2.0.2 UNTIL WE COLLAPSE // Sympathy
Beasts of Beyond

Private UNTIL WE COLLAPSE // Sympathy

Offline oblivion

  • Prodigy
  • icon by chikai
  • 401
  • awards This member has participated in the 2018 site-wide Halloween event!
    • View Profile
    • Awards
UNTIL WE COLLAPSE // Sympathy
« on: April 18, 2019, 11:58:52 PM »
YOUR HEART HAS BROUGHT YOU TO THIS LAND —// A TRIGGER WARNING TO OUTSIXE READERS: This thread will deal with death, as well as mental  illness, child abuse, and crimes such as robbery. If these disturb, please do not read!
@Sympathy @A. MORGAN

Kicking in the spurs of Elvira, her trusted black and white American Painted Horse (well, it was her grandfather's, but he didn't deserve a horse), Amelia rushes through the trees. When the horse naturally begins to tire, she leans down and whispers, "Only a little bit further, Elvira. Then it'll all be okay." Her voice is calm, kind, and gentle. Blue eyes drift down the horse, making sure she was clean and not too badly injured.

Amelia herself was another story. Her grandfather's abuse escalated past verbal. So far past that. Instead of the insults about her supposed father -- his line of business, his destiny, his calling-- whatever one wanted to call it, he saw her father in the young girl. Her brown hair and blue eyes... She wasn't more than thirteen when her grandfather pinned her down, attacked her with fists and legs and broken bottles.  His voice rose. He was angry.

"You're just like your good for nothing father!" He had hissed at her, holding her by the collar of her shirt. His breath was sour with the scent of alcohol, and that's when she remembered to be scared. That didn't stop her from back talking.

"Yeah? Maybe I want to be like him! He'd be a better role model than you!" She replies. His eyes unfocused, and blankness covered his face. He let's go of his own grandchild, a turbulent universe in his expression.

"Grandpa? What're you doing?" Amelia asks. He walks over to where he has stored some brass knuckles. "Y-you don't need those!" She calls out. When he walks over again, she hurriedly Scott's under a table.

At first, he rams the brass knuckles into the table, over and over. Splinters of wood come flying off. Amelia's eyes widen and she goes pale grasping onto the table. Her grandfather seemed to be in some sort of trance, and soon enough, his blows focused on what he could attack-- her face, her arms. The pain rushed through, no broken skin, but enough to cause bruises. It almost felt burning and stinging and...

His eyes snapped back into focus. They were no longer glazed over, and her grandfather was slowly regaining his color. "Amelia?" He asks, looking at the girl, who was obviously scared.

She tried to remind herself that it was okay. That he didn't mean for this to happen. He was just angry. "Amelia? Sweethear, don't look like that. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. You know I love you. I don't wanna see you turn out as a failure like your father, that's all." His voice was sickly sweet. "Amelia? Nothing happened. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. You know I love you. I love you more than life. You know I wouldn't hurt you. I would never."

Without a word, she gets up. He stretches his arms out for an embrace. Amelia looks at him, face hot with tears before running out the door. She gets on a horse, and runs off, hearing the cries of her grandfather in the distance.


That night, his anger felt like gravity, but she escaped the grasp. It'd only been a couple of days. She was now on the hunt for her father, hoping he'd take her in. Do something. She notices a broken tree and steers her horse in that direction. "Good job, Elvira," she says, patting her horse gently.

She stops when she hears a call, of an older man. "Who is it?!" His voice is not angry, though it sounds like a warning and commanding. She hitches Elvira to a nearby tree, getting off of her and looking for the source of the voice.

Looking around, she begins. "My name is Amelia-" she was cut off, being barreled into by Bill. His eyes held suspicion, and she took a mental note of what he looks like. He grabs her by the shoulder and yanks her up.

"O'Driscoll!" He screamed, shaking Amelia harshly. "O'Driscoll! O'Driscoll!" His voice was booming, as loud as thunder as he grabs Amelia further, shoving her into camp and pointing his gun at her. Her stares through the scope.

This could have gone infinitely better, Amelia thinks. She backs away as the veteran keeps screaming their enemies' name over and over. O'Driscoll? Were they another group? Sounded Irish. Amelia tries to shush him but he keeps going. Finally, she looks up and yells, "I'm not Irish and I'm what? Thirteen! Quiet down with that!"

He keeps screaming anyway at the top of his lungs. He seems very, very, angry. "You're just a Dirty O'Driscoll!"
— WHERE YOUR LOVE IS STRONG AND BOLDER

« Last Edit: April 19, 2019, 12:00:10 AM by muddymutt »

Offline A. MORGAN

  • New Blood
  • COWPOKE
  • 37
    • View Profile
    • Awards
Re: UNTIL WE COLLAPSE // Sympathy
« Reply #1 on: April 19, 2019, 08:07:29 PM »
RIDE TILL I CANT NO MORE
ARTHUR MORGAN
Arthur Morgan was ashamed to say that he ran away when things got too hot to handle. When jobs got to be too much. When he felt himself getting too attached. His only exception was the fathers he found in Dutch Van der Linde and Hosea Matthews, and about the most dysfunctional functional family they built out of vagabonds and ruffians. His heart and life belonged to them and them only. He only wavered the day he found out Mary Linton was pregnant via a lavender scented letter sitting prettily on the crate next to his bedside. Years of asking her to marry him and time and time again she had declined. Even with a baby now added into the mix, she still refused to budge despite his insistence. He could leave all of this behind. They could be happy. 'Daddy would never approve, Arthur.' 'You'll never change. We both know this.' He knows this. He knows he could never leave the gang, but it doesn't lift the dull ache of loss that settles in his chest. As sweet as he was on Ms. Linton, he knows she would never be his. And for years the most he did was send any money he could to the family. As tainted as it was, he would only hope they'd accept what little he could offer.

And it would stay this way. And Arthur would learn what little he could about his daughter that Mary would write to him about. Granted it wasn't much, but it was still something. He slipped into a comfortable live of outlawing and sending money and waiting for letters. So. Much. Waiting. It was agonizing, but the bustle of bank robberies and train heists kept his mind distracted on other things. He would never admit that once or twice he'd forgotten about his stranger family, oblivious to their existence until another lavender letter showed up at his bedside.

Today would take a turn. Whether for better or for worse he didn't know. But he was in for the ride of his life.

Arthur had been propped against a tree, overlooking the plains from their camp in Horseshoe Overlook and sipping coffee from his tin. It was a peaceful morning. Just earlier he'd been having a quiet chat with Charles and watching the sunrise. Even once the bustle of the morning routine began, there was an odd peace about it that Arthur relished in. He wouldn't have thought anything of Bill Williamson's yelling until the word O'Driscoll was thrown. The man tensed, tossing what little contents in his tin remained and shoved it in his bag, replacing it with a revolver as quick as a flash. He turned and noticed that quite the crowd was forming around the "O'Driscoll". Approaching, he took notice of Dutch who had stepped forward from the crowd.

--

Dutch eyed the young girl curiously, yelling at Bill to "Shut the hell up for a moment." while he looked her over. She was young and certainly didn't sound like an O'Driscoll. Certainly didn't look like one either. Looked the fancy sort. A city girl. And that made his even more curious, lifting his brow in odd fascination. "Now, let's all just calm down here." he began smoothly, bending down a bit to meet her at eye level. "Hello there little miss. I sincerely apologize for my compatriot's lack of kindness. We don't normally get such ah... young visitors to our camp. You can call me Dutch." He sticks out his hand, hoping to gently take Amelia's in his and offer a gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. "To whom do I owe this unexpected visit?" he asks, offering a smile her way.

--

While this is going on, Arthur stops himself beside Tilly near the edge of the gathered faces, brows furrowed in confusion as Dutch took on a more gentle demeanor. Kindness to an O'Driscoll? Either there was a mix up or Van der Linde was going fuzzy in the head. But as things played out, it was all to quickly discovered that this was no enemy gang member, but a child that had been unfortunate enough to cross paths with them. Slowly, he inched himself forward to get a look at the intruder. He caught sight of the girl for a moment- wispy brown locks and a fire in her eyes that could melt steel. His stomach turned. He knew something was off about her but he couldn't quite place it. He sheathed his revolver, now folding his arms across his chest in confusion. He did not speak however, instead choosing to watch to see how things unfolded.
#psychosocial.
❝ NO TROPHY, NO FLOWERS, NO FLASHBULBS, NO WINE ❞
timber wolf + 3 years + @sympathy —————  he's haunted by something he cannot define

Offline oblivion

  • Prodigy
  • icon by chikai
  • 401
  • awards This member has participated in the 2018 site-wide Halloween event!
    • View Profile
    • Awards
Re: UNTIL WE COLLAPSE // Sympathy
« Reply #2 on: April 19, 2019, 08:55:04 PM »
BY ONLY A FLICKER, WE CLING TO THIS  LIFE
AMELIA MORGAN — ASPIRING OUTLAW
She never heard much about this other ragtag group, but the Van der Linde gang? Her mother would sit her near the fire, wistfully telling stories of what she heard from Arthur. They always started out good -- a gang of those who were morally gray, yes, but tended to strike back only once provoked. And if they didn't, they made damn sure they never killed anyone. However, whenever Grandpa was around, the stories seemed to twist into something evil. How she never should become like them, that it was safer with Grandpa, and since she was getting a proper education, she could be much better than her damned outlaw, yee-haw-ing father and his gang. Her Uncle, Jamie, tended not to put his two cents in but when asked, he would make up something bad about him.

However, there was something that seemed liberating about the lifestyle she heard about. Away from the law, living off the land, able to carve your own destiny -- not being stuck with the high expectations someone held for you. She could be free from her grandfather, his drunken nights, his hurt, his pain, his abuse. So, when she had enough, it made sense that she left to find her father. She just didn't expect it to end up like this, with a gun pointed at her head.

"Shut the hell up for a moment." Came another voice, once again, a man. The child notices that someone is near hear, shuffling downwards to be at her eye level. Her eyes go wide, and she scoots away as best she can, though she doesn't get very far, blocking her face with her arms. When she realizes she's read the gesture wrong, she lets out a nervous chuckle, and scoots back.When he attempts to take her hand, at first she pulls it back. He'd called for calmness -- why? So the others could see what he was gonna do? She gulps, eyes scanning everyone. She shuts her eyes, knowing that non-compliance wouldn't get her anywhere. She gently lets him take her hand in his own, and braces herself for any pain. When he doesn't do anything, she opens her eyes, and just in time sees his kind face, leaning down to offer her hand a kiss. After that is said and done, it takes her a minute to process things. "I... can call you 'Dutch'? Like.. Dutch Van der Lind-"

Williamson's voice cuts through the air again, focusing his sights more on the girl, his gun still locked on her, his hand against the trigger guard, for now. "See, Dutch! She is an O'Driscoll! Knowin' yer name like it's common knowledge!" He glares down at her, cold and demeaning. Who did this girl think she was foolin'? "'Sides, I wouldn't put it past them to pick up a little homeless girl and offer her money for findin' us." Half of him wanted to feel bad, having to take up that dreadful gang on an offer, but she was still working with their enemies.

She didn't have time to focus on her father. She didn't even notice him, her mind was a stormy sea, crashing and full of turbulent waves. She shakes her head, as if that will help clear it. Her brows furrow, briefly, but then she tries to put on a front. A sheepish smile makes its way on the girl's face as she ignores Bill, turning her attention to Dutch. If he was who she thought he was, he woulda been the leader. She tries to keep her voice calm and steady, and she tries a joke. "Well, Mister, I'd tell ya my name is Amelia Morgan, but I don't know if my father wants me to carry that name. So, I'm just Amelia."
#psychosocial.[/center
« Last Edit: April 27, 2019, 01:04:33 AM by muddymutt »

Offline A. MORGAN

  • New Blood
  • COWPOKE
  • 37
    • View Profile
    • Awards
Re: UNTIL WE COLLAPSE // Sympathy
« Reply #3 on: April 19, 2019, 11:28:26 PM »
RIDE TILL I CANT NO MORE
ARTHUR MORGAN
"Bill for the love of all that is holy, shut your yap or I'll shut it for you!" Hosea's voice rang out like a gunshot over the commotion the other outlaw was causing, stern and quite frankly done with the horsehit spewing from his mouth. Hosea didn't snap often, but his patience was wearing thin. While his caution was commendable, what on God's green Earth would they need to feel scared over a little girl? And honestly, what would they even do if she did turn out to be an O'Driscoll? Torture her? Kill her? As low as their morals are, the Van der Linde Gang weren't the sort to torture women. Maybe keep her as a prisoner of sorts to keep her from talking, but nothing in terms of physical harm. Then that would really make them no better than O'Driscolls.

Dutch, after flashing a thankful look to Hosea, turned his attention back unto Amelia. "Just "Dutch" is fine, sweetheart." he mused. What nobody was ready for however, was the name she introduced herself with. You could hear a pin drop, everyone in camp had quieted down so intensely. Ms. Grimshaw looked ready to squawk out of surprise but kept it in.

Morgan?

Arthur felt all eyes on him in less than a second. Some were knowing (he had confided in a few people of his illegitimate child.) and others were bug eyed with shock. Never had he wanted to throw himself under a moving train than in this moment. He hates the attention. He hates the mixed looks. He hates that the first time he actually sees his child- or so she claims- is when she's being flung straight into the middle of the gang. Dutch calls for everyone to give them some room, and hesitantly, the gang obliges, backing away like mice and leaving Arthur facing his- Mary's kid. He doesn't know what to do and he scratches at his arms nervously as he starts to test the name on his tongue. "Amelia... Morgan...." He pauses, brows furrowing in thought. "Gillis?" He doesn't know what to do. Should he be happy she's here? Should he send her back home? She shouldn't even be here in the first place! The outlaw's brain in a mess and it takes a firm squeeze to his shoulder by Charles to release the breath he didn't even know he was holding.
#psychosocial.
❝ NO TROPHY, NO FLOWERS, NO FLASHBULBS, NO WINE ❞
timber wolf + 3 years + @sympathy —————  he's haunted by something he cannot define

Offline oblivion

  • Prodigy
  • icon by chikai
  • 401
  • awards This member has participated in the 2018 site-wide Halloween event!
    • View Profile
    • Awards
Re: UNTIL WE COLLAPSE // Sympathy
« Reply #4 on: April 20, 2019, 12:18:28 AM »
BY ONLY A FLICKER, WE CLING TO THIS  LIFE
AMELIA MORGAN — ASPIRING OUTLAW
A visible flinch can be seen in both her and Bill. Bill lowers his gun, strapping it to his back. He mumbles something about having caution about how to trust. He glares at Hosea, his chin lifted up a bit, as if he was confident. He walks behind a bit, waiting for this to be over with.

He stops, eyes wide as that name seemed to roll so smoothly off of her tongue. He looks around and notice the other outlaws. Pearson stops cutting the meat, his knife clinking against the board. Sadie nearly drops her box.

An embarresed look immediately crosses her face. She had to admit, like her father, if given the chance she would gladly go on train tracks and wait for the next one. Half of her hoped the gang knew, and the other half feels like an idiot for introducing herself in such a manner. She would apologize later.

They were mostly staring at her father. Arthur, was his name, she thought. If she remembered correctly. When they leave the two to their own vices, she tries to smile at him. She tries to think, of something-- anything that would him not lookike the devil just sucker punched him. "Are you a Mister Arthur Morgan?" She waves, a bit shyly. She did not think that this was how it was gonna go. When he says her name -- what she wants to be her name, at least -- she nods, blue eyes holding tiny bits of hope.

"Gillis?" That question caused her to visibly cringe, as if she heard something disgusting escape his mouth. "By blood. I hate that name." That is what she settles on. Hell, being a Linton would be better. Not that disgusting name. Ever again.

"Amelia? Sweetheart, don't look like that. Nothing happened. Nothing at all." That voice plays in her head as she looks at Arthur. She doesn't see his brown hair, his blue eyes. What she does see is a pale man, his eyes unfocused, his face holding the expression of the worst news. She tries to choke something out, but no words form.  Blood rushes to her ears, her eyes widen and she tries to take in everything. Now she looked as if she'd seen a ghost. Why?

Arthur looked ready to hurt her. His friend, too. Which was exactly why she tried to find him, find someone who wouldn't do that. She shuts her eyes, tightly, and runs into the crowd of outlaws. That's when she opens her eyes, and sees Dutch. She bolts towards him, trying to cling to his clothes like a puppy dog. She shuts her eyes once more, whether she managed to cling to him or not. She didn't want more bruises... she didn't want... Her breathing speed up, and she sinks further, trying to make herself look less noticeable. "Oh God... oh God oh God... He's gonna... gonna hurt me." She manages to get words out, her eyes shutting more, if it was possible. If she did grip onto Dutch, she would try to grip tighter.
#psychosocial.

Offline A. MORGAN

  • New Blood
  • COWPOKE
  • 37
    • View Profile
    • Awards
Re: UNTIL WE COLLAPSE // Sympathy
« Reply #5 on: April 25, 2019, 08:32:28 PM »
RIDE TILL I CANT NO MORE
ARTHUR MORGAN
Amelia Gillis- no... Morgan. Amelia Morgan. He would've laughed at the thought of their shared initials if he hadn't been consumed by the wave of emotions he didn't know how to process. All too quickly he found himself picking out little details about her he hadn't given much regard to before; the way the sunlight makes her hair shine, the way her eyes spark, even the way she carried herself- it was like looking in a mirror. Almost. He was admittedly much more scrappier. To look in a mirror at his teenage self, hell he'd be covered in dirt and gunpowder, there was no doubt. Other than the fact that Amelia had been bathed more regularly that him, they weren't much different at all. There was a small part of him that was smug knowing that his kid didn't succumb to the fruity upper class lifestyle Mary had tried and failed by the looks of it brought her up in.

He was unfortunate to not have the time to even answer her questioning if he was in fact Arthur Morgan. To him it looked like her mood changed on a dime, causing him to take a step back as she regarded her grandfather with such disdain it even rivaled him. But seeing her scared of him, hurrying to shrink beside Dutch, it planted seeds of guilt in Arthur's gut. He must have done something wrong. He did do something wrong. Bringing up that man was a mistake, yes, but he wasn't ready for how badly it affected her and he didn't know what to do other than stand silent and cast Hosea a pained look.

--

Dutch peered down at the girl, offering her a small pat on the head. Hosea meanwhile, hurried on to usher the crowd to scatter. "Go on! Get back to work, the lot of you. Dutch and I will handle this." And one by one, the crowd disperses and while the tension in the air is still thick, it lightens some now that it isn't confined to one space. Dutch offers a comforting smile to Amelia. "Arthur? That big teddy bear? My dear, Mr. Morgan here wouldn't hurt a fly- let alone a sweet girl like you. 'sides, if anyone wanted to hurt you, they'd have to answer to me first. And that's a promise." he assured. "Now-" He motions Arthur over and makes a slow and gentle attempt to separate from the girl. "Why don't you two get the chance to get to know each other?"

--

Arthur takes a few steps forward, still leaving a wide enough space for Ame to breathe. His hands wring nervously, Eventually though, he greets her. "Hullo." He pauses, thinking. "I am.. um, Arthur Morgan. It's nice to finally meet you, miss." Hesitantly, he holds a calloused hand out to her and does his best to smile.
#psychosocial.
❝ NO TROPHY, NO FLOWERS, NO FLASHBULBS, NO WINE ❞
timber wolf + 3 years + @sympathy —————  he's haunted by something he cannot define

Offline oblivion

  • Prodigy
  • icon by chikai
  • 401
  • awards This member has participated in the 2018 site-wide Halloween event!
    • View Profile
    • Awards
Re: UNTIL WE COLLAPSE // Sympathy
« Reply #6 on: April 27, 2019, 01:01:27 AM »
BY ONLY A FLICKER, WE CLING TO THIS  LIFE
AMELIA MORGAN — ASPIRING OUTLAW
For a minute, a minute, and that was all, she looked at her father. Boy, he appeared rough and tumble. It looked like dirt was all over his body, maybe small bits of blood. Then she looked down again, not noticing his pained gaze. Well, some of it, since it was directed at Hosea. She decided if she didn't look at him, maybe he wouldn't do anything. But she noticed the difference in her clothes, the way she looked, too. She stares down at her clothing. Light blue shirt, black jacket, black hat, light blue flowers, it was clean. Her belt, jeans, and boots weren't too dirty, either. She looks cleaner than Arthur, with her brown hair neatly parted and laying down. She looked... a lot better than most people in this camp.

What snaps her out of her thoughts was a pat on her head. She looks up and sees Dutch, his kind face somewhat reassuring. She gently starts to let go of his clothes. She hears Hosea yell for them to start working and shes grasps it again. She looks up at the king leader, and though it feels like she's underwater, she does her best to listen.  If Arthur wanted to do anything, which hopefully he was a Teddy Bear as Dutch said, he'd have to get through him. "Okay," is the quiet reply Amelia settles on. She gently loosens her grip on the clothes she was grabbing in order to hide.

Amelia walks forward, looking down, not wanting to see her father's face. She leaves her hands at her sides, only looking up at his greeting, though she looks at his chest, not his face. "Hel-" she begins, before deciding to mimic his greeting. "Hullo. I'm Amelia. It's nice to see you in person, Mr. Morgan." She sees his hand outstretched, and flinches. After realizing she read the gesture wrong, she chuckles nervously and tries to shake his hand... with her tiny one.

Sean, the good old Irish drunk, had just gotten up and heard the news from Karen. While he did do his job, helping to make food (adding potatoes and seasoning, of course), and such, he now watched them from afar. "Oh, damn it. Now I cant seduce Artie there to give me his virginity!" The ginger-haired egoist, of course, was joking.
#psychosocial.

 

With Quick-Reply you can write a post when viewing a topic without loading a new page. You can still use bulletin board code and smileys as you would in a normal post.

Warning: this topic has not been posted in for at least 120 days.
Unless you're sure you want to reply, please consider starting a new topic.

Note: this post will not display until it's been approved by a moderator.
Name: Email:
Verification:
Type the letters shown in the picture
Listen to the letters / Request another image
Type the letters shown in the picture:


'BEASTS OF BEYOND + an ability-based animal roleplay In Dire Straits: Awoo BIANDRI: fantasy canine rpg RPGfix