We saw you headin' back with a shovel, Miss Katherine

OOM: Galveston, Texas | 1888 | For Loki and Mireille

2014-03-05T05:44:25Z

[following this:]

The door opens up to a fancy hotel room. It may not be as rich as some Loki has seen in his time, but as Kate leads him through the door he'll notice the grand four-poster bed, the fine washstand with an array of soaps and perfumes set out, the gold-framed mirror and the clean plaster walls. Kate keeps it immaculate, her things contained on a vanity table and hidden inside an oak armoire. The only thing astray is a book, which is kept next to the bed.

"Ain't exactly proper, leadin' a man out of my bedroom."

Her lips twist. Milliways does love to complicate things.

"Mireille's room is next door."

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OOM: Room #100 -- For Tommy Gavin

2014-02-05T06:14:42Z

Her floor is a battleground of hastily discarded clothes.

She's come to love the steady comfort of having him in her bed night after night, but she'll never tire of the way he pulls at her when they've been separated for a long stretch, eager to get her alone, to have her all to himself. The nearly frantic, desperate love-making punctuated by clumsy hands and a mad rush to find a flat surface; the way they pause only long enough to regather their steam, and then start all over again.

During one of these pauses, he hovers over her, dropping kisses up and down her neck, and she traces the lines around his eyes with her thumb, giggling. He grumbles at her, which only makes her laugh more. At least I'll always know when you're foolin' around, she says, because you'll stop pinnin' me down when you've gone too long without.

Hey! A month is a really long time!

The night passes slowly, bleeding into morning. Work hangs over them both. Kate wants to check on the stock, and Tommy's always ready to get back to the firehouse. It'll be a long day on little sleep, with nothing but a hot shower to bolster them. Well. A hot shower and what goes on while they're taking it.

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OOM: All Hallows' Eve, New York, with Tommy Gavin pt. 3

2014-02-01T05:01:07Z

[following this:]

( We aren't saying Lou's a spy, but he does have this uncanny way of getting you to talk... )

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OOM: All Hallows' Eve, New York, with Tommy Gavin pt. 2

2014-01-29T21:41:14Z

[following this:]

( Just because Tommy is working doesn't mean Kate can't enjoy the city on her own... )

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OOM: All Hallows' Eve, New York, with Tommy Gavin pt. 1

2014-01-29T20:30:40Z

[following this:]

( It's dark when Kate wakes... )

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OOC: Discussion Post for the Age Spell Plot Heist

2013-10-15T01:12:03Z

Howdy, ladies and gents!

Here's the nitty-gritty: as of this thread here, Kate's gotten it into her head that there's some shady business going on in this here saloon only the foremost expert on Jesse James can set to rights. With Natasha, her new partner, extolling the virtues of the communist party, they've decided all the sweets should be liberated for the benefit of every child in the bar to have and share fairly.

What this means IC: Katherine and Natasha are looking to round up a gang of girls their age to pull a heist, their main quarry being ice cream and sarsaparilla. Think of it not as a Boston Tea Party so much as an End of the Universe Root Beer Float Party. They'll need lookouts, girls who can provide distraction and cover, and the type of lion-hearted young women who can make off with all the sweets they can carry. The gang will escape with their bounty, heading for the tree fort outside (which will be their hideout).

Midway through the heist, a snooping boy is going to come round threatening to tattle on them — who else would it be but Tommy Gavin? He's going to be taken captive.

What this means OOC: I'd like to set the heist itself up in an OOM (which I have drafted here), with their escape to the tree fort set up as a party post in the bar. I'm keeping this very relaxed, freeform, and open. As of Kate's EP from yesterday, if your character hasn't come around to meet her it can be handwaved that they were conscripted by Katherine or Natasha at some point during their plotting; this way we can leap straight into the fun. There won't be any tagging order; it will be first come, first served, and follow the IC outline highlighted above. That way, everyone who would like to participate can do so at their leisure as their schedule permits, and play to the strengths of their pups. Would your pup be in the thick of it, stuffing cookies into a sack? Or perhaps shouting strategy from the sidelines? As long as it doesn't violate basic player courtesy (no godmodding, keep to the bar rules, etc), you can run with your ideas. I'd love to make this the silliest most inclusive heist possible, giving everyone a chance to jump in.

While the OOM itself has to follow a closed arc—from Katherine and Natasha rallying the troops, to raiding the kitchens and Bar, to making their escape—the party post will take place after the heist is complete and be open to absolutely anyone, boy, girl, adult or child. It'll work like your standard lake party, where you can tag around where you like (the victorious posse will be enjoying the fruits of their labor and no doubt taunting their captive). If you're having trouble thinking of where your character can fit in, that might be a good place to send them. I'll keep the OOM open to as many people as would like to participate, as long as I know there's interest, even if you can only spare one tag to establish your character as being there. When players have to hit the hay or step away from the computer, action will continue and come back to that character if and when the player returns. Here's an example of how I see things going:

[Kate tags:] Kate dons a parka and goes to the back of the ice box, grabbing cartons of ice cream and handing them to Natasha. "Golly, do you think we can sneak all this out, without gettin' caught?"
[Natasha tags:] She piles the cartons into a basket. "Maybe not all, but most. We have good numbers."
[Noriko tags:] Meanwhile, Nori is behind the Bar, gathering bottles of root beer and cola, while keeping an eye out for snooping adults.

If we piece the OOM together in this fashion, characters can jump in for a tag or two, and jump out again. If two characters are specifically interacting, I just ask that you keep conversation light and brief. This is a heist! They've got to get in and get out quick! Deeper conversation can happen in the party post, after the job is done.

Comment here and let's discuss. Your mighty bosses are Katherine and Natasha, and the posse as it stands from the backroom post will include Noriko Ashida, Valentine Wiggin, Vanellope von Schweetz, Jessica Drew, Maid Marian, Thirteen, and Dixie Cousins, with appearances by Tommy Gavin and possibly Steve McGarrett. This is by no means a closed plot — if you, reading along, want to toss someone else in, absolutely do so. This is the place to ask questions, offer ideas, or plot — as well as keep track of who's jumping in and tagging. Although, I might suggest tracking the OOM, too.

I'll also be on AIM: ikissdhimbck

Tagging can begin immediately. Natasha has already gotten things started. Check in when you're able; like Kate says, a posse means nobody gets left behind. ^__^

ETA 10/17: It looks like we're pretty close to wrapping up the heist part of the plot, with prisoner well in hand. So everybody who hasn't gotten a tag in yet, or has something else they'd like to do before they flee to the tree fort, now is your chance. Go ahead and tag in anywhere that feels right. Soon, Kate will give the call to flee for their hideout, and the action will move to the party post. Would it be best for everyone if the party post went up tonight, or tomorrow morning or afternoon? If there are no strong opinions, I'll probably leave the end of the night for wrapping up the OOM and then put the party post up tomorrow early in the day.

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OOM: don't let your daughters grow up to be cowgirls...

2013-10-15T00:20:06Z

[Sometime after this...]

Sure, so there's nothing suggesting foul play about this strange place. But Kate still don't like it, and after the scouting mission she went on with her new friend, they found it was far more horrible than they could have imagined. A kitchen, truly vast, filled with so much food — and sweets. An icebox full of fruit and jams and jellies, cakes, pies, and ice cream. More food than a thousand people could eat in a thousand days! Natasha and Katherine knew what they had to do.

"Listen up!"

(They had their tea, weighed their options, and drew their maps and plans in detail. X's marked the places where the food and drinks were kept, question marks swirled over the Magical Bar, and dashes detailed an escape route out the back door toward the forest. Nobody would ever catch them, and there were more than enough other children to pull it off. They just had to convince them their mission was just.)

"The plan is simple. While the adults ain't looking, we clear out the cupboards. Nobody knows who's in charge here; ain't none of us have seen our mamas an' papas. Ain't you tired of not knowin' what's goin' on? Of havin' to ask? Of adults tellin' us no sweets 'cuz they'll rot our teeth? We just want our fair share, an' we want it for every one of us! Why do they get t'keep it all locked up?"

She nods to Natasha.

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OOM: Milliways grounds - lunch with Tommy

2013-10-04T18:43:26Z

It's Tommy's first day working in the stables. Kate sets him up with a grooming bucket and shows him what to do, handling her morning chores between bringing him horses — though she works a little more aggressively than usual. It's just been a few days since Tommy fought with Voodoo, and despite his claims that he feels much better, the bruises have mottled and turned uglier colors. Kate's temper hasn't abated, and likely never will. God help Voodoo if he ever tries approaching her.

Once it's time for afternoon tea, Tommy suggests they go someplace quiet to eat together. It only takes her a moment to decide on the field out beyond the lake where she likes to take Beaut from time to time. Instructing him to finish up and put his tools away, she heads out first, on horseback. It's a typical sight around this time of day, so nobody else is likely to suspect she'll be meeting someone.

When Tommy does mosey along, he'll find her just a few paces away from the beaten path in a great field of dandelions and poppies. Beaut is grazing freely while she's unpacking a basket of food on a large checkered blanket.

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OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin

2013-08-26T02:18:29Z

Tonight isn't any different than most other nights. Tommy stops in late, long after Kate returns from her nightly chores, washes up, and changes into something clean and comfortable. He brings along dinner, and the two sup together in comfortable silence.

It's been a tiring period for them both. Sometimes a quiet dinner is just what they need.

They're only just finishing up. Soon, she'll tenderly peel him out of his clothes and put him to bed with her, watching over him until he's relaxed enough to fall asleep.

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OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin

2013-07-28T04:50:26Z

[Following this:]

The sun's just setting when Kate heads in from the stables. Lately, she's been staying out after dark, but tonight she needs to clean up before Tommy stops by.

Her room is untidy, a 'tee-vee' and 'dee-vee-dee player' on a rolling cart stationed in front of her bureau. There's a small stack of films lying nearby. The table in the corner is covered with dirtied glasses and half-empty — or completely empty — liquor bottles, used tissues, and cupcake wrappers.

She unlocks the door and steps in, greeted by the expectant mewling of her cats. Taking off her gun belt, she leaves it on the chest by the foot of her bed, and heads into the washroom. She feeds the boys, and takes a quick bath.

By the time Tommy stops by, the bed will be made and the trash collected, the glasses stacked to be washed later and the bottles pushed aside. A few tissues escape her notice under the T.V. cart, but at least she feels mostly presentable.

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OOM: Stables for Dr. Hannibal Lecter -- Kate's first session

2013-07-13T22:10:46Z

It's late afternoon on a Saturday, and all of Kate's chores have been squared away. Most of the hands are here in the mornings, leaving the afternoons a little less busy, and the evenings even more so. Kate knows today is the day Dr. Lecter will be coming by, and so she's seen to it they'll have a modicum of privacy.

She's left the desk clean and organized, and taken the chair out to the back paddocks. The ones in the far back are being used right now, so she sets the chair near the railing edging the forest near the stables' back exit. The horses not in their stalls are all out front, leaving things pretty empty out here.

Once that's settled, she waits by the side entrance for the good doctor.

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OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin Pt. 2

2013-07-02T23:19:14Z

[a little after this...]

She looks for reasons to stay in the stables as late as possible, but eventually she can dally no longer. They're practically sparkling, and all the animals are in for the night. Beaut's cooled down after her ride around the lake, and is cocking her ear at Kate like she knows something the woman doesn't.

All right, you nag.

True to his word, Tommy's waiting for her when she gets back to her room. They share a meal, quietly conversing about New York, and 'anniversary' plans; she reminds him it's getting close to her anniversary here, and how she's been thinking about leaving awhile. They seem a little shy to set the other off, and so discussions stay light and open. It's late by the time they're through.

He invites her to come to bed, and she sends him ahead, saying she'd like to stay up and read for a spell. He doesn't fight her on it, perhaps because he knows she's uncomfortable about something. She typically sleeps well enough when Tommy's here, but he's usually worn her out before they drop off; it doesn't seem worth the gamble tonight.

She's only ten pages through her book when he starts to sigh, all the while tossing and turning. He coaxes her to join him, and with a good deal of long-suffering patience, she closes her book and does just that.

He's got her wrapped up in his arms when she finally drops off.

It feels nice.

For the first time in months, she dreams about her daddy dying: his body carried up the hill to her childhood home, breast stained red, dust curling in the air as they drop him at her feet. Trout's there, telling her she brought it on herself. Sam reaches out to her with that questioning tone, the last words he ever spoke ringing in her ears.

'...Kate?'

She's on a boat. Sam's face explodes beside her, iron rain pattering on her skin. She's screaming, but she isn't making a sound. Trout overturns Sam's boat into a sea of scorpions, writhing and snapping, some big enough you could ride. She's caught in a maelstrom of them, and the more she fights the more it feels like quicksand, the more her limbs feel heavy and dumb. She fights harder, and harder, but she's sinking.

The sky is red, and in the middle of it all a hole opens up, sucking everything up like so much refuse.

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OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin

2013-06-28T00:54:59Z

[following this:]

Kate makes her way up the stairs slowly, turning the corner to her room without the slightest hullabaloo. Once she's slipped inside and locked the door behind her, she starts peeling out of her clothes.

Linen blouse is folded neatly over her desk chair.

Gun belt is spread on the chest at the foot of her bed.

Boots are lined up at the door, prim as you please.

By the time she hears the lock rattling behind her, she's in nothing but her camisole and her knickers, and when it swings open, followed by the sound of Tommy's voice, the former has been tugged over her head. She glances over her shoulder.

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OOM: Rachel (Part 1) -- Galveston, 1888

2013-06-27T00:11:56Z

"I wish he would make up his mind, ma, /
For I don’t care much longer to wait; /
I’m sure I have hinted quite strongly, /
That I thought about changing my state; /
For a sweetheart he’s really so backward, /
I can’t bring him out if I try; /
I own that he’s very good temper’d, /
But then he’s so dreadfully shy; /
I own that he’s very good temper’d, /
But then he’s so dreadfully shy!"

( She snickers; it's astounding how such an innocent ballad can be so tawdry when joined by hoots and hollers and wolf-whistling, the shake of ruffled skirts and the flash of stockinged thighs )

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OOM: T-minus, mark one

2013-05-29T07:15:48Z

[Sometime after this:]

Kate isn't sure she trusts the cavalier attitude toward illness in Milliways. Sure, they've made some remarkable leaps in medicine throughout the universe, but remarks like 'it's just the flu' and 'common cold' still make her gawp. This doesn't feel like just anything, and she's seen folk die from less.

She takes her medicine like a good patient, and agrees to bed rest to avoid staying in the infirmary. She mostly stays in bed — when nobody else is watching, even. However, that's to do mainly with how awful she's feeling, rather than any sudden change in disposition.

She's bored.

She's dying.

Doesn't anybody care?

She sets aside the last of the six books she borrowed from the library to keep herself occupied, and sighs. It quickly turns into a coughing jag. What's she going to do now?

--kismetBehest has logged on--

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Following Evergreen Mills, in Milliways

2013-04-06T20:46:37Z

( Kate wakes up in the stables )

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OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin

2013-03-24T05:47:37Z

[following this:]

It's a familiar sight.

Kate unlocks the door, and tugs Tommy inside. She hasn't let go of him the whole way upstairs, as if some part of her were afraid if she did he'd turn around and walk away. He's scaring her. Something awful has happened, and she doesn't know what it is, and she doesn't want him to be alone.

"Go take a seat at the table."

Her voice is gentle, pitched sweet enough to soothe a scared child. She's not looking for argument, however. Her eyes, clear and sharp, stay focused on his.

Please.

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OOM: I'm gonna be a wheel someday...

2013-03-16T19:27:19Z

( By the time she's been in Galveston a couple of weeks, she's made herself a fine routine )

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OOM: Galveston, Texas -- 1888

2013-03-16T01:30:54Z

[Previously...]

Ms. Katherine James appeared in Galveston one early August evening, astride a clear-eyed red dun with a stern young companion at her back. To say the apparition wasn't poetic, even for the bustling port town, would be a grievous omission.

On their first day in Galveston, Kate and Rachel install themselves in the first fancy hotel they agree upon; an opulent Greek Revival with a hotel saloon and all the latest comforts. Galveston's as big a city as you could hope for out West, and they find no trouble filling the hours with twenty-five cent baths perfumed with rose petals and lye soaps, hot square meals, entertainment, and the first comfortable night spent in their respective rooms — feather pillows and silk sheets — since they started on the trail east from Cuero.

It takes a few days for everyone to find each other. Ace is the first to ride in, followed a day later by Butch and Mireille. In that time, Kate takes to exploring the island. Her father would come home with stories after business trips and quick errands, but Kate herself has never been to the coastal cities. She's never seen the buildings pock-marked with salt mist and sun and mildew, or smelled the tangled gardens hung heavy on the muggy air. Galveston's a wealthy, modern, commercial gateway to cotton, cattle, and other trades, whose mercantile benefactors have made it a cultural and architectural showpiece without equal west of New York.

Having seen the New York of the future, that makes Kate smile privately. Wandering Galveston's urban streets makes her wonder if someday it will sprawl just as big, whereas now it swims like a guppy in the vast ocean of progress where New York City is a shark.

(And, unmentionable, unthinkable, comes the pang that accompanies remembering her trip to New York, where thoughts of Tommy are quickly suppressed.)

Kate catalogs the avenues, the back streets; making maps of getaway routes in her mind. The Strand spans Twentieth to Twenty-fifth Streets, a commercial epicenter akin to Wall Street, where she counts five enormous banks and eight newspapers. The former makes the gears in her mind crank, potentials endless, but she meekly skirts past the latter for fear of being recognized. Ms. Katherine James, daughter of wealthy cattle baron Elijah James, secretly the infamous kissing outlaw half of Texas now hunts. Wouldn't that sell a rag or two?

Punctuating the western end of the Strand is the Sante Fe Railroad station. Steam billows from an engine, which looks to her like an angry bull impatiently awaiting a rider; the rumble and ruckus of lever, engine, and air is low, but deafening. Kate wanders the limestone halls, glancing over newsstands in search of familiar names and dollar amounts. 'CUERO BANK ROBBED BY KISSIN' KATE!' But she sees nothing.

Yet.

She meanders through the East End, along Sealy, Ball, Winnie, and Church Streets, across Broadway where business gives way to extravagant Queen Anne style homes, fine cast-iron Gothic Revival verandas, wooden galleries, columns, and balustrades carved with intricate Gothic and Greek Revival designs — every ounce of wealth from the Strand on display, boasting, bragging. She pauses for a while outside the limestone and granite mansion she's told is the "Bishop's Palace", and wonders what it would be like to strip these people of their grand vestments. To show them what it's like to live like Viktoria, and the rest of the people of Cuero so long taken advantage of.

The thought passes.

She eventually makes her way back through the business district (and even it peacocks about, cast-iron facade decorations and iron hoods over every window), the ghostly scents of oleander and hibiscus melting away to German Jewish delicacies, the scent of the cotton mills, horses, and sweat. The occasional blast of salt and sea off the Gulf. The barking calls of merchants haggling, inviting, tempting; the sound of wagon wheels and clinking glasses and people laughing and crying and buying and selling and living.

It's a good place to get lost, if you're running from something.

But Kate stands in the broad way, and thinks to herself, Goddammit, I'm gonna make you people see me.

The trick will be not letting them see Weyland's giant mechanical bird first.

(Finding a suitable place for Hildegard didn't exactly come easily, but rich Victorians who rely on oil and shipping as their main trades don't have much use for plow, hoe, or most helpfully, barns. The golden bird tucks herself in the hayloft, nests in old straw; Mireille is satisfied, though some mean streak in Kate's humor is tempted to let her loose on those fine Queen Annes and watch the people scatter as she picks off cattle and sheep for snacks.)

Their first night all together, Butch, Ace, Mireille, Rachel, and Kate, is spent in celebration. Kate promised them a party, and she found one in the Garten Verein. The city's so bright and shiny with all the finest modern ideas that bona fide electricity lights up the German dancing pavilion, giving Kempner Park a soft, unearthly glow. Folk are nice enough, the night is warm, there's no lack for beer, and the time stretches on in laughter, dance, spirit and song. After the job, it's a needed respite. And before she can buy Butch that dinner she promised him, it's a welcome moment to spend in merriment.

For every thing there is a season.

For every wound, a salve.

For every job there is a time to spend, to keep breathing, to live.

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OOM: Galveston, Texas (1888) -- for Butch Cassidy

2013-03-14T03:25:32Z

[following this:]

They haven't been in Galveston but a few days when Butch asks to meet with her. She's been looking for a moment to talk with him anyhow, so she heads down to the hotel saloon after the rest of the group has turned in, where there's naught but a handful of folk lingering, mostly drunks, and finds him at a table in the corner.

"Howdy."

She sits herself down opposite, watching the candle flicker between them.

"How y'doin'?"

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OOM: I'm gonna catch that mare

2013-03-11T06:15:03Z

( When Katherine was eight years old ... )

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OOM: ... from now on your troubles will be out of sight.

2012-12-25T22:54:50Z

[following this:]

As Tommy is headed downstairs, Remy is headed up.

Not much has changed in Room #100.

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OOM: ... let your heart be light ...

2012-12-25T09:06:56Z

Christmas Eve.

The bar proper is full of holiday cheer. Decorations of all sorts, presents under the tree, the hum of laughter and song. It's inescapable.

Some rooms even have wreaths on their doors.

Not Room #100.

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OOM: Have yourself a merry little Christmas...

2012-12-25T05:55:36Z

It's the day before Christmas Eve. December.

Even looking at a calendar it's hard to believe she was gone the whole month of November. That's not what she had planned. She was only meant to be gone until All Hallow's passed, given a little time to ease herself into a month that makes her bones freeze whether she's in faux-Scotland or Texas, not dumped straight into the middle of it without any warning.

December.

How many years will it make it now since the Crockers put a bullet in her daddy's heart, just a few days shy of the holidays? About as many years since she last celebrated Christmas, she reckons. Is there really any point when the one you want to celebrate with ain't there? All her memories, all her traditions, tied so inexorably to her father that the thought of trying by herself made her cold.

Until last year.

It's been a topsy-turvy December, with money in her pocket and Tommy around. For the first time in a while, she hasn't been alone. But trying to explain why she sometimes goes quiet, staring off into space, arms hugged around herself and eyes so, so sad, isn't as easy as she thought it would be. They've talked, sure. He brought her to New York. But she hasn't told him everything; about the nightmares, or the conversation she had with her 'father' over All Hallow's Eve, or how it's creeping up on the anniversary of Sam's death, or the cold winter she spent trapped in a cabin in Colorado after putting Doc's body in the ground. The wind howls through the trees here, and it sounds like voices moaning, wailing, fingers scrabbling up out of the earth. The snow puts a chill in her skin that's only mirrored by the one in her heart.

She smiles, and tells him to spend the night with her. She flirts, and teases. Anything so long as she doesn't have to be alone; so long as he doesn't leave. And he makes her laugh. He makes her feel good. Some days, everything's all right. And she thinks about the promise she made to herself, alone in the desert; she thinks about trying to live again, and dares to feel hope.

Tommy's been gone for a few days now, and she can tell by the mood of the bar and the steadily growing pile of presents under the massive festive tree that Christmas Eve is growing near. She takes several deep breaths while she's settling affairs in the stables, letting the ice in the air burn her lungs. She hums under her breath, songs her daddy used to sing. And when she goes inside, she heads to Miss Bar to ask for holiday sweets and candles for her windows. She'll find a reason to celebrate this year.

She ends up with a note instead.

The words blur, along with the rest of the room. She doesn't know if she's more angry or hurt, shocked or ashamed. It's a tangled knot inside her that makes her feel sick, and through the thousands of thoughts screaming through her head she's able to discern one. Just one.

You were s'posed to be ... better.

Calmly, she conscientiously folds the note up into a perfect square, tucking it inside her vest pocket. And then she turns on her heel, abandoning everything else, and heads for the stairs. She doesn't hear anything. She doesn't see anything. She doesn't feel anything. With any luck, her door will be locked behind her before the first tears fall.

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OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin

2012-12-16T02:36:11Z

[following this:]

The room is dim.

Clothes are scattered here and there; on chairs, tabletops, hooked on books and baubles, scrunched under the bed. A pair of candles burn on the table in the corner.

The cats have had their fill of cream, and are curled quite happily in Dug's basket in the corner of the room.

The room's other occupants, sweat-slicked and tangled in sheets, are sprawled across the bed in wild positions, limbs dangling where they may, hands sneaking under damp cotton to touch each other. Pleasantly exhausted, they sip lazy kisses from each other's mouths.

And they've only just begun.

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