damaged goods

dr. eliza starling 33, emergency physician widow

[elizastarling]

charlieteufel​:

―

          “Would you rather I say that I have you all figured out? Most people don’t. I’ve learned,” he responded with a casual shrug, having learned long before this job that most people liked to believe that they were not the easiest people to read. They liked to think otherwise, that their pain was their own and made them unique despite the countless others that sat in various seats at the bar, thinking the exact same thing. Not to mention she had a softer face than most, meaning her pain was still fresh compared to others. “Nah, it’ll take a few more times to figure out some of what’s going on in that head of yours ‘less you’d rather I don’t even try.”

He tried to offer what looked like a comforting smile, but it was more of a gesture than anything else as he noticed her watching the drink more than him. Easy. “A bit sweeter. I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He was still learning some of the harder drinks to mix, not always easy when many only wanted some of the simplest drinks to get drunk with rather than something complicated. “Not enough it seems, since I missed it this time. I won’t let it happen again.”

―

“Just because most people don’t like the fact they’re predictable doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’m sure you’ve learned that, too.” Eliza mused and mirrored his shrug, still happily sipping the drink she’d declared wasn’t quite as sweet as she would have liked it to be. Didn’t mean it was bad, though. Or maybe it just meant her standards had dropped along with her drinking habit worsening. “So I guess that’s what I want to know. How predictable I am.” She flashed him a crooked smirk, but the next words made her chuckle under her breath. She left them uncommented, truth was, she didn’t even know what was going on in her own head most days.

Sometimes, Eliza wondered if half of her personality had been Michael. Before his death, she would have probably shrugged that development off as something that just happened in long-term relationships. Only Michael had always been himself, never settling for anything less than what he wanted, dragging Eliza along if need be. More than once she had wondered what he would have done had Eliza refused to move to Chicago with him. A part of her knew the answer, the other part... well, the other part drank. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.” The blonde lilted, not caring he didn’t have much experience as a bartender. He kept her amused, and everyone needed to start somewhere. “Good, because I’ll eventually reach the bottom of this drink.” And she had all night to spare.

[elizastarling]

sangranteria​:

“As long as it’s the same gold, it’ll work just fine. When you find, just double check that it matches this little number here on the back of the face of the watch,” Jude instructed her, holding out the eye loop and the ring out to her so she could see for herself. “Those little numbers? With the KT? As long as it matches, we’re good to go on this end. You can take the loop with you, and bring it back when you have the watch.” 

Jude had yet to lose anyone, and it was a privilege that weighed heavy on him with the worry of when. He had seen death more than once, and faced it over and over in his absence in Chicago but even then it had never been certain and for the most part, Jude had been left unscathed. The only time it ever did scar him, he had only been pulled apart to be built up much stronger. The business he dabbled in behind the display cases and the chatter of Magnificent Mile had been darker and bloodier than cutting your finger in the middle of jewelry repair. It was more dangerous than those nights when his store was smaller and its security system was no more than an alarm and Jude, driving over at three in the morning, with no more than a bat in hand. However, death had yet to grab him or anyone close to him. He could only imagine what tugged in Eliza’s chest, or what stone dropped in her stomach at the thought of someone who was no more than a blurred memory or a cold feeling. He would do his best to help her, in his own special craft, to be at peace. 

“They shouldn’t,” He admitted, his voice soft. “But it happens. They don’t want to upset you, or make any assumptions on the progress, and eventually they just take a step back and forget all together.” It was a mistake he had committed more than once that he tried to work on. After all, those he had been close to in Chicago that had met their demise had changed so much that he didn’t know who they were by the time they were buried. The same went for him. “But it’s okay not to give into the answer they suspect, Eliza. At least not with me. This is a lot. It’s fun, and it’s exciting, and it can be cathartic, but it’s also scary. I won’t deny it. I’ve seen a lot of people come in here, have these grand plans, and in the end, they just want things polished. Not even some grand renovation. They just want it clean so they can put it away for a day when they need to remember what it looks like.”

―

She listened to his instructions with a flicker of determination in her hues, almost as if she had been eager to hear them, eager to do something that was perfectly easy to memorize and carry out. Instructions, both giving and receiving, were the easiest thing about Eliza’s daily tasks, she could pull off the objective, matter-of-factly act easily, but what struck fear into her was when people inquired into more than she was willing to share – it could be as simple as asking her how she felt that particular day, and she knew she’d have to come up with an answer that wasn’t exactly the same as the one she had given the day before. Sometimes, she came dangerously close to simply blurting out the truth, just to witness the reactions from people and perhaps find just a glimmer of satisfaction in calling them out on their feigned friendliness.

Interestingly, Eliza felt no such temptation when Jude spoke. The words he offered her were neither overly sentimental nor harsh, they were just truths. Once she got over the initial surprise of being told almost exactly what she’d been thinking, the semblance of a smile hushed over her features. “I know. I used to be the person who delivered the bad news. More often than not, I couldn’t even remember the faces of the people whose lives had fallen apart before my very own eyes by the end of the day. That’s how much I wanted to forget all together, and forget I did. It’s in our nature to do so, unless we are the ones at the receiving end of loss.”

Although his words once again caught her off guard (wasn’t he supposed to be selling, not talking her out of this?), her features softened and the smile that had nearly crossed her visage earlier now sprung to life. “Can I sleep on it?” She asked, her voice low, but after a beat, her smile grew. “You’ve helped me a lot. Your sketch is beautiful, and your work ethic may potentially be bad for business if you show every customer the same amount of kindness as you’ve shown me, but I appreciate it. A lot.” She assured him. Lithe fingers ghosted over the small box, but before she tidied up the bands and prepared to take her leave, Eliza hesitated. “Do you have any plans for dinner?” She wondered. “You took all this time after closing up the shop, and I can’t even tell you if I really want what I came here for.” Eliza explained, huffing a soft laugh. “I would love to thank you with dinner. Tonight, or any other night our schedules align?”

[elizastarling]

Where: Faust mansion

Who: @crimsonfaux​

It was strange how one’s perception of certain places could change, Eliza noted as she drove up to the Faust mansion for dinner, a place she had once called home. It hadn’t been for long, both she and Michael had felt it was too generous an offer and they had both agreed they needed a roof over their heads if they wanted to start a family. The roof was still hers, only Michael and said family were missing. Despite how distant Oliver sometimes seemed (and she assumed she gave him the very same impression), visiting him always made her heart feel a bit fuller and left her with stinging cheeks from smiling around his children.

In an unexpected, yet perfectly explicable way, Eliza felt it was that gentle streak that still linked the both of them. While little of their old friendship remained with Michael no longer in the picture, they had, at the very least, maintained a bond through Oliver’s little ones. Eliza breathed a sigh just before she rang the doorbell, purse on one shoulder, another bag clutched in her opposite hand. She briefly peered down at her watch, half an hour early. When he opened the door, she greeted him with a tentative smile. “Hi, sorry I’m early. I’ll help chop and stir if needed.”

[itsdailyactress]

Sarah Gadon, photographed by Caitlin Cronenberg for Jaeger-LeCoultre, 2015.

[laventii]

OPEN TO: Everyone @crimsonstarters​ LOCATION: Neutral Club

Too many corners of his own territory had been tainted the shadows of those lost and left and for once, Lavrentii was aware of it. He had lived in absence and fleet most of his life. Any consistencies had been by chance as even those in power defied the good in the law of dying young. For one of the few times in his life, Lav felt the weight of it on his shoulders and the small of his back. His own wavering silence had taken him by surprise but at the inquiry and the interest, even if it was driven by boredom, was enough to get him to shift that weight into a better balance to carry.

“Me, coming often, to a place like this?” Lavrentii scoffed, careful to implement the grammar he typically butchered out of his words and soften his annunciations. He tossed back the glass in his hand, it’s clink against the counter swallowed by the music. “You don’t come here for people you know, do you not think so? Coming to the same place for the same faces defeats that purpose. I am just looking for something to focus on between all these flashing lights and make sure I am not too far gone yet. The story of the night is still writing itself, so what is the point in worrying about the rest unless you want to do, what is the word, plotting? I am going to need at least your name to promote you to co-author, yes?”

[elizastarling]

The blonde hadn’t come to the club on her own, but one way or another, paths had diverged and she had somehow ended up sat beside a man whose words she found somewhat difficult to filter out amid the constant influx of music and voices. Consequently, Eliza inched closer, blinking up through hooded blue eyes as a smirk nudged her lips. “That’s one intricate way of hitting on a woman if I’ve ever heard one.” Easy laughter spilled from her as her curious gaze flickered to the glass on the counter and swiftly back to meet his. “I’m Eliza. As your co-author, I suggest you reveal your name and then we’ll get another round if we’re going to be serious about plotting. We can always edit sober.”

[kevindolenz-blog]

[elizastarling]

rosesjustdie​:

….

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Zoe sure that she would be okay with the staff, other people would just always have her on edge. Progress was getting out and about and handling herself in crowds and that was all that people could really ask of her after the year that she’d had. “Uh– well I had it narrowed down to that or Snowball but my family had to remind me there’s not a lot of ways to shorten Snowball without sounding like a crazy person when you yell it down the street.”

― 

“Your family had the right idea.” Eliza said after contemplating both options and decided that neither sounded particularly sane, just as the woman had suggested. “One of our labs was called Peeves. My brother had the great idea of calling him that because he wanted to introduce him as this is my pet, Peeves. My parents said nothing, and it wasn’t nearly as funny as he’d hoped. Maybe that’s why my parents didn’t intervene.”

[elizastarling]

sangranteria​:

He took note of the shift in her features, the way they contorted in her silence but stayed perfectly still when she spoke. That hesitation must have sat in her thoughts before she moved on, stuck to her plan to give the jewelry at hand a new purpose but maintain its memory. 

“We don’t have to do that. Those are for more… invasive renovations,” Amadeus nodded. While he was always eager to use old materials to spark up a new design and feed into his own creativity, he held the importance of each piece closer to him beyond anything else. It was the reason his family was in the business. There was a sentiment to be preserved in the finer strings of gold and jewels. It wasn’t something reserved for royalty, but every day people who had the opportunity to invest in it. It was an attainable treasure. 

“I can do that. I might have to introduce a new metal into it in order to sort of elongate one ring for that shape, but I’ll try my best not to. If you have an old piece of jewelry that’s the same metal, I could use that to keep the sentiment. Do you have the extra link from a watch of his, or even an old chain?”

―

“Good.” Eliza shifted on her feet, palms rubbing together as her gaze darted between the rings and the man in front of her. She did feel slightly out of character, wondering if perhaps, people would have made her feel better. But then again, people were unpredictable. People could have been couples engaged to be married, or simply the kind who’d look her way, young and beautiful and broken, and give her pitiful glances as they eavesdropped on the conversation. She had met those kind of people before, of course, but with Michael’s ring in tow, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to stomach it.

She thought on his suggestion for a while, it wasn’t often people asked for belongings of a dead man. It had been a strange thing to face, after Michael had died, Eliza still half-expecting him to come through the door for months after it had happened, his stuff had simply been... left, untouched, serving no purpose other than to wound her. “A link from a watch... Yes, I have the one he wore daily. I put it away, but I can bring it in, it’s just sat in a box at home.” Eliza knew precisely which box and where exactly she had stored it away inside that very box. Memories truly were dangerous things. One day, she felt strong, and the next, she realized she still felt absolutely everything.

She released a deep sigh, unaware she’d been holding onto it, but as it rippled through her frame, her azure hues widened. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long time since I talked about Michael. Eventually, people just stop asking.” Which wasn’t a bad thing, people needed to move on. But once again, people didn’t apply to Eliza. Even though she was at the center of this tragedy, she often felt as though she played no active part in it.

[elizastarling]

revelaare​:

—

“good morning sunshine.” lorelai is perched on the end of the couch, wide awake. as the proprietor rarely drunk during opening hours even though she doesn’t serve the alcohol. “you’re not dead.” a dry humoured bout of air leaves lorelai’s lips, playfully tapping the blanket, in the space she assumes are her calves. “but i could of killed you while i was trying to get you up the staircase.” it’s not the first she’s navigated eliza’s wobbly legs up the stairs, but it probably won’t be the last. 

―

Face already buried in her pillow, Eliza feebly attempted to cover her ears with it. She knew realistically Lorelai wasn’t shouting, but given she couldn’t cope with much more than a gentle murmur, it sure as hell felt like she was. “That’s for me to decide.” She grumbled, wanting to add the good old smug I’m the doctor, but Lorelai’s next words made her cringe internally to the point she decided against it. She squinted at her, and slow as a slug, she heaved herself into an upright position. “I love you.” Eliza stated matter-of-factly, confident this was something the other woman knew, but a reminder never hurt. Especially after she’d had to drag her up the staircase. “Just how bad was I?”

[elizastarling]

sangranteria​:

More than once he had wedding rings and other shinier memorabilia brought to him with the intention of either getting rid of them for good, or altering its form to bring out the sweeter memories they held. It was always a delicate matter, but Amadeus had become familiar with the sentimentality of so many methods. Wedding bands always seemed to be the most difficult, though. 

“There’s a bunch of different things we can do,” He assured her, reaching over to the edge of the counter to reach for a mat to set her belongings over the glass. He fixed an eye loop over the rings, taking note of its condition and the stamp claiming its purity. A notepad took over the ring in his hand that he placed back between the two of them. “I can melt them both down and make it into a smaller pendant, but it’s not much metal to work with, so it’s be very small. Most people aren’t very comfortable sawing open the rings because there’s some superstition of damaging the union, but there are other ways to mold it into something else without doing that.” As he spoke, he sketched out the push and pull of the metal that he envisioned. “No sawing, just soldering and stretching it under heat. I can even solder your band inside of his, and move the stones around.”

―

Eliza had looked at pictures while researching prior to coming to his jewelry shop, of course, but as she listened to what could be done with the rings, she realized none of the pictures had stuck. Perhaps that was because the endeavor still seemed too daunting. Nevertheless, she trusted Amadeus as someone she’d taken a liking to as a friend of sorts, and as a professional, believing he knew what he was doing. As if he could sense her thoughts before they had even entered her mind, Eliza tensed at the idea of having them melted down and the mention of sawing. She realized they couldn’t remain in the box as they were, couldn’t be worn any longer either, but still, the idea of the rings no longer being recognizable in the slightest unsettled her.

His words hit the nail on the head, but paradoxically, Eliza chuckled under her breath. “Not more damaging than death.” She blurted, but realized not everyone shared her dark sense of humor – especially when the joke was made at her own expense. In a way, it was a coping mechanism – she could handle death just fine, she had to with what she did for a living, but Michael’s death… was an entirely different subject. Not commenting on her words further, she studied the sketch, a glint in her eyes as they ascended to meet his. “It’s beautiful.” She said with a faint smile. “I’d like to be able to recognize the rings still, so yes, that... would be a lovely symbolism.”

[pocketgalaxies]

[itsdailyactress]

Sarah Gadon, photographed by Tim Leyes for ACTRA Toronto, spring 2016.

[elizastarling]

Where: Eliza’s home, around noon

Who: @revelaare

The night before was but a blur. Eliza couldn’t quite put her finger on it yet, but it felt like a humiliating blur at that. Humiliating at her expense, almost certainly. When her eyelids finally cracked open, she found herself half-clothed in her bed, no clue how she’d staggered her way back there. It wasn’t until her eyes landed on a familiar face that a feeling of relief settled in her chest. At least she’d gone home with Lorelai. Soon after, she commented on the splitting headache that plagued her with a prolonged groan. “Oh my god. Make it stop.” She brought her hands to her face, as if to shield it from the light filtering through the window. “I know I’m not dead, but I feel like I am.”

[juliafaust]

location: cataleya  time: late-ish alignment: neutral  tagging: open to all @crimsonstarters​

It was too hot in this stupid bar. Julia Faust had never, never even once, gotten high before and with her anxiety lately, she had a few friends tell her that a few hits from a pen wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It had been a trying, stressful day at week at work, with three patients having to be sedated and she was working hard in school, ahead of her class. Despite this though, nightmares still came through, and a restful sleep was damn near impossible. Between the horror of what had happened to her back at the hotel and then almost burning to death at the theatre, her anxiety was higher than normal and it was getting pretty old. Come on, Jules. Just a few hits. You’ll be fine. You’ll be grand. Julia usually would be at home, cuddled up with a book, but tonight? Tonight she realized she had read twelve books this month and needed some social interaction. Only healthy, right? 

“God damn. It’s so hot in this bar. What do you think? I’ll have a shirley temple, please and thank you. Extra ice.” Julia exclaimed, her usual soft voice louder as she ordered, tossing her shirt off. She had her bra exposed now, and a cami underneath her, but still. She heard a few snickers, a few oos and ahs from men and Julia narrowed her eyes. 

“What is your problem, sir? Never seen a girl in a bra before? It’s a bra. It’s not a nuclear device. Wow. Wow. That painting is staring at me.” Julia blinked a few times, sighing as she reached forward for her shirley temple with extra cherries. She looked to the person next to her, smiling. 

“And whatever my friend over here wants. What are you having? Apparently I need more friends, friends who don’t give me three hits on some pen and then leave me to fend for myself. Bar keep, whatever my friend is having too!” Julia flashed a warm, inviting smile. 

[elizastarling]

The night hadn’t progressed far enough yet for Eliza to blink away her surroundings and allow the numbing embrace of alcohol to put her mind at ease – which, as it turned out, was more than fortunate given the show Julia was putting on for those sat around her. She cringed internally at the reactions a handful of men gave her, knowing she could handle herself, but it still made Eliza feel more uncomfortable than if she had been at the center of their attention.

“Shirley temples don’t make paintings come to life, darling.” Eliza half-chided, but she also had a small smile clinging to her lips. She had already guessed what Julia had gotten up to, didn’t judge her for it, but was merely glad the girl had ended up sat next to Eliza rather than one of those sleazy assholes. She waved the attention they got from the bartender, they were well-served with Julia’s drink and Eliza’s marg, and something told her she should be accompanying the girl home after their current round lest the paintings started talking to her, too.

“If they left you to fend for yourself, I’m not entirely sure you can call them friends.” Taking a sip from her drink, Eliza shuffled closer to the younger woman, glancing her over once. She noted the red eyes, suspicion confirmed. High as a kite. “You have a fun evening, Julia?”

[wordsnquotes]

Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t build character. It only hurts.

Jacobs, Kate. Comfort Food. (via llannisters)

[revelaare]

starter: open location: the pint  ( neutral )

“it looks sticky — and i already know im NOT going to like it.” kon wasn’t necessary a picky drinker, per se, however she was a firm believer in the concept that you consume with your eye’s first. and whatever it is, the cocktail is hardly an appetising morsel to ogle at.

@crimsonstarters​​

[elizastarling]

“It’s only sticky if you spill it, silly.” Eliza countered, she for one liked the sight of it, but then again, she did have a sweet tooth. Anything to mask the taste of alcohol, anything that made it easier to gulp down however much was necessary to make her feel a bit more alive. The man’s antics made her chuckle, she figured there was no harm done in a bit of banter with a stranger. “Give it here then. I’ll drink it.”

[elizastarling]

rosesjustdie​:

…

Zoe was more than aware of what people thought when they saw her coming into these sorts of places with the samoyed. The amount of people who had told her that he couldn’t be a service dog because of his breed was high enough that she never wanted to truly know the number. “Oh. That’s– sorry.” A little bit awkward, fingers playing with the bottom of her sleeve as she smiled softly at the woman. “Chewbacca. Chewie actually, we call him Chewie more than anything else.”

―

Eliza shook her head lightly. “Don’t stress it. I grew up around dogs, not service dogs, but I realize not everyone takes kindly to them. So if anyone complains, I’ll gladly back you up.” She reciprocated the smile, a gesture she felt comfortable with now that they had both established they were evidently dog people and that was a pretty good sign someone was at the very least decent. When she revealed the dog’s name, Eliza snickered. “Let me guess, it’s the sheer amount of fluff that made you pick the name?”