☾ : On a sleepless night, what would they be found doing? for gillette !!!

Trying to sleep anyway, because he knows he needs it and he knows he needs to be functional and on his game at all times. If all efforts fail, if every method he knows of to encourage sleep does not succeed, he stays in bed and simply keeps his eyes closed.

He dismisses thoughts and – I would like to say he meditates naturally, honestly, because there is no other term for what he does. It’s breathing exercises and mind clearing efforts – whether he sleeps or not by the end of it, his body rests, and that can often be enough to last him on the most sleepless of periods.

lightsailing‌:

closed starter for @oceanfoamed

of all the enemies of the crown, lord edrington could never will himself to find any respect to be given to agents of espionage. it was a shameful affair borne of trickery and deceit and all virtues that went against gentlemanship. conflict, even in the finest of societies, was inevitable; the least that could be done was to ensure that some rules of war be upheld.

it was with irritation that he dispatched his men to rifle through the estate for the spy supposedly in their midst. there had been papers, the content of which not divulged to edrington, stolen from the master’s study.

he heard footfalls approaching, a wild, frantic gait. edrington let his breath out slowly with the anticipatory satisfaction that the spy was crawling right into his grasp. he unsheathed his sword, the worn brass of the guard and pommel cold against his bare hand.

at the very last moment, he turned out from shadows of the hall, holding firm as the blade pierced a body. not one to deny any man a mercy ( even a man as low as a spy ), bram withdrew his sword. blood glinted on the steel in the thin light of moon that passed through the broad window panes of the hallway like ghosts haunting the mansion. the man staggered back and, as he did, a crescent of the moon flitted across his face.

the sword clattered to the floor. he dashed forward, taking the man in his arms. “good god, what have i done? theodore, my heart,” bram whispered, staggering to the ground. his hands trembled as they ran over theodore’s body. he prayed that this was but a nightmare, that he would frighten himself awake and turn over to see his man, his darling man, asleep and safe beside him.

the sound of his sword falling had, no doubt, alerted the very sentries he had scattered around the manor. his hand balled in theodore’s shirt tight as if he was holding on to the last grains of sand that spoke of their waning time together. bram had to think quickly while fate had not yet solidified.

as much as he loved theodore, could he let allow a criminal to go free, could he lie through his teeth to the people he swore to protect, could he be instrumental in treason against the crown, knowing the empire could be at risk? however, was bram’s heart strong enough to bear another break? would he ever heal from this, watching another person he held so dear to his very being, slip away into the veil of death?

“you damnable fool!” he hissed, voice just above a whisper, for any louder would have have caused it to break.

It was all fun and games until he had been caught – he had agreed to assist in this matter mostly because it had sounded so dreadfully entertaining. He understood the risks of course, the danger of being seen as a spy himself should anyone lay witness to his actions – but he had believed, wholeheartedly, that he would be able to prevail despite the obstacles in his way.

The admiralty could not risk sending an actual spy into their own house – could not risk it becoming known that there was doubt to the intentions and loyalty of a lord – but a youthful and willing scapegoat to play the part and get the proof was a gamble worth taking. Theodore knew the reason he had been chosen was because he was known for one thing most of all:

Appearing absolutely harmless until it was too late.

Indeed, he had a marvelous time convincing his way to the right manors, the right houses, and sneaking off in search of the evidence the admiralty required. He’d done remarkably well the last two times and perhaps that was why fate had seen fit to intervene. He had grown too confident.

Caught concealing something in his coat by one of the marines, Theodore had little choice but to fight his way out and run for it. He’d been running toward the door after breaking past several of the soldiers barricading the hallway ( taking a few minor hits along the way ) when a familiar form had stepped from the shadows to stop him.

It was almost embarrassing to know he had stopped to look at him, rather than register the fact his sabre was bared.

Now, lowered as he was to the ground as shouts rang out nearby, Theodore knew he was fast out of time. He could not risk Bram – even with the pain lancing through him, Theodore felt sure he could run if he had to – but not at the cost of this man’s success in catching him, however.

“You know,” Theodore wondered if Bram had realized, in the darkness, who he was. Or if the shadows had blocked his face, that it wasn’t until the blade was through him that his lover had realized what had been done. It mattered little in the grand scheme – Bram had a duty to uphold, and Theodore would not begrudge him that. “I always yearned for an adventurous death,” He mused, feeling the hand twisting in his shirt and hearing shouts upstairs as his capture was perhaps discovered by backup, “I daresay love grants me that.”

Even if he survived this, he would be arrested and put to death for his actions. Theodore knew the admiralty would not defend him and in truth, he found it sweeter to die by Bram’s side than before a firing squad, or the cheers of the gallows crowd.

“There are letters in my pocket,” Theodore whispered, praying he still had one shot to at least succeed in protecting Bram from the treasonous actions of the man in charge of this very manor house, “I would ask you take them to the admiralty in my stead.”

“You look really tired.” from bram to theo (,:

{ Four Word Prompts }

He was exhausted actually – the only thing keeping him up was the intimate awareness that he could not afford to repay Bram any damage to his belongings, and the state of his uniform was perhaps only matched by the state of the flesh that lay beneath it. He was bandaged of course, but he had been in such a rush to at least see Bram before he was whisked off to his next posting he had not bothered to change. Now, he wished he’d taken at least a little time to do so, if only so it would not feel so shameful to grab the man and collapse upon the pale, pristine sofa.

“I could use some rest,” He agreed mildly, “Do you mind if I stay the night – I do not believe I will be excused from duty long,” Not with the state of affairs at any rate – Dauntless would be sailing out as early as tomorrow afternoon provided no damages could be located. “I’ve leave to spend the time ashore, all matters considered.” The benefit of being wounded in battle, it seemed.

❝ I am no longer a child! ❞ from william the child to horatio

{ 100 Random Starters }

What had he done in his previous life that was so atrocious as to be worthy of a karma this tainted and unfortunate? Horatio did not often lament in a fashion quite so exasperated as this – indeed, more often than not his grief ran far too deeply down melancholic chains for something so light as a mere nuisance such as this, but as it was he found himself fettered by obligation – he could not outright ignore the outburst, but nor could he blatantly punish it, what with the boy’s rank. Finally, after some consideration, he opted to travel down a middle path that acknowledged matters while also showing them no favor, in the hopes that it might mitigate damage appropriately.

“Such protestations undermine your intentions, Mister Blakeney. A man’s wisdom is best shown by knowing when to argue and when to keep quiet,” That might have been pointed enough, but there was another element to address that Horatio felt obligated to point out as one who often felt out of his depth due to his age, “If you do not wish to be treated as a child, you must never acknowledge the idea you may be seen as one – and any who may attempt to use your youth against you, I would suggest you ignore or outwit, for the more you argue the more certain they will become in their assessment of you.”

‘don’t you die on me.’ from phil to andre (,:

{ Mother Earth Starters }

Andre could not help but wonder slightly, as he laid coughing upon the snow, when it was he had come to mean so much to the earl’s daughter that his present state would alarm her so. While there was no doubt that he was getting on in years, and it was true he had taken a rather shocking spill just now thanks to missing his step on the ice, there was hardly enough cause to think he’d perish from it.

Sitting up shakily, he supposed it might have something to do with the fact he was also rather ill, and probably ought to have chosen not to come out at all. However, it was not often that he had anything to do, and refusing an invitation meant waiting a long stretch of months before being remembered by the world enough to receive another. While he wasn’t the most sociable of men, he did have some need for companionship from time to time, and he hadn’t thought the cold such a terrible thing.

“It will take more than England’s weather to kill me, mon chou,” He mused as his breath returned to him. Dusting off his pants, he sat in the snow a moment longer and prayed the ache in his bones away as he gripped his cane and attempted to get his feet back under him.

Tribulations Of Lizards And Boys

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Thomas’ lips twitched somewhat at young Blakeney’s indignation, and the stomping of his feet – admittedly thinking it the dawning of a bloody tantrum rather than the sheer insanity it truly was. The iguana ( which Thomas was fair sure was a friend of the doctor’s ) was a large enough creature that even he would be hesitant to wrestle with it, so to see the young, one armed middie launch himself to pin the beast against the wall admittedly left him speechless.

The lizard was twisting in an unhappy fashion with considerable force when Blakeney’s pleas jolted Thomas into action, hardly wishing to see the boy hurt ( or to have to be the one to explain to the captain how he had been wounded to begin with ) Darting over, he considered matters before him before deciding to do what he might have if the lizard were a dog. Animals were animals after all.

Leaning down, he set his arm underneath a cool belly and pressed his stomach against the rough spinal ridges, quietly hoping he was not about to cause damage to his uniform as he hauled back and lifted the fellow up. There was a great and mighty wriggling in protest, and Thomas stumbled back before reacting on instinct, treating the beast more like a cat and turning it to face himself. This proved potentially foolish when claws flashed so near his face he froze, but once the lizard had its front half over his shoulder, it seemed to calm considerably.

“Is there a reason we are harassing the doctor’s pet demon?” Thomas asked lightly, keeping a weather eye on the scales alongside his face and wincing slightly as he felt pinpricks of claws in his back and front – less for the pain, and more out of lament for his coat.

Good Excuse For Bad Influences

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A downfall in social standing was perhaps the most familiar and ridiculous cause for a woman’s suffering that Julia had found herself encountering in her many years upon this earth. Countless were the times when she found a woman seething against the limitless frustrations brought upon her by men and status, only to witness them recoil from the idea of escaping those very same fetters when the opportunity was offered to them. It was ever so fashionable to be frustrated – but to take action, well that was just unthinkable, wasn’t it?

Yet for every twenty or thirty women who shared their laments and fled from the idea of changing their circumstances, there was always one who would take a stand for herself and come out beautiful for it. Julia had welcomed many a woman who had chosen to flee their husbands, their fathers, their brothers – and many more who had chosen to kill them outright. Each one moving on to build a life of their own making and design, with no voice louder than their own on what they could and could not do. And as ever, Julia found herself curious to know if she had found another such woman – or simply one of many who would blur away into the statistically forgettable.

“That is only true if bottomless vaults of money mean anything to you,” Julia pointed out blandly. “If money and social standing mean more to you than your right to choose, your ability to live life in a manner that does not hold you back, then you have no reason to lament your position. You have made your choice in that case – to be miserable about it is hypocritical at best, wouldn’t you say?”

Julia smiled, leaning so she could take a better look at the ‘creeps’ in question. “People who live in luxury often need to imagine their own hardships to even have a taste of a life that is interesting. Or – in cases like theirs – create their own little dramas. The question that raises then, is whether or not you want to remain the tool of their entertainment, or change the rules of the game entirely.”

The Good Die Young

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To his credit, young Blakeney was holding up better under the knife than many men twice his age had done without a nigh heart stopping amount of laudanum in their systems. Stephen was reluctant to use too much on the boy, knowing its ravaging effects could be hard enough on adults – and while he was sure some would argue Blakeney’s status on that front, he was in no mood to hear it. There were some matters when age held too much impact for pride to hold any bearing between who ought to qualify as a boy or a man, and medicine was most certainly one of them.

The work was taxing – both physically and on a lower, internal level that Stephen quietly suppressed. To enact this level of violence on so small a form – even for the sake of sparing the life – was trying at best. It was something Stephen never did particularly well with on a personal level, though he was wise never to show it – but there were times he could not help but remark on certain points of interest, such as ( in this instance ) the sheer amount of blood one small body could contain.

The quiet apology catches him off guard – he had not thought Blakeney was even coherent at the moment, but as it was his own reply was clipped from the stress of his efforts and his desire to get this matter resolved swiftly so as to see the lad on his way to recovery with as minimal pain as possible under the given circumstances.

“That was rhetorical – and hardly anything to apologize for.” He doubted the boy was functional enough to maintain conversation – though if he was some alcohol might be needed soon enough. This next procedure would be even worse, as the flesh was cauterized to seal the wound.

When The Smoke Clears

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It is difficult to say what is the most jarring aspect of this unexpected visitation of the young earl’s daughter. While her presence alone was shocking considering he had only entertained her here twice before and with appropriate company, that she would arrive in such a state was absolutely inexplicable ( for who in their right mind would cause such damage to a woman in a time of peace? ) it was in fact her accent which left Andre flatfooted.

When she spoke again, he shook himself of the astonishment sharply and stepped back, motioning her in as he gazed past her in case anyone happened to have followed her here. Closing the door after she had passed, he bolted it and made his way quickly as he could manage to where he kept his alcohol. He was not fast on this damnable leg, but thankfully his cottage was a small thing indeed, and it did not take long to acquire what he needed and bring it over to her.

“This will help numb the pain,” He explained, unstoppering the bottle and setting it down for her. “There are no surgeons near here.” Not near enough for a wound like that, at least. She would have been wiser to have turned another way, he was certain. What was worse, he had never truly needed to function without one what with the fact his sister had been such an expert on the matter. Unfortunately she was in France, leading in all that he could not and would not in this chosen exile of his – but he could not simply do nothing.

“We may be able to bind it up – “ Damn propriety when a life was at stake, “Once we stop the bleeding, I can ride for a surgeon, if you will it.” He would not take liberty, regardless – no matter what he did here, the earl was sure to hold him accountable, so it seemed to Andre better instead to focus on the girl herself. In truth, of the two, it was her opinion which mattered more to him either way.