Cruel Acting = Tears
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thank you emily shepard for creating this moodboard!!
| november sixteen | outfit | xxx | xxx | english| welsh |
1139/200|crying in the Lavatory
𝓙t was, clearly, a horrid, awful day for poor Brookline. She’d noticed after she had burst into hot tears. She could not remember when was the last time she cried. It seemed like a long time ago. She stood in the girls’ lavatory, her huge tears falling onto the limestone sinks, then slipping off and into the tiled floor. Brookline looked into the mirror. She saw her father. Of course she just had to inherited his looks. His brunette hair and his dark blue eyes, and broad cheekbones. This made her cry even harder.
Brookline’s tears slipped down, and onto the floor. Her crying was not pretty and sweet like in books and imagination, it was loud, and ugly, and just purely drab. She swore over and over again. Bubbling growls about how cruel her father was. She decided she would not response to his letter.
-an hour before -
Brookline woke up one particular morning, November sixteenth, a Saturday, with a horrible rats’ nest in her hair. How the heck did I forget to put my hair in a braid, last night? She asked herself, as she used her brush to rip through the impossible knots. She growled as she pulled at her scalp. Soon she just gave up. Plain and simple, she always thought, but not today. She tied a elastic in her hair, fashioning her hair into a quick, quite messy fishtail. Then she took off her pajamas and put on a red and white striped fall sweater with a sleek black pair of Jeans.
The Ravenclaw walked to the Great Hall, and sat down at the Ravenclaw table. Brookline slowly buttered a golden-brown roll, and took a gulp out of a glass filled with cold pumpkin juice. When she finished her roll, Brookline took two small strips of crisp bacon. As she ate her bacon, a tawny owl flew down, almost scaring her. Now with her second year here at good old Hogwarts, owls flying towards her don’t scare her anymore. Oh how she wished her father wrote to her. But he didn’t. He didn’t wrote at all during first year. But would second year be anything different?
Brookline took the letters from the owl’s talons, and she grabbed her half-eaten bacon from her plate. She tossed it to the owl as it flew away. It snatched the grilled meat, and ate it gleefully, and maybe almost greedily. The she trifled through her letters.
Please, please, Dad. I want to get to know you. Please, Brookline thought as she glanced at the six letters’ larger print. Usually she did not get many letters, maybe two to three a week, generating from Peter, Winnie, and her mother. But Winnie only sent a letter, about two to three times a month, and Peter sent one every other week. And her mother sent about one every week.
But six letters? She only sent her mother a owl two days ago, while her last letter to Peter was about a week ago. Brookline found that the first five was from her mother, Peter, Winnie, and her sisters. Taking a glance at the last letter, she crossed her fingers. Covering up the name on letter, she took a huge breath, and thought, Please.
Dear Brookline,
It has come to me that I quite don’t enjoy being a wandmaker anymore. Perhaps I should build a vineyard and create wine? Does that appeal to you, my daughter? Would that appreciate our savings and wealth? Your mother is angry with me, how I spend on Alcohol. But am I really doing any damage? How much have I spent? You can tell me the truth, as I am your father, of course.
I have come to you, for questioning because I’ve asked your mother and she has said she has no idea about wand-making and it is up to me to decide whether or not to quit my profession. Shall I? Or shall I not? Your siblings has acquired and established of the role to not speak to me. Is it because I am away or they just don’t love me? Tell me, Brookline, as I am your father and you love me, correct?
Thank you for understanding, my daughter. You are reasonable and always my daughter.
Respectively,
It was her father, after all! But why be so formal and act like Brookline was a client? Damn it all, you little piece of ass for a father! I hate you, I hate you! I HATE YOU. Brookline thought as if she was talking to her father and ripped the yellowed parchment to shreds. Cursing all the way, she snatched her other letters with her free hand and shoved them into her Jeans’ pocket. She crumpled the shredded pieces into a little ball, and when she marched to the rubbish bin, she ripped the ball up even more, tossing the now-tiny prices into the bin. “Rubbish!” Brookline cried, as she stormed out of the Great Hall.
Brookline had to escape this. Now voices crept into her head, How dare you disrespect your father! Doing that would only turn out worst. She thought about going to her dorm-room, but students would bombard her, and then the tears would slip and never stop.
Then Brookline thought about going to the Abandoned Toilets, but she knew that a lot of students already go there. But then it sparked her. The lavatory! She would go there, and hide in a dark stall, til the tears that burned at her blue eyes dispersed and never came again. But as the Welsh girl swung open the lavatory door, she clenched her eyes shut, and the tears that had been burning, pricking, hurting, hiding in her eyes had exploded. The tears ran seamlessly down her cheeks and down her neck.
Who was she? Brookline never cried about her father. She never thought he was useless. She never cursed at him. She never cursed him, himself. She never did any of that. She only got angry when he spent her mother and his money on worthless stuff that could kill him. And kill him bad. But the only thing she wished when she thought thoughts about him leaving her life, all she wanted to be was to be a daddy’s girl. She wanted to play board games with him. She wanted help with his wand-making. She wanted to play hide-and-seek in the yard. She wanted to do the things girls did with their fathers. But her father never reached, never asked to play hide-and-seek in the yard.
Brookline lost control. She started swearing harder, even when the voices grew louder. Her ugly sobs grew, and she knew in that moment she wasn’t going to respond. If he was going to act like a stranger, then he’s gonna get one. He’s gonna get a stranger, who’s angry, and sad, and has his brunette hair. His dark blue eyes. His broad. cheekbones.
this is a open thread! major lore for Brooke but alas still an open thread that need its rp partners
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Cruel Acting = Tears
November 16th 2024
Speech: #cfa120
Thoughts: Italics
Daddy Issues with @Brookline Quinn
OOC Notes: Ayye my moodboard! And the gif works after all!
Quick! Bathroom! Bathroom!
Emily slid into the lavatory clutching her paper cut finger in her hand as it threatened to dribble blood onto the cuff of her shirt sleeve. It was bound to have happened sooner or later, Emily getting a paper cut. Frankly, it was a wonder how a bookish individual like her went for years without slicing her finger on a book page. Well, no time like the present as they always say. Still, not quite convenient in any scenario, let alone the fact that it was painful.
She reached the sink and sighed in a relieved chuckle as the water gently washed away the evidence of "Reading a book too fast that page 257 of one's favourite book (if not in the top five) managed to nearly take her finger off in literary enthusiasm." After a while she turned the water off and dabbed her hand and dried it off. It was still a little bit red but it was better than having her whole hand become dyed in her own crimson bodily essence... Which sounded gross both figuratively and literally now that Emily had gone and thought it.
She was ready to leave when heard the most depressive sobbing. Really, Emily hadn't heard such despair out of anyone like that before. Not on the level that they may as well howl at the moon in such upset. She quietly turned around the corner to see Brookline.
Brookline! And in the most outrageous tears! How did someone like Brooke get into a waterfall fit like that? She was a strong girl. That wasn't to say she was made of steel, but it felt very out of character for her to be in low spirits, almost on par with Emily being a hecking duellist for her House team.
But seeing Brooke in angry, frightful tears, cursing her tongue off, and the mention of a father. That was sounding familiar... Personal. And it ignited Emily's super instincts... Time for this Huffie to dry those tears!
So in slow, gentle footsteps she approached Brookline and placed a harmless hand on her back. She made no effort to try and turn her so that she was facing her, more like to send a small signal to the Ravenclaw that there was a friend nearby. One who was willing to listen to whatever was ailing Brookline in this way.
"Brooke..." Emily said quietly. She wasn't going to beat around the bush and act ignorant with what was going on in front of her, so she went straight to the chase this time.
"Penny for your thoughts...?"
Word Count: 478
Stats: Stamina: 7|Evasion: 6|Strength: 6|Wisdom: 8|Arcane Power: 7|Accuracy: 6
Abilities: Non-Human Enthusiast |Cat's Grace
Trust Yourself - Love Yourself - Be Yourself
iNPC = Casey Stone
Cruel Acting = Tears
Cassandra made her way to the lavatory with hurried steps. It was one of those days where everything seemed slightly off-kilter, every overly loud noise set her teeth on edge, and her entire body was tense. She wanted nothing more than to lock herself in a dark, quiet room, far away from other people, and wait it out. Wait for the world to resolve its chaos on its own and fall back into order.November 16thst, 2024 | Lavatory
Speech: #1f7f3c
Interacting with: @Brookline Quinn | Mentioning: @Emily Shephard
Unfortunately, a boarding school was far from the best place for someone who just wanted some peace and quiet. A fact she had become increasingly aware of over the course of the past two months. Lacking a truly personal space with no risk of anyone barging in, she had decided that having a stall to herself in the lavatory was the next best thing. Sure, there were always other people around, but at least she could pretend to shut the world out in the safety and confines of her little cubicle.
So, she had developed the habit of spending a lot more time than strictly necessary in the bathroom stalls of Hogwarts, fleeing there whenever things got too overwhelming.
Today, however, something was different. She reeled back from the noise the moment she pushed open the door. Cassandra was used to the normal hustle and bustle of the toilet areas, although she would prefer silence, but this - this was something else entirely.
A girl with long brown hair was standing in the middle of the space, swearing loudly and angrily, her whole body shaking with sobs. Tears were falling from her dark blue eyes, rolling down her cheeks, splashing onto the tiled floor.
Cassandra tried to figure out the reason for the girl's breakdown, but failed to discern anything useful from her barely intelligible swearing. She thought she might have heard the word "father", but had no idea what could possibly be the issue. Having grown up without one, fathers weren't exactly her area of expertise.
Another girl - thankfully, this one seemed to be a lot more calm - was approaching her, talking to her in a low, gentle voice. Cassandra could only make out the tail end of the sentence - "...your thoughts?"
She stood in the doorway, frozen, unsure how to react to this situation. It felt like intruding on a terribly intimate, private moment. She couldn't imagine having such an emotional meltdown in public. Of course, Cassandra didn't know the girl - maybe she was always this dramatic? But she couldn't help but think something terrible had to have happened to make someone lose control like that.
Maybe she should just walk past. Let the other girl talk the sobbing one down from that ledge - judging by the way the Hufflepuff hadn't hesitated to touch her, the two seemed to already know each other. And they both seemed slightly older than Cassandra - second year, maybe? Third? They would just be annoyed by a little first-year daring to think she could be of any use.
But Cassandra knew she wouldn't be able to get the peace and quiet she had hoped for here, not when still being able to hear the Ravenclaw's sobs through the stall door. And simply walking away, when this situation was so clearly unresolved... she knew that she'd be thinking about it all day. All week, maybe.
If she talked to the girl, she might be able to help. It wasn't the first time in her life needing to calm someone down.
Cassandra tentatively approached the two, halfway reaching out to touch the crying girl's shoulder but ultimately deciding to keep her distance.
"Excuse me", she spoke up in a timid voice, "is - is everything alright?"
Of course it's not, she mentally chided herself, that much is obvious. What a stupid question. Way to go.
"I mean - sorry for asking, I know it's not-", she stammered, trying to salvage her attempt at calming the girl down. "I just wanted to ask - uh - what's wrong? Do you need someone to talk to? Is there anything I - we - can do to help?"
Cruel Acting = Tears
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| november sixteen | outfit | xxx | xxx | english| welsh |
254/200|speaking with @Emily Shephard and @Cassandra Barrett in the Lavatory
𝓦hen the faucet started to run (Em), Brookline paid no attention to it. She kept on swearing to her reflection, pretending she was speaking with her father. But then the voices grew louder, taunting her, telling her that she was bad, and didn’t honor her father. And she was ready to throw everything away when a gentle hand was placed on her back. She turned her face towards the Hufflepuff girl. Emily Shepard. One of the most kindest girls Brookline had ever met. The voices told her to leave, and never turn back; to apologize to her father, and beg for forgiveness.
But she knew she wasn’t going to apologize to her father when he had did wrong; she did not. “Penny for your thoughts...?” Emily asked the Ravenclaw, her voice soft. Brookline stopped her “pretend speaking” to her reflection and sniffed, trying to stop the snot that threatened to come down. The tears didn’t stop when the Ravenclaw said, “Oh hi Em.” She raised a hand to her eyes, and rubbed the redness round them, drying the tears with her sweater.
Then Brookline sighed. She would have to tell Emily, but Emily wouldn’t tell, right? “Well, I, um, today, I got a letter from my fat-” She stopped as another student-perhaps a first year?-came up and asked in a small voice, “Excuse me, is - is everything alright?”
“I will be, I hope.” Brookline half-nodded. The girl started speaking again. “Um, maybe?” The Ravenclaw chuckled once, and another tear slid down her cheek.
yay! thanks, guys! I’m sure you guys with turn Brooke’s frown upside down!
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Cruel Acting = Tears
November 16th 2024
Speech: #cfa120
Thoughts: Italics
Daddy Issues with @Brookline Quinn and @Cassandra Barrett
It seemed Emily wasn't the only one to have had the same idea, as another girl came to offer her condolences to Brookline. A younger girl, a First Year definitely. Between her and Emily herself, the Huffie was hoping Brookline wasn't feeling too under pressure to answer or feeling caged in by the sudden swarm of concern that was flying her way. Sometimes too much sympathy could push someone further away. But that didn't appear the case, thankfully as ever the strong individual she was - or at least, going by their past experiences alone - Brookline took it all graciously, trying to ease them both as she smiled through her fit of despair, even a small laugh managing to bite back against the fit she was in mere moments ago.
Emily curved the side of her mouth into a smile as she watched her Birdie Buddy before reaching for a tissue in one of her pockets. At least, she thought she had some in her pocket...
"Come on, come on... I know I have a few-- A-ha!"
She pulled out a few sheets of tissue triumphantly from the inside of her robes. She handed them tidily to Brooke - had it been Scout, she would've dried her face off for her, but she couldn't help but suspect Emily needed a bit more time with Brooke before she would be able to offer the same privilege.
She gestured for Brooke to sit down so she could gather herself better; the poor girl looked like she was about to fall apart any second now. Emily remained at her side and invited the Slytherin Firstie to join them kindly with an acknowledging shoulder roll. Emily's hand never left Brooke's back as the room fizzled into a mixed aura of calm and chaos, neither dominating the other.
"So... You were saying about a letter? It wasn't a howler, was it?" Emily laughed nervously in her attempt to defuse the emotions hanging in the air.
Word Count: 365
Stats: Stamina: 7|Evasion: 6|Strength: 6|Wisdom: 8|Arcane Power: 7|Accuracy: 6
Abilities: Non-Human Enthusiast |Cat's Grace
Trust Yourself - Love Yourself - Be Yourself
iNPC = Casey Stone
Cruel Acting = Tears
Cassandra was relieved to see that the Ravenclaw girl had already calmed down a bit, reassuring her that she would be okay. However, her response to Cassandra's question whether there was any way they could help left her feeling a little uncertain: "Um, maybe?"November 16th, 2024 | Lavatory
Speech: #1f7f3c
Interacting with: @Emily Shephard and @Brookline Quinn
The young Slytherin desperately wanted to ask for clearer directions – what was the cause of the breakdown, and was there anything that could be done against it directly? How would the girl like to be comforted? But as much as she detested ambiguity, she sensed that it wouldn't do any good to pester someone with questions when they were in such an emotional state. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks, and it seemed far from unlikely that she might fall apart again any minute.
Clearly, the Hufflepuff was much more adept at handling situations like these, offering a wad of tissues to the crying girl. Why didn't I think of that?, Cassandra wondered, frustrated by her own ineptitude.
The Hufflepuff girl then motioned for them to sit down. She hesitated for a moment. The tiled floor of the lavatory looked reasonably clean at a glance, at least, but the idea didn't seem very sanitary...
Still, her relief that she had been acknowledged at all and her desire to comfort the other girl won out, and she carefully crouched down next to the Ravenclaw, gently placing one hand on her shoulder. Cassandra hoped the touch would actually help console her; and that it wouldn't be too obvious how awkward the motion felt to her.
While she was still trying to think of something useful to say, the Hufflepuff spoke up again. "So... You were saying about a letter? It wasn't a howler, was it?"
"What's a howler?", Cassandra blurted out, before realizing that there were more pressing issues at hand than her learning more about the wizarding world. Still, she filed the question away in her mind for later research. After more than two months at Hogwarts, there was still so much she didn't know...
"I mean - sorry, no need to answer that, I'm sure I'll figure it out. Is that letter the reason why you were crying? Would you like to talk about it? If not, that's fine as well, of course...", she trailed off, once again worrying that she was talking too much. Resisting the urge to say anything else, she looked at the girl with a small, sympathetic smile instead, waiting for her response.
WC: 412/200
Cruel Acting = Tears
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| november sixteen | outfit | xxx | xxx | english| welsh |
809oops, Im sorry!.... /200|speaking with @Emily Shephard and @Cassandra Barrett in the Lavatory
𝓢omtimes, a little preteen girl can get so worked up, about a thing that could be spoken or talked about and they are ready to throw absolutely everything, everything away, even their life. But this kind of feeling had worked its way up in Brookline’s Heart for a while now. It was somewhat a miracle, worked up as she was so, she didn’t fall on the floor like a infant who didn’t get their way. Sighing, she rubbed her eyes again, wondering if she didn’t have a father. Or a father who wasn’t so cruel. She could have simply averted this whole father-infused mess of a little mountain. But sometimes you just gotta cry. Let it all out. But don’t cry even more, Brookline, just breathe...
She saw Emily smile, and the kind Hufflepuff dug in her pockets, for what exactly, Brookline thought, as she rubbed her nose; keeping the threatening snot up and not down, not down and out in public. Then Emily revealed what she was looking for, tissues! She handed them to little Brookline and Brookline took them gratefully with a small smile. She blew her nose, and dried her tears; her tears were probably come back with the story she was about to tell but, oh well, no-one was gonna see those ugly tears besides these two awesome girls riddled and sprinkled generously with kindness and empathy.
Once Emily gestured for the young Ravenclaw to sit down, she hesitated, the grimy bathroom floor? Then she realized, it didn’t matter when your legs were aching from standing for long it felt like you were going to fall over. And so she sat down, in a heap on the tiled floor, sure it was worthy, but did anyone care? No, neither did the muscles in her legs, they never protested, once. They actually thanked her, in letting them sit, oh Merlin, they were beyond happy! Buzzing with excitement, maybe.
In criss cross applesauce style, Brookline heard the young Huffie speak. She nervously laughed, and Brookline thought a bomb was ticking. Slow and quiet at first, but it got intense and loud. Soon, she was ready to get rid of it. So she tried to sound it out, with thoughts, happy thoughts that kind drove the annoying ticking bomb in her head bye-bye. But it came back and it didn’t stop til Brookline started speaking.
“Oh no, I’d be more angry if it was a howler. Anyway my father wouldn’t bother with a howler, thinks they do absolutely nothing. Of course, his mother, my Grandma tells me all the stories and things he did at Hogwarts. They - they weren’t that pretty. But Mum tells me that my father was much kinder, when he was here, at Hogwarts. Oh, he was a Hufflepuff, it kinda surprises me, sometimes.”
Then the first year spoke up again, asking what a howler was.
“I mean - sorry, no need to answer that, I'm sure I'll figure it out. Is that letter the reason why you were crying? Would you like to talk about it? If not, that's fine as well, of course...” The girl smiled, probably waiting for an answer and Brookline was ready to give her one.
Brookline smiled at the younger girl, “No, no, its okay. Better learn what it is soon. Howlers are something wizarding parents will send their kids if they get in trouble or detentions. But keep a ear out for a loud stern voice in the Great Hall. Its bound to happen in the time you’re here.” She managed to even create a tiny wink that the girl might get.
Now to tell the rest of the story. Do I have too? Its gonna make me cry, Brookline asked herself, wondering why she must be the one to do it. But the Ravenclaw’s instincts won and she started to speak,
“Well, here’s what happened. And yes, the letter is what made me cry.” She told the little firstie.
Then she told the story to both Emily and the dark-haired Slytherin. “So, um, I was minding my own business when my letters came. I wished and hoped it was my father trying to get in reach with me. I opened one and i-it from him. But, er, he-” She stopped abruptly, rubbing her nose in content to hide the fact that she didn’t want to talk about it.
Then she realized that she might be selfish. Sniffling, she said, “I think you might get it. I think I just got so angry and, well I guess, disappointed that about him acting as if I was a damn client, when I'm actually his bloody daughter.” Brookline sighed, and pulled her hair back, she hoped the two girls wouldn’t think too much about it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to vent...” She said as a single year fell.
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Cruel Acting = Tears
November 16th 2024
Speech: #cfa120
Thoughts: Italics
Daddy Issues with @Brookline Quinn and @Cassandra Barrett
Despite Brooke's earlier waterworks, it was still reassuring to see the re-emergence of her smile as she took her offer of tissues. Brookline always knew how to smile in even the worst of times. She honed that skill much better than Emily, that's for sure. Had Emily been in her place, she'd have half the floor soaked in snot and tears by now, with maybe a little dribble between her teeth as she smiled through her own pain.
So it wasn't a howler. Thank goodness. Still, that then begged the question on what got Brookline into such a teary state.
And that's when Brooke dropped her bombshell.
Oh...
Dad stuff. Boy oh boy, was Emily well versed in those woes with her own neglectful father. Intentional or not, Emily never really forgave him for favouring his position as a rough n' tough businessman overseas than returning at least one letter after Emily sent him countless in her lifetime. In a weird way, Brookline was actually lucky in that respect.
"Aww Brookie..." Emily's hand took Brookline's shoulder. "I might not be able to understand your full history with him, but I can see it's enough to make you emotional. But that's okay! So don't feel like your tears should be invalidated. It sounds to me you're just a little frustrated over how things have worked out between you and your old man."
Emily smiled in self-reflection. It was like talking to an irate version of herself. "Every family is different, but I know a thing or two about dads being weird and stuff... Even my dad is rather... bland." Emily was doing her father a favour by being this polite about their circumstances.
"But don't let it upset you! If you do, you'll find that wedge only getting deeper. Take it from me, it's not all too pleasant a feeling..."
Word Count: 343
Stats: Stamina: 7|Evasion: 6|Strength: 6|Wisdom: 8|Arcane Power: 7|Accuracy: 6
Abilities: Non-Human Enthusiast |Cat's Grace
Trust Yourself - Love Yourself - Be Yourself
iNPC = Casey Stone
Cruel Acting = Tears
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| november sixteen | outfit | xxx | xxx | english| welsh |
360 /200|speaking with @Emily Shephard and @Cassandra Barrett in the Lavatory
𝓙t was sometimes sad when the man who wasn’t supposed to break your heart, did. Brookline offered a weak smile for Emily, when the Hufflepuff told her it was okay. She wasn’t sure how it would be okay, but she assumed it would okay in the long run. The Ravenclaw nodded slightly before adding, “I suppose, he’s ... he’s just a little hardheaded sometimes, and my mother is always rambling about how sweet he used to be. I’m guessing it was the ... alcohol ... that changed him. Because for most of my life he was engrossed on drugs, and I think when I was little, he was busy with his wandmaking, I guess. I mean, I guess you can’t have everything.” She wasn’t trying to be rude or anything, but she didn’t know. Everything was confusing her. And her eyeballs were hurting her.
Probably from all the crying. She thought, while running a hand through her messy knotty fish tail, as Emily told her about her own father. Brookline’s eyes crinkled, and she nodded, “ ‘Bland’?” She echoed, not that she didn’t know what the word meant, she just was a bit confused, how could Emily’s father be even the slightest bit rude to the Hufflepuff, she was one of the most kindest girls Brookline had ever met.
“But you’re always so kind and lovely to everyone, Em. Even my own father would
be lucky and love having w daughter like you. He’s always asking for better children, he thinks it is my sisters and I’s fault that his sons never ask him for advise or play football in the yard.” Brookline sniffled a bit, her eyes burning again.
“But,” Emily started, and Brookline inwardly groaned. She didn’t mean to be all huffy or anything, she was just tired of the word ‘but’. There was always a ‘but’, in every single circumstance, but she nodded, knowing it was true,“don't let it upset you!”
Soon as Emily finshed, Brookline nodded again, “Ahh, okay, thank you so much, Emmy. You always know just what to say.” The Ravenclaw finally said, genuinely, as she gave Emily a smile and a gentle hug.
☪︎
Cruel Acting = Tears
November 16th 2024
Speech: #cfa120
Thoughts: Italics
Daddy Issues with @Brookline Quinn
Emily was glad Brookie was taking something away from her little pep talk. She was arguably one of the most stubborn individuals Emily had ever met, but that only added to the strength and resilience Brookie had under that hard shell of hers. Whether she could see it or not, she was taking her predicament like a champ.
The reveal of her father having partaken in alcohol and drugs did shock the Huffie a bit though. It was quite a jump from Emily's workaholic, negligent-without-choice father. Truly a testament that flaws came in all shapes and sizes, some more bearable than others.
She gave Brookie another comforting shoulder rub. "I'm sorry, Brookie... Sounds like your father is a bit of a piece of work. Though maybe there are still glimmers of light in him? Him and your mother were together at one point, weren't they? Maybe deep, deep down he still has those feelings... And maybe more for you too. Perhaps he's taking it out on you because he knows it has an effect on you. Not that I think he's trying to make you feel responsible for anything, but maybe he's like that towards you because he feels it's the only way to get you to notice him...? At the end of the day, he's still your old man... And like the rest of us, fathers aren't perfect... As much as that stinks to realise. But I think one day, he'll realise just how lucky he is to have you and that there's a better way to connect with his daughter that doesn't involve insults...!"
Brookie's father would have to be a real jackass if he was treating her family in such a manner. While people often adopt manners from who and what they've been exposed to in the past, it shouldn't have to bleed onto others like a domino effect; the same way how the all-consuming work effort and negligence that encompassed Emily's father never passed down to Emily herself.
“But you’re always so kind and lovely to everyone, Em. Even my own father would
be lucky and love having a daughter like you."
"Ah... Well..." Emily smiled sheepishly. "I don't really know what my father thinks of me, since he's hardly home. Same goes for my mother too. The last time I saw both of them was..." She paused as she counted the time on her fingers. "... July"
Which hardly sounded like anything after all these years. To Emily, it was all just a "big whoop" that her father and mother would run off to wherever it was they went to for their work.
"Not that I'm trying to justify your father's behaviour, but at least he knows how to stick around..."
Word Count: 487
Stats: Stamina: 7|Evasion: 6|Strength: 6|Wisdom: 8|Arcane Power: 7|Accuracy: 6
Abilities: Non-Human Enthusiast |Cat's Grace
Trust Yourself - Love Yourself - Be Yourself
iNPC = Casey Stone