John Marston - Red Dead Redemption 2 AU

[americanvenom]

Meet the new Hotel, same as the old Hotel

[[John's been through the events of all two and a half games of canon. He's a vampire and he's lived up to current day. No romantic ties on this rough man. Enjoy!]]

Morning

A man with his dogs is out on the grounds, closer to the stables than the hotel. Two completely rambunctious pups, at that. One is a wiggly brindle shorthaired mutt, and the other is a blonde curly-haired mutt, and they're plowing through the light dusting of snow that had fallen overnight, by way of nosing through and then rolling around in it. John has a pair of leashes slung over his shoulder, but they aren't on them. Opting to let them run around and frolic during their outing. They're friendly, and will come up to anyone who gets within a dozen yards of them.

Along with him is his camera - an ancient thing which was probably new out of the box in the sixties, and was lovingly kept in working order by its owner. He takes a few pictures, first of The Tree, and then of the hotel as well. He's been here this whole time, or rather, for a few months. Had he come in November? When was November in reference to now? Oh well, that's irrelevant. He's outside, the snow isn't entirely bothering him. In fact, the least bothersome thing about the hotel is its weather, in John's opinion.

Afternoon

Later on in the day, he's able to be seen by the corkboard near the front desk, pinning up some photos he'd had developed from the roll prior to the one he's got going now. His hair is tucked back behind his ears, and on a hand-ruled sticky note, John has written, "See the difference?" between two pictures of The Tree. There's a difference, if slight. The branches aren't configured the same way. It's the same lone tree on the hill, but it's not. The other photos are of a more mundane sort. A family of deer in the forest, and one of the horses from the stables and an unknown rider.

Once he's done pinning the photos, John can be found at the bar. Now, see, here's the thing with the man at the bar. He's not used to alcohol affecting him - or hadn't been at the onset of his stay - so he's nursing a whiskey and chain smoking. As scowly as John may be, he's friendly and approachable, especially when someone comes by with interesting stories.

Evening

John is in the woods. He's got his rifle with him, but it's really more there for appearances. When he says he's going hunting, he likes to pretend like he means in the mundane, human way. He's off the trail, but only just, following the game trails to catch a deer unawares. He'd been keeping the kitchens stocked with venison, and there have been offerings to the altars of pelts every week, but John isn't hunting for sport.

Overnight

Looking far more lively - both in personality and complexion - John is sitting at one of the many bonfires outside the hotel, having a good, long look into the fire as he people-watches. While the mead is flowing, he's abstaining entirely. He doesn't trust the mead. Well no, he fully trusts the mead, the mead's totally fine, he's sure, but he doesn't trust himself with the mead. The mead made him break into an employee break room a few months? Weeks? Whatever, ago with a friend, and he got UTTERLY embarrassed about it later when he found a huge garbage bag full of soda cans on the empty bed of his room.

But hey, it won't be hard to talk him into having a pint. Consummate (ex?) alcoholic that he is.

Comments

Evening

[wolfswoodmaid]

He might not be hunting for sport, but others are. Hefting herself up a tree as John was stalking past, Talia was on the lookout for rabbits. Deer were well and good, but rabbit meat would be more succulent than venison. The pelts as well would help them during the winter.

It was easier to spot them and shoot them unawares. Talia's bow is at the ready with her quiver tied to her side. She glanced curiously at John and his strange weapon, watching him as he passed by. "Careful where you step, I have some traps set up."

[americanvenom]

Hearing her before he saw her was just a matter of due course for John, though he could see just fine in the dim twilight. He looked up into the tree with a nod of appreciation to the young woman's warning, brushing his fingers to the brim of his hat, very faintly tipping it after.

"Much appreciated," he said quietly so he didn't disturb his own prey and wind up having to chase them later.

"Snares, or clamp traps?" Snares were harder to pick out amidst the forest floor, but spring-loaded clamp traps were far worse to step on accidentally. He'd heal quickly from that kind of wound, but it wasn't a great way to spend a couple hours. John didn't want to mess up another hunter's traps, either way.

John noticed that she was oddly dressed for what he was used to seeing outside the grounds of the hotel, but he'd come to realize there were more folk from lands he had once considered tantamount to fairytales in the hotel than contemporaries. He really liked it, all things considered.

[wolfswoodmaid]

She nodded, acknowledging his respectful greeting. He at least seemed to understand how difficult it was to set up traps and how frustrating it would be to start over again. There wasn't much for him to worry about though. It wasn't as if it was dangerous for him.

"Snares," she answered, a bit amused at the idea for clamps. "Clamps would tear apart a rabbit. I need their pelts whole and pristine." Snares were better and she doubted she'd be able to find anything else. The gift shop didn't offer much in the way of traps or other hunting accessories.

"That's an interesting weapon." She peered over, careful not to slip from the branch. "How does it work?"

[americanvenom]

"Oh, rabbits. I hunt deer," John murmured, his tone showing that he'd very much forgotten that outside of taking pictures of them, rabbits were game. Snares just made sense, after she explained.

He moved the rifle forward and off his shoulder in a fluid movement befitting of a man who had handled firearms most of his long life. She was obviously from somewhere (or somewhen) else.

"It's a rifle. Projectile weapon. It's pretty loud, usin' small explosive power to fire projectile metal. Usin' a bow is the better choice in this instance, but I don't have one." He honestly would chase the deer down on foot and tackle them, feeding on their blood, but she didn't need to know that.

He wasn't able to hand the rifle up, but... He quickly looked at the tree and pinpointed a route, then took it up the tree with speed and hunter's silence, climbing to a branch nearby. Then he handed it over.

"That mechanism on the bottom there, don't pull it back. That fires it off." Nobody needed someone with no experience just firing off the gun willy-nilly.

"Name's John Marston," he said, being courteous about their meeting. "Rare to see another hunter."

[wolfswoodmaid]

"So do I, but rabbit meat is less game-y and the pelts are soft for boots and gloves." She was more than happy to discuss this with anyone that hunted. It was her favorite thing in the world and she had a tendency to prattle on, even when it wasn't needed.

He explained the weapon well, enough she could follow it without any questions. Hooking her quiver over a smaller branch, she reached for the weapon, able to guess that she had to aim with it. It seemed simple enough, but she wasn't ready to fire it without a bit of practice. Explosives as well would scare the game.

"Talia of House Forrester." She replied, inspecting the make of the gun and testing more of the heft. "I haven't been able to hunt animals for several months now. I've missed the woods." She offered the weapon back.

"When you fire it, does it recoil? Explosives seem as if they'd have a push back."

[americanvenom]

"Pleased to meet you," John said at her greeting. Another Somebody of House Something! Westeros seemed like it was fully in upheaval from the few accounts he'd heard and it was no wonder Talia couldn't hunt. Too much war.

John took the rifle back, but stayed in the tree, putting the rifle back over his shoulder as he explained. "Lots. I got this one while learning to use 'em," he said, indicating the scar on the bridge oh his nose, then hung his arms over a higher branch of the tree than the one he stood on.

"I was holdin' it too close to my face and it recoiled, nearly broke my nose. My brother wouldn't stop laughin' at me for a couple weeks." Which was fair. His brother had been the hunter between the two of them until he died. John found solace in it after. He told the story with amusement, though at the time he did nothing but be a sourpuss.

"I'm not from Westeros, but I've met a few who are. Where's House Forrester in relation to um..." He was snapping his fingers to remember what it was where the Starks lived. It was the northernmost castle he'd heard about, other than castle Black. "Winterfell?" He'd gotten used to trying to map out the country in his mind from the information he'd been given. John was curious about their world, about that country. All he learned about it was war, dragons, wolves and that everyone that was here seemed to be a Lord, Lady, or King.

Which brought him to ask, "is it Lady Talia by the way? I don't wanna be rude."

[wolfswoodmaid]

It sounded like something brothers might do. She had no brother, only a sister who was several years older. Her only real companions came from her fostering at House Mormont or when Lord Stark visited his bannermen. She had a chance to see other children then.

"Your nose doesn't seem any worse for wear." She even leaned a bit closer, holding firm to the branch with her knees. She had been in trees since a young girl. Leaning over to get a look at a man's nose wasn't as terrible dozing on an unsteady branch. "Would you be willing to teach me to use it? However long we're here?"

It would be good to at least fill her time with a new weapon, a new means to hunt. Though she worried for the state of the deer and especially the rabbits after.

"Ironrath is a bit north and a bit west from Winterfell. We're deep in the Wolfswood and surrounded by trees." She tried to mark it in the air, on an imaginary map, but it seemed rather pointless. Even she got lost in the placement of each house. "We're the bannermen of House Glover, one of the most powerful bannermen to House Stark. It means that we serve the house that serves the Starks." Which had caused its own share of problems, but it wasn't a matter to divulge now.

She wrinkled her nose, "Aye, it is. I don't mind someone forgetting to use that title, though."

[americanvenom]

John mentally took tally of where on the map Ironrath might have been, finding her attempt at trying to draw it in the air only slightly helpful. But it would be easier to have someone draw a map out one day, if he could find somebody so inclined. It gave him time to think about the question posed to him, at least.

With that wrinkle of her nose, he huffed his amusement, and nodded. "I'm a very forgetful man when it comes to titles in some cases. I'm bound to forget it for you more often." See? Easy as pointing out that she wasn't fond of it, and he decided it wasn't that important.

"As for teachin' you? Sure. Got enough ammo for that. Ain't easy to make more, and I don't think the gift shop would much like startin' to carry it, but I figure anythin' to help a fellow hunter." He looked around them, then decided that he wasn't really needing the meal tonight. He could pounce on a deer at another time.

"Could get a crash course on it right now if you'd like, wait for the snares to be tripped'n come check 'em after."