#widowbountied

«Uh..» he looked her in the eye, about to say something. However, he suddenly hesitated. It was early, she was tired and he didn’t know if dhe would take it well. He had meant it well, but sometimes..well meant things turned out bad. Especially with these enotional sort of things. Maybe she would get upset. Maybe she would get mad at him for causing it here..infront of everyone.

dark matter starters – no longer accepting

@widowbountied

    The last thing he wants is to FIGHTwith her, more ARGUING—there had been more thanenough of that lately. Arthur watching on as the wool was beingpulled from his eyes, blind loyalty and devotionleading to screaming in camp and watching as a man he'd down damnover 20 years fall apart at the seams. With Arthur's ownfailing health and his body falling apart just as bad and quickly,the last thing he needed was to lose himself in the recklessness andchaos, but it seemed like Sadie had gotten her eye on something andhe knew by now that she was hellbent on whatever it was. Talking heroff it felt impossible, but he'd damn well TRY.

    At her hiss, he let out a frustratedhuff of his own, looking around himself.

Manhandling symbol starters (x)

The wind left Kelly in a none too dignified huff as he hit the floor, a surprisingly heavy weight following him down and keeping the air punched out of him as he felt the rough knotting of rope around him. Later he’d claim he was felled quite so easily only because he was caught off guard, but perhaps he was giving himself a little too much credit. 

“The hell–” he yelled, still not quite enough breath to have exactly the desired effect, but it conveyed his outrage well enough. He twisted, sinking an elbow into the meat of the belly above. “The hell you think you’re doin’?”

          — ❛ Uh. Sure!❜

@widowbountied // injured / healers.

“I’ll be honest, John,” she sounds tired. And she is. It’s not like Beecher’s Hope isn’t a lovely homestead. It is. It’s being cooped up there, agony creeping up into her side from the festering knife wound. “I try real hard not t'think about most of it. I’d lose my mind.”

Sadie winces, shifting to sit up. “Besides, some things are heavy enough all their own.”

   ❛ hey, easy there, ❜ ( sadie’s independent, hardier than most, with twice as much drive as the devil — john understands that, respects it. he tries to avoid overstepping her convalescence, but he does stray in moments like these, rising from his bedside seat to adjust the pillows against the headboard, lest her back strains. ) ❛ you don’t want that wound to open up. plenty nasty business gettin’ it closed the first time. ❜

     for a second, john’s not sure if he’s only talking about the gash in her side. sadie’s right, of course: some things are heavy enough all their own, and he should know better than to flirt with memory’s long drop with that much weight on his shoulders and too little rope. 

“Hm..?” Arthur had spent the better part of however long it had been he’d been back in camp mainly asleep, but he was at least currently awake and aware enough to catch somebody talking though not exactly what they had said. He was also now all too aware of just how awful he felt. He carefully opened his eyes, relieved to see it was at least dark out, unsure his head could’ve taken the sudden brightness midday.

“Oh m’ fine....” He said, and lit a smoke as if that was gonna make it all better.