Outline || Open

[Inyan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:5px; padding-top:5px; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:5px; background-color: #575757; border-radius: 100px 0px 100px 0px;] INYAN "Im nothing more than a chalk outline" Inyan’s black eyes watched the sunrise scope across the desert horizon. The softest shades of rose flushed the pale azure. Grey brimmed the corners of the sky, with beige sunlight peering over the earth. It was scenic. Each time she memorized the morning sky, a new one arose with dissimilar patterns. Each dawn was different. Each morning had it’s own diversity. Each passing day was fulfilled in her undying hatred. On this morning she had killed a man. To her, he was no different from each white man. His pockets filled with gold, silver, and treasures; she was quick to thieve. It was clear she felt little remorse for killing the man in cold blood. His body mangled, lying in the dust, scalped. He appeared to be young to Inyan. Just barely twenty, his face was still fresh with youth. She did not care. She did not care even if he had no means to defend himself. She had yet killed another white man and stole his goods. It was just another victory. She left the body in the rising desert temperatures, underneath the radiating sun. With her buckskin mare, Doole, they ventured across the vast stretch of land. As they traveled, she drank continuously from a suede wrapped canteen. The piquant taste of whiskey drowned out every aspect of her confusions. Inyan knew what her objective was for the day. It became clear to her it was the only place she had found herself during midday. The Blackbird Saloon. Despite the various conflicts she had bestowed amongst the alcohol infested building, it seemed it was the only place she truly enjoyed herself. It was the whiskey that cured her deliberate pain. It was clear that the Apache woman had been drinking since the night before. Her long, raven hair tangled behind her sinewy shoulders. Her large, black eyes were clearly blood shot. Her very essence reeked of the potency of alcohol. Inyan knew herself she had a problem with the drink. However, she knew that as long as she could use draw her gun just as fast she did not care about her self-destruction. It was the whiskey that burned away her nightmares. Upon her brisk arrival to the town of Del Fuego it was apparent that the people about the streets did not approve of her. She had seen it before. Their blistering, cruel glares. She only smirked. If only they had known how much she abhorred them, they would shrink with fear. She was nimble to dismount her buckskin mare. Even heavily intoxicated, she was quick to react. Hell, she had trained herself to. Entering the swinging doors of the Blackbird Saloon, her eyes swept the open space. Her very image glowered with fire. “Barkeep, g’et me whiskey.” She slurred, her voice enunciated a distinct accent. She tossed a few coins on the smooth surface of the wooden bar. Sliding herself on top of a familiar stool. “Hurry, white-eye.” Tags: -- | Words: -- | Credit: 156zcm of Caution Notes: nadda

[Shawn Flanagan]

Shawn lifted his head from the glass he was nursing. That voice was that Indian, Inyan who blinded him. His heart went cold. He wanted to kill her. That was not Shawn, but what she put him through she deserve to bring in justice. He could not just kill her. That was not proper. He wanted justice to be served.

Inyan killed the Captain King too. The Military did not show up. That bothered Shawn all lot. Did the wire of the news reached Washington. Still, Shawn wanted justice to be done to this female Indian. He grabbed his drink, drank the rest of it. It hit him taking the pain away from his eye, the pain what Inya did to him was not numb.

Shawn stood up from his chair, knocked the chair back. The chair landed with a loud crash as Shawn was staring where Inyan was. He pulled his hand gun out, pointed it at her direction. Blind man with a gun. He held it her direction. “YOU better not move or I will send you to your maker!” the harsh words growled from the undertaker. He slowly moved around the table, using his other hand to help. They did not know he was all that blind. He zoned on where he saw her shadow and voice. He used his thumb to pull the hammer back.

ooc I can take this down if you don't want me to post

[Inyan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:5px; padding-top:5px; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:5px; background-color: #575757; border-radius: 100px 0px 100px 0px;] INYAN "Im nothing more than a chalk outline" She had killed so many men they were all becoming numbers. It had been a long time ago since she had kept track. She filled herself with pride at the thought. For it was in her mind that she believed she was doing her people a favor. She was slaughtering for the justice of her Apache tribe. Watching them being murdered one by one had made a impact on her. Fortunately, she had some sense of wrong in it. At night, when she had slept away her drunken state, she saw their faces appear in her dreams. Taunting her because of the painstaking death she had caused them. It was her belief, as well as the Apaches, that the dead (even corpses) were to be feared. Inyan could not help but to be bewildered within her nightmares. They had tormented her until she could no longer sleep. Inyan was much too intoxicated to notice the fair haired man stand abruptly and rush over towards her. She just had a drink placed within her hand and was eagerly washing it down. She closed her eyes momentarily as she absorbed the familiar sensation burning of the whiskey. Her eyes opened as she heard the dry, blatant voice of the man instruct her. Turning her head she slowly set the empty glass down upon the bar. The people around her grew hushed. Her black eyes stared into the hazed over eyes. So she had not completely blinded him. Certainly, she would of preferred him blind. However, now she wished that she had killed him on the very day she had seen him. No, in stead she found pride that she had tortured the man. There was a reason to as why she did not kill that man on the very day that she had killed Michael. Inyan had seen him with his young son months prior to when she had blinded him with the Apache black powder. She eyed the man harshly, drunkenly observing the barrel of his gun cocked at her. “Kill me.” She dared him, scowling. She was not afraid of death. She shook her head, long black hair tumbling behind her. “Some white-eyes are better blind than can see.” Her broken English slurred deliberately. She pursed her lips and turned towards him, her elbows behind her on the counter. “I not afraid. Are you?” Tags: -- | Words: -- | Credit: 156zcm of Caution Notes: nadda

[Shawn Flanagan]

Inyan had helped Shawn. That's what he needed her to speak so he could aim his weapon at her. It was aimed at her chest level area. The female Indian dared him to kill her. That's was an invitation. Was there a crime shooting someone said 'kill me'? Was that enough to fight against murder in a court? He had her where he needed her. The blood was rushing through his veins.

“I can kill you and bury you myself,” he added. “The benefit of being an undertaker,” that was a bad undertaker joke, “No marker for your soul will be laying six feet in the ground,” he raised his gun a little higher. The room was dead silence.

Torture? It was much torture for Shawn. It was an Indian who blinded him and it was a female Medicine who had helped him. The female medicine lady had given Shawn medicine to take. He had been doing that. The doctor told Shawn to keep using that medicine on the right eye but the left eye was a goner.

The locals could see Inyan was not afraid. Shawn could not see it. He could sense the confident attitude she had. Shawn could hear she was very drunk. That did not matter. What state she was in now, had nothing to do what she did to him in the past.

The woman would not shut up. Shawn wanted to her shut up. His weapon was loaded and ready to fire. One little press on his trigger, she be dead. The Irish blood in him was ripping mad. There was that beast inside him that did not like to be tested. It was part of him that Shawn had been trying to tame for years. The man thought he had the demon trained.

He was wrong.

That's when he squeezed the trigger and shot her.

“That's for the pain,” he spatted out. It was very quiet now. That was the first time Shawn shot someone in anger. She was not armed. She dared him to do so. He had taken a life. No. It was revenge. It was pay back for what she did.

It seemed that devil had a little silver hook that snagged in the Undertaker's heart. It did not take much. That's the devil for you. He's stealthy and sneaky that way.


(ooc: you decide where the bullet went)

[Inyan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:5px; padding-top:5px; padding-right:5px; padding-bottom:5px; background-color: #575757; border-radius: 100px 0px 100px 0px;] INYAN Inyan enjoyed the apparent rage that washed over Shawn’s features. She laughed at him as he cocked the gun at her. She dared him to kill him. She wanted to die. What was the worth in living life if she spent it unhappy? Her black eyes squinted as he spoke. As the bullet seared into her left shoulder, she did not feel it at first. The pain had ultimately set in the course of minutes. It was all so peculiar to her. Her reactions did not set in until moments after. In stead of pulling her favored colt from it’s holster, she let him walk away. Pain shot up from her shoulder and electrified every nerve in her body. At first, she fell from the bar stool she was sitting upon. Sliding down upon the wood earth as people watched her. They watched her with victory in her eyes. Another drunk Indian was shot on their floor. They did not care. She cried out as the pain shook her entire body. Hell, he probably shattered more bones in her shoulder than she could count with one single bullet. She winced as blood soaked her beige blouse underneath her suede jacket. Tearing the jacket fiercely from her body she looked down at her blood soaked shoulder. “damn you! damn you, white-eye! Finish, you fool!” She screamed after him. The pain was horrible. She closed her eyes as she bared it. It only came in painful waves. She knew that it was to come one day. Breathing she looked back at him. She could of killed him on spot. Her aim was immaculate. Even as intoxicated as she was. She was damn good with the gun. However, it was as if she was begging for him to take away her life. In those drawn out moments, she knew that she had nothing worthwhile. Nothing waiting for her. She had no family and yet she had chosen such a path for herself. Tilting her head she gritted her teeth. “You watch me?!” Her broken English was smothered as she yelled between her teeth. Inyan felt her will rise up within her and she threw her good arm up upon the bar to pull herself up. She knew such a wound could not kill her so easily. Hell, she could bleed for hours and she would be fine. She stared at him, gritting her teeth. “You are dead man.” With those words she suddenly felt herself grow weak again. Tags: Shawn | Words: -- | Credit: 156zcm of Caution Notes: nadda

[Shawn Flanagan]

(OOC shot again and swung his hand at her. I did not say it connected or hit her. You make the call)

Shawn observed the shadow of Inyan's body drop to the ground. It was wrong to shoot a woman. Men do not shoot women. There was a code, men do not shoot women, but she was drunk and an Indian, who caused him pain. The devil in him was smiling. Christians are such easy victims. The devil inside had spoken: Shoot her. She's still alive. Those devil's words played Shawn's ego. Yeah, he could shoot her dead. Wait. Why would he do that? The devil stopped, changed the page of thoughts. She said, shoot her, that was an invitation. Yes, she was inviting death, so she could die. Could she be suffering because she was an Indian? Or was she crazy? Staring down at the body, Shawn held the colt at the biggest section of the shadow that was on the floor. “Eye for an eye,” he quoted the Bible. The devil was screaming in joy. Yes, my Christian. Twist the words of the Bible to damnation. It was a shame, Shawn could not see what the reaction of the patrons around him.

Shawn shot his colt at her direction. “Stay down you, redskin dog!” he growled. The man wanted to step close to her, but he knew that would be a stupid move. The thing people did not know about Shawn that he was ambidextrous, fast as lightning he was striking her with his left hand. Nobody did not see that one coming.