Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Jan 3, 2018 1:48:17 GMT -5
“We are rough men and used to rough ways.” "Sweet shot of kerosene When I threw it back, it poisoned me Well I gave you all I got to give I know that ain't no way to live So I told that devil to take you back I told that devil to take you back."
cursed. broken. frozen.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Mountain ranges beyond compare, waving tower of grass, spiked cacti, and a few singular homes that have stood the test of time. A ghostly town that to the rest of America, doesn't exist. Time moves strangely in this range of town, a fact that the residents just accept. The clouds drift, the saloon doors swing aimlessly, and the curse remains unbroken for another hundred years. Sure, you can think it's 2017 while in the Copperhead, but that doesn't mean it's true. Within a span of acres and acres, where the two rivers connect and split northwards and then trickle into streams, that's the boundary line. Crooked and wavy due to the rivers, and then abruptly going straight across the west bound railroad, this triangle of land has kept it's inhabitants within their own personal western hell for the last hundred years.
To step outside that boundary means hellish death for some, for some it means the unknown and abandoned railways. Only creatures of this earth and hell await any other human. Why does this curse exist? Who knows. Someone probably shot someone's daughter's boyfriend in the barn and a jealous witch cursed them. Who gives a, ah, heck, at this point? It keeps the demons within it, the humans don't have any clue of the outside world, and the government keeps it off grid.
Copperhead is better off staying frozen in 1800.
xxx
So, everyone has been trapped in Copperhead for so long, they all forgot the outside world kind of existed. None of them can step outside of the triangle, anyway. The humans live in Copperhead, and on the plains where they raise their cows and such. The witches live in the Pine Heart near the two rivers; the Rattler and the Python. The demons live deeper in the plains and mountains, hiding as the cursed ones, shunned from humanity, but every so often they'd come down to town and freak out the locals. The locals know there is nothing they can do about the cursed population, but the cursed feel they shouldn't be punished anymore. There are two factions that have divided the cursed demons. One side believes they should just take control of Copperhead and make the humans there slaves and toys to play with. The other side believes they shouldn't lose their humanity so soon, and perhaps try to coexist in harmony with the humans. With the tension brewing, the old rules are starting to crumble. A civil war might be coming and everyone better brush up on their shooting skills when it does come. The side that wishes to enslave humans is called The Slavers and the ones who wish to live peacefully and join the humans are called The Peacemakers.
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Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Jan 3, 2018 1:48:46 GMT -5
“We are rough men and used to rough ways.”
Layout of Copperhead While Copperhead isn't quite a normal town, it follows a normal hierarchy structure. One yah better learn quick, or you'll be shot.
HUMANITY -- humans; red blooded and not quite ignorant to the town's other unsavory characters. The humans are pretty much led by three families and while they are technically the wealthiest, the families know where they fall. The Allison family have owned the library, saloon, and almost every business in town since it opened. The Graves family have been the town's leadership, mayors, and government since anyone can remember, and no one can remember why they shouldn't be. Lastly, the Campbell family has kept the ranches running and they own the most amount of land outside of Copperhead's main town. Any other family is most likely related in one way or another to the three families, but no one really cares anymore. The humans are the same passionate, silly creatures they've always been.
WICCA -- witches; salt intolerant and has a little lingering amount of power from the old days. The witches are few and far between, and their help usually comes with a steep price. The witches have been alive so long, their magic is waning. Not enough to break the curse, but they often do mischief. The Eros witches has been screwing with the inhabitants of the town by ways of Shakespearean style love spells, just to pass the time and amuse themselves. The Steele witches has been living with their trains and rails for so long, they're practically metal themselves. And every once in a while, they help move the trains. The rivers give the witches their magic, and keep them from completely withering away. While the witches age slowly, their magic fades over time. The river is the only thing keeping them magical anymore.
DEMONS -- demons; immortal, unlovable, monstrosities. Kinda. You see, about 130 years ago, a gunslinger, outlaw, gang swept into town and murdered a bunch of people. Standard stuff, except the town was protected by a pact that the humans had made with the witches of the era. So, that gang was cursed, or something like that. Now, all of the members of that original gang must live eternally in the arid climate, and let's just say they weren't just cursed to live forever. Many of them have become twisted versions of their evils selves, the curse taking it's toll and wreaking havoc on their humanity. Hating humans is the least of their problems, when they have to worry about stepping out of the boundary, keeping their demonic eyes hidden, and trying to keep their sanity. If they want it at all. The cursed can't hurt the humans or else they'll lose their grip on reality and on their sanity, and would be impossible to stop.
and of course there are rules for the humans... are they even true? - Never make a deal with a witch, or else you danger your well being and stability [probably true] - Never fall for a demon. Never believe a demon's silvertongue. [false, depends on the demon though] - Keep your copper talismans are your neck at all times. Demons can't handle copper. [100% true] - Stay inside after dark, or else you'll meet a demon and be swayed for evil. [false] - Stay away from the river, or a witch will curse you [false, unless you piss them off] - The rivers keep the witches powerful, so never bathe in the Rattler or Python [true, but bathing would be fine] - Demons shouldn't hurt humans or else they'll begin to lose their grip on reality [true, the cursed shouldn't hurt humans. doesn't mean they won't] - You go out of the border and no one will come find you. Choose wisely if you wish to leave. [true.]
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Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Jan 3, 2018 1:49:08 GMT -5
“We are rough men and used to rough ways.”
The Copperhead Residents just the general landscape of characters to work with. not every single slot needs to be filled. although there are some suggested roles. feel free to go outside of them.
DEMONS -- 13 unlucky outlaws who have been cursed by the wicca of the town. separated into two [ish] categories, although allegiances are more complex than that.
Jackson S. Clark / Jack of Knives / slavers
Augustus Tully Westmore / slavers Estella Marie Lloyd / slavers
Amos Christianson / slavers name / nickname / neutral name / nickname / neutral name / nickname / neutral name / nickname / neutral
Dr. Francis Henry Holliday / Doc / peacemakers name / nickname / peacemakers name / nickname / peacemakers name / nickname / peacemakers name / nickname / peacemakers
WICCA -- the two family lines who have kept strong because of the rivers. the mischievous eros witches mostly stick their noses into affairs that are not their own and the steele witches have a habit of consuming minerals to keep their powers rich.
EROS WITCHES - the matriarch is the grandmother of her three daughters, although they all look like redheaded sisters.
The Matriarch / Isa / known as Isabelle Amora The Defiant / Aelle / eldest granddaughter
The Wildflower / name / known as [ normal name ] / middle granddaughter
The Favorite / name / known as [ normal name ] / youngest granddaughter
STEELE WITCHES - railroad obsessed, metal eaters. four siblings The Protector / name / eldest brother The Hunter / name / second eldest brother
The Jewel / name / only sister The Sparrow / name / youngest brother HUMANS -- three main families have run Copperhead since it was cursed. there are humans outside of these family lines and they usually have a homestead that has been in their family for decades.
THE ALLISON FAMILY- the owners
Papa / Big 'Al' Allison / owner Mama / June Allison / wife and homemaker
The Sharpshooter / name / eldest daughter
The Sweetrose / Jennifer Allison / youngest daughter
other relatives here
THE GRAVES FAMILY- the leaders
Mayor / Levi Graves / mayor & governor
Lady Mayor / Mary Graves / wife and the real leader
The Bartender / Clarence Miller Graves / eldest son
The Politician / name / youngest son
other relatives here THE CAMPBELL FAMILY- the ranchers
Rancher / Calvin Campbell / the rancher
The Homemaker / Mamie Campbell / domestic ruler
moniker / name / relation
moniker / name / relation
other relatives here
THE OTHER HUMANS
Percy Arryn
Charlie Arryn
Madeline Arryn Sabine Jacinta Moreau
Orion Boone Jeremiah Boone River Boone Kitty Boone Dallas Poole
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Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Jan 4, 2018 1:37:27 GMT -5
“We are rough men and used to rough ways.”
Code of Conduct rules and misc. things about this role play
EXPECTATIONS -- This role play is meant to be complex and interesting, but it also is meant to be quite dark. The themes of this role play are not for the faint of heart. I may have high expectations for characters because, especially the cursed, are meant to be complex characters. I only say this because none of them should be clean cut, completely good, or completely bad. Despite the fact they might fall on one side of the coin, being a peacemaker or a slaver, they should have their own individual goals and motivations. The effect of the curse/immortality is that their humanity is corrupted, and some started as already being morally corrupt. This effect is mental and physical. This is where creativity comes into play! Have fun making your characters changed in some way! They're becoming weapons of darkness. The curse is simultaneously becoming worse and backfiring. It was meant to protect the townspeople, but now they could harm the townspeople. Like I said, this role play is advanced, not just in literacy with 700 word posts and good detail, but also in the concepts.
RESPECT -- a broad sweeping rule that blankets the role play. Be kind to other people, even if your characters are not kind. Do not make mary sues or invincible characters. the cursed are strong, unable to be killed, but they have weaknesses and can be harmed. This role play is open for all people and encourages characters from all different backgrounds, ethnicities, and sexualities. If you have a problem with that, don't bother joining. Respect other people's wishes when it comes to their characters and selves. y'know, standard stuff.
FUN -- This role play was created because I have so much fun in this world, and I want you to have lots of fun as well! With that, please be active! as much as you can! I understand busy schedules, so please communicate. If we don't know where you are, we won't know to move on or not and then the role play can become stagnant. Which is not fun! also make an effort to role play with new and old members alike. the flow of people rping with each other and not just me or themselves definitely makes it easier to keep an rp moving. and you might make some new friends ;3
credit, because this wouldn't exist without some lovely people and ideas
1. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ℊℓоω for the beautiful layout. She not only created it, but she also created one of the first western rps I'd ever seen! I have loved westerns since I was a kid, but her original has definitely sparked ideas and she is always an inspiration to me.
11. the idea of demons being cursed in a town is definitely not my original idea. Wynonna Earp is one of my favorite tv shows, so I highly recommend it if this idea strikes your fancy. 10/10 111.
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Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Jan 4, 2018 16:27:58 GMT -5
SAVE
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Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Jan 4, 2018 16:29:31 GMT -5
OFFICIALLY OPEN ;3
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Post by ᴄɪɴɴᴀᴍᴏɴ ʙɪʀᴅ on Jan 4, 2018 16:33:44 GMT -5
i may or may not have been lurking waiting for the official opening
should i just post my charries on the join page? only jen is finished but i can complete the other forms later ]]
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Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Jan 4, 2018 16:39:30 GMT -5
thank you Glowstick! it wouldn't have happened without your amazing ability to code and you giving me the template<333
aha, yes everyone should post their characters on the official joining page so everything is in one spot~
and I will start working on a jumping off post!
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Post by Nιɳʝα☯ on Jan 4, 2018 16:48:03 GMT -5
Hurrah
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Post by lozi on Jan 4, 2018 16:56:25 GMT -5
May I join?
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Post by 𝒇𝒂 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒏 on Jan 4, 2018 17:01:47 GMT -5
[[ oooooh~ I'm so excited! ]]
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Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Jan 4, 2018 17:04:15 GMT -5
whoop whoop! Ninj! Mush! <333
certainly Astro~
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Post by Nιɳʝα☯ on Jan 4, 2018 17:28:49 GMT -5
#proudmom
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Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Jan 4, 2018 17:37:57 GMT -5
Crystal Snake BarThere came a point on any given night when the clouds rolled in from deep in the valley with a biting wind and sudden lack of stars. It was a telltale sign to the residents of Copperhead that the devils were out to play. Usually, the civilians knew by feeling when they were coming and either packed it on home or risked the chance of being ripped apart. As long as they went out with a whiskey in their hand, most of the men didn’t care.
But the drunks were stumbling home, the wives pulling their curtains tightly closed and the chatter from inside the warmly lit buildings of Copperhead seemed to quiet for a while. It usually took a few hours, but then the darkly clad figures would start to meander in. At a glance, they could’ve looked normal. Just a bunch of newcomers sweeping into the Crystal Snake for a pint and a hand of cards, but the air seemed to ripple around them as one or two entered, the atmosphere taking on a heavier and dimmer weight.
Outside, the clouds had parted to reveal the sliver of ghostly moon and it’s crown of stars. In a swirl of cream skirts and long red hair, Isa Eros exited the bar with a cigarette tucked between her fingers. Leaning on the post outside of the bar, her eyes scoured the dark night. Despite being late July, a chill had seeped into the air, spreading goosebumps down the bare flesh of her arms. How easy it would be to slip away from the bar and nip down to the Rattler. Life had been so boringly quiet lately, nothing a little spell wouldn’t fix. Copperhead had grown, many of the children grown up into young adults who would soon make even more babies.
As is the cycle of life, Isa supposed. This was the time that her love potions, spells, and rituals came in handy. Desperate girls who wanted their handsome young ranchers would come to her by her river. She would never be done with the thrill of magic. How powerful it could become, how much it made her feel human. She had never been human, but she figured the euphoric rush of spells was the closest she’d ever get.
The clouds continued to shift away, the fires from the torches that hung on the houses illuminated their wide dirt path. Now, July seemed to remember what her job was and the sticky warmth swept in again. And with it was a lone rider on a jet-black horse. Just as quickly as her goosebumps came and went, they prickled her skin again. She’d known that beautiful stallion and tall figure anywhere. He ambled up, reining his horse next to the others and swung gracefully off as if he’d been riding a horse for the last hundred and fifty years. Which, Isa knew, he had.
Before she could move back into the bar, a cold sweat broke out across her skin and the dew drops of sweat that had gathered on her forehead now made her feel clammy. With a slightly hitched gait, nondescript black suit and hat, Jackson S. Clark moved past the hitching post and into the dim glow from the bar. “Isa.” His voice pinned her to her spot, his lightning blue eyes pinning her to the spot. He was slow moving, a cane in his hand as he moved up the steps towards her.
“Jack of Knives,” She replied, her voice smooth as butter. He tipped the brim of his hat to her, and her heart jumped to her throat at the sight of his claws. Despite the inherent fear that tangled with her curiosity, she kept a warm smile on her lips, hip cocked out, and chest pushed forward. She looked away to snap her fingers in front of her cigarette, the end flaring with a sudden flame that ticked off her fingers. She inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly. The smoke clouded the air and just as it drifted away, Jack was in the bar.
She let out a sigh of relief and slid down to sit on the steps as her knees trembled.
xxx
The bar doors opened and the laughter cut off. Except for a few gambling tables. The candles tiny flames shivered for a second, before returning to their cheerful glow and the chattered started up again. Jack lifted his hat off his head and slide his fingers carefully through his hair, smoothing the thinning dark waves. He stepped quietly up to the bar, smiling at the noticeable stiffens from several of the older men sitting closest to the door. The bartender wasn’t looking his way yet, and so he placed his hat on the counter and then began the audible taps.
Eyes darkened as they trailed to the source of the noise. Wicked iron claws tapped rhythmically against the old wood, loud and sharp. The metallic click of them would have faded to white noise, had the nails not been tapered into perfect iron points. “Hey, Jackie boy.” A familiar southern lilt paused the tapping.
“Doc,” Jack’s voice was alluring, even if there was something off about him. He turned on his heel, the dark clad figure grinning at him. The candles shivered again as another devil passed next to them, the light dimming around the two figures. Jack said nothing as Doc sidled up to him, leaning on the bar and clearly already quite drunk. Doc’s gray eyes already had a shimmer to them, a laughter in his lips. But Jack didn’t doubt that his fingers would be steady on his pistol slung on his hips.
Doc simply smirked, one elbow on the bar and the other on his hip. There seemed to be a stare down between the two of them, but the smile never faltered. Doc wasn’t afraid of Jack, he couldn’t be. He had no mortality to lose, his own southern charm matching the false gentlemanly wit of his darker counterpart. They’d be in this world for a hundred and so years, and had somehow, even though they lay on two sides of the coin, could respect each other.
A whiskey slid down the bar and quickly Doc swiped it just before it was caught in iron claws. “Jack be nimble, Jack better be quick,” Doc murmured as he straightened, sauntering back to his table of poker. But right before he could get out of range, the cane swung out and the snake head topper bit into Doc’s shoulder and halted him. Doc turned slowly, removing his hat and facing Jack.
But the iron devil was already in front of Jack, grabbing onto his wrist and curling his talons into the soft flesh of his wrist. Jack said nothing, just went to pluck the whiskey from Doc’s hands when he felt something press into his stomach. “Don’t worry, Jackie, I’m not happy to see you,” Doc murmured, pressing the silver pistol into Jack’s stomach. “Wouldn’t want to do this in front of the ladies,” He jerked his head to a few scantily clad girls giggling by one of the booths and at Isa, who had just reentered to tackle her next shift of serving drinks.
Blood welled up underneath Jack’s nails, his grip becoming stronger. Doc’s smile twitched and a hint of pain shone in his darkened gray eyes. Sweat curled on the edge of his brow, the feverish pallor of his skin evident up close. Red flashed on the tips and Doc winced as Jack pulled away. Four crescent burns lay on the inside of his wrist now, the shallow slices cauterized shut. Doc twirled his pistol back into his low slung belt and headed back over to his table, pulling his sleeve down over the welts.
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Post by Nιɳʝα☯ on Jan 4, 2018 19:37:35 GMT -5
August Tully Westmore .x.
On any given night, if August Westmore had to find one of his fellow hellish acquaintances, he would have to look no further than the Crystal Snake. The decrepit, dirty excuse of a bar, which Augustus loathed with a secret vengeance, was the chosen environment for the immortals to get drunk off their minds and partake in the very human activities many of them sought to escape in the first place.
In their defense, it wasn’t like the demons had much to do anyway. Being eternally damned in a ghost-town like Copperhead made his life sentence that much worse. Having traveled the world on account of his profession, August had seen both impressive metropolitan feats and faint villages. He figured it must have been karma that locked in the least interesting town of all America. It couldn’t have been New York City or even Charleston. Nope. He was stuck in Copperhead, the place only where only its inhabitants treasured the dusty door hinges clinging to the crusty buildings by one tough nail.
Yeah. It was a f- dream.
Regardless, his otherwise supernatural needs didn’t need to be satisfied tonight, in fact, he was feeling pretty normal. That is, if feeling normal entailed dancing precariously on the brim of insanity. Lucky for the brave locals who decided to challenge fate by staying out later, there was one less demon seeking blood this very night.
He had entered the bar a little bit before the “leader” of his group did, Jackson S. Clark. The demon, the blood thirsty embodiment of what the older humans whispered to their children at night to keep them from acting off. Had these children been given the horror of seeing ol’ Jack of Knives with their own eyes, then there would be no need for parents to reprimand their children ever again. August himself definitely found his counterpart intimidating, but scary may have been taking it a step too far. Perhaps he just hadn’t seen him in the right light, for Gus would never dare tell Jack what he thought of him.
Nonetheless, the slim young man sat in a booth seat, an area cloaked in shadow where he could enjoy himself in his solitude. Cupped between his hands was a stout glass filled halfway to the top with a dark sap colored liquid. Lifting the cup to his lips, he let the now warmer liquid flow to the back of his throat and with a quick grimace he took a swig and set it back down. He bared his teeth as the fiery drink made its way down his esophagus.
The commotion in the room was sourced to a skirmish between Doc and Jack. Rolling his eyes at the swagger contest between the two very old men, August took to gazing intently at the Bar’s entrance, hoping something interesting would make its way through the doorway.
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Post by Nιɳʝα☯ on Jan 4, 2018 20:25:59 GMT -5
reply for sabine coming up soon C: you can literally see my muse growing as the night goes on tf
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Post by Nιɳʝα☯ on Jan 4, 2018 22:03:34 GMT -5
Sabine Jacinta Moreau .x.
Sabine swore she could feel it pulsating in her hand, and with each ticking moment she thought she could feel an alien warmth growing from a dim ember to a small fire licking at the sensitive skin of her fingers. Her already pouting expression was further accentuated as she felt the corners of her lips drop in a frown. Was it supposed to do this?. In the dark, her eyes matched the endlessly deep sky above, their brown color cloaking whatever emotion may have been easy to see in a different light.
Flicking her gaze down to the object in her hand, Sabine slowly unfurled her fingers the expose the subject in question. Upon first impressions, no one would give it a second glance. Old, weathered leather acted as the fabric of a miniature pouch, and the only discernible aspect which may have piqued someone’s interest was a small collection of lines stitched into the front facing plane.
Running her thumb over the raised lines created by the stitches, she let her mind wander back to earlier that evening, when she had been making the stitches into the rough material.
“Take head with your work. Make every stitch purposeful.”
His voice sounded clear as days in the echoes in of her mind, as if he was standing right next to her, guiding each of her movements with his own rough hands. The deep timbre of his voice resonated in her bind, bouncing back and forward between what should have been the beginning and end, that is if the mind itself wasn’t an expansive space.
The sound of a commotion within the building before her jerked the young woman from her fervor, and she looked back up at the bar’s entrance. It was nothing special, two wooden swinging doors enclosed a warm radiating light that spread to wash most of the street around her in a soft golden glow. Most people would find it inviting, a happy place to forget the day’s troubles and drink your problems away, but to Sabine it was unknown territory. Despite not being much of a drinker, Sabine had no real reason to go to the liquor house.
Tonight though, this very night this was the destination of her endeavor. To a deliver a simple talisman to one of the woman working inside. After her father had abruptly passed away, the remaining Moreau woman had been scrambling to keep their lifestyle comfortable. She had been selling a woven blanket to an older woman when the young saloon worker had pulled her aside, claiming to recognize her father’s features on her. The woman, Cherry, had bought work from her father before and she was in need of it again.
So here she was, Gris-gris in hand as she stared at what shouldn’t have been such a daunting scene before her. The darkness of night greedily gnawing at the light’s edge indicated the late time of evening, and with every minute the shadows surrounding her seemed to grow closer.
This has never bothered me before. Pull it together, bête.
Closing her fingers back around the pouch and giving it a firm squeeze, she quickly slipped the talisman into the pocket of her brown skirts and made quick work of the stairs. Sabine hesitated for a moment, letting out a brief breath more pushing her way through the entrance. She first registered light, and the loud sound of jeering men and clinking glasses. Blinking to get acclimated to the scene, she slowly scanned the bodies around the room before stopping her gaze on a busty blonde girl. She was currently being juggled on the lap of some random man, and from her body language it seemed like he had overstayed his touch.
With a satisfied sound escaping her throat, Sabine weaved through the chairs, easily squeezing through more of the clumsy customers before placing a light touch on the girl’s shoulder.
“Cherry”, she vied for the girl’s attention, but on her lips the girls name sounded more like the fortified wine of Spain.
“Huh-Oh! Sabine, I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Let me just…”, the woman, actually named Cheryl, grabbed the man’s wrist and pried it off of her waist.
She then indicated for Sabine to follow and led her to a quieter part of the room, partially hidden behind the wall behind the bar. Nodding, Sabine pulled the talisman out of her pocket and folded it into Cheryl’s fair hands. “Just keep it on your person when its influenced is needed…you know-" she started, a small blush crept up her neck much to her disapproval.
“Honey, don’t worry. This isn’t my first rodeo”, Cheryl cut her off and placed the necklace in the space created between her corset and bosom while simultaneously handing Sabine some coins in payment. “Thank you kindly”, Cheryl said, flashing an enigmatic smile at the female before another voice called from across the room.
“Ya’ll better be working out a plan to make my night worth it, I didn’t pay sh- to watch you from across the room Cherry baby”, the older gentleman hollered.
Giving Sabine an apologetic look, she squeezed her hand once more before sauntering back across the room with the one of the fakest laughs that Sabine had ever heard. Raising her eyebrows, she took a few steps forward and leaned on the wall to her side, putting all her weight in one of her hips. Despite the infamous reputation that the night brought, Sabine would have thought she was looking at any other town bar. There were a few shady individuals that definitely emanated an otherwise dark and malevolent aura, but for some off reason, the unsettling feeling they brought her was not all unfamiliar.
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Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Jan 4, 2018 23:43:28 GMT -5
Doc Holliday
Having ambled back to his card game and settled himself back into the chair, Doc withdrew himself from the next game, his thumb brushing over the stinging cuts. It would most definitely scar, his old wounds from Jack had, including the oldest silvery scar, which traced his temple down to the hinge of his jaw before curving underneath his jaw and chin.
Doc swirled the shot of whiskey around in the bottom of his crystalline glass, his other hand falling from his wrist and resting on his pistol. It was a cherished thing; ancient but polished. The smooth curves of the silver were marred with scars to her barrel and a few sloppy runes carved into the silver handle. It was only one of the three silvery things on Doc.
Otherwise, he was dressed in all black from his spurred boots to the collared shirt, flowing black coat, and dusted up black hat. The belt around his hips had his silver pistol, silver rounds of bullets, and a gaudy silver buckle. The black he wore washed him out, made his light pallor even more translucent, his gray eyes dark as coal under his long lashes and in the flickering light of the candles.
Doc drew in a deep breath, the smoky air of the tavern irritating his already shot lungs. He stifled a cough into a red handkerchief, unsure if the metallic burn of blood would fill his mouth. Despite the curse keeping him alive far beyond the human life span, it had not taken the consumption. Death warmed over was how he liked to describe how he felt, even though he had strength in his bones, the curse could not give him new lungs. The cigars certainly didn't help.
But the liquid opium did.
His fingers tightened around a slender hip flask and carefully poured a few splashes into his whiskey, swirling it together again. "So, Doc, what was that about over there?" The greasy older man across from Doc asked, cards flushed to his chest in one hand and mopping his sweaty brow with the a kerchief in his other hand.
"Whatever do you mean, friend?" Doc asked with a knowing smile, downing the entire whiskey and putting it back on the table, finger running along the rim. His eyes flicked away from his sweaty friends to see Cheryl pull herself from the vice grip of a few drunken old men. A typical scene of debauchery that Doc had since grown accustomed to. And he knew why the men loved Cherry, her hands and lips were legendary. But it was a girl that pulled her away from the men. A girl with glossy chocolate curls, cinnamon skin, and whiskey eyes. Doc's eyes followed her slender silhouette to the backroom, where she vanished with the fair Cherry. In his enjoyment of the view, he missed what his friend had said. "Oh Jackie, we go back a long way, it's nothing," Doc drawled, his tongue curling around the nothing and making it curl like a ribbon into the air. His persuasive charm had been enhanced for all of his years as a demon, and his friends just went back to their card game. Enough persuasion usually made the mortals forget about any wrong doing or strange happening within Copperhead.
Doc turned his head, rising to get himself another drink before perhaps moving to one of the other demon friendly bars on this side of town when his eyes caught the dark eyes of the newcomer. He knew she was fairly new, even though her family was now woven into the narrative that they'd been there for generations. But he'd never caught her name. When her eyes found his, he flashed a warm smile and winked, strolling up near her and the bar. "What's your poison, miss?" He drawled, flicking his fingers to the bartender who was already preparing his bourbon. His gray eyes slid back to her, and now that she was close enough he could see a scar along her eyebrow and the splattering of bronze freckles on her sweet face.
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Post by Nιɳʝα☯ on Jan 5, 2018 1:24:27 GMT -5
Sabine Jacinta Moreau .x. Now, any curious onlooker witnessing the interaction between Cheryl and Sabine would have been confused. Just what had transpired between the two? There was a common breed of men, and even some woman who religiously frequented establishments like this. So what was a brown girl doing, handling funny business in the shadows where no one could see her.
As most would assume, children are not favorable in the line of work employed by Miss Cheryl Delloit, In fact, being out of business for even a full nine months would be devastating to her income. She would probably go broke, or even insane in the process. She knew herself well, and a mother was not an adjective that she had planned to use on herself for a good while.
Although she was initially surprised by the woman’s sudden insistence, Sabine was more than happy to provide the woman with the Gris-gris. While it may not had been completely fool-proof, she had never seen one fail her family before. Perhaps that was just her blind faith in her father’s work. She was, after all, the descent on a Voodoo Queen, but instead of recollecting this key fact, the girl just innately believed in her family’s practice.
Despite having lived in Copperhead for all her life, Sabine seldom found herself in the town’s main streets. There really was no reason for her to prowl about the townsfolk, especially when she was younger. It was her father that was carrying the family, he was the charismatic fellow able to attract a stranger from across the way, just from the tenor of his voice and air about him.
When she got older, her father would bring her with him, to study how he interacted with customers and infiltrated a society where their method of business was foreign to the Western culture of Copperfield. That is, until she really was able to get a closer look to the daily lives of the townspeople. There was something else working in these parts, an ancient energy that sometimes left her confused and nostalgic.
Still, in more ways than one, the people of Copperhead were home. Sabine had settled against the wall, letting her body relax as the likelihood of someone questioning her actions ebbed away with the growing raucous in the room. Seeing as there was no outlandishly interesting things happening at the moment, Sabine found that she could let her mind wander aimlessly. A blurred fog slowly infiltrated her vision as her focus waned.
A dark blob in the distance started moving towards her. It was getting closer. It was coming towards her.
Sh*t… Sh*t. Sh*t.Sh*t. Sh*t.
She didn’t even try to think of something elegant, she couldn’t form a cohesive sentence if she wanted to. Someone had seen her. Now they were going to ask her about her business. Her eyes widened slightly, and one hand placed firmly against the wall helped adjust her position to upright stance.
As her eyes locked on the man on the man striding over to her, Sabine couldn’t help but feel a cold shudder crawl up her spine. Of all the people to confront her, it was one the most mysterious and unsettling man that she had to explain herself to. His eyes, deep pools of an odd metallic color seemed to strip her bare. The feeling was enticing, and while it may have been uncomfortable for some, she found his captured attention thrilling. This was probably to most exciting thing she’d experienced in years. "What's your poison, miss?
The question was simple, but the stranger’s choice in words instantly soothed her inward qualms. Settling back on her heels, she slowly raised her arms to cross under her chest and let the faintest of smirks grace her features. “So you condone this rowdy behavior? I would think someone like you would be above a place like this”, she started. She wasn’t much a drinker, Sabine new that there were more important things to spend money on, but if someone offered to buy it for her it would be rude to decline.” I bet you think naïve, a girl with the basic tastes developed slowly by the men I surround myself with” she said to him with a shrug. “Oh, I’d like a whiskey, rye. That would be the normal thing to do. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the drink was already made”, she added with a wistful sigh.
In the back of her mind, something was screaming, her innate fight or flight response made to keep her safe. Too bad the lass lived for the thrills life had to offer.“I’m old friends with a different taste, one I find warmer, more familiar”, she started slowly. “I would be happy with tequila if they have it. If not, please take it upon yourself to surprise me ”, she finished with a nod. By now the man was close to her, close enough to touch him.
A rueful thought in the back of her mind suddenly plagued her attention. She wasn’t sure how he typically dressed but it was a step above the others. Hers? She would consider a step down. An off white blouse with capped sleeves clung to her slender shoulders threatening to fall down her arms, the loose shirt into the tied hem at her waist. Her casual skirts were a dusty tan color, a couple shades darker than her skin, and wrapped skillfully around her waist was a scarf which would act as a shawl as the cooler weather took settled in. Oh well, its not like she planned to be here long.
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Post by lozi on Jan 5, 2018 8:08:23 GMT -5
[ Aaah you guys are way better writers than me... I worry I won't be able to keep up if I join. ]
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Jan 5, 2018 12:29:04 GMT -5
.K B . Kitty stuffed her homework unceremoniously into her backpack. “Your brother is here,” her friend Haley announced in a low, which was confirmed by the sound of a truck pulling into the gravel parking lot. The other students in her biology class looking up from their books, but no one else dared to break the silence of reading time. At the front of the class, Mrs. Henry watched them like a hawk from her desk. She glared at Kitty over her tiny reading glasses as the sixteen year old slung her bag over her shoulder and exited the room. She felt her pace quickening in the halls. There was a blue absence pass clutched in her hands, held so tightly it crumpled in her grip.
Period cramps, she’d told the nurse. The nurse was actually a male health and gym teacher, and he bought her excuse with a look of thinly veiled terror. He was the type who pretended his female students were too young and innocent to have something as disgustingly adult as a reproductive system. Which also said a lot about his teaching. He allowed Kitty to use his phone to call a guardian. Her finger’s paused on the buttons before dialing the number of her oldest brother. This had all transpired before lunch. The whole ordeal was giving her piercing anxiety. She’d never pretended to be sick in order to get out of school. As she fast-walked down the main hall, she half expected the principal to come bursting out of one of the nearby classrooms to expose her secret.
Jeremiah’s truck was the color of dirty dishwater. Spots of rust eroded the metal above the wheels. A number of permanent dents battered the vehicle’s sides, and there was a distinct crack in the windshield. Kitty awaited a judgemental look from her brother. She could see the thin trail of cigarette smoke drifting from the driver’s window.
When she threw open the door, she felt his whiskey brown eyes scan her from above.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Dad,” he said.
She hesitated. It occurred to her she could act offended that he even suggest she was faking. But Jeremiah could always read her mind, and she was never much of a liar.
She threw her backpack onto the small middle seat of the truck, then hoisted herself up. When she slammed the door behind her, Jeremiah reached to turn up the radio. She looked out the window forlornly. The sky was patterned on the glass of the small school’s windows. From inside, Haley and the others looked on enviously like prisoners left behind in a carefully planned escape. She gave her friend a small wave and then felt the truck sputter to life beneath her.
The only radio station in the county was full of static and often failed to Copperhead altogether. Out on the school property, enthusiastic Mexican music could be tapped into by anyone with a functioning machine. Otherwise, Kitty imagined, it drifted in the air on long wavelengths of light. Filling the empty desert and vanishing into the distant mountains.
“I don’t have to sign you out or anything?” asked Jeremiah over the music.
“No,” replied Kitty. She could see her own face reflected in the side mirror. Neatly braided hair. Scattered freckles. Big blue eyes of a child. At least she was missing choir. She hadn’t even told Haley the real reason why she couldn’t bear to be in school on that particular day. Perhaps Jeremiah knew, which was why he agreed to take the afternoon off from his carpentry work to pick her up. Of course he knew.
“Dad probably won’t come home tonight. He likes to visit her grave on the anniversary. And he’ll probably visit his brothers on the way back,” said Jeremiah. He watched the road fold beneath the truck as they drove toward the town.
“I know,” said Kitty. “Can we talk about it?” she asked a second later. She looked over to him, watched his long fingers tighten around the worn leather steering wheel. “I’m old enough now to know. Even Haley’s parents told her what happened, but she won’t talk about it either. Says it should be my family that tells me. But none of you ever tell me anything. It’s like the whole town knows but me.”
They were silent for a moment, and she focused on the trilling of the jovial trumpet on the radio. She pictured her mother’s grave. A simple rock headstone under a young aspen tree. It wasn’t a sad place for her. All of it had happened when she was small, and she couldn’t really remember what her mom was like. At least, she didn’t trust her memories. They were supplemented from the occasional story by her brothers, or from the pictures on the mantle in her father’s bedroom.
“It’s not their business to talk about” Jeremiah’s voice was low and clear under the high pitch of the music. The truck kicked in protest as they peeled into town. Their property was in the other direction. Kitty looked to her brother, eyebrows pinched in question. “Let’s get something to drink.”
The tavern peeled into view and soon the truck jolted to a halt against the curb. Kitty exhaled in protest, but threw open her door. She knew the situation didn’t warrant an argument. Besides, Jeremiah wouldn’t talk if she angered him.
The town being small as it was, no one protested when someone underage entered the bar. No one even bothered staring as she followed her brother inside, arms folded in front of her. She slid onto one of the open bar stools as he ordered himself a drink. There were peanuts on the bar and though she was hungry, she didn’t trust them enough to put them in her mouth. They’d probably been sitting there untouched for months. She stayed quiet as she peered at the occupants of the tavern. There were a number of familiar faces, others she was unsure of. Among them was a man with strange looking nails and a pretty dark skinned woman who couldn’t have been much older than herself.
“Don’t look so glum,” Jeremiah said in her ear as he sat down beside her. He gave her upper arm a squeeze before taking a sip of his drink. “We won’t stay long.”
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