(no subject)
CHARACTER INFORMATION
Name: Archie Allistair Kennedy
Canon: Horatio Hornblower
LJ: twicedisplaced.livejournal.com
Character & Media Information: Archie Kennedy was originally created by the author of the Horatio Hornblower series, C. S. Forester. His part in the books was so minor, it lasted less than a page, and merely stated that the young lieutenant was a somewhat accomplished dancer, and served upon a ship during the late 1700's and early 1800's.
In 1998, the television channel A&E released a four-part series based on the Horatio Hornblower series. While taking some elements from the books, the series mostly hinged on a loose interpretation of the aforementioned books. Due to this fact, the character of Archie Kennedy was cast in a "sidekick" role, sounding off as the conscience of the title character.
The character of Archie Kennedy was shown as a flawed individual, despite his ability to steer Horatio Hornblower towards proper thinking. He was an epileptic, and had problems with bullies on board ship -- two factors which seemed to go hand-in-hand. Evidence of this can be seen near the end of the first part of the series, where Kennedy suffers a seizure (brought on by some very poor recent experiences) and must be rendered unconscious during a raiding party on an enemy ship.
After being struck unconscious, he was set adrift and soon found himself as a POW to the Spanish, in a prison at El Ferrol. He spent three years in the Spanish prison, before being rescued by Horatio Hornblower and several former crew members.
His career is somewhat undistinguished from there, slowly raising the ranks behind Hornblower. Consistently overlooked by command, Kennedy suffered a great many setbacks, including one that would ultimately lead to his "demise," according to the Royal Navy. During an on-ship battle, Fourth Lieutenant Kennedy was mortally wounded by an escaped Spanish prisoner. He was afforded a slow and painful death, which ended with him taking the blame for a previously committed crime, allowing Horatio Hornblower to go on to promotion, despite having a hand in damaging a Fleet Captain and Hero of the Nile.
Character Perception: My perception of the character had changed over years of role playing. After the incident involving the Fleet Captain (mentioned above,) Archie was pulled from his current timeline by an entity he had believed to be a fellow officer.
Since his change in venue, he has been a bartender and bar owner, as well as a sailor, and a longshoreman -- anything he could manage to do to survive. More recently, he has taken his love for literature and followed in his father's footsteps, allowing him to be a school teacher for 9 months out of the year.
I see him as an intelligent but troubled individual, at odds with himself. He must reconcile a life of misfortune, without losing sight of the accomplishments he has made from beneath those unfortunate circumstances.
Timeline: Removed from 1801 -- right before the incident involving mutiny on the H.M.S. Retribution.
Picture: http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c68/misskittypti/ArchieKennedy1.jpg
Ticket: "Time knows not the Winds of change. Wind knows not the Times of change. You are needed."
Inventory: One large black camping pack containing several changes of clothing (three pairs of slacks, three dress shirts, one sweater, two pairs of shoes, four pairs of socks, underwear, and various other clothing and hygiene essentials,) as well as various survival supplies (including matches, paper, a small first-aid kit, rope, candles, and a thin blanket.) In addition (assuming he is able to take it with him,) he is traveling with a Browning HP-Practical semi-automatic 9mm pistol with a magazine capacity of 10+1. He also carries one extra ammunition clip, and a full box of 9mm ammo.
Additional Notes: For more information on Archie, you can visit my character website at: http://www.geocities.com/archiekennedylt
Role Play Sample, Part 1: She was a fair-haired woman, much younger and livelier than he had expected. While she was older than he was, there wasn't nearly as much worldliness to her as there were to the others. She was still young, and hadn't yet fallen completely into the trap that held people to a business they rarely had a chance to escape from.
Funny thing was, she seemed to like her job.
Archie hadn't intended to do anything but pay her, spend the night, and then leave it at that. No trips to the pub, no stopping off to get himself something to eat -- he had limited time and limited means, and after a miserable enough eternity out on the water, he just wanted to find something to hold on to, however fleeting.
The woman had made it a point to choose him, from what he could tell. At the time, it hadn't mattered to Archie, since choosiness was something reserved for the rich and listless. They exchanged money, not words, and he followed her blindly to whatever their destination was going to be, shaking the two-pence in change around in his hand.
"I'm Amalia," she said brightly, as she left him in the doorway and went about lighting some candles. "But you can call me whatever you like; that's what you've paid for, right?"
Kennedy scratched at the side of his head, not sure what to say. She didn't seem distraught by the idea, or bitter like the words would have seemed under any other circumstance. "I, uh..." Wasn't it just supposed to be about the sex? He couldn't recall any of the women introducing themselves before.
Amalia finished lighting the last candle and then started smoothing down the sheets on her bed. She seemed to be such a busy body; the type that hardly took a moment to stop moving. "Well, come on, then!"
He blinked and tilted his head for a moment, not sure what to do. It should have been blatantly obvious, really, but he was thrown off by the sheer amount of normality she had managed to fit into a room where she would take men and conduct business with them. A large case full of books caught his attention, and he walked over to it, squinting in the low light and trying to pick out titles. "You like to read?"
"Just because men pay to sleep with me, doesn't mean that I don't have time to exercise my mind, lieutenant."
"Barely," he murmured in reference to his rank, running a finger over the spines of the books. The other hand was half occupied, trying to unbutton his uniform jacket, while still holding on to the two-pence. It wasn't an easy task.
Before he had a chance to get the jacket off completely, she was standing next to him, offering over a glass of rum. "I didn't catch your name." She smiled and pushed the drink into his hand before stepping away to pour herself a glass.
Archie looked down at the rum, feeling more confused by the minute. "I hardly believe that's of any consequence, ma'am." He wondered, for a moment, whether drinks with clients were customary with this woman, but he wasn't about to turn down the offer.
"I'll bet it's something terribly disappointing, isn't it? Like Roderick," she teased, sitting down on the edge of the bed with her rum in hand.
He raised an eyebrow and turned, looking at her. "Something like that, yes." Archie sipped at the rum and moved over to sit down on the bed as well.
Amalia grinned and set her glass aside, reaching out to work the loose uniform jacket off of his shoulders. She didn't say anything; just laid the jacket carefully across a nearby chair and waited patiently.
For a moment, Archie wished he had kept his money and saved it for the next time he was in port. Suddenly, he wasn't in the mood for a meaningless night with a whore who he would likely never see again.
"You seem so sullen for a man who's just gotten himself a new uniform and a new title."
At least she was observant. He drained his glass and turned it around in his hands, looking down at the candlelight played off of it. She was right: As exciting and relieving as leave tended to be, he was feeling as if he'd stepped away from a life of at least half-certainty, and was moving into a place of total uncertainty. Instead of talking about it, though, he said the first thing he could think of to change the subject, "My name's Archie."
- --------- - --
From there, it was like he had found a kindred spirit. It was probably half because of the rum, but Amalia seemed to be interested in everything Archie had to say. They shared a bottle between the two of them, dispensing with the glasses a quarter of the way through as they spoke of their lives with an openness that only drunks managed.
He told her of his misgivings, and she listened. She told him about how she enjoyed the life she had managed, and he listened. They laughed and passed the bottle until there was no more, and then just leaned against the wall, reveling in their lack of sobriety.
And when she finally fell asleep, Archie imagined that he loved her. He knew it wasn't true, but between the haze and his own insecurities, it felt like the right place to be.
It was doubtful that he would get what he had originally paid for, but it didn't seem so bad. Really, he wasn't even sure he had been looking for the sex itself; he felt as if he had just been looking for something, and she had given him that. She had given him something to hold on to, and that was well worth the money he had spent.
As he laid down beside her and pulled himself close, it didn't even occur to him that when he woke up, she will have been paid for a night of nothing more than talk. Had he been a more suspicious man, he might have accused her of swindling him, but instead, he pressed his face into her hair and closed his eyes.
- --------- - --
Morning came quickly, and surprisingly. Archie's head ached, and he was chilled, even with a mess of blankets draped over him. It would have been peaceful, if not for the pounding headache, and the feeling that he had done something that he couldn't quite remember.
Amalia was pressed up against his side, her face rested against his shoulder. She had to be sleeping, really, because everything about her seemed relaxed, and tell-tale signs told him that he had, indeed, gotten what he had paid for, whether he remembered it or not.
Reaching a hand up, he rubbed at his face for a moment, then carefully pulled himself away from her, knowing that he had to get back to his ship. The arm she had draped over him tightened its grip, and he relaxed back down on to the bed. It was a good feeling to be held and wanted, even if it was just a farce.
Again, he imagined that he loved her, but it didn't seem to have the same force behind it after the rum had worn off. He thought, carefully, about how he would have loved to tell her that she was the only one for him, and how they could run off together and live a happy, comfortable life. But the feelings just weren't there. If anything, he valued her more as a merciful soul; observant and kind and willing to listen when it was needed. She wasn't right for him, but he wished that she was.
"Why do you do it?" He asked, quietly, reaching an arm around her and pulling her close. At least he could make her feel wanted as well, even if it was just a farce.
"Because I enjoy it," she said, simply. It was a fair answer, considering.
"Thank you." Archie leaned his head down and pressed his nose into the hair on the top of her hair, grasping for some connection that wasn't there. He yearned for a moment where he could say he once loved this woman, but he couldn't have it. Things just didn't work that way.
A long moment passed before time pressed him into action, and he finally stood up and got dressed, leaving Amalia in the bed. As he shrugged on his uniform jacket, he took a last look around the too-normal room, and then settled on the woman one last time. "I wish I didn't have to say goodbye..."
She smiled, but didn't open her eyes. "We won't see each other again, so it's fitting."
He nodded and looked down at his hands, needing something to concentrate on. He knew she was right; they had been acquaintances, and partners in an act of desperation, and nothing more. They would never see each other again.
"You'll be late," she reminded him, seeming so young and yet so wise in such an awkward moment for him.
"Goodbye." He turned and grabs the doorknob, adding very quietly, "And thank you, again."
"Goodbye, Archie Kennedy. I won't forget..."
It was the last he'd hear from her, but it was all right. He stepped out the door and closed it behind him, knowing that she had been different.
He had left his two-pence behind, though he hadn't been sure why at the time. It was carefully balanced on the top of the empty rum bottle; a half-conscious reminder to him that it was all he could offer her. It hadn't been meant as a tip, or something cruel -- just a reminder to himself that some things can't work out how he wanted them to.
There wasn't love, or heartache to follow; just the quiet understanding that she had been someone for him to hold on to, even if it was fleeting.