April 27, 2003.04.27.03. - blackwind [blister-rune] *bw[newark]
(a black wind)
A black wind has been blowing through Newark as of late. A strong, biting wind, always coming from the east. it defies logic, really. No weatherman has noticed anything to cause it on radar. Its much to cold for this time of year. Hell, it even blows when other winds blow from diffrent directions. But it is there, all the same. Tonight the wind blows strong, sending trash and random leaves barreling through the night over the unkept streets of this slum they call a city.(james)
deep umber eyes lift as that wind blows through.... again
it just feels.... wrong
no weatherman's been reporting it, but it's still sending that itchy feeling down his spine
specially with what happened with Aurora the other day
though, as paranoid as the pack's been
just about anything sends that itchy feeling racing up and down his spinebut it's not enough to get him to move
nestled up against a brick wall at the mouth of an alley
just him, his backpack with the rebar stickin' out the top - and one to-go box from Julio's
best Mexican food that can come out of a little hole in the wall
the Gnawer is inhaling the Three Amigos Enchiladas that were practically spilling out of the box
just a few bites left
and he's back on his way(black wind)
Something is watch him. He may not feel it. There is no 'deep peicing feeling to the center of his soul' or some other poetic crap. No, its much easier for his kind of hunt then that. High atop a four story building, abandoned for some time now except for the gangs and homeless, the demonic figer stands. Just a silloute in the moonlight, in a place many people simply don't think to look. He has spoted James now, a suitable test subject for this trail run. He lifts one of those massive, clawed hands, and sends it down again... and the things in the alley across the street start to move((five 'fomori' - four of them are almost identical. Not the same person, but the same 'model' - one is a 'heavy hitter' - and one is a four head spider thing on the heavy hitter's back))
(blister)
Sometimes, you have to just have to drive – hell bent for leather with the windows down, the radio up loud, and Mexican food on the horizon. The ride from the boardwalk gives the Ahroun plenty of time to think, and plenty of time to brood, and just. Time. Away from the shinnanagins of Burger, the excited perfection of the girls, the ever present press of longing and need to impress and prove oneself with the Alpha.
The beat up old pickup truck pulls into some semblance of a parking spot outside of Julio’s where the barking chain suggests is the best damn Mexican food that can come from a little hole in the wall, and out steps the Gnawer. Pat of the hood (good boy, rest now) as the Truck stutters to a stop, and thuggish gait heads toward the restaurant. Luna has all but lost her face, but the rage still crackles around the Ahroun, viable, almost visible, as ball cap is pulled low over eyes, neck rolls on shoulders,
And the wind blows. A black wicked wind that sends the hairs on the back of neck into taught attention, and footsteps stop. Listening. Watching. Waiting.(james)
Don't look back.... something may be gaining on you.
he doesn't notice it, that demonic figure keeping watch on the street below
right now, it's tortilla and salsa and cheeeeeeeeeze that has his attention
the moon above has slivered itself down to practically nothing
and the Gnawer, while a little paranoid, is surprisingly relaxed
(it's that filling your belly with cheezy warmth, thang)there's things that rustle in the alley across the quiet midnight street
maybe rats, maybe that wind, maybe another derelict burying himself in the boxes to find some semblance of warmth
it's enough to impress itself on his attention?
but not enough to pull it away from the food
not yetnothin' better than going on walkabout through the territory on a nice spring day and ending it with good fooooooood
(blister)
There’s a moment, where nothing seems right, but nothing can be pinpointed as wrong, and finger scritch under the edge of the ballcap, behind ear, before resituating it more firmly on head, before steps start again for the restaurant and disappears inside. It’s not too long, before the Gnawer returns to the street, leaning against the truck, opposite where James leans against brick wall, that cheesy goodness dug into in pure Gnawer style. Inhalation.(james)
the box is all but licked clean
(it wouldn't be the first time)
all the little bits of cheeeeeeeze dug out of the corners
he's stretching up and moving out of the alley's mouth towards the trashbin infront of the Julio's.... that's about when he spots Blister
.... that's about when he feels that crackling Rage
and glance slides over, rather blatantly
hello there..... that's two in two days....(blister)
There’s little notice taken to surroundings (but there’s always some awareness) as the contents of that container is in.haled. Complete with a little orgasmic moan. There ain’t nuthin that beats good Mexican. Note made to think the one on the Chain who sent the message.
And don’t think the other’s were forgotten. This is but one container, the rest sit in a bag atop the hood of the truck behind the lean ahroun. Blatant gaze pulls vivid blue from the cheeeeeeeezey delight and pierced brow arches, slightly. Bites don’t stop, but gaze does not waver either.
(james)
eats like a Gnawer
looks like a Gnawer
damn well acts like one, too
we may just have ourselves a winnerhe moves and gathers the pack and patchwork trench turned pillow
one slung over shoulder bared by wifebeater and marked by ashen scars
one looped through the resultant sway in strap
then that gaze swings back on the strange Garou
nod up(blister)
Well, you know what they say. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, quacks like a duck – it sure ain’t no eagle. Last bites are chased, fingers licked, hell – the container is licked too (what, you’re surprised?) before fingers are given the once over again and pitch of hips pulls lean form from the truck, and container is dropped in the trashbin.
Dip of chin returns that nod up. Seen that before – ah, yes. The raging dick who sat in the middle of the clutch. Related possible, maybe not, either way, the greeting is somewhat returned before voice – as non-descript, non-gender specific as the shapeless clothing hiding the form underneath- slips past thick lips. “evening.” Fingers pat down pockets in the age old search, coming up with pack and lighter, smoke lit, before pack is offered James’ way.
(james)
it speaks!
yes. it"Evenin'" too much time around the Modi, seems he's been forgetting his g's more and more often lately, yet unlike the Modi, the greeting slides on an easy smile rather than grunting scowl "What'd you end up with from Julio's?"
the backpack settles just infront and between the ankles of faded tankboots
both hands freed to take the offered smokes and lighter with an even wider smile
(definite Gnawer)
strong and calloused hands sheild the flame from that strange wind that keeps blowing through
long inhale before the offering is handed back with a nod of thanks(blister)
Something of a smirk slides over thick lips as the lighter and pack disappear once they’re handed back, and two steps regains leaning post of front fender of beat up truck. Free hand tucks into pocket, the other occupied with moving cigarette to lips, only to fall down and rest against denim covered thigh. A slight softening of smirk to almost grin before it settles into normal expression again. “Enchiladas first. Mexican pizza still in the bag. You?”(james)
"Three Amigos."s/he moves to lean against the fender of the truck
he remains in that stand that, well, really seems comfortable
carefully, yet casually watching hi..he....it"Julio's is the best place in this part of the territory, even the places that actually look inviting can't hold a candle."
subtle James, real subtle
(blister)
Subtle. Though rarely having a use for subtlties, it’s definitely not lost on the AHroun, noted with a slight smirk, and nod. Ankles cross, comfortable enough (well, as comfortable as the metis ever is in the face of new acquaintences) where leaning against a truck that looks like it should be held together by prayer and duct tape (it is.) alone. “S’what the chain said.” Yes. Subtle as well. Pierced brow arches though, and question posed. “Eagles?” While the Cuckoo’s are comfortable with their 15 blocks, rumor has it the Eagles claim all of North Jersey.(james)
and those rumors would be true
he's nodding again - up and down this time - though the smile spreads
nice and easy, just as much at ease around new faces as old, it seems"Wouldn't think one pack could run half the state, but we do."
okay, the territory is big, admittedly
the Gnawer still occasionally wonders why and how they've claimed so much
yet, taking into consideration he's packed up with a bunch of Get
maybe it's not so much of a mystery
this time his arm's extending with an offer to shake"Name's James."
(blister)
A snort of amusement, but long arm extends and hand is clasped easily, without the ‘crush yur hand’ type of competition some are famous for. Got over that a long time ago, a shake is no place to prove oneself. “The Nest’s 15 blocks keeps us a damn sight busier then one would think. Blister, Cliath full-moon BeeGee from the Boardwalk Cuckoo’s Clutch.” Hand retrieved, and grasps cigarette from between lips as if it were a joint, last drag taken, before it’s flicked to the walk, and ground under construction boot, before ankles cross again. “Met one of yours down our way a couple weeks ago.”
(james)
there's those handshakes that become acts of war
this isn't one of them - why should it be?
though there's a soft chuckle, too"Hear someone had set up shop down on the 'Walk, must be y'all. Met some of your handywork up our way a couple weeks ago." though the smoke is actually pulled from his mouth for this part, filter dented by strong teeth "James Branson... Jukebox to Family, Drums-on-Skulls to the Nation, Eagle's Cliath full moon BeeGee." then a brow lifts "Scorching Walker, lanky Skald, brooding Modi, or fugly Rotagar?"
(blister)
“That’d be us.” Brows lift slightly… some of their hand…. Oooooooh.. and that smirk grows into smug satisfied grin. “the Snotty Strider, by any chance?” Amused, highly. Relaxed, comfortable, the completed introduction noted and tucked away for future reference. Snort of amusement slides into brief chuckle. “Was the brooding Modi, actually. Took residence for the evening smack dab in the middle of our ‘walk and waited until we showed up. Lovely chap.” Smirk. “Sounds as if the Eagles are about as eclectic as we are…”(james)
that... actually gets the Ahroun to laugh"Decker isn't our PR man, that's for sure." no, that would be himself, the guy with the easy smile, personality, and actual capability for a complete sentence - that is also grammatically correct "And yeh, Lucca, he brought me BurgerWrapper's duct tape to get rid of. What'd he do to piss the Theurge off?"
lotta info you can glean out of binding glyphs
(rune)
Walking the territory. Rune's been doing more and more of that since finding Dire in the closet... again. Cabin fever, spring fever, claus.tro.phobia, call it what you will: it has infected her, and the trouble in their territory. Of course, there's always trouble in their territory, the wyrm lives among them, too omnipresent to challenge everywhere, infects the very poisoned air they breathe except on a day like today: a spring day, with the sun shining warm in the sky, the air cleared by days of rain.Dark shades cover her eyes against the fierce glare of that bright sun, and her leather jacket has been dispensed with. Leather pants, molded to her figure, and a sleeveless white shell, nothing more. The Ahroun parks herself against the rough brick beside James, and pulls out a cigarette of her own (when in Rome), favoring the pair of them with a curving red smirk. "Afternoon."
(blister)
There’s a nod, not quite a grin, but something between that and the normal smirk passes over plain mismatched features. “From the descriptions – I’d place my money on you doing pack PR. Got one of those ourselves, pretty little gilliard. She tends to stand out like a beautiful thumb amongst us riffraff.”
Gaze slides to the approach and slinging park of sleek walker next to James and after a brief nod, gaze dropsinnstantly. Lingering somewhere on the cement between them as another cigarette is lit, and placed between thick lips. Something of that amusement remains in the smirk, as question is answered. “Refused to introduce himself when all was asked for was a name to call him by before we got into quieter area. He attacked, we taught him some manners. Left him duct taped to the railin outside the Strider territory.”
(james)
pack
you can feel it
just as he was out on the beautiful day to roam the territory
it doesn't surprise him to see the scor. ching. Walker approach
by the time she's a shoulder planted against the rough bricks
he's fished out the bronze zippo and it's offered to light the smoke he knows she's gonna....wehell there it is"Well, the Skalds do a good job of PR, so must be something about the dreads." absently waved at the tangled mop of brown vines clustered around his shouldesr, still with that easy grin - he saw those eyes slam to the ground - then there's a nod towards the sleek Walker "s'Rune, my Beta." and back towards the Ahroun "s'Blister.... up visiting from Cuckoo's Clutch down in AC."
his job out of the way
the (taller) Gnawer falls into a smoke-filled silence
that fond smile has to be out of ranking respect, of course
seems he knows his place no matter whom does what PR(rune)
"Please to meet ya, Blister." The words spill from the Walker's red mouth, accompanied by a thin, fine stream of gray smoke that rises and coils toward the brilliant sky. Her elbow (bare, scrubbed, exfoliated, ridiculously smooth for such an exposed joint) grazes James' side in subtle thanks for the light. "Y'all been around long?"Her head half turns, one brow rising above the dark frame of the shades in query to James, before returning to Blister. "Y'know, I like my shoes, too," - a wiggle of her toes, painted red, bared by the high-heeled strappy sandals she favors in warm weather - "but the rest of me's up here."
(blister)
There’s a nod, slight, to the introduction, and a long drag taken. “an’you.” Added after the first words to spill from that red mouth. A pause before answer is given. Voice – still non-descript, non-specific, yet softer somehow. In the face of rank, in the face of perfection, in the face of… well, the Beta, who can only be the Scorching Walker. “Couple months now. Came up from Phoenix during that fuckin snowstorm.”
There’s a pause, and then a self-depreciating snort at the final comment, muttering.. “Yannow, ya wouldn’t a painted em if ya didn’t want em noticed…” Before eyes close, a moment, and hand clenches in pocket and those eyes are brought up with effort. Old habits die hard – and this… well. Talking to James is one thing, he’s Family. Even then gaze wasn’t truly met. And now? Rune’s dark eyes meet vivid blue (so out of place, almost pretty in comparison) briefly, before gaze shifts to the side a bit, fighting the desire to slam them down again.
(james)
since everyone's looking down
he does too
leeaaaaaaning over a bit to look at the shoes in question"You have to admit.... they are pretty toes and that's a nice red, Rune."
dark eyes climb back (up long lines of leather, up and over the curves beneath that shell) up to meet the mahogany gaze of the Walker with a wink, though he sidles a bit closer to Blister for the swipe that may come, but mostly the chide was just to help the other Ahroun out
sometimes you can just smell when someone's highly uncomfortable(rune)
The Walker's smirk curls wider, amused, deeping, blood-red against the creamy color of her skin, and she wiggles her toes in their small prison of leather straps. With the sun shining down, so bright and fierce, she must use some serious sunscreen. Either that or - like a goddamned leech - she usually only comes out at night."What the hell brought you up from Phoenix in the middle of that fucking storm?" Chin rising up (a nod, a gesture of respect as Blister meets her gaze, then allows her eyes to slide to the side), brows rising again above the stark dark line of her dark glasses, she continues, "...wouldn't've torn me outta a fucking paradise like that for a fucking snowstorm."
Some arch look, then, sidelong, accompanied by the usual smoking smirk. Amused, "All the credit goes to my pedicurist and daddy's credit card. Just had them done." Another wiggle of her toes.
(blister)
James’ comment and slide is met with something that almost resembles a chuckle before it disappears again, and fingers lift to scratch under chin, before another drag is taken, and hand falls to thigh once more, plum of gray exhaled with a snort. “Sure wasn’t my fuckin idea. Burgerwrapper’s spirits demanded we come right away. Said something about a bright light that needed investigated– which later translated to ‘having fun in the fuckin white blanket of snow, come join’” Lean (strong) shoulders shrug, and another smirk falls over thick lips. “They ain’t told us to move on yet, so we set up shop. Figure the resons’ll be come clear soon enough.”(james)
those toes
those wiggling, perfect, painted toes
the things he would do to those toes
and the ankles connected to them
and oh. those. thighs..... pay attention, James.
he covers the sudden tunnelvision with actually folding his body
the zigzag of ankles, knees, and hips
crouching over the Alice pack and unbuckling the top flap
pulling free one paper bag from Julio's containing a singularly wrapped chicken fajita
that's extended on the elevator of a long arm towards the Walker
nope, no fond smile still there, really"Gotta run down the street, meetcha at Hooligan's later?"
nope, no hopeful smile there, really
the grin - friendly, not hopeful - turns itself on Blister"Nice meeting you, tell BurgerWrapper nice job on the wrapping."
then the pack's slung back over his shoulder, and the Gnawer strolls off down the way
(rune)
"Yeah," the Glass Walker echoes, her voice thick with sardonic amusement. "...or not. Might be, your theurge was just itching to get into a snowball fight. They get strange ideas, those Theurges." Rune takes another deliberate drag from her cigarette and flicks the ash aside - toward the gutter, away from both Gnawers - then lifts her hand to her head, twisting her finger in a slow circle, the universal symbol for crazy. "Our always does. Fucking nut, Livingston. Has some sort of awakened Blunt he carries around with him all the time. Makes pickle, egg and peanut butter sandwiches. That sort of thing."Right hand occupied by her bright pink cigarette, the Glass Walker slips her left hand into the back pocket of her sleek leather pants and pulls out a card, which she offers Blister with a quick twisting flip of her fingers. "Tell ya what, let's make a deal." Red nails tap the white card lightly as she holds it out for the Bone Gnawer. "Give your pack free passage through our territory, if y'all return the favor. Mutual aid and comfort and all that. Probably should get your Alpha together with ours, sometime, but my word's good for now."
As Blister takes the card, Rune takes the bag James' offers her, slender fingers curving around the crumpled paper. The dark glasses slide a quarter inch down her nose. Above them, dark eyes, a quick little wink. Below them, the everpresent smirk, cool and calm and utterly sure. "Yeah. Hooligan's later. See you there."
(blister)
Posted by james at April 27, 2003 12:00 AM
If that tunnelvision was noted, it was ignored. No skin off the mutant’s nose, after all, and it was somewhat amusing to watch the cover. “an you, James. I will. He’ll burst at the seams with pride.” Which falls right into the Walker’s comments and actual laughter from the Ahroun, brief, but there. “Burger’s our card carrying nutjob, for sure. Gotta luv’em though. He hits on the counter girl from White Castle to feed his junkfood addictions though. No blunt – but duct tape of bonding that’ll hold nigh unto forever.”
A pat of duct taped fender of beat up truck in proof. Before there’s a slight nod, and strong fingers reach to take the card. Vivid gaze has reason to drop now, reading the card, before it’s tucked away into pocket. “Met up with yur Modi down AC way a while back. Offered the same. My words good as well. I ain’t gotta card, but territory’s clearly marked and should ya just hollar, we’ll find ya. From here, the barkin chain can reach us fastest.” Said with a nod toward James.. “until we get the phone set up an’shit. “Cable TV and skinomax was much more important to Burger..” amused.
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