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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 21, 2006 1:54:37 GMT -5
Hmmm, wonder if that's in the same place as Kelvin Inman? Is it perhaps when they met? Guess I have no choice but to wait and see!
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Post by Severin on Nov 1, 2006 19:03:58 GMT -5
Severin's eye flickered open, seeing the ceiling above him. The apartment wasn't exactly impressive, but it was far from hideously unlivable. It was reasonably comfortable, quiet most of the time, and relatively easy to clean. Well, of course. It only had one occupant, and he usually tidied up after himself.
Leonora visited every week to counsel him, like Kelvin said, and soon, her visits increased over the months. Kirby wrote him plenty of letters, most with detailed plans of escape and conspiracy theories laid out. On occasion, though, he just drew stick figures of himself as a cowboy.
He had been happier then he'd been for a very long time, and he had a small job as a caretaker in an opera house. It wasn't particularly fulfilling, and he had to get up very early to get to it, but he had enough time off, it paid just enough, and he was...just happy. Just happy.
Well maybe not. One thing that gnawed at him was his father, who in the past seven months, had not even attempted to contact him. Nor had Severin contacted his father. They had nothing to say to each other, but it was always in the back of his mind, dreading an eventual confrontation.
But for now, lying in bed as morning light creeped through the windows, he was happy.
He yawned slightly, and then felt soft lips against his neck. He smiled gently, looking over at Leonora, who smiled back up at him. "And this is why I love home counseling." he growled, and kissed her hard on the mouth, one hand running over her long, red hair, and the other-
"And you took your pills?" she asked, half moaning as he kissed down her neck. He stopped, sighing slightly.
"Oh, very sexy. I didn't know you were so good at dirty talk." he said, irritated she'd bought it up. He rolled off her, sitting up. "Yes, I took my pills."
"I just need to make sure is all. It isn't for much longer, I promise. You've really come far." she said, sitting up as well, and shifting closer to him. "A new environment, it's been healthy and good for you, you just need to keep taking the pills-"
"Can we talk about this some other time?!
Leonora sighed, and shrugged, curling up in bed again. He felt immediate guilt, and said, "Sorry, I'm just...I'm going to get some breakfast."
He got out of bed, pulling on his underwear and jeans. He looked back at the bed, seeing that Leonora had rolled over into his place. "Hey-"
"You leave warmth behind. Now fetch me breakfast."
"Most girlfriends ask nicely." he smiled, laughing slightly.
"Some girlfriends don't need to ask." she said, smiling up at him, and she winked. "And you know I'm desperately lazy, Sev. You cook and clean the place, I sometimes come around to shove pills down your throat and have sex."
"Ah, of course. You're just using me, as I suspected." he replied, buttoning up his shirt. "Vicious and remorseless."
"Yeah, but you love it when I'm all evil. Now, breakfast. Chop chop!"
He laughed, heading out the door, which led directly into the kitchen and main room. "I might just put some pills in your eggs this morning. I can play evil doctor too." he called in, and before Leonora could reply, the phone began to ring. The phone on his nightstand. He headed for the bedroom, stopping in the doorway as Leonora picked it up.
"Resident illegal animal neutering clinic, you pay, we spay." she said, continuing her track record of answering his phone calls with comments that usually made the person on the other end hang up. He couldn't help but laugh, as much as it annoyed him. Then, her smile disappeared, and so did his.
"What? Yeah, yeah, I...one moment..." Severin looked at her curiously, entering the room. She took the phone away from her ear, and whispered. "Sev, it's your father."
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Post by Severin on Nov 4, 2006 15:46:30 GMT -5
Severin had spent a lot of time in his father's office. Since he was a child, he would wait in his father's office, for any reason. If he was waiting to be driven home, if he was helping out around the museum, if he was in trouble....besides, he saw his father at work more than he saw him at home. What struck him was that it was always the same.
Every little detail. He was even uncertain if the coaster had even been moved on that big, wooden desk and ancient chair, which looked like it had been hand-carved, as if was some ancient Tolkien wizard's home. When he was a child...and yes, now...it had made him feel small. Insignificant. Unable to stand up for himself.
The phone call had been brief, formal and coldly polite. A meeting. Well, it wasn't like Severin had anything better to do, and Leonora had....strongly insisted. Psychiatrist, after all.
And now he was nervous. Dreading when his father would walk through that big, stiff wooden door with 'Sir Peter Darling' inscribed on the front of the door.
He sighed, looking up at the ceiling, and then looked back down. That's when he saw it. A small, black book, quite thin and ordinary. It wouldn't have caught his attention if he hadn't known how out of place it seemed. Peter kept only his tax books on his desk, all the big thick classics on the bookshelf against the wall stayed on the shelf.
The door creaked open behind him, and Peter walked in, sitting down in his chair. He studied Severin for a moment and then said in his slow, slight Scottish accent, "Hello, Percy."
"Hello, Peter. The museum hasn't changed much."
"No, no. Not much at all."
More silence. Something Severin couldn't handle. He leaned forward in his chair. "Peter, look, if you're looking for forgiveness then-"
"For what?"
That stopped Severin right away. What? What? He must've known what he'd done. That what he'd done was wrong. "For putting me in that place. In the hospital."
"I shouldn't be sorry for that, it was for your own good. Don't you believe it was for the good? Aren't you better now?"
Severin stared. And he stood. "I'm leaving."
"Percy, for God's sake, be mature about this. I'm offering you a job-"
"You don't know anything!" erupted Severin, suddenly furious. "About all the pain, and the nightmares, and these pills I still have to take, and all the shit I've gone through because you thought I wasn't well. I went to war, Dad! I did what you wanted! Everything that's happened to me is your fault!"
Peter stared up at him, his mouth open slightly in shock. "Oh, Percy, I didn't mean for any of those things-"
"Forget this. Forget all of this, I don't need your job. I have enough money to live on until I get one on my own." Severin tore his coat off the hook, and ripped open the door.
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Post by Severin on Dec 5, 2006 12:13:34 GMT -5
Severin folded up the paper, holding it over his head as he ran for the shelter of the bus stop. The rain fell from the sky, pummeling the ground in massive, wet streaks. The rain soaked right through his coat, right down to his skin, and as the wind changed, his face was hit by a tide of the falling water. His face stinging, he reached the bus stop. Unfortunately, it didn't look like the bus was going to stop.
He reached the door, and as he took a step up, there was a sudden weight on his foot. The cold afternoon had been dark and obscured by the rain; he hadn't seen the tall, thin figure wrapped neatly in a long, grey trench-coat. Shadows of the man's hat concealed his face as he tried to step off the bus. This resulted in a collision, and the man gave a short yell as both fell over backwards.
Severin landed in the middle of a large puddle, the man on top of him. "God! Sorry, mate!" Severin looked up as the man stood, in time to see the bus move off through the rain. He cursed under his breath. Then, a wet hand offered him assistance, and Severin took it. Why be angry, after all? He had been late, and had simply not seen the man. He stood, and then realized he knew the voice from someone. A careful, smoothly placed voice.
"Patrick? Patrick?" he asked, raising his voice, which was almost drowned out due to the rain.
The man stopped, suddenly, and now Severin could see his face better. "Patrick!"
"Sev? Is that you?" And then Severin saw it. The grin. The great, white grin, the rows of perfectly brushed, well-flossed teeth. Patrick Caseon. Now there was a memory.
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Post by Severin on Jan 22, 2007 15:53:36 GMT -5
Patrick Caseon was quite the man. Severin remembered him from his days back in the army, back in the sand and blood. An enthusiastic, intelligent, sharp-tongued soldier, but they'd never been especially close. And yet, here they were, sitting in a small diner and reminiscing as the rain pounded the outside window.
"And after I'd been fired from that job...I openly considered prostitution and pimping in front of a man I later discovered to be clergy." explained Caseon as he sipped his coke. "But other than the string of jobs in which I'd been ruled over by either tyrants or idiots, I've been fine. You? Last I heard, you were shipped off to the loony bin. Guess that was one rumor that didn't turn out to be true, what with you being here, and all."
Severin sighed a little. "I..." He wasn't lying. Just...distorting the truth. "I'm doing well. I'm unemployed, but I've got enough money to keep myself afloat for...a few more months. I'm looking at the moment. I've got a woman back in my life."
"Let me guess, let me guess.....redhead, and she has a job that requires her to wear a uniform you'd rather see her wear 24/7."
"Yes, and no. But good attempt." he smirked.
Patrick grinned. That wide, white grin. "No and yes for me. Nurse. Blonde. Lucky me, ay?"
"Lucky you."
"Lucky her, she dropped out of my life a couple months back. Didn't have to deal with my shit, did she?" said Caseon, forcing a smile. Severin gave a pitying nod, saying, "Yeah...better off without you, right?"
"Yeah, yeah!" he said quickly, nodding and tapping the table restlessly. There were a few moments of silence, with Severin trying to think of what to say next.
"Course...I'm not happy, but neither are you.." he said, relaxing back into his chair casually.
Severin raised his eyebrows. "I'm not?"
"You're not happier with a leash. You like being free, just like me. Free to do what you want, and that's exactly what you used to do." he explained, lowering his voice. He leaned forward again. "Back in the day, the blistering heat...the gun in your hand, and all of that power. I want it back, and I'm ready to bet, so do you."
"I'm trying to forget all that, Pat. You should, too." replied Severin coldly. His reply elicited a hearty laugh from Caseon.
"Oh, forget, forget, forget!" shouted Caseon, clearly getting irritated. "I don't...I'm not sure I can keep at it, you know. I'm surviving right now, but y'know what I'm doing? Selling on the street, heroin and all sorts of crap. I'm not using, I gave that up long again, but...but oh Jesus, what am I doing?"
He looked up at Severin, and he could see that Patrick's face had softened, his eyes a little watery. "All the bull that the drugs put me through when I was younger, and now I'm getting more people onto 'em. I want it to be simpler, Sev. You, me, Sarge, the boys, the moving targets that shriek about their Gods that never save 'em. It was simpler, wasn't it? But here...the real world..." Caseon looked away again. "It's so harsh, and so....so banal in it's cruelty. I don't know who I am, anymore."
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Post by Severin on Mar 28, 2007 12:11:06 GMT -5
Caseon mustn’t have had anywhere terribly important to go, because at a few minutes past midnight, he was still talking and walking with Severin, who kept his trenchcoat bundled up under his arm.
The car park was completely empty, save for the occasional passing car on the nearby road. Severin strode casually, while Caseon leaped in every puddle he possibly could, even when they were halfway across the car park.
“All right, we’ve frequented almost every fish and chip shop in England, brought sinful amounts of alcohol and then gave them to beggars because you don’t drink and if you don’t drink, I don’t drink.” Said Caseon casually as he jumped in another puddle. “We called every one of my ex-girlfriends and then I convinced you to ditch the trench coat and remember you’re not Neo. And then we gossiped about George Bush like he was Lindsey Lohan and we were columnists for Heat. Can we go to Cadbury world now?”
Severin laughed loudly. “Maybe some other time. I should probably be getting home and repenting for giving alcohol to the homeless.”
“They’re not homeless. Just trying to con us.”
“Yes, don’t tell the Red Cross, though. They’re very committed to the lie.”
Caseon smirked. “Sarcasm from Mr Darling. How new.” He stopped, just standing in the middle of a puddle, ankle-deep. His expression softened to the way he had been when they had been catching up earlier, and he glanced downwards at his silhouetted reflection in the puddle lit by a failing street lamp. He looked back up, and turned to Severin. “Need a favour, Sev.”
“Of course..?”
Caseon smiled sadly and nodded. He reached behind himself, and pulled a small .38 revolver from his belt. He tossed it to Severin, who barely caught it as he took a step back in surprise. “Shoot me in the head or heart. I’ve never used a .38 before, so I’m not sure if it’ll be messy, or if I’ll have a wake, or whatever. Go on. Before I lose my nerve.”
Severin stared down at the gun in his hand. “Jesus Christ, Patrick. I’m calling someone…” He took his mobile phone out, and instantly, it was snatched out of his hand. Caseon dropped it to the ground, and stamped on it.
“Will you hurry up and kill me?” he asked heatedly.
“What the hell are you talking about? Of course I won’t kill you!”
“Why not? There’s no point in me being alive anymore, I’ve done my part and from here on, it’s all mediocre successes, disappointing failures and hoping to die before you have to suffer the indignity of needing someone to wipe your arse for you! I thought you were a friend, God….”
“I am a friend!” protested Severin, growing even angrier. “And all right, tough guy. If you’re so ready to die, why don’t you pull the trigger yourself?”
“I’m scared, obviously!” Caseon threw his hands up dramatically, and started kicking about in his puddle, like an angry child. “I have tried so many times! And then I realized I’d never be able to do it, so you have to! God Almighty, you’re like the rest of them. Walsh and Penn and all the others who I thought would understand and do me a favour. I’ve gone through every single soldier I served with. You’re the last one, and you won’t even help me.”
Severin glared at Patrick Caseon, who stopped kicking in his puddle. Switching from the unstable, fuming, childish man to the scared, lonely and suicidal one. “I’m not a good person, Sev. With the exception of my last girlfriend, I haven’t done a good thing in my life. My Dad wasn’t any good either. Neither was my Grand-dad. I’m nothing but a stupid soldier with racists and rapists as my ancestors. There are no good Caseons. It’s time we ended.” He looked back up at Severin with dark eyes. “It’s fate that this should happen. Just fate.”
Severin stared back with a stony glare. He snapped the gun open, emptying the bullets out, letting them fall into a grate. He tossed the useless gun at Caseon’s feet, with a heavy splash as it disappeared into the puddle. “I don’t believe in fate.”
Severin turned around, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and began to walk away.
He could hear Caseon behind him. “You must be joking! Sev! Severin!”
“Go home, Patrick.”
“Percy! Please!”
He didn’t look back. He could hear soft crying behind him. And then faint, whispering words he wouldn’t have heard if there was just one other person there. “I don’t want to be alone.”
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Post by Severin on Mar 28, 2007 12:48:06 GMT -5
Name: Private Ross Walsh Age: 31 What you do: A soldier. Appearance: Overview: Funny, well-liked, enthusiastic and good-hearted. Name: Private Jeffrey Hatch Age: 29 What you do: A soldier. Appearance: Overview: Cynical, snarky, jaded and selfish. Name: Medical Officer Marty Penn Age: 37 What you do: A medic in the British army. Appearance: Overview: A little cowardly at times, but a genuinely good and caring person who comes through.
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Post by Severin on Mar 31, 2007 17:55:55 GMT -5
Patrick Caseon was all but out of Severin’s mind. It had been one month since he’d left him stranded in the car park, and he’d tried to forget. After all, no reason to remember. So forgetting was his only option.
Caseon didn’t want to make it easy, however. Severin hadn’t even seen him, but dodging his increasingly nonsensical messages was a whole other ball game. However, there weren’t as many as there used to be. One every hour had gone to one every day, and now, he hadn’t had a message for a whole four days.
Perhaps he was shirking his responsibility. Avoiding his duty. But no, what was he expected to do about anything? Patrick wasn’t his concern.
He headed down the hallway, past all the eviction notices on the doors, until he reached one without. The rent had gone up, but Leonora was keeping them afloat. Still, a job would be a good thing. Not that he was considering taking his father’s job, oh no, absolutely not. That wasn’t why he stood outside his father’s museum for twenty minutes in the pouring rain. Oh no.
His hand curled around the door knob, and he walked right in. Leonora must be home.
“Leonora? Are you home already?” he called, hanging up his coat. No reply, but the sound of a knife chopping from the kitchen alerted him to her presence. Although Leonora rarely cooked.
“You’re cooking for once? Well, that’s a rarity-“
He stopped suddenly, standing perfectly still as he entered the kitchen. He dropped his keys to the floor, his hands trembling.
Patrick Caseon was in his kitchen, cutting celery, wearing a bright pink apron, decorated with flowers. He looked up as Severin entered, and smiled kindly. “Hello, Percy. I’m just making a….” he glanced down at the celery, and then looked back up. “Well, I don’t know what I’m making, but I’m sure it’ll be nice when I finish my mystery meal.”
“Get out.”
“That’s rude.”
“So is entering another man’s house. Now get out.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“I want you gone before Leonora gets home.” Severin moved around the table, his fists clenched in rare anger. “Now get-“
“Leonora? Don’t worry about her, we’ve already been introduced. When you left this morning, I decided to have some alone time with her. Called her work, told them she wouldn’t be in, and then we had a nice, long chat over some tea.”
Severin froze. A chill crawled slowly and steadily up his spine, and he felt his legs tremble, as if they’d become no more than flimsy stilts. “What did you do?” he asked quietly. Then, he rose his voice, seizing Caseon by the collar. “What in God’s name did you do?? I swear, if you’ve touched a hair on her head-“
And that’s when it struck him. Caseon wanted someone to kill him, and no one had been willing to. So he had found another way, trying to give Severin motivation.
“Where is she? Where is she!?” he shouted, flecks of spit coating Caseon’s face. The thinner man wiped his eyes, and then said simply, “She’s in the garden.”
Severin stared for a moment, and then threw Caseon against the fridge. Caseon smashed his head against the corner, and hit the ground. Sev turned, and following the noise of the rain outside, shot for the bedroom. The window was wide open, and he jumped out, a few feet down, into the garden.
In only jeans and a shirt, the rain drenched through his clothes to his flesh, making his shirt cling to his skin tightly. His hair was quickly soaked, the rain obscured his vision as he glared around the garden. “Leonora!” he called, putting a hand to his forehead.
It was too much, way too much. It was like some kind of trick. It was too surreal. A bad dream. Like Leonora had been wiped from the face of the Earth. It was too much, bearing down at him, and the utter helplessness of being unable to do a damn thing.
And then he saw it. The shovel, standing upright, dug into the ground. And just before it, the grass…the ground, disturbed, and moved. His eyes widened in nothing less than a powerful horror unlike anything he’d experienced before. But he could be terrified later. For now, something had to be done. He grabbed the shovel, digging it into the ground, tearing dirt and roots up, ripping deep into the earth.
It seemed like it took years. Like every time he uncovered another piece of earth, it grew heavier. He threw the shovel away, leaping into the new, deep hole, and began to dig with his hands.
Wet mud smeared his trousers, shirt and hands, and then he felt something. A nose.
Deeper. A pale, beautiful face. Red hair covered in muck. He wrapped his powerful arms around Leonora Torres, and pulled her up, cradling her close to him, tears streaking down his face as he realized the real truth.
It was his fault. He’d ignored Patrick Caseon, an unstable lunatic. He could’ve gotten him help, found a way to help him. But no. He had been selfish. He’d tried to forget even as Caseon persisted. This had happened because of him. All because of him.
He lifted Leonora, emerging from the grave as the rain began to subside. He walked slowly back towards their home, managing to go back in through the window.
He gently laid her down on their bed, stroking her hair lightly. He leant down, and kissed her on the head. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, closing his eyes for a moment as he leaned his head against hers. Then, he stood.
“Patrick.” He said calmly. “Come here.”
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Post by Severin on Mar 31, 2007 18:52:33 GMT -5
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Gwen Havers
Help Translate Rousseau's Maps
Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
Posts: 2,010
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Post by Gwen Havers on Mar 31, 2007 19:11:59 GMT -5
Oh, man, rip my heart, why don'tcha? I felt bad for Caseon at first, but I think I've changed my mind. Poor Sev. *sniffle*
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Post by Severin on Apr 12, 2007 17:20:00 GMT -5
Severin was waiting. Patrick was late. First visit, too. Severin was the only visitor he’d had, ever. Not since the day Severin had turned him over to the police. Not once in those two years. And he was late.
For a moment, Severin adjusted himself in the uncomfortable seat, and then he saw him. Patrick Caseon. Looking like he hadn’t aged at all, but he didn’t have the energetic grin. He frowned instead, and it looked almost un-natural. Yes, remorse didn’t suit Caseon. He looked more like a dog that knew it had done something wrong just before you hit it with a newspaper.
Severin picked up the phone first, staring, unblinkingly past the glass. Caseon stared back, with a little more timidity, and picked up the phone. “Hello, Patrick.”
“Hello, Percy. Why…why are you here?”
“My employer…my father…tells me that it would be good for me. To confront you. To tell you how what you did…affected so many other people.” He said tonelessly. “I’m sure you know. But Leonora is catatonic. They say she might never come out of it. The trauma, you see. She’s extremely claustrophobic. I didn’t know that. Did you?”
“Percy-“
“Let me finish speaking. Her mother has taken up smoking again. At her age, it probably doesn’t matter, but still. That’s an effect. Her father is a ghost of the person he once was. As you know, your own mother was so ashamed she committed suicide-“ “Percy, please. Don’t do this.”
“Suicide. She was so ashamed her son, little Patrick, could torture a woman for hours. And then bury her alive. Then there’s me.” Severin paused, and leaned in closer. He didn’t blink, staring directly at Caseon. His voice became progressively lower as he talked to Caseon. “I wake up every day. I dress Leonora. I feed her. I talk to her, she never replies because the doctors say she can’t hear me. I talk to her anyway. I bathe her. I brush her hair. And I beg for a smile. Anything more than a heartbeat and vacant eyes.”
Severin paused for a moment. No change in the expression of either men. He raised his voice, so he sounded almost cheerful. “But, no point in dwelling, I suppose. I mean, I’m not even getting through, am I? You’re just standing there like an animal before feeding time, waiting before you can shuffle off with the rest of your kind and dig in. Tell me, do you still want to die?”
Patrick paused, and then shook his head.
“No? I thought you really wanted to. I mean, you wanted it badly enough to hurt yourself. Oh, wait, no. You hurt Leonora. You hurt me. Not yourself. So, what was Leonora, then? Victim of an agenda, or a phase?”
Patrick was silent for a moment. Then, he began to talk slowly and deliberately. “What I did was monstrous. Unforgivable. And…all I can really say is that-“
“If you say ‘I’m sorry’, I will do everything in my power to kill you.”
Caseon was silent, swallowed, and looked down. “I don’t think you will.”
“Don’t think you know me, Patrick. Don’t even pretend.”
“I won’t, I…I don’t. But that day…you didn’t kill me. You beat me to within an inch of my life, and any other man would’ve taken that inch.” Said Caseon. “Instead, I went in here, and everything changed. I became a better man. I started counselling, I turned my life around. I…well, thank you.”
Severin stared at him incredulously, speechless. He clenched his fist tightly. “She can’t smile anymore. I was in love with her. With her eyes. Her smile. She doesn’t smile, her eyes are empty, there’s nothing there, there’s…nothing…there….” He couldn’t contain himself any longer. He stood, and threw the phone at the glass, making Caseon jump back. Severin attacked the glass, his palms pressed flat against it. “Nothing there! There’s nothing, Caseon! Nothing left!”
A pair of guards leapt at him, restraining him. “I hope you never sleep well again! I hope you see her and me everywhere, I hope you see everyone you hurt! You took away everything! Everything!”
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Post by Severin on Jun 9, 2007 15:42:34 GMT -5
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Post by Severin on Jul 9, 2007 14:37:31 GMT -5
Percy Severin Darling, fifteen years old, kept his grip on the hunky shotgun that was far too big for him. He was scrawny, with a fresh young face and gloves that made his hands look like a clown’s. He stumbled over every rock, every branch, every bump in the ground. And in a thick forest like the one he was in now, it meant he almost tripped up every few seconds.
Ahead of him were two men, his father Peter, and the other was a long-time hunting partner of Peter’s. Francis Heatherton, and both looked much more professional with their guns, hunting clothes, and the way they traversed the land. They were far ahead, talking and laughing with Peter occasionally looking over his shoulder at his son. He would throw a disappointed look or a harsh, ‘hurry up, boy’.
For the longest time, Percy wished Francis was his father. Not Peter. Francis wouldn’t force him to come hunting. Percy hadn’t even wanted to come, and here in was for the first time holding a gun in the middle of some God-forsaken forest.
Then, there was silence. The talking had stopped up ahead, and the two huntsmen were now silent, crouching and advancing forward silently. “Dad?” asked Percy, and staggered up to them. “Dad, what’s-“
“Sssh!” commanded his father quickly, and then motioned for him to follow as the pair of them advanced forward. And then every step he took, every twig that broke underfoot felt like an explosion ripping across the forest, alerting the prey to their presence.
It seemed to take forever to find their prey. A young deer, with it’s back to them, drinking from a stream. Young. Oblivious. Alone.
“Take the shot, boy. Right there, take it!” whispered his father hoarsely, pushing Percy forward.
After a moment of shock, he started to carefully take aim, the gun shaking in his hand. He took a single step forward, and then stumbled, tripping and sliding down towards the stream. By complete accident, he squeezed the trigger, sending a shot into the air and the butt of the gun into his gut. He was winded, and the deer was off.
Percy heard two more shots, and the swears of his father. “Francis, try and circle round to cut it off! You, boy, get up and chase it! Shoot it!”
He felt himself lifted off his feet and pushed forward across the shallow stream that entered his too-big boots, and before he knew it he was sprinting. His lungs on fire, his legs tearing apart beneath him. But he was moving forward, the wind whipping his face relentlessly.
This was insanity. There was no way to outrun a deer, not with a massive shotgun in hand and-
A sudden, brown movement flashing in the corner of his eye. He turned, and fired without taking aim. And the sound of a body hitting the ground.
“Bloody hell, good shot, Percy!” came the loud voice of Francis from far off. And then, more grudgingly but meaningful all the same, “Nice job, boy” from his father.
He felt a rough hand on his shoulder as Peter patted him. “Now, go finish it off. It’s suffering.”
Suffering.
The smile faded slowly from Percy’s face. He looked away from his father approving face, and slowly started to move forward. Not stumbling, not tripping. Just moving until he reached the body. A beautiful, limber animal that a few moments ago had been filled with energy. Now, it was doing everything it could do to keep breathing.
He crouched near it, very close to it. He looked directly into its eyes. Big, innocent, soulful dark eyes that looked up at him. He reached out slowly and stroked its neck. Eyes like headlights that were fading slowly. “I’m sorry. Sor-ree.” He whispered, almost choking on his words. And then, before the lights faded completely, there was another gunshot and the lights went out.
He glanced over his shoulder at his father, standing with a grim look, having finished off the deer. He shook his head at his son with a disappointed look. He reached down and snatched the gun off him before snarling, “Go wait in the car.”
Percy Severin Darling stood, keeping his gaze down. He ripped his gloves off, and headed off in the direction of the car.
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Post by Severin on Aug 17, 2007 17:32:49 GMT -5
Name: Debbie Age: 27 What you do: A receptionist. Appearance: Overview: Optimistic, energetic, fun, but a little shy around people she doesn't know.
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Post by Severin on Aug 17, 2007 17:33:19 GMT -5
Slowly, Percy Severin Darling opened his eyes, and felt an intake of stale air. He coughed, raising his head off the sofa, blearily looking around at his apartment. The same sight he’d woken up to for the past four months. Peeling wallpaper. Drawn curtains. Shut windows. The only sound coming from the slow whirl of a fan. Empty glasses on tables and on the ground.
Yes, certainly a familiar sight. Ever since he got out of the army, this had been his home. An apartment building that was falling apart, piece by piece. Filled with…anxious new couples, young people in their first home, screaming accidental babies, elderly people with terrible pensions and of course, him. The person who lived alone. Fell asleep with the television on, drank far too much and kept a very loaded gun in his sock drawer.
Not that Severin did much. Every day was more or less the same. Do nothing all day. Pause doing nothing to shop. Drink. Drink. Drink. Watch TV. Drink. Go to work as the night shift guard. Come home. Drink. Watch more TV until sleep. Wake up. Iron leather trousers. Repeat.
It was a bubble, really. He was trapped in a bubble, a snow-globe, a routine he felt no desire to break from. No real point in being ambitious, no real joy in talking to other people. Other people were boring, for the most part. And he had no business with them.
His head pounding from the severe hang-over he was feeling, he stumbled blindly through the doorway into the bathroom. Accidentally knocking an un-used shaving kit from the sink, he gripped the sides tightly. He breathed fast and heavily, and groaned slightly. He looked up, peering at his reflection in the mirror. Light stubble dotted his face, and his shoulder-length hair hung around his face messily.
He yawned, and moved to the bath tub. He began running hot water, when there was a loud knocking on the door. Only one person it would be, particularly at this time.
Slowly, he reached the door, opening it to see a blonde woman his age poking around inside a handbag.
“Hello, Debbie.”
She looked up suddenly, dropping her handbag, spilling its contents. “Oh, hi, Sev.” She replied quickly, squatting to pick up her belongings. He squatted down as well to help her. “So, why did you knock on my door?”
“To say good morning.”
“Ah. I see. Well, good morning.”
Awkward pause. All he was doing was waiting for her to leave. “I’m meeting with Laura and William for coffee,” She said. “If you want, you could come along with me.” The last part, hopeful. She always had that little string of hope that he would agree to go somewhere with her. She’d be asking again sometime tomorrow.
“No, thank you, Debbie. Maybe some other time.”
She looked up at him for a moment, and they just exchanged glances. Then, her slightly sad smile. “Some other time, then.” And she turned, leaving. “Byee, bye, bye!”
Severin glanced at her leave, when a tall, thin man suddenly rounded the corner she had reached. He almost bumped into her, and she stepped out of his way as he strode down the hallway with a vicious expression. He didn’t even look at Severin as he passed, reaching a door at the end of the hall and knocking on it loudly. Severin took a step back, and closed the door. None of his concern.
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Post by Severin on Aug 23, 2007 13:42:59 GMT -5
Name: Fenton Straker Age: 34 Appearance: Overview: Intelligent, selfish, creepy and arrogant.
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Post by Severin on Sept 30, 2007 16:54:37 GMT -5
flashback triggered here: abclost.proboards40.com/index.cgi?board=rpgshelters&action=display&thread=1184541271&page=5#1191189105Severin, clutching heavy bags of shopping, walked slowly down the hallway to his apartment. Reaching the door, he set his bags down and dug into his pockets for a key. As he went to unlock the door, he noticed that the door was…just barely…ajar. Sighing inwardly, he pocketed his keys and pushed the door open, entering quickly and shutting the door behind him. He waited for a moment, and then walked further into the apartment. He reached the bathroom, walking in slowly. He turned to the mirror, and then to the shower curtain, which he tore across, revealing a woman standing there. “Hello.” He said simply and coldly. “Hi” managed the dark-haired, heavy-lidded woman with a weak smile. He instantly seized her by the arm, grabbing her tightly and pulling her out of the bath. “What did you steal?” “Nothing!” He gave a quick glance around the apartment. Nothing obvious was taken. “ Supposedly.” “I swear to God, I was just using your room as a hiding place!” “If you’re looking for a hiding place, I suggest behind a curtain. Or perhaps you can stand very still with a lamp shade over your head next to couch.” He replied. “For now, you’ll be hiding out in the hall.” There was a sudden, savage knocking on the door. He looked to her. “A friend of yours, perhaps?” Incoherent shouting. A flash of fear came over the woman’s face. “That would be my boyfriend.” She looked up at Severin, whispering hoarsely. “Please don’t tell him I’m here.” He studied her face for a moment. The knocking became more persistent. “Wait here.” He instructed, and went to the door. He opened it a crack, just enough to see the face of the thin man he’d seen the day before. “Can I help you?” “I’m looking for my girlfriend. She’s in here. Let me in.” replied the man directly. Severin shrugged. “There’s no one here but me.” “Oh, I’m sure.” The man placed his hand on the doorframe, and smirked. “You have a choice. You let me in the easy way, or I beat the living crap out of you like the idiot you probably are. Entirely your choice.” Severin paused for a moment. Then opened the door a little wider. The man smirked, but before he could move forward, Severin suddenly slammed the door shut on the man’s fingers with staggering force. The man on the other side howled in pain. “And now, I can give you the choice” began Severin. He didn’t speak with anger or bitterness, but with cold, disinterested efficiency. “I am currently breaking three of your fingers. You will likely not strike back because you are physically weaker than I, but you might try and sue me for bodily assault or something similar because you can’t handle pain and humiliation. But it is very much in your best interests to walk away now, go to a hospital, and forget about what has just happened.” Severin applied more pressure to the door that still trapped the man’s fingers. He screamed louder. “Do we understand?” “ Yes! Yes!” Severin released the man, whose fingers were now cut, bruised and twisted. “Goodbye.” He shut the door again, locking it from the inside. He looked to the woman. “And now, I’d like to know your name and his name.” The woman nodded gratefully. “Thanks for getting rid of him, he-…my name is Emily, and that was Fenton. Thank you so much-“ Severin cut her off. “If you hide in strange men’s rooms by picking the lock, all in an attempt to hide from your boyfriend, it might be time to re-examine the relationship.” He crossed the room to the table beside the sofa, switching it on and beginning to tune it. “You’re no longer my problem. You can go.” He could feel her staring from behind him. “You really, really just saved my arse. So, I don’t understand the charade of not caring.” “There’s a difference between not being entirely concerned and not letting a psychopath beat on a defenceless woman. I know I’m assuming that’s the nature of your relationship with him, but I think I’m probably correct.” Severin continued to tune the radio, not looking at her. “Well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like saving damsels in distress.” “I’ll try not to make a habit of it,” replied Sev, getting his radio to a station he liked. He stood, and turned around to face her. “For now, you’re no longer my concern. Goodbye, Emily.”
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Post by Severin on Sept 30, 2007 17:05:18 GMT -5
Name: Emily Parsons Age: 33 Appearance: Overview: Tactless, clever and perceptive. And no, she doesn't always dress like that.
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Gwen Havers
Help Translate Rousseau's Maps
Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
Posts: 2,010
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Post by Gwen Havers on Sept 30, 2007 20:12:07 GMT -5
Aw, you know you can't trust those Death Eater chicks...
And even though Sev's a bit of an insensitive jerk, I still adore him.
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Vivian Waters
Hunting Boar
plg%%Vivian Waters, Fox, Karli%%
Posts: 403
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Post by Vivian Waters on Sept 30, 2007 20:38:47 GMT -5
mmm she looks got without all that frizzy hair and Mascara. ;D
Love the flashback, Sev to the rescue!
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