03-02-2021, 03:30 PM
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— frederick stirling was a man without shame. seemingly without any sensitive feelings. he went around at parties and worked his way through social crowds as though there wasn’t an anxious bone in his body. it wasn’t uncommon for him to dive into a situation headfirst without much thought, as if he somehow knew how it would end - when he truly knew nothing about the situation at all. if people didn’t like him, he stood unfazed and unbothered. why, apprehension and consternation were simply unheard of to the man. nothing could get beneath his skin in such a way to cause him to worry. at least, that was what he led everyone to believe about him.
because, if that truly was the case, his heart wouldn’t feel as though it had shipwrecked.
it felt as though he had crashed and just barely managed to make it to shore. his stomach was in knots as he walked down a road that was more familiar to him than any other path he’d traveled in the village. eyes wandered up to a familiar chalet, hands wringing together -- to fight off the cold, the blonde stubbornly convinced himself.
as hard as fred worked to make himself out to be this simple, arrogant man he portrayed, he simply wasn’t. frederick stirling was far more complex than he let on. he was not always the fearless, arrogant, and downright cruel bastard that he let himself out to be sometimes. if anything, the fact that he restrained from burning the world around him to the ground when his fingertips constantly ached to cause suffering felt more like he was doing the world a favor. if anything, bottling up who he was, who he was meant to be, was protecting those around him. and protecting himself from letting anyone get close to knowing who he truly was underneath, for if they knew, then no one would stay around for long. only his family would understand him and see him for the man he was.
someone else was close to uncovering it. hell, they probably knew more about him than freddie dared to let on. for not only did she know about the darker side of him, that ached for bloodshed and war, but also those far gentler emotions he worked so hard to lock away. emotions that were unfit for a stirling. emotions that made a man too weak, too soft around the edges. he could try and convince himself that all he hid under his skin was that he was a cruel killer - perhaps that was all that he thought he was and could be. but around mollie hawthorne, perhaps there was a chance that he could be a man with gentle hands uncalloused from war, with soft touches and warm eyes. maybe there was a chance for him.
when it was just him and mollie, his touch was featherlight, lips light as they traced the familiar curves and edges that made up molle hawthorne. her hand felt as though it didn’t belong in his sometimes, as if he didn’t deserve the last piece to the unfinished puzzle that was his heart. it felt hard to tell himself that on valentine’s day last year, he’d been a man desperate to get action, to chase after strictly carnal desires and intimacy with the woman he was now so familiar with. mollie was much more to him than that. his best friend. someone he loved.
someone who knew him more than anyone else, and still stuck around. someone that would dance with him in the bar after closing hours, and make his head spin. someone that made him wonder if, maybe, these feelings weren’t fleeting. one-sided.
though after tonight’s events, frederick wasn’t so sure. mollie had been avoiding him. surely, if these feelings were mutual, then he wouldn’t be the one standing alone and looking like a fool, would he? did mollie not want him around anymore? when fred was the one used to growing bored of the company of others, he didn’t know how to feel about being so easily dismissed by someone he’d grown to be so familiar with.
slowing to a stop at the doorstep, he visibly paused. hesitated. the pads of his fingers had pins and needles, but not with the familiar excitement of a job to do -- but with stress, anxious anticipation. then, after releasing a short breath through pursed lips, he reached a hand up and knocked a few times at her door. he didn’t wait more than a couple seconds before he reached down and twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open with familiarity. as if he was used to it. too familiar with the place to make himself out to be a stranger knocking at mollie hawthorne’s door.
when his eyes met mollie’s, the foreign anxiety he previously felt seemed more amplified yet lessened all at once. his throat felt tight, though he still forced a tight smile to his lips as he casually said, “i thought i’d find you here.” as though he had been looking for her. closing the door behind him, he closed the door and felt his worries and fears slowly start to melt away. was this what molls could do to him, make him worry and fret over nothing? crossing his arms over his chest, he stepped further into her home.
plopping himself down on the sofa, he gazed absently at the fireplace. one arm against the back of the couch as though waiting for mollie to come closer, and the other hand resting on the arm of the couch, tracing small circles into the fabric. he sat contemplatively before he huffed a short breath and observed, “you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen the mollie hawthorne at a party without a drink in her hand. let alone at her own birthday party.” an observation so casual, yet his stomach felt as though it was in knots. had she turned it down because he offered it? was it because he had put the party together that she had seemed so uncomfortable there all the while?
he didn’t dare speak about his insecurities, though his features sobered slightly as curious eyes looked towards her. “mollie. what was that about?” he prepared himself for rejection, planning to feel his heart break and shatter to the floor below him. little did he know, that it wasn’t his heart that would get irreparably broken that night.
— frederick stirling was a man without shame. seemingly without any sensitive feelings. he went around at parties and worked his way through social crowds as though there wasn’t an anxious bone in his body. it wasn’t uncommon for him to dive into a situation headfirst without much thought, as if he somehow knew how it would end - when he truly knew nothing about the situation at all. if people didn’t like him, he stood unfazed and unbothered. why, apprehension and consternation were simply unheard of to the man. nothing could get beneath his skin in such a way to cause him to worry. at least, that was what he led everyone to believe about him.
because, if that truly was the case, his heart wouldn’t feel as though it had shipwrecked.
it felt as though he had crashed and just barely managed to make it to shore. his stomach was in knots as he walked down a road that was more familiar to him than any other path he’d traveled in the village. eyes wandered up to a familiar chalet, hands wringing together -- to fight off the cold, the blonde stubbornly convinced himself.
as hard as fred worked to make himself out to be this simple, arrogant man he portrayed, he simply wasn’t. frederick stirling was far more complex than he let on. he was not always the fearless, arrogant, and downright cruel bastard that he let himself out to be sometimes. if anything, the fact that he restrained from burning the world around him to the ground when his fingertips constantly ached to cause suffering felt more like he was doing the world a favor. if anything, bottling up who he was, who he was meant to be, was protecting those around him. and protecting himself from letting anyone get close to knowing who he truly was underneath, for if they knew, then no one would stay around for long. only his family would understand him and see him for the man he was.
someone else was close to uncovering it. hell, they probably knew more about him than freddie dared to let on. for not only did she know about the darker side of him, that ached for bloodshed and war, but also those far gentler emotions he worked so hard to lock away. emotions that were unfit for a stirling. emotions that made a man too weak, too soft around the edges. he could try and convince himself that all he hid under his skin was that he was a cruel killer - perhaps that was all that he thought he was and could be. but around mollie hawthorne, perhaps there was a chance that he could be a man with gentle hands uncalloused from war, with soft touches and warm eyes. maybe there was a chance for him.
when it was just him and mollie, his touch was featherlight, lips light as they traced the familiar curves and edges that made up molle hawthorne. her hand felt as though it didn’t belong in his sometimes, as if he didn’t deserve the last piece to the unfinished puzzle that was his heart. it felt hard to tell himself that on valentine’s day last year, he’d been a man desperate to get action, to chase after strictly carnal desires and intimacy with the woman he was now so familiar with. mollie was much more to him than that. his best friend. someone he loved.
someone who knew him more than anyone else, and still stuck around. someone that would dance with him in the bar after closing hours, and make his head spin. someone that made him wonder if, maybe, these feelings weren’t fleeting. one-sided.
though after tonight’s events, frederick wasn’t so sure. mollie had been avoiding him. surely, if these feelings were mutual, then he wouldn’t be the one standing alone and looking like a fool, would he? did mollie not want him around anymore? when fred was the one used to growing bored of the company of others, he didn’t know how to feel about being so easily dismissed by someone he’d grown to be so familiar with.
slowing to a stop at the doorstep, he visibly paused. hesitated. the pads of his fingers had pins and needles, but not with the familiar excitement of a job to do -- but with stress, anxious anticipation. then, after releasing a short breath through pursed lips, he reached a hand up and knocked a few times at her door. he didn’t wait more than a couple seconds before he reached down and twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open with familiarity. as if he was used to it. too familiar with the place to make himself out to be a stranger knocking at mollie hawthorne’s door.
when his eyes met mollie’s, the foreign anxiety he previously felt seemed more amplified yet lessened all at once. his throat felt tight, though he still forced a tight smile to his lips as he casually said, “i thought i’d find you here.” as though he had been looking for her. closing the door behind him, he closed the door and felt his worries and fears slowly start to melt away. was this what molls could do to him, make him worry and fret over nothing? crossing his arms over his chest, he stepped further into her home.
plopping himself down on the sofa, he gazed absently at the fireplace. one arm against the back of the couch as though waiting for mollie to come closer, and the other hand resting on the arm of the couch, tracing small circles into the fabric. he sat contemplatively before he huffed a short breath and observed, “you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen the mollie hawthorne at a party without a drink in her hand. let alone at her own birthday party.” an observation so casual, yet his stomach felt as though it was in knots. had she turned it down because he offered it? was it because he had put the party together that she had seemed so uncomfortable there all the while?
he didn’t dare speak about his insecurities, though his features sobered slightly as curious eyes looked towards her. “mollie. what was that about?” he prepared himself for rejection, planning to feel his heart break and shatter to the floor below him. little did he know, that it wasn’t his heart that would get irreparably broken that night.
[align=center][div style="width:345px; font-family: arial; font-size:10pt; color: #060845;"]DON'T JUST STAND AND STARE
[size=10pt]*･ﾟ[abbr=24 years old, male, flintlock]✦[/abbr] COME ON AND BARE YOUR TEETH
[size=10pt]*･ﾟ[abbr=24 years old, male, flintlock]✦[/abbr] COME ON AND BARE YOUR TEETH