As you’ve been made aware this is a blog specifically for my Wynonna Earp OC’s and will be filled with drabbles, HC’s, moodboards, and anything else that comes to mind for these characters whom I adore very much.
Feel free to ask questions in the inbox or request certain topics to focus on for certain ones. Or ask questions of said characters if you dare. This is their space so I cannot guarantee your safety should you ask the wrong question.
Beneath the cut is a list with the general tag of the characters here so you can keep an eye on who lurks in this part of Purgatory.
*~*~*~*~*
Revenants
Axel Rhodes
Derrick “Deke” Culverson
Dirk Shepherd
Earl Slater
Emery Drake
Jonas Dillinger
Kit Langsely
Lawson Greaves
Reese Ackleman
Riker Ascott
Sampson Shepherd
Human
Deanna Somers (Familiar to Lawson and Emery)
Elaine Walker (Familiar to Dirk, Sampson, and Axel)
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Disclaimer: I own the plot and Mordecai and everything else is borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made.
Setting: Prior to Season 1.
Pairing: None
Rating: PG
After Bobo Del Rey deals with his father, Mordecai aids him in convincing a certain problematic Revenant from the area along with offering something to the male as a token of his esteem. Lines are slowly blurred between purely business and something more familiar between the half-djinn and the Revenant King...
Author’s Note: I can honestly say that the friendship that blossoms between these two is one of my favorite things about this timeline. And honestly, Bobo Del Rey deserves all the friends at this point.
*~*~*~*
Small Steps
He’s not surprised how little time it takes for his request to be carried out especially after the trap is set and his sire is made aware of his presence. Egotism had always been a core part of the male he’d met only a few times, and he was grateful it was that little. This abandoned barn would suffice for finishing this entire mess and he gets to work with the sharp implements ignoring the blood and gore that this was amassing as he skins the large, very dead Djinn trapped in his animal form.
In the end, the departed creature deserved it. The sheer amount of souls he’d had the “pleasure” of taking for misuse of his own abilities was staggering and what he was about to do was a disgrace and humiliation that would be fitting the crimes. So he works slowly, diligently.
“I’m surprised you’re bothering with this,” comes an almost amused remark a few days later.
“If anyone has never educated you on a Djinn, Bobo Del Rey, then allow me to point out that there is still power to be had in the skin of one. More so the fur of the animal they travel as. It has magical properties; allows one to not be taken in by some forms of magical manipulation.”
“And what were you planning on doing with it?” There is honest curiosity and Mordecai smiles before he gazes over his shoulder at the male.
“Gifting it to one who seems to have a Revenant problem with a very charismatic individual. It will also temper a few of the spells that your....confidante can do. Not all of them. But a few.”
“You…”
The honest surprise makes him chuckle before he returns to his task. “Yes, and besides, if you are going for the aesthetic of someone intimidating, then you need a bit more of an addition to your attire. Also, take it as the gratitude of one who really wanted this creature out of the picture. As much as his clan followed him; enough of them hated him to desire this almost as much as me. There is nothing to be gained from getting attention garnered on certain beings and the Djinn know that better than anyone. Secrecy is a better method of staying alive especially with how...intolerant humans can be and how easily riled they are.”
“And how much they do like to kill things,” Bobo agrees mildly, “So definitely would not like one going rogue like that.”
“No, absolutely not,” Mordecai agrees, “So, is it an acceptable gift?”
“You treat all your business partners like this?”
His lips curve upwards before he remarks, “Just the ones I’m beginning to like.”
“I am not sure that’s a favorable thing, you realize; thinking a demon is worth befriending.”
He gives a shrug of his shoulders. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But you and I both know that it takes more than labels to make one a monster, Bobo Del Rey.”
“Suppose you have a point to that so I wouldn’t say no to a gift. That would just be rude.”
*~*~*~*
The sight of the coat adorning the other is something and Mordecai grins. “You look sufficiently unapproachable now.”
“Fantastic as I do not need everyone and sundry asking for my time and attention,” comes the bemused response, “but speaking of charismatic Revenants...I would like your help in moving him along. There’s enough of this goddamn place that he can be a prick elsewhere.”
“I suppose I can give him a good reason to tote his wares elsewhere,” Mordecai answers evenly, “Considering that I do owe you a debt.”
He is expecting the trouble this brings. Lou is not a compromising individual but neither is the half-Djinn considering a place in Purgatory. His companion finds out firsthand just what his magic is capable of before he gives the hint that this isn’t an idle threat and Mordecai’s teeth are sharper than hers. Lou does not hang around long enough to find out what sort of things Mordecai will do to them if they continue this nonsense.
Tired and worn out, Mordecai does something he hasn’t in a while and slips into the form of an animal. He wonders as he slowly pads through the woods if it will ever be something that Bobo Del Rey understands the meaning behind. It’s a consideration for another time, he decides as he limps for the place he knows Bobo Del Rey stays and lays by the door. Everything was a consideration for later.
He sleeps fitfully for a while before dozing off. Jumbled voices is what slowly pulls him back. “...you mean leave it? You do realize what that is don’t you?”
“How about you don’t question me?” comes the familiar and irritated tone of one Bobo Del Rey.
Mordecai slowly blinks into awareness and raises his head to gaze at the small cluster gazing at him. He watches Bobo snort softly as he approaches despite the clear distrust before crouching down. “Gave even you a bit of trouble, huh? Hope this means he’s left.” Slowly, he leans his head and nuzzles the offered hand. “Fantastic. One headache out of the way. I can handle that.”
“Boss…”
“This is Mordecai,” comes the immediate answer, “He’s a partner of mine and half-djinn. Apparently, he also...turns into a coyote.” There is a pause at the end, almost curiosity and Mordecai knows their next conversation is going to be an interesting one. The feel of the male’s fingers carding through his fur has his eyes falling shut again at the soft touch and he allows himself to enjoy this while he can. Sometimes all one could do was savor the good things.
There were too few of them these days it seemed.
*~*~*~*
“You turn into a coyote?”
There is quiet a moment before he says, “I do now.”
“You…” A low chuckle follows. “Seriously have I told you to be careful about befriending demons?”
“You did,” he answers immediately, “So know that I have an idea what I’m doing.”
“You sure? Because that certainly doesn’t seem to say that.”
“Maybe you just don’t trust yourself anymore, Bobo Del Rey, but that doesn’t make it any less true that I do.”
“You know that’s dangerous, right?”
“Of course, I do. I just think that the benefits outweigh any potential risk that’s all.”
He watches the other snorts and shake his head. “I don’t suppose you’re going to listen to caution are you?”
“About what? You are not half as bad as you claim to be, Bobo Del Rey. You have a way of doing things and sometimes it’s not the easiest or the cleanest path but it’s yours. I am not here to tell you how to live your life or criticize your choices. I’m here to do what I can to help and in return have people who understand what it’s like not to be fully human. That’s all. So, yes, I turn into a coyote.”
There is quiet a moment before there would come, “It’s Robert, actually.”
“Robert?”
“Mmhmm, Robert Svane. He was a timid, mousy thing. Got cursed when he went to back up Wyatt against a demon sheriff. Fun times.”
Realization comes slowly before would come, “You may call me Kai if it pleases you, Robert.”
“Kai, huh? I like it. Suits you. Feel free to wander to the park however you want, Kai. The boys’ll get used to you in time. And if not...feel free to bite them until they do.”
“You sure they don't have rabies?”
He watches the other cock his head a moment before remarking, “Let me do some checking and get back to you,” which has him laughing softly.
Of Cake and Conversations (Kit Langsely Introduction)
Series: Wynonna Earp
Disclaimer: Kit and the plot are mine while everything else is borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made.
Setting: End of Season 1 UA compliant
Pairing: Background pairings of Levi/Fish and Lawson/Emery mentioned.
Rating: PG-13 (mentions of a bleeding disorder)
When Wynonna ends up at the park, it becomes Kit’s issue to deal with interrupting him in his trailer. Instead of engaging in a shouting match with the Heir, he decides that perhaps a bit of history will do her some good.
*~*~*~*
Of Cake and Conversations
A steady beep has him shifting his attention from the book in his hands before he’d mark his place and rise heading for the small kitchen space and turning off the timer before opening the oven to check inside. The smell of the cake fills the small space and he lets out a sigh of delight. It was perfect. He reaches and turns the oven off before grabbing a mitt and carefully pulling the pan out to set it on the stove. Now it would need time to cool and then he could decorate it. Humming low in his throat, he heads back to the small bench content at the moment that things were going well.
That a well-baked cake topped that list was probably something but as a Revenant, sometimes it was the simple things that one had to count. And Kit Langsley knew above all else that things could go sour at a moment’s notice no matter what was attempted otherwise. So it was best to enjoy things while he could. The cloying smell of chocolate tickles his senses as he settles back with his book. He’d been having a craving for cake lately and had finally given in getting a mix at the store. While box mixes weren’t his favorite way to work: sometimes one had to do what they could with what they had. A cramped trailer did not afford him space for ingredients.
He’s gotten a few pages in before there’s a knock at his door that has him tensing somewhat not expecting company. He sets the book aside and heads for the door, lips pursed as he isn’t sure anything good comes from random appearances here. Opening it, he finds Levi and his heart sinks. “What’s going on?”
“She’s here and someone needs to be the voice of reason,” comes his low, tense tone, “I-I don’t know anyone else who might be able to keep this from going too south, Kit.”
He huffs annoyed that he might not get to finish his dessert but knowing better than to ignore this sort of plea, he steps all the way out of his trailer. “If I’m not back in half an hour please put my cake in the fridge would you?”
“Sure and really, I am sorry about this.”
“Not as sorry as whoever got her here in whatever mood she’s in,” he answers as he heads down. He doesn’t even have to ask where because his curse mark burns the closer he comes and he knows she has Peacemaker out and that fact alone bodes well.
“...about I just shoot you and this problem has one less number in it?” Her voice is sharp, acidic and it’s clear a line somewhere has been crossed.
“Wynonna Earp,” he says keeping his tone neutral even as she turns, the gun’s aim shifted to him, “to what do we owe the visit?”
“Don’t act like you’re remotely human,” comes the warning, “Because I know better.”
“There is no need to be rude, Miss Earp, especially when you’ve been told that coming here is not allowed per your own treaty while our boss isn’t here.”
“I do not have time to wait for…”
“You are not above your own rules,” he interrupts not unkindly, “because if you are then clearly you have no honor here, either.” The look of disgust she flashes has him merely smiling congenitally at her and murmuring, “You made this treaty, both of you did. So you are just as bound to the rules as he is. Since he has business to attend to and you do not seem to have thought it enough of an emergency to call him, you need to leave.”
He hears the click of the safety being released but does not allow it to rankle him even though he feels the curse pounding behind his eye. She could play all she wanted but she wasn’t going to shoot him. Not unless he gave her a reason to. He sees the other tense, shoulders tightening and a swirl of red in his gaze and remarks, “Go on back to your games, fellas, I’ve got this.” His hands slide into his pockets as he stares at Wynonna. “Well, Heir, what’s it going to be?”
“You really want to pretend to be a victim?”
“No,” he answers, “but I am not going to be bullied by yet another Earp. So let me impart the same wisdom I did to your great, great grandfather; if you honestly believe in something or someone then be willing to do what it takes to keep the lines you draw. Do not half-ass it. No one and nothing is worth only half of your will.”
“Did he have the intense desire to punch you in the face like I do?”
“He did punch me,” Kit answers, “Gave me a bloody nose. Pity for him that I was a hemophiliac and died three days later.” He watches her go very, very still.
“Wait…What…”
Kit laughs humorlessly. “I was telling your great-great grandfather to be careful how he treated a man like Doc Holliday. He didn’t approve of someone, even someone, who grew up where Doc had been born, telling him what to do. So yeah, he punched me. And I eventually bled out. The curse that came along a few years later….was not fun at all. Some of us who died years before the curse weren’t in hell. We got dragged there when it was brought into being. Just, you know, for some history.”
“You…” There is silence before would come, “Tell him when you see him next that we need to talk.”
It’s very satisfying to watch her storm off, ashen and unsteady. Kit stands there and watches unwilling to withdraw until he watches her truck pull onto the road. “You okay, Kitten?”
He snorts at the nickname. “Yeah, fine. Don’t particularly like the headache but I’ll live. What happened?”
“Don’t know,” comes the admission, “She just showed up and started waving Peacemaker and yellin’. Maybe one of us should text the boss and let him know in case she comes back again.”
"Probably a good idea," he agrees pulling his phone out, "Though, I think the history lesson did her some good." He shoots a text to Bobo Del Rey before remarking, “Let me know if she comes back. But unless the Boss is here, tell Hui and Howard they do not need to let her in. Just let her scream by the gate and keep out of firing range. She made the treaty the same as him. She’s not above it no matter who she says she is.”
“Fair enough. Thanks for the assist, Kitten.”
He grimaces as he slides the phone back into his pocket. “Why the hell is my nickname that? It’s longer than my actual name, you realize.”
“Because you’re adorable. Like a kitten.”
The laughter this draws has him growling under his throat before throwing a rude gesture as he stalks back for his trailer deciding he had a cake to deal with and did not want to waste anymore time with morons on either side of the issue.
Kitten. The entire compound had collectively chosen that as his nickname. He has no idea how the hell that had happened and decides that’s a migraine for another time. Noting Levi hovering still by the trailer, he murmurs, “She’s unhappy but she’s gone. I sent a text to the boss so he knows. Honestly, she’s going to need a better reason to come next time.”
“Good, good. I really am sorry to have interrupted your evening but you’re the only one here at the moment who is reasonable. Emery had to go and deal with Lawson at work or I would have gone to him and Earl’s out for the evening.”
“Well, I mean that’s a compliment but also...need to get some sensible Revs here on the regular,” he remarks before smiling softly, “Go on and return to Fish. All should be well.”
“Have a good night, Kit.”
“You, too, Levi.”
Stepping into his trailer, he closes his eyes at the lingering smell of chocolate and decides that yes, he deserved that cake after all of this. “Kitten,” he mutters as he heads for the small kitchen, “Seriously? Demons, I swear.”
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Disclaimer: Earl and the plot are mine while everything else is borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made.
Setting: Season 1 Compliant
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13 (mentions of past abuse and highly suggested non-consensual cannibalism)
Bobo Del Rey has a heart-to-heart with Earl Slater about his past. The Revenant in question holds nothing back.
*~*~*~*
The Truth
“So, will you level with me?”
The question has the male snorting as he flips a burger. “You think I'm gonna have a problem talkin' bout myself? Really?”
“At this point, I've had a long week and I don't even know anymore what to expect from demons.”
“You know I'll be the first to tell you that my death was earned in the scope of the incident. I murdered a man. More than that; I murdered a marshal.”
“Well, that wasn't a smart move.”
Earl presses the patty down against the rack before remarking, “He ended my baby-sister's life being an abusive prick and I tried to go through the proper channels first. No one would even consider something like that. She was a suicide, they said. She'd been having some outbursts and was clearly going south.”
His jaw tightens a moment. “I tried to get her to file complaints but she was too afraid of him at that point. I told her to just come and stay with me and I would handle it but she wasn't willing to risk my safety. There were our other siblings to consider as well. And maybe she was just being too sensitive. Bobo Del Rey, I raised her from a three-year-old after our parents died. She was the baby of the family. And knowing that prick ended her life was unforgivable. So yeah, I tried making a fuss, tried everything that a decent man could do.
And when they flat-out refused to even consider it, I decided it wasn't worth being decent anymore. My two other siblings were happy, healthy, and didn't need me anymore which is why I decided to take matters into my own hands. He approached me first while I was at my butcher shop. I hadn't even planned it out yet but he made the choice for me. I wanted to ignore him, get an idea of what to do. But then he started talkin' 'bout my sister. About the night in question. About how no one was ever going to be able to pin it on him.
And I'll be honest; I got livid. But I still tried for sensible...until he pulled out his gun. Then I will admit it was over. The moment he slipped it from it's sheathe, I reacted without fully thinking about it and buried the meat cleaver I was holding right between his eyes before slamming it in deep with the tenderizer mallet I grabbed with my other hand. The thud he made I'll remember to this day.
It actually took the adrenaline and anger cooling for me to realize I'd just killed him. A marshal. While that had been my end goal; every thought and wish and prayer was in that direction, I hadn't realized how big of a thing this was. So I did the one thing I could; I handle him as a professional butcher and hid the parts in back hoping to get an idea of what to do with them.
Those same parts would be found a week or two later after the investigation started. I didn't even put up much of a fight at that point. It's an awful thing to take someone's life. More so when it's out of rage and hate. That's something that will stick to you no matter what the outerlaying reasons. Taking a life is not a joking matter.” He pauses a moment before remarking, “Though, I have to wonder if anyone who bought from me in that week before they realized I was a murderer, found the meat to taste differently.”
Bobo stills and stares at him before going, “Earl. Earl, you didn't!”
His lips curve into a sneer. “They were complacent in his actions just as much as his marshal friends. They deserved it.” As he watches the other Rev's eyes shift to the meat and he snorts. “Don't even concern yourself, brat. It's beef.”
“You sure?”
He points the spatula at the male. “Don't sass the cook, mister. You know how that ends. And besides, the whole point of me is to keep them from eating people. Not give a reason for doing it more. He was the only one I ever served others. And it wasn't enough for them to be suspicious that they hadn't gotten all the parts of him.” His lips curve. “Suppose it was cruel but again, at the time, I think I was angry enough not to care. Like I said, that was my baby sister. Hell, though, I'd have done it for any of the others, too. You do not mess with what's mine.”
“Hence why you hover and mother-hen everyone to death.”
“Well, you all make it easy because you are so bad at takin' care of yourselves.” He flips the burger again before continuing, “So there you have it. I murdered the bastard who abused my sister and ended her life. And I fed parts of him to the same people who didn't care enough to look into it. Wouldn't have gone so ill, I suppose, if he wasn't a marshal but those types...seemed to think that they were above even God in some places.”
“Please do not ever serve us any of the Revs that annoy you, Earl.”
His lips curve at that and he laughs before remarking, “Now, Del Rey, that would be an insult to good grilling to use bad meat.” He slides the burger to the side. “Was there anything else, you needed?”
“No, just wanted a bit of an idea of who you were under all that.”
“I raised my siblings when an accident took our parents, Del Rey. Those were my family and I was damn protective of them. Until I couldn't be. And at that point, you trust other people to feel the same if not more responsible especially when it comes to marriage. You do not break those vows and still get to claim yourself a good or decent man. You just don't.”
“No,” comes the agreement, “That is very right. Sorry if I dredged up too much of the past.”
“Ain't even that. You can't dredge up what doesn't quiet. Hell likes to remind you of the things that you didn't get or couldn't do, you know. The worst things. I can't really sleep at nights without remembering the sight of her laying like a broken doll. I hope that fucker got a worse version of hell than I did. Hope he was impaled on a pitchfork and slow-roasted.”
“We can only hope that those who wronged us paid but...as we've found out; justice sometimes is never meted out.”
“No, you are right about that,” Earl says before smiling warmly, “but know this, brat; ain't a question I won't answer to put your mind at ease. Ya should know that by now.”
“I'll keep that in mind. Thanks though. For the honesty. And hell, for keeping a leash on some of the more obstinate ones. I appreciate the help.”
“Ain't a problem. I don't mind lookin' after others. Prefer it as it gives me somethin' to do. So don't worry about me none, Bobo Del Rey. I'm on your side.”
“Which is a relief because you have a hell of a talent on the grill.”
“Oh, I know it.”
“And you have a hell of an ego, too.”
He grins at the other Revenant, eyes glinting, “Oh, I know that, too, brat. Now get on outta here and deal with the problem-children. You know they can't be left alone long.”
Bobo groans before muttering, “No, no they can't. Fucking Revenants.”
“Yes, well you are sort of fond of those as it were.”
“Earl, do us both a favor and don't ever tell them that. Then I'll never get rid of them.”
“Problem with that, as I know you are aware of, is we both know they know better.”
The grumbling reply which is nothing complimentary has him chuckling and adding, “Yeah, I know but you signed up for this when you took us all in. But again, I'm here to help so don't hesitate to let me do that. 'Tween us both we should be able to keep idiocies to a minimum. Hopefully.”
“Not sure that's a thing around here. Especially in a town called Purgatory.”
“Optimism then if you're not going to have hope.”
“At this point, I'd rather have whiskey.”
Earl can't help laughing and murmuring, “Don't really blame you there.”
Hemophilia is what killed him; he said a few harsh words to Wyatt Earp about how he spoke of Doc Holliday as he was from Doc’s hometown. Everyone knew about John Henry Holliday and everything he’d been through. Warning the Marshall to be careful of how he treated someone like that earned him a blow to the face...and a bloody nose.
...That didn’t stop bleeding. This would unfortunately be how he found out about the disease as he’d never had an injury bad enough to be noticeable beforehand.
Years later, the curse would end up with him in Hell and back as a Revenant. This time though, now he had the ability to control how slow or fast someone bled and to force blood through their pores or other orifices making him one of the more dangerous Revenants.
However, this isn’t anything that really interests the male in using unless he has to. His primary focus (as it had been when he was human) is food. He loves to bake and cook. While Earl is master of the grill, Kit is fantastic with everything else (and has a bit of a sweet tooth).
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Disclaimer: Emery and Lawson are mine as is the plot while everything else is borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made.
Setting: Season One Compliant
Pairing: Emery Drake/Lawson Greaves
Rating: PG
No one is prepared for Doc Holliday to come stumbling into the park not considering the piss-poor situation at hand. Emery Drake could live without having to deal with the mess the entire situation is but there are just some things a gentleman doesn’t ignore no matter if one is a cursed demon.
*~*~*~*
Protection
“What...the hell?!”
The bewilderment mixed with anger is what gets his attention first. Carefully, he slides the violin back in its case and rises knowing that at this juncture nothing that evoked that sort of mixed emotions was particularly promising. Emery is not a fool and this was already messy enough what with the newest Heir there and in “fine” form. Of course upon approach he’s definitely not ready to see the male who was staring in a mix of unease and distress.
It was Doc Holliday. The Doc Holliday.
He moves around the group who he was sure meant that this was going to end up in a mess and gives a smooth, “I’m going to guess that there is something magical afoot, John Henry Holliday, as I’m sure you’re not a Revenant.” He watches blue eyes go guarded and uncertain and snorts softly. “Thought as much.”
“Emery…” comes the warning that has him shifting his attention back over his shoulder and he knows this will not end well if he pushes forward with his choices. Unfortunately, he has no intention of allowing what no doubt would be an awful time for the gunslinger. Demon or not, Emery still is not about to let someone suffer needlessly.
That decided, he once again shifts his attention back to the wary male. “Since you look like someone who definitely is not ready for what he’s found, come along. We need to talk.”
“Emery.” This time his name is a threat and he gives the speaker a sunny smile.
“You can snarl all you want but this isn’t up to you. Talk to the Boss,” he retorts as he watches the male slowly shift towards him clearly sensing at least an ally. Emery makes sure to keep him against his side opposite the other Revenants as he brings him to the outskirts and a small empty trailer. “Inside,” he says quietly, “It’ll be easier to keep you out of their crosshairs for the time being.”
He can sense the tension in the other when he closes the door and watches the male almost hover by the chair. “How much do you know?” he asks as he makes himself comfortable on the small bench by the door.
“There’s a curse at work. That’s...what I recall from my last meetin’ with Wyatt. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming wit’ the details before he ended our friendship over my personal choices.”
“Which is why you are here looking just as you did before minus…” He cocks his head, “Ah, yes that would be it. You didn’t want to die. Well, Doc Holliday, I’m afraid you’ve managed to wander right into a group of cursed demons called Revenants. All of us were killed one way or another by your “dear” Wyatt Earp so you can understand the underlying desire to hurt you.”
“Suppose I get that,” he says quietly, “Might I have your name at the very least?”
“Emery Drake,” comes the easy reply, “And honestly, I have the least bit of ill-will towards everyone’s least favorite marshall. Honestly, the curse is far more troublesome. Might I ask where you stumbled in from?”
“A well...where I was pushed by a witch I am planning on murderin’.”
Emery is quiet as he listens as he has a sinking suspicion that he knows is not his business to tell, instead he focuses on the part of the situation can be discussed. “You’ve spent a few decades in a well?”
“Since...1887, I believe. What year is it now?”
“It’s 2016,” he says quietly, “You’ve been in a well for over a hundred years.” Noting the rising panic, he brings a hand up. “Don’t. Relax. Honestly, you are less of a problem then what is going on with the newest Earp Heir. So just take a breath. Right now, let’s get you cleaned up so you look less like you climbed out of said well. It’s not becoming of a gentleman of your stature.”
It’s not easy to get him to rescind his claim on his clothing and Emery knows to be careful with the items. He locks the door as he slips out before heading for where he needs to go. Of course he’s only at his truck before he hears, “Are you fucking kidding me, Drake?”
He slowly sets the items in the passenger side before gazing at the Revenant glaring at him. “Red, I don’t know why you think this is up for discussion or why you think I’d ever be intimidated by the likes of you.”
“You know the Boss ain’t gonna like someone protectin’ Doc fuckin’ Holliday, either.”
“Well the Boss can tell me that himself. Until then, remember that I’m a gentleman and there are certain things you do not do to another.”
“You are going to regret this. You know where his loyalty lies.”
There is a shrug as he walks around the truck. “Perhaps, but that is not the point in this. So keep your sharp teeth to yourself at this point. He’s in my orbit and until the Boss makes a ruling he’s allowed to stay.”
“Tch.”
Emery chuckles. “Gnash your teeth all you want, it's still the rules. Break them and you and I will have a conversation and you know that’s going to end poorly.” The threat is given with a look of cold contempt that he notes Red immediately recognizes as the Rev steps back. He watches him go back towards the park before pulling out a small phone and dialing a number. “Hey, do me a favor would you? There’s a new addition to the park in the small empty trailer by mine. Can you stay by it until I get back?”
“Why do I think you’re up to something?”
“You know me, that’s why. I’m sure if you haven’t run into anyone you will by the time you get back so we’ll talk when I get back. Which will be soon, I promise.”
There is a quiet pause before would come, “Fantastic. Be careful, Minstrel.”
He chuckles softly, “Oh, you’re going to find that’s impossible at this point.” That’s where he leaves the conversation so that he can take care of the items in his possession. Sometimes it was the small things that could help ground a person feeling like a stranger in a strange place. Being shoved back after only thirty-ish years was harrowing enough so he cannot imagine over a hundred years stuck in a well.
*~*~*~*~*
His return is met by Lawson whose gaze is guarded and dismayed. “Are you serious?” he demands in a low voice, “You have Doc Holliday in that trailer?”
“Right now is not the time for this,” he answers as he maneuvers around him with the outfit in his arms; a familiar dark hat atop it, “There are more important issues to sort through that has nothing to do with the gentleman here.”
“Except…”
He huffs at the red-head before retorting, “We’re not arguing my choices here, Lawson. I’ll take full responsibility for this.”
“Oh, I am sure that you are going to be dealing with our irate boss at this point.”
He shrugs before he opens the door. “I’ll risk it. Thank you for at least looking after the trailer.”
“Just...don’t make the Boss drag you across the line for stupidity, okay?”
“I know,” he answers, “That’s not my plan.”
“I doubt it ever is but…”
Emery chuckles. “No, I get it. Let me go and check on him and be sure he hasn’t drowned himself in the shower.”
“Would be simpler if he had.”
“Lawson, be a gentleman would you?”
“I’m an outlaw, remember? The gentleman in this relationship is definitely you. Just be careful, Minstrel. Like I said.”
“I will be as careful as I can at this juncture.” He steals a kiss before he unlocks and heads into the small trailer. Moving for the small room with the shower, he taps before murmuring, “Your clothes are clean again, Doc.” It’s a long moment before the door would crack so he could hand the items inside. And a few minutes longer before the male rejoins him in the main room looking more put together than before. “How are you feeling?”
“Less like I spent way too long in that well,” comes the quiet response, “Thank you.”
Emery smiles as he settles on the bench before murmuring, “Don’t thank me yet. We still have a lot to discuss and a few things for you to understand about where you are.” As he watches, Doc settes again on the couch and gazes at him; blue eyes calmer more alert.
Signs of Home (Amaranthe Caldwell Introduction Drabble)
Series: Wynonna Earp
Disclaimer: Amaranthe is mine as is the plot and everything else is borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made.
Setting: Season One Compliant
Pairing: One-sided relationship between OC’s (this will be touched upon in future drabbles/series)
Rating: PG
There were some truths that Amaranthe disliked above all when it came to herself. However, the one thing that was hers alone she’d defend. In the end, she’s not sure if the lack of control she feels she has is going to be a blessing or a curse at this point…
*~*~*~*~*
Signs of Home
It was almost a reflexive instinct when she was feeling nervous or out of sorts, her fingers curling around the necklace under her shirt; the worn wood beneath her fingers is a familiar feeling that brought one of safety. It happened usually without her realizing it until someone pointed it out and asked. And wasn’t that a conversation starter?
Now is no different, insecurities falling hard and fast have her fingers tightening around the figurine hidden beneath her shirt. “You okay?” the question has her blinking a moment before realizing the speaker was gazing downwards. Following, she realizes that she’s clutching her necklace and forces herself to release.
“Umm, yeah, sorry. Habit.”
“You have to forgive Amaranthe,” a voice chimes in, “She gets made nervous easily so she plays with the ugly necklace she’s had since she was like thirteen. And, honestly, Amaranthe, I don’t know why you keep the creepy thing.”
She wants to and barely manages to refrain from curling her fingers back around the figurine in a protective display before rebuking, “That’s no way to speak of something that is mine by choice. I do not insult your taste in things so kindly leave my necklace alone.”
“It’s a creepy red-eyed coyote,” comes the immediate response, “and it looks like it’s going to bite someone. Probably has rabies if the eyes are anything to go by.”
She huffs at the words. “They show their teeth when threatened or protecting something important to them. That’s all. And the red eyes...are exotic, I admit but it fits. And as I said; I chose the necklace so leave it alone.”
“And this is why you don’t have a coven or a community.”
Her jaw tightens a moment before she rises more than done with the conversation. Ignoring the calls to her to come back and stop being so sensitive, she stalks out of the building and for her car.
They could say what they wanted about what made her undesirable; her magics, her body, her personality but she drew the line at insulting her coyote necklace. That was not something she forgave.
It was the only thing that felt like home.
Of course she is not all that surprised at the figure waiting for her as she arrives back at the apartment. They were more his friends than hers after all. “You should not be so rude, Amaranthe,” comes the rebuke that has her shoulders tightening.
“They know not to disrespect what is mine by choice,” she answers struggling to keep her tone level.
“Well, we all know how good your choices have been thus far haven't we?”
Something twists painfully in her as not for the first time, she wonders if this was all she was going to amount to; a trapped practitioner in a place that had no use for her abilities in a relationship with a man who only put up with her and didn't see much more than a burden on most days.
The answer is not a comforting notion.
Pushing through it, she says quietly, “It doesn't change how I feel about things.”
“No, I suspect not. You never were a quick learner. Anyway, I didn't really want to argue with you about that tacky figurine. I got a call from a business partner who needs my help. So pack up because we're taking a trip out to see him.”
She gazes at him gauging how far an argument might get her on the basis of having things and priorities of her own and is sure it will only end badly. So she gives a quiet, “Of course. I'll handle my affairs. Do you know how long we'll be gone?”
“Can't be sure as he wasn't specific on the phone. He prefers face-to-face conversations, you see. He's sort of...old-fashioned that way. So we're going to Purgatory to meet him. You'll get a kick out of the place, I promise.”
Amaranthe is not sure she believes him as she knows what his promises are worth. 'Optimism,' she tells herself as she heads towards to her room to pack, 'Who knows, this might go better than even you expect.'
What is the favorite things for Riker to paint? (aside other people's heads ^-^)
There is a look of chagrin and a low embarrassed cough as a hand goes through dark locks. “Well, when I’m not throwing paint at other Revenants, it sort of depends upon the mood and sometimes task. I like working at the park and helping make the place look less like heathens live here. But if you are asking about personal stuff; landscapes are one of my favorite things to draw and there are a lot of them to see around here.” He gives a shifty gaze before his voice lowers, “But between you and me, Miss, I also love painting people. And there are fantastic chances to draw around here. I have a few I’ve worked on thanks to drunk Revenants and Doc Holliday. Also a lot of the Boss. He makes for a fantastic subject. So many different emotional responses on a given day.”
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Is a magical practitioner whose abilities are more elemental and require community and/or a coven to help ground and protect during more vulnerable times. Unable to really find either, she’s in a relationship with a man who knows and understands what her magics are and can do but is not supportive.
Her most “telling” item is a red-eyed coyote necklace she got when she was thirteen because to her it felt like home. She wears it under her shirt most of the time because it gets some...unpleasant commentary and she doesn’t particularly like having to defend something that means a lot to her without understanding fully why.
And then her fiance ends up called to a town named Purgatory to help a business partner of his out. Amaranthe isn’t expecting a lot from this entire situation though she goes with him regardless. And realizes that there is a lot more to this place than she expected; it’s teeming with magic and so many possibilities.
Of course she finds out that there was a practitioner here who was not exactly a pleasant individual so she’s looked at with mistrust and suspicion which shouldn’t bother her as much as it does...
Until someone makes a comment about coyotes and links it to the Revenants...
