Fabrice Georges Coombs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ofcatsandfate) wrote2014-05-24 06:37 pm
ofcatsandfate) wrote2014-05-24 06:37 pm
Entry tags:
Meandering through town (Open)
Even out of the hospital and on his way to recovery, people still insist on treating him like he's fragile. He visited Siren Coven Wildlife Refuge and Zoo to see about coming back to work, only to be told he still has at least another week of leave and a psych evaluation before he can fully return to his normal routine. He understands, but he can't help but sigh and pout, even under his mother's fond, exasperated gaze, as he makes his way out.
He hates feeling so useless; he's making a decent recovery, thanks to both medicine and the potions and charms he's taken. He has several scars across his abdomen that seem to be more severe and haven't yet let up, even with the assistance of magic. His nose wrinkles as he tries, again, to make sense of that night; he remembers with clarity only a flash of silver and purple - everything else remains a blur. He still doesn't think he was stabbed, despite what the various tabloids across town say.
And now Moira is missing, presumed dead, some whisper, even if they won't say it to his face. He refuses to believe that; he can't lose another loved one. He won't.
He sighs, his thoughts heavy as he makes his way out of the zoo and in the general direction of the boardwalk. Perhaps the ocean air will alleviate some of the tension now building in his scrunched up shoulders and shaking hands, which he hastily stuffs into his pockets.
Of course, he doesn't make it more than several feet in that direction when various members of the press, especially eager after the events of the past two weeks, surround him, causing him to start and causing the trembling in his hands to spread to his entire upper body.
"Fabrice, what happened that night you were stabbed?"
"Do you think it was the Thorntons acting in retaliation?"
"Have you heard from your cousin at all during this past week?"
He tries to tell them to leave him alone, but words fail him. He feels as though he's swimming in shark infested waters. His breath starts to come in ragged when his beloved cats appear out of thin air, encircling him like a furry cocoon, hissing in the general direction of the paparazzi.
This, of course, only inspires more camera flashes, and Fabrice knows it's going to be a long afternoon.
(OOC: Find Fabrice dealing with the paparazzi or immediately after he escapes. I've been thinking about his character all day while at work and just wanted to make an intro post for him.)
He hates feeling so useless; he's making a decent recovery, thanks to both medicine and the potions and charms he's taken. He has several scars across his abdomen that seem to be more severe and haven't yet let up, even with the assistance of magic. His nose wrinkles as he tries, again, to make sense of that night; he remembers with clarity only a flash of silver and purple - everything else remains a blur. He still doesn't think he was stabbed, despite what the various tabloids across town say.
And now Moira is missing, presumed dead, some whisper, even if they won't say it to his face. He refuses to believe that; he can't lose another loved one. He won't.
He sighs, his thoughts heavy as he makes his way out of the zoo and in the general direction of the boardwalk. Perhaps the ocean air will alleviate some of the tension now building in his scrunched up shoulders and shaking hands, which he hastily stuffs into his pockets.
Of course, he doesn't make it more than several feet in that direction when various members of the press, especially eager after the events of the past two weeks, surround him, causing him to start and causing the trembling in his hands to spread to his entire upper body.
"Fabrice, what happened that night you were stabbed?"
"Do you think it was the Thorntons acting in retaliation?"
"Have you heard from your cousin at all during this past week?"
He tries to tell them to leave him alone, but words fail him. He feels as though he's swimming in shark infested waters. His breath starts to come in ragged when his beloved cats appear out of thin air, encircling him like a furry cocoon, hissing in the general direction of the paparazzi.
This, of course, only inspires more camera flashes, and Fabrice knows it's going to be a long afternoon.
(OOC: Find Fabrice dealing with the paparazzi or immediately after he escapes. I've been thinking about his character all day while at work and just wanted to make an intro post for him.)
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"Are you okay, I guess that should have been my first question."
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"I've been better, to be honest. But now that I'm away from the crowd, I'm okay."
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"They're all yours? Following you around?"
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"Oh." He gets up, already regretting the loss of soft welcomes the cats provided him with. "That happens a lot to you?"
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"Well, as a Coombs who was just attacked after a Thornton was murdered, generally speaking, yes."
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I'm going to live somewhere with just cats. "Shouldn't the police keep you safe or something, if you're involved?"
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The cat's gorgeous, and Bach misses Cinderella. Misses her so. "They're a gorgeous set, the three of them."
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"Thank you," he says. "They're all from the same litter."
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No, I still don't see the use of believing in someone else's hobby. He shrugs. "Okay. You were lucky you could get all of them. I guess it's fun to have siblings around."
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"I am," he nods. "They enjoy having siblings, something I've never had, myself."
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"Same, yeah. It's tempting to build your own family when there's nothing there. That might be one of the things I like about this place."
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"Anyway, you're fine now, right? Can I do anything to help you right now?"
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"I am fine now sir, yes. Thank you," he says. "I don't think I need anything else, no."
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ooc: OH MY GOD THAT ICON. HE'S SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL, I CAN'T DEAL WITH HIS FACE.
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"My mother is fond of delusional things, that's why I'm sticking with Bach. At least people dare to open their mouth to pronounce it." He licks his lips. "I'm sure you'll know how to find me. Or I you."