835 replies to this topic

[Katia11]

this is not helpful, Mara. lol. there is literally zero difference for me. 

[Mara=^.^=]

Well then, inflate my ego by posting it here first, and copying it to A03 later (I'm several chapters behind there). I like being able to converse with you directly on the forums, but I feel like boosting my review count on A03 might attract new readers. 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

DONE! just so you are warned, my reviews tend to be long enough that i sometimes have to break them up into more than one on a03! 

[Mara=^.^=]

DONE! just so you are warned, my reviews tend to be long enough that i sometimes have to break them up into more than one on a03!

 

There's a character limit on comments? Huh...

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

There is. It’s quite a lot tbh but still… It is extremely annoying.

[Katia11]

also? I totally forgot to mention: sharing something like a cigar (as it was in this case) or drink is always one of my very favorite tropes.

[Mara=^.^=]

also? I totally forgot to mention: sharing something like a cigar (as it was in this case) or drink is always one of my very favorite tropes.

 

I love it too. My brain is like "smoking is bad", but my heart is like "smoking is SEXY". Then my gallbladder says, "actually, you can use the patriarchal symbolism of the cigar to subvert Tex's expectations and communicate a message of equality and inclusion". 

My gallbladder does all my writing for me.
 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

That is very specific lol

[Mara=^.^=]

Uuggghhhh now we're back in the situation where the next chapter is impossible. WHY IS THIS SO DIFFICULT

 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

I’m sorry. I’m rootin’ for ya!!! And of course, if ya need anything at all, just holler!

[TheKingInTheNorth]

It's been a while since I've read this, but I finally got caught up on the last 3 chapters!

 

The relationship between Tex & Mr. Neutron continues to be amazing. You've written both characters insanely well - they feel familiar, based on their counterparts from the show, but you've also made them very much their own characters. And most importantly, they feel like REAL PEOPLE, with their own strengths and flaws. The setting sun on the cross, and Tex's reaction to it, was beautiful, and I loved the moment where she decided she can't kill Neutron. You're right - so often, moments like that come across as shallow and cheap, but here, it's 100% earned, as we've seen their views on each other develop over many chapters. I also like that it's not a one-sided development - they're both learning from each other.

 

I really enjoyed seeing Libby's POV as well, and I think it worked great for that part of the story. You really nailed her personality - how she cuts through both Tex & Neutron's bullshit, calls it like she sees it, and always gets right to the point. It was nice to see her & Tex's friendship develop more.

I also just liked seeing the town as a whole get fleshed out, with all the side characters, especially bringing Sally in. Carl standing up to Bitch- er, I mean, Butch, when he was being misogynistic was probably my favourite part. Also, everyone teasing Jimmy with the innuendos cracked me up.   Oh, and I liked the reference to Carl's scapula.

 

Anyway, yeah, great job with this! Your writing, as always, is fantastic.

[Mara=^.^=]

Oh, and I liked the reference to Carl's scapula.

 

Been waiting forever to make that joke. Thanks for the review 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Mara=^.^=]

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

Mara!!!!!! This is so freaking cool!!!!! You are killing me!

[Mara=^.^=]

I hath cleft the chapter in twain. Now the unfixable portion is a problem for future me! 

 

**************************************************************************

 

It was the day that never, ever ended.

 

By the time the chip-fires were kindled and the impromptu dance floor was swept clean of debris, Tex was punch-drunk with fatigue. Two cups of coffee kept her going, but the brew could not restore her waning mental faculties. Cacophony besieged her – there was booze, and gossip, and flirtation, and the memory of things she'd left unsaid. She drifted from conversation to conversation, trying to act human, while the night grew strange around her.

 

It started with the music. Libby stopped to take a breather, and Wendell strolled onto the grassy stage, holding the most extraordinary violin that Tex had ever seen. It was silver, with a beauty that bordered on malevolence. From the moment he began, she could sense the mismatch between artist and instrument; the violin had a keening, eerie sound, but he played jaunty, upbeat melodies. The discordant notes cartwheeled through the crowd like jeering acrobats, suffusing everything and everyone with a touch of the uncanny. Tex began to wonder which smiles were real, and which were painted on.

 

Someone tapped her shoulder.

 

"Excuse me, Miss Vortex. Might I have the honor of claiming your first dance?"

 

Tex turned to find Ike standing there, holding his hat in his hands.

 

Crap, she thought.

 

It would be rude to brush him off. He seemed like a hard-working, judicious sort of man, and he was paying her a compliment by singling her out; moreover, he was the Sheriff's friend. All the same, Tex did not want to dance with him. She consulted her roster of excuses.

 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wilderman," she said, mustering up her most apologetic tone, "but I'm feeling out of sorts at present. I was just about to go for a walk."

 

"Would you be amenable to company? Or would you prefer the balm of solitary thought?"

 

"The latter," she replied. "I appreciate your perceptiveness, and your understanding."

 

The blacksmith bowed, nodded politely to the group beside her, and took his leave. Tex stuffed her hands into her pockets and embarked on her mandatory excursion.

Damn violin, she grumbled to herself.

 

She was waylaid yet again at the edge of the gathering. This time, Bolbi approached her. He extended a hand – it was wrapped in so many layers of bandages that it resembled a crayfish claw. He blinked one eye, then the other, and smiled.

 

"Oh hell no," she exclaimed, and hastened on into the darkness.

 

The sounds of the party receded, but the surreal atmosphere could not be shaken off so easily. Beyond the glow of the fires, the moon reigned, and everything was silver. The cold light played tricks with the senses, distorting the landscape into a cratered otherworld. Each time the moon disappeared behind a cloud, the terrain became treacherous, and Tex could not shake the sense that she was walking through a dream, where circus freaks and lunar faeries capered arm in arm, selling confusion and epiphany like trinkets. She could not buy one without the other.

 

I cannot kill him, she reflected. Then, in a nonsensical moment of caprice: I miss him.

 

Was it insanity, or insight? Only one thing was certain. Tex was in an untenable position – one she'd inflicted on herself. She could not carry out her client's mission, which meant that someone else would. By hook or by crook, Strych would persist until he got what he wanted. How was she supposed to protect the Sheriff from one the most powerful men in the country – a man with near limitless resources?

 

A fey voice whispered in her ear. You know how. Kill Rail Baron Strych.

 

It was an alluring, but unproductive answer. Murdering a plutocrat was not a scheme to be undertaken lightly. Tex specialized in disappearances, which required private access to the victim, and time afterward to dispose of all the evidence. It was a method tailor-made for the frontier. It would not serve her here. When members of the ruling class went missing, massive manhunts followed in short order.

 

Other plots had pitfalls of their own, and mistakes of any kind were likely to prove fatal. Was she willing to risk it all to save a man who would never thank her for it? To safeguard a town full of people she barely knew?

 

Libby, she thought.

 

The outlaw clenched her jaw. There had to be something she could do to allay the coming storm, but what?

 

Trade with us, and get an answer, the faeries beckoned. Give us your smile. Your name. The color of your eyes. Give us yesterday.

 

Tex tried to focus, but clarity was fleeting.

 

What I really need is a patsy, she thought. Someone I can frame for Strych's death.

 

Her reasoning was simple. Wealthy families bent the world to suit their whims; if Tex could supply them with a culprit, they would move heaven and earth to see that person punished. The investigation would become a rubber stamp.

 

There was only one problem: she didn't know enough about Eustace to select a viable scapegoat. Frustration churned in her gut.

 

You can't fix this tonight, she told herself. Stop spinning your wheels, and go back to the party.

 

The moon was sad to see her go. Reluctantly, she returned to the canopies and tables. The area was mostly deserted, except for Amber, who was doling out café noir. She remained mercifully silent as Tex paced back and forth, trying to lasso her galloping thoughts. It wasn't easy – the violin was louder here, and it had a puckish silver tongue.

 

Poison, it urged. Strychnine. Life's a joke, so end his with a pun.

 

Don't lose him, never lose him. The acrobats tumbled. Do anything, kill anyone, to Save him Save him Save him.

 

Was it humor, or delirium? Care, or obsession? Something profound had shaken loose, and now it was rattling around inside her, looking for an outlet. The night spun.

 

"Hey. Tex." A human voice – the first in eons. It sounded distant. "Tex? Yoohoo. Anybody home?"

 

The gunslinger snapped out of it. Sally was standing next to her, waving a hand in front of her face. Steam rose from her coffee cup.

 

Tex shuddered violently. "I swear to God, Sally…I think I'm losing my marbles."

 

"You and me both, sister," toasted the rancher. "This is my third batch of jitter juice. I can see clear across to Mexico, and the nightlife looks grand."

 

"Two cups for me," informed Tex. "I'm plotting a murder."

 

"Ooh, good call. Maybe that's what I'll do next."

 

"Please don't," deadpanned Amber.

 

Sally gestured at the outlaw's holster. "Mmm," she sipped, "while I've got you here, I've been meanin' to inquire. That revolver you carry – the one with the green handle – I've never seen its equal. Where'd you come by such a weapon? I feel like I've heard tales about it…somewhere."

 

"I sincerely doubt that," replied Tex, too quickly.

 

"No, no, I'm resolute. It was in the papers, I think. A long time back. Amber, honey…help me out here."

 

Amber's eyes took on a far-off look. "Front page of the San Antonio Express," she provided. "Their second issue. Headline: The Deadliest Six-Shooter in Texas. Seamus O'Healy Strikes Again. The article detailed his killing spree and included the picture that made his weapon famous."

 

"Y'see?" exulted Sally. "I knew I kept you around for a reason."

 

Tex's mouth went dry. It was an exceptional feat of memory – so exceptional that it might just betray the role she'd played in the O'Healy gang's destruction. She quickly fabricated an explanation.

 

"I nicked it off an outlaw I brought in," she shrugged. "Couldn't get the full reward, so I took my payment elsewhere."

 

"You think he got it from Seamus? The ol' hothead died in a duel, as I recall."

 

Amber interjected. "That's correct. Legend has it that, following his death, the Emerald Ire became the calling card of someone even worse. I wrote a poem about it."

 

A poem?

 

Tex patted the handle. "It's a pretty piece of craftsmanship," she stated nonchalantly. "Valuable, certainly. It's probably changed hands more than once."

 

"Huh." The roughrider drained her mug. "Well, I'd love to hear more scuttlebutt from your bounty huntin' days, but I've got a date with the dance floor. You comin', Amber, or are you gonna marry the coffee pot?"

 

"I'm coming."

 

"See you round!" saluted Sally.

 

The two women headed off together, and Tex went slack with relief. Infamy certainly had its drawbacks.

 

So did coffee.

 

With a demoralized sigh, Tex traipsed the short distance to the cabin, where the world's sketchiest outhouse waited for her. Bolbi's erstwhile prison was not the sort of place one set foot in voluntarily. Insects buzzed around it, and the lantern revealed a sardonic message scrawled beside the hinges. It read: ABANDON HOPE, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE.

 

Oh, great, she thought. There's a line.

 

The pinch-faced biddy from church was just ahead of her, so Tex hung back, keeping to the shadows. She reclined against the cabin's outer wall and started counting bugs. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. Moth, katydid, beetle. She yawned, and then the very last person she wanted to see came stumbling around the corner, and they nearly collided.

 

"Goodness me!" exclaimed Britney. "I didn't see you there! Sorry about that."

 

Tex cringed as bosoms and garters staged a burlesque show in her brain, but she managed to quell the urge to shrink away. A moment later, the line moved; the biddy entered the outhouse, and Britney joined Tex up against the wall. The awkwardness grated like nails on a chalkboard.

 

"Sorry you had to see that, earlier – with Nick," she began. "I just can't keep my hands off that man."

 

"Yes. Clearly."

 

"He's handsome, right?" she said cheerfully. "But that ain't all – compadre has the goods. You ain't been with a man 'til you been with that one."

 

Tex blinked in surprise. "Okay?"

 

I did not need to know that.

 

Tex turned away and pretended to look at something on the ground. Britney didn't get the message.

 

"Nick and I were just talkin' about what a great job you did out there today," she shared.

 

"Huh?"

 

"With the menfolk? You really held your own. I was rootin' for you the whole time, you know."

 

"Oh. Thanks."

 

Britney pointed to the outlaw's neck. "Say, that's a real nice bandana you got there! It's so bright, it really brings out your eyes."

 

Does it, now? I like to wear it when I'm burying bodies.

 

"I like your…" Tex groped for something to say. "Bracelet?"

 

"Oh, this?" She jingled it around. "It's nothin'. Nick gave it to me last year as an antiversary gift."

 

"Anti…versary?"

 

"A little joke between us. A way to celebrate our commitment to stayin' noncommittal."

 

"You mean…the two of you aren't, you know…" Tex touched her fingertips together.

 

Britney laughed. "A couple? Naaaah." She pulled a flask from her bustier, popped the lid, and took a swig. "My freedom's too important to me." She swirled the liquid round, and after another hearty sip, she looked up at the sky and smiled faintly. "See, Nick ain't like most men. He makes no demands of me. He never gets jealous, never tries to keep me for himself. I don't judge him for his rovin' eye, and he don't judge me for mine. It's why we get along so well."

 

"I guess I can see the appeal of that arrangement," the outlaw lied.

 

"There ain't nothin' worse than a controlling man," Britney scowled, pounding a fist into her palm. "I don't care who they are – family, friend, lover. It's all the same." She took an angry swig, then dragged her sleeve across her mouth. "They'll try to kill you before they'll let you go."

 

Tex studied her with renewed interest. Here was a woman with a story. "How'd you wind up in Retro Valley?" she asked.

 

"How does anyone?" she shrugged. "Runnin' toward somethin', or from somethin'. Lost souls, outcasts, geniuses. If you like the weirdness, you stick around."

 

"And you like it here?"

 

The darkness faded from her face, and her chipper demeanor returned. "I love it. Miss Folfax is a great boss. I don't care what color skin she's got; she is the sharpest piece o' calico in the whole damn town. She pays well and treats everybody fair. What more could a girl like me ask for?"

 

"What more, indeed."

 

The conversation petered out, and Tex stood there quietly while Britney hummed to herself and played with the hem of her skirt. Despite her natural inclination to disengage, the outlaw couldn't help but notice: out here in the darkness, this flouncy, inebriated girl looked so…vulnerable.

 

"Hey Britney?" she ventured.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"If the past ever comes knocking, and you find yourself in trouble, you come and find me, understand?" She tapped the Emerald Ire. "I'll take care of the problem for you."

 

Britney goggled at her, then broke out giggling. "Oh, goodness me," she snorted. "You are a spitfire, ain't ya? That's fantastic. No wonder the boss likes you so much."

 

Tex looked away. "I'm serious."

 

"Ah, well," said Britney. "My 'problem' is deader than a doornail, praise the Lord, but if I find someone else worth killin', you'll be the first to hear about it. Sound good?"

 

"Sounds good."

 

Britney took a tiny nip from her flask, hiccuped once, then shot Tex a conspiratorial glance. "Say, Miss Lawman. Who's your Nick?"

 

"I beg your pardon?"

 

Britney leaned close, bright-eyed and slightly manic. "I'm talkin' about men, obviously," she whispered. Tex could smell the liquor on her breath. "What's your type? You can't be out there killin' all of 'em, can you? I mean, when the sun goes down, someone's gotta ring your bell."

 

"That's…a colorful way of putting it."

 

"So? Don't you know the answer?"

 

Tex fell silent. Despite her best efforts, she'd never been able to kill the part of herself that wanted companionship, but it had been a long, long time since she'd seriously considered finding herself a partner. The men who existed in her world were a tempting risk at best, and an existential threat at worst. The kind of man worth having – the kind who would care enough to treat her like a person – would never settle for a woman like her. She had bathed in the blood of the river Styx, and it had left her too willful, too talented, and too cruel.

 

And yet, her wishful thinking prompted.

 

I want a man who can keep me on my toes, she thought. Intelligent, and motivated. Someone who's not afraid of my profession.

 

She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. All of those things were true, but they weren't the crux of it.

 

"Desire is not enough for me," admitted Tex. "Physical attraction is a temperamental thing. Any man can want me. What I'm looking for is a man who needs me. To him, I should be irreplaceable." She turned to Britney. "God. That sounds pathetic, doesn't it?"

 

"What? What's pathetic about that?" challenged Britney. "Everyone deserves to feel needed."

 

Why in the hell am I even having this conversation? she wondered, but her traitorous mouth kept talking.

 

"Nobody's ever needed me," she prattled on, like an idiot. "And why on earth would they? I destroy everything I touch, like a plague, or…or dynamite."

 

Britney grabbed Tex's hands and held them in her own. "No. Now, you listen to me: you are the most" – and here she almost tipped over – "most glorgeousss thing this side of Dolan Falls. You're ten foot tall an' bulletproof. Y'hear me? Say it!"

 

"I'm ten feet tall and bulletproof," repeated Tex.

 

"That's right." She squeezed her hand. "Now go out there and live it. Grab the one you want, or ditch the one you don't. Ignore the rules, and the naysayers, and do whatever makes you happy. Go on! Hurry!" Britney slapped her on the back, and for some absurd reason, this lit a fire under Tex.

 

Possessed by the demon of feminine camaraderie, the outlaw confidently marched away – without using the facilities. She was halfway to the dance floor before she realized what she was doing. She halted mid-step and attempted to recalculate, but by then it was too late. The predators had spotted her.

 

"Miss Lawman!" called Elke, waving from the crowd. She had one arm hooked around Ignishka; both their cheeks were rosy from exertion. "Won't you come and dance with us?"

 

Tex's eyes darted, looking for an exit, but she found none. Sighing in defeat, she dutifully shuffled over, cursing herself, Britney, Elke, Wendell, and anyone else within spitting distance. As she neared the women, Ignishka leaned over and whispered something foreign-sounding in Elke's ear, causing both of them to giggle.

 

"Elke, you speak her language?" asked Tex, surprised.

 

"What? Oh, no, no! Ignishka, she speaks Swedish, and other languages, too. Before she came to this country, she lived in many places." Ignishka murmured something else, and Elke translated for her. "She says thank you for punching Butch on Saturday. When she saw it through the window, it made her laugh."

 

Tex saw an opportunity to get some intel for the Sheriff. "Can you ask her how she learned to set a broken leg?"

 

More babbling. "She says she went to university."

 

"What? They let women be doctors where she comes from?"

 

"No," said Elke, listening attentively. "Her brother didn't want to be a doctor, but the family would not accept his wish. So Bolbi let her…I do not know the word. Efterlikna?" She frowned. "They are twins, so she dresses like him, and learns to be a doctor in his place."

 

"She impersonated her brother to learn medicine?"

 

"Yes! That's it. Bolbi instead joined a troupe of actors, but then he got in trouble, and they had to run away." Elke shook her head sadly. "Ignishka did not say this part, but I believe they have many debts, and he would be in great danger if anyone found them here. You cannot swindle people without risking your own life."

 

Layers upon layers, thought Tex. The wonders never cease.

 

"So," smiled Elke, because this was just another Wednesday for her, "will you dance with us now? When the Caller is done with her break, we're going to do the Varsouvienne."

 

Tex tried to get out of it. "I don't know…I'm a decade out of date when it comes to dancing trends."

 

"That's not a problem – Libby can share with you anything you don't remember." She glanced around. "Where is she, anyway? Libby? Libby!"

 

Elke scoured the crowd, but it was Tex who spotted the barkeep. She was standing on the fringes of the celebration, staring out into the desert. Her hands were clutched to her chest, and there was something in her pose that spoke to longing, and to pain.

 

"Uh-oh," said Tex. "Stay here."

 

**************************************************************************

 

Tex is having a normal one, ladies and gents

 

I just want to say that "drunk girl in the bathroom with whom you have a surprisingly deep conversation" is one of my very favorite genres of person, and I am convinced that this archetype has existed for as long as humans have been drinking alcohol.
 

HISTORICAL SHIT AND BULLSHIT SHIT
 

- Silver-toned aluminum violins were manufactured in the late 19th and early 20th centuries â€“ their resiliency and low cost made them easier to care for than wood and cheaper to manufacture, especially in wartime. The first American patent for an aluminum violin was issued in 1891 to Alfred Springer, but I was able to find sources alleging earlier production dates. Aluminum violins sound different than wooden ones because the two materials vibrate differently. I find them to be uncanny and off-putting; many musicians agreed, which is why their audience always remained fairly niche. You can judge for yourself by watching this video.

- Strychnine, a toxic alkaloid, was discovered in 1818 by the French chemists Joseph Bienaimé Caventou and Pierre-Joseph Pelletier. Effective as a pesticide, murderers were quick to see its utility as well. In 1855, the English doctor William Palmer – AKA the Prince of Poisoners – became infamous after he used Strychnine to kill his friend John Cook. He also killed a bunch of his own family members, including his wife, brother, and four of his children, but he never stood trial for those crimes. Palmer made large sums of money by collecting on his victims' life insurance policies, all of which he lost by gambling on horses. Charles Dickens called Palmer "the greatest villain that ever stood in the Old Bailey". He was executed by hanging in 1865; as he stepped onto the gallows, Palmer is said to have looked at the trapdoor and exclaimed, "Are you sure it's safe?"
- Literary references: In Dante's Inferno (a 14th-century Christian fanfic), Hell is conceptualized as nine concentric circles of torment. The gate leading to the first ring is said to bear the following inscription: lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intraten. In English: abandon hope, all ye who enter here. During college, I scrawled these words on a nasty port-o-potty door, just to be a wiseass.

 

Vocab:
* Chip-fires - fires fueled by cow, horse, or buffalo dung
* Scuttlebutt - gossip
* Piece of calico - woman
* Dolan Falls - a waterfall near Del Rio, Texas
* Caller - the person who prompts figure changes in line dance, square dance, and contra dance

 

 

 

NEXT PART -> Malfeasance of All Types

[Katia11]

*heavy breathing like gollum*

MY PRECCIOUSSS.

LET'S DO THIS THING.

"It was the day that never, ever ended." Oh, I feel THAT. Those days are the WORST.

�Cacophony besieged her � there was booze, and gossip, and flirtation, and the memory of things she�d left unsaid. She drifted from conversation to conversation, trying to act human, while the night grew strange around her. It started with the music. Libby stopped to take a breather, and Wendell strolled onto the grassy stage, holding the most extraordinary violin that Tex had ever seen. It was silver, with a beauty that bordered on malevolence. From the moment he began, she could sense the mismatch between artist and instrument; the violin had a keening, eerie sound, but he played jaunty, upbeat melodies. The discordant notes cartwheeled through the crowd like jeering acrobats, suffusing everything and everyone with a touch of the uncanny. Tex began to wonder which smiles were real, and which were painted on.� THIS ENTIRE SECTION, MARA. IS JUST SO EEIE AND YET GORGEOUS. Haunting and strange. That violin?! I would like to touch it, please. And that last sentence there about smiles being real or painted on??!??! HELLO! So good.

�I�m sorry, Mr. Wilderman,� she said, mustering up her most apologetic tone, �but I�m feeling out of sorts at present. I was just about to go for a walk.� �Would you be amenable to company? Or would you prefer the balm of solitary thought?� �The latter,� she replied. �I appreciate your perceptiveness, and your understanding.� The blacksmith bowed, nodded politely to the group beside her, and took his leave. Tex stuffed her hands into her pockets and embarked on her mandatory excursion.� I think I like Ike. You painted him as interested, but gentlemanly! It was a very good balance.

�Damn violin, she grumbled to herself.� Those violins can work magic, both good and ill.

�Oh hell no,� she exclaimed, and hastened on into the darkness.� I feel THAT, girl.

�The sounds of the party receded, but the surreal atmosphere could not be shaken off so easily. Beyond the glow of the fires, the moon reigned, and everything was silver. The cold light played tricks with the senses, distorting the landscape into a cratered otherworld. Each time the moon disappeared behind a cloud, the terrain became treacherous, and Tex could not shake the sense that she was walking through a dream, where circus freaks and lunar faeries capered arm in arm, selling confusion and epiphany like trinkets. She could not buy one without the other. I cannot kill him, she reflected. Then, in a nonsensical moment of caprice: I miss him.� SHUT UP. SHUT UP RIGHT NOW. SEE. YOU CAN WRITE. DAMN IT. THIS TOOK MY BREATH AWAY. GOOD LORD. STOLE IT RIGHT FROM MY CHEST- GRABBED IT AND HELD TIGHT. Everything about this is beautiful and magical, but in a sort of claustrophobic way that just SINGS.

�A fey voice whispered in her ear. You know how. Kill Rail Baron Strych. It was an alluring, but unproductive answer. Murdering a plutocrat was not a scheme to be undertaken lightly. Tex specialized in disappearances, which required private access to the victim, and time afterward to dispose of all the evidence. It was a method tailor-made for the frontier. It would not serve her here. When members of the ruling class went missing, massive manhunts followed.� Yeah, that�s a very very good point.

�Libby, she thought.� Aww. My little heart warmed a bit.

�Trade with us, and get an answer, the faeries beckoned. Give us your smile. Your name. The color of your eyes. Give us yesterday.� This is so friggin� creepy, and I love it. Never make deals with imaginary voices. Not generally a good idea.

�What I really need is a patsy, she thought. Someone I can frame for Strych�s death.� MAY I OFFER BUTCH?

�Poison, it urged. Strychnine. Life�s a joke, so end his with a pun. Don�t lose him, never lose him. The acrobats tumbled. Do anything, kill anyone, to Save him Save him Save him. Was it humor, or delirium? Care, or obsession? Something profound had shaken loose, and now it was rattling around inside her, looking for an outlet. The night spun.� MARA. MARA. *SHAKES YOU* EFF.

�Tex shuddered violently. �I swear to God, Sally�I think I�m losing my marbles.� yeahhh� you might be right, Tex.

�Two cups for me,� informed Tex. �I�m plotting a murder.� �Ooh, good call. Maybe that�s what I�ll do next.� �Please don�t,� deadpanned Amber.� This conversation is just so matter-of-fact- but the thing is, Tex is SERIOUS. She is actually plotting to murder someone.

 

�Amber�s eyes took on a far-off look. �Front page of the San Antonio Express,� she provided. �Their second issue. Headline: The Deadliest Six-Shooter in Texas. Seamus O�Healy Strikes Again. The article detailed his killing spree and included the picture that made his weapon famous.� DAMN. That is one killer memory.

�Amber interjected. �That�s correct. Legend has it that, following his death, the Emerald Ire became the calling card of someone even worse. I wrote a poem about it.� A poem?� I sort of want to read this poem now. I can almost feel the fear drifting off Tex here.

�The two women headed off together, and Tex went slack with relief. Infamy certainly had its drawbacks.� Yeah, it certainly seems to!

�It read: ABANDON HOPE, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE.� PFFT.

�Sorry you had to see that, earlier � with Nick,� she began. �I just can�t keep my hands off that man.� �Yes. Clearly.� "He�s handsome, right?� she said cheerfully. �But that ain�t all � compadre has the goods. You ain�t been with a man �til you been with that one.� Tex blinked in surprise. �Okay?� I did not need to know that.� LOL

�With the menfolk? You really held your own. I was rootin� for you the whole time, you know.� I was ALSO rooting for her the entire time.

�Oh. Thanks.� Britney pointed to the outlaw�s neck. �Say, that�s a real nice bandana you got there! It�s so bright, it really brings out your eyes.� Does it, now? I like to wear it when I�m burying bodies. �I like your�� Tex groped for something to say. �Bracelet?� �Oh, this?� She jingled it around. �It�s nothin�. Nick gave it to me last year as an antiversary gift.� the strange almost awkwardly stilted conversation while Tex tries to reciprocate�the morbid detail of her ruminating on how she wears that bandana while she buries bodies. Good stuff!

�Britney laughed. �A couple? Naaaah. � She pulled a flask from her bustier, popped the lid, and took a swig. �My freedom�s too important to me.� She swirled the liquid round, and after another hearty sip, she looked up at the sky and smiled faintly. �See, Nick ain�t like most men. He makes no demands of me. He never gets jealous, never tries to keep me for himself. I don�t judge him for his rovin� eye, and he don�t judge me for mine. It�s why we get along so well.� �I guess I can see the appeal of that arrangement,� the outlaw lied. �There ain�t nothin� worse than a controlling man,� Britney scowled, pounding a fist into her palm. �I don�t care who they are � family, friend, lover. It�s all the same.� She took an angry swig, then dragged her sleeve across her mouth. �They�ll try to kill you before they�ll let you go.� OOF. this made my heart sad. I think this poor girl has had some VERY bad experiences in her life.

�How does anyone?� she shrugged. �Runnin� toward somethin�, or from somethin�. Lost souls, outcasts, geniuses. If you like the weirdness, you stick around.� I really, really liked this. It was both sad and yet somehow hopeful? That might not be the right word, but it�s the one I�ve got.

�Yeah?� �If the past ever comes knocking, and you find yourself in trouble, you come and find me, understand?� She tapped the Emerald Ire. �I�ll take care of the problem for you.� Britney goggled at her, then broke out giggling. �Oh, goodness me,� she snorted. �You are a spitfire, ain�t ya? That�s fantastic. No wonder the boss likes you so much.� Tex looked away. �I�m serious.� �Ah, well,� said Britney. �My �problem� is deader than a doornail, praise the Lord, but if I find someone else worth killin�, you�ll be the first to hear about it. Sound good?� �Sounds good.� Always a good sign when you�ve got someone literally willing to shoot all your problems. But seriously, this is actually very sweet.

�Britney leaned close, bright-eyed and slightly manic. �I'm talkin� about men, obviously,� she whispered. Tex could smell the liquor on her breath. �What�s your type? You can�t be out there killin� all of �em, can you? I mean, when the sun goes down, someone �s gotta ring your bell.� OOOOOHH??!?!

�Despite her best efforts, she�d never been able to kill the part of herself that wanted companionship, but it had been a long, long time since she�d seriously considered finding herself a partner. The men who existed in her world were a tempting risk at best, and existential threat at worst. The kind of man worth having � the kind who would care enough to treat her like a person � would never settle for a woman like her. She had bathed in the blood of the river Styx, and it had left her too willful, too talented, and too cruel. And yet, her wishful thinking prompted. I want a man who can keep me on my toes, she thought. Intelligent, and motivated. Someone who�s not afraid of my profession. She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. All of those things were true, but they weren�t the crux of it. �Desire is not enough for me,� admitted Tex. �Physical attraction is a temperamental thing. Any man can want me. What I�m looking for is a man who needs me. To him, I should be irreplaceable.� She turned to Britney. �God. That sounds pathetic, doesn�t it?� �What? What�s pathetic about that?� challenged Britney. �Everyone deserves to feel needed.� JESUS. Mara. This was heartbreaking and SO GOOD. The simplicity of what she wants verses WHY she wants it. IS JuST. MMM. TASTY.

�Nobody�s ever needed me,� she prattled on, like an idiot. �And why on earth would they? I destroy everything I touch, like a plague, or�or dynamite.� Oh, Tex. My heart.

�Britney grabbed Tex�s hands and held them in her own. �No. Now, you listen to me: you are the most� � and here she almost tipped over � �most glorgeousss thing this side of Dolan Falls. You�re ten foot tall an� bulletproof. Y�hear me? Say it!� �I�m ten feet tall and bulletproof,� repeated Tex. �That�s right.� She squeezed her hand. �Now go out there and live it. Grab the one you want, or ditch the one you don�t. Ignore the rules, and the naysayers � do whatever makes you happy. Go on! Hurry!� YOU TELL HER.

�Tex saw an opportunity to get some intel for the Sheriff. �Can you ask her how she learned to set a broken leg?� More babbling. �She says she went to university.� �What? They let women be doctors where she comes from?� �No,� said Elke, listening attentively. �Her brother didn't want to be a doctor, but the family would not accept his wish. So Bolbi let her�I do not know the word. Efterlikna?� She frowned. �They are twins, so she dresses like him, and learns to be a doctor in his place.� �She impersonated her brother to learn medicine?� FASCINATING.

�Layers upon layers, thought Tex. The wonders never cease.� It seems they don�t.

�She was standing on the fringes of the celebration, staring out into the desert. Her hands were clutched to her chest, and there was something in her pose that spoke to longing, and to pain. �Uh-oh,� said Tex. �Stay here.� Uh-oh!!!

Ok. Now question is, how will I review this chapter when you post it? Hm� I guess that is also a problem for future ME

[Mara=^.^=]

I think I like Ike.

 

 

I sort of want to read this poem now.

 

Me too. Someone write it for me.

 

OOOOOHH??!?!

 

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL

 

JESUS. Mara. This was heartbreaking and SO GOOD. The simplicity of what she wants verses WHY she wants it. IS JuST. MMM. TASTY.

 
If he needs her, he can never abandon her. 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

If he needs her, he can never abandon her.

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

Okay then. Come for me why don’t you.

[Katia11]

i hope you know this fic really does live rent free in my mind. I am OBSESSED with it. Like, the CHEMISTRY. THE ANGST. The BANTER.

 

I could write novel length essays about the way the things you create crawl under my skin and take up residence there, but I won't. 

[Mara=^.^=]

It lives rent free in my head too, using my electricity and water and eating all my food.

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =