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i'm living for the right now i had a few friends show me how. i take a deep breath and blow it out. L E T I T GO graham ivy. forty-five. vet. retired boxer. trainer.

[strcnghold]

ircnlace‌:

she didn’t look like much at first glance, and that was why she was good at what she did. she didn’t look like a threat, and therefore she could fool just about anyone she wanted to. of course, there was no need to fool anyone here, so she let her skills be known. she regarded the man’s form with little interest before looking up at some of the guys he was with, “you gonna get him off the floor? it’s bothering me.” they moved quickly to get him out of her way. 

she nodded like it was a matter of fact. living in her world meant there weren’t many that posed a threat to her. it was just how things worked for andy, in matter of fact, she was more surprised when she had a good fight on her hands. this was just pathetic. however, what did have her surprised was to see a man like graham here. it was odd to see mythology come to life. it was even weirder to have him look at her like that. “i care!” she shot back. “this is child’s play. too easy, there was nothing impressive here, but you. you are a living legend! god, i remember seeing you in that johnson fight! my dad took me and god, i would not leave him alone until he taught me how to throw a real pouch. i made my nanny sew gloves for my teddy bear after that fight.”

graham can’t help but laugh slightly as he watched the man get picked up by his friends. a group of boys who moved with some haste, not even looking at the woman. he couldn’t say he blamed them, he wasn’t even sure he could withstand a hit like that, especially not when he wasn’t expecting it. she was certainly a force to be reckoned with, though the small competitive side of him wondered if he could stand in a fight against her. though, he wasn’t going to rush towards that. 

what blew him away was not that she had just knocked the man out, but the fact that she had no regard, as if it was something she did on the daily. not that he doubted that she would be able to. what surprised him all the more was that she seemed to be impressed by him, as if he had been the one to lay out the man without a thought. living legend? graham was at a loss of words,he hardly thought of himself as a legend at all. “johnson fight? you want to talk about child’s play,” he responds, with a hint of arrogance in his voice, recalling the fight. it had been a long time ago, but he still remembered it clearly. he felt as if he remembered all of his fights clearly, at least the ones that didn’t end in him being knocked out instead. thankfully for him, those had been few and far between. still, he didn’t think any of those put him in the legendary category. “that’s adorable, and clearly, he taught you well. i don’t know if i could withstand a punch like that.”

[strcnghold]

gracecolliers‌:

Honestly, Grace was a little worried about what his reaction was going to be– there were plenty of options. Perhaps he’d dismiss the idea and tell her it was silly, or maybe he’d try and convince her to sell the book once it was written. But when he actually spoke, Grace let out a sigh of relief. “You think so?” She knew he meant his words, though. It was really only a way of convincing herself. “I’ve started writing down some notes in my spare time. Thoughts and things that pop up that might be helpful to write down. I don’t believe it’s really helping just yet, but I think with time it might.”

graham smiles at the relief that seemed to come to her, the woman relaxing in the booth slightly. during the time he had known her, she had always been a bit of a worrier. all the more reason this would do her some good, he thought. he nods at the question, wanting to reassure her just as she was reassuring herself. “that’s great, really,” he says, leaning forward on his elbows, “i would just--write it all down. anything and everything, whether you think it’s important or not. then, you can really sit down and start writing.” graham nods a bit, “obviously, you don’t plan on publishing this, but if you should still edit and all of that. just so you get more time, thinking it back over, getting it out of your system.”

[strcnghold]

benoitly‌:

ariel’s expression faltered just briefly at the careful pronunciation of his name. it wasn’t that people didn’t try, he’d had lots of people try after he mentioned it – but most didn’t make an attempt not to hurt his ears on the first go. the tap at his leg made him shift, pulling both back up into his previous criss-cross position. “graham hugh michael ivy,” he said each name slowly, letting his drawl almost consume them with the drawn out syllables. long names weren’t common back home, he thought for a moment, chewing at his lip as he tried to remember the whole of the superstition. he hadn’t been lying, his mother had told him many stories of witches and magic, of which she wasn’t very fond, and anything else you can imagine – all of it true, if you asked his mother (and if you asked ariel, because no matter what he might say, he hadn’t left his religion entirely back in new orleans). but there was always that chance she’d just forgotten, after so many children, to give her last son a middle name. he didn’t care enough to ask the others. “don’t work that way,” he started with a small shrug. “two middle names’s just the same as one.”

tilting his head again just a bit, he let his eyes slip closed for a second as if he was trying to think of something very important. when he opened them again, they were back to being a wide and almost too awake. “ivy’s a weird name,” he said, still with a ghost of a smile on his face. “anybody ever call ya’ mr. ivy?“ a tease asked with a straight face, he went to lean forward a bit again, but the shift made his notebook slip from his lap and onto the floor of the music hall, his pencil going along with it. he cursed under his breath, some old creole word he didn’t know the english meaning of, and hopped down off the stage to retrieve it – he had just about enough room to lean over and pick up his belongings, as graham had been standing so close, and when he straightened back up he was faced with – height. “pardon.”

when the other pulled his legs back, he nearly frowned, making a note to keep his hands to himself. his name sounded foreign in the other’s thick accent, making the long name sound even longer than it normally was. not that he minded. maybe he even preferred the way he said it. graham had never been much of a fan of his name, as both of his middle names were just his father’s names--hugh michael ivy the fourth. he was, at least, thankful that his parents had ended up giving him his own name, instead of making him the fifth. still, it felt like they added graham in the beginning as more of an after thought than anything. his name was a constant reminder of where he came from, and who he came from, like his parents never wanted him to forget the legacy (as his father had always referred to the family). something he understood more so now, but still resented. at least, not being from the town, the name ivy meant nothing to ariel. not that it meant anything to most people in town either--something that took him far too many years to learn as well. when he was a young man, he had felt like that name would follow him to the ends of the earth, so he would never be his own man, only ever the ivy boy. “that’s a shame,” he says, tapping his fingers against the stage, “i was hoping something special would come out of it.”

“weird?” he repeats with a laugh. seemed strange, coming from someone who’s name was ariel benoit, with no middle name. but, maybe that was more common from louisiana. graham would have to admit he had no idea, so while it might sound strange to him, he wouldn’t judge the name. he actually does roll his eyes at mr.ivy, though there was still the hint of a smile playing on his lips. it was something he heard, mainly from his sister’s colleagues, businessmen trying to maintain a professional relationship with the family. something he could hardly stand. “most people just stick with graham,” he says, this time leaning in a bit when the other started to. when the notebook fell to the floor, he started to bend down to pick it up for the other, but he was quickly beaten by ariel. now that the boy was no longer on the stage, he could see how small he was. his hand quickly came up to hide the smile that came to his face. graham was used to those shorter than him--he was a rather tall, and found most people were shorter than he was--but he hadn’t expected ariel to be, not with the big personality and all. graham takes a step backwards, still far too close, but giving him a bit more room than before. looking back down at the notebook, he points to it, “that song from before, did you write it?” he asks.

[rcdwaters]

@strcnghold

it wasn’t time for his session yet, but eli didn’t have anywhere to be, and honestly? what else was there for him other than fighting? he didn’t really know anymore. so, here he was, warming up. his hands were just wrapped and he was hitting the bag. some combos, just a fast enough pace to get his blood pumping, nothing too serious or strenuous. he’d save that for when graham got here.

it was fine, but then he saw that one bastard that ran that camp. it was a flash, but he felt all sorts of things  flash through him. rage so hot it nearly scaled was the main one though. he started hitting the bag harder. he saw dead faces of people he knew, of people he didn’t. he heard their screams. he saw the blood. he tasted it. the bag was swinging now. that wretched face popped up again, and the rage boiled, it cascaded down the sides of the pot, and he slammed his fist into the bag.

“fuck!” he screamed in pain, frustration, shame, anger, all of it. there was a vague cracking sound and he looked over to the punching bag hanging crookedly. he looked down to his fist and saw the blood dripping from the cracked skin and his fingers didn’t feel 100% right. “fuck,” he cursed under his breath this time. he’d have to tell graham his, graham would see this, and he didn’t know how to explain it.

[strcnghold]

since the war ended, his sessions with eli had become more frequent. not that graham minded in the slightest, seeing the young man was often a highlight of his day, and he enjoyed training him, being there for him. now more than ever, eli needed him, changed by the things war showed a man. it had been what he was always afraid of, but there wasn’t anything he could now except give him the support he needed. but none of those things were really in his head as he walked into the training room, spotting eli from the door. the other was generally there before him, especially these days. however, the next thing he noticed was the punching bag, hanging on only two chains instead of three. it was something he had seen a few times before, and it was never a good sign. it took a lot of force to do that, too much force. even with a pair of gloves, there was some danger of damaging your hand. he sets down his bag without a thought, briskly walking towards the boy, any worry masked behind a calm face. 

getting closer, it was as he thought, seeing the blood drops on the floor, and some of the cover of the punching bag. graham rubs a hand against his beard for a moment, looking over eli silently. his hand was at the very least wrapped, even if it was broken, it wouldn’t be too bad. he wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but he had broken his hand a few times, probably in the exact same way. he knew how it looked like, and just glancing at eli’s hand, it didn’t seem to be any different. still, he wouldn’t say anything like that just yet, even though he was sure eli was already thinking some like that. “let me see,” he says, holding out a hand for the boy, “can you move them at all?” 

[ircnlace-blog]

@strcnghold

andy was at the bar, most nights were spent here, but yet it felt like there were a never ending list of men that treated her like a sideshow attraction. she didn’t mind too much, but touching was always a big no no. so, when this guy made a pass at her, her reaction was just to knock back the rest of her drink and take a solid swing at the man, knocking him down easily. she had been beating up men like him since she was ten, nothing to worry her.

she had heard someone try to defend her, but she wasn’t lacking in that department. “oh don’t worry about him, he’s hardly even worth the knock out. i appreciate the thought.” she looked at the man and something struck her. he had the face from a memory that seemed like a dream. it was a dream of titans of strength brawling to be the strongest. gods that she looked up to from her small perspective as a little girl looking into the boxing ring of the giants. he was the victor. “holy shit,” she couldn’t help the profanity, “you’re graham ivy!”

[strcnghold]

when graham saw the man, his immediate reaction was to begin a warning, beginning with a low, “hey,” as he started to rise from his stool. he spent more than enough time here, and unfortunately far too many men felt like they could do whatever they wanted. if he could help, he generally tried. but, he was quickly beat to the punch, quite literally, the young woman effortlessly landed a hit on the man’s jaw and he was out like a light. graham sunk back down onto the stool, looking at the woman. she didn’t look like much at first glance, but clearly she was someone worth noting. 

“hardly even worth the knock out,” he says, simply staring at the woman, unable to stop himself. normally, he was a relatively collected person, and nothing particularly phased him. but, now graham was completely thrown off. he knew plenty of grown men that couldn’t do that so easily, especially considered the knocked out man wasn’t too small. smaller than him, but as a tall man, he was used to that. when she recognized him, from lord knows what, all he could do was stare back in her in awe. “what?” he manages, motioning towards her, “who gives a damn who i am, look at what you just did!”

[gracecolliers]

“I have a very serious question for you,” Grace hummed, sliding into the booth opposite him. Graham had been her confidant for a little while now, and she knew that she could trust him with anything, which is exactly why she’d come to him for this. She hadn’t told anyone about it yet, simply because she was a little afraid of everyone else’s reactions to it, but she knew that Graham would never judge or think badly of her– at least she hoped he wouldn’t. “I think I’m going to write a book. About everything that happened when I was a nurse. I think it could help with getting my thoughts out… but it’d just be a book for myself. It wouldn’t go anywhere, nobody else would read it.” She paused and looked at him for a moment. “What do you think?” [@strcnghold]

[strcnghold]

at the request, graham quickly puts down the newspaper he had been reading, giving his full attention to the woman. it wasn’t often a conversation was preceded by that, even if he was speaking with grace. they often spoke of the serious things in life, he felt like he knew more about grace than he did anyone else in life. he took pride in being her go-to, and was happy to drop anything else whenever she needed his help. scratching against beard, there’s a serious look on his face as he listened. as this seemed like something important, he didn’t rush into an answer, sitting in silence for a moment as he thought if over. “yeah,” he says, finally, focusing back to grace, “i think that’s a great idea, actually. better than keeping it all to yourself.” things always got easier, the more you talked about them. not that, as quiet as a person as he was, graham ever took that advice, but he knew it to be true. 

[strcnghold]

benoitly‌:

“i can do whatever i want,” was his simple response, lifting and dropping his shoulders in a small shrug. ariel didn’t have a lot of secrets, despite the mysterious image he tried to keep up around the general public. one thing he did tend to keep to himself was the knowledge of why he moved to redwater in the first place, though not necessarily because he didn’t want to tell anyone. mostly, he just wasn’t exactly sure. maybe so he could do whatever he wanted without the weight of his family name on him, or maybe because he, ironically, secretly liked the rain. the first option was more likely, as he tended to have a bad reaction to water falling from the sky. he leaned back again, making a sort of ‘tsk’ noise as he shifted to sit with his legs hanging off the edge of the small stage – closer still. “most people don’t bother me while i’m tryin’ to focus,” he drawled, kicking one of his legs to knock against the stranger’s leg. “most people don’t answer me while i’m speakin’ kréyol la lwizyàn,” another kick. “so i don’t know if you’re most people.”

ariel had a way about him that could only be described as somewhere between smug and anxious, if something like that exists. he often went between fidgeting just a bit too much, and being so completely still that someone might wonder if he’d been frozen in place. he was a bit fidgety, as he kept tabs on this man. he seemed calm, much more collected than ariel could ever hope to be, and something about that excited him more than anyone else he’d met in washington. was he from redwater? did he have a family? did he want to know as much as he did? probably not, he thought, and made a little face at his own thoughts. he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the comment about rumors, ducking his head for a second before looking back up at him, thoughts once again compressed into something unreadable. “i’m called ariel,” he said before he could stop himself, expression back to that cat-like grin. “ariel benoit. no middle name, ‘cause my mama didn’t believe in those. said only witches have ‘em. you a witch?”

graham smiles a bit at the comment, adding all the more into his hard to pinpoint attitude, one that he found rather adorable. though he came off as a bit quiet, the boy had a certain energy about him, making him think all the more he didn’t belong in a place like this. redwater had always seemed like a place of retired old men and women, not for anyone so young. though, maybe that was just his own negative opinion of his hometown. this place wasn’t all bad, but he preferred something where more happened. not that he was an exceptionally outgoing person, but he preferred to be in a place with energy, in a place where things actually happened. redwater had never been that for him. not that it was all bad, ultimately. his sister was here, he could relax when he wanted. but, regardless, he thought that this other didn’t belong here just yet. though, if neither of them would’ve come here, this run in wouldn’t have happened. so, it wasn’t all bad. graham watches as the singer comes closer, sitting right next to him now as he teased once again, kicking his leg lightly against his own. it was, again, adorable. “i guess i’m not like most people,” he agrees, licking his lips briefly. 

watching the other, it seemed like he was trying to hide something, ducking his head down quickly. the singer was definitely invested in being a mystery, he thought, looking back up with that same, intense, difficult to read to expression. it was intriguing, keeping him wrapped up in their conversation. again, graham wondered how easy it was for him to do that. “ariel benoit,” he repeats, careful with his pronunciation, not wanting to butcher the name. he raises an eyebrow at that superstition, having never heard anything like that before. “only witches have middle names? what does it mean if you have two middle names?” he asks, tapping ariel’s leg with two fingers. "graham hugh michael ivy,” he tells him, leaning towards him a bit, “do i get extra witch powers, or do they cancel each other out?”

[strcnghold]

benoitly‌:

ariel made a sound that could’ve been a laugh, could’ve been a scoff, or maybe something in between. he leaned forward again, this time to get closer to his intruder – he deemed a closer inspection necessary to continue the conversation, and without the prescription he refused to wear, he had trouble doing that from any kind of distance. he blamed the war for that annoyance, as well – he’d been perfectly fine before he left, came back with headaches and everything in between. lucky for him, his concept of personal space had been compromised by being the seventh son in an even bigger family, so getting close to people had never made him uncomfortable. touching, on the other hand, wasn’t something he enjoyed so much. “ya’ knew somebody,” he repeated in his own way, a small smirk playing at his features. “some french boy with his words all proper, i bet. prob’ly real romantic soundin’. back home, we call ‘em –” he paused, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth and letting his grin spread across his face. “nothin’.”

he didn’t lean back when he was done with his shit-talking, and he made that sound of amused laughter (or whatever) again. native speaker was an interesting concept to him, growing up with three dialects and learning another during his service. he considered asking if he meant of french or english, but decided he didn’t want to know. “n’orleans,” was his only answer to a question that wasn’t asked, and he tilted his head as he leaned ever so slightly closer to the other. more handsome up close, he thought, if you liked that sort of thing – he thought he looked a lot like the european guys he met while he was in france, if not maybe a bit more tan, as if he spent a lot of time outside. blue eyes. ariel blinked slowly, studying him in a completely obvious way. “got a name?”

graham wasn’t quite sure if the sound was supposed to be a laugh, or a dismissal scoff, though he chose to believe the former. if only so he didn’t feel like this is was a waste, to be talking to this strange little singer in the middle of the empty music hall. but, truly, he didn’t feel like it was a waste, which ever way. this was certainly more interesting than the lone ranger. was this kid squinting? if he was, it didn’t last very long, leaning forward so there wasn’t really much space between them. it was much closer than he was used to, and the man was very aware of the space between them, or lack there of. not that he was going to complain, this gave him a better look at the younger man as well. “well that’s hardly fair. you can’t lead up with all of that, and cut it off before the good part,” he says, though clearly he had done it on purpose. he would play the into the game though. a small smirk coming to him, fingers coming back up to rub against his face, “besides, as a kid sitting here, singing about beating hearts in french, i don’t think you have much room to give anyone hell for sounding romantic,” he teases. not that he was wrong--it had sounded romantic, but he would argue that the other’s french sounded just as romantic, even if it was different. 

that sound was definitely a laugh, he decided, as the singer made the sound again. it was a strange kind of laugh, but graham liked it. the other seemed to mull over the question, before giving the short answer. new orleans. he was certainly a long way from home, and he wondered why he would decide to leave an exciting city like that to live in the far more boring redwater. at his age, graham had run far away, seeking a life of excitement that redwater couldn’t really provide. when the singer leaned in some more, he tilts his head, mimicking the way the other did. there really was an intense look in the other’s eyes, like there were a million things he was thinking about all at once, which was counter to the relaxed attitude he had. maybe that was what gave the other away, he thought, his giant, dark eyes. looking at them, graham felt like he could practically see the thoughts in his head. or maybe that was just because it seemed like he wasn’t trying to hide what he thinking, clearly taking graham in. he wondered what the verdict on him was, but he was sure he would find out one way or another. the question brought a small smile to his face, asked in way that said he might not have a name. “yeah,” he responds dryly, instead of just giving him his name. that wouldn’t be nearly as fun, anyways. “most people do, that’s the rumor i heard at least.”

[strcnghold]

benoitly‌:

so it had been a guess, though maybe an educated one. his defensive pose all but melted away when he realized he could go on being mostly a mystery to the stranger in front of him.ariel tilted his head a bit as he released his tight hold on his notebook, letting it fall into his lap as he leaned back on the palms of his hands. his posture tended to either be too tense or too relaxed, almost never anywhere in between. “pas très bien,” he said with a calculated smile, his gaze shifting so completely from surprise to now – pleased was probably the best word, pleased and cheeky and a little cocky. it was obvious the stranger felt some amount of guilt for startling him, and he almost said something except that then he’d have to acknowledge that he’d actually been startled in the first place, and he’d rather die than do that. easily embarrassed but not so easy to admit it, that was his way. he was more than good at hiding that fact about himself. he wondered what secrets the stranger had. he hadn’t seen him in the music hall before, but that wasn’t saying much. a lot of the time he was either too drunk to remember who he’d seen, or on too high of a rush to pay much attention to anything at all. he’d sing and drink and go home, not necessarily in that order.

ariel didn’t say anything for a moment, simply hummed as he studied the way he touched his face, looked like he was concentrating too hard to continue the conversation any further. the switch to english once again confirmed that theory. going off looks alone, the expression on his face was uncharacteristically cute. ariel grinned. “not by much, huh.“ he lifted one hand to run his fingers through his curls again, leaning his weight to one side slightly. “learn that in school, sugar?”

after he revealed his lack of fluency in french, the other seemed to relax all together. it was strange, he had met probably only a few people who could switch from one mood to another so quickly. but, he wasn’t complaining. it was much better than the tight ball he had been coming. though, the young man still had the intense look in his eyes. he wondered if that was a constant with him. if ariel was aiming to be a mystery, it was certainly working. he glances at the notebook for a moment, assuming that was where he was writing the song he had been singing. that is if he was writing the song, or if it was just some french song he didn’t know. he made a mental note to find out. he takes a couple of steps closer, leaning against the stage, a bit relaxed himself. though, not nearly enough as the other. at the comment, the corner of his mouth turns up, amused by his playful teasing. though he hadn’t said much at all, this guy certainly had a sort of charm to him. not just in his words, but in his posture, the air around him. he wondered how much of that was intentional, and how much of that was just came naturally to him.

“school?” he repeats, not able to help the low laugh he emits, hand going to cover his mouth as he does so. he hadn’t been in school for the last twenty years, and when he had gone--well, he had never been the scholarly sort. it had always bored him, not that he blamed the other for assuming anything like that. “no, i knew someone once, he had tried to teach me. clearly, it went in one ear and out the other,” he says, gesturing slightly as he speaks, before letting his hand rest on the floor of the stage. it was a fond memory, which was surprising, considering it had happened right after the great war. "you’re a native speaker then,” he says, though it was more of an observation than a question. he didn’t know any americans who were brought up speaking french, and he was sure the other was american at least. the southern accent gave it away, even if he wasn’t quite sure what region it was from.

[strcnghold]

benoitly‌:

the fact that ariel hadn’t heard someone sneaking up on him was a testament to how focused he was on his own memory. under normal circumstances, there was no chance of catching him off guard, as he seemed to constantly be in a state of tense waiting. for what, even he didn’t know. but he was surprised to hear a voice, especially one that understood what he was singing, and he jumped slightly as he looked up at the intruder with impossibly wide eyes. he’d been practically promised an empty practice room, after some vague threats and not so vague threats to the bartender – he flicked his gaze between looking past the stranger to the bartender he was friendly with, and back to the man. he finally settled on the stranger again, holding his notebook closer to himself as if he’d try to look at it. “le cœur de chacun bat, jusqu'à ce qu'il ne le fasse pas,” he said with some kind of accusation behind it, even if the meaning was lost, eyes narrowed just barely. the stranger’s voice matched his face, calm and stoic and very much everything ariel was not. he took a second to give him a look, up and down, trying to decide if the understanding had been a lucky guess or something more worrisome – worrisome for ariel, anyway, who tended to enjoy his ability to be completely unintelligible by the general public. he supposed with the amount of people who had served in europe, he was bound to run into someone who had paid enough attention to learn something eventually, but in his experience, no one had.

“parlez-vous français?” his accent was heavy even through the foreign tongue – and to be fair, it wasn’t the french he spoke at home. he’d used it while he was away, fighting for his country or whatever the fuck he’d been doing over there, and maybe he’d gotten a little used to it over the years. or maybe he was trying to be nice and be a little more understanding for the stranger in the bar.

graham hadn’t intended to catch the man so off guard, and nearly felt bad as he watched him jump. obviously, the singer hadn’t thought he had an audience, or at the very least hadn’t thought he would’ve been interrupted. maybe he shouldn’t just grabbed a seat, and listened to melodic singing. but, that would’ve felt wrong, like he was intruding on a moment he shouldn’t have. though, he supposed he was still a bit of an intruder, at least telling by the intense look in wide, dark eyes. the singer looked like he had been cornered, the way he looked at him, and then away, and then to him again. he thought for a moment that should just apologize for interrupting and leave. but, he was a bit intrigued. all he caught was heart beats until, the rest of it going over his head. you could practically see the gears working in graham’s head as he tried to run over the sentence in his head, wanting to understand what the other said. but, his familiarity with the language was limited, and it was spoken just a little too quickly for him to understand it entirely. it was one of those moments when he became frustrated, mainly with his younger self, who he wished had paid more attention when he was being taught. though, that had been so long ago now, he doubted it would’ve made a difference if he had paid attention then. not when he would’ve been out of practice for so long. 

when the man speaks again, he tilts his head slightly, ear more towards the singer so maybe he would understand a bit better. that, at least, was simple enough for even him to understand. graham scratches against his jaw for a moment, fingers messing with graying facial hair as he thinks. “un petit peu,” he responds, though the the slow and stilted way he spoke proved that he didn’t do it particularly well. graham lets his hand fall back down to his side, “i understand it better than i speak it. though, not by much.”

[benoitly]

closed for: @strcnghold

ariel didn’t practice in a public space often, at least not without the band present (and sometimes even when they were, it depended on his mood entirely). not because he didn’t like singing for people, or because he didn’t like the serene atmosphere of the music hall, but because he really didn’t like being watched when he wasn’t ready for an audience. he liked to be the one doing the watching, most of the time, and only made exceptions during the little concerts they would put on for the locals of redwater – and only after he’d made sure he sounded good enough to not be embarrassing. not that he’d ever tell anyone he even knew the concept of embarrassment – he had an image to uphold, after all. he might tell someone he was never seen practicing because he simply didn’t need to, he was perfect without trying. behind closed doors seemed like the safest place, he thought, and he’d spent his whole life coming up with ways to stay safe.

“et dès que je l'aperçois,” he half sang, half hummed as he tried to remember the words, mostly forgotten after the years of being away from home. he made a small huff, frustrated at himself, and ran a hand through his tight curls. he’d taken to sitting criss-cross on the stage, scribbling down what he could remember in an old notebook he’d found in the back of a drawer somewhere. “alors je sens en moi, mon cœur qui bat.“

[strcnghold]

there weren’t too many places with excitement in redwater. when he was a child growing up here, that was always his biggest complaint, and little had changed now, even after all these years. one of the few places that really ever had anything going on--or at least, anything graham would be interested in--was the music hall. and so, that was where he found himself now, nursing a drink at the music hall bar, making small talk with the bartender. he didn’t expect it to be booming, not in the middle of the week, but he didn’t expect it to be quite so dead either. not that he really minded it, but if he had known it would be like this, he would’ve just stayed home instead, to catch lone ranger on the radio. glancing at his watch, he was surprised to see that it wasn’t nearly as late as he thought it was. if he rushed home, maybe he could catch it, so the evening wouldn’t be a complete waste. paying for his drink, he was about to head for the door when he heard the singing. in the empty hall, it was easy to hear despite the source not putting too much volume in it. as far away as he was, graham couldn’t quite make out the words, but he still enjoyed the singing. silently coming closer, not wanting to interrupt the young man, he was able to catch some of the words. french, a french singer here in the middle of redwater. though, the accent wasn’t quite right. he had met a few frenchmen in his time, and none of them sounded quite like this. though, he never asked any of them to sing either. listening closely, graham tried to try and understand any of the words. he wouldn’t ever try to speak french, but someone had tried to teach him once upon a time. he hoped that would help him now.

“my heart beats?” he repeats in english, or rather what he thought the words meant. his voice was low, and deep. the kind of deep that stuck out in a room regardless of how quiet he generally was, especially now in a room like this one, where it was just the two of them, and the bartender at the other end of the room.

[strcnghold]

{NIKOLAJ COSTER WALDAU, 45, cismale, he/him, eli's trainer } welcome friend! you know, i just saw GRAHAM IVY in town. it’s good to see them. they’ve been staying in town for FIFTEEN YEARS and making a living as a TRAINER. not too bad. i hear they can be a bit CLOSED-OFF, but SUPPORTIVE. so, really who blames them? i hear they’ve been thinking about TRULY RETIRING. good for them. { aliera, 19, cst, she/her }

so graham is a dude who’s had a pretty eventful life, despite still feeling pretty young.

actually, he is originally from redwater, the youngest of two siblings (he has an older sister). he comes from old money in town, a longish line of people who’ve owned some of the bigger, like personal docks around here. so BIG old money.

so the younger of the two, graham never really had to worry about inheriting any of the real big business responsibility, so he kinda always just?? did what he wanted when he was a young man. 

and that he fucking did lemme tell you

when wwi came around, graham was only 15, but he didn’t let that silly little fact stop him. he lied to the recruiter (which wasn’t too hard bc he was relatively tall kid, and the military was desperate for soldiers) and then had his sister help lie for him when he originally got sent into training

the lie didn’t last long, his parents finding out about only three weeks into basic training. but!! his father was surprisingly cool with it?? he was very much the sort of Men should be Manly Men kind of father. so he stayed in the army, and ended up fighting for the duration of the war

needless to say, it was very Rough on him, especially as a teenager still growing and forming his personality. fighting kinda changed him, from a rowdy teenager to a more quiet, reserved person. it took him a while after to get over the shit he saw and went through. 

but!! it didn’t change him entirely. he was still the smart, glory-seeking kid he had been before the war. 

and that glory-seeking is what led him to boxing. that, and a nice outlet to kind of...work through his shit after the war? mainly just the joy of the sport tbh

he excelled easily, and quickly rose up from the ranks of amateur boxing to pro boxing. 

the second he could, he left redwater, using his boxing winnings to live in the great new york city. for nine years, he lived in nyc, boxing and going to parties, and just enjoying the good ol’ 20s. 

but boxing is difficult on your body, and he couldn’t do it forever. so, he eventually retired from that. he would’ve stayed in nyc forever if it weren’t for the recession. it hit everyone hard, and the family business needed all hands on deck. 

so he came back to redwater, if somewhat begrudgingly, and helped with the business, still keeping up with his boxing for his own personal health. 

it’s been fifteen years since he’s came back, and he’s warmed back up to it tbh. he doesn’t really work a whole lot, helps his sister as a shareholder when she needs it, but yeah. 

he does work as a trainer (mainly for eli lbr) but also for anyone who reached out, he would probably train them too but he doesn’t like advertise himself you know what i mean

as far as personality goes, graham is a super quiet dude. not like shy, groups don’t intimidate him or anything like that, but he would much rather sit back and listen to whatever the other person has to say. he doesn’t really go out of his way for anyone else’s company either, he is content being alone for the most part. he is slow to warm up to strangers, and has this kind of inherent mistrust of others. but, if you really get along with him, and he decides he likes you, he’ll do everything he can to maintain the friendship and treat you right. 

and that’s pretty much it! as far as plots go, anyone he knew from his childhood, other people he trains, people to work for the family business. idk anything just hmu

[bearsofair]

Nikolaj Coster Waldau - L'Oréal Men Expert