October 31, 2002.10.31.02. - cleansing [gaby jones][north jersey, stix pool hall]
(missy)
It was getting dark, she had left the lab...the empty quiet music~less~ lab She knew they werent coming back, it was painfully obvious. Definately not coming back...
Baseball cap turned backwards and baggy jeans and a white t-shirt was the outfit for tonight, her dark wavy hair peeking out from beneath the cap, she was heading to her ol watering hole She knew it well, needed some cash, and a drink wouldnt hurt either.Time to figure out the next step..
what was the next step? She certainly didnt have a clue, she wasnt taught what to do if the pack was goneQuestions she never asked, maybe she should have...
[someone help me?](james)
the sun had long since set over the city
it was about that time he had found a phone book, an address, summed up to a direction
but he wasn't in a hurry
not this time
he isn't most of the time
but this time it really counted
sucking on a lower lip in thoughtcould he do this again?
probably better to be safe than sorry
check the place out, first
see what's up
get the lay of the land
second hand Cochran's beating a steady cadence against the sidewalk, each long stride devouring the ground in the most mellow way you've ever seen - easy, sedate, almost hypnotizing the way tattered tails snap around his ankles, the rippling sway of the trench in each lopey step, rebar drumsticks clinking quietlyit's amazing, how comfortable he is in the city
(gaby)
She swings the door open and nods to Steve...ahh a place she is safe A place she knows, the smell of the musky pool hall makes her smile..
and she could earn some cash
Eyes moving to the bare tables...it was quiet, almost ghostown like. No one there yet to hustle...
nothing like a 19 year old hustling for some cash
But she was godlen here, she could drink, hustle, whatever...
She glances to steve again and heads to the bar....hopping up on the stool and taking off her cap, running her fingers through the waves..
"What gives--you scare everyone away?"(steve)
He smirks at her..."Naw just been slow, think its the weather..here"
he hands her a cold beer in a bottle
(james)
eventually, the movement stops
and he..... lingers
across the street from the Hall
not even the most common patron at places as this - even he knows it's quietnot sure if that's a good or bad thing
but eventually, the tall Gnawer moves across the street
dreadlocks shaken into some semblance of arrangement
feeling for that wad of cash stuffed into coat pocket
should at least appear as he's meaning to be there for, well, why he's theremaking his way over to the bar
(gaby)
She recognizes him as he enters..hard to forget the dreads
hes family ..or yours anyways
She heard Laz's words from the other night..
Hand on the bottle she takes a drink from it and watches as he enters..
he knows Decker, i could smell it last timeAs he approaches she scratches her head and absently looks around the room...
"you dont look like a pool hall guy"
simply put(james)
hard to forget her, too
easy grin spreading warm to slide onto a barstool
dark eyes peering out from the city jungle vine 'do"I'm not, actually....."
voice softens
almost shy
incidentally"I remembered what Laz said the other night, before you headed this way..... I sorta needed some Family opinion on stuff and was hoping to find you before I had the gratuitous beer at every joint I passed and passed out before I got anywhere."
(gaby)
I cannot take this anymore
I'm saying everything I've said before
All these words they make no sense
I find bliss in ignorance
Less I hear the less you'll say
But you'll find that out anyway
Just like before...That causes her to smirk slightly as she sips fromt he cold bottle...now beginning to be more room temperature then cold.
"Family opinion eh?" she shakes her head.."I'm not too good with those" she watches him...
what exactly do you want from meShe had never been good at family opinions, shit she had never been one of the family..she hated them always did...
She watches him...ok what gives"you want a beer?"
Everything you say to me
Takes me one step closer to the edge
And I'm about to break
I need a little room to breathe
Cause I'm one step closer to the edge
And I'm about to break(james)
the look on his face says, well, he doesn't know that
the look on his face speaks of some sort of desperation
all he knows is she's family, so he needs her(he also needs to get this damned pine-sol scent out of his sinuses, come to think of it, still not used to that)
"Would love one.... I'll grab next round, if you want."
never say he doesn't come prepared
(missy)
She chuckles.."eh, dont worry bout it i get them for free" Not completely the truth
but what was anymore.."Steve 2 more" she calls to the redhead behind the bar...as she adjusts her ass on the stool"never liked bar stools...they suck for your ass"
she swivels a bit and finishes the first beer..."Why you comin out here askin for my advice...i dont hang with the others much" she watches him carefully...
(steve)
The redhead grabs 2 more drinks..
free my ass he thinks to himself, but doesnt say it outloud..Setting them on the counter he nods and smiles before heading back to the cooler
(james)
the smile widens
a Gnawer, and a Hood, he won't turn down the (seemingly) free wealth
nodding thanks for the beer and a swallow finds its way down his throat before the conversation even begins to continue
just to give Steve time to walk away
right.gesturing a little towards the door with the bottle
"Some seriously wicked mojo going on out there..... I need an unbiased opinion from someone that sort've looks at things in a similar way. Figured since you were Family but a stranger, you'd fit thebill if you gave me a little time."
(gaby)
Her eyes move to the door as well.
right like im stupid"Wicked mojo eh?" she shakes her head.."What does Decker have to say bout it"
Simple question...
She turns her head back to look at him and smiles..
(james)
there's a bit of a laugh at that one
amused"About as much as he has to say about everything else. A grunt. A growl. A seething comment or four from his stunning repetoire of witty comebacks. He just doesn't understand things the way we do."
think you're stupid? no
note I wasn't surprised when you brought up the Get
I'm giving you more credit than you think
several chugs draining further the beer"Will you help me?"
(gaby)
She shrugs.."dont know"
Fair enough answer...for a fair enough question..."Dont know what you want from me yet" she shrugs...eyeing the door...
"Decker obviously told you of our last meeting, im hardly gonna beleive he aint talkin shit bout me, and that Modi's got quite an imagination"
she sighs and pushes the bottle though the condensation on the bar..."Plus i dont fall into anyones lil world...do things my way..which was how Lax and Decker were when i first hung with them"
Ronin, we were all ronin"Now I just dont know who to trust...aint gonna believe you arent here to fuck my world up till i get a good reason to believe it"
Eyes move to his..
maybe she hadnt danced yet...
Those eyes truly showed honesty, truthfulness, honor
[urge of lies] She wasnt some pathetic piece of meat showing off all her flaws...or merits
She wasnt giving in that easilly nor was she that easilly seen through...
far from it"Decker needs to hear witty comebacks, just remember you have to explin them to him sometimes" another smirk..."he aint been round to cop any shit..figured he must have met himself a girl" she rolls her eyes..."or a nice boy" she chuckles
(faye)
a chill wind slithers (sounds like bone wind chimes and dry, dry death) down the street of North Jersey, flirts dangerously with the (dark) hem of highwayman robber coat. Travel the line of the coat which hints at curved feminine hip upwards: briefly detour to follow the dangerous pinwheel suicide of a cigarette sent spinning towards the gutter. Ember flares once, then hisses as it kneels into death.Continue upward. Past ratty jeans, tucked into combat boots. The coat is cavalierly left unbuttoned, a shirt for her mostly-defunct band The Enochians visible in white and black. Around her throat is a hanging stone, shaped lovingly by the strong imaginiation into key-shape. At her waist is a sword borrowed from some stage company. It garners a couple of glances, but this is halloween.
Buildings hide the sun--but its rays are already bloody (and she can feel a tugging, her dark side rising strong.) As night falls the shadow(court) ascends to power and she can already feel the terror mists risen bring stealing her breath in a number of half seen half imagined half only remembered visions. [Not. This. Time.] But even that is a welcome delusion - something to pull her out of her thoughts.
Faye has a pair of carved musical bones between her fingers and taps out a rhythm a music a beat with the same idle sparsity of thought most people give to breathing or dreaming or hearts beating when you are alive.
"A fuckin' year," mutters she, turning to glance at the shadows gathering in an alley way. As the sun dies drowns chokes in its own life something sweet and mad begins to play in her blood, not music, but echoed as music by those animal bones. Mad and sweet and wild and dark and alien but as home in her body as a pair of favorite shoes, the ones you try to seperate yourself from.
The sudden flickering start of a street lamp near by plucks out molten silver strands like pieces of a melody woven into her hair, as binding to the eyes as chains of fish-scales and cat's breath and moonlight to unicorns. They glitter. (Must be dyed. On Halloween no one even comments.)
"Bitch," she murmurs, briefly, as a sorrow rises and falls like the tide, thoughts pausing to stably cling to a hospital bed.
And then the sun sets.Hello Darkness,
my old friend.(james)
again, there's that soft, soft laughter
quite amused
a brow lifting beneath the dreads"Decker hasn't told me anything about you. Why would I believe a Modi's opinion of one of ours, anyway?"
he's been in the gutter for a long time, allright
there's one thing he knows"You gotta trust Family."
seems he still thinks she's on their side......
.... or..... more on their side than the other
he doesn't shy from that look
just as honest as she (seemingly) is"Just like I'd be trusting you to show you this. All I want is an opinion. Ten minutes of your time. No strings attached."
grinned
beer tilted to finish
easy, clean, no strings
isn't that how they all wanted it?"And I don't know what.... or who... he's been up to, lately. I've been wrapped up in this weird mojo crap. Your guess is as good as mine."
(gaby)
"Naw actually my guess isnt as good as yours...and ya know that whole trustin family aint what its cracked up to be"
she hops from the stool and grabs her pool cue...
following me? She glances to him over her shoulder
as she approaches the empty table... her little release
She picks up the black triangle and places the balls in the rack...stripe solid, stripe, solid"Family I came from fucked me over and tried to off me" she pulls the triangle off and hangs it on the rusty hook..
Eyeing the shot..."Seems everyone in my life isnt worthy of trust"
she smacks the cue ball sending it into the mess of balls, 2 solids fall into adjacent pockets...
She looks up...
"I can only trust myself"
not far from the truth, she hadnt ever found someone who wasnt bullshitting her, from Laz to Decker to Malcolm...they all made their worlds sound so good..."Hard nuff to trust myself sometimes i think" she chooses her shot...and hits again..
another solid sunk.."Why dont you tell me a little bout this mojo..then ill decide if i should go...and whats 10 minutes gonna do anyways?"
(james)
the tall raggedyman slides off the stool
easily following, easily lead
grabbing a stick to chalk up and wait his turn
if he gets a turnhip leaning against the empty table to the side
"Ten minutes should give us time to walk, look, and you give me an opinion.... unless we dawdle. I wouldn't spring this out of the blue if I wasn't desperate and without another option. But something's killing off the little ones....."
if she was ever a Gnawer
she'd know what that meant
she'd know how desperate he really was(gaby)
She sighs and sets the pool cue down resting it on the table for the moment
she understood...just didnt want to
pausing she looks over at himIm one step closer to the edge and im about to break
[Never.show.weakness]
She hears so many words of advice whishing through her head like tornados on the plains of kansas in august.
show no weakness...keep your head
Dammit Asher, Kaj,Malcolm...fuck fuck...
Maybe she could keep the facade for a while, but sooner or later he was gonna see through it..
or would he...actually perhaps he wouldnt..unless he had the gift..what chance was there he did
She picks up the cue and knocks the rest of the solids in..one by one..
crack...crack..crack
and looks at the 8-ball..tongue moving out of her mouth as she focuses on it and plans carefully.."8-ball corner pocket" crack it sinks..
she lays the cue down on the table and shoves her hands in her pocket.."fuck it" she shrugs.."lessgo"
against her better judgement?But she wanted to find Decker anyways...she had a bone to pick with him...
She finishes her beer...and looks over at him...
"Still dont know why ya want my opinion, it isnt much"(james)
didn't think so.
when the black ball sinks he moves back around the table to set the stick back in place
but that same chuckling grin is still there"You've been hanging around Strangers too much. All the Family's opinion counts."
something seems to stop him
dark eyes looking over to her
there's a..... sadness.... in them"Of course you matter. Your opinion, too."
as if he aches for whatever the reason was that bullied her so far down
that made her fall
that makes him do what he's going to
but nevermind that for now
he's already moving towards the doors"It's not that far from here...."
(gaby)
She stops at the door before exiting..."dont know where you grew up..but that was bullshit...maybe one day ill let you in on my little world"
if i have time
She shakes her head..."almost got killed for my opinions" she sighs...and stands there..as if she knew
Looking at him with those eyes, she wasnt this dumb...not by far...
maybe it wasnt worth fighting now..they were gone...she was in it alone...
so fucking what...she was strong, could hold her own, what the fuck did she need them for anyways...always done it on her own before
Plus she wanted to see where he took her...maybe Decker sent him to fetch her...
Shit..she had a bad feeling...
Oh well...
"yeah..sure..lessgo"(james)
chin draws towards his shoulder to look back at her"I grew up in New York. Guess maybe it's not the state of mind of the rest of the world.... but it's what I believe."
that is the truth
and that's all that counted, didn't it
the stop turns into stroll
the minute into five
the steps into blocks
the streets into an alley"It's down here..... but on the other side. Easier to slip in there before going through."
nodding a bit towards the street
it's late
but not utterly deserted
no matter which side they were on, they had to think about the Veil(gaby)
She looks at him...as he starts up into an alley..
you gotta be kidding me
She stops...she isnt that stupid...
"what exactly is it we are looking for again?"
She should know better...she was taught by the best
although where were they now?She stands there watching him...
Her hands move into her pockets again...i dont go down easy
She used to be so paranoid...
Now it all didnt matter..
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie
(Everything has to end, you'll soon find we're out of time left to watch it all
unwind)...The sacrifice is never knowing
Why I never walked away
Why I played myself this way
Now I see your testing me pushes me away..."I mean cmon now..i dont trust people THAT easy...not even family"
(james)
there's a pause
head shaking in a soft laugh"Cliche, isn't it? Halloween, dashing stranger, dark alleyway, mysterious intentions...... right out of a horror movie. Oh that was terrible..."
he's stopped, step or three taken back
one hand reaching to scratch through dreads
boy doesn't he look sheepish
(can.... wolves.... look sheepish?)"I apologize. I didn't even think of how that looked. Okay. There's something feeding off the rats in the area, that's based fairly close to right here.... I don't know what to make of it. I figured as another Gnawer you might. That's all."
he's being damn persuasive
no matter how much she may not trust him
even family
there's credibility in that story
it is the truth(gaby)
She nods...she believes him but still why should she CARE
She looks down the alley..."I'll go with ya...sure...but i wont know nothing bout it" she chuckles.."im not your average gnawer"
never had been...
She knew what was up...she wasnt fucking stupid, question was
could she win
She had her own tricks up her sleeve
wins by tricks
That was her name...and she could do just that...
usually"Right...feeding off the rats..sure" she rolls her eyes..
"Why dont you just say what is on yer mind...then ask me to join ya in the alley" she smirks
"or is it gnawer trait to try to ~be witty~" she shakes her head
"if we're gonna go at it...cant we at least be honest bout it?"
(james)
he just....
just....
okay that has him bursting out into sheer mirthful laughter"Go at it?"
his look says what hers has for a little while now
you've got to be kidding me
but he matches her pace into the alley"Actually..... I'm serious about something killing off the rats...."
(gaby)
She nods..."damn i always liked rats, used to want a pet rat" she smirks...
something killing off the rats...She walks with him...
still ready for whatever"what you just come across a slew of rats who had been killed off in some spot...and you are under the assumption that i could know why?"
she looks over at him...
"i do know...ya know" she smirks.."at least i think i know"(james)
there's a part of him that wants to know what she thinks she knows
there's the rest of him that keeps calling on Eagle's might
the rebar sling comes off his shoulder
shoulders drop and twist
three feet of unforgiving steel aimed right at her templehe's faster than she thought
two strikes in the time for one
he's far stronger than she thought
the Ahroun backed with totem's strength
he's far..... far.... angrier than she could ever believe
how. dare. you. fall.
(gaby)
he was fast and strong...but she wasnt slow and weak
The first blow was a surprise. slam
A flash of light in her eyes...Pain Blood red
The second gets dodged as she lunges down towards his waist football style a loud growl cry coming from her..[i knew it]
pulling something shiny from her boot she lunges into his leg...making usre to at least slow him so she can re-gain her focus..
sonnofabitch
Never trust them...never She knew that from day one...it was what made her fall..
Never could she trust them..
And here she was learning the same lesson againShe had chosen the right path...
without question
show no weakness
And she wouldnt...not now(james)
the normally so mellow Ahroun snarls when the knife bites into his leg, when his balance is thrown, when the asphalt grates against his back
rebar clangs against the ground
palms smack togetherclap of thunder
hate burns in his eyes
(there's an irony, in the power he weilds)
rage sneers in his smile
I killed my pack for this
already, he's up and lunging for her
I killed my mate for this
slowed by severed muscle
but not slow enough for her
I will kill you for this
glabro swelling his form(gaby)
Eyes locked on his as he comes at her..
everything makes sense it just does...She was right all along, and he still doesnt get it.
Why was it so clear to her, and he didnt get it... She shifts to her glabro form and gets out of his way...lunging with the knife steel aimed for his chest...Her other hand moving to rip at his face coming across hard and fast (sounds kinky) Her rage fueling her
she had chosen right All along..
im one step closer to the edge and im about to breakShe wouldnt show weakness...
(james)
she wouldn't show weakness
he wouldn't back down
not. from. you.it's strange the paths they took
how easily he could be standing beside her, rather than charging with the full force of his rage
neither understanding why the other chose the way they did
both hating just as equally for itin a battle of wills
neither Gnawer would be the victor - nor would either fail
in this.... they were equals in the gutter, they were equals on the street, they were equals in this darkened alley that meant nothing to anyone but them, they were equal sides of the same faded coin, tossed away and forgotten, copper pennies in the moonlight, and it makes you wonder....... sometimes..... was there ever really a difference?betrayed
abused
discarded
nothing better than filthy mutts scrapping in the street over the last morsel
urban warriors lost in the shadow of skyscraper trees
desperate and defiant beneath crackling electric canopy
deep down..... he respects her for that
he respects the blood still somewhere in her veinsone bit with steel
the other bit with furyit is the battle of strength that makes the difference
leverage of weight and momentum
deep red flaring across his shirt
her arm grabbed as it slashes for his face
pivoting her balancethe world spins when the tall Gnawer wraps around her, behind her
drawn up tight against slickening chest
it only takes a few pounds of pressure to rip out someone's throat(gaby)
It only take a second...
in a second a lot can go through ones mindShe didnt regret anything..how many could say that...
]show no weakness]
She wouldnt..He wouldnt back down. Both fighting for everything they believed in...
She feels the world caving in...as she catches his eyes..
show no weakness She actually manages a slight smirk as she watches the world go black.in a second a lot can go through ones mind...her whole life, nothing ever made sense until now..and she wasnt dying for Gaia...she wasnt dying for them or their stupid rules and ways...that was the part that made it ok...she might be dying by them..but they had been trying to kill her her whole life...she was destined for this dark fate and it just confirmed everything she ever thought.
im one step closer to the edge and im about to break.......black
Posted by james at 12:00 AMOctober 30, 2002.10.30.02. - stargazing [decker][pine barrens]
(insert some stuff here)
(decker)
Decker watches Dire, somewhere between incredulous and bored. Mild curiosity might have a foot in the door, too. Sitting forward, elbows on knees, feet planted wide, he's quiet like he usually is. His whole damn pack was pretty quiet.(Wonder what Livingston was up to in that truck...)
At length, he lowers his head, paws a hand over the short-buzzed hair, and shakes his head once like a prizefighter before a fight. Getting to his feet, he nods up at James. "Go fer a walk." An invitation or a request or a command...pick one.
A pause, turning back to Siobhan. A grimace. "Yeah, they do. One of 'em, at least."
(james)
he figured they'd understand
some things do cross tribal boundaries
but the Gnawer stretches to stand
somewhat skirting the circle
moving into the smoke for a few
damn pine-sol
making his sinuses burna glance to Decker
and he moves off as well
wouldn't matter which one it was
(decker)
A lifted brow at Dire. "Why not?" - with that, turning, moving off. He had issues to discuss with his packmate, and they'd been brooding too long already.As the voices in Gabriel's clearing (which is apparently where they are) fade into the distance, Decker's muddy shoes track over pine needles, dead leaves - and, beneath that, the spongy, soft earth.
He wasn't really Urrah...not at heart. He couldn't tap into the flow of the city. Couldn't strengthen his soul in the heart of the iron towers. Then again, he couldn't stand to be cooped up out here for long, either, but sometimes it was almost good to be back. Almost.
Another quarter-mile or so. "Shit I said 'bout Gaby really had you worked up the other day, huh."
(james)
sometimes, you take a walk in the woods, in total silence, and you feel like you're on a death march, there's things you don't want to talk about, where you've been, where you're going, and why you're heading there..... and other times..... you can walk between cities and not say a word and still be comfortable
at ease
at homewell, almost
he's certainly not at home way out here in the woods
getting used to it, slowly and surely
he learned a lot on the drift south from NYC
but the scents are so severe and pure it gives him a headache
he's Urrah through and throughand if it weren't for his packmate, probably two days from finding his way back from whence they came
but he is comfortable in the silence
he's just as comfortable breaking it, softly"For a lot of reasons."
(decker)
Decker, moving low to the ground, simply spreads his open hands: a shrug, an invitation to elaborate.This far from the city, the stars are pinpricks of blazing light overhead. The Milky Way is visible, a diffuse scattering of distant stars spilled like quicksilver. The tips of the trees trace black against the blue-black sky. One of the few pure places left on earth, this, and while the Urrah can't appreciate it, even he would know this is what they fight for. And Decker knows, too - deep inside, under the apathy, under the fury, under the ugly side of him that wants nothing more than to kill and kill and kill.
A Fenrir does not fear death, but nor does a Fenrir love it. A Fenrir does not fear death because he fights out of love of life. And what he fights for, in the end - is not the glory. Not the honor. Not the wisdom and not the rank. Not the blood, not the violence, not the thrills and not the kills.
He fights for this. A peaceful night when rage was spent and the beast was slumbering (if only for a while). A silent night with your pack, when you don't have to think about Dancers, corrupters, lovers, traitors. If only for a moment. If only for an instant.
Born to fight.
Born to die.
Someday, Decker will understand.Talk to me, Jamey-boy.
(james)
part of the walk he spends looking where he's going
but soon as he learns the triggers in Decker's footsteps to what's ahead, the lay of the hidden path, he lets his eyes drift up
falling into that easy, ground covering stroll
one nice thing about being so far out
you can see the starsnot just what works down through the city's jungle canopy haze of electric confusion
but everything
Pegasus..... parts of Sagittarius...... Draco..... Scorpius......
all drifting down through the trees
enjoying it for a dozen or so yards, soaking it up, getting used to it
he's known it all along
he's just never known how to appreciate itsome things take time to wrap your mind around
"Ever say a Gnawer, for any reason, doesn't matter again, Decker..... I won't hold back. I don't know your history with her. I don't particularly care. I met her, and there's something tragically wrong.... but that doesn't mean she doesn't matter. We hear that all the time. From Lords..... Walkers..... Fangs.... Wendigo..... Fenrir.... everybody. But to hear it out of the mouth of your own packmate?"
dark eyes glance over, watching the Modi's profile in the starlight
"That hurt."
he's quiet for a few more steps
this is the hard part"Tainted Gnawers are something of tender spot."
(decker)
Dark eyes on his profile: he feels it, and turns to meet the gaze, slowing, stopping. Hands in his pockets, he looks at his packmate by the light of the distant stars for a long, long moment, and he's the first to look away.An exhale. That ain't how I meant it. But that wasn't something he could say. A frown stirs his brow, which could be kingly in ten, twenty years, in another life.
"Got it," he says at last; unvoiced apology. Then - a sharp glance back; a sharp frown. "She ain't--"
Pause. Stop. Decker didn't lie often, didn't lie well, and couldn't really lie to a packmate. A shake of his head, once or twice.
"Don't know that she's tainted. Was - hoverin', the last I saw o' her. But I ain't sure o' that."
There's too much taint around him. Sickboy, Salome, and now Gaby as well...? And if one knew about Imogen, they all knew. He didn't want to accept it. It wasn't something he wanted to face. For the first time, Decker felt himself trying, trying hard, to willingly block the truth.
(james)
he knows that's more of an apology than most gethalf of him didn't even expect it
not from a Fenrir to a Gnawer
not from a Foster to a Cliath
but he doesn't make anything more of it
just a little bit of a smile - accepted
it's the past nowbut in a breath it changes
tattered tails swirl around second hand Cochrans as he steps up to the Modi
right up
so this time storm gray can't look away"You don't know. You're not sure."
something burns deep inside the rich brown
even out here in the darkness beneath the trees
it's visable"Or do you just not want to accept it."
he didn't either
he hated accepting it
..... and who's he talking about, anyway?(decker)
"Back off," snaps Decker immediately. Seems like the Modi still had some fire left in him. A step back, a frustrated turn. Two steps away, two steps back. Pacing."I don't care. I don't fuckin' wanna know. I don't - know."
Silence. Turning, moving, head down, one restless hand running over skull so recently cracked, already healed. It's not the physical cuts that stay with a Garou, most times. It's the other ones that you can't see, that cut the deepest.
"I ain't no Theurge," muttered. "I can't figger it out none, either."
(james)
this time
he doesn't back off
he doesn't back downnot. from. you. not. this. time.
while the Fenrir paces, the Gnawer stands still
such a contrast they've always been
one sleek, seething, stalking between the trees the frustrated, explosive predator
one shaggy, tattered, the calm statue of a strange school of reason"Let me tell you something, Decker. Ahrouns can figure it out. It's just a matter if they do it too late. You don't want to let it become too late like I did."
(decker)
His back to the Bone Gnawer, the Modi turns his face to the stars. Inhales. Fills his lungs with pinescent and starlight.Exhales. Barely audible,
"Like you did?"He doesn't turn; he just listens. Sometimes, eye contact made it that much harder to speak. To listen. To hear.
(james)
"Yeh.... like I did."again, that silence between them
when the Modi looks up to find his answers in the stars
he looks down, already knowing what's laying beneath the earth"Because when you've denied it until you're the only one left, you're the one that has to kill them."
(decker)
And...
...silence.Crickets somewhere, the last of the season. The next cold front will kill them all, and the land will know winter.
Crickets, a babbling brook, the wind in the trees.
Decker lowers his head, inch by inch, and finally runs both hand over his face, over his head, scrubbing hard as though to scrub the last few months away. If he'd known the complications he'd face here, if he'd known the responsibilities he'd bear as a Fostern...
No use regretting the past. That was the path of the weak, the cowardly. Dropping his hands, Decker lets a breath out.
"Me 'n Gaby, we was tight. We had an agreement," he says. A year of silence passes before he speaks again. "Unspoken truce. I ain't gonna break it. Not before she does."
And another.
"But she hustles at the Stix Billiards Hall."She was James' tribesmate. Was. She was Decker's...friend? Either way, Decker didn't want this kill.
(james)
unseen
dreadlocks shift across fabric in his nod
he can understand that
filing the information awayit didn't need to be said
it was obvious he was going to do it anyway
(it was obvious he was told to)
and the Gnawer steps up
just beside his packmate, shoulder to shoulder
his eyes lift, too
but maybe what he searches for is entirely different"I lost my pack.... and my mate.... because I let it be too late. I won't let it happen again."
it may mean nothing to Decker
but it means everything to him(decker)
A dichotomy.
A juxtaposition.The raggedy Gnawer looks to the stars. The purebred Fenrir, an echo of the great heroes of the past, looks to the earth. The one so young by human terms, already a Fostern by the Garou. The other older, wiser, still a Cliath - perhaps only because of the weight of his past, which he could not set down. Side by side: packmates, auspicemates. Matched in height and strength and little else; connected in ways humans could never dream of.
He doesn't have to say anything. In the end, Decker just sets a hand on James' solid shoulder, squeezes once.
James will track her down and do what's needed, but he'll be there to back his packmate up. And to close the book that he opened.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMOctober 29, 2002.10.29.02. - purple haze [imogen-decker-rune-terrapin][after the hunt for asher and kaj'sha]
(imogen)
She's been watching James pace a trench into the motel floor for hours. Silence is common with her, as uncomfortable as it can be, and it's hardly been broken by less than four words.He's not supposed to tell her.
She's not supposed to know.And his silence speaks louder than words, and she answers it with her own. So, at first, she'd attempted to do some work. Case folders with gruesome pictures, scrawling hand written notes. That lasted for forty minutes, before his pacing had intruded once more onto her attention. Abandoning the work, she'd simply moved to sit on the bed, cross legged and smoking, dark eyes following him as he walks from one end of the room to the other. And back again.
And the tension grew thicker and thicker as the silence grew longer and longer.
(dcker)
There hadn't been a pack pow-wow before they'd all left. They met up somewhere en route, and so she couldn't have known what they were up to. Or so went the idea.The reality is different. When Decker asked for the silver knives - both of them; when she saw the two Ahroun say their silent farewells at the door, one grim-eyed, one so worried; when she watched James pacing enough to smoke the floor - she had to know something was up.
An hour, maybe two, maybe three, pass in that tense sort of silence. Then, down the hall, an elevator reaches the sixth floor. The other two Full-Moons of the pack, the Fenrir and the Glass Walker, come down the hall side by side. The former had pulled a sweatshirt on over the mess he'd made of his dedicated clothes, but smudges of red show here and there. From the fingers of one hand dangle one of the knives - immaculately cleaned, polished, shining.
A knock on the door.
(rune)
The latter had wrapped thought ahead - (bloodstains? in her car?) and shrugged into another shirt somewhere along the way. The blood wiped easily off her slick leather pants with the soaked fabric of her dedicated blouse, wrapped in a plastic bag that dangles from her index finger.Leaning against the doorframe as Decker knocks, she watches the empty hall with dark, brittle eyes and fumbles through the pockets of her leather coat for cigarettes and a light.
(imo)
She would have to be dense not to have seen the signs. Half of her was waiting for her pager to go off, a symbol of the carnage that Decker and his packmates were going to unleash. She almost hoped for it. At least it would have given her something to do.As James moves toward the door, she stands up, stabbing out the cigarette, crushing the ember beneath the ash. "I'll get it."
The sound of a voice in the room is uncanny, when for hours (they lost track) there'd been nothing but the sound of James's feet on the floor, and her exhaling poisonous smoke.
A glance through the peephole, before the deadlock snicks open, and she turns the door knob opening it to permit the two Garou inside.
(rune)
Rune's cigarette is already lit, the acrid stench of burning tobacco spills into the room, just above the underscent of blood that lingers about the pair. Dark eyes flicker over the room - not quite as shabby as she expected, given the lobby's decor - but not exactly pleasing to the discerning (spoiled) eye, either."Mind if I smoke?" mumbled, the offhand courtesy as she follows Decker inside. The other silver knife - cleaned as well, gleaming sharpbright - she pulls from her coat pocket and tosses onto the bed, before searching out her own space in the now crowded room.
(decker)
In the peephole: Rune, Decker. The former seems a little more relaxed than usual, steam blown off, bloodlust sated (for now). Gacking that damn white-furred Spiral must've felt good.The latter is, if anything, more withdrawn. Having found a stick of gum somewhere in Rune's car, he's chewing furious, jaw working the increasingly tough bit of candy long since gone tasteless.
Door opens; his grey eyes latch onto Imogen immediately, but he lets Rune go in first. Her body crosses his line of sight. He doesn't look away. Rune's inside then, and he's still looking at Imogen. A nod up, silent, and he holds out Asher's knife - handle first - as he brushes by on his way inside.
"Put it away somewhere." He didn't ever want to see it again. He could still hear Asher's last words in his head: seraphic, devilish.
(james)
tension
a part of him hated the situation he was in (he should be there to help)
a part of him hated the situation hew as putting Imogen in (not telling her when he knows she knows)
a part of him hated the thoughts that were roiling around in his mind (memories)
a part of him hated the color of this carpet he's been looking at and pacing for so longand..... wearing it, by the looks of it
perhaps its a whim that makes him change course
for the carpet
for her sanity
for his sanity
who knowshe is supposed to be here to guard her
but she's not a damned prisoner
keeping her company would be nice
and after hour three and round fifty-seven of the room, he's just about ready to find some vestige of conversation to flail at just so he doesn't feel so guilty about (what happened long ago) being nothing more than a shooting duck for her to watch wander around in aimless aggravated circles
.... the knockhe's ready to come out of his skin
half ready to assume the worste and go charging out
but, elsewise, there's something that tells him
.... it's packeven though he sees them
he's. still. tense.there's a thousand questions he wants to ask.
but instead he just watches them come in
flopping into the chair - which surprisingly doesn't break - only talking with his eyes
he's just got that.... look(imogen)
The room smells of cigarette smoke, with an ashtray, with cigarette butts littering the translucent bowl. Though Imogen does not answer Rune, the red haired woman rather assuming that the female Garou is not speaking to her, if the question is directed at her, it's obvious she won't mind. It seems the woman smokes quite enough herself.Her eyes follow Decker as the Fenrir enters, offering her Asher's knife (and it would be impossible not to notice that blood further stains the hilt), reaching out and her fingers wrap around the profferred hilt talking it from him.
The door is shut behind them, the dead lock thrown. There are approximately three places to sit in the room. Two twin beds. And a chair, that James has just taken.
The knife is stowed into the night table, the closest there is to "away" there is in the tiny motel room. Imogen walks around the Garou, finding the fourth. The window sill, leaning her hip against the cold metal, hands sliding into her pockets.
(rune)
Slim pale fingers - capable hands, killing hands - slip through bloodblack hair, and here and there twist through a few congealed spatters of blood. She tugs at the snared strands absently, then leans to flick ashes from her bright pink cigarette into the ashtray.Relaxed? Released? Perhaps, though only in comparison to the brooding Fenrir, for the GlassWalker has her own brood own. Her mobile red mouth is still, set into a distant half-frown, and her shadowed gaze affixes itself somewhere in the middle of the opposite wall.
(decker)
James takes the chair; Imogen, the window. Decker takes one of the beds, and Rune presumably takes the other.Sitting on the edge, lifting one foot onto the opposite knee and undoing his shoelaces, then reversing, he lets the silence expand until all that's done. Two dirty shoes thud to the floor and finally, he speaks, quietly and tersely informing James of the news.
"Got two of 'em. Asher and the pretty-boy Alpha. That twisted fuck's still out there somewhere, though, 'n Erik says he don't know how many more are holed up elsewhere." Peeling his socks off as well and stuffing it into his shoes, he adds, "Erik's all right. Jus' takin' a walk."
Finished - lapses into silence. To be sure, he sees James' state, but he was never one to counsel another. Tonight's no exception. Without another word, the Modi gets up and walks toward the bathroom, peeling bloodstained and stiffening clothes off as he goes.
(james)
this is
just
dandythere's almost a nervous edge that clings to him
hello?
is someone going to tell me anything
or will you let me crawl out of my own skull, first?
his attention
snaps
to the Modi's drawlinstant
relief....... sorta
you know how most people would return with a "glad you're allright"?
notice he doesn't
he knows something isn't allright
but he'll take what he can get now
Gaia knows he's learned not to push Decker when he's in a mood.so he waits until he's safely occupied in the shower
"What happened?"
real soft anyway
this time to Rune
he's asking for a lot of reasons.(rune)
"It was a fuckin' mess," Rune continues Decker's tale, her voice cool and distant, at some strange remove and almost preternaturally even. "They were in a fuckin' night club. People every-fuckin'-where."There's a brief flicker of her gaze - James, Imogen, the door through which Decker disappeared - and a glimpse of a gallows smile. "Missed 'em at the lab-placed. We got away clean, though.
"Not a scratch." Another brief, bitter half-smile. "But that nightclub..."
(terrapin)
She stops at the small "night window" and peers into the glass, ringing the bell that sits on the counter..waiting....seconds feel like minutes which then crawl to seem like hours...when the man who looks as inbred as they come heads to the door, scratching his crotch...nice...she makes a mental note to avoid this place after tonight...
"Yes, i need a room, smoking..one person" Shifting through her many pockets she produces a tattered ID and fills out the correct forms...a little more waiting as she tries not to make eye contact with the *thing behind the counter* before checking the paper he scribbled the room number on...
Easy enough. (wrong room) She forces a friendly smile and nods as she walks from the night window and towards her (not hers..theirs) room. The backpack now feeling like a ton of bricks setting on her small frame. She stops in front of the room and lets the backpack fall.
thump
Taking out the key she tries to shove it into the lock..to no avail..she tries again...odd..it sounded like there were people in there.(imo)
A hand leaves her pocket to rest on the window sill. Fingers tap a silent tattoo against the metal of the window sill, patting out a half remembered beat of some song, either half remembered or half formed. Like James, dark blue eyed attention jerks toward Decker as he speaks, and continues to follow the Modi as he departs into the bathroom. Watching him without moving until the door shuts. Then dark eyes flicker away to look out the window.As Rune speaks, mentioning the club, she reacts, however subtly, lifting off the window sill to pull a pager from her belt, eyeing the screen. It's returned to clip against the waistband of her jeans. The sound of a key scraping against the lock. Blink. She pushes off the window sill, starting to cross the room.
(james)
both brows lift in the frame of light brown should length dreads
(vines of the urban jungle, baby)
just stopping for a mo', here
night club? people everywhere?oh. shit.
"How much clean-up?"
a glance to Imogen
hey, even if they played different sites
they both shared the same Veil
but it all goes to Hell when that key soundsErik would knock
this time he beat's Imogen to the door
looking out
some chick....?
and the door opens
barely
only enough to let one 6' dreadlocked surplus geared had entirely too long of a night Bone Gnawer look out"Help you?"
(decker)
Water runs: sink and shower at once. Turn off the lights, flush the toilet, scream bloody mary thirteen times and she'll come and scratch your cheek. At least that's what they said when he was a kid.Ten years ago.
A fuckin' eternity ago.In the bathroom with the door shut behind him, Decker strips naked and throws his clothes in the sink under the blasting water. Almost immediately, tendrils of red-turning-pink curl out and seep (spiral) down the drain. The Modi himself steps into the shower running just a tad too hot, yanks the curtain shut, and watches the blood of his foes begin to wash down the drain.
Pushing that knife home, holding it there while the light flickered and faded: it had felt good. But what the Dancer had said - it'd made him keep tearing at the carcass long after it was only a carcass, and no longer a Dancer - Garou - no longer anything at all.
There was still blood under his nails. Furiously, he tears the little packet of soap open and scrubs himself head to toe, white soapsuds turning pink, running down his body and vanishing.
(imo)
Water runs: sink and shower at once. Turn off the lights, flush the toilet, scream bloody mary thirteen times and she'll come and scratch your cheek. At least that's what they said when he was a kid.Ten years ago.
A fuckin' eternity ago.In the bathroom with the door shut behind him, Decker strips naked and throws his clothes in the sink under the blasting water. Almost immediately, tendrils of red-turning-pink curl out and seep (spiral) down the drain. The Modi himself steps into the shower running just a tad too hot, yanks the curtain shut, and watches the blood of his foes begin to wash down the drain.
Pushing that knife home, holding it there while the light flickered and faded: it had felt good. But what the Dancer had said - it'd made him keep tearing at the carcass long after it was only a carcass, and no longer a Dancer - Garou - no longer anything at all.
There was still blood under his nails. Furiously, he tears the little packet of soap open and scrubs himself head to toe, white soapsuds turning pink, running down his body and vanishing.
(terrapin)
She looks -shocked- to say the least. As the guy with matching hair (ok that was odd) opens the door to [her] room. Pausing for a moment to figure out the right words to say. Standing there in the dark.
"Help me?" she pauses tugging at one of the beads woven into her dread. "the freak at the front gave me a key and a paper that said this room...but the key doesnt work" she smiles, the dimples in her cheeks caving in making her appear younger then she really is. "But obviously either I paid for a co-ed room...or he wrote down the wrong number" she blushes slightly at the mistake and looks around. The office now dark again..."which means I have a key to one of these rooms..." she points.."but i guess this isnt the one" On her backpack if he looks is the glyph of kinfolk. This was to assist her in finding others along her travels. Shrugging slightly and shaking her head she chuckles..."Sorry to bother you...I guess I will wake [him] up again and find out which door this key fits"(rune)
Behind the door, the bed creaks beneath the Glasswalker's weight as she leans to grab the knife tosses carelessly onto the bed not five minutes before, and spins supple and quick to shove it into the nightstand drawer with its cousin.Erik would knock, after all.
Whatever she might say, whatever she would say, she bites her tongue and sucks down another lungful of poisonous smoke. It's a good substitute for words - better, really, to bleed away the remnants of nervous energy, of battlelust.
Movement again - lean and long and sure - to grind the half-smoked cigarette to bits in the ashtray, before settling back and pulling a second from the pack tucked into her pocket. She lights up again, then tosses the pack to Imogen by way of offer and pulls more goodies from her depthless pocket: silvery Zippo, mottled brown prescription bottle.
(james)
a brow remains raised
skepticle to say the very least
but upon seeing that glyph.... well.... he doesn't need to say it out loud to get Rune over here
chuckling softly"Was it the guy with the black hair? He's not all there sometimes."
there's that easy going smile again
"May I see the key?"
hand held out
palm up
no, he's not going to steal it(terrapin)
She shrugs and hands him the key [not like it did her much good anyways] "black hair? actually i didnt really look at his hair, i tried to avoid any eye contact with him at all" she chuckles. Not glancing into the room...she did respect peoples privacy...
"I'm sorry if i inturrupted" she shifts her weight from foot to foot fidgeting a bit..."But since i am not psychic, i did not know this room was taken"
Eyes move to the backpack then along the ground back to the [dark] office. Oh what a night...(imo)
Attention shifts toward the sharp movement of Rune on the other bed tossing the cigarette package her way, and she fumbles with catching it, her quick reactions no where near what one would expect for a Garou. She does, however, keep the package from falling, so it says something to her. A half raise of the cigarettes in quiet thanks, she taps out one of the coloured ones, slipping it between her lips, as her hands pat for a zippo. Her own pack had been exhausted with the last cigarette before the Garou had come to enter.Eyes still half turned toward the doorway as she listens to the conversation, she thumbs the lighter's wheel, the orange flame brushing the cigarette's tip, brightening to an ember.
The package is tossed back toward Rune, either to be caught by the lithe Ahroun, or to land soundlessly on the bed as the Glass Walker answered her packmate's unspoken words.
(rune)
Rune blinks, shooting James a brief (incredulous) glance. It's the sort of suspicious coincidence that cannot be a coincidence, and while James smiles, Rune's painted red lips slip-slide into a darkening frown."The hell?" softly voiced, from somewhere behind him. The bed creeks, and lighter and pill bottle spill from her opening hands onto the scratchy polyester comforter as Rune rises and pads quietly across the room to her packmate as the rainbow colored pack falls silently on the bed.
(decker)
The shower turns off ten, fifteen minutes later. The bathroom is steamed up, the mirror fogged. Dripping, not bothering to grab one of the motel towels, Decker braces one fist against the side of the bathroom counter and reaches forward to scrub a window in the steam. In it, he can see himself, and the reflection seems to transfix him for a moment. Not a cut, not one single scratch in six feet of pale northern skin somehow baked into tanning by an Alabama sun. Blond hair shorn short, fierce grey eyes, a hard mouth, sharp cheekbones, stubborn jaw, slightly crooked nose.Blood of Fenris: just like Dad.
Then: voices outside. Someone new. Attention caught, diverted from his reflection, Decker straightens, looks down at the water still blasting over his sodden clothes. Probably not a good idea to walk out in a towel. Grabbing up his clothes, he scrubs them the best he can, then wrings them out solidly. Pinkish water dribbles out. Rinse and repeat: the water is mostly clear.
Satisfied, Decker puts the same clothes on again, cold and soggy though they may be. On top of everything, he shrugs into the still-grey sweatshirt, zips it up halfway, and opens the bathroom door.
Steam, scent of soap, blast of Rage: that's what accompanies Decker's re-entry into the room. An eyebrow shoots up at the new girl; a look, up and down; a grunt. Turning, the Modi moves deeper into the room, turning sideways to let Rune slip past on her way to the door.
He takes his seat on the bed Rune just vacated. Scooping up the rainbow cigarettes as though he'd known it'd be there, the Modi lights up as well, a puff of bluish smoke making up his contribution to the carcinogens circulating in the room. "Hell's she?" he asks with a jerk of his head toward the door: loud enough to be heard, not particularly caring.
(james)
again, there's that soft, almost warm, laughter"Quite allright. Here, try 906."
handing the key back
reversed
seems Mr. Front Desk was dyslexic
though the movement gives Rune more than enough room to see the girl outside past muscular shoulderhell if he knows what to do
glyph
woman
coincidence
strange nightI do not make the decisions here
(imo)
One hand rubs against the bridge of her nose, watching as Decker re-enter the room, and plop himself down on the opposite bed. A slight eloquent gesture of her hand indicates how much she knows, equalling nothing. A half pause, "Dunno. Apparently she's got th'wrong room," soft cornish tones, speaking drily. After all, if that was all it was, they wouldn't need both Rune and James, would they?(Terrapin)
She nods and takes the key back into her hand.."of course" she smiles. Hearing the reaction from in the room to her she quickly decides this isnt the place to be and reaches for her backpack..."Thanks for the help, sorry to have inturrupted anything" She looks around for where the hell 906 would be before starting off on her journey. Something about her just is calming, she has pure blood in her, she is confident, however she also knows when it is time to make a grand exit...and from the sounds of the inside of the room, now would be that time. "I will give 906 a try...thanks again" she pulld out something from her pocket in the quilted overalls. "For your help"(rune)
Behind James, a tall woman with swinging red-sheened black hair spilling across the cut of high, curving cheekbones, shadowed dark eyes and a redpainted frown. Her gaze flickers over the girls figure and absorbs the glyph, and a brief but pregnant pause follows as she absorbs, too, James' deference.Unsettling, that. Responsibility sits ill upon her shoulders.
"Interesting symbol - " her voice is quiet, but thick now with the rasp of too many recent cigarettes. She's been chainsmoking since the battle, after all, even after they picked up her beloved Beemer. " - I've seen it before. Why don't you come in for a moment?"
It's hard to know whether to accept - the scent of blood is probably too faint for human senses, so far removed from the scene, but there's no pure breed in either of these Urrah.
(decker)
Another grunt, mainly because he was taking a drag and couldn't form words. Didn't want to.Smoke in. Smoke out. Smearing hints of moisture in a long trail over the sheets, he backpedals on the bed until his back was to the headboard. Knees drawn up, he catches cigarette between two fingers, rests elbow on knees, and presses the heel of that hand against his brow.
Thus he remains for a moment, as though a headache pounded at him. Raising his head later, he looks about the room, taking inventory of the people, the things. Imogen, her files, her guitar, and the traces of Rune and James and the stranger though they were out of sight, just around the corner in the short hallway.
"You wanna go home?" he asks, and this is for Imogen.
(terrapin)
Uh oh...her eyes move to the backpack then to the girl who now has taken control. And this wasnt the place she would expect to see any *friends*
"Symbol" she nods.."um really i dont want to bother you all" she glances to the guy who opened the door...feeling rather inconveniencing (if thats a word)
Someone recognizing that symbol out here couldnt be too good...she tenses up...only slightly.
"Really I dont want to be a bother" her voice quiet...dammit...this sucked...
"are you sure?" one last ditch effort to try to avoid going into that room.
(james)
tense as he's been the past few hours
he could have leapt out the door and cracked her skull in two
he thinks this is going fairly well so far
must be that calming thing
and that glyph, too, that helpedand a brow lifts at the gift
you can't mistake that
not .that.
taking a deep breath for a smilewell, I'll be.
"Anytime."
but as Rune takes over
(he knows his place)
he steps out
or more.... back in
heading back to reclaim his chair
pausing en route and holding out the joint to Decker
(he looked like he needed it more)purple haze
(imogen)
He smokes, she smokes, pausing in the drawing cancerous fumes into her lungs long enough to get up an take the step it is to reach him, and tap lengthening ash into the ashtray.For all the arguements she'd put up when she'd been forced to leave, it was hard to see the condo where she lived as home. However, it was better than here.
"Yeah." She replies, honestly.
(run)
"I'm sure." firm-spoken, the words, though Rune hadn't realized it would be this easy. On another night - on any other night - they would be leavened with a smile, or at least a smirking grin, but tonight they sound grim as a death sentence. "C'mon in."Smoke spills out - old and new, the ashy scent thick as oil in the air - and Rune steps back, holding the door open just enough to let the girl in.
(decker)
Decker scoots forward a foot or so, rumpling the sheets, and takes the joint from James' hand. Leaning back again, she smokes, he takes a hit. Passes it back to James.Still had most the cigarette left. Instead of wasting it, he puts it out carefully, tucks it behind his ear.
Ten, fifteen seconds later, the slow, steady exhale. Head tilted back against the headboard, he watches smoke diffuse in the air. Terrapin would have to have the mother of all colds not to smell that on the air.
Turning his head without lifting it, he studies Imogen. "Yeah?" A beat. "Bum a ride when you do?"
(terrapin)
And that leaves no choice...as she tugs at the large backpack, which weighs half of her whole body weight. Reluctantly entering the room. Her mind flashes to the movie 4 rooms, and to the room with Quenten Tatantino and Bruce Willis, oh how she hopes this isnt anything strange like that.
She tries not to focus on anyone in the room, and keeps a close eye on the door in case she needs to escape. [not like she could if they were evil]
She stands there quiet...
ok everyone looking at me(james)
with the joint firmly in place between his lips there's a loong, gloooooorious inhale
(okay, maybe Decker wasn't the only one that needed to relax)
taking place at the foot of the bed the Modi is on
just to keep within passing distance
but he holds it out to Terrapin first
nodding to the open chair on a cloud of smoke
(good chit)"What's your name?"
she'll have to hand it back to him to get it back to Decker
but at least it won't muck up the rotation
'sides, it was her joint(imo)
Everyone looking at Terrapin.She's not. And while the Urrah's are not paragons of purebreed, there's something there beneath the waves and curls of vibrant red locks, the fresh pale skin; something about the blood that flows beneath, some thickness to the blood. It's not something she can hide, even if she wanted to.
Slenderly built, and dressed in jeans and a light sweater, the fabric clinging to her frame, the woman doesn't even grace the other with a glance (too many damned people in this room), dark eyes flickering toward Decker. "Alrigh'. Whenever y'wanna leave," she replies, only then glancing at the small dread locked girl, flickering attention up and down, features solemnly unreadable.
(terrapin)
She looks at the joint...then slowly makes her way around the room, quick inventory...2 guys 2 girls and her...yeah and that did what.....nothing. Slowly her small fingers take the joint..hell this couldnt be too bad, at least if they were going to do something to her, she would go out with a buzz.
*answer the question* Taking a long drag from the joint, making sure it didnt canoe she holds it in her lungs...feeling quite strange..to say the least. One long exhale as she sputters a few coughs out and hands it to the next person...[whoever that may be]
"Im Terrapin" she chuckles.."and yes that is my real name" the chuckle stops..yeah this didnt look like the best place to be cracking jokes..*tap tap this thing on* The smile fades slightly as she awaits the inquisition...*recognized the symbol..*(rune)
Rune turns shuts the door behind Terrapin, and snicks the deadbolt home as the girl walks into the crowded, smokey room.Given tonight, let's see if we can get Livingston to check her out. - she doesn't need to say it aloud. The pack will hear her, loud and clear.
"Have a seat," Rune says aloud, reinforcing James' silent invitation as she slips behind Terrapin and swipes her bottle of Xanax from the floor where it fell when Decker slung himself onto the twin bed and dislodged it. "...and please tell me you know what that symbol means."
(terrapin)
She nods.."course i do" and then promptly sits down. fidgeting only slightly with her dreads before laying it on the line
"and since you also do, it means either I found family...or im dead meat" Enough said there...it was obvious as kinfolk, she wasnt quite prepared to fight off much of anything. The sound of the deadbolt makes her flinch slightly..."and im hoping its the first of the 2"
(james)
there's a grin that flashes
Terrapin is far from the strangest given names he's heard
it might also be the amusement of her choke at the toke
either way, he reaches for the joint
takes his piece
and twists to hand it back to Deckerotherwise silent
Rune invited her in, he didn'tthough he doesn't mine the blaze
(decker)
Decker looks at all the people piling into the room and makes a predictable decision. Rolling off the bed, he grabs his cigarette just before it falls out from behind his ear, lights up again. "How 'bout now." It's not a question. He rarely ever questions. "Help you pack."Cigarette between his teeth, he shakes his head at the joint. Another grey-eyed stare for Terrapin - the Fenrir had a stare that could peel paint. "Family," he repeats, snorting.
(rune)
"Me too," the brief flash of a tired grin, the shake of a darkling head, as Rune straightens and slips around Terrapin back toward the door. "Though I suppose it depends which side of the Force you're on. I'm guessing you're a good guy, but I wanna have you checked out anyone. It's a little weird that you showed up tonight.""I'm Rune, by the way." She tips two - three - pills from the bottle into her cupped hand and swallows them, hard and dry.
(terrapin)
Ah that was a relief...[not] From the sounds of it, family with a hint of attitude.
Eyes moving to the girl, ahhh a little friendlier...[mental note on the pill popping. she had some of those too, and ya never know when it could come in handy] "Oh i see what you mean" she relaxes only slightly..."I was thinking the same about you" she smiles..."Normally I dont expect to find *good guys* out here, isnt there a forest or woods?" she bites her bottom lip..."I came from Oregon...been on a bus all day, and this was the end of the line" Ok hopefully that helped a bit(james)
hint?
girl you've got something to learn"James."
grinned
but otherwise, he just stays quiet
letting the buzz sink inhappy that his pack is home again
(imo)
A half shrug, as she pushes off the bed, walking toward where a pile of folders were left after James finally drove her insane with his pacing, beginning to scoop them up, as her other hand shoves the lit cigarette between her lips, holding it captive there. There's very little here of her own. Packing should be easy.(rune)
"Haven't you heard of Urrah before?" What with the clothes - low-slung black leather pants, and a designer leather jacket cinched at the waist, silk shell beneath it, and good black boots encasing her feet - and the grooming - dyed black hair, manicured nails, painted mouth and blacklined eyes - she didn't look like a country cousin. "I couldn't find my way through a child's terrarium."Rune's gaze slips from Terrapin to James - apparently deeming him the more responsible of the two remaining here. "I'm gonna go find Livingston. Can meet you here, or back at my place. I've got some calls to make too."
None that she wanted to make, to be sure, but necessary calls, nonetheless.
(Decker)
"Pine Barrens," is Decker's terse response. Thickly muscled at the shoulder, trim at the hips, Decker can be startlingly quick when he wanted to be - but never graceful. He thumps across the floor, grey eyes flicking to Rune as she announces her departure. A nod up. "Yer place."He was ditching out of here soon. Steering clear of the drawer where the silver was stored, he stands in the center of the room, looking for something he can pick up. If Imogen was a light packer, he was even more so: the whole of his belongings in the room sat on his body. Clothes, jacket (at last, in deference to the growing autumn chill), fetish-axe relegated to a tattoo on his shoulder, keys and wallet in his pocket. At length, he picks up Imogen's guitar and slings it over his shoulder by the neck like a baseball bat.
"James," he addresses his packmate, "we're goin' back to Rune's. You comin'?" A slice of a glance toward Terrapin. Apparently the kin was 'invited', too.
(terappin)
That makes her chuckle.."I tend to keep close to nature..." she looks over at James..then back to Rune..[ok who was Livingston] But she is relaxed now, the THC mixed with the fact that she didnt have to worry about being dinner tonight. At least not so far.
"I'm afraid i dont know what Urrah is" she looks embarrased...
And now she doesnt quite know what to do...she didnt mean to rain on anyones parade, or crash the party in fact she had planned on smoking the perfectly rolled doobe and chilling in front of the TV with comedy central on or something...but she was among family, and was always up for a party, even if the partiers were a bit uptight
(james)
dreads dance over his shoulders in a nod"Sure thing Rune, I'll get back to your place by morning."
while a place to stay was a place to stay
he's gotten more tired of this room in the past three hours than he has in the past odd weeks
seriously
he'll jump at the chance to go back to the condos
..... without worry of the Dancers showing up(wait.... what about Asher's little friend?)
something in the haze of dark eyes finding Decker
well, he's going to have to ask something
just.... not nowwell.... maybe he'd be there sooner than morning
while Decker's fast yet not graceful
he's got the two pretty covered
half-rolling to the side of the bed and picking up the tattered patchwork trench, and the sling with the rebar in it
already heading to the door"C'mon. They'll explain in the car."
yea.
They.
another hit before he hands the joint back to whoever wants it
he's a Hood, not a Bogart(rune)
"City folk," begins Rune's terse explanation. "Bone Gnawers. Glasswalkers. The odd Fenrir."Some crackling of old amusement slips into her voice at that, and Rune turns away, opens the deadbolt, slips out the door without another word.
(terrapin)
C'mon? ummm ok...She looks at the backpack...then to them as they leave. Aint going anywhere without it...she hoists it up..[must weigh half as much as her] and regains her balance..."yeah ok why not" she smiles and takes the joint one last time...fuck it she wastn gonna waste it.
wondering if she should find 906 first she shrugs it off..life was an adventure(imogen)
File folders. No clothing. Everything stayed at the morgue, in her own morbid fashion. She brought as little as possible. Only the essential. Her eyes follow Decker as he slings the guitar (essential) over his shoulder, before packing the file folders into a brief case.Knives.
The quiet woman crouches before the nighttable, pulling out two large sized knives, and a holster.
After a moment, cigarette still clutched between her lips, the brief case is tossed back onto the bed, and reopened. Click. The knives and holster are tossed in, amid file folders and their neatly ordered death. Clunk. It's shut and locked. A minute. Maybe. She's ready, shrugging into her jacket and scooping up her mass of keys.
(decker)
They? Decker the sullen, Imogen the bitter?
Oh, this'll be good.As everyone gets ready and heads for the door, Decker takes a last glance over the room, makes sure nothing's been left behind, and then follows them out. Room 609. Imogen's 'home' for the past week or so. Door shuts behind them, and that's it.
What about Asher's little friend...?
A good question, that. He'd caught the Gnawer's worried look, but there were certain things he couldn't account for. Too many what-ifs in the world. What if Asher had another five or six packmates? What if the whole Hive came after them tomorrow? What if...
Ding. Elevator comes. Lowering the guitar from his shoulder so it didn't bang in the tight confines, Decker gets in and taps the ground floor button.
(james)
"Well.... you've got the room if you wanna stay there."shoulders shrugging into the tattered trench
doing what he can to hide his reaction to Decker's unspoken response
(yea.... what if....)
letting the warm fuzzy of the buzz melt away the strange tension
easy going James
that's him
settling back against the wall of the elevator(terrapin)
And so she follows...why the hell not...Leaning against the wall,in the elevator. Pack acting as a pillow in between. Those dreads making their way far past her shoulders. She was a small thing, small fragile hippie tree hugging smiley happy girl [shiny happy people holding hands] among a bunch of uptight garou who seem to have had a helluva night. Oh what the hell, everyone needs a little sunshine in their world...right?
Balancing the pack she remains still...eyes moving around the group..and hat a group it was.
"you sure you dont mind me tagging along?" last chance to ditch her...(imo)
She shuts the door behind her with a hollow click, and walks quietly into the elevator, along with the rest of the group. As they go down, she stabs the cigarette out, dead and smouldering in the elevator ashtray, freeing up one hand to pull out her wallet from her jean pocket. The door opens on the ground floor, and she walks out, heading toward the desk, to settle the bill.The pitiful excuse for a night clerk is sleeping. A few times thwacking on the table to get his attention, and a few moments later, the bill is settled.
Back toward the group.
(decker)
Apparently they didn't mind; no one answers Terrapin. The group's clustered near the door in a loose knot. As Imogen returns, Decker pushes the door open. More herding: the four go out into the night. 2am again. The night clerk probably thought they were nocturnal.Out to the car. Wait by the passenger's side, get in. Terrapin and James pile into the back, and they're off to the races.
(imogen)
Apparently they didn't mind; no one answers Terrapin. The group's clustered near the door in a loose knot. As Imogen returns, Decker pushes the door open. More herding: the four go out into the night. 2am again. The night clerk probably thought they were nocturnal.Out to the car. Wait by the passenger's side, get in. Terrapin and James pile into the back, and they're off to the races.
(tuck James into corner when appropriate, cut out of chat)
Posted by james at 12:00 AMOctober 27, 2002.10.27.02. - dinner/into the sewers [erik-decker-imogen-bastion-carlos] *njb[north jersey]
(james)
when the Kin had removed herself to the room
and the Modi thereafter followed
the Gnawer went in another directionsometimes you just need a moment
and he wasn't happywell, that's not totally accurate
he had a sense of victory
perhaps there was some personal pride in playing the game well
in earning what information he did
in what information he will find when the sun sets in its next cyclebut how much will he have to pay for it?
to Sebastian.
to his packmates.
(and let us not forget our old packmates, hm? you're not leaving out that part of the night, are you?)it's a long time later that he returns
quiet
(haunted)
knuckles swollen
one of the tempered rebar sticks shoved into the sling slightly bent
keys jangle, he doesn't particularly feel like walking around to the lobby, and some locks are so common he can pick the right one without paying for that, the door to the backwell yeilding it's secrets to allow the tell Gnawer to make his way up the stairs
might as well check in
he doesn't have Rune's phone anymore so who knows what's happening(decker)
James didn't have the key to the motel room. Neither did Decker, actually. There was one key, and it was on the good doctor. James will have to knock.Inside, it's dinnertime for the thuggish Modi. Chinese takeout, three or four of those little white fold-up boxes full of food. The TV's on, sound almost muted, and the drapes are open to the deepening night outside. He's watching his food, though, so Decker doesn't see James enter through the back.
Imogen seems to be out. Probably got called off to some other gruesome death or other. Murder never took a holiday and consequently, neither did the one who followed in its wake like some bizarre Morrigan.
The phone rang once an hour ago. It was Imogen, telling him she wouldn't be back until late. Left to himself, Decker waits for his pack to get here with something for him to do. Something to track, something to kill. That sort of thing.
(erik)
It is about five minutes after James picks the pock and climbs the back stair that anothers tread is heard. Slowly and inexorably, whoever it is nears the top.(james)
he didn't have the true key to the motel room, correct
but the ring of keys is wrapped tight in his fist
paused just outside the door
he could get in if he had to
(course, he could also kick the door in, if he had to)
but hearing nothing out of the ordinary
and knowing he's not supposed to have a keylet's play it safe, James
the Gnawer knocks
keys jangling their way back into his pocket(decker0
At the knock, Decker drops his little plastic spoon, wipes his mouth and hands, and rises from the unsteady little table. His thigh brushes the edge and nearly sends the whole mess keeling over, and he scrambles to catch it before he spills wonton soup and twice-cooked pork all over the floor.Walking across the room, then, he glances through the peephole. James. Behind him, Blood Eagle. Hm. The deadbolt clicks back into the door and Decker pulls it open, turning around to return to his food almost as soon as the door's free of the frame.
"Just in time for dinner," says the brooding Modi. "Got 'nough fer three, if y'all ain't too hungry 'r nothin'."
(erik)
He steps into the small room and looks around, and as always his expression is unreadable, unless the perma-sneer coincides with his mood.He grunts at the mention of dinner... kinda forgot to eat... and folows decker. He sets a fifth of Jack Daniels down on the table and inspects the cartons of take-out.
(decker)
The motel room is small, almost cramped. The entrance opens into a narrow and short hallway to the room proper. To the left in the hallway is a door to a small bathroom. In the room, there's two twin-sized beds, a nightstand in between, a dresser with a TV on top and a single chair behind the small round table. There's a hint of old cigarette smoke in the air, indicating this was a smoking room."'S move it over to the bed."
Between the two Fenrir, the little table piled with cartons is wobbled over to the righthand bed with a minimum of slosh. With enough room for three to sit down, Decker sinks down on the corner of the bed, clicks the TV off, and gestures at the food vaguely with his spoon. "Chopsticks somewhere 'n a fork. Jus' use yer hands if you wanna."
(james)
a glance, just before the door's opened"Erik."
something of a half grin (where's that easy smile?) offered the Modi as he steps into the room
food? anytime.
the sling rattling objection as it's dumped onto the bed just behind where Decker will sit
the patchwork trenchcoat following soon thereafter in a heap
he moves on past towards the bathroomyea, he knows his place
he'll accept whatever's handed to him after they've decidedashed scars peek from beneath the A-line cut of the scrounged tank
something crawling onto his shoulders
he'll have to remember to dedicate another shirt soon
but right now he's preoccupied with washing the dried blood off his forearms(erik)
Erik takes the other bed, jacket flairing out as he sits, revealing the sawed off shotgun fetish he carries, strapped under his armpit. He shrugs as he picks up a carton of whateveritis chinees food, grabs a utensil and digs in.(decker)
Catching a wonton sloppily off his spoon as it starts to slide, Decker nods up at James. The man looked messier than Decker did today. "Hell you been up to?"(james)
there's only the sound of rushing water
scrubbing soap
and eeeeeverything else sloshing down the drain
away with you now
goodbye.it's only after he grabs the chopsticks and the little boxcup of chowmein that he answers
"Self expression."
food now, talk later
seems that's his and Decker's way, isn't it
fairly deftly (mostly) managing the slippery noodles with the chopsticks and swollen knuckles
pausing only to chew and move his stuff closer to the other side of the bed so he can sit(erik)
Erik doesn't move a muscle if James wants to sit on his bed. He won't stop the Gnawer, but he'll have to take up the far side of it.then he gets up and goes for the bottle of Jack. By the time he returns the bottle is opened and the cap is on the floor somewhere.
(decker)
Decker finishes soon enough; he'd been eating for a while before they came in. Setting his box down, the Modi moves to the window. Outside it was full-dark now, so he draws the curtains.Since no one else was taking it, he sits in the chair, propping his feet up on the dresser next to the TV. Watching his packmates eat gets old eventually, so he breaks the silence.
"Somethin' up?" - that, to Blood Eagle. It was the first time the Alpha had come around here.
(erik)
He nods once to Decker's question and throws the empty carton onto the table so he can take a long drink from the bottle of whiskey. He hands it out to the Modi "figure I've found Asher. time to finish it."
(james)
Alpha chose that bed
Alpha gets that bed
he's slouched beside and somewhat behind Decker
well.... where he was
soon as the Modi moves, he makes himself more comfortableit's not long before that little boxcup is all but licked clean
the longer you have food available
the more time it seems there is for others to try to take it
and while he trusts his own pack not to do that
old habits die hard
old memories die harder(James. Stop it.)
gathering the empty cartons into a bundle and tossing them into the normally forgotten trashcan hiding all the way over there in the corner
just listening, really.(decker)
That gets his attention well enough. Glancing sideways sharply, Decker shifts in his seat. "Yeah?" His usual apathy can't hide his anticipation. "When?"(erik)
"soon as the others get here. You gonna hit this, or what?" Refering to the bottle he is holding out to the modi.
(decker)
Barely even noticing the bottle until now, Decker leans precariously over in his chair to snag it out of the Rotagar's hand. A grunted thanks as he lifts it for a brief swallow. Didn't want to dull his senses before a hunt."Might be a while," he admits grudgingly. "Rune went down south to Atlantic City last night."
(erk)
He grunts. "Whats she doin there?"(decker)
A shrug, as the Modi tilts the chair back on two legs, rocks gently back and forth. "Beats me. Probably lookin' to scare up some Wyrmlin's to kill. Was pretty worked up after that Sebastian fuck came around last night."That reminds him. Glancing at James, "You meet up with him yet?"
(james)
yep
that's him
the quiet Gnawer on the bed
don't mind him
he'll just listenwell, until questioned
Rune wasn't the only one worked up over it"Not yet, supposed to later."
(erik)
He listens and waves the bottle back his way.(decker)
The front legs bang down on the floor as Decker leans forward to pass the bottle back. Then he's balancing on two legs again, eyeing James. Better kill that fucker when yer done. Didn't need to say it, though. If James didn't know that already, he wouldn't even be a Cliath, much less one of Eagle's.Back to Erik. "So where's Asher holed up?"
(erik)
Hits the bottle first, nice and long. "Ahhh!" He motions to toss it to James, if he wants it. "Moves around alot. Last few days been hangin at some lab. Northwest Labratory, or somethin."(decker)
Decker's never heard of a Northwest Lab. Then again, he was hardly the type to keep up on scientific matters. A grunt. "Some sorta base for 'em? How much opposition you think we're lookin' at?"(eriK)
"don't know. Big lab. High tech. If there's a hive, could be tough." lofts the bottle to James, being careful to toss it so the neck stays pointed up, since the cap is gone.(james)
he gets that look
he knows those words
knew it already, yes indeed
and therein lays the rub
quite the quandry, Little Gnawerhe has a question
but he won't ask it nowback to listening
and drinking
nodding his thanks before keeping up the rotation and passing to Decker(decker)
Decker waves the bottle off, letting it pass him by to Erik. Frowning, he toes a pad of paper off the dresser, rips off the used pages up on top, and tosses it at Erik to sketch a floorplan on. "You seen it?"(erik)
He sketches the general shape of the building, thats about it. "didn't make it inside, and he was only there these last two days. We'll try and take him when he isn't there, and then check theplace out proper later. Now I'm gettin some sleep, then we're goin."(imogen)
The door of the motel room clicks softly, the scraping of a key into a lock as the dead bolt unlocked with a rub of metal against metal and wood. A second later, a similar sound as the key is inserted into the door knob, and the door swings opens. The small woman steps inside, eyes sweeping the room, and the three male Garou inside.Turns away, shutting the door, clicking the deadbolt in place, and slipping through the small pseudo foyer, and entering the single main room.
A slender woman, she stands at about five feet two inches, complete with the boots that are being pulled off at that very moment, shoved into the small closet. Five foot one now, in her socked feet. Dark blue jeans, slung low on her hips, a medical examiner's shield clipped to her black belt, only somewhat obscured by the loose fitting poet's blouse.
She's an attractive woman with finely chiselled features, pale skin. Dark blue eyes, that once more flick over the gathered three. Red hair, all curls and waves, half contained at the base of her neck with an elastic band. A few more steps into the room, and she reaches the bureau, unclipping the badge and tossing it by the ash tray. Keys soon follow.
(decker)
(The player had to sleep *grins*)Catching the pad as Erik (presumably) tosses it back, Decker nods wordlessly, then looks down at the sketch. A few doors, the shape of the building, that's it.
Erik stretches out and goes to sleep like a true warrior: in ten seconds flat, fully dressed, shotgun still strapped to his side, an arm over his eyes. Guess he and James were gonna have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.
...and, as the door opens, Decker looks up from the pad. He watches Imogen make her way into the room with one and then another half-wary glance for the overabundance of Garou in the room, complete with one sprawled asleep on what had been her bed. Moving his feet aside for her to toss her things down, he rests them instead on the edge of the dresser.
"'S Erik," he explains, simply. "My Alpha."
Done with the sketch, he holds it out for James to look at. There isn't much information there; not much that they can really plan with.
(james)
he noticed that too
hm
well, at least he can make wherever this somewhere else is, comfortablelooking up as the door slides open
offering a bit of a smile to Imogen
the warmth still not quite therestretching to grab the pad
"Where's the lab again?"
(decket)
The Modi shrugs. "Ain't too sure. Erik ain't said. Can probably look it up in a phone book 'r somethin', though." A pause. "You gonna talk?"About the Bone Gnawer's less than happy mood, apparently.
(imogen)
An eyebrow lifts slightly as she glances at the armed man sprawled on the bed, her attention shifting to Decker as he completes his explanation in five words or less. "Ah," as she is enlightened.Explanation tendered, she starts looking for somewhere to sit, vaguely contemplating the unpleasantness of staying in a motel room with an unknown Garou sleeping in the other bed.
The good doctor's attention shifts to James as he speaks, an eyebrow lifting before settling again, as she crosses the room to sit against the cool metal of the window sill.
(james)
that's what he was thinking
then next page flipped to and he copies the sketch, writing the name, and, well, that's it, really
slowly, those eyes lift to the the gray storms of his packmates"What do you want to know."
(decker)
Decker watches the kinwoman make her way across to the windowsill. Must feel like running some sort of bizarre gauntlet. To have Decker and his personality crammed into her room is bad enough; to have three of them occupying every last sit-able space had to be worse.Returning to James, Decker moves muscled shoulders in a shrug. "The hell got on yer case?" Let's start with that...
(imo)
It certainly provides one with a feeling of being somewhere one does not belong. A female kinfolk in a room with male Garou, entering in the middle of the conversation.Add into the fact she isn't sure she wants to know, and she hasn't got a clue where to look, nor what to do. One hand rests on her knee, while she lifts the other one, inspecting nails cut close to the quick.
(james)
well, at least one of them was asleep
but with Decker's overwhelming personality
and the obvious lack of the normal mellowness in the Gnawer
well
he'd've picked the windowsill, too
honestlybut a glance asks in silence if she wants to sit somewhere comfortable
she would have more right to it than him
since she's paying for the room anyway
taking up residence on the floor doesn't bother him one bit"Do you want the short or long version?"
(decker)
It's called skirting the issue. He'd know. He'd done it long enough, himself. Months.The two front feet of the chair come down with a thump, and Decker turns it around to face James. Imogen's presence is either being ignored or accepted. Pick one. The quiet southern slur as he leans forward, picks a toothpick off the table and pokes it through its plastic wrapping, "You wanna tell me the short or the long?"
(james)
there's a moment of silence
a moment of indecision
not something he shows this openly all too entirely often
but considering the present company, it's allrightcry in the dojo, laugh in the battlefield, right?
and it's not like he has much of a choice
who's the lowest rung on the pack's totem pole, here
he'd have to answer whatever he's askedbut there's a look in his eyes that appreciates the choice
"I would tell you both. The long to show I'd hide nothing from you. The short to save on time."
(decker)
The choice comes back to the Modi. After a moment's pause, he sits up from his sprawl in the chair, muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he adjusts to the new center of balance. He looks at Imogen while he considers it, possibly merely for the purpose of looking somewhere, and finally looks back at the raggety man."Tell me the short. After we settle the score with the Dancer, there'll be time for you 'n I to have a longer chat."
Something that was necessary, perhaps.
(james)
the Gnawer sucks on his lower lip in thought
summarizing"Lazarus isn't my favorite person anyway, and to see something frighten her kind like she saw the dead was unsettling, then to hear it was an old packmate made it worse, because I've also run into Missy and she has some serious issues going on, so it's compounding, and then Bastion.... I don't even know what he is but it creeps me out, and then we've got all this trouble with Asher on top of that.... let's boil it down to things are hitting a little close to home."
which probably didn't clear much up
that talk next time
right.(imo)
Gaze meets gaze for a moment as Decker looks at her, before her attention flicks away, glancing over her shoulder out the window, to the dingy pool and the street beyond.(decker)
Too much information thrown at him too fast is as good as nothing. In the end, the Modi can only comment on one thing. "Missy..." furrowed brow, thinking, "...I'll look fer her sometime."Everything comes back in the end.
Everything goes full circle.Leaning down, the Fenrir reties his shoelace. Getting to his feet, then, he pops his neck to the side. He takes a step toward Imogen, but by then her attention had gone elsewhere, out the window to the pool, the street, and he's out of her line of sight even in reflection. James, then, is the only one who'll see the hesitation, the flicker of frustration, before Decker turns instead to his packmate.
"Leavin'," he says, no explanation for it other than the unspoken, obvious one. "We'll talk later."
He doesn't have to tell James to lock the door behind him.
(james)
he wanted the short version, he got it
there's a nodthat's it
just a nodgotcher back, man
about to move to lock the door, but Imogen's got it this time around
locked. and. loaded.
(poor guy, he's got it bad, she does, too)
and those dark eyes look to Imogen's
or at least, where they would be if she was looking at him"So...... how was your day at work, dear?"
let's call it grasping for something to break the tension
(imogen)
She'd been turning around to walk back into the room, when he'd spoken, pausing to eye him for a moment as he speaks. Her eyes are dark, too, an indescrible blue caught somewhere between the night sky lightened by stars and a lake with a depth that seems to never end. A moment passes as she just looks at him; the attempt to break the tension apparently did not pass. One hand slides into her back pocket, while the other brushes strands of hair away from her eyes. "Pointless. The bloke on call actually showed up."(james)
in our last episode
we found our fair heroes in a nice condo, expensively furnished, pristine, and she was getting him all inky with the fingerprints
this time
we find our fair heroes in a dingy, cheap motel, smokey, seedy, cheap and fast, it's already all dirty and inky grungey
and he still feels out of place
and this is his type of place!past few nights
they've just been too tired to talk
so the silence hasn't been that noticeable
but now that they're both wide awake
and, well, paying attention to each other
grrhe's not the one with feelings for her and even he is trying to find somethign to do with his hands
as that attempt just crashed and burned
moving his sling and dumped into pile trench off the bed so she can sit
where the dreads sway from his shoulders, the ash scars peek from beneath the tank's sleeve cut
riding that tension in his muscles"We would've saved you some food... but he didn't know when you were coming back."
and Chinese tastes like shit cold
(imogen)
Our fair heroes.If someone was watching from the outside, one might think this a wonderful story, a great fairy tale. A deadly foe that damages the environment. A damsel in distress. A battle to fight. A war to win (and lose). But when the rage fills your veins and you realize you don't care who you kill, but only that you feel the blood whet your fire, it's about then you realize
There are no heroes anywhere.
Quiet and distant, with bruises hidden by the cloak of a thin poet's shirt, mixing with the ink of a tattooed brand belonging to a tribe she would rather not see, she is no damsel in distress.
The hotel room is starting to look lived in, somewhat. A brief case is stowed in the corner, sitting atop two file folders. In another corner is a guitar, resting on a stand, it's edges worn and used. The ashtray's had some use, and while he vacates the bed, she strides to it, picking it up, her other hand patting her pockets for a cigarette package, her head jerking toward the sleeping warrior on her bed, "Think he'll mind if I smoke?"
Perceptive enough to catch what he's doing, a faint flicker of suprise echoing in dark blue eyes, she moves to take up the spot on the bed he'd just vacated, shaking her head slightly, "Don't worry," a faint hint of a smile touches her mouth, barely an illusion, "I'm not so hungry anyway." Sitting with her back against the headboard, legs crossed indian style as she places the ashtray before her.
(james)
there's a glance towards his Alpha
head shaking
it's your room
which would be the reason he's taking up residence in the vacated chair
coat dumped on the table
sling across bent knees
though he glances up with a soft smile"I'd offer to make a run to that place down on the corner if you were."
hey, he's Gnawer
everybody eatz, even if it's just macaroni and cheeze
plus this is his packmates....er..... friend
there are a lot of reasons
anywayone of the rebar sticks is pulled from the sling, and a frown crosses young features, however breifly
it's bent, just a little bit, three-quarters the way up (or down, however you look at it) not enough to breach the integrity of the structure but enough to be noticed, and enough to really mess up the intended, normal use of the drumstick
judging by how swollen his knuckles are, still, it's a good bet he did it himself
cause of whatever got to him
frown deepening to realize he can't straighten it himself, eitherbut that's about the point the Ragabash stirs, attention flicking - there's something else to be said about the sleep of true warriors: they don't need much of it. There's a quick conversation, introduction, apprasal of the current status of the Modi, and then Blood Eagle's off again - the door locked behind him.
(imogen)
She'd stayed mostly silent through introductions and explanations, speaking when necessary; generally, reacting to the ragabash the same way she'd reacted to James. It must be nice to know it's not just him that she's frosty with; seems to be almost everyone.Soon after he'd left, she pulls a slightly bent cigarette packet from her back pocket, tapping one out, and slipping it between her lips, lighting the tip with a cheap orange bic lighter. She speaks around the filter, eyes turning back to the Bone Gnawer, "What lab?"
(james)
it's nice to know, indeed, even if it doesn't change muchrealizing and accepting are two different things
so he's grabbing each end of the bar
doubling over for knuckles to rest against the ground
his boot over the bend
and up. he. pulls.it works, a little
but the steady pull of an Ahroun versus the damage he made when swinging the stick at full force
reiterated: a little
but it's something to do with his hands"Northwest. Do you know of it?"
looking up through the jungle vine curtains of dreadlocks
(seb)
...watch me watch you...They'd run from the condominium because the Dancers knew where they lived. Now they were holed up where a creepy (stalker) unknown entity could find them. That knew which rooms was theirs. How much of an improvement was that, I wonder?
knock knock knock
(imogen)
She watches him... well, not him specifically, so much as what he was doing, dark unreadable eyes on the metal bar between his hands, and the progress however small he's making on the thick material.Her brow pinches slightly into a frown as she raises the cigarette to her lips again, inhaling slowly, the ember brightening for a moment. Exhale. The ember fades. "I think ..." she begins, trailing off as someone knocks on the door. Blink, glancing sideways at the Ahroun, before getting to her feet and crossing the room, and peering through the peek hole.
And turns and walks back, glancing at the Gnawer as she does, slipping the cigarette between her lips, "It's th'guy you chatted with so long yesterday," the one who had followed her down the stair cases, and had asked millions of questions.
Evidently, she wasn't going to answer the door.
(carlos romani)
What a shit hole... Shoudn't have gone with the Armanti... What was he doing here? Because he'd been told to be, that's why.This Sebastian guy gave him the creeps on the best of days. Tonight he was being downright weird.
Mental note: my situation hasn't changed, I'm still following orders.
(seb)
There are times when you learn to be patient. Now was one of those times. It had been made clear that his attentions on this little group was somewhat unwelcome (understatement). But, a deal had been made to occur tonight and needed to be concluded. He knew someone was in there, that much he could hear. The muffled voices and movement of bodies.
(james)
gee, isn't this symbolic
but whatever train of self-demeaning and rambling thought that is there gets distracted by the knock
up and at 'em, Jamespeering through, the Gnawer frowns
now there's two of themtwo.
what the hell is he supposed to do now?
the deal was for tonight
but he can't leave Imogen alone
and he really doesn't want to take her with him
and....shit.
the door opens anyway
the length of rebar in his hand hidden behind the wood
the other resting on the open frame
the dreadlocked Gnawer stands there
scrounged wifebeater
surplus black baggy cargos
second hand cochrans"Evenin' Bastion."
smiled fairly pleasently
he's remaining in the doorway between the two men and Imogen
ever feel like you're caught between two worlds?(seb)
He inclines his head, lowering his eyes as he does so, in polite greeting to the daggy young man positioned in the small opening of the door."Good evening, Jukebox. I hope you are well this evening? I did not mean to intrude, but I have the services of my assistant for only this night for the explorations you wished to endeavor in."
Well that explained why there were two men at the door, rather than just the lone Bastian The Creepy.
(imo)
The red haired woman sits on the edge of the bed, one hand reaching behind her to grab the ashtray and set it beside her. Ash is tapped into the sooty centre, and she leans foward resting one elbow against her knee, placing the cigarette between her lips once more, eyes facing forward as she listens to the conversation.(carlos)
Eyes cut towards Bastian, eyebrow cocked. He mutters something unintelligable under his breath.(james)
the Ahroun's eyes slide over to Carlos
yes, that did explain his presence
mostlythis. was. not. good. timing.
Decker's gone
Erik's gone
that leaves one Gnawer that's supposed to be on a mission
and one Kin he's supposed to be guarding
who really shouldn't go along on the missionbut does he have a choice?
how high is the price going to be for this...... split in how many ways
"Would you give me a few moments to gather some things beore we leave? I wasn't expecting you quite yet."
(seb)
"We don't mind waiting, do we, Mr. Romani?"He nods politely again to the Gnawer with an open gesture for the other man to take some time for the preparations.
He also didn't bother to look at Carlos when he asks the almost rhetorical question of his companion.
(carlos)
"No, of course not. We have all night, Mr. Bastian."He's been told to be on his best behavior. Mental image to self: I'm with my grandmother. Mind my manners.
(decker)
Ding.Elevator comes up again at the far end of the hall. There aren't many rooms on the sixth floor, and there aren't many tenants walking in and out at 11pm: too late for the legit, too early for the illegit. Three guesses to who it is.
Elevator doors slide open. Slouched against the wall, one hand rubbing at the chapped knuckles of the other, the Modi looks up and notes not one but two strangers in front of room 609. Correction. One stranger and one effeminate freak.
Let's just invite the whole fuckin' city, shall we?
He is, needless to say, less than pleased. Pushing off the metal wall as the elevator jounces to an unsteady stop, Decker drops into the usual brooding, swaying gait, old shoes scuffing the thin carpet of the hall. Plenty of advance warning, here. It's still not enough.
Ten feet away, it hits them like a desert heatwave: a rolling invisible, deafening-silent scorch of rage. To think, he'd been out blowing it off, too. His eyes flicker over the pair, frowning, and then he nods up to James. "Hell's this all about?"
(james)
"Good.... I won't be long, thank you."even when confronted with not one, but now two strange, creepy men at a door to a place they...... shouldn't know about but do (mental note: move) he minds his manners well
a polite smile
and the door is closed
after he all but drags the Modi insidewell, he makes it look a lot smoother than that
but he's never been so pleased to see Decker in his life
really.
his voice low"These two just showed up, not even five mintues ago, no warning, no nothing. I don't even know how they got the room number. I have to go with them, or I lose my chance to find out whatever it is that they're going to show me. I have to go, but I'd appreciate the backup if you're wanting to come along."
that was to Decker
a glance to Imogen
cause if the Modi's coming with him, she'll have to as well
else there's nobody around to watch over her if this is a distraction plot
or.... if they want her to come along....and...
.....he's just lost
he doesn't know what to do, he's not supposed to be making decisions
just gathering up the sling and his patchwork trenchcoat(carlos)
Let's not throw caution to the wind, let's give the large angry man some space (then again, anyone over 5'5" is large). Avoid eye contact. Step behind Bastian to avoid attention, although that's hard in an Armani suit. I'm just the little guy.(imo)
Her attention shifts from a blank spot on the wall, toward the door at the sound of Decker's voice, absently flicking ash into the ashtray.This time, she doesn't bother to hide the fact she's listening, or perhaps it's the first time she's truly paying attention when two Garou are talking and she is not involved.
(carlos)
Carlos was of obvious Italian descent and he looked like he should be toting a violin case packed with a tommy-gun. For sure he looked like he should have two rock-apes behind him. A fedora was perched on his head. His Armani suit was immaculate right down to his black polish-to-be-mirror-like spats.(seb)
Sebastian, naturally, looked like Sebastian. The whole monochrome effort still in effect, although his hair was, tonight, pulled back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. He waited in silence, standing far too still to be comfortable, staring at the closed door as if he could still watch the actions of the occupants within.(decker)
The minute the door closes, Decker all but throws James off, the farther the better, one stiff finger leveled at the reeling Bone Gnawer on the end of a half-flexed arm in silent warning, accusation, something. Back off, stay off.A seething, sullen silence as Decker stares at James, stares him in the eye and measures the truth of his statement. I don't even know how they got the room number.
Finally, barely audible, "This damn well better be worth it."
Dropping his hand, he steps into the bathroom, slams the door, and takes a fucking piss. Toilet flushes, water runs; shaking his hands dry, he stalks back out, looking between James and Imogen and the clock.
"C'mon." To Imogen, that. Looks like yet another night of running around with the Garou for her.
(seb)
He looked down and to one side for a moment, before returning his attention to the closed doors."Very nice shoes, Mr. Romani."
(carlos)
"Thank you, Mr. Bastian."This was obviously a working relationship. Small talk from Mr Creepy? That just made it even worse.
(imo)
Decker's fury is easy for a blind man to see, and for Imogen it's as platable as the air she breathes. He slams into the bathroom. Slams out. Orders her to come with them.Fuck.
She doesn't have to say it, as she stamps out her cigarette, standing up, and crossing the room, pulling a jacket from the closet and shoving her arms through it as she simaltaneously pulls her boots on. Three seconds, and she stands there, hands shoved into the front pockets of her jeans. Ready.
(james)
reeling?
you betcha.but there's something in his eyes again
hey, he followed you're fuckin' girl out of the building last night, why don't you get mad at her? maybe she lead them up here. ever think about that or is it all the fuckin' street rat's fault?
you can bet he doesn't say it.
he does, however, say, just as softly"You aren't the only one that hopes so."
he has a feeling he'll be paying for it with his hide
(again)
shrugging the trench on over ash scarred shoulders
sling, well, slung
and he's back out the door and into the hallway"Shall we, Bastion?"
a glance to his friend
they haven't been introduced yet
and he makes sure to stay out of the Modi's reach(seb)
Bastian doesn't even blink when the door is opened pretty much in his face, but he does step back allowing more than ample room for the trio to exit as they pleased."Of course, Jukebox."
A polite pause before he makes a sweeping jesture towards his immaculate Italian companion.
"May I introduce Mr. Romani. He will be our guide tonight."
He waits for the pleasentries to be exchanged, not interruping the formalities.
(carlos)
He nods politely to James."Pleased to make your acquiantance. I have a car waiting, should you require transport."
(imo)
He nods politely to James."Pleased to make your acquiantance. I have a car waiting, should you require transport."
(decker)
Decker is the second one out. Still no jacket. Would have to get one soon. Hardly immaculate as both the men outside seemed to be (what is this, some bad mob flick?), Decker's seething, built like a young bull, dirty as if he'd just had a knock-down drag-out fight in the rain.Last night it was one little slick asshole, and he should've splatted it then. Tonight it's two. Tomorrow - what. Four? Eight?
No pleasantries out of this one. Then again, he wasn't involved in the conversation anyway. Silent, he pulls the door shut after Imogen and shifts his weight - slow, deliberate - from one foot to the other. When Carlos speaks, he cuts in abruptly.
"Got our own."
Looks like Imogen was just volunteered.(carlos)
A polite nod to Imogen."You career choice is rather fascinating, Dr. Sluaghter. It's a pleasure to make your acquiantance, also."
Mental Note: Dr. Sluaghter. What an unfortunate name.(imogen)
Eyes turn toward Carlos and his pleasantness, unresponsive, only a sharp inclination of her head at least acknowledging that he'd spoken to her.Decker volunteers her. Hands reach into her pockets to insure she brought the keys. A reassuring jangle, and she waits for the little happy party to move on out.
(james)"A pleasure."
he's quiet too
but for different reasons than the Modi
..... mostlyfinally stopping
right before they hit the elevator button
right before everything gets set in concrete
standing to block the doors
urban primitive straight out of the heart of the concrete jungle facing off to the best civilization appears to have offered them this night, the barbarian and the nobles, the cutthroat and the boss
he may be lost
but he's still Ahroun
and that's his packmate standing right behind them"First things first. What's tonight's price."
(seb)
"Then I guess we shall get this merry show on the road, so to speak."He turns, walking down the hallway to the elevator behind James and stops (maybe a little too close for the mind of any good hetrosexual male) beside him. He quirks an eyebrow and smiles at the young dread-locked Gnawer in his generally forlorn way.
"Firstly you will agree to share whatever it is that you find hidden, with both myself and Mr. Romani."
He pauses, but doesn't bother to glance back over his shoulder at Decker.
"Secondly, I have arranged safe passage which I alone have paid for, but which will cover then entire group and as such, agreement of all parties involved to not cause a disturbance is required in return. Although you may be unaware, there are those who hold territories much like your own who do not wish their peace to be disturbed, tonight or any other night."
(james)
the appraisal of the immaculately creepy man is cool and calm
no matter how close he may be standing
it doesn't offend him
for whatever the reasons"The first I expected, it becomes a fair exchange. As for the second, what is your definition of the particular disturbance that all parties will not cause."
he is more than aware the very act of observing causes a disturbance
(seb)
"Violence will not be tolerated."It is as simple as that.
"I do not threaten, by this request. I merely suggest caution. However powerful you may in your own rights, there are always things that exist that will be more powerful than you at any given time. These things prefer not to bestir themselves to remove those who wish to make themselves a nuisance."
(carlos)
He's surrounded by possibly violent people. Again.. Fuck it. Seen this movie. Done this scene. Hopefully he can fade into the background. Play a bit part.(imo)
Through coppery eyelashes she regards Sebastian as he speaks, her weight shifting slightly from one foot to the other as she stands some foot or so behind Decker.At five foot five, Carlos is one of the smaller individuals here. At five foot two, Imogen's smaller, her build whip-slender, the kind of bone structure that makes one seem even more petite, and dwarfed; particularly when compared to the hulk that is Decker. One hand reaches up, tendering back strands of hair behind her ear, much of the titan mass pulled back into a careless pony tail at the base of her neck.
(decker)
Decker looks at James.It's the Totem that links them, mind to mind. It's the cry of the Eagle that mixes into the low snarl of the Modi: Bullshit. They turn us into their lackeys, get us to dig up what they's afraid to. They get all the goods and walk away knowin' shit about us no one ever should. You wanna go ahead with this, you better have a damn good reason.
(seb)
He laces his fingers together, pressing palm against palm, waiting for either the agreement to the terms or for this to fall to pieces, so to speak. He'd watched them. He'd observed the power plays acted out in posture and tone of voice. He was well aware that, for one reason or another perhaps outside his ken, that James was below Decker on the heirarchy of things. Even if James had done all the talking, thus far. Although, that wasn't particularly surprising, considering Decker didn't present himself as much of a... people person.(carlos)
He leans in towards Bastian (not too close) and speaks softly. He has his pocket watch held in one hand."Time is a factor in this little endeavor, Mr. Bastian."
(james)
oh
this. is. just. peachywhy don't you hand a starving man a menu, say it's free, as long as he doesn't use his mouth
the Gnawer is silent for a stretch of moments
listening
thinking"At the core of every man, lays violence, Bastion. I think you know this as well as I. I am sure you also know how wide a definition falls beneath the umbrella of violence. So I wonder the transcendence offered by an agreement that continues to leave you with the upper hand in a situation that already makes me believe will risk my life.... because you have not used your own resources to uncover that which you will send me to find. I will agree to the first, but not the second.... because as you said yourself last night, I am no man's keeper. I am not responsible for the actions of others nor do I have the rights to control them. Be it yours, those of another power, or my friends. If this is unacceptable, then I apologize for wasting your time."
gaze flickers to Decker.... Imogen
the aplogy was to all of them
he cared about why the rats were dying
he knows they don't
Mother Rat forgive him(seb)
"Then perhaps you will agree that, as such, I will take no responsibility, nor step in, should any of you start something beyond your abilities. I will state now that there is no thing - man or beast - where we go that means you harm nor will attack you without provocation this night. If you choose to take offense by whatever you may come across for your own personal reasons and start an issue of violence, be it on your own heads the outcome. As you have said, we are all no one's keeper. But as Mr. Romani has stated, time is of the essense. I have bargained for one night and one night only."He pauses and turns slowly to Decker, gaze shifting to Imogen and then back to the larger youth. Then he turns back to James, speaking softly.
"If it Dr. Slaughters wellbeing that you are most concerned with, I will give you my oath that, while on this expedition tonight, no harm from man or beast shall befall her while she remains within my - our -company."
In other words, if something did happen to make the shit hit the fan, he wouldn't step in for Decker nor James, but Imogen would be gaurenteed more than one or two people at her back.
(imo)
And the woman, too, holds her silence, a quiet presence a few steps away. Expressionless comes easy to her, and her features are unreadable, even as dark eyes, a shade of impenetrable blue turn to Sebastian as the effeminate youth guarantees her safety.(decker)
At the reassurance, merely a slight flicker of his grey eyes, which are either narrowed or half-lidded; one or the other.After a beat, the thug shifts his shoulder against the wall, his arms across his chest, and lazily crosses one foot over the opposite ankle, which supported his weight. A moment he sucks on his teeth, giving a brief nod up at Sebastian. Then he clears his throat quietly and breaks his silence for the first time this night - to them, at least.
One last question.
"This invisible bigcheese of yers. Where's his turf begin?"Likely what he wants to know is, does it coincide with the Eagle's?
(carlos)
Great. Fantastic. They'd all had their say. Maybe they could agree. This century, maybe. He rached past James and pressed the elevator button. If nothing else, he would be heading down, one way or another. (Whether by the elevator or a window)(james)
"If nothing means us harm, then there would be no reason for us to harm it back."doors sliding open behind him
and the Gnawer steps inin for a penny, in for a pound
this better be worth what he's paying(seb)
"There are many..."He looks caught between amusment and confusion at Decker's choice of words to describe the instigator of this scenario.
"'Bigcheeses'. However, if you refer to he who torments the rats, then I am unable to answer. Many have whispered that he claims the city, nay, the state as his own. Delusions of granduer make it difficult for one to know what He believes at any one time. Tonight, however, we need not fear that he will come upon us, of that I am sure."
He places his arm in the openning of the elevator and gestures everyone else to follow James. He is polite; he is making sure the doors slide closed on none of them. He will be the last in and thus, the first out.
(carlos)
"Thank you, Mr. Bastian."A polite nod of his head as he steps in. Hmmm. Small enclosed space and lost of dangerous people. Could this night get any worse? Oh yeah. The smell.
(decker)
Another moment's delay. Then, with a wordless glance at James, Decker joins the others in the elevator.(imo)
And off we go. She steps into the elevator, hands shoved into her pocket, taking a half step back so Sebastian can even enter.(seb)
After Imogen has stepped in, the last of those he made the gesture to, he steps in and allows the door to slide closed. He presses the ground floor button.When the doors open on the ground floor of the reception he steps out and without word crosses the area and steps out into the night air and waiting parking lot.
(james)
well
he did his best
for whatever it's worth he's doing his best to not trap them
(and who was the first to walk into the elevator? Good going, Jamey-boy)it's days like this he really considers what it would have been like to stay in New York
the wordless look isn't returned
he's looking down
the entire ride to the first floor
he's looking down
all the way out through the lobby and into the street to head to the respective cars
he's. looking. down.(carlos)
And waiting in the parking lot is his midnight blue '53 Buick. It turned corners like refridgerator on wheels, but in a crash it was hell to dent.He opens the driver's side door and gets in, waiting for anyone else who chooses to go in his car.
Which will probably be Mr. Creepy.
(decker)
The elevator ride down is cramped and uncomfortable - not to mention hair-raising, with the creaks and squeals coming out of the machinery of the ancient rustbucket. Too late, they notice the sign - CAPACITY: 4/600lbs.But they do make it to the bottom. Piling out, the three break away from the two, and Decker waits at the shotgun seat for Imogen to open her car up. Once they get in, once the doors are shut, Decker turns and speaks to - it seems - Imogen and James both.
"They gave us their word, but for all we know their word ain't worth squat. So we assume it ain't worth squat even if it's proven otherwise. We don't start nothin' on their turf 'less we have to, but keep yer guard up." A flicker of a glance behind them. He seems about to say more, but turns roughly around, striking the dashboard with the heel of his hand.
Then he falls back into his silence.
(seb)
Yes, it appears that Mr. Creepy was going to be enjoying a ride with Mr. Suit in his '53 Buick (tank). As Decker takes shotgun in Imogen's car, so he takes shotgun in Carlos'.Let the games begin.
(carlos)
He checks the rear-view mirror as he backs the Buick out. Twitch. They don't make mirrors like they used to."Let's roll."
I've always wanted to say that...
And so, the two car procession heads off down the streets to where the rats dare not go.
(imo)
The kin's enveloping silence remains prominant down the elevator ride and as she unlocks, unarms the SUV, letting Decker into the shot gun seat and James into the back. She slides into the driver's seat, key half into the ignition as Decker speaks.His heel strikes the dashboard, and the plastic creaks, and she flinches, shoving the key the rest of the way into the ignition, turning it, and starting the engine. Dark eyes turn to watch as the buick backs out of the parking spot, shoving the car into gear, and following the car.
Sebastian Damien Miller Mon 01:32AM EST He emerges from the Buick, looking as classic as the car (save that it is for entirely different reasons) and strokes the roof of it while waiting for the others to gather around for the next step in this late-night adventure.
Carlos Romani Mon 01:31AM EST He parks the Buick tank along the curb of the road at their destination. It's safe. Stealing a car like this from a place like this is bound to attract attention. He gets out and waits. He'll follow Mr. Creepy's lead.
(james)
metal clanks as the sling shifts on climbing into the back
yep, went straight for the back doornodding silently
pulling the scraps of rags out of the trench pockets to wrap his hands again
why.... now that they've begun this journey
does he suddenly feel worsehands shoved into his pockets on exiting the SUV
tattered sleeves go down to his knuckles
hiding the prep work
making his way to Bastian and his little friendtime is of the essence, after all
(seb)
When all have gathered he turns to Carlos and offers him a flowering gesture to the other man."After you, Mr. Romani."
(imo)
The car parks, and the trio departs it, the alarm chirping, and locks clicking as Imogen shoves the keys back into her pocket. Joining the little gathering.(carlos)
The car parks, and the trio departs it, the alarm chirping, and locks clicking as Imogen shoves the keys back into her pocket. Joining the little gathering.(seb)
"Well, if you insist, Mr. Romani."A play of a smile on his thin, feminine lips as he quirks an eyebrow at the Italian Mafioso-type.
(car)
Damn. I hate it when he smiles like that..."I do, Mr. Bastian."
(decker)
Leave Imogen to get snapped up by Asher or drag her to meet god-knew-what, and he picked the latter. Great.Letting James take the lead and Imogen take the center, he brings up the rear, one hand stealing up to touch the tattoo he had not had before he left on his little visionquest. The two men's bickering over who led draws a tightjawed snort from the Modi, who otherwise remains quiet, chin set at its contemptuous tilt, eyes lazily half-lidded.
He's lived in a jungle since long before his Change. Sometimes, it's all about appearance. Show weakness, and you've halfway lost already.
(seb)
"Very well, Mr. Romani. If you insist."He turns to the trio with that same small smile that he gave to the Suit. He then slides his glance to Carlos, dark eyes seeming to dance with some sort of amusment.
"I think it only appropriate to offer your wellingtons to Dr. Slaughter. It would terribly improlite to expect her to go otherwise."
(carlos)
"Why how thoughtless of me, Mr. Bastion. Thank you ever so much for reminding me."With that he goes to the boot of the Buick and removes a pair of green wellingtons. He closes the boot of the car and returns. He offers them, politely, to Imogen.
(james)
oh for crying out loud"Where am I going. Who's leading me there. Now."
(seb)
He turns on his heel, coat flaring around him like some gy-gone ear cloak, and walks down into the alleyway where the rats refuse to go. Part way down he stoops down to the ground and there is the sound of metal scraping against concrete.Apparently they are going into the sewers.
"Down here is where the answers lie, Jukebox. As above so below."
(imo)
Watching the men quibble about politeness and who goes, and now they're talking about wellies. One hand reaches up to rub at her nose, as she stares at Carlos with muted frustration. For the first time, the good doctor speaks, since she'd declared that those two were at the door. "Your courtesy is astonishing." Dark dry sarcasm that bites, her dislike of them, or perhaps the situation, is obvious, though she takes the wellies regardless.She only has one pair of boots without dragging some Garou with her back to the Condo.
Boots are kicked off and replaced with the far too large wellingtons. And she waits for James to enter the sewers.
(james)
something crackles a strange energy as he walks through the alleymouth and follows
sends chills up one's spine, doesn't itbelow, eh?
and a brow lifts
this better be more than simply taking a look in the sewers
he could have figured that out without their pleasent company
course... he's heard stories about things that lurk in city sewers that are far more.... interesting.... than the ratshe's not bickering about who goes first
he just goes
(into the mouth of....?)Carlos Romani Mon 01:49AM EST He isn't that far behind Sebastian. He picks the manhole cover up with something akin to a grunt. He waits until they are all down below before he follows. He replaces the manhole cover once he has descended.
Decker Rohl Mon 01:48AM EST And, once again bringing up the rear, Decker descends the ladder into the manhole.
(seb)
It's dark down here, even with the fading service lights along the walls in rusting, slime covered brackets. Sebastian either doesn't care or doesn't notice. It's hard to tell, especially in this light. He seems to blend in with the murkiness of the whole situation. First the most part he stays to the edge of the water runway, but a few meters down he crosses over the rank water. Looking down each way of the tunnel there are rat eyes in the distance. Not close. Definately some 20 meters of so back. But they are there.And so are several small eyes, glowing like tiny red orbs.
(pause!)
Posted by james at 12:00 AMOctober 26, 2002.10.26.02. - quid pro quo [bastion-decker-rune] *njb[cont'd from previous scene, beginning of new jersey's box storyline tie-in]
(james)
ever have a conversation that just leaves a bad taste in your mouth
the Gnawer looks like he was chewing on something rotten
he doesn't like her
and it shows"Charming..... but I'd expect better insults from her kind, best she could come up with was that I reeked of a tainted Get."
those eyes slide over
you can bet she meant you
makes one wonder
we all know the city taints us; the slums, the apathy, the anger, the smog, the desctruction, the vibe that hums here and coats us like oil tarnishing fur, clumping and coating it until all are lefts are itching, burning matts
i've got it
she's got it
wonder why she thought to point it out in you like it was something special
then his eyes drift back to what constellations he could see from here"She asked me for a light. We hit it off from there."
I won't back down.
especially.
not.
from youdoes it show he doesn't like her, yet?
"Apparently she thinks enough of this supposed board up my ass that acts as a suppository for delusions of grandeur that she keeps coming back around."
(laz)
(Dude, Somedays she could make the devil himself look good.)Things to do.
Things to do.She'd been busy these days, real busy and standing outside the motel she pauses briefly and as a bus turns she grabs onto the back and head twisting around its side watches the streets fly past.
Evetually She jumps off of Willoughby street and resecuring the Guitar at her back moves towards a certain club she stakes a few nights back. Did HE know he was being stalked, she's cautious just the same.
(sbd)
As the door at the bottom of the sixth floor leading into the fence in area starts to almost fall completely closed a hand, pale against the metal, wraps fingers around the edge and it is pushed open again to allow him exit into the good Doctor's destination.Save for who he was and whom he exited the building after, he could have been just another motel patron going for a late night walk. He pauses as the door closes behind him, unmoving, as if waiting before sliding his hands back into the black longcoat's pockets when the door gives an audible 'click'.
Then he proceeds to move in the dirction that Imogen herself was walking in. Casual. Calm. Easy, breezy.
(decker)
Decker whirls on James, squinting, scowling, incredulous. "Bitch called me tainted?" That's it. They were going to have issues. Repeated, an extra stress flipping it on its head, "Bitch called me tainted?"He'd say more - or rather, perhaps he'd charge after Lazarus and settle it the only way he knew how - but the clang from six floors above catches his attention. Craning his neck to look up, the set of his shoulders relaxes. There she is. He was starting to get (ready to break some shit) a little bit concerned.
Then - tension, again. Holding the phone absently out to James, he points his chin at the youth following Imogen. "Guy I told you about."
Soon as James has the phone, Decker starts toward the stairs
(judah)
I believe in people lying…
I believe in people dying…
I believe in people trying…
I believe in people crying…The music is somewhat gothic, and would almost seem generic and plastic if it weren't for the underlying meaning beneath the lyrics. There is but one window in the front of the building, which sits neatly on the corner of the block, and the glass is black. The door is large, black, with one singular peephole.
Closer closer and closer and still … etched neatly into the Onyx seeming glass are hieroglyphs…and Arabic words in a such a way that you can only see them if the light hits them just …so….
..it could make you dizzy just looking at.
(james)
he's amazingly calm face with the whirl
that settled that, now didn't it
shrugging muscle
she said it, man, I didn'tand while the Fenrir jumps up (to the rescue!) and heads towards the stairs
the Gnawer remains where he is
relaxed
at ease
rid of the damned Lord
finally shifting to the point that he's sitting up, crosslegged, idly unwrapping the (bloody, torn, smashed) rags from around his handsoh yea, he's keeping an eye on his packmate..... and this graceful fellow
(rune)
Five minutes, ten minutes later - the familiar purr of the Z3 in the lot. The finish shines from a recent waxing, and the leather interior - recently reupholstered by the local dealer - smells rich and fresh and new, untainted by the smoke that has wreathed itself through her hair, settled amongst her clothes, become the ashy undertone to her personal scent.The car door not-quite-slammed shut, the familiar clatter of heels on asphalt, the usual. Dark hair swings down and across the high curve of pale cheeks, dark eyes flicker contemptuously over the ugly, post-industrial sprawl, the inevitably boxy interstate architecture of the cheap motel. The brief tug of awareness draws her attention, and she stalks past the lobby with a spare glance for the shag carpet and avocado walls - 70s chic, classy - and no more.
The gate clatters open. Rune stalks in and crouches - precariously on her heels - a few feet from James, holding out a bored hand for her cell.
(laz)
Shiver.
('You run from what you fear.')
True'er words were never writtenThe delicate wire rims of her spectacles glint as she stares at the (dizzying) door. Small hands tighten about the strap that stetches across the front of her upperbody. They say hesitation is the mark of the weak--
no wonder they're a dying breed.
(imogen)
"Look who I found," noted dully as she glances over her shoulder where Sebastian still follows.A hand drags through her hair, dark eyes flickering toward Rune as before starting to walk toward the gate, and the parking lot beyond.
ooc : Err.. .Okay. (sighs)"... dark eyes flickering toward Rune, before she starts to walk past the gathered Garou and toward the gate. The parking lot beyond."
(sbd)
...watch me, watch you...Silence. A stillness surrounds him like a blanket as he crosses the fenced area, following in Imogen's footsteps, but two meters behind.
(decker)
Decker to the rescue? Well, it could be worse. Could be kicking down the bathroom door and ripping the curtain off its hoops to expose an imaginary Asher. He grunts as she passes him, barely flicking a glance at her before his attention lances toward Sebastian.Pretty boy. Decker didn't happen to like pretty boys (hittin' on his woman!? - ahem.); Decker didn't happen to like most everyone. He starts back a step or two, but his eyes - grey, hard - don't leave the longhaired youth as he passes the Modi, following Imogen.
He doesn't say anything in the end. Just turns on his heel and, with a silent nod up for Rune, follows the leader.
Imogen, Sebastian, Decker. This oughta be good.
(juadh)
…protect thee with this flame. I force thy foe away from the valley of the tomb. I cast the sand about thy feet. I embrace Seline, whose word is truth, in peace…Over and over and over those words repeat themselves, etched on the black window like a skipping record. Their meaning hidden to only those familiar with the Arabic dialect.
The music smacks Lazarus in the face, and it opens freely….no one greets her…or rushes to halt her progress….but the grandeur inside….
Oh sweet mother…
(james)
it's not until one hand is unbound
ripped fabric tossed dropped into a pile in his lap
knuckles flexed
those healed nicely
then he reaches to hold the little virginal phone to the crouching Garou"Evening Rune."
look! we didn't break it!
moving to unwrap the other hand
watching Imogen float on by
then back to pretty boy over there
as he floats on past
oh, and Decker toofried rat
those eyes glance to Rune
holding a moment
might as well join the fun
a bit of a smile beneath the dreadlock frame"Hey, excuse me, sir?"
obviously not calling out after Imogen
and obviously not referring to Decker
yep, must be the clean one(sbd)
He pauses one meter to one side of Decker, ceasing his following gait of the good Doctor Slaughter. Dark, long-lashed eyes are on the back of Imogen's head as she leaves the scene, but it is obvious he speaks for Decker's ears."I have no interest in that manner in the good doctor."
If you have seen heated jealousy inspiring anger once, you have seen it a thousand times.
(laz)
And the line of her form disappears into the darkness within. Just another opening club (Jersey's been in a boom after 9/11.) Why wouldn't the sleek female go inside? Perhaps it was chance, certain coincidence that she would pick this place, this time--Course in WOD there's no such thing as coincidences.
(decker)
Sebastian stops. So does Decker.
Both of them, so contrasted - one so slim and graceful, the other brooding, powerful at the shoulder and lean at the hip - look after Imogen for the space of a second. Five.Then, slow and lazy, Decker turns. Strolls over to Sebastian. A meter becomes half, becomes thirty centimeters, becomes ten. The Modi is close enough that his rage makes it difficult to breathe - that is...if Sebastian breathed; that it lights each inhale on fire.
The youth can look where he pleases. The Modi looks at him.
And his eyes burn. like. coals."Don't be interested at all."
(judah)
What is that she's walking on? Grainy…odd…looking beneath her feet she'd see that the concrete floor is littered with a dusting of fine sand. The entirety of the club is done with an Egyptian motif….A huge, sleek Anubis stands tall in one corner of the dark club. It's skin is so dark…so..smooth…it seems far too lovely to not be…real?
There are perhaps 8 girls at a table, all lovely in their own right, speaking to a man that must be the manager…but it's not who Lazarus seeks…no…he's…
"…I wondered…when you might actually come in…"
The lights are soft…like fading sunlight…and they cast odd shifting shadows over his nicely sculpted face. The music is so loud…she might not have heard him had he not whispered so close and so…firmly…near her ear.
(sbd)
"In all actuality, it's you I'm interested in."He hardly looks intimidated, as one might expect considering the size different between the two - no doubt in both height, build and weight. His calm demeanor is almost like a wet blanket thrown over the fun of being angry and threatening. Water over stone.
Although, it was disturbing enough - his words to the larger male. Effeminate, gothic almost... hell, could he by gay?
(imogen)
This is beyond absurd.James speaks to Sabastian, and Sebastian speaks to Decker. She turns at the gate, hand resting on the top-most bar. Decker stands off with the effeminate freak.
(decker)
Just silence. Cold silence.He doesn't move away, though. Must be waiting for Sebastian to elaborate.
(james)
okay, ignored is one thingbut growing up in the city
one becomes used to its sounds
and how to hear over them
so past the cars in the road
past the trains far off in the distance
past the incessant buzz of electricity
he hears something"In all actuality, it's you I'm interested in."
considering Decker
and their luck
that's wrong six ways from Sunday
another glance to Rune
this actually gets the lanky raggedyman to stand up
casually strolling up to Decker's side
casually unwrapping the other hand
rebar clinks in its sling(rune)
"Evenin'" - brief, the greeting. Pale fingers curve protectively over the slim plastic phone, and she slips it into her back pocket as she rises easily from her crouch. Two steps back, and she's leaning against the retaining wall. Rune's gaze shifts over the back of the motel - the security camera mounted at the entrance to the stairs, the flood lights spilling over the pool, which steams in the chill air, creating its own chlorine-tainted fog.(sbd)
"Curiosity binds people together as the strangest bedfellows."A very faint, almost sad smile with his head tilted upwards to look at Decker, face to face. If he hadn't had such a soft, nuetral tone to his voice, that would have sounded stranger than it already did coming from his delicately thin lips.
(laz)
"Confidence."Her chin lifts a bit as the breathe of his voice lingers against the collar of her swear shirt. She didn't have to look to know he would be impeccably dressed, egyptian cotton, purest silk--sharp contrast to her unmarked grey hoodie and the drawstring pants that hung from her form. (Oh, she never failed to unimpress.)
Her head twist to that ear is at most effective angle--though she does not turn towards him.
"--do you also know why I came?"
(..keep your wits about you, girl.)(decker)
"I don't got time fer yer riddles," the words are low, nearly a growl, "and don't ignore my friend when he's speakin' to you."That would be James. And that fixed things nicely, didn't it? Turning away, Decker follows Imogen out to her car, and doesn't look back.
(imogen)
Decker starts to walk toward the gate and her again, and she turns, pushing the gate open and walking out to the SUV, wordless. A chirp of an alarm, a click of locks, and she slides inside. As Decker gets in the passenger side, she turns the key in the ignition, starting the vehicle.(sbd)
A dark eyebrow arches at Decker's reply and he bows his head in a courtly manner of bygone millenium, stepping out of the way of the other young man. He turns slowly in a half cirlce without taking a step to either side, merely a pivot on one booted foot. His longcoat flares around his legs, then settles again. He raises a fine-boned, pale hand and smoothes several long wisps of raven hair back from his face."My apologies."
This was now obviously directed to James as he spreads his hands out on either side of him, giving the dread-locked youth a half-bow from the waist.
(judah)
A dark eyebrow arches at Decker's reply and he bows his head in a courtly manner of bygone millenium, stepping out of the way of the other young man. He turns slowly in a half cirlce without taking a step to either side, merely a pivot on one booted foot. His longcoat flares around his legs, then settles again. He raises a fine-boned, pale hand and smoothes several long wisps of raven hair back from his face."My apologies."
This was now obviously directed to James as he spreads his hands out on either side of him, giving the dread-locked youth a half-bow from the waist.
(james)
a brow lifts
half bow
cute.two men
one with whisped raven locks - one with ragged light brown dreadlocks
one with crisply flared black coat - one with pathwork tatters barely threaded together
one with fine hands, delicate and pale - the other with knuckles busted open from boxing
one effeminate, clean, and proper - one rugged, brawly.... yet manneredif Decker and Sebastian were a standing contradiction, we've now moved right on into a comedy of errors
"No worries, I understand you were preoccupied."
smiled, easy, even warm
"You're the one that knew about the rats, aren't you."
(judah)
Decker starts to walk toward the gate and her again, and she turns, pushing the gate open and walking out to the SUV, wordless. A chirp of an alarm, a click of locks, and she slides inside. As Decker gets in the passenger side, she turns the key in the ignition, starting the vehicle.(laz)
She remembers.History reels behind her eyelids and moves with him (... this time does not exist; I am not me.) She shift the guitar coming down hard on his wrist though her head dips to readjust her spectacles. [You will always be ou.] Apparently unaway of the sudden thrust of musical intrument that allowed her a disconnection.
Deeper.
A person could get lost.
--and deeper still.Likely they were in the back of the club before they reach his (reserved, owner's.) table. the Guitar settled beside her as the waifish creature rubs her face with her hands and leans back against the seat. She wouldn't come to him, she wouldn't but she couldn't think of anyone better.
The urchin never settled.
(..contradiction? You have no idea.)(sbd)
"I know something of the unnatural distrubance, that is quite true."He gestures with uncanny grace towards one of the rather delapidated tables settings around the pool, raising his eyebrows in a silent query as to whether or not James wished to sit.
(judah)
One might of expected the neatly dressed dusky skinned man to wince in pain, or perhaps curse the waifish young female for her actions…Judah, however, only smiles and slips his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks.To the back table they go…and he sits once Lazarus is comfortable, his hands fold neatly on the marble table before them…exquisite.
"…to what do I owe this pleasure…?"
A brow arches and the distant sands of millennia ago are forgotten…for the nonce.
(james)
the Frankenweiler's be praised
at least he knows his ropes around the courtly
chin dropping in a nodcertainly
easily sliding into one of the chairs and waiting for Sebastian to join him before carrying on
"I'm sure it seems a question out of the blue, but, what will you tell me of it?"
inhaling deep (Lily of the Valley?)
senses on edge(sdb)
The waifish, effeminate dark young man folds himself neatly and comfortably in a chair beside James and looks at the young man with sad, lonely dark eyes encased in darker lashes and smiles with equal sadness. Waist-length raven hair slides over one shoulder like a spill of black water, shining against the matte-black of his longcoat lapel."Ask your questions and I will endeavor to answer them."
(james)
there's something in that melancholy
there's something in that sadness
there's something in that...... need....... that calls to himthat's the hard part about being a Hood
seems everyone needs something, doesn't it?"First. What will you ask in return.... and how do I know you won't mislead me?"
(laz)
"I need somesthing--"Slanting eyes flicker toward him, all the more intent behind the spectacles that seperate thier locking gaze. Nervously toung slides iver her lips and she leans forward on the table, fingers picking ar its surface even as she speaks and then back up to him.
" your help, Judah."
(rune)
Rune remains slouched against the concrete retaining wall, dark gaze settled on the pair seated beside the pool. The whole scene has the ridiculous gravity of a low-rent noir film - the seedy hotel, the concrete loops of highways in the distance, the dull orange glow of the impenetrable sub-urban sky.And the players, of course: Sebastian, an extra from a Byron biopic; James, easygoing and urban, the rebar and dreadlocks; Rune - straight out of Vogue, with a side-order of Ms. Magazine.
Bored, she allows her gaze to flicker down, and inspects her nails.
(seb)
He turns his head, the only movement coming from his remarkably still frame and his dark eyes wander towards Rune. He blinks ever so slowly, his long dark lashes fanning out across his pale cheeks, before he cants his head very slightly to one side."Do you wish for your companion to join us?"
It was the polite thing to ask; to not leave a lady standing on her own. It seemed that in some small dark places chivarly was still alive.
judah)
Dark hair that seems like implanted tendrils of perfect noire silk caress his cheek and jaw nicely as he tilts his head (cat watching a mouse..) allowing her words a moment to sink in…"…with…?"
(sdm)
He blinks again slowly, turning his face back towards James with agonizing slowness. There was no rush. Sometimes you needed to just stop and smell the roses. They had all the time in the world."Firstly, I am, in my own way, as curious as you appear to be in the phenomenon. A good mystery is something we all need, every once in awhile..."
His head tilts slightly to the other side as he contemplates the second question before another wisp of a sad smile.
"You don't, but on that same token, I could ask the very same of yourself."
(james)
oh, well, of course
he figured Rune would just invite herself in if she deemed it worthy of....
oh
.... no... that's Decker
a hand reaches out to drag a chair in silent (and sheepish) offergood one James
forget your superior
this will leave a markthough he doesn't quite move on in the conversation just yet
you just don't move on to product until you know what you're bartering with
and Gnawer knows that
doing elsewise... well... could leave a bigger mark
nodding a bit as he listens to the rest
though it brings a soft laugh"Well, considering I'll be the one asking mostly questions, I don't think there's much information I can offer that would lead you astray or otherwise, althought I understand your concern. Just like you, I'm curious."
he just knows you have to pay for knowledge
and he's wondering just how he'll have to pay for it(laz)
"Getting--"Oh, how to phrase this.
She was sure he was enjoying this. Somehow in the back of her mind she was enjoying him, enjoying himself watching her squirm--such is the way of empaths. Oh course she doesn't (squirm exactly, not quite.)twist now. Merely meets his gaze straight on. In the manner of exiled royalty--
I walk the street-I am not of the streets.
"--into a certain address, without being noticed."
(judah)
He nods slowly, his hair sits firmly in place. One finger lifts and he brushes it lazily against the fullness of his lips. Contemplation dances across his exotic features …"…for financial gain…or..?" An elbow rests on the arm of the chair he sits in, and his fingers brace his chin comfortably. "…I do not wish to know your affairs…in detail…however the purpose would be a great aide in making my decision…"
(laz)
Out of friendship would be asking too much, huh?Lips twist, and she rubs her face one more. In that brief moment she seems exhausted, where had she been, did it really matter anyway? The creature had practically shown up on his doorstep like a beggar. (..things are never as they appear..)And digging around in her pocket she switches to their native tongue--her voice making music of rarely heard syllables.
"Its regarding the missing girl posters you've seen about town."
She didn't mince words.
They both knew the value of information.(seb)
"I have questions of my own, things that have piqued my interest, if nothing else. We both have much to gain or loose, depending on the answers given."Sitting in his stillness it is unnatural. People fidget. They have unconscious little habits, twitches, movements, things that they do. People were contained energy and that energy needed to be feeded into something, even when sitting, relazed by a pool conversing with one another.
Lily of the Valley and stillness.
"I have no illusions as to what you would or would not have to offer. I ask for nothing outside your own, singular abilities, however much this may be a... group... effort on your part."
(jud)
Another nod."…tell me what it is I can do for you my Queen…" The chair creaks slightly beneath his fair weight, faint protest to the man seated upon it. His hands cross over his taught, thin stomach.
The girls are done, the conversation is ended between the man (dusky skinned…like Judah) and women…the fairer of the sex stands to go.
(run)
The shake of her head, the shift and sway of dark-stained hair over pale cheeks, the purse of blood-red (painted) lips: James' response, this strangely gentle, but quite clear no.She does shift closer. She does walk/stalk/stride/ooze closer until she is once more slouched against the retaining wall, though this time only a few feet away from them. The heels of her wicked shoes sink a millimeter or three into the muddy turf of a thin strip of brownish grass, but she doesn't bitch about it, not at all. Unusual, that. She hates mud, and grass and dirt. She loves her clothes, and her car, and all her creature comforts, but a man - lily of the valley? the scent is far too blooming sweet for her taste - is seated with her packmate, and she does not trust him, and thus she does not shift away.
(james)
stillness, so very unnatural
breaths, so. very. slow.
sort've like the original Dracula movie
so. draggingly. dramatically. slow
well.... this guy does seem to look the part
welcome, Lord Byron, to our humble abode
has Poligari writ your tome?nah.... couldn't be
must be cause Halloween's coming up
guy's getting ready early
and the Gnawer is just getting spooked"Go on. I can't guarantee anything on behalf of the group, but I'm willing to work for the payout."
he's really glad Rune is still nearby
Ahroun or not
backup is good when you're walking into what looks to be a very, very dark tunnel
and he's trying so damn hard to find the light and see the way
he'll do what it takes
(I. wont. back. down.)(laz)
"The question is.."Eyes lower as the sounds (like flutes and and the low beating of drums--the shift of the sands beneath their feet.) of lyrical words pour between them. Folded paper and a cack of ciggarettes is produced on its edge in the same fluid script as the letters printed on the door words are written.
From the number a line is drawn, with the name of a township in New Jersey. But her left hand points to the hastily scribbled address at the corner.
[420 Park Avenue: Relative?]
" ...what favors the king might whisper as well."
She's a Lord, what do you want?
"I'm not even sure this adress will pan out, or what it is I'm looking for but its the only lead I have right now--I'd prefer to go about this with as much discretion as possible. No need to call the attention of anyone--much less this one."
She indicated the phone number listed on flyer.
(seb)
"There is a little one..."His voice is soft to the ears, carressing the senses in ways that could be seen as just wrong between a man speaking to another man, but it merely seemed his way. His way of speaking to anyone he took the time to converse with for any length.
"Who was injured a night ago; turned partially, it would seem, to stone. I will ask about that night. Do you agree to this?"
(rune)
The wind rises, and with it the stink of half-rotting garbage in the dumpster behind the motel. At least it clears her senses of the cloying sweetness of the man's scent even as it clogs them with another sweetness, just as rotten.Rune opens a new pack of cigarettes and pulls back the gold foil, then selects one - the paper purple as a new-made bruise - before offering the pack around. The cigarettes are tucked so neatly together in the gold foil, marching in their bright wrappers like candy-things, hot pink and bright sunny yellow, neon green and caribbean blue.
(james)
well, it would depend on the man, wouldn't it
whatever type of man the Ahroun is
it doesn't bother himif that's your way, it's cool with me
"Yes. I was not there, but I will tell you what I can, and in exchange you tell me about the rats."
a glance to Rune
a pause in grasping the pack, but passing it along
(I'm not sure I know what I'm doing anymore, I don't know what I'm dealing with, I'm sorry if I mess things up)
(james)
"If it is a relative there must be pictures or some sign of the girl. Especially if she is -indeed- missing. Phone records, post, bills--all might be helpful."Her gaze is intent on him, flickers only briefly to the other slim shoulders only tensing fractionally. As amber hhued gaze slides to the other native, funny how how people of like descent banded together--its seemed briefly tribal.
Ciggareete let she curls into her seat relaxing at Judah's distracted attention--taking the moment to truly take in the spectacle of the club.
(seb)
"As you wish."He takes the pack from James when offered, keeping his fingers meticulously away from that of the youth with dread-locks it seems a strange contrast to the rest of his actions. Perhaps he just has issues with being touched. Some people do, you know. He removes one of carribean blue before he offers the pack graciously back to Rune with a faint inclination of his head in thanks for her offering.
"I assume that you and your companions are of the same condition as the little one?"
He looks down at the carribean blue cigarette resting horizontally in his palm of one hand and slowly closes his fingers around the the entire thing before looking back up at James and blinking ever so slowly, as if flaunting long dark lashes against his pale skin.
"To say, that is, that you are of a remarkably preternatural disposition?"
(judah)
And a spectacle it is.No expense was spared. The colours of the club are black and gold, and the tables are dark marble that come up from the floor and seem almost like altars of some sort.
There are a few centerpieces on other tables, floating candles in stone bowls of water, scarab style ashtrays. There is a stage, a DJ booth that seems like some sort of temple…somehow, Judah has managed to pull all of it off without seeming tacky…amazing.
Above them, on the ceiling, are the constellation's painted in glowing paint…glittering in the dim light. Clouds are painted in dark blues and greys and it makes the whole main area seem…open.
"…I will do what I can…" He nods, affirmative.
(laz)
Its actually, breathtaking.Her eyes close against it against the raw opulence, the slinking seduction of finery. (Where you go--these things would never follow, Laz.) Her eyes are focused on Judah now his nod calms her, for her own reasons she trusted him.
More the fool was she.
"..and your price?"(judah)
"Ah…there is that, is there not? Always a price…" He fingers the paper delicately, treating it as if it were a rare artifact of some sort. Eyes lift slowly and rest squarely on Lazarus. "…this debt we will keep between us…one day I will have need of you…"A pause. The other dusky skinned man nods to Jude and then moves up the winding staircase to the upper floor (yes…there is more..). "Do you like my…business?"
Deal made, next subject, moving along.
(james)
his head tilts
dreadlocks spilling"That would be an assumption, yes."
grinning at Rune
100% organic and na-choo-rul
Gaia's own
Eagle's chosen
you don't get much more natural than that
(seb)
He takes a slow deep breath and then blows on the flame emitted from her lighter. He shakes his head sadly from side to side, another forlorn smile touching his lips. Perhaps the sadness, now, comes from her words... or something else entirely they know nothing about."I'm fine for now, thank you, though."
He shifts his gaze back to James, with whom this conversational information was being bartered.
"I see." A pause of silence that seems to stretch an eternity. Forever is no distane at all...
"Now you may start with asking one question of your own."
(laz)
She nods.Such is the way things were done. Moving on her eyes fix on his image as if feasting on the symmetrical lines of his face, drinking in the dusky hues of his skin. Another drag of the stog and it is ashed almost lazily as she leans back.
"Its lovely..but you already know this."
(james)
he just watches
genuinely curious about this strange, mysterious man
maybe it shows, in some ways, how young he really is
so very carefully choosing his question to make it counthe has been granted the time and attention, he is not going to waste it
"You had said to someone that something did not want the rats looking around.... why are they being driven away?"
(jud)
"I…like it.." He smiles beautifully a Cheshire cat grin, and taps a finger quite lazily on the arm of the chair. "…have you found a place to live yet…?" Ever the curious one, Judah now settles for staring quite openly at Lazarus, which is entertaining none the less.(rune)
Brows arch - amused - in James' direction, and her shoulders rise and fall in an eloquent shrug. Smooth as silk, the motion, easy as cherry pie, and ripe with apparent unconcern.Her hand slides back into her pocket, stowing the still-warm lighter beneath the folded leather, then reemerges.
Dark eyes - jaded and brittle, such sharp contrast to James' eager youth - settle again on Sebastian, and remain. Somehow that look does not feel heavy - at all. Somehow that glance seems light as a feather.
(seb)
"Because he who has the secrets has the power to make it so."He lifts a hand from his hand and runs it through a slither of raven hair, his fingers sliding through it like they traversed through a gathering of live shadows.
(laz)
She chuckles.
(...did heaven ring with her laughter--it should.)"Does the devil offer safe haven?"
Something in her voice, not quite believing those words. (Hers or His it is unclear..)What is clear is that his direct gaze DOES in fact make her uncomfortable in the same ways it always did--another slow drag of the ciggarette and she examines the ashtray instead. Fingers slide ofver the lines of the scarab.
(james)
there's.... soft chuckle
this guy is as forthcoming as Lazarus
little more specific this time
and let's see if we can get past two questions"Seems reason enough."
the ball back in Sebastian's court
(web)
"What manner of creature caused the remarkably psuedo-Medusa effect on the little one?"The stillness clung to him like a second skin, completely at odds with the small movement, small gestures of his two conversation partners.
(rune)
Slouched as she is, it's hard to tell that Rune is suddenly two and a half inches shorter: 5'10" instead of six feet plus.It's true, though: she's slipped her feet from the torturous Mahnolo Blahniks, and her toes are sinking into the browning turf. (They probably hurt her feet, nothing more. Nothing more.)
Another question - she shorts, smoke spilling from her nostrils. The two strands join together, and the gray cloud joins the offwhite chlorine fog rolling from the gleaming blue pool. Her eyes stray from the pair and wander over the dull structure of the motel, searching for prying eyes, others, allies, friends, fiends - and settle again on the little camera feeding the scene back into the lobby, judging the distance.
Close enough, she thinks, and shifts her attention back to Sebastian, back to James. Her brows - plucked into a fine, attractive arch - rise briefly in silent communication. Her patience is running out.
(james)
a moment of thought
searching for the simplest of terms"A pattern spider."
he catches the tiny, immaculate sound
glancing up
he knows, dammit, he knows
but he has to play this game so very carefully"For what reason does he who has the secrets and power to make it so drive away the rats, what is he preventing them from finding?"
(seb)
"I do not know what he is hiding, I am merely aware that there is most definately something there to be hidden."He seems to either not notice the change in Rune's temprement or he is unconcerned with it. At best, now, she is excluded from the conversation. A mere bystander watching as the world dances its intricate little pattern before her eyes.
(seb)
He's left a long silence between his answer and his question. Where there was nothing but the sounds of the night mingled with that of their breathing."And what manner of creature is this pattern spider?"
(rune)
One more drag, another glance. The camera stops. Dead. The film putters out, the battery dies, the connection fizzles - something. Does it matter?The flicker of pale fingers, casual, and the still smoldering cigarette tumbles end over end over end. With all that long, black hair, it's hard to imagine how it misses (barely) setting Sebastian ablaze.
"An arachnid: an eight-legged creature that spins webs," Rune replies from just beyond them. "I'm sure you've heard of them. Some people have phobias, but you don't seem like the type.
"My turn. Who is the person you're babbling about without mentioning, like some second-rate sphinx?" And the other question, unspoken but still vibrant in the air: why shouldn't I just kill you now?
Full-blooded full-moons. It all comes down to violence in the end.
(james)
oh good, we've made it to three, now
well.... we had made it to three
and once Rune steps in
James shuts downshe's his superior
and the Gnawer quiets
wondering in a way
has he only lost his turn
or did they lose the game when he was just starting to get the hang of the rules(seb)
For all the world he seems to ignore Rune's pithy commentary and questions, his dark, dark eyes remaining solely on James as if he was the only one that existed, here and now, in this conversation. After all, the agreement of questions and answers had been only between himself and James. No one else.He did, however, break the stillness of his perching to lift one slender hand and brush several specks of ash, loosened from the cigarette sent spiralling, from his hair.
And he just waits for James to answer.
(rune)
(james)
"It's....."a heartbeat flashes
she questions, he should wait until her question is answered
but he knows her question won't be answered
and who's wrath will be worse
man he feels like he's speaking out of line and turn
but does it anyway".... it's a spider that inhabits the spirit world. I don't know very much else about them."
again, the deflected glance
Rune
Sebastian
and...... oddly..... down
think James think"Even though you do not know what is is that he who has the power and secrets to do so hides, what is the reason he chooses to hide it from us so that we will not find it?"
(seb)
"I am under the impression from my observation of the phenomena, that the actions of this person are not specifically directed at yourselves, as people, but other less open targets. You have merely unwittingly stumbled upon his secret adn therefore have the oppotunity to unveil that secret should you so choose."Stillness, silence, a pause before he asks his own question.
"Will the little one return to full health, given time?"
(james)
"Yes."there's a slow nod
thoughtfully nibbling his lower lip
a glance begging Rune for more time
dead.... whatever he is.... is a useless whatever he is"If we so choose to take the opportunity to unveil his secret, what are the less open targets he has chosen to direct his actions towards?"
(seb)
"He dislikes the prying eyes of the sewers; it is those shadows that he wishes to keep at bay."He again lifts a hand to slide tendrils of dark hair out of his eyes as he gazes unnervingly, unwaveringly at James.
"Dr. Slaughter is not of the same condition as yourself, but she is aware and in someway tied to it?"
(james)
"Dr. Slaughter does not fall within the specifications you set forth within the original bargain perameters and it is not my place to answer personal questions about her. You may ask her those yourself."he's getting the hang of it
"What is the reason he dislikes the prying eyes of the sewers?"
(decker)
...and the silver SUV, a few hours after it left, returns to the motel parking lot. The night is wearing on; it's past 1am. For the first time tonight, at least.The drive back was, as usual, quiet. Each lost in their own thoughts, impenetrable and non-intersecting bubbles of silence surrounded them.
The lights of the parking lot glint off the hood of the SUV as she pulls into a space. In this glow, the color of the car is closer to ochre, and so is the color of their skin. Just before he gets out, he comments, "Murph was yer tribesmate, too."
Given the state of the man, it didn't seem to matter that much. Yet, anyway.
(seb)
"They steal his secrets, keeping them for themselves."He pauses again, perhaps now only to annoy Rune, but he has done it every time in the past before asking his question.
"The little one is priviledged to have access to regenerative abilities, so as to heal the damage inflicted upon her?"
(james)
"Of course, all living beings have regenerative abilities, it's basic cell structure and performance."smiled
he knows his biology"What is the true name of he, that the rats steal the secrets from to keep for themselves?"
(imo)
Her fingers raise to press against the bridge of her nose as if to relieve a headache, as she nods slightly, acknowledging Decker's statement before turning and exiting the SUV, closing the door behind her with a thunk. A click of locks, a chirp of an alarm, and she shoves the keys back into her pocket, "S'what I thought," was afraid of, perhaps. Though any chance of her being able to hide from the Garou Nation has gone to pot, unless she moves, still, it seems, avoiding her tribe is important.A cigarette pack is pulled from her jacket pocket and a cancer stick tapped out, along with a lighter. Flame flickers as she thumbs the wheel, setting the cigarette between her lips and lighting up. Everything replaced into the pockets of her jacket, half turning to look at where the trio are by the pool exactly where they'd been a few hours before.
(seb)
"Of that you would need to ask the holder of that true name, for that is something I am not privy to."His head turns ever so slowly to look at the SUV across the long way as it pulls into the motel's parking lot. Just as slowly he lokos back to James and continues this game of questions and answers.
"You answered true to my last question and from there I will elaborate; does she pocess the ability to recuperate from the injuries inflicted by the pattern spider in a manner that would be considered miraculous to those who were actually of full human parenatge?"
(decker)
Decker's gaze follows Imogen's to his two packmates...and Sebastian. Wonderful. Just wonderful.The thuggish Modi tugs his shirt down in the back, where it had ridden up during the drive. "Must be some conversation," he comments, low, "keep 'em talkin' that long." Then, hands in his pockets, he motions at her cigarette with an elbow. "Bum one?"
(imogen)
She keeps the cigarette between her lips as she reaches into her jacket pocket again and pulls out the packet, offering it to him. "He was askin' me about what happened last night," speaking around the fag, voice low as his. "Curious little fucker."(james)
"I do not know, her recovery exsists in the present, it did not happen that night."a pause
once more
carefully phrasing"Where will I find the holder of that true name, the one the rats steal the secrets from and keep for themselves?"
(decker)
He takes the cigarette out of her hand with his teeth, grunts a thanks, feels around for his matches while he walks toward the low, swinging gate to the pool. Takes his time. Halfway there he finds his matchbox and shakes one out - oldfashioned types, strike anywhere. He liked 'em better like that."Yeah?" Frowning. "Gettin' just a l'il sick of him pokin' his pretty nose around my pack's shit."
No one would call Decker graceful, but the easy, lazy gesture with which he strikes the match on the bottom of his shoe is close to that. Standing still, he lights up, shakes the match out, drops it, and doesn't move forward just yet.
"What'd he ask you, 'zactly?"
(seb)
"He is where ever he chooses to be. I am no man's keeper."His lips turn slowly into something akin to a smile again and he tilts his head to one side, raising an eyebrow at James. He seems to be contemplating the other youth for some time before he speaks again.
"Her recovery started last night, as stated by the man who bore her away to the wild place, therefore does not make question redundant and outside of the parameters of our agreement."
(imo)
She exhales grey smoke half turning her head away before turning back to look at him, answering his question. "Asked me how Nova was doing. Whether or not she'd be okay. He said he was interested in what happened last night."She taps ash onto the cement, "He seemed t'know that you aren't human. Asked me if I had the same 'condition'," a slight tone change, she's using his words, "as everyone else."
(james)
his head shakes"I told you, I was not there that night, so that would be something I am not aware of. You would have to ask the man who bore her away.
Where does he, the one who has the power and secrets to make it so, choose to be.... currently?"
(decker)
Decker looks away from Imogen now, frowning in the direction of the three by the pool. The parking lot's lights give him an unnatural glow, sheening his skin in orange, picking out the close-mowed hair - a little longer these days, given his lack of access to an electric razor - in amber. He'd shaved in the morning, but the motel's razor was less than perfect, and anyway the long day was catching up to him. A bristle shades his solid jaw, and the hollow under his lower lip."You tell 'im anythin'?" he asks, not that he expected her to be quite that foolish. The cigarette bobs between his lips as he speaks, burning ashes drifting down to the asphalt like so many falling stars.
(imogen)
For the most part, she'd been watching the trio by the pool, smoking quietly, but as the question is asked, her attention flickers over to the Fenrir, looking at him for a moment. "No." She answers after a moment, "I said I didn't know what he was talkin' about. Then I came out 'ere and he followed."The halogen lights of the parking lot cast dark shadows across her features, pocketing her eyes in black, casting her fine white skin in a pale jaundice. Even vibrant hair, a thousand colours of red shades toward orange in this light.
(seb)
He gets a thoughtful look and lifts his gaze upwards towards the sky and seems to be regarding the pass of stars and clouds overhead."Currently I know not where he chooses to be. Although, for no cost to yourself or I, I do not suggest you brashenly seek him out. What is the name of the little one that was injured by the pattern spider?"
(decker)
Old habits die hard: taking the cigarette between thumb and forefinger like a joint, he pulls off a drag, ashes. "Yeah, all right." Cigarette replaced with a faint cough; the smoke was smoother than marijuana, but he wasn't a fan of the taste, and the lulling effect wasn't nearly so powerful. "Don't tell 'im nothin'. Dunno what he is, but don't think he's one o' us."He says it so easily: us. She knows that 'us' would never fully include her. She'd always be the one to protect in a fight, and the one to protect them when the eye of unsuspecting mortals begins to turn their way. Different worlds, different tasks, barely touching.
Maybe the silences between them, the distances, aren't so strange after all. Rubbing a hand back over his hair, the Modi starts forward again.
(james)
he watches the lift of eyes skyward
how apropos..."Star."
and thus the Gnawer quiets
recounting the conversation
word by word
play by play
each dodge and counter"Since you are unable to answer my questions about the one who has the secrets and power, nor do you know what he is choosing to hide from the rats......."
pausing again
before warm brown eyes lift".... where is what is being hidden from the rats?"
(imo)
"He called it a condition, Rohl. He is not one o' you." She says with a degree of absolute certainty. Some kinfolk grow up with an us and them syndrome. Other kinfolk try and join in, and become simply 'us'. For Imogen, it seems, there is only them."Won't breathe a word." Exhaling cigarette smoke as he moves to walk past her, she stays standing where she is for the moment, smoking the cigarette slowly.
(seb)
"As above... so below."He finally has something of a smile that no longer looks so sad, but as if he is strangely pleased with James and the turn of conversation. As if James did something impressive in his own right, by his own wits.
He peers down at the ground near his feet for a long moment, leaning forward in his chair so that his hair slides forward over his shoudlers. He then looks back up at James with dark eyes through a veil of shadow hair.
"This question is outside of the agreed parameters, but I doubt it will be of such a... sensitive... nature that you should find it difficult to answer."
He raises his hand and pulls back the curtain of his own hair, as if slowly exposing himself to the other young man.
"Your name? Or something, perhaps, if you are that wary of me, by which to call you."
(decker)
So, alone, he moves to the gate. It opens easily enough, though the hinges squeal softly and announce his presence - as if the rolling shockwave of rage didn't. Ten feet away and the edge of that invisible sphere reaches them, raising hairs, setting nerves on edge. His grey eyes flicker between the three, and then to the tip of his cigarette, which he ashes again.Moving beside Rune silently and without thought - packmates - he's also coincidentally behind Sebastian. He listens to the proceedings, his eye wandering over the leaves floating on the surface of the pool, and then up to count how many windows still had their lights on.
(seb)
Sebastian slowly rises from his seat beside James, turning on one foot to regards Decker and Rune, but more specifically Decker. He gestures to the seat he just vacated, with all the manners of someone who was raised to be polite."Did you wish to join us?"
He pulls the chair a little further out in case Decker ascents before he pulls out another on the other side of James and takes a seat again. Coincidentally, this also means that Decker is no longer behind him. This... pack... was not the only cautious people to walk the night streets.
(james)
the Gnawer's head tilts
it's pure lupine curiosity
watching the change come over the mystery manwondering what in the world his last answer meant
there's a part of him that should probably shy away from the man (creature?) being so close
though there is something fascinating about him
he knows he has never seen something like this before
even if he isn't totally sure what is is"They call me Jukebox."
for what he is, that very would could be his name
"What is as above, it is below?"
(imo)
From outside the bubble, and just outside hearing range of normal conversation, she leans against the car, slowly smoking the cigarette to the filter.(deckler)
Decker cracks one of his little smirks, a curve of lip that might as well be a sneer for all the reassurance it gave. "Naw," he drawls, moving around behind Sebastian again with such deliberation that it'd be clear he was doing it on purpose even if his words didn't make it so, "like the back of yer head more'n yer face."The chair grates and clangs along the concrete noisily enough to wake the first floor residents. Spinning it into place, Decker drops down behind Sebastian, both feet on the ground, wide apart. Easily balanced, should he rise suddenly.
(rune)
Rune flickers a brief glance toward Decker, then looks back to James and Sebastian.The gate, the stairs, the pool. Her bare toes sink another millimeter into the tiny strip of brown turf as she shifts her weight forward, rising faintly from her slouch.
(seb)
"Yes."Now that he has reseated himself he appears to return the conversation to James as if he was the only one apart of it. After all, he'd made it obvious prior to this that what was said was done James and himself. That was the bargain they had struck for this exhcange of elusive information.
"I am Bastian. It is a pleasure to make your acquiantane, Jukebox." There are some nicities of society that should never be allowed to go out of vogue.
(james)
"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Bastian."well
that's it
he's confused again
he's sure somewhere along the way this one thanked him too
for cryin' out loudhe'd look to Decker and Rune for help
but he knows they'd rather eat this strange, strange creature
there's a desperation edging him
deep beneath that cool thesad
deep in those warm brown eyeshe knows he won't have another chance for this
not if they get their waysoftly
"Bastion..... will you..... show me where the secrets are kept?"
(seb)
"I can, however, I would feel infinately more comfortable if your companions did not make their hostile intentions so obviously close to my person."He isn't blind, for all he seems to be ignoring Decker and RUne in favor of the conversation. He isn't stupid either. He knows what is running through their heads and it wasn't at all productive for his continued wellbeing... And perhaps not theirs, either.
(james)
there's a nod
and he just looks to them
silentso far, it's the only lead they have
for whatever it ends up being worth
for whatever it ends up solving
if he's wrong for following it they can tell his sad story or forget about him completely
he's willing to take the chance
Nova and Siophan got messed up because they didn't know what they were up against
here's his opportunity to find out more
(to earn his place back once again)but....he can't ask them to stand down from their intentions
they both outrank himand how much is he going to pay for it regardless of the outcome
(imo)
The cigarette is crushed beneath a boot heel, eyes turned toward the trio once more. Sabastien can feel their rather unhealthy interest in him; a sort of secondary instinct (maybe she can just see it in the way they're standing) has brought her to the same conclusion.(decker)
Decker's lips thin. He looks between the longhaired youth and James, back and forth. At last - a nod, ever so slight, and upwards as always.They were Eagle's Chosen. For that, he had some measure of trust.
(james)
his chin drops
just as imperceptibly
submission
thanks
trust"Allright, Bastion. You got your answer. Now show me."
(seb)
"As you desire."He stands, brushing his hands down the front of his coat and gestures for them to proceed towards the parking lot.
(seb)
Upon reaching the parking lot he turns to James with tired eyes and a faintly sad smile again."I will meet you where the rats dare not go tomorrow eve and I'll show you where the secrets hide, as you so desire."
At whatever the cost, apparently.
Posted by james at 12:00 AM.10.26.02. - hit it off [lazarus-gaby](gaby jones)
Ahhh freedom a deep breath of fresh air...city stench...mmmmm
She walks out from the back door as it slams behind her
Hands move into her pockets as she moves up the ol street.
Hair scraggley framing her face...she looks the same
on the outside
Converse high tops on her feet. her big toe starting to peek through the faded canvas, but not quite yet... baggy jeans hanging off her hips...a tight green t-shirt which reads ~STAFF~ on the front of it. like a t-shirt from an Event...on the back it says Infection but the denim jacket covers the punchline.Pulling out a smoke...she lights it up...back to life, back to reality
Back to the pool hall..back to the sanity...
she hated the sanity she had left..
[i will not let you down]
The smirk crosses her lips as she pulls from the cigarette...19, free and on the street..and broke
Time to make the donuts..
pool hall...time to hustle some dough(lazarus)
Nickel and Dime.
(Water and Wine.)Her head is cradled under a woolen cap, where the delicate wire frames of small spectacles hige thier arms which reach round her ears. She's positioned on the bench of a bustop a guitar played with more talent than skill, under sliding fingers. Gold-kissed features shine bonze under the orangey' cast light of flickering streetlamps...
Its the voice.
(Damn her.)Its siren call wrapping threads of sound about the street, nigh palpable pulsing and evanescent as the foggy breath of autumn. [Sing a song of winter--that my future told.] Turns heads and pockets unto the opened guitar case beside her, its mouth yawning poverty. [Sing a song of mourning--about the souls they've sold] Those singers minister on metallic strings, they preach and beckon, the burn and scald.
Look away.
(Can you?)(james)
another day
another night
another place to sleep
another wake up call that came entirely too earlyhe had checked in, breifly, with Decker and the others
sorta
more like he left a message at the motel and they haven't called back yet
cause he still had Rune's cell
(with very .low. batteries.)second hand Cochrans beat a strange tattoo on the shaped cement
the raggedyman tribesman transversing concrete jungle trails
dreads flop over the shoulders of patchwork trench dipping down to tattered ends around his ankles
it's gettin Brisk, baby(gaby)
And she walks...passing byt the old steps up to the old apartement..
what ever happened to that place She had just left it...She doesnt give it a second glance...a she walks...pulling the last of the smoke from the cigarette and flicking the butt to the curb..Wonder what happened to Eddie, she would need to hook up, get some smoke...
had to make some money first..pool hall
The place looked the same, smelled the same..was the same..
same shit different day
And as she walks she just glances around at the few people that are scattered around-----eyes stop on the singer
"Well holy shit"
she smirks..thought that girl had gone off to join the gang world..last time she saw her she was actin all weird
She stands there, and leans up against the wall...not too far..
merely watching
Pulling out another smoke and lighting it up...(laz)
'Manda's on the pavement
thinking bout the government
I'm in the basement
mizin up the medicine--city senses ain't like country senses--did you know? Takes a whole differnt set of lungs to breath city air, a whole differnt set of eyes to understand city sights. A whole differnt state of mind to understand--fuck, some of us NEVER understand.(I'm talking 'bout acceptance--you UNDERSTAND too well.)Its her playing the magick of musicial notes that stretch and distend like the muscled motions of beating urban (..but NEVER urbane.) heart.
man in trenchcoat
badge out, laid off
Says he has a bad cough
..wants to get paid off."I never knew yuo, you never knew me-- say hello, Goodbye."
Is she singing to gaby, Nah. Lazraus just vibes off the emotions in the air. --its how she gets paid.
(james)
there's something about when you're a street musician that grabs at you when you hear someone else pouring their soul out for pennies or quarters or and other nugget of spare change from the hands of the holy and employed
conventionally employed, anyway
and it's her voice
even though he could have gone the rest of his life without hearing it again and been very damned content and happy and even fulfilled
he has to admitit's nice
and it makes him stop
muscular shoulder leaning against another wall
just like Missy - not too far, and definitely not too close
merely watching
drumsticks rattling in their sling over his backlet's see whatcha got, Lordling
(missy)
aint that the truth
and some people..ya just had that unspoken agreement with..that unspoken law
dont ask i wont tell, dont mess with me, i wont mess back
Give me no reason to ask and i wont.
Sometimes that doesnt work, but for her and Laz...it always had..
everyone for themselves in this jungle but these 2, as much as they didnt talk..it was the reason they never hated each other..
an understanding...sort of..unwritten rule
Could that ever change..sure..but so far..so good so what
And so she pushes off the wall...and moves towards the girl..
No money in her pocket, she cant very well drop any into the case..
So she stands there...
awaiting the song to end(laz)
More than most Lazarus understands emotions, its her stock and trade well that and.. secrets. (Read: Information merchant.)Fingers cast silken siders webs of sounds that stretch and catch apon eager ears long only for the next note. For the moment the street is transformed, it is raw emotion and watercolor paints, it its pastel hued greys... the world she creates is one of longing.--one that can almost be heard even as the song fades, that slanting (Never. Trust. An. Arab.) be-spectacled gaze flickering to the presence on her left--I know you.
"Ain't seen your face in a while.."
(james)
well hello there
his head tilts, watching the new girl with dark hair just walk up to stand infront of Lazarus
but he doesn't much move yet
no.... not yet
still just watching
waiting
learningthough a part of him pities the song ended
(missy)
Emotions are a strange thing..when you dont really have them...
a misture of feeling free sadness and anger mixed with lonelyniess and longing...while in there also is a feeling of a pack and togetherness, a smorgasborg of emotions all twisted together in her head...
happiness..but not cheerful happy..evil inside, but no less evil then she had ever been
it wa her fate
and the masks she wears are almost flawless(laz)
Her eyes flicker over the girl thoughtfully even as fingers still dance against the strings, albeit lightly, almost absently. Its background music but it twist with an inquisitive edge, the notes seeming to quest through air for something hat is (at most) undefined."Caught the trail of something bad, been lying low a bit."
Does she siver--never. But the music takes on a more shrill cant. If you listened close enough it might almost be scary. She looks down at the guitar and stops playing her hand moving to adjust her spectacles instead.
"Hanging with a new crew or somethin?--ya look differnt."
(missy)
She nods..."yeah..fuck these fuckers" and that she meant..
"was sick of the bullshit..."
funny when ya throw the truth in there once in a while
"But its still me and me...thats the only one i really hang with" she glances to the guy who seems to be watching
and clears her throat a bit eyes wandering to him..
you know himShe pulls out a smoke and lights it with an old pack of matches...holding the pack to Laz..
"Smoke?"(hematite)
she is in the alley. (What alley doesn't matter. All that does is that it is empty. Was empty. Is a mirror-glass that doesn't reflect. ...How long ago the alley was filled is another question all together. How long it took pushing against the membrane between words until reborn rehatched risen and wet from her efforts she is. Again. Alive.)Hematite
[ blood. stone. smoke. imagery. ]
is crouched on the slipshod plastic of a cracked dumpster lid.Pungent, the aroma beneath; her nostrils flare - feral - and her fingers coil tightly on blood bare feet.
(laz)
"No doubt."..head turns toward the other (Delusion of grandeur himself.) and both brows raising briefly as the stog is accepted and settled onto her lips. Her fist tapping Gabbs in an absent pound (Touch: No its not what I think it is, I'm paranoid. That's all.) before she regards him fully now--
"You trying to get back to your roots or someshit" A chuckle. "I mean, Sir."
A passing comment before she turns back to Missy (lightning in my blood--strange moments, these.) Head canting.
"Or does that remark go to you Miss, Cosmo-pol-eee-tan. Slumming down memory lane?"
(missy)
She glances to "sir" and then to Laz..
"yup damn straight" she laughs.."but i aint cosmo-anything..im broker then fuck and heading to the pool hall" she doesnt let the paranoia grab her..she wasnt paranoid anymore..not like before.
nothing to be afraid of
"Wouldnt call it slumming down menory lane, never left the slums" she shoves her hands back into her pockets leaving the smokes there and relaxing..Eyes just wander to the quiet guy...and then back to Laz..
"I aint gonna inturrupt n shit..i got to make some cash" Eyes move up the street to the old home pool hall
"shits tight all over chica"(james)
there's a bit of a laugh now
weight shifting to pull from the wall
tall Gnawer smooth and confident
(grand? surely you jest, he knows his place good as any)"Nah, just enjoying the music, M'Lord"
chin dips in a nod at Missy
but not much more(laz)
Eyes flicker between the two and that hand creeps back to the guitar once more--as if it were a child stealing a cookie before the rest of her takes notice--the absent playing ensues.Melodious confusion.
"You too know each other?"(hematite)
[....Lightning in my blood--
strange moments, these.]The damp of the alley (silver pooled in puddles) reaches into her chest, fine tendrils; the girl crackles with a livid energy and her eyes narrow at the passing rush of sleek metal things that go in straight lines outside of this alleyway safety. Her shoulders coil over each other, arching up to press against her ears, which scream in protest against the sound--
Mouths one word.
"Where."Then prowls off the dumpster, startling at the rattle of aluminum against aluminum.
Been a while. Been a long while. Uncertain, she edges - skittish, skittish - onto the street.
Brilliant-eyed, really.
(missy)
She shakes her head..
"nope"
She watches the guy..
and catches a scent...
hello darkness my ol friend...ive come to talk with you again.
"should i?"(laz)
"Same fam. He's new though."Thats all the first b(h)it is free, the next will cost ya. So many things about her could addict, the knowlege she stored away in that riddling cranium, not the least of her wares. But-- She distracted by (..I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places..) a creeping feeling that curls about her.
--just whe you think you've locked your closet.
(Another skeleton jumps out.)(missy)
Same fam
She nods once to the guy...but doesnt start any intorductions...
Eyes moving back to Laz she nods...
"you been riding solo? Or you still hangin with the same peeps?"(james)
"Not yet."easy enough
a smile, warm, genuine
relaxed before the verbal assault he knows will soon come
but to the one he doesn't know
you seem so famliar"James."
hand extended, still wrapped from last night
(hey, it's getting cold)
t-shirt rags turned boxer's brace
being polite and all
since they seem to have Lazarus in common
and that Family thing..... so it seems....(missy)
She shrugs and nods in acnowledgement at the hand, not gonna clomp fists against something healing.
"Missy" is all she says in reply..
(hematite)
Her unblinking stare flicks around; pauses on a car. (It was always strange.) Wonder, wonder, little star--how I wonder where I am. Sucking on her lower lip intense she tries to make her eyes focus on some lettering tagged across the street. But it isn't important. Instead, her dark(ly iridecent) wolvish glance grabs onto thin air--and she, not touching anything, fueled like a shooting star burning out the last cinders of (rage) light follows.[ not. you. too. ]
They see a girl in heavy jeans, crusted and burned and many-holed--it must be a fashion statement--and too snug around the swell of hungry (flanks) thighs, a white bone of hip jutting out to somehow exacerbate the hollow of (starved) stomach.
And when she shadows around the corner
[ ... ghost ... ]
her eyes are right away drawn to Lazarus' lower back.So easy.
So easy.
So easy.
Too easy. Too, too easy.Because, a half-growl inches in the back of her throat--defensive, self-directed--and is swallowed. Because. Because because because. Because. If. If if if--SHE was one of them. But she wasn't. Hematite, arrested in motion like a butterfly stabbed to earth, feels her lips (chappd) curl into a semblance of a smile (it's a mystery). That sickness, healed.
Right.
(laz)
And the guitar played on [Melodius confusion] as the spectacled girl watches placidly.You'd better believe she's watching them the (tug. tug tug.) on her attention not distracting her from this moment of hand offered and not accepted. (Remember when all Missy wanted was to meet another tribemate--not anymore.) Things change, people change and life (to finish the cliche) goes on.
"Wonders never cease. Here I though you were a big dawg n'all."
And her eyes flicker past James (mask revealed) to the barefoot girl in burned jeans. Laz's jaw simply drops. For once, at a loss for words.
(james)
a brow lifts
so you're Missyfancy that
ignored hand dropped back to his side
a part of him understands it
(a part of him is grateful for it)
no matter
it's all goodquirking a grin at Lazarus
"Here I guess you thought wrong."
he never said he was a big dawg
did he(hematite)
Hematite hums low to herself (an incessant. cricket. sound. more. wild. still. by. sun.) and sways in place.Not so much because she is unconscious of the neurotic gesture, but because she has been frozen in hunt so long that she must forcibly remind herself of what it is to dance in the cities of man (snarl) and woman (growl). Even so Hematite stops her unrhythmic rock and her hands slick into the remains of once-pockets, fingers fraying out of holes. Even so, Hematite stands. still.
Her eyes have switched from the girl to those around her - and measuringly remained for an instant, another - and then she has subsided. Settled to wait by the wall and to follow Lazarus home--that's the vague intention beginning to coalsce in her brain (like some dubious weather vein) at least. Until -
eyes meet.
[Stare.](laz)
Instinct pervades.
(growl rises low in her throat.)..you better not be here to take me back. (She'd never do that Sid.) And turns the unending percussion of vocal war into the softest of sighs. An expression only capable of of a moonsinger--I was once, not anymore. (Sid?--Obsidian? no. Lazarus.) Not anymore, she was nothing and no one, stripped of auspice, tribe, and rank stripped of the self they had constructed, I don't know you anymore.
(I wish I did.)
But she cannot look away from the barefoot girl in the burned jeans.
Can.
Not.(james)
okay, he may be a little slow sometimes
and safe to say he was distracted by Missy for a few minutes
but right now
.... he just can't miss the growing standoff infront of himfantastic
one Lord bitch
one..... burned woman scarey intensely staring thing
one corrupted Gnawer
one confused Gnawer
(that's been happening so often lately)
and tension thickening in the airhe should have just stayed at the motel, seriously.
because he has no clue what to do right now
(hematite)
touching metal gives people shocks now. Undercurrent of (more then just) electricity rides high in the air.Sudden, Hematite slashes the air with one thin (fleshless?) hand--ducking her head in ill-concealed, coiled, angry agitation.
Shut. Up.
Followed by the culmination of indecision--decision like the flood of a wave (crash, crash) or the sound of thunder.
Hematite? Backs away, and disapears around the corner.
It was just a ghost, Lazarus.
...and the spirits sing her passing.(laz)
"I just--did you.. I mean--"Its all she can o to speak unglish (...not the lilting arabic of her birth) choked words as strings continue to vibrate against her minitrations choking back the wave of emotions that clash within her. This stranger does not know you--keep it together. And for that fleeting instant she must look utterly lost staring after the incessent space the barefoot girl occupied, so much less her (carefully constructed.) image, and more the l(-ost) -one wold she is. Bravado gone in a flash of electric disappearence...
"--see that?"
(james)
close your mouth, James, that's rudelips close from their slight part
taking a glance to where the girl disappeared to
he thinks he didquiet for a short spell
in thought
how.... bizarre
but slowly nodding"Yes."
looking to the stunned Lord with a brow slightly raised
I told you this 'hood was going to hell"Mean something?"
there's no contrition or condescention
he seriously wants (needs) to know
Garou to Garou
differences aside for these few seconds
that was just..... freaky......(laz)
"Yeah..."Her eyes are still fixed to that spot. The last breath of her single syllabic response seeeming to trail off into infinity (Damn her, you don't want to but the Lordling is SO freaking likable.) And finally the spectacled gaze flickers up to the thug brow twitching briefly before she realizes herself.
Strangers.
"Oh." Blink. "Fuck where we talking about again?"Glimpse closed, resume facade.
(james)
how..... delightfully.... forthcoming you are with information that might be valueable to the integrity of my hide
seriously
thank you.(damn that voice)
there's a slight glare.... er.... glance to the one from the same fam
muscle rolling shoulders in a slight shrug
it may not be apparent to the common bystander, but after all that distrusting going on yesterday, it seems he's..... standing a little closer to the Lordling, isn't he
he wants to know more about that thing
but he's not going to ask it infront of Missy"My delusions of granduer, if I remember correctly."
said with that damnable easy smile
(laz)
And as Missy leaves for the pool hall Laz turns and waves, "Be safe, Stranger." Something wasn't right about Missy, but Laz wasn't the type to pry (..no she was more the type to break into your house and read your diary.)Exhalation as she looks up to James with a twisting smirk--(...belies the confused uncertainty that writhes--that wasn't Hematite, was it?)
"So yeah--ain't you grand."
Kinda lame--okay she's have an off day.(james)
he..... doesn't give Missy quite as fond a farewell
not one at all, really
just a bit of a smile, and a bit of nod
and.... that's it(makes you want to shudder)
chuckling as the grin turns back to the Lordling
cause he's really amused, tonight"Well, you seem to keep implying I am, for some reason."
(imogen)
A storm is coming, promised the strange effeminate man the night before. He was right, he was wrong. The rain that day had been brief, and has already passed over, leaving the world damp and cool, with a half formed fog hanging in the air, the sky still mostly obscured by clouds, only the faintest patch of sky showing through in places, little splashes of stares and sometimes moon.The motel room as damp, as cheap motel rooms would be, the wetness seeping through the air, feeling heavy and sluggish, unpleasant against the skin. She sits by the window, at the cheap malformed table, foot pressed against the central leg, trying to keep the table level, as she peruses through a file folder of macabre memories. An ashtray rests in the centre of the table, a cigarette half burned out, and smouldering resting against the lip, to be picked up when she recalls it. Bare feet, jeans, a dark blue sweater, long sleeved and moulded against her torso. One hand reaches up absently, pushing back unruly hair, and drawing the mass over one shoulder, theoretically to get it out of the way, as the other hand reaches out to pluck the cigarette from the ashtray.
"The bloke," apparently they truly do say bloke in England, "who put up those flyers said he'd be able t'meet with me tonight," she notes absently, placing the cigarette between her lips. Engrossed in whatever files she's been perusing, it's the first she's spoken in hours.
(decker)
Two twin--sized beds. Talk about sending mixed signals. Lounging on the left one, no shirt no shoes (they'd never let him into a restaurant at this rate), Decker clicks through channels on the tube. Seems like no matter how much money a man did or didn't have, how old he was, how good his breeding or how bad his upbringing, they all knew how to surf three hundred channels in a minute. Of course, this being Crap Motel, USA, there are only twenty or so channels to zip through.The volume's down low. The bedspread is kicked down almost off the edge of the bed to reveal clean sheets. Relative to the comforter, at least. He sits with his back to the headboard, pillow between, and when she speaks, he stops his flipping for a minute and looks at her.
"Oh yeah?" Half-disinterested. "He say why he's lookin' fer her?"
(imogen)
The file folder shuts softly, as she half glances over her shoulder at him with a shake of her head, "Not a word," she answers, tapping ash into the ashtray as she exhales slowly. The cigarette is stubbed out, as she drops the file folder back into a brief case, shutting it with a clunk of a lock. "I didn't ask though. Some of that shite isn't best to do ove the phone."When perhaps indicating to someone that a loved one may be in her morgue, doing it over the phone must seem like bad taste indeed.
(decker)
Hangnail on his hand. Chewing it loose, his attention diverts from her briefly to pull it off and flick it aside. Garou aren't exactly shining paragons of etiquette as a rule, and he wasn't a shining paragon of a Garou. Sitting up, he stuffs another pillow behind his back and leans into it. Zapping the TV into mute mode, he tosses the remote down, folds his arms across his chest, and looks back at her."So what you gonna tell 'im?"
(laz)
"Maybe its taht stick up your ass?"She snickers hand falling away from the guitar even as she stands. Taking the strap the slim girl settles it over slim shoulders watching the thug all the while--a bit wearily. Those spectacles slide down the slope of her nose with the motion and blinking up at him a brow lifts quizzically.
"Where we goin, James?"
(It was the voice of Gaia herself--the sound of seraphic swords being drawn from silvered shields.)You wanted to hate it.
(james)
no.... there was no want involved
he did hate it
rather liked it, too, damned musician's appreciation of fine sounds
but there was a good measure of hate just blistering somewhere way way waaay down deep in the mellow Ahroun - and why shouldn't there be? He's Garou. He's Gnawer. He's male. Those, and so many other reasons sum up to the fact that there's this festering seed rightfully and naturally nestled next to his powerfully beating heart, and all it's doing is waiting for the perfectly opportune moment to begin growing. That seed cracked open a while ago. Tiny tendrils of growth beginning to peek out. And then something stopped watering it. The growth stopped.
Seeing Missy..... the seed cracked open just a little more.oh, now that was a well thought out insult
she and the braying jackass of an irish setter should get together sometime
they'd like each other"Someplace you can tell me why that...... thing..... spooked you so much."
dreads rustle over his shoulders as head tips
already beginning the easy stroll down the way
at least he knows a place they can sit down(laz)
Teeth bit against her lower lip but she walked with him, more curious than any feline was wolf with shadowed soul. The moved together down the street as the wooden back of the guiatr balenced between slim shoulders and the leathered twin holsters that his beneath the sweatshirt at the base of her back."Where might that be?"
Fingers push sliding spectacles back up her nose and thoughtfully the wollen cap is tugged more firmly about her head.
(imogen)
A small part of her hungers to simply say no, just to have that small moment outside of anyone's presence, anyone Garou, anyone of the blood. Better sense prevails, however as she tilts her head slightly at him, sitting across the room from him. Him with his television flipping, and her with her files of blood and murder."Might be a good idea. If he knows 'er, and she's fang kin, he might be o' th'blood as well, right? You'd be better to see that, than me." One hand rubs absently at her left arm, against tattoo-brands and bruises.
(decker)
His eyes are on the TV. His eyes are on the screen, where world leaders were playing playground games with millions of lives at stake. His eyes are on the news, but - a sideways flicker of a glance, barely more than a blink - he knows where her hand is, what she rubs. Tattoos and bruises. Marked like cattle. "Sure?"
(james)
there's the breif consideration of the petty satisfaction that would come with making another comment related to up someone's ass
breif
it's scared away by the steady clink of the rebar sticks with each long stride
the percussionist and the guitarist
the drummer and the singer
the Gnawer and the Lord
both shadows of what they used to be"Motel nearby.... they don't seem to care when sit by the pool for a while to watch the stars."
that's because his packmates are paying customers
but he doesn't mention that"Makes it seem like they've more business, I suppose."
there's a few more blocks of silence save the unconscious rhthyms and ghost notes caused by the instruments they carry in their walk
a wrapped (there's still blood on those bandages) hand reaching to open the pool gate and let her in
(first.... even...... some habits never change)
the light's broken
so there's nothing marring the dark reflections on the water from the sky above
the stars that make it through the smog-choked city haze
the moon peering down from the everlasting darkness
and making himself at home on one of the broken deck chairsin plain sight from the window of room six-oh-nine
a part of him hopes they're back(imogen)
One knee pulls up to her chest, her arm draping easily around it, before answering him, taking her time to formulate her answer, explanations thought of, and discarded in quick succession. "Yeah. If I end up somehow stumbling over the fact he's of the blood, I'd probably end up trying to search someone out anyway. This way, we skip a step."Plain sight from the window of room six-oh-nine, the two sit, though her back faces the window. A wind presses against the glass with a creak of weather and worn sealant. A half glance over her shoulder, one that turns into a longer one as dark eyes catch sight of at least one of the loiterors, craning her neck slightly for a moment to see. "James is back," she notes, as her attention turns back to the fenrir in the room with her.
(laz)
Gate.
Blood on his hands.
Privacy."..Watchya wanna know?"
Fleeting impressions but no psychic leaps bubbled forth, just the flatness of three dimension. (..there was so much more than reality.) The reluctance of her steps is washed away by the plain sight of the moon, reassurance is her eye-contact with Luna's waning face.
"Leave the gate open."
A bit of quid pro quo.
( does it chafe, the easy way she issues orders?)(james)
there's a glance back as the gate swings closed on its child safety spring latch
... whoops
but a quick synopsis of the all off four foot high bar-rail fence surrounding them
he's sure she can scramble over it if for some reason she should feel the need
(She's a Lord, she can do anything she damn well pleases, can't she)and the sprawling lounge with crossed ankles on the deck chair with rebar sticks lain to the side
does it really look like he's going to try anything?blood on his knuckles
blood on the rebar
skin healed from where it split open beneath his fury and frustration"What that thing was. Why she spooked you into blessed silence. Why she sent chills up my spine."
for starters
(imogen)
"Damned if I know," she replies as her dark eyes flicker from James to the form of Lazarus, not bothering to mention her presence when Decker can so obviously see her.(laz)
Her shoulders stiffen as the latch swings shut eyes narrow before spectacles are slid away and into her the front pocket of her sweatshirt. That slanting gaze slides about them (Sure, when your six feet tall--)And with exhaltion she moves to the otherside of small space crouching there, a small shadowed form of limbs oand dlanting eyes."A trade then? Answer for an answer, a truth for a truth?"
(decker)
"Figgers she'd show up sooner or later," mutters Decker. He watches from the window for another minute or so, ringing his left wrist with his right fingers, rubbing slowly, absently. The frown continues to crease his brow. With the darkness outside and the room lights on inside, they could see him if they looked up, and he doesn't particularly care. Eventually, stepping back from the window, he whips his shirt off the back of her chair (the only one in the room, and it was doubling as his clotheshanger), shoves his feet into his shoes, and takes a few stamping steps to get the fit right.Without telling her to stay or follow, the Modi walks out the door and leaves it yawing open. She can hear his footsteps recede down the hall, where a door clangs open (the stairwell; why wait for the elevator when you can just walk?), then shut.
He trots down the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the confined space. It'll be another few minutes before he gets down to ground level.
(james)
if there was ever a look of eternal suffering for a cause.......
just martyr him now
do we have to keep with these infuriating games of who answers what and where and how"Sure thing."
just..... give in to her, Jamey-boy
play her little games
she'll be on her way home again all the faster(laz)
Eyes flicker to the approaching Get.
"God, I knew something smelled like shit--I just didn't the bullshit oozed this far from the traler park."Maybe sooner than you think.
"That your packmate?"Tension there was no love lost between this one and the approaching other. But she hadn't made a move to leave yet, muscles tense (..just on the cusp of--) waiting for there merest shift of of wind to make her goodbyes.
(imogen)
Her head turns to follow Decker with her eyes as he departs without a word staring at the left open door with a look of mild bemusement. "Who?" she inquires of the empty room, standing up and walking to the open door, and shutting it firmly.Alone, she glances around the ugly motel room, leaning up against the door, one hand lightly tapping against the cheap wood of the jamb.
(james)
there's a look
and it answers everything"I thought you'd be well aware bullshit can get up and walk anywhere it pleases."
You did left quite unsaid
but it's there. you know it is.
wait....
James? Swearing?
but then the Gnawer smiles, easy"You know, we'll never get anywhere if you keep avoiding my first questions, M'Lord"
he can sure make that word sound filthy
(decker)
The door to the stairwell clangs closed behind him with a sound that says it's locked. If he was going back in (if she was going to get away), that wasn't going to be an option.Coming toward his packmate and the Shadow Lord, Decker's gait is slow, swaying, swaggering, the usual. A lopsided smirk greets her insult. My, aren't we charming today; you'd think she'd been taking lessons at the Decker Rohl School of Etiquette. Lifting the hem of his shirt, he gives it an affect sniff, drops it.
"Funny." Close enough to stop now, he doesn't. It's another two steps before he does, and by then he's five inches away, and the height different is made obvious. He doesn't deign to bend his head to speak to her; his storm-grey gaze slips down from on high: not the arrogance of a Lord, but the easy contempt of a fighter who's yet to lose a fight.
"Didn't 'member you mindin' it so much the last we," eyes drop, slide, "met."
Histories. Sucked. Moving past, he drops onto the bench next to his packmate, and resumes chewing at his hangnail, listening.
(laz)
"Ask a specific question."She turns to james now looking him in eyes.
"Get a specific answer."
History...
(Yeah.)"Nah, I just nearly blew the brains from your skull--but then I realized I'd be wasting bullets."
Its was the sweetest most innocent smile yuo've ever seen.
(Being a Lord had its perks..only she wasn't. Really.)
(james)
he's not sure what is worse
that she's a Lord
or that she's coming of as plain stupid
he had asked threeonce again
"When we were on the street, not even an hour ago, just after you finished your song, there was a burnt girl that appeared out of nowhere and shocked you enough to rattle that high and mighty attitude into sheer silence, and affected me, a stranger to the entire situation, enough to be uneasy, generally confused, and spooked. Now if that is specific enough to pinpoint an event for you to answer, please, bestow the knowledge on me, to become even more specific..... who was that and what is her importance?"
please remember to answer in full and complete sentences
totalyl fill in the bubbles
number two pencils only
begin.... now(laz)
"She was an old packmate--from another life. If she was even there at all."Might have been anything. (You don't know Hematite like I do.) Might have been anything.
God, I hope so.
(decker)
His attention seemed to have been elsewhere - on the pool, blue and lit with underwater lights beneath its carpet of dead leaves. At the words addressed to him, the Modi gives his hangnail another rip, flicks the scrap of skin aside, and looks up.Shrugs.
You know. I know.And really, sometimes he'd rather forget. Keeping his silence, he flicks a glance to James, then up at the 6th floor window - not that he could see much from this distance - and just listens.
(imogen)
It's not long before she's come to a similar conclusion she has in the past, and is grabbing a jacket from the closet, and pulling open the door, scooping up keys and smokes in the process.As Decker glances up at the sixth floor window the light that had shown through cheap curtains extinguishes, and Imogen shuts the door behind her, shoving hands into suede jacket pockets, walking out into the hallway and toward the elevator.
(debastian damien miller)
...watching me, watching you...He stands with his back against the wall beside the elevator in the motel hallway; his shoulders rolled forward into a slump, his hands thrust deep down into the pockets of his long overcoat, his hair hanging loosely, spilling down over his shoulders almost to his waist.
(james)
after the returned glance
...... sometimes packmates don't need words.....
there's a bit of a nod
inner lower lip sucked in thought
old packmateslet's just not go there
he doesn't say much else though
quid pro quo
her turn(imogen)
That same motel hallway she walks down. Her stride pauses midmovement as she catches sight of the effeminate man standing by the elevator. Dark blue eyes disappear in a sharp succession of blinks, before she continues walking, glancing sideways at the man, without words, her hand reaching out to press the buttons of the elevator. Far too close to the stranger for her comfort, but the stubborn part of her refuses to turn around and take the stairs.(laz)
Discomfort reigns and she finally stands as Imogen makes her way down closer. Her head shakes and she pulls the spectacles out lifting it between her and the image of the approaching girl--"Who all is this pack"
Only steppenwulf can sneer like that over such a vaunted state of being, your priviledge is anothers burden.
(rune)
Rune exhales, cigarette smoke coiling like twin snakes from her nostrils, as she leans against dirty metal framing a pay phone at another anonymous highway rest area.Cursing under her breath, she fumbles through her pockets for change - a quarter, a dime, whoa, fifty cents? when the fuck did that happen another quarter, the dime fumbles to the wet, stinking asphalt.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
...or rather, not a ring. It rings on her end. On the other end, the midi like a virgin trills out, devoid of any musicality, just a series of annoying little beeps.
(SDM)
"I hope the little one is healing well from her late night encounter."It is hard to tell as the soft words fall almost like a whisper against her ears, if he is concerned or curious or merely being polite. A pale, long-fingered hand emerges from one of the longcoats pockets, running through his hair and pulling raven silk strands back from his boyish face.
"So much potential, so many burdens for one so young."
(decker)
Lights blink off just as he looks up. Odd.The Modi frowns, and this is what distracts him so that he misses Lazarus' question for a moment, until the ringing cell phone is thrust at him as James prepares to answer. Now his frown is turned to the little silvery contraption, which James might've figured out, but Decker was still new to. "Who all are you to ask, Lazarus? Yer on our turf."
Fortunately, that charming conversation ends there as his attention is again swept aside. Wonder what this button does...
Four or five pokes later (all the while Like a Virgin - ha! - rings), the call is finally on. He lifts it to his ear, standing up and moving away to hear better. Grunt: "Yeah?"
(imogen)
Standing at the elevator door, Imogen turns her head to glance at the boy-man before her, staring at him rudely, "I'm sure she's perfectly fine. What do you want?"
(james)
"Eagle's Chosen."clear and truthful enough
she didn't ask who was in it
just who they were, as a wholethough a brow lifts at the tune
hey, it still has battery power left!
but it's quickly handed over as the lanky Gnawer moves to sit up
figuring Decker'll have an easier time getting the thing to behave and answer than he will, anyway
(okay, he was wrong, and doing his best to keep his composure at the sight and sound)watching Lazarus
with those warm, brown, deep eyes
intently"Why did you look at her like she had come back from the dead?"
they've had enough problems with spirits lately
he wasn't about to walk into another one without any knowledge
he has reason enough to avoid the Lord
he's just looking for moreseriously. wicked. mojo.
(sbd)
"I'm curious about the other night. Nothing more, nothing less, Dr. Salughter."Oh creepy, the weirdo with a penchant for crouching on roof-tops knew her name. Although, maybe he just reads the newspaper, right?
"Don't worry, Dr. Slaughter. I don't bite. Besides..."
His eyes close slightly as she gives her the most breif once over she has probably ever been scrutinized by.
"You aren't my... type."
(run)
"I'm using a payphone." Rune mutters into the filthy plastic mouthpiece. "I had to get out of my car and use a fucking payphone.."She pauses, and exhales another cloud of smoke through her nostrils - rather like a cartoon bull - and continues. Such charm. "Now where the fuck are you?"
(imo)
Her hands brush against her thighs, discomforted by his scrutiny. He makes her skin crawl. Perhaps it's more than just 'preternatural' but something sends tiny creatures sputtering down her spine like cold water. Her jaw tightens, "Well, I'm relieved t'hear that. But you'll have to find someone else to tell you about the other night. I haven't got a bleedin' clue."(laz)
She spits."I was invited,(bitch.)"
Very few could get away with talking to Decker the way she did, she wasn't sure she was one of them. Eyes roll and the spectcles are opened once more settled onto the rounded features of her face, and tensed muscles move to a stand as the slender creature moves towards the gate, nible fingers sliging over the latch, as the gate easily creaks open.
"Did I?"
Mischivous grin.
"Think your barking up the wrong, ghost."
God, did she -have- to have a voice like that. The way it seemed to linger in thae air even in the silence of her parting. How it pulled even as acidic words pushed--people HATE for all kinds of reasons.
Chief among them, regret.
"Later, James."(decker)
"Uh," mutters Decker, counting minutes in his head, wondering just how slow a motel's crappy elevator could possibly be, "Green Harbor Motel. Like twenty blocks from yer house, on Ellingdale Street, 'round the corner from the 8-bus stop. Know the one?"(sbd)
"So you aren't in the same condition as your... friends?"Well, that was a polite and almost clinical way to ask. But it also gave the impression that he knew things. Knew secrets. Knew... stuff. When the elevator door opens he places his arm inside, as if holding a door open for a lady and waits for her to proceed him. Yes, it appears he was taking the ride downstairs with her.
"I'm not always want to take the hard way down." Is his only explanation should she even seem awry at the idea of sharing the elevator with him.
(rune)
"Got it." and the line goes dead. The handset is slammed with satisfying force back into its holder, and Rune heads back to her car.(james)
"Goodnight, Lazarus."smiled
so very easily
because even with that voice... that voice
did she have to have a voice like that?
for crying out loud.....
it would be so much easier to hate her as a whole if she wasn't such a damned pleasure to listen to
however
you'll note he makes no move to stop her
(good riddance)quietly watching as she moves away
you don't run from something
unless it scares you(decker)
Line goes dead. Phone makes that annoying loud beep-beep-beep in his ear just so he knew it was dead. Jerking it away from his sensitive hearing, Decker stifles a curse and turns just in time to see Lazarus saunter away."Charmin', ain't she?" he mutters - at James, presumably. Made him look good sometimes. "How'd she find you?" A pause. "Rune's comin' here."
(imogen)
A blank look, perfectly expressionless, "I don't know what you're talking about." She stares at him silently for a moment as he holds the elevator door open, "What, no leaping off tall buildings today?" sarcasm.A pause, a nervous tap of her fingers against her thigh. "I'll take the stairs, thank you." Turns on her heel and walks in the opposite direction.
(sbd)
"Excercise is always good for the body and soul."She turns on her heel and walks away from him. He lets his arm drop and the elevator doors slide closed once more. A moment of complete silence behind her, as if he was no longer there. Then the faint fall of footsteps following her towards the steps.
(judah rahotep)
I believe in…
I deceive in…
Bottom weaving…
I can breathe in ….The building is closer to the Casino ridden portions of New Jersey, on a block nestled with neat Condominiums and townhouses. The cars that line the streets are somewhat nicer, and the trash on the street is somewhat … less.
A new sign has just been erected above the three story brick building. It's quite plan, nothing gaudy or tacky, nothing too…flashy.
Cymaa.
No other words grace the white lit up sign.
Got a curse in…
Could be worse in…
You first…
In a hearse in…
Good as dead in…
Nothing left in….
Nothing left in….The music oozes from the as of yet unopened club…perhaps Management is simply…testing things before the doors open for business….
(imogen)
A glance over her shoulder half incredulous, the sound of a steel door creaking open, and starting to swing closed as her feet make soft clanging sounds down the stairs. Six floors later, and the steel door opens in the fenced in area, starting to fall shut behind her (though if Sebastian still follows her, it won't close completely before he reaches it), she glances with one hand down at her watch, frowning at the time. A muttered curse, as she closes the distance between James and Decker.
(james)
ever have a conversation that just leaves a bad taste in your mouth
the Gnawer looks like he was chewing on something rotten
he doesn't like her
and it shows"Charming..... but I'd expect better insults from her kind, best she could come up with was that I reeked of a tainted Get."
those eyes slide over
you can bet she meant you
makes one wonder
we all know the city taints us; the slums, the apathy, the anger, the smog, the desctruction, the vibe that hums here and coats us like oil tarnishing fur, clumping and coating it until all are lefts are itching, burning matts
i've got it
she's got it
wonder why she thought to point it out in you like it was something special
then his eyes drift back to what constellations he could see from here"She asked me for a light. We hit it off from there."
I won't back down.
especially.
not.
from youdoes it show he doesn't like her, yet?
"Apparently she thinks enough of this supposed board up my ass that acts as a suppository for delusions of grandeur that she keeps coming back around."
(laz)
(Dude, Somedays she could make the devil himself look good.)Things to do.
Things to do.She'd been busy these days, real busy and standing outside the motel she pauses briefly and as a bus turns she grabs onto the back and head twisting around its side watches the streets fly past.
Evetually She jumps off of Willoughby street and resecuring the Guitar at her back moves towards a certain club she stakes a few nights back. Did HE know he was being stalked, she's cautious just the same.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMOctober 25, 2002.10.25.02. - ? [pack]apparently there was a scene played here, which I do not have..... or at least have more than a handful of posts from..... eventually this will be remedied......
maybe
Posted by james at 12:00 AMOctober 20, 2002.10.20.02. - promises [salome-decker](james)
errands
those little important things, menial tasks, trivial amenities, that simply need to get done
thus, the Gnawer returns from a grande voyage of completing those exact things
errands
tasks
a lot of little things that sum to one big accomplishmentdepending on which version of the book you're reading, of course
second hand Cochrans find a satisfactory rhythm on the concrete, tattered tails of the longcoat snap around his ankles like hungry, filthy denizens of the ankle height world, hands shoved into his pockets (you know, it's starting to get chilly at night) lower lip suckled between teeth for a thoughtful nibble
strange things afoot
strange things that need thought
odd how they've brought him back hereas if he didn't get enough the first go round
(decker)
He just watches her for an interminable moment, ignoring her (too-) quick question. Without looking away, he slams her trunk shut, the car bouncing softly on its struts. A flick of a glance toward Nova; the gesture is returned. Then, quietly, He just watches her for an interminable moment, ignoring her (too-) quick question. Without looking away, he slams her trunk shut, the car bouncing softly on its struts. A flick of a glance toward Nova; the gesture is returned. Then, quietly, "The 'we don't talk none about it and it ain't happened' act."A beat. An exhale; his eyes flicker away toward an unnamed point, and back. "Gabriel Thunderoak's his name. Athro of yer tribe."
(imogen)
"fuck," she breathes, and somehow such a word is that much more vile when spoken in her lilting cornwall accent. One hand reaches up, rubbing her neck irritably, before beginning to pull the string-held medical shield from around her neck.Her eyebrow flickers up as she replies to his previous comment, pushing the thought of her tribesmates (what's more, an athro.. fuck indeed...) away for a second, "I hadn't noticed we'd had time to talk 'bout anything other than keeping another kinfolk in my condo until you got back."
(james)
the beat keeps up right on towards Area 51 before there's a sudden sound of silence
nothing left of the riot but a savage scar that nobody can see
seriously
it's the nobody's that everyone ignores which see everything
walls with ears, and all thatit's empty
well, more changed
and change is not always good
so he stands there
right in the middle of proverbial ground zerohands still in his pockets
lip still between his teeth
dreads still tangled mane across his shoulders
deep thought still in his eyeslooking for what has disappeared
(decker)
(you know, i just realized what a completely botched-up c&p my last post was *LMAO*) So much for the vacation. The Modi shrugs, unconsciously echoing her gesture as he too rubs the back of his neck, holding on to it while he tilts his head back. "Could always pack up and move again," he adds, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Gotta be somewhere you can go to be alone. For a year or two."Smirk fades. Hand drops. "There anythin' to talk about?"
(imogen)
"Antarctic? Or maybe Siberia..." She suggests with a faint tug of her lips; it fades quickly. She shakes her head slightly, "And then what'll I do when the next big-ass tribesmate finds me?" She gestures but slightly, though it indicates some measure of resignedness. "I seem to be more than a little hard to keep under the radar." She's right. Looks like that, pure breed like that? Any Garou that meets her will recognize her for what she is; no way, no how she can avoid that.She wraps the string around her medical examiner's shield depositing it in her jacket, before answering, "Must be, if you're asking."
(decker)
A snort.And, at length - a silence interrupted by one, two intakes of breath, as though he were about to speak - another. "Naw." Temporary lapse of sanity; momentary lapse of judgment.
His eyes slide past her to James. The Gnawer was unmistakeable in his easy, mellow stride that breathed confidence, that spoke of a life in the city. He was so used to this land that he moved not so much on it, as in it.
(imogen)
A slow inhalation of breath, and she nods faintly "There we are then," she replies. One hand slides into the pocket of the rain slicker (preparation for the rain that never comes) and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, carefully tapping one cancer-stick along with the lighter. The pack is half empty, and she returns it to her pocket. Sliding the cigarette between her lips, thumbing the lighter and drawing the bright orange flame to the tip, sucking on the filter to bring it to light.
(salome)They were her babies, her sweeties, her pookum-bears, her lovers, her companions, her confidantes, her backup, her soul-mates... and the bitch hadn't given them back. She probably would have let the whole thunked-on-the-head-and-handcuffed-to-a-breakfast-bar-thing slide, if they hadn't neglected this one... minor (major)... detail.She figured that if they hadn't been at 'home', them they'd be baying the fuzzy butts off in the vicinity of where the trouble had all begun.
(james)
right there
right in the middle of the sidewalk
the Ahroun folds to a crouchhands withdrawing from his pockets for hands clad in fingerless, frayed gloves to wrap around his knees
rebar sticks clanking in their sheath strung diagonal across his back
(don't leave home without 'em)
and after a few silent minutes
a hand reaches out, fingers splayed wide on the concrete infront of himstill....... thinking.....
(decker)
The pack is always half-empty for the likes of them, it seemed. Never half-full. With a breath hissed out between his teeth, he reaches forward and plucks the cigarette out of her mouth. And if the backs of his fingers should brush her lips, if the contact should spark in his eyes like lightning, it must be a trick of the light."Bummin' one." Almost growled, that, as he pushes off her trunk and stalks down the street to see what James was up to.
(salome)
When you stand daily on the edge of the abyss peering down into the inevitable void, a person becomes used to feeling nagged, preassured, hell... even pushed!... towards the darkness. It wasn't the first time she'd attracted the attention of spirits with less than amiable intentions towards her mental and physical wellbeing. That was why she was driving tonight. Since they'd unceremoniously released her 'back into the wilds', she'd been moving every hour or so. She figured that if banes had as mouths as big as wyld spirits, then who knew what knew she was around and ready for the 'taking'. That is, if she was considered worth the 'effort'.At first, she'd been more concerned with leaving the apartment 'just in case'... she didn't know too much about banes, but she was as paranoid of things she couldn't see as well as things she could. She wanted to get out dodge.
Now she wanted her babies back...
James was the first she saw, crouched down 'thinking' on the sidewalk. He'd been the one who had smacked her in the head, giving her one hell of a shiner as a result.
Perfect...
The black truck that was not the usual style for her 'family' - which tended to sport pick-up's on the verge of death - was sleek and shiny. It's engine and exhaust was well maintained, with nary a cough or wheeze of smoke in sight.
It 'slid', so to speak, to a halt along the curb of the sidewalk right next to where James had folded into a crouch, engine idleing.
The window, either our of paranoia or fashion-victim sense, were darkly tinted.
(james)
he not only looks deep in thought
but..... concerned
because from what he feels
because from what he sees
or more.... doesn't seesomething in the sag of his shoulders says this isn't going to go well
and the crazy homeless man crouching int he middle of the sidewalk unfolds again as if suddenly inspired by the army of seraphic moths in his head
maybe he's just not looking in the right places(sal)
All hail electric windows...One such darkly tinted window whirred faintly as it began to slide down... for a whole inch... then ceased in movement, allowing a haze of smoke to exit the truck cabin in a ghostly haze - just as the Bonegnawer unfolded from his crouch. My, what a coincidence, huh?
(imogen)
The lines of her body freeze and tighten as he reaches out unexpectedly, large hand drawing close to her face, but she does nothing to stop him from plucking the cigarette between her lips (and there must be a trick of the light, because she may as well have said that there was nothing to talk about, right?) her head turning to the side as Decker stalks away. "You're welcome," she mutters, running a hand over her hair, brushing strands away from her eyes, teeth setting on the inside of her mouth for a moment.She reaches into her pocket to replace the cigarette Decker'd taken, tapping another out to smoke, remaining outside of the car, leaning against the truck.
(decker)
Decker's still a block away when Salome pulls up, and when the black pickup (looks familiar...) pulls up next to his packmate, his eyes narrow. Puffing out a stream of smoke from around his - Imogen's, whomever's - cigarette, he changes his mind and throws his body into a slouch against the nearest building instead, choosing instead to watch. The boy could look after himself. Even if he couldn't, Decker was nobody's babysitter, and Decker had his own things to think about right now.Ash drifts from the cherry of the cigarette, flaring orange before fading to grey, falling between his feet.
(james)
the whir of electic windows grabs his attention
for but a glance
there's more important things on his mind(ever get that itchy feeling?)
which he puts on pause for a moment more
glancing back to the truck
cracked window unleashing the army of smokey haze to crawl towards the sky
lips pursesomething's..... not..... right....
the Gnawer moves towards the alley at the end of the building
idly readjusting the sling across his shoulders
rebar rattling
you want me? come get me.(sal)
So, the kid was going to make this more difficult than it had to be. Fine. She had dealt with difficult fuzz-balls in the past and she assumed this wasn't going to be the last time. The tinted window whirrs softly again as it slides back into place and then the engine cuts off, leaving silence where there was a persistant hum prior. The shadow of the driver disappears almost out of site in the cabin for a few scant moments... then reemerges into sight, the driver's side door opening.Yeah, it was definately her. The loon that Decker had James beam over the head. Calm, cool, collected... it was a matter of how long that calm, cool, collectedness would last. After all, they'd stolen her babies. It was enough to make any good sociopath annoyed.
She closed the door behind her, flicking an almost finished cigarette away from her before locking the truck up. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and followed James, without a trace of uneasiness, into the alleyway.
(james)
above the smoke
above the interior
above the rampant stench most Garou claim the city has
there's a scenther scent
when you crown someone, you tend to remember something like what they smelled like
for future reference, and allthat was enough to send him into the alley
and he's waiting there allright
sling at his feet
shoulders at the wall
hands clasped neatly behind his back
easy smile on his lips"Fancy meeting you here."
(salome)
She was sporting the shiner that he'd graced her with the last time they'd been in close proximity. At that time they hadn't the chance to have that 'little conversation' he'd been going on about... now they were in the 'perfect' senario to get on with it. Even though it had only been a ploy. Although, in her head, yeah... they had something to talk about now. Such as him thumping her. Hardly impressed."Yeah, fancy that..." Her 'normal' neutral voice was low and thick like molasses, but that wasn't to say her speech was slow. There was even a hint of a born-and-raised british accent beneath all the americanisms.
It was stressful times like these that you need someone to be a confidante and her only female friend was deaf, so a phone call was out of the question and because she suffered from alexia, writing an email was stupid beyond reason. So there was no therapudic 'release' of emotion in a socially acceptable at hand... which made the situation all that more volatile (at least, for her).(james)
there's a bit of a chuckle at her tone
something is seriously going to go wrong
but he doesn't move from that easy lean
brows lifting a bit through a sheepish grin"I'd like to apologize for that...."
he must be talking about the shiner, right?
"..... it wasn't exactly what I had in mind for our conversation, but things got a little crazy.... and I'll admit it was a bad choice."
thing is
that's a genuine apology
he's fully aware women are just as capable of taking a punch as any man
so he doesn't feel bad about hitting her
he feels bad about making the choice to
hindsight always provides so many other options(imogen)
She pulls the cigarette from her lips, inspecting the fag thoughtfully, rolling the cancerstick between her fingers as she leans against the trunk of the car, eyes on the alley where James and Salome had disappeared. Slowly, she taps ash to the concrete, small grey flutters that fall to be obscured and lost against the grey of the concrete.(sal)
"I figure we can come to some resolution," a predatory smile that was creepy to normal humans because it wasn't at all... humane. Her idea of resolution, by her smile and tone of voice, probably involved something painful in his area."Keeping my babies, however, wasn't a real fucking good idea though." There was an... edge... to her voice now. One that spoke volumes on exactly how much willpower she was exerting towards not attempting to gut the percieved 'perpetrator' then and there.
(james)
"Babies?"the look
is utterly
blank"Look."
something in his tone flattens
he was already on edge
and accusing a Gnawer of wrongfully stealing..... anything.... was a generally bad idea
especially when he didn't
the flat edge in his normally warm tenor spoke of cabbages and kings and a wonder why he didn't crack her skull open last night to save today's insult"Whatever your babies are, I don't have them."
(decker)
(Decker didn't smoke cigarettes until Rune got him started. Corrupting the young!)Back against the wall, Decker watches the two disappear into the alley and then watches the empty two, three blocks between here and the riot scene. It's getting late. The area has been cordoned off and high-power lamps have been brought in, washing the area in blazing light as teams of specialists continue their work into the night. Half the cigarette burns into ash before Decker remembers to pull another drag off, coughing under his breath as half of it goes down wrong somehow. The motion topples a whole column of ash to the ground. If he tried, he could hear what was being said in the alleyway...he had always been blessed with good ears. That, and a good set of fists.
He doesn't listen, though. Wasn't his conversation, and he didn't particularly care. Instead, he walks over to the block of sidewalk James had crouched over and, after a moment, does the same. He pushes his palm to the concrete and tries to concentrate, but it's no secret that his spirit was weaker than that of most of his pack, especially here in the heart of the city. Nothing.
Letting the cigarette burn down a little more before taking the final drag off the last half-centimeter, Decker drops it on the ground. Rises. Crushes it under his scuffed boot over the one block of sidewalk.
One foot in front of the other, then: walking all the way back again.
(sal)
"I don't particularly care if you have them, or one of the others of your Three Stooges trio has them... I want my weapons back. Now. Tonight."This was why Ayla, even though she was deaf and hardly anyone understood her, had been the PR voice for her. If nothing else it stopped her from invoking violence just from speaking. However, it wasn't too hard to figure out she was referring to Decker and Imogen. They were all as guilty as each other, in her eyes... even if not returning her guns and knife had merely been an oversight. Stress and all that, right?
"Unlike some I don't have the benefit of pop-clacking nine shade of furry when shit hits the fan..." Considering her demeanor and fanatastic ability to piss people off with her charming personality, the shit probably hit the fan a lot around her.
(imogen)
As Decker approaches, her eyes trail over to him, watching as him as he stalks across the street, moving with that easy loose jointed laziness. Raising the cigarette to her lips, she inhales the last gasp so there is only the filter left, tossing the smoke at the curb, the ember shattering and dying.(decker)
His foot comes down on the rolling stub of a cigarette, crushing that one out too. Look up. "You goin' home?"
(james)
"Unlike some......"the words drip from uncharacteristic sneer
"...... who rely on threats, overbearing personality, or rapier wit to get their way, I prefer the lesser known tactic of civility and manner."
brown eyes narrow
he doesn't like her attitude
and there's little stopping him from changing it
he's already on edge from the lack of findings
this is all he needs
(little stress relief, boyo?)
growling"Ask me nicely I might consider it."
(decker)
Just a nod, terse as ever, as he circles for the shotgun seat. When she unlocks it, he gets in, shutting the door of the big ugly state-issue after himself. Saying nothing, he looks out the window in the vague direction of the alley - or perhaps that block of concrete sidewalk - that by-now-familiar crease crinkling between his eyebrows.(sal)
"And here I was under the impression that threats and overbearing personalities were the main characteristic traits of the Fuzzy Nation..." She smiles and it is far to pleasent to be real, especially since it, by no means, reaches her eyes. Gold eyes. Wolf-like eyes. Predator eyes."I thought you weren't into threats, little boy, or are you growling cause you're happy?" She drawls out the 'r' in growling, making the idea of doing such a thing seem almost... obscene.
(imogen)
She slides into the driver's side, the door clicking shut behind her as she turns her head to follow the trajectory of the Fenrir's gaze. An inhalation of breath, nearly speaking, before dropping it, whatever it was, sliding her key into the ignition, turning it. The engine purrs to life, the sound of it rough around the edges. After all, it's just state issued.A creak of the gears and she starts to pull away from the curb, dark eyes flickering from one side of the street to the other. It's empty. Has been for most of the time since the riot broke up. Down the street, to cross the mouth of the alley Salome and James had entered.
(james)
"Blame it on the moon."smirked
shrugged
finally pulling away from the wallnormally he's so damned mellow
tonight he's a hair pin trigger
just one. little. push.
and he'll go careening over the edgesteps halt just infront of her
hand still clasped behind his back
expectant
by no means unnerved by her little show
he bears scars from things far more frightening than an unhinged kin(sal)
And she bears scars from things more frightening than a moon-moody Garou... blame it on the moon... blame it on the dancers... it all came down the same thing... true anger that wells up deep down in the pit of your stomach and tries to claw its way up from inside, sticking in your throat like a choaking howl. The kind of emotion that tells you that if you start screaming you know you'll never stop.While he was walking towards her, she removed her hands from the deep recesses of her pockets. Metal glinted from her hands, but she made no (immediate) quick movement at the Bonegnawer. Mmm... silver plating... doesn't it just make your skin tingle as if a hand unexpectedly reached out and into you, tickling all the right spots. Well, maybe not for a Garou... but the feeling could be akin to such.
"Or not getting laid enough."
Which probably was a reason why some Garou were such pricks - they were angry by genetics and most, she'd seen, hadn't been getting enough of the good stuff. So you end up with too much pent up heat, rage, and natural testosterone... it was an abysmal situation.
(decker)
Silence. The taut, awkward sort, all over again. Then, as they're passing the alleyway, Decker sits up a little, half-grateful for distraction, half-annoyed at its source. "Stop the car."He knew his packmate. He could read the tension in James' body as easy - easier - than he could a book. Opening the door before the car had quite stopped, he rises out of the passenger's seat, one hand absently rubbing a niggling itch on his spine.
Into the alley: slow easy swagger, shoulder to shoulder with the Bone Gnawer. Doesn't say anything, though his eyebrow quirks up at Salome's latest witticism.
(imogen)
She has good reflexes, you have to give her that. As the the words are leaving his mouth, she's put her fot on the brake, pulling the car to a jerky stop, eyes jerking away from the road to stare down the alleyway. Garou tension is something a kinfolk learns to read as a survival method. She can see it well enough, her brow knitting for a fraction of a second as she glances at the stand off beginning to happen, "sonuvabitch" she breathes, though it's hard to say who, if anyone, she means.And now she's left with the question exactly what she should do know. One hand reaches up, out of habit, to drag through her hair, half undoing the bun in the process. She'll wait. At least for a moment or two. Long enough to decide whether it was worth waiting, or let them all duke it out.
(james)
something in his shoulders tightens at the silver glint
and Decker's approach from behind makes it real apparent what that movement was
wherever that easy smile hides, it's far far away from the sneer plastered across his face"And you're probably such a charming specimen of a woman because none of us has been out of our right minds enough to choose you, Kin. Now, are you through with the petty insults and cliche digs, or do you really want to start a match of brains and brawn?"
(sal)
"You be sure to tell my mate your opinion on his choice in the afterlife." She was well aware she wasn't the most charming person in the world, but hell... she'd been enough for a revered elder Fenrir, she wasn't gonna have her... hmmm... sexuality... dissed by a Bonegnawer."You know what I really want, Boy."
(james)
"Guess you weren't enough to keep him around in this world, were you."spat
you know, he's really trying to keep a hold of himself, but it's just not working, is it
there are days a Bone Gnawer simply can't ignore the insults
today would be one of them
and he can throw them just as good as anybody"I told you I don't have your babies, in case you didn't hear me before."
but that expression
THAT is what does it
five..... four......"Accept it. And get out of my face."
three.... two....
(decker)
He might've held James back. Might have. Until -Butt out.
Decker takes another half step forward. Slow. Easy. His shoulders move with the motion, muscles rolling under skin. His voice drops ten decibels. "Asked you a question, kinwoman."
(sal)
"Or what, you'll set your attack dog on me? That's nothing new..."It was a debate as to whether she was speaking to Decker or James with the question-come-statement. It always happened this way these days, though. She couldn't put her own volatile nature around that of her cousins and not have the sparks fly.
Maybe if Siophe was here...
Maybe if Ayla was here...
But they weren't. She was alone. She was outmatched. She was outweaponed (Stubby teeth, no claws). She was outmanned (two on one)...
But fuck it was an adrenaline rush. Makes all those happy places on you go almost squishy-like even...
(james)
one...that's it.
his fist comes out from behind his back
he'll make the bruises match
sorta.... he's going for her jaw this timelast night it was uncoordinated
tonight there's Rage
tonight there's all of his strength focused, and centered
tonight.... the Eagle's might guides his fistbitch should learn to watch her mouth
and if he knocks her jaw clean back into her brain it doesn't look like he gives a damn
because he knows he has the strength to do it(decker)
Split.
Down.
The.
Middle.The urge to destroy with the urge to protect. Instinct and greatest, fatal (heroic) flaw. Balanced between the two, torn, he says nothing - does nothing -
but he feels it.
James, calling on Eagle's might.Like that, it's decided. Moving - faster than James can (I outrank you, boy), the Modi turns and, with both hands, catches the downswing of James' forearm between his.
Christ. The strength of the usually so-mellow urban musician, augmented by their totem, buckles Decker to his knees - hard - with a short grunt. Quick as that he's back on his feet, six inches taller and quite a bit larger, showing his not-quite-human teeth in a silent snarl.
"Touch her and I'll crack you in half, Gnawer. Stand down."
...that's an order.(sal)
Either she was insane (more than likely), had balls of steel (or ovaries of steel, maybe?), or was stupid (debateable). Even when his hand had been raised, fingers balled into a fist, she hadn't flinched back (she'd blinked, naturally). She hadn't pulled away or raised a hand to defned herself.She'd been expecting to be thumped. Maybe even wanted to be hit. It was the latter that was the disturbing part of the whole thing.
"Vessel-of-Gaia's-Rage, my mate and former Jarl Sept of the Bleeding Heart, Caern of the Wounded Stag, Elder Modi of the Fenrir would be honored by your actions, Modi, but if the, what I assume to be, Bonegnawer feels he needs to take a piece out of me... well... I can accomadate him."
Hmmm... this is making it a little more formal than a mere pissing contest turned full on brawl. It also shows who the bonegnawing had been dissing when he'd said she'd been unfit to be taken, so to speak.
(decker)
His eyes are fixed on James', and the Bone Gnawer can see better than anyone the streak of wild light that blazes through the grey depths. Moon's one day past full, and Decker's walking a razor's edge. The words are a whiplash, a snarl, "You shut the fuck up, woman, and get yer ass gone."Before he let James go.
Before he turned on her himself.(james)
needless to say, there's quite a bit of shock as Decker catches the swing
for a lot of reasonstaking the Fenrir to the ground with the force isn't one of them
he knows his strength
he knows what years of weilding steel bars like toys can do
he knows what years of living on the streets can do
he knows what that Rage pumping and throbbing in his veins can do
he just normally hides it welleven though all of it was aimed at knocking her jaw clear through the back of her skull
at the move
at the command
it immediately disappearstaking the symbolic step back as the Modi stands again
trembling with the effort
but he does it
he doesn't have a choiceit's crystal clear he wants to tear her to shreds and Decker's the only thing that can stop him
not her words that have empty meaning to him
not her station that's foreign to him
not her sheer luck his packmate walked in when he did
just. his. packmate.(decker)
Exhale.A hand on James' shoulder turns the Bone Gnawer around, pointing him out of the alley and nudging him forward with a light shove. Rage is an instinctual, primal thing, spurred not by reason but by the innate destructiveness at the core of every Garou. It wasn't thinking about her that'd send James over the edge...it was looking at her. Listening to her.
Get him out of sight, out of earshot of the kin and it'll be fine. Get him out of sight, and then get himself out, too.
(sal)
There is still the Fang in her, even if she'd fit in easier with the angry-thump-things-a-lot Fenrir. She was born among the leaders, it was in her genetics. Her blood and bones. Blood always rings true, sometimes at the most inconvenient times. There was logic in insanity (that only the insane can percieve) and the insanity at this point was to drop the only advantage (however paltry) that she had.Clink. Clink.
The knuckledusters hit the cracked and muddied concrete of the alleyway.
"Between the Bonegnawer and I, Modi. Disputes need to be settled, one way or another, for the good of all."
If you fight among yourselves, if you set pack against pack, then you're doomed to fail - now or in the future, it didn't matter.
And this was the only link that remained, these days, between herself and her kind. Without the link, she may as well turn to the BSD for the feel of fur... to be another one lost to the war...
(james)
there's an all-too practiced sweep that snatches the sheath sling from the ground as they pass - he's fought more than he lets on - the near three foot rebar drumstick shoved back to join it's mate before the entire pack is slung back over his shoulderodd, he didn't swing that
he could havehearing her words
high words
Fang words?
Lord words?
he should havebut it doesn't matter now
the Cliath goes where the Fostern directs(decker)
When the Bone Gnawer is out of the alley - and only then - Decker turns back to the (insane!) kin. While he shrinks back into his homid form and even after, the silence for which he is named unfolds on and on, a yawning abyss of no-sound.His eyes are the color of flint. Of an ocean before a typhoon. Of stone. Finally, he takes a few steps toward her. Two inches away, two inches taller, he looks - as he always does - down his nose at her.
Quiet as the turning of the stars, "You wanna die, Silver Fang?"
(sal)
"I've thought about it more than you could know, Modi," by naming her Silver Fang, he just verbally broke what ties by tribe they may have had. But she wouldn't insult the Fenrir, as a tribe, blatantly. To do so would be an insult to Vessel and she had enough regrets there to begin with."But I won't give the Storm Bringer the satisfaction."
Storm Bringer... Bringer of Storms. Ik'Cha. Black Spiral Dancer of no little repute. Deadly. Cunning. Sadistic little fuck. How she hated him...
The question always was... would the Garou, her Family, give Ik'Cha the satisfaction?
(james)
once outside the alley - he doesn't even see Imogen's car parked right there - the Gnawer folds into one very pissed off, trembling, seething, angry, humiliated ball of Ahroun
crouched by the wall
head falling to rest against his knees(breaaatth..... deeeeeeply...... in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose....)
shoulders slumping
dreads spilling and splaying everywhere
this just hasn't been a good night
so he sits here, hopefully putting the night on pause, until his packmate comes out of the alley(decker)
"Then don't think to challenge a Garou on a full moon."Flat-out. Stone-cold. To be sure, he must have seen her pendant. If not that, he'd heard of it from Imogen. If not that, he'd heard Salome speak of her (dead) mate. But none of it matters, and the reasons he had - that the 'dispute' would be settled with her splattered all over the wall, that she couldn't hope to set herself as a physical equal to those she wished to - remain unspoken.
Silence holds.
A beat. Then, turning on his heel, the grey-eyed Modi follows his packmate out of the alley. Finding James just outside the mouth of the alley, he leans briefly against the wall - long enough to take his half-a-joint left over from Friday night out. Without a word, he offers it to the Gnawer.
(sal)
"I want my weapons back." Spoken to the back of the fenrir ahroun as he merely turns on his heel and walks back out of the alleyway to his companions. A truly nuetral voice in response to the none verbal slap in the face - to what little pride she had left deep down in a twisted core."I'm going hunting..."
And those three words sure sounded like she wasn't going out looking for small game fowl or chipmunks. Apparently having the Modi step in had humiliated two people tonight, although both were doing quite well to cover that fact up.
Decker would have to be a retard not to realize that Imogen probably held onto her weapons, considering it had been Imogen that had stripped her off them before cuffing her - under his orders.
(james)
it's...... several long seconds before that mop lifts from his knees
quietly reaching for the joint(which somewhere Decker sparked)
hiiiiit.
hold.
pass.(decker)
Turning, he looks the woman head to toe. A crinkle of his forehead as he looks away, narrowing his eyes to peer at the crime scene down the street. Framed by the alley, he's terribly young for a moment: a month from nineteen, and a Fostern. Already making decisions. Already responsible for the actions of others, when he couldn't even quite control his own.Better get used to it.
"You turn 'em on me or mine again," again?--he knew, "and Imogen'll be scrapin' you off the wall a week after."
He takes the joint back, sucks off a hit, holds, passes, exhales. Marijuana diffuses into the night. Turning away, he tosses the words over his shoulder. "She's got 'em. Ride with her 'n she'll give 'em back."
(imogen)
She pulls herself out of the car from the parked black behemouth, an ugly state-issued vehicle, leaning her arms on the frame of the car, the door left open.Chances are she heard what was up, and was simply waiting, dark shadowed eyes on Decker and Salome.
(sal)
"Promises, promises..."She knew he was serious, but sometimes you just have to open your stupid mouth and say... something... anything... to stop from doing something less forgiveable. Her eyes had closed down, her tone beyond nuetral... bordering on dead.
When was a person considered lost? When did you figure it was time to.... just give up?
Walking past the Fenrir, past the crouching Bonegnawer, she flicks her eyes - dead eyes, predator eyes - to Imogen.
"I'll follow you..."
She wasn't leaving her truck in this godforsaken place.
(james)
the Fostern.... month from nineteen
the Cliath..... hovering somewhere just on the other side of twentymaybe there's a reason for that
maybe it once again reared its ugly head
but it's shoved away in the organic taste smoking down his throat
silent save the inhale
the exhale
and the whisper of tattered fabric to fashion a quick roach clip from a discarded business card
and passes backSal ignored
pointedly(imogen)
A sharp nod acknowledges Salome as she speaks, remaining where she stands, while Salome walks toward the truck, only getting into the behemouth when the Fang reaches it.,(sal)
She reenters the black sleek shape that was her truck - she had some money stashed somewhere, that was for sure. The engine came to life and it rolled down the road towards Imogen's state car.(decker)
Imogen: eyes shadowed, cool and remoted. Locked down tight. Hair half-undone.
Salome: tall and predatory. Dead-eyed. Cold.A breath out when they vanish into their respective vehicles, and then he pushes away from the wall with a slight tenting of his fingers. "Fuckin' crazy bitch." A sniff, a rub of his nose, a jut of his jaw at James: the ubiquitous gesture. "You ridin' with me?"
(imogen)
As the truck rolls toward her, the state car roars to life and pulls away from the curb. Some eighteen hours after she left it, she heads toward 'home'.(james)
it's the actual words that bring his head all the way up
warm brown searching gunmetal graynodding with a stand
or
standing with a nodeither way
ready to roll
still silent
when you're put in your place, you tend to stay there for a little while(sal)
And... hell, who knew how long (she wasn't entirely sure, since she'd been unconcious some of the time) it had been since she first arrived at Imogen's house and left, she was returning there too...This time, for what they had neglected to return.
(decker)
So the two Garou pile into their truck, uglier than Imogen's, a lot less smooth-running that Salome's. After slamming the doors shut, Decker knocks it into gear and lurches away from the curb. Though the ultimate destination is more or less the same, he takes a different path, has a crappier car, runs into more red lights, and thus arrives later."So," breaking the silence of the road halfway through the drive, "hell'd she say to send you off?"
Hell didn't she say?
(james)
it's a car ride he spends most of looking out the window
not only because the fact he's in the car is still somewhat novel
it takes him a moment or two to weed through the dregs of red haze to find the answer Decker's seeking
quiet.... introspective.... familiar warmth considering returning to the tones"When a Gnawer is itchy cause all the rats are bailing ship, the last thing you do is accuse him of stealing."
especially after he makes a point to apologize to you
but he leaves that part out, it didnt matter anyway(imogen)
She pulls into the rather posh condo establishment and steps out of the state car. Without inviting the Fang/Fenrir in, she takes the stairs two at a time, unlocking the door.A few minutes pass and she returns, offering the knife and guns, complete with holsters to the Silver Fang kinfolk, silently.
(decker)
Another red light. Grinding to a stop after just missing the yellow, Decker curses under his breath, looks sideways at the Gnawer. "What'd you find under the sidewalk?"He doesn't pry about what Salome said any more than he has to. He wasn't a counselor, and James wasn't on the shrink's couch. It was over, and that was that. Taking the remnants of the joint over, he sucks off another hit and passes it back to James to polish off. The windows of the truck are rolled up; smoke recycles. They were going to be high as kites by the time they got home.
Even that only takes the slightest edge off their rage.
(james)
one Cochran braces against the dashboard
not out of disrespect, or that his bootprint would even show, he's just learned quickly
sliding to a grinding stop with the truck in that "I WILL relax" sort of slouch against the seat
moving on, now"Nothing."
the explanation pauses to polish off the roach
what's left doused in the ashtray to save for the gods, later
finally turning to look at the Modi through the slight hotbox haze in the cab"You know anything about rats, Decker?"
this.... he knows will take a little more than just nothing to make sense to the Fenrir
(imogen)
"You're welcome," courtesy returned where it's handed, she pauses for a moment to watch the silver fang kin depart. It's at that very second, as Salome starts to leave that it finally starts to rain.A drop, two, three. And then so fast you can no longer count, a deluge of cats and dogs that can soak you in seconds. And soaked she is, with a muttered eloquent course, turning and walking back toward the porch overhang of her condo; moving rather sedately. After all, there's no point in running, it won't get her any drier.
(decker)
Light goes green. Rain starts coming down, sparse drops falling from the sky to splat against the windshield. The wipers broke a long time ago, so Decker just leans forward to rub some fog off."What should I know, James?" - straight to the point, that.
(james)
he can't help the bit of a smile
he rather liked the to the pointness
when it wasn't particularly directed at him
but anyway"Rats are one of the ultimate survivors..... "
a bit of a pause, watching the rain channel down the dirty windsheild
how apropos a segue"....take for example when a ship begins sinking. They're the first to jump off and swim to shore. And one thing I didn't notice back there.... were rats. There were rats there yesterday. I couldn't find any of Mother's children when I went back tonight."
(decker)
A freeway. Eight lanes of concrete laid like a vein across the darkness. Red and white, disparities between the cars obliterated by rain, identities wiped away by darkness. Nothing but red on one side, white on the other, a hundred strangers united, if only for now, in speed and distance.Get on in Florida. Get off in Canada. Somewhere, someone's running from the cops after he killed his wife in a fit of jealousy. Get on at DC. Get off at New York. Somewhere, a mother visits her own mother. Get on at Jersey City. Get off in North Jersey. Two Garou speaking of rats and survival and wyrm and war.
Lives dovetailing, if only for a few moments. Lit by the dim glow of the dashboard and the flash of red from the car ahead, Decker wipes his windshield again as he peers through the rain. "Fuck," under his breath. "Oughta get Livin'ston or Nova to take a look. Talk to the spirits some, see what they have to say. Gabriel know 'bout this?"
(imogen)
Underneath the somewhat leaking overhang of her porch, she tilts her head upward to a stream of water. For all the fact she'd moved immediately out of the middle of the drive way, she rather enjoys the rain. She simply has the sense to do it without standing in the middle the lawn. Her neighbours alreadly have enough opinions of her, thank you very much.
(james)
there's a part of him tempted to draw glyphs in the steam of the window
just like they did when they were kids
seeking shelter from the rain in abandoned stores
the windows fogging up in New York's chilllong time ago
(fifteen years really that long?)his head shakes the thoughts away in a dance of dreads
"There's something just..... wrong..... bad mojo, something growing, something spiritually..... shifting... but I don't know what it is. We can bring Livingston back tomorrow, see if the place is still empty."
okay, dead is the word he'd perfer to use, considering such an absence, but he doesn't
"And not yet, I'll take him the information when I have something concrete."
he was already brought down here on a whim and suspicion
seems things never really change
wonder how things are back home
....backpedaling
Decker, James, Luc, Rune, Livingston, Erik
that would make one extra"Nova?"
(decker)
Nodding absently, half-lost in thought and half-lost in trying to see the road - which left little room for counting packmates - he replies, "Nova. In my last pack. Bone Gnawer Theurge."As the rain begins to come down with a vengeance, sheeting against the window and reducing the world to a blur of red and white, Decker curses and drops his speed by 20 mph and rolls down his window. Rain and wind and night lashes in. Heedless, the Modi sticks his head out to see, eyes narrowed against rain cold and sharp as needles, rain catching in incongruously long lashes.
"Crashin' in my room at Rune's," he raises his voice to be heard over the windnoise, "if you wanna meet her."
(james)
he just nods
relaxing does not include yelling over the wind and rain
so he settles in for the ride
eyes half closing
(he wouldn't relax that much with Decker driving)
just listening to the rain try to beat its way through the rusting roofnot really showing it would be an overjoying experience to find some Family in these parts
(imo)
By the time both have pulled into the parking lot (whenever that is) she's changed, and returned outside to smoke, a cigarette held between fingers as she sits on a lounge chair, watching the rain pour down in sheets, pounding against her roof overhang, spilling over the edges to drop onto her railing.(decker)
There isn't much dialogue for the rest of the drive. With Decker's nerves, with that moon, with that rain, James would have to be stupid or insane to distract the Modi. And James was obviously neither.When they peel off the highway with its thousand anonymous cars, the driver's side of the cab is soaked through. More mildew in the seats, more rust on the metal. No matter. Dashing rain out of his eyes and rolling his window back up, Decker slows to a sane 30mph as he navigates the last few roads into the condo lot.
Park the car, pull the brake, kill the engine. If James breathes a sigh of relief, Decker casts him a dark scowl. Shoving his door open, the Modi gets out, splashing into a puddle already two inches deep. When it rains, it pours: billowing curtains lashing through the air, driving into the earth. The paths were small rivers. Decker glances up at the balconies, consults with himself, and then tosses his keys to James across the hood of the old truck.
"Big brass one's the house key. Don't lose none of 'em."
(james)
if he's relieved, he doesn't show it
he doesn't need any more of that temper directed at him
course, after last night's little drive.... well....note. he has said. nothing.
a broadshouldered shove opening the passenger's door and beginning the slow to the bone soak of the Gnawer, keys caught without even really looking
the smile wry (or just stoned)
him. loose keys.
but they're pocketed
and we'll not mention he could get into any house without the proper keys
it's the gesture that counts
and he appreciates it
simply following til the appropriate turn takes him to the other condonow.... to drip on Rune's carpet and live through it.
(imogen)
She's turned off the motion detecter light, the brightness of the false orange glow irritating her after about three seconds. Sometimes, apparently, she likes the dark.The gloomy rainfilled night is broken by the orange ember of the cigarette, burning sullenly from her porch, casting orange red shadows across her face as she raises the cancer stick to her lips. Inhale, and the ember burns brighter, casting odd shadows across her face and hair, oddly near black as it hangs more than a little damp, more than a little out of control, in frustrating waves. Exhale, and the cherry softens, leaving her in near pitch all over again.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMOctober 19, 2002.10.19.02. - persuasion [salome-decker-others](james)
sometimes it's hard to tell just how long a person's been around
sometimes.... no matter how hard they try, people stand out, or, otherwordly, they blend in so well you just can't seem to get a sight on 'em
like these two, for instancetake one Bone Gnawer, sitting crossed legged and relaxed, paying little mind (or so it seems) to the commotion across the way, more intent on the consumption of whatever it is Carl's Jr has offered to the masses as some sort of oral satisfaction that's half the price of the name, light brown dreadlocks surrounding a satiated smile, tattered trenchcoat and second hand clothing that lets him blend into the fog of memory, at his right knee a pair of rebar drumsticks that earned the cash for the meal, at his left knee an almost empty paper bag
on the other side of the paper bag, the Fenrir, low-slung standing, surly, and taught no matter how apathetic he seems, if it's a smile its a scowl, where there is ease he brings tension although muscular shoulders slouch against the brick wall, where his comrade is shaggy and tattered this one is shorn clean and miminal and to the point.... just like a blade
they share something
and it's not just the meal
something that makes them belong in the contrasting picture
right there, on the corner
as if they've always been(salome hawke)
She extracts the lighter from Imogen's hand... snick-snick... a small flame appears and she touches it to the end of the cigarette caught between the finger od her other hand and her lips. She inhales deeply, letting the flame vanish and holds the item back out to Imogen as she exhales slowly.Normally she wouldn't indulge in her craving for cigarettes, but occasionally, you had to be kind to herself and at the moment, alone in the world so to speak, she didn't have any other crutch.
God knows, if she got drunk she'd probably end up in the lock up for shooting someone who happened to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.
(system)
The shadows of the city were always alive. If you knew where and how to look you could find the remenance of what lay beyond.
Death had been high in the recent months, and there were those who would feed upon such things. Those from the dark which would take power from the death and chaos of lifes passing.(decker)
One looks almost exclusively at his meal. Burger and fries, and a tall coke. Life doesn't get much better than this for a Bone Gnawer. The other is on his feet, back against one brick wall plunged into a thick concrete wrapping, a little brightly-colored carton of fries ridiculous in his hand. Likely he wouldn't be able to tell you if he'd been eating fries, curly fries, or deep-fried grasshoppers if they suddenly disappeared out of his hand. He looks left, he looks right, his eyes follow a girl into the Carl's Jr. and a middle-aged man out, never staying in the same place for long.So what is it that binds the two? What common thread could there possibly between shaggy street musician and close-cropped street thug?
Some ties are thicker than blood.
Upending the carton, Decker tumbles the last few fries into his open mouth and then wads the cardboard up, launching it at the nearest trash can. He misses. At least now he knew he didn't miss his calling for the NBA. Down the street, a crime scene. Someone else is dead. Chewing, Decker eyes the commotion for a minute. It's an overcast day, the bright silvery sort, but his eyes automatically squint into the distance, well-accustomed to the all-pervasive light of the southern backwaters he grew up in.
A swallow. Slurp. Coke, running out. Swallow again, and then Decker straightens, walking over to the trashcan this time to dunk it in. Coming back, wiping his hands on the seat of his low-belted pants, "Almost done?"
(system)
Slipping through the dark, laying under foot the darkness rose and fell like the evening tide. The energy of the kill, the sweet taste of deaths touch. It fed upon the pain, it reveled in the memory. The banial energy was growing... but it was cautious. They felt the presence of the warriors and knew they would need be careful this night.
(imogen)
For a lack of anything to do, she simply remains where she is, smoking the cigarette slowly, the combined carcingenic fumes staining the smells of the air. Her attention has half turned toward the crime scene again, eyes narrowing slightly as she watches a police officer holds back the line, while others, dressed similar as she was, though many had jackets stating 'Forensics' and not 'OCME'.There is no shortage of jobs in the career of death. There are more than a few. Looking for a shell casing. A hair. Whatever it is they need this time.
(sal)
The movement of extending the lighter back to Imogen exposed the butt of a gun nestled into a shoulder holster, previously hidden by the leather jacket that hung mid-thigh. She was a little more than unhappy to not be wearing her usual brown suede, but thanks to a certain fuzz-ball, it was somewhat out of commission. For years it had survived god knows how many grotesque situations, but somehow Luck of the Jacket finally gave out and the splatterings of dry blood had become a psychiatrists wet-dream of an ink-blot test. Damn, fucking fuzzies...(sal)
She appeared completely unaffected by the whole ordeal occuring down the road. One dead body was pretty much the same as the next, just mode of death was different and once you've seen a few garou rip chunks out of to-be corpses, seeing someone dead by asphixiation, for example, isn't really that cheer-raising."How'd this one get bumped?"
She didn't particularly care if Imogen wished to share, which she doubted she would, but it filled in the hum of 'silence' around them with something other than street noise.
(gabriel thunder oak)
The smell of death, the smell of people, the creatures of the night and those of others...
This is what caught his attention as he begins to move around behind the line casting his gaze no longer toward the crime scene but to the darkness that abounds from everywhere. Almost with a scowl he fights back the urge to rage against the closing minions of the darkness.Under his breath he whispers a word... rage filled thickly accented irish...
"Banes...."
(james)
burger
fries
coke
cheeeeeze
he's learned to appreciate the little things in lifeby the time Decker returns from the game-winning slam dunk he's licking the remnant flavors of burger, sauce, fries from his fingers, brown eyes glancing up.... he..... doesn't even bother offering a napkin
chin drops in a nod
dreads dance on his shoulders in stretching rise
trash rolled into the bag a deposited in the bin - Oh, Galatea
and the rebar sticks shoved into a sheath which hangs off a shouldersometimes, communication needs not a sound - some ties are thicker than bood - just a glance
ready when you are
(system)
Rising from the streets and from the dark a cold breeze runs down the streets, across the forms of man and beast, down the path of wilderness, over the bodies both dead and living. The shiver of unknown power and abilities ride the wind, as those who can sense it and have the gifts to understand it will know... more than death hangs on the night.(decker)
And this time, when James returns from his own score, Decker's frowning, his grey eyes scanning the street back and forth before - as though drawn by a lodestone - fixing in the same direction Gabriel looked from a block and a half away. The Modi's hands are loose at his sides, but the hair on his arms, on the back of his neck, stands on end. In another second, he starts walking - a steady pace, neither fast nor slow.He doesn't say anything to James.
He doesn't need to.(james)
there's a frown
chillwhen you grow up in the city, and know its feeling like you know your own..... well..... you tend to get that itchy feeling when a murder is more than a murder and darkness is more than darkness as it becomes a force to be reckoned with..... literally
at least they didn't let it ruin their meal
not a word between them
he hasn't known Decker long, but he knows that look
the Gnawer isn't more than a half step behind(st)
to Decker Rohl, James: The darkness is the natural shadow cast by everything. The spiritual energy of the banes moving through the dark just allows a visual pathway to where they would travel.(imogen)
She nods her head toward the scene, as she blows smoke past her lips, the cigarette burned down to a mere inch from the filter, "Gunshot wound to th' head." She replies matter-of-factly, "and another few to his gut just to make sure the job was done."An off handed nod toward Sal, her eyes flickering toward where the gun rests, "Better get a better jacket."
(gabe)
Looking around the senses of the gifts of Gaia flow around him as the mortal population for whatever reason continue to move away from him. Slowly he looks into the surroundings he finds himself enveloped in. Noticing the two forms of the Gnawer and the Fenris he takes only a moment to pass on to something else. In his own mind it was good to see they were there, but his focus was not on meetings tonight, his thoughts were focusing in on that which moved beneath and around the veil of the senses.His eyes look around, darting quickly as the spiritual energy moves like a hunting pack, circling and moving with dedicated purpose but erratic and disturbing to the prey.
It was all he could do to hold back the growing growl within him as he gritted his teeth and the look of vengance and death radiated from him as he focused in on the presence of the wyrm which began to surrounded the area as well as him.
(st)
Whispers... silent calls to those of the dark. Ringing messages to the truely tainted. It was like a song of such beauty as they approached. Those that could hear would swear that it was the dark angelic voice heralding a new beginning."Sweeeeeeeet.....
Deeeeeaaathhh....
Surrrrrrrrender...."(decker)
At the edge of the sidewalk, Decker doesn't slow, though he does flick a glance either way. No use getting run over. Never let glory get in the way of common sense: heroes are the first to die.Halfway across the street, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a springloaded knuckle-knife. Snick. The four-inch blade swings into place, but he knows he won't really need it. It's all just habit.
Park the car twenty blocks away and walk to the fight.
A glance for Gabriel, acknowledging the presence of the elder. On instinct, he moves to guard the Fianna's right flank, still half a block behind. It doesn't matter that there was no Caern here, no Sept here; it doesn't matter that he might not even like Gabriel very much. When shit goes down, they're Garou before they are men.
Quarter-block to go, and Decker squeezes his free hand into a fist. Knuckles pop; he shakes it out again, rubs it over the back of his neck, and quickens his pace by a notch.
(sal)
She raises an eyebrow again with a vaguely bemused expression and looks from the woman and down at her jacket, which is, once again, again covering anything suspicious."I'll give it due consideration."
In most states she had a permit to carry, considering her occupation, but most of the time, unless the police were snooping, she didn't sweat it.
She shifts against the brick wall, looking up and down the street with a bland expression again and notices, belatedly, Decker in the distance.
Oh joy. Oh rapture.
Well, at least he seemed to be walking fine now. Maybe one day she'd find out whether he was just a bug-nuts ahroun, or a stupid one as well... and whether or not he held a grudge.
She had given him a warning shot... the BSD hadn't been that lucky.
(sal)
"This looks promising..."She had fully moved her attention onto Decker and then James who seemed to be tagging along with the grumpy, mal-adjusted Fenrir. There was something about an impending fight when Garou were known to be around that make the air thick with tension, excitment and probably soon enough... violence.
And violence was fun...
(gabe)
Seeing the form of Decker the nod was quickly returned as he senses all of a sudden picked up beyond him...Stepping off the path toward the walkway of the street he cast a look down toward the other pair. The darkness hid enough but the light of the street illuminated enough to see that which he needed. The stench of the minions were heavy upon that one...
His gaze was heavy and harsh as he looked out over the distance.
(james)
while there's a steady, ground covering, pointed, seething stalk to the Fenrir's movementsstill, the Gnawer hasn't lost his easy charm
lopey gait devouring ground just the same
lower lip nibbled in a bit of thoughtno.... not yet, Jamey boy
there's a quirk in his expression that says "Gabriel, how delightful to see you again." but the silence prevails save the relentless march of boots on concrete
a bit of a half-step to the left
rebar leaves its sheath, one stick held tucked against his arm, hidden alongside the length of tattered sleeve(st)
"weeeeeeee seeeeeeee youuuuuu"The voice continued to grow as it now had a second, then a third to join with it.
The chours began to grow as the scent of death and the darkness beyond began to converge upon the scene... calling to those who would listen. Beconning those to come to the aide, and have their fun.
(imogen)
"Oh, I'm sure you will." And this passes for a civilized conversation, now seemingly ended.Neither of them have the senses to feel the chill, that feeling that causes gooseflesh to rise and hair to stand on end, but they can both very well recognize Decker as he crosses the street, and Imogen has seen this packmate often enough to recognize his dingy slouch as he walks beside him. An eyebrow lifts just slight as she glances toward the building and busier-than-usual sidewalk. A faint noncommital snort replies Salome's comment. Gabriel is regarded for a moment.
(decker)
Leave it to the Fianna to look for babes when banes were encroaching......but the slash of the Elder's eyes that way draws Decker's by instinct, and a sudden scowl slant over the Full-Moon's brow. Fuck. Back to the Athro as he comes up on his right side. A jerk of his head in the direction of the kinfolk. "Spare someone to guard 'em?"
(gabe)
Nodding to James as he approached he didn't need to say much. His eyes were still locked down the street from them toward the reaking emination of death and wyrm. But as the wind slowly began to cry out it's own tones in the dark he was taken back to the task at hand.Irish accented...
"The darkness abounds this eve, and one down the walk reaks of the depths."
(sale)She'd spent time mated to a grouchy (albeit more controlled) Fenrir Ahroun; she read the tribe well enough and there is something instinctive inside that lets those 'in the know' be aware when the fuzzies have a purpose.
She is probably glad that she didn't hear Decker's comment or she'd show him exactly how much she believed she needed guarding... By shooting him in the leg... AGAIN...
(sal)
She tilts her neck to either side, listening to the distinctive sound of her neck cracking. She crosses her arms, one hand sliding under her jacket nonchalantly and the other hand, still with cigarette smoking, just out of the way, but close enough that she unconsciously can rub at her midrift and the scar tissue beneath her black t-shirt."You know 'em?"
(st)
Suddenly the wind stopped... the breeze of cold wintery air fell to the ground and in its wake was only silence.Yet it was the darkness that seemed to invest the truth. Those that could see the spirits of the world would go nuts right now. For surrounding the young women where distinctly now 4 spirialing black voids.
Dancing from shadow to shadow as three of the forms seemed to slowly circle and almost pass through the young Get Kin.
"Hhhheeeeeeeeeeear Usssssssssss"
The dark silvery tounge of twisted metal and death. Attractive to some, hell to others. Those already who had been set upon the precapus of the abyss and seen into it also have had it see into them. And the worlds are never again the same.
"Kiiiiiilllllll themmmmmm. Freeeeeeeeeeee Yourrrselfff"
(imogen)
They're too far away to hear well enough, hardly close enough to even recognize that they're speaking. But they are speaking. The cigarette is tossed aside, thrown aside to splatter faint flickers of embers and ash as the cherry scatters. She nods her head slightly, "I know two o' 'em. Th'skinny one and tha younger one. Th'third, I've never met before," resigned tones, that she knows them at all.Mercifully unaware of the black voids that surround the woman she speaks to, she simply watches the trio, eyes narrowed to blue triangles.
(james)
there's little more than a glance down the way
outranked, and probably out-classed
the Gnawer knows his position in this pretty well
so just waits(gabe)
The gifts of spiritual sight are few and far between. Some are gifted with it, others learn it, some few are born with it. In any event the rise of anger and rage all of a sudden became VERY apparant as the wind dies and the darkness almost in some places begins to take a mind of its own.Memory of the abyssal darkness that had taken so many camps, so many caerns, and so many lives raced through the Elder Fianna as he cast his whole intense stare down toward the Kinfolk.
"They are there... there are now four... Where the others are I know it not. But be aware... there is a light stench eminating from one of them."
(sal)And for a moment a thought crosses her mind that perhaps it would make her feel a little less touchy, a little more alive, if she just shot Decker (for principle's sake, of course). She'd been nice the first time, seeing as that he was kin-tribe with her deceased mate, and only ruputured the flesh of his thigh with silver... but he was presenting a much more... palatable target at the moment.
Her thumb stroked her midrift harder, a familiar psychosematic pain winged along the edges of the scar tissue riddling her stomach.
It was their fault... all of them... damn them...
Her fingers, under her jacket, slowly stroke the butt of her gun as she watches the trio, two which are confirmed Fuzzies and one she assumed, by being with the other two, was also.
(st)to MULTIPLE: There if that don't clear it up I dont know what will. We got 4 definate banes, and probally a couple others floating around near the courps. And a smell of wrym taint though be it slight coming from the direction of the girls.
Everyone straight now? Good... let's have some mass chaos in the middle of a crime scene... with police and people, and news crews. *sigh* God i'm evil sometimes.
(decker)
The fuck? Decker casts Gabriel a sharp glance, and then one to James. "Peekin'," he says to the latter, simply enough, reaching out to lay a hand on his packmate's shoulder. The message is unspoken, but clear enough - watch my back while I'm looking.The Modi's eyes go blank. Standing in place, he turns in a slow circle, then closes his eyes and gives his head a quick shake to clear it. Bringing up a hand to massage his temple, he lets go of James' shoulder.
"There all right," he says, low. "Can only see four but these fuckers don't ever travel alone. Risk crossin' over?"
(imogen)
Her eyes move away from the trio of full bloods, Gabriel made guilty by association, even if she doesn't know him, toward Salome as the woman stands there, broodingly, her hand inside her jacket. A frown flickers and then is composed as one hand slides to the back of her jeans, hooking a thumb to the waist band.(gabe)
He takes the look in stride, not worried about anything but the task at hand. Casting a look around there were still a great many people around."This many folk shall bring with it a nasty battle... many more powerful enemy than these four sure be it.
Two choices... take the fight to them, or get what seems their target and bring the fight to where we can take it.
Choice is yours lads, this is your packs area."(sal)She flicks the smoldering cigarette butt away from her with more force than was perhaps needed, not watching as it spiralled away onto the road. Among their families posture spoke volumes to their eyes, when scent brought them diddily-squat (unscented). There was a vibrating tenseness that thrummed through her posture and she wasn't quite so casually leaning against the wall anymore.
She was slipping into a mood that read that she wasn't all that happy with the situation anymore. Something was just wrong about standing on a footpath staring down the way at a trio of Garou that seemed primed for a fight and staring at the two of them.
Slowly... gradually... like water being poured from a glass... the humanity captive in her eyes faded... and the white place, the soundless place, the place where your conscience takes a holiday, filled her.
It was what made life bareable...
(james)
there's a sound, a breath, a low grunt of acknowledgement
just maybe.... there's granite beneath that easy countenanceand while Decker peeks, he watches
the streets
the crowd
the kinSal standing
now, when you've been on the streets as long as he has, you get those itchy feelings that we were talking about earlier
you get used to things
like that moment when someone has their hand tucked inside their coatloaded?
he doesn't know
he doesn't want to find out the hard way
suspicion narrowing his eyes"Whatever it is, we don't make the decision here."
a glance to Decker, and to Gabriel
we move, now, no matter the direction
weight shifting to drift and mingle behind a passing crowd of onlookers
he can watch, but they aren't in direct line of fire.....(st)
"Killllll themmmmmmmmm. Take nnnnnot the ennnnnemy fight backkkk against thossssse whooo hurttt you."With every moment the voices become more and more clearer to those who could listen.
The shadows swirling and twisting around the two, unseen by damn near all slowly begin to grow in size as the energy and the moment lengthens.
(sal)
The whispers were taunting and she hated to be taunted... the fuzzies always picked on the weaker... or what they percieved to be the weaker. Didn't matter what side of the coin they were on, they were always on a little power-trip in one way or another...But the words, the impication, also mocked themselves. The scar tissue itched on her stomach and her brows knitted into a frown of both confusion and for a moment pain.
Mentally, one side abused her. Physically, it had been the other.
It was a toss up, of late, to figure out who she hated more. Her family or their enemies.
(decker)
Thanks, Gabe. That meant the decision fell to him, ranking member of the pack here - even if Gabriel's suggestion was pretty much spelled out for him. Decker's brow creases into a burgeoning scowl. He kneads his temple another moment, then drops his hand to his side, grimaces. "She got me off the street after some fucker shot me full'a silver."It's an old-west standoff. Decker's eyes are narrow and gunmetal-grey, fixed on the two kin each reaching for their own choice of weapon. He had a good guess what Imogen's would be, if and when she decided to pull it.
Hell, he fuckin' gave it to her.
Another moment he deliberates. Finally, "I don't got no wyrm-sensin' skills. We're flyin' blind by yer word, Thunder Oak. So if yer sure - I say we get her, avoid a fuckin' catastrophe. But keep it easy."
(gabe)
"Aye... we'll have to remedy that problem as well. Especially if your pack chooses to remain here near the city. But agreed, we get the kin and move to safer ground. Should the enemy follow it will be on our terms not theirs... and we should hurry... they are gaining in strength it seems."(imo)
She waits. She can wait through many things, and it seems this is one of them, even when she has no clue what would happen when all things went loose.It isn't the banes that make Imogen's hair stand on end, it's that look on Sal's face when her soul shrivels into a corner where it won't have to face this.
Waiting, her heart beat counting the seconds. She'd told him when he gave it to her she didn't know how to use it. But if it came to that, there's no doubt she would pull it and use it as best she can. If it came to that.
(decker)
Decker exhales through his teeth, and then nods at his packmate. "C'mon, James."He was smart about that much, at least. James had a far sweeter tongue than Decker did. Clicking his knife away, Decker starts down the street toward the kinwomen.
(nova)
A thin, rather unhealthy-look... feral dog with wolf ancestory?... slinks out of an alley and falls into step about 7 feet from Decker, keeping her nose to the air.(sal)
With violence comes pain... with pain comes pleasure... a twisted little merry-go-round twirling slowly in her demented mind... She'd definately gotten her genetics worth when it came to dementia. The Good Fuzzies had been cruel about it all, the Bad Fuzzy had made it an addiction... pain, violence, anger... it was like a drug that surged through the system like adrenaline. The ultimate high... the big ol' turn-on... the only reason not to fully withdraw from Garou society; big, bad Garou boys can take damage, regenerate and then keep the party going all night.There was nothing remotely humane in her eyes now. They were dying, then dead... she could kill a whole pack of Garou (okay, maybe in a dream only) in this state and she'd never regret one pull of the trigger.
(gabe)
Slowly the Elder followed... allowing the packmates to take the lead and handle this the way they saw fit.~How else would they learn...~ he thought.
Yet his eyes fell for a moment to the second woman. He hadn't thought about it till now but when he cast his gaze down, full of rage and wrath she took it in stride and did not flinch as others would, and in fact as he stared for a few moments he caught himself smiling as he realized there was more to this one than he first thought. The signs of heritage and pure breeding showed a bit as he put it aside for now... his mind instantly back to the job at hand and the burning hate which welled within.
(sal)
The closer the trio - no, now foursome - came to her and Imogen the more she looked like she would either pull down on them or turn and walk away. She didn't look - how to put it - receptive... of their attentions at the moment.
(st)
The flurry of spinning forms pause as the now four, equal in numbers starts down on them. Three, perhaps.... two... definately... but four... these odds were looking bad.
Yet in this moment something happened... the four slowly began to meld and merge... solidifying like liquid into a solid puddle... a solid form of the void beyond.And if the voice sounded sweet and like honey before it was now sacrin and ever so sweet...
"Like razors through flesh, anger through pain... Vengance is release!"
The voice now clear in the mind of those who could hear and who listened. Their target was she, and she was their instrument... the choice was all but made, and the now single form reveled in it.
(decker)
Oh, he sees the moment the realization sinks in for Gabriel, all right. Somewhere in the back of his mind, all his hackles had been raised waiting for it. In the end, though, all he does is slide his hands into his pockets and - casual, apathy laid like insulating rubber over the live wire of rage - spits sideways through his teeth.A pass of his eyes over the scrawny feral dog. Recognition? Some. An upwards nod. He purposefully slows his pace, letting James take the lead. Show was the street musician's...until it went bad, at least.
Grey eyes on Imogen's blues. Unreadable as she is, he gives her the same up-jerk of his chin. "'Sup Imogen."
(sal)
Between the two women, standing so near to each other, a Garou would have to be dead not to notice the sheer amount of silver carried between the two of them. It was a tangy, hair-tickling feeling...And who wanted to bet that the dead-eyed Fenrir-Fang was the one carrying the most?
(nova)
She growls slightly, the only way to communicate in her present form without attracting attention from the wrong people. Damn, she hated not being able to talk...
Getting an idea that she doubted would worked she stopped and rubbed her paw furiously up and down her muzzle.(james)
oh, great, we're heading towards the one that seems to be loadedbut he doesn't question it, does he
not even a split second passes before he's following his packmate's lead
heading towards the kinwomen
heading towards what could possibly be very painful
heading towards what could possibly be very fatalall in a day's work
(what the HELL is he going to say? think James think)
a sideways glance to the strange dog that suddenly appeared..... well hello there.... you look familiar.....
but everything is pushed away when he can focus on Sal's face (....shit) and the Gnawer takes a quicker step than the others (once a Hood....) quick enough to focus her attention but not enough to force her to draw...... and it's here the street performer comes out in full bloom
"I..... desperately.... need to have a word with you, and while I know she's on their side I think you're the only one that can settle the dispute fair and square as an unbiased observer. So would you mind.... stepping over here with me..... just for a moment?"
yea, big bad Bone Gnawer, she's got a lot to fear from him
(imo)
She's good at unreadable; either the emotions are so hidden she keeps them from showing, or they are so slight (ice queen) that you would never notice them anyway. She turns away from Sal for a moment to glance at Decker, blue on grey, her lips twitching in a smirk, that belies the fact she has yet to decide what was going on."How's it goin', Rohl," replying as a greeting rather than an actual question. Her voice lilts with british-scottish undertones. Definitely european. Silver here, too, and between the two, they must make a small pocket of that itchy feeling that Garou get when near their most deadly enemy.
It's easy to guess who packs more. Just look at the look on Sal's face.
Eyes move toward James as he speaks, a coppery eyebrow lifting just ever so slightly.
(gabe)
Looking down as the now four moved he noticed the newest member to join up with them. Strange how so many choose to stay in the city.As he closes in the tell tale tingle of silver reaches out to him. The casual smile crosses his face for a moment before he pulls it back. Pausing as the Gnawer speaks, the scent of taint is much stronger now that he is this close. And it is light, casual contact or minor blemmish of sort but it is true enough he stares at the Young kin he remembered from the woods that one night. The truth was right in front of him and he only waited to see how things would play out.
(sal)
Her eyes slide very slowly from Decker, whom has had much of her dead-look attention up until now, and land on James. Her expression appears to be on the border of saying "fuck off", but she manages to hold onto some of her fang heritage... for the moment. If he pressed the issue, would she shoot him for the sake of making him shut up? Maybe. Who knows. She was a kin that carried silver. With that look, she would possibly be willing to use it on her own."I'd rather not."
Her eyes drop from James to Nova and she stares at the mutt and then gives something akin to a snort.
"I think you're dgod's had too much crack, kid." Obviously she was still speaking to James, since her eyes, her dead,dead eyes, flick back to the younger Fuzzy.
(decker)
One ear on James, not nearly the performer he was and not nearly the blank mask Imogen could be, could be, was not always - his manner is half-distracted at best. A pause before he speaks; he sends the mutt a (lazy) sideways look. Easy.Back to the Fianna kin - something that's rather hard to forget now, what with the Fianna Athro right behind him. He casts a look over her shoulder and nods at the crime scene: "Workin' late again?"
(nova)
She makes a slight huffing noise.
This bitch has the wrong family member.
Nothing really pressing happening in front of her, she looks around for some source of reflection. It's fairly obvious that no one is taking care of the spirit-side of things.(james)
that easy grin spreads
(yes, when looking death in the face, he smiles.... there is something very wrong here)
chuckling"Careful.... she may decide to piss on you with comments like that. Some mutts can be touchy that way, you know...."
he leans in a little
confidentially"Look, give me a minute of your time, allright? Because even if you shoot me, there's three others that will have you drug and down before you can recover from the recoil. And I really need you to answer this question for me."
now while he's not sure what contains the silver that's sending yet another itchy feeling up his spine
he can smell the gun oil
yep. she's loaded.((using persuasion, sal's player cool with just going with it and no roll))
(imo)
One hand still stays casually thumbed toward the back of her jeans, between the jacket and untucked blouse, it's hard to pinpoint exactly where as half her attenton remains on Salome and James, while she answers Decker, "I was." A faint twitch of her shoulders a careful shrug, "I don't seem to be needed anymore."(decker)
"Yeah." Such a simple conversation. More than one thread of tension pulls taut just beneath the surface. "Should probably get outta here- " - breaking off suddenly, he barks at the 'dog', "No! Nova! Heel!"Likely the Bone Gnawer was going to bristle at that, but he was damned if he was going to let her across to face the four banes he saw - and christ knew how many others he couldn't - alone.
(gabe)
The words are harsh... he knew most kin were looked down upon as being lesser in many ways to the true blooded Garou of the tribes, but perhaps his family was different in a way. That or he just hated seeing people treat the only hope of the future like they were possessions and property instead of who they really were.
In any event he stood, casting a glance to the ferel one and back again...(sal)
Her brows knit together in what seems to be a frown like something was penetrating that pure white sound - the white place - the source of calm at her very center. She gives something that is quite a fair immitation of a growl deep in her throat before she gestures to James with the hand that had been pressed against her stomach rubbing at it through her t-shirt."Fine..." She didn't sound happy, but she wasn't shooting him, so that was a bonus. Besides... why shoot a kid, when there was a Fenrir first in line for the honor?
She then shifts a guick look to Decker's outburst towards the mutt, before settling unnervingly on James once more.
(sal)
She does not, however, slide her other hand out from under the leather of her jacket... she wasn't completely stupid... and she was really paranoid.(nova)
She ducks in startlement, skittered away a few steps.
Nobody ever understands what I'm doing.
Sneering slightly, she looks around again for any non-icky spirits that might be around.(imo)
Such a simple conversation. It's easy to hold them and keep your eyes and ears on something else.She perhaps would have replied something, had he not interrupted himself to yell at Nova. As it is, she doesn't answer him, watching as James starts to lead Sal away.
(st)
slowly... ever so slowly the spiritual energy of the place was shifting. Darker and darker it was becomming as the newly charged and joined one began the low call to the world. Summoning those that could hear,... calling to those that would listen.In that instant down the street several blocks in the same moment two lamp posts popped their lights.
Darkness was growing and it was beginning to slowly draw the attention of the mortal populas as well.
"KILL HIM AND BE FREE!"
Posted by james at 12:00 AMOctober 13, 2002.10.13.02. - you can't always go home [imogen-sterling][north jersey]
(imogen)
Today, her pager has yet to go off. As the hours passed and started to tilt past the regular time where bodies are found in daylight, as rooms are checked or smells are investigated, she worked out her day, and really, considering her hours it is still early when she departs from the bar, fingers digging into her eye sockets trying to relieve the burn of fatigue within.Worn and loved hiking boots whisper against the concrete as she steps onto the street, hands sliding into the pockets of faded jeans, curved across her hips and flesh. Thumbs hook into belt loops and a careful shake of her head dislodges curling and rioting red hair from her eyes. A black tank top is visible through the opening of a short suede jacket, meshing easily with her almost rustic apparel. The pale featured almost elfin-faced female is attractive, and her steps are easy and quick as she begins to walk down the street.
She hadn't had all that much to drink, really. She'd gone in for the ambience; the fact that the whiskey was alright had simply been an added bonus.
It's nearly midnight on Jersey's streets, and the orange glow of the street lights catch the faint mist that hangs in the air. It's sogging. The rain doesn't quite fall, it certainly doesn't pound, and it's definitely not raining cat's and dog's. The mist simply hangs there, seeping through hair and clothing and glistening against skin; too wet to be called fog, and to light to be a good downpour. It's rather melancholy in a way, muting all the sounds to whispers of tire against concrete. On the plus side it's kept some people home. Folks can be right wimps about rain, when you get down to it. She's one of the few people walking down the orange lit street.
(james)
there's tender moments of idle relaxation in every man's life
sometimes they're just a little harder to find than others
but this time, our boy's lucked outstreet's quiet
no gunshots, no sirens, no fears
a little dampness
but when you've slept outside in the NY snowstorms, a little dampness doesn't hurt
the glow of the streetlamps almost makes sort've an ambiance
a little glow here and there in the near fog
anyone in their right mind would be inside to avoid getting a chillnice and quiet
just a Gnawer stretched out on the sidewalk, leaning up against a wall, idly munching on a cheeseburger plucked from the McDonald's sac resting beside his BDU covered thigh
(imogen)
It's quiet, almost oddly so, the city having decided to cozy up inside (whether inside was a door way, or one of the over priced condos) rather than make trouble, or simply loiter around. It's not quite peaceful, simply enclosed, somehow the air seems thicker, closer, the city leaving it's mark against your skin along with the misting rain.The hiss of her steps halts as she catches sight of the prostrate man against the wall, not because there was simply someone there, but because he was who he was. Eyes narrow faintly, before she inhales, slowly, pulling the edges of her jacket together and beginning to walk purposefully toward him. Seconds later, the pale skinned woman stands before the bone gnawer, staring down at him.
"There were none of your prints found in tha room. What I have has been destroyed," she declares without preamble, shifting lightly from one foot to another.
(james)
now that's.... nothing out of the ordinary, is it
being looked down upon
but out here on the streets - while he's the same man she met last night - he seems completely different
damp, dirty, utterly exposed out in the open, this is his elementand those dark brown eyes lift from beneath those light dreads
the glisten of waterdroplets reflected in the deep down genuine sparkle contained in them
the easy smile spanning his features accompanied by a nodcool
"Cheeseburger?"
the bag lifted in offer
(imogen)
Instinctively she does not like him. Unlike what most might think (a pure bred gal like her, after all...) it has nothing to do with his tribe, or the fact his element is damp and dirty.It's something else.
After a moment, she simply sits with her back against the wall, taking the bag, pulling out a cheese burger, offering the bag back if there is more food in it, and crumpling it up if otherwise, "Thank you," she says out of politeness. And, after all, she's hungry.
"It's a nice night," she notes, perhaps more to herself than to him.
(sterilng)
*sure, the weather's not the best, and sure, it's soggy outside, but is that any reason to avoid going out at night? Well... Yes, actually, it is. Of course, if you don't have anyplace to get out of the rain, this is as good as it gets.Moist and dirty, the young boy shuffles quietly down the road, trying to remain as inconspicuous as a 13 year old kid in ragged out clothes can be at this time of night. He's not too bad at staying out of sight, but it's his curiousity that always gets the best of him.
Absently readjusting the dirty Tarheels hat on his head to cover his eyes somewhat, he crouches down against a wall down the road a bit from the two, just outside the radius of one of the many street lamps.
That guy, yea, him, there, with the McDonalds... mmmm.... McDonalds bag... Yea, he's the bum, the one from the store. The prick, treats the boy like oh-so-much shit, then gets him interested, then leaves him AND, to top it all of, makes himself hard to find. Well, not that anybody wanted to find him, but, well... The principle of the thing.
For now, anyway, the bum has been found, and the boy watches him, and his aquaintance*
(james)
there is
he was intending to take food back to the pack (everybody eatz) but there's enough change leftover from his earlier performance to buy more - when the weather's bad, the flocks tend to gather to shelter, and it guarantees an audience
the bag rerolled and tucked away into the Alice pack that rests on his other side"Welcome."
polite, or genuine, it's there nonetheless
"And I'll agree to that. Warm meal, quiet streets, finally have that seasonal change in the weather.... who could ask for more?"
well, he could, his pack could be here
but they were busy
the cheeseburger finished in relative chewing silence before he's glancing over"Mind if I ask you something?"
a little more brazen now that he's not concerned about being rude in her territory
(imogen)
She carefully unwraps the cheese burger and takes a bite as he speaks, extraordinary blue eyes flickering out toward the streets as a car drifts by, it's wheels hissing. The cheeseburgers finished in silence, she crumples the wrapping in pale slender hands, dropping it into the paper bag between the two of them.Pale eyes flicker toward him and a coppery eyebrow arches, before slender shoulders shrug just slightly, "Alright," she concedes simply.
Perhaps the third person (are they really people?) on the street is unnoticed by the dark blue eyes, as the woman keeps her eyes on the street and the vaguely passing cars, spilling their poison into the air.
(james)
his constant sweeps of the area just seem natural
and they are, things become ingrained
another cheeseburger appears in his hands from the bag
but he doesn't make a move to open itmaybe he's just warming his hands
"You always all business.... or you have something against Blood?"
that they're not from the same Tribe doesn't bother him
Folks is Folks
Garou are Garou
Blood is Blood
(unless you're a ShadowLord)
and he noticed the lack of preamble or even hello in tonight's entertainmentthat gaze drifting down the street, waiting for her answer
pointedly?
maybe....ever notice how scents carry further in damp air?
(imogen)
She rests her back against the wall, tilting her head up toward the mist, eyes scannning the clouded skies before finally lighting on the faint glow that is the barest hint of a half moon."I'm always all business," she replies, her voice a lilt of cornish ancestory; obviously british, though it's not the language the queen of england would speak. This is the language of the pubs, where you can be called 'guv'na' and it would not sound bizarre. It would simply be a part of the atmosphere. "I don't much spend time 'round tha full bloods izzall."
(james)
there's a soft, soft chuckle"I don't blame you, personally."
a wink, and even a smile
of course, there are many that wouldn't call him a fullblood, either
he doesn't push for a reason why
he simply accepts her as she isnow that he knows that's how she is, anyway
but his gaze is still off down the street, at seemingly nothing, or maybe a little shadow
a very familiar shadow
the yellow wrapped burger spins once in nimble fingers
an offering?
you betchanow.... will it be taken.
(imogen)
A faint smirk touches her lips as he speaks, shaking her head. Half damp tendrils of hair slide forward into her eyes. Dark blues dart across the street, sliding across the garbage cans and street lamps trying to find the source of James' attention, as elbows lean forward slightly to rest on her knees.(sterling)
*Damn... He's been found. Or, at least Mr. Bum has a good idea he's out there... Well, too bad, he's not taking the bait... Even though it's a... cheeseburger, and... it's... real food and...Before he realizes what he's doing, he's getting to his feet and taking a few steps into the light and towards the two down the road, but, more importantly, towards the burger... food...
The kid's deffinately worse off for his time out in the streets. His Abercrombie and Fitch shirt is dirty and stained, and his American Eagle cargo shorts are torn in a couple places, and black smudges cover them in random spots. The UNC Tarheels hat on his head is fairly clean, but even it has seen it's better days. His Doc Marten sandals are deffinately well worn, but, well, those things never look old, no matter how much abuse they take.
His hands in his pockets now, he shuffles up the way towards the burger... oh yea, and the familiar guy and his friend, they're there too, with the burger*
(james)
now, a smirk is something that may, possibly, one day lead to a smile
he'll keep that in mindhis attention stays on the kid
now that the risen will give away what he's been looking at to Imogen
waiting until the boy's within a few yards
and tossing the cheeseburger at him for an easy catchhe bet the kid hadn't eaten
looking at him, well, the Gnawer would be one bet richer
easy half-grin saying he's pretty glad to see the kid stil alive
even if way way worse for wear"Got a couple more where that came from, too."
looking back to Imogen with a little bit of a grin
Once a Hood, always a Hood
Blood is Blood and the boy hasn't got a drop to rely on(imogen)
She rests her elbows on her knees, silently as her pale blue eyes slide over the boy's dingy and scrawny attire. Between both James and Sterling, Imogen is quite out of place. Her hair is damp, and falling loosely over her cheekbones, her clothing wet, and she is outside in the rain, like they are, but there is flesh on her bones, and her skin is a fine pale milk colour, ungrimed and clear. The clothing is decent, too. Clean; warm.She does not offer a greeting to the boy, not quite unfriendly, but making no overtures, and James's smile is not returned.`
(sterling)
*yea, so much for that burger... It was doomed the second it left the man's hand. With an almost ravenous look in his eyes, the kid watches the arc of the paper-wrapped delicacy and reaches out to snatch it from the air. He's off in his own little world as he sits down right there and unwraps the burger, wolfing it down in a little under three bites... Well, okay, maybe one long bite.With the burger gone and out of the way, he crumples up the paper with a slightly sad look on his face, and looks back to the man, the paper still cradled in his fingers.
His voice is slightly hoarse from disuse, but he clears his throat shortly after he begins speaking, setting all the working parts in order*
"Thank... Thanks man... First thing I've had in like, a week... I, uhm... kinda ran out of money a-awhile back.
*he finally acknowledges the female's presence, but it's just with a sort of glance-over from the boy's clear blue eyes. A jealous look at her clean clothes, but nothing more. He doesn't know her, hell, he hardly knows this guy*
(james)
there's another bit of a chuckle"I know, I was there, remember? I didn't think that bag of jerkey was going to last all that long."
the bag uncrumpled and another cheeseburger produced (gotta love sundays) and held out towards the boy, he's going to have to come and get it
a Hood'll help you, but you have to work for it"And chew this time.... won't do you any good to bring it right back up."
mothering?
no
he's just gone hungry before, too
knows what it's like to bolt to an empty stomach then lose it all faster than you got it down"Think about what I said last time? And don't worry about her, she's blood."
which would explain to Imogen why he's helping this strange kid
real young
lost
running
should sum it all up right there(imogen)
She's also older than the two; with fresh skin like her own, it's difficult to gauge her age, it's the kind of flesh that always appears young (perhaps Sterling's jealous mind wonders if it's simply that she's lived easy... sometimes he must feel so old, he can feel his bones creak), at the very least, the woman is in her late twenties. Perhaps more.She entwines her fingers together, slender digits chapped and worn, calloused, slightly incongruous with her otherwise rather cleaned look.
James is given a rather dark piercing look, a glance that could peel paint before she exhales, slowly, nodding, patting her pockets slowly in search of something.
(sterling)
*he hesitates a bit, not really wanting to get too much closer... Sure... Blood... Whatever. She's kinda creepy with those nasty looks and shit. She don't look at all the type that'd be out here on a night like this associating with street trash without a self-serving reason. Well... it is a cheeseburger.Scooting forward, he sits just a couple feet away from Mr. Dreadlocks and quickly grabs the burger, tearing it open and going to wolf it down in much the same manner, but, with a frown, he glares at the guy and takes a smaller bite, chewing it up slowly before swallowing and moving on to the next*
"Yea, I thought about it... Well, kinda. Sounds like a lie and such, but, I don't have anything else, really... I'm kinda well, stuck out here. Fuck, I dunno. How do I know you're not just some asshole trying to throw me a story and shit? Maybe you're one of those 'nasty things' you were talking about..."
*the boy's clear eyes focus on the older man now, his gaze is hard, and it's obvious that he totally doesn't believe the guy, even if he wants to. Everybody's out to get him now, everybody...*
"The cops know I'm out here now... They saw me the other day."
(imogen)
Found it. She'd bought them earlier today. Out comes a pack of cigarettes, followed by tapping out a cigarette. More patting in search of a lighter as she tries to remember if she bought one of those. Dragging herself to her feet, dark azure eyes go from James and back to Sterling staring at him again, this time more shrewdly as she takes a few steps away, finding a lighter in a back pocket. Lighting up, she sucks on the filter, lighting the cigarette, before exhaling slowly, a stream of grey cancerous air, turning deliberately away from the two.
(james)
he never specified what blood was, did he
only said to help the boy out
note he also didn't give her name
but luckily his skin remains properly covering his bones from that lookand he just about laughs
just about
but doesn't
last thing this kid needs is to be mocked
so instead he sets it straight
the kid getting the Full Moon's full attention"You don't know. But no matter what, the guy playing the other side is going to be the bad guy to the person explaining things to you, right? What you need to do is trust instinct. It's either going to tell you to come with me, or run like hell. I'm offering you a shower, food, warmth, a change of clothes, and an explanation to what just happened. Your other choices include these nasties I keep mentioning, or waiting for the cops to find you and take you home."
the Gnawer draws his feet up and stretches to stand
gathering the Alice pack with the rebar drumsticks sticking from the top but not shouldering it quite yet"If I was a nasty, I'd've skinned you already. And I think going home has about the same appeal. Now my friend here as a night to get on with, and I've got a long walk to get home. It's up to you kid, I won't push, but I won't look back, either."
(imogen)
To her, it's all the same. But now that she knows he's only just changed (or thinks he has) it's no where near as bad as it could be.She inhales slowly from the cigarette, glancing at the boy out of the corner of her eye, "Ye'd do well ta listen to him," speaks the woman with her attractive voice, "Tha baddies are none sae subtle as this."
(sterling)
*he kinda hangs his head at the explanation, and at the woman's cold demeanor... Whatever blood this guy means, hers seems to run cold in her veins. Whatever...He mulls over the ideas for a few moments as he finishes off the burger, and, as he folds the wrapper up again, preparing himself to speak
A shower would be nice... Maybe some more food... Hell, just to get away from the cops and shit...*
"Well... I can't exactly go home... I kinda fucked that one up..."
*he pauses again, looking back up at James, seeming more than a little out of his league asking for help of any kind. Well, he's not really asking for help, just a buddy*
"Uhm. You mind if I walk home with you? Y'know, just for some company or something?"*he doesn't really acknowledge the woman... But, she's at least making a good point. If they're as bad as they're supposed to be, they wouldn't offer him food, right?"
(james)
had Sterling's opinion of Imogen's blood have been spoken aloud, the Gnawer probably wouldn't disagree
he's met warmer folks
but some just as standoffishdreads dance over his shoulders in a nod
"Sure thing, kid."
there's a glance to Imogen
and his chin drops in a slow nod
this one speaking for far more than acknowledgement
there's gratitude for her support
and her help from earlierthe heavy pack shouldered
"Come on, kid, it's a couple mile walk..... everyone should be passed out by the time we get there so you may even have hot water in the shower."
and he doesn't seem to have a problem in the world walking home in the rain
(imogen)
A fraction of nod in reply, eyes dropping to the concrete out of habit, before raising her head again and drawing deeply off of the cigarette and blowing the smoke away as she turns on her heel, beginning to walk back in the direction she'd been heading before she'd met up with James.Back toward the SUV parked two blocks away under the street light.
(sterling)
*he pockets the wrapper and stands up slowly, motioning to brush any dirt off his pants that they may have gathered... but, he stops himself, it's a futile effort. With a sigh he crams his hands in his pockets and looks at the woman again, watching her leave... Cold, so cold... What a bitch.leaning back against the wall, he looks up and down the road, trying to hide the relief in his expression with disinterest*
"So, where is it that we're going, exactly? Not like a cold shower would really bother me... We're kinda getting one now, right?"
*and a small, very small smile*
(james)
but the small, very small smile brings out that same easy grin from the Ahroun
even after everything - yes indeed, there is hope
nodding down the street
one tattered cuff raising as he points to a building that's just as mysteriously shadowed in the darkness as Sterling was when the first cheeseburger was offered"Home."
for now, anyway
home has often changed nightly
already he's heading into the steady stroll
the kind that's used to walking from one end of a city to the other without missing a beat
the indigenous tribesman following the native trails of this concrete jungle"It's an apartment some friends and I share."
(imogen)
She exhales very slowly as she's out of hearing distance from the two full bloods, eyes closing for a moment before forcing them open and beginning to walk again, her free hand reaching up to rub her neck as she begins the mental process of trying to relax, forcing muscles to loosen and her mind to switch to a less tense gear.The cigarette, half finished is tossed, end over end into a gutter a block away from her vehicle.
One more block to go.
(sterling)
*he nods a little bit and looks off down the road, studying the place for a second or two, just long enough to get passed by James. Getting his bearings straight, he rushes to catch up, and then walks beside the taller man, hands still in his pockets*"They aren't going to care that your dragging me in with you?"
(james)
his head shakes"Nope. They'll understand."
pack will understand
without him having to explain"You're staying more than a night is questionable, though."
Posted by james at 12:00 AMOctober 12, 2002.10.12.02. - fingerprints and beer [imogen](james)
so ya got style
a bassbeat backbeat lowslung swingin' groovin' homeless man'o'the'streets dreadlock swayin' patchworktrenchoat playin' style
or somethin like that
deep brown eyes search the apartment numbers and lock on Rune's
then slliiiiiide over onemust be Imogen's
second hand cochran's avoid most of the light drizzle's puddles and blaze a slightly damp trail towards the appropriate stairwell and door, a quick sleight (or swipe) of hand dries his face and makes the urban primitive look mostly presentable
i mean
when a doctor supposedly needs you
you should at least attemp appearing presentableand knuckles rap a lively beat on the door
(imogen)
It's far into the evening, and she's only been home a few hours. Being a part of a respectable profession like a doctor, really, should mean that you have better hours. Office hours, right? Wrong. It's her weekend on call. And she got called.Dragging her slender frame frame the chair, she walks toward the door, rubbing a pale hand across her face abruptly trying to wash the fatigue from it. For the most part, she expects to see the Fenrir Modi as she opens the door, either that or some door to door Jehovah's Witness. She doesn't tend to receive visitors. Rather likes it this way.
The door slides open with a muted creak of the hinges, and a petite woman stands in the door way, dressed in a pair of jeans, slung low on curved hips and a simple pale blue t-shirt well fitted to a well-fit body. She's pretty enough, if you look. Red hair, in curls and locks and unruly falls around a face of delicate features, all sharp angles and pale colours. It's these features, that are open and subdued at the same time, these features that tighten, and this face that suddenly appears uncomfortable upon beholding the man on the porch. Nevertheless, with only the barest hint of a sigh (she couldn't help it, anyway), she steps aside, to permit him entrance to her home, a gesture of a slender slightly chapped hand mimicking her apparent meaning.
(james)
an easy grin slides across his features
it's that easy grin that never seems to fully go away
..... except in his darkest momentsa step inside opens the patchwork coattails to display worn black BDUs under the surplus drab shirt that could probably use a wash sooner rather than later but now the pack has a place to stay it might get that wash sooner than expected (lo and behold) - the baggy clothes and heavy coat betray the body beneath, revealing little more than square shoulders somewhere beneath the haphazard lengths of light brown dreads
but he doesn't go too far in
head tilting
he heard that barest hint
the sliding harmony to her heartbeat"Bad time?"
soft and smooth
every predator knows when another is uncomfortable(imogen)
She shakes her head slightly, dragging a hand through her hair as she permits a small smile to touch her features. It's not a smile that goes beyond her lips, no deeper than her teeth. "No," she says after a moment, stepping away from the door, but leaving it open so he can enter. Bare feet whisper against the hard wood floor of the condo, an immaculate affair. High class, really, all warm wood, and sedated elegance. Couch. Easy chair. Wooden coffee table, that has a file folder carefully closed, resting beside a beer, sitting on a coaster to protect the surface of wood. Framed paintings on the walls, soft colours and whimsical subjects."C'mon in," she continues in a voice that lilts, an accent caught between british and irish, warm brown tones. She crosses the living room and picks up the beer, taking a swig from it, before turning to glance over at him, blue eyes scanning him up and down before narrow shoulders shrug slightly, "I'll get me shite together and do tha fingerprintin' down 'ere."
(james)
when his eyes finally leave her, there's a little bit of something in them
just a flicker
not something one will see very often and its hidden very quickly
rarely will a Gnawer show how out of place he feels
but in the midst of all this immaculateness..... he feels very out of place
dirty
low
tresspassingfingers run through and ruffle dreads before finally willing himself to follow
"I have to admit this is a first..... "
(imogen)
"Hopefully it will be tha last, too," she replies dismissively, "So long as ye and your packmates start wearing gloves or somethin' when you re-enter a crime scene." She scoops up the file folder, gesturing eloquently with one hand, "Have a seat. D'ye want something to drink?" It's courtesy, but it's uncomfortable. She does it because she knows she should. She waits for his answer, and without a flicker more, turns and heads into the kitchen.(james)
there's a nod
chastized
even though he knows he didn't touch a thing
and a part of him is wary at being recorded in such a way
but Decker passed the message, and he trusts his packmate"Yes please."
with a flicker of a (shy?) smile
Momma didn't raise an uncouth mutt
she raised a civilized one
and the Frankenweiler's helped propagate it
but the lessons never covered where an appropriate place was to sit in a place you didn't belongthe floor seems as good a place as any
ankles crossing as the drummer folds onto the plush carpet(imogen)
She returns with another beer, and a small ink pad and several official looking cardboard sheets that are squared off, with small numbers and other indicators along the top. A pen is tucked behind her ear.A slight blink as she notes where he sits, before coming to sink down in front of him, offering the beer as she crosses her legs indian style beneath her, shifting sideways so she can write on the hardwood floor just beyond the carpetting. John Doe, she scrawls across it, in a left hand scribble, before including a small round circle at the end. Cracking her neck with a sharp movement, she slides back over, placing the finger print card on the coffee table, holding out a hand, "Give me your hand, please." She didn't appear to be a talkative one, but at the very least, she was polite.
(james)
the 'thank you' is surprisingly soft
dark eyes lighting up at the prospect of a beer
and a beer all of his own
not to be shared with any otherand even to a stranger, it is obvious how much he enjoys the first swallow
palm smears across his thigh, dried, before silently offered
calloused from the rebar drumsticks
scarred from living on the street
some dirt may never wash away"He mentioned they wouldn't stick around..... but he never told me why you wanted prints."
there are several assumptions he could draw
the Gnawer was well-read and smart
but there were some parts of the real world he had little experience in(imogen)
"Because when the door was kicked in, the police got the bright idea to finger print again. I want to be absolutely sure there are no traces of you or your packmates anywhere in the system. If there are traces, I want ta get rid o' them," she replies as she takes his hand, and effeciently turning his wrist so she can roll his thumb on the finger print pad. The thumb is then carefully pressed against the card. His index finger is completed next. Followed by the rest of his fingers, all indelibly marked on the card board. As she moves, he can see the print of a tattoo across her arm, revealed by the pull of her sleeve. A fianna glyph turned sideways."I'm not sure how careful all of ye were, but I want to be absolutely sure." one fingerprint card is completed. "I need your other 'and, please."
(james)
there's a slow, thoughtful, nod
it makes sense"You won't find any prints of mine on record. Like I said... it's a first."
offered with a touch of a warming smile
the beer set on a coaster before he reaches to pull his sleeve up a little so the tatters don't get into the way
and when she's ready, the process reversed
a few ash scars rubbed into the other arm"Kin or chosen?"
chin pointing towards the revealed tattoo
(imogen)
"But I might find your prints in that room. And that's what I want ta get rid of. Stop the problem before it starts and whatnot. Even if they canna connect it ta you specifically, the fact you're there would not be helpful." She stops mid fingerprinting to glance where her looks, a hand reaching over to jerk irritably at the sleeve cuff, though of course, the attempt is too late. And she's bred well, her pure breed would declare what the tattoo did not."Kinfolk," she replies reluctantly at after a moment, as she continues the process, placing his mark on the print cards. Finally, it's finished, and she offers him a damp cloth, brought for this purpose. as she carefully picks up the finger print cards.
(james)
that went well, didn't it, Jamey boy?hands wiped clean before reaching for the beer again
she already knows he's Chosen
so he doesn't say anythingalmost sorry he asked
(imogen)
Making sure not to smudge the fast drying ink, she stands, glancing at him through pale red lashes, startling eyes narrowed into blue triangles, jerking her head at the cards, "Once I've checked, these will be destroyed. There's no need ta be concerned on that score." she says quietly as she reaches over, grabbing the cloth, and turning to walk back into the kitchen.After a moment, she returns, sitting back down, this time in the easy chair, leaning over to pick up her beer, glancing at the amount through the amber glass. After a moment, takes a sip of the brew, attention turning back to the Garou for a moment, "What tribe?"
(james)
he watches
doesn't stare but watches to find out what's going on, what she's doing
just curiousanother long sip as she sits back down
"Gnawer."
(imogen)
She's run out of things to say. She hasn't asked him his name, but he assuredly knows hers, and in the end that's all that matters in their world; at least in her jaded opinion. She knows he is chosen, and she knows his tribe. Even in the end, the former is more important to her than the latter.A soft sound of acknowledgement, a quiet 'hmm' as she drains most of the beer in an easy swallow before placing it back on the coffee table, chewing lightly on the inside of her mouth. Likewise, she watches.
She doesn't stare, but she's aware of his presence. It's a quiet pulse of his rage, and the simple fact that she knows what he is, and what he can do.
And in part, he knows what she is, and that's not something that she's permitted to happen in a very long time. Recently, she's simply turned and walked away.
(james)
as uncomfortable as he seems in the place
it is not because of the silencethe quiet inner conemplation as each rolls their thoughts over as if tasting a virgin wine
and drains their beers
can't forget the beerit's a few quiet breaths after his is empty (savored) that a hand stretches towards her
in her chair
in that safety zone in comfort and above the floor
above him
dark brown eyes lifting to find the brilliant lights of hers"Name's James."
(imogen)
She pauses, for a moment, before leaning forward to deposit her beer, nearly empty now, on the coffee table before taking his hand in a firm grip and shakes. Her hand is cool in his, with rough edges and callouses, small and delicate. She, nevertheless, has a firm grip, "Imogen," she replies, with a polite smile.After a moment, out of habit, as she releases his hand, "Nice ta meetcha."
(james)
there's a nod
a bit of a smile
his shake firm but not rough
even with the rage, even with the physical power
.... there seems to be a softness to him"Nice to meet you, too."
the empty glass settled aside
"And thank you for the beer."
legs flexing to extend and rise
not wanting to chance overstaying his welcome(imogen)
"Any time," she replies quietly, as she untucks her legs, pulling herself to stand and let him out of her home.Posted by james at 12:00 AM