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Ben Wade

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[[ oom : sonora, mexico ]] [27 Dec 2011|07:13pm]
mexico is too nice. too quiet.Collapse )
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[[ milliways : conversations with dead people ]] [29 Oct 2010|03:35pm]
sit down, i'll buy you a drink.Collapse )
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[ milliways : make me an instrument ] [02 Sep 2010|07:42pm]
The basket's a pleasant surprise.

Ben's pulling his weathered notebook from his pocket, intending to leave a proper thank you, when he sees her (doesn't he?) across the room.

Rules be damned, his hand twitches over his holster.

She's bloody and battered, on fire, lit by that spun-gold magic Ben's hoping like hell will keep her safe until he can help

But when he crosses the bar, she fades further away, looking damn near spent.

Rib cage tight, his eyes lock onto hers.
"You remember you've got somethin' in your favor. Those vampires, they're already dead. They want to kill you, but you want to live, Rae. That's some powerful motivation you're holdin' up your sleeve."
Eyes never leaving hers, he tips his head toward her, conveying what he can't articulate any other way.
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[[ milliways ]] [27 Apr 2010|12:05am]
whitetextiswhite

It's early -- early enough that the bar proper is more quiet than loud. Ben likes mornings like this in here, when he can sit with his coffee at one elbow and his hat by the other on the counter, and he isn't taking up more space than might be considered polite.

This particular morning, he's also got a box of ammunition in front of him, courtesy of Bar; as soon as the gray light outside bleeds to red-gold, he'll stride out back for some target practice.
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[[ milliways ]] [26 Apr 2010|11:55pm]
whitetextiswhite

[ an out-of-body experience ]


Dan had been damn good to Ben's body; Ben's clean, his stomach is full, and his head feels clearer than it has in a while.

The Lieutenant's presence in the bar makes it all that much sweeter.
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[[ milliways, upstairs ]] [13 Feb 2010|01:31am]
whitetextiswhite

[ "'tis an ill wind that blows o'er us all" ]


His dreams bend and breathe.

Shadows bleed down and up the walls, a menagerie of shifting, squirming shapes.

The Bible in his hands turns to ash; when he opens his mouth to cite Scripture, his tongue falls to the floor, a torn, ragged mess of atrophied muscle.

His gun is gone, his holster empty.

He imagines he's gripping the Colt, the gold crucifix branding his palm with red lines.

If wishes were horses, Ben would have a ranch right now, but that voice -- that goddamn voice -- never stops talking to him. It may as well be inside his head, and for all he knows, it is.

You could live forever, it says, and while Ben can't say the thought's not appealing, he'd bet his missing hat Eve thought that serpent was her friend, too.
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[[ milliways, the stables ]] [28 Dec 2009|11:02pm]
whitetextiswhite

Ben's mostly certain he put those cross-ties back where they belong in the tack room.

Which is why he's striding out to the stables, late hour and icy air be damned.

When he hears the horses -- panicked whinnies cutting straight to his eardrums, raising the hairs on the back of his neck -- he breaks into a run.
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[[ mixed muses-verse // ben-tiwa, them stakes're lookin' awful high ]] [17 Dec 2009|02:12am]
whitetextiswhite

[ link goes here! ]

The saloon in Jamestown, California is more respectable than any of the ones back in Dodge City.

(Of course, that's not saying a whole hell of a lot.)

Nonetheless, it's a classy establishment, and it's at least marginally safer than the holes-in-the-wall Ben's used to playing cards in, and that's what matters; dressed in a smart three-piece suit and Tiwa on his arm, Ben holds open the door and tips his head.

"Pookas first."
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[[ notes left for fira, kate barlow, and dan evans ]] [16 Dec 2009|03:14pm]
whitetextiswhite

for firaCollapse )



for kate barlowCollapse )



for dan evansCollapse )
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[[ benson, arizona ]] [08 Dec 2009|10:04pm]
whitetextiswhite

[ honor among thieves ]


It's less than a day's ride from Tombstone to Benson; the town itself isn't much to speak of, but it's growing -- all thanks to the Southern Pacific.

Ben dismounts and ties up Gabriel, then steps over to offer a hand to Saffron.

(She's already attracting appreciative stares from passersby squinting in the afternoon sun.)

The train carrying the payroll they're after won't roll in for another hour; they've got time to canvass and prepare.
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[[ milliways, upstairs ]] [08 Aug 2009|12:04pm]
whitetextiswhite

Ben's settled in the armchair in his room, head bent over his sketchbook.

This is a little harder without a certain Russian pilot in the room for comparison, but so far, he's making do.
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[[ mixed muses-verse // ben-tiwa ]] [29 Jun 2009|01:34am]
whitetextiswhite

[ "we could go someplace where you're not wanted" ]


He caved.

(Caved like a dynamited rock tunnel.)

His only stipulation had been that Tiwa had to wait for him to move his door to Mexico.

Which is why he's smirking as he strides into the bar and finds Little Miss Magic curled on one of the couches.

"Found us the perfect place," he says, tipping his head toward the Front Door.

Ascensión awaits.
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[[ milliways, upstairs ]] [06 May 2009|03:01am]
whitetextiswhite

[ halos and horns ]


It's too damn still in Ben's room.

(but it's not the stillness, it's the emptiness)

Which is why he finds himself outside Esfir's door, knocking quietly.

"Lieutenant?"
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[[ diablo: population -2 ]] [14 Apr 2009|11:55pm]
whitetextiswhite

[ "ready to go visit your big hole in the desert?" ]


They spend a long damn time looking at Esfir's crater -- not that Ben minds. He doesn't know if he's ever seen her this still.

It's well past mid-afternoon when they clamber down and return to the horses.

"Y'know, you handled yourself awful well in town, Lieutenant," he says once they're in the saddle and heading southwest with no real destination in mind. "Diablo's meaner'n Dodge City and Tombstone put together."

A beat.

"Sometimes."

Another beat.

"Reckon it depends on my whereabouts at the time."
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[[ crater-bound, diablo ]] [11 Mar 2009|12:55am]
whitetextiswhite

[ cowboys and russians ]


The fourth morning, Ben's awake well before dawn. Despite the hour, he's downright jovial from a night spent in an actual bed and the chance to wash away the dust from the trail.

(Of course, sharing that bed with Esfir's no hardship.)

They've still got a twelve-mile ride ahead of them, but he doesn't wake her just yet; the pads of his fingers are stroking the back of her neck in a steady, featherlight rhythm.
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[[ hands like a gunslinger ]] [20 Feb 2009|10:23pm]
whitetextiswhite

bang

A dented tin can falls.

bang

And another.

bang

And another.

Ben's at the practice range.

bang

He's having a good morning -- or, at least, his aim and depth perception are. Sneaking up on him isn't exactly advisable, but he'll say good morning to anyone who wanders up.
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[[ crater-bound, night one ]] [20 Feb 2009|09:56pm]
whitetextiswhite

[ ride a horse, save a cowboy ]


Just outside Curtiss, it's cold.

(Hell, it's cold in Curtiss.)

Which is why Ben's got a good-looking fire and a good-looking woman to keep him warm.

This beats the hell out of that ride to Contention; the only time he got near anybody in that camp was when he forked Tucker to death.
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[[ tombstone ]] [15 Feb 2009|12:20am]
whitetextiswhite

Ben's more than a little sorry he poked fun at the Lieutenant when she suggested a trip to Canyon Diablo.

Now, the thought of getting out of the bar -- space to ride, space to breathe -- couldn't be more welcome.

(Even if it is to see a giant hole in the ground; Esfir's clear excitement alone is worth the week-long ride.)

He adjusts his hat on his head and swings open the Front Door in Milliways; just beyond is a saloon at the edge of Tombstone, Arizona.

"After you, Lieutenant."
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[[ pre-dawn, milliways, upstairs ]] [26 Jan 2009|02:52am]
whitetextiswhite

[ the lonely light of morning ]


He's blinking in the darkness, already upright and swinging his legs over the side of the bed before he knows why.

Then the rapping -- light but insistent -- registers.

"Hold on just a minute, gotta -- "

He yanks on his pants and pulls his undershirt over his head, then pads to the door barefoot.

"The hell's the -- "

He's squinting, running his free hand through his impressive case of bed-head.

" -- Kate?"
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[[ bisbee, arizona ]] [14 Jul 2008|03:19am]
whitetextiswhite

[ after a departure, a funeral and a promise ]


keeping his wordCollapse )
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