milliways_bar | Entries tagged with billy the kid

The fences have been repaired. The roof and loft has been inspected, and the holes have been patched over with wood and tarpaper. The rack room has been set back to rights, and the mess that once coated the walls and floors of the stalls has been scrubbed and washed away.

There are still minor things that need to be fixed, yes, but the staff is doing a good job of working hard to ensure that things are being put back to the way they should be. The barn will likely always bear the scars of the apocalypse, to those that know where to look...but it is looking pretty good, so far.

Doc is out in the stables, today, working on giving the stock some attention. He has Cortez outside of the barn and tied loosely to a fence rail, checking his shoes after having given him a good brush-down.

This, he knows how to do. Fixing broken tables and chairs, not so much - so he'll spend his time out here, putting what he can back to 'normal'.

[Open until it scrolls! If anyone would like to check in w/ Doc re: the stables or just run into him, this is a good chance. :)]

scurlock

Things are changing in the Bar, and Doc doesn't like it one bit. Last night, he was given a card by Tower, and it was somewhat positive - which was odd, but welcome.

This morning, he'd gone to the bar and made mention of needing a horse-trough full of coffee to face the cold snap that seems to have overtaken the area out back. He wasn't expecting for one to actually appear beside the bar, full of hot coffee.

After a moment of staring at just how much coffee is in the trough:

"...could I get a Thermos?"

That, at least, arrives normally. He uses a ladle to fill the container before gathering up his coat, scarf, warm hat, and gloves. With the shift in the weather, he intends to make sure the stables are sound and all the horses taken care of.

The red sky is ominous, and the storm clouds on the horizon unsettling. But working with the stock and keeping busy will keep his mind off of the worst 'what if' possibilities.

[Open for tags, either in the bar before he heads out back, or once he's out working in/around the stables. Periodic slows for errands, but I'm off all day today.]

scurlock

The back door opens to admit a pair of familiar faces.

Doc and Billy head for the bar to pick up a bottle of tequila and a handful of shot glasses -- wondering why bar tries to give them a bowl of limes and a shaker of salt to go with the liquor -- before they end up at a table in a somewhat-central area of the bar.

It's not that the outlaws are looking for attention, but they won't turn down company. Bar gave them a few extra glasses, and tequila is better shared with a full gang anyway.

(And they're running low on members, these days.)

Two Regulators, a bottle of tequila, and some shot glasses. Company is welcome, but you'll have to bring your own limes and/or chasers.

[Joint post! Tag in and you'll get a thread w/ both the boys. Open until one of us falls over and gives up the ghost, then will entertain slows.]

young_gun_billy

[oom: "He might've escaped Pat Garrett, but folks, he did not escape justice."]

[ooc: warnings for brief violence]

young_gun_billy

Billy is bored. When he mentioned this to Bar she gave him something to do.

So, now there is an outlaw sitting at a table fiddling with a peg board, getting a better score each time he sets the game up.

He's always been the sociable sort, so feel free to ask for a turn.

ikissdhimbck

After her remarkable entrance Saturday evening, Kate has refrained from doing anything particularly noteworthy. Exhausted from the traumas of the past few weeks, she'd slept away half the day on Sunday, only rousing herself for a few hours to return to the bar for a meal. She's been to check on Beaut (and Corella's new foal) a few times, but aside from that -- and the occasional bite to eat and nap by the fireplace -- she's stuck mostly to her room. She knows Doc is back, but has thus far been able to avoid him.

However, she can't stay in her room forever. So this afternoon, she slides herself onto a bar stool for a late lunch. Despite the hot weather, she is wearing a long duster with the collar turned up, in an attempt to hide some of the bruising on her beaten body. They've fully set in now, and instead of the shaded browns and swollen reds from a few days previous, her neck and face are mottled in blues and purples and greens. By comparison, the cuts she sustained in Weyland's world don't look so bad.

A cupcake pops up in front of her with a small, lit candle. She blinks at it in confusion. "...Bar?"

Happy Anniversary, Katherine!
It's been one year.
:)

She scrutinizes the napkin before carefully picking up the cupcake and examining it.

One year. One whole year since she first stumbled upon this place. She'd gone from a lady to an outlaw, from a schoolteacher to a bandit, and from a girl to a woman. She'd suffered a hundred heartbreaks, and witnessed a million wonders. She'd made friends, and lost loves. One year.

Another cupcake pops up on Miss Bar's gleaming surface, likewise lit with one small, flickering candle. Kate blinks at it, and shakes her head.

"What's the second one for?" she asks.

~~[tiny!tag: Kissin' Kate Barlow]~~ EEEEE, BABY'S GOT A BRAND NEW TAG! ♥ THANK YOU, STEPH! ♥♥♥

young_gun_billy

Billy has been gone for awhile.

He left without any word, and he's returned much the same. He needed some time to do some things, to think and whatnot, and to get used to the whole being 'dead' thing.

Going back to New Mexico was interesting, although he was somewhat disappointed to find that a world without Billy the Kid is much the same as it was before, but it's also the first time in a long time he's been able to travel freely without worrying about posses and lawmen out on his tail. There was a confrontation or two, but those were dealt with easily enough and now he's back, planning for the future.

And, settling the past.

Right now he's at a table with a map of the New Mexico Territory circa 1881. He's been introduced to the highlighter and has his map pretty well marked up. Towns are circled and crossed off and scribbled through and he looks pretty satisfied as he leans back and examines the paper.

maxwellsdemon02

Duo sits at the bar. He has a mostly empty beer in one hand, and a half thoughtful, half zoned-out expression on his face.

He might be staring at you. Sorry.

[OOC: Er, you might want to ping before tagging. You'll see why in a second.]

ikissdhimbck

It hasn't been a good weekend. Friday was a veritable disaster, and it has left her with a lot of heavy thoughts. She wasn't going to stay, but Doc begged her to. So she did.

Yesterday she spent the majority of the day alone. She hadn't slept well the previous night. She wondered if nightmares were going to regularly riddle her dreams now, after what she's done. She hadn't wanted to see anyone, anyway. Doc was busy with his chores, so she had just wandered. The library, the stables, the woods...

Today she's feeling just about as good as she looks. That is to say, she's currently curled up on one of the couches cradling a mug of hot tea, wearing something Miss Bar had called "sweats." They are comfy and they cover her whole body, so she hadn't cared. She's staring at the fireplace, watching the flames dance and the fish swim.

Pondering her next move.

[tiny!tag: Miss Katherine Barlow]

Millitimed to earlier in the day, Sunday. We can be handwavey as to when exactly.

young_gun_billy

Billy isn't reading, but he sure seems rather calm sitting with a whetstone in one hand and a fair sized blade in the other. On the table in front of him there's a bottle of tequila and a shot glass along with a chunk of wood.

It seems Mr. Bonney aims to do some whittling once he's got his blade ready.

He's a spit and sharpen guy but doesn't make the task overly disgusting. In fact he's even whistling a tune, a slow ballad that seems to tickle him quite a bit given the smile he's wearing.

He's sans hat tonight but, as ever when he's about, he's got his guns on his hips; the first chamber empty on each as a kind of safety.

wheatencrown

[OOM: Our past is always too close.]

Demeter is not terribly aware as she walks down the stairs from her room, she had slept so quickly after putting Momiji to bed and woken in such shock. She's not sure whether she wants to walk until she can't feel her feet and doesn't know the land under them or just sit.

In the end the fire draws her and she curls deep within her dark shawl, her hands are hidden so no one can see the marks deep in her palms. If you speak, she might hear you but her thoughts are far away on a dark day in Arcadia.

Tiny tags: Demeter, Doppelganger plot, Charles Monroe, the Pilot, Pan

(OOC: Warning for possibly triggery images related to rape in the OOM. Open to anyone, but the first person to post with an OOC note gets doppelgangered. Any queries should be directed here and here.)

almosthonorable

"Y'know, Miss Bar, the holidays're over."

A napkin appears beside Ben's elbow.

"I ain't complainin', just didn't expect this when I said 'surprise me' -- "

Another napkin appears.

"Well, no -- "

And another.

" -- yes, ma'am."

He rolls up his shirtsleeves, sets aside the saucer of gumdrops, and picks up some licorice to lay track.

He's building a gingerbread train station. Complete with a gingerbread train. Comments from the peanut gallery are not only expected, they're damn near unavoidable.

[ tiny tag with a bullet in its heart: charlie prince ]

[ tiny tag with a heart of gold: charlie monroe ]

[ tiny tag that ain't stubborn: dan evans ]

[ tiny tag with a tiny stutter: aaron stampler ]

[ ooc: EEE, you guuuuys. *hearts all around* ~~sadly, i must dash away for work, so all threads are boarding the slowtime train; i'll be back a little before 11 p.m. EST to pick up any and all tags!~~ aaaaand, back! ]

scurlock

Earlier today, Doc noticed that his door was back.

He hadn't tried to open it, but he knew it was unlocked. The Landlord wasn't so cruel as to tempt him with a locked door (at least he hoped) so he finished what he needed to do, packed his bag, and then had scrawled a few quick notes to be left with bar on the way out. There was one for Katherine, another for Billy, one for Will, and a final one for anyone else who asked about him or needed to know where he'd gone.

( Notes. )

Those left, he donned his coat and hat, wrapped his scarf around his neck, shouldered his bag and then headed out the door. He wasn't looking forward to the ice storm he'd left behind.

[no tags please, exit post only. thanks!]

cheerychaplain

[OOM: Millitimed to the 25^th, a small service is held upstairs.]

[tags: aramis, athos, cal chandler, michael, the old firm, william banks]

young_gun_billy

[oom: Aimless.]

The door opens and horse and rider clop in. The horse is as dead on its feet as the rider is in the saddle and it's a moment before the sudden change in scenery registers.

Lifting its head the horse looks around surprised but too tired to startle. It backs up and its rump hits a wall that was an open door a moment ago and the jar wakes the rider.

Billy lifts his head, pushing back his hat brim and blearily looking around. One hand tightens on the reins while the other moves to his hip and the gun there.

"Ain't this a damn sight." The trail worn Kid rasps.

young_gun_billy

[oom: I'll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid,
And tell of the desperate deeds that he did,
Out here in the West, boys, in New Mexico,
When a man's best friend was his colt Forty-four.]

young_gun_billy

[oom: I don't know where I'm going
Only God knows where I've been
I'm a devil on the run
A six gun lover
A candle in the wind]

young_gun_billy

[oom: I swear I'm gonna live forever
Tell my maker he can wait
I'm riding somewhere south of heaven
Heading back to Santa Fe ]

young_gun_billy

[OOM:

What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way]

scurlock

[OOM:

a coyote ran across the road
on the move without a home
a flash of light reminded me of you
this could well be your last stand
hold the sunlight in your hand
spread your fingers
feel the sand fall through

i've done all i can do
now it's up to you]

ooc: warnings for language, white-text, violence, and death.

scurlock

There is a cowboy standing at the bar, and a bag sitting on the floor next to him. There's a gunbelt on his waist and he has several (six) bullets lined up on the bar, and he's cleaning the revolver in front of him with slow, steady hands.

The door, however, is getting the occasional glance as he stands there.

They need to go home.

Doc orders himself a shot of whiskey, and glances at those six bullets.

He downs the shot, and then gets back to work.

Tonight.

ooc: post for Billy The Kid and a few others, ping young scurlock before you tag please.

note: all other threads are millitimed to prior to the one with Billy the Kid.

[tinytag: Ben Wade]

young_gun_billy

He's been keeping quiet, a highly uncommon occurrence with Billy, but he's had a lot to think on. Decisions to make.

He's also been exploring. Wandering the outdoors in Milliways as much and as far as he could get before each trail he took brought him back. He likes the place all right, but he doesn't think he'd be able to fit here forever. It's not New Mexico, and that's where he belongs.

So it's going to be Garrett and the posse for him, facing what's on the other side of that door and making another crazy bid for freedom out on the New Mexico prairie.

Soon. But not now.

Right now he's cleaning his guns on a table against the wall, his back to no one.

One of his revolvers is laid out on the table, disassembled with the pieces neatly arranged. The other is loaded and still on his hip, butt out.

It's never smart to clean both guns at once, not when you don't know who's about and anyone can walk in.

Still, given everything that he's been thinking about, and everything that's waiting, he's still in a fairly bright mood. Whistling and grinning as he works.

scurlock

[oom: last night, out near the inlet]

Sometime in the early afternoon, Doc makes his way downstairs, with a few pieces of paper in his hand. Three, to be exact. All are left with the bar with instructions to deliver them the next time each patron stops by to get a drink or check for notes.

( Jim Craig )

( Attila )

( Billy )

With those dropped off, Doc finds himself a booth and settles in to contemplate both the visions from the night before and the things he has to come to terms with before he heads back out that door with guns blazing.

(The best way to do this, of course, is to people watch while eating a plate of various types of Chinese food, and drinking a glass of water to try and stop the throbbing in his head from his peyote-tea hangover he's currently dealing with.)

Botherable.

OOC: My apologies to both Jim & Attila's muns for dropping the ball on this for so long, RL has been keeping me super busy so I figured this was the easiest way to take care of things. Congratulations, you're hired! Just have them leave a note or something with Bar so I can make note of when they should be working, but really, it's up to you guys. If you have any questions, give me a ping.

young_gun_billy

Billy's been around, though you've probably missed him. He's been quiet. Had a lot of thinking to do. Not typical Billy behavior. At all.

Tonight he's going to take a break, let go what's been weighing on him and be the Kid again. He figures the best way to do that is to get himself good and smashed.

"Bar, I'd like me a line of shot glasses with your best tequila an keep em full till someone hits the floor." He requests as he swings his leg over a bar stool and settles in, cross holstered guns on his hips and crazy-ass smirk on his face.

The line of shots appears, Billy picks up the first and gulps it, slamming the empty glass upside down on the counter and letting loose one of his trademark laughs.

He's a social drinker. Very social. So feel free to join him.

scurlock

The ground is cold and the stars are out, but none of them are paying attention to the sky above. Eyes are riveted to the earth, no campfire tonight out of fear of being seen in the distance by the many sets of eyes on the lookout for the gang.

It's cold. (And it's not just the clear weather and desert air.)

The cabin, if you could call it that, was crumbling a bit, beams from the roof fallen in, but at the least it was a wall to block the wind. The door was kicked off the hinges and Doc stepped around the backside, looking to grab his pack from his horse.

A faint glimmer of light in the distance. (Doc recognizes that sound.)

"Hey, Billy," he calls, quiet. "C'mere a second, around back."

Billy answers in the affirmative and then he hears crunching footsteps heading his way, boots in the sand. Doc picks up his pack and starts the walk towards the fallen shelter, an outbuilding. (A door.)

He's the first one who steps into Milliways. Billy won't be far behind.

In bar time, it's been awhile since Doc's been here. Outside, it hasn't been long at all.

But he looks...a little older. Tired. (Guilty.)