Fetzennice! I also dabble a little in an attempt to write books :3
Candy
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Bio
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Hi!
Candy or Candice is fine. I've RP'd a lot between friends but sometimes I just feel like having someone new and fresh to play with, which is why this forum is nice.
My RP interests:
Middle Ages, Ancient history, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Western, Horror, Futuristic, Slice of Life, Romance. Pretty much anything if it's done well.
Middle Ages, Ancient history, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Western, Horror, Futuristic, Slice of Life, Romance. Pretty much anything if it's done well.
A few other things you might want to know
- I keep what I write as legible as I can and expect the same love from my partner.
- Mature content is fine, but the story comes first... unless it is the story.
- Blood and guts are okay but it should be done well.
- I prefer to RP with guys.
- I like a lot of genres and Era's: Ancient History, Fantasy, Medieval, Western, Horror, Sci-Fi, Futuristic, Slice of Life, Romance and more (no anime, furry, or extreme fetish please).
- I'm a young adult, but I'm not skittish or easily offended. I prefer for people to be forward with me. Just as long as you respect my wishes, I will respect yours as well. Please don't be shy. Speak your mind.
- I don't expect fast responses every day or every hour or anything like that. Long as you are somewhat consistent, then you can take your time and enjoy it.
- Please don't start an RP with me unless you're are committed. I know Real Life can sometimes make things unpredictable, but I do appreciate it when someone joins an RP with the best intentions in mind, not just join because you might be bored shitless for the next few days or something like that lol.
- I'm inclined to play via PM, but if you really have a hankering to go open then that could be arranged.
If you're interested in RPing with me, go ahead and send me a PM with ideas! :)
Friendly chats and hello's are also welcome.
Friendly chats and hello's are also welcome.
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Most Recent Posts
Good to see the Guild is back to functioning normally again! XD
Thank you! I love that you're intrigued by her! I've been aiming to keep certain aspects of just who she is a mystery to unfold in time.
And I don't want you to worry about my vague handling of Reuben, I only did what I deemed necessary to set up the atmosphere of a passing scene and ensure no communication was made with the mystery man. It wasn't intending to play your character at all! (in case you were wondering) I may be GM but I honestly don't like controlling other players character and I expect no one to do that to my characters either. It's more interesting if partners have a lot of freedom to move around :)
And I don't want you to worry about my vague handling of Reuben, I only did what I deemed necessary to set up the atmosphere of a passing scene and ensure no communication was made with the mystery man. It wasn't intending to play your character at all! (in case you were wondering) I may be GM but I honestly don't like controlling other players character and I expect no one to do that to my characters either. It's more interesting if partners have a lot of freedom to move around :)
Once Reuben no less than politely shut the door after him, Abigail remained waiting on the bed for him to return for the bottle he’d left behind. Surprisingly, only a little time passed before she heard Reuben ridding himself of the whore in his room in a not so pleasant manner. Thin walls. A minute or two after that, she heard the whore tramping past her own door on rout back down to the saloon.
“He ain’t coming back for his bottle….” She uttered with the forming of a grin and the narrowing of her eyes, fixated curiosly on the friend he’d so easily forsaken. It was surprising just how many discrepancies came to the mind from this one act alone; one minute he’s given to drink and whoring, next minute he’s the preacher’s son. Now Abigail didn’t mind the prospect of a man giving up his sordid ways for a noble cause, of sorts, but she hadn’t come down in the last rainfall either. She was more than well aware of the grip the bottle can have on a man, far be it the man on the bottle. Given this unstable behavior, which may have very well been a common and repeated practice for a man of weak will, it was all very likely a sobering sleep would have him thinking twice about the decision he made tonight. But then… maybe he’d manage to surprise her once again. Either way it didn’t really matter none, if he succeeded in letting her down, she could always just go on ahead and find someone with more of a stable inclination to fill his boots.
As for Abigail, well, sleeping wasn’t on the agenda for the time being. She’d done enough of that in the wilderness two miles out of town earlier that day. Right now she had herself some further business to conduct. Kicking her feet from the bed she sat up, holstering her colt, rubbing her legs, gazing out at the darkness through the open shutter of the window, giving careful foresight to her next due course of action. …Things were gonna get dirty.
She slipped on her black leather gloves.
Audrey Springs. Higgins General Store, 10:45 PM.
“We’re closed!"
John Higgins was a little more than startled at the thumping on his door. He stood stricken for a moment, one arm stacked with packaged beef jerky he’d been replenishing the rack on his service counter with. He had to consider his situation for a moment, confirming in his own mind that it was, indeed, well past the hours of trading.
“You’ll have to come back in the morning! You hear?”
A second, louder rapping at the door did not cease to alarm John, this time causing the cradled jerky to loose from his arm. The packaged meat was still settling in a scattered mess on the floor when he turned and unhooked the rifle from the wall. Kicking the jerky from his path, he edged his way to the end of the counter, crouching in the shadow of the rack he had been aiming to replenish.
“I told you already!” He hollered, unable to hide his trembles. “Trading Post is closed for this day. We will be open again at eight in the AM. I would be much obliged if you were kind enough to return at that time!”
A third procession of heavy rapping rattled the door in its frame, but this time the knocking was followed up by a females voice calling in at him –
“Mr. I need your help! Please open this door – I’m in a desperate situation out here!”
John was not good at determining a person’s age by their voice alone, but this particular voice had no doubt been born of a lady in her youth. Despite its nonthreatening appeal, he did not recognize the voice as any of his many acquaintances in the town Audrey Springs. Still, the age and gender of the visitor was enough have him loosen his grip on the rifle, just a smidgen, as his posture straightened some as well. He stepped out from the shadow, angling his head to stare curiously down the aisle. Unfortunately, the nightlight lantern dangling from the ceiling did not prove successful in illuminating any image beyond the upper glass fixture of the doorframe.
“Desperate or no, Miss….” John took two paces toward the door; “You will need to return in the morning or go seek assistance at the saloon across the way.”
“I can’t do that!” She replied, her voice distinct with panic. “I’m just a young girl – I be scared of them folks! Please, Mr. I need your help right straight! Me and my parents were attacked by bandits some distance out of town. I’ve ran all this way. My daddy be dead. My mamma be wounded and bleed’n bad. I do not expect you to leave the safety of your home, but I would be in your debt if you allowed me take some supplies. I need be tending to my mother’s wounds.”
“This is a trading post, Miss! It is not my duty to be tending to such drama. You will be needing to see the sheriff about that!”
“I have already attempted to do just that!” The girl paused before commencing, the anxiety in her voice rising a considerable amount; “But the sheriff did not answer my calling. I do believe he’s otherwise occupied at this time, which is why I am at your very door – I am asking for your help, Mr. Please have mercy. My mother does not have all night. If you could please just find in your heart to help.”
John continued to edge ever closer to the door, one finger tapping the forestock of his riffle in careful deliberation. “How do I know you’re not accompanied by others, little Miss? I’ve been beguiled before on none too few occasions. Now be gone with ya! Return in the morning or head on over to the saloon. I’m confident you’d find a man or two there willing to help a young lady like yourself.”
At the closing of his words, John could hear the girl beginning to cry, her tone breaking with emotion and sniffling back a breath between each pleading phrase she spoke; "I-I’m just s-so scared right now, Mr. …My daddy always told me not to enter them s-saloons alone…. But he’s all dead now, he is…. I’m really, really scared – please…. All I need is a little help. ….Please don’t let my mamma die as well.”
“Shit…” John completed his creeping to the door, bringing his face right close to the glass as to take a good look outside. He couldn’t view anything at first, not until he rolled his eyes down to see just one small person standing there. She had her head hung low, the top of her hat being all he could see, that, and a portion of her shoulder, which faintly displayed the shrugs of her continued sobbing. “You sure you’re all alone, little Miss?”
Th-that I am…. Please just help me, Mr…. My daddy be dead….”
Taking a step back, John lowered his rifle in one hand and fished the key from his pant pocket with the other. With the key in hand, he paused for an instant, calming his nerves before unlocking the door, leaving the key in the hole as he turned the handle. The door swung open in a hurry as the young lady rushed her way through the threshold, head still lowered as she passed him by. He swiftly shut the door behind her, locked it, and then turned around to meet the barrel of a gun staring him dead in the eye.
John let out a long, shaken sigh as he just then realized he’d been beguiled once again. That was the third time this month someone had managed to get the better of his bleeding heart in some manner or another. As his eyes shifted from the barrel in his face, he took focus on the girl. She was standing side-on, feet apart, face covered by a neckerchief, dry eyes barely visible in the shadow of her hat.
“Well, God damn it all to hell, you shifty bitch….”
“To be perfectly honest with ya…” She replied, her softly rasped voice no longer exhibiting the vaguest hint of emotion; “…getting past your door was harder than I had anticipated. So Kudos to you, Mr.” Her gloved finger gently caressed the trigger, barrel steady as any man could hold on target. “Now listen real close to my words. You attempt make’n a peep or raise that there rifle against me, and I’ll decorate your shop with them brains of yours. Now here’s what I want you to do….. You’re gonna extend that arm real slow and place that weapon on the counter. Then, without even so much as one word from your mouth, you’re gonna take two steps to your left and lay yourself face down on the floor. After that, you’re gonna place your hands behind your back and bend them knees of yours. Give me a nod of that ugly head if you understand.”
Johns face had become pale, a tickle of sweat was beading its way down his forehead, a tear of humility in his eye as he regrettably nodded confirmation. Following this, he did just as she had suggested. She may have just been a young woman, and none one too big a girl at that, but her unprecedented whit and cold words had him taking no chances with his life. This clearly wasn’t her first armed holdup.
Abigail kept her colt steadily aimed until John had laid himself down as specified. She then fetched a length of rope, made herself a double noose knot, and thread both of his hands through the nooses before tying the loose ends to his ankles.
“More ya struggle the tighter them knots’ll get.” She tells him, commencing her prowling of the store. “Now just hold tight and quiet like. I’ll be gone before you know it.”
The only utterings John made were a few little grunting sobs while Abigail took her pick of certain foodstuffs and other essentials, including a pretty sum of dollars from the cash drawer. She stuffed most of the contents in a cloth sack and, as a last little spoil, grabbed a handful of lemon flavored penny candy from a jar on the service counter. She shoved the candy in her trouser pocket.
Before leaving she stood above John, boots almost touching his face as she peered down at him. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Rest assured, I‘ll be reimburse’n everything I owe at some point in the future. I’m a woman of my word – Now don’t go get'n it your head to be blabber'n about all this to any lawman at all. If you do that, the only reason I’ll be return'n is to put a slug in your head. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Wait on just a minute….” John finally found the audacity to speak again, given he figured that one last question wouldn’t be any real issue; “Who in the hell are you, anyway?”
Abigail let out a tiny laugh, though more of mocking one as she stooped down to gag him with a rolled up sock and a cut of cloth. “Wouldn’t be none too sharp of me to be share'n my name with ya, would it, Mr?” Standing up, and since the dirty job of contact was now well and truly over with, she tugged her gloves from her hands and let herself out.
A short time before sunrise.
While Reuben was reacquainting himself with his horse, he heard the trot of hooves come to a halt in the doorway of the stable behind him. The identity of the horse and its rider were not evident, silhouetted by the flame of a lamppost outside. Regardless of their details being completely hidden in the black of their profile, it was clear by their size and proportions that the rider was not Kate. They were certainly a man, slouched in his saddle and wearing a broken down broad brim hat, handle of a riffle jotting up from his back, quietly staring long enough for Reuben to understand he was being inspected. Once Reuben had become aware of this, the dark rider continued his eerie watch for a while longer before straightening in his saddle, turned his horse around, and then rode off slowly into what was left of the night.
Less than a mile out of town, Abigail was stationary, nestled in her saddle upon the first crest of the southbound track, watching the initial gray tint of dawn beyond the hills to the east of town.
-It was a tad funny in a cute kind of way, being such a small rider on that large, Thoroughbred stallion. Most folk might be inclined to say that Jack was too much horse for a girl like her, but she didn’t give god damn what people thought about it. She loved that horse more than life itself, and the horse loved her just as much straight back. Gender and species aside, Jack and Abigail had a great deal in common – two peas in a pod, one might say; they both had an attitude, they were both very smart, neither of them really trusted anybody, and they both had a certain disdain toward men. Truth is, Abigail was the first person he had ever let ride him. He was a loyal beast, following her everywhere, heeded without prompting and obeyed her every command. In a sense, their relationship was the darnedest thing, magical in a certain way of thinking-
When the sun at last peaked over the eastern hills, she was gently stroking Jack’s mane and talking real soft, relaying her doubts about Reuben ever actually turning up like he said he would. She had decided not to wait around in town, of course, since she didn’t feel it too wise to be hanging around in the morning after robbing the trading post, but she also didn’t see it as much of an issue – If Reuben was just a smidgen of the tracker he claimed to be, there wouldn’t be a problem locating her current position.
Saddlebags fat with provisions, the fresh scent of honeysuckle in the air, and the smallest little welling of a tear in her eye, Abigail waited as long as she was willing before giving up on Reuben – that being until the sun had revealed its whole body in the sky - then took to commencing her journey south…. Just herself and Jack alone, trotting on their way at a brisk, steady pace.
“He ain’t coming back for his bottle….” She uttered with the forming of a grin and the narrowing of her eyes, fixated curiosly on the friend he’d so easily forsaken. It was surprising just how many discrepancies came to the mind from this one act alone; one minute he’s given to drink and whoring, next minute he’s the preacher’s son. Now Abigail didn’t mind the prospect of a man giving up his sordid ways for a noble cause, of sorts, but she hadn’t come down in the last rainfall either. She was more than well aware of the grip the bottle can have on a man, far be it the man on the bottle. Given this unstable behavior, which may have very well been a common and repeated practice for a man of weak will, it was all very likely a sobering sleep would have him thinking twice about the decision he made tonight. But then… maybe he’d manage to surprise her once again. Either way it didn’t really matter none, if he succeeded in letting her down, she could always just go on ahead and find someone with more of a stable inclination to fill his boots.
As for Abigail, well, sleeping wasn’t on the agenda for the time being. She’d done enough of that in the wilderness two miles out of town earlier that day. Right now she had herself some further business to conduct. Kicking her feet from the bed she sat up, holstering her colt, rubbing her legs, gazing out at the darkness through the open shutter of the window, giving careful foresight to her next due course of action. …Things were gonna get dirty.
She slipped on her black leather gloves.
Audrey Springs. Higgins General Store, 10:45 PM.
“We’re closed!"
John Higgins was a little more than startled at the thumping on his door. He stood stricken for a moment, one arm stacked with packaged beef jerky he’d been replenishing the rack on his service counter with. He had to consider his situation for a moment, confirming in his own mind that it was, indeed, well past the hours of trading.
“You’ll have to come back in the morning! You hear?”
A second, louder rapping at the door did not cease to alarm John, this time causing the cradled jerky to loose from his arm. The packaged meat was still settling in a scattered mess on the floor when he turned and unhooked the rifle from the wall. Kicking the jerky from his path, he edged his way to the end of the counter, crouching in the shadow of the rack he had been aiming to replenish.
“I told you already!” He hollered, unable to hide his trembles. “Trading Post is closed for this day. We will be open again at eight in the AM. I would be much obliged if you were kind enough to return at that time!”
A third procession of heavy rapping rattled the door in its frame, but this time the knocking was followed up by a females voice calling in at him –
“Mr. I need your help! Please open this door – I’m in a desperate situation out here!”
John was not good at determining a person’s age by their voice alone, but this particular voice had no doubt been born of a lady in her youth. Despite its nonthreatening appeal, he did not recognize the voice as any of his many acquaintances in the town Audrey Springs. Still, the age and gender of the visitor was enough have him loosen his grip on the rifle, just a smidgen, as his posture straightened some as well. He stepped out from the shadow, angling his head to stare curiously down the aisle. Unfortunately, the nightlight lantern dangling from the ceiling did not prove successful in illuminating any image beyond the upper glass fixture of the doorframe.
“Desperate or no, Miss….” John took two paces toward the door; “You will need to return in the morning or go seek assistance at the saloon across the way.”
“I can’t do that!” She replied, her voice distinct with panic. “I’m just a young girl – I be scared of them folks! Please, Mr. I need your help right straight! Me and my parents were attacked by bandits some distance out of town. I’ve ran all this way. My daddy be dead. My mamma be wounded and bleed’n bad. I do not expect you to leave the safety of your home, but I would be in your debt if you allowed me take some supplies. I need be tending to my mother’s wounds.”
“This is a trading post, Miss! It is not my duty to be tending to such drama. You will be needing to see the sheriff about that!”
“I have already attempted to do just that!” The girl paused before commencing, the anxiety in her voice rising a considerable amount; “But the sheriff did not answer my calling. I do believe he’s otherwise occupied at this time, which is why I am at your very door – I am asking for your help, Mr. Please have mercy. My mother does not have all night. If you could please just find in your heart to help.”
John continued to edge ever closer to the door, one finger tapping the forestock of his riffle in careful deliberation. “How do I know you’re not accompanied by others, little Miss? I’ve been beguiled before on none too few occasions. Now be gone with ya! Return in the morning or head on over to the saloon. I’m confident you’d find a man or two there willing to help a young lady like yourself.”
At the closing of his words, John could hear the girl beginning to cry, her tone breaking with emotion and sniffling back a breath between each pleading phrase she spoke; "I-I’m just s-so scared right now, Mr. …My daddy always told me not to enter them s-saloons alone…. But he’s all dead now, he is…. I’m really, really scared – please…. All I need is a little help. ….Please don’t let my mamma die as well.”
“Shit…” John completed his creeping to the door, bringing his face right close to the glass as to take a good look outside. He couldn’t view anything at first, not until he rolled his eyes down to see just one small person standing there. She had her head hung low, the top of her hat being all he could see, that, and a portion of her shoulder, which faintly displayed the shrugs of her continued sobbing. “You sure you’re all alone, little Miss?”
Th-that I am…. Please just help me, Mr…. My daddy be dead….”
Taking a step back, John lowered his rifle in one hand and fished the key from his pant pocket with the other. With the key in hand, he paused for an instant, calming his nerves before unlocking the door, leaving the key in the hole as he turned the handle. The door swung open in a hurry as the young lady rushed her way through the threshold, head still lowered as she passed him by. He swiftly shut the door behind her, locked it, and then turned around to meet the barrel of a gun staring him dead in the eye.
John let out a long, shaken sigh as he just then realized he’d been beguiled once again. That was the third time this month someone had managed to get the better of his bleeding heart in some manner or another. As his eyes shifted from the barrel in his face, he took focus on the girl. She was standing side-on, feet apart, face covered by a neckerchief, dry eyes barely visible in the shadow of her hat.
“Well, God damn it all to hell, you shifty bitch….”
“To be perfectly honest with ya…” She replied, her softly rasped voice no longer exhibiting the vaguest hint of emotion; “…getting past your door was harder than I had anticipated. So Kudos to you, Mr.” Her gloved finger gently caressed the trigger, barrel steady as any man could hold on target. “Now listen real close to my words. You attempt make’n a peep or raise that there rifle against me, and I’ll decorate your shop with them brains of yours. Now here’s what I want you to do….. You’re gonna extend that arm real slow and place that weapon on the counter. Then, without even so much as one word from your mouth, you’re gonna take two steps to your left and lay yourself face down on the floor. After that, you’re gonna place your hands behind your back and bend them knees of yours. Give me a nod of that ugly head if you understand.”
Johns face had become pale, a tickle of sweat was beading its way down his forehead, a tear of humility in his eye as he regrettably nodded confirmation. Following this, he did just as she had suggested. She may have just been a young woman, and none one too big a girl at that, but her unprecedented whit and cold words had him taking no chances with his life. This clearly wasn’t her first armed holdup.
Abigail kept her colt steadily aimed until John had laid himself down as specified. She then fetched a length of rope, made herself a double noose knot, and thread both of his hands through the nooses before tying the loose ends to his ankles.
“More ya struggle the tighter them knots’ll get.” She tells him, commencing her prowling of the store. “Now just hold tight and quiet like. I’ll be gone before you know it.”
The only utterings John made were a few little grunting sobs while Abigail took her pick of certain foodstuffs and other essentials, including a pretty sum of dollars from the cash drawer. She stuffed most of the contents in a cloth sack and, as a last little spoil, grabbed a handful of lemon flavored penny candy from a jar on the service counter. She shoved the candy in her trouser pocket.
Before leaving she stood above John, boots almost touching his face as she peered down at him. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Rest assured, I‘ll be reimburse’n everything I owe at some point in the future. I’m a woman of my word – Now don’t go get'n it your head to be blabber'n about all this to any lawman at all. If you do that, the only reason I’ll be return'n is to put a slug in your head. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Wait on just a minute….” John finally found the audacity to speak again, given he figured that one last question wouldn’t be any real issue; “Who in the hell are you, anyway?”
Abigail let out a tiny laugh, though more of mocking one as she stooped down to gag him with a rolled up sock and a cut of cloth. “Wouldn’t be none too sharp of me to be share'n my name with ya, would it, Mr?” Standing up, and since the dirty job of contact was now well and truly over with, she tugged her gloves from her hands and let herself out.
A short time before sunrise.
While Reuben was reacquainting himself with his horse, he heard the trot of hooves come to a halt in the doorway of the stable behind him. The identity of the horse and its rider were not evident, silhouetted by the flame of a lamppost outside. Regardless of their details being completely hidden in the black of their profile, it was clear by their size and proportions that the rider was not Kate. They were certainly a man, slouched in his saddle and wearing a broken down broad brim hat, handle of a riffle jotting up from his back, quietly staring long enough for Reuben to understand he was being inspected. Once Reuben had become aware of this, the dark rider continued his eerie watch for a while longer before straightening in his saddle, turned his horse around, and then rode off slowly into what was left of the night.
Less than a mile out of town, Abigail was stationary, nestled in her saddle upon the first crest of the southbound track, watching the initial gray tint of dawn beyond the hills to the east of town.
-It was a tad funny in a cute kind of way, being such a small rider on that large, Thoroughbred stallion. Most folk might be inclined to say that Jack was too much horse for a girl like her, but she didn’t give god damn what people thought about it. She loved that horse more than life itself, and the horse loved her just as much straight back. Gender and species aside, Jack and Abigail had a great deal in common – two peas in a pod, one might say; they both had an attitude, they were both very smart, neither of them really trusted anybody, and they both had a certain disdain toward men. Truth is, Abigail was the first person he had ever let ride him. He was a loyal beast, following her everywhere, heeded without prompting and obeyed her every command. In a sense, their relationship was the darnedest thing, magical in a certain way of thinking-
When the sun at last peaked over the eastern hills, she was gently stroking Jack’s mane and talking real soft, relaying her doubts about Reuben ever actually turning up like he said he would. She had decided not to wait around in town, of course, since she didn’t feel it too wise to be hanging around in the morning after robbing the trading post, but she also didn’t see it as much of an issue – If Reuben was just a smidgen of the tracker he claimed to be, there wouldn’t be a problem locating her current position.
Saddlebags fat with provisions, the fresh scent of honeysuckle in the air, and the smallest little welling of a tear in her eye, Abigail waited as long as she was willing before giving up on Reuben – that being until the sun had revealed its whole body in the sky - then took to commencing her journey south…. Just herself and Jack alone, trotting on their way at a brisk, steady pace.
Sorry about the delay, rl stuff is getting in the way atm. I'll post as soon as I can!
It had been quite some time since Abigail wore her heart on her sleeve, and regardless of the gladness she felt when seeing that revitalized glimmer in Reuben’s eyes, her face remained utterly impassive. She maintained her seat on the bed unmoving, the supple definitions of her face seeming sculpture-like as only her eyes followed Rueben’s path. He was, after all, no threat to her. The well-known stories of his past, his respectable reputation and present conversation included, warranted no need for further caution, at least not in… certain regards.
Reuben, however, was still a man, and Abigail hadn’t allowed a man to touch her for coming on many months now. The last man to try and go taking her by the hand had ended up in the shallowest of graves. It was natural for a young lady to crave contact with the opposite of genders from time to time, but the condition of her heart, so be it her disdain toward men, had managed to abstain of such cravings. Nevertheless, she did at this time feel the necessity, or be it the obligation, to meet with Reuben’s deal-closing gesture. He couldn’t have known that by doing something so simple as shaking his hand would make this sole occasion whereof she had any variety of contact with a man, since making the acquaintance of Jacob Manning and his boys.
For the first time since he entered her room, Colt Clementine’s eyes dropped from contact with Reuben’s and fell upon the grizzly extension of his paw. There they remained, staring as if she were looking upon a foreboding darkness. Her cute little button-nose nostrils flared along with her eyes, the sound of her teeth grinding clearly heard as she remembered to breathe. Some sufferable moments later, she forced herself to move, extending her reach to his.
The firm heat of his grasp enclosed her own small hand like a glove. She froze, captured by the callused folds and sweaty textures of his grip. Her body shuttered at his touch. A sharp pain stabbed her heart. She felt the warmth of her blood rush her face. Prickles gamboled on her cheeks. The creeping of non-existent fingertips made their way down to the small of her back, causing her to shift like someone had given her an unwelcome tickle. Her facade had been compromised – the realization of which crafted a cooling flush of relief to then come over her, and in that instant, somehow, her power had been enforced. Her eyes, detached of emotion once more, shot back up to meet Reuben’s as she gave his large hand a firm shake.
At the appropriate timing, she pulled away, yet not abruptly so. She found herself unexpectedly savoring the contact. Her soft, delicate touch danced awkwardly over the contours of his palm and down the length of his fingers as she slowly pulled free of his grip, and then sat herself back against the wall with perceptual ease.
“No need to ru -” She slapped her mouth shut mid-sentence, acknowledging the fact that her voice had the trembles, and took a few shallow, calming breaths before continuing with her prior, unfettered tone. “No need to rush. We’ll be head'n out at dawn, so I’ll be expecting you’d be take’n some precious time with them whores and getting yourself some shuteye before we depart.”
She gracefully returned the Colt to the platform of her thigh while using her other hand to brush back a fall of hair behind her ear. It was so, her hardened disposition and manner of speaking may have given some folk the false impression she was older than she actually was, even to the point of eluding their visual perceptions - but for anyone absent the knowledge of said applications, the silk of her skin, the absence of blemish, the largish of her eyes, and the curved softness of her jawline had no way of establishing her appearance a day over fifteen. By strictly all visual and thus deceptive accounts, Colt Clementine was the sweetest little thing to be viewing.
“I have no intention of shirk’n payment for any services rendered. I ain’t expect’n any man to make his mark in my life for pure satisfaction of do’n a just deed for a tender little filly. So don’t you worry none at all about your worldly treasures, you’ll be no less than well compensated for your talents and time. My word is my honor, secure as houses on stone.”
She gives Ruben a deliberate looking up and down, narrowing one eye with some finalizing scrutiny.
“And just one last thing….” She smiles. This act was unlike her prior effort, and could have been coveted as the most attractive gift in all of God’s grand creation. It was enough for a eunuch to feel the lure of. “Welcome back to the living, Mr. Luckshot.”
While her smile ran away, a short wave of her Colt turns Reuben’s attention toward the exit.
“Be sure to close the door on your way out.”
Reuben, however, was still a man, and Abigail hadn’t allowed a man to touch her for coming on many months now. The last man to try and go taking her by the hand had ended up in the shallowest of graves. It was natural for a young lady to crave contact with the opposite of genders from time to time, but the condition of her heart, so be it her disdain toward men, had managed to abstain of such cravings. Nevertheless, she did at this time feel the necessity, or be it the obligation, to meet with Reuben’s deal-closing gesture. He couldn’t have known that by doing something so simple as shaking his hand would make this sole occasion whereof she had any variety of contact with a man, since making the acquaintance of Jacob Manning and his boys.
For the first time since he entered her room, Colt Clementine’s eyes dropped from contact with Reuben’s and fell upon the grizzly extension of his paw. There they remained, staring as if she were looking upon a foreboding darkness. Her cute little button-nose nostrils flared along with her eyes, the sound of her teeth grinding clearly heard as she remembered to breathe. Some sufferable moments later, she forced herself to move, extending her reach to his.
The firm heat of his grasp enclosed her own small hand like a glove. She froze, captured by the callused folds and sweaty textures of his grip. Her body shuttered at his touch. A sharp pain stabbed her heart. She felt the warmth of her blood rush her face. Prickles gamboled on her cheeks. The creeping of non-existent fingertips made their way down to the small of her back, causing her to shift like someone had given her an unwelcome tickle. Her facade had been compromised – the realization of which crafted a cooling flush of relief to then come over her, and in that instant, somehow, her power had been enforced. Her eyes, detached of emotion once more, shot back up to meet Reuben’s as she gave his large hand a firm shake.
At the appropriate timing, she pulled away, yet not abruptly so. She found herself unexpectedly savoring the contact. Her soft, delicate touch danced awkwardly over the contours of his palm and down the length of his fingers as she slowly pulled free of his grip, and then sat herself back against the wall with perceptual ease.
“No need to ru -” She slapped her mouth shut mid-sentence, acknowledging the fact that her voice had the trembles, and took a few shallow, calming breaths before continuing with her prior, unfettered tone. “No need to rush. We’ll be head'n out at dawn, so I’ll be expecting you’d be take’n some precious time with them whores and getting yourself some shuteye before we depart.”
She gracefully returned the Colt to the platform of her thigh while using her other hand to brush back a fall of hair behind her ear. It was so, her hardened disposition and manner of speaking may have given some folk the false impression she was older than she actually was, even to the point of eluding their visual perceptions - but for anyone absent the knowledge of said applications, the silk of her skin, the absence of blemish, the largish of her eyes, and the curved softness of her jawline had no way of establishing her appearance a day over fifteen. By strictly all visual and thus deceptive accounts, Colt Clementine was the sweetest little thing to be viewing.
“I have no intention of shirk’n payment for any services rendered. I ain’t expect’n any man to make his mark in my life for pure satisfaction of do’n a just deed for a tender little filly. So don’t you worry none at all about your worldly treasures, you’ll be no less than well compensated for your talents and time. My word is my honor, secure as houses on stone.”
She gives Ruben a deliberate looking up and down, narrowing one eye with some finalizing scrutiny.
“And just one last thing….” She smiles. This act was unlike her prior effort, and could have been coveted as the most attractive gift in all of God’s grand creation. It was enough for a eunuch to feel the lure of. “Welcome back to the living, Mr. Luckshot.”
While her smile ran away, a short wave of her Colt turns Reuben’s attention toward the exit.
“Be sure to close the door on your way out.”
Yay! Colt Clementine has herself a companion! You broadened Reuben's personality well. Even reminded me to add a little detail to Colt's appearance over the next few posts. Really excellent work there!
Thank you so much! Flattery will get you everywhere ;3 I'm really glad you're enjoying it all.
Looking forward to seeing what Reuben has to say! :)
Looking forward to seeing what Reuben has to say! :)
Abigail had the bottle gripped snug to the contour of her crotch, keeping the Colt aimed steady and following the backward path of the man until he was seated. At that point she lowered the gun back down, resting it on her thigh once more, though the barrel didn't cease to be directed at him. She held her peace, allowing him to finish his delivery without word or even the slightest hint of emotional expression that might interfere with his flow of reasoning.
She was more than well aware there wasn't a real man alive who wouldn't have felt his pride bitten by the ordering around of a little girl, no less at all for his manhood being placed into jeopardy in such a manner. It must have truly been tearing him up inside. Nevertheless, she had succeeded in doing exactly what she had intended. The Mustang had been tamed... for the moment, at least. She was furthermore somewhat inclined to honor another aspect of his self-control, or be it more a principle thing. Most men would have used her rather accurate placing of the bottle as no less than a perfect excuse to keep their eyes wondering to that region of her anatomy. He, however, did not. In fact, he had done a relatively stringent job of keeping his eyes on hers for the most part of his introduction. Still, she wasn't fully certain that he'd stop thinking with his head and start thinking with his penis if given the opportunity, especially now that his life wasn't in any immediate danger.
A little time was taken in developing a cordial response, leaving the room in relative silence for a minute or so. The only sounds to be heard were the ongoing of folk down in the saloon, blended awkwardly with moaning of the whores in nearby rooms while Abigail, keeping her unaffected stare on Reuben's eyes, started rocking that bottle back and forth real slow against her crotch.
" Your name ain't no secret," She confided, her voice mellow as a priest in a confession box; "You're reputation has managed to make the acquaintance of my ears on more than just one occasion. I suspect that's no surprise to a man of your reputation, be what I heard about ya to be true, or otherwise."
Reuben was then graced with the smallest hint of a short-lived smile, accompanied by what could have be considered a playful wink as she stilled the rocking of the bottle between her legs. Her slender fingers then slipped from its neck, raising her hand real slow to the pocket of her shirt and produced a fold of paper.
"Names Abigail Kate Clementine." Removing her other hand from the gun, she carefully began unfolded the paper as if it were some delicate, ancient parchment, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on Reuben. “As Fred or… The Ear was so deliberate to enlighten me on, I have no doubt gained my own reputation through my behavior over the prior six months. Seems folk in some places have given to calling me Colt Clementine. For the time be’n, I ain’t none too certain how that particular title sits with me, henceforth I’d appreciate it if you referred to me as Kate.”
Someone fired their pistol down in the Saloon, followed by a great deal of commotion, and Abigail waited till the commotion had settle considerably before re-commencing her speech.
"Recently I had the opportunity in obtaining the services of a certain artist to draw out this particular depiction for me. I should warn you upfront to prepare your eyes, since the face on this parchment might just reach the standard of being the ugliest son’va bitch you've ever seen in your life."
With the paper between her finger and thumb, she holds out the portrait for Reuben to take a good looking over, ensuring he had a good eyeful before commencing her tale with a sinister lowering of her voice:
"This here is Jacob Manning, also known as Nightmare Manning and the reason for my presence here today.” She pauses for just long enough to watch carefully at Reuben, see if his response was one given to familiarity of the face in question. “Jacob and his gang of equally distasteful scum arrived at my family’s home up in Nevada for no apparent reason’n and hanged my two brothers from an oak tree in our yard. They then shot a hole in my daddies head bout the size of a grapefruit. The sight of his brain kiss’n the deck of our porch, it be an image I see most ever night in my dreams. Them boys, however, didn’t stop at that. They had both me and my mother captive, make'n me watch while they strangled the life from her. I can still recall the words them boys were talk’n - making jokes and such - say’n how they better get her while her body was still warm. Needless to tell ya, that’s exactly what they did, hump’n her good and long till her body turned cold, at which point they commenced to taking their efforts out on me….”
Abigail lowered the picture of Jacob, folding it neatly to be placed back in her pocket while she continued the story.
“…If I recall correctly, there was most like nine men take’n their turns with me, and as you may have already deciphered, they weren’t none too gentle about it either. I blacked out before they were done. Don’t know how long they continued in the absence of my mind, and I don’t rightly know how long it was before I came to again, but Jacob and his boys had already gone and fled by that point. All that remained for me to see from my position on the kitchen floor was the stone cold stare of my mother’s dead eyes gaze'n back at me.”
It was then that Colt Clementine removed the Colt from her leg and placed it on the bed beside her, no longer having the barrel pointed at Reuben. She took up the bottle and had herself a good long swallow of its contents before sitting up straighter, back rested against the wall.
“Now… you informed me not just five minutes ago that vengeance, as you put it, ain’t no good thing to be pursue’n. But I do believe you may have missed the part where there is always an exception to the rule. Did you not, Luckshot?”
Leaning forward, she extended the bottle for Reuben to take off her hands.
“There’s really only one question I need be answered at this point. I see there be some Amerind blood course’n through them veins of yours, so it has me wonder’n just how good ya might be at track’n. That point out of the way, I so too am wonder’n if it be in your tendencies to oblige this young lady on her quest for retribution?”
She was more than well aware there wasn't a real man alive who wouldn't have felt his pride bitten by the ordering around of a little girl, no less at all for his manhood being placed into jeopardy in such a manner. It must have truly been tearing him up inside. Nevertheless, she had succeeded in doing exactly what she had intended. The Mustang had been tamed... for the moment, at least. She was furthermore somewhat inclined to honor another aspect of his self-control, or be it more a principle thing. Most men would have used her rather accurate placing of the bottle as no less than a perfect excuse to keep their eyes wondering to that region of her anatomy. He, however, did not. In fact, he had done a relatively stringent job of keeping his eyes on hers for the most part of his introduction. Still, she wasn't fully certain that he'd stop thinking with his head and start thinking with his penis if given the opportunity, especially now that his life wasn't in any immediate danger.
A little time was taken in developing a cordial response, leaving the room in relative silence for a minute or so. The only sounds to be heard were the ongoing of folk down in the saloon, blended awkwardly with moaning of the whores in nearby rooms while Abigail, keeping her unaffected stare on Reuben's eyes, started rocking that bottle back and forth real slow against her crotch.
" Your name ain't no secret," She confided, her voice mellow as a priest in a confession box; "You're reputation has managed to make the acquaintance of my ears on more than just one occasion. I suspect that's no surprise to a man of your reputation, be what I heard about ya to be true, or otherwise."
Reuben was then graced with the smallest hint of a short-lived smile, accompanied by what could have be considered a playful wink as she stilled the rocking of the bottle between her legs. Her slender fingers then slipped from its neck, raising her hand real slow to the pocket of her shirt and produced a fold of paper.
"Names Abigail Kate Clementine." Removing her other hand from the gun, she carefully began unfolded the paper as if it were some delicate, ancient parchment, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on Reuben. “As Fred or… The Ear was so deliberate to enlighten me on, I have no doubt gained my own reputation through my behavior over the prior six months. Seems folk in some places have given to calling me Colt Clementine. For the time be’n, I ain’t none too certain how that particular title sits with me, henceforth I’d appreciate it if you referred to me as Kate.”
Someone fired their pistol down in the Saloon, followed by a great deal of commotion, and Abigail waited till the commotion had settle considerably before re-commencing her speech.
"Recently I had the opportunity in obtaining the services of a certain artist to draw out this particular depiction for me. I should warn you upfront to prepare your eyes, since the face on this parchment might just reach the standard of being the ugliest son’va bitch you've ever seen in your life."
With the paper between her finger and thumb, she holds out the portrait for Reuben to take a good looking over, ensuring he had a good eyeful before commencing her tale with a sinister lowering of her voice:
"This here is Jacob Manning, also known as Nightmare Manning and the reason for my presence here today.” She pauses for just long enough to watch carefully at Reuben, see if his response was one given to familiarity of the face in question. “Jacob and his gang of equally distasteful scum arrived at my family’s home up in Nevada for no apparent reason’n and hanged my two brothers from an oak tree in our yard. They then shot a hole in my daddies head bout the size of a grapefruit. The sight of his brain kiss’n the deck of our porch, it be an image I see most ever night in my dreams. Them boys, however, didn’t stop at that. They had both me and my mother captive, make'n me watch while they strangled the life from her. I can still recall the words them boys were talk’n - making jokes and such - say’n how they better get her while her body was still warm. Needless to tell ya, that’s exactly what they did, hump’n her good and long till her body turned cold, at which point they commenced to taking their efforts out on me….”
Abigail lowered the picture of Jacob, folding it neatly to be placed back in her pocket while she continued the story.
“…If I recall correctly, there was most like nine men take’n their turns with me, and as you may have already deciphered, they weren’t none too gentle about it either. I blacked out before they were done. Don’t know how long they continued in the absence of my mind, and I don’t rightly know how long it was before I came to again, but Jacob and his boys had already gone and fled by that point. All that remained for me to see from my position on the kitchen floor was the stone cold stare of my mother’s dead eyes gaze'n back at me.”
It was then that Colt Clementine removed the Colt from her leg and placed it on the bed beside her, no longer having the barrel pointed at Reuben. She took up the bottle and had herself a good long swallow of its contents before sitting up straighter, back rested against the wall.
“Now… you informed me not just five minutes ago that vengeance, as you put it, ain’t no good thing to be pursue’n. But I do believe you may have missed the part where there is always an exception to the rule. Did you not, Luckshot?”
Leaning forward, she extended the bottle for Reuben to take off her hands.
“There’s really only one question I need be answered at this point. I see there be some Amerind blood course’n through them veins of yours, so it has me wonder’n just how good ya might be at track’n. That point out of the way, I so too am wonder’n if it be in your tendencies to oblige this young lady on her quest for retribution?”
I know I probably don't need to to explain this to you, since the nature of RPing speaks for itself, but some RPers can get very sensitive about their character creations. So I just felt the need to make sure you don't let Abigail's current behavior reflect my own personal views of your character. I think Reuben is great! I also think you're doing a good job btw, I honestly couldn't have hoped for a better performance from anyone :D I just hope that I'm doing alright as well!
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