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Elijah Hall

0 · 665 views · located in New New York

a character in “Moving On”, as played by AcousticBoom




Full Name
Elijah Cain Hall

Eli, Cain




Bounty Hunter

Face Claim
Jason Momoa


His animals, Bailey and Lincoln | Alcohol (specifically Baileys, if he has a choice) | Sunsets | Art | Completing a job | Music

New New York | Crowds | Tinned fruit | Maps


To drink a soda with Bailey and Lincoln beside him at the sea

Elijah is a moderately simple person. He at first, he can appear rough or curt, at the least. He can be difficult to get to know unless he makes a conscious decision to be otherwise, and prefers to rely on himself rather than others. To most people, after introductions are made, he will then appear to be arrogant, but in reality is just very honest and up front. To those he befriends, however, Eli has a good sense of humour, albeit sometimes dark, and is kind. He'll help other people when he can, strangers or otherwise, and is a genuinely kind person who can be accused of being too cautious on occasion.



6' 4"/200lbs

Hair Colour

Eye Colour

Brief Description, including notable features
Elijah is tall man, and not easy to miss. He's well muscled, with very defined features that emanate raw strength. He carries himself upright, and can often be intimidating. He doesn't bother much with his hair, which is long. He mostly just ties it back out of his way so that his hazel eyes appear sharper, but more for convenience than appearance's sake. He treats his beard in a similar way. It is often long, and appears rough, however he is a very clean individual. He has a tattoo on one forearm. Across his right ribs, he carries the scars from a bear attack.


Eli was born to parents who rose him and his older sister in the corner of what had once been a supermarket on the edge of New New York's boundaries. They had another, older, daughter, and two dogs, to guard over the children when their parents were working late to attempt to bring enough food to feed them. Fast-forward a dozen years, and Elijah and his sister, Eva, are alone in the world. Their parents, who died in a drought several years before, left their children with almost nothing. But at the ages of nineteen and twenty one, the children were left with a dog and no ties holding them. They moved to the centre of New New York. There, Eva set up a shop, which Eli supplied with what he could find while Eva herself worked as a makeshift tailor. Together, they built a sort of life, which, a few years later, was joined by a woman by the name of Jessica. Eli and Jessica had a whirlwind romance.

A little shy of his twenty second birthday, Jessica died in childbirth. Eli named their daughter Emma, after his mother. The baby girl became the grief stricken man's sole reason for living. He doted upon her, raising her carefully. Now, five years later, Emma spends her days with her aunt Eva and her evenings with her father when he returns with their dog and horse. Getting by was, and is, difficult at times, but Eli works hard for what little family he's got.

So begins...

Elijah Hall's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Darrow Irving Character Portrait: Marek Andrysiak Character Portrait: Elijah Hall Character Portrait: Remy Saroyan Character Portrait: Shay Brooks Character Portrait: Rowen Madsen
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In a stellar imitation of what had once been the evil genius cliche, Dr. Hart reclined on a (albeit slightly scuffed) black leather swivel chair, and spun in a long, slow circle. It squealed, like nails down a chalkboard, and the good doctor allowed himself a small smile. He'd waited a long time for this day. The revolution of his chair completed itself, and the doctor's eyes narrowed reflexively, pupils contracting at the glare from the computer monitors in front of him. His eyes adjusted, but he looked at the screens unflinchingly. It was an impressive set up, and not only because this was the first instance of electricity in New New York in a century. The long, polished desk was adorned with a grand total of eight screens, the cables that linked them as a myriad of snakes behind them. The screens periodically changed their image. He watched them contemplatively, long bony fingers wrapping themselves around a cracked and steaming mug.

The mug had the words "Trust me, I'm a doctor" written gaudily across them in a rainbow of colours, faded now, of course.

The first two screens settled for thirty seconds on a dimly lit corridor, at alternative angles. It was empty, except for a potted plant in the far corner. It really was an unnecessary and ostentatious attempt at putting his patients at ease, but the leafy green plant sat their nonetheless. An insultingly warm addition to the otherwise clinical hall. The hall itself was punctuated at each end by an identical system of doors. First, inside the hall, was what he affectionately called a 'check point'. Simply, it was a sheet of metal grating, punctuated by a door with a sliding bolt and lock. He was confident enough not to put a hand to the pocket in his shirt. He could feel the reassuring weight of his master key there, cold against his even colder body, even through his clothing. On the other side of both check points were stainless steel double doors. One monitor showed the other side of the first, and the entrance to his facility. The important locks to the entrance, of course, were on the outside. The usual sliding bolt and lock were present, of course, but, hidden for now from his patients who would soon arrive, so as not to startle them, was the bar that would settle across the doors, and the chain and padlock that would connect their handles. Sure, it was crude. And no, it wasn't pretty to look at when it was all locked up, but it would definitely keep them in. He wouldn't have them spreading his secrets across New New York. No, that wouldn't do at all.

He had one more glance of the hall before the screen changed. The left side had nine doors, all matching stainless steel, at equal distances down the wall. Unfortunately, the doors were windowed. He hadn't had time to change them, but the good doctor didn't think it would matter. The doors, all with their own security locks on them, of course, each led to a different room designed for various scientific measuring processes. He'd already briefed the twins on how best to utilise the materials inside.

The screen changed, as did all of the others, which had been previously showing the interiors of his laboratories. Now, they showed what appeared to be exactly the same image. The rooms had been designed with the CCTV in mind. Eight bedrooms, one for each patient, with one extra. Seven was an odd number, and that grated with him slightly, but he had chosen to let it be. He wasn't sure if that number would last, anyway.

Each of the bedrooms - cells - was furnished with a single bed. Comfortable, and most importantly, clean yellow sheets rested on each one. The pillows matched them, of course. A splash of dull yellow against the neutral baby blue of the walls. Each patient would have their personal affects taken from them, and a set of green clothing waited for them in the drawers. At first, they'd all be the same. Modifications, or requests for new items, would be granted once they'd asked the twins, and the twins had checked with him. The same went for the furnishings of their rooms, and the en suite bathroom attached to each bedroom. He had CCTV in there, as well. Purely for scientific monitoring reasons, of course, and they were well concealed. The screens flicked around to reflect that.

Three, two, one.

The monitors changed again, and his eyes didn't blink.

He found himself frowning at the one real luxury he'd had put together for the patients.

The communal area was large, spacious, and on the other side of the second check point. A pool table had been found for them, restored, and pushed into the middle of the room. The seating was plenty, and made up of soft fabrics and arranged so that it would be easy for his patients to arrange themselves as they wished, in a large group, or in pairs or even alone. Fully stocked bookshelves lined one wall. He hoped they would be an intelligent collection. There were board games, puzzles, and sets of cards in one cupboard under a glass coffee table. Tools and supplies for art in another. In one corner there was a small, tidy kitchenette. They would't need to cook, of course. What went in (and out) of his patients would be carefully monitored, so meals were provided. The kitchenette would allow them to make hot drinks, however, or cold if they wanted. The plumbing in the whole building was new, and fairly primitive, but it would be better than anything his patients would ever have enjoyed. Next to the kitchenette, a newly polished glass dining table was surrounded by enough chairs to seat all of his patients. The only comparatively, and metaphorically, 'dull' wall was the one that was occupied by one long mirror. It reflected the inside of the communal space, and it was his favourite thing in the entire lavish room. It was a two way mirror. He turned his chair, and it squeaked in protest. He looked through the window behind him, straight into the communal area, and allowed himself another rare smile. Inwardly, he was amused at how pleased the set up made him. He'd not been this satisfied in a very long time.

He was very much the cat at play with the mouse.

The only window that the patients would have access to was also inside the communal area. Plain with tinted glass, so no one outside could see in, it would give them a sweeping view of the crumbling city. It was a depressing view. Flanking the main window, were two bay windows, which he'd had turned into window seats. That appealed to his inner romantic, but none of them opened.

Dr. Hart turned back to his screens. They'd changed again to show the rooftop. Up several flights of stairs, it was the only way the patients would be able to experience the outside while they were with him, so to speak, and it was encased in a cage of more metal grating. He'd liked it. The grating had been an original fixture, and the exact reason he'd chosen the building. That, and it really was rather tall. The grating for the checkpoints had come from the roof. That was probably why he liked them so much. The door to the roof was rather flimsy, and he could see it through his camera. With just one, light lock, he was supremely unhappy with it, but even if one managed to find their way up there... it wasn't as though they had anywhere to go.

He wiped the smile from his face as he checked the time. Soon, they'd be arriving. They'd hand in their personal affects, to be checked before potentially being returned, and they'd settle in. Dr. Hart was very much looking forward to this. One more screen caught his gaze, though. It was the most secure room in the complex, and it held his life's work.

The Actirine there would be enough to last them a week. After that, the twins would hand in their weekly reports, and receive a new batch.

There were two boxes, both tightly locked in a safe, to which only the twins knew the code. One box held seven small cylindrical containers, each with three pills in it. Three patients to test the drug for him, taken orally. The other box was larger, and held twenty eight needles, filled with a measure of the drug. He'd never seen it administered via injection, which would theoretically be inserted to the inner elbow. Dr. Hart was looking forward to that, in particular.

The good doctor sat back in his chair, at ease, and took a sip of his tea. It burned his mouth, but he swallowed it anyway. It would be an eventful day.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elijah Hall Character Portrait: Rowen Madsen Character Portrait: Rachel Madsen Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The sun rose early, upon that particular day, sending dusty shafts of light into Elijah's room. He rose one hand from the shadows of the low cot he'd been wide awake on and let his fingers chase a mote of dust. The dog on his legs grumbled, dropping a heavy paw on his knee in protest of his movements. Eli, dropped his head back down to the folded blanket he was using as a pillow and tangled his hand in the fur upon Bailey's head instead. He'd miss the animal. Turning his head, he looked into the rest of the room. His sister slept in what really was a bed on the other side. The sunlight hadn't quite reached her yet, but even so, he could clearly make out the shape of his little girl who curled sweetly into her aunt's back. Emma snored softly. The man felt old, and his stomach wrenched at the thought of having to leave her, even though it would just be for a while. His little girl. Elijah curled his free hand into a fist over his chest and stifled the instinct to stay. Evie would look after her like her own. He knew she'd be okay.

The sun continued to rise for a couple more moments, and Elijah savoured the last moments he'd have at home for a while, with his dog warming his feet and the sound knowledge that his family were safe.

Then, he roused himself. Eli planned to leave before Emma woke up. He'd said his goodbyes, and the girl's father didn't intend to make things any more difficult than they had been. Elijah rose silently, as he had so many times before. Already dressed, the man walked barefoot down the stairs. He knew the building well, and avoiding the creakiest of the stairs. The dog followed him, with no regard for silence, but the clattering of her claws was a common noise.

Downstairs, Elijah splashed his face with cold water. The sting brought himself back to himself. One hand twitched slightly as he pushed aside the emotions that told him he should stay, so he didn't linger long. He slapped two sheets of paper on the counter of the shop they lived above, knowing it'd be found in a couple hours time. He'd never been a man of many words, and the letters addressed to his daughter and to his sister were the longest essays he'd ever written. Eli laced his boots, and left the house, following his dog down the slowly lightening streets of New New York.

"To Emma, my daughter"

The words rang painfully in his head and he dutifully ignored them, splashing through puddles heartlessly as he made his way to the address he'd been given. The empty streets looked down at the man who walked away from his only child with unconcealed disgust.

"I'm sorry daddy has to go"

He paused to let Bailey catch up, and rubbed at his beard. He wasn't far, and he wasn't afraid. He'd been told this would be for the good of the city, and that, by extension, meant Emma too. His wife's voice echoed in his head. She was more than a ghost to him. He'd promised her never to leave their daughter. Hands made tight white fists.

"I'll be back soon, darling. I promise."

Bailey came to his side. They were almost there, and he was fairly sure his dog would definitely not be allowed with him. Sighing, Eli crouched, and ruffled Bailey's fur. The animal seemed sad, as though she knew what was happening, and butted her head against his knee. He laughed softly, humourlessly.

"Daddy loves you very, very much"

"Go on, Bai," he told her. He stifled a groan as he got back to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. "Get home."

The dog obeyed, not knowing the words but understanding the meaning. She paused uncertainly, and watched as the man walked around the corner. With one street left, he began to compartmentalise his thoughts, setting his guards and pushing away the feelings that would make him weak. The building loomed closer, and he recognised it for what it was by the two figures stood at it's foot. He hailed them with a lifted hand, which he then offered to them warily.

"'Morning," he grunted, pushing loose strands of hair back with the hand he had free. "Name's Elijah. Elijah Hall. You should be expecting me."