Susan Delgado (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
girl_at_the_window) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2021-10-16 12:17 am
girl_at_the_window) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-10-16 12:17 am
OPEN | at the changing of the seasons
WHO: Susan, OTA (closed prompts in comments)
WHAT: Roaming the Horizon and Nott; a couple of closed prompts
WHEN: October catch-all
WHERE: Nott, the Horizon
WARNINGS: Slutshaming, talk of pregnancy loss, gore/violence, emeto.
[ I | Nott ]
Susan has, at least on the surface, fitted herself pretty neatly into life in Nott. She can often be found by the docks, her long hair bound up under a cap, helping to unload boats or gut fish or whatever other work is going. It isn't a lot, but it's enough to keep body and soul together - and it's enough to keep her mind busy, which counts for something.
And she watches. She's gotten good at watching, keeping an eye on the comings and goings of folk around the streets. It feels... important, somehow, to keep alert to what's happening. If she sees someone she recognises, from the cells or from the castle, she'll whistle to draw their attention. "Hile! Over here!"
When there's no work, and she's not sleeping back at the inn - she spends less and less of her waking time there, just long enough to sleep and share out her takings - she spends most of her time sitting on the waterfront, her bare feet dangling in the cold water of the lake. Restlessness wars with weariness, and both with loneliness. She won't object if anyone comes to sit by her, either.
---
[ II | Horizon ]
When restlessness wins out over weariness, the Horizon ends up calling her. Her domain has some space to move, after all. It isn't as large as some, but she maintains its borders, gives herself a good-sized field to roam in. There's still a ranch house there - still just as she left it, back in her old life - but she's almost never inside it. She prefers to sit out on the stoop, beneath the summer sun of a perpetually warm evening - or, more often, to roam the grassy slope.
You may find her in the quarter she's designated for target practice, stony-faced and intently focused as she fires shot after shot from Roland's gun at the bottles set up on the wall. She's getting better - but she's not necessarily getting better at noticing who's around, so don't walk in front of the firing line.
Sometimes, the limited scope of her domain isn't enough. At those times, she saddles up a horse - almost always the big bay, Pylon - and rides out more widely, exploring others' domains. She cuts a strange figure in some of them, no doubt, a girl dressed like a vaquero in serape and wide-brimmed hat, with the mark of the Lovers patterned into her clothes, riding a horse that looks too big for her. But she'll tip her hat, for all the world as though she has the right to be there, and rein in her horse as she approaches.
"Nice place, sai."
Never hurts, after all, to be polite.
---
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WHAT: Roaming the Horizon and Nott; a couple of closed prompts
WHEN: October catch-all
WHERE: Nott, the Horizon
WARNINGS: Slutshaming, talk of pregnancy loss, gore/violence, emeto.
[ I | Nott ]
Susan has, at least on the surface, fitted herself pretty neatly into life in Nott. She can often be found by the docks, her long hair bound up under a cap, helping to unload boats or gut fish or whatever other work is going. It isn't a lot, but it's enough to keep body and soul together - and it's enough to keep her mind busy, which counts for something.
And she watches. She's gotten good at watching, keeping an eye on the comings and goings of folk around the streets. It feels... important, somehow, to keep alert to what's happening. If she sees someone she recognises, from the cells or from the castle, she'll whistle to draw their attention. "Hile! Over here!"
When there's no work, and she's not sleeping back at the inn - she spends less and less of her waking time there, just long enough to sleep and share out her takings - she spends most of her time sitting on the waterfront, her bare feet dangling in the cold water of the lake. Restlessness wars with weariness, and both with loneliness. She won't object if anyone comes to sit by her, either.
---
[ II | Horizon ]
When restlessness wins out over weariness, the Horizon ends up calling her. Her domain has some space to move, after all. It isn't as large as some, but she maintains its borders, gives herself a good-sized field to roam in. There's still a ranch house there - still just as she left it, back in her old life - but she's almost never inside it. She prefers to sit out on the stoop, beneath the summer sun of a perpetually warm evening - or, more often, to roam the grassy slope.
You may find her in the quarter she's designated for target practice, stony-faced and intently focused as she fires shot after shot from Roland's gun at the bottles set up on the wall. She's getting better - but she's not necessarily getting better at noticing who's around, so don't walk in front of the firing line.
Sometimes, the limited scope of her domain isn't enough. At those times, she saddles up a horse - almost always the big bay, Pylon - and rides out more widely, exploring others' domains. She cuts a strange figure in some of them, no doubt, a girl dressed like a vaquero in serape and wide-brimmed hat, with the mark of the Lovers patterned into her clothes, riding a horse that looks too big for her. But she'll tip her hat, for all the world as though she has the right to be there, and rein in her horse as she approaches.
"Nice place, sai."
Never hurts, after all, to be polite.
---
[[PM or plurk me at