Post by lacie maeve harkins on Nov 19, 2012 21:36:13 GMT -5
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[style=width:350px; font-family: josefin sans; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align:center; color: #000; line-height: 80%; text-transform: uppercase; padding-bottom: 5px;]LACIE HARKINS
CRIMINAL. TWENTY-NINE. MOB DOCTOR. ARROGANT. LOUD. AGGRESSIVE. EMPATHETIC. SUPERSTITIOUS.
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,386,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width:130px; height: 200px; background-image: url(http://i1059.photobucket.com/albums/t429/neonvelocity/eee362e71f6f2144fb7d60e8abbca9e9_zpse8687f6c.jpg);][/style] | [style=height: 180px; overflow: auto; font-size: 9px;] Dr. Lacie Harkins does not appreciate having injured people tracking dirt and leaving bloodstains all over her nice, pristine apartment. She also does not appreciate them stealing her cigarettes or scaring her cat. Unfortunately, as the one person who treats criminals' injuries without saying anything to anyone, it's something that she has to deal with. Lacie Maeve Harkins was born to an Irish woman named Maeve Connelly and an American police officer James Harkins when the couple was thirty and thirty-six, respectively. She was considered a "gift from God", as Maeve thought that she would never get pregnant. The couple was happy that they'd had a baby girl. They had just moved back to America, and so not many were there to help them through their baby's first few months. She was a quiet baby, much unlike her later personality, but smiled early, which carried all through her life. Lacie grew up to the loud sounds of Staten Island, a bit violent and harsh at times, but she was loved. Her parents were rich enough that they lived comfortably. Her father took her to the shooting range and she was taught to throw a punch and load and unload a gun. Lacie was a friendly and precocious kid who was generally loved, all from when she could talk until puberty. Her parents sent her to the nicer schools on Staten Island. Her father was a tad traditional and didn't think that women should have particularly good educations. Her mother was outwardly neutral on that matter, but it was safe to assume that she did want her daughter to have a good education. Lacie was generally well-liked, and she knew people from most every clique. She herself wasn't exactly classified because she floated, but that was generally accepted. She was smart, showing a creative, passionate nature. She was quite intelligent, as well. She did well in her classes. Alas, puberty was the tipping point. Lacie discovered this entire new world where there was loud rock'n'roll music and everything wasn't about getting heaven and the Church. She told her horrified parents as much, who immediately decided to enroll her in a private school. Unfortunately, the damage was done. She talked about wanting to become a doctor (to the horror of her father), and started listening to bands like U2, the Clash, some of the earlier works of the bands that would be known as Evanescence and Green Day. It all culminated when she was seventeen and it became known to her parents that she was a little less than chaste. A confrontation where she loudly declared that she was going to be a trauma surgeon whether they liked it or not, and a lot of namecalling and crying ensued (no, she was not letting her father burn her leather jacket, and yes, that was a classmate you saw me making out with, thank you very much!). She never really got out of the teenage rebellion stage, to the disgusted admiration of many. Lacie left for college, getting a full ride, and went straight to living on campus. She loved college. She had all the freedom to make all the decisions she wanted to. Tattoos were inked on, an eclectic wardrobe was bought, and she finally let herself grow as a person. This involved drinking large amounts, doing things that were a little less legal than anyone would have wanted, listening to too loud music that would have her deaf by age forty, and having as much sex as was humanly possible. She learned that this couldn't continue in her internship, and so confined her "wild days" to the night and the weekend. Outwardly, to her colleagues, she cleaned up, but in all reality she lived the same hedonistic lifestyle she ever did. This all culminated in a pregnancy-STI combination when she was twenty-six, right after she'd gotten her official degree. Shaken to her very core, she had an abortion and went on antibiotics, and finally did truly clean up her act. For three years she's been sober. She has a number of tattoos. The first was a cross on her inner right wrist as a sort of final flipping off to her parents. The next was her eyebrows. This is the only tattoo that she regrets (and even then, it's a sort of half-hearted "oh well" type feeling). She shaved them and had a design of sweeps and dashes tattooed on in place. It gets her second glances, which was the point, but in a professional sense, it gave her trouble. Lacie's third tattoo was a floral Celtic tribal design in a thick band around her left ring finger, and the index and middle fingers had two more such "rings" in Celtic knots. Her final tattoo, what she considers the "masterpiece", is a large one on her left shoulder. It's a black and white cacophany of vines, skulls and flowers that covers her shoulder down to her elbow and down to her shoulderblade on the other side with lyrics woven in. This is her most recent tattoo, being finished when she was twenty seven. It was her last tattoo, and she decided to keep it like that. She moved to Boston to get away from her old life, both from New York and from her bad decisions in college, but it followed her anyways. Her father the policeman had died of what was diagnosed as a drug overdose, but Lacie knew that her father had not had a drug addiction. He was the one always ranting about how terrible they were, and he was the cleanest man she'd known. That was about when the people started finding her. She found a man stumbling his way to her apartment doorstep, muttering about "Jimmy" and how his daughter'd help him. Lacie was quick to realize that there was a reason why he was talking about her dead father. The man had been a dirty cop. That caused her great stress, and it didn't help that she was also harboring criminals who had the abilities to make her disappear if she didn't cooperate. Lacie whispered a prayer and got through patching them up, getting a sizeable chunk of money in the mail, not to mention plenty of intel. Injured people rambled about things they shouldn't ramble about, and while she was notable for keeping her mouth shut, a little insurance wouldn't kill anyone. Hopefully. That being said, she's very, very wary of the police and of the mobs in Boston. Her affiliation is aligned closer to the criminals, but she's terrified of being caught in a sticky situation. Also, despite her heritage, she has no affiliation with any particular part of the mobs, just whoever comes to see her. |
