[M] Creativity is an Instrument of Immortality

Evelyn

POSTED: Sun Feb 17, 2019 3:50 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.


SLAP!

The stomach wrenching cry of an equine in terror echoed in a shrill key beneath the canopy.

"NO-URGHK!"

Wayne's voice was cut short as the rope lost it's slack. Cochise darted out from beneath him, the leather chaps of the coydog's legs flung forward, his last grip on the only thing holding him up from certain death lunged away in a horrified sprint. A dark tunnel crept in from the corners of his eyes, red bursting like fireworks at the ends of blood vessels turning that alabaster white into a pool of red. Wrenching coughs punched through his diaphragm, but he couldn't see him. He couldn't make out the devil that left him for dead. His last thought?

Were there even buzzards in this frigid wasteland?

---

A gruello blur tore through the white, the spray of ice and snow behind him swirling in his wake. Nostrils took heaping gulps of air as wide, frightened eyes searched for anything of what he was familiar with. The beast could smell the camp, and in it, someone he distinctly remembered. A scarred woman, bandaged and blind in a single eye. He knew she was close. Ripping through the camp, the horse paid no mind to what he ran through, nor did he give patient, careful steps around the fires. It didn't take long to find where Evelyn was stationed, and nearby, another familiar smell. The coyman who reeked of drink at the bar was present here as well, but the beast couldn't find either of them in his fright.

Rearing up, the stallion screamed, stomped and threw a fit. He spun and kicked, sinking his hooves into anything that was near until his lungs begged for some stillness in him. Fearful eyes moved around as he sunk his head into a nearby tent, seeking out someone, anyone to save him from this awful thing. The stinging in his rump had long since subsided, but this fear, he couldn't be free from. A snort and a stomp came from the intrusive beast, the only trick he ever knew being put to the very test.

360
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Dark
Luperci Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Sun Feb 17, 2019 1:27 pm

The pale glow of a dying fire clutched weakly at her cloak and her face. It warmed her still, despite its failing life, though she could feel the biting teeth of winter nipping at her shoulders and her back. Bowing further into herself, her arms hugging her small frame beneath the folds of clothing she wore to keep from succumbing to unending threat of hypothermia, Evelyn blew out a cloud of breath and glowered into the fire.

They had been in this godforsaken wasteland for a small handful of moons now, by her calculation, and somehow, against all the odds, their hearts still beat. A sliver of something within her dared to suggest that she relax a little, but The Vicar knew better than to hope for a storybook ending. Periods of peace and quiet had come into her life before, only to be washed away again by the waves of violence and persecution. This tranquility was only temporary. Whether it took mere days or several long years, eventually there would be fire and fear and frenzy again.

As though summoned from the depths of her thoughts, discord erupted within the camp. Sharply, the coyote snapped her head around to the sound of hooves trampling frozen earth and instinctively rose, rigid and tense, from where she had been warming herself against the dying fire. In the fraction of seconds that followed, while her instincts weighed whether to fight or to flee, Evelyn watched the horse – a familiar beast she had never seen without its rider – streak by in a blur. She remained where she was for a long time, her ruined face turned in the direction that the beast had come, and waited for the danger to present itself.

It confused her when nothing followed except the screams and the stomping from the horse further in camp. Yelling at whoever was nearest to keep watch, Evelyn followed the path of disaster that Cochise left in his wake until she found the horse. "Woah!" she crooned, lifting her bandaged hands up to the horse in an attempt to soothe him. "Woah, now." She smelled the horse's fear, and also the familiar sting of liquor.

[WC — 364]


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Mandi
Little Bandit They stole my dirty socks... :( Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Fri Apr 19, 2019 2:54 pm

(000)

Hello yes, I am terrible and late AF

It was a mix up as to which place he crashed at. The two groups were so close, that it was mainly a question of where he passed out. John dreamed his drunken dreams and unconsciously dreaded the coming of consciousness.

The scream of a terrified horse woke him from a dead slumber.

Remembering things best forgotten, Johnathan bolted upright, hand already reaching for his knife. The tent above his head billowed in a breeze unseen, and suddenly there was a horse head shoving its way inside. John jerked backwards, startled, before squeezing himself out of the tent and coming straight up against The Vicar.

"S'Wayne's hoss." His addled brain provided. The horse was saying something. Growing up on a farm, John would have been hard pressed to not learn some of the way they spoke to each other.

He was not the best at it though, some of the intent falling upon his uncomprehending misunderstanding.

"Sumthin's wrong." The remaining threads of sleep and alcohol thickened his accent and filled it with gravel. He shook his head, and rubbed at his gritty eyes.

"He's sayin'..." Fear was the predominant thing, and it was all Cochise could focus on. Fear and pain and, a rope?

"Sumthin's.. Wayne's in some kinda trouble." There was a terrible twisting in his stomach, he'd seen enough bodies hanging by their necks.

Without much thought, John was hauling himself up onto the frightened horse's back. Green looking down at the scarred woman, he barked,

"Are ya comin'?" The horse would take him there, he was sure of it.

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

POSTED: Fri Apr 19, 2019 8:47 pm

Of course, said the voice in her head after she recognized the scent through the liquor at the precise moment the man himself erupted from the tent and damned-near crashed into her. Evelyn took an instinctive step back when John burst through his sanctuary, the bridge of her nose rippling slightly while her single living eye burned brightly – uncertainly – into his startled face.

Evelyn considered his response with a weighted stare. "I done reckon it is," she replied with a slight nod, realizing with mild surprise that she had hoped she was wrong when she recognized the horse and who he belonged to. Why couldn't this have been a case of mistaken identity on her behalf?

Because she had never been, and would never be, so lucky.

The Vicar snorted sharply and glanced off in the direction Cochise had come. "That so?" she replied with feigned innocence, her sharp gaze – now against John's ruddy face – boring into the man's emerald eyes. Whether or not he picked up on her scrutiny, Evelyn cared little. Her focus, primarily, was on the horse.

But the horse, it seemed (or it seemed according to John), was focused on Wayne. Evelyn watched (with some admiration) as the drunkard heaved himself onto the back of the alarmed horse and glanced down at her with those perfect green eyes. She stared obstinately back. "I am," she replied after a pause, tugging her shawl over her shoulders more tightly with one fist. "Lead th' way."

OOC: Since Wayne is slowly suffocating in midair, I was given permission to skip him and reply again. :D

[WC — 251]


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Mandi
Little Bandit They stole my dirty socks... :( Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Mon May 13, 2019 11:34 pm

(000)

Hello yes, I am terrible and late AF AGAIN - I'm leaving off right here cause I don't want to power play others too much!

Blearily he blinked, the sudden pounding in the back of his head coming fore to real life. Throbbing in time with his incessant heartbeat. This was what he got for mixing his drinks, not that it ever stopped him. Her scrutiny washed over him, and fell from him like raindrops. Women looked at him with either veiled disgust or barely-concealed lust, depending on how wretched he looked. Considering how he felt, he assumed it was the former and hardly bothered to check. Judgement rained upon him.

"Mhmm.." He replied, preoccupied with try to get his foot in the darn stirrups. Fucking feet.

She didn't appear to want to get on the horse with him, and quite honestly he didn't blame her. He probably reeked of old booze and stale smoke.

Back through the destruction caused by the run away horse, and out along the dusty trail. He didn't speak, and nursed his throbbing headache in one hand, rubbing fingers deep against his closed eyes. He was just a drunken rogue, he had no place anywhere really.

At quite a fast clip Cochise led them further away from the camps, John keeping an eye on the woman to make sure she wasn't being left behind.

"Oh fuck." A shape coalesced from the fog, that of a jerking man grasping on for dear life. John dug his heels into the horse's side and urged him faster, now not noticing if Evelyn fell behind.

Wayne dangled from his rope necklace, clawing at the rope and kicking uselessly.

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

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