[M] On a stormy sea, tossed in the waves

Twelve

POSTED: Tue Jul 16, 2019 11:17 pm

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.


(000)

Joint Rank thread -- Maestro Cervecero for John and Gaucho for Twelve
| Set at the Ugly Coyote steps -- The Trade Post

A wedding on the horizon evoked feelings within himself, feelings he didn't exactly care to relive or revisit. Fuck feelings, they were nothing if trouble.

He could force himself onto the focusing of getting shit all together and ready though. That should take up enough of his brainpower, and distract him sufficiently. With only a singular still for all of Del Cenere to share, it was imperative that they cooperate to use it to its fullest.

John took Obstinado out with a couple of baskets to collect of the bounty found here. Berries abounded, and high stalks of grain ripe for the picking. By the noontime his packs were bulging and he was ready to be done.

Halfway back, his mule began to limp, favoring his left shoulder, and he was forced to stop and inspect the animal's hoof to make sure he didn't have a stone lodged. Nothing found, John frowned and led the stallion back home.

He sent Ronnie to go and get Twelve, since she seemed to know so much about horses and the like.

In the meanwhile, sat on the steps, John worked away at crushing his bounty in a large wooden bowl, mashing it to a pulp that could be easily fermented and boiled for their celebratory preparations. When one batch was sufficiently mashed, he poured it into a container and filled the bowl with more berries.

Johnathan Winthrop
I'm a dead man walkin'
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Jace
Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Thu Jul 18, 2019 9:37 pm

Can't go back, never go back - forward into the rust and dust

Dahlia had come by and dropped off Spitfire earlier in the day, and Twelve had traded Orville with her so she wouldn’t be without a mount. The gray coyote had been working with the stallion on and off, and he was making progress. The horse had a few bad habits that she was breaking; some were due to his own personality, and some, to the naivety of his rider.

She had been riding him for the last couple hours, wearing him out. He tended to be more pliable when tired, and now that the sweat was frothing up on his withers, he was being extremely compliant, heeding her every order. Twelve allowed him to slow from a trot to a walk, when she saw Ronald Winthrop approaching.

The rusty coyote informed her that his brother John had called for her, and she raised a brow. He explained it was for John’s mule, Of course it is. She said, and spurred Spitfire out to meet her Espejo. Finding him was not difficult, he stank as much of booze and she did, and also, in this case, fruit.

Twelve trotted up to find John working on a mash in a red-neck mortar and pestle. She dismounted the stallion and tied him off on a long lead, the horse immediately went to roll in the dirt to rid himself of sweat.

The scarred woman brushed herself off of horse dust and grime and strode up to her counterpart and crossed her arms, You rang? she said sarcastically.

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Nat
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POSTED: Tue Jul 30, 2019 8:43 pm

hangman is coming down from the gallows, and I don't have very long

There were days when not even drinking helped, not one damn bit. Those days were the worst ones, when nightmares kept him awake and he bowed with tiredness. When the bile on his tongue tasted stronger than normal. He wished it'd all just fuck off and leave him to his lonesome.

She arrived on the horse he knew belonged to his nephew's girl, and he couldn't even drum up the energy to give her the up and down that was the norm. Christ he needed a drink, or a nice 2x4 to the back of his head.

Aye, ah did.

John paused briefly in his mashing of the fruits to look up at her, feeling the itchiness behind his eyes and wanting to just close them, just for a nice while maybe.

He started limpin', on th'way back here. Ah checked, and there ain't nuthin' can be seen is wrong with him. John's head tossed towards the mule tied up close by.

Was wondrin' if you'd be so kind as t' be takin' a look at him fer me. I'd make it worth yer while. He grinned, a facsimile of his usual cocky smile, but well, at least he gave it a go.

Once ah'm done here, course.

Hands resumed their mashing and his bowl was full of the sticky fruit slurry, he cast about for the container and slopped it on in with the other.

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Johnathan Winthrop
I'm a dead man walkin'
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Jace
Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Wed Aug 14, 2019 12:59 pm

Can't go back, never go back - forward into the rust and dust

He seemed down, his voice more gravelly and his words more chopped than normal. She wondered what was up with him, he tended to be a pretty jolly fellow most of the time, at least, her definition of jolly.

John let her know that his mule had developed a limp, and she turned her skinny neck to look at the beast. He was standing still for now, but one of his back hooves was lifted slightly and he had all of his weight on his other three legs, Mmm… She hummed from the back of her throat and walked over to take a look.

In repayment, John offered her some of the brew he was working on, Hopefully it doesn’t end up as fruity as it’s smellin’ right now. She mused as she greeted the mule, running her hand along his face and neck and then to his back.

Twelve could feel heat coming off the equine’s left hip, and it got warmer the further down his leg her hands travelled; definitely some inflammation in the leg. The mule protested only by turning his head to peer at her curiously, so she knew it was not terribly painful, just uncomfortable.

His ankle was swollen something fierce, she lifted the leg to peer at the hoof, which while dirty seemed fine, Hmmm…. She hummed again. Gently, she began to palpate up the leg, watching the mule’s reaction. It seemed the most tender places were the ankle, and then the large muscle that connected the leg to the hip.

Twelve stepped back and scratched the john behind the ear, Seems to be like he’s simply got a rolled ankle. She said, I can give him some relief with a massage right now, but just don’t ride him for a while and let him soak his feet a cold river for a few days, it should sort itself out. Unfortunately, if it didn’t, there was not much she could do. If an infection flared up, she could try to treat it medicinally, but there didn’t seem to be much in the ways of medicines in these parts.

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POSTED: Wed Aug 21, 2019 2:57 pm

hangman is coming down from the gallows, and I don't have very long

His mouth tasted like ass, and frankly he'd much rather look at Twelve than dwell on the face in his dreams, it was less likely to make him hurl.

The mule hadn't told him much beyond 'pain', and that was too vague a notion for John to start fucking about with him. He was not an experienced horse medic by any stretch of the word. He was competent and that was it.

John snorted, and let it go, he probably couldn't even muster the energy to get himself going right now anyway. Instead he yawned widely,

Ah can't promise it won't be. There was a shrug of shoulders. Sometimes the booze did whatever it damn well pleased. Including turn sour as all hell and make both himself and Wayne puke their ever lovin' guts up.

He was almost done with his collection of fruit, and now that his hand was fully saturated with juice and pulp. He'd need to wash himself or he'd be sticky all day. The must would go into the batch to be boiled and the sweetness extracted. John wonderd if he still had time to gather grains too, that'd made it more starchy.

Twelve murmured again, and John's head dipped up, green paying attention.

Of course the dumb bastard had gone and rolled an ankle. John sighed, nodding along to her directions of care.

If'n you'd be so kind, I'm sure he'd appreciate it. Myself too. He went to tip a hat he did not posses and instead smeared fruit pulp on his face. Groaning exasperatedly he wiped his head against his arm and resigned himself to jumping in the lake sometime this afternoon.

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Johnathan Winthrop
I'm a dead man walkin'
Del Cenere Gang
El Probado
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Jace
Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Wed Aug 21, 2019 3:14 pm

Can't go back, never go back - forward into the rust and dust

Twelve snorted out a bit of a laugh when John smeared a bit of the red juice over his forehead, but there was no smile. Something was really bothering him. Part of her wanted to ask, but she hesitated; this whole weird relationship between the two of them, she wasn’t sure that she wanted it to be anything more than rolling in the hay and having a drink or two. They seemed to share enough misery, Twelve was the last person who should play therapist.

He asked that she do the massage and she nodded, patting the mule on the rump, Alrighty buddy, here we go. She said.

First thing she did was start rubbing in small, tight circles starting at his croup. It was all very superficial, she was just beginning to warm up the area for deeper pressure. The mule finally released his neck from turning it back to look at her, and began to relax under her touch, she could feel the muscles begin to soften.

Twelve hadn’t done this in a long time, at least, not for anyone else’s horse. Orville was lucky to have her as an owner, he got all kinds of rubbing and massages if she felt he needed it. Before that, she had done this mostly for her master’s horses. Thoroughbred beauties that he bred and sold; athletic creatures primed for show and speed rather than hard work. In fact, those horses had been treated miles better than Twelve and her family.

Despite this, she had never been jealous or angry with the horses; they were just as much slaves as she was.

Once Twelve believed the mule thoroughly warmed up, she began to press harder onto certain parts of his backside. The point of his hip, his dock, and the stifle of his legs were all still pretty tight and needed extra attention. Obstinado shifted slightly under the pressure of her hands; it certainly must be uncomfortable, but despite that he seemed to be enjoying it. As Twelve worked, she looked up to look at John, but said nothing, instead just letting her eyes rest upon his frame; he certainly was pleasant to look at, despite his current mood.

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POSTED: Wed Aug 21, 2019 4:11 pm

hangman is coming down from the gallows, and I don't have very long

She laughed, presumably at his dumbassery and despite himself his mouth turned up at the corners some. He really needed to get the stick out of his ass, and maybe beat himself around the head with it too. It was hard to shake away the fog in his brain however, and almost immediately the smile-in-progress was gone again.

Done with his mashing, he licked the remaining juices from his hand and tried her force his pickled-brain to actually function. He did have to wait for Miss Escuella to mosy on down here, cause he weren't allowed to touch her still without her present. She didn't trust him that much yet, one day though maybe..

With one hand semi clean John took himself to rest his head against it upon his knee. The energy to do anything just wasn't there today. Staring at the dirt between his feet, until he felt her eyes upon him. The weight of it made the spaces between his shoulders tense, and he hunched over more. She had often stared at him, waiting for him to make the slightest mistake, it was a hard wired reaction.

Andrew would have kicked him right up the ass.. but Andy wasn't here anymore. His heart clenched, blue danced in his mind and John's head sunk lower. He needed a drink, that much was twisting in his stomach, damn this marriage crap had got him all broken up again.

Finally he raised his head and looked back at her looking at him. The lack of expected anger helped loosen something in his guts at least, what a time to be alive.

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Johnathan Winthrop
I'm a dead man walkin'
Del Cenere Gang
El Probado
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Jace
Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Wed Aug 21, 2019 4:30 pm

Can't go back, never go back - forward into the rust and dust

After she had rightly turned the mule’s backside into well-kneaded dough did he finally put his hind hoof down. Still not much weight on it, but it was a start. Twelve looked away right as John caught her gaze, and went to scratch Obstinado on the back of head. He suddenly brayed loudly, You’re welcome. She said.

Then, sauntering over to John, she took a seat on the steps of the saloon beside him, That’s a good mule you got there, you did well asking for my help, could have gotten a lot worse than it is. At least most of the folk around here realized when they were ignorant, and did something about it. Dahlia for one, John for two, and she was sure that, eventually, more would come seeking out her skills.

Peering at the mash, Twelve reached up to swat a biting fly off her neck, Don’t look too bad I guess. That was the closest them to a compliment he was going to get out of her today, Though if you don’t want to wait, I have a little bit of a nip of something back at my shack, if you’re up for it. She offered. Some company wouldn’t be so bad, and John seemed like he needed it more than her. As much of a hard-ass Twelve was, she had always been pretty attuned to how others were feeling. Most of the time she could give a care less about it, but something about Espejo… well, it was what it was, she really didn’t want to dwell on it too much.

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