June 20, 2005.06.20.05. - rare [roxy][eagle warehouse - general chicago room]
(roxy)
Eagles relocation program #1,324…Roxy had absolutely no idea what possessed them to find a place on the docks. It’d been explained to her the need to shift territory to better protect the caern. She still couldn’t figure out why a boat house…err.. factory..type building.. Whatever the hell it was! It was her first time actually coming out to get a good look at the place. Perhaps, see what the gutter-mutt and prettyboi couldn’t fix that she might be able to.
The heavy thuds of combat boots scuffle over cracked concrete and gravel, carrying the Platinum blond across the pier towards the dilapidated shack that now serves as Eagle headquarters number two?
Much has changed over the past year, Roxy wasn’t the same woman. Changed both physically and emotionally, this was going to be a test for her, if she finds who she thinks might reside inside. The cool night air touched against warm sun-kissed skin, a strong and lean musculature packed into a tight frame. Clothes tailored to ease the summer heat of Chicago, camo pants with a low waistline that hugs just below the curve of her hips. Long-sleeved fishnet shirt stretched across her chest, the trappings of a bikini top hidden underneath. New tattoo work reveals through sheer materal, a half sleeve over her right bicep, large Celtic design to hid a former lover’s name. And a decorate gothic cross over the left shoulder. She still wore her Glass Walker Glyph on the back of her neck, exposed by the short wisps of blond hair frame the hard lines of her face, no longer ravaged by scars. (…see ya fixed yar face up Roxy…)
Deep blue eyes carouse over the building structure, shifting the weight of a large leather bag clasped firmly between calloused fingers. “Anybody home?” the call of her husky voice drifts out over the building, heading towards the door.
(james)
Eagle HQ version two-point-oh
it looks similar to the first rendition
easy enough to discern exactly who takes up residence
Junkyard Wars worthy furniture amongst everything else do-it-yourself
smattered here and there with reasonable shadows of civilization
lo and behold - there's even an island of domesticityit's current castaway is cross-legged in the center
half-heaped roll of carpet functioning sand dune
lacking in only the slanting palm tree to complete the motif
dreadlocks hang in affectionate disarray across muscular shoulders
flesh turning tan with the trials and tribulations of blue-collar employ
dark eyes intent on whatever manual he's rescued from the library this week
the reach for his beverage of choice wayward and blind"You here a th' Eagle class'a oh-fohr reuni'n?" the words blythely skimming past the Camel dangling off-lip-off-kilter "Name tagz're on th' table to y'r lef'...... punchbowl on y'r righ' still need'a be spike'."
the Ahroun doesn't shift weight to glance across his shoulder
slanted shadows mingling with the darkened lines tumbling down his back
a feathered premonition to the raised ridges of mangled flesh
strange acknowledgement in personification of dulcet soft phrase
collegiate vocabulary twisted by the battlescar crippling his jaw"Long ti'e, Rox."
(rox)
Nothing ever really changes and yet nothing ever stays the same... The HQ was a reflection of some former rendition, complete with its island of domesticity. This touches a smile to Roxy's face, pulling the lush line of pouty lips upward. She lets her gaze wander around, looking for the culprit she came to destroy. Decker's rickety relic of an air conditioning unit. "Came ta replace that piece o'shit air unit that Decker found in the junk yard. Figured ya boys might like somethin' alittle better..."Her voice trails off as she hear the familiar drawl of the gutter-mutt, eyes flick away to refocus on him, her smile growing wider as she watches him. "Long time, James, didn't know ya were that literate." a nod to the manual in his hand, "S'why I'm here ta keep ya boys from muckin' it up."
Lazy steps walked towards him, like the prowling gait of a jungle cat, Roxy paused a foot away from him, "Well, yar a sight for sore eyes.. Cleaned yarself up a bit."
(james)
laughter follows suite in the pattern of billowing smoke
the lazy curl of concentration traded for a chuffed luxation of breath
this finally getting the raggedyman to turn
brow hiking dreadward above those dark-shadowed eyes"Prob'ly th' mos' academic'lly 'ccomplish' one've th' lot." smile dances on the latter half of wryly self-depreciative smirk "F'r whatev'r tha's worth."
bicep flexes putting right wrist to kneecap
iridescent line of dedicated weapon's tattoo reflecting on tanned skin
hard tribalesque designs attempting to melt into the faded black BDUs
the manual hangs limp from the scissor of drummer's calloused fingers
cigarette performing the alternate sway of deft stretch and logroll flick
embrous cherry lifting towards a space catty-cornered to the domestic isle"Ay-cee's ov'r there. Prob'ly take a look't th' new gen'rat'r while y'r at it." manual flips a lazy shrug for attention "Jus' cuz I c'n read it dunn mean I un'erstan' what'm readin'."
.... there..... there's that trademark grin
the easy curvature of features that encompasses all into a smile
from mouth's posture to the playful glitter ghosting deep umber eyes
it's now that he finally finds the drink of previous quest
sweating beer tilted up to curtain that expression before smoke reclaims its place
near empty bottle bouncing in gestured toast"C'n say th' same."
.... to what?
direct object of his affections hidden by sly showman's misdirection
ball's in her court as to what he meant.... as is the invitation to pull another beer from the cooler(rox)
The sound of laughter, how she liked it, not sure how many times she has seen this raggedy-man actually appear mirthful. He would probably denote the way those blue eyes lingered on him, caressing over each new detail wrapped over the old, an imprint to memory.A numbness begins to form in her left shoulder, dangling too long with the heavy leather bag clasped tightly between her fingers. She ignored the discomfort, too caught up in her appraisal of the gutter-mutt. Finally, after the AC's location has been brought to her attention. She remembers her purpose for coming here. The bag becomes forgotten again, tossed down by the edge of the carpet roll. The damnable machine could fix itself for all she cared.
A moment to past time with the 'Gnawer was not one Roxy would miss, she had never really sought the opportunity for his company before. Maybe she should change that. A few strides to the cooler, taunt frame bends over to flip the lid up with hand. Grasping a cold bottle with the other hand, Roxy closes the lid as she stands up. "Mind sharin' a spot with an ol' friend, darlin'." gesturing to the spot of floor next to James, moving to step over him his legs and claims the spot anyway.
"Hopefully, we're still on good terms..." calloused fingers grasp the neck of the bottle, twisting the cap off. The bottle lifted to press against the full line of her lips, tilted up and swallowed a long pull of the amber liquid.
(james)
"Floor'z op'n."the bottle-turned-traffic signal circles a general spot on the floor
it coincides with chin-tilt nod affirming her welcome
dark eyes forming judgement in deadpan gaze worthy of Imogen's repetoire
only after the Walker kin cops a squat would expression form
a careful combination of memory and current thought
all wiped away as his head turns gaze somewhere else
targeting his aim for the can-turned-ashtray
.... might as well not set the hard-won carpet roll on fire so early in the night"Dunn have any bad termz las' we chill'." even if the event was more steamy and tense than your average hang-out, such details falling to irrelevance with rolling shrug of sculpted shoulders "Jus' had a go 'noth'r way."
weight shifts to swivel on tailbone axis
throwing his long-ago wounded back against the huge roll of carpet
elbows taking up casual perch as legs stretch to cross ankles before the Full Moon
for all the influence the heavy moon outside should have on his Rage
it's invisable forcefield crackling a muted infreno
the Fostern Gnawer presents the picture of casual relaxation"Less you got diff'ren' idea off'a it."
there's question in the canid tilt of the Ahroun's head
curious to the repercussions of their last departure of ways
not a high point in either of their resumes, there's little doubt(rox)
She takes up the space next to the 'Gnawer, reclining back to brace the span of shoulder blades against the carpet roll. One elbow brought back to offer support as the other works the hand, holding the beer bottle. Her legs stretch out, much in the same manner as his. Several small pulls taken from the bottle, her eyes cast down to stare at the scuffed edges of steel-toed combat boots."Don't think we really left off on any bad terms," a small intake of air drawn in, filling her lungs with the second-hand smoke from his cigarette and the other in-born scents upon the air. Rusted metal on water, the odor of beer and the dull scent of motor grease stains upon her pants. "Funny, I went south ta take care some shit."
Her head cants to back, face tilted up to bring her up to the sky. She watches it, contemplative, as the dull throb of the Rage begins to swarm her senses. The emotional heat sending a crackling chill across her skin and over her spine. She wasn't afraid of Ahroun's Rage. Too ballsy for that. "I don't think any differently about it, darlin', no regrets either."
(james)
the Ahroun first answers with a low sound
rumbling growl that ebbs tide into rolling laugh
a throttle from deep down in the very center of his chest
amusement rolling contrast to the relentless waves of birthright
knowing her fear isn't in the subdermal animal's latent threat
hoping it isn't in the predator's humanistic treatise"Funny...... I wen' North a do my time."
fingers rustle in the confines of cargo pockets
first offering's his pack of Camel 99's and battered bronze Zippo
once he's got the latter back, his secondary stick of choice infiltrates the factory's scent-laden air
fragrant coils of marajuana smoke rushing to join the staling nicoteine gathering cloud above
joint's passed on negligent stretch of steel-wired arm"Why regreh?" gaze strafes sidelong glance, curiousity a variant fraction of what lingers behind those eyes "Still ha'f c'nfuse' 'bout it, myse'f."
(rox)
Again he is laughing. The Glass Walker is unsure of how to respond to it, an unnatural occurance that doesn't seem to fit in the surly raggedy-man she'd barely known. The rumbling growl that tempers the rolling tide of laughter, mingled with that brush of his Rage, draws awareness to her senses. Dark blond lashes sweep low over her cheeks, sliding deep blue eyes back over to focus on the 'Gnawer."Darlin', I don't think I'm used ta this new light I'm seein' in ya. I like the way ya laugh.. makes ya less ornery than from what I remember," she tips her beer towards him, finishing it off.
The beer bottle finds a place on the pavement next to her, the offerings of a smoke and lighter snatched up with her free hand. She sets the Camel between her lips, flicking the battered bronze Zippo open with quick snap of her fingers, fire meets tip until tobacco burns. Calloused fingers clip the Zippo shut, handing it back to him. Slight contact made in the passing of her fingers over his hand, in its return to ownership.
She takes a deep pull from the cigarette, lungs filled with sweet nicotine and then slowly, expells the smoke from her nostrils. She takes it in hand, brushing a few strands of hair from her forehead. "Why confused about it? It happened. I wanted it ta happen." She studies him, trying to decipher what the oddity was about Ahrouns and her attraction for them was. Hoping maybe this one could answer that question for her.
(james)
the crooked curve across his lips is downright..... playful
previously rare and unnatural occurrance admist the surly raggedyman she barely knows
yet the expression seems so fucking natural it's bordering unholy
Ahrouns are creatures of violence and war, born and built to stand on Gaia's frontlines
not the good-natured grins and downright mellow aura commanding the night"Guess cuz I nev'r saw't comin'....."
phrase built on the built-up lungful of weedly smoke
foggy cloud whooshing towards the empty room and ceiling beyond
dark gaze contemplates it's tea-leave divination for a moment
then lazily swings back towards the newly fixed up Peroxide Fox
offering a half-smile that's now edging on..... shyly boyish recollection?"S'how I used a be." glittering gaze peers up from behind the curtain of shoulder-length dreads "'fore th' hear'break'n Harano ma'e me so fuck'n' o'n'ry."
(rox)
A heartbeat. stops...
The slender arch of blond eyebrows tilt up at the playful curve of his lips. She was getting a fine treat of his humor tonight. Perhaps, she'll attribute it to Mary Jane for the 'Gnawer's playful air.Roxy clears her throat, taking another pull off her cigarette as the smoke mingles with the cloudy plume of weed. She breathes it all in, acknowledgement of a second-hand contact buzz resulting from the action. The Peroxide Fox shifts her weight forward, elbow knocked back to push her weight up. She scoots an inch closer to James, leaning over to stretch out a hand.
Her fingers brush aside the curtain of shoulder-length dreads, "I like it. This.. ol'James. Nice." She can read the shyly boyish recollection in his face, bringing forth a cheshire's grin upon her own lips. "I like ta be spontaneous I guess. Keeps the excitement fresh and new," she tilts her head to the side, meeting those umber eyes of his with her own blue orbs. "So ya finally over them hangups, James?"
(james)
again, that strange, strange, wholly natural laugh
rumble of amusement both sounding his throat and sparkling his eyes
this must be the easy-going PR department of mighty Eagle pack
or..... James got his hands on some seriously potent weed
it seems only time will show curious Roxy the answers to her questions"Cer'n'ly surprise me."
the grin's forever lopsided behind that curtain of brushed-aside dreads
flickering a breif faltering admission in a moment of levity
the exposure of raw emotion riding away on the heels cavalier tease
slanting glance and swiftly-chasing shrug making ropey curtain fall yet again
excuse drawn in the stretch of torso for his near-forgotten near-finished beer"Dunna..... guess't depen's a which hang ups y'r concern' 'bout."
post-swallow position leaves little of his eyes obscured
dreadlocks falling to their proper arrangement most out of his face
dark eyes revealing there's nothing hidden in their reflection
if..... anything can be translated from their depths to begin with
at the very least - he isn't shying from her conversation(rox)
Roxy wasn't sure she'd get used to this or not, for now attributing the lightness of the Ahroun's humor to Mary Jane's kiss. She looks down at her own cigarette, flicking away ashes before she stabs the half-smoke into her empty beer bottle. "Fuck it. I ain't goin' ta work tamorrow. I can crash here or in the truck."She reaches over to steal away the joint from James, pressing it to her lips and inhales rather deeply on the first puff. Her eyes close for a moment, squeezing tight, before the smoke quickly expells from her lungs. A slight cough in aftereffect, she takes another smaller hit before handing it back to him.
"Ya make me miss mah own dreads, James," she laughs, nudgeing his shoulder with her own tattooed one. "I shouldn't have cut mah hair..." fingers steal up to brush back the short locks, making a slight face as Roxy lays back against the carpet roll. "Yar hangups over women. Still swearin'em off or ya on the market again?"
(james)
the kinswoman reaches to steal joint right from the predator's lips
James doing his part in the show by allowing that lip to curl
half-sneer forshadowing a deep-chested growl of territoriality that should come
but as her eyes close mid-hit.... he allows the mocked expression to melt away
smirking as she chokes the toke and he reclaims his J"Seem' time f'r a summ'r cut." the quickly approaching roach notches somewhere between teeth and crooked grin, fingers floating up to play through notably shortened "bangs," lengths flip-flopping freely due to their lack of collective weight, the haphazard movement seeming to fit in place above thoughtfully absent grin "Guess I let go've a few thingzzz holdin' me down 'long th' way."
her nudge did little to even move his shoulder in the slightest
tattoos reaching for ashen scars as summer-tanned flesh meets
buff-cut musculature of a feminine wrench-turner meeting the chiseled granite of a War Machine
self-conscious shrug emits delayed reaction that shifts his weight against the carpet roll"I'sss lef' me sumwhere in'tween tha', I think." half-breath pause unmasks the naked honesty in his reply "I know the greif'z stop. But dunna 'bout bein' ready f'r 'nother mate, ye'h."
(rox)
The deep-chested growl registers a response from Roxy, in that way it seems to set Tristan off as well. The soft rumble almost resonates in the core of her body, causing the Glass Walker to squirm slightly. She lowers her lashes, heavy-lidded now, over blue eyes. The mellow effects of the joint spreading to relax Roxy's from the stress of the day.It also loosened other parts of her nature that were usually held within check, a soft roll of laughter erupts from the whisky-husk drawl of her voice. A sensual undertone to the vocal arrangement. She tucks one arm behind her head, watching him at an angle. "S'good ya finally able ta let go, James, I understand how ya feel about not ready ta buckle down again with a mate." reaches out to playful push him with her hand, "Doesn't mean ya halfta be a monk though, little fun never killed anyone.."
As in afterthought, she breathes out a soft sigh, "Better be careful with the way ya growl at me, boy. I won't hold mahself responsible if anything happens as a result of it. Might have ta throw ya down and finish what I started in the Nova."
(james)
if the Gnawer Elderman intended any specific reaction to his growl
any reaction to her own response doesn't make its way to his features
joint-effect-relaxation already racking up across his senses
predator's heightened scanning picking up each notation as it comesbreathy sigh
muscles uncoil
carefree laughter
whiskeyed drawl
sensual undertonesher playful push meets the same result as earlier nudge
little to no weightshift before the jovial assault
bicep simply flexes bringing the fingertipped roach between his teeth
final hit sucked down before the leftovers get flicked to the Roach Gods
only after held-in hit exhales does the Ahroun construct an answer"Nuh. Dunn think it ev'r did." the way his smile glimmers above yet another shrug of scarred shoulders speaks of three things related to the words riding his next breath: a) he wasn't ignoring her for what he merely wanted to hear, b) he didn't expect to share any justification though honestly couldn't see why not as conversation fits, and c) he probably may not be speaking so much out of preference as perhaps experience..... and, even beyond that, there is a fourth element hanging between half-cocked smile and half-hidden gaze..... the idea in and of itself is something he probably never considered in terms of himself. "Ain' nev'r been a one-nigh'-stan' sorta guy."
sniping quip to her (promising?) tease never comes
while the edges of his smile retain the easy-humor of their jest
the sudden reunion turned honest truths seems to take precedence(rox)
"Hmm..." the soft hum rumbles from her throat, pulling the lush full line of her mouth into a lazy smile. Her head, angled to the side, to get a better look at the 'Gnawer. The flirtations seem to die simmer for now in Roxy, a quiet contemplative expression writ upon the sun-kissed features of her face."I can understand why ya wouldn't, shugah," the topic makes her reflect on her own experiences. Remembering snippets of conversations with Decker about her being unable to get a date. She hadn't been with anyone since the break up of her own tumultuous love affairs with two of her own tribe mates. The pack alpha and his omega. "Never liked one night stands mahself I tend ta get attached ta people.. sometimes too quickly for mah own good."
With a grunt, Roxy tries to pull herself up, her hands drop down to the ground, pushing as her torso curls forward. She leans to the side, using James as a brace. He's been the unmoveable mountain tonight, every time she's nudged at him. This time should be no different. Pivoting towards him, Roxy drops her chin to the sculpted curve of his scarred shoulder. Narrowing blue eyes as she stares off at the line of dark water.
Moments of silence begin to lapse between them, no words flicker to the fore front of her mind. She couldn't think of anything else to say.
(james)
before there was absently warm laughter, even play-fierce growls
though now? James entertains his own moments of silent consideration
half-distracted as the blond, ballsy kin rearranges herself quite comfortable
the as-of-yet granite-hard muscle tightens yet further
a split-second's surprise jolting the Ahroun out of his thoughtsa breath slowly heaves the planes across bare chest
flesh warm as it is strong, further heated by the birthright inferno beneath
dreads spidering across shoulders when his head gently tips away
dark eyes peering over the hard lines of rugged cheek at the head resting on his frame
somewhat startled at the sudden proximity and affection
somewhat relieved at the companionship without expectation or (... current) agendawere he to shift his skull the other direction, he'd so easily rest jawline against the roots of blonde
no stretch to gaze across the very same dark waters and lose himself within a couple's wordless moment
(..... how positively romantic of you, Jamey-boy, so you haven't forgotten how...)"My pro'lem's jus' opp'site." instead of jaw, gently chuffed laughter spreads out warm breath against her hair, words little more than humid murmur "Too hard a get 'ttach'd 'nuff f'r romance wh'n yeh can' promise'm t'morrah. Ev'ry time I did.... en'ed horr'bly."
time passes with the tick of lapping waves
counter-cadent beat to the drumming rhythm of his heart and breath
she couldn't think of anything else to say
he didn't know what could follow his latest truth"S'on y'r mine?"
(rox)
James was probably going to be jolted in surprise again, by another display of affection from the Peroxide Fox. She felt the slight recoil of muscles under her chin, wondered if he would pull away, surprised when he doesn't, a little bit grateful that he doesn't. She draws in a soft inhalation of air, causing the soft swells of her chest to lift and brush briefly against his back. Fishnet against skin as she leans closer, trying to fit against the curve of his body.With the sudden proximity of Roxy so close, his dark gaze caught the curve of her cheek, the faint, yellow discoloration of an old bruise that halos a small, pink cut, scabbed over and scarring. A recent mark to the plethora of scars and wounds that her body has sustained in the past.
She listens to him, more aware of her surroundings than she appears to be. Her tongue darts out to wet across her lips, before answering the 'Gnawer, her breathe a warm breeze tickling his shoulder, "Just memories, shugah," flicking her eyes away from the line of water to peer at him in her side vision.
He can feel the slight tickle of calloused fingertips press gently into his forearm, snaking up over muscles, past elbow and to the curve of his bicep. Another more intimate gesture that seems out of place with the hard-edge Kin.
(james)
given their last encounter, by all rights and purposes he should have pulled away
even their conversation thus far should have the leaning pseudo-embrace setting off alarms
any amount of self-preservation should have James denying its continuation
yet the lanky guttermutt accepts each passing second, inhale, squirm to fit
the aire of earned trust and second chances coming from the most unlikely of places
Eagle Pack as a whole known for the brutal finality of their actions[Eagle promised he would teach James compassion]
"Yeh?"
confirmation enacting more of a half-sigh than actual syntax
skull shifted to focus on the healing wound in habit rather than concern
huffed breath shifting blond just enough to reveal the once damanged skin beneath
more than aware of the Peroxide Fox's ability to hold her own, it isn't a mothering gesture
one Warrior's ascertation of another's, study of wounds for treatment or glory
breif concern shown long enough to note without pry
explanation is a choice quite Roxy's ownso instead, his gaze follows gravity's call towards his left forarm
watching the slight tickle of fingertips against gradually tanning flesh
skimming touch climbing to elbow and bicep on bridges of steely tendon
his fist draws open and closed by absent flex across digits and palm
discreetly trailing her journey by subdermal cast of sinew and fiber
an eyebrow cants curious arch, though words are not quick to follow(rox)
Given the tone of earlier conversation, the flirtations tossed from the blond now pressed into James, by all means, he has every right to pull away. She half-expects him to, anticipates some subtle rejection at her actions. However, the intimate caress of her hand, the press of her body to his, the touch of her chin to his shoulder; wasn't done out of seduction, nor to gain some arousal out of him.This was a more subtler side to the Glass Walker, one not seen so often, beneath the rough and wild exterior she portrayed herself. She couldn't explain why she did this, it just felt natural to Roxanne to cozy up to the easy-going 'Gnawer. Sometimes a person just needed the touch of another human being to feel comfort, to remember what it was like to be human. Roxy had her moments of weakness, this was one of them. Even she was still female beneath that ballsy outer skin.
Another indrawn breathe, lips part to speak, rushing warm breath across his bare skin once more. She moves her eyes back to the dark horizon of water, narrowing them to blue slits. Her fingers descend down his arm, following the same path they created, only to repeat it over and over. "Several months ago, when I'd gone in for the surgery ta fix mah face. Doctors looked me with a complete physical. Found some things wrong with me that I haven't been able ta cope with, even ta this day..." a quick snap of her eyes back to him, "We talk about how we's not really lookin' for mates so soon. I'm goin' ta have a harder time o'it this round, James, if I ever do perk another Garou's interests."
(james)
the lengthening night witnesses a subtler side to both Gaia's children
an Ahroun's calm familiarity beneath Luna's swollen face
a kinswoman's intimate connection beyond her hard-edged mask
each allows some leverage to the other's hesitant gesture
accepting the gentle tug-of-war battling to find balance before the river's voidal shoreJames waits for Roxy to speak, silently
easy encouragement spoken by play of muscle and bone
another game of cat and mouse held between finger and flex
idle distraction from what the animal's instinct feels gatheringcourage built with each repetition of fingers climbing his arm
the quick snap of clear blue eyes meets with earthen gaze
the Walker's rare moment of weakness bright in furtive glance
the Gnawer's rare exhibition of human soul in animal's steady regard"Yeh?"
a single word paraphrasing educated guess
it's clear James could probably guess the matter with ease
or immediately fall into the Nation's expected role of Garou over kin
harping on the responsibilities each bears to the days that follow tomorrowanother rarity..... a ranking Ahroun maintaining his silence to allow a battered kinswoman the dignity of telling the story in her own voice
(rox)
It's his silence that allows her to continue, retaining some iota of diginity as this Kin entrusts him with her little secret. He could guess and yet she'll tell him. "Childless," a casual shrug of her shoulders, trying to regard it as if it were nothing, "Must've happened durin' a fight Yuliya and I got inta with a fomori. I was gored by a tentacle. Don't remember if'n yar around for that or not. Cliona patched me up, bore a nasty scar from it in the end."For a kinfolk to lose one's ability of procreation was a major drawback to the survival of a dying species. She could be seen as nothing in the eyes of her tribe, or any politcally-conscious fuck that was litany bound. Roxy could even lose face, not that it mattered to her. She was useful in other ways than, had other marketable skills... It made one wonder why she told James. Perhaps, as a precursor to let him now what he got into, if anything more ever transpired between the Peroxide Fox and the 'Gnawer Elderman.
"It's gettin' late." She seems reluctant to pull away, her hand pauses on his arm, fingers curled around his bicep.
(james)
the rugged lines of his chin drop notably down in confirmation
(...... he already knew....)
role reversal of his pack's trademark, universal, upward nod
dreadlocks drawn forward and down to the cruel perameters of physics
working as if thin, spidery fingers reaching to hold her confession withina secret kept as it had been shared in faith
"Nuh.... think I w'z jus' 'roun' f'r the af'ermath a tha'..... " little more than a sighed phrase strong enough to reach her ears but not beyond, momentary tenderness drawing delayed apology for his relentless lecture now that the matter is long past (....oh, but the consequences, Jamey-boy, those are the things that linger forever.....) "Guess't jus' anoth'r common thread a 'tween us. Kids lifespanz seem a short'n 'roun' me....."
the final words pass his lips as barely a whisper
were Roxy not curled so close she may have missed them completely
angle of their heads affording sheild for the Ahroun's shifting gaze
ghosts of long-forgotten past clawing their way to pain earthen orbs
rising unfettered now that heartache's soothe had weakened his guard
she cannot witness the translation of emotion across his features
but the reflex blistering of Rage beneath his skin is unmistakablea precursor to warn the kinfolk of what accompanies the things she will get into, should anything more ever transpire between the Peroxide Fox and Elderman Gnawer
it disappears just as quickly
lost in the silence required to rearrange his thoughts
head slanting so that the hard-edge Walker sees only lazy, lopsided grin
neither judging nor condemning the woman for her confessionthey all have their demons, they all mantle past sins, they all bear the twisted scars of what sacrifices fall at the feet of Gaia - he knows there are greater things to value beyond savaged remains
"Already said y'r not leavin', din'cha?" humor returns on the music of low-throated chuckle, calloused palm covers hers across his flexed muscle with gentle squeeze that recognizes her reluctance to draw away just yet "Hel' me drag tha' empty mattr'ss by mi'e."
[fade out, and nothing happens you filthy minded bastards!]
Posted by james at June 20, 2005 12:00 AM