Post by ~♥adverb on Nov 25, 2009 21:11:01 GMT -8
A handful of character history for whoever cares! *strikes pose* I'll update with more 'chapters' later. I may have some of my other characters in here, too, though so keep an eye skinned!
~~~Chapter I~~~
The office stood, as it always had, on a very nondescript street corner. Most of the town was empty, echoing and eerie with dead leaves and remains of war. The army had camped there not three days ago, and the remains of makeshift tents and dead fires still littered the street. Freeing a hand to pull his hat lower over his eyes, he crossed the road without looking up from his destination. Automobiles had long since forsaken the city, since the machines had been spotted heading this way. It wouldn’t be long, the reports had said, before this town would become a battlefield.
The doctor’s office was a small, unassuming building, and one of the only ones on the street that still had a light on in the window. He knew that doctor all right; that lamp wouldn’t be smoldering in the window if she’d already evacuated.
Like she should have.
With gritted teeth, he flung the door open and stormed inside, excusing his presence with a loud, “Amelia, what the bloody devil you think you’re doing?”
The target of his query had most of her features hidden beneath the mask and cowl of a surgeon, and her sharp green eyes flashed his way before looking back down to the patient.
From the patient’s uniform, he must have been a solider, barely older than seventeen, the man guessed, with no medals to speak of. Only an old, ugly wound decorated his chest, and Amelia’s gloved fingers dipped into it time and again, pulling out tiny pieces of shrapnel. Either she didn’t feel the blood staining her gloves, or she didn’t care. She, like the visitor himself, had long ago had the luxury of squeamishness brutally torn away from her.
“If your bloody foot is acting up, then at least spare yourself the decency to knock,” she snapped back, upturning her gloved hand. “Well, as long as you’re here, make yourself useful, unless you’re too crippled to get me my gauze.”
Shifting his grip on his crutches, the visitor made the quick hop into the room and handed over the clean white roll. “Don’t dodge the bleedin’ point, Amelia-”
She was squeezing the soldier’s hand, whispering gentle encouragements and easing him into a sitting position. From the pallor on the boy’s face, it was clear the wound was troubling him. It was even clearer that Amelia was not going to hear him out until she’d finished treating her patient. She bound the gauze tightly, and tied it off with a clean linen bandage, her movements made deft and precise by years of practice. With the same kindness, she helped the boy to stand, and eased him outside of the office. Leaning back on his crutches, the man could do nothing but watch as Amelia handed over food, water, and clean bandages, and told the soldier where to evacuate.
“They only left three days ago, you should be able to catch up to them.” He heard her tell the soldier.
As she closed the door behind her, the visitor growled, “That’s exactly what I should be tellin’ you.” He’d forsaken his crutches for leaning against the wall, arms folded, hat low over his face, but not low enough to hide the frustrated scowl he was sporting.
Amelia peeled off her mask and scarf. She was not a particularly attractive woman, with a disfiguring scar across her cheekbones and features too sharp to have really ever been pretty, and her hair was almost nonexistent; a fine blonde fuzz on her scalp from where she’d sheared it all off and donated it to the war effort just last year. “You know what my answer is.”
The visitor’s hands balled into fists. “Yeah, and that’s why I’m coming here.”
Amelia leaned against her desk, arms planted on her hips and that cocky smirk on her face. “So you’re going to drag me out of here on your crutches, are you? You couldn’t even beat me when you were at your prime.”
“I bloody well know that.” he snarled.
“Don’t think I’m gonna hold back on you, ‘cause you’re a cripple OR cause of those times I dragged you home from the bar and fixed you up.” She paused. “Or the times I’ve hid you and your whole bloody crew from the cops, and Lord on high tell me why I did that.”
He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it at her; she caught it, and he watched her expression change to a faint, puzzled look.
She stroked the material of the doll in her hands, and held it up to the light. “Heh… kinda looks like me.” She said, taking in the apron and hairless crown. Then her expression changed again, and she looked at him.
“Now lissen up, and don’t you say a word ‘til I’m done.” The man got off the wall, wincing as he put weight on his bad foot, and hooking his arms back under his crutches. “There’s some scientist types around here- nother one of the loonies that won’t evacuate.” He sent her a humorless smile. “I just did me a bit of smooth talking, and it turns out they may have a way to save your sorry butt from where you’ve landed it.”
Amelia sent him a sour look, but tucked the doll into her apron pocket all the same. “Okay, fine. I’ll bite, if just so you'll stop smiling at me like that, Coraggedey.”
The man grinned, sincerely this time, and flipped up the brim of his hat just enough to show one twinkling blue eye. “I love it when you say that.”
~~~Chapter I~~~
The office stood, as it always had, on a very nondescript street corner. Most of the town was empty, echoing and eerie with dead leaves and remains of war. The army had camped there not three days ago, and the remains of makeshift tents and dead fires still littered the street. Freeing a hand to pull his hat lower over his eyes, he crossed the road without looking up from his destination. Automobiles had long since forsaken the city, since the machines had been spotted heading this way. It wouldn’t be long, the reports had said, before this town would become a battlefield.
The doctor’s office was a small, unassuming building, and one of the only ones on the street that still had a light on in the window. He knew that doctor all right; that lamp wouldn’t be smoldering in the window if she’d already evacuated.
Like she should have.
With gritted teeth, he flung the door open and stormed inside, excusing his presence with a loud, “Amelia, what the bloody devil you think you’re doing?”
The target of his query had most of her features hidden beneath the mask and cowl of a surgeon, and her sharp green eyes flashed his way before looking back down to the patient.
From the patient’s uniform, he must have been a solider, barely older than seventeen, the man guessed, with no medals to speak of. Only an old, ugly wound decorated his chest, and Amelia’s gloved fingers dipped into it time and again, pulling out tiny pieces of shrapnel. Either she didn’t feel the blood staining her gloves, or she didn’t care. She, like the visitor himself, had long ago had the luxury of squeamishness brutally torn away from her.
“If your bloody foot is acting up, then at least spare yourself the decency to knock,” she snapped back, upturning her gloved hand. “Well, as long as you’re here, make yourself useful, unless you’re too crippled to get me my gauze.”
Shifting his grip on his crutches, the visitor made the quick hop into the room and handed over the clean white roll. “Don’t dodge the bleedin’ point, Amelia-”
She was squeezing the soldier’s hand, whispering gentle encouragements and easing him into a sitting position. From the pallor on the boy’s face, it was clear the wound was troubling him. It was even clearer that Amelia was not going to hear him out until she’d finished treating her patient. She bound the gauze tightly, and tied it off with a clean linen bandage, her movements made deft and precise by years of practice. With the same kindness, she helped the boy to stand, and eased him outside of the office. Leaning back on his crutches, the man could do nothing but watch as Amelia handed over food, water, and clean bandages, and told the soldier where to evacuate.
“They only left three days ago, you should be able to catch up to them.” He heard her tell the soldier.
As she closed the door behind her, the visitor growled, “That’s exactly what I should be tellin’ you.” He’d forsaken his crutches for leaning against the wall, arms folded, hat low over his face, but not low enough to hide the frustrated scowl he was sporting.
Amelia peeled off her mask and scarf. She was not a particularly attractive woman, with a disfiguring scar across her cheekbones and features too sharp to have really ever been pretty, and her hair was almost nonexistent; a fine blonde fuzz on her scalp from where she’d sheared it all off and donated it to the war effort just last year. “You know what my answer is.”
The visitor’s hands balled into fists. “Yeah, and that’s why I’m coming here.”
Amelia leaned against her desk, arms planted on her hips and that cocky smirk on her face. “So you’re going to drag me out of here on your crutches, are you? You couldn’t even beat me when you were at your prime.”
“I bloody well know that.” he snarled.
“Don’t think I’m gonna hold back on you, ‘cause you’re a cripple OR cause of those times I dragged you home from the bar and fixed you up.” She paused. “Or the times I’ve hid you and your whole bloody crew from the cops, and Lord on high tell me why I did that.”
He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it at her; she caught it, and he watched her expression change to a faint, puzzled look.
She stroked the material of the doll in her hands, and held it up to the light. “Heh… kinda looks like me.” She said, taking in the apron and hairless crown. Then her expression changed again, and she looked at him.
“Now lissen up, and don’t you say a word ‘til I’m done.” The man got off the wall, wincing as he put weight on his bad foot, and hooking his arms back under his crutches. “There’s some scientist types around here- nother one of the loonies that won’t evacuate.” He sent her a humorless smile. “I just did me a bit of smooth talking, and it turns out they may have a way to save your sorry butt from where you’ve landed it.”
Amelia sent him a sour look, but tucked the doll into her apron pocket all the same. “Okay, fine. I’ll bite, if just so you'll stop smiling at me like that, Coraggedey.”
The man grinned, sincerely this time, and flipped up the brim of his hat just enough to show one twinkling blue eye. “I love it when you say that.”