Work Text:
"You wear fine things well."
"This is Blackbeard! Not some namby-pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend!"
"We're just not those kinds of people."
Ed wrapped the floral robe tightly around herself. She felt the velvety insides rub against her bare skin, like a caress from someone's hand. She liked this material. It was kind to her. It didn't suffocate her like leather. Leather didn't breathe like silk, leather was a dead thing. Some people were cut from leather, she figures, maybe she was too. But she was leather that longed to be silk. She stared at the swirling pattern. As a child, she would've never dreamed that she would one day wear a garment this beautiful. And now she was.
But at what cost?