[ @ Abigail ] ‘I once had an understanding that everything would go my way. That I could–bend the world to my will, were I determined enough.’

{ Human Contradiction Starters }

Abigail could not help but marvel at how similar captain Flint could be to her father sometimes. In moments like these – when he spoke of shaping the world – she could not think of him as Mister McGraw, let alone as simply James. There was a softness to the former – a sadness that had no desire to change the world, so much as a wish to know how to live in it with all the pieces that were missing.

While the latter seemed to be her friend more often than not, a man who was both sad and angry – who was the core of both Flint and McGraw – there was something in the tone today that seemed as though the scales were tipped closer to Flint, than to the man she had come to consider herself close to. 

“Even if you could have – nothing bends itself out of shape like that for too long. The pressure is too immense, when the changes are so drastic. Eventually the world would be bound to snap itself back into place – likely flinging you out of it in the process,” She mused, thinking of a tree branch pulled back too far, or a bowstring held too tightly – the swiftness with which those things realigned themselves, and the way in which dewdrops and arrows were flung far afield in the wake of it. 

Shuffling her feet so they were better tucked under her dress, Abigail wrapped her arms around her legs and plopped her head on her chin. It was cold in the interior tonight, but quieter in his home than the one she’d been staying at. That had been part of the reason for her visit today, though she’d stayed because he seemed to be in odd spirits. Now, it was too dark for her to head back alone, and she had a feeling it would be better for him to have her stay tonight, if only so when he woke up, he would find another presence and his loneliness would not be able to drown him so.

“I for one am glad that you let go before that could happen. Though I suppose that’s selfish of me, in it’s own way.” He was a dear friend, but she understood that some part of him wished he had kept fighting, if only because to him, battle hurt less than being without the people he wanted most to have beside him.