Candy

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

It had been quite some time since Abigail wore her heart on her sleeve, and regardless of the gladness she felt when seeing that revitalized glimmer in Reuben’s eyes, her face remained utterly impassive. She maintained her seat on the bed unmoving, the supple definitions of her face seeming sculpture-like as only her eyes followed Rueben’s path. He was, after all, no threat to her. The well-known stories of his past, his respectable reputation and present conversation included, warranted no need for further caution, at least not in… certain regards.

Reuben, however, was still a man, and Abigail hadn’t allowed a man to touch her for coming on many months now. The last man to try and go taking her by the hand had ended up in the shallowest of graves. It was natural for a young lady to crave contact with the opposite of genders from time to time, but the condition of her heart, so be it her disdain toward men, had managed to abstain of such cravings. Nevertheless, she did at this time feel the necessity, or be it the obligation, to meet with Reuben’s deal-closing gesture. He couldn’t have known that by doing something so simple as shaking his hand would make this sole occasion whereof she had any variety of contact with a man, since making the acquaintance of Jacob Manning and his boys.

For the first time since he entered her room, Colt Clementine’s eyes dropped from contact with Reuben’s and fell upon the grizzly extension of his paw. There they remained, staring as if she were looking upon a foreboding darkness. Her cute little button-nose nostrils flared along with her eyes, the sound of her teeth grinding clearly heard as she remembered to breathe. Some sufferable moments later, she forced herself to move, extending her reach to his.

The firm heat of his grasp enclosed her own small hand like a glove. She froze, captured by the callused folds and sweaty textures of his grip. Her body shuttered at his touch. A sharp pain stabbed her heart. She felt the warmth of her blood rush her face. Prickles gamboled on her cheeks. The creeping of non-existent fingertips made their way down to the small of her back, causing her to shift like someone had given her an unwelcome tickle. Her facade had been compromised – the realization of which crafted a cooling flush of relief to then come over her, and in that instant, somehow, her power had been enforced. Her eyes, detached of emotion once more, shot back up to meet Reuben’s as she gave his large hand a firm shake.

At the appropriate timing, she pulled away, yet not abruptly so. She found herself unexpectedly savoring the contact. Her soft, delicate touch danced awkwardly over the contours of his palm and down the length of his fingers as she slowly pulled free of his grip, and then sat herself back against the wall with perceptual ease.

“No need to ru -” She slapped her mouth shut mid-sentence, acknowledging the fact that her voice had the trembles, and took a few shallow, calming breaths before continuing with her prior, unfettered tone. “No need to rush. We’ll be head'n out at dawn, so I’ll be expecting you’d be take’n some precious time with them whores and getting yourself some shuteye before we depart.”

She gracefully returned the Colt to the platform of her thigh while using her other hand to brush back a fall of hair behind her ear. It was so, her hardened disposition and manner of speaking may have given some folk the false impression she was older than she actually was, even to the point of eluding their visual perceptions - but for anyone absent the knowledge of said applications, the silk of her skin, the absence of blemish, the largish of her eyes, and the curved softness of her jawline had no way of establishing her appearance a day over fifteen. By strictly all visual and thus deceptive accounts, Colt Clementine was the sweetest little thing to be viewing.

“I have no intention of shirk’n payment for any services rendered. I ain’t expect’n any man to make his mark in my life for pure satisfaction of do’n a just deed for a tender little filly. So don’t you worry none at all about your worldly treasures, you’ll be no less than well compensated for your talents and time. My word is my honor, secure as houses on stone.”

She gives Ruben a deliberate looking up and down, narrowing one eye with some finalizing scrutiny.

“And just one last thing….” She smiles. This act was unlike her prior effort, and could have been coveted as the most attractive gift in all of God’s grand creation. It was enough for a eunuch to feel the lure of. “Welcome back to the living, Mr. Luckshot.”

While her smile ran away, a short wave of her Colt turns Reuben’s attention toward the exit.

“Be sure to close the door on your way out.”

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Yay! Colt Clementine has herself a companion! You broadened Reuben's personality well. Even reminded me to add a little detail to Colt's appearance over the next few posts. Really excellent work there!

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Thank you so much! Flattery will get you everywhere ;3 I'm really glad you're enjoying it all.

Looking forward to seeing what Reuben has to say! :)

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Abigail had the bottle gripped snug to the contour of her crotch, keeping the Colt aimed steady and following the backward path of the man until he was seated. At that point she lowered the gun back down, resting it on her thigh once more, though the barrel didn't cease to be directed at him. She held her peace, allowing him to finish his delivery without word or even the slightest hint of emotional expression that might interfere with his flow of reasoning.

She was more than well aware there wasn't a real man alive who wouldn't have felt his pride bitten by the ordering around of a little girl, no less at all for his manhood being placed into jeopardy in such a manner. It must have truly been tearing him up inside. Nevertheless, she had succeeded in doing exactly what she had intended. The Mustang had been tamed... for the moment, at least. She was furthermore somewhat inclined to honor another aspect of his self-control, or be it more a principle thing. Most men would have used her rather accurate placing of the bottle as no less than a perfect excuse to keep their eyes wondering to that region of her anatomy. He, however, did not. In fact, he had done a relatively stringent job of keeping his eyes on hers for the most part of his introduction. Still, she wasn't fully certain that he'd stop thinking with his head and start thinking with his penis if given the opportunity, especially now that his life wasn't in any immediate danger.

A little time was taken in developing a cordial response, leaving the room in relative silence for a minute or so. The only sounds to be heard were the ongoing of folk down in the saloon, blended awkwardly with moaning of the whores in nearby rooms while Abigail, keeping her unaffected stare on Reuben's eyes, started rocking that bottle back and forth real slow against her crotch.

" Your name ain't no secret," She confided, her voice mellow as a priest in a confession box; "You're reputation has managed to make the acquaintance of my ears on more than just one occasion. I suspect that's no surprise to a man of your reputation, be what I heard about ya to be true, or otherwise."

Reuben was then graced with the smallest hint of a short-lived smile, accompanied by what could have be considered a playful wink as she stilled the rocking of the bottle between her legs. Her slender fingers then slipped from its neck, raising her hand real slow to the pocket of her shirt and produced a fold of paper.

"Names Abigail Kate Clementine." Removing her other hand from the gun, she carefully began unfolded the paper as if it were some delicate, ancient parchment, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on Reuben. “As Fred or… The Ear was so deliberate to enlighten me on, I have no doubt gained my own reputation through my behavior over the prior six months. Seems folk in some places have given to calling me Colt Clementine. For the time be’n, I ain’t none too certain how that particular title sits with me, henceforth I’d appreciate it if you referred to me as Kate.”

Someone fired their pistol down in the Saloon, followed by a great deal of commotion, and Abigail waited till the commotion had settle considerably before re-commencing her speech.

"Recently I had the opportunity in obtaining the services of a certain artist to draw out this particular depiction for me. I should warn you upfront to prepare your eyes, since the face on this parchment might just reach the standard of being the ugliest son’va bitch you've ever seen in your life."

With the paper between her finger and thumb, she holds out the portrait for Reuben to take a good looking over, ensuring he had a good eyeful before commencing her tale with a sinister lowering of her voice:

"This here is Jacob Manning, also known as Nightmare Manning and the reason for my presence here today.” She pauses for just long enough to watch carefully at Reuben, see if his response was one given to familiarity of the face in question. “Jacob and his gang of equally distasteful scum arrived at my family’s home up in Nevada for no apparent reason’n and hanged my two brothers from an oak tree in our yard. They then shot a hole in my daddies head bout the size of a grapefruit. The sight of his brain kiss’n the deck of our porch, it be an image I see most ever night in my dreams. Them boys, however, didn’t stop at that. They had both me and my mother captive, make'n me watch while they strangled the life from her. I can still recall the words them boys were talk’n - making jokes and such - say’n how they better get her while her body was still warm. Needless to tell ya, that’s exactly what they did, hump’n her good and long till her body turned cold, at which point they commenced to taking their efforts out on me….”

Abigail lowered the picture of Jacob, folding it neatly to be placed back in her pocket while she continued the story.

“…If I recall correctly, there was most like nine men take’n their turns with me, and as you may have already deciphered, they weren’t none too gentle about it either. I blacked out before they were done. Don’t know how long they continued in the absence of my mind, and I don’t rightly know how long it was before I came to again, but Jacob and his boys had already gone and fled by that point. All that remained for me to see from my position on the kitchen floor was the stone cold stare of my mother’s dead eyes gaze'n back at me.”

It was then that Colt Clementine removed the Colt from her leg and placed it on the bed beside her, no longer having the barrel pointed at Reuben. She took up the bottle and had herself a good long swallow of its contents before sitting up straighter, back rested against the wall.

“Now… you informed me not just five minutes ago that vengeance, as you put it, ain’t no good thing to be pursue’n. But I do believe you may have missed the part where there is always an exception to the rule. Did you not, Luckshot?”

Leaning forward, she extended the bottle for Reuben to take off her hands.

“There’s really only one question I need be answered at this point. I see there be some Amerind blood course’n through them veins of yours, so it has me wonder’n just how good ya might be at track’n. That point out of the way, I so too am wonder’n if it be in your tendencies to oblige this young lady on her quest for retribution?”

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

I know I probably don't need to to explain this to you, since the nature of RPing speaks for itself, but some RPers can get very sensitive about their character creations. So I just felt the need to make sure you don't let Abigail's current behavior reflect my own personal views of your character. I think Reuben is great! I also think you're doing a good job btw, I honestly couldn't have hoped for a better performance from anyone :D I just hope that I'm doing alright as well!

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

It was no shock at all this man’s advice revolved solely around his current ambitions in life, even less a surprise that - considering his current frame of mind - the circumstances surrounding his question conflicted a great deal with said advice. She of course didn’t answer his question, since it sounded more rhetorical than anything deserving of an answer.

“The amount of give’n times a cowboy, be him drunk or sober, had found it his duty to bestowed his less than sound wisdom on me is downright stagger’n, to say the least. Now, I can’t make up my mind if you’re just plain stupid or if maybe all that alcohol has numbed your sense of self preservation.”

Abigail hadn’t been expecting anything less than a defensive reaction from this man, in fact, that was the intention behind her scornful speech. There was really only one way to derive at the more honest intentions of any man, and that was to throw his own self-worth into question and see how he might react. It was just pure instinct to attempt upholding a substantial appearance, most especially in the company of a young and attractive lady. Normally, any attempt to preserve such dignity or needed sense of respect would have been displayed in some insulting retaliation before heading out the door, and yet this here particular individual was of the inclination to make himself at home instead.

His decision to remain in her room without even giving birth to the slightest insult of his own, had her mindfully questioning the steel of his constitution. Sure, his response was of a questionable nature, but it was apparent he intended no ill will. Yep, It could have been that he was just plain stupid or, perhaps, he didn’t care about preserving his own life at all, which was more than likely the case to be fair about it, but there was also the very slim possibility that he just couldn’t bring himself to feel threatened by a girl, despite the fact that the mouth of her cocked barrel was gaping right at him. She’d been underestimated before, usually before the one doing the underestimating lay all bloodied up on the floor.

She did, if only for the purpose of careful planning in the testing of this man’s steel, accept his offer for a drink.

She didn’t let her guard down. That would have been downright dumb as shit. Instead she presented the man with a positively grimacing look, letting him know he was crowding her space, and kept her Colt in position on her thigh while relieving him of the bottle with her other hand.

She didn’t take a swallow of the drink, however. She rather gripped the neck real tight and lowered the bottle real slow, pressing it snug into the crook of her crotch and finally raised that gun off her thigh – Swifter than a pony on lava she had the end of that pretty barrel pressed dead against his manhood. He would have no doubt felt that cold steel through the fabric of his trousers.

“Now why don’t you go ahead and take a seat in that chair over yonder," She gives a flick of her head to indicate the chair at the foot of her bed; “before I add myself an iron nugget to that sack of yours?”

Right now, Abigail’s tone of voice had more than mildly changed its demeanor. Any half whit standing between the East and West coast would have known to heed to the severity that had suddenly taken charge of her tone - See, unfortunately this cowboy still hadn’t managed to introduce himself, and that was annoying the hell out of her. Even more importantly, he had managed to overlook a very important detail of truth laid out before his very eyes. This ignorance alone was enough to make her wonder just when he would stop to ask himself the most obvious question of all: Why in all of hell would a young lady like herself be in possession of such a weapon, no less renting out a room in a saloon equally unfitting to her supposed status in society?

“When I say take a seat, I mean take a seat, or maybe you don’t mind lose'n your already fleet'n chance of cursing some poor kid by become’n their daddy. Once you’ve got yourself seated, why don’t you try and do the gentlemanly thing by introducing yourself. Heck, by do'n so you might even find a trace of respect you so obviously need from me right now - and maybe then we can find ourselves in a position to hold an enlightening conversation. Make no mistake, I'll sooner squeeze this trigger than lose the strength of keep'n this Colt held up."

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

It's a little weird, but it's also pretty awesome to be able to role play like this with people from around the world. And I agree that there isn't any rush. Feel free to take your time and reply at your leisure :)

That said, I managed to get my character sheet out as well as another IC! I've been waiting a long time to find a good partner to play a Western RP with, so I'm really enjoying this a lot! Can't wait to read your next post!

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Among many other God given gifts, Abigail had a keen eye for faces, making it immediately apparent that this particular gunslinger wasn’t any of the fools she’d seen downstairs not a half hour prior. That of course didn’t make him any less of a fool, since it was also apparent by the drunken lust in his eyes and his opening words that he definitely hadn’t come calling on account Abigail’s intended purpose.

It didn’t take her long to have him figured out. The bronzed tone of his skin, them beaded hints of his attire, made it perfectly certain there was some variety of native swimming around in that blood of his, and judging by his unkempt presentation and the bottle he had gripped tighter that a stolen purse full of gold - combined with them low riding guns on his belt - he had all too many reason to be drowning his principles in alcohol and harlots. Washed up old men like him were a dime a dozen in a place like this.

A smooth lowering of her brow let him know of his flagrant imposition, and she already had that hammer cocked before he finished spluttering out his initial dismay upon entering her room, though at this point she felt no need to raise her cannon from her thigh. To be perfectly straight about it, she wasn’t at all jumpy or perturbed by his mistaken choice of doors to enter, it was more of an intrigue that he still had the capacity to keep standing on his own two feet.

“It’s generally customary for a gentleman to introduce himself upon entering the room of a lady. But I see first up you ain’t no gentleman. Had you not been slop'n around in the unholiest of holes when I arrived, you might have had the honor of know'n just who I am and what my purpose is here - And I can tell ya right now; what I’m do’n here ain’t got an iota of similarity to what you have plague'n your mind.”

Now, Abigail had way with the misleading sweet pleasantries of her voice, and it wasn’t uncommon to captivate folk with her spoken demeanor. It therefore wouldn’t have been at all surprising had Reuben not found himself a decent reply at this point. She gave two taps of her trigger finger against the guard of her gun, in the case he wasn’t already aware of the pretty, hand engraved barrel pointed directly at his head.

“There’s no question about it; I ain’t the whore you’d been expecting to find, Chief. Apparent you’ve gone ahead and gotten yourself lost. Maybe your undignified state of mind got you all confused between your left and right.” She slipped her slender finger gently over the trigger itself and prepared a good squeeze, yet she still hadn’t raised that gun from her thigh. “And I know what you be think’n, that this fresh piece of meat before you is a whole lot more please'n on the eyes than that penny grip'n whore you left idle in some other room – but don’t you go getting any ideas about mounting this young filly. …Way I see it, right now you got a choice as to just how much of a mistake you’ve made by walk’n in here. I’m hereby give’n you a choice, old man; back on out of this room real slow like, keep’n your hands off them six-guns of yours, or perhaps I’ll be so inclined to splatter them drunken brains all over that wall behind ya.”

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

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Colt Clementine

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Name: Abigail Kate Clementine

Age: She rarely tells a soul.

Height: 5' 5"

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Something to see

Shoulder length, wild chestnut hair with bright field-green eyes, button nose, full lips, and the smoothest skin any side of Kentucky. She wears soft sheep-skin trousers, Beige button-up long sleeve shirt, grey knee length spur boots, brown wide brim hat that seems to dwarf her petite structure, and a full length, Brown weathered coat.

Guns and Such

Hanging form her belt is a ivory grip, Colt 1851 Navy Revolver, hand engraved by her very own daddy. There’s been some who scoff that this weapon is far too much gun for a girl her size, but Abigail just so happens to have enough strength to lift that cannon single handed and hold it steady long enough to squeeze the trigger. To be perfectly honest, she ain’t missed a target yet, intended or otherwise.

Other than the Colt, and hiding somewhere on her person, is a Baby-Philadelphia derringer pistol for them more sneaky operations, while sheathed to the rear of her gunbelt is a west-cut hunting bowie knife.

Other views to consider

It could be justly determined that Abigail’s mouth is her greatest strength of all. Normally she wasn’t actually real big on talking unless a given situation called for it, but there wouldn’t be none too few occasions where the soft rasp of her voice and well placed words had proven to subdue her opponent, and even set the hardest of men off-guard. In the words of Crazy Stockwell Wilson, an outlaw Abigail spared the life of for the sake of nothing more than being kind; “If you’re ever one to be in a situation where little Miss Clementine finds the need to rattle off a whole bunch of words at ya, then it might just be, and unbeknownst to yourself, that your life is coming close to been spent.”

A tale to tell

Abigail Kate grew up with two brothers and her parents on a homestead in West Nevada. She was more or less an average child until the night of her quickening, when a certain outlaw and his gang of misfits invaded her home, shot her daddy in the head, hanged her brothers, raped her mother dead, and then took turns with Abby to an inch of her life. From that very day on it would be wise to note, Abigail Kat Clementine won’t let her soul rest until that contemptible, low-down scum of the earth outlaw and his band of misfits meet the wrath of her self-appointed retribution.

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Hahaha. Thanks so much! I'm glad you like it :)

You've done an awesome job of setting yourself up as well; I'm already loving Reuben. I'll be working on my next post through the day, between rl stuff and whatnot. Might even find me some time to get a character sheet out by the end of the day. I'm really having fun with this!