The Outhouse at the Kenway Farm, Hatherton, December 1st, 1711
"Is it dangerous, Edward?"
Caroline turned about on the bed, cushioning her cheek on her hand. With the other one, she drew figures on Edward's naked chest. An idle, intimate motion, but her brow was frowning.
Tilting his head to look at her, Edward sighed. "Hm?"
"Privateering," said Caroline quietly. "Is it dangerous?"
Ah. So that was what she was so worried about. Edward had raised the possibility with her before, as the offer he had once gotten kept mulling around his head. "Wouldn't pay so nice if it weren't," he pointed out.
"Why not sail with the king's navy? Earn a proper wage. Sail under gentlemen."
Of course she'd suggest as such. She didn't understand the burning embarrassment Edward felt every time he heard the outhouse creak, every time the breeze tore through the building and sent her skin shivering. She'd been a rich man's daughter, and this was all Edward had to offer her - a simple position with the king's navy would not turn his fortunes around.
"Sod the navy's gentlemen," he spat. "For every shilling I'd earn, the captain'd get six hundred. That's no way to earn a fortune."
Caroline heaved a sigh, as if she had argued this many times before - and Edward supposed that she had. "We don't need a fortune."
No. She still didn't understand. And part of Edward knew that perhaps he was pushing it too far, that perhaps there were other options. But it was not a part of him he was inclined to listen to, and so he sat up. "It's not about need, Caroline. I want food that don't make me sick. I want walls that hold back the wind. I want a decent life." While mostly they had faded, some days his memories of Fandom were vivid, and cloying, terrible and grand both. He'd had that life, once. Could've had more. But no.
Caroline dropped her hand to the mattress. She shut her eyes for a long moment, and when she opened them, her expression had slid into a kind of resigned courage. "H-how long would you be gone with these privateers?"
He offered her a smile for it. "A year, I reckon," he promised. "...Two at the most."
"All right," Caroline said. She sat up. "No more than two... promise me!"
[[ and lo, our first scene from Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag, the actual video game! nfi. still. we're getting there. ]]
Caroline turned about on the bed, cushioning her cheek on her hand. With the other one, she drew figures on Edward's naked chest. An idle, intimate motion, but her brow was frowning.
Tilting his head to look at her, Edward sighed. "Hm?"
"Privateering," said Caroline quietly. "Is it dangerous?"
Ah. So that was what she was so worried about. Edward had raised the possibility with her before, as the offer he had once gotten kept mulling around his head. "Wouldn't pay so nice if it weren't," he pointed out.
"Why not sail with the king's navy? Earn a proper wage. Sail under gentlemen."
Of course she'd suggest as such. She didn't understand the burning embarrassment Edward felt every time he heard the outhouse creak, every time the breeze tore through the building and sent her skin shivering. She'd been a rich man's daughter, and this was all Edward had to offer her - a simple position with the king's navy would not turn his fortunes around.
"Sod the navy's gentlemen," he spat. "For every shilling I'd earn, the captain'd get six hundred. That's no way to earn a fortune."
Caroline heaved a sigh, as if she had argued this many times before - and Edward supposed that she had. "We don't need a fortune."
No. She still didn't understand. And part of Edward knew that perhaps he was pushing it too far, that perhaps there were other options. But it was not a part of him he was inclined to listen to, and so he sat up. "It's not about need, Caroline. I want food that don't make me sick. I want walls that hold back the wind. I want a decent life." While mostly they had faded, some days his memories of Fandom were vivid, and cloying, terrible and grand both. He'd had that life, once. Could've had more. But no.
Caroline dropped her hand to the mattress. She shut her eyes for a long moment, and when she opened them, her expression had slid into a kind of resigned courage. "H-how long would you be gone with these privateers?"
He offered her a smile for it. "A year, I reckon," he promised. "...Two at the most."
"All right," Caroline said. She sat up. "No more than two... promise me!"
[[ and lo, our first scene from Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag, the actual video game! nfi. still. we're getting there. ]]