driftfleet | Voice/Action. Edwin, please, Mr. Jarvis is my father.

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Voice/Action. Edwin, please, Mr. Jarvis is my father.

Who: Edwin Jarvis (as a small fella) and you!
Broadcast: Voice
Action: SS Tourist, SS Starstruck, Iskaulit
When: From about March 22nd, a week onward.

... Sorry Tourist, make your own food for the week.

SS TOURIST

[Jarvis' day is the same as it always is. He gets up, makes breakfast, does a bit of laundry and tidies the ship wherever he sees fit — then work at the bar, the gym visits, making a half-sea-food dinner, and so on. It's a normal week, yes? Or perhaps not. The next day, there is no breakfast. Then no tidying or laundry. Then no dinner. It seems, without having left the roster, Jarvis has all but vanished from the SS Tourist.

Or perhaps he hasn't quite vanished. For you see, hidden up under his bed as he's been for hours now is a small boy of about eight or nine, wearing a rather too large robe, his hands in anxious fists tucked up by his face. He hasn't come out yet, because his nerves are rather... fried. Yours would be too, if you were a small kid and you woke up suddenly in a steel trap of sorts! He is mortified and at a complete loss, and all he can assume is that he's been abducted. Perhaps a ransom! Oh, his mind dances through a million paranoid thoughts. His mum and dad must have bothered someone terribly. They must've closed a door in someone's face and they want revenge. This is a lair from a villainous hideout, it must be so.

His stomach gurgles but he holds steadfast, as he fidgets with the device in front of him. It had been on the desk beside his bed, and he was interested in what it could do — and some part of him knows, in theory, how it works. And that is very frightening, because he's never seen something like this before in his entire life!!

He slams down the device, frustrated tears blooming in his eyes.]

[Audio]

[A hushed voice:]

Oh, don't cry — don't cry now, it won't do any good...

[He sniffs hard, and seems to be steeling himself. For a moment.

Even so — ]

... I want to go home...

[Eventually, sooner or later, somehow, someway, he will be out from under that cursed bed of doom and gloom and sit a day late at the table in the kitchen. But he doesn't cook, or clean, or anything of the sort. He sits with his hands off the table (impolite to put them there), sitting straight in his chair, unsure if he should... be waiting for someone to come in and make food, or if he... needs to make his own...

He's not very good at making things, yet.

Eventually he does grab a plate of... a block of some kind of gel. He wrinkles his nose but eventually gives in, and though he thinks the taste is just terrible, he is determined to eat every bite; wasting food is unsightly. He's a good boy. He would never. So to enjoy it forcefully, he hums a little tune as he eats, swinging his feet just a little. Nobody is around to see his poor etiquette, so... it's okay to be a little less rigid at the table, right?]

SS STARSTRUCK / ISKAULIT

[AT SOME POINT... Peggy will sniff him out. Which is probably way sooner than later, but anyway. Edwin is terribly curious now, despite his anxiety surrounding this... impossible place. He had investigated the Starstruck's cargo bay with some interest. Some strange and frightening man with a habit of grunting answers gave him some delicious dessert, and he wandered freely with the promise of being the most well-behaved kid in all of space.

... Well, he did fiddle with the teleporter a bit...

And ended up aboard the Iskaulit rather abruptly.

Which sparked great panic in the hall of the ship.]

How do I go back?! Oh, I've mucked it up! Stupid, Edwin — they'll be so cross with me!

[If I hit buttons enough, will that fix the problem? No?

Okay, time to roam the ship nervously then.]

CATCH-ALL WILDCARD

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ well, here's a pickle.

currently, peggy is blowing the dust off an empty shelf -- and standing in one of the starstruck's unassigned rooms. having tracked the boy down by one means or another (perhaps a friendly crew-member on the tourist tipped her off?), she now introduces him to the sad sparse little room that she intends to be his for the duration of this glitch.

her expression is pinched. a little pained. none of this comes easily to her. ]

-- I'm certain we can find something to brighten the place up. Afraid it's all a bit dreary at the moment.

[Edwin looks entirely unsure about this entire situation, but he has been careful to be proper and decent for the whole of it. He's still dressed in a robe that is entirely too long on him, fidgeting with the sleeve before trying to look as obedient and confident as possible (though he still looks nervous so he kind of failed there, but you can't fault him for trying).]

It's — quite alright! I think it's a very nice room.

[It's not at all. But anyway.]

... I'm, I'm sure I can clean it up a little. [HOW HE DOESN'T KNOW BUT HE DOESN'T WANT TO SOUND DRAB AND ILL-PREPARED.] I'm very clean, I promise.

Oh, I believe you are. No doubt.

[ but her frown persists. she can't very well put the child to work dusting his own quarters -- and yet, a bit of hard work never hurt anyone. more importantly, however, is the sad situation of his wardrobe.

at least that has an easier fix. ] We've got a lad on board who's just a little bit bigger than you, I think. I suspect he'll have something going spare.

[He reads her frown all wrong, of course.

It's like when Aunt Sophie has to watch after any kids — a frown in place, a sort of displeasure at having to help out with children other than her own. It's quite different from his grandmum's excitement at the sight of him, very much it's own breed. As it is, he's pretty sure Peggy doesn't really appreciate his sudden company in her... home... area...

He looks at the floor, flustered.]

That would be very nice... Thank you, Aunt Peggy.

[He tries for a little smile, uncertain and shy.

Please like me.]

I feel like I've been getting ready for bed all day in this.

I'll... feel terribly unmotivated to be awake f'I stay in it much longer.

Well. [ how utterly bizarre it is to be called 'aunt peggy' by anyone. she's quite certain she'll never be anyone's true aunt. anthony stark not withstanding. ] You've had quite a large day -- finding yourself in space, and such. Sleep ought to come easily tonight regardless of your clothing.

... I don't know if I would be able to sleep for a while.

It's all very — strange. But...! I will be alright!

[Lucky her, she has just enough of a look between her and Jarvis that Edwin could entirely buy that she's related to his mum. He hadn't acted very surprised to find she had not seen their family in a long time; they're not always very easy to get along with. Mummy not so bad, but Dad always bickered with his sister and the rest of their surly family.

He purses his lips, shrinking a little bit again.

Okay, Edwin. Think of something that will endear you!

Or - Or maybe something nice to talk about!]

Do you like... space? It's quite — sparkly, I bet...!

[ peggy purses her lips before taking a seat on the bed's edge. it sags slightly when she adds her weight, and she keeps a polite distance between them. ]

I rather do, actually. [ like space. and the funny thing is, of course, that she doesn't tell it like a lie. in order to bolster the boy's spirits, she finds herself telling truths the likes of which she doesn't come near close to admitting with anyone in their right state. it's far easier to grouse about space and about their circumstances than to admit she sees the advantages of being here. ] It's quite different from home, isn't it?

It is.

[He folds his hands behind his back. Much like typical Jarvis, really.]

It's frightening! But, um. I... I'm not in any danger, and I'm with family.

And maybe... Maybe we can talk to mum and dad, and you can all make up.

[ oof. ]

That may very well happen, Edwin. [ saying his christian name doesn't come as easily to her as she might like, and yet she possesses just enough training to make it sound natural all the same. ] But for now, I think it's best you and I focus on the days ahead. Yes? One foot in front of the other.

Edited 2017-03-23 00:28 (UTC)

Oh, yes... One foot in front of the other. That's a lovely saying.

[He smiles, closed mouth, thin.]

... Is America nicer than England?

I — always wanted to visit. It seems so far away from all the trouble.

[War, that is. It's 1916, and Britain is still in a rather daunting position with World War I.]

America has its charms. [ this, at least, merits a palpably honest smile. ] If you're interested in its shores, I'm certain you'll visit. A charming boy like you? You'd do well for youself. I'm certain of it.

[ she says something sweet, and hopes to avoid talking about the war before the last. ]

[Oh, a compliment! He seems to immediately perk up.]

Do you think so? I would like to! Though I'm a little afraid of boats...!

M-maybe I can visit by plane. I don't know if I'm afraid of heights yet, but I don't think I am... [MAYBE HE WILL BE BRAVE IN A PLANE.] Planes are very amazing, aren't they? Airships, too. To see everything from high...!

[Oh, you're getting him more chatty, look at you.]

...Would you like to know a secret? [ his enthusiasm helps her relax. it's a measurable mark of her success, at least, with this particular tack. ] If you think about it, us sitting here on the Starstruck might as well be the very same thing as flying in a plane.

[ peggy's nose crinkles. ] I should know. I've flown in one before.

[Trusted with a secret! Such a rarity! He sits down quickly, as if he were hardly close enough to give a secret to. But he's still being a gentleman, hands folded in his lap.]

Cross my heart, I won't tell anyone.

[And his eyes light up just a bit, as he looks around the little dusty room.]

You flew to America? Did you get close to the clouds?

[ ah! this, she thinks, she can manage. ]

We puffed our way through them like candy floss. But it can be a bit bumpy, at times. Our ships we fly here in the fleet provide much smoother journeys.

... It sounds like a grand story.

[Getting out there, running off and being somewhere different, where you're unattached and you don't have to worry about who you're playing the part for. Even at eight years old, he dreams of little things like this -- far too scared to actually do it, too afraid of being all alone and fending for himself. He's quite small for his age; a pile of skin and bones that needs puberty and time to hoist him up to his future 6'3" self. The confidence is clearly hard-fought, hard-earned.

He's a ways to go, before he learns how to let go and take the jump.

Edwin smiles a little more hopefully.]

Someday, can I go to America with you?

You absolutely may.

[ -- her answer is quick and heartfelt. and she gives it more for the adult jarvis who will needs must look back on this conversation and parse the offers made and lies told. this might be the perfect time for a caring adult to reach out and brush hair back from his temple but peggy stays where she sits. ]

And when you do, I promise we'll have all manner of adventures.

[Oh, he's so relieved. He doesn't want to leave yet, though, because he would upset his granny, and there's nothing worse than letting her down when she's already so nice to him. He is far more at ease now than he was standing in the doorway, robed and looking around with a concerned brow furrowed.]

Adventures sounds... fun. I always wanted to go on adventures.

[He folds his legs, hands still properly folded in his lap.]

I know I'm quite small, but I can be helpful! I'm... I'm good at...! Um...

[He seems to lose confidence.]

I can... play a little piano.

[... He's not very good at much yet.

His ears burn, feeling a little inadequate right now for adventuring.]

Well, then. Edwin. [ ahem. ] You never know when a few bars of ragtime will go amiss.

[ -- good lord, what was popular at the time of mister jarvis's youth? it doesn't matter, really, because it'll be the classical compositions that mean more. ah, well. she leans on her authority as an adult to see her through this moment. ]

[... Ragtime? He worries about questioning what that means; he doesn't want to sound stupid.

He purses his lips, not quite so confident as his older self -- well, Jarvis knew where his skills laid, so it helped keep his confidence boosted, anyway. This kid is still isn't sure what he's good at. Or at least, he has things he wants to do that he isn't allowed to do.]

I must be honest, Aunt Peggy... I'm still... not very good yet. Father gets a little cross with me during practice, but I can't seem to get the hang of it. I do try though, I promise. I try my very best.

I'd expect no less. [ but that sounds a little harsh, doesn't it? the adult mister jarvis would be able to read the delicate balance between her words -- find the humour. and, she'd hope, the admiration for his dogged determination. but a child is something else: a different creature entirely.

peggy relents a little. ] Doubtless, you're a far better pianist than me. I only know that one song where you roll your knuckles over the black keys. I think all children must know it by instinct.

[He smiles, a bit forced.]

I guess so.

[He opens his mouth, closes it. He only just met her, and even though she's family, sometimes family is hardly a reason to open up. Especially when that family may be disapproving of what you have to say. But...]

If I tell you a secret, would you... tell my parents?

[ -- an almost laughable question. but to him, she realizes. and so peggy leans in to touch a finger gently to the boy's chest, dotting him right above his heart. ]

Never, Edwin. I am very good at keeping secrets.

[He purses his lips, feeling more confident in telling her...

Even if it's downright heresy. Not that he particularly knows the word for it.]

Well... It's just... father is very smart, and very good at a lot of things. He's a maths— a mathematician, you know. He teaches people things, and it all looks a bit silly to me when I look at it, but I know it's very smart numbers on the board.

And he wants me to be very smart and good at things like him...

But I don't much like math... or the piano. Or fencing.

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