#krakean

well, the crew hadn't been wrong, exactly, but they hadn't really been right either, had they?

blackbeard has turned vicious. they walk like a predatory animal, a knife in their hand ready to strike - slams it into the mast next to stede's head.

yet somehow - and this is so blatantly obvious for stede that he wonders how any of them missed it - they all managed to notice that they rage in ed's eyes is just barely shrouding pain. a wounded animal, is what this is, something had happened between stede's leaving and where they are now, something had hurt him and he's recoiling, hiding away.

" oh, honey, "   stede whispers, his voice dripping with sympathy, audible only to the two of them. he’s barely even aware of the dagger by his head. he's not even confident that ed won't use it - the thought simply doesn't cross his mind at all.

very carefully, stede reaches up to lay his hand gently across their cheek. his touch is fragile, glacial, touching the stubble along his jaw before he reaches skin like one would touch the fur of a wounded wolf before reaching flesh - carefully, ensuring that the creature does not bite nor flinch away. grease paint smeared across his skin like war paint. (he's at war inside, how did no one notice but stede?)

there are so many things to say. stede hasn't a clue of where to start unraveling the taped of package of pain that stands in front of him, to get to the insides, to treat the wound.

Even after finding the marooned members of his crew and hearing their story of what had happened upon Edward’s return, the drawn weapons were unexpected. Climbing over the side of The Revenge, Stede found swords and guns pointed in his direction and his hands immediately went up in surrender; he wasn’t here for a fight- far from it. 

Brown eyes quickly darted between the remaining members of his crew before purposefully landing on the captain. He looked rough; Stede’s heart hurt to see him this way. If he had known how badly this would have affected him, he would have done things differently. But that’s hindsight for you.

             LUCIUS HAS BEEN WATCHING blackbeard from across the deck for about twenty minutes now. he’s certain the other man has noticed, but lucius pretends to not be aware. his eyes only raise briefly, darting up a couple of times a minute to get a quick look at him before returning to his sketchbook. the drawings in the captain’s books just don’t do the man justice, in lucius’ opinion, && if nothing else, he thinks that someone with talent && an eye for FIGURE ought to take a stab at immortalizing the famed pirate captain. 

(  besides, he thinks, it’ll impress pete when he shows him later.  )

when he’s done, lucius closes the pad of paper with a sharp snap, weighted pages fluttering against each other, && tucks it under his arm. he marches over to where blackbeard stands, leaning against the bow of the ship, looking out over the water.

 FJORD   SAYS,   IT’LL   BE   JUST     like   the   old   times,   when   they   all   meet   in   nicodranas   for   the   first   time   in   months,   and   jester   has   missed   orly   tremendously,   so   they   say   goodbye   to   mama,   and   set   sail   on   the   nein   heroez.   kingsley   is   a   bright   new   thing,   watching   the   world   with   the   same   fascinated   curiosity   she’d   had   herself   when   she’d   first   left   the   chateau,   and   they   all   pretend   molly’s   name   isn’t   a   bladed,   hushed   thing   between   them.   she’d   forgotten,   of   course,   how   incredibly   boring   the   ocean   is         (     when   i   get   home,   she   sends   to   shaun   five   whole   days   into   the   whole   trip,   if   i   see   something   blue   again   i’m   gonna   scream.   also,   caleb   got   super   sunburnt   which   was   a   little   funny,   miss   you   ⸻     ).

        his smile is tight, his chest fluttering with a sensation that is either nerves or adoration or both, he can't quite tell anymore.

       ed wants to go to china.

       stede . . . stede wants to . . . breathe. for a moment.

       which is what he'd set out to do, but ed had found him, and oh, stede doesn't have it in himself to regret it, not at all, not when they've kissed, and he feels wanted for once, really truly at home.

       it's good. it's great.

       it's too good.

       ed had walked in and brought a huge change - flipped the last part of his life that hadn't shifted, thanks ed - when he'd been busy sitting on the shore already trying to talk himself down from panic, because god, everything is changing. since ed had left him for calico jack, stede has been breaking down, and he hasn’t got any real rest since.

       he thinks he wants to go to china. he thinks he wants to follow ed anywhere. but there are a million thoughts buzzing through his head of why not   ( you ruin things, you don't deserve him, it's too far, it's new, it's scary - )

       he doesn't have a single foothold, does he? it's like he was standing on the shore one second and now he's drowning, taken by the waves. he's always just needs one place to stand, one little island, one bit of ground to hold onto in order to get by. but he's lost that, and now he's sort of . . . falling apart at the seams, just a little bit.

       yes, yes, yes, ed is saying. i think so, stede manages. mhm.

       god, he can't even think straight, and it's showing by the slight grimace on his face. it's not a happy smile, and it should be. he wants it to be. why does everything have to be so terribly difficult all of the time? just one second to breathe, please. maybe if he pushes himself a little further into ed's side, he can hold himself together. is he crying? he might be crying.

       ed moves to stand and in a fleeting panic - don't let them leave, talk it through, reach out - stede's hand grabs onto the fabric of his shirt, holding him in place.

“ c’mere, loverboy.” 

        stede doesn't do anything for a solid few seconds, eyes slightly widened and mouth slightly parted as he stares at ed, his entire mind shredding every thought he's every had and rewriting them all in a rapid few seconds, finally allowing his body to respond after this process is complete.

       loverboy. loverboy. lover -

       " oh - "   stede manages, rapidly blinking.   " um. "

       c'mere is a little bit easier to process, and he jumps a little as he realizes he's suppose to move, suddenly striding over towards the bed ed is sprawled across to join as requested. he crawls over ed, propping himself up on his elbows so he can look down at them, and reality only manages to catch up to him just then.

       " loverboy? "   

continued from   [ x ]   because stede is a gay & a himbo

stede grins widely, moving his hands to his hips, practically preening at ed's positive response. really, anyone who had seen his closet could reasonably deduct that he's a bit of a peacock - not to mention the second one. but that's neither here nor there - he's got a plan to enact.

" thank you, edward, "   stede replies. it's only polite to thank someone for a compliment after all.  

izzy doesn't respond in any manner that feels like a true response ― instead giving a noncommittal grunt , voice hoarse as ever from years of barking across decks. though he manages to pry his steely gaze off of whatever it was he had been focused on in order to glance at the other , remarking them with that same hardened expression he's worn for as long as they've known each other. most who don't know him would think his mood sour ; but edward is different. able to recognize every mirco - expression && attribute it to israel's limited range of emotions. not cross , but pleasantly subdued. as a dog would be stretched out across the carpet.