Tag: of monsters and valiant men ( subverse i )

“where else is hope, if not in literature?” [ @ abigail, probably in her Thomas And James Kind Of Adopted Me I Guess verse. ]

{ Classic Starters } 

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It was not entirely uncommon for her to get lost in her writing to the point she lost track of the conversations around her. Mister McGraw and Mister Hamilton were so often engaged in the most delightful philosophical debates that she had learned to write to the sound of their voices without being drawn into conversation. 

Like a comfortable and reassuring sound, as warm as rain upon the window as the fire crackled in the grate, their words could circle round her as she penned down her demons and let angels take flight where the need seemed at its most dire. Every now and then though, they would say something silly – or pose a question that was phrased in such a way she knew herself to be included in the inquiry. 

Mister McGraw’s voice had pitched differently, causing her to tune in automatically – unconsciously recognizing he meant for her to pay attention – though the question itself didn’t warrant much need to stir. Mister Hamilton might have been about to say something – as she didn’t look up from her work, Abigail had no notion of it.

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“Inside everyone, of course,” There was no doubt or concern in her answer, offered as it was with all the simplicity of a known fact. “That is where it’s born, after all. Inside the hearts of everyone, whether they can read or not – it’s bigger than literature Mister McGraw – hope isn’t something that belongs only to the educated.” 

“I will not hide the truth from you.” [ @ Abigail ;; ]

{ The Tudors }

“I know,” There is no doubt in her tone as she holds her arm out to him expectantly, “It’s why I came to you about this, Mister McGraw. While I’m sure Mister Hamilton would tell me – I admit that I’ve got some questions only you can answer, where my father’s concerned. And I think it might be best if we didn’t trouble Mister Hamilton with such things in any case – we all have our good and our bad days, but I think he struggles a bit more than most with the other ones.” 

△ + Abigail + Do you think Flint was right to kill your father?

{ Invasive Questions } 

“How cruel,” That he would even ask something like this was almost evil in a way. Did he ask to satisfy his conscience, or to aggravate her own? “I don’t wish to answer this at all.” Somewhere between an eight and a ten, to be sure. She was quiet, seemingly unwilling to step forth with her thoughts on the matter but in truth – “I am – I am not sure.” 

God, what a dreadful daughter she was! Her poor father would be turning in his grave if only he had one – and that only made matters worse, didn’t it?

“There – are times when I can understand it. When I agree with the decision so deeply that I scare myself. What my father did – what he allowed to go unpunished – it was deserving of an equal answer. I do think that.” 

Again, she fell quiet, thoughtful. “But – I cannot help but regret it. He was my father and for all his sins, I am not sure I will ever be able to wholly condemn him. I do not think it is in me to hate him entirely – and that by trying to do so, I am – being dishonest, with myself, in order to – “ It was an unkind admission, but then, it was an unkind question. “In order to appease you.”  

Abigail: Smash or Pass + Joji 👀

{ Smash or Pass }

“While I am not sure what business it is of yours captain,” One day, she would remember he had retired from that life, and stop using his title as a sort of nickname when she couldn’t bring herself to use his first name, but today was hardly the day. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” She couldn’t help but huff a little in amusement, her lips twisting into a wry half smile – to think that she could hear such a vulgar thing and not be bothered was testament enough to how much had changed in her life, but that she might answer without feeling the need to turn red in the wake of it was actually a little terrifying. “But we already are, as you say, smashing.” 

[intolerablexsacrifice, for Abigail] 🥣 Bring my muse soup/medicine when they are sick [ listen let her be thomas & james’ neighbour or some shit ]

{ Nonverbal Starters }

The sound of his boots could have been likened to thunder against the crashing ache inside her head, and it was all she could do not to bury herself under the covers like a child to escape being seen in so pitiful a manner as this. Still, in the end, she did sit herself up – pressing her back against the wall so as not to lose all sense of equilibrium in so doing – and found that in the time it took her to adjust comfortably, he had already set something down on the bedside table.

Silence reigned a moment as she observed the hot soup, something strange twisting up inside of her that she could not place. It had been years – years now since Charlestown, and all that she had lost. She had learned to manage for herself, had learned to keep going even when she was absolutely miserable with a cold, and she knew she could have managed this one just as well. 

Gazing up at him, she found she couldn’t quite speak past the lump in her throat as she realized that this was the first time someone had cared for her, completely without prompting, since Miss Barlow had encouraged her through a letter to follow Eleanor. Her time with the woman had been short, but unfailingly kind – and of course, before then, she’d had her father, and her handmaiden – 

Forcing herself to breathe, finding the ache in her head and chest only made worse with emotions could both be eased by focusing on her lungs for a time, she offered a smile as she reached out, gripping the bowl with care and finding at last, something to say as the heat brought reality to her palm, and woke her back to the present. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” She drew the bowl into her lap, curious to why he had, or if perhaps it had been Thomas who had set him to it, “Thank you – it’s very kind.”

@intolerablexsacrifice