Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Ciosa on 08-03-2013, 11:36:38</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>08-03-2013, 11:36:38</strong>
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				<hr><div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/e6/Reloadedbanner.png)</div><hr><br><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">Home Sweet Home</span></strong></div><br><div align="center">This thread is for any roleplaying which occurs inside a private residence.&nbsp; This is to include any PC or NPC residence, rented or owned.&nbsp; Note that those residing in Sodom or a hotel, casino, store, or saloon should use those locations instead.&nbsp; Please use the Tagging Header listed below.</div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Doomtown Tagging Header</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[hr]<br>[floatleft][IMG height=200 padding=8]&lt;Link to your character's picture&gt;[/IMG][/floatleft] <br>[b]Name:[/b] <br>[b]Faction:[/b] (Unknown, or the associated faction rank.&nbsp; If faction rank is less than three, it is not required to note.)<br>[b]Date:[/b]<br>[b]Time of Day:[/b] (morning, noon, afternoon.&nbsp; Please avoid precise timing.)<br>[b]Location:[/b] <br>[b]Tagged:[/b] <br>[hr] </code></pre></div></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>04-05-2013, 08:12:09</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5a/Agatha-avi.jpg) </div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Elizabeth, Christian, Onneca<br><hr>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br><br><br><div align="center">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/7c/AggyHouse2.jpg)</div> <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Agatha Dunwich’s house is located at the end of the block near the edge of town.&nbsp; It is safer that way.&nbsp; Her home is a modest solid wood construction.&nbsp; It is two stories and painted a pretty light blue.&nbsp; If it weren’t for the occasional copper pipe or clockwork addition to the home it would look no different from many of the other homes on the Gomorra Mesa.&nbsp; As it is Agatha had added a few modern conveniences in the last year she has been the owner.&nbsp; She has added a small enclosure out back with a working shower to wash away the grime of the day before tracking it into her home and she has some rudimentary plumbing to pipe collected water from barrels and pans outside.&nbsp; The downstairs has her kitchen and sitting room for entertaining friends and her own tiny work area mostly used for drawing up blueprints.&nbsp; The upstairs contains two rooms.&nbsp; One is a small bedroom that she barely uses and the other is her bedroom that is dominated by a four post bed complete with canopy and a large steamer truck at it's foot.&nbsp; Her bed and the bathing basin are the two creature comforts that she truly enjoys<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Canopy Bed</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div align="center">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/75/Agatha%27s_Bed.jpg)</div></div></div>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The windows of Agatha’s modest home were open to let the heat of her kitchen mingle with the heat of the late afternoon.&nbsp; The hot California day was being cooled by the ocean breezes that swept the Mesa’s about this time.&nbsp; It would be a couple more hours before the sun dipped below the horizon and the heat would become manageable or at least palatable.&nbsp; &nbsp;Someone walking by could, if they listened hard enough, hear the soft voice of the red-haired inventor singing quietly, her lilting voice a perfect match for the song from her homeland...<br>&nbsp;<br>“By a lonely prison wall<br>&nbsp;I heard a young girl calling<br>&nbsp;Micheal they are taking you away<br>&nbsp;For you stole Trevelyn's corn<br>&nbsp;So the young might see the morn. <br>&nbsp;Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay. <br><br>&nbsp;Low lie the Fields of Athenry<br>&nbsp;Where once we watched the small free birds fly. <br>&nbsp;Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing<br>&nbsp;It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry. <br><br>&nbsp;By a lonely prison wall<br>&nbsp;I heard a young man calling<br>&nbsp;Nothing matters Mary when you're free,<br>&nbsp;Against the Famine and the Crown<br>&nbsp;I rebelled they ran me down <br>&nbsp;Now you must raise our child with dignity. <br><br>&nbsp;Low lie the Fields of Athenry<br>&nbsp;Where once we watched the small free birds fly. <br>&nbsp;Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing<br>&nbsp;It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wulfspire</strong> on <strong>07-05-2013, 04:02:59</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/20/Christian_Bale_Cowboy_3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Christian Specter<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong>Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha, Elizabeth, Onneca<br><hr><br>Christian was tired. Real tired. He had spent the remaining part of his day out on the Mesa looking for clues. The Man in Black had never been easy to find before, never left much of a trail, let alone bodies, but Christian was sure he had killed the Sheriff. The Man had to be in Gomorra. Christian needed him to be there.<br><br>Walking back into town Christian could not help but think of the scolding he was going to be getting soon. He was filthy again, dust and dirt from the Mesa covered him from head to toe, and not a bit of that was going to make Agatha happy. Her house, on the outskirts of town, was a sight for sore eyes for the gunslinger. The sound made his eyes well up for a moment.<br><br>Christian had heard her sing before, and it brought a certain joy to his soul that few things in this world could. He waited at the door for quite some time, listening to her and letting her voice fill his mind. For those brief moments, Christian forgot about the Man in Black, forgot about his quest to avenge his father. He forgot the heat, the hunger, and the worry over how many men he was going to have to kill in this town. The quick draw had always thought of Agatha like a younger sister, someone he needed to protect and to guard, but at times like these he realized just how much he needed to be protected by her.<br><br>Breath past his lips slowly as he sighed, blinked the misty eyes away, and he opened the door softly. With his other hand he drew the harmonica he kept in his pocket, and jumped right into the tune with her. He took the part where bagpipes might normally play, and with some skill played away. While no dancing or much joy was shown by his face, Agatha might know Christian well enough to know he was enjoying himself like he rarely did.<br><br>“Howdy, Aggy. Hell, I’ve missed that,” Christian finally said when their song ended.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>08-05-2013, 06:46:14</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i1217.photobucket.com/albums/dd394/Vithe_rothe/Doomtown/doomtown003_zps4f74c1bd.jpg)</div> <br><br><br><strong>Name:</strong><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"> <span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">Lady Elisabeth Boyle</span></span><br><strong>Faction:</strong> Member of the Collegium.<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's house<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha, Onneca, Christian<br><hr> <br><br>Elisabeth hurried along the walkway deep in thought. She had spent time with Teddy doing nothing more then kissing and sharing his day. He made her laugh and she was sorting out her feelings for the man and what a man he was. He was Strong and handsome and cared about many things and he also understood her deep fears. He had seen the things for real she only saw in her night mares. He had fought them and maybe lost a piece of himself doing so. He did not laugh or think she was being hysterical for her fears or even her need that would force her to go running to his arms. She felt safe with him, as safe as anyone could feel and yet she knew he was unsure of their relationship, she thought he felt unworthy of her being with a poor working man. Which was nonsense but then he was a man and had his pride.<br><br>She looked up as she climbed the stairs to her place above her shop. She needed a few things, that she had packed in an over night bag. Grabbing the multicolored carpet bag she also took time to stop by her safe and gather her potions and a box of ammo. One could never be to prepared.<br><br>She undid her hair and let it hang loose around her face, normally she kept it in a proper style but then she was feeling good about her self, Teddy always had that effect and did not care what the busy bodies of the town said. Her feet guided her to the part of town where Agatha lived, she had visited once before and still enjoyed the bright color of the house as well as the copper pieces and clockwork gears that stuck out here and there. Agatha had helped with her greenhouse behind her shop improving its design as well as adding in various things to help with the humidity and heat so she could grow certain rare herbs as well as the gift she had with her as a present for staying over. <br><br>She hoped Onncea would not delay, she had a bad feeling, something she just could not describe that made the nair on her neck stand on end. It almost like she knew one of her nightmares was gonna happen which was of course not normal. She loved the lovely hispanic woman like a sister and worried about her often. She hoped that maybe with everyone staying together Onneca and Agatha could finally address their mutual attraction. <br><br>The night breeze blew dryacross the mesa, tossing bits and pieces of flotsam as well as filling the evening air with weird sounds from the water around the Town. Yet other then that it was quiet. Worst was the lack of the law, no deputies or any part of the group under Coleman patroled the streets. She could see those out and about hurring toward their homes or destinations. The town felt as if it held its breath waiting to explode.<br><br>As she stepped to the white gate in front of Agatha's house she heard a harmonica and a very pretty voice singing an old song. Her lips curved since she did not know that among Agatha's many talents was also a very pretty singing voice. Stepped past the gate that swung silent on its hinges she climbed the steps barely making a sound. <br><br>“Howdy, Aggy. Hell, I’ve missed that,” spoke the man that had to be the famous 'Spooky' or more aptly called Christian Specter. She stood in the door way a moment taking in his lean build and the way the holstered gun rode his hip as if part of him. Even with him seeming at ease she could tell he was a dangerous man but one that Agatha trusted and adorned and she trusted her friend.<br><br>"Agatha Dunwich, the things I find out about you still amaze me. Such a Lovely singing voice and you have kept it hidden." She was careful to make no quick moves with a gunman like Christian standing there but her green eyes met his and she nodded then carefully stepped through the open door offering her hand like a man would. "you must be Christian. I am very pleased to meet you, Agatha has spoken of you often though she never said how handsome you were"<br><br>"Agatha Dear perhaps you could introduce me." she said as she sat her bag on the floor.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>11-05-2013, 18:43:57</strong>
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				&nbsp;<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5a/Agatha-avi.jpg)] </div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha Dunwich’s Home<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Elizabeth, Christian and Onneca<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha was busy in the kitchen flittering about from stove, cupboard and back again.&nbsp; She wasn’t concentrating on the song so much as letting the part of her brain that was constantly running be preoccupied by it.&nbsp; There was the occasional bang of a pot or a cupboard and the sizzle and pop of bubbling water to accompany her song.&nbsp; There was a tiny smile on her lips and light in her eye as she wove her own little magic in the small kitchen.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;She had left the shop in Maria’s capable hands and left early to start dinner, which consisted of a chicken roasted on a spit outside and basted with lemon, butter, rosemary, sage and thyme.&nbsp; There were artichokes that had been steamed over the stove and a bushel of multicolored squash, carrots and onions waiting to be chopped and tossed into a waiting frying pan.&nbsp; She had just pulled a sheet of hand rolled biscuits from the over when she heard the familiar sound of a harmonica joining her song.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha looked over her shoulder at Christian as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe and smiled.&nbsp; Her cheeks were flush from the heat of the kitchen and she wore a white apron over a comfortable plain green dress, it was one of her favorites.&nbsp; No hat adorned her head, but she had left her hair pinned in place to keep it from ruining their food.&nbsp; Agatha continued to sing, her lilt adding to the song instead of taking away from it, unlike others.&nbsp; She had attempted to sing Camptown Races once for Christian around a campfire.&nbsp; The coyotes had sounded better.&nbsp; Much of Agatha’s accent had been taught out of her, but it was still there in certain words, or when she got angry or very tired or when she sang.<br><br>“Howdy, Aggy. Hell, I’ve missed that,”<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; “Sometimes I do too.” She said and put down the hot sheet of biscuits to give Christian a warm hug.&nbsp; “Sometimes I do too.”&nbsp; The time she spent with Christian had been a whirlwind, an adventure most young women dreamed of, but the reality of that life was much harsher than the dime store novels would have you believe.&nbsp; Agatha could read Christian better than most and the peace in his eyes made her happy and sad.&nbsp; Perhaps if she were different she could have drawn him away from his quest for the man in black, given him a reason to stay and a warm bed to come home too, but she was not different.&nbsp; His chiseled features and strong jaw did not stir her in the way olive skin and fine bones did.&nbsp; For both there sakes life may have been better if things had been different.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;"Agatha Dunwich, the things I find out about you still amaze me. Such a Lovely singing voice and you have kept it hidden.&nbsp; You must be Christian. I am very pleased to meet you.&nbsp; Agatha has spoken of you often though she never said how handsome you were. Agatha Dear perhaps you could introduce me." <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha stepped back and blushed a little at the compliment from Elizabeth.&nbsp; “It’s meant only for Irish songs I’m afraid.” She answered lightly at the radiant English woman.&nbsp; “And maybe I was keeping that my very own secret.” Agatha answered playfully taking Christian’s arm in mock possessiveness.&nbsp; Agatha was sure that is how other ladies would react if a woman as beautiful as Elizabeth showed an interest in their man.&nbsp; In truth she would be quite happy if Elizabeth took an interest in Christian.&nbsp; A woman like Elizabeth could bring a man to heel as quick as you like, a woman too for that matter if she was so inclined, but Agatha didn’t think she was.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“Christian, we are going to have some house guests for a few days.&nbsp; Elizabeth and Onneca are going to be staying with us until some of this nastiness with picking a new sheriff has been settled.” She informed her friend as if it was nothing more than family visiting.&nbsp; “But yes where are my manners.&nbsp; Christian Specter this is Lady Elizabeth Doyle, owner and proprietor of The London Royal Apothecary and one of my best and closest friends.&nbsp; &nbsp;Lady Elizabeth, this is Christian Specter, lawless gunman, intimidating grump and a big softly when you get to know him.&nbsp; Just don’t call him Spooky.&nbsp; He doesn’t like it much, isn’t that right Spooky.”&nbsp; Agatha was obviously in a good mood.&nbsp; “Now why don’t you two get to know one another while I take Elizabeth's bag upstairs and finish up dinner?”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wulfspire</strong> on <strong>14-05-2013, 05:38:22</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/20/Christian_Bale_Cowboy_3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Christian Specter<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong>Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha, Elizabeth, Onneca<br><hr><br>The hug of Agatha put Christian at ease more than any other thing in the world, always had in the last year he had known her. Many might mistake his adoration of her to be a longing take her as his own, but Christian was just happy to have family that was happy to have him. Agatha Dunwich was the sister Christian could no longer go home to, the sister he could protect.<br><br>“You must be Christian. I am very pleased to meet you, Agatha has spoken of you often though she never said how handsome you were,” spoke the new arrival to Agatha’s home, and by doing so, she did something few had done in many years. She made Christian jump.<br><br>He was startled, and startling a gunslinger can be very dangerous. Reaper was out of its holster faster than a blink, and Spooky had taken in Elizabeth, her lack of weapons or hostile intent, and had his weapon returned to its place at his hip just as quickly. The entire motion was fluid, even the spin of the weapon seemed a flourish and not a simple re-sheathing. <br><br>Christian, despite his apparent assumption of danger, seemed unbothered. His breathing was calm and normal. He blinked just once, and his stance suggested he was still as relaxed as before, despite the draw and replacement of his six gun.<br><br>The young woman who had startled him so already knew who he was, and that caused an arched eyebrow. Christian was still a mess, dust and worse covering him and giving him the smell of the trail. When she spoke of him being handsome, his eyebrows narrowed in what appeared to be confusion. The source of that confusion, however, was likely unclear.<br><br>When Agatha took his arm, Christian gave her a little shove with his shoulder joining her game. She then explained that two of her friends would be staying at her home as well and his face became quite dark indeed. Things were worse than he thought if people were gathering in numbers for safety. He was going to be responsible for the well-being of these women while he was there. He did not so much mind the responsibility, it just changed the way he was going to do things. He could no longer ride the outskirts of the city, looking for trails all night, every night. He going to have to come back, and actually sleep on something cushiony. Oh the horror.<br><br>Agatha introduced Elizabeth and he gave her a weak smile, and a tip of his hat, “Ma’am.”<br><br>Then Agatha took her turn introducing Christian. At lawless gunman, his jaw clenched. At intimidating grump, he turned to look down upon Agatha with narrowed eyes and grumpy expression on his face, those ice-blue, cold eyes staring at her. At big softy, he could take it no longer, “Now wait just a minute!” <br><br>Agatha, being Agatha, cut him off and advised Elizabeth to avoid calling Christian by the monicker “Spooky.” It was true, he disdained the nickname the dime novels had graced him with. A man had tried to use that name to get under his skin many months ago. The man succeeded and was lying under Boot Hill now.&nbsp; He turned his gaze to Elizabeth to take her in. <br><br>She was a beautiful woman, Christian had not seen many like her. Something about blondes set his blood on fire, and it had gotten him into trouble more than once. There was Lucy Taber, for one, and Abigail. The name brought a memory that caused Christian’s back to tighten. Elizabeth was different though. Something about her screamed to him. It screamed innocence, and it screamed kindness, in a way that Christian could not ignore. She was not like the others, Christian could see. She was a good soul.<br><br>“Miss Boyle, pleased ta meet ya,” Christian again tipped his hat. He may be a grumpy, gruff cowpoke, but he was raised with manners, especially around women. Agatha left to take Elizabeth’s bags to the guest bedroom, which meant Christian was sleeping on the couch. Hell, that’s a sight better’n the dirt.<br><br>“I s’pose Aggy’s right, I can come ‘cross grumpy more’n I oughta. I'll try'n be a mite kinder with ya around." He paused a long moment before continuing, "I reckon if I don’t say it now, I won’t have the courage ta later,” Christian gave Elizabeth another smile, this one more genuine and with some strength, “Yer quite purty ma’am. I must say I envy little Aggy. She’s got herself quite the woman.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>14-05-2013, 08:21:49</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i1217.photobucket.com/albums/dd394/Vithe_rothe/Doomtown/doomtown003_zps4f74c1bd.jpg)</div> <br><br><br><strong>Name:</strong><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"> <span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">Lady Elisabeth Boyle</span></span><br><strong>Faction:</strong> Member of the Collegium.<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's house<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha, Onneca, Christian<br><hr> <br><br>Elisabeth just arched an eyebrow as the man's gun was coming up faster then she had ever seen. For less then a heartbeat it centered on her, the tunnel of the barrel looking huge, then it dropped and with a spin and flourish was reseated in the worn holster. The man had moved quicker then Agatha had even realized or maybe even noticed. She exhaled then took a slow even breath and her red tinted lips curved in a smile.<br><br>As Agatha spoke and gently teased Christian, her green eyes watched him. She could see with the shoulder bump that he cared about Agatha but more like a brother and the exasperation that for a moment soften his hard face gave her another clue. As did the “Now wait just a minute!” that came out with a sputter but lacked any anger. <br><br>Agatha grabbed her night bag leaving Elisabeth standing with her purse and a covered box. Her green eyes danced in the light of the house then she stepped close to the man. Maybe it was the danger he presented.<br>Maybe it was the racing of her blood after looking into the barrel of a gun. Maybe it was the lingering effect of Teddy. Elisabeth went up on tip toes and leaned close to the gunfighter. She was not like many women that worn buckets of perfume so one could smell them across the street. this close though she smelled of roses and soap. Her voice was low with a soft English accent that was both exotic and refreshing, "I am not Aggy's woman though if my plans work in this mess we have maybe Aggy will finally have one. Onneca de Goni her childhood friend will also be joining us and I plan on finally getting them to actknowledge their feelings and I do hope 'Christian' you wont interfer" She lowered her self to her feet but her green eyes met his with a fierce look.<br><br>Her hand patted his chest as she smiled and brushed past into the main area of the kitchen. She sat the box and her purse on a counter, the purse making a soft 'clunk' as she did so. Her deft fingers opened the box showing it was full of big ripe strawberries. She also opened her purse and laid a pistol (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Bull_Dog_revolver) on the counter. "please call me Elisabeth and this is what I carry"<br>Being who he was she thought it much better to let the man know she also had a gun, since it might avoid her being shot by mistake.<br><br>She pulled another apron free from its hooks and grabbed a knife to start chopping the carrots. her hands were skilled and deft as they quickly made small pieces of the orange vegetable. "Christian, You probally should wash up in the sink before Agatha comes back." She gave the man a smile with her head tilted and a look through her eye lashes that showed she was clearly more a man's lady then he may have thought.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wulfspire</strong> on <strong>18-05-2013, 04:46:31</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/1e/Christian_Bale_Cowboy_4.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Christian "Spooky" Specter<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Elisabeth, Agatha, Onneca<br><hr><br><em>Damn she smells good.</em> That was the only thing Christian could think as she leaned towards him. Though his stony face would not reflect it, his heart sped up just a bit as she got closer and his breathing quickened slightly. Elisabeth spoke of her plans for Agatha and this Onneca woman, and Christian processed it quickly. <em>Long as she can’t hurt Aggy, I’ll be happy to stay outta the way.</em><br><br>Her accent stirred something in him as well; something about the exotic sound caused his eyes to narrow and hard lined cheeks to soften with the smallest of smiles. Elisabeth learned something about Christian then, something very important: when he was in the presence of women, Christian preferred to listen, rather than speak.<br><br>Christian nodded his head a few times when she showed him her weapon, the small revolver raising his eyebrows a bit. Gomorra was a dangerous place, to be sure, but it was just like every other hell-hole in the West. Most women did not go around armed up like Elisabeth, and that pointed to a situation direr than Christian had assumed. The death of the sheriff must have frightened people more than Christian knew, that or something more dangerous was going on. That latter thought caused Christian to drum his fingers along the handle of “Reaper.”<br><br>“Pleasure ta meet ya, ma…Elisabeth,” Christian bowed his head slightly out of respect, his deep baritone voice graveled&nbsp; as he rumbled and stumbled a second introduction. <br><br>She advised him to wash up before dinner, more specifically before Agatha came back, and Christian suspected this woman was far clever than most. She knew to make sure <em>he</em> knew she was armed, and she knew how agitated Agatha would be to find him all filthy again. He stepped to the sink, and with not just a little hesitation as she gave him that smile, taking off his duster and Stetson as he did. Once he was by the water basin, he set them down with incredible care and unusual reverence. They were both in incredible shape, at least compared to the rest of him. Both had a well-oiled look to the leather and fabric, and as he set the Stetson down it almost looked as if he had said a prayer, or words to the dearly departed.<br><br>With his regular shirt now exposed, it became very clear just how trail worn the man really was. Christian’s shirt had not a few holes in it, located in the elbows and one along the back shoulder. In the gap of fabric on his shoulder, a puckered scar could be seen, the obvious exit wound for a bullet. It was presumably not the only one of those covering him. His pants were as worn as his shirt, though because of the tougher denim, no real holes existed. The buttocks and back of the knees were faded from constant wear. His gun belt was the last thing left on him that had a cared-for look to it. It was well-oiled as well, and the buckle looked as if it had been lovingly replaced a number of times.<br><br>Without the duster covering his form, he was revealed to be a lean, muscular man. He was used to the trail, and the way he stood and walked it was obvious he found the saddle easy enough. Even while drinking or bathing, he kept an watch on the horizon, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as he searched out all the dangers of the West. While his face had hard lines, giving him a sharp look, those ice-blue eyes held a certain kindness to them, a gentleness one might not expect from a grizzled gunfighter who made a reputation of gunning men down.<br><br>“Reaper” and “Doc” were also among the gunslinger’s few possessions. “Doc” was a well-used, well cared for, Winchester ’76, and “Reaper” was what made the man famous: a Colt Peacemaker that supposedly had taken almost as many lives as Death himself. They looked as though they were worth more than the rest of his gear combined. Both had meticulously details engravings along the stock, “Reaper” boasting images of death, while “Doc” seemed to depict angels from on high. “Reaper,” save for the quick cleaning he gave it with a frown, never left his hip. “Doc” was resting not far away, easily within arm’s reach. <br><br>He cupped his calloused hands and dipped them gently within the water, slowly bringing the cool liquid to his face. He took a few moments to clean his face and hands, running a bit through his hair to tame it from the lack of a hat. If he were dining with ladies tonight, he would not have the benefit of a head covering. When he had cleaned himself up a bit, though his clothes were still filthy and worn almost ragged, Christian sauntered back into the kitchen.<br><br>“Smells good,” his rough, husky voice commented on the carrots and the rest of the meal, or perhaps he was talking about her. He grabbed a few plates and began setting places for four people. Once the table had been set, he made his way to stand beside Elisabeth and she chopped carrots. He leaned against the counter and just watched her fingers move, deftly cutting away. Maybe he was showing off, or maybe he was not thinking, but as the knife came up from one slice he swept his fingers in and grabbed the piece, placing it in his mouth just before she brought the knife back down. A very small, almost unnoticeable grin rested on the gunslinger’s lips as he crunched on the raw carrot slowly. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>19-05-2013, 02:23:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Elisabeth, Agatha, Christian<br><hr><br>Life on the coat-tails of the railroad had taught Onneca to pack light. A toothbrush, her nightclothes, the essential toiletries such as tooth cleaner of eucalyptus and cocaine, rose-water for complexion, olive oil for shine and luster. It all fit into a little bag, the same as Elisabeth. Rich ladies packed with luggage. They were status symbols in themselves, prettily wrapped packages of a woman's material things, her declaration of preparedness, her slavery to bulky east coast fashions. Bellhops were employed just to humor them. Onneca had never learned very well how to behave like a rich lady, although she was, there could be no doubting it.<br><br>A feathery light dress, creamy and long, danced around her sandaled feet. A dominant, cascading color like the pale moon brought out her dark Mexican hue, and from the hem and the cinched waist, fields of berry-colored flowers crept wild into the endless and elegant expanse of white canvas.. It was an evolution of the puebla, loose on the shoulders and the hips, with a wide and plunging neckline to let the summer heat escape. But that was improper for a young lady with glistening cleavage, even if it did house the cross of Our Lord and Savior, and so over it she'd worn her multicolored rebozo, a scarf that wound around and around the shoulders in lively layers of color like a tulip bloom.<br><br>It was extravagant, but she'd made it with her own hands, so perhaps she was allowed. It would pain her to craft something that was merely passable.<br><br>There were sounds from inside, a murmur of someone's deep voice along with the click of carrots being chopped. An aroma of spices lured her to the kitchen window before she'd set foot on the porch. "Hola," she said through the breeze-blown curtains, petite and childlike without the height of the kitchen that Elisabeth and Spooky were enjoying. She hadn't seen the man just yet. "Umm, delicioso. Do you know how to make the carrot rose? Un momento, I will be in." From one open window to the next she moved, a disembodied voice floating on the evening breeze, sweet and relaxed, oblivious to the pistols or the flirtation or the plots being hatched there in the kitchen. "It is good to spend time together. Have we ever cooked anything?" A little further away, through the sitting room window, mapping out her progress for Elisabeth to follow, "We will have so much fun!"<br><br>There was a momentary freeze when she entered Agatha's home without Agatha there to welcome her. Without a body there to hug, it felt like trespass. "I am in," she announced. If the situation were reversed, if it were Agatha popping in Onneca's home in the heat of summer, there was no guarantee the tailor would be decent. She avoided peering in the work room or upstairs, and let her nose lead her to the kitchen.<br><br>When she was finally modeling her dress, modest bag clasped to the dimple of her lap, her dark eyes were round on Spooky and her playfulness drained out of her. "Oh." It was rare that she met the eyes of a stranger for very long, but Christian wasn't exactly a stranger- she had just never physically seen him. She was, for a moment, a little electrified bundle of nerves fit to fall out of her sandals, but she recovered. "Buenas noches." At the point where she slipped into Elisabeth's side of the kitchen, there would ordinarily be a giggle, but she was unprepared for the reality that the Spooky of the stories, the Christian of Agatha's past could be handsome and confident and charming. She was so shaken that she'd forgotten all about carrot roses.<br><br>She couldn't be spoiled and monopolize Aggy's attention anymore. It was there in her eyes as they turned to Elisabeth, sheepish, sorry, her fingers to her brow, yet still utterly unable to read what was passing between the two in the kitchen. "This is Spooky?" she mumbled to the Lady Boyle.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>19-05-2013, 21:18:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5a/Agatha-avi.jpg) </div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Elizabeth, Christian, Onneca (Maybe)<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha placed Elizabeth’s bag in her own room on top of the truck at the end of her bed.&nbsp; She and Onneca would have plenty of room in here.&nbsp; The bedding she placed was of the finest quality topped by her most favorite quilt.&nbsp; She gave the room one last observation making sure everything was perfect.&nbsp; This wasn’t exactly what Agatha thought about when she daydreamed of two beautiful women in her bed and she laughed at herself because of it.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The musical quality of Onneca’s voice floated up the stairs bringing a small smile to pink rosy lips.&nbsp; Yes for Agatha things were complicated, but regardless of her growing feelings for her childhood friend she was still above all her friend and having her and Elizabeth and Spooky here under her roof was the closest thing to a family gathering that Agatha had had in years.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “I’ll be down in a minute.” She called from the doorway of her bedroom before making sure the trunk at the end of her bed and the secrets it kept were locked safely away.&nbsp; She took a moment to look at herself in the full length mirror set in the corner of her room and smoothed out her dress and apron. With dinner nearly complete she began to pull pins from her hair and let loose coppery coils flow down her back and spill over her shoulders.&nbsp; A few minutes later when she had calmed little butterflies of excitement and nerves she descended the stairs and walked towards the kitchen seeing her friends gathered together.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; “Buenos noches.” She greeted her closest friend and once Onneca’s hands were free she could deliver the overdue hug.&nbsp; “I am really glad you came.” She said as quiet as the rustle of their clothing.&nbsp; She stepped back and took both of Onneca’s hands lifting them up to the side to look in admiration at her lovely dress.&nbsp; “Onny, this is beautiful.&nbsp; I don’t think I have seen this one before.&nbsp; Oh please let me take your bag upstairs.” She would take the small handbag from olive sun-kissed hands if she is allowed. “I have already moved Elizabeth’s into my bedroom.&nbsp; I am sorry I do not have more rooms, but there will be plenty of room in there for the both of you, I am sure.” She said letting Onneca’s arms go.&nbsp; “Thank you for setting the table.” She said to the others in the room not sure who had done so.&nbsp; “Onneca, this is Christian.&nbsp; Christian, this is Onneca.&nbsp; We grew up together in the rail camps and she was my closest friend as a little girl.” She introduced them to one another knowing Onneca’s shyness around strangers she stayed at her friend’s side, the back of her hand brushing along Onneca’s as if holding it without holding it.&nbsp; It was a small gesture barely noticeable among the rustling skirts that that flowed against one another.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“I trust Elizabeth has been keeping you entertained?” Agatha asked Spooky glancing between the two of them. “I see she got you to wash up.” She observed watching Elizabeth finishing up the carrots.&nbsp; “You didn’t have to do that dear.&nbsp; You are my guests.&nbsp; I want you to enjoy yourselves, not slave away in my kitchen.” It had yet to occur to her that if the three in her tiny kitchen were to compare notes she would have very few secrets left to tell.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>29-05-2013, 15:40:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i1217.photobucket.com/albums/dd394/Vithe_rothe/Doomtown/doomtown003_zps4f74c1bd.jpg)</div> <br><br><br><strong>Name:</strong><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"> <span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">Lady Elisabeth Boyle</span></span><br><strong>Faction:</strong> Member of the Collegium.<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's house<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha, Onneca, Christian<br><hr> <br><br>"Buenas noches Onneca," Elisabeth smiled as the lovely woman and her dear friend slide close and she whispered back, "Yes that is Spooky but he likes to be called Christian and he won't bite...unlike the one story Agatha told us about." Her fingers pulled another vegetable out to begin cutting it and her green eyes teased as she frowned at the man and louder said, "...but he could use a better shirt and might loose his fingers if he isn't careful." She lifted the sharp knife and waved it once back and forth at the man as he finished munching his carrot. It was clear that Elisabeth was not afraid of the man or his legend.<br><br>"Onneca dear add a bit of pepper to the chicken and check the artichokes while I finish chopping these up...unless of course Christian intends to swipe more," she gave a smile to the man then looked at Onneca fully and her eyebrows arched.<br><br>"Onneca de Goni, where have you been hiding that dress. I so do want one, can you do it in silk as well as cotten," she had stopped and actually walked around the smaller woman her fingers caressing the dress and looking it over with a practiced eye. "I think I will partake of that offer you made to me last year, and let you make a dress out of that lovely fabric you showed me that you said was perfect for me," Elisabeth nodded and stepped back to chop the food.<br><br>It was then that Agatha walked in and hugged Onneca closely. Elisabeth's green eyes met Christian's as she arched an eyebrow wondering if he caught the hug and that Agatha had not done the same with her...<br><br>"I am not slaving away in your kitchen Agatha but it has been some time since I last helped with a meal, normally I dine out at one of the local eateries. The chicken smells lovely but a tad bit of pepper would enhance it and give it a bit more spice. I also brought Strawberries from the green house, the plants are doing great after your help and Onneca's. So I figured desert would be strawberries and honey with a wine. I also have a bottle of white wine from Paris that father sent me."<br><br>She waved the knife at Agatha as the woman took Onneca's bag, and motioned her head at the lovely olive skinned woman, "Onneca while Agatha takes your bag up, you can handle the skillet while I chop these up and add them in"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wulfspire</strong> on <strong>30-05-2013, 05:12:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/20/Christian_Bale_Cowboy_3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Christian Specter<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha, Elisabeth, Onneca<br><hr><br>“…unless of course Christian intends to swipe more,” Elisabeth had said as she smiled at him. That smile seemed like it could melt any man, any man but Christian it seemed. He just gave a small smirk and continued to chew on his carrot. <br><br>Christian most certainly saw the hug Agatha had given Onneca, and for a second he was incredibly jealous. Not because he wanted Agatha to hug him like that, or even because no one had ever hugged Christian like that, but because Onneca might be taking his family away. But, Christian was a stoic man and he was not about to let that get underneath his skin for long.<br><br>The new woman referred to him by the moniker he had been given, earned really, and his eyes narrowed, a glare beginning. Elisabeth stopped that stare, however, with the correction and little joke. Christian gave a small smile when she mentioned stories Agatha had told about him. Truth was, he never was a fan of, well, having fans. Being renowned throughout the southwest, in Christian’s experience, was dangerous and lonely. As a rule, it seemed men wanted to kill him just to take his reputation, and women steered clear of him for that reason. With Agatha, though, things were different. He liked being famous with her. Family always broke the rules.<br><br>The gals talked about dresses and getting all dolled up in them, and Christian just looked on. His dour face not reflecting the boredom they might have expected with others, just a calm patience and a troubled mind. The Man in Black, his long quest to find the bastard that killed his family, that tore him from his home, that turned him into a machine that existed simply to gun one man down, poured through his thoughts. <br><br>What Christian did not think about, never thought about, was what he was going to do when he finally tracked him down, if he ever tracked him down, and put the Man down. Would he go home, to Texas, and rejoin his family? Would they even have him back if he did? Would he stay in Gomorra? Did he have a reason to, aside from Agatha? Those questions merely flitted at the back of mind, never being graced with purpose or cognitive presence.<br><br>His self-obsession wearing off a moment, he looked to Onneca and Agatha and nodded. The girl seemed to make his flame-haired vixen happy. If that was the truth, that would be all Christian needed to approve. Onneca apparently knew of Christian’s reputation, so no need to go about delivering veiled threats if she ever hurt his little Aggy. If she knew who he was, he did not need to say those words allowed. The fact that she did not seem intimidated by his presence spoke volumes to him of what Agatha meant to the Mexican woman, and that meant more to him than any words she might have spoken. <br><br>To voice his approval of their relationship, or eventual relationship, he looked to Elisabeth, motioned to the two of them with a tilt of his head, and nodded. “I see what you mean,” spoke the harsh, rumbling voice of Christian Specter. That was all the needed saying, and that was all he said.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>01-06-2013, 04:55:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Elisabeth, Agatha, Christian<br><hr><br>Onneca was at her happiest when she was returning Agatha's hug with a chaste peck to the cheek, and modestly modeling her new dress, and letting her mind swarm with ideas for dressing Elisabeth up. It was the warmest welcome she could've hoped for. "Buenas noches, Christian." It was slightly different, the word she used, <em>buenas- </em>but only to a trained ear. She never offered any correction, because she'd been raised to be polite. She pinched the creamy cloth of her dress with both hands and gave a little lift with a bow of her knees, because she'd been raised to curtsy. "I am happy to meet you."<br><br>She was not sure what to think of him, and he was not sure what to make of her. The masculine thing to do would be to man up, to puff out one's chest and stand by the caliber of one's virtues. Onneca, though, was achingly feminine. She would not make it easy on Christian, and to the Mexican tailor, he was equally inscrutable. Most men were.<br><br>Doing as bid came naturally to her, and though there was certainly a shaker of ground pepper bounding around the kitchen, Onneca preferred to do things with love, slowly, so they could be appreciated. Whatever difference in taste existed between shaker pepper and freshly ground pepper was for the masters to decide. There was a difference, though, in her investment in the final product, and how sweet it would be as a result of her work. She was a hard worker. A good wife, by the traditional measure of things, and that fact never went unnoticed by the matchmakers of Gomorra. It was a blessing to have just one of them, the implacable Lady Boyle, in her corner.<br><br>Firm little black peppercorns jingled into one of Aggy's mortars, a firm nonporous bowl for grinding ingredients down to paste, invaluable for cooks and chemists and apothecaries alike. This one, if she remembered right, had been handed down during a gift exchange. It wasn't a giving of gifts, exactly, but a swapping around of unneeded things that was tradition since the days of the pilgrim settlers. <em>Do you already have one? </em>someone had asked, and they might find it ridiculous that between the three women there were easily a dozen different mortar and pestles. The ones that ground down verdigris in Aggy's shop could not be used to produce pepper. The ones Elisabeth used to powder the leaves for her delicate teas would not be the same once they'd been touched by the strong spices of Onneca's kitchen. A woman understood these things. <br><br>The pepper crackled down between mortar and pestle, releasing a faint, hot scent of the stuff in its freshly ground state. It was a different scent from regular pepper, a crisp and fresh scent, with a hint of scorched coriander or popcorn on the verge of popping. "Si, we can get some silk," she said. The bodega was increasingly a <em>we </em>as she hired on the help of fellow seamstresses and weavers, a helper to run the counter, an apprentice tailor. Onneca kept her gentle hand in it, though, much like she had her hand in the cooking, prepping the spice, doting over the skillet. "Only it does not breathe. You will be hot in it."<br><br>The skillet was several times hotter than the California sun as Onneca worked over it. Too hot to continue to wear the multicolored rebozo all swaddled from her cleavage to her throat, and so she let it unravel down her arms, and allowed her tanned sternum to release some heat. "The silk can be loose for air to move through, or the dress can be very low in the back. It is a little daring." She kept her back to the kitchen, her slender hips physically against the front of the stove, perhaps having second thoughts about the plunging neckline she'd chosen. "But, there is a very soft linen maybe you will like instead. This is maybe what I showed you before, si? It is golden ivory, very sheer."<br><br>She gave her arm a rub as the fact of the matter hit her. "It will be difficult to make the golden ivory," she admitted, "if there is trouble in the Maze. The fibers must stay and soak in the water." But this was not the time for politics, and so that was all she said on the matter.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>03-06-2013, 01:29:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5a/Agatha-avi.jpg) </div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Elizabeth, Christian, Onneca <br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The gentle brush of soft lips on cheek made Agatha smile.&nbsp; Onneca’s happiness reflected in Agatha’s emerald eyes.&nbsp; For the better part of the last two months Agatha had been sorting through her feelings for Onneca and a week ago something that happened made her realize she did not want to be alone anymore.&nbsp; She had told no one about it, not even Elizabeth and certainly not Onneca.&nbsp; It was her own little secret, held tightly to her breast like a long lost child. But the clarity of her desire had brought about its own complication.&nbsp; How could she tell her longest and best friend what she felt?&nbsp; What if she didn’t feel the same?&nbsp; Would they remain friends?&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha might have lingers a touch to long on the dark smiling eyes if not for Elizabeth.&nbsp; She managed to distract them both for the moment while Onneca modeled her wonderful creation, made more wonderful to Agatha’s eyes by the slender form it adorned.&nbsp; Agatha leaned over and placed her own light peck on the cheek of the beautiful English woman.&nbsp; “I do appreciate the help and the dessert.” She said with a smile, though politeness forbade her to mention the fact that a woman who dined out almost nightly might not be the best judge of the amount of seasonings for dinner.&nbsp; Well politeness and the fact that Elizabeth wouldn’t listen anyway.&nbsp; It was a trait she dearly loved in her friend.&nbsp; Elizabeth was implacable when her mind was set.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Spooky’s rumbling voice caught her attention as she turned to leave.&nbsp; It was a part of the conversation she must have missed when she was upstairs, which she reminded herself was where she should be at the moment.&nbsp; “Dinner should be ready once those are done.” She said, “I will return shortly.”&nbsp; Agatha left the room to take Onneca’s bag upstairs to place it next to Elizabeth’s on the large locked trunk at the end of the bed.&nbsp; It was strange thinking that the woman she felt so much for would be sleeping in her bed tonight.&nbsp; It was not exactly how she envisioned it during those brief moments she allowed her mind to wander down that forbidden road, but it was probably for the best this way.&nbsp; It wasn’t that she felt she could not control herself, she was no barbarian.&nbsp; But if they were to sleep in the same bed and Onneca was to find out her feelings later how badly would she think of her.&nbsp; No it was best that she sleep downstairs where she could while away the hours working on one project or another.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Agatha returned downstairs listening with a smile on her face to the sounds of conversation in the kitchen.&nbsp; She stood in the doorway for a moment still unable to view the entirety of the creamy drape swaying from Onneca's willowy hips and plunging low along her breasts.&nbsp; “Why don’t you all find a seat at the table?&nbsp; Elizabeth if you would be so kind as to pour us some of your wine we can eat.”&nbsp; She said from her place by the door.&nbsp; As everyone filed out of the kitchen she waited for Spooky to pass and asked him, “What does who mean?” she had heard his earlier comment but was completely oblivious to the conversation that had gone on minutes before Onneca’s arrival.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>14-06-2013, 19:47:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i1217.photobucket.com/albums/dd394/Vithe_rothe/Doomtown/doomtown003_zps4f74c1bd.jpg)</div> <br><br><br><strong>Name:</strong><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"> <span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">Lady Elisabeth Boyle</span></span><br><strong>Faction:</strong> Member of the Collegium.<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's house<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha, Onneca, Christian<br><hr> <br><br>Elisabeth finished the veggies as Agatha took Onneca's bag upstairs and with the lovely Hispanic's help she got the dinner table organized and dishes out. She had always been able to bring order from chaos from small things to larger. Her shoppe was always perfectly organized and spotless when ever anyone came in, which was why by the time Agatha came downstairs dinner was ready. <br><br>Elisabeth motioned for Onneca to set across from her and for Christian to take the head of the table and Agatha opposite him. Normally that set up would be standard but there was more to it then normal. She had made sure that the two women that clearly pinned for each other sat beside the other. She wanted them to get over the tension each often had when being close to the other, as if they were afraid of what a single touch might reveal.<br><br>She reached for Agatha's hand as they all sat down, her free one patting the top of the other woman's in a sign of support and assurance, she then took Christian's hand, feeling the rough callouses and strength with her long deft red nail fingers, "Onneca would you say Grace for us?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wulfspire</strong> on <strong>17-06-2013, 01:47:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/20/Christian_Bale_Cowboy_3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Christian Specter<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha, Elisabeth, Onneca<br><hr><br><em>The gal seems nice enough. </em>Christian thought as Onneca greeted him in her tongue.<em> Polite and timid. Friends with Aggy for a long time, too. That’s a good thing. </em>Instead of speaking, he gave her a nod of his head, since his hat was off already. It was not rudeness or the ever present gruffness that kept him from responding. This was a situation he had no experience with, and it caused him to be very cautious with every action. <br><br>The last time he was in the company of this many women for dinner turned out to be a very intense, very violent night. Christian did not expect to see much blood this evening though. No, tonight was promised to be at least a touch more pleasant, as no one was looking at him with that vicious, cruel hunger.<br><br>Agatha stopped him on his way out to the table, to find out what he was inferring by his comment. He had hoped she had not heard. He glanced Onneca’s way, his frozen, cold blue eyes staring after her a moment before turning back to Agatha. That same sapphire glare had caused grown men to piss themselves, but for Agatha she knew concern, hope, and love made home in that stare. <br><br>“Ya know, Aggy, despite being the bravest damn person I ever knew,” he rumbled quietly, trying to make it so only she could hear him, “you can be quite the yeller coward sometimes.” He leaned to give her a soft peck on the cheek, whispering further, “They call this fast country, cause life is fast, and short. Don’t let it pass ya by.”<br><br>He leaned away, “Thanks for dinner, Aggy,” Christian said loud enough for all to hear, “Love ya kiddo.”<br><br>He took his place at the table Elisabeth provided, giving her the barest of smiles and a nod. He appreciated the respect she showed him. It was not out of fear, as most, but she showed him respect simply for being a human being. Social grace was hard to find for a man like Christian Specter. When he did, he had a hard time walking away.<br><br>Elisabeth asked Onneca to pray for them, and Christian’s brow furrowed. It was highly irregular, at least in Christian’s experience. But, this was neither his home, nor his church. Anyone that damn well pleased could say Grace, Christian decided. <em>Besides, Spook, you’re a damned killer. What place’ve you got talkin’ ta God?</em><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>20-06-2013, 10:59:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Elisabeth, Agatha, Christian<br><hr><br><br>Onneca quietly took Christian's hand on one side, and Agatha's on the other as she sat down at the table. Like many devout Catholics, she could sense God. That was the name for the joy that sometimes swelled into her heart such that her breath might come out in a shudder of ecstasy, and it was the name for the duty she felt as a responsible woman to do what was right. She could feel the Lord with them there, on that night, and not only in herself but in everyone. She took a breath of dinner and the friends who had helped make it, gave Agatha's hand the lightest of squeezes, and everything was perfect. Onneca knew everything that she was thankful for.<br><br>"Bless us, oh Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord..." she intoned with unapologetic Spanish inflection. It was Catholic grace, and quite standard, up until it swerved into Irish territory. "...may the longtime sun shine upon us, and all love surround us, and the sweet light within us guide us on our way." It was not something recited except in the most Irish of churches, for it represented the most hated of all America's hated inferior white races, the unhirable Irish. But Onneca loved Aggy, and every part of her, and so she had learned it in her most perfect unbroken English. "Amen."<br><br>Her hands moved away to perform the motion of the cross, from brow to navel, and to each shoulder in turn. There had been a time, here in Gomorra, where Onneca had been to church every service. She had believed that she need only endure the scorn, and be present and proper several times each week, and she would grow on the old women there like moss on a tree. But each time she had opened her mouth to join in the psalms, the people around her had gone silent and made her foreigner's voice embarrassingly disjointed from the unity of the congregation. Only a few times did anyone ever speak to her after the service, and only out of pity. And the crowds, the crowds were consistently too much to handle. She was always nervous, and sweating, and trembling in her seat like a drug addict. So she had cut back to once a week at first, and then it was every other week. It was when she went missing that the old women really began to gossip, more than if she'd never gone at all. She had stopped going to church, but she had never stopped giving.<br><br>She gave a dimpled smile to Aggy, and then to Christian and Elisabeth. It wasn't often that Onneca had a sit-down dinner, and she was positively glowing for the opportunity.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>23-06-2013, 21:02:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5a/Agatha-avi.jpg) </div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3rd 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Onneca, Elizabeth, Christian<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Agatha was dumbstruck at Christian’s words and her mouth hung open for a second when he kissed her on the cheek and walked away to the dinner table.&nbsp; A million thoughts raced through Agatha’s head and that was saying something considering her agile mind was always racing.&nbsp; For her to be flummoxed by Christian’s simple words was a first.&nbsp; She mumbled niceties as everyone passed by her into the living room until Elizabeth walked by with a gleam in her eye that made everything click.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha’s green eyes narrowed slightly.&nbsp; She should have known.&nbsp; Elizabeth wasn’t the type to let things sit and work themselves out.&nbsp; When she believed in an outcome she did her best to nudge the players in her game in the “right” direction, regardless of resistance.&nbsp; She had been doing so for some time now and while Agatha loved her for her support and understanding, Miss Boyle would be downright pushy at times.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;It was the first time she had a full table.&nbsp; She had shared meals with Onneca and Elizabeth before that was nothing new, but with Spooky there her table was set with all of her friends.&nbsp; The room was warm from cooking and smelled of lovingly tended dishes.&nbsp; Agatha took a moment to survey the scene as she stood with her dexterous fingers curled over the back of her chair.&nbsp; She looked to each of the faces present.&nbsp; Elizabeth, no truer a friend a woman could wish for, strong-willed, intelligent and beautiful.&nbsp; Spooky, Brooding and dark, but loyal and gentle under his gruff demeanor and then there was Onneca.&nbsp; Onneca de Goni, kind and caring, smart and humble, her friendship was a treasure Agatha held dearest in her heart.&nbsp; Onneca’s smile lite up the room when it dimpled and her gentle touch made countless women in Gamorra beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as she was in Agatha’s eyes.&nbsp; The faces around the table made Agatha’s eyes misty with emotion as she took her place at the end of the table.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Agatha was overcome with the warm fuzzies of friendship and the love she held for all of them.&nbsp; She didn’t even get annoyed when Elizabeth jumped in to the hostess roll Agatha had temporarily abandoned in her state and instead took her hand was a squeeze to let her know how much she appreciated her presence.&nbsp; Agatha’s pale hand cupped Onneca’s and she felt the gentle squeeze she returned in kind.&nbsp; Her eyes flickered once to meet the beautiful Mexican’s eyes filled with the love she felt before they gently closed and she bowed her head in prayer.&nbsp; Only a heathen who’s eyes remained open during grace would have seen the smile that touched her lips at Onneca’s spoken prayer.&nbsp; Her fingers a gentle caress against the delicate hand resting in her own, to show that they had been heard and appreciated.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; “Amen.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>25-06-2013, 05:43:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i1217.photobucket.com/albums/dd394/Vithe_rothe/Doomtown/doomtown003_zps4f74c1bd.jpg)</div> <br><br><br><strong>Name:</strong><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"> <span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">Lady Elisabeth Boyle</span></span><br><strong>Faction:</strong> Member of the Collegium.<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's house<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha, Onneca, Christian<br><hr> <br><br><br>Elisabeth seldom missed much in a close social setting, maybe it was all the ones she attended in her youth with her father or uncles. Maybe it was just the way the English learned to handle things. Maybe it was just the way she was. And since she did not often miss much she had heard Agatha asking Christsan about what she had said and she saw the whispered comment Christian gave to Agatha then her look of dumb struck momentray comical look that came across Agatha's face. It was clear it took even the active, well normally hyperactive, mind of one Agatha Dunwich a few heartbeats to readjust then the look she gave Elisabeth was priceless. A mixture of 'oh my god' ....'how dare you'... 'don't tell Onncea' all mixed up, of course the reason she liked Agatha so much was that active mind that quickly smoothed her expression so that by the time she had sat at the table her expression was very close to normal. Save when she gazed over at Onneca.<br><br>After grace was finished, that Onneca added in a non standard Latin part which did not go unnoticed, Elisabeth made sure to fix a plate for Christian since he was closer to her then he was to Agatha. As they began to eat, "Agatha the food is delicious and the house as always looks great. I do have a request though. The other day I strained my back and I need to sleep in a very special posture and with an extra bit of padding. I do hope you do not mind if I use the bed in the small room it would be much better for me over all." She turned to Christian, "Christian, you are wondering why you are being set upon by a gaggle of females, I am sure. Well I am sure you heard of Sherriff Colemans murder and today Professor Hardinger from the Collegium of which I belong as does Agatha now, stopped by our morning tea and had some very interesting things to say <em>...&lt;being frank to the gunman about what was said by the professor about the possible problems for members from Bilton and Sweetrock without going into 5 paragraphs&gt;</em>... personally I think Professor Hardinger did not tell us everything. He is after all part of the town council and I think he found out some things that very much concerned him."<br><br>Elisabeth had made sure to refresh the wine as well as dine as she described for Christian what had been discussed. Then sat back to listen as the others discussed things. She hoped the subtle seed she dropped about the town needing a tough sheriff even if only for a short time would take root without any extra nudging from her. After all she doubted even Nash Bilton would want to face off against 'Spooky Spencer' and they needed someone to oppose Bilton. Hopefully with nudges from Margeurite with Nathan Hunter they could offer up a very strong ticket of Spencer and Hunter or Hunter and Spencer. Christian would not have stay around long maybe 3-5 months and the benefits of being a lawman should even bee seen by him.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>05-07-2013, 03:20:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Dinner Time<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Elisabeth, Agatha, Christian<br><hr><br><br>This was Agatha's house in the way that the church was God's house; everyone who came to visit still did as the preacher directed. Elisabeth, then, was the preacher, and Onneca was wise to the ways of the Lady Boyle. Almost a year ago now Agatha had introduced them. What was it she said? <em>I have a friend who would love to join us. It will be fun. </em>And she was fun, her keen and wicked mind, her confidence as she steered a dangerous conversation like a bullfighter directing a rampaging brute with a mere silk scarf. She was an artist and a very good woman to know. Onneca's hands were clasped to her knees beneath the table, a girlish smile on her face as she listened to Elisabeth recall the morning's events. There was a unique perspective to that keen mind, colored by the way she wanted things to happen- the way that she seemed to be able to make things happen.<br><br>Maybe Christian would never have imagined himself as sheriff. Onneca would never have envisioned herself opening up to Elisabeth about enjoying the company of women. Question after question, she had been so endearingly interested, as though the Lady Boyle were doing research for a dime novel. <em>What attracts one woman to another? Are any of the saloon girls your type? How do you know whom will be on the bottom and whom on top? </em>Each new layer of personal revalation built on the last, until there came a morning over tea when she was describing the things enterprising young women had done to her. Elisabeth had been there, and Agatha, and she had been embarrassed, but as long as it was just the three of them, then it was alright.<br><br>But it was not just the three of them. Her rarely brave eyes were on Christian and trying to gauge his thoughts on Elisabeth's news. A spoonful of soup paused over her bowl, watching Spooky like a nervous trail hand watches a rattler, she was getting nothing at all from him. Men were a mystery to Onneca, and cowboys doubly so. They did not come into the bodega very often. There had been one cowboy named Elijah, who had hung around the bodega while he was new in town and looking for work. He had made the hearts of the married ladies race with a cheeky smile and he had followed Onneca around like a puppy, but he was really more of a large boy than a man. He wasn't like Onneca's father, who was her definition of a man, nor like Christian, who was at least a synonym.<br><br>She dipped forward to claim the soup from her spoon. Every time she did, her olive-toned cleavage crowded to escape the plunging neckline of her puebla. The tailor was accustomed to the company of women. "Mm, <acronym title="Very good">muy bien</acronym>," she cooed. A little wine, and obstacles seemed surmountable. A little more, and she realized that if Agatha and she had grown up together, then Christian must be a sort of brother to her. She stared a little less, and her rebozo was being tugged all around her body, but never where it ought to be. Another half a glass, and she forgot her manners and remembered all the things she wanted from the world. "I have not read the book yet," she remembered, "the one you both are in. We should read it together, si? <acronym title="Story time">La hora del cuento</acronym>."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>07-07-2013, 02:38:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/b/b8/Aggy-Closeup.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Onneca, Elizabeth and Christian<br><hr><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha’s hand lingered just a moment longer in Onneca’s before the object of her affection retrieved hers to make the sign of the cross.&nbsp; She looked over the table to smile at Christian wondering who at the table was more uncomfortable he or Onneca.&nbsp; As the food began to be passed she realized just how hungry she was.&nbsp; Food wasn’t cheap in Gamorra and the feast in front of them represented a decent wage for many.&nbsp; It was not going to go to waste tonight and neither was the wine Elizabeth provided.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Elizabeth’s compliment brought a thank you to her lips and a sweet smile to show her appreciation of the thoughts and for serving a plate for Christian, her eyes did widen at Elizabeth’s request for the second bedroom.&nbsp; It was a masterful stroke by her friend.&nbsp; As a good hostess Agatha could not deny Elizabeth her request and in doing so could not very well have Christian sleep in the same room as Onneca.&nbsp; She had only one couch fit for sleeping and that left only one possibility.&nbsp; She would be sharing her bed with Onneca tonight.&nbsp; Her eyes flickered to her beautiful friend sipping the delicious soup, her plunging puebla made Agatha swallow hard, but she kept her smile.&nbsp; She had promised herself that she would tell Onneca.&nbsp; She just hadn’t thought it would be tonight.&nbsp; Agatha nodded her accent to Elizabeth and maybe would make one final plea before turning in.&nbsp; If Elizabeth would not listen she would tell Onneca, before they were in bed.&nbsp; If Onneca was uncomfortable with her revelation she would find a warm chair downstairs to curl up in and cry herself to sleep.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Agatha took a long pull off of her wine glass.&nbsp; It was a move more suited for a shot of Irish whiskey than a fine wine, but it served its purpose as the heat of the alcohol warmed the edges of her brain.&nbsp; Agatha was too busy processing and passing dishes to fully hear Elizabeth’s description of the political climate of Gamorra.&nbsp; Once her course set and the wine was flowing she was able to focus her mind again on the conversation.&nbsp; Agatha knew that Spooky would need time to process the information.&nbsp; In the mean time she spent the dinner making idle chat with her friends.&nbsp; It had an ease that she normally did not with others around town.&nbsp; Here with friends her less serious side could show.&nbsp; She was apt to tease and comment and her humor could dip into the risqué especially once into her cup some and tonight she had no intention of staying completely sober.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; It took Agatha a moment to recognize what story Onneca had been referring to.&nbsp; “Ohh, that story.” She said with a nod.&nbsp; Agatha did not share Onneca’s love of penny dreadfuls, but the man who had written it had been kind enough to mail her a copy.&nbsp; “I believe I have a copy of it in my bedroom.” She thought out loud.&nbsp; I am sure I can find it after dinner of you would like.” She offered.&nbsp; The story wasn’t very accurate, but in many ways Agatha wished it to be a truer rendition of the actual events.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>24-07-2013, 15:06:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha<br><hr><br>The door was left ajar as Onneca changed into her nightclothes at the foot of Agatha's bed. It was an allowance for something to happen, and there'd been many allowances like it through the years. It remained one of the few chances they had to capture what seemed to be slipping away all the time. She left the door ajar like a string dragged across a cat's paw, but knew deep down that Agatha was too polite to ever barge in. Onneca had read too many stories where an uncouth woman walked in on bared breasts, and purred sweet nothings to the heroine, and laid her down on rose petals and kissed her neck until she cried out. But this was just a lonesome bedroom, with the sound of rustling cloth echoed back at her.<br><br>Olive-toned arms stretched out into her chemise, floor-length and breathable linen with visible seams and fabric that let the warm color of her skin be hinted. It was a fabric made for indoors, as outside in the mesa sun, it would become all but transparent. Shiny, bountiful hair shook out down her back, and the whole room became subtly infused with jasmine perfume and the mouth-watering oils she used in her hair. Her nightclothes were always an excuse to hunch her shoulders, curl her back, and bring her knees up to her chest. There was a feeling of delicacy, of vulnerability, that she was no longer a woman fit to handle the hard business of the day, but a sheltered flower. Now she was in Agatha's bedroom, and it was Agatha sheltering her. It felt nice.<br><br>Once her puebla and rebozo were neatly hung on the outside of the wardrobe, Onneca sat down on the bed and ran her hands across the quilt her backside dimpled. It was much larger than her own bed, comfortably large enough for two, or perhaps a whole prairie family during the cold winter months. Her bare heels bumped gently on the trunk Agatha kept tightly locked, and the solid sound and weight she encountered told her that something significant was inside. She had never really thought about it, or why Agatha had kept it locked; a woman was entitled to her privacies. Little mind was paid the trunk until the rhythmic tap of her foot elicited the rattling clunk of something settling inside. Onneca brought her legs up onto the bed, and tried not to disturb anything more.<br><br>Her dark hair fanned out across a pillow once she'd slipped off the necklace of her conquistador crucifix. Her heart was thumping low as she lay on her side, only exaggerating the curve of her hip, and watched the hallway through the gap in the door. "Aggy," she called sweetly, "When we were little, I thought maybe I was the one protecting you. Now I am not so sure."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>24-07-2013, 15:51:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5a/Agatha-avi.jpg) </div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha’s Bedroom<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Onneca, Closed<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha had finished putting her house to bed.&nbsp; The doors were locked and windows shuttered to keep the Gomorran night at bay.&nbsp; She had made sure all of her guests were comfortable, well…all but one.&nbsp; She had lingered with Christian and Elizabeth, who adamantly refused to reconsider her decision.&nbsp; Her English friend had good intentions, but Agatha wasn’t sure if her timing wasn’t just the least bit off.&nbsp; &nbsp;The lamps in her home were blown out one by one.&nbsp; Her home had electricity, but it had to be used sparingly and she had come to enjoy the soft glow of lamplight at night.&nbsp; She quietly ascended the stairs, the only light coming from her room, a beacon of warmth calling her.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Agatha paused for a moment at the top of the stairs and drew in a deep breath letting it out slowly to calm her suddenly racing heart.&nbsp; There was still time to reconsider, to go on as if nothing had changed though everything had.&nbsp; No, Onneca would know.&nbsp; She always knew when something was bothering Agatha, she always had.&nbsp; She took a step forward and another and before she knew it she was standing in front of her bedroom door her hand reaching for the knob when she stopped herself.<br><br>&nbsp; <em>&nbsp; ‘What if she is still changing?’</em> She thought, her eyes drifting towards the sliver thin line of light from the door, a mischievous part of her wanted to lean down and peak through the crack to see if she could catch the object of her affection en el desnudo as they had the young boys in the rail camp when they had been bathing down by the river.&nbsp; &nbsp;She knew she could never do it, not to Onneca and instead raised her hand intending to rap lightly on the door.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; "Aggy, when we were little, I thought maybe I was the one protecting you. Now I am not so sure."<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Onneca’s honeyed voice called to her before her hand fell.&nbsp; That voice wrapped Agatha in its embrace and made her feel all warm inside.&nbsp; She could not help but smile and push the door open slipping inside.&nbsp; She averted her eyes for a moment to be sure Onneca was comfortably clothed. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “How did you know I was there?” She asked, her eyes flickering upwards under heavy lashes to gaze on the vision that lay comfortably on her bed.&nbsp; Her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat.&nbsp; She was so beautiful.&nbsp; Agatha's gaze was broken by one of the posts of the bed as she walked around to the foot of it, setting an extra blanket down on the truck in case the night turned chilly.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“You did protect me.” She said warmly, thinking of their childhood together. “I would have gotten in no end of trouble without.” She said sitting on the end of the bed, her comfortable dinner dress still swirling around her legs.&nbsp; Agatha turned to look over her shoulders, her face framed by the coppery hair she had let down once dinner was complete.&nbsp; Olive ankles peaked out of her night clothes slowly wiggling against the quilted bedding.&nbsp; Her eyes trailed over her gauzy hips darkened where the fabric lay against dusky skin before meeting Onneca’s smiling face and deep dark eyes.&nbsp; Again it was impossible for Aggy not to smile.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“You will always be safe with me Onny.” She said lying back on her bed, her feet and legs dangling over the side were Onneca’s had been and her head looking up at the richly engraved would that topped the canopy of her bed before turning to her body around so that she was propped up on her side her head resting in her hand looking into her best friend's eyes. “I wouldn’t want to think about living my life another moment without you in it.” She said with an honesty she had only admitted to herself. Perhaps that was not what Onneca had meant, but it didn't make it any less true.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>24-07-2013, 20:27:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's Bedroom<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha<br><hr><br><em>How did you know I was there? </em>"I hoped that you were," she answered. Onneca was enjoying the largeness of the bed, that was clear; while she often laid on her own bed neatly aligned into a pillar, her slender arms cradled to her body like her madre had rest in her coffin, in this bed she was languid and stretched. It was difficult to even think of it as a bed, but more as a communal pile of softness like Shan Fan's molassas-slow opium dens. Enjoying the space and being beholden to her own pattering heart eventually resulted in her lying inverted to Aggy, an ouroboros of women in their nightclothes. Sometimes the interlocked cycle felt like Onneca retreating and Agatha pursuing, and sometimes the opposite. It had been this way for years.<br><br>She kept turning her eyes away from Aggy's, and smiling, and looking back. It was a dimpled smile that was always changing to reflect a joy that threatened to come giggling to the surface. But this was a quiet moment, and the quiet moments in Gomorra were so very quiet. The clinking of glasses at the saloon was far away now, the rough din of Sodom practically on another world, the hum of machines that surrounded the Consortium unheard. Sometimes there seemed to be a hum of energy at Aggy's home, but its pulse was still now. Onneca could only hear the breathing of her friend, the rustle of the mesa wind through the leaves, the lonesome vibrating call of a few lonesome California cicadas.<br><br>"I feel I am safe." Her slender body heaved a big sigh. "When I am with you and Elisabeth, I am safe. I can talk to you about my...unnatural feelings." The softness of the foot of the bed had yet to be broken in the way the middle was, and it crushed her bosom when she rolled onto her tummy to trace whorls on the blanket atop the trunk. But then, the firmness wasn't so different anyplace on Onneca's side, as it had never fully been broken in. This was a two-person bed enjoyed by one woman. Had Agatha had plans with it? Did she simply enjoy stretching out?<br><br>"When I came to California, it was not to open the bodega. I had lost someone because I was too afraid. When I came to California to find her, it was too late. She did not make it, out here. I did." Over her shoulder she peeked at Aggy. "I was very alone until I found you. I wanted to tell you that. And, that I do not want to make the same mistake two times." She flustered to enunciate more precisely what she meant. There was a line that was very difficult to cross, made of fire, and she heated intensely the closer she got. It was a mercy she was not beneath the covers. "Not because I think you will die, but...you have a big bed, and handsome male friends, and now the Collegium. I am afraid you will marry."<br><br>Too hot, much too hot. She had to backpedal from the topic, feel the cool air again, soak herself in cold water. "I want to join the Collegium with you, so we can work together."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>24-07-2013, 20:51:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/b/b8/Aggy-Closeup.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Onneca<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha unsuccessfully stifled a snicker or two watching Onneca wiggle, shimmy and practically ooze along her bed.&nbsp; It was a joy to watch her so happy and for the first time Agatha’s bed felt full and her room warm.&nbsp; For the first time in what seemed like forever she felt home.&nbsp; How Agatha ended up staring at Onneca’s dainty feet she wasn’t really sure, but they looked soft and fragile and ohhh so very ticklish.&nbsp; She thought very much about wiggling her fingers along the graceful arch just to hear Onneca’s silvery laughter fill the suddenly quiet Gomorran night.&nbsp; &nbsp;Onneca’s furtive smiles in the stillness were absolutely adorable and her hazel eyes would meet Agatha’s dancing green.&nbsp; With each glance her smile would widen as her heart filled a little more with happiness.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“Unnatural feelings?&nbsp; I don’t think anything about you is unnatural.” Agatha said softly watching the beautiful woman in her bed…in her bed…roll onto her stomach exposing the olive pads of her soles to the ever tempted fingers of the languishing redhead. Aggy had rolled to her side and propped her head up with her hand so she could watch the object of her desire explore the softness of the bed and the warm glow of the hardened maple.&nbsp; Onneca’s gossamer nightgown was bunched from her movements to reveal supple olive calves, strong from kneeling and stooping to measure and fit, a lifetime making others beautiful when it was Onneca that was the true beauty of her shop.&nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha’s eyes followed the line of the back of Onneca’s calves to the gentle mound who’s soft part was hinted at by the way her gown followed its pleasing contours.&nbsp; Her vision slipped along the small of her back to the rippling black hair that fell across her shoulders.&nbsp; Agatha’s gaze settled on the long slender digit tracing along the trunk that held some of the most intimate details of the young inventor.&nbsp; She could almost feel the tip tracing over her as it did her secret box.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha listened quietly, only taking her eyes off the hypnotic movements when she sensed Onneca looking at her again.&nbsp; There was profound sympathy and understanding in her eyes.&nbsp; While Onneca had come to California looking for the woman she loved, Agatha had been running for the memory of the woman she had lost.&nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha’s eyes filled with tears, she had come here tonight to confess her feelings to Onneca and for the briefest of moments she felt as if Onneca was to do the same.&nbsp; The smile that had begun to grow on her face grew confused and faded.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp;<em>‘No..nonono.’ </em>&nbsp; She thought, shaking her head, sending little coils of copper locks bobbing about her face and shoulders.&nbsp; “No, not married.&nbsp; Never married.” She said quickly and stopped stunned in surprise.&nbsp; “I…don’t…I…that is to say…um.&nbsp; I lost someone too.”&nbsp; Agatha said finally not sure where to start. “I thought that maybe I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone if people thought…that I...” She shook her head again trying to start over.&nbsp; “I do not wish to share my bed with a man.” She spoke the words softly.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;For a moment Agatha was quiet and brushed away the hair from her eyes so that she could look at the woman she had fallen in love with.&nbsp; “Oh, Onneca.&nbsp; Why do you think I come to your bodega each day? I can sew a stitch, you know.” She admitted with an exasperated laugh at herself.&nbsp; Agatha was sure she sounded a fool.&nbsp; She pulled her legs up breaking their circle and laid down on her stomach, their shoulders close enough to touch.&nbsp; Tentatively Agatha extended her hand to brush back a lock of Onneca’s hair wanting to hold her so badly.&nbsp; “I have fallen in love with you Onny and I have been so afraid to tell you.”&nbsp; Her eyes drifted from the lock of hair to her love’s eyes.&nbsp; There, it was out and she couldn’t pull it back in or tuck it away or deny it any more.&nbsp; “You don’t have to join the Collegium to be close to me.&nbsp; All you have to do is ask.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>26-07-2013, 13:34:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's Bedroom<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha<br><hr><br>Onneca touched her brow to Agatha's and shared just how feverish her blood boiled. She was shaking when she made contact, but slowly it started to subside, as though Aggy's arms were already around her, holding her tight. A tinny, whimpering breath drained out of Onneca before she had stopped shivering. It felt like the world should have changed with that admission, but a lifetime of alienation had done its damage. The shame was still there. "You were all I wanted," she admitted in a rally of her emotions to try to change things, to try and wither the shame. They were unnatural feelings, she knew, and one day Aggy would realize it too. "I am supposed to be your friend, but I want to hold you back. I want to hold you to me."<br><br>Bleary-eyed, she recalled the lake of fire those like her would be condemned for their sins, the lake of fire she might drag sweet Aggy along into. The tragic lessons of her pulp novels were learned well, and even an intelligent woman could be educated by a constant, unwavering message: <em>This is the price for sapphism. Corruption, heartbreak, murder-suicide. </em>There was no stopping herself. Her cheek rubbed to Agatha's in a tingling affection that felt like a slow prelude to a kiss. It wasn't a kiss that she wanted, but just to be held and comforted. She imposed herself in Agatha's arms, so that they could finish crying together.<br><br>There had been a kiss, once before. They had been ten or maybe eleven, too young to understand love, but too deeply connected not to feel something. Under the stars that peered down from the untamed sky onto the godforsaken progress of the railroad, they had shared their first experimental kiss, and all kisses since had been unfairly compared to that single heartfelt moment where they had communicated without words. Ever since, she had felt so alive and sensual under the stars, and she had taken every woman she had lain with out to gaze at the stars, but it was always Agatha there beside her.<br><br>"Mmh," Onneca whispered, her eyes lightly shut. "My heart, ah~!" Her face was pained, as all her years of strangled emotion uncorked and wanted to pour from her chest. So vulnerable to rejection, her breath left her in short gasps and she pressed herself jealously into Aggy's arms. A Victorian woman was meant to be conscious and protective of her curves, but Onneca pulled herself to Aggy as though she resented even having breasts. Everything was unfair. The world would be against them. There was more to say than she could ever express in her English vocabulary. And she realized, with a certain wistfulness, that it was exactly how it was in her lesbian dime novels. The ending had already been spoiled for her.<br><br>"I have loved you until it hurts me, Aggy."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>26-07-2013, 15:59:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/9a/Steam_baby-avi.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Onneca<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The words were some she so desperately wished to hear, but she could feel Onneca shrinking like a flower in the Gamorran sun.&nbsp; “You have always been my friend,” Agatha spoke softly her slender arms enfolding Onneca in their embrace.&nbsp; She let the angel in her bed rest her head against her breast and stroked her hair lightly, the silken strands dark as midnight against Agatha’s porcelain skin.&nbsp; “Even on my loneliest of nights I could look up at the stars and you would be with me.” So many nights she had lain under the stars on the run from her home, so many nights crying herself quietly to sleep.&nbsp; When her tears finished falling she would look up at the stars and think of better times, times under the sky with butterflies and flowers and stars and the little dark haired girl she had shared more of herself with than anyone after.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Quiet, salty tears anointing Onneca’s luminous hair and fevered brow where then fell.&nbsp; She heard the pain in Onneca’s voice and a little part of her died.&nbsp; She knew the harsh words and knew what they would face.&nbsp; The scorn, the shame, the cruelty, Agatha was willing to face it all if it was for Onneca, but could she ask her to do the same?<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The bittersweet pain Agatha felt was making her light-headed and dizzy and a little nauseous. Their gossamer night clothes felt uncomfortably hot pressed between them, the light fabric prickly next to her delicate skin.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“I have known the company of men twice.&nbsp; I thought that I could forget who I was, package it neatly away and be what my parents wished me to be, but I was wrong.&nbsp; I came to Gamorra and I hid.&nbsp; Until I walked into your bodega and I couldn’t hide anymore.”&nbsp; &nbsp;Tears streamed over cheeks flush from the truth rolling from her lips.&nbsp; “I tried.&nbsp; I thought that just being your friend would be enough, that I wouldn’t risk losing you if I just loved you from afar.”&nbsp; Once she started she couldn’t stop.&nbsp; There was so much she wanted to say, wanted to share.&nbsp; “Onneca, I lost someone once too and the thought of losing you scared me so much, but I can’t hide how I feel anymore.&nbsp; It fills me when I think of you and wants to burst from me when you are near.”<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha’s pulled Onneca close even as she should have been pushing her away, the pain in her pierced Agatha through the heart.&nbsp; For a moment she could do nothing but hold Onneca and let the tears fall.&nbsp; The moments of silence felt like an eternity as she found her voice and spoke gently in her lilting accented way. “Mi mariposa, no tiene que doler más,“ her voice so heavy with emotion she could barely speak above a whisper.&nbsp; “Te amo Onneca.”&nbsp; Her lips kissed the crown of Onneca’s head, holding her so she could feel the heart beating like a hummingbird in Agatha’s breast, just for her.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“Por favor, quédate.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>28-07-2013, 19:07:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's Bedroom<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha<br><hr><br>Hearing Aggy describe the way she had loved and lost made Onneca realize how many ways she could have lost the woman she had long ago fallen in love with. How lucky she was just to have this moment. Her hands clutched in Aggy's nightclothes and listening to the patter of a fully realized heart, listening to Spanish in the lilting whisper she had always wanted to hear it in, she could let the shame melt away and expose the vulnerable young lady beneath. She could visualize it trickling down her skin, thawed by Aggy's touch and her warming words. Her olive skin was too sensitive for these linens, and the splash of a tear on her clavicle could be felt down to the tiniest ray.<br><br><acronym title="I love you/I want you.">"Te amo. Te quiero mucho."</acronym> Agatha's nightclothes were pulled tight across the back as Onneca clutched, and the stuttered breath of a nervous, comforting laugh tickled across her rosy breast. It was a laugh of sweet relief, the way Onneca had laughed when they were little and barely escaped punishment, the way she had laughed once when her leg was stuck in the branches of a tree and she'd pulled herself free only after crying for mama de Goni. "You take the words I am too afraid to say, right from my heart. Every day when I open the bodega, I hope you come to see me. I hope you try on your dress, and tell me it is not perfect, so I can work on it some more. The days you do not come, I find a reason to come see you."<br><br>Her own heart found a rhythm with Aggy's, matching her beat for beat. If they were sharing the same thoughts, the same trembles, the same heartbeat, did they share the same desires? How much of Onneca's fantasy was born of racy penny dreadfuls and dime novels, and how much true to the heart? "I made the dress completely over again in secret. The first one was threadbare from so many times." Arms cradled around Aggy's flanks searched up for the nape of her neck under hair like electrified copper or molten gold, hair she had brushed until the strength left her arms. It was natural, then, that her lips pressed to Aggy's throat. "What must people think? <acronym title="Those women are crazy.">Esas dos mujeres están locas</acronym>."<br><br>There was certainty in her fingers as she led Aggy's hand to the unrestrained weight of her breast, felt through linen thin enough to hint the skin beneath. That soft perkiness, that hypnotic heft, it belonged to Agatha. With a little more exercise, a little more diet, she might have long ago reduced her bust to her slender shape and made life easier for herself, but she had not. They had been heavy and hot and uncomfortable, the scarlet letter she carried for Aggy. Her body was so sensitized that she drew a sharp intake of breath and gave a squirm even though she knew full well the touch was coming. Onneca was not ready for things to be taken to the next level- her nerves were too electrified, her emotions too raw, and if they made love right there on the shared canopy bed, it would be the single most intense and exhilarating experience of her life. It would be impossible to keep quiet from Elisabeth and Christian. It was such a bad idea, and that was what made it so incredible and white-hot in her mind.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>28-07-2013, 23:05:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/9a/Steam_baby-avi.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Onneca<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;A sob of happiness broke from Agatha at those words.&nbsp; Moments ago she had thought she was losing Onny.&nbsp; That she was slowly slipping through her fingers like sand and now she felt so solid so real.&nbsp; That tattered dress, worn and battered like the woman who had worn it into town a year ago and Onneca had mended it as she had mended Agatha’s heart.&nbsp; “You have my dress?”&nbsp; She asked a tiny squeak in her voice.&nbsp; It was a silly thing, her dress so inappropriate for California weather with its many petticoats and heavy bustle, but she had worn it like it was armor, heavy and protective.&nbsp; &nbsp;“Oh, Onny I…”<br>&nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha’s breath caught in her throat.&nbsp; Those feverish lips pressed against the smoothness of her neck stopped time.&nbsp; She couldn’t hear the ticking of her clock or the soft moan of wind across the mesa.&nbsp; The words on her lips died, leaving an apparition of a whimper buzzing against Onneca’s lips.&nbsp; Agatha’s long lashed lips closed as if sight would ruin the sensation of full pink lips along the muscles of her neck.&nbsp; &nbsp;The absence of sight heightened the moist press of flesh and flickering of fire along her neck where nervous, curious fingers played.&nbsp; Agatha was embarrassingly aware of how her body reacted to Onneca’s intimate touch.&nbsp; The warmth that filled her from head to toe, yet centered at the delta cloaked by thighs and gossamer, the quick and sudden stiffening of her nipples that if not for the crush of body against body would have been sharp and defined against her nightgown below the lacy neckline above which Onny’s beautiful lips played.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“I am used to being called loco.” Agatha finally spoke a light smile touching her lips at the murmured breath so hot against her.&nbsp; The room was hot now, but it had nothing to do with the temperature outside.&nbsp; She shivered against the light hum of Onneca’s words and smiled brighter at the hand that sought out her own.&nbsp; Her fingertips playing with Onneca’s, their hands so similar in form and function.&nbsp; Their fingers were long and dexterous, made for precise and delicate work and they were strong and a touch rough from the pricks of needles and turns of screws.&nbsp; They were perfectly shaped and molded to please the tender flesh they so wanted to touch and caress and tease.&nbsp; For only the briefest of instances did Agatha hesitate at the recognition of where Onneca was leading her. The fear of realizing what she so desperately wanted and the knowledge that they were not along in her home brought the moment of pause, but it was only a moment.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Agatha’s hand pressed into Onneca’s soft flesh, gathering and lifting as her fingers indented into that perfect mound.&nbsp; She wouldn’t have wished them to be smaller or larger, for Onneca to be stronger or slimmer.&nbsp; She was perfect in Agatha’s eyes as was the gentle flesh held lovingly in her hand.&nbsp; &nbsp;The undulating of Onneca’s body only increased her sensitivity and arousal and her arm tightened, her hand pressing against the small of Onneca’s back.&nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha forefinger brushed against engorged flesh that was pressed between then and her legs, unraveled from nightclothes rubbed together in a pillow of rumpled comforter.&nbsp; Agatha rolled the sensitive nub under her fingertip wanting Onneca to feel what she had only begun to express in words.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“I have wanted to feel you against me for so long.” She confessed her words thick with desire, her hand pressed against Onneca’s chest so she would lay once again flat against the bed.&nbsp; The smile that met Onneca’s eyes was radiant through the drying tears.&nbsp; The thin material of their bedclothes clung to their bodies leaving so little to the imagination. The warmth they shared dampening patches of thin nothingness to the point of transparency.&nbsp; Onneca’s heavy breasts starkly outlined by her gown drew Agatha’s eyes and her hand slowly drifted from one to the other to test and tantalize them.&nbsp; As if realizing what she was thinking her eyes flickered to Onneca’s face and in a sudden overwhelming need she pressed their lips together.&nbsp; &nbsp;It was nothing like their first tentative kiss, born out in that confusing time of youth, where innocence held none of the desires of adulthood.&nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha’s lips were full, yet her mouth tiny like a rosebud yet to fully bloom.&nbsp; Her lips were soft, caressed with balms to keep them moist and supple and eager.&nbsp; She explored Onneca’s lovely lips, a tiny moan escaping her own.&nbsp; She pecked and probed testing Onneca’s willingness, seeking an opening for her pink tongue to enter.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>29-07-2013, 11:51:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's Bedroom<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha<br><hr><br>Held lightly against the foot of the bed, Onneca instinctively responded to Agatha's prod for control. <em>How do you know whom will be on the bottom and whom on top? </em>Elisabeth had once asked her. She had thought about it too much, and given too flowery an answer, one that hadn't satisfied. The answer was that it was instinct. Her instinct instructed her arms to raise up over her head, through the silky fan of her dark hair, when Agatha's lovely fingers grasped at her. Over the edge of the bed, her fingers discovered the blanket atop the trunk, and dug in and buried to keep from shielding her tender flesh from Aggy's tweak. She was so very sensitive.<br><br>It was as intense as she knew it would be, and Agatha had only just begun to touch her. Pawing, groping fingers had just awakened her to receive pleasure, and the movement of the tinker's trained fingers from one trembling breast to the other started it all over again. Her heart was thumping, struggling around a buzzing tingle that filled her from navel to throat and made her fingers fret in the blanket. The second breast was her favorite, the more responsive and feeling, and she wasn't sure that she was ready for this. She wasn't. Her olive skin glistened as her muted writhing caused her nightclothes to expose more and more of her shy legs, her taut arms, the luscious globes that Agatha cupped. She had been holding her breath, and it all came out in a rush of Spanish: <acronym title="Go on and touch me">"Seguir y tócame."</acronym><br><br>Her native language left her mouth limber for the unexpected touch of Aggy's kiss. Yes, it was beautiful, and everything she'd waited for. The slow movement of her limbs felt like a flower unfurling on the comforter as her lips moved to caress Aggy's small, pouty pink mouth with her own. For all the times she'd glimpsed Aggy's nimble pink tongue, it was her first time feeling its strength and soft texture. Its gracious tease had Onneca's tongue pursuing, twirling ineffectively to grasp the retreating point. Not even the grasp of her lips around Aggy's lilting Irish tongue could hold onto the pleasing muscle. Onneca released a labored pant of breath that was a surrender to the idea of making love to Agatha. She was at her peak, so very wet and ready, and her sinful Latina arousal was crowding out the perfume on her skin. Her tanned thighs had given up on pinching tight around her heat, and they rose up in search of Aggy's body.<br><br>Even with a hundred needs at once, she was resolved to kiss Aggy until she was satisfied. It was impossible. Her tender mouth had yearned for Agatha for too long. Too many times she had heard the thoughts come from Aggy's beautiful mind through a lightly accented susurrus, and her bashful gaze had been drawn to the woman's expressive lips, just shy of meeting her gaze. Kissing Aggy was her obsession. Her nursing lips, her tickling tongue would not stray more than an inch, even as they shared the same breaths and became increasingly pink and flush in a delicate web of melty strings. The flat of Onneca's tongue collected a string from Agatha's lip in a moment of unrestrained homosexual lust. She realized a moment too late that she had painted a stripe across Agatha's mouth like some animal. Was that too much?<br><br>The answer seemed to come in the nuzzle of Aggy's lips at the corner of her mouth, asking for more. Onneca's submissive heart could not have asked for a more perfect reassurance. Finally, after so long, she was safe and home.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>29-07-2013, 15:49:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/9a/Steam_baby-avi.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's Bedroom.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Onneca<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Onneca’s urging spurred exploratory fingers, nimble and quick they teased and torments Onneca’s sweat flesh.&nbsp; Rough wrinkles pressed through the shear fabric under her fingertips drawing more attention and sensation.&nbsp; Months of dreaming about how Onneca’s skin would feel under her touch did nothing to prepare Agatha for the intensity of feeling.&nbsp; She was holding her hand on a flare and letting it burn. The subtle changes in the body opening beneath her drew instinctive reaction, a tightening of the abdominal oblique presenting one glorious breast a fraction higher than the other and fingers danced along darkened areola, her hands freed from the constraints of fear and worry explored slope, curve and mound.&nbsp; She could feel fine ribs taut against contorted skin seeking more contact and the pleasing curve where the gluteus minimus rolls across the back of the hip to form the edge of the rounded rear that drew the eyes swishing under layers of fine clothing she wished desperately to remove and fill with her hands and explore with her tongue.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha gasped, her breath stolen from her by the rough flat of Onneca’s tongue.&nbsp; Her lips buzzed with phantom vibrations left by the pink muscle drawn across them.&nbsp; From crown to navel they resonated, filling her body with wanton desire and a thirst that could only be sated by drinking from Onneca’s cup.&nbsp; The scent of the room changed as the heat that had built inside of Agatha spilled from within making her ready to receive Onneca’s caress. She shivered, feeling it coat her flower and warm the inner most point of her thighs.&nbsp; Agatha pursued Onneca’s fleeing tongue, her artful muscle sliding between lips that had moments before tried to catch.&nbsp; The touch was electric, rough wetness pressing against each other.&nbsp; They danced inside of her, twirling and diving and giving promise of what was to come.&nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha’s head was getting light, stars bursts dancing inside her eyeslids.&nbsp; She had to pull away, to breath in the heady, earthy air of the bedchamber and their lust.&nbsp; Even as she did she could feel her lips entrapping Onneca’s not wishing to be apart.&nbsp; She sucked indelicately pulling Onny’s lower lip away from her teeth before the stubborn tissue would allow it to come no further and parted.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Not to be denied Agatha’s lips allowed her one shuttering breath before they began their implacable journey along Onneca’s chin and neck. A slight shuffle to thighs and a moan escaped her throat. Agatha was coiled now hovering over the opening dahlia that was Onneca. The moan caressed the neck and warm breath washed over the tan collar beneath her.&nbsp; Agatha mouth was eager and searching.&nbsp; Lips pressing soft skin, a flicker of her tongue electric over goose pimpled skin.&nbsp; Her night clothes billowed out from her form where she hovered, the fullness of her breasts hanging away from her body as of being drawn by the gravity of the celestial body below her.&nbsp; They ached to be touched, to feel the moist warmth of lips and tongue drawn across them.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The curves and valleys of Onneca’s body lay before her gaze, two beautiful peaks revealed against the snowy white of a night shirt and the valley between them that lead to the bountiful plain of Onneca’s smooth taut belly.&nbsp; Agatha’s eyes mapped out the journey of her lips across that plain to the maple boughs of Onneca’s thighs, seeking a glimpse of the heart of her valley and her lips followed.&nbsp; Anything that would keep Agatha from her goal was disregarded.&nbsp; Even the idea of removing the night gowns that clung and bound to their bodies would be a pause she could not fathom.&nbsp; Her lips encircled the more sensitive of Onneca’s nipples, the cloth separating her tongue from the sensitive nub felt rough against the nimble muscle, but she did not care.&nbsp; She suckled and sucked at it through their clothing, taking it in her teeth to nibble in utter delight as her fingers clutched and curled Onneca’s night gown into them pulling the hem ever higher over her thighs and hips.&nbsp; Agatha lay half over Onneca her sweet lips exploring every inch of Onneca’s breasts, wanting to know what made her squirm with delight, to understand where her touch and caress gave the most pleasure. Was it how she kissed her neck or her collarbone? Was it the feathery touch of flingers along the underside of her breasts or the pressure of teeth digging into her nipple?&nbsp; Did she enjoy the feeling of fingers knotted and gripping in her hair as much as Agatha did?&nbsp; She wanted to know Onneca like no one had ever known her before and she desperately wanted Onneca to know her the same way.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;“Please touch me Onny.&nbsp; I can’t bear it anymore.&nbsp; I need you.”&nbsp; The earthy scent of her arousal permeated their bed as their Oroborus began to take shape and Agatha’s long legs stretch over the edge of the bed her breasts aligned so perfectly with Onneca’s lips.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>02-08-2013, 05:32:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Bedtime<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's Bedroom<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha<br><hr><br>What sort of woman caught scent of another woman's arousal and sought out the taste of her skin? Her mind rallied to fulfill Aggy's sexual need, and as her hands slipped from the self-imposed bondage under the blanket they traced the silkiness of legs that had gone lonesome over the edge of the bed. They were beautiful, and Onneca seldom had opportunity to see them. The caresses of her gentle fingers traveled slow down every inch from ankle to knee, and slowed further to adore every sensitive nerve from knee to thigh, lifting cloth and exposing skin as they went.<br><br>"Si." Her lips pressed to the skin of a breast just above where Agatha was pinched by the texture of her nightclothes. Her hands were consumed with the rhythm of ascending the woman's legs, and so she took the ruffled neck of Aggy's shift in the firm pinch of her pink mouth. The feel of fine linen, clasped delicately in lips sensitive to the tiniest detail, was familiar to a tailor with only two hands for her work. A kittenish tug brought the ruffle juddering down the curve of Aggy's breast, and with a catch and flick across the swollen nipple she had freed one single globe. The bunching of cloth was in front of her eyes, tickling her nose, and she could not see, though her panting mouth was so very sensitive to touch. The softness of an exposed breast slipped from her kisses and yielded against the slow, firm trace of her tongue.<br><br>Heat needed to be released. She could hear it building in Aggy's chest and the pitch of her exhales, like a kettle going to boil. Her kisses were obscenely wet on the skin of Agatha's neck and chest, each a slippery clasp with the inner edge of her lips and a vibrating flick-flick-flick with the tip of the tongue that left moisture beaded on her rosy skin. When she felt the texture of an areola she knew to retreat a fraction of an inch, and avoid the yearning nipple. In quick succession she worked around, counting out the numbers of the clock. Three o'clock, and the quick trill of a Spanish rolling <em>rr </em>was so practiced, so effortless, and she knew just how to apply it to a tender spot of skin. It was unlike anything, and it built in the nerves behind the skin, it built in butterflies in the tummy. Four o'clock, and in response to the feeling of Agatha's flesh pushing, wanting to occupy her trilling mouth, she gave the tiniest of nips with her teeth. Five o'clock, and her lapping tongue dallied on the softest of bumps from the corner of her mouth.<br><br>At six o'clock the angle of her mouth changed, and so did her trill, working subtly against gravity for a firmer flick. Seven o'clock, and the fingers that had warmed Aggy's thighs splayed across the material of her panties. Eight o'clock, and the softest of cheek brushes against the electrified nipple as Onneca multitasked with delicately unwrapping her present. Nimble fingers peeled the undergarments from the skin rather than thrusting down inside. Nine o'clock, and her trilling tongue had made a full crescent so quickly that the first tingle had yet to fade. Ten o'clock, and one loving hand strayed to feel the nervousness of Aggy's tummy rippling to the surface while she made the linen underthings whisper down the tops of the tinker's thighs. Eleven o'clock, and though she must strain to complete the circle, though her fingers lingered a little slow in Agatha's panties, she delivered another with the side of her tongue, broader, a muffled "Mmh" escaping from the unclaimed tip.<br><br>At twelve o'clock, her slippery tongue lost traction on the softness of Aggy's breast and swerved like the wild tail of a poet's signature. It was a prelude to the final clasp of her adoring lips to the neglected nipple, a final deliverance to buy her time as she snuck those panties down tensing and untensing thighs as stealthily as a cat burglar. When Aggy was bereft of them, and they lay disregarded in the darkness, Onneca began to move on the bed. Her fingers tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear, and the first kiss of her continuing journey pecked intimate just above Aggy's navel. She was not going to stop there.<br><br><acronym title="You're the most beautiful girl in the world">"Eres la chica más bonita del mundo,"</acronym> she exhaled as her lips crawled across the skin, <acronym title="I could never forget you">"Nunca te olvidaré."</acronym>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>02-08-2013, 05:38:10</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/9a/Steam_baby-avi.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's Bedroom<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Onneca<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;For a moment Agatha’s journey stalled, the agile fingers of her tailor caressed her ankles and calves.&nbsp; No longer was their touching unsure or timid. Gooseflesh peppered her skin as tiny hairs stretched to receive Onneca’s touch.&nbsp; The further up her limbs she felt exploring hands go the faster her heart beat in her chest.&nbsp; Those legs were smooth like satin from lotions meant only for a woman’s skin and pale like alabaster.&nbsp; Agatha heard a long soft moan and didn’t realize that it was her throat from which it had emanated.&nbsp; Her eyes closed, concentrating on those languid fingers delighting her flesh and could feel the sensation drawn through the epidermis and along her nervous pathways to fire the centers of pleasure within her brain.&nbsp; With every breath she could feel another wave of sensation until she gasped when her breast popped free from Onneca’s almost playful tug.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Coils of coppery hair fell against the flat of Onneca’s stomach, a prelude to the fevered brow that followed when the saliva slick flicker of Onneca’s tongue tormented her full and wanting breast.&nbsp; Agatha’s mouth opened in silent gasp.&nbsp; &nbsp;The moment was almost too much, the sensation too overwhelming.&nbsp; &nbsp;Gauzy cotton brushed along the back of Agatha’s thighs and over her hips, it would be only moments before industrious fingers would work the last barrier between Agatha and her desire free.&nbsp; Her fingers worked against the diaphanous garment clinging to Onneca’s lithe form, curling the fabric in her hands drawing it upward before unclenching and curling again.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The silent gasp became a whimper of approval as the teasing tongue relented and was replaced by perfect lips. Her breast glistened with saliva and Agatha could sense the respite from the heat the moist kisses provided, contrasting so deliciously with the warmth of Onneca’s lips.&nbsp; Those lips were present for what seemed the briefest of moments for even an eternity would not have been long enough.&nbsp; Nimble fingers discarded her ruined panties to the darkness of the room and she was truly free.&nbsp; Sweet Spanish words caressed her ears and then there was wiggling of limbs and rustling of bed linens and cloth.&nbsp; Agatha’s soft belly twitched and jumped inside at the trail of kisses that mirrored her own.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha shifted and slid along the sheets as their lips moved further and further away, yet closer and closer to a kiss more intimate than they had ever dreamt of sharing.&nbsp; A year’s worth of desire spurred Agatha forward.&nbsp; Her kisses more frantic and hungry as they finally breached the wave of cloth that had rolled and bunched around Onneca’s waist and touched skin damp from the warmth of their bodies closeness.&nbsp; Kisses turned into a long draw of her tongue to Onneca’s navel dipping inside as her hands found the edged of Onneca’s panties and worked them down olive legs struggling ever so slightly with her hip where it lay against the bed.&nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha parted her thighs as Onneca’s kisses neared the small thatch of fiery red hair crowning her sex.&nbsp; He own arms working around and under Onneca’s thighs, Hands and fingers made strong from applying years of torque and pressure curled around Onneca’s firm ass and her head rested on the pillow of Onneca’s thigh, nudging them apart with kisses along the soft pad of flesh beneath her navel.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>08-08-2013, 00:15:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's Bedroom<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha<br><hr><br>Onto her side, she chased the shift of Agatha's thighs, and with a soft collapse of limbs like a house of cards, a tussle of nightclothes, she was comfortably situated to pleasure Aggy and to be pleasured. There was no heat more heavenly than the needy heat that begged for release between the tinker's thighs, and no grip more reassuring than the clasp of lily Irish legs against her body as she began to touch. Her slender arms hooked around Aggy's hips, to keep her from darting away once the intensity built, and her fingers pet across the meticulously trimmed thatch of coppery hair. From mound to the nook of her thigh, Onneca's fingers stroked, smoothing and tugging at the roots of hairs that were only a tantalizing decoration, like the soft fuzz of a peach. Her lips pressed to the fiery triangle to acknowledge the effort Aggy had taken.<br><br><acronym title="So pretty.">"Tan bonita."</acronym> Onneca knew the effort well. There was always that fear that a woman with a sinful heart like hers would be ready and willing, that she would work her way down, and somehow the flower she had sought would not be to her liking. There was always that hope for an unexpected night, like tonight, where everything would be perfect and she needed to be, too. She had feathered her dark hair, thinned it into a soft transition from blushing olive flesh to dark silk that let her keep her modesty until crass fingers physically spread her open. There had been a woman, once, who had wanted Onneca fully shorn. It had been humiliating, and whenever she had been on display she had been sullen, like a shaven cat, and wanted to cover herself. Onneca kissed hairs that Agatha had never seen, because she knew that effort. The firm press of her lips against the soft mound instinctively nibbled for the buried clitoral shaft.<br><br>One knee lifted, and supported precariously onto the tips of her toes as she both gave Agatha access and resisted the urge to squirm. Her toes swiveled on the bedsheets and there was a shiver in that folded leg that only steadied when Agatha's hand was there to hold it. Her lips discovered the firm ligament beneath Aggy's soft mound, and pulled firmly to work the scant baby fat back across the hidden shaft, and to pull the hood back with only the indirect touch of her lips. She let the exposure of the open air and the sting of her hot breath tease the vulnerable nub, and begin to reclaim the moisture sticky around it. When she could see it, with barely focused big brown eyes, the firm tip of her tongue twirled to paint it wet again and to explore every neglected fold of flesh as only a lover could.<br><br>She tried to give Aggy what she did not know she wanted. It wasn't all direct, electric stimulation as her murmuring pink tongue glided wet across every pink petal. There was awkwardness, as the press of her tongue slipped without traction from inner labia to outer and back with an unsteady wet pluck. Maybe she was going too far, the lengths she went down Aggy's small perineum. But she was mapping Aggy's pleasure in her mind, adoring every small part of her from fore to aft. She was saving the clit, and she was saving the roll of her tongue, until they could climax in unison. Ever harder, her breath went musical with a soft plea for Agatha to reciprocate.<br><br>It was beautiful, it was perfect, but it was also the creeping suspicion that the door was not locked, that they were becoming too loud, that made it so unbearably hot.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>16-08-2013, 07:41:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/9a/Steam_baby-avi.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Onneca<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Any concerns of company hearing them or God forbid coming to investigate the sounds beginning to issue from underneath doors or worming their way between door and frame scattered like startled butterflies from Agatha’s mind as she felt that wonderful mouth began to explore her in earnest.&nbsp; She curled her hips trying to give Onneca as much access to her as she could and she shuddered in delight as Onneca’s pink muscle coaxed more of her pleasure from her.&nbsp; The awkward slip brought another wiggle of pleasure and Agatha’s finger nails bit into the olive cushions they held firm too.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The hot exhale of Agatha’s breath warmed Latin thighs.&nbsp; Dark chocolate cosmos petals unfurrowed under the presence of Agatha’s nimble tongue, brushing from hood to base, coating it with sticky nectar.&nbsp; Where Onneca was an artist, painting a masterpiece of ecstasy with her mouth that caused the legs she encircled in her arms to quiver and squirm in unabashed delight, Agatha was a tinkerer.&nbsp; She loved to experiment, to explore and above all test boundaries.&nbsp; Would Onneca enjoy the tender sweep of a tongue, the seal of soft lips suckling her clitoris, the feel of those nails pressed into flesh?&nbsp; &nbsp;Agatha tried them all.&nbsp; Pearly white teeth nibbled at the lovely dark fold of Onny’s inner labia just prior to her tongue sliding between them to dip deep inside.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Her lips uttered soft moans and groans and twitters of delight when Onneca’s tongue reached a spot or motion of particular enjoyment.&nbsp; It was the most delightful distraction, the most exquisite preoccupation.&nbsp; &nbsp;It wasn’t just her mouth that tested and explored when her breathing came to quick and her pleasure started to peak her hands, a maker’s hands joined the slippery delight that coated Agatha’s lips exploring when her mouth was unable.&nbsp; She thumbed across Onneca’s engorged clit, milky with drizzled nectar, hooked fingers plumbed inside of her warm tightening canal to strum firmly along the walnut sized bundle of nerves she found there.&nbsp; As she neared ecstasy her fingers strummed like a mariachi and her breath pumped heavy and quick.&nbsp; The more she senses picked up in Onneca’s growing heat the quicker she was driven towards her own climax.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>25-08-2013, 04:47:16</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's Bedroom<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha<br><hr><br>The little bites, madre dios- she had never read of such a thing in her pulps. Each small sting reopened the conduits for pleasure anew and layered delicately atop the last. The tailor's thin olive thighs opened tentatively, shakily, to let Aggy wound her in small ways. Every discomfort was thrilling for the wave of pleasure that surged behind it, and because it was borne of unrestrained passion. The way her fingers curled inside of Onneca, curling up tense toes like a puppeteer pulling the strings, would not be documented in any medical text. The lovely strum of Aggy's attentive fingers could keep her on edge for hours, a slave, but it was those wonderful little bites and the kisses of apology which followed that edged Onneca ever closer.<br><br>"Ah," she pleaded, making her climb explicit in her voice, <em>"Ah." </em>Her eager, darting mouth had painted Agatha almost too slippery for friction, and even her determined lips slid when she clasped a wet suckle. There was no penetration by her fingers, though a fingertip did run tight circuits around the nerve-laden starburst of the tinker's neglected back door when her tongue was elsewhere. Her fingers were put to softer uses. A hand splayed to caress and worship the rosy Irish tummy those signals of pleasure zipped up and down, lovingly followed the sexual curve of the woman's spine to remind her brain through touch of how eagerly she offered herself. The leg that lifted from the bed, she isolated and cradled high like a lonesome flagpole, made to thrum with the slither of a sensual finger from the pale tract of inner thigh all the way to the hollow of the ankle. They were places her mouth would like to go, but she could not leave the firm little kernel of Aggy's pleasure for even a moment, now. That would be cruel. Teasingly close sweeps of her tongue boxed in the pink bud, and when it was swelling to chase her at every edge, she sucked.<br><br>Her body wanted so badly to climax for Aggy. The tinker held the key to her pleasure, and all it would really take was a little attention, a little teasing, a turn of the key either slow or fast. The task of reciprocating had added string to her fuse, but it was going to happen. It was going to happen now. <em>"Ah, haaah." </em>Delicate knees met behind the nape of Aggy's neck as the protective huddle of her orgasm held her truest love to the rhythmic contraction and weeped nectar of her overstimulated flower. Her mouth murmured to express her pleasure with slippery lips upon Aggy's pink flesh, and her fingers could not help but curl and penetrate the woman's enticed bottom with a trembling, vibrating digit pressed firm inside.<br><br>The feeling was a pebble dropped into a calm pond, a quick suck in, and then an ecstatic lunge of water up through the pinhole of escape from tension. The ripples sent shockwaves through every muscle in her body that she could consciously control, and those she could not. The gentle mist of droplets that followed the stone's plunge sat cooling on her skin, electrified to the smallest touch, tingling all over. But, oh, she had wanted to cum with Agatha- through hot pants for breath, her tongue lapped to lavish the whole region of sensation between her lover's thighs, begging her, share this with me, don't make me go into bliss alone.<br><br>A satisfaction flooded through her every vein like no other, the glory of God's love to Abraham, exalted beyond all human experience. She was delivered from darkness and uncertainty.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>07-09-2013, 08:07:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/9a/Steam_baby-avi.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Agatha Dunwich<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Onneca<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Onneca need not to have worried.&nbsp; She would never be alone again, in life or in bliss.&nbsp; Slick fingers were replaced by slick lips and a tongue that flickered like electricity across the filament of Onneca’s core, broken only to gasp at the pleasures sweet Onneca blessed her with.&nbsp; Pinned like a butterfly and dying sweet deaths with every.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; “Oh yes.” She encouraged the stroke of wet fingers against the tight pucker of her anus. Brushing wild and damp red stands from her face and lips Agatha suckled at Onneca’s engorged clitoris, her finger coated in the thick honey of their lovemaking sought out the dark rosebud that she wished them to pleasure.&nbsp; Agatha had feared that Onneca may not wish the same pleasures she sought but Onneca’s fingers circled a pleasure more private even than the flower she coaxed towards ecstasy, teasing her in a way that brought her ever closer to the abyss she desperately craved.&nbsp; Agatha’s fingers mirrored her partners coating the dark star and teasing it with gentle pressure.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Walls of soft flesh enveloped her neck and Agatha’s lips hummed in delight.&nbsp; Strands of nectar connected pink to pink awash with warm breath and body.&nbsp; Oh God . She could feel her body go ridged and fought to hold on, desperate to share this moment with her love.&nbsp; In desperation she brought her&nbsp; mouth to bear, sealing them together and as Onneca’s slender digit entered her so too did her own into Onneca and she cried out as her pearl released coating Onneca’s lips as dew specked her face.&nbsp; Agatha’s body quaked against the lapping tongue and nectar continued to drip from her flower and her deliverance did not abate quickly so heightened by the woman she had longed for.&nbsp; Between heavy breaths and whimpers of delight she gathered the droplets of dew speckling Onneca’s beautiful body.<br><br>“ Te amo a mi Onny, mi mariposa.” She murmured glistening lips, taking her gaze from the dew covered flower to peer across their naked bodies, her face speckled with their love.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dhi</strong> on <strong>21-09-2013, 02:32:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Onneca de Goni<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Night, After Dinner<br><strong>Location:</strong> Agatha's Bedroom<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Agatha<br><hr><br>"Mmh." Her smile put dimples in her cheeks and she tried to giggle, but every breath that rushed into her slender body was desperately needed. She had to rest, her glistening limbs draped over Agatha, trusting her absolutely in her weakness. She was too sensitive to touch just yet, but still needed to feel Aggy against her skin, especially in the delirious afterglow where fantasy and reality were hard to distinguish.<br><br>"Every day, your Spanish is getting better," she said through her smile. The moonlight revealed a sliver of creamy skin moving slow by her, and instinctively she kissed it before rising to sit. Her lips were parted, still bearing the evidence of their lovemaking, as she drank in Agatha's body beside her. So many times they had touched, and Onneca had told herself it was never this, it would never be this- and now it was. It had been an exhausting day, physically, mentally, emotionally. There were few out West that did not leave her longing to rest her head. But there was a body at her fingertips that called to her, stronger than anything<br><br>Onneca's arms stretched up over her head, almost to the canopy of the bed, and the last remaining cover of her camisole sailed off the edge. Her tanned olive skin glowed from head to toe, with nothing to hide. Wisps of dark hair floated gently down in the still night air as she quietly appreciated what she had been given, and the risk they both must take to be together. The risk that Elisabeth and Christian had to take to protect the fragile little seed of a forbidden love. It had to be worth it. It had to be perfect. And they would have to be careful- a night like this was the only time they could have one another.<br><br>"Por favor- just a moment," she excused, flushed pink, embarrassed for her own sensitivity. "I need, ah, a little pause. It gets too intense." The nerve-filled peaks of her breasts were so tender that she had to carefully approach Aggy's side. "Do you have a music box? Something that plays the music." A kiss of encouragement under Aggy's chin, still full of energy, still raring to go. "Every time there is a dance, I have wanted to ask you. I have been afraid. I still hear the music, from that night last summer. My heart was beating fast, and I felt like a coward." Her fingers slipped gently across Agatha's nightclothes, a drag on the fabric to entice her to lose it all, and join Onneca naked and free. A final splash of raven hair, silky, fine, moisturized, teased before retreating. "I would like to dance with you. Just this once, in this time we have."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>11-04-2014, 19:18:07</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/e6/Reloadedbanner.png)</div><br>All posts after this juncture are part of Doomtown Reloaded.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>auroraChloe</strong> on <strong>19-04-2014, 04:08:10</strong>
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				<hr><br><div class="floatleft">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/a16483c2858f862945634d46b9ad41b9/tumblr_mh480oybdg1r64urio1_500.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Jaelyn Scot-Jones<br><br><strong>Faction:</strong> ()<br><br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 11th, 1876<br><br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> late in the evening<br><br><strong>Location:</strong> in her home (w/in the Mercantile &amp; Trade)<br><br><strong>Tagged:</strong> <br><br><hr><br>Jaelyn settled into the steaming water as quickly as her skin could stand it.&nbsp; It was a slow process, but well worth the scalding agonies that creeped along her limbs and torso.&nbsp; She’d found the bathtub tucked behind a privacy partition in a corner of the kitchen; more proof that her father had continued to hope for the arrival of his love and love child; and splurged on some sweet smelling soap from the store.&nbsp; It was after all now her inventory.&nbsp; <br><br>All her days in Lost Angels never allowed for a bath such as this to wash away layers of dust, dirt and sweat while easing the ache of sorely used muscles.&nbsp; So she revelled in bittersweet thoughts of what could have been - <em>what should have been</em> - while she scrubbed clean every inch of her body and then soaked in the still warm water for much longer than was deemed proper in the Cathedral of Grimme.&nbsp; She laughed softly at the thought.&nbsp; The Fathers were as different from Ezekiel Grimme as a right hand from a left foot.&nbsp; <br><br>Father Ortega, the kindly old padre serving Gomorra, had looked in on the store earlier, only to catch her and a half a dozen imps chasing each other with wet, soapy rags, a spontaneous break from the hard task of cleaning the place from top to bottom.&nbsp; His visit was extended as he lent a hand in counting tins of beans and fruit, spoons, lanterns and whenever the children lost count or just plain ran out of fingers and toes.&nbsp; All the while his eyes crinkled in the corners as the playful antics continued and his warm chuckle blessed the beams and boards.<br><br>Drying off, Jaelyn’s thoughts sobered, as she put on the only chemise she had.&nbsp; It was sleeveless, white and growing thin enough to tear easily.&nbsp; Mrs Clarke couldn’t come too soon with those new pieces.&nbsp; As it was she’d have to wear the black again tomorrow.&nbsp; Now clean fingers and nails&nbsp; settled on the strange gift Father Ortega left. (http://www.catholicfaithstore.com/Inventory/CatholicFaith/10/PicAilgJs.jpg)&nbsp; The necklace itself wasn't so strange as the Father's insistence that she never be with out it.&nbsp; <br><br>“Wear it, always, my child.”&nbsp; He admonished gently.&nbsp; She had looked at him curiously, noting the lack of laugh lines when he glanced back to the children still playing about as they finished up their tasks.&nbsp; Patting her hands - nails filthy and knuckles raw from the afternoon’s efforts - in both of his, he let a gentle smile return to his lips.&nbsp; “Please, Miss Scot-Jones… Jaelyn.&nbsp; Humor an old man.”<br><br>Short of an outright promise, she told him she would.&nbsp; It was a simple piece, not exactly pretty with Jesus dead on the cross, but on closer inspection, the Dogwood beads were lovely with a slightly pink hue.&nbsp; Reverend Grimme never had much truck with jewelry or those that wore it, as such things are a vanity he can not stomach, as sinful as any murdering wretch.&nbsp; But…&nbsp; This was a holy piece; a rosary, the good father had called it.&nbsp; Jae slipped it over her head, lifting her still damp hair so the beads lay against the skin of her neck, the cross resting on her belly.<br><br><div align="center">(http://www.catholicfaithstore.com/Inventory/CatholicFaith/10/PicAilgJs.jpg)</div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>26-04-2014, 23:59:45</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/7f/Marshallbadge.png)</div><strong>The Home of Nathan Hunter</strong><br><br><strong>Location:&nbsp; </strong>South and west off of Ballot Boulevard, facing a small stone courtyard shared with four other homes.<br><br>Nathan Hunter didn't have the largest home in Gomorra, but it was no modest thing.&nbsp; The bachelor had been a long-serving deputy of the city, and while not a skinflint, he was not a frivolous man.&nbsp; The house was of simple design, with a small balcony overlooking the courtyard, and a wrap around deck that allowed hot Gomorran days to be spent in the shade, out of doors.&nbsp; The white paint had been kept up as a source of pride, and the deck still had chair neatly aligned to look out over the courtyard.&nbsp; The deck wrapped all the way to the back of the house, the true reason for its locations:&nbsp; It had an excellent view of the shattered mesas that made up the Great Maze, and beyond them the blue of the Pacific Ocean.<br><br>Inside, a foyer shared space with a living room, connected by hardwood floors and halls that led to a modest kitchen and a well appointed dining room that gathered dust from disuse.&nbsp; An office saw far more use - the legal texts that filled three walls were collecting dust as well, but one of the walls had become an investigator's workshop:&nbsp; Pictures and articles were connected in various places, and a map of Gomorra and the mesas which surrounded it had pins holding it up - and dozens of pins stuck into the map itself, connected by string to show where various criminal misdeeds had transpired.<br><br>The upstairs was given over to the bedrooms - three in all.&nbsp; Nathan Hunter's bedroom was still clean and well ordered.&nbsp; A small sliver-framed picture of a gaunt woman in New York fashion smiling weakly for the camera graced one bedside table.&nbsp; There was a spare bedroom with an single pair of clothes fit for a man of slighter frame than Nathan Hunter himself, and a second that had been wholly occupied by Corky Hendricks.&nbsp; Her bed fitted with red sheets and comforter and a closet full of frayed denim jeans and dusty blouses lining the floor of the bedroom.&nbsp; Corky's bedroom had an antique, hand-drawn picture of a man with a broad smile, shoulders like a bear, and a bushy black beard that hung nearly to his belt.<br><br>The pantries were largely bare - as were the liquor cabinets.&nbsp; Neither insinuated that Nathan Hunter or Corky Hendricks had the least idea how to cook.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Strangefate</strong> on <strong>29-04-2014, 05:38:07</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f2/Beardycox.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Avery Burnam<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Law Dogs (1)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 11th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening <br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Letty <br><hr> <br><br>[continued from Babel's Tower]<br><br>"Well, well, not too bad Mr. Hunter…"<br><br>Doubtless crime paid in Gomorra, Avery wouldn't have settled on this town if he hadn't believed that, but it seemed the law made out well enough too.&nbsp; The missing deputy's house had a lovely view, and if not extravagant, the house was more than adequate for a bachelor's needs.&nbsp; It put the dingy cot behind his town office to shame that was certain.&nbsp; Not that purchasing a home in Gomorra was exactly high on Avery's list.&nbsp; Still, he could appreciate another man's success.<br><br>"Careful of the last step.&nbsp; There you are.&nbsp; Very good," he coaxed as he led Letty through the front door, letting her lean her weight on him for support when needed.&nbsp; Finding her an open seat in the living room off the foyer, the Englishman did a quick circuit of the house.&nbsp; He spent perhaps a bit longer than strictly necessary glancing at the legal texts in the office and studying the rather eye-catching map with all the pins stuck it in.&nbsp; His agency could certainly use one of those, he reflected, wondering just how much one would set him back.&nbsp; <br><br>By the time he'd returned to Letty he'd laid out one of the upstairs bed, taking down a few coverlets from the closet and shaking out the pillows, as well as drawing fresh water from the pump in the courtyard outside.&nbsp; "Drink," he instructed, handing her a glass, "and then we'll see you upstairs and you can get some needed rest.&nbsp; Unless you'd prefer the couch down here, Miss Sanchez."&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Loves</strong> on <strong>01-05-2014, 02:33:44</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i975.photobucket.com/albums/ae240/samanthamazur/123113XVGe0iUX_zps46cbf3be.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Aletta Emelda Maria Sanchez (aka Letty) (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9815927#msg9815927)<br><strong>Faction:</strong> none<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 11th, 1877<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening <br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Avery Burnham<br><hr><br>~continued from Babel's Tower~ (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200884.msg9922621#msg9922621)<br><br>The walk and the fresh air had done her a world of&nbsp; good, though she was exactly sober, Letty wasn’t silly drunk either. What she was was mellow. Nothing was going to bother her that night, nothing but the voices in the back of her mind that enjoyed her loneliness much more that it should have.&nbsp; The landscape was barren, matching her growing mood.&nbsp; She was working through the stages of intoxication fairly quickly, no doubt on her way to soon passing out cold. <br><br>Avey’s comments brought her focus whirling back to the here and now. She stood before the well kept house and smiled. It wasn’t a palace, but then if it had Letty’s wouldn’t have felt as warm towards it. What it was, however, was a home...not just a shack a person could rest and kick off their boots. She softened at the sight of the courtyard and took the steps leading to the porch with a tender step. Letty almost felt as if she was floating… she blinked… hiccuped...then reached out for the chair to steady herself, only to find a rock on the handsome, fancy speakin’ feller that was acting as her escort. <br><br><strong>”Gracias señor”</strong> Letty smiled, or tried to smile...she hoped it was a smile, it felt like a smile. Her fingers moved to gently stroke along her bottom lip, as if feeling for the slight curve that would prove that she had in fact been smiling. The corners of her lips curled up at her own absurdity while she settled on the settee to which she had been consigned. She slumped over to one side, propped up by a lumpy cushion and watched as Avery moved about the room. Her brown eyes did some rather intensive investigation of their own, memorizing the back of her eyelids. <br><br>A hiccup startled her awake, causing her to hit her head on the wall, Her arm felt heavy as it moved in an exaggerated movement to swat at her hat, dragging it from the top of her head. A heavy sigh sounded as she looked about the unfamiliar room. Her eyes clouded with confusion. Where the heck was she anyhow? <br><br>Leaning slightly forward, her torso at an odd angle (almost as if Letty had been contemplating getting to her feet and had somehow...forgotten.) Her long lashes fluttered, her mind and body in a battle of wills, both seeking the title of master and commander of the passionate young woman currently three sheets to the wind and dropping fast. The scene before her was like watching the room through a kaleidoscope, with her vision obscured by the sudden obstacle of her eyelids.<br><br>One blink had the room still, void of any life bar her own beating heart. Another blink and the sound of footfalls tickled her ear, had she been in control of her senses Letty would have looked in the direction of the sound. As it were, she remained put, slightly wavering from side to side. Another blink, a shadow painted the wall. Then darkness… her eyelids were slowing in their movement. Then a voice drew her full attention and a sudden fluttering of long, thick lashes revealed the kindly face of her escort. <br><br>Letty’s dark brown eyes held a world of emotion laid bare for Avery to see as she looked up into his handsome face. For a moment she simply stared. Slowly, her eyes trailed over his body, roaming over his outstretched arm and settling upon the offered glass of water. She licked her lips, suddenly feeling parched. <strong>”Gracias señor”</strong> whispered the young ranch hand as she accepted the kind offering with a shaky hand.&nbsp; Her tongue swept her bottom lip once more before she was able to sip from the glass. <br><br>The refreshing water soothed more that her dry, tight throat. She closed her eyes, softly moaned her pleasure and continued to sip before tilting her head back and filling her mouth with perhaps too much water. She coughed, wiping the excess from her chin with the back of her hand before looking up once more at the man before her. <strong>”Do you own this house?”</strong> she asked softly as she handed him the glass. Her fingers busied themselves, releasing her brown hair from the restraints of the braids while her mind was trying to work out the details, wondering exactly what the fancy speaking bloke was suggesting.&nbsp; Her fingers worked out the curls and kinks, leaving a soft main of chocolate brown hair to frame her pretty face.&nbsp; <strong>"Reckon a bed would be somethin' ....&nbsp; I be played out."</strong> 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Strangefate</strong> on <strong>03-05-2014, 03:46:03</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f2/Beardycox.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Avery Burnam<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Law Dogs (1)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 11th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening <br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> End Scene (for Avery)<br><hr> <br>"The house?&nbsp; No, not mine.&nbsp; My place isn't quite suitable for guests, but you'll be fine here.&nbsp; Miss Hendricks will see to you," Avery explained patiently, taking the glass and setting it aside.&nbsp; He also took a moment to scoop up her wayward hat again, which had again found its way to the floor, a natural inclination it seemed, one perhaps accounting for the layer of dust it wore.&nbsp; Placing it on the coffee table, he turned to find Letty loosening her braids, releasing her thick brown tresses to flow gently over her slender shoulders.&nbsp; It did something rather intriguing to her face…but these were not thoughts to be contemplating before carrying a drunk woman to bed.&nbsp; Or perhaps they were, just not this drunk woman, not this bed, not this night.&nbsp; <br><br>Still Avery's gaze lingered just a little longer than was strictly necessary before he cleared his throat.&nbsp; "Right.&nbsp; A bed.&nbsp; I fear the previous owner hid them all upstairs just to spite us, so we'll have another little jaunt.&nbsp; If you start feeling tipsy, grab hold of the banister, alright?"&nbsp; As opposed to say, his lapels, the thought of being found a few hours hence by Hendricks at the bottom of the stairwell with a broken neck not the way he wanted to end this already tragically ridiculous evening.&nbsp; &nbsp;Sacrificing a dollar and a few hours to preserve a ranch hand's reputation should be enough to gain him entrance to heaven; full on martyrdom would be pushing it.&nbsp; <br><br>He waited while Letty extracted herself from the settee, offering a steadying hand only when it looked as though she was about to tumble back into it, and start the whole process anew.&nbsp; The stairs proved something of a trial and error process, but the walk from Babel's seemed to have restored some of the girl's awareness and sense of balance.&nbsp; They managed to make it to the top before a misstep occurred, her foot stumbling over the final step, causing him to loop his arm around her waist.&nbsp; With her body pressed warmly against his own, Avery was left suddenly very aware of the womanly shape beneath that roughspun dress.&nbsp; Fortunately, the bedrooms were directly ahead, and so, removing his arm, he decided to divest himself of her in the very first and be done with it at last.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>"There you go," Avery said once she was seated on the edge of it.&nbsp; "Nice and comfy.&nbsp; We best get your boots…Miss Hedricks probably wouldn't appreciate your wearing them to bed…women being rather funny about that sort of thing."&nbsp; He knelt down to help pull them free, placing them at the foot of the bed.&nbsp; "And I'm afraid that's it for me.&nbsp; &nbsp;An interesting evening to be sure.&nbsp; Good night, Miss Sanchez.&nbsp; You‘ll feel better in the morning."&nbsp; Well, not exactly 'better' perhaps, but different anyways.&nbsp; The ride back home would likely be an ordeal in and of itself.&nbsp; &nbsp;Returning her to the ranch would be Ms. Hendricks concern though.&nbsp; Playing the gallant wasn't <em>that</em> habit forming.<br><br>Softly shutting the door, Avery quietly headed back downstairs.&nbsp; He took a moment to neaten up, returning the glass to the kitchen and snuffing out the lamps he'd lit, before he wandered back into Hunter's office.&nbsp; The Englishman had a more thorough look around this time, finding himself curious about the man who'd lived here.&nbsp; The judge seemed to hold Hunter in high regard, and he rather doubted he'd find such a careful setup in, say, Bilton's or Templeton's house.&nbsp; A row of well-oiled firearms in a gun rack was likely their idea of how a law man prepared himself.&nbsp; It wasn't the land that was savage, so much as the men who came to it, Avery was finding.<br><br>Taking hold of a sheet of stationary and an inkwell that was not yet dry, he removed his jacket and began to write in neat careful script.&nbsp; <br><br><em><span style="font-family: andale mono;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">Miss Sanchez,<br><br>I hope the morning finds you refreshed and in renewed spirits.&nbsp; You may discover the events of last evening grown hazy with the new day but needn’t worry for neither your reputation nor virtue shall find any cause for alarm.&nbsp; The free refreshment at Babel Tower merely proved of stronger vintage than you are apparently accustomed but Miss Hendricks was kind of enough to allow you the use of a bed for the night to recover.&nbsp; Feel no embarrassment, for it is a forgivable offense nearly all have fallen prey to at some time, and no harm has resulted.&nbsp; <br><br>“If to her share some errors fall/Look on her face, you’ll forget them all.”&nbsp; <br><br>Fancifully yours,<br>A. </span></span></em> <br><br>He waited until the ink dried then folded it up, tucking the note into the brim of Letty's hat before letting himself out the front door.&nbsp; The moon had already risen in the night's sky and Avery studied it for a moment from the magnificent view afforded by the house's porch.&nbsp; An entire evening wasted.&nbsp; He could return to Babel's but there was no way he’d find a good table now.&nbsp; The easy money was doubtless already being siphoned into the pockets of men far cagier and less soft hearted than himself.&nbsp; Straightening his hat and jacket, he found himself not feeling as bad as all that though.&nbsp; There was even a slight smile on his face as Avery stepped down the porch. "Doo-dah," he mouthed.&nbsp; "Hmf."<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Loves</strong> on <strong>09-05-2014, 05:33:03</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i975.photobucket.com/albums/ae240/samanthamazur/123113XVGe0iUX_zps46cbf3be.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Aletta Emelda Maria Sanchez (aka Letty) (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9815927#msg9815927)<br><strong>Faction:</strong> none<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 11th, 1877<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening <br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Avery Burnham<br><hr><br><div style="text-align: justify;">She had been following him pretty well right up to the part where he spoke of a Miss Hendricks. Her face must have shown some kind of confusion, she could feel her eyebrows knit together as if she was really thinking hard to place the name. In the end Letty decided she was too tired to give a horse’s ass. Miss Hendricks, whoever she may be would just have to deal with the inebriated Mexican for one night. It weren’t gonna kill no one! And so she had made herself comfortable, smiling in a manner that brought a softness to her face while she released her long locks from their braids. <br><br>Letty wasn’t aware that she had captured even a small part of her escorts curiosity. Her mind was starting to wander into the hazy world of the sandman as the drink that had rotted away her good sense was settling in for the night. Her body wanted to sleep. If Avery had been hoping for anything to happen between them as a reward he would have found himself stuck with an unconscious woman in no time.&nbsp; Luckily for Letty she was with one of the few real gentlemen in Gomorra.&nbsp; There were some that wouldn’t care about her state… conscious or unconscious, she was still a woman… and an attractive one at that! <br><br>The sudden clearing of his throat startled the young ranch hand, causing her to jump in her seat. Due to the fact that Letty was already precariously perched upon the small sofa, the sudden movement had caused her to fall forward and land on her knee. She looked up at Avery with wide brown eyes. At first her tired mind was sure he had pushed her, but the delayed reaction that she was experiencing held her tongue. It lay in&nbsp; her mouth like iron, effectively holding her tongue and her unjust accusations. Instead she pushed herself back onto the sofa and tried to listen to his instructions. What did he mean, hold on to his label? Obviously she had misunderstood him, or missed something entirely… <strong>”Get it together girl!”</strong> Letty grumbled, speaking to herself without realizing she had also shared her thoughts aloud. <br><br>And get it together she did! With a herculean effort Letty (with Avery’s help) climbed what appeared to be the Mount Everest of staircases! But she was never one to shy away from a challenge and so… off she went! like a trooper! Step by step by step…each one bringing her closer to her prize! The bed! It was calling to her…. Letty! Letty!&nbsp; Or that might have been the sound of her heart beating hard against her chest, at this point it was anyones guess! Either way she could practically smell the sheets! And in this case the scent was heavenly...unlike some of the bunks form the temporary hands back at the ranch. So excited to have almost reached her goal she miscalculated how many steps were left and stumbled, only to be held tight against the man that had saved her more than once that evening!&nbsp; God did he smell good!&nbsp; <strong>”Fancy”</strong> whispered Letty, so close her lips almost brushed against his neck…<br><br>The next thing she knew Letty was in a room and on a bed, blinking...her mind whirling in several directions wondering what to do next. Luckily for Letty her savior with the fancy speaking voice was guiding her with that as well. She looked down at her boots and sighed. For some reason they looked a lot farther away than they ought to have. Letty was just debating with herself on the best way to go about the removal, and having decided upon simply flinging her boots free and hoping that she wouldn’t break anything in the process when Avery once more rode up on his white stallion to save the day!&nbsp; Letty giggled as she watched him remove her boots. She had never been so happy in her life for having had the good sense to wear her good socks! <br><br>A nod of her head that appeared much more comical than she had intended it to be signaled her understanding. It was time for Mr. Fancy Britches to be getting on with things. Things, as it were, that had nothing to do with rescuing Letty!&nbsp; She stood as he moved toward the door and began to strip. Her mind was on the task at&nbsp; hand and nothing else. Her skirt was down before Avery reached the door and she was working on her blouse as the sound of the door signaled his final exit.&nbsp; Once stripped down to nothing Letty snuggled, or rather crashed into the bed. She lay, buck naked atop of the sheets with her cheek pressed to the pillow, and her backside in the air , passed out at last! </div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>11-05-2014, 11:55:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0e/Corky.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Cordelia “Corky” Hendricks<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Law Dogs<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 11th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open, Letty<br><hr>All told, the openin’ night of Babel’s Tower hadn’t been near as much trouble as Corky had suspected it was gonna be.&nbsp; Sure, there’d been that fella Christian had shot, but that had simmered more folks down than riled ‘em up, and might have sobered up a few folks enough that they hadn’t gone heading for the bridge.&nbsp; She’d gotten Charlie to sit on the bridge to Soddom, and then taken the main bridge herself.&nbsp; There’d been a few people she’d had to toss into the clink, but mostly they’d been so drunk that puttin’ one foot in front of the other was more the issue than actually reasonin’ with ‘em.&nbsp; By the end of the night they had a full cell and no one seemed to have wandered themselves down a hundred feet of mesa for a late night swim, so she was happy.<br><br>Tired, but happy.&nbsp; She’d forgotten all about Avery’s cute little girlfriend by then, and so let herself in late.&nbsp; There was always a little pang whenever she came into Hunter’s home; she’d loved to hear his stories about how the day had gone, or spill her own, and there were times when she opened the door and… forgot.<br><br>She wrinkled her nose, and dipped her head, running her hands through her hair.&nbsp; The place felt big and lonely without the other Law Dog, and she nibbled her lip as she left a trail of clothes from the living room up the stairs.&nbsp; Standing in the cold by the bridge for the better part of the afternoon and evening had left her stiff and sore, and by the she’d made it to her room she was already mostly undressed.&nbsp; She blinked at the lump in her bed, for a moment forgetting all about the promise to let Letty stay.<br><br><em>Well, I didn’t mean in mah bed!</em>&nbsp; She wrinkled her nose with indignation, then shrugged.&nbsp; <em>Bet it’s probably warm as all get-out, though.</em>&nbsp; She lifted a blanket and a dark wave of hair long enough to make sure it was the woman from earlier, and then wandered round to the other side of the bed and tugged back the blankets and slid in next to her.&nbsp; The coccoon of warmth was a welcome luxury after a night in the cold desert air, and she wrapped an arm around her new friend’s waist and snuggled against her backside.<br><br>It was kinda peculiar to be the big spoon.&nbsp; When she was a young’un she’d always been the little spoon.&nbsp; The cabin she’d grown up in with her pa had been small, and they’d shared a bed, but she’d always been the little spoon.<br><br>Still, it didn’t take more than a second or three of contemplation, and then she closed her eyes and was sound asleep.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>17-05-2014, 01:08:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/65/Judgehawkins.png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Judge Warwick<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Law Dogs (4)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 11th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Judge Warwick’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open, Matthew Ford<br><hr>The Judge’s home was a short walk down the southwest road from the town square where they’d met, and he kept a firm pace for a man of advanced age.&nbsp; “This is Limbo Avenue,” he offered, giving a smile over his shoulder.&nbsp; “Gomorra, Soddom - “ he pointed to the south and east, though the tent city on the mesa to the southeast was invisible.&nbsp; “Limbo Avenue, Temptation Road - the people of Gomorra have a curious preoccupation with Perdition, and for all that had only one church.”&nbsp; He gave a small shrug and an amused smile, and gave a little nod to Blue, who left his side and jogged ahead down the road.<br><br>“Blue has been my constable for the last year, but there was an attempt upon my life a few nights ago.&nbsp; The boy hasn’t left my side since, and spent too many nights up without sleep.&nbsp; Hopefully a second constable around will give the poor young man the chance to sleep from time to time.”<br><br>He walked slowly, looking back to the man and his unusual redskin wife.&nbsp; There was no sign of the normal prejudice exerted upon the men and women of her color, only curiosity.<br><br>“Mrs. Ford, a word of caution - the mesa of Soddom is not a pleasant place for a woman.&nbsp; We do our best to keep some semblance of order there, but violence against womenfolk is… particular and not uncommon.&nbsp; I’d advise you avoid it, unless accompanied by your husband or another armed man you trust.”<br><br>He tipped his hat, then stopped and turned down an alley towards a courtyard hidden behind the large, expensive buildings to the west of the Tracks.&nbsp; There looked to be a theater, a library, a museum and an art gallery.&nbsp; The courtyard he led the way to was surrounded by other large homes, well crafted if veering just short of opulent.&nbsp; “This is my home,” he offered, gesturing with a hand, and drew to a pause.&nbsp; Blue emerged from the door, and gave a smile and a thumb’s up.&nbsp; Warwick noted it and smiled in return, mounting the stone steps to the deck that wrapped around the front, and patted Blue’s shoulder as he passed him.&nbsp; <br><br>“I’m afraid Gomorra is a bit short of regular supply of fresh food, but we make do.&nbsp; You’re welcome to either of the guest bedrooms on the upstairs floor,” he offered, “I’ll get started on a dinner.&nbsp; Please, make yourselves at home.&nbsp; I assume your wagon is at one of the ranches outside of town?”<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wulfspire</strong> on <strong>19-05-2014, 00:42:37</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/7a/Josh_Brolin_True_Grit.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Christian “Spooky” Spectre<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 13th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong> Ginny Whateley’s Home<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Ginny Whateley<br><hr>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br><br><br>It was another miserable day in Gomorra, or at least it was for Christian. It was not exactly hot outside, not yet, but it was warm enough that being in his duster was annoying. Not wearing the duster was an option Christian considered for only a moment, then the wind picked up blowing dust and sand into his face. Living outside of town in his tent was something Christian was well used to, as he often could not afford a more sheltered residence moving from place to place. Now, unfortunately, Christian was having trouble affording to even eat.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br>Which brought Christian to the situation he was at now, walking to Ginny Whateley’s manor. It was the closest thing to a palace Christian had ever seen, and that made Ginny Whateley one of the richest women he had ever known. That was one reason he was making the visit to see Ginny today. One of a few different reasons. Christian considered her a friend, if not a close one, and she had invited her to his home. It would have been rude to not come. She was also a mystifying creature to the grizzled gunslinger. A young woman with more gusto, courage, and balls than any man who had tried to face him down on the street. Yet, as far as Christian could tell, she held no martial abilities at all. What a mystifying creature!<br><br>Impressed was not the word Christian would have used about the place Ginny called home. Money and the art of having a lot of it were not impressive to Christian, but it was something he certainly respected. Being and becoming rich was something that did necessitate some amount of skill, and that was respectable. Still, being lavish and gaudy with that wealth was a bit odd. To Christian it seemed a lot like being the first to draw, a lot like playing with your cards turned up. If, however, that was how Ginny wanted to be, that was fine with Christian. It was dangerous, and that made it ballsy. And Ginny definitely had balls.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br>As Christian ascended the pathway to her door, he gave a heavy sigh. He hated being a beggar, but it was a situation he found himself in more and more often these days. Wandering the West was something that did not afford itself to steady employment. Christian usually found work with the local law, even if they just paid him for his reputation that kept trouble at bay. Bilton and Christian did not exactly get along, however. Christian barely considered Bilton above a common bandit, let alone leader of the local law. Truth be told, Christian would casually gun the man down if he would only have the guts to draw first. So, that left Christian making his way to Ginny so that he might get a job.&nbsp; Christian was a proud man, but he would beg if he had too. Find The Man in Black was too important to be halted from a lack of funds.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br>Christian removed his hat, taking the venerable Stetson in hand, and rapped a couple times on the front door. “Ms. Whateley,” Christian called out, his gravelly tone not quite as echoing as he might have intended, “Its Christian, are you around?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Loves</strong> on <strong>21-05-2014, 02:05:18</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i975.photobucket.com/albums/ae240/samanthamazur/123113XVGe0iUX_zps46cbf3be.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Aletta Emelda Maria Sanchez (aka Letty) (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9815927#msg9815927)<br><strong>Faction:</strong> none<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 12th, 1877<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Morning… ugh!&nbsp; <br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Corky, and Avery’s letter. <br><hr><br><div style="text-align: justify;">The night was peaceful. Letty hadn’t stirred, not even when a second body joined the bed. Thankfully Letty was not guilty of snoring, nor was she sick in the night. However when morning came it came with a vengeance! Her head felt thick and heavy, and her entire body ached. The back of her eyeballs were throbbing and her throat was dryer than the dessert. She stirred beneath the bed covers and tried to avoid the sun, but she knew it was inevitable. A new day had broken and life was marching on. There was no time for crying over mistakes, big or small. Most of last night had been a blur, but for some snippets of memories that flashed through her head like still photography. One face kept appearing. A kind face. A handsome face. A fancy face! <br><br>Letty moaned, and stirred some more, stretching beneath the covers. The movement shifted the blanket and left her shivering from the loss of heat. <strong>”Aye, aye, aye…mi cabeza se siente como si hubiera sido pisoteado por un caballo una y mil veces”</strong> and it was true. A thousand times or more a horse could have trampled over her head and she wouldn’t have felt worse than she did at that moment. Reaching for the blanket, she pulled it over her head and tried to wish away the day. Her stomach was tender, but she knew she hadn’t been sick… the horrible feeling left in her mouth after evacuating the contents of her stomach was missing. But she was in no hurry to test it with food. And for anyone who knew Letty, knew that she was always one for a hearty breakfast. <br><br>Deciding the best thing to do for the moment was simply lay as still as possible with the blankets covering her from head to toe, Letty spent the next few minutes trying to piece together the parts of information that she could remember. Who was that man that seemed prominent in her memory? She remembered being angry with Aggy. The letters! oh dios the letters!&nbsp; The lies that had been spilled carelessly in fancy scrawl burned in her memory, as did the conversation that had set the ball in motion the day before. She had come into town angry! There had been free drinks! She had partaken in them with great enthusiasm with nothing much in her stomach thanks to the argument she had had with Aggy hours before. Once again those fancy rotten lies had driven her down a path that she hadn’t been prepared for! <br><br>Too much thinking was making Letty’s head hurt even worse. Laying still wasn’t helping her head any and so Letty shifted in hope that she might find a better position. Her hand moved lower to remove the weight that seemed to linger on her waist when her mind came into clear focus for the first time! She wasn’t alone in the bed!&nbsp; Her breath caught in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut, bringing back the memory of a smiling fancy man that had haunted her since waking.&nbsp; <br><br>Was she in bed with him?&nbsp; No… no she wouldn’t do … but she hadn’t exactly been in her right mind. Forcing herself to open her eyes, Letty lifted the blankets and looked down. The arm that hung lazily over her waist was not male!&nbsp; She sighed a sound of relief… well if it wasn’t Mr. Fancy Britches, then who the hell was she in bed with?<br><br>Letty shifted once again, easing the arm from her waist and trying to slip out of bed without waking the girl, whoever she was. What the hell&nbsp; happened last night? Not being able to remember was making Letty feel very uneasy. She needed answers and she needed them now! The body beside her made a noise and shifted, causing Letty to squeak and panic. She tried to slip out of bed faster and ended up getting caught in the blankets, falling out of bed, and dragging the covers with her! <br></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>esclavage</strong> on <strong>21-05-2014, 07:43:38</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0e/Ginny_Avatar.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Virginia '<em><strong>Ginny</strong></em>' Mary Lou Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Whateley Family<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 13th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong> Ginny Whateley’s Home<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Christian 'Spooky' Spectre<br><hr>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/ec/Ginny-House.jpg)</div> There were things that Ginny didn't like about her house.&nbsp; For one, it wasn't the biggest house located on this side of the Tracks.&nbsp; Her personal allowance hadn't allowed for that and no amount of eyelash batting, lower-lip jutting, and stomping around on the Whateley Estate - whether in front of her father, Jebediah, or Granny had let her get her way.&nbsp; The second thing was the lack of an outdoor pool - it was about the only time Ginny could remember in recent history when Granny had actually been unhappy with her - after her fourth or fifth request to ask for funds the matriarch had fixed the blonde Whateley with a sharp gaze that had chilled her blood.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>"Young lady, keep this up and you won't have a home in the city at all.&nbsp; Nor an allowance.&nbsp; So unless you care to spend your evenings with me <em>quilting</em>...I would suggest you forget all about pools."</strong><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The dreaded 'Q' word - if there was one thing that terrified Ginny almost more than anything else, it was sewing.&nbsp; She had sworn many a time that the good Lord had created it to punish women for their wicked, sinful ways that led to man's fall.&nbsp; More than once, she had thought to bring it up with one of the Fathers to see if her theory was founded in scripture.&nbsp; So that had been the last time Ginny had ever dared breathe a word about having an outdoor pool while she was back visiting her family at the estate.&nbsp; Admittedly, it didn't stop her from looking out over the significant plot of land she owned and giving a sigh every now and then.&nbsp; Even the peach trees she had planted and which were lovingly tended by the hired gardener were not enough.&nbsp; Things as they were now were just too...big in her backyard; if she closed her eyes, she could just imagine said desired pool right in the center.&nbsp; How lovely that would have been!&nbsp; The blonde Whateley would have been able to spend most of her summer days lounging right by the cool, crystal clear water.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Instead, she had to settle for boring baths in her large cooper tub.&nbsp; It simply wasn't the same.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Of course, Ginny wasn't stupid.&nbsp; She understood why she couldn't have a pool in her backyard.&nbsp; When men died of thirst in the lawless area called Soddom, drawing attention to yourself in a foolhardy way was sure to get you killed - no matter how wealthy you were.&nbsp; Admittedly, she found it a little unfair.&nbsp; Why should she be punished?&nbsp; If she could afford the water, then it was hers to do with as she pleased - wasn't it?<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Still, there were things that she could still be proud of.&nbsp; Ginny had tried to stay true to her southern roots - which was why the front of the house sported the tall roman pillars and everything was painted a pristine white.&nbsp; There was also a swinging porch off to the right where she would often spend her time in when it was cooler in the evening.&nbsp; Honestly, there wasn't a house in the whole town of Gomorra that looked like hers- no, Ginny's house was quite unique in that regard.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;And so, when Christian politely rapped on the door, Ginny was there to answer it after a short wait.&nbsp; Of course, she could have let one of the hired servants do it, but this was her personal guest and she wasn't planning on sparing any expense.&nbsp; The blonde Whateley was dressed casually, wearing a loose, white cotton shirt with the first three buttons undone and the front end untucked.&nbsp; The sleeves were also rolled up to around her elbows, giving off a comfortable appearance - an image reinforced by her hair which was messily pinned up at the moment with a stray blonde curl falling here or there.&nbsp; A pair of denim jeans clung to her hips, perfectly sized, given how closely they hugged her skin and a little black leather belt was looped around her waist - more for show than for practicality.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Upon seeing the dust-covered man, she broke out into a pleased smile.&nbsp; <strong>"Ah tho'ght ah told yuh tah call muh 'Ginny'..."</strong>&nbsp; Her tone was chiding, but without any real rancor, as she ushered him into her house.&nbsp; &nbsp;Upon coming through the large, French double-doors, there was a large entryway where guests could hang up any coats if they desired.&nbsp; To the right, there seemed to be a large sitting room - to the left, a even larger dining room.&nbsp; The kitchen was in the back.&nbsp; The servant quarters were joined there, out of sight and out of mind.&nbsp; A smaller guest bedroom was also located in the back on the rare occasion family stayed with her.&nbsp; There was a long winding staircase that lead upstairs to Ginny's personal quarters - and she needed both large bedrooms that were located upstairs, primarily as a place to store all her clothes.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>"Did yuh need'tah wash up?"</strong>&nbsp; Ginny turned to beckon Christian to come further before directing him to a basin with cold water and a wash cloth beside it.&nbsp; Delicious smells began to saturate the air as the blonde Whateley briefly ducked into the kitchen.&nbsp; <strong>"Ah hope yuh like chi'ken pot pie, mash'tatos, and carrots'nd peas.&nbsp; Plus uh glass'o two of swee'tea."</strong>&nbsp; Her chest puffed out a little as she stated all these things; Ginny was surprisingly a more competent cook than others might have guessed.&nbsp; It had been part of the training and upbringing she had received - and in this case, she had chosen to make all the food herself.&nbsp; Admittedly, when it was simply her alone, Ginny let the hired help take everything of everything - from cooking to cleaning.&nbsp; But when it was her guest?&nbsp; The blonde Whateley did everything on her own.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>"And if yuh still gat'oom aftert'at, ah've made sum peach cobbler too..."</strong>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>23-05-2014, 18:23:42</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0e/Corky.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Cordelia “Corky” Hendricks<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Law Dogs<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 12th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open, Letty<br><hr>Corky was dimly aware of the sudden shift of her little spoon, and then the plunk of a Mexican bottom onto the floor of her bedroom.&nbsp; She just rolled onto her belly, stretching out on the sheet beneath her, and for a moment sprawled happily on the bed by herself, her large bosom squeezed against the sheets and her bare fanny facing the ceiling.&nbsp; She gave a sleepy kind of grumble, a wordless noise of protest, and stretched lazily across the bed.&nbsp; She was far more <em>womanly</em> than she’d been when she was dressed and in her pigtails, red hair spilling out over pale freckled skin, and hips and a bosom that were feminine and not girlish.&nbsp; <br><br>All of which was ruined by the owlish gaze she gave to the woman spilled on her floor, and the grumpy expression when she realized she was laying buck naked in the bed after only a handful of hours of sleep.&nbsp; She’d been dreaming of her father’s cabin, of being taught to shoot, of bagging her first bear before she was taller than his hip, and the look of pride in his eyes.&nbsp; Dark forests and endless green to the north, the cold winters that left everything covered in snow and breaking wood with an axe when her breath turned to frost, only to run inside and throw more wood on the fire and snuggle with him inside a blanket and wait for the cold to melt away.<br><br>But she was suddenly naked, and cold, and sleep-addled.&nbsp; It was way too early to be rising - the Law Dogs didn’t encounter a lot of trouble in the early hours of the morning.&nbsp; The miners were asleep, and the townsfolk were usually just getting ready for the day, and the shop keepers and workers in the town were rarely any sort of trouble.&nbsp; No, darkness was when the Law Dogs were needed most, so the early morning hours was a cherished time to sleep.<br><br>So she did what seemed logical to a sleep addled mind - she slithered across the bed, to the floor, and plunked down next to Letty, tugged the blanket back around her, and slid an arm around Letty’s waist and curled next to her.<br><br>“S’not time’m’get up yet,” she murmured, and tucked herself back against the woman.&nbsp; She wrinkled her nose.&nbsp; “Bed’s cozier than the floor,” she added, a little reproachfully.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Loves</strong> on <strong>24-05-2014, 02:02:10</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i975.photobucket.com/albums/ae240/samanthamazur/123113XVGe0iUX_zps46cbf3be.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Aletta Emelda Maria Sanchez (aka Letty) (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9815927#msg9815927)<br><strong>Faction:</strong> none<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 12th, 1877<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Morning… ugh!&nbsp; <br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Corky, and Avery’s letter. <br><hr><br><div style="text-align: justify;">Corky had a point. It was mighty early to be up when Letty felt like the business end of a horse, and the bed was much more comfortable than the hard wooden floor. The thought of mulling over her options seemed to be an exhausting endeavor for her sleepy, and somewhat wounded mind. They didn’t call it the devil’s drink for nothing! <strong>”Sí, la cama es más suave”</strong> agreed the young Mexican. The bed was a might more softer, but it would take effort to get back to it. The question was, did she have the will to move? <br><br>A smile tugged at her lips when it occured to her that she hadn’t felt the least bit awkward with Corky tucked against her side, sharing body heat. In fact, the feeling of another warm and soft female body pressed close to her own brought back memories of her childhood, and more specifically her sister. The angry fog lifted from her brain, giving way to more tender feelings as she looked to the sleepy redhead a ther side. <strong>”gracias, por favor, podemos volver a la cama”</strong> it took a moment for her mind to catch up with her mouth when Letty realized she was speaking in her native tongue. <strong>”Forgive me, what I mean to say is…. thank you for your kindness… I reckon you’re right, we should head back to bed. I’m sorry to have waken you.</strong><br><br>She smiled at Corky, wincing only when the blanket slipped from her head, startling her with the early light of day. It felt like a knife cutting through her head causing Letty to groan and seek shelter. She pulled herself back onto the bed, sitting on the side, hoping the room would stop spinning. Curling up in a little ball, Letty sighed, and winced simultaneously. She waited for Corky to resume her place in the bed, hoping that a few more hours might just be what she needed to wake up feeling halfway human again. </div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>26-05-2014, 00:33:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0e/Corky.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Cordelia “Corky” Hendricks<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Law Dogs<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 12th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open, Letty<br><hr>Letty poked open an eye when she was going on in Spanish.&nbsp; She liked the language, and she’d picked up a word or two from hanging around Onneca’s from time to time, but for the most part she didn’t know more than a few words here and there.&nbsp; She smiled at the sounds of it, the words sounding like soothing rain, and curled against Letty’s side, starting to drift off on the floor.<br><br>Then she blinked and gave a slow smile when she was being thanked for her kindness, giving a little grin and nodding when Letty came to the same conclusion about the importance of beds.&nbsp; She cracked one eye open, watching her for a moment, noting the red in her eyes and the winces from the cruel intrusion of sunlight.<br><br>“Mmm… get up in there,” she offered, standing and baring a crimson thatch while she helped Letty into the bed, and then meandering to the door.&nbsp; She took the steps downstairs one at a time - noteworthy only because she normally took them in threes - and went to pour a mug of water from a pitcher and bring it back up with a large roll of day old bread.<br><br>She offered the bread and the water to Letty.&nbsp; “Don’t get crumbs in my bed,” she said, affectionately enough, and waited until she’d finished the mug and had her fill of the bread before slipping back into the bed and sliding against Letty’s side.&nbsp; She slid her head to Letty’s shoulder, curvy body spilling against her side, and dropped right back to sleep without another word.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Loves</strong> on <strong>02-06-2014, 06:31:35</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i975.photobucket.com/albums/ae240/samanthamazur/123113XVGe0iUX_zps46cbf3be.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Aletta Emelda Maria Sanchez (aka Letty) (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9815927#msg9815927)<br><strong>Faction:</strong> none<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 12th, 1877<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Later in the day&nbsp; :P&nbsp; &nbsp; (second attempt to wake up)<br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Corky, and Avery’s letter. <br><hr><br><div style="text-align: justify;">Letty didn’t need to be told twice. Getting back into bed was exactly what her poor body and mind needed to recover. The drink was indeed the devil! At least it was the next morning. But wasn’t that the issue… you never thought of the next morning when you were enjoying the night of booze and song (and god knows what else might have gone on).&nbsp; Of course it was heavily depended upon how much you drank as to how high the payment was the next day. From the throbbing in the back of her eyes Letty figured she must of drank her way through her body weight in whiskey! Whatever the truth was, she was pretty sure vowing never to do such a thing again was commonplace at this juncture. <br><br>Her eyes closed the moment Letty’s head hit the pillow, leaving the room in darkness once more. It felt good to lay still. The room was quiet, leaving nothing to measure the pounding in her head but the steady beat of her heartbeat. How long she had remained still and alone was anyones guess, but the second Corky returned, Letty was aware of the girls presence in the room. It was like the very air had been disturbed and was now pressing against her throbbing temples. <br><br>One eye cracked open, revealing the welcoming site of Croky with a mug of water and bread. It was just what Letty needed at that moment, and so she opened both eyes and pushed herself up into a sitting position. <strong>”Gracias”</strong> whispered Letty as she accepted the water and bread, and attempted to smile over the gentle teasing. The water was cool, and&nbsp; helped the dry and itchy throat feel ten times better than it had when she had first woken. Letty had been sure someone had parked half of the desert’s sand in her throat, making it almost painful to talk. The bread hit the spot, and was consumed slowly, as if testing her stomach for any sign of protest. She managed half of the roll before her body demanded more sleep. <br><br><strong>”I will be sure to clean up any mess I’ve caused”</strong> mumbled Letty as she curled up against Corky and let sleep take her once more. The now familiar scent of the sweet redhead was comforting, allowing Letty to slip into a dreamless sleep.<br><br>The sound of birds singing really loudly pulled Letty from a sleep, causing her to gingerly open her eyes and glance around. Once more it took a second or two for her mind and memory to catch up with one another. She felt better than she had the first time she had fallen out of bed, but not by much.&nbsp; <strong>”Dios mío tengo que regresar al rancho. Aggy tendrá mi cabeza”</strong> and it was true. Aggy would be worried and ready to serve Letty’s head upon a platter after being out all night and not having a single word as to whether the girl was safe! But that would be an argument for later. For now, Letty needed her clothes…. and her horse. </div>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>06-06-2014, 07:34:14</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0e/Corky.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Cordelia “Corky” Hendricks<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Law Dogs<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 12th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter’s House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open, Letty<br><hr>There was some expression about not kicking someone out of bed for crackers-related infractions, and Corky considered it for a moment then grinned.&nbsp; She probably wouldn’t kick Letty out of bed for getting crumbs in the bed either, truth be told, and for a moment she considered the sleepy woman nursing the bread and the water.&nbsp; She remembered once, when she’d gone to Onneca to get fitted for something to wear under her shirt when she was running.&nbsp; It hadn’t been a problem when she was younger - but as she’d grown up and filled out, jogging down the main streets of Gomorra had been a little unpleasant.&nbsp; She still remembered the touch of Onneca’s hands on her skin, and the way it had made her belly tighten - and she didn’t know why the memory of it surfaced as she watched the rancher sipping water and chewing.&nbsp; She just knew that one moment ago she’d been completely comfortable - and the next she was suddenly and awkwardly aware of her own nudity, and she tugged back the covers and slipped in beside her, feeling a little less exposed with the sheets and the blankets to give her a semblance of modesty.<br><br><em>Why’m I blushin?</em><br><br>She shook her head.&nbsp; <strong>”Naw, ain’t a problem,”</strong> she promised.&nbsp; Then Letty was curling back against her, and she felt the press of her own skin against Letty’s, and sleep didn’t come quite as easily as it had before.&nbsp; The bed felt warmer, the room warmer, and she wasn’t sure it had everything to do with the sunlight coming in through the window.&nbsp; <br><br>She finally drifted off though - to dreams of kisses with dead, honorable lawmen and demure shopkeepers and to ranchers that smelled like whiskey.&nbsp; She curled close to Letty, wrapping her tight and occasionally murmuring in her sleep.&nbsp; Her lips brushed the back of Letty’s neck on occasion, acting out the torrid kisses that danced through her dreams, until finally she stilled and drifted into something deeper.<br><br>She woke slowly when she was being addressed, blinking at the foreign language and looking at the pretty Mexican woman who looked down on her.&nbsp; Her arm was snaked around Letty’s waist, and she didn’t understand what was being said.&nbsp; “Mmmhmm,” she nodded, and closed her eyes and tucked herself back against Letty’s side.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Home Sweet Home (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Loves</strong> on <strong>26-06-2014, 20:45:29</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i975.photobucket.com/albums/ae240/samanthamazur/123113XVGe0iUX_zps46cbf3be.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Aletta Emelda Maria Sanchez (aka Letty) (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9815927#msg9815927)<br><strong>Faction:</strong> none<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 12th, 1877<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Later in the day&nbsp; :P&nbsp; &nbsp; (second attempt to wake up)<br><strong>Location:</strong> Nathan Hunter's House<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Corky, and Avery’s letter. <br><hr><br><div style="text-align: justify;">Letty rubbed her eyes and tried to bring her mind into focus. What was the time of the day? With the sun blazing in the sky it had to be close to lunch time. She moved swiftly from the bed with a surge of energy, trying to remain as quiet as she could considering the sleeping Corky. But she knew she had to get a move on, regardless of her general health! Her head felt as if it weighed as much as three horses and a few pigs, but she had to ignore her body’s pleas for sleep. Looking around noticed her clothing off to one side, piled neatly upon a chair. She almost shouted a prayer of thanks before making a beeline for simple spun dress. It wasn’t much but it covered her well enough. <br><br>Once dressed Letty ran her fingers through her hair, flinching as she caught a nasty knot. The pull on her roots was enough to make her want to be sick! A wave of nausea had her reaching out to steady herself before glancing over to be sure that Corky was still asleep. It looked to her that the redhead was fast asleep and so Letty tip toed across the room and tried her best to open the door without causing too&nbsp; much noise. Once she was in the hallway, Letty left the bedroom door ajar so to keep from having to cause more creaking before padding down the staircase in search of her hat. <br><br>It wasn’t all that hard to find her hat as it was resting on a table. It wasn’t until Letty got closer to it before she realized there was note sticking from the brim. For reasons she still wasn’t sure of, Letty looked around the room, as if she would find the author of the note still in the room! The thought was ridiculous of course, but logic wasn’t running high on her abilities that morning! Slipping the note from the envelope, Letty held the paper at various lengths from her eyes, hoping she would find the magic spot to allow the words to come into focus. It took a moment or two, but at last she was able to read the message left specifically for her. <br><br><em><span style="font-family: andale mono;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">Miss Sanchez,<br><br>I hope the morning finds you refreshed and in renewed spirits.&nbsp; You may discover the events of last evening grown hazy with the new day but needn’t worry for neither your reputation nor virtue shall find any cause for alarm.&nbsp; The free refreshment at Babel Tower merely proved of stronger vintage than you are apparently accustomed but Miss Hendricks was kind of enough to allow you the use of a bed for the night to recover.&nbsp; Feel no embarrassment, for it is a forgivable offense nearly all have fallen prey to at some time, and no harm has resulted.&nbsp; <br><br>“If to her share some errors fall/Look on her face, you’ll forget them all.”&nbsp; <br><br>Fancifully yours,<br>A. </span></span></em> <br><br>For a long moment Letty just stood in the living room staring at the paper in her hand. The words were all there, giving her reassurance over the period of time that she couldn’t recall. So why was she disappointed? It didn’t make sense to her. A… if only she could remember his name! had been great, making sure she was safe and not taking advantage of her weakened state. Her eyes narrowed as illogically she wondered why he had&nbsp; not. Was she not good enough for him to take advantage of? Her latin blood began to sizzle at the very idea that this.. this…man who she could not remember the name of had no wish to take advantage of her! <br><br>Taking the time to fold the letter neatly, Letty tucked it against her breast before turning to search of another piece of paper so that she could leave a note of her own. It was just a quick thank you, assuring Corky that Letty was beyond grateful for her kindness and that if there was anything at all that Letty could do for the young lawdog that she only had to ask. <br><br>With her sincere thanks left in the note, Letty moved towards the door to let herself out. Only after making sure all was well and the letter was left on the table where it could be seen did Letty finally leave the home that&nbsp; had given her shelter during her time of vulnerability. She made her way to the blacksmiths to collect her horse and refused to rise to the man’s teasing. He had of course heard all about Letty’s performance at the Inn, and no doubt by now so had her employer. There was nothing left to do but face the music… that and find out who A is and give him her apologies for causing him such trouble, but that could wait for another day.<br></div><br><br><div align="center">~End of Scene for Letty~ </div>
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		</dl>
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