Rose... I have a question for you~.


[Private to Karl]
Not bad... that gift. [A compliment of sorts.]

[ooc: Link warning- NSFW.]

[There's a little girl wandering the streets today and she looks worried. She peeks into stores, tries to get a good look in carriages as they go by and every adult she sees gets studied carefully.

Her hands wring around the arm of a very worn out, very old stuffed teddy bear and she's sniffling. Every once in a while, a hand will wipe at the tears falling down her face and when any adult gets close enough, she tries to stop them and says;]

I lost my mom and dad. Can you help me find them?

[Of course, a few people might recognize her as one of them orphans from the orphanage. She's just hoping that won't happen.

She and her accomplices want your money, see, and this is all just a very good act.]

[ He's still a bit strange, cowboy hat angled down to cover his eyes, but the tweed and the bowtie - well, who knows why he wears that? Dr. Smith is just that bizarre kind of travelling physician, the one with his bag full of clinking bottles and herbs and spices.

He's been in the town awhile - and it's got nothing to do with anyone keeping him here, thank you very much - bumbling and not like the locals with his clipped, funny accent and his odd little stories he tells children around the campfire. He's a man with his head in the clouds and his feet nowhere near a horse, they say, gossip hidden behind hands when he visits with his medicines. He leads her instead of riding her, and it's maybe because he falls off, it's maybe because he just doesn't get it, trailing the mare around the square like she's a balloon on a string.

He tries, but he's probably not really a cowboy at all.

Today he's hiding beneath the lip of an old tavern, watching his horse (TARDIS, because the name came to him one night) drinking from a trough. It's warm, and he's minus the jacket, braces wonky and his shirt sleeves rolled up, bag resting beside his boots. He likes the spurs, couldn't part with them. ]

Hey old girl, does that feel better?

((ooc: I COULD NOT RESIST. So feel free to bump into him. ))

[ Clint is a quiet calm that keeps to himself unless it's necessary not to, carrying an unspoken air of authority, but anyone who's ever seen him in action knows that's when he truly comes to life, and it's not something to mess with if it can be avoided. It should be noted that taking the bow he uses in place of a gun for granted (not that he doesn't carry a gun besides, of course) isn't the wisest thing to do, and the last person who did isn't around to tell the tale.

He's not the sheriff, he doesn't care enough for the rules to take that position even though he probably could if he wanted to, but he is a law unto his own who attempts to keep the peace, a lone ranger with eyes and ears on everything with the ability to blend into the background and remain out of sight. If there happens to be others out there like him around, well, he'll easily group up if their goals are the same.

But when things aren't serious, Clint knows how to let go and have fun, and he's got quite a reputation around the saloons.

He gets around, so if someone happens to bump into him somewhere it wouldn't be unheard of, and if there's trouble he'll be there. ]

[VIDEO / ACTION]

[Frankie Dalton, looking just a bit more unkempt than usual, is leaning against a worn wooden post, taking advantage of the scant shade of the overhanging roof. His right hand is tangled loosely in the reins of a tall bay horse, its head bent to drink from the trough at his feet.

Though his stance is relaxed and unhurried, Frankie's eyes are on a small collection of wanted posters tacked to the wall behind him, slightly weatherworn but still readable. None of them look like him, which is a relief; still, he keeps studying the sketches, face carefully neutral, while the horse drinks, until the video times out.]


[ooc; completely ridiculous backstory here, subject to tweaking if I think of anything better ;3 comments from better_at_this!]

Well...uhm. I think the hats are very interesting?

But I'm not sure why so many men seem taken to wearing them. Is this a curse? Wearing a hat? It's better than sparkling, I supposed...

[ooc; She is curse free but that should not stop you! And for those cowboys and girls too shy to talk on the network, she will be doing chores of the buying groceries and fabric at the market variety, so you can action if you want.]

Keep your hands at your side, boys, or I cut them off.

[Isabela may not look much like a cowboy, but she's one of them through and through. She lost her ranch to a fire about a year ago and hasn't gotten the coin together for a new one yet.

She's got a hand full of cards, her eyes focused on them and the face of her fellow game mates around her. She's a regular here at the saloon, often drinking and and playing card games and flirting with a handsome man or beautiful woman.

Something goes awry - perhaps a hand up her thigh but it isn't shown - and she throws her cards in the man's face and stands.]

All right, then. Have it your way- a little bloodplay it is.

[She smirks as the other guys crack their knuckles. And as a punch is thrown, she quickly dodges -- and you can guess what happens from here.]

[Video opens to Serrure standing in front of a large table filled with colored glass bottles filled with a mysterious liquid. He's grinning, arms spread, decked out in green and gold- a vest, button shirt and slacks- a pair of ostentatious cowboy boots. Is he cursed? Maybe. But probably not.]

Step right up, folks, step right up. Ladies, have you a few pounds in need of shedding? Headaches? Back aches? Need more energy? Then Serrure's Magic Health Potion is for you. Relieves all that ails you. Need a healthy flush? Color in your cheeks? Fuller lips? Fuller hips? One bottle of this will solve those problems.

Gentlemen, strong and silent gentlemen, is your vision blurring? Trigger finger slow? Need more health, wealth and lasting power with the ladies? A bottle of this will set you up and make all those small problems go away.

Illnesses cured, pep put into one's step. All you need in one bottle for one modest price.

No refunds.

[ooc: Oh, you'll feel good after drinking it since the main ingredient is pure grain alcohol with lots of flavoring. There might be a bit of accidental magic in a few of them, too. Probably something awful will happen if you drink those.]

Seems like there's an damn sight more cattle ranchers an' rustlers in town today than I remember. Almost feels like I missed somethin'.

Are the usual bars still in commission, or am I gonna have to find a saloon till this nonsense dies down?

( ooc: Elijah is not affected by today's curse . . . but you wouldn't know it by looking at him! he'll be out and about all over the City today, so feel free to accost him for whatever reason :D )

[VIDEO / ACTION]

[It's a view from the corner of a corner table in a dim saloon, with a shadowed figure sitting mostly in profile. A long, dark braid sitting along the edge of her jacket is the only visible hint of identity. She taps a soft rhythm on the tabletop with one fine-boned hand, not touching her drink.

The scant light is blocked, suddenly, as a stranger wanders over to her table. Miss Cameron doesn't look up.]

Keep walking.

[Apparently the warning tone in her voice is enough to change his mind, and the man walks (grumbling) away.]


[ooc; Miss Cameron, in your bar, throwin' out your rowdy drunks.]