bakerstreet | ( picture prompt meme )

( picture prompt meme )

the picture prompt meme

I — Comment with your character.
II — Others will leave a picture (or two, or three...)
III — Reply to them with a setting based on the picture.
IV — Link to any pictures that are NSFW, please.
V — Be aware that this meme will be image-heavy.

Link to an image:

Embed image in your reply:

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[ once, sleep had come so easily for emma. she'd close her eyes beside her husband, and in moments, she'd find herself drifting off. matthew had always been a calming presence on his own, and to curl up beside him at the end of the long, exhausting days that came with real work— that had been bliss.

now, with matthew gone and buried, sleep is far from simple. even if she does manage to fall into some sort of slumber, it's often plagued by the too-bright dreams of matthew standing in front of the church. she always feels like those nightmares are magnified — things too loud, too tense, too much — and watching her husband take a bullet to the chest, over and over...

well, it doesn't much make for restful nights.

opting to keep herself awake is sometimes proving preferable, because at least in those cases, she doesn't have the constant view of matthew's body bleeding slowly into the dust.

better, she reckons.

of course, finding herself with scant hours of sleep doesn't do emma a whole lot of good, and it's only through sheer force of will, through that fiery determination to see this all through that she doesn't succumb to exhaustion. after all, their time is limited, and what they do have ought to be reserved for preparations and readying rose creek for the oncoming storm. she does everything she can to help, doesn't even think to let it slow her down, and the only tell she has on an otherwise impressive poker face happens to be her eyes; they give away more than she would ever like to think. she covers it up with the kind of busy they all ought to be, and it's only moments when she finds herself alone that the tiredness sinks in.

but only as long as she lets it.

as for the preparations as they come together, at least when it has to do with the poorly-trained men she knows have been trying to improve...well, she's mildly disappointed she isn't out there with them working on her shooting. she's a fine hand with a rifle (less accomplished with a revolver, if she's honest), but she also expects she'd hear a fair share of complaints if she was kneeling in line with the other men, maybe some misguided attempts to dissuade her from the fight. she's going to fight, and emma won't hear another word to the contrary, but she knows how men can be and how quickly they'd insist that the battle would be no place for her.

absurd, is what that is, and unfortunate for her, because if she's honest, she wishes she could be out there with the others, learning from someone like goodnight robicheaux. what he can do with a rifle leaves emma in awe, and skills like that are a damn sight hard to come by, which, truly, is a loss in that she can't garner anything from his years of experience — not when she's left out or shooed away like she surely would be if she attempted to participate. however, that does mean she needs somewhere else to shoot, and the small watering hole vaguely removed from the town is a favorite spot of hers. it's quiet, and she's far less likely to find herself bothered while she's there — and there's plenty of things for her to shoot.

the afternoon sun beats down on her as she looks out across the water, rubbing a hand over her eyes to attempt to banish some of the exhaustion. the heat doesn't help any, and if anything, it reminds her of exactly how long it's been since she's gotten some proper shuteye. maybe it'll be a bit easier tonight, if she's this tired (she hopes).

straightening her posture, she shoulders her rifle, and readies her next shot. ]

[ goodnight robicheaux knows all about long, sleepless nights. truth be told, he hasn't really slept a full night in... well, a very long time, longer than he likes to admit to. the thing about sleep was that it often brought dreams. unfortunately for him, his life did not bring the good kind of dreams. he was haunted nearly every time he closed his eyes, plagued by a past that was always just on his heels, never letting him be. never letting him forget. of course it wasn't constant, and he didn't have nightmares every night, but his conscious never really let him be. the guilt was there, the regret, hidden just beneath the surface of all that southern charm.

he had kept it hidden from billy for a time after they'd first met, but his companion was clever. soon he had figured it out, but instead of leaving him he'd brought a kind of relief in the form of smokes. not ordinary cigarettes, of course, but god almighty did they ever work.

but he could not smoke all the time, and often he was in a perpetual state of exhaustion and nervousness. it had gotten worse lately, for the most obvious of reasons. he wasn't hiding it so well anymore. faraday was starting to see right through him, even sam was concerned.

he had to be more careful. he had to stay, despite all odds against him, and do this for his friend - for sam.

he had actually been taking a walk to get a bit of 'air' after breakfast and drinking in the saloon, when he heard the shooting down by the lake. he initially thought it might be one of the men from earlier, the pathetic ones he'd been trying to teach how to shoot. he sighs, mentally preparing himself to disparage someone who had no business being out here, wasting lead in a futile attempt to actually hit something.

but there was no mistaking that vivid, fiery hair that glints in the sunlight, down her back. their employer was not what he had been expecting when he'd first met her. fierce, commanding, unbending to his charm and innocent flirtations. he had decided then that he liked her. watching her shoot now only further increased the sentiment.

he waited until she'd taken a break, knowing better than to sneak up on someone with their finger on the trigger. impressed, goodnight whistled, clearly making his presence known. ]

If half the men in this town could shoot half as good as you, well, my services might no longer be required. [ he gave her a lazy, crooked grin as he stepped closer. ]

That was some mighty fine shooting, Miss Emma... but something tells me you can shoot even better than that.

[ emma is so prone to getting lost in her own mind when she's shooting like this, when the world narrows down to nothing but her and the gun in her hand and the crack of powder and lead. she's almost surprised to hear something else disturb the peace of the blazing afternoon, and she lowers her rifle, turning to look at her newest company.

she takes in the sight of goodnight, resting her gun in the crook of her elbow as she gives him a small nod of greeting. goodnight is a man emma can't quite peg: he's charming, articulate, but not the kind of man she'd expect to associate with sam chisolm — or the type to leap when sam comes calling. but, then again, most of the men that chisolm has assembled are not remotely the kind of heroes emma would have expected to come riding in to save her town.

but they'll do. ]

Thank you, Mister Robicheaux.

[ she knows she's good, and she doesn't much need a man to tell her the same — but polite woman that she is, she appreciates the compliment.

however, there's a challenge in that next statement, and her eyebrow lifts, just slightly. ]

Would you have me prove it, then?

[ she inclines her head slightly towards the targets she'd been shooting expectantly. ]

[ she's not the first woman he's seen to handle a gun, but she's certainly the most skilled woman with a gun he's ever seen. unlike most men, he wasn't completely of the mind that women shouldn't do what men do. it was just, he'd never had the chance to witness many women like emma. he has the stray thought that her husband was a very lucky man. not that he, himself, would ever be the sort to settle down and have a family. he wouldn't wish his demons on anyone, instead keeping to himself and the partnership he shared with billy.

he nods and touches his hat at her thank you. he's not one to sugarcoat things, and try to make a person feel good about themselves when they had no right to do as such. but he had a feeling emma knew that, too.

he smirks a little at her question, hands planted loosely on his lips... then shrugs a shoulder lightly. ]

Go on, then. [ Goodnight looked out at the targets on the water... before nodding toward them. ] That little branch there.

[ of course, a moving target would be ideal but this was what they had to work with. goodnight would be watching her at this closer range and inspecting her technique. he wasn't about to start yelling and shouting at her like he had those pathetic townsmen, but then, not only because she's a lady. she has more talent in her little finger than they've got combined. he had a feeling she was tired, but she certainly wasn't to be blamed, not after what she'd been through. the exhaustion had long since set into his bones, but sleep wasn't easy to come by these days.

he could only hope he could help her without succumbing to the darkness again. it had been nipping at his heels since coming to this town - closer and closer every day. fortunately, he'd had a smoke before this back in the saloon, and it's calming aftereffects lingered sill. ]

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( picture prompt meme )

no subject

hopefully this is actually coherent because it is late af whoops

it's perfection and i apologize for my measly tag!

pshhhh 'excellent' is more like it

score.