liam-griffiths

[liam-griffiths]

kashvis​:

Early mornings weren’t a rarity for Kashvi. With her agenda filled to the brim, unyielding trouble with sleeping properly and the help of a rather stubborn caffeine addiction, she found herself awake and working at inhuman hours. Maybe she was a workaholic — Kashvi simply thought of herself as devoted. And so, after waking up at four in the morning, she had decided to pop into the Ritz basement to see how the proceedings were going. 

But her phone buzzed the moment she had entered through the doors, and five minutes worth of a hushed, frustrating phone conversation with one of her Angels had followed. Kashvi was patient as she spoke, but her body language revealed exasperation: rubbed temples, rolled eyes, softly kicking against an empty chair. “Okay, okay, listen. I can be there in an hour, so hold tight.” She runs a hand over her face, tries to keep her voice calm. “It’ll be fine. Call me if something comes up, but only if it’s urgent.”

She hangs up before there can be a word of protest and sits down on the chair she’s been kicking with an agitated sigh. Kashvi lets her gaze travel through the near empty lobby, eyes falling on a stranger with a notebook. She meets his eyes with a raised eyebrow before unlocking her phone again and beginning to type hastily. This was exactly why she tended to get up early; things hardly ever went according to plan. 

He started with the obvious; in the near-empty room of tired old men in suits who couldn’t wait to have their tea and coffee, the woman carried herself with purpose. The phone call was inaudible but her body provided enough details for the aspiring writer to start scribbling something like a clandestine meeting that had to be postponed due to a personal emergency...was she talking to an errant child? Her expression seemed to suggest it.

The phone call had finally ended as Liam paused, and her quirked brow was met with a soft frown from the man whose attention had now shifted to nitpicking each line that he wrote about her. His gaze was still on the brunette, though Liam was already deep in thought about what other possible reason he could think of for his chosen character-- her --to be there so early and who the person on the other line could be.

“Someone fucked up huh?” he spoke absentmindedly as he finally snapped back to the present. Liam was merely thinking out loud though it seemed that it was directed towards her in an attempt to converse.

[liam-griffiths]

Date: January 2021 (thirty-six hours before the fateful meeting with Solomon Romero) Location: The Ritz Lobby Status: OPEN (Interactions with 1 of 3)

The fifteen-hour shift barely made a dent to the man’s demeanor; Liam was feeling somewhat cheery, and why wouldn’t he be? A three-page draft was produced during his lunch break, the most he’s written in the last week. He was starting to think that perhaps the exhaustion was what he needed to focus. And with his work uniform discarded, the American made his way to the front desk.

At five in the morning, the lobby of The Ritz hotel was almost deserted save for the odd few who were either waiting to check-out or were just about to check out; it was during this time that the aspiring novelist would watch them as he fabricated stories about who they could be and what business they might have. It was a writing exercise and a form of entertainment as he remained oblivious to the real happenings around him. One scene in particular, interested him, and Liam situated himself just far enough to keep watch as he began to write in his weather-worn journal. 

[liam-griffiths]

[liam-griffiths]

LIAM GRIFFITHS.

Age: 36  Affiliation: War Rank: Power Pronouns: he/him FC: Steven Yeun Status: played by Hyde.

You’d had such big dreams, the sort to dance through your mind and fill you with hope, until they were dashed upon the rocks – much like the skull of the poor soul who had dared to anger War. Working at The Ritz hotel had been a stepping stone to greatness, keen to become the next big fiction writer but in desperate need of a way to pay your bills before then. Quiet in temperament and prone to having your head in the clouds, you’d been minding your own business while cleaning one of the hotel rooms when a murder took place in front of you. Sleepless nights still play the scene on repeat, projected onto the back of your eyelids, watching helplessly as their life is snubbed out like a finished cigarette.

ROLE.

Every criminal enterprise needs a clean-up crew, you suppose. Having helped Solomon clean up and dispose of the body in the hotel room, you were threatened with having the murder pinned on you if you didn’t agree there and then to join War’s ranks. Now you’re destined to a life of sorting out other people’s messes, your conscience weighing heavy in your mouth as you bleach blood stains out of another shirt.

BIO.

             "My name is Yun-Jae Park, I am seven–“

‘No, your name is Liam, Liam Griffiths,’ corrected the bespectacled woman in a nervous but gentle tone. ‘Can you say Liam?’ she asked, but the boy only stared back in silence.

Heat crept from his slouched shoulders to his pale cheeks as twenty other children watched him, wondering why the strange boy would introduce himself with a different name. Miss Abernathy would eventually ask everyone to take out their books instead, allowing the newcomer to sit back down and spend the rest of the day looking at words that did not make sense to him. Small fingers then grabbed a pencil as he wrote on the page with uncertainty, a name that was to be his new identity.

                 'It’s five dollars, right?’

The question remained unanswered until a hand connected with the back of his head; Liam was startled out of his fevered scrawling, the images of dark alleys and shadowy figures replaced by the harsh lighting of the high school cafeteria. He looked up to see Dash Reynolds looking impatient, almost annoyed even, as the older boy repeated his question.

Liam looked back at his notebook, a hint of longing to jump back into his make-believe world before deciding to close it entirely and address the senior.  He hadn’t meant to make a business out of it, doing other people’s writing assignments, but a favor here and there turned to tokens of appreciation for that B+ in Creative Writing. It went on for the rest of his freshman year as news spread of the Asian kid who’d do your homework for you, and by then it was too late for him to back out.

Or so he claimed. In truth, Liam secretly liked being needed;  it was through his writing that he communicated with a world that didn’t seem to care if he got swept away and drowned. Surely all of this was for something? That he was destined for something bigger and he wasn’t just another dysfunctional teen? He was helping them, so this must be okay, this made him better than his parents…right?

The dark-haired boy nodded, but not before changing his mind. “It’s twelve now, but I can get you an A on this.”

             'Your father wanted to be here, but…’

His mother’s voice trailed off; she didn’t even bother to supply an excuse for her ex-husband. Part of him wanted to ask what could be more important than their adopted son’s high school graduation, but Liam already knew the answer: anything else that didn’t have to remind them of their failed marriage. So the boy just nodded, accepted her answer for what it was as they walked towards the auditorium.  But she was no better, and her blue eyes remained on her work mobile for the entirety of the event.

Robert and Mary Griffiths both loved children, but years of failing to conceive naturally and multiple fertility tests deemed them incompatible, in more ways than one. Call it love or pride, but the couple refused to give up that they were willing to travel overseas to find their passion project. By the time they were approved, they could barely stand each other, and the responsibility of raising a child that didn’t even look like them had lost its appeal. But there were no takebacks and much like their marriage, they were all stuck together.

                    “And the proof of the generosity of his soul was when he took me in.”

Liam paused, dark eyes looking straight ahead as the attendees watched him, perhaps looking for signs of grief or if he was indeed the ungrateful adopted son who chose to spend their savings to go on backpacking trips to pursue his unrealistic dream of becoming a novelist.

But there were no savings. It was my own money and I worked hard for it.

Liam wanted to tell them the truth, of how he hadn’t seen his father since graduating high school because the man didn’t have a permanent address and how since his mother remarried, he wasn’t allowed to go back for thanksgiving or any holidays because it made her husband and children 'uncomfortable’.

The church doors led to a beautiful lawn and for a moment, he fancied himself running out and leaving them to finish the service without him, book the next flight out of the country. But the sound of his seven-year-old half-sister suppressing a whine urged him to continue with the eulogy.

He’ll dedicate today to his family then, he decided, they needed him, even if his mother didn’t say so.

“I wish we had more time so that I could tell him how much I appreciate him.”

                  'HELP WANTED.’

London was perpetually overcast but it suited him fine, it was the perfect metaphor for his life as he had finally run out of funds and still no book published. Liam argued that years of traveling to different exotic (and non-exotic) locales were what he needed to become a good writer, that he can finally graduate from just submitting one-shot pieces to weekly and monthly publications, but it proved harder than he thought. He needed to actually sit down and write, and not be distracted by every picturesque view that he had in front of him. He needed a stable job, and with the help of a friend that he met through one of his backpacking trips, he was able to secure a job at The Ritz.

It was nothing glamorous, but it didn’t differ from all the odd jobs he’s done his life. It was a peaceful existence, and Liam even started working on his drafts again. But if he was the lead character of a story, it would need a conflict. And that was what Solomon Romero was. The hotel room was spotless, and the security cameras were taken care of– just like the things he researched about from a time when Liam fancied himself to pen a crime thriller. It would make him a decent criminal, if not for the bile that he could taste in his mouth the entire time.

CONNECTIONS.

Solomon Romero. It was your Dominion who forced you to join War, ensnaring you without anywhere else to run. You resent them for it but hold your tongue for the sake of survival. You’ll find a way out of this eventually and until then you’ll simply play the part of a people-pleaser.

Samir Kotecha. You know that they’re clever and you hope, dearly, by sticking close to them, they might help you find a way to get out of this and return to the comparably blissful life you had before.

Zacharias Winchester. You’ve seen the way their cousins treat them like little more than an employee and it’s enough to make your stomach curdle. You offer reassurances and a sturdy hand on their shoulder, stepping in to fill sibling-like shoes.

[liam-griffiths]

The hotel room was spotless, and the security cameras were taken care of– just like the things he researched about from a time when Liam fancied himself to pen a crime thriller.  

Meet LIAM GRIFFITHS. played by HYDE.

Gosh, I love the idea that Liam is the lead of his own crime novel; that his life is unfolding before him like words on a page. His ability to be good at what he does on behalf of War stemming from his research as a novelist is so exciting! And unfortunate, admittedly. We also adored all the history that you packed into Liam, his quiet childhood and how he began to fall in love with words felt so special to me. Welcome to HORSEMEN. 

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We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.

Anais Nin (via tis-a-nom-de-plume)

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STEVEN YEUN G L Askew II × Backstage Magazine › 2021