‘every word you’re saying is a lie.’ [ @ silver >:/ ]

Silver affected a quizzical look, as if he had absolutely no idea what on earth Flint could be on about. He held it for a good thirty seconds before he could feel his fucking moustache quivering against the effort to keep a straight face, and he was done in. His teeth flashed in an unrepentant grin even as he asked, “Alright, who told you?”

Someone must have clued Flint in to the fact the ‘insults’ he had been learning were in fact compliments, which of course when stated angrily had the hilarious effect of confusing the shit out of whoever they directed at – which hopefully would mitigate some of the damage of Flint’s rather combative personality in some cases. Now that he was on to it though, it would hardly be as entertaining.

‘ you did the best you could. ’ [ @ silver! ]

{ House Of Broken Angels }

“Clearly I didn’t,” The words were spat out before he could think, “Or this – none of this – would be a fucking issue right now.” If he had done his best he wouldn’t have gotten sucked in on the mad scheme to begin with. He didn’t even know why he was telling Flint all of this, when the best he could hope for was the man getting incensed enough to storm back to the Walrus and demand his fucking job back – rendering Silver useless in the process, no doubt.

There was nothing to gain in revealing failures to this man – but at the same time he honestly couldn’t tell any longer if the crew was so much to lose. They were hardly good men – not that Silver himself could boast any better now – and as it stood the only real value they offered was in the value they gave to Silver, which was a terrible thing he always had to fight and lie and cheat and steal to maintain. It was that, or pity, and that was not a medicine he intended to swallow any time soon.

“I see two paths before me,” He shifted, managing to contain a grimace as the ache in his leg spiked all the way to his hip with the motion, going quiet a moment as he forced himself to breathe through it – making it look like it was for effect rather than adjustment to the searing light in his fucking skull. “Either I lie, and claim repairs for the ship under the wing and prayer of hope that nobody questions why we were in a position to be hounded by 24-pounders in the first place – or, I wash my hands of all this and play the same card as you. And right now that latter idea is looking mighty appealing.”

The Walrus maintained itself in Nassau under the bullshit premise that everyone aboard that ship was now a merchant for ‘His Majesty’ through the ordinance of one Woodes Rogers. So long as that remained true, there was no hard feelings apparently. Of course any act of piracy done by those who now bore those pardons meant hanging without trial, and no pirate ship was packing 24-pound guns anywhere in this area.

Some of mister majesty’s frigates, however….

Silver sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been foolish for any man to think the Walrus capable of taking that damn ship, regardless of the wealth of the prize aboard her he should have deterred the men better, rather than letting the damn quartermaster rile them up. If he’d tried harder in that moment none of them would be in this position now, and some part of him honestly hated how easy and tempting it still was to run off and abandon them all to their twisted fates.

“Or alternatively,” The words seemed to fight their way past the grit of his teeth, his reluctance was so great, “I could do both.”

Windows To The Past

@intolerablexsacrifice continued from [x]

He knew from the expressions both open and repressed that Flint had reached some conclusions – likely correct, and sure to bear questions in their wake. Yet there was nothing the man could do to him now that he could not escape. There was no benefit for Flint now that his reason for piracy had ripped reality out from under him. In truth – in this life Flint had damned himself to – Silver was one of the few things he had left. It granted security in revelation, even one as significant as this and that alone was what had afforded this moment to culminate into what it now was.

Still, he had no desire to give more at this juncture than what was needed to make the hell he was presently subjected to by way of Flint trying to pick his way through Don Quixote end. “Seeing as you seem determined to hack your way into it, I feel I have little choice in the matter unless I wish to be victim to that on a regular basis,” The retort was drawled in such a manner that it was clear he was still shaking off the nonsense he’d just heard, while simultaneously offering no further substance to Flint’s little observation.

Silence Hits So Hard

@intolerablexsacrifice continued from [x]

As had become customary after landing in Nassau and setting Jack and Anne in charge of distribution, payment and supply, Charles had gathered the small oilskin bundle that consisted of Flint’s share. He had talked it over with Thomas before setting it down in the books – an unofficial thing between the men themselves, notarized to spare questioning from the men on the rare account something valuable was included.

A portion of what was meant for Thomas went to Flint and Charles knew enough about the complications there to recognize that no matter which way the wind ended up blowing, it was not something Thomas would change until he felt Flint was standing well on his own two feet. Admittedly, Charles had thought the man was doing better – but it seemed that either the Ranger had been gone for far too long, or something had snapped off again.

He’d taken one step into the small house hidden away in the interior and – upon noting where Flint had hidden himself – turned and walked right back out. It took longer than he cared to admit to hassle some men into assisting him, but the supplies he needed were brought over and he took care of the rest himself. His actions were quiet, and he kept an eye on Flint the whole while – but the man either did not register him, or did not care to know what he was doing. Not until Charles finally went to gather him at any rate.

The sourness of the entire place was sharper and more potent this close to the goddamn source, and Charles bit back the urge to cough from it as Flint snarled like a cornered animal. Having no time for this bullshit, he answered by physically dragging the man to the washroom and pushing him in roughly. A bath laid ready and waiting, as did a change of clothes.

“Unless you want me to take care of this, too, shut the fuck up and wash,” The tone broke no room for argument – if Flint put up a fuss there was no doubt that Charles would find a way to force him into that tub, and it wouldn’t be a good day for anyone involved. “Don’t come out until you smell like a human rather than a bloated rat carcass.”

Seeing as that would likely take at least thirty minutes or more, Charles knew he’d have time enough to get this place in order. Some of it would have to be replaced, but that which didn’t could at least be cleaned up.

💪 – Pick my muse up [ for Silver, yes he knows you don’t like to be helped, just accept this ]

{ Touch Starved Meme }

“Don’t do this,” His voice is pitched low, as much a warning growl as it is a desperate plea for something – perhaps mercy – in spite of the hot, lancing agony gripping his injury so tightly it made what was left of his leg prickle. His thigh felt almost cold, and his hip ached as if it had been punched repeatedly – all of which, stemming from the pressure being placed on sewn and cauterized flesh wrapped in nigh macabre fashion over bone.

It was as deplorable to look at as it was to live with, but at the moment he didn’t give a damn about anything – not the pain, not the visual of it all, not even the fear or the melancholy could distract him from stopping Flint from doing what he was about to. There was little he could do beyond this – and his words fell uselessly upon stubborn ears.

Helpless fury and righteous indignation burned through him hotter than the pain as he found himself hauled up over the man’s shoulder like a fucking sack of grain. Hatred of his situation blinding him for a split second – wild and nauseating enough to consider biting the man’s back for all he was worth. In the end though, he did nothing, his entire form stiff with anger and desperation as he was physically carried off the beach.

He couldn’t say how long they walked. Couldn’t begin to account for the time amid the bitter sensations rolling through him, the bile that he kept having to swallow back – though whether that came from his helplessness to stop this, or the sheer amount of physical pain he was in, it was difficult to tell. All he knew was that eventually, he found himself deposited on a chair, in the now-familiar surroundings of Flint’s home in the interior.

His breathing was labored – pain and fury making it difficult to maintain himself. He had enough shit to deal with now that this fuck had retired without being so disgustingly undermined as to be physically carried from his landing point. While he knew full well the man he’d set as quartermaster could manage matters, Flint had now forcibly reminded those present to witness the goddamn event that Captain Silver was a fucking invalid. Something he generally managed to keep overlooked by never acting like one. And then this – this –

“Bastard,” It’s spat out through gritted teeth, jaw aching from how hard it clenched itself against making any sound that might hint toward the depths of pain he was in right now. “If you want your ship back there’s better ways to get it than pulling shit like that.” He didn’t even want the Walrus, and by God he would be damned before he let Flint turn him into something the men saw as disposable in exchange for her.

It didn’t occur to him this could be about anything else.

😶 – Quietly lean against my muse [ for Vane, in That Verse, RIP ]

{ Touch Starved Meme }

The dynamic between himself and Flint had shifted dramatically since Charlestown – though nothing from that point could have indicated to him that matters would culminate into what they were now. It was like two tigers that had held territorial dispute for years, only for one of them to get caught in a poacher’s trap and the other to inherit everything. Yet unable to leave it’s fellow to die, it began looking after it – defending and caring for it – until its old rival was in fact a brother, a comrade it would defend to the last breath.

The wounded one hadn’t lost its claws – it was still as strong and as terrible as ever – but it was slower to engage. Quieter than it used to be, less interested in the things that used to be exciting, less engaged in the things it ought to do in order to survive. It could recover – but so long as it was too hurt inside to overcome the attack, it needed another – and moments like these, when Flint leaned on him in silence like an old friend, were indicators that the hurt was still bleeding somewhere deep within.

Charles did not draw away – nor did he draw any particular attention to the contact between them beyond a slight lean of his own, increasing the solidity of their position. Silently assuring that so long as Flint needed strength, he could rely on Charles to provide it whenever he was present.

The book in the other’s hand had fallen lax, and seemed to be drooping toward the floor. Quietly, he reached out and collected it, glancing to see if the man was awake or if he had fallen asleep. From the glassy stare, Charles deduced he was somewhere in between both and turned the book over in his hand, peering grimly at the pages before him.

Teach had taught him letters, the art of reading and writing. It was not his strength, but Rackham made him keep up on it, insisting it was a valuable skill set – and it had proven to be so a few times, when the other man hadn’t been available to consult on something. This was – a different matter altogether, but he was not equipped to deal with Flint’s wounds the way he could stitch up a crew mate, or plug a hole on a ship. This was – stranger, than any of that, but queerly familiar enough that he had some fundamental understandings. One of which was that the state Flint was presently in was not safe, and he needed to be drawn out of it.

Huffing softly, he set his hand on the page, and began to read the words aloud, hoping his voice and the phrases from the book might stir the man out of his stupor. “By MANNERS, I mean not here, Decency of behaviour; as how one man should salute another, or how a man should wash his mouth, or pick his teeth before company,” Charles paused – and as a man who read slowly, it might not have been too notable overall as he tilted his head a bit slightly at the book because frankly he’d been unaware there were particulars in how one picked their teeth.

Carrying on dutifully, however, Charles maintained his slow but steady passage down the page. “- and such other points of the Small Morals; But those qualities of man-kind, that concern their living together in Peace, and Unity. To which end we are to consider, that the Felicity of this life, consist not in the repose of a mind satisfied. For there is no such – such – “

The fuck is that, Charles fell off, staring and trying to make sense of the letters, before sliding the book back to Flint helplessly, because that didn’t look like English – and if it was, it was no word he had heard before or knew to pronounce.

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!

For other starter calls, check the tag HERE.