#ic. edward

[walkpathe-arch]

he must have lost consciousness,   between a rifle smashing against his knee and officers dragging him carelessly to the brig of one of his majesty's damn ships.  at the very least they weren't laughing on their way down,  nobody was:  the agony rippling through his bones had triggered the worst of his temper like a dynamite fuse being lit.  even bound and with nausea threatening to empty his stomach right there on deck,  edward had scratched,  bitten,  and attempted to throttle at least one blue coated bastard   (   no such luck,  the fellow's still breathing   ).  the whip he could have endured,  he's tasted it a few times on hornigold's ship,  the sneers too   (   boring,  unoriginal,  the same old drivel that could have been directed at any pirate   ),  but then it had gotten personal.  then they thought it would have been funny to tell him that a cage is the only fit place for someone like him.  and his mother both.  to make it absolutely clear it wasn't about pirates anymore.

the sound of a door closing causes his head to snap up from the floor,  where he was laying curled around his knee,  and agony jolts through him anew as he scrambles to sit with his back to the wall.  vision blurs and then doubles,  but @musecraft 's voice makes it above the ringing in his ears enough to be heard:  hey, how badly are you hurt? can you move? you think you can walk?

'  fuck —  '   the first thing out of his lips is a pained gasp,  followed by a few shaking breaths.  he almost wishes the man would bludgeon him on the head and return him to blissful darkness.   '  stay away from me.  '   he manages to hiss a weak warning,  finally.  but even with pain clenching his jaw and leeching his face of color,  he doesn't remember this one being among the laughing bastards above deck.  edward has learned to analyze a dangerous situation quickly and he's sure of it,  as much as he is sure that his knee is utterly fucked.  brows furrow then,  and he blinks in a desperate attempt to clear that awful fog from his eyes.   '  are you trying to fucking trick me?  '

[walkpathe-arch]

PROMPT.   OPEN

@musecraft​  (   as izzy   )  says:  at some point, you’ll have to convince yourself that you’re above right and wrong. morality doesn’t apply to you.

there is still some poor fucker's blood smudged about his jaw and part of his neck.   he lowers the rag all the same,  knuckles going white as he stifles the urge to throw it in the other's face.  the fight goes out of him quick,  however,  when he recalls the earlier raid.  edward hadn't even seen izzy coming,  he had just appeared at his side,  plunging his blade in the man's neck,  cutting through muscle and bone with no hesitation  —  edward had hesitated,  instead,  not dealing the finishing blow and the next thing he knew there was a gun raised towards his stomach,  too close to avoid,  too close to do anything but stare,  a little wide eyed,  grin wiped from his mouth.  fucking stupid,  you're going to get yourself killed.  turns out izzy was right,  after all. 

i stumbled,  caught me by surprise is all.  the lie would roll easily off his tongue,  but izzy would know better,  wouldn't he?  besides,  it really wouldn't do to lie to his face when he had just saved his life.   ❛  's not morality,  mate.  i'm not sorry he's fucking dead or anythin'.  i just—  don't think i can do it.  ❜  there is no horror or judgment when he looks up from where he is perched on the wooden stairs leading to the main deck.  see,  his morality is quite fucked,  no need to worry there.   ❛  that was some cool shit,  izzy.  ❜

[walkpathe-arch]

PROMPT.   OPEN    

@musecraft  (   as izzy   )  gets:  seven of pentacles  —  progress, learning from your mistakes, perseverance.

❛  thought you'd be up here.  ❜   he finds izzy in the crow's nest,  high above deck.  edward is not as fast or graceful as he used to be  (   or young,  for that matter   ),  but he settles beside him just the same.  for a while he just breathes,  slow,  unhurried,  gaze lost to the clouds blanketing the moon from proper view,  simply enjoying the chance to be doing this.  edward feels calmer than he has in months  —  years,  if he has to be honest  —  with izzy at his side and the certainty that he is not going anywhere bestowed upon him like a blessing,  so when he turns and settles a hand just below izzy's knee the rush of sorrow spearing through his heart is dimmer than it had been a few days ago.  

edward had come back safe and sound from his lone venture like he said he would,  and they had talked,  probably for longer than they ever had.  honesty poured out of each of them in turn,  some hard to hear,  but very much needed.  let's stop hurting each other,  yeah?  we've done enough of that  and  fuck off,  izzy.  twenty years and not a word of this?  he had said that chasing away tears with a startled laugh,  a breath distance away from izzy's mouth.  which he had kissed soundly,  moments later. 

still,  words now crawl up his throat feeling like pieces of broken glass.   ❛  does it still hurt?  ❜   guilt laden grimace casts the edges of his mouth downwards,  but it's an important question  (   even if it's coming in a bit late   )  and edward wants izzy to answer him truthfully.   his hand stays well enough away from his maimed foot,  though it sneaks gently down to his clothed calf,  finally coming to a stop there.

[walkpathe-arch]

PROMPT.   OPEN

@izzyhnds  (   as izzy  ) sent ' training ' to:  get pinned against the wall during a sparring match.

izzy might be smaller than him,   but when it comes to sword fighting he has better technical skill on his side and they are both very aware of it.  it's the reason he ends up winning most of their sparring matches,   after all,  but edward is not about to let him win without putting up one hell of a fight.  so he grits his teeth,  blocking a relentless series of attacks until he is forced back towards the quarterdeck,  not even bothering with trying to get a blow in.  it's when he manages to twist his body backwards to avoid another hit that he finally puts some distance between them.  

the ship sways gently beneath his feet,  not disrupting his balance in the slightest.  he moves with it,  bending his knees with a grin on his lips,  the one that usually spells trouble.  and as if on cue,  what he does next is impossibly reckless:  he drops the sword on the ground and lunges forward,  low enough to catch izzy around his middle and effectively pin him against the nearest wooden surface.   ❛  i believe i've won this round,  wouldn't you say?  ❜   edward looks a bit wild under the moonlight.  his hair messed up and laughter spilling from his lips,  the rush of both adrenaline and victory running through his body like the sea breeze.  

[walkpathe-arch]

PROMPT.   OPEN

@musecraft  (   as stede  ) sent ' training ' to:  pin edward against the wall during a sparring match.

❛  ow.  ❜   a startled breath is wrenched out of him,  followed suit by a laugh.  stede has him pinned against the mast,  a victorious grin spreading all over his face and edward feels lucid thought slip away from him.  he thinks he wouldn't mind losing to him like this,  little does it matter that he could easily swap their positions,  especially since stede has lowered his sword to press an arm against his chest.  truth is:  he got distracted,  lost the pace of their sparring lesson when moonlight caught stede's hair and shoulders just right,  allowing stede to disarm him.  not that edward is complaining,  far from it.  it's only a few seconds later that he looses his last shreds of sanity  —  with stede's lips brushing against his ear and a question voiced low.  do you yield?  now edward is truly and utterly fucked.   ❛  yeah,  you menace.  what you're going to do now that you have me at your mercy?  ❜  lips twitch in amusement, but his eyes are keen and dark, pupils blown wide.

[walkpathe-arch]

PROMPT.   OPEN

@musecraft​  (   as izzy   )  says:  i've gotten you this far. trust me just a little longer.

izzy usually stays out of it when he's like this.   on the blue side of moody,  with no energy left to get out there and face his crew  (   it's the fearless,  bloodthirsty legend they want to see,  and he can't do that right now   ).  he usually closes the door and makes sure no one else sees how much of the myth is just another fuckery,  one they staged together.  edward doesn't get up,  his eyes stay closed,  half hidden under the back of his hand resting on his forehead,  but he hears izzy just fine  —  though his fingers kind of burn with the itch to reach for his aching,  fucked up knee.  and he can't do that,  not until his first mate decides to leave the room,  or he is told to.  izzy has more than enough on his hands,  it would be unfair to have him worry about that too.  most days,  edward is aware of it.  most days. 

❛  i do trust you,  iz.  ❜   tone is earnest,  instead of dismissive or distracted.  little does the world know,  after all,  that without israel fucking hands blackbeard would probably be long dead by now.  so this is a thank you of sorts,  the only kind of it traded between them:  a little rough around the edges,  not really out there in the open.

[walkpathe-arch]

PROMPT.   OPEN

@musecraft  (   as stede  ) sent #81 to:  help edward style his hair.

his hair smell nice,   still a bit wet and cascading down his back with nothing to hold them up.  he closes his eyes,  every drop of tension to his muscles drained by the warm and nicely scented water of the bath stede had drawn for him.  he can't see stede,  sitting behind him on the bed as he is,  but he can feel his fingers carding through his hair,  thumbs pressing on his scalp in that way of his that makes edward melt under his beautiful,  clever hands.  fingers touch his neck and he doesn’t even stir,  let alone flinch away as he normally would.  no,  he leans back into it,  with a soft,  almost keening sound escaping his lips. 

❛  stede.  'm going to fall asleep right here and now if you keep this up.  ❜   tone heavy and slow,  a pleasant drowsiness already making its way through it.  and well,  with his awful track record when it comes to sleeping more than a few hours each night?  it wouldn't be such a bad idea to just drop his head on stede's shoulder and let sleep take him under.  edward thinks he could do that,  all wrapped up in lavender scent and stede's red robe.  the offer to help braid his hair or something forgotten in a corner of his mind. 

[walkpathe-arch]

PROMPT.   OPEN

@musecraft  (   as izzy  ) sent #52 to:  take a knife meant for edward.

under the spike of adrenaline still running through his veins there's something worse to be found.   it sets his heart racing,  a wild pulse beating in his ears  —  dread.  white hot,  stomach twisting and coiled tight around his chest in a grip that doesn't seem to be fading anytime soon.  he tastes blood in his mouth and his right shoulder hurts where it hit against a table earlier,  but edward minds nothing of it,  too busy wrenching the bathroom cabinet open to reach for the first aid kit.  the wound is not deep,  he tells himself again and again,  but his thoughts keep spilling all over,  warring with the memory of a knife suddenly glinting towards him and coming away wet with blood. not his own. there seemed to be so much of it to him, dripping on the floor between them (   some people bring knives to a fist fight indeed,  figures   ). 

the sole of his boot against broken glass makes an awful crunching sound,  but edward leaves the messed up pub behind him without a second thought to spare for it,  headed for the smaller private room in the back.  and to be completely fair,  izzy is alright.  sure,  there's a wound on his arm that hasn't quite stopped bleeding yet,  but he is awake and alive.  his mind just hasn't fully come to terms with it yet.   ❛  didn't have to do that,  y'know.  would've been fine.  knife wasn't even that big anyway—  ❜   he is talking too much,  too fast.  edward breathes in,  out,  and looks up from where he has knelt in front of him by the couch.  the same one he had told him not to move from a few minutes prior. it's honestly stupid how it makes him feel all giddy and warm, as if edward doesn't already know that izzy is good at doing what he tells him.   ❛  let me wrap that up,  yeah?  ❜   softer,  but also steadier,  that awful knot of fear easing away with every breath.  aid kit momentarily abandoned on the floor next to his feet,  edward wraps a hand around the back of izzy's neck,  needing to feel him solid and warm under his fingertips.