October 19, 2002.10.19.02. - persuasion [salome-decker-others](james)
sometimes it's hard to tell just how long a person's been around
sometimes.... no matter how hard they try, people stand out, or, otherwordly, they blend in so well you just can't seem to get a sight on 'em
like these two, for instancetake one Bone Gnawer, sitting crossed legged and relaxed, paying little mind (or so it seems) to the commotion across the way, more intent on the consumption of whatever it is Carl's Jr has offered to the masses as some sort of oral satisfaction that's half the price of the name, light brown dreadlocks surrounding a satiated smile, tattered trenchcoat and second hand clothing that lets him blend into the fog of memory, at his right knee a pair of rebar drumsticks that earned the cash for the meal, at his left knee an almost empty paper bag
on the other side of the paper bag, the Fenrir, low-slung standing, surly, and taught no matter how apathetic he seems, if it's a smile its a scowl, where there is ease he brings tension although muscular shoulders slouch against the brick wall, where his comrade is shaggy and tattered this one is shorn clean and miminal and to the point.... just like a blade
they share something
and it's not just the meal
something that makes them belong in the contrasting picture
right there, on the corner
as if they've always been(salome hawke)
She extracts the lighter from Imogen's hand... snick-snick... a small flame appears and she touches it to the end of the cigarette caught between the finger od her other hand and her lips. She inhales deeply, letting the flame vanish and holds the item back out to Imogen as she exhales slowly.Normally she wouldn't indulge in her craving for cigarettes, but occasionally, you had to be kind to herself and at the moment, alone in the world so to speak, she didn't have any other crutch.
God knows, if she got drunk she'd probably end up in the lock up for shooting someone who happened to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.
(system)
The shadows of the city were always alive. If you knew where and how to look you could find the remenance of what lay beyond.
Death had been high in the recent months, and there were those who would feed upon such things. Those from the dark which would take power from the death and chaos of lifes passing.(decker)
One looks almost exclusively at his meal. Burger and fries, and a tall coke. Life doesn't get much better than this for a Bone Gnawer. The other is on his feet, back against one brick wall plunged into a thick concrete wrapping, a little brightly-colored carton of fries ridiculous in his hand. Likely he wouldn't be able to tell you if he'd been eating fries, curly fries, or deep-fried grasshoppers if they suddenly disappeared out of his hand. He looks left, he looks right, his eyes follow a girl into the Carl's Jr. and a middle-aged man out, never staying in the same place for long.So what is it that binds the two? What common thread could there possibly between shaggy street musician and close-cropped street thug?
Some ties are thicker than blood.
Upending the carton, Decker tumbles the last few fries into his open mouth and then wads the cardboard up, launching it at the nearest trash can. He misses. At least now he knew he didn't miss his calling for the NBA. Down the street, a crime scene. Someone else is dead. Chewing, Decker eyes the commotion for a minute. It's an overcast day, the bright silvery sort, but his eyes automatically squint into the distance, well-accustomed to the all-pervasive light of the southern backwaters he grew up in.
A swallow. Slurp. Coke, running out. Swallow again, and then Decker straightens, walking over to the trashcan this time to dunk it in. Coming back, wiping his hands on the seat of his low-belted pants, "Almost done?"
(system)
Slipping through the dark, laying under foot the darkness rose and fell like the evening tide. The energy of the kill, the sweet taste of deaths touch. It fed upon the pain, it reveled in the memory. The banial energy was growing... but it was cautious. They felt the presence of the warriors and knew they would need be careful this night.
(imogen)
For a lack of anything to do, she simply remains where she is, smoking the cigarette slowly, the combined carcingenic fumes staining the smells of the air. Her attention has half turned toward the crime scene again, eyes narrowing slightly as she watches a police officer holds back the line, while others, dressed similar as she was, though many had jackets stating 'Forensics' and not 'OCME'.There is no shortage of jobs in the career of death. There are more than a few. Looking for a shell casing. A hair. Whatever it is they need this time.
(sal)
The movement of extending the lighter back to Imogen exposed the butt of a gun nestled into a shoulder holster, previously hidden by the leather jacket that hung mid-thigh. She was a little more than unhappy to not be wearing her usual brown suede, but thanks to a certain fuzz-ball, it was somewhat out of commission. For years it had survived god knows how many grotesque situations, but somehow Luck of the Jacket finally gave out and the splatterings of dry blood had become a psychiatrists wet-dream of an ink-blot test. Damn, fucking fuzzies...(sal)
She appeared completely unaffected by the whole ordeal occuring down the road. One dead body was pretty much the same as the next, just mode of death was different and once you've seen a few garou rip chunks out of to-be corpses, seeing someone dead by asphixiation, for example, isn't really that cheer-raising."How'd this one get bumped?"
She didn't particularly care if Imogen wished to share, which she doubted she would, but it filled in the hum of 'silence' around them with something other than street noise.
(gabriel thunder oak)
The smell of death, the smell of people, the creatures of the night and those of others...
This is what caught his attention as he begins to move around behind the line casting his gaze no longer toward the crime scene but to the darkness that abounds from everywhere. Almost with a scowl he fights back the urge to rage against the closing minions of the darkness.Under his breath he whispers a word... rage filled thickly accented irish...
"Banes...."
(james)
burger
fries
coke
cheeeeeze
he's learned to appreciate the little things in lifeby the time Decker returns from the game-winning slam dunk he's licking the remnant flavors of burger, sauce, fries from his fingers, brown eyes glancing up.... he..... doesn't even bother offering a napkin
chin drops in a nod
dreads dance on his shoulders in stretching rise
trash rolled into the bag a deposited in the bin - Oh, Galatea
and the rebar sticks shoved into a sheath which hangs off a shouldersometimes, communication needs not a sound - some ties are thicker than bood - just a glance
ready when you are
(system)
Rising from the streets and from the dark a cold breeze runs down the streets, across the forms of man and beast, down the path of wilderness, over the bodies both dead and living. The shiver of unknown power and abilities ride the wind, as those who can sense it and have the gifts to understand it will know... more than death hangs on the night.(decker)
And this time, when James returns from his own score, Decker's frowning, his grey eyes scanning the street back and forth before - as though drawn by a lodestone - fixing in the same direction Gabriel looked from a block and a half away. The Modi's hands are loose at his sides, but the hair on his arms, on the back of his neck, stands on end. In another second, he starts walking - a steady pace, neither fast nor slow.He doesn't say anything to James.
He doesn't need to.(james)
there's a frown
chillwhen you grow up in the city, and know its feeling like you know your own..... well..... you tend to get that itchy feeling when a murder is more than a murder and darkness is more than darkness as it becomes a force to be reckoned with..... literally
at least they didn't let it ruin their meal
not a word between them
he hasn't known Decker long, but he knows that look
the Gnawer isn't more than a half step behind(st)
to Decker Rohl, James: The darkness is the natural shadow cast by everything. The spiritual energy of the banes moving through the dark just allows a visual pathway to where they would travel.(imogen)
She nods her head toward the scene, as she blows smoke past her lips, the cigarette burned down to a mere inch from the filter, "Gunshot wound to th' head." She replies matter-of-factly, "and another few to his gut just to make sure the job was done."An off handed nod toward Sal, her eyes flickering toward where the gun rests, "Better get a better jacket."
(gabe)
Looking around the senses of the gifts of Gaia flow around him as the mortal population for whatever reason continue to move away from him. Slowly he looks into the surroundings he finds himself enveloped in. Noticing the two forms of the Gnawer and the Fenris he takes only a moment to pass on to something else. In his own mind it was good to see they were there, but his focus was not on meetings tonight, his thoughts were focusing in on that which moved beneath and around the veil of the senses.His eyes look around, darting quickly as the spiritual energy moves like a hunting pack, circling and moving with dedicated purpose but erratic and disturbing to the prey.
It was all he could do to hold back the growing growl within him as he gritted his teeth and the look of vengance and death radiated from him as he focused in on the presence of the wyrm which began to surrounded the area as well as him.
(st)
Whispers... silent calls to those of the dark. Ringing messages to the truely tainted. It was like a song of such beauty as they approached. Those that could hear would swear that it was the dark angelic voice heralding a new beginning."Sweeeeeeeet.....
Deeeeeaaathhh....
Surrrrrrrrender...."(decker)
At the edge of the sidewalk, Decker doesn't slow, though he does flick a glance either way. No use getting run over. Never let glory get in the way of common sense: heroes are the first to die.Halfway across the street, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a springloaded knuckle-knife. Snick. The four-inch blade swings into place, but he knows he won't really need it. It's all just habit.
Park the car twenty blocks away and walk to the fight.
A glance for Gabriel, acknowledging the presence of the elder. On instinct, he moves to guard the Fianna's right flank, still half a block behind. It doesn't matter that there was no Caern here, no Sept here; it doesn't matter that he might not even like Gabriel very much. When shit goes down, they're Garou before they are men.
Quarter-block to go, and Decker squeezes his free hand into a fist. Knuckles pop; he shakes it out again, rubs it over the back of his neck, and quickens his pace by a notch.
(sal)
She raises an eyebrow again with a vaguely bemused expression and looks from the woman and down at her jacket, which is, once again, again covering anything suspicious."I'll give it due consideration."
In most states she had a permit to carry, considering her occupation, but most of the time, unless the police were snooping, she didn't sweat it.
She shifts against the brick wall, looking up and down the street with a bland expression again and notices, belatedly, Decker in the distance.
Oh joy. Oh rapture.
Well, at least he seemed to be walking fine now. Maybe one day she'd find out whether he was just a bug-nuts ahroun, or a stupid one as well... and whether or not he held a grudge.
She had given him a warning shot... the BSD hadn't been that lucky.
(sal)
"This looks promising..."She had fully moved her attention onto Decker and then James who seemed to be tagging along with the grumpy, mal-adjusted Fenrir. There was something about an impending fight when Garou were known to be around that make the air thick with tension, excitment and probably soon enough... violence.
And violence was fun...
(gabe)
Seeing the form of Decker the nod was quickly returned as he senses all of a sudden picked up beyond him...Stepping off the path toward the walkway of the street he cast a look down toward the other pair. The darkness hid enough but the light of the street illuminated enough to see that which he needed. The stench of the minions were heavy upon that one...
His gaze was heavy and harsh as he looked out over the distance.
(james)
while there's a steady, ground covering, pointed, seething stalk to the Fenrir's movementsstill, the Gnawer hasn't lost his easy charm
lopey gait devouring ground just the same
lower lip nibbled in a bit of thoughtno.... not yet, Jamey boy
there's a quirk in his expression that says "Gabriel, how delightful to see you again." but the silence prevails save the relentless march of boots on concrete
a bit of a half-step to the left
rebar leaves its sheath, one stick held tucked against his arm, hidden alongside the length of tattered sleeve(st)
"weeeeeeee seeeeeeee youuuuuu"The voice continued to grow as it now had a second, then a third to join with it.
The chours began to grow as the scent of death and the darkness beyond began to converge upon the scene... calling to those who would listen. Beconning those to come to the aide, and have their fun.
(imogen)
"Oh, I'm sure you will." And this passes for a civilized conversation, now seemingly ended.Neither of them have the senses to feel the chill, that feeling that causes gooseflesh to rise and hair to stand on end, but they can both very well recognize Decker as he crosses the street, and Imogen has seen this packmate often enough to recognize his dingy slouch as he walks beside him. An eyebrow lifts just slight as she glances toward the building and busier-than-usual sidewalk. A faint noncommital snort replies Salome's comment. Gabriel is regarded for a moment.
(decker)
Leave it to the Fianna to look for babes when banes were encroaching......but the slash of the Elder's eyes that way draws Decker's by instinct, and a sudden scowl slant over the Full-Moon's brow. Fuck. Back to the Athro as he comes up on his right side. A jerk of his head in the direction of the kinfolk. "Spare someone to guard 'em?"
(gabe)
Nodding to James as he approached he didn't need to say much. His eyes were still locked down the street from them toward the reaking emination of death and wyrm. But as the wind slowly began to cry out it's own tones in the dark he was taken back to the task at hand.Irish accented...
"The darkness abounds this eve, and one down the walk reaks of the depths."
(sale)She'd spent time mated to a grouchy (albeit more controlled) Fenrir Ahroun; she read the tribe well enough and there is something instinctive inside that lets those 'in the know' be aware when the fuzzies have a purpose.
She is probably glad that she didn't hear Decker's comment or she'd show him exactly how much she believed she needed guarding... By shooting him in the leg... AGAIN...
(sal)
She tilts her neck to either side, listening to the distinctive sound of her neck cracking. She crosses her arms, one hand sliding under her jacket nonchalantly and the other hand, still with cigarette smoking, just out of the way, but close enough that she unconsciously can rub at her midrift and the scar tissue beneath her black t-shirt."You know 'em?"
(st)
Suddenly the wind stopped... the breeze of cold wintery air fell to the ground and in its wake was only silence.Yet it was the darkness that seemed to invest the truth. Those that could see the spirits of the world would go nuts right now. For surrounding the young women where distinctly now 4 spirialing black voids.
Dancing from shadow to shadow as three of the forms seemed to slowly circle and almost pass through the young Get Kin.
"Hhhheeeeeeeeeeear Usssssssssss"
The dark silvery tounge of twisted metal and death. Attractive to some, hell to others. Those already who had been set upon the precapus of the abyss and seen into it also have had it see into them. And the worlds are never again the same.
"Kiiiiiilllllll themmmmmm. Freeeeeeeeeeee Yourrrselfff"
(imogen)
They're too far away to hear well enough, hardly close enough to even recognize that they're speaking. But they are speaking. The cigarette is tossed aside, thrown aside to splatter faint flickers of embers and ash as the cherry scatters. She nods her head slightly, "I know two o' 'em. Th'skinny one and tha younger one. Th'third, I've never met before," resigned tones, that she knows them at all.Mercifully unaware of the black voids that surround the woman she speaks to, she simply watches the trio, eyes narrowed to blue triangles.
(james)
there's little more than a glance down the way
outranked, and probably out-classed
the Gnawer knows his position in this pretty well
so just waits(gabe)
The gifts of spiritual sight are few and far between. Some are gifted with it, others learn it, some few are born with it. In any event the rise of anger and rage all of a sudden became VERY apparant as the wind dies and the darkness almost in some places begins to take a mind of its own.Memory of the abyssal darkness that had taken so many camps, so many caerns, and so many lives raced through the Elder Fianna as he cast his whole intense stare down toward the Kinfolk.
"They are there... there are now four... Where the others are I know it not. But be aware... there is a light stench eminating from one of them."
(sal)And for a moment a thought crosses her mind that perhaps it would make her feel a little less touchy, a little more alive, if she just shot Decker (for principle's sake, of course). She'd been nice the first time, seeing as that he was kin-tribe with her deceased mate, and only ruputured the flesh of his thigh with silver... but he was presenting a much more... palatable target at the moment.
Her thumb stroked her midrift harder, a familiar psychosematic pain winged along the edges of the scar tissue riddling her stomach.
It was their fault... all of them... damn them...
Her fingers, under her jacket, slowly stroke the butt of her gun as she watches the trio, two which are confirmed Fuzzies and one she assumed, by being with the other two, was also.
(st)to MULTIPLE: There if that don't clear it up I dont know what will. We got 4 definate banes, and probally a couple others floating around near the courps. And a smell of wrym taint though be it slight coming from the direction of the girls.
Everyone straight now? Good... let's have some mass chaos in the middle of a crime scene... with police and people, and news crews. *sigh* God i'm evil sometimes.
(decker)
The fuck? Decker casts Gabriel a sharp glance, and then one to James. "Peekin'," he says to the latter, simply enough, reaching out to lay a hand on his packmate's shoulder. The message is unspoken, but clear enough - watch my back while I'm looking.The Modi's eyes go blank. Standing in place, he turns in a slow circle, then closes his eyes and gives his head a quick shake to clear it. Bringing up a hand to massage his temple, he lets go of James' shoulder.
"There all right," he says, low. "Can only see four but these fuckers don't ever travel alone. Risk crossin' over?"
(imogen)
Her eyes move away from the trio of full bloods, Gabriel made guilty by association, even if she doesn't know him, toward Salome as the woman stands there, broodingly, her hand inside her jacket. A frown flickers and then is composed as one hand slides to the back of her jeans, hooking a thumb to the waist band.(gabe)
He takes the look in stride, not worried about anything but the task at hand. Casting a look around there were still a great many people around."This many folk shall bring with it a nasty battle... many more powerful enemy than these four sure be it.
Two choices... take the fight to them, or get what seems their target and bring the fight to where we can take it.
Choice is yours lads, this is your packs area."(sal)She flicks the smoldering cigarette butt away from her with more force than was perhaps needed, not watching as it spiralled away onto the road. Among their families posture spoke volumes to their eyes, when scent brought them diddily-squat (unscented). There was a vibrating tenseness that thrummed through her posture and she wasn't quite so casually leaning against the wall anymore.
She was slipping into a mood that read that she wasn't all that happy with the situation anymore. Something was just wrong about standing on a footpath staring down the way at a trio of Garou that seemed primed for a fight and staring at the two of them.
Slowly... gradually... like water being poured from a glass... the humanity captive in her eyes faded... and the white place, the soundless place, the place where your conscience takes a holiday, filled her.
It was what made life bareable...
(james)
there's a sound, a breath, a low grunt of acknowledgement
just maybe.... there's granite beneath that easy countenanceand while Decker peeks, he watches
the streets
the crowd
the kinSal standing
now, when you've been on the streets as long as he has, you get those itchy feelings that we were talking about earlier
you get used to things
like that moment when someone has their hand tucked inside their coatloaded?
he doesn't know
he doesn't want to find out the hard way
suspicion narrowing his eyes"Whatever it is, we don't make the decision here."
a glance to Decker, and to Gabriel
we move, now, no matter the direction
weight shifting to drift and mingle behind a passing crowd of onlookers
he can watch, but they aren't in direct line of fire.....(st)
"Killllll themmmmmmmmm. Take nnnnnot the ennnnnemy fight backkkk against thossssse whooo hurttt you."With every moment the voices become more and more clearer to those who could listen.
The shadows swirling and twisting around the two, unseen by damn near all slowly begin to grow in size as the energy and the moment lengthens.
(sal)
The whispers were taunting and she hated to be taunted... the fuzzies always picked on the weaker... or what they percieved to be the weaker. Didn't matter what side of the coin they were on, they were always on a little power-trip in one way or another...But the words, the impication, also mocked themselves. The scar tissue itched on her stomach and her brows knitted into a frown of both confusion and for a moment pain.
Mentally, one side abused her. Physically, it had been the other.
It was a toss up, of late, to figure out who she hated more. Her family or their enemies.
(decker)
Thanks, Gabe. That meant the decision fell to him, ranking member of the pack here - even if Gabriel's suggestion was pretty much spelled out for him. Decker's brow creases into a burgeoning scowl. He kneads his temple another moment, then drops his hand to his side, grimaces. "She got me off the street after some fucker shot me full'a silver."It's an old-west standoff. Decker's eyes are narrow and gunmetal-grey, fixed on the two kin each reaching for their own choice of weapon. He had a good guess what Imogen's would be, if and when she decided to pull it.
Hell, he fuckin' gave it to her.
Another moment he deliberates. Finally, "I don't got no wyrm-sensin' skills. We're flyin' blind by yer word, Thunder Oak. So if yer sure - I say we get her, avoid a fuckin' catastrophe. But keep it easy."
(gabe)
"Aye... we'll have to remedy that problem as well. Especially if your pack chooses to remain here near the city. But agreed, we get the kin and move to safer ground. Should the enemy follow it will be on our terms not theirs... and we should hurry... they are gaining in strength it seems."(imo)
She waits. She can wait through many things, and it seems this is one of them, even when she has no clue what would happen when all things went loose.It isn't the banes that make Imogen's hair stand on end, it's that look on Sal's face when her soul shrivels into a corner where it won't have to face this.
Waiting, her heart beat counting the seconds. She'd told him when he gave it to her she didn't know how to use it. But if it came to that, there's no doubt she would pull it and use it as best she can. If it came to that.
(decker)
Decker exhales through his teeth, and then nods at his packmate. "C'mon, James."He was smart about that much, at least. James had a far sweeter tongue than Decker did. Clicking his knife away, Decker starts down the street toward the kinwomen.
(nova)
A thin, rather unhealthy-look... feral dog with wolf ancestory?... slinks out of an alley and falls into step about 7 feet from Decker, keeping her nose to the air.(sal)
With violence comes pain... with pain comes pleasure... a twisted little merry-go-round twirling slowly in her demented mind... She'd definately gotten her genetics worth when it came to dementia. The Good Fuzzies had been cruel about it all, the Bad Fuzzy had made it an addiction... pain, violence, anger... it was like a drug that surged through the system like adrenaline. The ultimate high... the big ol' turn-on... the only reason not to fully withdraw from Garou society; big, bad Garou boys can take damage, regenerate and then keep the party going all night.There was nothing remotely humane in her eyes now. They were dying, then dead... she could kill a whole pack of Garou (okay, maybe in a dream only) in this state and she'd never regret one pull of the trigger.
(gabe)
Slowly the Elder followed... allowing the packmates to take the lead and handle this the way they saw fit.~How else would they learn...~ he thought.
Yet his eyes fell for a moment to the second woman. He hadn't thought about it till now but when he cast his gaze down, full of rage and wrath she took it in stride and did not flinch as others would, and in fact as he stared for a few moments he caught himself smiling as he realized there was more to this one than he first thought. The signs of heritage and pure breeding showed a bit as he put it aside for now... his mind instantly back to the job at hand and the burning hate which welled within.
(sal)
The closer the trio - no, now foursome - came to her and Imogen the more she looked like she would either pull down on them or turn and walk away. She didn't look - how to put it - receptive... of their attentions at the moment.
(st)
The flurry of spinning forms pause as the now four, equal in numbers starts down on them. Three, perhaps.... two... definately... but four... these odds were looking bad.
Yet in this moment something happened... the four slowly began to meld and merge... solidifying like liquid into a solid puddle... a solid form of the void beyond.And if the voice sounded sweet and like honey before it was now sacrin and ever so sweet...
"Like razors through flesh, anger through pain... Vengance is release!"
The voice now clear in the mind of those who could hear and who listened. Their target was she, and she was their instrument... the choice was all but made, and the now single form reveled in it.
(decker)
Oh, he sees the moment the realization sinks in for Gabriel, all right. Somewhere in the back of his mind, all his hackles had been raised waiting for it. In the end, though, all he does is slide his hands into his pockets and - casual, apathy laid like insulating rubber over the live wire of rage - spits sideways through his teeth.A pass of his eyes over the scrawny feral dog. Recognition? Some. An upwards nod. He purposefully slows his pace, letting James take the lead. Show was the street musician's...until it went bad, at least.
Grey eyes on Imogen's blues. Unreadable as she is, he gives her the same up-jerk of his chin. "'Sup Imogen."
(sal)
Between the two women, standing so near to each other, a Garou would have to be dead not to notice the sheer amount of silver carried between the two of them. It was a tangy, hair-tickling feeling...And who wanted to bet that the dead-eyed Fenrir-Fang was the one carrying the most?
(nova)
She growls slightly, the only way to communicate in her present form without attracting attention from the wrong people. Damn, she hated not being able to talk...
Getting an idea that she doubted would worked she stopped and rubbed her paw furiously up and down her muzzle.(james)
oh, great, we're heading towards the one that seems to be loadedbut he doesn't question it, does he
not even a split second passes before he's following his packmate's lead
heading towards the kinwomen
heading towards what could possibly be very painful
heading towards what could possibly be very fatalall in a day's work
(what the HELL is he going to say? think James think)
a sideways glance to the strange dog that suddenly appeared..... well hello there.... you look familiar.....
but everything is pushed away when he can focus on Sal's face (....shit) and the Gnawer takes a quicker step than the others (once a Hood....) quick enough to focus her attention but not enough to force her to draw...... and it's here the street performer comes out in full bloom
"I..... desperately.... need to have a word with you, and while I know she's on their side I think you're the only one that can settle the dispute fair and square as an unbiased observer. So would you mind.... stepping over here with me..... just for a moment?"
yea, big bad Bone Gnawer, she's got a lot to fear from him
(imo)
She's good at unreadable; either the emotions are so hidden she keeps them from showing, or they are so slight (ice queen) that you would never notice them anyway. She turns away from Sal for a moment to glance at Decker, blue on grey, her lips twitching in a smirk, that belies the fact she has yet to decide what was going on."How's it goin', Rohl," replying as a greeting rather than an actual question. Her voice lilts with british-scottish undertones. Definitely european. Silver here, too, and between the two, they must make a small pocket of that itchy feeling that Garou get when near their most deadly enemy.
It's easy to guess who packs more. Just look at the look on Sal's face.
Eyes move toward James as he speaks, a coppery eyebrow lifting just ever so slightly.
(gabe)
Looking down as the now four moved he noticed the newest member to join up with them. Strange how so many choose to stay in the city.As he closes in the tell tale tingle of silver reaches out to him. The casual smile crosses his face for a moment before he pulls it back. Pausing as the Gnawer speaks, the scent of taint is much stronger now that he is this close. And it is light, casual contact or minor blemmish of sort but it is true enough he stares at the Young kin he remembered from the woods that one night. The truth was right in front of him and he only waited to see how things would play out.
(sal)
Her eyes slide very slowly from Decker, whom has had much of her dead-look attention up until now, and land on James. Her expression appears to be on the border of saying "fuck off", but she manages to hold onto some of her fang heritage... for the moment. If he pressed the issue, would she shoot him for the sake of making him shut up? Maybe. Who knows. She was a kin that carried silver. With that look, she would possibly be willing to use it on her own."I'd rather not."
Her eyes drop from James to Nova and she stares at the mutt and then gives something akin to a snort.
"I think you're dgod's had too much crack, kid." Obviously she was still speaking to James, since her eyes, her dead,dead eyes, flick back to the younger Fuzzy.
(decker)
One ear on James, not nearly the performer he was and not nearly the blank mask Imogen could be, could be, was not always - his manner is half-distracted at best. A pause before he speaks; he sends the mutt a (lazy) sideways look. Easy.Back to the Fianna kin - something that's rather hard to forget now, what with the Fianna Athro right behind him. He casts a look over her shoulder and nods at the crime scene: "Workin' late again?"
(nova)
She makes a slight huffing noise.
This bitch has the wrong family member.
Nothing really pressing happening in front of her, she looks around for some source of reflection. It's fairly obvious that no one is taking care of the spirit-side of things.(james)
that easy grin spreads
(yes, when looking death in the face, he smiles.... there is something very wrong here)
chuckling"Careful.... she may decide to piss on you with comments like that. Some mutts can be touchy that way, you know...."
he leans in a little
confidentially"Look, give me a minute of your time, allright? Because even if you shoot me, there's three others that will have you drug and down before you can recover from the recoil. And I really need you to answer this question for me."
now while he's not sure what contains the silver that's sending yet another itchy feeling up his spine
he can smell the gun oil
yep. she's loaded.((using persuasion, sal's player cool with just going with it and no roll))
(imo)
One hand still stays casually thumbed toward the back of her jeans, between the jacket and untucked blouse, it's hard to pinpoint exactly where as half her attenton remains on Salome and James, while she answers Decker, "I was." A faint twitch of her shoulders a careful shrug, "I don't seem to be needed anymore."(decker)
"Yeah." Such a simple conversation. More than one thread of tension pulls taut just beneath the surface. "Should probably get outta here- " - breaking off suddenly, he barks at the 'dog', "No! Nova! Heel!"Likely the Bone Gnawer was going to bristle at that, but he was damned if he was going to let her across to face the four banes he saw - and christ knew how many others he couldn't - alone.
(gabe)
The words are harsh... he knew most kin were looked down upon as being lesser in many ways to the true blooded Garou of the tribes, but perhaps his family was different in a way. That or he just hated seeing people treat the only hope of the future like they were possessions and property instead of who they really were.
In any event he stood, casting a glance to the ferel one and back again...(sal)
Her brows knit together in what seems to be a frown like something was penetrating that pure white sound - the white place - the source of calm at her very center. She gives something that is quite a fair immitation of a growl deep in her throat before she gestures to James with the hand that had been pressed against her stomach rubbing at it through her t-shirt."Fine..." She didn't sound happy, but she wasn't shooting him, so that was a bonus. Besides... why shoot a kid, when there was a Fenrir first in line for the honor?
She then shifts a guick look to Decker's outburst towards the mutt, before settling unnervingly on James once more.
(sal)
She does not, however, slide her other hand out from under the leather of her jacket... she wasn't completely stupid... and she was really paranoid.(nova)
She ducks in startlement, skittered away a few steps.
Nobody ever understands what I'm doing.
Sneering slightly, she looks around again for any non-icky spirits that might be around.(imo)
Such a simple conversation. It's easy to hold them and keep your eyes and ears on something else.She perhaps would have replied something, had he not interrupted himself to yell at Nova. As it is, she doesn't answer him, watching as James starts to lead Sal away.
(st)
slowly... ever so slowly the spiritual energy of the place was shifting. Darker and darker it was becomming as the newly charged and joined one began the low call to the world. Summoning those that could hear,... calling to those that would listen.In that instant down the street several blocks in the same moment two lamp posts popped their lights.
Darkness was growing and it was beginning to slowly draw the attention of the mortal populas as well.
"KILL HIM AND BE FREE!"
Posted by james at October 19, 2002 12:00 AM
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