May 29, 2005.05.29.05. - askin' one thing [eagle pack][downtown]
(decker)
No pack house yet -- so the Eagles will be gathering at one of the many abandoned docks toward the north end of their protectorate tonight, near the caern. The scene's nothing they haven't seen before: the lake waters lapping at the concrete rubble-strewn shore like a freshwater ocean; the setting sun casting shadows of dilapidated dock machinery and shambling dock hangars across the water. A stiff wind blows out of the northeast, still cold. June was almost here; summer, unfortunately, was not.Out of the way of the wind, back to a tractor whose tires have melted into the concrete, Decker's feeding wood chips and bleached driftwood into a fire almost invisible in the sunlight. He squints against the sun, nodding to Kemp as he shows up.
There's no food. That's James' job.
(kemp)
"Ok, works for me." A lift of his chin making the now red hair dance across his shoulders and sides of his face in a wave of red that ranged from deep deep almost burgandy to bright brazen red. Some parts looking better than others. Figuring if he got sick of it, he'd shave his head and let it grow out. A tiny little tuft of scraggly hair starting to sprout on his chin where he had been trying to encourage it's growth. Shuffling on up to dump a few broken 2"x4"'s for the fire.(james)
ask and ye shall receive....just on the other side of the near-non-existant fire appear a pair of boots
above stretches the casually familiar fading pattern of second-hand BDUs
somewhere just before waist level appears a pair of paper bags
.... just to keep the tandem trendone's weighted with a variety of subs James just went creative on
some of this and some of that which should appeal to the lack of decisive orders
the other bag almost leaks a distinctive chill around heavier cast
bottles clustered within portraying Stone Brewery's finest selection out of.....
.... well...... some things just shouldn't be questioned just as long as they're here, yes?the guttermutt's head tips and casts a lopsided grin
notably shorter dreads flipflopping against the slope of shoulder"Sum'ne ord'r room s'rvice?"
(imogen)
So often does Imogen appear out of place in her surroundings, that it must seem almost normal to those who have known her long enough. From bloody alleyways, to decrepit factories, now to abandoned docks, she is left almost untouched by it all.She rounds the corner, an instant after Kemp does, apparently having either driven him, or perhaps had a moment of insanity, and allowed him to drive. Her hands shove into the pockets of her leather jacket, slim fitting and falling past her waist to brush against her jean-clad thighs as she walked.
A glance toward Kemp when he speaks, gaze resting his way, before she shrugs at the Rotagar, "S'good," she replies, apparently finishing a conversation they had been having prior.
Everyone seems to be arriving at once. There's a glance for Decker, and then one for Jukebox and his carried goodies. It's impossible to be surprised that out of all the Eagles showing up tonight, it is the Bone Gnawer who provides the grub.
(AnneMarie)
No pack house, as of yet, though one had been offered. Perhaps tonight it will be offered again. As such, the deserted dock is a place of meeting. She looks out of place here, yet strangely at home at the same moment. She is dressed as usual, perfectly pressed slacks (with the bit of stained darkened cloth along one thigh, where whiteboard is swiped clean between bits of her conversations), silken tank top under light jacket. Heeled boots that bump her already tall height another 2 inches, short shorn hair, silent demeanor, rage.In a word, Modi.
Her footsteps herald her otherwise silent arrival. Kemp, Decker - both receive a nod. James is subject to a slower glance, a once, twice over. After all, their meeting has been limited to one passed out Gnawer drug from a building on cleanup, and various moots. In the end lips curve into what might be a smile if ever allowed to live that long, and gaze drops, nod of hello given. She crouches by the building fire, and empties her pockets, to add to the pile of shared goods one baggy o'primo weed with rolling papers. And in jest, a bag of Big League Chew bubble gum for Kemp.
Seems she pays attention, for the Omega knows her place, and her packmates, well.
(Tristan)
He'd gotten the message, and since he's yet to have been able to see with his own eyes that his brother is indeed here (and more importantly ok) he wouldn't miss this meeting for the world. And he, in true Gnawer style, does not show up empty handed either. A grocery back with chips and dip to go with the other things he knows will be brought, as well as soda's for Kemp. He's mom, after all, and knows better then to suggest he drink beer. and get cancer.He walks up, violin in one hand, bag in the other, same ole pretty boi as always, and trademark grin slips across his lips. "I'm here, party can start now." He puts his bag down, his violin in some relative safe place. Kemp's hair is mussed, Anne nodded too, Imogen winked at, Decker receives a wave.
James. James gets a long. slow. slow. long once over. Judging, perhaps, searching most assurdedly, and then the smile warms. "Welcome home, bro.." said aloud, though underneath? 18 different shades of meaning.
(decker)
"Sheeit." The Modi uncoils to his feet, left hand grabbing the bag with the sandwiches, right hand gripping the Gnawer's shoulder for a moment, hard, before he thumps him on the arm. (Surprisingly) white teeth and crooked smile, "Welc'me back, Drums on Skulls."They could say the same to him. Then he crouches again, ripping open the bag: wolf ripping flesh to get at entrails. Kemp gets his attention next, a long stare at the hair -- "Tha fuck you do?" -- before he tosses out sub sandwiches at complete random. One for James. One for Kemp. One for Annemarie and one each for the kin; one for himself.
(kemp)
Snagging the sandwich out of the air when it came his way. Right in the middle of a nod to Annemarie and James and a big ole wet kiss on Tristan's cheek. "Who? When? It wasn't me no matter what anyone says! I didn't touch her tits, didn't say nothing about them. It was Kirk. He said they were falling, not me."
"And the crazy assed Kin? All I did was yell, didn't touch her but she thought she might run my ass over like I couldn't smell what she was and what she'd been doing? I'm telling ya, I hate girls, I hate them more than the runs." Pausing just long enough to take a bite of the sandwich, talking around the mouthful. "Mmpha been, mphpa, James?" Going for one of those pops Tristan brought.(AnneMarie)
She catches her sandwich neatly and settles it on a knee, the other hand reaching behind her, settling on the ground as her weight shifts, smooth and silken, animalistic until she is sitting on the filthy planks of the dock. Perhaps, for all her insistance on looking well put together, she's just like them after all. Legs tuck in, and she opens the sandwich, taking the time to spread included napkin across her lap. OK, so there are still some differences.And she, of course, is silent. You get used to it.
(james)
"Ssss'good a be 'ome."phrase slung around that forever lopsided grin towards his brother
it's free, easy, and ultimately unconcerned by the varying scrutiny
animate spark dancing deep within mellow umber betrays the morphing moon
cryptic physical messages (... in 18 different shades....) lost in attention shift
a trademark nod-up to AnneMarie interrupted by the hard grip and thump on his armstreet performer through and through the Ahroun doesn't miss a beat
fingers climbing up to ruffle through ropes barely reaching his collarbone
composure regained in some expression between wry grin and smirk"Got'uh haircu'h?"
greeting's retaliated as fist connects to the Modi's shoulder
a story to tell there may be..... but the raggedyman isn't sharing just yet
spreading the wealth of Stone, instead, following up the sub toss with a lobbed bottle
Imperial Russian kept for his damned self, thank you very much
(.... brew's so dark you can't even see through the bottle....)
easily waiting either the next level of interrogation or an explanation for tonight's party(imogen)
Imogen takes the sub when it is handed to her, dark gaze dropping to the wrapped package, and then looking at Kemp as the motormouth goes. "I think he meant yer hair," she says, drily, though not before Kemp had begun to excuse himself for just about everything he's done in the last week.(Tristan)
His lips quirk into a smile, and as his hand falls on James' shoulder, before creeping up to tug on one of them shorter dreds, knowing full well he's one of very few who get away with the affectionate action. It says nothing, it says everything.And then, to Kemp, as he snags his sandwich midtoss and then studies the boys hair. "Kiddo, ya missed a couple spots, next time let me help. But hell, looks cool." So declared, it's mussed again and he winks. "Rumor'll like it."
A flinch away from the swipe surely coming, he settles down next to his violin and digs into tonight's eats. Who knows where it'll disappear to if not inhaled right away, after all...
(kemp)
Throwing the rest of his sub at Tristan for that Rumor comment. "Girls suck! Except Imogen, she helped some with my hair."(decker)
Fuck. Everyone was getting haircuts and dyejobs and shit. Decker reaches up and rub his prickly buzzcut. Maybe he oughta grow it long, Fabio-style. Heh."Fuck you do that fer?" directed smirking at Imogen, re: Kemp's hair. "As if he don't look bad 'nough already."
Settling on his haunches, back to the once-yellow side of the tractor, Decker takes a few silent bite of the sandwich while the pack got acquainted. Settled. Whatever. Then he wraps what remains of the sub up and drops it between his feet for later. When he leans forward for a brew, his balance is perfect, shifting smoothly from one position to another, and back.
"Alright." The lazy smirking humor disappears, and it's down to business. A chug, a stifled grimace at the fizz, a wipe of his mouth on the back of his mouth. "'Case y'all ain't noticed, we moved to tha docks. James -- you back with us fer a while now, 'r you leavin' again?"
There was a story behind his absence. And someday the rest of them might even hear it. But not tonight.
(imogen)
James lobs a bottle, and she catches it, one hand grabbing it from the air, and the other hand soon following it to insure she didn't drop it and it's precious contents. While she may or may not eat her sub, guaranteed, the former Fianna kin would drink.Imogen smirks back as she takes a seat on a bit of broken concrete, a hand reaching up to push back a strand of decidedly dye-free hair from her eyes.
"Saved my ceilings," she answers Decker as she twists the cap off the bottle, and silencing as things start to get down to business.
(james)
the Gnawer's mouth pulls down in half-frown
a sign of negation rather than after-effects of heavy brew"Got a meas're a biz'n'ss a tie uh loose en's nex' full.... oth'r'wi'e y'r stuck wi' me." the merry cadence of self-depreciation as can only be pulled off by one of true Jackal blood "'Den set?"
a slight nod up summarizes the extent of that question
James has consistently located a comfortable dwelling for his packmates in the past
just like meeting eatie treats, it's simply another one of the things he does
all he needs to know is whether or not they're planning to settle in this new territory long enough to make it worth while(Tristan)
He just laughs, and catches the thrown sammich "Hey! I taught you better then that, you don't waste good food." A wink, and he hands it back, still chuckling. "Damn kids today.." muttered playfully, though he quiets when Decker speaks.. more then interested in the answer to the question.And when it comes, he grins a bit, snags a bottle of something or another, and settles in to listen to the big boys talk.
(kemp)
Snagging the bit of sandwich when it was thrown back at him but not without making a face at Tristan before stuffing the sandwich in his mouth. If his mouth was full, he might be quiet for a bit.(decker)
"Naw," den was definitely not set yet. Hell knows where poor Kemp has been sleeping lately. "'S part'a what we gotta talk 'bout."Annemarie 'n Kemp, where you been runnin' patrols? How much ground you think we kin cover with four?"
(AnneMArie)
She's eating slowly. Precisely. Cleanly. More like one would think Imogen eats, if anyone ever saw her do so, rather then the inhaling of the rest of the Eagles. She listens, and then, flicker over totemphone, to save the need to write. It'll be passed along to the kin, she's sure.I still occupy Gustav's old office building. Complete with spar circle, heavy bag, weights, living quarters, kitchen, bath, and basement firearm practice area. As mentioned before, the pack is welcome to it.
A pause, fingers catching a bit of mayo as it drips from her sandwich, liked clean. She let's Kemp take first crack at the Alpha's question.
(kemp)
"I been riding all over the fucking place as long as I knew it didn't belong to no one else down here. With four we can go a lot further, just don't know how fast or well. My cover's been a little thin. Annemarie's been pretty much running the same areas, crisscrossing here and there."(imogen)
When AnneMarie speaks, she cannot hear her, but she can see the change in the others (and the mute herself) when she does, so Imogen's gaze turns that way, too, watching the mute, until Kemp starts to speak. And then things are aloud, and she looks at the rotagar, a line forming for a moment between her eyebrows before she reaches down to pick up her bottle and take a swallow.There of course, is little enough for her to add to this. Kinfolk do not patrol, and even if she could, Imogen would likely not want to.
(AnneMarie)
A nod agrees with what Kemp said. Then, He rides, I walk, catch in between in perpendicular lines. Several blocks, easily. More distance is not that hard. She spends most of her evenings doing said patrols. Fighting when necessary, or simply when she needs the outlet. Cleaning up where she can, when she can.(tristan)
He too can pick up the cues of Totemphone, and has little to add to the conversation. Instead, he keeps eating, and just enjoying having them all together. Yes, he's a sap. It comes with the territory. and so he, like Imogen, simply listens.(decker)
Listening, the Modi's unwrapped his sub and taken another few bites. "Gustav's old buildin's over in Skid Row, ain't it? Kin we stretch that far?"(AnneMarie)
More like between the two, downtown and Skid Row. One does not shit where they eat.(kemp)
"Shouldn't be much of a big deal with everyone around now." Moving towards the bag of goodies Tristan brought to start digging through for munchies.(james)
mouth otherwise unoccupied by his own version of twisted English
the sub sandwich disappears in far fewer bites than should be healthy
washed down by intermediate mouthfulls of the strong beer
(... ya gonna be feeling that one soon, eh, Jamey-boy?....)
quietly listening to his packmates converse(decker)
A nod. "On what -- Elston, near tha Fireside? We kin cover that. Use that as our western den. Let's set another one up here, in tha docks, on tha eastside. James 'n Tristan, kin you git on that?"(AnneMarie)
A nod. That'd be the one. Agreed, she makes a mental note to have keys made for those that need them, including the one for the basement and firearms cabinet. Sure, it's empty now, but of ammo for her own weapon, but the keys will be available none-the-less.(james)
the guttermutt levels off a slow nod
head tipping in gesture of meandering thought and plan
easy enough to find or damn well create what the Pack will need"Insi'e a week'r so." dark eyes strafe over to the prettyboi kin, an unnecessary convergence of like minds (.... Team Gnawer, at'chore service, Boss!....) for James is a showman, after all "Maybe less."
(Tristan)
His name's mentioned, and he looks up, victim of having let his mind wander. He nods, however, after sharing that un(so)necessary clash of dark eyes with his own, lop sided grin in reply. "No problem. I'll spread the word we're looking. Have possibles to check on shortly after." Nothin like being the cities best connected Kin..
(decker)
Decker nods again -- slow, moving more his neck on his shoulders than his head on his neck. The last of the sub is demolished, and he balls up the wrapping, tosses it into the fire. The plastic outerwrap is stuffed into the tractor, offhand. Ain't no treehugging conservationist, Decker."'Nother thing. Imogen says she got pictures of some killin's we oughta look at."
(kemp)
"Oh man, no nekkid girls?"(decker)
"Dead nekkid girls." Decker's grim.
(imogen)
A glance at Kemp, "I don't think it will be th'kind o' naked that you'd like."A glance up at Decker as he speaks her name, her mouth twisting in something that is both wry and a grimace at once. "Not yet. But I will." Unlike the others, she hasn't touched her sandwich, though she's swallowed some of her drink.
"And pictures o' where th'bodies were found, in case there's somethin' in 'em that I missed."
(( As an OOC FYI: Whoever gets the photos needs to roll some dice to try and decipher 'em, which means we need the ST, who isn't on. Heh. Or to Forums PM him, which would, you know. disrupt the flow. ))
(kemp)
Shrugging slightly, at least they would be quiet and not try to run over him. Bitches. Part of him could almost understand killing a girl. Falling back to stuffing his mouth with munchies.(decker)
(let's do it on forums, then.) Decker grunts. "Alright. Kin ya get 'em tomorrow night?" A beat of thought. "Might wanna show tha Wyrmfoe, too." Glance at Annemarie and Kemp. "Fuck happened with tha challenge? Yu Gan 'n Barny."(james)
Oh. Peachy.
the thought isn't broadcast
but the Gnawer's expression states the same
idle hands busying themselves with plucking a baggie out of his pocket
seperating out a little packet of rolling papers and then a single sheet from within
joint rolled in a few seconds flat before it's caught between flat white teeth
Zippo's flame sparking hazy scents spiraling into fire's smoke(AnneMarie)
She shrugs, slightly. It did not happen, as far as I know. I assumed it to mean we continue following Barny as Wyrmfoe.She glances toward James as he sparks and lights, before attention is drawn to the rest of her sandwich, finished, the wrapped thrown into the fire. she stretches long legs in front of her, then, crossing them lightly at the ankle and leans back on a hand pressed against the wooden planks.
(imogen)
Can she get them tomorrow? "I should," she answers, almost uninformatively. The conversation moves on to other things, and she turns her head for a moment to watch James roll his joint.(kemp)
Glad Annemarie answered cause he wasn't sure. Quietly watching James before muttering. "Gonna give me cancer." His ward against all things that caused bad memories or evil in his life.(decker)
There's a scowl. "Fuck they think a challenge is, a dinner invite ta make 'r ditch as they wanna? 'll check at tha Caern t'morrow."Might give Kemp cancer, but Decker seemed to think it was a good enough bargain: he holds a hand out for the joint, continuing, "Y'all remember that Glass Walker shit? 'Bout gittin' tha kin packed under Eagle too?"
(james)
sparked, lit, and lungful of fragrant smoke plumes back into the air a good 30 seconds later
arm stretches to his left and hands the J to his Alpha as proper
where the rotation goes after that is out of his hands
lopsided grin quirked at the young Rotagar in tease"Wha'.... li'e tha' dye ain' already sproutin' a brain tum'r?"
(kemp)
"No man, it says on the bottle it's safe. Don't see anything about the Surgeon General or just say no to drugs on the bottle." Pausing with a frown at Decker. "What kin?"(decker)
That earns Kemp a wtf look. Slow, like you talk to foreigners and retards: "Imogen, 'n Tris."(imogen)
The subject that Decker's brought up has earned him Imogen's undivided attention, though the reason, is unclear by her expression. She does, however, very likely remember the 'glass walker shit'.(kemp)
Frowning and sticking one finger in his ear to wiggle it like clearing something out before smacking himself up side the head before speaking again. "Ok, so like draw a picture cause I don't know what the fuck you are talking about."(james)
James just laughs at the comeback
actual reasoning aside, he can't really argue that logic
but his gaze turns intead to the shaved, undyed male Fenrir of the group and tipping a nod"Dunn get nowhere wi' th' Walkers tha' las' time I talk to'm 'bout it."
(decker)
"Imogen knows," is all Decker says. Passing the ball. Maybe he was tired of listening to himself talk. His eyes narrow as he sucks a hit, and then passes it to Annemarie -- skipping Kemp altogether, 'cause we all know he doesn't wanna get cancer.(Tristan)
He blinks, and looks over at Decker, curious. Pack like actual pack? Interesting concept.. and something he did not know was possible.He keeps his mouth shut, however, and listens carefully.
(AnneMarie)
She arches a slim brow as packing the kin is mentioned, but has nothing to add to it, unsure how it would be done. Instead, she leans forward to take the passed J, lift it to her lips, inhale and hold, as she passes it on to Imogen - or on to Tristan if she does not take it.(kemp)
Waving smoke away with a frown, even moving back out of the way of it all. "Oh good, bring up Glasswalker shit and then pass the buck. Will someone tell me what this mumbo jumbo is about? I mean are we talking doctor Jeckyl or what?"(imogen)
The redheaded kinfolk's gaze rests on Decker for moments after he's passed the buck, before she inhales, turning her head toward Kemp. "There's a rite that allows kinfolk t'be bounded t'the pack. Lets us in on th'.." her hand moves slightly, gracefully, indicating with motion the silent conversation that the Garou can take part in, "...thing."Her explanation is rudimentary, based upon her understanding, and her tone is without indication. Imogen could be on the witness stand, and she might sound just like this.
(kemp)
"So like it just lets ya talk in my damned head and hear shit, or does it give ya other things? Will ya change? Will ya get stronger? What else does it do and what's it take? I mean, seems to me if there is such a thing, everyone should of been doing it a long time ago in the cave man days and beyond."(decker)
"Naw. They don't change. But they kin git stronger. Talk in yer head. Hell, if they ever figger how ta channel Gnosis, they kin Clap yer ass too."Figger they have been doin' it fer ages. But 's a Glass Walker thang 'n they don't let on 'bout it." Sniff. "So we gotta find a Walker ta squeeze it outta."
(kemp)
"Well better not be me. I seem to piss everyone off so better be someone with a sweeter tongue. But I'd personally avoid the clap cause I don't want it on my ass or anywhere else."(Tristan)
Blinks. Interesting. He just chuckles at Kemp and teased. "Think of all the mom nagging you'd get then..." Having the ability to Clap someone's ass would be nice - so says the kin who almost always seems to be in trouble, who hasn't been in too much trouble lately which only means big wicked things lurking around corners....And then he's just chuckling at Kemp again.
(james)
"Camp'sss Diez Altim'eh" - or some semi-reasonable facsimilie thereof, in James-tongue "Bi'nary's las' I knew've wi' any c'nnec's."(decker)
"'S ask tha Grand Elder." The pack was a collection of accents, slurs, drawls and truncations. It's amazing anyone understood anyone else at all. And of course, by "let's" Decker means James. PR Man, welcome back. "He kin point us in tha right direction, maybe."(imogen)
Imogen rests her forearms on her knees, leans forward and listens, for now.(james)
the guttermutt chuckles low and rolling
let's of course translates to the PR department of Eagle pack
meaning the Army O' One that is... he
near empty bottle of Imperial Russian Ale lifts and tips in salute
(Lemme pencil that right in....)
expression once again saying what his mind and mouth do (or can-) not
patiently waiting for the topic to thus unfold beyond "Y'all remember...."
and give him more leverage than good looks to win the Grand Elder's help(decker)
Unfortunately, if James needed more clues than that, he'd have to ask. It's long since gotten dark on the shoreline. The fire Decker had built earlier doesn't seem so dim now anymore. In its ruddy glow, the Eagles sit gathered -- first time in how long?Oddly enough though, there's little contentment in Decker's pose. Maybe it's 'cause he was never one to sit around and have meetings, after all. Much rather hang with his crew on the street corners, cruise with them down the roads.
Still, this was long overdue.
"One more thing." James and Tristan didn't know this yet; the rest of them had had at least some warning already. "Been thinkin' 'bout pullin' tha Fangs in with us."
And that's it. He just tosses it out. Waits for comments, criticism -- hatemail.
(james)
Decker waits - and... yet again, he shall recieve"Are you outta y'r fuckin' min'e?"
the comment is actually laughed, strangely enough
dark umber eyes locked right on steely grey
this will probably hurt, later, but James isn't concentrating on that quite this moment(kemp)
Hate mail? Naw what he got was a glower and Kemp was getting up and moving back to the shadows. Grumbling right away. "Like who?"(AnneMarie)
She had received warning, yes. She was told to watch, yes. She had nothing to report as of yet, but had assumed even at the time of the request that he knew more then she was likely to find out.James laughingly explodes, and it is with far more steal then it would seem at first. She glances at him, then to Kemp, then back again to decker. It is a question that does need answering.
(Tristan)
....blink. And james took the words right out of his mouth adding only. "didn't learn the lesson last time?" yeah. that might hurt later too.
(imogen)
A glance to Kemp when he stands up, watching as he retreats toward the shadows, an eyebrow lifting in expression. Still, she holds her silence.(decker)
"Fuckin' ferget everyone in Chicago 'r somethin', Kemp?" Poor Kemp gets the brunt of Decker's kneejerk temper, though those eyes are locked right back on James. "Josephina. Gabriel."Pause.
"Fuck no," quieter. Quiet. "Ain't outta my mind. Think. Where's all tha shit flyin' outta? Downtown. Who holds downtown? Tha Fangs. Think they kin do it theyself?
"I don't."
(Tristan)
"Seems to me, if they can't, then they don't. And if that's the only benefit..." Pause, shakes head, kinfolk pretty boy should just keep quiet. Maybe someday he'll learn that lesson.(kemp)
"Right, and we are down here too. So fuck them. They can pack with someone else. They ain't alone, but it don't mean I want to suck their dicks either to make 'em all nice and cozy."
(james)
"Yeh."just as quiet
just as calm
he may be outranked - but James can match Decker's deadly stare
he's done it before and there's little doubt it will happen again and again
the guttermutt isn't going to back down
"'n you fuckin' ferget wh' happ'n th' las' two time we trus'd a Fang at'r backs?" the rhetoric is followed by a snort of discontent "I ain' makin' tha' mistake 'gain."(decker)
Funny. It's not the direct challenge that raises Decker's ire. It's Tristan's quiet comment. Leave it be. Or something along those lines, anyway. A sensible suggestion. Why bother picking up another's mess?And yet. It brings the weight of his stare swinging around to bear.
"What?"
The bottle of -- beer, russian ale, whatever it was he had -- ends its life in the fire. Pitched in. Thrown in. Decker's hands are open now, relaxed on his knees.
"They cain't. So they don't? You gonna say that 'bout tha caern too, Tristan?"
And then everyone's talking at once, and Decker just lowers his splitting head like a bull about to charge. Muscles tense. Jaw clenches. But motion, when it comes, is simple. Benign. He holds up his hand, as if he could physically shut off the barrage of words.
One at a time. To Kemp: "Someone else. Who? You gonna trust tha Quick ta hold Downtown? They cain't even hold theyselves. Who else? Tha Knights? Barny's tha only one I seen'a late, 'n I only seen 'im once in six months."
And to James.
A long pause."Tha first Fang frenzied. Tha second -- " something almost like a hesitation, as a frown flickers across his brow, " -- Tuck was my mistake. My respons'bility. I thought he was ...more'n he was. But Gabriel 'n Josephina ain't Tucker. Don't ferget they was the ones who bought out tha Wyrm while we was cleanin' 'em out in blood. They got contacts. Connections. We could use that.
"I ain't tellin' y'all ta decide tonight. 'M tellin' ya to think about it. Go seek 'em out. Talk to 'em. Test 'em. Strengths 'n weaknesses. Judge 'em as they is, not as ya think they is.
"Fair 'nough?"
(kemp)
"Oh Hello? Where the fuck did we just move? Is this downtown or am I blind and really in the Ritz in Cali?"(imogen)
The bottle flies into the fire, and the mixture of alcohol and heat causes it to shatter with a shock of sound. Imogen does not flinch, but she does straighten, deliberately, her muscles coiling tighter, as she follows the argument from Garou to kin to Garou to Garou. Other than AnneMarie, she is the only one who hasn't offered an opinion aloud.And hell, AnneMarie's mute. What'd you expect?
(Tristan)
Jump. Of course he does. and then he stands, slowly. And faces Decker. He meets his gaze a moment, then drops them, as he picks up his violin. His voice is just as low and angry, quiet but intensely furious. "No."that's it for a moment. His baby in hand. His chin lifted. "What I meant is this, and if you knew me as well as you think, you'd know what I meant. We are in Downtown. Therefore they don't hold it alone anymore. They couldn't do it on their own, and we're here now to pick up the slack. There's no need for them to be brought in, trusted as pack in order to do what you want. Alliences, truce, whatever you want to call them, but there ain't no way a fuckin' fang is gonna watch you back, most certainly not that fuckin whore Josephine. you think"
Yeah, her names well known around the clubbing scene, a scene he's connected with. Think her little trysts are completely unknown? think again.
"Remember that I almost died helping you raise that fucking Caern too. I don't have claws. I don't have teeth. I don't even get to get in and see what you get to there, it's JUSt a dock to me. But I do everything in my powerto help bring it here, and to help keep it. N'don't you fucking look down at me for doing my goddamn job and doing it well. AND. for all of that, You know what the pack decides I'll go for, because that too is part of who I am. But I ain't have to like it. And you don't have to like the fact I hate the thought of anything at all. And now, I'm going for a walk. If there's not anything else. rhya.."
And yeah. THAT one, is gonna hurt.
(kemp)
"Ya talk like they are the only ones in Downtown now, so we gotta take them in or something. They can't join with one of the other parts of packs because, well they aren't good enough or what?" Shaking his head slowly. "I ain't for it. I ain't for going to make nice, nice with them and doing some sort of soriety rush shit with them to bring them in. Stand on their own? Well if they have been then they are good enough to bring in some of the parts of packs and strays and increase their numbers. If they ain't that good, I don't want them either. Adn maybe I am the youngest and maybe I got no say in shit. Maybe I have a big ass mouth. So tell me to leave and I'll be one like you think they are, only just one." Nodding towards James and Tristan. "And what they said."(decker)
Hear that?Cracking of knuckles. Popping of neck as he cocks his head to one side, then the other. It's the sound of his temper wearing thin. His eyes are fixed on the fire; the fire's reflected in his eyes, and deeper, burning like molten steel in his veins. The fire's the only safe place to look right now. And disrespect only goes so far in making a point. That distance is almost spent.
His tone is so low they can barely hear him. That's not a good thing.
"You best watch yer fuckin' mouth when you speak to me." It's impossible to tell who he's speaking to. "I ain't tellin' you again."
After a moment he reaches down and takes a handful of gravel from the ground. Lets it trickle from one hand to the other, through his fingers, back to ground.
Centering, maybe.
Holding on to his temper.Exhale.
"Lissen." He's speaking through clenched teeth. He's about done speaking, period. "'m askin' one thing as yer fuckin' Alpha. Think on it. Measure tha Fangs yerself. Then come back in a week 'n tell me yes 'r no.
"You don't wanna?" The last of the gravel slips to the ground and he rises, dusting his hands off on one another. Slow. Methodical. "Then let's talk in blood."
(James)
in a previous life, the Ahroun would have expected his packmate to simply explode
he's been witness to numerous occasions that took no more than a single trigger for detonation
partially, he'd tensed to brace against the avalanche sure to come after the flying bottle
but maybe the Modi isn't the only that's grown in the past half-yeardreads slide along strong shoulders as the guttermutt's head tilts
quietly listening (... acknowledging....) to the careful explanation
glancing towards the prettyboi's outburst
rotating around to catch the Rotagar's follow-up
and still.... James sits silent as their newest packmate
considering his own response just as deliberately as their Alpha did just moments agothe flare of Rage is ebbing from deep, earthen eyes
the primal animal fading away to leave the man's soul bared"'n what'bou' th' one tha' destroy' Rune's condo?" the question is nearly a murmur, hovering just about the fire's softly crackling flames - he knows Decker's hearing is good enough "She wan't Tuck'r, eith'r.... but they were all Fang'. I dunna 'bout you, Deck, but I'm runnin' outta things I c'n lose on chancin' faith. Work' wi' Jose'phina b'fore, an' I'm not ssssaying I won' do so 'gain. I'll figh' b'si'e her'n Gabr'el, use their contac's, c'nnec's, 'r whatev'r else they got comin'."
another pause, solid hit off the roach would go here, if he had it
too bad he'll have to settle for smokey air"But I will no'h call a Fang broth'r. No'h like you. Kem'. 'r any've th' res' tha' were real pack. If y'r askin' one thing'z my Alpha.... don' make it be a choose."
both hands raise, palm open, in submission
he's said his piece and won't argue anymore
gaze drifting away in deferrence towards the fire
it's clear enough that James' choice is made a full seven days early
there won't be any blood to spill tonight or come next Monday(decker)
Decker's tired of flapping his jaw.There's probably shit he could say. Hell. Kemp picks up some of it. Bits and snatches leaked to the totemphone. 'm wrong all tha fuckin time. Like when I put Imogen with th'other kin 'n she got hurt. When she would've been alright otherwise...
...what 'bout you? Cain'tcha be wrong --
-- I AM ASKIN YER FUCKIN OPINION THIS TIME --
...jus shuthafuckup.Just shut the fuck up.
But none of this comes out his mouth. He just clenches his jaw. It seems the storm has passed them by. Sometimes he thinks this pack could do with a little less talking, a little more bloodshed. Like a real fuckin' Fenrir pack. But this pack isn't a Fenrir pack. Not wholly. And you get what you get. And he wouldn't change it for the world. There was strength in diversity. Or some such shit.
"You want me ta lissen to you, Kemp, you give'it a week before you gimme yer final answer." Pause. "You too, James. One week."
Problem with the Eagles: they were all stubborn as hell.
A glance around. "'m done talkin'. Takin' a walk." Pause again. "Y'all comin'?"
(Tristan)
Maybe they can't tell who it's aimed at. Its enough that Tristan considers it directed at him. There's nothing from him, however, other then a nod. Jaw clenched so tight that it pops.There are reasons he does not hang around the pack house, wherever it might be, much any longer. There are reasons he spirits in, does some things, and leaves while no one is there. The older he gets, the harder it is to play the good little Kinfolk with a penchance for cleaning and no opinions. He'd always spoken up before, he's been beaten down before. Perhaps now, he's simply tired of the beat down.
He'll cook, he'll clean, he'll play maid, he'll.... fuck it. Right now, he's walking. "Later." That's it. He glances at james - perhaps there's an apology writ in his eyes, perhaps not. Maybe the glance was just too quick to see, to tell, or maybe his brother knows him so well it's not even necessary. But regardless, his violin in hand, and he's walking away.
(AnneMarie)
She takes the baggy donated, tucks it into her pocket -it'll be placed somewhere in the packhouse and the location filled in. She stands, and smoothes her slacks across her thighs, her hands tucking into her jacket. She's not said a word on any of this, and the only thing she does now is nod. She'll walk with Decker.(imogen)
Imogen shakes her head at Decker's question. She isn't coming. One can imagine the kinfolk has to get up early tomorrow for work, and already, the hour is late, and the sun is closer to rising, than it is to having set. One can imagine she has had enough of this.A glance toward Anne Marie, and she reaches into her jacket pocket, to pull out a small notepad, flipping through pages filled with various notes all in the kinfolk's nearly illegible doctor's scrawl. "If yeh gi' me the address o' th'new place, I'll come by t'morrow wi' the photos, and gi' 'em to whoever's there," she says, offering the mute the notepad, as her head turns to watch as Tristan stalks off.
(AnneMarie)
She nods, and reaches for the notepad, and writes the address down in her neat, precise handwriting. Under it, adding "I will be there." before she hands it and the pen back.
(kemp)
He was to the point he didn't care if Decker listened or not because he knew he wouldn't listen. He'd fuckin do what he wanted and to hell with them all. It was a waste of energy. Heaving a long exhaled sigh. "Night Tris." That was all he said. Right now he was busy considering his place in the pack. Pack was like a bird cage and he was the low man, the lining on the bottom of the cage and guess where all the shit fell?
(james)
the raggedyman's initial response would be something along the lines of flippant
a collection of phrase mocking the necessity to hear something twice to understand
but what would such things be coming from the mouth of Eagles' mellow Ahroun?
little more than pebbles cast against granite, likely
there's a roll of his shoulders that shoves away the biting anger
why waste breath now when it's just going to be repeated come deadlineNah. the problem with Eagles, they were all stubborn as hell Think I've been walking enough lately. Just got here. dark eyes roaming over the deepening shadows creeping across the docks, TotemPhone tones so much different than the mangled reasoning that must still echo somewhere in the waves Probably wouldn't hurt to.........
just what _is_ the story behind the Gnawer's absence?
it drifts nightmare just beyond the abandoned musing thought
shoulders rolling as weight shifts foreward and to his feet
dark gaze catching the paraphrased glance of the prettyboi
explanations lost in the dismissing push of shrug
(..... shit happens, we'll work it out....)
lopsided grin erasing the former direction of his packspeak
head shaking the shortened mop of dreads back into proper disarraywhat the fuck was he thinking?
one rocky meeting sorely failed in filling the void from the past six months
pack's been apart for far too long(imogen)
Imogen takes the paper from AnneMarie, glances at the address and the missive written beneath and nods. "Ta," says the pure-bred kin, with Fianna blood in her veins."Enjoy yer walk," it's said in general to those gathered, because what Jukebox has said is on unheard channels, and the kinfolk steps away, putting the notepad away, and then sliding her hands into the pocket of her jacket.
From here, she'll head. Well, wherever it is she's heading. Work, home. Whatever.
[end]
Posted by james at May 29, 2005 12:00 AM