June 05, 2003.06.05.03. - watch th-....door [rune-tucker] *e[noje]
(rune)
Evening finds Rune on the front balcony. Satiny boxers and a t-shirt, a citronella candle lit on the plastic table, against possibility that a mosquito might dare bite her. Never mind that it's not mosquito season yet, that the cool spring with the cold nights have kept them from rising from whatever horrid breeding grounds they might find.Beer bottle in one hand, resting against the black-clad curve of her hip, cigarette in another, bare feet propped on the railing before her: chilling. That's all, nothing else.
The stars are bare pinpricks of silver in the haze of pollution and clouds and light pollution that clouds the sky, but that's where her dark gaze is direction: the sky.
(tucker)
"Hey, sorry about snapping at you in the elevator last night." The voice comes from inside, closer toward the end of the sentence. Another chair pulled up the the opposite side of the table. A dolloar fifty coming to rest between to the two Ahrouns."S'Fer the beer, it's a good night for one." Ahhh alcohol, it'll make you forget, it'll make you remember. Of course it also drops one's inhibitions. A dangerous thing when rage is involved. The young fang sighs and looks out into the sky blankly, in a calmer voice than normally his style.
"The fuck you looking at?"
(james)
they'll find breeding grounds, allright
with as healthily watered as the complex's grounds will be
no doubts that standing water will soon be plentifully available once the weather is right
unless, of course, proper drainage was included in the landscaping
but given the appropriateness of the stucco and tile California theme
..... he's just not surebut it's the candlelight that drew him
the warm glow that's encompassing the balcony
casting an orange hue to the stucco that should be white
but with the amount they smoke out here, it's got the faintest yellow tinge
now it's warmed to a citronella tinged warmth flickering and crawling along the walls
especially now as he's turned off the overhead light on his way outfour beers clasped in his hands
(three in the left, one in the right)
the Gnawer is stretching over the Walker to set three on the table
just so they don't have to go inside for a second round
the fourth accompanies him to the remaining vacant chair
a nod up to the Fang
but James doesn't really say much as weight sinks into the seat(rune)
She takes another drag from her cigarette, exhaling the poisoned smoke into the dark sky beyond. The night is quiet, out here. Or at least, the night is as quiet as it ever gets in the city. In the near distance, the constant hum of traffic creates a slow, dull wall of sound she tunes out as easily as a fish tunes out the crash of waves to the shore. It's only important when it gets too close.Dark eyes, dark-lashe, set in the sharp, clear lines of a porceline complexion. These are the eyes she turns on the Silver Fang, casting him a lashed, lazy glance that lingers on his face and then falls to the money on the table between them.
Her mouth, lush crimson, crawls a fraction of an inch wider. The smirk is a lazy thing, dismissive. "The fuck do I look like?" Tipping the beer in a mocking little toast, the neck of the bottle indicating the dollar fifty. "...a fucking accountant?"
She makes a sound, somewhere in the back of her throat, and takes another drag on her cigarette as her eyes flicker over her lover, then back up to the sky. Her shoulders roll up and down, smooth-motioned, in a little shrug. "...just watching the sky."
(tucker)
"Don't say I never offered, and with the amount of shit I catch around here I just figured it was.. ya know like, protocol." Sliding muscular arm out to snatch the buck and a half he shoves it in his pocket.Turning his gaze back to the gnawer, he grunts in appreectiation for the beer giving a gratefull nod in his direction taking another long drag from the beer before grabbing his quarter-pack of marlboro reds and offering the dreadlocked ahroun one and taking one himself.
(james)
he'd been in the middle of searching the many pockets of his BDUs for his own pack
that's when the red and white flag enters the corner of deep umber focus
well... fancy that
the yet unopened bottle switches hands so he can make the easiest reach
the salutory nod up functions as a thank you nod up, as well
those that don't know the pack's mode of communication must think they all have a twitch"Thanks."
he did, however, find his zippo
and the brassy, dull thing snapCLACKfwsh's to life
the orange, speckled filter clenched between even white teeth
and it's only on exhale that he adds his two cents"Everyone catches shit 'round here." half the insults terms of endearment, by the way he's half grinning around the 'bro "You just get it worse."
(rune)
For the moment, her only response is the sharp flare of an errant snort, the rush of air from her widened nostrils, some evidence of vague frustration with such things: debts, perceived or owed. The people who perceive or owe them."You get shit because you act like a little lord of the manor who just discovered the dialogue from Debbie Does Dallas." She casts the Fang a sidelong, assessing glance, then tips her bottle back again. The muscle of her long, bare throat contract minutely as she swallows the amber liquid. Then her hand falls, and the beer comes to rest, again, on the curve of her hip. The chair is tipped precipitously back, scrapping against the fronting brick.
When James speaks, she shoots him a mild little smirk. Amusement, vague, leaks through the harder edges of that brief glance, before her eyes slide away again to the sky. "What he said," murmured, really, in a voice still rough from cigarettes or... something else. "take the chip off your shoulder and bury it. No one here wants to deal with it. It's an anchor around your fucking neck, kid."
(tuck)
A laugh. yes an honest to gaia fucking laugh eminated from the young full-moon. "You think i'll drown out here? you know sweetness i'm not your average fang if you haven't figured that out. And i don't have a damn chip on my shoulder, i'm just getting a feeling for new surroundings." He hits the cigarette and looks down to the pavement below the three ahrouns."Where the hell's Decker been? Looks like he's got more bird shit to deal with." A shrug follows this then a glance to the walker with a smile as if to say 'i'm having a good night, don't fuck with me'. And believe me good nights don't come often with this one.
(james)
oh, the third Ahroun is quite amused
he's only a handful of years older than the Fang
(what.... four or so? of course, he's a handful of years older than half the pack)
so he remembers what it was like to be that age
there's a soft chuckle to harmonize with the hiss of finally opened beer
carbonation escaping into the candle-warmed air
one or two long swallows later he speaks again"But you've yet to learn humility, there's a difference."
said in a way to definitely not provoke the kid out of his good night
just a flat statement in response ot the conversation
even with Livingston in a state of constant blaze
the Gnawer is still probably the most mellow of the pack
(unless, of course, you're a kin mouthing off on the full moon)"Kennedy been back?" smirked on ascertation of the rather... speckled.... look the Tahoma has attained in new spring fashion, then dreads flip over his shoulders a bit when his skull shakes "Walkabout spirit side."
the beer bottle makes a journey through the air infront of him
one of those all-encompassing general gestures out over the lawn and parking lot
that explains everything to the Eagles: place, agenda, timeframe
they aren't the nosiest of packs into packmate business
which, is a good thing, really, given the sprawl of the Gnawer that sets his weight a bit more towards the Walker than centered in the chair
if Tuck doesn't understand the reference, though, he'd have to ask(rune)
It's Rune's turn for silence. Another drag, another swallow, another flicker of an assessing glance cast toward the Silver Fang. Her sharp features remain as impassive as ever, set in a casual, vaguely contemptuous mask that never seems to change from day to day, moment to moment."Mmmm." For their trouble, a vague murmur of sound from someplace deep in her throat: amen to James' preacherman, or something like it. She takes her time swallowing her beer. Carbonation escapes in a low, echoing hiss that reverberates against the amber glass. After a moment, she lifts her chin without glancing at Tucker, and offers, in a wry, self-mocking tone. "...sweetness-rhya. Don't make me beat it into your head, kid."
Yeah, nicknames for the Beta are probably a no-go.
(tucker)
A chuckle, he finishes the beer and sets it down. Grabbing the other, cracking it open with the snap hiss of escaping poisons. Looking over the Walker, slowly like a predator... nope not a chance."I wouldn't take it personal babe-rhya, you may be beautiful but I make it a point not to FUCK my sisters." The curse word emphasised making it more than it is, ripping the word down it's primal meaning. Sex, not for love but for the pure lust that must come with such a litany violation(musn't it?) He takes another drink from his beer and flick his ashes over the raining, looking to james for confirmation.
(james)
the Fang looks to the Gnawer for confirmationand the Gnawer. just. grins.
the expression raking itself across his mouth
it's rogue and animal and dangerous and....... leading into some pretty healthy laughter
(were you expecting ire?)
and there's another absent gesture with the beer
ending with the bottle's open mouth pointing at the youngest Ahroun"Doesn't matter who you're fuckin', kid, you still treat your betters with respect, no matter how beautiful they are."
something of a cool glance towards the Walker
(he doesn't get away with compliments when they're alone, but dare her to correct him on it now)
sure, he could have throated the kid for the insinuation - no matter how true it is
(cause that sex is lusty and raw and primal and dangerous and. goddamned. good.)
but why give the Fang - or either of them - any cause to lose the good mood"Seems like you can get over her looks and remember the appelation just fine."
(rune)
"That's good," mildly spoken, on the cusp of a swallow, as Rune shoots Tucker a glittering, amused little look. "Inbreeding and all. Wouldn't want you to father another cross-eyed little wanker like some I can remember, would we?"Her nostrils flare with a brief, pregnant snort as she flashes a look back to James. As ever, her features are opaque, only the bare edge of a sharp little smirk hooks the corners of her lush mouth upwards. "And I agree, wholeheartedly. I make the same damn point myself."
Tipping back the rest of her beer bottle, Rune drains it in one long swallow. Her cigarette is down to the last shreds of paper and tobacco smoldering next to the filter, and she finishes it off with a chemical-flavored drag, then stubs out the smoldering remnants in the ashtray on the table between them.
That's it for the moment, thought. The chair tips forward, and the Glass Walker coils out of it, like nothing so much as a sidewinder. Long legs, lean calves, bare to the mid-point of her muscled thighs where the satin shine of the black boxers contrasts sharply against her milky skin.
"I have some work to do, you boys have a good night," she says, slipping past the pair, toward the door. There she pauses, and glances down at Tucker's hair thoughtfully before reaching out and grabbing a few of the now blonde strands. "Nice 'do, kid." Over the crown of his head, a smirk and a wink for James.
The door swings open, then, and the Glass Walker saunters inside. If there seems to be more sway in her lean prowling gait, in the smooth curve of her hips, well, it isn't their imagination.
Not by a long shot.
(tucker)
"Believe me, i'm free from worry about mules in the family." his gaze follows the beta up out of the chair. Then inwardly cringing as the urrah runs her hands through his hair."Ya know, i'm still pissed about that shit, I look like a fucking retard." Yeah it was fifth grade but hell, if one went purley by age, Tuck would only just be leaving twelfth grade so somtimes one takes the first thing one thinks of and runs with it. "Nothin' like yer friend there though" he trails off to the bak of the exiting Beta. getting a good look at her silk covered ass and doing a ragabash style rethink of his thoughts on the litany. Muttering almost under his breath...
"She certainly is a knockout though..."
(james)
the chuckle at the Walker toying with the Fang's hair is rather subdued
James can't really say anything about hairstyles
not with the way dreads hang jungle-vine heavy on his shoulders
so instead he offers a return smile to her smirk
one of those grins that are meant just for her
(sly and playful and absofuckinglutely adoring)
it must be in regards to her little jibe... of course it is
because that's really all he can get away with right now
"Night Rune."well.... all he could get away with at the moment
because then she's sauntering on past and swiveling her way through the doors
(.... yow)
and since she's sort've providing a show
what kind of man would he be not to look??
the way he slouched in the chair allows a fairly unobstructed view
(good Gaia almighty)
whistling just as low as Tuck's almost under his breath remark
because they must'nt let the Beta know they say this
of....course.... yea... that's it
respecting your betters and all that"You can say that agian."
(tucker)
Lighting up another smoke before beginning to stare out into the sky again, Tuck begins to fidget in an almost palapable uncomfort."We never really talked man, I mean pack meetings and shit but outside of that... nothin'." Pausing to drink a little drink of his beer (it's his third and believe it or not the seventeen year old kid can't hold his alcohol very well.) he begins again, "I just mean, I really haven't gotten to know you that well. I mean Decker beat my ass and we had a little pow wow the next night, and quite a few since actually he's one of the people I respect most around here cause he gave me a fucking chance. Dire insulted my fucking dad, and I almost killed the little mule fucker for it. Luc and I had... words last night and Rune and erik are always somwhere to give me orders. But you, (words slurring just the slightest.) i never get a chance to talk to you, so tell me where ya from man?"
(james)
Tucker seems to fidgit from a palpable discomfort
James simply eases his weight back into the comfortable sprawl
all six feet two of him stretched out on that little plastic patio chair
Cochran IIs crossed at the ankle
fourth-hand BDUs wrinkling into their own fluctuating form of camoflage
wifebeater clinging to the easy curve of his lean torso
one tanned, muscular arm moving to stub out the last of that 'bro
the other lazily dangling that beer bottle from his fingertips
and from beneath the thin white cotton, the ashed scars of some near fatal battle long ago creeping over the tops of his shoulders from where they run a jagged pattern down his back
other than the disarray of dreads - it's actually his eyes that stand out most about him
deep umber, the color of rich soil liquid and depthless in the hollows beneath his brows
and even though they hold the righteous fury of a born, bred, trained, and battlehardened Full Moon
they're so easy going and mellow it's downright surprising
it's one of those quiet gazes that casts itself over at the Fang"I think it's the first time we've been around each other that it's not a meeting." and the soft grin widens a bit (they've always said he's too damned kind for his own good) matching the soft shine in those dark eyes "Decker's a good guy, he gave me a chance, too, I've never regretted packing up with him. He deserves every ounce of respect we both give him. Luc's a Skald." which, apparently, explains everything, apparently James has had words (bloodshed) with the boy, too "Livingston's a riot when he stops smoking enough to get out of his little spirit powwows and back into this world. Erik and Rune are the best Alpha and Beta I've had, I trust them implicitly and wouldn't question an order they gave me. Dire...."
the words drift off
and as mellow as the Gnawer is
hackles slowly work their way up his ritually scarred spine
and that easy (trademark) smile hardens around the edges".... is an untrustworthy coward that's a disgrace to the Nation and this pack."
and that's.... not a recent opinion, either
he doesn't say it, but it's pretty obvious he never wanted the Metis in the pack in the first place
but he wasn't going to argue with the decision of his Alpha
and while the Skald may have fought valiantly beside them in more than one battle
James, it seems, would be very happy if the Fenrir didn't return from his lesson
(he. hates. that. Garou)
but just as quickly as it came, the tension passes"I'm from Albany." which would explain why his accent seems to blend so well with the locals, save a few differences in the carry of certain sounds "Raised by a Sept up there, did the things our kind does," and lost so bitterly "...hit NYC a few years ago, then came down this way last fall and was in the right place at the right time for when we packed up."
(tucker)
He chuckles and nods adamantly at the rip into Dire. Drinking steadily through James' speech."What's eagle like?" It comes out as a blurt of a sentance. "I mean, i've never trucked with a bird sprit that wasn't Falcon, and I just wondered what the totem itself is like." A shrug, laid back like the gnawer, he could get used to this...
(james)
finally, the Gnawer reaches out to claim the remaining beer
taking a moment to add a cigarette to the ensemble
Camel 99s rather than Marlboro
the pack and zippo tossed onto the table between them
he's noted that Tucker's slurring a bit
though there's an idle thought the kid may hold liquor better than himself
so he's just taking his time through the alcohol
even if it is just beer"Not sure how to compare." offered on a plume of smoke "My last pack was accepted by Mother Rat, she was gritty and tough like the city she lived in. Eagle's more etherial, stronger in a different way, almost seems omnipotent.... the day he accepted us was like he took over and became the sky."
no Galliard is he
even with the level of unexpected education he has from Frankenweiler upbringing
sometimes the Hood falls short of words
but it's the tone that creates the imagery
the wistfulness of the musician that allegorizes the sheer awe and power of their totem(tucker)
"Ya know, when I was in Texas... I had some ganwer friends a bunch of fucking wierdos if ya ask me... but ya know what?" Tucker is finished with his third beer and yes he is, though to to the point of funny adjectives (trashed, blitzed, hammered, plasterd, etc.) certifiably drunk."Those guys were real an' I tell ya you're good guys even if the fucking elders from my tribe with the fucking sticks so far up their asses don't see it. I can't see how you guys can be considered commoners, hell you're fuckin honest, strong, and you got numbers on yer side that's fer damn sure. Anyway i'm drunk, but I mean this. You're a hell of a guy james. I hope I can pack up with you folks some day."
Running his hand through recently dyed blonde hair reminicent of eminem or a backstreet boy he chuckles. "You're all a good bunch of urrah, even if Rune gives me shit and Luc thinks I wanna fuck his ex-ol' lady, WHICH I DON'T (adamant, about this one. Last night was a misunderstanding)." He removes a small piece of paper from his pocket recognizable as a hooter the size of a mans pinkie and offers it to the dreadlocked Ahroun.
"Got this while I was up north, figured I'd share the wealth. I'd stay and smoke but i'm tired and and I hear that couch calling my name. That thing is sooo much more comfortable than that damn semi-trailer was!! Anyway night man." Gettting up he stumbles over to James and gives him one last work of wisdom. "you're a good fuckin' guy jimmy and I tell you what if you ever need anything I gotcha. ANYTHING."
With that Tuck stumbles into the condo, smaking his head into the door frame before he gets all the way in, crashing down onto the couch with his face down in the cushions, sure Rune would yell at him tomorrow about his shoes but fuck it sleep was a now thing.
(james)
he listens to the Fang rambling
really listens - not some tolerant smile and nod most kids would get when spouting off drunk
he's giving his full and undivided attention
allright, maybe there IS someone James can outdrink
(and the fact endlessly amuses him)
the mention of Luc's ex (bitch) gets his attention
though brows certainly life as the fat roll is pulled out and offeredit's easy enough for James to give something
he's given up his last beer or scrap of food to a packmate without even thinking twice
(twice now, he's almost given his life)
it's the Hood in him - others need and he provides
but to get something, from a Fang, something even as menial as a joint
well, it means something, especially following the rambly speel
given the week he's had of being told and feeling worthless
it means something more than Tuck probably understands
and the Gnawer just smiles (genuinely) and laughs"Night Tucker... thank you.... watch th...."
that would be one Ahroun's arm snapping out like lightning to wrap fist in the other's jacket
just enough to steady the kid's balance to get in the door, not literally through it
(and James is strong, he doesn't even brace himself for leverage)
not bothering to finish the sentencea bit of a peer to make sure the kid lands on the couch
Posted by james at June 05, 2003 12:00 AM
then dark eyes drop back to the little gift
knowing it wasn't chiminage - just sharing
..... kid doesn't seem so bad after all
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