I will prevail

Anyone can give up; it is the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone would expect you to fall apart, now that is true strength. Isabella Lucas. 34. Journalist. Guilty Ex.

[offactsandfey-blog]

nickclas‌:

“Well, you know–same,” Nick said, briefly turning his palms upward, shrugging. He’d been wriggling out of going to these things for years. He pulled a face. “I figured out how much I need to know to get me by.” 

A server came by with a coffee–Nickel had already ordered before moving–and he dosed it with generously with the cream, to keep his hands busy and cut the bitterness. Jason Young appeared in his imagination, fleeting images of him playing on the other side, having sought out the fey at his own peril. Nickel grimaced and sipped the coffee while it was still too hot. “Yeah? Jesus. How’s that going? How long’s it been?”

"I see... Guess that’s never been my style.” She didn’t figure out just enough to get by.She wanted to know everything. No matter what it was. She wanted to know the ins and outs of people. What made them tick. What happened to make them who they are. She wanted to know events and why they happened. If it existed, Isabella wanted to know.

She sighed gently, sipping at her own beverage- having been reminded it existed by his bring brought and also just to kill a bit of time in answering him. “It’s been.... A year and three months. Too long.” She had very little hope he was alive. She knew, sure there might be a tiny chance... but she knew something had happened. She just wanted to know what it was. “It’s... not going. It’s an on going quest to find more and more... nothing.”

[offactsandfey-blog]

forcstfire‌:

She was a journalist, after all; she was made to ask questions, to dig in for the juicy details, to ask the uncomfortable questions. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she did just that without even trying. Can I ask what everything is?

He cleared his throat, folding his hands on the table and letting his shoulders lift in a bit of a shrug. He didn’t really want to answer because, inevitably, it would end up in only more questions, most likely. But he wasn’t really sure how to not answer the question at least somewhat. “My dad passed away a couple years ago, my sister had a fire in her apartment…just a lot all at once, I guess.”

Isabella couldn’t help herself sometimes. Sometimes questions just... spilled out. Usually one at a time but there had been moments in an interview where she’d asked three or four at once. Just Why this, why that, who said that, what happened. Because something just clicked. She did sometimes feel like she was made to be a journalist.

She tilted her head slightly, something she did when she was listening intently. “I’m sorry to hear that...” She felt a bit bad for asking honestly- but not too bad. There wasn’t harm in asking and he could have simply said no. “That does sound like a lot... Is your sister... okay?” 

[offactsandfey-blog]

tylers-youngs‌:

when: july 31st where: central park who: open

Unfolding a small square of paper he had dug out of his bag,Tyler frowned. He was sure he hadn’t forgotten any of these, that he had definitely purged himself of any and all of the leftover papers, but there it was, in his hand. A faded missing person’s poster, sporting his cousin’s smiling face. He touched the tattoo on his inner bicep, remembering in detail getting it, how it had been all Jason’s idea, really. And Jason had always been good at convincing him to do things, stuff even Tyler thought was stupid at first. It didn’t feel stupid now, even over a year later. Instead, it felt like a bit of his cousin, left over. 

He sighed, and crumpled up the paper. He didn’t need it now. It was really unlikely that Jason was missing, and not dead.. He was about to throw the paper on the ground when he stopped. He carefully smoothed out the poster, and put it back into his bag. He had to hold out some hope still, right?

It wasn’t until he had already tucked the paper away safely, and stood up from the park bench that he noticed someone had been watching him. “What the hell are you looking at?” He snapped, something he couldn’t help doing, but would probably regret soon enough.

Isabella had been going for a walk in the park- a story she’d been working on had her head hurting. That- and the constant nagging that there was something she was missing. Something going on right under her nose. So she’d went out to clear her head. She still had her notebook and her phone with her incase she got hit with inspiration. She could add to the dozens of voice clips on her phone for stories. Or sit down if she had the time and actually write it out.

What she didn’t expect was to look up and see a familiar face... two technically, as she just caught the glimpse of the face on the paper as Tyler smoothed it out. Her heart sank a bit as her mind reeled over things she’d already been through more times than she could count. Her first date with Jason. Their last date. Breaking up. The last time she talked to him. Saying goodbye, not realizing it would be the last time.

She missed him.

However, upon hearing the raised voice her eyes refocused, realizing however that it wasn’t her he was yelling - but another poor soul, she sighed. She understood the reaction. The snapping easily. It was... rough. Isabella walked up behind him and gently rested her hand on his shoulder. “Hey, long time no see.”

[offactsandfey-blog]

forcstfire‌:

He smirks at her words, remembering the time they’d first met and Isabella had just started the journalist gig. Needless to say, the line of questions hadn’t exactly gone as one would expect, though he’d had a good humor about it. “Good, I don’t think it was your best work,” he teased gently. 

The smile quickly washed away though at her next question - not that he hadn’t fully walked himself into it. His eyes shifted away from her, searching the restaurant instead, as if maybe that would hold the answers he wished he could speak. He’d much rather be at the firehouse. “I’ve been working at the casino, actually,” he explains after a brief pause, a breath of hesitation. “It’s a change of pace after…everything.” 

"Yeah... I don’t think so either. Though it did seem to be rather exclusive. I doubt anyone had an interview quite like that.” She pointed out raising a brow at him curious. If someone had well that would be a whole different series of questions she had for him. She didn’t ask him all of them, some were quite ridiculous but it was certainly amusing and they’d actually become somewhat friends from it. So she couldn’t be too angry, could she?

“The casino? That is certainly a change of pace...” She nodded. “Can I ask what everything is?” Her wording was intentional. As curious as she was she did hold a fair bit of respect for Kevin. He was a friend. She wanted to pry badly, but a small part of her felt bad for doing so. So instead she asked, and looked at him with rather hopeful eyes. Hoping he’d answer her.

[offactsandfey-blog]

fuisecg‌:

          When the other made a point to allow Lark to join them, a sigh of relief slipped out as she visibly let out the tension that had been building between her shoulder blades when she knew that there was plenty still waiting for her outside this place. Cameras. Journalists. The whole nine yards would love to catch her with a slip of the tongue or a shake of the hands, citing her appearance to things that were not fully the truth but close enough that she could feel the sting of their accusations even when they weren’t given breath. Yet. “You are… thank you,” she cut herself off with a wide eyed look as she smiled a bit brighter at the other.

“I’m… grateful for the hidden nook. Too much is waiting for me out there and I’m not really equipped to handle it, you know? They want more than I can give them. They…” She shook her head, fear radiating outwards as she smiled through the painful way that she couldn’t connect fully with herself right then. “Thank you. Did I say that already? I mean it. Twice as right if I have already. But I don’t mean to be a burden or a bother. I can leave when you need me gone.” Because she knew what it was like to be both in the same place, feeling the way others looked at her when she couldn’t take care of herself. “Lark. My name is Lark.”

But they wanted Lorde. And that was the problem.

Isabella smiled, she thought the woman looked familiar- but she wasn’t entirely sure. Isabella was usually pretty good with faces... usually. Currently her mind was a bit too focused on the concern that this woman was in actual danger. The more the other woman spoke she came to realize that wasn’t the case at all. Something else was going on. She couldn’t quite put together what it was exactly. “Of course, anytime. Seriously.” She nodded. Not sure if it was something that had manifested after losing Jason or before, but feeling like she had to protect this woman.

She watched the other, concern growing at the way she cut her words off. Repeated herself. She didn’t seem like she was on anything, just very frazzled. “Are you alright? Seriously... If you need anything I might be able to help. Is someone waiting out front?” She asked. “You’re fine. I promise.” She reassured with kind smile. “Do you want to switch seats?” She was more in the corner, more hidden. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, though there was an easy way to exit it was perhaps a bit more closed off if someone blocked one side enough. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Lark.”

[museidea]

moodboard  »  the investigative journalist

[pagets-archive]

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It was too long ago.”

[offactsandfey-blog]

❧ nickclas:

Nick’s expression somehow conveyed a question mark. “Public,” he said, with the kind of skepticism that suggested he’d either not been told, or hadn’t remembered despite the best efforts to tell him. He turned and made eye contact with a server, briskly communicating with gesture, a smile, and a few words that he was moving tables; then he slide around and into the chair across from her as gracefully as if he’d always meant to do that.

“Thanks. I figure I’ll find out what it’s about when I get there,” Nick said, pushing the conversation so that the focus slid back to her, as easily as if it were a physical object moving on a surface of ice. “So, what were you working on? Anything interesting?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him at the seeming uncertainty in the single word. She did make note though - just out of curiosity. If she was too terribly bored maybe she’d make an effort to find where it was. However, if it was indeed public then it likely wasn’t anything that was unknown or new. Maybe the paper already had someone covering it. Maybe it just wasn’t her.

“You don’t know what it’s about?” She chuckled. “I would make a point to find out before hand.” Isabella pointed out with a nod. She made note of how he switched the conversation... if only because she’d done that so many times. If people didn’t realize they were talking about themselves so much often times they’d spill a bit more information. “Just finished an article- Nothing major. Another political piece. They used to be fun before I did them so often.” She sighed. “And still- looking for information on Jason...” She sighed. She felt like that would be the sentence that followed questions about her work for the rest of her life.

[offactsandfey-blog]

❧ forcstfire:

‘Busy with stuff.’ It was his answer to avoid talking about what he’d been doing over the last couple of years, but he couldn’t imagine Isabella avoiding the topic as well unless something was really going on. He wanted to ask her what was up, but at the same time wanted to avoid the question coming his way. 

“How’s the journalism life been treating you? Still with the same company?” He questioned, folding his hands on the table and raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah- still with NPR. It’s a good job and gets a lot of reader traffic. Usually hits a lot of hot topic articles too.” She nodded. She liked her job, of course she hadn’t really been anywhere else. She’d started at NPR during college, as an intern. And gotten the job from there. So she didn’t really know if it was the best or anything... but it worked for her. “Haven’t had to ask anyone what underwear they’re wearing recently thoug.” She grinned.

“What are you doing now? You’re not at the firehouse anymore...” Okay so. Maybe she wasn’t as subtle as she had hoped for in questioning his whereabouts since she’d last seen him. But he’d left the window for it there in bringing up her work. It was only fair she bring up his. 

[offactsandfey-blog]

fuisecg:

           Lark wasn’t Lark in this world. She was Lorde, as well known as she might have in the Unseelie Court but it had become a nuisance that she hadn’t anticipated when slipping out from Aster’s place earlier that evening. It was only meant to get a bite to eat after her phone died, leaving her without the ability to use post mates for something to settle her grumbling stomach. But the moment she’d hit the front of the restaurant and even before entering, there were eyes watching her. More than she could take. Eyes that made her skin crawl and want to yank out her hair to get them to stop staring, stop expecting something that she wasn’t completely in control of anymore as she slipped as far into the back as possible after ordering a small meal to go.

Aster wouldn’t notice her absence, but the world wouldn’t leave her be if she sat by herself and waited so instead, she found herself in a corner where there was only one other person. One not completely paying attention as she slid into the seat across from them with a frantic smile. “I hope you don’t mind but I need to not be alone right now.” Where someone wasn’t wanting more from her than her slowly sobering up stomach could handle as she glanced to her hands shaking beneath the table before offering a gentler look across. “We don’t even have to talk, if you’d prefer. But I can’t… wait out there with the wolves. No, not wolves. Expectations.”

Isabella’s eyes immediately darted behind the girl at her words. Fear of her being followed by a sketchy older man immediately filled the woman’s head. After a quick scan of the area and seeing no one of such a sort, her eyes dipped back to the woman now sitting across from her. “I don’t mind.” She offered a smile, not really caring what she was avoiding, more than willing to let her sit with her. Not only because Isabella didn’t really like being alone either.

“If you don’t want to talk we don’t have to, but I’m perfectly fine with talking as well.” She nodded. “I’m Isabella by the way...” She offered, not entirely understanding what was going on but wanting to make sure this young woman was okay regardless. “What do you mean?” She asked, innocently enough. Despite working being over for the day, technically, Isabella had a curious side to her and she couldn’t just sit by idly and not ask when the opportunity was offered so readily. “Honestly, I quite like having company anyway.” Stated in hopes that the other woman would actually believe her when she said it was no bother. Though she’d sat here willingly so at least she seemed willing to interact... didn’t make much sense to sit with someone otherwise, did it?

[offactsandfey-blog]

forcstfire:

A soft hum of agreement was all he gave to her return of his observation. It had been quite a while, and it was more than likely entirely his fault. He’d been wrapped up in his Fidchell and his father’s illness, had given up his position at the firehouse and essentially disappeared from all former social circles when Oakenfold become the more significant identity in his life…and none of it were things he wanted to talk about, particularly with a journalist. He was fond of Isabella, but she did have a habit of sticking her nose into things. 

“Yeah - sorry. I just got…busy with stuff, I guess.” His shoulders lifted absently, reinforcing the statement. At her offer his eyes shifted, maybe in search of where his take out was, before nodding and sliding into the seat across from her, “Yeah - sure, I’ve got a little bit of time. How’ve you been?” 

"Yeah we all get busy every so often. Like happens.” She nodded, letting him shut that conversation down for now but making note of it for later. Maybe she could get something out of him more casually than prying right now. He didn’t seem the type to take well to prying so openly. At least from what she recalled. 

She was pleased when he sat down with her, enjoying the idea of company far more than the idea of sitting alone. However she sighed a bit when he asked how she’d been. “I’ve been alright... busy with stuff as well.” How into detail did she go? She didn’t have any real information on Jason so it was all rather vague speculation at his point. Was it even worth sharing? 

[offactsandfey-blog]

nickclas:

“Dad’s in town,” Nick said, shrugging with one shoulder. With the phone in his hand, he indicated his whole self. “Doing some kind of endorsement speech. We’re a family, and families support one another, etc. This family happens to have a dress code.” 

The real reason he was here was because if he said oh I ate already, sorry, he wouldn’t have to tag along to the real family dinner, post-event. There was something in the phone conversation he’d had with his dad’s assistant that suggested there was going to be a tough talk about setting goals and achievements and accomplishments and maybe even a drop of Dad’s favorite word ever, legacy. 

“You waiting for anyone, or you alone, too?”

"I see.” She nodded. “Public event or private?” She asked curious. She hadn’t had any event of note in her calendar. Nevermind one where she might have an in should she want to spectate. Maybe it was private, or maybe it was just wasn’t something worth writing about. Not everything was worth the effort of getting in... with a press pass or otherwise.

"I’m alone, finished work early and decided to grab something to eat.” The article she’d had to finish had been significantly easier to write due to a rather sever lack of information available to her. Not her fault, of course. She’d been assigned it for that reason. But it certainly made writing the article easier since it was rather short.

“You can sit here... if you want. Seems silly to take up two tables when we could share. They might need the space.” She offered, partially out of courtesy and partially out of a curiosity to see if he had any information on the mysterious bar or any other information worth her while in general.

[offactsandfey-blog]

nickclas:

In an hour, he’d have to be somewhere, and Nickel was actually dressed for that place: the tie, the gray suit and tie, the shiny shoes. There was no getting out of a situation like this, so it was suffered through. He’d been warned to eat first. Catering was not going to be “all that” which meant it would be almost nothing. 

“Nope,” Nick said, his own phone in his hand.  He indicated another table, place settings for one. “Just thought I’d say hi–I’m seated over there.” 

Isabella hadn’t expected to see him here.Especially dressed as he was. Why was he here? To eat obviously. The distrusting and logical sides of her brain for once not totally agreeing on something. Usually they were one and the same. However, Isabella quickly ignored that and put on a polite smile.

“Well hi, didn’t expect to see you here... You look a little formal for dining out, here, alone.” She was used to taking in the facts quickly.  That meant that the single place setting and the formal attire didn’t go unnoticed. 

[offactsandfey-blog]

forcstfire:

Tonight was take out night. Forest had never claimed to be much of a cook (though, granted, he’d seen worse chefs), and some nights simply called for grab and go since he was often juggling training, managing the casino, and attempting to find sane pockets of time in between. What he wasn’t expecting was to find Isabella there at a table, alone - maybe waiting for a client to join her for the next big story. He’d barely seen her over the last several years and wasn’t much in the mood for an interrogation from the tongue of a practiced writer, so he’d paused in an attempt to figure out a way to avoid being seen - - - 

Well that didn’t work out very well. 

“Oh- sorry, didn’t mean to uh…interrupt. Just thought I’d say hey…been a while.” 

It took her a moment to register who was standing in front of her. Just half a second longer than it should have. However, when it did, she smiled warmly at him. Glad the shadow that crossed her table was a familiar face. One she hadn’t seen in a while, at that. She tried for a moment to remember the last time she saw him but realized it had been even longer than she’d initially thought. “It has been quite a while hasn’t it?” She asked with a little disbelief in her voice. “You disappeared on me.” An idle comment, hoping for an explanation easier rather than the more difficult way. 

"You’re not interrupting.” She waved off that comment but motioned to the other seat at her table. “If you’re not in any hurry you could join me... we could catch up?”

[feywildrp]

THE CONSUMED // Isabella Lucas. Unaligned human, NPR journalist.                Born in 1984. Living at the Ludlow, Apt. 05C.

“Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? Running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears. Wish you were here.” —Pink Floyd, Wish You Were Here.

KNOWN TRAITS // Social, receptive, realistic, diligent, regretful.

Ouija planchettes shoved under the bed. Light as a feather, stiff as a board. Howling at the full moon as a child. Supernatural novel escapes as an adult. Not enough hours until morning. Too many hours before an answer. Retracing tracks, looking back on things you’d do over. But you can’t. Living like it all depends on you. Xanax at night, double shot espressos before drawn. Lover’s side of bed still cold. Begging belief from the unforgiving.

History

⇢ Trigger warnings: enabling self-harm, coma, death mentions.

Isabella’s oldest memories are of her childhood spent exploring every inch of her family’s Brooklyn brownstone, more often than not ending up in the attic: it had a spooky crawl space that she loved to call her own. She read stories by candlelight, collected skeleton keys, and asked questions of an old, battered Ouija boardfound in a box of her late grandmother’s things. A young Isabella believed in the paranormal, in spirits and ghosts, in something just on the other side of this plane of reality—but as she grew older, she found that other kids were not interested in those sorts of things. Slowly, Isabella left behind planchettes and paper dolls for a Sony Discman and David Bowie. She focused on getting the best grades, becoming Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper, and winning every academic award that was at her disposal. Isabella—never Izzy, never Bella, but Isabella—wanted the best in life and she had no qualms about working hard to get it. Journalism was a natural choice of career, putting to use both her inquisitive nature and dedication to doing research and finding facts. That didn’t mean she was all work and no fun, though. While Isabella always fought hard for everything and absolutely earned what she got, she was still likable enough that her class still couldn’t help but vote her in as Prom Queen in her Senior year. 

While on academic scholarship to NYU, Isabella landed an internship at NPR chasing stories, which turned into a job offer. Isabella’s dreams were big and her presence was magnetic, which was what drew Jason Young to her at a fundraising gala. Jason was intelligent, sweet, and also aiming for the bigger things in life; the pair fell quickly in love. However, after three years of on-and-off cancelled dinners, missed phone calls, and belated anniversary plans, it felt like Isabella didn’t have time for a relationship. Their split was amicable, though tinged with the sadness of two lovers not quite ready to say goodbye. It could have simply been a case of the one that got away, if it weren’t for the fact that less than a month later, Jason turned up missing. It’s been months now, the hope of finding him long gone, but Isabella can’t let go of her desperate optimism, a strange sort of survivor’s guilt. Isabella turned her contacts and resources toward the situation, which led her to a cult called Clann Nuadha. Jason had mentioned “Nuadha” in passing once or twice, but reading the details of it made her head spin. What sort of cult holes up in the basement of an old restaurant in Midtown? Why was everything covered with seven pointed stars? If Jason was into neopaganism that was certainly his business, but how do the pieces fit together to explain his disappearance?

Occupation

Journalist & Resource.

Isabella is a Reporter/Correspondent for NPR (National Public Radio), providing regular reports for Morning Edition and All Things Considered and occasional episodes of This American Life, broadcasting on public radio and via podcast. When not writing reports, Isabella is chasing leads around the world and finding angles to share stories. She is tapped into the latest news, ready to break some, and also able to weave a timeless narrative. 

Connections

Vance: Vance is the NYPD detective working on part of the case she’s investigating. Isabella is trying to find Jason and Vance knows the most about the string of missing persons, so Isabella isn’t going to let him out of her sight. They have a friendly camaraderie and she is poorly trying to ignore her attraction.

Tyler: Tyler is Jason’s cousin, whom Isabella has spoken with a number of times. He seems genuinely concerned about Jason’s disappearance, but says he doesn’t know anything about what happened nor any Clann Nuadha. She’d believe him, except for the seven pointed star tattoo she barely noticed on his inner bicep.

Nickel: Isabella knows him as Nicholas Dalton, Tyler’s best friend’s older brother. He’s very charming—too charming—and Isabella doesn’t trust anyone that smooth. All the same, he’s pointed out to her that there is a mysterious bar on the lower east side with a hidden library room that she might want to check out.

PLAYLIST 1. Broken Clocks // 2. Wish You Were Here // 3. BO$$

Isabella is portrayed by America Ferrera. The faceclaim is NEGOTIABLE. Isabella is currently TAKEN by Harley and not available for application.

[offactsandfey-blog]

Isablla sat alone in the corner of the restaurant, her eyes wandered a bit out of curiosity, but she knew she was riding a fine line between boredom and simply taking in the scenery of her fellow patrons... and simply being nosy. Which, was kind of her job so really she had much less issue with that than other people but she wasn’t technically on the clock right now and had no leads int his place. So she let it for the time being. 

She checked her phone, as she had no company she didn’t think this rude. Finally when she thought that perhaps her food at come - she felt eyes on her. She looked up. Her eyes took in the person standing in front of her before she spoke.

“Can I help you?”