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story: Hamish Macbeth
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Hamish Macbeth

Land Without Magic

My Content
Mar 7 2018, 10:48 AM
Lachlan was, of course, feeling pretty miserable about his general state of being. He hated his life and just about everyone in it, particularly his new case worker and her seemingly unbreakable desire to see him happy. Didn’t she know that he just wanted to be left alone? Surely the case workers who had come before her must have filled her in on the kind of person he was. How much he didn’t care about having anything to do with anyone. There were so many homeless who wanted to pick up their lives and move on. Why bother with the one guy who didn’t?

He frowned to himself, rolling down the street in his wheelchair. Though it seemed to garner pity from the people around him, he didn’t often stop to consider how best he could use his paralyzed state to profit off the common folk. They were always more willing to give spare change to a cripple. But he hated that. He hated being crippled in the first place. He didn’t want their pity. He didn’t want their change. He just kept rolling, ignoring their looks and comments as he rolled himself towards an old, broken down area of town.

He couldn’t remember a time before being paralyzed. Memories of ever being able to walk were blurry at best. They said it was from the shock of his injury. It messed with his memory. He didn’t believe it. Something was wrong alright, but it wasn’t his back that had caused it. Of course, that was just the ramblings of a crazy homeless person. No one listened to those. Still, he had to wonder why it had always felt like he couldn’t walk. What was it like? Would he be that much better off if he could? Would it really make any difference at all?

It was dark and getting late. The people on the streets were starting to thin, which he considered a good thing. Soon it would just be those in his situation- the homeless. His friends. Not that he could really call them that.

He wanted nothing to do with most of them, either.

He rolled himself into an old abandoned lot, long forgotten by society. It had a homeless colony built in it these days, for the dregs of the earth to gather and bemoan their fates together. While Lachlan did have a room at the shelter to return to, he often visited this place, staying out all night just to watch the stars and sit by one of the dumpster fires for warmth and quiet. No one bothered him when he was here. No one demanded he try and better himself.

Most of the time, anyway.

Mar 1 2018, 06:36 PM
[dohtml]<div class="n-sea">

<h1>Lachlan McLean</h1>

<div class="n-p-main">
<h3>Hamish Macbeth</h3>
<h2>Cursed Personality:</h2>
Having such a rough life, Lachlan is admittedly very reserved and unwilling to get to know others. He keeps largely to himself and doesn't have much motivation to get out and be friendly, especially while confined to a wheelchair. He can be rude to people who try to befriend him, despite his friendly highland accent and handsome features that would otherwise be perfect for making all kinds of friends.
<h2>Cursed Life:</h2>
Lachlan is a war veteran who returned from active duty after taking a very serious wound to his back, rendering him completely paralyzed from the waist down. Unable to be a soldier, and thus with no further meaning to his life, Lachlan fell on hard times, moving to Hyperion Heights to live a solitary life away from everything he formerly loved and had connection to. He has no job and never applied for disability, living in a homeless shelter and spending most of his time sulking alone in his shabby, broken down room.

Feb 1 2018, 04:43 PM
This was not what he was supposed to be doing.

Hamish rolled himself towards the station, maneuvering this wheelchair around people with relative ease. Since he’d been in the chair a little while now, he had a pretty good handle of being able to move it around effectively. Not something he found himself particularly happy about, of course. Being so good at it only showed that he had been in it far too long! He wanted to be able to walk more than a few feet without pain and fatigue getting the better of him. They said it would take a while for his legs to get back to normal, and boy they weren’t kidding! He was starting to get in a mood about it. He knew it, too. He was crabby and Priscilla was forced to deal with him while he was in such a state, feeling all kinds of sorry for himself.

In an endeavor to give Priscilla a bit of a vacation from his horrible mood, and to be a nosy bugger, Hamish decided to spend some time off on his own around town. It had taken some pleading, but he had managed to work out a little time to himself where Priscilla wouldn’t have to worry about him and she could relax or do something that she wanted to do off on her own.

Really, though, Hamish wasn’t interested in getting air or lightening his mood, he wanted to know what was happening at the station. For how relaxed and laid back he liked to be, he still loved being a cop and not being able to do his job was really getting to him. He just... Wanted to see how things were going. If they were holding together or not.

He really had to know.

So he rolled up to the less than handy-capable station, getting a bit of help from the locals to get himself inside the building. Thankfully, people we friendly and more than willing to help him inside since the city hadn’t thought to install a wheelchair ramp there.

Once inside, he rolled himself down the hall, heading to the little set of offices and the main holding cell that comprised the small station. He was hoping to catch at least one of the other cops there, but he also wasn’t holding his breath.

Judy Hopps
Feb 1 2018, 04:31 PM
Hamish was pretty sure he had the worst luck. Literally, there was no one in town who had worse luck than him! All he had wanted to do was have a peek around the mines to see if there was anyone lurking around. Like a crazed murderer who had tried to murder him a couple of times in the past. It had probably not been his best idea, all things considered.

He, after all, was still recovering from a gunshot wound that had left him in a wheelchair for the foreseeable future, though thankfully not permanently, and he wasn’t even on active duty with the police force at the moment. He hadn’t told anyone he would be out by the mines, and now his phone wasn’t getting any kind of service inside the cave.

He really was an idiot, wasn’t he? Of course he had fallen into trouble- of COURSE he had. Not only had the not been able to find the criminal, or any signs he had ever been in the mines to begin with, but his wheelchair wheel had gotten stuck between some of the rocks on the less-than-even cavern floor. Though he tried to pull himself free, he couldn’t manage it. Thankfully, he wasn’t that far from the opening of the cave, but it may well have been twenty miles away with how unable he was to get to the exit. He couldn’t walk all that way with the pain in his stomach and the damage to his spine. He hadn’t regained enough of his mobility yet.

Maybe he should have been less enthusiastic to get back to work when he was still crippled.

After tugging on the wheel a couple more times, Hamish again failed to manage to dislodge himself from the rocks. “Iss there anyone out there?!” He called, his highlander accent more sibilant with his agitation.

He had to hope someone might HAPPEN to be walking along near the mines to hear his pathetic cries for help within. Otherwise, well, it was going to be a long, painful walk home for one Hamish Macbeth.

Angel On Fire
Jan 20 2018, 01:03 PM
Hamish was restless.

He had been recovering from his injury, but things had been going a lot more slowly than he would have liked. They had told him, of course, that he had been lucky to be able to walk at all after his gunshot wound and he probably should have been happy that he was able to get back on his feet at all. That it would take months and months of work before he could properly walk again. He knew all that, and at the time he had accepted it with smiles and understanding. But time had a way of really making it clear just how long things were going to last, and how horrible they were going to be the longer the time went on.

He just wanted to get back to work at the police station- he missed his job, even if it was more work than what he had been used to in Lochdubh. Was it so wrong? There was still a killer on the loose, and he had wanted to kill police on top of the other victims he had slaughtered! It wasn’t safe. He didn’t even know if the other coppers were looking into anything! They hardly seemed to know what they were doing.

No, he needed to check on things. Wheelchair or not, recovering or not, he needed to.

So he had wheeled himself out of his temporary home to go and check on things at the station. Maybe he could put together a case file of everything he had put together so far so someone, anyone, could work on the case while he was recovering. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to get out of the apartment. One of the two, certainly. He rolled along the street, the people walking by doing their best to walk around him, since they knew it was difficult for a wheelchair to maneuver. At least the people in town were friendly. Many had already met him, and greeted him much like they had in his old hometown. It was nice. Too bad that whole ‘murderer still on the loose’ thing kind of ruined it. He couldn’t help looking at each person, wondering if they were the murderer.

Any smiling face could end up being that of a killer’s.

As he neared the police station, he let out a tired sigh, stopping for a moment. Even though he was just sitting the whole time, he still found himself exhausted quite easily. With the fatigue and stress eating at him, he found himself with a craving he had not had in a long time- he longed for a cigarette. It had been years since he had quit, and yet. Maybe some old habits died hard.

Getting back to work, he rolled himself up to the station, though immediately realized a mild problem- there were steps and no wheelchair access. What kind of town was this?!

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