vienna-kangaroo

Arthur admires the extent of the ship’s stores with a smile. No one else is in the vicinity, but if they were, they’d chastise him for being overly self-congratulatory. He’s satisfied that he has the right to be. He breathes in the scents of oak and malt, unavoidably tinged with salt, and has never been more at ease with the choice he made to cast his old life aside. Defiance, rechristened Vigilant, is more than capable of what the boatswain estimates will be a six-month journey, before returning to a West Indian port. It’s a fresh experience, however; his last excursion on the water began in March and was finished bef

To avoid confusion I'd recommend checking out the description first! -- Gilbert never thought being dead could be so productive. He’d almost venture to say he’s achieved more while dead than alive. It helps that he’s had over a hundred years tacked on to his lifespan already, and he still appears to be living, for the most part. There’s been plenty with which to fill the hours: learning new hobbies and relearning old ones (the advent and growing usefulness of the firearm still hasn’t put him off taking his old rapier for a spin), trial-and-erroring his way through the best methods of finding and consuming fresh

September, 1835. “The worst and the strangest part of your life,” England says, “is now. You must get used to explaining yourself.” As the guests file into the dining room, Australia begins to understand what he means. Out of the whole group to join them, a combination of military officers and prison authorities, a very small proportion have ever seen Australia in person. To them, he is an enigma; certainly, those which have never seen him before have a hard time believing a personification can look so young. It doesn’t help his case, Australia supposes, that he has since rejected the name ‘New South Wales&

The ship, and nearly all her crew and passengers with her, were lost on the 22nd of May. On the 24th, Dorothy started making model boats.   Her fingers hurt a little, of course. Red, cold, and sometimes even damp, they caught on the makeshift sails and left unsightly blotches on the hulls. The hulls were one of the hardest bits. Hours were consumed by the whittling and painting and drying. The rigging was even worse; the threading she used was almost impossible to keep a tight grip upon, and the variations of beige and brown and black meant they often vanished entirely if dropped to the dirt floor. As for the masts, these took an enormous amo