Description 

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A mother-like tone to her voice, she stands 5'6 with a straight posture. She has piercing ice-blue eyes that make her complexion look paler than normal, especially with her long dark black hair. She often scolds people for reckless behaviour and teases others for a comedic sense.

September 2nd 1892

"Come here!" Jackson screamed, the Spanish-English voice roaring through the corridors of the apartment complex that the walls could not muffle. A loud thud occurred as a woman with a petite stature, Hope Pisces, tripped over her dress in the might of panic. Jackson, a male who stood 6'5 with broad shoulders and slicked-back hair, towered over the petite pale-skinned woman; who he grabbed as if she weighed nothing.

The panicked gasp escaped Hope's lips as she squirmed and struggled, attempting for him to loosen the grip of his hands on her figure, barely managing to fight off the grasp as he guided them to the bedroom.

The bedroom was lavished with beautiful dark oak furniture embroidered with a hand-carved decal only a craftsman could so easily accomplish. On top of the vanity desk, an abundance of women's items lay alongside a hammer with handwrought nails.

The light blue eyes of the woman who frantically looked around her surroundings began to yell, "Please Jackson! It's not what it seems!" her southern London accent pleaded as she kicked her feet. Her gown was long enough to make it look as if she was floating.

Jackson's pure fit of rage as his breath and lick of his lips as if he was on a mission unsettled Hope all the more. Turning his attention to the distressed woman, he lazily placed her on the ground, gripping onto her shoulder causing her knees to buckle and go weak. "I've heard the stories." He spits at her, furious, "I know exactly what you're up to you little bitch!" Swiping her hand right across the pale cheek of the woman, causing her to hit the ground hard.

Disorientated, Hope looked around, almost seeing double as she began her attempts to crawl. The vision of suited pant legs directly in her vision with box kip boots. Jackson grabbed the glossy black locks of the woman, bringing her to her feet. Her cheek showed a red raw hand print that barely fit her face as she sobbed.

Before Hope could open her lips to plea, Jackson began to beat her down as if she was able to fend for herself. Causing the small figure to lie weak on the ground. Hope could barely breathe, finding the wind knocked directly from her and the thoughts that she was going to die that very day. Satisfied with her wheezing breath, she attempted to recover. Jackson crouched down to her. "Didn't I tell you, you will be caught mi amor? Didn't I tell you that if you continued this trickery, it was not going to end well? And you did not listen! You pushed me to this point, Hope!" As his fist smacked against his knee, disappointed words toned directly in her direction of the vulnerable woman.

The silence Hope provided along with responses of wheezing enraged Jackson more. Dragging the small figure to the vanity desk and holding out her right hand. "This time-" he collected one of the nails from the desk, "-you won't be heading anywhere unless I say so." His calm collected manner added more to the eeriness as Hope continued to fight for her life.

Jackson placed the sharp metal object in the middle of her hand, using his legs to keep the small frame held up. Knocking deeply with the hammer that once rested on the table, now found in his hands. The pierce of the skin was a wake-up call for Hope, managing to beckon a scream as he nailed her hand to the wooden desk. The flood of tears painted a glossy feature showing the overbearing pain that led her to shock, awkwardly keeping her bent on the ground with her hand now a part of the furniture. Jackson took a step back, taking in the sight of his art and finding himself in his calm state of mind. He scoops his hand to the side of his hair as if fixing it from a hard task and taking a deep breath in - almost as if it was casual to commit such a deed. He closes his eyes as the woman whimpers in fear, pain and survival as if it was a piece of music to his ears that no composer could ever achieve.

His boot twisted on the wooden floor, walking out of the bedroom before stopping. His voice pitched behind his shoulder as he casually spoke, "I will be back soon." Reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of finely made cigarettes, placing one in his mouth. "And when I do, you better give me a good Goddamn reason as to what the hell you are thinking mi amor."

To Hope, she could barely hear a word he yelled, a high-pitched tune deep in her ears as she could barely keep consciousness. The footsteps of her partner faded before hearing the front of the apartment close.

Her eyes managed to open. The room was lightened by the moon. She must've faded unconcious from what had happened, and no state of Jackson was to be heard or seen. To Hope's assumption, he was probably out with a 'Lady of the Night' as a way to spite the young doctor. The wake-up call was when a throbbing-like pain hissed through her hand, noticing she was trapped. Her legs attempted to find strength as she sat on the chair tucked under the vanity desk. Her now blackened eyes checked the state of her hands, encrusted with dry blood and a tone of blue-purple skin.

She needed to get out, and quick.

Taking a brief moment to collect herself, Jackson had left the hammer in the proximity of where the young doctor could collect it, but finding hard to grasp when merely out of her reach. With her foot, she used her entire length to get the hammer to fall to the ground and be collected. Desperate, she held the hammer upside down as her heart pounded heavily against her chest. The high-pitched noise became a regular song to her in a moment of stress. And then she placed the claw next to the nail, the slightest touch vibrating the nail caused immense pain. A soft cry escaped her lips as she gripped tightly onto the wooden handle.

Minutes almost felt like hours as she collected the courage. Gritting her teeth she began to yank in an upwards motion, the nail attempting to be stubborn and remain began to slowly move out of the desk. Enveloping the cries to prevent any unwanted attention, especially if Jackson was returning down the hall. The time it took for the nail to untangle from the wood, with one last pull, she ended up free. The nail impaled and lodged in her hand, fresh blood beginning to trickle down her hand as she grabbed the head, yanking it out quickly.

The 5'6 stature of Hope Pisces wobbled to her feet. Her pale figure and dark hair were coated in black and blue bruises, both fresh and new. Her first thought was to wear something warm before bagging what little clothes she could, money and her doctor's bag. The woman struggled but was determined to make it out with her livelihood and some means of living comfortably.

The floorboard creaked, causing Hope to spiral into a panic of paranoia. He was back. He had to be back, it was too dark and too long of a time for him to not be, especially with his over-zealous obsession with the woman he was courting.

Her.

The 28-year-old used her good hand to lift the window frame to the ladders, attempting her best to be slick in movement, as weak as she was. Hope grasped her belongings, lugging them over her feeble shoulders and climbing down the height of stairs. Her paranoia heightens her sense of awareness and surroundings. As she reached the bottom of the apartment complex, she loosened the ladder; throwing the heavy belongings on the ground below and climbing down.

The night was cold, which wasn't a normal night in Arzal. Typically the nights nipped the skin with a fresh feel, but things felt different. She couldn't tell if it was because of how weak she felt or if the night felt a lot more harsher in the season than it typically did. Nevertheless, she had to keep moving before she ended up in a casket.

Collecting her items, she would walk with a flimsy tired movement. She had to make her way to the boat docks, which regrettably was 20 miles away from the area where she lived. As she walked tirelessly, Jackson's rage repeated in her mind as a way to comprehend where she went wrong; she hadn't.

Jackson was a man built from paranoia and a line that expected women to follow a guideline; however Jackson's mentality led him to believe things occurred due to his mind lying and feeding him things that never existed in the first place, causing him to spiral and lash out at people that were considered close to him, or he overpowered in certain aspect. Through the short year of knowing and courting Hope, he built up an animosity against her from his thoughts. Jackson was convinced that Hope was going out, meeting other men and planning atrocities behind his back.

The insanity, he was inducing himself into, led to harming Hope in multiple ways. Causing her to master an art form with her makeup to veil the bruises he left behind so obviously. Finding it hard to leave someone so obsessed with her, she couldn't hinder the thought of an escape plan. The entirety of just winging it was almost like becoming a runaway child.

The tears that once lingered on Hope's face dried, leaking a stained mark of what once was. Her face was frosted from the night's cold. Her right hand lost feeling as she tracked and treaded her way to the docks. She hadn't looked back until she could hear the ocean waves closer and crashing against the shore of the town close by.

Looking back only echoed darkness and a trail of her footsteps in the muddy pathway, but no sense in leaving Jackson to find out where she had run. The track left her tiresome and skittish. Hope eventually found herself at the docks, desperation filled with illogical thoughts as she collected her coin bag, her dominant hand stiffened from the injury and cold weather.

A shipman from a crew was prepping the boat to leave the docks when he saw a small framed woman who dressed well for herself but looked like she was at the end of her life hobbling towards him. With concern, he approached making sure she wouldn't just drop. The rough sailor accent queried, "Y'all right love? Lookin' like yer on death's edge." Hope frailly whispered from her dry lips, which had begun turning blue, "Help." The sailorman took a brief moment, understanding the clarity of the situation as she shakily handed the coins of payment. The payment was big and clearly showed her bode-well to flee.

The sailormen, without a second thought, brought her to the boat making sure she was comfortable. The warmth of the fire brewing downstairs as the sailorman spoke to the captain of the ship. It wasn't until moments later that the captain came to where Hope was, wearing a simple outfit made from wool and a long full beard - about three times the age of Hope.

His old tired eyes looked her up and down, taking a moment to view the state of what she was in. He didn't need to figure out why, but the notice of a doctor's bag resting beside the bedding she was resting in spoke volumes. Whoever she was, he needed to keep her safe and it could potentially pay off.

Hope was out of it for a long while, undergoing a flu-like symptom from the injuries she sustained and a weak immune system that was beaten out of her. The sailors, the ones that had daughters and wives at home, could only provide as much hospitality without making it worse on her health. Eventually, she woke up from the swaying of the ship, violent waves casting the wood to creak.

Her strength had returned, but her stomach felt stiff and churned with hunger. The last thing she remembered was warmth and safety with the fire roaring comfort. Hope made her way to a small eating area, noticing the degree of the ship was filled with a lot of cargo. In the corner, a couple of the workmen noticed the petite figure sheepishly finding her way around. One of the men nudged the man beside him softly in the arm and nodded in her direction, as he twisted his body, it was the Captain of the ship.

He approached her, a soft demeanour toned across his face. "I thought you weren't going to wake up little lass..." His eyes were concerned about the large bruise mark stained across her face, "I know no woman carrying that amount of coin and wearing garments the way you do, paid just for paying sake. What happened?" She looked down shamefully as if the situation she had been led to was entirely her fault. The painted guilt was obvious to the Captain too. "Don't tell me. I don't need to know. I just need to let you know, we're heading to a place called New Alexandria. It will take a few weeks to get there, and I understand this may be a shock to you, but take your coin back. We're not needing it for where we are going."

Hope blinked briefly, 'New Alexandria?' She thought to herself. The shock was there, but she couldn't comprehend the situation she was in, the circumstances she had led her to a whole new place she never heard of. Hope's priorities shifted, her home was now abandoned, and her clothing, the items she spent her career buying, were all to be gone. It was going to take some time to get used to, but it was better than being dead and leaving her belongings behind.

She spent her time becoming healthy once again, learning who she used to be and what she once was. Standing in a small mirror, Hope inspected the fading lines of a hand by a man she once loved. The beauty mark completes the long natural lashes and plump peach-coloured lips. Her hair grew back to a length she wished to have again after Jackson cut it short to prevent men from looking in her direction as much.

She took a deep airy breath inwards, the exhale felt euphoric.

November 5th 1897

Hooves grounded on the hardened dirt pathway created by many wagons and horses before the white Arabian, following the path in such an elegant form of trot. On it, rested a black leather saddle with bright silver iron stir-ups. Bestowed upon the steed rested Dr. Hope Pisces, prizing a more confident and free-flow expression with the reins wrapped around her leather gloves, keeping the harsh seasonal change away from her hands.

She was on her way to a town nearby, filled with individuals who were troubled with their health and in urgent care. Hope had remained on a task to keep as true to herself as she would to others, especially the incident that she experienced which landed her in the United States of New Alexandria.

Her goal was to at least share the knowledge she so eagerly fought for when her father, Chester Pisces, strove to show her in the library she once practically lived in. To Hope, her father was the most intelligent man she came across; as for her mother, she was the most selfless and biggest supporter when it came to Hope's future. Chester strove to allow his daughter to grow into not only a woman of intelligence but a woman who fought for what was right. As a proud man of his work, and knowing that he liked breaking limits, Hope was set out for what could be the future. Especially when women of their day and age were merely housewives.

Recalling the nights when her father read out the patient's documents, as if story books, only made the small child that was Hope intrigued and almost fantasising how things could be done better if they were even possible. Building her on expensive homeschooling, when Hope grew up, she was overly graduated to even be swept under the rug, so to say. However, as much as her intellect shone brightly, the university she had applied to attempted to slight her ability to become a doctor; and how women should remain in more simple aspects of jobs.

When called to a meeting, Hope remained dignified as she unleashed the arguments to the council running the school, explaining how her life brought her to the moment being stood in front of men who could not comprehend a threat, but to pretend it did not exist. As a way to challenge Hope's words, they allowed her to work at the university, which proved to them that her words were not just words, but of a determined new era she set out with herself and many other women around the country as a way to experiment if it was true or not. If a woman could be a doctor and not just a nurse.

From that point on, Hope, growing more older and mature, made sure that she included nurses to at least venture into an ability to be bigger and chase their better selves. In the United States of New Alexandria, this was an insane mindset to even occur, but it occurred.

Whilst travelling down the road, a small figure in the distance began to grow larger as the horse trotted along the dirt path. With it, was a man, lugging a small burlap sack on a stick and dirty-stained leather clothes, coated in what to be coal dust. His mutton chops shape a more characteristic style than most men in that specific workplace. He seemed to mind his own business as he walked in the same direction of the town.

As the white Arabian horse passed by, the man quickly muttered, as if to himself, "Have a nice day." Which caused Hope to pull the reins with slight hesitation after a few brief seconds. Did she hear correctly? Her mind followed a sudden flash of memories that slightly twisted her insides. It didn't knock her sick, but it made her feel... odd. She remembered the harsh weather, much like the day she was currently experiencing, trekking through wet mud through the night and having no one to tell her to 'Have a good day.' especially when she wasn't having such a good one, those short 5 years ago.

The man continued to linger past her stalled horse, collecting its breath as she watched him mind his merry way. His eyes didn't meet hers, as if he was himself, having a day one typically shouldn't go through. Though, times like those, it was typical for a man to go to work, come home and start all over again without a care in the world; so long they could aid their whiskey tab at a bar.

Hope's lips parted slightly, figuring what to say, before blurting out, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude... But did you say something?" The male figure stopped, turning a little with surprise as if no one had sparked a conversation with him in years. He almost tripped over his words, as if shocked that he was asked to repeat himself, "I said... have a good day?" Questioned by his tone of voice, he couldn't tell if the woman on the horseback was offended, concerned or angry at him for saying such an innocent thing.

For a moment, both individuals just remained looking at each other. Each one was caught off guard by the interaction that was occurring. Hope's soft eyes roamed across the man's face, noticing the dreary tired look and coal dust flared around his nostrils. The man mirrored the same reaction, looking at the raven-haired woman, dressed far too flamboyant and showing a higher class than one should around the parts she was travelling.

Hope spoke, her tone soft and curious, "What's your name?" The man's eyes looked around, as if trickery to the whole interaction he was experiencing; as if he was almost dreaming. "People call me Pike." Causing the doctor's brow to perk up slightly as she thought it was odd someone was being named after a fish who worked in a coal mine. "And where are you going? The town a few miles down the road?" Pike was skittish, the parts they were in typically led to highwaymen robbing or deviant women doing what they could to leave men, even women, with nothing.

Pike nodded briefly, words were caught up in his mouth as he remained attentive to his surroundings. "Let me help." Hope softly cooed at the man, noticing his paranoid-like state. The man looked at himself, the coal dust clearly would ruin her such nice garments. Hope quickly clarified, "It's fine. I can get it washed off. I'm not too worried about it." The man didn't take much convincing before he was helped up on the horse. It was his first time seating himself on a horse, which made him feel insecure instability. "Just hold on." Hope suggested as she allowed the horse to begin walking at a slow pace; gradually picking up the speed, but enough to keep him from slipping off.

"Can I ask why you're doing this?" Abruptly asked Pike, it could've come off hostile if Hope hadn't known any better, but she knew the man was more bewildered if anything. Hope cracked a rounded smile, she had her reasons, but the act of kindness was enough satisfaction to her. "Why not?" Pike was left speechless for a few minutes as the ride through the green fields left him to ponder questions.

"Do you have a horse?" Hope asked, not knowing if he was a man who did or not. She had an inch of knowing the answer but did not want to assume, just in case. Pike sighed, almost a sense of shame with how he released his breath, "No..." He replied, the voice seeming a little saddened, if not disappointed. "Do you know how to ride one?" She continued to pry, now having at least one answer to work with. Pike thought that the day of his he was experiencing was rather strange. To himself, he looked at it as if the new met stranger, was either a thief, insane or both. "I don't." He cut straight to the point, wary of the questions she asked so fluently. Pike swiftly cut to a question of his own, "I'm sorry, but why are you asking me these questions? What is going on?"

The town was now in sight of the two of them, as she slowly allowed the horse to grasp a respectful walking pace. "Well, Pike, have you ever heard of an act of kindness?" She didn't turn her head, keeping her eyes fixed on the road in case of an oncoming wagon that may be speeding past. Pike couldn't think of any of the words. She continued, "I know what it's like not to get the help you need, the help you want or the help that just comes around once in a blue moon. I know that some people are afraid of asking for help. I was one of those people. You remind me of my younger self, just..." She briefly stopped herself, preventing giving out any revealing information about her past. "I see you have a big heart. Not many people tell others to have a good day, especially in circumstances of clearly working in a coal mine." She stated, not as a jab, but more so acknowledgement. Pike seemed a little taken aback, the woman he only just met had a brief understanding of what kind of person he was without really knowing him at all.

His past lingered with intrusive and dark memories too, ones where he robbed others for coin just so he could survive. He wasn't proud of it, and his only way out of his predicament was working the mines, which barely paid for scraps, but at least it gave him a reason to get up in the morning; even if the coal that coated his lungs killed him.

Eventually, they arrived at the town, a wooden barn at least 15 feet tall towered over them with fresh paint of red and complimentary white on the borders. Pike dismounted the small yet muscular horse, Hope then followed, hitching the reins securely to a post as she turned around, now looking at him face to face. She could tell he was at least in his early 20s, his mild blue eyes said a lot without needing him to say anything to her at all. She could tell he was tired. "Well, nice to meet you Pike, I'm Dr. Hope Pisces." She extended a hand out graciously to shake his, not taking a moment to think twice about her action. He hesitated, paranoid of the coal he was coating her in. "It's not like I haven't dealt with blood before. Don't be shy." He took his large hand into hers, giving a respectful shake.

"So about that horse?" She smiled, Pike didn't think she was serious when she was asking all these questions. For a night in September, it did feel like it was Christmas. Pike stuttered, clearly caught off guard, "I didn't think you were serious... You don't have to do that. I'm fine, I can wal-" As her hand swiftly cut the area to cut him off, Hope chuckled, amused by how grateful and attempted prevention of providing such a small novelty that not many showed.

"At the end of the day, we are born with no money, we die with no money. At any point, it could happen to me. I have too much of the bloody stuff in the bank and not much to do with it." And of course, she was right. After Jackson, she had no means to continue finding others. The coin that she earned so easily with her job, didn't do much. Materialistic items were the least of her issues, or worries. "Stay here." She demanded, joking towards Pike.

Hope disappeared off into the town as Pike looked at the stable owner running a sale on horses. The owner had heard half the conversation, cackling at young Pike, "Seems like yer luck just came around today fella, and mine too!" Making it obvious about how he was going to get more money from the woman who explained she did not need it.

She returned, carrying a small little sack that clinked together in a melody-like tune. "Have you picked one yet?" She asked in curiosity, expecting him to browse the selection of horses for sale. Pike, befuddled by his day, shook his head. Taking a step back, she navigated and seemed to calculate a horse that would be good for his stature. Hope went to the stable owner, directing her attention to an American Saddlebred and a selection of equipment for Pike to ride comfortably on. Hope provided the money without any sort of negative connotation, a cheery look remaining on her face.

As she returned to the young man, he was left flabbergasted. He had just witnessed her pull out more than he made in 3 days. It almost broke his heart. Her head tilted slightly, noticing the expression veil over, "Here." As she handed the bag over, the familiar clinking noise echoed from the bag. When placed in Pike's hand, it almost weighed him down. His eyes open widely, he probably had more than a month's wage, if not more, in his hands.

"Malachi." He made a statement. Looking at Hope as his fingers curled around the bag tightly as if his life depended on it. "Is that what you want to name the horse?" Pike shook his head, "My name is Malachi Pike." Hope smiled, providing a look of relief. For the time she briefly met the individual, a lot spoke volumes to her. He reminded her so much of herself in a sense: cautious, grateful, weary and kind-hearted. Something someone needed for a job like hers. A doctor.

The stable owner brought out the horse, the coat glistened in the sun that beamed from the sky. It stood as tall as Hope was, if not more. Malachi took the reins in his hands, everything still surreal to him. To top off that feeling, Hope decided to throw one last surprise question at him, "Have you ever thought of a career change?" Whilst Malachi was absorbing the fact he had a horse in his name and possession, he almost fell over as his feet shuffled back, catching on a twig.

Malachi once again gave what started becoming a familiar look to Hope. Whilst their day seemed to shift slowly with the conversation that sparked on their first meet, the town on the other hand continued around them as if nothing in the world shifted in the perspective unlike how they stumbled across each other. Malachi wiped his face, the coal dust mixing with the old sweat causing an almost paint-like smear on his skin. He didn't have to think twice when she offered, he almost laughed in disbelief and happiness, "Yes, I would love to."

For once the man felt a weight lift from his shoulders almost as if he had eaten a full 5-course meal. He felt rich in the feeling of relief as his life turned a new leaf. The man was overjoyed that tears attempted to fill his ears, the luck finally hitting his person as he petted his new horse. Hope unhitched her horse, allowing all the emotions the young man was feeling to set in as she handed the reins to the stable owner to shelter the white Arabian. Before she set off, she subtly chimed, "You know where the doctor's office is, right?" Malachi nodded briefly. "Good, I'll see you tomorrow."

Twisting on her boot, almost like a graceful dance, she walked into the town. She stuck out like a sore thumb with her outfit, her coat velvet red with gold details, as British as one could get. Meanwhile, the town looked sunken, almost depressing, colour drained from the area with heavy wet mud, dark chipped away floorboards and windows that could barely keep inside the building without a piece of wood rotting out. She disappeared into the doctor's office, in preparation to begin her work there.

Present Life 

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Affiliations 

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British Medical Association - Active
Caduceus Cross (Founder) - Retired
Royal Knight Medical (Founder) - Retired
Ironwood Medical (Administrator) - Active

Quotes 

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Trivia 

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- Hope has owned her horse Sherlock since she was 18 years of age. He was originally a dressage horse but soon became a first-response horse. Sherlock has been retired since 1900.
- She has her ring finger (left hand) missing.
- Hope has been awarded a Bachelor in Medicine and Trauma Surgery (MBBS - Medicinae Baccalaureus Baccalaureus Chirurgiae) and St George's University of London Honorary Reward. Contains a deed which is a Medical Degree to Practice Medicines and Performance of Surgeries.
- Knows languages such as Swahali, French, Spanish and (her mother tongue) 'The Queens' English.