politestpirate: (Tools)
[personal profile] politestpirate
The sky is cool, grey, and occasionally misting, but that just means when you are working hard you can keep warm enough.

And there is certainly plenty of work to be done. The deck of the Black Pearl has been cleared off, with debris and pieces that are large enough to reuse stacked carefully. All over is the gleam of cut and exposed wood, the splintered edges cut and smoothed in preparation for patching sections. One mast has been cleared of charred and torn sails and rigging, the canvas and rope set in one area to work on before it can be sent back up.

One of the current priorities, however, is fixing the stern section of the ship, the back wall of the captain's cabin, that took some of the worse damage from the kraken-

Scottish autumn nights can start to get chilly, afterall.

Party thread style, slowtimes more than welcome.

Date: 2006-09-19 02:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
"One of the things we'll be working on, more than likely-" One hand to the spar, and he carefully pulls himself up.

"Though, how did you get up-"

Ah. That answers that question, does it now.

Date: 2006-09-19 02:56 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (flash bastard)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
"Er," he says, and grins a bit.

Then, spreading his wings a little for balance, he shimmies his weight down onto the footrope, and reaches over to offer Wellard his hand.

"Crowley," he says, by way of introduction.

Date: 2006-09-19 03:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
"Wellard. Henry Wellard." He blinks, carefully taking Crowley's hand.

"Ah- quite nice to meet you, Mr Crowley."

A bit of help, and he is soon balanced carefully on the spar next to the mast.

"What was it you said you needed some help with?"

Date: 2006-09-19 03:20 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (wing)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
Crowley nods downwards.

"Look," he says simply.

There's a crack twisting along the yard, starting aft at the port sling and ending fore at the starboard. Nothing irreparable, nothing that can't be easily patched and braced by a carpenter with the know-how, but not exactly negligible, either.

"I mean - it's not going to break right this second or anything. But if I'm detaching the sail on my own, I have to work from one side to the other, and - well, I don't want to end up with all the weight of the sail hanging off one end for any length of time, you know?"

Date: 2006-09-19 03:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
Wellard eyes the crack with a frown, noting its spread.

"... That's going to be quite a lot of fun to fix, up here." He mutters, and takes a deep breath. Wellard eyes the sails, and nods slowly.

"Wouldn't want uneven weight on it. The spar should hold for now, but not with the sail pulling on your end."

He looks up at Crowley, and smiles a bit wryly. "I think it will take me a few moments longer to get out to the end than it will you- so give me a bit of extra time, sir?"

Date: 2006-09-19 03:44 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (set - devious)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
"I can give you a lift, if you want," he says, with a shrug, and a grin that most definitely isn't mischievous in the least.

Date: 2006-09-19 03:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
"- I'd still have to make my own way back. So, might as well check the spar as I go out, for the return trip."

Dratted logic- because flying is awesome, as Wellard's found out. A wry smile and shrug to Crowley, and he starts making his way along the foot ropes to the end of the spar.

Date: 2006-09-19 04:10 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (wing)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
Crowley is forced to admit the logic of the plan, and nods before - as though it were the most normal thing in the world - releasing his hold on the mast and toppling gently backwards into space.

It's only a second before he's clear of the immediate rigging, and then Crowley's wings snap open with a sound like sailcloth in the wind, carrying him in a broad swoop out to the end of the yardarm.

Date: 2006-09-19 04:21 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
("Last one off the yardarm-")

Hands frozen on the rigging, Wellard watches him drop-

He barely remembers

wings

the moment before they snap open.

Strange, that wings would be logical at this moment. They are not in memories, though.

Date: 2006-09-19 04:34 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (VERY pensive)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
The landing on the footrope is a little tricky, but Crowley's been at this for a while now, and manages it without much difficulty.

The Pearl's sails aren't bent to the yards in as many places as he's seen on other ships - and as a passenger who never did too well below-decks, Crowley's observed the rigging of a fair few. For speed, he supposes; the better to stow them with fewer hands. Which serves their purposes well enough.

"Alright?" he calls over, as Wellard reaches the opposite end of the yard.

Date: 2006-09-19 04:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
His attention is on the rigging and spar, studiously.

"Yes! I'm ready to start, if you are!" Wellard is already working on the farthest lashings connecting the tattered black sail to the yardarm. They want the sail down in one piece- or as much as there is, so cutting the ropes is a last resort if the knot will not untie.

Date: 2006-09-19 05:06 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (VERY pensive)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
The knots thus far, in Crowley's experience, have proved to be co-operative. By and large. Admittedly, his perspective is skewed, since he rather tends to assume that the lashings will come undone easily enough - and the lashings haven't the guts to say or do otherwise.

This set doesn't break tradition, allowing themselves to be untied with a minimum of difficulty. Once done, Crowley glances over at Wellard, and with a nod, they both begin shuffling towards the next set of ties, pulling in the outer corners of the sail with them as they go. It's the work of a few moments to secure the corner to a point along the top edge, folding the sail inwards, and then work on the second set of lashings can begin.

Date: 2006-09-19 05:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
One set, and then the next, both of them carefully folding the sail inwards. Given the the wieght of the canvas, a job that rapidly increases in difficulty as Wellard and Crowley move in toward the mast.

He has only had to cut one set of lashings- things are looking quite good, so far.

Date: 2006-09-19 05:46 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (barbados 2)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
There's a nice rhythm to the work, once you find it - it's... absorbing. You can forget there's anything outside the satisfying tug of weighty canvas and rough line in your hands, the creak and bustle of the ship beneath you, and the breeze in your hair.

It's a little brighter than when they started - Crowley blinks, looks up, and grins when the clouds split overhead and allow a ray of autumn sun to shine through.

Balancing himself on his hands, Crowley hoists himself up a little onto the yard, to check on the crack - it seems to be holding up as well as anything. He signals as much to Wellard with a nod and a thumbs-up.

(They're close enough for talking, when the breeze is quiet, but Crowley doesn't; he hasn't realised that the reason why is because he's humming under his breath as he works.)

Date: 2006-09-20 02:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
Crowley would have gotten along well enough with Cotton-And that is who Wellard worked with often on board the Pearl before, so the relative silence up in the rigging-

(The sound of the ocean is missing, but the empty roar of the open air is still there)

is normal. He nods to Crowley, boosting himself up as well to check the crack on this side, as well as mentally take some rough measurements for when they have to fix it later. The spar is holding, so onto the next set of knots to undo, to get the spread of black canvas down.

Date: 2006-09-20 03:19 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (barbados)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
They meet in the middle soon enough, spending a few moments using loose ties and gaskets to secure the folded sail's head to the mast proper before undoing the final set of lashings binding the canvas to the yard.

"Right, er," Crowley says when the sail hangs almost free, eyeing the tangled mass of rigging still surrounding the foremast with a dubious expression. "Do we... want to try and extricate whatever line we need to lower this, or will I just try and carry it?"

Date: 2006-09-20 03:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
Wellard glances over at Crowley. "Its going to be rather heavy for any one person to carry- even normally, sir. So, we could lower it, or just let it drop. Its already somewhat bundled up- not like much more could happen to it, really."

He eyes the deck below the mast, speculatively. Nothing much down there it could damage, either.

Date: 2006-09-20 03:48 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (set - devious)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
"Yeah, I just don't want it to catch on the, um."

He waves a hand blankly at the next yard below them for a few moments.

"...Fore-...course yard?" he hazards. "Since a, I haven't checked that one out for, you know, integrity or anything, and b," he continues, patting the furled sail, "this whole thing might come unravelled. And - well."

For the first time, Crowley lowers his head to look at Wellard over the tops of his sunglasses - which, really, is a mean trick to play on the boy whilst they're up in the rigging, but... well, Crowley'd catch him if anything happened. Probably.

Then, one arm gripping the yard, he bends just enough to wrap the other around the top of the coiled sailcloth, and - with a very slight "Oof," - straightens his knees once more. The rope tying the sail to the mast goes slack.

He raises an eyebrow.

Date: 2006-09-20 04:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
.... Riiiiiiight. As if the wings were not enough. Wellard raises an eyebrow-

But you do not survive being up in the rigging during a hurricane by having weak hands. (Or when being tossed all over the world via magic, for that matter.)

.... Crowley picking up the sails nearly tops those, however. Wellard stares.

(His hands do have more survival sense, however, and hold on.)

"Alright, then."

Date: 2006-09-20 05:01 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (VERY pensive)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
"Okay."

Crowley lowers the sails until they're hanging from the mast, and then looks down again. The ratlines, the normal mode of ascent and descent, are rather ensnared with the buntlines used to lift the next sail beneath Crowley and Wellard. Clear enough for an unencumbered man to climb up and down, yes - but less easily navigable for anyone carrying what Crowley's going to be. Anyone who won't be properly able to see where they're stepping,

Hm.

"Okay," he says again.

"I'm going to go down - " he points, " - about halfway to the bottom of our sail, before where the ropes get all caught up. Then you detach it from here, and I'll get it," he illustrates with hand-gestures, "over my shoulder."

Date: 2006-09-20 06:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
He nods slowly, looking from Crowley down to the lower spar and ratlines.

"You'll be able to handle the wieght, when it drops, then?" Wellard eyes the sail, then moves over to be ready to until the final connection.

"Once we get this down..." He eyes the spar, then the tangled mess of the ratlines, and shakes his head wryly.

"Won't be any sortage of what next to do, for a while."

Date: 2006-09-21 02:30 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (barbados)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
"Well," he says wryly, gently patting the fore-mast, "she's not going anywhere."

If his hand lingers for a moment, fingers fitted to whorls in the dark wood, it's probably only because Crowley is charting his way down.

After a moment, he shifts his grip to the ratlines and steps off the footrope, beginning the short descent with one hand and one foot to either side of the folded sail. Halfway to the lower yard he stops, and reaches forward to pull himself and the ratlines closer in to the mast - whilst the other hand adjusts the heavy canvas where it lies against his shoulder.

As an afterthought, Crowley winches in his wings; his shirt flickers briefly as the dark feathers vanish into his back.

"Right," he calls up. "Er, ready whenever."

Date: 2006-09-21 04:19 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
... Jack has a lot of interesting friends. That is the best way to put it, really.

Wellard nods to Crowley, hands already working on loosening the last connection. The knots loosen, with the rope connecting to the sail already starting to pull away with the weight of the canvas below. He moves free, watching the ropes.

"On its way- be careful, sir!"

Date: 2006-09-24 03:24 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (barbados)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
The "Oof" is substantially louder this time, as the sail drops and its full weight is transferred, joltingly, to Crowley's shoulder. The ratlines sway alarmingly, nearly knocking Crowley into the mast, and he reaches out again to steady himself whilst imagining quite fervently that the immense roll of sturdy cloth weighs very little at all.

A few seconds later:

"Got it."

Then there's a second thick rustle, much like the sound of the sail as it fell, and Crowley's wings re-appear, one to each side of the canvas along his back.

Date: 2006-09-24 03:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
Wellard winces slightly when the sails drop on Crowley-

He is really hoping as well that there is no immediate crash-splat, so when Crowley stabilizes, and the wings come out, there is an audible sigh of relief from the spar up above.

"... Good."

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Henry Wellard

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