◜ . black flies || writing . ◞
#7
[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 1.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #2b2b2b"][size=16pt]AS THE LESSER OF TWO EVILS , IT PAYS TO BE THE NICE GUY SOMETIMES . . .[/size]

tw. mention of attempted murder, threats of harm, violence.

❝ Was wondering when I’d next see you. ❞ His voice was bare and restrained, proclaiming little exhilaration in his words as he shifted his weight from one side to the other. It was a face riddled with guilt, whilst veiled with that plain stoicism he was so notorious for. It only made Frank despise him even more, and yet his lips bared the closest semblance of a smile that he could muster. The corner of his lip twitched in greeting as pale hues peered up towards Edmund, where the younger brother stood at the front door of the lodge.

Originally, it’d been Franklin’s plan to visit his good friend, Harrison, down in the quaint village of Flintlock to invite him and his family to his wedding. With whatever disorganized assemblage of a wedding he and Roman had put together for themselves in a week’s time, Frank knew that he ought to invite the people who meant something to him. He couldn’t say that he had many genuine friends at all - he only really had a small handful - but the few that he would invite would make his unpretentious day of unity even more special.

He would not invite his family. Not after what they did to him.

Frank would have been lying if he said that he didn’t plan to stop by the lodge in order to give his brother a few choice words following the attack that’d been furtively planned behind Frank’s back. He wanted it to be seen as an impromptu trip, but he couldn’t deny the way his skin burned with blood boiling. He wanted his revenge served cold, his own deliberate and strategic thinking dictating his next moves. Frank wanted Edmund to die, but he was here to deliver a fate worse than death.

❝ Effort goes both ways, you know? ❞ Frank uttered dispassionately, wandering closer towards his brother as he began to remove his beanie. Lips curled downwards in thought, Eddie tipping his head in agreement before taking a step back to allow Frank inside.

❝ I’m not sure under the current circumstances that would be a good idea. ❞ Frank wanted to scoff. Yeah, that was quite the understatement. Whilst he knew for sure that Eddie was referencing current political turmoil between Flintlock Lodge and Bluestem Prairie, to him it felt more like a guilty conscience making a confession. Edmund was a coward. An absolute coward.

❝ Yeah. You must be right. ❞ Frank replied curtly, removing his rucksack and dropping it by the door before removing his coat and placing it on top.

❝ You’re welcome to stay the night. ❞ Pointed out Ed.

Frank shrugged, ❝ Gotta get home. Got two dogs to look after. ❞ No mention of Roman Darrow from neither Frank nor Eddie. He watched his younger brother's face twitch for a split second before Eddie nodded his head down the hallway.

❝ At least stay for a drink or two. ❞

A drink did indeed turn into two, Eddie updating Frank on personal matters such as the birth of Frank’s two new nephews, and Frank telling Eddie what he tended to get up to down in the prairie. After a long conversation between two brothers, Eddie led Frank to his office where he proceeded to show him photographs that he had taken of the two newborns when they were first born.

He always had an ulterior motive.

Returning the photographs back into the drawer, Eddie walked back around to stand nearby his brother again, sitting right on the edge of his desk. ❝ I’m glad you came to see me, by the way. I have a couple of updates regarding the family business. ❞

❝ Oh really? ❞ Frank truly did his utmost to sound mildly surprised, and yet his voice lacked any incredulity that Eddie likely hoped for. Of course there had to have been updates on the family business, one being that Eddie had ordered somebody in this family to try and murder Frank’s own fiance due to some false belief that Roman’s death would unravel the wicked works of Bluestem’s frequent takeovers.

Edmund wasted a bullet on an innocent man.

❝ I’m sure you saw the village has been renovated, yes? ❞ Eddie’s voice quietened, as if he tried to prevent the world outside of the confinements of this office from hearing what he would admit next. Those devious ulterior motives. ❝ Flintlock is getting a [i]lot of resources coming in from it, which is excellent. The Algarottis, the De La Moreaus, the Stiners - we’re back in business with them again. Resources from them - anything that we want - and in return they’re allowed to come and go from the village to strike up their own deals. ❞[/i]

❝ Like drugs? And weapons? ❞ Frank quirked a brow. His brother was unbelievable.

Eddie took a sip of his drink, ❝ Sure. I’m providing for my group in the best way I can- ❞

❝ The only way you know. ❞ Frank corrected.

Eddie’s eyes were stern as they stared across at Frank, silent in the tension for a moment. He finally spoke, ❝ Sure. It doesn’t diminish the legitimacy of what I’m doing here, though. ❞

Was his brother deluded? Frank huffed a short breath of bemused laughter. Eddie was certainly deluded. ❝ You’re allowing criminals to waltz through your territory. Total free reign over it. ❞

❝ It’s not like it hasn’t been that way since Alfred brought us here. Before you begin with that judgemental look on your face, you better remember what we are, ‘ey? Criminals - you and me, both. ❞ Pointer finger wagging at Frank, Frank felt an overwhelming desire to snap it in two. Instead, he stared at his brother silently before finishing his drink off and placing the glass on the desk.

❝ Anyway, speaking of family business- ❞ Eddie continued, clearing his throat before he announced, ❝ The family here have made a unanimous decision to drop ❛ Moray ❜ from our family name. We cannot digress from tradition for any longer, so… What I’m saying is that I’d like for you to do the same, if you would? ❞ Eddie watched over expectantly, brows bunching together ever-so-slightly as Frank stared back with slightly parted lips.

Ed shook his head slowly, as if it would rattle up more words for him to spew. ❝ There’s still a place for you in the family, Frank. You know that. ❞ As if the timing couldn’t be more right, in Eddie’s mind. After killing Frank’s fiance, Eddie could so easily lure Frank back into the family business to resume as normal. This man was sick - worse than their father, in Frank’s mind. Alfred would not have been so traitorous as to kill his in-laws.

Lips finally twitched into a smile of disbelief, Frank shifting his weight before he stated plainly, ❝ No. ❞ Eddie’s eyes darted across Frank’s face in silence, Frank slowly narrowing his eyes. ❝ I won’t just drop ❛ Moray ❜ from my family name. I’m no longer going to be a Stirling-Moray or a Stirling or any fucking bullshit derivative of this dysfunctional family anymore. ❞

This felt good. It felt so good to see Ed’s face twitch with a look so foreign to him; offense. Slowly, Frank nodded his head, tongue gliding across his top row of teeth in thought before he revealed, ❝ I’m getting married next week... Yeah - married. ❞ With the surprise riddled across Eddie’s features, Frank took the time to sift around in the pocket of his jeans, then revealing a used bullet before calmly lowering it down on the desk beside his brother.

The bullet which nearly killed Roman.

❝ Thought you probably wanted this back…? ❞ Bitter and vituperative, his snide words were like bullet wounds to Edmund’s soul. Good. He deserved it. ❝ I would've told you sooner that Roman had proposed, but then you were so hellbent on killing him that I thought against it. You failed, by the way. He’s alive. He’s doing better than ever, and he’s making me a Darrow. So, you can take that whole ❛ Stirling-Moray ❜ shit and shove it. ❞

Eddie worked his jaw, that innate reaction to stress so visible to the man who grew up alongside him for over two decades. He wouldn’t speak, though. Frank knew that he was too much of a prideful bastard to ever fess up to his own failures. To ever accept that what he did hadn’t turned out successful. Frank began to hum a breath of laughter briefly, a fire ignited in his eyes, until suddenly he grabbed a fistful of Ed’s shirt, shoving him harshly against the wall. And, with a sleight of hand, he removed Eddie’s own hunting knife from its sheath, the tip of the blade pressed against the taut skin of his throat.

❝ Look at me. ❞ He growled in a low utterance, Eddie’s eyes shifting around before Frank pressed the blade more firmly against his throat. ❝ I said look at me. ❞ Words were like warning signs, red and flashing. Dangerous. Without anymore resistance, Ed’s gaze slowly slid back to look his older brother in the eyes, Frank’s face inscrutable. ❝ You do as little as mention a Darrow again, I will find you and I will make you wish you were dead. And if I can’t do that for any reason - say you get a man less cowardly than yourself to lay a hand on Roman or me - there’s a whole swarm of us out there looking for any reason to burn this place down to the ground. You are outnumbered, Eddie. ❞

Nostrils flared as he breathed his warning quietly, watching the way Eddie’s breath picked up in pace, the way unreadable features were deceived by a glimmer of fear in his eyes. ❝ You and I, we’re no different. I may be the nice one, but we were both raised the same. We don’t rest ‘til the job’s done. And if that means I’ve got to skin you right from the bone? I wouldn’t hesitate. ❞ Then, without delay, he sent the knife back before lodging it sharply into the wall, a hair’s breadth away from Edmund’s eye.

Frank took a small step back, observing the way Eddie froze in fear, before he wordlessly turned and left the room, satisfied with his successful job. He strode down the hall and passed the lounge, nonreactive to the sound of William’s listless greeting, ❝ Oh, my favorite cousin- ❞ Eyes fixated on the front door ahead, Frank did nothing more than lift his fist to show William his middle finger as he returned to his belongings. He tugged his coat back on, pulled his beanie messily over his head, lugged his rucksack back up over his shoulder, and then he left the lodge for what would hopefully be the very last time.


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I CAN'T HELP MYSELF THE MOMENT THAT I LET IT GO
[sup]IS WHEN I FIND I'M IN CONTROL, I'M IN CONTROL.

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◜ . black flies || writing . ◞ - by harlem. - 06-18-2019, 10:11 PM
Re: ◜ . black flies || writing . ◞ - by FRANKLIN. - 06-27-2020, 11:35 PM



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