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[Open] Death Row
Barrister

327 Posts
11 Threads

Pronouns: He/Him
Age: 26
Occupation: Junior Barrister
Plotter: [Here]
Height: 5'6"
Registered: Jul 2019

#1
Traffic. Zechariah Meijer was a criminal litigation solicitor, but there was no crime more indefensible than God damned traffic.

And Oscar Wilde’s sentencing.

Alright. Present crime.

He avoided the docks as a rule. Nothing but trouble there. Criminal trouble, redheaded trouble, youthful trouble, stupid trouble, beautiful trouble … trouble of all sorts.

Who was he kidding? It was all about Simon. It always was. Th courts had snatched away another riveting gay man in his prime for even less than Simon had done. Of course the grief would pull him back here as readily as the moon pulled the sea. A lake could be dammed, but an ocean could be sidestepped at best.

Truly, though. His client across the water was far too punctual.

Zechariah checked his timepiece as he stepped out a carriage, heading straight to the docks with purpose. If he did not look at the fishermen, they would remain irrelevant to his life. Elbows jostled (his included) on their way to the landing, looking for a boat with room. That nice boat with seats? Eurgh, the cord had just been drawn closed across it. What about that little boat-... no, it capsized as a large group of tourists tried to cram themselves in. 

Egads. The smell of fish grew stronger and stronger the further down the pier Zechariah had to venture. He pinched his nose behind a handkerchief.
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Posting Freak

974 Posts
10 Threads

Age: 51
Occupation: Fisherman
Height: 5'8''
Registered: Jul 2019

#2
The swing bridge had been out of operation since last night, damaged by some idiot steamer skipper who couldn't do the math. The harbour master had managed to summon a tugboat to tow the steamer away before the tide went out and it would get stuck in the mud, but by high tide the bridge was still being repaired

A major inconvenience to most of the town, but manna to the fishermen, who had abandoned their lines and nets for the more profitable trade of ferrying moneyed tourists and desperate business men across the harbour.

Ben stood waiting by a small coble, looking around for anyone who looked anxious or desperate. Those were the ones that paid most, he had soon learned. His eyes suddenly grew dark as they landed on a face he hadn't seen in a some time, but that still occasionally haunted him from a crowd.
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Barrister

327 Posts
11 Threads

Pronouns: He/Him
Age: 26
Occupation: Junior Barrister
Plotter: [Here]
Height: 5'6"
Registered: Jul 2019

#3
Was there any smell so foul, so off-putting, so treacherous as that slimy fish stench that took the maid weeks to stop reeking of? No. No, there wasn’t. (Aside from the courtroom, but the courtroom was not an offense against God!)

Zechariah retched, then tried to cover it up with a clear of his throat. There were no more elbows this far down the dock. He saw a boat from his peripheral, and his stomach gave another perilous churn. Lowering the handkerchief slowly, grudgingly, he found his coin purse without looking up.

"How much," he deadpanned.
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Posting Freak

974 Posts
10 Threads

Age: 51
Occupation: Fisherman
Height: 5'8''
Registered: Jul 2019

#4
Ben's face darkened, both in grimness and in colour, as the man approached. Ben had forgotten his name, but his face... Daydreams of breaking that nose in multiple places had kept that face fresh in his memory. He really didn't even care to look at the people 'below' him, did he? Unless or course there was some young man for him to exploit. Very well then. "A shilling, ser..." he answered in a tone as neutral as he could muster.
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Barrister

327 Posts
11 Threads

Pronouns: He/Him
Age: 26
Occupation: Junior Barrister
Plotter: [Here]
Height: 5'6"
Registered: Jul 2019

#5
Compared to back then, his suit was plain. Just another man doing business in the crowd. Nothing to see there. No unfortunate tales of widespread sodomy to land him behind bars. No. There were only a handful of men, after all.

And the father of one of them was staring him dead in the eyes.

This was the man he had hoped would be close as family one day, once upon a time. He had had dinner with him. He had seen the gruesome work he made of Simon, too. Had a prayer or two about Benjamin getting eaten by piranhas.

That part had faded in the courtroom. Faded … but not died.

There was a pause. A cautious look. Then, he fished out the shilling and held it out to him.

“Thank you, sir.”

Sir. Adonai. It slipped out before he could think about it. This man was no man to respect, as desperately as a part of him had.
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Posting Freak

974 Posts
10 Threads

Age: 51
Occupation: Fisherman
Height: 5'8''
Registered: Jul 2019

#6
The man had seen him, recognized him now, Ben was sure. He had intended to push off from the dock before the man recognized him and give him a good scare, maybe do some real harm. He hadn't reasoned so far ahead yet, though he had imagined it. But the fact that the young man had seen him and was still bold enough to get into the boat took him by surprise.

He pocketed the money, ignoring the light tremble of his hand. The he turned round and took the rope that tied the coble to the dock. "After you," he said in a low, deep voice, very consciously omitting the 'sir'. He pulled the rope so as to keep the boat close to shore and allow the gentleman to get in without too much difficulty. The noise of the harbour and screaming seagulls and the salty smell of seawater and fish seemed to have disappeared. All Ben was aware of was the old rope in his hands and the man who had buggered his son.
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Barrister

327 Posts
11 Threads

Pronouns: He/Him
Age: 26
Occupation: Junior Barrister
Plotter: [Here]
Height: 5'6"
Registered: Jul 2019

#7
He did not belong here. He could see it in Benjamin’s eye, and he knew it by heart. Zechariah was, after all, a stranger in a strange land. But once upon a time, he had believed.

He had believed he belonged in Simon’s arms. In a nice little place in London for two. In a boat, even, next to a man who was inexperienced enough to think the differences abroad were more noteworthy than the similarities. In a world where someone had chosen him, and him alone.

But no. The flat had been airless, stifling, crowded by the ghost of Simon. The travel could not get him far enough away, and was not worth the stink of saltwater. The choice Simon had made was a dangerous sleight of hand, leaving Zechariah to bear the metaphorical horror of Abel and rage of Judith alone.

Before him was the tree that had borne that fruit.

Zechariah turned his attention to more important things: getting into this damned boat. He handed his suitcase off to Benjamin, straightening his tailored coat and bracing a hand against the nearby post. One gleaming, utterly immaculate shoe toed the line of the dock, then tested the edge of the boat with a frown. His coat wafted, scent of his cologne strong enough to smell even over the fish.

Simon had smelled of it often.
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Posting Freak

974 Posts
10 Threads

Age: 51
Occupation: Fisherman
Height: 5'8''
Registered: Jul 2019

#8
When the scent hit him, Ben felt a sudden surge of rage. He gave a sharp tug at the rope, just as the man had one foot in the boat.
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