Post by steph8 on Jan 9, 2012 19:28:32 GMT -5
kahlan cianna sewlyn
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: none;,true][cs=2][atrb=width,300] hey there. the name's kahlan cianna sewlyn! i go by k-dawg, k, kc, mama bear too if you were wondering. also i'll have you know that i am twenty four & loving it. oh. you've heard that I'm heterosexual? & that I'm from dublin, ireland? well the rumors are true for once. well I gotta get going, singing/waitressing/and dancing are calling. see ya'! history I didn’t know much about my parents. My mom was pretty nice, from what I can remember. She was always trying to tell me to stay in the kitchen and to stop trying to go out with Connor or Lennox because they did “boy stuff” and I was supposed to do “girl stuff”. Either way, it was normally for me to constantly be with them just because, well, They were my brothers. I didn’t want the fact I had a vagina stand in the way of that. I got to go to the best schools, got to wear the best clothes, but I guess you could say it didn’t entirely phase me. I think I grew up too fast just because my mother seemed…lonely? She had hired help around the place but she would still drag me by my ear into the kitchen and teach me old recipes, tell me to keep up with the traditions before they died out. Maybe she saw that more so than I ever did: the death of true Irish traditions, morals, and values. And despite my father, who I didn’t see much, telling me to always listen to my mother, it was just…I don’t know. To me he never had a right to say anything to me-not when I tried so hard to earn his respect as a human being because he obviously favored the boys. It was like I was the bastard kid or something. Anyway, I taught myself how to drive, how to sing, how to dance. I did track in high school to keep up my cardio and when I was thirteen I stole my very first gun. True, it was my father’s from his extensive collection, but holding it did make me feel powerful. I used to take one of the cars (one of the old one’s no one would ever notice was missing) and even though I was a kid, I’d still drive off to the outer limits of Dublin into the countryside just to shoot off random rounds and get accustomed to the sleek design, the weight of it in my thin hands, the feel of the cigarette filter between my lips. It was in these outskirts I met Ambrogio. He was tall, towering over me and I’m pretty tall might I add-even for a thirteen going on fourteen year old. I was shooting at a bunch of cans I had set up while taking a drag from my cigarette when he startled me, asking me why a young lady like myself was shooting at cans like they were people. I told him it was because I wanted to learn how to protect myself. He saw right through my cover up but just laughed. Embarrassed, I raised the gun to his head and in that typical aloof and goofy nature of his, he told me to pull the trigger. I hesitated, shocked someone would even say such a thing and then he moved the gun away and smiled, telling me he’d been waiting forever to do this before he just…kissed me. I didn’t expect it, really. This stranger to come up to me, lay one on me after only about a fifteen minute conversation but instead of pulling away, I found myself melting into it. I didn’t know why I did what I did…maybe it was my form of rebelling against my parents for wanting to “put me in the proper place”. Who knows. I don’t even know. From then on, every day after school we would meet up in the woods, in no man’s land as we started calling it. He was Connor’s age and we talked about everything and anything. I never told him about how my family became wealthy and he never seemed to talk about his own either. It was easy being around Ambrogio. He made me laugh and smile like no one had before. We’d dance to music blasting from my car and eat goodies he took from the bakery he worked in part time. He’d pick me up, spin me around, teach me how to fight someone twice my size, and when I was fifteen, it all ended. Ambrogio said he’d write and we exchanged addresses. I was going to miss Dublin, terribly. To this day I still do. But my family has always meant the world to me and either way-I had no choice in the matter. We ended up in California where the weather was hot and dry instead of crisp and refreshing. Where women wore less in public than strippers in my home country. I didn’t really like California, but I still went to school and did what I always did. Ambrogio and I wrote to each other as much as we could, would chat online, web cast, everything until one day, about two years later, he showed up at my graduation party back at one of the many properties my family owned. We snuck off and went to Venice Beach to be stupid and go skinny dipping and in the back of the town car that drove me around everywhere (since I wasn’t allowed to drive after my fiascos in Dublin), we just became one… If I knew he’d been a Constantino… Well, I don’t even know if I would have ever done it or not. Less than a year later, my father caught us in a hotel room during some crazy party. We’d been in the bathroom, literally screwing each other senseless, when someone busted the door down and they grabbed Ambrogio by the hair and started dragging him out. I panicked, not having realized my father’s men had emptied out the party so they could get this whole ordeal done with. My father called me a traitor, that I was the reason the Constantinos knew where to find them, that I had opened my mouth and done the worst thing I could ever do to my family…I didn’t understand until my father forced Ambrogio into confessing that it had all been planned from the start. He had been assigned to follow me around and once he gained my trust, was supposed to get every bit of information he could out of me. I could see it in his eyes that he was lying and for the first time ever, I didn’t care about the Italians and the Irish. I didn’t care about the conflicts and issues and history. But the only way to prove my loyalty, to prove my worth, was to take the gun handed to me and point it straight at Ambrogio, and pull the trigger. You could say that even though my father was just trying to show me the “light”, trying to tell me how blood would always be thicker than water…I couldn’t ever entirely forgive him for that night. I’d only been about seventeen years old, naïve, stupid, and, well…infatuated. He told me from that day on that I had to watch my back and that he was proud of me. It was the only time, ever, he had said those words to me and though I did feel the swelling of happiness in my chest, it was easily deflated when I saw Ambrogio getting carried away to be dumped on Constantino property later that night like a sack of meat. He didn’t deserve to die that way…but he got involved with a Sewlyn…and that never ended well. Shortly after, I moved to New Orleans because I wanted to start fresh. I didn’t go to college mostly because I couldn’t afford it on my own and I didn’t want to use my parent’s money. I had gone to my father’s funeral, had been there for major family events, like always listened to my brothers and their problems even if they’d never know about me dating, fucking, and then killing (the only person I ever did kill) a Constantino. In New Orleans, I paid the bills by singing and dancing-even if it was half naked-and being a waitress. I worked at a Burlesque club and to my surprise, my name just got bigger and bigger. When Asher left to go to Sapphire Bay, I promptly followed, feeling like New Orleans had lost its glitz and glam for me. I took up the same positions here and it’s been history since then. I’ve had a few flings-all Irish men-but none have ever stuck. Not for longer than a month or so. They just aren’t Ambrogio. personality First things first: I am not my brothers. I just thought I’d make that clear before I start talking about myself because we all know how women, especially Irish women, can get carried away with these kinds of things, yeah? Alrighty. Connor is the “evil” one. Lennox is the “sensitive” one. Asher is the “follower/baby.” I might be wrong on some of that but it’s just the way I’ve always seen it since we were kids. Truth is, there are times I don’t consider them my brothers. Not in a bad sense but in the way that I see them as my own kids. I always felt like it was my job to replace our mom. I didn’t bother replacing our dad. He upset me, yeah? I wanted to be part of the mafia too and he wouldn’t let me because I didn’t have a third leg. Sexist bastard. Whatever. I got over it. I usually just keep all this crap to myself because there is no real point in voicing it, ya know? But you’re sitting here listening-I might as well give you something awesome to listen to, right? I consider myself to be pretty quiet. I don’t like being loud and brash though when it comes to my family, blood is thicker than water and I will just destroy you. I try to avoid violence but if I have to, hey, I was taught by the best so it would behoove you not to mess with me or my brothers at any given moment in time, especially Asher. I love all of them but Asher is a baby! He’s like the little engine that could only he really shouldn’t. I’ve been told I have this mother bear type of vibe, very maternal, rely on my intuition, all that good stuff. I believe it only because I know I’m probably not going to settle down…ever. I have too many high expectations and I get disappointed easily. One lie and you are on my black list. No if, ands, or buts about it. Lying is just this huge pet peeve of mine…I think it’s because most people know I tend to want an Irish man just because I want to follow in our very strong family tradition and so in order to try to get into my pants, men will tell me they are Irish. When I bring something up only Irish people would know about…they bail. It sucks, but that’s life and I just deal with the hand I’ve been dealt. Stubborn should be my middle name. Along with maybe blindly courageous and a great therapist? I got used to my brothers leaning on me for support and I have no problem with it. In fact, when they aren’t around, I tend to feel awkward and like something is missing in my life. They can be a handful but I like it. I always wanted a big family of my own and since I can’t have one anytime soon (and trust me, I’ve tried. It all resulted in failure), I have my brothers who make up for it more times for the better than the worse (despite Connor being like, this tornado…but I still love the kid. He can be entertaining). Other than that I try to have good morals, I try to keep our family values and traditions alive. I try to keep in touch with them as much as possible despite that funny thing life tends to do-just get in the way. I may not be my brothers but at least I have them. | [atrb=width,200] |
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anna christine speckhart| elite| steph
made with love by you could do better @ Caution
