[align=center][div style="padding-right:13px;"][gfont=Uchen][glow=black,2,300]JUDE "CASS" CASWELL[/glow][/gfont] [gfont=Ramaraja]"speech." — thought. — attack. — normal.[/gfont]
[gfont=Ramaraja] Cass gently nudged his son's head back through the door of the building with a roughened knuckle, making sure to stand in front of the door so that the whip-thin little boy couldn't slip past any gaps between him and the door. The kid had woken up earlier than expected, having seen his father getting ready for the day and wanting to tag along.
"Just for five minutes!" Ronan pleaded, still trying to get past his body. "I promise I won't be bad! I wanna go out and see what you do."
"You don't go hunting for just five minutes, Ro," Cass lightly pushed Ronan's chest back with the palm of his hand, though a tiny little smile peeked through his mask of disapproval. "If that were the case, I would be home very quickly, anyway."
"But you won't be, and that's why I wanna go with you," Ronan continued, though he lowered his voice in case he was accidentally waking up others. "It's so boring being stuck inside all the time. I wanna find animals with you."
"When you get bigger, shiye'," Cass carefully reached forward to brush some of Ronan's curls out of his eyes, then patted his shoulder. "And when you start putting your hair up properly. Didn't your auntie teach you? It's going to be caught in the branches, otherwise. Go back to bed and sleep a little longer, okay?"
Ronan stood there for a bit, silently persisting before his father gave him another little nudge and he stepped back, sighing. "Fine. Be safe, Paps."
"I will. Don't make a fuss," he reminded his son, before stepping fully out the door and shutting it behind him.
Letting out a soft puff of exasperation from his nose, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, the stiff sleeves of his thick wool overshirt bunching up at his elbows. The temperature was getting even colder than usual—he shouldn't be taking so long to get out the door, or else all the cold air would seep in. I need to wake up earlier so that Ronan doesn't catch me slipping out again, he noted to himself.
They'd been part of Flintlock Lodge for a little over a year now, and ever since the first month had past, it seemed as though Ronan was already getting antsy in the idleness of it all, and how he didn't get to just run around and do whatever he wanted so long as he didn't hurt himself too badly. Cass had suggested that he find some new books in the libraries, or ask the caretakers if he could help them take care of the animals, but Ronan had dismissed those possibilities with a swift shake of his head and an "I don't wanna do that." He was pretty sure that space travel was easier than raising a son, but he didn't regret a second of it.
Cass made the lengthy walk to the mouth of the forest, quiet so as to not disturb those that didn't wake as early as he did. He gave a few brief nods to those who passed, but didn't stop for conversation.
However, he did pause just before he was going to check his traps, checking his surroundings just in case there was anyone who was going hunting as well. Heading into the forest alone was fine by him, and he liked the tranquility (besides, most of the extremely dangerous animals would've been scared away from the parts of the forest closest to the village), but if there was someone around that was less experienced or simply needed/wanted a partner, who was he to ignore them?[/gfont] [align=center]
[align=center][div style="width: 470px; text-align: justify; font-family: andale mono; font-size: 7pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 1px; line-height: 14px;"]tw. mercy killing, mention of death
It had been a year.
A year since Victor had been laid to rest by the hands of Edmund. A mercy killing, he would relentlessly remind himself, otherwise he would be driven to the brink of madness with the remorse he felt. He simply could not define the state that he had been in following Victor’s death. That had been his best friend. Edmund had been in mourning the time that Cass and Ronan had come along, exacerbating Edmund’s general cold and less than forthcoming nature. The problem was that Eddie loved too much but never showed it enough. He cared but his protectiveness was veiled with a coolness that naturally pushed people away.
Sometimes people would understand.
Alone, Edmund would wake up each morning at the crack of dawn, guided by the warm hues of sunlight filtering across his bedroom. Oftentimes, Eddie still had a couple of hours before his two children would wake up and the responsibility of carrying the lodge on his shoulders would begin. It was an exhausting cycle. Everyday, he’d wake up heavier than the sum of all his parts. He could shift, toss and turn in his sleep, restless and perturbed, but it would never help. If he could sleep a couple of hours longer, then maybe he would wake up and feel like a different man. But it would never happen. Edmund was obliged to wake up in the early hours, because it was the only fragment of peace he could cherish before becoming overcome with responsibility once more. Before he would have to face the next day with a calm indifference to the world around him.
Had Edmund and Cass gotten off on the wrong foot? Not at all — instead perhaps they hadn’t gotten off on any foot at all. It was the curse of Edmund Stirling; he may reign as the long-lived Captain of Flintlock Lodge, but it never made him fit to be hospitable at the best of times. Instead, he was often monotonous, some even labelled him shy in the company of others. Maybe he was somewhat, or maybe he favoured being a silent observer in his own life. His father had beaten that into Edmund enough times; emotional restraint was a man’s greatest power. But, more than anything, it caused Eddie to unintentionally keep everyone at arm’s length. He drove people away and he could try and blame it on his father all he could, but that was all on him.
Edmund would try to be the father that his own father could never be.
Returning from a lonesome morning patrol, Edmund shrugged the strap of his rifle further up on his shoulder as he searched for something else to get on with before the majority of the lodge would rise from their slumber. Nearby, Cass had stopped nearby, Edmund meeting his gaze before hesitating in one spot. Out to go hunting again, Edmund imagined. He ought to admit that Cass seemed to be a fine hunter, often bringing plenty of food to the table if he remembered correctly. ❝ Hey. ❞ Edmund greeted softly with a polite tip of his head, pausing for a moment longer before wandering over. ❝ Need an extra hand? I was just about to head back to the lodge to find something else to do. ❞
[align=center] I'M OUT OF MY MIND, REPLAYING THE SCENE
[sup]AS THESE THOUGHTS START TO ASPHYXIATE ME — NOTES.
[/sup]
[align=center][div style="padding-right:13px;"][gfont=Uchen][glow=black,2,300]JUDE "CASS" CASWELL[/glow][/gfont] [gfont=Ramaraja]"speech." — thought. — attack. — normal.[/gfont]
[gfont=Ramaraja] Cass never made the effort to get to know the people in his faction all that well—sure, he knew some by name, others by face, and others still by skill, but he seldom cared to get chummy with anyone. What was the point? It wasn't as if he'd get anywhere asking so-and-so what their favorite color was. His sister was the charming, friendly one, not him; she could do the socializing for him. He was fine with that.
Despite that, he obviously recognized Flintlock's very own Captain; if he didn't, it'd be his neck on the chopping block, wouldn't it? Their eyes catching on each other, Cass flicked his gaze away to the side out of respect (however weird it was doing it for someone who was obviously younger than him, but in terms of hierarchy, he couldn't really opt out of it, even if Edmund might've not known the custom) and gave his own little nod of acknowledgement, though his was a bit shallower. "'Morning."
He paused, shifting his stance slightly to better project. He wasn't exactly sure what kind of man Edmund was just yet, nor how he should properly address him. He didn't seem the type to be overly open or warm upon first meeting—all the better for Cass, as he wasn't that kind of person, either—but he didn't appear to be some cruel monster intent on making things harder for everyone, either. If he had leaned towards one or the other extreme, he'd be easier for Cass to interact with, he mentally complained, but he couldn't change how people behaved. Edmund was probably just some normal guy, as far as what "normal" meant nowadays. Cass shrugged slightly, hands still tucked in his pockets. "If you'd like. Just checking traps to start. I can do it by myself, if you want to stay out of the forest."
His eyes shifted to Edmund's rifle, though, nodding his chin slightly at the weapon. He didn't keep a gun, unlike many of the hunters. Ronan had quick hands and sticky fingers and a clever mind that liked to wander and get into trouble with a soul that liked to snoop, so he thought it for the best to borrow one for certain occasions instead of keeping one at home. He did well enough making traps and foraging for wild plants, and could kill bigger game by getting them to eat out of the palm of his hand and bringing out his hunting knife when it counted. Guns made a lot of noise, anyway, and tended to scare away other animals, but he couldn't deny the fact that they could be handy when used right. "Could be some good help with that gun, though. But I'm sure you have better things to do."[/gfont] [align=center]
[align=center][div style="width: 470px; text-align: justify; font-family: andale mono; font-size: 7pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 1px; line-height: 14px;"]Perhaps Edmund and Cass were more alike than they had initially supposed. Like Cass, Edmund had often left the talent of charm and likeability to his brothers, more precisely to the late Dominik and Alfonso. They were both way ahead of their years in terms of popularity — who wouldn’t adore their talkative nature? But, with notability came a risk, one which had led both brothers to an early grave. Perhaps being likeable wasn’t so practical after all; all that it did was make the target on their backs just that little bit bigger.
❝ No, no — it’s alright, I can come with. ❞ Edmund retorted with assurance, lips pursed into a thin line as he shrugged his shoulder to emphasise the rifle he kept close to his body. ❝ Bears are pretty common around here this time each year; imagine it’s because there are more than enough places for them to hibernate around these parts. ❞ He explained, trudging closer towards Cass as he peered out across the treeline. ❝ Luckily, it’s nothing that a rifle can’t fix if you ever found yourself with an unhappy grizzly. ❞ Eyes naturally avoidant, Eddie stopped nearby Cass, brows bunched together before he gestured towards the woods. ❝ Shall we get going then? ❞ Onwards Edmund trudged, boots crunching below against untouched snow.
Footprints in snowfall this fresh were often a good indication for whatever was nearby. Deer tracks were often a positive sign; its flesh could satisfy the hunger of many plus its pelt could be used in so many ways. As Edmund walked, he was silent for quite some time until eventually querying, ❝ So how do you hunt? I’ve never seen you with a gun, so I supposed I’d ask. ❞ A somewhat fumbling attempt to make small talk from a man notoriously terrible at such. But, he maintained the calm and cool presence he was so renowned for; after all, it was not that he was awkward, it was just that he preferred solitude as it had always been what felt safest for him.
[align=center] I'M OUT OF MY MIND, REPLAYING THE SCENE
[sup]AS THESE THOUGHTS START TO ASPHYXIATE ME — NOTES.
[/sup]
12-04-2021, 08:42 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-16-2021, 02:54 AM by caswell.)
[align=center][div style="padding-right:13px;"][gfont=Uchen][glow=black,2,300]JUDE "CASS" CASWELL[/glow][/gfont] [gfont=Ramaraja]"speech." — thought. — attack. — normal.[/gfont]
[gfont=Ramaraja] Cass tottered his head a bit to the side in ambivalence at Edmund's answer, weighing the effects of his company in his head. Being able to take bigger game in a shorter amount of time would be useful, but that'd really only be the case if they found any bigger game and found it worth killing. Finding elk would certainly be nice, but stumbling across a moose would send him straight back out the forest—he'd never been face-to-face with a moose before, but he certainly wasn't enthusiastic about meeting one. He knew how huge those things were, and strong to boot; Ronan had said that they were the "biggest members of the deer family, and got super aggressive when they're hungry, tired, or harassed by other animals, including humans," according to a book he read, so if they stumbled upon one of them during their hunting trip, he hoped Edmund was an especially good shot... or at least faster than Cass was.
His lips twitched very briefly, mildly amused at Edmund's grizzly remark, but quickly returned to their usual straight line. "In my experience," he spoke dryly, though not disrespectfully, eyes drawing to the snow on the forest floor. "A bear can stand up to well more than one shot at a time, 'less you've got strong rounds, a good gun, and a better eye. Even then, they can be trouble. But I've only dealt with black bears, so maybe grizzlies are different."
He gave a slight nod at Edmund's later question, though, keeping pace with him. He knew roughly when to turn and where to find his traps, though; the snow might have hurried certain critters into them and kept away certain others, depending on their distance from their homes and holes. He hoped that there were at least a few, but if there weren't, he was certain that he'd at least be able to scrounge up some berries or roots. Plants that already grew in this climate wouldn't freeze easily, he hoped.
Scanning his eyes along the forest floor, he made to veer to the right in order to check on his nearest trap before pausing at the sudden split of silence (which he was actually quite enjoying, as Edmund didn't seem uncomfortable with it), raising an eyebrow at it quietly. He ruminated on his answer as he lifted a hand to faintly gesture for Edmund to follow him to a tree trunk with a cage-like structure near it, not particularly rushing to get his words out. He waited until the trap was in touching distance, kneeling and brushing the snow off it to see a small squirrel perk up inside of it. "Like this," he remarked plainly, tapping the top of the cage with a knuckle and causing the squirrel to squeak. "Use the butt of my knife to kill it in one blow. For bigger animals, I get them to eat out of my hand before cutting an artery or something like that. I won't kill them if I don't know where to do it quickly, so my game tends to be the same type most days."[/gfont] [align=center]
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