To say he had not expected this outburst would have been an understatement. Thomas’ temper was not new to him, exactly–he’d seen the man rant and flail and seethe before, as captivating in his anger as in all else–but James had never before felt as though that anger was directed at him. He found it an unpleasant experience, to say the least- but knowing himself to be undeserving of such an outburst, there was no trace of guilt or retreat. James’ hands tightened behind his back, jaw set as he lifted his chin a little, staring frostily back at his lover.
He would have to ask Miranda, when he saw her, what situations like this required: if there were ways to ease Thomas’ temper short of simply leaving the room to avoid it. James debated on dismissing himself there and then- a few months prior, he would not have dared, but he was no longer just a lieutenant in this house.
Thomas, however, relented. James tilted his head slightly at that, his expression carefully contained (though his eyes were still hard), and gave a curt, understanding nod. As much as he adored Thomas–so fiercely it scared him, at times–he could not deny that in his irritation, he wanted Miranda’s company far more at the moment, and he suspected she’d be glad for the company.
“Certainly, my lord,” James replied coolly. The title had most certainly not been one of the usual slip-ups: not with James looking like it cost him something to keep from saying something far more scathing, even in the wake of Thomas’ apology. He stepped back, starting to turn away–then paused, like he was considering something.
“So that you and I are clear,” he said, turning slowly back to him. “You are forgiven. But I want it known that as your partner, that is absolutely not something I’ll allow you to subject me to on a regular basis.”
It was in truth for the best that James did not relent or flinch in the wake of Thomas’ anger – there were many things he could tolerate when he reached this point, but to be feared or worse, managed at such times only served to fire him higher. In the case of the former, there was a vicious and cruel desire to give that fear a reason for being there – and in the case of the latter, the idea of silencing himself for the comfort of another in his own home when he was so fettered as it was outside of it only ensured he would become louder in sheer rebellion.
To face him, unaffected and coolly uninterested in the matter as a whole – that, at least, Thomas could respond to. It was familiar and something he knew how to be himself in front of no matter what he was feeling at any given moment. It was so much like home that it registered only as someone is in the room as opposed to a cause for offense or frustration.
What did catch his attention was the deliberate use of his title as punishment. He straightened, startled enough that he forgot his anger for a split second to be genuinely thrilled by that unexpected bit of training on James’ end. It was effective – not only did it catch his attention, it ensured that Thomas knew his lover was quite displeased with him, without devolving the scene into an argument.
If he weren’t wholly aware of what he would be taking care of the moment James left the house, he might have been completely tamed by that act alone, and the desire to swiftly ensure that things between himself and James were alright. As it was, the envelope in his hand and James’ reprimand were both insurance enough against the idea, and he inclined his head in an abashed manner.
“Of course,” He agreed, knowing full well the demand was reasonable and seeing no reason to debate it. Nor to excuse himself further, when forgiveness had already been offered. “I will send for you when I return.” In future, Thomas knew he would need to dismiss himself from wife and sweetheart both, and hope that would be enough to maintain them all when Hell came rising once again to his door.
“I don’t like to talk about it.” Theodore tended not to get angry – there were men who had known him for an entire decade who if asked the very same question about him, would be hard pressed to provide an answer. Much like undead pirates, the temper of Theodore Groves was a rather fantastical thing that very few would believe existed at all.
In truth, Theodore’s anger tended to show itself in small and subtle fashions – often shockingly passive in nature for a man who could be so bold in all other aspects of his life. This is due to several factors.
The first of course being that Theodore is incredibly difficult to anger to begin with. He has no sense of patriotism whatsoever, and nationalism has also failed to cleave to him – so many of the insults and insinuations that could rile another officer are more often than not, water off the duck’s back. He is not goaded – he attacks only when he is ordered to do so – battle is, after all, a necessary evil to a life of adventure.
Threats to him get very little response, and threats to his family result in the logical and mild reminder that there is no benefit to threatening them. His family is poor and his own inclinations make him an inadequate and unlikely candidate for captaincy – meaning it is very unlikely he will ever hold much value to the admiralty. Attacking the Groves nets nothing but a good deal of effort for no true payoff.
Threats to his friends net you a very fond good luck as they are all rather better at fighting than he is, and he has never once chosen a lover without some capacity for self defense. So attempting to yield a response out of him through interpersonal blackmail is – more often than not – a disappointing venture.
Theodore is not involved with politics. He has no ambitions beyond “adventure” he has nothing that can be wielded against him that will force him to act in any way he is not comfortable with – and as an inherently hedonistic individual that is quite terrifying in and of itself. He tends to respond to criticism with gratitude, and more often than not when he is confronted on his choices he opts to learn and carry forth without any fuss. ( And as someone once wisely noted, this Forward Thinking / “Well I learned! Won’t do that again” attitude of Theodore’s is not healthy, because it actually avoids addressing having been hurt at all. )
Which means that Theodore’s anger stems from something else entirely, when it does deign to draw itself forward. Because for as unhealthy as his look forward mentality can be, he does not forget the lessons he learned. And there are times when people cross lines – when people do things he knows are unacceptable – and if he weren’t himself they would never dare.
Theodore knows when he is being taken advantage of, when his kindness is being exploited, and when his ability to mitigate situations have shifted from a skillset to a necessity for survival.
In all of these scenarios, Theodore is likely to be angry in ways he feels impotent to express. How does one express vexation over people taking advantage of a good nature that has no intentions of darkening just so they cannot? How does one say how dare you when it is so out of character to do so?
In truth, Theodore doesn’t know how to express his anger in these moments because he is so rarely truly hurt enough to be angry. But there are ways to tell.
When he begins agreeing with everything you say, and ( to quote a comedian ) essentially makes you the King of Right and he is just over here, the Czar of Wrong – you’ve entered dangerous territory. This is not to be mistaken with him conceding a point and agreeing to learn from it – there is a difference between him agreeing that his perspective needed shifting, and him saying you’re right, of course, I have no idea what I was thinking – Yes, of course, I am quite ignorant on the topic – Naturally, you know better than I. This is generally a sign you have, some fucking how, managed to offend him and he can no longer be bothered to grant you sound advice or insights into his thoughts.
When he seems very determined to ‘give you space’ – or alternatively, just leaves you alone without explanation frequently, this is a sign that he is feeling taken advantage of, and is his most frequent signal that he does not appreciate it. This is especially notable when he feels as though someone is using him as their anger outlet / their excuse to emote a bad day on someone who will not retaliate for it.
When he refuses to touch you. He is a tactile person – he touches the people he likes. When Theodore withdraws that entirely, you have not only made him angry, you may well have hurt him in some manner he cannot express.
When the small things Theodore does every day to make your life easier suddenly stop, you’ve fucked up somewhere.
“That depends,” Her tone is soft as ever, though there is a slight lilt within that indicates laughter may well be bubbling within her, “Do pirates count?” Certainly, the friends she kept now would be seen as exotic or at the very least unusual to the more daring in her past – but to most, they would be terrifying and strange, much like she imagined a wild animal upon whom someone set a collar would be. “If they do then I suppose the answer is yes – though I no more keep them than they do me. As for animals – well, I’d really rather not. They belong in their homes, not mine.”
The breath seems to huff out of him as though Flint had just slammed his fist directly into his stomach. Perhaps it might have been kinder if the man had, rather than come forth with the worst sort of inquisition imaginable. It was – his own fault, really. In the wake of what he had learned of the other man, he had offered a glimpse of his own past in exchange – mentioning only that he had sons ashore, and that due to similar circumstances he would never know them as men.
Now, to be faced with a memory he had not confronted in a very long time, he wondered why in the nine hells he had seen fit to offer this in exchange as opposed to something a little less gutting.
“Imagine if you’d been able to say goodbye to your Thomas,” The response is low, the only way he can conceal the fact he’s still raw from this, “And hold him, knowing it is the last time. Knowing you will never, ever see him again. But then imagine that he has absolutely no idea of that fact. And then do it twice.” Hal huffed, smiling grimly, “And you could say it was a bit like that.”
He took a steadying breath, leaning back as he cleared the air with the remark, “My course was set for an uncharted sea the moment I let them go. I knew that, with those farewells, I was leaving behind everything I was – with no idea what I was meant to become in its wake. But that was not nearly as terrifying as knowing from that point on, I’d never hear them laugh again, and they’d never know why. That eventually, inevitably, they’d forget me.” His smile was wry now, and he shrugged. “We make our own hells, I suppose.”
For the most fleeting of moments, he wondered if somehow Flint knew. There was no fucking way for that to be possible – but the man had a way of getting the world to revolve around him that it was only too easy to imagine the truth coming to him in a dream or some other bullshit.
Glancing off, he feigned a thoughtfulness he didn’t actually feel as he responded frankly, “It’s my name. Am I supposed to feel something particular about it?” He had no more chose this one than he had any other – but arguably, it was the name under which he had made the most decisions without direction or command from anyone else.
There were days when he hated this life even more than the last one, but what good was there in getting pissed about it? Things were what they were – either he adapted to meet them, or he perished in the wake of the challenge. There was nothing to consider here.
“John Silver is me. If you’re asking what I think of myself, I think we both know I am my one truest and most loyal supporter. Beyond that, what else is there?”
In the lieutenant’s defense, Thomas had been quite adamant on familiarity and the abject abolishment of propriety in the household. He had not necessarily declared any topic taboo – and indeed, encouraged controversial discussion for the sake of engaging in more scintillating discourse. Although, none of those topics were quite so personal in nature.
What did he remember? Astonishing, how swiftly the world could bury people when powerful men set their mind to erasing the idea that they ever existed at all. When it became prudent to pretend they had never been vital to one’s image or favored above the others for the very same ambitions which ultimately destroyed them.
He remembered how small David had seemed in his impeccable uniform, how proudly he had polished every button and how certain he had been that he could make a name for himself that would stand apart from the Hamilton family politics. He recalled, too readily, the letters which had detailed in a script too cramped and quick to be speaking truths an air of optimism, confidence and quiet resolve.
Worse still, he remembered the bruises and the cuts, the pains his brother worked so desperately to conceal behind a dutiful smile and the repeated assurance that it was all part of the training. How dearly he had wished to rise to his brother’s defense then – but of course, their father was so proud, and could no more see the damage being born than he could the possibility that David was not the most ideal of his children.
He remembered hating David for that.
“My brother – was a singularly focused person,” The statement is delicate as it is vague – neither praising nor condemning him in any particular fashion. Diplomacy at it’s finest, to say as much as one could without saying anything at all. “I cannot recall a time in which he wasn’t driven to some sort of action. Parliament did not suit him.” There was a thin, self-deprecating smile at this – for as the eldest, such affairs were his to inherit, and thus the greater scrutiny of their father was his to bear.
David had a perfectionist nature – even as a boy, he was disciplined beyond Thomas’ comprehension, and had a means of gleaning their father’s praise as if it were easy. When he decided to join the navy Thomas had been relieved, certain that with his brother out of sight, their father would grow to appreciate more the efforts Thomas put forth. That it was not to be should not have surprised him.
That their father could turn so dramatically in his opinion – without evidence or trial, with greater concern and alarm for appearances than the threat of David’s demise, Thomas had learned a valuable lesson. Alfred Hamilton’s approval would always be conditional upon one’s capacity to be useful to his image – the moment one became a taint upon that carefully constructed persona, their value diminished rapidly and, as in the case of David, could render them so low that destroying them utterly and making all the whispers disappear took precedence over understanding what really happened.
“Though I suppose it goes without saying that the Navy did not suit him either.” A flat and unfeeling conclusion to what was in fact a wound that festered and rotted within him, sticky sweet in some company and foul with bitterness in others. “I cannot say I remember anything particularly significant about him that is not already public knowledge.” The dismissal of the topic came in the form of an apologetic, urbane smile that was better suited to a courtroom than in the comfort of his own sitting room, but what could be done?
As to the other sibling.
“Anna was – the stuff that poems are born from, the inspiration behind legends and fairytales alike.” Here, the careful grip on his composure slipped, and a hint of mournful wistfulness touched upon his features as surely as it colored his voice. “I never knew a kinder person – to this day, in fact, I would say hers remains the brightest and most forgiving of spirits.” And so it was no wonder, that this world had fucking destroyed her.
Rising to his feet, Thomas turned toward the window, containing the heated fury that rose whenever he thought about the sheer pointlessness of her demise. The ease in which it could have been avoided if only their father had not been so obsessed with ascertaining the family name was above reproach for their association to David. As if he wasn’t theirs, was something that could just be swept aside and forgotten –
“She loved to sing.” A sudden, quiet offering of something personal, something the world didn’t already know. “She had a nightingale, whom she shared her songs with most often. I had thought she would entrust the bird to someone – it had always been so dear to her – but as it turned out, she set it free before she died. The flock on my father’s estate are descended of that particular bird. They return there every year.”
Thomas liked to believe it was to remind the man of his crimes, though he doubted Alfred Hamilton would heed the scoldings of the nightingales any better than he would the grief of his wife or the bitterness of his last remaining child.
Turning back once he regained himself, he raised his brows slightly, “Why do you ask?”
“Depends on whether or not he’s still a loyal man.” That’s delightfully vague, but he’d be lying through his teeth if he acted like there wasn’t some form of interest in Billy that went beyond fucking. He was a damn good pirate – a benefit to any crew, in fact, because of that damn dogged loyalty of his – but if he was still loyal, then absolutely not. Charles wouldn’t trust a Walrus man in his bed if his life depended on it – but a man who has a vested interest in keeping Nassau free, no matter the cost? Worth a smash.
“Who?” Eh, it didn’t matter, really. “I don’t smash strangers – and I especially don’t smash admirals these days. Bit of a mess, all things considered.”
“Oh, I think that would depend on a few factors – but if he seems interested I am hardly going to turn him down. He’s quite the delightful – if sometimes devilish – fellow, and I’ve never been one to turn away from an adventure. I’m quite certain courting Captain Flint would qualify as one of those.”
Ocean Archive 