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@florastoker
Hugh Jackman and Dafne Keen accepting the MTV Award for Best Duo.
Sophie Turner photographed by David Schulze for InStyle (June 2017)
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes.”
I need you.
The words tore at his heart and he took in a shuddering inhale, his eyes averting, but tugging her a little closer against him. “Would it have been right,” he echoed softly. “Perhaps not. Perhaps it was my fault for taking anything else into consideration. Every time I have, it’s all gone wrong.” Giles sighed, and shook his head slowly. “You all don’t need me,” he told her quietly, no anger in his voice, but a firmness. “I daresay people have depended on me too much for too long. Nobody needs another person, not like water, not like air. When it comes down to it, we can survive on much less than we think. Perhaps not the same. Not nearly as well. But enough.”
A wan smile touched his lips. “I have never thought that I would have a long life expectancy. Men in my line of work, with my reputation…we don’t have much way of cheating death. Why do you think so many pirates craved eternal life, even if I don’t count myself in that number? One day, likely fairly soon, I will die, Flora, and you and my crew and all else who are close to me will move on with their lives, because that is what people do. I’m not saying I’m reaching for a way out, I’m only saying that what people think they need, when it was what they want, is only one criteria.”
Giles listened to her story in silence, his gaze nonjudgemental. He didn’t understand that extent of anxiety, but he understood that it troubled her, that it must be frightening. His broad brow creased slightly. “The men,” he asked quietly. Friends will always be greater than enemies? Oh, my darling. Live a while.
“My father also drank and swore,” he replied with a glance to her again. “It’s unpleasant, isn’t it?”
He shrugged, halting and slow. “Why is Cal different,” he echoed softly, and too many words flooded his tongue. “He doesn’t expect anything of me and expects me to expect none of the same. He can be a total ass, crude and harsh and about as subtle as a brick to the face. He’s obsessive and brooding and thinks he’s funny when he’s really not, and laughs like a donkey caught in a sawmill and smiles like a shark after a recent dental appointment. He’s infuriating, and frustrating, emotionally constipated and self absorbed, and he’s—-“
“He can draw really well, better than me, and he can beat me at chess on a good day, even though he never grew up playing it. He’s clever and sometimes he is funny. Sometimes he makes me laugh. He’s saved my life and I’ve saved his and when I see him I’m halfway caught between wanting to punch him in the face and embrace him, even though both might have a less than pleasant resolution. He came for me when no one else did, and he knows I’d do the same for him.”
“I don’t know, Flora, I just—-“
“I love him, even if I don’t always like him, I love him. Unshakably. Even when he makes me want to strangle him.”
" I love the bastard.”
"Why shouldn't you take anything else into consideration? It's not all about you on the island," Flora said, a little naively. She had no clue what it was like to have a crew, or people looking to you to make actions. She was a little taken aback at his want for not being needed. Flora would love to have that. Love to have someone depend on her, and need to talk to her at the end of the day. Hesitantly, she spoke, "may.. maybe we don't need other people like air or water. But we want them. I know what it is to be completely alone, and I don't want that. Not for anyone. We do need company, a friend of some kind. But if you don't want to be depended on or needed, I won't need you."
"I think, even after you're gone you'll be needed. You won't fade away, you never will. When I was taken from England, I lost my family. Maybe my father I didn't care so much about, and maybe my mother I can handle. But my brothers? To them, I'm as good as dead. H-Henry," her voice cracked, "he saw me be taken. They're probably not around any more, we were starving. But I still need them. I need Henry, and the others. And I haven't seen them for 10-something years. Don't think that others don't have a real attachment to you, because I assure they do." She felt like she'd been speaking for too long, and bit her lip, sighing, "sorry."
Flora hated thinking back to those days so much, yet she answered Giles easily. "When they thought I was old enough.. they started to try and... try and touch or kiss me. I hated it so much.." she felt tears prick in her eyes, but she didn't want to cry and so held them back. "It made me feel so small, and so.. so.. insignificant." She wasn't entirely certain on the words to use, but they felt like the best that fit. "Every time, I thought I was going to die. I couldn't breathe, and now whenever I'm anxious, it's like the weight of them is on my chest again, pushing at me, making me.. making me do things."
"Awful, from what I remember. He was destroying himself and our family. And the stink on his breath when he'd say goodnight. It was disgusting."
She grinned, just listening to the words that kept tumbling out about Cal. "That certainly sounds like you love him. Despite the bad sides, the good are worth it. It's nice you have someone who thinks that way about you, and can think that was about."
"So, you don't need him?" she returned to the earlier point, "because it sounds like you do."
Exploring // Flora - Frank
Frank saw that Flora tried to pull down her shirt to cover her stomach, and that a tinted red color appeared on her cheeks as she didn’t manage. Coming to think of it, Frank felt very warm, so he removed his arm from around her shoulder, so that he could shrug off his uniform coat. “Here,” he offered her the jacket, so she could cover up if she wanted to.
"I know, I know," he nodded, knowing that she in fact didn’t believe in herself as much as she should. "I can assure you, that if you weren’t on the Bishop with us, we’d all miss you. Not only just your presence, but your help."
Accepting it gratefully, saying a soft, "thank you," she let him help her into the coat. It swamped her, his 5'11" frame much larger than her petite 5'2". Pulling the sleeves down her arms so they covered her hands, she raised an eyebrow at him. "I might need to grow into it a little." But it served it's purpose, covering the exposed skin and making Flora far more comfortable.
She was grateful it was Frank she was helping, many others wouldn't have noticed that she wasn't used to displaying skin, or that she wasn't confident doing so. Frank seemed to know what she was thinking and feeling, and hadn't responded in a way to make her anxious before. She doubted he'd do it in the future.
She gave a warm and grateful smile, his words were so kind. Never failing in their kindness, really. "If you say so."
Exploring // Flora - Frank
Frank watched as Flora took his hand in hers again, examining the wound like she would have been a nurse. A small smile stretched across Frank’s lips and he nodded slowly. Flora had always been one of the helpful ones. If someone was hurting, feeling bad or anything, she’d always be there to make sure they got better as quick as possible.
When Flora ripped off a piece of her clothes to cover up his miniature wound, he couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Oh, Flora. You ruined it,” he chuckled, nodding down to her revealed stomach. But then she wrapped it around his finger, and he could already feel that the warm piece of cloth helped.
"Eventually? Flora, you’ve always been useful and helpful," he told her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder again, letting her walk closely to him.
Looking down at her already tattered shirt, she scrunched her button nose. "I think it was already pretty ruined..." However, the showing of skin somewhat embarrassed her, and she tried to pull down the fabric to cover herself, but it was to no avail. Shrugging it off, her ears warm and cheeks rosy, she welcomed Frank's weight on her shoulders again.
She rolled her eyes at his comment, smiling to herself. Frank's belief in her was heart warming, and occasionally even made her braver. It was a worryingly rare occurrence for Flora to be confident, but for some reason Frank seemed to trust her, and thought she could do it.
"You know I don't think so," Flora shrugged, "I help where I can, but I'm not needed or anything."
"Yes, those. I’m uncertain if they’re just dreams anymore."
"They're memories. Just the past. They still matter, even here."
Exploring // Flora - Frank
Frank’s laugh stilled softly when Flora mentioned that a silly mistake as the one he just made could cost his life. He swallowed and glanced down at the new drop of blood that oozed out of his finger. Once again he wiped it on his shirt before looking over at Flora again, hearing her rambling. “Hey,” he said, rubbing her arm again as a genuine smile formed on his lips. “I’m still alive, am I not?”
"I understand what you are saying, though. I should be more careful. For all I know, that plant could have been poisonous," Frank agreed, hoping it’d calm her down again, as it seems she started stressing for saying what she said.
She frowned slightly at the blood still coming from his finger. Could she remember overhearing Harvey saying anything? Something about pressure. Her attention was drawn away from the crimson that leaked onto his pale skin. There had once been a time when the idea of touch had repelled her, but with Frank being so careful all the time, it wasn't such a bad thought any more. "Yeah, yeah you are. Sorry."
Nodding slowly, Flora was relieved he understood her worries. Suddenly the surgeon's words popped into her head and she carefully reached for his hand, taking it in her own, applying a soft pressure before the cut. "You need to do this, so, uh, the blood stops oozing out. You might need to keep it covered so it doesn't get dirty either."
Flora let go for a minute, pulling at the already weakened seam of her shirt, she pulled, ripping the fabric higher than she had meant, revealing her flat stomach. Ignoring that for the moment, she took the cloth and wrapped it around his finger. She looked back upon her handiwork, fairly chuffed with her what she'd achieved. Glancing up to Frank, she grinned, "I knew I'd find something I'm slightly useful at doing eventually."
"Do you ever miss the other worlds we lived in? I find them difficult to recall most days."
"The other worlds? You mean when we were back on ship, just following orders?"
"I’m sure the world will rejoice."
"Where are we going?"
Exploring // Flora - Frank
"You’re welcome," Frank replied, using the hand which was resting on Flora’s shoulder, to gently rub up and down her arm. He knew that when it came to touching, Flora wasn’t that fond of it, so he always had to make sure to keep it as gently as possible.
As they kept strolling through the thick forest, Frank kept plucking leaves off of branches, totally absentmindedly. He’d just spot a leaf in the corner of his eye, then he’d reach his free hand out to just rip it off. It was kind of a soothing rhythm that he had developed over time.
Not being aware enough, Frank was about to pluck off a leaf, but instead he pressed his finger down on a thorn. A hiss left his mouth, and he yanked his hand back to himself. “Whoops,” he murmured to himself, wiping the tiny drop of blood onto his shirt. Glancing down at Flora, he shrugged and chuckled. “I’m so stupid sometimes.”
Unlike most others, Frank's touch did manage to soothe her instead of make her uncomfortable. She smiled to herself, hoping that he didn't see the warm little blush that had come with the closeness. Flora had been watching him pick at the leaves constantly, shelling them of the greenery until it was only a skeleton. He hadn't noticed which type he was picking from as he went, and so she made a noise when he went for the throned thicket.
She rolled her eyes and laughed lightly, "you better not let that clumsiness be your downfall on this island." Flora's smile faded a little, scared that the joke could come across as more insulting that anything. "I mean, I don't think it would, I shouldn't have said that, or anything.. It was a silly mistake the, uh, thorn, and me saying that! I should stop..." her voice trailed off as her face became closer to beetroot than a warm pink. Hiding her face in her hands, she apologised. "I'm sorry, just rambling on."
If you live long enough, you become tired of the fear. You become tired of seeing children run to hide behind their mothers’ skirts because of some old legend spread, more about the story than the fear. You become tired of the hush that falls in certain hours, in certain taverns, the dead, watchful silence like that that birds form when they know a hawk’s come cruising. You get tired of the pressure of maintaining a reputation, of straddling the line between fear and between love in order to protect your own. Something simple touched him that this gentle woman trusted him; saw in him nothing but something gentle in return. It was not true, his hands were drowned in red as were the rest, but with her for a moment, he could pretend that he was. Flora was delicate in many senses, and when he was with her, he became exquisitely aware of how her life rested in his hands, but in a greater sense, so too did his with hers. Innocuous in appearance, she had his dagger still, and had she the inclination; it would take no more than a second for it to find his heart. So trust came in both ways, knitting them together.
The righteous man turned gentle. Hands that had broken and rebuilt touched only with absolute care, adjusting with his arm still around her, his body aching but her warmth, her presence, making it worth it. “You misunderstand me, Flora, I do not mean to say you are a saint,” he murmured softly, “only that this is what you are, who you are. We can all try to improve, but to an extent, we have to accept ourselves, and there’s so much good in you.” A wan smile touched his features as she spoke. “That is why I am me,” he echoed quietly, as if pulling the words from very far away, “but I’m tired.” There was a deep exhaustion in his eyes, mingling with his anguish, with pain. It was the eyes of someone who had reached their utmost limit and could suffer no more, but then, he knew how limits could often extend. When a person did not have a choice, they could endure the unendurable. “I didn’t want to come back this time, it would have been so easy,” he said honestly, in a bare whisper. He smiled sadly, his eyes heavy-lidded. “To sleep—-“
“But reality is reality, and that’s no longer mine. I had to find my feet, or I’ll live crippled, alive, but shattered in who I am, and I won’t be of any use, least of all to myself. But the feeling…the feeling…being pulled back to life every time…it’s like….dragging yourself over broken glass. Every time you come back, you leave pieces of yourself behind. Every time, you come back, it’s harder. Takes longer. And I’m…I’m so tired.”
He didn’t say what was clearly written in his eyes. Next time, he would not be able to come back.
Grateful for the distraction, he managed another wan smile. “Your breathing? You forgot how? Come now, Flora, I know you’re cleverer than that,” he teased gently. “As for people not liking me, you’d be surprised. I have many enemies, but luckily back in my territory, my allies were greater. Kept me alive, barely, but alive. Made it a tricky proposition to remove me, which I was grateful for.” A soft laugh, silvery and honest escaped him, sullied only by the wince of pain that ran through him as he did. His drugs were wearing off and his pain was increasing, but he did his best to keep it from his eyes.
“Taught you to drink and swear,” he stated with a faint edge of amusement. “Sounds like him, he’s a champion at both. And did you swear?” He managed a small, halted shrug at her question. “Most of us are quite close or have gotten quite close. When it’s us against the fleets of the world, you tend to make some allies, even if you’re rivals as well and Cal…well, Cal…” He hesitated, aware of the sentiment in his voice, the blatant flashing of a weak spot. “Cal’s different,” he finished simply. “To me. Cal’s different.”
“Yes,” he replied without thinking, and then paused, surprised at himself. He thought of the way Dante’s lips curved against his when he smiled into a kiss, the silken brush of his hair against his fingertips. “It meant something. As for the man of God, one Edmund Poe? You know him? Tall, a bit gloomy, but he’s handsome when he smiles.”
His brow creased at her statement, and despite the fact that his eyes were a little glassy with pain, distracted, there was clarity in them. “It’s my list,” he replied quietly. “And I get to decide who gets to be on it.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it again, lightly.
“Yes?”
She didn't know how to take his words. When you had been treated bow Flora had been so often, you become hardened to outside input. The words still had affect, when she was alone and all the doubts that had been cast on her came to the surface. She didn't see herself as strong, but in a way, keeping herself happy to everyone else was her strength. Only in times of real doubt and worry did she ask for help, but she was always willing to give it. Always overwhelmingly eager to help those in need. "I don't believe you think I'm a saint. I don't want anyone thinking of me that way. And there may be some good in me. But good can always turn bad, and I may not always be like this. So I am not, and never will be, perfect." Her features had become concentrated, her eyebrows drawn close, mouth in a line. Giles spoke of his exhaustion, and her visage softened, her image lifting. Flora's voice cracked a little, but it was soft and gentle. "it may have been easier, yes, but would it have been right? Would you have been okay leaving your crew and the others that love you?" She didn't mean to pose potentially hard questions on him when he was clearly tired and worn, but Flora wanted him to think back to this conversation if he ever felt the same way, and hoped that he wouldn't take the easy way.
His words almost drew tears to her eyes, the man she saw so strong yet gentle, was broken. She breathed slowly against him, letting him get everything he had to say out. "Is it worth it? Is it worth being dragged over broken glass to live?" Lifting her eyes from the horizon to Giles she said, "because I think it is, I think you are needed. You are need by your crew. I need you." She didn't completely realise what he was saying, that next time it would have to be the easier route, but Flora said, "unless there is no other way. You should never take the easier route." She attempted a brief smile, "and that's coming from me."
"You'd be surprised," Flora said with a wry but good natured smile, "when I get especially nervous, I just feel like there isn't enough air in the world to breathe. My body just tightens, and I either have to find a way to calm down or have someone to help me. It started when I was first on a ship, I was only nine. But then it started happening more and more the older I got. The, uh, men on the ship," Flora paused, unsure as to why she'd been explaining it for so long, "never mind. He just helps me." She nodded as she spoke, "friends will always be greater than enemies, even if I have no enemies to take experience from."
"No, I said damn or something, but he told me to say something worse, but it reminded me too much like my father, the booze and swearing, so I stopped." Flora tilted her head a little, "why is he different?"
She grinned at his reaction, "well that's good Not that it wouldn't be if it didn't. It's all good, but, uh.." Flora felt herself rambling, and cringed, blushing. Most things intimate garnered this reaction from her - anywhere from a kiss to something more. "Yes, I do know him. Not that well, but he seems very nice."
Flora rolled her eyes, and squeezed back, "yes."
"How astute. Perhaps you aren’t stupid after all."
"Maybe not."
she wanted everything but settled for nothing (x)
Exploring // Flora - Frank
In the corner of Frank’s eye, he had taken note of how Flora had inched closer since they first started walking. He sensed that she didn’t feel safe, or at least a little anxious. Remembering her past, Frank figured that he had to do something to stop her from eventually panicking. He knew she’d improved, as she told him herself earlier, but one would never know.
"I know," Frank smiled again, his eyes following their feathery friend as it flapped its winged, ready to take off from its branch. He silently wished there were more creatures like that on the island, and less of the dangerous and deadly ones.
"I’m not an expert on birds, but I am pretty certain that this one doesn’t exist at home," he chuckled briefly before he finally wrapped his arm around Flora’s shoulder, thinking that it would make her feel safer as they continued walking towards camp.
The bird took off, and once again the forest was only filled with mossy greens and browns, with shafts of light filtering through the trees. The rarity of beauty in the forest made them even more special, random bright colours contrasting with the woods.
They'd continued into the forest, but Flora was finding herself more relaxed as she became accustomed to it. It was probably ridiculous how after so long she was scared of the woods, but it was something she'd gotten used to. But with Frank there, she felt a little safer. He seemed to notice how she was scared, and wrapped is arm around her.
The weight of his arm on her shoulders was a comfortable one, and she knew why he'd done it. Flora had told him everything there was to know about her, to a certain extent. She'd explained why touch made her nervous, and how her anxiety peaked easily, and that had somehow allowed her to get closer to him. She didn't mind his touch, because she believed her could never do what other men had done. Softly speaking, she nestled in to his touch, "thank you."
Exploring // Flora - Frank
As they were walking along, Frank absentmindedly plucked leaves from the branches that he passed. It was a habit he had always had, why he did not know. He held the leaf in his hand as Flora spoke, piece by piece stripping it down so only the ‘skeleton of the leaf’ remained. And then he plucked a new one, doing it repeatedly.
Frank kept smiling and nodded as he laughed softly. “Yes, they would think us very mad indeed,” he glanced at Flora. It was nice to see her smile. A happy woman made a happy world. “I couldn’t have agreed more. There are so many things on this island that I never knew even existed,” he smiled, his entire face glowing of fascination. He looked at Flora again and lightly nudged his shoulder against hers. “Like that,” he whispered, pointing at a bird sitting on a branch further up in one of the trees. It was definitely a bird out of the ordinary, with it’s flaming red feathers, and yellow beak.
They had continued walking, moving more into the forest. She subconsciously moved a little closer next to him. As the trees got more dense, Flora got more nervous. She really couldn't stand the sense of not knowing what was in front or behind her and was unknowingly getting closer to Frank for protection.
She briefly looked at him, a grin appearing at the glow in his face. Him marvelling the world around them distracted her, and she dropped a little of the tension in her body. He pointed at the little bird, so unique in it's array of colours. Flora laughed lightly as the bird hopped around the branch, singing it's little tune. Her eyes darted back to him and she sighed, her frame relaxing more, "it's beautiful."
"Some nights, I think I already have."
Flora sat back, unsure of how to respond.