January 23, 2003.01.23.03. - on the road again - journey to the blue mountains pt 1 [pack] *fog[new jersey to kentucky, forums]
(rick/st)
Erik stands before the pack... The whole pack, for a change. Seems this 'problem' in Batso has their interest, and the Alpha can't disagree. They've even got a plan. A well thought out plan. Or close enough. But as they look to him for leadership, he has to tell them that they'll have to go without him. He's got things to do.Like?
Like guarding the territory! Who said that? Eh, doesn't matter.
So, good luck, and all that. Mick? Who's this Mick guy? Fianna, huh? Well, have fun then.
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Rune has made the arangements; her speciality and one of the reasons Eagle Pack runs so smoothly. Mick is to be picked up as a guide, and then it is pedal to the metal. It has been said that danger stalks the one you seek. The one, the -only- one with the answers to your questions, and you can all feel it.
You will have to drive into the Appalacians, to a small town called Swift River, and from there hike overland. A message was attempted to the nearby Caern, but it is not clear if it made it or not, so you may not be expected. Not that you have to go to the caern, as this songkeeper you seek is said to live alone, in a cabin on the mountain, of all things.
((Let the posting begin, and be kind to the ST who hasn't worked in the forums like this before.))
(Rune)
"Dire's coming?" It was an afterthought, a round-about glance at her companion (James) in the Beemer, complete with narrowed eyes and a contemptuous twist of her mouth. "We'll just have to have a talk before we go then." Her eyes snapped back to the road and her smirk took on a sour cast. They were silent, all the way to Batsto.It's early morning -- earlier in the morning than Rune has seen on this side of sleep, though she';s been known to stay up this late/early. That she's been known to do. It's early morning, sunlight slanting long across the frosty grass, when the Beemer pulls up in front of O'Leary's pub and a pair of Garou wander toward the shuttered building. It's early morning when she bangs on the door, three short, sharp knocks. Then nothing.
They've made arrangements: sent a message to the Caern, done a little bit of research, packed a cooler full of junk food for Luc to consume along the way. Rune downloaded a series of maps and had AAA put together a pair of trip-tychs, one for Decker, one for her, tracing their route alllll the way down the coast. There's something very, very strange about it, something surreal, something absurd, and just thinking about it (Decker, Luc, Dire, Mick and -- maybe -- Zoe in one damn truck? Oh, funny. Thank Gaia she gets to drive with James in the Beemer.) makes her smirk again, amused.
There's a stray glance -- at the sky, at the level of the sun, at the horizon, at her companion's familiar profile, and then, finally, at the display panel of her cell phone. Decker's due to meet them here in a half-hour. When the door opens, Rune lifts her chin and smirks in greeting " 'sup."- a habit picked up from her packmates.
"Most of the pack's going. We're meeting in a half-hour here and heading down. Figure we'll drive through, switch drivers when we get tired, catnap in the cars. Wonder if Decker put the camper top on the Tacoma." Shrug. "It's gonna be a long drive, Mick." Dark eyes slide across the bar toward Zoe, settle there, quiet, still. "I know I asked you to go, Zoe, or at least to be ready to go," the Glass Walker begins, mobile mouth settling into a careless line. "But I'm a little concerned that you would be in the way." That was putting it bluntly, wasn't it? "And in danger. And it could be, you'd be of more use here. If there's more that needs to get done, if you see anymore visions." The faintest of shrugs, and the Glass Walker's eyes flicker away. "You can stay at my place, if you want to. Livingston can look after ya." He can get you high. Imogen can get you drunk. S'probably what we'd do, too.
(Luc)
"Awww, she forgot the Dew!"
Cheez-doodle Breath.They hadn't even left New Jersey before the young Get has started chomping down on the junk food. And somewhere between beef jerky and cola, Luc digs into his notepad revealing (..much like a magician and his white rabbit.) his monthly collection of magazines.
His eyes moved from Mick, to Dire and finally settle on the back of Decker's head. Nonplussed he goes back to his pin-up of the month and lifts it against the ceiling of the truck... pondering how he could get it to stick.
"How long d'jou say this trip was again?"
(Zoe)
Rune's voice marks her place in the pub, and Zoe can so easily now track it. Sightless eyes (what.do.they.see) are on Rune, the staff she has taken to carrying beside her. She had heard the dream, and what she felt they meant."If you truly wish it Rune, but they told me I would know the Song Keeper when I met them. I've seen the place we must find, the woman we need to find. . . They have given me a task. I can't think letting your pack go to fill it in my place is what needs be done."
They had said her eyes were in blackness so she might see what scares others. They had told her to seek this one out, had shown her who it was to find. Telling the others was good, but it was her hands who were filled with the task. . it was her dreams that saw the death, the bloodshed, the torment. Does she look tired? Her faith in her purpose for this makes her stronger, but still. Her's is a gentle heart, a caring soul. . . knowing her failure could mean so much pain tears at her at times.
"I will leave it to you, Rune, because I can't honestly say I can take care of myself, as I am now. I only feel that I am supposed to make this journey too."
And with that she is silent, waiting, to see what it was the woman would decide. Its that calm acceptance that has marked her for much of this entire new situation.
(Mick)
"Yeah" Comes the very bland reply. Shaggy auburn hair falls too long against his shoulders, the front is pushed back in irritation behind his ears. He smells of Jack Daniels and cigarettes, his voice reflects the same. Zoe is a guest, and Mick's father has seen to her quite well, cooking home made dinners and tending to her needs. Mick has been less cordial, and while she's endured her stay at the pub, he's been absent. Drunk, likely.Old man O'Leary sits in the bar nursing juice. Mick, barefoot and wearing jeans and lacking shoes, mumbles something that sounds like 'take a seat' as he heads back upstairs, coughing, to finished getting dressed.
(Decker)
"Trip? Short."And it is. Just a drive down to pick up Dire and his backpack from the cabin behind Eliza's, and then to the pub.
"Next leg's longer, though. Save some'a that beef jerky fer me. I like the peppered kind."
Slam goes the door of the Tacoma. The bed is sparsely loaded with their "luggage" - beaten up backpacks and a Xerox box full of munchies. Rune had the foresight to get a King-Cab, at least. Four doors, theoretically seats five. If, you know, #5 was the size of a jelly bean.
The thug tugs his lowslung denims up a notch, then lets his Raiders jacket fall down over it as he moves up to the gathered in front of Mick's pub. With him, Dire and Luc. His grey eyes pass skeptically over the kin Zoe, but he keeps his silence and glances at the sky before crunching across the fresh snow to nod up at Rune. The Beta. Shotcaller on this jaunt.
" 'Sup, Rune."
(james)
"Yea. Peachy, hm?"that's about all he's said on the subject, he knows well enough to leave that firm set of mouth and narrowed eyes alone, while he may not hold the Skald in the fondest of regards, he knows he's a good fighter, and wouldn't mind being on the same side of that ability rather than at the receiving end (again), and if there's one thing the Gnawer is good at, it's accepting what comes up as it comes up, he'll just make sure to call shotgun on the Z3 for every leg of the trip, even if he's sure that Rune wouldn't allow Dire near her baby Beemer anyway
stuffed in the trunk is his Alice pack, almost everything he owns and everything that's useful, pared down to minimal weight and bulk, save the rebar sticks, which are tucked in the small space behind the headrests, while the convertible top is up, the dark gray banadana is cinched tight over jungle-vine dreads, and he even picked up a pair of (cheap) sunglasses to cut down on the asphalt glare which will accompany them through most of the day-drive
at some point between the stop at Burger King for breakfast and the arrival in Batsto, he pulled a CD out of the thick case she cultivated and chose for the trip - since they were silent, The Clash took over
when she steps out and towards the pub, he's close to follow, long muscles through his back enjoying a stretch, pretty much silent through the rest of the conversations, his and Zoe's opinions of each other were made pretty clear the last time they met - but, as with Dire, if they can see a use for her then tuck her into the Tacoma, she should fit though the ride probably won't be the most pleasent
a quick nod up to his packmates, then he's settled comfortably on a barstool to wait until they leave again
(dire)
Dire’s ready when the Tacoma pulls up outside Eliza’s house. He and Carmen still lived out back in the tiny cabin. If No one’s come out there by the time he gets back from this though they are moving into the house. He doesn’t mind plywood walls over the holes. Hell he’d even work to fix them while he was at it.The Truck pulls up and Dire hops off the rail of the porch. Steel toed combat boots crunch in the snow as he crosses the lawn. Alice pack tossed into the bed of the truck. He nods to those there as he opens the back door and slips in behind Decker. Blinks at Luc and checks out the centerfold. Brows shoot up and he mutely offers the guy some bubble gum form one of the pockets of the too large leather jacket. He’s 6’3” so leg room is a bit of a problem but they go somewhat comfortably in the space that person number 5 would go. At least for now. If it got too crowded in here he’d go lupus and sleep in the bed along the way. Those that know him might notice his usual flannel shirt under the Leather has been traded for a somewhat shimmery black silk shirt. Probly won’t last much past the village but hey. He’s wearing it now.
The truly observant would notice a blue alien head sticking out of the Alice pack in the back of the truck. Yeah yeah yeah. Well THEY DON”T HAVE A PUP! Do THEY!?!? Carmen has sent Stitch along to take care of her new daddy and he dutifully took it with him. Just like he promised. Besides…. It had her scent on it… and he would miss her. Other than that he has a change of jeans. Two flannels. A few lighters. Blanket. Ya know. Just the basics needed. In the bottom of the bag there is a 100 foot coil of tightly bound repelling rope. They were going to the mountains. And were looking for bad guys so that meant they sure as hell would either need to climb up, down or worse yet…. Gag… go into caves and shit. He hates caves and shit. Along with the rope he’s gotten a few flashlights and enough batteries to fuel Bangcock for a week.
The young Get Skald rubs his hands together. Clad in the heavy sap gloves they are warm he’s just a bit fidgety. He’d snuck out of the cabin last night and used a new tape recorder to record about 20 songs for Carmen. For while he’s gone. Then slipped it in with her PJs when he took her to Jaels early in the morning. She’d have his songs to fall asleep to. Just a little something to aid her separation anxiety. Now his mind was on the things at hand. The mission and what not. Clinching a fist in the sap glove he looks over and watches the rather animated Luc. At least he’d have something to do along the way…. Until he flipped out from being in a confined space with them for too long and bit someone’s ear off.
Getting to the Pub he’s out of the Truck probly first. Looks around and stretches. Rotating his left shoulder he falls in with them. Remaining quiet for now. He knows this is somewhat a test and the young skald doesn’t wanna fuck it up.
(rune)
Here they all are.Rune opens the door to the pub and invites the three Fenrir within. The sharp line of her jaw is set, though her dark eyes are no longer narrowed. Once they are all assembled within, and ranged about the otherwise empty pub, she lifts herself up onto the bar, long legs swinging in faint rhythm, punctuated by the click of her heels against the bar at the end of the arc of each swing.
Introductions are the first order of business.
"If y'all don't know him, this is Mick. He's a Fianna Theurge, and he's familiar with the area to which we're going. Mick, this is the rest of my pack, and Dire, who wants in." That was clear. "You know James, that's Luc and Decker," gestures all around, "and that's Dire. I figure you're going to ride with them in the Tacoma, and y'all can finish up your introductions once you're on the road. Mick's going to be our guide, so when he tells you where you're going, pay attention to him."
There's a pause, and Rune grabs the bottle of Evian at her side, tossing her head back and downing a long swallow of the expensive water. "The minute we leave here - " her eyes narrow, and she focuses on Dire. " - the minute we fucking leave here, we're at war. If you disagree with one of my decisions, you tell me. Once. If you tell me twice, I'm going to drop everything and rip off your balls and stuff them down your throat." Her eyes flicker to Luc, then Mick before returning to Dire, once more. "And if they grow back, I'll keep doing it until your testicles are coming out your ears."
She shifts. Somewhere in the middle of the speech, her legs have stilled. She's leaning forward, now, focused and intent. "Zoe's coming with us. She'll know the Song Maker when we get there. You two - " fore and middle fingers scissor, pointing to Luc and Dire, " - are assigned to guard her when shit goes down. And if I say run, you run, and take her with you. And if shit goes down, Zoe, you do whatever the hell they say.
"And y'all don't give Zoe too much shit, either." Rune shoots Luc a narrow-eyed glance. At least the kin is blind, and won't see Luc drooling over Hustler. "We're driving straight through, we're not stopping except for food and bathroom breaks until we get there, so get sleep when you can and change drivers when necessary. I've got pills if you need 'em."
"That's it, for now. Decker's got maps. I've got maps. We're ready to go. Y'all have precisely fifteen minutes to winge, moan, complain, or take issue with anything I've said, and then I don't want to hear another word about it. Anyone doesn't like the terms can stay here. I'll even leave you cab fare so you can get home."
Speech over, Rune sliiiiiides off the bar and stands, leaning against it, waiting for assent or disagreement, ready to get on the road.
(decker)
Inside the pub, the Fenrir sweeps grey eyes over Mick and grunts. "We met."Madeleine. Bloody apartment. Bad circumstances. Wonder if the man ever got over her. Wouldn't blame him if he didn't.
After that, Decker slides onto a stool, leans over the bar to help himself a beer, and listens to most of it silently between pulls - which usually means he's hearing it. At a few things his brow furrows, but he keeps his mouth shut until the end.
Then - "You want two Fenrir Skalds to guard one kin?"
(Rune)
"Yeah." Rune's not smirking - there's no glitter in her eyes, no amused cant to her chin, no ironic lilt to her voice - but her painted red mouth is stretched into the mask of such an expression. "I want two Fenrir Skalds to guard one blind kin who is the only one of us who will recognize the Garou we're looking for. If it gets bad enough that they have to run, they'll probably run right into trouble. If they run into trouble, one of them can fight, and the other can keep running with her, and they still have a chance of getting the hell away and finding the Song Maker."Next question?"
(Zoe)
"I understand completely Rune. I've no arguments with what you have set down."This would be a long, interesting journey, to say the least. She's got her small pack, the one that had been with her for days now, having been pretty much living whereever since this began. Unlike many women, she travelled fairly light. A few hair ties for her braids, brush, some simple clothes. Her most valuable item? Herbs. There's sage packed carefully away in one sealed bag. A few others in lesser quantities. And tea. Can't trust what you find in most restaurants. Hand on her staff, she slides down from her stool. Rune's packmate would be here somewhere. She wanted to clear that up before they left. If only for her peace of mind, needed to complete that business.
"Rhya James?"
He had not spoken, but the room not so large. And she would make the assumption he was likely near Rune. Heading the short distance to the other woman. Slight, small, hair neatly braided in that crown braid wrapped atop her head. Luc couldn't possibly say anything about them this time. Well he could, but he would only be being spiteful or immature then. Oh the things Rhya had had to say of him. . .a little smile. Composing herself she knew Rune had introduced the group, had a general idea of where James was. Moving into the small group, she was only off by a marginal degreee from where ears and memroy would have placed James.
"Rhya James. Please pardon my intruding on you, but I wished to say this before we left. I was entirely out of line in what I said the other night. I had no right to even call such a thing into question, and I wished to extend my sincerest apologies."
There's no question she appears so very contrite. Positively ashamed at her own behavior that evening. Her anger was not something to loose on another. Stepping back a pace, if only so that should he wish to not respond she would not be invading his space, and if he did, she was still within easy conversation range.
This was all she had to do before they left. So she waited and listened.
(decker)
"Two. Fenrir. Skalds."Spoken through gritted teeth, this. The rest? Spoken through the mind-channel.
Fenrir ain't meant to guard kin 'n run away. Especially not when I seen one o' the Fenrir nail James to the ground with his own stick. Put the best fuckin' fighters up front, Rune. If ya gotta waste two fuckin' Garou guardin' a kin in the middle of a fuckin' quest, trade the Theurge fer Dire.
(Mick)
Quick steps hasten Mick's presence as he heads back down the stairs, just in time to hear the directions given by Rune. His hair is combed .... he's clean shaven. At least, for all appearances, he seems presentable.His eyes never truly dwell long enough on one person in the room, so there are no chance meetings of gazes. Mick nods to Decker, mumbles a hi and slips behind the bar to grab beer and soda for whomever wishes a drink.
There's a pea green oblong shaped sack near the door. "Pvt. O'Leary" is etched in stencil on the side of the army bag. A heavy coat is tossed on top of it.Mick doesn't reply, he listens, speaking only when spoken too.
(Dire)
He listens. He watches as he's singled out. Says nothing. Just slips his hands into his pockets. Then he's saddled with baby sitting duty. Looks over to Zoe and then back to Rune. Absently wonders why they would need the kin after they got to the point where the kin needed to be protected. Once to that point wouldn't the fight to destroy what evewr this big bad was be more important than one kin?He just listens in silence. Eyes the color of Glacier heart ice unflinching.
(Rune)
Two Fenrir Skalds."The Glass Walker's sharp-featured pale face is bland, and the curve of her mouth, well, that's almost a smile. Her packmates can feel the whiplash response of her rage, rising in tandem (though perhaps not as abruptly) as Decker's.
First point: this isn't about glory, Decker. It's not about how big your dick is, or how long you can wave it around. We're not running into a Wyrm pit to destroy everything. We're going to get something, and bring it back. If we die - no matter how fucking gloriously - we fail. If she dies, we fail. The whole fucking point is to survive and bring back the Song Maker, and goddamnit, someone's going to do that if I have anything to say about it.
Dark eyes have settled unerringly on Decker's face.
Point the second: Dire wants in this pack. He can learn to follow a woman's orders. He can learn to follow an urrah's orders. He can learn to follow my orders. If he wants a good old-fashioned Fenrir pack, by god, he can go out and find himself one
(Dire)
Smiling softly he nods to her"I like that color lipstick."
He looks to the others and back to Rune. Waiting for somone else to have questions. He knows his place. He might think it gross misuse of his skills but he'll do as he's told. Untill he can't.
(Decker)
The Fenrir's grey eyes are narrowed and unflinching, his hand deceptively still on the neck of his beer. The seconds tick by, and anyone can feel the rage thick as blood.A long pause.
You talk better'n me, Glass Walker. You think faster. But I'm gittin' fuckin' sick o' watchin' you give yer boyfriend preferential treatment.
Audible, then, and snarled - something of an agreement as he finally lowers his gaze.
"Two fuckin' Fenrir Skalds."Decker gets to his feet and heads for the door.
(Rune)
The Glass Walker snorts softly, the faint hiss of her exhalation audible in the rage-crackling air.That's fucking unworthy of you, Decker. Quiet. Rage. That's unworthy even of you.
Her narrowed eyes follow the Fenrir's progress as he storms out of the pub, then whip around to the rest of them, assembled there. Dire's comment about her lipstick brings only another belated snort, a dismissive gesture, and no thanks at all.
"I'm an Ahroun, Dire. I'm a warrior, and I've been one for ten fucking years." - in this patriarchal, dick-waving world. She doesn't say that part, though. She doesn't need to say it. Look at the pack she's leading on this mission: not another pair of breasts in sight except for the kinfolk's - "You don't need to compliment my goddamned lipstick. Quite frankly, it's rather patronizing."
There's a pause. Inhale. Exhale. Another drink of water. Another narrow-eyed survey of the group.
"Now, does anyone else have anything else to say, or can we get the hell out of here?"
...and then she waits.
(Dire)
Smialing faintly he turns and heads for ther truck as well. He's been given his assignment. He'd do it. Pausing he moves over to Zoe and gently touches her arm."Zoe.. Dire. For a while you'll be with me. If your ready. THe truck is this way."
No reaction to Rune's words. She'd been an Ahroun for ten years? Congradulations. He's ben a Get of Fenris for 19. come back in another decade and he'd be impressed with numbers. For now. He is just about doin' the job.
(Luc)
You sayin' I -can't- hold my own, Deck?"An' Me, Pip."
The stink of ciggarettes hangs over the gangly teenager. At sixteen (..going on 17) he was both the youngest and likely the tallest person on the group. As if in some freak human experiment, god had stretched what might be considered average proportions into beanpole wiry... and insane length.
Another growth spurt had left him With pants whose hems hung far above his ankles and shirts with rolled sleeves. Shaggy blonde head cock to the left abruptly allowing a short series of cracking noises. Cool-bright blue gaze settled on Dire even as he took Zoe's arm, a characteristic smirk edging an expression of dark amusement.
"Whoa. The dire dude." Toungue runs over teeth as his gaze remains steady. ".... feel like I know ya."
(james)
he's quiet through the lecture, Omega of the pack and he knows his place, he can feel the Rage rising, between his packmates, and he really keeps his place then, not a word, not a look, not a query in the leasthe figures she has her reasons for picking whom watches over whom, she sees the kin as important, so she's picked whom she thinks would be best for guarding her, obviously, for whatever reasons, it's not him, he doesn't take insult to it, Dire's a good fighter, bested him, and it's important she stays alive, maybe Luc can learn something, too, seems fair enough in his eyes
Decker didn't have to rub it in, but apparently that comes with the territory, it's not the first time the Fenrir has thrown something in his face, and it won't be the last, it just takes several throws before the mellow Ahroun actually fires something back
it's war, the minute they walk out that fuckin' door: it's war, sometimes, the better fighters become the last resort, when something has to be protected, and it's the rest of them that keep that last resort from having to be used until, of course, it's necessary - so that means he's on the front expendable line, and he can dig that
(Rhya) he keeps looking towards whom he considers Rhya, to be one step ahead and be ready for their answer (James)..... say what?
brows lift and his head swings around to look straight at Zoe, if she could see the disbelief in his eyes it would probably be fairly amusing, the..... shock.... of hearing his name and that word in the same phrase not once but twice is enough to distract him from the bristling between the other two Ahrouns, but he reaches to lightly touch her arm, so that she knows exactly where he is, so she can look at his eyes and not his shoulder, listening to her words just as closely as he listened to Rune's - and then he's quiet, as the seconds roll by, considering her words and the truth laying within them, just as the tension continues to rise behind him, tongue drawing over his lips before that lower lip ends up between his teeth
"Apology accepted, Zoe." there's a soft squeeze on her arm, then his bootseps that lead the Gnawer out towards the cars, Dire and Luc can take care of getting her out there
the Ahroun is just holding. his. tongue. backlash of Rage the only thing saying he heard
(decker)
Outside, Decker's waiting in the truck, staring straight ahead: fuming.This, to Rune: You accuse me o' bein' in this fuckin SHITHOLE war fer glory one more time, 'n you'll see just how unworthy I'll git.
The engine roars to life and he revs the engine. The message can't be more clear: get in. Let's go.
I ain't never seen you hold yer own, Luc. Not in the mood to soothe the Skald's offended teenage (nevermind that Decker was all of 19...) temper, the thought snarls back at him. You got the next coupla days to show me.
(dire)
Dire smiles over to Luc. Nods"Good to know my reputation proceeds me. How ya doin'?"
He waits till Zoe's ready and starts to lead her out. If she needs it. If not, hey, more the better. He's not pushy.
The tall lanky Get takes a moment. Looking back to Luc his voice, strangly accented, a little french but mostly something more exotic as he learned High Tongue as his primary language comes out in a melodic flow. Eyes the color of glacier heart ice flicker over.
"So what are your best things Luc? We're working together here and if your good at something I can focous else where. We work together and can back each other up so the others can do their own thing and not worry about us or Zoe here."
Tone pleasent. Normal. No untold insinuations or anything can be detected in his voice. Seems the young Get seriously wants to prove his own worth. Even if he's put in the rear.
Who knows. Mayby the ones in the front will fall off a cliff and need a rope. He's got rope. Mayby they will fall in a hole. He's got flashlights. Mayby some sneaky assed wyrmy will stole up on them from behind. He's got claws, a dedicated war hammer, Bubba: the badass Iron crowbar. Mayby they'd need to sing the beast to sleep. He's got songs.
He desides to try and look on the bright side of this thing. Mayby they'd just drive down. Pick up what they were looking for and drive back.
Pauses in his train of thought and relates himself to "Sam" From the Lord of the Rings Movies he'd seen. Mentally blinks a bit and puts that way in the back of his brain.
In the back of his mind he wonders where the guy is gonna sit on the way back......
(zoe)
So James accepted her apology. That made her feel better, should things go badly. She can hear them, at this close range, smell them. Luc's cigarette stench, and the mix of things that was Dire. She had her few things, and was more then capable of at least getting herself outside to the vehicles. Maybe a hand in, but she's not completely inept. She wasn't their warrior, their leader. . . she was their eyes, and if necessary, Gaia and the spirits had given her the ability to heal. Her little secret, since she rarely needed to use it, but there."Thank you, Dire, Luc. I'm not familiar with the vehicle we'll be in, but I can make it outside. I appreciate the offer though."
Pip. . . she may yet come to hate that nickname. Amusing for him, a reminder of a not completely pleasant day for her. Not so much Luc as another she has seen that night. Head looks to Luc, little rare amused smile in what was normally a more reserved face.
"Oh and Luc, I found a stick. Be nice."
Was that humor? She held back her tiny laugh. Probably wouldn't actually use it like that, but well, he could be one of the most infuriating things she had ever met. Her words show him her staff, ironwood, with leather grips. Was even learning to go from meditations to blind defense with it. Of course that takes time, and for now she was good at using it to check her path. Moving with them outside, as the truck revved. Seems someone wanted to go. She hoped she was ready.
Are you there Spirit? Please guide me to our salvation. Please never let me see that death from my dreams with true sight. Help me keep the Annunaki from winning.
(mick)
He felt their rage. Rage so thick it made the air nearly unbreathable permeated around the Fianna Theurge. It made his nostrils flare and his eyes shift slowly to each in the room .... catious and blank, the eyes of a man with nothing whatsoever to loose."Dad. Stay in, keep the bar closed until this is done"
Not until I get back but rather until this is done. The heavy coat is over one arm, the green duffel bag is hefted up and without a word to anyone, save those for his father, Mick heads out to the truck as it revs up (get.in.).
The tall thickly built man gets silently into the truck after shoving his belongings where they go.
(st)
In the car. On the road. Here we go.The road goes from black, to grey and back again, an endless ribbon upon which you travel. Good thing there's some scenery. The Poconoes. And if you thought the rage was think back in the bar, well, roll down the window and let some fresh air in, for Gaia's sake. Ahh, breathe it in, crisp and cool. ahh...
And let all the questions, challenges, and doubts out the window too. We're at War now, so leave it behind. Save it for later. Yeah. Riiight.
Then you hit I-80 and the boredom really sets in, and all you've got to look at are the Red Rock Hills out your window. Ten, twenty, hell, sometimes forty miles between exits, surrounded by schmoes in cars just like you, forced to go where the road goes. No option to get off the beaten path of the weaver. Oh look! Ohio! Yippie...
((Felt it worthwhile to have a day of... 'In the Car, On the Road' posting. Have at. And no questions about the route please. It will get you where you are going, and it is one I have driven myself. Good for inspiration. Oh,and remember that you are in two different cars. Eagle Pack will find that the totem phone has become much weaker between individuals in different cars.))
(rune)
The Fenrir may find the long ribbon of asphalt that some have - romantically - referred to as the open road oppressive and restricting, but the Glass Walker has precisely no desire to run free through the mountains and woods and, eh, whatever that in-betweenish stuff might be. And so with the road, the Weaver's highway, the lovely, blessed, civilized interstate with its craptastic little fast food joints snug up against the road and everything you could possibly ever want within spidering reach, she's happy enough once the swell of rage has crashed and burned itself out.For now.
Rune drives the little Beemer aggressively - particularly during the first leg of the trip, when she's still running high with rage. When the distance grows between the Tacoma and the little car and the connection between the packmates thins and lengthens, grows fine and gossamer, she slows and waits for the totem's connection to strengthen once again. It's not always easy, though, driving in tandem like this, and they are more than once separated by long stretches of road.
Lunch. Next rest area.
Her voice, thin through the mind-link, though of course that leaves the question of which rest area is next rather up in the air. Fortunately, they're rather far apart and so - even with whatever distance has built between them - they're more likely to stop at the same place rather than not.
The motley crew - Christ, what a motley crew - drives most of the patrons from the Sbarro inside. Rune stands there - wrapped in leather, sunglasses concealing her dark eyes, inky hair whipped and toussled by the brief gust of winter wind that buffeted her on the quick run into the little restaurant, lounging against the wall beside the counter, high heels tapping idly against the tiled floor, waiting for the rest of them to arrive.
The seven of them. Perhaps the clerks might believe that Dire, Luc and Decker could be friends, or even cousins. The rest of them? Not so much, though doubtless Rune and Zoe stand out as particularly sore thumbs. At least Rune comes close to matching the others' size, with the three inch heels that lift her to an inch over six feet in height.
Later:On the road again. I just can't wait to get on the road again. It seems my -
Somewhere in the middle of Pennslyvania: Trees. Trees. Look, ma. More. Trees. Lunch is long past. Rune needs a cigarette. James is asleep.
The CD (second listen) has ended, and in a desperate attempt to find something listenable without reaching over and fiddling with the CD cases while the little Beemer (grimy with roaddust only six hours out) is sandwiched between not one, not two, but - count 'em - three semis. One in front, one in back, and one to the left in the passing lane.
That's always when country music shows up - blaring - on the radio. They're driving straight into the afternoon sun, which always seems weak in the winter, but which glares off the windshield and gleams off the finish and bloody well comes close to blinding one, even with sunglasses shielding the eyes.
Rune stabs the radio off, and drives in silence until James wakes up from his nap. "Your turn," she mutters, with a sidelong glance and a little smile that easily slides into a smirk. "I need my beauty sleep."
(zoe)
What does a blind woman do on a car trip? Well when you are wedged in a small backseat with two others, it does limit ones options. Its a bit hard for meditations, and well, you can only sleep so much, so its inevitable her mind drifts over the various things she has seen and heard in her dreams and visions of late. Searching for that one clue, that one piece she could possibly have missed, looking for the piece that could mean success versus failure. She was nothing if not determined inher goals. Eventually even this begins to dull and she is sure she's half dozing there, face fallen to the side where I-80 blazes past the window. Where she can see I-80 rushing past. . .Nothing odd with her sightless eyes watching a window. Perhaps she just wished to escape the silence of Mick, or somehow knowing that there was a view there, even if she shouldn't be able to see it comforted her. No, everything is normal. . . until the first tremor.
Gasp
Body stiffening. Dire can feel it. Mick can feel it. Decker and Luc can hear the sharp intake of breath. She's been so quiet on the ride its practically a shout, from her. Her hands going to cover ears. Something loud she heard. . . but there is only I-80 out there. Empty window where her face has focused.
Oh Gaia, Gaia help me! Help us all!
Fear twists her normally placid features. Fear, disgust, revulsion. . . pain. Its shakes her, in slow trembling measures until it rises, rises, tises, into a crescendo of a seizure. Voice snapping out of the wracked body in sharp, shrieked cries. She's screaming, as fast as she can draw breath. . . .screaming and the words are repeated over and over again.
"Annunaki! Dear Gaia, they're coming! Annunaki! ANNUNAKI!"
GAIA!
((So no one gets confused italics are Zoe's thoughts))
(dire)
Riding along the Skald had been largly quiet for the first part of the journey but after lunch when nothing could be found on the radio he'd started to hum. Not long before his melodic voice had come out with a soft song. Not loud. Not with the people packed in here with him. No, but quiet for their ears alone. His accent coyingly drawing them in as they go. A song for the road."Well I think I saw you in a dream,
You were dancin' by a slot machine, with a complementary whiskey in your hand
And when you asked what kind of streak I was on,
Somehow it just got better
So we might as well pull our asses out of DodgeYou spin the wheel and I roll the bones
Never let them think they've got us down
'Cause were already down, yeah
We'll hide away from the sun all day
The change of lights will lead our way,
To heaven or the highway out of townSo I think I saw you in a dream
Or was I just sucking down toluene, with a complementary vodka, in my hand
When you asked what kind of trip are you on,
And I blurted out somethin' stupid
When you grabbed my hand to drag me off to bedYou spin the wheel and I roll the bones
Never let them think they've got us down
Cause were already down, yeah
We'll hide away from the sun all day
The change of lights will lead our way,
To heaven or the highway out of townYEAH
You spin the wheel and I roll the bones
Never let them think they've got us down
Got us down
Cause were already down, yeah
Already down
We'll hide away from the sun all day
The change of lights will lead our way,
To heaven or the highway out o......."Looking over he blinks as Zoe starts freaking. One knee bumps the back of Deckers seat.
"Dec, the kin's freakin' man. Pull over. We might have found something.... Luc Keep an eye out."
His tone soft as not to further alarm the kin. His hands reaching over to take hers so she doesn't do one of those raking her face with finger nail things. Melodic voice turned from singing to murmering soothing words, trying to calm her.
As an aside to the truck in general
"Somone should take a Bo peep Umbral way..."
(mick)
"Holy- "The words are cut off as Dire starts to speak, Mick on the other hand watches Zoe with expressionless green eyes. He'd been scrunched up into one corner, head lolling on the door...eyes drifting closed, leaning towards sleep.
Then she started to scream.
Fuck me.
"She's fine .... just a bad dream or sumethin'...." Furrowed brows become more prominent as he watches Dire and Zoe with ample curiousity.
(dire)
He looks over to Mick, back to Zoe whom he's trying to comfort. A strong arm slipping around her shoulders. He holds Carmen when she gets scared. He rocks her gently. Soothing melodic voice issuing forth very softly"Arn't dreams the reason we travel to where we are going?"
Not so much challenging, but clarifying. TO him, one that grew up as Metis. Among the people. Dreams are very important.
(james)
I-80 might be boring to some, it might be boring to [i]most[/i] - but to the Gnawer? It's the most interesting damned thing he's seen...hittin' Jersey was his first time out of New York state, and so this, for whatever reasons, is really turning into the road trip of a lifetime. For awhile, he may seem to be a dreadlocked raggedyman of all of... three... for the way he's glued to the window, watching the cars, watching the semi's, watching the trees, watching the people in the cars and the semis and at the rest stops they pass, watching the bushes, reading every. [i]single[/i]. sign. half tempted to go lupus roll the window down and stick his head out just to explore the sents and sounds that would go rushing by but something just hints at him that might be a little too much (not to mention the whole wagging tail which would probably smack Rune in the face and then get ripped off because she's still none too amused aside from the fact she's still driving aggressively and canid balance isn't the best on exceedingly expensive leather interior) but otherwise he's soaking this up for all it's worthBecause he honestly doesn't know if this is going to be the last trip he ever takes. Whatever will happen, will happen, he's not going to waste any of the time they have.
Sbarro's is an exercise in how much food one can consume in the allotted amount of time, and since he's not particularly for striking up a conversation, it leaves his mouth total concentration on eatie treats. That would also precisely explain the sudden urge for nap fifteen minutes out. Full belly, warm sun slow-roasting them in its blinding glare, and the comfort of a now somewhat less-bristly packmate driving.
He's out for awhile, seat leaned back as far as the Z3 allows, sleeping right on through the sudden blare of country as the radio stations have switched on them and the CD case is a little too much to handle among the herd of semi's. But as fast as he fell asleep, the Ahroun's awake again, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and rarin' to go... uh.... drive.
A brow lifts at the mutter, at the sidelong smile turned smirk, and it's enough to finally break their silence and inspire a breath's worth of soft laughter and [i]that[/i] grin. "Allright, switch at the rest stop two miles up." See? He's still watching the signs. Once they've pulled over and found their way to the least populated part of the stop and it's little cinderblock room o' bladder relief, he leans a hip agaisnt the grimey driver's door of the Beemer, reaching to steal her lighter though he has his own cigarettes. He can feel the connection they have with the others stretched thin and taught as their tempers, earlier, so it's an unspoken agreement to wait here for check in.
(decker)
Once everyone was loaded into the Tacoma, Decker takes off. Churning mud onto the main road, he lays down a few rules of his own, simple enough: nobody touches the buttons while I'm driving. Change drivers every other rest stop. Oh yeah, and shut up when I tell you to.So when the kin starts screaming, and when the grit-toothed somebody. shut. her. up. doesn't work...
"Jesus fuckin Christ."
Rune, we got a motherfuckin problem. All this without slowing up one bit. If anything, he speeds up, because he's pretty sure that damn Z3 with its two passengers (her and her boyfuckinfriend...) passed the Tacoma with its five passengers miles and miles again. The girl's havin a fuckin vision 'n she won't. stop. screamin.
(ST)
Speeding along, probably a few miles ahead of Decker and the rest, Rune and James both get a faint tingling that something is wrong. What? They don't know...Efforts to contact the rest of their pack through the totem bond prove fruitless beyond that sense of unease...
--------
But back in the Tacoma Zoe calms down quickly enough once her reason is returned and her sight taken away. What does it mean? Why does it happen to her? None of these questions are answered any more than any others. All anybody really knows is that no one knows anything.
--------
So now Rune has a decision to make. Does she take I-75 south through Ohio, or pull off and wait for the Tacoma? The sense of urgency, of trouble, seems to have drained away, or maybe she's just getting used to it. Crap...
(mick)
The Fianna Theurge doesn't touch Zoe. He just eyeballs her, watching her with placid green eyes that should be far more soulful than they are."See? I told ya she'd be okay...." He mumbles, not in any sort of challenge to Dire (Who was more than likely right.....as his spidey senses tingle), just words so that he says something to fill up the silent air.
(rune)
Several miles ahead, Rune glances at her packmate (boyfuckinfriend) and catches the same look on his face: the tension of unease, half-awareness, reach and strain. What's going on, Decker? That's what she says, through the totem mindlink, and while James can hear it loud and clear as day, it seems that nothing but static will get through to the rest of the pack. The Glass Walker frowns - scowls - when no answer comes back. Even though the feeling has passed (or maybe she's getting used to it), they pull off the road.It's a rest area, a generic little rest area, complete with a place to walk your dog. And someone's walking a poodle there, some prissy thing with most of its body shaved, except for a couple of weird-looking puffs here and there. And the dog, of course, is wearing a sweater to cover all that naked skin, but the thing that really gets Rune are the little leg warmers covering the creature's legs.
"The fuck is this?" Half-a-snort, under her breath, the rise of her chin in the direction of the dog and dog-walker, the narrowed slant of dark, dark eyes and an amused little smirk on her red, red mouth. "Flashdance?"
They're parked waaaaaaaaaay out at the end of the parking lot, where the little purple Beemer stands out pretty starkly against the drab brown-white winter landscape, only partially concealed by the eighteen-wheelers idling in the rest area's lower lot.
She's already on her second cigarette. The first, she smoked hard and fast, then crushed beneath her (vicious) heel. (Somehow, the vision of her bending and plucking the crushed filter up from the pavement, then tossing it in the nearest available trash can leeches a bit of the force away from the bad girl image.) The second, she's gonna smoke long and slow, savoring every last hit.
One curving, leatherclad hip rests against the warmth of the idling engine, and she tosses her fur-lined collar up as ward against the biting cold. She steals the lighter back from James, then lights her own cigarette. Then, despite the feeling, despite the fact that they're out of contact with the rest of then pack and standing here in the cold in the middle of bloody freakin' nowhere (Pennslyvania? Ohio? The hell?) at some nasty little rest area (she braved the bathrooms. She envies the boys, who can stand up to piss.) scanning the traffic barreling by and hoping to catch a glimpse of the Tacoma. Hoping - even more - that the Tacoma will pull over sometime soon, damnit. Preferably here, the first rest area after she got the damn feeling.
Despite all that, Rune flashes James a smirk and offers him the cigarette with a flick of her elegant wrist and a nod toward his own Camel. "Trade?" The cigarette: her cigarette, bright pink paper, gleaming golden filter smeared with her red, red lipstick. Her mouth crawls upward into an ironic little smile, because - let's face it - James - the tall, muscled raggedyman smoking a pink cigarette is always a funny sight.
And, hell. They've gotta have something to do to pass the time. While they wait.
(decker)
No response.
Dead line.(please deposit $2821.28 for the next two minutes...)
That's not okay. Eagle's wings are broader than the sky. He should be able to hear the other car even if they were on the other side of the planet. Even if they were in the motherfuckin Deep Umbra. They didn't feel dead to Decker, but short of that, he couldn't imagine what'd split the totemlink.
"Luc, I ain't gittin' nothin' from Rune 'r James." This, spoken low and wary to his packmate under the tail end of Zoe's fit.
Thankfully, the Gazer kin calms down soon enough. Decker's still driving. He doesn't trust the sudden quiet, though. The eye of the storm, or so they say. His gunmetal-grey eyes keep on lancing back through the rearview mirror to look at those in the back seat, flickering between Zoe in the middle and the two on either side.
"The fuck was that all about, woman? Who's Anna Naki? Ya hearin' me?" Flick: the Skald. "Dire, she hearin' me?"
(zoe)
She calms, yes. If you can call the shudders that shake her calm, the breaths that are sucked in like they would never fill her lungs completely. Letting Dire do his soothing, she has little strength to fight, or care.Oh Gaia, the blood. . . I'm too late.
If she could look haunted, with sightless eyes, she would. Breathe in. . . breathe out. . . calm. . calm. . . the violent shudders becoming shivers becoming tremors, becoming still. . . so very still. Words. Were they talking? She wasn't paying attention, seeing them in her mind still.
You will be in darkness, so that you may see that which scares others.
She was scared now. Scared because if the vision meant what she thought, they could all be in very deep trouble. Finally breathing coming to a more regular pace, body aching from strain of what she had just put it through, words break through. Decker's words and her head swivels from Dire to face him. What does she see now? Does she see something for him, with her seer's eyes?
"They're coming. The Annunaki are coming. Demons, Decker, the demons who would kill us, kill all. I moved too slowly. The bloodshed has already begun. We need to get to Kentucky as soon as possible."
Voice shakey but more like her. No one had ever heard her scream. Even during the entire scenario at Eliza's, even blinded and moving through a suddenly more dangerous world, she had never screamed. In fact had rarely lost the unflappable calm she was so blessed with. However, the quiet tremor of her words means more then most will know. What she saw now was not the divine beauty that had blinded her. No, what she saw now was what will come, what had lurked on the edges. The Annunaki moved.
"I saw I-80. I heard thunder, unending thunder. Then the red van came into view alongside us. There is a driver. I could not see his face, shrouded in a green glow. It was foul, sinister, evil. . . and as they slowly passed us I could see the seats behind the driver. Two sat there. The one closest us, behind the driver was a man, but his mouth is wrong. Wide, too wide, and hungry. His eyes swirl, and it makes me sick to look at him. Beside him is what looks like a man but his skin is black. It writhes, like its infested, and his teeth clatter, too fast." A shudder from her as she speaks. "There is one more, in the seats, but all I can see is an arm, an arm with a wicked knife. It goes up and down, up and down, so quickly. . .like an animal. . . and the windows are covered in the blood, the blood of its victim. Oh Gaia, we'll be too late to save them all. . someone is going to die. And then I saw them smash into us to drive us off the road."
Breathing quickly again, with a barest shake. Her words brief, like relating any story but can you imagine seeing it? Feeling it? Hearing it? No, what she tells the truck's occupants are the details, but words only express so much. . and she lives with everything else the rest are spared. Finally, closing her eyes, she just leans into her seat, quiet, withdrawn, tired. She could use some hot tea and a lifetime of meditation. A softly murmured prayer to Gaia for the soul who would be lost, and for them in gaelic.
Please spirits, guide me, us, so we can stop this.
"We must find the Song Keeper before they find us, or her. . . "
(dire)
He blinks as she starts speaking and mutely nods to Deckers question. Yeah she hears him.Then she starts on that stuff. God Damnit he hates seers. They never see sunny days with lots of fresh meat to eat and soft beds and nice shit like that. Noooooooo
They only see blood and freakiness. The Skald frowns and looks around outside of the window. Rolling it down quickly to look behind them.... in front of them.......beside them... and just to make sure, above them and leans back in rolling it up quickly and shaking his head. He doesn't like this happy horse shit at all. A low growl escapes him and a faint flutter of fur tries to break out but he arrests his shift before it starts."Well that don't sound good at all"
Yeah it was stating the obvious but the Skald felt like he had to say something
"And we're purposefully going to meet these demons.... to get the song keeper." He nods. That he can do. Point him at "Demons" and he'd do his thing. But he has to "Portect" the kin. He frowns a bit. Reviewing what the woman had said and shakes his head.
"Man this is gonna blow...."
(Decker)
A scowl lashed back through the rearview mirror. "Banes. Fomori. Not demons."Ain't no such thing as demons; that's just the human word for it. The ignorant word. The elders taught 'em all that much before they ever hit their Rite of Passage. Right?
"Now, we got us two Skalds 'n a Theurge in this here truck. Make yerselves useful 'n tell me who or what the fuck "Anna Naki" might be."
Decker? He presses the gas down another notch. The speedometer crawls past ninety as they belt down the I-80. Rest area: 12 miles.
"Zoe. Yer little prophetic vision got any sorta timer attached?"
(zoe)
Call it what you will. Banes. Fomori. Demons . .all words for the same thing. The things that want to kill you. He asks the skalds and the theurge and he gets one quiet kin's reply."The Annunaki were babylonian demons, Decker. Banished to hell for their misdeeds. In my dreams, the dark presence I could feel coming was called Annunaki. Maybe they're banes or fomori. . . but historically, they were called demons."
Let him make what he will of her words. Its amazing what a little research can find.
"And no timer I know of. I saw I-80, and a red van approached us from behind. . . "
(decker)
His attention locks on Zoe through the rearview mirror. She can't see it, but she can feel it.A tautening in the air.
A prickle across her skin."Make 'n model?"
(dire)
"Demons...... Formori..... what ever. Line those fuckers up. We'll knock um down."He takes a moment and nods.
"Decker. I'm taking a step outside. Don't like.. freak or anything. I'll ride in the back till we get to where we're goin'. If I see a red van coming and it looks wyrmish I'm gonna unleash hell."
At that the young skald rolls down the window. Shimmies up to sit on the windo seal. Looks around and with agility bespeaking a life time of surfing on the top of trucks moving at 90 MPH down a high way he holds on to the top of the door frame. Slithers his feet up into the windo seal. Throws a leg aroud into the bed of the truck and shifts his weight around and plops down, back to the cab. head half cocked to keep listening with the acute ears. trying to filter out the wind
(zoe)
A shiver. A trickle of. . . Decker. . . across the skin. She shivers. Too soon after the vision."I don't know. A full sized van, from what I saw, and red. Its the best I can do."
She's hardly a car person. You drive them. They break, you see a mechanic. Someone asks you about them, you point yours out and let them answer their own questions.
(decker)
There's a silence. Lane dividers bump under their tires as he slides from the number one lane to the number two. His eyes flicker into the mirror again, scanning the heatglazed freeway behind them, and then he speaks again, quiet and steady."Go 'head, Dire, but don't git hasty." He was about to ask the sharp-eyed Skald to do exactly that, anyway. "If a red van so much as glimmers I wanna know about it first."
Can't be that many full-sized red vans on the road.
"Rest o' you. Rune's waitin' fer us at the next rest stop, with lunch, but ain't nobody gonna sit around picnickin', understand? I'll git out git the food 'n we'll move."
Lane dividers bump under their wheels again: #3 lane, and rest area 5 miles ahead.
"Luc, at the rest stop yer switchin' fer Rune. She can't call no shots if we can't hear her none. Try not to kill James in the Beemer.
"Theurge, you talk to spirits if you can 'til we git there, see what they kin tell ya 'bout this red van.
"Zoe, holler if ya remember somethin' else 'bout the van. Or Anna Naki. Like what she wants. What she got 'banished' fer. What all this shit has to do with the Song Keeper."
A crack of his neck, and then he checks his blind spot around all the heads in the car to slide into the exit lane, and off the freeway. Christ, he hated roadtrips sometimes.
(ST)
Rest stop. Rest. Stop. Half way there and they need a rest.Out of the car, strrrrretch.... Ahh.
Fresh air. Personal space. Snacks. Do they have a snack machine?! Cool! Get me a pop!
But perhaps most important... Bathrooms!
-----------
Time to confer and play catch up with Rune and James, do some checking and thinking, and find out that, mysteriously, the 'totem phone' is back...
Hmmm...
((I will move us on again tomorrow, maybe morning, maybe afternoon, but definitely before 4pm eastern. Great, great scene so far guys))
(luc)
"...spiderdawg' bitchin."He's not laughing but he finds the entire situation mildly humorous. Pale blue eyes fixed as his body twists (..the small pop of joints and the palpable question on everyone's mind--did that noise mean he's still growing?) Shaggy blonde hair causing a faint scowl of annoyance while huge mitts brush at the the severe lines of his face.
Eventually they reach the reststop and Luc is about the first one out of the car, his oversized toes pointing out of the size 16 Sandals. One stretch and then another before the ciggarette is lit beside the door Pip would be exiting on. One hand carefully folding the
"..fuck it I need a ciggarete." Wait you have a DUTY to do Luc, this ain't a family vaction. "..oh. Pip, you want one?" A ciggarette is held in offer to the girl (who does not see) as she exits the car iron stick rat-tat-tattling... her way without help. And maybe taht brings a faint nod of unseen appreciation from the kid.
"Now what the fuck happened?" Galliard is usually the first to open their BIG mouths.
(james)
Stretched thin is one thing, the total lack of an answer is another, and it's got his shoulders tense as steel beneath the patchwork quilt of a coat, to the restroom and back it hasn't lessened, and through the first Camel it hasn't lessened, and it's at her offer that whatever thoughts are eating at him finally stop chewing long enough to let his attention straybrow... lifts above the little round sunglasses
"Why not." grinned as easily as he can manage with a roll of stee...er.... shoulders, long arm reaching to offer the Camel in exchange for the bright strippa pink cigarette - whatever works for a smile, right? Right. The grin rakes rogue around the pink stick (they're, uh, smoother, that's why he likes em, yeh), then a smoke ring is blown just for dramatic effect, though dark eyes shift back towards the offramp from the highway.
He's counting the minutes that would pass the miles... they weren't that far ahead of the Tacoma, were they?
There
Chin lifts up in signal as the black truck barrels in the ramp, casually watching as they spill out one by one instead of peppering with the questions he wants to. He's not about to admit it yet, but that sudden static has him spooked. as. hell.
(zoe)
Her exit from the truck a relief, a blessd relief she could have kissed Decker for giving her. Holding her staff more firmly then usually, propping herself up with it to a degree. Luc's words catch at her ear, as do the sounds of the others exiting."No, Luc, I don't smoke. . please, I just want a bathroom. . and water."
Cold water. Could she wash away the tension? She still felt sick to her stomach. Sbarro's hadn't been her idea of choice food as it was, and after that she didn't think it was going to stay choice food for long. Idly wondering why Decker seemed so ignorant of what she knew Rune had been told. Mick hadn;t spoken up either, but her dreams answered his questions. . so why had he asked them? Let them talk for now. . . she really needed that bathroom. . . looked shaky.
(dire)
Hopping out of the bed he watches Luc. Blinks at the man and quietly shakes his head. Speaking softly to Zoe he offers her his arm."I'll take her Luc. You... enjoy.. your thing."
He nods to the cig and then leads Zoe over to the bathrooms. up to the door. Opens it with one arm and speaks.
"If anyone's in here don't scream. I'm bringing in a lady that cant' see."
He then does.
Walking her to a stall, Letting her figure out the rest on her own he stands guard like a sentinel. Just outside. Humming softly to himself.
(mick)
"I can't go into the umbra, I can't see into the umbra without being in the umbra, and if I go into the umbra I'm gonna git left behind because there isn't a car in the umbra ..." Mick rambles off as they drive, his eyes trained on Dire as the Garou shimmys out the window and in the back."Zoe, I won't lie and say it'll be okay .... but for this moment it's gonna be fine ..." He replies to the blind Kin. He didn't like her. Not because he didn't like her as a person, but he didn't like her because she was Kinfolk. He didn't like being here, really.
"Annunaki......Annunaki.......one fluid word.....they're Angels Decker, or Demons.......whatever, regaurdless they're spirits of some sort ..... and apparently they have a think for fuckin' with Zoe"
The truck hurries onto the rest stop and Mick gets out to stretch his long legs, arms raised above his head he works out the knots in his thick, large frame.
(zoe)
"Thank you Dire."A lot harder finding your way around a strange place after all, and her luck she would end up wandering down teh highway instead of the bathroom. Of course, his standing guard outside was almost amusing. Couldn't really fault it. Rune had made herself very clear.
Mick had spoken to her in the truck. Thats almost a first. She really wondered if perhap this entire thing with her seriously bothered him. She knew it bothered others. . . others who had decided to give her the moon and then vanish into the night. No, not going into that train of thought. Needed her attention here and now.
Taking care of things, she managed to keep that awful Sbarro's down. Some cold water on her face as she washed her hands, smoothing her well tousled hair, as it poked out of its braid. Have to redo that if only because she didn't want to look like a lunatic and spout off like one too. Little water fountain, long drinks. Tastes like tin and isn't very cold, but hey, its water. Then its back to the scene, before Decker gets antsy or anyone else decides to. Its not as if she's one anyone wanted on this jaunt. She's just the one with the roadmap burning its way into blind retinas.
"I'm all set Dire. Lets see what everyone else has to say."
(rune)
"I said they had to watch her ass when shit goes down." Amused, low, accompanied by a wide, easy smirk, the Glass Walker watches as the five climb out of the Tacoma, now parked alongside the Beemer. Dark eyes - hidden by quite dark sunglasses - watch Dire as he escorts Zoe to the restroom. "Didn't mean that literally."She flickers a glance toward James - the remnants of the strippa pink cigarette in his hand, the round little sunglasses, the dreads, the rip-taut sense of tension beneath the shared amusement - then straightens at last as Decker climbs out of the truck.
"What the hell happened?" glancing around, to be certain there are no unwanted listeners (the first car pulling through, wanting to park there, idles briefly, then backs up and settles for someplace waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay down at the other end of the wide crescent-shaped parking lot) and lifts her chin in Decker's direction. "Couldn't hear you at all."
(decker)
"Angels? Demons?"Fuckin' Fianna Theurge. Read one too many comics. Demons are just a front for the more powerful banes. Everyone knew that.
Snorting, Decker jams the door of the Tacoma open and climbs out, legs stiff from the long drive. No matter, though. As Dire takes Zoe to the bathroom, he stalks toward smirking Rune and James, backhanding beanpole-Luc on the arm (harder than necessary) as he passes to get his attention.
You think this is funny, Luc? You got somethin' strong enough to blot Eagle out 'n yer amused by it? C'mon.
Maybe Rune and Luc didn't have the benefit of a totemphone in their previous pack(s). Decker did, and likely James did too. He knew that shit was not supposed to happen, and it had him cranked up tighter than a highwire.
Now that the packmates could communicate in their efficient, silent way again, Decker simply passes on the cliff note's version on across a searing mindwave. The screaming, the vision, the static fading in before and fading out after it. The tension in the Modi is clear - it's in the set of his muscles, the scowl on his face, and the redheat behind his thoughts.
"Think we best put you in the Tacoma, Rune," he sums up, flicking a glance toward the freeway. Red van? Red van? No red van. Good. "Kin trade Luc out into the Beemer with James, but that's yer call."
(dire)
Dire nods to Rune when she says she didn't mean for him to literally watch her ass and all. He knew that. He's just taking his responsibility very seriously. Who knows what sort of formori could be lurking in an Ohio rest area? I mean come on... Ohio? The people were fucking wacked out on the pointy end strange. He wants the pack to see he can do as he's told. Even if he doesn't much like it. The female bathrooms arn't exactly common territory of a Get of fenris male.Sides. He didn't care about trivialities like women’s rest rooms. He cared about crawlin' fugglys grabbing the woman he's set to protect.
He hums. Once she's done he easily leads her to the sink. Then the water fountain. When she says she's ready he leads her back over to the others. His voice soft.
"Your rather a nice Kin Zoe... I hope nothing bad happens to you. If it does it'll likely mean I'm dead. I'm not too keen on that thought."
Just a slight bit of humor as they walk up and Dire gently touches her hand to the side wall of the Tacoma. Whispers in her ear "Truck" to give her some sense of local with out having to depend on him. He looks around and whispers the others locations to her and then remains at her side. Not touching her. He is Metis. He knows all about living with disability. He knows not to child someone and he's not. There is a vast difference between gentle compassion and chiding. The Get knows that difference and knows the independence that would wither were it taken away. He's not all about that.
For the moment he's about guarding the woman so that they all get what they are looking for.
Once giving her those quiet locations he stands silent. Highly acute senses ranging out. Unlike most Dire seems to pretty much keep his lupine senses in his other forms and when in lupus, one would think them almost mystical.
He smells the rest stop. Snorts and rubs his nose. That might have been a bad idea. Still he picks up on a few nuances that others might miss. Sweat, blood, fear, anger, nice smells, bad smells. They all flow into him to paint a fragrant picture in his minds eye.
His eyes, blue like Glacial heart ice peer out. Taking in all the colors the shapes. As garou, he's highly in tune with movement. Keyed up to survey everything.
Ears, sharp as the rest listen. The little sounds. Small animals and insects moving around them. The dull constant hum of the interstate. Flushes from the bathrooms.
He's not quite up to tasting the place, but his sense of touch is just as acute. Hairs on the skin feeling the breeze, displaced air from movements around him.
All the senses pour into him and are factored in. Rune could have picked a worse guardian to stick on the kin. But not really much a better one.
(rune)
Rune tosses James her keys, a quick, casual gesture, then shoots a narrow-eyed glance at Luc. "Don't smoke in my fucking car." Nostrils flare, and the Glass Walker's eyes narrow behind the shades, drift toward the horizon, measuring the height of the sun. "Or at least, if you do, roll the fucking windows down so it doesn't stink, and don't get any goddamned ash or burns on the fucking interior."The latter statement is a testiment to her own, bleeding tension. Whatever humor had passed between the Glass Walker and the Bone Gnawer (the pink cigarette in his mouth, her lipstick a red stain on the gold filter) during the wait has passed, indeed. She'll chain smoke until she falls asleep, now. Or, until they get rammed by a red van full of fomori on the road.
Once they've all made their pitstops, grabbed their drinks and snacks (she makes another trip, too, purchasing a good dozen sodas to restock the cooler, and half the chocolate and deep-fat-fried goodies in the snack machines, for later. Can't say she doesn't take care of her pack.) and reassmbled by the truck, she lifts her chin to the lowering ball of the sun.
"We'll stop once more before dark, for gas and take-out. Drive on through the night, no stopping except to piss." There's a quick glance toward James. " - you and Luc have my number. Try to stay close to us, but if Eagle drops out and you can't reach us, pull over at the next exit, find a payphone and call." Dark eyes drift toward the rest of the group. "Unless someone else has a cellphone they can use.
"Otherwise, that's it." The Glass Walker shrugs, dismissively, and then stalks to the trunk of the Beemer. She stands there half a moment, hand settled on the finish, and shoots glance toward James as she pats the trunk. Rune digs through the contents (packed. full.) until she finds her weapons.
Moments later, she's settled into the passenger's seat of the Tacome, never mind that there are others, taller, who could probably use the leg room. When Decker climbs into the driver's side, she casts him a sharp glance. "How long since you took a break? You had any fucking sleep today?"
(decker)
The Modi tosses a glance at the Glass Walker. "Was gonna make Luc drive next. But."But Rune outranks him, Luc's in the other car, Zoe's blind, Dire can't really drive, and Mick looked like he didn't give a shit about anything. Including if some red van rammed them off the road.
A shrug, as he buckles himself in. "I kin handle it."
(rune)
"I've been driving all damn day, too." The Glass Walker's hidden eyes settle on her Fenrir packmate, reflecting his face back at him in a distorted pattern. "I'm going to nap. Wake me in a while, and we'll switch."The unspoken is obvious, there: if nothing happens to wake me before then.
There's a glance over the seat, then. "Dire, Mick. Either of you know how to use a gun?" They can see the dull gleam of the weapons in the Glass Walker's hands. There's a faint, smirking curl of the woman's dangerous red mouth. "I mean, well, of course."
Rune's gaze flickers to Zoe. "If something happens, stay in the truck as long as possible. Easier for us to defend the truck than to worry about you flailing around on the road in the dark. Get down on the floor and fuckin' hide, or something. Get out only if one of us tells you to get out, or if you smell gas and think the goddamned truck's about to blow."
(dire)
Dire shakes his head to the gun comment and touches the tattoo going up his right arm"I'm more a weapons fighter Rhya... Guns have no soul.
I can ride in the back keeping an eye out for the van. Give yall a heads up if I see anything resembeling it."
(james)
One dreadlocked Bone Gnawer with a strippa pink cigarette about ready to break his teeth his jaw is gritted so hard. If the lipstick stained filter wasn't being bitted in half as a buffer he'd probably have hurt himself by now. Humorous indeed. The searing shockwave of the Cliff's Notes vision did. not. help.He's had a totem phone before. He remembers the pain of what happened when it snapped like a brittle twig. He understands the Modi's tension more than he'd ever want to. Keys jangling to clicking silence as his hand snaps out to catch them. He's a little more relaxed now, that it's back, that there's that familiar (comforting) feeling of [i]pack[/i], but it's the possibility that it may stretch again that's got the tension still running through him like biorhythms.
[i]Annunaki are Babylonian or Sumerian... the children of Anu, the seven judges of Hell, known as "the Great Ones." They lived in Heaven and were banished to Hell for their misdeeds. Some new age religions think they're a race of aliens.[/i] Using the regained link for all it's worth, just because it's back. Even through the tension, they can feel the heavy sigh. This just keeps getting better and better. [i]Basically they sit outside the underworld gates to judge and determine the fates of the dead that arrive there. Fits right in with whomever's trying to raise Rabishu through the killings in Jersey Imogen was telling me about.[/i]
After the little chat with Imogen, he made sure to hit the library, he made sure to get her the books she needed, and he skimmed through them himself - just to keep up to date. Brow raking upwards as he unlocks the tunk of the Beemer for Rune. Yes. He's having issues. It's obvious this isn't a little [i]thing[/i] anymore. It's becoming a cross-state multi-leveled all involving clusterfuck. The Wyrm is one thing. And he can understand and accept how the human race has rationalized its interactions with spirits and banes and everything else into religious beliefs and fears. But Babylonian dieties? Elohim? Something strong enough to short out the totem phone lines?
He's been through the looking glass. He's walked into a Spiral pack's lair without a second thought. But this? Is reeeeaaaally spooking the mellow Gnawer.
Looking across the convertible top of the Z3 at the Skald, he can't help but revisit a little bit of that previous humor. He's almost a tight fight in the two seater, and Luc's got a good six inches on him. Welcome ladies and gents, to the incredible foldable Fenrir show. After having slept through that last couple of hours, we're good to drive for awhile. The Beemer purrs to life and he's set to follow the Tacoma, without the Beta in the car with him, there isn't even a second thought to falling into his place.
(Don't look back, James, something may be gaining on you.)
(ST)
Its just a short drive... an hour ...to I-75 south, and back to a real highway. Exits every mile, sometimes more. And Cracker Barrels galore. Must be the State eatery of Ohio or sumthin...And that's about all there is to see... Cracker Barrels, Outback Steakhouses, Joe's Crab Shack's... God damn people in Ohio must eat alot. There are at least three resteraunts at every exit, hanging like parasites on the veins of the Weaver. Well, at least you missed Toledo. That's something.
You pass south through Piqua in Maimi County (Maimi in Ohio? WHo would have thought?), motor through Dayton and keep on truckin. Decker's tired, Rune's asleep, and James is having entirely too much fun driving the Beemer. Luc's bored, and so are Mick and Dire, and they're all following a blind woman. No wonder tempers are near the surface.
No wonder Erik stayed behind. 'To guard the territory,' Fuckin alpha looks smarter every time you look at him...
Ohio passes, finally, and Kentucky is breached. But there is still some driving to do until the rural route is reached that leade to Swift River City, almost all the way to Tennessee. Thankfully, it passes without incident... Totem phone working the whole time.
Take rural route 30 west for 30 minutes, 20 for James and the Beemer, and there's the sign. Swift River, and sure enough, a bridge over a river, probably running swiftly. Just past the bridge is the drugstore, parking out front, the church across the street, and that's it. Hardware store on the 'other side of town', about a quarter mile further down. Now, if memory serves, the Caern is somewhere to the North, and the residence of the Song Keeper somewhere to the South. Which will it be? Never got a response from the Caern...
((H'okay. Make the final plans. There are people about, and like most small towners won't want much to do with you. I would like to get you hiking by this weekend, and I am thinking that next weekend would be a good time for a scene. Endevoring to nail down a time I can be on.))
(cont'd next file)
Posted by james at January 23, 2003 12:00 AM