living in the moment >> open

[MICHAEL.]

[align=center]

[div style="borderwidth; width: 400px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; color: #4B3E2D; line-height: 14px; font-size: 11pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]"speech" 'thought' text
tw: alcohol, death, lots of blood, profanity, heavy violence, religion

It had been over two weeks since Michael had discovered the headless body of his only son laying washed up on the beach. Every day since had been washed with pain. While he had not shed a tear since discovering the body. He also had not spoken a word since that heart wrenching cry of anguish that had torn its way from his lips before he could keep it in.

The dark haired man had cut his shaggy hair since then, shaved his bushy beard, and quietly existed in the background of the daily grind at the Badlands. He had a hole in his heart that would never go away, everything was... exhausting, painful, almost too much for him to handle, and yet he continued.

There was a nagging suspicion at the back of his mind that told him to be wary of anyone that was in the area when he had found Will's body. And that meant Cat, that Salem chap, anyone in the Badlands really. It meant that he had to be on his guard at all times, he never knew when he'd come across his son's killer, and when that day came, he would have words to speak.

He clenched his jaw slightly, and held a piece of the shirt his son had been wearing, it was devoid of any scent aside from the sea... but it was all he had left, even Will's locket, the one with a picture of Jenny in it was not with his body... perhaps he would never find it. The man buried his head in his hands for a moment, pain was exhausting.

Mike straightened his body, it was pointless to mourn, he would mourn after he'd found the killer, until then, silent and impassive would he be. With this resolution, he tucked the lime green scrap of cloth into his inner pocket, and turned back to the small, pearl handled pistol he was cleaning... it had been intended as a gift for Cat, for their birthday, but now... now he wasn't so sure he trusted Cat with the weapon.

Sitting outside his shack. It looked pretty dingy on the outside, but on the inside it was much better than it had once been. Clean, tidy, organized, and cozy... not that it mattered, there wasn't much to do on that. Silently he polished the pearl handle, nothing to do now but plan.

[capt. salem]

LIES A THOUSAND HORRIFYING MEMORIES | | |

The sad thing was, Salem actually hadn't killed that one. He'd slaughtered his fair number of people, sometimes for personal reasons and othertimes for no reason at all, but that man - Mike, he'd eventually learned the name after asking around - well, he couldn't blame him for the death of what Salem could only assume was a friend or family member.

Or maybe he could still blame him, it really didn't matter to Salem. He had bigger fish to fry than a mourning old man. Well- actually no, he had irons in the fire but nothing concrete to do right now. Wasn't that fucked up? He knew the people he needed to take off this earth but it took forever to actually catch them.

So instead of sitting around twiddling his thumbs and stewing in his anger, he decided to pay a visit to their resident... Ugh, he didn't have a joke for Mike yet. He knew basically jack shit about the man, mainly because he refused to speak whatsoever. Still, Salem found himself approaching the dingy shack that Mike was sitting outside of.

"Nice pistol, bud." Salem commented, coming to a stop before the porch as he looked at the pearl-handled gun in Mike's hands. "Into designer guns, hmm?" He was trying to tempt Mike into saying something, or even reacting with something other than a blank, creepy stare.

[justify]I feel the unbearable weight, [abbr=Goes by Salem or Monty | He/Him or They/Them Pronouns | 28yrs Old | 6'3"| Councilman of the Badlands | Former pirate captain | Sexuality is a unlabeled free for all, romance is questioning]&[/abbr]
I sense the ripping of my shame, [abbr=Medium-Hard Physically | Hard Mentally | Attacks with whip, scimitar or revolver | Open to capture and maim if requested / discussed prior | Not open for death | Difficult but not impossible to defeat or subdue]&[/abbr]
I hear the sigh of indifference [abbr=Guy Fieri aesthetic | Neck-length dull brownish-grey hair | Bright green eyes | Three piercings on both ears (two on top cartilage, one large on lobe), and a lip piercing | Scruffy beard starting to grow in | Both pinky fingers cut off]&[/abbr]
(IC Opinions)[/justify]

[CATALYST]

[align=center]

﹝[abbr=don't look back]♢[/abbr]﹞

Mike should know by now that Cat wasn't a needlessly violently person. Each violent action they took, each person they killed, there was a reason behind it. Maybe it was revenge or punishment or defense, but if they wanted to fight for the fuck of it they'd bitch at Addy or Salem and go just a little too far. But as weird as it was to think, they thought that their brawling, fear-ruling days were pretty much over. Or at least, far less frequent. Gavril and Mo (and Molly and Austin and maybe even Paige and Louie) had brought a sense of domesticity to them, something they didn't even know or think was possible.

And here they were.

That wasn't to say that they were incapable of it, not at all. And whether Mike liked it or not, they were always ready for a fight, heavily armed and ready for whatever the world through at them. Perhaps they'd been a more violent person ten months ago and before because in the end, it didn't matter what happened to them. If they died, no one would care, and that included them. Now things were different. They had a family, and if nothing else they had to stay alive for them, and if they couldn't do that they better go down protecting them. And take as many motherfuckers down as they could.

So whether or not Mike decided to give them the gun, they would still have one. The only question was if it would be as dark and edgy as they were, or as ostentatious as they were. Either was fine by them, truth be told, they weren't that picky. (Odd, since usually they are that picky).

"Of course he is." Cat said, coming to a halt next to Salem. They'd come here to check on their most unstable individual. Actually, they weren't sure if that was him anymore. He hadn't done anything recently, but Salem had recently painted the casino steps red. You know what? They were both on Cat's mental notice of instability. Which was a thing, apparently. Their gaze flicked over Mike, and their lips parted, wanting to say something, but they had nothing. Not about to stand there gaping, they closed their mouth.

[spoiler=IF YOU DONT KNOW NOW YOU KNOW && INFO && 12/12/19]GENERAL  welcome to the end of eras, ice has melted back to life
⇥ Given name is Scott Mathew Darrow ⇥ Alias is Catalyst
⇥ Will accept Cat or Catalyst from anyone, Scott only from family
⇥ Assigned male at birth ⇥ Agender ⇥ They/Them pronouns only
⇥ Twenty-one ⇥ Born 11/27/17 ⇥ Sagittarius ⇥ Real time aging
⇥ Boss (leader) of the Badlands ⇥ Ex prisoner of the Badlands
⇥ Ex cultist (Mourningstar) ⇥ Ex member of the Young Rogues

RECENT EVENTS  done my time and served my sentence
⇥ 09/12/39 ⇥ Made their return to public life in the Badlands
⇥ 09/07/39 ⇥ Took a break to recover from their illness
⇥ 11/02/39 ⇥ Came down with a cold

APPEARANCE  dress me up and watch me die
⇥ Catalyst is 6'2" tall; they possess a lean and muscular body, one that has a variety of old scars adorning it. One of the easiest to notice is one that stretches down their right cheek. While not a scar, one very notable marking on their chest is the "BL" brand. They have two piercings, one in their tongue and the other in the cartilage of their left ear. They typically dress in dark colors (favoring jackets with some sort of writing on the back), and their hair is black. They're not all dark, however, as they have pale blue eyes that peer out from beneath medium-sized eyebrows.

PERSONALITY  if it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine
⇥ Catalyst is ambitious, with the cunning and ruthlessness to reach their goals by any means necessary. They can be brutal when they feel it is needed, however when it's not they won't bother. They tend to be rather aloof and apathetic to most things and people, with some very rare exceptions. Provided those around them don't cross a few specific lines, they're content to leave them be, though they've been known to take an interest in some people, which seldom has a positive end for whoever their interest is in. They can be manipulative, and will often encourage people to make bad decisions. Those that stick by them will be rewarded, but those that do not will be cast out, as they've been outcast for their entire life and have learned to appreciate loyalty wherever they can find it. Even during the most stressful of situations, they usually keep a firm grip on their temper and keep their calm, though when they do snap and lose their temper, it is uncontrollable. They're remarkably observant, often able to deign much from subtle clues in what people say, how they say it and how they act.

RELATIONS  dynasty decapitated, you just might see a ghost tonight
⇥ Molly Darrow x Austin Darrow ⇥ No biological siblings
⇥ Adopted parent of Molly Valentina Darrow-Lupei (Mo)
⇥ Pansexual/Panromantic ⇥ Very much taken by Gavril Lupei
⇥ Not looking but it happened ⇥ Rarely forms romantic attachment
⇥ Holds most people at arms length and doesn't get close

INTERACTION  i'm taking back the c r o w n
⇥ Hard physically ⇥ Hard mentally ⇥ Doesn't let their guard down
⇥ Is most comfortable with close ranged-weapons ⇥ Dislikes guns
⇥ Brass knuckles ⇥ A variety of knives ⇥ Carries a handgun
⇥ Will kill/capture/maim in certain circumstances
⇥ Will leave things be in others ⇥ Will start & finish fights
⇥ No kill/capture/maim without permission
⇥ Attack in bold #0d0d0d and tag @/Bryne
⇥ Peaceful powerplay allowed but they may react negatively
⇥ Dislikes almost any sort of touch unless they initiate or agree to it
[/spoiler]

[MICHAEL.]

[align=center]

[div style="borderwidth; width: 400px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; color: #4B3E2D; line-height: 14px; font-size: 11pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]"speech" 'thought' text
tw: alcohol, death, lots of blood, profanity, heavy violence, religion

If Salem's existence, appearance, words had any impact on Mike it would have been hard to tell, his gaze flickered away from the gun for a microsecond before then trained back on the weapon, the cloth in his hand slowly being moved over the handle of the gun, polishing it within an inch of its life.

He had nothing really left, everything else had been taken from him. His love... what was there left for him to give? It had been buried with Jenny, resurrected with Will, and then cremated with Will... was there any love left in his heart? He sincerely doubted it, after all he had been through, every beating, every time he'd been knocked down he'd gotten back up again.

And even after this sucker punch that life had thrown at him, while he had grown quiet, pensive, brooding, he still was up again, planning... planning what he would do when he got his hands on his son's killer. Not if. There was no if, he would find the person or person's responsible, and when he did there would be hell to pay... no person would suffer more than the one who had taken Will's life.

It was a promise, and Mike Ford always kept his promises.

Perhaps he would not have looked up again, but Cat's appearance brought their gaze once again away from the weapon he was working on. It had been intended as a birthday gift for Cat, but part of Mike wasn't sure about it, the irrational part which believed that someone in the Badlands was behind the death of Will.

Though Cat would be very low down on the rational, logical list. His eyes met with Cat's for a few seconds, and he clenched his jaw slightly, not in rebellion or distaste, but in an attempt to hide any of the pain which was evident from the boss. No weakness, not to anyone. His shoulders went up slightly in a shrug, though he dipped his head in recognition of Cat, perhaps their status, perhaps their presence, but certainly in respect.

While Mike was a tough old soldier, Cat had won his respect, if not his "affection" that in a lose term defining whether or not Mike really liked the young leader of the group. He was ambivalent at best towards the character of the leader, though he could admit (if he ever chose to speak again) that he did respect Cat, and even, to some extent, trust the (mildly) caniving bastard.

With a deep breath inhaled and exhaled he returned to the most pressing matter, the perfection of the small handgun he was working on. If Cat knew the amount of collection worthy pieces Mike had picked up over the years, Mike wondered what the boss would say. He had quite the stashes all over the Badlands, though some of them had doubtless been found and exploited by the residents thereof.

But some were well hidden, hell, he had a few guns under the floorboards of his shack that Cat probably didn't know about, (though he could never truly know with that particular person).

[capt. salem]

LIES A THOUSAND HORRIFYING MEMORIES | | |

Salem wasn't sure what he expected; perhaps a powerful presence, worthy of his position as a bandanna-holder and Grunt of the Badlands? Hell, he would've taken someone he could have a fun conversation with. Or another ribbing partner. But nope, he got a mute depressed mess who barely acknowledged he wasn't also deaf.

Cat got a reaction, but of course Cat did. It was hard to not react to their collective boss, they were certainly a noticeable presence. But Salem wasn't here to think about Cat, he was here to poke a bear until it mauled him or did anything else interesting.

"I'll have to remember for Secret Santa, then. You know, if we got a fake beard and dyed his hair, he'd make a good Santa; I'm sure Mo would love it." Salem said to Cat, putting his hands on his hips and allowing himself to favor one leg that was still a bit sore from passing out in the casino the night prior.

"Of course, if you object to these plans you can say so, bud." Salem added, offering another chance for Mike to break into the conversation though deep down he knew it'd be spurned. Sure, he might be a chronic douchebag with little impulse control and a bit of a problem with desiring power, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to be a good conversational partner.

[justify]I feel the unbearable weight, [abbr=Goes by Salem or Monty | He/Him or They/Them Pronouns | 28yrs Old | 6'3"| Councilman of the Badlands | Former pirate captain | Sexuality is a unlabeled free for all, romance is questioning]&[/abbr]
I sense the ripping of my shame, [abbr=Medium-Hard Physically | Hard Mentally | Attacks with whip, scimitar or revolver | Open to capture and maim if requested / discussed prior | Not open for death | Difficult but not impossible to defeat or subdue]&[/abbr]
I hear the sigh of indifference [abbr=Guy Fieri aesthetic | Neck-length dull brownish-grey hair | Bright green eyes | Three piercings on both ears (two on top cartilage, one large on lobe), and a lip piercing | Scruffy beard starting to grow in | Both pinky fingers cut off]&[/abbr]
(IC Opinions)[/justify]

[CATALYST]

[align=center]

﹝[abbr=don't look back]♢[/abbr]﹞

Before Will's untimely demise, Salem's expectations would have been met. In his prime and even after, Mike was someone that possessed a certain air; one that was not to be messed with. He was imposing, always drew the eye if only for a moment. But now, what had Salem expected to find really? Even a former Marine could be depressed after his son's death.

And really, who wouldn't be?

"Isn't Santa meant to be jolly?" It wasn't an indictment; even on his best days Mike was rarely cheery. And that was just fine in Cat's book; they'd rather someone be broody than feign joy. "Could you really not find Addy to harass?" Were they defending Mike? Yeah, they supposed they were.

//this post is. what. I can like. see what it was supposed to be but then it turned into this. I'm sorry

[spoiler=IF YOU DONT KNOW NOW YOU KNOW && INFO && 12/12/19]GENERAL  welcome to the end of eras, ice has melted back to life
⇥ Given name is Scott Mathew Darrow ⇥ Alias is Catalyst
⇥ Will accept Cat or Catalyst from anyone, Scott only from family
⇥ Assigned male at birth ⇥ Agender ⇥ They/Them pronouns only
⇥ Twenty-one ⇥ Born 11/27/17 ⇥ Sagittarius ⇥ Real time aging
⇥ Boss (leader) of the Badlands ⇥ Ex prisoner of the Badlands
⇥ Ex cultist (Mourningstar) ⇥ Ex member of the Young Rogues

RECENT EVENTS  done my time and served my sentence
⇥ 09/12/39 ⇥ Made their return to public life in the Badlands
⇥ 09/07/39 ⇥ Took a break to recover from their illness
⇥ 11/02/39 ⇥ Came down with a cold

APPEARANCE  dress me up and watch me die
⇥ Catalyst is 6'2" tall; they possess a lean and muscular body, one that has a variety of old scars adorning it. One of the easiest to notice is one that stretches down their right cheek. While not a scar, one very notable marking on their chest is the "BL" brand. They have two piercings, one in their tongue and the other in the cartilage of their left ear. They typically dress in dark colors (favoring jackets with some sort of writing on the back), and their hair is black. They're not all dark, however, as they have pale blue eyes that peer out from beneath medium-sized eyebrows.

PERSONALITY  if it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine
⇥ Catalyst is ambitious, with the cunning and ruthlessness to reach their goals by any means necessary. They can be brutal when they feel it is needed, however when it's not they won't bother. They tend to be rather aloof and apathetic to most things and people, with some very rare exceptions. Provided those around them don't cross a few specific lines, they're content to leave them be, though they've been known to take an interest in some people, which seldom has a positive end for whoever their interest is in. They can be manipulative, and will often encourage people to make bad decisions. Those that stick by them will be rewarded, but those that do not will be cast out, as they've been outcast for their entire life and have learned to appreciate loyalty wherever they can find it. Even during the most stressful of situations, they usually keep a firm grip on their temper and keep their calm, though when they do snap and lose their temper, it is uncontrollable. They're remarkably observant, often able to deign much from subtle clues in what people say, how they say it and how they act.

RELATIONS  dynasty decapitated, you just might see a ghost tonight
⇥ Molly Darrow x Austin Darrow ⇥ No biological siblings
⇥ Adopted parent of Molly Valentina Darrow-Lupei (Mo)
⇥ Pansexual/Panromantic ⇥ Very much taken by Gavril Lupei
⇥ Not looking but it happened ⇥ Rarely forms romantic attachment
⇥ Holds most people at arms length and doesn't get close

INTERACTION  i'm taking back the c r o w n
⇥ Hard physically ⇥ Hard mentally ⇥ Doesn't let their guard down
⇥ Is most comfortable with close ranged-weapons ⇥ Dislikes guns
⇥ Brass knuckles ⇥ A variety of knives ⇥ Carries a handgun
⇥ Will kill/capture/maim in certain circumstances
⇥ Will leave things be in others ⇥ Will start & finish fights
⇥ No kill/capture/maim without permission
⇥ Attack in bold #0d0d0d and tag @/Bryne
⇥ Peaceful powerplay allowed but they may react negatively
⇥ Dislikes almost any sort of touch unless they initiate or agree to it
[/spoiler]

[MICHAEL.]

[align=center]

[div style="borderwidth; width: 400px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; color: #4B3E2D; line-height: 14px; font-size: 11pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]"speech" 'thought' text
tw: alcohol, death, lots of blood, profanity, heavy violence, religion

In his hay day, or even a few months ago before everything started coming to a boiling point, the Insurrection, Brian, Michael might have found Salem amusing, or irritating, but now... he barely recognized that the person was there, Cat had a quiet presence around them that commanded respect. Salem... Mike didn't seem to feel any sort of presses, imposing or otherwise around that one.

He paused for half a moment in the polishing of the barrel to look up, eyes blankly seeming to stare through Salem, before he turned his attention back to the weapon. It reminded him, somewhat of the gift he'd given Silas oh so long ago... then he had also been down, but this time it was different.

He set his teeth together. Not to keep himself from talking, but in concentration, there were only a few things left to do, clean the inside of the barrel and double check the firing mechanism before the weapon was fully ready for use. Cat's words brushed over him, barely audible to the man who had tuned out all outside distraction, perhaps he should turn and go inside to avoid further disturbance, though that would be stuffy and badly lit.

It wasn't that he was incapable of talking, but that working the real problem in his head of what had happened to Will was far more important, and thinking of things to say, watching his mouth, and all that stuff took away from the mental work that he was doing right now.

He had many enemies, some dead, some mia, some all too alive and dangerous. But would any of them bring an innocent boy into things? He let go of the cloth he was using to polish the weapon to scratch his stubbled chin, grunting softly in thought before he returned his attention back to the seemingly very important project in front of him.

That grunt was as close to a response as Salem would be getting right now. A new line of thought had come to his mind. There were some people who could be responsible for Will's death, one of them all to close to home... one of them... but no, that one was dead, Mike had been in the building when it had collapsed, barely getting out himself under the rubble, four broken ribs and a broken arm to show for it.

And yet... if he had gotten out, then so could... that bastard. Mike put down the polishing cloth and let out a soft sigh. Even though he had seen (what he assumed to be) the lifeless corpse of his enemy, perhaps he was mistaken.

(I really don't know where I was going with this, or wtf it even is...)

[capt. salem]

LIES A THOUSAND HORRIFYING MEMORIES | | |

Salem had never been well- imposing would've been a strong word for him. Volatile and worthwhile to avoid? Yes, those were certainly good descriptors for him. Even back in his days out at sea, his crew had been his family; he hadn't needed to demand respect from them for many years, they were all too aware of what lurked underneath his ditsy persona.

Cat- ha, nah. Cat had been intimidating for about a week until Salem realized how little the leader cared about instilling loyalty and respect; Salem near constantly undermined them, insulted them, and disrespected them, and yet he still stood with his body intact. And it wasn't for Cat's lack of confidence either, or the laughable notion that Salem commanded any respect or fear in the younger person's eyes, he was simply slippery and too much work to put in his place.

It really was a breath of fresh air to have an authority figure that didn't care what you did so long as you left their flock of sheep alone. But make no mistake, Salem was still their sheepdog while Cat was the big bad wolf; and what would a wolf care if the sheepdog claimed one from the flock every so often, or attacked those who passed by? It was frankly in the wolf's best interest to cultivate an atmosphere of violence.

But- he was getting way too philosophical, this was supposed to be him annoying Mike into doing anything interesting and it wasn't working. "Eh, we can work without jolly. The kids around here wouldn't know the difference anyways." Salem said with a shrug.

His eyes slid to Cat, narrowing slightly. Was Cat defending this- this shell? Sentimental bastard. "If this is harassment, I'd cry wondering how you'd get along on Twitter. Or any social media, really." Salem let Cat's defensive quip roll off him. "Surely he can't mind a bit of company, hmm? Isolating yourself is a counter-productive response to tragedy." That last statement was debatable, but Salem still said it with the confidence of someone greatly anticipating rebuttal.

Salem's eyes flicked towards Mike, noticing the man had now set down his polishing cloth and sighed. But Mike still had that hundred-mile stare, and Salem couldn't help but assume he was responding to internal monologues instead of external chatter. "Looks nicely polished, bud." His voice was a bit softer as he commented, knowing that Mike wouldn't care enough to hear and Cat would be too busy sputtering at him from his earlier statements to bite back for that.

//ik its a part of his fancy But highkey IC opinions for this and btw there were a Lot of IC opinions in his last post as well, which I forgot to specify when I posted but. I'm clarifying it rn
//Also dw AJ I am on the edge of my seat w/ Mike's internal dialogue

[justify]I feel the unbearable weight, [abbr=Goes by Salem or Monty | He/Him or They/Them Pronouns | 28yrs Old | 6'3"| Councilman of the Badlands | Former pirate captain | Sexuality is a unlabeled free for all, romance is questioning]&[/abbr]
I sense the ripping of my shame, [abbr=Medium-Hard Physically | Hard Mentally | Attacks with whip, scimitar or revolver | Open to capture and maim if requested / discussed prior | Not open for death | Difficult but not impossible to defeat or subdue]&[/abbr]
I hear the sigh of indifference [abbr=Guy Fieri aesthetic | Neck-length dull brownish-grey hair | Bright green eyes | Three piercings on both ears (two on top cartilage, one large on lobe), and a lip piercing | Scruffy beard starting to grow in | Both pinky fingers cut off]&[/abbr]
(IC Opinions)[/justify]