“Oh? Makes sense.” His hand drops from where he’s been nursing a bloody nose, leaning forward to spit out the remainder that had made it’s way down his throat. He takes a minute to collect himself, pinching the bridge of his nose again before turning back to the other. He seems to pause, as though taking stock of Charles for the first time, marrying the image of him to the words spoken over ale and tavern rumour.
The rough features, handsome and worn, the faint air of calm before the storm, all things that more or less matched his imagination. Yet there’s something almost magnetic about Charles Vane that he hadn’t taken into account.
Interesting.
“So, question.” His tone has dropped, syllables slurred but still detectable, he knows how to steer the conversation towards secretive well enough. “Which do you like better? Iguanas, or, gold?” He raises an eyebrow, demeanor nothing but curious. There’s motive to his innocence, though, and Patrick coughs again, another subtle reminder that he’s injured and is more than happy to keep breathing thank you.
There was very little by way of sympathy from Charles as the man dealt with his bloody nose. The decisions that had lead to that damage were not his problem and frankly he had no reason to be interested.
Though some part of him understood it was customary to ask pointless shit like are you alright or what happened the answer to both of those things were obvious and the stories that they might prompt did not interest him in the slightest. So when he found himself confronted by the other man’s gaze, he didn’t offer anything in return – customary or otherwise.
Apparently, this man could read him about as well as Flint – which was to say, not in the slightest. “I have a better question.” Leaning forward, Charles dipped the fiery end of his cheroot into the dirt, snuffing out the burning tobacco without ever taking his eyes of the other. “Who are you that I should care enough to answer your stupid fucking questions?”
For all he knew, this was some new partner of Elenor’s. He looked soft and posh enough to be exactly the sort of idiot she’d twist around into serving Nassau’s interests in cleaner markets, so it wouldn’t do to fuck with him just yet. Not until his value had been determined, at any rate.
“This?” His words are slurred, expression dazed. He’s miking it – but Charles doesn’t need to know that. His face hurts well enough to remind him not to bring on round two so soon after such a spectacularly drawn out round one. “Oh, uh. Nothing. Tripped.” Into someone’s fist. Yeah, he’s not making any friends, and about the only thing useful he’s learned on this damned island is that Charles Vane was a man with a reputation.
A man, who, also likes iguanas.
“So, you have a few as pets or do you just, you know.” He gestures vaguely around. “-watch?”
Satisfied the man before him seemed more afflicted by pain beset on him through fucking around with the wrong kind of people, Charles exhaled the burn that had been resting in his lungs slowly, his disinterest rather clear. Nassau had troublemakers, but none were fool enough to tussle with him while he was sober.
“Any man who thinks he can keep an animal is a fucking idiot.” Like people, animals were beings unto themselves – they stuck around if it pleased them to do so, and left when it was no longer beneficial. Though admittedly, animals were a great deal more honest about that reality than people were – which was indeed what made this notion of ‘pets’ so goddamn ridiculous.
Flicking ash off his
cheroot, he eyed the other quietly, then, “I let them be. If one happens to come along I won’t let anyone fuck with it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“So you like Iguanas?” Ignore the blood on his face, the evidence of a tussle. He’s more interested in Charles’ thing for lizards than the fact he just had his ass handed to him.
The blood on his face in conjunction with that particular opening does not endear this man to Charles even one iota. “The fuck you do?” If you killed an iguana he may have no choice but to feed you to it’s brothers.
The lean up against his side earns a look, but as soon as he recognizes who it is, there is an ease to which his body relaxes and presses back against the other. There were not many who could get away with sliding up against him like this, but Joji was among the select few whom Charles felt comfortable enough with to have within his physical sphere.
He didn’t say anything – companionable silence was to be expected with this man in particular, and after a night spent listening to Jack talk circles around everyone in the room, only to get challenged by Gates, who built walls with his words that Jack and Eleanor then maneuvered up and over and around – silence was a much desired and needed respite at the moment.
The slight pinching sensation at his shoulder as teeth sank against his flesh brought a smile to Charles’ lips even as familiar arms snaked about his waist. This was a new sort of arrangement, but there was little to it that was not welcome or enjoyable. Joji’s silent manners of initiating tended to shift the brewing storms of oncoming bad moods rather elegantly, though Charles would never own to that.
Shifting, Charles turned in the other man’s hold – a feat made simple by the fact Joji was wise enough to never try to pin or capture, and was generally quite malleable to whatever happened to be required at any given moment. Stained hands gripped the other’s hips to make it clear this was no rejection, ink from the tedious task of book keeping still clinging to prints more suited to hard labour than the more delicate task of holding a quill.
“Is this what you’ve been lingering for, or are you simply letting me know it’s time to leave the rest to Jack?” He never expected Joji to reply in any verbal sense – was quite used to inquiring into the air between them and marveling at how much the man could tell him without a word. Sometimes though – sometimes he had no fucking idea what the man was trying to tell him, and it was damn near maddening. Especially when, for all he knew, the man wasn’t saying anything at all – literally and figuratively.
But it worked, this silence, and Charles often found he didn’t mind it at times like these, when he was pulling the Easterner close to him and leaning down to taste the skin of his neck. This was something neither one of them needed to communicate too much in – and perhaps that was why they enjoyed each other so.
It was not unusual for Jack to leave someone he trusted to look after Charles at times like these – only generally speaking the one he trusted up until most recently had been Anne. The few times both he and Anne had been out of commission like this, Jack had found a way to tend to them both personally while managing the ship – which was of course among the many reasons Charles kept the man so close regardless of the way others so frequently doubted him.
Now, it seemed there was another that had managed to earn the trust of Jack and the respect of Anne enough to be entrusted with Charles while he was in a vulnerable state. Knowing that this man had their trust was the only thing that kept him calm as Joji handed over the basin he needed to wash up with. He liked this one well enough – he was skillful as he was silent, and he had a no nonsense attitude Charles could get behind.
Still, he was watchful as he washed up, the water quickly turning murky from the dirt and the blood that caked his hands and arms from the fight. This was a shift in routine for him, and one that he felt was understandable to be somewhat wary of.
The worst of the mess washed off, he sat down and debated the merits of this – with a man who did not speak there was little to learn, at least through speech. Instead, Charles nudged the chair before him with his foot, indicating the man should take a seat. He had skin that needed sewing – might as well put the man to the task, and see how well he took to it.
This is a permanent starter call for Charles Vane, of Starz’ Black Sails explicitly. Though the disclaimer is made loud and clear on his profile I must stress that I write the fictional character created by the Starz team and not the historical pirate by the same name. Furthermore he is an exclusive muse and I reserve the right not to interact with him if I do not feel comfortable.
These calls give me a heads up on who is open to interacting with whom (which is handy for those who have exclusives among my crew! ) and gives me an excuse to kick you starters whenever something crosses the mind, or blow up your inbox knowing who would be most wanted.
These calls also serve as a final tag dump – when this call is posted it indicates a character has been fully moved into the blog and is ready for action!
Ocean Archive 