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Post by raoul on Dec 27, 2011 1:35:11 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i583.photobucket.com/albums/ss279/legendskseeker/fk5qwnjpg.png); padding: 30px; border: #5d4847 solid 30px; ]DROVE TO THE END OF TOWN  OUTFIT: DIRTY JEANS, GREASY SHIRT. TAGGED: GWEN --- HE FORGOT HOW MUCH HE HATED THIS FUCKING TOWN. the air, the people, the scenery. there was a reason why he hadn't been here is five years. raoul never was cut off for an american lifestyle. somehow, valkyrie, california seemed to be the capital for foreigners. more than when he last remembered. he himself was mexican, but it seemed like valkyrie blew up and housed all kinds of nationalities now. raoul had a brief stint here in valkyrie. his... "family" were running drugs in valkyrie and he decided to go to the university. he was there for probably a grand total of three months before he made some stupid decisions. raoul wasn't involved in his father's drug cartel. not since he was fourteen and raoul had the suspicion that his father staged when he was stabbed int he back trying to sell drugs. however, raoul had bitter feelings towards anyone he shared blood with. he sold his half sister, maggie, out and basically handed her to the rival cartel, the castillos. maggie was teaming up with the italian group in valkyrie by then, so raoul knew he was a walking dead man and split town quick. looking back, raoul did feel bad about selling her out. maggie had never really done anything to him personally, he was just angry, and bitter, and had so much hatred for his brother and father that he had an error of judgement. but, he knew he had burned all the bridges and he'd be dead before he could apologize, so leaving was the only option. through the vine, he eventually heard that maggie's precious italian ended up saving her. that made him feel a little bit better. at least she survived.
he ended up in spain, in which he stayed there for a while. he probably still would be there if it wasn't for the trouble that followed him because of his last name, corinthos. quietly, he left spain and decided to just go by victor barros. victor, being his middle name, and barros being his mother's maiden name. now, he was just a mexican traveling through out europe. of all places, he ended up in russia, where for the most part, he stuck out like a sore thumb, but even though raoul never intentionally went looking for trouble, trouble always ended up finding him. he blamed his dna. to survive, since raoul wasn't in one place long enough to hold a job, he gambled. poker was his game. it was a universal game, too. anyone in the world knew how to play. raoul used his winnings for staying nights in hostels, new clothes, food, those kinds of things. he was always a resourceful one. he had never been in a bad place before. of all the people in russia, raoul friended twins. staz and sasha who happened to be the kids of the head of the russian bratva. the same one that was occupying valkyrie, california. though valkyrie had no emotional pull on him anymore, he knew the city, and he knew the crime was getting out of control. to them, he was victor barros, just a poor mexican that wandered into russia. he fooled around with sasha a lot, but they both liked him. he gambled and drank with him and raoul knew what it was like to feel normal and just be with people that didn't judge you based on what they heard of his father.
however, he just recently had heard them talking about getting the giovannis. more specifically, his sister, maggie. that feeling of guilty came back and some kind of feeling he could say was loyalty. even though maggie would be the first one to knife him to death, he felt some sort of obligation to tell her what he was hearing. as much as raoul loved gambling, he didn't have money to get back to america. and how could he when he didn't have a visa? he was able to the last time because he was going to school. raoul had to call in a favor back to valkyrie. jorge, who owned a body shop in valkyrie said he would hire him back so raoul could come back to america. the deal was though, that raoul had to work. raoul was a pretty good mechanic. and jorge was the only guy that would hire raoul with all the tattoos on his arms. when everything was checked out, raoul stole money from his new russian friends and took off back to valkyrie, and that was where he stood today.
he didn't have balls yet to approach his sister. and it wasn't like he was working on borrowed time, they weren't planning on doing anything soon, and there was no way for them to connect him to maggie. he was just victor barros, who friended them then cheated them out of thousands and thousands of dollars. raoul rented a shitty apartment just to keep on the downlow and worked for jorge. today, when he went in, raoul gave him a slip of paper. someone's car broke down outside of town. on the paper was the name, and the mile marker near where the car had broken down. "si no puede solucionar por ahí, traerlo aquí.." (if you can't fix it out there, bring it back here.) jorege told him. "sí, entiendo." (yes, i understand). raou said back and looked down at the paper. gwendolyn de luca. as raoul hopped in the pick-up truck he wondered whether the woman was old or young. he was a guy, could you blame him?
it took raoul about fifteen minutes to leave valkyrie and he just started to pay more attention to the mile marker along the side of the road, though he was sure he would see someone by their car on the side of the road, so he wasn't worried about not locating her. another fifteen minutes went by before he saw something int he distance, probably a couple miles later, he saw a girl outside of her car and he pulled the truck in front of her car. he shut the engine off and hopped out of the car. he pulled her information she must have given jorge out of his pocket and said, "you're gwendolyn de luca? car troubles, huh? mind if i take a look?" he asked and motioned towards the hood of the car. well, she wasn't old. in fact, she looked rather sophisticated. she was very good-looking. he might hate valkyrie, but the women... he loved.
IT'S HERE WHERE YOU SHOWED ME HOW |
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Post by gwen on Dec 28, 2011 0:14:41 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i583.photobucket.com/albums/ss279/legendskseeker/fk5qwnjpg.png); padding: 30px; border: #383f4a solid 30px; ]In a town that’s cold and gray  OUTFIT: HERE. TAGGED: RAOUL --- GWENDOLYN DE LUCA WAS ALONE. She was always alone. She had been alone for a long time. She was one of those women who bought themselves a cupcake on their birthdays and blew out a single candle making the wish to not be alone. Everyone she ever cared about was gone now. After her father was murdered, she was left with nothing. Her father's paycheck as a Professor was not that great, even with his renowned publications and great respect. Art is severely under appreciated in this country. His real money came from the deals but that money was located in a secret offshore account she had no way of accessing and yes, Gwen had known about her father's business. She was essentially his apprentice. Her skill for forging Matteo, her father, always attributed to Gwen gaining Dominique's artistic talents (her mother had been a painter). He had never had a steady hand. She had become an orphan but had no where to go except into foster care. Before the end of her first night in a group home, she had already run away and broken into the storage garage where the state had moved her father's things. They sold all of his art, including many of her mother's works. His notebooks and clothes were all that remained. Seeing his prized possessions taken was like killing him all over again, especially her mother's paintings. She knew how he loved those. She hid in that garage for the night and in the morning, a stranger entered. He was a young adult male, in his late twenties. Charming smile, one of those guys that were too slick for their own good. He told her he would help her.
His name was Vince. He had known her father. He was an art thief. and a damn good one but was never particularly talented at forgery which is required to become truly infamous but said that if she helped him, he would help her track down her father's lost art and her mother's stolen paintings. He also, of course, allowed Gwen to continue her unofficial education and live in style. She accepted the offer changing her name to Gwendolyn (she wanted to remain a Gwen for her father) Kai De Luca. De Luca being similar to her mother's maiden name. Her birth name was Guinevere Martinez. She had been named after a painting. Her father's favorite. A painting she had still not found a trace of. Vince became like an uncle to her, as well as a teacher. He was the one who truly got her into the criminal world but he was also more... hardcore? than she was, if that was the right word. Gwen had been... she had a problem, a problem she had wanted to move on from, but instead of letting it go, Vince had killed the man who caused Gwen's.... problem.
Gwen took the money she had earned from various jobs and cut off all her ties with Vince. Part of her understood why he had done what he had done, part of her could not handle murder. Gwen was a criminal but blood shed was not acceptable. She saw it as uninventive, over done, non-original, lacked intelligence or finesse. She hated it. She missed him the whole time she was separate from him, Vince had been there when she needed someone and had kept his word and found a few of her father's collection, although her mother's paintings were still lost to him. She had only found one of her mother's paintings, it hung in her apartment above her bed. She needed to find the others though. She did see Vince once more. She had received a coded message that informed her he was dying of kidney failure. She went back to see him, to forgive him. After a long talk, he told her look to her left. She did, there was what looked like a medium sized canvas covered in tarp. He told her to go look at it. Gwen uncovered the canvas and immediately began to tear up. It was one of her mother's paintings. It was the painting of her father, holding her as an infant, cradled. Gwen covered her mouth with her hand for a moment before kneeling down beside it and then asking Vince where he had found it. His voice was weak as he was dying. He told her he never gave up his promise to her. She was like a niece to him. Mateo was like a brother and that he had finally gotten a bit of a lead. The others should be found soon. He told her he had some information on her father's murder before he fell asleep and never woke up. Looking back, she wished he had been able to tell her what he knew, but still losing him was worse. The last person in the world who cared about her had died that night.
Now all she had was her job. She had her job at the art museum, preserving and restoring old pieces. And she had her job forging and verifying. She had her love of art. She had her apartment, she had a cat... that was all she needed. Except for right now... she also needed a car that worked. Gwen had been driving back from LA from an art deal. She had a beautiful piece in the passengers seat, the canvas rolled up in an air tight container. But just about a half hour outside of Valkyrie, her car of course, decided to stop working. She had called for help and now was just waiting. She leaned into her car and checked the time through the open window of the car... hopefully the help would get there soon. Sun was going to be setting soon and she had sort of had plans for the night. Nothing different from her usual nights but still. She was a rigidly scheduled person. She turned around as a tow pulled up. Thank god. She smiled politely as a young man, looked about her age, came out of the truck "you're gwendolyn de luca? car troubles, huh? mind if i take a look?" Gwen gestured at the car behind her, "Yes, please. And you are?" She asked turning to continue facing him as he walked over to the car, "The car just began making an asphyxiating sound before becoming completely inutile."
We will have a sunny day |
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Post by raoul on Jan 1, 2012 1:18:58 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i583.photobucket.com/albums/ss279/legendskseeker/fk5qwnjpg.png); padding: 30px; border: #5d4847 solid 30px; ]DROVE TO THE END OF TOWN OUTFIT: DIRTY JEANS, GREASY SHIRT. TAGGED: GWEN --- RAOUL SCRATCHED HIS CHIN SLIGHTLY AS GWENDOLYN MOTIONED HIM TO HER CAR. "my name is raoul," he stated when she asked for his name. she explained to him that it was making noises before it stopped working. he popped the hood of the car and black smoke filtered out at him. he coughed and waved it away, though it took a few moments for the smoke to get out of his line of vision. "white smoke means something is usually boiling, black smoke, like this, means burning," he started to explain to her. when he was called out for fixes and pick-ups like this, he usually liked to explain to the customers what was going on as he was seeing it. black smoke meant he was probably gonna have to tow it if he couldn't fix it out here. he jogged back to his truck and pulled out a rag. burning meant hot, and he wasn't ready to burn his hand trying to find the problem. going back to the hood, raoul first checked out the engine. he could tell that there was some kind of liquid on it. moving pass the engine block was where the head gasket was. he continued to look around it and quickly found the problem. the gasket was leaking and going into the engine. blown gasket. meaning he couldn't fix it out here on the side of the road, he'd have to tow it back to the shop.
he forgot how much he loved working on cars. for the past five years, he hadn't even touched an engine. the excitement of finding what was wrong, and learning how to fix it was what made him him. he didn't have a family it felt like, so he had to find his own hobby. especially after he was convinced, his father tried killing him. it was when he was fourteen and when he was younger, he was starved for his father attention. his and j.r's mother was the only woman the man's heartless soul seemed to love. when his mother died, raoul was just a reminder of her. j.r. was the prized first born and raoul was the burden. he tried. at one point, he wanted to be a part of the drug business. fourteen years old and his dad sent him on a drug deal. it was supposed to be easy. it was just a simple drop-up. instead, raoul was jumped and robbed of all the cocaine he was carrying, the money, and was stabbed in the back. the neighborhood he was delivering too wasn't mexico's finest so raoul was actually surprised he woke up in a hospital.he had been beaten and left with a large diagonal scar on his back. his dad didn't even bother visiting him in the hospital, instead told him when he got back what a fool he was, how he couldn't do the simplest of tasks, and that he should have known that raoul couldn't handle this. raoul was then convinced that his father just set him up. he then wouldn't have to deal with raoul in his work-life. so now, it was rewarding that raoul was excelling in something all on his own. he taught himself how to understand cars. he could take engines apart and put them back together again with no problem at all. the best thing was it was all self-taught. no influences of his father at all beside the fact he learned these things in spite of him.
raoul pulled his head out from under the hood and closed it. "so, the good news is i know your problem. you got a damaged head gasket, it's leaking it's oil into the engine, burning, and causing the smoke," he patted the hood and looked at her, "the bad news is, i can't fix it out here. i'll have to tow it back to the shop so we can fix it there." he went back to the truck and pulled out the form she had to fill out so he could take it back to the shop. clipping it onto the clipboard he walked back over to her and handed it to her and a pen. "you just got to fill this form out. basic information before we can tow and fix it. i'll hook your car up to the truck while you fill it out and i think we will be good to go." he left her to do her thing as he back the truck up closer to the front of her car so he could easily hook it up. he was glad that he was able to figure the problem out because the sun was setting and figuring things out at night were a bitch. when the car was successfully hooked to the back of the truck.
"you can call someone to pick you up at the shop. they can be there then by the time we get back." raoul took the form back from her, checked it over just to make sure she got down everything the shop needed. "everything looks good. hope you don't mind riding shotgun," he said and smiled. he already did his professional bit. he got a half hour to look forward riding in a car with a pretty girl. cars and girls. that was the american guys' two favorite things?
IT'S HERE WHERE YOU SHOWED ME HOW |
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Post by gwen on Jan 14, 2012 1:14:25 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i583.photobucket.com/albums/ss279/legendskseeker/fk5qwnjpg.png); padding: 30px; border: #383f4a solid 30px; ]In a town that’s cold and gray OUTFIT: HERE. TAGGED: RAOUL --- YOU KNOW THOSE PEOPLE WHO COULD SEE THE MOST beautiful things in the smallest and simplest things in life? Gwen was not one of them. No, she was jealous of those people. Once, while she was staying in New York, a gallery in SoHo put on an "up and coming" show. It displayed the work of local photographers. There was one photographer there, a girl named Sara Kuphal. Gwen had quite liked her. Ms. Kuphal was not one of those artist types that did not shower or tried to be overly cryptic to seem deeper than they actually were. She was simple. When Gwen asked her why she liked taking pictures, her answer was straight forward and personal without being convoluted with bull about artists of the past and inspiration. All she said was, "I like showing people the world I see." Sara would take pictures of small things, sometimes things that would seem dirty or part of the bad side of life and society but just in her technical work, it made them beautiful. Gwen would never be able to look at dirty water in a gutter near the road beautiful, but when Sara photographed it, it sparkled of dark blues and purples, teals, grays and black with light reflecting as if they were stars in the darkest of nights. It was truly beautiful. Gwen needed those sort of things to be pointed out to her. Simple beauty. Simple joys, because honestly, she saw nothing attractive about most things outside of the world of art. She looked out from her window at the museum and all she saw was death, green house gases, road rage, litter and a world falling apart because of corporate greed and political confusion, and instability.
It was probably one of many reasons she didn't associate much with the outside world. She didn't see much else, aside from high culture, worth anything. Like, for example, and she was not judging, truly she wasn't but, she could never understand how someone could ever be satisfied being a car mechanic. Same reason Gwen could never look at that gutter and see something beautiful without someone forcing her to. Gwen would never be able to look at the inside of a car without focusing on the black, twisted, greasy, oily, smokey, mess of the thing. She was blinded to science of it, the incredible nature of energy, and she could not even see how someone might enjoy being able to fix something that's broken, even though her official job was restoring art that had been damaged by age, dust, water, etc. In a way, she and this mechanic had a similar job. He fixed cars, she fixed art. And perhaps, to him, cars were art.
Gwen watched as Raoul lifted up the hood of the car. She put the side of her hand, the spaced near her thumb to her nose, covering a bit of the smell with her own perfume, something must have burnt. "white smoke means something is usually boiling, black smoke, like this, means burning," See? Told you. She took a small step back away from the car and nodded, "Right, lovely." She said sarcastically, her tone showing hints of frustration although clearly directed at the car, not at the man. She sighed slightly as he ran back to his truck. As he did so Gwen opened the door and pulled out her purse. She leaned onto one foot, shifting her weight as she pulled out her cell phone, just to check the time, allowing her purse to hang around her elbow. She hated watches. She did not know what it was about them, but she hated them. Clocks, she didn't mind those, especially large antique ones but, watches annoyed her. Plus, she did not like having things around her wrists, a small loosely fit bracelet now and then was fine but a heavy watch would make her feel like she was in hand cuffs. She waited as Raoul checked things out, checking her email as she stood. Got to love technology, she only looked up when the hood was being closed. "so, the good news is i know your problem. you got a damaged head gasket, it's leaking it's oil into the engine, burning, and causing the smoke," Gwen couldn't help but raise her eyebrows a bit, that was good news? "the bad news is, i can't fix it out here. i'll have to tow it back to the shop so we can fix it there." She had been expecting that. Gwen sighed slightly and nodded, "That's fine... do you have any idea how long it will take to fix in the shop?" She asked as she took the clipboard from him.
Gwen nodded as she looked down at the form. She walked a bit further off the road to allow him to hook up the car. She glanced back at it, the painting... should she get it out now? No, it'll gain attention if she makes it stay with her. It'll be fine. She looked back down at the form and filled out her insurance and credit information before she walked back over to him and handed him the clipboard and forms, completed. "you can call someone to pick you up at the shop. they can be there then by the time we get back." "Of course" Gwen nodded but in her mind she could not help but realize there was no one she could call. She would just have to call for a taxi or something. One of the clean ones, she didn't care paying more but she did mind dirty places. "everything looks good. hope you don't mind riding shotgun," Gwen walked over to the truck and looked at the passenger's seat for a moment. Mild OCD acting up she had to ask, "Is it clean?" Her tone wasn't mean, just curious, maybe a little worried. She just wanted to make sure there was no grease or anything on the seat that would rub into her clothes. Regardless of the answer, she placed a part of a newspaper down, Gwen scrunched her nose a bit before forcing her body to climb into the truck, she sat down on the paper before looking over at Raoul in the drivers seat, She glanced down before looking back at him and adding, "It's just to be safe... nice clothes and all." She spoke while letting her purse sit on her lap before she reached and pulled the seat belt across her torso. God, she hoped she didn't sound like one of those girls whose whole lives were clothes.
We will have a sunny day |
[/td][/tr][/table] TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN @ CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY REGINA SPEKTOR [/center] |
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Post by raoul on Jan 25, 2012 15:10:07 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i583.photobucket.com/albums/ss279/legendskseeker/fk5qwnjpg.png); padding: 30px; border: #5d4847 solid 30px; ]DROVE TO THE END OF TOWN OUTFIT: DIRTY JEANS, GREASY SHIRT. TAGGED: GWEN ---HE WASN'T QUITE SURE HOW LONG IT WOULD TAKE TO FIX HER CAR. "it depends. if we have the right gasket for your car, then by tomorrow night. if not, maybe a couple days until we get it in." raoul knew how stressful it was without a car. well, maybe not personally since he hadn't owned his own car in over five years, but he knew how much value that came with owning one. it got you everywhere you needed to go. clearly, gwen was out of town, because she was coming back into valkyrie, so her job or whatever, took her places. when he first high-tailed it to spain, he did feel helpless for the first couple weeks without his bike. it's one of those things that you take for granted until you realized you're without it. raoul wished he had something better to offer gwen, but that was really all he could say. mechanics were like cops. you can't promise anything because there could always be some kind of a disappointment when it came to fixing cars.
though it seemed like raoul was living his life again, of all place, valkyrie, he was actually really terrified of walking around town. he was being a little bitch and haven't tried to find maggie yet. though, he wouldn't have to look far. it didn't take long once he got back that he learned his sister was an owner of a strip club. or, he's sorry, a "burlesque" club. whatever, same difference with better women. but it's not like he could just walk in there. sure, he might be fawned over by some of the dancers considering he was a good looking mexican, but then it would take a whole five seconds for maggie to realize her brother was here and shoot him on sight. raoul sort of valued his life right now, and a suicide mission wasn't in the cards. he was thinking a public space. like... a busy street or a park. just find her walking through her daily life and talk to her. he was back legally in the country essentially to warn her and he hadn't yet. but, as far as he knew, those psycho russian siblings weren't in valkyrie. raoul wasn't really on the "in" with crime talk, especially on the russian front. so, he was assuming that maggie was ok for now. though, raoul did kind of stupid he flew all the way here to valkyrie from moscow, russia. clearly, if maggie was able to get out of the castillo situation, a russian threat really wouldn't phase here. then again, he played cards with these russians, drank with them, slept with one, and they really didn't joke around. they were maniacs. funny, he always found himself in a room full of criminals.
raoul wasn't a criminal, and technically hadn't done anything illegal in all his life. well, besides mexico. he wondered if maybe that was a mistake on his part. his corinthos last name would follow him until the day he died. even though his father was broke and old, it was still all in "the name." his father might not be as successful as he was five years ago since maggie took all his clients with her when she married into the giovanni family, but he was still... feared by a lot of mexicans. it was clear from his father that he never wanted raoul in the family business and he had a nasty scar on his back to prove it. but there was a time in raoul's teenage life where he really wondered why his father hated him so much. what did raoul do? was he really just the unlucky second-born son? he had j.r., so what was the point of having raoul around? his second strike was that he was the second-born son to a wife juan actually loved. but then she died, or killed was more like it. raoul was too young to ever really know his mother, and he did wish that he had memories he could hold onto her. every now and again he'd catch a scent of something that made him stop and wonder where he smelled that before. or he'd hear a mexican medley that seemed familiar, even if he never heard of it before. were thought glimpses of his mother that he was too young to remember? raoul wished a lot of things, but his first one was always that he wished his mother was still alive.
raoul opened up the driver's door and climbed in. right before he started the truck, he noticed gwen standing just outside the door. "Is it clean?" he would have expected her to say anything, but that was definitely not one of the questions he'd thought she'd ask. he chuckled for a moment and shrugged. "um... i think so?" he was completely amused as she took some newspaper and placed it on the seat before she climbed into the truck. she looked back at him. "It's just to be safe... nice clothes and all." he nodded, still staring at her, smiling a little. snapping out of it, he turned the key in the ignition and shook his head. "i know what you mean," he joked and patted his own white t-shirt that had several grease spots on it, and was probably stark white at some point. he started pressing the truck forward, back on the highway until he could turn back around to get on the other side, back into town. once he was able to get turned around, he glanced back over to gwen. "so, you work out of town, or something?" typical conversation he would have with a customer and stranger. he really didn't know her and sitting in a truck driving back to town would be awkward. about all he knew was that she didn't like to get dirty. he found that kind of funny.
IT'S HERE WHERE YOU SHOWED ME HOW |
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Post by gwen on Feb 1, 2012 16:12:01 GMT -6
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i583.photobucket.com/albums/ss279/legendskseeker/fk5qwnjpg.png); padding: 30px; border: #383f4a solid 30px; ]In a town that’s cold and gray OUTFIT: HERE. TAGGED: RAOUL --- GWENDOLYN WAS FAIRLY NEW TO VALKYRIE. SHE HAD COME in order to do her work but mostly, she figured, with the criminal hub the city was becoming after the earthquake, that she might be able to find out what happened to her parents, or at least what happened to her father but somehow, she had a feeling in her gut that the two murders had to be related. Her mother, Dominique, was murdered when Gwen was little. When Dominique was getting into her car, as soon as she started the ignition, the car exploded, killing her instantly. The police had no leads. They gave it their best but it became a cold case. Gwen was so young at the time, she doesn't remember her mother really. What she does remember is her father after her mother's death. Mateo always just told Gwen her mother had died in a car accident, but in secret he conducted his own investigations of what happened. Dominique's death nearly destroyed him and he needed to know what had happened. He was obsessed and wrote everything he discovered into his notebooks. And it was only because of those notebooks that Gwen had any idea her mother's death was not an accident.
Her father was not neglectful or bad to Gwen. He treated his daughter like a princess. They lived in a decent apartment in New York, their rather modest apartment was trumped by the priceless art pieces and artifacts on display. They're home looked like a museum. Gwen was home schooled. She never really had to play with the kids her own age. She might meet a few when out walking but over all it was just her and her dad. Although she did get to meet a lot of his students, a few even babysat her. Gwen had probably the best education money could buy for free. She was seven and reading the writings of DaVinci in it's original Italian. Was fluent in all of the romantic languages by at eleven (she was taught at the right age). She even sat in on her father's classes, taking notes, and writing the papers and taking the exams to test herself. She was mature for her age, and yet her favorite food, no matter how sophisticated her palette was always peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Her father really made a connection with her and instilled his passion for art and history into her. She loved him for it. In fact, he was so dedicated to being her father that he slowly began to move on from her mother's murder but one day when Gwen was 13, she found his notebooks. That was when she learned her mother was murdered and that her father had been trying to figure out who and why? She cried. Gwen was not a crier, even as a child she very rarely cried.
Anyways, her father took the torch again, began re-examining. It was a year later that he was murdered, so you see? It was too much of a coincidence to not be connected. Gwen knew they had to be related, but she did not have the sources. She was a brilliant forger and art expert, no one could deny that but she couldn't shake a man down, even if he was unarmed and she had a gun to his head. She didn't like blood, she didn't like death or screaming. She just... she needed to know what happened to her family. That was why she was in Valkyrie. Maybe someone here could help. If she could figure out how and who to ask. Right now, she had only just gotten herself comfortable and moved into her loft. She got her legal, cover job set up at the museum. When she was ready, she would be ready to move forward with everything. "i know what you mean," The man replied to her comment about the clothes, nodding down at his own, rather stained clothes. She forced a small smile of amusement before looking forward, her hands resting on her lap on either side of her purse as the truck began down the street.
She used the side mirror to glance back at her car being pulled behind them, turning back around only when she heard the man speak again. "so, you work out of town, or something?" Gwen glanced at the man before looking out in front of them, the road was practically empty as the sun was beginning to set. I was actually very pretty, forests on either side, and you could see the beginnings of a bay off to the right through the trees. Like no buildings around. She looked back at Raoul and shook her head slightly, "No, actually. I work at the art museum in restoration and conservation." She replied only half honestly. "I was only out of town to procure a specific piece for an upcoming exhibit." She added, this time just flat out lying. She loved her job, both of them really. It was just something she felt she needed to do. When she was around art, it was like her father was still around her. Gwen's mind drifted for a moment before looking up at the road just as a deer decided to walk into the road and stare at the on coming truck, "LOOK OUT!"
We will have a sunny day |
[/td][/tr][/table] TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN @ CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY REGINA SPEKTOR [/center] |
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