Tag: lightsailing

“you knew i was coming.” From Anne to Charles !

{ True Confessions Of Charlotte Doyle }

He’d guessed, honestly – but he hadn’t been about to place expectations on Bonny; she was too unpredictable for it. In truth, he was glad she had shown up even if it was just to see him off. Doing this wasn’t something that came light or easy, and it absolutely wasn’t something he could explain to Jack. The man would never get it – but her? 

She had enough of her own demons to know the necessity inherent in killing them once and for all, of that, he held no doubts. 

“You’ll keep things going in my absence.” It’s not a question – he knows she has what it takes to manage affairs alongside Jack – and to keep their mutual friend from asking too many questions, or doing anything stupid of his own. He hesitated a moment, and in the end he wasn’t sure who he was assuring when he stated frankly, “I will be back. Soon. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone, yeah?”

“I hate it when you’re smug.“ from jack to charles !

{ Altered Carbon Starters }

“You absolutely do not,” The counter was immediate as it was amused, “You’d never stick around for a minute if that was true.” Not that he was always smug – he just knew when Jack was griping for the sake of hearing his own voice, and wasn’t above calling it out. 

‘ you don’t have to be on your own. ’ from phil to abigail

{ Don’t Starters }

Abigail continued to stare ahead unseeingly for a time, her only defence against the tears that tracked down her face being to wait them out and refuse to acknowledge them. She did lift her chin a little at the insinuation she was alone – Abigail knew better than to believe she didn’t have at least two shadows. 

There were captains invested in her for various reasons she had yet to wholly discern and, strange as it was considering they were not only pirate captains, but the very same ones which had burned down the fortified town her father had staked his career on building, she trusted them both to make sure she would always be safe on the streets of Nassau – at least, physically. 

She doubted either of them, let alone her shadows, knew what to do with a woman in tears. 

Sighing, she raised her arm and dabbed her face clear with her sleeve before replying quietly, “I’m alright – it’s just a moment of silliness taking over me, that’s all.” To think some part of her missed the familiar constraints of a society that controlled everything about her, even the extent to which she was allowed to breathe. She had so much freedom here sometimes she just didn’t know what to do with herself, let alone such independence!  

Of course it wasn’t like she could really explain that to anyone here. Those who understood the constraints had either been banished from them most cruelly, or had spent their whole lives clawing to escape them. It seemed unkind to expect them to sympathize in any way, and it was easier to simply allow herself to emote somewhere she would not really be bothered. She could bleed it onto pages later, but at least this way, she’d be able to function well with the worst of it cleared from her system. 

“Thank you,” She managed then, remembering her manners as she looked up at Phil. “I didn’t mean to get so distressed – it was kind of you to sit with me.”

“no one ranks for creative genius like a sailor shirking work.” for stephen from william

{ True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle Starters } 

“Is that what we’re calling this?” Stephen retorted, the amusement in his tone as undeniable as the laughter that had been startled out of him after finding the young lad ensconced away in the tremulous boughs of a young ficus citrifolia – no grown man would have been able to settle so easily upon those slender limbs and find security, let alone the

lackadaisical

comfort presently exuded by the young lord. And how he had managed it with one arm! Stephen could not fathom, but creative genius certainly did seem to apply itself to the moment. 

Hardly one to care overly much for the strict runnings of a ship ( no doubt to Jack’s eternal exasperation and deep frustration ) Stephen stepped over and rather than scold the boy, simply set the journal he had wanted to bring him into his hat. It was not the most secure means of delivery, but it would assure the pages their safety should he miss his aim. 

Steadying himself, he leaned back and flung it up for William to catch. “That ought to give you something to do other than nap,” He offered, the smile in his voice undeniable as the crinkle at his eyes. 

‘ don’t talk. save your strength. ’ to abigail from anne !

{ Soft Angst Starters }

Abigail fell silent in her desperate apology, and inclined her head in submission. She had not meant to cause so much trouble – but with Miss Anne and Mister Jack away, she had not known who else to turn to at the time and had been naively certain that the awareness they would be back would spare her any harm for interfering with such rowdy fellows. 

When had she stopped fearing pirates to the point she thought they would hear reason from a girl in a brothel? 

Sighing, she shifted – reaching out to what may arguably be one of the most frightful pirates in all of Nassau – in the hopes that Miss Anne might take pity on her a moment longer, and hold her hand until the medicine for her bruises put her to sleep.

“I’m not afraid,” She promised softly, “Just very sore, in every way.” Her body hurt from being hit, of course, but she was more sore in the emotional sense – she was quite vexed with herself for being so foolish, and even more annoyed with those boorish men! “I’ll – be alright, but – would you stay, for a little while more?”  

‘ you got two choices: let me carry you, or die out here. take your pick. ’ to horatio from bram

{ Hurt Prompts } 

Horatio was silent – not out of any desire to insult his lord Edrington, so much as out of the very intimate awareness that were any sound to pass his lips, it would be only that of a wounded animal. He could not abide by the shame inherent in the amount of pain he was in, the throbbing in his side outmatched by no other injury he had sustained save the one he was deliberately refusing to look at. Even the cuts on his face paled by comparison to the drumming of his heart with every breath that forced his damaged side to shift in the wake of his damnable lungs. 

He would not think about his leg.

Swallowing heavily, Horatio acknowledged that he had no wish to die here, and dipped his head in submission. Grimly, he reached for the man and hated the awareness that any blood he got upon that pristine uniform would cost him more than he could afford in a year, but as Lord Edrington had already surmised – he had no choice, lest he consider his life worth less than an incurred debt to a man he had no means of properly repaying. 

With the other man’s support, he almost got his legs under him, but it seemed there could be no ignoring the damage done now, for as soon as the slightest pressure fell to it Horatio damn near pulled the major down with him when he stumbled forward in a pain filled haze, admittedly catching himself only by pushing with his good leg and all but thrusting himself into the lord’s chest for balance. Leaning against the man, Horatio fought for breath, and began contemplating if living with the memory of this would be worth surviving it. 

fmk 4 horatio: styles, matthews, and bunting kadlkfjad;klajdf

{ FMK Meme }

“What is the matter with you?” Matthews and Styles were the closest thing he had to parents and friends, this was absolutely inappropriate. And Bunting was dead, and even if he wasn’t Horatio didn’t wish him to be any more than he wanted to sleep with him or spend his life with him. 

FMK invalidated due to strong parental roles and a ferocious inability to cross that line.

❝ Pick up your sword. ❞ from hudson to theodore ?? i’m thinking maybe during hud’s impressment?

{ Galavant Starters } 

“To what good end would that bring us, mm?” Theodore inquired, not particularly bothered by the young man’s insubordinate behaviour. “Imagine your best case scenario – do you really think wounding an officer of His Majesty’s Navy is going to warrant you anything better than a short drop and a sudden stop? You are better off focusing that rage on something you can fight – and live to talk about.” 

The Ghost They Whispered Of

lightsailing‌:

He listened intently as he poured out a cup of tea identical to his own and passed it to Hornblower. With each minute detail dealt between the lines of his words, the more Bram’s interest piqued. Questions ran through his mind like the first drops of rain before a storm. He held his tongue with difficulty, promising himself that all would be revealed in time. 

Bram could not help but let a whisper of a smile cross his lips as Hornblower mentioned his ineptitude in the world of politics. He could hardly blame the man, as he was neither bred nor groomed for it. That much had been nearly painfully apparent at their introductory operation together. Edrington, at the time, had brushed it off, for there would, most likely never be an account in which Hornblower was required to take up such a mantle. ( Though, as the sailor was proving at that very moment, one could never truly know a person, including their strengths and weaknesses. )

The great weight that Hornblower had placed on his tale and, therefore, the weight he placed upon Edrington’s advice made him feel legally uneasy. The smirk slipped slowly from his face and his lips straightened with thought. He felt as if he ought to have prepared a contract for this disclosure of such a sensitive topic. Or, at the very least, directed him to a professional lawyer. Edrington asked himself if whatever consequences could be born of this very conversation would be worth the price of Hornblower’s tale. His curiosity won out.

“I still hold you in the highest regard, Mister Hornblower, and so I will do what I can for you, advise you in the best way I see fit. However,” his tone darkened, “before I let you go on, I must say this: you know as well as I do that the greater good must be observed; I will use my best discretion. Do you understand?” Lord Edrington dictated clearly, holding Hornblower’s gaze. 

Horatio found hope in that unexpected smile – finding himself seeking out memories of marches long past, from a time when he had belonged in this era of cold clarity and certain logic. The lobsters in their red coats, spilling out over the beach of Quiberon Bay as the dishevelled French royalists made forth with an attempt to restore their monarchy. 

Leading a charge up through the south of Brittany and into the country proper – a mission doomed well before the ships had ever left the harbor. Horatio felt a quiet sense of displeasure as he recalled the admiralty’s demands upon Pellew to deliver them to a place no man of Britain had ever truly known welcome, least of all one of a military persuasion, all whilst knowing full well the chances of success had been all but nullified. 

Still it was curious, how far away those memories had begun to seem. Years had passed since he had last reflected on those particular ones, though his mind did conjure up the sound of a guillotine to play chorus to his nightmares. For the most part thoughts of that miserable posting had not been consciously sought. Though he had considered the Earl of Edrington in the refined nature of other men – historical figures, in this time – it occured to Horatio now that he never saw the man on a smiling face.

He had known the man’s smile – a shockingly bright thing, and teasing in its lopsided nature – drawn out under misconception, and striking for the reminder of the man’s youthfulness brought to the fore by something so natural, propriety could not wholly steal it away. His memory had kept that unique to the man, though why, he could not entirely fathom. 

The fading of that smile was what drew Horatio out of the past – both distant in memory and dangerously close to the fore – as it was indicative to him that business was at hand now, and he could only hope he had impressed enough importance upon his tale and what it entailed that he could trust the lord before him as he promised to do. 

And so, when it was made clear to him that the major thought well enough of him to grant him this audience and assist in what ways that he could – but that the greater good would be attended to, regardless of what that might mean for Horatio ( for he could read between the lines well enough to discern that meaning ) he relaxed internally with the registration that he would be taken with proper seriousness. 

“I understand you completely, my lord,” Horatio assured, tone at once respectful and steady in his certainty that he had made the right choice. There was a cold dread in him for the possibility of this going horrendously wrong – it would be within Edrington’s rights to arrest him, if not hang him personally – but he wished to believe the man to be more logical than that. He remembered Muzillac well enough to believe this was not a man who would operate on his emotions before the good of England – regardless of his personal feelings toward witchcraft, the threat Napoleon promised was too great to ignore on account of them.  

Still, he was quiet a time – debating how best to begin – before finally settling with the very start of it. “The strangest first, then – and the threat at the last, along with the proof of my claims.” He offered, letting the major know there was a tale ahead, and that it needed to be said for the danger to be wholly understood. 

“As I imagine to be rather clear from my visage, time has been most queer with me,” Horatio began flatly – well aware that his decade gone showed well upon his features. The length of his hair notwithstanding, there were lines no man of his prior youth would bear, and certainly not gain in the short months he had been missing in. They were particularly notable about the eyes and the edge of his lips where his own smiles hid themselves with craft and care. “In short, what took me from the Indefatigable – what dragged me from my men – was witchcraft of a most impressive and terrible sort.” 

He knew it was a terrible accusation, and a wild claim to make. He also knew that there was no way those who witnessed his abduction had not spoken of it to any ear that would listen. Rather than wait to be interrupted, Horatio forged on, tone sharpening. “I found myself awake in the Caribbean. Which was frankly impossible considering we were in bloody Gibraltar at the time, but I swear to you – that is not the frightening part. Rather, it was what I came to discover some months after washing ashore and escaping the woman who found me. I was displaced entirely out of time – 1714, to be precise, and through to 1724 when at last matters aligned to return me to my proper place. What proof I have of that is not nearly so important as the proof I have of how I returned.”

Here, Horatio withdrew from his belt a simple ring, upon which was a most familiar insignia. Setting it into his palm, Horatio’s tone darkened. “Bonaparte has located something England is not prepared to fight against. Worse, he means to utilize it to waken things best left where they were hidden over fifty years ago.” 

The ring glowed then, a deep and foreboding blue, and the sound of waves could be heard. Horatio’s expression was stern. “This ring can cast but one spell – but what he brought back can cast very many more, and there is no way that I know of that can prepare the men to face up against magic. I don’t even know where to start, but I can say this. I know this is not enough to make clear precisely how much danger we are in. What can, I will need open space to demonstrate.”