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Keeley Saunders

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41 Showing Real Promise

About Keeley Saunders

  • Rank
    Fresh Faced


    Hettienne Park
  • AGE
  • RACE
    Empowered Human
  • JOB
    Coroner/Forensic Medical Examiner
    While of South Korean Descent, Keeley was born a 2nd generation American and therefore her standards of beauty differ largely; only compounded by the fact that she was raised by a non-Korean family once adopted. Though the older she got the more she’d occasionally introduce aspects of that culture into her lifestyle and fashion. By middle school it started to become a sign of several things including her constant confusion on where she fit and her fledgling confidence as she grew into herself, and it all started with the love that grew for her monolids and the way they displayed her coffee-colored eyes. Perhaps to some small, but for Keeley it was the start of loving herself instead of hating herself cause of those differences.

    The occasions of coloring and perming her black to match better to that of her adoptive family slowly tapered off; the preference to keep it natural, healthy, and long; hanging down around her shoulders except when pulled up during work. She might fix it up when she goes out, but even that isn’t often. For the most part her choice of clothing is about comfort, durability, and what sits well on the build of her frame given her 5’6” height. Usually the wardrobe being comfortable jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, and things along those lines. When working it’s usually professional looking tops, slacks, and shoes that don’t limit movement while also being easy to wash. She doesn’t wear anything to work that she wouldn’t want damaged or lost. When she’s out for a fancy and fun evening then she might wear a little something sexy like a short dress or pair of heels with her make-up done up more than the casual stuff she wears at work to only subtly enhance her light olive skin — which tans more with time spent in the sun she gets an opportunity to be in when outside the morgue — and other features.
    Doting. Protective. Instinctual. Crafty. Pragmatic. Fierce Mama Bear. Perceptive. Wounded. Guilty.

    There are plenty of words to describe Keeley, but it’s important to know that first and foremost she’s a Mother. This has become an even stronger aspect of her personality since thrown into the post-Resonance world; becoming the sole protector of her only child with the intense experience of protecting him from the man she loved — her husband — when after returning home from a night out with friends began to behave differently and eventually tried to hurt their son. Striking her husband in the head with a fireplace poker seemed to be the best idea and leaving him for dead she took her son, called her Aunt, and ran to Los Angeles. This motherly attitude has always been a part of Keeley and only became stronger the more years passed. It contributes heavily to her doting, protective nature toward those that need help or that she cares about, and most definitely makes her a fierce mama bear where her son is concerned.

    Keeley is a pragmatic soul, and has been since her early childhood years; something about the no-nonsense and straight-forward aspect of things appealing to her. This was something that didn't always go over well for her during her school years as she tends to be quite frank when it comes to conversation preferences — beating around the bush never appealed especially with flirting — and she was also a blunt person where her thoughts were concerned. Of course, she didn't come to accept this more about herself until her high school years as the well-mannered, polite aspects taught to her as a young child by her birth family made her feel shame for behaving in this manner and overpowered her for some time until she could overcome that part of herself. Those same feelings of shame about what is right and what is wrong still come to the fore on occasion where her sexuality is concerned, but she refuses to cave and will continue the rest of her life to fight those feelings. This pragmatic attitude also leads to her being quite professional and practical where her work is concerned. She’s not one for discussing theories of what might've happened.

    The work she does as a coroner, and forensic medical examiner, is almost instinctual; as if she was suited toward it from out of the womb, and her perceptive nature helps as well. This instinct bleeds into her love of do-it-yourself crafts and love of fixing, and building, things. The need to use her hands is always strong especially when she’s stressed. As far as her perceptiveness goes, it has become more of a skill when utilized with her ability, but she’s always noticed things and while she is proud of this gift there’s still that small, inner child who knows it’s this aspect of her that was responsible for turning in her birth parents.

    She has overcome the overwhelming need for idealized perfection, and the distaff and contrast that she dealt with early on during the adoption by the Saunders as well; all of which has led to her being a stronger person. Yet there’s still guilt for turning in her birth parents, the abandonment of her blood relatives when she was only doing what was right, and — in a way — for so easily moving on from them and that part of her life after being taken in by the Saunders even before the adoption happened. They always sought to make her a better person, a stronger person, to soothe the wounds and guilt left behind from that part and in many ways they've succeeded though on occasion it’ll crop up during weaker moments. Now, she moreso deals with the invisible wounds created by grief and self-blame: for possibly killing her husband, or at least for leaving him for dead without checking on his well-being, and for not being able to better help or protect her son. The destruction of her small family is a failure she puts squarely on her shoulders and it’s a heavy weight. Being tied to certain organizations with poor, or outright criminal, reputations makes her feel worse, but she buries that under the justification that she’ll do whatever it takes to help and protect her son. Unable to properly deal with the grief, or to fix the situation, she deals with it by throwing herself into her work or into bed with another no-strings partner.

    All that aside, Keeley is a not a harsh person, though she can come off cold and unfriendly at times, but in truth she’s warm once people get to know her. She’s also an open-minded, intellectual individual who loves sleigh rides and music and board games and swimming among other things. Oh, and wine and liquor. She does like to go out and have fun, let her hair down, on occasion. She has been said to be a bit of a romantic, but her ideas about relationships are quite modern.
    — TOOLS —
    For work purposes, so during work hours, she carries things that are useful such as a small wrapped loop of paracord, a multi-tool, a Led Lenser P2 flashlight, an old Sony ICD-SX712 digital voice recorder. She also has a carabiner with multiple retractable strings attached to keys, flashlight, a pocketwatch that she keeps attached to the pocket of her shirt where she also carries a small notebook and pen. Given her practical nature this means that on some of her accessories/jewelry there can be found paracord to be used for any emergency needs.

    — WEAPONS —
    Keeley carries on her person a black Taser either inside a pocket in her purse or in a holster located at the back of her left hip. She also carries a Glock 33 in a holster in the designated compartment of her concealed carry purse which is usually a large black one where she carries an extra magazine in the extra pocket for it unless she has a special event when she carries a different bag that requires her to keep the magazine in a sweater/coat or pant pocket.

    — MEMENTOS —
    These are items that Keeley managed to grab from her home on the night she fled: Certain pieces of jewelry given to her by her parents, her siblings, her husband; her son’s baby book, first pair of shoes, the outfit she brought him home in from the hospital; several photo albums; her not even half-filled first family album.
    Bakkhos, ARMA, OFL


    Understanding what happened to the dead is something that Keeley has always tried to do, but to the degree that occurred post-Resonance was never imagined. Being able to literally experience what happened to them is both a blessing and a curse. When Resonance occurred, Keeley found herself unconscious for several days and when she awoke everything felt different. It wasn’t until nearly a week later, while walking past a crime scene on the way to her job, that she became aware of what exactly happened. This person had been beaten to death with a bat, but for Keeley it was vastly different than just seeing what happened: she had a full on bodily experience that left her with physical lacerations and bruises that took months to heal. A naturally terrifying experience that left her wondering if she wanted to continue with her work, but when she realized that she could identify the murderer that made the decision — even if her family and fiance were far from pleased — as she could fully experience sight, smell, touch, sound, taste in ways that simply handling the crime scene afterward didn’t quite allow.

    This only seems to work with bodies that are no more than 3 months old. Keeley, when in the hold of this ability, is fully aware of her surroundings and what is happening; she is there as if a witness yet suffers a portion of what the victim suffered. This wounds her not only physically and internally, but also leaves wounds upon her soul. The latter seems to take the brunt of the injuries and minimize the damage so that it’s only a third to a half of what the victim suffered. However, Keeley has suffered a number of injuries that have left her down for weeks to months at a time especially during the earlier years when her ability was less in her own power to control; she has in the last four years learned to completely control it and can be selective with when using it and on what victims.

    She has suffered damage to her heart, including a stroke, and head trauma amongst other things like a snapped neck which was only kept from killing her due to the close proximity of a healer and the minimized damage. While her abilities seem to come with some natural healing through rest or longer duration of time between use of ability there are some things that can only be fully healed by a combination of traditional medicine, magical healing, and therapy. The injuries to her soul is healed utilizing special concoctions of herbal remedies, variance dependent upon the type of damage her soul has suffered, but at drastic times when the damage might be too severe and need immediate recovery it can require several healing magus to help mend her. Due to the potential severity of some cases, and some injuries that she could suffer, Keeley takes precautions when it comes to choosing what victims she’ll experience as putting herself at risk is hazardous and results in lectures from those treating her recovery; especially if she should do it when not taking care of herself properly as far as sleep and food though this is something she has only done in when required by extreme need.

    Depending on how severe and painful an injury inflicted upon a victim happens to be her body and soul can try to minimize the pain by spreading the pain out. This can cause the injuries to be inflicted on other living people in close proximity — anything further than 25 feet being the safe distance though closed doors and walls seem to be a sufficient barrier — which is why Keeley prefers to do this when alone. Or at least keep any living creature at a specific distance before attempting it. Though, should someone be willing/crazy enough to want to share the pain and help her through a particularly difficult experience, that damage suffered will be split equally between them and both will need to be helped with recovery; though the person helping will need to solely rely on their own abilities, should they have any that aid in withstanding pain or healing from injury, or rely on the healers/doctors as her own healing is only self.
    —Self-Defense Skills including Gun Experience—

    While not experienced prior to Resonance outside of some basic gun instructions from her husband, she has since become more equipped with a gun post-Resonance out of necessity. It is one of the only ways she can really protect herself if either her basic self-defense skills or taser doesn't work.


    While this is not a trait most would necessarily consider a skill in itself, Keeley considers it so as her natural perceptiveness has come in hand more than once throughout her life and is largely useful where her work, and her altered ability, is concerned.


    DIY and anything crafty has always been a go-to for Keeley when it comes to relieving stress or relaxing. She also knows her way around a toolbox and fixing up the house; her fiance/husband being the inept one in the house when it came to things like fixing the leaky sink, etc.

    —Make-Up & Hair—

    She can do sufficient work on make-up and hear as for a brief period during high school she volunteered under a mortician and working on the living is tons easier than working on the dead. If for some reason she should ever find herself out of the work preferred, she could probably get a job at a salon — admittedly not an ideal thought to her.

    —Fiction Writing—

    For pleasure, and admittedly to supplement her income a little, Keeley keeps a blog where she writes fictional tales of actual experiences involving her work. This blog is titled #MorgueStories. Why? Cause why not. Plus writing everything out is a nice release of all the stuff left over in her head from the experiences. She also on occasion sells little stories to papers/magazines.
    Keeley Min-seon was born in Astoria, Oregon where her parents, Jack Dae-ho & Rebecca Eun-chae Yoon, ran a high-ranking and highly esteemed funeral parlor. Jack was a Funeral Director and Mortician while Rebecca was a Mortuary Beautician who ran a beauty salon in the basement of their home which afforded them a more than comfortable lifestyle. Normal, happy childhood that wasn’t much different than any other child except for the fact that her parents worked a good deal with the dead. This taught her certain things like a respect for the dead that was partially culturally related. Being of South Korean descent meant that she had some pressure on her, though not as much being 2nd gen American, until the scandal when Keeley saw something unusual more than once — an item in her Mom’s jewelry box or a tie on her Father that looked like it’d belonged to those buried — and made the decision to contact the police. This started an investigation that led to the downfall of her family and the business.

    Deciding to go against her parents, and turn them in, at the age of 9-years-old was not easy. Busted for crimes such as stealing money from clients, re-using coffins, dumping bodies and unauthorized cremations, stealing valuables and burial clothes to re-sell them they were viewed unfavorably in society. However, Keeley was viewed worse by her own kin. When it was discovered that she was being mistreated by the relatives that took her in, and that her parents had dangerous criminal ties, she was placed into the system in an effort to protect her and placed with a family in Portland until the trial.

    The Saunders were a respectable, upper middle class family who already had four children of their own. Fraser Saunders, a Pediatrician with his own clinic, was a fun-loving sort who taught his children compassion among other things. Eileen Saunders, a Physics Professor at Reed College, was the firm parent who taught them the consequences of actions while also holding them to higher educational expectations than their own teachers, but still doted on them quite a deal. Neither were perfect though they were loving, caring parents with good morals. Once her part in the trial was done, and not wanting to be associated with the scandal anymore, she sought permission to be adopted by them and change her name. Once lucky enough to have both granted, Keeley found herself better feeling like part of the family.

    The desire to become a Forensic Medical Examiner, or Coroner, seemed to stem from her early childhood fascination with the dead as a result of what her biological parents did for a living. College and medical school was one through the combination of scholarships and help from her parents; attending Reed College for four years then going on to Oregon Health & Sciences University(OHSU) for medical school.

    During Resonance, in May 2010, Keeley became an orphan. Three years prior Eileen had lost her fight to breast cancer and then during Resonance Fraser suffered an aneurysm while turning into “something inhuman” according to her Aunt Mara who had been with him when it happened. A couple months following that loss, she married Jonathon,her fiance of three years; her older brother, Cameron, walking her down the aisle in place of their Father to give her away. On June 12th, 2011, while working as a pathologist during her maternity — unable to be around the dead while pregnant due to her ability — she went into labor at work and gave birth to a beautiful boy, Micah Aiden, who would become the focus of her husband and herself. While the world was definitely topsy-turvy compared to its former existence, Keeley and Jonathon were happy and had a reasonably normal life only enhanced by the addition to their little family. They looked forward to it continuing to grow, but. . . that would not be the case.

    When things start to build themselves higher, the fall as it crashes down hurts all the more.

    For two years, everything continued to go on a pleasantly. Even with the chaos in this new world, and the oddities of learning to adapt to living in it, Keeley and her little family were content. She still had her siblings that lived reasonably close, or if they lived further would make a point to call or visit when possible, and she had finished her fellowship. Then, 3 days after Micah’s birthday nothing would be right again. She’s still not quite sure what happened; some say another event happened, as was known to occasionally occur, but what she knows for sure is: Micah had been laid up in bed sick for a couple days with a sudden cold and that her husband, who had been away for a week on a business trip, returned home acting nothing like himself and tried to attack his own son. In a panic, fearing for the safety of her son, she grabbed a fireplace poker and slammed it down on his head twice. Hitting Jonathon as hard as possible until he fell unconscious to the floor. Unsure if he was alive or dead, but fearing that if not then he’d try to attack Micah, or herself, again — she ran.

    At first it was only to her Aunt Mara’s one city over, but when she realized that Micah was getting worse: seizures, severe fevers, screams of agony. . . and he was displaying alarming abilities that she’d only heard of in reports about trained magus working with the Order, who were also definitely not children, she couldn’t figure out how to help him. Frightened that she might lose her son after just losing her husband, she decided to take him to the OFL in New York. That they could help him was all she was thinking about at that time. Having not a single clue how to get him there, and struggling as her limited funds were being depleted by caring for Micah, she contacted a foster brother, Stefan, who she was still fairly close with and told him the situation. That was how she ended up having a phone conversation with one Derrick Mason Gray and developing ties to Bakkhos; a conversation that would turn into a face-to-face only days after one of the woman’s men, Etan Jaeger, was sent to fetch them. It was also a conversation that’d leave her with permanent ties to Bakkhos — a crime organization. Oh, how her birth parents would’ve delighted.

    Once in New York, she contacted the Order immediately with her plight and soon Keeley’s precious son, and the last part of her little family, was put in a magic-induced coma. The only way to save him until they could figure out what to do; something that might not even come to fruition until well after he hit puberty. They kept him in their own facility for his well-being and care, and she’d get to visit. Some days, they could bring him out and successfully bind him for a week which gave Keeley and Micah a chance to spend time together, but inevitably he always ended up back in the coma.

    And so became her life in New York. Two years ago the former Coroner passed and Keeley took his job — having gotten her license for NY shortly after settling in and finding a job — which allowed her to be comfortable. Of course, the situation with ARMA and the OFL has left her in quite a bind. The only successful person that could maintain her son was OFL and ARMA had taken control of the HQ where her son was still residing, and that put her. . . and him. . . right in the middle. The ARMA healers are, of course, doing their best, but Keeley knows that she needs to convince them to work with the magus that can actually help her son; especially since he’s rarely brought out of the coma these days and she misses him. Somehow, she hopes to find a middle-ground that will allow them to work together. If not, a place to transfer him where he can be better taken care of in future.

    4 years Bachelor’s Degree @ Portland State University (21) - 2002
    4 years Medical School @ OHSU(Oregon Health & Science University) (25) - 2006
    5 years Residency(Clinical Pathology & Anatomic) (30) - 2011
    2 years Fellowship(sub-specialty Forensic Pathology) (32) - 2013

    Can practice in Oregon, New York, and L.A. currently
    Son is currently 6-years-old


    Son, Micah, is currently 9-years-old

    Keels' birthdate: April 27, 1981

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  1. Need MOAR threads <3

  2. Keeley Saunders

    Another Skull Another Face

    [keeley]You need some sleep.[/keeley] There wasn’t any polite preamble to the statement. Just the statement itself accompanied by a disapproving look. Keeley knew well what it was like to be taken hostage by a particular case. It happened in her work and in others, of course, such as the current situation with the ARMA operative. The man was practically lost to it, and as it was personal that made the hold even worse. With Nevena though, she knew that the woman was more determined to resolve this case as it was a child. That made everything harder especially when one could see what had happened. Closing the door behind her, Keeley stepped inside the office and looked around. It wasn’t exactly a disaster zone, but it was messy enough to show that it could use a little cleaning. Already it showed signs that her friend was settling in to spend a lot of time here as she worked on this case. Possibly even sleep here. [keeley]You should go home and sleep tonight. The skull will wait.[/keeley] The suggestion was given though she doubted it’d be taken. The bag strap was removed from her neck, left to dangle toward the ground as Keeley clutched the bag part in hand and began to undo the locked clasp. [keeley]I got you the autopsy file and the case file from the NYPD.[/keeley] A frown made brows dip in and down as she sighed, adding in obvious irritation, [keeley]There wasn’t a lot. The case had no real leads. Nobody saw who dumped the body. . . or if they did, they weren’t talking. And the autopsy was thorough, but there wasn’t a lot to work with by the time it was found.[/keeley] That was why Nevena was having to reconstruct the face. Nobody knew what the small child had looked like due to the damage and decomposition. The files labeled ‘Poughkeepsie Polly’ were placed upon the desk. Some unknown victims weren’t always titled Jane or John Doe. This was one of those cases. The second name was chosen by the officer who’d discovered by the body — likely due to sentiment — while the first signified the place in New York City she’d been found. [keeley]Coroner estimated her to be around 3 years or 36 months. She had ash-blonde hair. Blunt head trauma though couldn’t determine what had been used.[/keeley] She didn’t think that the latter detail would be needed if she’d seen gotten glimpses, but it was habit to give the information. Keeley had never found it easy working on child victims especially given having a child of her own. It made things a lot more difficult. Bag was placed down on one of the end tables in the room and then seat taken. A tired groan given as she relaxed into the soft chair. Toboggan pulled off head and dropped into lap before she ran her fingers through messy hair.
  3. Keeley Saunders

    A Link In The Chain

    The banging on glass went unheard except by the people who approached Wesley: Keeley’s assistant who’d been in the room prior and a young man who looked agitated. They’d heard the noise as they came close to the morgue, and knew that what was happening beyond the glass was unpleasant even before they came in view of the scene. "She won’t be able to hear you until she’s out of. . . that. . ." Alana, the Coroner’s Assistant whom Wesley had treated like a secretary once before, spoke quietly from her spot next to him; gaze locked on a trembling, crying Keeley who was mouthing words they could not hear. Keeley’s body jerked again and Alana shook her head with a glance to the nervous man next to her. He was the healer; a meta not a magus who had healed her before. It never got any easier. "This is going to take. . . Oh God abo-" Alana’s gaze had moved back to the glass just in time to watch Keeley’s shirt and chest start to be burned. In the room, Keeley was being burnt; head thrown back and mouth opened in a scream that eventually turned silent as the pain choked off any sound. Back arched as she struggled against invisible restraints, and she watched the man, Josh, do the same. They were burning him with magic. Someone’s hands were an inch from his flesh; skin melting and burning, and the smell foul in the room. He could feel himself being cooked and it was sheer agony. [npc]“Tell us what we want to know, Josh. Who did you tell?”[/npc] Josh knew what they wanted. The problem was that he hadn’t told anyone. It’d all been bravado. An attempt to get proof that his family was alive. It didn’t work. It wasn’t as if he knew anything to tell anyone or he’d have gone to the police. He just wanted his family. Some part of him knew that they were dead already. . . The fire got hotter, he screamed; jerking around and trying to free his arms from the chair they were tied to — to no avail — as suddenly something struck his knee. Keeley cried out, right knee giving out and body drooping on one side. She didn’t fall though, as if held up by a force that couldn’t be seen. She was trying to get a glimpse at the men doing this to Josh, but she couldn’t see what he couldn’t see. And something wasn’t right with their voices. The burns were getting more severe; she could smell burning flesh the way that he could and it was making her sick. Outside the room, the healer ran for the door and Alana ran to stop him. "No, no. . . if you go in there you know what’ll happen!" "If it means she won’t suffer as much it’s worth it.” While they were fighting, Keeley was trying to survive the agony that was happening to just get something more. Something that would help. She tried to listen now; for a sound that could help. Nothing though. The pain was too much. [npc]"Kill him. He’s lying.”[/npc] A voice ordered, this one female and not distorted like the others, but it wasn’t one that Josh knew. Blindfold was removed only to reveal mask covered faces and the full sight of what was happening to his chest. He gagged, struggled harder now. The woman was too far away; lost in the shadows of the warehouse. Josh shook his head, begging now, “I’m not. . . I’m not. . . I told the cops. I did.” The woman gave a harsh laugh then walked out. The sound of the door closing sealing his fate. One of the men’s hands came toward his neck. [keeley]NO![/keeley] The word wasn’t her own, it was what would be Josh’s last words. Keeley ripped herself free of the recall just before the large hands would snap the man’s neck. She crumpled to the floor. Knees and face broken; fingers bleeding not just from the ripped out nails, but from scratching at the chair’s arms they were tied to. . . and her chest a mess of burnt flesh. Lying there, she whimpered in pain. One thought crossing her mind as she fought against the urge to pass out from the pain, Fucking hell, why do I keep doing this?
  4. More posts soon. Sorry for crappy delays.

  5. Keeley Saunders

    Another Skull Another Face

    When working within law enforcement, there tended to be an increasing number of late meals. Lack of sleep came along with it as the many hours one worked meant little opportunity for proper rest. Some were perpetually grumpy as a result, and complained constantly about wanting more time off. Others, such as Keeley, only sought more. Work was a welcome distraction and constant pleasure — as screwed up as it sounded. It gave her something to focus on other than the state of her son or the lack of people in her life. Loneliness was hard to combat when actually alone. She had never really been alone through her life. There’d always been family nearby. Now what remained of her family was far away; communication not happening nearly as often as she wished. Occasionally she tried to convince her brother Cameron to come to New York, but he was firmly set on remaining in Portland. Nothing would sway him. The only connections that kept her sane were Mason, who she didn’t get to see often, and the few work-related relationships she’d developed in her time here. Nevena Rostova was one of those relationships. A fellow living ally to the dead, Keeley found her company enjoyable. She also found her work admirable. In the days before Resonance there were always cold cases. In a post-Resonance world? That hadn’t changed. If anything that number had increased. Entire families had been lost without anyone to claim their remains; half of them without any explanation in terms of what had happened. And then there was the other lost souls: victim of pointless murders. Some part of Keeley had wondered if given the chaotic state of the world such things would diminish, or die out completely, except that’d quickly been proven a foolish hope. If anything the state of the world had made it easier to get away with violent crimes as it was harder to identify victims let alone find them. The databases were still a mess, the world not exactly perfect even almost 9 years later, but at least some of those souls had received justice. Perhaps even some peace as their remains were identified along with the cause of death, and in some cases even returned to their loved ones — some just in the figurative sense and some in the literal. Keeley knew that Nevena was working on another cold case. This one only a couple years old now, but nonetheless just as important. She’d dug up what details could be found on the autopsy. The file was in her hand along with the report from the detective who’d been in charge of the case at the NYPD. Both files were fairly sad; thin with limited information much to Keeley’s annoyance. Plum leather jacket was pulled tighter, and gray toboggan tugged down a little more on her head, as she slid from the taxi. Strap of her black messenger bag slid over neck to rest on opposite shoulder from where the bag rested against her other side. The files were tucked safely inside with the clasp locked, but nonetheless she kept the bag facing her. Finally she made her way inside and to Nevena’s office; a knock given on the door before stepping back to wait. Bare hands wrung together then palms rubbed against the thighs of her jeans as she tried to get some warmth into them. A mental reminder made to remember to buy a new pair of gloves. [ooc note: winged the case stuff some, but if anything needs adjusted feel free to nudge me in a PM and I'll change it.]
  6. Keeley Saunders

    Damnable Bureaucracy

    Doctor Saunders. Hardly anyone called her Doctor Saunders unless she was working. To hear it outside a case, and here of all places, gave her something to focus on in the middle of her panic attack. That’s what she was having; she recognized them from the occasional days she’d had them when Micah first started having issues, and had since calmed enough to stop having them ever since they reached New York and the Order got everything under control with her son. And yet here she stood feeling just as vulnerable as she had before and under the grip of another one. It was only the familiar voice speaking to her that helped her slowly begin to calm down. The arm was blindly accepted as feet instinctively moved along. "A bit late for one of your visits to the Citadel isn't it Doctor Saunders?" A breath was drawn as she felt herself sinking into a comfortable chair. Another as she closed her eyes and fought to gather herself. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at the man talking to her. The connection was instant. [keeley]Inspector Ardal. . .[/keeley] She trailed off, another second longer taken for her mind to process his question before she continued quietly, [keeley]The hospital. . . it’s been quarantined and nobody will tell me anything. And they won’t tell me where Geoff is so I can see if he knows anything.[/keeley] The words were a little rushed at first, but slowed to a reasonable speed and gained some strength the more she spoke. One hand raised to rub the bottom of the palm against her forehead in a massaging motion. The motion was paused as she took notice of the way he leaned on his cane. She knew that the man had an injury; it wasn’t one she’d asked about in the course of their work-related interactions. Yet with her background it was easy enough to pick up that the mean must be hurting with the way he’d shifted his weight to be supported more by the cane. [keeley]Please, sit.[/keeley] Hand lowered to motion to the chair across from where she sat. The lobby was quiet now as security guards and receptionist went back to their duties with her in the hands of someone else. Keeley was still frustrated though some of that energy had dissipated into a slight sense of fatigue that mingled with worry. It left her feeling more agitated than anything else. Hands wrung together in her lap now as she leaned forward, elbows resting on knees, and shook her head. Black hair shifting where it lay loose about her shoulders. [keeley]I saw the news. Nobody knows why it’s locked down, and when I went to the hospital the police wouldn’t let me through or even tell me what might be happening.[/keeley] Keeley gave a half-smile as she sighed and met his gaze. [keeley]I didn’t know where else to go. . .[/keeley] There wasn’t anyone else. She’d thought perhaps that Geoff might be here, or that he might have answers. But it was more than that: if she went home, she’d be alone and sitting there with only her thoughts. A good way to go mad. [ooc note: wasn't sure how to have her address him. I hope Inspector is correct. Don't know how OFL does addressing in terms of rank stuff. If it's not, let me know and I'll change it.]
  7. Thank you, crap immune system, for this cold I did not want -.-;

    1. Aingeal Clarke

      Aingeal Clarke

      Tell that cold to go F itself!

    2. Keeley Saunders

      Keeley Saunders

      I have, but that only served to piss it off lol

  8. BRING ME YOUR THREADAGE?! (Please? *puppy eyes*)


    1. Alec Walker

      Alec Walker

      How about some tired and some poor? Some huddled masses?

  10. Keeley Saunders

    A Link In The Chain

    By the time they returned to the OCME Main Office, Keeley had begun to calm down. The drive was a long enough one that it gave her time to clear her head though not too long. In a world before this one the traffic of NYC would have made it take forever to get back, but not in this new world. It also helped that Wesley seemed to not push her further, but instead chose to respect that she was done talking to him. For now. Of course, the tension was still thick enough to cut with a knife. The vehicle with the body had gotten back before them. Once inside one of the morgue rooms, she shooed out any others in the room along with her assistant with the order to fetch a healing magus then unzipped the body bag. A cursory examination of the state of the body on its metal slab was given before she sighed. [keeley]I’m going to ask you to go outside. To close that big metal door. You can watch through the glass if you want. . . it’ll protect you.[/keeley] She glanced up Wesley now, an intense look in the eyes that met his own, [keeley]No matter what you hear or see do not come inside. Not unless you see me signal you or. . . unless I collapse.[/keeley] She’d collapsed before. Lost consciousness as well. Died even. She was hoping that this body wouldn’t bring on a result that severe though. Enough of an appraisal was given to make her feel confident that would be the case. Once Wesley had left the room, and she heard the heavy metal door close behind him, Keeley took a deep breath and turned back to the body. She didn’t look to see if he’d chosen to stand at the glass window and observe. Honestly, looking at anyone when she was about to do this only made her nerves worse. There was always some anxiety when about to do this especially given the times she’d died or nearly died. Drawing in another breath for fortification, she let her mind relax as she began to hum the tune that seemed to set her off from the first moment her ability had shown itself: . The song had played a lot on the station played at her old job, and it was one of her husband’s favorite songs — they had even danced to it at their wedding — but now was just an unwanted reminder and a song that she could not sing or hum often anymore. Partially she was grateful for that limitation. [keeley]Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream,[/keeley] One beat, two beat, three beat, four beat, [keeley]Make him the cutest that I've ever seen. . .[/keeley] One beat, two beat, three beat, four beat. Eyelids drifted shut, lashes still against cheeks, as she hummed to each of the beats. [keeley]Give him two lips like roses and clover,[/keeley] Another four beats as she felt herself slipping from her surroundings into that of the man who laid dead on the slab in front of her, [keeley]Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over. . .[/keeley] Keeley could see the haziest of images, hear the distant sounds of footsteps, and smell cleaning solution faintly. She was almost fully encompassed by the hold of her ability. [keeley]Sandman, I'm so alone. Don’t have nobody to call my own. . .[/keeley] A breath released, another drawn in before her lips parted for the last part of the chorus, [keeley]Please turn on your magic beam. Mr. Sandman, bring me a dre-[/keeley] An anxious gasp of air drawn sharply into lungs though outwardly she looked calm. As if asleep or in a tranquil trance. At first anyways, until one took notice of her fidgeting hands; fingers of right hand picking at skin and nails of the other in a clear display of nerves. Keeley knew they weren’t her own though. . . they were his. . . Josh walked through a foyer that smelled of bleach and pine and showed signs of newly waxed floors. His sneakers squeaked over them, making him flinch each time, until finally he reached the stairwell. His steps were slow and quiet, but tension riddled his body and he picked at his nails, and the skin around them, nervously as he went up each flight of stairs. There was a bag over his shoulder. . . heavy enough that it was dragging down his shoulder and making it ache. The building held remnants of having once been fancy and designed with top notch materials, but presently showed signs of heavy repairs. And he was climbing up, up, up. . . until stepping into a hall and pushing aside plastic sheets as he went down the long hallway that smelled of odor eliminator. Freshly laid carpets. He stepped into a room, placed down the bag gently, unzipped it, and pressed some buttons then high-tailed it back the way he’d come. . . Keeley’s face contorted, feeling emotions in Josh that didn’t align with someone intent on cruelty. She could see him as he blended into the people on the street outside; the way he looked back and around him repeatedly as if afraid of getting caught though not for any reason that made sense to her with the sensations crawling under her skin. Josh stopped, pulled out a non-descript cellphone and pressed the speed dial. The only number on the phone. The only number to have called it. He gnawed on his lip until it started to bleed as he walked just a little too quickly. Slamming into some man and babbling an apology. [npc]Watch where you’re going, you fucker![/npc] “So-sorry. . .” He stammered out, shoulders drawing inward as his back hunched a bit, and finally the distorted voice came over the other end of the phone, “It’s done. Please, can I. . .” Brows drew together, downward more, as she caught just how off the voice on the other end of the phone sounded. As if the person was using something to change it. Her lips moved as she whispered aloud to the empty morgue the words she heard. [keeley]If you want to see them, come to the docks in an hour. Make sure you’re not followed.[/keeley] And then, suddenly, her words were followed by a scream as the nails on her hands started to bleed. Hands hovered out in a stiff position at her sides, arms bent at the elbow as if against the arms of a chair, as one of the nails on her right hand was slowly being ripped at by some unseen force. And then another cry as body jerked and her left cheekbone caved in. . .
  11. Keeley Saunders

    Damnable Bureaucracy

    January 25-26, 2019 11 p.m. [npc]“This area is under quarantine.”[/npc] That was what they’d told her when she’d gone to the hospital half an hour ago. The news had cut through some movie that was a couple years old, and worse than most B movies of the time before Resonance, with an Emergency Alert. A glaring change from the Werewolf romance movie playing on the morgue television set. When the broadcast interrupted the program to announce that New York Hospital was under quarantine; displaying the hospital sealed with metal doors over windows and doorways, and flashing lights outside as officials set up all the restrictions that came with a lockdown. Hand dropped the recording device she’d been holding, the object clattering loudly onto the metal tray to send instruments scattering to the floor. Keeley hadn’t even hesitated to call-in the other coroner working with her to take over the autopsy. Within minutes she was out the door, only stopping at home long enough to shower and change — people didn’t often talk to you when you smelled like the dead — then headed straight for the hospital. Only to be turned away. They wouldn’t tell her anything either. She flashed her credentials, tried explaining that her son was in there, and even attempted to push through the cops blocking her path as if she could get into the hospital with the doors blocked. Nothing worked. [keeley]My son is in there![/keeley] [npc]Ma’am, a lot of people’s loved ones are in there. We can’t let them in either. Now, we need you to move behind the barricade or we’ll have to arrest you. Please don’t make me have to do that. . .[/npc] The officer was polite, but Keeley didn’t care how polite the young man was. . . she wanted answers. Finally she headed for one place she knew she’d be likely to get some: the OFL headquarters. ------ 11:30 p.m. A half-hour later, Keeley stepped inside The Citadel. Looking as distraught as she felt, she stood frozen. She’d only been in here a few times, and the interior was as intimidating as the exterior to her. Getting clearance from security to go inside was easy since they knew her face and why she came here. When she explained that she was here in hopes of talking with Geoff, it’d been a simple process to get her squared away. Of course, not everything could go easy. A few minutes later she was gripping the back of her long black hair, making it even more disheveled from her fretting, as the receptionist explained that Geoff wasn’t here. [keeley]What do you mean he’s not here? Where is he?[/keeley] [npc]We aren’t at liberty to say, ma’am.[/npc] Her other hand slammed down hard enough on the counter top that it made the skin on her palm tingle sharply. [keeley]What do you mean you’re not at liberty to say? This is an emergency. Have you heard the news? I need to speak to Geoff now.[/keeley] Keeley figured that if anyone would know what was going on at the hospital it’d be the healing magus who’d taken on caring for her son. Geoff was the only one she’d come to fully trust for the care of Micah. OFL or not the elder man was ideal in his way of managing her son’s care and being open with her about matters. She’d never ran into an issue where he lied to her — a mother would know. And now, he was not here and they wouldn’t tell her where he was while her son was trapped inside a hospital under a mysterious quarantine that she knew not the first thing about. . . [npc]Ma’am w-[/npc] [keeley]Don’t ma’am me! Get Geoff down here or. . . If he’s at home just call him there. He'll come.[/keeley] The control on her emotions slipped; voice raising to a screech that quieted the receptionist while the other looked toward waiting security near the doors. Keeley didn’t miss that look either. The tears were gathering at the corner of her eyes and stinging as they did, and her hands had moved now to tug at the hem of her wrinkled shirt then rub both palms anxiously over the thighs of her blue jeans. As one of the security officers stepped forward, she turned to raise a shaking hand palm out in a beseeching manner. [keeley]Look, I’m not going to cause any trouble. I just. . . I just need to talk to Geoff. I need to know what is going on at the hospital. Please. . .[/keeley] She’d done her best to protect Micah. Everything she possibly could. Murdering her husband, getting in bed with criminals, putting herself between the OFL and ARMA to see that he got the best care possible. . . and here she was in a situation where she couldn’t do anything. Knowing nothing, and not being able to get to him, meant that it was out of her hands. And she didn’t like that one bit. For the first time in her life, Keeley felt herself start to hyperventilate. [npc]Ms. Saunders, why don’t you have a seat. . .[/npc] The security guard looked in concern to the receptionist who was at a loss. He stepped forward again to offer Keeley a hand only to have her shake her head. In-between panicked breaths, she managed to get out, [keeley]Get someone for me to talk to. . . now.[/keeley] Nobody would coddle her when she could not be with her son.
  12. Keeley Saunders

    A Link In The Chain

    Frustration was eating at her. She was beginning to see that this magus was a possible hazard. Not just to herself, but to others. The fact that he was still in the field and not being supervised was even more worrisome. She’d heard about the dangers of rogue magus before — everyone had — and while Wesley Evans was part of ARMA he was acting just like one of them. Running off, doing what he wanted, talking about serving vigilante justice that bordered on the edge of turning him into an outright murderer instead. Keeley was helping him cause it was her job, and partly cause she felt bad for him, but she was slowly starting to regret it. Clearly he needed the kind of help that she wasn’t qualified to give him. "I don't have to be. Better than this, I mean. I always wondered what that meant when they tried to justify the fear of killing... in movies and comic books and the like. Like you get a golden star placed on your soul at the end of the road. Like someone's going to reward you for allowing murder to go unchecked. If every soldier on a battlefield held the same kind of cowardice you're preaching we'd all be pledging allegiance to her majesty the queen right now. Or a fuhrer." She did her best to keep quiet as he went on spouting his logic to attempt to justify his reasons for being a cowboy. Tried to just continue onward toward his ARMA issue vehicle up ahead. Going off on him would achieve nothing and she didn’t want to create a scene. As they came near the back of the vehicle, he went too far though. "If there truly are things worth dying for then... then that means there are things worth killing for. Killing in self-defense is justifiable. So is killing to protect people. And I can't think of a more permanent way to keep a bomber from bombing other than this. Sorry not sorry." Keeley came to a halt, rounding on him quickly and slamming a finger pointedly into his chest. [keeley]You are not a soldier. You’re nothing more than a glorified cop. Your job is to uphold the law not run around breaking it, and there's absolutely no justification. If there was then any cop whoever fired a weapon unprovoked cause ‘they would’ve done blah blah eventually’ is justified by your poor, bullshit reasoning.[/keeley] She drove her finger against his chest again for good measure as she went on, [keeley]You want to prevent a bombing? You do it the right way. You want to grieve? Then find a better method than some idiotic vendetta that’s going to end up with your badge taken away and you being tossed in a cell in New Alcatraz. Cause if you do this? You’re no better than the people who justify bombings the same way you justified killing. And if that’s the case then you deserve to be in prison.[/keeley] She didn’t raise her voice, but her words were hard enough to make it clear that she was pissed. Taking a breath, she lowered her hand back to her side and glared at him. [keeley]I will help you. That’s my job, and I don’t have any evidence you’ve broken the law — yet. But I swear, Wesley Evans, if you continue to act this way I will go to your boss. I will tell him every damn thing. So I suggest you get your head on straight, and start acting like a man of the law instead of a cowboy.[/keeley] She rounded the passenger side, yanking open the door and slipping into the seat. The door slamming shut to make her point. Whatever else he said, Keeley resolved that she wouldn’t say another word to him until they reached the morgue. She might have to do her job and help him, but she didn’t have to talk to him while he went on like some madman. All that she’d heard about ARMA was that they were supposed to be better than the organization they’d split from in the first place. That the people working for them were supposed to be better. So far she was learning that was as much bullshit as Wesley had just spouted.
  13. Keeley Saunders

    A Late Breakfast

    Familiar faces from the past were something that couldn't always be avoided. Sometimes it actually was someone from the past, and other times it wasn't anyone known at all. There were times when Keeley could've swore that she'd seen someone from her youth. Then it would turn out that wasn't them at all. Part of it was the mind playing tricks, but mostly it was a deep yearning for a familiar face. She didn't know that many people in New York. Everyone she knew had been left behind — or had died. What remained of her family lived far away except for Micah. And her son spent a majority of his time in a coma which continued to break her heart day after day. She occasionally spoke to Stefan when he wasn't off on Bakkhos business or wrote to her family — though mail was even slower these days — but otherwise the only people she knew here were new connections to her life. Nobody that had known her in the days before she'd come to New York. It was a hard pill to swallow most days. Her pen was flying along the lined paper until she felt the sensation of staring. The pen paused then fell flat against the paper with a slight thunk. Her first experience in learning to acknowledge when being watched was in her youth; the bullies were prone to looking at her with their intent clear in their eyes. The other experiences came post-Resonance. However, the one that made her truly skilled in recognizing that sensation was a bittersweet memory: her son. Being a parent meant a lot of being stared at on a daily basis. Micah had always been an observant child. He'd watched her as she moved around the house to clean while he was in his play pen or bouncy chair or swing or walker. Those big eyes taking in every little move she made with the most adorable expressions playing across his face. Swallowing at the memory of his smiles and giggles when she'd catch him looking, and talk to him, Keeley forced herself to leave the past behind for now. It hurt too much. Instead she turned in her booth to see a man watching her. [keeley]Can I help you?[/keeley] There was a little bit of a bite to her words as she thought it rude to stare, but it was still kind as she considered that he might need something from her table like sugar.
  14. Keeley Saunders

    A Link In The Chain

    [keeley]So do I. That way you could interrogate him at HQ.[/keeley] Her words were purposeful. Pointedly assuming that he meant they'd gotten to the guy first in order to lawfully interrogate him, and not in the way that Wesley probably meant. Being reckless wouldn't serve any purpose. Of course, he didn't see it that way — yet. Keeley was dead set on making him to in the end though. Even if it meant betraying him by talking to one of his superiors. "Fine mom. I'll keep my mouth shut about my plans for our bomber." Staring at him in clear frustration, she hissed, [keeley]Yes, just keep quiet. Don't re-think the wisdom. Have you lost your mind?[/keeley] Irritated, she reached to pull the envelope from his hand. Opening it carefully to slide the contents upward, and out, enough for her to peek at them. None of the faces were familiar to her, but that wasn't a surprise. She'd not expected them to be. What she needed them for though was for what would come later. Internally she debated the wisdom of even doing this for the man. Sympathy, and understanding, was hard not to have for him. She understood what it was to want to protect the only member of your family. In Resonance plenty had suffered the loss of loved ones. She'd nearly lost her own child more than once now. She'd even killed to protect him. . . Of course, that had purely been self-defense. What Wesley was fantasizing over was outright murder. It would make him no better than the criminals. A point she'd made often when reading comics to her son, or watching comic book movies with him, when he'd ask the obvious question 'Why didn't the superhero just kill the bad guy?' and she'd point out that the superhero knew he'd be as bad as the villain. It was a point her son got well — most children seemed to easily understand deeper matters when they were explained and discussed — though he wondered if Wesley would. She wouldn't be able to get through to him alone. That she knew for sure. Right now though the choice at hand would provide him with information. At least, what information she chose to give him. Either way the case was a crime that needed investigating to the best of her abilities and her ability was literally the best. After staring down at the photographs in consideration, Keeley finally came to a choice. She'd see what was seen then determine where to go from there. With a heavy sigh, she sealed the envelope and thrust it back into Wesley's hands. [keeley]You'll want to come to the morgue with me. I. . . have a way to find out more information.[/keeley] She didn't state what that way was outright. While Wesley was a magus, and she knew that, he didn't have a clue that she was an empowered human.
  15. Keeley Saunders

    Not A Creature Was Stirring

    December 24th, 2018 Christmas Eve; 7:45 p.m. New York Hospital It was almost time for visiting hours to be over. Most would be leaving; visiting family coming to see loved ones that were stuck spending the holidays in the hospital. Some would come back tomorrow while others wouldn't be able to, and then there were those poor souls who didn't have anyone to visit them. That was the saddest thing. Keeley had insisted that she'd be staying the night. That she'd wake up here on Christmas morning with her son. The hospital staff hadn't fought her on it. They'd given up on trying to tell her that staying the night was not in her best interest. She didn't care if it was a strain on her mental well-being or not — she was going to stay. She'd taken days off work just to be here. Had refused invitations from Derrick to do something else. Of course, Derrick had only offered cause plans had changed. Micah was supposed to be awake tonight and tomorrow. Her 8-year-old son should've been excitedly bouncing in his bed; opening early Christmas gifts and waiting for her to read him stories. They always read a book, or two or three, on Christmas Eve. Not this year though. . . Plans changed when Micah's binding slipped two days too early. Alarming enough was that when it slipped unexpectedly that meant he wasn't gradually awoke which always made for a mess. The other alarming factor was that the OFL magus who regularly did the binding had been baffled about why it'd come undone suddenly. His best guess had been that 'something had interfered' though there wasn't any explanation yet as to what. They would, of course, investigate the matter. Keeley wasn't feeling reassured on the matter. What it meant in the end though was that Micah wasn't awake. They'd had to re-do his binding and induce another coma before she'd even been able to get to the hospital. And they'd moved his room further away from other patients. . . after he'd damaged some equipment, scared some patients, and injured at least two nurses. Luckily nobody had been killed. The idea that Micah had been awake for that mess depressed Keeley greatly. It meant that he'd been terrified and alone, and that he'd remember all of it. There weren't anymore tears. She'd cried a lot over this mess the last two days. And honestly? She'd cried so many tears over the last six years that she just didn't have any left at this moment. Bloodshot eyes stared at the silent, wan figure of her son in his bed; hooked up to tubes and IVs and wires completely shut away from the world. A sharp pain drew her gaze down to her hands as she noted the grooves in her hands from where she'd pressed neatly trimmed nails into her skin and broken it. After being sure that it wasn't significant, and that there wasn't any blood, she pushed up from her chair and made for the hall. Sneakers carried her along mindlessly. . . time passing, elevator taken, until she heard the sound of crying. Stopping, she realized that she was in the maternity ward. The place wasn't as active as it would've been prior to Resonance, but there were still births happening in the world. The cycle of life and death continued ever onward. She paused in front of the glass, dark ponytail swaying at the back of her neck, as she pulled her sweater tighter around herself and looked in at the mix of peaceful and squalling tiny faces in their little beds. When she first looked at Micah in his little bed? She had thought everything in her life would turn out differently. She could've never seen this all coming. [keeley]Husband dead, kid in a coma. . . and the both of us fucked up.[/keeley] A bitter laugh passed her lips as Keeley stood there now wondering what future these precious children had to look forward to in this fucked up world.


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