#goldencavalier

[amoxied]

         “ you’re getting a look in your eye. ”

@goldencavalier ♥’d

[ripcamelot-blog]

@goldencavalier  knows  what’s  going  on  here.   「  s.c.  」

         ❛  hello  ?  are  you  LISTENING  ?  ❜            a  short  whistle  :  a  wave  of  his  fingers.            ❛  what’s  your  name  ?  ❜

[femmelieutenant-a-blog]

'Fading to Dust'

Send me ‘Fading to Dust’ for my muses reaction to watching yours die right in front of them.

        This was not according to plan. There were too many of them... far more than had been expected to be there. They had guns; everyone had guns but these were different. These were better guns than they had by miles. If she had time, Helga might have envied them for the weaponry. In the back of her mind, she had made a note to try and scavenge one as a spoil of the battle.

         But that was before all Hell broke loose.

        In the chaos of battle, she almost missed it. She almost missed the shock of blond that should have been much longer than it was. She almost missed how his body jerked as the bullet lodged into his chest. How he dropped to the grass of the hill...

        Once it all processed, her heart stopped. Dead. Right there, in the blink of an eye, he had been...

        Her mind went blank as she tried to breathe again, try to pull herself out of the complete and utter shock of watching George, her George, suddenly-

        If there was any consolation in that moment, it was that the sudden bullet in her skull did not force her to mourn.

[endliing-archive-blog]

❝ We’ll keep that light of yours shining, won’t we? ❞

✴┆мємєѕ

                    did he think her ill?  amalthea supposed his concern should’ve been  endearing.  she supposed; which is why the unicorn tried very hard to look past his  PATRONIZING  tone. she twisted her head to look at the horses, all of whom seemed intent upon keeping a respectable distance from a unicorn. they were dejected, but…not uncared for?  ah, it was a difficult thing to judge the opinions of  lower beasts,  and the man himself was no less perplexing. amalthea tentatively accepted the water  ( she was disappointed to find that it wasn’t anything stronger, but not surprised )  and drank slowly, after which she bowed her head again, seemingly intent on going back to sleep.

                    she didn’t  think  he was a  BAD MAN…  just exceedingly stupid.

[femmelieutenant-a-blog]

Bad end

      “Ladies first!”

       Helga’s eyes widened as she quickly processed the meaning of his words. The metal grating beneath her boots only solidified what was happening, and she felt air rush by her head as suddenly she was falling…. Falling….

       Quick reflexes grabbed the lowest metal bar she could, and, for a brief second, she eyed the dual rotating blades merely feet beneath her. If she hadn’t grabbed the bar, she’d have been so quickly dead.

       He had tried to kill her.

       Rage motivated her to get back up. She swung beneath the blimp, getting back her movement and speed to vault herself back onto the deck.

       The fact she contacted the traitorous snake’s face upon doing so was icing on the proverbial cake. She felt something give beneath the sole of her boot – maybe it was just wishful thinking as he staggered backward from her force. Oh, how she hoped she had broken something.

       Her lips curled into a snarl, teeth bared in pure primal rage as she sized up Rourke. After all that they had been through… after all the promises and trust… he had tried to kill her.

       “You said we were in this together!” Helga kicked him again in the face, both low, powerful kicks, wanting the satisfaction of seeing him in pain at her hands. Were there ways to kill him there and then? Of course. But none would grant her the same closure as beating him down first.

       “You promised me a percentage!” It was a good enough red herring to distract from her broken trust.

       But he grabbed her leg, large hands that had both enabled and restrained her holding on with a vice-like grip, and the blonde’s eyes widened. Memories of ten years prior raced through her head, admonishing her for allowing such an obvious weakness in her rage.

       “Next time, get it in writing!”

       Once more, she felt the metal leave her feat, and she fell, head-first, over the side. There was time to flip around in a vain attempt to grab the bar that had saved her previously, but it was too late.

       The only pain she felt was the crippling blow of fan blades to her legs. The next pass effectively sliced her in twain, the bits of deadly metal stopping and getting lodged against spinal cord and rib-cage. They struggled to get free, but the lack of speed made it impossible to dislodge the grisly female corpse.

[femmelieutenant-a-blog]

‘a moment of weakness’

22. My muse is in a frightened or nervous state (why is up to the mun)

        Helga lifted the glass shakily to her lips. Drinking might not be a good idea, but right now, she just wanted something to calm her nerves.

        The last time this had happened, she was swiftly left with nothing. Manassas, Virginia had taken him from herand left her with nothing but the war. And now, in less than twenty-fourhours, she was going to do it all over again.

        She stared into the whiskey, trying to keep from quaking with fear. George was strong, though. He had survived so much. He was seasoned and smart and, yes, a bit reckless, but not so much so that it was inherently problematic for anyone save the opponent.

        Another drink, and she eyed the garment laying in wait. White tafeta, corset, cage crinoline. Slippers. She had been practicing walking in the heel in secret so at to surprise him. But now, the idea of walking in them made her unsteady... even while sitting.

        What if he changed his mind? They had butted heads so often before...

        What if something went wrong after? Could she stand the label of ‘black widow’?

                                                        Drink.

        Helga sat the glass down and reached behind her, undoing the braid she had been tightly doing for years. Less than twenty-four hours. She had to sober up. Had to prepare.

        Would she still shake with fear.... or excitement while walking down the aisle?

[goodolerebelsoldier]

You're just jealous due to my immortality.

Naw thanks.

well if you count this storyline with Kat whenever that muse returns to her mun. he’s got an immortal-ish verse.

[femmelieutenant-a-blog]

‘If the path i walk is beside you, I do not question where it leads.’

        Poetic. Sincere.

        She wanted to rest her temple against his shoulder. To smell the cinnamon and good Ivory soap. To smile and revel in the warmth of that comment.

        Helga glanced up at soft but strong features. Every word, she believed. George Custer was not a man known to lie.

        And so she gave in. She leaned over and let her head settle against the fabric of his coat. Took a deep breath of cinnamon hair and clean soap. Enjoyed the genuine essence of him.

        And her hand took his. Kid leather in kid leather.

        “Then let us walk.”