James had, of course, never really gotten that far. He'd come to regret the way so many things about the last few years had happened, and that had included what the death of Lady Silence's father and the many subsequent ways she herself had been wronged, as well as the deaths of the Netsilik family on King William Land; still, those regrets had been amongst countless others, and he'd never really considered the larger picture. He had been focused only on trying to help Francis get their men home, on trying to be sure Francis would live, and on trying to survive. Other than the practicality of the mistake of becoming trapped in the pack ice, he'd never really contemplated the idea that they didn't belong there, not in any greater sense.
They were explorers, scientists, learning about the world and filling in the blank spaces on their maps. They'd been overconfident and made mistakes, and they had paid dearly for doing so, but that was a natural consequence of failure during a dangerous endeavor. There hadn't truly been anything wrong with the actual premise of what they had been doing, with their intentions, with the search itself.
Had there?
Perhaps, eventually, that will be something he wonders. However for the night he's entirely oblivious to not just to those grander questions, but the usual regrets and fears that tend to haunt his sleep; although typically a somewhat restless sleeper, he's so drained both physically and mentally that he hardly stirs. It's a contrast to his last days, as his condition had declined further and further, when sleep had come unpredictably and had never brought real rest, just moments of unconsciousness and wispy dreams that blurred into hallucinations. But what little improvement finding himself in this place had done for his health, and the feeling of warmth and the knowledge of doubtlessly temporary but still real and precious safety, allow him the first real sleep he's managed in what feels like ages.
So he doesn't stir until there's enough light coming in through the frosted windows that it's impossible to ignore any longer, and then, slowly, returns to very disoriented awareness. Some part of him expects the terrible off-white of the canvas tents and part of him expects to see nothing at all, but instead there are patches of color on the blankets and wood paneled walls and--
He bolts upright in bed, everything mentally snapping into place at once.
no subject
They were explorers, scientists, learning about the world and filling in the blank spaces on their maps. They'd been overconfident and made mistakes, and they had paid dearly for doing so, but that was a natural consequence of failure during a dangerous endeavor. There hadn't truly been anything wrong with the actual premise of what they had been doing, with their intentions, with the search itself.
Had there?
Perhaps, eventually, that will be something he wonders. However for the night he's entirely oblivious to not just to those grander questions, but the usual regrets and fears that tend to haunt his sleep; although typically a somewhat restless sleeper, he's so drained both physically and mentally that he hardly stirs. It's a contrast to his last days, as his condition had declined further and further, when sleep had come unpredictably and had never brought real rest, just moments of unconsciousness and wispy dreams that blurred into hallucinations. But what little improvement finding himself in this place had done for his health, and the feeling of warmth and the knowledge of doubtlessly temporary but still real and precious safety, allow him the first real sleep he's managed in what feels like ages.
So he doesn't stir until there's enough light coming in through the frosted windows that it's impossible to ignore any longer, and then, slowly, returns to very disoriented awareness. Some part of him expects the terrible off-white of the canvas tents and part of him expects to see nothing at all, but instead there are patches of color on the blankets and wood paneled walls and--
He bolts upright in bed, everything mentally snapping into place at once.
"Francis?"
Is this all truly real?