Thanks for joining me!
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton
“Ah, I see. You mean that the gray town with its continual hope of morning (we all must live by hope, must we not?), with its field for indefinate progress, is, in a sense, Heaven, if only we had the eyes to see it? That is a beautiful idea.” -Wellard to Hornblower
That was not in the slightest what he had meant to insinuate with his comment, and frankly his sleepdrunk mind was completely boggled by the amount of optimism Wellard seemed to possess even at this late stage of madness. Far be it from him to cloud it any further than their captain did though. “I suppose it is,” He agreed neutrally.
@oceanset
Cutler’s hands clutched at the crust of bread between them, fingers digging into it as if that might help him keep it. His eyes were wide, and he felt as if he couldn’t speak as he stared at the girl like a caught deer. Theft, he knew, was punishable by death among pirates. He didn’t know if that applied to the brother’s kitchens as well, and he wasn’t sure what horrified him more- that he might die for this, or that he’d been brought so low at all. | Abigail caught him stealing food I guess?
Abigail had been quite startled by the man’s appearance in the kitchens – and from the look of him, he hadn’t been prepared to meet with her, either. She glanced behind her for a moment – keeping an eye on the man in case he tried anything – and determined if need be it wouldn’t be too hard to catch Miss Anne’s attention. A simple shout, and this would be put in hand rather swiftly – but if violence could be avoided –
Turning back, Abigail made her way down toward him, careful to appear nonthreatening. “I’m afraid Mister Jack won’t take too kindly to thievery,” She couldn’t let him think he would be allowed to get away with this frequently after all, “But if you want to give me a hand for an hour or two, I can send you off with a meal and some bread you can take home, and we can keep this little secret between us – that sound alright?”
🔫 take a bullet for my muse | JOJI TO ABIGAIL RIP it’s prolly relatively minor but STILL SCARY
The moment it happened, she remembered only the sound of her own scream as she grabbed on to him, too terrified to register the wound as minor – there was blood blossoming against his shirt, and her mind could not function beyond the need to make it stop.
Thankfully the threat at hand was briskly managed by their friends – had her panic cost more than the damage already laid down before her, it was doubtful she would have ever recovered. As it was, the ship’s surgeon had made it to Joji eventually and Billy had been able to pry her away long enough for the poor man to do his job.
Though she had been assured repeatedly by their mutual friend that all would be well, the thought that she might lose him had shaken her to the very depths of her being. The moment that she was permitted to see him, she’d raced off and been only too quick to press herself in against his good side, her arm wrapping around his waist as though somehow her small form could protect him from all the evils in the world that could harm him.
She was quiet for some time, simply reassuring herself that he was alright by the way he held her, and the warmth that came from him. She knew it was foolish to be angry – but there, amid all the fear and sorrow, was a white hot spark that seemed the only protection she had from the other two.
“Never do that again,” She managed, pressing her forehead in against his neck. “Promise me – please.” She couldn’t lose him – there were days when it felt like he was all she really had that truly made any sort of sense. She’d take a thousand bullets, if it meant she would never have to fear living a day without him in it.
“where else is hope, if not in literature?” [ @ abigail, probably in her Thomas And James Kind Of Adopted Me I Guess verse. ]
{ Classic Starters }
It was not entirely uncommon for her to get lost in her writing to the point she lost track of the conversations around her. Mister McGraw and Mister Hamilton were so often engaged in the most delightful philosophical debates that she had learned to write to the sound of their voices without being drawn into conversation.
Like a comfortable and reassuring sound, as warm as rain upon the window as the fire crackled in the grate, their words could circle round her as she penned down her demons and let angels take flight where the need seemed at its most dire. Every now and then though, they would say something silly – or pose a question that was phrased in such a way she knew herself to be included in the inquiry.
Mister McGraw’s voice had pitched differently, causing her to tune in automatically – unconsciously recognizing he meant for her to pay attention – though the question itself didn’t warrant much need to stir. Mister Hamilton might have been about to say something – as she didn’t look up from her work, Abigail had no notion of it.
“Inside everyone, of course,” There was no doubt or concern in her answer, offered as it was with all the simplicity of a known fact. “That is where it’s born, after all. Inside the hearts of everyone, whether they can read or not – it’s bigger than literature Mister McGraw – hope isn’t something that belongs only to the educated.”
So we have taken a look at the Hamiltons from a people perspective, now its time to talk about the animals because frankly speaking Thomas adores animals and being a lord he had every excuse available to own a fair few, though his primary ones were hunting and convenience.
Thomas owned three to five horses at any given time, though when he knew James McGraw he had three on his main estate and two on another. The mares were Persinna and Chariclea, the geldings Theagenes and Hydaspes and the stallion being Calasiris.
The significance of these names lies in the fact that they are all characters in the same Hellenistic romance novel where one of the primary obstacles between the main protagonists included pirates. Interestingly, the male protagonist and the father of the heroine have been set as geldings, whilst the man who aided both protagonist and heroine is set as the stallion – Thomas’ very quiet and personal way of telling a complicated political joke that ultimately amounts to doing what you believe in is the only true way to keep your big dick energy.
Though Thomas had many cats to manage rats and mice on the estate and they all had names because he’s just like that, there were only two that were considered more like pets than working animals. They were decorated with beautiful collars and spoiled rotten. Pure white and almost identical in sheer volume of fur, Andromeda and Perseus were gifts from Thomas’ mother and both have their own romance story, while also being briefly featured throughout the one that names his horses, because Thomas is nothing if not dedicated to being Very Extra.
His prize hunting hounds were Orpheus and Eurydice, though he had three others, those were the only two that James was likely to interact with. He also had a goshawk named Hamlet, whom he would often hold while reciting nonsense because in a fit of absolute boredom, he trained the bird to respond to certain lines for dramatic effect, solely to be That Guy.
“This might as well happen.” [ @ t.ham bc this line wasn’t on the list so i’m morally obligated to write it myself ]
“James – “ Thomas was very near to the verge of laughter, and he knew his dear lieutenant would not appreciate that, especially in light of his current – position. “How did this even happen?” He wondered, crouching down to take hold of Orpheus’ collar in order to draw the large hunting hound off the man. He didn’t bother
Eurydice – she seemed quite content in her position grooming the man’s hair, and she did have a habit of biting whenever things she had dubbed hers fell under threat.
“ and you had nothing to do with it?” [ @ hume! ]
“I have never been one to wear my politics and policies openly, Mc–Flint,” Graham reminded the other coolly, not particularly ruffled by the man’s accusatory tone or even his threatening mannerisms. He was confident in his awareness that the Scarborough was too valuable for Flint to throw away, no matter how high his temper climbed. “But I have always known whose parlors to avoid – and have taken considerable care to ensure my name was never tied to them.”
Folding his hands together, he leaned forward on the table, meeting the other man’s strange eyes squarely. Unafraid – and just as unyielding. “Contrary to your belief, my role in this was nigh nonexistent, but before you get twisted up over it perhaps you should consider the facts and the family in question. After all – Alfred Hamilton has never before shown an interest in keeping his children alive – so does that not beg the question then, of why Thomas – who posed just as great a threat as William – happened to have so much effort spent on his preservation?”
It certainly was not Alfred’s doing – and it was positively laughable to consider Hennessey might be the one responsible. “My role – such as it was – placed me in direct contention with the admiralty. You know where Hennessey stood on this. So perhaps instead of marking me as your enemy, you may want to sit down and rethink that bloody assessment!”
❛ you have the moral backbone of a sponge cake. ❜ [ @ silver listen chocolate eclaires didnt exist yet i dont think so i had to cHANGE IT ]
It was on the tip of his tongue to remind Flint that he did not know a goddamn thing about him – to point out the glaring chasm between them that was formed of Flint’s own fucking ignorance – but instead he simply responded flatly, “The men don’t give a shit about my backbone, but if they did I think you’d find they enjoy sponge cake to rotten garbage, so what’s your complaint? So long as my morals have aligned with yours, you’ve gotten what you wanted have you not?”
Ocean Archive 