September 25, 2002.09.25.02. - ride home? [decker-gabe-rune-others][pine barrens]
(varg)
[...scent stronger, harsher...]wyrm and weaver clutters the damp muzzle... damp from lukewarm blood... a carcass stained with black soil limply hanging from the wolfs jaws...
[...Man not here, no scent... but trail warmer...]
... a cold breeze cut through clouds of unrest and brought more stinging smells from the city... Man had been gone for two moons now and the uncomfort and insecurity from losing a packmate grew stronger with every nightfall...
(decker)
Somewhere out in the woods, perhaps close enough for a perceptive lupine to hear, the young Modi tramples down a long-abandoned path. Indians trails, people called 'em, but usually they were wrong. Deer trails, maybe.Loosely swinging at his side is a crowbar, the hooked end rusted suspiciously red. He isn't a ghost; he doesn't move quietly. Fallen leaves rustle under his feet and crunch to dust.
This ain't no nature walk. He was taking a shortcut, and that was all. Point A to point B. Scope out the abandoned cabin. See if he could settle there, at least part-time. Something like that...
(james)
now there are those that are comfortable in the woods, and others that are comfortable in the city - and sometimes, you come across those that are equally adept at functioning pristinely in any environment you throw them intothe man perched crosslegged on top of a boulder is not one of them
he's comfortable out here, by all means, but he's obviously not quite at home, the patchwork tophat lays on the granite beside curled thigh, second hand black BDUs, tattered longcoat, and bag of beef jerkey sorta stick out like a sore thumb among the more trendy forest fashions and gear
the Alice pack seems to fit in, but those rebar drumsticks seem a bit odd
but he's having a snack, and doesn't damn well care about fitting in
does he(starling)
Adding sticks to the hot coals in the bed of the firepit. Getting things going for making dinner. Hoping to have it all done and cleaned up before dark this time. A shaft of sunlight weaving through the trees to touch her hair, giving the ebon mass a bluish tint like the wing of a bird or oil in a puddle of rain water.(varg)
[...markings, manmarkings...]...the parcel of flesh slumped from yellow teeth to brown moss, the impact letting a wet sound slip... the brown-and-grey-flecked, heavy wolfhead shook, as if all sensory inputs offered to him would give them a more promising meaning... crimsontabgled paws scrapes the soft earth to the side to create a shallow grave for the deceased...
[...greet at dusk... good place to rest... need strength to chiminage...]
...the male tucks the rabbit in with arrogant haste... slyly he gazes around in search of drier ground, finds it and pads over with muzzle bobbing just a few inches over the ground... crashing the brawny body into a group of brackens, he intently rubs palt and his own scent into the vegetation...
[...approach...]
...the sensation shoots through his predatory mind the very instant sounds of someone moving through the autumnscene reaches his now perked ears... with startled speed he springs to all four, ears and muzzle pinpointing the direction of the source...
[...two legs...]
...the analysis is fairly accurate since Decker at least for the moment has chosen to walk like a man... a deep rumble is soon born from the animals insides, gaining amplitude as it carries over the sounds of the land... an inquiry mixed with confidence of his claims...
(decker)
--and stop.The crowbar ceases its lazy pendular swing; the lowslung, thuggish slow-swagger of the thug's shoulders ceases. Did he hear a fuckin' growl?
Drawn into himself, coiled, his grey eyes flicker over the foliage as he turns in a slow circle. Gradually, almost lazily, the crowbar comes up to rest its ridged iron shaft against his shoulder. The posture makes the place of the out-of-place tool quite clear: weapon.
Perhaps that explains the flaking dull red-brownness at the claw end.
(starling)
Rising after a few moments. Brushing her hands against each other to knock the dirt from them while heading for the ladder leading up into the tree fort.(erik)
A man walks up Deckers backtrail, following unerringly.(varg)
[...no sound, recognized...]...rapid movement carrying a few feet closer before he echoes his previous growl, adding edge to clearly present his state of emotion... the canine was tired, and tired males tend to become protective of their position, and his ways of keeping position was through violence... unforgiving, swift violence without reflection or conscience... ears flick back over his long head and then back, greyish toungue rolling out to quench a yawn before it slips back behind clenched jaws...
(james)
the song of deadly growls, the translucence of a strange piece of metal into a brandished weapon draped in the approaching fall's colors, and even the scents of roasting coals rising into the night's breeze tickling through the treeze are somewhat lost on the boyman with the dreadlocks on the rocksfresh jerky
moist
chewy
pungentcan anyone ask for more?
..... oooh, a milkshake.
but one's not going to find a milkshake out here in the boonies, is one, so with a bit of a sigh and a stretch to jangle the change in one of the many resident pockets, Cochrans drop off the boulders to bounce onto the ground
"Eighty-five..... ninety-five..... buck thirty... fifty.... well Jamey-boy it seems worth the walk."
(decker)
You have got.Up and up swings the crowbar, back along his neck until he can reach up and grab it with the other hand. Thus self-crucified, both hands exerting equal pull on the crowbar (good position to start a fight: he lets go with left hand, right hand carries the momentum into an arc and - crunch.), he turns toward the direction of the growl.
.to be kidding him.
The growl was a wolf; he could tell that much. And so he replies accordingly, strange non-human non-wolf sounds tumbling from his human lips. If you understand this, show yourself or back off, wolf.
Funny how there aren't any accents in garouspeak.
(erik)
Knowing without fail the exact direction of his quarry, he is able to move swiftly while retaining a fair amount of secrecy. Those of the black moon like to move quietly. And having the use of the wolf shape, with its black coat, he does this well.(starling)
This was a climb she did many times daily and even in the middle of the night when nature called and couldn't be ignored. Brows furrowing as she climbs upwards. Not sure, but she thought she heard something out there. Never hurt to be safe though. Immediately going to get the shotgun and set it near the opening in the floor before gathering foodstuffs, dishes, pots and utensils to cook the meal. Loading everything in the basket to lower slowly to the ground below. Everything but the gun that is. She didn't want to have the gun fall out and discharge, maybe shooting herself.(james)
after gathering the Alice pack and resituating the tophat where it belongs, and a breif pause to check himself, he heads...thattaway!
which should be the way back to the city
should
and when one is raised in the city, with the awful city noises to cover footsteps and scents and every other sort of nugget of information that screams "hello! I'm approaching" - well - sure makes for a somewhat noisy passage through the normally oh so silent woods, not that he's crashing through the trees, but one can make Cochrans only so quite when following nothing that resembles a trail and is littered with twigs and leaves and the occasional rock and any manner of other noise-producing natural occurances(warg)
[...human...disappointment...]..the shape of his approach route is arced, slowly stalking into sight...
[...weavertool...alone, lacking packmates?...]
...shoulderblades rasing and sinking as he paces back and forth in front of the man, yellow eyes drifting from weavertool to the mans eyes in an daring manner... yips and rumblings emits from his blackgummed mouth in an unrythmical staccato...
"Alone?... Position? Name?"
(decker)
As the wolf approaches slantwise, Decker cocks his head to the side, storm-grey eyes flickering over the beast. All right, he'll play along.For now. Fostern Modi. He speaks his new rank, just a few days old, with no particular (obvious) pride. The young ones did always grow so fast. Grow up to fight. Grow up to die. 'Silence'. You?
(erik)
Slowly now, the black wolf creeps up on Decker and Varg.(james)
over the river and through the woods where milkshakes abound we go..... or..... something like that, lips pursing into a rather bright rendition of "Julia" whistled somewhat under his breath, the tune broken only by the slight smile of finding a trail (eureka!) which, after another quick check (Mother Rat, which way are you......) the boyman carries on
sally forth
and all that
not quite at the point of hearing the voices ahead, not yet(varg)
[...Modi, like Man...]...the yellowbellied male freezes for an instant, looking like he was quenching a sneeze... a shut for a good second before he returns the introduction...
"Fostern Wolf born of Wolves... Under no...moon born... Wolverines-Bane"
[...new scent...]
...ending up still, facing the weaverclad man the rotagar becomes instinctively aware of another presence close by... the animals gaze lowers to the chest but the his eyes doesn't leave to search for the other one... it would be a selfinflicted insult to his olfactorian sense...
(decker)
Two approaching, one loud, one silent. Decker is oblivious to the presence of the second, but the first - he shoots a glance in the direction of James' footsteps. Damn. The boy moved louder than he did. Decker didn't recall anyone in the forest moving that loud. Most of 'em here were Indian brave-types, quiet as phantoms.Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the young Modi, who is built like a stone wall compressed into his shy-of-six-feet frame, also looks away, but not out of any particular awareness of dominance etiquette. The ways of wolf do not come instinctively to him; he lived fifteen years and was a man grown when he Firsted. The blood of his first kill was already on his hands by then.
Varg's awareness makes the hair at the back of his neck tingle. He hears one, but instinct spoke of another which he could not sense.
Wolverine's Bane, he repeats. Alone as well?
(varg)
[...more scents, a pack?...]...unintentively delaying the answer as he broke the visual link between 'Silence' and himself... intensly, on the brink of desperately, he takes snapshots of the dark surrounding, instincts drawing maps of possible routes for ambushes...these basic elements of logic were new and unnatural to him, though he had learned to use them to his advantage... with ears drawn firmly back over his ears, clearly displaying his distrust of the entire sitaution he growls, quieter then first intended...
"Two moons... Man gone, search"
(james)
yes, move loudly, and most normal skittish forest folk and predators will then move away from you, not to mention the reek of the city helps, and those that stay behind are hopefully intelligent enough to reason with and move on, if not, we'll hope they're a far cry slowerelsewise - we're screwed!
but that thought isn't quite at the forefront of the boyman's mind, rather he's wrapped up in the sweet strains of Julia and the even sweeter thoughts of gooey caramel draping vanilla and chocolate and ice cream and malt and and and
okay, now the voices key in
and the whistle stops - even if a day late and a dollar short
footsteps slowing
but there really isn't any cause as that won't be any help, he's made enough racket, so shoulders more muscular than they would appear to be adjust beneath Alice's straps and he sorta keeps on movin' on, might as well carry on like we meant to do itif it works for cats, it works for him
besides, if opportunity knocks, so did he, so he can't be blamed for skulking around in the shadows like some pretentious self-proclaimed lord of them, now can he
(decker)
As Erik approaches, both the wolves can read a certain change in the stance of the Modi. Less aggressive (though such things are relative for Decker); comforted by the presence of the one he knows. He is, after all, Garou, and Garou move in packs. Even if he and Erik are not a true pack, they had watched one another's backs, and that meant much to those born to Fenris.Who is Man? - blunt, the question; his always are. The crowbar comes off his shoulders down, released to hang again at his side, loose.
(rune)
Three approaching. One loud, one silent, and one really, really loud. I-hate-this-goddamned-place sort of crashing through the underbrush loud, sounding less like a woman than, say, an huge-ass Suburban gone off-road.Rune saunters through the underbrush, cursing just beneath the cusp of her breath. Whenever some trailing branch snags her hair, or her white silk shell, or anything else, she gives full voice to her ongoing underbreath color commentary, which is filthy enough to make a sailor blush. Something about... ...well, best not to think about it, really. Best not to think about it at all.
(varg)
[...Wolf! No...]...the true breed of the newly arrival is frappant to his senses rewarding him with even more unease... the displeasing scenario reflects unmasked on his movingpattens and posture as it grows more and more hostile, agressive... and the rustling sounds of strides taken on dry leaves doesn't help either... instantly responding to Deckers movement with his own skittish jump, but the question sooths him... temporarily...
"Man packmate...lost...tracks old"
(starling)
Using a long handled spoon to stir the contents of the pot between adding onions, salt, pepper, carrots, potatoes. The outside of the pot turning black as the flames lick upwards. Pot suspended just above the flames, swaying slightly with the stirring.(decker)
Decker grunts. Tough luck, that. Not that he hadn't been somewhat abandoned by his Alpha. Then again, her brother died. Guess she went home to mourn him.Thoughts unspoken. Decker just moves his shoulders in a shrug, perhaps incomprehensible to the wolf-mind. Still looking for him? Or...?
Quieting, he looks silently in the direction of the crashing. Ten bucks says it's Rune. Only she managed to sound so pissed stomping through the woods. On the off chance it wasn't her but some lost camper, though, he wasn't going to be caught barking and yipping at a wolf.
Maybe Erik had the right idea, slipping away like that. He never even saw the Rotagar go.
(james)
on a whim (a chance and a prayer) another whistle breaks forth
you just don't sneak up on people in the forest
can get one shot
or worseand while knowing he's made enough noise to guarantee game isn't going to relax for a good distance, it would still just be rude, cause they can't be more than up around that next curve, honestly, even if he's not exactly sure how sound carries through the trees, he just knows it does, and that's good enough
at least he's not the loudest trekker of the evening
(starling)
Lifting her head with a frown with all the sounds out there this evening. It was usually fairly quiet with small rustlings and the sound of birds, frogs and insects. Reaching over to make sure the gun was within easy reach. With the weird things that had happened, she wasn't going to take chances.(decker)
(You lookin' at me?)Eye contact wasn't much for him, but a glare was. A glare, a growl. He doesn't react quick to that; no, he moves slow, easy, contemptuous, tilting his chin up an arrogant inch. No one, no Shadow Lord, no Silver Fang, had mastered looking down his nose at another quite the way Decker had.
How long's it been? Probably dead.
(gabriel)
The sweet scent of the realm of spirit carries with it the refreshing breath of new life and unlimited possibility. Here true depth of vision and heart can be addressed, here is where the beginning and the End are always one, here is the place of legends and of rebirth.The meditation ends as the large irishmen begins once more back into the realm of the Real. Shifting through the planes of exsistance he enters into the park, into his camp.
Casting a look around he noticed that his packmate is not to be seen this night. ~Good~ he thought... she needed time on her own for a while.
It was then that the familuar spirit of the wood, the one whom he had come to know quite well began to whisper to him... drawing him through the wood as he began to approach the others.
(rune)
Poor Decker. There's no one to take him up on his bet, unless he wants to try to swindle the lupus.Scrambling over a tangle of deadfall, Rune comes into view. She smells of cigarette smoke, with the spiky suggestion of something sharp and sweet among them dressed casually enough, in a pair of sleek black leather pants, a sleeveless white shirt, and the pair of black leather boots she keeps in her trunk for just such an occasion. Her Manolo Blahniks dangle from her fingers, a twinned pair of finely crafted torture devices that look devastatingly good on bare feet. Too bad she can't hike in them.
Her head cocks to the side, catching the corner of a whistle (?) beneath the loud jangle of her passing.
)gabe)
It didn't take him long to cross the ground between them. Approaching the area of the others he paused upon the fringe, watching... listening... There were those he knew well enough as well as those whom he had not met yet and wanted to gauge for himself what type they were before entering fully.(starling)
She was still some distance off in the area of the tree fort. Hearing odd sounds now and then, but nothing she could hear clear enough to put a name to it. Thinking maybe it was her imagination in overtime.(varg)
[...honorless...]...in the grey mass that was the nightair something flashed, a yellow stripe drawn between where Deckers chest is and the predators eyes were a split-second ago... the snarl is abruptly cut off into a gurgle as his teeth sink into the mans collarbone, pressing down with a full-grown male wolfs entire might... two paws heavily planted on shoulders and ribcage, two kicking spastically in search of ripping groin and belly...
...come one, come all, dispute about to be settled...
(james)
one growl
the word "dead"good enough to slow those steps a bit more, announced or not, because he's not exactly sure he wants to walk in on whatever it is that's happening up ahead, bcause it's not sounding promising
his approach now very cautious
but Gabriel's familiar scent is somewhat comforting, switching paths to come up beside the Irishman(gabe)
~Just in time it would seem~ he thought as he passed from the line to step fully into view but not intruding.Feeling James move up next to him his attention remained upon the open fight in front of him. Crossing his arms the large Irishman looked on with an even temperment. He would not intrude upon this, it was not his place... but he would ensure that it remained fair and honorable nonetheless.
(james)
there's a bit of a nod at the pseudo-acknowledgement (some things do go without saying), dreadlocks dancing on his shoulders, though he stays a halfstep behind and to the side of the Elder, only watching, learningno way in hell is he going to intrude
(rune)
What type is she?Rune looks rather like a Vogue fashion write, or some other tragically hip New York City professional, whose cute little convertible ran outta gas in the middle of nowhere and is now hiking around - blindly, cursing - and searching for a gas station in the middle of nowhere. Next time, she should just follow the strip of crumbling asphalt that passes for a road around here.
What the fuck had Decker done? Rune snorts, gaze slipping from the tangled deadfall through which she scrambles to Decker and the attacking wolf. Note to self. Wear dedicated clothes in the fucking woods, and bring a goddamned gun next time. The natives are rabid.
"...fuck," she grouches, steadying herself with one hand on the trunk of the rotting tree and swinging one leg across, then the other, as her free hand shoots out ahead of her to drop her sandals into the sparse growth beyond. She pauses to dig into her back pocket for a switchblade, for she has an interest in the outcome, but doesn't exactly want to ruin her clothes.
Yeah, she thinks like that sometimes.
(decker)
This is a rare thing.Decker is not the one to initiate attack, and this is rare. Caught momentarily off guard, the thug falls backwards, an accident which possibly saves him a good deal of damage. Before he hits the ground he's in his dire-wolf form. Black lips peel back from pink gums, white teeth as long as a man's hand is white, and lengthening: he snarls, silently, and the hush of the deep sea is upon him.
The world is red.
The world is red,
and he wants to kill for the sake of killing.Pain is a distant thing, registered but not felt. Emotion is lost; what is felt is the rip and tear of flesh, the crunch of bone as his teeth clamp shut once on a foreleg, hindleg, something - a feint to the left, then a dive for the soft underbelly - twice.
(Threefourfive?)
...no. Not yet, at least. He was learning restraint. Slowly. Braced on all fours, the Hispo-wolf shows his teeth again: Back down. Back down or I break you in half.
(gabe)
He continued to look on at the two forms and the third now. Crystal blue eyes gaze over the scene from one to the next. He knew better than to truly believe anyone as fare and slight would just "happen" to get stranded out here in what some have jokingly called the "1000 acre wood". Yet he atleast liked to see that she was trying either way.Looking on he watches as the young Get continues with the fight. Shifting and gauging his foe.
The large Irishmen all of a sudden begins to break down the fights characteristics, the stance and counterstance, the forms used to fight, the line of attack and countering moves both used and optionally thought of had "he" been in this position.
Shaking his head after a moment slowly he realized what he was doing and had to fight back the smile quickly. It had been a long time in the roll of teacher, leader, and this was neither, but always a learning oppertunity. He would save the pro's and con's of this fight for later.
(james)
a brow lifts beneath the floppy brim of the floppier hat
studying
far cry different than city brawling, that's for sure(varg)
...rolling over the falling man-turning-to-beast with jaws pasted to the targeted shoulder, the rotagar almost snaps his own neck... something that would only delay him instead of outright kill him... in order to regain some overview of the fight that odd feeling of logic kicks in again allowing him to resit the basic urge to just bite down and tear until the prey goes limp... back on all four and ready to pounce or be pounce, he swings around and faces two rows of teeth arranged to snarl and hold back instead of lashing out to kill... to this feral it was as good as any apology, no matter what human thoughts or mindpatterns that lie behind that action... or lack of action...
[...honor...]
...equally abruptly as they had clashed, they return to a more relaxed posture... as relaxed as Fenris children get... the modis confident statement will have to wait for an answer but for how long is written in the stars...
"Not dead... godi true"
...the wolf begins to pace again, careless of the audience but most likely not oblivious of their presence...
(starling)
Dividing her attention between the faint sounds and her dinner. Her full attention returning to the cooking meal now that the noises have dropped. Never certain what it was. Maybe something hunting out there for all she knew.(rune)
Rune's nostrils flare with a snorting exhale, and she shakes her head as she bends to retrieve her discarded sandals from the scrubby ground. Full red lips curve into a viscious smirk, which encompasses the Decker-the-badass-snarling-direwolf and the stranger, but does not bare teeth. If she knew much about wolfen body speech, she'd probably do that. As it is, though, she's harmless and toothless and soft and stinks of the city, cigarettes and gasoline, and some undercurrent of perfume, subtle and sandalwoody to human senses, but utterly offensive to the keen nose of a wolf.Fair perhaps she is (indeed she is, if you like that kinda thing), but she's not slight, not in the least. Perhaps an inch or two shy of six feet tall, her taut frame is toned and firm, and moves with the overt bodily confidence of a born athlete.
Charming, she thinks to herself, managing not to give voice to the caustic sentiment, and settles into a comfortable slouch against a convenient tree, running her pale white hand through her freshly dyed black hair. Look, ma. No more roots.
(decker)
Relaxation, as Varg would know, is relative. His hackles are still raised, his paws braced wide and each toe of that paw splayed, ready for violence, tingling for violence, quivering with anticipation of violence. The gash down his belly drips blood to the ground, too fast to be healthy, but he'll live. Their kind always did, it seemed.A low growl twists itself into grudging meaning as he stands down, backpedaling two steps and sitting: Maybe.
A better man than he would recognize the honor in the other. A better man than he would recognize that Varg had obeyed the unspoken laws of nature, where few beasts fight to kill. A better man than he might even offer to aid the search, but...
Across the forms he melts, pausing finally in Glabro, where he could heal, but which was still close enough to his native form to be more comfortable than his killing-forms. Those were alien, far removed and without human moral and value. Sinking to his haunches, he traces the wound staining his dedicated wifebeater red and eyes the other wordlessly for a moment before finally growing aware of the audience. A black glance is cast around at the three who watch. He spits a few human words, thick in his Glabro form, "The hell y'all gawkin' at?"
(james)
that brow lifts again..... oooh, this one is as charming as the braying jackass, if a touch more rough around the edges..... and the comment isn't returned, rather his attention turning where it should be
to Gabriel"Uncle....Arianna and I found a few things, but if now isn't a good time....."
brown gaze returning to the two recovering combatants in breif glance
(gabe)
Watching the show he mentally noted to the show of honor displayed in front of him. Even now the wreck of blood and opened wound he mearly points to Varg as the young Get speaks...Even if the city reeked upon the form of the female it was really the other softer and more defined scents that carried weight to him. Thankful that he had chosen tonight to remain in homid he would have to attone for such a thought later, but for now it was worth it. Looking at her he was pleased to see that as she came fully into respectable view that she was well defined and taller than most females he had encountered. His stature just over 6' with his broad (powerful) shoulders and chest, stood out in comparison. The scar under his right eye in the shape of a teardrop something more strange than most. Worn jeans, hiking boots and a well used flannel rolled to the elbow over a dingy white or was it grey T-shirt was the order of the day. The brownish blonde hair hung down to his shoulders once more. Still not as long as it was but atleast it was progress.
Listening to James he only nodded to the side of the man on which he stood in responce to his declaration. His attention remained on the wounded combatants and the measure of what they chose to follow up with... as well as the new arrival of the female.
(rune)
For her part, Rune remains where she is - arms crossed over her lean stomach, body cast in a negligent slouch, with the fine white silk of her designer shell catching against the rough bark of a fragrant pine. In three days, or a week, or whenever she managed to get to around to errands, the dry cleaner would see the faint staining of sap and grumble under his breath without uttering a cross word to her.She shrugs, not uneloquently, as it seemed the only appropriate response to Decker's query. Her dark eyes flicker across two men at the fringe of the small clearing, then return to Varg and Decker, bleeding onto the forest floor. Even to her blind human nose the scent of blood is sharp and jangling, but she has nothing to offer. Death is her art, not healing.
(decker)
Keeping a hand over the wound to keep it from tearing open, he sinks down on his ass and watches the wolf lick his foreleg for a minute before grunting and tearing a strip off the bottom of his shirt. There's a big red splotch of blood on it, and the spirit he'd had bound into it to dedicate it to his body wasn't going to be happy about it, but it was all he had.Want me to bind that? The offer seems to surprise him, a little. This is about as 'nice' as Decker gets. Ever.
(james)
there's a bit of a return nod, and then the young Ahroun moves off to the side a bit - not that he doesn't have anything to offer the combatants, just that he's so used to being uninvited in situations such as this that he just saves everyone the trouble and takes care of everything himself, settling the Alice pack by a tree, followed soon by his shoulder
and simply waits(varg)
(OK, Varg's post--)...something renders his world and he finds himself before an offer...
[...pity...]
...the brown-grey wolf draws back from the modi, clearly stating his views on help from non-packmates...instead the predator gets on all four, now three, and begins to limp away from the gathered... the cold night swallows him as he disappears back to the spot where he had buried his carcass, a ripegrown rabbit which he digs up with jaws and muzzle due to his unfortunate handicap... he had lost his trail for now, that soiled urrah had thrown him off track... he'd lost at least half a moon due to this incident... but he wasn't bitter, bitterness is a logical thought, one he'd still had to learn...
(decker)
As the other draws away and disappears into the wood, Decker doesn't follow. He had neither the desire nor the curiosity. If there was some grudging respect for the other's act of strength, he doesn't show it, instead silently and grimly staunching the hole in his own gut with it.Already the flow of blood was slowing. Nevertheless, he stays where he is, ignoring the watchers until he's done. There is the taste of the other's blood in his mouth, but his hands are too messy to wipe.
"Show's over, alright?" he mutters some minutes later, when the group still stands around him like some ring of inquisitors visiting doom upon the blameless.
(gabe)
The large man sez nothing, this fight was of a personal nature and ended in a respectful way. Though he would have liked to see the other recieve healing and thus live another day he could not force it upon another to take that which was not wanted.His attention instead went to the woman who stood against the tree. Dark and lovely, a femine figure of deaths embrace... he wondered if she would fit the mold, like so many others before her.
(starling)
Nudging the pot from over the flames after a final stir. Then filling a bowl to hunker down in the small ring of light cast from the fire pit. Another day and night where her roomate had vanished off into the woods or who knew where. Ever so often slapping her leg between bites. Warding off the irritating insects trying to get a meal off her while she filled her own belly.(decker)
Well, fuck. He couldn't chase all of them off. Not in this state, at least. Should've seen the attack coming; no excuse for getting caught off guard like that. Running a hand over his face and back over the dome of his head, he shakes his head quickly, almost canid. In this form, he's much larger, Neanderthalic. His hair is thick and heavy, the color of straw, extended down in sideburns that were nearly fur. Looked like a wolfman from one of those old movies, he did.Cocking an eyebrow at Rune, he shakes his head again, slower. "Fuck off." A vague jut of his jaw at Gabriel. "ThunderOak. Athro Fianna Galliard. Don't know the other one."
(gabe)
He stood for a moment then slowly turned towards James...~Yep... cookie cutter~ he thought as he moved a few steps to stand next to James.
Thick irish accent....
"May the Blessings of Gaia be with ye. What news have ya found out lad?"
(gabe)
Hearing the rough Intro from Decker he turns to face the youth...~Always when you turn to take care of something.~ he thought, waiting for the responce from the female to Deckers intro.
(james)
dark brown eyes glance up, at the approach, a breath taken to say something, but then at the turn away, he quiets
okay, chuckles a bitdamn used to being either unknown or made to wait
some things don't necessarily change once outside the city, do they(rune)
"Charmed," Rune replied, her painted red lips still curled into a patent smirk. Then she offered her own introduction, a la Decker: short, sweet, and straight to the damn point. "Rune. Fostern. Glasswalker. Ahroun."(decker)
It was something of a toss-up, of course, whether Decker's brand of short was necessarily sweet.Actually, it wasn't a toss-up. It's a certainly: his brand of short is definitely not sweet. There's very little sweet about Decker. "Drummerboy," he raises his voice just enough for James to hear: a casual sort of contempt. Nothing personal. Was just hard for him to express anything but disdain, contempt and boredom. And occasionally murderous rage. "The hell you doin' so far from the city?"
(gabe)
"Aye..."He looked at her from top to bottom then back up once more. She was the strength of the city alright,... everything he had learned from a young upstart to now a Don in his own right. Glass Walkers were a tricky breed unto themselves... treading the line on both sides of the fence.
Nodding to her gently the formality was over. Turning to face james once more fully once more he continued.
~Yep... cookie cutter it was~ he thought before continuing.
"Go on lad... I am eager for your report."
(rune)
Urrah, she thought to herself, the country cousins' usual curse a badge of pride in her book. Her dark gaze is direct, and challenging, and though she's not exactly feral, she's primal enough to avoid meeting Gabriel's eyes directly.Urrah, of course, with the stink of the city on her: cigarettes and drugs, perhaps, asphalt and gasoline, Thai take-out and manufactured scent.
"Might as well as what the fuckin' hell I'm doin' so far from the city," Rune snorts, glinting dark eyes flashing back to him like a whip. "Maybe he hiked his ass all the hell way out here to meet some ungrateful sonuvabitch."
(starling)
Cleaning up after the meal, then repeating the process of loading the basket and hauling all the stuff back up into the tree house. 99% of the time she was alone and was starting to feel like a hermit out here.(decker)
Decker's heavy grey gaze lingers on Rune for a wordless moment. Then it drifts off to the side, skimming the treeline as he sucks his molars in thought."Wanted you to meet my tribemate, Erik. He left though." Back to her: flicker up, flicker down. "Bring me a joint?"
(starling)
Lighting one of the small candles in a jar, knowing it would extinquish itself sometime in the night. Settling down on the air mattress for the night.
(james)"Well, I was going to pick a fight but it seems you got to it first."
smiled, easily, at Decker, the contempt wasn't taken personally
when you're what he is, you get used to it
comes with the territory"James, Cliath, Gnawer, Ahroun."
bottom of the totem pole, allright, in every sense
but his attention returns right quick to the Athro, and a hand reaches into one of the many pockets - he came prepared - pulling out a random assortment of clippings, newspaper articles, and even a computer printout or four"We went back a little over two months, to the beginning of August, cause that's when the barking chain started sounding a little funny..... it's mostly strings of events that are happening too close to each other to seem random." well, depends on how paranoid you are "but the most interesting was this one, the shark attack early August, right off Atlantic City. I spoke to some.... friends.... and got snippets of the report, they're summed on this sheet here. That bite wound leftover doesn't look like a shark...."
even if the authorities classified it as one
the sketch compared to a few encyclopedia photocopies points to something that's a cross between crocodilian and canid(decker)
Swinging a half-suspicious glare at James, Decker grunts. "Decker, Cli--" scratch that, "--Fostern, Modi." Etiquette all taken care of, he listens to the two converse for a moment. He was lost, looking between the elder and the younger."Fuck's this all about?"
(rune)
"Ouch, Decker," she smirks, eyes flashing briefly to James. "Seems someone else has your goddamned number, too. Gonna hafta change your modus operandi if you wanna surprise anyone out here. Maybe you could start wearing more pink. It's the new orange, doncha know."Shifting forward, Rune arches forward and squeezes her hand into the from left pocket of her tight leather pants. She pulls out a small ziplocked bag and a packet of rolling papers, then tosses them to Decker with a half-assed grin. "...course I do. You know I got yer back."
(gabe)
The brow of the larger man grows close as the scouwl of anger and rage begins to ripple up through him... then as soon as it rises it falls away once more."Aye... thank ye little brother. If you hear anything else you know where to find me."
Turning to face Decker and Rune he moved back into the small clearing.
"Decker is here upon my request and is welcome to these wood. As for the show of force, I can only say Take care in the future lad."
Casting his gaze over to Rune he looks to the bad and then to her...
"Tred well the bounds of kith and kin and whence the road of blood and pride intersect there shall be the truth of everlasting stone and steel....
"Welcome to the Wyld young GlassWalker. Be at peace and protect the mother of which you partake."Turning he begins to move off toward the trees, pausing he looks back for a moment.
"In other words lass, don't get so fucked up you wreck my park and my brethren."
Turning he walks out into the night, shifting back into lupus where he belongs and rushes out over the ground to a purer smelling place to cleanse the evenings grime from his senses.
(decker)
Scowling - Rage still running high - he shoots the Glass Walker a sullen glare, catching the bag out of the air, fumbling the packet of papers. Cursing as they scattering all over the ground, he reaches after them and stuffs them haphazardly back into their packet - wrinkled, dirty, trailing a pine needle or two.Rolling himself a joint, he doesn't bother glancing up when addressed. Couldn't expect a Fianna to understand the necessity of battle, after all. Not a Galliard, not even an Athro Galliard.
Ducks his head, licks the joint shut. Sinking down on his back (much better. Much less pressure on his gut) with a groan, he lights up against the sky, then rolls his head sideways. Eyes narrowed in thought, suspicion, or perhaps against the smoke, he nods at James.
"The hell was that all about, Gnawer?"
(rune)
"Jesus fuck," Rune laughs. Or rather snorts, in a most unladylike fashion, before stalking across the clearing to take the joint from Decker's bloodstained fingers after he has sucked in a nice lungful of the intoxicant. "What a fuckin' arrogant popinjay."She breathes in a hit and, holding the smoke, offers the joint to James.
(james)
there's a nod as Gabriel takes his leave, but that easy smile turns back to Decker"Well, Gabriel sent me to do some research in the city for him, Get, you just heard what I came back with on the first round."
though the offered joint brings him from the tree he was near and back towards them right quick
he's beginning to like people in these parts
hit, hold, crouch to pass back to Decker
exhale(decker)
That actually tore a snicker out of Decker. Folding his now-empty hands behind his head, he exhales smoke and notes the he could see his intestines poking out of the rapidly (well...relatively, at least) closing wound on his stomach. Fucking sick. Resist Pain was a wonderful thing, though."Was just makin' sure you did trash his hole, Rune," he murmurs, smirking down the length of his body at her, since she was standing somewhere near his feet. "You don't want him to piss on your stereo, he don't want you to breathe on his trees."
Turning his attention to James, then, there's a palpable drop-off in warmth - if you could call what he showed Rune warmth. Familiarity's probably a better word. "Research what?"
(rune)
"Course, I dunno what I was expectin'," Rune shrugs faintly, and (yes, still) her lips are curled into a luminous smirk. Listening to the exchanges between Decker and James, she nevertheless apparently feels honorbound to keep up a certain level of chatter to fill in the holes. Probably she was supposed to be a goddamned Ragabash, but was too mean to wait an extra week or two. Or too damn stubborn to pop on out when she was supposed to. "since Athro Fianna Ragabash is sorta the definition of arrogant popinjay. Probably have a picture of him in the OED next to that particular combination. Probably made up the goddamned words to describe that particular combination."
(james)
"The problem you have with the Choromaniacs in these parts."now, he's sure he's going to be told to fuck off in not so nice a words, but he's a Hood
and this guy's bleeding and leaking and dripping all over the place
and while it's slowing and hearling he's still poking out in places
and dammit the Gnawer can't help it"Want that stitched so you don't fall out of your skin should you have to get up and take a piss in the next three hours before it closes itself?"
seems he was only a few days shy of a Ragabash as well
he knows Decker's fully capable of healing himself
but it would just make it easier(decker)
"Galliard," mutters Decker, correcting Rune because he was feeling annoying enough to do it."Chorowhat?" - raising his head a half-inch, frowning, while he reaches for the joint. Then, lowering it back down, shutting his eyes while he takes a drag in, he snorts. Smoke puffs out of his nostrils. "Fuck no. I'm fine."
And he wasn't passing the joint, either. If Rune wanted it, she could come and get it.
(runs)
"Galliard," Rune snorts back at Decker. She'd been waiting for him to pass the damn joint, but when he does, she crosses and takes it from him. "You're a fuckin' bogart, Decker. Someday some pissy little pothead's gonna hafta teach you a fuckin' lesson."Blinking mildly, she slants her attention back to James and echoes Decker, a little more precisely for that extra annoyance factor. "Choromaniacs?"
(decker)
No reply. Just a middle finger, before he too turns his attention back to James.
(james)
"Choromaniacs."nodding, dreads swinging foreward as he stays in the comfortable crouch
he offered, it's all Mother Rat needs to know, and the refusal will be remembered
Gaia forbid anyone notice a Get in need"Maniacal Dancers, in a nutshell."
we'll forgo the actual explination, it'll be easier
"Barking Chain was talking about it all the way up to New York.... it's how I heard about it. I'm down scouting these parts."
(decker)
Wordless, he just looks James up and down and grunts. Not too impressed-sounding, either. Let Rune play the diplomat - which she wasn't, but this was one of her people. Bone Gnawers, Glass Walkers...who could tell the difference?(rune)
Probably the Glasswalkers and Bone Gnawers could. Rune sucks in another hit off the joint, and passes it off to James. She shoots a glance to Decker, then rolls her eyes.When she's passed off the joint, she squeezes her hand into her left back pocket and pulls out a business card. "Hear anything juicy, I wouldn't mind a call. Can't let the twits have all the fun."
(james)
more appropriately, any educated person could
the joint taken in one hand, the card pocketed with the other"But of course, the more the merrier, I say."
winked from beneath tophat's floppy brim, lazily hitting the joint before handing the almost roach back to Rune with a smile - not Decker, would be rude to make him sit up to reach for it, and all
and one can never be rude when one's outranked
right?
right.....(natalie)
Whoooooooooop!
Whoooooooooop!
WhooooooooooP!Uh-oh someone's alarm is going off.
(....Will the Driver a purple Mettalic BMW please go out and move your vehicle?)
(decker)
Still wordless, the Modi's ocean-grey eyes move between the two. He starts to arch his back in a stretch, then thinks better of it as a zinging reminder of pain - muted, greatly, but still there - runs a marathon up to his heart and down to his toes."Pass the joint, Rune," says Decker, quietly. Then, raising his head, "That your alarm?"
(rune)
"Cool," she murmurs in reply, hitting remnants of the joint absently before walking it back over to Decker. She actually bends down and hands the damn thing to him. Yeah, she loves waiting on him hand and foot. "You're gonna hafta burn your lily white fingers, Decker. I always come prepared, but I couldn't fit my fuckin' forceps into these fuckin' pockets."...and then the alarm goes off, screeching through the forest like a fuckin' bashee, shivering through the treetops and scattering all manner of small mammals peacefully sleeping wherever the fuck it is they sleep.
"Hell yeah, that's my alarm," Rune growls, something like a snarl twisting her features into parody of her usual easygoing smirk. She's not hard to get along with, is Rune, but she does have a few rules. Numbers one, two and three: keep your hands off her fuckin' car.
It's astounding, how fast she rises, how quickly she finds her stumbling path back through the piney woods at a groundeating lope, Mahnolo Blahniks still dangling from three fingers of her left hand.
(james)
a brow lifts at the alarm (now that's something he hasn't heard for awhile) but he doesn't really move
course.... that does leave him here all alone with Mr. Charming
fantasticso maybe he does move
back over to the tree holding up his pack
pulling out the bag of jerky
(decker)
Welll.......not really. Groaning as the Glass Walker goes charging off, Decker gets to his feet - slower, hairier, and in this form, quite a bit uglier. Tucking the joint beneath his teeth, he pulls his shirt all the way off and wads it up, holding it against his stomach as he ambles after Rune. Save her from the big bad thieves. Save the big bad thieves from her. Help her kick their ass. Whatever.
In case it was one of the regular people, holding a shirt in front of his gut would probably seem slightly less strange than a badly bloodstained shirt. He'd just have to hope the darkness had settled enough that the red running down the front of his pants goes unnoticed.
(james)
beautiful
that worked out quite nicelyand the young Gnawer shoulders the pack, following the trail back to the road at a much slower rate than even the Get leaving a nice little bloodtrail to follow - it's not his fight, and he's already witnessed one tonight, car jackers in the middle of nowhere are not his problem
getting back to the city is
(natalie)
Eyes slide over the car with unabashed appreciation (..what West-bumble-fuck-country-ass would drive something like this..) Perhaps she is deaf, because the alarm certainly doesn't alter her movements any...A smile slides across her features, maybe she could hitch a ride back to the city--very few knew their ways around syllables like Natalie.
Kinda the reason she's stuck out here to begin with.
(...but that is a story for another time, gentle reader.)(rune)
"Get the fuck off ...my goddamned car." Rune snarls the words six or seven minutes later, when she comes abrest of her car. Hiking in had taken her fifteen or twenty minutes, maybe even a half-hour, stumbling and cursing the whole way. Of course, she hadn't wanted to go that way, so she probably had made the whole trip more difficult on herself than otherwise.Natalia hears about half the exclamation - the latter half - for by then Rune has come alongside her baby (sporting a hairy new growth) and grabbed the headphones off Natalie's head in lieu of something else. It was the better part of valor, alright, since she really wanted to pick the girl up and sling her into the watery tangle of weeds and trash in the culvert there.
It's not generosity of spirit that stays her hand. She's afraid of scratching the finish.
(natalie)
"Huh--What the Fuck?"As the headphones are snatched off her head she leaps after them-- pausing midlaed to cover her ears. Wait whjats going on?
"..what all that noise?"
(decker)
The 'hairy growth' stays back, shoulder thrown against the nearest tree, half-slouching, half-seen in the gloom. Still holding his messy shirt against the hole in his stomach like a man with a bellyache.He didn't have a bellyache, but when the gift wore off, he was going to have a lot worse than that. He just watches.
(rune)
"The hell d'ya think it is?" Rune grunts, sharply. "It's my fuckin' car alarm. That's private property you're perchin' on, and I'll thank you to keep you ass off'a it."Soon as the girl slipes from the hood, Rune lets go of the headphones, allowing them to fly/fall back towards their owner. Once more, she ventures into the pockets of her too-tight jeans and pulls out a remote control the size and width of a credit card, then shuts off the alarm.
(james)
his approach is off to the side a bit
amazingly quiet compared to the caterwauling up near the car, and making damn sure he doesn't invade any personal space when walking right past Decker (not wanting to test the span of his reach or patience), chewing on a piece of jerky, hitting the road and.... another quick check with Mother Rat.... making a..... left
it's a long walk into town
shouldn't dilly dally anymore
milkshake's a waitin'(natalie)
Silence can be deadly.
[..sorta like a slit wrist.]And that gawdawful noise--is thankfully stopped by the owner. Dark brown eyes flash toward Rune the edge of her mouth sliding up a bit. The girl is dressed in jeans and a tank--general bumblefuck attire.
"..my bad. Great wheeels though..hard to find anything -comparable- 'round here, yanow?"
(rune)
Rune leans over the hood, examining the finish for nicks or scratches in the failing light. Right about now, she's pretty oblivious to the rest of the world. Inky black, her hair falls across Rune's pale cheek as she studies the finish. When it comes to her car, self-absorbed doesn't even begin to describe her.Soon as she's satisfied that no lasting harm has been done, Rune straightens, grabs a pack of Sobrainie's, and leans back against the hood lightly: proprietarial, probably even territorial.
"Note to self. Next time travel takes me to Hicksville, I will rent an appropriately broken down pick-up," she says, in apparent response to Natalie, as she chooses a neon green cigarette and lights up. She drags off the smoke long and hard, lancing her ballooning sense of aggression and bleeding it into the cool night air as she exhales.
(natalie)
Its that New York vibe.She's defnatly a ways from home though a small tattood Glyph on her upper arm tell alot more about her Italio-yorker accent that her inflection does.
"So like.. you heading into the city soon?"
(rune)
Dark eyes flashing from the glyph, to Decker, to James' retreating form to the little two-seater roadster."The fuck do I look like, girl," Rune snorts, shaking her head and exhaling another cloud of smoke. "...some goddamned cabbie just a-waitin' for you to come along so i can have the privilege of drivin' your ass home? What the hell are you doin' out here, anyway?"
(decker)
And to think, she was the friendly one. Casual, as relaxed as anyone carrying around that much anger could be, Decker glances down at his joint to notice it had burned down to the point where it was singing the hairs on his knuckles. Shifting, he grinds it out on the bark of the tree, red sparks dying to nothing.Rune glances at him. He's not looking at her. He'd looking down, one hand pressing cloth to gash, the other picking at a scab on his shoulder. He glances up just in time to shrug. He could neither see the glyph from this distance nor figure out from Rune's less-than-eloquent glances that there was a glyph there. And, considering no one would mistake him for human at the moment up close and personal, he wasn't going to chance coming much closer.
(natalie)
A hand slides through the mane of hair rather sheepishly (..oh the truth is subjective.) Toungue moistens lips briefly and she takesa step back to include ALL in the story..Fish Tale.
[..i hyad one as BIG as--]"See I was out with Vinnie, you ever heard of Vinnie the Lamb? " She shakes her head toward Rune as holding her in girlish confession, "Such a dick." She shrugs sheepishly to James and Decker. "So I says, Yo Vinnie there ain't no way I'm gonna sleep with you--and he says well then youcan walk home.."
Shrug.
(plead. plead. plead.)"...I chose option b."
(decker)
"Vinnie 'the Lamb' lives all the way out here?" First words out of the big hulking shadow leaning against the tree. Rough, rasping voice; hard and disdainful.(rune)
"All the damn Glasswalkers in the City as gullible as that?" Rune snorts skeptically. "...no wonder the place is a shithole."Course, pretty much anyplace, these days, qualifies as a shit hole, and the plantations of condos in North Jersey are somewhere in the neighborhood of the last circle of hell, so her disdain is for the city is a bit... ironic. Moronic. Take your pick, pick your poison.
(nat)
Something about him makes her nervous. She not sure what but-- Her gaze shifts to Rune now and then to Deckerher head twissting a bit to the left..."Nah, we went to atlantic City for seafood then out here to look at the stars, you know."
Slicker than oil on water.
(decker)
A flicker of the grey eyes up. Not that she could see in this lighting. "Overcast," he points out.(nat)
"You sayin I'm lyin.."Those narrowed eyes shift to Rune.
(nat)
"Yeah.. well I didn't say we wasn't makin out or nothin jus' you know--I'm not puttin out for that buttonman greaseball."She sniffs audibly her hands folding her chest.
"..you gonna help or aint'chya?"
(rune)
"You drive, Decker?" Rune asks, slanting a glance in his dirction. "Or do you need a ride?"(decker)
"What a fuckin' saint," responds the Modi, nudging off the tree now that it seemed obvious Rune had fallen for it, hook line and sinker. Running his free hand over the back of his neck, he adds, "I'm good."(rune)
"Yeah, fuck you too. Sainthood's exactly what I'm goin' for. Probably why I took your ass in. But if you wanna get your application in, you might wanna find your truck and pick that James up. He can't be too far away yet." Rune stomps out her cigarette on the pavement beneath her feet, then bends and picks up the filter. She glances at Natalia briefly, then shrugs in defeat. "I'll give you a ride to the train station. You oughtta be able to catch a train into the city from there."(nat)
Something about her.She was pretty (..okay beautiful) in that very arrogant -don't-I-know-it kinda way, but it just didn't add up quite right. Uf she was out on a date why was she carrying headphone, how come she was dressed so casually? All these things fall by the wayside of those features, that voice. Something about her demeanor made ou WANT to believe her--oh but I was a lie.
She's nearly bouncing in place.
"..good lookin' out Deck."
(nat)
"Killer."And with that she drop a wink to Rune half skipping to the otherside of the car--Time to blow this lame ass joint. Who was Joey to tell her she needed to stay outta trouble.
Brothers.
(rune)
"Touch anything and I'll rip your fuckin' hand off," the woman warns, narrowing her eyes and flashing a brief, dark glance at Natalie as she unlocks the doors the climbs into the driver's side. "Later, Decker."(decker)
A shadow of a wince. Gift was wearing off. Fuckin' stupid wolf. Squinting, "What?" - to Natalie, though he doesn't bother to wait for an answer. "Whatever," he mutters at Rune, turning and moving off in the vague direction James had vanished into.He catches up maybe ten minutes later, which is pretty good considering everything. Falling into step beside the other Ahroun, he keeps the pressure on his gut and nods at James. "Headin' for the city?"
(james)
he wasn't that far, only strolling, longcoat hanging from the Alice straps swaying with every step, though there's surprise in brown eyes when the footsteps approach from behind, nodding with that trademark easy smile"If my sense of direction's right..... jerky?"
tilting the half eaten bag open end towards the Get
(nat)
"Yeah, Later (Schmuck!)"Figers wiggle against air in the fakest kind of wave as she allows her form to settle into the passenger seat.
"You wish is my command, lady driver. I'm Natalie by the way."
(rune)
"Rune," she responds, somewhat surprised at just how short she is with the girl. As the few folks she'd met around here quickly came to learn, Rune's a motormouth, most of the time. Turning over the ignition, she reflects on this, and settles on the compressed kernel of irrational anger still lodged deep and heavy in her gut. The moon was passing, falling, fading, but it hadn't been long since it was high and full in the sky. Swallowing hard against the distasteful thing that such unreasoning rage can be, Rune puts the car in gear and pulls out. As they hit the road, Rune lifts her chin in Natalie's general direction, "...that glyph for real?"(nat)
"You seen'em before? My Dad used to be real big on La Familia and that jive."She IS a motormouth. All the time non-stop and most it was always deriding someone or something. Natalie allowed very few things in life to please--things were simpler that way.
(rune)
"Yeah I seen 'em," Rune snorts, shaking her head. The inky strands of her freshly dyed hair flare and settle around her pale face, darker than the night around them. "I'm fuckin' one of 'em. Wanna know if you know what the fuck it means beyond La Familia."(nat)
One eyebrow lifts and then another."Your a Gambino too?"
There is a tremulous nervousness in that voice, had joe sent her. (..or worse.) What if Joey hadn't sent her? Lips twitch briefly and she moves closer to the door.
"It mean the old country or some shit--Tradition."
(rune)
"Fuckin' hell," she snorts, shaking her head again. The highbeams cut through the misty darkness, defining their twisting path through the boggy woods. "Shouldn't let people run around with shit like that on 'em if they ain't even gonna tell you what the fuckin' hell it means."Mouth tightening, Rune flickers a glance toward Natalie, then returns her eyes to the road muttering under her breath. "....jeeeesus, fuckin', christ."
(decker)
A grim shake of his head. "No." Then - possibly only because Rune had suggested it, and some part of him put Rune up on the totem pole above him - he adds, "Need a lift?"(nat)
"Its a justa fuckin Tattoo relax. We all got'em when we were little--So we'd never forget where we came from.. I'm just as fuckin Italian as an goombah off the boat."Great, she got into the car with a mad woman.
(..she's JUST plain lucky.)
(james)
that..... almost causes the Gnawer to stop in his tracks, almost, but it sure slows him down, brow lifting under that floppy brim in the that's the last thing I expected to hear out of you sort of way
course, doesn't mean he'll pass up the chance"I'd appreciate that."
(decker)
"Goin' there myself," adds Decker under his breath, as though to explain this sudden (apparent) courtesy.Three hundred, five hundred yards down the road, Decker wants to know, "Where you live?" He wasn't making small talk; he needed to know this so he'd know where to head.
(rune)
"It's not just a fuckin' tattoo, you little twit. It's got fuckin' meanin'. It says somethin' 'bout who you are, an' if folks see it, they expect you to fuckin' know what the hell it means," Rune snorts again, as her fingers contract and relax reflexively upon the smooth leather of the steering wheel. "'n if you don't know by now, you wouldn't fuckin' believe it anyway. Jesus Christ. No wonder the world is goin' to shit. I can't believe they gave you that fuckin' tattoo without tellin' you what it meant. Go home and ask your dad about it. See if he has the fuckin' balls to tell you."
(nat)
"Fuck you, He told me everything he NEEDED to tell me. Stop the fuckin car--crazy bitch."And if he's dead, well thats part of the job.
(james)
he can't help the smile, it's sheilded for the odd reason he could realistically get smacked for it, but there's a genuine edge to it - he honestly appreciates the offer
shoulders rolling beneath the Alice pack straps"Where did I live or where am I headed? I'll go wherever you'll take me, I just need to end up in Atlantic City at some point in the future. Once I'm there I'll find a place dry enough to sleep the night."
smile softening a bit, almost sheepish
he sorta thought it was obvious (or at least Tribally assumed) he was homeless
perhaps the recent bath threw things off a bit(natalie)
"..you have a fuckin' Ouija board Yuo can call him yourself."She's shaking why would she let some stranger piss her off like that already she's fumbling with the lock on the door. Her hands clumsy in thier harried (-frenzied-) motion.
(rune)
The answer drains some of the infected stuff from the abcess of Rune's anger. Her shoulders relax faintly, and her features smooth perceptibly. Slowing the car, she continues almost conversationally, "...how old were you when he died?"(decker)
A sideways glance, just a flicker. "Oh." A pause. Then he says, "I crash at Rune's. 'S in AC."Decker had the sort of eyes that are narrowed even at night. Lazy eyes, but keen; eyes accustomed to half-lidding against the light of an Alabama gulf summer. Squinting didn't seem to help there the way it did against desert light, which is harsh and flat. The light of his youth was all-permeating, like the humidity.
You squint and you get a headache. You half-close your eyes, you sit back with a cold one on a hot day, you don't move much like the gators in the swamps, and maybe you'll survive the deep south's summer.
Slowing, he peels the shirt off his gut and studies the wound. Wasn't bleeding anymore. Was still flared open like a filleted fish, but deep inside, where flesh was beginning to knit rapidly, there was a dark, ugly clot - the sort that shouldn't form for days, if not weeks. Seeing that he was all plugged up, he un-balls the shirt and tugs it back on. Red splotches on white, all over a hairy Glabro. Modern art.
(nat)
"Six. Not that its any of your buisness,Rune"If thats your REAL name.
"...would you please stop the car before I commence fucking it up?"
Forced calm.
(rune)
It wasn't her real name, though considering the vanity pate on her BMW - R U NE1 - it well might be."Well that explains that," Rune sniffs, flatly. She glances up, to catch a glimpse of Natalie reflected in the rearview mirror, and slows the car until it comes to a rolling stop on the narrow gravel shoulder of the road, which barely aspires to be two-laned. "If you wanna know what the fuck he didn't get a chance to tell you, I'll oblige. Course, I don't think you'll fuckin' believe me, and I don't think it'll make life any easier for you, but it might be useful next time someone sees that tat and assumes you know what you are."
Shrug, and a faint one, as she clicks the electric lock, unlocking the passenger-side door.
(james)
that easy, nearly care-free smile returns, framed by the hat and light brown dreads"Good, then you won't be going out of your way."
on asphalt - or at least the edge of it - there's a difference in the boyman, he may not walk the walk, or even talk the talk of the jungle, but once you throw concrete into the mix his steps are dead silent, even the sway of the long coat off his pack makes no sound - the rebar drumsticks don't even rattle
the boy can blend when he's in the city, with that swinging stroll
covering the blocks from one end of the city to the other was just a walk in the parkjust.... too bad he sticks out like a sore thumb against the nice treelined backdrop that's still hanging with us
(decker)
"Not much," he corrects. Mr. Polite and Friendly.Decker doesn't belong anywhere. Not here, not in the city. Everywhere he went, his rage flamed like a brand. People skirted around him.
Posted by james at September 25, 2002 12:00 AM
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