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@vileirs
jav.ier is the hottest member of the gang and that is undisputed

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how many times have i changed my url/my canon you ask ?
* twicewest .
ah. she straightens her spine and folds both arms across her chest, “ Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. ” her lips split into a lopsided grin, and one hand moves to gently tap her right temple. “ Me memory’s a bit hazy, y’see. Too many fights, too many lucky shots. But you wouldn’t ‘ave come all the way out here to find me unless you knew somethin’ worthwhile… so I have to ask, what’re you offerin’? ”
erich folded his wrists over the grip of his black saddle, rubbing the tips of his angular fingers together. ‘ i used to operate on behalf of mister angelo bronte. now, i’m sure that such a name means little to nothing to you, but it carries quite the significance around this area. ’ viliers flexed his anaemic fingers, balling his fingerless-gloved hands up around his reins. ‘ van der linde is mister bronte’s murderer. i seek to enact my own justice. now, i know a person like you would sooner sell their conscience than use it, so i shall make you an offer: your life, for dutch van der linde’s. ’
* twicewest .
“ What’s a bloke like you doin’ out here? You take the wrong turn headed to Blackwater or somethin’? ” she’s certain enough that the man is no pinkerton, and certainly no bounty hunter, but she knows he didn’t find her by accident.
lechner sucked on the butt of his cigarette, its end glowing, before releasing the smoke up and into the soft wind. ‘ blackwater ? ’ he huffed, lilting his lazy vowels. ‘ i would sooner find myself drowning in pig shit in the bayou. ’ he took another drag, before flicking the end off into the dirt, his black stallion stamping the butt with its hoof, as if it had been taught to. ‘ i am looking for one mister dutch van der linde. have you heard of him ? ’
* derlinde .
he had to squint , and it isn’t the sunlight reflecting off the sprinkling of snow that’s the reason . HE BARELY RECOGNISES THE MAN BEFORE HIM . it’s careful thought that brings back his memories of that ghastly garden party at bronte’s manor . the italian buffoon’s work horse .
❝ you could say i had some prior arrangements . ❞
he rested his chin into his woollen scarf, bringing a cigarette to his flush lips. ‘ a riveting tale. ’ the glimmering white ground crunched beneath his boots, and the laden black belt around his waist clattered with iron and gunmetal. ‘ do you want to know something funny, herr van der linde ? ’ his cold voice, formed of throaty vowels and sibilant consonants, became a modicum more human. ‘ your... buchhalter, what is it ?... your money man. strauss. he worked for my father’s company, back in vienna. he was our buchhalter. when bronte told me about him, i was so surprised... strauss ?... that little maus ?... ’ erich flicked the cigarette from between his fingers, its ash spitting up into the biting air. ‘ but then i realised... it’s this place. is it not ? it turns us into animals. does it not ? the new frontier. ein funkelnder haufen scheiße. it takes us all... eventually. ’

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a plume of hot steam bloomed from between erich’s lips as he pursed them. ‘ you left saint denis in quite the state, herr van der linde. left quite the vacuum. ’ he set his bony fingers upon his bullet-ridden belt. ‘ did you, perhaps, have somewhere to be ? ’
@derlinde .
erich lechner, son of austrian oil magnate johann lechner, was born in vienna, 1874. erich emigrated at the age of 14, stowing away aboard a trading vessel on course for the united states in 1888. it was in the sprawling city of saint denis that young erich would see the inception of his new identity, independent of the influence of his domineering family name, in a life of debauchery and criminality.
erich came under the wing of angelo bronte, an italian businessman and a key figure in the running of saint denis’ criminal underworld. bronte taught erich much of what he knew, even schooling the boy in english, italian and history. over the years, erich became more than simply bronte’s student and protégé, and began functioning as an overseer his mentor’s operations, under the pejorative aliases of ‘ kröte ’ and ‘ ratte ’ . once erich began directing bronte’s more illicit operations, he began operating under the alias of viliers, and made efforts to wipe all evidence of his family name from existence. his closer associates knew him as erich, whereas other lesser-known associates would know him as mister viliers, or simply, viliers.
erich moved up the saint denis streetside with deceptive leisure, lifting a hand from his belt to let the saloon doors swing. he was greeted with unsure, trepidatious glances, but only in moments: the patrons knew his face, and that the name bronte came with it. the man that ate looked back to his food, the men that played poker returned to their game; even the bartender had found some small errand to run. all took notice, but spared no more than a glance, save for arthur morgan, who had spared nothing at all.
‘ that is a mighty cough, herr morgan, ’ the kraut simpered. ‘ be careful not to spread your foulness to these poor patrons, won’t you ? ’
@vauntir .
- ERICH LECHNER’S ACCOUNT OF MAYOR LEMIEUX’S GARDEN PARTY .
the evening was simple enough. i attended the event, mingled, kept a watchful eye over angelo’s entourage and his newest subjects of venture. van der linde and his accompanying band of layabouts. igitt, the fools were as gauche as bronte had described them. thereabouts, at least. i suspect that van der linde conspires, in one way or another. the other one, also: his schoßhund, morgan, i believe was his name. but perhaps that is simply the doing of my most jaded side. or perhaps i am confusing honesty with cynicism. this country will do that to you. i am to keep tabs on the group for a while. angelo does not trust them, and frankly, neither do i.