[m] i'll break my chains, into the bush i'll go

POSTED: Wed May 22, 2019 10:41 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.

And the stars will be your eyes, And the wind will be my hands

He lay awake, propped on an elbow, while he picked over his nails slow, considering, speculating, his eyes dry and sleepless. Somewhere outside, he swore he could hear the occasional soft sound of Twelve's snoring. He wet his lips, drawing that tongue against his wiry whiskers, before his pallid green eyes slipped over to Evelyn's shape, unsure if she was asleep or not. Santiago didn't want to leave her alone - and he was sure she hated it, though they shared the amiable silence in their grief. He could see her ear twitch mildly, and he could feel his chest tighten a moment from the small movement, hearing her wail that day on echo on his mind's loop.

He'd failed her.

He'd failed Calhoun, and his memory ventured back to the foolish hope and prospect that they hadn't been followed so far north, how sure he'd felt. How foolish. How naive.

A cry, low and sweeping, split the air. A stranger. A wolf.

His brow knit at a commotion, a shout, and the scream of a horse, Bruni's keening high and thin over the others, and there was the telltale thunder of hoof beats. Like a shot, Santiago's hands shot out to Evelyn with disregard for her slumber, and pulled the small coyote from his tent with an alarmed noise - and within hardly a heartbeat, the two of them sprawled on the ground, his own body coiled over hers to protect out of sheer instinct, the compulsion, Vegas had tore through the old canvas, flattening it while she peeled away into the darkness.

"Shit" he hissed, ducking his head as Bruni jumped over the two coyotes curled onto the ground, Santiago crushing Evelyn's shape to his ribs while his heart pounded loudly.

Monday, May 20th, night - SORRY MANDI AGAIN, LEMME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO CHANGE ANYTHING | [wc — --] template by hilli, image from Wayne Stadler
Last edited by Santiago Tejada on Thu May 23, 2019 9:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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POSTED: Thu May 23, 2019 5:23 pm

Laying on her side, her clothed back to the only companion she had left in this godforsaken hell – a hell that had dogged their heels for most of their miserable lives, Evelyn Escuella stared hard into the surrounding dimness and silently grieved. She thought of all those that they had lost before – of their parents and their friends and their neighbors – and felt the wrinkled her nose at the terrible weight of injustice and regret.

Calhoun had survived all the odds and overcome every obstacle that they faced, always with Santiago and herself at his side. They were the last of the refugees from Rattler's Gulch; how awful, how atrociously unfair, that they should make it this far only for their dear Reverend to lose his life alone.

Where had they been? Where had they been?

One of Evelyn's fire-eaten ears twitched as her anger flared, its heat simmering dangerously as her mind went round and round and round...

And then came to an abrupt stop at the low, hateful wolfsong that rent the air. The Vicar's narrow body went rigid and her breath caught within her chest. An instant later, the horrible cries that followed rose her up in what seemed to be the precise moment that Santiago's big hands wrapped her up in his arms and tugged her out of their tent.

Chaos followed and all Evelyn was aware of for what felt like an eternity was the thundering of hooves, the smell of fear, and Santiago's warm, protective, heavy body atop her.

She breathed only after the last rumbles of the thundering stampede faded and wiggled beneath her companion's weight, attempting to disengage herself from his protection. "You tryin' to shield me or you tryin' to smother me?" she grumbled, managing to catch sight of the last of the horses as they tore away into the surrounding forest before she freed herself from Santiago's self-made armor.

Breathing out, Evelyn looked her friend over with a brief glimpse of worry evident on her scarred face.

OOC: oh mannn you set this up perfectly for me <3

[WC — 348]


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Mate to Santiago Little Bandit They stole my dirty socks... :( Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Thu May 23, 2019 8:40 pm

She'd been dozing lightly, unable to find truly restful sleep since the night of the warning. The red woman was vaguely aware of the camp's noises around her as she irritatedly tossed and turned inside her tent and sighed softly to herself golden eyes flicking open to follow the faint shadows of the swaying tree branches playing across the canvas in the moonlight. The night was still and calm, and yet Zsorthia found her nerves on edge. Ever since she'd joined the Posse nothing seemed to go right for her. The cougar attack had been the first straw, the Reverend being beheaded was the second, third had been breaking her small hunting knife off in the stump of an old tree.

Suffice to say, the coydog had quite a lot of built up tension. Her shoulder throbbed as if to remind her of the wound that healed there. She couldn't lay on that side right now so it wasn't like she could easily forget. Just as she was considering actually rising from her bed and maybe taking a small walk around the edge of camp to burn off some of her nerves, quite suddenly an unfamiliar voice rang out into the night, followed by the whinnies, nickers and thundering of hooves taking off. The woman's eyes widened as the sounds grew louder, and she knew she only had moments to react. Jumping up and grabbing for one of her blades, the woman tumbled through the side of the tent fabric, the unsheathed knife tearing a ragged exit just in the nick of time and the tent collapsing as the horses came careening by at high speed. She recognized one or two as she hit the ground hard, the wind briefly being knocked from her chest as she crawled out of the path of several more startled horses, headed for the treeline. Glaring in the direction of where the voice had come from she snarled as she regained her footing and snatched up her dropped second blade from the now trampled mess that had once been her tent. She was lucky that she'd escaped a kick to the head.

Not too far away she could see movement on the ground where another tent had once stood. If she recalled right, it had belonged to Santiago and the woman whom was closest to the most recently deceased reverend. At that moment she couldn't recall the other female's name. Scrambling over to the two bodies disentangling themselves upon the ground, Zsorthia hissed grimly "Now's no time to be lyin' down and mackin' you two, we got trouble. Wolves!" She growled deeply and began to try and haul the two's shoulders to make them move faster then held out a paw. If they stayed where they were they'd be spotted or trampled. "We gotta get after these sons of bitches before they get too far away! Are you hurt?" She addressed Santiago in particular who looked like hell after playing shield for the lady beneath him.
Zsorthia



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POSTED: Sat May 25, 2019 2:11 am

And the stars will be your eyes, And the wind will be my hands

He could hardly hear anything through the rushing blood in his somewhat shredded ears, mistaken partly for the dwindling beats of horses fleeing into the night. Adrenaline kept his body rigid, pupils blown and swimming in the thin haloes of his irises. It was, perhaps, the stress, more so than the dark of the night. Belatedly, his arms released Evelyn from his grasp, and he pushed, slow, up onto his palms, putting knees into the earth beneath him to try and right himself.

He was shaking - could swear he tasted the dirt and the copper all over again and hear the jeers of horsemen.

"Sorry, Miss Escuella," Santiago breathed out on a weak note, before one of the newer Posse members darted up. His ruined lips curled, slow, but he did not lift his eyes from the ground for a moment more.

"They're tryin' to cut off our means of escape - someone else can chase the bastards," he rumbled, stern, moving to stand and helping Evelyn to her feet. His broken teeth caught the shafts of moonbeams through the trees, ugly and jutting against the dark scores of whipping scars past his lips. "We gotta get them back, before someone else makes off with 'em, c'mon now." Smoothing Evelyn's shawl, and gently sweeping the dust from her clothes, he rolled and adjusted his own shoulders, before bolting off after the scattered horses.

>:0 MAH HORSIES | [wc — --] template by hilli, image from Wayne Stadler
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POSTED: Mon May 27, 2019 6:04 am

They had scarcely a beat to recover before the pounding of pawsteps – lighter and softer than the thundering hoofbeats but, with their near-miss still fresh in her mind, alarming in its own way &ndsah; neared them. With Santiago already easing up and away from her, Evelyn shot the newest Posse member a withering look in response to the woman's hiss. "You don't say," she grumbled sarcastically, brushing away Zsorthia's attempts to haul them up in favor of Santiago's help.

Once on her feet again, the Vicar ran her hands over her cloak to brush off the dirt and wrinkled her nose. "Chasin' them would be about as useful as barkin’ at a knot," she countered, turning to glare in the direction the horses had fled."I reckon Santiago's right; we need to get us back our horses." With her shawl smoothed and dust motes catching dimly in the moonlight around her, Evelyn glanced at Zsorthia once more before she loped off after her friend and their horses.

In the midst of the chaos, she had not had the foresight to count or pick out the individuals they would be searching for, but she thought it was likely their horses – Dutch and Blackjack, Vegas and Bruni – were all out there in the dark with the rest. The thought of them, any of them, being caught and taken by the wolves left the Vicar's mouth dry and her chest tight. "We ain't turnin' back 'til we got 'em," she panted to her companions, her eyes fixed on the darkness ahead but seeing very little aside from Santiago's lead.

[WC — 275]


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Mate to Santiago Little Bandit They stole my dirty socks... :( Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Mon May 27, 2019 4:38 pm

Zsorthia snorted softly through her nose, hackles bristling ever so slightly at the scorn she received in response of her attempt at humor. Santiago was a rough edged guy and rubbed the red woman the wrong way, but he was one of the more respected members of the Posse and she didn't dare start shit with him despite the coil of anger that sparked briefly in her stomach. There was a more important matter at hand. The lady however at least responded with some sarcasm and made Zsorthia almost smirk.

Her offer to help them up was declined and instead she folded her arms and frowed as they took a careful moment to dust themselves off. "Pfft, fine, don't take my help." She thought with a slight roll of her eyes. "I reckon Santiago's right; we need to get us back our horses." The Mercedes woman grit her teeth. "That's part of the fuckin' plan, yeah." She muttered likely out of ear shot before taking off after the other two drawing her baldes just in case they should run into further trouble from the wolves she knew were out there lurking.

Catching up to her companions, she breathed to Evelyn. "If I can get to my horse, I might be of some good use here..." She paused and looked forward to Santiago who was in the lead of them. "I'm fluent in equine low speech. My horse is commanded in it and I can try to soothe the herd and bring 'em home with his help." The coydog then fell silent to let the two leaders of the mission decide what they wanted to do. Her gut twisted in anticipation and adrenaline rushed through her veins making the red woman feel ready for anything.
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POSTED: Sun Jun 09, 2019 1:07 pm

And the stars will be your eyes, And the wind will be my hands

The red woman was a little bit harder for him to read, to gauge, fiery and snappy as she was.

Evelyn was much more a comfort, somehow a familiar tale - he had known what to expect, known her reaction before she'd even spoken, but Zsorthia? Zsorthia was enigmatic, in the simplest sense.

"Well then what're we waiting for?" Santiago barked, perhaps a little brash in his response, while he stooped to the ripped remains of his tent, gathering up a rope from the carnage of canvas. "C'mon, horse-whisperer."

He gestured for the duo of women to follow him while he chased off after the hoof prints, splitting each way out into the dark trees, when he felt his heart leap into his chest, and his pace slowed a moment with dawning realization.

"Keep close - we don't know what's waiting." More wolves? Ambush? He swallowed thickly, and blindly reached behind him for Evelyn's arm, needing to give it a squeeze of reassurance. He couldn't let her fall to the same fate as Calhoun, wouldn't hear anything of it, and suddenly his self-assured direction was seized by the fear of indecision.

"Miss Mercedes, can you smell your equine friend?"

-- | [wc — --] template by hilli, image from Wayne Stadler
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POSTED: Wed Jul 03, 2019 7:56 pm

She did not catch the red woman's rolling eyes – not with her dead eye and, therefore, her limited range of vision – but the sound of a indecipherable mutter drew her attention to Zsorthia. Precisely what the content of the woman's vocalization was, however, Evelyn did not catch. But still she held her gaze: long, measured, emotionless. Don't try me, her eyes seemed to say before, with an abrupt shake, she took off after her friend.

There were few times she was in any mood to be tested, but now was a particularly poor time.

It was not long before the newest of their posse had caught up with them. The Vicar swiveled one tattered ear to funnel in Zsorthia's words and, though it did little, shifted her eyes toward her. "How's that?" she asked neutrally. Because even if she managed to get atop her own steed, it would still do little to reel in the rest of the herd. Perhaps, though, it would at least soothe them to know that there was some sense of control among them. But if that was what the red woman was suggesting... well, that was hardly anything of particular use.

Instead, the woman revealed her skill in equine low speech and, though she would be disinclined to admit as much, Evelyn found herself impressed. In the only language of appreciation she seemed to know, the Vicar dipped her nose to the woman.

"What is it?" she murmured when she noticed Santiago slow his pace. His response was sensible and, without a word, the fire-kissed coyote slowed. In front of her, aimless and innocent as a child, his arm reached out and Evelyn glared at it. What was he doing? Now what not the time. "We'll be fine," she hissed, brushing his hand away with her own bandaged fingers. Not now.

Swiveling her ear to Zsorthia's direction again, Evelyn listened for a response from the red woman.

[WC — 330]


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