May 19, 2004
.05.19.04. - bitchin' [rumor]

[riverfront]

(james)
somewhere between the sun's set and star's rise
a pizza was delivered, then disappeared
a redhead finally convinced her body to get back up and go home
and an Ahroun found his way back outside

a Tribal penchance for wandering guided him to a small park
it's not really a park, persay, more of a landscaped nook on the riverfront strip
funded by some legislature's breif attention
little more than a bedded tree surrounded by a few low bushes
accompanied by a cement table, a few benches, and a garbage can to service the spot
all set to overlook what may someday be a fairly picturesque bank along the waterfront

James has taken his place on one of the benches

deep umber watches not the water flowing freely by
but the stellar sparkle brightening in the darkness high above
Corcoran II's stretch to cross ankles on the sole table
bench's wood paneling pressing into the scars bared on his back
dreadlocks haphazardly falling to tangle on his shoulders

to his left sits rumbled shirt brought just in case
(Midweek's not the most popular night out, after all)
pillowing a pack of Camel 99's and battered brass Zippo
to his right one newly opened bottle of beer fizzles mutely
carbonation released background harmony to the river's endless wash

(rumor)
Somewhere between suns set and stars rise, the shaggy haired firecracker had made her way from the downtown area to the Reverfront via old tattered -left behind- skateboard.

push push coast.
She had been getting good on that thing...after a few scrapes, some hurt pride and a collection of scabs come and gone...

she had gotton good on this thing...

push push coast.

the night now surrounding her. the freaks come out at night...the freaks...the freaks come out at night
How true...and that was one of her favorite things
--people watching--
Up on curb...board scrapes along the curb but she stays on it...

"Bitchin...." she smirks.

near the park. the small park the landscaped nook...
near the bench...(coincidence) the dreadlocked elder bee gee

Good thing she didnt see him there yet.
Or she possibly could have been eating pavement.

(james)
she didn't see him yet - but the wolf in man's clothing certainly heard her approach
attention drug from the stars to land on the execution of one fairly confident Ollie
(....bitchin')

he doesn't move, really, at least not much
(Lo, to break her concentration)
one arm drapes along the back of the bench
it facilitates his half-turn to watch
the other's caught in the process of grabbing bottle
good slug of beer washing down his throat
then the base finds place to rest along the top of camoflage covered thigh

(rumor)
The board flips fromt he pavement to her hand. With one quick converse press it is firmly placed under an arm and her hand is moving through the shaggy bangs to push them out of her eyes.
stop
freeze. time stops

A swig of beer, bottle rested on camoflauge thigh. Cobalt blue eyes have now locked and recognized.
(thank God she hadnt seen him 4 seconds earlier)

Its 30 seconds that pass. 30 seconds which actually felt like 15 minutes. 30 seconds could sometimes feel like a lifetime
In that 30 seconds, she had caught her breath, feeling cheeks flush red with color (shadowed in the night) heart beat racing...one breath, eyes quickly close, and she instantly - well 30 second instantly- has composed herself.
yes thats it
Like a teenage kid bumping into front boy dancer from N'Sync. Only he wasnt some faggy boy band and she was no teenie bopper kid.
But safe effect, and she had pushed it aside well, in those 30 seconds. (felt like 15 minutes)

"hey there" (yes, 2 words, came out right, way to go rumor!)

"Sup?" add one more, no wipe outs and nothing dumb. score!

(james)
"Yo."

chin lifts up in pack-established greeting
bottle lifts up to toast her arrival - cause hey, James is in a good mood tonight
lips quirk into the (forever) lopsided semblance of a grin

"Nice Ollie."

amber swirls behind chilled glass
gesture waving the bottle towards one of the empty benches
invitation for her to park it for a bit, if she so chooses
(you mean if she can coordinate herself that much, Jamey-boy)
the Ahroun doesn't make anything of noticing her shock and stammer
no sudden scramble to appear anything but rudely relaxed in possessive sprawl
not by putting a shirt on or taking his feet off the table or putting away that publicly consumed beer
he pretty much just lets it slide with little more than that salutation

(rumor)
She knows nothing about pack-established greeting. Never been in a pack. But that upper nod has been noted more then once now.

nice ollie
"Heh" she grins. "didnt know it had a name, but took a few cracks on the pavement to actually perfect it."

invitation to sit Hell yeah she could compose herself...she only acted a fool once.
15...certainly something that was better off never though of again.

One breath, a smile and a nod.

3 steps closer and she sees the lack of his shirt. Perhaps one brief -stare-
she IS human

And she is plopped on the bench next to him. Not disrupting the beer nor his sprawled pose.

"You seem pimpleass?" (Kemp) "cause i swear hes gonna faceplant that bike into a truck any day now"

(james)
"Ol' packma'e rode a boar'.... pick up a few name' here'n there."

shoulders shrug in support of the excuse
flesh rubs against the lacquered board composing the bench's back
even in the darkening night and beneath the absolutely untamed sprawl of dreads
Rumor can see the ashed scars creeping up over those shoulders from his back
and easy enough to see the glyphed brand on his breastbone from the mini-park's meager lamp
oblique light skidding across the inks designing inner forarm as it moves
at first to raise the bottle to his lips, then up to allow fingers tap of temple

"Nuh..... kin' fine 'im if ya wan'." breif huff of amused chuckle "But he dunn kill'msel' yet."

(rumor)
She shakes her head. she had already noticed the scars, the ink..twice in fact. Hello there, she is 15, full of hormones and sitting next to a half naked hot one

Composed well. good job Rumor!

A nod..."never been a skater...actually used to torment them...tormented roller bladers too..but found it in the garbage, and half the time it beats walkin..."

Explanation...she certainly wasnt a 'skater chick'.
"Naw dont need to find him, just wonderin if he fuond himself pasted to the ass end of a pickup yet" she chuckles.

stops. breathes. heart beat racing--but he didnt know that (or she didnt think he did)

"The hair is bitchin" she points to his dreads, she had liked Roxys...but now on him it was like eye candy buffet. All you can look (eat).
Smiling...
"It's a quiet night...doesnt that usually mean the calm before the storm?"

(james)
"Nawww." been hanging around Decker too much, lately "Coupla close call', but no pastage ye'." there's amusement in his smile and a low, throat, growly chuckle washed down by another swig of beer just before it points towards the board in tow "Hella cheap'r 'n publi' transpor', too."

that's when the Ahroun all out laughs
luckily - it was after the swig swallowed
so she's not faced with all his apparent hotness choking like an idiot
and while the sound may catch the nervous youth off guard
it's clear enough by tone and warmth he isn't laughing at anything she said
well, at least not at anything including her expense
clarified as free hand moves up to tug on errant dread

"Ya think?" he's still wearing that cash-winning showman's easy smile, even if it's lopsided "Dunn think an'body said tha' 'bout it, 'fore."

hand keeps moving up to rake through his jungle-vine hair
(primal animal caught in the urban sprawl, does she doubt his hearing's only human?)
dark eyes lifting once more towards the partially cloudy skies above

"Not alway'." soft sounds mused, he could have been a poet if fate didn't birth him a Warrior "Ev'ry quiet portent s'a storm, wha's 'portan' is how long it las'." gaze ticktocks to meet hers, then chin lifts assisting it's point towards the horizon "Tha' may go up'n nucl'ar flame 'fore I finish my thought, 'cause th' storm'z only minute' 'way 'n the en' begin t'nigh'. Or....." head tilts the opposite way, casting few ropey dreads to swing for gravity "..... we may getta night'a peace 'n res'. Time 'llowed'a realize 'n 'ppreciate what it is we're fightin' for..... 'n tha' we go' one more night'a live 's if it we're our las' so there' no regret' a was'ed t'morrow's....."

he seems to blink, just then
lips caught open just before the formation of another word
realizing he's waxing on a poetical tangent
grin turning a little sheepish when breath exhales unused
(whoops)

(rumor)
The laugh. it was somewhat apparent it wasnt directed at her. Although she couldnt help but feel the heat filling up her cheeks (thank Gaia for the shadows) the heat rushing in causing the color to come through. Something she could NOT stop. Even if she was composing herself well.

ya think? She nods.."fuck yeah...said it to Roxy too...pimpleass says its like knatty gross shit...but no way...its like way too cool.." and here comes the waterfall...

Like hover dam springing a leak...out comes a plethora of words all rambled up jumbled trying to make sense but more like a giddy kid..(take a breath and BREATH or you wil pass out)
"i mean its just cool...they are just..i mean, they are rad..."

Yup and she actually reaches out and touches them--not sexually at all-- just to check them out....
shes a kid...she wasnt coming on to him
Not at all...

Letting the vines go....and listening to him more...

no whoops she listens. Kemp was surprised that Rumor listened to him...that look..the way her eyes get wider as they speak.

Kemp teaching her about the ripple effect

Kemp wasnt used to being listened to, and now James seems to be taken aback at her complete concentration on his philosphy.

"Peace n rest...somethin yall dont get much of...least from what i hear...i mean dont get me wrong...im all about the cause n stuff, i understand it, but must be nice to get a break...i mean its not like you can take a vacation or nuttin...right?"

a grin.
a smile.

Wow she actually is doing the conversation quite well.

Even with the heavy drumbeat of hear heart thumping in her chest...

Like idolizing--not the way she teased and joked with Kemp. She dug him. But more the looking up idol type.
Elder Bee Gee.

and fucking..hot.

(james)
there's another low-key chuckle rumbling out of the Ahroun's chest
definitely at the description of his choice of hairstyles

"Funny tha'.... I bathe more'n he does."

statement supported by fact
for when she reaches out and touches ropey dread
(wasn't Tristan the only that could get away with that?)
she'll find it's weighty hang is because it's still damp
it's not the sole responsibility of gravity's wonton decree
her fingers come back smelling decidedly like shampoo
in fact, if she were paying attention
she could tell that aside from a few new smears from contact with the bench
the Gnawer is damn clean
after a workout like the sparring session with Imogen - he wasn't about to walk around the streets all sweaty and grimey and nasty no matter what his Tribe's reputation may be

and yeh, James is a little taken aback by her enthrallment with his ramble
it's not often - especially now with the battlescar slur - that he gets to speak his mind's explorations
Eagle pack is not known for late night rap sessions focusing on the soul's plight
they fight the Good Fight until exhaustion or injuries take their toll
and spend nights like these quietly assessing what's left
mostly alone, but should they spend them together: not a word is said
they speak of the things that bring distraction's sanity
tossing between them insults, chides, jokes, challenges, beer, or weed
they're all too leery of breaking the peaceful spell by attending to such intimate thoughts
not that any would truly be comfortable addressing them anyway
.... not with each other

such things are shared in sorrowful silence

so that Rumor practically devours each word he muses
he gets over the surprise all but immediately
seems he's as eager to hold an intelligent and meaningful conversation as she is to hear it
most definitely not talking to her like she's only fifteen, or even a kinfolk for that matter
the Fostern BeeGee Elder seems to be speaking to her like she's a god. damned. equal.

"This job dunn come wi' pay vacash'n." going with the flow and nodding with careful - sad - smile "We res' wh'n we fall, 'n pray 'r death's a good'n. Otherwi' all we got 'z this. Qui' nigh', good beer, frien'ly face 'n pleas'n' wor's." she can tell he meant conversation, but it was too hard to say "I learn'd long time 'go t' live each nigh' like't w's my las'. Hones'ly dunno if I'll see 'morrow anyway..... "

it may seem strange to her - there's no bitterness in that admission
no suffered resolution or martyr's solemn vow
seems the Ahroun has readily and easily accepted such a fate
it is the way things have always been, and shall be
all he hopes for is to die a good death and make all the effort worth it

"Make s'nigh's like this mean more. These few hour' are my vacash'n."

(rumor)
She didnt doubt that. the bathing thing not that she would ever get too close to him anyways. The 2 of them, frick and frack, like kids on the playground. She kicked him in the shin, he called her dumbass, she returned with pimpleass...and all was well in teenage-dom.
It was what it was, it is what it is...what would it be...who the fuck knew, and neither would even come close to admitting anything. Even a spark...no fucking way FUCK THAT
when she reaches out and touches ropey dread
(wasn't Tristan the only that could get away with that?) She didnt know that. Now did she.

She was paying attention, always. Curious by nature. curiosity killed the cat satisfaction brought em back...
She could tell he was damn clean. Perhaps even cleaner then her, although she kept herself up well. How? Well no one really knew, and no one really asked. Which was fine with her.
No one asked much, her secrets were safely shoved deep inside her mind. Memories that didnt need to be excivated. Nope. A wall built, a labrynth around it and she was fine with it.

speak his mind's explorations She was a captive audience. Not as much oogling anymore, but listening...

Eagle pack was not known for its conversations, from what she had seen, she normally spoke 3 times anyone else, and she had jsut met some of them, never met others. Something bout the way they communicated with grunts nods and the occasional snort.
She didnt drink. Didnt smoke. Odd for her kind, and a street kid, a packrat, a ragamuffin. Just something she stayed away from. Perhaps her own reasons....

the Fostern BeeGee Elder seems to be speaking to her like she's a god. damned. equal.
and that was just -odd-
She shows him the respect deserved however.

"Guess thats how it is anyways for anyone, not knowin if they'll see tomorrow...fuck, anyone could be crushed by a semi at any given moment, shot by some freaky postal worker or someone who got fired from Kmart...stranger things have happened...think everyone should live life that way...aint nothin for sure ever...not for the Garou (said so quietly) not the kin...not anyone" a shrug and a smirk.
She chuckles.
"Well its a shame you have to spend it in Chicago, I mean Bahamas would be a nicer vacation...but you also get to see things that are wicked cool from what i hear...kinda like a vacation...i mean, the umbra (quiet again) I know sometimes can be dangerous...n fucked up, but i cant do the walk in there thing...i bet there are some cool ass things in there, (she truly had no clue about the umbra except stories she had heard...had always been packless...shit her family--useless--
"and a caern (quietly spoken) aint never been to one, but...heard stories"

(james)
seems James is all smiles tonight
unheeding how they hitch when expression climbs across the left side of his jaw
he doesn't sweat the little things, it's clear there's more out there that's far more important
he just appears to be enjoying the company for how pleasent it is
regardless how deeply serious the topic at hand may be

"Z'ac'ly righ." the nod is sage, even, raggedyman turned sudden urban shaman "Jus' cause they not on th' fron' lines a this War li'e us, 'r ev'n know 'bout it, dunn mean ev'ry day ain' a battle a some sor'. Shamef'l par's wh'en nobody realize' it.... 'n was'e th' time they'ave."

shoulders roll in a shrug
night's cooling down, so moisture doesn't stick flesh to lacquered wood this time
the movement's smooth in the way it lifts dreads and ripples scars
dark eyes drop to fingers fiddling with pack of smokes
he pulls one out for himself, and begins to offer to her out of habit
but then he stops - maybe cause it's contributing to the delinquency of a minor
most likely because he remembered she didn't smoke at their last meeting
Zippo and pack dropped on rumpled tee after the cherry's lit
now empty beer bottle used as an ashtray

"I go where Moth'r call. Pluck'd me outta Alb'ny when I wa nineteen, sen' me a NYC, Jersey, 'n down th' Eas' Coas'.... now'm here, 'n maybe one day she'll see reason a send Eagles a B'hama. I wou'd'n c'mplain!" laughed "Seem a be gettin' 'roun' the worl' fas' 'nuff, seein' it both side a th' gauntle' f'r all its good'n bad."

(rumor)
A chuckle escapes and legs are pulled up into indian style position on the bench. Little chilly out here. Not horrible...certainly not intolerable, but slightly chilly.

A nod. and she watches him pause at the offering her a smoke. A smirk hearing Kemps voice in her head bitching about causin cancer n shit. Not like he could really get cancer. Smoking, she had tried it, tasted like an ass (or at least what shed assume ass tasted like) Plus she coudlnt afford a habit like that, never know where her next dollar would come. Although she always seemed to get it.

Last nights dinner was sponsored by Jack Handler. Thank you Jack...you shoudl be getting your wallet back in the mail with everthing in tact, except the cash...nice lil girl who found it n all

Life was strange, certainly not like a box of chocolates..forrests mom lied
another shrug and a breath of the night air.
"Yannow, runnin solo just seems normal to me, cause its all i have had, kinda funny... (small secrets escape..only small ones, part of thelabrynth around her past)
"Mom was useless...seriously named me Rumor, cause -rumor had it my dad was some Bee Gee warrior"

a pause..
"course he could have also been about anyone else on the block im sure, so Rumor it was, rumor stuck"

another pause. then a chuckle...
"watchin ya guys though, its just kinda cool, its family, well tighter then family, cause frankly some peoples families just suck" she glances up at the (elder, respected, still hot fostern bee gee)

"Ya get what you're dealt, no use whining and crying bout it, make the best of it...make life fun, fuck it i mean, it is what ya make of it right?"
asked.
question.

"then again what do i know, " a laugh.."im 15...almost 16"(ok she said that too quick -starstruck-)

(james)
"S'about how I see it." the Ahroun nods, but what's easy breifly wanes to sad, almost fondly whistlful, in recollection "Fam'ly I once had turn' on me. S'where I got these scar'." twist of chin towards shoulder, added to the absent wave of cig scissored between two fingers "Made th' bes' of what card' it dealt me, 'n did what I hadda do."

his gaze turns to her
there's a lot of knowledge (sorrow) in dark eyes not even a decade older than hers
but the expression quirks easy, effortless once again

"Wasn' much ol'er 'n you a' th' time. 'n Kem' learn'd how hard this life get' not ev'n a year 'go." I was there those eyes seem to say I saw what horrors broke his heart and blessed his Rite of Passage "Fam'ly ain' alway' th' folks ya born to, s'th' folk' ya get a choose. Got relay'sh'ns back Eas', but I call Tris'n broth'r, 'n th' boys my fam'ly now. Tha' pack's ev'rythin' a me."

more important than the Nation
more important than the Caern they bled to raise
more important, she can so clearly see, than everything save Gaia
no matter what atrocities the Fostern has been through
he will always have the strength of his faith in Mother Gaia
even an inexperienced, teenaged kin can see that in the depths of deep umber eyes
but just as quick as anything - the gravity of their conversation launches into chide's orbit

"Rum'r ain' that badda name." hand reaches out and skirts over her skull, ruffling black locks streaked red back into her face from where she had so carefully placed it just before "Soun' like a deed name wi' tha' story. S'like how I got dub' "Jukebox" 'fore th' name th' Nation know' now."

(rumor)
Funny how things come out, funny how things are alike (never coincidences)
Pack may be everything to him.

More important than anythin...Nation, Caern, everything. Pack isnt something shed even understand...till one day she experiecned it.
He was right, family wasnt always what you were born from. She hadnt seen her mother since that day she left. And never looked back.
She never had to...
The first time someone spoke of Kemp and his -hard time-.
that day in the factory. The way the fun loving mood had switched in an instant to the dark cloud.
[check please]
She had felt it, it sucked. Nothing good about it, and though not a word was spoken, and the mood had passed, she had recognized the feeling.

The way she could so clearly see his faith in Gaia, his knowledge and faith, everything apparent.

Right there.
She could see the pain and suffering (even if only for a moment) that day...in the factory.

"It's always good to know someone gots your back...cause no ones born with eyes in the back of their head...guess thats what its like havin pack n people who give a shit..they get to be the eyes in the back of yer head" she chuckles.

"and if they are kemps, then they are probably lookin at your ass" she smirks.

Hand moves to her hair. Ruffling her new-found do. ohmygodheartpitterpatteromygod calm calm calm breathe ok better phew

a smile and a shrug... "Kemp had my back though when that Lord was all bein an asshole... i mean i wiped out clearly...bad timing, and the Lord was wearin my slurpee...but it wasnt intentional...i mean, jeesh like id wipe out intentionally..."
a huff a snort...and a chuckle.
"was pretty fuckin funny though, once i fixed the bit of broken pride n all"

another pause..

"Jukebox?" head tilts slightly...."didnt know they called you jukebox...just was told James..." face still slightly flushed..even sayin his name..certain things triggered that pitter patter, but mostly she was doin
just
fine.

(james)
the Fostern - again - laughs

"Dun think I got Kem' watchin' my ass 'stead a back. My curves'n dangly parts 'r in all th' wrong place'." winked in a street-showman's smooth confidence "That'd be yo' pro'l'm. He s'a damn good kid. Green as hell, but I ain't seen many tha' young 'n fulla heart." a breif glance at her that's still got a bit of playful grin "'R ded'cate 'msel' t' protec' kin so strong."

he knows a lot of it stems from making up for the one kin the Rotagar couldn't protect
and James isn't sure how long it will take the boy to come to terms with what happened back in Jersey
whether he'll ever fully understand how his actions saved the child instead of destroyed her
but that isn't the Gnawer's battle to fight
only Kemp can discover such wisdom
... though it doesn't mean James won't do whatever he can to help

"'specially 'gains' a Lor'...." his nose wrinkles in distaste "Nev'r met one I like a tha' blood."

then his head tips, dreads falling into the laughter

"Yeh, got name' Jukebox 'roun' thirteen, 'n it stuck af'r my Rite a Pass'ge.... 'cause I cou' play aaaaanythin' whennit came a drummin. S'what lead in a th' change t' Drums'n'Skull' af'r tha' fight a lef' these scar'." that would be a smirk, there "Took'm out wi' my 'sticks.... pieces a rebar, bash' 's fuck'n skull in..... 'n a witty The'rge thought it 'ppropriate a th' lesson I learn tha' night."

(rumor)
Finally it is time to make her little pitter patter game out in open, so it would alleviate her constant stammer and blushing.

The wink...the comment about his dangely parts.
"between Tristan givng me a visual of you coming out of a shwoer in a towel, and you talking bout dangley parts, im thinkin your gonna make a 'sweet lass' pass out"
said like the southern belle she WASNT. Definately a joke..

"so to cease torturing this poor 15 year old...dont go there..cause im not quite sure if this lil head can handle those visuals" she grins.
There, now a joke...out...and no longer the weight of OHMYGOD on her shoulders.
"Pimpleass seems cool...we are like bonnie n clyde...i think hes cool, but dont tell him that"
She nods..
"when i wiped out, the lord called me Kemps toy...i got nothin wrong with bein kin, shit we are cool in our own way...but fuck if im gonna be called a toy...but oh i sometimes dont think befeo i speak...so Imogen stoped me as i spouted off my feelings for the Lord" she laughs.
"Imogens been helpin me out a lot, i wanna be a like her...shes one badass chick, and smart...sort of a cope, with dead people or soemthing....plus i wanna be a little like Roxy...especially with the fixing of the cars...Tristan is too cool, and puts kemp in his place..i like him, hes cute, too bad hes gay, i mean another one bites the dust" she laughs...
THAN....
it's

The scar game.
Although she never won it was a game she enjoyed...
Something about gnawers...or maybe all children of Gaia...lood or kin...or fuck it maybe just sickos like her....
but the scar game..
"never had to to a rite of passage...but, you see this?"
excitement in her voice, proud excitement..
She lifts her shirt up on the side exposing one raised scar. jagged...
"Mom was wacked out on crank or crack or one of those dirty nasty drugs...I was watchin tv, suppsin it was interrupting her fuck session and she came at me with a bottle, swung for my head, missed, but bottle broke and i got the backhanded swing to the side, left me with hte zorro mark on my side."
a chuckle..."hurt like hell, but healed up kinda bitchin"
a pause...no mentions at all on the accompanying scars just lower and off to the left of that one. No mention. They were much more faded, and were indescribable...not bullets, not a knife, just circular raised but fades scars.
No mention of those...perhaps they werent worth talking about. (skelitons)

(james)
the Ahrouns' calloused hands go up in surrender
palms open and fingers spread wide in the symbol of backpedalling

"I 'pologize." an Elder apologizing.... sincerily.... to a Kin?! "Won' go there 'gain."

and James was serious in that apology
even if he's still wearing that playful grin
no need to let verbal faux pas ruin the rest of the fun

"Im'gen s'a good woman.... if.... skeery with'r flesh peelin' glares." no question James has recieved his fair share of those "She's med'cal 'xaminer f'r Cook Coun'y... sor'a like'r own version a Scully, 'cept she work f'r th' State 'stead'a the FBI."

hey, the analogy DOES fit
even if you'd never. ever. catch James saying it infront of said redheaded kin
reiteration: he's recieved his fair share of those flesh peeling glares
strange enough he may be Mulder to her Scully
(they fight crime!)
but reactions to such comparisons is one Truth out there he wishes not to find

THEN - the scar game begins
and a brow lifts towards frame of shaggy dreads
whistling low at the collection of skin gnarling her side
nasty, yes. bitchin', oh yes.

"Think y'r more like Tris'n th'n ya think already." the Fostern's too amused, head shaking in laughter "He think' 'is collect'n a scars 'r bitchin' 'n sexy. Only one I go' worth showin's my back.... can' see what' fuck'n up m' jaw."

but, true to form in the game
(he's an Ahroun, could he really resist the challenge of scar show and tell?)
boots pull from where they rest on the cement table
planting on the ground shoulder-width apart to bear his weight
all of it pivoting around the point where camoflaged BDUs meet bench seat
hand sweeping the heavy curtain of dreads from blocking the way
showing her the full-extent of the mauling's marks latticing his flesh
savagely deep marks stained haunting, ominous black
discolored skin raised in battle's horrible braille
telling the story through destruction's aftermath that needs no words
claw-marks (Crinos claws could only cause that much damage) beginning on the tops of his shoulders
as if some maddened creature grasped for some twisted piggy-back-ride
slashing down past triangulation of scapula when grip was lost
beginning again to form the slashing design of hate's blistering (Frenzy. Thrall.) fury
as if that creature, so offended, meant only to rip James' spine from his skeleton
marks disappearing below the line of his belt

(rumor)
His apology, althoguh unexpected was noted.
"didnt mean it like that, just...well i dunno something about you talking about your dangling parts is going to make me not able to focus on this game!"

heh
good enough.

"i cant win, but i can come in a close second"
(granted there were only 2 of them)

Stop
Change subject.
"ohhhhhhhhhh like skully...i saw the badge, we talked a bit, but she didnt quite get the time to exaplin what the dead had to do with her job, just she had a badge, and a lot to do with the dead...and a pager that never quits."
she chuckles...

"Ok back to the game" she looks...really examines the scars for what they were...his battle wounds in battle, hers were from her shitty family and strange occurances, and frankly she only had one more good one.

"Holy shit! Bitchin...crap that must have hurt like fuck...you win i forfeit" she chuckles....cause her next one wasnt nearly as bitchin.

"look...heres my consilation scar though...
Pant leg lifted. scar fromunder her knee almost to the top of akilies tendon.
"that one was not as glamerous....had a guy think i was trickin on the street. i dont care what i gotta do to get money, but trickin aint one of them...i busted ass getting away, i aint gonna fight some fucker 2 times my size...so i ran like hell...jumped a fence...hello barbed wire...nice rip around my leg almost to the akillies. but i got away, he jumped it too, im smaller and quicker...he got the ol family jewels caught..
ahhh sweet irony"
she smiles...
and pauses..

ok ok and looks for the moment while she has the chance.
But its his back..(muscular back) he cant see her ogging as much....plus they had past the...teenage girl crush.... and she was much more comfortable with him..

he was good people...
And for once, she asks...
"dont got a place to crash tonight...think your pack will mind me taking up a corner...just for the night, i didnt get my normal money today...so i cant slum motel it tonight..and id rather skip the alley...but you can tell me naw, and ill take no offense"

(james)
"It almos' kill me."

it's a knowing smile, there, when he turns back around
some gremlin of information twinkling in the depths of the Ahroun's eye
he wonders, breifly, whether or not it's a piece of lore she possesses
he's well aware of what it takes for a scar to remain on Garou's flesh
quite literally something that takes them one step past Death's door
but isn't strong enough to keep their Rage from pulling them back to the Mother's War
it's the reason he bears so few scars towards tonight's game
though by all rights and mortal purposes, he should be a damned map of mangled skin

"Only oth'r I got a show's my jaw." head tips so fingers can trace down the rugged line of bone, stopping where smooth planes give way to the slightest of indentions which seems so menial on the outside, but anchors the collection of toughened fibers which infringe even the simplest of movements "'n the bran'." fingers drop to his chest, tapping the small, raised glyph burned onto his breastbone the night he became one of Eagle's own "No' sure'f they c'mpare a your tale'z."

he is a Garou - of course they do
he will see and survive such things as she has not yet learned to imagine
but that doesn't stop his downplaying his own marks to center the attention on Rumor
it is her game, after all

then the mighty Ahroun chuffs a scoffing laugh

"Hell kin'a BeeGee you think I am?" his expression maintains some element of mock offense - she's comfortable, and the showman in him can't resist throwing her off guard with imaginary dramatics "Momma Ruggs'd pick 'r ass up fr'm Alb'ny 'n walk all th' way ou' here'n KICK. MAH. ASS. a hear a such a thing."

she's fixed with what he can muster of a glare until the shock passes
cause James can't hold it - he's laughing

"Yeh, c'mon." t-shirt, pack of smokes, and Zippo's scooped off the bench as the Fostern rises, bottle aimed to sink into the garbage can's waiting maw (score!) and his head tips thattaway in lead "Gotta safe'ouse coupl'a block' 'way, gotta git a this week' job'n a few hour' an'way... you c'n take my bunk f'r th' nigh'."

(rumor)
almost killed him
Of course...most of the things a garou dealt with ended up with the words..almost killed me
His scars brutal..warrior battles...he is a Garou - of course they are

The scar game over...she gets up with him and gives him a nudge with her shoulder. May not be his style, touchy physical friendship..but if she felt comfortable with someone, she just was herself.
was the way it was...

"Safe house cool...anythin works for the night...i 'preciate it, usually i find a place...but it was much cooler talking to you then scoping a place to crash tonight.

twas your vacation, in terms used earlier...only a few hours, not the bahamas, and unpaid...but good for her...nonetheless.

"Funny how you talk about your mom...my mom coulda taken lesons..." she chuckles.
Fuck her mom.
Family...Family was what he said..and no she wasnt pack but yes she was family..and although curious and smartass like...she certainly wasnt stubborn in this case.

"works good for me, n i really appreciate everythin...was fun vacationin with ya Jukebox...n i hopeyou see tomorrow..."
a pause and now a quick joke.

"or for my benefit i hope i see you tomorrow" she chuckles.

"but by then im sure pimpleass will have found me and we'll be reeking haoc on the city" she laughs.

"if he doesnt kill me on that bike"
a pause she looks at him and chuckles...

The 15 year old ragamuffin packrat, kin who has a new sense fo something...she isnt sure what, but its definately something...

"Hey..." a pause.."n thanks for splaining shit to me, and talkin, and stuf,i dont get that much, n i appreciate it...

"Ok..im ready...lead the way and i will follow" she chuckles...
(that way i get one last good ass glance)
"watchin yer back and all" she laughs, the old joke returning.

and for once...
with someone other then Kemp.
She was comfortable.

Posted by james at May 19, 2004 12:00 AM