throughout her entire life, she holds herself back from greater ventures ( such as traveling, breaking away from her role as lighthouse keeper, etc. ) in fear of abandoning her responsibilities. likewise, she never marries, and rarely even courts as she has abandonment anxiety, and fears, more than anything else, being left again.
She smiled as he did. Philadelphia took great pride and satisfaction in cracking the calloused exterior the former major had obviously spent so long constructing. If, for no other reason, it provided her with insight into who he once was, sating her social curiosity. At times, she found herself reflected in the man shrouded behind the pariah. At times, she desperately hoped that Monsieur Cotard saw the same, as she vied for his approval.
The earl’s daughter stifled a huff; patience was never her strong suit. In dealings with the bratty “companions” of her class, or the self – proclaimed oligarchs that fathered them, she had a tendency to go for the throat. While such a tactic might work among the battlefield, it did little to assist her reputation. What Cotard suggested was ruthless, in its own way, and Philadelphia appreciated the concept greatly, even if it was simply not her nature. Blackmail, exploitation, and insults veiled by eloquence were her father’s speed, not hers.
Philadelphia uncrossed her legs and, in something like respect, averted her gaze as Cotard shakily placed the cup back on the lipped saucer. Logically, she knew there was no reason to be ashamed for such a malady; he had fought once, and now he was an old man. And yet, even she could identify with the awkwardness one might feel as they witnessed themselves wither and weaken. Monsieur Cotard had long reached apotheosis in her eyes, and so she thought nothing of it.
“Do you believe you are untouchable?” She queried and stirred a cube of sugar into the painted porcelain cup. “Forgive me if I am untoward.”
One of the many endearing qualities of the young miss Edrington, beyond of course her fiery and familiar temperament that so often brought to mind his beloved sister, was the fact of her grace. She never made a show of granting his ailing nature overdue attention or lackthereof, and it was admittedly a relief to be neither fussed over nor condescended against on account of the damages time had wrought upon him.
Upon her question, he was startled into the start of a laugh – managing, toward the end, to catch it mid way and shake his head, “There is nothing to forgive,” He assured, thoroughly amused by the question, but having no wish to discourage her through the perception of his mockery. For in truth, he did not condescend but rather marvel at the idea she proposed.
“I do not believe myself to be worthy of so much effort, ma chère,” He confessed warmly, “My time of relevance in such endeavors has long since passed – for most, I am but a man well past his time who is afforded the courtesies due for his service out of proprietary obligation, but no real feeling. I imagine most tire of me, and will me to die soon if only to clear away the memories of wartime failures faster, but few who might be bothered to hurry along the process.”
Here, he smiled, “The benefit, I think, to old age is that those who once held such power with words and ideas become obsolete enough that they cannot harm their peers. While they can certainly be unkind to the young, few waste time on each other when they believe themselves responsible for shaping a future they shall never see, through their influence over youths. As I embark in very few things in my advanced years, I imagine the only person who might turn against me would perhaps be your very father, considering I am far from the sort of company he would desire for you.”
But that, of course, was an amusement between the two of them, and not a threat Andre feared, when his company clearly brought as much joy to Philadelphia as hers brought to him.
bram’s brow furrowed as he held on to each word that escaped theodore’s lips. he was desperate to commit each sound and nuance to memory, even though he would forever loathe that of which theodore spoke.
it was no surprise to bram that his beloved had romanticised his own death. everything seemed to be a fairytale to him, naught but a game, inconsequential. did he care at all for the hearts of those he would leave behind, no matter the manner of his demise?
the admiralty? he mused, interest piqued. the dying wish thrust bram into copse of even greater confusion. where he had just wondered what would push theodore, a man who fought for the crown, to be a traitor against it, he now wondered for what cause he committed treason for? if his acts of espionage were sanctioned by the crown itself, then what was theodore hiding his actions for? who was he spying on?
it was a damn shame that edrington was, yet again, forced to set aside his emotions for the sake of duty. he wanted to kiss theodore once more, to remember the feeling of warm lips on his own. he wanted to see his smile and the way it infected every bit of the world, making flowers christen and the sun glimmer. in that moment, bram nearly laughed at his own selfishness. grief and love made men cruel. he wept because no longer would he be able to have what theodore once provided.
theodore would pass – whether now or later – and so would bram, in his own time, but britain had the chance to prevail. though bram could only secure theodore’s mortality for a finite amount of time, if there was a way he could help secure britain’s for an eternity, it was his duty to do so.
“i’ll take the letters right back where you took them if you don’t tell me what is significant about them,” he said quickly and prayed to god that theodore would comply.
the footsteps of the soldiers were drawing nearer and nearer and edrington could no longer pretend like he had enough time to get the information he needed and make up his mind on what to do with theodore. the situation was proving to be more complex, more sensitive, than what he previously thought. if the admiralty was truly involved and fashioned their business to be so secret, they could not let a well – reputed major in on it, then surely it was not for any of his lessers to know. defending a spy to the soldiers inbound would be a difficult and damning, albeit necessary, task,
there was, however, another avenue bram could pursue: lying. he could hide theodore away and send his subordinates on a wild goose chase.
it would be hard to justify in a court martial, but if everything that theodore had said was true, then there would be no condemning grounds to ensnare them both. however, bram did not know if he could trust theodore and he especially did not know if he could trust the admiralty. damn the navy.
Theodore was torn – torn between completing a mission at the risk of his beloved Bram, or letting himself die with the secrets clutched tight behind his teeth. For what purpose would it serve to get the young Lord Edrington mixed up in these affairs? If the endeavour failed, it would only place one who was far afield of the mess at risk – but if the truth came out, and Bram was to learn what Theodore died for in silence, would he not be made bitter with the awareness he could have helped, had Theodore only spoken?
He knew Bram was a man of deep loyalty, a patriot in ways he himself had never connected to. There was an ardent adoration for England and her legacy bred so deep within his lover that it was a wonder at times that Bram could love him at all. He would not take well to the idea he could have protected his darling country, if only the man he once called darling had granted him the capacity to do so.
These thoughts took too long – his breath rattled wetly in his lungs when at last he dragged in the air to speak, and there was a slight rasp that indicated too clearly beyond the veil of his pain that he was not going to last without the aid of a surgeon, and swiftly.
“Proof, my dear,” He had no notion of the fact his darling Bram was genuinely considering the unforgivable on his account – that the dedicated major was already racing through the means of preserving him despite his lack of knowledge on what was going on. “Proof that our Lord host plays his hand with the Irish rebels in support of Napoleon – that he is – funding invasion efforts – “ Theodore coughed, grimacing as he clutched at the wound now, unable to pretend any longer, to hold on to pride any longer and act as though he wasn’t in considerable agony.
He curled slightly, shifting to find his feet, slipping slightly against the pool of his own blood. How far could he run, with the time he had now wasted, and his head now grown heavy and lethargic? How much blood had he lost – how vital was the strike? These were questions to which he did not know the answer, but he did know this, “It’s you or I, darling.”
If Bram took the letters, then he could surrender himself now unto death – but if not, if Bram could not bring himself to believe the admiralty’s suspicions against their host now, he was obligated to give it one last shot with whatever strength he had left. For Theodore held no doubts, and he would not afford Bram any more reason for regret than he was bound to already hold.
“i’ve … never fit in here, you cannot deny that fact. how long must i keep denying myself the right to see my potential as a girl of my own design? a – a woman of my own design?”
“Were I here with the intent to kill you ma’am, I am sure your words would be of little concern to me, as there is little use for metaphor and hope in the eyes of England.”
A voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like Gillette saw fit to point out that wasn’t a very patriotic thing to say, but the facts were the facts. When it came to piracy and all that it represented, most especially the hope, England saw only a threat – and anything England considered a threat, she took every ardent effort to destroy.
“Thankfully for both of us,” He pressed on pleasantly, “I have no intention of killing anyone any time soon, if its all the same to you.”
In truth of reflection, Stephen would be hard pressed to be sure whom he had been attempting to placate in that moment – the young lord Blakeney, or the poor tortoise whom had startled the lad. As it was, the boy’s calm and apparent delight with matters soothed whatever remaining nerves he held himself, and Stephen could not contain his own smile.
“Yes, I rather suppose it is easy to lose track out here – and they are phenomenally quiet creatures!” They were rather surrounded by them in fact, most of them having wandered a bit more up the ridge in search of more low hanging foliage upon which to indulge. This one, it seemed, had found itself convinced that a shirt would make fine fare instead.
Reaching up, Stephen plucked a branch the tortoise would not have been able to reach on its own, and held it above the creature’s snout – drawing attention to it and hopefully, aiding his young companion in escaping the less than dire clutches of his newfound friend.
“I’d never thought them capable of growing quite so large – it truly is a wonder, this place.” So many undiscovered secrets, nature unveiling countless marvels in one small stretch of islands. He’d meant to do more travelling today, but as it was they had time to sit and rest, which he’d allowed himself on account of his injury – since, they’d found so much in this spot, he’d rather lost the urge to move!
It was not often that the fleet turned its gaze upon vessels belonging to the Navy – preferring to harass merchants and especially the EITC rather than risk directly assaulting military vessels where captains were as likely to fight for the sake of the fight than they were to surrender.
The only time they did targelt a vessel belonging to his majesty was when the cargo aboard that ship outweighed the consequences of attacking her – generally speaking a bit of intelligence Thomas himself was rarely privy to as the essential equivalent to a midshipman. It was for the quartermasters to determine how much the gun crews were entitled to know and today, they had determined it best the crew knew only that this ship would serve well as a replacement for the Brigade while she was under repairs in Port Royal.
As ever, Thomas feared the sight of familiar faces when boarding, and his stomach had dropped down to his toes when he had seen the young lord Blakeney among the captured survivors that would be released when they next made port. He had not meant to make himself known to the boy – had almost missed him when he had come down to check the tally – but now not only had he been seen, he had been just as recognized.
Stilling in the midst of his hard beaten retreat, Thomas considered his options. One way or another, the captain would hear of this – and he would rather she hear it from him than any other. Sighing, he turned and tucked down so that he could approach the brig and speak quietly with the boy.
“There are times when we must favor subtlety, Mister Blakeney – and I do think you’ll agree that this is one of them.” Pressing his forearm against the bars, he leaned his forehead against it in order to keep his back to his own crew and his words private with the younger man. “I’ve no intention of leaving you here for long – but it would be best if you held our old association private. I doubt my friends here would take kindly to it.”
The fact he was ex-Navy was in fact no secret at all, but the boy didn’t know that. What mattered was Blakeney’s companions – they were the ones Thomas could not protect, and therefore were the ones most likely to cause him trouble later. So if they thought they had no hope, it would be better than letting them know there was a chance – and it was not being taken.
@oceanfoamed liked for a starter from calico jack !!!
jack never cared for port royal. it might have been subconscious pride for his own home port or the raving attacks on the spanish that kept him constantly on edge to see those great, red – crossed sails on the horizon. his dislike didn’t stem from unfamiliarity, as jack prided himself on being an adaptable creature. perhaps it was simply something in the air.
the sky bled scarlet and the sun shared the hue of a firing canon as it kissed the wavering, oceanic horizon. purple bruises rolled across the sky, threatening a storm festooned above the east. a great, sun – tanned slab of muscle, tattoo, and knives glared at him from the adjacent jetty, surely thinking that jack was staring at him rather than the foreboding sky. rackham held his gaze and put his sunglasses on with a flick of insouciance before turning his brown eyes front.
heading into town, the two made their way to the rendezvous point with a mysterious caller who was looking to hire their ferrying service, taking less – than – savory cargo from one depository to the other. the meeting wasn’t to convene until long after the sun went down, but jack was eager to sit down at an inn somewhere and eat something that he didn’t have to pick maggots or rat shit out of, and hoped that charles was of the same mind.
“do you know where to find this man? from what i know of him, he’s a lizard looking fuck, but it seems like this place is crawling with people that fit that description uncannily,” he said to charles, who was looking as leonine as ever in the shadows of the sunset.
Port Royal had a bite to it that Charles held little fondness for. Her fortifications were becoming frightfully admirable, and the noose of England throttled the freedom from her more and more with every passing day. While it was not necessarily dangerous to conduct one’s business here, if England’s interests became more focused in this region it was of little doubt where at least one of her fleets would anchor itself.
When that day came, business in Port Royal would become quite a deal more difficult, and the risk of it would either make the profit increase tremendously, or would force it to take place elsewhere until this area, like so many before it, became too dry for any free man to drift in, let alone conduct himself in the avenues of services rendered.
Yet again Charles found himself grimly grateful for the legitimizing papers – even if it did mean a port to answer to, it was a free port in it’s own way, and one not even England would fuck with. It made striding beneath the growing shadows of an English-dominated fort a little less daunting, all things considered.
Jack’s voice drew his gaze away from the shadows, and distracted him from tracking the movements of the redcoats. The man’s irritable manner caused a twitch in Charles’ lips that might have indicated a smile had almost occured on reflex before being subdued. Leave it to Jack to dismiss the ominous sense of foreboding with his saucy observations.
“Lizards ain’t done nothing to deserve being thrown in with this lot,” He pointed out in spite of the seriousness of the situation, “Though I imagine I get your point.” He did – he no more liked this than Jack did, admittedly. “We’re meant to meet up at the Broken Spear, though from what I hear the only thing decent there is the ale.” The food, apparently, was better meant for pigs than people. “Figure we might as well wait somewhere with better fare, in the meanwhile.”
Which would explain why they weren’t heading down toward the Spear, but rather up farther from the docks, toward some of the better establishments. “Unless you had something else in mind.”
@lightsailing is a fucking inspiration honestly? I absolutely love reading her work – it’s extremely immersive and could easily be the sort of thing I could just pick up on a rainy day and read in book format comfortably. I feel completely enveloped in the world and storytelling, like I’ve been transported into a novel – she honestly puts so much detail into her pieces – the craftsmanship required in setting a scene the way she does in a world set so uniquely apart from our own ( and yet, simultaneously, historically true to our world ) takes time and dedication and she never disappoints. She inspires me to try harder, to reach farther, and to return to my roots.
I’ve learned so much in my time writing with her – especially about music and the way it can set a tone. Every time she sends me another piece is a journey in and of itself and it enriches the experience that much more.
But beyond all that, she’s super easy to talk to. I always feel at home nattering at Kara, and she’s an absolute delight to have on the dash. Her liveblogging gives me life and everything she posts is always worth reading whether I am involved or not. I feel like I’ve known her for ages, which is wild cause we only met this year. I’m so happy to have fallen into her sphere though, and cannot wait to see what she brings to the table next ❤
Ocean Archive 