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hello kit finally killed bishop and she doesn’t know what to do with her life anymore and i am very sad about it 

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scriose | irish.

the mention of a village chris knows sends his eyebrows skyward, causes something aching and familiar to coil in his chest. he doesn’t talk much of home for fear of having to admit he misses it.

         ‘ living, ’ he says. ‘ but only just. ’

        ‘ i know the feeling. ’ there’s an inside joke for the ages, eh? it aches in her chest, but at least it twists her smile in that sad kind of way you’d expect from the kind of woman he probably assumes she is. depressed at best, god knows what at worst.

    she doesn’t linger on it. instead, she introduces herself. she does not extend a hand. ‘ kit. ’ 

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hello i did not abandon this blog but i think i’m gonna..... quit using icons bc i really can’t be bothered making them lmao thanks

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@frontierbled. lyric call.

    chin up, jaw clenched. kit’s got a look of determination on her face. there might be more folks dead around here than needs be, but she ain’t the fiend they were making her out to be. ‘ i'm not sayin' that what i did was right-- but if you were me, you'd agree it was justified. ’ 

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hey, consider liking this for a lyric starter ! 

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hello, yes, anyway! here are the blogs you can for sure find me on!

balfour sutherland / our girl oc @northgrit

teddy flood / westworld @lookchivalrous

kit o’connell / weird west oc @retributior 

rab kalil / our girl @racquit 

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cursedline | earp.

poetry starters — @retributior​

               “ — if you don’t believe in god, then who are you talking to? ” nothin much accusatory in the way he says it. wyatt, he believes, but he got no faith, and that’s just as bad in most books.

        old habits die hard. kit might’ve lost her faith in the lord and all his angels-- dying, seeing the world beyond, that’s got a way of ruining some certain beliefs a woman might’ve had-- but sometimes talking helps you work things out. ain’t like skeeter’s a fair sounding board.  

        ‘ next best thing: myself. you can’t tell me you never do that. ’ 

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disaray | rafferty.

rafferty knows he could stand to uncoil some  —  awareness isn’t the issue. if he could do anything about it, he’d have done something about it. in lieu of any behavior good and healthy, he overreacts, recognizes it in hindsight, shrinks with shame.

         ‘ i’m not, really. ’ wasn’t, at least, until recently. ‘ and what’s a painter without red? ’

        ‘ one who doesn’t think he’s gone and got himself bitten every time he lets it dry on his finger, maybe? ’ she gives a shrug that suggests she doesn’t wholly care, though that’s through no fault of his. it just gets harder to give a damn, the longer you’ve been around. still, it’s nice to have a little conversation, so she asks, ‘ what were you painting? ’ 

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@rekant. call.

        ‘ they with you? ’ she frowns, nods off towards a few shady looking folks who seem to be heading this way. kit’s having a hard time telling whether or not they’re trouble. ‘ they don’t look too friendly, is all i mean. ’ 

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y’all ever think abt how kit only owns three shirts and pairs of trousers but they all look the same n she’s Always wearin her big winter coat so she pretty much just looks like she never changes her clothes 

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disaray | rafferty.

         ‘ oh, no  —  christ, i thought it was blood. ’ he scratches at the spot on his arm until it peels before licking the pad of his thumb and scrubbing it clean. he’s gone visibly shaky from his fingers up. ‘ it’s paint. ’

@retributior,  sc.

        ‘ i could’ve told you that for free. ’ people these days sure aren’t half jumpy about everything. she supposes she can’t blame them, vaguely remembers a long-off, distant time when she’d been scared too. now she’s just... ‘ you should consider using different colours if you’re that skittish. ’ 

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retributior:

uh i made a wild west tunes playlist and it’s over twelve hours long how are y’all

sorry please make that “17 and a half hours”

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chxtterly | skeeter.

          “ ain’t nothin’ gonna kill me, kit, ” he smiles, taking her hand, pulling himself back to his feet, and dusting himself off. “ no drunks, no demons, no nothin’s. you don’t gotta worry about me. thank you, though. ”

        ‘ worry is a very strong word. ’ is it him she worries about or the idea of being stuck fighting bishop all by herself? these days, it’s hard to tell. still, skeeter’s in one piece, so she doesn’t have to think too hard about it all. 

    she looks away, glances up and down the street. ‘ s’gettin’ late. should rest up. ’ 

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rotlaust | ???.

                                              two mangy nails repeatedly scrape over skeitan’s forehead, drill heftily into the place where his brows would meet.     it describes a gesture of fake contemplation, ostensible and showy and with a little bit of taunt; some joke he doesn’t want to share, nothing she could ever have.               ‘  oh, the prettiest ones, they never stick,  ’                he sing-songs, features crinkling with pity,               ‘  for us ordinary mortals it’s better to not pay any attention to them at all.     so,     no,     lonely woman, the big, blond, funny-armed adonis?     we did not meet.  ‘

        ‘ funny thing is, i didn’t say nothin’ about his arm. ’ he’s playing games, and kit’s patience for that sort of thing died along with her the first time. now? she just wants to find skeeter before he can cause much harm-- either to himself or others. it’d be nice to be able to stay in town for a little longer than a few days, see if bishop comes back around, though she gets the feeling her luck’s all sour. ‘ i suggest you tell me where it is you saw him. whether you met him or not, i don’t rightly care. i would just like to see my brother again if it’s all the same to you. ’ 

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“I promise, I did not say one word. I would not.” ( from skeet )

JAMESTOWN. accepting.

    no, she believes him. there is not a malicious bone in skeeter’s body, she reckons, at least not concerning herself, and they’re... friends. she supposes that’s the word. you call a man your brother enough and he saves your life enough, that is what you become. she doubts he’d utter a bad word against her at this point. 

    the folks around town, however... well, they see things skeeter wilfully ignores or otherwise fails to notice. the folks around town, they talk.

        ‘ no, ’ she says, and shakes her head. ‘ no, i know you wouldn’t. ’ she pats his shoulder, affectionately, sisterly almost. ‘ we ain’t welcome here no more, skeet. they’re gonna do more than just talk if we stick around. c’mon, let’s get your stuff packed up. ’