[align=center][div style="width:490px; font-family:arial; font-size:9pt; text-align:justify"]Fucking Christ, just where in the world was this place? He had heard from plenty of passersby that a group of people had made their home in the nearby abandoned ski resort. Flintlock Lodge, it was apparently called. In the back of Victor's mind, he suspected that these people would be a bunch of wimps just huddling in for the winter, holding hands and telling ghost stories by a campfire. Whatever the case, Victor couldn't give less of a shit ( at least not at the moment ). Winter's icy claws were raking across the terrain, making it difficult to travel. He had never been so high up in the mountains around this time of year; he had been trying to discover a new civilization, somewhere where he could sleep and eat, but his plans had been interrupted. Now Victor was just trying to survive, at least.
Cloaked in a dark trenchcoat, the middle-aged man made his way up the steep and snowy hill. His boots crunched against the ground and his gloved hands clenched onto the strap of his pack. A halfway-loaded rifle was clenched in the other hand, ready to blast a fucker's head off if they tried to lay a hand on him. Frosty breaths escaped parted lips, the journey proving to be a bit winding for his tastes. All he was looking for was the ski resort, or wherever these people lived. Little did he know, he had crossed their borders long ago.
[i]I'M ALL BLOODY KNUCKLES.
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biography & storage / member of flintlock lodge
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hayley wasn’t much of a people person. it wasn’t that she was shy, or awfully rude, but that people simply had a nasty habit of disappointing, and she’d spent so long in a little world of me, myself, and i that being around others was like jumping into cold water. if you called... well, just damian people.
she hadn’t come here for herself. she could do just fine on her own, no other people needed. unfortunately, a long night and a bottle of scotch produced the bump on her normally thin abdomen, and she had to stop thinking about herself. this baby, whoever they’d go on to be, didn’t need to grow up like she had, living on the road, dighting to survive. they deserved a whole lot better than that bullshit.
she’d been taking a walk, trying to see the sights and get some air, when a hazel gaze landed on a figure. crossing her arms, she straightened a bit and moved towards the man. “hey,†she called, biting her lip, “do you have business with the flintlock lodge?†it felt awkward, this kind of confrontation, but she figured if she’d be calling this place home, raising her baby here, then she ought to take care of it.
[align=center][div style="width:490px; font-family:arial; font-size:9pt; text-align:justify"]Victor couldn't say that he was much of a people person, either. He was practically the embodiment of a lone wolf, with no pack to depend on. He had learned to fend for himself, and while he could still perfectly do so, he knew better than to hike the mountains in the coming winter. The damn frostbite would kill him if he didn't take any precautions. This lodge, however... there would be warm fires and sufficient places to sleep and perhaps enough food to help him get by. Why not take advantage of it?
The man's heavy-set eyes landed on the woman who greeted him, and he lowered the rifle's barrel to the floor. "Why, yes I do." Answered he, a noticeable accent on his tongue. His voice was rather gruff in itself, which could only be expected of a man who looked rough around the edges. Smudged dirt dusted his cheeks and the state of his hair was careless and out of place. Not that it was his top priority, however. "I wish to stay here.. if I may." His words were upfront and clear, though a smart person would be wise not to let their guard down. "The weather's making it a bit difficult to travel." There was something of an underlying maliciousness to his aura, and no matter how diplomatic he seemed, it was unmistakable.
[i]I'M ALL BLOODY KNUCKLES.
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biography & storage / member of flintlock lodge