July 17, 2002cemetery club [kaj'sha-malcom-sian]**he idly sweeps his crypt with a hand broom, his guests should be here soon, his hideaway must look proper. He then creeps out of the masouleum his ears straining, listening for the movements of his guests** ((he's in Glabro form))
Guests arrive soon enough: Asher with his homicidal grin; Kaj'sha with his abstract sort of perfection. The former leads tonight, being the one who knows where it is; the latter, trailing slightly behind, walks with his hands in the pockets of his prep-school blazer. It fits him well. Looks good on him. Makes him look like an upstanding citizen, bound for the Ivy League.And that was exactly what the boy he'd taken it off of had been. Before Sian ripped his face off, at least. Kaj'sha had stopped her before she beat him into pulp with his own arm. She liked to do that. Kaj'sha usually didn't mind. But she was in Kaj'sha's room, and he'd just vacuumed.
He liked things to be...proper-looking, too.
there's a purpose to his step, not weaving through the maze like some riddle personified - for once, he does not waste time, lips purse a whistle (see ya space cowboy ) that rings out and bounces off granite headstones, hands tucked into the pockets of baggy jeans, shirting hanging open over belly (tickled) traced with fine scarsthe dopefiend's even showered
**the mechanical metalic click of a cocked handgun echo's off the headstones and musoleums of the cemetary, he steps out onto the path about 20ft ahead of Asher, his gun is held out point down, to his right.** "Goodevening. Welcome to my humble hideaway." he grins slightly, a slightly mad grin on his face
Kaj'sha has his head down at the moment, flicking mud off his shoes. Grinding his foot against a rock, he says, "Thank you for inviting us, Malcom." A last bit of mud is flicked away, splatting against a gravestone. Frances L. Bacon, beloved wife and mother.Ash and bones.
"Now then." Setting his foot down, tossing the twig aside, lacing his slim hands behind his back. "Why have you called us here?"
"I suppose Asher has told you some of what I've begun here?" he inquires politely, turning and motioning for them to followthe grin twists a smirk, mismatched eyes catching the glabro, pink tongue snaking out along his lip (invitation or mockery?) - though there is a strange silence, slipping into (his) place to follow Kaj'sha
Only an instant's pause, not so much hesitation as consideration, before the once-Silver Fang (how the mighty have fallen...) follows Malcom.
"I know of your kinfolk," he says. "I know of your dealings with the leeches. It is this latter which interests me at the moment. Tell me more."
"I have contacted two lesser leaders of the leeches. I will see what they want for services we might want. For example perhaps some of them might be used to capture our cousins."
The slightest of wry smiles. "You would send vampires against Garou? The risk to them is so great that I wonder what you will offer them in return.""Ah, but Vampires place much less value on the safty of one another than we place on each other. Also, they usually want one or another of their own killed without connection to the one who asked for the killing." he explains in a conversational voice, leading them towards a vine covered crypt, whipporwills sing somewhere in the darkness
a snide remark rises, he wants to comment about the effectiveness of one..... though it peters out into a rolling (roiling) chuckle, falling behind as he crouches to smooth and pack dirt over a small snakehole in the ground
A pause. "Perhaps you underestimate the leeches, Malcom. They often make that mistake for us, and for that, they often die. See that the same fate does not befall you. After all," and if he is mocking the Ragabash, it's hard to tell, "I do place much value in you."
"For now there is still negotations going on, nothing definate has been decided." he leads them around the musoleum to the door facing the woods.
he catches up with a loping jog, that same (hyena) laughter soft in his throat, and shoulders roll into a shrug at Kaj's maybe mockery
"I told him you were worthy...."
but worthy of what is a secret lost somewhere in the rhyme of a riddle
"Of course." Kaj'sha looks out the door, at the woods. Dusting off a section of the wall with his ubiquitous handkerchief, the slim youth leans one shoulder against it. Worthy... "Shall we cut to the chase, Malcom? Are you seeking to barter your way into the pack, and into a higher spot on the hierarchy than you otherwise might occupy?"
**sits down idly on the casket shoved against one wall like a sofa.** "I seek no rank higher than I deserve. But I will not be abused by anyone. I want my value clear from the begining." he says
body folds to a crouch by Kaj's feet, tremor hidden along his spine, talons picking at (hard enough to chip) the concrete slabs of floor - doing his best to ignore the open door behind him, knowing it's being looked out of, and pay attention to the conversation at hand
In profile, the fallen one is elegant, all high arching bones and lean supple lines. His jet-black eyes scan the tree line, and then turn back to Malcom. As young as he looks, the depth of his gaze is almost frightening, alien and penetrating. His do not seem like human eyes, or even Garou eyes. They do not seem like anything natural, and that is exactly what they are.Unnatural.
"Every packmate has great value to me. Everyone else has but a little. I do not abuse my packmates. I do not," a pause, "treat them like servants, as you put it. But I allow my packmates to do as they please, to sort out a hierarchy amongst themselves.
"What Asher or Sian, or even Sickboy does to you, short of killing you, will be no more my concern if you were a packmate as it is now, when you are not."
"I can agree with that." he says quietly his voice quiet
"Can you?" The voids that are his eyes search the shape of Malcom's skull. "Can you agree to this, then? All that you own or will ever own will belong to the pack. Including those kinfolk."
"I can agree that they will serve the pack through me. But I will not see my work wasted by sharing them in such a way that they become irrepairably damage."
Kaj'sha is quiet a moment. Then, turning, "What say you, Asher?"
he does not have to look up to know the voided eyes look away, body twisting to grip the bronze door and slide it (heavily) closed...... mismatched eyes lifting to look at first to Kaj, then study Mal - the lighter orb almost glowing in the new level of darkness
"Perhaps you should ask if Sian forgives him the wire 'round her throat....."
it's more than clear if he is allowed near the Fang kin, irreparable damage is only the beginning of a long list
"Should she...... then I would see no harm in accepting another like-mind to the fold."
but is it worth all the effort if she will tear him to pieces the first night
"I have met peacefully with Sian since that incident. I've known Sian for some time and I think she and I are reconciled." he says quietly
A nod to his packmate, and then the black-irised orbs are upon Malcom again. "That will be for Sian to say. If she has indeed forgiven the incident, then I ask only one more thing."Keep the Get whelp for yourself if you like. As long as she is there for our use if we need her, I do not care. But the Fang kin will serve the pack through me.
"Rest assured your work will not be wasted. I am" (al-, you can almost hear it) "most gentle with those of my former family."
"Once I've finished my work with the fang kin, perhaps. But not until then. And then at my discression. As I said I wont have my work wasted." another smile "The work on the fang has just begun and will because of her nature require a much more careful hand. The work for both will probably take me months." he continues
The too-beautiful youth cocks his head. "This is not a democracy, Malcom," he says softly, coolly, "and nor are you in a rank to give me orders. Those are my terms."Then, his tone thaws a notch. "Fear not. You will be permitted to continue your work. I wish to observe from afar; perhaps speak to her once or again."
invisable hackles raise beneath the open shirt, talons scratching on the cement, doing his best to channel frustrations constructively - now is not the time for elsewise, it would be a failure (but the screams imagine from the Fang whelp's throat, such a thrilling song)
he grimices a slight growl escaping his throat. "This is a negotiation. I have asked for no special privledges. I havent asked for free right to claim any fetishes the others might have why should I be expected to share that which I have worked to claim." he asks politely
"Because," replies Kaj'sha, "we are a pack. There is no self in the Spiral's Heart. There is the pack, and there is the Father."
"I see. And does that mean I can claim the cloths of your back should I desire them Or perhaps a victim from the talon's of Sian? Or something of value to Asher? I have worked since before you three arrived in this city to get what I have in this city. I'm willing to share the gains I have made but I am unwilling to give away my assets. I dont see what is unreasonable about this." he says firmly
"Malcom," softly, solemnly, "were you my packmate, I would give you the clothes off my back, the meat from my kill, and the blood from my veins if you needed it. Were you my packmate, I would die for you, and so would every one of your packmates. If a single Fang kin is too much for you to offer as a token of your goodwill, I dare not assume you would do the same for me, and you will not join this pack."
"I expect to be trusted to do my work without interference. Were you my pack every thing I do would be towards the advancement of the pack. But I cant work should my tools be given away." he says quietly "This isnt just a matter of prizes and toys. "
"No," agrees Kaj'sha, "it is not. It is a matter of trust."An inhalation; the slim Philodox seems to draw himself straighter. "It seems we cannot come to an accord, Malcom. But let us not move in haste. I will consult with Sian; you, I hope, will reconsider, yourself. The moon is just past the half tonight. We shall meet again on the full."
he growls again obviously becomeing annoyed. "Trust I should trust someone who comes into my territory and then presumes to order me. I thought perhaps we could come to a mutally benifical accord. If not then you will all leave my territory."
that growl catches his attention like a cracked whip, slowly uncoiling from the crouch
"Your territory, Cliath?" - gently amused. Again, repeating, a statement this time: "Your territory."He glances at Asher, uncoiling like a viper. At Sian, appearing out of shadows. The devil never walks alone. "It's all right," some sort of assurance to his packmates, or perhaps to the Ragabash. "Gur'thek, the Spiral's Heart thanks you for your hospitality."
Then, to his packmates, "Let's go."
[Speak of the--]Devil.
Nightmare.
[....dream of a--]Quiet asiatic features watching the stone angles of the crypt from the distance. She has said little, in fact nothing at all. THAT is to be expected. Watching the gestures and movements --a single hand raising to her mouth as tongue clean red liquid from her finger-- but never QUITE joinging this little meeting. It is when they begin to exit announcing its ending does she finally burst forth from the tombstone she so lazily coiled apon the motion causing an collective shudder.
Bullet with butterly wings.
"My territory Kaj'sha. I was here first. I have been polite, even kind. But I wont be insulted twice in one month." he is now obviously more than annoyed
Half-turning already, Kaj'sha pauses, thinks a moment, shrugs fluidly. "There is plenty of territory for all of us, Malcom. Claim as much territory as you want. If we have a problem with it, we'll let you know. Good night."
Kaj'sha's smooth words do little to softed the ridge of long muscles in his back - he will only remove himself from the crypt in following his Alpha out, and they're all safely into the night
((Kaj left, took Asher with..... insert in here Sian and Malcom talking -heh- about what happened, then, suddenly there is a threat from Malcom towards the pack.... big fight))
somewhere in the rage and adrenaline of the situation and his squirming to get away, Sian's jaws lock on his throat, and Malcom gets pretty damaged, but the position of her jaws was glancing and he only loses a good chunk of skin - not immediately fatal, but could be by the night's end if he doesn't do somethign about it...... in the struggle, his aim isn't perfect - he was only trying to get her to back off anyway - and he blew out portions of her neck, again, not immediately fatal, but could be soon - the shock of the bullets hitting made her back off and instinctively pull to the side, giving him time to worm away and sprint to the car..... both bleeding, badly wounded, gonna need some major healing time..... but able to play again another daySo sayeth the lurking, suddenly STing, urge wyrm of mediation
As he slinks off she thinks of only one word [..coward.] Lowest of insults which graces her head second only to the thought of the fleeing wretch. One claw raises up to her neck as she shifts down her knees wobbling under her as blood streams between fingers.
the gunshots crack over his senses - jacknifing his body from where it crouched to wait for her, long legs fueling the sprint (she's alone) towards and through the graveyard, skin rippling to follow the scents of blood and rage - unsure of what he will find
Silent.
(...as a grave?)
[How fitting.]Her body doesn't ache so much as her pride, (...she had let him go.)So much at her gaze which STILL chases the distance where his parked car had hurried. The soundles growl that vibrates within her--
Failed.
the car speeding away is granted only a glance (coward... failure..... betrayer)
"Sian?!"
not that he expects an answer (though he hopes - there was no howl of victory) gravel spraying through the skidded stop to kneel before her (fallen goddess)actual worry in mismatched gaze, haltingly reaching to where her fingers dance over seeping wounds
She's fine. [Fallen Lordess] And looksto him in brief moment as if she might rip his own throat in substitute before turning away, The wound to her neck is already closing her blood straining her clothing in brilliant red whose edges dance marroon and brown. A short exhalation as her eyes fall from ASHER's, failure is not something she was used to.
a soft chuckle stems in his throat, fingers reaching, pulling bloody strand of hair between them
"You were planning on not sharing his kill with me?"
soft (playful) pout thickening his wordsMurder.
Nothing less is the gaze that seers past him buring again back into the distance of lost prey. She simmers in the thick weight of her silence, the corrosive edges of her thoughts seeing to sizzle against the air itself..
['Enemy-him.']
"Yeeesss."
crooned, the sound a blanket that wraps around her, prickling over her skin, dampening the sizzle of her anger
"But a useful one. He has something Kaj wants.... we may have to wait until next the moon rises heavy and full before our games resume again."
fingers dip, tracing the pink flesh still angry at its wounds (that's twice we've let you live, Malcom, after hurting one of us)
"I know you want him just as much as I do."
Words wash over her as sticky-stretching skin leans againt intruding fingers (..sweet pain.) the sounds cascading about her senses in easy familiarity. The whispered response is wrapped in the deadly purpose of her intent."Burn." [--here he cannot go home.]
leans, forehead resting against her temple, scents mixing as skin rubs in nod
"Help me break open the caskets, we'll fuel it with the corpses he sleeps with."
stretching from the crouch (I will help sooth his insult) to lead her back towards the mausoleum
She pours to stand following him toward the crypt, slanting eyes draggig about her even as she drags along. Her stride edging some NEW emotion, some odd sensation this lacking, this failure.
tresspassinguninvited now, within the crypt, mismatched eyes land and prey upon the casket pushed up against the wall as a couch, reaching to drag it to the center of the still (deadly quiet) room, talons sinking beneath the edge to wait for Sian's assitance, and pry the bolted bronze open (her agitation fueling his lust for revenge)
Her hands grip the edge of the coffin and muscles tense of instict, thier strength [..wolves travel in packs.] prying the lid from the casket as with a (...burst..) of fumes and dust is opened.
once more the body folds into a crouch, above the crumbling corpse, mismatched eyes half closing as low words senslessly mumble, fingertips resting on dry, stretched scalp as if guiding a strange pointer on a stranger ouijaboard..... coaxing tiny flames into consuming crisped fleshHer hand reaches in as well crunching dry bones into powder, unsatified addiction as she cgrabs the edge of the casket starting to tug it at nailed seams.
Mismatched eyes watch, wandering over her form (the veil of rising heat between them) as she rips the velvet interior from the molded, welded bronze, the stench of burning flesh an oily wash creeping over their faces, smoke dark staining the ceiling high above
"Move your fingers."
murmured command, and the lid slammed closed, suffocating the flames within, a heave sends the casket back against the wall where it belongswe know where you live
we know where you sleep
we know where your secrets laya warning, matters sealed like the casket until the moon rises full again.
He can feel the vibration of a growl as the deed completes itself (...too soon.) Eyes darkening as she advances toward the corner.those eyes raise, shoulders rolling in fluid shrug (Kaj'sha will be mad if we do more) turning to face her darkening approach
And for all that rage. (Kali the destroyer..) For that emotion that simply bleeds from ever pore, every nerve every cell--that single thought halts her. And she does indeed stop hover (..the distance between creation and destruction is a breath.)-ing there as if frozen in time.
fingers reach to break the ice, tracing over taught shoulders, the muscle banded beneath (Home) guiding her towards the doors (enough damage for tonight) and into the open air outside
They descend (spiral downwards..) the Crypts short stairs and move (into madness..) towards home.~El Fin.~
Posted by asher at July 17, 2002 12:00 AM
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