Leonard stretched appreciatively as he stepped out onto the deck of the Lady Grey, feeling oddly at home in spite of the crick in his neck he'd acquired from sleeping in the hammock below decks.
It wasn't that he was used to a life of luxury, not anymore, and frankly it was a godsend that their small acting troupe, The Lady of the Buick had managed to gain passage on this ship to the colonies, where they hoped to entertain bored diplomats and their wives.
(Though none of them were ladies, of course, the literary reference had convinced Leonard that naming themselves thus, after Bill had gotten this startlingly bad idea one morning on the road, was, perhaps not so bad an idea after all. Or maybe it was merely that he could never deny Bill anything, no matter how silly the request.)
The sea was calm, the skies blue, but the wind had picked up a fair bit since last night, and they should make decent speed if it continued like this. Leonard found himself surprised just how much he had missed this, the way the deck swayed beneath his feet, the creak of the wooden boards, the salty breeze.
His father, when we was young, had insisted that he join the Navy, a lowly-ranked officer there himself, and committed to the service, so Leonard had spent many of his formative years as a midshipman.
But that life had never been for him - for one, he couldn't abide violence, although he had learned how to fight, grudgingly. From as early on as he could remember, he had found himself drawn to stories, to poetry, to the powerful tales that playwrights wove, to the spell actors wove around the crowds watching them.
So when he had come of age, finally, with his training almost complete, he had resigned his commission, much to his father's displeasure, dissolved his engagement to the pretty Sandy, and joined a travelling group of actors to learn from them. The life of an actor was hard, and often poor, but he had never been happier than when he stood on the stage, immersed in Shakespeare, the crowd hanging on to every word that fell from his lips.
He hummed a ditty under his breath (http://www.megaupload.com/?d=8TYD0ZQI) as he traversed the deck, catching sight of the second mate who had secured them this passage.
"Lovely day for it," he commented to the man beside him.
Damn for not having pictures of Len in period costuming. :(
It wasn't that he was used to a life of luxury, not anymore, and frankly it was a godsend that their small acting troupe, The Lady of the Buick had managed to gain passage on this ship to the colonies, where they hoped to entertain bored diplomats and their wives.
(Though none of them were ladies, of course, the literary reference had convinced Leonard that naming themselves thus, after Bill had gotten this startlingly bad idea one morning on the road, was, perhaps not so bad an idea after all. Or maybe it was merely that he could never deny Bill anything, no matter how silly the request.)
The sea was calm, the skies blue, but the wind had picked up a fair bit since last night, and they should make decent speed if it continued like this. Leonard found himself surprised just how much he had missed this, the way the deck swayed beneath his feet, the creak of the wooden boards, the salty breeze.
His father, when we was young, had insisted that he join the Navy, a lowly-ranked officer there himself, and committed to the service, so Leonard had spent many of his formative years as a midshipman.
But that life had never been for him - for one, he couldn't abide violence, although he had learned how to fight, grudgingly. From as early on as he could remember, he had found himself drawn to stories, to poetry, to the powerful tales that playwrights wove, to the spell actors wove around the crowds watching them.
So when he had come of age, finally, with his training almost complete, he had resigned his commission, much to his father's displeasure, dissolved his engagement to the pretty Sandy, and joined a travelling group of actors to learn from them. The life of an actor was hard, and often poor, but he had never been happier than when he stood on the stage, immersed in Shakespeare, the crowd hanging on to every word that fell from his lips.
He hummed a ditty under his breath (http://www.megaupload.com/?d=8TYD0ZQI) as he traversed the deck, catching sight of the second mate who had secured them this passage.
"Lovely day for it," he commented to the man beside him.