{ Black Sails Starters } 

“You speak as though you left me any choice but this life I am now bound to,” Abigail’s soft tones had died in the same fires that stole away all she had ever known. The words were clipped as they were cold, leaving no doubt that whatever strength she had found had not come from kind places. 

Tapping her fingers idly against the table, her gaze finally lifted to meet his, unafraid and calm in a den of pirates when not so long ago, the mere sight of an ill dressed man could have filled her entire being with terror. “I suppose I could have died – that certainly would have been a cleaner end to the Charlestown chapter of your career, I am sure.” 

Soft lips curved into a smile that held the echoes of her past life – falsely pretty, an expression meant to placate older gentlemen when her words were too rash, reminding them she was little more than a silly girl who knew nothing of what she spoke of. Yet there was something sharp and brittle in the corners of her lips, as if poison welled in the corners and lay in wait for the prime opportunity to strike. 

“My refusal to perish could be strength – or it could simply be stubbornness. My father was a notoriously stubborn man,” The tapping stopped, and she did not yield in that moment, nor did she shy away from bringing up her father to this man in particular. If anything, it seemed a bald faced challenge – a test, though of what only she could tell. “So I imagine I would come by it honestly, if that were the case.”

She leaned back, surveying the room behind him, the sounds of men as they ate and drank, enjoying their time ashore, providing ample ambiance to what could have been a volatile conversation. Yet her body language was at ease, as if whatever she and Flint were discussing happened to be as light as the laughter rising from a nearby gambling table, or the disjointed singing at the bar courtesy of several sailors having enjoyed a bit too much of their gold in rum. 

“Personally I don’t attribute my return here to strength, Mr. Flint, so much as opportunity. Considering the reputation I now carry, honest work in my field is rather difficult to come by – at least in any lasting sense. All it would take is one fool to recognize me, and I’d be back to the gallows.” She wondered if he even knew what they said about her, or if she had been as unremarkable to him as every other innocent who had suffered his wrath that day. In the end she supposed it didn’t matter. His remorse or lack thereof would change nothing. “It seemed to me the wisest course to take. If I am to live my life this way I might as well come to the place that started it all and make them pay for it.” 

Here, she laughed, as if only just realizing the other meaning those words could carry. “In gold, of course. I still have to eat, after all, and I find there’s little profit to be made in vengeance. I can’t remember who taught me that, but I do recall it to be a rather unforgettable lesson.” Her expression held no innocence – there was no question where she picked up that particular bit of wisdom, after all.