[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Manuel Bandeira, from “This Earth, That Sky.”

[healingxinxhell]

a week and she was still here.

she would have been back in the city by now, wanted to be, but her agent reminded her that she needed time to process and be there for the funeral. if the man didn't get her the auditions that he did, she would have argued more with him.

walking through the aisles in the general store, bethany had picked up a box of freshly made cinnamon rolls, trying to remember the last time she had one. she had been on a diet regiment since she'd been in la, though with all that transpired recently, her appetite was not there.

"the best in town," from what she could remember, her head twisting towards the voice. she knew the voice, had met dan at the ranch when he started on her trips back home. bethany didn't know him well like she did others. "you should have them." she handed them out, knowing she wouldn't eat them.

[dan-hart]

"That's a pretty high compliment. Don't tell the bakeries around here." Leaning against the wall, he looked down at the package in her hand. "You gave up pretty easily, for something that is considered the best in town."

He disregarded her outreached hand, shaking his head. "I think you should have them. I can get them anytime I want. You can't."

His comment mildly acknowledged the fact that her being here was out of the norm. It was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. He hated to breathe life into it, but he relented. "I know we don't know each other too well, but if there's anything you need don't be a stranger. Or tell me to get lost. That works too."

[kercsene]

"I'll go with big mistake," she said with a teasing smile. "But less big than if you'd ignored me. I mean, we shared something deep, I feel like we're linking forever now. Axe throwing isn't something I take lightly." If it hadn't already been obvious to Daniel, he would surely realize now how the woman rarely took anything seriously. At least, that was what she wanted to project. The end result was less certain. Olivia just felt it better to keep a certain distance between her and people and that devil may care attitude was all part of it. "See, that's the thing. It's both. You get that salty feeling and suddenly, sugar. I'm willing to share this last bag but now that I'll wrestle you if needed on future ones."

[dan-hart]

"We're bonded now," he responded with a laugh. She was easily breaking down the barrier of his reluctance toward friendship. He'd managed many years here with minimal contact between himself and others, depending on the arm's length distance he put between himself and anyone that dared to come near. Lately he found himself missing the casual nuances of conversation. There was only so much he could do with bartenders and various other waitstaff at his favored establishments. "You take your snacking very seriously. I'll have to remember that. I think it sounds fair though."

[remysterling]

Remy hadn't said much to anyone in the days surrounding David Walker's death. He didn't know what to say, and talking wasn't a necessity because things weren't exactly rowdy. No, he figured that was probably coming, but they weren't there yet, and so he just kept quiet while it was quiet.

He'd learned as a kid, though, that even when people die, life goes on. Sun rises and sets, animals still need food, people need food and water and sleep. And he was people. His fridge was empty.

Without the bandwidth of real planning, he hadn't even grabbed a basket. He blinked and looked down at the bag in his hand once Dan asked the question, not even sure what he'd grabbed in the first place.

"Um," he said, his eyes taking a moment to focus on the salad kit he held. It wasn't the most obvious food choice for him, but it would fill his belly and it was cheap and it probably wouldn't put him in an early grave. Like heart problems were going to get him first out of all the available and more immediate options. He was, quite frankly, lucky he'd made it this far. "Yeah, I think it's fine. You want it?"

[dan-hart]

He watched as Remy worked through something in his mind. Shifting, he began to wonder if he should’ve bothered him at all. Many of the Walkers were crawling through the various stages of grief. The same could be said for the staff. For some reason that feeling never hit him. He hadn’t been much a sentimentalist growing up and it seemed to follow him into adulthood.

“Nah man.”

He reached over Remy grabbing a bag of chips. “I didn’t come here for groceries. I came here to get out of the house. Too much time spent alone or with the family, you know?”

The two of them worked together, but Dan didn’t really know Remy too well. Not that he spent much time with any of the Walker affiliated. He’d marched to his own beat just about the entire time he’d been there, keeping his head down. For him it was just work.

“How are you holding up?”

[gvnshy]

OPEN: everyone LOCATION: wild horses bar

❝This is my go away face,❞ Sawyer said sourly as someone sat next to her. Maybe coming to a bar when being in such a mood was not the best idea but then again, she wanted to drink and not do it entirely alone. As long as no one offered her sympathy or asked her any sort of questions. ❝If you insist on being there, you could at least pay the next round.❞

[dan-hart]

"Unfortunately, you're stuck with me." He looked around the bar. "No other open seats." Shrugging off his jacket, he hooked it under the bar and took a seat. "Sure."

Ordering her another drink and a beer for himself, he turned to face her before shifting his gaze back forward. He wasn't sure if her comment had been an invitation to talk or a toll for sitting. But what was there to talk about? What was there to say to someone who just lost someone?

"You any good with color combinations?" Taking a sip from his drink, he pulled out his phone. "I kind of started this project, but uh...I never really had an eye for paint. Guess I should've thought about that before starting." He slid his phone over the bar top. There was an image of a half painted wall pulled up.

[maryscottage]

𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚢 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠 🌾🌳

[illusoryfury-deactivated2024041]

○

logan's eyes twinkled with the reflection of the dimly lit room, a hint of mischief and satisfaction mingling in his gaze. he accepted the axe, his posture relaxed. yet there was an undeniable strength and grace in the way he moved—a testament to countless battles fought and won, both against external threats and his own demons. he took a step back, eyeing the target with a focus that belied the casualness of his tone. “the thing about monotony,” he continued, glancing back with a look that was both challenging and inviting, “is that it's only a trap if you let it become one. every day, every moment, holds the potential for something unexpected. like this,” he gestured with the axe, “a simple contest of skill, yet here we are, finding something new in the familiar.” with a fluid motion, logan swung the axe. it flew through the air, a silent testament to his skill, and landed with a satisfying thunk, not just beside the other axe, but slightly closer to the bullseye.

"alright," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smirk that promised competition. though from watching dan earlier, he prepared himself to accept the title of a sore loser. "first one to hit the bullseye orders two rounds of shots. but let's make it interesting—loser picks the poison." he stepped back, allowing the other the first attempt, a gesture of sportsmanship. his stance was casual, but there was an attentive gleam in his eyes, watching every movement with keen interest.

[dan-hart]

“You’re an optimist.”

A smile passed his features. He was resolute in the idea that things could not possibly be as easy as that. The pioneer of his own misery. Logan seemed to like to challenge that foundation, with little affirmations that bled through the cracks. “That’s hard here.” Especially under the pressure of a name that followed a person around like a shadow. His bias bloomed through the seeds of pessimism.

His eyes followed the path of Logan’s axe, watching it land. Three axes perfectly lined, inching closer to the target. “Alright,” he repeated, matching Logan’s smirk. Placing a foot down, he slid off the stool. Always up for a friendly challenge. “I’m in for a hangover already anyway.”

Clearing the axes from the target, he handed Logan one before taking a step up to the throw line. Rolling his neck a couple of times, he raised his arms. And again, he tossed the axe with poised expertise. It landed, clipping the edge of the bullseye.

“You’re up, Walker.”

He stepped aside, to let Logan take his place.

[kercsene]

It was strange how the death of her uncle barely had an impact on Olivia. Maybe she had hyped his death too much, first as an angry teenager who wished things she should knew better upon others, words said in bravado. And then about a month ago when he had his accident, the thought that he shouldn't have made it out alive dawned on her. And then it actually happened and Olivia felt not much. The uncle she once considered family was long gone from her life and the grieving of sorts had already been done. Life went on the same for the woman and at the moment it meant snacks. She was due for a full grocery but that would have to wait. Since her father's death she spent too much time at the bar ordering out. "Sneaking on a girl contemplating snacks is never a wise choice," she said with a laugh. "I don't think they can be considered actual food and they're pretty great. I might be behind the shortage."

[dan-hart]

"I knew that it could go either way. Either you were going to be happy to see me or I was making a big mistake by interrupting. I figured I wouldn't hear the end of it if you had thought I ignored you." Turning his attention to her options, he shrugged "Maybe not food, but snacks are comforting. Nothing wrong with treating yourself." It felt like there was an elephant in the room. He might've created the feeling. Especially because he was so involved. She hadn't brought it up though and he wouldn't ask.

"So what are the two options? Is it like between a savory or sweet type of deal?"

[myriam-moussa]

"Oh, yes, it's a rose hip chamomile ginger tea. It's good for if you're feeling a bit under the weather," Myriam said with a polite smile. She drank the occasional coffee, but she was very into tea. She loved just about any kind of tea and she had a large collection of tea packets in her kitchen. She often times enjoyed going to farmers markets to find more unique blends. "It's also good if you're tired and looking for something relaxing," she added. She held it out to Dan to read over the details if he wanted to. She'd run into him a couple times before in town, but didn't know too much about him beyond where he worked. "I saw a few more boxes on the top shelf if you want this one to give it a try."

[dan-hart]

"Under the weather, huh?" He took a step back playfully. Getting sick was the least of his issues right now. Taking the box, he read over the packaging, before handing it back. "You take this one, I'll reach up and get one."

Pulling another box off the shelf, he murmured, "I don't think I've ever really had tea. I mean, maybe when I was younger." Meeting her gaze again. he shifted a little. "Is it like coffee where you add creamer and sugar?"

[dan-hart]

Location: General Store

Open

He couldn't believe that it had already been a week since the death. Time felt like it was moving away from a linear plane. He had moved through work, adjusting to the subtle changes and grief from both family and workers.

He had been trying to lay low, keep out of people's way, be available when needed. There was an energy to the town that felt unsteady. It made him feel like there was something on the horizon that wasn't fully mapped out. Or maybe that was just him predetermining events again.

The last week had been spent with Walkers. Listening to stories, watching tense postures and the impending anger that was one wrong sentence away from breaking the surface.

A night away was all he needed. He took to the streets. Walking all the way into town. Window shopping around the main center, until he reached the general store. At the end of the first aisle he saw a familiar face.

"That any good?" He said nodding to the product in their hand. "It seems to sell out pretty quick."

[sarapaulson]

[flowerytale]

Susan Sontag, from As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks 1964-1980

[wambsgans-tom]

La Casa de las Flores · BROMELIA (símb. resiliencia)

[illusoryfury-deactivated2024041]

"i spent a good couple of years in new york. med school days," he confessed, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "it was a whirlwind, the city that never sleeps. the hustle, the intensity. there's something magical about the chaos." as he reminisced about his time in new york, kyle's voice carried a warmth that transcended the chill in the air. "made some great memories, met some incredible people. the energy of the city, the diversity—it's a unique experience. sometimes, i catch myself thinking about those days," he admitted, his eyes distant yet filled with a certain fondness for the bustling city that had been his second home. "i bet they hate it. come to think of it, it could have been me down there now." under different circumstances, he could have been out there in the freezing fields, tending to the soil. there was a fleeting image of himself, bundled up against the cold, working alongside those brave souls testing the frozen ground. as his thoughts returned to the present, there was a sense of contentment in his gaze. the path he had chosen, the memories of new york, and the experiences that shaped him seemed to overlay any sense of regret. "you know, in different circumstances, i would understand completely, but how could you forget the name of the weird guy you met on top of the freezing hill, contemplating about memories?" kyle joked, welcoming the warmth their hand shake offered before retreating his hand back into the comfort of his coat's pockets. "soil, huh? not your typical small talk topic," he quipped, a confused expression dancing on his features. "i mean, most people go for the weather or sports, but you're telling me there's people out here discussing the intricacies of the frozen ground?"

[dan-hart]

“I know it well,” he said with a smile. 

It was hard to imagine ever moving back there, but he always felt that he was missing out on his life somehow. He had run away, leaving landmines in his wake. If he went back, was he a dead man or an ill advised one? There was nobody there for him anyway, making the choice to stay an easy one. At least here he was safer, running right into the arms of the same thing he had tried to leave behind. 

“That’s not surprising,” he was grateful for the change of topic. “It’s usually generational, from what I’ve experienced. Was your family involved in the agricultural industry?” Everyone he met in Oxbow Ridge had either been involved directly, had family involved, or a friend of a friend that was somehow rooted in it. The idea that someone didn’t have a trace back to it seemed incomprehensible. 

Laughing at Kyle, he nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I’m probably going to remember you. The whole hypothermia thing kind of put you in the memorable box.” 

He was momentarily paralyzed by the embarrassment. “No,” he laughed lightly. “People definitely don’t discuss this. I.. was trying to be clever. Didn’t land.” Using the break in conversation as an excuse, he blew into his hands again before getting up. 

“Anyway, I should be getting back. It was nice to meet you Kyle.” 

[kercsene]

"No, but I just wanted to make it clear. I claim no fault in advance," she said with laugh. There was the fleeting thought that it was a good thing this place wasn't around when she was younger. This definitely felt like the kind of place they would have raised hell in if allowed. "I can do harder." The not holding the axe so hard was a different matter, not as intuitive, but she could do it. Her second attempt went better, hitting the board at the top even if slightly far from the actual target. "If working at the ranch doesn't work out for you, you might have a career as teaching this thing," she said with a smile as she sat down. "How about you show me how it's done cowboy, distract me from all the questions I have about how one becomes so good at this."

[dan-hart]

“If you hit me, it’s my own fault.” He’d invited this, after all. Inspiring her to let out her anger. Even if it meant the possibility of an axe to the head. The thought diminished with her second throw. It was significantly better. 

“You did that yourself. Most people don’t even land a hit the first visit from what I’ve seen.” He, himself, had been pretty bad the first few times he’d tried. It took having a lot of free time on his hands to get as good as he did. Not that it was a great accomplishment.

Laughing, he got up and grabbed an axe. “Who am I to say no?” 

Lining himself up in front of the target, he brought the axe above his head and tossed it. The heel landed in the center. “I spend too much time here,” he said. “That’s the big secret. I hope you’ll keep it between us. The mystery is an important aspect to the job."

[illusoryfury-deactivated2024041]

○

"i feel like we could make it happen on a more mutual ground, so i don't overstep my boundaries and all that crap." logan observed dan's casual demeanor with a mix of amusement and confusion. the alcohol had worked its magic, loosening inhibitions and allowing laughter to flow freely between them. however, as logan contemplated the idea of dan, a seemingly affable and easygoing man, carrying out the gritty tasks typically assigned by his dear old cousin, a sense of bewilderment crept into his thoughts. dan appeared so at ease, so different from the usual hardened individuals tasked with the walkers' dirty job. logan noted the absence of the usual stink eye or judgment that accompanied those who chose to abandon the walkers, him especially. as they approached the makeshift target, logan decided to shed some light on his own disposition. "you know, " logan began, a contemplative expression crossing his face, "i don't always need alcohol to get in the mood for danger. it's just that sometimes, it helps break through the monotony, pumps a bit of life into the routine we've got going on." as they approached the target, logan couldn't shake the curiosity about dan's past life as a walker cowboy, but he respected the unspoken boundaries of their whatever that was. for now, in the midst of laughter and the promise of an unforgettable evening, logan was content with sharing a glimpse of his own motivations, beyond the temporary liberation that alcohol provided. "alright cowboy, let's see what you've got." the makeshift target stood before them, a silent witness to the impending challenge that would unfold in the dimly lit space. he twirled an axe in his hand, the blade catching the flickering light as he regarded dan with a playful challenge. as the first axe left logan's hand, embedding itself into the target with a satisfying thud, he turned to dan, eyebrows raised expectantly. "now, your turn." logan said, passing an axe to dan with a knowing grin.

[dan-hart]

For a moment, he forgot not all Walkers were created equal. It was just another layer he didn’t quite understand. Tonight wasn’t about the questions, secrets, or even games. It was so rare that he could enjoy himself or feel at ease in his skin. There was always this sense of burden. Right now he felt the childish mischief of the person he once was, but was too afraid to unravel. Not that he had ever been good. Or happy. Or even less curious. 

“It wasn’t a criticism.” A knowing smile passed across his features. “I understand the feeling. Monotony can feel a lot like being trapped.”

Who would he have been if that train hadn’t stopped right outside Oxbow Ridge? Would he have found freedom or just another nest to bury himself into? It was hard to imagine. But the room was spinning, so the imagination didn’t spread far enough for him to run into his thoughts again. 

He watched Logan. Amused at his confidence, the little twirl of his axe. He tried not to let it show that he was impressed by the throw. “You’re full of surprises, Walker.” 

His hands wrapped around the handle of the axe. Even standing he knew he was not at his peak. But his body felt loose and warm, arms light and airy. He liked the feeling. Even intoxicated, his body remembered. He had done this thousand times. 

The axe landed right beside Logan’s. 

“I guess that makes us even,” he teased, passing by the other as he handed him an axe. 

[illusoryfury-deactivated2024041]

kyle chuckled, feeling a slight shiver run through him at the mere mention of the cold. "hypothermia does have a certain charm to it, doesn't it?" he joked, adjusting his position on the seat. "nah, born and bred here." he nodded in agreement about nostalgia, his gaze still fixed on the distant skyline. "memories, they're like the layers of winter clothes we pile on. sometimes heavy, but they keep us warm in their own way." as dan mentioned the workers in the field, kyle raised an eyebrow. "testing the soil in this freezing weather? must be a tough job. not my idea of a good time, that's for sure." he grinned, appreciating dan's attempt to steer away from farming talk. leaning back, kyle took dan's hand to shake it. "kyle, nice to officially meet you. hospital encounters can be a bit fleeting." a contemplative expression settled on his face, and he couldn't help but think about the many new faces he was yet to encounter in town. the thought of future interactions with strangers brought a mix of anticipation and curiosity. "you seem like a guy who knows his soil. you one of those cowboys working over at the walker ranch?" he grinned, teasingly, as if trying to uncover a secret connection between dan and the frozen fields.

[dan-hart]

“I think you’d be the first to say that.” He shook his head, amused. “The way you spoke, I was under the impression you moved here recently. Have you ever lived somewhere different or wanted to?” He couldn’t imagine only being one place his entire life. Not that he had done much exploring. New York to Montana was not really some huge feat, but he’d taken a nice long train ride with breaks in between his journey. From what he could see, the midwest really had long stretches of land with spread of towns. Chicago was probably the most exciting city he’d seen before heading more North toward Canada.

He had to agree with Kyle’s assessment to some degree. It had been so long since he had given his memories air to breathe. It was hard to imagine that he wouldn’t be suffocated by the things he chose not to remember. The idea of warmth had him pulling up the zipper on his jacket. “No, those guys probably hate their life right now. It won’t take too long though, it’s more tedious than anything else.”

“It’s just nice to put a name to a face.” He returned the shake, “I’m terrible with names though, just for future reference.” His attention turned back to the field. “Yeah, I’ve been working with them for a few years now. I know much more about soil than I’d like to admit to… but it comes in handy sometimes.” He laughed adding, “It’s a great conversation starter, I've heard.”