๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’ on RolePlayer.me - www.roleplayer.me/dogface ๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’
Formerly known as "Historian"; Multi LI

Male
39 years old
Inverness, Highland
United Kingdom

Last Login:
December 28 2023

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     ๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’'s Details
Characters: Roger Jeremiah Wakefield MacKenzie, Roger MacKenzie
Verses: Outlander, Time Travel, Doctor Who, crossovers
Playbys: R&R Connection
Length: Multi Para, Novella, Para
Genre: Romance, Science Fiction, Television,
Member Since:January 09, 2019




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   ๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’'s Blurbs
About me:
Who I'd like to meet:
Roger MacKenzie

I love you a little. A lot. Passionately. Not at all.

Main Connections

Brianna Randall-Fraser Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.

โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข

Jeremiah MacKenzie Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.

โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข

Claire Randall-Fraser Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.

โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข

James Fraser Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.

โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข

Frank Randall Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.

โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข โ€ข

Lord John Grey Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.

Roger was born in Kyle of Lochalsh to Marjorie and Jeremiah ("Jerry") MacKenzie around 1941. His father left to serve in the Royal Air Force during the war, and died when his plane reportedly went down over the English Channel in October 1941. A few years later, Marjorie MacKenzie was killed when a tube station collapsed in London during the Blitz, and the orphaned Roger was taken in by his maternal great-uncle, the Reverend Reginald Wakefield, who raised Roger with the help of his housekeeper, Mrs. Graham. His childhood in Inverness as the minister's son was fraught with the usual schoolyard rebellions, and in his teenage years he spent summers working on a herring boat in the Minch, where he learned to speak Gaelic from the fishermen.

All his life Roger had believed that his father, a Spitfire pilot, had been shot down over the English Channel; however, years later Claire advises him that Spitfire pilots never flew over the Channel, and that she recalled Frank mentioning the strange occurrence of a pilot missing from a plane crash site in Northumbria โ€“ and that the name Jeremiah had a certain doom about it. Claire reminds Roger that there are stone circles all over Northumbria, and that, in combination with Jerry's disappearance on Samhain, could mean that he became an accidental time traveler.

Roger's ability to travel through the stone circles seems to be hereditary, passed down from his ancestress Geillis Duncan, who had borne an illegitimate son by Dougal MacKenzie. The child was adopted into another MacKenzie family after his birth and became William Buccleigh MacKenzie, also a traveler, and Roger's grandfather some six times over.

II.Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.

Duis autem vel eum iriure dolor in hendrerit in vulputate velit esse molestie consequat, vel illum dolore eu feugiat nulla facilisis at vero eros et accumsan et iusto odio dignissim qui blandit praesent luptatum zzril delenit augue duis dolore te feugait nulla facilisi. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit, sed diam nonummy nibh euismod tincidunt ut laoreet dolore magna aliquam erat volutpat.

Personality

Though he grew up in a loving home, raised by his mother's bachelor uncle and his housekeeper, the early loss of both his parents and lack of any other kin well into adulthood affected in Roger a profound longing for family. He is compassionate to a fault, in that a well-meant gesture on his part is sometimes interpreted as overly familiar or inappropriate. Generally good-humored and relaxed, with a mischievous sense of humor, Roger rouses to anger more slowly than his Fraser relatives, though he can reach a fury no less formidable should the situation call for it.

With a background in history, Roger has a scholar's "insatiable, amoral curiosity"[3] which he carries with him when he goes through the stones to the 18th century. He is also passionate about music, particularly Scottish folksongs and Gaelic hymns.

Stats

Name Roger Jeremiah Wakefield-MacKenzie
Date of Birth January 4th, 1941
Place of Birth Caol Loch Aillse, Inverness, Scotland
Profession Minister, Scholar, Folk Singer
Parents Marjorie and Jeremiah MacKenzie (Birth), Reverend Wakefield (Adopted)
Nationality Scottish
Religion Presbyterian
Hair/Eye Color Black/Moss Green

Love Interest

Name None
First Date
First Kiss
Engaged
Married
Children Jeremiah MacKenzie, Amanda MacKenzie
Song Dedication
Comments

I will always sing for you.


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หšโ‚Šโ€งโ™กโ‚Šหšใƒปโ‚Šโœง

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๐Ÿซ๐—๐— ๐—ฐ๐—ถ๐—ฟ๐—ฐ๐—น๐—ฒ.

angelic แตแตƒสธสฐแต‰แต

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winter's blues.

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๐’–๐’๐’•๐’‚๐’Ž๐’†๐’… ๐’‘๐’๐’˜๐’†๐’“.

๐”ผ๐•š๐•˜๐•™๐•ฅ๐•™ ๐•Ž๐• ๐•Ÿ๐••๐•–๐•ฃ

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๐”ฑ๐”ข๐”ข๐”ซ ๐”ฏ๐”ข๐”Ÿ๐”ข๐”ฉ.

Bellona.

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๐˜š๐˜๐˜ˆ๐˜‹๐˜–๐˜ž๐™†๐˜ผ๐™.

ส™สŸแดษดแด…แด‡ แด€แดส™ษชแด›ษชแดษด.

Josephine

แด„ษชส€แด„แดœสŸแด€แด›ษชแดษด

Nova

๐”ฏ๐”ข๐”ก๐’‰๐’๐’•.แŸ

๐šŠ๐šž๐š๐š›๐šŽ๐šข.




๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’'s Friends Comments
Displaying 9 of 9 Comments (View All | Add Comment)
๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’

Sep 12th 2019 - 8:01 PM



He was free. By the good graces of the Lord Almighty and the Minister's sacrifice, Roger managed to scrape his way out of the Idiot Hut and escape captivity. Stumbling into Claire was a welcomed sight, one that he hadn't realized he needed in the last year. A soft touch was an unusual concept to him; he was used to gruff fingers digging into his flesh and pulling him around every which way. He was used to broken bones, severed flesh, the feeling of starvation. He could remember the idea of not bathing -- probably the entire time he was captive -- and the meek portions of fish he got, if he was lucky. It wasn't enough -- her touch wasn't enough. He longed for Brianna, to know she was okay...for her soft and delicate touches that made his flesh tingle. Her warm embraces, so much like her mother's, that made him feel like he was home.

He stared at Jamie from Claire's arms, barely registering their conversation. For a very brief moment in time, he was comforted by the knowledge that it was a case of mistaken identity; but there was no solace to be found there. The only solace he found was in Claire's arms; and the look Jamie gave him made him wonder if he had overstayed his welcome. He was still weak, fighting off whatever mess he was exposed to, he wasn't even sure he could stand on his own without tumbling to the ground. Ignoring Claire's question of how he escaped -- and the fact that his hands were now stained in blood of a man too stubborn to listen -- he looked away.

"Aye, we fought. But ye got it wrong. All o' it. I didnae leave her. She asked me tae go." He knew that wasn't enough to plead his case; not with a man that had the same temper as his daughter. Standing to his feet, he gently pushed Claire's arms away. He was now toe to toe with his father in law. "She told me tha' she never wanted tae see me again. I was going tae leave, but when I went back for her, she was gone." He bit his cracked lip, blood trickling down his jaw. "I respected her wishes."

When Claire mentioned that Brianna was pregnant and there was a possibility the child was his, he spun on his heel, staring at her with bright, enthusiastic eyes. But then came the commentary that it could also be the result of her rapist. He thought back through the myriad of people he'd passed that day, people he'd questioned, remembering one in particular. The only memory he could retrieve was of a blonde girl watching them from the picture window of the inn. It couldn't possibly have been her, though there was no doubt in his mind that she had a hand in it. Before he could even breathe to say anything, he was being thrown about by the collar of his shirt.

Jamie's threats fell on deaf ears. Roger paid him no mind. There was a small part of him that wanted to say something sarcastic, but he let that part of him go. "Ye ken, A was told ye were hard-headed. The audacity tae think I coulda left an didnae go. A suffered through yer attack again' me for nae reason; an yer nae innocent either, blondie. A went through a year of being starved, beaten, an' passed through a camp as a chewtoy...an yet ye stand here, high an mighty, actin' as if it all wasn't for her. Dinnae think for a moment, o' course, tha' if I intended on leavin, I would have done it at Wilmington. If there be even a small shred of my blood in tha' bairn, no matter how impossible it may seem, then he's mine. I had nae family; I intend on making sure tha' bairn does -- mine or no."

Then, he caught his breath finally, pushed Jamie's arms off of him and reared back to swing. "An tha's for sellin' me to the Mohawk." He swung again, connecting with his jaw this time. "An tha's for assumin' Ah'd leave my wife tae raise a bairn alone. By all tha' is holy, unless A die, she will never be alone."




๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’

Sep 12th 2019 - 6:11 PM



It was easy for her to say the love of her life. She always said it with such certainty, he was painfully reminded that he didn't know what that felt like. He had no unconditional love from parents, he had no best friends (besides Fee) growing up, he didn't find solace in his uncle's church. In fact, Roger could only semi relate to the way she felt, because although he'd never experienced it himself first hand, he knew he wanted to and that was enough to keep him believing that there was merit to her commentary. He set down the glass of whiskey in favor of a small airplane that was nestled on top of a stack of papers. His habit was fidgeting, and twisting the plane in his fingers helped him think better.

"I'm sure he's alive. I'll find him for ye." His tone changed to one of determination. If you asked him, it all sounded like nonsense, but her voice sang a different tune. What harm could it do to find out for her? If she couldn't go through the stones, Brianna would probably never forgive him for her mother's concussion. And if she could -- what was there to lose? He didn't know how any of it worked, but she was so sure, and he couldn't take that from her. "With Frank gone..." Roger grew quiet now, contemplative. Frank was a good friend of his Uncle, the two were in constant contact. Frank would send images of Bree and brag about her, but there was always a note of depression when Frank had to remind others that Bree wasn't his child. "Ye kent abou' my parents. No bairn should ever hae tae live with 'at."

His tone shifted again, setting down the plane, he retrieved a leather bound notebook with dates scribbled into it. "In fact, A think A ken where tae start lookin'. A long time ago, my uncle started searchin' for answers for Frank, but Frank asked him tae discontinue his search. Ever th' voracious scholar, th' good reverend didne listen. He's got notebooks all over th' place full ay information...both on th' Fraser an' th' MacKenzie clans. A'd bet there's somethin' in there we can use as a divin' of point."


๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’

Sep 12th 2019 - 4:54 PM


Don't be an idiot. Don't be an idiot.

Roger was never one to turn his back on faith; he'd been raised by a Reverend uncle of his mother's. In fact, he spent equal amounts of time studying the bible as much as he did Scottish history. But there was something to be said about the fact that he willingly closed his eyes and ran. Don't be an idiot. Don't be a hero, Roger. You know what happens to heroes. His feet carried him faster than he could move, stumbling over rocks and fallen tree limbs. This wasn't the pathway he remembered coming through on.

Sounds of shouting were echoing in the distance behind him. Was it the Minister or was it the encampment? No, they'd be too busy torturing the minister to notice that Roger was even missing, that was the plan...that was the idea. Roger had begged the Minister to give up his faith and baptize the baby, simply because it wasn't fair for that child to live without a father. But he refused to turn his back on his religion...and Roger couldn't fault him for that. But this was different; escape was there at the skin of his fingertips. All he had to do was...

...run.

Don't be an idiot. Think of what you're running to. Who you're running to. Do it for her.

Of course he would do it for her. He would go to the ends of the earth if it meant Brianna would be safe in his arms. The shouting grew duller and quieter, he slipped down an embankment and rolled towards a river, where there were horses tied to trees and bed-rolls in the grass. He recognized one of the horses and the perfect braids of the mane; braids that he'd once seen in Brianna's hair in a school picture. His heart nearly stopped; Brianna wasn't here. She couldn't be. She wouldn't have come with the cavalryย looking for him.

The voices startled him. He was moving in towards the horses when he heard Ian and Jamie discussing how they were going to get into the camp to save Roger. When Roger moved to hide behind the tree, he very faintly heard a female eep; and more surprisingly, it wasn't Brianna. He slowly backed away and reached out to touch her arms. "Claire? Oh God, tell me I'm no' imaginin' this. Please tell me this isnae another dream."ย 

He waited for her to answer, while Ian and Jamie flanked beside them. He recognized Jamie, his apprehension high. The man had, after all, been responsible for beating him near death. The other was the one who sold him to the indians. As far as he was concerned, the only one he trusted was Claire. "It cannae be a dream. A highly doubt tha' either o' ye would be here tae save me after sellin' me tae th' indians." His gaze was square on Jamie, waiting for Claire to tell him that it was safe.


๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’

Sep 11th 2019 - 8:04 PM


Someone You Loved.

The sound of war was ever present in the back of Thomas Gillan's mind. A Scottish born native, with the intent of serving in the war for a greater purpose, he'd ended up there very much on purpose.ย  Unlike the others, whom were drafted, he and Miles had willingly chosen to be there. The two were recent graduates of Oxford University Medical School, Miles had convinced him to join the cause. He'd often preach about how "women loved a man in uniform", which wasn't the reason why Thomas had enlisted. World War I had only just begun and they were looking for fresh recruits; Thomas and Miles were in the prime of their youth...and as much as he hated the idea, his pride was in question and Miles won in the end.

Miles was not a bad friend, not by any means. He simply was the co-conspirator of most of the dumb things that Thomas would not normally do. Still, there was a certain kind of grace about him that most others didn't have. Surgeons were often revered as being stuck up and narcissistic; Miles and Thomas were more likely to raise a hand to anyone who crossed a woman. And although Thomas might have come across as condescending and hateful towards women, he was highly devoted to their protection. Most of the nurses were aware of this, as he was most likely to be involved in a brawl over a woman's honor.

When Miles made an off-handed reference to a woman named Kitty Trevelyan, a volunteer nurse that had recently arrived, Thomas didn't consider the notion of falling in love. The woman was vexing and often crossed his last nerve; and the way she pranced around like she wasn't trying to make men swoon was infuriating. Unlike Rosalie or Flora, who had enviable bedside manner, Kitty almost seemed like she didn't belong there.ย 

Maybe she didn't. Maybe she was like him, and the two were running from something.

Over the six month period that they served together in France, they came to an understanding. Shortly after Thomas discovered that Kitty was colluding with the German forces, that bond was severed -- though it was neat and tidy. He made it very clear that he wasn't going to support anyone colluding with the enemy; not while it was his job to keep those men alive.ย 

After a long argument that, subsequently led to a rift between them, Kitty errantly assumed that he had intended to turn her over to the military police for her part in Sister Joan Livesly's connection toย Anton Erhlich's arrest.ย  Kitty and Thomas stood in silence while Joan -- a very well respected nurse -- was pulled towards the convoy that would ultimately execute her for refusing to give up the enemy position. Anton tried to force his way to her, only to be shoved into another convoy.

Kitty later confided in Thomas that she was, indeed, hiding from something back home. She told him that she had a child that she couldn't see because of a series of unfortunate events. She hadn't wanted to see Joan taken for what she'd done; she only wanted the woman to be able to read letters he'd left behind -- he wasn't supposed to be there. Kitty felt responsible for the woman's death, and, turned to Thomas for solace on the matter.

Personal entanglements were strictly forbidden in times of combat; the two had to meet in secret, for fear of being caught and court marshalled. This continued for months, most people knew, but kept it under the rug because they didn't want to lose a good surgeon. For months, the two would meet in the woods and talk as though there wasn't a war going on. They would gossip about Miles and Rosalie, speculate about Foley's masculinity, and joke about Flora's constant need to be seen.

But that was the problem about being in a combat zone. When it's quiet, people often speculate about how there couldn't possibly be any danger. No, when they were that far from the battlefield, there could never be any kind of harm at the encampment. There was the occasional psychosis, or episode of extreme fevers that caused acute mania...but there was never worse than that. Unfortunately, when Anton was arrested and handed over to the executioner, that also exposed their position to enemy forces.

The encampment was silent. Dead silent. A german soldier was brought in with a horrific burn on both legs. He'd been a victim of a grenade launched at him and the shrapnel was the least of their concerns. It was unclear how he'd ended up at their camp; maybe it was the fact that he'd beenย sent as a spy. Maybe he'd crawled there because it was the first place he found help. The entire faculty was on high alert, paranoia and tension running high.

The paranoia wasn't misguided. Kitty had been charged with the man's care, since she was the only one who was unafraid of danger. She was more likely to treat everyone as human, regardless of their position in the war. This was why she was such a good nurse. Somewhere around five in the morning, in the wee hours, she was sitting at the man's bedside, cleaning the wound on his leg. She had been too invested in what she was doing to notice him pulling a gun from under his pillow. Where he'd gotten it was a mystery, they never did figure it out; no one reported a service weapon missing...likely for fear of being charged for defecting.

It was a silent morning when the gunshot rang out; the entire camp awoken from the night before. As nurses scoured tents trying to find the source of the gunshot, it was Flora -- poor little Flora -- who found the mess in Tent 3. It was the one where they were assigned if they weren't mortally wounded and could return to the field in a few days. The first thing the small girl noticed was the amount of blood on the bed, followed by the source. She assumed it was from the soldier, but it seeped through to the back of Kitty's uniform, where she lay slumped over the man's bed. The soldier had long since vanished into the camp.

Flora fought for her voice, trying to scream for help. It was a silent eek, maybe two, before she screamed out that they needed a doctor. She raced over to her friend and colleague, leaning her against the chair so she could assess the damage. Flora had failed every first-aide exam she was given, but she was determined to remember how to save a life. She wadded up the sheet off the bed and pushed it into the wound, listening to Kitty's painfully ragged breaths. They sounded more like whisps of breath, eventually they would cease. Flora screamed once more. Miles rushed into the tent, throwing the flap to the side. When he saw Kitty sitting there, blood pouring from the wound, he knew what had happened.

"Flora." He came closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Flora! We have to move her."

"Is that safe?" She asked, her voice small in the silent room. She was hesitant to move her, fear of her bleeding out crossing her mind. "We don't know where she was shot. She could bleed out and die right here."

"She won't. Trust me." Miles took Kitty's shoulders, Flora got her feet, the two very carefully moved her over to the bed. It was only a temporary solution until they figured out how to get her to the surgical tent. There was so much blood. Miles took a deep breath of copper and closed his eyes. Kitty never hurt a soul, the idea of her dying for trusting the wrong person was painfully evident. "Flora, I need you to go find Foley for me. Do not tell Tom unless he asks."

Flora nodded, her hands releasing the blood soaked sheet in her hand. When she moved, Miles resumed pressure, watching as she ran out of the tent. Moments (which seemed like an eternity) later, three men came through the doorway of the tent. On the heels of Colonel Roland was Captain Gillan and Corporal Foley.ย 

Miles lowered his gaze to the bed, knowing that if Thomas found out he was hiding this, he'd be the next on the list of murdered. "Did they catch him? The guy that did this?" Miles inquired. His hands were soaked with Kitty's blood by this point, he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the stains out of the crevices of his fingers. "Thomas, I didn't--"

Roland moved to the bedside, testing the stability of the mattress. He nodded to Foley and Thomas. "Keep the pressure on her wound. We're going to take her to surgery."

"She'll die before we get there..." Miles replied carefully, choosing his words with delicate precision. "She's lost so much blood already. If she makes it to surgery, she'll die as soon as you open her up to find the bullet."

A meek voice behind them startled Miles. "It...was a clean exit." She pointed to the blood on the back of Kitty's gown. "See? No bullet to find." She seemed rather proud of herself until the head nurse pulled her back from the scene. "Sorry, Matron. I'll let the men work."

Flora wasn't wrong. Neither was Miles. She never even made it to surgery. Miles guessed that she had expired somewhere between the two tents, before they even made it to the door to the gallery. The camp took it especially hard, but none harder than Thomas. After Kitty's passing, he'd become an alcoholic. They told him that he'd lose his medical license, Thomas knew what that meant -- he'd be dishonorably discharged, he'd lose the ability to practice, he'd lose his respect. He wasn't about to lose everything...not again.

In the early hours of the morning, Miles came to the tent that he shared with Thomas, only to find that he'd commit suicide. The man knew what drugs to take, what veins to cut, and which directions. It wasn't a surprise that he'd bled out in his cot, quietly passing in the night without any warning or indication that he was depressed. That week they buried two members of their camp, along with one enemy soldier that mysteriously died of a raging infection.
๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’

Sep 9th 2019 - 4:44 PM


BASIC
Full name (including first, middle, and last):ย 
Roger Jeremiah Wakefield MacKenzie

Nicknames:ย 
Rog, Historian, Dogface

Date of birth:ย 
January 4th, 1941

Age:ย 
Thirty-nine

Place of birth:ย 
Caol Loch Aillse, Inverness, Scotland

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
Height:ย 
6'

Weight:ย 
163

Build/body type:ย 
Athletic

Hair color:ย 
Brunette

Hair texture:ย 
Coarse

Eye color:ย 
Green

Eye shape:ย 
Hooded

Distinguishing facial features:ย 
None specified

Skin color:ย 
Beige

Race/ethnicity:ย 
Scottish

Scars:
A rather long one that sweeps along the throat, several others

Birthmarks:ย 
None specified

Physical handicaps:ย 
None specified

Type of clothes:ย 
Depending on the generation he's in, his clothes usually match that of the time period. A bit on the wealthy side, without being completely upper-class.

PERSONALITY
Myers-Briggs personality type:ย 
INFJ

Alignment test results:ย 
Lawful Good

Favorite (or overused) phrases:ย 
Jesus Christ, Christ, and other blasphemous things youย wouldn't usually here a Reverend utter.

Optimist or pessimist:ย 
Optimist

Describe their sense of humor:ย 
Roger has what one might call "gallowsย humor", meaning that he tends to find humor in bad situations.

How do they display affection?ย 
Often, and with as much enthusiasm as he can. With a lover, it's generally done in private -- unless it's to show that the woman is his.

How do they see themselves?ย 
Poorly, Roger's self image is skewed because of growing up essentially alone.

How are they seen by others? How do they want to be seen by others?ย 
Roger is very rarely seen as a dominant type. Most people see him as a puppy, which is part of why his name by the tribe was "dogface". Arguably, he'd like to be seen as a resilientย hero.

What would they change about themselves and why?
Roger is very introverted and would likely want to be extroverted, like his father. This also keeps him isolated in his own mind quite often, and he finds it difficult to confide in others.

Strongest character trait:
He's demonstrated as being very passionate and determined. There isn't a single thing in this world that he wouldn't do for the ones that he loves. This likely stems from the lack of interaction as a child.

Weakest character trait:
As stated before, Roger is horrible at opening up and confiding in others. Most of his life is kept secret, mostly because his own childhood was a secret from him. Roger often knows things that he can't tell people until he's sure of their loyalty. This also leads to problems and tumultuous relationships with others.

Are they competitive?
Only where a lover is concerned.

Do they rush to conclusions?
One good thing that's been demonstrated is that Roger is very adept at formulating conclusions based on fact. Even after being brutally assaulted by Jamie, he went with him after the rescue attempt, because Roger knew he could trust him -- despite all of that.

Do they make quick decisions and act on them? Do they take time out to think aboutย actions and consequences?
Roger is very keen at making a knee-jerk decision on the fly. Usually the consequencesย are well thought out after the fact. This was proudly on display when he attempted to run away from the Mohawk that had him held captive, and he later turned back because -- as he says -- I'm an idiot.

How do they react to praise? To criticism?
He's not used to being praised...when he is, it's usually with a swell of pride of doing well. He takes all criticism to heart, and often dwells on it until it's improved.

What is their greatest fear?
Losing the one he loves.

What are their biggest secrets?
Roger, as a historian that not only knows all of Scotland's history, alongside the MacKenzie family timeline, knows quite a bit about Jamie and Claire that he can't tell anyone for fear of disrupting the timeline.

What is their philosophy of life?
Live well, love passionately, laugh often.

When was the last time they cried?
When Amanda was born -- if not for the defect that nearly cost her her life.

Do they cry openly/in front of others?
Not often, it's generally only close family (Jamie, Claire, Bree, etc.).

What haunts them?
Nearly dying by being hung. It's a thought that plagues him, since he often wonders if he should have died.

What will they stand up for?
Injustice. He has a strong propensity to defend women.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Night owl or morning lark?
Although he's a rugged looking man, Roger's element is indoors. He's quite adept at exploring national landmarks and old dusty attics, but he belongs in a library. That said, he was a day person until the hanging, which kept him up during the night.

What sense do they most rely on?
The sense of sight.

How do they treat others?
Because of his belief system, he often finds the good in people, even if there isn't good to be found. He has a tendency to keep new friends close to the cuff until he's determined what they might do. He has the ability to assimilate to most situations, befriending enemies, and turning on family for brief periods of time. With a lover, he's tender and delicate unless asked otherwise.

What quality do they most value in a friend?
Loyalty. It's a hugeย factor for the MacKenzie clan.

What do they consider an overrated virtue?
Patience. Roger rarely shows mercy to those who cross him.

What are their views on religion? Politics? Sex?
Having been raised in a Presbyterian home, adopted by the good Reverend Wakefield, he does have a rather strong belief system. Roger believes that there is a God, and some days -- that God is not on his side. He isn't keen on politics, but he follows along with it because of Jamie. We won't touch the topic of sex.

Under what circumstances would they be able to kill someone?
During times of war, or if extremely angry. So far, in the show, he hasn't been shown to kill anyone. Brianna even keeps him from murdering Stephen Bonnet because of his upcoming pledge to become a minister. In fact, Brianna is the one who kills Bonnet, out of mercy, so that Roger's hands remain clean in the eyes of the Lord. Roger can, and will, if necessary -- but only for Brianna or his children.

Do they prefer routine or spontaneity?
Routine is best, but when it comes to romance, spontaneity is key.

Describe their pet peeves:
Dog earing books or not putting them back where they came from.

What is their view of freedom? What is freedom?
Freedom is Fraser's Ridge, with his family, surrounded by everything he loves.

When did they last lie and whatโ€™s their view of lying?
Although he has in the past, Roger tends to avoid lying, as it's blasphemous. And, considering he'd nearly died because of a liar, he tends to stray more towards the truth.

When did they last make a promise? Do they keep their promises?
His last promise was that he'd find Jeremiah, no matter what. As Brianna once quipped; "even if he's not there, Roger will die looking for him".

FRIENDS AND FAMILY
How big is their immediate family?
Too big.

Who is their family?
The entirety of the Fraser Clan and the MacKenzie Clan.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?
No siblings. Roger is an orphan.

Do they get along with the parents and siblings?
He didn't know his biological parents, but he did get along and listen to the Reverend.

How big is their extended family?
Half of Scotland...

Describe their parents.
Jeremiah was very much like Roger; resilient, tedious, faithful, knowledgeable, and outspoken. Marjorie, on the other hand, was the opposite; timid, shy, loyal, and vocal.

Describe their best friend.
At this point in time, he has no best friend, unless you consider Jamie or Ian.

Describe their attitude towards family.
He is highly devoted to his family. Having grown up without one, Roger knows how important family is. He would die, willingly, for anyone in Jamie's camp.

Describe their other friends.
. . .

Describe their acquaintances.
Roger's closest ally is Ian; the two literally spent a week traveling the coastline to find Brianna. Ian also traded his life to the Mohawk to free Roger.

What is their familyโ€™s history? Think back several generations.
Jeremiah and Marjorie were said to have died in a car crash over the river Thames. It was later revealed that his father had mistakenly flown through a portal and crashed in the 1700's. He was found by William Buckleigh Mackenzie, whom was the son of Geillis Duncan and Dougal MacKenzie. This is Roger's grandfather six times over. Not much of Roger's actualย history is known, since most of it was kept well hidden.

Do they have pets?
Rollo and Adso live at the camp, but neither are considered his pets.

DAILY LIFE
Describe their house.
In the 1700's he lives in a rather small log cabin that was built on the premiseย of Fraser'sย Ridge, just down the mountain, actually.ย  In the modern period, he lives in a historical home where his predecessors hid during the wars. The house belonged to Reverend Wakefield, and was later passed on to Roger after his passing.

Are they a minimalist or is their house cluttered?
As much as Brianna hates it; their home is cluttered with artifacts and books.

What are their eating habits?
When he remembers to.

Are they allergic to anything?
Not that's been specified.

What is the first thing they do in the morning?
Generally check on the kids and then go to tend to the animals.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon?
Attend church; or preach his own sermons for Fraser's Ridge.

What do they do on a Friday night?
That's not really significant in the 1700's, or even the present time...so, nothing?

Describe their diet:
Whatever Claire makes them or he and Jamie hunts up.

Describe their workout routine:
Working on a farm and building houses.

PAST AND FUTURE

What was your character like as a child? As a teenager? As a young adult?
Roger is shown to be very timid and shy in all aspects of his life. It wasn't until Brianna that he really started to show personality.

What is their earliest memory?
His earliest memory was of an airplane that he got for Christmas from his father.

What is their best childhood memory?
Playing with Fiona in the gardens.

What is their worst childhood memory?
When his parents died.

What did they want to be when they grew up?
Formerly, he wanted to be a fighter pilot in the military, until his father died in the raids. He later switched his calling to being a minister.

Did they grow up rich or poor?
Relatively "okay". Middle ground.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?
Again, a middle ground. He was mostly raised by Fiona's mother, the Reverend's housekeeper.

Were they popular growing up?
No.

What is the most offensive thing they ever said?
He once asked why his father died, why couldn't it have been someone else.

What is the most offensive thing ever said to them?
"You don't look like the Reverend."

What is their greatest achievement?
Roger eventually grew up to be a professor at Oxford. It was probably the best thing he ever did (until he published his book).

Describe their first kiss and romance.
Complicated and messy.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?
He left Brianna in Wilmington without knowing what was going to happen next...

What is the best thing they did to someone they loved?
He nearly died for her, so...I guess the debt is repaid.

Who had a great influence on them? Who shaped them as a person?
The Reverend definitely had a huge impact on his life, seeing as he wouldn't have wanted to follow the religious path if it wasn't for his influence. Fiona probably kept him humble, though.

What are their plans for the future?
Finish and publish that book about Fraser's Ridge.

What advice would they give their younger self?
Nothing is set in stone.

What smells remind them of their childhood?
Hickory, tea leaves, honey, and sandalwood (plus dust, but we don't mention that).

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment?
When he discovered that there was a smallย possibility that Jeremiah wasn't his.

What past act are they most ashamed of? Most proud of?
Leaving Brianna in Wilmington.

Has anyone ever saved their life? Have they ever saved someone elseโ€™s life?
Jamie has saved his life on multipleย occasions. Claire is why he's alive now, because her quick thinking kept him breathing long enough to recover. He's saved many lives.

LOVE
Do they believe in love at first sight?
Absolutely. Brianna was an example of this.

Are they in a relationship?
(This is a matter of contention. In the show and the books, yes. I write the character as if Brianna is gone...so currently, no.)

How do they behave in relationships?
Roger is devoted and loyal to his lovers. He will go to the ends of the earth to make them happy.

Is your character a virgin?
No.

When did you character last have sex?
Whenever Amanda was conceived.

What sort of sex do they have?
The tame kind, because in 1700, there's not a lot you can do in terms of "kink" without getting the plague.

Has your character ever been in love?
Yes...with his wife.

Have they ever broken someoneโ€™s heart?
Well, he says he has.

Have they ever had their heart broken?
Many times. Especially when Brianna rejected him the first time.

What do they look for in a potential lover or partner?
Loyalty, faith, hope.

Do they have their own family? How old are their children?
Yes. Jeremiah is four, Amanda is a year old.

What are their views on marriage?
Marriage is a sacred vow and must be approached and treated as such. He would never cheat.

RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHERS
Do they trust other people to protect them? Why? Why?
Yes. That's the whole point of the Fraser/MacKenzie clan.

Who do they trust the most?
As much as it pains him to say it, Jamie.

Who do they love the most?
Brianna, Jeremiah, Amanda.

Who do they hate the most? Who do they despise?
Stephen Bonnet...and later, that nice young gentleman that had him hung.

Do they tend to take on leadership roles in group situations?
Sometimes, yes. It depends on if it's something inside of his skill range. He has been known to lead his own group of fighters.

Do they like being around large groups of people? Why or why not?
Roger is used to performing in front of a crowd.


WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES
Describe their current job:
In the present day, he's a professor of History at Oxford university. In the 1700's, he's a minister.

Do they like or dislike their job?
He loves both jobs.

Describe their hobbies:
Roger loves to collect historical items of importance to the MacKenzie and Fraser family. He is not fond of organizing his notes.

FAVORITES
List their favorites of each: color; food; animal; place; person; book:
Color: Green
Food: Haggis
Animal: Fox
Place: Inverness
Person: Brianna
Book: Gulliver's Travels

List their least favorites of each: color; food; animal; place; person; book
Color: Red
Food: Sweets
Animal: Bear
Place: Wilmington
Person: ...that should be obvious by now...
Book: None

What place would they love to visit?
Anywhere.

What is the most beautiful thing theyโ€™ve ever seen?
Brianna Ellen Randall Fraser MacKenzie.

What is their favorite song?
The False Bride

What is their favorite day of the week? Why?
Monday, it usually means work.

Do they have a favorite saying or proverb? What is it?
Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.
๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’

Sep 8th 2019 - 8:43 PM


If he were being honest with himself, the idea of being in a room with Brianna Ellen Randall was not something he entertained very often. Even in the letters from Frank, where he'd often gush about his child, he'd never thought that a death would be what brought them together. He had hoped it would be a mutual love of history, or the idea of learning more about her past; and in a way, that's exactly what he got from her. Still, Roger knew quite a bit that he wasn't keen on letting onto. Something about the way his eyes shined when she mentioned her father -- surely it would be a dead giveaway.

Frank had been as much entranced by the research as Reverendย Wakefield was. It was no family secret that the two of them had been in constant communication to try and figure out the merits of the nonsense story Claire had spouted off upon her arrival back in this world. Roger thought it all to be a bit wonky, things didn't quite make sense, but the good Reverend always found a bit of truth to it. Maybe that's why he was here, fantasizing about the idea with her.

"Aye, there's a theory, tha' people who tell more than they should are lying. But your mathair is a unique case for me 'cos my father saw through her. He'd known her before she went missing, but he never saw her again after they moved to Boston. There's some irony in that, I'm sure..." He lowered his gaze down to the basket of chips and took one of the fries popping it into his mouth with nothing on it. He'd always been more of a ketchup person, but he wanted to try it her way first. "Beyond that, if she truly was mad, then why is her theory backed up in texts she's never laid eyes on? The Inverness library has texts from the 1700's, listingย names and locations...and there's absolutely no way she could have memorized all that."

Roger took a napkin and dumped a bit of ketchup onto it, dipping his fries into it. "Honestly, as nonsensical as it sounds, it's no worse than being obsessed with history itself. She isn't hurting anyone by being enveloped in her own little world, and if she knocks herself unconscious trying to go through a stone -- maybe it's what she needs to set everything right."

He turned to the screen where he heard cheering; glad to see his team winning. IT wasn't uncommon for them to take home the trophy, but sometimes he was wrong. And he wondered absently if he was wrong about Claire's story, too. "She told me the night you arrived here that she knew the MacKenzie's. The Reverend adopted me after my parents died in WWII. I know for a fact that Revererend Wakefield never told anyone my mother and father's names, so when I mentioned that their names were Jeremiah and Marjorie, se didn't seem at all surprised. It was when she told me that my family lineage was traced back to Dougal MacKenzie that I found myself quite perplexed."

He ate another fry and lowered his voice. "At first, I thought she was tossing out traditional Scottish names...MacKenzie is a common name, after all. But then I discovered that Dougal MacKenzie was part of Jamie Fraser's clan. He was a war chieftain of the MacKenzie clan. Dougal died during the battle of Culloden. He was killed by a James Fraser." Roger knew how all of it muse have sounded like nonsense when he spoke of it. He also knew that giving her that much information had to make her wonder if he was mad. Perhaps he should have been introduced to an asylum as well. "My father spoke extensively of James Fraser at the behest of your father. It's a bit of a coincidence that the two came up...that Dougal was part of that clan, no less. The textbooks don't say how he died, only that he was betrayed by one of his clansman. Your mother said it was James. When I read back through the books and family history, I discovered that James Fraser also went by James MacKenzie. Furthermore, her story about Dougal having an illegitimateย child was also confirmed. These are all things that aren't available in public records...but they're part of the MacKenzieย family history that my father had been compiling."

He finished his fries and lowered his hands to the table. "Claire knows things that she shouldn't. I know that part of me believes it isn't real, but the other part of me wonders how much she actually knew. She has information that isn't available publicly...and I know she wasn't around my father enough to have memorized every text -- especiallyย because he'd kept it all in boxes in storage." Green eyes studied hers for a long time, looking for answers he would likely never find. "You said you were a historian, but you didn't like war history -- why not look into your genealogy?"
๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’

Mar 1st 2019 - 12:17 AM


The night was dark, heavy, consuming; he could feel it all around him, dragging him down into a salty abyss of which he couldn't find escape from. He screamed, nobody heard him...like his voice was gone. Was it? He screamed again, but nobody came. Hands grasped onto the one thing he could find to bring himself comfort, but alas, nothing would ease that feeling of choking to death. He fought against that feeling of being pulled under, focused on the things that brought him life, tried to find a reason to hold fast. Still, that darkness was relentless...and before he knew it, he was pulled under.

Roger awoke in a cold sweat, sitting upright in the bed. Bree was still peacefully beside him, unaware, unfaltering and uncaring to his precarious situation. She was so used to Jemmy kicking her in her sleep that she probably didn't think twice when he tried to reach out for something to hold onto. There was a perfect kind of stillness in the air, the kind of summer heat that was not too sweltering and not too cold, like sticking a foot out from under a blanket when it was too hot. His gaze was on his wife, curled perfectly in the bed, her hands resting under her cheek to cradle her features.ย God, she was too good for him.ย  And what was he?

A monster.

He took a sharp breath, something he'd taken for granted but hadn't really grown occustumed to again. After Claire had removed the Tracheostomy from the botched hang-job, he was sure that he'd never breathe on his own again; never speak, never sing, never say his son's name...Bree. How much wasย sheย suffering but didn't show it? His hand reached up to gently touch the scar. There were deep inset ridges where the rope had damn-near succeeded in strangling the life out of him; smaller little marks that barely broke skin where it splintered off like lighting bolts...those were the spots where the rope was still not worn properly. His fingers pressed into the scar until he was forced to suck in another breath.

Claire kept telling him that Jemmy was young yet, he wouldn't notice the scars on his father's throat, he wouldn't know why his father carried such sadness with him, or the fact that he'd shaken hands with death and told him he wasn't ready yet. Jemmy wouldn't see those marks or ask questions...she'd prepared him when he came from surgery, telling him that everything would be fine. But Jemmy asked questions...and everything wasn't fine. He'd survived, but so much of him had been lost in the process.

Jemmy wouldn't look at him anymore without that tilted expression of confusion, and Bree barely grazed his throat while shaving him when his hands were unsteady. He always had this unruly patch under his jaw where she just hesitated to get too close for fear of bringing back traumatic memories. Thingsย hadย changed, and they were treating him as if he wasn't human anymore. The fact remained that he was human, and he'd suffered a great deal for reasons beyond his own comprehension. Reasons he'd get revenge for if he had his way about it.

His fingers traced the scar from one end to the other, his fingertips lightly brushing over the stitches where the emergency Tracheostomy had been at one time. Who knew that a short little tube like a straw would be what stood between him and certain death? His hand dropped to his side and he looked into the mirror. He was a monster, and he had no way to convey those feelings to his family besides pen and paper -- which he was never in short supply of.

He decided to let Bree sleep a bit longer before she'd have to get up and do her daily routine. Opening the animal-hide curtain, he pressed a hand to his temple before dipping his quill into the ink and writing a short letter. Bree had a diary, he had what was called aย burn book, but not like those really stupid ones from movies -- his was a diary as well, but everything in it got destroyed. He wrote on the pages every night until he would run out of ink and have to wait for a new shipment. But today, today he was writing on one page of parchment.

Dear God,
What did I do to deserve this? Wouldn't it have been easier to let me die back there? I have served you faithfully and dutifully since childhood, and now you punish me for such? Is this my penance for defying the laws of time? I beg of you, if you must punish me further, then please take everything from me. But for all that is living, do not hurt my family.

I will continue to serve you as I have in the past, for only you know where this needle will land on my compass. But if I must die, I request it be a quick death...suffering is a heroes demise, and I am no hero.

-Roger

There was a moment where he considered folding it up and tucking it neatly in his desk drawer to remind him of what he'd endured, but instead he balled it up in his hand and held it over top of the lantern. From the corner of his eye, he could see a small body stirring beside his mother, fingers rubbing groggily at his eyes. Within a few short seconds, the child was crying. He wanted to sayย hey kiddo, it's okay, da's here, but his voice betrayed him and nothing came out but a gasp of air. With a frown, he reached down to pick up Jemmy into his arms, cradling the young child to his side.

He brushed the young child's unruly locks out of his eyes and kissed his head, but the crying didn't cease. Of course not, Roger used to sing him to sleep, and he couldn't do that anymore. Whenever Jeremiah was sad, Roger would think back to those old hymns that the Father would sing to him, singing them to the infant to help him sleep. But now Jemmy was a toddler, he rarely had bad dreams in the night. Roger hadn't had to fight those demons in some time and it was painfully evident.

He took a sharp breath and closed his eyes, rocking Jemmy in his arms, humming -- though painfully -- an old song from his childhood. It was sharp at points, picked up notes in others, and missed a few notes -- in fact, it hurt Roger's soul as a singer. But it seemed to work on Jemmy in easing him back to slumber. He pressed a gentle kiss to his son's forehead and held him tight in his arms, resting against the chair with his eyes closed, his son's face pressed to his chest.

Dear God,
Thank you for sparing my life.
-Roger

Maybe some things didn't change after all -- a son still needed his father and a wife still needed her husband.
๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’

Jan 13th 2019 - 10:37 PM


Living with the good Reverend wasn't too awful, but it left for a lot of things to be desired. Naturally, Roger picked up his thirst for history from his uncle, and his lust for a family from the lack of ever having one. Being an orphan kept him fairly lonely; and while he had Fi around, it didn't seem to fill the void. So when Claire called and said she'd be coming to visit, naturally, Roger was inclined to make a good first impression -- which was easier said than done. Had he met Bree? He couldn't remember. His mind was hazy at this point in the game. He was certain they hadn't, since she'd never mentioned her before.

Claire mentioned bringing along her daughter, and he imagined a wild haired medium build woman with a graceful temperament. Then again, he also didn't know the age of said daughter, so maybe she'd be even smaller. His first inclination was that it must be Frank's child, she'd never spoken of one before leaving -- and she and Frank were rather enamored last he saw her. But then Frank contacted him about James Fraser; the Highlander from the 18oo's and the pieces began to fall into place. This wasn't a simple visit, this was a I hate to bother you, but I need some informationย kind of visit.

Fee welcomed the two into the house with a hug, gushing about Claire and how her grandmother would have loved to speak with her now. She talked about putting on a kettle of tea, and Roger nearly stumbled over her trying to move from the office. He introduced himself to Claire first -- just in case if she didn't recognize him now that he was older. It had been what, almost two decades since she'd been to visit? He spoke softly, almost shyly, sometimes too fast to be understood. His accent was thick with the dialect of the highlands.ย 

He couldn't help but notice that Bree was enamored by his father's books. How many of them were stories shared over a campfire at one time before meeting their end on paper? How many of them had been read to him as a child? He was hesitant while he spoke to Claire, unsure how much Bree knew, not wanting to startle her. When it became clear that Claire told her everything, he became a bit more open, but she still seemed so guarded. He'd mutter a joke here and there, a few facts on their tour, telling Bree everything he knew without overloading her with information. This was his home, and he was proud of it.

He was quietly in the study when Bree lurched over him with a piece of chocolate. Honestly, it tasted far different in the UK than it did in America, and he'd always be a firm believer of that. He took the small piece and popped it into his mouth, chewing a bit before swallowing. And then, the only bit of information he could think of popped from his lips. "Our national animal is the unicorn." He blushed a bright red and lowered his head into his hand. "No, wait! I can do better, that's not something you need to know, right? Uh..." Think, you bumbling idiot! "Scotland had its own monarch until 1603. After Elizabeth I died, James VI of Scotland also became James I of England, ruling both countries."

There you go, much more historically accurate! Idiot...
๐’Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘”๐’ป๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’

Jan 13th 2019 - 12:26 AM


"Your daughter tried tae run me off the road once." Roger admitted, matter of fact. His tone was succinct and to the point, but it was strangely the stifled laughter of Jamie that caused him to give pause. The comment was directed at Claire, who was rowing the garden for the spring. The two had a difficult time finding topics of conversation, and most seemed to circle back to Jamie and what had happened. Although Roger had come to terms with the fact that his father-in-law had brutally assaulted him over misinformation, it hadn't eased the tension on Fraser's Ridge. Still, the stifled laughter turned into full-on guffawing, causing Roger to hesitate his movements. "She did!"

"Bree? Meek an' quiet Bree? My Bree? Surely not!" Jamie continued laughing boisterously, then paused only to inquire on the next thought. "But how did she rin ye off ay th' road if you're in a carriage drawn by horses?"

Roger froze in place, realizing that Jamie wouldn't know what a car was. The logic was simple, but it was likely to be lost on the Scotsman who believed in the simplicity of his own little world. He looked to Claire for answers, but she continued to be blissfully unaware of the spat just beyond the fence posts of her garden. His hand shot to his forehead with an exasperated sigh. "We were in a car. It's a...horseless carriage. Hence the term car." Jamie gave no inclination that he understood, snickering behind his hand to hide his red cheeks. "It's -- it's real!"

"Jemmy calls them Vroom Vroom's. He also calls fire trucks;ย waterchoochoo's." Claire finally voiced from the garden, kneeling down to pull up weeds now. Jamie's snickering stopped, he moved to the fence to lean over and stare at her. "I'm wondering more along the lines of how she did it. Focused, tight lipped Roger, I don't see you being distracted that easily."

"Aye, you try not tae be distracted wi' a beautiful redhead in your lap." Roger finally answered, blushing a dark red. His mossy green eyes locked with Jamie's ocean blue ones, and a moment passed...then two. And before he knew it, Jamie was chasing after him. "T'was worth it, though!" Roger shouted from the other side of the cabin.

"To be fair, it was my idea," Bree added, basket of flowers in hand as she wandered by the two squabbling men. She knew that Jamie would never hurt Roger, especially knowing they were no wed. She also knew that Jamie had no intention of raising a hand to his son, not unless he ever caused grievous harm to someone in the family. The man's priorities were simplistic and barbaricย in that way. "And, he said almost."

"That almost is what might actually save his life," Claire remarked, standing to her feet and offering some herbs to Bree as she passed by. "Your father still thinks he has to defend your honor."

"It's cute seeing Roger make him mad and then run away. Kind of like a necklace that gets tangled in a jewelry box without ever being moved." Claire looked confused, so Bree emphasised her point. "You know, it seems like it's innocent and can't possibly be messed up, but somehow it gets that way after time. I think the older he gets, the more childish he is."

"Men age like whiskey, women age like fine wine." Claire commented, watching the two men running around the encampment with laughter. The two were not intending to harm one another, especially when Jamie leaned down to scoop up some snow and throw it at Roger. "I take that back. Men never grow up."

"Ack! I'm hit! I'm goin' down! Only a bonnie redhead can sa'e me now!" Dramatically falling to his knees, Jamie offered a hand to him. "I said a beautiful redhead."

"An' jus' wha' am I?" Jamie asked, incredulously.ย 

Roger looked up at his father in law with courage and determination. "Not th' kind of redheda 'at could distract me well enough an' run me off th' road!" He lit into a run while Jamie howled with laughter.
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