Post by Liam O'Donnell on Aug 6, 2011 18:42:28 GMT -8
September 25th, 2011
1130 p.m.
If April's showers bring May flowers...then what exactly does September's rain bring? October's dull and dreary? Liam watched the earth get pummeled by the tears of the sky. Water was falling faster than the earth could catch, its drops beating on rooftops like drums to march to war. The cobbles were shimmering in the rain, the streets were lightly flooded as it struggled to catch up with the pace of the storm. However, because of this, the walkways outside were emptied, stores next to and across the street were shut down and this meant that the Abby was closed for the night. Liam was idly wiping down the bar counter with the same old, worn cloth he used every day. He usually admired his wedding band, or his bustling business with honest and hardworking employees...but this time, he was staring listlessly along the outline of the crimson stain on his tiled floor. The Abby had seen its first and only homicide to date; the young Stana Chastaine, who was his bubbly, eager and selfless tavern maid was found murdered here just a couple months ago.
The Abby hadn't been the same ever since.
Sure, his regular patrons like Mrs. Greyfield or Mr. Hattick or even Miss Solaris would show up from time to time, but there was now a dark vibe that hovered over his humble tavern. It was sad to discover that no matter how much he scrubbed...and scrubbed...and bleached...and scrubbed, Liam was unable to wipe the memory of the gruesome sight of that poor young girl lying dead in his tavern. As he continued to wipe down this counter relentlessly, the weary bartender sighed and couldn't help but recall a visit he was paid shortly after Miss Chastaine's body was discovered...two of the Abby's regular, high-profile patrons of his true "world" came to exchange words. Not with one another, however.
With Liam, himself...
July 29th, 2011
246 a.m.
"It will be okay."
"But Stana--"
Liam eyed the boy as he brought up the name of the late tavernmaid, turning five shades of red and about fifty tons of angry. Stana's name was hardly spoken these days. He wouldn't let anyone take her name in vain. He found himself extremely protective over someone who reminded him so much of his sister, and even of his girlfriend; so innocent, so sweet and charming.
Oleg, the young boy who was just hired before the incedent, was worried that he would be next. As foolish as this thought was, Liam humored the boy by walking him to the door, to make sure he was safe to make a break for wherever it was he was off to. The reason why this was foolish, though, was because Liam knew that this was a doing by someone not of this world. He knew that the boy Oleg who was bussing his tables to save money for a new wheelchair for his muggle mother had no knowledge of the world Liam or Stana truly lived in, nor did he have any interest. He was simply being human...a worried, troublesome, scatterbrained human.
He sighed heavily as he watched the boy off, stealing away into the rain. It was light rain, and it was only because lightning crashed at that very time that Liam was able to see him scramble around the corner towards the train station. Flipping the sign to CLOSED and turning the two deadbolts in the door, Liam threw the dirty towel he used to wipe down most of the tables over his left shoulder and started towards the bar counter. He braced himself at the edge, his big, hazel eyes glowing as they came across the moving picture on the front page of the Prophet sitting in plain sight, propped neatly where he usually stood to tend the bar. The headline: DEATH IN THE MUGGLE WORLD CAUSES A STIR ...
Liam grunted to himself, fighting the biggest urge to turn and look where the young one once lie, then shortly after beneath a white and bloodied sheet, with cameras from various periodicals, magical and muggle, squeezing in to try to taste the juicy story that was unraveling in his once quiet tavern. He balled his fist, and slammed it down on the hard wood counter, trying to release some of this frustration. It seemed like this bollocks never ended; cameras, tabloids, gossip, disrespect. Liam hated that poor Stana was going through this, even in the afterlife.
"Who would do this to you?" He put his head in his hands, nearly tearing out his hair for all of this. If she wasn't from the magical realm, if she wasn't so caring and sweet, if she wasn't so close to him...maybe he would be simply bothered. Liam was torn, upset, depressed, confused, worried...He was not expecting what was to come of this already stressful evening.
1130 p.m.
If April's showers bring May flowers...then what exactly does September's rain bring? October's dull and dreary? Liam watched the earth get pummeled by the tears of the sky. Water was falling faster than the earth could catch, its drops beating on rooftops like drums to march to war. The cobbles were shimmering in the rain, the streets were lightly flooded as it struggled to catch up with the pace of the storm. However, because of this, the walkways outside were emptied, stores next to and across the street were shut down and this meant that the Abby was closed for the night. Liam was idly wiping down the bar counter with the same old, worn cloth he used every day. He usually admired his wedding band, or his bustling business with honest and hardworking employees...but this time, he was staring listlessly along the outline of the crimson stain on his tiled floor. The Abby had seen its first and only homicide to date; the young Stana Chastaine, who was his bubbly, eager and selfless tavern maid was found murdered here just a couple months ago.
The Abby hadn't been the same ever since.
Sure, his regular patrons like Mrs. Greyfield or Mr. Hattick or even Miss Solaris would show up from time to time, but there was now a dark vibe that hovered over his humble tavern. It was sad to discover that no matter how much he scrubbed...and scrubbed...and bleached...and scrubbed, Liam was unable to wipe the memory of the gruesome sight of that poor young girl lying dead in his tavern. As he continued to wipe down this counter relentlessly, the weary bartender sighed and couldn't help but recall a visit he was paid shortly after Miss Chastaine's body was discovered...two of the Abby's regular, high-profile patrons of his true "world" came to exchange words. Not with one another, however.
With Liam, himself...
July 29th, 2011
246 a.m.
"It will be okay."
"But Stana--"
Liam eyed the boy as he brought up the name of the late tavernmaid, turning five shades of red and about fifty tons of angry. Stana's name was hardly spoken these days. He wouldn't let anyone take her name in vain. He found himself extremely protective over someone who reminded him so much of his sister, and even of his girlfriend; so innocent, so sweet and charming.
Oleg, the young boy who was just hired before the incedent, was worried that he would be next. As foolish as this thought was, Liam humored the boy by walking him to the door, to make sure he was safe to make a break for wherever it was he was off to. The reason why this was foolish, though, was because Liam knew that this was a doing by someone not of this world. He knew that the boy Oleg who was bussing his tables to save money for a new wheelchair for his muggle mother had no knowledge of the world Liam or Stana truly lived in, nor did he have any interest. He was simply being human...a worried, troublesome, scatterbrained human.
He sighed heavily as he watched the boy off, stealing away into the rain. It was light rain, and it was only because lightning crashed at that very time that Liam was able to see him scramble around the corner towards the train station. Flipping the sign to CLOSED and turning the two deadbolts in the door, Liam threw the dirty towel he used to wipe down most of the tables over his left shoulder and started towards the bar counter. He braced himself at the edge, his big, hazel eyes glowing as they came across the moving picture on the front page of the Prophet sitting in plain sight, propped neatly where he usually stood to tend the bar. The headline: DEATH IN THE MUGGLE WORLD CAUSES A STIR ...
Liam grunted to himself, fighting the biggest urge to turn and look where the young one once lie, then shortly after beneath a white and bloodied sheet, with cameras from various periodicals, magical and muggle, squeezing in to try to taste the juicy story that was unraveling in his once quiet tavern. He balled his fist, and slammed it down on the hard wood counter, trying to release some of this frustration. It seemed like this bollocks never ended; cameras, tabloids, gossip, disrespect. Liam hated that poor Stana was going through this, even in the afterlife.
"Who would do this to you?" He put his head in his hands, nearly tearing out his hair for all of this. If she wasn't from the magical realm, if she wasn't so caring and sweet, if she wasn't so close to him...maybe he would be simply bothered. Liam was torn, upset, depressed, confused, worried...He was not expecting what was to come of this already stressful evening.