Arriving earlier than she had anticipated, Eleanor found herself wasting no time in loosing herself upon the dancefloor. Having preloaded on tequila before her arrival, the blonde was well and truly already beginning to feel the electric buzz as the alcohol coursed through her system. Having lost track of time it was only as she stepped away from the dancefloor and shifted toward the bar that she felt the vibration in her pocket. Pulling her phone out, the screen illuminating her features in the darkened club as a message from a friend displayed, confirming they had finally arrived. âHey, can I please get two more of these?â She remarked, raising a hand to motion toward the bartender that tracked toward her table. Only then did she feel the air shift as another appeared beside her. âYou know, I was starting to think you were gonna be a no showâŚâ The paramedic drawled, shooting the other a teasing grin in greeting. @nightreststartersâ
Lights shift, bathing the center of the room in hues of reds, blues, a mix of purple, just as they match the bass of whatever DJ mix had just been playing. And while Mal was partial to his stomping grounds, always feeling a bit more comfortable at his place of work at Sirenâs rather than seeking shades of the same comfort elsewhere, more specifically at Medusaâs. It wasnât betrayal, per se, but it felt like it as he passed by familiar faces, of regulars he knew back from the club, all posted up against the back drop of someplace new. He had half the mind to go up and greet em with the same cadence he normally would if they were ordering from his bar, but the urge had settled and faded into nothing the deeper he went into Medusaâs. Half of a Dua Lipa song later and he was right in the presence of the blonde he had come out for.
âYou think Iâd stand you up, Marino?â Unlikely, but that didn't stop Mal from feigning like he just got wounded. âIâm hurt, truly. I thought you knew me better than that."
The last thing the raven-haired woman had expected was for someone to push this thing into her arms and run off like a school boy with a crush he couldn't confess too. Kaylin wasn't sure what was worse, the type of men she sucked in or the fact she was still holding the damn thing as she practically waddled down the street towards the diner she agreed to meet Mal at for lunch. Her head turns when she hears his voice, furrowing her brows as she shrugs her shoulder. "I couldn't tell you," did she feel bad? Kind of. "Some guy gave it to me before running away like he had ants in his pants or something." She lifts her eyes up towards him, pressing her lips together. "This wasn't my idea if that's where you want to go with this."
That was....suspicious, though Mal wasn't set enough on asking about the coming and goings of a man handing out piĂąatas with the likeness of his friends. He also didn't want to ask ( or joke, rather ) that if whoever had handed Kay this thing was trying to be funny, in a bad ha-ha, you're next, sort of way. Not when the news was still fresh in everyone's mind over what happened between Rhys and now Maya. Instead, Mal shifted some of his humor back onto Kay and going along with the idea that she did something to do with this even after her mention that she didn't. "Ehh," He weighed his head from left to right, forcing his normally laxed features look to appear as something unconvinced. "Whatever you say, Kay. I mean, you are still holding the damn thing, so, I dunno. You look pretty attached to it." Like those wealthy ladies up in Soughton Estates who carry around tiny dogs in their designer handbags. He waved a hand off once he got a better look of it. "âThrow it away. That thing's finna give me nightmares inna minute." And he wasn't exactly keen on ruining his appetite when the diner was so close.
âWhat are you doing out here?â Dom asked, turning towards them with raised eyebrows. âShouldnât you be staying inside like everybody else is, after the news about Rhys came out?â
Mal looked over his shoulder, eyeing the space behind him after a split second of being unconvinced that Dominic was speaking to him. He only turned back when he realized the only thing behind him was vacancy and so the corner of his brow lifted. âShouldn't I be askinâ you the same thing, or are you out here havinâ a moment?â Which would have fine, and Mal would have respected that, if he actually believed him. âYou tryna cry it out or?â He tried not to grin with his teeth but a row of pearl whites could still be seen by the pull of his lips. âCos I can give you a min if you need it.â
Kaylin stands there, holding this pinata in her hands, furrowing her brows as she lifts her eyes up to the person who was coming towards her to meet her for their lunch they had scheduled. "Uh... Wanna explain to me why some guy thought this thing was me?"
His eyes had been focused on his phone, some tweet about something non-important coming into view before he can actually see it. Itâs all paper mache and big-eyed, Dora The Explore style, and he would have sworn he was seeing things if the sound of Kaylinâs voice hadnât broken the spell and brought him back to reality. âUh,â Mal wasnât even halfway across the street before he paused, breaking into a slow stop and trying not to stare at the thing being hauled in his friendâs arm. âYou wanna explain why you even have that to begin with?â He thought they were going to lunch. But heâd rather his arm be found in the woods rather than be seen with that cursed thing. âI have questions.â And many of them as he slid his phone into his pocket and finished his way to meet her. âBut I dunno if I even want to know now.â
Rami sat idly as he listened to the conversation next to him, the attempts at flirting not coming across well. After a second he was fishing out his phone, "Should I call 911 cause I can't believe how badly you crashed and burned." he couldn't help but tease with a laugh. Not that his efforts had been any better. "Why do I feel like we're getting worse at this?"
âMan, she was just asking for the bathroom.â And he didnât know where that was, much to their drunken disappointment. You donât know where the ladies room is, hun? No, he did not, and no amount of low lights and fluttering mink lashes eyed in his direction was going to change that. Not when his body was sat slack and comfortable in his seat with an almost finished glass still out in front of him, attention set on some game playing above their heads and on the bets made for it to truly care for whatever that was. âOr at least she said she was,â Mal waved a hand off, turning his eye to Rami after a beat with the tiniest lift to his lip to follow. âSo, donât go and lump me with you n' your series of bad game.â
[ kofi siriboe, cis male, he/him ] - was that malcolm riggs i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the thirty year old who has been in nightrest for twenty years and works as a bartender at sirens has a reputation of being charismatic, but also untrustworthy. they reside in low point & people in town usually associate them with crinkly green tips in a glass jar, gold accents with any outfit, & long drives along the coast. letâs hope the killer doesnât go after them next.
okay what the heck is this beta editor and why does it constantly want to fight me? like I was trying to jazz this up but it's looking like it's going to be basic for now. âđ˝
FULL NAME:Â Malcolm Devon Riggs
NICKNAME(S):Â Mal, just Mal
BIRTHDAY / AGE / SIGN :Â August 17th / 30 / Leo
HOMETOWN:Â New Orleans, Louisiana
GENDER / PRONOUNS:Â Cis Male / He / Him
OCCUPATION:Â Part-time shit-talker. Bartender at Siren's.
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SO, i'm gonna try and keep this short and cute for my sake and yours because if you know me you know i can talk a lot and i love my Good Son⢠so truly we'd be here all day if given the chance. but obviously if you wanna hear more about him or anything else on here, feel free to shoot me a message/dm on here or on dickord.
i'm also doing bullet-points because i cannot be arsed right now (:
( i also believe in the good ol' rp method of reduce, reuse, recycle. mal and allie are both old muses of mine just with a little â¨reshapingâ¨)
Kicking and screaming, eager and impatient, Malcolm Devon Riggs was born on one of the hottest days in Louisiana in the parking lot of a local birthing center in the backseat of his parent's old truck. Fourth in line to a series of brothers and sisters, Mal's life always has, and always will be, as unpredictable as his birth.
His family had lived in a small, bustling neighborhood within New Orleans for generations, the Riggs family name mostly always being associated with their family restaurant that offered cajun-inspired meals to the community as well as being a touristy destination for non-locals to oohhh and awe at. And at one point in his life, Mal thought he or his siblings would eventually take over and run the place themselves like the generations before them did, buttt obviously didn't happen because his father ended up selling the place and moving everyone ( even their granny ) from NOLA up to the east coast so his wife could attend a residency program at Mass General in Boston.
And being a kid at the time, Mal was pretty salty about it because it was like why are you moving us across the country just so mom can be a doctor? Sounds rude ( to him ). Didn't really like that, wasn't really digging Massachusetts at all.
And while his mom was doing residency, his dad and granny spent their time settling the rest of the family in some twitchy, witchy neighborhood within Salem so she could focus on her work.
Mal being at a weird age at the time wasn't really feeling that either because now they were in some strange ass town with weird people and he couldn't even really see his mom to tell her how he felt about the whole thing and it wasn't like he was going to his dad or siblings about it. Bottle dem feelings right up !
â¨Cue teenage angst. Cue all the acting out, class clown shit for attention at school.â¨
I would love to say he grew out of that, but he did not, and so this class clown, idgaf careless attitude for others evolved and sort of stuck with him for the years to come. And some people either love him or hate him for it ( ask if he cares !! )
Years went on and Mal, as much as he complained about the move, complained about the town, complained about anything and everything about Nightrest, he actually never ended up leaving for x, y, and z reasons. If you ask, he'll lie and say it's because his family still lives here and how can't leave them because granny is getting old, or because he still wants to be close with his siblings, or to still be able to visit his parents despite not always getting on with them. He won't tell you how he secretly does like it here, or how he doesn't know if he'd make the same friends he found, or get the same rush during spooky season as he would in NOLA. In fact, if you asked him about his time there today, he might not even remember. He moved when he was about ten, his childhood there and his childhood here blend together so badly in a house where memories were constantly made that his stories overlap.
He moved to Low Point sometime in his mid-twenties, had a bunch of odd jobs here and there across town, and even eventually ended up meeting an artist at a local gallery that he'd later think he'd end up spending his whole life with. We're talking smitttennn. Love birds. That song about the two people in the tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. Young love or whatever. And he swore they were on the same page, too, so he proposed and *mimics an explosion with hands*
Mal's very committed to whatever he believes in. He has an idea, he'll stick with it. He feels like he can trust you? He'll prove it. He loves you? He'll go to the ends of the Earth to show you how much he does. And for some reason, the years he was dating WhateverHerNameIs was pretty much spent assuming that they were on the same page, especially with their relationship since it wasn't like he really commits to anyone until it came to her. He brought a real fancy ring, played out a whole night, the whole nine yards only for her to return his question of whether or not she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him with 'I thought we were just having fun.'
Needless to say, he has not seen or been with Her⢠since that night. He's not even entirely convinced it actually happened. Like he still thinks it's a fever dream. When family and friends ask what happened, he just says he doesn't know who that is like Mariah Carey in that one gif.
The shock of rejection still stings him and he's the type of guy to take his attitude out on everyone else even though he says he's fine but is still very clearly salty about it. However, he does believe in the age ol saying of what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Sure.
He still lives in Low Point and he talks about moving all the time now because he is starting to feel like his 'good run' here is finally closing up especially with all this weird stuff going on.
He's currently a bartender at Siren's and he actually really does like it. I can't tell if it's because it's a strip club, or because he makes good tips, or because he's so thirsty of attention in a place where the vibes are always right that he rather be there than at home by himself. He's likely the latter.
Create yourself. Brick by brick. It doesnât happen overnight, but gradually. Over time. Develop yourself, and notice as you grow. See as you blossom into who you are to become.
