Domestic Servant/Bootlegger
Neutral
Heterosexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
Twenty-eight years old
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Andie
Offline
EST (GMT -5)
Tag me @andie
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Post by Andrea Irene Brennan on Dec 15, 2014 2:09:30 GMT -6
In another world, Andie liked to think that she would have made something of herself, had a job a little more dignifying than being someone’s housemaid. She liked to think she would have finished school, probably excelled in either Charms or Potion-Making… though, honestly, what kind of job would she have been able to get anyway? A factory job, sweating herself to death while sticking her arm in dangerous machines with the risk of getting a limb chopped off? A desk job where she might have to deal with constant sexual harassment because of her inability to move out of a room in time, or out of a room period? Maybe in this imaginary world, women could do something more than sit around, and if that was the case… what kind of job would she have held?
Andie had to sigh to herself, looking in the broken, dusty mirror to make sure she at least looked halfway presentable. Christian had already gone off to school, she’d ushered him out the door less than twenty minutes ago. She hadn’t exactly… told him about her newfound employment just yet, mostly because it was honestly a toss-up as to whether or not she’d still have this job by the end of the day. It had happened before, after all. Someone had agreed to hire her, but after just a day of Andie’s presence, they’d… well. Needless to say, Andie had been given many false leads before in her life. No need to give her son or herself hope when it would only get crushed hours later.
Regardless, it admittedly did feel good to finally be able to dress up for a job. Her best clothes were always reserved for work, or for Sunday church and brunch with Grams. To finally look like a productive member of society actually made her feel like one. Like a real person, rather than an animal that kept getting kicked down. Like a woman deserving of the role she found herself in – a caregiver, a mother. And that, in and of itself, brought some kind of light to her eyes. So with one last sip of her coffee (and dumping the remainder down the sink), Andie double-checked herself one last time in her son’s mirror (she didn’t own one of her own, obviously) before heading out the door into a bustling New York City morning.
Now, if anyone found it odd that a poor Irish woman from Queens was getting on a bus with the last change in her pocket to get to the Upper East Side, they didn’t say anything. It was relatively assumed that she was one of two things: a maid, or a prostitute. And nobody was quite brazen enough (at least on this particular morning) to ask which one was the case. Though, admittedly, it probably also didn’t help that if she did explain, her explanation would comprise of her trying to say that a young, single, rich man with a lot more time on his hands than someone like her had was her new employer. And, well. She was a relatively attractive-looking woman. Even if it was heinously inaccurate to say it, Andie understood the reasoning behind certain peoples’ assumptions.
The bus ride was long, and after the second stop, Andie gave up her seat to an older man that looks like he was about to fall over on his way to the factory if he didn’t sit down. She hadn’t gotten a thank you, but she didn’t exactly care, electing to stand the rest of the way even though more than once, the man behind her consistently pretended to “bump” into her, rubbing up against her backside like she was some kind of prostitute. To which Andie would always subtly ram her elbow backwards, just to make herself clear. Even if he never seemed to get the memo.
So she was honestly thankful once the bus came to a stop close enough to get off, and with an irritated glare over her shoulder as she exited the bus (which was returned by a sardonic smirk, ’Seriously. Men.’), Andie struggled to put all that behind her the second fresh air hit her nostrils. Or, at least, as fresh as Manhattan could be.
Besides a few days ago, when she’d first come here for the interview, Andrea Brennan had never been to the Upper East Side before. It was crisper, cleaner, and a hell of a lot nicer than the Queens she was used to, and she found her eyes roaming with every passing step as she made her way towards the address her new… employer had provided for her. Christ, what she wouldn’t have given to have been able to raise her son in this neighborhood. Did crime even happen here? Did parents have to constantly worry about their children wandering home with bloody faces and bruises all over their body? Did any of them ever panic over what they were going to put on the table?
No, she had to put thoughts of being a mother aside. She had to be childless, while she was here. In most cases, Andie preferred being honest with people, but over the past several years, she’d learned a trick. If she wanted to get and keep a job, people (especially the generally single and/or easily attracted men that generally did the hiring) couldn’t know that she already had a twelve-year old son that suggested things about her past that simply weren’t true. Thus, Zachary Mason did not know her as Andrea Brennan, the half-starved and exhausted mother that strove to put food on the table for her son. He would know her as Andrea Brennan, the housemaid that only had interest in earning pay and making a life for herself. Which, in a sense, both of them were true.
His house was the second-to-last one on the street, and Andie looked up at it – she’d been here once before, answering the newspaper ad. And somehow, out of the doubtlessly dozens of other domestic servants that had likely come and applied… well. Zachary Mason had picked her. Maybe it had been her charm (she doubted it, she had about as much charm as a brass doorknob), or maybe it had been her honesty and straightforward attitude (that she’d at least admit she had – others would probably call it abrasive bluntness). Or maybe that it had been that she was willing to work for cheap. (Because Christ, who offered that much to domestic servants? Thank the Lord he’d picked her, otherwise he might have been saddled with someone that had actually let him pay that bull amount of money he’d initially tried to offer her – maybe anyone else might have just snatched the money and ran.) Still, as she looked up at the house, far larger than any home she’d been in before, let alone cleaned, she surprisingly didn’t have any fear or anxiety. She was here to do a job. Might as well get started.
So, with her ragged coat wrapped tightly around her, and her small bag tucked safely inside it, Andie made her way up the small walk and padded up onto the porch, her business-like expression already in place as she lifted her fist to knock.
When the door eventually opened, Andie cleared her throat, looking up at her new employer with an expression that almost resembled defiance as she proclaimed, ”Andrea Brennan, Mr. Mason. We agreed I’d be here by nine? Sorry if my being early causes some kind of… problem. Bus came sooner than I’d thought. But I figured I might as well get started as soon as possible instead of waiting out here uselessly in the cold.” She spoke it all with a succinct, business-like tone, eyeing the… (admittedly) handsome young man on the other side of threshold. God, she hoped she didn’t futz this job opportunity up.
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Domestic Servant/Bootlegger
Neutral
Heterosexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
Twenty-eight years old
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Andie
Offline
EST (GMT -5)
Tag me @andie
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Post by Andrea Irene Brennan on Dec 14, 2014 23:36:11 GMT -6
”Oh, yes, what could possibly happen to a twelve-year old boy with no means of defending himself while its dark in a seedy city like New York?” came the sarcastic, sardonic, almost irritated huff of a response that Christian received. Andrea Brennan was a no-nonsense kind of woman – she liked to think herself a realist, and quite frankly, the fact that her son believed that he was invincible was rather troubling. Or maybe he was just trying to reassure her. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t working, and she ushered him inside and quickly locked the door behind them because for heaven’s sake, he was twelve. Perhaps one day he’d be tall and have a semi-intimidating presence. But until then, he was just a little boy, and damn it, she was going to keep him safe one way or another.
Christian had it hard. She was not an ignorant idiot who wasn’t aware of that – far from it, actually. He was a boy born from an unwed mother, an unwed Irish mother, and he was a boy of mixed race to boot. He came home for days on end with bumps and bruises, and even though he often refused to explain what had happened, Andie knew. People were utter… idiots, to put it lightly. They picked on him because it was easy to do so, and because he was too good of a boy to do a number on anyone, and maybe that was her own fault, telling him to keep his head above it all. But at the end of the day, the world had already ridden her low. She only wanted her son to avoid that same fate, even if half the time, she had no damn idea how to save him from it. She could only try. Even if she would never forgive herself if she failed.
But she was a mother. And there was no doubt about that, as she helped her son into bed and sighed as she pulled the covers up over him. At the offered so-called fireflies, Andie offered her son a sad, weary smile. ”I think they’ll do a better job helping you, hm? I’m a tough old dame, monsters don’t dare come near me,” she gently teased, a slight mischievous spark to those dark eyes. ”You just go on to sleep, sweetheart, you need it for school, and-“
Then came the admission that he hadn’t passed a test. Again. Andie pressed her lips together, and without another word, she sat down on the edge of his bed and leaned over to turn on the rickety old lamp on Christian’s bedside table so she could look down at her son properly. It was clear to see that he hadn’t been willing to admit that out loud, as she looked down at him, and for a long moment… she tried to debate what to do about it. Could she really be angry with him? Did she actually have the right, when she knew that he was a smart boy, that it wasn’t… out of insolence or stupidity that he wasn’t doing well? Because, at the end of the day, wasn’t this her fault? Her failure, as a mother, that she couldn’t… ensure that her son did well?
She might have been doing her best to be a good mother. That didn’t mean that she actually succeeded.
A deep sigh escaped the young woman as she rubbed a hand over her lips as if to prevent herself from saying something inflammatory. She was only twenty-eight, had been a child herself when she'd given birth and taken on responsibility for the boy lying down behind her. The only experience with parenting she’d had beforehand were the tastes of kindness from her grandparents, and the constant bitterness from her own mother and father. She’d been hated for things she couldn’t control from the time she was born, and now her son was experiencing the same thing… Christ.
”Christian, I thought I helped you study for this one, sweetheart. We’ve spoken about this, school needs to be your number one priority, so you can do better than your mother once you get out of it. I know it… I know it hasn’t been easy, I’ve been-“ She sighed and looked away for another minute, rubbing her hand over her lips again as she struggled to come up with the words. ”Tell you what, sweetheart. Bring your books home tomorrow. I’ll… come home early. We’ll go over what we can. What else are you having trouble in?” Because she wasn’t stupid enough to think Arithmancy was the only class he struggled with. It was probably the only useless class he was struggling with. Not that she’d say a subject was useless while he was within earshot.
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Domestic Servant/Bootlegger
Neutral
Heterosexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
Twenty-eight years old
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Andie
Offline
EST (GMT -5)
Tag me @andie
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Post by Andrea Irene Brennan on Dec 3, 2014 18:47:22 GMT -6
When it came to how Andrea Brennan lived her life, there was really only one rule: Christian came first. It had been that way from the moment his grandmother and the midwife had handed her the bundle of blankets, and Andie’d held her son in her arms for the very first time – a sixteen-year old girl, a child herself. Maybe it had been that way even before that, when she’d felt the little kicks and the thump thump against the skin of her stomach, as she laid on her grandparents’ couch, staring up at the ceiling in the dead of night. It had never mattered that her baby’d come out with skin a different color, or that his eyes were a slightly different shape – he was hers, and she was his. Not all mothers had that instinct, she knew, but Andie’d had them from the second her first sibling had been born, and to sacrifice everything for the little boy she loved and cherished above all else? It was only natural.
Which was why she was so flustered and flabbergasted that her son had come out into the dangerous cold and dark, looking for her. From day one, Andie had made it her sole duty to take care of him. It was not Christian’s job to look after her, to come looking for her or to try and bring her home when she’d been out for too long. It wasn’t his job to feed her, or stay up for her – hell, he shouldn’t even have had to worry about making money, working his paper route in this freezing cold weather just to make a few extra dollars here and there. It brought him more trouble than it was worth, in her opinion, but she knew her son had a stubborn streak almost as bad as hers. So, in the end, she knew convincing him to simply come home every day and to stay safe was just out of the question.
Andie pushed and motherhenned her son back into their little apartment, ignoring his protests despite the fact that each one broke her heart the tiniest bit inside. In her heart of hearts, she knew he was only worried about her. But damn it, she had to get that out of him – the very second he was hurt because of… She sighed – there was no use getting worked up over it, especially when she knew that the sight of her upset would only have a negative effect on the baby boy she cherished so.
As soon as she’d shut the door, Andie turned around to find her son looking up at her with those damned puppy eyes of his, looking completely ashamed of himself, and she sighed, running a hand through her hair. It was true, she didn’t know who his father was, didn’t remember his conception, but he sure as hell must have been one suave mac. Because she knew that Christian didn’t get those charming little puppy eyes from her. Or maybe it was just because she had the inability to stay mad at him for more than five seconds. In her eyes, her son could virtually do no wrong, but that was also due to the fact that Christian hardly ever did any wrong. Not to mention, his words struck a guilty chord – she’d lied to him, even if it wasn’t intentional. ”That doesn’t mean I want you to come out looking for me, Christian, it’s dangerous out there at night. If something’d happened to you, what would I have done, hm? Answer me that.”
That all being said, it was clear from the exhausted slope of her shoulders and the way her eyes had a tired dreariness to them that Andie didn’t have the energy for any more chastising. And yet, as she slipped her coat off and hung it up on a rusty coat-hanger, it was very clear that she still at least had the energy to be a mother, for lack of a better term. ”Come here, sweetheart, let’s get this winter gear off. And get you into bed. You have school tomorrow, don’t you?” The only reason she asked, honestly, was simply because Andie didn’t even know what day of the week it was. She was that tired, that… out of it. Despite her previous harshness, her voice was gentle, as she gestured for her son to come to her, and she smoothly turned him around so she could tug the coat from his shoulders and help pull his boots off. He might not have needed it, being twelve years old, but… well, call her a mother-hen.
”Christian,” she finally said, voice soft, as she finally hung up his coat and tiredly nudged his boots into place by the door (and then proceeded to lock it, the only security they really had around here), ”Just promise me you won’t do something so stupid again. I didn’t raise you to be a sap, understand me?”
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Domestic Servant/Bootlegger
Neutral
Heterosexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
Twenty-eight years old
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Andie
Offline
EST (GMT -5)
Tag me @andie
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Post by Andrea Irene Brennan on Dec 1, 2014 10:48:10 GMT -6
Let's gET SOME PLOTS GOING, YEH? *starts perusing my list of charries* Also, my upcoming character might bring up some more plots, and other ideas might strike me, so this is a very in-the-moment, preliminary hook in da water~ So let's think...
@patriciafitzgerald and Andrea Irene Brennan
[/i] sure how these two might have come across each other, but I think fellow Irish-folk need to know each other and be frands, somehow. I know a lot of folks wanna plot friendship, but maybe we can try and make this one a lil unique, somehow~ Maybe. Idk. xD Andie's a few years older than Paddy here, and given from what I recall from her bio, I think Andie might represent exactly what happens when Paddy's worst fear befalls someone - being forced to have a family to think of before you're ready. Andie is a single mother at twenty-eight, with a twelve-year old son that's biracial on top of everything else. But she's also hardy and fierce and pretty sassy and maybe that's the Irish in her (;D), so in a way, she might also be someone Paddy admires too. If she's genuinely kind to Andie, or better yet, Andie's son, I could see Andie having a soft spot for her. So if she ever needs refuge, Andie would host her as hospitably as she could, despite the fact she and her son are pretty poor and don't have the best living arrangements. The idea I have for a meeting, potentially, is that Andie got caught up in a protest-turned-almost-riot. She bustles around the city, and while she believes in feminism and being equal, she's somewhat pessimistic and also is one of those people who thinks herself too busy to get caught up in other peoples' issues so she keeps to herself. So if she got caught in a protest, it would be entirely by accident, like she was just trying to get home. And maybe she got hurt, like elbowed and ended up falling and twisting an ankle, or something, in front of Paddy - and if Paddy is gifted with healing magic specifically, maybe she helped Andie out. And not only would Andie be grudgingly grateful, she'd also be very intrigued. She had to drop out of Warren when she had Christian, but had a knack for healing, herself. So yeh~ My long rambly idea. OnTO THE NEXT ONE.[/ul] @patriciafitzgerald and Rafael Herman Thomas@patriciafitzgerald and Talon Nathaniel Monroe[/blockquote]
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Domestic Servant/Bootlegger
Neutral
Heterosexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
Twenty-eight years old
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Andie
Offline
EST (GMT -5)
Tag me @andie
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Post by Andrea Irene Brennan on Dec 1, 2014 9:59:58 GMT -6
A'ight, frand! Let's see what we can get plotted out hurr, yeh? I think I've got an idea, to try and get some stuff set up with chus~ (I have other characters coming, ideas that might pop up later, so think of this as an introductory plot!~) @satanicwarrior and Andrea Irene Brennan[/i], perhaps, they have a mutual need for each other. Business-wise. If Alarick serves alcohol in this lil' club of his, he might need a source, yeh? Now, he's in Greenwich, so maybe he gets alcohol from Cesare, so maybe he doesn't need it, but if he wants a little on the side, or maybe Andie just has better prices, not sure~ We could figure it out if we wanted to do this! The way I imagine it, right now, is that they just have this business arrangement that she sells him liquor for cheap, but they don't like each other at all. So, maybe, if the chance pops up in a plot down the line for one of them to screw the other over, they'll take it. To cause dramaz~ But this is all only if you want it! Or if Alarick even has interest in alcohol, tbh. If not, maybe we can figure something else out. ;D[/ul]
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Domestic Servant/Bootlegger
Neutral
Heterosexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
Twenty-eight years old
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Andie
Offline
EST (GMT -5)
Tag me @andie
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Post by Andrea Irene Brennan on Nov 19, 2014 23:40:29 GMT -6
TABITHA "TABBY" MONROE TWENTY-ONE | MUGGLEBORN | TALON'S SISTER Occupation up to player! FC: Nicole Beharie ABOUT So! This is Tabitha, more affectionately known as "Tabby," Monroe. The character I'm requesting this for is Talon Monroe, as he's in need of his little sister! While there's of course detailed information in his app which you can feel free to view, here's a basic overview:
Her personality and occupation, and where she's been is all entirely up to you! But the story with her is that, well, she and Talon were actually exceedingly close when they were kids. Talon is her older brother by two years, and when they were younger, they were totally inseparable, until it turned out that Tabby was a witch. At that point, the pair just naturally began to grow apart, and everything completely came down around their ears when, one night, their parents were murdered by a mob of white supremacists. (Check Talon's history for more details.) He fled with Tabby, though she wanted to stay and help them, and when they came back to the house to find their parents murdered, Tabitha was absolutely furious, and claimed that she blamed Talon for everything. And in her rage, she ran away while Talon went to go and call for help. And the pair of them haven't seen each other since. If she came back to the house to find him gone, or no, that's entirely up to you. Where she's been, what she's done, if she finished her education at Warren, that's all up to you! Like I said, she's pretty open, but I'd like for her to make a reappearance back into Talon's life.
And I dun bite! Just to give you a quick recap on Talon, he's a twenty-three year old cop that lives alone (for now) that does his best to be a good cop. He's honest and kind, but fierce when the time calls for it. And he loved his sister dearly, though seeing her after all these years would bring up... mixed emotions - though, of course, I definitely think he would end up forgiving her and wanting her to stick back around, as he's missed her so much.ROSALYNN ____ ______ TWENTY-ONE | HALFBLOOD | LOVE INTEREST FOR RAFAEL Politician's Daughter ABOUT Ah yiss, all the feels. Harp likes herself a bit of romance, and I don't want Rafael to be alone forever! (Just for a while. ;D) If you want to know what exactly you're signing up for, check out the complete angst-bucket profile here~ Rafael Herman Thomas. ^-^ He's an ex-werewolf fighter turned bodyguard, and here's what I have in mind~
Meet Rosalynn (also known as "Rose," though I'm willing to budge on the name as I also have some others in mind in case you don't like those~), the eldest daughter of a New York state legislator, and Rafael's future charge. Her father, a protective and reasonable man, is looking for a bodyguard, and stumbles upon Rafy. Hires him, despite his condition (like I said, a reasonable man!), and Rafy becomes one of the bodyguards for this politician's two daughters, but the one he mainly interacts with is Rose. And here's basically what I... would like for him to find. She's kind, somewhat gentle, but she has a sassy side to her with people that know her well enough. And with all this... well, I don't want her to be helpless. Maybe she's a bamf duelist, or she knows how to throw a punch, idk, you pick! Just so that, at some point, it turns out she can sort of take care of herself.
I don't want this to be love right away, I'm all about the build-up and then the explosion of feels, and I'll say that I'm going to be... watching anyone who wants to take this up very closely~ I'd like to say here and now that I reserve the right to tell someone no if I'm not entirely comfortable with where they want to take the character, or if I'm uncomfortable with whomever's taking it. Which makes me sound awful, I knows, but I am rather protective of my werewolf angst-bucket. So! Her personality is the main thing I would want to keep an eye on, as far as history goes, she's all yours~
NOTE - The only thing concrete about her history that you'd need is that she at least has one younger sister (whom Sara will play, I believe, so you get to plot with TWO people instead of just one. ;D More details coming soon about that 'cause iDK.)
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Domestic Servant/Bootlegger
Neutral
Heterosexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
Twenty-eight years old
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Andie
Offline
EST (GMT -5)
Tag me @andie
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Post by Andrea Irene Brennan on Nov 17, 2014 1:45:59 GMT -6
ANDREA IRENE BRENNAN TWENTY-EIGHT | HALFBLOOD | SINGLE MOTHER Domestic Servant and Bootlegger ABOUT Meet Andrea Brennan. A twenty-eight year old domestic servant, currently looking for work, who also happens to sell bootleg alcohol out of her basement. But don't tell her son, Christian. Which brings about a whole other realm of things about Andie (as she is casually called by anyone blessed enough to be on a first-name basis with her). You see, she's twenty-eight, unmarried, and happens to have a twelve-year old boy that she named Christian Seth Brennan. And he's, basically, her entire world. Everything she's done? Has been for this adorable soul. He was conceived when she was fifteen, and born shortly after her sixteenth birthday. Where he came from, or rather how he was conceived, is something that she doesn't talk about, though honestly she doesn't talk about herself that often. If you wanna read up on her, you can check here, for her bio!
As far as friends go, well, Andie could use those. She might not have many, given her schedule, but I'll give you a hint: if she can trust you with her son, she'll trust you - maybe even like you. But she isn't all that easy to impress. She hasn't had a life of easy knocks.
Which almost pulls us into enemy territory. Threaten her son? Threaten her? You have yourself an enemy, but don't think she's the sort of woman who loses it or rants and raves. In fact, Andie tends to act cool and distant - the more distant and snippier she is with someone, the more of a sign it is that she doesn't like them. It's only the people who really piss her off that see the fiery side of her, even if it's always there as an undertone.
As far as romance is concerned, though? Andie's main focus is her son. And her one experience with the male species, though she doesn't remember it, isn't exactly something she'll boast about. So, all in all, she can be a tough cookie to crack, but don't think that there isn't potential affection underneath that shell. After all, her son sees that side of her every single day. She is also reserved romantically for a future ship.
LISTED RELATIONSHIPS @christian - SonTALON NATHANIEL MONROE TWENTY-THREE | MUGGLE | NOBLE DEFENDER Police Officer ABOUT And this is Talon Monroe. He's actually one of the few honest cops you'll find around New York City, and also possibly one of the only ones with dark skin. Talon is devoted to his job, and to helping people, protecting those who need protected - because once, he needed protecting, and there was nobody there. And maybe, just maybe, if he'd been strong enough then, he would have been able to protect his family himself. Though, that's getting into darker territory, delving into memories and thoughts that Talon feels would be best left forgotten. Basically, he's a twenty-three year old African-American police officer. He doesn't really have a family, though he has a sister floating around the world somewhere that he hasn't spoken to in almost ten years. He lives on his own in a tiny house in Brooklyn. Want more info on this noble soul? Read up about him here.
So, then what friends, eh? Talon is a pretty friendly guy, he's all smiles and gentle kindness on the streets as well as on the job, so he isn't difficult to get along with in the least. However, while he's kind and sweet, there are probably only going to be a few people whom he counts as good friends, if only because he's fairly sure his skin color would drive most people away.
When it comes to enemies, though? This is a man who learned the hard way, what happens when you make powerful enemies. So, for the most part, he just tries to keep his head down, but being an honest cop genuinely trying to crack down on wrong doings in such a heavily mafia-populated urban city? Probably will earn his stripes somewhere down that road.
Though, romance-wise, Talon tends to stay away from all that, simply because he's fairly sure his skin color and lifestyle would make it impossible for any woman to want to be with him long-term. He too is also reserved for this down the road.
LISTED RELATIONSHIPS N/AADELAIDE ROSE MONTAGUE TWENTY | PUREBLOOD | INDEPENDENT BEAUTY Daughter of the Tribeca Don ABOUT And now we get to Adelaide Montague, more affectionately known as Addie to anyone who knows her for more than five minutes. She is one half of the the infamous Tribeca Twins, her twin sister Alexandra, or Allie, being the other. She's twenty and has a rather intelligent and scheming personality, with an air of authority about her that's all her own. See, Addie's wealthy, and being the daughter of a don certainly has its perks, so she can also be something of a spoiled brat, too, though it doesn't always dominate her personality. She does have a good heart, and wants to look out for her loved ones, and she also likes watching out for the big picture, but that doesn't mean she isn't selfish sometimes, or doesn't have her flaws. She currently does her best to follow in her father's footsteps, and can often be found touring speak-easies (either with her father or without him) alongside her twin sister. Want some more information? Read her bio, located here.
In terms of friends, well, if you're not a part of upper society, chances are she either wouldn't know you, or wouldn't pay attention. In a way, she feels as though the only friend she needs is her sister, but that doesn't mean she can't be persuaded into thinking otherwise. Besides, she does have a good soul, she just... can be a little spoiled sometimes.
With enemies, though, she may have more of these than she counted on. Addie, as I said, can be spoiled and manipulative. Where she might have good intentions, sometimes she has the tendency to ruthlessly screw people over, or sneer at anyone she finds beneath her. So, her attitude might very well end up providing her with enemies along the road. Especially of those in other factions.
As far as love goes, however, Addie tries not to think about it. Her father consistently hints that she and her sister will get married off someday, so any romance or lovers she may have... Addie knows that they're more than likely temporary. So why go through the heartache, or deal with her overprotective family? Addie is reserved for future lovesies.
LISTED RELATIONSHIPS Alexandra Catherine Montague - Twin SisterRAFAEL HERMAN THOMAS TWENTY-FIVE | WEREWOLF | WOUNDED ALPHA Bodyguard for Hire and Former Werewolf Fighter ABOUT Coming soon, my lurvs, but be rest-assured that he is an angst-bucket with a wanted ad to follow.
LISTED RELATIONSHIPS N/A
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Domestic Servant/Bootlegger
Neutral
Heterosexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
Twenty-eight years old
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Andie
Offline
EST (GMT -5)
Tag me @andie
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Post by Andrea Irene Brennan on Nov 16, 2014 18:17:19 GMT -6
One of the problems with being a bootlegger, it would seem, was that just about every damned customer wanted to get their shipment at night. Andrea Brennan halfway understood it, the whole “under the cover of darkness” bit, but didn’t any of them understand just how inconvenient this all was? For a single mother, only twenty-eight, with seventeen dollars in her pocket, with no weapon on her besides a sharp gaze and tongue, well. It could be a little nerve-wracking, and Andie wasn’t one of those women who scared easy.
Now, that wasn’t to say that she was walking down the streets of New York City in tears, shaking and quivering like some useless dame while she maneuvered her way back to Queens. It was dark out, yes, and quiet, which made Andie nervous, but with her it was always the little things. The way she had her ragged coat pulled tightly around her, and kept trying to tug it ever closer. How she glanced over her shoulder and down the alleyways every few seconds, and how she picked up her pace with every passing moment. It was a long way from her last customer to her little apartment – even walking from the fringes of Brooklyn to the heart of Queens was a large feat. Her last customer, some drunkard that needed a source to feed his vice, had offered to call a cab for her, but in her stubborn pride, Andie had refused, opting to walk home in the cold rather than letting anyone have the illusion that she either owed them something, or simply because she didn’t want anyone else taking care of her. So maybe her nervousness was her own fault. But Andie had never been one to overthink her own faults.
Andie was nervous, but she wasn’t afraid, and one of the reasons she was hurrying so fervently was simply because she knew it was late, and there was someone at home that she needed to check on, and make sure that he wasn’t worrying too much. The young Irishwoman hadn’t been home just about all day. While she didn’t have a job, she’d managed to get a quick cleaning gig earlier in the day, taking two dollars from a businessman that was in something of a hurry to clean up a horrible mess before his wife got home from holiday with her brother. (Andie hadn’t asked questions – someone was offering her money to clean, and quite frankly beyond that it wasn’t any of her business.) From there, she had dashed home for a few minutes to gather up the four bottles of liquor that she was meant to deliver around the city to customers that had found her through one way or another, but her son hadn’t returned home from his paper route yet. She’d left as soon as possible so that she might be home as soon as possible.
But, well. Clearly that plan had gone awry.
Damn it. Andie continued to curse in her head, hoping against hope that Christian’d had the sense to make himself dinner, or heat up what little leftovers they had. If he’d starved himself out of worry, or hadn’t had the thought to feed himself… ”Shite,” she hissed to nobody, the slightest Irish lilt to her voice that she’d all but gotten from her grandparents. Christian had a bad habit of not taking care of himself when he felt that others needed to be taken care of, and maybe he’d gotten that from her, and if he had, she hated it. Because it was her job to take care of him, not the other way around.
Speaking of Christian – Andie probably should have been paying closer attention. She hadn’t realized how close she was getting, and in her panic over her son’s well-being, her guard had gone down a relatively large amount, and so she wasn’t quite as in tune with her surroundings as she had been a moment ago. Which entirely explained why, when someone darted out in front of her (a small someone, too) and slammed into her, a surprised shriek escaped her – one that lasted only for a split second. It cut short the second she realized who it was that had their arms around her, and that they weren’t trying to mug or murder her, and immediately, the twenty-eight year old relaxed. But only marginally, considering…
”Christian Seth Brennan,” she snapped, pushing the boy back to look him over and gritting her teeth as she did so. What the hell did he think he was doing? ”What the hell do you think you’re doing? What kind of sap are you, coming out here alone this late at night, when there might be hoodlums around? Do you think I want you getting hurt?” An exasperated sigh escaped her as she immediately began ushering him back in the direction of their home – she could lecture him once they were safely inside and off the streets. It hadn’t occurred to her just how close they were to their home, and she had her hands firmly on her son’s shoulders, steering him towards their apartment. ”Get inside, come on,” she told him sharply, looking around over her shoulder to make sure that nobody was following them, or that they hadn’t attracted any negative attention.
Once they were safely inside, she turned and gave her son a very disapproving look. While she could never be truly angry with Christian (she was sure that it was physically impossible, by this point), there were times when she came close, and this could count as one of them. ”Now what were you doing out there, acting like some dumb owl?”
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Domestic Servant/Bootlegger
Neutral
Heterosexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
Twenty-eight years old
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Andie
Offline
EST (GMT -5)
Tag me @andie
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Post by Andrea Irene Brennan on Nov 11, 2014 1:38:55 GMT -6
Unemployment did not suit Andrea Brennan.
It honestly wasn’t even the lack of money, as stressful as that could be with a boy in school that constantly needed feeding. It wasn’t even the constant interviews, seeking out potential employment, just to have doors slammed in her face because nobody ”wants a god-damn Irish quiff working in a perfectly good household.” Andie had been expecting that from childhood, especially after she’d had her son. Nobody wanted to hire an Irishwoman – the Brennan on the end of her name was as good as a neon ‘X’ flashing over her head. But the second anyone found that she was unmarried at twenty-eight, with a son? It might have been 1920, but when it came to certain communities, and the way people looked at her in particular, well. She might as well have been a prostitute trying to sell herself on peoples’ front doorsteps. No, it really wasn’t any of that. Andie was adaptable, she’d learned to cope, to deal, and to find the sustenance for her boy that he needed one way or another.
No, it was really the inability to do anything for a majority of the day. Without work to keep her busy, wandering the streets could only do so much to satisfy her itch to be doing something productive. Maybe it was because she had all but been raised by grandparents and parents that had always been working, always doing things for the family, and in a sense, Andie wanted to do the same – she felt worthless otherwise. Useless. Being idle forced sleepless nights upon her, and the dark rings under her eyes were only additional negative factors when she showed up looking for work on peoples’ doorsteps. Powder only helped so much, and by this point in the day, it had worn and rubbed off, and after the third door slammed in her face, Andie had opted to give up for the day.
And yet, she hadn’t wanted to go home. She’d already furiously cleaned and scrubbed everything she could that morning, after Christian had left and gone off to school. She’d locked the basement door, just in case Christian was going to get home early from his paper route, to make sure her son wouldn’t stumble upon the fermenting alcohol currently brewing in the tiny room beneath their ground-floor apartment where she also did their laundry. There was nothing to be done for that particular side-business, not until tonight, long after Christian had gone to bed. So, for the time being, she was stuck, which was entirely how she’d ended up sitting on some seemingly abandoned crates on the side of the street, resting only for a moment before starting the long trek home, a newspaper in her hand as she perused more locations to scout for jobs tomorrow.
Not that there were many. The glaring “no Irish need apply”on half the damn ads really lowered her prospects, not that they were high to begin with, but still, Andie looked. There might be more tomorrow, more chances to take, but until then, she was helpless. She would have to trudge home soon, hopefully in time to settle in before Christian got home so she could make him dinner, eat the leftovers herself if there were any (she was always careful to tell her son that she’d eaten before, if there wasn’t enough for both of them).
In reality, Andie’s entire life revolved around him, around her loving son Christian. From the moment he’d been born, everything that she had done, for better or worse, had been for him. To protect him, take care of him… in some ways, Andie wondered if all mothers instinctively felt so protective or caring over their children, or if it all came down to the fact that, when he was born, he had been all she’d had, besides her grandparents. The only person that loved her unconditionally, and maybe that was selfish, but she did her damnedest to make up for that selfishness by trying to make sure her son wanted for nothing. Even if in reality… she knew that was virtually impossible. They lived in a world of prejudice, of sneers and jeers and insults, and in a way, Andie and Christian were victims in their own individual spheres, and Andie hated that she had subjected him to such hardships simply because of her irresponsibility when she was only fifteen. Though, if she hadn’t been irresponsible, she never would have had her son, and that was something she wouldn’t trade for the world.
Oh, yes, Andrea Brennan was very much a mother. An unemployed mother looking for a job to feed her child, even if she had profits flooding her basement from a homemade and magically-run distillery. Not that anyone had to know about that last part, given that if they did, it would likely earn her a one-way ticket to prison. And that, in and of itself was something she could not afford. So she sat there, looking at the newspaper and perched casually on the crates as if she belonged there, until she suddenly felt a presence hovering over her. Without looking up, she said almost casually,
”It’s rather rude to stand there like a bimbo, if you’re going to talk to me, might as well get it over with or beat it.” TAGS Open! NOTES Andie's first post! Yay!
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