October 19, 2005
.10.19.05. - said sunday brunch not a tailgate kegger [annemarie]

[caern]

(james)
it's been at least a month

beneath the waning sphere of falling moon
the dreadlocked raggedyman enters Chicago's holy land once more
past the rusted, creaking doors of the greater warehouse
October's chilling winds drift listlessly towards some far corner
the Ahroun finds warmth by some other source of heat

whether or not it's his birthform's latent detonator or another, more mysterious, source - it doesn't matter

within minutes the lanky Gnawer's sitting crosslegged on the cleared away floor
sensing through primal telegraph the somewhat recent presence of the Sept gathered strong
sensing through a distinctly superficial touch the roiling whirlpool of their Totem beyond the barrier Realm

dark brown ropes of ever-tangled hair wreath the muscular set of square shoulders
rich earthen tones contrasting evidence of winter's approach chasing off bronze-gold tan
yet no matter the sun-struck hues casting change over flesh - the blackened scars diligently remain
bare-skinned torso flexing casual curve to the long lines of lumbar spine
haphazard ridges of gnarled flesh symbolic sacrifice to the low fire burning in nearby oildrum
flickering light coaxing random iridescent glint from inks twisting up right inner arm
steely tendon and sinew shifts with the movement of his hands
dedication's pattern dancing absently at the periphreal of umber gaze

for it is not the awesome power of his surroundings that confiscates James' attention

shadowy lashes fell closer to half-mast once drumsticks began light rhythm upon the floor
drawing the familiarity of home into his frame with each subsequent strike of wood to ground
gently playing Maelstrom's particular song in this one-man, impromptu, late-night jam session

(am)
Most Eagles are at home, in their various chosen dens, crawling into sleep next to whomever, or whatever strikes their fancy; Decker is at Imogen's, Kemp is - wherever Kemp wishes to be, Hyde is sleeping with his stuffed animal. AnneMarie, perhaps would likely be at Gisele's if not for having pulled the short straw once again, and had to do the early morning patrols. She is not exactly happy with still pulling the short end of the stick, however there is not much she can do about it. She is the omega, the one of lowest rank, and the go-to girl of the Best of the Best. That's all there really is too it.

Tonight's patrols end in the Caern, for she too feels the need to connect. Gisele will be there when she returns - and she felt a presense that she hasn't felt for a while. Thus, it is the soft muted click of heeled boots that move toward the stutter of drummed beat, coming to a halt far enough away to be respectful, yet close enough to study James as he preforms his rite. It has been a while, and perhaps she seeks to assure herself that he is alright, that the Packmate she has connected with above all others is in one piece. Of all the pack, he would not be surprised that she is/has been concerned, yet utterly respectful in the belief he needed his time away after dealing with Tristan and the young girl's recent misfortunes.

So she stands, and waits. Hands tucked into the pockets of her slacks.

(james)
Riddle me this.....

while James may be unsure of his packmate's television dreams
there's probable chance she'll have some frame of character quote reference
if not..... it's a far more interesting pick up line than "Hello."

his voice murmurs through the softer edges at the border of her mind
it is not for the sake of time's passing which causes the sluggish drawl
even removed for far more months he entertains not such tentative greetings
instead, the tones speak of a musician at peace - a trivial happiness found in drumming upon the floor
in part a rite, in part a practicing attempt, and in part simply indulging a long-lost hobby

When nobody RSVPs for the party...... only then do dark eyes lift from distant attraction, slanting over bare shoulder to where she stands so respectfully at bay, trick of the firelight emphasizing playful glitter ..... how am I supposed to know to bring the beer?

obviously, the chide is not for absent fault of hers

(am)
There's a quirk of a slim brow, perhaps at the tone, perhaps at the pick up line itself. Pale gaze catches bits of firelight, heightening the odd bluegreen gaze, burning with more then just the slow waning moon. Only when his dark umber sparks in glance over his shoulder does she flow into movement again.

Her steps are even, and light, a quiet tattoo under the beat of his drumsticks. Once by his side, she sinks in a smooth single movement, graceful, animalistic, until she kneels at his side. her hands pull from the pockets of her slacks, smoothing the material over her thighs of long habit, before ensuring the pressed crease is perfectly aligned in the material. Only then does she look at him, the corner of her lips quirking into a quick lopsided grin.

Riddle me that. Who is afraid of the big, black bat?

Apparently, Batman is something she's seen.

She lifts her chin, slightly, her gaze shifting to the moon above before settling somewhere on the distant horizon. Her eyes close then, and there is a deep inhale, a slow exhale, and finally. You have been gone so long that you've forgotten where the Fianna, Ricinus, hides her cooler? Ah - the Modi can play as well...


(james)
his packmate cannot hear the muted staccato cadence, of course
yet James continues playing, assured the floorslabs bridging them carry also the light strikes
his own lopsided grin's curved lazily over his lips for moments more
then the corners dip into the perfect portrait of a concerned frown
follow-up of furrowed brows enough to slow the complexity of his beat

Mmm. the low chuckle is silent to the Modi, but she can easily see it in the way scarred shoulders quiver beneath heavy mane of dreads at the outer limits of horizon's gaze Long enough I've forgotten both cooler's location and my next line.....

the grin's boyish, to say the least
hopefully she's looking far enough away to miss it
(Helluva welcome home, Jamey-boy, what happened to your style?)
not that he'd hide it if that were not the case

Don't suppose you've a script handy, hm?

(am)
Lips curve into something of a smile - and it even seems to linger longer then it does with most. There is something about the Adren that inspires comfort within the Modi, and it is not simply that he is the PR member for the pack, though likely leans toward the same reason he has been chosen for that job more often then not. He sees her, when others do not. He took time with her, when the others could not be bothered. He is the only one who's simple presence doesn't remind her that she is the Omega, but treats her as an equal.

So used to being the bottom of the pile, it is something rare, this acceptance that he offers as easily as breath, as easily as the beat of drumsticks, as easy as that boyish grin that she catches the edges of.

I am sorry, I seem to have forgotten mine. I suppose we could simply ad lib from here.

She pulls her gaze from afar to meet his, again and arches a brow. Welcome home.


(james)
head tilts most canidly, as if to wordlessly say "That'll have to do."
though the seriousness is broken near immediately by that reappearing grin
this time the rumbling chuckle a shade more audible on next exhale
sub-dermal structures hitching with the composition of humor's tune

Good to be home.

as drumsticks are eventually reunited as conjoined pair, it is not explanation that he offers
the both know that will only play encore to inquest
hands instead moving from where they lay tool atop thigh to the cargo pocket just beneath
ever-faithful bronze Zippo and cigarette pack filling proverbial spotlight next
box and lighter left absently somewhere on the floor between them - just cause ya never know
then weight shifts until supported by palms flattened on the floor behind him
shoulders rolling in half-stretch that works the encroaching kinks from drawing too-near his spine
firelight deepening the geographical shadows cast over Eagle's brand where it sits central to the slopes and planes sculpting his chest

(am)
He relaxes, and shifts to recline, where she remains simply kneeling, her hands resting in her lap. The thin material of her silken shirt showing shadows beneath that hint of scars across her frame, not so many as his, but some just as deep. Eagle's mark on her flesh hidden beneath soft material but always felt, always there. Even so, there is some slight difference. Under the exhaustion, under the constant attention to a work ethic that would kill mere mortals, there is a lingering calm, a contentment.

She does not take the pack nor lighter, for she does not smoke. But the offer is noticed, and appreciated none-the-less. It seems she is content to sit in silence (haHA!) and simply share the moments before the rising sun with her packmate, reestablishing the bonds close proximity, a heated band that shimmers completion across the small of her back, twisting a tickle across her shoudlerblades.

Eventually, the silence is broken, however, as it always is. Kemp is about to rank up... a small smile flits across her lips. It is not her accomplishment, but it does Eagle proud, and thus she takes pride in it as well. ...but otherwise, things are as you left them.


(james)
a brow lifts over sidelong glance

Good. skeleton hinges at his hips, shifting forward to remove the cigarette so ashes fall somewhere -other- than his abs Would hate to think I missed out on the pack's finally driving the Sept bugnuts. the Eagle's own state of mind left deliberately out of debate's focus Not after we've all worked so long at it.....

relief comes as a double-edged sword, in the Garou's world as well as the pack's own
at least they haven't killed each other just yet
expression ebbs towards the fondness merely flitting over AnneMarie's lips

Damn. He went and all grew up on me when I wasn't paying attention.

humor's a thin coating at best
accomplishment may be Kemp's alone, by right and reason
yet there's an element of joy found nonetheless by the Adren as well
the pack forever standing beside their own through both trial and victory
even if they've really done nothing more than make sure the Rotagar lived long enough to qualify

(am)
Oh no. We wouldn't allow you miss something so monumental. That would deserve the entire pack's attention and attendance. Said with such quiet seriousness, one would have to know her well to catch the amusement that warms the mental tone, the glint of something deep in the gaze.

Kemp's growing up is indeed something to be proud of, but, of course, she cannot leave it at that. He will do well, I think, as long as it does not involve his biggest fear, you know...

A pause, as she glances back at James before finally shifting slightly so as to face him more then the horizon. And she finishes the thought then with amusement. She's never had problems in this department, or anything. None of them have. Right? Girls.


(james)
the Modi leans in confidentially, mental voice hushed in clandestine admission
making it all the more ridiculous as she could be halfway across town and he'd still hear it
which is probably why James prepares and aptly wears the expressive mask of utter surprise
the showman taking cue as body curls to close what's left of the gap between them
elbows resting on bent knees as fingers scissor around his smoke
using it to punctuate the turning phrase in their silent conversation

You know...... oh how ominously he allows the last to trail off, dark eyes flitting first left, then right, as if to assure none would spy upon such devious plans that could come from the collaboration of two Full Moons .... I've heard rumors about the very same creatures. Nothing more than whispers passed around campfires late at night. Scary stories to tell in the dark, and all that. I'd shrug'm off as fiction 'cept I've yet to meet the brave Warrior who's survived a real, live encounter unscathed.

and the emphatic nod is so earnest
he'd go so far as to cross himself if creeping grin hadn't already ruined the moment

How's Giselle?

(am)
He falls instantly into his performer roll, his showmanship falling effortlessly into the silent conversation of the Ahrouns and she, while not so comfortable in such ways as he is, does her part. She nods, ever so seriously, at his admittance of being frightened by such stories, himself.

And then he gets to the last, and the glancing lopsided almost grins that never quite appear, disappear completely in favor for the softened smile that creeps across her lips. There's a blush, a heat that heightens color along strong cheekbones, that she does nothing to try and hide, as he would see it anyway. The moment not ruined, so much as enhanced by the mention of her companion, her mate.

She is.... beautiful. So strong, so fierce. She is nearly as good with her staff as I am, now. Ah, true Modi love. There is more beneathe that, though, of course. Even the mental tones are warmer, softer. She is often on patrol with me. Tonight I insisted she sleep.

(james)
there's that soft rumbling chuckle again
rolling like thunder's echo from the cavern of his chest
Camel's ember reflects in the dark pools that color his eyes
filtered smoke crushed out against the bottom of dully-shined boot
paper-wrapped cotton crumpled and tucked into a pocket for disposal elsewhere

You that easy on her? grin's crooked as it'll ever be, but the wry jest shows amply through I'll bet'cha still feed her, too.

he deserves the jab he'll get for that one
resolutely sucking it up - as the Gnawer ain't about to move
palms flattening behind him once more as he might as well be comfortable for the ride
gaze settling back upon his packmate with a little more expectation than playful attention

So am I to expect her for Sunday brunch.... or still too shy to bring her home to meet the raggedy fam'.

challenging a Modi not even a tenth past the full?
salting the wound by obviously enjoying what flush rises on Fenrir cheeks?
with little more than a pair of toothpicks to aid his self-defense?!
the Adren should pick up his tail and make a run out of harm's way
seriously

(am)
Brows lift, slightly. Easy? Feed her? He is not disappointed, and it is likely a good thing he's braced himself, for well placed heel of her hand strikes at his shoulder hard enough to knock normal men back a foot or two. But he sucks it up... and then pushes it even further.

She blinks, slightly. ....Shy?!? she is not.. well.. she... he is not allowed to knock her off kilter, but he does so with ease, and a lopsided grin that enjoys it far too much. Brows furrow, and the glare that follows would melt a mere man. Good thing he is no mere man! This shove is more of a swipe, and harder, and lips even curl into a snarling silent growl.

...that slips instead into a shrug, and grin. You and Hyde, perhaps. Kemp maybe. I fear Decker would not see my choice of mate in the same accepting light, however. It is not shyness. Nor a fear of having my ass beat. But perhaps a respect so that I do not pick the fight with him.

A pause, slight, before. You, however, may come to dinner. Do not expect home cooked food, however, we are both hopeless. Any cracks about the lack of cooking skills? And he'd best give in to that urge to run....

(james)
if the Adren weren't keeping himself from being floored by the strike then shove
he'd probably push his luck far enough to not only laugh, but point, too
knowing all too well how easily he threw her off balance to begin with
but such is the bantering trust the two Full Moons fortunately share
he saves face by substituting a scoffing snort for the potentially disastrous laugh

Said Sunday Brunch..... not a tailgate kegger in the park. Successful as I may have been after spending the past three years bringing some semblance of decency into this pack by playing the ever-faithful public relations liason or steadfast educator..... there are some things even beyond the greatest Frankenweiler's ability or patience to teach. Acceptable behavior, much less table manners, and our Fair Leader in the same sentence is one of them.

ah yes, an example of ancient Bone Gnawer skill - pass the fuckin' buck
whatever offense he may have mocked is partialed by the friendly wink
James needs little poetic waxing to understand or sympathise with her reservations
he's a couple reasons of his own for avoiding similar fights in the past

..... however badly such efforts have, at times, failed

"'sides..... think there'd be much food leftover with a hungry Gnawer at the table? Faced with not one, but TWO of these so-called women creatures with nothing better to do than fill his lack of meaningful coversation or a notable escape route with dazzling gut-stuffing abilities to distract them? his formost intention was, actually, to be the third and only wheel - the Jackal Tribe's permissions rarely translate to other blood, no matter how much they may share in totem's mighty bond 'specially if it's professionally prepared digs. I mean, have you ever seen me in the kitchen? Actually cooking?

if it weren't for his brother, the raggedyman would be at some point less desirable than "hopeless"

(am)
There's a bit of a grin, and this time the shove is lighter, more of a love tap, really, though she'd be the last to call it such and Modi love tap is nothing to be sneezed at. [Neither are modi sneezes, but that, of course, is a different story.] Pass the buck. Yes. You would think the Doctor's impeccable manners would rub off, in past years. Added into the fray.

She stands, a fluid movement of muscle and bone that speak of the animal beneath her skin, almost enabling a visual of the fur and fangs she was born with, and is certainly comfortable in. She brushes off her slacks, and then studies him a moment, before holding out her hand to offer aid up, which she knows he does not need. Point taken. Grandmother always said there was no time like the present.

She tips her head, slightly, in invitation, before admitting. I promised her breakfast if she would get some rest. You may help me pick out the proper items for a hungry Gnawer to feast upon. It is not Sunday, true, but I would not wish to explain to your brother why I allowed you to waste away between now and then.

(james)
not needed, but not forsaken, either
rough skin of his calloused palm smacking solidly against hers
bicep flexing though he knows lifting his bodyweight is likely needful of second thought
effort on the Modi far less than even a love tap, though probably not quite the required for a sneeze
[heh. heh. heh.]

How 'bout this.

all that upward progress reversed as he bends to gather his belongings
cardboard pack and lighter tucked safely away before drumsticks return to his pack
longsleeved t-shirt and trenchcoat unfolded from within as it's not so temperate outside the Caern's protective walls

I'll take the last leg of your morning patrol, hit the Farmer's Market on my way back. the packmates probably don't realize how grateful they should be for the convenience of Totem Phone, especially when considering how incomprehensible that would have been spoken through the process of getting aaaaalllllll those fluffy and rather disobediant dreads through the shirt's single neckly opening in one smooth move - he does it with a practiced grace polished by feral precision, but the fact of the matter is verbal skills rank not quite on par with physical You head on back and give her enough time to wake up and escape and all that.

brows hitch upwards with the flash of unrepetant grin
Alice pack buckled closed and held out to Ruhiger in trade
(Wonder if she realizes just how deep your trust goes, Jamey-boy, your life is in that pack)
patchwork coat shrugged on then dusted off for good measure

Pick that up in two hours.


(am)
Totemphone is something appreciated for many things, by many people, whether it be for the ease of deciphering the Gnawer Elderman's speech patterns, or simply an effective method of communication. For the Modi it is one step deeper - the ability to actually communicate without risking writer's cramp -e ven with the ability of the entire pack to listen in when they wish to.

He strikes a deal, and offers her the pack, and it's not without a bit of surprise that slender fingers wrap around the straps of Alice pack. She takes it easily enough, though for those that notice such details, it's with great care that she does so.

She knows.

A nod, then, up of course, and that little barely there lopsided grin. She will not wish to escape. She has wondered when I would subject her to the other members of the pack for more then passing introductions. Fortunately, it is you first.

She turns then, and falls into step with him as they leave the Caern proper, before splitting ways, and going to warn her Mate of their breakfast company.


Posted by james at October 19, 2005 12:00 AM