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Messages - archer

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The Badlands / Re: where we belong --- open
« on: April 03, 2020, 12:07:54 AM »


archer was familiar with the antics of pyromaniacs. after a decade of working (among other relationships) with one, who tended to light anything from trashbins to entire apartment complexes aflame when she so fancied, he'd sort of gotten used to it. and, after being apart from his eccentric almost-friend for the last year, he'd forgotten the delightful sensation of everything sort of smelling like burnt.

the smell draws him nearer, and the sight warms his heart in some strange way. sighing, lips curling into a slight smile, he removes his flask as he stops beside salem, eyeing up the flames as he draws in a sip. "reminds me of carol. or cheryl. or whatever the hell her name was." he knows the man very likely didn't know the heiress, and he wasn't exactly speaking to him, but rather, to the universe.

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The Badlands / Re: curse of the fold --- open, weapon supply run
« on: April 02, 2020, 11:57:49 PM »
two for the presence of a gun

archer took pride in many aspects of his life. his alcohol related abilities (including making and consumption), his appearance, his skill with women, and his guns. truthfully, he assumed most people hadn't had them before the world went dark. he'd been a spy since his mother founded odin, and even before that, she'd been a spy for the entirety of his childhood. he was more than a little familiar with firearms, and just about the first thing he'd learned about them was how to take care of them.

see, guns used to cost money. a lot of money. and, for something that costed so much, they were remarkably fragile. they needed to be cleaned and upkept and cared for, and he did so with the same fervor that he cared for his own infant son. among the many important methods of caring for his guns, one of the important ones was not overusing them. pulling the same trigger every day wore out the mechanisms, degrading them overtime, and eventually rendering the weapon useless and broken. and without krieger around to fix shit, archer knew this was especially important.

so, excited about the opportunity of collecting more, archer went along on the little shopping spree. donning a black turtleneck, hair perfectly combed despite the circumstance of the trek, he moved into the shop, eyes combing the walls as he observed the options, before excitedly lifting a large one out of a broken display case.

"a smith and wesson .223 rem 5.56 ar-15," he whispers, voice tight and literal tears brimming his eyes, "this must be what true love feels like." said of course by the man with a child and a... lana.

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The Badlands / ( phrasing )  ⸺  open
« on: April 02, 2020, 09:12:25 PM »

he'd found that, with each passing day, memories of odin. and the found family he'd once had were replaced with newer memories of the genuine family he'd ended up with. lana and cj were his family now (though lana always had bee, for better or for worse), and as his mother and pam and the rest of the crew were gone, he ought to stop missing them and start moving on with the people he did have. except cyril, he hadn't missed cyril for a second. (although he had missed making jokes at the accountants expense.)

he was a spy, not a babysitter, and though cj was his own child, it wasn't like he'd tote the tot around all day. every now and then, he'd be on daddy duty, if only to get further into his former girlfriend and possible soulmate's good graces, but those days were few and far in between. no, he let lana bother with their son, and instead focused on staying busy. patrols, the occasional hunt, and as of late, collecting resources for stir-friday's. but today, there was less to worry about, and so archer rested on a bench not far from the front steps of the casino, gun in hand as he carefully cleaned the nooks and crannies of it. as always, the man was impeccably dressed in a suit, hair perfectly in place, and of course, a flask resting beside him.

"this shit is what woodhouse used to be good for," is all he mutters, lips pressed into a fine line, obviously bothered by doing such a tedious task that his butler ought to be doing.

4
he wasn't all that sure what to make of this place. in the old world, before the power began going out, he probably would have worked against this place. if the lights were still on, he'd probably be rolling in to kill whoever the hell lead the place. or maybe they'd just stay out of it, they hadn't ever really bothered with low tier crime, not unless someone paid them too. rather, he'd probably be a regular at this place, where police would have no doubt looked away and let the wicked things that went on here go on. he'd have stayed in the penthouse on his mother's dime, drinking out the minibar and seducing women he probably should have stayed away from.

but this wasn't the old world. this was an entirely new one, newer still with the recent loss of everyone he knew. his mother, his sort of friends, the entirety of o.d.i.n. had all but vanished after the raid. he and lana had gotten out, but everyone else? by the time they returned, the building was empty and smoking.

so he moved on. he moved on because he still had lana, and despite all the grief she gave him, and despite all the fighting, and despite their not-even-close-to-recent breakup, he loved her. he wouldn't ever admit it, hardly even to himself, but lana had been the one from the day he'd met her, and no amount of flings and one night stands could change that. but he'd royally fucked up on all too many occasions, he'd cheated on her and he'd broken her heart time and time again, and it would seem he'd run out of chances for her to give him.

so he settled for being her sort of friend. and he settled for random women in random bars, and he settled for whatever this was between them. a comfortable familiarity, some place where jealousy wasn't really appropriate but it also sort of was at the same time. it didn't help his cause, or his frustrations, or whatever that one night, not too long ago, in a nearly blackout drunken haze, he'd apparently... fathered her child. and now it was all sort of complicated and messy, and despicable as this place and it's people might be, this is where they needed to be. lana couldn't continue running around as her pregnancy went along, moving place to place, and this place was... well, it was the only place they'd really fit in. even if they weren't bad people, their skill set was morally gray; they'd been spies, hired assassins, mercenaries. they were good at killing people, and medical and farming groups wouldn't find any value in them.

so there he stood, patiently waiting on the road, his... lana at his side. their options had been the winding mountain pass or the beach, and even if lana was pregnant and her feet were swollen or whatever pregnant women had to deal with, there was no way in hell he was getting sand in his shoes, mountain pass they'd gone.

❝someone's gonna be here, any minute now,❞ archer said confidently, retrieving his flask from his coat pocked to take a sip before returning it, ❝there's no way they didn't hear you clomping down the mountain.❞ and this, this was why archer and lana were no longer archer and lana.

( please wait for finny / lana to post!! )

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