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@yourexecutioner: continued from here.

The threat of the gun did not elude the man, but he did not respond to it’s presence in any way. It wasn’t worth reacting to yet. If the man brought the gun up to make it a true threat he’d worry about it then, but already he was contemplating how to handle it. “It’s her business if there’s a spy in her city I think, especially for the Legion. They may be on their last legs, but they are still a threat.” He pointed out calmly. “I assume she would want to know if you pose a risk to her.”

And of course, it was probably suspicious too that he was able to pick up on his affiliation so easily, telling in and of itself there if Hal chose to see it.

It was there, it could be used, but for the moment it wasn’t an option considered. Hal wasn’t exactly the sort of man who went around shooting people without being seriously provoked... and while he wasn’t exactly the most thrilled right now, he definitely hadn’t reached that stage yet. “As I said... ain’t really any of her business. Haven’t done a damn thing against her or her own people.” And that... that wasn’t a lie there. His ire was towards the NCR - the only information he’d ever passed off had been pertaining to the NCR.

Either way the Cajun scowled, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the railing a little bit. “Besides, I’m guessin’ y’re one to talk here.” Definitely something about pots and kettles.

#ic #yourexecutioner #v: main #t: present #[ hope it's okay I booped this to its own thread~ ]

the light goes down, a mark from god / you’re shaking now, your brother’s blood what have you done

Acanthus belongs to @yourexecutioner, Aerius is mine. Absolutely stunning art by runandwine!

Please click the top image for the fullsize; it’s amazing!

#character art #commissioned work #yourexecutioner

State of Play (Acanthus + Emmalee)

@yourexecutioner

Considering its usual popularity, the Grub n’ Gulp was muted that day. Fitz was at his stall zealously chatting with the merchants of a passing caravan; at hers Lupe quietly washed bottles. Two children stood at the cattle pen to pet the curious brahmin while their parents sat in the dining stall talking hushedly over a ledger. A blonde woman sat at one of the faded picnic tables reading a Pre-War soap opera magazine. Her emptied plate sat on the ground, the last of its remnants having been donated to a stray dog who had since wandered away.

An unpleasant wind whipped at the scene occasionally, not warm but still unforgiving, making sure no one there felt too comfortable, even in the usually scorching desert.

#yourexecutioner #state of play

➵ [For Acanthus]

&meme

#yourexecutioner #Asks #Answered #meme: arrows #family in the literal sense #brothers ftw

nightmares;

Nightmares.

Sure, Aerius had them before scattered throughout his past. Most of them tended to be subconscious memories of vague life before the Legion, or even his earlier years within the Legion, but none of them had ever really plagued him as to ones that lingered on and off did now. It had been five months; why wasn't things getting better? Going away?

Dead was dead. There was never any changing that.

Having awoken from another such lingering plague through his senses the young assassin found himself up, ranging through the mostly silent Cottonwood Cove. Even the slaves in their pen were sleeping fitfully, and although few other soldiers lingered around they were mostly ignored by a man that had no interest in them or their antics as they waited for dawn for the shift change. No; instead there was only one tent in mind he was after going to and he stepped inside without fear or concern.

His brother's tent, while the man wasn't off and away doing his stupid Frumentarii tasks, and inside the man was actually there for a change. Aerius allowed his lip to curl at the sight of him sleeping prone on his bedroll... it would take nothing to attack him, to likely main him worse than he already had. But he didn't. the snarl that threatened to bubble up subsided into an almost whine as he headed over to him, intending to drop to an almost crawl the last few inches. The want to attack lingered but instead he all but collapsed, pressing his face against the older man's side and curling up into a little ball instead. For a minute he could almost... could almost pretend, green eyes closed, that it wasn't Acanthus there but Quincy instead.

It couldn't last.

Scent and unfamiliar muscle took that away almost instantaneously and only brought the ebbing pain creeping back up amongst his sleep-deprived mind. He hated this man, hated everything his blood brother stood for, but he had nowhere else he could turn to anymore.

#IC #yourexecutioner #rp: nightmares #permission giving from Moff as for Acanthus' positioning

;;in fine autem omnes, [Acanthus || Aerius]

Bloodied fingers tangled with the mostly grown son of Rome's fur, tracing along the dog's cranium almost thoughtfully. In the young man's other grasp lingered a tight hold on a tattered page of paper, a letter of which his the death grip crunching slightly for a moment. Aerius' reading abilities was only rudimentary at best... but while he only knew some of the words on the page Tivoli's presence was enough. He knew he was gone.

He didn't understand however. There was a strange welling inside, a coiled dart of what felt like physical pain. But of course it wasn't pain. He wasn't injured - how could he be in pain with no wounds? Illogical.

His hand tightened on the letter again as he finally rose from his half-crouch, feet carrying him into the camp. He didn't care of the glances from his fellow Legionaries, didn't care the questions in their gazes at the dog that padded at his heels obediently. Instead the assassin moved with almost single-minded purpose, finally stepping into the tent of the one man he knew he could turn to with this. As much as he hated that thought. As much as he hated Acanthus.

"You busy?" An almost quiet question from the conflicted Legionary, signaling for the dog - as per the training he and Quincy had given him months before when he was but a ball of fat and fuzz and massive paws - to remain seated by the door.

#IC #yourexecutioner #rp: the end of it all

And last, but certainly not least, Ian and Acanthus for my wonderfully wonderful amazingly dear Mothy. Ilu so much sillybean; I cannot spoil you remotely enough.

Amazing art by the wonderful DoctorCritical! Please do not take and use anywhere without first receiving permission from her and Moth, thank you. Please do not remove this artist credit upon reblogging.

#yourexecutioner #chainsmokingandroid #Gift

A paper heart can be found in Arcade's tent, resting atop a box of prewar snacks and some baked goods. The heart says nothing on it, but a distinct vulture feather rests beside the goodies.

While it can only be one person, considering the option of the vulture feather, Arcade finds himself somewhat rather alarmed that the man he'd treated somehow managed to get into his tent and left something behind without his - or anyone's! - notice.

#IC #yourexecutioner #Answered #Acanthus #your creepy is showing again.