come_sailaway | He Gods to Swear

Entry tags:

He Gods to Swear

Who: Cede Sonnet (Baptin) and ...all three of you... [OTA]
What: gin, rum, tequila, pina colada (one for each hand), vodka, whiskey....
When: June 30 year of our lord ...somethin' with a lotta 2s
Where: I dunno just...everyhere
Warnings: this man

I. At Hurikane

[Give him two pina coladas... or three. Or four. Because the ghosts won't and he's trying to pull the drink from the invisible hands]

I'm fine. I can handle it. I can handle anything! Don't tell me I can't liquor my handle!

II. At John's

[who is holding a bottle of tequila, sitting on the piano and intermittently throwing books at the screen? It's him. It's fine. He's fine. Everything's fine. Why do you ask?]

III. Chatterbox

[it is karaoke time and he is just in time for having a good time, reading the lyrics badly]

Tell me why ain't nothin' but a heartache
tell me why ain't nothing but a missed skate
tell me why I never wanna hear you say
I want it that day!

Come on! Sing with me!

IV. Scoops
I'll have one of everything please. [and then seeing someone come up, clings to the window] It's all mine. Go away. Shoo.

V. Elsewhere
[Stede is clinging to the railing, making his way along or otherwise rambling back and forth across the deck]

Wow! Choppy seas? Am I right? Of course I'm right. Must be a storm. [he chugs a bottle of rum]

If we die... I hope the captain is fucked. Fucked. Absolutely a hundered percent ten eggs deep.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Smooth.

[Izzy crouches down to be eye level. Stede is a mess wrapped in an even bigger mess, and three sheets to the wind. How unprofessional, though that isn't any surprise.]

Stede Bonnet. [Snapping his fingers for attention. Come on now, focus you twat.]

Why don't you just tell me what it is you mean to say so you can fuck off, yeah.

[it was silk. No smooth. Very. Like the smoothest dressing gown. Like cream. He was proud of it even if he couldn't be drunk. And then here is Izzy, crouching down like he's some sort of child, telling him to tell him and then fuck off. Well he had no intention of fucking off! In fact he was going to fuck on even harder]

Read it yourself. [he snaps, and does his best to smack Izzy in the face with the notebook]

[He sees that coming a million miles away and falls back onto his ass to avoid the a stationary assault. In fact, no, fuck that you know what-- he grabs for it. GIVE]

What- the fuck is- [TUG! LET GO!] -wrong with you!?

I'd make a list but it wouldn't fit in two books! [he holds on doggedly, hooking his fingers in the little spiraly things in order to keep it]

You come in here with your stupid face and you stroke my curtains and make life miserable for everyone involved [meaning him] but get it through your thick head that I'm [tug] daddy! [TUG]

[You can't fucking say that word to him. It shoots like an arrow and lands somewhere so deeply uncomfortable that he can't even acknowledge it's existence.

Izzy snarls and pulls hard on the book. When Stede then pulls back with all his freakish strength that's when Izzy lets go. Fall on the floor you drunk fuck.]

[he falls hard, smacking his head against the wall. It hurts. Stuns him more than anything. He feels like a fool. Like an idiot. Like a big stupid baby Bonnet who bumped his big head on the wall.

Well fuck that.

Fuck that!

He flings the notebook to the side and springs at him with something like a high pitched roar, intent on tackling him to the ground]

[Aaaand there it is. Stede doesn't stay down the way he should. No, instead of being reasonable and understanding the predator he's he's badgering, he launches into an attack.

The thing is, Izzy could dodge it. He's sober, he's aware, he really could. But the hall isn't as big as you'd hope and there isn't too much he can do but slam the door into Stede as hard as he can.

But Ed said to play nice. And whilst he could also employ Ed's logic of 'well the door hurt Stede, not me', he knows that often times Ed's rules only apply to himself.

So what is there to do, in all honestly, except brace and let it happen. This way when they fall and he fights back, pinned in under Stede's frankly ridiculously clumsy tackle, it's self defense to grab him by the shirt front and knock their heads together as hard as he can. You want a pig fight, you'll get one. ]

Ow! Fuck! [he wasn't expecting that. How can you expect for someone to just grab you and smack their head into yours? He clutches his forehead with one hand and while the old Stede Bonnet might have given up and curled into a ball of misery to avoid being hurt--

the new Stede Bonnet is going to give as good as he gets.

Just as soon as his ears stop ringing.

But he knows Izzy isn't going to stop so to buy himself time he shoves the heel of his hand under Izzy's chin to at least get his head out of striking range and give Stede a second to blink the stars from his eyes]

[There's no mercy this time.

Last time they crossed paths he had no intention of fighting Stede.

The time before he had every intention of banishing him, but went into that duel with mercy, knowing he had to fight fairly under a code that the rest of the crew would adhere to. A Gentleman's duel, and look where that got him.

He didn't start this. There was no agreement on rules of engagement. So all is fair and fucking valid in self defense. Which means he doesn't feel bad at all about jerking his fists in Stede's shirt even tighter and then releasing upwards to punch him right in the fucking gob.]

Oof! God!

[that hurts even more. The force of the blow knocks his head to the side and he can taste blood in his mouth. He covers his mouth and nose, tasting blood. The immediate reaction is fear. Oh god is his nose broken? The second is anger. Frustration. Goddamnit why can't he win at least once?

You can't and you never will, says Nigel in his mind. You are and you will always be pathetic. ]

Shut up!

[He won't be. He refuses to be!

He lets go of Izzy's chin and raises his hand with the intent to slap him full across the face- then catches sight of the bandages and stills.

What the hell is he doing?

He's never hit his servants, he's never hit his family, and he's never hit his crew- which for all intents and purposes that's what Izzy was, whether either of them liked it or not]

[Another perfect opening for a repeat strike but-

-but Izzy doesn't take it.

Betrayed by mercy once again, it seems. He's poised to, absolutely, with a snarl on his face which turns into something of a grin when he realizes Stede's stopped himself.

Can't do it, huh. Good to know.]

You know, I'm not sure your boyfriend would appreciate you attacking his right hand man unprovoked like this, Bonnet. Not very profesh, an'all. Real pirates know when to pick a fight and you better have a hell of a good reason or kill me right now to hide your stupid fucking shame.

[oh... threats are a bit like pirate passive aggression. It's interesting to know and oddly...somewhat adorable? Is that strange? Except he's not afraid of Ed. Ed might be furious with him and this may damage...what they have but what is there to be afraid of?

He sits up, as a consequence of how they're positioned, lightly straddling one of Izzy's legs, not that there's much room.]

God, you hit hard. [and there is blood dripping everywhere from his nose. He doesn't think he's going to tell John about this either and instead takes a handkerchief from his sleeve to hold against it]

Well, I don't know what perfesh means- but- [he hesitates, then goes on. It's not as if Izzy doesn't know all this already]

-it's because I want to be like you. Like Ed. A real man of the world. [he clenches his hand into a fist] But that's not something that I'll ever be. No matter how hard I try. And I attacked you out of...my own feelings of inadequacy.

If I can beat up Izzy Hands- well. [he snorts which is a mistake as there's a spray of blood everywhere and he mutters] bugger. [as he tilts his head back to stop the flow of red] Used to get these all the time when I was a lad at a great height, you know. [Father couldn't even look at him but Stede supposes he doesn't blame him]

Anyway, you don't deserve this and I'm sorry for coming at you. [and it is hard to say, but he has to say it because it's only right. It's only just] You can't even kill me. I mean you can't because I'll come back but also-- [well, Ed said not to which really puts Izzy in a rough spot]

And that isn't fair to you or Ed. Damn...

[he gets up, having to brace himself against the doorframe, staring up at the ceiling and wishing the bleeding would stop. He needs another drink or several and sleep. Just as soon as he can stop dribbling blood everywhere]

[This is, what Izzy imagines, it would be like to watch two carriages go barreling into each other in slow motion. Except there are no carriages and it's just Stede Bonnet being a drunk twat and self destructing in real time.

Look, Izzy isn't very creative. Don't think about it too hard.

The second Stede gets up is the second Izzy scrabbles back a little to get himself up as well, unscathed but Very Bothered.]

No, no no, shut up.

[He points to his couch. Don't you fucking dare run away.]

Sit. Now. You and I need to have a little chat.

[even after all that his first instinct is to tell him to shove off. Regardless of how bad he feels it'll be a cold day in hell before he listens to Izzy Hands and so far it's rarely gotten below seventy degrees. Sometimes a little chilly 65 at night but no lower than that.

Still, he owes the man to at least have a chat]

I'd rather stand, thank you.

[bitch]

[Oh haven't you heard there's a cold front blowing in. Beast from the East, Storm Israel.]

You just fucking attacked me in my own fucking room for what. Because you want to be like me? I listen to orders, NOW SIT! DOWN!

What you think you're going to shout at me and I am just going to listen?

Wanting to be like you doesn't mean I want to be you and you wouldn't listen to me either if I told you to sit. You'd tell me to fuck off.

I wouldn't even listen to Ed tell me to sit. [he's not sure what he would do if Ed was angry with him- but then Ed never really was.]

I can still hear you from where I'm standing. But here. [he slips into the room and shuts the door behind him with a foot] Better?

[Yeah sorry not sorry he just isn't in the fucking mood. Izzy doesn't get physical for his own pleasure but he will if it will help him make a point. They've already thrown hands so he doesn't have reservations in crossing the (now closed) space to physically haul Stede somewhere to sit down.

There is an easier option, though, which is to cow Stede against the door, and so he swoops down to grab all the stupid little notes and slaps them against the other man's chest. Holding them there. Firmly.]

You're a fucking disgrace, Stede Bonnet. All your fussy little notes, and caterwauling, and flapping all over the place. And you're fucking wankered.

So let's do this, huh. Let's fuckin do this. Tell me, what has you so far up my ass, that you're perching by my door like some pining little school girl. Should I pull your pigtails? Would you like that? Are you jealous? Do you want my attention? Because let me tell you something and let me make myself very fucking clear, I have gone out of my way to leave you alone. I have done everything in my power to fulfill my duties yet you have found every excuse to interject yourself into my life on this stupid fucking prison and you are NOT my fucking daddy.

[Many of his words accented with an additional hard shove, that last bit especially. They're pinned up against the door now. Very close together. Izzy looks on the cusp of either a feral rage or a total break down.]

So what do you fucking want from me!?

[the man is having a little bit of a meltdown it seems and Stede can't blame him. He winces a bit at the words flung back in his face, especially the daddy part, and the notes slapped to his chest that he holds onto absently, looking away and at the floor.

He feels sorry for him, he really does, but has enough believe in Izzy's fortitude to at least be fairly confident he's not broken, just a little nearing the end of his rope. But he's right about so many things, especially Stede being a disgrace. He and Clarke would get along, he thinks. She'd have gone along with them smashing his face so Ed could assume his identity.]

Nothing. [which is true.] I was just...using you to try and find my own self worth, and I shouldn't have. I apologize for it. [and he means it]

And I'm definitely not...anything to you. I know that. [other than an irritation maybe. But he couldn't even be a father to his own children - not that he'd meant it quite in that way, but the point still stood]

But uh...thanks...for looking after Darcy. She's a good girl and could use someone who knows what they're doing. Ed likes her too.

In fact you'll er....probably get along with most of the crew. [but he should probably just stop talking and quit while he's dubiously ahead]

[Izzy isn't convinced at any of that, he doesn't 'get along' with most of the people Stede has employed. If this crew is anything like his last than it will not be so, but if they're good listeners and do what they're told? Then yeah. Maybe.

He stays pressed in, forearm barred across Stede's broad chest. He is fucking livid, but the more Stede talks and just gives up what his issue is, the more mental gymnastics Izzy is forced to do until he can only arrive at one conclusion.]

This is about Darcy.

[It is not a question. Izzy releases the pin and takes a step back.

Stede's been measuring his self worth against him. Of all people. And- okay but you know what? Good. He should! Izzy is an extremely capable professional career pirate, he should be a role model. Fucking finally, a little recognition of his value, fuck's sake.

Unfortunately for the fight, it knocks a bit of the wind from his sails. Not that Stede stood much of a chance. Izzy's just seen a metal chair leaning not three feet away and while he has no idea where it's come from, he would have absolutely utilized it as a weapon.

Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and gives Stede a proper once over.]

You're jealous. You know I'm training Darcy, then, and you take issue with that.

[a brush of a laugh. Now that the adrenaline is fading from his system the warmth of the booze is creeping back in. It's good. He welcomes it. It makes things so much easier. Maybe he couldn't even say this while sober. Hell, he could barely say it while drunk]

No... [he looks up...well down at Izzy. It's difficult to look the man directly in the eyes if he just looks straight forward. He wears his age on his face but in a good way, similar to Ed. The lines of a long hard life, he thinks]

I'm glad you are. You're good at it. A good fighter and a good teacher. And when times get hard, you're going to be one of the ones to pull us all through. [because if anything else, Izzy Hands seemed like a man with a strong mind and a strong will]

So yeah, teach her. Teach others. Bring them together. They'll respect you without question, even if they don't know who you work for. [and that will only add to it really] I'm glad you're here.

[a beat]

For everyone else anyway.

Uh-huh.

[He is not convinced. Izzy considers the first times he met Stede, how they had postured and how he had cut his own name through the other man's shirt. How he had played to his own pride and mercy and was ultimately bested, leaving with a consolation prize at best. The utter disbelief of the arrogant sass he had received in Jackie's shit hole pub, all of that. And now, Stede standing not four feet away, drunk and wild and unhinged saying that he's grateful or glad or whatever the fuck he is trying to get at.

These things don't add up. The figures are there but the sums are wrong, and Izzy doesn't like it when the math is wrong.

So what is the other contributing factor? This ship? Their environment? The fact they aren't still vying for Ed and the fate of The Revenge? That certainly has a part to play in Izzy's existence, no plan to action, no future to find except getting out and bringing Edward with him.]

This crew you've assembled, what's their purpose? Do you intend to lead a mutiny?

Why is mutiny the first thing anyone ever thinks of? It's surprising anyone gets anything done with mutiny this, mutiny that, let's see how many times we can get killed.

[he throws his hands in the air]

I mean there's got to be other ways to do this, right? It's not just finding the captain and pitching him overboard or whatever it is you do with captains you mutiny against. Don't answer that.

[he doesn't want to know]

No. No mutiny. The learning how to fight is because of anything else that might happen. Or...anything we might have to do to each other or just camaraderie. It's important.

Anyway, why do I have to have a reason to have a crew. A man can have a crew if he wants, can't he? No law against that, is there? [he's not going to say it was for Ed because that was the first idea but maybe it really was for him- and anyway that was an idea that had sort of blown up in his face and he's not telling Izzy Hands any of that because he's already told him enough]

But thank you for your participation.

[Izzy steeples his fingers and presses them to his mouth as he listens, concern intensifying with every word.

Then, finally,]

You do understand the basic framework of what pirates actually do, yeah.

[He gives Izzy Hands a look. This is a line that's been frustrating him for a while now, even if not quite the same words. And while he knows there's standards he's not living up to, there's still one thing that he knows for sure]

A pirate can do whatever the fuck he wants.

[he tosses his hair bangs from his face]

If he couldn't, what is the point of being a pirate? What is the point of breaking free from society and living out on the open seas if you're just going to fit the narrow definition of what everyone else thinks they should do?

[Stede isn’t…technically wrong which is frustrating but that is besides his point.]

Right.. yeah, but you know what we do, the raiding and conquering n’that. Captain Bonnet we are being held prisoner aboard this..farce of a ship, made to slaughter each other for the amusement of a captain who fancies himself god. What else is there to do but mutiny?

He Gods to Swear

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