[align=center]#psychosocial.[/center
BY ONLY A FLICKER, WE CLING TO THIS LIFE
AMELIA MORGAN — ASPIRING OUTLAW
She never heard much about this other ragtag group, but the Van der Linde gang? Her mother would sit her near the fire, wistfully telling stories of what she heard from Arthur. They always started out good -- a gang of those who were morally gray, yes, but tended to strike back only once provoked. And if they didn't, they made damn sure they never killed anyone. However, whenever Grandpa was around, the stories seemed to twist into something evil. How she never should become like them, that it was safer with Grandpa, and since she was getting a proper education, she could be much better than her damned outlaw, yee-haw-ing father and his gang. Her Uncle, Jamie, tended not to put his two cents in but when asked, he would make up something bad about him.
However, there was something that seemed liberating about the lifestyle she heard about. Away from the law, living off the land, able to carve your own destiny -- not being stuck with the high expectations someone held for you. She could be free from her grandfather, his drunken nights, his hurt, his pain, his abuse. So, when she had enough, it made sense that she left to find her father. She just didn't expect it to end up like this, with a gun pointed at her head.
"Shut the hell up for a moment." Came another voice, once again, a man. The child notices that someone is near hear, shuffling downwards to be at her eye level. Her eyes go wide, and she scoots away as best she can, though she doesn't get very far, blocking her face with her arms. When she realizes she's read the gesture wrong, she lets out a nervous chuckle, and scoots back.When he attempts to take her hand, at first she pulls it back. He'd called for calmness -- why? So the others could see what he was gonna do? She gulps, eyes scanning everyone. She shuts her eyes, knowing that non-compliance wouldn't get her anywhere. She gently lets him take her hand in his own, and braces herself for any pain. When he doesn't do anything, she opens her eyes, and just in time sees his kind face, leaning down to offer her hand a kiss. After that is said and done, it takes her a minute to process things. "I... can call you 'Dutch'? Like.. Dutch Van der Lind-"
Williamson's voice cuts through the air again, focusing his sights more on the girl, his gun still locked on her, his hand against the trigger guard, for now. "See, Dutch! She is an O'Driscoll! Knowin' yer name like it's common knowledge!" He glares down at her, cold and demeaning. Who did this girl think she was foolin'? "'Sides, I wouldn't put it past them to pick up a little homeless girl and offer her money for findin' us." Half of him wanted to feel bad, having to take up that dreadful gang on an offer, but she was still working with their enemies.
She didn't have time to focus on her father. She didn't even notice him, her mind was a stormy sea, crashing and full of turbulent waves. She shakes her head, as if that will help clear it. Her brows furrow, briefly, but then she tries to put on a front. A sheepish smile makes its way on the girl's face as she ignores Bill, turning her attention to Dutch. If he was who she thought he was, he woulda been the leader. She tries to keep her voice calm and steady, and she tries a joke. "Well, Mister, I'd tell ya my name is Amelia Morgan, but I don't know if my father wants me to carry that name. So, I'm just Amelia."
However, there was something that seemed liberating about the lifestyle she heard about. Away from the law, living off the land, able to carve your own destiny -- not being stuck with the high expectations someone held for you. She could be free from her grandfather, his drunken nights, his hurt, his pain, his abuse. So, when she had enough, it made sense that she left to find her father. She just didn't expect it to end up like this, with a gun pointed at her head.
"Shut the hell up for a moment." Came another voice, once again, a man. The child notices that someone is near hear, shuffling downwards to be at her eye level. Her eyes go wide, and she scoots away as best she can, though she doesn't get very far, blocking her face with her arms. When she realizes she's read the gesture wrong, she lets out a nervous chuckle, and scoots back.When he attempts to take her hand, at first she pulls it back. He'd called for calmness -- why? So the others could see what he was gonna do? She gulps, eyes scanning everyone. She shuts her eyes, knowing that non-compliance wouldn't get her anywhere. She gently lets him take her hand in his own, and braces herself for any pain. When he doesn't do anything, she opens her eyes, and just in time sees his kind face, leaning down to offer her hand a kiss. After that is said and done, it takes her a minute to process things. "I... can call you 'Dutch'? Like.. Dutch Van der Lind-"
Williamson's voice cuts through the air again, focusing his sights more on the girl, his gun still locked on her, his hand against the trigger guard, for now. "See, Dutch! She is an O'Driscoll! Knowin' yer name like it's common knowledge!" He glares down at her, cold and demeaning. Who did this girl think she was foolin'? "'Sides, I wouldn't put it past them to pick up a little homeless girl and offer her money for findin' us." Half of him wanted to feel bad, having to take up that dreadful gang on an offer, but she was still working with their enemies.
She didn't have time to focus on her father. She didn't even notice him, her mind was a stormy sea, crashing and full of turbulent waves. She shakes her head, as if that will help clear it. Her brows furrow, briefly, but then she tries to put on a front. A sheepish smile makes its way on the girl's face as she ignores Bill, turning her attention to Dutch. If he was who she thought he was, he woulda been the leader. She tries to keep her voice calm and steady, and she tries a joke. "Well, Mister, I'd tell ya my name is Amelia Morgan, but I don't know if my father wants me to carry that name. So, I'm just Amelia."