#ratcaulker

The Terror Appreciation Week: Day 7 :: Favorite Fandom Creation

The Terror RP Community

In conclusion to The Terror Appreciation Week, I’d like to make a special shoutout to The Terror RP Community! We’re small and tight-knight, and through our love of the Franklin Expedition / the AMC show, I’ve met some insanely talented writers. They’ve made me laugh, uncontrollably cry, everything in between, and over and over again fall in love with the characters they portray on a whole ‘nother level. The time and dedication they put into writing and exploring the nooks and crannies of their characters and the insight they give is so impressive I have to pinch myself they’re not actually ghost-written by {insert-character-names-here} themselves!

P.S. Thanks for also welcoming my oc with wide open arms into our great Franklin Expedition alternate universe(s)! We’re only getting started and it’s an awesome ride!

> “You really thought this all out?”

‘Not at once, no, not all of it’, Hickey replies evenly, his sharp eyes narrowing. He paces right and left, his worn old boots crunching in the snow.

‘It came to me in waves, shall we say.’ He keeps his voice low, so that only she can hear. ‘Fine, I’ll admit, I found a lot of inspiration after Crozier had me flogged. Kept me up at night, the wounds did. Humiliating. But it got me to thinking about what I’d do, if I ever got the chance for…’

He shrugs. Stops his pacing. With a soft sigh, he cocks the hunting rifle at her.

‘Well, I’ve the chance now. Things have been falling apart for some time, even you must’ve noticed that. Crozier’s done for, one way or another. It’s time for a change in leadership, I’d say. And me, I’ve been preparing for the event.’

Hickey resolutely juts his thin jaw out and jerks his head in the direction of the icy plains.

‘Do come along with us, Miss Kimbleton. It’s either that or I’ll have to get rid of you. So don’t even think of screaming, or attacking someone, or doing anything rash. It’ll end real ugly for you.’

He whistles to the other mutineers and sets them in motion, waiting a moment more to see if the girl intends to follow along.

‘Now, now. Don’t be stubborn, Miss. I promise you’ll come to no harm, if only you behave nice. Just do as I say and we may all get out of here alive. Might be you’ll even be thanking me one day, eh?’

He sniggers at the intensity of her expression.

‘Oh, dear me. Why, you’ll never see eye to eye with me, I can tell. Let alone be grateful - even if I do end up saving your skin. Doesn’t matter, though. Your approval ain’t worth a penny to me. Because I’m in charge now, see?’

~*~

Blue hues widened in terror staring down the barrel of Hickey’s rifle, followed by a stolen gasp from her lips as her blood ran cold. Priscilla’s gaze trailed to Hickey’s face, shuddering with a grimace of confusion, her heart racing heavily within the constraints of her chest. 

Unfortunately, a fraction of his words weren’t entirely wrong. Since Sir John’s act of hubris, things had only gone from bad to worse. Incessantly she grieved the loss of friends and acquaintances more so these past winters than in her life, and her own health had begun to dwindle with each passing week.

However, she knew full well that it was only Captain Crozier’s leadership that kept them all from degenerating into complete brute beasts and savages.

So why did he think to involve her in an act of mutiny when it was otherwise apparent where her loyalties stood, even with the coaxing threat of gunpoint? Well, if he was going to take her life - so be it. She didn’t survive this long in the Arctic to cowardly forfeit now.

Silent as the grave, Priscilla eyed every one of the mutineers cautiously... memorizing the names of those she recognized and the faces of those she did not. Just in case. And then, back to Hickey, teeth clenched behind thinly pressed lips and her trembling hands closed into fists as the kindled lioness within her snarled.

So she roars with laughter. Exasperation peppered with lead poisoned madness Funny, didn’t she fatefully once tell Mr. Hickey she’d proceed into the unknown laughing? But in reality, she hoped her clamor could draw someone’s attention her way - a plea for help since she could not scream.

“I see, alright. And what benefit do you gain by having the likes of me among your little party?”

‘The only thing I could, sir’, Hickey rasps out. ‘I sliced open the side nearest to me and got out of the way of everyone else. That’s all. I can’t remember much after that.’

Hickey’s face is less blackened by smoke than that of other survivors. Yet still he feels the soot seeping in though the pores of his skin. It contains the charred fragments of his crew mates. They’re in his lungs now.

It’s a nasty feeling.

One thing worries him. Why these interrogations? They can’t bring back all the people who’d burned to death. What’s done is done.

Unless… Crozier can’t know what Hickey did that night, can he?

A cold sweat shivers down his back. He’s sure no one saw him. And there would only be bones left after such a raging fire. No evidence to pick through, no gaping wound to match his knife.

Besides, Hickey doesn’t think what he did counts as murder.

It was just rotten bad luck.

It was no accident, either, but he hadn’t killed Dr MacDonald out of cruelty. He’d only wanted to help. It had been a matter of sacrificing one life for the survival of the rest.

He’d do it again, too. He’d do anything that needed to be done.

Because Hickey had guts.

The Captain looked the other man over for a moment and gave a solemn nod. Two weeks of his own personal hell had brought him into the jaws of what might have been close to actual Hell with so much fire and death. Doctor MacDonald’s death along with Doctor Stanley’s meant that they no longer had a doctor and for what was ahead, it was a very serious problem and needed to be recorded officially somehow, Francis would write it in the ship’s log, it was all he could do.

While he considered the other’s words, he also took in his appearance, Hickey had evidently not had his turn at the basin and for the long night they had all suffered, even those who were prone to questioning his word deserved some respite and perhaps some reassurance. “Thank you, Mister Hickey. It is a formality that I must ask this at such a time. I am merely trying to discern if more could have been done to save lives or prevent it all together.” Exhausted and in dire need of a good sleep, Francis rubbed over one side of his face, over his eye to try and persuade it to keep him awake for a little longer.