April 17, 2003.04.17.03. - somethin' harder [pack-eva-imogen][noje]
(james)
at some point last night, he caught up with the retreating stairs and found his way up to the waterbed
that, in itself, was a near tragic experience
but soon after the swandive towards the pillows, the Gnawer passed. out.
lights went off even before the bed stopped movingthe fuck kinda tranqs were those??
ones that hadn't yet worn off by evening, that's for sure
if it wasn't for the call of food, he wouldn't have climbed out of bed
or slithered into.... well hell... seems he somehow got out of his clothes.... BDUs, fuck the wifebeater, that's too complicated
or stumbled down the stairs
or even attempted conquest of the FrigidAire
however.... there! is! success!scrambled eggs inhaled
(siiimple)
one beer down, second one on the way
the Ahroun isn't even attempting to find that place called sobriety, he knows Luna still hangs heavy in the sky
he'll attempt to find the couch instead
today must have been a maid day
cause there's no glass on the living room carpet anymore
even if the skeleton of the table still remains
Rune's not gonna be happy about that one
not. at. all.he? doesn't think about that
he? digs in pockets of those BDUs for cigarette pack that must have a joint left(imogen)
She likely received little of the massive sleep that James got to enjoy. Considering the time he left her on the back porch with the Fenrir, and the time she must have left for work this morning. Well. There are hours of sleep missing there. Not that it seems to be anywhere out of the ordinary for the good doctor, and nor is this pathetically late homecoming.The warm weather of earlier this week has faded away to be replaced with nearly freezing temperatures once again as she steps out into the thirty five degree weather, a hand reaching up to draw the collar of her suede jacket further around her neck, as she closes the mercedes door behind her, beginning to across the parking lot, the hand that had so briefly clutched her collar now reaching beneath the fold of the jacket to remove the metal beaded necklace that holds the badge of her profession, fingers idly wrapping it around itself, slowly, a careful motion, as her head turns to glance over her shoulder. The moon hangs pregnantly still in the sky, a heavy orb of silver, obscuring the stars and eclipsing them with Her light. A day past full, and things could hardly have improved.
Her badge wrapped securely with the beaded thread, she shoves it into her pocket, her fingers brushing the cigarette packet, catching the cardboard to draw it out, pausing on the side of the walkway, to pull out a cancerstick, apparently not caring to wait to reach the condo's porch before lighting up.
(eva)
The door to Luc’s room has been shut. tight all day long until now. Stumble of sleepy doped up Gnawer doesn’t even dent the sound of music that still thrums – softer then usual, as they were as passed out as the rest of them. None-the-less, sometimes ya gotta pee and you can’t ignore the call any longer.
That’s about when the pierced princess emerges from the room. Same tanktop that’s tight enough to show the outline of matching set of nipple rings, makeup scrubbed off at some point before they slept, face teenage fresh and clean, if pierced multiple times, and a pair of Luc’s boxers hanging precariously off of slender hips, leather silver-studded cuffs and chains still on wrists (janglejangle), choke collar still around neck, one end sliding into cleavage. Summertime hot in here, and she didn’t wanna pull on the jeans just for a trip to the bathroom. The whole look and brief parade shows off the edges of bruises nicely though. Press of fingers into thigh, hip, shoulder, upper back. Press of lips neck, neck and..well.. below the neck..
Shorter without the shitkickers that sport a 3 inch heel, only 5’9” but carries herself as if she’s always taller then the rest. Teenage sleepy stumble toward decker’s bathroom (you do NOT wanna know what’s in th…oh! must be a maid day, it’s not too bad.) not even looking down the hall to see what else lurks in the condo, just inside, shut the door behind her.(rune)
There's an (almost) full moon in the sky, and blood on her hands, blood on her hands and an (almost) full moon in the sky.It all fits together, somehow.
The Beemer pulls into the parking lot and idles in its space as the Glass Walker listens to the end of the last song on the CD with her eyes half-closed. There's something wrong with shutting off the Clash with ten seconds left on the CD, and so she remains there an extra ten seconds, idly scritching at the spatter of dull crimson staining the tender flesh flanking her nailbeds like so many bloodied hangnails.
Imogen is briefly caught in the glare of headlights, before Rune flicks them off. Abruptly, the low purr of the Beemer's engine is cut off, the door opens, and the tall Walker swings her long legs out and onto the pavement.
Rune's thumb flickers over the remote key and the alarm system tweets in response. Like Imogen, Rune's already fumbling for her cigarettes well before she reaches her porch (or even the sidewalk for that matter) and some visible relief of tension is apparent with the first lungful of nicotine after a long drive.
Rune's not dressed for the weather, and so she takes the sidewalk in long, sweeping strides, the steps two at a time, brushing past and up and inside with a brief floating smirk of acknowledgment for Imogen, arms curved close to her body for warmth. Somehow, she manages to smoke her cigarette a quarter of the way down during her passage. She pauses at the door and flicks a glance toward the sand-filled coffee can that serves as an ashtray, but thinks better of it and heads inside.
(decker)
Yeah. Okay. Inside Decker's bathroom? Decker. Stark-fuckin-naked, dripping wet from a shower, not even bandaged up yet. Real lovely gashes on his side. Healing, but not quite done yet. Tomorrow night they'll be pink lines; night after, nothing. He's got Rune's electric razor in hand (who gives a fuck what she shaves with it, he washed it but good), plowing it over his scalp to get that hair down to a nice quarter-inch of blond or so.When the door starts to fly open, his hand snaps out - palm hits the door - shoves it forcefully closed.
"Occupied," snarled grumpily.
(james)
he doesn't need to hear the car to feel her
(where ya been all night, baby?)
in fact, he doesn't even open the eyes that are already closing as head leans back against the overstuffed back of the couch
(moon explains it all)
he just waits
pretty much ignoring the sound of..... someone..... making the potty trip out of Luc's room
(they move already?)oh no, he just diiiiiiigs out that joint from the pack
and all praise Gaia, there's a bic stuffed in there, too
there's gotta be some satisfaction in that
writ in the way dreads bunch up around bare torso as he sllliiiiiiiiides further down onto the couch
lighting up that J with a looooooooooong drag
by the time the Walker's in the front door, he's holding it out to keep the rotation going(dire)
A sound from the hall by the door. The scrape scrape scrape , click, the door opens and dire steps out od the hall closet. He's in lupus. Long legged gangly lupus. He takes almost a feline strech a yawn with one of those curled tongue things and then shakes out his fur. A yip and he sniffs the air. reaching around to nibble at a flea on his flank(eva)
“Fuckin prick.”
Door slams in her face and her comment is snarled as she slaps the door in response, and reaching behind her to pull the band that’s wrapped around the mass of braids (keep them out.of.the.way) free, letting heavy ropes fall over shoulders to midback. Crimson-tipped nails scratch through them to scalp before there’s a roll of eyes and she turns and heads toward the kitchen instead. Food first. Pee later. Apparently.
Heels of hand digs at eye, getting there rest of the sleep from her face before pausing midstep to stretch lean form, then continue on toward the fridge. Half a thought to going back and putting makeup and clothes on. Ditched as too much trouble at the moment, still. James gets an arched pierced brow in something of a ‘morning’ Rune gets a slight wave, then the door to the fridge is opened and the search begins.
(dire)
He pads into the kitchen after Eva sniffing around. As She opens the Fridge door Dires snout goes right up between her legs from the rear. SNIFF SNIFF.(rune)
It's automatic. Almost as if programmed to do so - some strange, synchronous dance - the Glass Walker pluckes the joint from the Gnawer's hand and passes him her own cigarette as she breezes by him, heading straight toward the mecca that is refridgerator. Although she can rummage and sulk and stare at the unchanging contents as if they might transmogrify before her eyes with the best of them, she doesn't tonight. Tonight, it's find what you want, and take it. It's still the hunter's moon.Bottles clink musically as she shifts them around until she has a nice assortment in the six-pack: Oktoberfest, Blue Moon, two Stoudt's American Pale Ale, Stoudt's Amber, amd a raspberry wheat ale for good measure, just in case anyone's feeling fruity. She grabs herself a seventh bottle (someone's planning on drinking tonight) and hipchecks the fridge door closed on her way back toward the living room.
Each movement is some lesson in easy, natural concert. She's kicking off her shoes as she rounds the side of the leather couch, giving lupus Dire the eye The fuck are you doing in my fucking closet? and taking a second toke off the joint and holding her breath as she reaches to set the six-pack on the table and the
table.
There was a table here.
Her arm is suspended in the act of letting go, only distal joins of her fingers curved through the handle, and the smoke inhaled a moment ago comes spilling out of her mouth in a long choking gasp.
"The fuck is my table?" Pause. Breathe. "Where the fuck is my fucking table?"
(decker)
Bzzzzz.... Tiny short hairs shorn off even shorter. Evenly 1/4" front hairline to nape, now, he sets the electric razor down and passes a hand over his head, turning this way and that in front of the mirror to make sure he didn't miss a chunk, like badly mowed grass.There. Perfect.
Conventional razor (cheap, plastic, bic, razorburn) rinsed off in a sinkful of tepid water. He starts shaving his jaw, holding the skin taut with the angle of his head. He felt like a damn Mach3 commercial. Hardbodied nordic-featured young man shaving in front of mirror. All he needed now was the cool visual effects. Oh yeah, and someone to drain that
RAGE
from his eyes. Rinse again. Set razor down. Open medicine cabinet, get bandages. Start binding it up, looping the gauze around and around his torso. Massive, huge waste. Who cares. Tape it down and he's done, leaving the steam-hot shower behind ("All yers," grunted in Eva's general direction) to stomp back into his bedroom. To get dressed, and all.
Inhale: can still smell her in here. Drawers slide open. He gets clean underwear out. Clean shirt. Semiclean pants. Lays them out and looks at them for a moment, blankly, as though considering if he really needed this or not. Then it passes. He gets dressed.
(james)
it's automatic
he relinquishes the joint and gains..... a strippa pink cigarette
(countdown)
he's just siiiiilently inhaling that expensively smooth smoke into his lungs
listening to the clink of bottles drug from the fridge
(three)
tipping his chin a bit as he feels Eva pass
(two)
that greeting probably encompasses Dire as well
(one)(Where the fuck is my fucking table?)
the Gnawer peeeels himself off the back of the couch
reaching to carefully take the beers from their precarious perch hovering above where glass should be
her cigarette still dangling humorously from between his lips
jungle vine dreads dangling crosshatchingly over the ashen scars on his back
teeth press into the gold filter to keep the nic-stick in his mouth as words sort've tumble free"I think it pissed off Decker last night."
(eva)
The pass of Rune was noted – and the fridge is getting a damn good lot of workout tonight. Recently hipchecked, it’s now under the study of the Get Kin.
And apparently. Mangy-assed-Dire. Not. a muscle. moves.
Her voice low (specially when compared to the snarled GROWL of Rune in the other room…) and snarled “You gottabout half a second to back the fuck off before I find something to bash your fuckin head in. ya fucking perv..” Fingers reach for a beer, and some carton of left over something or another. The bottle hefted easily enough and aimed at the fuckin lupine freak between her legs. Hand holding the takeout carton of something or another hefted in acknowledgement to Decker’s grunt.
(rune)
Shift up, Dire. The brush of her mind against his, threaded with the fast-burning short fuse of the Ahroun's anger even as her mind ranges beyond the immediate, beyond the apparent. It feels like a moment of expanded consciousness - the sudden clarity of battlemind - some deluded, half-omniscient view that comes from the sharpened awareness. It's my fucking condo. It's not a fucking nature preserve.Somehow, the moment of distraction only narrowed the focus of her irritation, narrowed and magnified it, though that isn't immediately apparent. The Glass Walker's dark eyes shift to James, and she lifts her chin in the direction of the kitchen, speaking outloud in a low voice, clear and deceptively controlled. "Who the fuck's the girl?" Then:
Crash.
Her bare foot on the edge of the tableframe, painted toes curled over the edge, the contraction of smooth muscle before she sends it tumbling end over end in one hard kick.
"The table pissed him off?" A slow, incredulous blink as her gaze tracks back toward the frame, now listing on its side. "The fucking table?"
(dire)
"He tripped.... again."He steps back and SNEESZES. SNEEzES, SNEEZES and paws at his snout and sits on his haunches. Tongue panting softly looking up at Eva and then he starts to shift. Takinghis time cycling up though the forms as to not "POP" and bowl the kin over.
(james)
there's a slow, decisive, nod
(mmhmmm)
it seems the Ahroun is still pretty heavily hiiiiiigh from last night
watching her through the wafting gray smoke with those burnt umber eyes
the sixpack of beers are settled and nestled on the exquisitely leathered couch
(something. must. be. sacred. if the beer's not safe there it isn't safe anywhere)"Dire, too, but the table got the brunt of it."
the fuck was he on to think the table was talkin' smack to Decker??
muscular shoulders roll in a shrug
signalling he didn't get into it, whatever it was, that happened
was a Get thang, not a Gnawer thang
that seventh beer is gently (gent! ly!) pried from her fingers
he's twisting the top off and using it to wave towards Eva and her new friend"The girl is Luc's fuck, Eva."
not Luc's girl or bitch just.... fuck
finally he's handing the beer back to the Walker
she's carefully controlling herself not to explode
he's still so freakin' calm
(though he can feel that Rage clashing up against his, no matter how deep it's shoved away and smoothed and fuzzed by chemicals, it's the one thing you can never get rid of, never completely)(imogen)
There was time to smoke the cigarette now, on her porch. She doesn't really take her time with it, as might have been hinted toward as she'd lit up before she'd even reached home. She does not, however, war with Rune's speed with inhaling her cigarette, nor does she have to pass the cigarette on to anyone else.It might have been the faint sound of a crash that drew her attention back to the condominium, made her consider something, a thought, a vague one. A curse falls easily from her lips (freer, because, well, there wasn't anyone out here), "jesus fucking wept," the words lost beneath the exhalation of her breath as she unfolds herself from the chair she'd been sitting in, half curled against the cold.
Booted feet hit the balcony's floor, spurring into movement as she sweeps down to stab out the cigarette in the ashtray and start toward the stairs. Down the steps and starting to cross the pathway to Rune's apartment.
It's hard for her to decide at exactly what point she feels the rage of those within, the point where the near full moon makes itself that much more poignantly known. As she walks up the path? The steps? Or as she approaches the door, and pauses a moment, listening intently. For further crashes, for sounds of anything (... cautiousness does not become her ...). Certainly, it can be said she feels it as she raises her fist to knock on the door.
(eva)
She smirks as Dire steps back, ignoring his shift as it’s her turn to hipcheck the fridge door closed, searching for the drawer that holds a fork to dig into whatever the mystery meal in hand is. Beer is set on counter,.Carton opened.. oooooooh pork fried rice. Perfect. A bite. Two.
Sharp.look.at.James. Glare. “The name is Eva.” Rage crackles from Rune and her fucked up table, and something of the same (much.more.subdued) snaps from the kin before she’s turning and stalking toward the bathroom at last. Fucking fullmoon assholes.(decker)
Eva slams into the empty, steamroiling bathroom. Quite a bit quietly, Decker's door reopens. The Modi slugs his way up the hall, distant sounds of conflict not quite escaping his keen hearing."Table. Dire." Levering himself up on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, thick shoulders roll in a shrug. "'S between me 'n the Skald." Roll up, don't light up just yet. Joint goes behind his ear, tucked against his freshly shorn head. "Gitcha a new table when we're through."
(dire)
Getting back to Homid he rotates his shoulder. The left one, like always. Fridge is opened again and on the bottom shelf in the back he gishes out the strawberry Yohoo and start shaking it. He steps up beside Eva and looks over to Rune. Nods to Eva"She's cool. Kicks-a-lotta-ass."
He's still shaking the mummy strawberry milk drink. Eyes the table. Grunts.
(rune)
"Yeah?" How easily her chin rises, how smoothly her head turns, dark eyes narrowing to track the young woman's path through the kitchen and into the hall beyond. She watches and watches and watches until the young woman has disappeared into the bathroom. Only does do her eyes drop to the beer in her hand, the curving sweep of dark hair falling across her pale cheek with the movement. "Bet if I had a fucking table, I could get my own fucking zip code."Her voice is calm, but the brief smirk that touches her mouth is a sour expression, loaded with discontent. Rune takes a long pull at the mouth of the bottle that has somehow found its way into her hand, and as she starts to saunter toward the door, her gaze falls across James in what would otherwise be an expression of appreciation were it not for, say, the shattered table tumbled across the living room.
The Glass Walker pauses at the door long enough to compose her features into a mask of smirking calm, then swings the door open. She lifts her chin in greeting toward Imogen, "C'mon in, it's a laugh a minute." then turns on her heel and heads back into the condo, leaving the door open behind her, extension of the dubious invitation.
Decker's remark is greeted with a sour snort, as Rune finds her way back to the living room and flings herself down onto the couch, at last trading the joint back to James. It'll be up to him if he wants to pass it around the room.
(luc)
And The music is turned back UP to thunderous decibel. Drum beats rain from Luc's bedroom and finally the door is yanked open to reveal one SLEEPY half-dressed Skald. Let the good times, roll.Walking down the streets at night
I see her stumbling through the rain
A skinny figure in the dark
Her face a shade of greyHis chest is bared broad-boney-scarred even as he pulls on a flannel shirt, jeans hanging off his ass, even as big [..did he buy shoes at the CLOWN store?] and barefoot. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. -SLAM!- THe bathroom door is shut, and reopens a few minutes later....
Down the Hall and toward the kitchen. Homo-erectus in his native habitat forages out in search of food. Note the flannel plumage, and the sour breath, particular to early evening when this species first wakes...
"..fuckin beer."
(billy bedlam)
Once more he makes his way into the streets. dressed in Blue jeans and a T-shirt. Hiar tied in a Braid to his waist and his bangs vcovering the left side of his face
(james)
he can feel that glare
but he doesn't really do much to acknowledge it
(y'all do more'n fuck?)
calm as he.... seems... his tongue is still bladed
but Eva slinks and saunters away
and for all her piercings and ass kicking abilities and ropes for hair
she's decidedly not the woman he's paying attention tothat'd be the one flinging herself back down on the couch
but he doesn't do much more about that than settle back into the overstuffed leather himself
suuuuuuucking down another long drag before ashing it....
..... shit....
no table. no ashtray.
it's a dangerous dance to drain what's left of his own beer without exhaling
but he does it, and makes himself an ashtray
smoke exploding out of (burning) lungs past a grin aimed at Imogenyep. that joint's held out towards her with far less accuracy
(and james settled in to smoke or something as Wolf must go afk and pause)
(and, veritable hours later, totally having no clue what went on other than lots of weed, something about rotting food, and now fight club....)
(noah)
"You must get a hardon or something at constantly reminding me of my age, kiddo." Noah's head turns back around to scope out the terrain. He slows down as they get closer to fenrir party pad. His hackles almost raising up as he sets himself on his guard. "Been too long since I've been on this side of town."(dire)
"Thank you rhya."He smiles to Rune and then hears Decker. He grunts happily, it takes so little to appease some people and he's heading for the door, Out the front door. Two steps and the metis hops. Feet tuck up under him on long legs then extend halfway to land perpindicular on the ral sliding down. At the botom a forward flip into a crouch. Damn metis seemed to have one or two extra joints per limb sometime and almost as at home in the air as on the ground. He falls into stride to Deckers left. He rummages in his pocket and comes out with two cinnimon toothpicks. Offers one to the Modi
"Nice haircut. You look like a poodle."
Said in gentle jest.
(eva)
Puptents and sleeping, it’s all over her head, all she’s got is the pacing Luc in mind. She doesn’t side step him as he heads back down the hallway – in fact its last minute that she ducks into the door, knowing he’s following. Music muted, voices not carrying over the sound, more a low mumur of bitch this, and fuck that, and hand me my goddamn boots, wolf boy, gonna be on more even footing if we’re gonna spar tonight.. followed by some sort of laughter (really. You don’t wanna know.) and an emerging, fully dressed Eva. Back to the kitchen, her own joint in hand, lit and inhaled as she moves past the one in rotation for another beer, waiting for Luc to finish getting ready.(noah)
The bag slides from his left shoulder, arm drops down by his side, fingers still coiled around the nylon strap,tighten slightly. He slows down even more, almost stopping as he follows Billy's gaze over towards Dire. "You could say Decker and I have danced before.. And it wasn't good for the realestate."(decker)
Actually, if you ask the Eagles, all'a North Jersey's their stomping grounds. But obviously, Noah hasn't been close enough to an Eagle to ask for months and months. For good reason, too.Decker grunts something denigrating back at Dire - and that's when he kinda. hardens.
It's largely a change in attitude. In presence. He goes silent; his mind is impenetrable and dark. There's no change in pace. No faster, no slower. Deliberate and shit, even accepting the toothpick from Dire. Hm. Joint. Toothpick. Joint. (hiiiit.) Joint flicked out in front of them, a bright arc. Keep walking. Joint smashed out underfoot.
Keep walking. Eyes locked on Noah now.
Not getting along is one way to put it.
(james)
Fenrir party pad
owned by one Glass Walker, standing before the couch
also occupied by one Bone Gnawer..... stoned. as. fuck. on the couch
(could he even move if he wanted to?)
it seems staying within the rotation was automatic
because suddenly there's a moment of clarity and James rejoins the time zone
(rotting food..... the first rule of fight club.... puptents and maids and lupus sleepovers....concerts.... Miccy D's....)
good. damned. drugs.somewhere, within the immediate vicinity, there's a pack of Camel 100s
he pulled the joint out of it (hours ago) and now.... it's....
aha! there
Zippo snapCLACKS open, flare, inhale, snapKer-CLACK closed
smoke filling lungs that will never, ever blacken(billy)
He sighs....he liked everyone present and accounted for...and he could just sEE another brawl coming...add the fact that the moon of 3 of them had ~Just~ passed and the 4th wasn't much further away from his...it was quickly turning into an Oh shit situation....offin the distance another dog is barking ~Hey! my crotch makes a good nose Warmer!(luc)
Aww, shucks now.He ain't put on his Lipstick or nothin, shit. Music Left on [...as ALWAYS.] And metal chain is leashed about his neck, boots shoved on--shirt changed. [..can't get that SMELL out of the flannel] And He rummages to the freshly laundered clothes, until he finds something from the LATEST shopping trip. [...does he EVER stop growing] Seems like he's leveled out at 6'7 -- still freakish.. but it fits, he ain't exactly normal either.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Stomp.Woolen cap pulled outta his back pocket and over the freshly washed [...guess who convinced him to take a shower? --don't ask how, that bathroom will NEVER be the same.] mop of blonde shag. "Ruuuuuuuu -- UUUUNE!!" Bellowed as the door is yanked back open.
Nice set of lungs, there.
(imogen)
In lieu of the roach, she is offered a six pack, and the change is favourable, as her weight shifts and she leans forward, catching one of the cans by the bottom and tugging it free of the plastic rings, her other hand catching the plastic rim to hold it in place as she tugs. "Thanks," again, though this time said in the more American style then her oddly truncated Ta.A crack of tin as she pulls the tab, a hiss of trapped carbonation as it releases.
A faint smirk as James suddenly seems to join the land of the living for a little more than just taking the joint as either she or Rune offered it to him. A long drink from the can, a swallow of beer, before her head turns to glance toward Lucian as he exercizes his teenaged lungs and extends Rune's name from one syllable to two.
(noah)
Noah stops, doesn't bother to keep walking, his head lifts up, cold blue eyes, darting out from beneath the stained visor of the ballcap. Nostrils flare out, picking up the stench of the joint. He snorts out, cuffing warm breath in a slight twitch of distaste for the herb. Dulled the sense and muddled the brain, in his point of view. Tension coils beneath heavy expanse of muscles beneath his jacket; head rolls on neck, popping joints roll down his spine. He keeps himself in check for the most part. Perhaps, this would be a civil confrontation.. Yea right. Nothing was ever civil between Noah and Decker.(dire)
He's walking along in that effortless long legged stride of his. Smells it about a milisecond before decker sees and stiffens. Dire's Reply is to take about 3 steps to the left as they keep moving forward. Seperating them as targets? subconsciencly flanking? Opeing up new avenues of attack? Something any way. He's still walking with deck but there is more space between them now. Into his pockets hishands dip. Sap gloves put on. Clinch
Heh.(billy)
Sighing, billy lets his ears do his looking as Dire fades to the edge of his vision not quite out of it...but not fully in view. he stands beside Nah...he wouldn't get into the fight unless Dire did too...he didn't want that.(rune)
The Glass Walker disgorges another beer for the Gnawer, but hordes the remaining four for herself. Blood red nails limned by dried blood gleam against the container (the faint tap tap tap as she pulls it free).The beer tangles from her three fingers, slaps against her thigh as she saunters through the living room. Half-way to the stairs comes Luc's bellow. Rune's chin rises sharply, head turning to follow the boom of sound. One hand on her hip, the other cradling alcohol, the Glass Walker sends him a soured smirk.
"What?"
(decker)
More space between them. Fanning out. If there were more packmates this would be a loose wedge - hold the line, boys! for gaia and fenris! don't let 'em git through! But this time, it's just Decker and Dire.That's all they fuckin' need. Funny, how Fenrir can throw down with one another one night and then close-n-lock ranks the next. Funny and disturbing.
Iron grey eyes flick aside ever so briefly: Billy picked out. Bit of a nod up. "Billy." Good to know he's still in one piece. "This ain'tcher fight."
Subtext: and this ain'tcher turf.
And you don't know the whole damn story.Still coming on. Grey return to Noah. Lock on. Without breaking stride he shrugs out of his jacket. Leaves it abandoned on the ground. On his right shoulder the tattoo begins to burn, luminescent ghost-flame blue.
"Noah." Real damn quiet. "Guess you musta fergotten what I said."
(eva)
Beer tips back, swallow or 4 before it comes down again, and almost up again as she chokes a laugh at the sudden testing of teenage lungs.
Yeah, still waiting patiently. Course, only reason she is ready first is she woke up first and got a headstart. Even with the prick being all pissy and takin his time in the bathroom. Nails tap along the counter in slow tattoo. Crimson red on clean formica.(luc)
Steps that eat distance, the way an oversized mouth can inhale Deli-Meat. Still hungry the too-lean skald groans briefly, rubbing at his left eye. He's aleady down the hall and fishing around the living room for his keys... [Floor-nope. Couch-nope. Nudge-imogen-nope. Nudge-James-nope. FUCK.] He stands back, and exhales a controlled breath rolling from his nostrils.Turns to Rune, and that wiiiiide grin -- sheepish almost. "Can I borrow th'car? Concert's out late." Yeah, and her keys to pad are WITH her car keys so...
Two birds, one stone.
(billy)
He nods to Decker quietly. "Nope...ain't my fight...but Noah and i have spilled blood together...you 2 wanna get into it that;s fine but I can't stand by and let him get Ganked." Almost apologetic in his tone but it's where he stands...he can't stand an unfair fight between gaians.(james)
there's a bit of a sheepish grin aimed towards that smirk barely edging onto the firey Kin's features
(no matter how small, miniscule, or even outwardly non-existant, he can recognize her amusement)
then mother of Gaia that boy has lungs
whatever reaction to the sudden hollering that was creating itself in the Ahroun's frame is suddenly quite distractedooh. beer.
the expression that melts across his face is one of pure. glee.
(beer!)
even the nudge-nudge-move-thuh-fuck-over search for keys doesn't do much to distract him
(god. damned. cotton. mouth.)
slugging that beer back at a pace that probably isn't safe for most mere mortals
(but he? is Garou!)(dire)
He knows his place. Dire's the packs resident lefty so he takes that flank. IF __IF__ backed in and closed together where swings might inadvertantly hit packmates his swing would not overlap that of the garou to his right. only if totally back to back woud the overlapping fields ever come into play and lets face it folks. If something is bad enough to back the pack back to back and only DIre and one other left the shit's hit the fan and the Apocolapse is here.Hearing billys words those glaciers hearts ice orbs flicker to him. Soft shake of the head. This wasn't a shits and giggles sort of thing. Decker had it well in hand. __IF__ Decker fell It'd Be Dires turn. While they had no qualms on pouncing wyrm creatures 5 on one the Get held their honor. It wouldn't be a team up, Maybe just a Daisy train.
(noah)
"Yea, well. I haven't been in the city much, Decker. Thought I'd come in for a night out. Do some of my business. I ain't bothering any of your crew. So slap your jacket back on and keep truckin'." He replies in a casual tone. His gaze shifting over to Dire for a moment, never like the skald much, tolerated even. He remains on his guard, watching the two fenrir, letting the boys start the shit. He wasn't going to instigate anything.(rune)
"Fuck no, Luc." Her eyes are narrowed and her face is stilled, and her fingers, curved around the handle of the six-pack, are gradually contracting. "Touch my car, I'll geld you. Take a cab. Take Decker's goddamned truck, if you think you wanna ask him. Make a hobby horse outta Imogen's bridge and ride your way to the damn show, but keep your hands off my goddamned car."The Walker turns on her heel and heads up the stairs. One, two, taking in quick succession. She pauses on the third and comes back down, digging into her pocket with a sour expression. She pulls out two crisp fifties (newwwww money) that rasp as she clasps them between thumb and forefinger, and holds them out to the Skald. "Cab fare. Have fun."
...and, with that, she turns around and heads back up the stairs, beer thumping rhythmically against her thigh.
(imogen)
"Fuck no, Luc." Her eyes are narrowed and her face is stilled, and her fingers, curved around the handle of the six-pack, are gradually contracting. "Touch my car, I'll geld you. Take a cab. Take Decker's goddamned truck, if you think you wanna ask him. Make a hobby horse outta Imogen's bridge and ride your way to the damn show, but keep your hands off my goddamned car."The Walker turns on her heel and heads up the stairs. One, two, taking in quick succession. She pauses on the third and comes back down, digging into her pocket with a sour expression. She pulls out two crisp fifties (newwwww money) that rasp as she clasps them between thumb and forefinger, and holds them out to the Skald. "Cab fare. Have fun."
...and, with that, she turns around and heads back up the stairs, beer thumping rhythmically against her thigh.
(decker)
No break in eye contact now. These words can only be to Billy: "Dire knows not to git involved."And distance diminishes to fifteen feet. Ten. A hardening of the nerves. A steeling of the resolve. There's a hole on his side but that ain't gonna stop him now. And a slow shake of his head: left, right.
"Don't think so, Noah." Beat. Then, in the high tongue, rhythmically as though quoting - and he is:
Tread on my land again. And I will mark you for life.Crinos. Axe drops into hand. Eagle taken into blood.
RAGE.(luc)
Lungs....came in handy when they shipped his ass to NYC to sing the damn reknown songs. Even if he usually covered tunes from other songs with new garou-riffic [Luc's term, not mine.] lyrics; shit, he had better things to do than write tunes.
Who else but Luc would have the ball's to sings deeds, to the tune of Copa-Copacabana. [Thank GOD, he's a cliath.] His eyes shine as he pockets the cash, Rune. And his expression is that -damned- wiiiiiiiide-ass grin. "Bring'ya a t-shirt, Ma." Sheer Love, for the resident den mother -- but he's out of arm range BEFORE he says it. YeeeeeeeeHaaaa! Baby.
Totemphone: Don't leave home without it.
"Dire, Borrow the Jetta--? "(billy)
Falling in Beside Dire, he speaks in an almost conversational tone...reassured now that it will be a fair fight, "I see Decker's jaw is healed...what happened to his side?" He doesn't even bat an eye at the rending of the Veil yet again...it's almost common place in these parts lately.(dire)
As if on mental cue HELGA THE HORRENDOUS Is called forth. The long handeld warr hamer is twirled once and then the head gently touches the pavement.Both hands in the Sap gloves resting on the pommel.over the Totem phone just before the party starts
"Sure keys are on the floor in the closet. No used condoms in the back this time. I have a 4 year old."
add on.))
"That's where I grabbed him after he bit my right arm and shoulder and lifted him to slam. I'd still be hurt but our theurge was high and thought I looked better a pale arien looking chap than red and raw. In honesty i think it tutned him on and he didnt like the homoerotic fantasy."
(eva)
Beer finished, bottle joins the rest in the recycling bin and pierced brow lifts as he’s passed the cash and smirk slides into smile. It’s like fuckin Christmas around here. She wants cash from her own place and she’s gotta steal it… there’s a damn good reason she prefers shackin up here with the lanky skald.
Even if he practiced those damn songs to the tune of copa in the shower every morning for a fuckin week.
She heads to the closet (you know. Where the hangers are.) and grabs her leather, slips it on and checks the pockets, making sure everything is there. Her pack of smokes from the kitchen counter, lighter in jeans pocket, all the piercings are in place, and she’s good to go.
(james)
Rune heads upstaids
like the Skald expected to be able to TOUCH that car, he's still surprised Rune let him ride in it on the way down to Kentucky
the sheer fact of it all holds a great deal of amusement for the Gnawer
but then "Ma" leaks out
and it's. all. he. can. do. to keep from laughing
swallowing it in a cough of camel smoke
he checks the pack of 100sthree left, plus one joint
he's got another pack.... somewhere
there's a low whistle to get the Skald's attention
long arm stretched to offer the pack and J inside for the concert's cause
(he remembers what it was like to be that age.... )(luc)
Eyes flick to James as he palms the joint from him "...not commin?" How MANY times had he invited the damn raggedy man out -- it became an informal ritual of sorts. Respect for Ma an' Pa. But where Luc might call Rune "Ma", calling James "Pa" was just a little -too- weird: close to the truth."Yo Bitch.." Head nod to the door and he stops in the doorway looking at Imogen and James... "--yer not stayin inside ALL night?" Sacrilidge to the young to waste a night inside, the WORLD is outside.
Dire's Keys: check.
Money: Check.
Eva: Check.We're good t'go.
(imogen)
Her weight shifts further, raising hips slightly off the couch to reach into her back pocket, pulling out a slightly crumpled packet of cigarettes, well worn from the day, considering she smokes at least that much a day.A fag is pulled out as she balances the beer on her knee, before placing the package on one of the legs sticking out perpendicular to the floor of the poor, abused table.
Zippo next, fingers curving easily around the worn brass plating, and starting to light up as her head turns to look at Lucian, an eyebrow arching lightly as the flame lights the end of the cigarette a dull orange ember. Normally, nobody smokes in here. It seems around the full moon, no holds barred, as everyone gives up on going outside just to smoke. Cravings can be too immediate.
Considering that she's probably been out since six this morning (though she left here somewhere around five thirty), staying in might not sound like such a bad deal. Smoke drifts out on her words, easy, "Likely not."
(eva)
There’s a smirk and a slap of Lucian’s ass as she falls into step with him, glancing back at James with something more of a sneer. “You got it wrong. I’m just your fuck, right James?” Before she tucks her hand in the back pocket of Luc’s ill-fitted jeans and nudges him toward the door.
Keys. Money. Luc.
Look out world, here we come.
“We got time for some chow first?” At the Wendy’s where there’s more interesting things then food on the menu – least until the cops shut the operation down again… but as of last night, it’s still the place to score. One J, her unfinished one, a stop at Wendy’s for some… things… to augment the music.. and they’ll be crawling home in the wee hours, fatcatcontent.
(james)
a grin rakes lopsided at the Skald
dreads tangle further over bare shoulders as the Ahroun declines
it only happens most of the time, they've been out before, and at least the music is getting to the point the Gnawer would appreciate actually hearing it live, and not just at live volume through the condo's walls
at least the hard-core punk has respectable drumming compared to the machine-gun tempo of death metal"Noooot tonight bro, don't think crowds'll do me good." not with the moon still heavy in the sky, wouldn't matter what drugs the Garou was on "Next week, promise, I'll treat you both."
then there's that patented "Pa" don't get caught or in more trouble than you both can handle type of look
aimed at them... both... really, in it's brevity
he may give Eva shit, but she's not that bad
(just another. god. damned. Get. - it's enough to give a guy a complex)
and since she's shacked up with Luc for now, seems he's just adapted to keeping an eye on her, too
however much it may not be stated or liked
he's a Hood, dammit
and there's a wink aimed at the punk-rock-princess' sneer
sorta that... He's still got that fuckered grin, don't he? type of look
they didn't wake him up last night (nothing would have) but that's a rare incidentthen the... kids... leave
and the condo falls into a very strange silence, given the phase of the moon
it's not the heavy silence of impending doom
but a strikingly easy silence
just cause the Gnawer can sit in silence with the Kin and not think anything of it"Up for something harder?"
nodding towards the beer
(luc)
Gone.Luc pounds down the stairs jumping the last few steps with huge [..clown college.] feet. Sonic. BOOM. Arms stetching out as they finally are free of the sheetrock box, urrah- but not THAT urrah. Turns to Grant Eva a stare thats a cross between happy and hungry...
Free.
"Seen th' Jetta anywhere?"
(imogen)
Silence. We know her and her silence. She prefers silence. She breathes more easily in it. It's odd that she can find it with the Gnawer (odd that he considers her a friend; or maybe not so), and worse that she's seen the Hood fuckered, drunk and other various states of inebriation more times than she can count. Her attention flickers to him as he breaks the silence, exchanging the cigarette in her mouth for the beer balanced on her knee, taking a long deep drain, likely emptying the can.An eyebrow arches, and a smirk curls one corner of her mouth, head tilting back slightly to regard him. He can read the amused half challenge even before she speaks, "Every time we go f'r somethin' 'arder, you end up plastered."
(eva)
Free. Free as a fuckin bird - ain’t no ones bitch, and sure as fuck ain’t just a fuck. Course – not sure what that makes her right now, but we’re on the way to music. Drugs. alcohol. And sex. She? No longer cares.
She follows at a more sedate pace, adding just that little extra swang on that there back porch as he turns to look up at her with that stare that she remembers from that first night. The one that caught her attention. The one that says he’d be just as happy to eat her up right here and now on the front porch… there’s a slow wink as she reaches for him, and uses his shoulders to aid her jump down the last three steps. “Far end of the lot if I ‘member right.”(james)
at first, they were forced into each other's company in a motel room
she studied her files while he paced holes in the floor wondering about the state of this new pack he's suddenly become attached to
it wasn't the fact he was assigned watch duty, that didn't get him so full of energy he probably made her dizzy watching
it's just the situation they were in, and what he was still recovering from
then there have been the random rides across town
the strange conversations and confidences within the little world of the suburban
along came smokes pilfered and shared on the balcony, hydrated by beer
the sudden sleepovers with her couch when shit hit the fan again
and yes, she's seen him plastered, fuckered, high, and falling down inebriated more times than he probably remembers
so somewhere, in all that, the Hood developed a trust for the ex-Fianna now-Get kin
however.... professional... it may have been at first
to him, it became the consideration of friendship
long, long ago
returned or notthe black cloud of the Modi hanging over everything concerning her safety isn't the only reason he goes out of his way to watch out for her
but, amazingly, he's remained in the present (!)
and even though he's soaring thirty-thousand feet above the earth's crust
(as a kite baby, as a fuckin kite)
he sees that amused challenge growing
it's met with that sly grin raking laterally in the frame of heavy dreads"Yes I do." nodded oh so matter of factly "But how else am I gonna build up a tolerance?"
not to mention it keeps him outta crowds and other equally potentially messy situations on a night like this, cause soon enough, she'll drink him right on under the table and look! he doesn't even have to stumble home
up-sey-day-sey
that's a long damned process and stretch that prepares the Gnawer for preflight
floating his way towards the kitchen
cabinets open and close as he searches for any hard liquor that hasn't been mostly consumed already(eva)
Hands slide (and she likes that he’s never. quite. gentle.) and she’s pulled close with the bite of his kiss as her hands slide down his arms until feet are firmly on the ground again. It hasn’t been long – but they respond to each other as if they’ve fit this way for years.
It’s odd. A little frightening (but she’d never fuckin admit it.) but nice. (She wouldn’t say that out loud either. “Damn straight.” And lips curl into that slow smirk… “Got beer?” with a wink, before she’s off with long, easy, teenage swaggering strides toward the other end of the parking lot, knowing he’ll fall into step within two strides of his own, even if she’s got a 4-stride head start.
(luc)
"Figured we'd grab eats, yeah?"Strange accent, southerner, urban and sometimes almost foreign. He don't talk about his past much -- they don't do alot of TALKING in general, and it seems to work for both of them. Lucian, at the very least. Natural, thats exactly what it is, as he swats her ass jingling Dire's keys with free hand.
He takes smaller steps when he talks with her: instinctive consession -- pack tactics? - And another stretch as lones in his neck and shoulders pop...
Not the car.
"Lets hold off a minute an'breathe."
Before the 6'7 guy squeezes into ANOTHER cramped space.
(imogen)
It is certainly a strange relationship; ironically enough, she was the one who ... ahem. helped him to start smoking. However, most of her relationships with the Garou are odd, strange, and out of place. Perhaps she keeps them that way. Perhaps it keeps her in control . It may be she doesn't even notice, and even humans must suffer her eccentracies. (she's cuts up dead people for a living. That is enough to excuse all oddities)."Try... uhm..." a pause, as she gets up, taking the beer can with her, cigarette still burning between her fingers, index and middle finger carelessly gripping the filter.
James is on one end, and she moves to the other, fingers trailing across the counter (.sen.sa.tion.) before falling to a crouch and opening one. Closing it, and opening another, joining him in the same search. "In deference to workin' up y'r tolerance," tossed at him with a smirk.
(eva)
She is oddly without accent. Nothing other then the slur the piercings tend to give (we may have forgotten to mention the tongue ring. But you know? That’s just expected.) on occasion, worse when she’s wasted (is she ever completely sober?). “Yeah. Hit the Wendy’s, get some shrooms maybe.. or ecstacy, and whatever else they got on tap. Enhance the experience and shit.”
He says hold up and breathe (and how many times a night does she hear that huh?) and she nods, palming the fender of the jetta and sliding up to sit on the hood, letting him stretch. Boy just don’t like being folded up in tiny places (well, cept that one time in the coat closet at some bitches party…he liked that right well enough) that’s for sure.(as Wolf screams one doesnt slur with tongue piercings)
(eva)
((here. *Edits*She is oddly without accent. Nothing other then the occasional slur playing the piercings tend to give (we may have forgotten to mention the tongue ring. But you know? That’s just expected.)
(james)
she cuts up dead people
the lingering smell alone should make his animal side bristle each and every time she comes near
but he looks past it, as he's been able to look past a lot of things
she, the educated doctor, hangs out with a raggedy dreadlocked (and, for most of his life) homeless guy
amusement, if nothing else
seems she can see past a lot of things, toosomehow, in this foraging spree for alcohole
he's come up with nicoteine
(THERE is that other pack)
top smacked against his hand a few times to settle the tobacco inside
and his search is distracted by flipping a lucky (the smoking he picked up from Imogen, where he got that is a mystery) and then stealing her carelesly dangling smoke to jumpstart his ownand then. a moment. of clarity.
(1. 2. 3. Tequila!)
it's been above the fridge all along
he's stretching to drag it down from that glorious pedestal
(meeh mah leetle friend..... hooose)"Any shot glasses giving themselves up to your pillaging?"
(luc)
He nods to her.Watching the slide and motion of her muscles as she eases onto the hood of Dires car, under hooded gaze -- There' a REASON Rune doesn't want him to drive her shit. Its called situational apathy, or seems like it he leans against the car gulping air..
(eva)
He nods and leans, and she shifts to slide one long leg around him, feet hooking around thighs as she rests her cheek against his back. A lone moment of something akin to tenderness (That fuck comment really got to her. If she’d allow herself to admit it.) togetherness, or simply touch. Or maybe a whole possessive ‘mine’ thing goin on as she listens to the air flow into his lungs in rapidfire gulps. Course, minute she lets go she’s back to bitch status.
(imogen)
"Tha' would be..." she's drank over here often enough, as her eyes loft upward to scan the cupboards, before straightening for to her full height of ... five feet and a bit, a hand reaching up to open one of the cupboards, and finding shot glasses.There we go.
Two are grabbed, the glasses clinking between her fingers, as she turns to face him, reaching out to pluck the cigarette back from him, reinserting it into her mouth, speaking around the filter.
"Tequila. Shot glasses." All set. Her chin lifts slightly, "Though I would think that by now, y'were sick o' this shit."
(james)
there's a brow that lifts, in hazy contemplation when releasing her kiped smoke
(er..... sorry)
by all means he should be - and the slow nod leans towards admitting that
there's also the though that, well, he's safe around her
(he trusts her, for a thousand reasons, one would be that utter lack of interest)
so can take the chance"Touche..... however." said with a self-satisfied (high) chortle "I'm feeling daring."
gotta. do. something. to. kill. that. rising. Rage.
drowning it seems to be a good idea
and since they're sans one coffee table
he takes a placemat (yes, they have those, even if they're rarely used) and snaps it out to lay across the counter in pure high-class style, smoothing it out to become a superbly dapper backdrop for the two glasses and bottle of Cuervo Gold (amazing it's lasted so long unscatched) and soon the ashtray that joins
he would be polite and leave the kitchen-sided stool for her to sit on, so she wouldn't have to walk anywhere to sit
but then that puts his back towards the window and living room
and he may be high, but he's still Garou, he's still protector, and, well, it's something he's sure she understands
he makes up for it by cracking open the bottle and pouring double shots into the glasses while settling onto the stool
BDU's bunch up in their own little unique pattern as weight settles, dreads swing across the yet-to-rediscover-its-tan skin canvassing his back, making the ashen scars stand out even more, Eagle's glyph branded (Branson. Branded Son. Maybe he was meant for this) on his chest
but he's not paying attention to fashion or destiny
just those glittering glasses of gold
he lifts his own in toast - no Galliard, he's not about to say anything - but, it begins(lucian)
He should say something meaningful.Maybe even some logical part of him, might say so: but what to say? Live Hard, Die Fast. You can't overthink this shit -- and he doesn't; call it, survival. Silence reigns and he settles a hand or her theigh rubbing it idly, as if it were HIS limb instead of hers.
"One day ah'ma get mah'own place."
(eva)
Maybe he should, but he won’t, and she doesn’t expect it. All she needs is just two minutes to gather her thoughts, her calm, and let that bitchiness shine free once more. His hand falls to her thigh, and rubs it much as if it were his own. (and in some way, it is just as much his as hers right now) and theres that chuckle, the slightly smirking amused ya right prove it big boy chuckle as she slides her arms around him, fingers spreading across his chest as she lifts her head to growl across his ear.. “then I’ll be able ta fuck ya in the living room without a damn audience…”(luc)
Brows waggle and he leans back slightly that chuckle edging somplace laughter shouldn't go. [..shudder.] Crooked grin stretches across nordic features, "...kinda like the applause." Her turns slightly as eyes crane to make her out, stomach rumbling briefly--(eva)
There’s that slow smirk (and the arching of limber frame against his back as that laughter slides dark and sinful over her..) “You’re screams are the only applause I need, boy. And I get a LOT of applause.” Hand drops in slow slide over hips and thigh before tilting her head and winking, slapping his hip and nudging him off the car. Cuddling time over. “Feed me. I’m hungry.”(imogen)
Cigarette smoke curls from her mouth, an easy exhalation, lazy as she picks her way around him to take the other stool.She understands predators all too well.
An ashtray is grabbed and drags toward them, the cigarette slid between between her fingers, taken from her mouth and replaced on the ashtray to rest on the small indentation just for that purpose. A double shot is taken, held between longer boned fingers, slender and smooth as she raises it, considering the liquid, before tossing it back in a single. swallow.
It takes a lot for a kinfolk to outdrink a Garou, but Imogen has managed it on more than one occasion. The glass is put back down with a thump, and she looks at him for a moment, before speaking, tilting her chin at him.
Hear the hoarseness of alcohol, scratching through her voice, clearing as the words complete themselves. "You do this to dull y'r rage?"
(james)
it takes a lot for a kinfolk to outdrink a Garou
but Imogen has done it on every occasion with James
so he's not expecting this one to be any different
dreads tickle and slide over bare skin, raising gooseflesh as the shot slams back into his throat
(he is getting better at this)
chuckling a wry (hooo that's strong) frowning grin back at her"Not normally." sooooth that burn with smoke, boyo "But the beating things method won't work tonight like it did last night, and the weed only does so much before the high wears off and that gets old. S'not just the Rage, anyway."
that last part a lot softer than the rest
sorta.... slipped out before he could think about it
but high as he already is, he's not thinking all that quickly
elbows resting on the counter, one hand with the Camel, the other wiht the bottle, now
just... pouring another two doubleshots(luc)
"When aren't you?"The devil MUST have a grin like that, just enjoying himself a little too much. He pushes off from the Car and unlocks his side, leaning over to unluck hers before the seat adjustments begin -- actually not TOO mant to make--Dire and He being both some overgrown-fuckers.
(eva)
Good point. Maybe shoulda been a Gnawer. Nah, she likes to e.n.j.o.y her meal, and that looks she gives Lucian? Says he’s on menu for desert. Yessireebob. He unlocks her door, and she opens it and slides in. He once opened the door for her, and she calmly stabbed a well place heel in his instep – she ain’t no women’s lib freaks, but she sure as hell can manage to open a door for herself. Now he gets in, leans over, like a good boy. She folds her long legs into the passenger seat, and there’s a bit more adjustment for her, as she’s got considerably longer legs then the 4 year old that normally occupies this seat. But finally, comfortable, and she gestures with a smirk. “To Wendy’s, and be quick about it.”(imogen)
Her eyebrow arches faintly, as she regards him, and maybe she says this for her own safety, though, truthfully, she doesn't sound concerned, so much as... considering. "This shite? Can make it worse." She is (ex-)Fianna, after all, and... well. She can drink Garou under the table."And not just the rage." She pauses to take a drag of her cigarette, lifting it to her mouth, inhaling on it quick and fast, replacing the cigarette on the ashtray before exhaling the smoke and lifting the glass again, and hits back another glass.
(james)
there's that wry grin again
umber eyes pull up from watching the glittering gold to meet the dark blue of hers
see, Decker's stormcloud grey and her deep atmospheric blue have something in common
but James' earthen browns are the farthest thing from that deep, fathomless blue
because it's not the ocean she holds in her eyes, nothing close to land, it's the endless sky above surrounded by the sun's dawning, blazing flames of red, auburn, copper, and brassy gold
yet they still sit here, matching shot for shot"I know" Toast. Slam. Swallow. (Grimace) "But with my tolerance I'm passed out drunk before I can either begin thinking too much or go get into trouble by picking a fight I shouldn't."
four shots of tequila mixed with weed and a mostly empty stomach
won't take him long at all
already the words begin to slur together a little more than what's inspired by the language of marajuana
but even as they stumble, they cause him to pause to catch his balance
and.... he's quiet, nothing save the sound of Cuervo rolling against smooth glass"Coupla weeks ago I had to go back up north for a funeral, respected kin passing, and all that. Heard about it through the grapevine and went to pay my due yet keep my distance." seems some details belong there "Didn't work out that way. Got challenged. Faced up to it. Been thinking about it since."
strange, he hadn't even told Rune where he'd been, yet
the inebriating concoction seems to be a truth syrum for him
the distant look turns into that familiar, easy (if strange) grin
toasting the next round"And that doesn't help the Rage."
sllllluuuuurrrrp it down, Jamey-boy
(luc)
He shakes her head and starts the car, Revving the engine briefly before they zooooooooooom down the street. Shit he drives like a seventeen year old, go fig. And a few run red-lights [..its late and there ain't no cops on North Jersey.] later.. they're there pulling into the parking lot.....loud ASS music pouring through the windows.
(eva)
Is there any OTHER way to drive? She seems perfectly content with the red lights (please, she’s been arrested before. Got off, too. A ticket’s no big deal.) run, and the squeel of tires into the parking lot, as well as the loud as fuckin music through the windows. She arches a brow. “goin in, or drive thru…” have to hit the drive thru anyway to make the score, but if they got time they can sit and eat… what time does this concert start anyway?(luc)
"We're kinda missin it."Smirk, And he pulls into the drive through...
(eva)
There’s laughter as she slides her hand along his thigh, nails scraping denim.. “Why… am I not surprised. We can always hit the after party.. that’s usually the best part anyway….”
The intercom crackles, and they order. A lot. And even slip in the code that orders a couple of things not on the menu – and when they get comfirmation instead of “huh??” it’s a done deal and they’re sliding on through to the window to await they’re bags… “ain’t there supposed to be a party tonight out at the old drive in?”(eva)
Errr?"Ah'heard -somethin- was goin on but I didn't call Kaiser this morning to check."
Gotta love this bitch.
"..you know how to get there?"
Bags recieved and rifled through, money exhanged--and they drive off. Service with a smil[ey face.]
(imogen)
"Well." Toss back, swallow deep, return the glass to the the counter, and reach out for her cigarette once more, "Just don' pass out 'ere. I can't carry you, an' I won't feel right leavin' y'passed out on th'floor." She says, speech slowed somewhat. Her stomach hadn't been empty, and she had not smoked as much weed as he, her speech is clearer, her attention sharper. But still, the edges round out, and the consonants soften. If you ever really got her plastered, you might hear the way she really speaks.And never understand a word she says.
Her hand pushes through her hair, pressing it back as she listens to him tell his tale, her head tilting slightly, as she regards him, thoughtful. A beat later, "Y've left too much out o' th'story, James, I can't see what went wrong. Challenges are.. normal. And..."
A slow shrug. "Kinfolk die." Fatalistic, perhaps. Her tone is not so much condescending as lost as to what had happened. Without the meat, the story he tells is without substance.
"But..." As she takes the bottle this time, pouring him another drink and one more for herself. "... I doubtcha nee' e'en more things helpin' yer rage."
Her head turns, glancing over her shoulder to the window, the lightening of the sky, and she stands, a hand bracing herself against the counter, "The sun's coming up." Oblique commentary. She needs to go, either to work (that would be certainly... interesting) or to call in sick. "Can ya ge' upstairs alrigh'?"
(eva)
There’s a slight smirk and arched brow. “Course I fuckin know how to get there. ‘ya think I am, some tittering schoolgirl?” Amused, and already munching on fries, as she spouts off the directions, hands him a burger, griiiiiiiins to see the amounts of party favors added in the bag. Gonna be a good night after all. “god I love wendy’s.” groaned in appreciation as she takes a bite of the burger, then peels it apart, and adds a layer of shrooms, closes it again and munches happily. It’s party time.(james)
her voice softens under the blanket of tequila
the accent isn't as covered as it usually is
the musician that he is, he likes hearing it, the foreign lilt and beat, it's really rather pretty
even if there'd be a point he wouldn't be able to understand a damned thing she says
he's sure, when he's all but conscious, he's said things to her that remain a mystery to this night
he doesn't need more things to fuel his Rage, but with that half-assed attempt at explanation
she deserves a better try at navigating his thoughts towards speech"Yeh, we'll all die, Garou. And Kin." those mellow tones are soft, thoughtful, Kin dying are all too familiar to him "She was Sledge's mom, lead a good life, died honorably, great asset to the Nation and all that - very respectable woman, deserved to have the eulogies she got. Sledge was my old packmate. Her step-brother's the one that noticed me there, and threw down the challenge. Never forgave me for what happened three years ago. Normal..... just not something I wanted to do."
such a bittersweet smile
still the story isn't complete
not everything he thinks makes it to verbal realization, too much toxicity to swim through
it's subconscious, the ripple of chilling memory that crawls down his back, beneath those darkly grey scars
(what could have happened, to leave such marks, to beat him down to such a point only his Rage saved him)
all pushed away by that familiar, trademark, easy smile
(if anything, Gnawer's can adapt)
his chin's reversing the normal pack communicado and dropping in a nod
(stairs. railing. drag self up to den of watery wonders. grunt.)
dark eyes lifting towards the blushing curtains holding back the rising sun from entering the living room just a minute longer
by then he's already moving past herthe hand that reaches out and lands on her shoulder may be to steady himself in chasing after that balance that's dancing just out of his grasp, or may be for something else entirel
Posted by james at April 17, 2003 12:00 AM
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