rowan-macnally

[rowan-macnally]

Rubbing at her eyes, Rowan leaned back against the counter, her coffee mug in her free hand, “Oh?” She prompted, lifting a brow at her friend. With the constant strain of bad news that they’d been pinging back and forth at each other over the last several months, call her a bit shocked to hear that for once, the tide was shifting in the right direction. But how? Waiting for Sawyer to expand a bit more, she sipped at her coffee, silently willing the caffeine to work on smoothing over her budding headache. Blinking as she lifted her left hand, Rowan clocked the sparkling diamond almost instantly. “Holy shit!” She chirped, abandoning her coffee on the counter and lurching forward to get a better look at the ring. “Damn, it only took him twenty years,” she teased with a snort of laughter as she examined the ring. It was beautiful and not too over the top– it was perfect. “When? Where? How?” She fired off, wanting to hear all about the engagement, “You can’t just drop a rock like that in front of me and not give me all the details.”

Sawyer glanced at Rowan, a grin playing at the corners of her mouth. She reached for her coffee, letting her fingers brush the handle before taking a slow, deliberate sip, savoring every bit of it. "If you really want to know," she began, setting the mug back on the counter with a soft clink, "I'm feeling a bit giddy today because, life, for once, decided to toss me a bone instead of its usual punches." With that, Sawyer casually lifted her left hand, just enough for the engagement ring to catch Rowan's eye. "He's making an honest woman out of me," she said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied grin. She let the words linger in the air between them, her eyes dancing with mischief. "So, if I'm acting like I'm about to belt out Kumbaya, just roll with it."

[rowan-macnally]

“You and me both,” Rowan quipped back, though she was dealing with more than just a mental image and was quite literally still finding sand everywhere. It was annoying as fuck, to say the least. Picking up some of the goods that had fallen from the shelves, she set them aside, figuring she’d sort them later, after they’d cleaned up the mess the sandstorm had left behind. Humming thoughtfully as Maeve spoke, she nodded in agreement, “Nah, don’t imagine it would be. It’s good you missed it for more reasons than one.” Rather than get caught up in the festival, where drinks were flowing and drugs were likely following closely behind, Maeve had excused herself from that madness, and Rowan was glad for it. She’d avoided a lot by skipping the festival. Hearing that her trip to the Canyon had its own set of drawbacks though, Rowan snorted softly and glanced over at her sister, “Oh god– hotter than a blistered pussy in a pepper patch?” She guessed, figuring that it had to be absolutely blazing. But still, she had to assume it was worth it. “I want to go– keep saying I will, just haven’t ever gotten around to it,” she supplied, shrugging as she leaned over to pick up a few scraps of trash, “Is it worth the hype?”

Maeve had been lucky enough to dodge the sandstorm, but her sister's store hadn't been so fortunate. The least she could do was help clean up. "Could've lived without that mental image," she muttered, thinking of Rowan finding sand in places no one should. Maeve scrunched her nose at the thought, as she swept up broken glass, making sure she didn't miss any of the tiny shards. "Yeah, figured a music festival wasn’t exactly the best scene for a recovering addict," she added with a casual shrug before dumping the glass into the trash. "It was fun, though," she admitted, nodding with a small smile as she glanced over at her sister. "But I’m never making the mistake of visiting the Grand Canyon in the middle of fucking summer again. An experience or whatever, right?"

[rowan-macnally]

Emmy Rossum

[rowan-macnally]

“Yeah, no, we’re leaving him here,” Rowan decided with a snort of laughter, “Unless you want him pissin’ on your floorboards.” Glancing out the window as Owen drove them further out of town and onto a dirt road, Rowan lifted a brow, wondering where in actual hell her cousin was taking her, and why. As he answered her, she took her eyes off their surroundings and eyed him, “You think?” She questioned, an amused smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, “‘cause I feel like I’ve been a fucking delight, personally.” Really, that wasn’t true and she knew it. If anything, she was just trying to lighten the mood with a little humor. “Nah, guess you’re right. Just juggling a lot, is all.” She’d been trying her hardest not to let it show, but apparently Owen had picked up on it anyway, a fact she wasn’t surprised by. He’d always known how to read her better than most. As he slowed them to a stop at the junkyard, she narrowed her eyes at him, not sure how this was supposed to help with anything until Owen pulled out his gun. Barking out a laugh, she took the pistol from it. Now it all made sense. “Gotta say, this kind of therapy is a little more my style,” she teased, opening the door and stepping out into the cool night air. “Just feels like we can’t catch a fucking break anymore, you know?” She started, checking the magazine before flipping the safety off. “Shit’s been so sideways lately, I dunno what I’d do if something actually worked out.”

"He can come, too, if you want. 'Less he's sensitive to loud noises -- there's gonna be a lot of those." He let out a dramatic sigh, holding his hands up innocently when Rowan threatened to walk even slower, deciding not to allow his usual impatience to get the better of him. After all, he was trying to be a good cousin that night, which hopefully Rowan would be able to see (if she ever made it to the damn car). Once she'd made it into the passenger's seat, Owen peeled off, speeding down the road toward the spot he was thinking of. "Alright, well, in the interest of not gettin' too sappy 'nd whatever," he started, turning down a dirt road off the beaten path, "I've noticed you ain't really been yourself lately." The male tossed a quick glance his cousin's way. "I ain't tryin' to play therapist or nothin', believe me. So, I thought -- you know what's better than talkin' out your feelings?" Owen pulled the car into a junkyard, dirt spraying up from his tires as he made an abrupt stop. Then, reaching over Rowan and into his glove compartment, he pulled out a pistol, offering it her way. "Shooting 'em."

[rowan-macnally]

‘Thank fuck,” Rowan muttered beneath her breath as she surveyed the damage to the shop with her sister. “Ain’t exactly shitting money over here.” Compared to some of the other businesses in town, StopShop got off with only minor injuries, leaving it mostly intact. She was just thankful that her and her husband wouldn’t have to fork over money they likely didn’t have for costly repairs. They’d gotten lucky this time. “Yeah?” She tossed back, thankful to hear that they could probably get it all sorted in a day, “Let’s do it.” Rowan knew it was essential to get the shop cleaned up and open again, but this felt more like an excuse to spend time with Maeve more than anything, and that was something Rowan would never take for granted. Grabbing a broom and dust pan, she glanced over at her sister, “You’re lucky you missed this one– I’m still finding sand in places it shouldn’t be,” Rowan complained with a slight wrinkle of her nose. “You have a good time on your trip?”

@rowan-macnally

Location: Stop Shop

"I dunno. Doesn't look like the damage is too bad." Maeve called out from the back of the store, glancing around at the broken glass scattered on the floor. A few windows had been shattered by the wind, and some racks of food were knocked over, but most of the store remained intact and untouched. She figured the StopShop got off lucky considering the other half of town was having to board up buildings and close down business until the repairs could get done. "Just a few busted windows," she said, moving up the aisle towards the front where her sister stood. "We could probably get it all cleaned up today."

[rowan-macnally]

Slightly hungover but mostly just generally exhausted, Rowan turned a wide eyed look at Sawyer as she emerged into her kitchen and took a seat. It wasn’t like these random visits were an anomaly, but her giddiness was– she’d never taken either of them for morning people. “It’s nine in the morning,” Rowan reminded her, pouring herself a cup of coffee and preparing a second for Sawyer, even if it wasn’t the mimosa she guessed Sawyer wanted. “You’re giddy, like…abnormally so– so what’s wrong? Who fucking died?”

Location: Rowan & Jensen's Home @rowan-macnally

The blonde, unusually giddy, plopped herself at Rowan's kitchen bar with a wide grin. Sawyer had tried to find her at the festival, but the moment the sandstorm hit, Gabe and Sawyer got the hell out of Dodge. That didn't stop her, though; she came to Rowan's house the second she got the okay.

"I'm in the mood for a drink. What do you think? You want one?" she asked, her grin never fading.

[rowan-macnally]

After the recent sandstorm that had rolled through, Rowan was seeking peace in a way that usually only the clubhouse could afford her. Here, she was surrounded by family, and not by bullshit, and so it was a way to unwind after having to clean up the damage at the shop that the storm had left behind. And so here she was, trying to enjoy herself, or at least unwind after being in the shop all day and cleaning up what wreckage the storm had left behind. Pulled from her thoughts as a drink was extended towards her, Rowan looked towards Kathryn and accepted the drink with a soft snort of laughter, “You don’t need to keep making peace offerings with me,” she assured her, head shaking as she chuckled, “We’re good until there’s a reason not to be.” Rowan wasn’t one to keep beating a dead horse– she’d made her amends with Kathryn and that was enough, so really, she’d just settle for a little bit of normalcy, especially in a place where she felt most at home. “You escape the sandstorm or get caught up in it?” She asked, just trying to make casual conversation.

FOR: @rowan-macnally WHEN: July 24' WHERE: The Clubhouse. Int.

Kathryn hadn't been around much lately, business had been more time-consuming that she'd ever known in her life. This was what settling down looked like, but if anything, she was busier than ever before -- the past week when she was finalizing a particularly complicated order. There had been shipment problems, book mix-ups—everything that could go wrong seemed to have gone wrong. Which had brought her to the Clubhouse more and more as weeks had progressed. It wasn't just her in business alone anymore: there were others. But finally, everything was sorted. Tonight, for the first time in ages, she felt like she could relax. Finishing the drink in hand, she held out a second one to the brunette beside her, ready to enjoy a well-deserved break. "Consider it a second peace offering," Kathryn said.

[rowan-macnally]

Rowan was trying to put her best foot forward, despite how shaky the ground often seemed at town events. She was glad to hear that Emiri was trying too. She figured they both owed it to themselves to try and enjoy the festival and not dwell on how quickly it could all blow up in their faces– perhaps even literally. Chuckling softly, Rowan nodded, “No, I get it.” To her. Emiri’s words just meant she understood her brother, and that was all Rowan cared about. “Probably– swear to god, that boy’s a bottomless fuckin’ pit. Always has been.” Really and truly, she didn’t know where he put it all, or how he even functioned. “Aye, just strap him onto the roof of the car like a Christmas tree, that’ll do the trick,” she supplied, chuckling at the mental image.

"Yeah, same." she smiled in agreement as she eventually folded her small bag of sweets and put them inside her purse. Despite her and Rowan's thoughts, Emiri was having a good time - especially with Logan, this had been set as a girls weekend for a while between the two and so they were enjoying every minute of it so far. She shook her head lightly at the tease aimed in her direction, "No, not yet. But I see it as... if he wants to embarrass himself that's fine, you know?" she wondered if that made sense at all spoken out loud, considering it did to her internally. "Pretty sure he's gonna weigh three stone heavier after this weekend though," she laughed a little, "If I have to roll him home I might just leave him here." she was only joking.

[rowan-macnally]

Lifting a brow, she glanced over at Aiden, “Obsessing how?” Of course, her curiosity was piqued, especially when something could potentially concern the wellbeing of any of her siblings. It wasn’t surprising to hear, if she was being honest, not with the way Riley’s mind tended to work. She knew the club had been looking into things, trying to find any lead that they could, but from how Aiden spoke, it sounded like their brother was doing an investigation of his own. “Christ,” she sighed, head shaking softly, “I mean, I’m not surprised, just explains why he’s felt miles away sometimes, you know?”

Aiden simply nodded in response to Rowan mentioning her dipping, it was more in a quiet agreement because he too had thought the same. Lifting his beer he took a long swig before lowering his cup, "Yeah found out he's been obsessing over dad dying," of course he knew they both knew the truth by now, he was just telling his sister what he also knew, "Didn't realise he's been fuckin' looking into people for a year."

[rowan-macnally]

A part of her had known from the moment she asked that her chances of really getting anywhere with this were slim to none, but in her rage, she’d still wanted to try. Like Sawyer said, the first amendment was tricky, leading them down one slippery fucking slope if Rowan pushed. And so she wouldn’t. It’s not like it would solve anything in the long run– it’d just make for some fleeting satisfaction if it even worked. But hearing it’d be easier to go her usual route– one that involved a bat– gave Rowan her answer: while ordinarily a fighter, this time it just wasn’t worth it. “Nah…no, you’re right. If we had real answers to all of this shit, then maybe, but,” she paused, shaking her head, “Doesn’t sound like an uphill climb that I should put either of us through– or my family, for that matter.” They’d already been through enough just because of the publication alone and didn’t need her to start an uproar that likely wouldn’t land in her favor. “I’ll behave– but it’s on fuckin’ sight if I run into anyone from that office,” she warned, though the smirk playing at the corner of her mouth said she was only half-kidding. “How’s that going, by the way? You and the club?” Of course, she meant it from a work standpoint, seeing as she could imagine the sort of business the club would bring her, but Rowan meant it on a personal level too.

Scanning the words on the Tribune, Dean McNally's name snagged her attention. Her blue eyes darted over the sentence again and again, reading it at least three times before she handed the paper back to Rowan. "I mean…" she began, blowing out a strained sigh, her mind flipping through plays and details, any and all angles she could potentially work. "A case like this hinges on the First Amendment, and those fuckers are the hardest to fight, but I'm not saying it's impossible." Sawyer saw angles she could take and, if nothing else, there was enough paperwork to drown the Tribune for the next three years, even if it didn't lead to a resolution. "I could try a defamation suit," she mused out loud. If Sawyer could prove the author knew the information was false or should have known, she had a shot. The trouble was the bike festival, the gala, the ball—all of it left open-ended questions that had never been answered, with victims still seeking closure. There was seemingly nothing to back up her claims, not that any of it would stop her from trying. However, she kept those doubts to herself, not something she'd voice to Rowan, at least not then. "It'd be easier to take a bat to their knees," she said sarcastically, glancing up at Rowan. "Though, I'd have to come pick you up from county lockup. Not exactly the low profile i'm trying to keep with the club right now." Sawyer sighed. She wasn't exactly an optimist, but she was a realist—and she could at least see what she could come up with to hit the Tribune with, if for nothing else, then for her friend.

[rowan-macnally]

“Can you cut that shit out before you get the dog involved?” Rowan snapped, gesturing at the doorway behind her and half-expecting to see her and Jensen’s German Shepherd trotting out behind her to see what all the fuss was about. Thankfully, wherever Lamb Chop was, he didn’t currently seem to be giving a shit about her noisy ass cousin. Sighing, Rowan knew there was no winning here– if she kept refusing him, there was no way in hell he was going away. “Fine,” she muttered, hugging her light jacket further around her. “Please, it’s Tonopah– could probably shoot me in the head on the top step at town hall and you’d be just fine,” she pointed out with a humorless snort. “You know griping at me is just gonna make me walk slower, right?” She quipped back, trying to keep an edge to her tone but the playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth practically ruined her chances at that. Climbing into the car, she shut the door behind her and turned to face her cousin, “Alright, you got me here. Spill– what’s this about?”

Owen pressed the horn one time for good measure, the look of pure annoyance on her face far too amusing. Maybe he had a death wish -- hell, he definitely had a death wish -- but he'd always gotten a kick out of riling up his cousins, Rowan especially. Perhaps because they had similar temperaments, only she dealt with things far more responsibly than he did. Sometimes. "Get. In. The car." He repeated, impatiently waving her over. "Does it matter where? Christ almighty, Ro, it ain't like I'm gonna take you out to a field and fucking shoot ya. Too many witnesses out here." Owen remarked. "Yeah, I actually learned how to tell time last week. Will you hurry your ass up? Jensen ain't gonna burn the damn house down."

[rowan-macnally]

“I’ll spare you the spicy details, don’t worry,” Rowan assured her with a snort of laughter. “I’m just being a fuckin’ sap.” Which was rather rare for her. It seemed to come out only when she was referring to her husband, or when talking about her siblings. Beyond that, Rowan wasn’t much for warm and fuzzy, which she figured was a large part of why she and Nellie got along so well. “Well, you know what they say,” he continued, glancing over at her with a wry smile and a half-shrug, “Good things come to those who wait. In the meantime, I guess if you wanna sell pictures of my feet, I can get behind that.” Chuckling softly at Nellie’s words, Rowan understood the sentiment, but there was no part of her that didn’t count Nellie as a good person. Sure, she might not have been everyone’s cup of tea– hell, Rowan knew she wasn’t either– but she knew firsthand just how hard Nellie loved, and that was a trait that her brothers had never shared with her. “Nah, I think you’re still here ‘cause whoever’s callin’ the shots up there,” she paused, pointing briefly at the sky, “knows how fucked we’d be without you.” There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t believe that. Scoffing as she continued on about Andrea, Rowan found herself nodding in agreement, having never understood how parents could be so heartless towards their children, but both Andrea and Jeffrey both had excelled at it– just in different ways. “Well, karma’s got everyone’s address and a fuckin’ stamp– it’s just a matter of time.” That was what she liked to think, anyway, particularly when it came to shitty parents getting what they were long overdue. Sighing hard enough to flutter her lips, Rowan shrugged as the topic shifted towards her own family, “We’re making it. That article that mentioned Dad kinda ripped open an old wound– just worried what that’s gonna do to Maeve, y’know? She’s shoulderin’ enough without reliving all that hurt.”

"Oh god, I don't need to know how good Jensen is at laying pipe, please, I beg of you." Nellie only had about 3 true friends in this world, she had acquaintances and people she didn't mind spending time around from the club of course, but only 3 that she'd truly call 'friend', and that was Devon, Jensen and Rowan. So of course, she didn't want to hear about how well the man who felt more like a brother than her blood related ones gave it to her other friend. But she'd bare it, knowing how ridiculously happy the two made each other. "But you're right, it'd be awfully fuckin' weird to live in a world where you two weren't moonin' over each other. --- I guess my dreams of making money off your sexual labor must wait."

"A-fucking-men to that." It's the only explanation for a world where Taylor was gone by 45, but both her brothers and Andrea lived well into their 60s. "Definitely explains why I'm still here, creeping towards the big five-fucking-oh" she added a dramatic gag at that, the idea having been something giving her the heebie-jeebies often as of late. "I feel bad, but only for Shep, who believes there's something still in that woman worth loving. The rest of me can't wait until she ends up in that special place in hell made for women who fuck over their children." Nellie slammed the cylinder of her revolver closed more forcefully than needed. "If we're lucky, both Jeff and Andrea will be right next to each other, so they can torture each other for the rest of eternity, and give the rest of us a fucking break. ---- But enough about my shitty family, hows yours?" She couldn't help but chuckle at that.

[rowan-macnally]

Shaking her head as Emiri answered her question with another question, Rowan chuckled softly, "No, not bad at all. Honestly, I'd say it's pretty spot on." In recent years, the lot of them hadn't exactly been conditioned to have high hopes when it came to town events. "You and me both. In fact, I've never wanted to be so wrong in my life," she laughed, pausing long enough to dig out her cigarettes and set one between her lips before lighting it, "Yeah, I am," enjoying it, that was. It was nice just to let loose like this-- she just hoped it lasted. "What about you? My brother embarrass the shit out of you yet?" Rowan teased, knowing Riley was bopping around somewhere out there.

Once Rowan turned down her offer of the snack, Emiri's hand soon dived into the packet just to feed her need to eat something sweet. Listening as the other spoke she nodded faintly, it was nice in some weird way to know that she wasn't actually the only one thinking something bad would happen. At least she wasn't completely crazy, hey? "Is it bad that I don't have an answer?" she chuckled, apparently not being able to think of any examples for things that had actually gone smoothly off of the top of her head. "I'm willing to be wrong though." her smile widened, it would be nice to just enjoy something for once. "Enjoying it so far though?"

[rowan-macnally]

"Yeah, I plan on dipping well before that happens," Rowan muttered, though the only problem was that in a town like Tonopah, everything could change at a moment's notice, making it a lot harder for her to predict or plan her exit. But regardless, she was going to try to enjoy herself while things were still calm, relatively speaking. Lifting her beer to her lips, Rowan eyed Aiden from behind the rim of it, a brow slowly raising, "Criminal minds? What do you mean?"

"Probably will." He gave a light shrug to his shoulder. "Though I'ma be tucked up in bed with my pizza before then." That plan of pizza had been set in stone from the moment he left his house, unsure why he was even bothering today and still, beer was beer, so here he was. "Riley tell you he's been playing fuckin' criminal minds?" he asked, his tone lighthearted as he does so, Aiden wasn't looking to drag any mood he was just curious.

[rowan-macnally]

Initially, Rowan hadn't been sure that she'd attend the music festival, but the longer she lingered, the happier she was that she'd actually seen it through. Granted, most of the artists were far from her favorite, but the atmosphere was making up for it, little by little. Glancing over at Taylor, she snorted into the rim of her drink, "No argument there. People just smack a few sounds together and call it a fuckin' masterpiece nowadays." Shrugging her shoulders, she darted a quick look around, "Honestly, the more you drink, the better some of these people sound. You should try it-- maybe loosen up a little before you give yourself a hernia," she teased, shooting him a wry look.

closed event starter ft. @rowan-macnally location: tonopahella music festival

taylor was standing there like a big guard dog grumbling to himself with his arms crossed over her chest... tatted arms on full display as he scanned the crowd. everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves but him. this was far from his scene and he made it known. "you know anything really passes for music these days, doesn't it?" he fussed to rowan who just happened to be near. "i mean-- what even is this shit supposed to be?"

[rowan-macnally]

Snorting a dry laugh, Rowan glanced over at Sawyer and shrugged, "Oh, I'm sure it's coming sooner rather than later. We should place bets," she droned, head shaking, "God, we sound like a bunch of fucking doomsday conspiracy theorists." Though, Rowan didn't exactly fault them for it; given the way events in Tonopah typically unfolded, they were right to have their doubts and concerns. "Lucky, huh? I don't know her," Rowan chuckled, the concept of luck seeming so foreign to her lately. "I dunno, guess we'll see. You and Gabe planning on coming every day, or just tonight?"

Location: Music Festival

@rowan-macnally

Gabe had been summoned back to the Mad Dog booth, which left her free to hunt down Rowan. "How long before shit hits the fan?" she asked. At this point, bets were on, and she couldn't decide what was more idiotic – the town's persistence in hosting these doomed events, or their own for showing up every time. "If we're lucky, it'll wait until Sunday, when we're all too hungover to crawl out of bed."

[rowan-macnally]

More often than not, Rowan would've preferred to spend her evenings at the Sons clubhouse, but The Outpost wasn't a bad back-up plan when she wanted to unwind alongside people who wouldn't look twice at her. It was a welcoming place, despite the heavy MC undertones it sported, and so that meant there'd be at least two or three faces she recognized amid the madness. Though there were some people who dropped by here that she'd never quite wrap her mind around and always feel suspicious of. That rang true for the ATF operative just down the bar who'd settled in. Tonopah native or not, it was particularly unsettling how quick Gia was to condemn the MC and yet find herself drinking in establishment not only owned by a Son, but heavily populated by men in reapers. Still, it wasn't her business. She was an old lady, and right now, she just wanted a fucking drink. But as Gia addressed her, Rowan couldn't help but raise a brow and look around, wondering how in the hell she could have ever been mistaken queen of anything, especially Springate Crossings. "I know you ain't talking about me," she quipped back with a laugh, inhaling a drag on her cigarette even as a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth, "Afraid I'm not quite boujee enough to be queen of anything other than my own household." It was the truth in her mind, and Rowan just wanted to clarify that, but she still found the sentiment amusing. "What're you doing in a spot like this?" She asked, not afraid to hold back when it felt so wholly out of place for someone who loved the law to end up in a biker bar. "Hope you're off the clock," she amended, because Rowan wasn't here to field any official questions or play that game.

Blur // @rowan-macnally

The dim lights and the haze of cigarette smoke gave the bar its typical grungy charm, a place where people from all walks of life came to unwind. It wasn’t Gia’s usual haunt, but every now and then, she found herself drawn to its lively atmosphere. After a particularly grueling week of high-stakes operations and endless paperwork, she needed a break, and The Outpost was the perfect place to drown out the noise in her head. Gia walked in, her eyes scanning the room. Familiar faces greeted her; locals she’d known since childhood, bikers she kept a wary eye on, and a few colleagues from the ATF who frequented the place for similar reasons. She made her way to the bar, nodding at a few patrons as she passed. Settling on one of the stools Gia placed an order. Her eyes landed on a familiar figure at the other end of the bar. Rowan MacNally, a woman she couldn’t help but admire, despite the complicated web of loyalties that sometimes put them at odds.“Well, if it isn’t the queen of Springate Crossings herself,” Gia teased now.