chaoscontrolstheworld - Tumblr blog

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

The Beast

A/N: New story...yep...

Pairings: Platonic/Romantic Logince

Summary: A beast kidnaps Logan who begins to slowly lose his memories while being with the beast and beings to grow attached to the furry, horned creature.

Warnings: Minor injuries to main characters, progressive amnesia, very small mention of blood

Word Count: 8399

“Put me down you…you…you, malicious cretin”, Logan cried out, hanging upside down from the monster’s grip. He was slung over the gigantic beast’s shoulder with his chest and face laying against the tattered cloak that hung from the furry shoulders, dragging along the ground and pulling mud with them. He’d been reading peacefully until Patton had asked him to alert the prince that dinner was ready. Logan had appeared in the room, looked around in amazement that the room was now looking more like a spooky forest, and then out of nowhere he was swooped off the ground and over this monster’s gigantic, hairy, cloth-covered shoulder. “I’m warning you. I am friends with this room’s occupant and should he learn of this he will be most unwilling to let you off easily”, Logan tried only to receive a small snort of laughter from the beast and a shake of the gigantic head atop the broad shoulders.

“No help”, a rough voice said, ground out like nails on a chalkboard through razor-sharp teeth and a wickedly forked tongue.

“Look here, Roman will not be pleased and neither will Patton or Virgil. Please unhand me beast”, Logan asked, adjusting his glasses as he crossed his arms and attempted to remain dignified as a fluffy tail tickled the top of his head, running against his cheek gently. The beast growled softly, but otherwise didn’t do anything to show he was listening to the words the logical facet had said. Logan sighed, looked at the ground and finally stopped squirming. No creature would dare harm a facet, not even the Dragon Witch. It was only a matter of time, he could wait with this beast for the others to find him and then they’d have dinner and forget this had ever happened. It wouldn’t be the first time a creature had kidnapped one of them.

The beast trekked through the forest, heavy footfalls the only thing to be heard for miles. Logan now realized just how empty the forest was, how dark the world around them had become. He instinctively shivered as a cold wind blew around them, whipping up dead leaves like they were mere toys, tossing them through the air and high into the sky before letting them fall gracefully to the ground. Eyes darted to and fro as shadows moved in the trees, another shiver wracking his body as his mind began to cloud over. It was as if fear were mixing with fog to form a layer over his mind, blocking everything out except for the unknown shadows and the howling winds.

Then a howl pierced the air, loud and sorrowful. Feet pounded the ground, cracking twigs and leaves echoing in the still forest as the beast stopped moving for a second, ears twitching under the hood of the cloak. Logan’s heart beat a little faster, he swallowed the accumulating saliva that was pooling in his mouth, chocking a little as he looked out at the dark forest. A fog was creeping in, dark shapes moving through the trees as a disguising mist descended upon the forest. The air chilled more and Logan caught himself rubbing his upper arms, trying to stave off the chill. His world twirled as the beast moved around, trying to see where the growling and snarling was coming from. Logan closed his eyes and bit his lip, now he may not have been in actual danger, but it certainly still felt like it.

He felt his body move without his input and opened his eyes a little to see the beast’s face as the beast pulled the hood of its cloak down, the sound of ripping fabric extending to Logan’s ears. It was an amalgamation of a bear, wolf, lion, tiger and some sort of horned animal, perhaps an elk. It had the eyes of a bear, the teeth of a lion, a few tiger-like markings in its shaggy fur, and the ears of a wolf. Its snout was long, teeth sticking up around it as if it had mandibular prognathism. The nose was dark and flat like a lion with small, thin whiskers protruding from around it. Horns jutted from its head like tree branches outspreading upwards from the beast’s skull. Extending from parts of the skull that weren’t the sides, but not quite the forehead either, somewhere between the sphenoid and frontal portions of the encasing bone structure. Logan wondered how such horns could have possibly fit underneath the cloak’s hood but remembered the ripping sound and noticed how a few pieces of fabric clung limply like flags to the horns. There was no way the horns could have fit like they did, and it was a certainty that the horns had been sticking through torn holes in the cloak before the hood had been ripped from the beast’s head.

The beast was holding him in its large paws. Brown as dirt, with pads like a bear or large cat. The pads were hard like rocks and about the size of dessert spoons while the main pad in the middle was more the size of a saucer. There were claws too; dark and long with pointy tips that seemed to have dulled from use. They were slightly retracted like a domesticated cat, but Logan could still feel them prodding his legs and shoulder as he was held. Now he had a proper look at the beast he could see just how massive the creature really was; standing much larger than any man at roughly seven feet.

A growl much closer than the last snapped Logan from his awestruck state as something finally appeared from the trees. A large grey wolf with teeth like knives and a rage-filled expression marring its face.

“Put me down. They may hurt you, but they will surely not hurt me. Please release me from your grasp so I can be on my way”, Logan said, but his voice was too small, too soft, and the creature ignored him anyhow. Another wolf stepped out of the fog, this one a muddy brown colour yet bigger than the grey one. The beast twirled around, ears pricking up a little like furry satellite dishes as another wolf – black with yellow eyes – appeared from the fog behind the two. Logan’s hesitations and reservations died in his throat as more wolves surrounded them on all sides in all shades and colours that they would be if they were real. The world was cooling more, Logan’s fingers numbing a little as he shivered uncontrollably in the cold weather. The beast’s eyes turned to him, raking up and down his form before pulling him closer. The fur on its body radiated warmth and Logan unconsciously clung to thick brown hairs as if they were a lifeline.

“Warm”, the beast murmured, and Logan nodded a little, pushing his glasses up before digging his hand back into the fur, pulling himself closer. So, lost in his own little world of warmth was he that he didn’t notice the wolf leaping at them, nor did he notice the roar that was so inhuman, so blood-chillingly, heart stoppable, mind-numbingly terrible that it couldn’t have been made by any other creature than the one that was holding him. The wolves however heard it. Stumbling back, they raced into the foliage of the trees, hiding themselves in the mist as the beast huffed and continued walking. Logan ran his fingers through the soft fur, tracing patterns of the skin underneath it. The hair fell back into place as Logan lost himself to sleep, succumbing to the warmth of the beast’s body.

He awoke some time later in a room that held a large fireplace, a couple of regal looking chairs, some high up windows, a small intricate table, and two large doors. The table held a small plate of porridge and a mug of what Logan assumed to be hot chocolate. The logical facet stood, dusting off his pants and shirt before moving towards the table. He dipped a finger in the mug and tasted its contents. It was certainly hot chocolate, yet it was nowhere near hot, more lukewarm and certainly lacking in sweetness. The porridge was nearly cold, yet as Logan’s stomach rumbled he resigned himself to eating it. So, he took a seat in one of the ornate, high-backed chairs and ate the food the beast had clearly left for him. He wondered where the creature was but dared not do anything lest his host’s mood turn sour.

Logan waited for a while, slowly sipping the hot chocolate while eyeing the room around him. Subsequently as one does when in a room that one has never been in and left unattended for an elongated period of time, Logan began to wander about the room, looking up at the high windows that would not be able to serve in his escape. The fireplace was also a no-go as he had a difficult time stamping out the fire and the chimney itself was far too small for him to crawl up. The doors were most likely locked, a reasonable assumption to make and upon checking them he found them as such, locked and unyielding. He took a seat back in the chair and sighed, slumping as the fire cast an orange glow about the room, flickering innocently in the great white marble construct.

Upon further inspection, Logan began to notice tinnier details about the room. There was a large rug that was set underneath the chairs and table in a rectangle, connected to another rug that lead to the doors and out of the room. The floor was made of white marble with veins of light grey running like lightning through it, and while the floor was made of a usually cold material the marble was not as cold as one might think, like it was being heated from underneath to the perfect temperature. The rug was interesting enough, made of multiple colors but dulled from age and sunlight. The curtains were red with golden ropes ending in tassels keeping them shut. The ceiling was painted an exquisite light blue with tiny specks of gold and white dotted here and there, so they shone like stars in the night sky. Logan traced imaginary patterns across the ceiling, reaching up to touch the untouchable.

His peace was interrupted by the doors rattling, golden knobs twisting violently in the white painted wood. The doors flung open and the beast stepped inside, cloak still around its shoulders yet the hood remained down. There was snow dusting the antlers, sliding away in great droplets of water while the dusting on its shoulders and the bottom of its cloak remained until it faded into the material, spreading a dark smear across the fabric. Logan watched as the beast walked, nay, stomped to the fire dropping to its knees and looked into the blaze as it crackled and twisted. The logical facet didn’t know whether to talk to the beast or not, for once lost for words. The beast’s ears twitched in his direction, the great head moving with them to look at him. The eyes seemed less bear-like now, holding a soft brown in their depths that made the beast seem kinder.

“Warm”, the beast said, voice echoing in the room as Logan pulled his knees up to his chest and stared. The beast waited for a second before standing and almost ripping the cloak off as it tried to pull the fabric from around its shoulders. “Warm”, it repeated as if trying to ask something of Logan.

Logan adjusted his glasses and nodded slightly, “I am. Thank you.”

The beast let out a small huff of breath, nose twitching a little as it sat back on its hind legs like a dog and turned its gaze back to the fire. Neither spoke for the longest time until the beast looked back at Logan and let its eyes drift up and down his form. “Sleep”, it said, and Logan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure whether it was talking to him or itself. The beast turned to face him fully, looking him up and down before its face twisted into a frown of sorts, lips pulling downwards and supraorbital ridges moving down over its eyes.

“Me?”, Logan asked softly, and the beast nodded, pulling itself closer to Logan and watching like a large dog as Logan shifted nervously in the chair. “I’m not partial to sleeping at the present time”, the logical facet said, regretting it as the beast huffed out a large breath through its nose and gave him a murderous look.

“Sleep”, the beast said in a commanding way, glaring at Logan as the logical facet tried to get more comfortable in the chair. He had only just closed his eyes when he felt something warm, if a bit damp, envelop him. Logan touched the fabric surrounding him and found it to be the beast’s cloak, he smiled a little sleepily as the warmth cocooned him, sending him into a deep sleep full of the black abyss he so often found.

When Logan awoke he was still in the chair, the beast however was nowhere to be found. The doors were once more shut, but there was a book and clothing accompanying the food this time. Logan examined the meal, porridge topped with raspberries and a side of milk in a glass. The book was a book of potions and how to make them, something that didn’t really strike Logan’s interest all that much. He sat back and looked around the room again, eating the porridge as he did so. It was getting harder to recall memories of anything past the forest, bits and pieces of three men who looked just like him surfaced momentarily before they turned to the blackness of the void in his mind. He didn’t know how long he’d been here, but wherever here was it was beginning to feel more and more like home.

The door opened suddenly, and Logan looked towards them, spoon perched in his mouth as he continued to chew the berries and oats. The beast emerged from behind the white doors, turning and carefully shutting them. It turned to him, looking him over before looking at the table and book. Logan looked at the table as well as the beast padded over to it softly, taking the book and wiping one large paw over it as if it were a highly prized possession. The beast turned to him and sat down in front of him as Logan took the spoon out of his mouth and put the bowl in his lap.

“Smart”, the beast said softly, looking up at him with somewhat pleading eyes as he pointed at Logan. Logan looked back at the beast, not entirely understanding what it was talking about until he noticed how the beast was gesturing to him.

The logical facet swallowed softly. “I am, I suppose”, Logan responded, and the beast nodded gently, grabbing the bowl and taking it away from him, standing and depositing it on the table before handing him the book. The beast leaned over him expectantly. Logan turned the book over and over in his hands before looking up at the creature. “What do you want me to do?”, Logan asked inquisitively. The beast’s shoulders seemed to droop as if it had once held hope that Logan could do whatever it was asking him to do.

“Read. Potion. Help”, the beast mumbled after a while and Logan blinked, looking down at the book before opening it and turning over the first couple of pages.

“I can help you, I guess. I just don’t know what you want my help with. I’m not a wizard or a witch or any kind of magical creature. I can’t do much outside of reading this book. Can you tell me what you’d like me to do?”, Logan asked as the creature looked even more disheartened. For some reason seeing the creature so sad made Logan’s heart twitch with remorse and regret. He was forgetting himself in the creature’s presence, that was clear as he spoke his next words. “Oh, no. Don’t be sad. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” Logan smiled lightly, emotions clear as day. The beast seemed shocked, then it recoiled slightly as it showed a little bit of distress in its brown eyes.

“Emotions”, the creature said, and Logan tilted his head in confusion, not quite understanding what the beast was talking about.

“You want a potion for emotions?”, Logan asked, and the beast seemed to snap out of its trance, shaking its great head with a breath akin to a sigh escaping the snout and teeth.

“No. Beast. Man”, the beast murmured out, sinking to the floor with a sad look in its eyes.

“You’re not a beast, you’re a man? This is a spell?”, Logan asked, and the creature looked up at him with such hope in its eyes it made Logan feel hopeful himself. It nodded and tried to smile, not quite achieving it but making Logan giggle a little at the funny expression on its face. “You want me to look for a potion to break the spell”, Logan said, and the creature nodded again. “Well, I’ll do my best. Don’t worry, we’ll get you back to being a human again”, the logical facet said and the creature raised itself to its feet and did a little dance on the spot, rather like a toddler receiving a present where they clap their hands together and jump from one foot to the other with glee. Logan laughed at the display before he settled down to read the book, flipping through page after page as he tried to find a cure.

Logan wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been here, in this room. The days had blurred together so much that all he could remember outside of the room was the forest, and even that was just a blurry set of images that started with white, grey and black and ended with the room. He had yet to forget his name and age, but much of the other information was too blurred to even bother trying to make out. For all he knew his purpose was to read the books the beast brought in, eat the food the beast brought him, and try to find the beast a cure to his beastly-ness. He found it after…a day? A week? A month? He wasn’t sure. Most of the time he opted for just saying ‘a while’ instead of trying to sort out the blurry memories and find sense in them.

The beast plodded in with another few books, many of which were in languages Logan had to learn himself while he was here. With one look at Logan, the beast knew he’d found something. It sat down gently in front of the man and looked up at him with a tilt of its head.

“I think I’ve found the cure”, Logan said with a smile that made the beast smile back. It was a simple enough potion, mixed with natural ingredients most of which could be found in the forest. The potion had to be made over a few days with enough time for all the ingredients to be found, collected, carefully dealt with and finally added to the potion. The base was water mixed in a silver bowl or cauldron. The beast smiled at Logan, having gotten the hang of the idea as it stood and held out a paw to Logan. Logan smiled back and took the paw with ease. He wobbled a bit, so used to sitting in the chair that his legs were turning weak from the near constant lack of use.

“Let help”, the beast said, and Logan chuckled lightly as he was pulled up into the beast’s embrace, carried like a damsel from many a painting in the books out of the room and into what lay beyond the doors.

Logan felt his breath leave him at the sight. In a few of the books he’d read there were pictures of palaces, but nothing so grand as this. White columns cascaded from the roof to the ground, white banisters played host to an array of carved, gold painted scenes; battles, heroes and heroines, people atop horseback, and many more gorgeous carved scenes that shone in the candlelight. The stairs themselves wound from the first floor up to the second, splitting off in two directions while a third continued traveling up to the third level where they split off once again before continuing to travel up to the fourth and final floor he could see.

The ceiling was arched, carrying up to another and another as it followed the stairs to the fourth floor. Its surface was littered with angelic paintings; bright blue skies and dark nights, dotted with silver stars in the most accurate portrayal Logan had ever seen. The hallways and columns that framed the walkways to the stairs were as intricate as the rest of the palace. The great front doors were painted in a dark green, gold highlighting certain aspects and crevices in the tall wooden objects. As for lighting, the entire palace seemed to be lit by candlelight, not a window was open, nor a curtain undone. Yet Logan could see the curtains; rolls of emerald green, crushed velvet that fell to the floor in waterfalls, the same golden ropes, and tassels that held his curtains back adorning them.

“Basket”, the beast said, pointing with one giant claw to the front door where a tiny, straw basket with a stiff handle sat awaiting the two. The beast walked down the stairs, setting Logan down near the door and handing him a navy-blue cloak. “Cold”, the beast said as it helped him into it, letting Logan bat his paws away as the logical facet tied the navy ties around his neck and pulled the hood up. He grabbed the basket, opened the book and turned to the beast. The beast looked down at him before nodding in a satisfied manner and pushing the great doors open with his paws. Light streamed into the room and for a moment Logan was awestruck with how beautiful the world was.

Snow covered perfectly trimmed hedges, rose buds covered in frost with their green leaves drenched in a thin, white powder. The gardens were a sight to behold with stone stairs that descended to them from the front door, sweeping out close to the bottom with the ends of the banisters covered in snow-covered stone flowers and animals. The beast walked forward, holding out a hand for Logan to take as it urged Logan forward. Logan took another look around at the palace before exiting through the doors, snow dusting the bottom of his shoes and cloak. He shivered a little as the wet penetrated the leather and drenched his feet in cold. He stuck through it if only to see the snow-dusted gardens. There were statues, small alcoves made of circles of stone, built high with columns and fitted with tiny benches. There was a single fountain that started a few feet from the bottom of the stairs and followed the natural slope of the hill downwards to a set of hedges, tiny cherubim and figures with pitchers stood high on pedestals as frozen water stood still on its way to the fountain. The water of the fountain was completely frozen, clear as glass and solid as a rock with a slight dusting of snow at the edges.

“Come. Forest”, the beast said, and Logan followed the creature past the fountain to the gates at the edge of the garden. The gates connected to two large stone pillars that connected to a greening fence that led the full length of the palace. Logan turned to take it all in and was stunned by how inexplicably large the structure was. It was like nothing he’d ever seen and yet it was so familiar. Logan turned back and admired the gates themselves. They were green, snow-covered and creaky, but sturdy enough to hold back any unwanted passer-by’s.

“So, we need this moss”, Logan said, holding the book out for the beast to see. The beast nodded, and Logan closed the book as the gates swung open and the two ventured into the forest. They scoured the area for a full day, finding the moss before moving onto finding a flower and some honey they needed. They trekked back to the palace, lit up by the many candles inside so much it seemed to glow against the dark of the night sky. The gates opened, and the beast waited until Logan walked through before walking through itself.

This trend continued for a few days, where the two would venture out for ingredients, find them and then fall asleep together in the room Logan had come to know as his own. They were on the last section of ingredients when something truly terrible happened.

Logan hummed as he gathered some berries from the white-dusted bush, taking a few more than necessary as the beast wandered off to gather some flowers from a nearby patch. It was a clear day, the sun shining down on them through a cloudless sky. There was no fog, no mist, no wolves around and yet there was a sense of unease that Logan could not seem to shake. A feeling that he should run and not look back. He didn’t know what from or where to, but his instincts told him to run. He refused, finishing up his berry picking and standing with a slight crack of his back. Then he heard it. A growl that sent shivers through his body and turned his blood to ice. He turned slowly to face a wolf, larger than any he’d seen previous on his travels with the beast. He couldn’t move, couldn’t run, couldn’t even make a sound as he found himself pinned under the gaze of the wolf. The wolf bristled, and Logan looked on as it prepared to leap at him. He let out a small whimper as the wolf jumped.

A blur of brown barrelled into it as a roar left the beast and Logan trembled so much he was forced to drop to the ground. The beast bit at the wolf, growling while the wolf bit back. His beast leapt off it, prowling around on all fours like a wild animal, shaking its great head and tossing its antlers to and fro. The injured wolf let out a howl of anguish and Logan covered his ears as the sound of more wolves neared them. A pack of smaller wolves burst from the forest, charging at the beast from all sides. They scratched, bit, gnawed and cut at it until it collapsed to the ground and Logan knew it was done fighting. Logan looked around and picked up the biggest tree branch he could, standing on trembling legs as he faced the wolves back and struck one over the head. The wolf let out a howl of pain, turning on him. Logan raised the branch, swinging it as the wolves descended upon him, one nicking him with its claws while another got a lucky bite in on his right arm. Logan bit back a yelp of pain but it was clear he was fighting a losing battle. There was a howl of outrage before all the wolves were swept away with one bat of the beast’s paw, its eyes wild and darker than Logan had ever seen them. Today marked the first time Logan had ever been truly scared of the beast.

The wolves vanished into the forest and the beast rounded on Logan, eyes fading to brown once more but the damage was done. Logan cast his eyes to the ground, not daring to look at the creature that had kept him company for so long. His beast seemed to get the message and didn’t bother to touch him in any way. Logan stood on his own, followed by the beast on all fours as he made his way back to the castle. They didn’t speak as Logan walked back to his room to work on the potion. They did speak however when Logan stumbled from blood loss and the beast was there to catch him. Logan stiffened in the beast’s embrace, eyes fluttering from closed to open and back to closed again as pain began to set into his frozen body.

“Hurt”, the beast said, and Logan nodded softly. The beast deposited him gently into another chair before rushing off on all fours to get something, medical supplies Logan supposed as his vision swam and his eyes drooped closed. He awoke to the beast dabbing a towel covered in cold water on the bite mark, looking down in deep concentration. Logan sighed softly and sat up properly taking the towel and getting to work on taking care of his wounds.

“I’ll take care of it. You need to take care of your own wounds too”, Logan murmured solemnly as he finished cleaning the bite and turned to the scratch on his left side. He dabbed the towel in the bowl of water close to him, the beast walking off to find another towel to clean itself up with. It returned not long after with a bowl of water and a towel of its own, trying and failing to clean its own wounds. Logan stopped cleaning his to look at the failing creature, now licking its wounds having given up on cleaning them with the towel and water. He gazed upon it, then blinked and stood up with a sigh, “let me.”

His beast reluctantly handed over the towel, biting into its lip to stop the tiny howls of pain as Logan cleaned its wounds, bandaged them with slivers of his tattered navy cloak and then set about finishing the potion. The beast watched on until it fell asleep on the floor, groaning softly in its sleep as its brow knotted and a tiny growl left its lips. Logan shuddered, still feeling frightened of the beast, but refusing to stop finishing the potion. He was so close he could taste it, then his purpose would be fulfilled…right?

Logan stepped back from the silver cauldron, looking down as the pale blue mixture swirled around tiny puffs of blue-grey smoke wafting out of it from time to time. The beast was awake, sitting in one of the chairs with a concerned frown on its lips. They had grown close over the course of Logan’s stay and Logan didn’t know whether they’d continue their friendship once the beast was human again. Would the creature still want to keep him around, perhaps as a trophy or a reminder of another time where things were different? The logical facet stood and took a wooden bowl from the ground. He murmured some words and the potion seemed to darken, pale blue giving way to a cobalt. Logan dipped the bowl in and pulled it out again looking down at his reflection in the potion before turning to the beast. His beast looked at him expectantly and Logan walked over to it, holding the bowl out for it to take. They shared one last glance before the beast downed the potion and swallowed. The bowl dropped as the beast cried out in pain, its body turning into blinding white light and for a second Logan felt the fear that he’d killed the beast. His beast’s body shifted in the white light, shrinking and becoming more human-like before it dropped back to the chair with a small groan of pain.

Logan blinked and rubbed his eyes, opening them to look at a man, who now studied his hands with a gigantic smile on his face. He was handsome; swooping, short brown-purple hair that looked exceedingly soft, kind brown eyes that were full of life, a clear complexion with perfectly formed lips and flushed healthy cheeks. The man looked up at him and stood, pulling Logan into his arms and hugging him with a large smile. He pulled back and the world around Logan seemed to suddenly brighten as if the world was changing with the beast.

“Thank you, Logan. Thank you so much”, the man said, and Logan nodded slightly before walking away and taking a seat at one of the chairs.

“You can talk now. Good. I’d like to know who you are now”, Logan said with a slight smile. The man faltered slightly, brows furrowing in confusion as he sat down.

“I-It’s me, Roman. You know the prince. We…we’re friends”, his beast – Roman – said with a confused stare.

“I don’t know a Roman or a prince”, Logan said, closing his eyes before opening them, “I do know a beast and if you are it…him, then I suppose we are friends.”

“No…no, no before all this. You don’t…you don’t remember?”, Roman asked and Logan shook his head with a frown, tilting it slightly to look at the man before him.

“No. I don’t remember my beast, you, being human”, Logan said with certainty. Roman seemed to sink into his chair with a sad expression before it morphed into one of worry and finally terror.

“What do you remember?”, Roman asked, leaning forward with his hands grasping the arms of his chair.

“The first thing I remember…this room, I suppose. Followed by the books, you as a beast, the forest, this room…the wolves”, Logan trailed off, sinking a little in his own chair and letting his gaze fall to his hands.

“Oh no…oh this is bad. How long…how long have you been here?”, Roman asked, the question sounded choked, his voice catching in his throat so he was forced to swallow.

“I don’t remember. I didn’t keep count of the days, but it would be over a week that is for sure”, Logan said and Roman stood, beginning to pace the room as his hands burrowed into his hair, pulling it out of its smooth side swoop.

“No, no, no, no, no. Ugh, Patton is going to kill me. Thomas is going to kill me. Virgil will most assuredly kill me and you…oh you’ll kill me when you get your memories back”, Roman said, worrying at that collar of his jacket for a moment before he ran a hand over his face, breathed a heavy sigh and proceeded to run his hands over each other as if attempting to warm them up. Logan watched him pace, ultimately wishing he was still a beast as this ‘Roman’ was highly unentertaining and his beast had been quite a joy to be around. Roman stopped pacing for a second before turning to him. Logan put an elbow up on the arm of the chair and set his cheek on the fist that formed at the end of it. “We need to get you back to your room now”, Roman said, speaking with such concentrated commandment that it would have been hard to say no to him. Logan, however, was not one to do what others wanted him to do.

“What if I do not feel like going ‘back to my room’?”, Logan asked, frowning at the prince who stared at him with bewilderment as if not going back to his room was unthinkable.

“Well…you have to or…or something really bad will happen. Look, I need to get you back to your room. Mine’s corrupted you far too much already and Thomas won’t survive without you being well you”, Roman tried to explain his words becoming faster as he tried to knock some sense into Logan. He worried his hands, looking from Logan to around the room then coming back to Logan. The logical facet sighed and stood.

“If I go to my ‘room’ will you stop worrying and pushing me about so much?”, Logan asked, folding his arms across his chest with a frown. Roman blinked twice and then nodded as if there was nothing more important than getting Logan back to his room. Logan sighed, already regretting his next words, “lead the way then.”

Roman grabbed Logan’s wrist harshly and began to pull him out of his room, down the stairs and finally out of the palace. Logan grumbled lightly before pulling his hand back, rubbing it a little and motioning for Roman to lead the way. Roman didn’t need to be told twice as he practically sprinted for the gate, pushing it open and scrambling to get Logan through. Logan was stuck admiring the world around him though, the snow having melted as the spell did. There were leaves on the trees, flowers in full bloom and butterflies floating through the air. One stopped fluttering around Logan and the logical facet held out a finger, smiling slightly as it landed softly on his finger.

“Come on, Specs. We need to go now”, Roman called out and the butterfly flew away causing a sour frown to mar Logan’s face as he looked at Roman. Roman didn’t appear to feel any remorse for his actions as Logan neared the gate and Roman let fly a whistle. The logical facet pulled back a little from the gate as a brown stallion galloped out of the forest and towards the prince. Roman swung himself up before holding out a hand for Logan. Logan took it gingerly and Roman pulled him up, kicking the horse into a canter as Logan struggled to find grip, settling on wrapping his arms around Roman’s waist as he closed his eyes. Images of the forest covered in snow flashed behind Logan’s closed eyelids and he wished he were there again.

The horse slowed, and Logan opened his eyes watching with a slight bit of amusement as Roman fell to the ground before turning to him and reaching out a hand for the logical side. Logan sighed and took it, rolling his eyes a little as Roman tugged him towards a small door standing alone in the forest. It was a white door with a brass handle and a white doorframe, but it was most peculiar to see just a door in the forest without any context. Roman surged forward before opening the door to reveal a room.

“Come on, nerd. Out, out, out”, the prince chanted, and Logan frowned at the words, sighing and stepping past doorframe and door, and into the room. There were two other people in the room who were both wearing matching expressions of worry and concern. Roman shut the door behind him and Logan looked at their faces as they stood with shocked expressions on their faces. They both had the same face and the same face as Roman. Logan frowned at this, pushing his glasses up before crossing his arms over his chest.

The one in a blue shirt rocketed forward, wrapping his arms around Logan and letting out small sobs into his chest. Logan frowned as the other one just stood back with a small relieved smile on his face. The logical facet looked down again at the crying man, his heart tweaked a little before his expression fell into one of pity and sympathy.

“There, there”, he murmured softly, running a hand over the man’s back with a tiny smile. It was like his touch had burned the man, that was how quickly the man jumped back wearing a shocked expression. The one in the black and purple also looked shocked as he walked a little closer and grabbed the other man’s hand. Roman didn’t speak, but Logan frowned at this. “What’s wrong? I was just trying to comfort you.”

The man in blue and the man in the purple and black just let their eyes widen more. It was then that the man in blue spoke, “you never want or know how to comfort anyone. What…Roman?”

“Relax Patton. It’s not as bad as you think”, Roman said quickly and Logan watched as the man in blue – Patton – seemed to change from shocked to angry in a split second.

“Not as bad as I think. Not as bad as I think? Then, pray tell Roman, how bad is it?”, Patton asked, exploding as the one in purple and black glared at the prince.

“I can fix this. Trust me”, Roman said and Logan turned to him with a confused look.

“Oh no. You are not fixing this. You and Logan have been gone for a month Roman. A month. We’ve had to do everything by ourselves and when you two finally get back Logan’s different and you’re saying there’s something bad”, Patton yelled out making Logan flinch. The man’s screams reminded him of his own internal ones when he was set upon by the wolves.

“Patton’s right. Whatever happened in your room that needs to be fixed can be left to us. We just need you to tell us what happened and what on earth is wrong with Logan”, the one in purple and black said with a growl.

“There’s nothing wrong with me and how do you know my name?”, Logan asked, giving the man in purple and black a wary look.

“Roman”, the one in purple and black growled out and the prince seemed to shrink.

“Look, can we just get him to his room and then I’ll explain everything”, Roman said, reaching out to take Logan’s wrist. Logan pulled away with a wary look.

“You’re not my beast”, Logan said with an acidic tone, glaring at Roman who bit his lip with a hurt look in his eyes.

“I am. You gave me the potion, you saw the transformation. Please, Logan, you helped me up to then, help me now”, Roman pleaded and Logan closed his eyes, relaxing and sighing softly before letting Roman grab his wrist and pull him to a small hallway that led to a door. Logan blinked for a moment and then a door appeared. It was navy blue with his name imprinted on a plaque screwed to it. Logan frowned as Roman opened the door and pulled him inside.

The room was much like the one he’d just been in, but it was more organized and sensible. Roman pulled him towards the stairs and up them towards another door. The prince opened this one too and pulled Logan in after him. He maneuvered Logan to the bed in the center of the room and pushed him to sit on it.

“Please, get some rest and stay here for as long as you need to get back to normal”, Roman said with a sigh as he ventured out of the room and closed the door behind him. Logan frowned and looked around the room. It was plainer than the one his beast had given him and more crowded at that too. There were bookshelves and piles of books littered all over the room. Logan’s frown deepened before he stood and walked out of the room, down the stairs and to the door he had originally come in. He could hear someone shouting behind it and he gently pushed it open to see what the commotion was about.

The man in blue – Patton – was yelling at Roman who was miserably looking down at the floor while sitting on the couch. The man in purple and black was glaring at the prince from the other side of the couch. Logan pushed the door open and closed it gently behind him before taking a seat next to the man in purple and black. The man beside him started, pulling away from next to him as Logan rested his cheeks in his hands and looked at Patton yelling at Roman. The yelling had stopped and the two were now looking at him.

“Continue”, Logan said waiting for the two to get back to what they had been doing.

“Uh…I was…I was just saying how dangerous your quests can be kiddo and…and…”, Patton trailed off, steam lost on him as soon as he acknowledged Logan was in the room. Logan frowned at the display but shrugged and pulled his knees up to his chest like he would have done if he were with the beast.

“Well, now Logan’s here maybe you should start from the beginning and tell us the whole story of how you and he ended up spending a month in your room and him leaving with apparently no memories of anything but ‘the beast’. I mean, seriously dude, you could have thought up a much better name than that. And honestly, I’m not totally sold on the idea of you turning into a beast, maybe Logan’s just confusing you for being you”, the man in purple and black sniggered lightly and Logan leaned over to give him a whack on the arm.

“How dare you. My beast was kind and considerate. He may not have had a good name, but he was still the best friend I have ever had”, Logan said with a growl and a glare. The man in purple and black stared at him as if he had never been hit on the arm before. Patton and Roman also stared at him, but Logan retreated back into the shell he had made for himself, wrapping his arms around the tops of his knees and looking down at them. He wiped away some stray tears that had formed at the edges of his eyes, ready to fall at any second.

“Look…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that…that ‘your’ beast wasn’t good to you”, the man in purple and black said and bit his lip. He sighed and looked down at the ground before looking back up at Logan, “you probably don’t remember my name so…my name’s Virgil.”

Logan nodded softly but didn’t look up, choosing instead to burrow his forehead into his knees. “Nice to meet you, Virgil”, Logan said, though his voice was muffled by the fabric of his pants.

“Yeah…nice to meet you too”, Virgil said as he moved closer to Logan and put a hand on his back. Logan flinched at the contact. He’d never had anyone, but the beast and wolves touch him and most of the time anyone besides the beast was rough and cruel when touching him. But Virgil’s hand was nice, so he let it slide, sighing into his knees and letting his head drift back up so only his eyes and nose were visible.

“Okay, now that’s all over. I guess it started a day or so before our month-long departure. I was…battling the Dragon Witch – as usual – and I defeated it – as usual – but on my way back I got into a fight with a warlock who cast a spell on me to turn me into a beast. I only really remember up to where Logan came in and even then, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I remember hunting for food and then I heard Logan calling my name. I walked towards him and then I thought, ‘If anyone could fix this that isn’t me, it’d be him.’

“I don’t remember much after that, vague blurry memories of me being a beast and Logan reading in my castle. There’s one that really sticks out though. I…I’m in a forest and I’m following Logan. We were looking for potion ingredients to turn me back to normal and I wandered off. I heard a growl and then I just…I saw Logan looking at this big wolf and it leapt at him and I…I just…I went wild. I felt like ripping the wolf apart. It was…it was scary, not just knowing I could do it so easily, but knowing how wild I would be and if I couldn’t control it…how I could…how easily I could turn on you, Logan”, Roman finished off and Logan turned his gaze to the ground. He remembered that day. He had the scars to prove it had happened.

“So, if you’re better, why isn’t Logan?”, Virgil asked and Roman looked from Virgil to Logan.

“He’s corrupted. He was almost fully corrupted by my room and it’s going to take a while before he’s back to normal. That’s what my room does. It sweeps me into a fairy tale and I forget about the world sometimes, too caught up in my own little paradise to notice anything else. And now…now it’s corrupted Logan”, Roman said, his voice soft.

“I’m not corrupted. I just…I just don’t remember anything past being with my beast”, Logan said softly, tears welling in his eyes again as he fought back sobs.

“Oh, honey. So, not only has he forgotten us and Thomas and everything outside of your room, he’s also showing his emotions freely”, Patton said as Logan wiped the tears away, feeling a little stupid as he wiped the salty liquid onto his pant leg.

“Is that a bad thing?”, Virgil asked, and Patton sighed softly, taking a seat next to Logan and putting a gentle hand on his arm.

“It could cause major issues, but only if the emotions are too big for him to contain. They could spread to Thomas and impact his logical thought process, causing bias”, Patton surmised as he looked down at Logan and squeezed his arm softly.

“We need to get him back to his room”, Roman murmured softly as he stood and walked over to Logan, kneeling in front of the logical facet.

“Agreed. Roman, do you want to carry him while I get some soup and toast ready?”, Patton asked, rage gone from him as he took in the bespectacled trait.

“Okay, Logan…would you mind moving a little, so I can get my arms underneath you enough to carry you?”, Roman asked softly and Logan nodded a little, still out of it as he adjusted his position so Roman could pick him up. Roman pulled him in close and Logan was reminded of his beast, the soft fur under his hands, the large paws that were always there for him. He let the tears flow freely as the three looked down at him, reality finally breaking through into his tiny world.

There was never truly a beast, just a man who made a mistake and pulled him along for the ride.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logince #beast transformation

24 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Epilogue: Into the Sunset

A/N: This will be the final part of Six Shooter, an epilogue that will hopefully satisfy most of you. If you want a word count as to how long this is, it’s roughly 90, 000 words long - about the same as a novel so... good job getting through this. (More details in the end note.)

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Epilogue

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (finally implemented)

Word Count: 7700+

Virgil let out a low whistle, stilling Di atop the hill to look out at the cold, black town before him. Roman nodded a little before kicking Cameron off down the hill, racing as fast as he could. He let out a chuckle as Virgil – noticing his absence – attempted to keep up, racing Di down after him.

Hooves clashed against stones and blackened sand, ashes rising under the steel of their shoes while burnt wood fell apart, trampled under the weight of two fully grown horses. They were neck and neck, passing the shells of shops and homes, the twisted black trees, and piles of soot-covered wood. Sand beat up behind them, fanning out and dropping as the wind pushed the small stones to and fro in a heavy breeze that lifted some of the ash from the surrounding landscape, tossing the white through the air with ease as if circled around like miniature tornados. Roman laughed loudly, letting out a hoot of happiness as their horses leapt from the entrance of Crow Ridge, galloping out of the cinder-filled town. Virgil smirked, turning in the saddle slightly and looking back at the shell of a town, black wood erupting like a gigantic skeleton from the sand as if some larger beast had eaten and left the carcass behind for vultures to peck at.

“Come on, old man”, Roman called as Cameron edged out ahead of Di. The hunter let out a loud laugh as the former outlaw pulled Di back a little in shock, before Virgil grit his teeth and growled lowly forcing Di to move faster towards the hunter.

“Old man? I’m only a few months older than you”, Virgil yelled as he sped past the hunter with relative ease, pushing ahead of him and racing off towards Akers town. Roman grunted softly and tried to boot Cameron into moving faster as sand clouded up behind the two, their trails leaving small orange dust clouds in their wake.

The sun peered down upon them, moving quickly across the sky to the edges of the horizon while birds flew towards shelter for the night in the carcass of the burnt-out town behind them. The two hunters shouted playful insults at one another, their gear glinting in the sun with a ferocious white light.

Akers town watched them as they neared, horses and hunters closing in on its position. The wooden sign hung a little lopsided, an accident – Roman would assure you – found after a pistol had been shot underneath it. The town was similar to how it had been a few years previous, the only real work being in the graveyard and around the town as a whole. A fence now surrounded the town, large wood cylinders with heavy planks connecting them. In the graveyard there was but one new grave, mounted atop was a tiny – yet elaborate – gravestone with the youngest of the Lilac brother’s names carved into it.

Virgil and Roman slowed to a halt outside the bar, each nodded in sync before Virgil bolted up the hill atop Di while Roman slid off Cameron and entered the bar. Patton let out a squeal as Roman pulled off his gloves, a thin golden band decorating his ring finger. The bartender raced around the other side of his bar and leaped at Roman, gripping him tightly while the other chuckled and pressed a small kiss to his temple.

“How was it?”, Patton asked as he walked back behind the bar. Roman took a seat and put his head in his hands watching the light of the sun dance off Patton’s spectacles.

“Not bad. We caught the guy and handed him over. Not a single injury to either of us”, Roman said with a smile as Patton handed him a small glass full of a dark orange liquor.

“Well, I guess that’s cause for celebration”, Patton said with a smile of his own, pulling out a glass and filling it with a small amount of the same liquor. Their glasses tapped together lightly before they downed the drink, twin grins adorning their faces while the sun began to set outside. The sun glinted off their matching rings, gold shining in the orange light.

Virgil dismounted Di slowly, pulling her gently by her black reins to the stable on the side of the Lilac house. A few other horses stamped on the hay and dirt floors softly at Di’s return, welcoming her back with soft whinnies and the occasional nuzzle. Virgil chuckled at the friendly nature of the other horses as he pulled Di to her stall and proceeded to fill her feeding trough with food. The hunter smiled at the sight of his horse eating, dropping the food bucket and exiting the stable with light footsteps. Virge glanced up at the large house before him, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun while the other fished around in his coat pocket, gloved fingers gliding over a small trophy from his most recent adventure. Something the owner of the Lilac property had asked him to procure whilst out on his rounds.

The hunter breathed in, the scent of hot sand and horse feed filling his nostrils before he exhaled, nodded once and walked around the house to the entrance. He knocked twice on the door, sharp knocks that made himself known whilst not being heavy enough to leave any sort of authoritative impression. Virgil could hear the sound of footsteps, light against the wood floors with the grace of a practiced hunter, moving steadily closer to the door. The white wood creaked as the door handle was turned gently, the door pulled inwards while Virgil dropped into a bow, hand sweeping his hat off his head and holding it out to the side while his other gently rested against his torso.

“My lady”, Virgil said with a small smile, eyes glinting with humour as he chanced a glance upwards. The door opened a little further and Logan let out a long sigh of exasperation.

“How many times have I asked you not to refer to me as such?”, the Lilac man asked, frowning gently at Virgil who stood up straight and looked Logan dead in the eyes with a hint of mischievousness swirling in his brown eyes.

“A great number, I assure you”, Virgil chuckled, his grin teetering on Cheshire like in its laughing, quick nature. Logan simply rolled his eyes at the sight, turning and walking towards the living room with heavier footsteps than he had previously used. The ex-hunter turned and raised an eyebrow at Virgil who seemed to shift from one foot to the other while holding his hat in both hands, clasping the leather rim tightly as his eyes darted to and fro.

Logan smiled and shook his head softly, “are you coming in or are you going to be my new door mat, Virge?”

“Wha… Oh, I uh- right, coming”, Virgil replied, stepping over the threshold and slipping his hat onto the coatrack. Logan had disappeared into the living room, so Virgil discarded his boots and made a quick journey of the rest of the hallway. He smiled a little as he took a seat in the red chair, eyes wandering to Logan who now sat in the green chair almost opposite him. The couch had of course been replaced, a newer looking brown covered two-seater now placed where the white had once stood.

“How was the trip?”, Logan asked, eyes shining with mirth as he gestured to a pitcher of water and two glasses sitting atop the small table that once held flowers and a picture created by his mother. The picture now hung above the doorway to David Lilac’s bedroom, a small homage to both father and mother. The rooms themselves had been left untouched, the ache still present after two years.

“Good as any of my others. Brought you back your gift”, Virgil said with a smile, reaching into his pocket and procuring a small, somewhat squashed violet, pale blue in color. Logan smiled and took it from his hand, running his fingers over the soft petals. “As promised, the first flower outside of Akers town I came across on my ride. Roman made fun of me for ages, but… it was worth it.”

“Thank you, Virgil. Viola Sororia, commonly known as the blue violet. Will you never cease to amaze me”, Logan murmured, whispering close to the end as he studied the flower. He placed it down on his lap, turning slightly and taking one of the glasses before filling it with water and handing it off to Virgil who thanked him with quiet murmurs, downing the glass almost immediately. Logan smiled a little, a soft chuckle emanating from his chest as he stood and walked to the large chest of drawers that sat close to the doorway to the kitchen. He opened one and pulled out a small blue book. Flipping a few pages, he found what he was looking for and placed the flower inside, gently closing and pressing the two covers together.

“How many is that now?”, Virgil asked, moving out of his chair and coming to stand behind Logan, eyes peering over his shoulder at the closed book.

“Almost seventy”, Logan whispered as a hand gently ran from his upper back to his shoulder. It was a comforting gesture, a small amount of pressure applied in the form of Virgil gripping his shoulder gently.

“I made a promise, didn’t I. How many more?”, Virgil asked, rubbing the pad of his thumb into the nubs of Logan’s spine.

“One more. One more and that’ll make it seventy”, Logan murmured, setting the book back in the drawer and stacking a few heavy books on top of it, subsequently causing the pages to press together even more.

“Then I guess I better get onto it, huh”, Virgil mused softly, pulling away and starting the short walk to the front door. Logan stood still for a second before racing to the door and gripping Virgil’s right arm tightly.

“Another flower”, Logan rushed out as Virgil turned his head to look at him, “please.”

“Anything for you”, Virgil said with a smile as he bowed a little.

“Wait, you haven’t got any supplies”, Logan said, and Virgil stopped in the doorway, one hand gripping the white wood while his body turned a little. Virgil smiled a little and nodded as Logan raced back to the kitchen and began to gather food and water for the hunter. He waited in the doorway, staring out at the road before his eyes came to rest on the house opposite and his lazy smile turned to a sour frown. Thomas. Two years ago, they’d put him away behind bars, but now he’d be free. He didn’t have the heart to tell Logan that soon, very soon Thomas Saderson would once again be roaming the land in search of outlaws and revenge. “You’re staring at his house again. He’s not coming back, Virge”, a voice murmured softly as a hand wound its way into his own, fingers lacing together and holding tight as if to promise something Virgil knew he would never be able to keep. Virgil looked behind him and gave Logan a weak, soft smile trying not to let his worries and insecurities show.

“I know, Lo. I know”, Virgil said, eyes landing on the small bag of food and water. Logan glanced at it and handed it off, watching from the doorway as Virgil gave him a two-fingered salute and shoved his hand into his pocket, the other gripping the top of the supply bag. He wouldn’t be able to take Di so quickly, so Virgil supposed he’d have to use one of Logan’s horses. The hunter had a few to pick from; glossy brown mares, sleek grey stallions, bay and roan horses with strong legs and large muscles. He had many to pick from, but for now he’d settle on a sweet little thing named Shielder. Shielder was a white stallion with a carefree attitude, a good fifteen hands high though smaller than Di stood at sixteen hands. Originally Shielder belonged to Roman, who had since left him there while he used Cameron more often.

Virgil took his saddle from Di’s stall and grabbed a set of spare reins from atop a barrel of feed. He fitted Shielder up and tightened what he had to, adding his food and water to the load before giving the horse a pat and pulling him out of the stall to be ridden. The hunter pulled himself up, gently forcing Shielder into a slow walk while Virgil and the stallion got used to one another. After a minute or so the hunter determined them to be ready and manoeuvred Shielder out of the stables and onto the road. Peering over his shoulder the hunter could see a figure leaning against the doorframe and waving a little at his moving form. Virgil swept Shielder around and beamed at Logan who hand to hold a hand to him mouth to keep from laughing as Shielder, unused to such quick movements, reared up with Virgil seeming to panic slightly at the action. When Shielder was still and quiet once more Virgil looked over at Logan and went to tap his hat as a gesture of farewell. He then realised he had not grabbed the item and looked all over in search for it before looking at Logan who approached slowly, Virgil’s hat clasped in his hands. Virgil scratched the back of his neck and bent a little allowing Logan to place the hat on his head before he sat upright in the saddle and turned Shielder towards the town.

“Come back soon”, Logan called at the hunter kicked Shielder into a light trot, dust and sand clouding behind them as Logan watched them leave. He sighed and pulled his thoughts back into the present, glancing at Saderson’s house before walking back to his own and closing the door. Sometimes he wished Virgil would stay, now he understood how his father and Anthony must have felt… must have.

Tears welled up as he thought over the phrase. Must have. Not felt, must have felt. Past tense as both were no longer here. Dead, deceased, gone, no longer of this world, heaven bound, and how many ever-other ways there were to say a person – or persons in this case – were no longer alive. Logan dropped to the floor, back pressed against his door as he muffled his sobs with his hands. He wondered if it would always hurt like I did now, maybe it would dull over time to an ache instead of a sharp, stinging pain that left him breathless and tearful. Maybe one day he’d feel nothing, but he wondered if that was the best course of action. He’d rather know he could feel something, than nothing.

Virgil slowed Shielder to a walk, dismounting as the pair neared the center of the town. The posters of wanted criminals were few and far between, many having been captured by Roman and Virgil in the past few years. Virgil looked over the left-over posters, trying to find a nice, end of the line job that would hopefully bring in a nice sum to set himself up for a few weeks while he worked out what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Presumably, he’d work on Logan’s property, hauling in wheat and feeding the horses. Doing menial tasks that Logan would usually do.

Somewhere along this line of thinking his mind conjured an image, an image of himself and Logan working almost side by side on the Lilac property. His eyes gazing across the shafts of wheat at Logan as he gathered apples for jam and market produce. The afternoon sun glinting off his glasses as he picked a few more apples and set down the bucket he’d been using to collect them. He turned to Virgil, wiping his forehead before waving at the hunter. His eyes shining like the sun behind his gleaming glasses, kind as ever with their special twinge of learnedness that he could’ve passed onto the next generation. Virgil leaned on a post, part of the fence around the Lilac property, eyes gazing at the other man as he began to approach Virgil.

Shielder let out a neigh below Virgil subsequently knocking the hunter out of his fantasy. Virgil growled softly at the horse, taking another glance at the posters before deciding that none stood out in particular.

“Afternoon Virgil, how’d the last go?”, a voice asked, and Virgil looked down to see the town sheriff walking out to post another poster.

“Afternoon Val, not bad. Caught the outlaw and all that. What’s new?”, Virgil asked, leaning on the saddle and crossing his arms as Valarie approached.

“New guy on the market right now. People call him The Snake. Identified by this small snake that looks like it’s going to eat his left eye”, Valarie said, opening the poster and showing it to the hunter. Virgil looked it over; the price was certainly high, but something about the guy seemed… familiar, dangerous maybe. The hunter ran a hand over his chin and let out a sound of interest, holding out a hand for the poster which the sheriff gave him quickly.

“Thanks for the challenge Val. I’ll let ya know how it goes”, Virgil said with a tilt of his hat and a smirk before he kicked Shielder into high gear and sped off into the desert. Valarie sighed and returned to her office, putting away her hammer and nails for another day.

Virgil smiled as the wind whipped his face, sand scratching his cheeks as he pushed Shielder into the desert without worry. He knew he should have stopped in town to properly resupply, though Logan’s gift was good it would never be able to compare to things Virgil could buy at general stores and the like. Fruits like apples were only good for a few days after picking, especially if they were ripe like the ones Logan usually gave him. The grains and hay for himself and Shielder would last longer, but he could only keep them for so long. Water filled canteens like the ones Logan gave him would last the longest.

Birds cawed overhead, a small flock passing from his east to his west. From below he couldn’t tell what sort they were, the sun causing their colors to be lost on him and their shapes distorted by height and bright light. Their calls were no help, bird calls were not something Virgil knew too much about regardless of how much time he spent in the wilderness. His hearing picked up on the sounds of the bird calls, wings fluttering and a tree not far of creaking under the weight of so many birds. Virgil’s mind conjured up the picture of a small, skinny tree bending under hundreds of crows – he chuckled.

Shielder slowed to a near stop but continued to move at an extremely slow pace as Virgil took out the poster and looked it over. True to Val’s word The Snake, named as such in the wanted section below, had a very distinctive tattoo on his left cheek. The poster had very little detail on it of the man himself, but Virgil rolled it up and decided that for once that wouldn’t impede his search for the man. He would find the man, claim the reward, lock the crook up and finally settle down living a less dangerous life on Logan’s property.

Virgil sped Shielder up, passing by trees and rocks, looming boulders and piles of sand. The sun was slowly setting behind him; red and peach, pink and blue tones lighting up the sky as greedy clouds and sand particles swallowed the light, shining and reflecting the light they took so carelessly. Soon it would be night and Virgil would rather reach Joan’s old bar before dark. He made a few enemies when he switched from being an outlaw to being a hunter, and many of those enemies would likely be out here tonight, waiting for prey to fall into their gaping jaws. Virgil sighed a little at the sight of the bar, peeking out over the top of a hill, as dilapidated and run down as ever. He’d be able to sleep there tonight, but at first light, he’d leave to find The Snake, all he really wanted was to return home right now. He’d just keep reminding himself that this was his last job.

He slowed Shielder to a halt outside the bar and looked around, searching for stray outlaws and unwanted company. Upon finding neither Virgil slipped of Shielder and tied the horse up outside, he’d hope for the best and find out when morning came. He took his supplies and made his way inside the bar, locking up the doors and windows behind him so as not to attract unwanted attention. The hunter set up quickly and quietly, making sure everything he needed was out and ready whilst everything else was set away if he needed to make a hasty retreat. He ate in small bites, savouring the sweet golden-red apples that made him feel homesick.

After setting about loading up his pistol and checking to see if any liquor was still present, Virgil sat down and set his eyes on the only not covered window. The covering had been torn to rags, holes the size of a human head ripped in the greyed cloth. Stars shone brightly through the holes, winking at him as if they knew all his secrets – which they probably did, he’d been on the open road for long enough. The moon was a pool of shining silver white in the sky casting its glow on the surrounding land.

Virgil smiled and lay down, eyes closing as the night wore on. That night he dreamt of lakes of silver, stalks of golden wheat and a face so full of love it made him feel like the world belonged to him. Trees with yellow-green leaves and grass that tickled his feet, hands that held him close and a voice deep and comforting. The sky was a mass of dark blue yet light still illuminated the world as if it were day, the sun and moon both shone and the world around him moved like water. That night he dreamt of a person he’d long hoped would never appear in his dreams, a person he longed he would never feel for, a person he had sworn to protect and had yet to let down. Someone he never wanted to disappoint or hurt, someone he never wanted to see on the other end of a pistol. But in his dream, they ended up being and the sound of their screams tore him from his dream and back into the real world with a cry of their name.

He breathed heavily for a few minutes, freezing as he heard something rustle up some of the sand and rocks outside, the clacking of hooves on stone an indicator of a horse. His insides turned to ice as he grabbed the closest pistol he had by him, arming himself and standing to approach the door as slowly as he could. Virgil nudged his pistol through the door before peeking through and letting out a relieved sigh when the white figure of his horse turned to him and shuffled about a little, hooves making a clicking sound against the ground below. The hunter visibly deflated out of relief, finding this outcome much more favorable than meeting an ex-colleague. He turned around and scooted back inside to get some more rest but found himself tossing and turning in a never-ending cycle of the final image his mind had conjured in his dream presented to his closed eyes over and over again.

When morning came finally Virgil was more or less exhausted, but he needed to capture The Snake and that was that. So, with difficulty he was used to, he stood on wobbly legs and packed up everything he could, arming himself and setting off again atop Shielder. Shielder seemed to be more energized than he had been the previous day and as such was seemingly eager to run as fast as he could for Virgil, who was just as happy by this revelation as his horse seemed to be. They sped off into the desert, small clouds of dust and sand puffing up behind them as they made their way to the next closest town where Virgil knew The Snake would be most welcome, Heather Ville. Heather Ville was not as nice as the name may lead some to think, far from the beauty of the flower it was named after it was overrun with outlaws, crime ran rampant in the streets and never stopped. The officials were corrupt, the hunters dared not tread there, and the people were evil in almost all senses of the word.

Heather Ville was a day and a half’s ride from Akers town, even on horseback and right now from where Virgil was it’d take him the better part of the morning to reach it. So, he pulled down his hat, gripped the reins tightly and kicked Shielder into high gear. If he was to get home before the week was up he’d need to move fast. A flash of pale purple and red caught his eye and he pulled Shielder to an unexpected stop. A few strands of lavender stuck out of the rough ground around Joan’s bar, next to these stood a proud looking but small bush of red roses. He’d seen both at the same time, so both would have to come with him. Virgil smiled as he dismounted and pulled out a dagger, cutting off a single red rose and a single stalk of lavender. He eased them into his pocket and pulled himself back up onto Shielder’s saddle, safe in the knowledge he’d gotten what he promised to Logan.

Virgil stiffened as he entered the town, people looking him up and down as he rode in atop Shielder. The white horse and his black attire stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd of leather brown and dust covered people. He had to fight the urged to glare at a few that walked too close for his liking, choosing to steer Shielder away from them as best he could. The hunter could feel their eyes boring holes into his back, carving into him like knives, but he kept his cool and continued onwards toward the only bar in Heather Ville. After tying Shielder up he slipped off and walked inside, taking a seat at one of the many small tables as he watched for The Snake. It was almost night before Virgil even caught a glimpse of the man, but one wicked grin and the glisten of darkened skin was enough to draw his attention, and there he was – The Snake – not a table away from him calmly sipping at some sort of alcoholic drink with another person. Virgil couldn’t see their face but to be involved with The Snake, they had to be fairly high ranking in the outlaw world.

“You just going to sit here, or do you want something?”, a lady asked, giving Virgil a bored look as she tried to determine his immediate worth to her. Virgil shook his head and looked back at The Snake and his partner. It was still too early to tell if Virgil knew the person, so we went about looking them over. Somewhat broad shoulders with a small scar on the right side of their neck, their hat covered their hair so their hair must be rather short, they didn’t have many defined muscles but there were some semi-defined ones in their upper arms, a pistol tucked beneath their coat along with a dagger, light skin tone with short fingernails. Virgil sat back and ran through a set of people in his mind with those same characteristics, not many jumped out at him immediately.

The person coughed lightly before standing and Virgil pressed himself further into the chair he was in, trying to fade into the darkness around him. His eyes flicked up to The Snake and the person he was with, and he almost died right on the spot. Thomas Saderson smirked lightly as he walked past Virgil, completely ignoring him if he even noticed Virgil was there to begin with. The Snake followed silently, a soft almost fond smile creeping onto his face as he exited the bar behind the man. Virgil swallowed and felt his bones turn to liquid, unable to move even the smallest muscle as the sounds around him turned to white noise and a high-pitched wailing. His dream from the night before flashed through his mind and he stood slowly on shaky legs. He needed to find out where they were going, what they were doing, he needed to get out of here.

Virgil was at his horse seconds later, pulling Shielder away from the bar and into the street before mounting the white stallion and searching the crowd for the face he knew so well. There in the distance, he could see them, Thomas pulling himself onto a sleek looking brown steed with The Snake not far behind on his own darker brown horse. They were geared up and moving slowly towards the exit of Heather Ville. Virgil looked from side to side before spotting an alleyway he could take to another smaller exit, choosing that above following the two outright.

The hunter moved Shielder into the alleyway and along it quickly, trying to keep the horse’s movements quiet as they made their way to the edge of the town. From the exit of the alleyway he could see them trailing sand and dust, riding through the desert together. It made Virgil’s stomach turn, two high class outlaws riding together so fondly. What could they possibly be doing together? Why on earth would Thomas work with The Snake? Virgil turned Shielder off onto a less travelled path that would take him a longer way, but a more inconspicuous way. He needed to get The Snake’s reward and Thomas’ must be at least a little higher. With a boot to Shielder’s sides the two started off on their own path, tracking the outlaws across the desert.

Virgil grumbled to himself as he settled down for the night, the wind blowing hot and heavy against his face as the sun began to set. He opened his canteen and jiggled the remaining water about a little before capping it once more and letting out a long exhale. Two weeks. He’d been after the absolute scum – Thomas and The Snake – for two whole weeks. Virgil was so sick and tired of it all, normal hunts took between a day and three days. Two weeks away from the people he loved and cared for felt like an eternity. He was dying for some of Pat’s liquor, dying for Roman’s stupidly over the top dramatizations, dying for just one of the Lilac property’s apples. Virgil wanted to go home, but here he was, two weeks in and not a sliver closer to capturing the two crooks he was after.

The hunter scratched his cheek and looked up at the stars above. The sunlight had gone out not five minutes earlier, but the stars shone so brightly it was as if it were the middle of the night. A small smile softened Virgil’s expression, fatigue and agitation melting away to the soft gooey feelings of love that melted his entire being like honey warmed until it turned fluid like water. Seeing the stars, he felt as if he were on cloud nine, he had always loved the stars after all and knowing someone else would be looking up at them and thinking about him made him smile. He reached a hand up, tracing patterns in the air above his head and listening to the phantom murmurings that would occasionally accommodate the space in his heart when he was being as still as this, seeing the stars like this. Phantom murmurings that wounded an awful lot like a voice he heard on a daily basis, a voice that would murmur about the stars and astronomy, a voice that was deep but comforting, that stole a place in his mind. A voice he’d heard scream and cry, whisper and shout, whimper and laugh. It brought a large grin to his face, a dopey smile that would no doubt last for hours.

A horse’s whinny broke Virgil from his thoughts and he turned to Shielder, head perked up and ears spinning softly to and fro. Virgil stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair before setting his hat on firmly and gathering his things. He was equipping Shielder for travel when he heard the sound of hoof beats on sand closing in on his position, he was quick to finish his preparation and hop atop his horse ready to make a hasty exit. A laugh split the near silent air and Virgil shivered at the familiarity of it, he rode Shielder off the track and behind a boulder, jumping off and holding the horse’s reins to make sure the beast wouldn’t run from him. The hoof beats came to a rest a minute later, the sound of someone sliding off a horse arising from behind the boulder. There was some shuffling then another sound of someone dismounting a horse. That could only mean there were two riders out there and Virgil, unfortunately, only had a few weapons that would be able to take out both riders if he were caught. There was a murmur of mingled voices before one spoke clearly.

“So why are we going to Akers town?”, it asked, sharp as a knife but grumbled out as if the owner was lacking in sleep.

“If I have to repeat myself one more damned time I’ll slit your throat, Snake. Now help me with the fire”, a familiar voice growled, and Virgil clasped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming in fury. Thomas and The Snake were here, not five feet from him and he could barely do a thing to them. There was a little more shuffling, a little light and finally the smell of smoke on the hot breeze. Virgil peeked his head out around the rock and took in the sight before him. Two men sitting opposite each other with a fire between them chewed some bread with their horses tied up next to Thomas. He hadn’t changed much, he looked a little more tired and a little less handsome, but the deadly smooth charm was still there. The Snake seemed less tired, but he was no less deadly than Thomas, that was a fact.

“So why do you want him dead?”, The Snake asked casually and Thomas’ eyes flicked up from the ground, narrowing at the man across from him.

With a twist of his lip he spoke, “I’ve told you everything you need to know, why do you want me to repeat myself?”

“I just want a reminder”, The Snake said, voice light and airy as he raised his hands in a relaxed but defensive position. Thomas rolled his eyes and started eating, but Virgil had already connected the dots. If they were headed to Akers town they were off to kill Logan, something Virgil strongly refuted in the past, and something he would kill to stop now. He knew jail was too good for Saderson, he’d always known that. Death was too good for him as well, but it’d have to do. Virgil quietly hatched a plan as he waited for one of them to nod off. He just needed to move quietly and luckily for him, that was his special talent.

It took a good hour or so for Thomas to nod off, The Snake seeming to relax and take in the stars above. Virgil swallowed softly and grabbed some rope, cutting it into six somewhat equal lengths. He moved like a breeze, soft and gentle as he crossed to the outlaws and stood behind The Snake, who had at this point closed his eyes in favor of resting them. The first thing Virgil did was wrap one length around The Snake’s mouth, effectively silencing him as he struggled, and Virgil choked him quietly. The Snake’s struggling ceased, and Virgil tied his ankles and wrists up, one down. Virgil headed to Thomas to repeat the process only to be met with the barrel of a pistol.

“Now, now now. What do we have here?”, Thomas asked, voice like poison and smile sharp as a blade. His eyes were narrowed and finger ready to pull the trigger and land a bullet between Virgil’s eyes. “Haven’t seen you in quite some time, Virgil. How have you been?”, the outlaw asked, smile curving a fraction more and lips tightening around pearly white teeth. Virgil didn’t say a word, more focused on what he should not say than what he should say. Thomas sighed and pulled his pistol back before tapping the end gently against Virgil’s forehead, “you really should answer my questions, Virge.”

“Don’t call me that”, Virgil growled, hands still gripping the rope, but moving downwards ever so slightly so as not to be detected by Thomas. The man didn’t seem to notice, but Virgil could have cared less. He just needed to shoot Thomas, pack them both up and claim his reward. His hand grazed his pocket and the small bulge of the rose head in it made his heart flutter a tad at the idea of returning home with Thomas in tow.

“I’ll call you what I want. I may not own you like I did before, but you’re still the one at a disadvantage here”, Thomas said, and Virgil’s lips quirked in a tiny smile.

Virgil gripped his pistol, getting his body ready to leap out of the way, “is that so?”

“Yes, it is so. Why’re you smiling?”, Thomas asked, voice a deep growl of anger.

Virgil hummed lightly, smile spreading, “because the way I see it, you’re the one with a disadvantage here.”

“What?”, Thomas asked, seeming genuinely surprised by the hunter’s words. Virgil hummed a little more and darted down and to the right, knowing that was Thomas’ weaker side. He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Thomas’ head just as the outlaw spun to face him. Thomas pulled up his own, but Virgil quickly knocked it to the side, finger on the trigger of his pistol, ready to shoot a bloody hole between the man’s eyes. The outlaw held his hands up, quivering with terror as he surrendered quietly.

“Good, now for good measure”, Virgil said before aiming and shooting Thomas’ left foot. The outlaw howled in pain, blood dirtying the sand underneath and staining it an ugly red color. With that injury it’d be easier to tie him up, Virgil mused before getting to work tying Thomas’ hands behind his back and wrapping a piece of rope around his mouth, tightening it so it sat between Thomas’ teeth. The outlaw growled softly, but Virgil knew he was done with everything; being an outlaw, getting hurt, being cut down to size.

Virgil wasn’t cruel though and he tended Thomas’ wound as best he could with his limited resources before tying the two to their horses and covering them with their coats to shield them from the sun. He rode Shielder with the other horse’s trailing behind him and smiled as he neared Akers town gates. Soon he’d be home and then he’d finally put all his days of hunting and thieving behind him. He could almost taste the liquor, the apples, the jam and bread.

Valarie was already outside, putting up more wanted posters as Virgil rode in with the two behind him. At first, the sheriff could barely speak before she was shaking his hand vigorously and congratulating him. With the same flare Virgil had come to expect from Roman, he dismounted Shielder and bowed to Valarie before pulling Thomas off the horse and half carrying him inside the office, ready to be gaoled for however long, he hoped it’d be a life sentence this time. He pulled The Snake off his horse and then gave Valarie a smile, the sheriff ran inside to gather his reward, returning with a small bag of coins and a smile of her own.

“Thank you, Virge. That’s two criminals. It… it was a pleasure doing business with you”, Valarie said as Thomas shouted at Virgil from inside the office. Vulgar names falling from his lips as Virgil merely smiled and turned, grabbing Shielder’s reins and beginning to mount him once more.

“Please was all mine, Val”, Virgil murmured as he placed the bag in his saddle bag and turned back to her.

“Oh, wait. Take the horses, I’ve got no use for them and they’ll be auctioned off anyway”, Valarie said with a smile and Virgil nodded before tying their reins to Shielder’s saddle. He waved at the sheriff before making his way up the hill. He had someone he needed to see.

Time had always been cruel to Logan. Too fast, yet too slow. It had passed by so quickly when he was with Anthony or Roman, and now it dragged on as he waited for Virgil to come home. It’d been at the very least two weeks, but Logan knew better than to count the days until the hunter’s return. It’d only make the whole process drag on longer and he’d rather not spend day after day wondering when the man would return home.

Logan reached up to grab another apple, sighing as he dusted it off and set it in the large bucket he’d used to collect all the other apples on his property. It was still weird to call it that, though it was indeed his property. He bit his lip as he picked the last apple on the tree, dropping it in and picking up the bucket with little difficulty. After all the labor he’d dealt with, such a weight was easy to hold. He was halfway back to the house when he caught a glimpse of black, white and brown. At first, he shook his head, disregarding it for nothing, but his heart swelled as thoughts raced through his mind. Could it be he was home?

The ex-hunter didn’t want to get his hopes up too high, but hearing the whinnies and neighs of horses, the sounds of stall doors opening and closing, it was enough to make his heart skip a beat and have him racing for the house. He dropped the bucket by the back door, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it as he heard three knocks on the front door. He sprinted to it, almost throwing it open but choosing to remain somewhat composed he opened it slowly and smiled up at the black decked figure before him.

Virgil smiled down at him before stepping into the house and pulling off his hat. He hung it on the coat rack and followed the owner through to the living room where he took a seat in the red chair and smiled at Logan.

“You’re finally back”, Logan said, voice a near whisper as he tried to contain all the emotions he was feeling.

“Yeah, finally back”, Virgil confirmed as he shifted in the seat. Logan let out a sigh and collapsed in his chair, head tilting back as he seemed to relax for the first time in days, all stress leaving his body at once as Virgil fiddled with something in his pocket.

“You’re done”, Logan whispered into the silence and Virgil nodded gently at the words, smiling softly at Logan’s relaxed form across from him.

“Yeah, I got your flower”, Virgil murmured, standing and holding out a hand to Logan who took it and stood gingerly. Logan walked to the chest of drawers, drawing out his book and smiling down at it as Virgil reached around him and placed the stalk of lavender on the cover. “Lavender for you, today”, Virgil whispered, and Logan opened the book, flipping the pages over and past the blue-violet to the final page in the book where he placed the stalk and closed it gently, sitting it atop the drawers now instead of inside.

“All done”, Logan said turning around and looking around to find no sign of Virgil. He heard a cough and looked down where the hunter was kneeling before him a dark red dried rose clasped in his fingers, extended upwards towards Logan who stopped and looked at it. It was a little squished and the stem was dark with age, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Logan took the flower gently and smiled down at the rose in his hands.

“All done”, Virgil said, standing and gently taking one of Logan’s hands in his own looking behind the ex-hunter at the cabinet. “Excuse me for one second”, Virgil said as he passed Logan to the drawers and opened one of them. He pulled out a small box, no bigger than his hand. Virgil clasped it tight and turned to Logan, offering it to him with a small smile. The man took it and looked it over; it was a blue box with a small hinge at the back for opening, covered in small markings and etchings, made of oak if he had to guess. He ran his fingers over them, handing his rose to Virgil as he opened the box. Inside was a small cushion with a divot in the centre, the cushion was made of crushed red velvet, but it was the item in the centre that caught Logan’s eye the most. In the centre was a small golden band with a small gemstone shining a dark blue. It was simple yet beautiful, so lovely it had Logan lost for words. “It’s yours… if you’ll have me”, Virgil said with a small smile and Logan looked up at him. Tears streamed down Logan’s face, collecting on his chin and dripping onto his shirt, a hand came to his mouth as he stifled a sob and nodded vehemently at Virgil. Virgil smiled, chuckled and swooped in, gripping Logan around his waist and giving the man a small kiss, “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

Final Acknowledgments/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx (@lowkeysalient) and @sea-blue-child

So details: See the title? That’s a little competition between everyone who reads this. You have two days starting from the moment I upload this to two days after I upload this to come up with a title, best title wins. You can use asks, messages or notes to send your title suggestions my way. You will be competing with those on AO3 and your fellow readers and I will be the final judge on the winning title. You can submit as many ideas as you want, but there are some rules to this...

You can’t steal another person’s idea. If two suggestions are made that are exactly the same I will discount both and neither of you will get to have your title be the title for the epilogue, this will be a shame if you’re the original owner and creator and the idea is really good. Everyone has an equal chance at winning, no one will have any more of a chance than anyone else. If I hear someone saying the competition is rigged I will stop the competition and I’ll decide on a title myself. Be as creative as you want, but try to make the title work with what the story is about. No innuendos, curses, foul language or anything unhealthy or suggestive. Finally, have fun. This is a little something of me wanting to give back to all of you, so have fun with your titles.

Competition is now closed - if you’re upset I gave you a good two weeks extra to get a title in. The winner is WoW from AO3 and their title ‘Into the Sunset’. Congratulations WoW :)

Thank you all for following and seeing this through, it’s been a pleasure writing for you all.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #analogical #royality

6 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Chapter 16: Finale - A Whole Lot of Sand

A/N: Final chapter... maybe.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (somewhat implied)

Word Count: 6000+

Thomas smirked as the rain lightened up, water slipping off the leather of his coat as he rode through the rest of the storm. The wind whipped his drenched hair back, hat pushed down on his head with his other hand as one gripped the reins tightly. It was not an uncommon sight to see, a cloaked individual riding through the wastelands atop their noble steed, what made it unusual though was the fact that it was raining coupled with the fact that this particular individual happened to be one of the most influential, powerful, all-knowing people in the whole of the outlaw community – a strange sight indeed.

The outlaw boss turned his smirk into a smile as he neared the edge of the storm, lightning flashing through the clouds in a display of nature’s power. A bolt struck not a mile away from him, making him look from the horizon to the not darkened spot. Thunder crackled overhead, dark and menacing with hidden evil intentions. Rain pounding down upon the man as he rode as if trying to push him down, pulling him back towards the storm with little success. Thomas was a man of determination and steadfast resolve, a little storm like the one surrounding him right this instant would not hold him down. And indeed, it did not seem to hold him back; even as the clouds parted for yet another bolt of lightning, electricity charging the air as it struck a tree. The tree burst into flame, only to be doused by the heavy sheets of rain that filled the air even more than the electricity did. The tree had been closer than the last bolt as if they were coming closer, striking closer to the man as if this was some sort of divine comeuppance that he had to atone for, his sins laid before the world as his true form was revealed for what it was.

Thomas almost flinched – keyword almost – as another bolt struck down closer to him, his horse raising on its hind legs as the thunder crackled louder making his ears hurt with how loud it was. Like a thousand-people yelling in his ear at the same time until the voices became disjointed, distorted, and all around inhuman in nature. A clap of thunder sent his horse into a frenzied, panicked canter across the plains, hooves clipping the stones that rolled from hills to valleys.

Though most of the area was a plateau, sand, and boulders stretching out as far as the eye could see, there were more than a few sections full of hills that dove down, down, down into dry river beds and dead tree-dotted landscapes. These valleys eventually led to hills once more and the plateau renewed itself in the traveler’s eyes. It was a beautiful landscape that, if given the chance, could be a lovely view. But as many were oh-so-fond of expressing, the heat of the desert was just too great and powerful for any mere mortal to brave alone. Sure, in numbers a home could be made, but without numbers on your side you might as well pack it in and call it a day. True the desert could be one of the most beautiful landscapes you could traverse, but it could also be the most treacherous, the most dangerous, the most torturous to maneuver without direction and an abundance of supplies.

Thomas horse slid down a particularly rough patch of stones, loosened by the water and smaller stones. The rain began to mix with the dirt to form puddles of sludgy mud, that stuck to the horse’s legs and dragged it down with a heavy force. The sand then stuck to the mud, blending with it to form a painful, slimy fusion that stuck to the fur, mixed with the hairs of the horse’s tail and splattered up onto Thomas’ boots. Thomas took no notice of this, more intent on the final destination and the possibility of more rain. The end was in sight, a section of blue that stretched out from the clouds into the distance. He could almost feel the sweltering heat, the sand on his lips, the biting hot winds that blew at his hat back so he had to hold it in place.

Another bolt of lightning escaped the cloud’s clutches, racing to the earth and striking a dead tree. The rain came down harder and then it stopped. Thomas looked behind him with a triumphant smirk. The clouds still loomed overhead, but the rain had departed leaving a few more kilometers of cloud covered sky before the blue came back. The sun was shining through the clouds, patches of pale yellow-orange drenching the world with light. Just another few miles and he’d be free, free of the dreadful dark clouds; with their lightning and their rain. He pushed his horse to go faster as the blue sky spilled into the clouds not far off. He only had a few more meters to go when a bolt of lightning crashed into the ground, startling his horse enough to make it run off course, trampling stones and slipping into water drenched sand off the track. Thomas groaned inwardly, hitting his horse’s flank with as much force as he could, hoping to get his message across in the harsh treatment.

Moments later the pair were back on course, heading for the blue sky with nothing but pure determination fuelling their journey. The wind was bearable at this point, a soft breeze that was steadily becoming warmer as they neared the edge of the clouds. Then sunlight hit them; hot, blinding, pure sunlight that burned the ground and scorched Thomas’ soul. Thomas almost cried out in joy, lifting his hat off his head as the light hit the brown, tousled locks. The wind grew hot, blowing harshly and thrusting granules of sand into the outlaw boss’ face. Thomas looked back with a triumphant smirk, the clouds receding into the distance as if fleeing from his very presence. He felt whole, powerful, alive and above all; he felt free. Thomas looked back at the horizon, narrowed his eyes and pushed his body low against his horse, kicking the creature to go faster as a far-off group of tiny buildings grew ever nearer.

Anthony stared across the strands of sun-kissed wheat, their silky golden complexion shining in the noon light. The storm had passed by them, stopping only a short while to drench the landscape with bittersweet rain. The world stunk with humid heat that was quickly becoming just heat; crushing, boiling, rage-filled heat. Virgil had long since gotten up and was now eating some bread and jam at the Lilac dinner table, watching the world outside as Anthony stood in the back doorway. Logan would not be pleased to note the items they had left out to dry were now just as wet as they had been a couple of hours previous.

Virgil stood and walked over to the younger boy, bread dangling from his teeth as his hands gripped the walls for support. He could walk fine without the need for assistance, but he’d rather not risk opening the wound patched up so kindly for him by the hunter. The outlaw stepped up behind Anthony, choosing to look out with the Lilac as his free hand grabbed the slice of bread and chewed methodically on the bite he had taken. It truly was a sight; luscious, golden land stretching out as far as the eye could see while raindrops danced on the green leaves of the trees and flowers, slipping down them and dropping to the ground with a tiny splash. There were hills in the distance, sprawling orange and yellow mounds that dipped in and out of view. The corral seemed a mere splodge of woody brown on the picturesque golden and green landscape. By the time Virgil had noticed his legs were tired from standing his bread was gone and Anthony was looking up at him from his spot in the doorway.

“Oh… uh, you have a beautiful piece of land”, Virgil muttered as he quickly looked back out, keen to see more of the beautiful landscape. He noticed the tiny creek that twisted its way through the valley at the bottom of the hill, the little bridge that had precisely carved balusters that curved around and around, up to the handrail that curved as well like the entire bridge – minus the planks that formed the bottom – were made of two giant vines with tiny wooden flowers decorating it. The creek itself was also a sight to behold; clear as crystal and glinting just right in the sun that it seemed to be made of pure glass. Virgil supposed that at just the right time of day the creek would gleam like gold or sparkle like silver, but that time was not now. Now it glittered like a diamond, clear and pure.

“You. I like you. Will you marry my brother?”, Anthony asked out of the blue and Virgil felt his throat and mouth grow so dry he coughed and his eyes bulged a little under the question. He looked down at the young Lilac as if it were a joke, but Anthony didn’t appear to be joking, rather he remained stoic and sure of his declaration. Virgil didn’t know how to respond at first, he’d really only met the boy on one other occasion, that being when he found the boy taking care of Di for him. How could this boy be so sure he was the right match for Logan when he’d only met him once?

“Look, kid”, Virgil began, dropping to one knee and looking up at Anthony who turned his stare into a glare. Virgil swallowed the accumulating saliva as the Lilac crossed his arms and continued to glare down at him. “The thing is while I’d love to marry your big brother, and trust me he seems like a good guy, we’ve barely started getting to know each other and well… you don’t really know me that well. You’ve pretty much only just met me and you seem to think that out of everyone I’d be a suitable candidate for marrying Logan. I just… I mean I’m flattered but we need to get to know each other first before anything else happens.”

“That’s what I thought”, Anthony said with a sigh, glare receding into a look of disappointment, “you’re perfect for him. You know that, right? You two are perfect for each other, but you’re not even friends, far from it actually. But trust me when I say, you are by far the best person to marry Lo. No one I have ever seen has even come close to being a suitable candidate, but you… you just turn up with a wound in your side and a vendetta against your boss and suddenly I have the best candidate for marrying my brother within arm’s reach.”

“That’s… that’s very kind of you to say, but that still doesn’t equate for Logan and I not being that close. People need time to adjust and see if they’re compatible, you can’t just throw your bother into a relationship with me based off one previous meeting and the idea that I’d be a good match for him”, Virgil said with a soft smile. It tore him up to say they weren’t friends, but it was true. Logan and he could, and most likely would never be friends. Their jobs forbid it. A hunter and an outlaw being friends, unthinkable. A hunter and an outlaw being more than friends, being in a relationship, being romantically and physically intertwined; inexcusable. Even if they were together they’d both be hunted down like dogs for being romantically involved. It just wasn’t supposed to happen and it would never happen. Virgil wouldn’t put the Lilac’s in that situation even if he wanted to be friends with Logan or, heaven forbid, wanted to date the man. Anthony was innocent and so was Logan, and Virgil wasn’t about to put them in harm’s way for his own selfish needs and wants.

“You’re still a better match than any one of his other suitors”, Anthony grumbled as Virgil stood. For some reason, the idea of Logan having suitors made Virgil’s heart twinge and his eye twitch involuntarily. Anthony wasn’t looking but the way Virgil had stopped moving made him look up to see the slightly angry expression on his face, his eyes trained on the horizon. Anthony thought this over for a second before thinking up a theory and deciding to test it out. “I mean, you’re obviously the best choice, but there was this one guy. I can’t really remember his name, but he had charm, plenty of it and he was so nice. Swept Lo off his feet, literally. And he’d kiss my brother’s hand at least four times a day”, Anthony said with an air of nonchalance, taking note of the way Virgil’s eye twitched, his hands tightening into a fist, knuckles turning white from the exertion. Anthony smiled a little before turning and walking a little way away from the outlaw in case Virgil snapped at what he was about to lie about, “and come to think of it. Logan’s hands weren’t the only thing he’d kiss. I believe it was with him that Logan gave up his first kiss.”

Virgil snapped, whirling around to face the boy who had long since vanished from sight. Blood was pumping around his body, cheeks hot with anger while his heart was swamped with mixed emotions; anger, sadness, jealousy, and fear washed around inside the cardiovascular muscle with the rage of a typhoon. After a few minutes of calm breathing Virgil limped over to the chair he had been in before and sat down heavily. He exhaled through clenched teeth and closed his eyes as he tried to stop the vicious cycle of jealousy from taking over. With a rough, calloused hand Virgil scrubbed over his face, leaning back in the chair as he tried to calm his body and emotions. It wasn’t hard, but it took some time before he was fully in charge of himself again. He kept his hand in place over his eyes until he felt someone tap his shoulder gently. The touch was light as if the person was worried about incurring his wrath or upsetting him if they tapped too harshly.

The outlaw craned his head back and let his hand drop to his chest before he opened his eyes and looked up into Logan’s worried face. Virgil’s eyes snapped wide open and he sprung forward in the chair with so much force he almost fell out of it. He whipped his gaze to Logan who merely looked at him inquisitively.

“Are you alright, Virgil?”, Logan asked and Virgil’s mouth went dry with nerves. He blinked a couple of times before nodded shakily and went to stand. The outlaw kept his eyes firmly planted on the ground out of embarrassment while Logan looked him over with a hint of concern. “Are you sure? You had quite the wound and I fear it will not completely heal for some time.”

“I… I… I-I”, Virgil stuttered, searching for words until Logan took his right wrist in his delicate fingers and smoothed them over the bandaged skin.

“What happened to your wrists?”, Logan asked in a soft, almost sad, tone. Virgil shook his head gently, reminding himself that the hunter would and could not feel sadness for him. They’d barely met or talked for crying out loud. After the stiff reminder, Virgil took a breath and proceeded to move away, not wanting to get any closer to the hunter then he had to.

“Ropes… and fire”, Virgil said softly, not looking up as he took his wrist and pulled it close to his chest, swallowing softly and listening to the gentle footfalls of Logan moving to the other side of the table. There was a scratchy sound, the kind that a chair would make when being taken out and dragged softly on the floor beneath it. Virgil turned to look at Logan, who now sat at the other end of the table, looking solemnly down at his hands. His eyes were full of a concern he should not have, such a thing was dangerous for both of them, but the sight made Virgil’s heart melt a little.

“Who?”, Logan asked, looking up through his glasses and as the light of the sun caught them Virgil swore he saw fire in the soft brown eyes. He almost reached out to bring Logan closer, if just to look into those eyes again to check for the fire he had seen. It took the outlaw a second to realize he had been holding his breath and he released it with a shudder, looking away from the hunter and to his leg, hands dropping to scratch an itch on his right thigh.

“My boss”, Virgil replied finally and Logan seemed to sink a little in his seat as if it were his fault the outlaw had these wounds. The idea brought a modicum of defensiveness out in Virgil for both himself and Logan, because yes it had been in a way Logan’s fault he had accumulated these soon to be scarred wrists, but it was also his own fault and no one, not even Virgil, should make the hunter feel like anything up to this point had been Logan’s fault.

“I apologize”, Logan said softly and Virgil swallowed, no used to hearing those words from anyone. The words made his gut tighten painfully and he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

“Not your fault he’s a dick”, Virgil said, voice rough and low even though it sounded high and squeaky in his head. He hoped the hunter would realize that his sadness was effecting Virgil more than the outlaw would have ever thought possible.

“True, but I apologize that you had to go through such an ordeal. Pray tell, what forced your boss into doing this?”, Logan asked and for a second Virgil was confused, before he realized that up to this point Logan had no idea who his boss was and what his boss wanted.

“I… he’s trying to keep me away from something that means a lot to him”, Virgil said, standing automatically, even though he had no idea why. Then he heard a sound so painful it made him see double for a second. A dreaded clatter of stones falling under hooves. A horse was approaching the Lilac house. Virgil pushed a hand to his side, fingers gripping the hilt so hard it hurt. He took three giant steps into the hallway and died a little inside as he saw Anthony poking his head out the door to see who was coming up to the house.

“What is he trying to keep you away from?”, Logan asked, following Virgil with furrowed brows and a concerned expression.

“You”, Virgil said before pulling out his pistol and pointing it at the door as a dark figure appeared behind it, “Anthony, behind me now.” Anthony obeyed the order, not knowing why, but trembled a little upon seeing the outlaw look so furious.

“Knock, knock”, a voice said from behind the door and Virgil whipped out his arm to shield the two Lilac’s, now clutching each other. Anthony trembled violently in his older brother’s arms while Logan tried to soothe him, running a hand through his hair as a wicked laugh echoed from behind the door and three hard knocks resonated from the wood. “Come on out, little outlaw. I’m here for my husband and his brother, and I plan on collecting.”

Virgil stood his ground even as there was a tell-tale click of a pistol being loaded. The figure faded from the door before a loud gunshot resonated through the house. Vigil turned quickly, shielding the two boys with his body as the door swung wide open, handle shot to pieces form the bullet it had recently taken. Thomas stood, cloaked in black, pistol raised and a malevolent smile on his face. His smile split into a wide grin as he dropped his pistol to his side and walked towards the three, eyes wild with a dangerous happiness that only a cold-blooded killer could possess. Virgil turned to look at him, rage filling his eyes as he readied his own pistol only to buckle as another shot pierced his stomach.

“Such a shame. You were a very valuable asset, my dear Virgil. But you stand between me and what is rightfully mine, so… I guess I was wrong. I overestimated you and underestimated you, Virgil. First, I thought you would die, then I thought you’d put up more of a fight, but no. I found myself wrong in both instances”, Thomas said, voice smooth as melted butter, rich as gold, and deadly as poison. He spoke in a low, calm tone as he walked to the three, steps slow but deliberate as he was clouded in dust for a second only to materialize from it seconds later with an evil glint in his eyes. “You disappoint me. For an outlaw, you’re not putting up much of a fight. And for a hunter, Logan, you’re not doing much to stop me from killing him”, Thomas said, tutting lightly as he loaded his pistol, stepped over to where Virgil was groaning in a small puddle of his own blood and gently bent down, pushing the tip of his pistol into Virgil’s scalp with a slightly less malicious smile. “I guess I thought much more highly of you than I thought. Now, Virgil, say hello to your family for me”, Thomas said as he rested his finger on the trigger and began to squeeze only to be knocked out of the way with a strong hit to his head.

“Stay away from him, you monster”, Logan spat out, wooden chair raised to hit Thomas again, eyes flashing with fury behind his glasses. Thomas growled and looked up, his own eyes flashing with a renewed vigor.

“You bitch”, he growled out as blood dripped down from his mouth, lips split from the impact. He raised his pistol and shot at the hunter, who pulled the chair up just in time for the bullet to be lodged in the wood. Thomas stood and jumped at the man, narrowly missing as Logan jumped away and raced out the door, the outlaw boss hot on his tail.

Virgil looked up as boots came into view and two tiny hands began to pull him across the floor to the couch. Anthony pulled him up and ran a hand over the wound gently, before grabbing a pair of tweezers laying on the upturned coffee table and setting to work on removing the bullet from the outlaw. Virgil screamed so loud his throat hurt until he could no longer hear his own voice and he realized he’d screamed enough to lose his voice. Anthony bandaged the wound carefully before running up the stairs to grab his own pistol.

“I’ll be back”, the young Lilac said before racing off to Virgil’s coarse yelling. Virgil watched him go, gritting his teeth before sitting up. The wound was bleeding through the bandage, but a little blood never stopped him. The outlaw stood through the pain and limped out of the house, turning to his horse and climbing atop her. He pushed her on towards the township and prayed he’d get there in time.

In town, the fight continued as Logan narrowly avoided a shot that pierced the glass window above him, tiny pieces cascading down upon him as he fled the scene. He was weaponless, tired, and without Roman by his side. He’d been shot at multiple times and he wondered where Thomas was getting all this ammunition from. He had a wound on his upper left arm from a narrowly dodged bullet and another wound on his right calf from a shard of glass that was now impaled in there.

“Run. Run all you want Logan. I’ll find you, catch you and kill you. I’ll hunt you down and make you bleed. Come on out little Lilac so I can kill you like the hunter you are”, Thomas taunted as he watched for movement. Logan stifled a small cry from behind a barrel as he pulled the glass shard from his calf and dropped the red covered shard to the ground. He breathed as softly as he could but he knew he was running low on time. “Found you little Lilac”, Thomas said and Logan ducked as a bullet passed over the barrels and into the wood wall above him. He ran out from the cover and ducked into the bar, sliding across the floor and behind the bar with relative ease. He bit his lip and turned his head to the side, listening for footfalls. He turned to where he’d come from and paled. A thin red line trailed from his leg to the end of the bar. Parts of it were dotty from the running, but if Thomas was as observant as he’d come to learn he could be, he was doomed.

Logan stayed silent, terror coursing through his veins as he tried to imagine a way to get out of this situation. He was thinking on his feet, without a proper plan, and in pain. His mind was clouding over and he shook it to try and clear the fog. His blood stopped cold in his veins, icing over in fear as the doors to the bar creaked open and heavy boots slowly made their way to the counter.

“If I didn’t know you were a hunter, I never would have believed it, little Lilac. You certainly don’t act like one”, Thomas said, eyes trailing across the line of blood on the floor, following it to the end of the bar as he walked along it. “I suppose I should have never worried about you or the other one. If it’s this easy to take you out, well… I guess I should have done this years ago.”

The footfalls stopped behind Logan and he pushed himself closer to the wall of the bar, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t be found and shot. Thomas chuckled lowly, pushing his pistol over the counter and around under it until he felt it land against something soft and squishy.

“I will miss our dates”, Thomas cackled, as Logan’s eyes widened and tears began to leak from his eyes. The outlaw boss began to pull the trigger right as something impaled itself in his shoulder, causing him to lose his stance and the pistol to go off a few centimeters from Logan’s body. Thomas whirled around and Logan scrambled to the end of the bar, peeking around as he pulled in breath after breath.

Anthony stood in the doorway, pistol raised and expression stoic. His lithe fingers grazed the trigger again, pulling it back and letting another shot fly as Thomas fell to the ground in both pain and fright. The younger Lilac stepped forward, raising the pistol to Thomas once again and looking him right in the brown eyes.

“I told you. We talked about this Thomas. I warned you and you didn’t listen to me”, Anthony said softly, voice as calm as the babbling of the creek outside. Thomas stared up at the boy as Anthony tutted lightly. “I told you to let him live his life and now look what’s happened. You really thought I wasn’t serious. I remember when I warned you I told you to give him time or you wouldn’t have any left. Now… let’s make good on my words, shall we?”

Thomas felt fear paralyze him for a split second before he got his wits about him and raised his gun to the boy, firing as Anthony dodged with the speed one would acquire after years of training. Thomas fired again and again, but each time Anthony dodged the bullet, raising his own weapon as Thomas stopped to reload his pistol making quick glances up at the boy who drew near to him.

“I wouldn’t be so overconfident in your abilities, boy”, Thomas snarled, as he fired again. Anthony dodged and looked over at Logan who was now leaning against the bar and watching the spectacle, but Anthony’s eyes saw what his brother could not. There was a wound on Logan’s left thigh that was leaking an unseemly amount of blood, the trail moving down his leg and soaking his pants through. Anthony pulled his dodging to a halt and fired once at Thomas before grabbing his brother by the wrist and sprinting out of the bar, his elder brother stumbling behind him.

“Anthony”, Logan murmured, looking up as he fell to the ground. The blood was leaking out too much, the blood loss finally beginning to affect the elder as Logan breathed heavily and tried to stand. Thomas appeared from the bar, wild-eyed and furious. He raised his pistol and Anthony watched in horror as the bullet was let fly, straight from his elder brother. It was meant to be a last resort, what Anthony did next, a final solution should his brother require it, but oh did Logan need it right now. Anthony pulled the trigger of his pistol at the same time he jumped in front of Logan.

Blood splattered the ground. Logan looked behind him with wide eyes, blood spots decorating is glasses like stars in the sky. Anthony swayed on his feet for a second before plummeting to the ground, bullet impaled in his chest and blood gushing from the hole it left. There was no way to save him, Logan knew this deep in his mind, but right now his heart spoke volumes and all it was saying was ‘save him’. So, Logan tried his best. He took off his sleeves, opening Anthony’s shirt to survey the damage as red leaked down the tan chest with an unsettling ease. Logan pressed the torn fabric to his brother’s chest, willing, hoping, praying that it would be enough to save the younger Lilac. But as horses pulled into town and an outlaw put a hand on his shoulder Logan knew it was too late.

It was a pity, really. At the age of twelve, barely having lived his life and so full of promise, Anthony’s tale had come to an end. He died in his brother’s arms after a few shaky breaths. He never told his brother he loved him, never got to see the elder grow old, never got to experience the joys of life, the trials, the pain. He never even left the little town of Akers. He was born, raised and died in the town that barely recognized his existence.

Logan screamed. A loud, blood curdling, heart-wrenching scream that pierced the air and told of so many things; pain, hurt, the everlasting love for family, and the aching of losing a loved one. Logan rested his head on Anthony’s lifeless body and cried into it, not noticing the arms that were around his waist, the body behind his that rocked back and forth and cradled him as if he were a newborn. In just three days Logan had lost two family members to this world. To the cruel harsh reality that was his life. He wanted to curl up, live in a shell and die from loneliness at the age of twenty-eight. It was all too much. It was all too much to process; all the pain and misery and heartache. His mother was gone, his father was gone, and now his brother was gone. And it was all Saderson’s fault.

Logan’s eyes snapped open and he looked towards the outlaw boss, restrained by his partner and the barkeep. His breath came out sharply, eyes zeroed in on the man that took away his last family member. Oh, he’d pay for that. He’d pay dearly for that. In one movement Logan had sized Antony’s pistol and stood, face blank as he walked over to the outlaw boss. The world’s noises were gone, everything was black apart from the one person who took it all from him. Logan’s couldn’t feel anything, he couldn’t feel the way Joan was grabbing his arm, the way Virgil was trying to pull him back. He couldn’t hear Roman’s yells or Patton’s cries. All he knew was the man he saw was the man he had to kill. Logan raised the firearm and stood over Thomas, ready to kill the man execution style. Thomas didn’t look up at him, but Logan could see the manic grin on his face, feel the smug pride that radiated off him. It made him sick. He was about to pull the trigger when a hand reached into his view and grabbed it from him. Logan whipped around to stared down the person that had taken his revenge from him. He stared into Virgil’s eyes, both stoic as they stared each other down. And then Logan crumpled. He shook and tears began to bead at the edges of his eyes. Virgil wrapped him in a tight hug, breathing heavily as they sunk to the ground. Logan gripped at his shirt and cried his heart out for the town to see.

Roman sighed softly, looking down at the man that had murdered his best friend’s brother and father. If he was in charge Thomas would get a life sentence, never to be heard from again. Thomas didn’t seem to acknowledge the world at all, whether it was because of the bullet in his arm or because he’d just killed a child in cold blood, no one knew. Roman and Joan took him away, saddled up and tied up tightly behind them. He didn’t get a fair trial, Roman never broke the news of that to Logan, preferring that his best friend never know that for all his crimes Thomas would only serve two years. It cut them up, outraged every single one of them that Thomas would be free in no time. So, they spent what little time they had free of the monster.

Virgil was the only one Logan seemed to really trust, perhaps because he’d stopped the hunter from committing murder based on the twisted idea of revenge. Roman allowed the outlaw to stay with Logan alone, under the condition that he never abandon the scholarly hunter. Virgil didn’t decline and very soon after he gave up being an outlaw in favor of helping Logan return to his full luster instead of the dulled shell that had become. They held Anthony’s funeral a few weeks after Thomas’ incarceration, burying him next to David and Crystal in the cemetery. Not a soul from the town turned up, aside from Roman and Patton. Roman continued to be a hunter while Joan and Talyn moved into Akers to help Patton.

After a couple of months, Roman returned from a hunting trip gone awry. He was gravely injured and had to stay away from the job for a few more months. Before he could return to the lifestyle Logan offered him a job caring for the horses on the Lilac property. Roman agreed quickly, but the two were quick to go back to hunting. Virgil, realizing that he could never be an outlaw again, turned to help with the hunting. He picked it up quickly, but Logan could never hold his pistol right anymore, claiming to see Thomas at the end of the barrel every time he tried to shoot someone. He eventually left the hunting to Roman and Virgil, turning to farming as his father would have wanted.

In the end, Logan did settle down, Virgil did find his way out of being an outlaw and the group did find happiness. Thomas did get sent to gaol and did get his comeuppance. The story would forever be one that the group would pass on to their children and grandchildren. A story of love, family, gun fights and a whole lot of sand.

Acknowledgments/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx (@lowkeysalient) and @sea-blue-child

And that’s pretty much it, thanks for reading and reaching the end. I hope you liked it.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #analogical #royality

7 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Chapter 15: Out of Joan's Bar and into the Desert

A/N: Second last chapter, I guess a little warning for blood and stitches.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (not yet implemented)

Word Count: 4900+

Virgil woke up with a heavy, yet warm feeling on his stomach that made him smile lightly, the feeling causing him to drift in and out of consciousness. It was a welcome feeling, like a dim, comforting fire in the large expanse of black that surrounded him at nights, when he lay in the dark, cold abyss and contemplated how his life could have gone so wrong in such a short amount of time. It was like the hugs he used to receive from his parents; caring, soft, warm and full of so much love he could drown in it. It was like the sun setting on his back; not blindingly hot, but not just cold quite yet. It was an embrace, the sun’s radiance, the fire in the dark, the warm in the cold. Virgil opened his eyes and let his passive, nonchalant expression fall into a small, soft smile. He tried to capture the memory, this moment forever frozen in time with all the feelings he was experiencing right now.

The outlaw looked down, eyelids parting ever so slightly to look at the sleeping figure, head nestled into his stomach and hands tucked under his head. Logan breathed softly, exhalations tickling the exposed skin with a gentle breeze. It was… calming, the quiet, the stillness, the beauty of the scene. Virgil smiled softly, running a hand gently through Logan’s hair.

“Why are you here?”, a voice asked and Virgil pulled back his hand as if he had been burned. His eyes flying to look at the boy, Anthony, seated in a chair a few feet away from him. Virgil’s heart thudded in his chest, shuddering with fear as he eyed the small boy, perched innocently in the large chair with not a single emotion visible on his face. The outlaw swallowed loudly, before closing his eyes and looking across at the young boy.

“I’m here to warn your brother… to protect him”, Virgil said, voice gravelly from disuse as a hand made its way to the hunter’s hair, subconsciously stroking through the soft strands.

“I can protect him myself. He can protect himself. We can protect each other. What did you come here to protect him from?”, Anthony asked, eyes narrowing slightly at the hand in his brother’s hair. Virgil drew in a breath, exhaling slowly as his lungs deflated and his eyes wandered to the sleeping hunter.

“I came here to protect him from…from my boss”, Virgil said softly, running a thumb over Logan’s forehead and taking his hand away from him as the hunter’s brow creased in his sleep. Logan shifted a little before settling back down, sighing softly in his sleep before falling back into the dark abyss once more. Virgil looked down at the hunter, smiling gently before he heard a noise and tensed, looking back at Anthony to find the boy a mere foot from him. The outlaw let out a small cry, that cut off in his scratchy throat. Vigil coughed and closed his eyes, feeling the cold rim of a glass prod at his lips.

“Drink. I got you some water and after you’ve drunk it I want to hear more about your boss”, Anthony said, handing Virgil the glass, turning and taking a seat in the large chair once more while the outlaw began to drink. It was refreshing to have the cool liquid course down the back of his throat, easing the scratch and loosening the tenseness he felt. He pulled the glass away, discovering it empty before he looked at Anthony, eyes searching the boy for anything, anything that could tell him of the boy’s true intentions.

“What do you want to know?”, Virgil asked, sighing as he looked at the glass forlornly. Anthony chuckled, drawing Virgil to look at him curiously; the chuckle was the most emotion Virgil had been able to draw from the boy.

“Everything…I guess we’ll start with a backstory or we can just skip straight to your boss’ name and then I’ll be on the lookout for them”, Anthony said, a hint of sarcasm layered in his words. Virgil looked into Anthony’s eyes and swallowed softly at what he saw; those eyes weren’t the eyes of an innocent child like they should be, rather they blazed with passion. It was a fire so great and powerful that Virgil had to look away. Still, the fire blazed in his own soul, renewing his spirit and igniting the anger, the building the bonfire in his bones so that its heat spread through his body.

“His name is Thomas Saderson…and he’s my boss.”

Thomas growled, hand swiping bottles of alcohol off the counter of the bar as he sneered. His lips twisting into a gruesome, angry scowl as the glass crashed to the ground, splitting open and allowing the drinks to pour out like blood on the wooden floor. He slammed his palms into the bar and glanced from the open doors to the back room. They’d tricked him, they had to have done, there was no other explanation. No way Virgil in his current state would have been able to remove the bonds and get out of his office only to get on a horse and ride away… ride away. Thomas let out an agonized howl, vaulting over the bar with wild eyes. He stormed towards the bar’s entrance, face a picture of the rage in his soul.

“I don’t know how you did it, but once I get my hands-on Virgil…I will find out”, Thomas yelled as he stopped a few feet from the door, listening to the whimper that came from the back room. They went against him…Joan went against him, a day or two without food would be fitting punishment for the traitor.

He was out the door in seconds, grabbing and undoing his horse’s reins before pulling himself up and kicking the beast of into action. The sun was setting, blinding him a little as the warm light shone on the grains of sand, the tiny rocks glittering to life like thousands of jewels. The wind blew against his body harshly, whipping as his hair and rubbing the grains of sand into his face. It was hard to concentrate with everything going on around him, but he managed as his eyes narrowed against the light.

The wind picked up in intensity, clouds beginning to form as the dry season ended. Grey clouds ominously rose from the horizon, spreading towards the outlaw as the world around him began to cool. Horse and rider stayed their course as the first of many droplets to come splattered onto the ground, the sand beneath it turning dark with the presence of water. Another and another came, hitting hard and fast. Cold splashes of water hitting his face as he pushed his horse onwards. The beast slowed as the sand dipped under its weight, rocks cascading down the hills as water slickened their journey.

Lightning raced through the clouds above, lighting up the darkening landscape with flashes of white light. Thunder resounded through the valleys and hills of the desert, loud and imposing it rose and descended in waves of sound. Thomas swallowed, barely flinching at the noise that made birds scatter like sand in the wind. The cries of birds grew louder as a flock of crows dove over a hill, seeking shelter and passing Thomas as they fled the noise, wind, water and light.

Thomas pushed on, eyes searching the desert for any landmarks to help guide him homeward. He pulled his horse to a stop as the rain pelted down on him, so heavy it blocked any mountains, hills and rocks in a five-mile radius from his view. He shuddered as the cold liquid drenched his skin and clothes, coat sinking on his shoulders as the leather grew heavy with rain. Thomas slouched in his saddle, eyes wandering, searching for anything, anything he could use to guide him on his way as the anger dissipated into worry. His heart thudded louder in his chest, beating uncontrollably as his breathing grew erratic. He swallowed, breaths coming out in small puffs of air that mingled with the slowly cooling world to form tiny clouds that dissolved into the air in seconds. His horse shivered, head turning to and fro with its owners.

Thomas bit his lip and sunk into the saddle, cursing the rain and weather for rousing the clouds from their slumber so he could no longer use the stars as his guide. With a heavy heart he turned his horse, only to realise he couldn’t navigate back with the rain blocking his view. He was completely lost. Alone apart from his horse in the barren wasteland. Thomas let out a cry as tears sprung forth, biting his lip to muffle any other noise before he pulled out his canteen and opened the lid, holding it up to the sky and listening to tinny clank of rain on metal. Tears were blurring his eyesight, making it all the harder to see his surroundings. He capped his canteen and slid off his horse, taking a seat beside the beast and drinking in the sounds around him with closed eyes. He hated being alone. It was a wonder no one had picked up on it before. He surrounded himself with people he usually controlled the fates of, people he liked, people who were usually loyal to him. These people he could hang on to, keep near him, have around him so he was never alone. But here he was; friendless, alone, and without a snowballs chance in hell of ever getting Logan to fall for him.

It was like his world was crashing down around him leaving nothing but the vastness of the unknown, inky abyss of space. It made him pull his knees up to his chest and sink his face into the tops of them, hiding the sopping wet fabric and letting the tears run as lightning chased through the clouds above, thunder crackling around him as cold and electricity filled the air. The world darkened as the moon shone pitifully into the clouds above, light trapped behind bars of grey fog and rain. No stars lit up the sky, covered by the clouds and sealed off from the crying outlaw below them.

Time drew on, the rain lessening its harsh fall to the earth below as if feeling the pain of the outlaw and taking away some of its sting. Thomas stayed still, hiccupping into his knees as the rain finally subsided into a gentle pitter-patter on his shoulders. The world was still cold, chilling him to the bone but it was less intrusive and unforgiving than it had been hours before. The outlaw boss pulled his knees in tighter, exhaling shakily into the wet fabric and shivering at the warmth of his breath hitting the icy cold tops of his knees.

A sudden warmth blossomed on his back and the man turned to face the rising sun, sheets of light passing through the grey monstrosity above with a heavenly touch. The clouds passed over swiftly, moving away from the drenched outlaw and towards the opposite horizon to which they’d come. Thomas sniffled a little, rubbing his eyes and uncapping his canteen for a drink before standing and brushing the water from his horse’s saddle. He could see where he was now, he could navigate from here to Akers town. He could reach the town, see the Lilac boys and stop Virgil from foiling his plan. Thomas pulled himself onto the saddle, sat upright with a small smile and pushed the beast off. They had an outlaw to find.

Roman groaned quietly and rolled over, adjusting himself as best he could so his hands weren’t pushing into his back and the circulation wasn’t cut off. He blinked and looked around in the dark, trying to figure out where he was and how he’d gotten to wherever here was. Slithering forward in the dark made him wince, splinters of wood sticking into his skin as he rolled over again and breathed heavily. He could hear the wind whipping sand outside wherever he was, but only faintly as if it were far away from him. There was a clatter, a clank, water dropping on metal. The rainy season had started, he assumed, as the smell of rain penetrated the stale air and the world around him cooled considerably.

Roman shivered a little, turning his head to and fro, hoping that the rain and cold would stop soon as the room cooled, his skin prickling and raising as the hairs on his arms drew upwards searching for heat. He whimpered slightly, the cold sinking deep in his bones, tearing through his clothes as the heat would have. He never liked the cold, never liked it when it was so cold his fingers numbed or his body shivered, quaking like piece of scared prey before its predator. It made him sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t do anything about it while he was tied up like this.

New plan then, he thought to himself, craning his neck to the side to look at the smallest hint of light, get out of these ropes and figure out where I am. The plan was full proof, except for the fact he had no idea how to get out of the ropes. He waited for a second, breathing slowly and calming his heart before moving to sit up. It was a workout but he did it, sitting cross-legged on the ground and closing his eyes to listen for anything. There was the scrape of a tree against wood, the tell-tale scratch-scratch of a rat running across a floor, the smell of rain punctuated by the low notes of alcohol, and of course the tap-tap of the rain itself landing on thin metal.

Roman opened his eyes, scanning the room once more and finding movement in the dark. The hunter swallowed and inched across slowly, knees wobbling as they hit the wood floor again, and again, carrying him to his target. The movement stopped as Roman neared, his eyesight growing clearer the more time he spent in the dark until the shape of two humans began to form. Roman almost bolted to the two as the tell-tale shine of Patton’s glasses made his heart thud wildly against his lungs. Was the bartender okay? Why was he here? Was he hurt? Roman growled softly at the thought. If their captor had hurt the man in any way they’d be sorry, Roman would see to that.

The hunter pushed himself closer, eyeing the other figure with curiosity. The figure was slightly shorter than Patton, so it definitely wasn’t Virgil. Roman strained his eyes until the features began to appear, looming at him from the cloak of darkness that surrounded the three. Of course, Joan, how could Roman have been so stupid. And if Joan was here that must mean…had Thomas found them? Were they his hostages? Captives? Prisoners? And if Thomas had found them…did that mean he was here? And if Thomas wasn’t here did that mean…did that mean Logan…

Roman shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts clear and concise like Logan would have. He was a hunter, he had people to protect, people to keep safe. He needed to get out of here and help Logan, but…he was stuck. Stuck in cuffs of rope that burned his, turning the peach to red. Pristine smoothness to rough blisters. He twisted his hand again, biting his lip in pain.

“Stop twisting and turning like that. You’ll only hurt yourself more”, a voice said, full of fatigue and lack of sleep. Joan blinked at the hunter in a tired manner, eyes drooping slightly as they let a yawn pass through their parted lips, wetting them and giving Roman a small frown. The awake bartender slid an arm out from under Patton, ruffling the man’s hair for a second before turning their eyes back to Roman with a more awake expression.

“You’re awake?”, Roman asked, feeling a little guilty as Joan raised an eyebrow to give him a somewhat disbelieving look.

“Yes, I’m awake. You woke me up with all of your loud movements. Seriously, not everyone sleeps like the rest of the world is sixty miles away”, Joan mumbled, stretching a little and casting a glance at the door before returning his eyes to Roman.

“Oh, sorry. I…I didn’t realise how loud I was being, mostly because I thought I was alone in here. But I would have been quieter had I known you and Patton were in here with me… why isn’t Patton awake?”

“He sleeps like you do; deeply and uninhibitedly.”

“Ah…yeah, well…sorry, I woke you up”, Roman murmured, shuffling closer to Joan and turning so his back hit the wall, hands slamming into the wood and making him suck in a breath through his teeth.

“It’s fine. I would’ve woken up later anyway. Did Thomas wake you?”, Joan asked, their head turning to look at the wall opposite them instead of Roman.

Roman shook his head softly, “I haven’t seen or heard him since I woke up. I assume he’s either sleeping, drinking, away or ignoring us.”

“Well he barely drinks, it’s too early for him to be sleeping, he’d never ignore the fact you’re awake, and I haven’t heard him since he helped Patton with his wounds. So, I’d say he’s either upstairs in his office, with Virgil, or on his way to Akers town for Logan.”

Roman groaned, pushing his back into the wall and wincing as his wrists throbbed in protest. He pulled forward and looked at Joan, eyes closed over with their chest pushing and pulling air in peacefully. They were carding their hands through Patton’s hair and… their hands weren’t bound behind their back. They could set Roman free.

“Look, Joan, I know Thomas is your friend and all, but I need you to help me so I can go help Logan”, Roman urged, eyes looking into Joan’s in a pleading way. Joan looked at him, sighed and nodded. Roman smiled, turning around and offering his bound hands to Joan who began to pull at the rope.

“Let’s get one thing straight though; Thomas is not my friend…not anymore at least”, the bartender murmured with a small frown as the ropes drooped, loosened and finally came off. Roman pulled his hands in front of him, rubbing his wrists with a smile before turning around and looking back at Joan with a large grin.

“Good to know. Now give me your hands so I can set you free”, Roman said, taking Joan’s wrists gently and untying the ropes with ease. Joan moved onto Patton while Roman undid his tied ankles and Joan’s tied ankles. They stopped as something clattered in the distance, a horse neighing as lightning and thunder broke through the silence. Someone yelped in the distance and Roman stood up, eyes on the door as footsteps neared it. Joan pulled Patton’s unconscious body close to theirs as both sets of eyes trained on the door. The footsteps neared, moving closer and closer until light burst into the room, the door swinging open to reveal a dark figure. Roman winced back, closing his eyes as he tried to adjust to the light, blinking rapidly as the figure moved forward and… smacked a hand into his shoulder.

“You idiots. I leave you two alone for a day or two and you get captured, imprisoned and somehow drag another person into this. I swear if I weren’t so nice I’d hit the both of you upside your heads”, the figure said, whipping out a lantern to illuminate the room. Roman and Joan blinked, watching as Talyn frowned at them, lowering the lantern a little so they could see better. Water dripped off them onto the floor, small dark patches forming from the excess of water that seemed to follow the smaller bartender in from the outside.

“Talyn…Talyn!”, Joan cried out, standing up and sweeping the smaller into a bear hug.

“Yeah, yeah. Let go of me, we have a hunter to save”, Talyn said, twisting in the taller’s embrace to make them let go. Joan retracted their arms with a sheepish grin, following the shorter out as Roman picked up Patton, opting for a piggy back ride as they ventured out of the small room and into Joan’s bar.

The wind was whipping the doors open, rain pouring in through the open windows and creating puddles under the openings. The harsh wind pushed the water across the floor, spreading the dark to the bar, tables and chairs. Joan raised an arm as the cold whipped at their party, rain flung into their faces and bodies as the wind howled loudly. Thunder crackled ominously outside as the wind howled loudly once more and the bar was plunged into darkness. Talyn scrambled to relight their lamp while Joan made a valiant effort to close the doors, Roman attempting to close some of the windows after depositing Patton to a chair close by.

“This is bad”, Talyn murmured under their breath, while the other two walked around the bar closing windows and blinds to block out the storm.

“Yeah, we can see that”, Joan muttered, growling a little at a particularly stubborn blind that was refusing to close against the newly found rage of the wind outside. Joan closed their eyes as sand was flung into their face; wet, cold and scratchy with no remorse to speak of.

The howling ceased for a moment, long enough for the rain to fall downwards instead of on an angle, and long enough for Joan to finally get the window closed. The three looked around at each other; Joan pushed up against the window, Talyn seated and trying to start the lamp up again, and Roman with his hands firmly pressed against some blinds that had been flapping around wildly not seconds before. Joan breathed a sigh of relief while Talyn’s eyes returned to the lamp, light flickering to life once more.

“There we go”, Talyn murmured, eyes watching as the small flame danced, heat pouring into the bartender’s bones from the small source. Joan swallowed and pushed off the window, Roman following their example and moving towards Talyn as well.

“Tal…look I’m sorry I said that. I just…everything was out of control and I didn’t mean to snap at you like that”, Joan mumbled, taking a seat opposite Talyn while Roman walked to Patton to check the other was okay.

“It’s fine. You were more focused on getting things done and lost yourself in the moment. I’d have done the same if I were you”, Talyn said with a small smile, taking their eyes off the lamp for a second to look at Joan before returning them to the lamp.

“No, you wouldn’t have. I… I’m just a little bit out of it, have been since we found out Lo was part of Thomas plan”, Joan said, placing their head on the table with a sigh. Talyn looked up, sighing under their breath before taking one of Joan’s hands in their own and running the pad of their thumb over the back of Joan’s hand. Joan looked up with a ghost of a smile on their face.

“Speaking of Thomas, where is he? I thought he’d have been here”, Talyn muttered and Joan let a little groan out, head falling back to the table, shame turning their cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“Must be off trying to get to Akers town”, Roman murmured, the rain picking up again and slamming the doors open. The hunter raced over to lock them up, looking back at the duo once the task was completed. “I mean, he’s not here and unless he’s out with Virgil my guess is he went back to Akers town to court Logan…again.”

“Well that bites”, Talyn said, eyeing the flame as they let go of Joan’s hand and stood. The smaller bartender walked over to the bar and around it, bending down to gather items from below the bar. They appeared a couple of seconds later, dropping some jackets and hats onto the bar before disappearing once more. Joan and Roman walked over, leaning over the bar to look at the small bartender as they moved about underneath the bar, searching through crates and bottles until they found what they were looking for.

“What…what are you doing?”, Joan asked, staring down at Talyn’s hunched back as they shuffled items about under the bar. Talyn looked up before looking back down again, grabbing something with a smile and hopping up to take a straightened stance behind the bar.

“Getting supplies”, the shorter replied casually, unwrapping one of the coats to reveal a small stash of ammunition, daggers and pistols. The two stared down with wide eyes with Talyn merely smirked at the small pile of weaponry.

“Where did you…I never”, Joan looked at a loss for words, staring at the high piled weapons.

“Correct, you never. I did however. Every time I visited I left another item, now you have a chance to use them. I thought it’d be good to have a stockpile just in case you got yourself in trouble”, Talyn said with a wide smile.

“You are amazing”, Roman muttered, grabbing a high-grade pistol and looking it over with a smile of his own. Joan blinked a couple of times before elbowing Roman as Talyn looked down under the bar again. “What?”

Joan glared at the man and Roman put his hands up with a shocked expression. The bartender nodded slightly before looking back at Talyn who now appeared with a small bag.

“What’s in there, Tal?”, Joan asked as they reached for a dagger from the pile.

“Canteens, dry food, rations and the like”, Talyn murmured, opening the bag with a small smile and taking out the canteens. They produced five canteens; large, cylindrical, silver things made with thin metal with black caps. “Help me fill these up and let’s go.”

Roman and Joan nodded, taking two canteens each and moving to the back of the bar. Rain was still pouring outside, the arid desert turning into a somewhat soggy sandbox. The small pump at the back of the bar glistened as the stormwater wet the metal, cooling the blistering heat and turning the usually hot metal cold. Joan looked at Roman as the pair held the canteens close under the shelter of the extended roof. There was a huff of annoyance before both were shoved out of the way by the smaller barkeep, who walked out into the rain and set to work filling the canteen. The two watched from the safety of the shelter as Talyn pulled the collar of their coat up to shield them from the rain, shivering when drops of water cascaded down the leather and onto their back. Talyn capped the canteen and looked back at the two who merely looked at them with bewildered looks. The shorter sighed, grumbling under their breath before walking to the two and snatching the other four canteens from them, depositing them at the pump for filling.

It took them a little while but soon the metal containers were full of water and the shorter was heading back in the rain towards the hunter and barkeep, who still stood motionless as the shorter came up to them. Talyn thrust the canteens into their chests and – with a growl – stomped back inside, their hair dripping wet. Their footsteps left dark patches of water on the wood and they pulled off their jacket, wringing it out as the two conscious water bearers came back inside, not nearly as wet or dripping.

“Thanks for the help”, Talyn mumbled under their breath as they flung their coat back on and grabbed the supplies, “get up.”

The shorter bartender smacked Patton’s shoulder, startling the man into consciousness as the Talyn moved off towards the front doors. Patton blinked, looking around blearily and rubbing his eyes before his gaze settled on Talyn, standing in the doorway with the rations and weapons. Lightning flashed wickedly through the sky, illuminating their turned back and causing the rest to cast their eyes aside. Talyn stomped off into the rain and wind, grabbing their horse and attaching the bag to his back, the weapons tied up in their bundle and pushed into the bag with the food.

“What’s going on?”, Patton asked, looking back at Joan and Roman who stood still and unmoving, watching the barkeep turn their horse in Akers direction. Patton glanced back at Talyn and stood, stretching before grabbing his coat and hat from the pile. He smirked a little before taking a few steps to Roman and Joan, grabbing two of the canteens before venturing outside with a shout to Talyn. Talyn nodded their happiness, smiling at Patton before Patton grabbed a more awake Cameron and hopped aboard the horse. Joan and Roman blinked before racing outside, canteens clasped to their chests.

“Wait”, the bartender called out and the two stopped their horses from traveling farther as Roman shoved the canteens to Joan who ran to their horse, while Roman retrieved their gear from inside the bar. Joan saddled up their horse with the canteens as Roman returned, hopping up behind the bartender as the two sped off atop Joan’s horse. Patton stifled a giggle while Talyn shook their head with an exasperated sigh. The group congregated atop the first hill and smiled at each other, before allowing their horses to bolt down the slope. Roman smirked as he tightened his grip around Joan; today, tonight, whatever the time was, they were out. They were out to help their friend.

Acknowledgments/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx (@lowkeysalient) and @sea-blue-child

Asks, messages, and notes. Last chance guys, next chapter is the last one so you have an hour to get in on the acknowledgments/thank you to’s. Enjoy though

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #analogical #royality

4 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Note

I can't read the new CHAPTER YET I'M AT WORK THIS IS TORTURE

My child, chill. You can binge the three I’m putting up today when you get home. Enjoy work :)

2 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Chapter 14: Fixing Wounds

A/N: Okay so there’s a bit of blood... that’s an understatement but I’m just warning you now just in case.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (not yet implemented)

Word Count: 5100+

Patton awoke to a splitting headache, sore everything and a need to stretch. Upon realizing he could not stretch, however, he opted for opening his eyes to the blurry world of not having his glasses on. Everything swam in inky black, punctuated with small bits of dull brown and a shining silver. Patton rolled over, eyes scanning for anything that was completely in focus as he blinked and tried to regain full consciousness. After a few minutes and a lot of shifting the bartender concluded that both his wrists and ankles were tied together tightly, though not enough to cut off circulation which he was sincerely thankful for.

The bartender wiggled around a bit more, squinting into the dark as he tried to figure out where on earth he was and how he got to wherever here was. It took a while for him to find the wall, crawling his way around the dark room as the wood floor hindered any progress he tried to make. His head had hit the wooden wall first and he’d quickly pulled away not knowing what he’d found. After feeling around, he realized it was indeed a wall, solid and high, and with a little more wiggling he was able to position himself against it. He heaved a sigh, pushing out and breathing in gulps of air as he tried to remain still.

The sound of soft snoring and the murmur he recognized so well penetrated the loud pumping sound his heart was making. Now Patton was sure he wasn’t alone in this room. He’d never be able to mistake Roman’s sleepy murmurings for anything and the thought that the man was here with him made him smile fondly. If they got out of here he’d apologize. Apologise for the argument, for being angry, for comparing the hunter to Thomas.

Patton sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest as close as he could, shifting around as his hands rubbed against the wall. The wood was rougher than the floor, proving it to not be as well-worn as the floorboards, yet it was smoothed in the way that the aging of the wood and time would naturally allow. Patton closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, sniffing the air for anything; dust, dirt, water, alcohol… alcohol. He opened his eyes and let a small smirk fall onto his lips, he’d know that musky, tangy, sweet yet sour and bitter scent of alcoholic beverages anywhere. He’d been around it long enough for it to almost before one with him – combining with the lavender and overpowering it. He was never able to fully scrub it out, the scent lingering on his skin and in his brown locks for days after a bath and without once visiting his bar. He wondered if he’d become numb to the scent that clung to him like a small child to its parents. More than once one of his customers or friends had complained, politely stating that he smelled too strongly of what he sold and that he should consider bathing more often. A rude acknowledgment, but one he took as a compliment to his business and ability to sell – though later that day he’d more than likely wander about the general store to find another brand of soap that smelt stronger than what he had bought not two weeks prior.

Light flooded a section of his view, the bright orange flickering of a candle accompanied by the light of the sun. The figure in the doorway was blurry, but Patton had figured out it was Thomas by the way he had composed himself. Standing tall against the flood of sunlight, holding his candle out to illuminate the rest of the room. Patton squeezed his eyes shut, the bright lights hurting his eyes that had gotten used to the darkness of the room. Something warm neared his face and Patton opened his eyes a little, peeking through his eyelashes to look at the man in front of him. Thomas looked at him, almost directly in the eye, but he blinked and his eyes swept around the room while Patton took in a shallow breath, holding it before letting it slide out softly. He breathed softly, trying to mimic Roman’s soft breathing, hoping Thomas would assume he was asleep. Eventually, the candle’s light moved away from him, the soft creaking of rotted wood following the diminishing light source.

“Here they are… I… I’m sorry you got mixed up in all of this”, Thomas muttered a little way away and Patton looked towards him, noticing the blurry figure was standing near Roman, holding something in his right hand with the candle dripping wax into the metal dish he held in his left. He could smell the burn of the wick, the waxy scent that mixed with the molded, rotting wood and the distinct tang of alcohol.

Patton bit his lip, closing his eyes as he heard the floorboards creak, moving closer to him until the candle’s heat was upon him once more. It flickered once, twice before leaving, the sound of metal being set on wood and the feel of heat near his leg indicated that Thomas had set the candle down. He almost jumped then as something cold and metal was placed gently on his face. Frames and glass as cold as ice chilled his flushed skin as he pretended to sleep. Thomas’ breath lingered on his cheeks as the outlaw boss adjusted his glasses slightly, pulling back and picking the candle up once more. A single hand racked gently through Patton’s sot locks before the man stood and began to walk away. The footsteps halted at the door, a sigh escaping Thomas before he shut the door behind him, taking the light and heat with him.

Patton almost crumbled in relief, eyes opening and slowly adjusting as his glasses began to rein in the blurriness of the room around him. His eyes moved from left to right, checking around the room until his eyes landed on the figure he knew so well from nights spent at his bar. Roman’s chest heaved softly, as if there were no danger around and knowing him the man was most likely in that state of mind – unaware of the danger that he and Patton were facing. As Patton’s eyes adjusted to the darkness around him he noticed the barrels lining the walls their metal hoops and rivets shining dully in the dark. He took in the dark – yet readable – insignias and titles printed on the side of a few barrels. Most of the barrels in here were for things he didn’t stock as there was no way to get it without paying a hefty price for delivery. So, it made sense that he and Roman were in either Joan’s or Talyn’s bar. Talyn had disagreed with Thomas’ plans and Joan… Joan had been with them.

Patton’s head spun to look around, finding another sleeping figure in the dark this one being propped against a wall of their own. Joan was sleeping rather peacefully and Patton wondered if he could wake the other bartender with a well-positioned kick or by crawling over to them. Patton thought for a little before settling on just waiting, it was only a matter of time before Joan awoke and then the two could plan their escape from Thomas’ clutches.

It wasn’t until he’d settled into a comfortable position that he remembered why they had been taken in the first place. Logan was in danger and they were running low on time. Crawling it was. Patton pushed off the wall, letting his glasses fall askew on his face as he pushed himself towards the unconscious body in front of him. He bit his lip as splinters began to drive into his skin, biting into him with a vengeance until he stopped and turned onto his back, breathing heavily and digging the soles of his boots into the floor. He pushed himself backwards a few times, ramming his head into Joan’s boot and letting out a small cry of pain that had the bartender awake in seconds.

“What the… who?”, Joan began, looking down at their feet and finding Patton’s eyes. The man gave him a small grin and pushed himself around Joan, trying his best to find his lost footing as he moved from Joan’s feet to the wall the bartender was slumped against.

“Glad you’re alright”, Patton whispered and Joan gave the man a once over, tutting softly and leaning over a bit to look at the splinter wounds.

“You should have been more careful, but… I’m glad you weren’t”, Joan murmured looking around at the floor for any kind of tweezing object they could use to take the darn wood pieces out. They found nothing and pushed back into the wall disheartened by the lack of caring equipment. Then an idea struck them, smiling softly at the thought. “Pat, I… I’m not feeling well right now. I’d like to sleep if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh… oh, yes, right”, Patton mumbled, saddened by the news but electing to take it in stride as he always did.

“Maybe you should get some sleep too. I’m sure Thomas won’t hurt us, we’re too important to Logan for him to harm”, Joan reasoned, internally slumping with relief as Patton curled up beside them, eyelids dancing shut and open in a rapid succession. Joan pet the soft hair of their fellow bartender before sighing softly, letting their head fall back into the wall as Patton’s heartbeat decelerated and his breathing softened. Joan shook their head before swallowing. “Thomas!”

The outlaw hunter pushed the door open softly, eyeing Joan and Patton as the awake bartender eyed him, “yes?”

“I’ll help you properly, but first I need tweezers”, Joan explained softly. Thomas walked over and crouched down next to them, running a hand through his hair and looking over Patton’s limp body.

“Who got hurt and where are the wounds?”, Thomas asked as he stood and proceeded to walk out of the room, door open behind him.

“Patton and all over his front. Splinters from the floor”, Joan said and Thomas sighed from the counter of the bar, returning with a light source and a pair of tweezers.

“I’ll do it, I’ve always been a little better at it than you. You just look him over and tell me where they are so I can ease them out without him waking up”, Thomas muttered and Joan nodded, slowly running a hand over Patton’s right arm and wincing a little as Patton shifted, face contorting into a frown.

“Wrist, right arm. Outer elbow, right arm”, Joan murmured softly as Thomas moved around the two and took Patton’s arm into his lap gently, beginning the process of extricating the tiny pieces of wood from the man in need. “Upper shoulder, right arm. Collar bone, right arm… how’d he even get that up there?”, Joan ran a hand over Patton’s other arm, calling out places and points before moving to his palms and finally face. It took them nearly an hour but it was well worth the time and while Joan didn’t feel as if Thomas deserved it, they thanked him. Thomas merely smiled softly at the action and stood, taking the tweezers and placing them by Joan on the platter of half eaten food.

“In case you need them again”, Thomas muttered casting a cursory glance in Roman’s direction before nodding his head once at Joan and leaving through the door. Joan sighed softly, sinking back as the tension they didn’t realize they had been housing finally escaped them. Relaxation and sleep slipped like snakes into their veins, slithering through their blood and into their mind. Sleep came just as a door slammed in the distance, Thomas’ swears polluting the air outside the bar.

Virgil growled lowly as he heard Thomas moving around downstairs. He had been pulling at his ropes for a good hour or so now and he wasn’t much closer to finding a way out of this situation. With some determination coming about after his crying and wallowing, Virgil was now standing, leaning against the wall somewhat as he feared moving away from it would cause him to fall and thus alert Thomas of his somewhat freedom. He was careful, taking small jumps with his hands holding the wall as he inched closer and closer to the desk. He had a plan. The ropes were just that ropes and he was already hurt as it was so a little burn here or there wouldn’t be too bad. Thomas had taken a match from his desk, it made sense that he kept a matchbook in his desk and if so Virgil could then strike one up and burn the ropes off. A little burn never hurt anyone, right?

Virgil inched closer and closer to the desk until he was a foot or so from the wooden behemoth. He narrowed his eyes at the desk and looked down at his feet, plotting his next course of action; jump, jump, turn, grab the desk and find the drawer. Simple enough, but the execution would be the difficult part. Virgil took his first jump away from the wall and felt pain blossom through his abdomen as his stomach made contact with the side of the desk. He almost bent double, but realised he wouldn’t be able to get back up if he did and kept his ground. He breathed through the pain – in through the nose, out through the mouth – counting from ten to one before turning his body around and leaning against the desk. He shuffled around, gripping the edge for support as he tripped a few times, the pain growing with every jump-step he made.

The drawers of the desk were lined out perfectly in a faded, dulled, iron-like metal. Inscriptions carved into tiny plaques at the front of each while thin strips of metal curved and turned, forming leaves and plant-like vines that twisted around the edges of each drawer front. The handles were not nearly as ornate; the same iron-like metal curved around in a near semi-circle, connected with two tiny screws at either end. Each drawer was roughly three inches deep, six inches wide and thirteen inches long. Such a desk seemed more fitted to a nobleman or a writer, not an outlaw or a criminal. It seemed too fine to be a part of the room no matter the intricate brassy-brown of the lamps or the large bookshelf the adorned one wall.

He reached the first drawer and pulled, tugging it out and moving to the side to look inside, he almost screamed when he found nothing. There were two more drawers on the desk and he dearly hoped the third didn’t contain the matches. He shoved the first back in slowly, shimmying to bend a little and reach the second. He tugged, then tugged again, finding it stuck in place. He tugged more forcefully and felt it loosen. Not wanting to tug too hard and find himself sprawled on the floor on his face he took care to tug gently until the drawer slid out a little. Virgil could have cried tears of joy when a small book of matches could be seen at the bottom. It took a little to navigate, but he was able to retrieve the matches quite easily after the first several goes. He opened the small cardboard folder behind his back and fiddled around until he was certain he had a match. He dropped the rest onto the desk and struck the match against the desk, whimpering softly as the heat not only burned his skin, but also the ropes.

They didn’t come off easily, stubborn and strong with thick, corded fibers that refused to catch alight let alone burn but he somehow made it work until he reached for another match to find the matchbook empty. He resigned himself to rubbing the ropes off on the desk’s corner; not his favorite or best plan, but one he was sure would indeed work. It was more than half an hour later – with multiple blisters forming on the skin of his wrists – that he was able to say he was half free. He felt through the rest of Thomas’ clumsy tying, ropes releasing his sore ankles in a matter of seconds. He stood, hand gripping the desk as he ground his teeth and bit into his lip, blood welling with how hard he was biting.

He could hear the footsteps of his employer turned captor downstairs, moving quickly as the sound of cupboards opening and closing fell on his heartbeat filled ears. The drumming dimmed, slowed and finally ceased as his breathing stabilized. He heard a door open, then more rifling through cupboards. Virgil pulled a hand to his wound, gingerly rubbing the skin around the red soaked bandage as he thought up his next move. He determined Thomas was moving from the counter to the back room; for what reason, he hadn’t figured out yet, but he didn’t need to know. Thomas footsteps stopped in the back room, knowing his criminal past Virgil wouldn’t put it past him to be stealing Joan’s alcohol, drowning himself in the finest and strongest of liquors. He’d still have to move quickly and quietly if he wanted to get out.

Virgil shifted, testing the floorboards and wincing as they creaked under his weight. He trod as lightly as he could, making sure to step on the least likely to creak pieces of wood as he hobbled towards the door. The outlaw opened the door slowly, looking out and down the stairs to see if Thomas was outside. Virgil found no one stationed at the bar, the door also lying unguarded at the end of the room, could it really be this easy? Virgil took a seat at the top of the stairs, listening for anything; footsteps, voices, pained cries. Nothing presented itself so he waited for a while. His eyes wandered the bar, landing on the ajar door of the backroom where he heard a creak of floorboards, no doubt Thomas was in there. He waited a few more minutes before deciding it was all clear.

He had always been cautious and now hopefully it would pay off, as he descended the stairs, treading quietly and quickly. He swallowed, heart pounding in his ears as he finally reached the bottom of the stairs and took to the bar, grabbing it and walking out the rest of the room with it. He heard shuffling from the back room, but his eyes were more drawn to his coat and hat, perched atop the bar in a neat pile with his firearms discarded next to them. He grabbed all of his belongings and sneered as his wound flared up again, making his growl under his breath. A creak from the back room made his head and eyes dart to the door before he realized that his time in here was up. He grabbed his hat and put it on, gripping the front and back and tugging it down a little before turning to the entrance of the bar. He hoped Thomas brought Di back here with him.

Virgil pushed the doors open and smiled warmly at the black mare, tied up to railing and looking at him expectantly. The outlaw eyed the other horses; Thomas own along with a healthier looking Cameron and of course Joan’s horse. He tipped his hat at the others and walked towards Di, swinging himself up onto her saddle after untying her. He heard Thomas walking out of the back room, stop then run towards the front door as Di reared and turned towards Akers town.

“Virgil! Get back here”, Thomas yelled, but the darkly clothed outlaw merely smirked, narrowed his eyes and fixed his gaze on the horizon line. He had a job to do and he was going to do it.

Anthony looked up at the red-faced man in front of him, right arm resting on the door frame as he breathed heavily. The man’s brown eyes danced with both confusion and questioning before he walked past the boy and into the house, his coat trailing in dirt and dust after him. The man removed his hat, hair sticking to his face, slick and wet with sweat from the heat and exhaustion.

“Where’s Logan?”, the man asked, voice gruff and low as Anthony stared at him. The black-haired boy moved closer to the man, closing the door as he went.

“Who is it Ant?”, Logan called and the man’s eyes darted from Anthony to end of the hallway, nose sniffing the air a little. Anthony could see his Adam’s apple bob slightly in his throat, eyes narrowing at the parts of the kitchen that were visible from the door. The man dropped his hat onto the coat rack along with discarding his coat and hanging it over his arm. He straightened and Anthony could see him internally crumbling as Logan’s head rounded the kitchen doorway, concern and worry evident on his brother’s face. Logan stopped, looking the man up and down before kneeling down a little on the ground. “Anthony, come here. Now”, the elder commanded and Anthony raced to his brother’s side.

“What’s wrong?”, Anthony whispered softly as Logan stood and grabbed his hand.

“What do you want? Why are you here, outlaw?”, Logan asked slowly, obviously cautious of the man before them. Anthony looked from the outlaw to his brother and back, wondering what on earth could cause his brother to be so cold and unhostile to a supposed outlaw, had it been a normal encounter the man would have been dead by now.

“Logan… I came here to warn you”, the outlaw said, tipping a little and grabbing the wall for support, breathing through his mouth and hissing a little as bloody, red patches began to flower under his shirt, blooming like roses from his torso. The outlaw opened his mouth again but hissed and fell into the wall sinking to the floor like a stone with one hand clasping his side.

“Oh, no. Anthony, I need you to get me some bandages, towels, water and the little sewing kit father kept in his room. I’ll take Virgil to the living room to patch him up”, Logan murmured and Anthony paused in the hallway, mid racing to the bathroom for towels and the bucket for water.

“We’re helping Virgil Hunterson?”, Anthony asked, eyes wide as he looked at his brother, who had bent to grab Virgil’s arm and sling it around his shoulders. Logan’s head swiveled to his younger brother, looking back at the boy with a firm stare.

“We’re helping Virgil Hunterson”, Logan confirmed and Anthony stared at his brother while the elder pulled Virgil up, moving him as quickly and carefully as he could to the couch. Anthony shook his head before scurrying off to fetch the required items.

“L… Logan”, Virgil breathed out, eyes squeezed shut in pain while Logan began to open up his shirt and survey the damage.

“Hush now. Let me see your wound”, Logan murmured as the shirt fell away and the reddened bandage was fully displayed. Logan sighed softly at the sight of the bandaged torso. “And a knife too! I need to get this bandage off”, Logan called out, hearing Anthony call back that he’d grab one as Logan began trying to pry the bandage away from the skin. “How’d you even get this? Why’d you come here?”, he murmured quietly, starting when a calloused hand fell atop his own. The hand was a little shaky, gently thumbing the top of Logan’s. The hunter looked up, eyes meeting Virgil’s as the man breathed quietly.

Anthony entered the room and placed the bucket next to his brother, tapping his shoulder softly and handing him the towel and knife. Logan murmured a soft ‘thank you’, before setting about cutting the bandage, Virgil’s hand laying forgotten as the outlaw stilled under the care of the hunter. The elder Lilac pulled the bandage away to look at the wound; raw, red and caked with dried blood. New blood had begun to flow, streaming down the outlaw’s torso in thin rivulets, collecting on the messy cut bandages. It soaked through, staining the white couch below with the ugly red that would eventually turn an even uglier brown from the oxidization.

Logan dipped the towel into the bucket, wiping it gently over the wound, scraping the blood away as much as he could. Virgil tensed every now and again as the towel tore off layer after layer of dried blood until the wound was clean and both the towel and water stained red.

“Anthony, could you get me some more water and another towel please?”, Logan asked as he took the sewing needle and began to pull through some of the cotton thread. Not the best thing for stitching up the wound, but it’d do until they could get the outlaw to a proper medical facility and have him sew up good and proper. Anthony moved off to get the towel while Logan grabbed a cushion, pushing it into the outlaw’s lips. “Bite down on this. It will most certainly hurt and I cannot have people hearing screams of pain coming from my home. They will investigate, knowing them, and you will be found. So, please, bite down on this and muffle your cries as much as possible.”

Virgil nodded softly, opening his mouth as the corner of the pillow was gently pushed into his mouth. The outlaw swallowed, tasting the fabric and frowning at the lavender-like taste. Anthony returned moments later, towel and bucket in hand which Logan thanked him for. The younger took a seat on the chair closest to the pair, eyes glued to the scene as his brother took the old towel and dipped it in the water, cleaning the wound some more before swallowing and touching the needle’s tip to the outlaw’s skin. The room was silent for a second before Logan pushed forward, the needle entering the skin and a muffled cry of pain coming from the outlaw.

Anthony cringed back, hiding his head in his hands and closing his eyes as the sounds continued. He didn’t like this. He didn’t want to see this. He waited until the cries became whimpers, then looked up to see his brother tying off the end of the thread, cleaning the blood and cooing softly to the man in his care. Virgil was sweating, pain etched in his face and eyes squeezed closed. His body was tense, wound tight like a coil of wire waiting to be set free.

“Is he going to be okay?”, Anthony asked, when Virgil finally slumped into the couch, devoid of the tension and wound up stress he had once carried. Logan looked back at his brother from his place on the floor, adjusting his glasses a little before giving Anthony a small smile.

“He’ll be fine. We need to get him to a doctor though. Definitely as soon as he can ride. I can only do so much for him here and someone who actually practices medicine would be most beneficial in this situation”, Logan said setting the bloodied towel down and reaching for the clean, dry one. The elder dipped it into the bucket, wrung it out and folded it neatly before placing it on Virgil’s forehead. “I may require one more towel”, Logan said, standing and walking towards the door.

“Stay with him. I’ll get it”, Anthony said, watching as the outlaw’s eyes opened a little, sticking to his brother’s back with a sort of child-like want. Anthony could tell the man needed his brother, what for he didn’t know, but it was clear that he needed Logan.

“Okay, any size will do. I just need it to be able to go over this wound until I can get around to cleaning the other towel”, Logan murmured, walking back over to Virgil and taking a seat at his side, kneeling and placing a hand over the man’s chest.

“Okay. I’ll be right back”, Anthony said as he walked out of the living room and towards the bathroom. Logan traced a pattern on the heated skin, lazily following his hand’s movements with his eyes until Virgil’s hand took his and laid it flat against the outlaw’s chest. Neither spoke, both feeling Virgil’s chest rise and fall with his intake of breath, hearts pounding in sync with each other as the world silenced itself for them.

“Logan… I need to tell you something”, Virgil wheezed out and Logan looked up, head rising from the palm he had supporting it, elbow resting against the couch. Virgil’s breathing grew unstable and Logan ran a hand soothingly over his brow, hair, and forehead. Removing and rewetting the cloth before replacing it. Logan took Virgil’s hand in his own wincing a little when Virgil hissed in pain. Logan looked down at Virgil’s wrist finding raw red marks on his skin along with blisters.

“What happened?”, Logan asked softly, picking up the discarded red towed and dipping it into the water before running the water over the burns gently. Virgil let out a small, muffled cry of pain and Logan pulled back a little, studying the outlaw’s face until Virgil’s expression smoothed into one of relaxation. “I’m sorry, but I have to take care of these”, Logan apologized as he began to clean the wounds, Virgil grabbing the pillow and stuffing it in his mouth once more to stop the cries. Anthony came back to see his brother carefully rubbing and cleaning the blisters and raw, red skin. The younger dropped the clean towel onto Virgil’s legs and took his seat in the chair once more.

“L… Logan, please… I need… I need”, Virgil stopped, taking a breath. Logan looked up, tapping his right index softly against Virgil’s lips.

“Stop talking. When you’re better you can tell me what you want to tell me. Until then I request you conserve your energy by remaining silent”, Logan said softly, smiling sadly at the outlaw before resuming his work on the outlaw’s body. Virgil groaned but otherwise didn’t say a word.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the room with the dying light of another day. The moon peaked out from behind the houses, drenching the town in white light as the stars twinkled. Logan listened to Virgil’s steady breathing, resting his head in his palm and letting his eyes drift closed. Sleep overtook him quite easily as it had done with his younger brother and the outlaw on his couch. His head slipped off his palm, body moving to make itself comfortable while his mind was full of thoughts of sleep, not realizing his head now lay pillowed on Virgil’s chest, hands gently clasped in the outlaw’s own under his head.

Acknowledgments/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx (@lowkeysalient ) and @sea-blue-child

Message, ask or add to the notes if you would like to be added to Acknowledgments

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #analogical #royality

4 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Chapter 13: The Unlucky Ones

A/N: So last one for today and only one warning: swearing. Yeah, that’s about it

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (not yet implemented)

Word Count: 5200+

Virgil had never really acknowledged how unlucky he was until he awoke being carried on the back of a horse with his wrists and ankles tied together. It was the single most uncomfortable thing the outlaw had ever experienced and what made matters worse was the fact that by judging the position of the sun and his surroundings he deduced that whoever was carrying him was carrying him away from Akers town. Virgil shimmed a little, trying to figure out how secured he was on the horse’s back. He figured out that he was merely perched on the horse’s rear, nothing holding him to the horse but gravity and his once placid, unconscious body. At this point in time Virgil tried to think up a plan, but due to his overall exhaustion, the sun’s blindingly hot rays, and the fact he was still bleeding from the wound he had incurred, he found himself slowly falling prey to the abyss of unconsciousness. His last thought until he finally slipped was that nothing he encountered ever again could be worse than what he was feeling right now.

The outlaw awoke to darkness. Virgil gnawed his lip lightly as he tried to figure out why he could no longer feel the sun’s heat and the horse’s bony body. With a swimming mind and tired eyes, the outlaw looked around, finding himself upright and perched against a wall. With a sigh, Virgil tipped his head back into the wall, closing his eyes as the world swam. Colours seemed to fade into one another, black dots dancing across his vision as a heat pooled in his veins. He was uncomfortable, but certainly not half as tired as he had been previous. The outlaw slowly opened his eyes again, blinking slowly as the world came more into focus as his body froze up. He felt sick before, but the sickening feeling he felt now was almost doubled as he recognized where he was – Thomas’ office. They were all the way out at Joan’s bar and what was worse, Virgil was the only one in the room, slumped against one of the walls with his wound rebadged and seen to.

“Well, well, well. Seems my little black sheep is finally awake enough to explain himself”, a voice taunted and Virgil’s head whipped to the desk where his employer sat, cold calculating eyes roaming the employee only a few feet from him. Virgil felt nausea build as the quick motion made his head spin, Thomas’ grin only making him feel sicker.

“I don’t… have to explain… shit to you”, Virgil breathed out, dropping his head to his chest before pushing it into the wall as he tried to breathe through the queasy feelings he was receiving. Thomas chuckled softly, voice reverberating around the office space as he pulled open a drawer at his desk. Virgil winced as his employer struck a match against the desk, a single orange flame flickering to life, casting a warm glow on his fingertips.

“No wonder I picked you. Defiant and stubborn as hell”, Thomas muttered as the outlaw closed his eyes, trying to shut out the light of the match. Virgil heard a creak then footsteps trampling across the hard-wood floor towards him. The glow danced in front of his closed eye lids while the warmth trickled off both the match head and Thomas. Virgil pushed himself back into the wall as much as he could.

“Get away from me”, the employee growled lowly, swallowing as the heat of the match and the glowing grew, closing in on his face.

“You have no power here, Virgil. No one has any power here. All your little friends are locked up, and no one is going to stop me from getting what I want”, Thomas whispered, voice so thick and full of delight that Virgil could practically feel the smugness radiating off him. His employer’s breath was hot, the match’s flame twitching and dancing about with the sudden air being blown past it. Virgil opened his eyes a little, glaring at his former employer as the man’s smirk grew a tad, eyes darkening with ill intent.

“Where are they?”, Virgil asked, feeling stupid for asking such a question, but hoping to anyone above that Thomas had not hurt the people he’d grown to know over the past few months. Thomas’ eyes crinkled at the edges with joy, smug delight and acidic happiness pouring from every crevice of his being like a waterfall of disgusting, putrid malice filled glee. It seemed to drip off him, pouring forth into the candle which seemed to dim to match the mood of the situation Virgil was in. It sputtered once or twice, Thomas’ fingers readjusting themselves so he wouldn’t burn them.

“Nowhere you’d be able to get to in a hurry, that’s for sure”, Thomas murmured as his smirk turned to a grin, Cheshire like with almost pointed teeth in the light of the match. It was an eerie sight and one the outlaw would not soon forget or wish to remember.

“Are they safe?”, Virgil breathed out feeling as if the air in the room was suddenly stale and suffocating. His breath caught in his throat, constricting him, cutting off his breathing with a stale, dusty taste. The staleness lined his throat, willing him to drink water as the urge to cough and sputter fought the urge to remain strong in his captor’s eyes.

“As safe as one can be tied up in the dark with no food, water or basic necessities”, Thomas replied, eyebrows tilting down and grin souring. Virgil almost shivered at the unnerving display of happiness from the obvious pain the man was inflicting upon the three others Virgil had been traveling with.

“Leave them out of this. They had no part in this scheme of yours”, Virgil growled, trying to act as if the light of the match mixed with his employer’s dark office and darker expression didn’t scare him as much as it did. The outlaw pushed forward a little, feeling at the binding ropes around his wrists and ankles.

“Oh, but they do. They helped you and they know of my plans, no? They are part of this now, whether you intended them to be or not”, Thomas said, a smirk dancing on his lips as he eyed the slowly lightening sky beyond the window of his office. The match burned low, but bright enough that he was still illuminated. Stars were vanishing, but should the match extinguish, Thomas knew the office would be throw into complete darkness.

“I didn’t mean for them to follow me. Let them leave, they’ll do you no harm, I swear”, Virgil pursued softly, eyes darting from the match to his employer who merely smiled a little at the attempt to persuade him into changing his mind.

“I assure you, Virgil. No harm shall befall them, Joan is my friend after all and I would not risk losing them. The other two I do not care for, but Lilac cares for them and them him. I need them here away from him until my plans succeed. After that they will be free to try and change his mind to their hearts content, but I can assure you”, Thomas paused, moving a little closer to Virgil, the match nearly at the end of its wooden stick, “they will not undo what will be done. I always get my way and once Logan is mine, there will be no changing his mind.” Virgil shivered a little at the cold words, their icy daggers digging into his heart ferociously. Thomas smirked at his employee seemed to finally realize the weight of his situation, determination and will crashing to the ground and burning like Crow Ridge. It was like a gigantic theatre production, illustrated by his employee just for him. If Saderson was being honest it was a little heart-warming. If he had a heart that was. The thought made him chuckle a little before he looked at the match, smirked and plunged the room into darkness with a pinch of his fingers. His flesh burned momentarily, but it was gone as he wiped his fingers on his pants and stood, moving towards the door and opening it.

Virgil looked up, but his head dropped as the light from the bar illuminated his tired, wounded body. Thomas laughed softly, almost fondly, before exiting the room, taking the light with him along with Virgil’s hopes of ever getting out of Joan’s bar before the wedding. Water brimmed in his eyes as the outlaw leant forward a little, muffling his pained sobs in his knees. He didn’t even know why he was crying or who he was crying for. Was he crying for the others, captured by his employer and trapped here with him. Was he crying for the people of Akers town who would no doubt wither into decline under Thomas’ rule. Perhaps he was crying for himself, knowing he would most likely die here in Thomas’ office. Or maybe… maybe he was crying for the Lilacs, who would suffer the most of those to be affected by Thomas’ plan.

Who he was crying for, he didn’t know, but he did know he was hurt; physically and emotionally. It was like knives stabbing at his heart, pins running their pointed ends over the muscle, hands ripping it to shreds before bunching it up and pulling it until it tore again and again. The pain made him cry more than before, the two separate sources mixing together. Stones scratching at his bullet wound while his heart seared with a fiery heat, rather like to separate attacks that culminated in an indescribably sickening pain. Virgil gasped out a tearful cry, breath catching in his throat as he forced his head back into the wall, trying to drown the pain out. His breath continued to catch over and over until he finally made a choking sound that forced him to breathe normally. He felt the pain of his body hitting the floor before he recognized that he was now laying against the wood planks. He cried out, not from the pain of wood meeting his shoulder and wound, but from the pain that his heart and head supplied.

Voices whispered nasty things in his ears, forcing him to listen as they tore at his mind and pride. His walls broke down, collapsing and cracking like glass instead of bricks or stone. Shards of his broken walls dug deeper and deeper into his mind and heart while his tears made tracks of shining silver on his red cheeks, flushed from the cries that now drove his throat horse. He scraped his nails along his arms, cheeks, legs, whatever portion of his body he could reach because he’d rather be feeling physical pain right now, than any other pain that whipped his soul to shreds.

Fortune never seemed to smile upon Joan. First, they owned a bar for outlaws that got raided more than five times in a single month. And when Joan finally found a friend to confide in, Talyn – slightly shorter than they were but just as jovial – they found something rotten to counteract this sweet victory; outlaw hunters had decided to check out bars and raided theirs. Then they had found out Thomas’ plans to destroy their home town, and in return, fate had finally gifted then a small saving grace in the form of finding Roman. Finally, they had thought that nothing could go wrong; they were hungover, sore, tired and sweaty, but they were on their way to Logan’s rescue – surely that was enough of a balance, but no fate had to be so cruel as to allow their capture at Thomas’ hand.

Joan bit the inside of their cheek and growled softly, eyes narrowing at the back of the door they were sat opposite. Thomas had given them a small amount of wiggle room compared to Patton and Roman, and Joan was hoping to use this to their advantage. There was however one small problem in this, that being that the only two other prisoners – or were they hostages? – were out cold on the floor and unhelpfully deep sleepers. They’d have thought Roman, being an outlaw hunter, would have the decency to be a light sleeper especially with how many enemies he must have made over the years, but it was quickly becoming apparent that Roman suffered no such changes and that Logan must be the lighter sleeper of the two.

Words could not accurately describe how vexed and irate the awake bartender was with the revelation that not only were they the only one awake, but they were perhaps in the company of the worlds heaviest sleepers who had only had a few hours’ sleep in the past couple of days and would most likely sleep quite a long time to make up for that. Joan sighed heavily and pushed their legs out, if they were going to be here for a while they might as well get comfortable.

“Joan, my good friend”, a voice said as light flooded the small back room of the bar from the doorway. Joan winced but otherwise didn’t seem anything but disinterested in the sudden appearance of their former friend and customer.

“Thomas”, Joan grumbled out, shifting around a little as they tried to get more comfortable against the wall, hissing a little as a rope burn began to form on their wrists.

“Come now, what’s with the attitude? Look, I came to give you some food and water and… and ask for advice. I don’t want to keep you here, but I can’t have you running off and ruining my plans”, Thomas said softly, crouching down in front of the bartender and setting a tray of bread and water on the floor. Joan’s eyes adjusted to the light a little bit at a time until they could see the outline of a rather high-end suit adorning the man before them.

“What’s with the get-up? Why do you want advice from me?”, Joan asked, glaring at Saderson softly with an eyebrow arched in question. Thomas took this moment to sigh and motion for Joan to move closer and turn around.

“Look, I need to court Logan Lilac. I know you know who he is and I don’t know why you’re helping them, but I need to court him for the good of all outlaws. See, I need advice on how to court him. I’ve done everything I can think of and then some, but I need your opinion on how to make him fall for me. I… I’m having doubts on hurting him and I need a plan B in case I can’t go through with plan A”, Thomas explained and he untied and retied Joan’s hands so they were now in front of their chest instead of behind their back. Joan inched forward away from their old friend, turning and taking their place against the wall once more.

“So, you want me to help you find a way to hurt my best friend from my childhood?”, Joan asked slowly. Thomas froze before groaning and slapping his hands over his face.

“Oh my… Joan I… oh, man… I didn’t- I didn’t know I… look, I’m sorry”, Thomas muttered as he fell back a little into a sitting position, sighing and running his hands over his face. “When… I… no wonder you’re with them.”

“Yeah, no wonder I’m with the group of people out to keep my childhood best friend from being majorly injured”, Joan said, giving Thomas a soft glare while the man huffed a small laugh and groaned.

“I’m so sorry, Joan. Really, I am. I didn’t even think… I didn’t know… jeez. Look, I… for you I won’t hurt him, but that means I need a plan B. I need to properly court him and make him fall in love with me. If that happens I don’t need to worry about anything else. He’ll stay in Akers town and I can travel back and forth doing what I usually do”, Thomas said softly, trying to persuade the bartender into helping him. Joan closed their eyes and tilted their head back in thought. A minute passed by while they sat in silence, each thinking over what Thomas had just asked of the bartender.

Joan let out a small groan, “fine, I’ll help you. But I don’t want anyone else getting hurt. You have to leave Roman, Patton, Virgil and Anthony out of this. Once this is over you let all of us go and you get yourself a new bar to run your little business out of. I don’t want to see your face around my bar ever again, understand?”

“Understood”, Thomas murmured, eyes downcast as sadness washed over him.

“Good, now first off you need to do something nice. Have you done that?”

“I gave him a book and flowers before our first arranged date. Is that good?”

“I suppose it’ll have to do. What else?”

“I gave him a stone from the river bed to commemorate our first date together.”

“Sentimental, he’d have liked that. Go on.”

“Then I… well… I tried to kill Virgil after I poisoned his father, Logan’s father not Virgil’s father” Thomas muttered. Joan’s face darkened and they kicked a leg out, striking Thomas’ right shin and causing the man to cry out in pain.

“Ow! What was that for?”, Thomas asked as he rubbed the skin and bone of his leg.

“You killed his father. I may not have been David Lilac’s greatest fan, but even I wouldn’t think you’d stoop that low. You killed someone for Logan’s affections… and I’m pretty sure David Lilac would have liked you too. What on earth are you going to say when Logan finds out what you did?”, Joan asked, giving their friend a look that seemed to be a cross between frustrated and disbelieving.

“I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal and chill, he’s not going to find out”, Thomas murmured before crying out as Joan’s foot struck his left shin this time, “what is your deal?”

“He’s going to find out. He always does, then you’ll have to have him pretty tightly wound around your little finger or he will kill you. He doesn’t take kindly to family killers. I can’t believe you went so far as to murder David Lilac”, Joan hissed in a hushed whisper. Thomas sighed as he rubbed both of his shins, head falling onto the tops of his knees as he drew them in.

“He was pretty cut up about it… I… I didn’t think I’d feel that bad about it but seeing him like that…”, Thomas trailed off while Joan leaned back with a small groan.

“What’d you expect. You killed someone. It’s different when you kill someone that likes you, isn’t it? You betrayed David’s trust and in return betrayed Logan’s. Now you want to make amends by not hurting him… am I right?”, Joan asked and Thomas gave them a nod.

“Sounds about right… so you’ll help me?”

“I don’t really have a choice. I either let you fatally wound him or let him kill you. One way or the other I’ll be pissed off at one of you.”

“Help me and I’ll let you go see him… I’m not letting anyone else near him. I might be bad, but those people… the denizens of Akers town are way worse. They were practically swarming Logan at his father’s funeral, like… it was like they were begging him to give them his money. I can’t believe some people. I mean… at a funeral, his father’s funeral no less. They couldn’t let him have one day to process it all before they set on him like vultures.”

“That’s Akers town for you. Most of the people are descended from outlaws, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I believe it. Greedy, filthy, dirty little thieves with no right to-”

“Hey, calm down. You’re getting a bit worked up over this.”

“I just… they all... it’s so frustrating that they can do that to him and his brother. Anthony may be a little over the top, but neither of them deserve that.”

“Says the one who killed their father.”

“One-time thing.”

“Will be because they don’t have another.”

“Hey, I’m trying to… look advice. Help me court him, I’ll marry him, keep him away from everything, and we can go back to living our lives. Okay?”

Joan paused for a minute before nodding and reaching out to Thomas’ outstretched hand, “okay.”

“Lo, wake up”, Anthony whined, grabbing at his brother’s shirt and puling the cloth closer to his smaller body, frowning when the action did little to wake his brother. Anthony pulled harder, successfully knocking himself off his own bed, landing hard on his back and letting out a cry of pain that caused Logan to sit bolt upright. The elder of the siblings winced as Anthony groaned and turned over onto his side, running a hand over his back gently while Logan gave him a pitying look and moved to get off Anthony’s bed.

“I’m sorry, Ant. Are you okay?”, Logan asked, eyes looking less red than yesterday but cheeks still holding some of the blush from the crying. Anthony looked up as his brother dropped into a crouch, knees hitting the floor so he could kneel by his brother’s head.

“Fine”, Anthony breathed out, still a little winded from the experience, but regaining the necessary amount of air quickly. Logan sighed as concern and worry eased out of his body, but he remained a little stiff and rigid as he bent over a little, face and shoulders obscuring the sun’s radiant light from Anthony’s face.

“Good. So, you want to go out and shoot today?”, Logan asked with a soft smile, attempting to lighten the mood as Anthony rolled over onto his knees and elbows, pushing his body up off the floor and into his own kneeling position.

“Thought you were going to propose today?”, Anthony asked, regretting it as Logan’s expression turned sour for a second, smile back a moment later while his eyes retained some sadness at the idea.

“Thomas can wait. Don’t you want to spend some time together before I have to be married off?”, Logan asked, body relaxing and dropping a little as Anthony heard his breath catch.

“Of course, I do. Let’s eat and go”, Anthony answered with a smile, standing and offering his brother a hand up which the elder took gratefully. The black-haired boy sighed silently in relief as the light seemed to return to his brother’s eyes with a vengeance. Logan wiped off his pants before leaving the room, a thin layer of dust coating the grey material from the floor. “And take a bath before we go. You stink, Lo”, Anthony called out to the sound of a shout of laughter from the bottom of the stairs.

“I will if you will”, Logan called back, voice lighter with laughter and joviality. Anthony rolled his dark eyes before grabbing a spare change of clothes and venturing out of his room into the dark hallway.

The bathroom hadn’t been touched in ages. Old pale blue door and dull brass handle nestled innocently within a white doorframe and cream walls. There were stains on the blue paint; rusty brown washed out with small speckles of dark brown that littered the top as if a bucket of water had been poured sparingly across the top of it and the water left to sit until it dried into a mess of brown and blue. The inside wasn’t much better; a small room, not much bigger than a large pantry, painted with the same blue as the door and lit by a single window high above all else set opposite the door. There was a cabinet painted white that stood across from the bath, a small also white tub made of metal that burned with hot water and chilled with cold. The floor was a dark, dusty wood reminiscent of walnut, but not nearly as nice. It was deteriorating, small spikes and splinters sticking up in an unseemly and unsafe fashion while portions began to rot away turning pale, sickly almost. It was cracking, falling apart but Anthony couldn’t help but love it.

It took no more than two minutes for Anthony to fish out the salts from the cabinet, gather some herbs from the garden and drop them all into the tub. What took him longer, however, was the collection of water. The house was old, the bathroom sitting further from the kitchen than the living room and thus making the duty of gathering water an extra hard job to complete as taking the water from the pump to the tub meant carrying the bucket through the kitchen and hallway to the bathroom. This was tricky as it was a long walk, with a heavy bucket which was then filled with water thus bath times were usually reserved for special times or for when Anthony had help carrying the bucket to the tub. He wasn’t nearly as strong as his older brother or late father had been, arms and knees buckling under the weight of the water-filled bucket, however, he did his best to carry the bucket without spilling its contents.

Half an hour later he was much sweatier and twice as done with the job as he had been to start with. The bath was half full, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care that the water only reached halfway up his shins when he was standing in the tub. Nor did he care about how cold the water was, it was more pleasant than anything in the heat of the desert, so he accepted it with open arms. This action left him a shivering mess at the end of the bath time. A shivering, cold, but satisfyingly clean mess that now smelled strongly of rosemary and the imported lavender soap they’d bought from Thomas. Maybe once Logan was married to him they’d be able to get stuff like that for free.

“Done?”, Logan asked as Anthony padded into the kitchen, hair stuck to the sides of his face as he buttoned up his shirt, tongue sticking out in concentration. Logan turned around, facing his brother now rather than the stove as he eyed up the younger of the two boys in the room. “I’ll take the silence as a yes then. Here, I made breakfast”, Logan said as he took a seat at the small wooden table and pushed Anthony’s breakfast towards the opposite chair. Logan dropped some silverware onto the table next to the plate of eggs, tomatoes and lightly toasted bread as he brother sat down, still trying to button up his shirt.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Lo”, Anthony said with a smile, momentarily forgetting his shirt as the smell of freshly cooked tomatoes and eggs washed over him. He dug into the food as Logan sat back, a bemused expression on his face as a few tomato seeds flew off the plate and onto the tablecloth. Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head a little at the action, but otherwise kept quiet while his brother ate. Anthony slowed his grazing to look up at his brother, food left untouched in front of him. “You’re giving me a head start, are you?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Better eat quick, because either way I’ll win this little match between us”, Logan mumbled and Anthony’s attention returned to his plate, scoffing down as much of the food as he could before he heard the sound of silverware clattering against china. He looked up in time to see his brother’s eggs gone along with the toast and the tomatoes being steadily devoured. With the flair of a prince, Logan proceeded to wipe his mouth and stand, washing his plate while his brother stared at him. Logan stretched and turned back to his brother. “I’m going to have my bath, then we’ll head off. Clean up here, will you?”

“Uh… uh, yeah… yeah sure”, Anthony mouthed as Logan walked past him and up the stairs to his room, returning moments later with his clothes and a book.

“I’ll be in the bath if you need me”, Logan said softly, turning down the hall to the bathroom, before returning with a bucketful of dirty water. Anthony continued to eat, slower this time as Logan moved swiftly behind him, draining the bath and refilling it. On his final run, Logan stopped in the field to gather his herb of choice while Anthony began the clean-up.

Fifteen minutes later Logan was dressed, glasses pressing gently into the bridge and sides of his nose, smelling of sage, lavender, and mint. His hair was dryer than Anthony’s, even after the younger had been out of the bath for a half hour. It was tidier too, like his lifestyle and nature. He gave Anthony a smile as the younger took the tablecloth off the table and walked to the sink with it, filling up a bucket and grabbing some soap so he could scrub the white linen back to its natural color. Logan began to help out, moving to and fro within the kitchen with a broom and duster. Even while cleaning he looked the picture of a scholar, retaining his posture and stoic mask.

The sun beamed down upon the two, hot white rays blinding them as they hung the tablecloth on the washing line; two strings strung between a set of poles. They returned to get their clothing, cleaning and setting the grey, white and black fabric out to dry with the cloth. Logan wiped his forehead and turned to his brother, sweat causing the fabric of their shirts to stick to their backs, leaving them feeling less clean and more uncomfortable than right after taking their baths. The elder tilted his head and glanced at the sun, no longer high in the sky now as it began to set. The sky was not yet painted with the colors of sunset, but the day was drawing to a close and with it, their hopes of spending time together before Logan was married off. Logan swallowed and walked back inside the house, Anthony shaking his head and trailing after him.

“How does pancakes sound for dinner?”, Logan asked, though in truth he knew it was closer to lunch than dinner.

“Sounds great”, Anthony said, taking a seat at the table as he watched his brother make the batter and heat the pan. He’d miss this, but they had to move on.

The two were startled from their thoughts by a knock on the door. Three succinct knocks that reverberated around the house like thunder. Loud and imposing, full of purpose.

“Get the door, please”, Logan murmured, turning one of the pancakes in the hot pan and glancing at his brother. Anthony gave him a nod, standing and walking down the hallway. His heart beat heavily, quickening with each step. His hand reached for the door and he prayed that whoever was behind this door would be kind enough to leave once they saw how frazzled the two were, especially after their father’s passing. But upon opening the door he knew he’d have no such luck.

Acknowledgments/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx (@lowkeysalient) and @sea-blue-child

Asks, messages, and notes. All of these are viable options for your use to let me know you want to be added to the acknowledgments section.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #analogical #royality

4 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Chapter 12: Making Plans in the Dark of the Night

A/N: I’ll put this one up now and then the other up later tonight. I’ll also do linking up tonight when I upload Chapter 13

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (not yet implemented)

Word Count: 4800+

Thomas jerked awake at the sound of something tapping on the living room window. He scrunched up his face as light finally penetrated the darkness that lay behind his eyelids, sighing in annoyance as the tapping continued if slightly toned down. With heavy eyelids and a sneer to curdle dairy, the brown-haired man began to sit up. There was a soft moan from his chest and the outlaw boss realized he was no longer in his own house, rather he was in the Lilac house with the elder of the Lilac lads passed out on his chest, a soft frown marring his features at the sudden motion beneath him. It was…Thomas didn’t know what it was. Was it amazing? Was it enthralling? Was it eerie? Whatever it was it made his heart soften slightly, cracking the molded stone casing around his dead, lifeless cardiovascular muscle – or as dead and lifeless as the darn thing could be that is.

The tapping continued to annoy him and he found it forming into a niggling sensation on the inside of his skull. Practiced claws with painful accuracy digging into the soft material of his mind. Eventually he could no longer stand the pain and, though his heart ached at the motions, carefully slid Logan’s body off his own and onto the couch. It was relatively easy from there to take his leave from the room and enjoy the feeling of his numbed legs regaining blood flow – painful pins and needles jabbing at his only source of movement. With a rumbling sigh the outlaw boss shook his legs, attempting in vain to send more blood to his legs. Thomas frowned when the pain finally subsided enough for him to properly move, the front door of the Lilac property now within his reach. With the sort of annoyed aura, he usually reserved for his employees, the outlaw boss flung the door open, glaring towards the spot where the tapping was originating from.

A figure moved in the blinding light, slow enough to be human yet quick enough to be either an outlaw or a burglar. In this case, either was possible, Thomas reasoned, but he’d give them what for if they came at him.

“Boss”, the figure whispered and Thomas groaned internally, thankful for once it was one of his employees.

“Yes?”, Thomas asked at the figure neared and the sun’s blinding rays stopped cloaking the figure in shadows. A man presented himself, a little taller than his boss but equally as burly. “What have you come to me for? I thought I told all of you to leave Akers town alone, have you not learned your lesson?”, the smaller of the two threatened, wrapping a hand around the hilt of the pistol tucked away in the layers of clothing he wore.

“Sorry, boss. But I thought you should know. Virgil’s on his way here with back up. Roman’s closest to the town, but still a day or two away from here. His horse is a tired one, won’t be able to make it riding all the way here. He’ll have to rest it up along the way”, the man spoke, eyes darting to the hallway behind his employer, cautious and quiet as he tried to find any footsteps descending the stairs or any movement other than his and Thomas’ own.

“Thank you for this information. You will be rewarded handsomely for your efforts. How, pray tell, were you able to learn about all of this and come tell me before Virgil’s little friends and the hunter arrived?”, Thomas asked, curious about the man’s information. You could never be too careful.

“Note came by bird from Smithton. Said that a bloodied man and three others took up a night in one of the bars there. They recognized the four and when the hunter left they sent me a note. I came from Talyn’s right here to tell you. Have the note with me and everything if you want it”, the employee said, pulling out a small roll of paper from his coat pocket and handing it to Thomas with somewhat shaky hands.

Thomas glanced the paper over and nodded softly, “Good man. Leave me now. I have to propose to this devil and make sure the brother is out of the way before I can attend to Virgil and his party of misfits.”

The employee nodded, tucking his hands into his coat pockets and looking left and right before walking away from the house, early morning sun shining off the small metal objects that adorned his form. Thomas sighed as the man vanished down the hill, pulling out his pistol he fired one shot at the out of sight man. There was a caw from a bird a few miles away and the sound of something hitting the ground with a thud. Thomas twirled the pistol and walked down the hill to the body, kicking it gently with his foot before nudging it into the long grass beside the road. With Roman away and Logan confined to his house no one would find the body. Thomas chuckled softly and pocketed his pistol, tapping the metal as he wandered back up the hill. His no witnesses’ policy was a little bit poor, but he couldn’t have anyone in the town seeing the outlaw talking to him in such a casual manner. Thomas smirked a little as he stood by the door, looking out at the slowly waking world with a mix of bemusement and disdain. The outlaw boss took the moment of quiet to appreciate his own genius before turning on his heel and walking back inside. First thing’s first, he thought as he tucked the paper into his coat and safely out of the way of falling out – he couldn’t be found out at this point in time, not when he’d almost finished his plan – I need to take care of the younger Lilac, then I can move onto his brother.

“Are you sure about this?”, Joan mumbled as they clung to Patton in a futile attempt to keep themselves from falling off. So far, they had managed to stay upright and out of danger, but it was becoming increasingly difficult seeing as they had only had a few hours’ sleep and were still rather hungover from the previous ingestion of hard liquor.

“Certain, but if you’d rather walk, be my guest”, Patton mumbled half-heartedly, wondering if he had indeed made the correct decision to not only follow Virgil but to also follow his foolhardy crush into the scrum of battle against Thomas Saderson. Patton thought hunters were meant to be smart, not bull-headed morons. Yet here they were, two bartenders perched atop a saddled horse following an outlaw in the hopes of somehow making contact with Logan before the outlaw boss had a chance harm him and his younger brother.

Dust spat up at them as Patton pushed the horse further, faster, closer to Virgil and Di. The outlaw looked extremely determined, eyes hard and set upon the horizon of the dusty land even as the boulders and sun loomed over him on all sides. Dark against the sun-drenched land, a stark contrast that favoured his clothing and horse above all else. Black smudges against the beige, the duo raced across the desert, conquering the heat with thoughts of the Lilac and the Saderson. The flower that awaited its knight in shining black leather, his faithful dark steed by his side. A far contrast from the usual fairy tale, with their metal plated knights and white horses. Sword swapped for a pistol loaded with ammunition. Dragon swapped for an outlaw boss wanting a vendetta, needing to harm the flower Virgil was riding to save. The tower swapped for a town, the animals swapped for people. A real fairy tale, huh, Virgil thought bitterly as he rode on, pushing Di to move faster to their destination.

Patton wiped his brow as the sweltering heat penetrated the thick leather coat he wore, sweat drenching his shirt as he wondered just how long it would be before the group found themselves in Akers town. He wished it to be sooner rather than later as Joan adjusted themselves on the saddle behind him. With a jerk of his head, Patton pushed his glasses up not taking either hand off the reins of his horse. Joan, upon seeing this, moved one of their hands up to gently adjust both Patton’s hat and glasses.

“Thank you”, the man grunted softly, urging the horse closer to the outlaw's. Virgil seemed to slow, eyes planted on a dusty, dark brown boulder in the distance. The dark clad outlaw tilted his head a little as Di moved slowly towards the shape, the two bartenders coming up behind the dark duo and slowing to match.

“What’s wrong?”, Joan asked, eyes drawn to Virgil instead of the boulder-like shape.

“Is that a horse?”, Patton asked, his own eyes focused on the shape as it shuddered slightly. Virgil gave a single nod of confirmation before pulling out his pistol and dropping off Di to the ground. He prodded the metal softly into the beast’s stomach as the horse turned over a bit, large brown eyes blinking back at the outlaw. “Wait…wait, that’s- that’s Cameron”, Patton murmured, dismounting with Joan and pulling Joan’s horse along with him.

“Who names their horse Cameron?”, Virgil grunted out, finally speaking as he pushed the pistol back within the confines of his coat and dusting off the beast a little.

“Roman. Cameron is Roman’s horse”, Patton stated softly, bending down and handing the reins off to Joan as he ran a hand over the dusty strips of leather attached to his friend’s horse. Cameron lifted an eyelid, breath causing tiny clouds of dust to blow away from him as Patton rubbed his forehead gently.

“We can’t leave him here and if Roman left him, he’s probably coming back. He couldn’t get all the way to Akers town on foot and it’s more than likely that he’ll return for his horse once he’s gathered supplies and such”, Virgil mumbled, turning away from the slumbering beast and kicking a stone. “In any case, we can’t waste time here. I need to get to Akers and seeing as you, Patton, know this horse so well, I suggest you be the one to stay behind and take care of it”, the outlaw grumbled, attempting in vain to pull himself up onto his saddle. He grit his teeth and pushed himself up only to land on the ground and groan in pain as Joan rushed over to tend to the injury.

“You idiot. I thought you were supposed to be better at taking care of yourself than this”, Joan growled, glaring at their friend and pulling the outlaw’s arm over their shoulders. It took a little work and some small grunts of pain from Virgil, but eventually, the two bartenders were able to sit the outlaw against the sleeping horse.

“We can’t ride off and leave him like this”, Patton mumbled, pushing his hat up and running a hand through his hair. Joan nodded in agreement, grabbing their horse’s reins where they had been dropped and pulling the creature over to Di’s side and grabbing the other horse’s reins.

“But we also can’t let Thomas get away with whatever plan he’s got for your friend and his brother”, Joan mumbled as the handed the reins off to Patton and dug around in their horse’s saddle bag for some pegs and a hammer.

“We’ll have to wait for Roman then I guess… let’s just hope Logan can survive until then”, Patton murmured, as Joan positioned the pegs and swung the hammer down on top of them, the resounding sound of metal hitting metal filling their air.

The pair of bartenders were quiet as the sound bounded around them, filling the stale air with its repetitive sound. The dirt and dust that caked Cameron’s rich brown body fills the air, stirred up by Virgil’s hands as they grabbed at the hairs, pain torturing his side with boulder-sized needles. Rocks tumbled down the hill as Joan tied the reins of the two horses to the pegs, one peg per horse with little space between them. Di settled as the sun began to tinge the clouds above with streaks of orange and pink, coating them with color as they soaked up what little remained of the sun’s light. The clouds greedily swallowed the color while the three humans and horses waited patiently, hours ticking by as they stayed where they were.

The moon and stars filled the darkening sky, midnight blue setting into the once cobalt abyss above them. Glittering lights of silver and white dotted the inky blue like the many grains of sand and dust below the company’s feet. A crunching sound filled the cold air and two heads turned to gaze at the tired face and smoldering eyes of a one Roman King.

“What are you two doing here?”, Roman hissed at them, his small pile of kindling dropping to the ground as he wiped his dirty hands off on his breeches.

“Waiting for you”, Joan hissed back, seemingly just as grouchy as their long-lost comrade.

“We were worried and Virgil wasn’t well… we… we wanted to make sure you were okay, that Cameron was okay”, Patton tried to reason, standing and walking over to the hunter with an expression that neither hunter nor bartender could decipher.

“I didn’t ask you to come and find me”, Roman growled lowly, obviously agitated by the sudden appearance of the two bartenders and unconscious outlaw.

“You didn’t have to”, Patton replied in kind, a small frown inching its way onto his face as he spoke. The agitation of the man in front of him seemingly infecting him too as he straightened his posture and looked up at Roman.

Roman’s words were ice-like as he spoke, “Go back to Smithton. Akers town is still too far away from here. Virgil needs medical attention.”

“So does Cameron. Honestly Roman, I thought you knew better than to treat your horse like this.”

“I wasn’t the one who rode him ragged to Smithton.”

“Virgil needed medical attention.”

“Oh, sure he did. Just go back to Smithton, I’ll save Lo and Anthony and then I’ll send word to you guys.”

“I’m not leaving you to get yourself or anyone else killed by this maniac.”

“Well then you aren’t hearing me right”, Roman growled, standing up to his full height and narrowing his eyes at the other man. “Leave here now and let me go save Logan.”

“I’m not leaving you alone so you can get yourself murdered.”

“I won’t be alone, I’ll have Logan with me.”

Patton hesitated before opening his mouth to reply to the comment, “Well then I guess we both know what you’re really after with a statement like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Roman asked, growling a little and glaring down at the somewhat shorter male.

“You know perfectly well what I mean. I should have known you were after his money too. You’re just as bad as… as…”, Patton let out a small growl of his own, closing his eyes.

“Come on, I dare you to say it”, Roman murmured, body inching closer to the bartender.

“You’re as bad as Thomas”, Patton finally spat out, venom thick in his voice as his eyes open, ice like with obvious rage. Roman dared not speak, his eyes finding the ground and hands clasping each other behind his back. Patton’s feet shuffled away from him and he heard the tell-tale sound of dust rustling under leather boots as someone knelt on the rocky ground.

“Well…”, Roman began, words rushed through his head as he tried to form a coherent sentence to defend himself, “At least I’m not an emotional wreck.”

Silence filled the cool air, crickets chirping away quietly in the background. The bartenders didn’t move, Virgil remained asleep and Roman refused to make a sound. Di’s head and ears perked up at something in the distance that no human could catch. A rock rolled softly down the hill a few miles off and the mare’s heart rate quickened in tow with the revelation of rider and horse. The moon glinted off metal buckles and buttons, silver shining dimly in the dark. The rider reached into their coat, the suggestive click of a pistol quiet against the chirping of crickets and soft hooting of owls. Di stamped her hoof softly into the dirt and waited for Joan to look at her before rearing her head back a little. Joan’s eyes caught the movement in the dark, widening a little as they tried to remember how to breathe.

It truly was a terrifying sight to behold. An armed rider, shadowed by the darkness of the night on a dark steed. It was ghostly, almost supernatural with the way the pistol glinted in the dull light and the rider breathed in simultaneity with their horse. Chests filling and collapsing with twin breaths under coats of leather and hair. Joan was stuck between staring at the sight and letting the other two know of the mysterious rider in the night. They decided it better to let them know and rolled a rock over in the direction of the crouching Patton and sleeping, Virgil.

“Yes, Joan?”, Patton asked, sounding rather annoyed that Joan hadn’t spoken to him but had instead decided that tossing a small rock at his leg would be the best way of getting his attention. When Joan didn’t respond Patton turned his gaze from Virgil’s wound to the rock tossing bartender and gave them a soft glare. Joan tilted their head softly in the direction of the rider and made a shushing notion at Roman and Patton, who glanced towards the dark figures before looking at each other with twin impassive stares.

“I’ll get the fire started then”, Roman said, making his voice a little louder than it had been previously as he dropped to the ground and gathered the kindling he’d managed to find. He set up the fire between Joan, Patton, and Virgil with a little space either way. Joan’s eyes flicked towards the rider, staying on the dark clad figure for a moment before the sudden light drew them away.

Orange and white mixed together in a sensual dance, licking at the kindling and dancing over the darkening wood. Crackling filled the air as light illuminated the group with a pale orange glow. Heat poured forth from the construct as small embers dove from the flames into the abyss above. The beauty was lost on the group though as the sound of hooves on rocks drew closer, the quiet murmur of dust in the wind growing fainter as the thudding of three heartbeats drowned out all but the hooves. They each secretly hoped that the rider would pass them by, leave them alone, continue with their ride; but as each upturned, clattering rock and low, heavy hoof beat neared, they knew that wasn’t to be the case.

Logan awoke late that afternoon with Anthony snuggled up against his ribcage, heart beating softly against the squishy, human anatomy he held. His eyes were sore from either the sun’s bright rays or the tears – he didn’t know which. Speaking of the heavenly body that shone light upon the world, it was descending rapidly into the edges of the sky, beautiful celestial orange beauty tinting the sky with its saturating light. The now hydrangea blue sky, stained ever so slightly with the orange and peach of a rose, began to darken. Inky blue was slowly spilling in with hints of silver stars to dot the dark canvas. It would have been beautiful had it not been only a day since the sharp knife of mourning had wedged itself deep in Logan’s mind, heart and soul.

With a heavy heart and stomach full of lead, the elder Lilac shifted softly out from under his younger brother, running a hand gently through the unruly black strands of Anthony’s hair. His smile diminished as he freed himself, stretching a tad before going about his chores. Grief wouldn’t inhibit him from fulfilling his duties. The horses needed nourishment, the orchard needed to be tended to, the animals fed and given water. Many jobs quickly filled his mind and he set about doing them, fulfilling the mundane tasks as if his heart were not with his body. He moved around quickly, tending to the most pressing matters first before moving on and on, and so forth.

It was dark, the moon shining brightly in the ink-like abyss above before he realized that all had been taken care of. His thumb traced along his left clavicle, moving softly across the skin from the acromial end to the sternal end, he changed to his fore and middle finger before tapping softly against the skin covering his sternum. It was calming, in a strange way. An act he’d seen done before by another to another.

“Lo?”, a small voice asked, soft as a whisper and breathless as someone who’d run a day across the desert.

“Anthony?”, Logan asked back, slightly surprised to see his younger brother standing at the back door waiting for his return. Anthony rubbed at his eyes, obviously still sleepy, but attempting to appear not to be. “What are you doing up?”, the elder asked as he neared the younger, bending down as the dark-haired boy embraced his brother’s head and shoulders.

“Didn’t know where you’d gone. Got scared. Please don’t leave me like that again”, Anthony whispered softly and Logan’s heart broke at how sad and desperate the plea sounded. Logan wrapped his arms around Anthony’s stomach, pulling the boy closer to him and kissing his forehead softly.

“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving you anytime soon”, Logan muttered into his brother’s hair. Anthony’s hands tangled in his brother’s soft strands, the boys cried silently, tears pouring down their faces in anguish at having lost their father.

“Don’t leave me alone”, Anthony pleaded while Logan shushed his cries and cradled his head in his chest.

“I won’t. I won’t”, the elder promised, taking the time to pepper his brother’s scalp with kisses. They were gentle, barely there with how soft they were, how gently they were pressed to the mess of black hair. But they were appreciated greatly, returned tenfold by the younger who vehemently pressed his own quivering lips to his brother’s cheek. Tears mixed together, falling down soft cheeks as the silence built up. The night was near halfway when finally, the aching quiet was broken by a sob of remorse.

“You’ll leave though”, Anthony murmured, rolling his shoulders and pushing his body away from his brother’s chest, “You’ll leave, because you have to. You have to… to… to help people. You have to keep people safe.”

“And you will too. Now… now that… I can take you with me if you want”, Logan offered, voice small as he lifted a hand to Anthony’s cheek and wiped a trail of salt water from the round, brown orb.

“I… I want to, but…”, Anthony hesitated as the words he wanted to say left him, tears falling once more.

“But what? We can sell the house, sell the property, sell the fruit and the horses and you can travel with Roman and myself. You don’t have to fight… but I don’t want to leave you alone here… I don’t want to leave you alone ever again”, Logan said quietly, his own voice steady with suppressed sorrow.

“No… I don’t… I don’t want to sell this place off… but I don’t want you to leave me alone either”, Anthony mused gently, taking his brother’s unsteady hand in his own and pressing his face into the calloused flesh.

“Then… then I’ll stay. Roman can take care of the hunting business himself. I don’t want to sell this off either, so… I’ll stay”, Logan reasoned, moving his other hand up to wipe the second trail of tears from his brother’s face.

“You can’t do that. People need you”, Anthony cried softly, tears once more welling in his eyes, saline water dripping from the ducts and splashing down his cheeks.

“You need me more”, Logan muttered, pulling his brother’s head to his chest and hushing the boy as the soft hands clasped his shirt for dear life.

“I don’t, I swear. Other people need you more than I do”, Anthony cried, voice muffled by Logan’s once dry shirt.

“No, they don’t. Roman can handle it and I promised… I promised him I’d marry by the end of the month”, Logan murmured, chin finding Anthony’s head and resting atop it softly.

“You’re… you’re staying then?”, Anthony asked, voice filled with hope however muffled it sounded.

“Yes. Yes, I’m staying”, Logan confirmed as he closed his eyes, peace falling over the household as the two brothers held each other, harmony hanging heavy over their heads.

It took a while for the pair to calm enough to stand properly, holding hands as they entered the living room, standing and looking around in a daze before the younger tugged the elder up the stairs and to their rooms. Anthony pulled Logan into the small room and the pair huddled on the bed, laying down to hold each other through the night.

The moon cast an eerie glow through the window, illuminating the elder's features as he faced his brother. They lay in silence, breathing in tandem with one another while the stars twinkled overhead like several million eyes looking down upon the two, waiting for their next move.

“Logan?”, Anthony asked, voice echoing gently in the room. Logan shifted and blinked owlishly at the younger Lilac, light brown eyes meeting his brother’s dark ones.

“Yes?”, Logan asked, feeling a little sleepy as the night sky became dotted with sparse, thin clouds. The tinge of morning gracing the world, tinting the inky abyss and dissolving the stars with the light of the sun.

“Who are you choosing?”, Anthony questioned and Logan looked up and out of the window for a moment.

“Who am I choosing for what?”, the eldest Lilac asked, yawning slightly as sleep began to sink into his mind, clouding and fogging his sight and head.

“Who are you marrying?”, Anthony asked back, eyes stuck to his brother’s fluttering eyelids, sleep obviously trying to take over.

“I don’t know. Probably Thomas. Good night little Ant”, Logan muttered, pressing a soft kiss to Anthony’s temple as the light of the sun began to change the sky, navy changing to cobalt blue.

“Thomas… Saderson? Really? Logan? Logan?”, Anthony called, realising his brother was asleep before sighing and sitting up. His back bent as he looked over to his pistol’s hiding place, eyes trained on the glint of metal that the sun hit ever so slightly. Something was off about that man, he knew that for sure. He’d always been sure of that. What, he did not know. Why, he did not know. But he did know that Saderson was shady. The man had this lingering sense of death, that Logan couldn’t seem to pick up on. Maybe Anthony was better at sensing it, maybe his brother was numbed to it due to the man’s wiles and charms. But whatever the case, married or not, Thomas was a dead man if he stepped one toe out of line. Anthony promised himself that if Roman couldn’t take care of Logan and David couldn’t take care of Logan, then he’d take care of Logan.

Anthony placed a quivering hand to his cheek before pressing it over his mouth to quiet the small cry that escaped it. David… David was dead. The only father and family he’d ever had, apart from Logan, was dead. The only person who’d promised to always be there was dead. David Lilac was dead and there was no changing that. This day would forever be tainted with sadness and grief.

The younger glanced back at his brother, slumbering peacefully on his bed, face drawn out in calm lines. He looked so peaceful, so gentle and kind like this. As if he hadn’t just lost the only other member of his family. As if his father hadn’t just died. As if the man that Anthony had spent so much time alone with was still with them. It made Anthony angry. Angry that his brother could be so calm. Angry that his brother could sleep. Angry that his brother could lay there so happily. But the anger was gone in a second, because he couldn’t be mad at Logan. He could never hate, or despise, or be angry at his brother. Because Logan was Logan, and as many times as the hunter had left, as many times as he had sent himself into battle with little regard to his own safety, Anthony couldn’t be mad at him. They were brothers after all.

Acknowledgments/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx ( @lowkeysalient ) and @sea-blue-child

As per usual asks, messages and notes to be put in Acknowledgments and thus notified

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #analogical #royality

3 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

My sweet child. You’re far too kind dear

I stand by what I said, if you’re into analogical and royality and you’re not reading @chaoscontrolstheworld fic ‘Six Shooter’ you are 100% missing out. It’s long as fuck, amazingly described, and wonderfully characterized. It’s wild west themed and slow burn and dramatic as hell please read this fic I’m begging it’s so good.

3 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Chapter 11: A Dead Flower in The Rotting Earth (One Flower Down, Two to Go)

A/N: Last chapter for today, two uploads tomorrow though so I hope you like them.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (not yet implemented)

Word Count: 4900+

“Come on. I know you’re awake. I promised Patton I’d be here for you”, Roman mumbled as he took a seat next to the outlaw’s bed, fingers tenting on his chest as he looked over the semi-unconscious, darkly clad figure. Virgil groaned a little and opened his eyes to look up at the hunter.

“You need to leave”, Virgil wheezed out, memories flying back to him. He shuddered as the sound of Thomas’ pistol ran through his skull, reverberating around in the bone and soft tissue.

“You didn’t tell me you were an outlaw”, Roman said, giving Virgil another look over before fixing his narrowing eyes on Virgil’s already narrowed gaze.

“You didn’t ask. You need to leave and-”

“You know I’m a hunter. Once you’re better I’ll bring you in, but before that, I want the full story. From when I saw you in the bar until now”, Roman growled softly reaching over to Virgil and gripping his wrist a little too tight.

“If you won’t interrupt me and promise to leave as soon as the story’s over then yes, you have yourself a deal. Just get back to Akers town as soon as I’ve told you the whole story”, Virgil growled back as Roman released his wrist and the outlaw rubbed the sore bones and flesh. Virgil huffed lightly and grimaced as Roman pushed himself closer. “I’m an outlaw, that much you know. I…I came to Akers town to rob the place and got told off by my boss who you know as Thomas Saderson.”

“I knew he couldn’t be trusted”, Roman interjected only to gain a glare from Virgil.

“What did I say?”

“No interruptions. Continue.”

“As I was saying, I work for Thomas and he lets me keep some of the payment. I came back to Akers town to blackmail him after I figured he might have a weakness lodged in the town. After a…friendly chat with my employer I found he was just in it to get to Logan Magenta, or Lilac as I’ve come to know him as. I…I was found out by Patton and left for a little bit, came back and help you carry Logan home then left again. Thomas found me and I stayed in Joan’s bar for a little while before Pat came. I told him about Thomas and then Joan and Tal ran off to save him or something. I found a book that Thomas had tucked away with all of his evil intentions, ran off to save Logan with Pat, got shot and now I’m here.”

Roman nodded slowly, trying to process all the information he was being fed. His head jerked up a little as the story finally sunk in, details and all.

“Wait, so Thomas is an outlaw boss?”

“Yes.”

“And you work for him?”

“Yes.”

“And Logan’s in trouble?”

“Yes, again. Did you not get all of this from my story?”

“You’re right. I have to leave. If you’re here with Joan, Pat and me then Logan’s alone with Thomas.”

“You left him alone?”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know about any of this before you told me”, Roman cried out, running his hands through his hair and standing up abruptly, chair falling back behind him to the ground. The loud clatter of wood against wood made Virgil flinch, still unused to the loud noises of the outside world. The flinching motion and subsequent hiss of pain made Roman’s eyes flick to him, brown pools swimming with determination and anger. “I’m off to help Logan.”

“And I’m coming with you”, Virgil said, sitting up completely and glaring at the sheets of his bed. The pristine, pale blue slid across his legs innocently as he dismounted from the bed, stumbling back onto it as he attempted to stand.

“No, you’re staying here and getting better. I can’t have you getting worse before I can turn you in”, Roman growled softly as he reached over and grasped Virgil’s shoulders tight enough to bruise. Virgil winced a little and wrestled his shoulders out of Roman’s grip, turning around to glare at the hunter.

“Look, believe it or not I want to help. I may not know Logan that well, but the people Thomas is going to hurt if he doesn’t get his way…I want to help them. I get it, I’m an outlaw, I’m untrustworthy, but I want to help Akers town. I don’t want innocent people dead because my boss is an unfeeling, murderous, revenge-fuelled monster.”

“You’re staying here. You were right before, I need to go help Logan”, Roman muttered, stepping back and walking towards the door, hand running over the dull bronze handle. Virgil watched him silently, brown-eyed glare focused on the hunter’s back.

“I…you left him alone.”

Roman kept his eyes on the door handle, not daring to twist it as his heart somersaulted with guilt.

“I can help”, the outlaw insisted as Roman closed his eyes. “I want to help.”

Roman kept his face blank of emotion as he twisted the door knob and breathed out.

“You left him alone with a murderer!”, Virgil cried out, finally snapping as Roman’s quiet, silent form. Roman turned around, coat whipping out behind him as he walked quickly to the bed, a dark snarl present on his face marring the usually calm and positive appearance.

“I didn’t know!”, the hunter yelled gripping the sheets of Virgil’s bed in white-knuckled hands, twisting the pale blue fabric as he felt fear and anger wash over him like a tidal wave. He dropped to his knees and clenched his teeth, hand coming to cover his mouth as water began to leak from his eyes, staining his cheeks as red blossomed forth from the pale orbs. “I didn’t know.”

Virgil looked down at the hunter, eyes cold as his mouth twisted from a frown to a sneer. “You should have.”

Thomas smirked into his mirror, pushing the strands of hair back as they flopped down into his eyes. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, loosening it a little as he ran a hand through his hair. With one more glance at the flowers to his right he knew he was ready. Ready to bury that old geezer David that stood in his way for far too long, making Logan too hesitant to even think about marriage. Today was the day David Lilac was to be buried and Thomas couldn’t be happier. Of course, he’d have to hide that happiness. It’d be a shame to waste all his hard work in getting Logan on his side only to lose him at his father’s funeral.

The outlaw boss let out a snigger as he picked up the flowers. Beautiful dark crimson roses, white lilies, and pink carnations tied together with string. It was all too perfect for Thomas to bear as he walked to the door and donned a black hat he’d cleaned for this very occasion. David Lilac, aged sixty, death by poison at Thomas’ hand – unbeknownst to the townspeople. To them it was just old age and the so-called cold that David had suffered from in his final hours.

A laugh echoed briefly though the old white house, bouncing off the walls and paintings as the man cleared the smile off his face, donning a grim expression and pitiful eyes instead. Oh, how perfect could life get? One down, two to go, the man thought as he exited his house, hand brushing lazily over some daffodils and long green stems. The church bells rang from below as Thomas walked down the hill, hand in his pocket as he fished out his pocket watch. The small, intricately engraved silver watch slid easily out of the grey and black fabric of his pocket. He clicked it open and gazed down at the moving hands; little black pieces of metal set behind a dome of glass against a cream background.

Thomas chuckled softly as he looked around, the entire town was deserted. Shops closed down for a day of mourning, grieving for the passing of one of the wealthiest people the town had to offer. The outlaw boss rolled his eyes and snarled a little at the church yard. No doubt now that David was gone, new of his passing spreading like wildfire as most things to do with death do, Logan would become a much sought-after prize among the community. Young, rich in some way, handsome, intellectually driven. A dreamboat if ever there was one, Thomas thought sarcastically with a dry laugh, stopping a few feet from the small church.

White with a small spire at the back, topped with a small wooden cross it stood off to the side of the town. It was close to the edge, only stopped from reaching aforementioned edge by the small plot of land that stood between the fence and church. The plot was dotted with neat rows of tombstones, sculpted figures and intricate metal plates all indicating a dead member of the community. Due to the community’s size, being rather small and only home to a couple hundred people, the plot didn’t take up too much room. What did take up a large amount of room was the turn out for the elder Lilac’s funeral.

Apparently, all of the town’s people had decided to turn up. And, fair enough, Thomas supposed as he leaned against the church and watched the ceremony get underway. People took out fans, if they had them and Thomas was suddenly reminded of the fan back at his house, perhaps it would be best to make a quick trip back home to gather it for Logan. The poor hunter would need it in this heat, with all the black he was wearing. He hoped the hunter wouldn’t notice his lack of presence as he walked back up the hill, stopping momentarily to catch his breath as the sun shone down on his harshly, as if punishing him for some deed he had committed. Thomas laughed at the thought. He’d committed so many and yet only now was the sun becoming a brutal punishment. Perhaps it was trying to deter him from returning to his house or the funeral, trying to fry him on the spot as he stopped and glared up at it, smug smirk on his face.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that”, the traveler said softly, wiping his forehead and setting off, stones tumbling away under his boots as he hiked the last few feet up the hill to his home.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, I know.”

“He was such a nice man.”

“I know.”

“He cared for this community so much.”

“Yes, he did.”

“You have our prayers.”

“Thank you”, Logan said, voice stiff as the couple walked off after the elderly woman and young male. He almost rolled his eyes as he glanced at the small line that had formed of people wanting to talk to him, help him through grieving, try to make a move on him for his money. It was getting ridiculous and Logan detested the ridiculous. He wished Patton or Roman were here, helping him with all these people. He glanced back a little to check on Anthony. The only reason he wasn’t with his younger brother was because of these people. How he’d love to just whisk the boy away to their home, spend the next few days cooped up in their white palace of solitude, separated from these flies that swarmed around them as if they were made of decaying matter. How he’d love to just spend his days away from this town, away from these people with only his books and brother for company. But he couldn’t. It was an unrealistic wish that he could never have fulfilled. Logan looked up a little watching as the lips of a one Wilbur Corsickle moved, brawny arms and sausage fingers reaching out for Logan’s hand as kind eyes moved from the ground to Logan’s face, concern clouding his freckled features. Wilbur’s hand was warm, calloused from labouring in the fields, but pleasantly soft in a way.

“Do you mind?”, the large boy asked as he raised a hand to Logan’s face. Logan shook his head a little, allowing the boy to pull him in a little, fingers gently wiping away tears that seeped from the corners of Logan’s chocolate eyes. The calloused hand nudged his glasses a little but Logan didn’t mind as he let the tears fall, shock finally catching up to him as his body numbed. A small, barely audible whimper escaped Logan’s mouth before a hand on his shoulder finally snapped him out of the shocked state.

“I’ll take it from here”, a voice whispered softly and Wilbur nodded, moving away from Logan and whoever was now holding him. “Let’s get you and Anthony home.”

Logan nodded numbly, allowing the figure to gently grasp his arm and pull him away from the crowd of money hungry vultures. Anthony’s soft footfalls moved off after his brother, but Logan didn’t dare look up as his mind swirled with a fog unlike that of the rage he had held at times. The fog that clouded everything and made him retreat into his mind. A swirling white mist that rang in his ears, blocked out his senses and made his jaw clam up. It was a little comforting, but it scared him. The comfort, the calling, the blocking and white noise. He could get lost in it all, he had before and he would again. What scared him was that one day, he may not wake up from it.

He didn’t notice he was home, or that he was sitting, or that the sun had gone down hours ago until Anthony was crying softly in his lap. Dark brown pools filled with grief and sadness for a man he never truly knew but had called father regardless. Sorrow and anguish filled tears streamed over dark cheeks, red and rosy with pent-up suffering. Logan pushed a hand gently through the tuft of wild raven hair the younger possessed. It was hard going through this, he’d experienced this thrice before; his mother, and then both of Roman’s parents.

It had been so hard on him the first time, pain so built up behind a wall of indifference that once the floodgates opened, one fateful night with Roman, there was no going back. It had felt like his entire world was ending, tears streaming steadily down red, aching cheeks, nose running as if he had a cold. His chest ached, his throat ached, his voice was scratchy and there was nothing Roman could do to comfort him except sit there and rock back and forth, his best friend wrapped tightly in his embrace.

Thinking back on it now, Logan could only imagine how painful it would be for Anthony. Though he never truly forgot the pain that had wracked his body every day since the day his mother died, it had dulled over time. Anthony’s pain was new, fresh; like an open wound that had been salted and pulled open over and over again. A gash that sizzled with pain and sorrow from the depths of his heart to the back of his skull. A pounding, aching, scratching that pierced the back of his mind, scorched his eyelids, scratched his throat raw and pushed pins of delicate pain into his beaten, bloody heart.

Logan tilted his head back into the wall, pulling his brother closer to his chest and stifling the cries with his coat and shirt. It took a little while before the cries died down from soft howls to whimpers of pain. The elder cuddled his brother closer to him, eyes unfocused as his head craned forward, neck meeting Anthony’s dark hair. His Adam’s apple bobbed a little against the mane of black and brown, coffee strands tickling his chin as Anthony nudged his head closer. Logan closed his eyes as the younger settled into a comfortable position and finally stilled, voice silent and whimpers cleared from the air as silence reigned supreme.

“Lo?”, Anthony asked, looking up a little into the underside of his brother’s jaw, nose driving into the soft skin gently.

“Yes?”, Logan asked, voice soft as he ran a hand through Anthony’s hair, swallowing at the dryness of his mouth and throat.

“Why…why do people die?”, Anthony asked and for once Logan didn’t know the answer to a question posed by another. Logan pulled Anthony in closer and sighed into the mass of dark hair that clung to Anthony’s head.

“I…I don’t know”, Logan murmured into his hair, running a hand over Anthony’s back and shoulders, letting the appendage run around in slow, soothing circles.

“Uh, is this a bad time to be here?”, a voice asked, soft and low with comforting undertones. Logan opened his eyes and looked over at Thomas, the traveller standing off the side of the room awkwardly, eyes moving to the ground as Logan’s drilled into him. Logan shook his head softly and motioned Thomas over, clasping a hand around the other man’s neck and pulling him in, allowing his tears to finally break free and fall onto the traveller’s shoulder. Thomas merely took a seat next to Logan and pulled the brothers close, keeping his touches light in the wake of the grief and devastation. He’d returned to find Logan a teary mess in the graveyard, Anthony even more so. He’d ushered them away from the townspeople and up the hill to their home. As much as he loathed the hunter he couldn’t bear the thought of other people making the man cry; call it his humanity or jealousy he wouldn’t stand for those people making the hunter tear up and break. Only he was allowed to make the hunter cry, only he was allowed to break the man down to dust, only he was…only he was…

Thomas looked down at his left shoulder where the cries had dimmed to soft whimpers and distant sighs, shuddering breaths replaced with tiny gasps for air. The Lilac brothers lay next to him, passes out with tear stains marking their cheeks. The outlaw boss sighed and pulled the hunter in closer, taking a moment to shift into a more comfortable position on the white couch. This would be beneficial to his final goals. He’d gain their trust, make them think he was an innocent, naïve traveller and then he’d pounce on them. He’d tear them apart, rip them to shreds, make mincemeat out of their souls.

The boss swallowed and tucked his head in a little, nosing Logan’s brown hair out of the way and planting a soft kiss on the top of his skull before pushing his chin over it, jaw meeting forehead as he finally found a comfortable position. He relaxed into the couch, finding his peace before pulling the two closer and closing his eyes.

Thomas smirked in his sleep addled state; the blood had been cleaned up, bullet marks patched up, scuff marks wiped away, and poison disposed of. Oh, it felt so good to get away with murder.

Joan grimaced as they awoke, mind fuzzy, tongue like lead and body in pain. They knew that they’d been drinking immediately, they’d felt this before. Joan opened their eyes, glancing around the room and flinching at the brightness of it all. They hated hangovers, but it was just part of drinking alcohol and being away from the bar. Speaking of which.

Joan sat up and rubbed their head, properly taking in all the details of the room they’d been given. White sheets decorated their oak bed, hard pillows placed under their head along with a coat that reminded Joan of something. They couldn’t place where they’d seen the dark brown leather before, but it would come to them in time. The rest of the room was plain, boring and uninspiring. It held little else than a small window opposite the door, and a trunk at the end of the bed. Both creations were made of oak and the window was painted white, paint peeling off in places as the age showed through.

The sun shone through cracks in the dust and dirt, orange light filtering into the room and bouncing off the metal that adorned parts of the leather coat under their head. The sunset was most likely very beautiful, yet Joan couldn’t find it in them to care all that much. In this world, this land, this desert a sunset like that could be a death sentence. A warning of the terrors to come. It was so beautiful, yet so deadly. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, as the adage goes. For all the poor souls, out there in the desert knew, the sun could set and never come up again for them. Death laid in wait around every corner and there was no telling what laid around the corner of the sun setting.

The sun was deceptive like that. Beautiful, but deadly. Brilliant and radiant, yet a curse. It gave life, and took it away. It sent men to their graves and allowed new ones to rise, ready to take on the world they had been born into. How naïve would one have to be to think of the sun as beautiful? How stupid would one have to be to think of the sun as radiant? How trusting would one have to be to think anything in this world could be kind and pure and lovely? The world was a cesspool full of deceit and lies. People selling out others for money, and what? What else was there in this world but money? What else was there but money and lies and deceit and the torture of the sun? Life was painful. Death was painful. Birth was painful. What in this world wasn’t painful? Even love…even love was painful.

There was a creak and Joan’s head spun to the door, eyes dancing over the construction as his head swam from the quick action. The door opened, knob turning slowly and stopping before quickly bouncing back to its previous position. A hand grasped the wood and pushed it open, a small grunt echoing through the empty expanse of the room. A tuft of brown hair came next, bobbing a little before tilting up allowing Joan to witness the bespectacled face of one Patton of Akers town.

“Morning sport. How’re ya feeling?”, Patton asked softly and Joan groaned collapsing back into the bed as the sunset cast a glow throughout the room. They rubbed the heels of their hands into the eye sockets, trying to filter out all the light that was currently streaming onto their face. “I’ll take that as terrible”, Patton said gently, taking a seat on the side of Joan’s bed as the bartender shifted over, a loud groan resonating from the lump of pale flesh and dark hair covered by white sheets.

“What did I drink last night?”, Joan groaned out, shifting around a little until they finally found a comfortable position, turning their head a little and glaring up at Patton who offered only a gentle smile as he adjusted his glasses.

“Well…I’m not exactly sure what it was, but you drank about a glass of it and ended up completely smashed and out of it. You okay, buddy?”, Patton asked, tilting his head a little in concern. Joan merely groaned again and pulled their body in closer, curling up in a ball like position.

“No. Do I look okay to you?”

“Well”, Patton muttered softly before Joan’s hiss of discontent brought him back to reality and made him start a little at the unexpected aggression.

“Leave me to sleep please”, Joan mumbled out and Patton sighed, taking his leave as Joan curled up more. Patton opened the door gently and walked out of the room, leaving Joan to wallow in their pain and misery as the sun glared through the window with orange and pink tones, painting the sheets in a pale orange and rose light.

Patton made his way down to the bar, greeting the only other human within the establishment still awake and giving her a smile. The bartender grunted softly, going back to cleaning before setting the glass down and turn to him fully.

“I’m off to see my friend. Uh…Joan’s not going to need anything for a while. Thank you for letting us stay here while our friend heals up”, Patton said, rubbing the back of his neck as the woman’s brown eyes drilled into him. The robust lady grunted softly again and turned back to cleaning, running her cloth over the dirty, dusty mirror and leaving a smear of dirt in the cloths wake. Patton gave the bartender one final hesitant nod before journeying out of the bar and across the road to the small two-storey building that Virgil was currently being held in. He sighed and pushed open the door, smiling at the few people that dotted the hall waiting for friends and family to return. A small male with dark hair smiled back and turned his face to the ground as Patton walked past him, determined to see Virgil.

“Why are you here?”, Virgil asked, curiosity and confusion coloring his tone as Patton stepped into his room.

“I’m here to see you. Where’s Roman?”, Patton asked, looking around as he stepped towards Virgil, hand gripping the chair lightly.

“Your friends left already”, Virgil muttered as Patton looked around the small room for Roman.

“Left? For where. He was meant to be here with you. Oh, when I get my hands on him”, Patton growled softly as he took a seat next to Virgil’s bed and looked down at his white-knuckled hands that were clenched into tight fists.

“He left to go help Logan. Remember. We were going to help Logan out and I told him all about it. Don’t tell me he went off alone”, Virgil muttered, turning his gaze to the small, dust-covered window that obscured his view of the outside world.

“He…he’s gone to help Logan”, Patton echoed softly, eyes widening as the words sunk in, “he’s gone to help Logan without us?”

“Well, I assumed he’d take you or Joan with him, but I guess hunters are just as bull-headed as I remember”, Virgil growled as he sat up on the bed, twisting his body until his legs were planted firmly on the ground. He’d had enough rest and he couldn’t let that idiot kill himself in the process of helping another hunter against his boss.

“He’s gone to help Logan”, Patton repeated, voice low and breathy, eyes focused on the wood floor at his feet rather than the outlaw that was, at this very moment, hobbling over to the door to let himself out.

“You coming or are you going to let him get killed by my boss?”, Virgil asked, looking back as he twisted the door handle and shoved the door open, grimacing as pain rippled through him from his bullet wound, the sudden force on them causing sharp pinpricks of pain that turned into a throbbing ache that filed his torso. Patton didn’t lift his head and Virgil rolled his eyes, walking out as best he could and making his way to his horse. The bartender started when the door slammed shut behind Virgil, head whipping to the sound before turning to the empty bed. With a sudden shock, realisation dawned on him and he sprinted out of the room, ignoring the calls of the medical practitioners and staff as he attempted to catch up to the crippled man.

Virgil was already soothing Di and forcing himself up when Patton exited the establishment, eyes wild and wide as they searched for the injured outlaw. The outlaw didn’t see him as he kicked Di into a trot, moving off as a swift pace. Upon seeing this the wide-eyed bartender raced into the bar, dropped some coins onto the wood and ran up the stairs, retrieving a bewildered and flabbergasted Joan from their sleeping chambers and grabbing Roman’s coat in the process. It was mere minutes before the pair arrived downstairs, Patton promising to fill the dark-haired bartender in on their way to Akers town.

It was clear to Joan that something was wrong and whatever was wrong had deeply affected the other bartender enough to need Joan to come with him. They didn’t ask for an explanation as the duo entered the bar, but hesitated as Patton raced out for the doors the sound of a horse echoing through the dark night. With a glance at their hostess and a nod from the woman, Joan ran out of the doors after Patton finding the man perched upon their horse head swivelling to and fro.

“What’s wrong?”, Joan called up, face a picture of worry as Patton’s head twisted to them. Patton swallowed and looked at the entrance to the town where Joan could see the distant figure of horse and rider exiting into the desert and lonely night.

“Get on. I’ll explain on the way”, Patton urged, finding his voice as Joan moved closer, forcing their weary body up onto the horse’s back as Patton kicked the beast into action, bolting after the rider. Joan looked back at the bar and buildings, the town they’d most likely never see again.

“Good riddance”, they muttered under their breath before turning their head back to the road ahead.

Acknowledgments/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx (@lowkeysalient) and @sea-blue-child

Asks, messages, and notes. Go wild, kids.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #analogical #royality

3 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Chapter 10: You Wound Me With Your Words

A/N: We’ll keep the warning rolling so... a bit of blood and all that.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (not yet implemented)

Word Count: 4700+

How had this happened? Patton was hiding downstairs, eyes wide, too shocked to move as a blood-splattered Thomas Saderson walked down the stairs, a wide grin on his face. Patton held his breath and prayed that he wouldn’t be found. He’d been halfway up the stairs when he had heard the gunshot and subsequent cry of pain. He heard Virgil’s scream, heard the loud footfalls and hid downstairs behind Logan’s couch. He was thanking his lucky stars he was as lean as he was right now, had he been any musclier he’d have not been able to fit behind the couch. Patton clasped his hands over his mouth as he heard footsteps near the couch, he closed his eyes and almost breathed a sigh of relief as the footsteps faded from earshot. The bartender peeked over the top of the couch carefully and squinted as the retreating figure. He needed to tell Logan about this…after he helped Virgil. The man scrambled out of his hiding spot quickly and ran up the stairs, tripping a few times and hurling himself into the white, ajar door. He dropped to his knees at the sight of Virgil, passed out from blood loss with a bloody hole in his side.

“P…Patton…”, a voice wheezed out and the bartender lifted his head to look at David Lilac, still immobile in his bed.

“David?”, Patton called out and the man gave him a slight nod.

“Take him…take him and…and warn Logan about Thomas”, David wheezed out, sounding as dead as he was looking. Paperwhite skin stretched thin over his skeleton, blue and red veins pale as they stuck out in his skinny frame.

“Wh-what happened?”, Patton asked, feeling his stomach turn at the sight.

“Thomas…Thomas happened. Get him out of here”, David growled out as pain and cold sweat wracked his body. He shivered as Patton looked down at Virgil, swallowed and took the man his arms, pulling him up and cradling him close.

“I’ll be back”, Patton said, trying in vain to reassure the man. David shook his head a little and gave the bartender a smile.

“Tell my boys I love them”, the man said softly, eyes closing over as another shot of pain rushed through his system. Patton watched for a second as David’s labored breaths got lighter, but he turned and rushed down the stairs before he could witness anything more. It was as if the world had slowed, birds stopping in mid-air as Patton rushed to the horses. The closest medical facility was in the next town over and that was at least a half day’s ride on the fastest horse. Patton swallowed and looked at Virgil’s unconscious body. He needed to get Virge medical help…but he needed to warn Logan and Anthony. But Virge needed his help first.

Patton kicked his horse into motion, Virgil’s mare trailing along behind his stallion as Virgil pressed against his back. Patton winced as blood began to seep into his clothes, the warm liquid clung to his skin through his shirt, coat forgotten behind the couch. He swiped a hand back and clung to Virgil’s arm, biting his lip as he forced his horse to go faster. Cameron moved swiftly and Patton found himself coughing as sand was pushed up into his face, wind whipping his face harshly as the desert heat burned his uncovered head and face. The sun was rising on the horizon when he heard a horse whinny behind him. He glanced back to see two figures atop horseback charging at him. His heart accelerated at their dark clothes and large coats; could they be outlaws? Now was not the time for outlaws.

Patton growled and tied Cameron’s reins around Virgil’s arm, pushing himself around to glare back. Adrenaline pumped through him as he grabbed one of Virgil’s pistols and pulled back the trigger. He fired and watched as the riders swerved and the sand next to them exploded with a little puff. He grumbled and reloaded quickly, checking that the horse was still on course before firing again, this time hitting a rock a few inches away from one of the horse’s legs. The horse stopped momentarily before the rider at the front kicked it into gear. The world darkened for a second and Patton growled once more as the horses and riders entered a cave. He knew where he was and turned around, grabbing Virgil’s tied arm and untying it. He checked behind him and pushed Cameron to move faster, swerving the stallion and mare to the side of the cave as the two riders and horse behind him began to catch up. Patton reloaded and cocked the gun as they finally caught up slowing a little to ride side by side with Patton and Virgil. The bartender lowered the gun a little, aiming it at the first rider’s head.

“Don’t shoot, Patton”, the first rider called and Patton blinked, his horse slowing a little as Patton pulled the reins back. Confusion lacing his features as he looked stunned at Roman and Joan atop the horse.

“What happened?”, Joan asked, looking from Patton to Virgil and finally looking at the dropped pistol. Patton felt a wetness trail down his cheeks and, finally, he let the floodgates open. Tears streamed down his face as Virgil’s body trembled behind him, his own crying causing the movement from the other.

“Hey, hey now”, Roman said, demounting from the horse and rushing over to Patton, face pinched with worry and concern as his hands gently grasped Patton’s knee, eyes wandering over the bartender to the outlaw behind him. Patton let out a sob and moved a little in the saddle. He wanted to dismount, to hug the hunter, cry into his shoulder and never let go, but he had to worry about Virgil. The outlaw that was passed out on his back with a gunshot wound in his side courtesy of Thomas Saderson.

“I…I have to …I have to get to Virgil to…to…to”, Patton stuttered, words wet with tears as he tried to tell them what he needed to do. Joan frowned then looked behind them at the end of the cave, a small speck of light shining through the end of the rocky tunnel.

“You need to get to Smithton, for medical treatment”, Joan mumbled, pushing themselves to the front of the saddle.

“Y…y-yeah. I need…I need”, Patton sniffled, wiping his tears away with his shirt and dabbing at his eyes.

“Roman, you take Di. Let’s get Virge out of here”, Joan said, voice firm as they whipped their horse around and kicked the beast into action. Roman pulled himself up onto Di, untying the mare from Cameron and moving off, making sure to stay close to Patton while the other seemed much more focused on keeping the unconscious outlaw upright.

The four trekked on, stopping briefly every few hours to check on Virgil’s health and wellbeing. Patton had used some water and a portion of his shirt to wash and cover the wound, but they had no idea how to take the bullet out. The sun was setting as they neared the large rock formation, marking the entrance to Smithton. The town loomed above them, sitting atop the hill and shining in the dim light. They raced up the hill, horses panting loudly as the hill began to smooth out into a plateau.

The town itself seemed marginally less welcoming and homely than Akers town. Where Akers town was open Smithton was closed, enveloped with a low wooden fence and extremely hard to get to. Smithton was made up of tall buildings, dusty streets, corrupt officials and shady bars. Wooden buildings with dark colored paint and heavy wood signs. Shallow metal troughs filled with dark water for horses to drink from. If there was another town with medical help that wasn’t a few days ride from here, they would have gone there.

“Patton, get Virgil to the hospital. We’ll stay outside while he gets patched up”, Joan murmured, eyes on a group of people who were sat outside one of the bars, hands on their pistols as they watched the travelers pass them by.

“Are you two going to be okay?”, Patton asked, eyeing the group before looking back at Roman and Joan.

“We’ll be fine. I’m sure a couple of these guys have some price tags on their heads, so if we do end up fighting we’ll have something to pay for the hospital bills with”, Roman said with a small smirk, relaxing back in Di’s saddle. Patton sighed but chuckled a little at the hunter’s attempt to lighten the mood. The outlaw and bartender moved off, horse backing up a little before walking towards the nearest medical facility. Joan followed for a few steps before turning their horse towards the nearest bar that didn’t have people glaring daggers at them out the front, moving swiftly off towards a shady looking establishment. Roman checked over the group before following Joan, Di snorting a little as she carried the hunter towards the darkly painted building.

The building was tall, three stories so and painted with black and burgundy. The oak shone through in places where the black paint was peeling off, small pieces of said paint crushed within the sand and rocks, tainting the brown and red with flecks of black. There was a trough, rusty and full of brown water out the front, lying just beneath the porch and red-coated railing. Broken chairs and tables lay to one side on the porch, blocking the rest of the porch off from guests and patrons.

Roman slid off Di, tying the dark mare’s reins to the railing with practiced ease, following Joan’s example as the bartender walked up the stairs and entered the bar. Joan took a seat on the stool that was nearest to the center of the bar, seeing it as a good vantage point should anyone recognize them or Roman. Roman took a seat next to them, choosing to sit closer to the entrance than the stairs.

“What can I get for you?”, a gruff voice asked and the two looked up into the face of a rough looking female; wild raven hair full of ringlets that cascaded down around her square face, eyes like burning coals behind the brown of her iris’.

“Two waters, if you’d be so kind”, Roman asked politely. Joan rammed an elbow into his side, causing him to wheeze as the sudden lack of breath and the sudden increase in pain.

“Water, two. Make it good”, Joan growled at the woman, who nodded and walked off looking more disinterested by the minute.

“What was that for?”, Roman asked, doubled over in pain, one hand gripping the bar while the other lay firmly over his bruised side.

“I do the talking. I know how to talk to them, how to get what we want and how to not get killed. You let me talk or you’ll have bruises for days”, Joan muttered under their breath, turning a little and looking over their shoulder at the rest of the bar. The bar was nowhere near as full as their own had been; six patrons in total excluding themselves and Roman. All six were large, imposing figures, seated around the bar at various tables, but never with each other. The roundtables supported multiple glasses and bottles, full of transparent liquids or drained of their contents.

The only thing that really struck Joan as odd was the large fireplace on the other side of the bar. It had been walled up, but it was still there. Honestly, who would need a fireplace in the desert where the lowest it got was a cool wind at night. The more Joan looked though, the more they wondered if the strange addition had a more sinister purpose.

“I…I’m going outside. Patton won’t know where we are if we…if we don’t tell him. Don’t want him wandering into another bar…or worse”, Roman bit out, still in pain from the elbow to his side. Joan nodded, waving vaguely in the direction of the door with their mouth a little open, contemplation filling their features as they stared at the fireplace. Roman grunted softly and stood, limping a little to the door and turning around as the bartender came back, glasses of water in hand. The return of the imposing woman made Joan return to reality, face turning back to the bar as they looked at the water, a frown marring their lips.

“Roman, come here for a sec”, Joan grunted out, looking at the water with a curious eye while the bartender walked away from the duo.

“What is it?”, the hunter asked, taking his seat again and fighting down the hiss from the pain.

“I want you to stay here a second. I’ll need you to shoot if this water turns out to be anything but water”, the bartender replied, looking through the glass as they held it to their eye, inspecting it before pulling it to their mouth.

“What do you mean?”, Roman asked, voice wary.

“I mean it could be poisoned or drugged, or it could be alcohol or something even deadlier”, Joan murmured, tipping the glass back and taking a sip. They pulled the glass away and swallowed, running their tongue over the top row of their teeth. Joan waited for a second before sighing and taking another sip from the glass.

“I assume that means it’s not deadly”, Roman said and Joan nodded, putting the glass down and standing.

“Let’s go find your friend then and find out what happened to mine”, Joan murmured taking a few uneasy steps towards the door before walking more briskly out of it and down the steps. Roman followed after downing his water, wiping the excess away with his sleeve before heading off with a small wink in the broad female’s direction. The bartender rolled her eyes but smiled down at her feet as she cleaned up the glasses.

“So, where did Patton take your friend?”, Roman asked, looking around as he caught up to Joan, who was looking from door to door, searching for any sign of Patton or Virgil.

“No idea. I guess we wait out here or we go searching”, Joan offered softly, hand moving under their coat to their pistol as the group of people outside of the bar a little way off glared at the duo.

“Stay here, I’ll find Patton and Virgil”, Roman muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and tilting his head down a little, eyes narrowing as he pulled his old acting tricks out. He made his body language mimic that of someone who was on their way to murder someone. He squared his shoulder, stretched his neck, tilted his hat, and walked with purpose, eyes narrowed and judging as he walked down the empty street. Joan shook their head and sighed a little as they sat down on the steps, taking out a small blade and twirling it in their hand. It was going to be a long night, the bartender thought as they eyed the medical facility across from them where Patton’s horse was tied up and drinking.

The first place Roman visited was a large building, which he was promptly kicked out of after he asked about Virgil. Roman hissed curses under his breath as he walked out. He wondered why they’d done something like that. Surely, they could see how worried he was, but…Roman stopped on his way to the next stop. Maybe Patton had used a different name, lying wasn’t his strong point, but in light of having someone’s death on his hands, the bartender may have done something he’d never have had to do before…lie.

Roman checked six more places, exactly like the first with similar results. The hunter finally returned to Joan, slumping down with a tired sigh beside the bartender. Joan leaned back a little on the steps and took a drink from a glass full of clear, amber liquid, letting out a small grunt accompanied by a smile.

“That was a fruitless venture”, Roman grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as Joan let a chuckle resonate from them. “What? What’s so funny?”

“You walked right past your own horse and completely wasted two hours of your time”, Joan said, sniggering a little as an angry blush rushed to Roman’s cheeks.

“You...I…argh”, Roman let out a frustrated growl, collapsing onto the stairs in a boneless fashion. Joan laughed at this, a little drunk from the alcohol running through their system.

“You moron”, Joan chuckled, voice soft as Roman let out another groan and covered his face with his hands. It was at this point when Joan cracked up in laughter at Roman’s utter hopelessness, the alcohol causing the bartender to react more than they usually would. Joan’s laughter echoed through the street, triggering people to turn around at the sound. Roman didn’t do anything, for once keeping his mouth shut and allowing the bartender’s happiness to pour over him in waves. The laughter began to die and at this point Roman pulled his hands away and looked up at the darkening sky above. It felt like ages since he’d sat still. Not riding a horse, not firing his pistol, not asleep or eating or drinking or talking. Just listening with bated breath as the world moved on around him. It was peaceful like this, quiet and tranquil.

“There you two are”, a voice said and Roman lifted his head off the stairs, giving Patton a small wave as Joan let a smile slip onto their face.

“Hey’a Patton. How’s Virge doin’?”, Joan asked, voice a little slurred as alcohol sloshed through their system. Patton sighed and shook his head, looking over at Roman for some sympathy or support but finding only amusement in Roman’s eyes as the man looked up at Joan, hand clasped over his mouth to mask a small chuckle.

“Virgil is doing better now. Did you two find somewhere to stay?”, Patton asked, sighing a little and rolling his eyes as Joan attempted to stand, their legs more like water than the bone, veins, and muscle they should be.

“Sure did. Voila”, Joan said as they turned around and gestured to the establishment. Patton clasped a hand over his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his spectacles before swallowing, sighing and grabbing Joan’s arm.

“I’m taking you inside to sleep and when you wake up we’re talking about your alcohol tolerance levels. Honestly, you should know. You’re a bartender”, Patton muttered as he dragged the other bartender inside, poking his head back to look Roman in the eyes. “Roman, I need you to go check on Virge in the morning. He’s not stable at the moment, but he’ll need someone to ground him tomorrow and I’ll be looking after Joan so…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle him. He’s just from out of town so I doubt he’ll be too unstable”, Roman murmured, taking Joan’s glass and sipping from what was left of the liquor.

“Oh, right. You don’t know. Virge is an outlaw”, Patton said watching with a little disgust and disdain as Roman spat the drink out with wide eyes.

“He’s a what?”

Logan laughed softly as Anthony’s face pressed against his arm. The younger of the Lilac brothers had passed out on their way home and although it was a nuisance to have to take care of the boy while he was asleep Logan had to admit his brother was utterly adorable when he was unconscious. The hunter brushed some of Anthony’s dark hair away from his face, soft as newly grown grass. The boy’s face wrinkled up a little, contorting at the touch as his dreams were interrupted.

“Hush, hush”, the elder whispered as the wind around them slowed to a snail’s pace, comforting warm breezes filling the air instead of the usual hot winds that swept all manner of rocks and sand into the sky, flinging them in the direction of the unlucky passer-by’s faces. The sun hadn’t descended just yet, the pale cobalt blue of the sky still drenched with the white rays of light the sun blessed the world with.

The only sound for miles upon miles was that of the wind rattling the sand across the barren wasteland they called the desert, and the younger siblings breathing. Even the horse’s hooves had grown silent by comparison to these things, trotting along without a care in the world. Dust blew softly against Logan’s cheeks as he pulled Anthony’s face into his shirt, stopping the dust from disturbing the young boy's sleep. The small rocks scratched his cheeks, wind biting at the exposed skin.

Akers town loomed over them, shadows cast by the wooden sign swallowing the brothers as they passed beneath it, wary of the suddenly silent township. Logan frowned and fingered the hilt of his pistol, leather covered digits running through the smooth grooves and valleys in the dull metal. He was torn between waking Anthony and leaving the boy be, but he’d need both of his hands should there be a fight. Logan lifted his hand off the pistol, moving his body so he could wake his brother.

“Logan”, a voice spoke up, shattering the silence and causing Logan to whip around, disturbing Anthony’s rest for a second before the Lilac boy slipped back into the recesses of sleep.

“Thomas. What’s going on? Where is everyone?”, Logan asked softly as the traveler moved closer, hands clasped behind his back and a concerned frown marring his face.

“Everyone’s at home. It’s too hot for most people, but when I walked over to your house this fine afternoon I found you had vacated the premises”, Thomas said, voice soft as his eyes wandered over to the sleeping boy at the hunter’s side. “I presume you left for training.”

“You presume correctly. I have indeed been training my brother. He has taken quite the interest in my career. Why are you out here though? If most people are at home as you suggest, should you not also be at home”, Logan murmured quietly as he pushed Anthony off the boy’s horse and saddled the younger up behind him.

Thomas nodded a little, eyes flicking to the ground before a lie was formed on his lips, “I decided to come here to wait for you. There was an outlaw. They tried to hurt your father, but I was there when they came. I gave them a wound to their side and they fled. I was sure they would either return for revenge or you would and then I would be able to tell you.”

Logan frowned a little at this. Something wasn’t right about Thomas’ story, he could sense a flaw in it, but he was more relieved that the man had kept his father safe. “Thank you. For saving my father. I…I owe you a great debt of gratitude.”

“It was nothing. I merely did my duty. We must protect those who cannot protect themselves, am I right?”, Thomas asked, a small smirk slipping onto his face as Logan’s lips were pulled into a smile.

“Exactly my point. Why didn’t you go to Roman though?”, Logan asked and Thomas stiffened a little as the story began to unravel.

“Oh, Roman has…been out the past day or so. I couldn’t find him anywhere in town and you were the next best option”, Thomas murmured, swallowing a little and trying to think up an excuse in case the previous one didn’t fall through.

“Oh, that would explain why his horse was missing. Thank you for telling me. I will not leave the town until he returns”, Logan said, beginning to move his horse forward, Anthony’s trailing along behind him.

“Uh, Logan?”, Thomas spoke up, choosing to walk alongside the horse as Logan walked it past the still closed bar.

“Yes, Thomas?”, Logan asked, looking down at Thomas from atop his horse as the beast moved on.

“You said you…you owed me so I was wondering…uh, would you be opposed to perhaps…spending the afternoon with me tomorrow?”, Thomas asked and Logan stopped his horse.

“I…I suppose I could. I did promise my father I’d find a spouse by the end of the month. Yes…yes, I would be honored to spend the afternoon with you tomorrow”, Logan said, turning to smile down at Thomas warmly as the wind picked up a little, a hot breeze blowing past the two and lifting Logan’s hat off his head. Logan reached out to grab it as it danced out of his hands and was pushed away from him. Thomas stumbled forward, reaching out and catching the hat as it began to descend to the dusty ground below.

“Here”, Thomas said, a small smile causing his lips to twitch as he looked up at Logan, brushing the hat off as he lifted it up towards the hunter.

“Thank you”, the hunter murmured as he took the hat and looked down at the fabric and leather in his hands.

“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then, right?”, Thomas asked as he began to walk backward, away from the horses and riders. He tripped backward, falling onto his back as Logan looked up, stifling a laugh as Thomas brushed himself off, turning around to make sure it didn’t happen again.

“Are you alright?”, Logan asked as he pushed his horse forward and up to Thomas who was limping a little from the harsh impact.

“Sorry, you weren’t meant to see that”, Thomas said as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, eyes focused on the uneven ground.

“No, I…I found it a little amusing if I’m honest. It’s good to know you’re actually human”, Logan said softly, humor tinting his voice.

“Glad to know my pain cause you some happiness”, Thomas said with a chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I apologize. I should not be finding such amusement in your pain”, Logan said with a chuckle of his own. Thomas looked up and for a second his heart melted at the sight, steeling over as he remembered why he was doing what he was doing. Magenta needed to be taken out of the picture and he had to do it. King was out of town, Virgil was as good as dead, Patton would be with him so no one would be back before the end of the week. That’d be plenty of time to steal the intellectual’s heart and crush the younger Lilac.

“It’s fine. I…I enjoy your laugh”, Thomas murmured, looking back at the ground, but sneaked a glance up to check on the hunter. Logan’s usually stoic expression had turned into a bashful one, rose tinging his cheeks a little as he looked down at his horse’s mane. Thomas stopped walking and stared at the sight, it was rare to see the older Lilac smiling, let alone blushing the way he was right now. It’d make this battle so much easier now he was gaining more information about his opponent.

“I…thank you. No one has complimented my laugh before. You too have an exquisite laugh, and I do enjoy your sense of humor”, Logan mumbled, as he looked down at Thomas with a small smile. Thomas felt his heart stop a little, stutter and accelerate as blood rushed to his cheeks. He’d never been very good at taking compliments and it was even worse when the one complimenting him was someone he was not supposed to be falling for.

“I…uh”, Thomas coughed and cleared his throat, “I should be going now. Till tomorrow.”

“Till tomorrow”, Logan whispered as Thomas walked away, cursing himself for allowing himself to feel that moment of weakness in front of his enemy.

Anthony frowned from behind his brother, scowling at the blurry, retreating form of Thomas Saderson. He didn’t like the man, but he’d made his brother blush. If Thomas could make Logan happy…Anthony sighed and resigned himself to the fact that if Thomas and his brother made each other happy, he’d support their budding relationship.

Acknowledgments/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx (@lowkeysalient ) and @sea-blue-child

As always, send an ask, message me or ask in the notes to be put in the acknowledgments (tags)

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #analogical #royality

2 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Chapter 9: Breakfast and Blood

A/N: So this time we’ll be adding warnings this time. So... warning for guns and blood.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (not yet implemented)

Word Count: 4500+

“You what?”, Logan asked, giving the smaller of the Lilac brothers a confused and somewhat shocked look, eyebrows raising a little at the boy’s words.

“I said, Roman came over and-”

“Yes, yes. I heard that, but you let in strangers. That’s dangerous, you know that”, Logan chided, stepping back to the stove as he fried up eggs for breakfast, oil spitting a little under the once transparent liquid that now appeared a milky white.

“But they were with Roman. Roman would have shot them before they tried anything”, Anthony protested, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms and a pout. He had liked Joan and had told Roman he would tell Logan about their visit.

“They were still strangers, granted if Roman knew them they might have been trustworthy. I just still find it hard to believe you’d let strangers into the house”, Logan muttered, taking the hot pan off the stovetop and beginning to serve up the cooked eggs. Toast laid underneath, a sponge for the oncoming, runny gold that would come from the cooked egg.

“Roman said they were good people”, Anthony mumbled, taking his plate from the elder and cutting into the egg, smiling a little as the yolk ran out of the pale dome, thick, rich yellow that poured from the egg in a waterfall fashion. The toast soaked up a little of it as Anthony pushed his fork down on the top of the dome, smiling a little wider as more of the rich yellow flowed evenly from the egg.

“Roman may have said that, but they could have tricked him. I’d prefer if you didn’t invite people in without my consent, because as much as I trust Roman and his judgment I’d prefer to inspect who comes and goes myself”, Logan murmured, eyes shifting from his brother to his food and back up to his brother. Brown flickered with concern behind black-rimmed glasses while dark brown dulled a little with sadness and guilt.

“You know what’s best, Lo”, Anthony mumbled sadly, eyes stuck to his food as he picked at it guiltily, smile gone.

“Anthony…I don’t want to be harsh, but…I don’t know if I’ll always be there to protect you. It scares me how easy it would be for someone to attack you because they have Roman or father’s blessing to come inside. I’d rather you know that not everyone is good than have you grow up thinking the world is all sunshine and rainbows”, Logan said, voice soft as he reached out and gently took his younger brother’s hand. Anthony looked up at him and took his hand away, moving off his seat with a sigh and walking to Logan, enveloping the elder in a tight hug. Logan pulled his brother in tightly, reciprocating the gesture with the same amount of love, pain, and guilt.

“I’m sorry, Lo”, Anthony mumbled and Logan pulled back, taking Anthony’s hands in his own and giving him a look of concern and happiness.

“It’s alright. Just…be careful when I’m away. Father isn’t getting better anytime soon and I’d hate for anything to happen to you while I was away”, Logan muttered, pulling his brother close and pressing his warm lips against the young boy’s temple. Anthony shivered a little and butted his head softly against his brother’s lips. Logan pulled back and looked the younger in his eyes, smiling before ushering the boy back to his seat. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”

Anthony gave his brother a puzzled look, “For what?”

“For our outing today. You still want to learn how to shoot, right?”, Logan asked, chuckling a little as Anthony’s eyes lit up like a fire in the night, sparkling like stars as he pressed his hands to the white table cloth. His smile had grown wide, eyes fixed on his brother. Logan pointed his fork at the younger boy’s egg and toast. “Eat up.”

Anthony didn’t need to be told twice, practically inhaling the eggs without a second thought and tearing the toast apart. Logan let out a little laugh at the boy’s rapid movements, breakfast gone not a minute later. There was a little yolk on the no longer pristine white table cloth, but Logan didn’t mind washing it off. He hoped it wouldn’t stain, but it was worth it to see his brother so alive again.

“Done. Let’s go”, Anthony cried out, running to wash the plate and cutlery, moving as fast as he could to clean up after himself. Logan watched on with a bemused expression, wonder and curiosity filling his eyes as he watched on. Anthony stopped his frantic movements for a second to look at Logan.

“Are you getting ready or not?”, Anthony asked before he moved back to cleaning, eyes dancing with hope and excitement. Logan chuckled, he had to give his brother applause for the effort and change in demeanor. The eggs on his plate were gone in seconds flat, mouth wiped clean and plate washed before his brother knew what was happening.

“You should hurry up, Anthony”, Logan teased lightly as he walked to grab his saddle bag and horse. Anthony watched on in surprise and shock. His brother was fast, he’d give him that, Anthony would have to step up his game.

“You…you eat like Roman”, Anthony called out as Logan stepped out of the door.

“You learn how to do that”, Logan called back, laughter in his voice as he moved off to the stables. Anthony finished the dishes quickly, grabbing what he needed and racing out after his older brother.

Logan was already atop his horse by the time Anthony made it to the stables, his brother’s horse attached to his own as he walked the pair out. Anthony was quick to push himself up and untie his horse from Logan’s, pulling the creature away from the other horse and smiling at his brother. The smile faded as he looked up to the window of their father’s room.

“What about father?”, Anthony asked quietly and Logan looked back at his brother.

“I gave him his medicine last night and he should be either well enough to take care of the basic necessities or get another spoonful of the concoction the chemist whipped up”, Logan said softly, eyes moving from his brother to his father’s window and back again, “we should get going, though. The sooner we leave the more time we get together.”

Anthony nodded at his brother’s sound logic and pushed his horse off. Even if he wanted to stay and make sure his father continued to recover, the thrill and happiness he received from being with his brother was more than enough to push thoughts of his foster father out of his mind. The only thing that didn’t make sense to him was how his father could have gotten the sickness in the first place, that exact thought ran through the backs of the brother’s minds as they rode towards the town centre, dust clouding behind them.

The sun moved across the land, daring them to follow in its harsh rays and golden light. Birds called from The Green as they passed it, splashing coming from the river as they turned to it, wading their horses through the rushing stream and out to the other side. Anthony cupped his hands around his mouth, horse stopping as he made an unrealistic bird call. The boy listened, eyes on the sky and ears sharp, waiting for another freedom seeker to return the call. Logan looked back, horse stopping as he watched his brother with interest. A small smile pricked the ends of his lips, turning them upwards as he too cupped his hands, letting out a more realistic sound, however broken it might have been. Anthony looked at his brother, the sun rising in front of them and causing the elder to gain a somewhat ethereal glow. Logan looked back at him with a smile and Anthony could only smile back as bird calls filled the air, feathered beasts taking flight into the baby blue, sun-stained sky.

They rode on, stopping briefly for refreshments and rest as the sun bore down on them, hot rays burning their insides and scorching their eyes. The time dragged by, falling through the cracks in the day as they rode, sand rushing up behind them in clouds. Crow Ridge loomed up out of the sand, black skeletal ruins jutted out of the glistening brown like broken, scorched ribs the heart and lungs of which had been just as burned, turned to ash in the conflagration of myths passed.

“Want to practice on the mill?”, Logan asked, turning in his saddle to look back at Anthony. The younger of the two nodded, pushing his horse closer to his brother’s and then further, taking the lead as the blackened sand turned under steel horseshoes. Black, charred wood turned to dust under hoof as the still smoke-filled air settled heavy in their lungs. They trekked to the old schoolhouse. The mill was where it should have been, rusty blades dull in the sun, creaking ever so slightly as the wind ran through the metal construct. “I’ll tie up the horses, you get practicing.”

Logan passed Anthony one of his pistols, the smaller of the three he carried on his person. Anthony slid of his horse as Logan grabbed the stallion’s reins, pulling the horse along behind his mare and dismounting close to the fence. Anthony pulled out his small pistol, checking over the firearm then looking between his and his brother’s. His own looked more like a cheap imitation, dark metal covering the intricate workings while the leather that wrapped around the base seemed much faker and darker than Logan’s. Logan’s pistol was, as to be expected of someone that brought in outlaws for a living, top of the line. Shining silver metal carved with intricate designs and burned with his initials.

“How much d’you pay for this?”, Anthony mumbled, turning it over and putting his own away, taking the firearm in both hands and holding it up to the sun, watching as the sunlight melted into the grooves and changed the metal into melted gold.

“A small fortune. It’s one of the better ones I own, but I don’t use it as much. For what it’s worth its rubbish”, Logan murmured, tying the horses up and setting out some water for them which they drank gratefully.

“Why’d you get it then? If it’s so bad, why don’t you return it or sell it?”, Anthony asked, turning the firearm over and running his fingers over the warm metal.

“First off, I didn’t mean to get it, Roman go it for me. Second, since Roman got it for me I’m not just going to pawn it off to someone else”, Logan said, eyes wandering to the rusty blades as he moved over to his brother’s side. Sand danced around them as the wind picked up, black and red swirling under their feet, pushing past them and up the hill.

“Why did Roman get you a pistol?”, Anthony asked, ice hidden in the depths of his mumbled question.

“We’d just finished our first big job. Killed in a man named Jeffrey Colesman in a gunfight and earned a large sum for our troubles”, Logan said, picking the gun gently out of his younger brother’s hands and cocking it towards the windmill. He pulled the trigger and the duo heard a small clang of metal hitting metal. Logan dropped the pistol back into Anthony’s waiting hands with a small smirk on his face.

“Can I…can I hear more about your jobs?”, Anthony asked, looking up at his brother, who nodded softly and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. Anthony cocked the gun and fired at the mill, trying again as Logan began to talk. Stories of famous outlaws and minor thieves getting their comeuppance flowing easily as Anthony tried again and again to hit one of the rusty blades. The sun moving high overhead as finally one of the bullets hit the metal. Anthony let out a cry of happiness and Logan clapped slowly, a smile adorning his face.

Roman yawned and turned over in his bed, mumbling softly as he opened his eyes and tried to swat the sunlight that was streaming through his window away. It was a fruitless venture, but he tried it regardless only to have his hand fall heavily onto his chest. He licked his lips and blinked wearily as the world came into focus around him. His room, his bed, his friend, his chair…Joan? There they were standing at his door with a small smile on their face.

“Finally awake, huh?”, they asked, looking down at Roman with a smirk. Roman groaned and turned over, pulling his pillow over his head and mumbling into his sheets. Joan just rolled their eyes and made a move towards the bed, arms crossed over their chest. “Get up. Tal’s making breakfast for us and I’ll eat all of yours if you don’t.”

“Why’s Talyn making breakfast?”, Roman asked through a yawn, pulling his head out from under the pillow and looking back at the bartender.

“They got up before us, something about wanting to leave so they can check on their bar and they were nice enough to make us some before they left. So, get up and get out there to thank them before they leave”, Joan growled, making Roman start a little and look back at them.

“Gee, you two sure are close”, Roman muttered under his breath as he rolled out of his bed and stood up, stretching and listening contentedly to the popping of his joints.

“We’re friends, that’s all. Now hurry up, I’ll be leaving shortly after to make sure my bar’s still there”, Joan said before disappearing out of the door and closing it behind them. Roman grunted softly as he got dressed, pulling his coat over his shoulders and attaching his pistols to his sides.

“Never know when you’ll need to defend someone”, Roman said with a smirk, reaching for his door and opening it swiftly, smiling as he heard laughter from the kitchen. He walked into the light-yellow room and sighed as the smell of cooked apples filled the air, accompanied by cinnamon and sugar. His mouth watered a little as he took the seat across from Joan, looking over at the bartender’s plate and eyeing the apple mixture that sat in a small bowl next to some toast. Joan was munching on a piece of toast happily, eyes glancing around the room, moving from the mahogany cabinet to the china plates on the shelf near where Talyn was scrubbing a small pot in the sink.

“I can do that for you. If you two need to leave, I can clean up”, Roman offered and Talyn looked over, smiling a little at the man before going back to scrubbing.

“It’s fine, Roman. Thank you for letting us stay the night”, Talyn said, putting the pot down and walking over to grab a cloth covered tray.

“Have you eaten yet?”, Roman asked and Talyn nodded softly, setting the tray down in front of Roman and taking the cloth off. Roman’s eyes widened at the large amount of food. Jam and apple in twin bowls, toast still warm on a plate to the side, a glass of water, some scrambled eggs in a shallow bowl, and silver cutlery set to the side of the tray, a small white napkin stuck out under the silver utensils. “How…how long did this take you?”

“A little while. You like it?”, Talyn asked, tucking the cloth under one arm and heading back to the pot.

“Yeah…yeah this is amazing”, Roman complimented, looking at Joan who gave him a smirk.

“You should have seen them when we had guests over who slept in. I remember one time you made a banquet for five people”, Joan said, relishing in the fact that Roman like Talyn’s cooking.

“Oh, hush you. It wasn’t anything too big and it was mostly raw”, Talyn murmured, scrubbing the pot a little harsher and hiding a smile.

“But it was amazing and now Roman knows. You’ll come visit Tal, right Roman?”, Joan said giving Roman an icy smile. Roman nodded and swallowed before digging into the food.

“Oh, I’ll definitely visit, especially if you give me food like this”, Roman said, swallowing some apple and toast with a smile. Talyn turned and flashed him a small smile of their own at Roman. Joan coughed a little and offered up a small smirk, humming lightly before they stood and walked over to the other bartender.

“Move. I’ll finish you go get ready”, Joan muttered and Talyn moved out of the way, walking past Roman and to their room after offering the hunter an eye roll. Roman chuckled a little and continued to eat.

“I’ll come with you two. Might as well, am I right?”, Roman said as he finished up the last of the food, patting his stomach softly and smiling as the food sat comfortably.

“Sounds good to me, you can come and see where we work and live. We’ll drop Talyn off first though, they’ve been away from their bar for longer than I have”, Joan muttered and Roman nodded, standing and taking the tray over to where Joan was.

“Leave it out and I’ll finish it off tonight”, Roman said with a smile. Joan gave him a nod and moved away from the sink, wiping their hands on a towel and walking towards the doorway as Roman began to fill the bowls and glass with water.

“I’ll get freshened up a bit and we can head out”, Joan said, leaving the room as Roman hummed lightly in response. Roman dried off his hands and walked to his bedroom, gathering his knife and a few extra bullets before exiting his room and walking to the front door. Talyn and Joan were already waiting there for him, chatting softly as Joan leaned on the wall.

“Ready?”, Roman asked as he looked between the two. Talyn gave him a smile while Joan gave him a smirk, pulling off the wall and shuffling out of the way of the door.

“After you, my liege”, Joan said, bowing deeply as Talyn chuckled. Roman rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

“I haven’t heard that nickname in ages”, Roman muttered, turning the handle and holding the door open or the other two before closing the door and walking down the path to the gate with the two outsiders. They three walked down the hill sun high in the sky as they neared the bar, horses in sight. Roman sighed as he remembered he’d lent his horse to Patton, maybe he’d let the two leave without him.

“Roman, you alright? You look a little down”, Talyn said and Roman shook his head.

“I lent my horse to a friend so I won’t be able to come with you”, Roman sighed before Joan chuckled, looking down at him from atop his horse.

“You can ride with me and we’ll just bring you back. I don’t mind riding home alone and I have my pistol in case I get jumped”, Joan said with a smile.

“Sounds good, I guess. So, I ride with you. Stay a night and come back tomorrow”, Roman planned out his trip to Joan’s. Talyn chuckled a little and set off, leaving the two in the dust.

“You coming or what?”, they called back as they sped off, James neighing lightly as his brown mane whipped Talyn’s hands as the laughed a little, covering their mouth with their bandanna and looking out into the sun-drenched desert. Joan called out for them to wait as Roman jumped up behind them, gripping Joan’s shoulders and calling out for Joan to ‘follow that horse’.

Joan’s mare whinnied as they slowed down, dust rising on a ridge a little way off. The group stopped to look at the dust cloud moving fast through the desert.

“What’s that?”, Talyn asked softly, eyes focused on the cloud as it slowed a little, two horses moving out of it and stopping before heading off again a second later.

“Looks like it’s just two travelers, like us”, Joan murmured, kicking their horse and setting off once more as the black and brown horses moved away from them.

Virgil kicked Di harder, not caring as Patton let out a screech behind him, his own horse struggling to keep up with Di’s speed. Di was at her limits as well, but Virgil didn’t care. The anger within him was boiling, swirling, pulsing through his veins and infecting his heart. It screamed in his head and made the world around him turn red. If he could have, he’d have stopped himself. He’d seen this anger before, not once or twice but multiple times. It was detrimental, suicidal thinking that drove outlaws and innocents alike into a murderous rage. Part of him wanted to stop Di, slow her and show her that he was just trying to help someone. The rest of him, the majority of him that burned with the swelling anger wanted, no…needed to get to Akers town and fast, no matter the cost.

Patton screamed behind him, calling for him to wait as dust and sand was throw into the bartender’s face. His horse reared to the side a little, finally catching up to Di and Virgil. Patton was just about to yell at him, anger coursing through him at the prospect of being left behind, when he saw the rage in Virgil’s eyes. The outlaw’s jaw was clenched tightly, cheeks red as the blood simmered behind the skin and lips ran taunt against a snarl. His eyes held a fury like nothing the bartender had seen before; cold as the desert night, yet hot as the blue fire of a bonfire. Patton clammed up, swallowing back his words and turning his face to look at his horse’s mane. The stallion, Cameron by name, was puffing slightly, muscles rippling under a silky brown coat. Nothing like Virgil’s sleek black mare, with her perfect physique and well-toned body, perfect for such journeys.

The sun was beating down on them, warming Patton and the icy dread that had curled up in his stomach. The day was half over and he had yet to talk to Virgil about the trip to Akers town. They’d travelled the night away and Patton was beyond tired at this point, head and eyes screaming for rest while his body felt like lead in the saddle. He’d never done this much cantering before in such a short amount of time, and he’d be damned if he ever did a trip like this again, but Virgil’s anger, his determination, his fighter spirit got to Patton. It cooled the rays of sun, melted the dread and filled him up with a newfound fire, a blaze of his own. Akers town was in sight and in a rush of stupid, foolhardy excitement Patton pushed Cameron to the town’s entrance, leaving Virgil in the dust. That was the first thing, and only thing, Virgil remembered of the entire trip.

They pulled their horses reins, slowing to a walk as they reached the bar. The town was clear of people, most likely due to the unbearable heat that had set upon the desert. Outside of the bar the trough had been dried, water completely evaporated in the burning heat leaving nothing but exposed, dirty metal. Virgil’s eyes darted from the bartender to the hill, narrowing at the Lilac house before he let out a cry and jammed the heels of his boots into Di’s sides. Di shot off, black mane rippling in the wind as sand was blown back, hot wind pushing the luscious hair to the side. Patton followed, icy dread filling his stomach once more as the pair journeyed up the hill. The horses struggled on the rocks, unused to the unstable terrain, but both persevered. Hooves clattered against the rocks, a spark flying loose as one hit a flint rock.

The Lilac house stood still, a white towering monster atop dry grass. Virgil pulled Di to a stop, slipping off and racing to the door in record time. He stopped, face red from the heat and anger, worry sinking his heart to his stomach as the door stood ajar. He could hear Patton growling a little in the background as he tied the horses to the Lilac property fence, focused more on the task than why the pair were here. Virgil surged forward, moving past the door and stopping to listen for footsteps of any kind. Soft thuds emanated from upstairs and Virgil pulled out his pistol, reloading the weapon and moving up the stairs as silently as possible.

The landing above was clear of potential threats, but Thomas was an outlaw boss, there was no way he’d not have head Virgil come in. The outlaw studied the three doors that laid ahead of him; baby blue, navy blue, and peeling white. He crept towards the navy, the furthest from the stairs and the only one with a brass handle, the others holding wooden handles painted with their respective colours. The door creaked open as he twisted the knob, pistol held tight in his grasp. He sniffed and turned away, the room was neat with one book shelf on the far wall, a white windowsill, a small desk opposite the oak bed and a large trunk at the foot of the bed. The door was closed quietly behind him and Virgil made his way to the white door as he heard a sound downstairs, most likely Patton. He wished the man wouldn’t make so much noise, but it was too late now.

The door was heavier, but there was a succession of coughs coming from behind it that indicated life. Virgil pushed it open, pistol trained on the only source of life within the confines of the four walls. An old man in a bed, salt and pepper hair splayed across a white pillow. The man looked up at him and Virgil lowered his gun, realizing the old man was David Lilac. Virgil gave the man a soft smile as the man’s eyes moved to the door. The outlaw sighed and moved closer to the bed, David’s eyes widening a little in a pleading way.

“Sorry, old man. Thought you were someone else.”

“And who, perchance, did you think he was?”, a voice like silk asked from behind the door. Virgil’s eyes widened and he spun around, pain erupting from his side as something tore through his flesh. He smelt gunpowder, heard a cry of alarm and a gunshot, this time further away. His hand touched his side as he felt his body meet wood. He brought his fingers up to his face to look at them. Something wet dripped onto his cheek, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe it away. Why was his hand red? Why did his side hurt? Why did his side hurt so much?

He let out a scream.

Acknowledgements/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx ( @lowkeysalient ) and @sea-blue-child

Asks, messages and notes are all good to ask if you can be put in the acknowledgements (tags)

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #analogical #royality

2 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Chapter 8: Crystal Paintings and Killing Plans

A/N: Second one for today. Three tomorrow and then two every day from then on until we get to the final chapter.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (not yet implemented)

Word Count: 6300+

“So, this is Logan’s home now. I remember when it was so run down the wood panels would fall off the walls if you touched them wrong”, Joan murmured as the three followed Anthony through the house and into the living room.

“Crystal really helped fix the place up. When she died Logan took over and did most of the maintenance, I helped out and so did Anthony. The place just kept getting better and better, but since Logan and I are hunters now it’s been harder to maintain upkeep with just Anthony to do it”, Roman responded, running a hand over one of the frames around one of the many landscape paintings. A picture of golden fields for as far as the painter could have seen blew wildly, yellow stalks twisting as the wind whipped them about. The sun peeked out behind dark grey clouds, rays caressing the beautiful shining wheat. There were thin lines of white and blue in the clouds, lightning sprinting through the painting. It was so real, yet the picture held so much significance to the Lilac household.

“How…how did Mrs Lilac…how did Crystal die?”, Joan asked, stopping and waiting as Talyn walked past them and into the living room. Roman stopped beside them and gave them a pitying look.

“She was painting and just…dropped dead. Heart attack, the mortician said”, Roman murmured and Joan felt their heart drop at the words. Crystal had been beautiful, more than just a pretty face in the crowd. She was a wonderful person with a loving heart and smile to light up the darkest room.

“When?”, Joan asked as memories flooded their mind, images of Crystal baking, cleaning, smiling all coming back in waves, crashing over all other thoughts and drowning the bartender in sadness.

“Fifteen years ago”, Roman muttered, feeling his brow furrow at the words.

“And how old is Anthony?”

“Twelve. David adopted him twelve years ago when Logan and I were just starting out as hunters. He was so small. I remember Logan picking him up”, Roman motioned with his hands as small tears began to bead at the corners of his eyes, hands cupping the air as if he were holding a child, “he said, ‘This is going to be my brother Roman. I want you to take care of him as if he were me, as if he were your brother. Because my father won’t be doing any work to raise him. His name is Anthony and I want him to have the best life I can give him.’ It was so cheesy it worked. We were thirteen, stupid and naïve. We couldn’t handle raising a child, but we did and now Anthony is as much Logan’s brother as Logan is his father, mother and closest family member.”

“I guess things do change in twenty years”, Joan mumbled and Roman let out a dry chuckle, lips quirking upwards.

“Yeah. Things have changed. It’s a pity you weren’t here to see them”, Roman muttered as the pair moved off. Talyn’s head poked around the corner of the door, hand beckoning them into the living room where Anthony sat waiting for stories his brother and Roman refused to tell.

“Tell me ‘bout when Logan learned to shoot”, Anthony said happily and Roman chuckled at the fond memories. Joan looked at Anthony with as much warmth as they could muster, taking a seat on the white couch with the boy cradled next to them.

“Logan and Roman learned how to use a pistol when we were eight. I didn’t learn until I was twelve, but I assume that you two kept training since you’re both hunters now”, Joan said, making Roman nod as he took a seat in the large green chair that David usually took.

“Where’s your father?”, Roman asked, looking around the room for the elderly man.

“Upstairs in bed. He caught a cold and Logan’s out getting medicine. Back to the stories”, Anthony said quickly and Joan chuckled at the small being’s insistence on the sharing of memories. Joan began to weave the tales, eyes lighting up as words spilled forth from the recesses of their mind. Stories flowed freely as Anthony sat near the bartender, eyes wide as he listened to Joan’s words, rooted to the couch even as the sky began to darken, sunlight no longer shining on the road and turning the pebbles in glittering jewels. Roman smiled as another story was woven, this time of the first time Logan hurt himself. Roman remembered the day well he could practically hear it, smell it, feel it. Logan’s soft cries, hiccupping as tears trailed down puffy red cheeks, blood leaking from a gash in his calf. Roman’s hands steadying the smaller boy as he cried into his shirt, Joan wrapping gauze around Logan’s leg tightly. It had hurt them all to see one of their group injured; Joan’s broken arm, Logan’s scraped knees, Roman’s…well pretty much anything Roman did when he was young ended with him losing at least a quarter inch of skin from some part of his body.

“I think we should get you two back to my place. It’s getting pretty dark and I’m sure Logan will be around tomorrow”, Roman murmured, standing from the green chair, eyes focused on the window displaying various tones of blue, pink, orange and purple. The hues stretched far across the sky, blending into one another in a picturesque moment that only those on the hill would be able to witness properly. If Crystal were here…if Crystal were here she’d paint it so wonderfully it’d look like a colored photograph.

“Already?”, Anthony whined, voice high as he gripped Joan’s shirt and coat for dear life, eyes wide and mouth pouty. It was obvious the boy was enjoying their company, that much was to be assured. Joan ruffled Anthony’s wild, fluffy black locks, chuckling as they did while Anthony’s hand swatted at theirs. “Stop that”, Anthony complained, pushing Joan’s hand away with a grumpy pout that made his cheeks puff up, arms crossed over his chest as if daring the bartender to try again.

“You’re so cute”, Joan groaned softly, reaching out for another attempt when Anthony pushed his hand away, refusing the advance with haste.

“Stop, only Lo can do that”, Anthony growled a little and Roman chuckled, obviously used to the small boy’s antics.

“Indeed. Tell Logan I dropped by with two friends and that we’ll be back tomorrow”, Roman said, smile spreading over his face and head tipping as he turned from the couch, heavy boot connecting with the wooden floor as he stepped out of the living room. Joan stood, holding a hand out as Anthony pushed himself off the couch, small hand gripping the large one as his legs wobbled a little, disuse getting the better of them. Talyn let out a small coo of happiness at the cute sight as they got out of the red chair, turning and walking out after Roman quickly after, eyes focusing on door as the other bartender followed their lead. Anthony tugged on Joan’s sleeve a little, face blushing red as the bartender sunk to the ground, legs bent to support their weight. Anthony looked up from the floor, dark eyes finding Joan’s before a smile spread across the boy’s face. The boy turned around, running back into the living room as Joan stayed crouched, shocked the boy had run from them. Roman watched, Talyn by his side, hand on the brass doorknob already turned and ready to leave the Lilac house.

“Take this with you”, Anthony said as he ran out of the living room, a piece of paper clutched to his small chest, flapping wildly in the small rush of wind. Anthony stopped in front of Joan, clasping the paper in both hands before sticking them out for the bartender to take. Joan gave him a confused smile before taking the paper and looking it over. Three faces smiled back at them, short gangly arms slung around small shoulders as dark and sandy hair flapped in the wind. Joan felt their heart plummet at the picture, or more specifically the people in the picture. The signature that stood in the bottom of the picture was barely legible, but they could tell who had painted this. Crystal Lilac, what a woman. With only a paintbrush and a sheet of yellowed paper she had captured the three-boy’s youth in one, colour filled painting.

“This…this is us”, Joan murmured, hand coming up from the picture to clasp their mouth, tear beginning to accumulate at the edges of their eyes.

“Dad told me to keep it a secret when I found it. He told me never to tell Lo about it”, Anthony said, looking down at the floor as Joan raised themselves from their crouched position, straightening as they wiped their eyes, driving the tears away before they had a chance to descend down their cheeks. Anthony didn’t seem to notice this, eyes firmly planted on the ground as he swayed back and forth a little, rocking as one might do if nervous, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. Talyn gripped Joan’s arm reassuringly, taking in the slightly distraught appearance of the other bartender before tugging the taller back to their senses.

“Th-thank you”, Joan stuttered out, clasping the dry hand over their mouth while the other pulled the picture to their chest, flattening it out over their heart. Anthony gave the tall bartender a confused glance, eyes finally lifting from the ground to look Joan directly in their watering eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know the picture would make you cry, but”, Anthony was cut off as something creaked on the floorboards upstairs, the sound echoing down the stairs and toward the group. “You’d better be going”, Anthony whispered, “my dad won’t like it if he finds out I let strangers…two strangers into the house without his permission.”

Roman nodded and grabbed Talyn’s arm, tugging lightly for the smaller bartender to follow him out the door, dragging Joan along behind them as they walked out after Roman.

“Thank you”, Joan whispered back as the door shut, silencing their thanks and blocking Anthony form sight.

Roman led the group off the Lilac grounds, taking care to look back, checking on Joan as they trundled along down the hill to his house. The bartender was clutching the picture to their chest, eyes fixed on the ground, stumbling every now and again as the rock underneath their feet loosened and slipped away. Talyn seemed to be better, gripping Joan’s arm, clinging to them as if to reassure them that Talyn was there for them.

Roman’s house wasn’t nearly as big or grand as Thomas’ or the Lilacs houses, but it was enough to house him and four other people at best. Logan had spent a few nights out there as well. They’d stargaze under the inky black abyss as tiny luminescent silver specks winked down at them from above. It had been so long since that time. The time of Roman growing up from the age of fifteen without parents. The time of Logan spending his free time helping Roman, educating him in basic housework and self-maintenance. The time of the two-spending time, alone with no worries; no parents, no fathers, no strict guidelines. Just them and the midnight sky above them serving as their guide.

The house itself was two stories tall, white paint peeling off greyed wooden panels on the outside to serve as the outer walls. The garden was wild, untamed with weeds sprouting every which way, brown as the dirt that reared them and dead as the wood that surrounded them. There was a distinct lack of color, yet as the sun shone on the dusty windows over the hills the inside of the house was illuminated and a rainbow of color broke through the minuscule red particles that collected on the window. Chairs of all shades, paintings full of wondrous sights, reds and blues, oranges and greens. All the colors dripped to the wooden flooring, spewing life into the dull brown planks.

“You live here, huh?”, Joan murmured and Roman nodded, a small smile slipping onto his face as he surveyed the house he had called home since he was able to talk.

“It’s not much, I know. But it’s sturdy”, Roman said after a while, silence falling over the group again as they neared the house.

“I…this is the house you used to live in when we were younger, right?”, Joan asked as Roman’s calloused hand clasped the dull bronze handle of the front door. Roman stiffened at the mention of his childhood but nodded curtly anyway.

“Yeah, I…I’ve always lived here. Never felt the need to move anywhere else”, Roman murmured softly, pushing the door open with a squeak from the old, rusty hinges. The dim light of the sun shone past him and into the grey hallway, glinting off framed pictures and glossy paintings.

“When did…when did your parents die?”, Joan asked softly as Talyn walked past the duo and into the kitchen. The sound of water running from a tap secured the knowledge the bartender was looking for something to drink, the sound echoing through the silent house. Roman sniffed, straightened and bit his lip.

“Thirteen years ago”, Roman replied, voice a little harsher than intended. His parent’s death was still a rather sore spot for him and he could feel his soul crying out in pain every time their deaths were mentioned or asked about.

“I…I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Goodness, you’d have been…you were only fifteen”, Joan breathed, hands running over their chin and lips as they tried to grasp the fact that Roman had been orphaned at fifteen.

“You didn’t know. I won’t hold it against you. I wish you’d been here though. After Crystal’s death, a few years before and then mine…we were both wrecks of human beings. We had to lean on each other for support. We couldn’t go to anyone”, Roman whispered, voice a little choked up as the memories of nights spent crying, hurt and pain pouring out of the two boys as they laid together in torturous silence.

“You two want a drink?”, Talyn’s voice called from the kitchen and two heads bolted up to look at the lithe bartender. Brown eyes looked from Roman to Joan and back, concern written deep into delicate features. “I’ll take your combined silence as a yes then.”

The bartender disappeared into the kitchen once more, returning with three glasses and moving into the rainbow coloured room. With the ease that came with serving drinks on a regular basis, they set the glasses down on a small table and took one for themselves, taking a long drink and sighing at the refreshing liquid.

“Thank you, Talyn”, Roman murmured as he took one of the glasses, pressing the cool exterior to his lips before downing the contents. The water splashed the back of his throat, drowning the burning sensation of being close to breaking down.

“Yeah, thanks, Tal”, Joan muttered, taking a seat with their glass and draining the contents until all of the liquid was gone. Roman set his glass down a moment later, clasping his hands together and turning to the pair with a smile.

“Now, for sleeping arrangements”, Roman said and Joan winced a little at the happiness in his voice. It was going to be a long night.

Logan groaned as he slid out of the saddle, medicine in hand as he pulled his horse to the stable for the night. He let his memory stretch to the beginning of the week, moving through the day’s activities one at a time before stopping at today. It had been a rough week for all of them and if things continued like this…he’d have grey hairs before he reached forty.

With a sigh, the elder of the Lilac brothers trampled over grass and rocks, making his way up to the house. The medicine slipped a little in his hand, his grip tightening around the brown bottle as the rocks slipped a little underneath him, loose stones rolling down the hill softly. The sun had set hours ago and Logan could only assume that Anthony would be in bed by now, their fathers coughing the only thing keeping him awake. Sure enough, when Logan entered the house the only sounds within the house were the sounds he made and those his father made. The moon cast an eerie glow in the hallway reminding the hunter of his various nights in the desert with Roman. He wondered if Roman ever looked back on those memories with fondness.

“Logan”, a voice said and Logan jumped, turning quickly and attempting to keep his grip on the medicine bottle. His eyes landed on a sleepy looking Anthony, eyes tired and heavy looking as he stood at the foot of the stairs. He rubbed his eyes, yawning a little before stretching and walking to his older brother.

“Anthony. You scared me. Have you had dinner?”, Logan asked, voice low and soft as he knelt on the ground and looked his brother over. Anthony nodded and wound his arms around his brother’s neck, bringing the elder’s head towards his chest and squeezing a little.

“Yeah, I’ve had dinner. Have you?”, Anthony asked and Logan gave him a hesitant nod as he wound his long arms around Anthony’s shoulders and waist, running one hand through the younger boy’s hair absentmindedly. He twirled the strands around his fingers, pulling gently here and there as the pair breathed in the silence, the understanding, the love.

“You should go to bed. I will give father his medicine, then I’m going to bed”, Logan said softly and Anthony nodded, burying his face in his brother’s hair, soft brown strands tickling his nose as the scent of sweat, dirt, and sand poured off the older man. Pictures of canyons, trees, and the desert filled his mind as the scent swirled through his consciousness, body relaxing into his older brother’s grip. Logan pushed himself up, grabbing Anthony softly and pulling the boy to his chest. With minor effort Logan pulled the boy up and carried him up the stairs, vaguely aware that Anthony was now playing with his hair, hat abandoned on the floor behind them. Logan moved quietly to Anthony’s room, slipping the boy off his body and onto the bed. He turned and stopped as something tugged at his coat.

“Come back, please”, Anthony pleaded softly and Logan couldn’t say no to those innocent, doe eyes. Logan nodded, pressed a loving kiss to his brother’s temple and left to give their father his medicine.

His father’s room was in between his own and Anthony’s, decorated with paintings Logan’s mother had painted. Visions of beauty from their property and all over the town. The Green, the hills, the trees, the bar in its early stages. All had a special painting, framed with a different frame and kept in certain places around David Lilac’s room. If even one went missing, David would know. Logan stepped into his father’s room to the smell of paper, ink, and paint. Even after all these years, the smell of oil paint hung in the air, staining the pure scent of knowledge, tainting it with sadness and longing. It was insufferable, so much so that David was almost never in the room, choosing instead to sleep on the couch in the living room, no matter how bad it was for his back or posture.

“I have your medicine”, Logan muttered, pulling the wooden chair that sat by the side of the Queen-sized bed. The small brown bottle was uncapped and the spoon taken from beside the bed while David wheezed and moaned.

“No”, the old man panted out, growling a little as his son barely looked at him, instead more interested in filling the spoon with the right amount.

“Yes. The sooner you get better, the sooner you can retire to the couch in the living room”, Logan said, eyeing his father briefly before putting the bottle down and holding his hand under the spoon. Logan lent forward, body tilting closer to his father. David gave the medicine in his son’s grasp an evil look and pushed himself back, an idea coming to his mind.

“I’ll take it if you promise me you’ll marry before the next new moon”, David bargained, knowing he’d be smirking and looking his son over smugly if he could. Logan stopped trying to force the medicine, body moving away from the man as he looked down at the medicine in his grasp.

“Father, your bargain is petty. Would you really sacrifice your health to see me wed?”, Logan asked, knowing the answer that was to come.

“Of course. You need to be married. You’re twenty-eight my boy. You’re no spring chicken anymore and I’d rather you marry and stay here than go hunting and get hurt.”

“People need me.”

“I need you.”

“You want me to wed so you don’t have to worry about the farm getting taken.”

“I know you’ll do the Lilac name proud, m’boy.”

Logan stood up, sighing at the fight he couldn’t win. He thought it over, the new moon was at least a month from now, happening only last night, so he’d have a month to see if Thomas was worthy or not. Or…or he could trick his father. Lie about it. Not promise him anything and see how far he got on that. The thought made his stomach turn, but there was only so much he could do. He’d see if by the next new moon Thomas was worthy to be someone he could call husband, if not…if not he’d tell his father the truth, that Thomas just wasn’t right and that he’d keep trying. Keep looking for someone, no matter their past.

“You have a deal”, Logan said finally and David gave him a smile, opening his mouth and allowing his son to give him the medicine he so desperately needed. David’s face twisted in disgust, but he swallowed the liquid and said little else than a good night as Logan departed the room.

Logan stopped by his own room, taking off his shoes and coat before grabbing a book of fairy tales and heading back to Anthony’s room. He opened the door quietly, careful not to awaken the boy more than he already was. The elder of the two settled onto the bed, pulling his younger brother into his lap and allowing the boy to nuzzle the top of his head into Logan’s chin. Logan opened the book of fairy tales and began to read in the softest, calmest voice he could muster. The words flowed smoothly from his mouth, painting pictures with vivid colors under Anthony’s eyelids. He didn’t know when he’d closed his eyes, but now he was far more concerned with the tales than anything as trivial as eyelid movements. Within the span of a few minutes, the younger was out cold. Logan set the book down, dropping his glasses on top of it before snuggling down into the bed, eyes falling shut as he embraced the darkness.

Patton woke up with his face pressed against the bar, sunlight streaming through the dirty windows to his left and shining down on his face. A small pool of saliva had formed around his mouth and he couldn’t remember succumbing to the dark abyss that called to many once the moon had risen. With shaky hands he clasped his head, memories slowly flooding back to him in sequential order; Talyn’s bar, the journey, Joan, Virgil, Thomas…Logan. Logan!

Patton shot up looking around quickly before grabbing his gear and beginning to sprint for the door. He reached the handle and jiggled it a little, confusion clouding his mind when he realized the door was locked.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, a rough voice asked, harsh and gravelly from alcohol or lack of sleep Patton did not know. Patton spun to the source, eyes scouring the dimly lit bar for the origin of the voice, finally finding a black-clad figure. A hat rested atop their head, shadows covering their face while they relaxed back in a chair, feet resting in large, heavy boots atop one of the many wooden tables.

“Virgil?”, Patton asked and the figure sighed, feet dropping to the ground heavily while one hand came to rest on the table. Virgil stood slowly, using the hand on the table to lift himself up while his pistols and knife jingled a little under his large coat.

“I asked where you were going, not what my name is”, Virgil grunted softly, standing to his full height and stretching his back, small cracks making him wince as the vertebrae popped. Within three strides he was standing in front of Patton, hat tilted back a little so the bartender could see his face, grey bags darker from the lack of sleep the night previous.

“I…Are you okay?”, Patton asked and Virgil’s eyes flicked to one of the windows. There was a gunshot and the outlaw sighed, drawing his pistol and motioning for Patton to give him a second. Virgil opened the door roughly and stuck his arm out, firing his pistol out into the desert. There was silence, another shot from the desert to them and then Virgil closed the door, locking it promptly afterward.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired from warding off these stupid outlaws. Idiots who think they can get a free drink while Joan’s away”, Virgil muttered, turning from the door to Patton and motioning for the man to take a seat at the bar.

“Has it been like that all night?”, Patton asked, voice a little softer and kinder in the light of this new information.

“A little. Mostly just a shot or two fired every hour or so. Nothing major like breaking in here, but I wouldn’t put it past them in the long run”, Virgil growled, taking a seat next to the Akers town man, eyes closing over as he tried to fight off sleep.

“I…I could make a few drinks and serve them up. I’m a bartender too”, Patton murmured and Virgil cracked one eye open, looking the man over before closing it and sighing.

“I guess that’d be alright. But you’d have to do things how Joan does them. Joan doesn’t give people back their money if they pay too much and they have a certain way of making their drinks. I can help out, guard you and that, but you’ll need to be on your toes in case someone tried to hurt you and I can’t help you out”, Virgil explained. Patton nodded, taking in the outlaw’s words and swallowing. This place would be nothing like his little bar back in Akers where everyone knew everyone and there was never any fighting. Outlaws would be harder to handle…but Virgil looked like he was at the end of his sanity.

“I can do it. Just give me some warning on who to look out for”, Patton mumbled, hand cupping his chin as he rested his elbow on the bar.

“Can do”, Virgil said as he stood, sighing a little as he walked to the door. He unlocked it and looked back at Patton.

“You’re absolutely sure about this?”, Virgil asked, eyes once again roaming over the bartender who was now standing, ready to move behind the bar. Patton nodded, face a picture of determination and concentration. The bartender set his hat down on the other side of the bar, hands reaching for alcohol and glasses as Virgil sighed and opened the door. “Bar’s open!”, the outlaw cried into the wilderness as a shot was fired into the air. There was a yell from the desert and Virgil stepped back inside, moving to the windows and opening the shutters to let in some rays of sunshine. “Better get ready”, Virgil mumbled as a couple of horses neighed in the distance, a cloud of dust rising from over the hill. Patton gave the outlaw a final nod before the first horse pulled up, the rider disembarking quickly and walking inside, taking a seat at one of the many tables.

The bar was a mess of outlaws’ minutes after opening and Patton was swept off his feet as people called out for drinks. Change was dropped in large sums onto the bar and Patton tried to keep up his tireless smile. His cheeks were beginning to hurt, feet numbing as the sun began to drift towards the edges of the sky, pinks, and oranges splashing across the baby blue. More than once someone had threatened him after he was unable to answer where the usual bartender, Joan, had gone. The usual customers didn’t appear too pleased that their favorite non-binary was not serving their usuals to them. Virgil had stepped in multiple times but had begun to drift off to sleep at the end of the bar in the stool closest to the stairs, this forced Patton to deal with his own crisis. The first time Virgil didn’t step in Patton had forcefully pushed the outlaw away, face a picture of fear. The next time he figured out he had to be more forceful and by the seventh time he was a natural.

“Where’s Joan?”

“Out.”

“Who’re you?”

“Patton.”

“Why’re you serving?”

“Joan’s not here.”

“You a friend of Joan’s?”

“Kinda.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Feeling’s reciprocated.”

The same words were repeated multiple times, a smile flashed in the customer's direction as the conversation ended abruptly. The outlaw was usually left sitting there in confusion and shock as the sunny man walked away from them, working on a new drink for another rowdy outlaw. Virgil smirked under his hat as he followed Patton with his eyes. The man had learned fast how to deal with these people, how to tend to them and work with them through all their faults and insults. It was amazing how quickly the Akers town bartender had fallen into the role that Joan had left to help his friend. His friend…Logan.

Virgil sighed and pulled his crossed arms in closer to his chest. Logan Lilac. The name that had haunted his dreams for the past few nights, brown eyes like hot coffee behind sun covered glasses. Why was he so fixated on this man? They barely knew each other and yet…yet…here he was. Imagining this man with his sharp features, his coffee eyes, his soft hair and shining glasses. They’d barely spoken, barely met and he was already feeling something for this man. Something he’d never admit felt so similar to something outlaws were forbidden from partaking in.

The outlaw growled softly, eyes closing as he swallowed. He needed to speak to the hunter, talk with him, be with him. He needed to get over this man, this…crush. This would only be detrimental to his line of work and Thomas…Thomas…Virgil felt his shoulders rise, anger twisting through his bloodstream. He couldn’t let that no good snake in the grass marry the Lilac man, hurt the hunter before Virgil figured out how to get rid of these…feelings.

With a sigh Virgil stood and took his leave, making his way up the stairs to his boss’ office. The door creaked as he pushed it open eyes lingering on the exposed oak wood before he entered. The light was off, the room illuminated by the sun as it was setting, but it was easy enough to navigate the room even with the shutters down. The outlaw moved around the room to his boss’ desk, sitting in the chair and looking around. Something caught his eye. A sparkle in the dark and gloom.

The outlaw stood and walked over to the sparkle, realizing the glint had come from a handle. It was small, painted brown over bronze and would indistinguishable from the lamp that hung on the wall above it, most overlooking it as just another part of the aforementioned lamp. The round handle wasn’t twistable so Virgil tugged it softly, hear a small click and pulled a little more. A small drawer pulled out with the handle, no wider than three inches and no longer than five. It rested in the wall about two inches deep and was home to a small leather book, a pouch of what Virgil assumed to be money and rolled up piece of paper.

Virgil took the objects out and sure enough, the pouch did indeed house money. The outlaw laid the objects on the desk, taking a seat in his employer’s chair as he unrolled the paper and took a look at it. It was a painting of a small family; a middle-aged woman with brown hair sat in a white chair, the center of the picture, behind her stood a middle-aged man also sporting brown hair, in front of the woman sat two boys both smiling widely. The youngest seemed to only be a toddler, held in his brother’s arms, his dark hair swept to one side. The older was holding his brother tightly, glasses perched on his nose as he looked out of the painting. There was a signature at the bottom that Virgil couldn’t make out along with a black flower of sorts, heavy in tiny four-petal flowers, a lilac, Virgil supposed.

The book was by far the most interesting of the objects. A piece of leather warped around crisp, slightly yellowed, pages. The pages themselves seemed bound, but the leather was more like protection, not attached to the pages in any way. There was a bow made of a thin strip of leather wrapped around and tied in a bow, this seemed to keep it all together. Virgil pulled the bow out and flipped the leather off, exposing the clean pages underneath. With a delicate touch, the outlaw flicked the first page away to reveal numbers. Columns of numbers and names that must be the other employees. A stain of red along with one name caught the man’s eyes and he brought the pages closer to inspect it.

August 1st 16—,

Jeffrey Colesman – died in gunfight with Logan Magenta and Roman Prince in Smithton. Seek new employee.

Virgil’s eyes scanned the rest of the numbers, a frown settling on his face as he looked at the names. Most of the outlaws in the log were dead, but in this, they were still alive until he found another red mark.

December 21st 16—,

Johnson, Stevenson, Smithson – died in gunfight with Logan Magenta and Roman Prince in Rockwell. Seek new employees.

January 31st 16—,

Boone, Lawrence, Clay – died in gunfight with Logan Magenta and Roman Prince in Johnsville. Seek new employees.

June 24th 17—,

Lorne – gaoled due to Logan Magenta and Roman Prince. Seek new employee.

Virgil stared at the next page, filled with red marks that became scratchier as if the writer had become angrier the more he wrote, until finally, in big cursive letters that took up the entire page –

Logan Magenta and Roman Prince must be eliminated.

A shiver ran down Virgil’s spine as he flipped through a couple of pages, more yellowed pages full of columns until something different caught his eye. A small, pathetic drawing of a man with glasses accompanied with a drawing of the same caliber of a man with a tiny crown above his head, stuck in between that page than the one before it was a newspaper clipping depicting Magenta and Prince atop their horses, a large grin spread across Prince’s face. Virgil traced Logan’s glasses with one finger before turning the page and taking in a map of Akers town, red circle scratched around a house atop a hill with the name ‘Lilac’ written underneath.

The next couple of pages were left blank before the writing returned, small notes written in black on a seemingly daily basis with details on the Lilac’s, their property, the worth of the property, Logan’s hobbies, and more. There were red marks here and there, crossing out words or phrases and making corrections on different things. Nothing too eye-catching, but now Virgil had proof if he ever needed it.

The outlaw was just about to close the book when a page, that seemed to have been torn out and messily stuffed back in, fell out onto the desk. There were smudges of ink lining it, one corner completely black due to the stuff. With gentle fingers, Virgil picked the page up, turning it over to study the other side. The corner crumpled in his tight grasp as he read over the page. The page that detailed Thomas Saderson’s exact plans on how he would do what he intended to do all along; how he intended to poison David Lilac until he died, ‘accidentally’ inflict upon Logan Lilac a fatal wound, and finally how he would kill Anthony Lilac – a twelve-year-old boy who had done him no wrong – with his own two hands and make it look like an accident.

Virgil stuffed the paper back into the book, hiding it within his jacket along with the painting and money. His jaw was clenched tightly, teeth pushed together so hard it hurt, but pain was the last thing on his mind as he shoved the drawer closed roughly and stomped out of the door. The bar was completely clear, a few stragglers here and there, but no one that Virgil couldn’t have gone with a shot of one of his pistols. Virgil growled from the top of the stairs, gaining their attention as he pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the ceiling.

“Out now”, he growled, voice low and eyes full of anger. Hate radiated off him in waves, eyes molten under his hat. The stragglers were quick to react, out the door as fast as their legs would carry them. Patton gave the outlaw a concerned look, worry clouding his features as Virgil stumbled down the stairs, eyes on the door ahead of him.

“Virge, what’s wrong?”, the bartender asked as the outlaw passed him. Virgil stopped and glanced at the bartender.

“We’re going to Akers town”, the outlaw said firmly and Patton nodded.

Acknowledgements/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx (@lowkeysalient), @sea-blue-child , and I’m still unsure as to who it is that wanted to be thanked (tagged), but know I am thinking about you and know you want to be thanked (tagged)

Asks, messages or notes = acceptable forms of communication with me so I know you want to be added

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #Analogical #royality

3 notes · View notes

chaoscontrolstheworld · 6 years

Text

Six Shooter - Chapter 7: Home at Last

A/N: ... it’s been too long. I’m so sorry, but now 6S is officially wrapping up and I’ve got a tiny little, eensy-weensy bit of time so yeah... more chapters on Tumblr I guess.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (not yet implemented)

Word Count: 4800+

Talyn woke Patton up the next morning, water splashing onto the other bartender as he was rudely awoken from his slumber.

“Let’s get moving. I don’t want to have any patrons come in before we leave, which means we need to be out the door and locked up in a couple of minutes”, Talyn said and Patton nodded, vaguely aware he was not at home in his usual bed. The bartender left his room, door shutting quietly behind them while Patton sat up, still dazed as he fumbled about for his glasses and coat. He realized quickly that his coat was still downstairs and berated himself for being so tired and silly as to leave it down there. He pushed his boots off, rubbing his feet quickly before putting them back on and standing up. He took a few steps to the door, steadying himself before opening the door and exiting the room.

Talyn was waiting downstairs for him, hat in hand and coat sitting heavy on their shoulders. The bar was empty of patrons, hot wind blowing through the gaps in the slitted windows. It was eerie to see something that had been so lively so dead now, Talyn supposed they had never really shut up the bar before since they’d gotten someone else to tend to the patrons when they rode to Joan’s, but that wasn’t to be right now. Patton grabbed his coat, slinging it around his shoulders and sighing as the heavy leather weighed down on his frame.

“Let’s get moving then”, the man said before exiting and untying his horse. He pushed himself into the saddle and waited for Talyn to lock up. After locking up they moved into a small stable off the bar while Patton moved uncomfortably in his saddle, watching and listening as the sounds of horses came from the small stable. Talyn appeared not a moment later with a horse of their own.

“Let’s go”, the bartender said before kicking their horse into gear, leaving Patton in the dust.

“W-wait up!”, Patton called out, racing to catch up with the other rider as the sun slowly rose over the desert.

The heat was becoming unbearable quickly, fingers of light prodding at Patton’s leather-clad back with wicked intentions. Sweat rolled down in glittering droplets, staining his clothes with dark patches for a moment before lightening, the process repeated itself and Patton sighed. Talyn didn’t seem to be having as much trouble with the devil creation they called the sun as he was. In fact, they looked almost calm in the sun as they traveled to the other bar, a small smile creeping to their face as the rays caught their features. It took about an hour to get to the next bar and by the time they had arrived Patton felt like he could accept death with wide arms into a welcoming embrace. But alas he was not fated to die in the sandbox from hell and as the bar drew closer the more awake Patton felt. His body was tingling at the thought of seeing another outlaw bar, one with more customers no less. There was a shout or two, but overall the bar was decently rowdy.

Patton had expected bottles to be thrown his way when he entered, but all that was thrown his way was a smile from a couple of patrons lounging out on the deck in the heat.

“Afternoon, Tal”, one of the patrons said, smile widening as Talyn drew their horse up to the railing as slid off, reins in hand so they could tie the horse up.

“And to you”, Talyn muttered, pulling the reins tight and looking at the one that had spoken to them. “Make sure no one steals James, will you?”

“You got it, Tal”, the man said with a yellow smile before one of his cronies nudged him and said something under their breath making the patron laugh and spill some of his drink on the deck. Patton winced but didn’t make eye contact when the man called out to him foully. With a grimace, Talyn stepped over the spilled drink, Patton at their heels.

Joan glanced up when they entered greeting the pair with a wide smile.

“Talyn”, the bartender called out as the smaller of the pair sat down, eyes roaming the bar.

“Hello, Joan”, Talyn said with a smile, moving their eyes back to the other out of town bartender.

“What can I get you?”, Joan asked and Talyn nodded their head at the cupboards behind the other bartender.

“The usual. Patton, you want anything?”, Talyn asked and Patton looked back at them a little dazed from the cool air that had engulfed him when he had stepped inside the establishment.

“Uh…water, thank you”, Patton muttered softly, gaze moving away from the other bartenders and around the room. His eyes narrowed a little at each black leather wearing male he saw, hoping that it was Virgil and being sorely disappointed each time.

“Okay then”, Joan said slowly, turning his gaze away from the visitor and over to Talyn who sighed softly, rolling their eyes as the breath was exhaled.

“He’s a friend of Virge’s. Wanted to find him and came to my bar last night hoping he’d be there”, Talyn said and Joan nodded in understanding.

“Well…Patton, was it? Virgil is here, he’s just…sleeping at the moment, but he should be down in a few hours”, Joan said and Patton turned around giving the bartender a grateful smile.

“Thank you. I…I was hoping that I’d only be away a day, but…thank you Talyn, for helping me”, Patton said and Talyn nodded, smiling softly at the man.

“It was nothing, but…to repay me could you tell us what exactly you need Virge’s help with?”, Talyn said and Patton looked down at the bar, eyes alight with worry and concern. Joan handed him a glass of water and Patton took it with a small thank you. After taking a drink from the glass Patton sighed and set it down, looking up at Talyn and Joan before opening his mouth to speak.

“Well, you see…my friend is going to be married off and…and Virgil knows the person my friend is being married off to. He…he’s Virgil’s boss apparently and I thought that maybe if…if Virgil had the right motivation he’d be able to stop his boss from hurting my friend. I know he might not care about Lo very much, but he might be able to get Lo out of marrying Thomas”, Patton said before taking another sip from his glass and coughing.

“Thomas is…getting married?”, Joan asked softly and Patton hesitated a little at the question.

“He…he’s courting Lo at the moment, but I’m pretty sure they’ll be engaged within the fortnight”, Patton murmured and Talyn sat back a little. The two out of town bartenders were shocked, to say the least, as the outlaw boss had never shown interest in anyone before.

“Where are you from?”, Joan asked, voice quiet as they leaned back against the cupboards.

“I’m from A-”

“Patton?”, a rough voice asked and the three turned to look at a messily dressed and unkempt Virgil. He was swaying a little on his feet, dark circles adorning his eyes as he looked down at them. He looked tired, to say the least, along with looking a tad drunk. The outlaw sat down heavily before rubbing a hand over his face, growling a little while Joan busied themselves grabbing the black-clad man some water.

“Virgil. Good to know you’re here. Joan, Talyn and I have just been talking about something and I was won-”, Patton began but Virgil cut him off.

“You were wondering if I could out Thomas to the town to stop him from marrying Logan, right?”, Virgil guessed and Patton nodded sheepishly. “Can’t help you. See if I help out Thomas will…well…let’s just say it won’t be pretty.”

“B…but Logan will-”

“Logan will be fine…he’ll be fine after the marriage. Look…I can’t help, but I…I suppose some foresight into Thomas’ plans would help you. He’s going to break Logan’s legs to stop him from riding off, he’ll make it look like an accident, then after than Thomas’ll sweep Logan off his feet and they’ll get married and live happily ever after”, Virgil said, spitting out the last of his words as he downed the water.

“Logan…Logan Magenta?”, Talyn asked and Virgil nodded a little while Patton was still trying to comprehend what was going to happen to his friend.

“His real name’s Logan Lilac though”, Virgil said, eyes darting to Joan as a glass smashed to the ground. Their hands were shaking a little before they reached out suddenly and gripped Patton’s shoulders like iron. Patton looked up into the bartender’s smoldering eyes, but couldn’t find it in him to care at present.

“Are you from Akers town?”, Joan asked and Patton nodded softly while Joan seemed to shake with rage.

“Woah, buddy. Calm down”, Virgil said as Joan shot back like they had been burned. The bartender let out a loud bout of swearing drawing the attention of all the patrons in the bar, minus Patton who was still dazed.

“W…what’s wrong Joan?”, Talyn asked softly and Joan slumped onto the counter a bit, eyes filled with the hot fires of anger. It blazed in their core, scorching their insides as the growled softly.

“Calm down”, Virgil growled, grabbing Joan’s shoulder and digging his nails into the shirt and skin. “You lot go back to what you were doing”, the outlaw called out and the small group of patrons mumbled softly, taking up their drinks once more.

“What’s wrong Joan?”, Talyn asked again, speaking more firmly and slamming their hands down in front of the bartender’s face.

“Logan…he was my best friend when we were kids. And Thomas…Thomas”, Joan said softly, lifting their body from the counter and glaring at the door. “Thomas is going to get what’s coming to him.”

“Hey, hold on. You can’t just abandon the bar in the middle of the day”, Virgil said as Joan shook off his hand and began to walk towards the door, eyes fixed on the sand outside.

“Watch me”, Joan growled low under his breath as he walked out of the door and down the stairs, moving out of sight as a horse neighed.

“Oh, no”, Virgil muttered as Talyn stood and moved quickly to the door.

“Stay here and don’t let anyone steal anything”, the smaller bartender yelled as they raced after Joan to the annoyed shouts of the outlaw. Virgil groaned and looked over at Patton. The Akers town bartender hadn’t said a word since Virgil had mentioned Thomas’ plan. Virgil was feeling a little guilty, so against his better judgment he sighed, grabbed Patton and hauled him onto his back, walking up the stairs and into Thomas’ office. He dropped the despondent man into Thomas’ chair and walked out again, moving swiftly down to the bar where someone had the guts to try and steal some liquor.

“Hey”, the outlaw called out, raising a pistol into the air and taking aim at the stupid outlaw that had tried to steal the liquor. “Put it back and walk out that door”, Virgil muttered under his breath, finger pulling the trigger back a little as the man ran out the door and into the sun. “The rest of you, out. This place is closing business for the next day or two”, the black-clad man called out to a round of groans. Virgil shot a glass sitting on the bar as a few souls decided it would be funny to stay back a little longer. They ran out as fast as their legs would carry them. Virgil sighed and looked at the empty bar. Looks like I’ll be the one cleaning up today, he mused as he put the pistol away, closed the door and began to clean up the leftover bottles and glasses.

Talyn grabbed James, cursing loudly as Joan’s distant figure began to blur on the horizon line. They were so far away, but Talyn had to get them back. Had to stop them from making a mistake they’d gravely regret. So, with a little resignation and a bucketful of determination, Talyn grabbed James’ reins, kicked the steed into gear and pushed the horse as fast as he would go.

Joan growled out curses through gritted teeth as they pushed their horse to move faster. They could hear Talyn calling out for them to slow down, but all they could think about was Logan’s safety. Talyn pushed their horse to move faster until the two riders were neck and neck, Talyn swerved and Joan had to pull their horseback quickly as the two almost collided. The pair came to a halt as the horses stood on shaking legs, tired from being pushed to their limits so quickly.

“Move Talyn”, Joan said, voice ice cold and eyes as hard as steel. They gave the other bartender a chilling glare, but Talyn stood their ground, glaring back with just as much vehemence.

“I can’t do that. I won’t do that until you calm down”, Talyn said firmly and Joan growled at the continued blockage of their path. Joan let out a yell and gripped their head with their hands, trying in vain to calm down.

“I need to get to Logan”, Joan yelled out, but Talyn stayed where they were, eyes firm and cold as they looked over Joan’s figure. Joan let out a growl, but slid down in the saddle, sighing as they finally gave into Talyn.

“Logan will be fine for a while yet, what we need is for your horse to get some rest. You’ve run it rugged and Akers town is still a while out”, Talyn murmured and Joan allowed their hands to drop back to the saddle, gripping the leather in their hands and looking down at their horse’s mane.

“You’re…you’re still…you’re coming with me to Akers?”, Joan asked, voice small as they looked up at Talyn, the smaller bartender gave them a smile before turning their horse away from Joan’s and back onto the road. Joan watched as the horse became smaller and smaller in the distance, almost becoming a black speck on the horizon until Talyn called out to them.

“You coming or what?”, the bartender called out and Joan let a smile fall on their face as they raced their horse to Talyn and the two embarked on their journey to Akers town. Silence their ever-present companion.

It took them a little under an hour to reach the small town and Joan had never been so glad to see their old home before. The dusty track, The Green, the twisting paths that lead to and fro across town. The old sign hung heavy above the entrance and Joan stood up in their saddle, tapping the sign with a smile as the pair passed underneath it. A small waterfall of dust rained down on the pair and Talyn groaned, brushing off as much as they could while Joan took the opportunity to laugh. They rode their horses into the center of the town and Joan marveled at how much the area had changed since they were a child. Barrels marred the decks he used to chase Logan on and the bar was nearly new. They remembered running past the construction site at the ripe age of six and getting scolded by Logan when they fell and hurt their knee. It was no surprise Logan was a hunter now, but couldn’t he have thought up a better name than Magenta. They supposed the hunter didn’t think anyone would be able to track him back to Akers town, therefore there was no need to heavily conceal his identity.

A whistle drew the taller of the riders out of their daydream and back into the real world where dust and sand reigned supreme. The sun glared down upon them, glittering sands making their eyes water a little from the brightness. The one who had whistled at them appeared to be a man, standing in the center of the road, hat covering his eyes and nose from their view. Joan gave the man a withering glare but stopped nonetheless.

“You know, people tend to prefer a hello before you stop them”, Talyn said, voice holding a tone of annoyance as they looked down at the man in front of them, a few steps ahead of Joan and their horse. The man simply smirked, hand going to his coat pocket and causing Talyn to start back a little as a pistol was whipped out. The man grabbed James’ reins and held firm to the leather straps while Talyn sat in the saddle shocked and a little frightened about what to do. The people around them had vanished long ago, so the only lifeforms dotting the center road of the town were the riders and the gunman. Joan waited, afraid to move lest they upset the man and cause him to shoot the other rider.

“I believe hello’s to be better used on friends, not enemies”, the man said, the pistol clicking slightly in his grip, one finger casually stroking the trigger as he tilted his head up a little. The dark smirk turned a little friendlier as two brown eyes peeked out from under the hat, golden flecks dancing in the warm hues. “So, who might you two be? Outlaws perhaps?”

“No, sorry to disappoint you”, Joan almost spat, they didn’t like the way the man was speaking to them, to Talyn. The gun wasn’t moving, and the other bartender was as stiff as a board in the face of the weapon. “We’re bartenders. We came to see an old friend of mine.”

“And who might that be?”, the man asked, looking from Joan to Talyn and back, eyes still dancing with a little humor while also depicting malice in the chocolaty depths.

“His name’s Logan. I…I used to live here. My name’s Joan”, the taller rider said, and the man lifted an eyebrow skeptically, examining the rider with a calculating gaze.

“Joan, you say? Joan what?”, the man asked, and Joan sighed, biting their lip and growling softly. They had hated their last name since the beginning of their life and would only continue to hate it.

“Joan Hardwood”, the tall rider grumbled under their breath and the man turned his head to the side, cupping a hand around his ear.

“Sorry, what was that?”, the man asked, and Joan growled softly, the pistol, however, seemed to drop a little in the air, though this went unseen by the tall bartender.

“Joan Hardwood”, Joan repeated, and the man stifled some laughter.

“Sorry, what?”, the man asked, a little laughter in his voice as the pistol dropped more, finger releasing the trigger.

“You heard me, you son of a-”

“It’s good to have you back Joan. How’ve you been?”, the man asked, and Joan gave him a bewildered look. He tucked the pistol away in his clothes as he released Talyn’s reins, patting James’ neck gently before taking his hat off and giving the pair a little bow. “Bar’s out of commission for the time being. Our bartender, Patton, he’s gone out to visit someone a few towns over.”

“Wait, wait…Roman?”, Joan asked and Roman nodded moving away from Talyn and walking over to Joan with a smirk.

“It’s been a while…Hardwood”, Roman said, stifling a laugh as he shook Joan’s hand. Joan gave the man a withering glare before looking up at Talyn, who seemed to be doing better now a gun was no longer directly in their face.

“It has. How long now?”, Joan asked politely, slipping off their horse and taking the reins, walking with Roman to the bar a little way off to tie up the horse.

“Oh, a good eighteen years. Maybe twenty I’d say”, Roman chuckled and Joan shook their head with a sigh.

“Too long then”, Joan mumbled, running a hand over the white peeling paint on the wooden railing.

“I…I honestly didn’t think you’d come back, and with a friend no less”, Roman muttered as Talyn closed in on the pair, slipping off their horse as they neared.

“Well, that’s all we are. Friends”, Joan said, narrowing their eyes at Roman who merely put his hands up in mock surrender.

“I never said anything”, Roman said, smirk back with two rows of dazzling white teeth.

“It was implied”, Joan growled under their breath as Talyn walked up to them and gave the pair a small smile.

“So, where’s this Logan Lilac guy?”, Talyn asked and Joan looked at Roman. Roman nodded softly and turned his back to the hills, throwing his thumb back and jabbing at the hills behind him.

“He lives up there. Same with this traveler guy called Thomas Saderson”, Roman said with a small smile, stepping backward and turning. Upon not hearing footsteps behind him Roman turned to them and gave them a confused look. “You two coming or what?”

“Oh, right”, Joan said, following after Roman, Talyn at their heels. Joan looked back at Talyn who shared the same worried expression as they did. Thomas was most likely here. Hopefully, they wouldn’t see him on their way to Logan’s, but Joan had a sneaking suspicion that would not be the case.

The group trundled up the hill, watching out for loose rocks and more than once the two outsiders had to be steadied as they misjudged the ground below and the small rocks gave way under their weight. Roman occasional mentioned things that Joan had missed in the years they had spent away from Akers town. Talyn didn’t talk, choosing to take in the beauty of the world around them, from the sun caressed rocks full of glittering quartz to the small river that reflected the gentle rays. The trees swayed lightly in the breeze, large branches stirred to life by the hot winds and dust clouds. Joan glanced over at the smaller bartender, they were grateful that the smaller had decided to accompany them, but that close call with Roman made their heart race. What if it hadn’t been Roman? What if it had been an outlaw or a hunter they didn’t know? What if…what if Talyn had been shot?

Talyn let out a cry and Joan reached out a hand to steady them. They could feel Talyn’s heart beating erratically beneath their clothing, pumping blood around their body vehemently. Joan wondered if Talyn’s heart had beat this fast when faced with Roman’s pistol.

“We’re here”, Roman said, stopping between two houses, hands and arms stretching up to the sky as his joints popped lightly with the new exertion. His head swiveled between the two houses, eyes finally landing on his two companions. Joan felt their body grow stiff with anticipation and nervousness as Talyn grasped their arm firmly, small hands trembling a little with nerves. “Logan’s is this one. He should be he-”

“Roman! Good afternoon to you”, a voice called out and Roman’s head turned to look at the brown-haired man. Thomas smiled at the hunter, white teeth clenched as he tried not to let his true feelings show. How he hated the man.

“Thomas. A good afternoon to you as well”, Roman said. Thomas felt a little bile rise up at the hunter’s perfect smile. Golden hearted, pretty boy, the traveler thought as he took in Roman and the two others with him. His eyes widened a tad at the sight of the bartenders, Joan’s expression hard and cold as their dark eyes shot shards of sharp ice into his soul. Talyn seemed a little less angry, opting to cling to the other bartender with a frown marring their face.

“And what might you be doing?”, Thomas asked, folding his hands together behind his back, fake smile lighting up his features. The traveler coughed lightly as a breeze swept through his front garden, pollen drifting into the air in a thick, heavily scented cloud. Thomas’ eyes moved from the bartenders to Roman as his mid was infiltrated once more with thoughts of the man. How he loathed him, with his loud voice and closeness to Logan. He wouldn’t have minded the man quite so much, had he kept his nose out of Thomas’ business. The hunter seemed insistent on finding faults that he could use to exploit Thomas, give Logan reason to rethink his attraction to the traveler.

“I’m taking these lovely people to see Logan. Don’t worry, they’re not here to steal him from you”, Roman said, voice saturated and dripping with a sugar sweet niceness that made both men want to gag. Thomas hid the sneer that fought its way up to his face, hand rubbing his chin to push the feelings down. Joan and Talyn seemed to be tuning out the conversation, Joan’s eyes drawn to the door of the Lilac house.

“They’d better not be”, Thomas said with a chuckle, fake niceties and polite greeting thrown out the door as he turned and walked down the path and back to his door, fingers trailing over the heads of wilting flowers that grew like weeds in the front garden. His fingers clasped around a beautiful daffodil, yellow as the sun. He plucked it and turned back to the group, single daffodil clasped in his hand. “I’ve things to attend to, but I bid the three of you good day”, Thomas said watching their eyes, three pairs of optical spheres unable to look away from the daffodil. Thomas smirked a little before turning around, holding the daffodil out as he walked while his other hand rested on the small of his back. He let his fingers trail up to the head, clasp the head in his hand and crush it. The flower made a soft crunch of protest and with a neutral expression, the traveler dropped it. The man opened his door and entered his home, effectively ending all contact with the three people outside his house.

“Well he seems nice”, Talyn said, finally speaking albeit low and sarcastically. Joan let slip a small chuckle while the hunter laughed at the small bartender’s antics.

“Come, come. Logan will be happy to see you after so long”, Roman said, still chuckling quietly as he motioned the two in through the gate, hand settling on the peeling white paint and rusty metal. The gate creaked open and the hunter followed the pair up the path, taking a second to look up at the majesty that was the Lilac household.

The door creaked a little, brass handle rattling before it opened and a small boy with coffee skin that glowed healthily in the sun’s golden rays, raced out. The boy weaved past the two foreigners, jumping up and diving into Roman’s stomach, small arms wrapping around the man’s waist. Roman let out an excited yelp as he swung the boy around, earning raised eyebrows and confused expressions from the two ahead of him. Roman set the boy down and ruffled his dark hair, mouth stretched into a wide smile as the boy grinned up at him.

“Uh, Roman…who’s this?”, Joan asked, puzzled by the familiarity shown by the hunter to the small boy.

“Oh, right. You left before Logan’s mother passed and Anthony was adopted. Joan, Talyn, this is Anthony. Anthony this is Joan Hardwood and Talyn…uh, Talyn. They’re from out of town and Joan knew your brother and me when we were little. They left a…a while back”, Roman explained and Anthony looked to the pair, nut-brown orbs swimming with wonder and awe.

“You knew my brother when he was little?”, the boy asked and Joan hesitantly nodded their head. Anthony let out a small screech and bolted to Joan, taking the foreigner’s hands and looking up at them happily.

“Y-yes?”, Joan said voice questioning as he answered. Anthony gripped Joan’s hands closer to his chest, eyes full of amazement and happiness.

“What was he like?”, Anthony asked, voice high, eyes bright as he stared up into Joan’s brown pools. Joan looked back down at the small boy, before glancing up at Talyn and Roman. The hunter had a smile decorating his face, lips upturned ever so slightly with the prospect of reliving the better years of his life through Joan’s storytelling. Joan sighed and crouched down, inspecting the boy with a small smile of his own.

“How about we head inside and Logan can help me tell the story?”, Joan asked and Anthony let out a cheer of delight before running to the door, stopping and turning, giving the group an apologetic smile.

“Logan’s not home right now, but you can wait for him inside if you want”, Anthony said. Joan seemed to deflate a little, only perking up when Roman put a strong hand on their shoulder.

“Yeah…yeah that sounds good”, Joan muttered as the trio walked forward, eyes set on the door.

Acknowledgemtns/Thank you to: @xxtearfulchildxx (@lowkeysalient), @sea-blue-child, and (unfortunately I answered two asks privately and now I can’t find your name, but) that one person who sent me two asks who I answered to... I will do my darndest to find out who you are so I can add you...

As usual asks, notes and messages are all accepted though if you send me an ask it’ll take me a while to get back to you and next time I won’t be so idiotic as to press the ‘private answer’ button, so next time it’ll end up on the... blog instead of being sent to you privately. Also, whoever sent me those two messages know I didn’t know that it would take away any semblance of you name, it was a mistake and I regret it a lot... sorry about that.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #wild west AU #6shooterfic #analogical #royality

2 notes · View notes