July 18, 2005
.07.18.05. - ain't propa less its face t'face [decker-nelly]

[forums]

(nelly)
Naturally no one in this city answers their phones on the first ring. So a message upon the answering machine was left. The southen bell of the Knights voice crackled over the line along with the background noise of metal against metal...

"Hey, need to speak with the head man... Put that down, hey! Don't you look at me in that tone of voice..." a breath, "Sorrry what was I saying, oh yeah, need to meet up with the head man for a quick meeting, nothing big. Let me know when ya get a chance, thanks... I said put it down. That's it, I'm coming in there...."

Dead line.

(decker)
Decker, coming in from the outside, hears the tail end of the message and dives for the phone just as Nelly's setting it down. "Hey. HEY! Wait." When he gets her back on the line, "Fuck's this headman shit? You know my name. Hell you want, Walker?"

(nelly)
The phone was handed off a few times before it got back to Nelly. Out of breath she sounded, "Huh.. oh, shall I of grunted the message?" a chuckle, "A quick meet, either ya or Rhya James. Ain't no trouble, don't ya fret, Mobile. But its a query ah don't ask ova a phone lahn. Ain't propa less its face t'face..." a echo of some voice or another in the background, thin echo of music faintly heard.

(decker)
"Know where we are. Come on tha turf 'n we'll findja."

(nelly)
"Thank ya kindly sir.... be there [blah]..." waiting for the typical Decker goodbye (dead line) before she herself would hang up.


(decker)
And dead line is what she gets.

At some point, one supposes Nelly makes her way onto Eagles turf. It doesn't take too long for Decker to catch up to her, cruising by 20mph in his Tacoma. He brakes and hauls around in a U-turn to park at the curb. The door slams as he gets out to meet her.

"Fuck's this all about?" Great; he's even more irritable now. The moon's close to full, and he doesn't like being called out to deal with shit. And what else would he do with his time, one asks? Absolutely nothing. But that wasn't the point.


(james)
moon's close to full, tires chirp too tight a flipped bitch, and doors slam enough to set the Tacoma's frame rocking on it's beefed up (and much abused) suspension

James didn't need much of a radar to locate Nelly and his Alpha
quick TotemPhone summary had him heading in the general direction running interception
Luna's weightgain2000 monthly effects on Eagle Pack's Ahrouns provided the rest
at least the Gnawer's salutation is a far cry friendlier than his packmate's
the Walker receiving a crooked-grin-nod-up combo upon his arrival
weight leveraged up to perch on the 4x4's bedrail, heels notched on the tire for balance
supersized Blueberry Icee held out towards Decker in habitual offering
attentive silence otherwise perpetuated by the motions of lighting up a Camel to take its place between his teeth

(nelly)
It took her the entire walk to finally get in a better mood. Clothes just sucked, she would have much rather just stayed nude but ya know... somethin' bout etiquette and jail time...

So there she was, putting 'one toe over the line (dear Jesus)'... well ok, her whole body was over the boundary lines. Eagle land. A bus stop bench she claimed. Body [clad in little more than a pair of low ridden, torn, daisy duke jean shorts, a black cropped tank top with purple letters across it reading 'Pussy Control', and fire red cowboy boots] was splayed out across the bench. Laying on her back, one leg dangling off the edge to sway idly back and forth like a tire swing on a southern summer day. Her head propped against a brown cardboard box, she hummed as she waited.

Course, who could miss the Tacoma? Her head lobbed to the side as the tires came to a screaching halt. [Goddamn hot truck]. A brow arching slightly as the door slamed and the rage of the Adren hit the alrady hot-as-hell air. She sat up, hands coming between her legs to clutch the edge of the park bench. Rage washed over her in a choking tidal wave. [Now thats what I'm talkin' bout]. Decker bellowing [Rar to you too!] at her like some great Ape [Goddamn Get men are just sexy as shit]. She smiled as the thought flashed in her mind [tear ya ass up]. Yet her ocean blue eyes slapped her around [its Decker ya twit...blech] and the smile turned into a pouted frown [oh yeah. Good thing he can't read minds].

She tore her gaze from his chest and stood up, "Ya want the short version or the King James version?" turning to take the box up in her arms, she already knew the answer. [Just grunt it out], "So this is ya'lls..." taking a step away from Decker and towards the Tacoma.

It was the appearance of James that brought her up short. Head tilted, grin fell across her lips. Her skin seemed to dance between the pulsing hot rage of Decker and the cooled facade of Jukebox. [When did he get here? Ohhh slurpy!] Another foot forward, "Howdy, Mista, how ya doin?" to James and she was making her way to the tailgate of the Tacoma.

She raised on the toes of her boots to set the box in the bed of the truck, "Few thins from us to ya'll. Propas," those blues sweeping over the back of the truck before she turns around to step back on the curb, "Short version was it? Ya'll gots the hospital in ya area. We got a few of our kins workin there, gonna need t'make sure s'all raght for them t'be passin thru everyday to get there..." a glance between the two as her words settled.


(decker)
Decker waves off the icee, preferring to frown unabated at Nelly. Though, when she finally does get to the point, a toothy smirk flexes crooked over his mouth.

"Hell, we ain't never had issues with people walkin' through our turf." Unlike the Knights, his tone says. "Long as they don't cause no problems."

Tit for tat though:

"While yer here. Imogen gits called all over tha city fer her job. Need ta know she ain't gonna git harassed if she's on yours, lookin' at a crime scene."

(james)
smoke's stablilized between the Gnawer's even white teeth
lips drawing back to shape slightly lopsided grin
fingers lifting to grasp the invisable brim of invisably tipping hat
(.... well howdy they-ah ya'self, Ma'am....)
gently chiding the Walker's short-stop-near-double-take
(...... why..... it was magic!....)
his version of ice-breaking conversation far less biting than the Get's

the difference between Eagle packs two Adren Ahrouns is almost amazing, isn't it?
beyond the obvious physical attributes setting them at opposite ends of the spectrum
one's searing choke of tidal wave Rage, the other's comparably cool facade
one's toothy, crooked smirk offsetting the other's jovial, crooked grin
even so near the ominous true Full - James appears downright friendly

"Dandy." declined Icee's carefully tucked into a safe corner of the truck's Rhino-lined bed, and the guttermutt half-rotates into a stretch helping Nelly get the box settled with minimal gymnastics on her part to overcome the raised frame's height "Y'rsel'?"

chin lifts for half nod-up both acknowledging the request and his own similiar opinion
though return to attentive silence defers the final call as his Alpha's

(leroy)
LeRoy had been there. He needed the visit to fetch needed supplies. The Kitchen supply house or Cisco Shop was within the Eagle's turf. Inside mostly though while Nelly lingered out. He hadn't yet noticed that the two Eagle's were about.

It came as no shock though when he stepped out. Two full bags of kitchen items; pans, cookwares, utensils etc etc. Carried in his arms.

"Eve'n" He chuckled rather, glancing down towards the two. A smile though greatly shown and cracked upon the Bee Gee Ahroun. A definate favoring nod offered.

Yet these seemed intent upon something nother? What was it again? Riaaaght. passing territorial boundary rights. Kinfolks cross'n over each. Then he happened to catch Decker's request. Summing up the answer for Nelly instead.

"Long aint no clip of silver..dont riaghtly care what she does. Unlike others..she only gives you shit Deck..." chuckling rather instead, his eyes shift upon James. "Member I want'd a talk which ya both..bout Kin?" Shuffling the bags in his arms. He knew at least one of them would think it was obviously over something as ridiculous as him wanting to restrict or complain about one of their own. He'd be pleased to disappoint them.

"Ya'll were say'n someth'n bout a kin gutt'n folks. Aint riaght. Im whicha on whateva ya'll need. Got m'word on dat shiet indeed. But wez..or at least I..not talk'n fur everyone toniaght...ave noticed someth'n pek-coular. Ya know how everythin happen's in threes? Fates in all dat shiet? We'z got this murder'n shiet..them Lords got a problem I ear wit there own kin..somethin mystical or whatnot..aint got it down particulars n whatnots. Den wez gots some issues too...kin. Im think'n the worst..me be'n what I am n all. Not riaghtly know'n them spirits...but I think Wyrm..and I think tis fuck'n thru our kin. Cleva liake and indiscriminate." But before he continued, he was moving towards the parked van on the side of the corner away from them. "Let me stow dis shiet"


(nelly)
Those lazy lidded eyes drifted to Decker at his innuendo, "Consida yaself lucky then..." a smirk of a smile, "And we ain't eva had a problem with ya woman. She's a good girl. Ain't gonna get in her way if she needin t'come in..."

A beat and she exhaled a breath, turning her head just slightly so her gaze fell up to James, "And ahm good, mista, thanks...ya know one day ya gonna have to satisfy mah curiosity bout..." it was LeRoy's voice that brought her up short this time.

She turned her head quickly to find him. Hard to miss the large black man. A brow arched, hands going to her hips in wonderment. A beat of lashes and a shrug is all she displayed at the end of her packmates words. Her face melting back into 'yes-I-am-a-blond-and-no-one-is-home' look. Toothy grin and all.


(decker)
Well, Decker was a blond himself, so he didn't buy that no-brains shit.
(Though, others might believe it of him.)

Flicking a glance at LeRoy, the Modi grunts. His frown seems to darken.

"You been beatin' 'round tha bush every time this su'ject done come up fer tha last two months. If yer sayin' you don't think we kin trust some'a tha kin, quit sugarcoatin' it." He folds his tattooed arms across his chest, leaning back against the flank of the Tacoma. "Jus' tell me who, 'n why ya think so."


(leroy)
"Frankly I dont really give a damn if you think Im Willy Wonka or heir to fuck'n Hersey. I aint sugar coat'n shiet. But since ya want the point. I'll get to it real quick liake. I got two in m'hood I gotta watch out for. In the head, in m'gut tells me somethin aint riaght. Them Lords need to look to their own. As for this one yer talk'n bout. I aint got no info cept whatcha already told. In short..I dont have a pot to piss in other than concerns. So you call that hint'n.." And LeRoy shrugs with a chuckle "I'll call it questions..I gots em..and Im only lett'n ya know bout em. Do whatcha want with it. We can either work together and dispense with this me jane you Tarzan shiet..or we can go our seperate ways and try it out on our own. Your pack..my pack..them Lords I guess. He'll I haven't even approached them. Dont know em." A rueful smile as he returned towards them. There was a defensive glance. Sure perhaps his words might spark something if not ire in the fenrir. But at this moment? Who fucking cares? All LeRoy wanted was someone to listen to the concern he wished to share. "Now..Im for work'n together..how bout ya'll?" His brow quipped as he stole a gander upon the two Eagles. "As fur who? I said it. That Shadow Lord girl I've eard bout...gossip spreads ya know..then those Barny tucked under his wing...the Twins. Something with them aint normal. Even our Theurge's abit puzzled. Im think'n perhaps yers miaght know somethin we don't. And as for this murder'n kin? Well m'answer to that is real simple. Do we kill em? Or..." Leaving it open. Either way, most definately able to lean either way on that one. Just say the word.

Both brows rise, eyes wide and given towards James. "By the by..poker? Next Saturday even'n? Do I need tae save ya a seat? Fifty dolla minum..less we play for somethin else..we Coggies easy that way..." Offering that geniune smile towards the BeeGee. Making no qualms nor effort in disguising his liking of him over the other. Shit happens that way.

(decker)
Decker is wary, coiled and narrow-eyed. He shifts his weight ever so slightly, ever so smoothly, from one leg to the other. Settles it between both, feet planted, arms still folded. Back still against the truck -- but he's not leaning quite so much now.

"Ain't gonna turn this inta some sorta kin witch-hunt, B'n'B." Yeah, that's how he pronounces it: Bee-en-Bee. "Kin turn jus' as easy as Garou. Don't mean I'm goin' ta start lookin' sideways at all tha kin any more'n I do tha trueborn."

Did someone reverse their scripts? The Get arguing for tolerance, the Coggie arguing for scrutiny?

"'ll keep yer warnin' in mind though," he adds. "'N pass it on ta my pack."

Now the stormladen eyes fall to Nelly, as the Modi waits, patient as a rattler, to see if the woman had anything else to say.


(nelly)
She had been signaling to James, in a round about sort of way, to get to the package first. Few jars of BBQ sauce and jar of hussled backwater Alabama moonshine were just the few items in the box.

At the end of Butta's words, then the Get's, her chest rose with a taken breath, "Ah think it was more long the lahns of 'lets get everyone togetha to work on all the afflicted kin'... buuuut," a shrug. Get made his mind up. Ooga booga.

Her gaze snapped from the ground to the Fenri's chest, skin prickling with the wash of rage from him. [So much rage near the full moon. He wold be primed tomorrow, no...maybe at his peek the next night.] Without thought she began to pace in a small circle, brows furrowed in thought. [Maybe he'll just sit in the warehouse, smoke till he passes out. Drink till he passes out. Maybe he'll scour his side of town ravenously. Kill a few banes. He won't get off, not this one. Won't relase the hound, not fully.]

"Whens the last tahm ya saw the flash of a White Tail...." words blurted out before she had time to stop them. She paused as her hands placed on her hips. Those ocean blue eyes drifted from man to man, "Nice, round piece 'o ass... primed muscle workin' the meat just so it slides off the bone...teeth grippin nice strong thick pulse, lockin it down..rollin it with ya tongue till ya feel it slowly die away... nine, maybe ten point... waaaay past Jack's turf.... out at Wolf Creek ya know," nodding in the general northwestern direction. A tanned shoulder shrugged, "Food for thought," [feed the beast].

She had already decided to take atleast one more with her on the hunt. The city slickers weren't very fond of the idea and on her latest report from the hunting lodges, the kill was prime.

"Thanks for takin the tahm for meetin', know ya'lls busy. Give a holla..." a honey slow wink. She pivoted upon her heel to begin her saunter off. Nelly Bell? Insane? Nahhh.


(james)
the big black Coggie's addition to their little Garou powwow is hardly missed
not that it would be by any mere passer-by growing suddenly fonder of the other side of the street
but the impression's made on those comfortably claiming this slab'o'cement as throne, too
James tipping the Icee straw to temple in deceptively lazy Full Moon salute
crooked grin reflecting what easy familiarity he feels for LeRoy above and beyond his packmate's

it may also be amusement channeled into an avenue that saves his own tail at the witty remark..... but any evidence of that is covered by a well-timed swallow of OtterPop worthy sugarhigh

a brow lifts towards Nelly's topic of curiosity
but before that gets clarified any further - the topic as a whole speeds on ahead
guess he'll have to bring that up again during that drink he still owes
for sure as shit there's a comment or three in there that's guaranteed his further silence
hind-quarter of his jaw bulging into a knot with the way teeth grit and clench
there's a rippling bristle of the Gnawer's own Rage..... but his proverbial feathers are forcibly smoothed

....... hopefully, anyway

distraction welcome enough following the Walker's covert signals
weight stretching over one well-planted Corcoran II until rightly balanced
rummaging through the box's contents while still keeping one ear on conversation
at least it offers a way to spend a little of that so recently pent-up energy
picking one of the capped mason jars to anticipatingly approve its contents
judging yet another as perhaps a little too "hot" for his palette
(.....if you think you're a lightweight on commercially distilled libations, Jamey-boy, you've got another thing coming, here....)
a little expression of appreciation edged in sideways to the verbal exchange, proper

"Yeh, coun' me f'r a seat." finally getting around - or is that relaxed enough? - to answering LeRoy's yet-dangling offer "Figg'r I c'n come up wi'h s'methin' worth puttin' on th' table - we Bee Gee'z're resourceful tha' way."

humor-tipped quip identifying how welcome a chance of pace may be
while they're all born and built to step up to the next battle with little preparation
an evening of R'n'R backed by B'n'B's rib-stickin' grub fits his definition of vacation
such offerings few and far between to Gaia's tried and true soldiers

a honey-slow wink, and one Knight turns to saunter off
with the other's question apparently addressed - it seems the meeting's about to adjourn
James refolds the box flaps and gathers the package back into itself
weight shifting to leverage off bedrail and to sidewalk in relatively graceful sort of way
balancing what's left in the Icee's cup through opening up King cab's back door
and wedging the box quite firmly onto the backseat
in fact, on second thought, he seatbelts the damned thing right in
knowing the Modi's school of driving, better safe than sorry if they want it back at the packhouse in one piece

cardoor slams shut, and deep umber eyes flick to his Alpha
a double check to query anything else that could require his attention
otherwise, he's half-pivoted to aim a whistle after Murphy's Law
one more thing to cover but it doesn't need group debate

(nelly)
The whistle brought her gaze to glance over a shoulder. She stopped, turned around and sauntered back to James. Thumbs hooking into her empty belt loops, simple smile slipping across her pink lips.

"Yes'ir," a nod and she kept her gaze upon his chest.

(james)
for all that sizzle and saunter and simple pink smile slippery
and what one would expect from the wolf-in-man's-clothing
it wasn't a contentional "wolf whistle" at all - just a sound to get her attention
amusement lengthens noting her eyes are firmly stuck on his chest

....... wouldn't something like that normally be the other way around?
talk about an evening of role-reversals - the hell?

"At ease.... sol'jer." an Ahroun beneath gravid full should growl, closest he gets at this point is low, rolling chuckle rumbling out of that point-of-focus chest "'sides I ain' goh th' rack fit f'r starin'."

Luna's near perfect, silvery circle brings out the strangest things in her True Born
most harbor the bulk of inner fury clipped precariously to their sleeve
others withdraw as if themselves leery this living nightmare all too haphazardly leashed
and still others invest in some wholly offbeat element normally cloistered from public eye
thankfully, July's Buck Moon is affecting James in such a strangely unique fashion
it is not his bloodlust that thirsts satiation, but rather his own curiosity
Fate still tempted as he angles steps leading away from

"Yeh dunn finish askin' a ques'ion, 'fore?"


(nelly)
She smiled softly, "Ah donno... depends on who ya ask, eh?" the chuckle shook her shoulders and she looked up at him, "Ah well guess over a beer maybe next tahm. About how ya attained the new commandin rank. Ya know how them stories just buttas mah toast. Still, ain't gonna hold ya'll up any longa," pointing up to the sky. Full Moon rising.

She wait any response from the three men before slipping towards the van.


(james)
"Look me up wh'n She start' hidin'r face 'gain." low chuckle following a knowing smile - beer + Ahroun + Full probably not the best arrangement for swapping tales - though it likely isn't that particular reason which lends a boyish glean to the tail end of that lopsided curve "'n I'll tellya what'cha wanna know..... leas' b'fore too many beer' requirezzzzz'a translat'r a finish th' story."

playful wink tossed in to punctuate the end
thankfully the slur's impending doom upon decreased sobriety will save his ass in leiu of being a rather unfortunate lightweight
(....bad enough Imogen regularly drinks him under the table....)

Posted by james at July 18, 2005 12:00 AM