when death rides a horse — open.

[BROCK.]

[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;"]It had been a blusterous day, the sun sitting askew within the sky as if the breeze had left it somewhat tilted. With a rigid, limping gait, Brock prowled down the main street of Alexandra, dust billowing as boots thumped across the dirt road. A mean scowl sat atop his lips, yet it was near impossible to deny the way his heart slammed against his chest. ❝ There’s a man and woman that say they’re looking for ya, Chief! ❞ A toothless rancher had announced through panted breaths only a few minutes prior as he ran to the Chief’s quaint farmhouse on the other side of the ghost town. ❝ A lad and lass named Layne and Gemma. You know them? ❞ Brock’s breath had hitched in the back of his throat, dark eyes sternly darting towards the rancher as he glowered his way.

❝ Sorry, Chief. I just thought, y’know— ❞ ❝ Where are they? ❞ ❝ just thought that you maybe— ❞ ❝ Boy. Where are they? ❞ ❝ It just seems like maybe they ain’t good people if you look so worried ‘n’ all, maybe I should’ve brought them with me and— ❞ ❝ My God, it feels as if it’s Groundhog Day ‘cause I keep having to ask you the same goddamn question. Where the hell are they?! ❞ The rancher grimaced, his awkward fumbling earning a glare from Brock as he pulled himself up onto his feet with a grunt. ❝ By the saloon, Sir! Sorry about that! Y’know what it’s like when there’s so much happenin’ and it’s such a quiet town, it’s just a bit overwh— ❞

With a short sigh and shake of his head, Brock walked away from the conversation, exasperated and on edge as he anticipated trouble. Calloused hands felt for the two pistols that sat on either side of his hips as he turned the corner, and then his arms fell to his side again upon noticing Layne and Gemma in his town, the blond man peering into the saloon through its window. ❝ How are you doing today, Miss? ❞ Brock greeted Gemma with a tense glower, keeping some distance away from the pair. The blond man lifted his head to look over towards Brock, closed lips giving Brock a hint of a sneering smile before he asked, ❝ So, how are the goods you stole off me? ❞ 

Straight to it. At least they wouldn’t have to settle for any artificial formalities beforehand. ❝ Which one? ❞ Brock returned with a fake, toothy grin. Just daring to provoke the duo. Layne’s lip twitched with a great level of self-restraint, glancing towards Gemma before looking back towards Brock. ❝ My livestock. ❞ ❝ Oh, why do you have to make this all about you? Look around you, we’re living in the New World. It’s changing, it’s evolving; I’m just changing with it. So what are you going to say now? ❞ Layne grimaced and after a couple of seconds of thought he murmured, ❝ My father is as good as dead because of you. You’ve ruined everything for him. Everything for me. ❞ Layne shook his head with contempt, eyes like daggers as they stared across at the man in the dark coat who had taken everything from him.

Brock scoffed. ❝ No, what I don’t think you understand is that you seem to think that, in the New World, everyone gets to live and everyone gets to win. Don’t get me wrong, that’s one hell of a cute mindset… But it’s a lie, isn’t that right, Gemma? It’s a dog eat dog world out there. You’d know a lot about that, yeah? ❞ He provoked, waiting to see how long it would take before one of them would crack. After all, practicing self-restraint in the midst of the lion's den showed great strength. If either of them were to make any extreme moves, Brock was certain that his people would stand up for him in an instant. ❝ So tell me... The hell are you doing here on my land? ❞

[david benson.]

it is empty achilles, so end it all now
it's a pointless resistance for you

---

David never enjoyed conflict. When an argument would spark between his parents, he would cover his ears. He hated being around when fights would break out. He felt so scared, his heart would thrum in his chest and all he wanted was to get away. He didn't understand why. Everyone should get along, why would they hate each other? He just wanted everyone to get along. The whole fight with Flintlock nearly caused David to lose it, when Roxanne took off and didn't come back until the fight was well over. She was covered in blood and grinning. David's heart would have given up if she didn't return.

He hated thinking about what would have happened.

Currently, David had been passing Brock and he immediately stepped out of his way when he saw the sour look on his face. He followed behind, his hands rubbing together anxiously. He saw Layne and Gemma and slowed to a stop near the end of the row of buildings that Brock disappeared around. These two were not good people, from the way that Brock was talking to them. David glanced at Brock with hesitance when the missing livestock was brought up--they did just get some new livestock recently, and David just assumed that they were from a trade.

David opened his mouth, but shut it when Brock and Layne continued. He stood behind Brock, both literally and metaphorically. While Brock did some questionable choices, David didn't think he could have stuck with anyone differently. Maybe it was the hope Brock gave him, be it false or not. He trusted Brock. He gave him a home when no one else could. David's brows pinched together.

---

achilles, achilles, just put down the bottle
don't listen to what you've consumed

---

[spoiler=//tags — updated ;; 08/01/21]
general
> david benson ;; n/a
> male ;; he/him
> 35 years ;; ages real time ;; may 15th
> bluestem prairie

physical
> physical health ;; 85%
> minor injuries ;; a few scrapes
> major injuries ;; n/a
> important things to note ;; david has a bad skin condition that causes his body to break out into mass acne ; his face, shoulders, and back get the worst of it ; has burn scars on his arms

appearance
> long, brown hair ; pale brown eyes ; rather large with a strongman physique ; 7'6" ; just over 400 lbs
> no body modifications
> wears anything loose ; big, white shirt that's stained with dirt and sweat ; sweatpants that are also stained with dirt
> no carried items
> important things to note ;; his wisdom teeth have all grown in in clumps ; he has no back teeth

personality
> very friendly ; hesitant around strangers ; difficult to gain his trust ; general sweetheart ; likes to compliment people ; very protective of his daughter ; very self-less and usually lets people eat before he does ; awkward with forced interactions ; prefers to be the one to start conversations ; very laid back
> anxiety ; autism ; separation anxiety
> eyebrows twitch a lot

relationships
> margaret benson x charles benson ;; parents - alive
> mary-anne (mary) benson ;; sister - alive
> lavania masters ;; girlfriend - deceased
      > passed in a house break-in
> roxanne benson ;; daugher - alive
> demisexual ; panromantic
> no crushes

interaction/confrontation
> medium mentally | easy physically
> non-violent power play allowed
> will not attack/kill/maim/capture without asking the author
> do not kill/maim/capture without asking me (timothy)
> if you want to attack, use this colour (red) and underline it

misc importance
> "this is him talking." ;; his speech is in bold
> this is him thinking ;; thoughts are in italics
[/spoiler]

credit @ kenneth

[GEMMA]

[align=center][div style="width: 400px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; font-family: times new roman; letter-spacing: .6px;"]it had been awhile since gemma gallagher had stepped foot in bluestem prairie's territory. the last time she had been there, she had been screaming over a dozen curses at brock with her arms held firmly behind her by one of the ranchers. her judgment was better on most days, she shouldn't have ever let him get the upper hand with her, but before she could even realize what was happening, he had won. moonshining was something that had been in her family for generations now, it was a skill that her grandfather had taught her when he was the one to stand up and raise her. there was always a risk that came around with it, making it so gemma spent a handful of years following her grandfather's footsteps up in the same cabin in the mountains, keeping to herself while she produced and sold the moonshine. if she hadn't decided to leave, brock wouldn't have stolen her distillery. 

brock may have won the battle, but gemma was determined to win the war.

"would be better if i didn't have to see that ugly face of yours."

gemma crossed her arms, turning to look into the saloon like layne did. she listened to the conversation happening behind her, rolling her eyes briefly at what brock had to say. it wasn't long before he brought her into the conversation, one of her eyebrows raising. clearing her throat, she let out a dry and low laugh, shaking her head.

"i guess you could call it that..." turning around, gemma tilted her head to the side as her dark eyes stared down bluestem prairie's leader. "i'd hate to ruin your little speech ya have goin' on, but since we go way back and i'm fair to middlin' right now, i'll give ya a fair warning." gemma unfolded her arms and pulled her bandanna down from over her face and let it rest around her neck before taking a couple steps closer back to where the two men were standing. "there's going to be a day where i put a bullet between your eyes, but you'd understand, right? it's a dog eat dog world, everyone else can thrive and evolve while you're buried six feet deep in a bone orchard." her lips formed into a dry, tightlipped smile. "funny how shit works, huh?"

there was a few moments of silence before gemma straightened up her posture. "so, here's how this is gonna work for ya - " gemma cleared her throat, looking around at the people who began to stop and stare at the commotion. once gemma looked back towards brock, her eyes narrowed and she refused to break the eye contact. "you got one of two options to pick from, brock. ya see, i'm not here to give ya a hard time, i can be flexible. you know me, right? i can be one to make some negotiations, but with this one, you only got the two choices. there's no flannel mouthin’ with this one." she let out a few sarcastic laughs, raising her arms up in a carelessly relaxed way. "so, here ya go. option one - " she raised her hand up and extended her pointer finger as she held it up in the air at him. "you either give the herriott family back their livestock, give me my distillery back with all of the 'shine you made with it and the goods that you traded it for, and then you pack up your shit and leave so i don't have to see your face again - we'll be all in apple pie order after that." then she raised a second finger.

"or, you be the coward that we both know you really are and you refuse. you hide behind your lil group of worshippers and i come back and stick true to my promise of you getting a pretty little bullet right there in that big head of yours before taking back our shit." it probably wasn't always the best idea to threaten people in their own territory, but gemma wasn't one to be cautious or back down from something like this. she knew she was capable of holding her own, she had taken on a dozen of men by herself before, but more importantly, she knew that brock knew what she had been capable of.

// some of the different like cowboy phrases i found/used DFGHJK
fair to middlin - doing pretty good , so so
bone orchard - graveyard / cemetery
flannel mouth - smooth talker
in apple pie order - to be in top shape / high quality