CONTINUED. // @just-another-rhinestonecowboy

Butch had been to many rodeo’s back in his day but so much had changed since then; it’s even evident in the style in which everyone is dressed. Western but clearly only for aesthetic purposes.

It’s not off putting though, and everyone is relatively friendly. In fact, the cowboy finds himself having a genuinely good time, watching from the sidelines as some poor sucker is bucked clean off of his bull, earning an amused laugh from him. It’s when he notices a rather tall fella enjoying the show next to him that he decides to try and make some conversation.

“Oh I’ve been t’plenty. Used t’be a bull ridin’ champion actually, heh!” The blonde grins proudly, that tooth gap of his far more pronounced with a smile so wide. He brings a hand down to his belt, tapping his buckle which happens to be a pure silver medallion in the shape of a bulls head. A champion belt, perhaps?

“This’s my first time here, though. Ain’t really been t’any modern rodeos b’fore…” He admits, plucking a pre-rolled cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it with a match he digs out of his pocket. He takes a long drag, leaning against the railing before them that separates them from the small arena.

“Company sure is nice, though! I’m used t’ rough an’ gruff fellers tryna start trouble.” He says, smoke escaping his lips as he speaks.

“Ever ridden a bull b’fore, big fella?”

Ghost Town

Starter for @just-another-rhinestonecowboy!

Opal's gait down the hall was nothing short of a skip. Her muffled steps were accompanied only by the subtle scrape of carpet on shoes, as she made her way down the dingy hallway. She passed a dozen identical, equally off-color doors on her way, before she stopped about midway down the hall. With the tiniest twirl that sent her skirt raising like a tossed pizza dough, she dropped her sneaker pointed at the door, and the rest of her body came to a hard stop in that same direction. Her hand raised up, knocking out a dainty rendition of shave and a haircut.

Hopefully Hol hadn't left yet. She'd set him up with the motel as incentive to stick around, but she wasn't sure how inclined he'd be to stay the week she'd bought for him. She'd either be meeting him, or she'd be making sure there wasn't anything else to pay for like some kind of mini-fridge tab. She doubted it, from his gentlemanly ways, but it never hurt to check.

At least she'd managed to convince him to stay for the rest of the doctor's visit, after his fall. He didn't seem too injured, so maybe he had a bit of her luck with him. Although he certainly seemed uneasy with being there at all. She didn't blame him, though. She hated true hospitals too. The smell of antiseptic made her stomach twist, and there was something awful about the sound of rhythmic monitors. Like a reminder of how many beats were left.

Thankfully the urgent care wasn't too bad. At best it had been a small office with a handful of techs and three doctors on staff. It was still clean, but not lysoled hospital level, and the doctor was quick about moving them in and out. It was relatively painless, compared to what it could've been.

And once he was done there, she dropped him off here at the motel, after buying a room for a while. He might clean up nice, if he got sleep for those dark circles and showered--- at all, really. And maybe once he felt like more of a person, he'd have relaxed, enough she could get to know what he was really like. She had money to burn, so it was a worthy cause for a hot man.

"You in, Hol?" She calls, cheerful. "If y' are, I got notions for a nice lunch an' thought I'd offer to treat ya~."

@just-another-rhinestonecowboy from here

The taller man blinked in unabashed surprise at Steph's cheery and slightly odd greeting. Well that was...definitely a reaction he hadn’t gotten before. He peered closer at Steph, scrutinizing him before he slowly released his face. " I uhm..." He rubbed the back of his head as he thought. " I'm uhm...Homeless? Hey, what kinda question is that to ask somebody anyhows? " He stepped around Steph, sizing him up. Well, he didn't look threatening? He'd honestly thought that bunch of young punks that had tried to ambush him earlier under the bridge had followed him to this place. Hell, he was still smarting from all the bruises they'd inflicted on him for shits and giggles. Damn little punks. Didn't they have better things to do than to throw rocks and sticks at hobos? But this one didn't seem to have any hostile intentions towards him. They were downright bubbly and friendly. It was kind of endearing in a way. He relaxed his guard somewhat and rocked back and forth on his feet. " You... lost out here or something? I was fixin' to build a campfire an' settle in for th' night, " he remarked

The other guy was big. Like... BIG big. He was much taller than Steph was, and built like a brick house in comparison. Still, Steph seems entirely open and at ease with him now, even despite his initial shock and their admittedly strange meeting.

He has to admit that he's a touch disappointed to hear the other seems to be a normal enough human, but only lets it sully his excitement for a fraction of a second before he returns to beaming at full force. "Hey, me too! What a coincidence!" It was probably strange to hear someone say they were homeless with that much enthusiasm. He laughs then, eyes turning back down to the device in his hand as he finishes getting it set up despite Hol sizing him up. "I was just returning the question! Besides, I was kinda hoping you might not be human, or at least not alive! I kinda stumbled on this place and thought I'd check it out for any paranormal going ons."

The device comes to life in his hands though it's quiet, and he turns those bright eyes back up to Hol, all smiles. "You haven't noticed anything out of the norm, have you? Cold spots? Eerie whispers? Ghost orbs or other unexplained light phenomena?"

What  specifically  named  color  do  you  embody ?

Aureolin

You are the rock in every friend group, the pillar of your family, and the foundation of which others love to build their ideologies on. You are their pride and joy of knowing right from wrong, and you also pride yourself on it. The world loves you, and you love it. People count on you and you love to see them praise you for the things you naturally are good at. It's a wonderful time, for you. But the days are short when you believe in yourself, and the nights are oh so long when you don't want to sleep - after all, you have a mask to polish, don't you?

and

Feldgrau

Hesitant, neutrality, Italy's markets, intelligence, regretful. You have so many things that you'd like to apologize for. Your world has lost a majority of its luster and color due to all the things you've done and regretted, all the things you want to take back or try again. The people you've lost have told you that you need to work on yourself, and you don't know where to start anymore - you're not sure you ever truly did. It's cold, in the world, and you don't know how to make it warm for everyone, which is where your mistake lies. The world is cold and cruel, and indifferent to those who walk the earth. But that doesn't mean you can't try. (you have to TRY.)

Tagged by: No one! Stole it from @/livelynumbskull

Tagging: @ryouscared @just-another-rhinestonecowboy @castleemporium and anyone else who wants to ^^

(from @just-another-rhinestonecowboy for whichever muse you feel like!)

🤲🏻 or ‘firm’ sender grabs receivers chin firmly

A very large hand shot suddenly out of the darkness and a pair of blue-grey eyes squinted at what they had come upon. " The hell are you? " he grunted, turning the other's face around to get a better look at them.

One of the best things about being out on the road again was that it was easy to get to the little gems, places that he normally would've had to take a whole trip to get to, are just within his grasp-- such as this one! He actually hasn't heard of this place before if he's honest, but a building that looked this old and was this out in the middle of nowhere? Well, most abandoned places were abandoned for a reason. And it never hurt to check! So his worn down impala was parked outside and he'd come in to do a cursory check of the place; check for any immediate danger, walk around with the EMF reader, so on and so forth.

Unfortunately for him he was so focused on setting up his device as he wandered into the building, he wasn't aware of anyone else until he was grabbed. A small squeal of fright escapes him initially at the contact, but thankfully he manages to keep his grip as his brain catches up to him. It was... a person? Maybe a dead person! Or some other kind of human-shaped thing! That would make sense, considering the other had already asked what he was. Mismatched eyes once wide with fright widen further, and become almost sparkly with excitement at the thought. He doesn't fight the grip on his face, squishing his cheeks and turning his head about. It's through said squished cheeks that he speaks, voice bright and full of energy. "Call me Steph! I'm a professional paranormal investigator-- and a human! What are you?"

(gives the bunny a pat) from @foxedthecards and @just-another-rhinestonecowboy *wavey*

!!! waves back!!

(( 👻 from @just-another-rhinestonecowboy Coincidentally my guy who is a rambling man decided to settle in/shelter for the night at what looks like just an abandoned house. He's not got a clue that it's haunted.))

👻 to enter a haunted house @just-another-rhinestonecowboy

Jace hums, bouncing on his heels as he follows Opal up the weather-worn steps. The house looms, an ancient dilapidated home of two stories. The walls and railing are coated in moss and fungus, where the paint has peeled and cracked, and they have to duck under a drapery of spanish moss where it's collected on the roof from the overhead live oaks. It's almost picture-esque-- if what you're looking for is a place that sent a chill down your spine. A haunted house, most locals swore up and down, where you could see a man's sillouette in the second story windows at night, or hear a woman singing and the sound of her weeping child she was consoling, if you were inside.

And that was exactly what Jace was here for; the Pigeon Residence was far from the most haunted place in the world, hardly even a blip on most paranormal investigators' radars, but that was what made it so perfect. It wasn't-- it wasn't fake, like you might see at some 'most haunted places in the world' where they were selling you a haunting. He wanted smaller cases, ones that others might not ever hear about. This was about the history, about sharing stories of those that came before, and maybe, just maybe, one of these days seeing something real, if he kept trying. It wasn't about treading the same ground for the attention, which was fine, but not what he wanted. This was.... hopefully a place for something real. Or maybe the next one might be-- or the next!

It didn't really matter, though; he loves these places, and the lives that lived here, or even looking into things for his community when it came up. He would happily spend the rest of his life researching and trying to understand, even if it never amounted to more.

Opal takes point, her short hair bouncing with her equally peppy steps, like a small cloud streaked with pink and blue. She has a bat nocked against her shoulder, her favorite wooden one with a few nails jaggedly sticking out, and a few little doodles he'd painted on the wood for her, including a bunny and a few hearts and stars. He's never seen her use it, but the sight of the weapon alone was usually enough to scare off anyone who might want trouble, so it serves a protective purpose, which works for them, for sure.

He slips the fabric handle of his camcorder over his palm, and records a shot of her bouncing her way down the dusty, rotting hall. "This is th' Pigeon Residence. Isn't it breathtakin'? Y'don't see paneling like this anymore in houses." He pans over the walls, carved delicately with small floral designs. A few petals are missing, but most remain-- he only holds back from touching them, to feel the raised wood beneath his fingers, when he considers how old the place is, and how delicate they might be. But even after so long in disrepair, they stand out, elegant and beautiful. "Th' owners of this place were Delilah and Dalton Carver-- the name Pigeon came from the work Delilah did an' what they became known f'r."

The two pass into a larger room, one with a skylight, long since opened to the skies above. Glass littered the floor and crunched with the dead leaves beneath their shoes. Cages line the walls as well, rusted on both hinges and delicately thin bars. Hanging rods were broken above them, and fabric tattered to pieces by moths and other insects as well as time lay in frumpy piles near where they might've been drawn. Inside the cages are, unsurprisingly, leaves, but also dozens of cobwebbed nests in the different enclosures; he's sure if he dug into the litter, he might find feathers and shells, too, if they survived. There's also a few cigarettes, evidence of newcomers who visited before them.

He lets his hand appear on the corner of his camcorder, gesturing around the domed room. "This is the aviary. Mrs. Carver kept birds-- pigeons-- which were sometimes trained as messengers. She was said t' have kept a variety of species, and her birds were considered the most well-trained you could get for at least a hundred miles. Whether that's true 'r not isn't really in any of th' primary sources, but a lot of accounts I've found adored her birds. She also sold some of the eggs as well, f'r pretty reasonable amounts at the time-- and it makes for a great cover too. If everyone has pigeons f'r small bird husbandry, it's a lot harder to tell when a pigeon is where it shouldn't be. And pigeons are great birds to use for 'n information network."

He pans the view up at the sky, moving so the moon was visible through the smudged glass and open, empty panels. He lets the camera slowly sweep its way down, to the pillars of the room, to the intricate decor of the walls, and even to the tiling on the floor. "Th' Carvers weren't wealthy, and looked after their own affairs between the both of 'em, as far as I've read. Dalton was a carpenter. The house is large and very specialized, for both his and his wife's work, because he built it himself, from th' ground up. Each intricate piece was hand-carved by Dalton himself. It's pretty amazing t' think about."

"Dalton, my man!" Opal grins, spinning in place at a snail's crawl, to see all the walls one by one. "That's one hell of a work ethic, gettin' this whole place here all spic and span."

Jace chuckles as he films her. "Definitely. They both worked very hard. We should see if we can find his workshop, I would love to see if any of his tools are left."

"Lead the way, sugar~." She gestures like a butler might offer someone an open door, and he lets out a breathy sound before taking point, moving further inside.