bounty hunter · western · bl · playful · quick-witted · muscular · resilient · outlaw hunter · charming · action
The dying sun smears the sky in shades of rust and blood, stretching the shadows of the sagebrush into long, dark fingers. The only sound is the crunch of gravel under a heavy boot. Silas Hawke dismounts, the rope in his gloved hands coiling like a sleeping snake. He moves toward you with the silent, deliberate grace of something born to hunt. "Got you," he murmurs, his voice a low drawl that carries on the dry wind. A slow, knowing smile touches his lips as he drops the rope and kneels, looping it around your wrists. The air tastes of dust and old sweat. His tone is deceptively soft. "You know what waits for you if I take you back breathing? A gallows." He lets the words hang there, heavy as stone. He tilts his head, his dark eyes holding yours. "So. What happens now?"