Stitches

Numenera: The Ninth world (Interest Check)

I'm one of Benny's players in the actual tabletop game he's running for Numenera, and I wholeheartedly give my support and recommendation to anyone who wants to join. Obviously, I'll be joining this game the moment it starts up!

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

Actually, I was waiting on you to post to continue the scene before interacting with anyone else lmao.

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

Edited the post accordingly.

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

Ahh alright, my mistake. I'm not changing it just yet, because Dino is planning on sending you a PM about a shared backstory that might make the whole thing Moog - whilst that's going on, I should note we wrote the ending out to allow the GM to move the scene on, as he said he would do something similar just before we joined. Hopefully this will get resolved fairly quickly!

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

Oooh, it wasn't common knowledge? In one of your posts attacking the werewolves Blaine declared it in public so I assumed otherwise. Would you like us to change it?

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

Brooks Lockwood and Abigail Harlow

Location; Lockwood Residence
Interacting With; N/A

The Lockwood residence was a rural bungalow cottage some distance away from the town centre, bordering on the rugged wilderness and sitting quite smugly on the doorstep of the supernatural. It had three bedrooms, one bathroom, a toilet, a kitchen and a dining room that lead seamlessly into the living room. The garden was large and only a low, unkempt hedge split it from the tall canopy of the surrounding woodland. The garage had a door leading to the basement and both the front and back doors had sizeable porches to relax in the sunshine. It was also positively seeping out all sorts of wards, charms and trinkets to keep monsters out. Abigail was nigh certain that even though these additional security measures, harmless if you hold the right key to pass through (which she did), were the things worsening her nightmares. For the umpteenth time this month, Abigail woke up with a ragged yell and irrational, incomprehensible sobs.

Brooks let out a sigh, it was early afternoon and he had long since perched himself in a rocking chair right outside his door. Hearing Abigails recently recurring wake-up yell snapping his mind out of daydreaming. He acted like he couldn’t hear, just to pretend to give her the belief of privacy to recover from whatever nightmare she dreamed up. He waited, silently rocking back and forth for another fifteen minutes before entering his abode and voicing out: “Abi’! ‘Bout time you start wakin’ up!” before meandering his way towards the kitchen.

Abigail pitter-pattered out of the room in her pajamas. She had the time to compose herself and made a big theatrical yawn which briefly revealed the presence of several fresh purplish scars across her body. “Morning Brooks…” she mumbled as she made a beeline for her cereal box. “Or, uh. Good afternoon?”

“Whatever time suits you most nowadays, Sunshine. How was sleep?” he asked, disguising the question with nonchalance to convey the facade of unawareness. Abigail merely laughed and shook her head - it was more than enough to answer the question.

“You uh,” There was a pause as Abigail poured her cereal. “You got any jobs to do today, or is this your day off too?” There was a twinge of hopefulness in her voice. Unsurprising, given that Abigail spent the most part of this year cooped up inside, primarily on her own.

“I am, yeah. Anythin’ you had in mind?” he asked, smiling lightly as he worked about heating the kettle. Abigail hesitated and stared at Brooks confusedly, mulling over the sentence in her head.

“Wait-...oh, right, you're on your day off. Nice!” Abigail perked up at the thought. She leant in, almost entirely ignoring the soggy bowl of Cheerios in front of her as she spoke eagerly. “I was thinking we go on a really long run this time. All the way out to the-....the fuck?”

“The -what-?” Brooks furrowed his brows, hoping he misheard, as he continued brewing himself a cup of tea. Abigail shook her head brusquely and stood up, chair scraping against the tiles. She scurried over to the window next to Brooks and pushed it open with a grunt.

“Shhhshhhshh. Listen.”

Sure enough, there were faint cracks echoing across the hillsides. Abigail squinted into the town with a frown. “...are those gunshots coming from town or the woods?”

“It ain’t our problem, as long as they’re not aimed at us.” he scoffed, finally finishing brewing a warm cuppa’.

Abigail scoffed. “I thought you were a hunter,” she quipped sarcastically. Both hands gripped onto the frame as she slammed the window down again, going back to sit at the table. “Okay, maybe let's not go on a run today, if people are out there shooting shit. I don't wanna be turned into a coat.” Abigail went quiet and shovelled the rest of her breakfast into her mouth. “... actually, there is something I want to do today. I was meaning to ask for a while now. Do you know William? The sorta….” Abigail waved her spoon vaguely, “...weird but cheery kid, around my age? Works at the butchers?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him a couple of times. He do somethin’?” Brooks perked a brow, seating himself at the duo’s communal table and gently sipping at his still steaming ceramic mug.

“Wh-...how can he do something if I haven't seen him since like….March?” Abigail stared at Brooks flatly. She then hastily looked away, getting nervous. “Well, uh. I think he's a werewolf.” She fiddled with her spoon. “I'm just thinking about asking him for a bit of help, now we know I'm not dangerous, 'cause there's a lot of shit I don't understand still, and you kinda have to-...to be there to understand it, you know? Like, you gotta be a-...a werewolf to get it.” There was a sour tone whenever she said werewolf. Abigail peered at Brooks sheepishly and flashed a little smile at him “problem is, I don't know. And he's like, my only friend out here. And I don't want to tell him without knowing. Basically I'm asking you for help trying to figure out whether my friend’s a werewolf because you're a hunter and you're trained in this.”

“Christ, all you were missing is a stutter.” he paused, letting the teasing comment hang in the air, and took a slurp from his tea. He had been thinking about this for a while, and as experienced as he was with the -hunting- of a werewolf it didn’t mean he knew how to be one. He hadn’t considered anyone young to help her, but as Abigail mentioned the possibility of there being one, it got his gears turning. “Alright, i’ll have a look at the kid.” he eventually agreed.

“Nice. But uh...how? And when? I can send him a text asking to meet up but don't you need anything special for werewolf checking?” Abigail looked a little less nervous now that Brooks agreed but she was still quite frantically playing with her spoon, clearly still stressed out. “Ugh, Jesus…what if he isn't one? I don't even want to do this at all. Fuck,” Abigail abruptly pushed away her bowl disgustedly and leant back on her chair.

“Calm down, and -language-” he scolded with furrowed brows. “Instead of hedging your bets on a maybe, how about I take you to a definite werwolf? I’ll sort it out. Talk to her. See if she wants to be helpful.” he sighed, scratching his cheek before raising his mug for another sip. Even with some thought put into it, the situation was tricky and one he had always dreaded. However keeping Abigail locked up was only going to add to the disaster that was already there.

Abigail was sulking now, arms folded and looking away from the table despondently. “so how are we going to do this? Just wander around town until we find her? Go straight to her house? 'hey, I heard you were a big fu-...a big nasty werewolf, can you teach my niece how to stop chasing her tail when she gets distracted?’ and it has to be 'we’, because it's not as if you can bring her here, she'd burn up before we even get to the front door.”

Brooks didn’t reply for a long while, calmly focusing on his early afternoon tea instead of investing any attention to Abigail's woeful being. Finishing the drop of his tea he finally replied “Yes.”

Abigail groaned in frustration, swinging her legs out as she glowered at Brooks. “Are we going now, or later?” She asked in a measured tone. She looked more restless than ever - no doubt anxious to move, or at least get out of the house.

“I don’t know. There’s a bowl of cereal that’s got your answer though.” he stared at her expectantly, shooting a brief glance down at the bowl containing now long soggy cereal bits in it. Abigail stared at the bowl stupidly, as if expecting a word to inexplicably float to the surface. When the penny dropped she stared at Brooks cooly. She slurped up her cereal loudly, deliberately, never breaking eye contact with her uncle.

“Ata’ girl. Now come on, lock up upstairs i’ll be in the car.” he stood himself with a groan, grabbing the bowl and empty tea mug and placing them in the sink before making his way outside. Abigail couldn't have gone any faster, even if she tried - the slammed doors and jingled locks of a very conscientious Hunter's abode echoed downstairs as Brooks was tying his laces. He had barely turned on the engine before Abigail popped out of the front door with a hefty keyring in hand, fumbling with the front lock. She slammed into the passenger seat and started struggling with her seatbelt.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Abigail asked eventually, since the belt kept jamming. “We haven't told anyone yet. We don't have to tell anyone. Will I get in trouble for this?”

“No.” he shook his head, driving off their premises.

Chicken Leg [OPEN]

I'm away on holiday ATM! Post without me, I'm reconsidering whether or not I have enough time for this RP anyway.

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

Abigail Harlow

Abigail Harlow

_{{ "Every now and again you run into a brick fucking wall." }}

---

| {Full Name} |

Abigail Lockwood-Harlow

| {Nickname} |

Abi

| {Date of Birth} |

June 26th

| {Age} |

18

| {Gender} |

Female

| {Sexuality} |

Bisexual

| {Relationship Status} |

Single and disinterested

| {Role} |

Werewolf

| {Occupation} |

Abigail works flexible/part time with a nearby convenience store.

| {Face Claim} |

Dakota Fanning

| {Dialogue Color} |

None? (I’m really not a fan of colouring dialogue.)

| {Appearance} |

Standing tall at five-foot nothing with a shit-eating grin, a mane of messy blonde hair and inquisitive periwinkle eyes is Abigail Harlow. She is scattered with little scars, nicks, scrapes and bruises that seem to shift about on a daily basis. Spends most of her time outdoors but suntans seem to fade away the moment she steps inside - not even a freckle she could boast about, making her look a bit like a shut-in when it couldn’t be further from the truth. Her physique is best described as ‘gangly’ - packs of muscle here and there but skinny as a twig regardless of whatever she eats. No piercings, no tattoos; she knows she’ll mess them up eventually. A few of her toes are bent at a funny angle after she broke them and didn’t get them set properly. She typically wears bright and obscure brands that she managed to dig out of a second hand store somewhere and invests most of her money into very practical pairs of trainers. She owns enough hoodies, coats and jackets to provide for a small independent town. Hats aren’t her thing.

When she has the misfortune of transforming, she takes on an odd appearance compared to her european and north american counterparts. The African Golden Wolf is a bit of an odd breed to turn into but it best represented her personality and human appearance; small, scrawny, with a tanned coat of wiry hair and large inquisitive ears. She is also just as scarred as her human counterpart but most of it is hidden underneath the fur. She appears to be in good physical health, despite being a bit of a runty werewolf to begin with.

| {Habits & Quirks} |

Fidgeting, playing with her hair and moving about a lot when she’s stressed.

| {Hobbies} |

Jogging, Gymnastics, Roller Skating

| {Likes} |

Running around.
Climbing things (it makes her feel tall).
Wry, sarcastic humour.
Trying to do new, exciting and probably dangerous things.
Plasters, but particularly the colourful ones.
Fresh air.
Cheap and plentiful amounts of food.
Dry cereal.
Neon lights.

| {Dislikes} |

The A&E.
Being bored, staying still, or anything to do with idleness.
Assholes that aren’t charismatic.
Alcohol and drugs.
The cold.
Strangers.
Solemnity.

| {Fears} |

Drowning.
Being alone/abandoned.
Being a werewolf.

| {Secrets} |

If it wasn’t for Abigail’s involvement, her mother wouldn’t be in jail. Lisa Harlow was an abusive alcoholic who scared off Jean, Abigail’s father, and tormented Abigail for most of her childhood.

She was given away to her uncle in a last-bid attempt to save Abigail from a life of crime after she was put in a juvenile institute with criminal battery charges. It’s likely her mother wasn’t aware of Brooks’ occupation at the time.

| {Abilities} |

Sniffer Dog: Abigail’s senses are extremely heightened, most likely due to the fact she is by far one of the weakest werewolves around. She can pick up on things that even alpha werewolves might miss; whether or not she chooses to follow them is another thing entirely.

Slippery Bugger: A combination of her small size, aerodynamic frame and high stamina mean she’s very difficult to catch. She runs faster and turns quicker than your typical werewolf.

| {Limitations} |

Overwhelmed: In wolf form, Abigail’s senses are so overpoweringly sensitive that she is easily confused and disorientated by them.

Tough Transformations: Transforming is a physically harrowing and difficult process for Abigail. It doesn’t take long but it saps the energy right out of her, leaving her at a disadvantage already in fights.

Mood Swings: Abigail’s transformations are controlled but entirely dependent on mood. It’s typically high stress situations that cause her to start feeling symptoms. She can quell them but will eventually have to shift, regardless of situation, for at least a couple of minutes.

Short Attention Span: In wolf form, Abigail has to make a concerted effort to remain fully aware of her actions. She isn’t an inherently aggressive wolf if she does lose focus though; she acts more like a skittish yet inquisitive animal than the snarling, aggressive beasts Salem is accustomed to.

| {Personality} |

♦ Friendly/Welcoming ♦ Impulsive ♦ Charismatic ♦ Callous ♦

Abigail bears the tell-tale signs of a woman forced to mature too quickly. She fluctuates between being self-sufficient and sensible to acting like any other cheeky teenage girl would. Her sharp tongue and witty comments are more than enough to get her in trouble. Often restless and always fidgety, Abigail has a boundless amount of energy that spills into her everyday life and fuels her moments of irrationality, those famous “fuck-it-let’s-give-this-a-shot” ideas that every young adult has been guilty of before.

She enjoys debates and isn’t afraid to speak her mind, even if they devolve into shouting matches and sulking. Her sharp mind means that even if she couldn’t exactly avoid trouble, she was well equipped for getting herself out of whatever screw-up she inevitably lands herself in. Even if she acts like a smart-ass from time to time, no-one is more aware of their own frailty than Abigail. Almost everything she does is humbled by the constant reminder that she is younger, weaker and less experienced than most of the people around her. Yes, she is passionate and stubborn and will fight for her voice to be heard but there are some situations where Abigail can clearly see she is physically weaker than most.

You'd think that someone as sociable and friendly as Abigail would be a model student, but it's far from the truth. The best way to describe it is that she's inadvertently bad; she tries so, so hard to be the loveable rascal of the town and most of the time she pulls it off, but there's just this indiscernible something that's been ingrained into her psyche and she constantly fights it. It's the reason she won't touch drugs, the reason why she becomes so ruthless when she's drunk. It's why her temper is so short and it's why she'll cross the line every so often with her insults. It makes her big smile seem fake sometimes and it gives her the unnerving, almost predatory gaze of a hardened criminal even though she claims she's never done anything worse than shoplifting.

With this hindrance, it's no wonder that Abigail shies away from trusting others and keeps closer to her uncle instead. It's why everyone is just friends with Abigail and nothing more. It's almost ironic; most kids her age are busy trying to rebel against the system and live a free, uninhibited life; Abigail's doing her damnedest to be a good neighbor. She just doesn't have the part in her brain that should mention when something's a bad idea before it becomes a retrospective thought.

Her attitude towards the supernatural is very blasé. On the one hand, she doesn’t care what you are - vampire, werewolf, witch or eldritch horror - so long as you aren’t putting everyone else at risk, you’re not a threat in Abigail’s eyes. That being said, she’s in the belief that if nobody ‘thins the herd’ of all the supernaturals with ill intentions, humanity will be overrun and inbreeding/cross-species children will inevitably occur. That, in her opinion, would cause a whole host of problems. She rarely objects to her uncle’s killing of supernaturals unless they’re someone she knows that doesn’t deserve it.

| {Place of Origin} |

New Orleans.

| {Background} |

Abigail’s time in New Orleans was kept largely a secret for privacy purposes, but from what the rumour mill has managed to scrounge up she left the city in a hurry. She showed up with Brooks Lockwood from ‘the big city’ when she was around 12 years old and very clearly kept whatever happened between her and Brooks. It took her a while to settle in but when she did, she immediately made a couple friends and met many people. She knew everyone and everyone knew her; but when it came down to it, nobody was really her confidante, her best friend above all else. This was only partially to do with the fact she’s quite a guarded and stubborn brat in the first place; the other important playing factor was the fact her uncle was a hunter. She never really had friends over for sleepovers when she moved to Salem.

School was a difficult transitioning period - she was the asshole that always called our inappropriate things in class but also sucked up to the teachers. Even then, she hardly got a good grade because she couldn’t stand taking the time to actually study. She went out a lot instead and her recklessness was the cause of many an accident as she grew up. The only ‘odd’ part of her school life were the occasional ‘long weekends’ that she and Brooks would take for vacation, always coming back in a solemn and (in Abigail’s case) openly hostile mood.

It was after one of these weekends that Abigail ran into an outcast werewolf; a runty, skinny thing with a huge grudge to bear. He took out his frustrations on the girl only a few months back, only adding to the repertoire of scars and leaving Abigail with a curse that she had previously (and naively) believed she wouldn’t catch due to her fairly neutral stance in the supernatural conflicts in her hometown. After that, Abigail became a bit of a shut-in; she severed almost all ties with the people outside, kept glued to Brooks’ side and only really started leaving the house more for exercise purposes than anything else.
Nevertheless, she kept the same point of view that she had before; in whatever brief contact she kept with the rest of the world she was open about her newfound condition and insistent that it didn’t change her opinion on the supernatural, that she wasn’t about to follow her uncle’s footsteps just because one pissy werewolf changed her life forever. That being said, she relishes in describing just how her uncle dealt with the perpetrator in...graphic detail.

Only recently has Abigail decided to go back to school and get herself a part-time job working retail in a shitty little convenience store not too far from home. She’s regaining her footing again and trying to rebuild her life, unaware that chaos is looming just around the corner.

| {Extra} |

Since Abigail is super sociable (or at least, she WAS until a few months ago) it’s likely that my character knows yours - at least via proxy. Please feel free to approach me with any pre-established relationships you have in mind, provided they aren’t too close or intimate.

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

Brilliant, thank you so much! I'll work on an IC post soon. Also, I hope you have room for one more - like I said, when my friend gets back from work he'll be working on the sheet for Brooks.

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

I only posted it a couple hours ago, I don't expect anyone to have read it yet...I'm surprised you were both so quick to welcome me in though, that's a good sign! And sure, we'll go with that Polaris. I don't want to plan anything too in-depth just in case I need to change things around for the GM.