February 04, 2004.02.04.04. - thought you dun' get col'..? [decker-tucker-tristan-hyde][riverfront]
(james)
".....f'ck'r."one well-placed shoulder
one leveraging shove of weight
one Gnawer all but falling into the warehouseit must have been the growl cuss that spoke the magic word
lock on the heavy door finally giving way
the seal of ice cracking as hinges squeal open
offering him some vestige of salvation from the freezing weather outside(decker)
Inside the warehouse it's dark and damp and dim and FUCKING FREEZING.Take that for alliteration.
Decker: in his antisocial corner, on his mattress, in his jacket, in his bedroll, an icicle with storm-grey eyes. Kinda turtles up out of the blanket-pile as James falls in in a semicircle of chipped ice - "Hell tookya so long?"
The pile of lopsided pancakes are ...ice-strewn.
(tucker)
Hair toussled as he wakes from his wakes up in boxers and a guido style wife beater with only his rage to keep him warm. Standing off the bed roll he walks through the warehouse picking up a pair of jeans and neglecting for the moment to likewise throw on a shirt. A head not to his pack mates all the way around.(james)
..... svcratch that on the salvationdeep umber eyes glance around
brow lifting at the breath fogging before him
shiver bolting down his spine thanks to the block of concrete ice serving as floor"Thought you dun' get col'."
smirked as the raggedyman picks himself up off the floor
pack slung to skid and slip and slide towards the scattering of sleeping rolls
(take that)
half-burnt candle picked up from it's hiding place by the wall
Zippo flicked to light itguess he was gone longer than he thought
(decker)
Fuckin Yankees who were used to this god-forsaken weather. Fuck. Decker's glower is poisonous as a pit of scorpions. For who? Everyone. Tucker first. Then James.Full moon in the sky. Or close enough.
The Modi coming out of his rags and wrappings: you think of dragons of old reborn out of scandinavian snow. Reptile-slow, reptile-smooth, reptile-steady, wifebeater and jeans, muscle and bone, tattoos and not-so-tanned-anymore skin comes out of a sea of coverings. He leaves a small perimeter of discarded blankets and jackets around him, one last piece (jeans? scarf?) trailing off one foot that he kicks, impatiently and thoughtlessly, aside.
A candle lit on a wall - that's all it took? Decker comes up beside his packmate to examine the flame through narrowed eyes, the two Ahroun matched for size and totem, and very little else. Rangy and dreadlocked to corded and almost-shaven; umber and earth to lightning and storm.
Sniff. Wipe nose on back of wrist as he takes a careless step back, heads to grab up his sweatshirt. "Teach me that sometime."
(tucker)
Tucker grabs his own hoodie and pulls it over his head. going to his small mirror to tame his hair. Going over to his duffel bag, he pulls from it a brown paper bag, then pulls from that a .45 caliber death machine. He click in the clip and the safety on sticking it in the front of his jeans. And pulls the sweatshirt over it."Anyone wanna do chinatown patrol with me tongiht?"
(tristan)
Enter the pretty boy. Told you he wouldn’t make Decker survive on anemic pancakes for a week because he lost a bet. Honest. Keys pulled from pockets, juggled around take out bag and violin case, unlock the door to the warehouse and in he comes, shutting and locking the door behind him out of habit, before he even looks around to see who’s here, long strides taking him to the island of domesticity.(james)
most would shrivel and die within the glower's poisonous aim
James just meets it with a lopsided half-smirkit's more than just the candle
Decker's allowed to inspext it all he wants
then the Gnawer cups it bong-style in his hands and huffs out the flame
places the candle back in it's spot by the perimeter
and only then does the temperature seem to change
marginally at best
it will take some time to return the warehouse to it's tropiczone normality"Tell me wh'n yeh wanna pay 'ttention." focus shifts to the Fang "S'up in Chinatown?"
(decker)
A faint pop of his knuckles, a not-so-faint frown at the gun. Wtf. His claws and teeth weren't enough?"Chinatown ain't our turf 'n ain't our concern," contradicts the Modi. Like a granite wall. "'S tha Quick's."
(tristan)
Decker, Tucker, James. Well – seems Tucker survived his night with Chloe, a thought that brings a grin to his lips as he sets the bag’o’take’out on the coffee table. “Grubs on.” Serves as hello, as violin case is set on the makeshift counter, and starts to unbutton his coat, before thinking twice and waiting until it warms up a bit more. Damn glad that the Garage is heated. And has a good looking boy to curl up next too at night.(tucker)
"And I took the kneecaps out of two dealers that were attracting banes last night alone. Seems they aren't doing their job." He waits for the Modi to budge on the subject, he doesn't. The Fostern's eyeballing of the Colt doesn't go unnoticed either. "Got it from the gnawer.... Protect the veil...??"Full Moon. Rage. Short fuse. "Fuck this, i'm goin' for a walk, can follow if ya want, but I gotta get out of this fucking ice box."
(decker)
No, the Modi doesn't budge. He doesn't even say a word. He simply drops his hand from his coat zipper and turns fully to face Tucker.There's a thunderstorm in the distance between and the lightning core is in his eyes.
When the subject passes he gives Tucker's invitation a brief consideration. Shrug. Why not. Someone's gotta keep the fucker outta trouble. Grab his outer jacket, too. Grabs a burger on his way past the table. Muttered, "Let's go."
(james)
the Gnawer doesn't quite remove his coat yet
patchwork and faded and all the protection he has from the cold
it's one of those nights even Rage doesn't help much
no matter how full the moon is in the sky
tattered tails swirl around his ankles on the way to the cofeetable
right now the departing Fang gets little more than a glance
here's hoping a burger does something to help change the temperature
though he's not against setting something on fire inside an empty metal barrel(tristan)
Nod up to Decker who didn’t even look at him or offer a............... ooooooooooooh fuck it’s close to full moon time again, isn’t it. Bloody fucking wonderful. Everyone in the room suffering from their time of the month. The press of rage is obvious the glowers are noticed – even when not directed at him, and the pretty boy? Just goes about doing what he does on a nightly basis. Clean up after Decker.
Tucker doesn’t get more then a glance... it’s James who captures his attention, of course. Gaze slips over him just in that quick making sure he’s all right kind of way... but he’s content to be just as content to say nothing at all.
(tucker)
The Fang grabs a burger, unwrapping and walking past tristan with a mouthfull of thanks. By the time he gets fully outside the burger's almost gone.The cold air hits hits face almost refreshingly, but doing refreshingly little to soothe the itch of rage that was demanding a satisfactory scratch.
"S'one of those nights, Decker. Where ny all rights sombody oughtta lock yer ass up but you just wanna run"
(decker)
You almost kind of expect his lips to make some small quirk toward a smirk, if not ever a smile. You almost kind of expect a small grunt of amusement. There's neither. His mouth is a hard line that could sneer any second. His silence is endless.Until: "'R kill."
One and then the other, two Ahrouns hit the pavement and start to walk. Prowling the turf. This is ours and we don't share.
(tucker)
"Sounds like a plan." Deadpan, or more likely just serious.Hit the pavement they do, a tsunami of Rage follows and precludes them, Gaia's curse never more evident than this time of month. Not even a not to the Godi as he falls in with them. He's more interested in the three figures up ahead. He sniffs the air, "S'yer mate and... what the fuuu..."
(decker)
And three:One Godi from one direction, rounding the corner of the street. Two Ahrouns from the other, coming out of warehouse doors to meet up somewhere on the sidewalk. Three Eagles on the concrete, beneath the almost-full moon.
No nod here either; but then, he didn't need to nod. They were tribemates and packmates. Such things, superfluous. Grey eyes scan ahead, pick out the flame-red. Feel his blood boil, his rage spike. A beat later he glances at Miriam, hardly recognizing. Only saw the girl about twice, anyway, and always from afar.
"Miriam," Decker supplies, a low word that's more a reminder to himself than an answer to Tucker's sentence. Guess she's home from school now.
(hyde)
*falling effortlessly into step with him he scents the air a bit. Shakes his head and mutters out a laymentation* Fucking women... I sware... UGG... * coming out more like a growl*{and end scene due to uncooperative finger bleeding all over the place]
Posted by james at February 04, 2004 12:00 AM
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