drums-on-skulls: .10.29.02. - purple haze [imogen-decker-rune-terrapin]

October 29, 2002

.10.29.02. - purple haze [imogen-decker-rune-terrapin]

[after the hunt for asher and kaj'sha]

(imogen)
She's been watching James pace a trench into the motel floor for hours. Silence is common with her, as uncomfortable as it can be, and it's hardly been broken by less than four words.

He's not supposed to tell her.
She's not supposed to know.

And his silence speaks louder than words, and she answers it with her own. So, at first, she'd attempted to do some work. Case folders with gruesome pictures, scrawling hand written notes. That lasted for forty minutes, before his pacing had intruded once more onto her attention. Abandoning the work, she'd simply moved to sit on the bed, cross legged and smoking, dark eyes following him as he walks from one end of the room to the other. And back again.

And the tension grew thicker and thicker as the silence grew longer and longer.

(dcker)
There hadn't been a pack pow-wow before they'd all left. They met up somewhere en route, and so she couldn't have known what they were up to. Or so went the idea.

The reality is different. When Decker asked for the silver knives - both of them; when she saw the two Ahroun say their silent farewells at the door, one grim-eyed, one so worried; when she watched James pacing enough to smoke the floor - she had to know something was up.

An hour, maybe two, maybe three, pass in that tense sort of silence. Then, down the hall, an elevator reaches the sixth floor. The other two Full-Moons of the pack, the Fenrir and the Glass Walker, come down the hall side by side. The former had pulled a sweatshirt on over the mess he'd made of his dedicated clothes, but smudges of red show here and there. From the fingers of one hand dangle one of the knives - immaculately cleaned, polished, shining.

A knock on the door.

(rune)
The latter had wrapped thought ahead - (bloodstains? in her car?) and shrugged into another shirt somewhere along the way. The blood wiped easily off her slick leather pants with the soaked fabric of her dedicated blouse, wrapped in a plastic bag that dangles from her index finger.

Leaning against the doorframe as Decker knocks, she watches the empty hall with dark, brittle eyes and fumbles through the pockets of her leather coat for cigarettes and a light.

(imo)
She would have to be dense not to have seen the signs. Half of her was waiting for her pager to go off, a symbol of the carnage that Decker and his packmates were going to unleash. She almost hoped for it. At least it would have given her something to do.

As James moves toward the door, she stands up, stabbing out the cigarette, crushing the ember beneath the ash. "I'll get it."

The sound of a voice in the room is uncanny, when for hours (they lost track) there'd been nothing but the sound of James's feet on the floor, and her exhaling poisonous smoke.

A glance through the peephole, before the deadlock snicks open, and she turns the door knob opening it to permit the two Garou inside.

(rune)
Rune's cigarette is already lit, the acrid stench of burning tobacco spills into the room, just above the underscent of blood that lingers about the pair. Dark eyes flicker over the room - not quite as shabby as she expected, given the lobby's decor - but not exactly pleasing to the discerning (spoiled) eye, either.

"Mind if I smoke?" mumbled, the offhand courtesy as she follows Decker inside. The other silver knife - cleaned as well, gleaming sharpbright - she pulls from her coat pocket and tosses onto the bed, before searching out her own space in the now crowded room.

(decker)
In the peephole: Rune, Decker. The former seems a little more relaxed than usual, steam blown off, bloodlust sated (for now). Gacking that damn white-furred Spiral must've felt good.

The latter is, if anything, more withdrawn. Having found a stick of gum somewhere in Rune's car, he's chewing furious, jaw working the increasingly tough bit of candy long since gone tasteless.

Door opens; his grey eyes latch onto Imogen immediately, but he lets Rune go in first. Her body crosses his line of sight. He doesn't look away. Rune's inside then, and he's still looking at Imogen. A nod up, silent, and he holds out Asher's knife - handle first - as he brushes by on his way inside.

"Put it away somewhere." He didn't ever want to see it again. He could still hear Asher's last words in his head: seraphic, devilish.

(james)
tension
a part of him hated the situation he was in (he should be there to help)
a part of him hated the situation hew as putting Imogen in (not telling her when he knows she knows)
a part of him hated the thoughts that were roiling around in his mind (memories)
a part of him hated the color of this carpet he's been looking at and pacing for so long

and..... wearing it, by the looks of it

perhaps its a whim that makes him change course
for the carpet
for her sanity
for his sanity
who knows

he is supposed to be here to guard her
but she's not a damned prisoner
keeping her company would be nice
and after hour three and round fifty-seven of the room, he's just about ready to find some vestige of conversation to flail at just so he doesn't feel so guilty about (what happened long ago) being nothing more than a shooting duck for her to watch wander around in aimless aggravated circles
.... the knock

he's ready to come out of his skin
half ready to assume the worste and go charging out
but, elsewise, there's something that tells him
.... it's pack

even though he sees them
he's. still. tense.

there's a thousand questions he wants to ask.
but instead he just watches them come in
flopping into the chair - which surprisingly doesn't break - only talking with his eyes
he's just got that.... look

(imogen)
The room smells of cigarette smoke, with an ashtray, with cigarette butts littering the translucent bowl. Though Imogen does not answer Rune, the red haired woman rather assuming that the female Garou is not speaking to her, if the question is directed at her, it's obvious she won't mind. It seems the woman smokes quite enough herself.

Her eyes follow Decker as the Fenrir enters, offering her Asher's knife (and it would be impossible not to notice that blood further stains the hilt), reaching out and her fingers wrap around the profferred hilt talking it from him.

The door is shut behind them, the dead lock thrown. There are approximately three places to sit in the room. Two twin beds. And a chair, that James has just taken.

The knife is stowed into the night table, the closest there is to "away" there is in the tiny motel room. Imogen walks around the Garou, finding the fourth. The window sill, leaning her hip against the cold metal, hands sliding into her pockets.

(rune)
Slim pale fingers - capable hands, killing hands - slip through bloodblack hair, and here and there twist through a few congealed spatters of blood. She tugs at the snared strands absently, then leans to flick ashes from her bright pink cigarette into the ashtray.

Relaxed? Released? Perhaps, though only in comparison to the brooding Fenrir, for the GlassWalker has her own brood own. Her mobile red mouth is still, set into a distant half-frown, and her shadowed gaze affixes itself somewhere in the middle of the opposite wall.

(decker)
James takes the chair; Imogen, the window. Decker takes one of the beds, and Rune presumably takes the other.

Sitting on the edge, lifting one foot onto the opposite knee and undoing his shoelaces, then reversing, he lets the silence expand until all that's done. Two dirty shoes thud to the floor and finally, he speaks, quietly and tersely informing James of the news.

"Got two of 'em. Asher and the pretty-boy Alpha. That twisted fuck's still out there somewhere, though, 'n Erik says he don't know how many more are holed up elsewhere." Peeling his socks off as well and stuffing it into his shoes, he adds, "Erik's all right. Jus' takin' a walk."

Finished - lapses into silence. To be sure, he sees James' state, but he was never one to counsel another. Tonight's no exception. Without another word, the Modi gets up and walks toward the bathroom, peeling bloodstained and stiffening clothes off as he goes.

(james)
this is
just
dandy

there's almost a nervous edge that clings to him
hello?
is someone going to tell me anything
or will you let me crawl out of my own skull, first?
his attention
snaps
to the Modi's drawl

instant
relief

....... sorta

you know how most people would return with a "glad you're allright"?
notice he doesn't
he knows something isn't allright
but he'll take what he can get now
Gaia knows he's learned not to push Decker when he's in a mood.

so he waits until he's safely occupied in the shower

"What happened?"

real soft anyway
this time to Rune
he's asking for a lot of reasons.

(rune)
"It was a fuckin' mess," Rune continues Decker's tale, her voice cool and distant, at some strange remove and almost preternaturally even. "They were in a fuckin' night club. People every-fuckin'-where."

There's a brief flicker of her gaze - James, Imogen, the door through which Decker disappeared - and a glimpse of a gallows smile. "Missed 'em at the lab-placed. We got away clean, though.

"Not a scratch." Another brief, bitter half-smile. "But that nightclub..."

(terrapin)
She stops at the small "night window" and peers into the glass, ringing the bell that sits on the counter..waiting....seconds feel like minutes which then crawl to seem like hours...when the man who looks as inbred as they come heads to the door, scratching his crotch...nice...she makes a mental note to avoid this place after tonight...
"Yes, i need a room, smoking..one person" Shifting through her many pockets she produces a tattered ID and fills out the correct forms...a little more waiting as she tries not to make eye contact with the *thing behind the counter* before checking the paper he scribbled the room number on...
Easy enough. (wrong room) She forces a friendly smile and nods as she walks from the night window and towards her (not hers..theirs) room. The backpack now feeling like a ton of bricks setting on her small frame. She stops in front of the room and lets the backpack fall.
thump
Taking out the key she tries to shove it into the lock..to no avail..she tries again...odd..it sounded like there were people in there.

(imo)
A hand leaves her pocket to rest on the window sill. Fingers tap a silent tattoo against the metal of the window sill, patting out a half remembered beat of some song, either half remembered or half formed. Like James, dark blue eyed attention jerks toward Decker as he speaks, and continues to follow the Modi as he departs into the bathroom. Watching him without moving until the door shuts. Then dark eyes flicker away to look out the window.

As Rune speaks, mentioning the club, she reacts, however subtly, lifting off the window sill to pull a pager from her belt, eyeing the screen. It's returned to clip against the waistband of her jeans. The sound of a key scraping against the lock. Blink. She pushes off the window sill, starting to cross the room.

(james)
both brows lift in the frame of light brown should length dreads
(vines of the urban jungle, baby)
just stopping for a mo', here
night club? people everywhere?

oh. shit.

"How much clean-up?"

a glance to Imogen
hey, even if they played different sites
they both shared the same Veil
but it all goes to Hell when that key sounds

Erik would knock

this time he beat's Imogen to the door
looking out
some chick....?
and the door opens
barely
only enough to let one 6' dreadlocked surplus geared had entirely too long of a night Bone Gnawer look out

"Help you?"

(decker)
Water runs: sink and shower at once. Turn off the lights, flush the toilet, scream bloody mary thirteen times and she'll come and scratch your cheek. At least that's what they said when he was a kid.

Ten years ago.
A fuckin' eternity ago.

In the bathroom with the door shut behind him, Decker strips naked and throws his clothes in the sink under the blasting water. Almost immediately, tendrils of red-turning-pink curl out and seep (spiral) down the drain. The Modi himself steps into the shower running just a tad too hot, yanks the curtain shut, and watches the blood of his foes begin to wash down the drain.

Pushing that knife home, holding it there while the light flickered and faded: it had felt good. But what the Dancer had said - it'd made him keep tearing at the carcass long after it was only a carcass, and no longer a Dancer - Garou - no longer anything at all.

There was still blood under his nails. Furiously, he tears the little packet of soap open and scrubs himself head to toe, white soapsuds turning pink, running down his body and vanishing.

(imo)
Water runs: sink and shower at once. Turn off the lights, flush the toilet, scream bloody mary thirteen times and she'll come and scratch your cheek. At least that's what they said when he was a kid.

Ten years ago.
A fuckin' eternity ago.

There was still blood under his nails. Furiously, he tears the little packet of soap open and scrubs himself head to toe, white soapsuds turning pink, running down his body and vanishing.

(terrapin)
She looks -shocked- to say the least. As the guy with matching hair (ok that was odd) opens the door to [her] room. Pausing for a moment to figure out the right words to say. Standing there in the dark.
"Help me?" she pauses tugging at one of the beads woven into her dread. "the freak at the front gave me a key and a paper that said this room...but the key doesnt work" she smiles, the dimples in her cheeks caving in making her appear younger then she really is. "But obviously either I paid for a co-ed room...or he wrote down the wrong number" she blushes slightly at the mistake and looks around. The office now dark again..."which means I have a key to one of these rooms..." she points.."but i guess this isnt the one" On her backpack if he looks is the glyph of kinfolk. This was to assist her in finding others along her travels. Shrugging slightly and shaking her head she chuckles..."Sorry to bother you...I guess I will wake [him] up again and find out which door this key fits"

(rune)
Behind the door, the bed creaks beneath the Glasswalker's weight as she leans to grab the knife tosses carelessly onto the bed not five minutes before, and spins supple and quick to shove it into the nightstand drawer with its cousin.

Erik would knock, after all.

Whatever she might say, whatever she would say, she bites her tongue and sucks down another lungful of poisonous smoke. It's a good substitute for words - better, really, to bleed away the remnants of nervous energy, of battlelust.

Movement again - lean and long and sure - to grind the half-smoked cigarette to bits in the ashtray, before settling back and pulling a second from the pack tucked into her pocket. She lights up again, then tosses the pack to Imogen by way of offer and pulls more goodies from her depthless pocket: silvery Zippo, mottled brown prescription bottle.

(james)
a brow remains raised
skepticle to say the very least
but upon seeing that glyph.... well.... he doesn't need to say it out loud to get Rune over here
chuckling softly

"Was it the guy with the black hair? He's not all there sometimes."

there's that easy going smile again

"May I see the key?"

hand held out
palm up
no, he's not going to steal it

(terrapin)
She shrugs and hands him the key [not like it did her much good anyways] "black hair? actually i didnt really look at his hair, i tried to avoid any eye contact with him at all" she chuckles. Not glancing into the room...she did respect peoples privacy...
"I'm sorry if i inturrupted" she shifts her weight from foot to foot fidgeting a bit..."But since i am not psychic, i did not know this room was taken"
Eyes move to the backpack then along the ground back to the [dark] office. Oh what a night...

(imo)
Attention shifts toward the sharp movement of Rune on the other bed tossing the cigarette package her way, and she fumbles with catching it, her quick reactions no where near what one would expect for a Garou. She does, however, keep the package from falling, so it says something to her. A half raise of the cigarettes in quiet thanks, she taps out one of the coloured ones, slipping it between her lips, as her hands pat for a zippo. Her own pack had been exhausted with the last cigarette before the Garou had come to enter.

Eyes still half turned toward the doorway as she listens to the conversation, she thumbs the lighter's wheel, the orange flame brushing the cigarette's tip, brightening to an ember.

The package is tossed back toward Rune, either to be caught by the lithe Ahroun, or to land soundlessly on the bed as the Glass Walker answered her packmate's unspoken words.

(rune)
Rune blinks, shooting James a brief (incredulous) glance. It's the sort of suspicious coincidence that cannot be a coincidence, and while James smiles, Rune's painted red lips slip-slide into a darkening frown.

"The hell?" softly voiced, from somewhere behind him. The bed creeks, and lighter and pill bottle spill from her opening hands onto the scratchy polyester comforter as Rune rises and pads quietly across the room to her packmate as the rainbow colored pack falls silently on the bed.

(decker)
The shower turns off ten, fifteen minutes later. The bathroom is steamed up, the mirror fogged. Dripping, not bothering to grab one of the motel towels, Decker braces one fist against the side of the bathroom counter and reaches forward to scrub a window in the steam. In it, he can see himself, and the reflection seems to transfix him for a moment. Not a cut, not one single scratch in six feet of pale northern skin somehow baked into tanning by an Alabama sun. Blond hair shorn short, fierce grey eyes, a hard mouth, sharp cheekbones, stubborn jaw, slightly crooked nose.

Blood of Fenris: just like Dad.

Then: voices outside. Someone new. Attention caught, diverted from his reflection, Decker straightens, looks down at the water still blasting over his sodden clothes. Probably not a good idea to walk out in a towel. Grabbing up his clothes, he scrubs them the best he can, then wrings them out solidly. Pinkish water dribbles out. Rinse and repeat: the water is mostly clear.

Satisfied, Decker puts the same clothes on again, cold and soggy though they may be. On top of everything, he shrugs into the still-grey sweatshirt, zips it up halfway, and opens the bathroom door.

Steam, scent of soap, blast of Rage: that's what accompanies Decker's re-entry into the room. An eyebrow shoots up at the new girl; a look, up and down; a grunt. Turning, the Modi moves deeper into the room, turning sideways to let Rune slip past on her way to the door.

He takes his seat on the bed Rune just vacated. Scooping up the rainbow cigarettes as though he'd known it'd be there, the Modi lights up as well, a puff of bluish smoke making up his contribution to the carcinogens circulating in the room. "Hell's she?" he asks with a jerk of his head toward the door: loud enough to be heard, not particularly caring.

(james)
again, there's that soft, almost warm, laughter

"Quite allright. Here, try 906."

handing the key back
reversed
seems Mr. Front Desk was dyslexic
though the movement gives Rune more than enough room to see the girl outside past muscular shoulder

hell if he knows what to do

glyph
woman
coincidence
strange night

I do not make the decisions here

(imo)
One hand rubs against the bridge of her nose, watching as Decker re-enter the room, and plop himself down on the opposite bed. A slight eloquent gesture of her hand indicates how much she knows, equalling nothing. A half pause, "Dunno. Apparently she's got th'wrong room," soft cornish tones, speaking drily. After all, if that was all it was, they wouldn't need both Rune and James, would they?

(Terrapin)
She nods and takes the key back into her hand.."of course" she smiles. Hearing the reaction from in the room to her she quickly decides this isnt the place to be and reaches for her backpack..."Thanks for the help, sorry to have inturrupted anything" She looks around for where the hell 906 would be before starting off on her journey. Something about her just is calming, she has pure blood in her, she is confident, however she also knows when it is time to make a grand exit...and from the sounds of the inside of the room, now would be that time. "I will give 906 a try...thanks again" she pulld out something from her pocket in the quilted overalls. "For your help"

(rune)
Behind James, a tall woman with swinging red-sheened black hair spilling across the cut of high, curving cheekbones, shadowed dark eyes and a redpainted frown. Her gaze flickers over the girls figure and absorbs the glyph, and a brief but pregnant pause follows as she absorbs, too, James' deference.

Unsettling, that. Responsibility sits ill upon her shoulders.

"Interesting symbol - " her voice is quiet, but thick now with the rasp of too many recent cigarettes. She's been chainsmoking since the battle, after all, even after they picked up her beloved Beemer. " - I've seen it before. Why don't you come in for a moment?"

It's hard to know whether to accept - the scent of blood is probably too faint for human senses, so far removed from the scene, but there's no pure breed in either of these Urrah.

(decker)
Another grunt, mainly because he was taking a drag and couldn't form words. Didn't want to.

Smoke in. Smoke out. Smearing hints of moisture in a long trail over the sheets, he backpedals on the bed until his back was to the headboard. Knees drawn up, he catches cigarette between two fingers, rests elbow on knees, and presses the heel of that hand against his brow.

Thus he remains for a moment, as though a headache pounded at him. Raising his head later, he looks about the room, taking inventory of the people, the things. Imogen, her files, her guitar, and the traces of Rune and James and the stranger though they were out of sight, just around the corner in the short hallway.

"You wanna go home?" he asks, and this is for Imogen.

(terrapin)
Uh oh...her eyes move to the backpack then to the girl who now has taken control. And this wasnt the place she would expect to see any *friends*
"Symbol" she nods.."um really i dont want to bother you all" she glances to the guy who opened the door...feeling rather inconveniencing (if thats a word)
Someone recognizing that symbol out here couldnt be too good...she tenses up...only slightly.
"Really I dont want to be a bother" her voice quiet...dammit...this sucked...
"are you sure?" one last ditch effort to try to avoid going into that room.

(james)
tense as he's been the past few hours
he could have leapt out the door and cracked her skull in two
he thinks this is going fairly well so far
must be that calming thing
and that glyph, too, that helped

and a brow lifts at the gift
you can't mistake that
not .that.
taking a deep breath for a smile

well, I'll be.

"Anytime."

but as Rune takes over
(he knows his place)
he steps out
or more.... back in
heading back to reclaim his chair
pausing en route and holding out the joint to Decker
(he looked like he needed it more)

purple haze

(imogen)
He smokes, she smokes, pausing in the drawing cancerous fumes into her lungs long enough to get up an take the step it is to reach him, and tap lengthening ash into the ashtray.

For all the arguements she'd put up when she'd been forced to leave, it was hard to see the condo where she lived as home. However, it was better than here.

"Yeah." She replies, honestly.

(run)
"I'm sure." firm-spoken, the words, though Rune hadn't realized it would be this easy. On another night - on any other night - they would be leavened with a smile, or at least a smirking grin, but tonight they sound grim as a death sentence. "C'mon in."

Smoke spills out - old and new, the ashy scent thick as oil in the air - and Rune steps back, holding the door open just enough to let the girl in.

(decker)
Decker scoots forward a foot or so, rumpling the sheets, and takes the joint from James' hand. Leaning back again, she smokes, he takes a hit. Passes it back to James.

Still had most the cigarette left. Instead of wasting it, he puts it out carefully, tucks it behind his ear.

Ten, fifteen seconds later, the slow, steady exhale. Head tilted back against the headboard, he watches smoke diffuse in the air. Terrapin would have to have the mother of all colds not to smell that on the air.

Turning his head without lifting it, he studies Imogen. "Yeah?" A beat. "Bum a ride when you do?"

(terrapin)
And that leaves no choice...as she tugs at the large backpack, which weighs half of her whole body weight. Reluctantly entering the room. Her mind flashes to the movie 4 rooms, and to the room with Quenten Tatantino and Bruce Willis, oh how she hopes this isnt anything strange like that.
She tries not to focus on anyone in the room, and keeps a close eye on the door in case she needs to escape. [not like she could if they were evil]
She stands there quiet...
ok everyone looking at me

(james)
with the joint firmly in place between his lips there's a loong, gloooooorious inhale
(okay, maybe Decker wasn't the only one that needed to relax)
taking place at the foot of the bed the Modi is on
just to keep within passing distance
but he holds it out to Terrapin first
nodding to the open chair on a cloud of smoke
(good chit)

"What's your name?"

she'll have to hand it back to him to get it back to Decker
but at least it won't muck up the rotation
'sides, it was her joint

(imo)
Everyone looking at Terrapin.

She's not. And while the Urrah's are not paragons of purebreed, there's something there beneath the waves and curls of vibrant red locks, the fresh pale skin; something about the blood that flows beneath, some thickness to the blood. It's not something she can hide, even if she wanted to.

Slenderly built, and dressed in jeans and a light sweater, the fabric clinging to her frame, the woman doesn't even grace the other with a glance (too many damned people in this room), dark eyes flickering toward Decker. "Alrigh'. Whenever y'wanna leave," she replies, only then glancing at the small dread locked girl, flickering attention up and down, features solemnly unreadable.

(terrapin)
She looks at the joint...then slowly makes her way around the room, quick inventory...2 guys 2 girls and her...yeah and that did what.....nothing. Slowly her small fingers take the joint..hell this couldnt be too bad, at least if they were going to do something to her, she would go out with a buzz.
*answer the question* Taking a long drag from the joint, making sure it didnt canoe she holds it in her lungs...feeling quite strange..to say the least. One long exhale as she sputters a few coughs out and hands it to the next person...[whoever that may be]
"Im Terrapin" she chuckles.."and yes that is my real name" the chuckle stops..yeah this didnt look like the best place to be cracking jokes..*tap tap this thing on* The smile fades slightly as she awaits the inquisition...*recognized the symbol..*

(rune)
Rune turns shuts the door behind Terrapin, and snicks the deadbolt home as the girl walks into the crowded, smokey room.

Given tonight, let's see if we can get Livingston to check her out. - she doesn't need to say it aloud. The pack will hear her, loud and clear.

"Have a seat," Rune says aloud, reinforcing James' silent invitation as she slips behind Terrapin and swipes her bottle of Xanax from the floor where it fell when Decker slung himself onto the twin bed and dislodged it. "...and please tell me you know what that symbol means."

(terrapin)
She nods.."course i do" and then promptly sits down. fidgeting only slightly with her dreads before laying it on the line
"and since you also do, it means either I found family...or im dead meat" Enough said there...it was obvious as kinfolk, she wasnt quite prepared to fight off much of anything. The sound of the deadbolt makes her flinch slightly..."and im hoping its the first of the 2"

(james)
there's a grin that flashes
Terrapin is far from the strangest given names he's heard
it might also be the amusement of her choke at the toke
either way, he reaches for the joint
takes his piece
and twists to hand it back to Decker

otherwise silent
Rune invited her in, he didn't

though he doesn't mine the blaze

(decker)
Decker looks at all the people piling into the room and makes a predictable decision. Rolling off the bed, he grabs his cigarette just before it falls out from behind his ear, lights up again. "How 'bout now." It's not a question. He rarely ever questions. "Help you pack."

Cigarette between his teeth, he shakes his head at the joint. Another grey-eyed stare for Terrapin - the Fenrir had a stare that could peel paint. "Family," he repeats, snorting.

(rune)
"Me too," the brief flash of a tired grin, the shake of a darkling head, as Rune straightens and slips around Terrapin back toward the door. "Though I suppose it depends which side of the Force you're on. I'm guessing you're a good guy, but I wanna have you checked out anyone. It's a little weird that you showed up tonight."

"I'm Rune, by the way." She tips two - three - pills from the bottle into her cupped hand and swallows them, hard and dry.

(terrapin)
Ah that was a relief...[not] From the sounds of it, family with a hint of attitude.
Eyes moving to the girl, ahhh a little friendlier...[mental note on the pill popping. she had some of those too, and ya never know when it could come in handy] "Oh i see what you mean" she relaxes only slightly..."I was thinking the same about you" she smiles..."Normally I dont expect to find *good guys* out here, isnt there a forest or woods?" she bites her bottom lip..."I came from Oregon...been on a bus all day, and this was the end of the line" Ok hopefully that helped a bit

(james)
hint?
girl you've got something to learn

"James."

grinned
but otherwise, he just stays quiet
letting the buzz sink in

happy that his pack is home again

(imo)
A half shrug, as she pushes off the bed, walking toward where a pile of folders were left after James finally drove her insane with his pacing, beginning to scoop them up, as her other hand shoves the lit cigarette between her lips, holding it captive there. There's very little here of her own. Packing should be easy.

(rune)
"Haven't you heard of Urrah before?" What with the clothes - low-slung black leather pants, and a designer leather jacket cinched at the waist, silk shell beneath it, and good black boots encasing her feet - and the grooming - dyed black hair, manicured nails, painted mouth and blacklined eyes - she didn't look like a country cousin. "I couldn't find my way through a child's terrarium."

Rune's gaze slips from Terrapin to James - apparently deeming him the more responsible of the two remaining here. "I'm gonna go find Livingston. Can meet you here, or back at my place. I've got some calls to make too."

None that she wanted to make, to be sure, but necessary calls, nonetheless.

(Decker)
"Pine Barrens," is Decker's terse response. Thickly muscled at the shoulder, trim at the hips, Decker can be startlingly quick when he wanted to be - but never graceful. He thumps across the floor, grey eyes flicking to Rune as she announces her departure. A nod up. "Yer place."

He was ditching out of here soon. Steering clear of the drawer where the silver was stored, he stands in the center of the room, looking for something he can pick up. If Imogen was a light packer, he was even more so: the whole of his belongings in the room sat on his body. Clothes, jacket (at last, in deference to the growing autumn chill), fetish-axe relegated to a tattoo on his shoulder, keys and wallet in his pocket. At length, he picks up Imogen's guitar and slings it over his shoulder by the neck like a baseball bat.

"James," he addresses his packmate, "we're goin' back to Rune's. You comin'?" A slice of a glance toward Terrapin. Apparently the kin was 'invited', too.

(terappin)
That makes her chuckle.."I tend to keep close to nature..." she looks over at James..then back to Rune..[ok who was Livingston] But she is relaxed now, the THC mixed with the fact that she didnt have to worry about being dinner tonight. At least not so far.
"I'm afraid i dont know what Urrah is" she looks embarrased...
And now she doesnt quite know what to do...she didnt mean to rain on anyones parade, or crash the party in fact she had planned on smoking the perfectly rolled doobe and chilling in front of the TV with comedy central on or something...but she was among family, and was always up for a party, even if the partiers were a bit uptight

(james)
dreads dance over his shoulders in a nod

"Sure thing Rune, I'll get back to your place by morning."

while a place to stay was a place to stay
he's gotten more tired of this room in the past three hours than he has in the past odd weeks
seriously
he'll jump at the chance to go back to the condos
..... without worry of the Dancers showing up

(wait.... what about Asher's little friend?)

something in the haze of dark eyes finding Decker
well, he's going to have to ask something
just.... not now

well.... maybe he'd be there sooner than morning
while Decker's fast yet not graceful
he's got the two pretty covered
half-rolling to the side of the bed and picking up the tattered patchwork trench, and the sling with the rebar in it
already heading to the door

"C'mon. They'll explain in the car."

yea.
They.
another hit before he hands the joint back to whoever wants it
he's a Hood, not a Bogart

(rune)
"City folk," begins Rune's terse explanation. "Bone Gnawers. Glasswalkers. The odd Fenrir."

Some crackling of old amusement slips into her voice at that, and Rune turns away, opens the deadbolt, slips out the door without another word.

(terrapin)
C'mon? ummm ok...She looks at the backpack...then to them as they leave. Aint going anywhere without it...she hoists it up..[must weigh half as much as her] and regains her balance..."yeah ok why not" she smiles and takes the joint one last time...fuck it she wastn gonna waste it.
wondering if she should find 906 first she shrugs it off..life was an adventure

(imogen)
File folders. No clothing. Everything stayed at the morgue, in her own morbid fashion. She brought as little as possible. Only the essential. Her eyes follow Decker as he slings the guitar (essential) over his shoulder, before packing the file folders into a brief case.

Knives.

The quiet woman crouches before the nighttable, pulling out two large sized knives, and a holster.

After a moment, cigarette still clutched between her lips, the brief case is tossed back onto the bed, and reopened. Click. The knives and holster are tossed in, amid file folders and their neatly ordered death. Clunk. It's shut and locked. A minute. Maybe. She's ready, shrugging into her jacket and scooping up her mass of keys.

(decker)
They? Decker the sullen, Imogen the bitter?
Oh, this'll be good.

As everyone gets ready and heads for the door, Decker takes a last glance over the room, makes sure nothing's been left behind, and then follows them out. Room 609. Imogen's 'home' for the past week or so. Door shuts behind them, and that's it.

What about Asher's little friend...?

A good question, that. He'd caught the Gnawer's worried look, but there were certain things he couldn't account for. Too many what-ifs in the world. What if Asher had another five or six packmates? What if the whole Hive came after them tomorrow? What if...

Ding. Elevator comes. Lowering the guitar from his shoulder so it didn't bang in the tight confines, Decker gets in and taps the ground floor button.

(james)
"Well.... you've got the room if you wanna stay there."

shoulders shrugging into the tattered trench
doing what he can to hide his reaction to Decker's unspoken response
(yea.... what if....)
letting the warm fuzzy of the buzz melt away the strange tension
easy going James
that's him
settling back against the wall of the elevator

(terrapin)
And so she follows...why the hell not...Leaning against the wall,in the elevator. Pack acting as a pillow in between. Those dreads making their way far past her shoulders. She was a small thing, small fragile hippie tree hugging smiley happy girl [shiny happy people holding hands] among a bunch of uptight garou who seem to have had a helluva night. Oh what the hell, everyone needs a little sunshine in their world...right?
Balancing the pack she remains still...eyes moving around the group..and hat a group it was.
"you sure you dont mind me tagging along?" last chance to ditch her...

(imo)
She shuts the door behind her with a hollow click, and walks quietly into the elevator, along with the rest of the group. As they go down, she stabs the cigarette out, dead and smouldering in the elevator ashtray, freeing up one hand to pull out her wallet from her jean pocket. The door opens on the ground floor, and she walks out, heading toward the desk, to settle the bill.

The pitiful excuse for a night clerk is sleeping. A few times thwacking on the table to get his attention, and a few moments later, the bill is settled.

Back toward the group.

(decker)
Apparently they didn't mind; no one answers Terrapin. The group's clustered near the door in a loose knot. As Imogen returns, Decker pushes the door open. More herding: the four go out into the night. 2am again. The night clerk probably thought they were nocturnal.

Out to the car. Wait by the passenger's side, get in. Terrapin and James pile into the back, and they're off to the races.

(imogen)
Apparently they didn't mind; no one answers Terrapin. The group's clustered near the door in a loose knot. As Imogen returns, Decker pushes the door open. More herding: the four go out into the night. 2am again. The night clerk probably thought they were nocturnal.

Out to the car. Wait by the passenger's side, get in. Terrapin and James pile into the back, and they're off to the races.

(tuck James into corner when appropriate, cut out of chat)

Posted by james at October 29, 2002 12:00 AM

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