Welcome to Will to Live, a RP set in the fictional town of Monroeville, Maine. Orginally a small fishing village turned college town turned tourist trap, long-time locals are now outnumbered by newcomers in their ever-expanding hometown. Plots are primarily member-driven, with a wide range of interesting and diverse characters to interact with. Feel free to jump right in; fresh perspectives and ideas are always welcome.

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Born: 10 February 1997
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OoC Member Name: Bee
Age: 20
Occupation: Nursing Student | Patient Sitter | Alpha Nu Member
Profile: http://willtolive2.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showtopic=2855
Joined: 23-August 16
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Last Seen: Yesterday at 01:28 pm
Local Time: Oct 24 2017, 06:13 AM
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Scholastica Řezník

MC Student

My Content
Jul 21 2017, 01:47 PM

This year, Scholastica's thrown even more of her all into the first few weeks of school, Rush Week, than she usually does.

Last year had been stressful, after all. For Alpha Nu, Pi Phi, and for Adrienne especially. Scholastica had spent the rest of the summer, time when she wasn't working or flitting from charitable event to charitable event to volunteer work to work again, thinking about how she could fix that. After all, Alpha Nu had become something of a home to her, and she admired Adrienne Kang more than she could even say.

The idea of coming back with nothing was simply unthinkable, and so she'd decided to put a hundred and ten percent back into everything around here.

(Of course, a hundred and ten meant pushing time off something else

and, of course, Scholastica being who she was... pushed off hours of sleep.

She's fine though! You certainly couldn't tell, though her face is a little more pale, and the brightness in her eyes is dulled in the corners, and she knows it can't last forever but then... neither can Rush Week, right?

She thinks, she can last this long. She's done it before.)

It's open house at Alpha Nu Omega, and so the common room is filled with possible inductees and sisters alike. Scholastica has made a decision, a determination to talk to everyone in the room, make a good impression, and pass out a load of flower crowns she'd stayed up one night making.

It's like this, Matilda Rae King meets her, coming close, almost out of nowhere with a weary yet chipper voice. "Hi! I haven't gotten your name yet, here, would you like one?"
Dec 18 2016, 04:38 PM
outfit: x
for Sylvia Morrigan
warnings: mentions of religion

The snow had just stopped falling a few minutes ago, and Scholastica Reznik still has remnants of it melting on her coat and clothes. Her hands ache through her gloves as she sits out on a bench with a paper cup of coffee to warm them in her hands. Just a few steps away is the entrance to a church, with its driveway all swept of snow as of just a few minutes ago.

It wasn't supposed to happen like that, really. She'd been too restless again, bouncing now without schoolwork or clinicals to keep her occupied, and her job only being part time, Scholastica had far too much free time on her hands. And idle hands are the Devil's playings, as her mother once said, so she certainly couldn't let that continue for much longer. She'd come to the church she frequented here in Monroeville early in the morning looking less for this sort of work, and more for any event they may be hosting the coming week.

But, she'd seen someone struggling to get their car out of the lot after last night's snow, and before she could even get inside she'd swept herself away in offering to help in any way she could, which of course led to her and one of the younger deacons being saddled with shovels and asked to clear the snow.

It was the deacon who'd brought her the coffee, when she didn't have the heart to say she didn't like coffee very much she'd simply resolved to sit and drink it, needing a break from the cold anyway.

The deacon had gone in, but according to Scholastica she still had a small section of the parking lot left to go, and she shouldn't get used to the warmer insides of the church until all the work was complete. You see, this was just a break, and a small one at that. (Plus, in her humble opinion, she liked watching people pass by on the street.)

She's fidgety as always, however, moving in the cold seat and twisting and turning half a cup of coffee in her hands. It's this sort of thing that gets her into trouble

it's this sort of thing that her mother really did warn her about when the cup twists too much in her hands and ends up flying out of them. She jumps up, squeaking at the fact that it had hit the feet of someone else, feels shame bubble in her chest. "Oh my gosh, that was hot, are you... oh I'm so sorry."
Nov 24 2016, 08:30 PM
i suppose it was only right, since i’d dreamt of you in a garden.
in it, you did not run from me
but towards. in it,
my skin did not rot in sunlight and i was not forced to hide it under the earth

Once upon a time

Spring was eternal, and harvest was always bountiful.

Once upon a time

this changed.

Her mother was a possessive thing, a Lady of Harvest who gave and gave and gave to the mortals of the world once had a daughter and couldn't bear the idea of giving her away. And so when her child was born, grew like grain or corn and the other bounties she was tied to, a garden was made. Secret, far from any prying eyes, allowed by her grandmother Earth itself. Her mother gave and gave and gave bounty to the mortals of the world

but her daughter she'd hidden away, and alone this girl grew in her garden, tending to her own bounties.

(She was Life as well, Prosperity and Youth.)

No one knew what she looked like, her name or who she was, but somehow news of her existence slipped away from the Earth

and so mortals prayed to her as well. This faceless sheltered thing.

And she heard their prayers, placed her hands against the walls of her gardens and tried to answer. She did what she could, but knew so little beyond her garden's walls. She could not understand every prayer, she could not answer, she could not see if she was doing anything at all.

It gave her a nervous energy, a bounce in her step that sees flowers grow underneath as she paces and paces and paces

and tries

and feels like she isn't doing enough.

But her mother is such a worried thing, cradles her in her arms when she begs to be allowed to do more and coos so softly and sweetly. Darling, darling darling darling... she would say, this is who you are, this is how you must stay. Darling darling darling, you are Youth and Life and the world will corrupt you. And then

what good will you be

to the people who need you?

(What good will you be, no longer hidden away? Nameless, faceless Life and Youth, what will you be if anyone sees your face?

What will you be if you were allowed to learn and grow?

Perhaps we shall see.)

She is a good girl, a restless girl who's heart aches to leave and see the people who call to her, but a good girl all the same. She does not disobey.

She is where she always is.

In her garden, breathing life into flowers that grow larger and beautiful than any else on Earth though, should things go her mother's way, no one will know this except her and the Earth itself. But, a Lady of Harvest should know

(sometimes plague hits, sometimes famine sweeps, sometimes crops don't grow, and sometimes sometimes sometimes they do in the most unlikely of places)

things don't always go according to plan.

Persephone, Prosperina the Kore Scholastica is alone as she is so often.

And then, suddenly

she realizes she isn't alone any longer.
Sep 18 2016, 07:13 PM
because they're baiting you

thread warnings: religious themes, hospital care

She shouldn't be here, that's the first thing she thinks one early morning in the ER when she sees the name written on the chart of the nurse she had been speaking to.

This was a mistake.

But she knows what her auntie would say, holding her on her lap and bouncing her up and down with a black skirt that goes down to the floor. God doesn't make mistakes, Dove, He creates opportunities for you to better yourself. And she tries, and she tries and she tries and she tries not to think this is a test...

but maybe it was.

Early on, she'd decided she was going to take every opportunity her program allowed her. She's still early on in clinicals, only really knows how to take a blood pressure and can't even pass medications yet, but someone sends an e-mail out. Offers a job to those interested. Sitters, for patients who can't be left alone. A boring job some people say, but you can get your homework done.

She thinks this is the perfect opportunity, and so she goes for it.

This is a test almost certainly. Because she gets to the unit early by almost an hour, ready, and as it turns out the patient she's set to watch has been moved, and the nurse leaves her behind to find out where Scholastica has to go instead. They're standing by a door when this happen, one the nurse walked out of with a chart

and her eye immediately caught the name.

Madison Darlington is here.

In that room.

This is a test, to mind your own business. Be good, keep your nose clean, pretend you never saw it at all. But... (and she hates herself immediately because she thinks just a peek and isn't that how it always starts?)

she looks into the room, door open, and a peek turns into a stare. Because there she is

she forgets she's visible, standing in the door the way she is.

(this was a test

and she'd failed it, almost certainly)
Sep 11 2016, 11:58 AM

thread warnings: religious themes/topics, mention of illness

This is only her second time back at the hospital, and already Scholastica has started to feel it.

She feels it in her back and her legs the way she's been standing all day, lifting and moving and holding patients up with care and strength in the Rehabilitation center of St. Oswald's. She's never been strong before, and her arms and legs have been aching for a full week since her first day. She expects it to build.

It's been a long day. Eight hours.

She's exhausted and aching and sore, but she's also feeling proud of all of this. When she moves her arm this way and that and feels it, she remembers her patient today, and the way she'd watched them relearn how to move their arms after a stroke. It's enough to fill her heart, make everything warm and her body buzz with excitement even when she can't move and bounce as much as she wants to.

What should be happening when the day finishes: she should be headed back to the school. There's a bus that she should catch so she can end up back at Alpha Nu. There's homework to do, a paper to write

but Scholastica doesn't get to exist here every day, in scrubs with Monroe College's seal on it, as someone to be respected.

So she wanders.

She can't get a lot of areas without her clinical professor's badge, but she manages to scale as much of the hospital as she can as a guest before her legs give out near the individual doctor offices. There are benches, thankfully, and here she just sits.

Scholastica thinks she'll get up when she doesn't feel that ache anymore. It's fine, the bus will keep coming and she'll be able to make one. Then she'll be home, say her prayers, do her homework.

Through this, she watches others come and go from offices. She says a prayer for each person, whether the look on their faces is joy or despair, and smiles at each one who passes. Doesn't say anything until a familiar curl passes her by.

And then Scholastica sits up from the bench.

"Oh!" she says, tired yet cheerful. "It's you!"

(And then she's embarrassed again. She really only remembered this girl because she'd been pretty.)
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