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Moving John to my multi-muse blog, because I think I’ll be better able to keep up activity that way.

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@veterantreasurer continued from here.

“It’s just some books, man. I can remember a book title. Anyway, I know Dryden’s translation is kind of, y’know, old-fashioned, but it sounds good. And I always hated that my dad keeps these big first edition hardcovers on the shelf for show. I thought they might deserve someone who’d actually give a shit about Plutarch.” 

It wasn’t going to be John. He was more of an Aristotelian philosophy man than a historical biography man, at least as far as things he’d been forced to read.

“I mean... I guess the five dollar paperback at the bookstore would be more practical, if you’d rather have that, but lugging around a few volumes of big books seemed more your style.”

He was very, honestly determined to try to make this seem like Not a Thing, but he’d probably babbled a little bit too much just now to really pull that shit off, so he shrugged to try to cover it.

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MY LAURENS MUSE WOKE UP

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The Love Witch (2016), dir. Anna Biller

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When you arguing with babe and you start getting turned on

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I am waiting in anxious expectation of an answer from Captain Wallop—a man of great interest and credit among the british—who was indulged with a limited parole to negotiate my exchange by composition [...] I need not inform Your Excellency how I have languished in so long a separation from you—and how anxious I am to assure you in person of the veneration and attachment of your faithful Aid.

— To George Washington from John Laurens, 4 October 1780

Believe me sincere when I assure you, that my warmest wishes accompany Captn Wallops endeavours & your expectations of exchange—and that nothing but the principle of Justice & policy wch I have religiously adhered to of exchanging Officers in the order of their captivity (where rank would apply) has prevented my every exertion to obtain your release & restoration to a family where you will be receiv’d with open arms by every individual of it—but from none with more cordiality & true affection than your Sincere friend and obliged Servant

— From George Washington to John Laurens, 13 October 1780

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temperedfinest:

Elizabeth retreated even further. Perhaps she ought to have gone to him - she was not alone in hurting, and she knew it. But renewed pains made her selfish.

“I’m not going to allow any one to forget about Alexander. Most certainly not his son, I will never forget him and I won’t allow it for anyone else.” The very thought - but he was not listening to her, or so it seemed, just pressing an idea that tore her soul to shreds.

“I will not put Philip with someone who does not love his father.”

He looked at her, confused and still feeling the fumes of his anger.

“Not you. Everyone else.”

He’d seen a lot of friends die. A lot of people he hadn’t known very well too. It had never been long before people either didn’t say much about them. There were faces he could bring up in his mind whose names he could no longer remember.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

“He shouldn’t ‘ve been there. He should’ve been here.”

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He nodded vacantly, not recognizing the emotion in her voice. His mind was on a thousand different moments that he’d made himself forget over the past months. No, before that. He’d been trying to forget since Alexander had told him about Elizabeth. 

He’d been trying to erase Alexander from his mind and heart.

And now that he could see Alexander fading, the memory of what he’d done already being twisted, he couldn’t let that happen anymore.

“They won’t know what he did,” he said, softly. He looked away, panicked suddenly, as if there was something he needed to do, but he didn’t know what. “They’ll forget him. They’ll forget... They’ll lie.”

Disgust that he had even considered she would take it as a valid option was evident. It was no less obvious in her response.

“I would never.” She hissed, voice dripping with emotion. Elizabeth dropped his hand, the pale cloth unraveling. “Henry thinks I owe him something because he’s kind enough to marry me despite my circumstances. Because I’ve not the means to care for myself…” Eliza was blinded by her own anger, vision suffering the film of tears that welled despite her best efforts. She cried on the matter often still, and each time it opened the entirety of an ache she had done all she could to forget.

“I would not… sell myself… that way if it were not entirely for the good of my son. And it is not, I’m completely aware of that.

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why should i resolve things peacefully when i can fucking punch you in the face

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                                              there’s some good in this world                                                   and it’s worth fighting for

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Laurens stared at her, his brow furrowed in pain, but he still couldn’t feel his hands. He hadn’t allowed his thoughts to really rest on Alexander in so long, but now...

He remembered the way his voice sounded the first time he told him about his family. They’d known each other some time by then, and Laurens had recognized it as a sign of complete trust. It had stayed with him.

To think of Alexander’s child being raised with Henry’s voice alluding to those stories--even the ones he didn’t know and would never know--with scorn. As if crawling out of those depths to achieve glory was something to be ashamed of. They’d fought and Alexander had died for the dream of a nation that would be better than that. Better than someone like Henry Livingston, who could stand in judgement of a man for nothing more than the circumstances of his birth.

“Elizabeth, you can’t let that man raise Alexander’s--” His voice caught. His eyes were stinging. His heart was beating hard in his chest. He needed to go somewhere else--somewhere that no one would see this, but he didn’t move.

“John!”

So rarely, even after so long of inhabiting close quarters, did Elizabeth say his name that it felt strange even to herself. But, her mother had calmed her enough that when he entered, her formalities dropped. She flew to him, pulling his hand into hers.

“What have you done? What did he do?” She panicked, pulling her neckerchief free from her bodice and dabbing carefully at the bloodied skin. “Is he — are you okay?”

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temperedfinest:

He was doubled over, blood already drenching the white of his shirt. He wouldn’t have said anything even if it had been physically possible, but pain rang through his whole body, incapacitating any reaction he’d have beyond panicked yelling.

Philip came in then, too worried for the result of doing nothing in this situation not to.

“Mister Laurens,” He stood cautiously close, “Go to my daughter, have my wife tend your hand. I will deal with Henry.”

Laurens looked at Schuyler for a moment as if he’d forgotten anyone else was in the house. When he remembered himself, he nodded, but before he left he said, “Say another word against Alexander, and you won’t walk away from it next time.”

By the time he reached Elizabeth and her mother, his hands were shaking. He didn’t feel pain from his swelling knuckles--not even where the skin had split where he’d cracked Livingston’s nose--so it was something else that caused the tremor.

“I’m afraid I lost my temper,” he said quietly, his eyes glazed over.

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temperedfinest:

“No.”

The workings of his jaw were easily visible, his own pride testing just how far he can push the other man. “The name should have died with him. I’ll be damned if I allow him to taint what had been a pure lineage.”

There it was.

For a moment, he looked away, his mouth in a tight smile that was not a smile. When he looked back, it was to swing.

First the right fist slammed into Henry’s jaw, then the left square into the bridge of his nose--the movements quick, but powerful. He’d thrown a few punches.

“What was that?” he shouted. “I didn’t hear you say her name yet.”

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temperedfinest:

“This is no time for talk of political stances,” Henry responded bitterly, blind as always to the ticks rising in the other man.

“I think it a funny thing that a man such as yourself, with tastes as they say you have, should have anything to say on the honor of a lady. However, because I hold such feelings of love and adoration for Miss Schuyler, I would gladly accept her despite what is said about the improper indulgences in which she has explored this last year. She will be lucky if another man is willing to overlook it. I have more say in this than I believe you willing to recognize, Laurens.”

There was a swirl of anger threatening to blacken his vision, to lead him to act in a way he’d prefer not to. It had been such a lovely morning. It had been such a quiet few months. He had been the image of self-control.

His voice was low, dangerous. “Her name. Is Mrs. Hamilton.” His eyebrow quirked over his intense stare, daring him. “Say it.”

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temperedfinest:

“Or is it that I’ve no patience for men who would rather have someone in all ways but in name. You act as if it is not in Betsey’s best interest to be cared for by someone with legitimate proximity - she should have returned to her parent’s care, not remained under yours. I’ve no intention to speak ill of the dead, but I’ve also no intention to watch Elizabeth be hidden away in wedlock with her son and the name of a dead man at twenty-five.”

Elizabeth was gone, pulled away by a mother with no intentions to quell the conversation. Tucked away in a room with her son. She’d been near breaking, hyperventilation and panic settled in her chest.  

With Elizabeth taken away, there were no more fetters on his anger or hesitation in speaking of his fallen friend.

“In his short life, Alexander Hamilton did more for you and all of us than you will ever do for any person, even if you live a century. Perhaps you would prefer British rule, but those of us who favor Liberty know him to be a hero, and cowards should tread lightly over his bones.” 

His hands were curled into tight fists, the knuckles turned pale. “And as for his wife--his wife--she has been faithful and will remain so until she has chosen a proper man to care for herself and Alexander’s son. I assure you that you will have no say in that determination.”

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temperedfinest:

“Perhaps now that you and the lady are vacationing together, you will no longer find it easy to turn a deaf ear to the rumors which you seem so able to do before. I’m thinking of what is best for the lady, and for the son she will other wise need to raise fatherless. Unless your intentions are less pure than you’ve so far made known.” Henry, agitated that anyone attempt to derail his plans, stepped a little nearer, daring press closer to John in the room.

Elizabeth’s breast rose with noticeably more rapidness than before. She should have sat when suggested, should have to another room long before, but she’d made an attempt at maintaining her composure and it was now recognizably a mistake.

If Livingston was intending to inspire a fight or flight response, the light in Laurens eyes gave away which he would choose. 

He tilted up his chin at the taller man. “Rumors are of no interest to me, regardless of where I am. I know what is in my mind, and those whose opinion I value know me and my loyalty to... Mr. Hamilton.” He drew a slow breath. “As it is, you verge on insult, sir, stacked upon the insult you’ve clearly already levied upon Mrs. Hamilton. Perhaps your own baser interests have blinded you to the behavior that is more becoming of a gentleman.”