Aoife (pronounced Ee-fah) has dark brown hair, cut medium-long out of a carefree sense of practicality and worn loose when on her own time. While working, she ties it up into a simple knot, so as not to interfere with whatever she is doing. Her cheekbones are close to her face, with her mouth often set in a line of indifference, though she also has a habit of thinning her lips and jutting her jaw when someone does something particularly stupid or unappealing. Her eyes are brown with just a hint of green, and she bears very pale skin, matching her brothers. She has a few freckles across her cheeks and nose, and a few old scars on her hands from her young years, now warped and stretched as she has grown. She has a medium-small build, and is hardly the strongest girl around, but it's not a problem to her. She often has noticeable dark circles under her eyes - a result of time spent caring for those who cannot care for themselves, her siblings included.
Clothing & Style
She does not dress to impress, and is generally seen in no-nonsense clothing when working; a plain white button-up blouse, long black skirt, and simple flat-heeled shoes, all accented with a ribbon tie for presentability's sake. In a more casual setting she'll wear whatever is practical - usually a sweater and skirt over standard female underclothing; a long corseted chemise, with garters and stockings, in keeping with what is respectable for the times. She also has a navy blue peacoat that she will wear over all this in colder weather, though it is more suited to frigid Ireland than the ever-changing temperature of Montana. In Missoula she bought a woolen shawl, and this has served her well for the springtime thus far.
Weapons & Equipment
Aoife has no personal weapons to speak of. Presently staying in the Wigfall Boarding House, she owns little but a trunk containing personal effects; clothing, reading materials (Tennyson's The Princess, a Medley at present), A notebook & pencil, a watch, some eighty dollars in notes until she gets on her feet, and various bits and pieces for tending to scrapes and bruises, which were, until recently, used primarily on her brothers.
Traits & Characteristics
(+) Literarily Proficient - Aoife is a fan of the greats. Poetry and prose hold places within her psyche, and she cites them often.
(+) Intelligent- Aoife is clever, more so than she really has any right to be. With a canny sense borne from the streets of Milford, an interest in literature, and a career path in medicine, chances are she knows what she's talking about on any given topic.
(+) Sanguine - Aoife is comfortable with blood, a product of both her childhood and adult life.
(-/+) Donegal Lass - Aoife speaks with a very noticeable Irish accent, highlighting her as a recent immigrant from the moment she opens her mouth.
(-/+) Professional - Aoife takes her work very seriously, for better or worse.
(-) Contemptful- Aoife does not often think highly of others. To earn her respect one must prove oneself beyond a doubt to be resourceful, brave, clever, and perhaps even kind.
(-) Blunt Personality - Aoife speaks her mind, and is unafraid to do so. This can put people off, but for all the unapproachability it gives her, it also lends an otherwise unattainable air of authority.
(-) Insecure - For all her demure self-confidence, Aofie harbors a degree of discreet insecurity towards her decisions with regard to family and career.
Aoife is a very no-nonsense sort of lady. She'll take very little rubbish before telling someone exactly how she feels, and a working-class Irish family has lent her the colourful vocabulary to ensure the point is not forgotten. Almost as soon as she could make decisions of her own she has endeavored to put distance between herself and the rough-and-tumble life of her siblings and father. In a way, it was they who brought her into the profession of nursing, by way of needing someone on hand to set their broken noses and wash their bruised lips, but as time wore on, this sense of duty has become very tiresome, and Aoife has not looked back since striking out on her own.
She is well aware that the role she holds in 1800s society is, at the very least, unconventional for a woman, and acts accordingly - knowing that she must work twice as hard as her male counterparts to avoid scrutiny and judgement in the medical profession. Ironically, she does not have the greatest bedside manner, thanks to her curt mannerisms and blunt nature, rather excelling at the more practical side of medicine; with steady hands and an encyclopedic knowledge. Despite this, she holds a great deal of stock in the nearly legendary Florence Nightingale, and looks up to her as a sort of role model by way of advancing medicine. Evidently she is dedicated to her work and will not let any silly business interrupt it. As such, she is good at what she does, and has the respect of her more progressive peers.
Though she may seem composed to all the world, Aoife harbors a fatal level of insecurity regarding herself and her decisions. She often inwardly belittles herself for failing to perform as well as she could, and every mistake she makes will devastate her. This is of course kept as suppressed as possible, so as to display no softness and maintain a perceived air of self-confidence to the outside observer.
A comprehensive knowledge of human anatomy is not her only facet, however. She is an avid reader, not just of textbooks and doctrine - but of great literature. She has an appreciation for the work of philosophers and poets, from whom she will recite every now and again. She also enjoys writing, and keeps a thorough journal - adorned with illustrations and prose alike. For the time being, she is indifferent towards the prospect of romance, but this is not to say she is entirely numb to the concept. A partner may show themselves with time, but Aoife would be no easy wife, owing to both her disposition and brisk nature.
(Former) Milford Doctor's Office (1868-73)
Nurse, Doctor's Assistant
Kalispell Doctor's Office (1876- Present)
Nurse, Doctor's Assistant
Aoife can set bones, bandage wounds, drain abcesses, and administer morphine with the best of them. In all but name, she is a physician.
Even the strongheaded Aoife could not escape the traditional woman's lot, though admittedly, the skill learned in housekeeping during her teenage years has come in handy in the doctor's office - for an unclean practice is as good as treating patents on the roadside!
Aliases / Nicknames
Wigfall Boarding House, Kalispell (1876)
Itinerant, crossing the United States (1875-76)
Itinerant, crossing the Atlantic Ocean (1874)
Place of Birth
Milford, Ireland (1854-73)
Kith & Kin
Patrick Leane - Father, Labourer in Missoula
Finn Leane - Brother, Labourer in Missoula
Liam Leane - Brother, Labourer in Missoula
Daniel 'Danny' Leane - Brother, Labourer in Missoula
Maeve Leane - Mother, Homekeeper in Missoula
Jonah Danforth - Colleague, Kalispell doctor
Childhood (1853-65, age 0-12)
Aoife was born the fourth child, a girl to three boys. Her childhood was, understandably, entirely respective of that fact. With her parents ever busy trying to keep their heads above water, she was often the subject of pranks, the object of ridicule, and generally the holder of the short stick. Matters were not helped by the seemingly angleic persona of the eldest; Finn, always offering to help with chopping the wood, always first to volunteer for pumping water, and, of course, always first to kick Aoife under the table. Nevertheless, she learned to endure, as most do.
Milford, the town of her birth, was by no means a flourishing settlement, situated on Ireland's northern coast. The summers were cold, the winters were freezing, and life was all around tough. Her family was very much working-class, earning their bread with her Father's wage as a labourer. Maeve, her mother, was an altogether self-contained wife, and kept to herself for the most part. The first lessons Aofie learned from her were those in the lot of a woman; how to clean, cook, and wash. Though entirely willing to assist in this regard, the raucous fighting of her boisterous brothers seemed far more spritely, and indeed more interesting, at least for a time. Nevertheless, Aoife resolved that if she were going to be excluded, she would need to find her own way of occupying her time. With little else for a young girl to do, she joined the lessons hosted by the local church, and quickly became engrossed in the sermons. Far more interesting than the mundanity of woking-class life, she listened intently to the lessons of arithmetic, history, and reading, not to mention the healthy dose of injected catholicisim. Her peers were similar to her brothers in disposition, all jeering sneers and teasing, but she came to develop a sharp tounge, and quick wit. For a time, this was the life she lived; schoolwork, housework, and home life, but the brothers Leane did not remain boys for long. By the time they had matured into teenagers, and their brawls turned outward, it became clear that Aoife may well have lucked out in her exclusion. The streets of Milford were a hostile place, and roaming gangs of teenagers met, then fought, over the slightest provocation. All too often her brothers would come home with black eyes and bruised chests from their latest alley punch-up. Patrick, the Leane patriarch, was no better, lending himself to the bottle and then getting into his own conflicts.
Aoife quickly learned from her mother the art of home medicine; the cleaning of cuts, the icing of bruises. It became as much a part of her life as homekeeping had been, and by the time Aoife was twelve, she had treated, or assisted in the treatment of her fair share of wounds.
Teenage Years (1865-73, age 12-20)
One might have thought that once the Leane brothers put down their fists and picked up a job, things would improve, but it was quite the contrary. Joining Patrick at his labouring work, the boys only accompanied him on his dives to the town pub, blowing wages on whiskey and ending the nights with their noses broken in the ditch. Their care became a full-time job, and Aoife was often sleep-deprived from both her studies and duty to her brothers. So too did money become tight, with how much of it was going towards alcohol, culminating in Patrick being laid off from his job.
Deciding that she would need to take matters into her own hands, Aoife ventured for work at the local doctor's office, as an assistant, and was accepted, if only because the Milford physician was an old man, and incapable of keeping his surgery in order. Here, Aoife came to know her calling, with the expereince she had gleaned from treating her brothers translating well to the day-to-day cases of a small-town practice. She kept up with her studies, reading about Florence Nightingale and latching on to her example as a woman in medicine. Her study too came in handy with the work, enabling her to quickly understand the instructions given to her, and by the time Aoife was a young lady, she was capable of treating most patients all on her own. She continued pursuing her personal passions, avidly reading and keeping a journal, all the while she watched the sitution at home deteriorate. She came to consider the men in her family with a mixture of contempt and pity, even as they fulfilled their cycles and drained the family funds.
Journey to America (1873-75, age 20-22)
1873, and Patrick Leane, the unemployed drunkard, decided it was time for a change. The Irish had been emigrating to The New World for some two hundred years now, and he had decided to follow in their footsteps, in the hope of a less miserable life. Needless to say, Aoife was not impressed by his sudden change of heart, pointing out that it was quite clearly a play to regain what little dignity he could. Still, her mother and siblings seemed taken with the idea, and so Aoife reluctantly agreed to come along, if only for their sake.
Most of their savings went to passage and convoy out to the frontier, and a dreary passage it was indeed. At sea for some seven weeks, Aoife spent most of the time belowdecks, keeping to herself while the Leane men suffered the ill-effects of forced sobriety. When they finally arrived on the shores of New England, they were changed indeed, though possibly for the better. They joined a convoy ferrying immigrants out into the territories, and for a time, Aoife was to know nothing but an itinerant life, the thunder of horseshoes and creaking of wagon wheels an ever-present anthem. A few times they had scares, when native riders approaced the convoy, but the hired outriders always managed to frighten them off before the situation became unpleasant. It was late in 1875 when they arrived in Missoula, and while the Leane men were content to resume work as labourers in the more lucrative setting, Aoife had come to decide that it was time she distanced herself from her family. Their sudden sober streak had reassured her they would manage for some time yet, not to mention that she was rather sick of taking care of their careless mistakes.
On to Kalispell (1876, age 22)
And so, she continued on north, to the town of Kalispell, where she seeks work and a livelihood on the American frontier, alone for the first time since she was born.
Post-Arrival in Kalispell (1876, age 22)
Thousands of Miles From Home: In which Aoife departed from her caravan and made headway towards the settlement of Kalispell, only to find herself interrupting the hunt of one Robert Cullen, a fellow Gael who was living out in the wilds, prospecting. At his offer, she decided to expedite her trip by taking his mule, Abraham into town, rather than walking the rest of the way.
A Room With a View, and You: In which Aoife arrived at the Wigfall boarding house, in search of a place to stay. The enigmatic family arrived in force just as she was about to find somewhere else, and after some deliberation it was decided that she would indeed room with them for a time. After some discussion about her future place of work, Aoife proceeded to clean herself up after her journey, during which time Hector attempted to get an eyeful of her changing. Unfortunately for him, his plan did not go as expected.
In Pursuit of Gainful Employ: In which Aoife sought work with Jonah Danforth at the Kalispell Doctor's Office. He was more than accepting of her application, though her skills would see an early trial, when the Elkins children were rushed in after ingesting nightshade. With keen eye and steady hand, they managed to save the children, and Aoife subsequently met Mrs. Towberman; the practice's domestic hand. After a lunch and a few 'thank yous', the children and their mother went on their way, with the young nurse having proved herself well enough.
The Ways of the Lonely Ones: In which Arabella Mudd would arrive at their practice, seeking a cure for an ailment for which there was no medicine. Aoife, who was busy with more practical matters, left the examination to Doctor Danforth, who was requested specifically.
Voices are Calling From Far Away: In which the Mudd girl returned, to be treated by none other than the resident undergarment salesman; Mr. Pettigrew. For her part, Aoife felt very out-of-her-depth (it being a depth that she had previously scoffed at), and merely watched on with fascination as Arabella was entranced and subsequently cured(?) of her homosexuality.
Miscellaneous Reference Images;
Aoife will probably be a fairly 'social' character, most suited to drama and such, even if she would likely disagree with me.
"I'm sure that your partiality will be appreciated by all sides. I know that my cousin and the rest of his family value honesty and I see that you, Miss Leane have it in abundance. You will be a great asset to this venture."
"Oh! Well, that's tellin' me!"
Having affirmed her position, Aoife once more turned her attention from the conversation, for its part moving on to yet more combative, veiled dialogue between the frontrunners. It seemed, unwittingly enough, that she'd involved herself with the boxing match quite thoroughly, and now slated herself to provide medical expertise to not just Robert and his camp, but this Charlie fellow and his.
And to that end, she could have had something to say about the chance of infection on open wounds, what with the woody indoor environment and close crowd, or perhaps the fact that the ring posts looked like they'd give splinters if you stared at them too hard. Given how rough Robert's life usually was though, she imagined that he'd probably scoff at that sort of thing, along with the rest of the room.
Instead, she merely moved to sit upon the stage. Mr. Crabbe had mentioned it would be for seating anyway, and she had little interest in the mindgames that he and Mr. Simons would no doubt proceed to play upon each other.
"Ah, he'll be a pushover! The bigger they are, the harder they fall." Announced Hector dismissively, which did absolutely nothing to settle Aoife's qualms about the whole thing. In fact, they had now been told that this Charlie was, in fact; 'big', implicitly more so than Robert.
She had no opportunity to voice her opinion, however, for the creaking of the barn door to their rear heralded the entry of yet another party in this debacle.
He was fairly handsome, with a touch of the debonair and confidence that spoke to his success. This was a man, just like Mr. Crabbe, who made his fortune off the backs of others, though judging by the ease with which he carried himself, there was some great modicum of self-assurance in his swindling. He tipped his hat to her (a hat? indoors? really?) and she replied with a quick "Sir" out of respect. She trusted him no more than she trusted Lorenzo, but got the feeling that he could out-talk any one of them, and demanded to be recognized as such.
The two frontmen seemed to size each other up, an ironic mirroring of the more physical confrontation that both of them facilitated, and though these swindlers would assuredly never come to blows on their own terms, there would undoubtedly be a duel of the more verbal sort.
"Kids, this is Charlie Wentworth's cousin and, no doubt by now, chief trainer, Ben Simons. So careful what you say. I think I can let you know, Ben, that this is your Charlie's opponent, as of ten minutes ago: Bob Cullen."
Jemima quite suddenly shouted something so loudly that Aoife never even registered it, sheer volume doing more for her than the content of her words ever could. All Aoife could manage was to merely wince along with the others. After a few months in the Wigfall boarding house, such sporadic and unintelligible outbursts seemed mundane.
"Hector here's Bob...er, Bobby's second, and this here pretty young lady is our personal medical advisor, Miss Nurse Leane."
Now that was something she could react to. Personal medical advisor? To a backstreet brawl which would undoubtedly end in splintered bones and wounded pride? Even if the matter had been raised beforehand, she'd still have had some very firm words to say about it. How would it look, not just for her own reputation, but that of Jonah, and the doctor's office as a whole, to be associated with all of this?
"I am here as an observer, nothing more, Mr. Crabbe." she strategically imparted, matching her eyes with both those of Lorenzo and Mr. Simons in turn. "Should I have any information to impart pertaining to the medical situation at hand, it will be for the benefit of those affected, rather than the sake of any particular camp."
"Oh, I've fought before with nothing more the crowd bein' the ropes of the ring ye might say. I remember once when I punched me opposite number how he fell back against the crowd and some big mug shoved him hard right back toward me. Right inta me fist he did. I won that fight by knockout it must be said."
Aoife grimaced. Quite literally thousands of years ago, slaves fought to the death for the sake of their master's entertainment, and here they were, in a so-called 'enlightened age,' arranging very similar bloodsports. She wasn't so naïve as to declare violence nonessential to the modern world, but for the sake of profiteering and amusement it all seemed quite... savage.
Nevertheless, Mr. Crabbe seemed very taken with Robert's tale of barbarity, and Aoife's attention began to wander as the conversation devolved into the specifics of seating arrangements and fight timing. The dirt beneath their feet seemed solid now, but come fight night it would probably become a quagmire of gore and sludgy sediment. The nurse found herself wondering just how well the ring posts would hold up in softer earth, and by extension; what it would mean for the fighters, to be slugging away at each other with no boundaries between them and the sweaty hordes of bloodthirsty onlookers. If Robert's story and Crabbe's enthusiasm were anything to go by, the verdict on 'crowd participation' would be very lax indeed.
The Wigfall pair made their way over, and for once it seemed as though Aoife was getting more of a goggle-eyed look from Jemima than Hector. She returned the expression in kind with a thinning of the lips that could have been interpreted as a greeting, then settled back into her stony repose.
"So, you're the feller who's gonna flatten Charlie Wentworth!"
"Who is this Charlie Wentworth, anyway?" Aoife cut in. "Scholar...? Tailor...? Farmer...?"
As they wandered into the barn and Aoife's eyes rapidly adjusted to the slightly dim environment, who should she see standing to attention? Not one, but both Wigfall children, Lord forbid that Aoife spend even a second away from them. Almost like a bad joke it was, so much so that she probably would have returned to the practice right then and there if she hadn't insisted on her presence against Robert.
The ring itself presently looked more like a patch of dirt with some wooden stakes scattered haphazardly around it than a real puglist's arena, and knowing Hector and Jemima, that trend would probably continue for some time yet.
"What d'ya think?" Mr. Crabbe proudly asked.
Aoife said nothing. She was still a little miffed that Robert had agreed to this at all, but of course, as she had reasoned back at the doctor's; it would be far from her to change his mind.
"Wait! Yer wantin' a fighter? Someone to box? I have done me a bit of the fisticuffs in me past. Won some money at it too."
"Is that right?" Mr. Crabbe cut in, moving to block Robert's line of sight.
To this Aoife audibly harrumphed, but said no more. There was an overbearing sense of déjà-vu to this situation, why she couldn't have even begun to count the number of times she'd tried to talk one of her hard-headed brothers out of a local spat. Of course, they'd never listened, just as she knew Robert wouldn't either. Good grief were the Irish a stubborn lot, even if, admittedly, that included herself.
"$100 Prize or a percentage of the door: your choice. Feller you'd be up against, Charlie Wentworth, he's a shade under your height, stockier I'll admit; but he's got too much experience with the bottle and none in the ring."
Which sounded so much like a con, Aoife could hardly believe that Mr. Crabbe actually expected it to work. 'Oh your opponent only ever drinks and doesn't know anything about fighting' sure, until you got in the ring and learned he was three times the size of you with arms the breadth of tree trunks.
"Say, why don't you come along to the barn where we're puttin' up the fight? I'll show you around. You can come too, Miss, if you're not too busy doing your job and living your life."
"I think I shall." Aoife retorted, exercising great effort to control the haughtiness in her tone. "If it's to be half the event you describe, I'm sure I couldn't miss it."
"... say Miss, would you be willing to come along, too, and translate for your fellow countryman here: I mean, I could be as big a crook as the feller who tricked him in the first place, it'd be good if you could look over the papers we'll need to sign."
Aoife quickly adopted her signature frown, considering the offer. While Robert and his cohorts may well have plenty of time on their hands (or so she presumed), she was working a day job, and the matter of her absence would be for Jonah to decide. She couldn't simply run off, even if it was in restitution of a debt.
"I'll have to see." she eventually decided, strategically abstaining from a definitive answer for the time being.
"I'd try and hunt Orr up now but I gotta go out and try and find myself a pugilist of all things!" Crabbe suddenly said, preoccupied by a little pocketwatch in his hand.
"Yeah, we got big fight lined up. Plenty big bets but only one boxer, it too one sided right now!"
"Yeah, at this rate I'll have to get someone to hold ma glasses and climb into the ring m'self."
Something in Aoife's mind clicked; the firing of synapses as the matter of prize fighting was raised. She turned her eyes to Robert, and suddenly remembered - He's fought for money before, and been cheated while doing it. Worse still, if the situation was any hint, Robert was probably quite hard-up...
Quickly she shot him a look, a subtle flaring of the eyes and thinning of the lips that cautioned him to remember what had happened last time.
"We won't be stayin' long, lass. I just have me a favor to ask of ye? Remember when we talked about you someday maybe reading something for me? Well, that someday is today... that is if ye got the time?"
Aoife nodded. "I can do that, and who are your friends here...?"
"Lorenzo Crabbe, Miss, and this is my associate, Mr. Fa. He's Chinese, by the way, so don't take fright." Interjected the finely-dressed man, and Aoife looked over both of them with a critical eye. Crabbe had the immediate appearance of a conman, though admittedly; most well-to-do Americans did, so far as she was concerned. The Chinaman on the other hand, was almost endearing in his stature, standing lower than Aoife by a good inch or two, and yet Mr. Fa carried himself as a figure of authority, atypical for what she had seen of his race in the Americas. Under the bowing and the oriental dress, she got the sense that he was important to Crabbe, and by extension; understood the fact, in some way or another.
"I have here the very document to which Mr. Cullen alludes, to whit: One bill of transference by which our mutual friend Mr. Cullen here was most foully, horribly, and frankly, Miss, easily, tricked out of his placer holdings. Please, Miss, er, Evie was it, would you be so kind as to read through this document copy, duly notarised by an official notary of the county, and confirm to him that this is, indeed, the import of the document he so innocently, but stupidly, let's face it, put his Cross to."
Aoife accepted the offered paper and gave it a once-over, frowning as she scrolled through the official-looking document. Admittedly, she wasn't familiar with the notaries of Flathead county, and the signature could have been a fake, for all she knew, but the text rang true, so far as it's literal meaning was concerned.
She handed the paper back to Mr. Crabbe, and directed a nod of affirmation at Robert. "That's what it says."
The last month had been a tumultuous one for Aoife, what with settling in at the practice and cautiously navigating the unpredictable behavior of the outlandish Wigfalls, and truth be told; she had been able to spare little time for thoughts of Robert Cullen. She herself felt an entirely different lady to that which she'd been on the road from Missoula - it was amazing what a bath, meal, and fine clothes could do for you - and her little escort into town upon dear Abraham seemed a world away.
Late in May, too, she'd begun her little compendium of fungi, and it had grown into more of a passion project than one of the bleak practicalé it might originally have been, meaning that it still lay with wet ink in the corner of her room at the boarding house, about two-thirds complete.
Regardless, the compendium was the last thing on her mind when the answered the door on that rainy June day. With few immediate patients around, it had been a time of a more mundane endeavor; calling in on those bed-bound of Kalispell's residents. She had been puzzling over the rasping in old Mr. Gingham's chest (he hadn't shown signs of consumption or bronchitis), when the knock had come, and so was entirely caught off-guard to see young Mr. Cullen standing in the hall of the practice, flanked by a bespectacled fellow in fine dress, and a Chinaman, of all things.
"Robert." she greeted, a flicker of recognition passing over her face as she was drawn from her thoughts. In a moment, she was all business again, acting the part of the nurse with all her usual ardor. "Come in, all of you, it's raining."
She gestured the three men into one of the front sitting rooms, ironically the very one in which Mrs. Elkins and her children had sat a few weeks prior.
“Nurse, if you could show me out?” The undergarment salesman asked, and Aoife rose to perform the duty. Arabella cut in, however, and the nurse was left standing rather awkwardly.
There was a 'thank-you' and a reticent 'you're welcome' to be endured before she could finally see about showing Mr. Pettigrew the door, which he inevitably ended up doing of his own accord, leading her to feel very embarrassed indeed.
"This way, was it, nurse?” He nodded to Jonah and was gone.
And when the Mudd girl launched into her subsequent tirade, why, what Aoife wouldn't have given to follow in the footsteps of that portly fellow. She remained in her awkward standing position by the door, thin-lipped and with folded arms while both the Doctor and herself were regaled with seemingly every single thought that rattled around the overzealous girl's exceedingly thick skull.
Jonah attempted to interdict, mirroring Aoife's intentions, but his implications fell on deaf ears as the barrage of words continued.
"Miss Mudd." she cut in on a line about eating someone's pudding. "When you're ready."
Though of course, in Aoife's contentious tone, the implication was that Miss Mudd was ready.
“Oh, Miss, I’m sorry I said what I said before I … why, I don’t even know you! I don’t know why I said that. I’m real sorry.”
"It's... alright." Aoife said slowly. She wasn't upset, merely a slight embarrassed. She'd certainly not expected a declaration of solely physical affection from Arabella, of the two guests they entertained this day.
As if to annunciate Aoife's thoughts, Mr. Pettigrew cut in with; “Oh, do pay no mind to that, nurse Leane’s feelings are hardly our prime consideration.”
He launched into an explanation of mesmerism's finer mechanics, but Aoife sat a little too dumbstruck at it's actual function to really take any of the nuance in. Hypnotism! In real life! It was like a Charles Dickens story, except with significantly less ghosts.
Sagas of the WIld West is a roleplaying game set in a fictionalized version of the town of Kalispell in Montana territory. Our stories begin in 1875 and are set against the backdrop of actual historical events.Sagas was inspired by the classic television and movie westerns. Our focus is on writing, storytelling and character development.
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