DISCLAIMER: All rights belong to their rightful owners. This was written purely for entertainment and practice, not profit.
AU: Constant Stumbling (Old West)
CHARACTERS: Main focus is on Ezra Standish and Buck Wilmington -both are kids- during the first parts. Chris Larabee and the rest of the Seven will be joining later on.
SUMMARY: Even the strongest whirlwinds could not blow those two leaves away.
WARNING: This story contains a load of child abuse, both physical and sexual, but there's nothing more than mentioning or even mere hinting of such. Violence has a major role in this story, I'm afraid :
AUTUMN LEAVES
PROLOGUE;
The windows shuddered and trembled as the storm winds roughly shoved them backwards, furious at the denial of their access into the warm building; angry and frustrated at their inability to fulfill their duty to bring forth chaos and destruction wherever their path led them. The barriers endured the attack, supported by the nailed shutters, which prevented the glass from backing down from the fight; a strong backbone.
The building moved along with the flow, the wood boards creaking in the cold like shattering teeth, protesting against the harsh conditions and effectively succeeding in creating a disturbing melody with the other noises emitting from behind the doors of various doors; the brothel was full of customers despite the weather, men preferring a different source of heat other than settling before a fireplace, drifters seizing an opportunity.
The building made the ugly sound again, noises which usually accompanied ghost stories, and a pair of small hands grabbed the railing of the second floor, heart pumping and racing as brilliantly blue eyes studied the interior structure in fear, expecting the brothel to crumble like a poorly built house of cards.
Taking a deep breath, she placed a hand on her confined bosom, silently reminding herself of the safety the building had provided in previous similar situations; willing her heart to calm down as the little muscle overtaxed itself in fear.
A loud noise and a blow of winds harassing her exposed skin caused her to gasp, and it was only after she was certain nothing had collapsed that she let the trapped breath rush out through her lips, a sense of relief washing over her, only to cower away at the sight by the entrance, where the doors were wide open, allowing the cold and the newcomers inside the infamous whorehouse.
The winds were enthusiastic at the opportunity, sweeping the lighter items into their arms and leading them in a reluctant dance, similar -yet more gentle- to the way the man, who kicked the double doors open, had dragged a small child behind him, before throwing him onto the ground as soon as they were out of the storm and inside the decreasingly warm embrace of a building the offered such for a price. The heavily dressed stranger did not seem regretful as he watched the kid attempt to stand, succeeding only in getting to his trembling knees, a puddle forming beneath him as water streamed down blue-tinged limbs, clothes too thin and shredded to ward off the storm's anger.
The shock had yet to wear off, but the few men present rushed to shut the doors, grunting and cursing as they struggled against the wind, pushing and shoving the wooden barrier, their muscles screaming at the agony of being fully rigid as bursts of energy kept on exploding in the lithe bodies, willing them to do their best for survival; the brothel was already losing all the warmth it had contained, and the women -their skimpy outfits too exposing and thin- were in risk of catching death where they stood.
With one final shared yell, the double doors were violently shut, shuddering and shaking, as a fighting man would after draining all his energy; heaving, panting and staying in place. The sounds of the worsening storm were not able to drown the strained gasps leaving the bouncers, and they turned around to keep an eye on the stranger, their trembling muscles tense and ready for action.
"What is the meaning of this?" The woman who addressed the standing newcomer was exquisite, yet her eyes had the one of the deadliest glares as she measured the man before her. The cold was incapable of cooling her boiling blood, her heart hammering with rage at the sight of a mere child struggling with each shallow breath, hardly hanging on to the fine thread of life. With a hand gesture, rapid set of motions started taking place as two young women rushed to the boy's side, using a cloak of one outfit to dry him, strong arms carrying him away from the water he had brought in and into the arms of either of them, while being rubbed viciously; an attempt to bring some warmth back to the frozen boy.
"I'll take whatever you have to offer for the kid." The stranger grinned, pulling his hat off of his head, uncaring to the stares he was receiving as he wrung it tight, before slapping it against the nearby counter that sat next to the entrance, "I bet you have a place for one of 'em, something I'm lacking at the moment."
The woman hissed, her beautifully aging face contorted in an ugly snarl at the words that left the man's mouth. She stepped forward, unable to contain her rage as the stranger continued to market his product, a pleasant smile plastered on his face as if he was dealing silverware on a beautiful Sunday morning, but a small hand on her forearm stopped her advancement and she only needed to look at the tearing blue eyes before she was uttering the acceptance to purchase.
"We'll take him."