Shadows of the Dawn


POSTED: Sat May 25, 2019 2:59 pm

peel the scars from off my back, I don't need them anymore

Thumb ran over the smooth surface of carved figurine as thoughts raced wildly, debating with none but his own over what lay held in hand. Was it too much? Too little? Perhaps it was too soon to be dredging up all too fresh memories all over again though the hound was certain that they would never be able to be forgotten in the first place. These swirling questions lingered, forever unanswered, and would only remain so less he decided to act. Nothing was certain in life, all he knew for sure was what he wished to do.

Jackdaw was not certain of their customs, over what would be deemed appropriate or what would only broil up unwanted disdain from newfound companions. Yet no matter the doubts or reluctance felt thoughts would not deviate from the gruesome images imbedded within his skull. Those which marred the very essence of what he knew of Calhoun, though in truth he had not known much to begin with. Just enough to form a loose kinship with one once known as extended family.

That is what Santiago had referred to them as when they first met and it was this which stuck with him even now. They may not have been family by blood but by something more. So the Saint had taken to his craft, an occupation to busy himself. Help distract and occupy his thoughts when they refused to focus on nothing less than what had been seen. That haunting visage last witnessed morphed into something more peaceful against wooden construct.

Sharp yet tender features set against polished wood as wide brimmed hat held firmly between tall pointed ears and the etchings of a clergy man’s collar laced about the neck. Only faint traces of wrapped cloth trailed further down but for the most part it portrayed flesh. The marks of fluffed fur in accent of what had once adorned down to the notched held within an ear; all tell-tale signs of who this was meant to resemble.

One could only hope it was not seen as something done in poor taste. That he did not overstep boundaries with the work which consumed him. If nothing else it eased his own mind but silently he prayed that maybe, just maybe, it would to the same for another. Bring a small sense of comfort to the tattered coyote he had come to know and if not him perhaps the woman who screamed ‘til her voice gave out. They were those whispered to be the closest to the Reverend. Those that had known him before the hound had even joined up with this ragtag group of strangers.

With a short sigh, cloth wrapped gently around the figure before fingers came to coil nervously about it. Those heavy steps never ceased as they steadily carried him to where another seemed to linger along the camp’s outskirts. Soft voice called out in near silent refrains in hopes of gaining his attention, “Santiago?” Jackdaw waited only a moment longer before shuffling closer seeking out a place at the man’s side, “Do you, uh, do you have a moment?” Slowly hands twisted against the fabric cloaked figure, clutching it closer to himself though never attempting to hide it completely from view.

Del Cenere Gang
Las Brasas (NPC)
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Venerate savagery, Die savagely

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