March 10, 2004.03.10.04. - lost [decker-imogen-tucker-tristan-sasha-nahi][riverfront]
(decker)
He must do this just to piss her off.Wednesday evening and her neighbors are coming home, except not a single one of them take the front door. Why? Because there's a wolf at the door.
Not literally, no. But it damn well feels like it to everyone who passes that way. More than a few use the exact phrase in their mutterings. Where did he come from? Sitting there like a wolf at our door. He should go back where he belongs.
One Fenrir Modi sitting with his back to the automatic locking door under the awning. One pair baggy dark blue jeans, his inner-city hakama, under one worn grey sweatshirt zipped up to his chest. One layer of cotton shirt stretched across imposingly broad shoulders, thick chest. One pair battered skecher-knockoffs. One j--no, thank god, it's a cigarette.
One of James'. And no, the wolf at the door is not alone.
(james)
no, the wolf at the door is not alone
so what does it mean when a pack lays in wait
urban barbarians setting up camp just beyond the proverbial gates?
seeking some semi-substantial shelter beneath the awning
looking just as at ease as if they were outside their own cave instead of in the city's central lightunlike his packmate and counterpart
James does not do this to piss her off
in fact the very last thing he wants to do is piss. her. off.
he's already been at the recieving end of that action, thank you very much
and even if he hasn't felt the full brunt of it
he could very well live his life without and feel just dandy
he, instead, simply revels in the proximity of packshaved and shorn versus tangle of raggedy dreads
bundled and zipped up contrasted to a rather comfortable sprawl
patchwork trench dripping like artist's conglomeration of paint down the steps
smear of faded color melting around twin points of dull black bootshe didn't ask why Decker stole one of his smokes
but you can bet there's amusement shaping the smoke rings drifting towards the sky(imogen)
Doors push open. It's got something to do with fires and panic. When the world panics, the last thing you want is a mob pressing around you as you try to pull open the goddamned door.And so. Doors push open. And so. This door. Pushes open. Decker Rohl probably had some warning. The click of the inner handle, the kind that pushes in to disable the lock. Or even the sound of her hand pressing against the door, heard through the glass. Or more, the honed and animalistic feeling of something at his back, counteracted by the more pleasant air of her breeding. Even without that, it seems like it's her without looking. Out of the entire building, she is the only one who is (should be) able to walk up to the door and face the wolves.
She's dressed for work, coming from work, of course, her jacket some fine suede that cuts past her hips, the fall of her suit jacket, just slightly longer, visible along the edges, black slacks that are smooth and almost unwrinkled. The jacket is buttoned, but one can imagine a blouse beneath, and a pager at her hip. In one hand, she holds a brief case, and with the other, she holds the door.
"One of these days," it's a familiar threat, really, "someone's goin' t'call th' police," says the slender formed kinfolk, her gaze resting for a moment on the Modi, before shifting to James and including him in the comment.
That someone might do this to piss her off (and the knowledge thereof) might be precisely why she doesn't get pissed off.
Or perhaps she considers this better than loitering at door 907, scaring her more immediate neighbours, rather than the building as a whole.
(decker)
One's sprawled.The other's crouched, knees open, feet wide, wrists on kneecaps, watching the street through eyes accustomed to scanning the flat hazy horizon of the Gulf.
Door opens behind him and he doesn't need to move; he's on the steps, she's on the landing. Door's on the landing and they don't make it so that you have to stand on a step to get it open. Not here, one of these classy uptown places. Wonder where the guard went? That's one long coffee break.
He grunts, unimpressed by her threat, perhaps because it's not a threat at all, but a statement of fact. Now if she'd said one of these days I'm going to call the police, they'd have themselves a show.
But, no.
"Goin' to work?" He doesn't bother turning. Across the street there's a storefront, closed, dark, and in it he can vaguely see her reflection as an impression of slenderness, of glorious hair, of the familiar economical gesture of her hand pushing that hair back behind her ear. Slim elbow tucked in, ladylike: that aunt of hers, her teachings still carry through. Or maybe it's Imogen herself, and maybe it isn't so much a question of ladylike as it is a question of conservation. Conserving space, energy, time.
He blows smoke out and its fuzzes the image, then rips away in the wind.
(james)
the Modi probably had some warning
as did the other full moon
which is precisely what has him turning his headfocus of attention independant of the storefront reflection across the way
unmarred by flagrant winds and curtains of coiling smoke
instead greeting by the porchlight igniting a halo of fire around her skull
acid trail comet tails of embrous flame waxing poetic by pushing hand
swimming through the backwash of sulpherous aura sizzling down from the flood
ebb tide trickling lonely patterns down towards the deliberate tailoring of workshoes
(too bad you _don't_ have the good drugs on you, Jamey-boy)lopsided grin shot back to Imogen's comment from the frame of junglevine dreads
(imogen)
The door half closed with the gesture of her hand, the careless thoughtless pushing back of flame hued strands, catching the door with her foot before it can quite close completely. Small movements. Everything about Imogen is slight, from the delicate almost fragile seeming bones of her frame and height, to her motions, always useful, never wasted.Hair tucked away from her face again (temperary and one does not have to know her well to know this; her hair is chaos, despite her efforts to otherwise), she has a hand free for the door again.
"No," she says, "I'm comin' t'get yeh offa my front doorstep," that it's a thousand other people's front door steps is beside the point or perhaps exactly the point. "Unless yeh like the view?" she inquires to Decker's crouched back.
James is cast a smirk, brief and wry for his unrepentant grin.
(decker)
Decker makes an aspirated sound that touches, just skims on a chuckle. Cigarette caught against teeth by the tip of his tongue, he flicks a glance over his shoulder. Which makes it sound quick, fleeting, even shy - but it's not.Slow, steady, ground to crown and back again, and all the while half-turned so only the consummately germanic lines of his profile are visible over the rumpled hood and the line of his shoulder.
Tapping ash, smirking, "Do now."
Yeah, she set that one up.A pause. Cigarette caught between two fingers of one hand, he picks at the filter with the other. Then raises his head, squinting down the street though the sun's set already, and the long northern twilight is fading behind the buildings. "James'n I was passin' through."
(james)
"Look' like a comf'ble place a res' a bit'n soak up th' view."unrepetant grin cast a smirk and hooked with a unabashed comment
she set it up - they'll roll with it
the Gnawer may even have learned something in the year-plus interim of their acquaintance
for that line was delivered as deadpan dry as any she's ever given them
well of course he'll smile and nod and go along with it
just like they meant it all the time"Wash twiligh' fay 'n nigh' blank't th' lan' 'neath obsid'n waves." negligently teasing eyes strafe around the block, noting how empty it is in comparison to the horizon pinpointed by a cigarette scissored between two mostly gloved fingers "Neighb'rs'r missin' a hell'va show....."
(imogen)
A scoff, low in her throat at the line delivered by both, "Right," another woman might have rolled their eyes. Her gaze flicks to follow James's gaze toward the sky and horizon, the sunset in the west. Things poet's write about. It's also things poet's might use as a comparison for her hair, though it's not quite accurate. Nature does not often capture the colour of sunsets in other things. Nature does not often capture this particular shade and hue of her hair in other things."Hmm." Answer to James, but dulled and stripped of meaning, more an acknowledgement than anything, that yes she heard him. Or maybe yes, it's very nice in a way that meant she perhaps didn't really understand. What's magical about a sunset. Or a sunrise.
"Neighbours," she notes, "are takin' th'garage exit, mutterin' about things like hoodlums on th'front step, an' won't th'super do anythin' about it?
"So I suppose they would be missing it," smirk twists again, brief, and perhaps she grew tired of holding the door open, so instead she steps out and to the side allowing the door to start to swing shut, her hand reaching into an outer pocket of the brief case, finding the keys.
(decker)
Decker snorts. A frisson of annoyance rises and falls, breaks the surface of his (?)calm(?) like a razorbacked fish, flickering silverbright, and submerges again. "Yeah alright. Got tha fuckin' point."He throws the cigarette out into the street overhand, a snap of the wrist, crisp and taut. Then he stands up.
No pushing off. No steps to it. Just one motion, and his feet don't even move. Dusts off his ass and then scans the street. They're out of their turf here, but that didn't matter. Home of his mate was his land by a wolf's reckoning; though Imogen would never agree to that, and he doesn't even think of it that way, some part of him is instinctively comfortable here.
This land he owns and defends.
This woman he owns and defends....or something like that. We all have our pleasant fictions. "C'mon," he says to James. Then a glance at Imogen - "You too?"
(james)
Decker got the point
James got the point
Decker huffs a snort
James. just. smiiiiiles.there's something that's changed in the mellow guttermutt
it's happened in the course of the last... year... or so
perhaps months ago he would have been understanding to the neighbor's plight
a compensation decreed in his mind to their animal intrusion
now? he just notes they're missing the show by taking the garage escape routetoo bad. so sad. thank you, drive through.
gaze flicks, and he considers barking a response to the pesudo-command
(yes massah)
but instead weight heaves in a far less graceful amalgum of standing upright
it's a collection of hinges and ballasts to supplicate his frame's change of position
dregs of his coat swirling aftershock about Cochran ankles
tangle of hair rearranging itself in commentary to gravity's pull
slow and steady tattoo of soles down the cold steps
taking body from sprawl to lanky stretch(mighty Imogen of the resident people, only SHE in her greatness can cast away the ruffian scoundrels hunkering about our front steps..... bow down to her power you meek excuse for a super!)
deep umber eyes lay on the horizon
back momentarily turned to the mated pair
(they watch each other, he watches their backs)
butted smoke flicked to a puddle wandering down the gutter(imogen)
It wasn't exactly how she meant it, but Imogen is easily misunderstood. It's perhaps easier because she's not inclined to be offended by it. It's perhaps harder because she never bothers to correct misinterpretations unless she has no choice. She has a choice now.There's perhaps a moment, briefly as Decker's annoyance ripples and Imogen's gaze flicks his way as he stands, a silent appraisal that somewhere along the way, she'd learned to make illegible.
She shakes her head briefly at the offer, "I have some things t'do," she says with a slight lift of her shoulders, a shrug that is easy. "I'll see yeh both about." She pulls her keys free of her brief case, and they click together softly as she raises a hand in a vague gesture of farewell, stepping back toward the door.
(decker)
Just a nod up for her hand-raise of farewell. He pushes his own hands into his pockets, thumbs hooked on the rim. Watches her go back in through the door; watches her til the elevator doors close on her. Must be uncomfortable being on the receiving end of a stare that steady, that unwavering, that unabashed.What, staring is rude? Someone forgot to tell him.
Then a sniff. A hand lifts to rub at his nose. He didn't drive, he walked. So he starts walking again.
"The Quick think they kin find tha Caern," he says without much preamble. Business. "'S what the git-togetha's about. Fer them, 'least. We gotta tell 'em 'bout the Pyrells. 'N check what the Crows're up to with that warehouse shit." Pause, a glance sideways at his packmate, one of the oldest members of Eagle's group and likely the closest to him. "Where ya been?"
(james)
head turn, dark glance, chin life - Eagle version of farewell, it seems
and whatever paused moments they had surrounded in night's blanket and firey halos is gone
banished to the very darkness that consumes them like nothing more than razed smoke
back to business as usualfacts and figures click into the fullmoon's mind like clockwork
filed away with nothing more than a nod to signifiy their storage
(sounds like a plan, boss)
and the motions constructing the liberation of another Camel from the pack
the question gets a glance - then a shift of his eyes away
excused by the necessity of making sure he lights the smoke instead of his dreads"Los'."
nothing until the first exhale of bitter smoke, and to the ears of his packmate - quite possibly the single Garou that's known him longest in this life since leaving New York and the one that may even be able to understand him clearest - the answer sounds as much an explanation as question
strikingly, even James is unsure where he's been
(imogen)
And gone. It's impossible not to feel the weight of Decker's gaze. Something to do with rage or her own instinct, but it prickles the back of her neck and is almost tangible.She doesn't look back, however until she's inside the elevator, and turning back inevitable.
Doors close. She returns to whatever it is she might be doing.
(tristan)
Wednesday night, late, and the pretty boi is closing up shop. The remnants of music hangs crystalline on the air, then fades away as he talks with those who had stopped and listened, talked and donated to the ‘build the pretty boi’s a new house’ fund. Good natured laughter, teasing, and he connects with his regulars as he always has, which is why they continue to come and listen, and empty their pockets of change.A young girl, who should be home in bed, instead is stuck out with the harried mom finally making her way home from work – she’s been listening, wide-eyed, and almost buries herself behind mom’s skirts when Tristan crouches down to say hello. A few moment’s talk, and he nods, waving the girl closer and lifting the violin again. With a chuckle, he hands it over to the girl, explaining with infinite patience how to hold it, where to put her fingers, then helps her pull the bow across the strings. A bit of fumbling later, and she’s managed a pretty good mary had a little lamb.
He grins and takes the violin back, tucks one of the little girls curls back behind her ear, before standing to continue his talk with mom. Number exchanged, a shy smile from the girl, boyish grin and wink from the pretty boy, and he crouches behind his case again to start collecting the days earnings, tucking away his baby into safety once more.
(tucker)
Breathing is a chore at this point. A bad night indeed on the road to rehab. The big bad silver wolf huffs and puffs down the street, pausing when he turns a corner to see two familiar faces a block ahead coming towards him.Head down into the wind, he surges forward, waiting until he's caught up to offer, "Hey."
(decker)
Just quiet.Just walking. One foot in front of the other. His gait is markedly different from James' easy groundeating amble, tauter-looser at the same time, lower, a muscled and coiled stalk where the joints swing loose but the steps are cushioned and toned, balanced and aware.
Doesn't glance sideways this time. Awareness of pack makes such gestures unnecessary. Looks to the left as James looks to the right; looks ahead to see Tucker.
"Y'found now?" low, under the breath, before Tucker catches up.
And when the other does, he gets only a steely stare. Did he expect different?
(james)
Hope so.the answer is in the voice of the Bone Gnawer Decker once knew
soft-spoken and capable of some shiney pure joy
words that formed in the shadow of an easy, thoughtless smile
it echoes a lost memory in packmate minds
not the broken, gutteral slur that stumbles through their ears"Hey."
the Modi offers a steely stare
James, as PR man, takes a step further an introduces vocalizations to the encounter
even if the word is as welcoming as a brick wall
cutting past his teeth like guillotine's final plunge
blunt force trauma reflecting the raise of invisable hackles(is it personal, or is it simply Tucker's totemic disgrace....)
(kemp)
He'd find Tristan even if he were underwater. Mumbling to himself while searching out the Kinfolk. As long as Tris didn't have that Una, Uno, Ohno, god please not again, with him, then the world would be peachy keen for a little bit.(tristan)
Kemp would find him no matter where he is. It’s the mom thing, really – though some days, there’s no telling who is taking care of whom. At least the bandages are gone, the stitches are gone, he’s pretty much in tip top shape again.Which only means there’s some wyrmy foe waiting right around the corner to see just how pretty the Kinfolk’s skin turns when bruised and battered. Either that, or there’s the ex-mate in town, hoping he’s happy, yet equally hoping that something goes wrong and he can pick up the pieces. Or there’s pregnant kinfolk afraid to stay with the father of the baby. Or even better, someone reminding you of your place. Or there’s the fact their house is missing a back wall, and for two Gnawer kin with no money whatsoever, repairing is going slow and finding a new place must wait until then and when the other half of the pretty boi duo is not willing to stay at the pack house.....
Well.
Let’s just return to counting change, hm? Count he does, scooping it up into the little felt bag made specially for said coins, the bills counted and tucked into the pocket, before the case is closed, locked, and hefted as lean form stretches to stand again.
(tucker)
"How ya been?" Trying to ignore the harsh look from Deacker and the overtone in James' statement.His arms, visible by the pulled up sleeves on his hoodie, are covered in scratch marks, most breaking the skin. His hair however is newly cut and he's cleans shaven. He's shifting, foot to foot, antsy. The scrathing starts again over the cold sweat on his exposed skin.
(kemp)
At least the kid he had been with when he turned up, left with it's mother. Letting out a long relieved breath. A girl , god save me from women, girls, females, anything with plumbing different from mine. Just the very thought made him twitch. "Thought I'd find you around here somewhere." A look past Tristan, then back to him. "It's got a home, right?"(tristan)
“Same time same place, every night of the week. How else am I supposed to keep you fed.” Grinned as he reaches out to grab Kemp into a on armed hug before letting him go and mussing his hair fondly.There’s a blink, however, slight, as he turns to follow the direction of Kemp’s gaze, head tipped, then back to his boy as he pushes unruly curls away from his face again. “.....it?”
(decker)
Life makes monsters of us all.And Decker and James, different as they are, are still a unified front. When you're a part of the pack you don't realize it so obviously. You know it. You feel it in your bones, the connection. But it's subconscious, thoughtless.
For Tucker, it must be a shock to be stripped of that bond, and yet to see it between the two Garou before him. The way they stand unconsciously to protect one another's weak points. The way their differences seem to complement. The way their totem is echoed in the hard stares even beneath lazy lids; the way their bond is displayed in a shared vigilance.
The Modi says, flatly, "Cut tha crap, Tuck. Fuck you want?"
(kemp)
"That, that, that, It. Girl, female, It! Sour look on his face like he just took a drink of lemonaid after eating a dill pickle.(sasha delacroix)
Girls. Females. Lord someone save Kemp from the bane of Mankind... He probably didn't see the femme stalking up behind him. He might have smelled the sweet scent of honeysuckle flowers that clung to her skin, however, or feel her silver-blooded pedigree, but Sasha continues to sneak up behind him and toss an arm around his shoulders to glomp him in a hug."Evenin', mes amis!" she calls out with chuckle. Sweet voice rolling words off her tongue like honey, so hard to resist a beautiful face like hers.
(tristan)
He.... blinks. And then just laughs. “Oh god – please, kiddo. I don’t bring home every stray puppy. And yes, she’s got a home, and an interest in learning violin, and lesson’s pay much more then street corners, and I can use the cash. So yes - She has a home.”And then he’s chuckling with Sasha’s appearance, tossing her a wink. “Evening, Sasha. How’s tricks?”
(james)
deep umber eyes drop
it's not an act of submission
instead he's picked up the Modi's ability to look down at people
(odd, that, coming from a Bone Gnawer)
studying the damage on Tucker's arms
but for once in perhaps all the time the Fang has known him
when those eyes lift, for the injury there is absolutely. no. compassion.
(eagles' mighty wings CRACK unfurled with righteous fury)"Better'n you."
spoken from behind the Camel clenched between his teeth
the Modi's stare may be lazy, but James' is hungry for blood
(how long has he been a monster and none of them knew....)
perhaps the only thing holding him back is the very bond Tucker can no longer feel
remaining at the Modi's side instead of....(kemp)
Stiffening with the hug from behind. "Stop calling me messy miss." Grumbling, rounding his shoulders. "I ain't no sloppy girl." They were out to kill him, kill him slowly by driving him insane. Women, females, girls. Going to drive him completely over the edge. At this rate, he was going to be a gay monk in 2.3 seconds flat.(tucker)
"I just wanted ta talk, s'at so bad?" He's staring it his feet now, still scrathing slowly, moving quicker on his forearm at random intervals. Fingernails dragging skin along with them."Just because I'm some kind of fuck up doesn't mean..." He can't find the words to finish the sentence's end. His spirit rails against it's bindings wanting desperatly to be one with those of the two men in front of him once more.
"Sorry, if I'm botherin' ya. Just wanted to fuckin' see yous guys again." Jersey speech pattern gives way to Jersey memories.
[Jitter. Jitter. Pain. Jitter. Tweak.]
(sasha)
"Oh, Kemp, shugah. It's not messy miss. It's French. It means 'my friends'." Sasha couldn't help it as she chuckles, winking over at Tristan. "So, Kemp, brace ya'self for girl cooties." she warns him, "I'm doin' fine, Tristan, ain't de bella a little young for ya tastes?" points to the girl.
(decker)
That southern drawl is as cool as it is slow, "Ain't got nothin' to talk 'bout, Tucker."Getting shut out hurts. But hell, the Eagles were never known for their compassion. 'Cept maybe James. Once. No longer.
He's never stopped walking, and he keeps on walking. Tristan's little group is visible up ahead now, where Addison draws the line between the swankier parts of uptown and the beginning of the warehouse district.
(kemp)
"I got enough cooties. I sure as hell don't need anything to do with girls. If I never see another girl in my life, I will be perfectly happy. Don't need the pain in the ass that comes with them." Giving Tristan a cross-eyed look with a faint nod back like, do something with her, will ya?(tristan)
Blinks again, and laughs – how could she not know? He’d have been sure that his sin against the nation has been well broadcast at this point. “Actually, she wants violin lessons, and she’s not only too young, but entirely too.... female... for my tastes.”He can’t help but chuckle at Kemps look and shrugs slightly in that yeah, like what am I supposed to do? Let her hang on me? kinda way.
(kemp)
Making one of those faces that suggests that Tristan should do exactly that, take the female off of him and do something with it. "He don't need no stinking girl. He's already got them crying on his doorstep, making twisted stories."(sasha)
"Tell you want, shugah. I ain't a girl." arm still thrown across Kemp's shoulders, watching the exchange of looks between Kemp and Tristan. "I'm a woman. T'ere's a big difference."Sasha blinks, "What de hell for?"
(kemp)
"Samething, got tits, got the start of them, thinking about them and lacking a dick, it's female. I ain't interested." Reaching up to move her arm off of him. "I've got other things to do. Like, getting run over by a train."(james)
Eagle was supposed to give James compassion
...... what happened?the Gnawer's expression curls with distaste
smelling the shit that's sweating out of Tucker's flesh
and if that don't beat all - maybe there's a glint of vengeance in deep umber because of it"Nuh. We got s'mthin' a talk 'bout." smile widens. vicious. "Step inna my office, Tuck."
fist wraps in the Fang's lapel
he's as much guided as thrown into a nearby alley(tucker)
"Fine Decker I'll jus- whaa!" A bit if a cry out as he's tugged off balance and stumbling into the alley way."What's this about, man? What'd I do to you?" Brushing himself off a bit.
(nahimana laughing coyote)
Nahimana walks nearly silently down the street, her hands tucked into the pockes of her soft buckskin pants, the fringe sways with her movements, the bead work gints softly in the street light(tristan)
He reaches out and snags Kemp as he shoves off Sasha, winking at her as he very obviously places himself between the two of them. He pushes curls from his eyes, glancing down the way just in time to see Tucker shoved off by... James? Well then. There’s a fond smile just that glimpse of his brother brings unbidden to his lips, before he turns back to Sasha. “Ah, he’s referring to a bit of family who’s in a spot of trouble. And he’s certain that I am too soft hearted in dealing with her.”(decker)
Decker doesn't even seem surprised when James suddenly hauls Tucker off. Pack bonds allow packs to move in perfect synchrony - did you really think he wouldn't feel the potential for violence before it surfaced?He does, however, slow and turn to watch.
(sasha)
"Uh-huh..." both hands drop to rest on hips. Dressed in her usual attire of black fishnet bodysuit, leather strapless dress and combat boots. Knee-length coat draped around her wiry frame. She shakes her head at Kemp, smirking at Tristan's rescue.(james)
"Ain't what you dun a me."in the patterned shadows within the alleyway
the voice seems to growl out of the darkness
speech coming before the figure erupts into oblique light
chasing pace making the trench billow about his legs
matching the dreads that catch tailwind and rise leviathan possessed
backing the Fang further and further into the depths between walls
scifi lyrical as it may be - it matches the dangerous burn in moist earth eyes"S'what you said 'bout my kin."
the Fostern an earthquake looking for a building to shake down
(kemp)
"Ya know how I'll die?" He had to turn to see what Tristan was looking at. "Women. I will die a horrible, painful death and it will be some woman, a pack of women, an army of them, or maybe just the fart of one that kills me." Glancing back with a curt nod.(tristan)
He chuckles at Kemp and grins at Sasha. “Better stay away from the Park then, boyo... seems a few Furies have moved in, and they tend to eat those of us with manhoods for breakfast.”He’s still watching the alley somewhat, curious, but well – he’ll just stay right here. “What brings you down this way Sasha?”
(kemp)
"Yeah well, normally I'd say eat me, but I've decided they just aren't worth the pain." A small shake of his head. "Too much bullshit, not enough rewards to make it worth it."(tucker)
[Oh god what have I done now and am I going to die for it?]Singular thought. "Tristan?" reply through the darkness. "I apologized about that shit, then when I tried to explain why I am the way I am a day or two later he ran off in a huff."
Exhale hard. Voice becoming a bit more commanding. "Yeah, I called him out on bein' gay, it was uncalled for and he didn't fuckin' desrve it." Looking into the Gnawer's eyes. [You're one of my favorite people, can't you tell?] "I apologized, it's over now Jamey boy. If he don't wanna be around me it's his deal now."
Huff. "Sides, from what I hear you got no room to talk."
(sasha)
Pale blue eyes widen as her mouth twists into a wider, cheshire grin. She can't stop chuckling, shaking her head. "Now, I wonder what be goin' on down t'ere."Her head turns around to look towards the direction that Tristan had been watching.
(kemp)
"Whatever it is, it's Eagle business." Curt nod. Adding. "And likely started by some woman."(tristan)
He nods to Kemp’s words, before shrugging. “Definitely Eagle business. I’m just glad to see my bro again. Hopefully he’ll head down this way when he’s done.” And give us all the details.There’s a glance that takes in Nahi down the way, before returning toward Decker’s back, and then back again. Just keeping aware, he’s overdue for a snapshot of ‘this week’s beating of the pretty boi’ for the newsletter after all.
(nahi)
Nahimana nods back to the gentleman who'd nodded to her, she walks over standing a respectful distamce away, waiting to see if she'd be invited to join them(sasha)
Slender black brows shot upward, snapping her head around to stare at Kemp. "Such a beautiful choice of words, shugah. Thank ya for informin' me to stay out of it." She looks back, pivoting her body on the heels of her boots to face that direction. "Ya bro's got Tucker... Wondered if he ran his mouth off again."(kemp)
"Ya see, the way I see it is like this." Tapping the side of his head. "My brain, it's like a hard boiled egg. Hard shelled, solid. Not mouch gets in, nothing comes out but the stink of it. Women, well someone took their little egg brains, cracked them in a bowl, beat the hell out of them with one of those little whippy things and then when they were all scramble to a big ole gooey, no one can figure out the white from the yoke, mess, they got poured back in their heads." Glancing towards the woman that just came up with the er, fringed clothing? Groaning. "Another girl." Looking to Sasha again. "Oh please, what do you think?"(nahi)
"If not for a woman, you would not exist, young one." Nahimana says in a soft sing song voice the cadance reveals she has not been off the Rez for long.(james)
"Think bein' a bigot's 'n excuse?" looking into the Fang's eyes [I trusted you, around my pack and my family, can't you tell?] just as the Fostern's got him backed all the way up against a wall, brick bites into the back of Tucker's jacket... but James gives no quarter "Think hurtin' s'mone who had yer back 'z worse'n whatev'r I done?"something in his smile begs for Tucker to push the fact
give him a reason to strike and quench the dry asphalt ground with blood
palms hit the wall on either side of the younger Garou's head
James exposing his chest and throat to invite stupidity's move
(give me a reason to throat you.... pleaaase)
and suddenly his voice changes, just as he leans in real close
dropping to viper's poisonous whisper"I'll accept you 'plogize'.... 'n I dun care 'f you two dun' look each oth'r in th' face 'gain." Pause. Murderous. "But if I ev'r hear a yeh talkin' 'bout how worthless yeh think m' kin is 'gain, 'r do an'thin' construe' as'n insul'..... yer's'll be th' nex' pair a boots strung ov'r a line. Got it?"
breath chuffs out, punctunating the lecture brought by Rank and Rage
then the Ahroun turns away to stalk out of the alley
final blow to ostracize the disgraced Garou
the Gnawer turning his back on a worthless foe
returning to the welcoming presence of pack(tris)
Gaze narrows, and he shakes his head slightly. “If so, it’s between James and him. Decker’s there.” End of story for them, no matter what he hopes the outcome will be. Nahi speaks and he turns to look at her again, chuckling softly. “Yeah, well, some things are just like that. Can I help you..... miss?”(kemp)_
"And there you have it. Fucked before I got fucked or fucked." Arms shooting up in the air before slapping back to his sides.(nahi)
"I was just out for a walk, init...Learnin' the city..." She turns to go "I didn't mean to intrude." Nahimana nods as she turns(sasha)
Eyes widening slowly, turning around to fix her gaze on Kemp, suddenly narrowing. "Kemp, hush up. Ya cute as a button, but ya mouth ruins it sometimes." She replies with a smile, sweet voice rolling words off her cajun tongue. Another glance over her shoulder back in the direction she faced and nods her head. "I reckon so. Guess I'll need to wait 'round to clean up de Tucker mess"(nahi)
"Aiyah! Where are my Manners? I am Nahimana Laughing Coyote. Shaman of the Sioux Nation." She lifts her chin proudly. If anyone wanted more of an introduction, they's have to reveal what and who they are first.(tris)
Smirks. “Why bother.” And that’s about as close as a ‘i can’t stand him i hope james kills him’ that will come out of the kin’s mouth. Instead, he turns his gaze again on Nahi, dark eyes mirroring the good natured grin that finds familiar lines of his lips. “You’re not intruding. Can I help you find anything?”(tucker)
"Don't you walk away from me -rhya!" He screams. Glaring at the Gnawer's back. "You hurt me, you lied to me for months. I had your back then and I still have it now, drums-rhya. But what you did hurt the family James-rhya. I loved you as a brother, I love you like a brother.... And you repay me by not even fucking telling me."He pauses only to take a breath. "And don't you dare act like you don't know what I'm talking about." Realization, gradual flows into his monologue.
"That's what you've been beatin' yerself up for the past few months aint it? You fucking loved her.... you and fucking Rune were in fucking love, and you didn't have the balls to tell me to my fucking face!"
Softly, "Why?"
(decker)
If Decker shifts his weight to rest evenly between his feet, it's only 'cause he expects James to go and do something violent now. And a beating's one thing. Killing a Garou's another.He scrunches one nostril briefly, lip curling up - a sniff accompanies. Glance around, making sure no one gets too close to this particular alley. Doing for James what James would do for him, in a situation like this. And Decker understands the need to protect kin better than most.
Nothing more said or done.
(james)
it doesn't even seem like the Gnawer stopped
it doesn't even seem like he heard what Tucker was saying
not until he's already moved"...... 'n what reas'n.... ma'e yeh think.... you oughta know.....my secr't tha' broke my hear'....." right back up in the Fang's face where each word drips molten "Do not suff'r thy people t' ten' thy sickn'ss.... ain't tha' righ', Tuck..... i's ov'r nah, Tuck'r-boy, tha's whatcha said.... righ'....?"
push it, Cliath, give me a reason to frenzy.....
(nahi)
At the word KIN Nahimana smiles a closed lipped smile...Some people could be touchy about showing teeth "I think I may have found what or who I was looking for."(kemp)
A faint lift of his chin in response. More concerned with being an obsticle between others and his pack than anything else.(Sasha)
Pitch-black hair tumbles around flawless features as Sasha inclines her head to Nahimana. "Pleasure, bella. Nice to make ya acquaintance."She catches Kemp's head movement, quirking a brow at him quizzically. She doesn't move from her spot, feet planted firmly upon the pavement. Nahimana proved to be an interesting distraction for now. Although, she was dying to know if Tucker was still breathing or not.
(tristan)
He nods, slighly, the violin case in his hand shifting a bit as he adjusts his grip, the other hand in the pocket of tattered jeans. “Understandably so. Who all have you met up with? Chicago’s a big place, but I tend to get around and know a few people here, and there...”(nahi)
"I have met Jim Larson, Yu Gan, Tura, and a large man names LeRoy...a couple of others I think...I cannot remember their names." Nahimana looks a bit embarrassed as pink floods her tan cheeks because she can't recall all the names "And, I have met some the women who...*Light cough* Own the park."(tristan)
He laughs and nods. “I know them. Jim’s family – the rest are not necessarily friends, but I know them. I think a more proper intro is due to you then.” Voice pitches to carry just to them. “Tristan Stern, BeeGee Kin with the Eagles, and all around message boy for half the city it seems like some days. This here’s Eagle land, up north there is LeRoy’s crew, the Knights, over that way belongs to some Irish blokes, the Crows.”(tucker)
The Fang calms visibly. Odd considering the full moon in front of him's disposition."S'not what I meant. I just wish you would have told me, when I found out... I felt betrayed, felt like my own brother who I could feel hurting to his very core, couldn't even let me in. I wanted to help so bad these last few months man. If ya haven't noticed I been goin' through some pretty bad shit m'self."
Breath, slows, audible. "But you never let me in. I wasn't looking to tend your sickness, you can do that on yer own. I was looking to find that thing that was hurting and just... help somehow. Sorry if I opened up a wound there but James...Jamey-boy.... I know what is's like to lose somone you love. You could have come to me."
His head goes down looking to his feet in submission to the Fostern. Wishing he could once again feel the bond afforded by a lost totem.
(nahi)
Nahimana is happy that Jim had explained to her that Th Crows were a pack and not the hated ancient enemy of the Sioux. She takes a deep breath "I too should give proper introduction. I am Nahimana Laughing Coyote, Walks with Spirits. Claith Theurge of the Uktena Tribe. Shaman of the Coyote Clan, Lame Deer Reservation, Lakota Nation. I come here to offer help and healing to all Garou. I have no pack init." Nahimana smiles to those around her "I request permission to tread the land of your territory."(sasha)
Her hands lift up, arms fold across her torso, as they search out the pockets of her coat until a black elastic band was found. Fingers splay through the hair tie, rolling it back over her palm. Sasha begins to gather up the heavy pitch-black mane of hair that fell to her middle of her back, scooping and twisting it off the back of her neck. She pulls the elastic band from her hand, wounding it around her hair to keep the messy twist in place.Pale blue eyes move over to Nahimana once more as she catches Sasha's attention with her introduction. She sidesteps Kemp, slipping behind him to sidle up close to Tristan and the Uktena. A smile upon her face.
"I'm guessin' proper introduction are in order." sweet voice murmuring in the same low tones. "Sasha'Honeysuckle Jubilee'Delacroix, CoG fostern born under Luna's Crescent smile like ya'self, bella."
(kemp)
He hated introductions. And right now he hated talking. Mumbling. "Kemp Oates, Truth in Frenzy." With a wary look around. "Fenrir, no moon. Eagle pack." Rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, sniffing. "Permission for what?"(tris)
He smiles, nodding. “Eagles don’t mind, right Kemp? Long as you keep your nose clean, and if you run into trouble you let one of us know. You can find me most afternoon and evenings playing on the corners around here, drumming up some cash, and 9 times out of 10 I know where someone is if you’ve need to get in touch with someone.”(nahi)
Nahimana smiles and nods at Sasha "I was born waxing."(kemp)
He was probably born talking but then again, he never waxed anything in his life. Cocking his head while listening to the woman. "Er, right." Nodding to Tristan. Just dying to ask what she was born waxing.(nahi)
Nahimand turns her gaze to Tristan "Yu Gan has been kind enough to let me stay with his pack. I am offering mid wife services in return for my stay" Nahimana smiles and nods thinking of the unborn cub(kemp)
Mid wife, that term had always confused him. How did it come to mean, pulling a kid out of someone? Mid wife sounded more like, between the first and last wife. Musing while half listening.(james)
it would be clear to the spirits spying on them from Los Angeles all James wants to do is lash out
find a reason that's good enough to rip the Fang infront of him to nothing more than steaming pieces
and maybe it's by the sole reason of a slanting gibbous in the sky above he finds a reason to calm instead
..... marginally"Yeh?" somehow mockery lends its bite to his self-depreciative smirk "She ain' th' firs' I los. Maybe I dun' wanna share tha' pain wi'h nobody...... 'cause nothin'.....nothin' soothe that pain 'cept re'lizin' once they' gone..... they dun' ev'r come back."
the Fang submits
and this time, when the Gnawer turns, nothing will draw him back
(sasha)
Black, sculpted brows lift upward at that bit of news. "Sounds like someone's repopulatin' already." her nose crinkles up, turning away from the group to look in the direction of the alley once more.(tristan)
There’s a nod, slight. “Who’s having the kid?” out of curiosity and all. Seems like there’s something in the water in Chicago. Might want to get Kemp a new stash of condoms just in case he quits hating women and all...(decker)
When James comes back out of the alley Decker starts moving again. Heading back to Eagle turf. Addison's a block away and that's the boundary line.He doesn't ask James about the confrontation. Doesn't need to. They were a pack, but they all had their own secrets, lives and reasons. James doesn't ask him about Imogen. He'll return the favor.
Somewhere along the way, as James' rage washes off the Gnawer and slowly, slowly begins to subside, Decker reaches into his pocket for a battered joint. Scratches a match along the wall as he moves, lights up, tosses the match aside and puffs. Passes.
(tucker)
Shrug. The Gnawer is right. There is no, somtimes they come back in this life. Tucker's lost a laundry list to find that out."I miss her too, somthin' terrible." Spoken to the gnawer's back as he walks away, loud enough that he can hear.
He's not itching now, and he pulls down his shirtsleeves to hide the deep fingernail cuts.
He leaves through the alley's other end a few minutes later, sullen and lonely. Well, maybe Sasha will be at the hotel when he gets home. She's always good to talk to.
(james)
James never asks the Modi about Imogen
he just defends and protects her as he can
knowing how special she is to his packmate
that's all he really needs to know
the strange and turbulent... friendship... with the good doctor is just gravy
and while the returned modicrum of respect and privacy may be a favor
there are also some things you simply shouldn't speak of
not even with your packmates
which is why James kept his agony to himselfhe doesn't let the wince show
hearing Tucker's last comment
but Decker can sure as hell feel it
(best thing to do is keep trying to forget her, Jamey-boy)his gaze doesn't lift from the sidewalk
(don't let them see the hurt behind the fury even if it's clear as day)
the joint plucked from calloused fingers clean and blind
smoke sucked into lungs that will never blacken with some kind of vengeance
head shakes to bring him back to reality and pass the burning j back(sasha)
Sasha looked on after Kemp as he left to adhere to the call of nature, turning around to face Tristan and Nahimana once more. She feigns a pretty smile at the news of another's fortune of procreation, even as the blessed news rubs at an sore spot somewhere inside of her, hitting home just a little hard. "S'good to hear. I'm happy for de couple."(tristan)
He nods then, slightly. “Ah... pass along my congratulations when you see her next hm?” Not sure which she was, but that’s alright. Still heartfelt. There’s a nod for Kemp, and an affectionate thump on his shoulder, before his attention returns to James and Decker as they hid this way.More so, James, knowing him well enough to see the tension in his frame, to read the pain under the skin, thought the veins (thought we agreed to leave them back in Jersey, bro. – never is that easy, is it?) in the way steps hit the pavement, and so on. A smile for Nahi and Sasha. “If you’ll excuse me.” And without waiting for a reply, he’s closing the distance between James and Decker and himself. Meeting them halfway, as the saying goes.
(decker)
If Decker were another tribe, another garou, another man, he might throw his fist around James like a brother. He might slap him on the back or give his shoulder a quick affectionate rub. Body language, comfort in a gesture. But he's not, and the joint passed back and forth is all there is.Drag and hit, hold and release. Pass. Met Sasha yet? If he hadn't, he will now.
(nahi)
Nahimana smiles and nods "Aiyah, I will."(sasha)
Who hasn't met Sasha, yet? She was pretty hard not to miss, turning to stand next to the Native American woman, as her eyes travel after Tristan (and watching his ass) to the Modi and James. "I t'ink, bella, ya about to meet de rest of de Eagles." She says with a quirk of a smile. "Decker's de bald one, Fenrir, warrior. Ain't sure about his friend." she leans closer to Nahimana to whisper in her ear.(james)
maybe all the comfort James needs (accepts) is the presence of those packmates that are still with themHuh? baaack to reality, raggedyman
dark eyes lift to glance ahead and see what the hell Decker was talking about
they skirt over Tristan (hey bro...) and to the small group beyond
two unknown females, Kemp rounding the corner to take a leak
a brow almost begins to cock, wondering why he's being warned.....
but thoughts drift to wanting something a LOT stronger than pot to numb the resurfacing pain
hit. hold. pass.they've gone from loitering to public intoxication, folks!
(nahi)
Nahimana nods at Sasha's words wondering why she called her Cher when she had told her her name was Nahimanah, besides, Cher was part Cherokee...(tristan)
He steps to the side for a moment, and contemplates pulling james away, but one look at him, that brief meeting of his gaze is enough. His shit can wait. He falls into step and when they get close enough, does the introduction thing. “Sasha, this is my bro, James – and you know Decker. Nahimana, these are the Eagles I mentioned. Decker and James – boy,s Nahimana, she’s staying with the Quick.”After he’s done that, he sets his violin case down on the ground at his feet, and digs through pockets until finding his pack and lighter. Cigarette lit, pack and lighter tucked away again, and he picks up the case once more.
(nahi)
Nahiman nods and smiles with her lips closed, unsure of those now approaching
"It is good to meet all of you. Are either of you the Alpha of the Eagles?" Nahimana asks with bowed head and lowered eyes just in case one of them was the Alpha(decker)
Well...shit. He ain't bald. But with his hair cropped to a bare bristle, it's easy to mistake him for that from far off. Close up he's got hair. Light-colored, probably blonde, given the golden eyebrows, the honey-hued eyelashes, each darker than the last.And grey eyes. Angry grey eyes. He pushes his rage ahead of him like a storm front. Those eyes flicker over Sasha, Tristan, then on to Nahimana briefly. He nods up.
Thassit.
(james)
"Nuh."(he's uglier than either of us)
but rather than a vicious sneer, the Gnawer pulls himself together
(fake it, Jamey-boy)
James casts the two new females a rather lopsided grin
and, by the look of things, it will always be lopsided
probably caused by the rift that starts about midline on the left side of his jaw
it would, logically, be the reason for his slur, as well
(note he is not attempting to pronounce _either_ of their names)
which makes him fascinatingly all but unintelligable coupled with the thick Yankee accent and fast-acting weed"Close 'nuff if yeh need s'mthi'?"
yeh... PR guy of the pack of something like that
Decker's hair is shorn short and nordic blond, grey eyes holding the storm
James' is raggedy sprawl of dark dreadlocks, deepening the rich earth umber of his eyes
(eyes that are dead behind the still ebbing tide of Rage)(nahi)
"I wish only to offer my respect and to ask directly for permission to tread Eagle lands in safety." Nahimana says in a soft sing song voice that carries the cadance of the Rez she'd left just weeks ago(sasha)
She clears her throat, offering up a sultry smile to the Ahrouns, inclining her head in the slight dip of her chin. Pale blue eyes drank in their appearance, as her head tilts up. "Evenin' all." cajun flavored voice, rolls sweetly over the ears as she spoke. Both hands perch on her leather clad hips, standing with her boots braced to support the hard lines of muscle that play over feminine softness. A quiet nobleness shined in her stature from her silver-blooded pedigree.The double roll of rage pouring off the men swam over her senses, lifting dark brows at them in a curious expression, her own low rage barily noticeable to even mark her as a wolf at all.
(tristan)
He doesn’t say anything else at that point, simply watches and listenings as he makes slow steady work of his cigarette, tapping the ashes to the ground during exhalations, the flutter of grayish ash unseen in the dirty mess of Chicago Streets, his gaze... off that way, somewhere. His thoughts his own.(decker)
"You don' bother us, we don' bother you," Decker says. Simple as that. James can elaborate if he wants, to make sure there ain't no misunderstanding. A curt nod up to Sasha. "'Sup." Pause. "You bring Tuck here?"(sasha)
Dark brows quickly furrow into a small frown, etching across pretty features. Shake of her head, "Nah, I didn't, shugah. I didn't even know he was on t'is side of de tracks. He startin' shit again?"(nahi)
"Aiyah. It's good then, init?" Nahimana smiles at the men, her hands in the pockes of her beaded and fringed buckskin jacket(james)
put two of Eagle's full moons together and their Rage swirls growing storm
meeting them side by side on the street is comparable to being hit by a freight train on some nights
normally, this happens when the moon is swelled pregnant in the sky
tonight, the same can be said about the gibbous with one so traditionally nasty and the other so close to a previous frenzyall hail the wonders of super green....
it allows James to elaborate on Decker's synopsis with something of a smile
"Yeh. S'good. Keep y'r nose clean 'n us in th' loop a an'thin' hitchy 'n we'll letcha pass through as yeh wan'." a pause, only long enough to negotiate a trail of thoughts that swirled and formed in the fog of his mind before disappearing again "S'cuse me, folks, du'y call'."
little more than a cordial nod to those he just met
and the Gnawer extracts himself from the little meet'n'greet
deep umber eyes on the cement beneath his boots
working his way back to the pack haven by memory's navigation
(damning himself for allowing it to hurt again)(tristan)
Funny, that’s what he told her too. But well, his attention is on James now, watching him go, before he flicks the cigarette in his hand into the gutter and just lowers his gaze to his boots, letting the conversation slide by him.(decker)
Decker grunts and shrugs. This seems to answer everyone.Then James extricates himself. Decker doesn't watch him go. When you're pack, you're never really apart. Why bother?
There's something like an awkward silence, except Decker's silence is more on the distracted side, impatient. Stand near him and you feel an energy coming off of him, like he burned hotter and faster than everyone else. It's in sharp contrast to his lazy deliberation of movement, the studied thuggishness of walk and gesture.
Abruptly, to Tristan, "James had'a talk with Tuck. Over you."
(tristan)
Until Decker brings him back to the present. “That so.” He looks up – and meets the Modi’s gaze a moment before lowering it again... “Anything I should know about?” Yeah, he wants to know, but he also knows the Decker will tell him nothing he doesn’t want too.(nahi)
Nahimana looks from face to face "I am weary. I have been on the road for many days and nights. It was good that we met. I thank all of you for your hospitality. I will return to my host's to rest." She smiles a bit "Good night."(sasha)
Posted by james at March 10, 2004 12:00 AM
"Hrmm..." the feel of the rage clicks some random thought into Sasha's brain, bringing forth some forbidden knowledge of how to downplay all this rage. She doesn't entertain the thoughts, remembering what happened last time when she crippled Tucker's. Hands pull up to slide over her arms, folding them across her chest as she listens. "Night, Nahimana."
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