February 04, 2003.02.04.03. - this may end up going very badly [erik-rune][north jersey]
(rune)
Early evening.The sun has gone down (just) and the day's brief glimpse of spring is already fading. Wind rises from the east, carrying with it the hint of the distant ocean, the cold dark expanse of water endless beneath the dark, cloudcast sky. Here the sky is not dark, but rather sullen glowing orange, as the clouds reflect the polluting light of the vast sprawling urban-suburban area of Northern Jersey.
It's the hour when most ordinary people are fighting the rush hour traffic, coming home from New York City, or whatever suburban satelleite office employs them.
Counterstrike is paused on the screen of the plasma television, some vision of bloody, unreal death. Rune - only recently awake, freshly showered, pampered, made-up, lotioned, and everything else that goes along with it - paused the game and headed out to the front porch of the condo for a smoke. Hot pink cigarette tucked casually between her fingers, she lounges against the balustrade, looking down over the steps leading up to the condo, and reassures herself of the presence of her car. Because, really, you cannot be too careful.
(erik)
And it is while she smokes that a taxi, a yellow dcrown vic, pulls up into her driveway. And if that wasn't suprise enough, when the door opens Erik steps out.He pays the driver, who backs out of the driveway and shoots off down the road, looking for another fare. Erik stands in the driveway waiting until the cab is gone before he approaches the house.
(rune)
Dark eyes lift, flickering through the gloom at the pull of pack. Dark brows (finely arched, meticulously groomed) follow, rising in a pair of high arcs, betraying the Glass Walker's surprise. She's dressed in her usual winter uniform: some silky turtleneck, a creamy color with a weave so fine the fabric has a sheen to it, silk, or something like it, and leather pants hugging hips and the long length of muscled thighs, like a second skin. Italian leather, with a texture that would put a baby's ass to shame.Red mouth curving into a faint, irrepressible smirk, she lifts a hand to wave greeting and completes the gesture by sliding her hand through the inky strands of her fine hair. The hand returns to settle on her hip as she takes another drag from her cigarette. As he climbs the steps, she shifts against the balustrade, sidelong, to keep him in view. Such easy, easy motion. "Hey Erik," chin lifting in greeting learned, no doubt (or perhaps absorbed, osmosis) from Decker. There's no honorific to his name, not now, where any neighbor might hear, but there's clear respect in her tone, in the way she meets his eyes briefly, and then looks down and away before looking back. "It's an unexpected pleasure. I don't think I have any whiskey, but I can offer you a beer."
(erik)
He smiles...somewhere...hidden behind those scars. But if she notices it, she had best remember that it is never good when Erik smiles. At least that's what Madison used to say. "Hey cutie. Beer'l be great. Shall we go inside?"Business. All business. Erik seems to have connected with the rest of the pack much more than with you. Why is that? Does it even bother you at all?
Should it?
(rune)
It bothers her. It bothers her more than she can say. Hell, seeing him show up in a taxi at her door at six on a Sunday night - the truck's gone, Decker's elsewhere, Erik can no doubt feel that. If he was looking for his tribemates, he probably would've turned around already.At the word cutie - cutie - the smirk tightens a faint notch. It's probably the last thing she would want to be called (or one of the last: honey, dear, lovely, whatever. Despite her make-up, despite her shopping addictions, despite her fine clothes and obvious attention to her appearance, despite her relentless self-indulgence, surprisingly enough), particularly by her Alpha.
"Sure thing. C'mon in." She turns and tosses her cigarette in the sand-filled coffee can that sits by the door and serves as an outdoor ashtray, then pushes the door open and holds it until he can grab it. Through the foyer, into the living room, with all its toys. The plasma TV (the video game paused there), the Bose stereo, the leather couch, the computer equipment sprawled out through what would otherwise be the dining room. Tossing her cigarettes onto the breakfast bar, she circles to the kitchen and grabs a pair of beers from the fridge (Stoudt's American Pale Ale) then returns to the living room and leans against the breakfast bar. She hands Erik his beer, cracks her own, and pauses long enough to turn down the volume on the stereo (the Clash - London Calling). "...so, what's up?"
(erik)
Yes, he notices the minute tightening of her face. He had been looking for it. And though it pains him, he just can't make himself care. So he follows her into the kitchen to discover that, jeez, even her beer is rich. And anyways, he's suprised she took the 'cutie' thing so well.Imagine that.
"Well, wanted to wait fer James for I got started, but I'm lettin Dire in tha pack." Might as well tell her first.
(james)
six on a Sunday night
that's when the little note he left said he'd be back
he had secured it to the fridge with the two by three inch magnet that was a picture of Bettie Page's less risque but naturally provocative shots - because for some reason it seemed like a natural choice to hang a note with a woman that was anything but the average 1950's housewife
because after he did whatever it was he was going to do
he was going to bring home dinner, toomeaning they can probably smell him about the time that pack feeling hit the sidewalk
one tall raggedy Gnawer strolling up with two plastic bags full of Indian takeout
there's a minute juggling of balance to free one hand to dig out the keys
the door swinging open with a blast of cold air"Hey Erik.... Rune."
(rune)
Everything is pretty much rich, even if she has no visible means of support. Family, likely, out there somewhere. It's how most of them live. Certainly, they cannot hold down ordinary jobs. Not with their rage that would some ordinary, stressful little crisis into something explosive, something wrong, not with the way normal people shy away from them, unconsiously but surely and inevitably.So: family, somewhere. Not that she's mentioned it. Not that she would. Not that he'd ask.
James walks in, with Indian take-out, no less, and Rune inhales. Deeply. "Food. Jesus Mary Joseph, thank fucking god." The faint curl of her smirk, half-a-gesture back toward the fridge. "...fucking Livingston devastated my fridge. Again. Good thing he'll only drink fucking Jamaican beer."
She lifts her bottle in a mocking (self-mocking?) toast and she takes a long, long drink. "Erik came to tell us he's letting Dire into the pack." Her shoulders rise and fall in an easy shrug, then as she returns her attention to Erik. "I figured as much, though. He proved himself on the trip." A reluctant admission, that. But an admission, nonetheless.
(erik)
He nods, sniffing at the food. Damn, he was hungry. That James is a right good fellow.(james)
plastic rustles as the bags settle onto the counter
he's going about unpacking them as he listens
all the little take-out boxes one by one
rendeng, spicey chicken, curried beef, steamed vegetables
he knows what it is everyone would prefer
and even if he doesn't know who's going to be around during the night
there's a fridge, and the pack has no qualms of nuking leftovers
they just have to get to them before Livingston or Luc do
jaw drops in a thoughtful nod"I can trust him at my back, he proved that."
while Rune may not see the specific significance of that statement, the way it was phrased
he's sure his Alpha does
with everything set out, including plates and silverwear, the coat's shrugged off
he's moving away from the food to hang it up
r.h.i.p. baby
he'll take what he wants from whatever they leave(rune)
Rune tips her bottle toward Erik, and nods with a smirk. Take-out, no doubt, is the Glass Walker version of the kill, and of course, the choice bits go to the highest in station. When he's made his selection, she dives for the samosas, first. Deep. fried. goodness, baybee. (Hard to imagine where she puts it, except, of course, she is Garou, and an Ahroun at that, and the body beneath the expensive clothes is all sleek muscle.)The dining room is filled with computer equipment and peripherals. Toys, really. All toys. No one's every seen the Glass Walker hacking anything, unless online shopping counts in some dim, vague sense as business. And so, in lieue of an actual table, she pulls a stool up to the breakfast bar. There are four of them, scattered around. Two usually in the living room, two in the kitchen, facing each other.
"I've got one concern about Dire, Erik." She hasn't touched her food yet, for all that she has filled her place. "He's not particularly... wise to human ways, and we're an urban pack. He attacked my fucking mailbox because he thought he saw goblins, or some such thing. That bears watching, and probably even deserves... mention, or some fucking thing, when you talk to him. It's easier to ignore that sort of thing in the middle of fucking nowhere. Out here, though - " a lifting gesture, the bottle that has never left her hand (not even when she was filling her place) encompassing the whole of the urban/suburban sprawl, "...where humans are packed so densely and there are authorities to worry about, well. There could be some trouble from him on that front."
(erik)
He looks up from the food, following James around as he moves to set it down. Suprised again. Only one bitch, and it aint really a bitch. Well, it don't matter."Yeah? Well, sounds like you have a hell of a point there. It does bear watching. In fact, it -needs- watching. He needs us, Rune, and I won't abandon him. It's as simple as that.
"'sides, he just fits. Like the rest of us aint as fucked up..." He lowers his head then, digging into a container of food. He doesn't care which.
(james)
their plates are filled
and that's when he finally comes back into the kitchen
much less near the food
while rank is privileged, and he's well aware of that
it also seems pretty clear he was seriously hurt in the process of learning that
but rather than skulk around the perimeter, he just busied himself with keeping things neatone plate, piled high with noodles and curried beef and satayed chicken so spicey it still steams
there's little wonder that after trips to the Barrens he dives straight for the Indian take out
if anything is going to clear his sinuses of that pine-sol, this stuff will
that would be stool number three, he takes"The goblins are one thing, but Carmen needs us, too. Dire can't take care of her all the time, nor can he give her the side of the education she needs to survive in the city. Soon enough it'll be time for her to go to school." he know the kid's in the packing package, so to speak "Harder to have pack all the way out in Batsto, but this place isn't childproof, neither is our apartment. And what about his girlfiend?"
one bitch, mostly
it seems whatever he had against Dire has been put aside
Gnawers may be one to never forget a grudge, but fair is fair
or whatever it is that he doesn't trust is what he just plain doesn't say
just inhale that food, Jamey-boy(rune)
They all have their scars, though some are less obvious than others. Hell, she looks goddamned soft, particularly compared to the rest of them. Smaller than the lot (though not by much, and most of the difference in height, at least, compensated for by ridiculously expensive and ridiculously high heels) of them, with that pale soft (and bloody well unscarred skin), and all her pampered ways."We're plenty fucked up," Rune mutters, "Every last goddamned one of us." Echoing Erik's words beneath the cusp of her breath, before falling silent, letting him respond to James.
It's the most bizarre pack of which she's been a member. Of course, it's also only the second pack of which she's been a memebr, and before moving out to Jersey she'd met precisely two Get of Fenris in her ten years in the Nation, urrah that she is, urrah through and through. Suddenly packed up with (count 'em, now) four, talk about culture shock, even now, even fucking months later.
Then: "I'm not suggesting, by the way, that you abandon him, or anything like that. Just fucking talk to him. He spent about an hour explaining to me why he didn't need to worry about the police, arguing with me over a bunch of stupid shit, way back when," - the pause, and the faint flare of her nostrils, remembered irritation - "but last weekend he followed my instructions to the fucking letter. Still, you're tribemates with him, and Alpha. He'll listen to you more than he will to me. Just... mention it to him when you let him know. And from there on out, we can all keep an eye that."
(erik)
He nods around a mouthful of food, and washes it down with a swig of beer. Then he looks up to rune, meeting her eyes with his hoorible, though hopefully familiar, stare. "Yeah, he'll listen to me. I'll take care of it. But Carmen is a puzzle. He's got no Gaia damned business raising that gaia damned kid. And we sure as fuck can't do it... "He digs back into the carton with a fork, an actual fork. Gotta put on airs for the rich folk. And hell, it makes digging for the meat much easier.
"And he aint gonna like it. Damn Metis." And he stuffs the fork full of food into his mouth and reaches for the beer again.
(james)
"I won't say I won't help him out."there's a thoughtful pause to actually finish chewing that mouthful
whatever was piled high on his plate is almost gone, now
old habits die hard, even around pack.... this pack
he's not giving anyone or anything time to steal his food"But I won't be stuck taking care of that kid while he's off chasing goblins, or sitting down to explain to her it's not cool to rip someone's piercing out as a hello. But I don't think you'll be able to get him to part with her, either."
then, as an afterthought
and probably in another pause to actually chew before swallowing
he reaches into one of the BDU's many pockets
pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper with a phone number on it
sliding it over to Erik"Someone Tristan ran into, don't know name or anything much about him, but set off the kid's spidey senses, limped only when he remembered to and talked in two voices at once, much less randomly gave him a contact number. Told him I'd let you know."
(erik)
"If he don't part with she's gonna end up dead. Maybe by his hand. Somehow he's gonna haveta see reason."
than james hands him the numbr and he looks at it closley. Close enough to look like someone who needs glasses to read at all. then he sniffs at it. Then he puts an end of it into his mouth and tastes it. He winks at James. "interestin. Where'd he run into him at?"(rune)
"Kinfolk." The Glass Walker snorts. "Tell him to find a fucking kinfolk to take care of the kid." The Glass Walker's smirk widens, the image of Zoe forty feet up the fucking tree flashing through her mind. " - a fucking human kinfolk. It's best to be real specific with Dire. If he can find someone around here - or even someone willing to relocate and watch after her - he won't have to give her up, not entirely. He could still visit. And then it's on him to find someone suitable - some menopausal woman looking to roost again, or something, so he's not hanging around someone's potentially fertile mate, someone who's barren, for whatever reason. If he can't find anyone - " the Glass Walker flickers a glance at James, then shrugs rather callously. "Well, she's Fenrir, apparently. Y'all can probably find a good family at some Fenrir Sept somewhere."Erik's eating with a fork. James is inhaling his food. Rune's picking apart her samosas - with her fingers, getting her soft hands and pretty manicured nails all greasy - and devouring them.
(james)
the number should taste like his pocket
and whatever's been in there
which probably isn't as pleasent as the take-out
so the little tasting and wink gets a laugh"At the diner on the corner of (street and street)."
then there's another nod
last bit of chicken used to wipe. his. plate. clean."Why I asked about his girl, I don't know if she's kin, or a permanent solution. Much as I like kids," and they both know he adores kids "I don't want her around if she'll end up hurt. With a pack like ours, she will - Fenrir blood or not."
(erik)
He puts the number carefully into an inner pocket of the army jacket and looks up at both of them. Isn't it obvious, he thinks."Aint it obvious? She goes to Zoe. Dire gets to be Uncle Whatever, and I get to be the one to tell him. Understand?"
(rune)
It's Erik's call, and Rune nods - not acquiesence (it's not like he needs her approval) - but understanding. Hell, at least Erik didn't suggest Imogen.That thought should bring a familiar smirk to crawl across her crimson lips, but there's something else on her mind. The Glass Walker flickers a glance at James, drawing in a long steady breath and grabbing her cigarettes. It's a personal rule, she doesn't smoke in the condo. It's a rule often-broken. On the full moon, when it's too cold outside, when she's stoned off her ass, when she just wants a goddamned cigarette, when she needs one, whatever. It's a rule broken now, as she selects one of her colorful cigarettes from the colorful box, and lights up the bright (caribbean) blue smoke. Traces of lipstick cling to the golden filter, visible as she reaches for the clean, empty ashtray shoved to the side of the breakfast bar.
"There's one more thing, Erik." Direct is best, isn't it? Still, she flinches away, and doesn't quite meet his gaze. Decker said he'd kick both their asses, after all, if he ever found out. Her voice is taut as a high wire. "You know, don't you?"
She can only be referring to one thing.
(james)
since he took the stool on the kitchen side of the breakfast bar
a boot toe hooks beneath the lower cabinet and he leans back
streeeeeetching to place his now all but licked clean plate into the sink
(he's learned most of the time there isn't much leftover for seconds, the full meal he had while waiting for the rest of their order to be prepared plus the plate just now has him pleasently full.... at least for another hour)
and more than likely he'll be the one to take care of the dishes later, too
deep umber eyes turn back to the both of them
wasn't exactly obvious to him, no
sure bet he sees the proverbial light, now"Understood."
it's another streeetch the other way
fridge door sucking open beneath his grip
soon three more beer bottles are set on the counter
a Gnawer, and a Hood, he damn well makes sure his pack is taken care of
always put before himselfeven if he all but visably cringes at what the Walker brings up
gaze slams down to give the bottle hissing open in his hands full attention
sure, there's been unspoken comments, knowing looks, smiling shoves
but that's not openly talking about it, is it.(erik)
He looks up at her, clearly annoyed behind those facial scars. and he was gonna just let it pass. For now. Still, its probably best to air it out every once in a while.He doesn't have to look at James to know that the Kid is uncomfortable all of a sudden either. Oh well. You lie down in shit, you stink.
"what about... it?"
(rune)
The red nails of her free hand tap on the counter. Now, the Glass Walker takes her time. Finding the words she wants to say, finding the words she needs to say, finding whatever she should say to her Fenrir Alpha. The rest of the nation have plenty of slurs for urrah. Urrah have slurs of their own for the country cousins. The divide is sharp, and the lines carefully maintained.She takes a drag of her cigarette, exhaling smoke before setting it down to smolder in the ashtray. Her eyes flicker across his face - she catches the tightening of his mouth, the twist and pull of puckered scar tissue, and even if she did not, she can no doubt sense his irritation on a purely primal level.
"You know." The Ahroun's sleek shoulders rise and fall beneath the silky turtleneck, causing the fabric to ripple, practically shimmer in the light. "So I figure, there are some things I should say to you."
Dark eyes - lined and ringed with smokey shadow, rimmed with long, dark lashes - lift and settle on his scarred visage, and briefly find his eyes. It's a human gesture - inimitably human - just long enough to let him know she's no longer flinching, but not long enough to be taken for challenge. These are murky waters they navigate, between the human and animal instincts.
"I won't get pregnant." Flatly spoken, flavored by the ghost of a smirk. "I won't disgrace the pack. Hell, in my own way, I'm doing my duty by Gaia and all that." Glass Walker ways, Glass Walker spirit-tech, Glass Walker... well, hell. They're a strange bunch. If this were a wholly urrah pack, it wouldn't even be an issue. Test tube babies, in vitro fertilization, surrogate mothers, who knows? An Ahroun pregnant nine months out of every twelve isn't much use, no matter what sort of brat she's carrying. "And if he finds a suitable mate, I will not stand in his way."
There's a brief pause. She should, perhaps, ask more, or say more. She won't, however, not yet, not unless he asks. Retrieving her cigarette from the ashtray, the Glass Walker takes a drag and allows her eyes to find her Alpha's gaze once more. No flinching away this time, either. "That's what I wanted to say."
(james)
it's one of those things.... that you just don't want to bring up
even though sometimes you know it's best - gotta air things out every once in a while
sort've like calling your parents to pick you up when you're in high school drunk at a party
will you be praised for calling rather than driving home?
will you be whipped into a pulp for drinking in the first place?
one of those coins where heads can be just as unpleasent as tails
well aware of how drastically things can change when you actually talk about them
he's every right to be uncomfortable
how easy it would be to crawl into the disposal and turn it on
save himself seeing disapproval in the eyes contained above the horrible facial scars
but he's not one to run, from whatever it is, good or bad
so..... he'll just sit here, quietly drinking his beer
the bottle slowly spun between his fingers as he watches them talk
not even the half-hollow clink of glass hitting the tiled counterhe probably shouldn't speak up
revel in the old ways of his Tribe
stay on the sidelines, not to be noticed until the very last minute, or some shit
but he speaks up anyway
so softly, just to clarify a previous conversation"That's what Dire and I got into, and why I didn't trust him because he didn't understand it the way we did...." Fenrir and Walkers and Gnawers all have their own versions of the Litany, that's for sure "... and.... it'll probably come up again if he's in the pack, because he doesn't agree with my ways."
he doesn't ask what they should do about it, should that happen
because he's pretty sure the answer will be to just not let it come up again
so, instead, he just meets that fiercely scarred gaze when it turns to him
whatever Erik'll say, he'll say(erik)
He listens patiently, eyes on Rune, carton of food tipped on its side where it sits on the counter. "So lemme get this straight. gaia put you here, made you Gaoru, so you could fuck the Kid? Ok, listen up you two. Its 'bout time somebody told ya..."One, when two Garou fuck (no candy coating with Erik) the female gets knocked up. Alot. It is way more probable than you think, and if you think a little dick skin (condom?) can thwart Gaia's rules, let me intro you to my friend Dire.
"Two, what's so special about you two? Ya aint supposed to do it, so don't. The litany is that fuckin simple. So don't expect any help from me or mine if a Dire pops out of ya somewhere down the road. I don't help no dumbasses.
"And three, why the fuck do you think he doesn't 'agree with your ways'? He sees fuckin goblins, fer christs' sake." He picks up his beer and empties in, washing down the last of the meal.
"You think about that. Pack don't abandon pack, but pack don't drag pack down the frickin Spiral either." He doesn't ask if they understand. He figures they were ready for that. Probably helped their guilt, and if that makes them clearer on the field of war, that's jim dandy with him. "I gotta go talk to a METIS now, cause he's so damn pathetic he needs us fuck ups to take care of him..."
(james)
he's normally pretty mellow
but listening to the words from his Alpha
something. ex. plodes."No."
that's when the bottle hits the tile
glass shattering
glass biting into his palm
beer spilling onto the floor
that hand reaches out and wraps itself into the collar of army coat
dragging his Alpha up nice and close
(gonna pay for this one, boy)"Pack doesn't drag pack into the fucking Spiral. Pack fucking KILLS the pack that tried to fucking do that to him. His pack. His mate. His. Child. I can deal with you, and Dire, and Decker looking down on me for breaking the mighty Fenrir version of the fucking Litany, because it doesn't jive with the fuck up Gnawer's. But don't you dare think I'm doing that, I'll die first. If you ever plan on saying that to my face again, you better throat me here and now, permanently. I won't let you say it again, Rhya."
fist unwraps
Gnawer lets go
(Get kills Gnawer)
shaking so bad cause his Rage is out of control
shoulders against the fridge, he looks down and away
unable to believe he just did that, but he couldn't damn well help it
way to push that button(erik)
Erik shrugs his shoulders and turns violently, to slap James' hand away from his collar. Eyes blaze, firey and fanatic blue, but that is a good sign. His eyes burn, if they had gone cold there would have been trouble from him. And though you can see his rage and anger in his eyes, the Alpha masters himself.
"So, you both (both? what did Rune do?) think you know the wyrm, then? How it works? How it breeds? think it can't touch you? You'll be safe in each other's arms? You two are fucked. FUCKED! If that's what you think... "
"Let me tell you something. Its the small things. Always the small things. The wyrm don't open great big holes in yer soul. It -usually- seeps into the tiniest of cracks that we -all- have. Why in Gaia's name would you give it a great, big, fuckin pit to pour into? Why?"
Little by little he has been calming, the fanatic fire burning lower and lower, the red color leaving the scars. "Listen, if you two need each others comfort that baddly, fine. I aint fuckin perfect neither. But I'm gonna be watchin. Both of yas. And Kid... next time you wanna grab my jacket... I'm gonna take that hand." And then he smiles, actually smiles genuinely, and it has never been clearer what Erik's auspice is. The Black-Moon, Rotagar, as Decker would say. And he stands there, waiting, in case there are more words that need to be spoken.
Fuck. Trust the Glasswalker to bring it up.(james)
"No."wait, isn't that how this all started?
he keeps the back curve of shoulders pressed against slick fridge
a tight line of concave tension running up his spine
as absolutely furious as he is
Erik's still his alpha and superior
so the Ahroun does what he can to keep a rein on things
(even if the damn fridge is near rattling cause he's still shaking so hard)
his voice is forcibly calmer
but the earth umber eyes that meet and hold the firey blue gaze?
they're just. as. fanatical
somewhere deep inside the Kid there really is a true warrior
it just takes him being backed into a corner to finally lash out"I don't know all about the Wyrm. Nobody knows everything about it. If someone did, we wouldn't have a war to fight anymore. But I've seen how it creeps in. I've seen how it destroys packs and families. I saw how it destroyed mine. I'm twenty-one and still a fucking Cliath but I'm not stupid."
slow and sure, he's pulled himself away from the fridge
after that instinctual apology from the grab
he steps right on up to his Alpha again
he won't back down from what he believes in
he won't even back down from the Rotagar
though his tone is a great deal more respectful"I'm not safe in the arms of a lover. I'm not safe in the arms of an Alpha, either. I believed in Cooper even more than I believe in you, and he fell. I've no guarantee the same thing won't happen to you, one day, only a hope that you, and all of us, are stronger. You can watch me all you want. If I fuck up I expect to pay for it - I'm sure Rune will do the same. So far we haven't fucked up. We proved that down south just as much as Dire proved himself to become pack. It's pack first, duty first, each other later. When there's time... if there's time. And we do it out of everybody else's sight. Maybe it shouldn't have been brought up, but it was. Out of respect. Out of honesty. Out of some sick premonistic curiosity if Dire decides to pitch a bitch about it again. Or maybe, at least on my end, acceptance for what I am and what I do and what I believe in. Fenrir look at what we're doing as a great big welcoming sign for the Wyrm. Bone Gnawers don't. GlassWalkers don't. I live by my Tribe's Litany, NOT yours. I can accept anything being packed with four Get throws at me - but I. will. not. accept that love is wrong or tainted."
when the black moon Garou smiles
the full moon lets a grin slide across his face
there's a lot of reasons he likes the Fenrir
that twisted sense of humor is one of them"Don't ever imply I'm taking pack into the Spiral, again, Erik, and I'll have no reason to grab your jacket. If I ever look like I'm falling, I expect you to take my head."
(rune)
Rune bristled - visibly - at Erik's words, but whatever her natural and immediate reaction, she swallowed it, and hard, when James fucking exploded. She didn't move, then - not a fucking inch - from her seat on the stool in front of the breakfast bar, though her dark eyes tracked the movement and settled on the pair, some grim presence, waiting for whatever the hell would happen next.And after whatever the hell happened next - (better, in her opinion, than could be hoped, after all that) - she listens to the pair. Erik's response is greeted by a faint twist of her lips that could be a smirk, or merely the remnant of bitter experience, and that expression remains as James responds to him.
There's another moment or three of silence - bloody, blessed silence - as she finishes her cigarette and deliberately snuffs it in the ashtray before the damned talkative Glass Walker finds her own voice again.
"I'm sure I once thought I knew, but I bloody well don't know the Wyrm and its ways anymore. The world's a helluva lot more complicated than I'm fucking willing to admit, but I'm old enough to know that." Her nostrils flare with some remnant irritation, exhaling a long controlled breath with too much force. "And like James, if I start leading the pack down the fucking spiral, I expect you to take my fucking head. I shouldn't have mentioned it to you, Erik, most likely. Decker said you'd have our fucking heads, way back when. But - " the brief gesture of her hand, rising, to run through the fine strands of her inky hair. " - secrets, little lies of omission, of commission, whatever, vague slips of honesty, the fucking - whatever, fear? - of being revealed seemed worse than not addressing it.
"And now that it's been aired," the Glass Walker shrugs, an opaque little gesture. "I won't bring it up again. And, hell. I expect you to watch us, and I'm not giving you any other reassurances. They're empty things, really. My actions - and James' I'm sure - will speak for themselves."
[in email progress]
Posted by james at February 04, 2003 12:00 AM
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