![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
15
Title: Enhancement
Rating: G
Pairing: Gen but Shanks/Ben
Word Count: 578
A/N: Some playing around w/presentation/perspective
It was his idea, had to be his because it was his flag after all even if they were all sailing under it and have chosen to make it their own. He did not require approval but because he was who he was, he asked all the same. The crew needed this, as much or maybe more than he did. The battle and its victory had been theirs but they had not emerged unscathed. What they needed was something to rally around, a new idea to occupy their thoughts and a bit of good humor to lighten the mood.
His attempt was met with a general murmur of acceptance, of the sense that the change was a good one. After all, the original had been somewhat generic even if it was representative of what they stood for, who they were, who he was. The new design felt more unique, more personal because it indelibly was, and it was more purposeful in some respects, more threatening and proud. Only a few muttered asides and the faint ghost of a smile hovering at the corner of his first mate’s mouth marred his moment and he resigned himself to holding his tongue, waiting for whatever verdict would be delivered.
Beckman walked the fine line dividing captain from crew, always balancing one side’s needs against the other. That night he spoke for the men when he finally opened his mouth, delivered his opinion in a suitably dry tone. “A fitting change, Captain. Might I make one small suggestion, however?”
He sighed theatrically and inclined his head with mock resignation, every action belied by the broad grin that kept threatening to put in an appearance on his face. That was their stock in trade for the more serious situations, moving the moment from its climax and back into the good-natured cheer and teasing that was the usual nature of the ship. For once the captain and the first mate could relax, move forward, it was certainly safe for the crew to follow.
Beckman kept up his solemn façade as he stood, walked over to study the new flag with a critical eye. “It would perhaps be for the best,” he said, once silence had descended and held, waiting for his decree, “if someone else made the modifications until this comes off.”
And Beckman reached up and tapped him lightly on the temple, just at the edge of the gauze and bandages blocking his left eye. “Your vision, Captain, is splendid but your artistic perception is a tad…off center.”
“And here I thought that was just th’ booze workin’,” Davit offered, laughing as he raised his own mug to gesture towards the new design.
“You too?” He raised the back of his hand to his temple and sniffed. “No appreciation for talent, not from any of you louts. But I suppose we can’t have a crooked flag. Yasopp, if you’ll do the honors?”
The sniper took the paint can and the brush and offered his own cocky smile to the captain even as he nodded to Beckman. “No worries. My sight’s clear and my hand steady.” And then the gunner scrambled aloft to wrestle the flag down into the crow’s nest to make the change. A cheer went up when Yasopp was finished and the captain did the honors of leading the first toast of the evening while the newly modified jolly roger grinned its eternal grin as it flew proudly in the breeze.
Rating: G
Pairing: Gen but Shanks/Ben
Word Count: 578
A/N: Some playing around w/presentation/perspective
It was his idea, had to be his because it was his flag after all even if they were all sailing under it and have chosen to make it their own. He did not require approval but because he was who he was, he asked all the same. The crew needed this, as much or maybe more than he did. The battle and its victory had been theirs but they had not emerged unscathed. What they needed was something to rally around, a new idea to occupy their thoughts and a bit of good humor to lighten the mood.
His attempt was met with a general murmur of acceptance, of the sense that the change was a good one. After all, the original had been somewhat generic even if it was representative of what they stood for, who they were, who he was. The new design felt more unique, more personal because it indelibly was, and it was more purposeful in some respects, more threatening and proud. Only a few muttered asides and the faint ghost of a smile hovering at the corner of his first mate’s mouth marred his moment and he resigned himself to holding his tongue, waiting for whatever verdict would be delivered.
Beckman walked the fine line dividing captain from crew, always balancing one side’s needs against the other. That night he spoke for the men when he finally opened his mouth, delivered his opinion in a suitably dry tone. “A fitting change, Captain. Might I make one small suggestion, however?”
He sighed theatrically and inclined his head with mock resignation, every action belied by the broad grin that kept threatening to put in an appearance on his face. That was their stock in trade for the more serious situations, moving the moment from its climax and back into the good-natured cheer and teasing that was the usual nature of the ship. For once the captain and the first mate could relax, move forward, it was certainly safe for the crew to follow.
Beckman kept up his solemn façade as he stood, walked over to study the new flag with a critical eye. “It would perhaps be for the best,” he said, once silence had descended and held, waiting for his decree, “if someone else made the modifications until this comes off.”
And Beckman reached up and tapped him lightly on the temple, just at the edge of the gauze and bandages blocking his left eye. “Your vision, Captain, is splendid but your artistic perception is a tad…off center.”
“And here I thought that was just th’ booze workin’,” Davit offered, laughing as he raised his own mug to gesture towards the new design.
“You too?” He raised the back of his hand to his temple and sniffed. “No appreciation for talent, not from any of you louts. But I suppose we can’t have a crooked flag. Yasopp, if you’ll do the honors?”
The sniper took the paint can and the brush and offered his own cocky smile to the captain even as he nodded to Beckman. “No worries. My sight’s clear and my hand steady.” And then the gunner scrambled aloft to wrestle the flag down into the crow’s nest to make the change. A cheer went up when Yasopp was finished and the captain did the honors of leading the first toast of the evening while the newly modified jolly roger grinned its eternal grin as it flew proudly in the breeze.