October 22, 2004.10.22.04. - tribal moot [city gnawers][ic room - tristan, ratchet, yuliya, primal, cooper, tesrin, annalia, steven]
(james)
the call went out days ago
word spread quickly amongst the jackal blooded
employing the varied, infamous methods of the Gnawer Grapevine
arriving by mouth, bark, howl, phone, paper airplane and smoke signal
there's probably even a message written in a pizza topping or
irregardless, the crux of the notation is the sameit's about high time Chicago's resident Gnawers got together for a private party
so as the sun considers setting against the city's skyline
a warehouse ages ago forgotten by anyone collecting property tax isn't so abandoned anymore
staked out long enough to know it's not included on The Man's nightly patrol
far enough from the more commonly populated industrial buildings to escape public notice
it seemed a fair enough location to hold a little shindigthere's an interesting pattern of rust by one of the back loading bay doors
Bone Gnawer glyph little more than a welcome sign etched into the aging metal
past the pried open Employees Only door lays a little caern of assorted trash
stockpile of leftover whatnottery that would mean precisely squat to a new lease resident
but it's sufficient enough to act as sign post for anyone "in the know"
neon sign equivalent to point the way towards the far side of the dark, cavernous building
another interesting pile of... stuff... sitting by the entrance to basement stairsonce in the subterranean storage area - the long empty building becomes a bit more inviting
old desks, chairs, and even the breakroom's sagging couch drug down below
placed in a..... vaaaaaguely organized pattern around an old metal barrel now employed as fireplace
(these are not your conventional singers of Kumbaya)
there was enough trash in and around the warehouse to guarantee warmth for the night
bomb-shelter-esque walls efficiently insulating the constantly radiating heat
firelight's flickering glow nicely complimented by Christmas lights hung for ambience
purple and orange zig-zags across the ceiling thanks to Wal*Mart's Halloween aisle
(What are you going to dress up as this year, Little Jimmy? - A werewolf.)
at the very least - it's quite a festive retreat from the approach of an Illinois wintera welcome one for right about supper time, too
there's a stack of pizza boxes on the table next to the fire drum
odd assortment of toppings for every palette arranged by the productivity of crank phone call
cooler on the floor holds the random collection of incomplete packs of soda and beer
there's even a half-keg sitting off to the wayside and it's a sure bet nobody would think to ask just how they got it
beat up boombox circa 1980 diligently pumping radio station's tunes from crackling speakers
classic rock's background noise just loud enough to be heard above the snap and pop of the fireand then there's James - Ahroun. Fostern. Eagle. Elderman.
calloused hands held above the flames to warm away finger's chills
features blushed orange and red within the dark shadows of dreadlock's frame
entire portrait blurred by the smoke coiling hazy curtain from the joint dangling out of his mouth
if it weren't for the air of Rank and unmistakable presence of invisable Rage
(not to mention the set design of corporate boardroom a la Junkyard Wars)
he'd just seem like some anonymous vagrant lucky enough to find shelter for the night(yuliya korjevna)
As it had before, somehow it makes it around to Yulya, interjecting itself like a nagging background thought on her otherwise normal life. Thats if you call smuggling, gun fights, and business normal. She does.It'd been a phonecall, one of those nifty little phones she'd sent the Eagles way awhile back still surviving somewhere with ehr number still preset in it just. in. case... and here was a good reason why. Few called unless they had a problem. This was the rare case of no problems to deal with.
She found the warehouse with ease. Not one she's ever used, but its not far from one she's... held metings in on occasion. Looks very much the same as the last time anyone's seen her. Lanky dark hairs a bit longer, leather jacket's still in one piece, or is that a new one? Just as heavy though. Black jeans and a dark polo style shirt under her jacket. Not trying to dress up though. It was for the straps coiling around her whipcord body holding multiple weapons in various places. Most? Unseen. She'd left the moon metal ones home though... no need amongst family or at least she was hoping.
Booted feet make themselves known as she headed down to the basement so subtly marked. Dark eyes taking in details, that edge of wariness to her because for all she knew this was some sort of elaborate trap... but likely not. It only kept her alive to assume everything might be a trap. Cigarette in her mouth as she came to stop seeing James. Nod up as a hello and she pried her leather gloves off her hands slowly.
"Gloves might help keep warm." Gesturing at him warming his hands with her cigarette leaving a smoketrail briefly in the chill air.
(cooper jones)
Cooper's one of the lucky ones, really. A nice, warm jacket, only second hand, gloves (can it really be this cold already? Not even Halloween yet . . .) fresh from the clearance rack at the local Wal*Mart, baggy clothes presentable, if not new, or fashionable.
Jackal's fortnate daughter
She arrives, empties one big, deep pocket (what other kind would any self respecting Gnawer have?) of more kinds of Halloween themed candy than you could shake a stick at (orange and black M&Ms in tiny boxes, individually wrapped Reese's Cups, etc.) onto whatever table happens to be holding food . . . and, onto whatever happens to be handy, another pocket is emptied of pairs of gloves (the stretchy kind, not the warmest, but better than nothing), socks, and a couple hats.
One for all, all for one
Sharing every everything and having a ball
Then, of course, she presses back into a corner, eyes constantly on the move, watching arrivals, interactions . . . ever observing, watching, judging. Never one to leap before she looks.(Tristan)
Some vagrants even have fan clubs. Sees the 'elderman' is one of them, as lanky form enters, following the clues easily enough through long practice - and he helped gather and arrange the things needed. Previously scheduled errand caused him to slip out, and now he slips in again. Tall, lean, strong in ways that are usually not seen, he passes behind James, affectionately reaching up past the rage and the ever so impressive air of rank to tug on a dread. "hey bro."And promptly scooting out of swiping range with a chuckle. He sets his violin down somewhere out of the way, so beloved baby is semi-protected, though the reinforced case is usually protection enough. A looooooooong inhale is appreciative of pizza's enticing scent, and the cooler is open and a beer grabbed. Right at home, for a pretty boi, ain't he?
(..ratchet..)
word came out. skinny runt and smallest gnawer [....in homid, anyway...] responded. skinny runt skirts through shadow, keeping to edges as finding little clues to where meeting is. ragged nails dig and neck, at hip. pull black knit hat down over ears, firmly - green alien head on front a little more dingy now. coat of many pockets, but only one color [dirty] flares against ankles as hunched form skitters through to the meeting place.sound arrives before near silent runt. steady clickclick of favored tool and namesake in hand. flash of silver, hidden again. in other hand, clutched close, little froggie beanie. gift from elderman. treasured. pockets in coat of many bulge with other treasures.
hesitation. head cants, sharp. animalistic. watching. pretty one. elderman. food. [belly rumbles]. favored tool disappears briefly, hand dips into random pocket, and around edges skitters little runt, and to pile of pizza boxes added little foil bags, individual snack sized goldfishes.
[the snack that smiles back. until you bite they're heads off.]
Russian girl is there now. little runt scurries behind the barrel [warmth] to settle in comfortable [comforted] crouch at elderman's feet. safety here. little green froggy finds place on tattered jean covered knee. favored tool falls into hand. little runt watches. silent.
(tesrin)
*He found out...through the pack probably. He shows up with about 4 sweatshirts on under his jacket, and a flannel as well. Sweat pants on under his jeans. He was a migratory bird that's gotten grounded in snow country, and he WASNT happy. He was COLD. He didnt like cold. But over his shoulder is a garbage bag, it doesnt look too heavy, not too lumpy either, but it rustles a lot when he moves it. Plops it down near the pizzas and opens to reveal what musta been over stock or some such. CHIPS! Potato, dorito, tortilla, corn, multigrain. You name it, He scrounged it up. Grabs a bag of Harvest Cheddar SunChips and 2 slices of pizza, a can of soda and struggles to carry it all to some accomidationg couch and flops down, busy stoking his furnace with food for the moment. He was burning calories way too fast in the cold weather, he was even losing weight...what little he had to lose. It was too damn COLD!*(james)
"Pfft."the scoff comes out of a humored smile on latest lungful of smoke
aromatic tang of his far more scandalous than what coils from her own fag's trail
humor shining in the wrinkles surrounding dark eyes that lift to Yuli's arrival"Then I woul'n' get tha' natch'rul hick'ry smoked flava."
the raggedyman had only recently finished assuring the place was comfortable
the little candle sitting in a car corner twirls a little sootsinge trail
in the fire's coil vented through some trick of mickey moused central air circulation
it's just-blown-out evidence lost within the harsher smell of burning trash
Rite of the Cardboard Palace only just now coming into it's intended effectiveness
but soon enough the basement is warm enough for James to be comfortable as clothed
wifebeater bearing enough skin for grime smudges from dirty furniture to shadow his tat
deep greyly brown smears echoing tribal swirls iridescent black on inner forarmchin lifts Eagle style greeting as others trickle in - most he knows, already one still stranger
it's the glance down at ratchet which saves his brother more than a sideward glare
maybe the curl of approaching growl finds his lip as the joint's plucked away
roll of Mary Jane offered to the Siberian - a lopsided smile for the skinny runt, instead"Hung'ry?"
the others confident enough to know to help themselves
Tesrin's initiative awarded flickering glance of approval
but he knows the metis young'n well enough to start off with query(yuli)
"If you say so." She smirks. Its not even a full smirk, as if lips rarely curl upwards to that degree enough to really remember smiles of any form. She manages, and it just looks that edge less then cocky. Eyes follow the other's movements as she waves of James's offer silently seeing some she knew, and some she didn't. If they were there and James hadn't pounced one then she was trusting them to be family."Got case vodka in car nearby... no drink shitty American beer if help... anyone interested?" Her Russian accent thick as she finished off the cigarette and actually kept mouth clear of a chain of them for the time being. She unzipped the jacket, which showed some of the scar left in ugly relief on her chest before tnk top concealed, as well as numerous straps crisscrossing for her weaponry. [Don't leave home without it. Who knew when some rival would be dumb enough to jump.]
((Tristan)
Oh he KNOWS that growl that was almost leveled his way, and just grins in the face of the glare. Incorrigable, he is. And hungry. as always. Beer opened, and he takes a few swigs, before grabbing a couple slices of pizza, and with a smile to ratchet, grabs not one, but TWO of the snack sized packs of goldfishes. "My favorite. Thanks!" tossed her way, before he finds a spot and cops a squat.Commence inhalation.
(..ratchet..)
'nother one comes in. gets wary stare, before elderman speaks and dark eyes lift [and lift and lift. short at best, crouched makes for even smaller target.] nose wrinkles, slight, head ducks, before little nod.voice soft, barely travels. "ratchet always hungry." to Jo's never ending amazement, ratchet out-eats all of them, and searches for more, though none could tell by painfully skinny form under rags. ragged nails dig at shoulder, under chin, behind ear before stills again. dark eyes watch scary one open coat. own tattered warmth pulled closer, even as area warms under rite. little smile - steven teached her that one too.
(tesrin)
*The pizza is quickly but neatly inhaled, the soda gone, he grabs the bag of chips and stands, moving to a back wall to start shedding a few layers of shirts down to a worn thin black long-john shirt. Shoes are kicked off, instead of shedding a pair of jeans. Leaves his stuff in a pile against the wall and moves back to relax in a chair near the fire, murmuring to himself* That's better. *before looking around at those assembled*(cooper)
She's met almost all of them but the Russian girl (she knows the language, can hear the accent, even place it to the appropriate region with little trouble), or, well, at least she's met them. But, Cooper's a little . . . not shy, exactly, just quiet and reserved. So, a few moments of watching
You can learn more interesting things about people that way . . .
she moves back to the table and claims a piece of pizza of her own, avoiding the smell of smoke
How they can stand it is beyond me.
as much as possible, yet managing to keep her nose smooth and unwrinkled in the presence of the Elder and his friend, at least, if no one else . . . though, always, one would have the feeling they were being weighed by those hazel eyes, and would never be certain which way the scale tipped.
Chin's jerked up in an Eagles-esque hello, though she learned the gesture here, in the streets of ghetto Chicago, long before she knew the Eagles existed, or what she was, or that there was any such thing as a pack that wasn't automatically a gang, in the worst sense of the word. Smiles (or at least the slight curling up of lips in more than a smirk) for Tristan (so pretty), Ratchet (so not) and Tesrin, and she slips back, on the edges looking in.(tesrin)
*yawns and rubs his face, wonders if he's gonna end up speaking up, or if there was still more showing up.*(james)
Yuliya declines, act accepted with acknowledgement's nod
the instinct to share from blood and camp more than thinking she'd actually accept
her refusal mirrored in a shake of dreadlocked head
brow lifting as if to silently ask What, you think my slur isn't bad enough already??so, the Ahroun keeps up with traditional rotation
offering the smoking joint to anyone that's interested
likely there's more where that came from
(What... a Hood arriving without enough for all?)
however it's importance surely secondary to the veritable feast of scavenged food"'Nuff there a letcha have one all a y'rself." chin lifts as encouraging wave, battlehardened Fullmoon's smile is ever-crooked but always kind towards Ratchet "Go'n. Help y'rself wi' th' res'. Ev'rybody's sharin' w'th ev'ryone else 'n won' mine."
Steven and Jo taught the whipthin runt quite a bit about Garou society
far be it from the Elder to not continue her education with tidbits of expectations in the Gnawer social strata
that she arrived without her counterparts a commendable act all its own
once everybody's seemingly settled with food or spot to squat
his attention turns back to the group
gaze traveling as he speaks to respectfully acknowledge them all"Thanksss f'r ans'rin my call. Oth'rs'll come lat'r, 'n y'r free a leave wh'en ya wish. F'r those tha' dunn know me at all, 'r jus' not well, name's Jamesss Brans'on, known a th' Nation a Jukebox 'r Drums-'n-Skulls, Fos'rn Ahroun a Eaglesss Pack 'n City Eld'r. Our ranks in th' city haven' met since 'fore we raise th' Caer', 'n I think it was 'bout time a make up f'r th' slack. Only purpose 'z a make strange face'z f'miliar, tell th' stories tha' haven' been heard, 'n speak y'r mind 'bout whatev'r dunn get a voice a' th' Sep' moots." muscular shoulders roll in a shrug as he reaches to steal the joint back from Tristan - stickler for protocol James ain't, and it shows in the casual grin now turned back to his Family "Spotligh's y'rs."
(yuli)
Not that she'd travelled without a bit of her own anyways... well more then her own... as she peels back jacket more to pull a few bottles from within. Lesson from Sputnik well remembered. No self respecting member of his family went anywhere without some vodka close to hand. She settles on a couch after having left some of the vodka for free for all and snagged some pizza. A long drink and she ate rather... well quiet, controlled... not so much mannered as cleanly. She was an odd one at times, with her mix of expensive toys and streetwear, clean, usually neat and fairly cold.She ate slowly, listening to James as he talked. She thought her English was bad... and grinned a bit at the thought. Dark eyes went around to see who wanted to go next.
(Tristan)
What, the pretty boy turn down the J when it makes it's way to him? Not on your life. He's done playing for the evening, and thus doesn't need to worry about remaining coherent enough to run complicated fingerings to impress the masses braving the cold to throw a coin or two his way.Takes, inhales....
and lets it be stolen. Stand on ceremony? Not likely. "Think I know just about all ya - if not, I'm James' bro, kin and all around pretty errand boy. If we haven't met and you've a contact number, I'd appreciate it. Keep my 'best networked kin' rank up there and all. You can find me easy - just listen for the violin."Grins, and waits patiently for that J to come back. Pizza slices? gone.
(..ratchet..)
head ducks. shy. little grin though as he says she gets one all her own. takes moment, still, before skinny runt darts to the food, grabs a box, actually peeks inside, and puts it aside to grab another.skinny runt makes a choice of toppings, instead of taking what's left over. sometimes, the little changes are monumental.
box chosen, soda taken, and quick glance at pretty on sees what kind beer he drinks, a mirror bottle added to a coat in pocket, and hunched skinny form returns to chosen place. beer reappears, offered up to elderman with grubby fingers. figure he drink same as his brother. only when taken, is the box at her feet opened, and piece of pepperoni goodness devoured
(cooper)
"Cooper."
Quiet, no quaver in her voice at all, full of a confidence most her age don't feel, can't even feign. And her accent is Cockney (or stereotypical poor British, for those less educated in such things), if slowly being taken over by Chicago.
"Walks Alone, Philodox, Cliath, sans pack."
No unneeded words, all clipped and probably as close to formal as any here are likely to come. And she gives Tristan her number (unable to stop the hormonal teenager's imaginings of what she'd do if he called her - but it only lasts for a moment); it's better to be easily gotten a hold of, after all, than to be left out in the cold on everything.(tesrin)
*when the joint moves his way he doesnt even take it, waves it on to the next person. In fact, he sits on the far side of the fire from it. All he needs now is a drug induced siezure. That wouldnt be good, no telling how long it would last. Waves a hand in the air when there's a pause* Tesrin "Treks-the-Tracks" Timov, Mediator, Cliath. *scribbles his number down on a random piece of paper relatively clean, folds it into a paper airplane and sends it toward Tristan*((I know he's a prospective member for a pack, but for the life of me cant remember which one))
(james)
dreads shift on his shoulders
unsettled by each nod or turn towards the one speaking
rotation course altered by those noted as skipping their hit
in fact.... it seems like it's just down to himself and the prettyboi
more than enough there for both these lightweights
so once it's reduced to a roach Tristan sacrifices to the gods
he doesn't bother digging another out of his stash
that there beer ("Thank'.") should keep the buzz going quiiiite nicely
fortunately, the raggedyman's taking it slow enough to keep his slur to a minimumhis vocabulary and command of the English language may be collegiate
but that means squat when you can't say something others understandthree down, two to go
dark eyes shift to ratchet and Yuliya
waif getting a miniscule nod of encouragement
she made a personal choice already with the pizza
is she confident enough to choose going first?(yuli)
"Yulya." It rolls off the tongue eliminating a vowel or two in the speaking of. A bite of pizza taken, relaxed as much as she gets these days where she sits and smirk reappears."You need, I can probably get... but work best in weapons." That gleam in ehr eyes unmistakable, but then she's wearing a portion of her personal arsenal just to go out. Tells so many truths probably, as do the scars.
One hand gestures vaguely towards James as she washes pizza down with a long pull of vodka. "Friend of James..." the last bit about a lack of spice and alcohol tolerance left off. Tahts her private joke. It's a memory for her and James alone.
Camaderie.
(tristan)
He takes the number from cooper, [and even winks at the teenage girl. No need to dash her dreams just yet, hm?] then he pulls out his phone and adds the info to the digital display. Fingers reach up and snatch the paper airplane out of the air - or tries, fails, and gets it the second time around, and Tesrin's number is added too.Takes the joint he does, and sacrifices it appropriately, before settling back to listen, for now. He does snag some more pizza, and continues to munch comfortably, after shedding his jacket - James' gift making it nicely toasty here.
(Ratchet)
glance up at elderman, then down again. and lips open to speak - but Yulia beats her. better probably. dark eyes peek around, see she is last, and little voice somehow manages to carry to all. "ratchet. no moon bg, runt of whirlwind. sister of steven and jo."and quickly begin to inhale another slice, careful to not drip on the frog, or mar the shiny goodness of favored tool - the only thing about her consistently cleaned.
(tesrin)
*ok, he's had enough sitting in the sagging, though comfy, chair, gets up and ambles over to grab another 2 pieces of pizza and another soda. Gotta stock up for the night. He'd moved his stuff inside simply cause his tent was NOT a barrier against cold!*(james)
again, that approving smile
even if the chilly kinswoman beat her to it
these humble beginnings of confident initiative rewarded in kind
not enough to draw attention to it
but just what's needed to show her he noticed. approves. appreciates.
then the curved lips widen before a rumbling chuckle
thumb hooking towards Yuli's declaration"Wom'n's a damn arm'ry." and more than likely, the Ahroun knows it's literal as well as a figurative description of ability "Tris' networ' op'rat'r, 'n ratch't there c'n fix most a wha' she get' 'er han's on. Wha' 'bout you?"
chin lifts up towards both Tesrin and Cooper
not so much a demand as option to provide as they see fit
primary stages of securing the city's network of the Tribe
simply finding out who's best to go to for what need(yuli)
Her smirk to James' description and eyebrows wiggle some. her mood always tends to improve around family these days. She saw them or anyone of the Gaian persuasion infrequently afterall. Someone had once remarked she seemed more Glasswalker then BoneGnawer with her setup and accessibility... hell she ran weapons online as well as through more standard means.Her attention shifts to Tesrin whom she remembered as fairly interesting and Cooper who was little more then a name to a face right now, listening as she drank her way steadily through that bottle of vodka in her hand. Pizza gone for a little bit now.
(tesrin)
I'm good at scavanging up just about anything a body could need, and, if I do say so myself, I do modest sketchwork. If I see a face, I can remember it for years and draw it. Or do what some cops do, draw pictures from someone's description. Its a...composite drawing?(Tristan)
He stretches out comfortably, long legs crossed at the ankle, body reclining easily in chosen spot as he listens. There's no lack of confidence here, and he can't help but laugh at the assessment of Yulia. "Amen to that - could have used your talents a couple weeks go, but we'll leave that for story time." All part of the "bunch of kin are sent into a club" storyline.(ratchet)
head ducks, shy, at the praise. approval of elderman means almost as much as approval of steven.[sometimes more. not tell steven that. elderman elder man though. maybe not more - just different.]fingers touch bracelet - charm looks like - under coat. ratchet bits. for favored tool. has two now, one from elderman's alpha. both treasured. flash of silver, and slow clickclickclick when fixing things mentioned. before tucked away for another pizza. glace at scary one, and tesrin. Information filed away, silent and quick.
(james)
pizza's steadily disappearing into the bottomless pits known as Gnawer stomachs
and just as Yuliya's Siberian chill warms in the company of the jackal's blood
a shift comes over James' battle-ready shield to show true personality sheltered beneath
(packed up with a bunch of insane Get, didn't have a choice there, didya, Jamey-boy)
that easygoing, mellow Hood who one day just up and took a trip out of Albany
wonder if he should regret never looking back...though presently, he's assuring his Tribemates will spend tonight with full, warm bellies through little expense of their own, and that's more than enough for him
others need - a Hood provides"Yeh." confirming word to definition without having to actually say it "'tween th' three a ya looks li'e we c'n get jus' 'bout whatev'r we'd need."
a bit of stating the obvious, perhaps, this confirmation of information
also works to discreetly communicate the Ahroun's decree all Gnawers should, and will, work together
a resourceful pack all their own in the midst of the city's separate little clubs
just cause they're the Omega Tribe doesn't mean they can't step up to the line when it counts
better yet the secondary level of dependability for those times packs proper just aren't around
the competitive dramatacism of the other Tribes is just something he won't tolerate
after all, they have to struggle enough as it isafter Cooper's say, his own "talents" aren't added, verbally
(I can break shit real good, uh huh)
partially due to the simple fact he's the ranking Elder
he has to be able to do whatever is asked
or at the very least locate the capable sourcenod up towards his prettyboi brother
might as well shift gears and keep things moving
Gaia forbid this begin to resemble a Sept moot with bureaucratic hoops torturing everyone to tears
(yuli)
"You have number. Can always call." She liked a good fight and gunning down the occasional scumbag in Chicago was not as taxing as the fomori and Bsd she's faced at other times. Looking death in the face and surviving, like a good little persistent pest she is, was more satisfying at the end of the day when she came back to the empty apartment to review more orders and meetings.The jacket was finally slid off as she grew warmly uncomfortable in it... the hidden padding within it that resisted bullets made it not fun in warm places too. Now the two guns she wore to either side revealed as well as a few throwing knives on ehr arms. As well as the hiden peak of somethings claw scars at her back and side before tank and jeans took over covering duty.
(Tristan)
He chuckles and nods back. "Did call - got the machine. And that storytime would be now, I guess. I got a call from the bigwigs at the Caern, they needed a bunch of kin to go into the Excaliber - seemed one of you furry types fucked up and shifted inside. They dealt with him, but well - they had him on tape. Just me and a bunch of girls - sent a buncha woman to do a mans job, they did." No doubt he includes himself in that women's work - sorry, Cooper.but the grin never fades, as fingers slide through mass of corkscrew curls before letting them fall again. "Made it inside, the fang kin created a diversion - started a cat fight right there on the dance floor, it was fuckin beautiful... specially as one was as uptight a fang as you'd ever seen... the other was a fianna, and held her own, but that fang, damn impressive. - and I tried everything from hitting on the bartender to sneaking inside. Made it to the security office - and had to pull the cardinal gnawer sin as my own diversion to get outside - I tossed my recently devoured dinner all over his feet. Got the tape though, and everyone escaped and had a good laugh at my expense after - specially James there. "
Shoulders shrug - that's his story and he's sticking to it. "Next time I'll make sure to call you in, Yulia, so we've got a real stud to do all the dirty work." Teasing grin, and mock duck out of her swiping range.
(ratchet)
she listens to story, brow furrowing. makes note to ask steven later what excaliber is. pizza steadily disappearing, going, going gone. greasy fingers wipe over jeans that have seen better days, and soda opened and down. no cherry pies - but steven bring some when he gets here.she scratches under jaw, over shoulder again. then eyes are drawn to yulia when coat comes off. eyes widen, and shifts just -that- much closer to elderman. fingers dip in pockets. find latest trinket working on, and soon little monotonous hum wavers very, very softly under breath as ratchet falls into hand, and begs work on the small... music box? now set on top of the empty pizza box.
(yuli)
"Cuz I so studly, da?" She flexes her arms and does show off the subtle lines of well toned musculature there... but then she's keeping herself in good shape as best she can between drinking, smoking and bouts of junk food. That is followed by a throaty chuckle and she digs into one of the many pockets of her jacket to pull out the cheap pack of Camel cigarettes that are tonight's nicotine of choice. Bic lighter employed and she had a a long lunful go smoke to contemplate for a few minutes. Only juuuuust catching Ratchet's shying towards James. Not that it bothered her... she had a reputation of sorts in places, even being only kin.(primal)
The air is a little crisp, like tasting a sheet of flavoured ice on a winter morning. You know, Mum always tossed some sugar'd kool-aid in the snow to let it freeze over, then frozen puddles of cherry yum-yum for a tasty and cheap little treat. Ghetto desserts were all the rage....But yes, crispy was the word. Crispy and cool, frost decorating the digit tips and the inconsistent presence of a white mist emanating from a warm (RageFlameFireBeastBreathRuckusRipTearHowl...) body. The rustic doors and portals in the way, are shoved aside with that over-exaggerated ease that comes with trying (Read: Trying) to be gentle. The grind and creak and groans of protest from various doorways and access ramps, leading into the building. Finally, a flight of stairs and some Human noise to join the conflagration of dysfunctional engineering.
The thump thump thump of boot heels, grinding against the stairs. A silhouette bleeding into the firelight, yet failing to cross the grime line, appears inside the doorway.
Draped in rags, old and new, stitched together haphazzardly by anything usable (From wire, to string to rope to even some patchwork sewing) dangling down to a pair of well-worn and bleach lined hard-toe boots. Reaching up to a few inches over 6 feet, though the shoulders look a bit hunched and the features cast in shadow from the many-layered hood. He stops inside the portal leading inward, the hood turning to regard the four walls of the room, then ceiling to floor and finally the congregated mess of Rabble that is Family.
"...Th'z tha' part'e?"
An unmistakable waver of something (Red. Sharp. Stabby. Dark. Harsh. Snarling. Gaping. Awesome. Terrific. Forceful.) dances forward, as if to bleed from beneath all those rags and seep into the room to get a feel. A taste for all those within. Unmistakable Rage, clinging desperately to the newly entered body.
"...Nam's Primal."
Simple. Right.
(tesrin)
*waves a hand from his now way too comfortable chair. Over by the pizza boxes, soda, beer and sundries is his contrabution, a garbage full of various kinds of chips of all brands, munches on SunChips*(james)
Yuliya isn't the only attending with clawmark scars worn as medals
the ashed black ridges of gnarled skin cover his back from shoulders to waist
dark shadows beneath the stretch of wifebeater's fairly thin fabric
lanky mane of dreads luckily covering anything that creeps out from beneath itratchet's initial shift catches the raggedyman's attention
soon as he can feel Primal thumpthumpthumping down the steps
..... not to hard to anticipate what's going to happen next
weight shifts between the Ahroun's dully shined Corcoran's
long and lean frame arranged - subtly - into a more convincing position of "shelter"
she's no reason to hide from Family
but he'll still give her an invisable wall to put her back to"Make y'rsel' a' home." nod up for a greeting and salutory gesture, the invitation to browse the cornecopia of the jackal blooded's spoils of scrounging war spread over one table - pizza, chips, soda, beer, and enough halloween candy to give them all static shock "Know ev'rybody?"
it's amazing the amount of translations there can be for a simple nod up
this next one silently asking Yuliya to bum a smoke
since she's got her pack out and everything(Tristan)
Oh good god almighty. That's a wall of rage, and recognition flickers in dark eyes, lips curving to a smile as he lifts a hand and waves at Primal. "Heya."And he's laughing at Yulia, while digging out his own pack and beat up lighter, lighting a cigarette before checking to see if Yulia shares before tucking his pack away again. What - give her something to 'throw' at him? no way. "Damn straight, your studly woman. Instead of a cat fight we'd have had an all out brawl...
(Ratchet)
Yulila might have noticed only barely that little lean.but then there's primal. met once, scared much, but held on without being embarrassing. mostly. but the sound of clumps gets skinny runt to all out lean against elderman's leg. hands that work over little bits and bobs of the music box steadily coming apart and being put back together on the pizza box before her feet fall completely still. tremble. dark eyes dare peek up at Primal, then slam down again.
everyone rhya to ratchet.
slight shiver through body. its easy enough to see he scares her. but most things do. Elderman creates wall of safety, and it soaks through skinny runt, until hands begin to move again. slow, first, then steady, confident in the gears and bits and pieces of machinery in front of her. ratchet fix anything - cept being scared.
(yuli)
"Mhmm... brawl can be good, Tristan. I think you need good brawl or ten, da?" She winks, some, that accent thick, that English scttered badly. Only some know she does it on purpose as the whim takes her.She tosses her pack of cigarettes James' way as she turns to regard Primal with an nearly nonchalant air... odd for kinfolk but she's never been as bothered by Garou as many others. Call it that bitchy spunk she has. "Pass around James. I have more." She always does. Yulya was good for many things from money to cars.
"Yulya... not met you before." Half nod of greeting to Primal before her vodka bottle was tipped back for a healthy shot straight down. Drank like a pro and even now, seemed unaffected.
(tesrin)
*glances at the newcommer and just...stares, for a long moment. Jeeze! good thing Rin wasnt the nervous type. Crunch, munch, goes the chips, bag's almost gone*(primal)
He offers James a cursory nod of respect/greeting. Nothing definable as a "Good morrow Elder. What a fine ass you've got. Do you mind if I pucker or shall I simply plant?" but something along the lines of "Hey".The collected pile of three years past fashion scraps, wanders through the doorway slowly, allowing the Curse time to spread without shock or speed, least some get the jitters or jumps-
(A pair of eyes dance from 'neath the hood, leaping from beneath the shadow of the cowl to catch Ratchet's face hidden with deft ease, behind James. A wink is offered without the smile to make it appeasing, before-)
-Hard clumps of laceless boots on the ground, the Ahroun settles onto his haunches before the offerings, hand slipping free of the mountain of rags to plunk down a rather large bottle of Beer. A 40, the neck cracked and fractured, the label peeled and picked away to reveal nothing but the amber (colour of the bottle) beneath.
"...B'n a'bit busy. 'no a few bu'tha majer'ty jus' a bunch a fac's look'n fer nam's..."
A return greeting tossed in Tristan's direction, the large Ahroun seeming to cater more towards caution then any semblance of warmth or familiarity in this current situation, before turning firmly to regard Yuliya. Dark eyes under a hard cowl, stare quite openly at the russian.
Silent, a hand, half paused, over the pizza boxes laid out and open for perusal.
(james)
pack's caught, stick that will never be cancerous to James pulled out and lit
scissored between index and middle finger, it becomes a smoking pointer
box held up with his other hand in offer and tossed to whomever signals batter up
lanky guttermutt sinking to crouch just behind the trembling waif
negligent gesture towards both food and group leaving a trail of haze"You too, 'uh?" now there's a lopsided smirk gone wry "Fig'r'd nametags a be bit too form'lly AA f'r this bunch. Prim'l? Meet'cher Ch'cago Fam'ly."
each left to introduce themselves however best
his gaze drops when free hand finally settles lightly across hunched shoulder"'ey." nothing more than a murmur for Ratchet "Ge'me tha' bag a Starburs'?"
she may not be able to fix being scared
but she can sure find a way around it
since.... that bag's about six inches away from one open pizza box(yuli)
Her attention came back around to Primal as his stare sank into her. She just stared back smile fading a touch for some measure of puzzlement. "What?"She took another long pull of her vodka, neartly done with that bottle [liquid diet] and shifted a bit on the couch where she was sitting to watch this newcomer more. She'd already introduced herself... to a degree. Last names weren't as importnt typiclly anyways.
(ratchet)
little trembles still find way through hunched shoulders. other then steven and jo, elderman only one ever let close. crouch behind a beacon of safety, a wash of rage. strength. all things ratchet not. little runt relaxes little, soothed by fingers steady work while still listens.jumps little when hand falls on shoulder, dark eyes snapping up, before relax instant. old habits. little murmur, and gaze slowly shifts toward starburst. to primal. to elderman.
never say no to elderman.
swallow audible to those close nuff, fingers tighten round favored tool, knuckle white, even as little frame unfolds, slow. nother swallow, quick glance, and skinny runt moves away from safe haven toward pile of food and mountain of rage. dark eyes flick toward Primal, before grubby fingers tipped with ragged nails snap out and grab back of starburst.[cringe]
then turn and scurry back to safety of Elderman's shadow, offering him snatched prize with little [shy]grin. knows why made her go. little, shy, scared - but smart.
(annalia branson)
Barking Chains. Grapevines. Kinfolk Network. Somebody knew someone that was related to this person, who fucked those bitches on South street, near so n so’s crib. Word just magically had a way of getting around to the right ear eventfully. Like most women, fashionably late was a typical thing, but it wasn’t exactly considered late for this kinfolk to finally arrive at her final destination. The first pit stop in her schedule of late night parties, most clubs didn’t even start hopping until midnight.The heavy clomp of platform boots scrape echo in the girl’s wake, the warehouse strewn out before her as she came upon the door. A slender hand, bound in fishnet raised up to brush the heavy mane of wild hair from her face, flipping thick fiery-red and violet-plum tendrils against her back. That hand drops back down into the warm pocket of her stylish pimp coat. A dark purple cordoray jacket that looked like it was made from somebody’s couch. Old and well-worn with use.
She slips inside the warehouse after locating the door, dark green tinted lashes flutter against bright, honey-brown eyes, which flicked over the interior and to those gathered about.
(primal)
Primal's stare lasted for another (some would say awkward, obssessive, inclined, uncomfortable or even daring) moment, the shadows beneath the cowl presenting little but those dark eyes in pools of bloodshot white. Unblinking. Then-"Scars. Nice."
-And he turns to regard James pointing and introduction of the 'Fam', the Ahroun's multi-layered head bobbing in greeting to the surrounding. A following glance keeps with Ratchet throughout her adventure to the Starburst bag, before lifting to offer Tesrin a nod that flows into a shimmy of a twitch. As if something pent-up were looking to release. The layers shake and quiver like some giant gelatinous dessert for a split instant, before stilling once more, a huff of breath escaping the hood. The motion has him paused, as if frozen by some poor reception or a bad VCR remote with crossed-wires. So much so, he has little notice of the Newcomer upon entrance.
In fact, little movement or mention comes from the sudden trash heap of clothing, settled onto the floor. A poke or prod couldn't make it through those layers to check but words-
"...So wha' tha' 'ell's be'n go'n on 'n tha' cit'e lat'ly?"
A casual asking for recent events, threats, dangers and delights.
(tesrin)
*burning energy before getting here, stocking up on stomach filling pizza and chips, he gets somnelant in the heat and falls asleep in his comfy chair*(tesrin)
*burning energy before getting here, stocking up on stomach filling pizza and chips, he gets somnelant in the heat and falls asleep in his comfy chair*(Tristan)
Long inhale, slow exhale, curls are now wreathed in grayish plume. He watches James with ratchet, and the resulting scurry, grab, return and just grins. James is damn good with just about everyone - even he wouldn't have been able to connect with the little metis so well. Goodnatured grin lifts to meet Annalia as she enters. "Evening."Now there's someone who would have fit well in the club situation, hm? James may be PR for the Eagles when tris isn't around, but Tris tends to make himself known as the same with prettyboi friendliness. "Come on in- food on the table, drinks in the cooler. Ain't seen ya around before - new in town?"
Figure she's family of some sort to have gotten word - might as well take the step that see's her introducing herself, right?
(yuli)
"Weapon move as usual. Not killed too many lately. Big bore." She affects a yawn dramatically to show how boring and then smirks. Smirks and gathers up her leather jacket, that heavier then it should be lined coat and slips it on over scars and weapons alike."Da scars... I like. They remind me." Of why she is where she is now, laid out in marks on her body. She slides off the couch in loose easy agility and gives a wave.
"Got meeting. Give call if need something. You know I good for most anything." And heads for the door out, Annalia given a glance and nod up {heya] as she makes her exit.
(anna)
The color green carried a theme in her make up, splashing across her lips in a shiny metallic color and shadowing her eyes, haloed by the heavy eyeliner of typical gothic design. The rest of her attire, a basic black; long skirt gathered to the calf and a velveteen shirt over a fishnet one. Hands snake out of coat pockets to adjust a black strap across her chest to attach to a messenger bag.“I assume the party is either ending or just getting started. Give or take the designated time of arrival,” a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. The faint chime of invisible bells jingle in the mass of hair, tiny chimes woven into little braids peeking out every now and then with her head movements.
She walks away from the door, folding her arms across her chest, eyes on Tristan as he greeted her. “Not really…” a slight shake of her head at his question, “I’m local.”
There is acknowledgement of Yuliya’s presence. Her departure at Annalia’s arrival, the slight uplift of her chin tilted in a small nod, returned, as if to say ‘Night.’ Attention drawn back to the remaining family.
(james)
never say no to the elderman
how dirty of a trick was it for James to use that knowledge
was it sending the poor girl out to walk the plank
or showing her how to properly carry the cutlass
none but the Elderman will know what that test entailed
and perhaps those two will be the only that understand its lesson"Thanksss kiddo."
warm approval in smokey tones aimed down at trembling crouch
though the cavalier grin finds its way back topside"Eh... defeatin' evil, curin' the sick, turnin' wat'r inna wine....."
whatever his lips shaped to form as next quip gets distracted
first, by the departure of the scarred Siberian
second, by the arrival of.... Rainbow Brite?
both, regardless, get the same nod up
dark eyes following their newest companion"Nuh." there's a Yankee accent somewhere beneath that slur, really "Keep'n' i' sorta low key... Friday nigh', cops 'r out, all tha'. Gotta name, Loc'l?"
dreadlocked raggedyman seems friendly enough, doesn't he?
(ratchet)
warmth spreads from voice to cover little runt. who glances at starburst bag. then up. "ratchet like cherry ones...." barely said to elderman. whether hint or outright request is left for interpretation.dark eyes shift to watch anna. even dares little grin as turns to hide face against elderman just enough to dare whisper only he can hear. "she same color as ratchets vespa!"
then duck head to watch fingers that work on the little music box and all it's pieces spread on top of empty pizza box.
(Tristan)
He arches a brow - odd, he usually finds them first. But He doesn't say anything, as his bro takes over. He waves as Yulia makes her exit. "I'll call next time, studly." the goodbye offered with a chuckle, before he nods to Primal. "Same shit different day, still playing, still teaching, still working. There's a bit of work being done riverside - need people to swing hammers, if your interested."Cryptic enough until Anna introduces herself, hm?
(annalia)
Rainbow Brite flashes that green smile towards the Raggedy, Dreadlocked Jesus Christ. “I’d ask the same question of ya’selves. Word gets around of private shindig up in this district…” a pause, shifting her eyes over James. She looked young, barely weaned into adulthood with the fire of adolescence brimming in her eyes.“Annalia Branson of the East Coast Bransons Bronx side before transplanting mah ass Southside in Chicaga,” her first reply directed towards James, before tilting her head to look at Tristan. “The only hammers I swing are ones that don’t involve physical labor. Just movers and shakers.”
(stephen card)
*Footsteps above. Approaching the door. A pause and then the door creeks open. Decending sounds on the steps. Clomp clomp clomp. Clompclomp, hop, land. Turning and stepping into the light. A slender young man, with a flowing grace that seems to come with in. He's dressed in black lace up boots, black cargo pants with... neon green buttons on the pockets. A chain heading to a wallet that's usually empty because he gives Jo and Alex all his cash, a black bowling style button up shirt with more neon green buttons. A "G'G'" Over the pocket and a large Alien head in neon green on the back. His hair is sandy blond and could use a trim under a matching ballcap that has the same Alien head on it and 'Galacto Gas' around it. Lastly there is a pair of crome dogtags around his neck. Apperently he just came from a job.*(james)
"Good. Som'ne's gotta eat'm."after calloused fingers tear open the plastic bag
handful of cherry flavored candies are dropped into ratchet's hand
several more of the other tastes taken for himself and the bag's offered aroundbrow most certainly lifting as Rainbow Brite pipes up name, rank, and serial number
he doesn't move from where all six foot two of him's crouched behind the musicbox fixing girl
attention suddenly focused raptor sharp on Annalia
that would be an incredible amount of Ahroun Rage suddenly pinpointed
fortunately his surprised curiosity tempers it" Ya dunn say...." low chuckle rumbles muted thunder out of his chest "Got fam'ly 'n Alb'ny?"
not quite introducing himself just yet
halfwave turned direction towards the table of food greeting Stephen past the door
(.... oh... this should be rich)(anna)
The observant creature would take notice of the wide berth of space that is kept between this kinfolk and the rest of the group. Her eyes dart over people, mostly the garou types, and sweep away before she could hold stern eye contact.The burning sensations of rage subconsciously makes her keep her place away from them. Annalia is aware of the animalistic ferocity that makes skin crawl beneath the layers of clothes. She’s just hiding it rather well, for now. Her tongue flicks out over her bottom lip, wetting it. Curiosity doesn’t allow her to keep her gaze away from all of them, it gnaws at the back of her mind as she roams her eyes over the people again. Drinking in their looks, attitudes, body languages, before pausing for several minutes over Primal.
James snares the girl’s attention with his comment, she returns her eyes to him, leveling them on his face, more like his nose and not the eyes. “I’ve got family just about everywhere from what I’m told. Manhattan to Albany to Bronx,” shrugging her shoulders to shake off a small shiver which results from the Ahroun’s tempered rage. “Nobody believes in birth control.”
(tristan)
Brows lift, and he glances at James, hiding his chuckle. Long lost sister? The question definitely remains unsaid though, as he simply shakes his head. "Meant Primal, there Annalia, but I'll certainly keep that in mind. And if ya give me your number for the database, I'll be sure to call you if I need a real mover and a shaker." Easy enough grin there.A hand lifts and he waves as Steven enters as well. This rate, the party could go on all night - he stretches for the cooler, grabs out a beer, and settles back down again.
(Ratchet)
If the presense of the elderman keeps her calm, the offering of sugery cherry treat makes her day. she tucks the majority of them into her pocket, opening one and plopping the chewy goodness into her mouth before looking up as Steven enters. the change in ratchet is obvious.family. pack.
tension bleeds from her. steven never let ANYONE hurt ratchet. not that elderman or others would, but the feeling is simple security. she waves from crouch in front of elderman, and digs out piece of candy for him too.
(primal)
He finally comes to from the forced and sudden stillness, shimmying once more from beneath his layers of robes, gowns, linens and articles of summer-wear (circa. 1997) the head lifting ever so slowly to take in his surroundings as if from a restless sleep. The cowl and hood drip back from his brow briefly to reveal a weathered face of mulatto descent. Dark, sooty black eyes squint under the firelight even as the huddle of rags (a mountain of fashion scraps) twists a bit to orient firm and circled (Bags of 60 dollar groceries under those eyes) with something other then weariness. Anxiety? Apprehension? Or simply the day to day struggle for life, love and Gaian liberty?"So ain' nutt'n 'app'nen buh tha' usu'l shite."
Was that dissappointment in the Ahroun's gravel husk voice?
Primal turns slowly, inching around to regard first the presence of Steven, then 'round to orient on Annalia. A sort of grim humour frees itself from the attempt at impassive features in-
"I ain' work wel' wit' tha' pub'lik, Tris' buh thanks. 'hose tha' gurl?"
A pause. Eyes flicking to Steven briefly-
"'n tha' boy?"
-before returning to study Annalia, plain, upfront and firm in that stare.
(stephen)
*Crossing the room in a casual stroll he gives a smile to Ratchet, then a nod to James. A bit of a wave to Tristian that slips up. Large duffel bag materializing over one shoulder as he strides closer to his sister. Feeling more compleate now that they were together. Dropping to a knee by Ratchet he opens the top of the duffel that had a chain strap on it. Reaching inside he pulls out a bag. White with green. KK of the ol Krispy Kream on it. Offering the bag to Ratchet he nods and reaches out to softly stroke her hair and nod to her. Looking up to James from his crouch he reaches in and pulls out a black bag. The front of wich has the same green Alien head on it. Passing it up, the smell of fully decked out sausage dogs wafers to join the cacophony of smells already present.Slowly those blue eyes rotate around to Primal and one sandy blond brow raises* "Boy?"
*Voice coming out nice and strong. Curious. Amongst different company such words could get ya killed. Here. Probably just laughed at.*(anna)
Steven doesn’t go unnoticed by Annalia, her head bobs in quick nod. Green tinted lashes fluttering over honey-brown eyes. She shuffles further away from the door. More distractions, perhaps a pleasant one from Tristan, her chest expands, pushing out a soft rush of air from her lungs (a sigh of relief?). “Sorry, I thought you meant me.” a mention of Primal and she’s back to stealing another glance at him.Who’s the gurl? that brings her eyes back on Primal, a small lift of her chin and she snorts. “Spent so much time chained to your alley you forget about me already?” an acquaintance? I think so.
(james)
"Can' 'fford to, this day'n age."the quip's joined by a lopsided grin
though.... the raggedyman dreadlocked jesus christ seems a bit more deeply amused
population control isn't exactly that striking a topic
definitely not enough to inspire that glitter roiling in the living nightmare's eye
fortunately for Anna's tense instincts to keep a distance
it's a welcoming smile on the man's mask hiding the true inner beast
he's not laughing at her, however, it still isn't clear why she should join his mirth"'m th' one a call 'z shindig. City Eld'r, Fos'rn Fullmoon a Eaglesss War Pack...." a pause in the accented slur, wafting scents of the decked out dog simply something that cannot be ignored - appreciation for Steven's presence now doubled - turning back with a semi-apologetic boyish grin once the grub's securely in his hands "James Brans'n... outta Alb'ny."
(tristan)
He laughs, easily enough, and pats the couch by his side. He's sufficiently far from the rage machines so as not to bother her - but close enough to bother him. Which suits him just fine, thank ya very much. "Have a seat, there Annalia. Make yourself comfortable. Drink?"Distractions.
And then, chuckling. "Well, wasn't kidding about the number - I try to keep networked. That way when someone needs something I know who to call. Shakers included."
Then to Primal again. "That there's Steven. Ratchet's brother and packmate. Part of the Whirlwind." let's anna cover the rest by herself.
(ratchet)
stevens here. everythings right in the world. he crouches near her and she leans automatically toward him and into carress, and then sniffs as the bag is open. nostrils flare, little grin appears and pleased hum sounds in delighted rumble. steven knows. always.gives over piece of candy, and takes bag and opens. deep breath of cherry filled pastry smell, and she sets it carefully by her music box project to let grubby fingers dip into bag and pick out special treat.
glance in bag, at pile of food, to her treat, and then sees elderman grab fully decked dog. enough leeway for her to dive into her sticky cherry donut with delighted hmmm.
across Twister's winds"mmm thank you. girl there same color as vespa!"
(steven)
*A smile and nod to James and he remains crouching by his packmate. Looking over to Annalia at Ratchet's promting and he blinks slowly. Finding her color very curious to say the least. Replying back over the totem link.
And the Purple Pearl too.A nod offered to Annalia* How you doin'?
*His accent a touch hard to place unless you've lived there. Pure D.C.*
(anna)
“Ah, so you’re the fur ball that’s declared hisself top tomato around these streets. I hadn’t heard too much about that until it was brought to my attention recently. Guess I couldn’t lurk in the shadows forever with you boys n’girl running loose in the city,” she looks back at James, studying him, “Albany, ya say. Interestin, been to the Bronx much?” There is an odd glimmer of amusement that shines briefly in her eyes for the raggedy man, like when a child discovers a secret key that could unlock a trunk full a mysteries. Was there a connection between this kinfolk and that Elder?Annalia’s body shifts slightly, adjusting her weight as she rolls back and forth, heel to ball, on tall platform boots. Her arms pull away from her chest, taking herself off defense to relax a little. To Tristan, “That’s aight. I don’t mind standing for now.”
To Stephen, she looks over at him and then down at Ratchet, “Heyas, chillin’.” Her accent barely noticeable to place, a blemish of Chicago/Bronx on the vocal cords, he’s offered a friendly smile.
(primal)
The conversation has continued apace with Primal mostly out of the mix. Why?He's studying. Observing. Watching.
Annalia to be more specific. The young woman has his full attention with the commentary, though it takes a number of moments for him to fully connect previous evenings and happenings with the strange young Rainbow Child-
(Such a blur of misery and wanting and craving whole happenings of crack crack cracking shatter snap snap snapping shake shake shaking FUCK)
It isn't until the introductions are completed and everyone has been made friendly that Primal even gives the faintest hint of life once again: narrowed eyes. Narrowed eyes and a rather displeased mask in place of his features. The grime and dirt and muck are gone, replaced with what could be a young face, if not for the heavy bags and lone lines drawn through it all.
"...Yea'. You."
Says it all, doesn't it?
(james)
a connection between that day-glo specimen of a kinfolk Rainbow Brite
and this urban primitive dreadlocked raggedyman Fullblood Jesus Christ
it's probably easier to find a common thread between James and his packmate Modi"Think th' shadows'r dark 'nuff?" his head tilts canidly, grin cavalier scythe "We'd leas' still see y'r hair...."
un. fucking. repetant.
but at least this hot top potato has a sense of humor"Though dunn declare 't. Got th' title'n all i's benefits fr'm th' local dawgs....." a glance to his prettyboi bro in confirmation ".... las' Mar'sh? April?" that is humor and not an insult.... isn't it? "Only go' down a th' Bronx few times wh'n I ran wi' th' Green."
(Tristan)
At her declaration she'd rather stand, he shrugs and just grins. "No skin off my back, just offering." Then in reply to James' question. "Round about then, yeah." Bout the time the caern went up, and things got all official. Never thought he'd be around that kind of stuff again, but here he is. All because of his dredlocked bro. Sometimes, that's a good thing.He lights another cigarette, the last one having been put out at some point, and stretches a little bit before, just settling in again.
(Ratchet)
Annalia talks to her and steven, and she ducks her head again, concentrating on the little box at her feet. Dark gaze peeks up under rim of hat, as cherry remains of donut is licked from fingertips. bright colors. she'd almost brave her shyness to touch that hair, just to see if its real.little lean toward steven still, and fingers start work on the music box. monotonous hum sounding under breath - still listens.
(anna)
A quick walk down memory lane… a month or more back. So many faces… so little time. Rattling chains and growlish disposition, the monster in the alley that had scared the shit out of her and ignited her curiosity at the same time, her question seems to be answered. “Yeh, me.” Primal. “Primal. How fitting.” She rolls her shoulders beneath her coat, shaking off another shiver. Her tongue passes over her lips again, nervousness under the ahroun’s gaze.She addresses James again, Primal forgotten. “Don’t mock the frock ‘til you look in the mirror, Cap’n. White urban with dreads usually means a few things,” flashing him a cheeky grin. “Been to the Green once after my discovery of a Furryland. Surprised I never saw the sights of you there. Same last names… big family.”
She clears her throat, personal later, business first. “Sides the meet and greet, any purpose to this or you just want a figure on the ratio of Bee Gees lurking in the gutters?”
(steven)
*Steven runs his fingers though Ratchets hair and gives her back scrinchings like she likes them. Smiles to her and nods to Annalia's chillin' Reply. A soft smile gracing his lips. Looking back over to Primal he just laughs, shaking his head.* Well.. Infant. , I'm Steven Card, known as Fastball amongst the nation. Ragabash of the Gnawers. Twisters chosen, The Whirlwind.
*It seem's Steven's pretty amused. Hearing Annalia's words he grins even wider* "Primal... your parents musta just hated you man.*Looking back to Annalia he tilts his head still eyeing her hair. Looks to Ratchet and back to Annalia* Can we touch it?
*Grins, clearly meaning himself and his sister here*(primal)
"...Mild. Trus' me..."The growl is there, just a touch under the gravel-rock voice, as the pile of blankets shifts quite suddenly (or as suddenly as seems so due to the lack of movement throughout the ten minutes), quivering all over under some sudden body position change around. He turned in place to re-orient his field of view on the majority of those presen-
-parents must have just hated you, man.
The swathed Ahroun pauses. Freezes in place, the ripple of Rage seeming to flow with a bit more of a steady hand and a keener edge, even as the dark eyes (Intimidation is for the manipulative. This is instinct. Something you don't think about even when the urine-fear hits your nostrils) turn with the head swivelling not far behind, to regard Steven with a whole new interest.
"...Mum 'n Da, lov'd me tru', street-prey..."
The posture is crouched, poised it would seem though it is hard to distinguish under all those linens and lengths of cloth. The hard-nosed and weary Ahroun remains half-risen and half-pounced, the crackle of knuckles rippling in-synch alive in the air, muffled though it was beneath the blankets.
(james)
a brow lifts as the Fostern growls a laugh
seems Rainbow Brite can keep up with the big dogs
whether or not it will get her killed is another matter entirely"Can it."
for all his reputation as a relatively mellow Ahroun
James can pull Rank when he has to
deep umber eyes go from entertained to something not so amused
dark gaze bitter steel locked on first Steven, then Primal
there's a warning in the raggedyman's calm expression
he didn't get that Rank or run with the Eagles this long for nothing"You two Cliath's wanna c'mpare dicks, take't ou'side. Get 'nuff poodle yapp'n' by eggin' insul' a' th' Caer' Moots." silence lingers - heavy and expectant, there's a difference between playful banter and direct provocation "Clear?"
dreads shift over shoulders once response comes
potential thunderstorm clearing in but the span of one breath
back to the jovial raggedyman like nothing had happened
though a brow lifts at what few things Anna could be referencing"Ain't mockin' th' frock, kitty cat, makes you eas'er a fine inna crowd th'n me, ya dig?" cadent jive navigating its way through his slur... faaaairly well "Sides, I ain't brave'z them a wanna touch't. Been near ov'r two year' since I been a th' Green, all my crowd hangs'n Alb'ny. Blood's a big fam'ly, so dunn doubt yeh prob'ly move'd'r shook wi' some've mine. Tris' there's Big Apple nat've."
a pause, switching
Posted by james at October 22, 2004 12:00 AM