#charming.event02

angie: is it just me, or are there more people with kuttes in town than usual?

estella’s wounding journey to the hospital / incld. mentions of blood, violence, murder, shootings, gore/bodily harm, death

A part of her wished she was in the islands of Belize, basking under the sun and sipping on a strong cocktail without a care in the world. Instead she was surrounded by death and destruction, screams and chaos, blood and violence. These types of occurrences should be like clockwork by now. A rule of thumb for those who chose to enter the wolf’s den, the outcome of their choice is that they’ll never be able to get out. It wasn’t about fight or flight anymore, it was about defending what’s rightfully theirs—their home and so when the shots rang out, it was as if a switch went off in her and nothing else mattered.

The only emotion she felt was rage. It fuelled her to do the unthinkable. She had a reputation to uphold yes, but seeing the casualties of her own made her realize that nothing else mattered. Besides, she was determined to make it quick, but sufferable. After all if it’s bloodshed that they wanted, then a bloodshed is what they’ll get. 

Open || Location : open

A frown tugged his lips down as Liam closed his eyes. When they opened, he was looking skywards, counting silently by thirteens until he could trust himself enough to open his mouth. “I cannot believe I only packed two jars of moonshine for this trip,” he drawled. In truth, he should have allotted two per day until they made it back home. He’d underestimated the stress of the trip - the false pretenses, the babysitting, and the weight of the eventual actions that would be taken. As it was, he’d already started on one jar. “I’m getting too old for this shit, I swear to god.” Finally, his gaze settled on the other. The advisor examined the other person carefully, trying to gauge at what was going to happen next. “Why do I get the feeling you’re gonna drive me to the drink?”

He was in and out of consciousness, first seeing an emt, then the inside of an ambulance. Next he saw inside the hospital, a doctor or two he recognized and then he was out again. Next it was inside an MRI machine, then out again. Each time he blacked out, he saw her. She kept telling him he needed to stay awake and he needed to do better and to live better for her. Every time he opened his eyes he was reminded she was gone again. 

He didn’t know how long it had been, but when he finally opened his eyes again he saw a different familiar face sitting in the chair next to his bed. He started to try and sit up, but he immediately fell back, dizzy and disoriented.

That’s when it happened. 

Gunfire rang out around her, her shock and anger clear as she whirled around to face the attackers. A little violence was a given in their town, but this was unimaginable. She didn’t think - she didn’t have to. Angie stepped forward, fully intending to swing at whoever she could get to first. If these fuckers really thought they would kill her and people she cared about, then she and the first masked coward she could get to would go together. Later she might ruminate on what that meant, that sudden affection for the town. She’d have to come to terms with the fact that she was protective over the place she’d left, small and unarmed as she was. Angie had always been an action-first kind of gal at heart, preferring the satisfaction of feeling someone under her fist. Given the circumstances, it wasn’t surprising that when it was fight or flight, she’d would fight no matter how bad an idea it was.Before she had a chance to die by stupidity, some brave soul threw her to the ground.

"Whiskey?” the advisor asked, offering the bottle he’d procured for the president’s approval. While he wouldn’t typically encourage indulging on a trip like this, there was enough tension that abstaining was unbearable. Besides, he wasn’t about to get shit-faced. In the privacy of a hotel room, he felt more able to speak freely, so as he helped himself to a coffee cup, he glanced over to the other man. “So. What do you make of them?” 

It was perhaps unfortunate, but he meant it to be as vague as it sounded. by them,  he meant the devils as much as he meant their members and the gangs.  Their prospect, the devils’ prospects would be something else to consider.  Rather than come out with all that, Liam waited. There would be more value in learning what was at the forefront of the president’s mind than there would be in a direct question at this point.

With: Kristinia Rayburn

@nikkirayburn​

The last thing Samantha needed today was to have even more ex trouble, with everything that was already going on with Rafael, but after talking to Nikki at the disco party and just generally seeing her today, it was hard for Sam to shake off the feeling of guilt. All this time, all these years, she had loved Raf, but tried to move on. The only person she thought she could have actually moved on with was Nikki because at one point, Sam was completely head over heels for this woman -- only for it all to turn to shit once she thought Nikki was cheating on her. Still, there was that underlying feeling of guilt that she hadn’t been completely honest with either herself or Nikki. "Uh, hey,” Sam said, a small smile on her lips as a hand rested shallowly in the back pocket of her jeans. “Just, um, just wanted to see how you were doing? You... you, uh-- You look great, Nikki,” Sam said, internally berating herself for betraying how her nerves were getting the better of her.

“Fancy runnin’ into you here, old man,” Liam teased as he approached Arthur. He had nothing against the unfazed advisor. Hell, the man was one of few friends Liam had outside of his mc. And knowing that Arthur was also an advisor, there was an added layer of understanding. Liam loved the club, and as he’d aged, had started to see some of the members (the younger ones in particular) less as siblings and as something more akin to children. Children who drove him crazy, needed constant minding, and on more than one occasion made him reach for a jar of moonshine from his private stash. “So. How are the kids?” It was a question that he often posed to the other, not as a means of getting information, but as a means of checking in. There was an implied, are they running you ragged like mine are running me? that hung in the air between them.