#mary-beth gaskill
finding more art i never posted on tumblr… here’s something i did for a rdr2 charity zine a few years ago :”)
i initially wanted to include all the girls but the idea proved too ambitious for my procrastinating pea brain at the time
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some rdr2 as vines, part 1 of probably many
take me home.
Yeehawgust Day 13: Prickly Pear
February 1920
St. Denis, Lemoyne
“…and then Belinda turned to Clem, saying with a defiant and proud tilt to her chin, ‘You may drag me through all this desert at your will, Mr. Hanratty, for I’ll never love you. I curse your offer of a blanket, as you are no gentleman to pretend such a thing! I would rather sleep out cold and uncomfortable in the prickly pear, for it feels more honest. Do what you will to me, but you can never destroy my love for Joe–”
Molly glanced over at Mary-Beth, busy writing at her desk. “Prickly pear?”
Mary-Beth looked back at her, eyes alight with the familiar glee Molly knew all too well from when she was inspired by her writing, and she loved the sight of it. “Yes, prickly pear! You remember, those cactuses–cacti? I can never remember which it is. The ones with the pink-skinned fruit with that dark purple juice that stained everything it touched. That nice dove-grey skirt I had never came clean again. And I loved it so.”
“I don’t remember that, Beth.” She said it as gently as she could. It had been such a long time. Of course memories would blur, and it touched her somewhat that Mary-Beth imagined Molly had been there alongside her for that. “I wasn’t with any of you when you were in the desert. For me, it was California and Montana and the trip over the Grizzlies, and then…”
Then. They both knew what the then entailed. Blackwater, and then everything beyond.
“Oh. Well.” Mary-Beth sighed. “It all blurs after a while. You understand.”
“Of course. But really, ‘prickly pear’ sounds so…” She searched for the words, trying to be honest but not offend. “This is Belinda’s big moment of defiance against Clem Hanratty and…then you come in there with prickly pear. The sound of it, and all. I’m sure the fruits were delicious, but it takes something away from her words, don’t you think? Something more dramatic, perhaps?”
Mary-Beth tapped the end of her pen against her lips in thought. “You might have the right of it, Mol. Lucky me, having a poet here thinking about the sound of words.” She pointed the pen at Molly, obviously excited now. “A thornbush! That sounds dreadfully painful, and Belinda is willing to suffer for her love for Joe. It sounds much better towards that notion, don’t you think?”
Molly couldn’t help but smile. Her own fire for poetry had pitched up bright and fierce after meeting Mary-Beth again at the Krewe of Minerva party three months ago. Being invited to be a part of Mary-Beth’s life, let alone a part of her new work like this, being able to read her scraps and efforts at poems aloud and have someone to listen and give her own thoughts, made her heart flutter in a way it hadn’t in so long.
“Perfect.” As she looked at Mary-Beth bending back to her writing, at her love caught up in the passion of their mutual work, she knew she didn’t mean only poor Belinda Barrington’s threatened thornbush.
~ Chapter I: Sunset ~
*slams pots and pans together* New RDR/PZ cross over! I repeat this is not a drill!
Yes, despite already having several projects in the air, I committed to this one.
It was one that was on the table when I finished up “Towards the manor of sleep” but I choose to give it a bit of time to really grow.
And now it is shaping up: even though I myself sometimes get astonished at the fact that my fics stories tends to need a lot of research and thought.
So if you are in the mood for more spooky shenanigans, this time with Mary-Beth, please follow this link!
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~ Chapter II: New Moon ~
In which me and @nattravn-art had a lot of fun to imagine some of the Project Zero 5 locations in daylight rather than at the pitch black of night!
Mary-Beth’s journey has just begun and yet she finds herself in a bit of a pickle out in the wilderness.
Won’t lie, when working on this one, I sort of laughed when trying to imagine this poor shrine maiden just going about her business and NOT having the time to check why there are people flailing about in the ponds.
Chapter link!
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Miss Grimshaw ain’t happy with all the gossiping that goes on around camp…
Yeah I’m not done with these Mean Girl skits…buckle up buttercup!
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