Irell Starling

Restraint

Mark Neilson
12:37 am

I used to love being a doctor. I don’t know, it was like some kind of high. I felt good helping people feel better. I was saving the world one stuffy nose at a time. Now here I am, sneaking out the door of a club like some back-alley abortionist.

The metallic door of Club Esscro shuts firmly behind me. If I listen carefully, I can still make out the thumping base calling me back to the dance floor. As much as I want to, I can’t go back just yet. It’s never a good idea to mix business with pleasure. Around us the city is quiet and gloomy. Sky scrapers rise up from the dirty, paved streets. They reach out like metal fingers to the sky, their glass windows twinkling like the stars they’ll never touch. The night is cool and damp and the cold wall against my back bites through my thin dress shirt.

”What is it this time?” I ask, reaching into my pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. I offer one to my companion but he waves me off.

”I thought we could talk.”

I look at my companion. He’s taller than me by a few inches and older by a few months. He has short brown hair, scraggly eye brows that look like he borrowed them off a terrier, and piercing brown eyes. Even after mid-night his brown suit is immaculately pressed. Next to him I look nothing short of disheveled- but at least I’m not still on the clock.

”Spit it out, detective.” I said, a puff of green smoke lingering after my words. ”I don’t have time for this bull shit. My shift starts in a few hours.”

”Word on the street, Dr. Neilson is that you have connections with the Rebels.” I can feel him watching my face. It’s a mask a usual. ”Fortunately for you there’s never been any proof. That are you’re one of the best doctors in Restraint.”

I let out another puff of smoke. It’s orange this time. ”Did you ask me out here to flatter me? If so, let’s just cut to the chase. I don’t do men but I do know a wonderful bar tender who...”

”Damn it Mark!” he growls. And for a moment it’s like we’re back in school together. He’s no longer Detective Jones and I’m no longer Dr. Neilson. Part of me wants to fall down at his feet and beg him to help me. Then he has to go and mention her. ”Look, we all loved Julia. But you’re got to let it go and stop making an ass of yourself. Do you think that’s what your sister would have wanted!?”

To keep her alive? Yeah, I think that’s what Julia wants. My urge to confess my Rebel involvement at the feet of my former friend dies a quick death. ”If you drug me out here for a lecture- you can save it.” I push against wall and move to head back into the club.

”Does the name Emilie Killhallam, ring any bells?” Jones said, thrusting a picture in my face.

A dark haired beauty looks out at me from a black-and-white photo. Her face looks relaxed and her eyes sparkle with youth. She looks happy.

”No.” I answer. ”Should I?”

Restraint

Will do. I should have something up tomorrow evening or early Sat.

Restraint (MST3K 4ever & Starling)

Yes, by all means feel free to go ahead. :) I'll just have to figure out what I want to do with Nym.

Restraint

Would you like to have the first post in the IC or should I begin?

Restraint

Name: Hester Demaire


By: Rodrigo A. Branco
”Sometimes it’s just good enough to do a good thing!”

Age: 19
Gender: Female
Orientation: Unknown
Alignment: Lawful Good

Personality: Hester is peppy, sweet, and very trusting although that doesn’t necessarily mean she naïve. She wants to believe the best of people and truly believes that her jobs allows her to work for the common good. On the weekend Hester spends time volunteering at a children’s homes in the slums.

Occupation: Secretary for the Office of Finance

Biography: Hester is perhaps one of the most well-adjusted of her peers. She came from a good middle class home and attended decent schools. While she did not score as high on her placement exams as she might have expected, she is pleased to be working as a secretary. She is one of the youngest women working in her department and is often teased about her youth and lack of knowledge. Despite this, Hester has many friends outside of work. Recently, events have had the government of Restraint keeping a close eye on her.

---

Name: Mark Villias


By Mark Neilson
”This isn’t for justice or peace or hope of a bright future-this is for Julia.”

Age: 23
Orientation: Unknown
Alignment: Neutral Good

Personality: Mark used to be a happy, carefree guy until two years back. He used to care about other people. He used to be the type of person you could depend on. Now a day, however, his companions are cigarettes, pill bottles, and loose women.

Occupation: General Practitioner

Biography: Mark comes from an upper class family of four. Both he and his sister attended the best schools in Restraint and made high scores on the placement tests. Everything was going great until two years back when Julia, Mark’s younger sister, got involved with the Rebels. Thanks to an inside connection in the Office of Security, Julia was able to ‘disappear’ before the enforcers of Restraint were able to catch her. In order to be sure that his sister is continued to be kept safely hidden away, Mark ‘helps’ out the Rebels with everything from treating wounds to dolling out medicine.

Restraint (MST3K 4ever & Starling)

Let me know if there anything I need to chance in my post. Hopefully I didn't ruin your plan.

Restraint (MST3K 4ever & Starling)

”You’re late Charles. Again.”

Let it never be said that Gracie lacked a talent for stating the obvious. My supervisor looked up at me from behind a stack of books, her green spiked hair practically glowing under the florescent lights.

”My alarm clock went out,” I protested.
”Alarm clocks are supposed to auto-sync.”
”I know. Imagine my surprise when I found out mine didn’t.”
One green eyebrow raised. It was obvious to both of us that I wasn’t surprised.
”And your watch? You should have it set as a…”
I pointed to the metallic waste of space on my wrist. ”Hasn’t been working since last Thursday. I told you that.” The statement wasn’t one-hundred percent correct. My watch still functioned as a key, allowing me access to my apartment, and various archival rooms in the library during normal business hours. It also stored my banking information and allowed me to charge directly to my pitiful banking account. Did it tell time? Nope. I’d made the report to the Office of Security. Apparently they had more important things to worry about lately- like finding the responsible person behind the bombing. Next to that, a middle class citizen’s ability to tell the time simply by looking down at their extremities was not very concerning.
”Right, right…” she said, her eyes wandering back to the stack of books in front of her, ”Well don’t be late again.”

I started to walk off. It was Tuesday, my first day of the week (since I worked through Saturday) and chances were good that I’d have a ton of books to sort through and even a few to repair. It was a rare thing indeed for new novels to be published and the old ones were in constant need of repair. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to repatch the cover of “A Midsummer Night's Dream.” Sure we had the digital version, but most citizens couldn’t afford the luxury of that technology. I took all of two steps towards my desk before Gracie called me back again.

She held out a small white envelope that could have fit easily in the palm of her hand. ”Someone left this for you.”

I took it cautiously. It was completely sealed, and aside from my name scrawled in neat black ink, there was nothing else that stood out. Never the less my stomach was doing summersaults. ”Who left this for me?”

Gracie just shrugged. Her eyes turned back to her computer screen as she continued to scan the barcodes of the books. ”They dropped by around the time we opened. I didn’t really catch a good look. You know, if you’d come to work on time…”

I didn’t wait for her to finish before I started ripping open the letter. I could feel all the blood drain from my face and quickly turned around trying to hide my reaction from Gracie. On the front of the card, decorated with tiny white flowers was scrawled the following “Alley: Pearl & Phillips 7:30”. On the back- We know that you know.

My eyes dart around me but everyone seems content to go about their own business. Was this a message from the Rebels? Surely if it were the government they’d have drug me away in chains already.

Restraint (my Lalia & Starling)

Tuesday: 1251 pm
Enrick Valdea

She doesn’t remember me… or maybe she doesn’t want to. I look into the bright brow eyes of the woman across from me, hoping that maybe this time I will see a gleam of recognition. It never comes. Parcheck, my partner in crime, a parakeet with more brains that half of the business lot I’m serving on their lunch break, flutters onto her shoulder.

”I think he likes you,” I say as I watch the woman’s reaction. Her luscious pink lips fold into a smile as the bird makes itself comfortable on her shoulder. The reaction to Parcheck makes what I’m about to do next all the more difficult. I remind myself that Louisa Essair is the embodiment of everything I hate- successful, smart, beautiful. When digging up information on her, I was surprised to find that we’d grown up in the same apartment complex, just doors down from one another. If things had turned out differently, if the government hadn’t snatched away my parents at the age of five, I could be working along beside her instead of shoveling out hotdogs to make a living.

”Would you like to feed him?” I ask and offer her a small can of bird seed. I’m still wearing my plastic serving gloves in an effort to make sure it’s her fingerprints, not mine that are over the small tin.
She takes the small metal can happily and pours a little bit of seed into the palm her hand. The man besides her seems impatient as he shuffles back and forth on his feet, but Louisa Essair pays him no mind. Her eyes are filled with joy as she watches Parcheck greedily gobble up the grain. As for the can of seed, the plan is simple enough. I simple have to make sure someone leaves their fingerprints on an object and then plant that object near the next explosion site. Since the building we were planning on bombing is restricted, there would be no good reason for that person to be in the vicinity in the first place. I strongly agreed with the Rebel leader’s plan. Someone working in the Office of Security would be the perfect candidate to take the fall for our next bombing having ability (thanks to their security passes) if not the motive. The government was always looking for a scape goat and it was so much easier when we simply handed them one. Yes an innocent would take the fall but we did it for the common good.

”What other kinds of foods does he eat?” Her voice is low, almost melodic.

”He like carrots and especially partial to melon.” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. ”Just take the can back and get it over with.” I remind myself.

”I’ll try to bring him a piece of cantaloupe sometime.” She replies, beaming up at me. ”Would you like that, sir bird?”

Parcheck, as if somehow sensing her question (or at least understanding the word ‘melon’) chitters at her a bit before fluttering back to my shoulder. She hands the can of birdseed back to me before waving good-bye and walking away.

I am touched by her words. I used my first paycheck to purchase Parcheck. I saw him in the window of a dirty pet shop one afternoon. He was all alone, shut away in a small rusting cage. There was something about him that reminded me of myself. Parcheck, oblivious of my reminiscing nibbles gently on my earlobe before hopping onto his perch attached to the umbrella of my stand. ”Cantaloupe, hmm?” I say to myself. ”Cantaloupe is really expensive.” As were most foods that had to be grown in biospheres. I could hardly remember the taste of the orange fruit, it’d been so long. I reach over and quickly use a nearby napkin to wipe her fingerprints off the can. I can always find someone else.

The Fourth Blight {Irell Starling x Reaper}

At first everything seemed to be going well. Kaitlyn was making her way through the mutton stew when the mage stood up, made a scene, and stormed off. The Templar didn’t even bother to look up as the mage left but simply continued to spoon soup into her mouth as if nothing had happened. Kaitlyn knew, if circumstances had been different, she would have gone after Thea either to force her to come back to dinner and eat or simply to apologize. But not now. She had given all her emotions to Wendell’s death and their subsequent flight to safety. She had no more.

As Kaitlyn continued to eat the words of Transfigurations 12 spiraled around in her head. ” O Maker, hear my cry. Guide me through the blackest nights…” Thea was wrong. It wasn’t Kailtyn’s fault that the mage’s life with the elves was over. Human mages went to the Circle. That was the law. Kaitlyn was only acting to make sure it was kept. ” My Maker, know my heart. Take from me a life of sorrow...” Besides, if the Dalish had handed the human child over to the Templars years ago when she first showed a talent for magic, as was the law, this whole situation wouldn’t have happened in the first place! ” O Maker, hear my cry. Seat me by Your side in death…” The mage blaming Kaitlyn for taking her away from the Dalish was no better than Kaitlyn blaming the Dalish for Wendell’s death. Why was the mage in such a foul mood anyways? Yes, she was stripped away from what she’d grown up with but that was the fate of must human adults. At least she had a chance at a life! ” For You are the fire at the heart of the world And comfort is only Yours to give.”

The words of Transfigurations 12 had always been comforting before. They’d comforted Kaitlyn when Wendell first left, when she’d struggled in her trainings as a Templar, when her father died after losing him mind to Lyrium, when Wendell was made Tranquil. Apparently in the course of a single day she’d lost not only her friend, but her faith.

The soup and the table blurred together. Her meal was cold long before Kaitlyn headed to the room.

---

Kaitlyn knocked on the door to their room and waited. She was sure she’d given Thea enough time to bathe but her comment about Kaitlyn keeping an eye on her during the event was still fresh on the Templar’s mind.

“Thea,” Kaitlyn called. “I’m coming in. I suggest you cover yourself.” She waited for the mage to protest. Nothing came. “Thea? I mean it.” Nothing. Well Thea couldn’t blame the Templar for trying.

The door was unlocked. Her eyes adjusted to the tiny room. A single candle, drawing near to the end of its life, cast shadows about the darkness. Looking around, Kaitlyn found the single bed in the room was empty. Had Thea escaped out a window? A gleam of gold caught her eye. Turning, Kaitlyn found that Thea was still lying in a small wooden tub in the far corner, her back facing the Templar, golden curls falling to the floor.

“I did warn you.” Kaitlyn said exasperated, walking closer to the tub. When Thea didn’t answer right away, the Templar grew worried. “Thea?” A vision flashed in her head of the mage lying in a pool of red blood, a slash across her neck. “You okay?” No response. Kaitlyn rushed over and leaned over the other woman.

A quick inspection showed nothing was amiss and while the mage’s breathing was slow, it appeared Thea had simply fallen asleep in the bath. Feeling relieved, if not a bit annoyed Kaitlyn contemplated what to do. More than likely the girl had become exhausted from the day and passed out in the bath but the Templar knew how dangerous it would be to simply leave her there. Unfortunately, the stupid tub didn’t have a drainage hole- if it had, Kaitlyn would have simply drained the water and left Thea there.

Her eyes fell over the woman as she tried to think up a solution. The soap in the water had long cleared leaving white wisps, like clouds, on the surface. Underneath a tangle of legs and smooth white skin shone in the fading candlelight. The height of the water allowed beautiful round globes to be exposed to the cool evening air. A few slick golden tendrils fell across them, framing their shape. Kaitlyn’s eyes lingered on one of the two pink-

Heat rose to her cheeks as Kaitlyn felt her whole face turned red, when she realized the direction her thoughts were going. Taking off the collared shirt she always wore under her armor, lest she get it wet, the Templar leaned over and gathered Thea’s body. Kaitlyn thought she heard Thea stir but it took all her concentration not to drop the mage. While the other woman wasn’t heavy, her limp body was awkward to carry and the wound on Kaitlyn’s arm protested the strain. The water Thea had been in was barely luke-warm, and the mage was still damp when Kaitlyn placed her on the bed and pulled the covers over her.

“I’ll be right outside,” Kaitlyn said, turning away to collect her shirt.

The Fourth Blight {Irell Starling x Reaper}

Lol. Okay. :P Will Thea respond to someone calling her name/ gently tapping her or will she need to be carried out of the tub?