An exhausting, dormant rage has finally erupted within him. Has been pumping through his veins, roaring in his heart for so very long that he damn near FORGOT what it felt like to be calm. Happy. Blissfully ignorant of his very own suffering. The past few days have made the gentle giant utterly unrecognizable — his weathered face twisted into a scowl, his white-knuckle grip holding a mace dripping in fresh viscera, and his clothes soaked in blood that certainly wasn’t his own. 

But the sound of her voice from the shadows is enough to quell the storm in his newly-awakened mind. To steady the rapid, laboring, burning breaths of his artificial lungs. To bring the memories flashing before his eyes to FOCUS on a sweet little girl with mousy brown hair, one who he’s practically raised over the years, without even knowing he’d done so. Not until now.

     “ … Ellie? ”

August remembers it all. Everything. The pranks they’d pull on the other hosts. The way he’d carry her on his shoulders so she could get a better view of the sunset, of the crowd, of his world. The late evenings after closing time when he taught her how to ride a horse, to fish, to hunt, to throw axes. The collection of trinkets she’d given him over the decades that still stand proudly on his bedside table. The small elephant figurine he made for her birthday.  

He approaches her slowly, cautiously. More than aware that, given his blood-drenched shirt and skin, it’s likely going to take some CONVINCING to assure her that he means her no harm. All he can hope is that the concern on his face is human enough to communicate his genuine care for the young lady he’s come to consider family. UNCLE GUS. That’s what she always called him. And he wonders if she can still manage to look at him the same way, given the state of him. Of this hell hole he calls home. He reaches out a hand and, although he does not touch her, August aches to embrace her and comfort her as he’s done so MANY times before.

He stares on as the sopping red splotch on her shirt continues to dye the fabric, blood all but pouring from her wound. The sight alone is enough to bring a tear to the host’s eye.

     “ Oh hell, darlin’ — who did this t’ya? ” 

The barrel of the pistol trailed the figure as they shifted through the abandoned room; tentatively waiting for a reason to pull the trigger. Her heartbeat overwhelmingly pounded in her chest, stretching to her fingertips and heard every deafening beat. Every step taken in her direction heightened her apprehension. Her hold around the grip tightened as she pressed herself further into the wall.

Emily attentively watched at the stranger in front of her, eyes narrowed and tense attitude, unflinching. The gun remained pointed with a steady aim as her finger moved to the trigger, a simple gesture, nevertheless an inimical warning. When the man stood in front of her, Emily remained wary of his presence. From bloodstained clothes and skin to his sun-beaten features - she studied every minuscule detail as she maintained a hostile atmosphere with a drawn firearm and cautious nature. As they lingered in the vacant room an unsettling silence flooded, transforming soundless noises such a gentle breeze into howling gusts. Her expression instantly softened once Emily recognized precisely the person - or host - that was before her.

As a child, Westworld was never her favorite, but it held some sentiment. William took her there often, it was their father-daughter time. The risk-less adventures, thrilling experiences, and the endless stretch of land were enjoyable, but most of the fondest memories happened in Sweetwater - ironically. Nothing compared to the modest town. She would beg her father to take her along before smuggling in priceless mementos into the park for one host - August.

The worrisome question dragged her back into reality. She followed his gaze down to her bleeding wound then back to Gus. All incidents leading up to the present stirred her inner feelings producing a dangerous combination of mixed emotions. Beneath the exhilaration of the reunion, frustration festered deep within her chest. From her mother's suicide to her father's far-fetched fantasies only contributed to her preexisting enmity. Mixed in with the anger there was a firm grasp on affliction and grief. When William dismissed her desperate efforts for him to believe that she wasn't a host... A sense of immense dread engulfed her. His actions did more damage than the bullets fired at her.

Emily bit her lip, looking away from August as she composed herself before all her condensed emotions led into an unwanted outburst. Despite her desperate efforts, she faltered for brief moments. She couldn't bring herself to give eye contact at the man, each attempt brought her back to square one. 

Inhaling a deep breath, finally recollecting herself, her response dripping resentment, "𝐌𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐝."

When she pays for his drinks and yet replies with such defiance, admittedly Samuel is rather taken aback; it is rare for a woman to speak back to him, in truth it is ever rarer that he gives one cause to, but regardless, he admires her grit, even if he does suspect it’s likely to get her in trouble in a town like this.

“Escalante is about a weeks’ ride from here to the South West, it’s at the bottom of the Unclaimed Territories…dangerous down there.” Samuel confirms, studying her expression. In truth the last thing he wants to do is encounter that demon in black again, but that stanch hesitation is at odds with his programming, the code that beckons him to interact with guests so he can help them fulfil their desire for adventure.

“But I wouldn’t recommend heading down there yourself Miss…” He states flatly, leaning against the bar, a change in his demeanour only obvious to those paying very close attention.

“…not without a man who knows the area…kind of man who sleeps with his finger on the trigger…”

He turns to her, there is no smile on his face and yet his stance does seem warmed somehow.

“…kind of man who would expect to be paid well for his trouble.”

---- At the edge of the Southwest region of the map - alright, it sounded relatively straightforward. Due to her involvement and lineage, Emily knew the general layout of the park to get on the right track although it wasn’t perfect. 

“𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.” Giving a small nod and brief smile, she dismissed herself from the bar.

Being a few paces out when the host volunteered to show her the location of the desolate town, Emily paused to reflect on the offer for several seconds. The suggestion was too pivotal to let it slide by. She returned back to her location and looked at the man at the bar, her interest caught once again. Yet the sudden shift in his manner threw Emily off for a second. A moment ago he was actively refusing to confront the fiend that inhabited the outskirts. Those spouted lines of scripted dialogue made her doubt at her intentions and reasoning. Was she really doing this? 

Her gaze dropped down to the dusty flooring, mulling it over.

“𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝,” Emily firmly promised, glancing up at down at him. “𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲.”

There was no surprise when the individual demanded money in exchange for an escort and, arguably, security. There was always money or compensation to be involved with all generous deeds - it was how the world operated.

He’s staring out at the trees.  He always does. They are so natural to him- they make sense. But this so-called civilisation?- it doesn’t. He wants to try to fit into this world of honest labour and peaceful living with his darling wife. He wants to so desperately. But somehow he is left in this state of longing time and time again. He’s a fox trapped in a cage- Having been taken from a den-a life he’d been so used to.- And he hates himself for it. He hates the way that other men look down on him while he shines their shoes. He hates the way they speak to him- sometimes even spitting in his direction. He hates how he bites back the urge to put his own boot right where the sun doesn’t shine. And most of all, he hates that he can’t change for her. The most beautiful women he’d ever met. Damn him. Damn him to Hell for that. How can he possibly look her in the eyes, knowing that he’d stolen today? After promising to never do it again. He’d promised the most important person in his life something- and broken it…

“𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.”

Hazel brown eyes snap away from the window. He’d been numb to her affectionate gesture up until now. He was just so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t felt anything… His hands move to hold hers, tight. ‘I was miles away.’ He confesses this much, letting out a soft chuckle. ‘I-’ He wants to create some sort of excuse, something other than that, but he can tell by the way she looks at him, that he’s fooling no one. Bessie is just about the only person he can’t lie to, at least not for long- not that he wants to, he disgusts himself whenever he does. But in a way, lying is in his nature. ‘…I was.’ He replied, defeated. 

‘I guess this way of life is- well, it’s yet to grow on me.’ As soon as his frown had appeared, it disappears, being traded for a warm smile. ‘But, I do have you, my dearest, darling, Bessie.’ He leans in to plant a kiss on her cheek- Is this attempt to butter her up- to get her to drop the subject? Partly, yes. But Hosea always switches on the charm when its just the two of them.

There were times when she missed the thrill of the outlaw days, mainly in those momentary seconds when everything around became remarkably monotone. Shifting from an exhilarating standard of living to a calm environment was a challenging adjustment, however, some adapted to the peaceful method of life quicker than the others.

Granted, Bessie missed the open world and the freedoms they held onto, but not the echoes of gunfire paces away or the sting of a grazing bullet. Like Hosea, she had done things like steal valuable items from drunkards, coercing information from unsuspecting individuals, and/or swindling some rich folk - the list was endless. Bessie wasn’t one to hide that part from herself or anyone else. However, as she grew older the risks began to outweigh the benefits, she realized that her life was not worth a short-lived high.  

Her nimble hands loosely grasped Hosea’s as her eyes studied the details that made him unique. As he stammered, Bessie’s hold slowly tightened as her thumb skimmed across the top of his hand, patiently waiting for him accompanied with a wordless encouragement. Her head tilted in the slightest when he admitted his thoughts. Bessie should have felt a sense of triumph when he finally confessed, yet she didn’t; it just wasn’t in her nature to react that way.

‘I guess this way of life is- well, it’s yet to grow on me.’

A tiny laugh escaped her breath which led into a smile, “𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.”

She knew no matter what Hosea claimed… The way he eyed the outer world that stretched to the west - it said otherwise. Bessie had thought about it for a long time, a really long time. She knew the outlaw lifestyle was Hosea’s calling; in some manner it would be cruel to keep him tethered for her own personal desires.

Bessie shifted in silence a smile lingering on her from her husband’s affection, but her eyes shown the opposite. An uneasy silent permeated the room.

“Well ain’t no man can walk through bullets neither.” Samuel quips bitterly. Still unable to understand it, the man laughing as Samuel unloaded his gun into his chest like it was nothing. He may not be a ghost, but that doesn’t mean Sam doesn’t feel haunted by what he’s seen. Such senseless violence and the morbid joy the man took in it has disturbed Samuel and turned his stomach; a sickness that even whiskey can’t seem to settle.

“Up at the Thompson homestead.” He confirms, finally noticing her keen interest in the tail.

“Said something about riding on to Escalante, but everybody knows that town’s been buried under sand for years.“

Studying her, Samuel begins to wonder if she may be a bounty hunter of some kind, she certainly isn’t dressed like most of the woman in this town. Is she hunting this man perhaps? Even if there’s good money in it, it’s not a chase Samuel would condone.

“You ain’t thinkin’ of going after him?” He asks incredulously, shaking his head.

“Woman, have you been listenin’ to a damn word I just said, he’s a dangerous man, I can’t in good conscience, let you go riskin’ yourself over a man like that!”

“𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.” She countered back with a confident tone, interrupting him for a brief second. Emily collected a few items before she paid for the gentleman's bill along with her tab; a token of gratefulness for his troubles and, especially, the valuable information.

"𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐬 - 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬."

Regardless, Emily was going to uncover who this entity was. Unknown to the daughter, her unwavering ambitions paralleled her father's; both pursuing answers to questions, but her hunger for answers was not enough to die over. She still carried a considerable degree of skepticism over the idea of her father being the character this stranger claimed him to be. And after all, she was receiving information from a host (at least she assumed) whose job was to immerse guests into the narrative. Yet her mind nagged at the possibility of the what if's.

She had considered traveling to the first location the host mentioned, Thompson homestead. However, whoever she was seeking would be long gone. She would be following an infinite trail and playing a continuous game of catch up, so progressing towardsEscalante seemed the most reasonable.

♡      𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽 ———       toothy grins ,  stories around the campfire , clothes covered in pet hair , hot temper , old jeans ,  heartbeat in head , potatoes and steak ,  beaded jewelry , bruises like galaxies ,  mementos ,  backpack stuffed full ,  craigslist furniture , spontaneous road trips , air ripped from lungs .

♡      𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙳 ———      homemade bread , white lies ,  easily excited , trying on hats ,  band geek , pep talks , no impulse control ,  sunsets ,  vintage fashion ,  long showers ,  selfies , following dreams , rosy cheeks ,  song mash-ups ,  pink lemonade with tequila , loves easily ,  animated storyteller , full of comebacks .

♡      𝙲𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲 ———       list of wishes ,  biting their tongue ,  band-aids and neosporin , shoulder to cry on ,  morning sun ,  necklaces , trial and error , homemade quilts ,  formal clothing , astrology fan ,  messages in bottles , pleated braids , speaking up for friends ,  feathers , motivational quotes , vivid dreams .

♡      𝙳𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙳 ———       bird watching ,  shy kid , wind chimes , good at whistling ,  summer camp ,  apple orchards , lost in their head ,  glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling , hoodies , thrift shopping ,  saving worms off the sidewalk , pig latin , bare feet , thunderstorms , numb fingers , braided hair ,  naming potted plants .

♡      𝙵𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁 ———       goose bumps , leather jackets , adventure , chewing nails , cares deeply but can’t show it ,  bronze locks , no sleep , taste of iron , netflix binges , never forgets , combat boots , stories behind scars , table for one , official soundtracks ,  sore calves , trusts themselves the most .

♡      𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙺 ———       always trying to be better ,  wanderlust ,  meditation , sweat pants, old photographs ,  yoga ,  sleeping in hammocks ,  nostalgia ,  minimalist design , breath of fresh air ,  baby animals , volunteering , perfectionist ,  doesn’t care about fashion , healthy snacks , noticing the little things .

♡      𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽 ———       school uniforms , thick jackets , sleeping with the windows open , logical advice ,  scrapbooking ,  compasses , i fight for my friends ,  sculpture gardens , cold morning air ,  big soul , likes routine , secret romantic ,  last to get jokes ,  sunflowers , practical presents , misty weather .

♡      𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 ———       herbal tea , smell of rain , blinking away tears , camping trips , collecting bones ,  swiss army knives , first impressions , anxious thoughts ,  bobby pins , burnt marshmallows , too competitive ,  clothes lines , messenger bags , holding grudges , gets along better with animals than people .

♡      𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴 ———       flirtatious sarcasm ,  candid photos ,  lost phone chargers , adrenaline rush , picking dirt out from beneath their nails ,  social chameleon ,  clashing clothes , self-deprecating jokes , claw machines ,  sits in chairs wrong , smudged eyeliner , has too many sunglasses , eats nothing or everything .

♡      𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚁 ———       infectious laugh , family trees , shivers down their spine , lipstick and roses , mood swings , clumsy ,  believing in destiny , high expectations , sleeping in darkness ,  collection of nail polish , passionate , good grades but never studies , poetry books ,  blowing kisses ,  not knowing their own strength .

♡      𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 ———       knowing everyone’s secrets ,  backpack covered in pins , envy ,  being in walmart late at night , earl grey ,  selective memory ,  conspiracy theories and cryptids ,  keysmashing , need to know basis , can’t cook , bags under eyes ,  experimental art , flickering bulbs , black clothing all year long .

♡      𝚆𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚁𝙳 ———       piles of textbooks ,  cat in lap , keeping a diary ,  indecisions , scented candles ,  studying alone in a café , lingering touches , museum dates , unanswered questions , taking on too much responsibility ,  collections ,  chalk dust , comfy robes , unnecessary apologies ,  coming home after a long day .

Just a few photos from last years journey back home to the Midwest.

Suddenly, Emily resurfaced from the blue, gasping air, coughing up water from her lungs. The entirety of her body stung from smashing into the waterline from a towering altitude. Her clothes became waterlogged with freezing waters as she kept her afloat. Ultimately, forcing her to take an immediate course of action.

Desperately swimming to the edge of the lake, Emily began to haul herself onto the shore - winded, disoriented, barely staying conscious. The sun's natural warmth blanketed her, a welcoming feeling, as her body shivered to generate heat. The environment around Emily spun while the world began to darken and her senses began to deaden. With her energy depleted to its limit, she collapsed into the muddy bank. 

The galloping of hooves shook the ground before gradually succumbing to a halt; Emily stirred before regaining some semblance consciousness. Shadows stretched across the mud obstructed out the sun, reassuring her that it was not a figment of her own imagination.

He was deep in thought again; she could tell by the way he gazed at the world through their window. Bessie knew the main reason despite the numerous claims and no matter how many times he stated that life was behind him - it wasn’t. She knew it and no amount of tall tales could persuade her from thinking so.

The outlaw life did have its benefits as well as its losses. Limitless independence from civilization, however, the price of those liberties often resulted in violence. The van der Linde gang was unmistakably a family as every person cared for one another. They would kill each other, and in cases, they have. However, for Bessie, the outlaw chapter of her life was at its end. She never regretted her involvement and treasured her memories, but it was time to move on.

The dew from the late-night shower glistened as the sunlight beat down on the wildflowers. The birds and insects sang their own song with the cry of an elk contributing to the tune. Giving a small nip on his shoulder, Bessie sat down next to Hosea with an affectionate smile. She said nothing as her silence could express more than words could. Ultimately granting Hosea an opportunity to say something whether it was a rebuttal or confession, but the silence carried on. She sincerely joked, glancing over at him, “𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.”

—————

At first, it didn't hurt but after the rush of adrenaline and hysteria, those bullet wounds sent an excruciating sensation throughout the right side of her body. After getting herself to safety, away from her father, Emily took cover behind a rotting tree that had fallen over. She pressed herself tightly against the decaying wood as she listened for footsteps. So far - nothing. Only the natural serenity of the forest could be heard.

Everything ached, everything burned. Her lungs pleaded for air through deep breaths while a continuous dull soreness gnawed away at her body. Blood began to saturate her shirt, turning it into a dark red where her injuries were. As much as her body yearned for another minute of rest, Emily heaved herself to her feet. If she did not move now and without proper medical attention, she would be dead before sunrise.

The once bustling town of Sweetwater was now reduced to a desolate ghost town. The combination of constant chatter and music was now left to halting stillness. The dead piled the streets accompanied by blood-stained and broken windows were just a few features. 

She tethered her horse to the post before entering the abandoned store. With a gun in her hand, she thoroughly investigated the dwelling for occupiers - none. She holstered her firearm before hastily rummaging through the building, finding what she needed. With a shaky hand, Emily grabbed her wrist and slowly inhaled before a regulated exhale. However, a creak in the floorboards caught her attention and drew her gun immediately from her holster. She pointed it at the entrance of the room, pulling back the hammer, “𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭.”

__________

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 !                                                hit the ‘♡’ to interact with one of my muses!  

three / ( zodiac sign ): cancer

four / ( height ): 5 feet 3 inches

five / ( hobbies ): hiking, biking, anything that involves nature; reading and writing; lastly, field hockey (although sometimes that debatable)

six / ( favorite color ): grey-blue

seven / ( favorite books ): definitely fahrenheit 451 by ray bradbury. despite it being assigned for summer reading it was one i really enjoyed. in term of non-school related... room by emma donoghue.

eight / ( last song listened to ): second child, restless child by the oh hellos

nine / ( last film or show watched ): black mirror - uss callister.  

ten / ( story behind url ): well, long story short, i’ve been to the appalachians so many times. whether it be due to driving through or visiting, it’s always a pretty place to go to, even it’s just for a moment. if you ever make your way to the east coast definitely check out the appalachian trail; it spans across several states.

eleven / ( inspiration for muse ): i’ll try to keep this short. i always had the drawn attention to emily since i started watching the show... even if she had small amount of screen time. i was hoping that they would have delved more into the dynamics of family and just some interactions between william and emily, william and juliet, lastly, juliet and emily - honestly, just any of them. also, just the possibilities with other characters too! it was clear that emily was going to follow the family business, so the interactions are nearly endless especially due to her involvement. also can’t forget about the aus!