immoral mathematics

BOOKKEEPER & Man of GOD 'the swede' of 'Hell on Wheels'

[thxrgundersen-blog]

butcherbcy:

    Aaron fidgets. He remains gravely quiet during the time it takes for the accused to perish, and only speaks again once the crowd has begun to disperse, their morbidity sated for the remainder of the evening. 

     “Y–you right, but— I jus’… d–don’ reckon how, suh. I mean… h–h–how he’d ‘a knowed wh-who I am.” The boy swallows thickly; his hands stopped fidgeting moments ago, yet they remain intertwined out of lowly civility. There comes a thought that strikes him as both comforting and unsettling.

    “I mu–mus’ ’a looked li-like somebody else to ‘im.”

Thor listens to the poor boy speak and pities him. Which is a rare thing for him - he is able to comprehend the misfortune of another, which is often none of his concern.He wants to excuse his apparent pity for curiosity, he cannot afford to be caught off guard. At least for now he can remain visibly so. "And your visage carried him from this life, away unto his death, and to another yet again...May God rest his soul." Smiling, he raises his hands, gesturing, obviously quite sincere with his declaration.Turning his gaze back to Aaron, he folds his hands in front of him, tilting his head. "What is your name, hm?"

[thxrgundersen-blog]

butcherbcy:

   The black bag is slipped over the man’s head. Aaron drops his unintentional facade of divine being, his right hand falling to grasp his left wrist. His attention is pulled away by a peculiar voice- the likes of which he has never heard, not once while traversing this sweep of land. Now, Aaron is a tall boy, but this man damn near towers over everyone; this is the second thing he notices.

      “N-”

   By the time Aaron has collected himself enough to answer, he hears the telltale clang, followed by the strain of wood and rope. He doesn’t dare turn and watch this happen, yet his breath still hitches in his chest. When he reclaims his lungs from the tension, he responds with a dismissive hum, shaking his head.

     “—N–no, suh… Never s—seen ‘im in m-my life.”

Even from this vantage they can hear the strain of the worn and bloody rope as it whines against the wood, protesting in its knots as the man is wrought tight and unforgiving by it. The crowd watches as he begins to die, his swinging body moving slowly in the air - Thor can't help but notice how so very close the man's feet are to the ground as life and another chance teases him as he fades to black. The tiny trembling voice in his ear immediately distracts him, like he is surprised to hear such a thing come out of the boy's mouth. He's very careful with his words, it reminds him of someone else he knows. How apt. He smiles, his gazed focused, listening to him patiently. "Well, he seemed to know you, didn't he? We often times look to that which is familiar in our times of struggle, yes?"

[thxrgundersen-blog]

butcherbcy:

     Aaron didn’t plan to get caught up in any local affairs. Over a number of months, he’s been hopping from town to town, seeking opportunity for himself in the vast, promising stretches of the West. What the boy has discovered thus: chaos, death, and a brand-new meaning to the word ‘justice.’

    Quiet, he looks on from the edge of the crowd. Aaron realizes that, as many times as he’s seen them occurring nearby, he’s never actually watched a hanging. Now, for all the anticipation and sorrow that wells in him at the sight of the responsible fellow, he can’t turn his gaze. People will push past him to get a closer view, but he’s content exactly where he is. Aaron doesn’t ask, but listens for the reason that the man has been convicted.

   He can’t help but notice that the man in question appears to be looking straight at him. Aaron’s hands are clasped just beneath his chin– a natural gesture of self-comfort –his visage illuminated just outside the stretch of the crowd. Though the eyes on him make him nervous, Aaron can’t begin to realize that, to the stupefied man, he must appear as an angel, waiting patiently to carry his soul away.

There is a rustling amongst the rabble, some are as repulsive to go as far as to cheer for their death, someone so far beyond the control of man that he must perish. Thor watches with fascination as he looks as if though he is already dead, already anticipating the tightness around his neck. The throbbing constriction that slowly pulls him away. Thor stands amidst the crowd with his head poking up in stature, following the hanging man's gaze, like he's found what he's been looking for. He sees the boy in turn, looking on, and he can't tell if it is with fascination or despair. Of course, he looks as if though he would stand out in a crowd either way, looking much less worn down than the other inhabitants of the dredges. Maybe a little tired. He's close enough to speak, growing curious himself, it seems to turn to such an odd circumstance. "Do you know him?" He asks quietly, completely harmless.

[thxrgundersen-blog]

butcherbcy

He was a phantom, and he was well aware of this fact. The art of...subtlety comes naturally, testing a delicate series of structures that continue to impede him in some way. To put it very...very lightly, he is Sick And Tired. Dragging himself out of the mud, staring death in the face and dancing again and again. And laughing. And in exchange killing death itself each and every time. THe night welcomed his long, dark cloak, desiring to remain invisible. His faces will falter for no one, even in his quest for control. His attempts will soon be faltered, certainly, turning a corner to see a massing crowd toward a giant stage, men standing upon it - A hanging, from what he can tell. Interesting surprise show for the evening after all, and Thor feeling a little lucky.