love is not // joining // what revolution's for

[clarence a.]

[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: times new roman;"]Now there were talking animals. His breathing grew even more ragged and he paced anxiously, barely able to even look at the two strangers that had arrived. They were speaking as though they were humans and he understood every word of it. "I've gone mad. I fell in that water and I went mad and they fished me out and put me in an asylum and now I see talking animals, lovely, this is all lovely-" His words weren't directed to either of the men that had arrived and seemed more meant to vent his own thoughts than anything else. After all, how could he even know if these beings were real? What was the point in discussing such things with hallucinations? "That or I've died and gone to some abhorrent corner of Hell to suffer for my sins, although I didn't think they were so egregious to bring about such insanity-" The words were rushed and, at times, barely comprehensible. He looked back towards the two that had appeared, confusion and pain and terror all vulnerably displayed on his features. It was unlike him to be so open and emotional but how else was he meant to respond? And should he respond to these beings? He supposed he had nothing else to do so he may as well delve deeper into whatever abominations his mind had created for him. Better to be mad in one world than in two.

"The British Royal Navy is in active combat with the American Navy at Lake Erie. We hadn't expected such formidable push back and things went horribly wrong. I was trying to reach Lieutenant Finnis when I was shot and pushed overboard." Somehow explaining the facts calmed him, as though it put the event somewhere in the past, as though he hadn't been there only moments ago. "I thought I was dead but then I woke up... here. With talking animals and not a bullet wound, not wet, not anything-" More panic and anger seized his tone. He was being told to just breathe but how could he do that when he knew his crew was out there, somewhere, dying without any kind of doctor on board? Then there was the fact the man had referred to him as 'hun', which felt... well, at least mildly uncomfortable. He wasn't entirely sure what it meant, actually, but it certainly didn't seem like something he'd call anyone other than a possible future wife. That wasn't the point. Probably just a distraction by his obviously diseased mind. "I-I don't know. Even if I were able to contact reinforcements, it's far too late to save the Queen Charlotte or Detroit. I'm not even sure what I would be met with if I tried to return home or if I'd be blamed of cowardice for coming up missing during the worst fight of my time in service-" His mind was still reeling but he was slowly piecing himself back together. He wasn't sure if what was happening was real, but he still needed to work through whatever had just happened.