govldens
M A N U S A U R E A S
"Golden Hands, Cold Heart"
Doctor Arthur Seed
Cardiothoracic Surgeon
Forty seven
18 posts
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They stand apart from each other, but close. He is not the tallest of men, but the way he stares at her, the way those sapphire blue eyes flare and then narrow, is arresting in it's own right.
Arthur is slight and unassuming. And it works for him.
Her words give him pause, and he almost laughs at her. This un-human. This creature. Arthur stops himself, because he had just arrived and its an ugly look, to be removed from the fun so soon.
"Temptation." he says, hardly thinking about it. "A fool for temptation. Aren't we all." His eyes flare a moment, molten as hot silver and just as cold as the harder stuff.
"-as I said." he steps back, away from her. Suddenly he is as cool and untouchable as his gaze is. He seems harder too, a man made of ice and little else.
"-the saloon. Where is it."
sweetwater had become the only township in the world beyond it to display its inhabitants for who they were beyond just flesh & wire. this live so full of splendor. yet, still gasping & hollow. this had not been an immersion but an observation: the study of the nouveau human ⸺ how even in hell's mouth, you could still aspire. this ripple had been just that, a disruption of the world's structure but not a fraying. it makes nasrin remember that spontaneity was not just a figment here.
this ocean, vast & frothing amid a colonized desert did not stir her. no, rather, there had been a calling ⸺ that siren-wanting that beckoned her near. such debauchery oozing from her every motion. " a follower of temptation ⸺ you're either a fool or a radge. " her name proves itself as she lulls a touch closer. wild rose: arresting, though not without her thorns. " [ ... ] tell me, " gaze searches his, perhaps looking to rile something beyond the obvious course. " which suits you? "
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She is polite and he is trying to be civil. The world might be false, but his manners arent. He was brought up better. There is heart in him, a red one. There are bones in him, and they are real and not carbon fibre.
Be kind, he hears his mother say in the back of his brain, somewhere almost lost to him. Arthur smiles at this woman, but it is a sharp, slight thing that is hardly a comfort.
He slips his arm through hers and holds her to him, the way a new friend would. Detached, but only just.
"Arthur." he says smoothly. "My name is Arthur" He wants to say Doctor, but doesn't. It is a refrain that causes him great pain, in the end. It was a title hard won.
"-and you are?"
𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, nelly heyes is halted in her tracks, arm ensnared by an unknown party. she gives him a once over— handsome, new, and visibly lost. “i reckon it’s your lucky day,” they reply. “i know the owner quite well.” nelly backpedals with a conspiratorial smirk, motioning him to follow.
“might even earn a drink on the house depending on how the walk to the saloon goes.”
at the very least, there was rarely any harm in acquiring a new customer. “may i inquire about the person i’m leading?” whether this would wind up being their singular encounter— nelly attempts to put a name to a face, if purely out of her rejection of the unknown.
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C U T I S C A U S A
"The lord giveth and I taketh away."
1. The Man with a Child in his Eye by Kate Bush
2.Icky Thump by The White Stripes
3.Do I Wanna know by the Arctic Monkeys
4.In Cold Blood by Alt-J
5.Valentine by Maneskin
6.Figure it Out by Royal Blood
7.Brain Stew by Green Day
8.Everybody wants to Rule the world by Lorde
9.Devil inside me by Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes
10.Achilles comes down by Gang of Youths
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The saloon had proven to be one of his favourite places. More so for the novelty of it. The doors would swing wide and the place would reek of strong booze and leather and wood polish. If he closed his eyes, it was almost reminiscent of that long forgotten Birmingham pub his mother worked in. It stank of the same terrible things.
Arthur, in the spirit of park life and historical accuracy, had forgone his contact lenses in favour of a pair of small, round spectacles that he wore on the end of his nose. Approaching the bar, he found a small, quiet spot and slipped the glasses of. He was half heartedly cleaning the lenses when he heard her voice.
Glancing up, he regarded the barmaid carefully for a moment and did not smile when he eventually said "-What would you recommend. Something that isn't beer, either."
location: mariposa saloon
catarina + open!
if there was one thing no one fell short of at the mariposa, it was entertainment. cat worked at the source of gossip, polishing glasses until they sparkled and pouring port and whiskey for guests of old and new as they wove fantastic tales. she often doubted their compelling stories were more than fabrications, but it didn’t matter who was or wasn’t telling the truth. what mattered was who had the money and power to be deemed a potential asset to the vicente smuggling empire her family was building. joaquim vicente was a name that fell from many a townsperson’s lips these days, the tragic loss that had befallen the family. cat hated every mention of her mother: sympathetic smiles only stoked the fire of her anger, for pity had never brought anyone back from the dead.
with the saloon doors swinging wide open, a disarming smile curled the barkeep’s lips. it would get busier in the next days as newcomers arrived in dribs and drabs for the harvest festival, discovering what sweetwater had to offer before they all eventually sought the same thing: a drink and good company. “what’s your poison, sweetheart?”
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Arthur and livestock, did not friends make.
And that included Horses.
Yet he had paused long enough, hands in the pockets of his pants, to regard the girl carefully. His attention would then shift, to the animal, and all of that wonder came rushing back to him like a heroin high.
Was she real? Was the horse? Probably not.
A thrill raced through Arthur as he approached, bright eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He stopped short of the animal, which regarded him with big, clever eyes. Arthur did not touch it. Instead, he stared, wondering and wondering until the silence ate them up and he remembered he was not alone.
"No thank you." He said, glancing toward her. His face was still, stoic even as he watched her. "-animals don't like me much, no matter how friendly."
The harvest festival meant that things were busier than usual on the ranch and it meant more often than not Honey was venturing into town. She didn't mind running errands but Honey did take umbrage to being the general errand runner as it apparently turned out, especially when Honey would much rather be out with the cattle.
She'd ridden Flora into town, glancing around the general hubbub that signaled a festival was on the up. There was a stab of melancholy in her heart, Wisteria always loved the festivals and maybe it was stupid but Honey was praying that somehow the festival would lead her back home.
She hoped this every time and hope was a dangerous thing.
Honey had been in the middle of tying Flora to a post so she could get on with her errands when she heard the soft footsteps of an approach. She surveyed the person for a moment before inclining her head towards her horse, "You can pet her if you want, she don't bite and she likes people well enough,"
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It's a woman and Arthur doesn't register this until after, until the silk of her gown is under his fingers and the delicate features of her lovely face are bathed in sunlight.
He pauses, just for a moment, because that is all he needs.
He recognises this one. From before. All those other befores when he knew her but she didn't know him. Arthur tilted his head, eyes so piercing a blue, they looked like deep sea water. He regarded her like a man would a piece of fine art. Or a ship wreck. Lovely and devastating. All at once. Arthur felt sorry for her, suddenly, that Doctors empathy he thought himself void of, rearing up like a tidal wave.
She shrugged him of and he let her, because that was the illusion after all. Free will.
"Something stronger." Arthur replied, almost softly. He gave his fine pinstripe waistcoat a tug, as if trying to right himself. "If you would be so kind as to show me where, please."
keen to time as it were, the day and all those before it would pace forth with immovable force. this chronical that she stands before is only partly her own, had she willed it ⸺ grandeur would not have been the only spectacle imparted to the watchful masses. if they were to know all the light of this world, they too should know what lurched in the dark. [ do you not want to know the secrets of this world: yes / no? ]
nasrin had been perched as an onlooker in a clear break between two worn down shops when he finds her, wafting handfan beat stammering when her sleeve is taken by the half-stranger. even in partial, rafted shade nasrin gleams in the light. simmering and iridescent like the waxed pearls strung in her hair. sterling like a knife the way her sharpened gaze pins him. they know eachother in a thieving sort of way, only in the pockets of time stolen from them do they collide. she hadn't planned this ( was this apart of the script? ) there's a slurring pulse from where they stand, some jumpy ragtime tune stammering from the distant crowd. " is it libation that you seek, sir ⸺ " arm is shaken from his grasp, " or is it something stronger? "
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Location: Sweetwater Town square
Open!
Arthur was a man of science. Of intellect. Of proof.
So he should, of course, feel right at home on a place built upon all of these principles.
But there was something akin to dread beading like a sweat at the back of his neck. He watched people wander through the town, watched them smile, watched them laugh, watched them kiss. It was all so human. It was all so normal and genuine and human. He wondered just how many of them weren't. How many of them would bleed motor oil, and not blood. It was a thrilling thought. A shocking one, too.
His gaze lingered a little longer on a young man with long hair and a cap set low over his eyes. The boy looked up suddenly and Arthur felt himself drawn closer. Did he possess a heart? or was it a chest full of wires. Arthur felt his hand clench suddenly at his side, as if reaching for a scalpel. He longed for the comfort of the cold, sterile operating room.
Turning away, the Doctor inhaled a sharp, deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed to relax. He needed to stop thinking of everyone as either meat or steel....He needed a drink.
"Pardon me-" he reached out and grasped the nearest person by the arm. "-The bar?...Saloon..." he sighed "-tavern? where is it?"
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( cillian murphy, cis male, he/him ). welcome to westworld, ARTHUR SEED. your guest pass states that you are FORTY SEVEN years old, and that you are visiting westworld for a break from your job as CARDIOTHORACIC SURGEON. you have a bit of a reputation as the KING OF HEARTS, and are known to be INTELLIGENT & CHARMING, but also COLD & DISMISSIVE. sometimes, people say you remind them of SOLAS (DRAGON AGE), CARLISLE CULLEN (TWILIGHT), DANA SCULLY (X-FILES). if you had to describe yourself in a few words, it would be THE LORD GIVETH AND I TAKETH AWAY. here’s hoping you enjoy your stay!
NAME: Arthur Matthew Seed
BIRTHPLACE: Birmingham, England
NICKNAMES: The King of Hearts
AGE: 47
HEIGHT: 5ft 10
EYE COLOUR: Bright Blue
HAIR COLOUR: Dark Brown
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
OCCUPATION: Cardiothoracic surgeon
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Divorced
FAMILY: Matthew Seed (Father ), Donna Seed (Mother, deceased), Charlotte, Mary & Emma (Younger Sisters), Jodie Seed (npc Daughter, 11)
RELIGION: Raised Church of England
MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful Neutral
MBTI: INTP
STAR SIGN: Virgo
TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic
SIN: Vanity
GREEK GOD: Epiphron “the God of prudence, shrewdness & thoughtfulness”
Arthur was born the eldest and only boy to Matthew Seed, a steel worker from Birmingham and his wife Donna, a barmaid. Together the couple had 4 children, and Arthur was soon followed by a slew of sisters.
From a young age, it was not hard to tell that Arthur possessed and intellect that was far beyond his humble upbringings. It also made him a fine target for bullies. He was forever arriving home, his school uniform torn and his glasses broken.
Arthur worked hard in school, and defied his father when at 17, he decided to pursue medicine instead of factory work. His father was disappointed but his mother was thrilled. The first in generations to attend university.
Arthur worked hard. He was never ill, he was never hungover. He sat in the front of the lecture room and took notes until his fingers were numb. He attended every class, worked every med student shift going. He was relentless in the pursuit of knowledge.
He worked his way up and the medical student became a junior doctor became a registrar and became a consultant. Arthur had moved to London for Uni, so he worked in the huge Cardiac wards of St George's. Until he was noticed.
Arthur had a knack for the heart. He knew it intimately. Every person is different, but the heart is the same. A meaty red muscle that Arthur could tamper with when he wished. It made him feel like a god. He soon gained a reputation as one of the best heart surgeons in London, and then it was the south of England and then it was most of the country.
He performed ops on celebrities. On Royalty. On the common man, when he felt like it. The money was rolling in, but it was never really about that. Arthur only felt alive when he closed his fist around another humans heart and felt it pump lazily there.
Arthur married young because he thought that perhaps, it would give him something to do when he wasn't working. But he was always working. The couple had a daughter together but the marriage was never a warm one, and Arthur was incredably emotionally distant toward his child. He and his wife divorced 3 years ago.
Now, he has come to the park because the idea that life can exists without a beating heart or a functioning human body, fascinates him and he wants to know more.
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