major richard sharpe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenjacketed) wrote2013-03-03 08:30 am
greenjacketed) wrote2013-03-03 08:30 am
SHARPE'S MEAL ⚔ WRITTEN | ACTION
[ after the public relations disaster of his last broadcast, sharpe has since kept his journal under a sort of imprisonment: tied shut with leather straps and stuffed in a cloth sack, that sack being knotted as well. but today he gingerly picks it from its incarceration and flicks through its pages until he settles upon one he likes. and then sharpe picks up his pencil.
he writes three messages. as ever, his handwriting is scrawlish, ill-practised, and riddled with errors. none are filtered, although only the first is intended for community consumption:]
LUCETI -- I need to speak with someone who can cook ades--deecdecent meal. [ ugh this is borderline humiliating someone shoot him and put him out of his misery. ] Frogs need not apply, beecuz I don't want the lot to taste like cheese and garlik.
KATNISS -- I'm coming by before 12. We have our wager to settle.
MISS FAITH LONG -- might a man call on you this afternoon?
-- R. SHARPE
[ OTHERWISE the man can be found staring disconsolately at grocery items. some of these things have never before been seen by eyes such as his. in fact, some of these things look barely edible. sharpe's been in luceti for a year, but he just about never goes to the grocery shop -- not when he has katniss looking after him with her stew. not when he can still shoot his own game. but today brings his boots squarely inside this devil's shop. as he browses, he mutters: ] Bloody hell...
[ LATER, sharpe has taken up a sentry position at the bar in good spirits. he's drinking watered down brandy because he can't afford to get drunk tonight. he's on the lookout for a certain fire-haired giant of a man. ganondorf. for it occurs to sharpe that he doesn't know where he lives, only that he's often seen at the bar. so he waits. ]
he writes three messages. as ever, his handwriting is scrawlish, ill-practised, and riddled with errors. none are filtered, although only the first is intended for community consumption:]
LUCETI -- I need to speak with someone who can cook a
KATNISS -- I'm coming by before 12. We have our wager to settle.
MISS FAITH LONG -- might a man call on you this afternoon?
-- R. SHARPE
[ OTHERWISE the man can be found staring disconsolately at grocery items. some of these things have never before been seen by eyes such as his. in fact, some of these things look barely edible. sharpe's been in luceti for a year, but he just about never goes to the grocery shop -- not when he has katniss looking after him with her stew. not when he can still shoot his own game. but today brings his boots squarely inside this devil's shop. as he browses, he mutters: ] Bloody hell...
[ LATER, sharpe has taken up a sentry position at the bar in good spirits. he's drinking watered down brandy because he can't afford to get drunk tonight. he's on the lookout for a certain fire-haired giant of a man. ganondorf. for it occurs to sharpe that he doesn't know where he lives, only that he's often seen at the bar. so he waits. ]
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[She shakes her head. Cuts herself off.]
Hardly appropriate conversation to have before cooking dinner.
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[ he hadn't quite been talking about the battle wounds, but he lacks the language -- or perhaps the inclination -- to explain instead the horrors of being alive in the wake of a breached siege. the bluish guts strung about the rocks. hundreds of corpses in ditches. and some men cowering under little fortresses of bodies, praying the defender's guns wouldn't find them.
and then there was the hell unleashed on the city itself once the attackers broke in, keen to slake their fury and exact revenge upon a force that had cut down so many of their brothers in arms. and once that hell reached beyond the soldiers and touched the civilians...
sharpe had seen things in badajoz that he could not put to words. babies slaughtered before their mothers' eyes; naked women kept captive in pew-rows in a grand cathedral; stumbling, swearing, drunken men who were off to commit crimes they should be hanged for. he does not doubt that, and he would have hanged them himself in badajoz had he not been busy finding teresa. ]
After you -- [ he signals that she should enter the apartment building before him. ]
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[She ducked inside ahead of him, walking down the hall to his apartment and waiting by the door like a good little lady. Once and awhile, obedience wasn't beyond her.]
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Grab a chair, if you like. Give your feet a rest.
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...it's quite cozy. Your flat.
[Spartan, yes, but. Comfortable enough.]
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[ he plucks at his sword belt, freeing his waist of the weight and letting it lean casually next to his rifle. ]
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[To where, she wonders. Doesn't ask just yet, but she wonders all the same. Who would Sharpe find to be palatable company or care enough to share quarters with in the village?]
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[ as a previously poor man -- or at least one who pointedly ignored the ten thousand pounds he only very recently banked -- the loss of an economy is perhaps what has hit him hardest. for the rich, the world is as good as moneyless for all the difficulty prices don't present. but for the poor, a monneyless town is downright eerie. ]
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