Post by Gabbi McGinn on Feb 19, 2008 17:43:44 GMT -5
[[Open--and I'll be playing her brother for the duration of the thread, if you/your character wishes to play with him xP]]
Gabbi was walking toward the cemetery where her youngest brother and mother were currently residing, and would be for the rest of their afterlives. She was skirting the graveyard treacherously, warily. Her dirty fingers gripped the black bars surrounding the exempted space in the church yard and she walked slowly, one figure in her sight.
It was about eleven thirty on Sunday morning, when most people were still attending masses. Gabbi had attended the earlier mass, greeted old neighbors, spoken to the survivors of her formidable past. It was her first time back to the church in a long, long time. She'd returned to it's threshold when she first returned to New York, but was greeted with too much sorrow. Since then she'd returned several times, but enough so that she could count them on one hand. Christmas and Easter were musts, but sometimes she went to a more nearby church for mass.
But now there was a figure in her place-- her place-- and she was more than slightly befuddled. Licking her lips she patted out her clothing--not the nice blue dress, but a clean set of skirt and shirts reserved for masses-- and then entered the graveyard through the large, bolstered, cast-iron gates seeded in cement. She touched upon the tops of each grave stone separately, not wanting to approach this strange man who...really wasn't very strange.
Initially she'd been unsure about this person's placement. He could have been a sympathizer, but she wasn't so sure after a while. He seemed to have a personal connection with the graves, seeing as he'd spent copious amounts of time there. Upon drawing nearer she was able to make out three red roses and two blue flowers on each grave, both of which laid next to each other.
"'Scuse me, sir," she began after a period of discomfort. The boy turned around, looking unknowledgable.
Neither sibling recognized the other, initially. The boy stared back at her, blankly. "You...uh, well, I was wonderin if you'd move. Gotta pay me respects---" she paused, and shifted her weight.
The other boy looked at her tensely. "I'm not finished yet," he said. Gabbi didn't understand what was so important that it couldn't just...wait.
"Well, could ya hurry?" She asked, feeling impatient. He shrugged, "Gotta pay my respects to mother dearest," he commented, although he could honestly say it a lot more fondly than she could. But his fondness and tone weren't the sole focus of the sentence--it was the mother dearest part that got her.
"Mother?" she repeated, tilting her head. "Can't be." Patrick hadn't ever left Chicago. He told her he was going to stay there, and he had. He'd loved that city too much to just let it go. It had had the adverse effect on Gabbi, but apparently not so for him.
The denial seemed to fade for Patrick a lot faster than it had for Gabbi. "Have you forgotten me, Gabriella?" he asked, finally. Gabbi still looked wary, and felt like tackling the boy to the ground. Not out of joy, though, but rather out of anger.
"I aint forgotten you," she mumbled, gripping the gravestone more tightly. Her feet scuffed around in the dry summer's dirt. Grass was sparse and could not be watered efficiently here. There was no use anyway--not like the dead were watching anyway. "I jest aint too fond of you."
"Well, that's a pity, iddnt it?" He asked, grinning a bit. Gabbi didn't return the favor. His smile faded, and then he looked back at the gravestone. "What, no flowers?" he asked, and her frown turned to a look of embarrassment.
"I cant afford no flowers," she admitted, biting down on her lips.
"Not if your still talking like some back country fool," he said, arching an eyebrow. This, of course, didn't help her embarrassment. "You'd be more likely for work in a factory, or sewing, if you spoke more properly."
Gabbi cocked an eyebrow, mirroring her brother. "Your more stupid than I thought," she said, slowly, "They don't wanna hire educated girls. Educated women are like da devil if youse got a corporation. They want the ones that can't speak English good, if at all."
[[
Brother dear =)]]
Gabbi was walking toward the cemetery where her youngest brother and mother were currently residing, and would be for the rest of their afterlives. She was skirting the graveyard treacherously, warily. Her dirty fingers gripped the black bars surrounding the exempted space in the church yard and she walked slowly, one figure in her sight.
It was about eleven thirty on Sunday morning, when most people were still attending masses. Gabbi had attended the earlier mass, greeted old neighbors, spoken to the survivors of her formidable past. It was her first time back to the church in a long, long time. She'd returned to it's threshold when she first returned to New York, but was greeted with too much sorrow. Since then she'd returned several times, but enough so that she could count them on one hand. Christmas and Easter were musts, but sometimes she went to a more nearby church for mass.
But now there was a figure in her place-- her place-- and she was more than slightly befuddled. Licking her lips she patted out her clothing--not the nice blue dress, but a clean set of skirt and shirts reserved for masses-- and then entered the graveyard through the large, bolstered, cast-iron gates seeded in cement. She touched upon the tops of each grave stone separately, not wanting to approach this strange man who...really wasn't very strange.
Initially she'd been unsure about this person's placement. He could have been a sympathizer, but she wasn't so sure after a while. He seemed to have a personal connection with the graves, seeing as he'd spent copious amounts of time there. Upon drawing nearer she was able to make out three red roses and two blue flowers on each grave, both of which laid next to each other.
"'Scuse me, sir," she began after a period of discomfort. The boy turned around, looking unknowledgable.
Neither sibling recognized the other, initially. The boy stared back at her, blankly. "You...uh, well, I was wonderin if you'd move. Gotta pay me respects---" she paused, and shifted her weight.
The other boy looked at her tensely. "I'm not finished yet," he said. Gabbi didn't understand what was so important that it couldn't just...wait.
"Well, could ya hurry?" She asked, feeling impatient. He shrugged, "Gotta pay my respects to mother dearest," he commented, although he could honestly say it a lot more fondly than she could. But his fondness and tone weren't the sole focus of the sentence--it was the mother dearest part that got her.
"Mother?" she repeated, tilting her head. "Can't be." Patrick hadn't ever left Chicago. He told her he was going to stay there, and he had. He'd loved that city too much to just let it go. It had had the adverse effect on Gabbi, but apparently not so for him.
The denial seemed to fade for Patrick a lot faster than it had for Gabbi. "Have you forgotten me, Gabriella?" he asked, finally. Gabbi still looked wary, and felt like tackling the boy to the ground. Not out of joy, though, but rather out of anger.
"I aint forgotten you," she mumbled, gripping the gravestone more tightly. Her feet scuffed around in the dry summer's dirt. Grass was sparse and could not be watered efficiently here. There was no use anyway--not like the dead were watching anyway. "I jest aint too fond of you."
"Well, that's a pity, iddnt it?" He asked, grinning a bit. Gabbi didn't return the favor. His smile faded, and then he looked back at the gravestone. "What, no flowers?" he asked, and her frown turned to a look of embarrassment.
"I cant afford no flowers," she admitted, biting down on her lips.
"Not if your still talking like some back country fool," he said, arching an eyebrow. This, of course, didn't help her embarrassment. "You'd be more likely for work in a factory, or sewing, if you spoke more properly."
Gabbi cocked an eyebrow, mirroring her brother. "Your more stupid than I thought," she said, slowly, "They don't wanna hire educated girls. Educated women are like da devil if youse got a corporation. They want the ones that can't speak English good, if at all."
[[
Brother dear =)]]
