ADRIENNE RICH x MOSS ANGEL THE UNDYING x ANA MENDIETA
‘The Burning of Paper Instead of Children’, Collected Poems: 1950 – 2012 (2016);
Sea-Witch Vol. 2: Girldirt Angelfog (2017);
Untitled: Silueta Series (1978), Super-8 film, colour, silent

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ADRIENNE RICH x MOSS ANGEL THE UNDYING x ANA MENDIETA
‘The Burning of Paper Instead of Children’, Collected Poems: 1950 – 2012 (2016);
Sea-Witch Vol. 2: Girldirt Angelfog (2017);
Untitled: Silueta Series (1978), Super-8 film, colour, silent

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location: outside of lucky coyote casino, a night of rest event.
status: open 0/3
it was difficult to tell whether it was truly a smile or merely the shape his the expression that had settled upon maddox as he emerged from the darkness of an alley adjoining the casino; lively as ever within and haunting quiet out with. but a quiet hum drifted from under his breath as he wiped a crimson stain from his hands with a handkerchief retrieved from the inner pocket of his jacket, completely methodical in the task as he worked carefully at his knuckles and beneath his nails before folding the cloth away once more. the night air filled his lungs. not quite fresh, and certainly not as peaceful as it pretended for now.
then his attention shifted with darkened eyes settling upon the newcomer who had stepped into view just moments ago, and for a moment he simply regarded them before speaking. "if your intention is to enter the alley, do mind the mess." his tone was conversational, almost courteous, even, "and try not to trip over the lump resting there."
his gaze flicked briefly back towards the now shadowed form that remained discarded further within before returning to the other. "he had a little too much to drink." a pause following his explanation, deliberate and unhurried. "and, well.. loose lips on nights such as this can be rather inconsiderate of everyone else."
He needed fresh air. Bentley swore as he aged he began to despise crowds. People bumping into him, almost spilling their drinks on him made him want to throat punch some of these folks. And that was being generous. But of course that would be frowned upon. So, here he was enjoying the peace. Though like anything else it wouldn't last he imagined. These kinds of events only meant chaos. And it surely was going to happen sooner or later. Bentley wasn't sure what he walked in on now but it wasn't his business. Hues didn't even bare to look at the description of a lump. People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf. "Whatever you have going on here .. it doesn't concern me. This just stops my headache a bit from all the idiots inside." And that was putting it lightly. But he was genuine in his words - the other's own act of violent surely wasn't a priority. "Seems to be the trend in there. Most people's alcohol tolerance is really quite pathetic."
open to: anyone (0/4)
featuring: billy & your muse !
billy has been loitering near a row of slot machines for a while now, not playing so much as occupying the space beside them. he’s dressed better than usual, which mostly means someone has bullied him into a shirt without an oil stain, though the cigarette tucked between his fingers ruins most of the effort. around him, the lucky coyote is all noise and shine, smug laughter spilling over the machines here and there while glasses catch the light every time someone lifts a drink. he has lasted longer than he thought he would. long enough for one drink and the realization that these things are mostly just people standing around with nicer shoes and worse grudges. not bad, really, for his first proper night at this kind of thing. the lighter clicks once, twice, then gives him absolutely nothing for his trouble. billy looks down at it, unimpressed, before movement nearby pulls his attention. he lifts the useless thing between two fingers, mouth pulling slightly at one corner. “ hey, got a light? ”
This may have been neutral territory but Bentley had his doubts. The great corrupter of most individuals is the ego. With all groups in attendance - even absentmindedly there was going to be some kind of hostility. Duty didn't mean jack shit to some. Bentley knew what he himself was capable of - so he preferred to keep a low profile. Away from the action so to speak, at least that way he wouldn't have to be put into a situation where his patience was tested. Hues followed the source. "You're lucky." Though the comment could be directed to the other and himself. Sharing was not caring to the man, but here he was offering his own Zippo to the other. Reaching out and flicking so a light appeared. "Just don't try to blow the smoke towards me. Trying to quit." But temptation was a real bitch.
( brandon sklenar , 33, cis male, he/him ) ⸻ hey, wait a second— i could swear that was BENTLEY MEDLOCK that just walked past. don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the ENFORCER of D’AMICO FAMILY? they’ve been a member for TEN YEARS and apparently they’re actually LOYAL, so make sure not to forget this time. i’ve heard they’re known as THE DUTIFUL, and i can tell you for sure that they’re STAUNCH and ADAPTABLE on a good day, but i don’t think you’d like to see them when they’re RESENTFUL and AGGRESSIVE . rumor has it that they SET FIRE TO HIS INHERITED CHILDHOOD HOME SO HE COULD COLLECT THE INSURANCE MONEY, but i don’t know if anyone has ever lived long enough to confirm it. either way, most people would use BREAK STUFF by LIMP BIZKIT to describe them, as well gritted teeth with clenched fists, brass knuckles tucked comfortably in a pocket and eyes that have seen it all. god only knows how they ended up here, but love them or hate them, they’re not going anywhere. ⸻
BIO:
TW: Character death, Car Accident.
Brandon Sklenar by Manfred Baumann (2026) [x]

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