𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

“I have too many competing voices around here to have a sole voice of authority over my life,” Colt said with a vague gesture to all his broken critters. The raccoon picked that moment to begin to climb onto Colt, who was well used to being a playground for the three legged juvenile. Colt listened to his restoration story and nodded. He hated when that shit happened. “What size do you need? I might have one hanging around my dad’s place.” Wayne had been the area’s plumber for decades until about six months ago when he lost the function of his legs. “You know if you need any help with that, I have a very ornery expert who would take no greater joy in bossing us around.”

Wayne likely would be very kind to Ira - not even say a single comment about any shoddy prior work. Colt didn’t get the luxury. The plumbing work would also give Wayne some time away from the isolation that was happening between the two of them. There but not there. Silence. “I think your work is harder, truthfully. Though, some times it can be quite rewarding.” Colt never really got past it. With exotics he was mostly removed from the common man. With horses, he was plunged back into the world of trainers, rich owners, and more. He saw the other side of it. “It’ll be good to get Vann out here, he can make a custom shoe for the horse to provide a bit more comfort. But, it’s neither here or there.” Colt chuckled, “Pine box. Face down. Then I don’t have to worry about him rolling over in the grave the next time I disappoint him. Pre rolled. Like grocery store sushi.”

-

      “ ALREADY FIXED IT. last weekend. pulled the whole system apart and installed the new pipes. figured if the u-bend was dented the rest of it was going to go too. and you know ... at some point i need to sell the place. can’t place. i can’t put a nice price tag on it if i know there’s potential damage in the future. not on my conscience with how the rest of the house work might be perceived. ” reputation on the line ---it was all that kept ira from making it look nice but otherwise not being functional before he sold it off. TRUTH WAS, HE DIDN’T REALLY CARE WHO INHERITED IT AFTER. or what they did with it. but he didn’t want them thinking he’d lazed the work so hard the rest of the house would fall apart around them ... and blame ira for the shitty work. he was too much of a work horse for that.

      “ yeah? maybe. it’s peaceful. sometimes i like to imagine the ghosts of the people i’m working on are watching over my shoulder and telling me what they’d want, versus the family. but i don’t belive in ghosts. ” he just preferred their company. much like he could see how colt simply got along better with his animals, ira preferred the company of the dead. it was easier for him to feel at ease ... no judgment ( not that he cared ), no disappointment. they were excellent listeners if he ever decided to talk ... and they sat still. and while he mused the thoughts of how he much preferred the company of the recently deceased he watched the three-legged raccoon climb all over his friend as if he was unhindered by whatever in life had taken a limb from him. it cracked a small smile across his face.

      and he snorted at the comment about disappointment, head shaking. “ pretty sure i’m still disappointing my old man. if i put an ear out i can hear him groaning from the afterlife about how much of a disappointment i am. among other choice words that are rather offensive to ... everyone. ” so he shrugged, then moved on. “ so i was breezing through one of those dating apps the other night. you know ... just for the shits and giggles of it. and i saw something interesting. snapped a screenshot, if you were interested ... and i think you will be. ”

─── starter for @warmshadcw​

SUGAR HILL FARMS ESTATE, SUGAR HILL LAKE — In some ways Ricardo and Enola Socarras were unofficial ambassadors of Heartsdale. As the most prominent family in the most affluent neighborhood of the small town, often credited for putting the town on the map by way of the fame of their stable, they made themselves known to every newcomer at some point. Usually a kind greeting in passing in town, or a gift basket of some sort sent to their door. Though, sometimes, Ricardo made his way into local businesses and settled into the establishment just enough to get to know someone and make a connection. That was how it had happened with Ira Evans. Lucia’s father had met, introduced, and perhaps shared a drink with the mortician— enough to learn that Ira had some handyman capabilities. The night before, the heir was informed by way of text that a man named Ira Evans would be coming by to take a look at the few things she’d complained to her father about that needed some tending. By morning, Lucia had forgotten all about it, and when the knock sounded on her front door she answered with a feline smirk with the assumption of someone else being on the other side of the threshold. “Some of us do have to wor—” Lucia’s words cut off abruptly, though rather than shy or turn pink, the woman sans any clothing chuckled softly. “Oh, well…” A careless shrug of a single slender shoulder and Lucia turned to grab something to slip on, not bothering to attempt to cover anything up in the process. “I guess I should put something on, huh? You must be Ira…”

-

      HE’D MADE IT plainly clear that he wasn’t a contractor, not a handyman, nothing that specifically came to people’s homes to tune up broken objects of varying degrees ... but when the right price was offered he was loathe to disagree or turn his nose up to it. he’d always been a bit shrewd with spending; money incoming from renting his home back in vermont as an air bnb was shoved immediately into his savings and never touched, while he sat down at least twice a week to budget out what he needed to spend and where. always careful, always sure to have just so much in his accounts. he wasn’t poor, or struggling, by any sense of the word ... he was just wise with his change. IT WAS HOW HE PREFERRED IT. so when this offer came he was sure to make it clear: one time, just to get done what needed doing, but he wasn’t a handyman. he was a mortician, and that was his priority.

      it was how he’d driven from suffix mills up to an area of town he’d seen maybe once, passing through. quiet thoughts, observations about the people that lived in this area remained at the back of his head and while he pulled his toolbox from the bed of his truck he allowed himself to gaze a bit longer than intended at a bed of flowers. he’d need to plant some. something nice, to color the front of his own yard. he glanced at his phone, mused at a nonsense text as he made way to the front door, and slipped the device into the back pocket of his work pants. HE HAD NOT EXPECTED WHAT HE SAW WHEN THE DOOR OPENED. though his expression remained truly neutral, and while he noticed he certainly kept his eyes on the young woman’s. they didn’t even dart down, or beyond her, or anywhere but her own hues.

      one blink, then another. when he spoke he cleared his throat first, though his voice was still a soft rasp, “ your father asked me to stop by and fix some broken things? ” at least he assumed it was her father. you know what they say about assumptions, ira. he was certain that at least one or two adult films began this way, though he wasn’t quite ready to bill for THAT. he wasn’t sure ricardo socarras could cover that cost, really ( he’d like to imagine that he was an expensive bitch, honestly ). it was why his tinder profile lay barren, void of response of any DM’s sent to him. only there for the memes, he told his closest friend back in vermont. “ so uh, if you could direct me to whatever’s at the top of the list. ”

Men in her life had never really been gentle, docile. She’d none men to be cold, sometimes passionate, but often distant. Effy didn’t know Ira well, or at all really besides a small chat here and there. Still, the petite brunette found him intriguing due to his gentle demeanor. Though, she wouldn’t hold him to her assumption about him. She knew better than to assume anything about anyone at this point in her life. A giggle passed through her lips at his question.

“I didn’t sleep much.” Something quite normal for her as of late. Much plagued her mind which didn’t allow for her to rest easily. Her mind circled around the same daunting thoughts. Effy found it better to get up and do something rather than lay in bed frustrated. “I think I’ve been up since 5.” That was after going to bed at 1. Clad in a matching sweatshirt and pant set of a light purple shade and furry slides on her feet, she stepped into his house. Her eyes couldn’t help but examine every nook and cranny hopefully to learn a bit about him.

“I didn’t mean to intrude, really.” She explained softly, turning back to him with the plate still presented in her hands. “6 is early. What is it you do again?” Suddenly she wondered if he’d ever mentioned it.

-

      “ IT’S NOT AN intrusion. not if i invited you in. ” he could have easily shut the door on her, told her no, thank you for the sweets and called it a day. or a morning, perhaps. but he hadn’t - and his eyes shifted to the tray of rolls in her grasp as he stopped by the kitchen island, gesturing for her to set them down if she wanted. “ want coffee? tea? orange juice? ” it served as a reminder of his own cup of coffee, almost room temperature by now, and he unceremoniously deposited the thick mug into the microwave and punched 20 seconds on the clock before nuking it to warmth again. nyx wriggled, ever so slightly, against his shoulder and settled. her large yellow eyes never left the house guest.

      “ ah, mortician. work with a home in atlanta. ” it was almost always a point of interest or contention, when mentioned. people had preconceived notions about the line of work ---made assumptions ( some far too distasteful for ira to linger on ) or believed that only someone odd could handle that work. and perhaps he was odd, maybe he hid it well. it mattered little ... he was good at what he did, and he enjoyed it. “ or, if you prefer a more polite term ... restorative artist. i can do makeup better than most women i’ve met. ” he snorted, slightly, at the comment ... even if there was a measure of truth to it.

      the soft chime of the microwave had him retrieving his coffee. a sip to inspect ---perfect, before he continued, “ and you? what has you awake at five? ”

starter for @warmshadcw​

where: colt’s house

The goose was a problem. After Ira had managed to get past the guard goose, and somehow earn its respect, it left Colt with a wide jaw. “You know, you can have him. Since he likes you. Satan’s bird.” There was no memory of reason as to how and why the goose showed up. It clearly stayed because it had developed a taste for blood. He considered cooking it almost every day. Now the goose was honking contently while it waltzed around Ira. Colt cast it a weary look. He’d been attacked already for the day and once was enough. “I’m off the sauce, but I did put some veggies on the grill. I’ll probably put burgers on later.” Colt offered Ira a lawn chair and moved to sit down. Ira had become a friend in the last few months since he’d been back. They talked carpentry, fixing up shit, and and met in the hardware store. Colt was ironically buying a shovel and made a joke it was to bury a goose. Which started the whole thing. “How was your day? I had to pack a particularly nasty hoof abscess while the trainer hovered over me, so hopefully better. You ever put someone like they’re picking their nose?” It was a morbid question, but he had to know. “When my dad dies, I’m going to ask you to make it look like he was scratching his ass.” Colt chuckled. The old man would find that funny too.

-

      “ I DON’T THINK he’d get along with nyxie. and what she says goes. ” brows rose at the last statement, a punctuation to how serious the situation at hand was. nyx was the queen of his house, ira a simple and humble steward who served at her beck and call ---it worked, really. she showered him with endless affection and purred into his hair, ear, and neck at night. comfort, all at the low cost of gourmet cat food and kitty litter. his fingers wrapped around the bottle of beer, soft condensation already forming above his fingers and trickling between, but he paid it no mind. at the proffered seat he lounged, lowering himself into it as if it were some effort, and his sigh as he relaxed back was content.

      “ mine? fine. not worth mentioning anything, honestly. finally fixed the pipes in the guest bathroom. the u-bend was dented, somehow. and couldn’t get the pipe. backorder, do you believe that? ” nonsense conversation, but he found comfort in it ---some semblance of normalcy in a place where he still felt OUTSIDE. in no small part to his otherwise asocial nature, he was sure. “ hoof abscess is not an image i ever though i wanted to have. but i suppose it’s in the same vein as restoring some of the people i do. just ... yours is alive. ” he swallowed a mouthful of beer, and chuckled when he could breathe again. “ no, not picking their nose. most people want their loved ones in the standard pose ---you know, hands on their stomach, wedding ring displayed. all that. yeah? you think wayne would be good with that? could wire-rig him, for sure. have to go big on the casket though, to fit the bent arm. how much gold you want him to dig for up there? ”

who : @warmshadcw​

where : ira’s front door

Being back in this town in which she fled years ago felt surreal. Sure, she’d been back for holidays and to visit, but here she was settling into a rental home unsure of how long she’d be back. If she let her mind linger on all of it, her mother, their relationship, her sister, her ex, it all became too much. The distance from her parents by not moving home with them felt necessary, but she also felt lonely in this big old house. It was no wonder why she was standing on her neighbors porch with a warm plate of freshly made cinnamon rolls. Effy not only welcomed this distraction, but dove into it head first. The man who resided next door fixed the flicker light bulb on her porch. An off handed comment about it bothering her as they stood in their respective driveways lead to a kind gesture. So, here she was for the second time with a plate of homemade goods.

As the door open, Effy smiled sweetly, catching Ira’s eye as she held out the plate. “Hi, me again.” She giggled somewhat shyly, not that she was shy. It was only now that she saw him that she realized it was early. What was she doing on his porch? “I made some cinnamon rolls and I thought maybe you’d like some. I didn’t wake you did I?”

-

      BEING SOCIAL HAD never been ira’s strong suit. call it leftover damage from a childhood he really didn’t recognize as warped ( until freshman year of college when a dormmate had to break the news to him ), or perhaps it would have always been in his nature to keep to himself. the truth of it was simple: ira was lonely ... but ira preferred to be alone. a conundrum, and a cruel one at that. but he wasn’t so obtuse as to keep life as a hermit ---three years in one place was more than enough for him to form connections, however loose they were. and a polite neighbor was a nice connection to have ---specifically when she decided to drop by with sweets.

      he smelled them before he opened the door: fresh and tantalizing, enough to cause his mouth to water just a bit before the door swung open entirely. nyx, tucked beneath his arm like a furry football with wide eyes, gazed at the guest a bit like an accusation ( you take nyx time from father? how dare. is sacred! ). and despite the fact that it was early, he hadn’t been asleep. schedules did not permit time to sleep in ---a fact he loathed.

      “ did you wake up at the crack of dawn to make cinnamon rolls? ” not that he could judge. if a burglar came by they’d likely find him leaning against the edge of the island counter at 4:22 AM with a spoonful of buttercream in his mouth and his eyes glued to some inane reddit thread concerning the shitty live action version that netflix had the audacity to adapt of his favorite anime. “ no, no. you didn’t wake me up. despite it being my day off, i’ve been up since six. ” unshowered, sure, but at least he’d thrown a shirt on. “ come in. ”

A STUDY IN IRA EVANS ------CHARACTER PARALLELS

                  tw: abuse