It was late; she’d already pointed out the North Star, a little something Caroline had been doing most every night after someone went and told her where it was. Drove Daniel right batty, but now even he knew where that North Star was, and he’d be damned if brief memories of childhood stories didn’t try to creep into his head whenever it got mentioned.
That wasn’t what the siblings were discussing, though.
It was what Caroline preferred to discuss: stars, her roses, the new filly, corn husk dolls…
But Daniel had other plans for this evening, as in: the making of plans.
.. English... manages to straighten up his spine a bit, has him regarding the question a bit like the hound dogs back at home would -- cautiously, curiously -- “Come in?” Who on Earth would want to come in? His inn is an absolute dump, and he’s certainly not staying somewhere he’d assume would bring dames calling at his door.
But, then again, what does he know?“Oh! Oh, yes, yes--”Finally tugged out of that dazed reverie, coughing on the cloud from his cigar instead of the one of confusion he’d been choked up in moments ago: “Yes, come in, of course, I--”
BE A GENTLEMAN, DANIEL ! Soon enough, the door is opened just until the lock catches it, which was entirely accidental, as made obvious by the way he jumped at the sudden catch and clink. The misstep did prove purpose, however, when Daniel was able to finally take a peek at his guest... “You-- you’re the girl from that club, aren’t you?” A finger waggled out in the subtle gap while he further tried to place her, worried she might be a mirage and just disappear if he closes the door prior to confirmation... “The; Toast of Mayfair; yea?”
THOUGHTS; Daniel messes up idioms a LOT
but Caroline loves it too much to correct him & she gets MAD if someone ruins it.
THINGS DANIEL HAS ACTUALLY SAID:
> “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”
> “She ain’t the brightest tool in the shed.”
> “They’re a diamond dozen.”
> “Not the sharpest crayon in the box.”
> “Don’t beat a gift horse in the mouth.”
> “Gotta turn a new cheek.”
> “Can’t get’a leopard to change his stripes.”
> “It ain’t rocket surgery.”
> “Can’t put my tongue on it…”
Multi-Ship & Verse | OC RP | Default Verse: Small Town / Ol’ West
NAME: Daniel Lewis Jackson
AGE: Thirty-Four
STATURE: 5'11" / solid / won’t blow ‘way in a storm
OCCUPATION: Farmer, Loan Shark, Head of the Jackson Family, Voice of Reason.
EDUCATION: Minimal. Dropped out of school at a young age to help on the family farm; learned all he knows from his Papa, The Gentlemen, and the mercy of the land -- both in trade and beyond...
FAMILY: Mother & Father passed away, younger sister who’s more’a headache than anything
Reality: What you make it. || Motive: Self-Preservation.
In His Heart: The weight of the world, the new filly that’d been born a couple of weeks ago, the sight of his horizon when he’s on his front porch, the whiskey waitin’ on him somewhere.
In His Head: That forever growing To-Do list, a headache from the heat, thoughts of supper.
In His Pockets: Twine, tools he likes to have on him in case of ‘Caroline Problems’, a Colt Single Action, a dead dandelion one of the neighbor children gave him for wishin’ on later.
In His Shelves: His father’s old books, the Holy Bible, an array of journals he’s never even tried to read, a child’s Reading Lessons book gifted by a well-meaning friend, the notebook holding dues and debts
BIOGRAPHY ---
When the children exchanged roses, he worried over thorns slicing fingertips; a petal plucked to be loved, a petal plucked to be not, and no matter the final omen decided upon- the kids were only left with the dead bud of a flower as far as he could see. A shame, really. C’est La Vie. But everyone does, indeed need some sort of something, now don’t they? Some found solace in God, Daniel knew what the preacher men did after their time at the pulpit, and was quite certain if The Lord turned a blind eye to them- he likely wasn’t too busy watchin’ in on much of anything, no matter how many Psalms got sung for his pleasure. Pity.
Maybe ignorance is more bliss than he thought...
Back, long ago, before reality had ever managed to come in and bite him: Daniel looked up to his Papa-- aspired to be exactly like him, really, and soon enough after he’d become much more of’a man than boy, he became a rather permanent shadow to his elder. Whether they were working themselves raw to fix up a broken fence or earning calloused fingers from the leather and rope used for their livestock: they were doing it together, and through this comradery they found a respect for each other, and Daniel earned the right to go on along and work himself to the bone without supervision. Papa had even brought him along a few times to meet with the Gentlemen who helped with the books -- which was where Daniel just barely started learning about all the other books Papa had a hand in; the shop owners’, the churches’, the working girls’, their protective fellows at the door, the other farmers’ … as well as all the perks that come with keeping their town run so smoothly, and all the work put into the exchange...
HE WAS DESTINED, Papa would tell him.
And the Gentlemen would agree -- DANIEL WAS PERFECT.
But when the sickness hit, and Papa’s ailments became more than a bellyache and need for rest- Daniel’s role became much less earned and much more necessary. While his sister cared for Papa and maintained company at his bedside; Daniel finally got his wish-- the role depicting him as lead of the family, all laid out upon his broad shoulders. Papa, naturally, still held any final calls and the reigns of their world in his tired hands: but Daniel was given power to execute and finalize, to make decisions he saw fit or best, to handle the finances, to work with The Gentlemen, to gather dues. He’d thought he’d be able to prove himself, to show he’s more than a workhorse and plenty capable of handling BUSINESS, to show his Papa there was no need to worry, that he was ready.
Poor Daniel wasn’t ready, however, for when it all fell to pieces.
After Papa was put to rest on the big hill, darling little sister Caroline cried over permanence. Daniel, on the other hand, grew indifferent towards the thought, and ceased concerning himself over who or what stayed around any more. if people could just disappear and be laid into the dirt– he had no intentions of wasting time moping over it.
Why should he? There were more important things to do. To get done.
& now, he’s got those Gentlemen breathing down his neck
& the townsfolk dropping their gaze when he comes along unexpectedly
not even mentioning all of the books & dues he’s got to start keeping in proper order…
daniel’s Google Doc has been entirely re-vamped !!
notable changes for anyone already familiar with him:
> He can read now. Not well, by any means, but can at least hold his own a bit better than originally considered.
> Instead of being ignorant to it -- Daniel is now active in the ‘business’ his Papa was involved in with ‘ The Gentlemen ’ : light extortion, crime, etc now apply...
> Think of... Amish Mafia ( pretty self-explanatory ) : Papa and The Gentlemen basically assured their very small town was run well, without much need for outside interference or law, by offering ‘protection’ and carrying out ‘decided on’ punishments for those who chose not to live by the guidelines set out -- also provides protection for shop owners, working girls, booze runners, and drug dens so all exchanges / quarrels / general runnings could be watched over.
> ( also, The Gentlemen totally killed off Papa via arsenic poisoning but Daniel has NOT gathered that info for himself yet, and his sister is too ignorant to all of it to know )
> Still taking care of his younger sister, best she’ll let him at least, and still a big ol softy. :)
> He doesn’t like to read. He’s able to, but just slow at it, and letting his mind run off with fairytales and fiction is a waste of time that almost always ends with existential disappointment. He’s rather… resolved with his lot in life, and doesn’t much enjoy thinking about where the grass is greener or the wine is finer. He’s got grass, plenty of it, and fields that require maintenance, and who the hell needs wine when cheap whiskey does the job just fine?
> He’s got a real short temper when it comes to disrespect. Disagreeing or even Arguing is fine, and there’s ways to fight properly– but Daniel just can’t seem to bite his tongue or hold back when he witnesses blatant disrespect towards anyone, really. It’s a low blow, it’s unbecoming, and really only tells him more about the one showin’ it than anything they could be talking about.
> He’s very frugal and rather good with money: a something that came from necessity. He’s got one nice suit and a few good pairs of slacks, but other than that his work clothes can be worn and used to rags before he’ll ever consider getting more– and there’s really no need for fancy anythings when you can’t take a damn thing with you… only exception are for gifts… he’d definitely never spend good money on himself unless it’s a life or death situation (and even then: questionable).
> He loves kids because they’re honest. Adults are shifty, they lie too much, and people just have a way of butting up and against other people too often– children, he’s noticed, are immune to any of those social shenanigans until someone older comes along to infect them with it… Daniel prefers to let kids be kids and discover the world through their own eyes, in their own way, and rather appreciates them for it.
> He can sew rather well. Again: NECESSITY, he hated having to bother his Mama every time one of his work shirts snagged or a knee necessitated patching– so he got Caroline to teach him in exchange for turning a blind eye when she’d sneak out of an evening. He even has a rather rudimentary sewing kit he keeps in his room, right on his dresser, and he’ll never admit it: but he has a handkerchief stashed away that he’s embroidered teensy designs on… gotta kill boredom somehow, why not with a needle and thread?
sun down -- day turns to night
angel's singing, it sound just right ; demon's playing, there ain't no fight
you pray this music will go away ... you pure, old heart
blue trash: don't touch my art, we want it back to how it was at the start
dead on the tracks, why did we depart -- You done?
‘cause you cannot take away what's in our hearts today; what's in our hearts
[ cowboy / loan shark oc | beloved by meg | multi-most & selective for sanity ]
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