Oct 7, 2017
@captainkingflint (x)
Thomas stares at him for a moment ❝That’s not...that’s not an excuse, James. We are supposed to stop the violence, not expand it. ❞
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@captainkingflint (x)
Thomas stares at him for a moment ❝That’s not...that’s not an excuse, James. We are supposed to stop the violence, not expand it. ❞
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@captainkingflint cont.
"They will come." 'They' was a subjective moniker, at that point. His crew or another. Redcoats. Even if it was only to save him long enough to end him themselves at the end of a rope, it would buy time to change that. Any 'they' would be welcome. Yet the minutes ticked by with no such intervention.
Miranda made no answer of the dress, merely clicking her tongue at the sentiment, not least of all to keep herself in check; fingers running down the side of his neck as she glanced up in building panicked frustration that there was, indeed, no one coming. "Patience was never your virtue."
♚ - CaptainkingFlint
(not dumb at all, to answer your second message; since the birthmark one would be kinda awkward - chokehold, and all - so going with the name on wrist thing)
He’d never really thought about it, the name on his wrist. His parents were soulmates, and losing his mother had made a monster of his father, so he’s never much cared for that option. In fact, it seemed like one more reason to change his name on a regular basis.
Until he happened to see the name James McGraw in a journal - Miss Ashe’s journal, knocked from her hands by a sudden rocking of the ship. John had handed it back to her but not before seeing enough on the page to know that James McGraw and James Flint were one and the same.
This John kept to himself through amputations and confessions of theft, conversations in a cell and over rum and a lantern, where he learned the truth behind James McGraw who became James Flint, whose name was on John’s wrist under the cuff he always wore.
But on the cliff that day, he knew it was too much to ask, for Flint’s trust without sharing anything. There was so much he could not say, could not bear to bring out of the darkness of his memories, but - But there is this, which could easily fracture their trust further, as John knew Flint’s name already and thus, had kept one more secret.
“My name - my original one - isn’t John Silver. It’s Sean. Sean Teagan.”
@captainkingflint
❝ everything is poetry when you’re drunk. ❞ - Flint
@captainkingflint
“Not everything. I’m fairly certain that no matter how drunk I was, Billy would never sound poetical. It’s something in his peculiar brand of exasperation and his lack of a sense of humour, he just doesn’t have the capability to be poetical. But all of that’s besides the point, given I’m not entirely drunk.” Silver reasoned, swaying only fractionally on his feet. Normally, he would be able to chalk this up to the movement of the ship, but given the surprising stillness of the water, there really was nothing to account for quite how much he was wobbling. Perhaps he had indulged a fraction too much after all.
☠ - CaptainKingFlint
John opened his eyes, needing a moment for his vision to adjust to the gloom. He didn’t need to see to recognize the chill damp and rough floor of a cell, or to recognize the weight of a shackle around his existing ankle. When his vision did adjust, the sight of Flint across from him wasn’t really all that surprising. “Right, so, I think I took a knock to the head, how did we land here?”
@captainkingflint
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A hand carved, beautifully varnished walking cane. It looks as if it was once just a large, twisted branch, but on top is now carved an elegant skull and snake. - The note attached reads "There's a case against me. Make it go away?"
@captainkingflint
John raised a brow as he picked up the cane, admiring the craftsmanship as he turned it over in his hands. There was no disputing who the gift was from, John was certain even before he read the note. Flint was the only person in the town with the talent to create something as beautiful as this, and as John’s most frequent client it was hardly surprising that there was yet another case against the carpenter. Depositing his usual cane by the door, John picked up his briefcase and made his way out of the house, walking the all too familiar route towards Flint’s workshop to find out the details of his latest misdemeanor.
@captainkingflint cont.
Most of her friends didn't like crowds, but she loved them. There was no real reason to it, it was simply being around so many other people that always felt like a return to something; though there was nothing missing in her life. She'd never had cause to be lonely, but in a crowd it felt like she had been lonely forever and was seeing people for the first time.
Though, in all her experience in crowds, there had never been a face that stopped her so short without explanation as the man in front of her now.
Under other circumstances, she would have reached out to help him when he staggered, but instead she froze under the assault of memory; coming to a peak with a loud crack of a gunshot that made her flinch in the moment before she launched forward, arms wrapping around his neck tightly.
“James.” The name came more easily than anything in her life at the same time as her own did. A different name but one that felt much more correct. Miranda.
"Don’t sneak up on me like that" - CaptainKingFlint
@captainkingflint
❝I am sorry.❞ Thomas chuckles, his head bowed to hide his smile. ❝You seem quite distracted today, Lieutenant. Where is your mind exactly?❞