#mole.

- not actually blind

- shovel hands

And I’m out here tonight, so if you want to start a fight, We’ll get loaded on the things that I can’t change

STATS.

NAME: Carver Brunswick GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis man & he/him AGE: 33 OCCUPATION: ranch worker at the Oxbow AFFILIATIONS: Byrne FACECLAIMS: Austin Butler

ABOUT.

Carver was just a piddling little juvenile, barely off the ground, lanky legs still learning to walk when he caught wind of the haphazard mess of faith and evil. It’s an eloquent meshing and Carver would come to wonder if the lesson had been preternaturally decided, delivered especially for him, miserably catered to the trembling teeth and shaking fists that fabricated every stitch of who he would become. The family Carver was surrounded by, born into as the youngest, is hardly even a splotch on the map, insignificant in wealth and status, but mighty in number — he had six siblings, after all and the devil, dressed up as a mere man, would do anything to tear his family apart it would seem.

Cook County, Minnesota is the antithesis of Carver’s bustling family; a scarcely populated town teeming with mine shafts that allow his father to pay the bills. Their business within the coal mines spanned back generations and it’d be inevitable for Carver to pick it up, if he’d had any interest. He grew up in the mines, bearing witness to exhausting days for his father and elder brothers, a mere child struck with delight at the copper, coal, and iron they had to painstakingly collect. Vital minerals in the mine shafts inevitably became sparse, the trade unsustainable, and desperation marred by tension is produced by the conflict. Carver is forced to witness fragments of arguments and a span of days where they return regretfully empty handed. Bills pile high and the food to feed such a boisterous cluster of budding boys grew woefully scarce as time tallied on; back when he was just a youngin, he didn’t quite understand the hushed arguments fragmented by fearful worry, he didn’t know the target on his father’s back.

His father, in desperation, resorted to long abandoned mine shafts, closed off and unregulated due to the passing of time. Carver is explicitly forbidden to follow him down into the unsecured labyrinth, but he was just a defiant child, the youngest Brunswick, and it’s innate for him to disobey and do the opposite of what he’s been cautioned on. Carver scoured the unexplored portion of the mines for his own prize to be regaled by, only for a rockslide to almost take him out of life early. His father saved him, just in the knick of time, but his father was never the same again.

Carver then learned the lingering effects of the shadows, how a debt unpaid transfers from one life to the next. They didn’t know this man’s name when he first came knocking, but Carver and his brothers dubbed him the cowboy. A trivial and juvenile name but a shadowed face obscured by a cowboy hat and echoed with spurs hitting the oak floors that would change the trajectory of where his life was once headed. Pay up the debts of his father, a massive price, or life would become even more difficult for a large family who barely scraped by as is. The scales tipped quickly, if money from the eldest Brunswick boys could not be scrounged together to cover the costs, then Carver learned to be quickfooted and swift pickpocket. 

Pickpocketing was juvenile work and crimes snowballed in severity, the house fell into irreparable disarray, overdue bills piling high as much of their change drifted to the pockets of another. The Sheriff’s department became a continued nuisance in Carver’s juvenescence, boasting inevitable eviction and his father was sent to a long-term care facility for none could be around to care for the addled man any longer. It no longer sounded like a prayer, in fact, it’s quite the opposite and Wade prayed with more ferocity than ever before to combat whatever darkened matter had suddenly tainted his father’s soul. The two jobs he’d picked up wouldn’t make a world of difference to the debt attached to his last name, and though some of his elder brothers abandoned the debts of their father, ran to greener pastures, Carver just couldn’t help what the grief had turned him into. There’s a twisted sense of accountability when he ties himself to the Cowboy, learns his real name and authority and begins peddling product beneath him. No longer is it his father’s debt, it’s his own and he’s signed onto it willingly. 

Intense regret pocketed his mind as time rallied on; cruel memories of homely family dinners, intricate explorations in the mine shafts, and nostalgic images of his father’s smile plagued the elder teen. Carver began this pursuit for he knew no amount of prayer was to fix the fragments his life had become. The puppet strings this monster had on Carver’s family are deeper embedded than formerly understood, but denial had always been a dear friend. Carver is considered a man on paper now, though still miserably too young to legally purchase liquor. He’d always been a scrawny kid, but had developed now into all muscle and sinew, hoping physical strengths and his own street smarts would inevitably, hopefully, be the ticket out of this crafted hell. Abandoning his faith in God proved the final severance to his miserably stagnant stance as a by-passer to his own life, it seemed his siblings, his mother, all had tried to run from the debts of their name and now it was Carver’s turn to try.

He disappeared for a while, it was a necessity after what had happened, after what names would come searching for him, but Carver had odd jobs and music to keep him afloat. Tasks he could easily adhere to, manual labor, but also more unsavory occupations that none else would feel so morally bankrupt to take. There are many days where the oppressiveness of the debt he’d consigned himself to many years ago feels too smothering to escape from and old habits continue to die hard, but Carver is used to the ruggedness of this world and has no qualms being the only one left, bloodied and standing, if that is what it takes. 

Barulho alto e pedal da embreagem mole.

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