[Sidney] Tennessee, 1840: Six Men and Six Bullets
OOC: What follows is an opening that I wrote for luciac and maskandmirror that frames the beginnings for my new character, Sidney Violet Sullivan, unaligned Gangrel. I am interested in character ties, though I would prefer that they be with characters I am not already heavily tied to with Amrit.
I will also prolly just leave Violet's posts here, so let me know if you want to be on the filter (or don't want to be).
Comments are love, critique and critisism is welcome. :)
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“I think we’d better shutter the windows - it looks as if we’re gonna have one doozy of a storm tonight.”
“Oooooooohwee - that sky do look angry, too. Alright, Miss Sidney. I close the shutters, ifn you promise to get on up to bed. If the rain do come, you’re gonna have a whole mess’a work to be doin tomorrow night.”
“You’re right of course, and I will. But in a bit, Nancy. The storm’s giving me the jitters. I think I’ll just take a short walk down to the maple tree, and then I promise I’ll come back and rest.”
The aging Nancy leveled her critical brown eyes on her niece, much younger than she but still wise enough to the world. Wise, gentle, kind-hearted and infinitely blessed by a better circumstance than any of her people could ever have hoped for. How lucky they were to have her, and Nancy was not the sort of negro to put a precious thing in danger. Nancy was no fool. But Sidney had learned long ago how to defend herself - she was in very little danger here.
“I tell ya it ain’t fittin for a girl of your position to be out wanderin in the middle of the night - “ Nancy watched the set of the girl’s chin tighten just a touch, “ - but I s’pose it’s your land. Just don’t go no father than that maple tree, ya hear?”
Miss Sidney Violet Sullivan’s frown brightened into a glowing smile for her oldest, dearest friend, and she nodded obediently. “Yes, ma’am. I promise.” Then she lowered her voice, turning her face away from the open air. “And will you go down and take some extra blankets to the boarders too, please? Mister Grant still hasn’t been along fix that leak, and I don’t want them catching a chill when the rain come.”
She gave a parting smile to Nancy and pulled her shawl around her, stepping down off the porch and onto the path that lead out towards the maple tree. The path was thin and unworn - just a bare strip of Earth. Sometimes it bothered her a little bit that so few pairs of feet had traveled this path when so many souls had found their way into her home. But most of those souls traveled the Railroad, and no one could know they’d come or gone. No one knew save her, Nancy, the conductors and those very souls themselves.
Coming to the maple tree she stopped, leaning against it and drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. The air was growing colder - the storm would be there soon. In fact, she’d thought at first that the sound she’d heard was that of thunder rolling in the distance. But it had drawn closer too quickly. She could hear it bouncing off the trees, along with the whuffs and snorts of winded animals and knew it for horses’ hooves … three, maybe four horses if she was any judge.
Sidney’s eyes narrowed. Winded horses, four and maybe more than that. and another sound that didn’t fit - it sounded, almost, like a woman’s stifled sobbing. No other sound. The men on those horses weren’t talking, or laughing, or calling out at all. She pushed off the tree and moved quietly behind it to a stone settled among the roots. It was a large stone, but she could move it when she needed to. She was rather positive she was going to need the revolver hidden under the stone, so she pushed the stone aside to get at the gun, left her shawl on top of the rock, and headed for the woods.
What she found there was not four men, but six down and off their saddles. She recognized two of them. One of them held the collection of reigns, and the rest had cornered the small negro woman like hounds set on a frightened fox. She was pretty in a way, lighter skinned and delicate looking. A house slave, for certain, and scared out of her wits. She’d likely never run as much in her life as she had in the last half an hour or so.
Six men, six bullets. She’d better not miss.
“Gentlemen! Why, is that you, Mister Harker? Great balls of fire, what are you all doin’ out here in the - Oh!” She feigned surprise at discovering the negro woman while they turned and tipped their hats or bowed.
Mister Harker tipped his hat at her and smiled, but his tone held something she didn’t like. “Miss Sullivan. I might just ask you the same thing - what you’re doing out here in the woods in the middle of the night, and all alone.”
She smiled prettily at him. “Well they are my woods, aren’t they, Mister Harker. I’m allowed to wander in them whenever I like. But truly, I’m afraid I was a might anxious earlier this afternoon, what with the storm coming and all, and I thought perhaps a nice walk would calm my nerves. Of course, then I realised that Penny here was missing - I sent her out to collect a bit of extra fire wood incase we needed it tonight. I thought she might have gotten lost and I felt just terrible, the poor creature wandering in the woods alone and bereft and probably just praying for her bed. Me and my house slaves have been out looking for her ever since. I’m so very grateful to you for finding her.”
One of the other spoke up. “So this nigger’s yours then, Miss Sullivan?”
His tone also held something she didn’t like. She felt her fingers tighten around the gun she held behind her skirts. “Why, yes.” She lifted her eyebrows imperiously, inwardly cringing at the fine imitation of her mother she was about to perform. “Come now, Penny. You’ve missed serving supper and there’ll be a whipping for that, but if you hurry you can still be back in time for the washing.”
The woman was quick on her feet in more ways than one, and Sidney thanked the Lord above for that. She shot to her feet and bobbed a terrified curtsy that was only half-feigned. “Y-yes’m! O’course M-misstress. I - I -“
“Now hold on there just a minute, Miss Sullivan -“ Mister Harker turned a smirk on the negro girl, continuing mockingly, “Miss Penny. We’ve a bit of a difficulty here, you see.”
“Oh?” Sidney felt her fingers tighten once again, and forced them to relax. It wouldn’t do to shoot herself in the foot. That would waste a bullet.
“Yes indeed. You see, Mister Osteen here says that ‘Penny’ belongs to him. We’ve been chasing her for - oh - near half the day now.”
Well. Fiddledee-dee. Half a day was a bit of a stretch, if it was the truth. And if it wasn’t, there was hardly anything she could say to change their minds now. Mister Harker seemed to take her silence for an admission of guilt, and his smirk became a sneer. The other men laughed, turning their full attention on her.
“Nothing to say to that, Miss Sullivan? I didn’t think you would have. You see, a few of the ladies out in town figure you for a nigger lover. I was loathe to believe the flapping tongues of a few idle gossips who were doubtless jealous of your vast lands and your comely face - but now I’m afraid I must agree with them. And since you’re out here without your house slaves or anyone else, it might just be up to me and the other gentlemen to teach you a proper lesson about nigger lovin that it seems your daddy didn’t teach you.”
She sighed, and hoped silently for a moment that the negro woman would also be quick enough to take this tiny opening to start running. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to be as quick now - or she was too frightened to try. Oh, well. It didn't much matter. They weren't going to take her back, they weren't going to rape her, and they weren't going to kill her. Not if Sidney had anything to say about it. Setting the little spot between Mister Harker’s eyes in her sights so that when it came time she didn’t miss, she smiled again and spoke pleasantly to him.
“Oh, Mister Harker, darling - I hope you never thought to love me! I’m afraid it was my mother who taught me the lesson, you see. And you know women, soft hearted fools that we are. She loved a nigger even better than she loved her husband. That’s how she got me - and that’s why I find I positively must love niggers.”
It seemed to her that he had thought to love her. She lifted her arm and pulled the trigger in one smooth motion, and Mister Harker died with naked astonishment in his wide-open eyes.
The horses spooked, knocking their holder to the ground and scattering in every direction. She choose Mister Osteen next, sighting him square in the chest, and he went down with the stink of opened bowels. Two for two. The man closest to the frozen negro woman was next by necessity, but he was moving and she only managed to get his thigh. He crumpled, though, and made no more moves towards the woman - it would have to do. The horse hosteller was still down, so she aimed for Mister Battery, whom she’d known since girlhood, and found the side of his face as he rushed towards her to wrest the revolver from her hands. The impact flung him backwards and on to the departed Mister Harker, but it did not stop the last man standing. He only stumbled, just after she had taken aim, and kept coming. She shot as he dove for her, the bullet whizzing past his head and embedding itself in a tree.
She’d missed. Well - it had been worth the attempt. The bullet thunking into the tree had startled the slave girl well enough to loose her from her crouch and send her running. She’d get away at least, Sidney thought, while she struggled unsuccessfully with her assailant to keep the gun in her hands. Maybe she’d be able to find and calm one of the horses, and catch up with the Railroad up in North Carolina.
She hoped so, and clung to it while her assailant pinned her arms underneath her and shoved at her skirts. She clung to it while he muttered and grumbled like a slathering beast, and the rain started to fall, and the horse holder and the man with the thigh wound cursed her for a bitch and a whore, for a nigger lover - for a nigger and a slave, though she’d never been a slave and they’d never known she was a nigger. She shouldn’t have told them that. But still she clung to her hope while they took their turns beating her and fucking her while she lay in the mud, and clung to it all the harder when she heard the rumble of thunder become the beat of more hooves.
But she couldn’t hold on to it anymore then. Not when she realized that the hooves weren’t from her horses and the men weren’t there to help her. She’d never thought that there would be more of them out looking for their slave. And when the three told their friends what she’d done, and what she was, she knew they’d kill her for the crime of making them believe she was white. Without a doubt, she was going to die.
I will also prolly just leave Violet's posts here, so let me know if you want to be on the filter (or don't want to be).
Comments are love, critique and critisism is welcome. :)
-------------------
“I think we’d better shutter the windows - it looks as if we’re gonna have one doozy of a storm tonight.”
“Oooooooohwee - that sky do look angry, too. Alright, Miss Sidney. I close the shutters, ifn you promise to get on up to bed. If the rain do come, you’re gonna have a whole mess’a work to be doin tomorrow night.”
“You’re right of course, and I will. But in a bit, Nancy. The storm’s giving me the jitters. I think I’ll just take a short walk down to the maple tree, and then I promise I’ll come back and rest.”
The aging Nancy leveled her critical brown eyes on her niece, much younger than she but still wise enough to the world. Wise, gentle, kind-hearted and infinitely blessed by a better circumstance than any of her people could ever have hoped for. How lucky they were to have her, and Nancy was not the sort of negro to put a precious thing in danger. Nancy was no fool. But Sidney had learned long ago how to defend herself - she was in very little danger here.
“I tell ya it ain’t fittin for a girl of your position to be out wanderin in the middle of the night - “ Nancy watched the set of the girl’s chin tighten just a touch, “ - but I s’pose it’s your land. Just don’t go no father than that maple tree, ya hear?”
Miss Sidney Violet Sullivan’s frown brightened into a glowing smile for her oldest, dearest friend, and she nodded obediently. “Yes, ma’am. I promise.” Then she lowered her voice, turning her face away from the open air. “And will you go down and take some extra blankets to the boarders too, please? Mister Grant still hasn’t been along fix that leak, and I don’t want them catching a chill when the rain come.”
She gave a parting smile to Nancy and pulled her shawl around her, stepping down off the porch and onto the path that lead out towards the maple tree. The path was thin and unworn - just a bare strip of Earth. Sometimes it bothered her a little bit that so few pairs of feet had traveled this path when so many souls had found their way into her home. But most of those souls traveled the Railroad, and no one could know they’d come or gone. No one knew save her, Nancy, the conductors and those very souls themselves.
Coming to the maple tree she stopped, leaning against it and drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. The air was growing colder - the storm would be there soon. In fact, she’d thought at first that the sound she’d heard was that of thunder rolling in the distance. But it had drawn closer too quickly. She could hear it bouncing off the trees, along with the whuffs and snorts of winded animals and knew it for horses’ hooves … three, maybe four horses if she was any judge.
Sidney’s eyes narrowed. Winded horses, four and maybe more than that. and another sound that didn’t fit - it sounded, almost, like a woman’s stifled sobbing. No other sound. The men on those horses weren’t talking, or laughing, or calling out at all. She pushed off the tree and moved quietly behind it to a stone settled among the roots. It was a large stone, but she could move it when she needed to. She was rather positive she was going to need the revolver hidden under the stone, so she pushed the stone aside to get at the gun, left her shawl on top of the rock, and headed for the woods.
What she found there was not four men, but six down and off their saddles. She recognized two of them. One of them held the collection of reigns, and the rest had cornered the small negro woman like hounds set on a frightened fox. She was pretty in a way, lighter skinned and delicate looking. A house slave, for certain, and scared out of her wits. She’d likely never run as much in her life as she had in the last half an hour or so.
Six men, six bullets. She’d better not miss.
“Gentlemen! Why, is that you, Mister Harker? Great balls of fire, what are you all doin’ out here in the - Oh!” She feigned surprise at discovering the negro woman while they turned and tipped their hats or bowed.
Mister Harker tipped his hat at her and smiled, but his tone held something she didn’t like. “Miss Sullivan. I might just ask you the same thing - what you’re doing out here in the woods in the middle of the night, and all alone.”
She smiled prettily at him. “Well they are my woods, aren’t they, Mister Harker. I’m allowed to wander in them whenever I like. But truly, I’m afraid I was a might anxious earlier this afternoon, what with the storm coming and all, and I thought perhaps a nice walk would calm my nerves. Of course, then I realised that Penny here was missing - I sent her out to collect a bit of extra fire wood incase we needed it tonight. I thought she might have gotten lost and I felt just terrible, the poor creature wandering in the woods alone and bereft and probably just praying for her bed. Me and my house slaves have been out looking for her ever since. I’m so very grateful to you for finding her.”
One of the other spoke up. “So this nigger’s yours then, Miss Sullivan?”
His tone also held something she didn’t like. She felt her fingers tighten around the gun she held behind her skirts. “Why, yes.” She lifted her eyebrows imperiously, inwardly cringing at the fine imitation of her mother she was about to perform. “Come now, Penny. You’ve missed serving supper and there’ll be a whipping for that, but if you hurry you can still be back in time for the washing.”
The woman was quick on her feet in more ways than one, and Sidney thanked the Lord above for that. She shot to her feet and bobbed a terrified curtsy that was only half-feigned. “Y-yes’m! O’course M-misstress. I - I -“
“Now hold on there just a minute, Miss Sullivan -“ Mister Harker turned a smirk on the negro girl, continuing mockingly, “Miss Penny. We’ve a bit of a difficulty here, you see.”
“Oh?” Sidney felt her fingers tighten once again, and forced them to relax. It wouldn’t do to shoot herself in the foot. That would waste a bullet.
“Yes indeed. You see, Mister Osteen here says that ‘Penny’ belongs to him. We’ve been chasing her for - oh - near half the day now.”
Well. Fiddledee-dee. Half a day was a bit of a stretch, if it was the truth. And if it wasn’t, there was hardly anything she could say to change their minds now. Mister Harker seemed to take her silence for an admission of guilt, and his smirk became a sneer. The other men laughed, turning their full attention on her.
“Nothing to say to that, Miss Sullivan? I didn’t think you would have. You see, a few of the ladies out in town figure you for a nigger lover. I was loathe to believe the flapping tongues of a few idle gossips who were doubtless jealous of your vast lands and your comely face - but now I’m afraid I must agree with them. And since you’re out here without your house slaves or anyone else, it might just be up to me and the other gentlemen to teach you a proper lesson about nigger lovin that it seems your daddy didn’t teach you.”
She sighed, and hoped silently for a moment that the negro woman would also be quick enough to take this tiny opening to start running. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to be as quick now - or she was too frightened to try. Oh, well. It didn't much matter. They weren't going to take her back, they weren't going to rape her, and they weren't going to kill her. Not if Sidney had anything to say about it. Setting the little spot between Mister Harker’s eyes in her sights so that when it came time she didn’t miss, she smiled again and spoke pleasantly to him.
“Oh, Mister Harker, darling - I hope you never thought to love me! I’m afraid it was my mother who taught me the lesson, you see. And you know women, soft hearted fools that we are. She loved a nigger even better than she loved her husband. That’s how she got me - and that’s why I find I positively must love niggers.”
It seemed to her that he had thought to love her. She lifted her arm and pulled the trigger in one smooth motion, and Mister Harker died with naked astonishment in his wide-open eyes.
The horses spooked, knocking their holder to the ground and scattering in every direction. She choose Mister Osteen next, sighting him square in the chest, and he went down with the stink of opened bowels. Two for two. The man closest to the frozen negro woman was next by necessity, but he was moving and she only managed to get his thigh. He crumpled, though, and made no more moves towards the woman - it would have to do. The horse hosteller was still down, so she aimed for Mister Battery, whom she’d known since girlhood, and found the side of his face as he rushed towards her to wrest the revolver from her hands. The impact flung him backwards and on to the departed Mister Harker, but it did not stop the last man standing. He only stumbled, just after she had taken aim, and kept coming. She shot as he dove for her, the bullet whizzing past his head and embedding itself in a tree.
She’d missed. Well - it had been worth the attempt. The bullet thunking into the tree had startled the slave girl well enough to loose her from her crouch and send her running. She’d get away at least, Sidney thought, while she struggled unsuccessfully with her assailant to keep the gun in her hands. Maybe she’d be able to find and calm one of the horses, and catch up with the Railroad up in North Carolina.
She hoped so, and clung to it while her assailant pinned her arms underneath her and shoved at her skirts. She clung to it while he muttered and grumbled like a slathering beast, and the rain started to fall, and the horse holder and the man with the thigh wound cursed her for a bitch and a whore, for a nigger lover - for a nigger and a slave, though she’d never been a slave and they’d never known she was a nigger. She shouldn’t have told them that. But still she clung to her hope while they took their turns beating her and fucking her while she lay in the mud, and clung to it all the harder when she heard the rumble of thunder become the beat of more hooves.
But she couldn’t hold on to it anymore then. Not when she realized that the hooves weren’t from her horses and the men weren’t there to help her. She’d never thought that there would be more of them out looking for their slave. And when the three told their friends what she’d done, and what she was, she knew they’d kill her for the crime of making them believe she was white. Without a doubt, she was going to die.