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Post by Lucky Volpecillia on Dec 30, 2009 22:19:12 GMT -5
((New Day)) Lucky folded her arms as she moved towards the docks and kicked up her feet, sitting down as she grappled in her jacket for a smoke. It was cold as sin during the winters and most of them liked to keep in doors best they could. But Lucky had her moments where she liked to give the dead some thought before the end of the year. Today was that day.
Her green eyes cast over the water as she dug a match out of her pocket and managed to get it to strike on one of the posts. She drew on her smoke and let out a sigh. That was how the Brooklyn Kids did it. How many had died during that battle right before winter hit? And how many were still recovering from that kind of insanity? She was in her way... frowning she looked into the water and wished River weren't so busy in the Bronx. How she got to be.. in love with him she'd never know. It just happened and yet, a part of her still felt guilty. Sneaks was gone, he wasn't ever coming back. River had lover her before she had even met Sneaks.
"Bye, lover.." she whispered as she tossed a rock into the water. Bye Sneaks, hope your life works out for you.
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Post by Smalls on Dec 31, 2009 15:33:47 GMT -5
Smalls slowly approached Lucky, noticing a familiar look on her face and unconsciously tensing her jaw at the thought of the bastard that broke her friend's heart. The wind was howling across the harbor and brought with it bits of ice that stung against exposed flesh, causing her great annoyance as she attempted to adjust her scarf over her cheeks. Finally reaching her pensive friend she dropped herself down beside her and gazed out at an incoming ship. Smalls and Lucky never pressed one another to share their thoughts, and though Smalls had a good idea of the many things likely to be silently tormenting her companion, she offered merely her presence, and would never ask for anything more in return.
It had been nearly two months since she had been in Brooklyn, having only hoped off a cargo train a few hours prior. She had left New York to escape the heavy weight that seemed to press down upon city after the carnage and bloodshed brought about by the incredibly impulsive actions they took to rescue their comrades. However, much to her annoyance, the oppressive feeling had followed her to Boston, which offered little in terms of solace but liquor and unfamiliar faces. It had simply become a habit of hers to leave when things became to much to bare, but always to return to the only place she ever considered home.
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Post by Lucky Volpecillia on Dec 31, 2009 22:11:47 GMT -5
Lucky took a long drag form her smoke before she turned to look at her oldest and most trusted friend. It wasn't as if they HAD to share their thoughts. They just knew, she had known that Smalls would take off to get away for a bit just as Lucky always managed to stick around. She'd spent her days at the little restaurant she'd began to think of as a second home and worked until she had no alternative but to drop like a lead weight in her bunk at night.
Without so much as a passing word she set her head against her friend's shoulder in lou of greeting as she closed her eyes. Many times she and Smalls had been in this situation saying little if nothing to convey how much they'd missed one another. Without Smalls it was like having her arm severed at the shoulder.
"Last Chance threw a shoe, won me a good chunk of change since I bet on Mayday Parade."
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Post by Smalls on Jan 7, 2010 22:49:09 GMT -5
Smalls grinned absently at Lucky's remark, her eyes still fixed on the ship in the distance. "You been seein' River then?" It wasn't a secret that the fiery Brooklyn girl had been spending more time in The Bronx, but Smalls knew the reason behind her visits and was glad for it. It was River's presence in Lucky's life that allowed Smalls to make up her mind about going to Boston, something she wouldn't have considered after the ordeal they had all gone through without knowing someone was looking out for her friend. Despite her constant jabs about the Bronx boy, she appreciated that he was there for Lucky after that bastard ditched out on her.
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Post by Lucky Volpecillia on Jan 8, 2010 0:11:41 GMT -5
Lucky nodded to her friend, not saying much else as she watched the ship on the harbor. This was Smalls, her best friend and her sister. If she was honest with anyone, it was Smalls. "Makes me feel different than Sneaks ever did. Like, I'm tough but at the same time he's okay with being the tough one for a few minutes.. Sneaks? I was tough all the time. I didn't want him to see the weak side of me. Shame huh?"
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Post by decker on Feb 4, 2010 22:43:43 GMT -5
[[New Day]]
Decker muttered a curse under his breath and crumpled the envelope in his hand. He should just get rid of the damn thing, he thought hotly. Toss it into the water and wait for it to sink. Wait for the ink to run and he'd never have to worry about her or her life again. Isn't that what he wanted? He knew exactly what he wanted for himself: to not have to worry about anyone else. He didn't have to care about her life. So why not? Why not tear it up while it was still in the envelope and throw the scraps into the water?
Decker leaned heavily against the dockpost and groaned. Stupid damned thing had to come. Stupid damned him had to stop by just to see. Stupid damned him had to see his name on the front of the thing. Stupid damned him had to be curious. Get over it, he thought, it's a letter. And judging from how thick the envelope feels, a long one at that. Why bother?
But then again, it was jut a stupid letter. Why not read it and see what she has to say, then throw it over the dock?
Decisions...decisions...
Finally, Decker scoffed. "The hell with it..." he muttered, and tore open the envelope. The first thing he saw were three twenty-dollar bills.
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Post by Birdie Schaffer on Feb 5, 2010 21:58:16 GMT -5
"You should have at least opened it," Birdie responded from her perch up on the crates. She'd been watching him for awhile now, her dark eyes never leaving his frame. She'd been drinking a lot lately to stave off the pain but she was sober now and for the first time in awhile it didn't hurt so much.
She took a drag from her smoke as she folded her legs, blond hair caught in the wind as she turned her eyes out over the harbor. Brooklyn never could keep any of them away for long. She always came back even if it was with her tail between her legs.
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Post by Scar Bourke on Mar 5, 2010 19:08:23 GMT -5
*NEW DAY* Scar rolled up his sleeves before he hefted one crate up and moved it across the dock to where it belonged. Although the weather was cool he was sweating from the intense physical labor he was putting his body through. He didn't mind it though, he needed to get some of his frustration out and this was the best way to do it. Most of these crates required two men to haul them but Scar could care less, his temper was flaring and if he didn't exert some of it on these crates he was going to exert it on an unsuspecting persons face. Not that he would have minded that either but he didn't need to bring attention to himself by beating someone to death. He thought they'd all left the city, left him for dead and he was half dead by the time he dragged himself out of the river. If Fighter hadn't gone looking for him when he hadn't come home he probably would be dead. Not that that affected what he thought of her these days. She was just like them, deserting him when he was in need of someone. He'd never admit, not even to himself, that perhaps she had enough of him beating on her. She'd deserved everything she'd gotten, taunting him like she had. He shook those thoughts away focusing back on what he'd recently discovered. They were all back in town, the rat bastards, even his sister. He didn't know why she'd never looked for him, never bothered to check and see if he was actually dead after that night but she hadn't and he couldn't forgive her for it. He knew Mary knew he was alive, he didn't know if she'd told anyone but it wasn't her job. If they were as loyal as they claimed to be they should have come looking and he'd never forgive them for it. Grunting he lifted another crate and practically threw it across the dock in his anger. |
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Post by Eddi Kiersted on Mar 6, 2010 18:08:48 GMT -5
Edvard hefted a smaller crate up onto his shoulder and carried it down the dock to add it to a pile of larger ones--pausing at the sight before him. Up ahead he saw Scar Bourke, carrying a larger crate and practically tossing it down onto the dock. Judging by the way he was handling those crate, he was definitely not happy. And, having worked with the short-tempered man before, Eddi knew he should probably stay out of the man's way but Scar was standing between him and his destination...
Searching the dock ahead for anyway to go around Scar and finding none, Eddi grimaced before heading forwards, preparing himself for the coming encounter--and probably a black eye or broken nose...
"If you damage the merchandise Scar, we won't get paid..." He said gruffly, brushing past Scar and setting the crate down on top of a larger one.
(If you started this for someone else let me know and i'll delete this.)
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Post by Scar Bourke on Mar 6, 2010 18:42:11 GMT -5
Scar watched Eddie move by him and scowled at the man when he spoke. He hadn't worked with him long enough to call him by anything other than kid although he didn't know the guys age. Crossing his arms across his chest he raised an eyebrow, "Never had any complaints from the boss's about my work, you trying to say I'm doing it wrong?"
His tone was nothing short of menacing but that was the way he was. Most of the others knew better than to bother trying to talk to him and the reason he probably hadn't heard anything about his work from the bosses was because they were scared of him and he got a lot done when he worked.
(Nope you're fine.)
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Post by Eddi Kiersted on Mar 8, 2010 12:58:50 GMT -5
"Never had any complaints from the boss's about my work, you trying to say I'm doing it wrong?"
Eddi shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, "Nej..." He shoved his hands in his pockets before adding, "You just keep doing what you're doing, min ven... Wouldn't dare tell you differently."
Eddi combed back the blond strands hanging in his face with his right hand. As he made his way over to the pile of larger crates to be moved, he added under his breath, "De naturligvis ikke klage til dit ansigt. De er bange for at få et blåt øje..." He picked up a medium sized crate and carried across the dock to add to the other pile, avoiding eye contact with the older, more intimidating man.
Even though Eddi was seen as being a 'pretty-boy', he wasn't one to shy away from a fight--in fact he was partial to the way it help relieve stress or frustration--but he was no fool. He knew better than to pick a fight with Scar Bourke--unless you wanted to add a few bruises, a bloody lip, or a broken nose to your features. And, it wasn't that you had no chance to win a fight--if you were a strong fighter--against Scar, you just never came out of it unscathed. The man had a lot of rage and frustration built up--almost always.
Danish Lesson:
Nej=no
De naturligvis ikke klage til dit ansigt. De er bange for at få et blåt øje.=Of course they do not complain to your face. They are afraid of getting a black eye.
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Post by Scar Bourke on Mar 8, 2010 19:03:51 GMT -5
Scar stared at Eddi as he spoke, a scowl firmly in place on his face as he watched him walk off. When Eddi started mumbling in another language his eyebrow raised. "Got something to say, kid, you can say it English."
His eyes narrowed a bit and he uncrossed his arms, his hands slowly clenching into fists at his side. One thing Scar couldn't stand was someone who wanted to say something but didn't have the cohunes to say it to his face. Then again there were a lot of things that Scar couldn't stand and right now just about anything would get under his skin. He was after all itching for a fight right now.
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Post by celine on Mar 17, 2010 19:45:01 GMT -5
There was the click of heals on the docks after the exchange, a lithe woman with a particular perfume stood behind Scar her blue eyes scaling up his back and a smirk crossed her face. To say that she was a woman of many moods was to speak the truth. She folded her arms and managed a smirk.
"Would you prefer everyone speak english?" the heavily accented voice floated through the air as the woman's smirk widened. New York had not been her home as much as Paris had been but she had a prerogative to survive and she did just that. But, there were shadows in her past that she loved to revisit. She was angry at herself that it took her this long to manage.
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Post by Scar Bourke on Mar 17, 2010 20:33:42 GMT -5
Scar turned slowly, inhaling the familiar scent of Celine's perfume. "If they're talking about me." A slow smile crossed his features as his eyes scanned the body of the woman he'd enjoyed for a time awhile back. "It's been a long time Celine."
He took a step toward her before roughly pulling her against him and lowering his head to her neck, inhaling deeply. One of the things he'd loved about her was the way she smelled and he was pleasantly surprised to find she still used the same perfume. "What are you doing back?"
Although he wasn't particularly surprised considering who else was in town, but for some reason he couldn't be as angry with her as he was with the rest. She had after all left on her own and not just abandoned him with the rest of the spineless bastards.
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Post by celine on Mar 17, 2010 20:42:25 GMT -5
She let out a chuckle when he dragged her against him and she settled comfortably, her hand sliding into his hair without hesitation. She was still Celine, and he was still Aidan. For her, well nothing else mattered. The world could implode as long as they were alive things would work out eventually.
"Mmm, I said I would come back," she was still smiling, he felt the same it was familiar and that darkness in him had always been so attractive she wanted to drown in it. Though she always had.
The accent was the same as it had always been, very laughing and very French. For a woman that had killed a few men for their money she had a bright smile. "And I missed you.. "
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