pacnitentia

[pacnitentia]

scfiabianco·:

maybe     it     was     the liquor running     through     her     veins,     but     in     that     moment,  sofia     felt relaxed,     not     worrying     about     what     was     ahead.     usually,     she     was     someone     who     worried. a     lot.     though,     as     of     late,     she     felt secure and safe.

standing     at     the     back     of     a     crowded     bar     as     she     listened     to     the      obscure     rock     band     that     was     playing,     the     blonde     moved     along     with    the     music     while     she     sipped     on     her     mimosa.     “this     is     so     fun…     are    you     having     fun?!”     she     called     out     as     best     she     could     to     the     person    next     to     her.

      she had already canceled her flight back to vancouver with the most recent development of her gift. kiara was not the happiest of campers --- she desired work and her familiar little home to contend with, not a large and very over-priced home filled with large and very over-priced things that she had to go through and probably sell (or bin, if she had her way). she wasn’t much of a drinker, not after watching what her father contended with for the first many years of her life, but it didn’t stop kiara from attending little concerts like this and enjoying herself regardless.

      there was something comforting about the garage band acoustics of these hole-in-the-wall parties. she was always the observer, learning the hand patterns of the guitarist or drummer, more than she was an active participant. from her place by the bar, with a seltzer in her hand, she admired the scene and allowed herself to relax ... for the first time in this damned country. it took a moment for her to realize that the question --- muffled over the clamor of the music but still heard, was aimed at her. kiara’s face blanked for a moment before she gave her muffled response back,

      “it’s not so bad. not the worst time i’ve ever had.”

[pacnitentia]

gcrawford·:

highbrow     events     were     a     common     occurrence     in     grace’s     life,     being    as    renowned     in     the     fashion     industry     as     she     was,     the     blonde     was used    to     the     parties,     but     sometimes     they     began     to bore her.     it     was  always    the     same…     expensive     liquor,     models     snorting     lines     in     the    bathroom,    fake     smiles     and     backhanded     compliments     to     people     you’d    wish     would    fall     off     the     face     of     the     earth.     frankly,     grace     solely    showed     up     for    the     liquor,     she’d     long     ago     tired     of     playing     nice    with     people     she     didn’t     like.

leaning     against     the     bar,     martini     in     hand,     her     icy     blue     eyes    scanned    the     vicinity,     she     knew     many     of     the     party’s     guests     but    there     were    hardly     any     she     cared     for,     it     had     always     taken     a     lot    to     peak     the    blonde’s     interest.

she     eventually     turned     back     to     the     bartender.     “can     i     get     a     shot    of    tequila?     actually…     make     it     two.”     she     requested,     her     gaze     going    to    the     person     next     to     her.     “this     shot’s     on     me.     maybe     it’ll     make  this    party     seem     that     bit     more     interesting.”

      attending high-brow parties was hardly on liam’s list of things to-do on his days off. it was a combination of two excuses: his boss’ insistence and a hobby of his most recent ex-girlfriend. she was glitz and glamour, dark dresses and designer matte lipstick that had liam rubbing shoulders with these people enough to garner invitations long after she had left the picture. i’ll spend an hour, two at maximum to seem polite, and then i’m at the pub he told himself ... and here he was.

      self-medication with shots or guinness were his particular method of clipping through. he’d chatted with a few of the guests, familiar faces who asked in their condescending way how surgery things were, and even then he could barely hear the interest in their voices ... but it didn’t matter. he was about ready to request a line of shots when the blonde beside him piped in and mentioned the tequila. a devil he hardly spent time with, but at this point it was the same band-aid as the shots of jameson were.

      “very kind of ya,” his eyes lingered on the blonde for a moment, a pleasant smile gracing his features, before he set them on the shot. he was patient --- waiting for hers to be poured as well before he lifted the glass to clink it in thanks, “here’s to hoping neither of us fall asleep through the rest of the party.”

[pacnitentia]

hollyxhart·:

It had been a long morning for Holly, instructing a class of under 12′s. She loved her job but that age group when herded together could be a challenge, she much preferred one on one lessons. She got paid better for them too. 

She was still dressed in a work out tennis skirt and polo shirt as she mad her way to her local cafe. She needed a coffee if she was going to endure the private lesson she had booked for that afternoon. 

Waiting in line, she was preoccupied with her phone, not realising she’d bumped right into the person in front of her. “Shit,” she murmured, looking up then and giving them a sheepish grin. “I’m so sorry… I wasn’t watching what I was doing. You okay?” She asked, head tilted a little, smiling at the other person. 

      anyone who happened to glance at liam could see the wear-and-tear of the double shift on him. by now, of course, he was used to the long hours and the constant moving. pulling a 3-11 and and immediate 11-7 was tiresome and like any other sane doctor in the world, his go-to fix was coffee ... and a lot of it. nose buried into his phone, liam waited for his place in line and only occasionally shuffled forward when his peripheral vision gave way that the human before him had also done so. it was a routine when this shift fell upon him: he was a learned zombie, by this point.

      midway through his e-mails he felt the soft bump. it didn’t necessarily register immediately, only when the soft shit hit his ears did liam realize --- that’s aimed at you. one final scroll of his thumb and he’d determined that whatever was in the inbox wasn’t as absorbing as he’d been lead to believe, and liam locked his phone with his ring finger.

      “it’s fine. just a bump.” accent eked through his words, but london was a melting pot by this point, someone always had something different coming out of their mouths. irish wasn’t special. the exhaustion written on his face must have come off through his words, and with a motion liam placed his phone into the pocket of his hoodie. “i’m alright. no harm no foul, eh?”

[pacnitentia]

[ TANAYA BEATTY. CISFEMALE. SHE/HERS. ] — KIARA TELFORD is a TWENTY SEVEN year old WELDER who hails from VANCOUVER, CANADA. according to their friends, they are CLEVER, but if you ask their enemies, they’d say SHE is COLD. maybe that’s why EASY BY SON LUX is their theme song.

triggers for: alcoholism, death.

Quick Facts!

Name: Kiara Lynn Telford. Nickname/Alias: None. Title: None. Age: 27. Date of Birth: February 4th, 1992. Sexual Orientation: Biromantic Bisexual. Occupation: Welder.

Is of Himalayan and First Nation (Da’naxda’xw) descent. She is incredibly proud of these two facts, but if you call her Pocahontas or anything related to that, she’ll deck you so hard in the mouth you’ll be shitting teeth.

Her mother disappeared from her life incredibly early. Kiara was raised solely by her father, an only child, into a true middle-class family. Since she became of an age to understand, she’s resented her mother for leaving the way she did.

Her father, while nothing but loving and incredibly devoted to giving his daughter the best life he possibly could, was a bit of a drinker. He never harmed Kiara in any fashion, however it was common for a young Kiara to walk herself home from school when he failed to show up to pick her up, and it was common for her to find him unconscious in the living room with liquor.

She always took care of her father: cleaning him up, getting him to bed, ensuring that he wasn’t going to hurt himself any further than he already did. Somehow he managed to pull himself together enough to go to work, and somehow he managed to function despite his heavy addiction.

But still, he was all Kiara had --- and she loved him dearly for taking on the responsibility of raising her to the best of his abilities despite his problems and being left alone to do to. She’ll stand that he was a good father with a few issues --- he went out of his way to spend spare weekends or time with her when work didn’t consume him.

Kiara gained her interest in her trade, welding, from her father. One of his weekend time-spenders was properly teaching Kiara how to use a MIG welder. When it came time for high school, Kiara instead enrolled in trade school.

She’s trained on an ARC, MIG and stick welding system, and she’s incredibly good at what she does.

When she was 21, Kiara buried her father. It was a relatively lonely ceremony, and Kiara inherited the house and all of the money he had to his name. It was enough, plus her own income, to live a comfortable and middle-class life. --- The life she always knew.

Recently she received notice from Estate Admin and Probate letters in England about the passing of her mother. Initially Kiara was disinterested: this woman wanted nothing to do with her throughout her childhood, why should Kiara be interested in her, now?

After a phone call, Kiara learned that her mother had been cheating on her father throughout their marriage. She had always intended on leaving him, but found it difficult when she fell pregnant. While Kiara’s mother wanted Kiara, she didn’t want to stay with her husband. So she fled to her rich, English boyfriend.

She had attempted to reach out and connect with Kiara over the years, however Kiara’s father always blocked communication in an attempt to protect her, or something of the sort.

Her mother’s new husband was old, old money, and large inheritance. Kiara, with a bitter taste in her mouth, assumes that the interest was only ever in that money --- which was left to her after the passing of her mother.

The order of events goes like this: Kiara’s father passes away. Kiara’s unknown step-father (rich and old) passes away three years later. Kiara’s mother passes away a few months ago. Kiara’s unknown step-father had no children --- he was sterile, and Kiara’s mother only had the one daughter --- her. Through order of operations and a lack of a pre-nup, the estate and all encompassed passes from the decadent (Kiara’s mother) to her daugher (Kiara) --- a final attempt to patch at the shitty relationship they always had.

And so, Kiara is here. Her plan is to rifle through the estate and sell most of it to move back home, however she’s taken a temporary welding position to keep her own income ... it’s strange to adjust to the new money, and she’s still coping with the scenario as a whole.

[pacnitentia]

[ COLIN O'DONOGHUE. CISMALE. HE/HIS. ] — LIAM MURDOCH is a THIRTY EIGHT year old EMERGENCY ROOM SURGEON who hails from DUBLIN, IRELAND. according to their friends, they are DETAIL-ORIENTED, but if you ask their enemies, they’d say HE is CALLOUS . maybe that’s why CAPSIZE BY BIG BLACK DELTA is their theme song. triggers for: mentions of bombs & political/religious strife.

Quick Facts!

Name: Liam Murdoch. Nickname/Alias: None. Title: Doctor. Age: 38. Date of Birth: August 19th, 1981. Sexual Orientation: Heteromantic Heterosexual. Occupation: Emergency Room Surgeon.

Heavy Irish accent inbound! (In the past I used to type out accents for characters, but it’s too much of a chore, so please read Liam’s speech with that lazy, Irish lull Colin beautifully has.)

While Ireland has certainly seemed to find a tenuous peace among its choppy waters, it’s only with the political outburst and aftershocks (Brexit) that brought it there --- the Ireland that Liam grew up in was heavily influenced by the presence of the IRA and RIRA, a prominent theme of his childhood.

It wasn’t uncommon for young boys to be drafted into the service of the roving groups, often used as proxies or spies to deliver or listen in on various things. It wasn’t uncommon to find a 14 year old boy blown partially away by a car bomb. Liam was fortunate that his scars aren’t so horrible.

His father was a low-ranking member of the IRA, and through those connections so-to was his mother. While her involvement was less direct, she ran a safe house for members on the busy streets of Northern Belfast and it wasn’t uncommon for Liam to see men young and old drifting out of his home either in one piece and seeking shelter or in many seeking medical aid.

It was inspiration for his desire to become a doctor --- but just not there. Despite being dragged into the hellish scape of the religious and political wars that the IRA fueled, Liam attempted early to claw his way out of the underbelly.

He lost part of his hearing on the right side due to a premature bomb detonation. He’s fortunate that was all he lost, but to this day he only has about 75% hearing.

But he worked hard in school and when he came of age ... he ran. Dangerous for him to do in that organization, Liam saved up some scratch and booked it out of Ireland. For a period of time he lives almost homeless in England as he made his way through various odd jobs and schooling. Eventually his stellar grades assisted him in landing a spot in medical school.

He worked his fingers basically to the bone, and through blood, sweat and tears he graduated with a medical degree --- a surgeon.

Residency passed and now he can be found in the emergency room of St. Thomas’ Hospital most of the time.

Despite all the years that have passed since his exit from home, Liam still looks over his shoulder in fear that the people he ran from may be there.