(mm) Kraken!ed - Tumblr Posts
Edward. Fucking. Teach.
How it is everything keeps coming around back to him, Anne might never know. Jack’s in town? It’s Teach. Jack’s left town? It’s Teach. There’s been a raid ashore already? Teach. It’s exhausting in its own way. She’d heard he was looking for her and so had hung back to hear him out, strictly on the grounds that Jack was hot and cold about him—and anyone Jack runs cold on, Anne tends to like.
He looks like hell. His beard be damned; there are bags under his eyes, which are dead-looking besides, and a gauntness to his face that speaks of tragedy. Anne ought to know. She’s hiding the same traits behind sullenness and the low-sitting brim of her hat.
The pint slides a bit past Anne; she doesn’t move to stop it, though she does return it when he takes a seat.
“Don’t drink,” she informs him, but there’s no bite in her voice. It’s a fact she says like a fact. She hunches over the table, elbows resting on it, and examines him for a moment more. Whatever it is he’s for, it has nothing to do with the things she’s hiding. Satisfied by this she nods once and looks away, pale eyes scanning the tavern restlessly.
“En’t gonna stab ye ‘less ye pull first.” A punch, a bite, a knee to the dick, sure. But stabbing’s more permanent and people are less inclined to move past it. “Speak yer piece, Teach. I’m dyin from the anticipation of it.”
The sarcasm in her voice is thicker even than her accent. Sea glass green eyes cut back to Teach and away again, one finger picking at the leather ring on her thumb: anyone who knows her can see the anxiety behind the movements, but few know her so well. (Even fewer now, though she hasn’t heard the news of Jack’s passing to know that for herself.)
Closed starter for @neverhangd:
Ed's of course familiar with Anne...
thanks to her history with Jack. He's honestly afraid of gettin' punch in the fuckin mouth...last she would've known, he and Jack were best mates for life. He's not even sure if she knows of Jack's "unfortunate" passing, and she definitely doesn't know that Ed now agrees with her assessment that he was a spineless sack of shit.
Fuck, he's about to get his arse handed to him.
He'd never known the details of their relationship but he knew Jack was a bit of an arse during those times. "Bit" is an understatement, actually. But things have been rough these past months since...he left...the ocean has been merciless. He needs all the help he can get as the Spanish have been on their tails and Anne Bonny happens to be the most skilled pirates in the area.
Ed had been told she'd be at this particular tavern, and he approaches with caution. He looks like...hell, really. Beard has grown back somewhat but nowhere near its former glory. He looks like a man that has no will to live but is still trying. He sets a pint down on the table and scoots it towards her, hoping it'll soften the blow a bit. She's gonna kill him, might as well get it over with.
"I know you must wonder what the fuck I'm doin' here, but at least hear me out before ya stab me, yea?"
A partnership of sorts. Fucker knows the exact goddamn words to say to her, doesn't he? He says the p-word and her eyes are back on his face, as if drawn there by a magnet. He wants...not to trade favors...but to...what? She can't make heads or tails of it for a moment, disgust and confusion writ plainly on her face. And then they both clear as she understands him: he's looking for a second. Anne's finger stops its picking and she sits up a bit straighter, looking Ed dead in the face.
What happened to Hands? She knows she shouldn't spit in the face of an opportunity like this--what a way to start a legacy, as second to none other than Blackbeard himself!--but that question haunts her. She doesn't know the man well, but she knows the stories: folks like that don't just disappear without a word. The question's one of trust, but not for trying: for judgement. Ed or Hands? Which has the better head for it?
Only one's a living legend.
"I don't come easy no more. Got demands ye gotta meet 'fore I'll sign yer Articles," she warns him. There's an independence she needs to express and establish now: the sooner it's there, the sooner she can start building up a guard around it. Boundaries. A first time for everything. "Won't ask more'n the crew's goin share, but I want my own room. Four walls and a door ye can lock from the inside. Same for a washin' room once a month. And a bed, not a fuckin hammock. With a mattress and blankets and all. Don't fuck me on this and I'm yours. Provisionally."
Ed visibly relaxes a bit...
once Anne speaks, able to quickly realize that she's not as pissed at him as he feared. He shrugs, pulling the pint back over to himself and taking a sip of it...no sense wasting a perfectly good brew. When she promises not to harm him unless he does somethin' fuckin foolish, he nods, grateful. The rest of her words bring a slight chuckle to him, and he knows getting straight to the point is the smartest thing to do now.
Ed's not sure bringing Jack up is the best idea, at least not right away. If Anne wants to know if he's still loyal to the man, he's sure she'll ask. Never was one to mince words so far as he could tell. So, he goes for the true purpose of his visit instead, hoping he comes off convincing enough. "Well, was hoping we could maybe form a bit of a partnership of sorts." He begins, gauging her expression as he talks.
"Bad storms lately, and the Spanish have fuckin' ravaged this area. They've been on us for ages, too. Two heads are better than one, yea? I'm runnin' a bloody skeleton crew as it is. Thought we could help each other out a bit." Ed knows Anne's had her own struggles lately and hopes that'll influence her decision. It'll mostly depend on if she's able to trust him, or at least willing to try. He might not always have the best judgment when it comes to friendships, but his reputation as a brilliant strategist was not earned by mistake. The two of them could be a right force to be reckoned with.