November 21, 2003.11.21.03. - grand central station [...everybody][Wicker Park - Yuliya, Sputnik, Katya, Tristan, Lars, Jim]
(yuliya korjevna)
muttermuttermutter
Under her breath as she walked was the low sound. It wasn't even in English, though in these cities thats not really all that remarkable. Steady walking (...stalking...) pace into the park, head sunk down into the collar of her heavy leather jacket some to keep the wind off her neck as she muttered.
That meeting had not gone as well as she would have liked. At least she had only gotten blood on her hands. That was easily washed off.
Dark eyes watchful as she moved. Body on that fine line of readiness. Manner was... offsetting (cold) and she watched as much for the enmy as the law as the curious who got too curious... or maybe they all were the enemy.
The chill was making her left leg ache some though.
Damned scars.(james)
last night and this morning consisted of unloading
while the others of the pack - and affiliates - had tended to cleaning out the warehouse
James had to make sure his Family was taken care of, too
he took longer to get to Chicago than the others
he had to clean up loose ends back homeone of those loose ends was the condo
the other was the pack's warehouse at the Port
certain things had to be cleaned out and stored
who knew when they were coming back, if they were at all
while the holding is still unavaible for subsequent lease - thanks to Rune's kin - there's no evidence of its inhabitants
it's nothing more than an unused warehouse
now, a portion of the furniture and amenities had been delivered to Chicago
(you think he used up all that cash on the digs alone? should know James better than that, there's a load leftover....)
he spent the majority of the last twenty four hours moving it from van to new homethen? the Ahroun slept
a Warrior's sleep
out cold in thirty seconds or less or your first dream is freethe Full Moon's stomach was what woke him up after the sun had dutifully slept
a Warrior's appetite
scratch that - a Bone Gnawer's appetite
it's good enough to convince him it's time to venture out into the cold nightcollar on the patchwork trench snugged up around the back of his neck
dreadlocks hanging heavy and free to further insulate against the cold winds sneaking out of the Northeast
tatty secondhand BDUs planting his ass firmly on a bench in the park
hands warmed by the kilbasa dog coaxed out of the cart's owner juuuust before "shop" closed for the night
dull Cochran II's settled on either side of a steaming cup of coffee on the ground(sputnik)
Cold, but not as cold, compared to the near arctic temperatures that he'd grown up with. Windy, just a tad, did that stop him from standing outside at this time of night yelling into a payphone. I don't think so. The loud, deep bellows of Russian echo into the night. By the bright shade of red, depicting anger on the hairy man's face, you'd suspect he was swearing at the caller. The only words in English that can be made out or a few names. One of which being Wicker Park. Una. Fuck You, and brat. Oh, the joys of parental love. Sputnik, since he is called that, stood dwarfing one of those little phone boots that stood out on a lonely sidewalk. He towered over the booth, resting an arm on the top of it. The metal ringed phone cord getting twisted more and more with the constant jerks and turns he made, a poor attempt at pacing. Thick, long black-grey dreds fell past his shoulders, a full beard and mustache covered his face. Giving Sputnik the impression that he appeared far older than he was. Tattered clothes of denim, flannel, and a leather jacket clung to the massive Russian's form.(yuliya)
A little bird told her.. or maybe it was just the sound on the wind. What ho? Russian... always of interest to the Russian born girl and her path altered some to at least come to where she might see said speaker.
Hands were shoved deep into her jean pockets, worn blues wrapped around well toned legs like a second skin. God how she loved her favorite jeans. Its a small miracle they aren't stained to the point of being conspicuous by now. Dark hair hanging in windswept wild abandon around her face as she walked nearer the sound of the shouting voice, eyes flickering over the others out that night.
Flicker and flash
And stop on James as he walks. Or rather what he wore as she paused a moment not far from a telephone booth to look James over more.
Now that was interesting... she'd been keeping the low profile because some people didn't know where she was.
Gorsha migth have the boys out to bring errant gunrunner back home. Family love and all that jazz. He might be mad she took her interests with her move.
But James certainly didn't look like any of the ruskie boys who toed the line in Toronto... and he looked to be family. Then again, she'd run afoul of the best and worst of such in her work. Trust did not come easily and she was a cold cold bitch on a good day.
That was not today.(james)
there's something about the instincts of a predator
sharp and alert and always on the lookout
or, more appropriately at the moment, what what's looking
even with the innermost volcano quelled beneath the waning crescent high above
sometimes you can just feel those kinds of things
the smattering of Russian rolling thickly on the waves of wind was enough to partially pull his attention from the all but gone dog
it's been inhaled in the proper Bone Gnawer way, of course
but it's the lingering study from something else that actually draws his eyes skyward then phoneboothwardthe proverbial bear dwarfing the booth had been intent on his own conversation
this, however, was quite different
and deep umber eyes stroll the sidewalk towards Yuliya
casually watching her as she watches him
discerning her eyes are more on his jacket than his face
which may give away what, exactly, she's looking at
some things are National, others are strictly Familywhen her gaze roams more towards his features
chin lifts up in a trademark nod
last bite of that dog placed on his tongue and chewed
but his attention doesn't waver this time(sputnik)
there's something about the instincts of a predator
sharp and alert and always on the lookout
or, more appropriately at the moment, what what's looking
even with the innermost volcano quelled beneath the waning crescent high above
sometimes you can just feel those kinds of things
the smattering of Russian rolling thickly on the waves of wind was enough to partially pull his attention from the all but gone dog
it's been inhaled in the proper Bone Gnawer way, of course
but it's the lingering study from something else that actually draws his eyes skyward then phoneboothwardthe proverbial bear dwarfing the booth had been intent on his own conversation
this, however, was quite different
and deep umber eyes stroll the sidewalk towards Yuliya
casually watching her as she watches him
discerning her eyes are more on his jacket than his face
which may give away what, exactly, she's looking at
some things are National, others are strictly Familywhen her gaze roams more towards his features
chin lifts up in a trademark nod
last bite of that dog placed on his tongue and chewed
but his attention doesn't waver this time(sputnik)
Bear, indeed, more like a giant neanderthal. His height topped him around 4 inches taller than six feet, someone would wager. And, by the broad bulk under the leather jacket, it's a surprise he manages to find clothing. Tattered and half-stitched together in shoddy repair work. He pulls the phone away from his ear, continues to yell into it. Something about telling the girl on the other "NO" for those that can understand Russian. He, then, out of sheer ventilation, slams the phone down several times on top of the cheap, aluminum covering, placing a nice dent into the frame work. The phone gets tossed away, left to dangle near the sidewalk, as the Ruskie pushes away.Large hands seek out the warmth of coat pockets. Brown eyes, hidden beneath the volumes of dreds, slide across the street. Nostrils flaring out briefly to take in the different scents. His own, unbathed smell, wafting in the air around him, marking easily for a vagrant of some caliber. Beer. Grease. Weed. Vodka. Women and more vodka. One heavy boot planted in front of the other, making his way across the street, up wind towards James and Yuliya.
(yuli)
Lacking in the advantages some of her brethren, she relies on her eyes, her reflexes, and survival. Its really amazing how much someone can learn in these tenets alone. Her attention on james, one hands untucks from tight jeans pockets to run throuhg her hair, forcing it back off her face. Thats a futile battle as the wind begins moving it agian once her hand had resought its warm place. It did free her eyes long enough to look clearly at him.
clang clang clang of the telephone on a booth nearby, jarring metal on metal and roared Russian tore her attention to that way and it must be her night.
Or maybe not, depending on one's view... since the one leaving the booth looked startlingly like someone she'd been laying low from.
Of all the cursed damned luck.
She looks back James way and that answer 'sup nod and her path is set for the moment at least, walking his way, glances tossed back towards where Sputnik was coming from.
Yeah this could be a looooooooong Friday night.(katya)
Despite the propaganda disguised as the tourism bureau, the streets her expensive heels clipped upon were broken and dirty. Chill bumps adorned slender calves, and subtlely shapely thighs beneath the conservatively cut black skirt clinging to her form. A black leather jacket obscured her slim waistline and slight feminine swell. Lustrous hair, the color of a moonless night, was an interesting counterpoint to clean pale skin, flushed with the comfortable (to her) chill. The weather reminded her of her homeland.Then something else did. Eyes like grey ice, shifted beneath thin eyebrows (russian high arch tilt) to fall upon the unignorable bear with his utterance of the word, NYET! so loudly on the payphone. Slim fingers played about the strap of the purse over her shoulder as she considered the man speaking in her native tongue..
(james)
(NYET! slamslamslamdentslam)
it draws a wayward glance from the Ahroun
(no is something even he understands of the foreign language)
maybe, even, a glint of amusement which considers curving his lips
(can't help it, reminds him of his packmate)
but that's muted in the twinge of.... something... that's in dark eyes
(can't help it, reminds him of his other packmate)it's gone by the time he catches Yuli's nod
steaming cup of coffee's picked up in one (mostly) gloved hand and moves with him
boots planting on the sidewalk in deliberate sliiiiide to the left
subtle invitation in response to those repeated glances back at the bear
the other (mostly, damn they need repair) gloved hand searches the pockets of the patchwork trench for his pack of smokeshe looks relaxed, yes
but the subtle ripple in the ever-present sphere of crackling Rage that encompasses him speaks otherwise(sputnik)
~the little trouble maker could be up to anything. It was your idea to bring her along you know. ALL your fault if anything happens to the poor girl. Remember Toronto, eh. Yea, you remember Toronto, you sick furry fuck!~ Internal dialogue chattered away inside the brain of the Nyet yelling bear. At least, Sputnik didn't see goblins running amuck! His voice, growlish and gruff, rumbles once more in mumbled Russian to the air around him. It was hard to say what he heard, especially as the wind seems to tousle a little more violently through the tattered fringes of his pants. Dark eyes fixate on the two new comers, that have acquired his attention.Yuliya garnered an unrecognizeable glance. James, on the other hand, was looked over with critical eyes, studying the patterns in clothwork. A chuckle gargles in his throat, continuing to head their way.
(yuli)
There's nothing in that face, set of body, demeanor that said she was in the bit bothered by James as she drew close. There's barely the impression of a smile. She's being awfully polite, for her as she did that much though. The prickling sense (...not unlike fire ants marching and biting along the skin...) noted, marked for later process and she stops. Body coils to ready stillness and she gives another nod.
"Its nice jacket, you have."
Not nearly as broken as some's English but no where near very grammatical. Good mixed accent there too only mad eit more unrecognizable as English in her throaty low voice. Head turns to glance ove rher shoulder, dark eyes trailing off Katya to Sputnik again and yes, it may wel be a looooong night before her attention comes back to James.
Girl had a measure of spunk it would seem. Some called it grit. She just preferred heinous bitch.(katya)
Eyes lingered on the rear arch of the russian bear, before following the next logical course of action. A deliberate pan located the agitated one's line of sight. The terminal was James. The former had been angry. Pissed even. The latter was burning with something more than the momentary passion of adrenaline arousal. Gaia's Fury.Ice grey eyes narrow, as the clip of her expensive heels becomes silent; her graceful stride of feminine sway became cautious and slow. Coiled.
Yet, she did not stop moving in the threesome's direction. Ears perked to hear what she could over the chill breeze.
(james)
there might be a measure of relief that the woman walks right up
or at least doesn't let it show she's affected by that invisable sphere he's more than aware is there
the measure is limited, however, for all the kindness in those deep umber eyes he remains just as cool in regard"Thank."
the last letter of the word left off
it may be from the Camel long that's dangling from his lips
it may be from something else entirely which he hasn't let on just yet
he's not letting on to a vast majority of things at the moment
the roiled Russian was moving closer
the clack of expensive heels had stopped
James still seems rather at ease, considering how new he was in this territory
battered bronze Zippo whpCLACKS sparkage to the flame of the smoke
and the slim cigarette is pinned between two long fingers to gesture towards the approaching storm"He both'rin' yeh?"
the accent is pure New York, born and bred
but it's filtered by something else which clips it more than necessary
responsiblity may lay in the misalignment of battle-scarred jaw that causes the salutory grin to be a bit lopsided(sputnik)
~Ol'Mother Hubbard went to the cubbard, to get poor Sputnik a bone. When she bent over, hey! Sputnik took over and rode Yuliya's ass all the way home... Nice piece of work, Ruskie, gotta love chasing after her clear cross two continents, three countries, and too many provinces. At least, she doesn't like Ricky Martin, We hope~ more internal dialogue, pounding away at the frontal lobes of his brain. The corner of his left eye twitches slightly. Brown eyes, turning finally to slide over to Yuliya. Recognition comfirmed. The soft, sweet sound of her voice washes over Sputnik's ears, drowning away the annoying chatter in his brain for now. He seemed more relaxed now that he had sights of her. His long-legged gait slows down, approaching the bench. The rolling waves of rage, noted and filed away into his brain."'Cuse pardon. No mean interruptions. Have smoke, da?" the thick voice rolls out broken words of English. His accent, rather thick, upon his tongue when he spoke. Brown eyes roam over to the girl once more... her name spoken with familiarity. "Yuliya."
(yuli)
"Nyet."
Short, simple and to. the. point. She shrugs offhandedly and glances at the approaching Sputnik. Katya had earned her glance and until she became more interesting or invovled the attention lay between the two men. One she knew, and one she suspected she should be getting to know. Soft inward draw of breath as Sputnik closes and she looks over his way, ghost of a smile there.
He thought he'd caught up. The chase had only begun because she'd fight like hell not to be stuck back in the wool wrapped confines of familial love that was her family in Toronto.
"Misha..."
Wonder given where his other half was before she looked back ayt James. Its a damned touchy place between two of them. She managing well enough for the time being.(james)
musician's quick fingers roll the pack of Camels and zippo in offer to the bear
if he's not bothering her, James could - at the very least - be cordial
even if the tension between them is thickening
he's figured out she's Yuliya, but that guy probably isn't Misha
(there's the barest niggle of interference as his own inner Fury clashes with the meager amount of the bear's)
and until further introductions are given or requested
the dreadlocked Ahroun basically stays quiet
he is new in town, after all(sputnik)
The other half, as it were, being of sound mind and trouble, was held up in a motel room with cable t.v.(so Sputnik hoped) Money spent quickly between Una and himself, Sputnik's consumption out weighing his petite partner in crime. His head bobs in a quick nod to Yuliya, eyes still studying her, staring, but not boring into her (just yet...)The click of expensive heels over pavement, finally, had time to register in his slow brain. Or was it slow at all? Brown eyes, sliding back over a black-grey dredlocked-covered shoulder. His nostrils flared out once more, as if, he could smell her scent. Expensive. Pretty. Not his type, but Katya still drew his eyes for a brief moment. Attention span wanes slightly, moving over to James once more.
Big hand breaks from his pocket, stretching out to pluck up the offered bit of nicotine and lighter. Poison in a paper stick, it wasn't going to kill him any, same as the vodka. Clickflicksnap shut all in one motion, red and orange burning embers, smoke inhaled to fill massive lungs, expelled through his nostrils. Eyes squinted as the smoke stings at his eyes. That will teach him to have a keen perception while smoking. He hands the lighter back to James. "Sputnik." thumbs up at himself. "Yuliya." bobs his head to the girl. "Family?" gestures to the familiar patterns in James' clothes. "Wander and know street? Find good place to catch next meal, da?" again with the broken English.
(katya)
When she first felt the blast furnace of Luna's fury coming from the american, it was first thought to bypass and spy from a distance. Garou? Yes, most likely. But, that included the possibility of the Enemy..
But, the random meet between the pair changed her mind.Instead she approached. Her scent she allowed to carry before her. Clean, perfumed. Her graceful stride was poise, meant to accent what should be regality in the face of the street people. But, her eyes of glacial ice had trouble maintaining contact with the one who exuded the furious energy.
A cigarette appeared between slim fingers, "Pardon me. Might I trouble you for a light?" Her voice was slavic from the first syllable. A rolling lilt of guttural vowels, and soft consonants that spoke of bleak, picturesque tundra.
Her own Rage was a small thing. Marginally, more than the bear's.
(yuli)
She needed a god stiff drink.
Bad meeting. Good meeting. Just a lot of business and not enough of anything else. That was never a good way to start things.He probably hated her nickname, but then she hated his too. Sputnik sounded ike some name a geekboy sspace wannabe would have, not her cousin. Not as if he hadn't heard it allllllllll before. Silence reigning from her after the perfunctory introduction and listening. It goes from two (as if thats not enough) to three with Katya and she's planning a vodka run after this. More would require violence or sex somewhere down the night's road too... just for stress relief. But the veritable crowd with their little or large furious feelings broiling beneath the skin made her trigger finger itch.
Thats never good.(james)
"James" speech slowed down to accomodate sharp accent and clarify the slur, given their broken English, he'll take no chances on their misunderstanding him on the important stuff, and chin dips in nod to take the brown dreads (it's a bloody accent and dreadlock convention - his, however, are far longer in nearly reaching the bottom of his ribcage) in a little dance over his shoulders "Am if yeh reco'nize summa these."with the arrival of the sleek and expensively perfumed one on the scene
he's not taking his chances blurting anything out
especially given the warning that came through the Chain the other day
(and the added flux his rage-dar's giving off....)
regardless, the Hood is nothing but cordial unless given a reason not to be
and Momma taught him his manners
soon as the lighter's back in his hands
fingers twist to SNACK it open and offer a flame to the Slavic wolf"Bout what'm doin'." tossed back at Sputnik, even if he's making sure he doesn't set Katya on fire "New'n town.... these ya digs?"
(katya)
It was a show of civility. An icebreaker in the initial stages of greeting. Warily, the smaller wolf leaned to concentrate on the flame, it somehow paling in comparison to the fire of the Garou before her. Eyes keeping the two males in her peripheral vision she puffed the long cigarette to life. Yuliya garnered her attention as well, but with her manner of being standoffish she was marked as Kin. And an intelligent one at that.A blue-white stream of smoke poured breathily from soft full pink lips, "Thank you," her English was flawless. Not broken like the bear's. Eyes flicker to both men, gauging mood.
"I recognize the patterns as well," she said low.(sputnik)
Cancer stick hangs from pressed lips, the only stark contrast to the dark brown foilage of hair that covers his face. The beard narled with tangles, almost as badly as his dredlocks. Didn't Una ever make him bathe?? The cigarette almost never leaves his mouth, inhaled deeply, held for a what seem like minutes, and smoke, finally, expelled through the nostrils. The Russian bear of a vagrant moves himself off the street to the nearest edge of concrete in the vicinity of the bench. Somewhere closer to Yuliya, to protect her, if anything happens."Recognition confirmed, cousin. Luna swells like pregnant bovine, and you carry great waves of intensity. I feel it." points to himself, "She feel it." nods his head back to Yuliya. "We all feel it." a chuckle garbles in his throat. His body hunches over, arms pinned on bent knees, drawn up so his boots scuffed over the asphalt. He looks upward at Katya again. "Princess." nods his head in greeting.
(yuli)
She had been thinking exactly the same thing. Didn't Una ever make him bathe... when she wasn't around to bitch. Not as if she's the paragon of cleanliness... the soft coppery tang of blood was still faint on her hands. The things she did for the family business... She doesn't move away from Sputnik or closer, or away from anyone else. She's staked her own little piece of the asphalt by that bench. Make them move her if they wante dit. Dark eyes watch them all and that ghost of an almost smile still lingers.
"Hard not to feel..."
Muttered comment in her thick accent. Not quite broken like Sputnik. Its fairly intelligible that time.(tristan)
On some street corner, in a galaxy far, far away....
Or, you know, just out of hearing distance from the parkThe strains of violin finally fade into silence. Lanky pretty boy kin accepts the last of the applause for the evening with a ready grin. He slides to a crouch, money in the case is scooped up and tucked into the depths of denim with just a glance and quick count. Not bad for a days work, really. A soft cloth wipes down the well loved instrument, a check to insure that the inside of the case is warm enough, the bow and violin tucked away and locked up into its case.
He stands then, and stretches one more time, case hoisted in hand, and he heads off through the park towards the hole in the wall diner that exists on the other side, as well as the seedy motel called home for now.
Long steps eat the cement with even, unhurried strides, while he whistles softly.
(james)
"Welc'm"the Ahroun's chuckle is low to wrap around the word on an exhale of smoke
he'd be surprised if they didn't mark him Garou by the rage
it's the integral details of "Family" that had him most curious
you can't always judge a book by it's cover, and all that
(plus reflection that someone, months ago, unbelievably, had him pegged as a certain firey kin's Fenrir mate.... now just because he packs with a bunch of Germans.....)"Jukebox. Drum' on Skull'. Fos'ern fullmoon a Eagle'" just as casually offered as the pack of Camels and that light, and so quiet it doesn't go beyond their ears - civility and manners, of course. Given present company, perhaps an exploration of formality would continue the whole good first impressions, and there's an subtly expectant raise of one brow towards the frame of jungle-vine dreads they do the same "Th'n I correct the Pa'k's unclaim...."
(katya)
From this vantage she was taller than the vagrant russian. With bent knees, and hunched over frame he nods to her. Fitting, somehow. Princess?
Ice grey eyes regarded him neutrally. Regal. Poised. A nod of her own, "Greetings," But she bestowed no title upon him.Eyes pan slow, and careful, between the two. Her stance shifts with a graceful motion that changes her feminine lines. Cigarette dangles betwixt slim fingers leaving smoke to wisp in the breeze, as she keeps the pair in her vision.
"I am called Katya," she answered in a hard-yet-soft tone that seemed at home in the chill of the air. Though, she did not risk saying more so publically, as James did. One eyebrow arched, "Eagle? With an individual known as Decker?"
(sputnik)
"Sputnik. Christian name by homid relation. Misha Croviik. But, I, Sputnik, cleeath, Spirit walker. From overseas, no claim land. Only claim kinfolk." he replies in a low rumbled voice. The jarbled words hard to make out.(lars)
*The man walked down the street. His body covered in a columbo styled trenchcoat, his hair falling out of the hat that he wore on his head. the brim of the hat was pushed low as if trying to cover his face.*(yuli)
It makes its usual rounds and she's not been one for etiquette, manners, subtly in some things ever ..Yulya, you have to be polite... in someone else's wet dream.
"Yuliya... many call Siberia. Misha kin."
Its not very well said but maybe the point gets across in her low throaty mutter as she looks between the three with dark (...bored?...) eyes. She extracts her own pack of cigarettes and lighter, cheap and dirty does the trick with her nicotine and one is duly lit and drawn upon slowly.
Yeah, thats the trick.(sputnik)
His head tilts back, turning brown eyes upward at Yuliya, which seem to soften upon contact. He offers her a grin, finally, the cigarette pulled from his mouth, before it burned off his beard. "Been looking for you, trouble." he replies in a teasing tone. "Not escape so easily, da."(james)
(Princess? Ice-Princess more like it....)
inner monologue aside, his chin dips to register the name
noting she did not take the calculated risk that he felt necessary in the situation
luckily the park is mostly empty at this time of night
else he wouldn't have uttered the words
to each their own, of course
prime example being Sputnik's jarbled response
it takes the Ahroun a moment to translate
evidenced by the slight closure of the space between his brows that soon spreads in comprehension
(allright, so he is Misha.... good assumption there, Jamey-boy)"'ll stick wi'h Sputnik'n Yul'ya." easier to say with the slur, and that's what they introduced themselves by anyway "Claim fam'ly.... n some squattin' space ov'r by th' Riv'rfron'." and when his eyes draw strafe back to Katya, there's an aire of play lingering in deep umber "Yeh.... made'n impression, did 'e?"
it's more chuckled than accusatory
rather amused by the phrasing she chose(tristan)
As he moves, free hand works through pockets, finally locating his batter pack of smokes, one shaken free and propped between lips before the pack is tucked away again. Afterwards, the search resumes to find the lighter that always seems to run to pockets other then where his pack ends up.Probably because of the light offered that pretty young thing earlier in the evening.
A grin, it’s located, and flick of bic sets flame to tobacco and paper, inhale taken as lighter is tucked away, heading towards yonder group that looks to hold at least one, possibly two familiar forms.
(katya)
The barest knitting of her pretty brow indicated her dislike of such a public announcement. Her eyes glanced around as she tapped ash upon the already dirty pavement. When no one was near, she modulated her tone to not carry above the breeze, "Katya Valentinovna. Merciless Vengence. Cliath New Moon of the Shadow Lords," Accent was similar to Sputnik and Yuliya, but it was obvious her grasp of the language was greater.Her head canted with her answering nod to James, "Da. Rather memorable," she said dryly, before placing the slim cylinder between her soft lips anew. Ember glowed as her eyes narrowed to avoid the stream.
(yuli)
Long draw on her cigarette and dark eyes drift to Sputnik and lips finally pull into a smile. Its still not warm and its bordering smirk.
"Not caught because found Misha."
That vague hint of challenge and she seemed nonplussed by the fact she's in with a group of garou to her kinfolk status. Eyes finally leave him to look between James and Katya, Katya and James and she nods, cigarette dangling between fingers for the moment while she's speaking.
"Is fine."
He could call her worse and she'd barely bat an eye. He was family. Another drag, inhale, smoke drifting out lazily. That helped the tension that strung shoulders a bit tight.(sputnik)
"Nyet..." a growlish garble sputtered from his mouth. Face, quick with emotions, twists into a scowl up at Yuliya. He flicks the cigarette from his hand, away and high, in an arc through the air to the other side of the street somewhere. The red cherry a distant beacon of light. "Found. Come with Sputnik before night pass." more barked out than asked. He turns to focus his attention on the other garou present.(james)
his chin dips again
drawing the feature - in need of a shave, by now, five o'clock shadow this early in his day - towards the layers of clothing insulating his chest
a subtle show of appreciation she decided to make the announcement even if her disdain was telling
months spent packed (mated) to a certain rapier-tongued serpentwolf made one aware of such facial microexpressions
and, dare it risk the Lord's further ire, her clarification has him laughing softly again"'e's a habit a doin' tha'." grinned in a lopsided and even jovial street performer's way "S'why I do comp'ny PR."
the verbal sparring beginning between the other two Gnawers doesn't seem to phase him
regardless of Yuli's kinfolk status - James looks at kin differently than most other Garou
in fact he probably wouldn't know what to do with a kin that didn't hold their own ground or act like a Garou themselvesit's a measure of habit that has his own eyes straying
looking out past the gathered group
(one guy in a trenchcoat, one guy carrying a rather familiar case)
but soon enough his attention turns back to those at hand
long log of embers flicked to top the neat pile of ash that had been growing by his left Cochran(lars)
*The guy is fairly muscled, a fact not hidden by the coat. And as he walks by people he sniffs the air unseen under his jacket.He gets to just past the group, and stops. Blinking*
(tristan)
James looks at Kin differently – thus the willingness to follow him to ‘greener pastures’ here in Chicago. Smirk. Yeah. Greener, or something. Anyway.
(We won’t even think of other pastures enjoyed in Newark. No, of course not. He misses him. Sigh)Anyway! Back to the present, and the dredlocked brother up ahead. Strides carry him to the group, there’s a nod up for James (hang around them long enough, you’ll pick up the habit too..) but he doesn’t interrupt, just rests his hand on James’ shoulder as he sets the violin on the bench next to his friend before tucking his hand into his pocket. Slight nod for miss bitch....um. Katya. The others, he doesn’t know.
(yuli)
"Nyet..."
The rapid lingual shift into something more comfortable then English, and gutteral harsh tones in low throaty voice. She's never been one to simply knuckle under for the fact he's garou and she's kinfolk. Call it that spunk in her that just doesn't quit. Russian coming now as she faces Sputnik's scowl with a faint frown of her own.
Not too emotional, this one.
"I am not about to be hauled back to Gorsha because he's worried I can't handle it on my own, Misha. If you think I'm going back, wel... this won't be a pleasant meeting. Besides, I have my shit established here now.."
Rattling off in cold russian and if she cares others can here or understand its not shown.(lars)
*Lars stops and turns, and then starts walking toward the others, his body a bit tight, just prepared for action just in case..*
"Hello?" *He asks a slight german accent to his words, even as he looks them over*(katya)
Grey eyes held silvery facets as she regarded the jovial, American Bone Gnawer. A slow smile began to adorn those soft full lips, "PR, ah?" a drag. Smoke blew slowly, "I suppose that would not be Decker's duty," she conceded with a slight dip of her chin with her smile. Dark hair blew forward. Fingers brushed the locks back, with casual ease. Eyes pan to the pair on the bench in their argument. Katya, unlike James, did not have a modern good-natured view of Kin. They were either worthwhile, or they were not. Useful breeding stock, breeding stock, or dead. Those were the only ways they came.A newcomer approached and passed. Noted. As was his hesitance. Most of the sheep approached only cautiously, and when passing scurried to hasten their departure. Anything other than that attracted her attention. Ice grey eyes peered over her shoulder at him. Shapely legs shifted beneath the clingy material of that skirt. Possibly to relieve the chill of the air.
Eyes fasten upon Lars as he speaks with a neutral expression. "Good evening," her voice was cool in its slavic sound
(lars)
*A hand moves up the brim of his hat. The scar that could only have come from a claw marrs his face, going from the top left of his face, just going around his eyes and across his face. The blue eyes look at those gathers, a touch of mirth in them, but that is drowned out by the intensity in them.*"Good evening...cousins."
(sputnik)
Ah, for the love of Mother Russia. The burly Russian bear, tilts his dredlocked head up at her, thick brows narrowing. He shifts his weight forward, grunting softly, pulling himself up to turn and look down at his kin. The Russian flowing from his mouth, fluent and smooth, unbroken like his English. "I am not here to haul your ass back to Gorsha. Una and I are here to keep your pretty ass out of trouble, Yuliya. Whether you like it or not. I, no leave. Nor wish to uproot you from what you have here." ah, the bane of twisted affections. So many sleepless nights lost to this pretty girl.His head, snaps around, breaking off the Russian to look over at Lars with a critical eye. He replies to Yuliya in English. "We finish later. Private." Sputnik regards Lars with a raised brow, tilting his head, a hand comes up to scratch at his bearded chin. Eyes traveling over the newer faces of Tristan now.
(james)
and now the Russian begins
consider James out of that conversation
he can understand yes, no, and a few cuss-worthy phrases
but that's about it on his repetoire of that language
but Tristan's arrival is a good enough distraction
and that mostly forgotten about cup of (still steamy) coffee raised over his head in offer"Fam'ly I talk 'bout claimin'." interjected at some point when the other two Gnawers take a moment to breath, just to be sure he's heard "Trist'n..... Yul'ya, Sputnik - cousins - n Katya."
nodding at each in turn
direction taken by the top of his head clarifying names to faces for the kin
he doesn't see the slight nod since the tall kin is standing above him
so has no idea they've met before"Mmhmm." still warmth in his tones, a certain fondness for his packmate even if they are, basically, poking fun at his expense "Manners 'pparen'ly a not in his bag a tricks. Make up f'r it in oth'r way."
that's when his attention falls on Lars
and while he's all easy smiles and seems rather approachable in the way he interacts with the others
you can bet there's some intense studying behind those deep umber eyes
(recognition, as something unseen clashes)
knowing as well as the pretty Lord that rare is the body that would approach such a group undaunted"Evenin." obvious NY State accent clipped further by a strange slur "... cousin."
(yuli)
Some days it was a pain in the ass to have family. At least today wasn't on the high end of that list. He stood (...subtle ntimidation factor that doesn't seem to work...) and she faces him, resolute... trace defiant, that becomes unnecessary with his words.
"Fine."
So verbose when she doesn't need to be and looks to everyone else, face falling back into cool impassivity. She didn't stand around waiting to make the next generation. She got right into the thick of it. She'd lost a lot of the fear factor a long time ago.(lars)
"I am Lars."
*He says simply. He offers Katya a hand in handshake, and then the same to James*
(tris)
“Pleasure...” To the round of introtuctions. Yu’ya, Sputnik (wasn’t that some russian spy station or something?) and of course, richbitch. “Katya and I’ve met – Madoc get your car working for you yet? I forgot to ask him during our drinking contest yesterday.” Easy grin flashed at the ice queen, the boys rather fond of the burly scots. Unfortunately, the scotsman is fond of anything in a skirt – and Tris doesn’t do drag....(katya)
The unspoken clash of Rage, caused the slim, pretty wolf to step slightly to the side. James and Lars was not an area she stood in the middle of.When Tristan arrives on the scene, her ice greys flickered with recognition, "Tristan," she stated, with a nod, before disregarding him as Kin.
Mention of Madoc.. And her attention turns back, "Nyet, I have not called upon his services yet," she responded, "I have been busy," Quite frankly, she could very easily have a thing for burly scots under the correct circumstances. Tristan was pretty, but he set of Katya's 'Gay-dar'.Then the boy-Kin was truly disregarded as the Rage-born newcomer gets close enough to make contact.
Lars' strong grip finds her slim hand. Cool from the night breeze, "Katya," she nodded, after reclaiming her proferred hand.
(sputnik)
A low growl erupts from Sputnik, swear words tossed to the Heavens in deep, gutteral Russian. His head shakes, taking his eyes away from Yuliya. The sensation of Rage did not bother him at all. He felt quite comfortable with it. One born of his nature knew about the essence of rage. Good way to kill one's mom.... "I, Sputnik. Yuliya." he offers, stretching a dirty, big hand to Lars.(james)
"James. Nice a fin'lly meetcha."the burnt out Camel long was flicked away to the wet grass across the pathway as the Lord and Lars shake
then the hand taken in his own, padded by the mostly fingerless glove
by the tempered strength in the shake - seems he could crush Lars' if he wanted to
luckily, the boy's given him no reason for aggression
and while Katya may move a step away from the newcomer and his Rage
James, pointedly, doesn't(pack with Decker long enough, it takes quite an amount to actually impress the Ahroun)
(lars)
*Lars is strong in his own right, but feels no need to impress his strength on another. His grip is firm but not crushing.
And at the offered hand he shakes Sputnik's hand as well.*(yuli)
Her reponse to his cussing and aggravation? To finish off her cigarette before its snuffed out and she's left to pay attention to them even more. Lars gets the lookover and then dark eyes travel over Tristan and that 'sup nod results.
Its family afterall... and less ragey the better at the moment. She'd going to end up with an ulcer or an aneurism by 30 at this rate.
"What he say."
In response to Sputnik's offered greeting as she looks between the two newcomers she'd not noticed in the midst of brief russian spat.(sput)
On the other hand, the Russian bear of man, that is Sputnik. Sometimes doesn't know his own strength. (Still towering over some people at 6'4...) His grip is firm, strong, power and strength tossed behind it. Almost unexpected for one of his auspice. "Pleasure in meet."(tristan)
Rage. Clash of the Titans. Something like that. We got Jamey boy here, whom he’s well used too, the Ice princess that he’s trying to avoid, Sputnik, and lars. The kins a bit overwelmed, skin crawling, muscles twitching, but, well, he don’t back away at all. In fact, seems he doesn’t mind it –too- much. But he remains quiet for now after the snorted smirk after being dismissed by Katya.(lars)
"The honor is mine." *He says to sputnik, and then turns to James.*
"hmm, James... you don't happen to know Decker do you?"(katya)
It was all she could do to keep the smirk from coming to the fore with the way each of the males seemed to measure their grips with one another. Her own diminutive strength hadn't even attempted such a thing. Ice grey eyes regard Lars neutrally as she inquires about the (in)famous Get Fostern.Slim arms fold, as the 5'6" frame of the dark-haired beauty becomes a shadow, perhaps unnoticed, in the newer conversation.
(james)
the Ahroun looks rather amused at this point
he may be the PR guy for the pack
but damn if the Modi isn't the one making all the (lasting...) impressions"Yeh, better'n's healthy."
since everybody else is standing
James keeps his seat on the bench
(relaxed, in the face of such a gathering of beasts)
Cochran II's that desperately need a shine planted on the ground a space apart
elbows hooked in lazy sprawl on the top of the backrest
dark brown eyes still on the young Fenrir framed by not-so-dark dreads"Broth'rs 'n arms, so t' speak."
(sputnik)
A ragged sigh rumbles from the bear, moving to drop down upon the concrete once again. Comfort seeped up through his tattered jeans. He listens, silent, mostly to the conversation. Observant, for the most part. A hand stretches out to brush fingers along Yuliya's calf. "Smoke?"(lars)
*Lars nods his head*
"I thought I recognized your name from my talk with him."
*The man/youth says things in a very straightforward manner, wasting little effort even in speaking.*(tristan)
oh yeah, smoke. Final drag is salvaged off the all but forgotten cigarette, dropped and ground to death before he climbs over the back of the bench James has claimed, nudging one of his elbows off the backrest, replacing it with his ass, feet planted on the bench, violin resting in it’s case between James’s hip and his own foot. Elbows rest on knees, and still he remains quiet, the easy grin in response to Decker’s recognition by just about everyone. Boy gets around, that’s for sure. Not always in a good way either.(yuli)
She followed Sputnik's movement and the cigarettes pulled form her leather jacket... that thing looked heavy and followed it with her lighter. She was almost always good for a smoke on any given night. The items handed over to the hulking mass of russian male and her attention shifts between him and the rest. Voice coming in Russian again because it was just easier.
"I need a shower and a drink. where are you and Una at, or do you want to invade my place?"
She was the one who had established a haunt and had the cashflow most of the time anyways. She had fun toys too... her job did well.(sputnik)
Cancer stick with a grunt, lighter flicked alive to bring flame to end, before lifting a hand to offer it back to her. He takes a few deep puffs, cigarette never leaves his mouth as smoke expells from his nostrils. "Una and I at cheap ass motel. She has the van. I come with you back to your place." His words, flowing smooth in Russian, moving to stand up once more. He takes the cigarette from his mouth, attempting not to singe the hairs of his beard. "You have vodka, Yuliya?"(james)
once again, that chin drops in a nod towards his chest
unlike Lars, James has a certain flourish with words
it comes with the territory of being a street performer
lately, though, with that battlescar slurring his speech
his eloquence with speech has been hindered
not that any gathered save Tristan would know"Yeh, 'e made a mention a you a time'r two."
there's enough breath in him to continue the phrase
and perhaps he has intention to
but the way the smile spreads warmly over his features
seems now is not the time or place(yuli)
Waved off the offer of her pack back to her. She had more back at her pad anyways and the way he smoked them it'd be easier to let him have it. Listening to him as she glanced around the small gathering and gives a silent nod.
That must be goodbye in her own little lingo.
Then eyes go back to Sputnik, still in Russian.
"Vodka and some other things. You can call Una from there and give her directions if you want. I just want to shower the stench of a stupid thug off me."
Her less then nice way of saying lets go.
(sputnik)
He grunts at Yuliya, raising thick brows at her. "Best be dead man. Or I make dead man when found." the words growled out in his broken English. The cigarette pack slipped away into a safe pocket inside his jacket. He turns around to face the others. A large hand thrusted outward towards James, nodding his head.
"American brother, James, we meet 'gain. On less busy street. Shoot shit over vodka, da?" he nods his head back towards Yuliya. "Bitch demand Sputnik presence. I go."(lars)
*He grins through the scar on his face, and nods his head*
"Another time perhaps. I too should be heading out."(yuli)
A smirk and roll of dark eyes. Yeah thats nothing new from him and she shifts some body in motion to prepare for the walk to her car. The new ride was rather nice.
"Stone cold Misha."
As if anyone who messed with her would be anything else. Giving James and Tristan more of a smile then most get. Its a bone gnawer thing or something.
"Yah yah... I make demand. So much demand."
Its almost amused as she turns for the dirdction opf her car. That trace smirk still there though.(james)
the departing two get a belated nod up
attention snapping to the side at the offered hand
soon clasped firmly in his own"Pleas're, Sputnik.... y'know where'n how t'fin' me."
note he makes no comment about bitch calling and big dog going
he'd rather not have Tristan falling off the bench in peals of wild laughter
absolutely NO way he'd be able to explain it
plus he'd rather not risk Yuli's wrath quite yet
they did, after all, just meet
thus, he offers a smile instead
(Bone Gnawer thang, that's right)
which next turns to Lars"Yeh... 'm sure we'll meet 'gain, Lar'."
(sputnik)
(*LMAO@James*)
Big hand pulled back, seeking the warmth of his coat pockets. He looks off towards Katya with a nod. "Good Night, Princess. Meet 'gain." he calls to her, moving off to quickly catch up with his kin in a few long strides, walking with her.(tristan)
No comment made, and it’s a damn good thing, because the kin is already grinding his teeth together, smile tugging at his lips attempting to pull them into full on grin followed by laughter. But he nods to them all as they depart. “Later.” Managed before he clears his throat and does NOT look at his friend less what’s dancing in his gaze find someway past the barrier of his lips.(katya)
And as is a measure of her auspice, she did become quiet, and unobtrusive enough to be ignored. A glance and nod was given to the departing Gnawers. Regal, and slight all at once.The undefined 'Lars' departure was also noted, before ice grey eyes wash over the remaining.
"You were speaking of claim, James?" one high-arch tilt brow raised.
Eyes turn to nod slightly at her new title, Princess. She got the feeling that would stick.
(james)
somehow, he knows that Tristan is about to hurt himself in restraint
somehow, he does not need to see the dancing gaze to know what isn't exactly said
James indulges in a slow stretch
that, since the kin is right at his elbow, serves to knock the poor boy backwards off the benchsending him falling and sending him sprawling are two completely different things!
quick reflexes wrap a fist in the baggy shoulder of the pretty-boy's coat
and catches him before he sprawls onto the ground
barely leveraging against his own weight to keep the boy fairly upright
Katya, however, is treated with that same, easy grin
rather unrepetant, considering what he just did"Yeh.... talkin' grounds 'r..." Tristan given one final shake to make sure he's upright and stable "... kin?"
(tristan)
Slow stretch.... the curls are still hiding the face that’s properly ducked but he sees that hand coming and there’s a bark of startled laughter as he’s knocked backwards off his perch, hands grasping (flailing!) for that offending arm even as reflexes save him the less then dignified sprawl on the ground.He’s leveraged, and belly crunches to help keep him teetering in that fairly upright position, even as he’s shaken and stablized. He doesn’t even try to hold back the laughing mutter. “Oh you’re gonna pay for that one, boy...” He even manages a convincing growl, even if it’s lost in the laughter that quickly follows and is swallowed down to a rather amused grin..
Claimed. Whee! What will the neighbors think?
Fingers run through curls, smoothing them over until the slide back into complete disarray. Oh well, it’s part of his charm.
(katya)
Her outward look was neutral regarding the odd, boisterous display. Not even blinking. "Here, then?" her look around the park area was accompanied by a casual gesture with her slim hand."I do not think any have claime this as territory, for either packmates or kin," very traditional to note the difference.
(james)
he didn't exactly expect a reaction from the icy Lord
she simply didn't seem the type
that didn't stop his (lopsided) smile, though
but a lean towards serious softens it on his features
even if a smirk is tossed at the pretty-boy's threats"Good..... dun' wan' a impose'n not know it." the glance to the surrounding area either habitual at her casual gesture, or reinforcing it "New'n town 'n all. Any oth'r 'dvice?"
(tristan)
His grin is unrepentant in the face of that smirk, but he can be a good boy. Honest. He quiets down, and listens to the conversation.(katya)
Slim arms slide from their folded posture. Stance shifts as fingers lightly smooth her skirt over her thighs, before slowly drawing the purse more securely over her shoulder.Thoughtful. Then decisive, "No. None that your packmate does not already know," the last was accompanied by the slavic shrug of her homeland. "I am sure you are aware of the .. uniqueness of this city?"
(james)
faced with such a pretty picture
most men would probably be allowing their gaze to wander
most predators would probably be following the directions given by her movements
following the way hands smooth skirt over shapely thighs and slender calves
watching how the purse straps sets itself against the curve that shows through the thick winter coat
studying the way the wind tosses dark hair to play across pale skin defining her featuresJames?
pays attention to one feature
and by the time her eyes raise to his once more after her adjusting
deep umber is right there waiting
whatever reason he has for (seemingly) pointedly ignoring the fact that Katya's female written in some sad shadow deep within the orbs colored by Gaia's deep, most earth"To a degree." instead of a nod, now, his head shakes "'preciate if you'd expan' on it."
(tristan)
The fact that Katya is female isn’t lost on him either, but where James has reasons of sad shadow that allow him to ignore it with ease, Tristan just doesn’t care. All the preening in the world doesn’t melt the Ice Queen. Nope. Specially when it’s clear she thinks of him as –just- kin. Times like this he really does appreciate James and the fact that he’s family.Doesn’t say anything outloud, just digs the pack out of his pocket, lights a cigarette, offers pack and lighter to James. Listens.
(jim larson)
Jim wanders through the park smoking a bent cigarette his left arm resting on his Duffle bag. his hair was long shaggy and matted and his beard was scraggly and coarse. His clothes were torn and stained. he was wearing a thick warm coat and that was the nicest peice of clothing he wore and even that was ratty and frayed around the edges. He strolled past a park bench and recognized tristan and Katya, he approaches and flicks the butt of the cigarett down on the sidewalk and crushed it out with his toe.
He looks up exhaling his last puff of smoke and nods "'Sup"(katya)
"Of course," a slow shrug. It was common actually. Most male Garou were self-consciously aware of their own steps they take so diligently to remain focused upon her eyes. They tend to think it will make her feel more respected.. treated as a person.. or show some sort of restraint, or diligence on their own part.But it was a gesture brought on by fear. Fear they would project some sort of lapse of control due to the traits they pointedly (overly?) ignore. Fear they will be seen as a charach
Fear that can be exploited, in other ways.
"If you could tell me what you do know," a slight nod accompanied her gesture, "I can add."
Or maybe, like every other person in this war, he had lost someone close, and was grieving. The War goes on. Everyone has lost, and will lose.
(james)
he doesn't hold her eyes out of fear
common knowledge to stare a dog in the face is challenge
he didn't bow or scrape or think of some appelation in reference
could probably care less that she was Garou or what Tribe she claimed
it doesn't even have anything to do with Rank
the Ahroun has a habit of looking at whomever he's talking to regardless
it's a measure of being polite and some notion of respect
hold the dark gaze long enough, and it's clear that James has lost.... and lost recently
and something of that loss is devastatingly incomplete(she reminds him of someone....)
The War goes on
someday, someone will lose him
it is a weight they bear
and the measure of their strength is surviving it for as long as they canwhatever response his breath was going to support is exhaled unused as the newcomer arrives
dark eyes framed by dreadlocks tick to the side in ascertation"Evenin'...."
(tristan)
He looks up as Jim joins the group and that easy grin slides into view once again. “Evening, Jim. How’s it goin...” it’s the grin for family, as he rests elbows on his knees, cigarette dangling between them from his fingertips. “you know Katya here... this here’s James.” Gesture back toward Jim then, negligent flick of fingers to complete introductions. “Jim. He helped Deck, Madoc and me clean up the warehouse.”(katya)
"Jim," she stated, giving more weight to his name than the one syllable would seem to be due. The overemphasis makes the name seem all the more small.. less significant, somehow. Her slim fingers interlace idly, as the Kin does the introductions. How apropos for the more servile caste to do such. Eyes move from James to Jim as the two Ahroun greet.(jim)
Jim nods to James with a grin "Nice ta meetcha." he offers him his hand and nodded to tristan "How's that setup working?" He barely spared a glance for katya's uttered sylable. if she wanted him to fall down impressed she had the wrong gnawer.(james)
the hand is taken into a strong shake
accompanied by a smile that's a lot warmer than Katya's reception"Pleas're. Doin' fine withit..... my thanks f'r yeh help."
(tristan)
He laughs and shugs. “Have to take James word for it – haven’t checked back in yet. Been busy playing for my supper.” That grin though. Something in it suggests that Katya’s posture doesn’t get to him either. Least the all the other high bred women he knew as part of the eagles had fucking manners AND a sense of humor – oh! and class too! Something severely lacking in those he’s met so far here in Chicago.(katya)
He was a gnawer. His fall would not be far, in Katya's eyes. Though, she did note the rather growing population of the omega tribe. But, that was always the way. Peasants ever outnumber the nobles. A slim hand idly brushes back locks of dark hair, grown unruly in the evening breeze.(jim)
Jim shrugs "Never hurts ta help out family." He looks to tristan "If yeh ever need some food if i ken i'll split my meal with yeh, if james here don' mind. I ken always spare some for those who have less."(james)
"Nev'r mine a helpin' han'.... keeps the mojo nice'n clean."it's offered with a lopsided smile
soon followed by a matching tilt of his head
just before the lanky Gnawer stretches to stand
patchwork quilt of a coat hangs and dangles just about his ankles
dreadlocks tumble in jungle-vine ropes to mid-back
tips swaying with the movement and night's breeze"Dun mean a be rude." there's that trademark easy grin again "... but duty call."
he's sure they'll understand
chin jerks in nod-up
and the raggedyman moves to head south on the pathway(tristan)
Now that is the epitome of class. You’ve got those drowning, and then you’ve got the Omega’s who are always willing to share what they have, give up what they’ve got, make sure that everyone is taken care of before they are.That is the way it should be – the way Momma Grace raised him to be. He may only be kin, and only Gnawer kin at that, but he knows the basics of human – and garou – kindnesses.
“Much appreciated, Jim. I’m doing all right for now. Not too sure when it’ll get good and cold again, s’when the playing doesn’t pay as much as it does the rest of the year. So far so good, and the offer goes both ways.”
Others need, the hoods provide.
James stands, and Tristan nods with an easy grin. “I’ll be by the warehouse tomorrow morning to help.” Knows there’s a lot to be done still before it’s Liveable for the Get. Everyone was a bit spoiled by the digs in Newark, but with James and Tris working on it, they’ll be living comfortably again soon enough.
(katya)
And somehow Katya escapes giving information freely, for no gain of her own. Funny that."I do hope you two will forgive me as well," her slavic tone rolled forth to the pair of Gnawers, as she nodded in return and secured her purse more easily upon her shoulder, "The hour grows late. Good evening," the barest of smiles crossed her full, soft lips, before she turned and moved away with a graceful stride of eye-catching (yes even the peasants who hate the princess) feminine stride.
(jim)
Posted by james at November 21, 2003 12:00 AM
Jim nods "yer forgiven" He waits until she is out of earshot then out of sight and a few minutes later and mutters to tristan in a gruff quiet voice as he sits "Fer bein one stuffy sanctimonious bitch." he looks up at tristan "So how're yeh gettin along?"
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