rdr2-raven

[rdr2-raven]

RDR2 OC: Raven

Eagle Flies Before Dawn

☆ Raven and Eagle Flies (chosen siblings) before the events of the ‘My Last Boy’ mission ☆

Note: Noya is an oc owned by @/ephemer4l_art on tiktok!!

suggested song for listening while reading: Jigsaw Falling Into Place- Radiohead

It was a beautiful night on the Wapiti reservation. The sky was clear, and the moonlight shone through the thick branches of the trees. If one didn’t know better; they might call this night perfect. A slight breeze lifts Eagle Flies’ long hair, throwing it over his shoulder as he whittles away at an arrow head. He was sitting at the far edge of the reserve near a cliff edge, kneeling on the ground with his face to the moon.

Silent determination stains the young man’s face. This was it, for him. The night before he was to ride into battle against the American military; despite the pleas of his father. His knife scraps against the sharp stone harshly, almost like he was taking out his frustrations on anything he could.

Suddenly, he hears footsteps approach. Familiar footsteps. They were calm and calculated, and he knew who it was immediately. He knew how it would go.

Raven takes a careful seat on a log behind Eagle Flies, grunting slightly at the wound she had occurred earlier that week; one that she was too stubborn to let heal. Eagle Flies glances behind him slightly and almost immediately feels Raven’s burning gaze upon him as she rests her elbows on her knees.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Eagle Flies grunts with a cold air of defiance, “I’m not a child you need to worry about,” he states, more trying to convince himself than her.

“It ain’t like that,” Raven drawls with a sigh, her gaze unwavering.

Eagle Flies scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to work on his weapon, “Feels like it. I don’t need you to be my babysitter,” he grumbles. Raven sighs again and holds back a groan of frustration. She knew she was stubborn, but Eagle Flies was on an entirely different level. Always had been. Raven sits in silence a moment, letting the calming and familiar sounds of the forest wash over then again. She begins fiddling with her bracelet before looking down at the ground.

“Remember when we were kids, and I wanted to rob them White farmer’s chicken coup? You told me not to, that with my luck I’d get shot,” Raven says quietly, replaying the fond memory in her head. Eagle Flies pauses, looking back slightly towards her. “I remember you didn’t listen to me, and you went anyway,” he grumbles, but a hint of fondness escapes through his tone.

Raven smirks slightly, “That’s true. And you said that if I went, you were coming with me. To protect me,” she continues.

Eagle Flies turns completely around now, “You’re damn right I did,” he huffs, almost offended that Raven could possibly think he did anything else.

Raven chuckles as she begins to hear the Eagle Flies she knew all those years ago; the little rascal who would stop at nothing to protect his loved ones. “Like you predicted, the White farmer’s didn’t take too kindly to some Indian kids stealing their chickens,” Raven’s smile softens, “and they did shoot at us. But you saved me, just like you promised.”

Eagle Flies nods, confused as to what the point of her story was. Was it to force him to think of the good times? Of the past? Of the brother he lost, and the sister he gained? Eagle Flies’ gaze shifted to each one of her light eyes, looking for meaning.

“And now,” Raven sighs, her once soft smile faltering, “you know I’d do the same for you, brother.”

Eagle Flies’ eyes widen. There it was; the meaning. He could start to see the nervous beads of sweat on her forehead, her grip on her jeans, the shaking of her leg. “Raven—“ Eagle Flies begins.

“This—“ Raven cuts him off, her once calm demeanour shifting immediately as she sits up straight, her face clenching in a tight frown, “Please don’t do this, brother. For me, for your father, for your brother. For every Indian that died at the barrel of a White gun. Please, listen!” Raven begs, desperation evident in her voice. She begins to shake, clearly holding back a wave of tears in her eyes.

Eagle Flies is taken aback by this, his protectiveness almost immediately forcing him to react. But, he resists. He tries to harden his gaze, but seeing his younger sister beg and and plead hurt him more than he’d like to admit. He forces a cold stare, “Not everything can be achieved without pain or sacrifice, Raven.”

Raven shakes her head, taken over my emotion. She was usually the one who was calm, the one who thought quickly on her feet and could fight her way out of any situation. But now? She was just a girl again. A girl begging for her brother to stay. “This is not a sacrifice I’m willing to make!” She pleads, her steady voice breaking as her harsh finger points into her chest.

Eagle Flies has to look away from her. The pain evident in her unusually small voice is too much for him. It reminds him of when she first came to the Wapiti when she was 15. Scarred, beaten, bruised and scared. He vowed to protect her from then on. And yet, here he was, causing her pain. He looks to the ground, “You don’t get a say in this choice,” he says lowly, his cold gaze wavering.

Raven stands up, her desperation taking over her instincts. “W-what about Noya, huh? Your love? What about her?” Raven pleads like a lawyer making a case. She walks in front of Eagle Flies, forcing his gaze back to her. Eagle Flies’ breath catches on his throat.

Eagle Flies takes a moment to process Raven’s plea. “Noya…” he grunts, shaking his head. He tries to grasp at words to say, but there was none. He stands up from his kneeling, almost immediately towering over Raven before taking a few steps back from the cliff edge. “She…she will understand.”

Raven scoffs angrily, immediately grabbing his arm as he began to step away. “She just lost her damn father in Saint Denis, Eagle Flies!” She growls angrily, “And what if she loses you too, would she ‘understand’ then?!” Raven spits, her nails desperately digging into the fabric of his shirt.

Eagle Flies’ heart aches at that. He knows it is true, that putting his lover through all of this wasn’t fair. But to him, he was fighting for her. He was fighting for every Indian who was ever hurt by the military. Noya lost her family to their violence. This was for her, too.

Eagle Flies sighs, almost a defeated sigh, “I can’t just sit around and do nothing, sister,” he says quietly, his voice being drowned out by the birds and crickets. “I ain’t telling you to idle, I’m tellin’ you not to run right into a death trap!” Raven’s pleas cut through Eagle Flies’ cold demeanour finally, and his expression shifts to a softer, kinder one as he looks down upon her.

Raven looks up to meet his gaze as he stays silent. A glimpse of hope can be seen in her blue eyes, as she senses she has finally made some progress. Hope lingers in her grasp and in her stare as she reads him like an open book, her she always does. Suddenly, his expression shifts again. A frown and an emotionless stare falls back upon his stoic face.

“I’m not a child! I can make my own decisions, Mae!” He all but yells, shoving Raven’s arm off of him.

Any hope Raven held in her heart dissolved immediately, replaced by an ever-consuming dark hole of dread in her chest. His look, his attitude, his words. If Raven, his closest confidant could not convince him, nothing could.

Nothing could.

No one used Raven’s real name. Hell, only a handful even knew it. When she heard Eagle Flies use that name for her, with that anger, she knew she was losing. Her brother was slipping farther and farther away from her grasp, and she was running out of options.

Raven let out a sharp exhale of surprise, wincing slightly at her injury. “Eagle—“ she pleads desperately, gripping her side, “I-I can’t—“ her voice cracks as she breaths heavily, adrenaline and the will to survive coursing through her veins. “Eagle Flies. You don’t have guns, you don’t have numbers. You DON’T have an advantage here. They’ll fuckin’ kill you, they’ll kill all of us, and they won’t lose a damn wink of sleep over it!” Raven spews through clenched teeth, again walking in the way of Eagle Flies’ path. This was her last ditch attempt. Her everything. And she knew she was the only thing between her brother and certain death.

“Your place is here. It’s here. With Noya. With your father. With your people. With me!” Raven cries, stinging tears falling down her pale cheeks as she desperately reaches for her brother, like a scared baby. Raven’s heart broke more with every passing second, her desperation growing. She could barely breath, and yet, none of that was her concern.

Eagle Flies can’t bare it any longer. All the pain on Raven’s face was too much for him. He tries to take a breath, but it seems impossible at this moment. “Raven, please,” he says gruffly, a hint of familial love in his voice.

“Dutch is like family. He has my back,” Eagle Flies says, more to himself than to Raven. That shocks her, and her eyes widen. “I’m going,” Eagle Flies says with a hint of finality. Raven’s heart shatters into a million pieces as Eagle Flies begins to walk away, and any sane person would have given up now, but not Raven. She couldn’t lose her brother too.

“Oh, he’s your family?” She hisses, tears still falling down her cheeks. She grabs his arm forcefully, turning him around to him face with a scowl on her face. “No, I’m your family,” she says, clutching the top of her undershirt harshly in her hands. Her throat was burning, her eyes strained, and yet, Eagle Flies can not look at her. Even the sound of her breaking voice sent him into a dreadful spiral. He knows, deep down, she’s right. “Please don’t go,” Raven’s voice was so quiet it could barely be heard, her hands gripping her brother’s arm desperately, like if she let up, he would disappear in front of her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Raven,” Eagle Flies says in a heartbreaking, loving tone, picking up and gently holding Raven’s hand from his arm a moment before looking into her blue eyes. His looks conveyed it all. The love for his sister, all the memories, all the time spent together. Their adventures as kids, their separation, their reunion. And now, their goodbye. Eagle Flies began to walk into the dark forests.

Raven was completely stunned. Her exhausted and trembling body falls to the dirt as she realizes that no matter what she does, she could not save him now. As she watches his tall silhouette disappear into the dark forest trail, she can do nothing but sob into her hands.

[rdr2-raven]

RDR2 OC: Raven

Raven’s Symbolism

Purple bandana/associated colour:

In RDR2 (or generally in art), the colour blue represents the ‘good’ (Hosea, High Honour Arthur, etc.). and red represents the ‘bad’ (Dutch, Micah, etc.). Raven’s purple associated colour represents the mix of both and how she sees herself. She’s not either; she’s a mix of both. She fights for good and justice with bad actions. Purple also represents wealth, as it used to be extremely expensive to dye. By 1899, it was not expensive due to rising industrialization. So, the purple bandana represents her father’s middle-class former life, and also represents him and his family’s fall from that grace.

Glasses:

Raven’s glasses represent perspective, and how hers is different than everyone else around her. She is a child of two worlds, and her point of view shows that. She sees things clearer than others, as she sees through the money, the selfishness, and the abstract horror of it all. While the glasses are her POV, they are also her shield between her and the real world. The glasses are not her real eyes, but ones she puts on to function. As is her morals and feelings, which are things she leans on to not feel her own crushing emotions. Rains Falls was the one to notice her terrible vision at 15, so her glasses also symbolizes her relationship with Rains Falls.

Mouth scar:

Her scar was given to her by her father with a hunting knife. Although the scar could have healed just fine, she scraped and picked at it and didn’t let it heal. She thought she deserved it for not being good enough for her parents, for being born at all. Her scar represents all her internal self-hatred and shame. She believes that scar makes her entirely ugly and terrible to look at, just like her mother always told her. The scar also represents her failure to comply with the feminine standards women had in 1899, which she also thought made her unlovable.

Muscular/chubby build:

Raven has been fending for herself for years, even before running away. Both her parents are tall and had wide frames, so it was already destined for her. The years of fighting for survival made it so she packed on muscle and kept it well. It represents her strength and endurance. Her chubbiness is a huge part of who she is. It represents her softness and her femininity. Even with all this muscle, and all these scars, she still has soft and comforting flesh. Her empathy shines through her appearance, even if she doesn’t like it.

Black hair:

Raven’s black hair is one of the only visible traits she got from her mom; and it also the feature that gained her the nickname Raven in the first place. She leaves it in quite a choppy, almost unruly cut because she cuts it herself. Raven knows her traditions. But if she cut off all her hair every time she faced a loss, she’d be continuously bald. She cuts off a chunk or strand every time she loses someone, which leads to her hair being layered, but long.

Hat:

While she doesn’t wear it all the time, Raven’s hat and clothes mean a lot to her. She is very sentimental and emotional, so everything she owns means something. Her hat in particular. Her hat holds Eagle Flies’ eagle feather she was gifted, as well as a Raven feather she found while leaving the Wapiti in 1895. She thought it as a symbol to keep the playful nickname she was given, and that feather represents her transformation from a hurt child to a cold hearted adult. The band around her had is either her own bone choker or a beaded wrap, both made by her and her mom. The hat itself was stolen off one of Raven’s first bounties.

[rdr2-raven]

RDR2 OC:

A Night in Clemen’s Point

OC x Charles Smith

It was a quiet night in Clemen’s point, and the camp was rather calm for once. Dutch’s plans were being set in motion, and Arthur was off playing sheriff. The sound of Javier’s low guitar echoed throughout the new campsite, bringing a bit of life to the scene. Lenny and Sean were sitting with Raven, and one of them passes her another bottle.

It was obvious to Charles that Raven didn’t like the taste. She could barely keep her face from scrunching up every time she drank from it, but that didn’t stop her. No, tonight, there was something she was running from. Or someone.

Raven chuckles a distinctive low chuckle. To the boys she was sitting with, she seems to be happy. Charles thinks differently, however, as he notices the small curving of her eyebrow; a tell she did when she was anxious. Soon enough, Lenny and Sean headed off into the darkness, laughing and gigging their way back to their respective camps.

Charles pushes himself off the wagon in which he was leaning on, making his way towards the now lonely Raven. From where Charles could see, her face has fallen. A look that she only has when she knows she’s alone; but not this time. She grabs a piece of crumpled paper from her satchel, looking at it for only a moment before loosely throwing it towards the fire. Her pitch, however, is weakened by her half-drunk state.

“What’s that?” Charles asks softly, walking up to the fire where Raven is sitting. Raven, slightly startled, clears her throat, “Something I wrote.”

Charles immediately feels uneasy. He can tell she isn’t saying the whole truth, and of course he did. He could read her like a book.

Charles lunges down for the paper, quickly snatching it from the edge of the fire. It was barely singed. Raven’s eyes immediately widen in horror as he tries to stand, “wait, Charles!”

Raven stumbles slightly, her balance off. She lands back down on the log bench with a huff and looks up at Charles with a pleading, almost desperate, look. “Please, Charles—“ she mumbles.

Charles glances down at the letter, his eyes squinting in the firelight to read it. And then, he does:

Charles is shocked. His eyes widen with every passing word, and hear immediately rises to his cheeks. He can feel his heart quicken and his hands shake slightly. He swallows hard, running a calloused hand over the singed letter; almost to check if it is real or not.

Raven sits in an anxious silence. Even in her drunken state, she feels the overwhelming sense of shame and embarrassment. It was written clear on her soft face; he was not supposed to read this.

Charles huffs in disbelief. He can’t believe that the girl he has secretly admired for months now has felt the same. Part of him felt like a fool, but on the other part of him felt like the luckiest man alive.

He glances down to Raven, immediately taking in her shameful and anxious face, her pretty face scrunched in a sad look of despair. Charles eyes widen, “oh Raven,” he says softly, leaning down in front of her so he can properly look into her watery blue eyes.

“Charles, I—“ Raven begins to stutter, her scarred hands desperately grasping at the fabric of her jeans. Charles sees her leg shaking, and put a gentle hand over it. “Raven,” he says softly again, with a little more force.

“I feel the same.” He says lowly, looking up at her.

Raven sits, completely stunned. Her pale face immediately turns a deep red in the firelight as she tries to find words. “Th—no, you must be—“ She stutters.

“I do, Raven, I—“ Charles mutters softly, his grip on her leg tightening.

Charles stands up and sits next to the half-drunk Raven, their legs pressing together on the wooden log they sat on. The crinkling of the firelight and soft sounds of the guitar fill the night, as the two sit, gazing at each other and the light in front of them. Eventually, stunned silence turned to murmurs. Murmurs of the past, the present, the future. The two talked for what seemed like days, but somehow only seconds at the same time.

[rdr2-raven]

RDR2 OCs:

How Raven and Victor Met

May 1897, Armadillo, New Austin, USA

The saloon in Armadillo was quiet, as it usually was. A western town like this attracted trouble; and the townspeople knew it. So when a young outlaw and a high-rolling gambler traveled into the saloon, it was no surprise to the bartender. 

The golden sun was setting over the dusty plains as the young outlaw took her seat. She looked tired, and hungry. A black hat with an eagle feather rested atop her unruly jet-black hair, and her blue-grey eyes glanced down at the lonely whiskey shot in front of her.

A piano tune was played over the quiet saloon, which masked the unease of the guests as each one began to notice exactly who had sat at the bar. The dark red blood on her chaps made it even more clear who this outlaw was; Raven. A truly ruthless and unpredictable gunslinger who had made quite a name for herself in the short time she terrorized the West. By the look of her, it seemed as though Lady Luck had finally turned on her. Raven glanced around the bar, taking in all the fearful glances of people who, more than likely, saw her wanted poster on the way in. 

Raven dragged the whiskey glass to her lips and relished in the feeling of the alcohol on her throat. She coughed, running a gloved hand over her scarred mouth. Raven noticed the silence of the guests, and she raised an eyebrow as she looked behind her towards their frightened faces. She let out a huff, rolled her eyes, and turned back to the bartender. “Is it usually so quiet in this damn place?” She grumbled, taking another slow sip. The bartender shook his head quickly, “Oh, um, no, ma’am,” the bartender cleared his throat nervously and rubbed the already clean glass in his hands. 

Raven scoffed and shook her head, her gaze hidden by the brim of her dark hat. 

The swinging doors of the saloon cracked open suddenly, which let in a small stream of orange light. A well-dressed, silver cladded tall gentlemen walked confidentially over to the bar, where he toke a stand with a cunning smile. The man wore a red and black vest with a black overcoat. With just a glance it was easy to tell this traveler was wealthy, and yet, here they stood. 

“One serving of salt pork and beans, mon ami. Oh, and a whiskey,” the gentleman said with an accent and a  smirk. The bartender nodded, “I’ll get that for ya.”

Raven slumped even more onto the counter, the fabric of her vest and white collar shirt sticking to both her and the table from exhaustion. The gentlemen glanced out out of his peripheral at the outlaw, and without a reaction, recognized just who she was. The gentlemen’s smirk seemed to grow as the bartender arrived with a plate of classic, although terrible, frontier food. “Merci,” the gentlemen smiles.

Raven’s stomach growled, and she huffed in anger. “I don’t assume y’all serve free meals here?” She grumbled, almost doubled over on the bar, The bartender, still nervous, shook his head. “I’m sorry—no, ma’am.”

“Goddamnit,” Raven muttered to herself. She looked defeated, like a woman who didn’t know if she would survive to her next meal. The seated gentleman’s smirk only widened, as he immediately spoke up, “could I get a second order of this for my friend here? It’ll be on me,” he said with a sly wink. 

The bartender was confused for a split second, before nodding and walking to grab it. Raven immediately lifted her tired head, her cloudy eyes immediately locking with the gentleman’s. She, ever observant, quickly scanned over the man’s look; his clothes, shoes, jewelry and demeanour. It was clear to Raven he was a gambler; and a good one. Raven couldn’t know exactly why he would do such a thing for her, but nonetheless, she had no choice but to accept the man’s generosity. 

“…Why?” Raven asked with a raspy tone. The man shrugged, the small smirk never leaving his lips, “You looked hungry.”

Raven tried her best to hold back an angry scowl. She hated being read like that, and hated having people be kind to her. She knew there must be something more to this than simple kindness. But, for the moment, she accepted it. 

The bartender brought her the food, and she immediately began to scarf down the meat as soon as she could. She would never admit it, but she hadn’t eaten in days. The man held back a curt chuckle as he witnessed the notorious outlaw eat food in such a way. 

The pair ate in silence as Raven swallowed food quickly. After she was done, she drank the last of her whisky with a satisfied huff. “Feeling better?” The gentleman asked, a slight hint of genuine care in his voice. Raven nodded and wiped her mouth. “Yeah…thank you,” she hesitated. Gratitude was not something that came easy to her. 

“The names Victor. Victor Valencour,” the man outstretched a jewellery-clad hand out towards Raven to shake her hand. After a moment of hesitation, she shook it. 

“Valencour,” Raven repeated, before she hesitated with her own name. “…I’m Raven,” she said finally, almost lowly. Victor raised a brow, “Raven, huh? I don’t suppose that’s your god-given name, is it?” Victor smirked, obviously knowing of her crimes, and her alias. “That’s right,” Raven drawled, “ain’t anyone called me anything else in a long time.” 

Victor nodded slowly, taking a swig of his whiskey. He glanced toward the young outlaw before letting a beat of suspenseful silence pass. “You a gunslinger?” Victor whispered with a noticeable accent as he leaned in closer to Raven’s ear. “Who’s askin’?” Raven growled lowly, her own voice hushed intimidatingly. Victor smirked and chuckled softly, “a man who could benefit from your company, chérie.”

Raven raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled, “You ain’t a bounty hunter, are ya?”

Victor shook his head immediately as he placed his whiskey down on the bar, “No, no, no. Quite the opposite. I’m somewhat of an…entrepreneur. Some may call me a high roller,” Victor shrugged. “I like to gamble—and I love to win,” Victor continued slyly. 

Raven nodded slowly. “And what does that gotta do with me?” She frowned. 

“I hear you like to go after bad men. Well, I do too,” Victor sipped his whiskey again. “Bad and stupid men, mon ami. That is my speciality,” he chuckled dryly. “And I will admit that my hobby has gotten me into a bit of…trouble, recently.”

Raven gulped down the last of her second whiskey before she wiped her mouth again, “what kinda trouble?”

Victor sighed, “the kind which only bullets can fix. And, as you can see, I am not equipped for such tasks.”

Raven nodded again with a grunt of understanding. This stranger was not here to kill her, but to hire her to kill. She thought for a moment as she stared at the well-dressed stranger. Raven was good at reading others, that is how she survived so long in this cruel world. From what she could see, this man was telling the truth. When Raven observed Victor, he seemed to do the exact thing back, but with a confident smirk. 

“I ain’t your usual outlaw,” Raven said finally, “I won’t hurt innocents. Or women or children,” Raven grunted. Victor scoffed, “I’m well aware. And neither do I.”

Victor sighed, a small bit of his confident persona fell slightly, almost calculatingly so. “I grew up in the slums of Saint Denis, living off begging and church charity.  I don’t kick people when they are down,” he said with almost a distain, his confident demeanour slipping almost out of his grasp. Raven could note the tight grip on the almost empty whiskey glass Victor had, and the slight dimple that appeared on his left cheek. It was obvious there was more to that story.

“I like to do ‘business’ with the wealthy, anyway. Them people always underestimate someone like me,” Victor smirked, his confidence returning almost immediately like nothing was ever said. 

Raven nodded with a relating huff, “Yeah, okay.”

“And you, mon ami, are very…good at what you do,” Victor said vaguely. Raven nodded in agreement. “But, obviously, you are in need of some money,” Victor said, almost carefully.

Raven would usually be offended by a comment such as this, but at the moment she was too down on her luck and too hungry to disagree. “Maybe,” she grumbled unhappily.

“Well, lucky for you, I have a lot to spare,” Victor smirked, the dimple on his cheek becoming prominent and his dark brown eyes glistened with mischief. 

“So…you want me to ride with you? To do your dirty work?” Raven raised a brow again, her voice full of skepticism. “In exchange for a piece of my earnings, of course,” Victor nodded. 

Raven paused a moment. She worked alone. She knew that no one was really to be trusted in the West, and that everyone had only their own interests at heart. Hell, she only did too. Raven’s mind spun as she tried to come up with an answer, but the answer was clear. The great and notorious ‘Raven’ was half starving to death, and she had no option. 

“Fine.” She said finally, a low snarl in her deep voice. 

“merveilleuse!” Victor smirked, a happy, or relieved look on his face. Something about his expression was off to Raven; almost like he needed this partnership just as much as she did. 

“Another round of whiskey, on me!” Victor laughed shortly as he shouted at the bartender. Raven couldn’t help but smirk, her face half hidden by the brim of her hat. 

The bartender filled the pair’s glasses again, and Victor immediately picked up his glass in his silver-studded fingers, “cheers, chérie!”

Raven smirked slightly before clinking her glass against his.

“Cheers.”

[rdr2-raven]

Hey everyone! Welcome to my new tumblr! I made this because there were a few ideas I had and wanted to do that required a lot of writing, and I thought this would be a good way to do that AND showcase Raven! 🐦‍⬛ I’ll have a few writing posts up soon, so stay tuned!