January 08, 2005.01.08.05. - january moot [city garou](AnneMarie)
Moving from the opening howl toward the circle for the cracking of the bone, the stoic young silent get moves with a grace that is unique and exhilarating. The beast barely contained within the skin, control through muscle and mind. Slacks, silken shirt, all under the long trenchcoat. Hands are buried in the depths of pockets, seeking warmth that the chilled January night won't give.Ever silent, ever watchful - and very much aware of the youngest Eagle's ire that she was chosen to stand second. He has been around longer, he is pack, while she is merely prospective Eagle. however, she has the experience, and knows when to hold her tongue.
so to speak.
She does not sit, preferring to stand, silent and every watchful.
(Cliona)
While AnneMarie stalks with silent grace, Cliona glides with silken ease. The more things change, the more they stay the same when it comes to the Irish lass. Beer in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of her coat, she pulls herself up a log and has a seat to wait for the cracking to begin. A wink for Kemp who likely is already bitching about his ass going numb, and nods and/or smiles for those she knows.(..ratchet..)
hidden, around, quiet. Jo and Steven late, leaves runt unattended, unprotected even among her own. hover around edges, crouch out of site, listen. learn.itch. nails dig at shoulder, ass, thigh. arms wrap around knees, coat of many pockets pulled close around skinny runt. watch.
(kirk)
Kirk remains aloof after the howl ceases. He needs not wrap any coat around his usually frail body, for the thick, mangy fur given to him by his sinful parents atleast keeps him warm on chilled nights. Though his arm does wrap around his lower chest, hand groping and rubbing at the cracked rib to ease the pain. He leans back and forth, cracking his lower back to releave it of the pain caused by his stubbed tail.(virago/flesh of fire)
The sudden surge of pure blood like a lure to the skin will be the first indication of the arrival of the Silver Fangs to the circle, their presence if not seen initially, then certainly felt. Their alpha and elder stands at their head, the sleekly formed body wrapped as always in white, the the deep depths of azure swiftly taking in who is present, and who has yet perhaps to arrive. With her, Vast, Pagan and a newcomer, Aurelius, who would be a stranger to most. Their kin, it seems, have stayed home.Beyond passing a nod to those she is more than just familiar with, Virago waits for the proceedings to begin quietly.
(jukebox)
there's something about the desolation of winter
icy drafts whipping through the windy city in growing, bladed gusts
what was before little more than a degree of separation
suddenly chainsawed into some devastating crevasse
ice bridges built between memory and the familiar
crumbling 'way beneath the weight of fogging breath
(this is what they call the night of the soul, Jamey-boy, you better watch yourself....)maybe it's the deepening chill of the dawning year
maybe it's because his packmates are still stretched a shade too far between
maybe it's just nothing more than the singular fact James doesn't dig January for some particular reasonthe ghetto prince makes little show as the opening howl reverberates to echoes
weight shifting a shaggy shadow against the wall somewhere between those that share his mongrel, jackal blood and the council chosen to lead the rest
by sheer magnetic pull, a third direction creates the pyramid base
(it's rumored to be the steadiest of structures)
flesh as pale as the arctic storms hiding some pure (purifying) fire beneathit's marginal comfort in regards to the blistering weather
but that doesn't stop the guttermutt from slanting a wolfish grin and tossing a beer Imogen's direction
fur around the pads of his handpaw conveniently soaking ice chest's sweat away
at least she won't have to catch a slippery bottle with gloved hands(v/fof)
Flesh of Fire moves to join the circle, not far behind the Silver Fang, her eyes flicking over to where the Trutchcatcher without expression. As usual, for those who do not know her and for those who do, her features are typically neutral, yet not quite able to dismantle the stern visage that is automatically assumed with the pull of scar across flesh. Layers of clothing hide where the stretch of scars along her throat move further down her body, the dark and coarse hair loosely swept to make no attempt to otherwise obscure.(kemp)
Duty, just because, or more like torture, that's why he was here. Here to torture his ass and mind, not to mention his patience. Patience Grasshopper....bullshit. Whatever it was, he was here. Besides, he couldn't let Imogen sit there without his presence to brighten her night or something like that. Besides, numbasses should come in twos. "Fuck me, should of brought chairs." Muttering to Imogen.
(werewolf npcs)
The Opening Howl has taken place. Voices pitched to the sky above, transformed into howls that cascaded in a mournful waterfall of sound over the Umbral landscape of the Assembly area. Trickling back till there was again peaceful quiet, this stillness now only broken by the soft lapping of water against land. Somewhere close by was the heart of the Caern, and situated within, Maelstrom thrummed.The Caller of the Wyld has done her duty, called upon the Caern Totem, those of the Packs present and collected Spirits that have some place of value in the hearts and minds of the creatures standing and sitting collected together.
Now it is time to speak. Air grievances. Ask of the Council and address issues of concern. Rites pass by and soon enough, it is to the Truthcatcher then, that attention turns. And to the Cracking of the Bone. Cordova asks of the Elders if they would speak before all others, and the Grand Elder’s cursory glance to the others is perfunctory and brief. He shakes his head in the negative, and the Shadow Lord bows respectfully and moves to pass the Bone to the Cliona.
And so it begins.
(kirk)
Kirk's skin has been crawling since he felt and saw the Silver fangs. Pure blood has always given him a sick and disgusting feeling about himself. He sees the group around him and notices a few familiar faces, catching Kemp's comment about chairs and trying his best to repress a smile.(kemp)
"Only one thing to do." Reaching for the button on his jeans to tug it open, zipper going down next. "Gotta give you something to sit on so your ass doesn't get wet or dirty besides numb." Wiggling his brows at Imogen.
(imogen)
The Silver Fang kinfolk have been left at home. As all kinfolk should be. Moots are no places for kinfolk. Moots are no places for her. The howling, the crinos. Imogen does not speak Garou. But if she's lucky, enough of the proceedings will be English so she might grasp threads.If not, well. It will be a long meeting for her. Though,then again, how could it be, with Kemp sitting beside her and offering opinions into that pale wellshaped ear every other minute?
She sits beside the Rotagar, arching forward to catch the beer out of the air as it is tossed in her direction, the glass of the bottle almost sliding through her hand before getting it caught with the other hand.
Mostly, she ignored Kemp. It seemed the best course of action. Until, of course, the enterprising teenager decided that she should ... sit on his pants. "Take those off." It's almost inaudible, "and I'll remove yer balls." Oh.
The beer finds it's way to the ground by her knee, as she sits indian style. She follows the movement of the bone, the muscles in her jaw tightening, and then relaxing, before her gaze flicks back toward the crinosed James.
(cliona)
Cordova asks of the Elders if they need to speak, and they decline. Cordova nods, and as Cliona lifts her beer to her lips, she suddenly realizes she's got the bone in her hand. Slim reddish brow arches, and she studies the Truth Catcher for a moment, then drops her gaze to the bone as she swallows.Interesting.
She clears her throat, and toasts the group with her beer, chuckling lightly. "Th' beer at th' Claddagh is exceptionally good this month." She tips it back and finishes it off, before bending to set the empty bottle between her feet. "Tis bee a wee bit o'a slow time about. What concerns me and me pack is the sudden exit o'those we know. Th'group here tis exceptionally small t'night. Time t'recruit. Th'Flight tis open, others are as well.
Sure, tis normal, aye? But with th'shite tis happenin about we need t'muster up sources. I saw th'first incidence - or th'aftermath o'it anyway - o'th'face meltin man that th'news has been coverin' up." There's a sudden, direct, pointed glance at Imogen. Tribe by blood, though called another. "Ye know anythin' about it lass?"
(kemp)
Muttering with a widening grin while scooting a little closer to Imogen so she could feel every little movement he made. Besides, he fully intended on sharing farts with the pretty redhead. "Always knew you had a thing for my balls." Brows wiggling again. "Good hand warmers ya know."(jukebox)
She'd probably make earrings out of them, instead, boyo.
growled in a chuckling rumble across the Totem Phone
while Imogen wouldn't be privy to such pack thoughts
he's pretty sure the deliberate coordination of jaw slacked to catch poured beer covers the smile that would tell it all(kirk)
Kirk's ears perk up once Cliona mentions the accident. He moves closer to the circle to hear every detail.(kemp)
~Dude, I always wanted to see my balls on some girl's head, ya know?~ Now his squirming was more due to hormones and the vivid imagine rising in his head along with something else rising in his jeans. Barely distracted enough from sexual thoughts to say something outloud. "Dude, serious? Faces melted off? I mean, that shit sounds like some bad sci fi movie, ya know?"(ratchet)
little runt, all alone. until Elderman arrives. little smile flit across lips, head duck under matted hair. ragged nails dig under rim of knit hat, scritch behind ear, fall to knees.moment. two. skinny runt lifts and moves toward elderman, only to fall into normal crouch just behind him and to the left. fingers dip in random pocket in coat of many, pull out cherry pie - one of 3 - and offers favoried treat to favored Elderman. The second soon pulled apart between sticky grubby fingers and shoved into mouth as if it might disappear.
(imogen)
The kinfolk is mostly dressed for the weather - a dark woolen jacket, oddly worn open, despite the chill and other obvious attempts to dispell it - a scarf wrapped at her pale throat, leather gloves on her slight hands.Cliona's declaration is unexpected - it shows not in an overt sign of startlement, but in the way her eyes narrow briefly in the fianna's direction (and know Imogen or not, it doesn't matter, she is obviously Fianna. Just look between her and the other redhead. See the way the blood flows beneath the kinfolk's skin.) and for Kemp, sitting so close (and half a second from having her move away), feeling the abrupt tightening of her muscles, a stiffening that is tactile and not visible.
Kemp is cast a brief glance of near disdain that ennunciates exactly what she thinks of his 'handwarmers' before she stands, a hand briefly touching the ground for balance - something a Garou would never have to do.
"Some," she answers, low accent, some british tone, but not like Cliona's irish language. "Do I need the bone?" A lift of her chin toward the item in Cliona's hand.
For all her surprise, and for all the fact she is surrounded by wolves (pun intended), other than that pure breeding that might do a silver fang proud, she radiates confidence. Out of her element, but comfortable enough in her own skin to stand it.
(kemp)
Under normal circumstances he would make a big show of cumming in his pants with the look from Imogen, just because, well he was Kemp and he just loved making a show of drooling over Imogen. Imogen was safe, he could flirt his ass off and never have to worry she would want a sample. Right now though, he was too distracted to writhe and moan with a jerk of his hips for Imogen's entertainment. Faces melted? No way. No fucking way.(virago)
And of course, eyes draw to the kin, a faintly amused look entering the Fang elder's eyes, if not for any obvious reason. She had had very little association with the redhead, and that which had passed, coul hardly be considered friendly. But then, the kin had a reputation.Hands drift up to shift the collar at her neck, stiffening it further against the cold, the naked gleam of her head and the hair which brushes against her throat otherwise poor protection. The amusement mingles with open interest, when Imogen's response is given.
(cliona)
A slight grin - knowing full well she put the kinswoman on the spot, and three strides carry her to the other redhead. The similarities between them are far outweighed by the differences - reserved british Imogen, and the always jovial Irish lass. She offers her the bone, and winks. "Nae technically, since I asked ye direct, but for those th'like th'technicalities sake, here ye go."
(jukebox)
Yeh.... but I'd always thought you'd opt for them resting on ya ladyfriend's chin instead of neutering trophies dangling from her ears
a browpoint lifts above large orbs of deep umber
curious glance cast askew at his youngest packmate
well understanding the need for some levity in what normally turns into a mindnumbing nightthen broad skull slants towards the scurrying runt
already lost within the spanse of his Warform shadow
even if her crouch, for once, does not intend to hide
the treat's accepted with a lopsided, animal grin
a grunted notation from somewhere in his chest may be defined as comprehensive thought
but only Bone Gnawers themselves can translate mouthfulleatlikethere'snotomorrowspeak
meaning the itchy Ratchet is the only that caught any mention of pizza for laterthe raggedyman holds to his sentry along the wall
close enough to hear whatever Imogen chooses to share
but not as close as the Rotagar's intentional foray into her personal spaceface melting
mmmmmm tasty
especially when served up with cherry pieluckily his Tribe is famed for strength of stomach
(v/fof)
The Shadow Lord elder is not so far away from Kemp to not hear the gist of the comments made, if what is said physically were not already enough. Perhaps the burn of two twin coals briefly beneath those layers of clothing and skin would be felt by the younger garou, with the faint rise of one condemning eyebrow faltering only when her attention is drawn away to what is being said by those holding the bone.(kirk)
Kirk has now zoned out all of Kemp's foul remarks. The Black Fury turns his undevided attention to Imogen, the out of place kin.(AnneMarie)
She watches, listens, ever silent. Gaze snaps toward the scurry of the runt, but only to note her position, and relax with Jukebox's easy acceptance of the scurry and treat.
Sometimes it is obvious, in little ways, that she still needs to prove herself to prospective pack...
Gaze returns again to Cliona and Imogen. Fingers clenching slightly in the pockets of her jacket, before relaxing. Her stance, of course, same as always.(ratchet)
language only gnawers understand. little grunt and nod of acceptance. [dinner with elderman? never say no - he gets the everythingeatuntilyoupuke kinda pizza] as pale pink tongue flicks over grubby fingers, collecting the remnants of cherry treat. watch while listening to face melting talk -- nothing seems to sway appetite.
(kemp)
Sending back over the totem while watching Imogen to hear about this face melting crap. ~Dude, you know I don't do girls no more. Or guys either. Gross. I'll stick to my girl Rosie Palm.(imogen)
"Ah." From the kin who, for all her intelligence and education, did not know that a bone took any part of the moot process at all. She takes the bone in one leather gloved hand, and her eyes, dark pools of midnight-sky blue, drop to the item briefly, a momentary inspect.Perhaps to identify it was human. Perhaps to buy her a second from all the rage, and focus on something else. She may not appear disconcerted (far from it) but logic might dictate she should be. It's more likely to believe she's good at hiding it, than to think she is without fear.
A glance down toward Kemp, and then back up, specifically toward the elders. James, who she knows (but in war-form, she doesn't), Cliona. the Grand Elder. AnneMarie, who stands in for Rohl; the others she does not know.
"The things that those who saw the television know: twice now, crowds of people 'ave suffered occurences o' their faces either melting, or tearing at their own faces, depending on which report yeh hear. Everything stops within minutes of news reporting starting. News people are shut down by men in suits. Nothing's 'eard after tha'.
"What yeh haven't 'eard: humans faces were melted," a glance at Kemp, deliberate. Yes. Melted. "S'not chemical. Not a burn. S'like wax. Which doesn't happen in nature.
"Furthermore, it's not just news that's being shut down. S'all of us. I had two bodies for two hours. I went to run some tests, came back. The cadavers were gone. S'not by local cops, either. They've no clue anymore than anyone else." A brief, suppressed grimace.
"Th'majority o' the blokes at these locations have no memory o' it at all. Those that do do remember something in common. There was always a man in a red sox cap. Muttering to himself, wi' intense eyes." She lifts her shoulder in a half shrug, and it's almost apologetic, "The scenes were wiped clean." Meaning, she couldn't get anything else.
(kemp)
AnneMarie he knew of course. Didn't mean he liked her. Partly Decker's fault, partly her own. Kirk got a faint lift of the chin from him. Ratchet got a wink and wiggle of his brows. Attention caught by Imogen again when she started to speak. Feeling non the wiser with what she said either.(v/fof)
"And how long ago did this happen?" Flesh of Fire speaks, a quiet growling sound, made even more so by the ruined vocal chords in her throat, and the thick Serbian accent. Perceptive eyes would see that while she watches the kin, there are carefully restrained shadows in her eyes which could spell of dislike and something else.(kirk)
A small sigh. Nothing new. Nothing any more informative than what coworkers have said. Wait, missing cadavers? Red Sox cap? Well, strike him dumb, that was new. Kirk's quick look of dissappointment turned back to attention.(jukebox)
James had heard the story before the Grand Garou Gathering
it would be the very reason he filled the kinwoman's Saturday night with such charming atmosphere
most women would expect to be wined and dined on a blustery night such as this
or cozied in some sheltered hideaway safe from the ravages of the relentless Chicago winds
Imogen, however, was anything but like other womenso there's a part of the BeeGee Elder that doesn't feel guilty
the Crinos guttermutt remains silently content as the other's question
rolling the facts through his mind, yet again, as what's left in the bottle rolls over long tongue(imogen)
Imogen's eyebrow arches faintly, a brief flicker, "October twenty-eighth and December seventh were the dates these occured."(fof)
"And what have the Eagles done since hearing of these strange occurrences from you?" The eyes of the philodox shift to take in Kemp and the Bonegnawer elder. Though her tongue may be, for the most part, carefully neutral - the harshness cannot help but brim with a certain form of condemnation. It seems a rather quick judgment has been made. Perhaps the elder resents the fact that she has heard nothing until now.(imogen)
Imogen's features like Flesh of Fire's tongue, remains neutral."They brought me 'ere."
(AnneMarie)
A brow arches toward buzzed hairline at the Philodox's question. A slight smirk, as fingers itch to reach for whiteboard - but the question was asked of the Eagles, not the stand in Get Elder. To this, she defers to Jukebox easily enough, and the kin who holds the bone - and as always, holds her own.(ratchet)
flinch at sound of judging voice. dark eyes peek up at the philodox, then back to the ground before her feet - subtle shift toward Elderman. Barely done, likely unnoticed. Though kemp gets little grin. he's funny. loud, but funny.(cliona)
She listens, filing away the added information to her already limited supply. Adds only. "Dinnae get t'check umbral o'th'second one till after th'sweep, unfortunately. Nae much t'report from th'side either - in both incidents. Spirits were a wee bit upset, too much so t'gather any information. Just unhappiness, frightened... Scared outa there bleedin minds, th'were. But nae much in th'way o'clues at all, at all."(fof)
And that response is answered with the shift of the Lord's gaze solidly to Jukebox, one brow lifting upward in query, as if to say, Surely, there is more? As disgruntled as Flesh of Fire may be, she does not seem quite inclined to take it further than that unspoken question. Frankly, the fact that the kin was even brought is something in contention with her, and her rather low opinion of kin in general, but she has long learned that the way of other tribes seldom follows her own.(kirk)
Silent tension. Kirk's eyes shift slowly between the philodox and kin. His gaze is somewhat caught by Imogen's vibrant hair, but he returns his mind to the conversation at hand.
(kemp(
~Dude, you better take this cause if I gotta tell them what I know, the only bone I'm going to be holding is in my pants. Sending the thought to James. Frankly he wasn't intimidated by the school teacher scolding look. He'd fuckin jumped in the mouth of Hell, wasn't nothing that scared him anymore except maybe girls.(virago)
"So you have been to the Water Tower, Ricinus-yuf?" The Silver Fang finally speaks up, despite the look the Shadow Lord gives to the Eagles - or perhaps, because of it. A slight, brief smile hovers at the corner of her mouth when she glances in that direction, before disappearing entirely. "Our own kin, Arabella, was there and saw some of the commotion which occurred, though she knew little. We only made a brief foray of the area, ourselves."(swiftraven)
~ sitting off in the back a bit he just sits and listens. Long midnight black hair falling down his face. Wearing a heavy black jacket. really long shorts almost the length of pants that a re baggy. Big heavy black almost tanker boots and st full height he was 6'4. ~
(npcs)
The Grand Elder stands impassive, immobile for the most part as discussion threads its way from the Kinfolk, to the Shadow Lord Elder. The gaze of the Elder shifts to encompass Flesh of Fire, considering her words, before turning again to gaze steady at the Bone Gnawer Elder. If he means to speak, it seems, he intents to wait and hear from Jukebox before doing so. An eyebrow raised as the Silver Fang Elder speaks instead.
(jukebox)
by the time the Serbian's eyes fall on the shaggy Elderman
dark pools of deep umber levelly return her gaze
Flesh of Fire's voice is mangled from the very birth of forming breath
ruined throat decimating what may have once been dulcet tones
any returning words would have been equally harsh no matter how controlled
streetperformer's pleasing tenor gutted across a twisted jaw..... if... he'd had to speak
an unimpressed grin slides crooked over his muzzle in response to the Elder's resentment
whatever James' thoughts may have been on the matter
(what... think I'd've brought her if I thought your high and mightyness was any threat?)
stay solidly between the tips of long, velvet earsEagles can hold their own... even the mere kin
"We thought't pert'nen' a breif th' res've th' Sep' 'fore takin' any course've action." his words are irreversibly slurred by the battlescar, but that comes out smooth as glass from a cheshire grin... if a wolf can grin in such a way "Think're Sep's prove i's strengths a workin' 'gether'n pro'l'ms that 'ffect 's all."
a browpoint cocks, faintly
(what more did you want.... would you have preferred an embossed, hand-delivered letter... or have you forgotten what happened the last time those of your Blood thought to assert their power.....)
but disappears in the shadows of yet-remaining pseudo-dreads"S'rash f'r ev'n a warpack a run headlong in'a somethin' there ain't ev'n proof a happ'nin' save faulty mem'ries reset by th' Men I' Black." dark gaze ticktocks to the Grand Elder's weighty attention, though his words address all that have gathered "Full moonz figh' wha' we c'n sink're claws into. Can't hunt what ain't there a phys'c'lly track."
silence returns as his attention swings to what Theurges he knows are here
marginal hope that clues are lingering just beyond the shadows of their Realm
whomever else may have an answer or lead - it's their turn up at bat
he's getting another beer(cliona)
(Cliona)
The snap of pale gaze moves to Virago as she speaks. "Aye cliath, I 'ave." Not so subtle reminder, there."I was there mere minutes after th'first, but th'umbra was t'thick with pain and fear - I nae could get an answer. Th'second, nae a clue t'be found. Tis understandable yer kin couldnae find much else, and yer own brief foray wouldnae find much else then that. I spent better part o'th'night questioning and searchin, t'find nae a clue at all, at all."
Added insult to injury. First, to remind one of rank. Council or no, the Irish lass has earned Fostern - and still bears the scars of such lessons. Second - of her kin leading only to a 'brief' foray in response? Not good. But then, mercifully, she falls silent. For now.
(kirk)
Kirk wishes he had some evidence, some clue, some comment to add to the conversation. He has none. His reltionship with the Spirits has been strained, and he feels as though his attempts to find anything on the matter would result in failure.(fof)
The Shadow Lord's response to the bonegnawer is a simple murmur, and the faint hint of a smile, "Ah yes. My apology. I had forgotten the use of your pack." And then her attention is drawn to the stand-in Fianna elder snapping at that of the Silver Fang. That smile takes more form in almost open amusement.(imogen)
Imogen's eyes follow the conversation, and then calmly walks over to hand the bone to she who handed it to her."I've a meetin' wi' a bloke tomorrow who might help me more." She says before handing the bone to Cliona, "When," Not if, "I have more information, I'll provide it."
A glance toward James, Kemp. It is of no doubt to whom the slight firey kinfolk would bring this information.
(Cliona)
She nods to Imogen, and takes the bone back. "If'n ye need me, ye know where t'call." She would offer to go with, but she leaves that ball in the fiery haired Kin's court - a sign of respect for one who has earned it many times over.She flips the bone in her hand then, and offers it back to the truth catcher. "tis all I need t'bring to th'Sept's attention, though likely I merely only beat th'eagles by virture of standin close to ye." That easy going grin, again.
Virago receives merely a nod. She holds no love for the Fangs, as well they know. The truce is tenious at best.
(kemp)
He was frankly just learning of all this shit. The fact that his pack was scattered to the four winds and he spent most of his time either alone or dealing with Rumor, didn't help either. And no amount of nasty looks or questions was going to make him feel the least bit of guilt. Far as he was concerned, if someone had wanted an reaction from him, they could of gotten off their asses and said something before now. And he wasn't above telling them that while grabbing his crotch.(npcs)
The Grand Elder, it would seem, would speak now. He stirs, makes some small notion to signal that the bickering should cease. The Kinfolk brings the Bone back across to the Fianna, who in turn offers it back to the Truthcatcher. Cordova turns and asks if the Grand Elder would comment on what’s been said before she asks if any others would speak.“The news you bring,” A gaze settled momentarily upon the fiery-haired Kinfolk, then in turn shifting to James, Cliona, Josephina. “Is greatly troubling. The Bone Gnawer Elder spoke true. Sending any Pack in without proper knowledge gained would be foolish. However,” The pause is deliberate. All attention gained, the Grand Elder continues after a beat. “The Sept would know more of these strange occurrences. Investigation by the Eagles and the Flight is encouraged.”
This said, he becomes silent once more. And the Truthcatcher gazes around, Bone in her palm.
“Do any others wish to speak on this matter?”
(kirk)
Kirk searches his mind deeply for something to say, but only bows his head slightly and rubs his chest. Another small sigh.(imogen)
There's a brief, slight smirk at Cliona's offer, a polite nod. She wouldn't call. Her gaze turns toward the Grand Elder when he speaks, and then she steps back to sit down beside Kemp, her gaze drifting briefly away from the group and then back again to wait the rest of this out.(virago)
Virago speaks up, "Only that the Carreau de Sang also offer their assistance. We are already looking into the matter through what channels we can, and we are quite willing to consult with the Eagles and the Flight on what information we may find."(switft raven)
~Swift raven looked up and he would have to speak~ " I am sorry for speaking now , but i am uncertain of this matter that is spoken of. If my help is required though I would offer assistance where I could"
(jukebox)
shaggy form pauses, hovering above the open cooler
the newly recruited bottle's cap tips towards the high arch of Crinos brow
a salute as soberly sincere as the Lord's apology, it would seem
depending entirely on how one looks at either gesture"No harm done, Flesh'a'Fire-y'f." the streetsmart Elderman so bold as to cavalierly wink above toothy grin "Hear say ev'n th' bes've us have'r lapses wh'n oth'rwise incline'."
muscular shoulders roll a shrug
wordless reference that, indeed nobody's perfect
(not even you who thinks your blood raises you above the rest)
two additional bottles freed and tossed towards the Fianna and Lord Elders in turn
one in kind response to that easy going, Irish grin
the other.... well, can't accuse a guy sharing a brew of mocking insult, can ya?"I'll make sure yeh hear've any more newz inna timely fashi'n af'r Im'gen d'liv'rs i' to 's."
visceral animal the Full Moon Fostern may be
he plays the political game well enough
invisably barbed banter ebbing aside as the Grand Elder speaks
a trademark nod up in acceptance of both compliment and task"'r num'rs 'r spli'." whatever the reason for his packmate's absense, it is something he chooses not to share "Any a yeh tha' wish a run recon 'r work with's 'n th' Fligh' 'r welc'me."
unusual, perhaps, coming from a member of the mighty Eagles
a warpack well-known for how closely knit their ranks remain even separated by who knows how far
James, however, is not as.... socially challenged as his more vikingly counterparts
easily accepting the skills of others filling in where his own abilities stretch thin
he is the PR guy for the Brute Squad, after all(kemp)
Thank Gaia for James because Kemp was so territorial that sometimes it took him months to get over some imagined tresspass. Leaning over to whisper to Imogen. "See, better over here." Belching against her ear, softly.(ratchet)
shifts weight slightly, roll to toes, back to heels again, still curled in comfortable (comforting) crouch in Elderman's shadow. body hunches slightly, tighter, before peeks up under matted hair. "ratchet help."recon. Small, skinny, resourceful. find stuff others miss. Gnawer style.
(cliona)
The catch of tossed brew gains Jukebox a nod and wink, and that ever present grin. Bottle toasted, opened, and a swallow or two downed easily enough. She remains quiet however, other then acceptance of her role, and that of her pack in further investigations.(AnneMarie)
Silent still. Stoic. Watching. It goes without saying she stands with her prospective pack.
(imogen)
"Oh much," murmers Imogen, and lack of sound by no way diminishes her dryness.Yeah. Kemp has nothing to worry about Imogen suddenly 'wanting him'.
(kirk)
Head still bowed. "I'll try to help if I can." Wow, just absolutely overflowing with enthusiasm and confidence....well, not really.(kemp)
A wiggle of brows and a rogish grin. Making sure to share the belch by blowing his breath towards her face. "Hot dogs, extra mustard." In case she couldn't tell the stink.(fof)
The Lord catches the bottle easily enough, but simply holds it. Nor does a glimmer of thankyou enter her eyes, as they are again drawn steadily to regard the bonegnawer - the slight tilt of a smile stretching scarred skin, it could be the remnant of amusement from the Silver Fang's set down, or simply the fact that the gnawer elder thought she would enjoy beer to cover his own responding insult. Nevertheless, the bottle is not yet returned, and she may unwind just enough to have a drink yet.Doubtful.
(npcs)
The offers of assistance echo from various corners. The Truthcatcher’s patience tried by so many speaking out of turn, but she relents eventually and simply waits. Beer is tossed around and patience seems to be wearing thin, as the numbness to certain areas of bodies increases, as happens so often at these gatherings of Garou.The Truthcatcher turns then, and again asks the Elders and Grand if they would speak on anything else. It seems, however, that the Grand Elder has nothing other to raise with the Sept gathered. And Cordova, glances around those gathered.
“If there are no more issues to be raised, then it would seem it is time for tales and songs, led by our Talesinger.”
She retains hold of the Bone, looking to pass it back to the Elders, if no others wished to speak.
(virago)
"Actually, there is one issue I would like to inform the council on." Mildly said, with a bland smile, for all the world it could be something that she expects all to disregard as soon as it is said. "Given the glasswalkers seem to have.. dropped in presence entirely, or at least, have not asserted any claim, my pack is claiming the whole of downtown, except for those areas already held by the Flight."(imogen)
A brief flare of her nostrils indicates just how she got the smell, and the twist of her mouth indicates her opinion of it."Charming." She says in a low voice, her attention flicking to Cordova briefly, her hands pressing against the jeaned edge of her knee, rubbing the leather against cotton.
Waiting.
Imogen will leave when this portion of the moot is over. She has no need to hear the tales - and she certainly does not want to be here for the revel.
(kirk)
Kirk always loves the tales and songs part of moots. Maybe these would actually be about something other than the slaying of men who have done evil.Huh, claiming more territory? Big woo. Just one more thing for Kirk to respect. *Get on with the stories!* he thinks.
(cliona)
(Cliona)
Brow arches somewhat. Chin lifts slightly, and though she accepts the fact that they claim all but her own little slice. She doesn't say anything, she has no qualms. Unlike the Fangs, she tends to only claim what she can hold on her own with her pack. It will be interesting to see if they can hold it all on their own, with limited numbers. But she has no actual statement on the claiming itself. The truce still holds.For now.
(kemp)
"Oh hey, think that is good." Wiggling his brows at Imogen while starting to lean up on one cheek. "I betcha if I had a lighter, I could make some real fireworks here in a minute." Doing his best to drive her nuts.(imogen)
Imogen goes back to ignoring Kemp.(kemp)
Chuckling softly. Ignoring was good. Ignoring was great. Ignoring was encouragement to raise the bar. It meant he was getting somewhere. Even if it was in just allievating his boredom. "So, up for that smell test are you? Bringing up another belch just for her. "You're safe with me. It's Rumor's farts that will melt the hair out of your nose."(jukebox)
an actual display of gratitude for the beer would probably have made James choke
equally as possible he wouldn't care more or less if the Lord Elder choked on it herself
as it's not her drink of choice for the evening - there's little expectation of her to actually enjoy it
so.... perhaps.... the entire thing was for nothing more than a witnessed act
a gesture of goodwill before the eyes of the Sept itself
there are more important matters to attend to than blood-driven snubbingmost likely he's just amused it wasn't rebounded directly at the back of his skull
a mental list formulates the collective team by offered help
jaw tipping acknowledgement to each who raises their voice - no matter how softly
task force delineations assigning those familiar to process what they've to work with
in time, the other's abilities will put them into proper placebut that is for a later moment
the raggedyman entertains such thoughts in silence
paying attention to what it is the Fang has to say
but finds there is nothing more to add himself
Eagles have plenty of elbow room along the Riverfront
he won't complain if someone else voluntarily takes on more work
respecting the Flight's existing claim is good enough for himit's been a comparatively harmless gathering of the City's Garou, tonight
verbal sparring strayed within the boundaries of polite difference
tempers remained remarkably held in check
Kemp is still in possession of his manhood and fleshwhy look a gift horse in the mouth when there's still plenty of beer and tales yet to be sung....
(virago)
The Shadow Lord's response echoes that of the Fianna elder, one dark brow swiftly rising upwards in some derision. The Fang only number four, far more than any of the glasswalkers at this moment, and her mind was much in keeping with that of Ricinus. If the pack could keep it, they would. If they could not, those territorial lines would hastily be redrawn, of that she was certain.As it was, the Grand Elder's decree regarding territorial disputes made the threat from other packs at least minimal.
(npcs)
The Grand Elder’s gaze settles with the Silver Fang Elder. A brow lifting upward at her claim. The absence of the Glass Walkers had been noticed, doubt it not. A moment’s silence settles before he speaks. Glancing the Fianna’s way.“If the Flight has no problem with this claim, and taking into consideration the apparent lack of any Glass Walker Elder here to dispute,” Not pleased, by that fact. “Then the Sept has no issue with the claim at this time. As long as you are confident your Pack can handle such a space.” An unspoken question there, in the Grand Elder’s statement.
(virago)
"If we cannot, then that will soon prove itself so." Inclining her head in acknowledgment of the otherwise acceptance in the Grand Elder's words.(kirk)
*Yeah, or you could just get 'the help' to babysit your land.* He thought, keeping his thoughts away from his facial features.(cliona)
Her only response is a vague gesture. As the Fang said - if they can't hold it, soon enough it'll be proven. As long as they stay clear of her pack's claim, she has no problem with it.(imogen)
There really isn't a way to win with Kemp - this is a fact of life that one simply must accept - that ignoring has just as much encouragement in it as responding.And so, the ignoring continues. Why not, after all.
(kirk)
Woah, major itch. Flea? Tick? Oh Gaia, no! A small grunt escapes from Kirk's lips as he scratches the back of his neck.(npcs)
"If we cannot, then that will soon prove itself so."So said by the Fang, the Grand Elder simply nods to acknowledge. Returning again to his former stance of silent observation as the Truthcatcher steps forward, reclaims the Bone if she had deigned to release to any speaking. (Or had they been inclined to reach for it.)
“Again, if there are no other issues to be raised…?”
Her tone almost hopeful. It seemed the Moot grated on every Garou’s nerves after a time. If none other spoke, then it would be to Tales and Songs, and the Revel, that the processions moved onward to.
(imogen)
Imogen has nothing more to say, and casts a brief glance around the gathered Garou, dark eyes illegible.(kemp)
Waiting until Imogen turned towards him to let go another belch in her face with a wiggle of his brows. "You know, if you're bored we could go somewhere. Like, betcha ain't seen my indoor pool yet, have ya? I'll even let ya skinny dip in it."(v/fof)
None other speaks, and the 'crowd' disperses as they will, the majority, as expected, remaining through the tails and songs and into the revel. It is some time during the dispersal for that, that Josephina approaches Cliona, her packmates out of sight."Ricinus-rhya," she acknowledges the other garou with an inclination of her head, the pale leather of the coat she wears drawn tight around her body, the collar still remaining stiffly up to cover her neck from draft. "If you are not busy? Perhaps we can discuss what needs to be done regarding this... glowing man."
The accent is crisp, British - much as it had been through the moot. It is only on social and informal occasion that her true accent - French - may slip through, and this is not one of those occasions.
[fade]
----
why james brought imogen:
Bodhar (6:32:36 PM): aaaaanyway, Imogen would have come with some information about two incidents that happened recently with people either clawing at their faces or their faces melted.
Posted by james at January 08, 2005 12:00 AM
Bodhar (6:32:44 PM): Basically the info she has is this:
Bodhar (6:38:39 PM): Faces were melted by no chemical she knows. Looks supernatural to her. Each time it occured, a group came in afterward and cleaned it up - to the point she got no fingerprints, and bodies LITERALLY went missing in the morgues.
People are mysteriously getting amnesia.
Bodhar (6:38:53 PM): And also! those that remember remember a guy with a red sox cap in both locations.
Bodhar (6:39:20 PM): Scary and with intense dark eyes. Which, Imogen would probably note, very wryly that perhaps the Wyrm has got a few stereotypical bad guys gadding about.
Grraack (6:40:16 PM): gotcha