@croccin-champagne
((either one would work for me!))
((either one would work for me!))
(ok ok ummm. i can’t completely remember where i was going w this so we could start fresh?)
((of course! do we want to do any planning? since i dont remember the plot either lmao))
(yeah planning would probably be best lmfaooo. are we using the same characters or should we do something else?)
((well, i could use canary again, but i also have an idea for a very sweet and soft character with mafia/gang ties as well, which could be fun! and i'd love to see yeong again, or see what other character you come up with! if you'd rather i chose, just let me know))
(what’s your idea for the other character? and yeong is pretty much the only mafia/gang related character i have, so i would probably stick with him!)
((oh man, i have a handful of organized crime characters lmao. she'd probably be either an ex-member who got out thanks to a deal with the boss/also on the run and in hiding, or could even have worked as an emergency doctor/place to crash for yeong's group, though he likely wouldnt have met her yet. and nice, i like him a lot!))
(i like the sound of her! i’m sure whichever character you choose will be good. and yess, thank you haha. gotta love yeong)
((i'm actually vibing with her idea, so i'll do her! what kind of plot directions do you have in mind, if any?))
(ok cool, let’s do it then! maybe if she’s the emergency doctor/place to crash, yeong could have gotten too caught up in a heist and has to stay holed up there?)
((oo, i like that! it gives a good opportunity for possible drama later involving my girl being kidnapped because of the connection, or yeong being snatched up because he let his guard down!))
(ooo yes i love both of those ideas!)
((theyre kidnapped at the same time and have to get out together lmao, both is always better. would you like me to fill out the temp again?))
(lmfaooo that is very true, the more conflict the better. and if you have the time to, that would be great!)
Name:
Calandra "Cala" Nefeli
Age:
25
Gender:
Female
Sexuality:
Bi
Nationality/Race:
Greek
Appearance:
Golden olive toned skin and deep blue eyes. Her hair is naturally a wavy light brown, but the ends are dyed a faded pink right now, the result of dyeing it a year or so ago. She's 5'4 and still carries some muscle, though anymore she's a bit curvier. Covered in scars, with the most prominent ones being cigarette burns along her arms, burns from a fire poker on her back, and a brand on her stomach that she, during a bad episode, carved a line through with a kitchen knife. Has chain of daisies tattooed around her left wrist, and a daffodil on the section of her right hand beneath the thumb.
As far as clothing goes, she prefers long tiered and layered skirts, or shorts. Bandeau tops and tank tops are a favorite of hers, though when going out, she tries to cover her scars. Enjoys flowy shawls and flower prints, and being barefoot at home. Loves charm bracelets, but doesn't own any.
Personality:
Extremely sweet and generally more soft spoken. She comes off as a very passive type, always willing to help and care for the people who show up at her door as much as she can. However, underneath that is a lot of fear. It also doesn't matter how kind and sweet she is, she'll fight tooth and nail for the people she cares about, and anyone who has her loyalty.
Likes:
Skirts, sweet foods, plants, helping people. Loves animals and kids, and pop music.
Dislikes:
Thunder, the smell of patchouli, socks, and people who chew with their mouth open.
Hobbies:
Playing piano, gardening, baking, reading(has a thing for romance novels), and getting up at three in the morning to look at the stars.
Background (optional):
The daughter of a gang member, she grew up entrenched in organized crime. She despised her father's business, as he had so few morals that children weren't even safe from him. She knew that all too well, as her father was fond of harsh punishments for things as small as her elbows on the dinner table. When she was eighteen, she took off, legally able to leave and knowing it would be easier to hide that way. Not before anonymously tipping the FBI up to as much as she could, though
She eventually arrived in a place she considered safe enough, and spent a year recreating herself. One day, two injured men stumbled into the bookstore she worked at, looking for somewhere to hide. She didn't ask questions, frankly too afraid to, but let them into the backroom on the condition that they let her take a look at their injuries.
Yeong's father and one of his members had been the men to come in that day, and from then on, she offered help to a handful of men who just happened to get injured in conveniently vague ways nearby. When he learned about her past, he offered her protection in exchange for her help. She agreed, and has been helping since.
Other:
Can't dance, at all, but she still spins in circles to music,
(She looks great!! I’ll get working on a starter. Think it should be jumping right into the action of when Yeong shows up?)
((thank you! and that sounds perfect!))
Yeong was completely fucked. He had just wanted to mess around and do some drugs with his friends and a couple of pretty women at a house party. He was not prepared for the police to show up. At that point, he had to run out the back. Being chased by the police was something he was used to. It would have been fine, if they hadn’t been so aggressive and persistent that night. When he reached the back fence, he threw himself over it, the top of the fence slicing up his shirt and ultimately slicing into the skin on his side. That was just perfect, now he would need a tetanus shot.
As he continued to jog, he heard an officer approaching from behind at quicker speeds now that Yeong was injured. The cop lunged and took Yeong to the ground, the both of them tumbling down a hill. At some point along the way down, something in Yeong’s leg did not move right. He didn’t know what happened at the time, but in that moment his leg twisted and his ACL tore. He cursed loudly and scrambled with the cop, landing on top of him. He slammed his fist into the cops face multiple times until the cops face and Yeong’s knuckles were bloody.
Once Yeong was sure the cop was unconscious, he slowly attempted to stand, but hissed and cursed when he was barely able to stand on his left leg. He was way too far from home, and he couldn’t go back to his ride at the house- the cops would still be there. He decided his best option would be to limp to the nearby bookstore that his father told him about.
After at least a half an hour of limping, he arrived. At that point, it had to be closed, which was good. The streets were deserted, and he leaned against the door, trying to open it. It clicked as the lock held. “Oh come on, fuck,” he growled, squinting as he looked inside.
Cala had been in love with books since she was a child. Back then, they had been an escape, her only true one from the horrors her childhood home held. They took her to worlds where the bad guys were defeated, where the abusive parent was left behind and the protagonist flourished with people who actually cared for them. They still took her away. Though now, her life was a bit less something to run from.
Her love of books was part of why she had been thrilled to rent an apartment above a bookstore six years ago, and secure a job there. Her new home had been blended with her old one, with the stories from when she was a kid. She loved it, more than anything.
That was where she was now, the bookstore, closing up for the night as a soft and mellow tune played on her phone. It sat on the counter, allowing her to spin here and there as she made sure everything was in place, adoring the way her blue skirt flared out. The night had been calm, as had the day. A good day, with lunch brought in by one of the few friends she had allowed herself, and a new book arrival she was excited to read.
It seemed it was about to get a lot less calm, however.
Yeong reached a fist up, hitting it against the door. He really didn’t want to break the door- and he wasn’t sure if he could in his current condition- but he needed help. He knocked again, much louder that time. He couldn’t shout or anything along those lines, that would draw too much attention to himself.
((i hope the pushing response is okay, i don't want to accidentally make this drag too much))
A knock at the door made her jump, and she was quick to slip over against the wall. She inched closer, checking the door to see a man who did not look to be in very good shape. He wasn't someone she recognized, but injured people generally didn't show up at bookstores late at night without good reason, so she hazarded a guess at who he could be.
"Um–just a second!" Hurriedly, Cala grabbed her phone and hit the lights, throwing on a cardigan over her tank top to combat the night chill. When she slipped out, keys in hand, she couldn't help the gasp at the clear view of the man's state. "Oh, dear. Uh, I'll just–" She locked the door quickly, wasting no time in tucking the keys into her skirt pocket so she could help the man up the outside stairs that led to her apartment. The door was unlocked, something she only did when she was nearby.
It was a bit of a struggle helping him get up the stairs, but it was much easier to get him to the small couch in her living room. The apartment wasn't large, by any means, but was filled with a large variety of plants and paintings on the walls. It gave it a warm, eclectic vibe. One she loved.
"I need you to sit down, please. Don't worry about blood on the couch, that's what the blanket over it is for." She murmured, voice soft and hurried as she moved to the bathroom just off of the living room. "How much pain are you in? Is there anything in your system I need to know about? And where are your injuries?" As she made her way back out, a tub of supplies in hand, she blew a strand of hair out of her face, brows drawn down in obvious worry.
(no no it’s ok!)
Once the door was finally opened, Yeong exhaled sharply with relief. He leaned a bit of his weight off of his left leg and against the woman as he was helped up the stairs. His side was still dripping blood, and he felt light headed as it stained his shirt and joggers.
He dropped down on the couch, giving a dry, tired laugh. “Gracias,” he said, his hispanic accent thick and very noticeable. He tilted his head back, letting out a groan as he ran a hand over his face. He looked a lot more scruffy than he usually did. Usually he looked so much more put together- so much more like the heir to a drug cartel. Now, with his ripped up and dirty clothes, messy hair, and blood spotted skin, he didn’t look at his best.
“Lots of pain. Fucked up my leg and my side. Hurts like hell,” he said with an annoyed huff. When he was asked if there was anything else in his system he chuckled a bit, humming as he stared up at the ceiling. “Ah, nothing crazy, chica, just some booze and coke.”
"That means I should probably avoid giving you any pain medication." Cala's face twisted in an apologetic sort of grimace, as she set the tub down. "There are too many bad things that can happen if you mix both of those with medication. Take you shirt off, so I can deal with your side. Give me a second to wash my hands." She stripped off her cardigan, flicking on the overhead light as she headed to the bathroom again.
"When you say you messed up your leg, what do you mean? Gashes, blunt force? Or is something broken? I can only really do so much, so if it's broken, I may only be able to offer a wrap and balm to bring down the swelling." She explained, her voice carrying from the small bathroom over the sound of the water.
Yeong exhaled deeply. “Well if I can’t have any pain medicine, got any booze?” he asked with a bit of laughter. When he was told to take his shirt off, he choked back a snarky comment and took it off, dropping it to the side. He watched her walk away, glancing her over with curiosity in his eyes.
“Ah, I fell down a hill, so I don’t know. I’m not anything close to a doctor,” he laughed. “But it hurts pretty good and I can barely walk on it.”
He tilted his head as he peered in the direction of the bathroom. “What’s your name, chica?” he hummed, trying to make more conversation to keep his mind off of the pain.
"Most people call me Cala." She called back, turning off the water and drying her hands. Now that they were clean, she returned, digging through the tub of supplies. Everything in here was cleaned almost daily, and she would be wearing gloves. "Ah, here. Normally, I would offer medication instead. But since you're already, you know…" She trailed off, offering a small bottle of whiskey instead of finishing her sentence. "Since I'm not actually licensed, I guess there's no oath I'm breaking."
Moving around the tub, Cala knelt on the floor next to the couch, motioning for the man to turn and give her a clear view. "Knife, or fence? You may have to go in for a shot, if whatever did this was metal and unclean. Oh, um, what's your name, as well? It seems kind of rude to not ask."
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