July 24, 2005
.07.24.05. - frantic [tristan] *ul

[downtown]

(tristan)
The call made- and voice mail picked up. Strain is thick in the voice of the prettyboi - and he's pacing a path in the new carpet of the new place. James hasn't even seen it yet. Not exactly the night of dinner and video games he had planned to show off his new status as kept boi, hm?

Voice mail, yes. "Hey, bro. I... fuck. I need your help - stop by my place, please? It's Andrea...details when you get here." His voice cracks, and he doesn't bother saying goodbye, just closes the phone and tosses it on the couch. Momma hasn't called back yet either - could be good, could be bad. fuckfuckfuck"fuckfuckFUCK!"

Hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans - which happens to be all he's wearing at the moment - and he stares out at the fabulous view. And doesn't see a fucking bit of it. All he can think of is her....


(james)
there's something to be said about transportation a la Gnawer
for the most part, it goes as it goes - subway, cab, or even Nike express
however, after the voicemail he just received
James concluded that such things simply aren't good enough
and it's about then the hotwired car skids to a stop infront of the.....

....... good Gaia Almighty his brother moved into the fuckin Ritz......

in another world, the Adren would simply stare at the building before him
double-checking the address to make sure he didn't get lost somewhere along the way
Tristan had mentioned it was a pretty upscale sorta pad..... but..... this was more than the raggedyman expected

the prettyboi isn't the only Tribe that doesn't see a friggen bit of the fabulous setting
whatever protests may come of security are silenced with a look from the dreadlocked hoodlum striding through the doors
right on up to floor number five, door number three-twenty-one
it's about all the restraint the Full Moon has left keeping fist to just knocking on the door
instead of knocking it right off it's hinges

(tristan)
They'll stare later. later there will be grand tours. He'll even show him the gym, and 24 hour store, and all the amenities. Especially that Jacuzzi tub in the master bath attached to the master bedroom that Rox insisted he take. Just like the waterbed. But again - that's for the next, hopefully happy visit.

Doormen and security silenced with a glare, and it's all he can do not to break the door down - and somehow, by the second knock (pound) on the door, Tristan is there and pulling it open. There's a weight limit on pets, and a frustrated growly Jukebox would shoot that all to hell, don'tcha think?

First things first, however, he just grabs James and holds on - long minute that passes in the span of a single breath. Then the first barrage of words fall... "Momma called. She's gone - they can't find her there's bodies in some house and her id and she's hoping Ani's headed here instead and..."

Stop. Slow down. It's clear he's absolutely frantic and grasping for control. If he were trueborn, he'd be rippling through forms in failing attempts at control... as it is, he just pulls James inside and closes the door.

There was only one other occasion he was this upset... and that was waiting to see if James had survived the caern raising, when no one knew for sure... but no one was there to see it.

(james)
second hammer and door flings open
the lanky Gnawer is all but whisked inside - without even a prenuptual kiss at the threshhold
there's a period of stunned blinks at some point inside the bear hug
arms wrapped around the prettyboi on instinct rather than compassionate understanding
it's the predator in James that's feeding off the tension stacked thick in the apartment

..... thank Gaia the moon's SlimFasting her way from Full

"Slow. DOW'N."

it's as much a barked command as confusion's plea
snapping through the molasses-thick atmosphere and shattering it to brittle amber
calloused hands shoving his brother back to arm's length and glaring into frantic eyes
it's a far more tender route than slapping some sense back into the gibbering musician

"I can' help yeh if I dunna wha's goin' on."

(tristan)
Hugged tight, pushed away, barked at (what was that weight limit?) and he just nods. closing his eyes, his jaw clenching to hold back the next torrent of words. Muscle jumps at his jaw, and he pulls away, only to pace again.

But he doesn’t' say anything. Not for a minute. Or two. Put the pieces in order, as much as he can before he even tries.

"Andrea. Momma Grace said she's missin - been gone for days. She..." (whywhywhy?) "...let her go to visit some boy Ani's been keen on or something. Out toward the 'Barrens..." hello old stomping grounds...

He moves to the table and the paper of the NY journal he'd bought at the newsstand downstairs and points to the story there, the massacre of four children. "Found her ID in there. But ain't found her yet."


(james)
a minute. two.
James gives his brother all the time he needs
allowing him to pull away and pace
allowing him to collect his thoughts though goddamn time is of the essence
allowing the Adren to flip out his pack and Zippo and light the first of what will probably be many
(..... house rules be damned, Jamey-boy? how crass of you....)
Camel dangling from his lips as his own energy spends on search of nearest ashtray
or the closest can or cup that will surely suffice

prettyboi gushes - raggedyman frowns
snapping the paper from outstretched hand to skim the headline's copy
luckily James knew the meat of an article hangs out in the first few paragraphs
so he doesn't waste time yet picking apart the latter details
another puff exhaled towards the ceiling as it's his turn to gather thoughts

"Foun'r eye-dee, but nuh body, c'rrec'?" dark eyes glance up for affirmation "Momma Gee go' th' Green on this, yeh?"

(tristan)
Fuck house rules - the only one that bitches is Moira and she's off with Kemp and Rox and he both smoke like chimneys... there's ash trays scattered around, there's all the comforts of home... his pacing stops, and he's framed in the large curved windows, Chicago nightscape behind him. A hand is up wrapped tight around the back of his neck, his gaze on his feet. "ID, no body... yeah. Well. As far as I know, anyway. Momma was on the way to see if she could ID any parts of the bodies that were found. She ain't called back yet. She would have if it'd been Ani..."

A very very small straw to hold on too - but it's all he has. "Hubcap Willie was at the house, he an' th'others takin Momma to the 'Green." A deep breath, then he's blindly looking for his own pack and lighter, finally finding them on the coffee table. lit, inhaled deeeeeeeeeep, and exhaled slow. "Momma asked if yeh'd toss it through th'chain for her from here - if Ani is on the run, she's hoping she'd come looking for me first off.."

He's hoping too, but there's precious little to base it on.


(james)
precious little to go on
Momma Grace would be pulled in by virtue of ID alone
though how she'd identify charred remains is beyond the Ahroun
way the article sounded they'll be resorting to dental records (.... if any....) to pull a positive
that isn't thrown out for consideration as to why there's been no call
Tristan is in bad enough shape as it is
such things will come when they do

"Moth'r Larissa'll know bes'..... though dunn 'memb'r if anyone 'side' Fengy'r Bareback'll be much help trackin'." names thrown out as yet another thread for his kinsman to grasp, the Adren isn't presumptuous enough to make suggestions of what the far more respected Elder could or should do in such a time, even be it one of such dire personal need, he trusts in her reputed ability to make the proper decisions yet again and pull through for them "They'll star' frum tha' side.... 'n I'l get word out ov'r th' Chai' frum this en'."

.... that's a lot of ground to cover between the Pine Barrens and Chicago

"Goh s'mthin' a hers wit'cha?"

seems an entirely random question given the current construction of gameplan
but the look in steady umber eyes is dead serious to its validity

(tristan)
more names. hubcap willy, fengy, bareback, Larissa who made him feel like he was an infant when he met her back home.... each offered dangling fragile thread grabbed and held tight. They'll know, they'll help - as will James.

He knows there's missing pieces, but this just came out, this is just the beginning (pleasegaialetherbecominghere)...

There's a blink at the question, and he tries to think and come up with an answer. Finally, a nod.. "Yeah, actually... she insisted I bring it with me last time I visited home..."

His pacing changes directions and he takes the stairs two at a time and footsteps are heard across the ceiling where James waits while Tris searches for the item. He finds it where he left it, in the nightstand drawer. Down the stairs again, two at a time, jump the last 3... and he offers the small book of poems to his brother.. "s'her favorite. Oscar Wilde. She made the bookmark there too..." and dark eyes all but plea - hoping it's good enough, and it will help...


(james)
lower lip's sucked between the Ahroun's teeth
that nibbled in thought instead of Camel's orange filter
by the time Tristan's back downstairs, however
James has returned to sucking down yet another cigarette
not like the tar will ever blacken his ever-healthy lungs
not like the stimulant nicoteine will amp him more than he already is

"Perfec'." book and mark tucked into a cargo pocket on his fatigues "It'll help wi'h th rite. Once tha's done we'll know where'a star' lookin'." for her hiding place. for her remains. "Las' bit 'fore I get start'n tha'..... wha' th' Chain need'a know a look f'r her 'specific."

past the initial spike of emotion - the guttermutt's remained dead calm
providing a rock for his brother to cling to when it seems there's near nothing left
providing a visage that would make that damned Albany Elder proud he finally granted that rank
right now, it's all down to business attire for the normally mellow Gnawer
leveling a gaze that's more than suggesting Tristan calm down and think for this one
it's his one and only chance to give some definitive information that could make or break the request

(tristan)
He's been the rock for his brother before. He's also been the one in need of holding on. Right now, it's the later, and the strength is grasped tightly and held on. IF anyone can make this right, it's James. He nods, slightly, and digs his wallet out of his pocket, thumbing through and taking out the most recent snapshot he has of Andrea - laughing in the kitchen with momma grace. He looks at it for a long moment, heart constricting with the pain of all the possible things that could be wrong.

She could be cold, hungry, scared, hurt, dead...

He hands the picture over. "S'th' most recent." Knowing James can give a clearer description with picture in hand, and then... "Momma don't know much about this guy she was visitin.. just that he was up round the barrens. She's been gone almost a week - never returned the last calls, nuthin..."

He tosses his wallet onto the table, and presses the heel of his hands against his eyes, pressing tightly as if he can hold it all back, as I he can make it all just... be ok again.

"I can't believe she didn't call me before this... fuck, James... I'm goin insane here.." If there's one thing that draws them together above all others? you don't fuck with family.

(james)
picture's taken with a nod, and tucked into the book safely weighting his pocket, already
this is probably the first time James takes a look out the enormous windows
slight frown of negation bookending that cigarette

"I dunn think I c'n put out th' call fr'm th' Ritz" the slightest impression of a grin may begin, here, a moment of levity within the storm professing that all is not yet lost for the cavalry is on the way, but all too soon he's back to work "I"ll have a do tha' fr'm sum'ere else. Gotta call'n a fav'r fr'm pack, dependin' on where they are eith'r has'm meetin' me here -" welcome matt's already extended whether or not the other residents are going to like it "- 'r I'll get'ih done while'm out."

as the Ahroun turns towards the door, cargo pocket's patted for reassurance
not only for the necessity of taking beloved token out of his brother's sight
but for the reality of doing what, well, normally James would not
at least there's the unspoken promise he'll take good care of it

"Dunn worry Tris. I'll be back soon 'nuff, 'n we'll go fine y'r sis'r."

there's a heavy pat on tense shoulders, then the door snaps shut behind lanky frame as the Tribal Elder doesn't waste further time on gratuities - there are more important things

[cont'd next entry]

Posted by james at July 24, 2005 12:00 AM