_______________Ely_______________
I need my golden crown of sorrow, My bloody sword to swing, My empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology…
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
~ Our Flag Means Death ~ Semi - S e l e c t i v e , OC , 18+. and private RP blog ~
B i o g r a p h y ~ R e g u l a t i o n s ~ I n t e r e s t - t r a c k e r
tatteredxsails:
“That’s because you’re smart,” Ed grinned at them regardless. “Just wait.”
He patted Ely on the shoulder and straightened up to stick his head out of the cabin. A few barked orders later, the ship was in motion, searching for something to fit the captain’s orders.
Ed turned back to look at Ely, “Get out there and pull your weight, kid. You’ll see what I’m thinking once we have ourselves a target.”
Ely looked at Ed, trying to piece together what exactly this new plan was. After determining that they’d never be able to read between the lines enough to deduce that, they gave a conclusive nod of their head and hurried past him to get on with work.
The whole time they felt on edge, turning over theories and ideas- potential risks. They liked to have a solid understanding of what was going on. They hated surprises and this felt distinctly like one. Still, they pushed all that aside when a ship was spotted on the horizon and Ely went barrelling to the Captains quarters to inform Ed.
tatteredxsails:
“Well, getting cleaned up would be as good a place as any,” Eddie said, picking at some more of the youth’s hair. “Getting this all tamed. Then… there are powders and makeups. Clothes. Quite the variety of clothes, depending on the cut you like. I’ve always been partial to pants, myself, but there’s something to be said for a nice skirt now and again.”
She glanced up towards her meager collection of clothes, “I’m afraid I’m a bit practical. Maybe we can find ourselves a nice ship to raid and rummage through their wardrobes, mm?”
They’ve stopped their wriggling at Ed unpicking their matted hair now, far too wrapped up in her words for that to bother them. The thought of all of that sends a flutter of butterflies through Elys chest.
They like their clothes. The trousers are practical, comfy, brown and one of the first things Ely had bought for themselves after joining the crew. The t-shirt had been a well cherished hand me down from Ed and was hidden under a rough yet well worn jumper that they’d bought along with the trousers. Their scuffed boots were the only thing they still had from the Hospital and, while that sometimes sent them on a spiral, they’d been moulded perfectly to the shape of Elys feet. It was comfortable and practical… but that didn’t mean they didn’t want to try something else.
“You don’t have to do that…” They say, giving a cautious look backwards and up at Ed.
tatteredxsails:
There was one thing in the world that Edward did not tolerate well – that was an exaggeration. There were plenty of things. But there was something that outstripped the rest.
Rejection. He felt the sting of it so keenly that he didn’t really notice Ely’s body language and clear discomfort. He snorted through his nose and let go of the youth.
“Yeah, fine. Go do your work or whatever if that’s what you fucking want,” he muttered and turned away from Ely. The kid would rather be anywhere else, didn’t need him? Fuck it, fine. Made sense. No one actually wanted anything to do with him if it wasn’t… on some kind of orders.
He turned away from Ely and looked for somehing to do with his hands.
He didn’t yell or raise a hand to them and yet this reaction was somehow so much worse. It made Ely feel like they’d suddenly been thrust out from the ship in a dingy and left stranded in the ocean with a storm rolling in, struggling to stay afloat and work out a way back to shore. They weren’t sure what it was they’d said or what exactly the feeling emanating from Ed was but it was… wrong.
Cautiously and wide eyed, Ely watched Ed turn away from them. They dug their fingers into the mattress behind them and tried to come up with something- some plan for survival. Anything.
“Y-you’re upset…” They note, voice flat and audible despite the initial wobble. A younger Ely would have turned tail and ran away, following Eds instruction but, despite their words, Ely is comfortable with Ed. He is the closest thing to a parent they’ve got and that affords them some flexibility even if they won’t admit it out loud.
“I’ve upset you. I’m sorry…”
tatteredxsails:
Alma had no idea that her sense of being watched was simply a sense that someone else was present – the “being watched” aspect was born of the softly ingrained paranoia of a child that had been under the supervision of a governess of a certain personality.
The youth that peeked out of a cupboard had certainly not been watching her. They didn’t look like they’d been watching much of anything aside from the inside of the cupboard.
“It’s my dad’s ship,” she answered them somewhat bluntly. “I think I can go wherever I like.”
She had complicated feelings about calling Stede her dad. Dad was even more familiar than ‘father’ – but it felt particularly snooty to say something along the lines of 'my father’s ship’. She didn’t want to come off as too snooty and too good to the pirates.
It was surprising that there was another child, or at least youth, here. Alma felt some distant sting of replacement. So Stede could have the time for them but not for her…? She didn’t know how true that was. For all that she knew, Stede didn’t have the time of day for them and that was why they were sitting down here in a cupboard. But she couldn’t help but imagine him doing something that had been so utterly mundane to her, but that she missed greatly: reading a bedtime story.
“Who are you?”
The words hit them like a knife to the chest, filling their lungs with blood and causing their breath to burn them from the inside out. Ely had suffered all number of pains in their life but somehow this was so much worse than anything some teacher at the Hospital could inflict on them. They take a half stumbled step backwards as the impact hits them.
It was her dad’s ship. It wasn’t Ely’s dad’s ship. It was hers. By all accounts, this girl didn’t even seem to know who they were. That just makes the blade turn in their chest, tearing at their flesh because they know without a doubt who she is. This was Alma- Stede Bonnets oldest child. They’d heard a lot about her and were relatively sure that the windowless cell they called a bedroom had originally been made for her. The decorative flowers mixed in with little ships around the skirting boards and door seemingly suggested so.
“Oh… I-I’m just the uh… the cabin kid.” They swallow back the pain, continuing to tug at their sleeves. “I didn’t mean anything by it, miss. Just that there’s some dangerous stuff down here. Figured you’d want to be with your-… your dad.”
The last bit sticks in their throat like the blood rising from their lungs is trapping it. They curse themselves for slipping into manners they hadn’t properly used in years but the way she holds herself and talks with such confidence digs the knife straight into a buried memory.
tatteredxsails:
Stede raised his eyebrows and took a moment of consideration before he answered, “No, no, no need to apologize. I hadn’t thought about it like that. You know, there are different versions of the story. In some of them, it wasn’t Apollo that killed him… it was a gust of wind. It was someone else’s jealousy over their love. Even in the ones where Apollo killed him, it wasn’t… intentional. Malicious. But I suppose that doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?”
Ely quietly listened to Stede speaking. They were deeply intrigued and wanted to learn more but couldn’t help feeling that they were over stepping a mark. Surely, they couldn’t just stand around looking at books and nattering. They never normally talked this much. It had taken Ed months to wheedle any form of familiar expression from them. It was strange that this subject out of everything had unlocked that smothered box of speech.
“I suppose…” Their voice is quiet now, fading off at the end. “Did you-… did you need anything from me while I’m here?”
tatteredxsails:
Oh, fuck it.
“Ely…”
Stede slipped his arm around the crying youth and pulled them close to his side, using his other hand to guide their head to his shoulder. There was a good chance that they’d start to fight him like a wet cat in a bag as soon as he got an arm around them, and that was something that he was willing to risk.
Stede was not a good father. He never had been, really. He could play with his kids, sure, but he’d never been a pillar of dependability. He remembered feeling incredibly awkward and out of place when his daughter had skinned her knee while out on a walk with him. The crying made him freeze up and immediately second guess everything that he could possibly do. He supposed that it had worked out in the end, when he had finally stumbled upon treating her exactly as he wished he’d been treated by his family instead of how he actually was. He’d scooped her up. Put her head on his shoulder. Rubbed her back. He didn’t need to say anything about it, really. Being told it would be alright made one feel like they were overreacting and the pain didn’t matter. But just… being there. Holding. That was what Stede had always wanted and what he had tried to give her.
What he was trying to give Ely.
They visibly tense, shoulders hunching in response to Stede slipping an arm around them. For a moment even they’re not sure how they’re going to react. They could react with violence. Their sword still sits just a few steps away from them, begging them to use it. It’s what they’d been taught to do in the last few months- a sure fire way of handling any unwanted emotions and making sure it didn’t come back to haunt them… but Ely had already decided against that. They knew they couldn’t hurt Stede. They didn’t even really want to anymore.
Instead, they melted into his embrace and turned their face towards his chest. Stede might not have been the best father in the world but he was what they had. He’d never raised a hand to them, he was doing his best to make amends and here he was putting up with their drunk display of emotion. That was all they really needed in the end and they were willing to try to move on from what he’d done in an attempt to keep that even if they couldn’t forgive or forget.
Eventually, the tears subsided but Ely still made no attempt to move.
“Sorry…” They whispered quietly, sniffling.
pyratezlife:
“It’s difficult to notice when you’re young, but as you get older and gain more trust and responsibility, that freedom becomes more apparent than ever.” She’d crewed with Edward, once upon a time, though not for long. He was one of the more fair captains in the game. Each got their share of the loot, and outside of a few rules mostly meant to keep the peace, crew were basically allowed to do as they pleased so long as they got their work done.
Cheerful, she knocked her hip lightly against the younger’s, chirping, teasing, “Try and look on the bright side sometimes. It makes life oodles more fun, ducky!” Ely was a fun one though, for all their nervous tendencies - they’d grow out of that, after all.
They thought they were quite optimistic. It certainly seemed like that when they were put up against the gloomy members of Blackbeards crew. Everything was still so new to Ely. The world seemed to be full of wonder that only they could see… but perhaps they weren’t quite as bright and shiny as they thought.
“I like that I got to choose who I work for. I guess that’s freedom.” They offer her a hesitant smile. Sure, they didn’t really know whose ship it was they’d snuck on to to begin with but they could leave at any port they wanted. No doubt they’d have oodles of choice now that they’d had experience working for the legendary Blackbeard.
tatteredxsails:
Iraia puffed through her nose. Sugar was a staple, a necessity, aboard the ship – considering Edward’s taste for it. More sugar wasn’t going to piss the captain off. The only one who might be remotely pissed was Izzy, and even then… it would take off some pressure to provide.
She rocked with the raise of Ely’s shoulder and shook her head. She wasn’t particularly in the mood to go and ask either of the parents that she couldn’t really stand to be around in that moment. She was interested in learning what exactly it was Ely was doing.
Iraia nudged them back and pointed at the ledger again.
There was a pricking sensation at the back of their neck that something was off. Ely wasn’t usually good at reading between the lines but sometimes they felt like they had a sixth sense specifically for Iraia. They risk looking at her for a moment in response to her irritation and then follow her finger back down to the ledger.
“Oh… uh, just working. Counting stock. I like to do it a few days before port so its ready to go and you can just sort of estimate the excess.” They explain, voice tapering off as they consider what they’re going to say next.
“Is something up?” They’d been hidden away behind the barrels in this cupboard for most of the day, blissfully ignorant to the arguments unfolding between their parents.
tatteredxsails:
“You’ve known me awhile, Ely. I don’t bullshit. Not you. Not him. Not anyone,” Izzy took his hand back and looked down at the bottle of rum in his hand. What happened to Ed had been an inevitability and it had been exactly what he’d wanted – but how do you tell that to a kid clearly intent on shouldering all of the responsibility for it? He raised the bottle to his lips and took a deep drink. He’d already thought about not letting the kid hold onto it, but the logistics of that… weren’t in the bottom of the bottle.
He offered it over to Ely, “You’re not their Captain. Didn’t matter what you’d suggested. The cannonball was convenient. If you hadn’t suggested it, someone else would have. Jim would have grabbed it on their own.”
The truth. That was going to be the way of it. He didn’t bullshit anyone. He might keep things behind his teeth, but….
“He wanted this, you know that, don’t you?”
Ely follows the bottle as Izzy lifts it, refusing to look directly at the man beside them. They’d thought about drinking- a brief flitting thought in the hurricane of emotion surrounding them. They hadn’t been able to pull themself together enough even to go hunting for a bottle. It was like they were drowning, too deep underwater to reach out a hand even for that.
They’re about to protest Izzys argument, say that they could have put themselves in the way. They could have done something. Then Izzy offers them the bottle they’d been so focussed on and they stop.
A sickening memory claws it way to the surface and forces a burning breath into their chest. They’d only drank a few times before and it had always been with Ed. A little searing sip on their presumed birthday or a choked down glass at a tavern after a raid that had sent Ed reeling as they coughed. They can’t help their chin warbling or their bottom lip protruding ominously. They’d never felt more like a kid.
Ely grabbed the bottle with shaking hands and took a swig- enjoying the usually painful burn.
“… but I didn’t.” It’s quiet and petulant, like they believe they could some how stave off death with a temper tantrum. They know it’s an absurd thing to say but they’re treading a river of absurdity right now.
“N-nobody ever asks me before leaving.”
pyratezlife:
Anne watched Ely with a keen eye, noting the flow of emotions they seemed to be experience with concern and interest alike. Even a blind fool could see that they were lying about being alright, but the question was, did she let it go or did she push?
She had always been nosy. So it’s not a difficult decision at all.
“I’d like to know.” she said gently. Besides, she needed to know the details to know just what was wrong, just what had happened. Once more, she cursed herself for being out of the game and running an antique store when evidently something big had happened.
Anne wouldn’t try to push too far, but even how much Ely would be able to share could tell a lot about how badly hurt the other was. Gosh, she might just have to kill Ed Teach, wouldn’t she? Gently, “Whatever you can share.”
Ely was still dressed in the typical outfit of Blackbeards crew that they’d forced themselves into since shit had hit the fan. It was uncomfortable with far too many seams and clung to them like a smothering second skin even if the grey t-shirt was too big as a hand-me-down from Ed. They hated it altogether but most of all they missed their jumper. They missed the familiarity of being able to push their thumbs through the knots of wool and run the rough fabric groundingly against their palms. Instead, they clenched their fists, tugged at their leather sleeves and did their best to pull themselves together.
“Stede left.” The began on a heavy breath.
“And Blackbeard… I think he loved him.” Their voice is anxious and hesitant. They wouldn’t have been able to say something like that a week ago without risking physical harm. The use of ’Blackbeard’ instead of the familial ’Ed’ is enough to indicate what sort of monster they’d face for speaking about this.
“So he… went off the deep end, I-I guess. He got angry. Really angry at everyone. I-I thought I’d seen him angry before… at me… but…” They stare into the middle distance as they speak, shaking their head to indicate that what they thought they’d seen before was nothing in comparison to what they experienced post-Stede.