Eternal City RP
Human
Learning from your mistakes - Lyndon Beckett and Willow Braelynd only
The road lay ahead like a tarmac ribbon, work and scuffed from years of movement. A while line ran down the centre, dappled and scarred by the potholed concrete. The cold lay heavy like a blanket, each breath fogging and floating away as if it were smoke over a fire and periodically the cold pressed in further, carried by a wind that howled like a wolf to the moon. The usual busy street was silent, pooled intermittently with artificial light, orange and flickering in some place, benches littered with graffiti that usually held shopping bags and people glued to a mobile phone now stood like dormant sentries, yet footsteps echoed loudly, bouncing off the closed shop windows.
Lyndon James Beckett was drunk…again. Though, albeit, not totally drunk in the cool night air, but not totally sober either. He tumbled out of the last remaining bar in Evermore, a bouncer dressed all in black yelling ‘Get outta here!’ behind him and the Diviner now was left to beat the pavement. In usual Lyndon style, he had drunk nearly two bottles of single malt and thought he’d spotted one of the many ghosts that plagued his life. He was a fighter, always had been, and his fists just happened to move that inch quicker than his mind did and so, after spotting whom he thought was one of the men who usurped him from his London-Throne-room, he swung…and missed.
His first error that evening.
His second error was to go for a second chance at a hit…This time however it connected, straight to the guys front teeth. Lyndon’s already scarred knuckles split on impact with the tooth and while the diviner turned to hold his now bloody hand, the red-hot rogue running down his fingers, the poor victim of this attack reached for a bottle…
The next thing Lyndon realised was the bouncer of the bar throwing him onto the cold tarmac and shouting loudly. Shaking hands reached up to run through his short brown locks, yet was met some something warm and slightly sticky, looking at his hands he realised there was more blood there and instead of panic, a void laugh bubbled off the diviner’s lips. He hauled himself up from the ground and steadied his swaying frame before reaching up to run his fingers over his forehead to find the inevitable cut and finding what he presumed was a shard of glass. Plucking that out, he flicked it to the ground with a soft ‘ting’.
His feet begun to move, echoing loudly in the cold silence. Blinking away the drops of blood that pooled from his brow and dripped slowly down his cheek, the Diviner began patting his pockets until he found a small, squished box. Cigarettes, Lyndon’s only other vice aside from drinking and something he had tried to quit for a long time. Fumbling around in the packet, he found an intact cigarette in the packet and lit up, taking a long inhale, holding…Then a long and loud exhale.
Stumbling over to one of the many benches that lined the road in Evermore’s centre, he reclined back and finally caught sight of his white shirt. “Damn it…” He snapped into the still air. Blood stained his shirt in drips and drops, some smeared from his knuckles, others like raindrops on glass drips and drops all over. He sighed heavily and lifted his cigarette to his lips, holding it firmly and taking another long drag. With his cigarette out of hand, Lyndon began trying to scrub off the blood with his equally bloody hand, cursing himself again and again for continuing to smear the blood. As this went on, the ash on his cigarette begun to slowly drift down onto his black trousers.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen…
Human
✓ Everson Echo
As she spoke, Lyndon remained quiet. He merely watched her as she said there was another way. Little did she know…Lyndon was a fighter, he had to be, because he was terrified that if you took the fight out of him there’d be nothing left to have. Lyndon grew up fighting, whether it was his peers or whether it was his father, fighting was in his blood. Why would he change now?
“Evermore has fight clubs.” He said simply “But they’re layered with rules to the point where you can’t actually beat your opponent. It’s a tap out sort of affair, too soft for me.” He said simply and released a sigh. “Look, you don’t have to help me. I’ll go sew it together myself…” He muttered, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to see to sew it right.
“Like I said. Not every night. Usually I do it myself.” He said simply and then scoffed at the word infection. “I’ve got a great immune system.” As she mentioned his scars, Lyndon frowned slightly. “My scars show my story.” He said softly. “They’re here forever, and I know exactly how I got every single one.” Lyndon then chuckled. “And no, the majority of these are not from bar fights.” He added, knowing that’s what she’d presume. It was true, most of his scars, especially on his back, are from his father. The scars on his front are mostly from Careen and most of the ones across his arms were from brawls for power back in London. “They show victory…Scars show life. I’m proud of them, even if most of the world turns their nose up at them.”
Glancing back to his shirt as she mentioned it, Lyndon traced the blood smears with his finger and sighed heavily once more. “There’s no chance ill bleach all this out.” He muttered under his breath.
Being left outside, Lyndon sparked up again and took long, smooth drags, exhaling with a small smirk across his lips as the white smoke danced through the air like a river against the cold. When she came back, he wandered after her and sat down beside her, turning to face her. “If I had a dollar for every time someone like you said that, I’m be richer than I already am.” He chimed back with a snort.
It was true, a lot of the staff in the hospital were judgemental. A lot of them reported Lyndon to the police. However, Willow didn’t, not that he knew about anyway, but whenever he left Willow, he didn’t have a parade by the exits, or a car waiting outside, or to some extent a police van outside his house. She seemed to just get her job done and let him leave peacefully.
Leaning towards her a little more so she could begin, he gestured. “Don’t worry about numbing or anything. Just get sewing. Make me pretty again.” He said, joking about the latter with a chuckle rolling off his lips to finish. He watched her as she prepared before turning his gaze away.
Maybe it was time he should stop getting sewn up so much?
Apr 3, 2019
Celestial
✓ Willow Eleonora Braelynd
Willow was still trying to wrap her head around everything since being released from captivity and coming back to reality she the present day. Missing out on so much in the few decades that she was kept locked up. Having to catch up on decades filled within the space of few weeks. It always amazes the others to how well and fast her and her brother Elias took to adapt. Even back before the two of them made sure to keep all up to date. Never wanting to be one of the other immortal beings stuck in the present. Something that is more commonly known with other Celestials, especially from her own fraction. Maybe Willow felt more of a push now to adapt so it wouldn’t hold her back to peruse other careers for what she wanted to do. “Just find somewhere eee you can fight but you won’t find yourself lying, beaten up and dying in a gutter somewhere” She persisted a little, something she’s told others like him. Willow wasn’t one of the other nurses who try to pressure other people into seeking help. She’d do it bluntly and straight to the point, but let others find their own way. Knowing people who are looking for help would accept and look for when given.
Sleep was something she felt like doing about now but she knew she’d not sleep even if she tried. Knowing she’d be up for other days until she could get some sleep at least. Struggling with insomnia still but didn’t want any help for it. “I’ll help you don’t worry. If you do it, you’ll even end up stabbing your eye or stitch the wound up all jagged” Willow mused pointing out for what she could see happening. Seeing quite a few home stitching go wrong in her days. “You can send me the bill later on” She smirked teasing him, knowing if she did he’ll end up not paying like many others. “I don’t come cheap either”
With the mention of scars and patching him up himself, Willow was now noticing all the old and new scars that were scattered all other his body. Able to sense and tell that he was telling the truth, and knowing that it may be a lot darker. All the deep rooted issues that he was keeping to himself. “At least it can make a good pick up line, getting a girl or someone to look at your scars. Playing dot to dot” She mused making light of it all rather than press on to being concern for how much percentage of his body was scared. “We all have different things of ourselves that tell a story if it is physical or mental. Scars that can never go away, never forgetter” Willow admitted, turning the conversation to a more darker one but was speaking from her past experiences too. “Everybody got something to hide”
The shirt that he favoured so much was from no return, noticing after she’d pointed it out he soon realized the truth. “Maybe stick to black or darker colour next time” knowing for certain they’ll be a next time. “I’ll be right back” she reminded, reassuring him. The Redhead Celestial went back into the hospital that she’d only just left. Going down and through into the morgue part of the hospital where she knew there was a first aid kit she could easily burrow. With no questions asked. Soon returning to the beaten up male who was no sobering up a little “you know just that is not a good thing” She chuckled pointing out before rolling her eyes to him. Knowing you’ll never change people him him. Using the light from the lamp posts Willow started to stich him up, putting on gloves first. Cleaning up the wound, using antiseptic wipes before sewing it up. Concentrating on doing it right. “The alcohol you already consumed would have done the job already” pointing out the truths. “The cut isn’t that deep so it shouldn’t permanently scar like all the others” Willow reassured lightly as she was finishing it up. Taking off her gloves, disposing of what she’s used. Putting first aid kit back into her bag that she’d return another day. “All done”
May 11, 2019
Human
✓ Everson Echo
Lyndon took in what she was saying, he usually did when she patched him up, but he rolled a shrug from his shoulders and almost scoffed at her words. “You seem to think theres more to live for than that.” He said simply and wet his lips with a quick flick of his tongue. “You have your whole life ahead of you. A life to live. I’m 108 and I’ve already ruined mine.” He grumbled. She was young and had her whole life stretched beyond this moment. Lyndon was an old soul, he’d seen and done more than people do in 1000 years, all condensed into one rather fucked up century.
He couldn’t help but look down as she came on to help him. He was ashamed that once again he needed a patch up, but more ashamed that it was she who had to do the patch up again. He sighed softly and ran his fingers through his red-tainted locks. He chuckled as she said she didn’t come cheap and he rolled his eyes. “When you’re done I’ll send the funds over.” He said simply. He wasn’t used to paying directly after the treatment, he usually left quickly and paid the bill afterwards.
A laugh left his lips as she mentioned dot to dot and he nodded slightly. “Indeed.” He said softly and looked at his cut and scarred hands. As she mentioned everyone having something to hide, he watched her, his eyes narrowing slightly before glancing down. “It seems theres more to you than just the nice nurse.” He said softly.
As she mentioned his shirt, he chuckled again and groaned “It really doesn’t matter.” He said simply. As she began stitched, Lyndon smirked softly “It hurts a lot less when you do it.” He said simply and then pouted slightly. “Really? And here I thought I’d get another beautiful scar for my collection.” He teased.
After she’d finished, He straightened up and nodded. “Thank you.” He said softly and tilted his head. “I wish all scars were this easy to fix.” With that he stood up, his eyes going to the rising sun that was just starting to peek over the horizon. “I’d best let you go…I’ve taken up more of your evening than I should have done.” He then patted his pockets and took out a pen, then took his wallet out and got a scrap of paper, probably a receipt of some variety, from it and scribbled his number down onto the paper. “Here, let me know where to send payment too.”
May 12, 2019