#THANKS 4 READING!!!!! sorry this drawing is so disgustin!!!!

[lanzzo]

Oh gosh I'm so excited for Frakrr Say! I hope Mansk is okay ):

me too anon!!!!

[elizacornwall]

Vengeance is an Idiot’s Game  - Chapter 4 - Gifts

read all the so far published chapters here. ______________________________________________________________ The dark skinned girl and Mr. Matthews were the only people that showed up beneath the canvas over the next couple days. Eliza had finished Heart of the Wilderness in just one day, and a laughing Mr. Matthews brought her a few other books to keep her occupied, accompanied with an oil lamp for some late night reading. He didn't seem like a bad man at all and she started to warm up to him, even though he was part of an outlaw gang. She was pretty certain by now that the people here must be a gang of sorts, it made the most sense. Still, the benevolence he treated her with, and the timid smile she received last time the girl brought her some rough woollen blankets, perplexed her. She had read another title and was halfway through the Adventures of the Gunslinger, when Dutch van der Linde's melodic voice sounded from outside the tent.

“Miss Cornwall, I've got news from your father!”

She quickly folded a corner of the page she was on – She had asked Hosea for a bookmark to keep the pages intact, but he just shrugged and told her this was how he had done it for years – and put the book down to rest next to her. Her heart was pounding hard in her throat. “Mr. van der Linde”, she said, as the man entered the tent.

“We sent a letter to your father when you arrived two days ago, he hasn't responded yet but there is talk he's sent out whole troops of men to find you. It seems like he is keen to get you back Miss Cornwall! You needn't worry, our terms are humble enough for him to agree.” Eliza had her doubts about that. Of course he would send out men to look for her, if only to drag her back to him and give her a scolding, whilst likely locking her up and forcing her to wed the next man he could tie her to, but she wasn't hopeful he would pay a single dollar to criminals. She kept her thoughts to herself and nodded. The black haired man continued. “We'll set up a meeting as soon as we get his answer and you'll be reunited with your family in no time. Until then, please bear with these unworthy conditions a little while longer.” He glanced down on her, his eyes critical. “I'll have Miss Grimshaw prepare some clothes for you, fitting to be worn by a young lady. We can't have you being brought back to your father in your night gown.”

These words made her shift uncomfortably, trying to hide the shape of her body with her arms. Until now, she didn't pay the fact that she spent her days in this gown much thought, but having this man stood opposite of her commenting on her attire – or lack thereof – made her feel very conscious of it. She gave a nod and attempted a thankful smile.

“Alright Miss Cornwall, I'll leave you to your-” he glanced at the title of the book laid next to her, “adventurous Gunslinger.” He chuckled. “Hosea has been providing you with entertainment I see.” “He- He was kind enough to let me borrow some of his novels, yes.” “Ever the librarian, old Hosea. Do you write? I'll send for a journal for you.”

Without waiting for her to answer, he turned around.

“See you soon Miss Cornwall.”

Eliza let out her breath as soon as he was out of sight, her eyes lingering on the lazily swaying canvas where he left the tent. Like last time, the faint scent of a leathery fragrance lingered in the air. He seemed like the sort of man that was able to wrap anyone around his little finger with ease, but she didn't buy it. He was charming in his demeanour and he sounded so secure and sure of himself when he spoke, luring his listeners into a sense of trust and security. Yet something was off, she wasn't sure if it was because he and his men abducted her, or if there was something else. The fact that she had heard his name before didn’t help either.

She picked her book back up, but couldn't really get into it. A short while later her ears picked up on the sound of more sets of footsteps getting closer, and the raised voices of two arguing men.

“Get lost Micah, you ain't got any reason to visit her!” “Relax Cowpoke, I just want to steal a glimpse at her lovely high born face. We ain't got that much fresh beauty 'round here if you didn't notice!”

“Her face ain't yours to steal a glimpse at, now for the last time get lost! Go look at your disgustin' photographs if you need to, just stay the hell away from that woman. We need her unharmed and I ain't trusting you with her, or anything else important for that matter” “Always the spoilsport, Morgan. I'll ask Dutch next time, he ain't got that many trust issues with his fellow men.”

The canvas at the door moved and one set of spurred boots moved away. The flap opened and a tall, broad figure slipped in, his head was tilted, so she couldn't see much of his face under the brim of his hat.

“Dutch asked me to get you a journal Miss, had one spare so here it is. Got you a pen too.” Eliza recognised his now low, grumbly voice as the man who's horse she was on. She tensed up again, her knuckles white as she was gripping her novel tightly. He lifted his head slightly, giving a questioning glance in her direction when she didn't answer immediately and placed the book on the wagon floor.

“Th-thank you. I appreciate it.”

Her voice sounded pressed, he noticed it too and took a step back, denting the fabric with his shoulders.

“Anyway, I'll leave you in peace now. Sorry 'bout all this Miss.”

He turned and walked out of the tent without as much as looking at her a second time. She eased up when the clinking sound of his spurs went away. Curious, she put her book down and leaned over to take the journal into her hands. It was bound in smooth leather, the craftsmanship wasn't very good but it was pretty enough. She opened the latch that kept it closed and flipped it open, revealing the pen that was attached with a loop on the inside. She had only ever really written letters when she had to and didn't really know what to do with this journal. Until her thoughts wandered back to the endless hours spent away from the mansion, sitting under a tree, sketching the landscape, the workers in the fields or animals. The memories felt strange, like it was a different life, a different her. She uncapped the pen and hovered it over the first page. Then she started to draw with quick, practised strokes and her mind went calm.