With the capture of Verandi Farley and several high-ranking Trossach members, the British wizarding world has finally caught a break. The rate of rogue werewolf attacks have started dropping at a steady rate and, hopefully, things will stay that way. The Ministry is starting to loosen some restrictions, like not arresting werewolves standing on the street for loitering, however there’s still an obvious power imbalance between wizardfolk and werewolves.
The Cotswolds pack are continuing to advocate for the rights of werewolves and petitioning to change the legislation that has been set in motion by the current Minister for Magic, whilst the remaining Trossachs members are trying to stay out of the spotlight and keep a low profile… for now.
Whilst the British wizarding world seems to have calmed down, the same cannot be said for over in Northern Europe where a rebellion of magical creatures has risen. The state of things has gotten so bad that the European Ministry has enacted protocols to protect those under eighteen whilst their adult witches and wizards fight to keep control of their countries.
Students from Durmstrang have been sent to Hogwarts to keep them safe and those not old enough to attend school have been sent to live with relatives or designated British Ministry officials outside of Europe for the time being.
Will the low rates of werewolf attacks in Britain continue? How long will Durmstrang students stay at Hogwarts? Will the creatures usurp the wizardfolk in Northern Europe? Only time will tell.
SEPTEMBER 2019 It's been a very long, eventful summer in the wizarding world. A baby was stolen, several high ranking Trossach members were imprisoned, and werewolf attacks have drastically dropped as a result. What will happen now school has returned?
MAY 2019 An attempt to capture the beta of the Trossachs has been launched. Were the Aurors successful in their mission? Go read more here!
Post by JACK O'CONNOR on Jun 26, 2019 11:21:10 GMT
With his trusty travel mug for coffee stashed in his messenger bag, Jack made his way towards The Thee Broomsticks, hoping to get it filled up. His coffee was nice at home, yes, but nothing beat a coffee made by somebody who had actually been trained to make them properly. It was expensive, but well-worth it in Jack's opinion.
Rounding the corner, a flash of red hair and a tall body caught Jack's eye, instantly causing his lips to draw into a serious line because he recognised that person. It was the same person Jack had been bugging for weeks on end with his letters to the Ministry, the same person Jack had been trying to get to see reason, and now he was standing mere feet away from Jack.
Never one to shy away from a challenge, Jack walked up to him, clearing his throat. "Mr. Linwood. You said you'd been deployed in Hogsmeade. Are you ready for that chat yet?" His voice wasn't threatening, nor was it particularly kind. Instead, it was filled with complete seriousness because the current werewolf situation wasn't a thing to joke about or talk about lightly. It was affecting far too many people, including his very own sister.
6'0". IRISH. BIG HEART. LOYAL. BRAVE. WORKAHOLIC. BISEXUAL. SINGLE. distinguishing features: a big scar runs across jack's left cheek credit for award goes to ollie! <3
Post by RICHARD LINWOOD on Jul 1, 2019 6:15:32 GMT
Richard was making his way through the streets of Hogsmeade, finishing up his morning patrol. The town was already bustling with life, on account of it being a Sunday, students using their chance to stock up on sweets and whatever the joke shop sold -- and making Richard's job much more complicated. He did tower above most of the crowd, being seven feet and all, but it wasn't exactly easy to spot a non-transformed werewolf in a mass of people. His gaze lingered on anyone who seemed even a little bit off: too filthy, with untrimmed nails, uncut hair, signs of lacking sleep or food. Anyone who led a less than pristine lifestyle was a subject. By that logic, he would have to be on the list of suspects too, as his hair was turning into a Linwood mane, and his sleep schedule was fucked.
As he walked past the Three Broomsticks, he considered popping in for a glass of something energizing to help him wake up. Alas, he didn't even reach the door when someone stopped him. 'Mr.Linwood' said the male voice and Richard made a sharp turn towards it. How did he-- It's the hair. It's always the hair. For a brief moment Richard considered inquiring to a muggle born about hair dye, but the thought was quickly dismissed as he tried to work out who was this man.
He looked about the same age as Richard, his face showing wrinkles of worry. 'Are you ready for that chat?' The cogs in Richard's brain turned and snapped in place. He wanted to let out an annoyed sigh, yet his face stayed motionless. As per usual, Richard Linwood was a statue carved in granite. It was a self-defense mechanism, a try to seem disinterested in everything to repel others. He was sure that this time it wouldn't work at all, considering the amounts of letters this man sent to his department alone.
"Jack O'Connor. You won't take no for an answer." Richard said, trying to hide any emotion from his voice. "This isn't the best place for this."
The way that Richard turned to face him was as sharp as a knife, perhaps meant to be intimidating, but it wasn't often that intimidation worked on Jack. He was stubborn as a bull and very rarely backed down, even in conflict. When he started Hogwarts and had been sorted into Gryffindor, it was a surprise to absolutely nobody. He suited the house to a T and his parents had predicted a lion in their midst since he was 'a youngin'.'
Although the man's face didn't twitch or show any signs of emotion, he was silent for long enough that Jack realised Richard didn't know recognise he was. It made sense given that they had been a year apart at Hogwarts and there was no face attached to the frequent letters Jack sent the Ministry, just a name. But Jack had faith that the man would figure it out soon because how many people had suggested a chat with Richard at Hogsmeade lately?
It appeared to click a moment later with Richard speaking like a glorified robot, his voice seemingly devoid of any feeling. "Well, I don't expect to have a chat in the middle of the street," Jack said, a hint of an amused smile sliding onto his lips. He wasn't stupid enough to believe that a ministry employee would openly talk about the current situation in such a public spot. "I was going to suggest the Hog's Head with a muffliato charm cast. Perhaps I could buy you a drink or two."
6'0". IRISH. BIG HEART. LOYAL. BRAVE. WORKAHOLIC. BISEXUAL. SINGLE. distinguishing features: a big scar runs across jack's left cheek credit for award goes to ollie! <3
Post by RICHARD LINWOOD on Jul 10, 2019 9:37:35 GMT
Richard Linwood really shouldn't have the title "Trainee Auror". He shouldn't be the one dealing with all the paperwork his higher-up's didn't want to deal with, he shouldn't be the one responding to panicked letters, he shouldn't be the one dealing with the likes of Jack O'Connor. He should be out on the field, in the front lines, tracking down rogue werewolves before they could cause any more trouble, and yet... The Ministry thought that he'd been a simple sheep farmer for the last 20 years, and if he wanted to keep that cover... Well, he'd just have to stay silent. Lucky for him, he was a Linwood, and there was nothing more characteristic of a Linwood man than silence.
He nodded at O'Connor's offer to head to the Hogs Head. The Inn was getting ready for its Grand Re-opening the following day, but there was still a seat available if you didn't mind the owner hurrying around and ordering his workers to move the furniture, which eventually came crashing down -- Richard had been there twice since he arrived, and both times something broke. The commotion could serve as a cover, drawing any wandering eyes away from the auror and professor, and with a muffliato charm...
"One moment." he said, before conjuring a patronus -- a Johnny rook -- and sending it off with a message to his superiors that he'd finished his patrol. "Now we can go." His wand disappeared into his right sleeve and he turned towards the Inn at the end of the street.
He tried to recall the contents of O'Connor's letters. Most of them were demanding to let werewolf students back into the castle so they could continue their education. Richard didn't want to admit it out loud, but he, too, thought that would have been the smart thing to do. He didn't know how it was to be a werewolf, but kicking minors out into the street and leaving them to fend for themselves, werewolves or not, was already putting them through hell. If they would be at school, the Ministry could keep a close eye on them, rather than worry about the next attack. Alas, the Ministry had their stance, and he was forced to obey if he wanted to keep his job.
They walked, surrounded by the sounds of the village, until Richard spoke up. "How are things at the castle?" Yes, he had met his eldest two nieces not too long ago, but there were a lot of things nobody told them.
Thankfully, Richard gave a curt nod at Jack's suggestion to go to the Hogs Head. From what he had heard, the inn was quieter than usual and the shady patrons were no longer, thanks to the new owner. This meant that they had slim to none chances of being approached and with the muffliato charm in effect, there was absolutely zero chance of them being overheard. It was the ideal location.
With his hands in his pocket, Jack waited patiently for Richard to carry out what he needed to, eyes following keenly as Richard produced his patronus. It was a bird of some kind, though Jack couldn't identify it exactly and after the patronus disappeared, Jack cleared his throat. "What type of bird was that?" he asked. It would help to look it up later, get an insight into why that particular bird was Richard's patronus. His own was a border collie, a hardworking herding dog. He'd had one growing up on the farm.
Apart from the sounds of the village, the echo of people's shoes clattering on the ground and the wind whistling through the trees, there was silence between Jack and Richard until finally, the redhead spoke up. "They're fine... it's busy. It always is, however, and now that it's heading towards Christmas, some of the students are getting restless. Ready for a break, I daresay," Jack told Richard with a polite smile.
Turning the corner, they were in front of the Hogs Head within moments and with a push of the front door, they were walking through the front door. One scope of the place told Jack that the new owner had been working his magic, so to speak. There was no more visible grime on the bar top, nor did it look like the chairs were about to collapse in on themselves at any moment. It was impressive, in all honesty. Jack never thought he'd see the day that the Hogs Head had been renovated and turned (or starting to be turned) into an establishment that he'd enjoy spending time at. "Mr. Linwood, if you'd like to find a table, I'll order us some drinks. What would you like?"
6'0". IRISH. BIG HEART. LOYAL. BRAVE. WORKAHOLIC. BISEXUAL. SINGLE. distinguishing features: a big scar runs across jack's left cheek credit for award goes to ollie! <3
Post by RICHARD LINWOOD on Jul 17, 2019 9:31:02 GMT
Richard wasn't surprised at all when Jack inquired about his patronus. The bird of prey was a Falkland native, and to Richard's knowledge, didn't live anywhere else, except, perhaps, muggle zoos. They were scavenger birds, feeding on corpses and any scraps of human food they could come by. "A Striated caracara," he told Jack as they began walking, "nasty devils." It was hard to find anything positive about these thieves, and Richard wasn't in the mood to figure out why this creature of all was the corporeal form of his patronus. That kind of self-analysis needed a weekend and at least one bottle of alcohol.
As they walked through the town in silence, snow began to fall from the grey sky. The snowflakes came down fast, twirling along with the whims of the December wind, landing right on everyone who wasn't hiding underneath a roof. In the few minutes that it took the duo to walk until the Hog's Head, snow had piled on Richard's shoulders, providing a sharp contrast against the black cloth of his woolen robe, and tangled into his red hair and beard. It was an unpleasant feeling, and reminded the man that he was long overdue for a visit to the barber. He'd figure that out later.
He nodded in agreement to Jack's statement. His mind conjured up images of the Christmas tree that his "adoptive family", the Cadigans, had every year, and then he faintly heard the bleating of sheep -- it was the middle of summer in Falklands during the holiday season. All bittersweet memories. A soft sigh escaped Richard's mouth as he tried to clear his mind before he got too upset and started blaming himself and the world for the fact that he couldn't have a nice, cozy Christmas.
"It should do them good, to go back home." he muttered as they entered the Hogs Head. It was almost empty, except for the owner standing behind the counter, elbow deep in flour as he made another pan of pastries. The Inn was shining -- the furniture was made from birch and pine wood, with thick light blue curtains by the small windows. There were small, round tables for two with padded chairs, and then there were larger tables with benches attached. The room turned a corner, but Richard didn't care much for what was there.
"A Hot Toddy, thank you." he said, before taking a seat by one of the round tables next to the windows, further away from the door and awaited Jack's arrival. Only when they both had sat down and had their drinks, he pulled out his wand, cast the Muffliato charm and turned his attention to Jack.
"I cannot influence anyone in the Ministry. My opinion isn't asked, nor does anyone care about it." he said, taking a sip of his drink, letting the heat of it run through him. "Twice I've been instructed to burn your letters upon receiving them." And twice he had disobeyed his orders, delivering the letters to his higher-up's by hiding them in a pile of other paperwork, because deep down he knew that O'Connor was right.
Post by JACK O'CONNOR on Jul 21, 2019 13:31:14 GMT
A striated carcara... did not tell Jack a single thing, and was obviously the scientific name for the bird. But Richard's add-on that they were 'nasty devils,' made Jack's brows raise because if that was what the owner of said patronus thought of it, then that practically spoke volumes of Richard's hidden character... maybe. Jack would have to get to know him better to see if Richard was as nasty as his patronus..
As they walked, Richard did not answer Jack's question beyond a nod, and the older man shoved his rapidly cold growing hands deep into his pockets of his navy, wool coat. He was wearing gloves, black ones his mother had so cheerily handed him last year over Christmas, but the snow had a severe bite to it and still managed to sneak past the knitted material. "I imagine this weather is only going to grow chillier," he murmured, filling the silence yet again. "Back at my home, in Ireland, we have the fireplace roaring most of the time over Christmas. My da used to make us chop firewood for it too, insisted it grew 'character.' He believed - still does believe, actually - that magic's a tool to help. It's not there to do everything for us."
Richard's answer to the statement that Jack had posed, hoping it led to small talk, was a nod and then a sigh. Why, Jack had no clue. But then finally, he gave him a short, precise answer. "I hope so. But the students who remain at Hogwarts, we'll try to make sure they have just as nice a time as those who return home to their families," Jack explained. He would floo home once over the holidays just to say hello to his ma, da and Maggie but for the most part, his time would be spent at the school, probably doing paperwork.
A hot toddy was a drink that Jack was well-acquainted with and he gave Richard a polite nod before approaching the counter, placing his travel mug on the bench. "One Hot Toddy, please... and a coffee, if you don't mind," Jack said, shooting the man behind the counter a kind smile as well a galleon and a couple of sickles. As he stood there, waiting for the beverages to be made, Jack's eyes swept over the room once more. It really was an improvement, what the new owner had done. It radiated warmth, a sense of home in a way. Jack would have to congratulate the owner on a job well done if he ever encountered them.
Once Jack returned to the table, he was ready to cast a non-verbal and wandless 'muffliato' but it appeared that Mr. Linwood had beat him to it. It was no big deal, especially as the conversation immediately was directed to Richard and the worth of his opinion at the ministry. "I don't expect you to influence anybody, Mr. Linwood... I know the auror department doesn't hold the power to change legislation," he replied calmly, sipping at his own coffee. "But as I told Derek - I mean, Mr. Van Leuuwen, the other day..." It was strange, referring to his ex-partner of three years so formally, but he needed to remain professional. "I need my voice to be heard, even if it's just one person listening at a time. I want people to try and... and see reason, to try and realise that by following the legislation and enforcing it... they are not doing the right thing. Killing people who are werewolves one night a week, it's wrong. Making them live in poverty, fighting for scraps, is wrong. Not a single thing the ministry is doing is right, and maybe if one person at a time listens... then one person will turn into several and that will turn into several ministry officials, fighting the good fight from within."
6'0". IRISH. BIG HEART. LOYAL. BRAVE. WORKAHOLIC. BISEXUAL. SINGLE. distinguishing features: a big scar runs across jack's left cheek credit for award goes to ollie! <3
Post by RICHARD LINWOOD on Jul 22, 2019 6:45:40 GMT
It was apparent from the start that Jack O'Connor wasn't one to tip-toe around hard subjects, no matter how uncomfortable they might be. As Jack bared his bleeding heart, Richard started feeling ill. His body stiffened up and his eyes began to wander, looking at anything except O'Connor's face. Something was stirring in his gut, something all too familiar... Guilt.
Richard had spent months ignoring the moral qualms he was had about the law of the land. Truth be told, he had a hard time putting himself into a werewolf's shoes and sympathize with their tragedy. The Linwoods as a family weren't known to be to socially adept, but Richard couldn't blame his upbringing for his inability to step over himself for a cause.
At this point in life, Richard Linwood was well off, with a roof above his head, access to a vault filled to the brim with golden coins, he had a stable and, more importantly, legal job, and if he really wanted, he could retire right then and there. The years he'd spent living in a dingy apartment complex, punching his neighbor -- a vampire -- straight in the fangs just so Richard wouldn't end up as the poor bastard's lunch, it all felt like a bad dream.
By now Jack had finished his small speech, but Richard was too lost in the guilt-ridden depths of his thoughts to answer just yet. He raised his glass up to his lips and took a large swig, the heat of the liquid and the strength of the alcohol scorching his throat.
It was far too easy to slip into ignorance and turn a blind eye to the discomfort of others, when you've got anything you'd ever want on a silver platter. He had grown compliant to the status quo, something that his younger self would never forgive him. And yet, he wasn't his younger self. Why should he sacrifice all that he has to gamble against a government, in hopes of chasing some greater good?
"You want a revolution." He finally said, taking another sip of his drink, "You'd ought to speak to Potter. He's famous for toppling governments." The famed Harry Potter was Richard's boss, but the man was far too busy to socialize with his department, so Richard had seen him twice at most. Not that he was upset, he wasn't exactly the sociable type himself.
"I'm not interested in jeopardizing my entire existence to play political games. I am not impacted by werewolf issues, and... I'm not keen on breaking the law for some abstract goal." He took a moment to consider his next words. His head and his heart were having a tug of war, where one kept reminding him that by agreeing to, well.. Anything O'Connor suggested, he would be putting his life on the line. The other was trying to appeal to his repressed emotions and to memories of his youth.
"This isn't just a matter of legislation, we both know that. Society as a whole despises werewolves, and that's not going to change as soon as a new decree is passed. Do you even have a plan?"
Post by JACK O'CONNOR on Jul 24, 2019 11:06:45 GMT
It was very transparent, as soon as Jack shared his very strong opinion about the Ministry and the approach they were currently taking towards werewolves, that he'd made the other man uncomfortable. It was written all over Mr. Linwood, with the way he stiffened like a corpse and refused to meet Jack's eyes at first, his own darting all over the place. Instead of wavering and backing off though, Jack's gaze stayed level on Mr. Linwood's face as the other man appeared to get lost in his own thoughts. Jack wasn't some coward, he wasn't about to back down on something he believed in. He wasn't weak.
A revolution wasn't the word Jack would have chosen to describe his mission, but... it was apt. "I would have assumed that out all of those letters, at least one would have been forwarded onto Mr. Potter. Perhaps I thought wrong... or maybe more than just the few letters you've been ordered to burn have met a similar fate," Jack said with a shrug. He was planning on addressing his next letter to Mr. Potter directly, as soon as he figured out the perfect words to say. He wanted a response, and being polite was not the way to go about it. Those letters would probably end up ashes as well. He needed a more... aggressive tactic than that. He just had to think of one.
"Isn't it fortunate you are where you are today, Mr. Linwood? That you were able to attend Hogwarts, get a proper education, which no doubt led you to where you are today, training to be an auror. Where do you think you would be without it?" He paused, barely giving Mr. Linwood a chance to answer before continuing, "You would, more than likely, be living like a muggle. You wouldn't know how to control this gift the world has bestowed upon you... and reading books only teaches you so much." Shaking his head as he wrapped up this talk about hypothetical situations, Jack moved onto his primary point. "That's what's happening to all my students who have been kicked out of Hogwarts for being a werewolf, something that is beyond their control. They did not choose to be bitten, andthey have no idea how to properly use their magic because they have no access to a learning institution. It's forbidden that they set foot in one, thanks to the ministry. They will never be afforded the same opportunities as you, as myself, all because they were attacked. How is that fair? Do you truly believe this is just? That werewolves are evil and deserve no rights?"
He had gone off into a tangent again and anger was taking a hold of him, boiling his blood beneath the surface of his skin. Jack's fingers firmly wrapped around the coffee mug in front of him and it was a surprise it didn't shatter with the force. "A plan? Besides trying to make people see reason?" he said, letting out a sharp exhale. "No. But I am hoping by talking to each member of the auror department, one by one, that I can make you realise what you're doing is wrong. Maybe then the way the auror department treats werewolves will change, even just a little, which in turn may influence the way society treats werewolves. Maybe werewolves won't be vilified so much for things they cannot help, like sleeping on the streets when they have nowhere to go. They won't be arrested or fined for loitering, a fine that most cannot pay because they're forbidden from legal work."
6'0". IRISH. BIG HEART. LOYAL. BRAVE. WORKAHOLIC. BISEXUAL. SINGLE. distinguishing features: a big scar runs across jack's left cheek credit for award goes to ollie! <3
Post by RICHARD LINWOOD on Jul 27, 2019 9:04:10 GMT
Richard wouldn't be surprised at all if the few letters he'd tried to smuggle to Potter had ended up in smoke, as O'Connor's name was on the department's unofficial blacklist, next to deluded old women who were convinced that there were basilisks in their leaky pipes and people who criticized every sneeze of every auror in the Islands. At some point, none of these letters were even opened and went straight to the fire, because there were more important matters to attend to.
He didn't even get to comment on the letters, when Jack started spilling his guts out. This time, the professor was out for blood, turning his political stance into a personal attack against Richard Linwood. A mistake. His body stiffened up once more, but this time rather than avoiding Jack's gaze, his hazy blue eyes were staring right at the other man as if he was trying to turn him into a block of ice just by looking.
How dare he assume what I've been through? Does he think I graduated and spent twenty years dilly-dallying and decided to become an auror for shits and giggles? How dare he? I didn't lose a hand for this! Richard thought, his fists aching to meet with O'Connor's face. If he was younger by ten years and a little bit more drunk, he'd have grabbed the other man by his throat right after the second sentence, but he was older and wiser now.
And he couldn't deny to himself that O'Connor was right. Once more, to Richard's great dismay, every single word was right. From the lack of education to the scapegoat status that werewolves had, everything was true. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and let the anger simmer down before he said anything. The tension between them could be cut by a knife.
"I get it." He said after what felt like an eternity and a half. "I have been stationed in Hogsmeade for an indefinite amount of time, so I won't be returning to London any time soon." Richard couldn't sit around idly anymore. He wanted to help. He just...didn't know how.
"You should consider becoming a politician." He wasn't good with words or speeches as the man sitting across from him was. But he was an excellent dueler, though Linwood was sure that Jack wouldn't appreciate any more violence directed towards werewolves.
"I am ready to help if it doesn't involve me talking," he stated before closing his mouth to consider his words. There was something nagging at the back of his mind. It was his pride. He was convinced that Jack thought of him as someone who'd lived a sheltered life, some limp piece of meat that has a powerful position in the world. Yet, Richard wasn't ready to tell his whole sob story... But I could show him.
Richard hated his wooden hand, or, to be more precise, he hated the absence of a real one. His brother's craftsmanship was wonderful, if a little bit rough, and the magic on it functioned perfectly, but it was always a reminder of his past. He never showed it to others if he could avoid it. But this time it felt necessary.
He pulled off his black leather gloves, first his left hand, revealing a perfectly normal hand, albeit with scabs and small scars, and then his right hand. His right hand was made of a dark wood, polished and shining in the lights of the inn. It had sharp, square, rigid forms, in stark contrast to the rounded lines of flesh, and it was fastened to his hand with a system of leather belts. He placed his hands in plain view before speaking, his voice low and steady.
"And if you don't make any more assumptions about my life."
Jack could feel the piercing gaze of Richard's eyes on his face, the way that the man was trying to turn him into an ice sculpture, and Jack's stared straight back at him. He wasn't cowered by Richard's gaze, and he refused to back down for trying to simply make his point, even if it did involve bringing the man's personal life into this whole argument. He watched carefully as he saw what he believed to be Richard taking control of his temper, with the way his eyes closed and the way Richard's shirt moved as he inhaled deeply. It was similar to what Jack did in those moments where he lost his cool, although nowadays he saved those times for when he was in private and away from prying eyes.
"Good," he replied shortly after .Richard said 'I get it.' He was glad the other man was able to understand what he was saying, and he nodded as Richard shared that he was stationed in Hogsmeade. "For werewolf-related business?" He wondered exactly how busy the man would be, given that werewolves on transformed once a month. What would Richard be doing the rest of the days? Seeing if he could find some werewolves in their human form and take them in for questioning? Or worse... "I hope that you won't be too harsh on those who don't deserve it. People - werewolves - are just trying to get by. Being fined... like I said, it doesn't do anything to help. If anything, they'll just try and use illegal means to gather the money to pay, or ignore the fine altogether."
Richard's suggestion that he should be a politician had Jack letting out a surprised chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm not in the habit of lying, and I've heard that's what all the best politicians are... liars," he replied, before he nodded once more as Richard volunteered to help. Good, he'd convinced at least once member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to be on his side with relative ease... 99% of the department to go. Jack just hoped they were as quick to listen as Richard was when confronted face to face. "I'm glad to hear that you're able to at least listen to my perspective on things, Richard. I'd hate to have done that entire speech for nothing." A smile tweaked at the corner of Jack's lips. He was being sincere but... giving speeches, continuing to argue with people, it definitely got tiring at times and making light of the situation did held.
At Richard's next sudden move, Jack watched closed and carefully as the man eased his black leather gloves off. Perhaps he was getting warm, however... that assumption proved to be incorrect as Richard took the glove off his right hand, revealing... a hand made not of skin and bones, but of wood instead. Had he lost it in the war? No, he couldn't have. From what he recalled, Richard was younger than himself. For a brief second, guilt washed over him. It was evident that Richard, like himself, had faced hardship. Nobody lost a hand having an easy life. "My apologies. I won't make any more assumptions about your life," he replied.
6'0". IRISH. BIG HEART. LOYAL. BRAVE. WORKAHOLIC. BISEXUAL. SINGLE. distinguishing features: a big scar runs across jack's left cheek credit for award goes to ollie! <3
