pedal pusher — hunting, open.

[EDMUND.]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: andale mono; font-size: 6.5pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 1px; line-height: 14px; color: #484a4d"]The Stirling family were well-esteemed hunters, perhaps not in the way one would imagine. Growing up in the midst of Boston, there weren’t deer to hunt down or rabbits to shoot — oftentimes the privilege of his family’s wealth ran far deeper than what some would expect. For a long time, his area had maintained its pre-blackout status using generators to keep them unenlightened to the collapsing society around them. But, they were still hunters all the same, except disguised in sumptuous suits and protected by their unspeakable reputation. Nobody was safe if they chose to anger the Stirling family and yet remain somewhat within the Stirling's radar. As long as the Stirlings had their well formed networks, people could try to run but the hunter would always seek their prey.

On a sled, Eddie dragged back the carcass of a freshly hunted buck, rifle slung of his shoulder and hair very slightly dishevelled from his journey. Accompanying him was young Henry and Ida, the two youngsters plodding along beside Eddie as they returned from their lesson of survival in these perilous parts. Eddie gave the sled a sharp tug as it lumbered unsteadily over dirt where the very fine patches of snow provided minimal assistance. ❝ Once we get to the lodge, I can then teach you both how to butcher the carcass. Meat goes to the kitchen, offal and bone to the dogs, a’right? ❞ Irish brogue always sounded thicker in the presence of his family and, in this case, his two younger half-siblings nodded obediently before Ida spoke up.

❝ Do we get to do the cutting? ❞ She questioned with a squeak, pulling Eddie’s one flannel shirt that she ❛ borrowed ❜ permanently tighter around her lithe frame. The shirt was oversized, especially over her small shoulders, but Ida enjoyed the closeness she felt in looking up to her older brother. Henry, on the other hand, was more subtle in his admiration, but he wished for nothing more than to be like Edmund and to involve himself more and more in the family business. He simply wanted to prove his worth, show that even whilst they had once been considered bastard children by Eddie and his full brothers, Henry was still more than eager to play his part in the business. He bent over backwards to prove himself, to prove his worth and show that he was not the impure blood that his older half-brothers once spoke of. Nowadays he was lucky — following Frank’s departure and Alfie and Dominik’s deaths — he was left only with Edmund and Thomas to look up to. They were in the best hands, some would say, as at least Ed and Tommy were mature enough to put former differences aside.

It was hard to hold a grudge when they were family.

❝ Maybe if you’re good, Ida; yes. ❞ Eddie returned, showing the children how to hang the deer up by its legs to prepare it for butchering. Soon, Ed revealed a hunting knife from its sheath, slicing down the carcass without hesitation as he began to explain to the children what they should do. Blood was on his hands as he removed offal from the cavity, brows knitted sternly as eyes darted from the two children watching before looking back at his work.

Blood on his hands, many would say as if it stopped at the wrists. Perhaps for many, that was the true extent of their deeds. As for Eddie, it seldom made sense for him. It was the suggestion that every other part of his body and soul was not drenched in the blood of many, and that the damage remained only on his hands, only on his fingertips. But the blood tainted all of him; the extent of all he’d hunted would follow him throughout the entire course of his life. The blood was not on his hands. It was everywhere, and he'd come to accept that as fact.

[LEONARDO.]

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YOU DON'T WANT MY CONVERSATION — X
JUST NEED SOME CONFIRMATION

Leo surprises himself, sometimes, with the things he’s capable of doing.

He carries three rabbits, all three tied together by the legs and slung over his back. In the other hand, he carries a bag with some random herbs he managed to find while hunting. He learned through tracking rabbits that they usually pass by or will stop to eat random plants they find scattered on the mountain, and so he figured it would be best to kill two birds with one stone- kill the rabbit, take the herbs.

Before the blackout him and his family were never hunters. They lived and breathed New York City, and there was no place to hunt in New York, there was no need to and his family never desired to. But when he joined Flintlock it was a necessity.
In the beginning he honestly felt guilty for being useless, in a way. He had never killed an animal before and was honestly sort of squeamish. He quickly realized how he had never really learned to care for himself, and if he was going to survive post blackout? He would need to learn to hunt game. If not for himself, then at least for the rest of the members of Flintlock.
It was lucky, though, that there were people in the group that were willing to let him learn from them. Usually just letting him sit in and watch them skin and dissect an animal carcass, taking note of what was used and what wasn’t.
But it was inevitable, he had to learn to actually hunt.

Eventually NPC would step up and actually teach him to track the different animals he could find on the mountain. Now, the tracking, for Leo, was his favorite part. It was never an issue. He preferred watching for the footsteps in the snow, trying to figure out if they went this way or that, trying to stay downwind from his prey. It was always the part where he had to kill where he always hesitated, and really, it ruined a good many of his hunts in the past.
He used to get into his own head a lot, always overthinking- Should I shoot it here? Or there? Will it die fast enough? Will I have to chase it more?

He doesn’t do it as much anymore. It's important to never waste a moment  when it comes to smaller animals- they’re too smart, too quick, always with an eye out. You wait too long and they’re already gone. And especially with the rabbits on the mountain, they were already learning his movements. They’ve moved their homes now, away from the areas he usually checks and into the more snowy areas. The tunnels he usually traps have been deserted.

Leo plops the three rabbits onto a table in the lodge, placing the bag of herbs nearby.
Laying each individual rabbit side by side, he tries to untie the rope that bound them all together so that he could get to work on them, one by one. But, apparently, he had knotted the rope a little too tight this time. Leo reaches into his pocket, his other pocket, and finally his back pockets until he realizes that he’s forgotten his hunting knife.

Damn.

He rummages around the lodging, and upon finding no hunting knife, he quickly leaves.
Did I drop it in the snow? Fuck.
He tries retracing his steps, following his own footprints in the snow backwards until he gives up on that and decides to look back and rummage through his own assigned lodging, looking through his drawers, cabinets, even his bed. Still, nothing.

By the time he gets back to his rabbits, he realizes Edmund is there also, with his own kill. Henry and Ida by his side, watching him take apart the buck and eagerly trying to get in on the action.
Leo clears his throat, trying not to surprise anyone too much, and takes a few steps towards the group.

“Ed,” He says as he takes his step forwards, “can’t find my knife.” He gestures behind him towards the table with the rabbits, all still bound together.
And Leo notices now the blood covering Ed's hands and starts to regret asking for help- hoping he's not being too inconvenient.

[EDMUND.]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: andale mono; font-size: 6.5pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 1px; line-height: 14px; color: #484a4d"]This mountain was no place to go misplacing weapons. Weapons were a man’s livelihood around here, sometimes their only means of survival. How many years ago had it been since Eddie lobbed his pistol into the snow following the death of his oldest brother? It had taken hours of scouring the area in order to come across the handgun again, in a time where it could have been used to try and defend the Lodge. Ever since, it remained attached to the hip, safe in its holster. The very same thing went for his rifle, so loyally near to him as he’d wander the mountain with it slung over his shoulder. After everything that he had experienced whilst being in Flintlock Lodge, Edmund was always seen with a weapon.

Call it paranoia, but there were seldom a moment where Edmund wasn’t on edge, perhaps sometimes too quick to clutch at a weapon as if it had become more a comfort blanket than a means to harm another life. It wasn’t healthy the way he relied upon danger as a means to comfort himself, but danger was all that he knew. And even when it came to butchering the carcass in front of him, he seemed too comfortable with the idea of using something made to harm another.

❝ Ed, can’t find my knife. ❞ Leo announced with a gesture towards the kill that he had managed to return back to the Lodge. Without his knife, he’d be unable to go any further with the rabbits  — there was no way he could butcher any of them without it. Henry and Ida said nothing, only quietly looking between where Leo stood and the game that Eddie was collecting meat from, until Eddie turned to face Leo, shoulders slumping slightly. ❝ Where’d you see it last, ‘ey? ❞ He enquired, hands open and palms facing up as he left the knife on a tree stump beside him. ❝ Could probably let you borrow somebody’s for the time being otherwise. ❞