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Post by Cole Dannials on May 3, 2016 3:39:54 GMT
 when i close my eyes reality overcomes me; i'm living a lie Surviving in such a small-scale town was so different to what Cole had grown up in and grew accustomed to, he had to adjust, and it definitely hadn't been an easy task to take on; working in a field where he saw people at their worst was hard enough, working in a field where he saw people who he would quite often bump into when out indulging in alcoholic beverages, or buying a few odds and ends, or just trying to escape from the four walls of his apartment was even harder. At least back home he would find the chances of running into one of his ex-patients a difficult feat, here it seemed a lot more common and it happened more often than not. Sometimes they would acknowledge him, others they wouldn't, other times they would want to go for a the kill with a full blown catch up and let him know how they're doing, and once in a while he would be asked 'Since I had my procedure, I've been getting these pains', or 'do you mind just looking at this quick?', which admittedly, got tiresome. Work life and personal life needed to be kept separate, something he found almost unmanageable in this small town, which is why the bayou was a favourite escape from reality for him; he found that during the day it was the area where he'd bump into people far and few in between when he went on his little strolls. Today was one of those days he craved having time away, he just needed to remember that there was time for him to find somewhere he could breathe in some fresh air without someone from the town square stopping him and asking him a plethora of questions about their slight ailments that they had, and without the headache of bumping into his sister. This was the last place he would anticipate she would ever appear in front of him, especially with all the dirt, gunk and the uneven earth-like, yet mundane and repetitious stoned paths. With all of his efforts to avoid his sibling, it had been a while since he had seen her, but even then, the last time he had the ill fate of laying eyes on her, she looked as though she should have been in an office berating one of the employees lower than her in 'ranks' of business, or society for getting her coffee order wrong. Obviously he didn't hold a high opinion his sister much, but for family sake, he kept it rather mellifluous with her, even if it was obviously simulated and that he couldn't stand her. If evil was a personified, it was her. In actual fact, as far as Cole was aware, the same went for anyone in his sister or mother's social circles. Approaching the path along the water bank, he took in a deep breath of the crisp fresh air, the wavelet in the light breeze and lapping back up onto the shore line making a small yet distinct noise. Not as ferocious as the ocean, but loud enough to be heard if you were listening carefully. Oddly enough, he had never noticed it before, but it was also more than fair to note that he didn't take much in when he was just having a relaxed stroll; after all, a stroll isn't for noticing detail, right? It's for actually being able to let go of all worries, negative thoughts, fears and just be one with nature, and at the same time, to an extent, getting a slight cardio work out, and actually be healthy for a change. Today things were a little different for Cole, he would usually be unable to notice all the sounds around him; when he was on a stroll he would ensure he had his earphones firmly plugged in, blasting music at unholy levels, usually to the point he would find himself wondering whether these levels were going to be the cause of hearing impairment by the age of 40. That said, however, he wasn't really listening to the music, it was more noise filler. It was odd, he never really did go anywhere without his earphones, but today he had made the fatal mistake of leaving the headphones at home. Well, truth be told, he wasn't sure where they were, he couldn't even remember the last time he had hold of them or where he put them. The feeling of being in total silence with the simple sounds of nature around him was oddly satisfying, yet slightly unsettling. These were noises he wasn't really all that used to, the sounds of birds singing away, squirrels scampering in the leaves and up the trees and the sound of the occasional child laughing while playing with their siblings on a family walk; something he was quite envious of. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to live a different life, to be able to do what he wanted without the worry of his family's reputation following him, or of his family following him, what about if he came from a standard working class family? That wouldn't be so bad; at least that way they would be able to appreciate him a bit more, he figured. A few birds chirping away in the distance killed Cole's current train of thoughts, bringing him back into the reality he was facing, the long winding path around the water, bringing him back to the realisation that there was no point in fantasising about other realities, this was the one he was living in and this is the one he was stuck in, unless, of course, he attempted to disappear from the grid all together, but if that was the case, he knew his family would find a way to track him down some how; it was almost as if his mother had them caught up in her evil claws with spies all around, waiting to pounce and keep tabs on him. Paranoid, maybe, but with how his family was worried about reputation and with their 'standing in society', he had every right to be. It wouldn't even surprise him if he found out that they had dealings with the darker kinds of people in the world to eliminate threats and enemies, usually people who would stand in their way of progressing and making more money. It was true, money really did make their world go round. Eventually he found a spot he could perch himself, a tree stump that seemed to be carved at after it was cut down for whatever reason, carved into the shape of a small bench. Maybe this was the town leader's idea of making the environment more compatible with human habitation all while using environmentally friendly materials. From an aesthetic point of view, the bench looked beautiful, carved to perfection, but Cole knew it was only a matter of time before the wood wore down from the many varying factors in the world, mainly the wind and the rain he would imagine, but then what else was there he wasn't thinking about? Could be hundreds of things, animals and wildlife would probably have some sort of impact on it, too. Relaxing back into the wood, he closed his eyes as he lit a cigarette and inhaled quite deeply, followed by an exhale, releasing the lightly blue tinted grey smoke from his lungs, then his shoulders finally relaxing down, forcing out some of the tension it had been holding in, allowing for a more comfortable sitting position. TAG: anyone WORDS: 1261 NOTES: got a little carried away |
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Post by Clea Givens on May 4, 2016 17:59:00 GMT
There were those in Cloistere with tiny imaginations. Seeing her strolling in the woods that wound through the bayou they’d likely laugh. Clea Givens in a space this quiet, being quiet herself? Nope. Impossible. A ‘silent Clea’ was an oxymoron to most. It could have upset she supposed and might’ve if she wasn’t so blithe about things, but in the end it wasn’t the worst opinion for those to have. They’d welcomed her to Cloistere with open arms in the most amazing way and for that she could never be grateful enough. When she wanted company the town was full of it and for those rare moments when she needed silence, when she had to be alone in order for the hamster wheel of her brain to slow down enough to prevent her mind from simply exploding, the bayou was there. Later on the bar and its dozens of regulars would be there when she wanted it. Slowly as she stepped behind the old cypress bar top the cogs in her brain would start whirring again and by the end of the evening she’d be as bouncy as ever, dancing with her awkward looking grace up and down the length of the scarred old floor boards, charming everybody in sight.
Waking up this morning she hadn’t wanted to see a single one of them. Clea rarely saw herself as the lone wolf type but when her brain was beginning to smoke and that restlessness had her practically jumping out of her chair every five minutes she knew she needed time away from people. An open window hadn’t helped, the sounds of the townsfolk outside was still audible on the brackish air, neither had an attempt to finish reading the book on mythology in the state. She’d started the dusty old tome last night and had found it almost impossible to put it down then but this morning the cramped type on the pages had just been frustrating, not intriguing. Expecting the smoke to start pouring any minute and the fuse to start fizzing, Clea had slung on a jacket and high tailed it away from the house. Out amongst the trees the silence she usually craved had settled in around here. With nothing but the sound of birds and the quiet murmur of the almost still water there was nothing to keep her mind buzzing. Thoughts were free to drift away or float to the parts of her brain that would hold onto them safely for further perusal. Memories, snatches of things she’d read or written drifted around each other like the flotsam in the waters of the bayou. There was a lot floating in her brain of late, a lot that she was having trouble picking apart to make sense of.
Pulling her coat tighter around her slim waist to ward off the faint chill that still seemed to linger in the air, Clea picked her way amongst the trees, pausing occasionally to watch a half seen creature make its way through the dark water of the bayou or to listen to the bright song of one of the birds who called the area home. At least they were singing today, she thought glumly, just a few weeks ago this area outside of town had seemed hushed by the grim discovery of a witch’s body out on the ice. It was hard to think of that evil being done out here, especially on a day like today. It had happened though and as far as she knew there still wasn’t so much as a suspect being named for it. If she’d been a little less sure of herself, a little less sure of the town she wouldn’t have made it this far away from civilisation. Clea knew her bravery had bothered her parents at times but just as she could chatter the ear of off anybody at a dozen paces, she could protect herself too. She didn’t have the spells her friend Katie could wield or Josh Daren’s police issued firearm but she could half deafen with a scream and leave any guy limping for a month with the combat boots that were laced over the skinny legs of her worn blue jeans. Against a witch or a wolf that might not exactly make much of a dent but that really didn’t matter. Cloistere was Cloistere, despite the recent murder she knew it was safe, just as much as she knew she was alone out here.
And didn’t that scent of smoke that began to reach her prove that she was an absolute fool. Frowning slightly as the smell found its way back amongst the trees Clea moved off of the path she’d been following, heading through the trees towards a scenic little spot she knew the town had developed for visitors. One little spot like this drove people to haul out their cameras and cell phones to snap pictures of the view, or it invited them to settle for a while and light up. Used to the scent as she was, Clea merely found herself grinning rather than griping as she paused at the tree line and leaned against the spreading trunk of one of the old cypress trees. ”Never did quite see the appeal of those things myself,” she told the solo occupant of the wooden bench. Clea lifted her chin, gesturing towards the cigarette he held. She’d tried them of course, it was impossible for a kid with an adventurous streak as hers not to. Just three of the little white sticks had assured her that she’d never be much of a smoker. ”I figured if there was any organ I’d end up destroying with a vice it might as well be my liver. Bourbon, adds a little fun to your evening and tastes a hell of a lot better than tobacco.” It also left people thinking you had some sorta issue with the bottle but like most other opinions on her, Clea didn’t care if that was what folks ended up thinking.
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Post by Cole Dannials on May 5, 2016 2:51:17 GMT
when i close my eyes reality overcomes me; i'm living a lie The idea of someone else finding Cole in this spot was almost unthinkable, he was quite secluded and away from the main trail, in one of the smaller areas of the bayou, one which he figured wasn't well known but when strangers to the town found it, they fell in love. He found himself in this exact spot for many evenings at one point, usually after an extremely rough shift or if he couldn't sleep, and every now and then, occasionally, he wound up here after having a few too many with a friend or two, grabbing a few extra beers from a late open shop and heading down to get absolutely annihilated. Of course, this was the sort of behaviour that would usually land people in hospital, usually in his care, but always being one of those people who would rather 'live for the moment', he knew he was being a total hypocrite when lecturing patients on their behaviours, including smoking. The moment was almost perfect, he took another toke of his cigarette, then once again, exhaled, spreading the poisonous gases through out his system and into the air to disappear, getting a slight nicotine rush was probably one of the high lights of his day. That was when he heard a voice, he turned his head quickly and sharply, almost panicked. "Bloody hell," He muttered under his breath as he managed to get it back. Obviously the idea of someone finding him didn't cross his mind, let alone talking to him. Usually people would just turn around and head back the way they came if they found someone sitting on their lonesome, of course they would, it wasn't 'normal' to be sat on your own by the lake side. He had to chuckle, however, when she explained what her poison of choice would be, it was quite refreshing to get someone who can appreciate everyone has their own life choices when it comes to smoking and drinking. Raising his eyebrow at her, he took in one last drag from the cigarette, stubbed it out and flicked it into the distance, even if she was one of those 'pick up your own butts' kind of people, good luck to her making him find it now. He wasn't even sure where it had landed. "Bourbon? Really? That stuff makes me just throw up everywhere," He replied, she didn't seem like a bourbon kind of girl, he would have put her down as more of a double vodka and lemonade kind of girl. "Cigarettes and beer, or vodka, or rum for me," He finished off, then gave her a half smile as he vaguely remembered the last time he had a heavy night on the vodka, climbing up lampposts and generally making a fool of himself in front of half of his colleagues. Admittedly, it's not the first time it had happened, and it definitely wouldn't be the last, and at that, he wasn't the first person or the last person to do it, either. He often found that on a night out with his colleagues there was always that one person who needed to be looked after more than anyone else. Not entirely sure what to make of the girl standing in front of him, he remained slightly on edge; if there was one thing he had learned about other people in this world is that they were dangerous, half of the reason he went into nursing. Those who are laying there completely immobilised are a lot less more likely to end up attacking you, where as if he worked in law, like his family, attempting to get people to walk away with no charges for things like murder, rape and burglary, then he would be mixing with some extremely dangerous people in the world. Never trust anyone on first glances, that one came more from living with his sister. He stretched his arms slightly, then looked back at Clea, "Name's Cole, what's yours?" He asked in an attempt to be polite and establish some ground. TAG: Clea Givens WORDS: 680 NOTES: sorry it's like 4 am haha |
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Post by Clea Givens on May 8, 2016 18:59:54 GMT
One of the things Clea had always loved about Cloistere, apart from the fact that she could have the best of both the crazy busy and silent worlds here, was the fact that practically everybody knew everybody else. The same faces tended to walk in her bar day in day out, the same people waved to her every morning as she strolled through the town towards the Half Moon. It would have bored some silly but she appreciated being able to do that after nearly two decades of never knowing if the town where she went to sleep was the same one she’d wake up in. Familiarity honestly warmed her heart, as did knowing that there was always company somewhere on the streets of Cloistere if she either wanted or needed it. Katie had been the first to extend that olive branch to her, making her feel more like a resident than someone just passing through and once she’d done that there were other Duprés, Frasers, Colts and dozens of other families ready to do the same. Two years later and it was truly feeling like home. Each inch of the town was painted vividly in her memory now, from the warm confines of her bar, to the dusty aisles of the library and even the clinical corridors of the hospital. The bayou had taken on that air eventually too, the damp, leafy trails etching themselves on her memory.
When she’d caught the scent of somebody else out here, someone who’d obviously taken himself into the woods for a quick cigarette, perhaps to escape a partner, or to catch a glimpse of the spot where a dead woman had lain, it was easy to work her way from one trail to another. Clea realised she’d obviously done it silent enough that he hadn’t heard her approach when his head whipped around towards her. It was tempting to laugh at the look on his face, the sound of his voice but she dialled it back to just a broad grin as she raised a hand and gave the man a finger wave. That was the sort of reaction she’d grown used to as a kid, when she’d slipped into the operating tent to watch her dad at work. ”Should probably apologise for the half heart attack,” Clea admitted, lifting her own hand to tap her fingers against her chest. ”Next time I’ll make some more noise coming in, maybe bring a brass band with me, or strap one of those little bells around my neck.” It was the sort of thing Josh would threaten to do to her if he caught her out here alone. Katie’s big brother was a police detective and one who was near paranoid about any of them getting into trouble out here. There’d already been one death he had yet to solve, he’d made it clear he wasn’t ready for his sister or one of her friends to end up next on the list. If he realised she was scaring the pants off of a stranger out in the bayou he’d probably be the one having a heart attack.
Tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket, Clea let her shoulders rise and fall at his question. More than one had looked at her like she’d grown a second head when they’d walked into the Half Moon to see her enjoying the stuff. Southern women didn’t drink bourbon, they stuck to something more gentile but that’d never been a word that had been used to describe her. ”That’s not quite the reaction I have to it. Rum on the other hand … you need to stay out of the spatter zone there.” And there she went proving the fact that she most definitely wasn’t the sort of woman her mother had tried to raise. The Givens’ weren’t the sort to publicly announce the shocking effects of alcohol on their digestive system. ”Well, you can get three of those from my place. The cigarettes you’d need to go elsewhere for. I tend to talk people into as many libations as possible.” Luckily for her there was somebody else there to help clean up the Half Moon at the end of the night. As Cole, as he introduced himself, seemed to relax enough to introduce himself, Clea drew herself away from the tree line and moved into the clearing. She didn’t offer her hand yet, there was still a little too much caution sounding in the back of her mind for that but she gave him a nod, a grin. ”Clea Givens. Purveyer of all sorts of drinks at the Half Moon on town square. You’ve probably seen the place if you’re from around here. Are you from around here?” It was a question she wouldn’t usually have asked but with the goings on around town over the winter she didn’t want to find herself in some morgue with Josh standing over her with his ‘I told you so’ reaching her permanently deaf ears. Impetuous she was, stupid she absolutely wasn’t.
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Post by Cole Dannials on May 9, 2016 6:10:43 GMT
when i close my eyes reality overcomes me; i'm living a lie As Clea began to give him an apology for giving him a bit of a shock, he felt a small smile creep in, it wasn't every day someone could give him a fright, it came with the territory of being part of his family. Truth be told, he was more worried it was going to be his sister turning up more than anyone. "Yeah, if you could get something to follow you around and announce your arrival, that'd be pretty sweet." He joked, she seemed to be a pretty decent person, even if he did come down here to get away from everything, her company wasn't unwelcome. After all, it was a public place, even if he didn't want her to be with him he couldn't tell her to go away from him. Free country and all that. When she opened up about the fact that she was the one who owned the half moon, Cole's interest piked up a little. He had been in there drinking before, but he couldn't say he had ever noticed her before, and if he had then he was way too smashed to even realise who he was talking to. Feeling slightly embarrassed by it he felt that the next question she asked definitely gave him a chance to deflect from the conversation heading towards alcohol, he had done some pretty disgusting things on his nights out, the worst one he could recall off the top of his head was chatted someone up just to get free drinks out of them, and then disappeared once he had got what he wanted. Sure, not the worst thing someone could do, but it was definitely quite a low thing. Then again, there was that time his friends paid him twenty bucks to make out with a girl at the bar, to him, when he had his drink head on, an easy twenty bucks is an easy twenty bucks. "Nah, I can't say I am," He began, shifting his body around a bit so he faced her a bit more. "I came from England, did my degree over there and been working in the US ever since" He finished off, he assumed his English accent would have given the fact that he wasn't from around here away as a sure fire and quick and easy small talk evader, but apparently not. "But, I have been here in Cloistere for a good few years now, but my family have now decided they want to expand the family business to America, and they're trying to start it out here, much to my dismay." He added on quickly before she started thinking that he was brand new in town and wanted to give him the run down on where to go for what. Admittedly, he never did get that talk when he first moved, but he knew that there were a few locals here who liked to give it out, he had heard it being given to people. Probably one of the more dull chats he'd ever heard someone have to sit through. Being out in the bayou gave him a kind of different perspective on the world, usually he would be caught up in the town's dramas or in the ever bustling hospital dealing with priority after priority, but here it seemed like the world stood still, it was calm, it was quiet and even with the recent murder, it seemed as if nothing could ever go wrong here. Perfect tranquillity. "So, what brings you out here today?" He asked out of curiousity, she didn't seem like the kind of girl who could go on a walk on her own, or at least that was Cole's initial judgement. Usually he would stick to his guns on first judgements on people, it was rare he was wrong but it did happen, funnily enough with one of his most recent lovers. He thought she was the best thing to ever happen to him, but he couldn't be more wrong, especially when she tried to take everything he had during the break up, and attempted to get him fired from his job. Vile woman. |
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May 13, 2016 17:57:21 GMT
Post by Clea Givens on May 13, 2016 17:57:21 GMT
With what had happened in town it was just as likely that her walking around the bayou making unexpected noises or tinkling like a bell would scare people as much as her moving silently did. Things here were bordering on getting creepy. Considering that the town was founded by witches and wolves that shouldn’t have been a surprise but strangely it was. Cloistere’s crime rate, according to the records Josh had allowed her to pry into from centuries past, had been miles below the national averages. This was the first murder ever to occur here. Given that it was no surprise people were a little on edge. Making a sound of agreement in her throat, Clea looked thoughtful for a moment. ”It would be,” she murmured, the little cogs seeming to spin behind her blue eyes as her lips pursed. ”What would be better though, a bell round my neck or a roaring fanfare announcing my presence? The fanfare’s harder to miss...” The thought of men as good looking as this one bowing before her when she arrived was far more appealing. A touch of a smirk touched Clea’s lips at the thought. Yep, as a single lady she’d be quite happy with that going on. Josh might not find it so appealing when he had to arrest them all for being a public nuisance though. As hung up as he seemed to be when it came to romance, it wasn’t a prospect he’d likely find appealing in the least.
Spending most of her formative years in culturally diverse places few things had ever been taboo subjects for her. Clea knew it wasn’t the same for everybody, that some shied from talk of vices like alcohol and cigarettes as much as they did the deeper depravities. That was the one area where Cloistere still seemed a little narrow minded. Wolves and witches might have wandered its streets but they still weren’t fans of public drunkenness or smut. Clea’s blonde brows were raised a little as she asked her question, then as soon as the answer came she was chuckling. ”My powers of detection are slipping, too long in one place has left me a little tone deaf.” Stopping at the edge of the bench Cole was sat on, Clea slipped her hands back into the pockets of her jacket. ”I spent some time in London when I was a teenager, my parents were out of the field for a while. Soon as he was better they went back out and I headed over here.” She wasn’t the only transplant who had come to call Cloistere home. People had arrived from all corners of the earth and it looked like the town had always kept up its reputation for welcoming all. Blue eyes cut from the water to the man, the ever mobile corners of her mouth twitching again. ”You don’t want them here? I totally get that. If my parents decided to settle down I’d probably want them pretty far away from here.” That was more because of the disappointment she might see on her mother’s face when her daughter went and did something publicly embarrassing again. Lucien and Vivienne weren’t bad parents really, but they certainly weren’t everybody’s cup of tea.
Trusting as much as she was might not have been the best idea in the world but Clea had always gone with her gut reaction to things. Sometimes that had led her neck deep into trouble, sometimes it’d worked out, today she was betting heavily on the later. There wasn’t any sort of ‘serial killer’ vibe going on with this guy, her hackles weren’t rising, chills weren’t running down her spine. Preparing herself for a bit of a chat she dropped herself down on the edge of the bench, slim legs stretched out towards the bayou. When she glanced sideways at Cole a rueful smile was touching her lips. ”I was chilling the hamster out,” she told him, feigning innocence as she leaned back against the back of the bench. ”The fresh air out here gets everything nice and mellow again.” Figuring she should explain more before the poor guy started suspecting she needed a padded room, Clea rolled her eyes skywards and tried again. ”I’m a writer when I’m not pulling pints. Sometimes I get all caught up in the research and the history and my brain gets to the point of ...” Clea made a sound like an explosion, miming steam pouring out of her ears. She hadn’t been that far off of it actually happening when she’d escaped from her apartment this morning. If she was lucky by the time she got back she’d be relatively chilled again.
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May 19, 2016 19:59:20 GMT
Post by Cole Dannials on May 19, 2016 19:59:20 GMT
when i close my eyes reality overcomes me; i'm living a lie This woman definitely seemed interesting, the kind of person that Cole could keep around for a while, she seemed to have a fair few things that she could talk about, and not only that, probably fill in any gaps when it came to questions about the town that he had. All that said, he didn't mind her disturbing his quiet as much any more. Usually if someone attempted to make conversation with him on his down time he would have just attempted to dismiss them at the earliest opportunity given, but not this time. Something about her was captivating, he wanted to continue the conversation flow, and from what he could gather, if he was having issues, she would have no problem doing it for him. When she asked why a bell would be better than the fan fare and the brass band following her around, he simply shrugged and gave her a sheepish look. Truth be told, the fanfare type entrance would probably scare him. As much as he's become more accustomed to loud noises, bleeping, people screaming in agony, there was something about the loud sounds that always made him feel slightly uneasy. Maybe it was because usually it was the shriek of terror he would receive immediately after having to tell someone they had lost their loved one and that their heart had stopped. Maybe it was because as he grew up, the loud sound of shattering glass was accompanied by his mother then screaming at his father in the most vulgar way possible. When Clea mentioned about visiting London at one point in her life, Cole's ears, he could swear, moved into a more upward position. Home. Maybe he didn't really class England as home as much as he used to back in the past, but it was definitely a sort of home for him, he knew, no matter how much he despised his family, he could always return and have a life pretty much sorted within a week. "Oh sweet, I came from London myself." He stated, as if it wasn't obvious enough, "What part did you go to?" He asked in an attempt to keep the conversation away from why he moved away and ditched the area, it wasn't something he was ashamed of, and he knew it was bound to come up with most people he met, but it wasn't something he liked to divulge into within the first hour or so of meeting someone, especially if they had heard what his family was like. It was pretty much a sure fire way for someone's opinion on him to change within seconds, especially if they were the kind of person to assume that everyone is like their whole entire family. Still, even if things didn't work out with some friendships, he was sure to see them again at some point, whether it was at work or just around the town, this small town left such small room for escape from others. He sat there listening to her next question, pondering for a minute or two before he gave her an answer, the last thing he wanted to do was drag his family name through the mud completely, and if he could allow them enough room to build their business, they might end up employing some people to keep an office running in Cloistere, and then disappear to another town or a bigger city and set up there, too. The horrific thought of their business dominating the U.S law system terrified him. "Well, let's just say that me going to nursing school didn't bode well with them and their plans to have me in the family law business." He answered, giving a small smirk at the memory of the huge break down his mother had when he broke the news to her, then the freak out that his sister had, telling him that she wouldn't blame their mother for cutting him off completely. Being cut off was actually something that wouldn't have bothered him as much as people would assume, sure the money comes in handy that he knows is always there if he needs it, but he would rather construct his own life in the way he wants to, instead of bowing to every whim of the business and having to put 'business before personal affairs'. Sure, good business and work ethic on their part, but where's the fun and play? His sister had grown into such a bitter woman from it, more so than his mother from what he could tell of her. "My mother and sister are both attempting to expand to the USA, she's pretty much dominated the London law industry, and I have a feeling that the US is next on their hit list." He elaborated on it, attempting to give Clea a vague idea of what they're like as people. Admittedly, he was quite surprised when she sat down, most people would keep their distance if they found a man sat on his own by the water side, especially with what had happened recently here, the details were a bit sketchy to Cole, he wasn't entirely sure what to believe actually happened here, all he knew is it shook the community's grounds quite a fair bit. "Writer?" He asked, it wasn't shock or disbelief that came out of his mouth, it was more the kind of 'I didn't see that coming', and it was quite evident. Not that being judgemental was something that he would ever be, not intentionally anyway. He chuckled lightly to himself when she did the explosion mimic, simply nodding at her, the 'I understand' nod. One that he had perfected for many different scenarios over the years. "Yeah, I get that, I usually go for a long walk after a shit day at the office before I explode." He replied to her. That was when it hit him, what hobbies did he actually have? He was quite a boring person, all work no play makes Cole a dull boy. The job interview for his current position was one of the worst experiences he'd ever had; 'What do you do with yourself out of work?'. The impossible to answer question. That one question made him question his whole entire life and his own identity. "So, you got anything you're currently writing?" He asked, as much as he couldn't write to save his own life, he did love to read a good book, but that was only when he could find the time or he wasn't too busy recovering from a vile hangover. TAG: Clea Givens WORDS: 1,105 NOTES: head back in the game |
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May 26, 2016 15:06:57 GMT
Post by Clea Givens on May 26, 2016 15:06:57 GMT
Considering how much noise she usually made without the added fanfare it was probably best not to try and announce her presence further. She could manage silence of course and often did for hours at a time as she huddled over a pile of new books, pages of notes gathering around her until finally the spell was broken and she groggily seemed to wake with a stiff neck and aching fingers. That was a side of her few in this town got to see though. The instant somebody else was there the chatter started, add close friends to that and suddenly the volume was going from around a 2 to a 20. It was the over-excitable part of her, that bit that relished having people around that she cared about, people she could laugh with. Maybe if she’d burst in already like that this guy would’ve run from the hills before she’d had a chance to charm him. Seeing the sheepish look she got from him now Clea turned her considering look into a grin. ”That looks like one vote for the bell. I guess the fanfare would be a little OTT for Cloistere.” It would be OTT for most places she’d lived, if you could call those almost overnight stops in towns and villages across the third world living anywhere. London was probably the first place she’d actually felt like she’d settled in and that hadn’t been for more than just a few months.
Given his accent her acquaintance’s origins should’ve been obvious but in her glee over startling him that particular fact had floated way above her head. She’d been fascinated by accents as a kid, picking up words of a dozen languages as she’d travelled with her parents, imitating the kids that she got to spend time with when she wasn’t tucked up in one of the tents or medical buildings for her own safety. London had seemed to buzz with almost as many accents and languages and not all of them were entirely foreign. Even the London accents could be so different to one another, each area of the city seeming to have developed its own. Laughing, Clea aimed a finger in his direction. ”I really should’ve caught that, I’m not usually this dense.” Her glee had made her that way though, as it often did, her overactive mind scattering in too many directions. The corner of her mouth tightened slightly at the thought of why they’d been there but she wasn’t going to go into too much detail about how her dad had got caught up in an attack at a field hospital. ”North and central mostly, we had an apartment in Islington. My dad was spending some time at King’s and at one of the hospitals there and me and my mom went along with him. I got to actually go to a real school for once. It was pretty eye opening.” It had been the first time they’d been in a city that big for more than just a few days. Leaving had been hard and no matter how much she’d pouted and whined they’d still gone.
Black sheep, every family had them. The sort who didn’t want to go into the family business or toe the line the same way the others wanted to. Some came back to the family fold eventually, having sewn wild oats or gotten the adventure out of their system, others remained long gone. She’d always thought of herself as being somewhere in the middle of those two. Her parents had known from the minute they’d found her with her head stuck in a book that she likely wasn’t ever going to feel as at home behind a camera lens as her mom or as happy being wrist deep in intestines as her dad. With her the studying hadn’t been half the problem that settling down was. Her parents had always been at their happiest on the road, moving from camp to camp, from war zone to famine. They’d not seen a problem with her still going with them, continuing to study solely online, writing in helicopters or beneath the cover of a dusty tent. Maybe with a little time they’d become more tolerant but there were still the occasional calls about when she’d be joining them again. A sympathetic look filled Clea’s eyes as she glanced down at the guy, at the smirk that touched his lips. ”Couldn’t see yourself strutting round in a suit, charging five hundred bucks per hour?” she asked, trying to picture that now. It wasn’t the sort of life that would fit everybody and it looked like Cole was heading in a very different direction to everybody else in his family.
Not just a family with a vocation then, Clea realised as Cole continued to speak. They were a family looking to mark their mark worldwide rather than just in London. Some firms managed it, she’d heard that from one of the other inhabitants of the town, a lawyer who’d struck out on his own away from his family’s little empire, but why anyone would think of Cloistere as a good place for it was beyond her. Humour twisted Clea’s mouth as she let her gaze drift from the man to the direction where the town lay. ”Wouldn’t get all that much business if they leapt in here. Cloistere’s not exactly Chicago or DC. You think they’d be happy defending old Mrs Grady for threatening the neighbours kids with her zimmer frame?” Clea let out a chuckle at the mental image. Law in Cloistere certainly wasn’t glamourous, although maybe with a killed in their midst that would change. There was a chance the sleepy little town would soon become a hot bed of attention, the sort their not so human residents probably wouldn’t be too appreciative of.
Josh was going to flip out if he heard about this later but the moment she honestly didn’t care. Serial killers didn’t start telling you about their family before they ripped your guts out, at least not the sort she’d read about, and they certainly didn’t jump out of their skin at the sound of an unexpected voice. Seemed like surprising this guy was what she was going to do the entire time she was here too. The job title she gave herself came right back at her and the question in Cole’s tone had Clea chuckling. Most people certainly didn’t see that when they looked at her. Tapping her fingers against the back of the seat back, Clea nodded. ”Yep, a writer. Didn’t expect that after the bartending bit right? Most don’t, they see ditzy blonde who spends all her time about alcohol and they expect my IQ to be in single digits.” That was pretty damn far from the truth but they refused to believe it a lot of the time. ”I take it by office you mean crazy busy hospital?” Clea asked, making a few assumptions from what he’d said about nursing school earlier. She’d seen what it was like for healthcare workers when she’d travelled with her parents. It was a full on job on the front lines. Dropping her hands back into her lap, Clea gave Cole a sideways glance, her eyes narrowing playfully. ”I’m always writing something or another. Right now I’m actually working on something about the town, a sort of potted history of Cloistere. A lot of people would be bored stiff digging through all the historical documents but I absolutely love it.” She always had. The first library she’d ever gotten to step into at King’s College had been mind blowing. Ranks upon ranks of old leather bound books, their pages and knowledge crumbling a little more every year.
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