[m] have I ever told you 'bout the time I -

POSTED: Fri Apr 26, 2019 9:59 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

The liquor smelled strong - too strong, for his standards, and while this liquid wasn't clear, Calhoun assured him that it was good.

Gold like honey. Gold like his brother-in-arm's face.

"Best not let the Vicar hear you say that," Santiago warned, wafting the neck of the bottle under his nose, washed-out green eyes on Calhoun while he tested the hair-curling smell.

"She don't gotta know." Calhoun was playing a dangerous game, rivaling his sister's moonshine with rye whiskey. "You're just sayin' that so she doesn't physically emasculate you later, compadre."

"Your point? Drink some already."

Santiago hissed, soft, between his teeth and felt the preemptive pinches in the edges of his eyes before he head even brought the alcohol to his lips - it tasted raw, rough, and almost medicinal while it crawled its way down his throat. Not bad, necessarily. Good, in fact - but Santiago could never dare to say such for fear that one fire-kissed Evelyn Escuella was hiding around somewhere, waiting to crack down on the duo for their transgressions. Calhoun smiled, thin, conspiratorially, before he corked the bottle again, and gestured for Santiago to follow him to the fire - though the marred, silvery coyote felt fear that he would overheat, how quickly the drink bled through his guts and seeped its way clear to his fingertips.

forward dated to April 29th | [wc — --] template by hilli, image from Wayne Stadler
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POSTED: Sat Apr 27, 2019 12:12 pm

the first cut is the deepest

She had procured some wine, some terrible wine, and only half a bottle, but it did the trick. Already buzzed off the acidic grape juice liquor, Twelve walked with a purpose and swagger afforded to her by the drink. A jagged, unpleasant smile, but a smile nonetheless, graced her features.

There was a fire going in the Drygrass camp this evening, and she was feeling especially social. Two men had recently walked up, and she was quick to join them, Evening gentlemen. What ya fuckers up to tonight? She said through yellow teeth.

Twelve had seen these boys around but hadn’t caught their names yet; she was keeping to herself mostly in the Posse, had procured a tent, was keeping her head down. She still couldn’t quite believe they let her hang around so far; she hadn’t done much… actually hadn’t done anything, to contribute.

Catching a look glance the darker man’s face between the flames, her eyes widened, Good God your face is more fucked up than my ass. Hat looks good though.

Sticking a curved claw into her ear to scratch an itch, she turned her head to the side to spit, and then belched loudly. Then, spotting the bottle, she gave the golden one an eye, What ya got there friend? She could have had a forked tongue the way she asked it.

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POSTED: Sun Apr 28, 2019 12:30 pm

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

It was the new woman.

Somehow, it seemed deeply inappropriate to call her a girl - Unnamed, and with a hide striped with history and a crassness to bully the best of them, Santiago hadn't yet figured out what to make of their new recruit, but he smiled his gap-filled smile to her regardless as she sat down with effort that betrayed something of inebriation. Then again, Santiago and Calhoun were no strangers to rough individuals, to crassness - when the Posse had been stronger, further south - all manner walked among them. No matter the origin, they had all found family with one another.

"Evenin', miss," Santiago answered, and Calhoun offered a characteristic nod of acknowledgement and a hum, before bringing his whiskey to his lips. The golden man nearly snorted the honey liquid back out his nose the moment she commented on Santiago's features, and coughed out a peal of laughter. Santiago threw a punch out against that shoulder.

"Don't let --" Calhoun had to pause to try and clear his throat, the liquid causing it to wobble, before he coughed again, and laughed harder for a moment, the sound a dry and wheezing thing. "-- Don't let the face fool ya, miss. Santiago here - Santiago's got a butter-face now, but at least his hair is nice. Or would be, iffin' he didn't have the hat."

"I didn't know I came here for a roast," Santiago offered, back, his eyes pinched, but smile persistent, before he dug his elbow into Calhoun's side. "Give 'er the bottle, compadre, we share 'round here." Calhoun forked it over on offer.

"Easy with it now, though, don't have the biggest supply yet - I got a thread with a trader who gave me some rye."

"Whiskey, now we got 'shine, and whiskey!"

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POSTED: Sun Apr 28, 2019 4:37 pm

the first cut is the deepest

Her statement on the darker man’s appearance made his friend nearly choke on the drink. She liked them already; folk who could take a joke without offense. Those type were typically hard working; no point in getting up in arms over some words when the next day you could go out into the field and die of a spider or snake bite, or blister under the unforgiving sun. Twelve shuddered slightly.

The golden faced boy let slip the scarred man’s name, Santiago, and when the bottle was given to her she tipped its neck in his direction as a salute, Here’s to you Mr. Butter-face; may your crooked smile always bring the best pussy into your bed. She took a swig, not caring too much if it was a small supply or not.

The whiskey was strong, very strong; perhaps some of the meanest, roughest, youngest whiskeys she’d ever have. It had an instant effect on her throat, which seemed to close off slightly; it hit the piss-wine in her stomach like a rock.

Twelve sputtered, Holy shit, that’s some good poison. She handed the bottle back to he who had offered it to her, You the one who made it? Real nice job, maybe next time I have a nip it’ll be that that finally does me in. She grinned.

The mention of shine piqued her interest, I’ve heard there was shine ‘round here. I think I may have even spied the still; y’all like the Cartel? Running booze and drugs throughout this pristine wilderness? Twelve was still trying to figure out this whole getup; she hadn’t been able to put her finger on exactly what was going on here.

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POSTED: Sat May 11, 2019 7:27 pm

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

Calhoun's grin was broad, perhaps a touch sharp with his tempered pride at the compliment the ratty coyote woman offered to him. His laugh was throaty, rough -

"Gotta make somethin' good t' compete with Evelyn's work," he merely lamented after a moment. Santiago nodded a bit, and at the mention of the Cartel, he chuckled quietly.

"Now, don't know anythin' about drugs, but who do you think's been givin' them the booze to sell?" Santiago muttered conspiratorially. "Someone's gotta bring the good times, right? May as well be us turnin' a profit, we could use some good comin' our way." He stretched out his toes a little, before finally getting up to go fetch a spare bottle of shine, the trio passing it about and sharing light conversation (albeit vaguely crass, the more alcohol they imbibed), until the silvery, rough-faced coyote got up, staggering mildly on his toes to excuse himself.

"Oof, a'ight," he slurred softly. "Gotta go take a leak, I'll be back," Santiago uttered. A small set of paces outside of camp, he relieved himself and shook out, before he paused, narrowing his swimming vision while readjusting clothing.

"Hey, fellas," he called back towards camp. "You seein' this?"

He pointed, feeling the earth shifting under the weight of his feet, towards a pale shape in the trees - a horse, browsing through some low growth.

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POSTED: Sat May 11, 2019 7:41 pm

the first cut is the deepest

Santiago dismissed her prod on the drugs; interesting. She figured with a name of The Cartel they’d be slinging some shit. But it appeared it was a moniker only with no true substance behind it. Fair enough, she supposed, she recalled a few of the gangs in New York chose names that often had no backing; the Bloods, the Yankees, the Day Trippers (though they did have pretty good mushrooms from time to time).

The conversation with these two boys was pleasant, and she liked that Calhoun was so open with his drink. They basically finished off his precious whiskey, and all were feeling mighty fine by the time it got down to the dregs. Santiago excused himself to piss, and Twelve took the moment to lean back against a tree and make eyes at Calhoun. There were a bunch of fine looking men here, and they became finer the more she drank.

Then softly, from the trees, Butterface McGhee called them over. She headed over as softly as a drunk woman could to join him, the area still stinking of his piss, but that didn’t matter in the scheme of things. There, in front of them, was a lovely looking little mare; a bit flea-bitten, but sturdy as far as she could tell in the dark of early night.

Twelve cast her eyes to the side to look at Santiago, One of yours? She asked, but obviously it wasn’t, unless he was drunker than she had assumed and was just having a dreamy look at his own horse.

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POSTED: Sun Jun 09, 2019 12:51 pm

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

His eyes narrowed, and one of those tattered ears twisted back to listen to the approach of Twelve and Calhoun, each a little wobbly and full of fumbling steps.

At the question, he cast an incredulous look back to the gray coyote woman, and scoffed.

"Pfff, yeah, amiga, jus' want you to --" He paused, stifling a burp behind a knuckle. "Y'know. Be aware. No, of course it's not."

His smile was good natured, and he threw a slow punch into her shoulder. Calhoun narrowed his dandelion eyes, perplexed, before making his way closer to the gray, flecked mare, who's ears perked up on her head as she saw the coyotes' approach, Santiago following behind as though he were tugged along by a string. Calhoun started clicking his tongue, making tiny kissy noises.

"Thassa good girl," he crooned, and she whickered low and soft, craning her head forward to sniff. "Now where didja come from?"

Santiago scratched his nose, confused by the smells, but truthfully couldn't pin anything down, with the way his head swam and he could only smell the fire of the whiskey past his own breath. The horse flinched when he tripped a little too close to her, and stepped a few steps away from the trio.

"Miss--- You don't got a last name," he answered, belated, and his pallid green eyes narrowed while he tried to pull through the bog of his thought processes. "Anyway - you're good with horses, right? Do your whisperin'."

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POSTED: Wed Jun 12, 2019 9:04 pm

the first cut is the deepest

She giggled in an ugly sort of way at his sarcastic retort; Santiago was alright in her book… for now.

Calhoun decided to risk his tail before the two of them and went striding out to the horse, kissing at it like it was a lover. It worked, the horse didn’t shy away but actually went to meet his outstretched hand. Tame thing, it definitely belonged to someone. Had she not been so drunk she might have been suspicious. Why would a horse, one these boys didn’t recognize, suddenly show up in their camp?

Her eyes swam back to Butterface as he mentioned she didn’t have a last name, Yeah? Well that just means I get to make my own, or find it, out here in the sticks. She said with a grin, and then returned his punch which she just realized he had thrown. It was like a limp-dick slap against his shoulder.

Ya could say that. She said, then burped into the back of her hand, I’ll whisper it good.

Twelve moved forward, somehow managing not to fall flat on her face. The horse had been spooked somewhat by Santiago’s fumbling, but she moved smoothly enough not to bother it more. She kept her eyes slightly averted, and lifted a hand for it to sniff. Curious, the mare came forward and touched its flee bitten muzzle against the coyote’s palm, That’s a good girl. Twelve said, and then slowly reached up to scratch the horse on the forehead. The mare immediately relaxed, and the gray coyote woman turned back to grin at Santiago, I think you could get on her for a good ride, Butterface. She said, not ashamed of the dirty play on words.

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