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?”

@tidefated

🔫 take a bullet for my muse | JOJI TO ABIGAIL RIP it’s prolly relatively minor but STILL SCARY

{ Nonverbal Starters }

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.

@tidefated

“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.”

“I’m just–” James cuts off, hesitating. “–afraid. Afraid he won’t come back, afraid he /will/. Just afraid.” [ @ abigail in That Verse ]

{ Shit To Say Meme }

Abigail supposed in some ways, the nerves that Mister McGraw could exhibit were quite charming, especially when one considered precisely what he was capable of. She wondered idly if perhaps he had forgotten the core bond between them, how deeply ensnared it was in his fate and that of Mister Hamilton’s, but in the end she supposed it didn’t matter. So long as he allowed his fear to cage him like this, there would be no hope for happy endings.

“You’re Captain Flint – or have you forgotten that part of yourself, holed up here all alone with your fear and your sadness for so long?” Rising to her feet, Abigail paced the small confines of the earthbare kitchen floor, agitation in the flick of her wrist through the air, cutting across all interruption as her other hand found purchase at her hip while she strode along, expounding on her point.

For good or for ill, surrender was not a look that suited this man and she was quite through with bearing witness to it. “It’s been nearly a decade or more – certainly I cannot account for feelings held so dear, let alone the sort which have accumulated the grief and guilt that these carry – but has it not occurred to you in your isolation that maybe the reason he doesn’t come is because he doesn’t know how? Think of it from his perspective for a moment!”

She turned, finally facing him, “While you were out here fighting and waging war on account of his memory, he was toiling day and night, surviving on the hope that you and his wife were happy. But you’re not – you weren’t then and you certainly aren’t now – and the man you became isn’t the one he remembers, anymore than he is the man who you loved all those years ago! Did it ever occur to you that maybe he is just as frightened as you are, and as long as you hide away in this house, pushing him away because he ran from the enormity of it all, neither one of you will ever get to stop being afraid?”

She caught herself then, realizing she had no place in this business and looked away. “You never once struck me as a man who would run from his problems. When I met you, not even the entire force of England could hold you back. Fear was the last thing in this world that could cripple you – to see it doing so now? It’s actually quite horrible.” And was it any wonder that people were worried, because of it?

[theypissedonme @ abigail] ❝ Trust me, I’m a professional. ❞ [ ah yes that good good mild rackham humour ]

{ Shit To Say Meme }

“Mister Jack,” Abigail’s smile was as warm as it was nervous, “I am beginning to wonder if the real reason you’re called Jack has nothing at all to do with your parents and everything to do with how many trades you know!”

@theypissedonme

[thatwasdark @ abigail, don’t trust this spicy faux-cheerful bastard] ❝ I hate peeling potatoes with every fiber of my being. ❞

{ Shit To Say Meme }

“How fortunate for you then, Mister Silver, that this does not amount to very many fibres.”

@thatwasdark

“I’m always home.” [ said with dry amusement to abigail in That Verse when she asked when/if he’d be home for whatever reason kdjfndjfng (probably so she knew when to visit or some shit) ]

{ Little Dark Age }

“Well then Mister McGraw, we shall have to change that, won’t we?” Abigail was not deterred by his sad response, so much as made all the more determined. “I shall come calling more frequently, and you and I can enjoy some walks together – it’ll do you good to get out of the house more often, and I really would appreciate the escort. Nassau is lovely, but it can be a bit frightening sometimes.”

‘ you don’t have to be on your own. ’ [ @ abigail, hi dottir, your very sad friend is here ]

She heard the crunch of his boots over the rocks that lead into the shore well before he was near enough to speak. The wind was tugging at her skirts, playing its way through her carefully pulled back hair in an effort to unravel her work and leave evidence of her visit to where the waves crashed at their loudest against the island, where the boats could not make berth and thus, where she was safest from invasion.

Her arms held her legs, less for warmth than to keep the wind from whipping her about too much, and despite the coming storm she found herself quite at ease. When his voice filtered down to her, she leaned back, craning her neck to look up at him as she replied easily, “Neither do you.”

Today held meaning for her – but she knew where she had lost a father and a foundation of trust, he had discovered betrayal, and in that betrayal, had lost a friend. The anniversary of Charlestown was bittersweet – she was glad that Mister Hamilton was alive, and that he and Miss Barlow and Mister McGraw were working through what that all meant – but for her there were no reunions for which to hope for.

And in truth – she didn’t want any. She was quite happy with the life she had made for herself in Nassau. There were times though, like these, when it felt right to acknowledge the shadows inherent in how she had come to be part of the story here.

Reaching up, she offered him her hand. She didn’t know if any part of him mourned for Peter Ashe, after all he had done – but she did know he was her friend, and for whatever reason, he had come to see if she was alright today. “I’m going to watch the storm come in,” She informed him simply, “You’re welcome to join me, if you want.”

“I will not hide the truth from you.” [ @ Abigail ;; ]

{ The Tudors }

“I know,” There is no doubt in her tone as she holds her arm out to him expectantly, “It’s why I came to you about this, Mister McGraw. While I’m sure Mister Hamilton would tell me – I admit that I’ve got some questions only you can answer, where my father’s concerned. And I think it might be best if we didn’t trouble Mister Hamilton with such things in any case – we all have our good and our bad days, but I think he struggles a bit more than most with the other ones.”

[theypissedonme @ Abigail, time to Snark Dryly About Her Customers ] “I am more convinced than ever that he is the agent of Satan.”

{ The Tudors }

“Mister Jack!” Abigail laughed before she could quite catch herself, finding his mild mannered certainty on the subject utterly entertaining, “That’s hardly a kind thing to say,” She turned, so that nobody would see her lips in the main hall as she assured, “I’m certain Satan can hire better than that!”

@theypissedonme