The Fantastical West [Drunken-Rabbit x Athanis]

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Drunken-Rabbit, Sep 26, 2013.

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    Corinne was once a simple girl. She lived her whole younger years on a farm outside Oklahoma City. She worked for her pa' and ma', not fearing the hard labor on her delicate frame. The girl had fiery auburn locks, and she was a sight to behold to anyone. She had many suitors, but she all turned them down, because she was waiting on one person.​
    He had come into her life when she was only at the blossoming age of thirteen, he was tall and handsome, and his Uncle had a farm next door to hers. Her father and his Uncle would talk business quite often, and they often had family meals together. He was much, much older than her, but she didn't mind a bit. She didn't care much for fella's her age because all they cared about was what kind of harvest they were going to have or about rolling in the pig pen. ​
    As quickly as he came into her life, he left, back to his Mother's somewhere west. She wasn't sure where, and she missed him dearly ever since, but it was no bother to her in the end. It soon became time for her to choose a husband, and so she did, at the age of sixteen she married a local farm boy who cared nothin' for her. They tried to have children but both times they tried ended in failures. Corinne was heart broken. She was even more devastated when a tornado came around and blew the house they owned down upon her husband. She was left a widow, and nothing better to do than go to the west, and search in the silver mines in Tombstone. ​
    When she left her home, she had changed, she had grew hard and her fiery red locks had lost their fire, and her skin had grown pale. But she still kept on. She was the toughest girl in the west, and only because she wouldn't let anyone cross her. Even come near to her. She couldn't handle the pain of losing more loved ones. There she sits at a lonely saloon in the evening, a bottle of whiskey in her right palm, and her six shooter dangling from her finger. Oh how she ponders life and death.​
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  2. Mac wasn't really used to all the husstle and bussle of a town, considering he had been spending most his time out in the woods, hunting and living away from all the nastyness that was humanity. It'd been a long time since he needed to come into town for supplies, but today was the day and he wasn't going to waste his time. With a empty cannister in his one hand and another tied to his backpack, Mac kicked up the dust as he strode down the road.

    The folks surrounding the plaza would stop and stare, doing double takes at the handsome hermit. Most women would whisper to one another, wondering what a man like that was doing out in the woods by himself, why in all that was right he didn't find himself fit enough to stand around the rest of them. Men saw the strong young lad and silently questioned why he never signed up for work, knowing all the money he could make with working body. But it wasn't the people that Mac didn't like, it was the way the town worked, the way the people treated eachother based off their roles within it. Living on his own left him to his own devices and no one elses.

    A large callosed hand pushed on the worn wooden door of the trade shop, forcing it and fitting his wide shoulders inside. The rusted bell that dangled above the structer jingled, catching the attentions of the store owner and his clerk.

    "'Morning Mac! Nice to see you decided to grace us with your presence!" The dark haired woman behind the counter laughed, placing a gloved hand on her curvacious hip. The store manager shushed her quickly, stepping out in front of Mac to help him with his load.

    "I'm assumin' you've come for the usual?" The withered and graying man tightened his jaw as he picked up the cannister that Mac made look so light. He struggled with it for a moment before setting it on the floor. "You brought the usual today too?"

    Mac turned up his deep brown eyes, looking out behind the short curtain of even darker brown hair. "Naw sir, got some choice cuts of meat this time. I got lucky findin' a couple bucks out in the thick; easy catch when their so busy fightin' eachother." He smiled, showcasing a set of straight teeth; surprisingly all still there.

    The old man's eyes lit up as Mac removed his backpack, pulling back the zipper and withdrawing several bundles in thick brown paper all tied with twine. "Enough to get me what need for a couple months I'm sure?" Mac smiled, hinting at the necesities he had come for.

    "Well sure! Always a pleasure doin' business with you Mac! Of course; Of course! With that the little man was off gathering the usual: Paper, water and grain.
     
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