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[personal profile] bachjones
 Mrs Gordon had told him that he wasn't welcome anymore in her building, as a neighbor of hers. Bach had tried to get his explanation in, how he was still losing large patches of memory and that for once he wasn't being selfish, but thinking of Isaac, but she had bulldozed him like she was paid for it. For a second he suspected Essie, maybe his father, but he was pretty sure that neither of them would pay for something that they'd do themselves all too gladly. He just hoped that Robert wouldn't discover about all this before Essie could become Isaac's legal guardian..

Either way, it was him and Alfred, his guitar and a huge suitcase right now.  Mrs Gordon paid him for the few pieces of furniture he had and that was it. On the street, like nothing had changed in five years. Except for now --now he missed people. Loud and painfully and almost impossible to ignore. Stuff was all so unfair. You'd think Bach was used to that now.

It was at the beach (swimming lessons with Iris, fooling around with Essie, so many parties) that he sat down, gathering courage to make the leave permanent. How dramatic of him.

So when Isaac ran past him, he was half sure that it was just something his mind cooked up. A This Is Your Life moment that would show him what he would miss, or something. It could happen, this was Siren Cove. But Isaac circled and ran past again, yelling at him to catch him, and Bach got up, followed. The boy was fast, faster than usual, and it became weird, fast.
The first time he told him to stop, Isaac snarled at him. The second time parts of his skin seemed to peel off, showing scales. Too many, too bright scales. "Why aren't you coming, daddy? Why aren't you following me? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?" It became a cadence like a stuck disk, humming through Bach's until he gave up, closed his eyes, wanted all of it gone, finally discovering a sound too loud.
Something hit him, scales ripping his skin. Just before losing his consciousness, he felt waves crashing into him. Fucking ocean.



ooc: find Bach half in the water, roughed up and more than a mess than usual, with a confused cat by his side and his stuff on the beach





Date: 2015-11-12 05:07 pm (UTC)
cry_reaper: (Default)
From: [personal profile] cry_reaper

"No, I have a .45 and though we'd just rob the place. Spice up the evening." Lily watched him get out of the car, hoping he didn't look at ragged to the employees as he did to her, or they might have the cops called anyway.

Oh, well. At least she was the good samaritan here.

"Maybe you should stay put?"

Date: 2015-11-16 09:09 pm (UTC)
cry_reaper: (Default)
From: [personal profile] cry_reaper

"You're not the first not-drunk I've patched up after a night out." Hell she'd patched herself up a time or two, if she was honest. "But as for painkillers, you'll have to do with aspirin. I don't have anything stronger than that."

And she was legally required not to have anything stronger than that at hand, as a provision of her bail for the charges she was facing back in New York. She wasn't going to let some not-drunk fuck that up for her.

Date: 2015-11-19 10:15 pm (UTC)
cry_reaper: (Default)
From: [personal profile] cry_reaper

"I'm rid of you as soon as I drag you up to a hotel room and I'm not singing for your drugs. The aspirin will have to do." She was dammned if she was going to get herself busted for a stranger. She was helping him, but to a point and right now, he was sounding like a junkie.

The last sort of persons he was supposed to be associating with. If her mother found out, there would be hell to pay.

Heading inside, she didn't care if he followed or not as she started gathering up some bandages, ointments and the promised OTC painkillers.

Date: 2015-11-23 07:36 pm (UTC)
cry_reaper: (Default)
From: [personal profile] cry_reaper

"I don't give a shit what you do. And It's not like I was looking to pick up some not-drunk on the beach tonight. You're paranoid, dude." Although it wasn't paranoia if they were out to get you, and she really didn't know how Lara handled things. She was just keeping her own damn head down and trying not to gather too much attention.

Which was going to be a problem if this guy was on Lara's shit-list.

"All I was going to do was get you off the street for the night, but if you want to bail, at least let me get you the bandages and shit."

Date: 2015-11-23 10:53 pm (UTC)
cry_reaper: (Default)
From: [personal profile] cry_reaper

"No shit, mistake." Sighing, Lily grabbed the sweatpants from off his shoulder and headed towards the check-out clerk who looked only slightly less enthusiastic about the situation than she did. PIling the bandages, rubbing alcohol, antiseptic gel, aspirin, and a couple of protein bars on the counter, she turned to look back at the guy.

"Last call. I'm checking out."

Date: 2015-11-30 09:43 pm (UTC)
cry_reaper: (Default)
From: [personal profile] cry_reaper

"You're welcome, Wendy. Next time you jump out a window, maybe make sure you can fly first, k?"

Lily paid for all the the supplies and she headed back out to the car with the bag. Now she just had to get him into some kind of motel room for the night and she could wash her hands of the guy and maybe start the night over if it wasn't too late.

Date: 2015-12-02 09:37 pm (UTC)
cry_reaper: (Default)
From: [personal profile] cry_reaper

"I told you I'd get you a night somewhere. But if you don't want it..." She shrugged. She kinda felt for him, but mostly didn't. It was clear that some shit had gone down and she really wasn't supposed to be getting involved in that kind of thing.

And then there was the fact that he was a siren. And Lara would probably have her head if she just abandoned one of her precious subjects. But fuck it. If he wanted to take off, she wasn't a baby-sitter.

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bachjones: (Default)
Bach Jones

Introduction

I sing. I play different instruments, when I can get my hands on them. I'm saving for a harp and a cello. Right now I only have an old guitar, brandless. But it's okay, when I have a song it doesn't matter how it's created. Because that's what I'm really about, songs. My own, they make my life better. But if the public wants a known song, I will sing a known song. Because you can't live on music, this world makes you need money. I'm ..Siren Cove isn't that bad. The people here aren't bothersome, that's nice. They appreciate your space. Maybe in some time I'll start to feel at home here.

--
This is a RP blog for Siren Cove
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