drums-on-skulls: .09.27.02.

September 27, 2002

.09.27.02. - unholy [pack]

[atlantic city boardwalk]

(james)
it's the picture of a man paused in motion, frame settled upon a turned over bucket, tattered longcoat folded into a neat tailbone preserving pillow, second-hand service boots complimenting nicely the surplus black BDUs that are, get this, beneath a faded gray surplus t-shirt..... now that moves.... probably because of the heavy tribal beat thumped from the steel barrel turned steel drum in this street corner charade

light brown dreadlocks bounce with the beat, his eyes mostly closed - but that amazingly easy grin for some reason still sticks around

whether it's widening for the occasional coinage or bill dropped into the overturned patchwork tophat beside his boot, or perhaps something deeper, something caught up in the rhtyhm that no mere mortal could understand

the cloth based rebar drumsticks move in a vision thing tapdance all their own, trapped flashing in the hands of one homeless vagabond who seems like some gutterball rank got caught up in the wrong derelict carnival at the wrong time

maybe he plays for the money
maybe he plays for himself
maybe....

(lucian)
' why don't you find somone your own age, Kid?'

Its the age thing, everytime.

"But-but Baby.. age ain't no-thang'" He's already lost, but hey, pity sex is better than no sex and right? She's walking faster and all of a sudden thier's a sountrack to this sorry picture. "Eh?" Head turns and the wiry boy is drawn in like the rest of the passersby...

Don't you know percussion is primal.

(james)
tis otherwordly, isn't it
like he isn't even there

and maybe he's not, if you perchance could happenstance the intricacies in the tune bashed from what was once only a lowly steel barrel igniting a vagrant's dreams of warmth now turned super-tuned drum of divine devotion, inspiration

and maybe a little magick too

street magick
and those eyes finally open with a wink aimed at a pretty girl, frame so deceptively muscular lifts from the bucket and now the rhythmic thumps being in earnest, doubling, tripling and, even, every once in a while skipping a beat just for flair, just for flavor - just to show what the boy man street performer can really do
it's energy
it's passion
it's primal

(lucian)
She stops at the wink (… magnetic-pulse..) her bones seeming to shout under her skin some remembrance of tune (All.my.friends.are.skeletons) her mind cannot understand only the pull-drag of its vibration only the need to stand and watch…

“Well roll me up in a shit-taco.”

Mysteriously ever-present match produced and scratched from the heel of well worn (--they were my Pa’s.) workman boots to burst to fiery life as it kisses cancer stick perched between the boy’s lips. One puff exhaled towards the drummer as a single grimy hand settles apon the woman’s waist.

“..Ole’ James and I go waaay back.”

(james)
way back - a full twenty-four hours
but a lot can happen in that time
it shows in the itching brand on his chest, hidden beneath thin gray cotton
the indigenous man trapped in the clothing of this concrete jungle

like everything primitive - one must progress
and so does the urban tribeman caught in a persistance of time and memory which ebbs and flows from the pulse of muscles tendons hands and rebar against unforgiving steel until there's a climax that - just as with anything - comes entirely too soon

a silence soon heaving from the make-shift drum thick as the breath from a charger
all he has left to offer those gathered is the easy smile which never seems to abandon him
and the gaping mouth of the overturned tophat which begs for spare change

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, that concludes our performance..... please join us again for regular shows at 2, 5, and midnight, every other Sunday, six times a month....."

(lucian)
And his hands slides lower settling firmly on the the woman’s left cheek before (KAPOW!-just like you’d imagine) a hand slides out to punch him right in the jaw-(’Get your hands Off of me you dirty little punk!’)-Did she say anything? Everything went white for a few seconds and shaking his head he turns to james with a shrug like, go figure.

(james)
as the crowd ebbs away, the overturned hat is picked up and change sorted into various collection plates of his pockets - there's enough for a good meal here, bought, unscrounged - easy grin sliding into a slight chuckle

"I take it the lady friend just wasn't your type, right Luc?"

(lucian)
"Nah she ws after the diz-Zick, you know--she was just scared."

And inhales another long drag of the newport leaning against the wall beside the older man--free hand absently reaching up to pull the brim of his hat a bit lower.

"You know.." THe slow exhalation says far more than the words themselve--you'd think being a hero and all-around savior of the world would get you a little coochie.

You'd be wrong.

(james)
"Ooooh, one of those types then."

scared
and with a good left hook
....right.

humor the boy, Jamey, humor him
and the tattered trench picked up, slung through a webset cast off that also fits the rebar drumsticks and makes everything quite portable, glyph stitch tophat returned to its perch upon the light brown dreads, and a curious eye finds itself back on the youth

"Out here trawling or was there a higher purpose?"

(lucian)
“There’s a higher purpose than getting laid?”

(…and you didn’t tell me?)

His eyes widen a bit as she takes the taller man, the corner of his mouth twitching briefly before he sucks in another drag of nico-cancerous-dream blue eyes finding dark brown ones-not in challenge but in surprise.

(decker)
"Ain't you too young to smoke?"

Growled from right beside Lucian's ear, those words, as a hand reaches out and snatches the cigarette out of Lucian's mouth. Popping it right into his, Decker moves past, slow as a coiling constrictor. You thought he was eternally pissed before. Slumping heavily back against the wall, deceptively lazy, arms folded and legs kicked out in front of him, Decker takes a puff off of Luc's cigarette and then tosses it down. Foot comes down on it. Grind. Grind. Grind. Smokey Bear says only you can prevent forest fuckin' fires.

(james)
oh.... to be sixteen again

there's a wink, and a nod, and if you're a good boy you may one day find out
deep eyes beneath the tophat brim watching the slow prowl to the designated place on the wall
the webset slung over a shoulder, drumsticks sticking up like strange antenna, the trenchcoat a mysterious tali

oh, both the charming ones tonight, it seems

"Evenin' Decker."

(decker)
Decker reaches up behind his neck, pops his vertebrae, and grunts to James while Lucian wanders off to (try to) pick up another girl. "...got a headache just watchin' him." Fuckin' Skalds. Always about sex for them.

(james)
the amusement never ends
or at least he's learned to make it seem that way
make life out as a game, and you might stand a chance at winning
what's the point of festering
there's no fun in it
but that's neither here nor there

a glance after the boy before his weight shifts to begin down the walk, he was earning money to buy dinner, he's not about to wait around until the joints close
figuring Decker will follow, or go on his merry (ha!) way

"He'll either find there's a higher purpose, or the joys of STDs."

he could smell the disease on her
obviously, the boy hadn't learned that yet
nice surprise, if anything

(erik)
Dressed in a ragged, black t-shirt and that same old olive-drab army jacket, ugly Erik approaches. Never one of those good looking kids, he has added two impressive scars to his face. One, long and sinious, travles down his face to disapear under his shirt. The other, two thick slashes and one lighter, pull his face down on one side, forming his mouth into a perpetual sneer.

(decker)
He doesn't budge from his place by the wall, that hand behind his neck drifting to massage his temple now. I'll teach you wisdom, says Eagle. Helluva fuckin' way to teach him wisdom: piss him off perpetually.

"Get me a cheeseburger." James doesn't have to tell him he was going to get food. Decker knew. They were packmates, after all. "Pay you when you get back."

Tall dark and ugly shows up. Decker nods upward at him, vaguely. Says nothing.

(erik)
Erik nods at decker and watches the passersby.

(decker)
Actually, Erik might find watching Lucian more interesting. The sixteen year old wannabe-stud is puttin' it on a pretty blonde girl (hey ma. What's your sign?) who's responding the same way the last two girls responded: walk faster, roll eyes toward sky, mouth twitching into that sort of exasperated oh-man-what-have-I-done-to-deserve-this grin.

Decker, back against the wall, lounging like some desert animal too far from the heat, watches the whole thing with some sort of apathetic disgust.

(james)
the sneering
the seething
the smiling

recent exit of the sexual

only missing the snide
oh, and the sonnefide

they'd be one big happy family, now wouldn't they

the dreadlocked man in the tophat and army-surplus clothing isn't gone long, he made sure to set camp up at a very opportune place that was within a close proximity of the joint in question, the drumstick antenna hovering above the late-night crowd, coat slung through webbing dusting off his footsteps with each stride

bag holding not two, but five cheeseburgers
it was a damn good night

(erik)
He pays almost no attention to the kid, and less to Decker, though for different reasons. He just stands silently, arms crossed now, watching people walk by and try not to stare at him.

(decker)
On the return of the cheeseburger man, Decker shifts against the wall, straightening up, leaning sideways, arm outstretched. Adam reaching for the spark of life. Rough fingers, nails square and dirty, snag up the bag and reach in to pull out a burger. On second thought, he gets two. Hungry as a wolverine tonight. Tucking them under his arm, he tugs his battered wallet out on its chain and flicks it open, looking in dismay at the four rumpled one's and handful of coins inside.

"How much I owe you?"

(erik)
"It's on me." He reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a twenty.

(decker)
"No," snaps Decker immediately, flaring. A beat. Then a lower mutter, "Don't need no fuckin' charity. How much, James?"

(erik)
Erik looks at the Modi for a moment, as if he might say something about that, but then just shrugs. "Suit yerself." and stuffs the twenty back into his pocket.

(james)
those dreads dance when his head shakes
simply taking out his own burgers and holding the bag out to Erik
one left, he was gonna eat three.... but hey everybody eatz... even if it's just maraconi cheeze

"You'll owe me the day I can't earn my meal."

no charity
it's the Hood's way

(decker)
An uncomfortable pause, as the bristling quality to the air around Decker slowly fades and subsides. He glances between James, his burgers, his wallet, his alpha. Finally, a shrug. "All right."

Unwrapping the first burger after putting his wallet away, glances at Erik. "Don't need no one to take care o' me," he says, as though by way of explanation, or possibly even apology. Been a long time since he was in a pack, and he never did seem to stay in one for long. Sort of a lone wolf from the start, it took some getting used to.

(erik)
He takes the bag with the last burger, a baleful look in his eyes and a sneer twisting his face... Or is that a smile. Hard to tell on his face. He digs his hand into it, pulling out the last burger and unwrapping it.

He looks at his two packmates, thinking that they're damn worried someone's gonna think they need charity.

(james)
the uncomfortable silence
the strange looks
the worry

it's all lost

all hail the mighty gooey glory of the cheeeeezeburger
(aaaahhhmeeeeeen)

the boyman sinks to crouch against the wall, all but literally liquifying and inhaling the two burgers, it shows he often doesn't know where his next meal is coming from or how long it will be before someone tries to take it - and he is the lowest ranked of the gathered group

don't bother me, I'm eating.

(decker)
The first burger's gone before he tastes it. Crumpling up the wrapping, he leans over and stuffs it into Erik's empty bag. Settling back, he sinks an inch lower on the wall and unwraps his second. Was gonna enjoy this one.

The three eat quietly, not speaking, one watching the crowd with the shifting eyes of a predator; one sullenly glowering at nothing and everything; one totally absorbed in his food. There's a truce in breaking bread, bonds formed over dinner.

When the second burger's half finished Decker stops eating, wraps it up, and puts it in the thigh pocket of his baggy cargoes without explanation. His hands are oily, splotches of cheese on the fingers, and he licks them clean before wiping absently on his shirt, his pants. Great table manners, Decker had. New stains join the old. Whuffing a sigh of contentment(?), he shifts his weight against the wall and speaks for the first time in minutes. "We gonna do somethin' tonight?"

(erik)
He looks around for a place to buy a pop, and shrugs when Decker asks the inevitable question. "Sure. Whatcha wanna do?"

(james)
absorbed?
more like in rapture

a huge drippy cheeeezeburger with everything on it warm and fresh and juicy and crispy and made especially for you?

oh yea, there's a higher purpose than sex, my dear Lucian
when you have to do without everything, you learn
a belly filled and warm in the contently chewing semi-silence and company of packmates?
no woman could touch that
ever

and there's an odd sort of pleasure in the eyes that look up from their dreadlock frame
up for anything, now

(decker)
Left to himself, he'd go on the prowl for a fight, a whore. Come home staggering drunk at 4am, stinking of blood and alcohol and cheap perfume. Upright behavior. With packmates around, though, it was different. Wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad. Finally shrugging, he says the first thing that came to mind. "Look into that ritual murder shit James was talkin' bout?"

(erik)
Munches the last of his burger. "What? what murder shit?" Looks down at James.

(lucian)
Humph.

-Greatest share if they're in a space station.-

...well somethinmg like that. He figures there's none left for him, noyt that HE was hungry anyway and instead pulls aout another ciggarette ambling out of decker's reach before it is slowly lit and inhaled.

(james)
not even missing a beat

"The body they found in a field up North earlier in the month."

fingers rummage through the coat he's shifted a bit to reach
browsing a few piece of newspaper clippings withdrawn, then handing the chosen one on up and over
you don't think he'd give ThunderOak his only copy, do you?

(erik)
He grunts noncommittaly. "you think this is something needs our attention?"

(decker)
"Luc." Unbuttoning the flap of his cargoes, he pulls out the half-a-burger he had left and tosses it at Lucian, then lapses back into his moodying slouching against the wall. He tossed his idea out; was up to them to figure out what to do with it. There's a crack in the sidewalk under his feet, and he toes it until a chip of concrete comes off.

Just listening.
Just lounging.

Glancing up as the newspaper clipping's passed, he reads the headlines and little else. So many words made his eyes hurt, anyway. Decker never got past second grade.

(luc)
It was like a bad murder mystery. Only the punchline was he was one of the HEROS. Him, the kid voted most likely to be taser'ed by Angelina Jolie's bodyguard.(MMmmmmMMmm. But what a way to de-flea.)Okay, maybe not but IF he had graduated thats what he would have been voted.

There is moment of suprise as he snatches the burger out of the air. (Weird.) And unwrapping it he manages to scarf down bits and pieces of the burger between drags of smoke. He should be interested in the clipping but really--he's too busy doing an imitition of Decker.

Guess who's become the nEXT teen idol.
(decker)
At Erik's question, Decker moves his shoulders in his trademark shrug: slow as a southern summer, careless. Didn't care to decide; didn't really care what they decided. He was like a logitech mouse, a kodak camera: point and click. Point and shoot. Point and kill. And if it got too boring he'll wander off. Maybe take that sad little kid with him. Fuckin' Skald who did nothing but chase tail - it was shameful.

(erik)
Watches the people passing, staring them away a few extra feet, while also looking over the articles.

(james)
dreads dip in a bit of a nod, the other clippings tucked away

"Little folk up there spoke of some seriously wicked mojo when I was poking around last week.... seems like it was more than your regular Manson or Dahmer.... or even Fish."

muscle rolls his shoulders in a shrug, finally loosening from the performance earlier

"It stood out amongst the rest of the drivel sorta like all those grand openings in these parts a little while ago. I don't have the knowledge yet to do more than ask questions up North."

(lucian)
Half-Burger already finished.

"So like are we gonna get into the Mystery Machine and start searching for clues?"

The ciggarette sucked on for the last remaining bits of nicotine that stuffed itseldf near the filter. (Hell these things WERE expensive) The baseball cap with the chin attached manages to glance up to the older guys a brow raising briefly.

It's the fuckin' end of the world.
(...how serious do you want me to take this?)

(erik)
He hands the articles back. A'right. If thats what you fucks wanna do, thats what we'll do."

(james)
there's a nod, stretching to unfold from the crouch against the wall, the tophat adding another nine inches to his six-foot frame
he's game

but looks to Decker for transportation issues

(lucian - for decker)
His eyes shifted to the beat up radio with wheels, that sad across the street like some testament to poverty. It mighta been a classic, if it was taken care of at any point in its life--clearly the vehicle hadn't been and NO ONE was gonna start now.

"...needs gas."

(lucian)
"Pssscht."

He spit the ciggarette out and sighed folding wiry arms across his chest--the gangly boy looked like he needed a bath, some clean clothes--a mother. and canting his head to the side he rubs the side of his nose..

"BUT! Look at all the hotties out tonight!"

(james)
glancing between the two Get closest, he realizes something
the homeless Bone Gnawer is the cleanest of the three
reaching out to pat the youngest's shoulder

"They'll be there tomorrow night, Luc, but what we may find up North may not be."

there's a nod as Erik digs in his pocket again, handing over the cash, before leaving to go find what it is he needed to

"We've got 20 for gas, so let's go."

already waiting for a break in traffic and heading towards the truck
now is there any question why he didn't take the offered money earlier?
there are more important things

(decker)
Looking up, Decker rubs the tip of his nose and then straightens: swagger-like, one solid shoulder and then the other. "Yeah, all right," he agrees - a bit more amicable now that he wasn't hungry and had the possibility of something to do. "We takin' my ride?"

(james)
"Humph.. but we're a dying race."

He's already moving to the car. Duh--Like Homeless dreadman has a car, Or I can drive. Its funny how you see his shoulders start to swagger in genuine imitation Decker style.

"..either that or the Reebok Express."

(james)
"In more ways than one....."

murmured more to himself than the kid
he's mostly wanting to know what that body was
as well as what killed it
there's a method to that madness
he's sure of it

muscling the passenger door open and holding it for Luc
shotgun?
you bet

(decker)
(*transplants post*)

Lucian gets a skinpeeling glance from Decker. That's the second time the little punk imitated him tonight. Third time's going to cause problems.

Hopping into the driver's seat, the weight of the three boys making the springs squeak like a mattress in a charge-by-the-hour motel, Decker gets his keys out and starts the old Ford up. "Should wait for a while," he mutters, letting it idle. Start it up too fast and it'll stall a block down the road.

(rune)
It wasn't that hard to find Decker. Just look for the most decrepid vehicle around, and wait. He was sure to show up sometime.

The Z3 is a perfect little foil to Decker's truck, freshly washed despite the forecast rain, gleaming and sweet as all hell. Rune pulls up alongside the truck, leaning across the passenger seat and flickering her dark eyes over the trio. "...where you freaks heading?"

(decker)
Stopped at a red light, window always open (otherwise the smoke backing up into the truck will kill them all), Rune doesn't have to call very loud to be heard. Decker's seated up higher in the cab of his truck. Perfect. Glancing over, that careless you're-nothing-to-me look, he sneers down his nose at Rune. "Up yer ass, that's where."

His hand jiggles the stick shift; storm-grey eyes flicker up ahead on the road. He tongues out a piece of lettuce stuck between his teeth, cheek bulging out briefly, and adds, "...or come 'n see if you want."

Wobbling the stick in neutral, he revs the engine and drops Rune a sudden, sharkish grin.

(james)
tilts a bit, looking through the truck and at Rune
.... or at least the top of her head, from this angle
though he couldn't do much better than Decker's answer, honestly
his stuff tucked neatly in the space that remains beneath the seat
bandana pulled out to tie over his dreads
already ragged, the gypsy-fuck-do' just wouldn't, well, do

that Cochran up on the dashboard isn't simply for comfort's pupose
though it seems that way with the elbow half slung out the open window

he doesn't quite trust that shark grin caught in the side-view along with how the truck rattled on its last trip

(lucian)
He sighs.

One of those long exasperated motions of exhalation that makes everone around it take notice. "Green light." Thats all he says wondering why he didn't just sit in the bed of the pick-up truck.

(rune)
"Fuck off," Rune replies, rolling her eyes and snorting faintly, wondering why the hell she bothered to leave the house today. "I'm not risking my baby's paint job in a road race against that jalopy. You'd probably lose a door or something and fuckin'... fuckin'..."

The idea annoys her so much that she cannot even get anything else out. When the light turns and Decker pulls out into traffic, Rune pulls in behind him, following - a good ways behind.

(decker)
Decker snorts and shifts the car into gear with an unhealthy clank of metal on metal. With Rune trailing so far behind, it was hard to do anything to scare her - sudden stops threatening to crunch her baby's nose, things like that. So Decker drives with some modicum of safety, tracing a route from the boardwalk to North Jersey almost without thought. With James' directions, they get there in twenty or thirty minutes, though Decker parks the car seven blocks away.

Pulling up the handbrake and shutting off the engine, he gets out, evidently expecting the other two to do the same.

(james)
a sidelong glance at Lucian
because it's illegal
not that it would make a difference
but he'd rather not introduce himself to the local establishment

"Get on the 'Pike, head up to Allentown, it's about 15 miles north of there."

the rest of the ride is in relative silence, save the occasional direction or three, guiding them through the starlit wonders of empty fields and little farm houses either forgotten or crouching down so low they hope not to be noticed

"It's this way."

the trench and tophat left behind, but the sticks slung back over his shoulder, webset fitting and worn
he still feels creepy in these parts
not about to leave the weapons behind

just in case

and into the fields he goes
following what must be a mouse trail in the grass
and coming up on the spot from the side the authorities, coroner, news, and other official people didn't
slowing only when the trampled dip in the grass begins apparent in the darkness

it still feels creepy

(lucian)
He doesn't shiver. (--nit because he's not creeped out.) But because He can't STAND whiny sissy baby bitches. And so jaw tightening he follows james another ciggarette lit almost as SOON as the car is exited.

(james)
whirls at the first match strike
snatching the smoke out of Lucian's mouth

"In case you haven't noticed, your trampling around in a dry field of grass."

the cigarette crushed out in the Ahroun's fist
and handed back
(why waste)
before they're moving again

"You never asked, Rune."

and it's at the edge of the grass he stops
crouching

"They only found about 10% of the skeleton, the field was trampled clockwise for the most part..... you can find animal prints over there.... and there.... though there's no telling what's local and what's not."

looking up to the Modi across the way

"Anything from over there?"

(lucian)
"UHm.."

He's not sure what he's looking at OR for but he follows James if anything he could watch his back. As the crumbled ciggarette is settled in his palm he wheezes a bit, "Thanks."

(rune)
It's a great big field of... grass as far as Rune's concerned. She blinks blandly between James and Decker, arms crossed over her stomach, body cast in a lean, faintly bored slouch.

Eventually she starts walking again - or, sauntering, more like - and the heels and the uncertain ground and the darkness make her steps more mincing than otherwise. Gaze flickering about the edges of the field, noting whatever structures happen to be nearby absently.

(decker)
Looking down at the ground, he crouches again. Puts his hand down as though measuring, mutters under his breath, and draws his hand back. Thus easily crouched, wrists on knees, he pushes a hand back over the bristle of hair on his scalp. "Prints. Small dogs, maybe foxes. Might just be scavengin' animals." A move of his shoulders while his gaze drifts haphazard and lazy over the trampled circle. "Come see for yerself."

Then, breaking off, he gets to his feet, takes two steps sideways and drops. Pushing his hand into a long patch of grass, he flips it back to reveal the blood caked on the underside, not yet washed away by rain and wind. Pulling a handful of grass up, he sniffs at it, and then straightens to make sure no one was around.

Snapping into lupus then - wasn't going to take the chance of being seeing shifting through the forms, and a wolf in the city was still easier to explain than a monster - he pushes his wet nose into the handful of grass and sniffs again.

(james)
the bandana dips in a nod

"That's what the little folk were telling me..... mostly fourfoots that came through here, few crows, raven or three..... but nothing saw what happened that night. Nothing would come near the place."

all this spoken in a route around the crop circle - he's not about to step inside
(seriously wicked mojo)
middle of a field in the middle of the night, they're pretty safe save the teenagers in rut sneaking off for a quickie in daddy's crops
but with Lucian with them there's little chance of coming across any other teens
they like their space, don't you know
but he instinctively looks around as well
got'cher back, man

crouching next to the lupus
fingertips tracing the prints in the once mud now dirt
he wonders.... was it blood or water than made it mud

"You gettin' any strange vibes?"

not looking up at the question to the Walker and younger Get

(decker)
Whuffing, the heavy grey wolf doesn't need to reply to that. Hackles (white-as-snow) raised, legs stiff, he moves past James. In this form, the primal mind is thick; human rationality is far. His flank brushes the other's shoulder with a wolf's easy physicality, and then he's deep inside the ring. Back and forth he paces, sniffing here, pawing into the earth there -

- freezing.

They all see it: his lips peeling back from his long white teeth as he raises his head; the vibration of a soundless snarl shaking the air around him. The heathaze of Rage explodes around him, and his claws gouge the earth.

Asher.

(rune)
Dark eyes flicking back to Decker, Rune contents herself with observing their examination of the site. When Decker goes... wild, her arms tighten and her back straightens. She takes a few steps back and away from them, watching the area around them, narrow-eyed and alert.

(james)
the solid drummer doesn't even move as the heavy wolf brushes past
animal ease
animal speak
and maybe he was just ready for it

dark eyes watching the wolf very closely
reading his body language as easily as listening to him speak
a brow lifting as the Rage washes back over him

this.
is going to be.
bad.

coughing a half-grunt

talk to me, Decker, tell me more

(decker)
A short, coughing, growling bark, eyes wild. A flicker of tongue from between bared teeth, and then his teeth snap the air, clapping shut an instant after his tongue is withdrawn. The meaning is obvious: Not. Now.

In a frenzy of motion (better than the other sorts), the wolf zigzags over the field, following trails seen only to by him, nose to the earth, snuffing, whuffing, pausing here and there to dig furiously as if he thought he'd find something buried under all the earth flying up from between his hind legs.

(james)
oddly
he's getting more out of this than Decker had planned on telling him
pick apart what's left
and how others react
and how others investigate

and you learn something, don'tcha

but either way the Gnawer stays silent
waiting

(decker)
...and slowly the pieces accumulate among the scattering dirt. Here a bloated, discolored organ that might've once been a liver is turned up; there, a coil of stinking intestine. A flap of ant-eaten, molded muscle. And finally, half a broken pelvis bearing the marks of gnawing small-animal teeth is dragged from the mud.

Pieces of the whole: so many ways to die, and one way to end up. Rotten.

The muscles of the wolf bunch and roll as he drags, nudges, paws and heaps the pieces together. Saliva drips from his lolling tongue. Excitement, agitation, fury, something. He paces stifflegged in a tight circle around the small mound of rotted flesh, almost altarlike, and finally sits on his haunches, shoulders quivering faintly. Slowly, he seeps back into Homid form: kneeling, fists on his thighs, staring at the mess, chest rising and falling in sharp, spasmodic heaves.

"Asher's a Dancer," he says at last, quietly. "Ain't his real name, but that's what..." no need to speak of that. No need to speak of Gaby. "'S what he can be called. He ain't the only one, but he did this. He tore my throat open, he raped and beat my kinfolk, and he did this too. Could smell 'im."

(rune)
When at last Decker has finished his circuit of the ritual site and shifted back into homid, Rune circles back to them. Her arms are still loosely wrapped around her stomach, fingers curled over either opposite elbow.

Dark eyes lid slowly as Decker offers the brief story, flickering away from him as he offers his brief tale, out of respect, perhaps. Or perhaps she doesn't want to get that involved. It's difficult to tell. "Where've you seen him?"

(james)
oh yea
very bad

"Sounds like a charming guy."

dryly
then lifts a chin towards the pile of.....

"Do you know what it was?"

honest question
he's not sure if you can tell so long after death
quietly asked
real quiet
the bad vibes are getting worse

"Cops guessed female from what they could find, plus there were some blond and gray/silver hairs but I don't know if they ever connected them to the body or the killer."

(decker)
Eyes gone the grey of gunmetal flicker up at Rune, and away. Reluctantly, "Pine Barrens." His Adam's apple moves: this was his mistake. "Followed his packmate there after I took'im down. There were others. A white one 'n a twisted fuck, but I don't know their names. Erik saw 'em too."

Decker's quiet for a minute then, looking at the heaps of shredded rotted flesh and the single arch of a broken hip-bone. A shrug as he reaches forward to lift the bone up. No anatomist was he; never learned the difference between a male pelvis and a female one. He wouldn't know that the latter, which this was, flared wider, was shallower.

"Dead guy. Girl. Whatever."

Raising his head then, he looks around: left, right. "Let's get outta here."

(rune)
Rune's nod is too sharp to be casual, too casual to be sharp. She lifts her shoulders briefly, arms tightening around her stomach with the gesture, then turns and starts crossing back over the field, heading toward her car.

(james)
Decker may not know, but he does
sparsely
sucking it up and finally stepping into the circle
(shudder)
musician's hand reaching to trace the bone
going back through memory files gained and stored from nights spent with the Frankenweiler Wingers in the library or museum
it's about a 50% guess
but this would definitely have let the cops know who they were burying

"I'll catch up in a minute."

the webset shrugged off and a single rebar stick plucked free, the rest tossed towards Decker
second-hand gray shirt stripped
it may be an Unholy place
but they dug her up
she's gotta be reburied

(decker)
Decker catches it, stopping to watch James.

The burying of the dead. The young Bone Gnawer does it with such unthinking solemnity that Decker almost feels shamed for letting it lie like that; for saying what he does, "Take the bone. Maybe Livin'ston's spirits can make somethin' of it."

(madison cassidy)
~ She is dressed in a Chaosgirl T-shirt and a pair of flared jeans…carrying a backpack…she has long jet black hair…with a white streak down the side. (battle wound) She is only 21, but has been through shit most 21 year olds haven’t…her green eyes sparkle and she carries herself with confidence~
This confidence however different then any who used to know her…
Athletic and toned, she doesn’t look like one to mess with…Something about the way she carries herself, or the way she looks at you…strength exposed in each step and movement, her pure breed apparent.

North Jersey...what the hell was she doing in north jersey
Looking for Erik of course...

She walks up the street...slowly, taking in the sights, she hadnt been here much, she spent most of her time in the woods lately...but her training was on hold for a few days, and she couldnt help but need some excitement...
Gabe can be pretty boring, almost fatherlike (sick thought)
She missed the old days, the wild nights of partying...the whole life she lived in Grendel Park..butnow was the present, (redundant) and here she was..might as well make the best of it...

(james)
there's a pause, in gathering what's left of the once-womangirl into the folds of his shirt
nodding to leave the bone out
the rest wrapped into a neat gray package

but he doesn't place her back into the ground where they're at
instead carting his little bundle paces outside the circle
outside the ritual
outside the taint
outside the curse that must lay upon that ground

and it's when his back is turned the rites of wounding show
the charcoal and ash rubbed into the wounds from a battle long passed
when he lost everything

unwrapping one end of the remaining drumstick it's used to gouge a hole from Gaia's skin
just big enough for the remains
its not the first stranger or friend the young Gnawer has buried
either in the wild or city streets
it's quick
silent
a passing thought
he knows it won't be the last

rising and tucking the rebar beneath an elbow to rewrap the end as he walks back to the truck
watching the ground

"Let's roll."

(decker)
Silently handing the bundle back to James, Decker scoops the bone up, lingering until the last of the pack had gone before he too turns and walks away from the tainted circle.

A block away, his mind begins to ease. Two blocks away, the weight lifts from his shoulders and he rolls them, tilting his head this way and that to loosen up bunched muscles. Fucked-up shit...

The walk back to the truck is silent. None of them seemed to want to say much. When they get there, the three boys pile into the truck, Rune into the Beemer. Decker starts up the ignition and waits for the engine to heat up while whomever wanted to buckled themselves up. Finally, throwing the brake down and easing out of the parallel-park, he starts them rolling home.

(madison)
No sign of Erik, she knew he came out here, but who the fuck knows where he was now...
fuck it
Time to head back..she wasnt going to risk dealing with crap in north jersey...

Posted by james at September 27, 2002 12:00 AM

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