Snippet #2677402

Jacqueline ceased her assistance with the crew after Nate had assessed her. Her hands ached from the ropes, and she could feel a soreness spreading from her shoulders up her neck and down her back. She’d need to get that stretched out before she slept (if she slept that night.) Sighing, she smoothed down some stray grayish blonde hairs as she stood on deck. She moved over to the railing and took glances at the officers and sailors still on deck. How long had it been? Eleven or so years? It- no, that had to be about right. Angelique was grown, after all, and hadn't she been so small on the Petit Bleu that she wouldn't speak? No, she was old enough to speak then, she just wouldn't, not even to her father-

The Endeavor exploded in a flash and a thunderous clap. Jacqueline whipped around to face the remnants’ final blaze of glory. The ship was bigger, but with the ringing in her ears Jacqueline swore she saw teal blue French script and a small but lovely figurehead in the explosion, and something else that she hoped she could write off as sleep deprivation.

She saw a face that had plagued her nightmares for a decade.

Jacqueline blinked hard, then shoved away from the railing as though the metal had burned her. She breathed in the scent of burning wood and imagined her kitchen. In, out, in… that always helped. Yet, she couldn't shake off the darkening feeling in her gut: that face had looked awfully familiar, as though she had seen it recently.

“Lots of Englishmen look the same,” she muttered, scowling at the sky. Still dark. Still cloudy. Still depressingly the same English sky she'd been under for years. Jacqueline missed La Rochelle, though a part of her longed for the place she grew up in. Hell, she missed France in general. Angelique had never known her father's and aunt's homeland; perhaps, once this was over, she would take her niece to her homeland.

Wait.

Where was Angelique?
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Angelique had lost Karena not long in, and had subsequently gotten lost afterwards. She knew the outsides of ships well, and she could find her way through any building (she liked to think) but this ship was plaguing her more than the outbreak of scurvy had a few years ago during a festival. Its innards made no sense to her. She finally gave up trying to find anything of note when she felt the boom of the Endeavor. Angelique popped her head above deck and found herself near the larboard gangway. She could easily see her aunt glance about the approaching Illustrious, as well as Nathaniel and Karena.

‘Oops,’ she thought. Yet, her aunt seemed not to be bothered by her absence; maybe her aunt actually thought she could handle herself? For once?

Nah, she probably just forget where she was.

Angelique lept out onto the the deck and bounded gracefully to her aunt, only losing a bit of momentum trying to jump up on to the deck by the mainmast.

“Auntie, your hands look awful!” the girl exclaimed, grabbing Jacqueline’s hands and inspecting them. “What on earth were you doing?”

“Mon ange, don't startle me so!” Jacqueline exclaimed, shuddering at the shock. “I was doing what needed done, nothing more.”

“Your hands look like you lost a fight with five cats and a round of rope,” Angelique remarked, feeling all around her aunt's hands and frowning. “I've got some ointment to put on your rope burns that should clear them up by tomorrow but my bandages are running low.”

“I’ll live,” Jacqueline looked over at the Illustrious, particularly at the grinning face of the lieutenant. Not as familiar as the Captain’s, but she'd definitely seen that nose and those eyes before. So many familiar unfamiliar faces today!

“Not if it gets infected you won't,” Angelique fussed, reaching into her bag to get a stopped bottle of a greenish paste. “You always say that our hands are our most important part of our bodies.”

“Aside from the head,” Jacqueline replied, squinting to see the other members of the Illustrious’s returning crew. She looked at Carrington, still sopping wet, and felt a chill come over her. She didn't trust that man as far as she could throw him.

“Depends on which head,” Angelique giggled, pulling out her last few bandages and following her aunt's gaze.

Jacqueline fixed her with a stern look as Angelique’s giggles turned into full laughter. The older Thuron rolled her eyes and prayed that her niece would be able to laugh still after a few weeks at sea.