"Always," he scoffs, standing by to offload half of the bags from his new companion, slinging them similarly over his shoulder. "A cut of every raid too." he continues, eying Izzy curiously. He's too experienced with his sword to never have done this sort of work before, but the questions tell Ed it wasn't on his type of ship. the military style sword was starting to make sense, Ed has to wonder if he'd been disgraced.
"Hornigold only sends his best on personal errands." Ed replies proudly, his chest high. "Stick with me and there will be many more in your future."
Edward looks to Izzy, in this moment, like the very picture of everything he aspires to be. And then, so easy breezy in his words, is the promise of more. It is absolutely captivating.
He would very much like there to be more.
"I'd like that."
With his entire being. He thought maybe this little test would be gratis, but Ed places them on equal footing immediately, and that in juxtapose against the hard pecked order of his background, is so extremely, immediately fulfilling. No wonder Ed was sent on this mission, look at him. He's incredible. As radiant as the sun.
"What's he like? Hornigold. Do you really think he'll take on just like that?"
Ed gives Izzy another friendly pat on the shoulder, chuckling at his reply. Why wouldn't he like that? Unless he was some kind of fucking idiot, anyone would jump at the chance to be among Hornigold's ranks.
"He's tough," Ed says, honest and blunt, "But he knows his shit. And he trusts me, I'll put in a good word." he smirks, leading them on.
"Is there anything else you might, uh... need to know?" he asks, because he hasn't shaken the thought of his new companion being a bit inexperienced. Ed doesn't like jumping to conclusions, but if anyone's going to believe his word about Izzy, the least he can do is properly prepare him. "You know, about the job."
There's a good reason that thought hasn't shaken out of Ed, and that's because it is completely true. That much is glaringly apparent, now, and Izzy is suddenly very aware.
He presses his lips thin and stops the pace, nervous and, admittedly, a bit ashamed. Had he really been so transparent? Just like that? Is he made of glass or something?
Honestly is the best policy, but he barely knows this man. If he speaks the truth would he be seen as untrustworthy? Would the thing he's just managed to gain be ripped away just like that? Probably with his life, too.
Gotta say something, though.
Izzy swallows. He feels sick. Suddenly the ground is very interesting to look at.
"I've never served..p.. I've never served pirates before. Fought them.. not served. I don't, um. I don't know how you do things."
So his instincts were right then. No surprise... Ed could be brilliant at times, this was just evidence of the way his mind works. Still, Edward Teach had not always been a pirate, and this man has proven useful enough. He imagines even moreso, if he knows the way the military moves and how to avoid capture. No, Izzy doesn't have to worry about the offer being taken away, Ed would have a use for him one way or another.
"Tell me why." Ed replies, his voice more firm than it had been, "Why do you want to be a pirate? If I like your answer, I'll tell you everything I know."
It's a hefty offer from the gatekeeper to a new life. The weight of promise sits as heavy in him as the gold on his shoulders.
Words are important. The words themselves, but more importantly, the way you use them. His father had told him that when he was a boy and Izzy has never forgotten.
He works his jaw for a moment, looking for what he wants to say, tick in his cheek flaring as he clenches. When he looks up to meet Ed's eyes, they are full of fire.
"Because I fucking hate the crown. And I would see every last one of them burn before I went back to slave under The Jack."
There's a silent scoff, and then Ed nudges at him with an elbow while shifting the weight of the gold in his hands. "Good enough for me, man. Come on..." he mutters, leading them along to the docks where they'd met. Ither crew members are trickling by, some to load or unload various stock, but Ed doesn't pay them any mind and nor do they. He leads Izzy onboard, making a straight line for the cabin where they can sit and sort their coin before Hornigold's return, giving them a bit of privacy for Ed to answer any other questions Izzy may have.
There, inside the small cabin, Ed sets the bags upon a table and unties one of them, plucking out a few coins off the top, his share. He halves it, and holds his hand out to Izzy. "Your cut." he offers. It's half of his own, because he knows he wouldn't have done this at all without the other man's help.
"I'd say we have another hour or two before Captain returns, so... we have time to kill. I assume you know your way around a boat? You obviously know your way with a sword, so where are the gaps?"
Where are the gaps, that's a good question. He doesn't know what he doesn't know.
Izzy plays with the coins he's been given and savors the feeling of them, heavy and real in his hand. His first booty, rightfully earned, as a pirate. Fairly shared, even. He would have accepted a single coin.
He makes a note of that. He shouldn't accept less for himself, and Edward is a kind person at heart.
"Pirates have codes, don't they?"
Izzy would like to know them so he feels like he can settle himself without making any major cock up.
"And I'd like to know the structure of the crew. Who the quartermaster is'n all that. Who I should report to and who to give berth. Oh-"
It turns out he has several questions.
"Raids. And tactics, I should like to know those."
Plenty to discuss for the hours waiting for Hornigold to return. He doesn't ask much about Ed himself, if anything at all. It's quite private and really, it's irrelevant to the moment as Izzy begins to sew himself a framework in which to exist. His small pack of belongings was laid in the corner by the door but he feels as though it might have been unnecessary. If he's starting again, really starting again, all he needs are the clothes on his back, his sword, and someone to trust.
He tells himself that he will dump it over later, but that little satchel stays with him for many years to come. A reminder of where he came from and who he will never be again.
"One thing at a time..." Ed laughs, pulling a chair aside for himself and gesturing for Izzy to take the other. Once he does, Ed takes the time to explain it all casually; the code, the hierarchy, raids-- at least how he deals with them, all of it, including a walk through of notable members of the crew and their various temperaments, at least until Hornigold's return and their introduction is made.
The first few weeks move similarly, Ed squirreling time away from his duties to spend with Izzy, checking in and making sure he's clear on his own expectations. A failure on Izzy’s part would be a failure on Ed's, and that makes the time spent with him a worthwhile investment. Luckily there aren't many tradeships crossing their route, so it gives the new pirate the chance to acclimate himself with their ship and crew without the concerns of a raid. Of course, a pirate's life is a fast one, and the time eventually does come, the whole ship abuzz when their target is spotted and their course set.
Ed doesn't bother with much of a pep-talk before they're over the side of the ship. Izzy doesn't need one, he thinks. He's capable, he's served the crown and fought more gruesome men than a few hardy sailors, hasn't he? That's Edward's impression, anyway.
The air smells like gunpowder and it's difficult to hear surrounded by screaming men and the clashing of metal, but this is Ed in his element, and he moves like he was raised from hell itself, pushing men from their feet and pressing his blade through their palms.
This sort of quick call to action is fire in the veins. His very first raid. Izzy has never felt more alive.
As a boy, he had been terrified of the concept of pirates. His family's livelihood depended entirely on the mercy of avoiding them, and so tales of these wretched demons haunting the open waters were the stuff of nightmares. It was easy to hate them without seeing them as men. It was easier then, as a kingsman, to kill them. Just dirty animals being put down for their own rotten good in self defense (and by active pursuit).
Here, in this raid, suddenly the tables are turned. They are the demons here to take what they like and kill anyone and everyone in their way. You would think that he would find it difficult to see an innocent man and kill him for his riches, but whatever bank of sand it is that holds back the emotion stays in place. The fact of the matter is, if he doesn't kill, if he doesn't help, he or his crew could die as a result. And out here? Your crew and captain are all you have.
So it's easy.
It's also easy to follow Edward into the fray, never straying too far, keen to learn and watch his back. Izzy notices immediately that whilst Ed is an absolute savage of a fighter, he opts out of every killing blow that presents itself. He takes the eye, not the brain. The hand over a heart. Not ideal but certainly a choice.
Cannon fire is thunderous from The Ranger behind them, a team of men having stayed back to support the boarding party. They never aim for the deck, that would risk their own, but they aim high above at the foremast. Once a ship looses that, they are finished no matter the outcome.
Izzy loses track of the number of times he is almost killed in this fight, alone. Three times Edward parries a blade meant for Izzy's back or neck. Three times Izzy pivots downwards just in time to spear a man through the throat. Another two are his finishing a man pinned by Ed's dagger and nearly takes their last ditch effort to stay alive. He kills them, too, unblinking with no remorse expect for the blood that soaks his old linen shirt. Ruined, for certain. It feels like a whirling dervish like this, picking up where the other leaves off, covering and advancing in kind. Perhaps they are. Exhilaration in bliss. In victory.
There is a loud, cracking scream of the mast shattering and falling to the right, and cheers explode from their gunners. The vessel's captain, if he is even still alive, has no choice but to surrender. A Dutch merchant ship laden with spices and fabric, they will eat very well tonight, indeed.
When it is all said and done, Ben stands victorious over his gathered crew with a puffed chest. Hands on his hips he laughs before picking up a bottle of champagne they had found in the belly of the Maarseveen and shakes it. With a flick of his thumb, the cork shoots out and he sprays his boys with a cheerful (but unhinged) cackle, sips, and then sends the bottle around. The Maarseveen is anchored and left to float like a bloated carcass. A speedy getaway is made, and the party of a good day's work rages long into the night.
Not wanting to miss out, Izzy stays, but eventually excuses himself below to wash the blood from his clothes and body, promising to return with rum when he's decent. He looks like a beast and dried blood is so very uncomfortable. He sighs as he scrubs the fabric and fingers a small hole in the material. He'd had some close calls today and this shirt does nothing for protection. He tells himself that once he's saved up he'll buy something better when they next dock. That this went well and he should be proud of himself, not let all the little failings catch his attention and circle around and around play by play. How to improve for next time. What worked, what didn't. There's a lot to think about.
Sigh. There's probably no point in even trying to save this piece of shit shirt, to be honest. If only he had another.
There's a moment during the celebration where Ed goes looking for Izzy, ready to pass him some rum and congratulate him on a successful first raid. Confusion sets in when he realizes that he isn't on deck, and Ed slips away quickly before anyone notices, heading below to search for his lost companion, only to find him scrubbing at his clothing over a basin.
"Bit early to turn in," he says once within earshot. "The boys are still up there singing shanties and passing around liquor, you know."
Izzy snorts, and wipes his forehead with his arm in an attempt to push his unruly hair back out of his eyes. There's the small of lye about the place as he does his best to get the grime out of his lost cause, but it is a losing battle. Something meditative to do while he thinks and works back over the events of the day. A little breather before going back into the wild energy of the party up top.
"I know. I'll come back up once I get this crust off. Shirt's proper focked."
This does, however, put him in the uncomfortable position of having his glove off and suddenly becoming very aware of it. His only option is to keep his hands in the scalding water, and so he does.
"Leave it," Ed scoffs, "I've got one you can have. Doesn't suit me, anyway." he moves across the room to fetch it, pulling it from a small bin of his few belongings. He gives it a short sniff, decides it's scent is inoffensive enough, and tosses it Izzy’s way.
Ed watches Izzy as he reclines slightly against a nearby surface, heaving a deep sigh, "Saw you out there with that sword. You're fucking good."
Izzy turns just in time to catch the garment and inspect it, forgetting his hidden hand as he holds the shirt up to him. It's nice, the shirt. Good fabric and cut. He loves it immediately and grins wide as he tugs it on over his head.
"You think so?"
The praise fits better than the shirt, but he thrives on them both in equal measure.
"Someone has to keep an eye on your back, you never deal a final blow."
There's no heat, it's just an observation as he tucks in the long tails of the fine linen thing he's been gifted. His trousers suddenly seem very out of place, but that's a fashion problem, not a function problem, and something he can fix when they make port. The sleeves are hilariously long on him, billowing down past his hands - one of which is suspiciously dark and decorated - but there's a length of cotton cord on his satchel behind the door which he retrieves and moves to cut in half to tie as garters.
"You move so fast from man to man it's like you're in three places at once."
"Dead men tell no tales..." he responds idly, "How will anyone know to fear you if they're all fucking dead?" he shrugs. Seems simple enough. It's not the entire truth, but certainly part of it.
The mark on Izzy’s hand doesn't go unnoticed, but Ed can't quite make out the details, and pushes off the surface he's leaning on to move closer and assist with Izzy’s sleeves, holding out a hand for the cord to be handed to him. "That's by design. Never want them to know where I'll strike next. Fear is always a pirate's greatest tool." he smirks, proud of his ability as much as any other man on board would be of their own.
"You wield fear well," he answers in earnest and hands over the cords, gathering one sleeve at a time to hold while they're tied up.
Izzy isn't sure he agrees on the leaving people alive thing, but if it's all part of the game then it's a game he will have to learn. Quite exciting, really. He has a mind for games and structure. Has a mind for knowledge.
"What I don't understand," he says instead of thanks for the help and gift to begin with,
"-is if you leave someone alive won't they just go off and come back with an armada? Dead men can't seek vengeance, either."
One sleeve is tied carefully, not too tight to cut off circulation but tight enough not to slip, knotted so that it won't come undone so easily. Ed checks it before tying up the other, trying to sneak a peek at the mark on Izzy’s hand in the process.
"Hm, yeah, I mean, so we'll take them, too." he replies, "Guess you have to find a balance. Or traumatize them enough that they never set foot on a boat again." he shrugs, "But I can't become a legend if no one's heard of me..."
Izzy hums in soft agreement as they work. Ed has a point about that one.
"Guess it's about balance then, ay."
The shape on his hand is easily seen now as he holds his second sleeve to be tied. Izzy isn't looking, distracted by the mess in the bucket that used to be his shirt. Across the top of his hand in thick black ink is the cameo of a ship, framed with the modern style of Tudor roses, some shaded to represent red, others left empty for white. At the top of the frame sits the unmistakable Imperial Crown. At the bottom a large anchor tied in with rope knots. The ship itself is mighty as it crashes up against a wave and across it's bow reads HMS SPENCE and a date not long passed, so it can be nothing but a date of enlistment. Naval, through and through, but there's more. The Spence is well known for it's intense pursuit of pirates, most notably that of Francis Spriggs, and the captains Shipton, and Low. On the broad side of Izzy's palm, just under where his thumb joins, are several tally marks in neatly ordered lines.
Izzy, for his sins, has been talking all this time as he works out the merits of allowing a lone survivor against that of safety and building legacy.
"I could see you as a legend. One day you'll have a ship of your very own."
Ed barely registers what Izzy is saying, too wrapped up in decoding the tattoos and markings on his hand. He knew Izzy was Naval, had to be, but the depths of that backstory were only just now coming together. Such a thing to brand yourself with, to pride yourself on-- going as far as tallying your kills, only to turn to that side.
It doesn't disgust him like it probably should. Even pirates kill other pirates. It just makes Izzy more curious. What had he done, not to earn these marks, but to make them mean nothing anymore. To make him need to seek passage on this very ship.
"Hm?" he snaps out of it, his staring obvious, "Yeah. One day."
"I can see it now," Izzy says with total certainty and adjusts the collar around his neck, turning and presenting himself for approval. Mirrors are far too fine to have in a bunk like this and the reflecting in the sword just won't do.
He sets his hands on his hips, body language open and broad. He feels rather fetching if we're being honest.
"I think you'll be a legend, Edward. You've got it in you. I can see it."
Ed lingers close until Izzy presents himself in his new shirt, then takes a step back to get the full view. It suits him far better than it ever had Ed, even the tied sleeves look intentional, a good shape on Izzy’s build. He nods, then leans forward again, his hand reaching out and smacking the back of Izzy’s hand, where the tattoo still sits revealed.
"Keep that hidden if you want to live to see it." he teases, then leans back to recline himself on the nearby bed, giving his feet a rest. "Would you stick by me if I was?" he asks idly, not thinking much of it, such dreams are surely only those...
Izzy nearly jumps out of his skin when Ed smacks his hand, color draining out of his face immediately as he hides it against his chest with his other. Oh shit. Oh shit, he's so fucked, isn't he.
...isn't he? Because Edward starts joking and carries on, which Izzy listens to as he hastily retrieves his glove and tugs it on.
"Of course I would," he answers, trying to gauge the layers of what's going on here. Izzy looks from his gloved hand and back to Edward, pulse in his throat but cautiously optimistic.
"Why wouldn't I?" he asks, watching the way Izzy favors and hides that hand. Something shameful, then. He's still figuring Izzy Hands out... and everyone has a story. Not everyone is willingly upfront with theirs, either. Ed knows this firsthand.
"I'll need a first mate." he hums, giving Izzy and expectant look. Pirate killer or not... he'll still need to determine if Izzy is someone he can fully trust.
“First mate?” Izzy nearly laughs with disbelief, but only because it is so very fucking flattering.
It lures him across the little cabin to stand at Edward’s side.
“You barely know me,” is he being coy? Maybe. His eyes are very bright.
“And I didn’t think pirates had first mates.”
What’s in it for me, he almost asks, but he already knows. He can see their lives unfurling as majestically as the drop of the foresail. One little detour to Curaçao first, though.
"I barely know everyone on this fucking ship. No one's exactly an open book." he scoffs, tilting his head up to Izzy. "Besides, if you wanna see me as a legend, you should aspire to be one as well."
Ed waves off the commentary about pirates. Isn't the point that they could have whatever they wanted? Especially if they're the ones in charge. He contemplates it for a moment, but then Izzy asks that question, and Ed's face lights up.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed, staring up at Izzy with a crooked smile. "Oh, didn't realize I needed to." he teases, "Is the promise of status and adventure not enough?" he asks, reaching forward to tug at a shirt sleeve, "Maybe more fancy clothes? Something leather-- to hold up in a fight."
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"Hornigold only sends his best on personal errands." Ed replies proudly, his chest high. "Stick with me and there will be many more in your future."
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He would very much like there to be more.
"I'd like that."
With his entire being. He thought maybe this little test would be gratis, but Ed places them on equal footing immediately, and that in juxtapose against the hard pecked order of his background, is so extremely, immediately fulfilling. No wonder Ed was sent on this mission, look at him. He's incredible. As radiant as the sun.
"What's he like? Hornigold. Do you really think he'll take on just like that?"
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"He's tough," Ed says, honest and blunt, "But he knows his shit. And he trusts me, I'll put in a good word." he smirks, leading them on.
"Is there anything else you might, uh... need to know?" he asks, because he hasn't shaken the thought of his new companion being a bit inexperienced. Ed doesn't like jumping to conclusions, but if anyone's going to believe his word about Izzy, the least he can do is properly prepare him. "You know, about the job."
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He presses his lips thin and stops the pace, nervous and, admittedly, a bit ashamed. Had he really been so transparent? Just like that? Is he made of glass or something?
Honestly is the best policy, but he barely knows this man. If he speaks the truth would he be seen as untrustworthy? Would the thing he's just managed to gain be ripped away just like that? Probably with his life, too.
Gotta say something, though.
Izzy swallows. He feels sick. Suddenly the ground is very interesting to look at.
"I've never served..p.. I've never served pirates before. Fought them.. not served. I don't, um. I don't know how you do things."
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"Tell me why." Ed replies, his voice more firm than it had been, "Why do you want to be a pirate? If I like your answer, I'll tell you everything I know."
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Words are important. The words themselves, but more importantly, the way you use them. His father had told him that when he was a boy and Izzy has never forgotten.
He works his jaw for a moment, looking for what he wants to say, tick in his cheek flaring as he clenches. When he looks up to meet Ed's eyes, they are full of fire.
"Because I fucking hate the crown. And I would see every last one of them burn before I went back to slave under The Jack."
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There, inside the small cabin, Ed sets the bags upon a table and unties one of them, plucking out a few coins off the top, his share. He halves it, and holds his hand out to Izzy. "Your cut." he offers. It's half of his own, because he knows he wouldn't have done this at all without the other man's help.
"I'd say we have another hour or two before Captain returns, so... we have time to kill. I assume you know your way around a boat? You obviously know your way with a sword, so where are the gaps?"
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Izzy plays with the coins he's been given and savors the feeling of them, heavy and real in his hand. His first booty, rightfully earned, as a pirate. Fairly shared, even. He would have accepted a single coin.
He makes a note of that. He shouldn't accept less for himself, and Edward is a kind person at heart.
"Pirates have codes, don't they?"
Izzy would like to know them so he feels like he can settle himself without making any major cock up.
"And I'd like to know the structure of the crew. Who the quartermaster is'n all that. Who I should report to and who to give berth. Oh-"
It turns out he has several questions.
"Raids. And tactics, I should like to know those."
Plenty to discuss for the hours waiting for Hornigold to return. He doesn't ask much about Ed himself, if anything at all. It's quite private and really, it's irrelevant to the moment as Izzy begins to sew himself a framework in which to exist. His small pack of belongings was laid in the corner by the door but he feels as though it might have been unnecessary. If he's starting again, really starting again, all he needs are the clothes on his back, his sword, and someone to trust.
He tells himself that he will dump it over later, but that little satchel stays with him for many years to come. A reminder of where he came from and who he will never be again.
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The first few weeks move similarly, Ed squirreling time away from his duties to spend with Izzy, checking in and making sure he's clear on his own expectations. A failure on Izzy’s part would be a failure on Ed's, and that makes the time spent with him a worthwhile investment. Luckily there aren't many tradeships crossing their route, so it gives the new pirate the chance to acclimate himself with their ship and crew without the concerns of a raid. Of course, a pirate's life is a fast one, and the time eventually does come, the whole ship abuzz when their target is spotted and their course set.
Ed doesn't bother with much of a pep-talk before they're over the side of the ship. Izzy doesn't need one, he thinks. He's capable, he's served the crown and fought more gruesome men than a few hardy sailors, hasn't he? That's Edward's impression, anyway.
The air smells like gunpowder and it's difficult to hear surrounded by screaming men and the clashing of metal, but this is Ed in his element, and he moves like he was raised from hell itself, pushing men from their feet and pressing his blade through their palms.
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As a boy, he had been terrified of the concept of pirates. His family's livelihood depended entirely on the mercy of avoiding them, and so tales of these wretched demons haunting the open waters were the stuff of nightmares. It was easy to hate them without seeing them as men. It was easier then, as a kingsman, to kill them. Just dirty animals being put down for their own rotten good in self defense (and by active pursuit).
Here, in this raid, suddenly the tables are turned. They are the demons here to take what they like and kill anyone and everyone in their way. You would think that he would find it difficult to see an innocent man and kill him for his riches, but whatever bank of sand it is that holds back the emotion stays in place. The fact of the matter is, if he doesn't kill, if he doesn't help, he or his crew could die as a result. And out here? Your crew and captain are all you have.
So it's easy.
It's also easy to follow Edward into the fray, never straying too far, keen to learn and watch his back. Izzy notices immediately that whilst Ed is an absolute savage of a fighter, he opts out of every killing blow that presents itself. He takes the eye, not the brain. The hand over a heart. Not ideal but certainly a choice.
Cannon fire is thunderous from The Ranger behind them, a team of men having stayed back to support the boarding party. They never aim for the deck, that would risk their own, but they aim high above at the foremast. Once a ship looses that, they are finished no matter the outcome.
Izzy loses track of the number of times he is almost killed in this fight, alone. Three times Edward parries a blade meant for Izzy's back or neck. Three times Izzy pivots downwards just in time to spear a man through the throat. Another two are his finishing a man pinned by Ed's dagger and nearly takes their last ditch effort to stay alive. He kills them, too, unblinking with no remorse expect for the blood that soaks his old linen shirt. Ruined, for certain. It feels like a whirling dervish like this, picking up where the other leaves off, covering and advancing in kind. Perhaps they are. Exhilaration in bliss. In victory.
There is a loud, cracking scream of the mast shattering and falling to the right, and cheers explode from their gunners. The vessel's captain, if he is even still alive, has no choice but to surrender. A Dutch merchant ship laden with spices and fabric, they will eat very well tonight, indeed.
When it is all said and done, Ben stands victorious over his gathered crew with a puffed chest. Hands on his hips he laughs before picking up a bottle of champagne they had found in the belly of the Maarseveen and shakes it. With a flick of his thumb, the cork shoots out and he sprays his boys with a cheerful (but unhinged) cackle, sips, and then sends the bottle around. The Maarseveen is anchored and left to float like a bloated carcass. A speedy getaway is made, and the party of a good day's work rages long into the night.
Not wanting to miss out, Izzy stays, but eventually excuses himself below to wash the blood from his clothes and body, promising to return with rum when he's decent. He looks like a beast and dried blood is so very uncomfortable. He sighs as he scrubs the fabric and fingers a small hole in the material. He'd had some close calls today and this shirt does nothing for protection. He tells himself that once he's saved up he'll buy something better when they next dock. That this went well and he should be proud of himself, not let all the little failings catch his attention and circle around and around play by play. How to improve for next time. What worked, what didn't. There's a lot to think about.
Sigh. There's probably no point in even trying to save this piece of shit shirt, to be honest. If only he had another.
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"Bit early to turn in," he says once within earshot. "The boys are still up there singing shanties and passing around liquor, you know."
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"I know. I'll come back up once I get this crust off. Shirt's proper focked."
This does, however, put him in the uncomfortable position of having his glove off and suddenly becoming very aware of it. His only option is to keep his hands in the scalding water, and so he does.
"Won't be a minute."
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Ed watches Izzy as he reclines slightly against a nearby surface, heaving a deep sigh, "Saw you out there with that sword. You're fucking good."
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"You think so?"
The praise fits better than the shirt, but he thrives on them both in equal measure.
"Someone has to keep an eye on your back, you never deal a final blow."
There's no heat, it's just an observation as he tucks in the long tails of the fine linen thing he's been gifted. His trousers suddenly seem very out of place, but that's a fashion problem, not a function problem, and something he can fix when they make port. The sleeves are hilariously long on him, billowing down past his hands - one of which is suspiciously dark and decorated - but there's a length of cotton cord on his satchel behind the door which he retrieves and moves to cut in half to tie as garters.
"You move so fast from man to man it's like you're in three places at once."
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The mark on Izzy’s hand doesn't go unnoticed, but Ed can't quite make out the details, and pushes off the surface he's leaning on to move closer and assist with Izzy’s sleeves, holding out a hand for the cord to be handed to him. "That's by design. Never want them to know where I'll strike next. Fear is always a pirate's greatest tool." he smirks, proud of his ability as much as any other man on board would be of their own.
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Izzy isn't sure he agrees on the leaving people alive thing, but if it's all part of the game then it's a game he will have to learn. Quite exciting, really. He has a mind for games and structure. Has a mind for knowledge.
"What I don't understand," he says instead of thanks for the help and gift to begin with,
"-is if you leave someone alive won't they just go off and come back with an armada? Dead men can't seek vengeance, either."
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"Hm, yeah, I mean, so we'll take them, too." he replies, "Guess you have to find a balance. Or traumatize them enough that they never set foot on a boat again." he shrugs, "But I can't become a legend if no one's heard of me..."
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"Guess it's about balance then, ay."
The shape on his hand is easily seen now as he holds his second sleeve to be tied. Izzy isn't looking, distracted by the mess in the bucket that used to be his shirt. Across the top of his hand in thick black ink is the cameo of a ship, framed with the modern style of Tudor roses, some shaded to represent red, others left empty for white. At the top of the frame sits the unmistakable Imperial Crown. At the bottom a large anchor tied in with rope knots. The ship itself is mighty as it crashes up against a wave and across it's bow reads HMS SPENCE and a date not long passed, so it can be nothing but a date of enlistment. Naval, through and through, but there's more. The Spence is well known for it's intense pursuit of pirates, most notably that of Francis Spriggs, and the captains Shipton, and Low. On the broad side of Izzy's palm, just under where his thumb joins, are several tally marks in neatly ordered lines.
Izzy, for his sins, has been talking all this time as he works out the merits of allowing a lone survivor against that of safety and building legacy.
"I could see you as a legend. One day you'll have a ship of your very own."
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It doesn't disgust him like it probably should. Even pirates kill other pirates. It just makes Izzy more curious. What had he done, not to earn these marks, but to make them mean nothing anymore. To make him need to seek passage on this very ship.
"Hm?" he snaps out of it, his staring obvious, "Yeah. One day."
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He sets his hands on his hips, body language open and broad. He feels rather fetching if we're being honest.
"I think you'll be a legend, Edward. You've got it in you. I can see it."
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"Keep that hidden if you want to live to see it." he teases, then leans back to recline himself on the nearby bed, giving his feet a rest. "Would you stick by me if I was?" he asks idly, not thinking much of it, such dreams are surely only those...
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...isn't he? Because Edward starts joking and carries on, which Izzy listens to as he hastily retrieves his glove and tugs it on.
"Of course I would," he answers, trying to gauge the layers of what's going on here. Izzy looks from his gloved hand and back to Edward, pulse in his throat but cautiously optimistic.
"Would.. you still want that?"
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"I'll need a first mate." he hums, giving Izzy and expectant look. Pirate killer or not... he'll still need to determine if Izzy is someone he can fully trust.
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It lures him across the little cabin to stand at Edward’s side.
“You barely know me,” is he being coy? Maybe. His eyes are very bright.
“And I didn’t think pirates had first mates.”
What’s in it for me, he almost asks, but he already knows. He can see their lives unfurling as majestically as the drop of the foresail. One little detour to Curaçao first, though.
“How are you going to woo me, then?”
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Ed waves off the commentary about pirates. Isn't the point that they could have whatever they wanted? Especially if they're the ones in charge. He contemplates it for a moment, but then Izzy asks that question, and Ed's face lights up.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed, staring up at Izzy with a crooked smile. "Oh, didn't realize I needed to." he teases, "Is the promise of status and adventure not enough?" he asks, reaching forward to tug at a shirt sleeve, "Maybe more fancy clothes? Something leather-- to hold up in a fight."
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