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Isaedras Cleditre

The Sveik 裏切ら
Silas let out a heavy breath as he crouched into the patch of flowers beneath his boots and took a moment to calm himself. The icy cold wind of Ambarino and it's mountains washed over him, blowing the petals from their stems and carrying the snow from up above down into the treetops surrounding him. It would've been a peaceful morning for anyone else but Silas felt nothing but grief.

He had just returned from visiting the charred remains of the Adler Ranch after making his monthly visit to pay his respects and was overcome with sadness. He had no tears left to cry and instead felt his pain internally as he looked out across the grassy hills and fondled the stem of a blossom between his fingertips.

Silas In The Flowers 1.jpg

Anytime he neared these mountains or merely spotted them off in the distance he was reminded of what had been done, what he had done, and what had been lost in the process. Every time he even tried to shut his eyes he saw the faces and heard the voices of the Adler Family. The nearest and dearest of his memories of Jake and Sadie Adler now haunting him every second of every day as he vividly recalled the wonderful time he had spent living with the two before he left and before disaster struck.

Young Sadie Adler.jpg


In his mind's eye, he saw Sadie's honey blonde hair as she rummaged about the cabin, heard Jake's hearty laugh as the three of them sat huddled together at the dinner table, Sadie's low country drawl and laugh as they joked about. He'd never met anyone like those two and he was pretty sure he'd never meet anyone like them ever again, but instead of being able to cherish these memories, Silas only felt the same immense feelings of guilt and unrequited feelings for Sadie that had been weighing him down ever since he had discovered the ashes of his former home.

If Silas hadn't left them unprotected for so long maybe they would still be alive, or so he thought. He had promised to protect them from harm and burglary and had done so for months. It was undoubtedly the best year of his life living with them despite all of the hard work, the two of them were the most important things in his life that he had ever known, but eventually things became complicated. It was all because of that Sadie Adler, she had unknowingly cast a spell on him and stolen his heart right through his chest. The time they spent alone together didn't help either as Silas always found himself prone to staring, becoming lost in her soft hazel eyes and her tender demeanor. She was warm like the sun even in the harsh frozen terrain that they lived in and always managed to put a smile on his face, giving off practically a heavenly glow as she worked about the ranch, none the wiser to his mounting affection for her.

Silas knew then he would soon have to leave. His respect for her and her husband was too great for him to allow his own feelings to get in the way of their marriage. Jake Adler was a precious friend of his and he would've never forgiven himself if he had polluted their friendship. So, with a heavy heart and a tearful goodbye amongst the three of them, Silas would go on to make the biggest mistake of his life and theirs as he left them to their modest ranch in search of fresh bounty work, and to his knowledge, had left them to die in the process.


Flashes of what he imagined their corpses to look like suddenly plagued his mind and he quickly snapped out of his daydream as his breathing grew heavier and frantic.

Silas avoided tearing up by biting down on the edge of his tongue and eventually crushing the flower in his palm before wiping the thorns from his gloves and standing up. He had spent much too long reflecting on his past and his agitated steed was eager to let him know as she stamped the ground and paced back and forth.

"I know, I know girl." Silas sighed as he recovered his composure slowly but surely and walked over to his horse, stroking her mane to calm her down before taking her by the reins. "Just...thinking is all." He lead Mirren through the flowers as he thought on what the reoccurring intense sadness and grief that he had been struggling to deal with ever since their deaths had pushed him to do in the last few months. As he recalled all of the unusually violent methods he had been using as of late to leech information from O'Driscolls he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be taking a trip down to Saint-Denis in order to help bring in Etta Doyle and her gang.

Silas and Mirren.jpg

If there was one thing in this world Silas hated more than Colm O'Driscoll it was humidity, and the swamps in Lemoyne were full of it. The overall stickiness of it combined with the constant sweating made it quite uncomfortable to traverse during the hotter days while searching for bounty targets during the day or night. Silas was also no fan of gators and neither was his steed. Last time they had rode into Lemoyne there was a much too close encounter with more than one of the cold-blooded creatures that ending Mirren and thus sending Silas flying into the mud with nothing but a muddy old shotgun to defend himself with. So, it was safe to say neither Silas or his steed were fans of the muddier side of the country.

"No rest for the wicked I suppose. Guess we're heading to Saint-Denis." Silas muttered as he hopped upon Mirren's back and she whinnied in response. Silas was soon lost in thought once again and took a moment to recall all the information he had been given on Etta Doyle and her comrades before pulling the wanted poster from his saddlebag and unfolding it.

"Etta Doyle. Wanted for train and coach robbery. Alive too? Damn. Last seen skulking around Saint-Denis. 48 years of age. Dresses in Men's clothing. Is the leader of a gang of women known for terrorizing coaches and trains. Well, no shit. Considered extremely dangerous but there is a 'sizable reward.' Well, that's just music to my ears." Silas refolded the tacky wanted poster before placing it back into his bag and taking a moment to stretch his kneck.

"Well, Miss Doyle. You sound like quite the fearless female. Not too afraid of anyone be it lawmen or criminals alike." Silas pulled out one of his revolvers and quickly cleaned it up with some spare gun oil before taking out his black brimmed Cutter hat and placing it atop his roughly tied silver hair. "But you should be afraid of me." He sneered as his horse began to trot in place impatiently. "Hold on, hold on. We're not heading down into Lemoyne just yet, girl. We have to make a stop first." He chuckled and stroked Mirren's mane before making his way out of the valley and heading in the general direction of Saint-Denis

----A day or so later----

Silas was busy making a fresh entry into the journal he had begun writing in per Sadie's suggestion long ago until he heard the familiar droning music of a weathered gramophone. He looked up and spotted the Traveling Wildflower herself, "Madam" Nazar. This surprised him quite a bit despite her being exactly who he had been looking for since she was supposed to be nearly a half a mile farther from this side of Lemoyne. Before he could say a word her unmistakably thick Romanian accent welcomed him as she looked up from her book with a grin and hastily got to her bare feet to greet him.

"Ahh, My precious Fox. How are you, my darling." Nazar cooed as she whipped her long braids from over her shoulder and adjusted her scarf and blouse before pulling Silas into a hug as he stepped down from his horse. She had to get up on her tiptoes to reach his cheeks and quickly gave them both a kiss. "it is good to see you are not yet too illustrious for my humble company." She teased.

"Missed you too, Wildflower." Silas cracked a weak smile and gently lifted her hand to his lips before looking her up and down and spinning her by her hips. "You alright? I know I've been gone for awhile but for goo-...hmm." He frowned and rubbed a fresh-looking bruise on the back of her shoulder with his thumb before turning her to face him. "Explain." He gently cupped her chin and she winced as he turned her head side to side and noticed a bruise on the underside of her chin that she had attempted to hide with her hair.

Nazar attempted to pout her way out of an explanation as he tucked her hair behind her ear and she slid her hands up his shoulders and around his neck but was immediately discouraged by the stern look he was giving her now as he began folding his arms.

"It's nothing. Promise." Nazar smiled sheepishly before exhaling in defeat and turning to sit back down in her chair. "Fine fine. It was just a bit of a scuffle. Some of my newer collectors were a bit...mm...rougher around the edges. But they are good people."

"You mean good for business." Silas huffed and rested on one knee in the grass so he was sitting at eye level with her. "What happened this time?"

She seemed reluctant to talk but there was no use in hiding it from her male colleague since he was prone to worrying and wouldn't cease until he had answers.

"Well, I needed to move my wares downwind from the marsh. It is much too stuffy for my taste and the profit was not worth the hassle or all the filth and mud. I even lost those nice shoes you gave me." She stuck out one of her feet and wiggled her toes before returning to her recalling of events.

"So, I decided to use my charms to get some of the collectors that had stopped by to do it for me. They wanted payment and I, of course, agreed." She motioned to her stand and sighed as she reopened her book. "The two were more than happy to oblige my request and all was going smoothly until they...mm...requested some 'services' I could not provide." She chuckled meekly and shook her head. "Perhaps they mistook Teller of Fortunes and Finder Of Lost Things for Common Whore and Loathly Bedswerver." Her pride seemed a bit damaged as she spoke and she hesitated for a moment before closing her book around her thumb momentarily and reaching for one of her cigarette holders, gingerly placing it between her lips.

Silas plucked the holder from her lips and began to twirl it between his fingers as he motioned for her to go on and she reluctantly continued.

"Well, as you can probably imagine, telling the two brutes that I'm not that kind of palmist and that they would likely have more luck with each other than I....did not end so well. One of them got the jump on me and the other decided it was time to put the poor defenseless woman in her place. Sadly, for them, I quickly had my machete in hand which spooked them long enough for me to grab my rifle and run them off. Although, it was not as quickly as I would have liked. " She scratched at her neck and sighed. "But that's what happens when I don't have my Big strong bounty hunter here to protect me, you know?"

The quizzical look on Silas's face turned to a somber one as he got to his feet and walked around her chair, gently massaging her shoulders before stooping down to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry. " He sighed. "I should've been here sooner."

"Don't go getting all tearful on me now, Silver Fox. I am just fine." Nazar gently gave his left hand a squeeze before resting her cheek on the knuckles of his weathered gloves. "Where have you been though mm? It gets lonely out here and as much as I love my little feathered babies they aren't much for conversation." She chuckled as she peered over the pages of her book before pouting as she felt his hands leave her shoulders. Her birds chittering feverishly behind her as they rested in their cages, hanging from her modest cart.

Silas and Nazar 3 (Finished).jpg

Silas stepped away for a moment to breathe and shook his head as he scratched at his cheek. "I...uhh...went back up into Ambarino. Up Lake Isabella to the Adler Ranch."

As he spoke Nazar sighed and grew sorrowful for him, her eyes softening as she listened quietly.

"I just go up there to think sometimes, you know? I can never think down here. I'm always so angry. And that was home...so..." SIlas huffed and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet a bit nervously and Nazar spoke up.

"Silas, look at me." Silas turned a bit hesitantly as she spoke. "Why do you keep returning to that place? A place that instead of giving you happiness now gives you such grief. It hurts me seeing you this way, Silas. You suffer yourself too much and are drowning in remorse already. I've seen it in you. That bitter hatred you have for yourself. I see right through you, understand? I've seen the way you take out your sadness on those you hunt and those who do wrong but this is no way to live. You don't allow me or any other woman to comfort you and yet you return to that place every month without fail. Why?"

Silas cleared his throat as she spoke before nervously scratching at his ear with a sigh. "I can't lose sight of my goals, Nadya. I can't let my self forget how I let them die. How I let her die...I must ground myself. Keep vigilant. Fight."

"You may be fighting but that's still not living, Silas. You're dead behind those eyes, I see it." She got up from her chair and cupped his face in her hands. "When we work together I watch you. I do....and there has never been a moment or a mere second where you've even come close to forgiving yourself for what happened. I see it in your eyes, Silas. You may be living and breathing just like myself but you are not living. You are existing... nothing more....and if your soul has died with her or with them then so be it. We've all lost loved ones before and I don't expect a scar so deep to wash away but you don't have to do this on your own."

"For what I've done and what I caused them...my redemption will come purely from revenge and through the spilling of that fucker's blood. It's my purpose in life and right now that's all I got." Silas muttered in response to her words. "I have to do this because it's all I can do."

As Nazar's many rings and trinkets brushed against his cheek, her thumbs wiped away his tears as she spoke. "Your purpose in life now is to hunt down the O'Driscoll leader. I understand this...but that does not mean you have to continue to torture yourself as punishment for his wrongdoing. By abusing yourself in this way you don't come any closer to your target. Yes? And if there's one thing I know it's that they would not want you to be this way. You have suffered enough, Silas. You have more than just your thirst for revenge, you realize this right? As alone as you may feel you still have me."

Nazar ran her fingers through his hair and sighed as his empty, tear-filled eyes stared back into hers. She pushed his hat up above his brow long enough to place a kiss on his forehead before sitting back down in her chair and taking a long deep breath.

Silas handed her back the cigarette holder he had pulled from her lips minutes ago and let his hands rest on his hips.

"Be it as a partner for life or as a life partner, my doors are always open for you, Silas." Nazar smiled warmly as she lit her cigarette by holding it up to the flame in the lantern she had been using for reading beneath the trees. "I hope you find the man that you seek soon enough. The end of this journey will end in blood and I pray that it isn't yours. Now go, I'm sure you've already got a fresh target in your sights." She motioned for him to press on and continue his journey with a heavy but hopeful heart.

"That's actually why I was stopping by to see you." Silas quickly wiped his face against his sleeve before clearing his throat. "I'm heading into Saint-Denis in search of Etta Doyle and her gang. It could take a few days more than I'd like judging by the size of her current crew and I know you're no fan of the city so I wanted to stop by and make sure you were being looked after while I'm off working. The problem is I don't trust many. I hardly trust you." He teased her with another gentle smile.

"And for good reason." Nazar chuckled and with her free hand, she pulled a small roll of bills from within the chest of her blouse and smirked.

Silas feigned a surprised gasp and clutched his chest. "My word, a nimble-fingered gypsy has robbed me of my tender. Hwhatever shall I do." He mocked the unusually snooty accent of many of the people of Saint-Denis with a beyond overdramatic flourish in tone as he stepped up to her once again.

Nazar got to her feet once and waved the roll around with a mischevious grin, placing her cigarette holder in her ear with the burning end facing away from her face as it dropped the ashes behind her. "You can have it back, but for a price."

"You'll give me my money back in exchange for payment? That's an odd con, Nazar. Even for you." Silas chuckled as she slid into his arms.

"Oh, it's not money I want but a kiss." Nazar wrapped her arms around his neck, still holding the bills between her fingertips.

"Hm. That so? Well, nice try Nadya, but you can keep it." Silas slipped free of her arms and turned away before suddenly feeling a breeze going through his hair as he realized his hat was now missing as well. He twirled around again to see Nazar standing barefoot atop her chair and beaming with pride as she wore the ill-fitting hat atop her head.

Silas chuckled and genuinely smiled before whistling for his horse. "You can keep that too if you'd like. Maybe you could even buy yourself some new shoes to match with the money you stole as well."

As Silas mounted his steed Nazar hopped down from her chair with a playful pout before walking over and thumping him on the leg with his hat. "You're no fun at all, you know this right? You were supposed to come and retrieve it yourself." She handed it back to him after brushing away any leaves or bits of bark that had floated down from the trees and their many branches with her fingertips.

"Oh, believe me, I know what you wanted me to do and I know exactly why you wanted me to do it." SIlas placed his hat back on and grinned at Nazar before leaning down and pinching her cheek.

She feigned a biting motion towards his hand before rolling her eyes and looking up at him. "Hmph. Sly fox. You are too clever for your own good, you know."

"Yes, yes I know. One of these days it'll be the death of me, I fear. But not just yet...not until I'm finished." Silas looked out across the grassy hills of Scarlett Meadows and took a deep breath before looking back down to Nazar, taking up her hands, and gently squeezing her hand in his. "You be safe out here. Get someplace quiet and lay low awhile. I'll come back here when I'm finished before the week is out."

"You don't need to worry about me so much, Silas. I can handle my self. A few bruises are commonplace but this wildflower is still perfectly intact. Petals and all." Nazar smiled and squeezed his hand back. "Even so...You better come back to me sooner rather than later, understand?" She squeezed his hand a bit harder now and Silas merely chuckled, stifling a wince as he did.

"I will do my best. You have my word. Bounty Hunting isn't easy but if I can wrap this up in a day or two then I'll take a break from things, for your sake. Deal?"

"You have a deal, Silver Fox." Nazar smiled and shook his hand before taking a step back. "Now go on, I won't keep you any longer."

Silas nodded and tipped his hat to her before clicking his tongue as he rode off towards Saint-Denis in search of his bounty target and hopefully more information to lead him to the elusive Colm O'Driscoll himself.



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RandomGuyOffTheStreet2475 RandomGuyOffTheStreet2475 tallonisfarout tallonisfarout Terrier B Terrier B
 
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Arthur fell behind Dutch and Micah, someone needed a ride somewhere and he offered to help “Here ya are miss” Arthur said as he lifted her gently off his horse and onto the ground.

“Thank you, oh thank you” she said as she ran off to her house. Arthur quickly rode towards Saint Denis when an empty wagon rolled into his path. His horse reared up, landed then turned to the side as three guys ran out Arthur at gunpoint.

“Give us all your cash, now!” He walked a little closer to Arthur looking at his face a little closer “wait, that’s Arthur Morgan! Shoot him boys” the O’driscoll yelled as 5 more guys cam running out of hiding spots. Arthur reacted quickly riding to cover and quickly jumping off his horse where he slid to a jagged rock bullets zipping past.

“Git!” He yelled to his horse, it ran off as he yelled to the O’Driscolls “you’re really making me angry” he quickly popped up from his cover and shot one of them in the neck killing him. Arthur switched cover to a thick tree big enough to to cover his whole body. Using his Schofield Revolver, he killed 2 that were next to each other yelling “this was a big mistake!” One of the O’Driscolls tackled him from behind, luckily Arthur was able kick him off and then shoot him in the head killing him. Arthur ran toward the last for and took cover by a rock. He shot one of them in the chest almost killing him, he then shot 2 more one in the forehead and the other in his Adam’s apple. He ran over to the nearly dead one and shot him in the head, then he quickly tackled the last O’Driscoll holding him at gunpoint “Why’re you here you damned rat!”

“W-were here rob a train full of rich people heading to Valentine from Saint Denis” he quivered his hands up and his eyes closed, head to the side.

“Where’s Colm O’Driscoll, you son of a bitch,” he hit him with the hilt of his revolver.

“He’s at a manor over by Saint Denis, now please let me go” he cried

“Sure” Arthur said shooting him square in the head “Damn O’Driscoll” he whistled to his horse which was a Missouri Foxtrotter. It arrived quite quickly and he slowly hopped on and rode towards Dutch who was near Saint Denis.
 
"Wake up, Mira!" Marjorie called in her sing-song voice from the cobblestone streets of San Denis. Naomira had crawled to the top of the wagon and fallen asleep in the shade of the canvas cover with a bottle of rum at her side. Something about the air in the swampland soothed her deeply. It gave her a nostalgic sense of comfort and belonging unmatched by any other terrain. Naomira mumbled and turned to her side, pulling the thin bench cover over her waif like figure. "I'm up." she muttered.

"Oh, I can see that!" the vivacious blonde said with a giggle as she climbed up the side of the caravan and ripped Naomira's makeshift blanket off her body. "How am I supposed to practice my act when you leave Bertram, Magnifico, and Margaret in my care, hmm?"

"Where's Nash?" Naomira asked through a yawn.

"Sally went to the swampland to get the zebras. Couldn't afford to stable them overnight so she tied them out in the trees on the outskirt of town. She took Maratto with her."

Naomira raised herself up on her elbows, eyeing Marjorie with haste. "She left two zebras in the swampland overnight? I'll be surprised if there's anything left of them by now. You know there are gators everywhere outside the city."

Marjorie grimaced "I try not to think about it."

Naomira rolled to her back, folding her arms together beneath her head and closing her eyes. "Maybe Margaret should have gone with her." she muttered.

"You know that we're the only ones who can walk through town. The folks won't pay for a show if they see half of the freaks roaming around in the daylight. Besides, Margaret has other interests here." Marjorie said with a playful purr. "The frenchman came by earlier. He asked about you."

Naomira rolled her eyes beneath her hooded lids. "And what did you say?"

"I said if he so much as looked at you sideways you'd pluck his eyes out." Marjorie said, her smile beaming.

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a favor. I need you focused on the show tonight. Now, up! Up! Up!" Marjorie demanded, swatting her side with her silk hand fan. Naomira fluttered her eyes open again, studying Marjorie more closely. She was already dressed in a beautiful amber colored gown that draped over her curves, her makeup already applied and her hair setting in rollers and covered with a silk bonnet. "Isn't it a little early?" She said, eyeing Marjorie up and down as she sat up and started to put on her ragged black boots, already covered with a thick layer of swamp mud that wouldn't shake out. Marjorie crinkled her nose. "Never! The star of the show must always be presentable. I'm going to stand outside and sell tickets myself if we don't have a crowd tonight."

"We need it." Naomira said, tying her worn laces as tightly as they would go.

Marjorie nodded in agreement. "You should get dressed too! San Denis is a little more open about, well, your type."

Naomira ran her hands along the curve of her neck, massaging the sore spots from sleeping on the hard wooden bench. "No, thank you. It's a wonder I can get do what I do on stage, let alone on the street. Plus, there are police everywhere. I'd catch an indecency charge and then where would you be, miss Marjorie?" Naomira teased, adopting a heavy french accent to poke fun at her name.

Marjorie feigned shock and embarrassment briefly, placing a hand over her heart. "Like you have any room to talk. I can't even say your name."

"You can, but you won't." Naomira yawned. "If you can say Marjorie, Apollo, and Leonardo da Vinci, then you can say Naomira Magdalena Villalobos."

"Okay Naomira Magdalena Villalobos" Marjorie said, careful to sound out each syllable. "Will you please come inside and make sure everyone is ready for dress rehearsal in one hour?" Marjorie said, rocking back and forth on her heels in her silk slippers.

Naomira groaned and slowly rose off the bench, stretching her back and arms as she stood. "Since you asked SO nicely." she teased.

"Yay! And if you see Nash, tell her to bring the animal carriages 'round back. Where folks won't see."

"Yes, your highness." Naomira said, allowing herself to drop to the ground from the top rung of the ladder. She took Marjorie's hand as she gingerly stepped down.

"Thank you. As soon as dress rehearsal starts, I need you backstage. You need to be ready to go on right after Bertram exits with his ribbon act. The crowd will need a pick-me-up. Something pretty to look at." Marjorie said before giving Naomira a butterfly kiss on the cheek.

"But there won't be anyone here for two hours or more." Naomira complained.

"I'm hoping you'll change your mind about stepping outside and greeting the guests." Marjorie said with a wink as the two entered through the back door of the theater. There were over three hundred seats to fill by the time the show started at 7pm. Three hundred meal tickets to be split amongst six people, a dog, a wildcat, and two zebras; only after the venue took their cut, of course.

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Marjorie
 
Arthur fell behind Dutch and Micah, someone needed a ride somewhere and he offered to help “Here ya are miss” Arthur said as he lifted her gently off his horse and onto the ground.

“Thank you, oh thank you” she said as she ran off to her house. Arthur quickly rode towards Saint Denis when an empty wagon rolled into his path. His horse reared up, landed then turned to the side as three guys ran out Arthur at gunpoint.

“Give us all your cash, now!” He walked a little closer to Arthur looking at his face a little closer “wait, that’s Arthur Morgan! Shoot him boys” the O’driscoll yelled as 5 more guys cam running out of hiding spots. Arthur reacted quickly riding to cover and quickly jumping off his horse where he slid to a jagged rock bullets zipping past.

“Git!” He yelled to his horse, it ran off as he yelled to the O’Driscolls “you’re really making me angry” he quickly popped up from his cover and shot one of them in the neck killing him. Arthur switched cover to a thick tree big enough to to cover his whole body. Using his Schofield Revolver, he killed 2 that were next to each other yelling “this was a big mistake!” One of the O’Driscolls tackled him from behind, luckily Arthur was able kick him off and then shoot him in the head killing him. Arthur ran toward the last for and took cover by a rock. He shot one of them in the chest almost killing him, he then shot 2 more one in the forehead and the other in his Adam’s apple. He ran over to the nearly dead one and shot him in the head, then he quickly tackled the last O’Driscoll holding him at gunpoint “Why’re you here you damned rat!”

“W-were here rob a train full of rich people heading to Valentine from Saint Denis” he quivered his hands up and his eyes closed, head to the side.

“Where’s Colm O’Driscoll, you son of a bitch,” he hit him with the hilt of his revolver.

“He’s at a manor over by Saint Denis, now please let me go” he cried

“Sure” Arthur said shooting him square in the head “Damn O’Driscoll” he whistled to his horse which was a Missouri Foxtrotter. It arrived quite quickly and he slowly hopped on and rode towards Dutch who was near Saint Denis.
Meanwhile, in Saint-Denis, Dutch took his time strolling about the city with a grin plastered across his face as a less than pleased Micah slinked behind him. The distinct contrast between the two was almost laughable. Dutch being his audacious and cocky self, strutting his way through the city streets and flaunting his colorful vest and adornments like a peacock while Micah looked as disheveled and messy as ever. It was true that Dutch had a bitter hatred for civilization and the encroaching modern world but despite this, he fit right in and even looked right at home alongside the snooty citizens of Saint-Denis that he so despised with his equally as "in style" clothing, rings, and chains.



"Ahh, yes. Saint-Denis. America's own Gomorrah." Dutch chuckled aloud as he looked about, tipping his hat to the fairer sex as they passed by. "Home of the finest in rich bigots and rapists of this fine country." He stopped for a moment on the sidewalk and placed his hands on his hips, admiring the view as a trolley loudly rang as it passed by.



"I ain't much of a city man, boss. Unlike these civilized folk here. Places all look the same to me. " Micah spoke in response, spitting onto the sidewalk between words.

"See, but that's where you're wrong, my friend. There ain't no such thing as civilized, especially here in a place like this. Only greed. Greedy Men and Greedy Women." Dutch twisted the rings on his pinky before turning around to face his partner in crime.



"Speaking of greed, why don't we get to relieving some of these people of their valuables, eh? Humble them a bit. That's why we're here right boss? " Micah took a moment to scan the many buildings that ran up and down the streets, wondering what kind of a score could be pulled within each of their walls as he did.



"Patience, Micah. Information is key. If we're going to hit Saint-Denis then we go after the biggest score we can. The bigger the score, the more opposition success will bring. And we, Mr.Bell, cannot afford to miss an opportunity such as this. " Dutch talked Micah down as Micah grumbled impatiently and shook his head.

"What you say goes, boss. So, what's the plan?"

"We split up, keep our ears up for anything that sounds satisfactory when it comes to our needs, and most importantly, keep our noses clean! When the time is right, we strike but for now, we lay in wait and listen." Dutch put a hand to his ear, mock listening to the crowds around the street corner before he began strolling again at a brisk pace.



"I know exactly what you mean, Dutch...and this plan of yours works all the better without the dead weight holding us back. Being leaner makes us faster, quieter. More efficient at screwing over the rich and shameless, wouldn't you say?"



Micah was not so subtly alluding to his distaste for the others, mainly Arthur and John, keeping up his tactic of worming his way into Dutch's mind in order to keep in his favor and weaken Dutch's affinity for his two informal sons.



After a bit of uncomfortable silence however, Micah spoke up once again.

"Well, where are we headed then, boss? I'm sure you've got an idea of where to drum up some information worthy of our time."



"I..." Dutch emphasized as he turned swiftly on his heels and placed a hand on Micah's shoulder. "am going to head down to the local saloon. See if I can't rustle up a few drinks and get the locals chatting. You'd be surprised how loose the lips can get once the booze goes past 'em." He chuckled and tapped Micah's shoulder.



"You head on out to wherever you see fit and we'll meet back at camp sometime in the evening. Don't want us being seen together too often. Two hardy looking newcomers hanging around the bustling bodice of the city asking too many may arouse suspicions. If you see Arthur coming into town before I do, tell him the same. We keep our noses clean and listen." Dutch mimed listening to the world around him once again before motioning for Micah to move along as he turned and walked down to the corner, smiling all the way.



//Idea being Dutch goes to the Saloon where Silas is also heading so their conversation can start ((meaning Arthur can stop by midway through the conversation)) and then maybe Micah gets wrapped up in the freakshow or somerthing instead of working and doesnt pop out until later on that night? Silas is still around by then and he spots Micah. Thus, leading us directly towards the main plot of Silas knabbing Micah and using him as leverage. Only problem is im not sure how to get Naomira involved in all this xD buts its a start.
Sorry im late, btw. My internet poofed so when it came back on i had to do a rush job with my reply x.x hope its okay!



 
((Oh, this may be a bad idea since it's a 5AM shower thought but maybe during the tip run Micah stashes his robbery take on Naomira either as a joke or by accident. He realizes his mistake and thinks "No big deal, I can intimidate a lone woman into giving me my money back and then some" but the cops bust Naomira for indecency before he can make his way backstage and the gang has to bust her out of jail and run??? I dunno))
 
((I'm just gonna time skip to two hours later when the show is starting. I'm gonna stick Karen in here too so she can stay relevant lolol. Also, sorry this is kinda bad. I just woke up.))


"I can't believe you drug me out here, Micah" Karen scoffed, folding her arms across her chest as they found their seats. "What do you want to gawk at these poor souls for? And for a dollar a ticket?? I thought we were supposed to be making money here." She sat down with a huff. Dutch had suggested that they stick in pairs or small groups so as not to raise suspicion. Karen had drawn the short straw by being paired with Micah, thus spending the majority of her afternoon skulking around the city and listening to each other complain. What was worse, Karen hadn't even got a chance to hit any of her marks because Micah insisted on cutting in front of her and relieving her targets of their pocket change before she'd have the chance to act.

"This is the lowest form of entertainment. Half naked trash and poor unfortunates." She said bitterly before jabbing him in the rib with her elbow.


Naomira took a deep breath before stepping out onto the stage for the first time. Manifico and Nash sat together on stage right, playing a slow tune with Nash on the acoustic guitar and Manifico strumming a single drum head. Naomira stepped into the spotlight, welcomed by thunderous applause and wolf whistles. Though they couldn't advertise it, they had one of the most subversive shows available across the country. Even the saloon girls didn't dare perform without pettipants and a full skirt. Naomira narrowed her eyes, trying to peer past the crowd to see if any uniformed officers were present, but her sight was blocked by the blaring spotlight.

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Margaret worked quickly behind her, spreading out mats and emptying buckets of broken glass onto the floor. The light reflected off each jagged edge. Meanwhile, Naomira entertained the crowd by dancing to the music. She shed her floor length outer coat, letting it drop to the floor. The crowd erupted once more, this time in a mix of boos, cheers, and lewd shouts. She smirked, raising her hands above her head to peel off her elbow length silk gloves. As soon as Margaret exited the stage, Naomira turned on her heels to face the glass pile. She swept out her leg, slowly peeling off her right stocking before placing her bare foot on the glass.

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Shifting her full weight onto the glass, Naomira extended her leg high above her head, peeling off her second stocking as she did so. Before the crowd could react, she slammed her free foot down onto the mat, sending pieces of broken glass into the air.

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Naomira worked the rest of her act, first simply walking across the glass before jumping on it and finally dropping her full body weight on it. Once on the ground for floor work, Naomira rolled across the mat, stopping to contort into different striking positions. The crowd was eating out of her hand. She stood, taking a bow from the center of her mat. She slipped her stockings back on, glancing to her side. She was almost prepared to exit the stage when Marjorie stepped forward, motioning for her to do a tip run. She nodded and stepped down from the stage and onto the floor level with the crowd. Some people stood to get a better look, but most just stared, not knowing what to expect. Bertram met her from the other side of the stage front with two metal collection plates. Naomira took one and made her way halfway up the aisle before jumping onto an empty chair. She balanced across the back of the guest's chairs, allowing them to get a closer look as they passed her collection plate. Suddenly, she felt a pinch on her leg. She turned to face a long haired man with a rough face stuffing a wad of bills into her stocking. She took a step forward, distancing herself from him before delivering a sharp kick to his throat. No one touched her. She finished the rest of the tip run with Bertram's help and took both collection plates backstage to count while Marjorie closed the show. Suddenly remembering the bills the man had slipped her, Naomira removed her stocking to reveal a thick wad of bills. She counted it slowly, hands shaking. The man had given her almost one hundred dollars.

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"You goddamn fool!" Karen scolded. "How are we gonna get that back now. What are you gonna tell Dutch, huh?"
 
((I'm just gonna time skip to two hours later when the show is starting. I'm gonna stick Karen in here too so she can stay relevant lolol. Also, sorry this is kinda bad. I just woke up.))


"I can't believe you drug me out here, Micah" Karen scoffed, folding her arms across her chest as they found their seats. "What do you want to gawk at these poor souls for? And for a dollar a ticket?? I thought we were supposed to be making money here." She sat down with a huff. Dutch had suggested that they stick in pairs or small groups so as not to raise suspicion. Karen had drawn the short straw by being paired with Micah, thus spending the majority of her afternoon skulking around the city and listening to each other complain. What was worse, Karen hadn't even got a chance to hit any of her marks because Micah insisted on cutting in front of her and relieving her targets of their pocket change before she'd have the chance to act.

"This is the lowest form of entertainment. Half naked trash and poor unfortunates." She said bitterly before jabbing him in the rib with her elbow.


Naomira took a deep breath before stepping out onto the stage for the first time. Manifico and Nash sat together on stage right, playing a slow tune with Nash on the acoustic guitar and Manifico strumming a single drum head. Naomira stepped into the spotlight, welcomed by thunderous applause and wolf whistles. Though they couldn't advertise it, they had one of the most subversive shows available across the country. Even the saloon girls didn't dare perform without pettipants and a full skirt. Naomira narrowed her eyes, trying to peer past the crowd to see if any uniformed officers were present, but her sight was blocked by the blaring spotlight.

View attachment 660097

Margaret worked quickly behind her, spreading out mats and emptying buckets of broken glass onto the floor. The light reflected off each jagged edge. Meanwhile, Naomira entertained the crowd by dancing to the music. She shed her floor length outer coat, letting it drop to the floor. The crowd erupted once more, this time in a mix of boos, cheers, and lewd shouts. She smirked, raising her hands above her head to peel off her elbow length silk gloves. As soon as Margaret exited the stage, Naomira turned on her heels to face the glass pile. She swept out her leg, slowly peeling off her right stocking before placing her bare foot on the glass.

View attachment 660098

Shifting her full weight onto the glass, Naomira extended her leg high above her head, peeling off her second stocking as she did so. Before the crowd could react, she slammed her free foot down onto the mat, sending pieces of broken glass into the air.

View attachment 660099

Naomira worked the rest of her act, first simply walking across the glass before jumping on it and finally dropping her full body weight on it. Once on the ground for floor work, Naomira rolled across the mat, stopping to contort into different striking positions. The crowd was eating out of her hand. She stood, taking a bow from the center of her mat. She slipped her stockings back on, glancing to her side. She was almost prepared to exit the stage when Marjorie stepped forward, motioning for her to do a tip run. She nodded and stepped down from the stage and onto the floor level with the crowd. Some people stood to get a better look, but most just stared, not knowing what to expect. Bertram met her from the other side of the stage front with two metal collection plates. Naomira took one and made her way halfway up the aisle before jumping onto an empty chair. She balanced across the back of the guest's chairs, allowing them to get a closer look as they passed her collection plate. Suddenly, she felt a pinch on her leg. She turned to face a long haired man with a rough face stuffing a wad of bills into her stocking. She took a step forward, distancing herself from him before delivering a sharp kick to his throat. No one touched her. She finished the rest of the tip run with Bertram's help and took both collection plates backstage to count while Marjorie closed the show. Suddenly remembering the bills the man had slipped her, Naomira removed her stocking to reveal a thick wad of bills. She counted it slowly, hands shaking. The man had given her almost one hundred dollars.

View attachment 660103



"You goddamn fool!" Karen scolded. "How are we gonna get that back now. What are you gonna tell Dutch, huh?"
"Don't you mouth off at me now, Karen. If you'd close your lips and do some more listening then maybe you'd learn a thing or two." Micah sat back pleased with himself despite his bruised throat and cleared his throat before speaking. "Now, with an act like that and a lady of her assets, these city slickers are bound to be throwing her wads of cash day in and day out for her little secret sideshow. The money has to go somewhere right? So, I'll just use a bit of charisma to smooth my way into the back and get us all the cash we need for a decent score. This place is no bank but money is money, and Dutch says we need all we can get." Micah watched closely as the woman returned with her collection plates filled with cash to the backstage.

Micah spoke up before Karen could scoff and roll her eyes at his "charisma" comment as he pulled off his hat. "There's nothing that charisma and a little money can't get you. If this, fine young "entertainer" is willing to strip down for a little cash in front of all these people then imagine what can be done with a lot. All we need is to make our way backstage and grab every last cent they've got. Preferably without too much noise. We don't need the law coming down on us, this soon but it's a theater, after all. There's gonna be little to no security on the inside I guarantee it, and if we get any lip from the girl then I'll just be sure to return the favor" He motioned to his throat before patting the holster hidden beneath his coat and placing his hat back atop his head. "Like the boss said. We gotta listen. Keep our ears to the ground and all." He watched as people slowly began to file out of the theater "An opportunity like this one is too easy to pass up. Trust me."


-------
MEANWHILE
-------


Silas grumbled as he made his way to the La Bastille, the local saloon in Saint-Denis, and slowly but surely took a seat nearest the corner of the moderately crowded room. The place was exuding with "old-world" charm, giving off an overall sophisticated vibe that only made him feel even more out of place than he already was. The company the place held was certainly a snooty bunch. They were clearly dripping in wealth and were busy clinking expensive glasses of champagne and gossiping about politics to notice him whatsoever. Even so, he struggled to feel comfortable enough to take off his hat or even order himself a drink.

For someone like Silas, who spent day in and day out simply living off the land this place was just as stuffy and constricting as the corsets many of the women struggled to wear as they shuffled about. It felt more like a luxury hotel than a place for food and drink which only soured his already bitter mood.

Despite only traveling to Saint-Denis in order to pursue Etta Doyle it had turned out that she had already been spooked earlier that week and had skipped town. According to the local police, she had gone from robbing the local trains to robbing Leviticus Cornwall himself and they were in the process of setting up a honeypot to lure her in by tipping her off about a stash of money, ammunition, and more at his freight yard in Saint-Denis. The problem was their grand plan required her to actually show up which, judging by the moon rising, wouldn't be happening any time soon.

Silas sighed and shook his head as he eventually took off his hat and scratched at the roughly tied ponytail underneath. It could take weeks for her and her crew to show up, and even if she did their only plan was shoddy at best and could easily be sniffed out by any gang leader worth their salt as long as they weren't too arrogant and kept their wits about them.

"Who knows? Maybe she is that smug." Silas muttered to himself. He looked up from the table he had been dragging his fingers across and pulled off his gloves with his teeth before running his hands through his hair in frustration.

Just as Silas considered leaving and making his way back to camp, a hearty and jovial voice caught his ear. He hadn’t been paying enough attention to the miscellaneous chatter of the saloon’s customers to notice but something that this mystery man had said had pushed it’s way through the gossip and banter. “As a Van Der Linde...”.

Van Der Linde? As in THE Van Der Linde gang? Silas was far from sure but if this was just a coincidence it was enough to keep him around the stuffy place a little while longer while he found out just what the man was on about. Silas observed the man who stood at the bar entertaining the guests who had swarmed about him and took note of his clothes and manner of speaking. He was definitely more than just the average big talker and those clothes lead Silas to believe this was in fact the one and only Dutch Van Der Linde, immediately making him top priority.

“Van Der Linde!” Silas boomed from his seat, not bothering to stand up as the entire room turned to face him now, the pianist even ceasing to play causing the room to fill with silence. The whimsical energy was suddenly drained from the room and pushed right out the door into the street leaving only a tense stare from Silas, his eyes boring holes into the back of Dutch’s skull. “….Dutch…Van Der Linde.” Silas folded his fingers together , resting the tip of his nose atop his knuckles as the leader of the Van Der Linde gang turned to face him and approached where he sat.

“What is the meaning of this? Can’t you see these fine people and I are having a discussion?” Dutch chuckled as he motioned to the many customers ”clutching their pearls” at Silas and his outburst. “No why’d you have to go and ruin these peoples evenings hmm? Causing a ruckus like that in a civilized place surrounded by all these nice and civilized folks.” Just to talk to little ol’ me? His enunciations were sharp enough to draw blood and filled to the brim with enigmatic sarcasm. “Why that’s just inappropriate and ill-advised.” A few of the miscellaneous rich folk vocally agreed with Dutch and it took all of his power not to roll his eyes as he made his way to the chair across from Silas and took a seat.

“Do I know you, son?” Dutch questioned Silas in a calm but threatening tone causing Silas to slowly shake his head.

“No, of course you don’t. But you should. Silas is the name, and The way I see it I’ve been doing you a favor lately. Besides, any gang leader worth his salt should be keeping an eye on the bounty hunters on his back. Right?” Silas replaced his intense stare with a disappointed look, hoping to stab at Dutch’s ego in the process. “New Bounty Hunter in town? Looking for Etta Doyle? Any of this ringing any bells at all? Jesus, how fresh are you?”

“Now, you listen her-“ Dutch leaned forward in his chair pointing to Silas as he prepared a retort before pausing and taking note of the bounty hunter and his features, The silver hair, the scars across his cheek, the steely eyes. “‘Course. You’re that bounty hunter that’s been slaughtering O’Driscoll boys. The ‘Butcher’ Or ‘Specter’ or whatever the hell moronic name people give you.” He sneered before quickly scanning the room.

“Oh, don’t worry. I work alone, prefer it that way. And, believe it or not, I’m not here to put you away either.” Silas chuckled weakly. “I mean it’d be pretty goddamn easy to call in a couple of lawmen but quite frankly I could care less who you are or what you do. At the Moment, luckily for you, my eyes are set on someone else. So, cooperation is likely in your best interest. Trust me, you don’t wanna make an enemy out of me. If you know anything about what I’ve done to those O’Driscoll boys you’ll play nice.”

Silas wasn’t usually so antagonistic in his approach and would usually say it’s easier to catch flies with honey than bullshit but the thought of being a few words away from finding and putting down Colm O’Driscoll made his blood boil and he was dealing with a different breed of outlaw. Dutch was cunning, imposing, smart as a whip, and confident as ever which was a far cry from the usual targets Silas went after. Dutch was no doubt a seasoned gunfighter as well and had a small army of talented outlaws ready to die to keep their little fugitive family safe.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. I’ll give you that.” Dutch smirked shrugging his shoulders at Silas’s threatening banter. “So, I’ll hear you out. If it’s not me you’re after then what exactly is it you want?”

“It’s simple. I want Colm O’Driscoll. You’re probably the one person I know of that might hate him just as much as I do and you’re the most likely to know where he is.”

As Dutch began to laugh in disbelief Silas began to tap his fingers impatiently against the polished table sat between them.

“And I suppose you’re expecting me to believe that a bounty hunter who takes such pride in his craft such as yourself, can’t track down Colm O’Driscoll? That snake? “ Dutch nearly howled as he wiped at his eyes with his thumb. “I needed that laugh.”

“Oh, I don’t want him as a bounty hunter. If that was the case, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. I want him for revenge. He took the things I loved away from me so I’m going to take his life. Slowly. Can’t do that if I can’t find him, and rumor has it he’s taken some things from you as well, right? The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I’m sure you get it.”

Dutch immediately quieted down upon hearing Silas out and immediately stood up to leave. “This conversation is over.”

“Like hell it is.” Silas got to his feet as well and grit his teeth. “You’ve got no reason not to give me what I need and I’ve been kind enough not to put you down right now and collect.” Silas scoffed. “And unlike you I’ve got nothing left to lose. I’m just a very angry and bitter man with alot of free time on his hands and nothing left to lose. You of all people should know not to get on my shit list!” Silas punched the table with his fists and a slew of patrons began fleeing the saloon , likely sensing the mounting tension between the two men.

“Revenge is a fool’s game, Silas. And don’t insult my intelligence , son. You don’t think I know a desperate man when I see one? I’ve got no interest in helping you settle your grievances with that vermin filth, Colm.” Dutch again tried to leave and this time Silas drew his revolver causing Dutch to draw his own weapon as well.

“Then let me be a fool.” Silas snarled. “You either give me what I want now or you’ll live to regret it later. Where. Is. He.”

“I don’t think that’s too wise of you, Silas. For a bounty hunter you’re mighty ignorant!” Dutch bellowed back as the two began to step in circles about the free space in the saloon, keeping their weapons trained on each other. “It’s not wise to threaten me, boy. You’re on mighty thin ice. Put your weapon down!” Dutch, although fierce in his resolve, began nervously looking about for lawmen. At any moment someone could come through those doors and spot their standoff and go running to the police.

Silas contemplated his next move for a moment, his hands gripping his revolver so tightly that his knuckles turned white as he considered restraining Dutch like he did many of the others he needed to leech information from. The city was too busy for any crazy tactics like that. All of the commotion was bound to attract trouble which meant he didn’t have much time.

“You were warned. I want you to remember that.” Silas sighed, shaking his head in anger as Dutch backed away from him and inched his way towards the exit. “You’ll regret this, I promise you.”

“Whatever you say, bounty hunter. You can’t even find an O’Driscoll. I think I’ll be just fine. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking my leave.” Dutch backed his way out of the saloon and into the street before holstering his revolver and attempting to run to his horse in the least conspicuous way possible.

Silas merely sat back down into his chair and let his revolver fall to the table as he cradled his face in his palms in defeat. “I’ve gotten absolutely nowhere…unless I can find a way to track him back to his camp or some hideaway he’s got out out there I’ll be back to square one…” He shuddered at the thought and did his best to contain his composure as he got to his feet. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched even know and decided it would probably be best to head out soon as well while there was still daylight left to travel with.



FINAL EDIT: Now feel free to bring Arthur in to bump into Dutch on his way out and they talk about what happened before heading back to camp, Have Bobbie overhear this from the corner of the room? Naomira can continue her interactions with Micah and Karen, etc etc. Sorry I took so long you guys. It’s been tough!
 
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Officially: She’d been sent to Saint Denis to pick up any information she could get her hands on, with regards to a personal stash of goodies belonging to a Mr. Cornwall.

But personally? She felt like a worm on a string. Bait, in every single sense of the word. Hell, Doyle hadn’t even looked her in the eye when she told her what to do. That said though, she couldn’t really demean the decision from a logistical point of view. Makes sense to send the weird little Brit we’ve only known for... what? Two days? Two and a half?



While a well reasoned decision made by Doyle, it ultimately wore Robins loyalty somewhat thin. So what better to cheer up a wavering mind than to get it absolutely bladdered over backwards drunk. So tiresome of her own situation was she, Bobbie had just gone ahead and literally walked into the first saloon she’d come across upon her arrival to the city. ‘La Bastille’, why was everything French in this place anyway, she was in America wasn’t she? Maybe that’s why they all said the name wrong too.



Now, maybe it was the ‘esteemed reputation’ held by the establishment in question, or perhaps it was just her accent? Heck, even if it was a combination of the both, was it truly that difficult to just serve her, “a Pint, that’s all I want. Please. For the love of God,”



The Bartender was looking at her as if she’d just landed from a foreign planet or something. She lifted her head up from off of the counter where she had laid it in fatigued frustration. The bartenders confused frown only deepened. Christ, she wasn’t that much of an Oddball was she? Bobbie had put her hair up under her hat, for practicality above anything else. And while she didn’t particularly want to look, or present herself like a boy, sometimes it did help with day to day activities and interactions. Just apparently not this bloody one it seemed...



Bobbie was about to give up altogether. But, luckily for her, that decision got made for her. A shout went up a little ways behind her, and before she could see what all the hubub was for herself, she was pushed to the ground by a small excited gathering next to her.



“... Why’d you have to go and ruin these people’s evenings?”



You can say that again, she refrained herself from saying.



The dramatic shouters now sat a little ways behind her. Groaning, and with a hearty push, Robin gathered herself up and to her feet again. It was a pleasant surprise to see an awaiting Pint sat on the Bar. Shooting him a quizzical glance, the bartender merely raised her eyebrows at her, “It helps it you tell me what you want a Pint of,”



Oh.



Well, least she had something to wet her whistle now. Perhaps this town wasn’t so bad after all!



“New Bounty Hunter in town? Looking for Etta Doyle?”



Well, she practically spat out her drink, lemme tell you that.



Shit. A bounty hunter. And more annoying than that, A Bounty Hunter specifically after her new Boss. And therefore by proxy, he was after her. Bollocks. Shit. Wait, who was he talking to? Robin leaned backwards as casually as she could.



...



Oh great. Bloody Fantastic. The Dutch man, who wasn’t even Dutch. Great. Perhaps it was time to make a run for it-



The cutting scrawp of wooden chairs being roughly dragged across the saloon floor cut through her. She winced and automatically ducked down in response. Jesus Christ! These lads were really going at it! All she’d come in for was a pint, and yet here she was in the middle of an actual standoff would you believe it.



This was a sticky situation that just kept getting stickier by the minute. The two men were moving around the hall in a slow, increasingly wide circle. Each of them occasionally passing Robins hiding stool. For a brief moment, she considered helping the Dutch fellow. She could trip the Bounty Hunter perhaps? Pull her own gun and ask the Dutch for immunity as a reward for her help?



No. Not now. Not yet. Too risky.



Eventually, for what had initially been such a tense standoff, the situation diffused rather amicably. No shots fired, no-one dead. Perfect ending. She was about to make her own casual exit from the scene and make a swift scarper from Saint Denis. When a thought occurred to her. It was a risky thought, and logic snd sense warned her against it. And yet...



As Sulking Silas was making his own departure,



“Hey!”



Crap.



“You want Doyle, right?”



She had a feeling this was going to turn out badly...
 
"I want alot of things. Doyle will have to do." Silas took a moment to compose himself before turning to face the stranger and looking her up and down.

"You been there long?" He scratched the back of his head and tried his best to shake off his encounter from only moments ago, clearing his throat as he addressed the stranger and mentally mulled over her proposition. "Alright, I'll bite. What do you have on Doyle, mm? Talk quickly now I don't have alot of patience left today and I've got someplace to be later." He motioned to the seat that had recently been left empty across from his own before placing his revolver on the table.

"And no games. Or I'll have to use this." As quick as the gun has been placed on the table he picked up with a flourish and spun it on the end of his fingers before holstering his weapon beneath the table.

"What are you a rat? Wannabe bounty hunter? What's your game mm?" Silas tapped his fingers as he awaited her reply, still visibly irritated by the event that had taken place just minutes earlier.

----
MEANWHILE
----


Micah motioned for Karen to follow behind him as the theater had finally emptied save for the entertainers still lingering backstage. All the subtlety to their stealthy approach was shattered to pieces as Micah barged through the door to the backstage area with his revolvers at the ready. "Now I believe you have something of mine, Miss." He pointed his revolver from the few remaining employees to the collection plates full to the brim with cash.

"And due to your uhhh...ungrateful nature, I'd like it back. As well as something extra to sweeten the deal." He walked up to Naomira and gently tapped her cheek with his knuckle, a low chuckle leaving his lips as she pulled away in disgust.

"I guess the rest of these generous offerings from the people will have to do." He pushed past them, keeping his revolver at the ready before motioning for Karen to collect their ill-gotten gains.

"Consider it compensation for this." Micah waved at his throat with a mirthless grin before pulling his second revolver as well and backing away slowly. "And don't get any bright ideas, boys and girls. Or me and my friends will have to end your little sideshow right here and now."

//crappy reply i know but im dealing with some junk rn :/ sorry. Next one will be better!
 
// you’re good, friendo. Don’t be too harsh on yourself. This one may be a little short because I’m writing it on my phone from work.

“I suppose next we’ll be stickin’ up a whore house. Lot of money gets spent there too.” Karen said, rolling her eyes. Though she wouldn’t admit it, robbing a freak show was a good idea. The venue had no security except a single guard at the box office minding the safe. Who were the freaks going to turn to for protection, the police? They would probably turn them out of town before they could even make a formal report.

“So much for charisma,” Karen whispered with a low chuckle as the pair snaked their way backstage. “I can’t wait to tell the others about this.”

Naomira slowly tucked the wad of bills back into her stocking for safe keeping. She would, of course, turn her earnings in to be distributed amongst the troupe and used for supplies eventually, she just wanted to see the look on Marjorie’s face when she saw how much had come from a single patron. She pulled her “house coat” off a single nail hanging from her collapsible dresser. In reality, her house coat was nothing more than an oversized men’s denim jacket that hung just above her knees, but it was soft from years of weathering and it did the job of protecting her modesty while she helped everyone else pack and prepare to depart for the next town in the morning. Come to think of it, Marjorie and Margaret were the only ones among them who actually owned a housecoat; luxuries were rare for true freaks.

Naomira looked into the lighted mirror hanging above Marjorie’s vanity, her heart swelling with pride. The almost one hundred dollars tipped by the single patron alone could be stretched to feed their entire troupe of eight, plus the animals, for two weeks or more. She examined herself carefully, picking stray pieces of glass out of her curls and brushing glass dust off her skin. She paused, leaning closer to the mirror as she noticed that some of her greasepaint had faded. Frowning, she dipped her finger in a small compact of beige greasepaint and spread it across her cheek, covering a coin sized burn scar just under her right eye.

Marjorie entered boisterously, followed by the other performers. The only ones missing were Nash and Margaret, who were tending to the animals and leading them to their carriage in the alley out of view.

“Well, our split wasn’t so bad! Big city venues always want to screw us, but I didn’t tell them about that mid show tip run.” She said with a wink as she squeezed Naomira’s shoulder. “You were incredible.”

Naomira reached up and squeezed Marjorie’s hand, keeping her eyes on the mirror.

“So incredible that I don’t need to worry about packing all of this heavy shit?” She asked.

“You wish!” Marjorie said, snatching her hand away and giving Naomira a playful shove.

Just then, two outlaws burst through the stage entrance, guns drawn. They hadn’t bothered to cover their faces and Naomira immediately recognized the pair from the audience. Marjorie screamed, immediately tucking herself between Naomira and the vanity table. She trembled and put her hands flat down on the table; it wasn’t the first time she’d been through this.

The blood ran from Naomira’s face when the gleam of their drawn pistols caught her eye. She was terrified of guns as a result of growing up in mid-war Guarma and witnessing her mother being murdered by two American soldiers. She planted her feet, determined not to hide or back down. The thieves already had the upper hand, the last thing she wanted was for them to see her cower in fear.

Karen waved her pistol at the group of freaks huddled together behind the two women. “Break it up! I want you all against the wall, away from the plates.” She hissed, stepping forward. They complied, leaving Marjorie and Naomira standing in the middle of the room against the vanity. Confident that she had created enough space to take anyone down should they spring for her, Karen kneeled next to the collection plates and emptied them into her canvas bag.

“Damn, y’all really do make a killing.” She muttered as she grabbed at the stray bills scattered over the ground.

“We need the money. There are so many of us. So many mouths to feed.” Marjorie protested.

“Shut up!” Karen spat, rising to her feet.

Marjorie flinched, keeping her hands flat on the table. She turned to face the man, hoping her charms would go further with him.

“Please mister, whatever she did we can make up for it. Our horses are getting old. They won’t be able to pull the carriage much longer.” She softened her voice and pursed her lips.

Naomira clenched her teeth, stiffening her jaw to prevent from blurting out. She knew that he deserved what she had done. Everyone knew not to touch the performers. Looking at the man with the guns, she could read the same expression in his eyes as her captor from Van Horn had all those years ago. It was a kind of distempered lust. She glared at him, almost daring him to step forward and let her make a lunge for his throat.

Instead, the man stepped backwards, revealing a second revolver as the two prepared to make their escape. Naomira studied the pair, were they siblings? A couple? She made mental notes for the police report she intended to have Marjorie make. She spit on the ground where the man had just stood. At least she had pocketed some of the cash.
 
DqxTZFBXcAA89vN.jpg


Now 'ow could he know all that about her from just one look? In seemingly a single glance, he'd just magically guessed that she was indeed a part of Doyle's gang. Was he really that good...

She hesitated for a very brief moment, before taking the offered seat. However, she then swiftly swore, dashed back up, grabbed her pint from the bar, and returned to their designated table. The sight of a fully loaded gun casually laid atop the table upon her return didn't exactly fill her with ease and comfort. And truth be told, it didn't ebb much more even when he removed it. But she'd opened her mouth now, and so she'd have to follow through with this. Hopefully it'd all be worth it in the end.

Wait, what did he say. What was her game?

Pfffft.

"Life!"


She said it with a smug sort of grin, leaning back slightly in her seat.

"I'd quite like to stay alive at the end of the day if I'm being honest with you. And if I stick around with a woman as bloomin' foolhardy as this Doyle biddy,"

She shrugged,

"Then that's my game lost. So!"

She took a chug from the pint,


"I'll tell you whatever you need to know about her, if you guarantee me safety and, I don't know, immunity? Yeah, that, while and after you go and polish her off. Or whatever it is you want her for."
 
DqxTZFBXcAA89vN.jpg


Now 'ow could he know all that about her from just one look? In seemingly a single glance, he'd just magically guessed that she was indeed a part of Doyle's gang. Was he really that good...

She hesitated for a very brief moment, before taking the offered seat. However, she then swiftly swore, dashed back up, grabbed her pint from the bar, and returned to their designated table. The sight of a fully loaded gun casually laid atop the table upon her return didn't exactly fill her with ease and comfort. And truth be told, it didn't ebb much more even when he removed it. But she'd opened her mouth now, and so she'd have to follow through with this. Hopefully it'd all be worth it in the end.

Wait, what did he say. What was her game?

Pfffft.

"Life!"

She said it with a smug sort of grin, leaning back slightly in her seat.

"I'd quite like to stay alive at the end of the day if I'm being honest with you. And if I stick around with a woman as bloomin' foolhardy as this Doyle biddy,"

She shrugged,

"Then that's my game lost. So!"

She took a chug from the pint,


"I'll tell you whatever you need to know about her, if you guarantee me safety and, I don't know, immunity? Yeah, that, while and after you go and polish her off. Or whatever it is you want her for."

"I don't know about immunity but safety? I can give you that." Silas tried his best not to look bewildered by her demeanor as she seemed alot more aloof than he'd initially assumed just by looking at her.

"People around here aren't too fond of me throwing my weight around, believe me. Not my first time in Saint-Denis. But if anyone asks you're with me. Might get you out of some trouble here and there though that makes you my responsibility." Silas stood up and waved for her to follow him as he slowly made his way outside.

"And as my responsibility, that means that it is my job to keep you in check and keep your nose clean. Or as clean as it can get out here." Silas sneered at the way he was coming off and shook his head. He was starting to sound like the crazy old sheriff down in Tumbleweed.

As he approached his horse he quickly turned on his heel to face her and folded his arms. "That doesn't mean I have a problem with you killing. Just as long as your weapon is pointed at the right people? I don't expect much from an ally of Doyle's so I won't ask for much. Just follow my lead and my word and you'll live long enough for us to part ways."

Silas sighed wondering what the rest of their deal would hold and got on his horse, eager to settle in for the night and pick up where he left off after she told him what she knew.

"Now, make no mistake. I'm not the most lawful citizen around and I don't pretend to be. I mean the fact that I haven't turned you in is proof enough of that. But, I need you to understand that this...collaboration between the two of us only works if you know how to listen and I mean listen. I'm troubled by many things but killing isn't one of them and if I catch wind of anything you might-..." Silas took a deep breath and shook his head feeling as if he was coming off a bit harsh to someone who had essentially put her life in his hands in the first place. He took a moment to compose himself and fussed with his hair a moment before softening his expression a bit. "Just if you trust me I'll trust you. Alright? Now!" He cleared his throat and adjusted his gloves a bit as his horse Mirren impatiently knocked at the cobblestone beneath her hooves.

"Do you have a horse, miss? Or are we gonna have to share?" Just as Silas finished his sentence he heard a bit of commotion just and quickly jumped off his horse before making his way closer to investigate. He just barely spotted two shifty looking characters making their way out of the local theatre in a rush and immediately Silas was on edge. Most of his experience was telling him that this was some kind of criminal activity which annoyed him more than a little as he put on his hat and pulled both of his revolvers before making his way down there to check on the victims.

"I have places to be people!" He muttered angrily to himself before waving for Bobby to follow behind him. He quickly pressed his back up against a wall in an alley up the street from the theatre and quickly shoved a bandana over her head. "I'll handle the talking if the cops arrive but if you're spotted then that's my neck." He shuddered at the idea of putting his life in her hands as well but there was no one else he had to bring with as back up (which never stopped him before) and he couldn't just leave her standing there while the cops scoured the streets for Doyle and her affiliates.

He tensely peered around the corner of the inexplicably moist brick wall as his piercing glare checked every window and doorframe for any other thieves who had yet to make their escape. "Let's hope we don't run into any surprises shall we?" Silas turned to leave once again before noticing his "partner's" distinct lack of a weapon to defend herself with.

"Fuck..." Silas, against his better judgment, gingerly handed her his second revolver before poking her so hard in the collarbone that she jolted a bit. "You shoot me and I'll haunt you." He glared before turning to approach the building slowly but surely.

Eventually, the two made it to the front door and Silas immediately kicked it open gun at the ready.

"Oi there! If you're alive in there give a yell!" He wasn't confident there would be survivors given the look of two that had rushed off just moments ago but they'd left in such a hurry that maybe someone inside had been left alive to give him some information. So far, he had missed the culprits and had absolutely no information to go off since they were too far away for him to get a beat on their physical appearances. He slowly stepped into the echoey and empty main area and eyed the stage, cursing his luck that he hadn't grabbed his repeater from his horse beforehand.

"Just a bounty hunter, that's all." He kept slowly observing the area around him searching for movement and tightening his grip on his gun as the silence persisted.

"Get behind something." He whispered as he gently pushed Bobby towards a few of the nearby seats, ducking behind a row or two as well as he began listening for footsteps.

"I'm not a Lawman so you won't get any second chances from me. I suggest you get out here now or I'm painting this showroom with your blood." Silas made sure to keep the involvement of his "partner" under wraps for the sake of surprise but still wasn't convinced they were dealing with more thieves either.

"They're either the buddies of the other two or just scared. And people do stupid things when they're scared. So, keep your trigger finger at the ready but don't jump the gun. I don't need any dead performers on my conscience got it?" Silas made sure to warn Bobby ahead of times as he heard quiet footsteps approaching
 
"I said shut up!" Karen hissed as she knocked the back of Marjorie's head with her pistol. She hadn't hit the girl hard enough to knock her down, just enough to make her see stars and to draw a little blood. Potential heroes tended to quiet down at even the slightest sight of blood.





While positioned next to the vanity, Karen snatched Naomira’s white silk gloves and headpiece adorned with jewels. Though she hardly had any occasion to wear them, they could probably be fenced for a pretty penny. She stuffed her last minute gains into the bag with the rest of the money.





Naomira kept her head down and her jaw clenched tight, enraged by the attack on Marjorie but unable to do anything to defend her. She watched as the two made their exit through the back door. She inhaled sharply and turned to face the sobbing Marjorie when she knew there would be no more thieves behind them.





Marjorie had crumpled onto the floor underneath the vanity table, her hands pressed tightly against the back of her head, which now bled down to the collar of her baby pink dress. Naomira stroked her hand lightly before reaching into her stocking.





“It’s okay, Marjorie. We still have this. I hid it away to show you later, but now I’m glad because-“





Marjorie looked up, folding her hands in front of her despite the blood flowing down her neck.





“You pocketed some of the tips?”





Naomira’s eyes widened at the accusation. She shoved the bills into Marjorie’s hands.





“What? No! I wanted to show you how much a single customer-“





“A single customer gave you this wad of bills?” she asked, eyes glaring with betrayal.





“Yes, I was so excited to show you.” Naomira said, softening her voice.





“Well, I think I’ve seen enough” Marjorie said, slowly hoisting herself up with help from Bertram, who had approached to investigate the commotion between the two women. Naomira rose, trying desperately to relieve the tension.





“Marjorie, you know me, I’d never-“





“Shut up!” Marjorie said, slapping Naomira across the face with an open hand, mirroring what had been done to her just moments ago.





Naomira bit down on her lip, tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t know how else to convince Marjorie of her loyalty.





“Gather the troupe and calm down for a bit. Hell, go to a hotel with what you’ve got left and get everyone a hot meal. I’m going to report this to the police. I’ll meet you later, okay?” Naomira said, blurting out between poorly hidden gasps for air. She had never expected Marjorie to treat her like that.





Marjorie did not respond, instead giving her attention to Bertram and the other performers as Naomira slipped out the back door adjacent to the stage and onto the street wearing nothing but her house coat over her performance wear and a pair of white stockings. She threw herself out of the alley and towards the street, her usually disciplined steps faltering under the weight of her distress.





Naomira’s eyes settled on an officer just up the road - a broad, clean faced man of about thirty. She sprinted towards him, arms waving.





“Officer, you have to help!” she pleaded





Startled, the officer immediately put his hand to his hostler, causing Naomira to shrink where she stood. She held her hands up so they were level with her shoulders, her empty palms out turned. The officer eyed her up and down with the same look of the outlaw; the same look of her captor. Naomira felt her heart sink as he moved his hand across his belt to a pair of handcuffs.





“Ma’am, are you aware that indecency is illegal in San Denis? We’ve had several reports of a young woman performing illicit acts-"





“You don’t understand! There’s been a robbery!” Naomira interrupted breathlessly.





“Why don’t you try and explain this to be at the station, then?” The officer said, his expression souring as Naomira became more forward. He snatched the arm of her coat and released the cuffs from his belt, wrapping one around her right wrist. Before he could lock the other cuff in place, Naomira turned to face him, throwing her full body weight with the turn and striking the officer across the face with the metal cuff.





The officer blew into his whistle frantically and two more officers rounded the corner within seconds, fully restraining Naomira and assessing the damage done to the officer, who’s nose was bleeding freely.





“Get your filthy hands off of me!” Naomira hissed at the calvary. She thrashed between their grips, trying for any opportunity to land another blow. The officers redirected her and walked to the station.





Marjorie was still comforting the tender hearted Bertram when she head the front door being kicked in. Had Naomira really gone for help? She peeked between the curtains to see a single man standing in the pit, gun drawn. She cursed, gripping the curtain tightly as he explained who he was.





“They’re gone! Don’t shoot!” Marjorie said, slowly parting the curtains enough to reveal her location to the stranger. “We were robbed. I think we had a rat. One of our own set us up.” she said, her small voice growing louder to carry from across the auditorium.





“Please mister, we’ve had enough bloodshed. There are four more backstage, two in town. The rat ran off after the two assailants.” she continued.





Naomira had ceased struggling by the time they brought her to a cell in the basement of the San Denis jail. They had separated her from the men in the holding cells above for fear of her distracting them. Naomira stepped forward into the cell when the door was opened, expecting to be ushered in. To her surprise, the officer gripped her handcuffs and thread them through one of the iron bars just beneath the door latch, tethering Naomira to a single space where the best she could do was sit on the ground and look at the wall with her arms locked behind her head.





“Let’s see if we can’t cool off a little bit before we’re allowed to free roam our cell.” the officer sneered, leaving her alone in the dark, humid, basement.
 
It was interesting. Their agreement currently was no more than mere verbal, a few words exchanged between two newly met acquaintances. And yet, it felt rather reassuring indeed to have at least somebody, not perhaps wholly on your side exactly, but at least semi-inclined to help you out. Even if it was just a little bit. The feeling initially surprised her a tad. Not overwhelmingly so mind you, and the shock soon ebbed into reasonable ease. But a personal dissection of all of this would have to wait until later for now. It seemed they herself and Silas needed to be elsewhere. And quickly too. So Bobbie swiftly finished her drink, threw a tip the bartenders way (missed him completely in the process but she was sure he'd find it eventually) and followed Silas out of the Saloon.

She had made herself listen to him quite purposefully when inside the Saloon, for she wanted to appear both professional, and genuinely possessing an ounce of actual care at their supposed shared cause. However, once out on the street, she couldn't help but think he was starting to sound rather like a record stuck on a loop. Goodness me. It was suddenly all responsibility this, responsibility that. He was starting to sound like her Mother. And so as he went on, and on... and on, she began to admittedly tune out a little bit. Not completely though mind you. She caught the odd word or sentence every now and then. For example, when he said "... The right people," that certainly stuck out to her.

'The right People'
What an odd phrase and definition to come from a man such a himself, to a woman such as her. At this point, Silas was truly beginning to spiral into the deep dark depths of a rather naggy lecture, and her attention was only holding on to him from the thinnest of threads. Luckily for Robin however, he suddenly seemed a little aware of this himself. For he rather swiftly cancelled the increasingly reprimand-like sermon before truly sinking into the swells of utter tedious-ness.

He asked her if she had a horse, and Bobbie immediately brightened. It was as if someone had switched on a bulb. She turned around and gave a distinct whistle. On the corner of the street, tied to a hitching post stood a Palomino Morgan. While perhaps sunny-looking in initial appearance, the Mare's behaviour was seemingly anything but. She bit at any passer-by who got apparently just a little too close to her, and head otherwise snaked from side to side. All in all, the Mare was not a particularly friendly looking animal. And yet, as soon as that Mare heard Robins whistle? Well, it was like a different horse had appeared. She was all sweetness and light, nickering all over the place. Robin took her reins, lead her to Silas and was just about to introduce Canary to him, but all of a sudden they were seemingly on the move.

She re-hitched Canary, and promptly followed him. Goodness, it was all go in this town wasn't it. kljhgkj

He'd set off so quickly she had to put quite the bit of effort in to both catch up, and keep up with him. As of such, she couldn't quite see what or who it was they were after exactly, until they were outside of the theatre. For now, she simply followed his instructions. This was his call, and for now she was just happy to follow his lead. Heck, might even score a few brownie points with his trust if she played her cards right.

She was just jogging to a halt when suddenly, she was enveloped in darkness. She very nearly screamed before realising what it was and what was happening. She muffled awkwardly as she tugged the bandanna down over her face and secured it properly. Guess he didn't hear her say "I have my own!" through cloth. Probably for the best really. Robin followed his lead and instruction inside of the theatre. The silence was eerie, but then again, she supposed when was it ever not in this sort of situation?

Goodness... She'd never been in a theatre as grand as this before. All of this decoration and fancifullness. No. None of that right now. Focus Robin. She shook the wonderings out of her head, turning to address the matter at hand. Geez, he was pushing her around like she was completely clueless. This certainly wasn't her first rodeo! She'd have to show him that she wasn't just some daft reckless kid soon, or she'd go mad from his pandering. She ducked behind one of the right rows of seats, near-ish to the middle of the selection. In one hand, she held Silas' gun cocked and ready, and in the other, one handed-ly she attempted to ready her own. Her own gun that Silas had just presumed she did not own...
 
///somewhat crap reply xD my bad. It's all just fluff cause ive been sitting here for like an hour struggling to figure out how to write "and then he somewhat hastily asked some questions" as a decent reply lmao. Next one'll be better!

Silas gave a sigh of relief before putting his revolver away and getting to his feet slowly, after looking around for quite a while skeptically eyeing the woman he motioned for Bobby to get to her feet.

"A rat you say? Well, that's tough. Seems like you can trust nobody much these days. I'm Silas. Bounty hunter. This here is....uhh....my acquaintance. Just a young lady I'm showing the ropes." He shrugged hoping that was reliable enough an answer since he had never thought to get the girl's name. "You all look awfully shaken up around here. I saw some shifty-looking characters come running out of here in a hurry. Anyone hurt?" He tried his best to get a status report of these people before bothering to ask for a description of any kind.

On the one hand, Silas wanted that information in a hurry but on the other, he was at least somewhat confident that he'd be able to pick up a trail somewhere in the dreary swamps that sat just outside of Saint-Denis. Past experiences told him that there wasn't much place to hide in Lemoyne which suddenly made the imaginary knife in his back plunge deeper when he realized he'd still lost track of an entire group of 8 bounty targets including Etta Doyle herself in those very same swamplands.

"Did you recognize them as friends of this "rat" of yours? What makes you so sure, mm?" He slowly walked up the stairs, checking the surrounding area of where they had been hiding hoping to find some clues to give him a leg up, in case they came up with nothing at all.
 
Elizabeth Hale
"I'm looking for a man by the name of Marion McFarland." spoke a young woman as she entered the Bastille Saloon. Things went quiet for a moment as people turned and looked to her for a moment, recognized her presence and continued on about their activities. However, as the noise resumed in the Saloon, a single man stood up and approached her. Now, this man towered this woman and was built like a brick wall. "Aye, that's me darlin' who's askin'?" The woman looked at him for a moment from under the brim of her hat as her mask hid the rest of her face, "Just karma seeking retribution for your actions, you crippled son of a bitch." her voice was low and each word was laced with a venom so dangerous that if words could kill the man would have been stricken to the ground right then and there. "Ha! I don't think I've ever seen a girl with balls before..." he leaned forward and placed himself face to face with her as he spoke, "Tell me girl. What did I do that hurt your feelings so bad? Did I kill a friend of yours? Oh! Maybe one of my boys stole something from you. Yeah! That's probably it." he stood straight at his last boast and chuckled before placing his hand on her head, "I'll tell you what Missy, why don't you come over and enjoy yourse-" *BANG BANG* The sound of a gun going off echoed throughout the saloon as a bullet from her pistol found itself piercing through the kneecaps of the male standing before her sending him to the ground in a loud agonizing scream as he latched onto his leg that was practically useless at the moment, "GET THAT SON OF A BITCH!" His voice screamed in a mixture of pain and anger as two other men immediately stood up from their booth before another two shots rang through the saloon putting them both down onto the floor before they even had the chance to reach for their guns.
Elizabeth approached the man and stared at him with very cold eyes with her gun aimed at point-blank range from his face. "It was an October night on an old dusty trail when you and twelve other of your 'friends' decided it was a good idea to rob a man and his daughter because, why not, they were easy targets and no one would notice. Right? Wrong, because the one thing you probably didn't realize is the life didn't take? They saw you and your friends face in the fire's light and it was forever burned in her eyes by a fire that would never die until the ground was quenched by you're blood." the male went to go speak before the woman sent a fist into his mouth, successfully caving in his teeth as the brass knuckles she wore on her left hand planted themselves into his face making a very satisfying wet crunch of blood and bone, sending him to the ground despite the odds of how tall he stood in the beginning, "That girl is me, and it was my father's life you snuffed out that night." with her gun back in the man's face she pulled back the hammer of her gun and met her eyes with his, "P-Plea-" "Please?!" he smirked, "I remember those same words being mocked when my father said them. How did you put it? 'Begging for survival just means your weak and should be put out of the misery that is your life before something worse comes along to end it, you should just learn to be a man and accept what is coming.'" his eyes widened, now realizing that the woman had full intention of ending his life.
It was a fast movement as she took a very quick and lethal step forward, reaching into her side and drawing her bowie from its sheath only for it to be sheathed unto the bottom of the man's jaw and up into his skull as she watched the life drain from his eyes before he fell limp onto the ground. wrenching her knife out from the man's skull and spat on his body as she stepped over it and began to make her way from the Saloon.
 
// I left Karen out of this one for the time being. Assuming she and Micah are still traveling to camp with their winnings.

“Tell me about it. You think you know someone.” Marjorie huffed, placing her balled up fists against her hips, her voice carrying the cadence of a pouting child more so than the shell shocked victim of an armed robbery. Marjorie caught herself and gave a slight bow to her newfound company. “I am the Marvelous Miss Marjorie, Mistress of the Stage.” She trilled with a flourish as Magnifico peaked around the curtain. “This is my troupe of unfortunates.” She said with a practiced gesture.



“I ain’t never seen this pair before, but I’m sure she set it up. The girl hasn’t been with us but six months or so. Thinks everyone comes flocking to these shows to see some skinny broad abandon all modesty when we’ve been performing without her for years. On top of that, one of the pair had given her a wad of money just before curtain. Come to think of it, she sure went after ‘em fast once they broke out. Tried to act like the hero.” Marjorie said, blowing a stray blonde curl out from in front of her face.



“I took a hit from the lady robber. Knocked me sideways, but I’ll be alright. I fear this dress will never be stage ready again, though. Not without some alterations, maybe a few crystals..” Marjorie trailed off, distracted by her indulgent fantasy. Her thoughts were interrupted when the bounty hunter approached the stage.



Marjorie raised an eyebrow when the bounty hunter started ascending the steps, not used to sharing the stage with anyone, regardless of whether an audience was present.



“You’re right about the shifty looking characters. I’ve never seen such a strange looking pair on that side of the stage. The man had fair hair down to his shoulders and a real rough face. The girl was fair haired too, but about as rough looking as the man. They could have been siblings, but I doubt it.” Marjorie said, speculating like a housewife gossiping in a sewing circle.



“Strange world we live in, folks.” She said, turning to look at the woman standing amongst the rows of chairs before eyeing her up and down. “The rat was a dark haired girl, about your age.” She motioned to Bobby. “Real mouthy.”





Naomira shrugged her shoulders, tensing the muscles against the uncomfortable position they’d been forced in by the handcuffs. Any other person might have been in a great deal of pain after several minutes forced in the compromising position, but Naomira’s muscles were flexible and well trained from her time traveling with the freak show - so much so that she was starting to become a novice contortionist.



For what she lacked in physical pain, Naomira more than made up for in mental anguish as she mulled over her future. They wouldn’t wait long to go to trial with a violent crime such as hers, especially one against a uniformed officer. They wouldn’t hang a woman for a crime less than murder, that much had been established in the trial of Frankie Silver, which Naomira read about incessantly after one of the newspapers published a retrospective piece for the 50th anniversary of her death. Even now, morbid thoughts crept in as Naomira struggled to recall the words to her ballad.



Naomira shook the thoughts of hanging from her mind, trying to focus on any positive outcome that could be found. For a simple assault, she likely wouldn’t hang, that much was true. However, they wouldn’t be able to send her to a work camp or any facility where men were housed. That much was clear just in the fact that they’d chosen to stow her alone in the basement rather than taking residence in a cell across from a male criminal on the main floor. That left only one option - asylum for the criminally insane. Naomira shuddered, knowing that if she were involuntarily committed then she would never be able to leave on her own merit. She sighed and leaned her head back, resting against the cold iron bar. The tune had resurfaced in her mind.



This time tomorrow, recon where I’ll be,
Down in some lonesome valley,
Hangin’ from a white oak tree.



No, that wasn’t the right ballad. That one was about Tom Dooley’s infamous love triangle. It was close enough, though. Naomira’s shoulders tensed once more, fighting the cramp that had begun forming in the muscles between her shoulder blades.
 
After a brief but sufficient conversation with the victims of the robbery that had taken place not too long ago, Silas and RObin immediately hopped back onto their horses and ran off after the culprits, searching for days and almost a week in an attempt to track down Micah and Karen. It was clear they were both professionals when it came to shaking off bounty hunters though because Silas quickly lost track of them and was forced to give up, retreating to camp before returning to Saint-Denis. On the way back to camp, however, Bobbie spun a yarn about them needing to split up to "cover more ground" and before he could protest considering she had just been asking for his protection a few days prior she had already rushed off into the night.

Silas didn't care much to remember what she had said considering it didn't matter much in the end. Whether Bobbie found him again or they never crossed paths for the rest of their lives, SIlas hoped that she at least ran fast enough to outrun Etta Doyle's gang and didn't become another victim to the brutal life of your average outlaw. She was young and foolhardy and he knew there wasn't much he could've done to change her mind. Having dealt with outlaws on the younger side of things before, Silas had to suppress his usual antics of attempting to take her under his wing and instead decided to let her roam free.


-----

A few days later upon returning SIlas had finally been clued in to the news that one of the victims of the robbery, Naomira, was to be hanged for indecency. It was hardly a verdict that he agreed with and simply the thought made him a bit angry as he watched the crowd gather around early in the middle fo the city square as they waited for the proceedings to take place.

In all honesty, it seemed less like justice and more like bloodthirst which Silas was all too familiar with but just like he had told Bobbie before she scampered off into the night. having your gun pointed at the right people is important. Silas wasn't a fool however, he was aware of the prejudice's people faced for the most minuscule of things. Despite the war having been over for years now people were looking for every reason to separate themselves from the people they thought 'beneath' them and a place like Saint-Denis was filled with people who could afford to flaunt this attitude freely.

This poor girl didn't deserve to die, and this thought was only cemented in his mind as Naomira was brought kicking and screaming out into the public square, eyes red with tears as she did. As he stood disheartened by her screeching Silas wondered if it was worth risking a bounty on his head to set the girl free. He didn't care much for Saint-Denis anyway and she deserved better in his eyes than the cards she had been dealt. It was difficult for Silas to focus as the sound of the crowds jeering and taunting seemed to drown out his own thoughts as he tried to rationalize and drum up a solution.

Silas took a moment to shut his eyes, focusing on drowning out the crowd and even Naomira and her cries for help as he felt the center of his palm begin to itch. He considered simply putting down an officer or two and untying the girl in the chaos that ensued.

Risky. Cops were corrupt enough for him not to feel much in that case but the noose was already around the girl's neck. Wouldn't help her any if her neck had been snapped.

A mercy killing?

Gruesome. Careless. If she deserved better what difference is a bullet to a noose?

As Silas pondered these thoughts he slipped a bandana up over his ears, shrouding his face as he pulled his hat down low, his piercing gaze now all that was visible. He wasn't sure if she could see him in the crowd but he could see here as could they all and when he looked into her eyes all he felt was pity. "Fuck this." He muttered as the executioner gripped the lever that would end in her demise. As the platform beneath her gave way he split the rope with a bullet, causing an uproar in the crowd as they parted ways like the red sea.

Civilians screeching and running in overly pretentious garb this way and that. Men in suits and ties cowering like children, women in dresses doing their best to tumble out of the way in a mess of poofy fabric and hair, the 'lesser' class having no problem sprinting to safety in simple slacks and skirts as Silas slinked away in the chaos beneath the gallows and even fired a few rounds up through the wooden structure before grabbing hold of the nearly unconscious dancer and hoisting her onto his shoulder. "Shut your eyes and don't move. I'll get you outta this!" He had to bellow over all of the shouting as the shrill whistles of policemen could be heard fast approaching.

"Fuck!" Silas muttered under his breath as he awkwardly stumbled to his horse, having no time left to untie the poor girl and instead simply throwing her onto the back of his steed as if she were a mere bounty.

Better apologize later.

Due to the slow-moving police force it wasn't too hard to shake them for the most part by slipping through alleyways and quietly slinking through the more unobserved streets but there was still a long way between Silas and his escape. He needed to make it across the bridge and out of the city but with all of the panic going on he was just barely able to slip away into an alley near the saloon, abandoning his horse just nearby in order to make them less of a target. He pulled his knife free from it's holster at his side and did his best to saw through the ropes that bound this stranger that he was now risking life and limb to save. As the dull blade slowly but surely tore through the rope, Silas could only chuckle meekly to himself as the loud bustle of the crowds and police fumbling about filled the city with the sounds of disarray. These last few days had turned out to be quite the rollercoaster ride and now he wouldn't be able to return to Saint-Denis for quite some time even if he was fully disguised.

"Can you stand?" Silas tried his best to snap her out of her dazed state but wasn't too surprised that she was having a hard time adjusting to the fast-paced situation.




//OKAY! So I wasn't sure how to integrate Elizabeth into things since I had to timeskip a few days to get rid of Bobbie. Any idea I could've had would've required me to "autowalk" your character ( SynKast SynKast ) and I generally don't like doing that because it feels like a rule breaker ya know? Especially if I don't get the actions or the feel of the character correct. I'm gonna give tallonisfarout tallonisfarout a chance to reply and then we can maybe figure out another way to get them together? hell. Could be as simple as Silas escapes with a couple of policemen in tow. He shakes them by hiding in an abandoned building or shack somewhere and they go rushing by, and then both Silas and Naomira are held up by Elizabeth before she recognizes him and basically asks him wtf is going on xD

Fr tho! Sorry I took so long! Was definitely not the plan!
 
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Naomira etched tally marks into the wall of her cell with her nail, counting down the days until her sentence would be carried out. Not a single soul had come to see or speak to her over the course of the week except the officers who had brought her into this hell hole. She hadn’t even had the opportunity to appear before a judge, instead having the judge’s verdict delivered to her with her evening meal of cold hardtack and water. She didn’t allow herself to suffer the indignity of reaction as the officers watched in anticipation. Surely they were playing some cruel prank. She had the right to speak to the judge before her sentence was determined, didn’t she? Further, what judge would sentence a young woman with no discernable criminal past to death for the misdemeanor charges of public indecency and striking an officer? Surely there was some mistake.



She had waited every day for Marjorie to appear and pay her bail or at least talk to her. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve and was prone to making irrational decisions in anger, only to lament her behavior and beg for forgiveness within a day or so. Had she really abandoned Naomira? How could the girl she loved have such little trust in her as to believe that she had conspired against her with thieves? She couldn’t bring herself to believe it.



“Not my Marjorie,” she muttered to herself on the fourth day, having found herself to be quite a taxing conversationalist, “My Marjorie would never…” her voice faded as she found herself distrusting the words as they came out of her mouth.



They hadn’t fed her the evening before her appointed execution, so Naomira never knew which hour would be her last. Panic had cemented itself inside of her as she could no longer put off time. It was all true. Marjorie had left her, and she was going to die. No one would be there to comfort her in her final hours. There would be no next of kin to accept the body, so she her corpse would become property of the state. She would be left to hang for some time to become the symbol of what insubordinance would cost in the new San Denis. Once her body displayed the first signs of active decay, she would be taken to the swampland, damned to fill a dishonored unmarked grave out in the wilderness.



The officers stormed the basement when they came to collect her. They had practically turned the latch handle by the time the Naomira had even acknowledged their presence through the haze and darkness of the dimly lit basement. Two of the officers locked her arms behind her back as the others led her through the underground corridor between the basement and the courtyard. They walked so fast that Naomira’s heels dragged against the cold dirt floor. A priest dressed in an all-black vestment stood in the corner between the wall and the exit. Naomira turned to him, her hands clasped flat against each other.



“Father, please. You have to help me!” she shouted, causing the aging man to recoil.



“May God have mercy on your soul, child” the priest replied in a dry voice as the officer to Naomira’s right unlocked the door and stood to the side, allowing the officers behind her to push forward to face the crowd of bloodthirsty civilians.







After days of being trapped in the cave-like basement without a glimpse of sun, being thrust into the daylight was nothing short of blinding. Tears flowed down Naomira’s swollen face as the stifling heat bore down upon her. Her eyes darted frantically in every direction at the crowd surrounding the gallows. The crowd erupted as the officers forced Naomira up the stairs up to the platform. Her heart dropped and the blood drained from her face the moment Naomira laid eyes upon the noose. It was like a nightmare – the crowds who just a week prior had fawned over every stretch of her limbs were now dressed to the nines for her execution. Ladies in fine dresses and elbow length gloves cooled themselves with silk hand fans as men in their Sunday best cheered like a choice political candidate had taken the stage. Her lips trembled as the chief of police condemned her.



“Let this act serve to the citizens of our great city that indecency and insubordination against law enforcement will be punished to the fullest extent of the law. San Denis will heretofore be mecca of dignity and respectable civic engagement. It is for this reason that I sentence you, Naomira Magdalena Villalobos to hang by the neck until you are dead in full observance of San Denis law”



Naomira was in such a state of shock that she could no longer here the chief’s address. She had gone into full hysterics, pushing and kicking against the officers that restrained her. The crowd cheered as the chief stepped to the side and the officers marched Naomira to the middle of the platform.



“No! Please god! Marjorie!” Naomira screamed. Was there not a single protestor in the audience? Had the people who previously showered her with adoration so suddenly turned against her? One officer tightened the noose around her neck while another crossed the platform to assist the executioner as he placed his hands upon the level. Naomira held her breath and tensed her body; if this was the only action that she could take to satisfy the crowd, then so be it. She would give one hell of a final performance. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind, preparing for the end.



She hadn’t hurt the gunshot. She wasn’t aware of the bullet even as it cut the air above her head and severed the rope. To Naomira, the end had already come as the platform below her dropped. All she heard was the uproar from the crowd, presumably celebrating as the city of San Denis was rid of one more delinquent. She did not move as her body dropped to the ground, her fall being broken by her knees. She hadn’t even realized that she was still breathing until another series of gunshots rang out above her, sending wood dust cascading over her. Her eyes shot open, like the victim of a drowning suddenly receiving air into their lungs. The shock sent her scrambling back up to her knees as adrenaline took over, preparing her to run away. As soon as she set herself upright, however, she met the eyes of a masked stranger. Though the mask prevented her from discerning any of the man’s features, Naomira had no choice but to trust him. She nodded, acknowledging his command before shutting her eyes and going limp as he hoisted her over his shoulder. Her heart ached as she fought not to raise her eyes to the crowd as the man crossed the courtyard. Marjorie must be nearby, mustn’t she? Against her better judgment, Naomira gave a sharp cry of pain as she was thrown onto the horse. She gave an apologetic glance toward the man as he guided the steed through the narrow side streets, eventually dismounting and helping her down. She leaned against the brick wall of the saloon, gasping to catch her breath as she held her hands out for the man to saw through her restraints. She exhaled quickly, chuckling at the man’s question despite the hysterics.



“Sure, I can stand. Them cops hurt my feelings more than anything” she said with a dry laugh.
 

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