open rp post

[curiously]

DROP IN PROMPTS, PICTURES, OLD THREADS, A POST OR EVEN TFLN BRING IT.
( cw: body horror, gore, violence & etc. in some threads + please label threads for such. )

<small>( ➵ from <a href="">here</a> )</small>

Comments

[curiously]

[ not the answer she's looking for. unsurprising, but that doesn't mean it stops her curiosity the slightest. ]

You can only fix it so many times before it's fully repaired and ready for the next trial, and drinking — well, I can't blame you on that one. Don't you get bored by the end of it, though?

[deathslinger]

[ more like by the start of it, he thinks. ]

usually get called to another trial before that point
and ill thank you not to talk about the redeemer as if you know more about its workings than the one who invented it

[curiously]

Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to offend — it's just hard to think of only doing so many things when I try to imagine being in your shoes.

Why is it called the Redeemer?

[deathslinger]

told you im a bounty hunter didnt i
redeemings what i do to those im sent to capture
that hasnt changed here so the name stays

[curiously]

I suppose. Admittedly I imagined a second meaning for it when you mentioned its name for a moment.

How long did it take you to build it?

[deathslinger]

[ a second meaning. Despite himself, a smile flickers over his face when he reads that, a twist of morbid humor. She's not the first to say so about the Redeemer, even though one glance at the wickedly sharp spear and bayonet make it obvious that it's no instrument of holiness. ]

a month or near about
took another before it worked to my satisfaction

[curiously]

How'd you come up with it? Any inspirations? And how did you catch people before making the Redeemer?

[ the result of an answer spawns only a thousand more questions. ]

[deathslinger]

[ questions fly one after another like a barrage of bullets. But the flash of irritation Caleb feels when he sees them is just that—gone in an instant. Unlike certain others he'd prefer to curse than name, she seems genuinely interested in his work. It's... nice. ]

didnt start bounty hunting till i had it
it came from another idea of mine years before
a machine thatd shoot spikes for laying down railroad tracks

[curiously]

[ already she immediately recalls his record — assault on previous employer who runs a railroad company — as he explains his inspiration. hmm. ]

I can see it with how it works already during trials.

What other inventions have you made before? And have you made any new ones recently?

[deathslinger]

made a steam powered drill for tunneling

[ the last notable invention before getting locked away for fifteen years. But he'd kept his hands and mind busy in Hellshire too, hadn't he? Contraptions of iron and steel, designed to crush a man's spirit between their teeth and tear it apart with their springs. All his work—and yet, an odd reluctance rises at the thought of laying claim to them. Especially before Zarina.

Maybe it's because he made them for Hellshire's warden, a man almost as loathsome as Bayshore. Yes, that has to be the reason. ]

and some other things not worth mentioning
got nothing new here yet
been studying mostly

[curiously]

Studying what?

[ a pause, a second text because she gains an idea because it's currently not taken ]

And you know, if you're curious, I could show you a few things like my camera. Did flashlights exist in your time?

[deathslinger]

[ and here they come circling right back to what he does when not in a trial. But this time with his own words leading the way, and Zarina only following. To backtrack now would just sound foolish. The most he can do is answer— ]

the generators and gates during trials

[ —and move on. ]

the things you all like to shine right in my face
or click to try and get my attention?
no

[ fuck flashlights tbh. ]

closest would probably be dark lanterns
but the light from those aint nearly as strong

[ to her offer, he says nothing. She can't really mean it. ]

[curiously]

Really? That explains a few things then, maybe.

[ he's dodging the dialogue! again!! ]

Also, I don't hear an answer from you.

[deathslinger]

to what
i answered both your questions

[curiously]

Do you want to see my camera?

[deathslinger]

[ a minute passes. ]

why would i
seen you with it plenty of times by now
and i already know what a camera is

[ granted, the ones he's familiar with are cumbersome devices, nowhere near small enough to hang from a slender neck like Zarina's or cradle between palms. But the basic concept—a machine using light to freeze an image in place—is the same. Or should be. Right? ]

[curiously]

[ why is she not surprised at how he responds. ]

I'll take it as a no.

I was planning to offer it because my camera isn't the same as a phone camera. There are much more different options to look around on, like changing color and night vision. I assumed you'd want a peek at technology from my time.

[deathslinger]

[ she's right, but— ]

you never let go of that thing whenever you have it
strange of you to offer it now just because you think it might interest me

[ in trials, he sometimes comes across discarded items—toolboxes and medical chests and those damned flashlights—but never what he recognizes as more personal possessions. A silver cross clasped between shaking fingers, a pink cloth tied tightly around a straining wrist... and Zarina's camera, even though its weight can only slow her down in a chase. ]

[curiously]

I just thought you'd like to try it, that's all. I know I would be when something new appears.

What makes my offer suspicious to you?

[deathslinger]

what do you want in exchange

[curiously]

Nothing?

Look, this is just me feeling friendly enough to lend it to you. If you don't want it, just say so already.

[deathslinger]

[ oh my god

a very long pause. ]

bring it here then
but itll be no fault of mine if you get caught by someone else on the way over

[curiously]

[ why must their conversations bounce between civil and him being rude — zarina's thoughts 2020. at least she was on the mark of him wanting to see it. ]

Give me a few minutes then.

[deathslinger]

[ Caleb reads her message but doesn't reply. The phone screen goes dark of its own accord where it rests on the workbench before him, placed well off to the side of his Redeemer which has been partially dissembled for cleaning. Shutting his eyes briefly, he pinches the bridge of his nose and thinks back on the conversation that just took place.

He ought to have refused. Turned her away several times and never let her set foot again on such an inquisitive path, his own curiosity be damned. A bounty hunter needs only to know enough about his quarry to anticipate their movements. Deepening an acquaintance beyond that can lead nowhere good.

And yet—is she just someone he hunts now?

With a shake of his head and a sigh, he continues wiping down the pieces of the Redeemer with a cloth, resolved not to think more on that.

Though the building Caleb appropriated and made into a workshop is a walk of mere minutes down the road from the saloon, it's still somewhat hidden. As decrepit-looking as the rest of Glenvale and windowless, its entrance is boarded up and padlocked during a trial. Outside of one, he keeps the door open whenever he's working within, unwilling to shut himself inside a stifling darkness. It admits just enough sunlight to illuminate his workbench and a small forge on the other side of the room. Various tools gleam dully from where they hang on the walls. Crates rest under the workbench and in the far corners, some sealed and others showing a jumble of equipment ( including a few flashlights ). A couple of toolboxes gathered in the aftermath of trials sit on shelves, their contents neatly sorted.

Zarina surely hasn't seen this place. She might not even find him here. But Caleb isn't inclined at all to stop his work and head over to the saloon. She's already interrupted him for too long for his liking with her incessant questions. ]

[curiously]

[ when one walks through the fog, zarina remembers so vividly the tip meg gives her when it comes to roaming out and finding where you need to be: think about it.

at first it confuses her. of course she thinks about the destination they go out to scavenge for supplies — why wouldn't she? zarina's the type of person who, when it comes to work, would memorize blueprints and camera placements so that no clue gets left behind of her possible appearance. it's explained to her how everything just seems to fall into place after imagining the realm they plan to steal from — how imagining and desiring to go to a single place, or meet a single person, is strangely granted within the fog.

zarina absolutely understands it after bumping into jed several times in the fog. how she hates meeting him despite how he acts like a normal person — she doesn't forget how he takes her camera, recorder, and beanie now and then with blood as a result during trials. it's why she only hopes not to meet the man briefly before focusing on her destination, focusing on the person she does wish to meet instead.

glenvale. caleb quinn. sunlight. the stars in the sky.

the first realm she steps into isn't glenvale, but still somewhere bright despite the sun constantly hiding behind numerous clouds. already she recognizes it as the farm — not her final destination, but she passes through without catching the attention of the two chainsaw wielding men who can break her in half without trouble. zarina grows up learning quiet steps to the point it's necessary with her career, after all.

running a hand through her hair and combing any leaves or hay remaining, she finally steps out of the cold fog and into the familiar heat of the west. already she beelines straight towards the saloon. though cheeks still flushed from the stolen whiskey she drinks prior, zarina isn't as intoxicated as when she messages him today. ]

Hello? [ she calls out, waiting for a response. ] Are you here, Quinn?

[ a minute passes before zarina lets out a thoughtful hum. where's the man who wishes to study her camera up close? she doesn't forget his confirmation on yes, he'd like to see it least he never does in the future.

so, where could he be?

as always, zarina begins to look around the empty town of glenvale when the saloon proves to be empty in the end. did he change his mind or up and disappear for a trial? if it's the former, then why doesn't he say so and stop wasting her time? if it's the latter, then she can wait.

already she begins to shed her wool scarf and leather jacket thanks to the weather while peeking through the windows of various small buildings in the area. they're different — something she's noted long ago ever since the first interview. corpses are missing as well as the generators, lockers, and various walls that she's become so used to. there are doors and glass windows in places that are normally bare; no barriers for everyone to run through without panicking at locked doors with nowhere to run in the end.

speaking of doors — ]

Knock knock, cowboy. [ she says while tapping on the wooden portion of the open door; she finally finds him. it's after the knock that hazel eyes finally look around at what's actually inside the room. ] What is this place?