THE BROKEN PROMISE LAND.

austin poe jr, xx, rogue ❝ i walk through the valley of the shadow of death, & i'll fear no evil because i'm blind to it all, & my mind & my gun they comfort me because i know i'll kill my enemies when they come . . . ❞

[amentias-blog1]

( nvrcissistic. )

At the time, Cheyenne had been practically filthy with wild redheads, running amok through the camps. Nearly all of which Austin could never seem to stand. The redhead in question seeming to be one of them. Asher had been about to ask exactly about why Austin seemed to act like his so called ‘sister’ had incurred such wrath but at a quick look at Austin’s dark expression at the time, he’d known better. Asher’s idea of family wasn’t exactly warm and loving, but it wasnt as violent as a wildfire either. His idea of family was lavish gifts at it’s best and cold, unwavering.. unforgiving disdain at it’s worst. Austin didn’t seem to have a frigid bone in his body, everything the redhead did, it seemed he did with volatile force. In fact, that was part of the young man’s appeal.. who’s gaze wasn’t drawn to a devastating explosion? It was enthralling to watch. Destructive.. but beautiful.

Speaking of destructive. Asher tensed, his smile freezing but not quite faltering as Austin snarled those low, volatile words. Leveling that familiar, murderous look upon Asher as he pressed the cold end of the gun harder into Asher’s chest. “Aren’t I? Never failed to grab your attention.” He quipped, though his hands lifted, palms bare to Austin. Then his gaze met Austin’s own. That look, was something incredibly familiar. Bearing all the wrath of a cornered bloody animal, with the promise of an intelligence behind it to get vengeance on whatever slight Austin may have concocted in his mind. Whatever way Asher had insulted him now. Usually, Asher would think it was endearing, or at the very least, sexy as hell. But with the last week, Alexi’s absence still fresh in his mind, a black eye and bloodied nose and the exhaustion from his trek back to Cheyenne, his own tolerance was wearing uncharacteristically thin. His own features twisted slightly. The smile still there, but pretty blue eyes became cold as his chin jutted forward at the moment he heard Austin’s deliberately mispronounced words. Who the hell was he to taunt Asher with that name after turning him away?! Nostrils flared as Asher’s head inclined and his features curved again into a smile. Though this time, it seemed more a baring of pearly, perfectly aligned teeth. A refined form of hostility to match Austin’s trademark feral appeal.

“Did you forget? You made certain I wouldn’t find him in our last interaction.” He stated, tone haughty and provoking. Two fingers of his raised right hand pushed the muzzle of the gun away from his chest. “Besides.. strike me? …Alexi?” His nose wrinkled, before lips pursed and Asher’s shoulders tensed defiantly. Bruised blue eyes meeting Austin’s head-on. He was not ignorant to the powder keg that the redhead was capable of becoming. He was not deaf to the thrumming temper within the man, like a dangerous electrical wire. But that didn’t stop him from retaliating. “Alexi’s never struck me a day in his life. Real men don’t feel the need to beat their fists on things like bloody barbarians.” If Austin had wanted to needle Asher, that was exactly what he’d done, and it was apparent in the absolute lack of velvet coating the blond’s tone.

     There was something DANGEROUSLY beautiful about them in ways that only a poet on his fifth shot of whiskey could summarize. The romanticization of love intertwined with violence and abuse in something he’s known and understands, and it’s something he knows is a distinct flaw with his heart and his mind. Though the truth may be buried beneath the bones he stacks in his closet and the scars he accumulated on his skin from beatings, it’s there. Hidden away like the wisdom of the earth with the notion that perhaps an outbreak wasn’t all that bad—perhaps the earth needed the break from our carbon footprint. It’s there, and at times he can see it, can hold the truth in his hands like a precious bird as he nurses it to take flight, only to crack the bone of its wing each time. He had learned once before from his dad that he was being punished because he LOVED him, and ever since that moment, that’s what Austin attributed love to—pain, violence, and fear. And he supposed that was why he couldn’t love Asher in the way one would expect. He felt none of those things with him, and perhaps it was different for the other. He had always known that he was the violence in the rain, the thunder in the storm, and perhaps Asher was no more than a rod in the center of an empty field. The blond absorbed every hateful comment like a sponge and didn’t allow himself to be broken when a man like Austin NEEDED to break things. 

     Austin wanted to be different, he really did, but no one ever explained to him that he could be. No one ever explained causation versus correlation or that a bad childhood wouldn’t equate to a bad life. No one explained to him that having a terrible father didn’t mean that he needed to obey the drunken laws of a barren wasteland set forth by the man everybody from Sylvester pitied. It’s not that it was anyone’s responsibility, but it wouldn’t have HURT had someone just been there to guide him, to push him to be the best that he could be. Austin’s eyes remained fixated on the center of Asher’s face as he watched the expression contort into an emotion he had not yet seen from the man. A distant, cold touch added to those icy blue eyes. There was something UNDENIABLY different about this Asher. Yes, there were bruises, but something told him that these were more than the mark of a careless raider that wanted to prove a point. For a moment, his gaze softened, harsh lines on his face rounding out. That didn’t last too long, however. After his perceived truth of what could have happened to Asher, the anger returned like a child trying morsels of dark chocolate for the first time—bitter and indignant over the LIE of it being some sweet, delectable candy. He wanted to ask, but something was holding him back. Something that didn’t want to cross the line into friendship or anything deeper than a past fling. Was it selfish ? Absolutely. But was it in his best interest ? Of course. He didn’t want to be the one to make a MONSTER out of Asher. He was poisoned tea being handled by the United Kingdom’s finest, beckoning the other to just take a taste. He couldn’t do that to Asher, couldn’t allow him to see how bad he truly was. 

     ❝ Oh, like it’s MY job to help you track down your Russian lover ? ❞ Austin scoffed with a roll of his eyes. That was the problem, wasn’t it ? It wasn’t just because of the accusations and insults that were thrown at his sister, it was also the reason for the visit. Asher should have KNOWN that Austin wasn’t going to hold his hand and walk him through the snow to find Alexi. He should have known the answer, and shouldn’t have expected shit from Austin. Expecting anything from in general set the bar far too high, and only led to disappointment. Austin watched Asher’s INTIMIDATION tactics with a careful eye, but it wasn’t the act of having his teeth bared that caught his attention. No, it was the words he spoke, the clear hit towards Austin’s own issues that hit close to home. He felt like screaming his lungs out, throwing a tantrum. Asher didn’t KNOW him. He didn’t know why he did the things he did or why he was so aggressive. If he had, then maybe he’d understand it. However, Austin did not need the empathy or pity, so he kept his past to himself, sewing it into his heart so that no one could ever find it—and if they wanted to, they’d have to REALLY tear him apart to find them. The redhead swallowed hard, eye twitching ever so slightly with unreleased fury. ❝ Listen here, you fuckin’ British brat, ❞ He began, stepping forward and walking Asher down the stairs of his trailer, gun still pointed. ❝ You don’t KNOW me, you don’t know my sister, and you don’t know where we come from. ❞ He took a deep breath, trying his hardest to not explode into a fiery rage. ❝ You have no idea what a barbarian is, ‘nd if you think I’m one, then that just shows how little you know. You’re in for a pretty BRUTAL reality check. ❞

     Hurt. There was definitely hurt somewhere in those words, though, admittedly, they may have lost their meaning behind all the SHAKING. It was silly to say, and even sillier to think, but a part of Austin was deeply hurt by the accusation. Again, he was always being told who he was, never what he could be. In Sylvester, West Virginia, Little Austin Poe Jr. was no more than a household name used as an example to describe the damned. The wretched souls that were bound to live a life of MISERY, Austin found his place in hell before the world became synonymous with danger. He didn’t want to be like that, but he felt he had no choice. He had to beat up those kids on the playground. He had to steal that money and break into his neighbor’s house to try and get enough to leave his dad. He had to shoot his dad in the head once he attempted to drag him down with him. He had to get used to people leaving him and grow a thick layer of skin to prevent people from even getting inside his mind in the first place. He didn’t have OPTIONS—not like how he envisioned Asher’s previous life to have been like. As the young man continued to think about this, he could feel his chest tighten and his stomach curled with nausea. 

                                                                 NO CHOICE. 

     The words haunted him like a death sentence hanging over his head—a nasty game of hangman in which he was was letter away from certain death. He hated this feeling, especially when the death was not on a physical plane, but an emotional one. The death of a relationship that never was and a seed of immeasurable ANGER filled him like a water balloon. Any sharp edge would rip away at the latex causing a rupture. He was close, he could feel it, and the more he sat with it, the more he HATED what he was feeling. He hated that a man of Asher’s build could hurt him in such a way, could hold such power over him. He was disappointed with himself for allowing it to happen, letting this little blond saunter in and out of his life and cause such damage. It wasn’t HIS fault. It couldn’t be, especially not when his whole childhood was spent playing the blame game and being on the wrong end of a fist of a broken bottle. It had to be Austin’s fault because HE was the screwup, the fuck up. The more he let it marinate in his head, the more he began to get worked up, and his issues seeped through the cracks of his fortress. His focus on Asher slowly dwindled down as his grip on his gun loosened, and in a spur of the moment decision, he flipped the shotgun so the recoil pad was pointed towards Asher’s face. In one swift movement, he used the end to butt the other is the face—not hard enough to BREAK it, but definitely hard enough to draw blood. 

[amentias-blog1]

                       ↠ HELLSTATE TASK 003. fact of being

GENERAL INFO !

Name: Arthur Powlette

Age: Thirty-seven

Marital Status: Married

Alliance: House of Littus

Job: Armorer

FC: Sam Heughan

BACKGROUND TIDBITS !

Triggers: 

Arthur Powlette was born to a happy family. His father was a well-known militant in high command, and his mother was a military healer. It wasn’t long before Arthur was no longer an only child, and he welcomed Cassandra Powlette with open arms. 

Unlike his father, who was, at times, no more than a series of frowns and harsh words, Arthur was a kind, benevolent soul. That is, up until his mother died. After that, his father began drinking, and once he started, he never stopped. Within a few years, he drunk himself into his grave. 

Being left alone, Arthur had to learn how to grow up fast. He took care of Cassandra and did his best to ensure that she was happy. He also spent his free time training her and teaching her everything that he knew. 

Moving forward into adulthood, Arthur entered the military. He moved up quickly, eventually reaching the title of Military Commander. For a while, this kept him content. However, after sustaining an injury, Arthur was forced to reevaluate some choices. 

He passed the torch to his little sister, giving her the title and stepping down. It was supposed to be a temporary change, but once it was in action, he never went back. 

Because his title had been Commander Powlette, the transition from him to his sister was easy. This was partly due to the fact that they too called her Commander Powlette, and therefore, many people outside of the House of Littus went forward still thinking that Arthur was their commander. 

CONNECTIONS AND PLOTS !

Family: Cassandra Powlette Friends: Enemies:

Wife // CLOSED

For this plot, I would prefer someone who currently identifies with the House of Littus. This means that they can originally be from a different place, but in the end, should be with Littus. I would prefer a female muse who is between the ages of 28-37 years of age as well! As for the nature of their relationship, I am open to anything. 

Taken by: Oriana Powlette

Adoptive Child // OPEN

In this event, Arthur is much more kind and benevolent. He’s still a stubborn, sneaky bastard, but he is kinder and not an asshole. He also has the tendency to want to take others under his wing, especially those who may need it. This would be someone between the ages of 10-25 years old and he would be an almost paternal figure. He would allow them to stay in his house, he would provide food, and give them clothing. 

Childhood Friend // OPEN

The muse should be around his age, and would preferably have been from a DIFFERENT house. In this, they would have had an innocent friendship free of any prejudices and stereotypes. Whether or not their friendship is still like that is up to the plotting, but I think it would be interesting to have had some sort of fallout. 

Your Highness // CLOSED

A close friend and confidant, his king/queen is perhaps one of his closest friends. A loyal servant and friend, Arthur would do anything to protect them. He often is seen hanging around them, picking up extra work and contributing to their group. 

Taken by: Sapphira Draeco

[amentias-blog1]

( rosyrosalie. )

It was a wary, and not an aggressive reluctance, that slowed her movements. Eventually, she did as he told her to. He had sounded less threatening, and more irritated with her this time. Rose preferred he thought her a nuisance over quarry. She lowered her tense arm, and the knife came to rest beside her thigh. It was a concession, albeit a small one. The girl figured that, if he intended to pounce, she might have time enough to raise the weapon again. Maybe she wouldn’t. Given the odds, it didn’t much matter.

With some courage, Rose moved a little more. She got her foot out of the dark water, and sidled to her right. As she stepped, her eyes (which too often gave much away,) wouldn’t leave Austin. After all, his own dark, hardened gaze troubled her. What had he seen, or done, to merit a look like that? Rose could hardly imagine.

She knew that these were times when people did awful things and thrived. When there had been order, there had been less need or opportunity to behave ‘badly,’ as it were. Rose had witnessed only petty unkindness, back then. She missed the days of bite-sized malice, of egged houses and smashed pumpkins. To be fair, she had yet to see one living man kill another outright; but she had seen as good as. Now, people were selfish, hedonistic, and cruel. While Rose could reasonably be called an optimist, she couldn’t help but think the worst of strangers. It was safer to think that way. A little safer, at least. That said, she could also be accused of warming to strangers too quickly. Some friendliness was all it took, with her.

Rose had yet to learn that friendliness shouldn’t always be associated with safety, or vice versa. If she thought about it consciously, she might evade pain in future. There were other things to think about, though. Useless things, sometimes, like family and home. Thinking about those faraway and ancient figments did her little good. Still, she couldn’t help it. Her heart whined for an impossible safety across the sea.

Rose didn’t say anything. Her gaze flickered to her fallen water bottle, and back to Austin again. She was still thirsty.

     With time, the weapon was lowered, but each second that it wasn’t FILLED his veins with annoyance. It picked away at his veins and threatened to bleed through his skin. However, once it was done, he felt the irritation flow away along with it, leaving Austin with the resounding EMPTINESS that often filled him instead. The truth was, he didn’t know what to do. Not just with this situation, but with everything. He found himself contemplating survival and compassion, QUESTIONING on whether or not it was even possible to balance the two. 

    Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. 

     The phrase remained FRESH in his mind despite the fact that he had first heard it nearly fifteen years prior. His father had taken him hunting and refused to help him out with much, telling him that phrase repeatedly. He could laugh at it now, once he realized that his father really hadn’t even taught him all that much. Most of what he learned was through trial and error, a series of mistakes toppled on one after the other. He had HOPED that it gave him enough wisdom to know what to do, to make snappy decisions about whether or not he would help the person standing before him. 

     ❝ You look like shit, ❞ He muttered under his breath. It was just an OBSERVATION, not necessarily there to provoke anger or insecurity. Eventually, he decided the help the girl in SOME way. Eyes narrowed at her, tentatively watching her movements as he slowly swung his backpack to his side. He unzipped it, grabbing the FIRST item he felt and pulling it out. Nine times out of ten, there was something of use when he did it—whether it be food, water, a knife, of first aid, there was ALWAYS something. This time, it was a homemade protein bar he had scavenged from a camp packaged in a simple plastic bag. 

     Fingers held onto the bar, the aroma of the oats and hint of chocolate still prevalent. A part of him had been looking forward to eating something that WASN’T shitty, but the other part of him didn’t really care all that much. He let out a sigh, shaking his head before he zipped his bag up and took a step closer to the girl, offering it with his hand out. 

    ❝ You need it more than me. ❞ It wasn’t necessarily true. It had only been a month since his near-death experience of falling out of a two-story window, and his back was paying for it dearly. Austin’ ability to hunt with the same enthusiasm he once had was even TARNISHED in the process of recovery. Still, he needed to remember the kindness that was shown to him in that moment—the survivor that killed the raider before he could kill Austin. The way she REFUSED to leave him alone and carried him back to her hideout. That was the kindness he always wanted to embody, but never could.

[amentias-blog1]

If you receive this you make somebody happy. Go on anon and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get back even better.♡

i DONT KNOW WHO SENT THIS BUT IS THIS BCS OF THE THING I POSTED IN THE OOC BCS AUSTIN IS THE ONLY ONE THAT GOT THIS MESSAGE AND I LAUGHED SO HARD AND OMFG I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH

[tenaciousquaintrellearchive-dea]

MUSE FAVS.

[amentias-blog1]

tenaciousquaintrellearchive-dea:

( scent: smoke ( season: winter ( flower: sanguinaria canadensis ( book: the bible  ( stone: heliotrope ( genre: alternative rock ( song: paint it black by the rolling stones ( article of clothing: a plaid shirt he stole from his dad ( sleeping position: yearner

[amentias-blog1]

( rosyrosalie. )

Rose took trembling, but quiet breaths. Her light blue eyes tried (in vain,) to mask her fear with something harder. She would have liked to run, but was in no position to; the rip in her side was burning, and besides, he appeared much faster than she. Her only option was the knife, so she kept it up. Actually, her grip on it tightened after he spoke.

No, of course not. She didn’t want to fight in the slightest. In point of fact, Rose had never in her entire, short life been ‘up for a fight.’ She wasn’t trained, strong, or even confrontational. Still, that didn’t mean Austin wouldn’t find some fight in her, if he pressed for it. He might have been willing and able to do whatever he pleased, but she wouldn’t be complicit in it. She would stab and scratch and scream. If that made it all the worse for her, then that’s what it did. Maybe Rose had thought it through. Maybe she hadn’t. It was difficult to say.

He looked young, she thought. He obviously wasn’t as young as she was, but his sharp face still spoke of youth. He looked like the sort she used to see on campus; the sort that had loud, pleasant conversations on the stone steps leading to the university centre, or that leaned against ivy-covered stone beside a pretty girl.

Austin wasn’t that boy. Those boys didn’t exist anymore. In their stead were people like him, who had carved for themselves, Rose imagined, ruthless souls. It was possible that she was misinterpreting him, but who could blame her? This world did demand a certain cynicism. His posture and tone were threatening, so she would see him as a threat.

“I don’t ha–… have any food, or – supplies, or anything useful at all. Nothing.” She spoke through her teeth. There was a lot of fear, but feral anger soused her words too. “Just leave me al-l-lone.”

     A roll of his eyes followed her rigid stance, BOREDOM flowing through his veins. Perhaps if they had met just a week or two earlier, he may have had more COMPASSION right off the bat. However, much of that side of him felt so distant from who he had become. In the past week, he had acted on pure instinct alone, and unfortunately, his instincts were not known to be kind or GENEROUS. In fact, his natural instincts were the complete opposite of that. 

     But to say that Austin was HEARTLESS would be a far-fetched claim. He had one, somewhere deep beneath the rubble. It was there, but whether he chose to use it was always a spur of the moment decision. For a guy such as Austin—a boy bred on PASSION & ANGER—her was rather gentle at times. One would even call him soft. But that side of him ? Well, again, it was a difficult place to reach, and his willingness to get there was often FICKLE. 

     ❝ I ain’t here to ROB you or anythin’, ❞ Austin muttered. Of course, she had nothing. This was a girl who was just seconds ago, on the ground, desperately drinking water and throwing up. It was evident that she was without a decent water source, and basing his judgments on her appearance alone, it was also clear that her health and weight were depleting. He wondered how far away from DEATH she was. 

     ANYWAYS, Austin was not the type to pick on the weak. At least, not anymore. If you looked deep into his past, you’d find a series of bullying cases, all labeled with Austin as the perpetrator. But that was the past, and back then, he truly felt like he had no CHOICE in the matter. It was how he learned about true power, and once he got a taste for it, he began placing his anger with the boys who stood on top of the playground like KINGS. It didn’t take long before he had formed his own team of underdogs—taught them to fight like his sister had once taught him. 

     ❝ Lower that thing, ❞ The redhead requested, finger pointing at her knife. This time, his words felt LESS threatening, but there was still a distinct edge to them that raised the all-too-familiar question of: or else what ? Well, there was no clear answer for it, and Austin PROBABLY wouldn’t do anything if she chose not to. In fact, he would most likely walk away and possibly leave her to die, but none of that needed to be said. 

[amentias-blog1]

conglomeresque:

YOUR STEREOTYPICAL MASCULINE SIDE

i love hoodies. i love shorts. dogs are better than cats. it’s hilarious when people get hurt. shopping is torture. sad movies suck. i own a car racing game. i played with hot wheels cars as a kid. at some point in time i wanted to be a fire fighter. i owned a ds, ps2, n64, or sega. i used to be obsessed with power rangers. i have watched sports on tv. gory movies are cool. i go to dad for advice. i own like a trillion baseball caps. i used to collect hockey or baseball cards. baggy sweats are cool to wear. it’s kinda weird to have sleepovers with a bunch of people. green, black, red, blue, or silver is one of my favorite colors. i love to go crazy and not care what people think. sports are fun. i talk with food in my mouth. i sleep with my socks on at night. i have fished at least once.

YOUR STEREOTYPICAL FEMININE SIDE

i love to shop. i wear eyeliner. i wear the color pink. i go to mom to talk. i consider cheerleading a sport. i hate wearing the color black. i like going to the mall. i like getting manicures and/or pedicures. i like wearing jewelry. i cried watching the notebook. dresses are a big part of my wardrobe. shopping is one of my favorite hobbies. i don’t like the movie star wars. i am/was in gymnastics. it takes me around one hour to shower, get dressed, and make-up. i smile a lot more than i should. i have more than 10 pairs of shoes. i care about what i look like. i like wearing dresses when i can. i like wearing high heel shoes. i used to play with dolls as little kid. i like putting make-up on others. i like being the star of everything.

APPEARANCE

i am shorter than 5’5”. i have scars. i tan easily. i wish my hair was a different color. i have friends who have never seen my natural hair color. i have a tattoo. i am self-conscious about my appearance. i’ve had/have braces. i’ve been told i’m attractive by a complete stranger. i have more than two piercings. i have/had piercings in places besides my ears.

EXPERIENCES

i’ve gotten lost in my city. i’ve seen a shooting star. i’ve wished on a shooting star. i’ve seen a meteor shower. i’ve gone out in public in my pajamas. i’ve pushed all the buttons on an elevator. i’ve kicked a guy where it hurts. i’ve been to a casino. i’ve been skydiving. i’ve gone skinny-dipping. i’ve drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour. i’ve crashed a car. i’ve been skiing. i’ve been in a musical. i’ve caught a snowflake or snow on my tongue. i’ve seen the northern lights. i’ve sat on a rooftop at night. i’ve played a prank on someone. i’ve ridden in a taxi. i’ve seen the rocky horror picture show. i’ve eaten sushi. i’ve been snowboarding.

HONESTY/CRIME

i’ve done something i promised someone else i wouldn’t. i’ve done something i promised myself i wouldn’t. i’ve snuck out. i’ve lied to my parents about where i am. i’ve cheated while playing a game. i’ve ran a red light. i’ve witnessed a crime. i’ve been in a fist fight. i’ve been arrested.

DEATH AND SUICIDE

i’m afraid of dying. i hate funerals. i’ve seen someone/something dying. someone close to me has attempted/committed suicide. i’ve thought about death and dying. i’ve contemplated suicide. i’ve written a eulogy for myself. i’ve had a near-death experience.

RANDOM

i can sing well. i’ve stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant. i open up to others easily. i watch the news. i don’t kill bugs. i sing in the shower. i am a morning person. i paid for a cell phone ring tone. i am a sports fanatic. i twirl my hair. i care about grammar. i’ve copied more than 30 cds in a day. i bake well. my favorite color is either white, yellow, pink, red, blue, black, purple, or orange. i would wear pajamas to school. i like martha stewart. i know how to shoot a gun. i laugh at my own jokes. i eat fast food weekly. i’ve not turned anything in and still got an a in a certain class. i can’t sleep if there is a spider/cockroach in the room. i am ticklish. i love white chocolate. i bite my nails. i’m good at remembering faces. i’m good at remembering names. i’m good at remembering dates. i honestly have no idea what i want to do for the rest of my life.

[amentias-blog1]

( rosyrosalie. )

Rose had run out of food three days ago. She had run out of water yesterday.

What could be called a ‘sincere thirst’ came at midday. Since then, it had steadily grown more sincere. It was quite bearable until it wasn’t. Now, that thirst had become the most painful, miserable longing imaginable. Her throat and mouth were raw, as though she had swallowed several fistfuls of sand. Every breath wanted to escape her throat as a cry for help.

In this dark, the lake didn’t look like a lake. It looked like a black, shivering mirror coated sparsely with strips of moonlight. Rose stumbled and sprinted toward the water before falling to her knees by it. Clumsily, she pulled a dented metal bottle from her backpack. She plunged the bottle into the water, then pulled it up to her mouth and drank the whole thing. Repeating the process, she downed a second litre. Rose tried to do this a third time, but instead vomited a great deal of water into the grass.

For a minute, the young girl remained keeled over. She listened to the sound of her own staggered breathing. She listened to the sound of the water, and the crickets chirping. She wondered how many crickets were out there in the tall grass. She wondered if they were ready for winter. She wondered if the ants would share their food, if the crickets had spent their sunny days lounging. 

Slowly, Rose pulled herself up and crossed her legs. She filled the bottle in the lake again and brought it to her lips. This time, she took small swallows of water.

A branch snapped behind her, and Rose thrust herself to her feet. Turning around, she saw someone living. In her fright, she stepped back and into the water. Her foot and ankle were suddenly submerged. Dropping the bottle, she pulled the bowie knife from her belt and pointed it at the stranger. Her arm was bent and rigid, but her hand shook. “Stay back– … from me.”

     Austin had been alone, but he hadn’t chosen to be that way. Not in this moment, at least. No, right now, he was still searching. Searching for his sister, his friends, ANYONE to pass the time with. It wasn’t long before he stumbled across the figure of another. 

     A look of both INTRIGUE & DISGUST crossed his features as he stumbled upon the scene. A young girl, downing one bottle of water after another, only to regurgitate it all over the grass. He had been there once or twice before; both times were a result of the notorious three-month drinking binge his father had been on. His sister had recently left them, and his father had failed to remember to pay any bills. Austin’s pride had blinded him to the point where he REFUSED the help that was offered to him, and he was slowly dying. 

     There was a learning curve that came along with those memories—learning when to have pride, and learning when he should allow others to help him. It was difficult, and as he slowly stepped closer, he contemplated which side he now stood on. Would he help this girl, or would he continue to act CHILDISHLY ? 

     Heavy boots snapped a twig beneath his weight. Truthfully, he had already begun to BELITTLE himself for making such a dumb mistake, but on the outside, he remained calm & collected, as he always did. 

     STEADY HANDS refused to make any sudden movements—not for the fear of death, but for the lack of terror he felt towards the knife-wielding girl. He had faced men whose glare alone could KILL, moreover, he had been raised by one of those men. He was raised in fear, adrenaline, and terror, and consequently, not much scared him these days. 

     ❝ I think you’re better off if you just put that knife down, ❞ Austin WARNED—though, as always, his daunting figure and harsh voice found a way to make this warning sound THREATENING. ❝ Unless, of course, you’re up for a fight. But somethin’ tells me you ain’t exactly in the best shape for that. ❞

[memes4u]

Tell me your favourite thing about my OC!

[amentias-blog1]

( nvrcissistic. )

Asher had to bloody admit, even for this being the apocalypse, this was the worst several weeks he’d had in his entire damned life. First he’d lost Alexi. The man had left as if he’d planned to return.. but that hadn’t been the case. And Asher had waited, he had. Days, weeks, bloody months, but after months of perking at the sound of Alexi’s door opening and scowling at new patrons of their home and getting worse and worse at his job due to distraction, he’d decided to take it into his own hands. Only, perhaps he hadn’t gone the right way about that. Austin.. was a tracker. He knew that much, he’d seen the man in action, he could track and he was good at it. But Asher apparently hadn’t taken into consideration whether or not the redhead was willing to. Not that it mattered, considering Asher had gone and done the rare thing of stuffing his foot in his mouth with insulting the redhead he was nearly certain Alexi had gone after. How the hell was he supposed to know that crazy girl was Austin’s sister?

Asher paused in his exhausted walk toward the familiar trailer as his features twisted into a grimace. Okay well.. that was his fault as well he could suppose. There.. were blatant signs. Considering the two were nearly the exact fucking same on most accounts.

But after Austin had literally laid hands on him, demanded he fuck off, he said fine. He decided to distract himself with someone since everyone else in his life seemed uninterested in his presence. Only.. that hadn’t worked out either. Several weeks later and nothing to show for that little tryst other than a black eye and bruises and a rumbling stomach from travelling all the way back to Cheyenne with nearly nothing. He didn’t want to bother those at the Medical Center until he had something to bring back with him.. and the only other person he knew was the redhead who’d basically told him to leave in the first place.

And yet here he was, staring up at the trailer.

After several long moments of agonizing, of building up the nerve, Asher steeled his jaw and gave the door several short raps. He nearly gave up, assuming he was being ignored, before the door flung open and Asher came face to face with the familiar freckled features of Austin, and an intimidating.. massive shotgun. Swallowing dryly, Asher stood in the darkness that cast shadows over his features, hoping they’d cast shadows over the bloody bruises too. “My lord, Red.” He stated, tone a forced casual sound. “I know I insulted your sister.. but shooting me’s a little bit overkill, don’t you think?”

     Eyes narrowed at the man, the UNMISTAKABLE, piercing glare of a Poe. He had mastered it long ago, starting from the time that some asshole on the playground shoved him to the floor and demanded that he hand over his lunch money. Such a cliché, but then again, his whole life was one. Austin had given him the same glare he now gave Asher, a WARNING to his opponent that would convey more emotion than any slew of curse words ever could. But then again, this was Asher, and Austin’s version of intelligent didn’t coincide with this man. He was smart, but not in a way that Austin could appreciate or even agree with. In his eyes, if Asher was so smart, he would have been able to put two and two together and REALIZE that Cassidy Poe was his fucking sister, and he would not stand for any disrespect aimed towards her. Even if it was a stupid theory about her running off with that Russian or whatever his conspiracy theory was. It didn’t matter to him because, in the end, family was family, and he was not going to allow him to speak ill of her—especially not when she had been the first one to start the tradition of beating up Austin’s enemies and bullies. 

     ❝ You better back the fuck up before I pull the trigger and MURDER you, ❞ Austin snarled with that same bite he used when he first met Asher. ❝ You ain’t as charmin’ as you think you are, so lose that goddamn smug attitude, ❞ He demanded, REFUSING to lower his weapon. The redhead took a step forward, pressed the barrel of the gun deeper into the man’s chest. It wasn’t until then that his eyes began to narrow in on his features more closely—the darkness surrounding his eye could only be explained by BRUISING, and while his need to beat the absolute shit out of Asher had dulled slightly, the overwhelming ache to kill the little shit for leaving him was still very much alive. Nevertheless, the corners of his lips tugged downwards in CLEAR disappointment. He had never been a fan of having another’s sloppy seconds. Even as a kid, beating up another guy who just had his ass handed to him never seemed to have the same appeal as a guy whose skin was not yet bruised. Perhaps it was the sadist within him. ❝ And clearly, I ain’t the only one that thinks that, ❞ He mumbled under his breath, head nodding to his black eye. ❝ Nice shiner. Did the Russian do that to ya ? What was his name again ? Alex or whatever ? ❞ With each question, his voice grew slower, dragging out each syllable in faux-contemplation as an attempt to get under Asher’s skin. Of course, Austin knew that the man did have a higher tolerance than he did—though, perhaps it was just because Asher had a natural way of being the most intolerable human alive. 

[amentias-blog1]

( ofhcstility. )

She may have been drunk. Her periphery may have still been blurry and her reaction time a modicum slower than it usually was. But the thing about that was, Cassidy Poe had always been fast. She’d always been sharp in wit and reaction and it had never been her instincts she’d tried to dull with the whiskey or the drugs. But the problem was, they still slowed her down in some way. Though her body hunched over instinctively, red hair falling forward to partially conceal her features, there was a slight delay. One that wouldn’t usually be noticeable to someone who didn’t spend their entire lives with the redhead and her ability to disappear into the woods when she neded to. But it was still there nonetheless. Her mouth felt like cotton and as she gave a dry, raspy swallow, her eyes narrowed in an attempt to focus on the flash of movement in the short distance away.

Austin’s voice, that familiar brusque.. raspy snarl. It did something to Cassidy immediately. First, her shoulders slumped and her eyes pressed closed in a sharp.. stark relief at the realization that not only was her brother safe, but he was here with her. In the realization that he wasn’t in that building- a fear she hadn’t even realized she’d had until she caught the flare of his own hair in the fire’s light. And somewhere in the back of her mind, the rising confusion that had hit her when he’d stormed off with the drugs she’d given him. He hadn’t seemed happy about her offering.. shit. In fact he’d seemed, she didn’t know. Furious, upset, hurt? 

She couldn’t read him as she watched the back of him storm away. As she’d watched his expression twist into something unfathomable as he snatched the baggies away from her. That confusion, even that trepidation increased tenfold as he stepped closer, threw out that comment about the box-cutter. She stared for a minute, taking him in. His injuries looked better thank fuck, and for a moment, her lips twisted into a wry smile as she shrugged.

“Yeah I was fresh the fuck out of crow-bars and machine guns..” She trailed off, her gaze shifting from Austin to the glow of the flames as her shoulders straightened. The relief she’d felt at the sight of her brother, safe and in one piece, slowly shifted. A curiosity almost, as her gaze shifted from the fire, back to Austin. She hadn’t been in town the last few hours, the pharmacy having been her last stop after hunting.. and she didn’t know about the slew of masked shitheads wandering around starting shit. As the smoke began to tinge the air, Cassidy straightened, had Austin done that? It wasn’t like it would be the first time he’d burned something down.. then again, given her past she couldn’t really talk either. Her fingers lowered to the flask hooked into her belt but paused, for some reason a hesitance coming over her at drinking in front of him, not quite understanding why.

Her hand hovered there for a moment, before clenching into a fist and pushing harshly through tangled red hair instead. Lips parted, she seemed to want to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. She hadn’t seen him since he’d stormed off from her, cussing up a storm. Hadn’t spoken to him, hadn’t been able to understand what had pissed him off to such an extent. She’d wanted to go after him, when he had been so wounded. Wanted to make sure he was ok, that he was safe, that he’d fucking survive, She’d wanted to keep him breathing.. but she knew goddamned well that she wasn’t much more to him than another festering wound. Shit, she wasn’t much more than that to herself. So she’d given him space. Without even thinking, she’d abandoned her reach for the weapon as well as she stepped forward. “…The fuck went down over there?” She asked, voice a bit louder as her thumb jerked toward the flames. It wasn’t an accusation by any means, but something about her words seemed as if she thought he might be the one to know.

     ❝ How charming, ❞ He muttered to himself with an instinctual roll of his eyes. A part of him was still ANGRY over what had happened the last time they saw each other. It had happened only hours after he had been VICIOUSLY attacked by a raider and graciously saved by Italia—that alone was a difficult thing to forget about, and even though his guardian angel was nowhere to be seen, something did tell him that it wouldn’t be a memory that would SLIP away from his mind. Despite how truly traumatic the whole ordeal was—and it was indeed traumatic—Austin held the moment close to his heart, choosing to remember it as the day someone cared enough to SAVE him. It almost brought a smile to his face just thinking about it, but the corners of his lips remained a straight line, refusing to break the stoic expression he wore so well. & perhaps, that was exactly why he had reacted to his sister’s offer in such a volatile manner ( though, he wasn’t even sure is volatile was the right word ). He was tired, injured, and most importantly, VULNERABLE. He replayed that memory in his head over and over again, wondering if perhaps it was he who was in the wrong. She had, after all, offered to help in the ONLY way she knew how—DRUGS. But still, that didn’t denote the emotions that accompanied the image of seeing his sister, fists full of weed and pills. He didn’t even want to imagine what would have happened if he had chosen to leave those things in her possession—death, perhaps ? He had wished that on her earlier that year, and he still REGRETTED doing so. 

     Still, it could have gone much, much worse. He knew that from the experiences he shared with his father. Memories in which alcohol had been offered up to him as a cure to all of his troubles. Of course, how could even be considered a CURE ? Austin had always questioned that, wondered how such a harmful concoction could pose the notion of taking away one’s problems when in the long run, it only caused MORE. It was a catch-22, he supposed—also ? He hadn’t kept them either. As soon as he had walked away from the situation, the pills and weed that she had handed him were DESTROYED. Crushed under the weight of heavy boots and washed away by the rain that soon followed, it was the only way he could assure himself that he had done his part, just as he always had. & throughout his life—after Cassidy Poe decided to LEAVE him, of course—Austin spent his days going from bar to bar, searching for his father. A child, entering a damn bar to carry his own father home with no help from his neighbors or his friends. He was just a kid, being FORCED into the role of an adult—nothing more than that. Taxes, paychecks, groceries—all of it was handled by him, and he could remember the FIRST time his father realized that Austin had been hiding his paychecks. Drunken slurs and heavy fists filled that night, marking his actions as an UNFORGIVABLE sin, no matter how good his intentions had been. It was because of that pain that accompanied the notion of drugs that Austin would NEVER tell anyone that he cried each time he had to destroy his father’s stash. It was because of that pain that he PROMISED himself that Cassidy would never know about that either, and would never know the emotional toll that came with destroying her stash as well.

    ❝ Raiders, I think, ❞ Austin responded, gaze turning to the GLORIOUS blaze of fire that had been laid out across the city. ❝ They put on masks and shit. Kinda like how I used to put on masks right before Halloween and set off firecrackers across town. ❞ It was one of the VERY FEW good memories he had left. They were numbered so low that he could count them all on his hands—the best memories were the days he spent organizing fight clubs in the woods with Elijah, of course. ❝ Except they used real fire, not firecrackers. ❞ Austin was one destructive fucker, but he would never release such SENSELESS acts of violence upon those who did not deserve it. Okay, perhaps in the past he would have, but it was something he was trying to move past and learn from. Gaze scanned over his sister carefully, searching for any injuries, but as always, there was nothing she couldn’t handle. Austin knew first-hand of his sister’s ability to hold her own in a fight—after all, she had been his teacher at one point. 

     It wasn’t until a few moments after he grew SILENT that he began to realize that he hadn’t spoken this many words since, well, since Lola and Gabrielle. Granted, his words may not have been KIND, but they were still words, and he knew that at least Lola was able to decipher his cryptic way of communication in which ‘ go away ’ often meant ‘ please don’t leave me. ’ & that’s when he noticed it. Between the silence and his detail-oriented gaze, Austin slowly began to pick up on the signs. He had seen her drunk once or twice as a kid, but nothing felt like it could reach beyond the stereotypical phase of teenage rebellion. This, however, felt different. In a way, it felt familiar, but again, not because it reminded him of the Cassidy he once knew. It was more because he could now pick out all the ways in which his sister reminded him of their FATHER—and it wasn’t just that world-famous Poe mean streak. It delved into possible alcoholism, or at the very least, drug abuse, and it beckoned the all-too-possible question: was she fucking drunk ? As soon as his mind made the connection, there was a hint of disappointment that glistened in his eyes, the downcast shake of his head that would adequately give Cassidy a hint as to WHAT he was feeling. 

[eltonhjohn]

[mac-mcdonald]

[amentias-blog1]

❝ ⸻  @nvrcissistic

     EVERYONE LEFT—like the promise of what goes up must come down, Austin had learned that what comes into his life, must leave in the end. There could be no promise of FOREVER when forever was not certain, and he had come to accept this notion. He had learned to keep people at a distance; close enough to see, but just far enough so he couldn’t feel their skin against him, be WRAPPED up in a hug meant to soothe—not that he’d ever truly experienced that.

     With Italia nowhere to be seen, Austin spent most of his time in the confines of his own trailer, fingers taking apart gun after gun and cleaning them out. Every so often, his gaze would roam out the window, desperately searching for SOMETHING to cling to—perhaps Lola, Italia, or Gabrielle would come back to him once again. He could only PRAY that somewhere out there, all three of them were okay, surviving. It was enough for him to push it to the back of his mind just far enough so he couldn’t reach it at a moment’s notice, but close enough for him to remember and form the grudges of a man that CARED far more than he should have—a dreadful habit that he needed to break. 

     Ears perked up at the sound of KNOCKING on his door, eyes narrowing in confusion. Through his window, he could only see the silhouette of another, nothing more. No features were visible, leaving an UNEASY feeling to settle in his stomach. He quickly rushed to put his shotgun back together, maneuvering his way from the back of his trailer to the front. Austin swung the door open, gun pointed and ready to shoot at a moment’s notice, only to see the FAMILIAR face of a man who he believed to be DEAD. 

[wariest]

happy halloween, @revenios !

[amentias-blog1]

( ofhcstility. )

She’d been out hunting. Well, not actually hunting considering there wasn’t much more game in Cheyenne these days than underfed rabbits and stray dogs, but she’d gotten herself a decent catch in terms of a handfull of canned food and medicine from a still standing Walgreens. That had been when it had happened. She smelled it before she saw it, thick and heavy and suffocating in the air, and as her head turned toward the orange flare of flames, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in realization that this wasn’t a normal, randomized fire. And at the crackling of a branch behind her, her head jerked sharply to the side.

Cassidy Poe sure as shit wasn’t fucking alone. Shoulders hunching, her fingers darted to her back pocket, curling around an industrial box-cutter she so often hid there as her head turned. Hair just as wild and red as the fire’s light so many miles away. “Who the fuck’s out there?”

     FULL TRANSPARENCY—Austin had half-expected to run into Cassidy, running around with those men and causing a bit of her on destruction. He loved her with NEARLY every fiber of his being—the parts that didn’t love her still holding onto the bitterness of being the one left behind, the undeniable scars of abandonment that stretched over freckles skin as a physical manifestation of another’s frustrations and sorrow for a daughter that never came back. Nevertheless, he loved her, and he WORRIED more than anything. Since their last conversation, all he could think about was the drugs that she handed to him, for what felt like a peace offering, and the vague words she used to describe just WHERE she had been and what had happened to her. The fact of the matter was that Austin was anxious over his sister’s whereabouts. 

     This, of course, led the ultimate search for Cassidy Poe, an effort that he downright REFUSED to let go to waste. He was on guard, as always, gun ready to be fired at a moment’s notice and his knife stowed away in his boot for emergencies. But as soon as he heard the familiar voice of his sister, all was well—at least, just for that moment, it was. He let out a sigh of relief, happy that she had not skipped out on town, and most importantly, that she was ALIVE. ❝ Hey, cool it ! ❞ He shouted in a hushed tone. An instinctual roll of his eyes followed soon after he stepped closer and noticed her weapon of choice. ❝ Nice box-cutter, ❞ Austin scoffed. 

[apocryphalstories]

People empty me. I have to get away to refill

Charles Bukowski (via apocryphalstories)