Boyd "give me a dairy queen" Crowder | Justified (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
articulatings) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2016-10-28 11:04 pm
articulatings) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-10-28 11:04 pm
Event; Don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash
WHO: Boyd Crowder and Peggy Carter
WHERE: middle of one of the paths
WHEN: October 28th
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Animal death, TDB
STATUS: Open
He takes solace in a few things and a few people while in this place. One of which was far more reliable than anything he's found yet--and that would be morning walks with Peggy Carter. Before the rattle of the kitchen, full with people, gets too loud. It's a quiet, sleepy morning and he can pretend it's a little warmer and Peggy is Ava Crowder instead.
That's not fair to Peggy and he knows it, and that's exactly why he never voices the thought--instead, he offers his arm and they make small talk. Boyd with his words and Peggy with her polished, refined British accent--something Boyd's sure he could get used to hearing all day. It's a pleasant sound, and never leaves his ears ringing. Or maybe that's because he enjoys the other's company so much, it's difficult to tell.
One thing is certain--it's fucking cold. He's used to the fact that this isn't Harlan, even if the morning fog and mist makes him think it is for a few moments. He's homesick, truth be told, and he'll never let anyone know it. Even if he has a feeling Peggy's picked up on that. She's extremely clever.
"Can't say I'm going to enjoy the snow, though I am pleased you indulged my offer on a walk this morning, no matter the temperature," he says by way of proper small talk and is about to say something else when he crooks his head to the side and his brow knits. There, on a path, an animal. A sheep, more accurately--lying on the ground. It would be less alarming if it weren't for the way it's been absolutely eviscerated, and Boyd is fairly certain even at this distance he can see intestines.
He'd cover Peggy's eyes if he wasn't sure she'd seen worse. Instead, he glances over at her, raises his brows, and lifts his fingers to his lips to whistle as loud as he can, the piercing sound echoing as it bounces off of nearby buildings.
WHERE: middle of one of the paths
WHEN: October 28th
OPEN TO: Everyone!
WARNINGS: Animal death, TDB
STATUS: Open
He takes solace in a few things and a few people while in this place. One of which was far more reliable than anything he's found yet--and that would be morning walks with Peggy Carter. Before the rattle of the kitchen, full with people, gets too loud. It's a quiet, sleepy morning and he can pretend it's a little warmer and Peggy is Ava Crowder instead.
That's not fair to Peggy and he knows it, and that's exactly why he never voices the thought--instead, he offers his arm and they make small talk. Boyd with his words and Peggy with her polished, refined British accent--something Boyd's sure he could get used to hearing all day. It's a pleasant sound, and never leaves his ears ringing. Or maybe that's because he enjoys the other's company so much, it's difficult to tell.
One thing is certain--it's fucking cold. He's used to the fact that this isn't Harlan, even if the morning fog and mist makes him think it is for a few moments. He's homesick, truth be told, and he'll never let anyone know it. Even if he has a feeling Peggy's picked up on that. She's extremely clever.
"Can't say I'm going to enjoy the snow, though I am pleased you indulged my offer on a walk this morning, no matter the temperature," he says by way of proper small talk and is about to say something else when he crooks his head to the side and his brow knits. There, on a path, an animal. A sheep, more accurately--lying on the ground. It would be less alarming if it weren't for the way it's been absolutely eviscerated, and Boyd is fairly certain even at this distance he can see intestines.
He'd cover Peggy's eyes if he wasn't sure she'd seen worse. Instead, he glances over at her, raises his brows, and lifts his fingers to his lips to whistle as loud as he can, the piercing sound echoing as it bounces off of nearby buildings.
no subject
She could hear Ygritte retorting to her accusations, some of them justified and true. For all that was said about the Wildlings, there were still just as many stories about soldiers and common men that would rob and rape without discrimination. The horror of her ram's death had stripped her of reason and sympathy, plunging her back into that place of discrimination and prejudice that so many of her people followed. It was easier to blame the enemy you didn't know than the one you did and she had fallen into that trap.
But apology wasn't something she was capable of, not yet and certainly not now. Her pride had been wounded and she still felt angry. She grit her teeth, forcing herself to keep from replying and making the situation worse.
no subject
If he's being completely honest with himself, watching them verbally spat is fairly interesting, if not just a tad bit entertaining. The bottom line is that while the two bickering is something he'll let slide, an actual physical altercation is completely detrimental to the situation.
Whatever situation this is.
He's not stupid enough to try to physically stop them--he's no stranger to strong women and how they handle people that underestimate them--but he does purposely step in front of both of them. His hands are raised in front of either girl, palms flat. Hopefully, a disarming gesture.
"Ladies," he begins, southern accent twanging against their different dialects, "I don't believe physical harm is going to be helpin' anyone. You two can sort out your troubles later, but right now ain't exactly the time."