GHOSTLY SCENE.

ELIZABETH WARD. fortyfour. lost, lonely. ❛ i didn't have it in myself to go with grace, & so the battleships will sink beneath the waves.

[angclinajolie]

OUT OF CHARACTER

Hi I’m Kate!

I’m unfortunately 26 years old but I’m a COVID 24 and I’m sticking to that.

She/her

A fun fact about me is that I can never think of a fun fact not even for my own mf rp talk tag sorry everyone love u

IN CHARACTER

I’ll be playing the insufferable Elizabeth (Liza to anyone who knew her before 2005, but Elizabeth if u did not) Ward, her blog can be found @elizabcthward​ for more info!  

She’s a late forty four, and will be forty five in September.

Liza previously worked in private sales at Sotheby’s until six months ago, when she moved back to Great Falls and has now deemed herself “financial consultant” for her family’s ranch.

A little bit about Liza: she’s a mess. She’s spent 17 years in New York pretending she’s got her shit together but she absolutely does not. This woman is a wild card with a mouth on her that would make a pirate weep and she quite literally does not give a shit about anything except three things: keeping her father’s legacy alive (and even that’s complicated, because half the time she hates him and half the time she’s a daddy’s girl, #daddyissues), getting her fair share of the money and land she and her siblings are going to be left when he finally croaks, and her niece. She means well but has a funny way of showing it, clearly.

I’m generally open to any and all connections! Liza’s not the friendliest human in the world but she’ll chat anyone up, she just might roast them a little bit while doing it. Would LOVE to have some connections from her past in Great Falls (I’m a huge sucker for high school connections, can be anything from enemies to past hook ups to best friends that have faded away) and I’m sure she’ll find a drinking buddy or fwb somewhere because if there are two things this woman loves it’s drinking and fucking (pardon my french srry).

If you wanna plot some before we open, don’t be shy & feel free to message me here or on Liza’s character blog!! My discord is also nancy drew#7706.

Her pinterest board can be found here!

[elizabcthward]

RALEIGH MONROE.

open // closed for @elizabcthward·

The condiments in the door of the refrigerator rattled as he opened it one more time almost in disbelief of the lack of food she had. He tried to rationalize it by her not going to the grocery store just yet but it felt more so like a ploy to get him to cook for her each time they found themselves together. “Do you purposely have no food so I leave quicker?” The question said in jest as he turned around to face her.

Truthfully, Liza hadn’t realized her friend was still around. The night had started like any other one, she’d a had a little too much to drink and ended up making eyes at a man she almost recognized, took him home and had mindless sex with him to forget the fact that she’s still stuck indefinitely in Montana. It maybe wasn’t the best idea — the house is a little too full lately, with Buck and Thatch and his kid all in one spot with their father on top of that, even the sprawling lodge feels a tad too suffocating. Liza knows realistically she should make the effort to move into one of the other properties on their land, maybe the house her grandmother had inhabited for most of her life in solitude after Jim took over the lodge, but that would solidify that she’s back in Great Falls seemingly for good and she isn’t ready for that kind of commitment yet. So she’s stuck bringing men home to her father’s house, and apparently she’s stuck walking in on one of them raiding the kitchen after she’d showered and left him in bed, which she’d assumed was the universal code for see-ya. He’d clearly not gotten the memo. “My diet consists of gin and nuts of all kinds, buddy, all the contents in that fridge are courtesy of my brothers. You want anything else, you’ve gotta go get it.”

[elizabcthward]

GABRIEL KNOX.

WHERE: Ward Ranch WITH: @elizabcthward·

“I swear to god, if I’d known Tyler was gonna be a carbon copy of my ass, I woulda dropped him off at the fire station the second Addison pushed him out,” Gabe laments, but there’s a soft smattering of laughter that manages to rouse the slightest of smiles from him as he glances over at his best friend and brings his beer to his lips. It’s not lost on him that this has become the essence of his friendship with Liza over the years: bitching, bitching, and more bitching, but if there’s anyone who can keep up with Gabe and all the baggage that comes with him, it’s her. Tonight, he’s drunk on her porch with a cigarette hanging limply from the corner of his mouth and cursing the universe for hitting him with an especially vile dose of karma. "Boy’s drivin’ me fuckin’ insane,” he mutters, though he’s perfectly aware that he can’t be too upset when he’d spent the bulk of his childhood doing the same shit— and worse. Liza had been a principle witness to a lot of it, and so he begins to doubt whether or not he’ll get an inkling of sympathy from her. If anything, it’s payback for all the hell he gave his own parents. Blowing out a smoke stained sigh, Gabe manages another laugh and leans back in his seat, “Life was a lot simpler when our biggest fuckin’ worry was poison ivy.”

Gabe’s probably as familiar with the Ward’s front porch as Liza is at this point, having been a hand on the ranch for as long as he was, so it isn’t out of the ordinary for the two of them to be shooting the shoot and smoking a cigarette as the day turns to night. Liza may hate being back in Montana but there are some things that make it slightly worth it, and Gabe’s ongoing friendship is one of them. He’s been an annoying little thorn in her side since they were teenagers and somehow he’s become a good friend from that, as well, no matter how much he annoys her. “That’s on you for fucking around and deciding to procreate. ‘Least I’ve had the sense not to.” Not that Liza’s really had much opportunity to bring life into the world, but even if the opportunity had presented itself, she knows she’d never take it. In her mind, there’s no worse punishment than being born into the Ward family. Her eyes narrow at Gabe when he brings up the poison ivy disaster, still not entirely over it even though decades have passed. “My biggest worry was poison ivy because of you. S’a wonder I didn’t smack the shit out of you back then and it’s a wonder I still don’t. I firmly believe your demon kid was sent to you from hell because of that incident.”

[elizabcthward]

NICOLAS TORRES.

@elizabcthward​

If Nico said that he didn’t come to the Griffith from time to time just to go back and forth with Liza Ward for a bit, he’d be lying. The pair had a good time— what could he say? He enjoyed listening to the woman’s foul mouth, paired with the dirty martini and she could say damn near anything. Not that he didn’t like the Griffith in its own right, there were some redeeming qualities to the bar, sure, but he hadn’t found the one that he was most in-tune with of the bars around town so he floats. So when he pulls up to the bar, putting himself next to the redhead, he’s not sure what he’s going to get. “I didn’t realize that they weren’t checking IDs here again. Pretty sure you’re too young to be hanging at the bar, missy. Better get your ass moving,” he says as he sits, a large grin turning up on his face. “Must be that redhead, rich girl effect you’ve got going on.”

Nico is a jackass. Liza’s known that for some time and every time she sees him, he proves it to be true. Oddly enough, it’s one of the reasons she likes him.  The two of them have an interesting dynamic, going back and forth with each other over booze and Liza likes that he gives just as good as he gets from her. Most people in this town are too fucking boring to deal with her borderline verbal assault, but half the time it seems like Nico takes it as a challenge. She raises an eyebrow at him when he plants himself in the seat next to her, rolling her eyes at his ironic flattery. “Well it’s here or Chuck-E-Cheese and I think if I stepped foot in there they’d kick me out on sight, so Matias makes an exception,” she says, canting her head before she lets out a laugh. “You saying I’ve got a rich girl effect goin’ is how I know you’ve never stepped foot outside Montana.”

[elizabcthward]

THATCHER WARD.

He barely catches the joint she thrusts at him before it sears a hole in his shirt. Somethings never change. No matter how long Liza is away, it’s comforting to know that she’ll always return to them like this. Bursting with a righteous anger that he’s forgotten how to access long ago. The theatrics, a slew of curses and a swift kick to a very solid slat of wood, are more amusing now than when they’re directed at him. Thatcher knows he shouldn’t laugh, or agree with his father. So he does his best to do both silently, with a straight face that gives off at least a little sympathy.

This is the version of his sister that he likes the most. When their shared frustration can be directed at a common enemy instead of each other. “Next time he says that to you,” he says, because there will be a next time, “feel free to remind him that last month I caught him out in the barn in nothing but a pair of briefs and one sock. I think mom would have a bigger fit about that, don’t you?” He should feel more guilty than he does about disclosing that information. Part of his job should be preserving the old man’s dignity for as long as he can. So he adds, in a somber tone after hitting his joint, “some of the meds make him real loopy.” 

Thatch scoots to one end of the porch swing, making room for Liza to sit. “You like it?” He passes the pot in question back to her, happy for something lighter to talk about. “I got a few crops on the back part of the land. Not tryin’a sell it or anything. Just some for personal use for nights like this. Seems like a good idea to have it on hand. Don’t tell anyone. It’s top secret.”

“Jesus Christ.” Something about the thought of Jim Ward walking around in his underwear, clearly disoriented and out of his damn mind, is incredibly jarring. Liza may not like the way her father treats her nor does she agree with half the shit he says, but she loves her father. He’s always been a strong anchor in their family, a man she’s admired for her entire life and truthfully, she may have accidentally ended up becoming a little too much like him. So to witness him the way he is now, the way he has been the last few months since she’s been home, is enough to keep a pit lodged in Liza’s throat that she constantly has to try and push down.

She doesn’t even respond to Thatcher, not entirely sure what to say when it comes to their father and his ailments. Liza isn’t the sentimental type and she’s got no words of sympathy for her brother, no sorry to give for not being here sooner. Instead she just kicks off her shoes and situates herself onto the end of the porch swing where he’d made room for her, tucking her legs underneath herself as she settles in. It’s Liza’s way of letting her guard down, because she wouldn’t go and get this comfortable in front of almost anyone else, but the comfort of her brother is enough to keep her usual antics at bay.

So she’ll sit here and smoke his pot with him, trying to forget yet another catastrophic family dinner on the back porch like they’re teenagers again. It’s nights like these that make her nostalgic for her old life here and long for the city at the same time. “Tastes like dirt and I’m about as high as you are straight.” Translation: not very. Still, Liza takes another hit, gently passing it back over this time. “Dad know you’re doing this?”

[elizabcthward]

SAWYER DECKER.

-

Sawyer couldn’t even fathom the thought of kids being popped out of her. Growing up, she never took an interest in her younger siblings in the way that Bash had - if any of the Decker siblings were destined to be parents, it would have been her older brother. Sawyer simply did not have the patience or the willpower for children, despite her mother’s desperate attempts to have her oldest daughter paired with someone, in the hopes it would land her a grandchild. In reality, Sawyer had been too focused on her career to have or even want a family - Aside from temporary flings here and there - the rise to the top was what motivated her, not being the homemaker her mother and grandmother had been before her.  “I wouldn’t put it past Sarah Decker, however with 800 kids that may be a last resort. Though, I’m sure Chopper is destined to knock a girl up at some point.” Out of all the siblings, it felt as though Chopper would be the one to have a ‘surprise’. “That’s actually not a terrible idea.” Sawyer grinned before taking a sip of her drink. “That might be the conversation I have when I get home. Besides, my Bash is the one she is really focusing on setting up right now. She keeps inviting girls from church over for dinner.” 

Liza takes a moment to mourn for her own mother, who’d only been given two grandkids she barely knew thanks to the Ward family gene of terrible fatherhood — a stark contrast to Sawyer’s mother and her plethora of children. The Decker kids certainly aren’t few and far between, Liza’ll give Sawyer that, and the thought of their mother having a million kids just so she’ll have a million grandbabies to choose from makes her laugh. “She’s definitely got her fuckin’ pick to force procreation on,” she snorts, shaking her head a bit. "Just make sure you’re prepared for the tears and the dramatics that come along with dropping that bomb.” Really, it may not be too upsetting — Bash is destined to have a kid sooner or later, the question’s just with whom, and Liza wouldn’t be surprised if Sawyer’s right and the other little twat was the one to almost knock a girl up in the bed of her truck the other night. Kids these fuckin’ days. “She find any suitable prospects for the divorcée yet?”

[elizabcthward]

SANTINO ROJAS.

He should’ve kissed her. He should have leaned in and took the plunge into uncharted waters. It was right there, tempting and deep. The blue of her eyes mesh with his own, blue and brown swimming. The thumping behind his ribs increases just as it did when he skid down that damn freeway on black ice. She was black ice and he was treading lightly as if he might break every bone in his body this time around. But, what did he really have to fear? The doom of love? Because he had loved her since the beginning, since he saw her under Jim Ward’s iron wing for the first time. And she was just as beautiful and just as tempting. Did he believe he may not survive a possible heartbreak by the hands of Liza Ward? Even he doesn’t know.

Still, he stays still, his dark eyes beginning to wander about her expression. He feels a tingle run up his hand and then his arm, the same arm that just reached out to touch her skin. When she finally speaks, Santino laughs, his head shaking in response. The sound is light, unable to dilute whatever brews between them. “Your wish is my command, mi querida.” He replies simply, his tone gentle. 

Not home yet. He could do that. Santino turns to the wheel again, putting his car in drive as he weaves his way out of the parking lot. The drive isn’t long and silence envelops them during it. And it’s a comfortable silence, at least, even with all his racing thoughts. He wonders where he could take her. By now, everything was either closed or in the process of closing. He drives down the road to his place after some thought, taking a turn into his neighborhood. “I just put the pot on before you messaged me.” Santino says, cutting through the silence, a subtle smile gracing his expression. He looks to her for just a moment before focusing back in on the road. “So, along with my Uber services, you also get some coffee to sober up.” He continues, another breathy laugh sounding from him. 

Once they pull into his driveway, Santino removes the keys from the ignition and turns to Liza again. He thinks to say something; anything, but doesn’t. Instead, he smiles warmly before heading out of the car, circling to her side. He opens the passengers side door for her. “Here, hand me your shoes.” He says, nodding to her shoes lying on the ground of his car.

Liza wonders if he’d been contemplating this move at all — if he’d maybe even decided the moment she texted him that tonight would be the night he finally made a move on her, and then chickened out at the last minute. But that thought quickly vanishes as it comes, because Santino isn’t that calculated. He is genuine and good and he’s remained that way since she’s known him, since they were twelve years old running through the fields of the ranch while their fathers talked about business and politics and all of that other grown up stuff the two of them didn’t give a shit about. His earnest sincerity and integrity are why they’ve never managed to cross the line they’ve drawn, and why Liza’s never just taken matters into her own hands and gotten what she wants from him. He is the one thing in her life that’s remained untarnished by her erratic behavior and she’s so afraid that if they go too far, she’ll ruin him too.

Not that they haven’t come close. It seems like every time she’s alone with Santino they get a little too close for comfort, really, and their breath will mix together and their noses will nearly bump before they come back to themselves, or he’ll look at her so intensely like he’d done just now and she’ll break her gaze away from him so she can stop feeling like she wants to shed her own skin. But that hasn’t happened in quite some time and Liza realizes, as they’re taking the road to his home and he tells her he’s got coffee on already, that this is the first time in a long time that the two of them have been alone together. The thought is crippling in itself, and Liza’s quick to get another quip in before she freezes up and chokes on her own sentimentality. “Aw shucks, honey, coffee just for me? I must be the luckiest girl in the world,” she teases him, putting on an old-timey Lucille Ball-esque accent to go along with it just to make sure any shakiness in her voice is covered and hidden away.

The home they pull into is nice — on the smaller side from her perspective, maybe, but well maintained and much better than his old cot at the bunkhouse. Liza marvels at it, a sense of pride washing over her at how well he’s done for himself, and then dread follows suit at the fact that she hadn’t been around to see it. She’s broken from her reverie when he opens the passenger’s side door, though, and she blinks at him once, twice — and then obediently hands him her shoes before situating herself to get out of the car. “Why, you gonna stab me with a heel? Probably would’ve been smarter to take me out into the mountains if that were the case, not very bright to make the scene of the crime your own home.”

[elizabcthward]

RYDER DECKER.

@elizabcthward​

He was taking his sweet ass time in the horse stables. The sun this afternoon was far too hot and Ryder could already feel a sunburn starting to form on the back of his neck where he forgot to put on sunscreen even after everyone reminded him to reapply. It was his last task of the day, feeding and grooming the horses, then cleaning up their area, and usually it didn’t take him this long. But today he was stretching out his time in the shade as much as possible. 

As he was sweeping out old bits of hay and god knows what else - he realized it was probably best not to think about the details in some of his tasks at work - the faded voices of other members of staff drifted in and out of his ear. Figuring that it was just other ranch hands wrapping up for the day a few yards away, he continued what he was doing. Wondering if it would still be too hot after his shift to take Holly to the park, he turned to grab the hose when he realized he wasn’t alone. The voices - and bodies carrying said voices - were way closer than he assumed. And one was way more angry than the other. Leaning against one of the closed pen doors, Ryder watched as Elizabeth Ward laid into one of the newer recruits at Ward Ranch, who could do nothing but hang their head in shame. 

He was entering this conversation way too late to know what was going on, but Ryder assumed that the angry furrow of Liza’s eyebrows and fact that she was still yelling was hint enough that it was bad. Once the other ranch hand was dismissed and Elizabeth turned to realize they hadn’t been alone in the stable, Ryder waved just a little at the Ward woman. "If I had known we were hazin’ the new guy I wouldn’t have helped him out with the clean up this morning.” He said as he pushed himself off the door, turning the hose on. “Unless he really fucked up. If he did - I was definitely not the one that trained him.” 

Liza would like to say it’s simply boredom that drives her out to the stables, and maybe it partially is, but truthfully she’d been on the hunt for Santino and when he’d been nowhere to be found, she refused to turn right back around and look like an idiot for dragging her ass all the way out there in the first place. So she’d found a victim, dressed him down for letting one of the new foals nearly knock her over and made a whole scene over basically nothing, because all she really had to do was walk around it and go the other way. But even once she’s over it and Ryder comes into view, she’s still running on fumes.

There’s a cockiness to Ryder’s demeanor that has her already foul mood going slightly further south. Liza likes him enough, really she does. But something about the way he speaks to her like he’s immune to her wrath, like he thinks he’s somehow better than the rest of the new hands just because he’s grown up around the ranch and has gone on one date with her niece, pisses Liza the fuck off. “It’s not hazing, kid, it’s your fucking job. Something you should be happy to be doing, not passing off to newer hands than you just to see them sweat.” It’s something her father would say, something Santino might even say, and it almost makes Liza sick that it’s coming out of her own mouth. But she’d been raised hearing it said to all of the hands, old and new — it’s work to take pride in, even the mucking. “You start acting like you’re the boss of them and they’re gonna end up clocking you harder than I ever could.”

[elizabcthward]

THATCHER WARD.

location: jimmy ward’s house starter: @elizabcthward​

There is a strategy to all of this. For maintaining his sanity when his entire family insists on being in the same room together. Jimmy’s dining room made to seat more than one generation of Wards under the same roof starts to feel awfully cramped when Jimmy’s in a mood to pick a fight. And, of course, tonight he is. Every night, it seems, Jimmy comes to dinner disguised as a frail old man but underneath that act, is still the same old bastard who knows which buttons to push to get a reaction out of each one of his kids.

Thatcher’s learned not to play these games. He volunteers to cook so he doesn’t have to wait around for dinner. He pretends not to hear his father when conversation gets directed at him. And, most importantly, he claims his seat near the exist and keeps quiet so no one notices when he slips out for a smoke break.

The temperature dropped when the sun went down. It’s not cold, but there’s enough of a breeze to feel nice when it blows through the back porch of his father’s house. In the swing mounted overhead, Thatcher exhales a cloud of smoke as gently rocks the swing back and forth. And just when he’s finally feeling a fresh sense of ease, the screen door slams against the exterior wall and Liza storms out. Thatcher just grins, a puff of laughter escaping him. 

“I think this is a record for you,” he pretends to check a watch he isn’t wearing. “Last time I don’t think you made it past the ‘everyone hold hands and pray’ part. We’d at least passed around the steaks before I slipped out.” Thatcher leans forward and offers the slender joint to his sister. 

“What’d he say this time?”

Liza really had hope that tonight might be the night she gets through an entire family dinner in peace. They’d managed to go through the motions, say a prayer and she’d even held her tongue when the mashed potatoes came out looking more like grits or a yeast infection than anything edible, and dinner had almost been finished. Almost. Then Jim Ward opened his misogynistic fucking mouth and Liza, who’d been itching to get the hell out of there anyway, shoved her chair away and slammed the back door behind her without even a word of argument. At this point, she’s too tired of this bullshit to even start a fight.

She hadn’t even realized Thatcher slipped out before her until she hears his laughter from the swing behind her, and whips around when he asks her what their father said this time that’s got her all riled up. Liza may think her golden child of a brother can’t be trusted about any truly serious family business, but there’s a bond they all have when it comes to Jimmy’s grating comments. “You really shouldn’t be out in them stables in a dress, Lizzie, your mother’d have a fit if she saw you.” Her Jim Ward impression is pretty good if nothing else, she’s got his low, gravelly voice and twang down pat. “Like I’m out there in the fucking dust and dirt stepping over horse shit because I wanna be. Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck!” Her last profanity is emphasized by a kick to the old railing on the porch, one that hurts her foot more than does any real damage to the house and she mumbles a swift ‘goddamnit’ under her breath before plucking the joint right from her brother’s fingers. 

At this point, it’d probably take the world’s largest blunt to get Liza to chill the hell out even a little bit, but fuck if Thatch gets to have all the fun while she’s reeling over their father’s stupid comments. She takes a hit, letting it sink into her lungs before coughing a few times as she blows out the smoke and flicks the joint back at Thatcher’s chest, raising an eyebrow while she looks at him. “Since when do you smoke pot?”

[elizabcthward]

SANTINO ROJAS.

The rhythmic thump of his heart steadily increases, the apples of his cheeks warming in her presence. Liza’s steadfast harshness was a thing Santino never questioned. He liked her this way, fierce and authentic. It reminds him of when they were kids, the two of them playing pirates on her father’s ranch until the sun went down. She remained a constant, her personality still the same. And that might have been what drew him to Liza in the first place, especially as a scrawny eleven year old who just wanted to make friends in a new country. She stood out, stark red hair, and a concrete personality to match. In the same regard, Liza might have also ruined all of his expectations, as he looks for her everywhere and in everyone.

“How else are you supposed to learn Spanish?” He asks jokingly, still looking through the open window. “I’ve been trying to teach you since we were children.”

When she’s tossing her shoes in, his smile widens, a chuckle escaping him. He feels his abundance of nerves remain, stirring inside his stomach. Once she’s inside, he thinks to just take her home and call it a night, but he doesn’t. Who was he to resists Liza Ward? He’s never been able to, even after over a decade apart. The thought alone makes his head reel. Over a decade and she was all he saw. In dreams, in walking life in the shape of other people who didn’t compare, and in the face of her family. “Oh, you didn’t know? Montana provides cowboy Uber services only.” The man jokes in return, the smile on his face never faltering. 

His dark eyes remain glued to her before speaking again, “Alright, where to, querida? Back home?” Santino questions before leaning in a little. “Hold on,” He says quietly, reaching his hand up to touch her cheek, carefully removing an eyelash from her skin. “You had an eyelash.” The eyelash sits on the pad of his index finger and Santino holds it out to her. “You have to make a wish.” Something he learned from his mother. She was a believer in many things, a naturally superstitious woman with solid faith. And Santino was just the same. But perhaps any excuse to be close to Liza came as a no-brainer. Even now, the quick touch to her cheeks makes his entire body heat up, his nerves piling high. 

Liza would love to pretend to be annoyed by his hounding her on her Spanish, but Santino’s never gotten on her nerves before and if the stupid grin that’s made a home on her face is anything to go by, he won’t be getting there any time soon. “If I haven’t learned it now, I’m never gonna fucking learn it. And I’m especially not gonna learn it while I can barely understand English.” The glassy look in her eyes has eased up a bit, though, her swaying steadied seemingly just by his solid presence. Something about Santino always manages to ground her, even in her most feral state.

So she gets in the vehicle without a fight, swinging herself up into the seat and slamming the door shut as he asks where they’re going. Truthfully, she doesn’t quite know yet but as long as it isn’t Ward Ranch she doesn’t really give a fuck. Liza turns swiftly to tell him as much, opens her mouth and everything when she’s cut off by his hand grazing her skin, so gently she almost doesn’t realize what’s happening at first. It shocks her — freezes her in place as the pad of his finger moves across her cheekbone and for a second she thinks this is it, he’s going to cross a line they haven’t dared cross before. But it doesn’t make sense, that move would be far too bold and Santino has never been anything but a complete gentleman to her — and whatever image she’d conjured up in her mind of him leaning in closer to her, of her meeting him halfway there quickly dissipates when he pulls away and the spell that seems to have come over them, the one that made the last five seconds feel like two hours, is broken.

And Liza would rather fling herself right back out the car door than give him any sort of clue as to what she’d just thought was about to happen, so she abruptly lets out a snort, shaking her head at his antics when he shows her the stray eyelash that’d brought the whole thing on. She doesn’t play into these types of things, often categorizing wishes and superstitions and the like as giant crocks of complete and utter bullshit, but for Santino she’ll pretend — in her own brash way. “I wished for you to get me as far away from this dusty fucking parking lot as you can.” Liza settles back into his passenger seat comfortably, tries to pretend her heart isn’t just now coming down from the sensation of his hand on her cheek as she looks over at him and adds, quietly this time, “not home yet.”

[elizabcthward]

ARIANA WARD.

@elizabcthward​

Location: Dinner Table, Ward Ranch 

Although dramatic, it was fun to be a part of the Ward family dinner with everyone. These were things that Ari had missed out on growing up - dinner with her mother and stepfather had been more peaceful, as they each caught up on what the other’s day had been like. The Wards? Total wild card. Never knowing what to expect, someone could storm out - someone could get cussed out. It was something that the brunette ironically looked forward to each night. Especially since Becky was there to experience everything with her, and the two would often find themselves sending each other text messages while everything exploded at the table

To Ari’s surprise, she walked into the dining room, greeted by her aunt Liza already seated. Ari didn’t get to spend much of her childhood around the redhead, but that didn’t stop her from trying to build a relationship with her now - considering she was her only aunt and her favorite member of her extended family. “God, I’m starving. Do you know what we’re having for dinner?”  

Liza has never sat down at the Ward family’s dining room table and made it through an entire meal unscathed. It’s been that way since she was a kid, with her father hounding her brothers and actively ignoring her — and Liza’s cries for attention came in the form of acting out at the dinner table. Now, when Jim insists they all get together and sit at that very same table since they all just happen to be in town waiting for him to die, it seems like nothing much has changed. The only noticeable difference is her mother’s absence, and the two new arrivals in the form of her nieces. So when one of them joins her before the rest of the family sits down, Liza of course can’t seem to bite her tongue. 

“Cow shit,” she replies easily, meaning to leave the remark as the joke it is and be done with it — but Liza’s not entirely in the mood to sit through this bullshit family dinner for long and she figures she may as well cause a little bit of a stir early on. “Well, liver, but there isn’t really much of a difference when you think about it. You know, the liver’s what detoxifies all of a cow’s waste, gets the digestive system moving and excretes all that nasty yellow bile you see when an animal dies and its blood and guts are all over the place. You could even argue that the liver sees more body fluid than a newborn baby that can’t go fifteen seconds without pissing, shitting, or spitting up.” There’s a beat of silence then, and she swears she hears her father mutter a ‘Jesus Christ, Liza’ from the kitchen — but that promptly gets ignored as she looks expectantly at her niece with a grin spread across her features. “Still hungry?”

[elizabcthward]

MARIN MANRAYAR.

LIZA WARD | @elizabcthward

when + where |  early evening, a bar

The sight of a familiar head of red hair pulls Marin through the bar, saving her from more bullshit small talk with people she barely knows. She leans on the bar top, not bothering with pleasantries. “I’ll have what she’s having,” Marin nods to Liza next to her, taking a seat next to the older woman. Once the drink is in her hand, she takes a large swig before speaking. “I saw you getting grilled by Detective Blondie.” She’s exaggerating – Marin didn’t exactly hear the conversation, just happen to see in passing. Though she hasn’t known the woman next to her for long, she can only assume Liza had started some shit with Lucy Baker. “You need help hiding a body? I’m free the rest of the night.” 

Oddly enough, Liza’s grown to like her niece’s spunky little sidekick — which is a feat, considering Liza doesn’t often grow to like anyone, and especially not anyone under the age of thirty-five that she hasn’t known since diapers. Marin’s a good girl, though, and a little too much like Liza with her drinking habits which she can appreciate — and it shows when the younger woman slides up next to her and orders a copycat version of her very dirty gin martini and takes a generous gulp. To say Liza’s impressed would be an understatement. “Hello to you too,” she raises a brow, eyes rolling slightly when Marin brings up her fun encounter with Detective Blondie, as Liza also happens to call her. “No body yet,” she confirms, as if the first person she’d go to if she did need to hide a body is Becky’s little twenty-something year old bestie. Still, the thought amuses her. “I knocked some kid in the back’a the skull with a rock, which was well deserved if I do say so myself. Blondie wasn’t all that thrilled with my BAC, though. Gotta quit drinking so much, I guess.” Liza emphasizes the sentiment with a raise of her martini glass, knocking back a generous swig of her own. “Cheers to sobriety.”

[elizabcthward]

LORIANNE ABRAMS.

Mentioning Jim Ward probably wasn’t the best idea, but Lorianne was just worried. She knew how much Liza missed New York and that much might never change, even if there were things and people in Montana that would always leave a mark. Someone in particular comes to mind but Lori decides to bury it. For now, anyway. Though, she does wonder where Santino might be. Maybe she could call him and get him to lift Liza’s spirits. Outside of herself, he seems to be one of the only people who had a history of doing so. 

“I can bring him the funnel cake later tonight, if you need me to. Bash can take me by the ranch on our way back to his place.” The woman offers sincerely, her head canting to the side. It’s evident she wants Liza to stay out of harms way, having already been put through enough. Sure, Lori was also uneasy in Jim’s presence, but she’d much rather take the blow than her. Liza might be one of the only people that Lori was semi-selfless for. “Or…you can call Santino?” She questions then with a quirked brow. 

At the next mention of Bash, Lorianne chuckles, her eyes rolling teasingly. She was the second person to ask her about Bash in that very specific context and she can’t help the way it makes her stomach turn. Usually, she would have put up a front in order to save face, but she couldn’t with Liza. So, she sighs, shrugging her shoulders. “I wish I had some snarky reply for that nosy ass question of yours but I don’t. When it comes to him, I’m as clueless as anyone. He could easily be dick-less like a Ken doll down there and I wouldn’t know. It’s so stupid.” Her lips purse in thought before continuing, “Be honest, am I hideous or something? Do I stink like rotting garbage? He sometimes tiptoes around me like I’m either deeply disgusting or I’m made of glass.”

Liza waves Lori’s offer away as soon as the words start leaving her mouth, shaking her head as she takes a long sip of her drink — a drink she desperately needs to duplicate if they’re going to sit here and talk about her father. She’d never willingly subject Lori to interacting with him but especially not while he’s in the state he’s in, and when she brings up Santino — well, Liza almost chokes on the liquid running down her throat at a mile a minute. “No.” She nearly barks out her refusal, head shaking as she tries to swallow the startled cough that tries to force its way out of her. “Really, it’s fine, Lor. He’ll live without his fucking funnel cake.” Well, maybe he won’t live, but it won’t be because he didn’t get the fried dough he wanted in a timely manner.

Liza stares blankly at her friend as she rants about Bash and his potentially dick-less situation down South, eyebrow raised. “You really haven’t fucked him yet? Jesus.” For some time, Liza had just assumed Lori and Bash were together like that without really making it known to the world. Granted, the redhead rarely asks about these things — her nosiness only truly gets the best of her when she’s in town and bored and wants to stir the pot, otherwise she couldn’t give less of a fuck — but she figured if Lori had an issue she’d tell her. The younger woman is about as free as Liza is in the sense that they don’t often choose to feel things, they like to sleep around and they like to move on. Hell, that’s something that had bonded the two of them together once upon a time, but the way Lori’s talking makes it seem like she wants more. “Well, you’re not disgusting, and it’d take a lot more than just that man to shatter you, so I wouldn’t call you glass-like.” Liza pauses, pondering it for a moment before tilting her head. “He either strictly likes dick these days or that ex-wife of his fucked him up way too much for you to deal with the aftermath. Either way, I’d cut your losses.”

[elizabcthward]

BUCK WARD.

“You’re actin’ like there’s not more to it. It’s hard to not die doin’ it,” He was probably going to spend the rest of his life convincing his sister that his sport was hard and he’d keep doing it. “What are you even doin’ over here? Most riders are as dumb as rocks, they’re not worth taking home.” He was never going to let a day go by where he didn’t tease her, “I figured you’d be tryin’ to win a goldfish again.” He thought about Lori’s comment before, being worried about his sister and he was wondering the best way to go about it with her. Was she okay? He knew she didn’t find this stuff entertaining. “I’ll even win one for ya to make up for the time I tapped too hard. And don’t tell me you wouldn’t find that fun. Everyone wants to win a goldfish.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m lookin’ for — stupid and obedient. I’m the bull, just need a rider.” Except that’s not true at all, and Liza would fuck one of these idiots maybe once and then toss him aside out of boredom, but it’s the thought that counts. She’s almost one hundred percent sure her brother has no interest in hearing that from her, but she cracks a wider smile anyway, unwilling to tone down her crudeness even for him. The redhead shakes her head when he brings up the goldfish, just another thing on the long list of casualties Buck has contributed to in her life. Leave it to him to bring up some childhood fair trauma from decades past — but Liza figures it’s only fair, since she’s convinced her brother is mentally six years old from all the brain damage he’s endured. “You win me a goldfish and I’m shoving it up your ass. I’m just trying to laugh at these stupid fucks getting knocked on their asses in peace. I know you think it’s a very serious sport, but I hate to break it to you, Buck — it’s fucking funny.”

[elizabcthward]

REBECCA COHEN.

The little smile on Becky’s face slips despite her best efforts. If anyone were to ask, she would say she’s made peace with the lack of any real kind of family unit in her life and she’s almost got herself convinced of that too. And yet for whatever reason, it’s still just as jarring every time anyone refers to Jimmy Ward as her grandfather — her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach and a nervous feeling jittering in her nerves. She remembers her first big event she’d hosted at the gallery, a well meaning if not ignorant woman from town making an offhanded comment ‘your grandfather must be so proud of this’ that had her sticking her foot in her mouth when she’d immediately replied with ‘I don’t really think he gives a shit’ and had to play it off with a joke about it being harvest season and that was probably the only thing on his mind. Talk about awkward. But she tries (and fails) to recover before Liza can have a chance to notice the shift in her, sighing quietly and painting that little smile right back on her face. “There’s a bar here. I could go grab you a drink. The guy they’ve got volunteering to make the drinks is about a thousand years old and keeps accidentally pouring doubles.” At least, she thinks it’s an accident. Her nose scrunches in response to Liza’s words and the clear disgust on her face. “It’s because you’re so bitter,” she starts off, though clearly joking because everyone knows she adores Liza. “Your system doesn’t know what to do with all the sugar.” 

Immediately, Liza’s gaze snaps toward the direction of said bar, her quest to get her ailing father a funnel cake nearly abandoned at the thought of a shot or six. This fair has her so oddly high-strung that Liza would do just about anything to forget the reason she came here in the first place and just go get wasted with the bartender that’s been serving her drinks here since she was probably about sixteen — for nostalgia’s sake, of course. Maybe her swift reaction to the promise of a drink isn’t the best influence on Rebecca, but in Liza’s mind her niece is already plenty fucked up and her drinking habits aren’t going to make it any worse. “That’s a dangerous thing to tell me right now when I’d drop the pants on old Mr. Booker for one singular drink, kid.” And she would, too, but Liza’s not sure that’s entirely appropriate for her niece to hear, so she’ll let her think it’s a joke. She takes one more tiny bite of the disgustingly sweet apple, making another face as if it’s personally offended her even though she’s the one that can’t stop eating it, but Rebecca makes a comment about her bitterness and Liza narrows her eyes at the little shit. “Ha ha, you’re real fucking funny,” she deadpans, but there’s a smile that tugs at Liza’s lips even if she’ll deny it until the day ends. “You get that from me.”

[elizabcthward]

SAWYER DECKER.

@elizabcthward·

Location: Neon Moon

There wasn’t many people in Great Falls that Sawyer truly respected, but Liza Ward was at the top of the list. Even as a kids, Sawyer could remember following the red head around like a lost puppy. Now, that the two were older and had a life outside of Montana and the west all together, it was almost comical to think of when they were younger. Sawyer had been somewhat familiar with the situation at the Ward household, but she had been so focused on her own homecoming that she hadn’t extended an invite to get drunk sooner. Great Falls had a way of sucking someone deep into it’s pits, but Sawyer refused to let that happen to her - at the very least she would be here to help Bash and her parents for a short while, at least that had been her plan before Remington offered her a position at the newly opened Montana office, one that came with more pay. 

“Can I get another glass? Just keep them coming.” Sawyer told the bartender, before finally letting him walk off. Sawyer turned her attention back to Liza. “If I go home now, my mother will want to stay up talking about all the potential men she could set me up, and I can have children with.” Sawyer paused to thank the bartender for her new drink, before continuing. “I hate kids, and I keep telling her that.” 

“The thought of you chasing after some snot nosed little shit that popped out of you is too fucking funny.” Liza’s words wrap around her martini glass before she takes a sip, careful not to down the entire thing in one go before she raises an eyebrow at Sawyer. “If you’re not careful, she’s gonna drug you and take you to go freeze your eggs some night when you’re least expecting it. I swear if I hadn’t moved across the country my mother would’ve done the same thing.” Louise Ward had been raised to believe that a woman’s job was to provide children for the family, and it’s a wonder Liza had managed to break from that mold. Her mother hadn’t understood that Liza had no intention of becoming just like her — that raising a kid had only been in the cards for her because it apparently hadn’t been for her brother and she’d felt like she had no choice. How their mother let Buck get away with all but abandoning Rebecca, and yet continuously put expectations on Liza in his wake continues to baffle the redhead even with Louise six feet under. “Maybe you should tell her you’re infertile. Rip the band-aid off.”

[elizabcthward]

SANTINO ROJAS.

starter for: @elizabcthward​. location: cascade country fair, closing time.

The county fair was something Santino didn’t think to attend this year. Not because he hated it, no, he just had work to do elsewhere. The Ward ranch wasn’t going to watch over itself with Jim Ward in his current state. Besides, despite no hard feelings toward the event, Santino would much rather work than mingle and eat sweet, fried food. At the end of the night, his mind wanders. His hands are under cold water, Santino rubbing dirt from his knuckles. He thinks of Liza, roaming about the fair. The image makes him smile to himself, mostly because he knows how much she’d rather be anywhere else too. Somewhere alone, somewhere with him. Or at least that’s what he hopes. In truth, his mind was often swarmed with thoughts of Elizabeth Ward. Thoughts he could never shake. He spent most of his previous New York nights wondering of her, picturing her in vacant Montana fields, the sun glistening down on her skin and red hair. It was always dreamlike and perhaps that’s how it would always stay. A dream made for a wandering, desire-stricken mind.

And desire is all Santino can feel on the drive home. The lights from the fair illuminate the night sky just in the distance, the large Ferris wheel in sight too. Again, he thinks of her. He wonders where she must be now. Even as he pulls up into his driveway, pulling the keys from the ignition, these thoughts persist. He’s settling in for the night, grabbing a cigar to accompany him, when a message comes.

Hello. Drunk. I am.

Santino smiles wide, plucking his keys from the table and leaving in an instant. The drive only takes minutes, the man pulling up just in time. He already knows where she’ll be settled, just toward the front. He pulls up, rolling down the passenger side window before leaning over to see her. “Evening, querida.” He greets, a warm smile gracing his expression. A smile reserved for her and her alone. “Necesite transporte?” The man asks teasingly, just to make her laugh or smile.

The night has started and ended with Liza in a tough spot. She’d gone to the county fair with every intention of being a good daughter, of saving the day for dear old dad and doing something nice for him in his ailing state, even if he’d barely bat an eyelash when she offered to do so. That alone had put her in a foul mood, and as the night went on and she subjected herself to the small town bullshit she’d previously swore up and down to be abandoning forever, it only got worse. It’d be more fun if he was here — the thought had drifted in and out of her consciousness more than once as the night progressed, gnawing at her like a dog with a bone. It’d make the disgusting smells worth it, make the dust feel less grimy as it settled on her skin. They’d play the stupid games like they’re kids again and he’d make her smile despite her claims that she’s having a terrible time and then they’d sit on the edge of the parking lot like she’s doing now, puffing on one of his cigars and sharing some whiskey they’d stolen from behind the bar.

But now she sits on the edge of the parking lot alone — too drunk to drive but too stubborn to admit defeat and let someone else do it for her. It’d be embarrassing and Liza hates embarrassment, and fuck if she’s going to subject herself to a lecture from Thatcher or let someone she barely knows get behind the wheel of the cattle truck she’d stolen for the night. She’s stuck until she sobers up or until she abandons her pride, and unfortunately the latter seems like a more plausible option. So she texts the only person in the world she’d accept help from without a fight — four simple words and Santino’s there in minutes, grinning at her with the window rolled down like no time has passed at all.

“Fuck you. I hate when you do that.” It’s a lie — Liza has always found his incessant need to taunt her in his first language overly endearing, but she’s too drunk to try and figure out what the fuck he’s saying to her, even if it’s a pretty easy guess. Her eyes squint against the bright lights of his own truck, a hand moving to act as shield until she settles herself onto his car door, all but leaning through the open window as she reaches inside to let her shoes drop to the passenger’s seat floor. The familiarity of the act is so jarring that she almost backs away, almost straightens herself up and gets into his vehicle without a snarky comment or any resistance — but she wouldn’t be Liza if that were the case. “Thought I ordered an Uber, not a cowboy. Really can’t rely on any technology out in these parts, can you?”