#kingfishcr

Wants to apologize to all the folks that gave up on me because I dropped off the map.

Wants to reconnect.

Wants to start new things.

Wants to make time to be here again.

But also really only in the mood for cowboy things.

🤷🏽‍♀️

“Sir? Sir, can you hear me???”

The sound of a voice in the haze of the blistering heat, the owner of which now casting a shadow over the unconscious man.

“My God, what happened here...?” Ezekiel murmured, noting the blood on the man’s shoulder and the mess that surrounded them. Some sort of shoot out, a robbery, something of the like. One could only imagine the Reverend’s horror when, passing through on his wagon, he had noticed what looked like a lone dead body in amongst the remnants of chaos left behind in the desert clearing. It had been a mixture of both fear and relief to find him still breathing. Thank the Lord he was alive! Of course, Ezekiel now felt the heavily impending duty upon his shoulders to keep it that way. 

No time to waste. Had to get this poor man out of the heat...

He lifted the taller stranger with surprising ease and hurried him to shelter in back of his wagon, where he laid him down and rushed to pour a cup of water. He then placed a hand on the other man’s good shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze in an effort to rouse him.

With a sigh, the redhead downed the drink he offered, immediately returning it to him, waiting for the next shot. At this rate, they both were going to be drunk before the sun settled on the horizon.  “He just doesn’t like me. Is not such a big deal” A pause. “Wait, have you ever had a limp dick?”

He’d tried to get his daughter to stay with his mother while he went to conduct ‘business’, but the four-year-old made the rules. And while it was against Finn’s better judgement, Clara had made it known she didn’t give a shit what her father thought. She was a Kelly, through and through. Bless the man who thought he could handle her.

Though, Finn thought that maybe having his daughter with him would be a bit less suspicious. Especially since he had a target on his back because people assumed he was a part of the IRA. So being seen with Clara in public wasn’t all that suspicious. Just a father and daughter going about their business.

This business, however, was not something he was sold on yet. Smuggling drugs. That could go sideways very quick. Look at how the United States was handling prohibition. And people there were looking for the next better thing. Cocaine. And alcohol seemed to be running rather dry here as businesses smuggled alcohol to America to make triple profit for the coveted liquids. 

Grabbing his daughter’s hand when he pulled the door open of the pub. The man behind the counter motioning him along to the room he was to meet with this mystery woman. Holding tight to Clara, making her shoot him a small glare and flex her hand to escape her father’s grip as she stepped into the room and looked the woman over. 

He’d been watching the young lad for the better half of the last few days. Fighting to grapple with the idea of what had happened much too soon. If death had a heart to feel anything, he may have felt pity. War was an ugly affair -- and so it had been for the god of death as well. In constant battle with the Keres, the goddesses of violent death, over who would be taking who when they fell on the battlefield. In the Norse culture, the Keres were viewed as honorable -- Valkyrie, they were called. Though, in his opinion they were no more than cheating, blood thirsty whores.

He nudged his horse toward the young man, who had not yet accepted what had happened to his mortal self. Pulling the beast to a halt and dismounting slowly and silently.

“Revelation chapter six. Verse eight. I looked, and behold, an ashen horse and he who sat on it had the name death and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beats of earth.” He said when he’d reached even ground with James.

“I believe that is how you would know me. You are Christian, yes?” Though he gave the young soldier no time to respond, taking his helmet off and setting his rifle across his horse’s saddle. He often disguised himself with the surroundings, and it was easy to blend in with the crowd around as a simple, dirty, exhausted, British soldier. “That hardly matters, and shows that the word is wrong sometimes. Because man, and god is fallible. As you can see, my horse is not ashen or pale, but black. And I like to call him Dandy. Hades is not here, only me. And Death isn’t my favorite name to go by. A long time ago I picked up Finn. It means fair in some cultures. I like that. Or there are some who call me Thanatos. The choice is yours.”

@hrodohaide​ said: “Well, /you/ weren’t who I was expecting.”

Instinct said ‘quick, dumbass, say something witty’, though words had caught in his throat when he glanced her over. He wasn’t sure what he should say and he knew that every passing second was just making this awkward. And it was already awkward. Now he was starting to second guess the whole situation. When he was told the details, the details seemed to be very lost on the fact that this Lia looked hardly old enough, or perhaps it was Bold enough to be doing what was described.

He’d been offered a job by her... Uncles? Cousins? Hell, whatever they called themselves when referring to their relationship to her. All he knew was it was kind of an awkward conversation and had left him with a lot more questions than he’d intended on having at all. It was supposed to be easy. A quick, in and out assassination, assisted by Lia.