#ofsoul

she's  a  healer  ,      and  as  he  normally  assumes  from  experience  ,      healers  need  a  variety  of  herbs  for  their  medicines  .      he  plucks  them  in  his  own  free  time  ,      whenever  he  can  ,      for  his  own  brews  .      cures  he  and  his  gang  have  concocted  to  deal  with  the  aches  that  come  with  their  travelling  and  outdoor  weathering  ,      pastes  to  ward  away  infection  from  scrapes  and  bites  and  bullet  wounds  ,      and  restorative  remedies  to  feed  their  horses  .      all  the  complicated  treatments  ,      though  ,      they  leave  to  the  professionals  .      those  ,      at  least  ,      that  take  them  .      arthur's  lost  count  of  how  many  times  in  the  past  two  decades  he's  approached  a  doctor's  clinic  ,      only  to  be  turned  away  thanks  to  the  guns  he  wears  at  his  waist  ,      or  the  particularly  unnerving  glint  in  his  eye  .      he  doesn't  blame  anyone  for  that  .

so  that  was  what  he'd  done  :      gathered  for  her  a  good  bunch  of  herbs  and  compiled  the  amount  he  knew  he'd  have  to  pay  a  physician  to  receive  such  treatment      (  twice  :      the  first  to  save  his  life  ,      and  the  second  in  a  quick  burst  of  kindness  from  the  woman ).      being  in  debt  is  not  a  sensation  arthur  likes  to  feel  .      he  hardly  likes  it  the  other  way  around  ,      either  ,      but  at  least  then  he  doesn't  feel  some  sort  of  onus  to  save  what  he  has  in  order  to  pay  it  back  .

❝        travelled  down  by  cumberland  forest  for  that  ginseng  ,      yeah  ,        ❞        he  answers  ,      with  a  certain  ,      faint  relief  that  stems  from  the  realisation  that  he  has  ,      in  fact  ,      found  something  she  will  accept  .      that  she's  tended  to  him  twice  without  asking  for  anything  in  return  had  planted  the  seed  of  doubt  in  his  mind  that  she  would  accept  the  money  .      that  ,      you  can  find  anywhere  .      steal  from  anyone  .      but  herbs  ?  those  ,      you  have  to  go  searching  ,      identifying  ,      and  plucking  ,      not  to  mention  making  sure  they  don't  die  off  and  go  bad  before  they're  cooked  and  used  .        ❝        and  it  took  a  long  time  to  find  'em  ,      too  .      so  i'd  like  if  you'd  take  it  , miss ...        ❞ it's about now that he realises he doesn't know her name . ❝ miss you got a name ? ❞

@ofsoul . / continued .

THOSE WHO BUILT TRISTAN BRICK BY BRICK HAD NEVER INTENDED FOR HIM TO BE REASONABLE. within his suit of skin, inside the child he had once been, they had instead carved a creature of instinct, with thoughts engineered so quickly that he loses not a moment of valuable reaction time to them. they had cast no mind to the value of the art of restraint, focused instead only on creating a living weapon from the body of one too young to remember any other past. the horror he has become is that of their own making, a blight upon the galaxy released by those arrogant enough to assume they could keep him caged. as far as he knows, he is the only one of his kind remaining, an unholy concoction both biological and mechanical, something that should never have existed. some distant human part of him realizes @ofsoul could not have known. the rest of him simply does not care.

he crouches as far away from her as he can against the wall of his own ship like some feral creature, lip curled to reveal unnervingly sharpened canines, eyes wide and wild with something bordering both fear and fury. he has never felt himself mortal enough to experience fear. yet instinctively tristan understands the chill coursing through his veins, what it means, which only enflames the undefinable anger that blooms in him like hungry flame. what was that, the sensation, the searing in his head, the voice? he would move to strike, he knows, if he could determine what exactly it was he was dealing with. something has convinced him that she was in his head, a prospect that practically paralyzes him, leaves him with a lingering inability to act, as though he cannot properly access his own body in response. always has he seemed even to himself more machine than man, but somehow, that trace of humanity has seized him, made him ineffectual.

YOU CAN'T BLAME A GIRL FOR BEING AN OPPORTUNIST, : AH, THE ADVANTAGES OF HAVING FRIENDS CONNECTIONS! ( stole your own tongue, cat? fearing to admit genuine closeness? ) 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋, she can not remember a day her claws hadn't clung to it as if ALL HER NINE LIVES WERE AT STAKE! ... yet, despite it all : here she finds herself again. as rare as these moments are, the way she can say with her chest help will come when she pleas, &. this time without tricks of cunning mind nor bending the odds. ... within the luxorious penthouse, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 kept the company of her own kind : four cats, her own more or less, yet just like their safekeeper, THEY WERE ABLE TO GO WHERE THEY PLEASED!

@ofsoul “ i found the issue, ” lovingly carding felicia’s younger kitten in her arms,    rubbing its little head into a soft rhythmic purr.    “ her favorite toy fell behind the fridge. ” generally raven is not one to give explanations,    but honoring the title of motherhood the feline thief holds,    she supposes transparency is worth more than keeping her air of ominous mystery.    “ you would be surprised,    all intelligent animals leave soul - stains over the things they love,    humans and cats alike. ”

"and i value your judgement," ahsoka replies smoothly, arms crossed over her chest as her cloaks hug and bury her. she hides beneath this fabric, the tips of her montrals, concealed, as she stands beside her friend now — a shadow of an entity alongside raven's wise presence. "if you believe they'll benefit our cause, i trust you."

trust. what a treacherous word. it's been far too long since ahsoka allowed herself the intimacy of a trusting relationship; raven is fortunate to earn a place within her mind, a safe harbor, a shelter in the storm. the force is strong in both women, which offers ahsoka some vague sense of calm. both cloaked figures loom above the practice grounds, studying a narrow landscape of rebellious trainees and other assets to their cause (many are raven's recruits, people who flocked to her, hopeful that they may defeat the empire and find peace in its place). that's why ahsoka trusts her. that's partially why she's here.

even beings so powerful as the gods dream.  even hades, down below in the halls of the underworld, shrouded in the lonely gloom of his empty quarters. he had not meant to fall to slumber — he seldom does so — but he had felt depleted, an ancient ache spearing his shoulder with a dull but persistent intensity, sapping his energy and souring his already grim mood.

his dreams usually come in brief flashes, gone in an instant and brushed aside as soon as his eyes snap open.  but this time, it seems, is rather different;  a fearsome ripple traverses all the land like the rumble of an earthquake, causing disquiet in its residents and rousing them from their tasks while their lord sleeps on, unaware.

The revolver on his hand feels heavy. The hat and jacket he's wearing feel even moreso. He'd begun having second thoughts the second after he shot Ross, had he really done the right thing? He told himself that he'd deserved that kind of ending, that he had it coming for what he did to his family. And yet, Jack can't help but feel empty. It'd been said many times, mostly by people close to Jack and the Marston family, that revenge often felt like that. He remembers Dutch saying that 'Revenge was a fool's game'... Is he a fool now? Dooming himself?

@ofsoul ❝ much has been promised to you, has it not? but what has been taken from you? ❞

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Her words strike true and strike close to home. So much had been promised to him. A better life, away from all the gunslinging and running away but it all got taken away with such ease. He'd lost all his family as well... Uncle Arthur, Uncle Hosea, Dutch, his parents. All gone. Only he remained. The last remnant of the Van Der Linde Gang and the Marstons.

LIGHT RADIATES IN THE PRESENCE OF ENCHANTING DARKNESS, : YET DESPITE THE CONTRAST, ... the mixture is not lethal. 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐔𝐑 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌, welcoming as the first rays of sun at dawn : it speaks without words, ' you're safe. ' ... for she recognizes the look, that troubled glimmer raven holds. ( OH, HOW WELL SHE MASKS IT ... BUT IT TAKES ONE TO RECOGNIZE THE OTHER. ) she needs not the power of the echo, simply her emphatic soul is enough. ... ❝ what is troubling you? ❞ SHE DOES NOT SHY AWAY FROM THE FACT THAT SHE KNOWS, yet there is always room to deny her of answers. 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒. should it be her presence alone that can console her, then that is what the hero will provide.

[ patience ]  your muse telling mine to be patient .

raven  may  as  well  have  insulted  eliza,  kicked  her  while  she  was  down  &  insulted  her  very  core  -  at  least,  that's  how  eliza  reacts  when  told  to  be  patient.

at  first,  the  look  that  raven  receives  is  nothing  short  of  incredulous;  absolutely  (and  in  equal  measure)  devastated  and  so  largely  confused  on  how  the  other  woman  could  suggest  such  a  thing.  eliza  stands  before  her,  bloodied  &  bruised  from  an  altercation  that  she  dares  not  admit  the  details  or  origin  of:  she  knows  well  enough  that  there  would  be  a  scolding  to  follow.  instead,  eliza's  tongue  darts  over  her  cut  lip  in  an  attempt  to  soothe  the  stinging  that  circulates  there.

"why  wait?  i  wanna  fight  back  -  you  can't  stop  me  from  doin'  that.  i  can't  just  -  ...  let  them  win."  eliza's  eyes  turn  wild  when  focused  on  raven,  hands  gesturing  between  herself  and  the  invisible  amalgamation  of  all  her  problems  turned  against  her.  she  swallows  once,  refocusing  herself  as  she  loosely  holds  onto  her  injured  arm  with  her  other  hand,  "look,  i  ...  i  appreciate  you.  i  thank  you,  but  ...  i  don't  need  your  help."  (i  don't  deserve  it.)