#maisie.

DIGGING DEEPER.

TW : death, parental death, violence

chapter 1 ( i was born wild ) : in a makeshift medic tent in the one of the rural areas of the new california republic, no civilisation for miles and miles and miles, maisie o’halloran was born to what was left of an elite unit from the european commonwealth. while they can't remember much from their earlier years, their home had always been focused on people, rather than any specific place. their mother, niamh, had been assigned by the commonwealth she served to canvas the threat the united states of america might pose to the european commonwealth while it was in the midst of its own peace defence on its borders and elsewhere; at least, georgie, one of the younger ones in the squad that would become their family—and, eventually, the compounding of loss maisie would have to deal with in their short life—had told them. he'd kept mentioning ‘the united states of america’, and when questioned about it, because these states didn't seem united at all, he would always correct himself to meaning the ncr—”that's where you were born!”—the rot, and the ear. georgie had always fancied himself a storyteller, mentioned on many occasions that he'd wanted to become a historian before he was drafted. he's the reason maisie knows exactly what it sounds like when bullets penetrate flesh in rapid succession, at the young age of five years old.

chapter 2 ( lessons from scars ) : perhaps they never got formal education: maisie's grammar is spotty, they don't give a shit about where a comma might go, and maths are only important when calculating angles and external ballistics. what's a book in the wild when most of your life is focused on survival, when much of your energy is burnt being trained by the elite unit that is your family, when there's long periods of lack of civilisation from where you can even get a book from? no, there wasn't any formal education, but that doesn't mean maisie is uneducated. they learned quite quickly how to hold a handgun and to ground themself before shooting lest they injure themself from the recoil. they learned early how to read people, trust their gut, anticipate hostility in microexpressions and mere muscle twitches—“there's no honour, mercy, or dignity in death, maisie, because you'll be dead”. they learned which berries are edible, how to tie knots that'll last, how to rock faces efficiently and quickly, how to build a fire and construct a shelter, how to study and hunt with both guns and bow and arrow. and the most important lesson they've learned is that when death comes, it comes hard, fast, and violently, and when it arrives you fight with everything you have, you keep your head on straight, and push the grief out until you're in a place where pausing won't get you killed.

chapter 3 ( valleys of blood ) : every year of their life saw loss of some sort, and at ten years old, their elite family had been reduced to a party of two. at ten years old, maisie had already seen so many people die, people whom had taught them their own skills, shared their stories, their laughter, their hugs and their food and drink. heroes, all of them, all returned to the soil one after the other. but real horror came for them when they'd gone on patrol with their mum, and in the distance they'd heard a cry for help, further into the forest, in the twilight dark of dusk. their mum had urged them to stay back, keep their rifle at the ready, and flashlight in hand, niamh disappeared into the darkness, light fading into the distance. the silence was broken only by crickets, and if you'd asked maisie, they'd been waiting there for hours—in reality, it had barely been five minutes. maisie could see the whites of their mum's wide eyes as she came storming out of the dark, roaring at them to run—if the fear in her eyes wasn't enough to terrify maisie, it was the order: their mum hadn't told them to run since they were small, since they were competent enough with a rifle to hit a target from over a mile away. and for all their training, all the death and conflict they'd already experienced in their young life, nothing had prepared maisie for the ice of fear rooting them to the spot as a giant shadow surged from the shadows behind their mother's running form and slammed her down with a crack. maisie doesn't know if the impact killed her, or the mauling thereafter, but the next thing they knew, shots rang through the crisp air, high calibre rounds ripping through the flesh of the creature one after the other, the cracking sound of it loud enough to intermittently drown out the screaming of their mother before the enormous creature ran off. the last surviving member of the unit the european commonwealth, dante winters, would walk past them to kneel down next to their mother—she's fine, she's fine, she's fine. they could hear the wet rasp of their mum's voice say words that were hard to make out. they didn't realise dante had picked them up and started taking them away until their mother had disappeared in the darkness.

chapter 4 ( like a legion sworn ) : for years, maisie relived that night in nightmares, waking up screaming. from that moment, dante never let them out of his sight. their mission had changed. they were no longer a european commonwealth unit reporting back to home, they were two people just trying to survive and find meaning in the world, them parentless and him childless. it wasn't until they met santiago muñoz that maisie, with his guidance, could start giving every experience in their life a place. the nightmares became less, no longer waking up in terror, and while they never went away, maisie was given enough tools to give them a space. with santiago came uncle lindsay. initially, uncle lindsay came across to them as a stoic hardass who hadn't smiled a day in his life, but with the exchange of information, not just of the years that maisie had been alive to experience, but also those long before they were even born, this strange man had hugged them so tight maisie thought he might just break their ribs.

chapter 5 ( push it to the limit ) : maisie knows exactly what they can do, burnington is too small a place to hold down a kid that was born and raised in the wilds of north america, raised like a soldier, and loved and protected like something priceless by people intensely dangerous. their explosive energy, big mouth, and cocky attitude makes friends and enemies alike, and their confidence means it doesn't leave room enough to not slag off people they probably shouldn't be. rowdy, some would call them. energetic, if they want to be kind about it. fucking brat, perhaps a valid critique. maisie o’halloran is starting their twenties with all the skills and competences of a well-trained, veteran elite soldier and the brash, tempestuous bravado of a kid that's still long from being a proper adult. just these two things together, they're the cause for every one of lindsay o’halloran's grey hairs. maisie would argue that they keep him young.

EXTRAS.

( CONNECTIONS. )

santiago muñoz ( uncle / guardian )

lindsay o’halloran ( uncle / guardian )

dante winters ( uncle / guardian )

delia albright ( aunt )

falina “claymore” roux ( aunt)

( MEDIA. )

pinterest

soundtrack

( QUICK STATS. )

mbti : estp

enneagram : 7w8

moral alignment : chaotic neutral

temperament : choleric-sanguine

greek god : alke

zodiac : aquarius sun ; aries moon ; aries rising

( CHARACTER INSPIRATION. )

jacob frye ( assassin’s creed )

vi ( arcane )