Hi! Sorry for the wait, but we blew the internet quota so everything has been slow. And, mum gave me a bunch of jobs to do around the house to earn money since I can't get a job hehehehe...
Anyway, excuses that you won't read aside, I have some important news. While I was mucking around reading Star Wars ffics, one of the authors mentioned a natural climax, and it kind of came to me that pushing my minimum word limit on chapters (3,700-3,799 words) makes it very awkward, both for you, the reader, and me, to pick up on the last chapter.
So, I've reduced the word minimum to 'natural climax.' This probably means shorter chapters, and definitely longer chapters.
I hope this means that my writing is improving, hehehehehe...
Another thing to close this long-arse AN, thank you for 3,000 views! And thank you shugokage and timijaf for continuously reviewing on my story. Without you, I probably wouldn't have felt so guilty for not updating.
Suspiciously, the bow of the ship was always empty when I swung around to relax there. Occasionally Victor or Nick would come with to chat but often left before I felt the need to go back inside. Sometimes I watched the area from a distance, and yet nobody would go there. I have a feeling that everyone had designated that spot as mine and still worshipped the ground I walked on.
Despite the dangers, I liked sitting where the rails joined to make an angle, legs swinging in the breeze. If it had a figurehead or a longer piece of stick attached to the front like many old, pre-industrial revolution ships had I wouldn't have minded spending time hanging off that.
Unfortunately, this was the 20th century, and powered ships no longer attained the majestic and slightly horrifying people attached to their bow. And it wasn't like I could die from falling from the height and being run over by the boat; it would just take a longer time for me to heal after being brutally murdered and chopped up by the rudders.
Sometimes the boat rocks – not often, as it was a gigantic ship – and I almost do fall off, saved only by quick reflexes, my legs hooking onto the railing and squeezing, winding around the poles.
Such position Gerrant found me, along with the man with the Japanese fans for wings. By being upside down I was facing them, so I had no thoughts of getting up. Gerrant's jaws chatter, a little laughter escaping, although mostly covered by the sound of bones banging and grinding together. His finger bones clink as he waves the other man forward. The fans were open, as part of my attempt to show that no mutant has to hide their powers anymore, splashes of paint, shapes and colour constantly rearranging and twisting on the fingers of the fan. As per usual, it was so abstract that I couldn't pick an emotion he was feeling.
In his hand he held a long piece of paper which he held out to me, quickly retreating when I took it without a word.
Casting a little glance back to the Japanese fans, I unfold the paper, taking in the contents.
Caller: Mr James Barnes. Receiver: Madam Lyall Howlett, on the 13th of January, 1942.
Caller: His Majesty King George the Sixth. Receiver: Madam Lyall Howlett, on the 29th of December, 1941.
Caller: Mr Steve Rogers AKA Captain America. Receiver: Madam Lyall Howlett, on the 11th of December, 1941.
All calls were made towards the Official Stark-Howlett line. None were connected towards the intended recipient as Howlett was not in contact with any Starks.
This morning at 3 am (14th of January, 1942) the telegram onboard the Olympic was reconnected and Sir Nick Fury-Howlett-Creed made contact with a Stark member (Sir Howard Stark). The opposing party was made aware that the telephone onboard the Olympic had not been working for the entirety of the ship's trip from Germany.
"Who wrote this?" I ask, looking up to find that only the man was there. The fans were flat against his back, the shifting designs thrown in the shadow as the setting sun sat behind him.
"G-Gerrant," he mutters, refusing to make eye contact, preferring to stare at his bare feet. "He was at the telegram since he was basically the only person who knew how to set it up."
"Should've known by the positively ancient style of writing." I laugh, slowly pushing one of my feet against the supporting poles and heaving my body over the railing. "Right, I'll go to the telegram." I pause, looking away from the piece of paper and back to the fans.
"They're really pretty. Can you take me to the communication room? I don't have a clue here it is." The man's fans flatten, and snap shut, pressing against his back. Meekly, he scuttles past me and leads the way.
"Why have the telephones been broken since Germany?" I ask as I enter, and the nearly the whole room freezes. Nick and Gerrant were over by the telegrams, tapping out replies lighting quick and writing down answers with one hand, barely looking at the paper. Victor was lounged in a chair, a cloth over his face. Either he was asleep or he was dead.
The nearest man, a barely-adult man with the power to control shapeshift tiny pieces of him (i.e. his ears or fingers) coughs and mutters out how a few mutants got rowdy from being released from the human's eyes and damaged the telephone line.
I laugh it off, much to the surprise of the room and continue over to Nick and Gerrant. I find a nearby seat and drag it over to my son, not annoying him until he took off the headset.
He sighed as I drew him into my lap, curling my arms around his stomach.
"Hii~!" I say, tickling him a little down his sides. "What they want?"
"Well, basically, they all wanted to speak only to you. Bucky mentioned something along the lines of 'mutants in Germany' and 'whatta 'bout it, eh' and 'it would be nice to see you again, come fight with us.' Stark said that he wondered how old I was, and then mentioned something about Steve. The other two were tight-lipped."
"The King?"
"I donno. Just asked to speak to you at your convenience. Steve just mumbled about him wanting to talk to you, but Stark said he evaded any questions. I can ask Stark to send over a script of them all."
"Nah, let them wait for a bit more anyway; I've let the king of England wait for a few weeks, all of them can wait until we land on the island, set up the community and ship off to find more mutants."
"Yeah, what about that?" Gerrant leans over, along with the captain of the ship. "Captain Betty here came over to ask you."
"Well, I was thinking that because I've got these calls, it's best to answer in person, and we've still got to load people up from East Asia and South Africa. I like to make America realise it's not the first place everyone thinks of, so leave them last. Not a decade later, just wait until like the end of the year or something. And it's gonna take America – both south and north – to gather in one spot, so let them rally." The captain squinted her eyes but stayed silent. Gerrant and Nick didn't seem to be bothered by my view of America and Victor just let out an obnoxious snore.
"I'd like to extend my holiday away from the front line as long as possible, so I'll say visit East Asia some place like India, then ship through the Red Sea to land in Egypt and I'll hitch a ride – probs a plane – to Europe or Britain."
Nick nodded and started to play around with my fingers against his stomach.
"So who's coming back with us?" I ask, and the captain thinks.
"Well, I know that I'm coming with you Lyall," Victor mutters under his cloth and resumes sleeping (or dying, I don't know).
"That would take rest of the year, Madam," the captain replies, tugging a little on the snakes that were her hair. "Wouldn't you want to get to the king as soon as possible?"
"Nah," I laugh, waving away her concerns. "The King is probably just asking after me and my wellbeing."
"Oh, well, then," Captain Betty huffs, "I'll inform the navigators and we'll start planning out the route and dates." She left, several snakes hissing goodbye and one even snapping up the cloth over Victor's face. Mortified, she tries to return it, but the snake refuses to let go of the blanket. She retreats with a flaming face as Victor slowly wakes up.
"Gerrant, any idea on how to set up will go?"
"Well, to your recommendation, we conducted a survey of everyone on board on what part of their government they like and dislike. As your demands, all who showed favouritism towards communism was approached with caution. The future government of this island was based on most English-speaking countries and the school curriculum was based on the Australia. You said you still wanted to look over that, so it's sitting on your desk." A desk that I had not visited for the past few weeks.
"Furthermore, the USA, Australia, and East Asia branches of LYALL have received the message about this island and has spread it out in the community, the slums first and the upper class last." I give him a watery smile and immediately let it drop.
I was worried that me, a person who has no skills in the politics area, will try and fail to create a new government that promoted equality and justice and leaving everyone happy in the end. The only politics that I had really learnt was 'look at history and see how awful communism is.'
Nick stopped fiddling around with my hands and rested his over mine and squeezed.
"Noona," Nick says, in Korean of all things, "it's okay, I'm sure that we can create a government suitable for mutants. It's okay if you go on your own without hyung and me." I raise my eyebrows at the choice of language but nevertheless, reply in Korean.
"Thank you Nick, but I want to spend time with you two regardless. I have been gone for thirty plus years."
Nick slightly brightened at this words, young face smoothing out at my words. He doesn't hug me – 60 years too late for those – but he does lean his upper body on mine.
Oh yes, I forgot to tell you, I have a tumblr under the same username for you to shoot asks over. Nice anons welcome, and I will gladly answer any questions. Beaware, it's memes/kpop.