{don't think i don't know sympathy} mcconnells.

[Lulu]

so let's go deadbolt your shed door
cram your paper money snug, closer than before

What people don't understand is I don't do it for myself. Not once have I walked into a bar and gotten a guy to gamble a ton on a game of pool with me, a skinny blond guy who looked like he couldn't even pick up the stick but really had a dead-on eye for the game, hoping to walk away with money to spend on a couple of six packs or something. Never have I bluffed in a game of texas hold 'em knowing that once I won the pot I'd take all the cash to buy myself a hot prostitute for a real good time. I like to think that my morals are in the right place, even when I snatch a wallet from a lady's purse right under her nose. Cause I'm doing it to feed my family, see. My family's gotta have food, and medicine, and clothes on their backs, and I can't let 'em down when they're depending on me.

I didn't know where Hornet went when I went to the pub last night; I'd told her to scram, get out of here, cause a bar was no place for a pretty young girl like her - they'd eat her alive, all those drunk bastards - and I wasn't in any way going to put my little sister in more danger than necessary. She was already slinkin' the streets with me every afternoon, looking for something worthy of our five-finger discount, risking arrest by the Peacekeepers - or worse, because in the districts, stealing was punishable by death. But she was fast, fast on her feet, sneaky and swift; pretty sure that girl could snatch a diamond the size of an egg right off some unlucky aristocrat's neck without the old snoot noticing a damn thing. I needed her help, without a doubt, but no way in hell was she going into those bars with me. Not a chance.

I have to say, it was a pretty good night; I left the place with a hundred bucks in my fist, walking briskly in case any of those bozos held a grudge and decided to follow me and put me in my place. That happened sometimes; I either had to get the hell away fast or take a beating. But they never got the money back - I made sure of that. There was a little market nearby, and it was open till one in the morning; I knew all the kids would be asleep by now, their bellies rumbling desperately because all they'd eaten before bed was a meager cabbage soup old Batty had cooked up, but I could still surprise them with a feast for dinner the next day. They'd love that, and maybe little Birdie's eyes wouldn't look so damn hollow for once. That was what killed me most.

The clerk looked at me like I was up to no good as I walked into his shop - admittedly it was pretty late, he probably got more crazy hoodlums than honest folks at this time of night - but I just ignored him as I browsed through the aisles, trying to decide what would please the kids most. I could get some stuff for a stew, but that was all we ate lately; it was high time for a bit of variety. So I picked up some chicken drumsticks - one for everyone, the kids would get a kick out of eating them - and a handful of potatoes to mash up, along with some lettuce and vegetables to make a salad, which would please Kit because lately she'd been big on eating healthy even though that's near impossible to do; us McConnells, we're nothing but scavengers. Lastly I splurged a bit and bought a pie, a real, true apple pie that would please any sweet tooth. Why not have a bit of a treat for once? All in all, I spent a bit over sixty bucks; a lot for just one meal, but there was plenty left to go into our emergency fund.

I came back from roamin' the streets earlier than usual the next day, so that I could help Batty cook up a dinner to be proud of. Hornet came in and tried to help as well, but she wasn't much of a cook, so it was mostly just us. I swear, Batty lost a little more of her marbles with every day that passed; in the middle of tossing the salad, the old woman picked up a cherry tomato and started calling it her 'crown jewel'. "Lookamee, Skid boy, I'm rich! I'm rich!" A moment later she seemed to snap out of it, and ordered me to put that chicken in for longer, boy, or we'll all get salmonella! I did as I was told, though I was pretty sure the chicken was done just fine; it was better not to argue with Batty, cause you just weren't going to get anywhere.

Once we were finished, I set the kitchen table - it was way too small for seven people, so we all sat elbow to elbow, all cramped - and Batty called the kids in. One by one they filed in from their rooms and sat down, clearly delighted by the spread of real food, real food that was in front of them. "Figured we could eat like kings tonight, eh guys?" I grinned, while Batty shrieked "Wash your hands!" at everyone. Once we'd all done as she asked - "Scrub 'em good, don't want no germs in this food!" - we sat down to eat, ravenously tearing into our chicken. After all, us McConnells didn't eat like this often; we were lucky to go to bed with food at all, let alone a bounty.

chandeliers are falling in graveyard rows
and your eyes are shifting dials like am radios


ooc- I know we're still waiting for Wheels and Sparky bios, but I figured we could start off a family thread anyway^^

[/color]
[/size][/center] [/justify]

[{danny}]

kit mcconnell.

my eyes are bifocal
my hands are sec-jointed
i live in the future
in my pre-war apartment

Family is a word - or a thing - that can not be touched by anyone apart of that family. Family means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. To some people, family means love. To other people, family means faith and forgiveness. To my family, it means surviving. We are technically living alone; Batty going crazy with every day; and it's up to us to support ourselves. It's actually easy on my part: I sit home and take care of the little one, if I get bored I knit, and I occasionally try to make some food with what we have. Other times, it's difficult. Other times, our whole family is breaking down, knowing that we're low on money and food. Then, it's up to Hornet and Skid. I know I can't rely on them my whole life, but I have to sometimes. I, Kit McConnell, am not always strong. Sometimes, I need a shoulder to lean on.
Most of the time, that shoulder belonged to Skid or Hornet.
Skid raised money the safest way; hustling. I'm not exactly sure what else he does - if anything - or how he does it, since I'm still a bit too young to understand. But I know what Hornet does. Stealing, which is way more dangerous than doing what Skid does, but it can be more efficient, and less harmful in a physical way. Skid left the house, and I was tired. I somehow ended up in my bed and fell asleep to the thoughts of my old family.

--

The day goes by fast even though I do nothing. It seems that time slows down when you're bored or having fun. When you're doing nothing, it just goes even, and maybe that's why it seems faster. Bird and I talked, laughed, and I knitted a bit.

"Figured we could eat like kings tonight, eh guys?" Skid joked - I think - as we set off to wash our hands. I couldn't resist the urge to comment; "And queens. Kings and queens." Afterall, the girls are just as much part of the family as the boys (and it is a three-to-two ratio, anyways), and I am right.
When I notice the salad, I know that Skid had me in mind. I had been trying to eat healthier, and he knows that I couldn't just eat chicken and apple pie and call myself a healthy eater, so he added fruits and vegetables. The chicken still looked tasty, though. It looked expensive for a McConnell dinner. The apple pie smelled pure, it made my mouth - almost - water. I couldn't wait to dig in, and I actually didn't wait.
See, at the dinner table, all of my manners were forgotten. When eating, I could care less about how messy I ate. Of course I didn't use my fingers, I still used utensils, but my elbows were still on the table, I talked with my mouth full, I ate very fast. Although I can act very lady-like, I life to eat.
"You've really out-done yourself, Skid."

and i count all my blessing
i have friends in high places
and i'm upgraded daily
all my wires without traces

[Steffenee]

Bird had spent most of her day out walking around like she did everyday. She came back home for dinner only to find cabbage soup and her eldest siblings ducking out soon after dinner to go do whatever they were going to do tonight. She didn't like going out after dark so after dinner she just went into her bedroom and laid on her bed thinking. She seemed to do that a lot. As it got later Kit came in to go to bed without making much noise. She said goodnight to her as they went to bed. It was only the four youngest in the house to her knowledge as the older two were still out getting them money to be able to survive. She fell asleep thinking about how if they got caught they could be killed and then they would be nothing. She almost hoped that if they did get caught that it would be Nom because he wouldn't hurt them knowing without them she wouldn't still be here. Late at night she thought she heard them enter and saw Hornet come in, but it simply could have been because she was tired that she thought it was so late.

In the morning she was one of the last to wake up which meant that she was one of the last ones to leave the house. While she liked where she lived she liked to be able to go out waking. She liked being able to see the one person that knew everything on some occasions. She made to leave pretty early still though so that she wasn't caught by Kit wanting to come with and keep an eye on her. While sometimes she was grateful for her sister wanting to protect her, other times she didn't want her there in case she ran into Nom. She still hadn't told her family about her peacekeeper friend, or what he knew. She also hadn't told them about how she had met this peacekeeper friend four years ago, or how she had told him everything only a few days before. She was so afraid of telling them and then being yelled at for telling about their life and putting everything in jeopardy.

That night for dinner, she came home a little early and she could smell the food just walking in the door. She walked over to the kitchen to see what smelled so good; she had never known anything this good to be in the McConnell house. She saw Skid, Hornet and Batty in the kitchen cooking something, but she couldn't tell what it was. She went into their room to see if Kit knew what it was, but she decided against it. When dinner was ready, she was the last one to come out of the bedrooms and wash her hands. She sat down at dinner with a smile-the first real one she had had in a long time. She got some of everything listening to some of the conversation that was happening around her between her siblings. At the moment she just wanted to to eat the food and not talk. She wanted to savor it because she had no idea how long it would be before she would have something this good again.

While they talked she thought. She thought about what they were saying and what she had done to put this in danger. She had told someone outside her family what she knew about everyone and what they did to make money. She was a horrible person, or at least that is how she felt. it was going to drive her insane not telling them anything, but she wasn't going to. She smiled and tried to laugh at their conversations but it was painfully obvious that her mind was elsewhere, and her only hope was that no one pointed it out.

[/justify][/size][/color]

[Deleted]

The rooms have a hint of asbestos and maybe
Just a dash of formaldehyde
And the habit of decomposing right before your very eyes
Along with the people inside
What a wonderful charicature of intimacy

There’s only a few things in this world I’m good for, I’ve known that for a pretty good-sized chunk of my seventeen years. Stealing and drawing and a few more things that I can’t talk about in polite (or any) company are the handful of skills that whatever power way up in the sky that don’t seem to really care about us anymore saw fit to give me, and it’s pretty clear that whatever purpose I was born for- f’you buy into all that malarkey ‘bout everyone being born for something - it sure as hell didn’t include nothin’ that goes on in the kitchen. But just because I’m no good at making food taste like something other than charred echoes of what it should be don’t mean that I ain’t gonna at least try to help when Skid says that we’ll be having a right feast for dinner. But no more’n ten minutes into the sad effort of trying to cobble together mashed potatoes, I got nothin’ but a lumpy mess of something that might maybe be good drowned in a boatload of butter and a burned hand that’s the source of a whole mess of curses comin’ outta my mouth, making Batty shoot me the evil eye over her bowl of salad. “You ain’t too old for me to wash your mouth out, girl. Now git, let me and Skid take care of the food.”

Growling, I chuck the stupid potato-masher-thing into the bowl with my pathetic attempt at a bona-fide side dish and stalk out of the kitchen, back the narrow hallway and into the room I share with Birdie and Kit, slamming the door behind me. Everyone around knows I got a temper to match my name but lately I been downright nasty, a side-effect of pulling in maybe three hours of sleep a night between helpin’ Skid out on the streets all day and then sneaking out to head back to the pavement for a different purpose once Kit and Bird are sleeping. Times’ve been getting lean again, leaving me and my oldest “brother” faced down with hollow eyes and rumbling stomachs that do nothin’ but make us even more determined to keep everyone alive. For Skid, that means more trips to more bars with more fancy card tricks up his sleeves. For me, well… Ripred knows I ain’t got the brains to do nothin’ like that. Good thing I got other things to offer.

Last night was bad. I can still feel that bone-deep soreness in my whole body every time I move; ‘cause sometimes they pay extra when you don’t give ‘em no rules to follow ‘bout what hurts you and what doesn’t. There are times when I wonder if it’s worth it, but the old sock full of crisp bills stashed in my pillowcase always reminds me that yes, it is. Last night was bad on its own, but what made it worse was that I damn near ran into Skid on the way home, saw him walkin’ up the front steps of the tenement comin’ back late from the bar. Had to duck into the alley to stay out of sight, my breathing and the couple upstairs screamin’ at each other again the only sound in the shadows. With Skid getting home just then there was no way I could have just quietly snuck in the front door like usual, obvious as all hell in a too-short skirt and messy hair and my only pair of high-heeled shoes. People say I got no shame, but the truth is I only have it with people that matter. There are some things that even Skid can’t know, that I’m too damn scared of the judgment in his eyes to ever tell him, and that’s why even though I hurt all over and barely had the strength to make myself do it I climbed the rickety old fire escape up the side of the building and shimmied through the bedroom window, throwin’ myself under the covers and faking sleep two seconds before Skid opened the door to check on us. Usually close calls give me a thrill, but this one just made my stomach churn.

My hand reaches into the worn cotton of my pillowcase, fingers brushing over the sock full of cash in search of something – Reassurance? Security? Hell if I know what I’m lookin’ for anymore – just as Batty calls us all in for dinner, harpin’ for all the building to hear ‘bout how we all need to scrub our hands. The spread on the table looks like something out of a story book about perfect families who never have to be hungry: a heaping pile of chicken drumsticks, a salad that ain’t even the least bit wilted – Skid even managed to turn my failure at mashed potatoes into somethin’ that looks like a person could eat it. We all wash up quick and dig in, almost not believing that all of this is for us. I feel Skid’s smile more than see it, pre-occupied with sinking my teeth into the leg of chicken in front of me, mumbling approval at the explosion of flavor that comes with real food. “Why’d you go off and get such a spread, Skid? What’s the occasion?”

It comes out muffled ‘round a mouthful of food (I ain’t never had any manners, much less the table-kind) but the meaning’s clear enough in the look I give him, asking-without-asking why he’d go and buy this kinda delicacy we can’t afford when there ain’t nothin’ calling for it. Maybe for him a full-on meal means a few extra rounds of pool and some fancy card-handling, but for me it comes at a greater price, and maybe that’s why I can’t help but resenting the plate full of goodness in front of me.

Although I can’t really tell if I resent myself even more.

[/size]