#seethewest

[C L O S E D S T A R T E R]@seethewest [F O R Camila]

The Two-spirited Lakota, known as Kali Dances with Fire, had to start somewhere for her mission of finding the missing indigenous, & the assholes that made them go missing, or worse murder them. Then leaving their bodies in some disrespectful place, dehumanizing them further. Further than the way, that the world that the colonizers had crafted, already saw Native Americans, as lesser, less civilized or even still primitive. Some non-native think that the people of the First Nations still live in teepees, or that ALL Native American tribes live in teepee, which is NOT the case, or that the tribes all have one language & culture. Kali's haŋbléčeyapi, the Lakota word for what some would say is her 'calling' , was to to find bring justice for the First Nations of Turtle Island & to bring home those who have been lost by the evil that came from those that were not from the reservations. Kali didn't hate white people, she didn't trust them though, not after hearing the stories of what happened to her grandparents, the parents of her mother & her uncle Mo Bring's Plenty. Speaking of Kali's uncle Mo, he was the reason that Kali was in Montana, living on the Apsáalooke-Crow reservation known as Broken Rock. Kali was training under her uncle Mo, having been following in his footsteps her whole life. Joining the Army Rangers as sharpshooter, tracker, & recon expert then going on to get her private investigator license, now Kali Dances with Fire was here following her uncle Mo around learning his job as bodyguard of the Chairman of Broken Rock Chief Thomas Rainwater. When Kali was not following Mo around, learning his trade & anything else the elder warrior wanted to teach his niece, she would search the towns of the reservation & the nearby towns off the rez, for clues to finding the missing people of Broken Rock. This such search brought Kali to a bar in Paradise Valley. Kali walked into this older dingy, cowboy dive bar looking around, taking in all the little knickknacks that lined the walls, the old jukebox in the corner with a pin board with flyers. Bingo! That's where Kali headed, looking for any missing person's posters, or anything that may seem hinky like bait. The bait angle was unlikely but it did happen, usually though people were just picked up while broken down on the side of the road, or hiking from their place into town.

❝ would it be too bold of me to say i don't think i've ever seen such a beautiful sight? and in a city full of attractions, no less. ❞ he's been trying and failing not to stare, but the blonde caught his eye as soon as he walked in, and he's been completely dumbstruck since. when she appears at his hightop with a welcoming grin, jack decides to make his move.

@seethewest & PROMPTS FROM ELF !!

another warm, summer day, bitter heat bearing down on exposed skin; only a lonesome cloud to block the sun & offer a momentary reprieve from its scorch. the montrose o'dwyer's ranch— belonging to someone nice enough to give jesse a wayward job— was becoming as familiar to him as the now covered area of his palm, his tanning skin hidden under a sludge of motor oil sticky against the back of his hand. he offers the ranch owner's niece a glance, face reddened by the heat, her blue eyes watching him, & the interest in her polite question.

@seethewest & nonverbal prompts.

it's a little too late to be searching for a place to get a decent drink, but touring has jesse keeping odd hours most days, & jetlag is a bitch pain. the closest place open this time of night clear within his sight, followed by the heavy fall of his aged boots on sunbaked concrete. jesse waves to the car that lets him pass, pulling his hat further down to hide a face he feels conceited to call recognisable, though at the same time he knows has been plastered on a billboard not too far from here.

( —‘‘it's not conceited to be proud, jensen,’’ his mother would say. that, or something about having a chip on his famous shoulder. times he'd promise her he'd try making less of an effort not to be recognised, & more of one to appreciate the people who enjoy a sound over ten years in the making and converse with the others who revere recent lyrics chronologically detailing too much of his life.)

one hand resting in a pocket, & the other lingering on the soft fabric of his old stetson before he lets it drop to his side. seeing the woman metres from him offering him entrance to the bar, he quickens a pace made easier by the long length of his legs & reaches to grab the door held open to him, offering the woman a smile that's as genuine as it is tired. there's no hint of recognition in the depths of her eyes, and despite fleeting unbroken promises jesse made to his mother, he can't shake the sense of relief that loosens the wound state of his shoulders.