#( ⁶⁶⁶ ) bellamy swan. ⇀ answered prompt.

[tiredg0ds]

wildflowers   brush   against   his   calves.      they   stood   amidst   the   flowers   that   flourish   in   the   gardens   outside   volterra.      it   was   dark,   obviously.      even   though   there   are   walls   that   line   the   gardens,   it   was   still   safer   for   demetri   that   way.      their   conversation   had   begun   to   wane,   falling   off   into   a   comfortable   silence   until…   

@fyllakas: ❛   a   golden   cage   is   still   just   a   cage   ❜

gaze   snaps   upwards   ,   staring   at   demetri   with   a   look   of   confusion   etched   across   features.      over   time   ,   bellamy   had   started   to   understand   that   demetri   felt   trapped   here.      it   had   taken   time   to   come   to   this   realization,   because   on   the   surface   demetri   seems   perfectly   content   with   his   current   placement.      but   that   wasn't   the   case.      if   it   weren't   for   reasons   unknown   to   bellamy   ,   demetri   wouldn't   stay   here.   fingers   tremble   as   they   lift   ,   brushing   over   demetri's   shoulder.      a   comforting   touch,   he   hopes.         

❝         if   i   could   free   you,   i   would.         ❞  

[qqueenofhades]

also, so, i may have started a little something today

Sam advanced warily as the flaps fell shut behind him. He had a pistol in his belt, not that he thought he could shoot the bloody Governor if this went pear-shaped, and he clasped his hands behind his back, feeling as if he was back at school with the particularly irascible Latin master. “Ah – Your Excellency? I’m Samuel Jones. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” James Oglethorpe was a trim mid-forties aristocrat in a currently rather damp and flyaway wig, which he seemed to have made some effort to tame. He was sitting behind a camp desk heaped with piles of papers and parchments: requisition orders, army reports, maps of the region, dispatches from the scouts and spies, and doubtless a hundred and one bellyaching letters from Commodore Pearce about the needs of the fleet. A few candles were wedged precariously onto the edge, along with some fugitive inkwells and penknives and a half-finished tin plate of dinner. “At your ease, soldier.”

The last thing Sam felt was at ease, but he snapped a salute, clicked his heels, then adopted a slightly more casual posture, taking the camp chair across from Oglethorpe when the governor nodded to it. He tried not to fiddle with the loose thread on his cuff. “Sir?” he prompted, when Oglethorpe kept writing. Likely shouldn’t, keep your mouth shut until the commanding officer spoke to you, so on and so forth, but holding his tongue (or his temper) had never been one of his particular virtues. “Did you – ”

Oglethorpe gave him a dry look, as if to say that he would find out if he just shut up for a moment, and removed the gadroon from the candle, dropping melted wax onto the letter and sealing it with a stamp of his ring. Then he said, “You are Samuel Jones of Savannah, Georgia?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is your father Killian Jones, formerly first lieutenant of HMS Imperator in the Royal Navy?”

A slight chill went down Sam’s back, as this was never a well-boding line of questioning. Still, he kept his expression neutral. “Yes, sir.”

“And your mother, I believe – ” Oglethorpe checked one of his papers. “Emma Jones, née Swan, who was at one point in operation of a vessel, the Blackbird, that – pursued business opportunities outside of the usual parameters of enterprise?”

“If you’re asking if my mother was a pirate,” Sam said bluntly, “I think you know the answer.”

Both of Oglethorpe’s eyebrows raised at that, but he forbore to rebuke this impertinency. He set aside his papers and regarded Sam, fingers steepled. “Both your parents, weren’t they? Your father’s notorious alias was Hook, later in his career?”

Sam winced. So much for that being innocuous. “My parents have been upright citizens for almost three decades. And considering that Georgia was founded to provide a refuge for those who might have landed themselves on the wrong side of England’s laws – you should recall, sir, as you did the founding – surely you can’t be registering a moral objection now?”

“There is,” Oglethorpe said, “rather some difference between the honest poor abused in workhouses, those escaping the unjust vicissitudes of religious oppression, and other such deserving refugees, than there are between notorious and unrepentant high seas pirates. On that note, I believe your grandfather was also a pirate? James McGraw, known as Captain Flint – reported dead some years ago, by hanging?”

Sam kept his face straight. The number of ersatz “Flints” captured by the authorities and inevitably executed had in fact become something of a running joke with his family – “hanged you again last week, Grandpa” – but this meant that Oglethorpe had been doing quite a bit of digging. Not merely to boast about it, either. “Aye,” he said, since there wasn’t much use in denying it outright. “But my grandfather is, as you say, dead.”

“Mm. And you are most likely named for the late Captain Samuel Bellamy, a former close associate of your parents, and also a pirate?”

“Yes,” Sam said resignedly, deciding not to mention that this man was additionally his godfather, as he had a feeling that would be making Oglethorpe’s point for him. “Also a pirate.”

[tiredg0ds]

it   had   been   two   years   since   he'd   seen   any   of   the   cullen's   last.      two   years   of   time   spent   amongst   the   volturi.      of   time   spent   with   demetri   almost   always   at   his   side.      the   only   time   he   spent   amongst   humans   these   days   were   in   his   classes.      he'd   taken   up   classes   at   the   local   university.      something   to   do,   he   supposed.      something   to   achieve.      all   that's   to   say   that…   meeting   up   with   alice   cullen   had   been   an   impulsive   decision.      he'd   checked   his   email   one   day   a   few   months   back   and   there   sat   an   email   from   the   seer   herself.      emailing   back   had   taken   him   a   few   days.      just   a   bit   of   consideration.      what   were   the   consequences ?      demetri   would   surely   be   disappointed.      aro,   too.   but   demetri…   well,   his   opinion   mattered   just   a   little   bit   more.      even   though   it   shouldn't.      aro   had   the   power   to   take   him   out   of   this   world.      demetri   was…      well,   demetri.      

meeting   up   with   alice   had   been   impulsive.      something   distinctly   different   to   the   days   of   contemplation   replying   to   her   email   had   taken.      alice   had   suggested   it,   of   course.      insisted,   even.      said   nothing   bad   would   happen.      bellamy   believed   her.      so   -   they   met   up   at   a   little   hole-in-the-wall   coffee   shop   not   too   far   from   bellamy's   campus   on   the   first   rainy   day   they   could   find.      it   had   been   nice.      catching   up,   figuring   things   out.      it   solidified   some   things   for   bellamy,   too.      like,   that   he   was   exactly   where   he   was   meant   to   be.      huh.      who   would've   thought   ?      

he'd   been   careful   not   to   touch   alice.      to   keep   some   distance   between   the   two.      he   didn't   need   demetri   -   or   worse,   aro   -   knowing   that   alice   was   in   italy.      or   that   he'd   broken   their   trust.      too   bad   demetri   seemed   to   know   him   a   little   better   than   he   thought.      his   excuse   that   he'd   met   up   with   a   friend   from   school   hadn't   flown.      actually,   it   kinda   sank.      quickly.      demetri   had   seen   right   through   it.   

@fyllakas: ❛         i   can   tell   when   you're   lying   to   me.         ❜

swallowing,   a   nervous   blush   takes   hold   of   pale   flesh.      spreading   up   his   neck   and   over   his   cheeks.      shaking   his   head,   he   tries   again.         ❝         you're   being   paranoid,   demetri,   it   really   was   just   a   friend.         ❞         a   friend   he   shouldn't   have,   of   course,   but   a   friend   nonetheless.      pushing   himself   some   more   he   -         ❝         are   you   jealous   ?         ❞         the   mere   suggestion   is   almost   laughable.      but,   it   was   more   to   throw   demetri   off   his   trail   then   the   fact   that   he   actually   believed   it.      demetri   didn't   care   who   he   befriended,   or   who   he   spent   time   with.      well,   except   for   this   instance…      wherein,   he'd   deliberately   broken   one   of   the   only   unspoken   rules   that   they   could've   had.      no   contact   with   the   cullen's.         ❝         it's   alright   if   you   are.      i   get   jealous   of   you,   too,   sometimes.      when   i   see   you   with   that   one   blonde…         ❞         now   that   is   the   truth.      probably   the   first   true   thing   bellamy'd   said   to   demetri   all   day.