Post by Katara on Jun 5, 2007 13:18:55 GMT -5
Katara leant into the Hospital Room, and was gratified to find it empty. Well... it was called a room, but it was nothing like the rooms they had at home. Her father had owned a large enough country house, and the rooms were each surrounded by thick stone wall, with old-fashioned wooden furniture and a tapestry over every fireplace. They were all clumsily cluttered, yet with a friendly, almost comforting aura. She liked the rooms back home.
This was a wooden cabin, with a damp feel, a couple of cupboards, a hard, uncomfortable bed and... a basket of lemons.
And, if she wasn't mistaken, a taste of rum was in the air.
Muttering darkly to herself, she crept across the room and bent down in front of the cupboards, opening them carefully. There. Just as she'd expected. Cluttered and clumsily hidden away.
Katara reached in, pulling out the small box of first aid supplies and emptied the contents. Quickly and deftly (as well-practiced as she was) she began to fit the items togethers, putting together the same pattern she always made. Bottom to top, neat, ordered and perfect.
Had to be perfect. Had to be perfect.
Closing it carefully, she reached further into the little cupboard and found a supply of bandages, all twisted about each other. Giving a little sigh, she crossed her legs and spent the next half an hour or so unravelling them and rolling them back up again- neatly- and throwing away any that were dirty.
Next, she turned her attention to the little sink in the corner. Taking a cloth from the side of the room, she used what little soap she could and gave it a good scrub. Bending over the little plug, she watched the water running down it... trickle by trickle. Water made such a pretty sound. Calm... relaxing...
Had to be perfect. Had to be perfect.
Turning off the taps, she began to pull the sheets off the bed. They needed washed. They always did. Katara bundled them up carefully, and ran down the hall to her cabin, dumping them on her own bed. She'd sort them out in a second. Turning around her little room, she picked up the wicker basket full of sweet-smelling and freshly laundered sheets she'd sorted out that morning.
Quickly, as always, she moved down the hall, flitting past rooms as quietly as she possibly could. She always fancied her little odd jobs as being her own private hobby, and hated to be interrupted whilst she was doing them.
And she didn't want to be a wife! Her mother always had told her she was a catch...
Pretty... not too smart, but stupid enough to embarrass her husband... an excellent cook... a mothering nature... obedient... strong... sweet... a natural cleaner...
She wondered what her mother would say now.
Coming into the bare bed, she whipped out the first sheet and lovingly spread it across the mattress. She loved the touch of the soft, smooth linen... with its sweet smell and pure whiteness. It was like... snow... It reminded her of the cold temperatures of her home. And the sweet smell reminded her of the flowers that bloomed in the summer- those with pure, fresh scents, carried to you by the wind; the smells that made Toph stop, just for a second, and smile.
"It's summer, again, Katara."
"Katara?"
Katara froze, raising her head sheepishly to see Dr Philips leaning against the door frame, a curious and somewhat amused smile playing about his lips.
Dr Philips was young... a few years older than Katara, but still young. He was 19, with quite a solid look for his age, and a playful smile... His hair was dark, and thick and he had a light stubble growing across his chin. It wasn't a beard- in fact, by many girl's standards, it was incredibly sexy. He was sexy! Katara didn't like him in that way; to her, he was a quiet, well-mannered lad, but that didn't mean she hadn't checked him out a few times!
Gosh! If her mother knew!
But behind the smile, and those sparkling eyes, Katara always got the feeling there was someone much older behind them... someone already weary of the world.
"Phil," she said weakly, straightening up, the sheets slipping from her hands.
Katara called him Phil, because that was how he'd introduced himself to her. She supposed she was on better terms with him than many others. A lot just knew him as his formal title, 'Dr Philips'.
"You're mad in the head, lass," he winked, shaking his head at her. "Why are you in here?"
"Tidying," smiled Katara weakly. "I always tidy."
"Yawn!" he grinned. "It gets messy again, so why bother?"
"You're a doctor, Phil," Katara said primly, far more so than she'd have liked. "You should be able to keep yourself organised."
"I'm also a pirate, Katara," he smiled. "And pirates aren't exactly renowned for being anything but dirty, drinking slobs!"
"The rum," she muttered darkly, but there was a spark in her eye.
"Ay!" he cried, punching the air and jumping into the room to face her. "The rum!"
"Good thing I didn't find your supply," she grinned wickedly.
He stopped waving his arms about abruptly, adopting a shocked expression. "Me? A supply? Of rum? Never!"
"Only because I've been keeping tabs," she laughed at him. "Nah... you're fine, Phil. I know you don't mess around like some of them other lads."
"Ay," he agreed. "I don't always wander around with that... ahem, 'healthy' grog blossom."
"Or try and hornswaggle the captain out of his supply," she reminded him. "Nah... you're... honourable."
He raised an eyebrow. "Say that again."
She blinked, then laughed uneasily. "You're honourable."
His eyes suddenly went very cold... almost... hard. It sent a chill down her spine, and for the few brief seconds she found herself staring into them, a new fear had settled over her.
The fear of the unknown.
Everyone had a story...
Everyone had a story...
And yet on board, they had to create one. Another past... another history... another life. And it had to be perfect. Otherwise, no-one would believe them.
Then Phil laughed, and the familiar friendly glow came rushing back to his warm face. "Honourable! Oh, Katara, you're a sweet lass."
She found herself curtseying. "I'll leave you now, Phil."
"Very sweet," he observed. "And polite."
Katara smiled. "Only because I don't speak my mind very often. I keep my tongue in check."
"Sometimes."
"Sometimes, aye," she agreed. "I'll be back later though. Make your bed! And don't you hang the jib, young lad, you'd best do as you're told!"
"Oh, Lord," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "It's like my mother's back bugging me. She's just taken on a younger, prettier form."
"Be afraid, Phil," she grinned, backing out of the room. "Be very afraid..."
Then, as soon as she could, she slammed the Hospital Room door shut and fled down the corridor, her heart pounding. She was so embarrassed. Katara was feeling so foolish. What would Phil think of her? That she was mad? More than likely...
And yet she still felt the need to do something. Maybe she should go clean her own cabin. After all, it had to be perfect.
Had to be perfect.
This was a wooden cabin, with a damp feel, a couple of cupboards, a hard, uncomfortable bed and... a basket of lemons.
And, if she wasn't mistaken, a taste of rum was in the air.
Muttering darkly to herself, she crept across the room and bent down in front of the cupboards, opening them carefully. There. Just as she'd expected. Cluttered and clumsily hidden away.
Katara reached in, pulling out the small box of first aid supplies and emptied the contents. Quickly and deftly (as well-practiced as she was) she began to fit the items togethers, putting together the same pattern she always made. Bottom to top, neat, ordered and perfect.
Had to be perfect. Had to be perfect.
Closing it carefully, she reached further into the little cupboard and found a supply of bandages, all twisted about each other. Giving a little sigh, she crossed her legs and spent the next half an hour or so unravelling them and rolling them back up again- neatly- and throwing away any that were dirty.
Next, she turned her attention to the little sink in the corner. Taking a cloth from the side of the room, she used what little soap she could and gave it a good scrub. Bending over the little plug, she watched the water running down it... trickle by trickle. Water made such a pretty sound. Calm... relaxing...
Had to be perfect. Had to be perfect.
Turning off the taps, she began to pull the sheets off the bed. They needed washed. They always did. Katara bundled them up carefully, and ran down the hall to her cabin, dumping them on her own bed. She'd sort them out in a second. Turning around her little room, she picked up the wicker basket full of sweet-smelling and freshly laundered sheets she'd sorted out that morning.
Quickly, as always, she moved down the hall, flitting past rooms as quietly as she possibly could. She always fancied her little odd jobs as being her own private hobby, and hated to be interrupted whilst she was doing them.
And she didn't want to be a wife! Her mother always had told her she was a catch...
Pretty... not too smart, but stupid enough to embarrass her husband... an excellent cook... a mothering nature... obedient... strong... sweet... a natural cleaner...
She wondered what her mother would say now.
Coming into the bare bed, she whipped out the first sheet and lovingly spread it across the mattress. She loved the touch of the soft, smooth linen... with its sweet smell and pure whiteness. It was like... snow... It reminded her of the cold temperatures of her home. And the sweet smell reminded her of the flowers that bloomed in the summer- those with pure, fresh scents, carried to you by the wind; the smells that made Toph stop, just for a second, and smile.
"It's summer, again, Katara."
"Katara?"
Katara froze, raising her head sheepishly to see Dr Philips leaning against the door frame, a curious and somewhat amused smile playing about his lips.
Dr Philips was young... a few years older than Katara, but still young. He was 19, with quite a solid look for his age, and a playful smile... His hair was dark, and thick and he had a light stubble growing across his chin. It wasn't a beard- in fact, by many girl's standards, it was incredibly sexy. He was sexy! Katara didn't like him in that way; to her, he was a quiet, well-mannered lad, but that didn't mean she hadn't checked him out a few times!
Gosh! If her mother knew!
But behind the smile, and those sparkling eyes, Katara always got the feeling there was someone much older behind them... someone already weary of the world.
"Phil," she said weakly, straightening up, the sheets slipping from her hands.
Katara called him Phil, because that was how he'd introduced himself to her. She supposed she was on better terms with him than many others. A lot just knew him as his formal title, 'Dr Philips'.
"You're mad in the head, lass," he winked, shaking his head at her. "Why are you in here?"
"Tidying," smiled Katara weakly. "I always tidy."
"Yawn!" he grinned. "It gets messy again, so why bother?"
"You're a doctor, Phil," Katara said primly, far more so than she'd have liked. "You should be able to keep yourself organised."
"I'm also a pirate, Katara," he smiled. "And pirates aren't exactly renowned for being anything but dirty, drinking slobs!"
"The rum," she muttered darkly, but there was a spark in her eye.
"Ay!" he cried, punching the air and jumping into the room to face her. "The rum!"
"Good thing I didn't find your supply," she grinned wickedly.
He stopped waving his arms about abruptly, adopting a shocked expression. "Me? A supply? Of rum? Never!"
"Only because I've been keeping tabs," she laughed at him. "Nah... you're fine, Phil. I know you don't mess around like some of them other lads."
"Ay," he agreed. "I don't always wander around with that... ahem, 'healthy' grog blossom."
"Or try and hornswaggle the captain out of his supply," she reminded him. "Nah... you're... honourable."
He raised an eyebrow. "Say that again."
She blinked, then laughed uneasily. "You're honourable."
His eyes suddenly went very cold... almost... hard. It sent a chill down her spine, and for the few brief seconds she found herself staring into them, a new fear had settled over her.
The fear of the unknown.
Everyone had a story...
Everyone had a story...
And yet on board, they had to create one. Another past... another history... another life. And it had to be perfect. Otherwise, no-one would believe them.
Then Phil laughed, and the familiar friendly glow came rushing back to his warm face. "Honourable! Oh, Katara, you're a sweet lass."
She found herself curtseying. "I'll leave you now, Phil."
"Very sweet," he observed. "And polite."
Katara smiled. "Only because I don't speak my mind very often. I keep my tongue in check."
"Sometimes."
"Sometimes, aye," she agreed. "I'll be back later though. Make your bed! And don't you hang the jib, young lad, you'd best do as you're told!"
"Oh, Lord," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "It's like my mother's back bugging me. She's just taken on a younger, prettier form."
"Be afraid, Phil," she grinned, backing out of the room. "Be very afraid..."
Then, as soon as she could, she slammed the Hospital Room door shut and fled down the corridor, her heart pounding. She was so embarrassed. Katara was feeling so foolish. What would Phil think of her? That she was mad? More than likely...
And yet she still felt the need to do something. Maybe she should go clean her own cabin. After all, it had to be perfect.
Had to be perfect.
