That made sense, he supposed, but it wasn't great news for the Voyager. Hopefully if they discovered trace amounts of the curse elsewhere on the ship during this little tour, they would at least be easy for her to remove. She did say that she'd been able to consolidate some of the cursed areas already, hadn't she? So if the curse was smaller, or weaker, in those areas, maybe it would be easy to just get it out entirely.
"Alright — bow to stern it is," he said, trying to make his voice sound at least a little cheerful. If he was gloomy the entire time they went about this, it was going to get old very quickly, he thought. He could at least pretend, for a while, not to be worried. Besides, under other circumstances, this would have been something he would have loved to do. He loved the Voyager, and he knew every bit of her. He would have gladly given a tour to anyone, and talked their ear off as he went — and of course he'd always wanted to do this for Zelda. He just hadn't imagined it quite like this: with the two of them not having spoken in months and her only here because the Ministry had tasked her to be. With him potentially dying.
Nevermind that. He could just pretend, for a few moments, that this was just about the Voyager. "Come on," he called, heading down the nearest ladderwell and wending his way to the front of the boat, pausing occasionally to see that she was following. By the time he stopped at the forewardmost part of the ship, he felt a little winded, which was unusual — but he had been lying around in his flat doing nothing for a month, so maybe that had something to do with it.
"I'll just walk you through it, alright? I'll tell you what we're passing as we go, and you tell me if we need to stop and investigate anything," he told her. Then he began the tour, leading her through crew berthing rooms, storage lockers, the anchor house, the armory, the galley, the forward cargo hold, the mess hall. Every once in a while that hitch would come in his chest again, but he ignored it — until, suddenly, it caught hold of him and didn't dissipate. It felt like something was pressing his lungs, keeping them from reaching their full capacity — his breath was shallower than it should have been. They'd gone lower on the ship as he'd walked her through it; maybe the air down here was stale, for some reason? Maybe something perishable had been left onboard and he was catching the effects of it?
"Everything alright so far?" he asked Zelda, wondering if she'd noticed anything, or if it was just him.
MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER
"Alright — bow to stern it is," he said, trying to make his voice sound at least a little cheerful. If he was gloomy the entire time they went about this, it was going to get old very quickly, he thought. He could at least pretend, for a while, not to be worried. Besides, under other circumstances, this would have been something he would have loved to do. He loved the Voyager, and he knew every bit of her. He would have gladly given a tour to anyone, and talked their ear off as he went — and of course he'd always wanted to do this for Zelda. He just hadn't imagined it quite like this: with the two of them not having spoken in months and her only here because the Ministry had tasked her to be. With him potentially dying.
Nevermind that. He could just pretend, for a few moments, that this was just about the Voyager. "Come on," he called, heading down the nearest ladderwell and wending his way to the front of the boat, pausing occasionally to see that she was following. By the time he stopped at the forewardmost part of the ship, he felt a little winded, which was unusual — but he had been lying around in his flat doing nothing for a month, so maybe that had something to do with it.
"I'll just walk you through it, alright? I'll tell you what we're passing as we go, and you tell me if we need to stop and investigate anything," he told her. Then he began the tour, leading her through crew berthing rooms, storage lockers, the anchor house, the armory, the galley, the forward cargo hold, the mess hall. Every once in a while that hitch would come in his chest again, but he ignored it — until, suddenly, it caught hold of him and didn't dissipate. It felt like something was pressing his lungs, keeping them from reaching their full capacity — his breath was shallower than it should have been. They'd gone lower on the ship as he'd walked her through it; maybe the air down here was stale, for some reason? Maybe something perishable had been left onboard and he was catching the effects of it?
"Everything alright so far?" he asked Zelda, wondering if she'd noticed anything, or if it was just him.
MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER