temsikspirit (
temsikspirit) wrote in
westerntrick2013-05-05 09:04 pm
June 22nd, 1894
It was a particularly dark evening, one without any moon to cast its glow. The streets downtown at least were lit well enough for pedestrians still straggling home but it was of no concern to the man in the overcoat. Not when a simple slip into the world of the dead would negate the need for light at all.
Nor is he on his way to any particular place. For the moment, he's contented himself with leaning back against a wall, watching the occasional person stroll down the street. To them he might as well not be there at all. Today would have been just as uneventful as any other were it not for his earlier meeting with a couple acquaintances of the blue-skinned variety. Weren't many of them around here and they sure stuck out like a sore thumb but the influx of immigrants lately brings many surprises to this land of opportunity. The thought alone would make him smirk had he less motor control.
It was business as usual, more discussions, more requests of proof. Yomiel was happy to oblige but it was starting to feel like they were making him go through the mill for this. It was going to take them a heck of a lot longer to make arrangements at this pace but the truth was...he could wait, if he had to. It'd all pan out in the end.
The thought strikes him that he should probably head home soon but there isn't much reason for it. There's no urgency to his existence, hardly a reason for any adherence to time save for a horse who might need him. The queerness of that thought immediately turns his mood for worse. Maybe he'll drop his body and possess some sap tonight for fun.
Nor is he on his way to any particular place. For the moment, he's contented himself with leaning back against a wall, watching the occasional person stroll down the street. To them he might as well not be there at all. Today would have been just as uneventful as any other were it not for his earlier meeting with a couple acquaintances of the blue-skinned variety. Weren't many of them around here and they sure stuck out like a sore thumb but the influx of immigrants lately brings many surprises to this land of opportunity. The thought alone would make him smirk had he less motor control.
It was business as usual, more discussions, more requests of proof. Yomiel was happy to oblige but it was starting to feel like they were making him go through the mill for this. It was going to take them a heck of a lot longer to make arrangements at this pace but the truth was...he could wait, if he had to. It'd all pan out in the end.
The thought strikes him that he should probably head home soon but there isn't much reason for it. There's no urgency to his existence, hardly a reason for any adherence to time save for a horse who might need him. The queerness of that thought immediately turns his mood for worse. Maybe he'll drop his body and possess some sap tonight for fun.

no subject
"It's not 'nough. I can still feel my face." Apollo frowned to himself at the mention of friends, and... hell with it, he was drinking in front of everyone else, there was no reason to care about drinking in front of Yomiel. He only took a small swig this time, but the burn was nice, a wonderful distraction. He almost felt as though that burn was a replacement for the sting of tears he would've been feeling otherwise, which made it a very fair prince indeed.
"I don't got many friends. Who'd wanna be friends with th' law? You can't trust 'em, can't even trust a lawman, an' that means there's no trustin' no one. So where's that leave you?" That's what stung the most, that Apollo apparently hadn't learned his lesson after all the years he'd gone through of learning just how bad people could get. He'd looked up to Deputy Gavin, and - well, he wasn't no deputy anymore. Apollo briefly glared down at his glass before throwing back the rest of its contents, swaying forward against the bar as the rush of alcohol hit him.