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 every single wound’s got a story to tell., Norah/Fleur
clark kent rockwell
 Posted: Apr 10 2017, 08:39 AM
Quote

the iron giant
FROM the iron giant

❝Souls don't die.❞



30 YEARS
6′ 4″
confused
single
15
kaida

Offline

N/A


The morning had gone awry. After another long night at work only to return six hours later, Clark woke to the most insistent noise in creation. An alarm clock he had modified to begin a playlist at a certain time should have been the sound to ease him into the morning. Except, a few minutes before five, the time his morning playlist began, a screech, which he could only describe as earsplitting, rudely interrupted a fitful sleep. Not the most aware creature in the morning, the shaggy haired man thought nothing of it as he automatically put himself and his things together. Showered, dressed, organized – it had all been done without Clark’s participation. Abnormally gifted in unconscious morning routines while his mind “slept” a period longer, he was close to complete alertness when the shrill again traveled between apartment walls.

Being a policeman gave him a certain liberty to act in an authoritative manner. But being Clark gave him something more – it gave him gentleness. Unfortunately, however, when you were 6’4” and adorned in an officer’s uniform, not everyone reacted with awe and respect. Sometimes you got the opposite. Fortunately, today was not one of those times.

Exiting his apartment, Clark located the disturbance –shouting– to his next door neighbors. Now in full cop-mode, he approached in confidence and gave a hard knock. The person to answer was just as he expected: a tear-stained woman. He might’ve not known the circumstance, he might’ve not known the cause, but the sight of a woman in clear distress washed away any logical standpoint he had in the situation. It evoked him.

If it had been Clark in civilian clothes, the encounter would’ve gone differently. But because he wore the badge, instincts urged him to act on the law’s behalf, as Officer Rockwell. Those instincts ultimately gave the woman a strong suggestion to notify the police, or if she felt more comfortable, to contact him anytime she needed to. It was his uniform that limited his future involvement, whatever it might be – which was the exact reason why he didn’t always support it. Either way, cop or not, he knew he had just riled a potentially dangerous man. Better check on her later, Clark reminded himself as he assumed his trek to work – doing all he could at the moment.

Once he ate a quick meal at a nearby favorite diner, he clocked in to receive his first assignment for the day. A kidnapped victim had been cleared by her doctors to be questioned. The majority of the details pertaining to the case were severely lacking, but since the victim –reiterated, woman, because Clark despised that word: victim– was coherent enough, the task had been thrust upon him. More than willing to comply, Clark ignited the cruiser’s engine with its key and drove to the hospital where Norah Abagnal was emitted.

The hospital itself was a place he rarely visited, if ever. Suffering from an injury severe enough never occurred to warrant a trip. So after a few wrong turns, Clark eventually found himself at a large building. Inside, a busy receptionist led him to room. Before he strode in to make conversation, however, he reexamined her case. After a quick talk with the doctor, to learn further that Norah suffered mightily during her three years of capture, Clark combed a hand through obsidian hair. This was going to be a difficult case for him. With a sincere smile on his frequent resting face, he lifted a fist to the wall and knocked for the second time that morning to a woman in distress.

Yup, very difficult indeed.

NOTES: norah emmeline abagnaleIf anything needs to be changed, let me know.

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norah emmeline abagnale
 Posted: Apr 10 2017, 11:27 PM
Quote

Emily
FROM corpse bride

❝but it looks like I still have some tears to shed❞



30 YEARS
5'5"
heterosexual
married
20
fleur

Offline



Her escape from her captors had been long and exhausting. The walk home was a blur, and she knew she'd managed to get herself lost on more than one occasion, seeing as she didn't quite know where she'd even been. Eventually she'd found her way home, and from there she'd been brought to the hospital. It wasn't until she caught a faint image of her reflection in the glass doors leading in that she realize how awful she looked. She supposed it was to be expected when you lived for a handful of years off of basically crackers and slop. Whatever they had fed her wasn't something she would consider food.

It was difficult getting her hooked up to the IV and the various other machines that the doctors insisted she needed. Needles scared her, they sent her into fits of panic, bringing forward flashes of vivid memories of being poked and prodded like an animal test subject. She'd heard her doctor mutter something about possible PTSD when he was walking out after they had calmed her enough to get her situated in her bed.

The first night of freedom was bittersweet. It was delightful because her rest was uninterrupted by sudden tests, but instead it was interrupted by horrible nightmares... She woke up in a panic, being in a strange and unfamiliar place... But then found a slight peace when her mind settled and reminded her that this was a safe place. She was safe, she was alive, and she was going to get better. She had to.

The next day was uneventful. She had nurses come and check up on her, doctors come to talk and eventually she was informed that an officer was coming to ask her about her ordeal. Frankly it was something she didn't want to think about, but she wanted to help... With as little information as she could provide, she wanted to help... If only to be sure this didn't happen to anybody else. So, when she heard the knock, she sat up straight with pillows keeping her propped up and called out to him. "Come in!" She spoke before putting on a soft and weak smile. She was typically someone who tried to be hopeful, it kept her going for so long, and she was hopeful that he could help in one way or another.

we all pass away
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clark kent rockwell
 Posted: Apr 13 2017, 08:03 AM
Quote

the iron giant
FROM the iron giant

❝Souls don't die.❞



30 YEARS
6′ 4″
confused
single
15
kaida

Offline

N/A


At the sound of her answer, Clark unlatched the door’s handle. Peculiarly, the room itself and surrounding halls were free from reporters and guarding officers. Taking a mental note of the lack of protection, he took a step across the threshold and quietly slipped inside. Once behind the door, he shut it with a soft click. While posting a security guard wasn’t always procedure, Clark discovered that when there was one, many frightened people were inclined to relax. Of course, it varied from case to case, person to person, but to learn not one officer stopped by to visit Mrs. Abagnale, minus himself, worried him. What if the perpetrator had heard of his victim’s location? With no defense, she was an open target and potentially at risk of a worst case scenario – because how else did a criminal keep their identities and motives a secret but to eliminated any witnesses.

Thoughtfully musing over the idea of how to remedy that, long legs carried him to her in a few short strides. A moment passed before his hand extended forward as a formal beginning to an introduction. He thought it as a ridiculous notion, to shake someone’s hand, but a necessary need to appear “normal”, he complied with the world’s strange rules – although his movements were awkward and certain. As he waited for Norah to return the favor, because that’s just what society forces, Clark took the opportunity to look at her. Norah appeared frail, weakened physically (and, probably, no doubt mentally) by her traumatic experience. Stricken to his core that anyone had a sick mind to do this, facial muscles began to tense in grim forbearance. Just as soon as a sliver of ire slid past that self-control, his lopsided grin returned.

“Mrs. Abagnal,” his heavy, somewhat strange accented voice spoke, breaking the short-lived silence and his rising contempt. “I’m Officer Rockwell. I’ll be the one to interview you today. May I sit?” At the end of his sentence, a wave of an arm aimed to an armchair which sat next to her hospital bed. Purposefully avoiding further eye contact, an instinct he had to rest assure he came in peace and not provocation, his dark caramel eyes lifted around the room. How many visitors had she seen? Any? Clark couldn’t help but wonder. But with a want to ease into the interview easily as possible, his eyes lingered only a second longer before he gave any indication he was curious.

“Is there anything I can do for you or get you?” He asked patiently, a genuine concern written among his many expressions.

NOTES: norah emmeline abagnale

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norah emmeline abagnale
 Posted: Apr 20 2017, 12:02 PM
Quote

Emily
FROM corpse bride

❝but it looks like I still have some tears to shed❞



30 YEARS
5'5"
heterosexual
married
20
fleur

Offline



Norah smiled and nodded her head as he walked in and asked to sit. "Yes, yes of course." She said, gesturing towards one of the chairs next to her bed. She liked having people here, she'd been alone for so long and now she finally had the chance to be among people again. Human interaction had been next to non-existent the passed few years. Even if she still didn't get a lot beyond the nurses checking her and the occasional visit from a friend, even just having friendly company was more than she could ask for.

Norah smiled at his offer and gestured to a bottle of water next to her bed. "Can you just pass me that?" She asked as she got herself propped up more against her pillows. Glancing over to him, she took a deep breath before slowly letting it out. "Okay... Let's get this over with. What do you need to know?" She asked, pursing her lips and setting her hands in her lap.

She didn't want to talk about this, not really... But she also wanted this to be stopped, she wanted to try and give whatever information she could about this place so that she could possibly help save others from the same fate. She didn't remember much, but she would do what she could.

we all pass away
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