[ the days aren't nearly as long as people think they are this time of year, the sun setting deep in the mountains. steve doesn't mind, as his entire life is built around one purpose: blacksmithing. he wakes up before dawn, cleans up, and walks the short distance to the run-down old open-air building where he abides by his duties. he shoes horses, makes weaponry, and shovels coal to make the fires hotter and the flames grow brighter. steel melts under it, forming shapes between steve's tongs and hammer. it's his living, each day reminding him that it's new, fresh, and he'll see more faces than he'll know how to greet. the town itself sees a lot of newcomers from the train station, them getting off in their sunday best, more often than not. they gather at different intervals, and steve is more than happy to oblige with his services. steve takes pride in knowing that his father would've been proud to see him this way - putting his back into the work, making sure every visitor is taken care of as if they were his own family.
the work is hard and comes with sweat, but it is fulfilling when some have questions, want demonstrations, and spend and spend. dressed in a coal-streaked, thick canvas apron, steve glances up at the stars already peeking out in the late-day twilight. his damp hair falls across his brow, but he gently wipes it away with his sleeve. he places the iron shovel next to the large furnace, the fire still lit, though it's dying down, the area crawling with guests looking for the night's ample pleasures. saloons, brothels, stage shows. people look awe-struck, walking along the thoroughfare, pointing at this, that, and the other thing.
stripping off his apron, steve tosses it over a chair, free hand now running through his hair to make sure the wet tendrils don't bead into his eyes. as he begins to clean up for the night, he sees a stranger dressed in all-black. he looks somewhat lost, wandering, looking at the signs as if he's overwhelmed. there's lots to do in this very town, but steve hardly sees the action of it. occasionally he'll go to see a stage show, drink, and maybe spend time at the brothel - but those moments are few and far between. as steve ducks out of the open-faced building, he inclines his head. a smile blossoms, hands on his hips. he's ready to help. ]
You're looking very lost, friend. Is there something I can do for you?
[ steve beams, friendly and with a nod of his chin. every person deserves to be treated fairly in his eyes, even when some aren't polite. he hopes that this traveler is, as there's something about the way the moonlight hits the warm pools of his gaze. steve likes to think he's good at reading people, but with newcomers, he never knows exactly what he's going to get. some are kind, some are cruel, and others - they toe the line. while there's a chance this man might be rude, steve rolls the dice. ]
( when eddie first heard about this place and what it was doing, he had been skeptical. as much as he loved the idea of a theme park where you could genuinely roleplay out your fantasies, the ethics always sounded shaky at best. then again, eddie has never had a violent nature about him, so being able to kill or assault without legal repercussions isn't at the top of his list to visit.
no, eddie's life has just been...well, it's been nothing to write home about, that's for sure. when he left his small town home with visions of greatness in his future, he thought they would have come to fruition by now. instead, eddie was left with a meager following and too many bills to pay.
until his dad died. he isn't sure where he got all the money for any kind of inheritance, but it's enough to put into a savings account and forget about it for a long, long time while it accrues interest. but money isn't enough to stave the loneliness of living in a big city with no friends and dreams that he never got to see come to pass.
so, off to westworld, he goes. he's always been good at this part, the playing of a character. he steers clear of the rest of the rich folk who clearly have other things on their mind, while eddie spends most of his time exploring and greeting the so-called hosts, surprised at how real they seem. suddenly, he understands the appeal. he can be whoever he wants to be within the expanse of this western landscape. he can do whatever he wants, and when he leaves, nobody will know. it's exhilarating.
it's also exhausting, and eddie's poor horse stumbles somewhere along the path as the sun begins to start its long ascent down to the horizon. eddie might have grown up in a small town, but he didn't grow up around horses and has no idea what to do. supposedly, the horses, like the humans, aren't real, but it seems real enough to eddie that he can't fathom just letting it suffer. it seems fate that he stumbles across the blacksmith just at the exact moment when he needs one.
he hears steve introduce himself before he sees him. it's a slow turn, the kind in movies where eddie just knows he's meeting someone who's about to change his life. and sure enough, as soon as their eyes meet, everything around him slows down and dims, like the spotlight has been placed on them while everything around them fades into the background. )
Steve, ( eddie breathes out, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. a moment passes before eddie realizes he's still staring, dumbfounded, and should probably say something to look less like a creep. ) Oh, uh, hi. I'm Eddie. My horse here, I think she's got a rock stuck in her shoe or something, she's been limping for the last mile or so.
[ their eyes meet, and steve smiles bigger, hands falling from his hips to move toward the horse. he pats its nose, rubbing up the white streak to between its eyes. he strokes it, then gently pulls the reign. he stares over, looking at eddie with a nod of his chin. sure, he was just about to leave for the day - but the newcomer is kind so far - so why not make an exception? steve reaches out, still stroking the horse to calmness, and while he's cleaned, there's still lines of coal under his fingernails. he feels dirty compared to eddie, but he's also still drenched in his own sweat. not much to be done about that, he's afraid. blacksmithing is hard work, and while steve enjoys it, it isn't for rich folk. especially those that come off of the train. ]
You came to the right place, Eddie.
[ another sweet smile before steve turns back to the open building. he ties the horse to the post, then picks up his apron. he slides it back on, then returns to the horse. he leans down on his haunches, checking the shoes, before he finds the large rock nestled, stuck, in the horse's right front shoe. he tilts his head, trying to pry it out with his fingers first, but it's to no avail. he looks up at eddie from where he leans, head tilted. ]
She's got a rock for sure. I can take it out and re-shoe her real quick. Do you mind waiting with her? She's gotta be calm with the shoeing.
[ warmth reflects in his eyes, and as he stands, he passes eddie to pick a shoe from the wall, looking it over. he feels a strange pull, one that's deep inside, and he glances back over at eddie, stealing a look. he's handsome, dressed in a hat and fancy clothes, a little pocket watch hanging from his waistcoat pocket. he's never seen anyone like eddie - not this pretty, not this lovely - in a long time. the shoe is still between his fingers before he snaps out of it. ]
Unless you got somewhere to be, that is. The saloon's open if you wanna wait there, too.
[ he hopes eddie doesn't. he hopes that they fall into conversation while steve shoes the horse, but steve knows that might be a little much. there's too much to do to just stay with him on a pretty night like this, so while he wouldn't be surprised, he tries to not think of disappointment. this is his job, and his father always said no work and all play spoils the mind. ]
( the longer eddie spends looking at steve, the more he feels his breath be taken away. steve is so beautiful, even covered in sweat and soot. something about that makes steve seem so real and not just a creation placed as part of a painstakingly crafted narrative. if eddie hadn't known any better, he would have thought steve was a living, breathing human working a job just like anyone else. )
Nope, I'm all yours. And hers.
( he smiles and finds a spot next to the mare so he can keep her distracted and calm while steve switches out her shoes. he places a hand at her neck, a soothing touch while he whispers to her like she, too, is real flesh and blood. )
You get much business?
( it's more an excuse to talk to steve than anything else. it's obvious steve keeps busy, but it doesn't seem like he gets much traffic outside of the occasional demonstration or some other poor tourist in need of blacksmithing services for reasons similar to eddie's. it's a safe topic of conversation, though. it's one thing to play pretend in the safe confines of dungeons & dragons and another thing entirely when the npcs don't know they're not real. )
[ steve smiles again, broad and with a nod, before he grabs his hammer and leans down on his haunches near the horse's hoof. he lifts her leg gently, looking up at her, making sure she's calm. he doesn't want to get kicked - been there, done that - so his eyes quickly move to eddie before they soften from careful to well, something else. he lowers his gaze, picking up the hammer and clawing the old shoe off. the horse moves, just a touch, and steve gauges her again. she's calm, and as eddie whispers, steve smiles as he lowers his head. ]
You've got a way with her.
[ he removes the shoe completely, the dented and twisted metal falling to his feet with a dull clunk. steve places the new shoe on, then looks up to the horse again. he croons softly, and he can't help it, as if something inside is pulling - eyelashes flick to eddie again, and he stares, watching him. his gaze washes over eddie's face, the way his eyes seem to reflect steve himself. after a moment, a too-long moment, steve shoes the horse with a few quick thwacks of his hammer. ]
I get business, yeah. Mostly newcomers like you, so I do what I can, sir.
[ he doesn't want to look at eddie again, and as the horse shifts, steve lowers her leg. he then stands, taking his gloves off, long fingers in the horse's mane as he strokes her. another grin grows, blossoms, before he soothes her nose. he glances over once, taking in eddie's face again, then backs away. ]
( steve's smile is enough to draw eddie in and beg him to stay. he doesn't want to be anywhere else than right here, right now, watching steve at work. it's enchanting, the way steve's muscles move with each movement, the precision he uses to ensure the nail hits the right spot so it doesn't hurt the poor creature. call eddie a bleeding heart, but even the thought of a fabricated creature getting hurt causes his chest to pull together tightly. )
I suppose you wouldn't get too much repeat business, huh? ( it's the nature of this place. sure, some regulars come back, but it's primarily a tourist destination and too expensive for repeat visits. on top of that, the hosts are cycled through, and their memories are wiped, so the likelihood of steve retaining such a long stretch of time is slim to none. the thought of eddie coming back in a week, a month, only to find steve doesn't recognize him...there goes the pull of his chest once more. )
Thank you. How much do I owe? ( eddie frowns as he reaches into his pants pocket to pull out his wallet. he doesn't want to leave, but the job is done, and the transaction is nearly complete. he has no excuse to stick around now that his horse is reshoed. )
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@ 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙵𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙺.
the work is hard and comes with sweat, but it is fulfilling when some have questions, want demonstrations, and spend and spend. dressed in a coal-streaked, thick canvas apron, steve glances up at the stars already peeking out in the late-day twilight. his damp hair falls across his brow, but he gently wipes it away with his sleeve. he places the iron shovel next to the large furnace, the fire still lit, though it's dying down, the area crawling with guests looking for the night's ample pleasures. saloons, brothels, stage shows. people look awe-struck, walking along the thoroughfare, pointing at this, that, and the other thing.
stripping off his apron, steve tosses it over a chair, free hand now running through his hair to make sure the wet tendrils don't bead into his eyes. as he begins to clean up for the night, he sees a stranger dressed in all-black. he looks somewhat lost, wandering, looking at the signs as if he's overwhelmed. there's lots to do in this very town, but steve hardly sees the action of it. occasionally he'll go to see a stage show, drink, and maybe spend time at the brothel - but those moments are few and far between. as steve ducks out of the open-faced building, he inclines his head. a smile blossoms, hands on his hips. he's ready to help. ]
You're looking very lost, friend. Is there something I can do for you?
[ steve beams, friendly and with a nod of his chin. every person deserves to be treated fairly in his eyes, even when some aren't polite. he hopes that this traveler is, as there's something about the way the moonlight hits the warm pools of his gaze. steve likes to think he's good at reading people, but with newcomers, he never knows exactly what he's going to get. some are kind, some are cruel, and others - they toe the line. while there's a chance this man might be rude, steve rolls the dice. ]
I'm Steve. I'm the blacksmith here in town.
no subject
no, eddie's life has just been...well, it's been nothing to write home about, that's for sure. when he left his small town home with visions of greatness in his future, he thought they would have come to fruition by now. instead, eddie was left with a meager following and too many bills to pay.
until his dad died. he isn't sure where he got all the money for any kind of inheritance, but it's enough to put into a savings account and forget about it for a long, long time while it accrues interest. but money isn't enough to stave the loneliness of living in a big city with no friends and dreams that he never got to see come to pass.
so, off to westworld, he goes. he's always been good at this part, the playing of a character. he steers clear of the rest of the rich folk who clearly have other things on their mind, while eddie spends most of his time exploring and greeting the so-called hosts, surprised at how real they seem. suddenly, he understands the appeal. he can be whoever he wants to be within the expanse of this western landscape. he can do whatever he wants, and when he leaves, nobody will know. it's exhilarating.
it's also exhausting, and eddie's poor horse stumbles somewhere along the path as the sun begins to start its long ascent down to the horizon. eddie might have grown up in a small town, but he didn't grow up around horses and has no idea what to do. supposedly, the horses, like the humans, aren't real, but it seems real enough to eddie that he can't fathom just letting it suffer. it seems fate that he stumbles across the blacksmith just at the exact moment when he needs one.
he hears steve introduce himself before he sees him. it's a slow turn, the kind in movies where eddie just knows he's meeting someone who's about to change his life. and sure enough, as soon as their eyes meet, everything around him slows down and dims, like the spotlight has been placed on them while everything around them fades into the background. )
Steve, ( eddie breathes out, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. a moment passes before eddie realizes he's still staring, dumbfounded, and should probably say something to look less like a creep. ) Oh, uh, hi. I'm Eddie. My horse here, I think she's got a rock stuck in her shoe or something, she's been limping for the last mile or so.
no subject
You came to the right place, Eddie.
[ another sweet smile before steve turns back to the open building. he ties the horse to the post, then picks up his apron. he slides it back on, then returns to the horse. he leans down on his haunches, checking the shoes, before he finds the large rock nestled, stuck, in the horse's right front shoe. he tilts his head, trying to pry it out with his fingers first, but it's to no avail. he looks up at eddie from where he leans, head tilted. ]
She's got a rock for sure. I can take it out and re-shoe her real quick. Do you mind waiting with her? She's gotta be calm with the shoeing.
[ warmth reflects in his eyes, and as he stands, he passes eddie to pick a shoe from the wall, looking it over. he feels a strange pull, one that's deep inside, and he glances back over at eddie, stealing a look. he's handsome, dressed in a hat and fancy clothes, a little pocket watch hanging from his waistcoat pocket. he's never seen anyone like eddie - not this pretty, not this lovely - in a long time. the shoe is still between his fingers before he snaps out of it. ]
Unless you got somewhere to be, that is. The saloon's open if you wanna wait there, too.
[ he hopes eddie doesn't. he hopes that they fall into conversation while steve shoes the horse, but steve knows that might be a little much. there's too much to do to just stay with him on a pretty night like this, so while he wouldn't be surprised, he tries to not think of disappointment. this is his job, and his father always said no work and all play spoils the mind. ]
Either way's fine with me, sir.
no subject
Nope, I'm all yours. And hers.
( he smiles and finds a spot next to the mare so he can keep her distracted and calm while steve switches out her shoes. he places a hand at her neck, a soothing touch while he whispers to her like she, too, is real flesh and blood. )
You get much business?
( it's more an excuse to talk to steve than anything else. it's obvious steve keeps busy, but it doesn't seem like he gets much traffic outside of the occasional demonstration or some other poor tourist in need of blacksmithing services for reasons similar to eddie's. it's a safe topic of conversation, though. it's one thing to play pretend in the safe confines of dungeons & dragons and another thing entirely when the npcs don't know they're not real. )
no subject
You've got a way with her.
[ he removes the shoe completely, the dented and twisted metal falling to his feet with a dull clunk. steve places the new shoe on, then looks up to the horse again. he croons softly, and he can't help it, as if something inside is pulling - eyelashes flick to eddie again, and he stares, watching him. his gaze washes over eddie's face, the way his eyes seem to reflect steve himself. after a moment, a too-long moment, steve shoes the horse with a few quick thwacks of his hammer. ]
I get business, yeah. Mostly newcomers like you, so I do what I can, sir.
[ he doesn't want to look at eddie again, and as the horse shifts, steve lowers her leg. he then stands, taking his gloves off, long fingers in the horse's mane as he strokes her. another grin grows, blossoms, before he soothes her nose. he glances over once, taking in eddie's face again, then backs away. ]
She's all set.
no subject
I suppose you wouldn't get too much repeat business, huh? ( it's the nature of this place. sure, some regulars come back, but it's primarily a tourist destination and too expensive for repeat visits. on top of that, the hosts are cycled through, and their memories are wiped, so the likelihood of steve retaining such a long stretch of time is slim to none. the thought of eddie coming back in a week, a month, only to find steve doesn't recognize him...there goes the pull of his chest once more. )
Thank you. How much do I owe? ( eddie frowns as he reaches into his pants pocket to pull out his wallet. he doesn't want to leave, but the job is done, and the transaction is nearly complete. he has no excuse to stick around now that his horse is reshoed. )