l a w l e s s

Location: The Pint. Time: 10:45 PM. Status: Open.

Normally, Cassia would stick to where she knew she belonged: O'Shea territory. There was less chance of trouble that way. However, tonight she had ventured into neutral turf. The brunette had never been one to avoid a little danger but tonight she decided to keep a low profile, making the conscious decision not to draw attention to herself. She was nursing a hangover from the previous night and figured there was only one cure to remedy this. Hair of the dog, isn’t that the expression? The Pint seemed like the perfect place to situate herself for the night. Not too crowded, but not too dull either. The ideal balance for the brunette.

Her lithe form was sliding onto a vacant stool at the bar, dark tresses cascading across her shoulders; acting as a partial barrier, shielding her features. Waving a delicate hand toward the bartender, she ordered a gin and tonic, steering clear of her chosen poison from the night before. Slender digits were wrapping around the glass that had been placed in front of her, emeralds casting a glance toward the patron next to her. “You look as rough as I feel,” she quipped, taking a long sip of her drink, welcoming the sharp taste that lined the back of her throat.

Settled into a seat River was just ending a day of attempting to reign in some more information on top of her usual work duties. Sometimes she felt like she may in fact pile too much on, but regardless she rather enjoyed the craze. “Do I?” she asked, not looking up at first and then finding the face to the voice. Familiar in the sense she’d spotted the brunette out and about prior. Probably when River had trespassed into territory not her own. “Guess I’m a little tired today. Nothing I can’t get through.”

“Don’t do that!” River was awestruck a moment while she grabbed her sister’s arm. She got retaliation against someone who did something lesser, but  not that degree. “We don’t need bad press do we? What does dad always say?”  She remained calm otherwise, tone lowering while she tried.

Crossing a street in Chicago should be an easy task correct? However, Raven Ward-Vasile seemed to have trouble doing such a simple thing. The woman had her arms crossed and was staring at the ground with a thinking face. What was she going to do about the second act? Were they going to have to recast? Or worse, rewrite the whole ending? Did they even have enough time to finish? Did she get more peanut butter already? Was the next payment on her laptop this week or next? The questions went on and on so when the people around her saw the ‘walk’ symbol go on, Raven hadn’t even noticed until it had a 10 second countdown and a voice/shoulder bump snapped her out of her trance and made her look up.

“Think we missed our chance,” River quipped to the woman’s left. A gentle nudge and she regarded Raven calmly. The countdown ticked further until the traffic was buzzing by once more. “Penny for your thoughts?” It felt like most of her family had too much swirling about in their heads as of late she thought.

“The deadlines not until next spring, s-so I’m not too worried. I just don’t like the, er, y’know, the feeling…” Harry was excited to hear that the institiute was getting some new art, with everything that had happened, it was nice to know it was getting rejuvenated again. He spent a lot of time there, a particular bench in the corner of one of the less popular exhibits being his usual spot to write. “Isn’t it just?” He scoffed. All he heard at the Falcon office was ‘staying current’. Harry had always had a love for traditional, old, rustic things. Even his music taste contained nothing from the last decade. “I-I always thought people came to the ins-titue for the old stuff, it’s like history in a picture…” Harry mused, tailing off towards the end of the sentence for fear his sister might think he was talking nonsense. 

“Next spring?” A look of surprise colored her expression. Leave it to Harry to be concerned already. She did appreciate the ambition but not that he was wearing himself so thin. “They do but sometimes we need a little spice for the youth to be interested,” River explained. She tore off a corner of her cookie to eat, wondering herself if they were doing a adequate enough job in that regard. Possibly. The art institute was a large space to handle for one individual. The care of it she took seriously. “If you’re up for a break later I was going to look at some of the Christmas lights that are already up.”

early morning text-

River: Wakey wakey eggs and bakeyRiver: Who came up with that anyway? It’s silly. Anyway, you wanna grab breakfast? I’m feeling a omelette.

For a controversy or scandal they have been able to keep mostly under wraps -

“I went to a fancy outing with photographers and the like and I ended up getting my dress caught up on my underwear. Apparently I was flashing my butt to plenty of people. The photos were thankfully never released and they remained mute. One perk of being part of most media outlets.”

Talk about someone/something you like, but pretend to dislike -

“Hm let’s see. I like dance. It’s another expression of art in my eyes but I have two left feet and I say I don’t like it because it seems like such a...I don’t know. Frilly....dramatic....thing to like. I’m meaning more in the lines of ballet.”

Richie parks his car in the middle of an empty lot, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself. The nightmares come without warning and Richie deals with it the only way he knows how: by letting it course through him until he can stuff it back in the little space in his mind reserved for denial. It’s stupid, being out late at night, even if the territory is marked neutral, but he drives without really thinking about it and where he ends up, he doesn’t really have a care about. Richie steps out of his vehicle,  hopping up on his hood, the feel of the metal on his back cooling his nerves. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, staring at the stars, but the young O’Shea finds his heartbeat steadying, a comfortable thump against his chest.

It takes a moment to register the sound of footsteps approaching, but he whirls to face the figure, adrenaline shooting through his body. His hand reaches for the holster he no longer has, body still familiar with what his brother taught him. “What do you want,” he regards the figure, arms crossed to keep his hands from shaking, the urge to defend himself thrumming through his veins. “Can’t a man spend some quality time with his car without anyone bothering him?”

A simple stroll had turned into the nights ritual of displaying her art on the walls that she claimed as canvases. On her way back she went to cut across a lot when she was suddenly spied. A sudden halt of black boots on the pavement and she caught the face of the male even in the dim lighting. “I stumbled on you,” River explained calmly. She had the means of defense if needed. Pepperspray, fists....she didn’t deem him a threat right now. “Sorry.”

LOCATION: Local church

WITH: Anyone

It had been a tiring yet tense couple of days for Amari, plots had been schemed and were underway and before she knew it, she was down there on the docks helping to sabotage every last inch of the Fausts and their empire on the shore. But something didn’t sit right with Amari after she had discovered civilians had been caught in the crossfire because… Well, she wasn’t entirely cold-hearted and cut off from reality. It was the reason why she had found herself sitting alone in a nearby church, trying to come to terms with what had happened. “Can you shut the fuck up?” she suddenly spun around, eyeing the person talking loudly on their phone at the back. “I’m trying to like, find my zen or whatever it is you do here.” 

River was never particularly religious. She believed in a higher power but she felt it didn’t spare her or her family  any pain or suffering. Why should she acknowledge it. Today she had sat in a pew looking to see if she could feel some touch of divine power or whatever it was people felt. A sharp snap and she turned her head to eye the subject before hazel hues found the one who did say it. “Some people have zero class,” River commented, voice soft as to not add to the noise.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. He told me you were in the past!” It was a frenzied response fueled by drinks and a spitfire attitude. She threw her arms up as she explained, but River wasn’t aware if the phrase made sense to the woman or not. The gentleman in question didn’t want to partake anyway.

@paleshxlter