Israel considers this for a moment as well. It's a question he's asked himself with increasing frequency the last long while. Honestly compels him, though.
"Freedom?"
A sip. There's guarded but worn emotion in his voice when he speaks next.
"I can't go back there."
England, he means.
The ring tied at his throat feels tighter than ever. The glove on his hand stuck like tar.
That word hangs in the air long enough for Ed to feel it begin to lay heavily over him. He grits his teeth, because it doesn't feel like freedom to him, not completely. Certainly he is living outside of law or order but there are still rules and expectations of him. Of who he's allowed to be.
"Neither of us can, can we?" he mutters, that much is true. He'd fled his duties as a soldier... he wouldn't be given that opportunity again. Next time he gets caught, he's dead for certain.
Ain't that always the way. Always a hair away from death. Always lurking around the next corner, the next job, the next risky docking to resupply. Izzy knows he'll have to be more alert than ever. Edward may seem like he has his head back in the game but he's hurting. And that makes him like a wild animal.
Unpredictable and extremely dangerous.
A sigh, looking to change the subject. There's no use being upset about ghosts.
Which is, of course, all that's waiting for him back in England and the only hope he'd have at the end of a hangman's noose.
"I don't know, why don't we do something fun. Let our hair down a little."
Yes, a great idea.
"Let's find ourselves a little ship and let loose. Kill 'em all and lock the helm towards land. Remind everyone who we are, ay? That'll cheer you up."
Fun is a relative term, but he'll hear his first mate out on this one. He turns, watching Izzy inquisitively as he explains himself. The idea of letting off some steam isn't so bad, but Ed wonders if he'll be expected to do the killing. He's only indirectly killed others since his father's death; technically fire or the ocean or his men had killed the others.
"Just like old times." he replies, trying to sound enthusiastic. He doesn't.
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no subject
"Freedom?"
A sip. There's guarded but worn emotion in his voice when he speaks next.
"I can't go back there."
England, he means.
The ring tied at his throat feels tighter than ever. The glove on his hand stuck like tar.
no subject
That word hangs in the air long enough for Ed to feel it begin to lay heavily over him. He grits his teeth, because it doesn't feel like freedom to him, not completely. Certainly he is living outside of law or order but there are still rules and expectations of him. Of who he's allowed to be.
"Neither of us can, can we?" he mutters, that much is true. He'd fled his duties as a soldier... he wouldn't be given that opportunity again. Next time he gets caught, he's dead for certain.
no subject
Unpredictable and extremely dangerous.
A sigh, looking to change the subject. There's no use being upset about ghosts.
Which is, of course, all that's waiting for him back in England and the only hope he'd have at the end of a hangman's noose.
"I don't know, why don't we do something fun. Let our hair down a little."
Yes, a great idea.
"Let's find ourselves a little ship and let loose. Kill 'em all and lock the helm towards land. Remind everyone who we are, ay? That'll cheer you up."
no subject
"Just like old times." he replies, trying to sound enthusiastic. He doesn't.