April 16, 2003.04.16.03. - flyyyyyin [imogen-siobhan-eva-pack]{noje]
{siobhan)
Was it the moon that had her out on the cold streets tonight? Something about the way it shone tonight...the shadows dancing on the ground from buildings above. The rhythmic clomp of her boots on the concrete.
The moon fueled her...Tonight she was slightly on edge...not a night to mess with her in an alley...
As indimidating as she was, something about her came across almost ironically innocent.
The way the dark wisps of hair fell over her eyes...the way she held herself...So strangely unique. On a night like tonight, the flannel hanging over the black t-shirt and jeans assist in the intimidation look, however on a warm night she could just as easilly have slipped into a sundress and sandals and could be seen as the innocent irish type.
Different bloods in her that were shown at different times Masks worn at different time and she could play the parts well.
Didnt matter anyways...tonight she was just
out for a walk
No real reason...just passing through town...again, and she throught shed pay a certain condo a visit...
maybe ighten the mood or change the mood anyways, depending on what the mood of the night was(decker)
STONED.
...is what he's been all day.Stoned. Sprawled. Lengthwise. On the couch. One arm trailing across the floor. The other hand on his side, loosely cupped over the already-healing wound. Joint dangling from the corner of his mouth.
Next to Dire, one supposes, though whether or not the Skald really enters into his consciousness is dubious. In front of the tv, which is tuned to the Home Shopping Network. Can't really get aggravated over that. It's the Great Decker Smoke-In, and the fuckin condo smells like People's Park in the 1960s.
Curtains are drawn.
Rage is empty.Isolated and wrapped in isolation, he's waiting for the ceaseless pull in his blood to give up. Look at the moon... His moon: full moon. Look upon the face of she who has blessed you...
Or cursed. Your choice.
Half-lidded eyes. Another joint burnt to ash and tossed lazily into the ashtray. Lingering in the wake of the gesture is a static-electricity crackle of rage-that-could-be. It never does go away completely, ever. On the tail of the last joint comes the next - hand reaching for his baggie, feeling around slick debrised plastic.
...empty? Fuck him. With a groan, the Modi pushes himself up on his elbows. Room wobbles. He puts a hand on his head. Potchoked voice, "Don't tell me Rune fergot to stock the fuck up..."
(dire)
He pokes at his wound and grunts softly, Blue eyues rolling in thier socted to connect with decker like an aircraft carried at full tilts running over a small little japanese fisshing troller.
"She did.
You smoked all that reeking SHIT"(siob)
It's a good thing she knows what kinds of party favors to show up with...or perhaps peace offerings, she hadnt really gotton too close to anyone here...A closed book..certainly didnt wear her feeelings on ehr sleeve..except about her father who she loathed
Stopping at the condo, she re-aquaints herself with the area and counts the condos until she finds the right set of stairs and heads up
clomping up the stairs...and knocking
surprise...avon calling
Not(james)
Blessed.
Cursed.depends on your outlook, really
if you ask the bag at the gym that's been split open like Sunday's side of beef.... well....
but that was an hour ago
since then the Gnawer's been moseying on home
finally making his way up the condo's front steps
boots clomp thickly on the terra cotta tiles of the front balcony
he even goes so far to wipe them on the mat that says anything but 'welcome' on a night like this
key's hit the door
and the door swings open
oooooooh lordy lookit the layer of smoke hanging out beneath the ceiling(Don't tell me Rune fergot to stock the fuck up)
not even a hello
not even a wave
not a damned thing to acknowledge his packmates(She did. You smoked all that reeking SHIT.)
one hand goes into the left cargo pocket of the BDUs
one glorious baggie of green pulled out
one glorious baggie of green slung towards the Modi
(incoming!)
apparently, Rune just forgot to pick up(luc)
Keys jingle.
Tumbler turns.
Sparling teeth......and Luc with a girl.
Our franco-germanic teenaged beanpole has turned in quite the ladies man. [--riiiight.] But Eva they've seen before, hanging around the place, drinking the beer, eating the food-- and crashing on the couch. [...since when did this place turn into a youth hostel?!] when NOT in Luc's room.
Well you know it goes--
Party Hard.
Die Young.
Leave a good looking corpse."--shit they're in the living room." the faint notes of embarassed annoyance creeping into his voice.
(decker)
Grunt. "Fuck off." Better than the alternative.Fall back. Wound aches, but distantly. Marijuana really is medicinal after all. A hand passes over closing eyes, stays there, shielding them from even the fitful flickering of the TV. One package of green soaring through the air aimed straight for his ripped(-up, in this case) belly until
whisk-smack.
the hand over his head suddenly whiplashes out and pulls the baggie out of the air. Totemlink. Or maybe his ears were just that damn good.
"Now yer talkin'." Some sort of grim humor, there. He sits up with a grimace, tossing the baggie down and arching hips up to dig in his many and myriad cargo khaki pockets for the rolling paper, annnd...doorbell rings. And then? Door opens.
Likely three sets of eyes snap up toward the offending door. Earth's heart umber. Glacier's heart blue. And storm's heart grey.
"Fuck's that, Lucian?" demanded; not enough tact for a goddamn silent totem-message. Door was open; night outside is cool and silver with the moon, and he wasn't. gonna. look at Her tonight. Slouching back with the nascent joint rolling up between his fingers on his thigh, "'N who the fuck else's out there, Luc?"
(dire)
Hr grunts looking um over.
"That... is a female Decker..... want me to tell you what they're for?"A bit of a smirk. he prods one of the HOLEs in his shoulder.
(imogen)
They all have their addictions (except perhaps for Dire and his sensitive nose), and she has chosen hers on her own. Two, actually. Alcohol and nicotine. It's beer, however, so she can last for some time yet as she steps out onto the porch, shrugging her shoulders deeper into the suede jacket, one hand occupied with a beer bottle, dangling by her fingers, the other hand sliding into the back of her jean pockets, searching for cigarettes, which would likely be the reason she's stepped out into the cold on the full moon.Her eyes flicker toward Lucian, and his girl, and then Siobhan, as well. Dark blue eyes consider, and then flicker away toward the parking lot, the darkened street beyond as her hand slides through her wealth of burnished red locks, pushing them away from her face.
Cigarette pack is pulled from the pocket, fag tapped out. Light up, the flame of her bronzed zippo washing warm light across her face, briefly. The flame died, and she's left with the light of the orange ember of her cigarette as she exhales smoke.
(eva braun)
Luc. Is with. A girl.
Not just any girl either. Punk princess that’s been seen around before. Jeans, leather, thick hair (that might be blond but under the die, who can tell) in a myriad of braids that fall over shoulders to midback (and yes, it’s. all. Hers. Not a fuckin extension one, baybee.) There’s a smirk at Lucian as she hooks an arm around his shoulders and does that long ass drag of dark eyes under sooty lashes over Decker’s oh so unimpressive form before cigarette is pulled from lips to allow her to throw back “The fuck you care.” Smirked in reply.
Dire, James, the person at the door, the thick load of smoke heavy in the air. Now we’re talking… Luc gets a slap on the ass. “gimme a beer, you.” Before she’s moving across the room for all the world like she owned the joint, leaning against a convenient wall. As for the rest of the question? Up to Luc – she don’t know, and don’t fuckin care.(sio)
She stands outside still..eyes making their way around the room as the door seems to still be open, and there were people all over the crash pad.
The moon shining down from above, bright in the sky fueling inside her...
She recognized some faces, didnt remember any names...and she stands there...
a thing of beauty..a dangerous beauty
"Was in the neighborhood" a quick glance towards Decker...
no more words, she wasnt a chatty type. Hands resting on her hips, the smell from the condo wofting out...One could get a contact buzz from the air alone..(james)
one with ripped(up) abs
one with ripped (punctured) shoulder
and the Gnawer? doesn't ask
he's looking back at the door
(earth. ice. wind....all they need is fire - she's next door)
brow lifting towards the frame of dreadsLuc he recognizes
Eva he recognizes
the third? he's seen somewhere before....
by the fact he doesn't do much more than look and then head inside to the fridge - that glorious baggie is already short a few joints(decker)
Grey eyes just stare at the chick for a long...
...ass.
.time."..." smirk. New-rolled joint slid between lips. "Yer right. I don't." Moving on then: Siobhan. The same careless (read: stoned) lazy look at this newcomer. Dear old sis. Where's his fuckin matches...
"Ain't dead yet?"
(luc)
Past the Death-Metal Phase. Luc and the pack of musical-junkies [..wanna know what else some of them were hoped up on--geez, its JUST experimenation.] sailed head first into hardcore punk. None of that Whin "Emo" shit--just straight, testosterone filled, kick-your-ass, punk. He smirks as she answers Decker, doing a double-take as Decker continues to stare."Fuck you lookin at, Deck."
Youthful testosterone, full moon, or careful calculation to allow Doctor Imogen [..Medicine Woman..] to hear. Luc isn't stupid, but that kinda shit ain't kosher. Off to get SOMEONE a beer, "Anyone wan'anythin?"
(sio)
She coughs to get his attention and tosses the green bic towards Decker.."heads up"
Taking it upon herself to step in and close the door...No one had sent her away, and she wasnt expecting an invitation...not from this pack..
Eyes move to the wounded...."whats the other guy look like" a few short words...figuring whoever Decker had fought, was probably worse off then he was..
Eyes slowly move to the others...stopping on each one, trying to place who was who, she remembered the guy with the dreads, and Dire...that was all..."naw not yet" she smirks...
Still standing in front of the door...
(dire)
The other guy is sitting right beside decker eating a sandwhich. His brows rise and he stands. and stands and stands. 6'6" lanky. But still built with mussel. Jean shorts, no shirt as his shoulder and arm are still healing. Get tattoo over hs left brow. He advances on Siobhan. Stops and looks at her a bit. Leans over. Sniffs. Blinks. Strightens up. Sniffs again... then a third time before returning to the couch and eyeing decker."She stinks same as you?"
(decker)
Grey eyes slide sideways to Lucian, narrow. Smirk crooks a little more. "'S what I'm tryin' to figger out."What is that, anyway? Did she have ropes comin outta her head? Oh fuck...he was flyin. Shut eyes. Open eyes - green bic incoming, slow motion - whisksmack - caught.
Grunt of thanks. He lights up. A pause. A jerk of his head at Dire. Like that. Another pause. "Went a l'il. Nuts."
(james)
by the time Luc and Eva finish their.... introductions
James is already rooting through the fridge
(mun. chees.)
blindly passing back a couple beers to the younger of the pack's pair of lanky Skalds
(what the hell do they FEED them when they're pups?)(eva)
Eyes slide over Luc as he walks away, cigarette returning to lips for drag taken, exhale adding more smoke to the already heavy air as she slips from her leather jacket. Tight. Ass. S’getti strap maroon tank top tight enough to show the outline of matching set of nipple rings… Leather studded cuffs on each arm – three on the left wrist, two on the right, bracelet around left bicep, choke chain around neck, with one end sliding into cleavage. Coat is dropped at her feet until Luc picks it up later (oh and he will.) returning to her reclining lean against the wall, thumb hooked in her pocket.
and dare we begin to talk about the piercings? Both ears – 15, 8 in one 7 in the other. Eyebrow, nose, lip and nipples, and below the belt. Ask Luc.
Gaze returns to Decker, and slide over him again. “Y’ain’t so much t’look at yourself, man.”(sio)
Went a little nuts..probably an understatement..but she says no more bout it.
As she gets sniffed her eyes remain on the guy...
"hardly a compliment" she replies to the 'stinking like Decker' comment...
Considering if she remembered right, he could work up quite a stench...Now she moves towards the couch and sits down so much for waiting for an invite...patience wasnt her greatest quality
She was about to introduce herself to the rest who lingered in the room...when the girl speaks....
And so the introduction is held off..she just quietly watches the others..
She just wasnt one for a whole lot of words..and especially where she is the stranger.(dire)
Dire pauses in mid bite as Siobhan joines Decker and he on the couch. Looks over her heead at Decker and back to her. Blinks and mutly offers her a bite of his huge meat and cheese sandwhich. Mayby if he fed her........(decker)
Lazily, Decker flips Eva the finger and then is distracted by the huuuge sandwich floating across his viewscreen. Weedsmoke wreathes out of his nostrils on the exhale. He passes the joint to Siobhan (or drops it on her lap if she ain't interested) and grabs the sandwich instead."Fuckin' starvin'." Sudden realization, this. And another one: "Where's Billy?" He doesn't remember killin' 'im, so there's still hope.
(luc)
Oily mass of blonde hair is hidden under the green-striped black woolen cap, steel-link dog-tags clatter in the same hue as steel colored eyes. Apparently no one else wanted a beer -- shit more for them and spots James...There's a certain kamikaze look that German's have, particularly skald. Like thier hovering between happy and pissed continually. The grim line of set lips cracks into a wiiide [..a charmer, huh?] smile. Taking the beer from James, "Concert was Slamming--two guys had to be carried out man--" James who understood his affinity for music like few others...
But the teenager was already out of the kitchen shouting back to the raggedy man, "Lil'Eva kicked this bitch-dude in the head and he SANK like the fuckin titantic.." Already lomg strides is taking him to the LAST fee arm chair, both beers in hand.
(james)
"Who was it this time again?"the Skald probably told him
but at this point we're not counting on long term memory for anything
the Ahroun's looking up with a grin
he understands the affinity for music allrighteven with his head stuck in the fridge
(that chilled air somehow quite fascinating)
he can hear the jacket whoomph onto the floor"Forget where the hangers are again, Eva?"
murmured, basically
(sluurrrred)
but it's loud enough to hear
(he's had a talk with her about that before....)
though not interesting enough to take his attention away from the fridge
he's made a sandwich several times over in his mind
now it's getting the rest of the body to coordinate a full scale attack
then we're good to go
(okay. more. than. a. few. joints.)(dire)
He pulls the sandwich back from Deckers grasping hand and wacks him.
"Get cha own you nippyu little Bitch.... I wasn't offerin' it to you."(decker)
Decker takes offense at that.Fuckin moon ain't the only source of rage around here. And that Dire's messing up his carefully preserved zen vibe is just pissing him off that much worse. As Dire tries to grab the sandwich back, Decker hangs on with an iron grip - and the sandwich rips. Spills meat and tomatoes on Decker's lap.
Pothazed grey eyes are sudden very hard, very sharp. And he's suddenly very quiet.
"Don't think I like yer tone, boy." Deliberately, a tomato slice drawn up from his lap, flicked at Dire with a snap of the wrist. "'N don't you think I fergot 'bout yer mouthin' off last night, neither."
(sio)
A nod to Dire, although she wasnt hungry...perhaps ore of a silent thanks...but Deckers interception is fine with her...
Taking the joint she pulls the smoke into her lungs and holds it while passing it back towards Decker...he certainly had the talent to manhandle a sandwich and a joint at the same time...Now another joined the room..or was it two..probably a good time for some sort of introduction
"Siobhan" (Che-Vonne) She says out loud to the room...
Merely watching the different personalities mesh together in the small (assuming) room.(dire)
He flickers hte peproni back at Decker and growls deeply. (( meat and cheese,))"Good. Hopfully you'll remember it all. Now leggo my sandwich."
He takes a vishious bite of what remains in his hand. Almost pointedly.
(eva)
“Little? I’ll show you little, ya bitch.” Smirked in some sort of amused affection kinda as she pulls from the wall and steps over her jacket with a snapped look toward James, and the ever universal roll of dark lined eyes before yeah – she sweeps down and grabs her jacket, and hangs it over Luc’s shoulder. “better?” snorted as she grabs her beer and drapes over the back of the chair Luc’s claimed. Nails slide into Luc’s hair, pulling that cap off to let crimson sharpness play over scalp, idly. “Someone had to drop kick that fucker and teach him some manners.”
(luc)
"Hell yeah he did, but he didn'spect no bitch, t'do it." High praise, indeed. To be sure Eva was prolly once of the toughest chicks on the scene.Reap the whirlwind, baby.
His head is leaned back as her fingers play against his hair the beer pressed to his lip and lowered into his lap once more. Long-long-long legs stretchout before him--one foot balenced on the coffee table. A brow lifts as he hears the awesome-twosome argue again.
"Y'all are like fuckin heckle an' Jekyle." Eyes still closed
(decker)
Decker's stare is hard and steady beneath goldlashed lids. He's silent as a building storm. The sandwich is still held in his hand, and as Dire watches (...because the Skald at least knows not to be lookin him in the eye...), another slice of pepperoni slides out and splats."You been pushin' my buttons on purpose, Dire." There's a slur on the name: Di-ah. His chomp into 'his' half of 'his' sandwich is decidedly pointed. "You been pissin' me off but good, 'n I'm 'bout through puttin' up with it. Fuck's up yer ass?"
(dire)
"You fucking pissed me off the other night you motherfucking asshole that's what pissed me off. You shit sucking fuck!"
He stands up and throws the other half of the sandwich at deckers noggin and heads out."Fucking thought __I__ would do tht shit!"
(dio)
Nothing like drama...
and she wasnt involved in it,
even better
she had offered her name, to those who may have wanted it, didnt seem like it was much of an issue anyways...
The battleing men on the couch seemed to be the object of interest. Leaning back into the couch, listening...and waiting to end up in the crosswind of some sortt of brawl..which was fine..shed remove herself from the sitation when the time was right...And alas..the one get sup with a tantrum of some sort and food is flung through the air...
waste of a perfectly good sandwich
And so she watches..
like a tennis match...back and forth, back and forth, and think, she just got here...(eva)
“See the look on his face man? Fuckin priceless. Last time he grabs some girls ass like that I’d wager.” head tips back (finger.tighten.in.hair) as beer slides down throat. One gulp. Two. Three. Back down again (re.lax back into idle play), long arm sliding down to drag the beer bottle over Luc’s chest draped like some feline caught between that rest and play moment, knowing she could purr and sleep, or attack with nails and teeth at a moments notice.(decker)
"Sitcher ass down, Cliath."It'd be laughable: Decker, stoned (...though that haze is burning away awfully fast in the face of his mounting rage...), bandaged (big bloodsoaked white thing wrapped around his bare torso), and now wearing slices of turkey, ham and beef. It'd be laughable if it wasn't Decker, with his motherfuckin rage quotient flying through the roof.
Sparks are flying from his eyes, and they sure as hell ain't the healthy proliferative kind. He waits til Dire sits his ass down.
And waits a little longer, sneering grey gaze drilling holes.
"Do what shit."(dire)
He spins and points "THe girl in the alley! YOU thought I Raped her!" His finger pointing. Pissed himself but like decker out of rage.(james)
by this time, the Gnawer's finally foraged enough to make a sandwich
(or four, knowing this crowd)
bread, two types of cheese, ham, turkey, pepperoni, mayo, mustard
fuck the greens
they are Garou!
they are predators and warriors!
(rar!)
lettuce is rabbit food and they exist on the green of weeeeed"Well, most assholes don't expect a chick to be able to beat the fuck out of them."
there's a grin tossed at Eva
(yeap, 'preciate that)
cause the chick that owns the condo is one that could whoop most of their asses
and since that's not Eva, she's not the one with rights to fling clothes around
(except... in... Luc's room.... but we won't go there)
he doesn't go near Dire and Decker's conversation, either
just quietly going about making that sandwich (or four)
wondering if he should sell ringside tickets for this(luc)
"Fo'sho."Despite the yelling carring on his own side conversation. Interesting is the occasional fight.
Its this everyday shit, the daily re-run-ran over-again. [...and HOW MANY TIMES can you watch the odd-couple before 'classic-status' looses its lustre.] And at Dires last comment he just smirks head rolling back and up to Eva.
"--you said you LIKE hanging out here?!" She can feel it the heat-wave exhaust of his rage, couched so cleanly in his own -controlled- manner. Still screaming its presence in the vaccum of rage Felix & Oscar provide.
(sio)
Wasnt that the truth..
most assholes dont expect to have their asses beat by a chick
That makes her smirk...how true that was..
Sometimes just that premise alone was a reason to go out looking for trouble..usually on nights like this, when the moon was full
She cant help but give him a nod, whether he catches it or not...
Eyes move to Eva and Luc who seem to be enjoying the show as well..
This show would be so much better if she had more of a clue who everyone was and what the hell the story was, oh well, she was notorious for being able to come in the middle of a tv show, and catching on pretty quickly
(imogen)
Party time at Rune's Condo, it would seem. The smell of weed must harrass the neighbours, particularly those that are unfortunate enough to live beneath them. Next door, considering how often the door has been been open in the last ten, fifteen minutes, and since it's still open now, the smell is certainly discernable.The stink of weed hangs in the air, even outside, and mixes with cigarette smoke as she follows a relatively simple pattern, inhale, exhale. By the time the cigarette has been consumed to a final rim of white around the filter, the beer is equally finished. The glass clinks softly against the faux stone of the balcony floor, as her attention flickers toward the condominium and its open door before her hand runs through her hair, a quick sharp movement. The yelling, too, Dire's words not understood, but heard clearly now.
Eventually someone would call the cops.
The cigarette is stabbed out in the ashtray, on the way down the stairs; the bridge that can be put down to go between both condominiums is ignored as she takes the steps to the ground, crossing the greening brown of the lawn between the two seperated buildings and starts up the other side of the steps.
(decker)
"Made a fuckin' mistake." One thing about Decker: he ain't afraid to spit the truth out. If pressed. Picking meat off his shirt and flinging it aside, then, "Heard screamin', went red. Fuckin' accident."Their respective rage might have been depleted, but it sure as hell was coming back now - crackling through the air. "But you." Decker's on his feet then, throwing his half of the sandwich down on the coffee table. "You little shit. You fuckin' tried to bait me to a fuckin' frenzy with Imogen standin ten. fuckin. feet. away. Fuck's the matter with you?"
He was gonna save this talk for after the full. Really, he was.
(eva)
The chuckle that falls is from somewhere deep in her throat, her beer bottle tracing over his chest idly as she arches a brow, killing her cigarette with a final drag and handing it to luc to find an ashtray to extinguish it in… “I said” pauses, eyes flickering over to Decker and Dire even though James gets a wink (yeah, yeah, yeah. Just make sure you don’t go there tonight) before she finishes her comment. “It’s a fuck of a lot better then my place.. even with the bobsy twins over there.” His rage crackles over her skin, close as she is, and it’s what drew her to him in the first place… dwarfed as it is by the Twins over there snarling insults over some poor woman trapped between them. “Laugh a fuckin minute.”
(dire)
He waves his hand "We all make mistakes Rohl. We all do. ME more than most of you because I don't know all the HUMAN shit yall do. But I say I'm sorry." He grunts and throws his hands in the air and then growls at the pain in his right arm."Yeah I pissed you off because you pissed me off. And after she left I took the rage out of you. I took the ass whupping because it was my fault. You think I like getting bit by your nappy ass?"
He points to his own wounds
"I KNOW where your moths been. If I was an ASSHOLE I would have let you go HOME like that..... "
(james)
one Gnawer
four (count 'em. four) Get
(five with Siobhan, if he knew, six with Imogen, if she was here)
after he makes that sandwich?
he settles on the stool behind the counter
(ready to duck. and. cover.)
siiiiiilently inhaling that food
last thing he's gonna do is step in the middle'a that(sio)
Like sands through the hour glass..so are the days of our lives..Only this was more a mixture of The Osbournes and Jerry Springer..she was waiting for the next guest to be introduced...
She had definately been missing out on entertainment..
(luc)
Since WHEN did he become the peacemaker. [...never expect with teenagers.] His nose wrinkles briefly and he grunts. "Wanna settle this one, too?" Its a joke [...sure.] no really he SWEARS its a joke. See, he's getting up, vacating much vaunted -armchair- status to the girl.[...don't think about it.]
And running a hand through the oily mess of blonde tips his head as he stands to his full height. standing in a strange blend of intercept [between the two blades of DOOM.] a look off teenaged-brand annoyance.
"--why don't we fuckin talk 'bout this shit next week. I'll bring the bats y'can bring yer asses."
From the mouth of babes.
(imogen)
If she was here. Five Get (one ex-Fianna)Up Rune's steps, mostly the idea of shutting the door being the best plan. Angry Garou. Full. Fucking. Moon(s). It's a wonderful breed, great mixture. She must have heard her name as she reaches the doorway, and pauses before shutting it. Instead of completing the intended motion, her eyebrow lifts faintly, a slow arch of a coppery brow as she pauses.
It could be because it was her name used in the arguement (she's not the source, but she was there), or simply that Decker was involved that keeps her from simply shutting the door. It could be she flat out refuses to walk away from conflict, not because of who she was, or who they were.
Breeding here, so even Siobhan, who has never met her, can recognize her as one of the Blood, the song of heroes, the memories of deaths. Someone had done great things, in her family. Someone with red hair like hers, perhaps, like a flame caught in the strands, all the colours of autumn sunsets. She stands, now, sideways, back against the still open door (room for others to leave, room for her to get the fuck out of the way), fingers sliding through the burnished strands, pushing them back from her pale cheekbones, away from her dark night blue eyes.
(eva)
There’s a smirk as he starts to get up.. “Between them too? No fuckin way, get my ass handed to me for sure, and I’m on a nice pleasant high…” beer bottle and nails drag over him as he stands and she contemplates stealing his seat…
…or getting a sandwich.
…or ordering a pizza.
Hm.
She pushes to a stand then, stretching, before her jacket is pulled from where it fell to the chair, draped over the back, smokes found and to the kitchen long legs carry lithe frame in teenage saunter. James is munchin – gotta be something good right? Naturally he made extras too… fuckin Gnawer’s always do. If not, well – we all know Luc can’t make anything for shit… she’ll have to fuckin feed his ass again to assure he’s got the energy to last the night.
(decker)
CRASH. Decker's foot - bare, we might note - goes right the fuck through Rune's expensive artsy coffee table, shatters the glass, catches on the frame and flips it the fuck over. Luc: ignored. Siobhan: ignored. Eva: ignored. James: ignored."You think you know my rage?" - so very quietly, while blood begins to stain the floor from his foot. "You think you kin play with it?" Every sentence gets a little colder. "Jerk it around fer fun?" A little quieter. "You think it couldn'a possibly gotten outta yer control." A little harder. "With you tellin' me Imogen's gittin' fucked by Billy. While Imogen standin'. Ten feet away.
"You really think you coulda stopped me. If I went red. Turned the fuck around. 'N went fer her throat, Dire?"
Imogen: entering. Not ignored. Grey eyes flick over, back. Are cold. Decker - with an obvious effort - sits down again, picks up his battered half-a-sandwich, and aims it for his mouth.
Stops. Nails Dire with another glare. "When the full's past, Dire, you 'n I're gonna have a good long talk."
(dire)
He points "You didn't listen to what I said. I didnt say she was. " He waves his hand. "You can kick my ass any time. I think we both know that. What's the point? I'm going outside for a while. If you want to TALK, let me know."(decker)
Teeth gnash, but the Modi keeps his quiet - and his now dubious cool.(luc)
Imogen.
[Mmmm.. Imogen-Imogen-Imogen.]But Eva is in the Kitchen so hooden glance is -not- caught, exhale as Decker sits down but he remains RIGHT th'fuck WHERE he's standing steely eyes flickering back to Dire.
Decker was only half the equation. And he's already gnashing, Dire's going outside and--maybe his country-uncles weren't so dumb fer livin in the woods anyway.
Hot.
The temperature in the room is dangerously hot, he crosses to open a window, a gust of chilled night air crossing the room.
(james)
Eva saunters over in her lithe teenager way to grab a sandwich
there's a grin (how do)
Imogen (there's five!) enters to stand by the door
there's another grin (howde do)
but right now there's not much that can tear the Gnawer away from food
not even the two Get (crash! wince) bristling in the living room like some sick Shakespearean tragedy
either he's too focused, or too fucking sedated (good. damn. drugs.) to get his own hackles up'sides, it's between Decker and Dire
he's got no place to get into it anyway
no matter that they're pack
Get way to settle it amongst themselvesbut by then he's finished his own brand of munchies, fingers licked clean
that last plate's picked up on the way around the counter towards the living room
holding one veritable stack of bread and meat and cheese
it's handed off to the Modi as he passes by - and keeps going right on out the doors onto the back balcony(dire)
Stomping out he sits on the rail tryng to calm down. Grumbles and pushes the Goblins that come too close over the rail(eva)
Fortunately for the lanky skald that glance was –not- seen, because her eyes are for the food (food!) and a returned grin for James as she snatches a sandwich, and steals his vacated stool and makes herself at home. Imogen gets a glance, slight nod, then dark gaze under smoky lashes watch Luc slam open that door, smirking around a mouthful “Laugh a fuckin minute..” before bite is washed down with beer, clatter of bottle on table, and nother bite taken.(sio)
Yeah...tonight wasnt the night for any dysfunctional family reunion...
obviously..
hey cant say she didnt try..
Getting up she takes one last glance around the room...she still didnt know any of them, didnt get anyones name, wasnt even acknowleged...
wasnt a big deal, less names to remember..
Smiling at Decker she heads for the door..."keep the lighter..." She heads to the door, no more words, not angry..
it was just time to go...(dire)
He looks up as SIobhan comes out and nods
"Sorry about that.... issures..... I'm Dire."
(decker)
Fly-by sandwich grabbed with a grunt that might've, in another life, been a thanks. Fuckin' great. Rage back up and running. Fuckin high worn off long ago. Hungry and thirsty, and pissed off. Foot's all fuckin cut up too.Old tattered sandwich discarded. One hand clamped over the new sandwich, he leans down and starts yanking glass out of his foot. This endeavor takes a few minutes. Afterwards he slumps backs and stares moodily at the shards of Rune's coffee table exploded all over the floor. Modern fuckin art: the ultimate in self-expression.
A bare flicker of a glance up at Siobhan as she heads on out. "Yeah, whatever." Lighter? He looks around. It's still in his palm. And he makes use of it now, picking up that half a joint Siobhan left stubbed out in the ashtray, lighting up again.
Nearly growled as Imogen's nightsky eyes fall on him and his bloody bandage, bloody fuckin foot, "Fuck you lookin' at?"
(dire)
He looks up as she comes out. SHoves another goblin off the rail and nods. "Sorry about that in there.... I'm dire."(luc)
Luc: Defender of lost kin.Maybe the kin-duty is just imprinted on his head, the glass in the window cracks as she pushes up-up-up [--WAIT! it doesn't go THAT high.] and the snaps turning around. "--don'chyu' fuckin talk to her like that." Getting between Decker and Imogen now? Bad place to be--
"Lame. Ass." And he stalks across the room, the oversized lampost of a boy, plack shirt stretched across broad-boned frame. One day he might have muscles to fill the concave [..steely..] form out--now its all bones and gristle. TV is kicked off with his boot, the flickering image fading as he goes to the CD player.
(imogen)
She watches the arguement, and what she hears, what she sees in dead silence. That she is subject of some of the words, some of the sentences, would be almost indiscernable, at least to those who are not familiar with the redhead. The slam of a bare foot through the coffee table hardly warrents a flinch. She steps aside so Dire can get out, and she watches him as he passes her, dark eyes shaded by brown hued lashes, eclipsing any thought she may have.The opening window and the still open door causes a breeze to begin to lighten the miasma of marijuana the air currents casting the scented air to be replaced by cooler, clean air. The air within the condo lowers a degree or so. It might be a relief for all within.
Her eyes pass across the room, quick. Familiar, some. James gives her a smile, and it's not returned, but at least a flicker of attention might serve as a greeting for her. Siobhan is really the only unfamiliar person in the gathering, and now she's leaving, a flicker glance of the small woman, as Decker's sister passes. Eva, smiles, too, and it's only really when she's taken stock of everyone in the room before she glances at the Fenrir Modi, a quick sharp passing of dark blue eyes across him. Bloody foot. Bloody bandages. Storm grey eyes. The movement of her eyes flickers away, in some vague turn away, perhaps to some point, tell someone something. Who knows. Look where James had left. Turn to look at Dire as he speaks to Siobhan.
In either case, Decker's snarl of words draws her back, those same nightsky eyes narrowing faintly into blue triangles. The space of time between her eyes moving away, and returning is brief, but the space of time before she answers is longer. "Nice to see you too, Rohl," she answers, mildly, soft british accent, european coloured words. Her words however, are lost beneath Lucian as he speaks, coming to her... defense, of all things. Her head turns to look at the tall lanky Skald and simply regards him for a moment, dead. stare.
(decker)
That's fuckin' it. Decker gets the fuck up off the couch and stalks off down the hall. A wavering trail of smoke marks his passage. The wall-shaking SLAM! of the door marks his destination.(eva)
Concentrating on inhaling that sandwich, downing that beer, and the look had been missed before but the crack of the window and whipsmack of his voice brings head up in a lock on dead on glare at the lanky skald. (fuckin talk to her like that…)
Eyes. Narrow.
The difference is slight but the bristle between shoulder blades that causes her to stiffen is not. He would recognize the look if he wasn’t facing the CD’s. it’s the look that fucker got half a second before she dropkicked his ass. Eyes slide to Imogen (red-haired goddess of someone’s wet fuckin dreams apparently) and then back again. Last bite of sandwich taken and chewed carefully (Snap of teeth. Rend. Tear. Shred.) before bottle is tipped back and drained.
(dire)
He grunts and heads down the stairs with a muttered "Asshole!"(luc)
Dead. Stare.He's fiddling with CDs [..rage against the Machine.. NO! Uhm..Yanni?! --Radiohead gets popped in.] And the Vollume turned WAY up. He can feel the prickle of the red-head's stare on him...
Moreso his own bitch [...fear Eva. FEAR HER.] a few yards away, and he's still fiddling withthe damn CDs he's learned his damn lesson--don't mess with Get-chicks.
Kin or no.
(eva)
He’s fiddling with the CD. Radiohead gets popped in. Volume turned way up. And still the stare is leveled on him with an intensity that she knows he can feel. Empty beer bottle clatters to the counter, lighter grabbed, cigarette propped between painted lips, flame set to end and inhale sends paper and tobacco crinkling red to pull poisoned smoke deep in her lungs.
Lighter lowered, plastic bic now tapped lightly on the counter in tattoo to her rising ire (Best fuckin look at me boy. Getting me another fuckin beer might save your fucking ass…)
Imogen? Ignored.
(imogen)
Decker stalks off, and while she doesn't glance at him as he walks past her, her head does turn to watch him go, leaving tracks of blood in his wake. An exhalation, quick, sharp and frustrated, before she steps further into the condo (Lucian forgotten, or ignored for now), shutting the door behind her.Further into the condo now, not toward Decker and the hallway, but instead toward the back porch, skirting easily around the mess that was made from the remains of the coffee table. Back porch, James smoking a joint. Possibly the safest, considering the circumstances. Or maybe she had something to say to him.
"Still high?" she inquires as she pushes open the screen door, pressing her back against the door jam to look at the Bone Gnawer, a hand sliding quick and sharp through her hair.
(james)
the screen door slides open - smooth and quiet compared to what just happened inside
dreads slide over muscular shoulder - just a wifebeater, scars showing on his back from under the thin fabric, his Rage keeps him warm - and the Gnawer turns to look at whomever's come out to join him
and a grin slides lopsided to see that it's Imogen
she may be able to peel skin with a patented glare, topple tall Modi's with a single look
but she's still his friend"Fllllyyyyyin'."
looks like he's more than high
probably sedated heavily by..... something
one long arm stretches out to offer the joint
balance precariously held by the press of boots on the balcony railing
that chair's probably tipped back a liiiiiittle too far(luc)
Blonde hair tousled [...by her fingers.] and that square lined jaw-tensed, can you feel the moon. Stretched into another wiiiiiiide smilr as the crouched figure looks up at the punk-rock-girl [..you look so fine..] and he rubs the back of his neck.."Got food?"
(imogen)
"Good." Few things she has send in maybe a hundred conversations have sounded as heartfelt as that single word as she finds out the Ahroun is still flying high, and what's more, he's offering her a hit.The fine tension to her jaw is truly the only outward indication of her ... whatever it may be. Frustration, tension, annoyance. That and the fact she takes the offered joint without a bit of hesitation.
She steps outside completely now, the screen door swinging shut behind her. For the moment, not bothering with conversation (though she might have a reason to have come out here, other than simply getting out of the den of rage), as she takes a long hit on the joint, before extending her arm to offer it back to him, trapping the fragrant fumes in her lungs.
(eva)
Blond hair tousled by her fingers, square jaw tensed, and finally he looks up to meet her gaze and she just stares at him for a Long. Ass. Time. (fall from grace) “Depends..”
The word draws out, eyes fall from his to give cigarette careful consideration as she flicks ash off in the nearest tray, watching it travel most of the way to her lips before dark eyes snap to his again, and lips curl into a half smile (caught by mercy) and pierced brow arches.. “Got beer?”
(james)
he can hear the genuine tones in that single word
and that he has inspired it, for whatever reason, widens that smile
(others need, Hoods provide)
while she's taking that glorious hit
using their cure-all to lessen some of her own emotions
he's leaaaaaning that chair forward
metal legs spanking the terracotta tiles
weight rising to shift over a chair
offering a place to sit and stay awhile that doesn't include having to navigate around his precarious balance
finally stretching to take the joint back and refill his own lungs
he doesn't say anything either, knowing her well enough by now, if she wants conversation, she'll start it(luc)
Wiiiide Smile.
[..did we mention that?]Long rows of white teeth [..all the better to eat you with.] grows as one edge of his mouth turns up in a smirk. Its a hard thing to describe, is quietness and the feeling that he might [...on a full-moon? Bash your brains in.] not be the human skin, that curves so neatly about him. We all wear masks...
He shakes his head at her and leans back against the carpetting bit of glass cracking under the weight of his boot--and extended leg. "Yeah ah'm hidin it wanna find it?"
(imogen)
Silence can, at times be pleasant. Spend five, ten minutes with her, and often one will find that she dips into silence more easily than she can compel herself to speak. Her head turns toward him as he shifts, offering a chair, a shake of her head slightly. "I'd rather stand," accented voice altered by the hit still held in her lungs, expelled now in a slow exhalation, a blue grey spill from her lips.He's got his feet up on the railings and after a moment, she leans back against them, resting her elbows on the railing, eyes flickering upward to look at the sky. Unlike them, she can stare at the moon without consequence.
It's not a conversation, really, that she starts, but a comment, "I've room numbers for those in th'hospital? From the labs. We'll need t'go sometime durin' visiting hours; preferrably soon."
She'd rather not visit them at home.
(james)
there's all sorts of silences
some are the electric ones before the storm
some are the uncomfortable ones that cling and linger
some - like this one - are rather comfortable
he doesn't take insult to the decline of his offer
he'd make it regardless
that's one loooooooooooooong drag before abs buckle and he's leaning forward to make the next in the line of selfless offers
nodding rather.... thoughtfully
(more than likely shaking the information into some semblance of sense)"Whenever you think is best."
not exacty "whenever you're ready"
ready equals now
and perhaps the weight of his rage, however magically sedated, may not be helpful
but he's leaving that decision up to the Kin(eva)
Wiiiiiiiiide smile. (We mentioned that.) And she? Continues with that little half smirk that watches him. Dark eyes under dusky lashes slide over him slowly… missing nothing, not even that crunch of glass… (…shatter…)
Movements are deliberate. Smoke inhaled, held in lungs before flowing free in exhale that follows the fall of arm and kill of butt in tray. The push away from the counter that leads to the drop of feet to tile that leads to the flow (feline) of lithe frame to stand. The first step as eyes meet his dead on (…dare…) as she moves around the bar and toward him. Slow. Stalk.
Until she’s joining him with crackle of glass under denim covered knee, hands on his shoulders, pushing him back to the floor with a (mock) growl low in her chest… “What did I say about hiding my beer, boy…”(luc)
Rage. You hear it spoken of all the time, but what does it MEAN? [...she growls HIS chest rumbles as he leans back] glass crackling, under the weight of his shifting posture. To some people its like mace, the weak always run. To some people its like heat--burning up.To some people its like magnetic waves. Thrillseekers, baby. [...lets play a game of Russian roullette.] six to one, you get get a smile. His hands slide up the sides of her arms and pulls her closer..
Vice-like.
[..that -one- its a killer.](eva)
Rage..(Against the dying of the light)
Glass crackles under shifting weight and she flows against him with a sharp inhalation as vice-like grip settles on arms… the exhale falls across his lips as she arches a pierced brow, braids spilling over shoulders to tickle along his cheeks, slide along jaw, fall to the glass below them as she chuckles… deep and dark.
Rage. (do not go gentle into that dark night…)
Some would say she’s crazy, some would say she’s one smoking bitch… bad girl to the extreme. She? Just. Smiles. Nails drag up his sides, pulling shirt to bare skin to her wicked whim, sliding under his shoulders to dig in along muscle to pull herself closer, pressing him into the glass to bite at his back as teeth snag his lower lip and pull it free…
(R.A.G.E.)(imogen)
She takes the offered joint, plucking it from his fingers, and turning it around to set the hand rolled joint in her mouth, the irregular circle of burning ember flaring briefly as it eats into the paper, and she takes another hit. Her weight shifts, and she straightens, leaning forward to offer him the joint back.He's taking another hit, and she's exhaling before she speaks again, a small lift to her mouth, strangely wry, absolutely mirthless, "Let's wait until the full moon is well and past, shall we?"
(james)
that strangely wry, absolutely mirthless lift to her mouth gets full on laughter falling out of his
just -too- amused by that
hand wiht the handed back joint waving around like some grand conductee"Nooooo worries. Any clue on how we're going about this?"
(imogen)
A faint snort, a half smirk, near smile, amused somehow, if only distantly, "I'm going to go in and lie to them. Provided y'don't scare the bloody 'ell out of them," her accent is, often slowed and made more precise because quite frankly, the majority would not quite grasp her country tones (and someone once told her that she spoke like she was uneducated, and she vowed she would not hear it now), but it thickens slightly now, the candences of her tone beginning to slur together. Three words can just as easily be one. "... You should ask any questions y'think of. And perhaps be sure they dint survi' because the wyrm want'd 'em to."(luc)
...I had a dream last night.Mercy, Mercy [...I'm made of parts..] steel grey fixate on confection of pierced-pain and hunger. Her teeth-his lip, and who IS the predator here? ...its her. Eva is pushed [--only means i want to PULL you closer..] backward with than same grip ..c.o.n.t.r.o.l...i.s.. even as Luc moves forward unfolding-unfolding-unfolding- endless length of bones and muscles pushing, weighing, pinning...
she was on fire last night.
..and I was breathing gasoline.Tension, clouds every muscle, every tendon, every nerve. [..snapses firing away--] instinct. instinct. instinct. And he shoves her back "Fuck man..." Teeth gritting as he scrambles off of her
--whats up his ass?
(james)
he can't help the brow lift
the Good Doctor?
Lie?
oh this'll be rich
just.... richher tones begin to slur together
his have been slurred all night
Imogen and James
Kin and Ahroun
grunts for the pack
what a pair they be"Allright, I'll try to think of what I can to be helpful."
foundering a bit on this one
he's got brains to back the muscle
but interrogation isn't quite his forte
at least with the moon thinning next week - it won't be the damned inquisition(eva)
She flows with the backward push, graceful and lithe as if the music itself slides under her skin rather then from the speakers somewhere above them. (…lose.control…) pushed, weighed, pinned..
(…inhale…)
nails slide teasingly along skin, holding him close as tension bleeds through him, before instinct makes the decision and shoves her away, lanky frame scrambling away.
The growl this time is nothing close to what it was before (seeing red. Flaming curls of crimson hue. Red.) but something altogether feral and frustrated as she pushes braids back from her face, and simply lays there, staring at the ceiling. Counting. Backwards. From 100.
She may not have his rage, she may not have his gifts, but goddammit she has the same fury of any woman scorned. (Hell. Hath. No.) finally through gritted teeth “th’fucks wrong with you.”
(imogen)
The smirk widens faintly at the arch of an eyebrow, her head canting slightly to one side, as she considers the expression. After a moment, she doesn't comment on it, quite, instead answering perhaps the expression of foundering, the thought in it."I know wha' t'say. It's jus' if y'hear anythin' they say? An' somethin' comes to mind." Her shoulders lift, a slow languid lazy shrug, "I don't know everything that you do."
Ahroun and kinfolk, on a reconnaissance mission. It shall, at the very least be interesting, and will put to test his skepticsm as to whether or not the good doctor can lie.
(luc)
She can feel it. His frustration and the half finished beer swept up as he moves to his feet pacing the length of the livingroom in GIGANTOR beanpole steps. His eyes shift from left to right and back again."Bad Night, Eva." Ooo he used her name.
(eva)
Muscles crunch and pull lean form upright. “Seemed all right before that fuckin redhead showed up.” All the way to her feet and her leather is grabbed from the back of the chair, glass crunching under the soles of her boots. A pause, and when he paces near her she spins and grabs his shirt and shoves him against the wall. “Next time you ask me t’find something, ya better be damn fuckin sure I’m what you want looking. Got it?” And she’s pushing away, stalking toward the door. Bad night indeed.(james)
there's a nod, he can dig that
and it's not that he thinks the Good Doctor can't lie
this'll just be something to see, that's for sureby then, the joint's been smoked down to nothing
only enough to sacrifice to the almighty Roach Gods
and his feet are recoiling from the balcony to reach towards the tiles again
long body unfolding from the chair in leeaaaaaan stretch
heavy sedatives catch up even to the strongest of Garou
(the fuck was it.... 10cc of Ketamine?)
hands scratch through tangled dreads
and that's about when he hears the snarled phrase inside
(muffled through the glass as it is)
brow lifting a bit to look towards the balcony doorthis.... can't be good.
(luc)
He's rubbing the back of his neck, she standing in the doorway-- (Got it?') and for a minute [...never. Ever.] for a moment she feels this rush-crackle-snap of heat that shoots across he room and affixes to every nerve in her body.RUN.
And its gone just as quickly, really he [..the joker..] is not smiling right now, not in the FUCKING least. Not that it was a bad idea for her to leave --it only makes me want to chase you. Raw Heat that proceeds her exit and his velocity toward the door one hand slamming on the doorway beside her head. His neck muscles slackened to allow head to hang just above hers.
So close he can TASTE her breath.
"--then git." Don't ARGUE with Get-women.
(imogen)
The snarled sounds from within, muffled through the glass of the outer door, results in a sharp turn of her head (So out of contrast of the slow movements of only seconds before), her eyes narrowing toward the sounds, her head tilting faintly to catch perhaps words. The girl is still speaking, so it's none so bad as it could be.Her head turns slightly, the path of dark eyes making their way back toward James a quick glance, perhaps to see if he intends to do anything, before her attention returns toward the sounds within. Listening, in quiet silence, a bare frown creasing her brow.
(decker)
Grriiind--BAM.Window opens hard, letting the cold night into the (too-)warm room. Decker climbs out a beat later, barechested bandaged bloodscented Modi. Unfolds up, grabs the rain gutter and swings over to the back balcony: like Tarzan on a vine. Whomp. Feet hit the deck. Nod up at James. Glance at Imogen; not quite a nod up; helluva lot more in his eyes. What? Who knows. Sandwich and joint both disappeared some time ago; washed the blood off his hands, too, and a quick shift took care of the sliced-up feet. Too bad it didn't take care of the coffee table out front.
Speakin of which...the front of the condo faces west. The moon's sunk into the west now. The back of the condo faces east. Any guesses to why he chose the back?
(...other than the obvious, of course.)
Leaning back against the wall near James, he filches the last of the joint away for one last long drag. Then the roach is flicked burning over the edge of the balcony. His eyes follow its arc. He rubs up, hand curving from the back of his skull up-up-up over the bristle of his hair, dropping off his brow where his hairline ends.
"Fuck's Luc doin'?"
(james)
attention swings the other way when the window grinds open
he doesn't seem all that surprised at Decker's choice of approach
just a simple nod up
then attention swings back around again
absently waving off the filching of the remnant joint
as if he'd ever argue giving over the last drag anyway"That's....... what I'm not sure of."
though by the way it actually has the mellow and sedated Gnawer's attention actually narrowed and focused on a singular thing that isn't food...
that can't be good
he isn't actually staring back through the glass inside
that would just be rude
he's just got a bare shoulder against the doorframe
umber eyes watching the ground - listening, feeling, some things just don't need visuals
(and remembering how he was as a teenager, probably better not to look)(eva)
There’s a moment A moment. That every nerve sings in reply to the sudden wipsmack of heat that begs her run. But she. Never. Ever. Runs. Even as quickly as it is gone and as quickly as he is slamming a hand so near her head.
She doesn’t flinch.
(Chase. This. Motherfucker.)
And his head is hanging over hers, near enough to taste her breath, near enough to discern the smoke laced sandwich that passed over tongue moments ago, near enough to know the get woman is damn. right. pissed. off.
“If I do. I ain’t comin back.”
Until he asks. Until he begs. Until he is damn well fuckin sure where his loyalties lie. Speak now, boy – or forever hold your pieces… (gonna hand ya your package, boy.)
(dire)
He comes meandering back twords the condo. He doesnt 'go home to Carmen or Danni like this. H'd bumped into Ligingstone higher than a kite and 3 sheets to the wind a while back and he'd been healed. So he's feeling better in that reguard. In other's he's still pissed. Approaching the condo he heads up the staris.(imogen)
From her angle, she can't actually see through the glass door, leaning against the back railing, elbows supporting her weight easily. Her attention swings, like James toward Decker as he takes the unconvential way to the back porch (who can blame him, with the moon setting in the west and Luc and his girl in the living room?), a moment's regard, before away, finding a new spot to set her attention, as her hand slides into the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out a package of cigarettes. Silence again, as her other hand tucks back strands of hair away from her face.(dire)
Up the stairs pausing to stomp a goblin into paste and then up to the deck Across the deck and he pauses seeing Luc and the girl. Takes a deep breath and lets it out slow. Luc didn't do anything to him. Girl was kinda cute in a fucked up weaver sort of way. He'd wait.... a bit.(decker)
Fuckin' ask him-- cut off before it's born. Decker cocks his head and listens for a moment. No roaring. All quiet on the western front.(Quick check on the totem...good.)
Shifting bare shoulderblades against ass-freezin-cold stucco, the Modi shakes his head. "Livin'ston still got Eagle's Might." The pack worked this out beforehand. Livingston, lowest-raged of them all, is the official Eaglekeeper when the moon rounded to its zenith.
Moon's setting in the west now and pulling in his blood; blood the salinity of the tide; tide pulled by the moon. Full circle. Full moon. Night wind is cold on his skin and colder on the bloodwet bandage. Wound's been weeping blood and lymph all fuckin' day.
(luc)
He sucks in his lower lip. Measuring her words [..each with the weight of sonic boom.] the twisting of tongue against the surface of lower teeth. "Fuck it, E." His eyes widen briefly somewhere caught between the -need- to explain himself...And the need to flip her off.
"Th'hell I been pissed off all night--you WANT me to take out on you?" His words are a heated whisper, wrack the tendons that hold lanky form in one piece.This singular moment is the end of the goddamn world. Every single injustice rolled into her stubborness and way colored 'ropes' hand from her head. A heated exhalation and he walks across the front porch, to grip the rail. "Why y'gotta make shit HARD?"
(dire)
A growl from the door. "You wanna get it out? You can take it out on me..."(james)
no roaring
no smashing
no leaving the kin alone on the balcony now that Decker's here
(it's that just in case clause that Ahroun has developed)"Good."
about all he's gotta say about that
Gaia help them all if one of the fullmoon's got hold of Eagle on a night like this
already pack's been tearin' at pack - literally
he's no worries about the Theurge tokin' it up with the totem for a few days
there's a bit of a nod towards the two
apparently the good also doubled for good night
and he's braving the teenage hormones (can't you SMELL it??) that waft out on the staling smoke when the balcony door slides open
luckily, seems they're out front now
seems he might get upstairs and to sleep before the screaming starts
that tranq's hitting him hard, the stairs seem to be leaking away but he's diligently chasing after
(piiiilllllooooooowwww)(eva)
“th’ell you asked me to come to you then, asshole? Fuckin’ell Lucian – I ain’t the one sending fuckin mixed signals here. Ya know damn well what I want.” Caught between the need to kiss him – and kill him. Right here, right now.
Every moment rolled into his and he walks across the porch and she snarls a growled frustrated sound from somewhere within. Hand slams against the doorframe and she turns to press forehead against it lightly before growling ”fuck.”
Bloody. Fuckin. Hell.
She turns and flips dire off “mind y’own fuckin business man.” Before she’s stalking to the other end of the porch and falling into one of the chairs and lighting another fucking cigarette. Feet stretching out to cross ankles on the railing.(decker)
No particular visible acknowledgment as his packmate leaves. They seemed to have a sort of familiarity with each other, the Eagle pack, that can preclude such things as hellos, goodbyes, words.Acknowledgment of the unspoken goodnight is present in his very presence. It's there in his form, in the texture of his skin and the air he breathes out. James goes in and Decker passes a slow thoughtful hand over his bandage. Pulls it out a distance and looks in at the taut, torn flesh beneath. Gettin' there. Not that it was making any progress whatsoever in his form.
Door shuts as James leaves. Like iron to the lodestone, Decker could probably point over his shoulder and through the condo, unerringly in the direction of the sink moon. Could probably trace its path with his finger through the starbright sky, even having never once seen her face tonight. Children of Gaia and chosen of Luna, the wolf-shifters, and to deny their chosen moon costs dearly.
It's worth it.
Slow breath in, and out. She ain't pack, so she can't be acknowledged just by presence alone. He flicks his gaze toward her eventually, skating over features remembered and known and, now, seen.
Faint smirk. "Been hidin' out here all night?"
Posted by james at April 16, 2003 12:00 AM
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