Post by spastic bard on May 18, 2008 23:30:55 GMT -5
So the second Steampunk campaign never happened, but that didn't stop us all from creating characters... Meet Vivian, a girl from New York state who happened to be a damn good shot. There is a lot more to her then that, but I plan to write it since the game will most likely never happen.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
It was moments like these that Vivian felt nothing could go wrong.
She could feel the heat of the sun upon her face, and though she could not see it she knew the sky was blue and full of the lightest clouds. The field was quiet, the grass tall and soft against her cheek and the backs of her hands. With her eyes closed she could forget she was just lying on the hill near the Winchester house. She could forget the presence of her rifle near her side. She could forget that Christian was leaving in a fortnight to go fight a war that they only heard echoes of out here. All she could feel was the ground against her back and the breeze that carried familiar scents. It was moments like these that allowed her to relax and pretend everything was fine. She had taken off her hoop skirt and her boots before running off, letting her hair down as she ran barefoot through the fields, her black curls streaming behind her as she moved past the barn and the pasture until she had fallen down in this very spot.
She could almost forget that there was work to be done. She could almost forget that the boys of the town were going off to war when she could out shoot them all. She could almost forget that she might be a widow before she even sees her wedding night. She could forget. Almost.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
It was moments like these that Vivian felt nothing could go wrong.
She could feel the heat of the sun upon her face, and though she could not see it she knew the sky was blue and full of the lightest clouds. The field was quiet, the grass tall and soft against her cheek and the backs of her hands. With her eyes closed she could forget she was just lying on the hill near the Winchester house. She could forget the presence of her rifle near her side. She could forget that Christian was leaving in a fortnight to go fight a war that they only heard echoes of out here. All she could feel was the ground against her back and the breeze that carried familiar scents. It was moments like these that allowed her to relax and pretend everything was fine. She had taken off her hoop skirt and her boots before running off, letting her hair down as she ran barefoot through the fields, her black curls streaming behind her as she moved past the barn and the pasture until she had fallen down in this very spot.
She could almost forget that there was work to be done. She could almost forget that the boys of the town were going off to war when she could out shoot them all. She could almost forget that she might be a widow before she even sees her wedding night. She could forget. Almost.