endless_scrolls (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
endless_scrolls) wrote2008-07-04 12:30 pm
endless_scrolls) wrote2008-07-04 12:30 pm
Entry tags:
Log: ES Childish Dreams
Title: Childish Dreams
Type: RP log
Fandom: AU!Naruto
Character(s): Tenten, Sabaku no Gaara
Pairing(s): Faint hints of GaaTen (hey, they're only children >___>;)
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer: I own only the part that I played in this.
Note: Log originally posted November 25, 2007 for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
eternalsea RP comm. In this, Tenten is 15 and Gaara is 13.
Dedicated to: Ninja Pirates. Everywhere~
It had been a few nights past since the merchant vessel had set sail from the Trinidad ports. In hopes of keeping their most precious of cargo safe from the clutches of those who would dare harm her, the Yondaime was a brutal man, but he keep his word to those of great important. Tenten was a promise he made, and he would keep it at all costs.
It was late, as the faint flicker of candle dimly lit the small corner below decks to where much of the men were already in bed. Not Gaara, for the nightmare of not being able to see his darkest enemy burst through the shadows unexpectedly left the boy with extreme cases of insomnia. So he remained sitting cuddled in a bed of hay, shielded by wooden crates with the only knowledge of anyone being there was the flicker of light radiating from behind the boxes.
He found himself, more often than not with his nose in ancient text of the old world, or language books he had stolen from the old man whom owned the book shop around the corner of his fathers tavern. He didn't know weather the old man just had no idea of the thefts or chose to ignore it giving the boy some breathing space. After all, it was rare to find a young man interested in learning on his own, and with a great thirst for knowledge he wasn't about to take that away from the red head the pleasures of the written word. This time it was a fantasy story by a writer known as Homer; of a sailor, Odysseus in suspenseful page turning poetic story of an odyssey adventure. Filled with beasts of legend and lands of dreams. Books were the only thing that kept the small boy feeling like a child, to be taken to such a world with only words was something he lived for...something Of an escape, it was his time of peace from a cruel world.
His eyes closed over a brief moment, taking in the image, piecing together what he had just read about the Sirens, beautiful woman found in the shallows of the sea, voices so gentle and hypnotize that would ensnare the mind and hearts of men. His faint outline took the form of a young girl a familiar one he had monitored through the past few days of her stay with them. Beautiful like in his stories, yet held a great hate for the power she had over even his father with her soft voice.
"Achilles was still in full pursuit of Hector, as a hound chasing a fawn which he has started from its covert on the mountains, and hunts through glade and thicket. The fawn may try to elude him by crouching under cover of a bush, but he will scent her out and follow her up until he gets her- even so there was no escape for Hector from the fleet son of Peleus." In an even steady beat, she paced the length of the ship from port to starboard, her dark eyes sparkling with the light of the moon as she read the passages out loud for any who wished to listen. There had been a fair amount of the ship's crew already gathered around, eager to listen to the tale of the Trojan war from long ago. The Iliad was one of many books she had brought along with her on this journey, reading them on the deck of the ship when there was nothing for her to do. It had caught the interest of several of the crew and it was only with great prodding (and a little annoyance) that she had agreed, remembering that not a great many even knew how to read. (It was with that thought that she was grateful to her father and mother for teaching her.) And it had become a routine ever since, done in the dead of night when the men would not be distracted from their work.
Licking the pad of her thumb, she turned the page and continued reading. "Whenever he made a set to get near the Dardanian gates and under the walls, that his people might help him by showering down weapons from above, Achilles would gain on him and head him back towards the plain, keeping himself always on the city side. As a man in a dream who fails to lay hands upon another whom he is pursuing- the one cannot escape nor the other overtake- even so neither could Achilles come up with Hector, nor Hector break away from Achilles; nevertheless he might even yet have escaped death had not the time come when Apollo, who thus far had sustained his strength and nerved his running, was now no longer to stay by him..."
Blinking once, he turned his attention to the syllables echoing through his ears of that same sweet voice now bellowing out familiar words. He listened in awe as the young woman recited much of what he knew from heart only having read it so many times. The first poem from Homer's works Iliad. His jaw dropped in amazement, leaning forward closing his book at the same time leaning in straining to hear the excited enthusiastic voice, he had never thought the readings could sound so good, how it lingered in his ears like liquid honey. She definitely had a talent, learning to read was not common in these parts she must have been very lucky.
He followed the sound of her voice up on deck, silently and through the shadows careful not to be detected, but it was difficult not to mimic her words for they were the most beautiful he had ever heard. He took a step forward holding his own closed book to his side as he listened and mouthed the words along with the rest. It was then his eyes closed over and his vocals had taken over his own words to replace hers.
"....by Him. Achilles made signs to the Achaean host, and shook his head to show that no man was to aim a dart at Hector, lest another might win the glory of having hit him and he might himself come in second. Then, at last, as they were nearing the fountains for the fourth time, the father of all balanced his golden scales and placed a doom in each of them, one for Achilles and the other for Hector. As he held the scales by the middle, the doom of Hector fell down deep into the house of Hades- and then Phoebus Apollo left him. Thereon Minerva went close up to the son of Peleus and said, "Noble Achilles, favoured of heaven, we two shall surely take back to the ships a triumph for the Achaeans by slaying Hector, for all his lust of battle. Do what Apollo may as he lies grovelling before his father, aegis-bearing Jove, Hector cannot escape us longer. Stay here and take breath, while I go up to him and persuade him to make a stand and fight you." With his final breath, slowly opening his to get a reaction that he had not expect, much of the crew wide eyed and speechless. His lips parted as if to say something more, but no words could be found while getting lost in stunned looks he was receiving.
Dark eyes darted up from the pages of her own book curiously and somewhat shocked, finding herself drawn in by the other's voice while it completed the lines that were printed right in front of her. And she was stunned to find the young Gaara standing before her, short red hair rustling in the sea breeze of the night. This boy was just full of surprises. She had known or at least had suspected him to be a well-read person, he had to have been to make his statement of knowing three different languages true. But to have memorized such an epic piece of literature like The Iliad was impressive indeed. She herself only knew parts of it by heart, the more exciting portions of the text.
Hair billowing in the wind, having taken it down for the night to further keep her neck warm of the chilled ocean breeze while she read, the young girl brushed a few strands out of her eyes and locked gazes with his jaded gems glowing in the dim light of the moon. A smirk fixed firmly in place, she closed the pages of the book in her hand and began reciting from memory, rusty but remembered well enough, especially with the blood pumping through her veins from the prospect of making it a shared performance than a simple reading. "Thus spoke Minerva. Achilles obeyed her gladly, and stood still, leaning on his bronze-pointed ashen spear, while Minerva left him and went after Hector in the form and with the voice of Deiphobus. She came close up to him and said, 'Dear brother, I see you are hard pressed by Achilles who is chasing you at full speed round the city of Priam, let us await his onset and stand on our defence.'"
"And Hector answered, "Deiphobus, you have always been dearest to me of all my brothers, children of Hecuba and Priam, but henceforth I shall rate you yet more highly, inasmuch as you have ventured outside the wall for my sake when all the others remain inside." He followed after her, his voice becoming all the more solid as he spoke. The longer he had stared off into the dark eyes of his challenger the more lost he became in lowering his defense. The words were relaxing, soothing to the mind of the suppressed.
He tilted his head to her, forgetting much of the many crew listening around them. They had known the boy was smart, a genius in his own rites but to keep such things to themselves, to ignore his talents was saving his life. He was only a mule, a worker on this merchant vessel and when ever the captain found it in his best interest to teach the boy things of the sea to aid in his own benefit. His proud look of knowledge had swept over his face, as he was very much impressed at her solid attempts at doing the very same thing. He had memorized the book, yes, but he had not much else to do with his time when he was free. When not in the clutches of a torment in the form of a man.
Her eyes narrowed though the smirk only widened across her face as she lifted an arm and gestured with artistic flare, playing the part of Minerva as she saw fit for the entertainment of the crew as well as an added challenge to the young boy in front of her. Could he let himself go enough to join in and be the child he was never allowed to be, or would he continue to hold back a true part of his soul, the part that his father had tried to kill the moment he had come into the world?
With clean and easy strides, she circled around him where he stood, whispering sweetly into his ear like any temptress imploring the seeds of her wants in another, weaving her words as if they were threads of gold. "Then Minerva said, 'Dear brother, my father and mother went down on their knees and implored me, as did all my comrades, to remain inside, so great a fear has fallen upon them all; but I was in an agony of grief when I beheld you; now, therefore, let us two make a stand and fight, and let there be no keeping our spears in reserve, that we may learn whether Achilles shall kill us and bear off our spoils to the ships, or whether he shall fall before you.'"
A real smile poised his features at her flailing arms, embracing the part of the sister Minerva, enjoying the cute, talented spectacle she was performing for the sake of entertainment. He eyed her circling him like a vulture waiting for it's pray to be just right to land. Though finding her smooth, weightless movements as graceful as the calming tide of the ocean.
"I will-no longer fly you, son of Peleus," the words spilled from his lips, although still very much in his own quiet tone of similar octaves, he could never get into this they way she was, although he had wished he would let himself go and become what was written. To take the part and make it his own as she did, he was envious of her talent for such things. But even so in continuing, his words became more lost in the invisible text he was reading from, as a slightly dirty finger fiddled with the others almost nervously, "As I have been doing hitherto. Three times have I fled round the mighty city of Priam, without daring to withstand you, but now, let me either slay or be slain, for I am in the mind to face you. Let us, then, give pledges to one another by our gods, who are the fittest witnesses and guardians of all covenants; let it be agreed between us that if Jove vouchsafes me the longer stay and I take your life, I am not to treat your dead body in any unseemly fashion, but when I have stripped you of your armour, I am to give up your body to the Achaeans. And do you likewise." .....
It was moments later he began to drift from his dream into the brutality of life that awaited, feeling a last brush of his thumb over his own rough skin. Thinking of what it would be like to touch her face in the light of the Caribbean moon, he never even would begin to imagine a woman's skin had felt, when the thought was ripped from his grasp violently. The book he held in his hand dropped to the wooden deck with a thud, and a gasp of air sucked back as his smaller body slammed flush into a taller stronger one. His thin arms reaching up to wrap his hands around his wrists at sad attempt to calm the fury.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING BOY!" He barked, pulling him closer to smell the rank breath of liquor. "Yyou were...comonon to her...fithly braaat of yyour age annnd hers..."
He said nothing, but shaking his head from side to side no, his wobbling knees could hardly stay balanced as he never seen the man so angry with that flaring fire in his eyes to kill.
"Capt'n Gaar..." One of the crew tried speaking up but was only cut off in a fit of verbal lashes, as they turned from the scene as they always had hearing the shuffling as the boy was dragged off below decks. The merchants heavy boots hitting each time with a slight stagger.
"S'now your smart?...I'll beat that thhought frrom your head boy, I'll maake sure you don't remember your damn nname...."
Soft steps tapped out the rhythm in which his words flowed so perfectly from his mouth while she continued to circle around him, pretending as if they were in the home of Hector and Achilles themselves, walking the paths they walked and breathing in the same air. It was almost believable, as if it were a well-practiced performance for the crew. A foolish thought, perhaps considering Gaara was not allowed much free time save for the nights when he seemed too occupied with his reading to indulge in sleep. She had seen the light of his candle burning, flickering in the crew's quarters at all hours of the night when she had found sleep out of her reach and had decided to pass the time with a little stargazing. That was how the nightly readings began, when she had been found by a young deckhand inquiring about a book she had brought up with her to read when the stars had stopped being of interest. Often she had entertained the thought of asking him what he was reading but soon thought against it. It became clear that he was avoiding her after their first day, for one reason or another that she was not too sure on.
Shame, really. It was not often that she came across someone as well read as Gaara, and when she did, they were too snobbish and rude for her to ever engage in a conversation with, exchange ideas, make suggestions on what else to read, something to pass the time on the ship until they reached the next port and give them a reprieve from the endless ocean of blue that constantly surrounded them. But Gaara was normally a solitary figure, and she would at least respect that. And she would also revel in this rare moment of confidence in him, knowing that there was a chance that it would never happen again...made apparent by the looming figure standing behind him.
Her face fell and turned to that resembling an offspring of horror as she watched the merchant captain manhandle his son, slurring his words like the drunk he was and dragging the young boy to the safeties of the shadows where his dark deeds would be hidden. She made an attempt to stop him, to do something to calm the man's rage (because it was her belief that this was all her fault, if not partially). But the crew had stopped her, had held her back from uttering a word. They merely shook their heads and looked on solemnly to the sounds floating up from below deck. There was nothing she could do.
Type: RP log
Fandom: AU!Naruto
Character(s): Tenten, Sabaku no Gaara
Pairing(s): Faint hints of GaaTen (hey, they're only children >___>;)
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer: I own only the part that I played in this.
Note: Log originally posted November 25, 2007 for the
eternalsea RP comm. In this, Tenten is 15 and Gaara is 13.Dedicated to: Ninja Pirates. Everywhere~
It had been a few nights past since the merchant vessel had set sail from the Trinidad ports. In hopes of keeping their most precious of cargo safe from the clutches of those who would dare harm her, the Yondaime was a brutal man, but he keep his word to those of great important. Tenten was a promise he made, and he would keep it at all costs.
It was late, as the faint flicker of candle dimly lit the small corner below decks to where much of the men were already in bed. Not Gaara, for the nightmare of not being able to see his darkest enemy burst through the shadows unexpectedly left the boy with extreme cases of insomnia. So he remained sitting cuddled in a bed of hay, shielded by wooden crates with the only knowledge of anyone being there was the flicker of light radiating from behind the boxes.
He found himself, more often than not with his nose in ancient text of the old world, or language books he had stolen from the old man whom owned the book shop around the corner of his fathers tavern. He didn't know weather the old man just had no idea of the thefts or chose to ignore it giving the boy some breathing space. After all, it was rare to find a young man interested in learning on his own, and with a great thirst for knowledge he wasn't about to take that away from the red head the pleasures of the written word. This time it was a fantasy story by a writer known as Homer; of a sailor, Odysseus in suspenseful page turning poetic story of an odyssey adventure. Filled with beasts of legend and lands of dreams. Books were the only thing that kept the small boy feeling like a child, to be taken to such a world with only words was something he lived for...something Of an escape, it was his time of peace from a cruel world.
His eyes closed over a brief moment, taking in the image, piecing together what he had just read about the Sirens, beautiful woman found in the shallows of the sea, voices so gentle and hypnotize that would ensnare the mind and hearts of men. His faint outline took the form of a young girl a familiar one he had monitored through the past few days of her stay with them. Beautiful like in his stories, yet held a great hate for the power she had over even his father with her soft voice.
"Achilles was still in full pursuit of Hector, as a hound chasing a fawn which he has started from its covert on the mountains, and hunts through glade and thicket. The fawn may try to elude him by crouching under cover of a bush, but he will scent her out and follow her up until he gets her- even so there was no escape for Hector from the fleet son of Peleus." In an even steady beat, she paced the length of the ship from port to starboard, her dark eyes sparkling with the light of the moon as she read the passages out loud for any who wished to listen. There had been a fair amount of the ship's crew already gathered around, eager to listen to the tale of the Trojan war from long ago. The Iliad was one of many books she had brought along with her on this journey, reading them on the deck of the ship when there was nothing for her to do. It had caught the interest of several of the crew and it was only with great prodding (and a little annoyance) that she had agreed, remembering that not a great many even knew how to read. (It was with that thought that she was grateful to her father and mother for teaching her.) And it had become a routine ever since, done in the dead of night when the men would not be distracted from their work.
Licking the pad of her thumb, she turned the page and continued reading. "Whenever he made a set to get near the Dardanian gates and under the walls, that his people might help him by showering down weapons from above, Achilles would gain on him and head him back towards the plain, keeping himself always on the city side. As a man in a dream who fails to lay hands upon another whom he is pursuing- the one cannot escape nor the other overtake- even so neither could Achilles come up with Hector, nor Hector break away from Achilles; nevertheless he might even yet have escaped death had not the time come when Apollo, who thus far had sustained his strength and nerved his running, was now no longer to stay by him..."
Blinking once, he turned his attention to the syllables echoing through his ears of that same sweet voice now bellowing out familiar words. He listened in awe as the young woman recited much of what he knew from heart only having read it so many times. The first poem from Homer's works Iliad. His jaw dropped in amazement, leaning forward closing his book at the same time leaning in straining to hear the excited enthusiastic voice, he had never thought the readings could sound so good, how it lingered in his ears like liquid honey. She definitely had a talent, learning to read was not common in these parts she must have been very lucky.
He followed the sound of her voice up on deck, silently and through the shadows careful not to be detected, but it was difficult not to mimic her words for they were the most beautiful he had ever heard. He took a step forward holding his own closed book to his side as he listened and mouthed the words along with the rest. It was then his eyes closed over and his vocals had taken over his own words to replace hers.
"....by Him. Achilles made signs to the Achaean host, and shook his head to show that no man was to aim a dart at Hector, lest another might win the glory of having hit him and he might himself come in second. Then, at last, as they were nearing the fountains for the fourth time, the father of all balanced his golden scales and placed a doom in each of them, one for Achilles and the other for Hector. As he held the scales by the middle, the doom of Hector fell down deep into the house of Hades- and then Phoebus Apollo left him. Thereon Minerva went close up to the son of Peleus and said, "Noble Achilles, favoured of heaven, we two shall surely take back to the ships a triumph for the Achaeans by slaying Hector, for all his lust of battle. Do what Apollo may as he lies grovelling before his father, aegis-bearing Jove, Hector cannot escape us longer. Stay here and take breath, while I go up to him and persuade him to make a stand and fight you." With his final breath, slowly opening his to get a reaction that he had not expect, much of the crew wide eyed and speechless. His lips parted as if to say something more, but no words could be found while getting lost in stunned looks he was receiving.
Dark eyes darted up from the pages of her own book curiously and somewhat shocked, finding herself drawn in by the other's voice while it completed the lines that were printed right in front of her. And she was stunned to find the young Gaara standing before her, short red hair rustling in the sea breeze of the night. This boy was just full of surprises. She had known or at least had suspected him to be a well-read person, he had to have been to make his statement of knowing three different languages true. But to have memorized such an epic piece of literature like The Iliad was impressive indeed. She herself only knew parts of it by heart, the more exciting portions of the text.
Hair billowing in the wind, having taken it down for the night to further keep her neck warm of the chilled ocean breeze while she read, the young girl brushed a few strands out of her eyes and locked gazes with his jaded gems glowing in the dim light of the moon. A smirk fixed firmly in place, she closed the pages of the book in her hand and began reciting from memory, rusty but remembered well enough, especially with the blood pumping through her veins from the prospect of making it a shared performance than a simple reading. "Thus spoke Minerva. Achilles obeyed her gladly, and stood still, leaning on his bronze-pointed ashen spear, while Minerva left him and went after Hector in the form and with the voice of Deiphobus. She came close up to him and said, 'Dear brother, I see you are hard pressed by Achilles who is chasing you at full speed round the city of Priam, let us await his onset and stand on our defence.'"
"And Hector answered, "Deiphobus, you have always been dearest to me of all my brothers, children of Hecuba and Priam, but henceforth I shall rate you yet more highly, inasmuch as you have ventured outside the wall for my sake when all the others remain inside." He followed after her, his voice becoming all the more solid as he spoke. The longer he had stared off into the dark eyes of his challenger the more lost he became in lowering his defense. The words were relaxing, soothing to the mind of the suppressed.
He tilted his head to her, forgetting much of the many crew listening around them. They had known the boy was smart, a genius in his own rites but to keep such things to themselves, to ignore his talents was saving his life. He was only a mule, a worker on this merchant vessel and when ever the captain found it in his best interest to teach the boy things of the sea to aid in his own benefit. His proud look of knowledge had swept over his face, as he was very much impressed at her solid attempts at doing the very same thing. He had memorized the book, yes, but he had not much else to do with his time when he was free. When not in the clutches of a torment in the form of a man.
Her eyes narrowed though the smirk only widened across her face as she lifted an arm and gestured with artistic flare, playing the part of Minerva as she saw fit for the entertainment of the crew as well as an added challenge to the young boy in front of her. Could he let himself go enough to join in and be the child he was never allowed to be, or would he continue to hold back a true part of his soul, the part that his father had tried to kill the moment he had come into the world?
With clean and easy strides, she circled around him where he stood, whispering sweetly into his ear like any temptress imploring the seeds of her wants in another, weaving her words as if they were threads of gold. "Then Minerva said, 'Dear brother, my father and mother went down on their knees and implored me, as did all my comrades, to remain inside, so great a fear has fallen upon them all; but I was in an agony of grief when I beheld you; now, therefore, let us two make a stand and fight, and let there be no keeping our spears in reserve, that we may learn whether Achilles shall kill us and bear off our spoils to the ships, or whether he shall fall before you.'"
A real smile poised his features at her flailing arms, embracing the part of the sister Minerva, enjoying the cute, talented spectacle she was performing for the sake of entertainment. He eyed her circling him like a vulture waiting for it's pray to be just right to land. Though finding her smooth, weightless movements as graceful as the calming tide of the ocean.
"I will-no longer fly you, son of Peleus," the words spilled from his lips, although still very much in his own quiet tone of similar octaves, he could never get into this they way she was, although he had wished he would let himself go and become what was written. To take the part and make it his own as she did, he was envious of her talent for such things. But even so in continuing, his words became more lost in the invisible text he was reading from, as a slightly dirty finger fiddled with the others almost nervously, "As I have been doing hitherto. Three times have I fled round the mighty city of Priam, without daring to withstand you, but now, let me either slay or be slain, for I am in the mind to face you. Let us, then, give pledges to one another by our gods, who are the fittest witnesses and guardians of all covenants; let it be agreed between us that if Jove vouchsafes me the longer stay and I take your life, I am not to treat your dead body in any unseemly fashion, but when I have stripped you of your armour, I am to give up your body to the Achaeans. And do you likewise." .....
It was moments later he began to drift from his dream into the brutality of life that awaited, feeling a last brush of his thumb over his own rough skin. Thinking of what it would be like to touch her face in the light of the Caribbean moon, he never even would begin to imagine a woman's skin had felt, when the thought was ripped from his grasp violently. The book he held in his hand dropped to the wooden deck with a thud, and a gasp of air sucked back as his smaller body slammed flush into a taller stronger one. His thin arms reaching up to wrap his hands around his wrists at sad attempt to calm the fury.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING BOY!" He barked, pulling him closer to smell the rank breath of liquor. "Yyou were...comonon to her...fithly braaat of yyour age annnd hers..."
He said nothing, but shaking his head from side to side no, his wobbling knees could hardly stay balanced as he never seen the man so angry with that flaring fire in his eyes to kill.
"Capt'n Gaar..." One of the crew tried speaking up but was only cut off in a fit of verbal lashes, as they turned from the scene as they always had hearing the shuffling as the boy was dragged off below decks. The merchants heavy boots hitting each time with a slight stagger.
"S'now your smart?...I'll beat that thhought frrom your head boy, I'll maake sure you don't remember your damn nname...."
Soft steps tapped out the rhythm in which his words flowed so perfectly from his mouth while she continued to circle around him, pretending as if they were in the home of Hector and Achilles themselves, walking the paths they walked and breathing in the same air. It was almost believable, as if it were a well-practiced performance for the crew. A foolish thought, perhaps considering Gaara was not allowed much free time save for the nights when he seemed too occupied with his reading to indulge in sleep. She had seen the light of his candle burning, flickering in the crew's quarters at all hours of the night when she had found sleep out of her reach and had decided to pass the time with a little stargazing. That was how the nightly readings began, when she had been found by a young deckhand inquiring about a book she had brought up with her to read when the stars had stopped being of interest. Often she had entertained the thought of asking him what he was reading but soon thought against it. It became clear that he was avoiding her after their first day, for one reason or another that she was not too sure on.
Shame, really. It was not often that she came across someone as well read as Gaara, and when she did, they were too snobbish and rude for her to ever engage in a conversation with, exchange ideas, make suggestions on what else to read, something to pass the time on the ship until they reached the next port and give them a reprieve from the endless ocean of blue that constantly surrounded them. But Gaara was normally a solitary figure, and she would at least respect that. And she would also revel in this rare moment of confidence in him, knowing that there was a chance that it would never happen again...made apparent by the looming figure standing behind him.
Her face fell and turned to that resembling an offspring of horror as she watched the merchant captain manhandle his son, slurring his words like the drunk he was and dragging the young boy to the safeties of the shadows where his dark deeds would be hidden. She made an attempt to stop him, to do something to calm the man's rage (because it was her belief that this was all her fault, if not partially). But the crew had stopped her, had held her back from uttering a word. They merely shook their heads and looked on solemnly to the sounds floating up from below deck. There was nothing she could do.