| Elijah, Adam, Parker (Backdated to when Elijah was first taken) |
[Feb. 21st, 2010|11:25 pm] |
Elijah had been living on his own for a little over a year, and he had nestled himself into a very comfortable routine. He lived in a tiny little apartment alone, and he didn't need much. He went to college at the same time every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning. He went home at the same time every day afterwards for two hours, then went to work at a local music shop until close. He went to the grocery store every Tuesday at noon. Every Tuesday and Thursday he went to practice for the local orchestra that he was a part of, and every Saturday he taught three different boys violin lessons on the side. Sundays were his quiet days and he just stayed in at home.
It was a Saturday evening, and after his last student Elijah went home and let himself into his tiny apartment. He closed the door up behind him and locked it like always, then he went to go put his violin down on the table. He knew his way around his place like the back of his hand and if anyone who didn't really know him ever saw him in his own environment, they would never guess that he was blind if they couldn't see the way his eyes never seemed to focus on one thing.
He turned the TV on just for background noise, and there was a report on the news about a young violinist close to Elijah's age who had been attacked in his home a month prior. Elijah had heard the story before, and he just switched the channel to some music and went to go fix himself something to eat for dinner. |
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| liam, reagan, backdated |
[Jan. 7th, 2010|12:52 am] |
Though Reagan had only visited Liam a handful of times, it was definitely one of his most favorite things to do. He liked all of the art in Liam's home, and most of all, he liked the man's bed - especially when Liam was in it with him.
Being a successful artist gave Reagan the freedom to spend weeks at a time in Virginia if he really wanted to, and sometimes weekend visits would turn into a few instead of just one, but Liam never seemed to mind. Of course there were times when Reagan spent most of the night alone if Liam had to work late, but he looked forward to the morning when he'd find Liam curled up beside him after having snuck into bed with him. If a case took Liam out of town, Reagan could simply head back to New York for a while and settle back into the art circuit for a bit.
At the moment, Reagan was settled on Liam's couch with a bowl of chocolate icecream positioned on his chest while he watched the History Channel. He and Liam were suppose to go out to dinner, but a late night at the office prevented it, and Reagan had ordered pizza and was now just waiting for Liam to get home. When he heard the door and Liam entering the security code, he almost got up but the sound of Chancellor's voice kept him put for the moment. Sometimes the two men rode together, and while Chancellor was always very nice, there was something about him that made Reagan a little insecure at times. |
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| To Callaway, Backdated |
[Jan. 4th, 2010|01:12 pm] |
"Are you sure I can't talk to him?" Parker said, clutching his manuscript to his chest. The publishing company had sent it back with a rejection letter and this was the last one Parker was going to take sitting down. He hadn't ever thought of getting an agent to do this sort of thing. All he knew about the writing industry was that he wanted in and damn if these people didn't tell him why his work wasn't good enough to get published when things like Twilight were being printed.
"No, Mr. Reigh. Mr. Sanders is in a meeting right now and even if he wasn't, it isn't likely that he would be able to take your request. He's very busy. Please, resubmit your manuscript at a later time." The woman was used to dealing with desperate writers who had been recently rejected by the company. Parker grit his teeth together and could hardly keep from slamming the stack of papers and the deceptively blithe manila envelope in which they'd sent his rejection down on the desk. He stood there, refusing to leave and the receptionist looked up at him blankly, stubbornly as their stand off began. |
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| elijah, murphy (backdated to about a month after murphy was taken) |
[Dec. 12th, 2009|10:26 pm] |
Usually Adam kept Parker in the middle of Elijah and Murphy, but probably as en effort to make Murphy feel as if he belonged and to hopefully form some sort of a bond with Elijah, he'd put Murphy in between Elijah and Parker. It was the first time that Elijah had ever been moved, and it felt strangely exhilerating to be in a new area, even if it was the same old basement.
Elijah was infinitely curious about the newest boy, and he'd been bombarding Parker with all sorts of questions. The first month Adam had kept Murphy scarce because of his asthma, and the last week Murphy had been sort of out of it since he'd tried to run away. Running away was always something that Elijah thought about trying, but he was too afraid. Parker had told him that they were in the middle of nowhere, and with Elijah being blind, running wasn't an option.
Murphy had been asleep while Adam helped Elijah move his things to the next cell over, and Elijah listened with rapt attention while Adam moved Murphy's things over. After that, he'd taken Murphy upstairs for a while, and left Elijah and Parker alone. After talking Parker into telling him a story, Elijah had curled up on his bed and drifted off to sleep. When he wokeup, Parker was now upstairs, and Murphy was back in the basement. Elijah could tell that Murphy was back because his breathing sounded a little different than Parker's, and he could tell that Parker was gone because he couldn't hear his breathing at all. Being blind, Elijah had a rather acute sense of hearing.
He scooted to the edge of his bed and let his feet dangle over the edge. He was wearing a pair of navy button up pajamas. Adam put everything of one color in the same drawer so that Elijah would always match because the boy was self concious about looking ridiculous since he couldn't see himself and what he was putting on.
"Is Parker with Adam?" he asked after a moment, his voice quiet and uncertain. |
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| open to liam ( backdated to first time meeting! :D ) |
[Oct. 11th, 2009|11:06 pm] |
If someone had told Reagan Avery a year ago that he would be one of New York's most wanted up and coming artists, he simply would not have believed them. A year ago, he was barely scraping by, and things had been so tough that he'd nearly packed up and headed back home to Texas. Now he was glad that he hadn't given up, not that he really would have. Reagan had always been a fighter. And now, not only was he one of New York's most talked about artists, he was quickly being spoken of up and down all along the East Coast. It was insanity. His shows had gained slow momentum, but steadily he'd been making more and more sales. For more money than he'd bargained for, too.
Tonight, his friend was sure, would be the night that Reagan had a sold out show, where every single piece was bought, and nothing would be left. Reagan, of course, didn't think that was possible, but as the red dots started to show up on every painting he was wondering if he'd be eating his words.
Dressed in a pair of navy pinstriped slacks with a matching vest over a pale blue long sleeved dress shirt, he stood off to the side by one of the windows as he sipped at his wine and gazed about the place. He smoothed a hand gently down along his tie, looking terribly professional until you got down to his shoes... Which were navy chuck taylor's. But that was just Reagan.
His gaze swept about the place curiously, trying to read the expression on everyone's face when his eyes locked with a man across the room. A very beautiful man at that, who surely wasn't from New York. It wasn't that he looked out of place, no, it was just that he looked... different than everyone else. Moved different. Felt different. Reagan hadn't ever seen him before, and knowing his luck, he never would after tonight. The mystery man was probably visiting New York on business, and then he'd be gone, never to be seen again, and Reagan would paint him and wonder about what his name was and dream that they'd spoken. There was an instant connection that he couldn't describe, and he felt deep down that this was someone he would move for, move to be with. New York was tired, anyway. He could always fly back when needed. The train of thoughts were absolutely ridiculous, especially since they hadn't even spoken and not to mention Reagan didn't even have a clue as to if the man was straight or not. |
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