WHO: Max & Various WHAT: A little catch-all post, mmaybe some open starters to come but I'll edit if so. WHEN: Ambiguously Harvestmere WHERE: Places NOTES: Black Sails spoilers and discussion of slavery in the thread with Silver.
The corners of her mouth pinch, just so. How much she wants to agree, to act as though she could not already see the point at which such a friendship would break. Imagine this optimistic proposal from the John Silver who left for Charles Town beholden to no one, instead of the one who came back, bound hand and foot to something larger than himself. She'd have thought less of it; it might have been more true. Nowadays, she has no trouble seeing the end of things.
"The Venatori have made Flint's war unavoidable, yes. If Tevinter burns itself to the ground, you will not find me wasting my tears over its ashes." Tevinter has never been her goal; only the surest means to an end.
"But there will come a time when it is possible for peace and prosperity and stability to return to Nascere again — when this violence ceases to be a necessity and becomes a choice. How do you imagine Captain Flint will choose then?"
There are things John could say. He knows all the words, has heard Flint unspool them in the quiet space between them as the sea rocks the dingy beneath their feet. John understands what they are trying to do. But he does not find a place for them here in the space between him and Max. Max is not going to be roused to their cause this way. John has tried once before, and he has not yet learned which angle would sway her.
Perhaps she would understand better if she knew what John was. But that is still too great a weapon to ever hand Max. The fragile truce they've brokered between them can't sustain the kind of secret that carries John's life along with it. He is an apostate. He can still suffer greatly for that.
"We are committed to building something better," John tries, and there's some grim humor at the altruism glowing within those words. "Do you think I don't want to come out the other side of this to something stable enough to make a life on?"
After they've thrown it all over. After they've delivered a better system unto this land. That's when they all must begin to rebuild, when the dream Flint has becomes real. John's fingers tap at the table beside his now-empty cup. He does not look down at the stump, what's left of his leg, does not think of what comes next for him.
"He knows when to stop fighting. If you don't believe that of him, you must believe it of me."
Max's chin tilts, just so. It isn't as if she imagined John eager to risk his own skin, of course, but for all that he has become intwined with Flint's crew, she had never quite pictured him putting down roots. (There was a woman, wasn't there? Rumors that had seemed to Max out of character in much the same way. What if neither were?)
"I do." Softer, as if deciding only as the words leave her lips. "I do believe that of you."
Not of Flint. But Flint's friendship isn't what she's after today. Flint's won't be the one tested.
"Perhaps as long as that we have that in common, we need not be at odds."
To think, if things had gone differently in the beginning—
It was always about security in some form or another. He had never quite explained that to Max. There hadn't been time, and afterwards it hadn't seemed to matter. He'd given up his share, so whatever he'd planned for it was severed from him as thoroughly as his leg had been. Freedom, comfort, all of it, he'd have to achieve it by different, more difficult means.
Madi. At the end of all of this, she waits for him.
"I know you have people you wish to provide for," John says, careful of the tone, the expression on his face. He does not mean this as a threat. "I am much the same."
The closest John will come to acknowledging Madi in Max's presence: couched in ambiguous phrasing that could so easily apply to his crew, to the number of pirates fighting back on Nassau. The similarity is pleasing to him, reassuring in a way he does not like to fully consider. That sameness has always been there, which is truly what makes this difficult, makes them both wary of each other. Moreso than ever these days, with Max's priorities having shifted in a way John hadn't anticipated.
"All of which to say, I'd prefer not to be at odds with you."
For many reasons, anywhere between genuine appreciation and dreading the idea of having to constantly account for her as a threat to his machinations. But it all came to the same thing, really: it would be nice to be on more even footing with her.
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The corners of her mouth pinch, just so. How much she wants to agree, to act as though she could not already see the point at which such a friendship would break. Imagine this optimistic proposal from the John Silver who left for Charles Town beholden to no one, instead of the one who came back, bound hand and foot to something larger than himself. She'd have thought less of it; it might have been more true. Nowadays, she has no trouble seeing the end of things.
"The Venatori have made Flint's war unavoidable, yes. If Tevinter burns itself to the ground, you will not find me wasting my tears over its ashes." Tevinter has never been her goal; only the surest means to an end.
"But there will come a time when it is possible for peace and prosperity and stability to return to Nascere again — when this violence ceases to be a necessity and becomes a choice. How do you imagine Captain Flint will choose then?"
And how will John?
no subject
Perhaps she would understand better if she knew what John was. But that is still too great a weapon to ever hand Max. The fragile truce they've brokered between them can't sustain the kind of secret that carries John's life along with it. He is an apostate. He can still suffer greatly for that.
"We are committed to building something better," John tries, and there's some grim humor at the altruism glowing within those words. "Do you think I don't want to come out the other side of this to something stable enough to make a life on?"
After they've thrown it all over. After they've delivered a better system unto this land. That's when they all must begin to rebuild, when the dream Flint has becomes real. John's fingers tap at the table beside his now-empty cup. He does not look down at the stump, what's left of his leg, does not think of what comes next for him.
"He knows when to stop fighting. If you don't believe that of him, you must believe it of me."
no subject
"I do." Softer, as if deciding only as the words leave her lips. "I do believe that of you."
Not of Flint. But Flint's friendship isn't what she's after today. Flint's won't be the one tested.
"Perhaps as long as that we have that in common, we need not be at odds."
no subject
It was always about security in some form or another. He had never quite explained that to Max. There hadn't been time, and afterwards it hadn't seemed to matter. He'd given up his share, so whatever he'd planned for it was severed from him as thoroughly as his leg had been. Freedom, comfort, all of it, he'd have to achieve it by different, more difficult means.
Madi. At the end of all of this, she waits for him.
"I know you have people you wish to provide for," John says, careful of the tone, the expression on his face. He does not mean this as a threat. "I am much the same."
The closest John will come to acknowledging Madi in Max's presence: couched in ambiguous phrasing that could so easily apply to his crew, to the number of pirates fighting back on Nassau. The similarity is pleasing to him, reassuring in a way he does not like to fully consider. That sameness has always been there, which is truly what makes this difficult, makes them both wary of each other. Moreso than ever these days, with Max's priorities having shifted in a way John hadn't anticipated.
"All of which to say, I'd prefer not to be at odds with you."
For many reasons, anywhere between genuine appreciation and dreading the idea of having to constantly account for her as a threat to his machinations. But it all came to the same thing, really: it would be nice to be on more even footing with her.