[M] No matter what I say or do


POSTED: Sat Jan 12, 2019 3:42 am

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.



The nightmares re-surged with a viciousness as they settled into Searsport. They claimed for themselves the portions of old carriages. They made a tentative claim, and when none came to oust or argue it, their influence was decided. The skulls of old Inferni were set up atop new poles, ready to strike fear into hearts again.

During all of this, John fought more and more against the pull of sleep. When he slept, he saw her face far too much.

It made him sick, and filled him with a terrible yearning. When the things had seemed bright, and happy. Before Andrew had left, before Ginger had revealed her real self.

So he dealt with the pain in the tried and true method of being absolutely shit-faced as much as he could manage. If he passed out then he tended not to dream too much. Sometimes though, she still snuck her way in there, and it was from one of these such dreams that he wrenched himself to wakefulness, sitting bolt upright in his bedroll to clasp his head in hands.

His harsh, ragged breathing was the only sound in the tent and yet he knew she was awake too. Her breathing was not even enough to be sleeping. He opened his mouth, but his tongue was dry and sticking. Fuck, he needed a drink.

The thought of her sad, aching frown stayed his hand. Fuck. So many bitter regrets welled up inside, churning together in some terrible smoothie of fucked-up mess. Abruptly his eyes burned, and only force of will kept the tears inside. He... he needed to leave. Right now.

Abruptly John dragged himself to his feet and ducked out of the tent, striding away into the surrounding early morning gloom.


It was later in the morning, as he sat by the fire that he caught her copper locks and called softly to her,

"Larka... c'mere." He gestured gently. John was never loud or short with her, displaying a tenderness that was so long removed from his persona that it was uncharacteristic now. There was a long length of rope curled between his outstretched legs. The cigarette jammed between his teeth was tobacco only, he'd stopped smoking pot around her as it made her uneasy and scared.

As she approached him, he stubbed it out against the ground and tucked it behind his ear,

"You wantin' to learn about snares, yeah?" Green peered up at her, tired and strained.

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

POSTED: Tue Jan 22, 2019 4:02 pm

OOC: Sorry for the short post - let me know if anything needs changing.

John wasn’t sleeping - neither was she. His harried breathing carried the scent of alcohol to tease Larka’s whiskers. He had been drinking again. She tensed in her blankets, wishing she could turn over and feign sleep. The girl held her breath as she watched him, shielding his head from an unseen horror.

Instinctively she wanted to offer him comfort. To push into his space and fill it with her body flush against his, as she would a client if they asked her of it. To do so with John felt different however, a betrayal of the trust between them.

A long, whistling breath left her lips when John rustled free of the tent. Larka gazed upward at the tent’s innards, her thoughts whirling like a snow storm as she considered what to do.

Larka spent the morning in work that isolated her from the copper male. There was much to be done around camp, but she paused by the skull-lined posts with curiosity. Roughly equal in size to each other and potentially canine. Coloured patterns played across their surface, each unique from the other. They hinted at something older, and darker in the group’s existence that she wasn’t comfortable delving into.

Ears perked at the gentle masculine voice that called her to him. “John?” The girl drifted to his side as she took in the rope between his legs, her gaze attentive. A layer of smoky tobacco coated him now, causing her muzzle to wrinkle at its pungency.

Larka rubbed the moisture from her stinging eyes as John turned his on her, questioning. “I am sorry... That smoke always makes my eyes water. Yes, I would like to learn.”
Avatar by the lovely Despi! <3

Del Cenere Gang
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Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Wed Feb 13, 2019 11:38 pm

Word Count → 244 :: Sorry this took so long guys!

"That's 'cause it smells so bad!" Rozenn's lighthearted taunt was thrown across the fire as she approached. A dead bird hung from its feet in her hand, swinging perpendicular to the swaying of her curvaceous hips. She stuck out her tongue at John and winked at him before tossing the bird at his feet. "Don't say I never did nothing for you lot."

In fact, she hadn't done anything. Rather than hunt on her own, she'd picked this up from some other sod's trap - probably one of their own. But they never had to know did they? They just had to think she was pulling her own weight. Usually, she could steal her own weight with Noel, but he wasn't exactly around to help out anymore. It was hard to steal and dance at the same time.

Taking a wide berth around the flames, she plopped down beside the red haired girl and smiled charmingly. "I don't believe we've met? My name is Rozenn, but you can call me Roz if it's easier." She grinned cheekishly at John. "What's a pretty girl like you doing with this old badger anyway? Snares are boring."

Just as she had managed to escape duties with her mother, so she would here amongst the Cartel. What was the point in surrounding oneself with people if they weren't of any use. She provided the entertainment and lighthearted fun, and they provided the food. It was a fair trade right?

Gave away her soul to buy a bit of pleasure, the bitter pleasure

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