November 25, 2003.11.25.03. - faith [tristan][riverfront]
(tristan)
At some point, after all the beer and well over half the whiskey, he proved his inability to hold his liquor, by barely making it to the mattress he had pulled over into James’ little corner of the warehouse. He somehow managed to kick his boots off, peel off the tank top (The sweater lost somewhere somewhen earlier in the evening) and pull a sheet over himself.Now, we find him sprawled, still, on his belly, the sheet draped haphazardly over lean frame. His arms are tucked under his head, tangled in the sweater that ended up used as a pillow, curls in tangled disarray, over his eyes, those along his jaw shifting slightly with every breath. There’s a bandage on the right side, above the lower ribs, though it doesn’t quite cover the wound (not an easy place to manage to dress yourself, and all) and the bruising is purplish-yellow surrounding it from the rather... vigorous... expulsion of the bullet at Decker’s hand. It’s healing well, but is at the stage where it looks horrid and much worse then it really feels before starting to look better again.
Otherwise, he’s the same kin we all know and love – pretty, relaxed, having been sufficiently liquored up into a dreamless serene sleep.
(james)
James had successfully ignored whatever state the two kin had drunk themselves into - he slept a Warrior's sleep, which was near instant and uninterrupted by anything but panic in the voices which floated to wash up against his subconscious mind like waves from a low-tide sea. Since there was no panic of any registering volume during the course of events, it's safe to say the Ahroun slept fitfully all the way through until morning.that's when a bag of fast food plops onto the ground between the mattresses
accompanied by a large, steaming, coffee
two, actually, of three total, in the carry-out container
he had gotten enough for Lexi, too
but somewhere during his trip she woke and disappeared
so the excess of food should suffice and, in fact, supercede, any alarm clock on this earthmeanwhile, behind the quiet thesad of Bone Gnawer strategy.....
the trench shrugs off
landing beside his mattress just before the sweater and (sniiiiiiff) wifebeater, too
(it is definitely coming up on laundry day for the pack)
landing on his mattress is one Ahroun
deeply ashed scars leaning up against the Alice pack which serves as headboard
another of the books "borrowed" from Chicago's library opening across his lap
helluva lot easier to read now that the black eye is little more than a dark shadow
and the split across his cheek no longer showcases bone beneath(tristan)
Ohhhhhh.... the Gnawer equivalent of an alarm clock. It doesn’t take long before there’s a deeper inhale, slight stretch, that hitches and halts a moment as lungs expand and muscles accommidate the movement, before it’s exhaled and fingers curl under the sweater, knee bends slowly, and the kin begins the motions of returning from the dreamless land he’d escaped too......cooooooofffffeeeeeee.....
lashes part, and there’s a wince, even though the light is far from bright, and a hand manages to untangle itself from thick sweater and push the curls away from his eyes. He squints and focuses, and then the other scents filter through and a lazy, still hazy grin flits over lips. Voice low, gravelly, murmurs. “Mmmmmm, you’re too good to me...” as gaze finally settles, and focuses on his friend nearby, even as he’s pushing up to rest his weight on elbows, then slowly pulling his legs up and rolling up to sit. Head hangs a moment, grin sheepish as he rubs his eyes. “Woman tried to kill me last night...” muttered, good-naturedly as he reaches for the closest cup of coffee.
(james)
"I know."perfectly flat as some of his answers before
dark eyes don't even pull away from the book's page
there's barely any pause from his read save the tilt of his own cup to lips"Y'allrigh'?"
good guess he's not referring to the hangover
(tristan)
He pops the top and lets the steam wash over his face as he inhales the scent, before taking a sip of the barely cooled coffee with an appreciative sigh. He looks up at James and studies him for a moment at the flatness of the comment, sliding his hand through tangled curls before running his hand over his face, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes only to rest his gaze on James once more.A moment, another sip, then with a nod. “Yeah, m’fine... question is – are you?”
(james)
the Ahroun is silent for a few moments
studying the finer points of indoor plumbing as outlined by Time Life
there's a new water heater sitting just inside the main cargo door
and he's jonesing for a hot shower
but at the end of the page, his eyes just stop moving
or maybe drift to a place where there are no words or diagrams"Yeh. Jus...... on top a th' maneat'r thing..... way she phrase thing got t'me."
(tristan)
feet cross and pull up closer as he leans for the bag and digs inside for the first bit of fast food that he comes in contact with, unwrapping and taking a bite or two as he tries to shift through which her he’d meant. Finally, a stab in the dark and finally just asking... “Imogen....or? And what in particularly...” Has an idea what, but well – better to ask and be sure, then to stick his foot in his mouth.More awake now, dull thudding at the back of his head ignored for the more immediate worry sitting across from him, and of course, breakfast. Could use a shower himself, probably, and will be more then willing to help with the plumbing job that looks to be in the near future from the book being read...or more... stared at.
(james)
"Huh?" a moment of confusion pulls his eyes towards the kinsman "Oh..... nuh. Im'gen will alway be th' mos' aggr'vatin' woman a Hood c'n ev'r run 'cross. Meant Lexi." shoulders roll press back against the rough canvas of the pack in what may be a shrug, shadows playing on the brand of raised skin on his chest. "Remin' me ain't seen Luc since a night I broke Eva's arm." ... and he nearly killed me ..."Rune gone six month." .... and I may have already lost a second mate .... "D'nno where Tuck 'r Kemp are anymore."(tristan)
There’s a slight chuckle in acknowledgement of the first, and then he just listens. And watches. The way the shadows play over him in that roll of shoulders, the way it highlights the brand along his chest, and how much darker the shadows in his friend’s eyes are. He finishes the sandwich in hand, downs a bit more coffee, then sets it aside before he rubs his hands on his jeans, and then with s shift of weight rolls enough to his feet to turn and settle – uninvited, but well, that don’t matter – on the mattress next to the Gnawer.He’s always been a creature of touch. For comfort, for contentment, for happy, for sad, for any emotion there’s a touch that mirrors what sometimes can’t be said. For now, he stretches out next to him on his back, propping his head on bent arm next to the below the pack turned headboard, placing his head around the level of James’ hip. Dark eyes look up from under long lashes, and free hand nudges against his friends thigh. Just an – I’m here. I know. I understand.
And I heard all of what you didn’t say.
There’s a slow inhale, (slight adjust, better position on the back, relax) then an even softer admittance. “I know there’s not a damn thing I can say to make it better, either. Though I want too. I want to say it ain’t your fault” Luc. “that she’s ok” Rune “that they weren’t ready to be pack after all.” Tuck and Kemp, And though we worry, we can’t do a damn thing about it. “But in truth – th’hell do I know? I can’t even duck right.” Slight grin, but it fades a bit. He’s got shadows of his own, as well. He’s been getting drunk more often then not before bed ever since they got to town.
(james)
"Course not." mockingly chuffed "'n she c'n take care've herse'f." appropriately interjected "'n they their own dest'nies."they're both creatures of touch
physical affection between Gnawers is not an uncommon thing
it's the modern adaptation of the primal instinct which subconsciously drives them
therefore, there is no outward reaction to the company save scooting to make a more comfortable space
Tristan, after all, is the one with a bullet wound, not James
there's a brow-raising glance at the latter comment
specifically, the brow above the fading bruise and healing split
but instead of looking away
the deep umber gaze holds"Though we agree t'leave'r sorrows in Jersey."
the book closes, slowly
to each their own distraction(tristan)
His hand still slides over the side of James’ thigh, idle contact, connection, as he nods to all the appropriate interjections. He doesn’t look away from that gaze as it’s held, though many would. He knows of all the Garou he knows, James sees him as close to equal as possible without his having rage to back it up. The slight grin slides even further towards wry. “Yeah. Thought we did.” Brow cocks over dark gaze, before he just shakes his head, slightly, and sighs, breaking eye contact for just a moment. Two. “Guess they up and decided to follow me.” Us.He doesn’t look back up, some space in the distant corner of the warehouse instead gathers his idle attention, before softly admitted. “I miss him. And I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Though it goes for both of ‘him’ that were lost in Jersey. Diego, whom he’s finally given up for dead, and the mourning continues on some deep level, for Connar, who must surely think he hates him for leaving without a goodbye – when gaia knows he was falling fast and hard for the King who chose to slum with the pauper.
(james)
"Ev'r thought 'bout goin' back.... say goodbye?" the Garou's voice is strikingly soft in it's suggestion "Was only way I cou' say it t' Jenna."(tristan)
He sighs, softly. “More often then I want to admit... I said goodbye to Diego when I locked up the apartments, and made arrangements to have his things put into storage if he didn’t return. I left a letter that I know will never be read, and I cried more then I ever want too again while I wrote it. And then there’s him...”There’s a moment’s pause, and he finally lifts his gaze to meet James’ again. “But I made my choice....” the way it trails off though, suggests that there’s more to follow, even as he tries to form the words.... “part of me is too afraid... that if I go back, and if he asked me to stay, I would. Which...” hand lifts to cover his eyes a moment, before pushing curls back with a growl of frustration... and in an explosion of confused breath... “is just stupid because I don’t even know his name... Here...” hand falls again to rest on James’ thigh. “...this is where I should be. Can’t leave you to face the Get all alone and all. Know you functioned just fine without me but Family is family and I want to be here. I want to be the one you can talk to, confide in, all of that shit.”
His grin appears, fades a little, but remains. “Jim called it, you know. Right off. Said he could feel the connection in just talking. It’s the –jump on a grenade without a second though, even knowing you’d ressurrect me just to kick my ass for being stupid in doing so – connection. family. So no.. I can’t go back.. because if I do, I’m afraid I’ll find him.... I’m afraid that I’ll loose all sense and not be here when you next need me too, or when I need to be here with you... that I’ll get so lost in all he makes me feel that I forget that I’ve got family who cares about me.” Who needs me still.
And worse... barely murmured “and I’m afraid that I’ll find out he’s not what I want him so much to be, that the reality is something different and that I will have made a mistake. When I know that being here with you and the pack is right.”
(james)
"It ain't..... easy.... lettin' go."it's only offered after a long silence between them
filled only with the hum of the generator a few yards away
the crackle and buzz of emergency lights
distant sounds of the city's ever-present white noise
the all but nothing sound of fingers picking through curls
stretching them elastically before allowing the fall back to Tristan's forhead"Took me two year a leggo a Jenna 'n the oth'rs. Wa'n't til some'n show me I had 'nother reas'n...... remin' me a my faith in what I born a do." there's a pause, in a low sigh "Remin me a my path 'n purpose... 'n that I dun make a mistake wi' what I chose. Sometime yeh move on. Those that're mean' a keep up wi'h yeh will."
doesn't mean he ever stopped missing them
that's easy enough to see in the Ahroun's dark eyes
no matter what inspires the playful warmth of smiling light in their depths
no matter how long that glimmer lasts
there will always be sorrows and regrets
choices made for things they never had the power to change
some battles in the War were never meant to be won
but for even the tiniest reason - they continue to struggle on"So'ta like nah."
momentarily, the familiar smile returns
a genuine expression that spreads, however lopsided, across his features
finally succeeding the climb to show in deep umber
and fingers ruffle fondly through curls
the creature's touch communicating what words themselves cannot
(he is not yet ready to let go of his hope that she will someday return)
something deeper than gratitude surfacing for a breaththen the book is placed on Tristan's chest
Posted by james at November 25, 2003 12:00 AM
and the Garou rises to retrieve the water heater from it's wait
no more cold showers for Eagle pack
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