❝ do you really think that? ❞ [ @ silver ! ]

When Jandro had seen the ship enter the harbor, some part of him had quailed away, seeking retreat he knew better than to chase. Gripping his crutch, he made his way to the guards on site and informed them of his history with this crew – in short form, but with enough detail to show he was capable of managing them but would prefer to have the House of Silver keep a weather eye on the lot, particularly the captain.

He had gone with the committee then, tending to matters with brisk and efficient professionalism. He showed little favor despite the familiarity he held with these men, and inspected the Walrus thoroughly. There had been a few men he hadn’t recognized, which was understandable all things considered. They were marked down, and Chava had hummed at Hamilton, Thomas in a way that indicated the name bore significance that would be discussed later.

While the crew was presently being cleared and tagged, he had some time to speak to Flint in private – informing him without preamble that he would not be causing trouble in Lamara, and as soon as the Walrus was repaired, she and her crew would be leaving.

The response did not bode well.

“If your intention is to stay,” He could not withhold his doubt on this, “Then you will go through the same processes as everyone else – there are no rooms in Lamara for idle hands, nor any interest in men whose agendas do not align appropriately. If you think to radicalize this place, you have come to the wrong island, hombre.”

‘every word you’re saying is a lie.’ [ @ silver >:/ ]

{ The Unforgivable Starters }

Silver affected a quizzical look, as if he had absolutely no idea what on earth Flint could be on about. He held it for a good thirty seconds before he could feel his fucking moustache quivering against the effort to keep a straight face, and he was done in. His teeth flashed in an unrepentant grin even as he asked, “Alright, who told you?”

Someone must have clued Flint in to the fact the ‘insults’ he had been learning were in fact compliments, which of course when stated angrily had the hilarious effect of confusing the shit out of whoever they directed at – which hopefully would mitigate some of the damage of Flint’s rather combative personality in some cases. Now that he was on to it though, it would hardly be as entertaining.

“I don’t have anyone but you.” [ @ silver g-D FLINT DON’T TELL HIM THAT SHIT ]

Now this was a curious tack to take – though it did not take much to figure out the angle that was being played. Flint’s status with the men had been on shaky ground well before Silver had even found himself dragged into their devastating orbit. Painting himself vulnerable like this was only a means to an end – a manipulation of sentiment.

At some point, the power here had shifted – the men adhered to Silver and Flint was smart enough to recognize that as much as he despised them all, he needed them to achieve his goals. Which meant he needed Silver on his side – and wasn’t that a queer thing to consider? To think this had all started over information he’d taken from a dead cook.

“And who is to fault for that, I wonder?” There had been people loyal to Flint and his ideas – and Silver had not forgotten their fates. Nor was he oblivious to the fates that still hung in the balance. Some already lost to whatever twisted end was left for them after following in Flint’s shadow – and others, still waiting on the front lines, their stories now resting on the balance of this conversation.

“While I do wonder what has you so convinced you ever had me,” His tone was clipped and unyielding despite Flint’s ploy for sympathy, “I am far more interested in how you intend to convince me not to walk away from all of this.”

‘ you did the best you could. ’ [ @ silver! ]

{ House Of Broken Angels }

“Clearly I didn’t,” The words were spat out before he could think, “Or this – none of this – would be a fucking issue right now.” If he had done his best he wouldn’t have gotten sucked in on the mad scheme to begin with. He didn’t even know why he was telling Flint all of this, when the best he could hope for was the man getting incensed enough to storm back to the Walrus and demand his fucking job back – rendering Silver useless in the process, no doubt.

There was nothing to gain in revealing failures to this man – but at the same time he honestly couldn’t tell any longer if the crew was so much to lose. They were hardly good men – not that Silver himself could boast any better now – and as it stood the only real value they offered was in the value they gave to Silver, which was a terrible thing he always had to fight and lie and cheat and steal to maintain. It was that, or pity, and that was not a medicine he intended to swallow any time soon.

“I see two paths before me,” He shifted, managing to contain a grimace as the ache in his leg spiked all the way to his hip with the motion, going quiet a moment as he forced himself to breathe through it – making it look like it was for effect rather than adjustment to the searing light in his fucking skull. “Either I lie, and claim repairs for the ship under the wing and prayer of hope that nobody questions why we were in a position to be hounded by 24-pounders in the first place – or, I wash my hands of all this and play the same card as you. And right now that latter idea is looking mighty appealing.”

The Walrus maintained itself in Nassau under the bullshit premise that everyone aboard that ship was now a merchant for ‘His Majesty’ through the ordinance of one Woodes Rogers. So long as that remained true, there was no hard feelings apparently. Of course any act of piracy done by those who now bore those pardons meant hanging without trial, and no pirate ship was packing 24-pound guns anywhere in this area.

Some of mister majesty’s frigates, however….

Silver sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been foolish for any man to think the Walrus capable of taking that damn ship, regardless of the wealth of the prize aboard her he should have deterred the men better, rather than letting the damn quartermaster rile them up. If he’d tried harder in that moment none of them would be in this position now, and some part of him honestly hated how easy and tempting it still was to run off and abandon them all to their twisted fates.

“Or alternatively,” The words seemed to fight their way past the grit of his teeth, his reluctance was so great, “I could do both.”

Windows To The Past

@intolerablexsacrifice continued from [x]

He knew from the expressions both open and repressed that Flint had reached some conclusions – likely correct, and sure to bear questions in their wake. Yet there was nothing the man could do to him now that he could not escape. There was no benefit for Flint now that his reason for piracy had ripped reality out from under him. In truth – in this life Flint had damned himself to – Silver was one of the few things he had left. It granted security in revelation, even one as significant as this and that alone was what had afforded this moment to culminate into what it now was.

Still, he had no desire to give more at this juncture than what was needed to make the hell he was presently subjected to by way of Flint trying to pick his way through Don Quixote end. “Seeing as you seem determined to hack your way into it, I feel I have little choice in the matter unless I wish to be victim to that on a regular basis,” The retort was drawled in such a manner that it was clear he was still shaking off the nonsense he’d just heard, while simultaneously offering no further substance to Flint’s little observation.

💪 – Pick my muse up [ for Silver, yes he knows you don’t like to be helped, just accept this ]

{ Touch Starved Meme }

“Don’t do this,” His voice is pitched low, as much a warning growl as it is a desperate plea for something – perhaps mercy – in spite of the hot, lancing agony gripping his injury so tightly it made what was left of his leg prickle. His thigh felt almost cold, and his hip ached as if it had been punched repeatedly – all of which, stemming from the pressure being placed on sewn and cauterized flesh wrapped in nigh macabre fashion over bone.

It was as deplorable to look at as it was to live with, but at the moment he didn’t give a damn about anything – not the pain, not the visual of it all, not even the fear or the melancholy could distract him from stopping Flint from doing what he was about to. There was little he could do beyond this – and his words fell uselessly upon stubborn ears.

Helpless fury and righteous indignation burned through him hotter than the pain as he found himself hauled up over the man’s shoulder like a fucking sack of grain. Hatred of his situation blinding him for a split second – wild and nauseating enough to consider biting the man’s back for all he was worth. In the end though, he did nothing, his entire form stiff with anger and desperation as he was physically carried off the beach.

He couldn’t say how long they walked. Couldn’t begin to account for the time amid the bitter sensations rolling through him, the bile that he kept having to swallow back – though whether that came from his helplessness to stop this, or the sheer amount of physical pain he was in, it was difficult to tell. All he knew was that eventually, he found himself deposited on a chair, in the now-familiar surroundings of Flint’s home in the interior.

His breathing was labored – pain and fury making it difficult to maintain himself. He had enough shit to deal with now that this fuck had retired without being so disgustingly undermined as to be physically carried from his landing point. While he knew full well the man he’d set as quartermaster could manage matters, Flint had now forcibly reminded those present to witness the goddamn event that Captain Silver was a fucking invalid. Something he generally managed to keep overlooked by never acting like one. And then this – this –

“Bastard,” It’s spat out through gritted teeth, jaw aching from how hard it clenched itself against making any sound that might hint toward the depths of pain he was in right now. “If you want your ship back there’s better ways to get it than pulling shit like that.” He didn’t even want the Walrus, and by God he would be damned before he let Flint turn him into something the men saw as disposable in exchange for her.

It didn’t occur to him this could be about anything else.

☛ – press a finger to my muse’s lips to shut them up [ for silver bc YOU KNOW HOW HE HAS THAT FUCKING HABIT of talking when they absolutely need to not be heard? Y E A H. ]

{ Nonverbal Starters }

There was something so incredibly condescending and belittling about Flint’s manner of silencing him that for a brief, wild moment of fancy, he actually considered biting the man’s finger with force enough to blood him. Were it not for the fact he was aware that silence was to their advantage at the moment, he damn well might have done so just to take a stand against the captain’s ignorant idea he was some kind of pet to be controlled in such a manner.

As it was, he simply raised his brows and played completely innocent. There was no point bearing his teeth here, literally or figuratively. He was even so good as to keep his silence throughout the remainder of the mission – not because he feared Flint or felt he ought to make a good impression, but for no other reason than it benefitted him both to play nice and to follow the plan in its entirety.

When matters were said and done, however, he did ensure to set the record straight, as frankly he had no wish to delude Flint into thinking that he was someone who could be manhandled into subservience. That would only encourage a repeat performance – which was frankly, unacceptable.

“Just so we’re clear,” He leaned a hand against a supporting beam, as much for balance as a display of nonchalance, “I don’t give a fuck what the situation is, you ever put your finger on me like that again I will bite it off.” He still had the location of the Urca, after all – the man couldn’t kill him at this juncture. Maybe he’d pay for this later, but he’d worry about that then. There was no way he was going to spend his time here treated like a fucking dog, regardless of what Flint thought of him.

“/Your/ future is dripping down the drain.” [ for s1-s2 silver! ]

{ HAMILTON STARTERS }

Because he couldn’t figure that much out on his own, apparently. He was starting to think this entire venture was more mess than it was worth – but as it was he had no choice at this juncture but to play nice. He was on a ship in the middle of the fucking ocean and the only thing keeping him alive was the information inside his head. There might be something else he could bargain, but the very idea made his skin crawl – which left the lesser of two devils, in the form of playing nice with a monster of a man.

One thing that was refreshing about Flint was that he didn’t conceal his monstrosity, or pretend it wasn’t a part of him. He didn’t fuck around – when he was pissed, there was no game to figure out. Blunt instruments like this were easier to work with than the kind of men he was used to maneuvering, so there was that at least.

“Alright – it’s not like we didn’t establish earlier that I’m not, exactly, a cook.” How was he supposed to know you weren’t supposed to use butter as an oil substitute with that particular fish? The fact he even knew butter could serve as a substitute at all was because Randall had shoved it at him last week. “I mean – I should not have been unsupervised.”

He held up his hands placatingly, “On the plus side of all this – I do know how to fish. So I can get more.” Theoretically, anyway.

“You have ruined our lives. You’ve ruined /their/ lives.” [ for s4-ish(?) silver because OF COURSE IT IS ]

{ Hamilton Starters }

“Take that self righteous shit and sell it somewhere else – you and I both know this has nothing to do with their lives. My life holds no meaning to you – and they are nothing more than a means to your ends. The only thing you give a fuck about is your own agenda and the only reason you’re pissed off is because you can’t stand the idea that this – all of this, everything you have done, every monstrous act, every unforgivable deed, every man you trusted and killed – amounts to absolutely nothing if you don’t have a martyr to fight for.”

Shifting his grip on his crutch, it took everything in his power not to carry on – he could feel his fury building to the point that English was slipping from him. Spanish was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a far superior language to lash a man to a crippling degree with, but he had come too far in this game to let even an insult pass in his mother tongue in a heated moment like this one. Swearing in a second language at a time like this said one thing only – that it was the first – and even that was too much information to impart on this man.

Eventually, he found some measure of calm and continued in a clearer, more clipped tone. He was no longer striking, but he was not relenting, either. “If you want to claim that their lives matter, now is the time to prove it. Drop this fight that cannot be won, and disappear. Live – and by whatever you still hold holy, let them do the same.”

“I know there’s no replacing what we’ve lost.” [ for silver 8I ]

{ HAMILTON STARTERS | Accepting }

“There are men aboard this ship one could reasonably argue have no more intelligence than the average barnacle who could have concluded that much,” The scathing retort fell from his lips before thought toward harnessing his frustration fully rose. “My question isn’t whether or not the fucking obvious has occured to you, it’s what the fuck you plan on doing about it.”