December 30, 2002.12.30.02. - faith [rune][north jersey, condos]
(rune)
It's late, when she returns. It's quite late. One might even say, it's early. Somewhere in the middle of the long night (how long'm I indebted? for-fucking-ever), everything got turned around, and after long miles taken too fast, the blur of the road, the pit stop at the rest area in the middle of Bumpkis, New Jersey (her new name for everyplace that is neither here nor there, but rather someplace in the middle of it all) to suck down a cigarette and swallow a couple of Xanax (no Evian in the vending machines here. Just fucking Dasani or some such crap. Weak.) before climbing back into the car and finishing the goddamned drive back a little too fast, a little too recklessly, she pulls into the Rolling Meadows parking lot on the ass-end of morning. Five a.m.Traffic was already picking up, the foolish souls who bleed themselves dry with two hour commutes into the city so they can afford the big house with the nice garage, two Volvos, and designer clothes (Baby Gap!) for the children they never see were heading toward their high-powered jobs in the high-priced city, mainlining Starbucks in an attempt to remaing reasonably alert. The Beemer was the only car peeling off at the anonymous exit in the middle of the anonymous sprawl. It's drive was the only one who had been up the whole of the night, and she was the only one who was not exhausted, cursing blearily at traffic while checking email on the phone, reading the paper and gobbling down breakfast while fiddling with the radio (hate that song).
She had stopped just once after the smoke break, zipped through a drive-through for breakfast at a fast-food restaurant a quarter-mile from home. And so, when she climbs out of a car, she's swinging her keys in one hand and a brown paper bag stuffed full and stinking (deliciously) of sausage and biscuits and deep fried potato flattened into an unnatural shape. The door opened and flung shut, she fumbles for the lights (still rather dark outside) before flinging keys and breakfast across the linoleum breakfast bar. Quick survey of the living room - empty - before she grabs her cigarettes and a cold beer from the fridge, and heads outside for a smoke.
Rune stands there, on the balcony, fingers curled negligently around the neck of the beer bottle, which rests otherwise against her hip. The first tainted breath of poisoned smoke is heaven, and settles her nerves, soothes that which the Xanax had not touched into quiesence. It's not until the second or third breath (inhale/exhale) that she pauses to exam the niggling sense - pack - of James' presence, close enough that she can feel him, but not on the couch where she would usually find him. She exams the feeling as she takes her fourth drag, and stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray before taking the fifth, turning around and heading back inside.
She pauses in the kitchen to grab another beer, then follows the tug of his presence toward the steps. Her boots - the sleek, high-heeeled leather boots that would offer not a lick of traction on ice or snow - are discarded at the foot of the stairs, and through some complicated negotion, she doffs her winter coat at the top of the stairs without managing to spill her beer.
The bedroom - her bedroom - there - and she opens the door quietly, bare feet whispering on the carpet, left hand fumbling for the dimmer switch to turn the lights on low, to take the edge from the darkness, to let her see.
(james)
how long ago did he slink in from the balcony
(where she's standing now)
choking down some feeling brought back from the past
some jealousy he souldn't really have
Decker was back, he'll take care of Imogen
so he'll just crawl away unnoticed like a good boy
blindly moving up the stairs and through the short hallway
(where she navigates now)
opening the door to her room and shutting it behind him
and somehow, for some reason, curling up in her bed
(where she's standing, watching, now)he never does this
whenever she's not here
he doesn't invite himself into her bed
he takes the couch, or the chair, or whatever's convenient
but never in her own den
no matter how many times he's slept here with her
he never invades that privacy
never longer than a shower if the downstairs one is occupied
never longer than to grab something she asked him to anyway
he never does thisso maybe it speaks of something else, now
whatever it is that left boots and trench piled onto the floor
whatever it is that has the pillow clamped down tight over his head, back to the door
whatever it is that had him up in Albany for two days - without sharing a word of where he went
how much worse will it get, if they knew
whatever it was that he didn't want to leave, but did anyway, when calledwhen the lights climb in mimic of sunrise
there's little more than a half-sigh and a tightening of the arm flung over the pillow
(baby, it's too early.... c'mere, you don't wanna wake up either and you know it)
and perhaps some frown hidden deep deep below the fluffy down
it's the sleep of the exhausted, the sleep of the heartbroken
maybe it has something to do with the picture that's laying on top of his trench(rune)
The lights climb up - almost artificial sunrise, or perhaps some strange sunrise, the diffuse light spilling softly from the recesses bordering the ceiling all around the room - and then back down, until it is just enough by which to see, until it is just enough for her to set the beer bottles aside on the nightstand and send her cigarettes tumbling after without knocking off the red beanie bear that has taken the place of honor beside the glowing alarm clock. Just enough, too, that she can navigate the room - her discarded clothing in a pile in a corner, his trench, his boots piled two feet down - without stumbling over the objects on the floor.Just enough, too, so that she can see the picture atop the trench, draw back to the small pool along the wall where the light is brightest and glance down at the photograph. She takes a moment then (long fingers curled around the curling border of the picture, thumb sweeping the bottom edge, pausing at the crease in the middle.
Happy Y2K!
Well then. Dark eyes flicker toward the figure curled on the bed, then return to the photograph in her hand. She breathes in - a longdrawn breath, held until her lungs seem ready to burst - and then exhales a quiet sigh. The photo is folded carefully back into quarters, tucked neatly into the right pocket of the trench. The trench is shaken out and hung in the overstuffed closet, some three or four garments flung down to make room. That chore finished, Rune turns her attention definitely back to James, huddled on her bed.
She circles the room to the far side, closest to where he rests, then eases herself over the hard, leatherwrapped frame. The mattress rolls and shifts with the sudden added burden of her weight. She remains still until some level of equilibrium has returned, then eases herself across the distance between them, using the frame for leverage so as not to send the waves wild through the mattress once more.
When she has gained his side, she slips her hands beneath his shoulders, and lifts him so that his head rests against her leatherclad thigh rather than the sheets beneath. Though she does not disturb the pillow clamped over his head, her fingers find their way beneath, curling into the sleeping disorder of his dreads.
(james)
somewhere, deep inside, he feels her
which her?
that jangling warmth between his shoulderblades
which pack
and because of some scent or feeling or something else
it blooms further, a comfortable crawl up his spine
which love
and maybe, after the waves have settled
after her body draws close to his and his head rests upon her thigh
there might be the glimmer of a smile, thereas fingers sneak into his dreads
his hand sneaks off the pillow and around her hips
muscle flexing through his arm as the bed rolls in the shift of her weight closer
... she must be comfortable
she must be wantedhe just holds her there
asleep.. awake... does it matter?
five minutes pass on the digital clock
little neon bars playing musical chairs to count the time
and finally his fingers move along the waistline of leather pants
some absent, half-conscious caress
sleep (or something far worse) thick in his voice that stumbles out from beneath the pillow"How long you been back?"
a half roll
sliding the fluffy covering off to the side
umber (bloodshot) gaze lifting to her face in the almost darkness(rune)
The pillow is removed, and now her slim fingers have a full, textured canvas over which to play. And play they do, through the rough, disordered tangle, sorting the thick vines of dreadlocks by some arcane system known only to her absent, nimble fingers. This one shifted to the side, another curled beneath it, a third smoothed back from his brow and allowed to fall back across his head, the next spilling over the muscled curve of her thigh and then to the soft, slippery sheets beneath. Now and then her dancing fingers pause on his skin, the pads soft and uncalloused, the edges of her manicured nails cool in contrast to the heat of her fingers: his brow, his temple, the hollow beneath his ear, the corner of his mouth, before returning to his hair.She sorts and resorts and smooths and resmooths the disordered locks over and over again, watching him through half-closed eyes.
"Not long," she murmurs in response, daring to shift position, to uncurl her second leg from beneath her body, inviting the movement of the bed beneath them as she changes the distribution of her weight. Her hands still, then, fingers flattening against his dreadlocks, one hand sliding down to cup his cheek. "Long enough."
The painted red mouth traces a wistful curve across her sharp, pale featured-face. - If I could take this from you - She bends to press a brief, warm kiss to his brow. - I can never take this from you. - Then her thumb curls to rub the stain of her lipstick from his skin.
(james)
he can't help it
even in the depths of his sorrow
there's a small smile rising
that... shy... smile
at the way she plays with his hair
sorting and tangling the thick dread cords
the tilt of his face into the warmth of her hand
the half close of his eyes in some serene sigh in all this hurtas she so easily moves
in control of her body and comfortable in the deliberateness
he shifts to remain comfortable
or to just not allow her to move too far awaywhen she lifts from that breif, warm kiss
his arm lifts to follow
fingers sliding along the side of her neck
softly finding place to rest behind
(Long enough)
completing some symbolic circle of touch between them
there's a wry grin tugging at the corner of his mouth
there's a soft, chuffed laugh at her smearing the lipstick away
Someday, someone will find a way to....
though the sound doesn't remain in his words
the whole time his gaze never left her"Cooper's on the right... Sledge in the middle.... Chris on the left."
he doesn't say that's Jenna in his arms
their baby in her belly
he knows he doesn't have to"It's where I was.... bit North of Albany."
where I buried them
I didn't mean to not tell you
But how do you tell your pack your visiting the graves of three Spirals and a corrupted kin?(rune)
"Do you need to go back?" she asks quietly, head craning back against his fingers as she revels in the simple contact. The question surprises her, spilling out of her mouth before she has a chance to consider it, much like the offer that falls hard on its heels. "I could go with you. Luc and Livingston could watch out for Imogen for a day or two."How could he tell them? He couldn't. She wouldn't. Of course, there are no graves to visit (the bodies, burned.) and she would not wish to do so. His sorrow is more deeply felt, more real than whatever half-assed selt-doubt sent her running thousands of miles across the country, severing all ties with her tribe (and soon that ended. She's all tangled up, all over again), and somehow, it shames her, the way he still feels his grief, raw and fresh as if it happened yesterday, in a way she never has, in a way she never could. There's something so raw, something so pure about his grief, no matter what they became, no matter what he had to do at the end, for his lost pack and his lost mate.
The offer made, she begins sliding down into a more comfortable slouch. Her hand leaves his hair to grab the pillow he discarded and shift it so that it is wedeged between her upper back and the low headboard as she inches down. Her body moves minutely beneath his head - the bunch and release of muscle in thigh and calf - and soon his pillow is no longer her thigh, but rather the soft curve of torso between hip and waist.
(james)
his fingers stay at her neck
as he if could feel her reasoning
as if by touch he could understand her thoughts
just as he still feels his grief
and he's quiet as she moves
dark gaze dropping awayhis pillow becomes lean belly
he's twisting onto his side
so that her legs draw up over his thighs
his shoulder firm against her hip
keeping them tangled together
the arm that reached for her slowly slipping to curve around her ribs"I'd appreciate the ride."
the words so soft
.... choking
tumbling out in a half-thought before he falls silent again
his jaw tensing against her sweater
his fingers curling against her flank
he just.... listens to the echo of her heartbeat
the rush of living blood as it courses down into her long legs
he's not staring at the far wall, or the blink of the clock
just blankly into the darkness
just blankly into his past
was two days enough to pay his respects to those he loved?"...... or maybe I should just let them go."
they didn't let you go, Jamey-boy
they wanted to bring you with them
and you killed them for it
.... there are times a man should question his faith.(rune)
"You'll let them go when you can, James." Her words are quietly uttered, and fall softly in the dark, quiet room. The sounds of the city are a fine, white noise, a low incessant hum that forms the background to all their interactions, familiar (like the wind in the canopy of some vast forest constructed of concrete and metal pilings, rising, rising to blot out the sun) and noticed, somehow, only in its absence, the constant buzz of white noise. "Even if I wish you could now, if only for - "The sentence ends abruptly, and she sucks in another breath. His head rises and falls with the contraction of her diaphragm as she draws in another long breath, dreads shifting softly as the landscape of her stomach (his pillow) changes. " - for you, or whatever." She is not often at such a loss for words, but the gravity of the subject does not sit easily on her glib tongue. Her usual, casual dismissals are hardly appropriate, and she half-feels words stuck in her throat, half-feels as if breath has been stolen from her lungs, so strange and painful is it to find herself without something - anything - to say.
After a moment, she starts again. Another breath, drawn as her fingers twist more tightly in his hair, drawn as she settles more firmly against him, hip against his shoulder, legs flung over his thighs, bent faintly at the knee to accommodate his body half-curled beneath her own. "It's not a matter of should, I guess. I mean, it doesn't - " another pause, the wry twist of a smile - speechless - and then, quieter, so quiet he must strain to hear. " - I don't know what to say. We'll drive up, tomorrow."
(james)
as her stomach rises in the caught breath
he's a moment lingering before sinking back against her
he wants to ask what she was going to say
even if maybe he already knows
just.... maybe to hear it, just to really know
even behind some closed door in their own private world
he can still feel the dull ache of lingering jealousy
and a part of him that knows better wants the void to be filled anyway
but as his shoulder compresses beneath his weight
and he's settled comfortably back against her abs
he doesn't ask - and he doesn't sayhe lets it all slip by in silence once again
there's the crawl of his fingers down her side
some little mountaineer traversing the landscape her body provides
tracing the babysoft folds of her sweater
feeling how it smooths slick across her flesh beneath
mapping the stitches that curve leather to her hip
the stretch of seam down her thigh
then all the way back up again
strong hand firm across iliac crest"I'm glad you came home, Rune."
he doesn't say anything more than that
he knows it's better that they not think about it
but maybe he can't help it, now
in one of those rare times the water is still below them
when they're not distracted in the heat of each other's flesh
as he's thinking about what made him dead inside, for so very long
how losing her brought an emptiness greater than any he ever imagined
and how he's laying here, now, in comfortable, sad silence
with the one that made him begin to live againPosted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 29, 2002.12.29.02. - someplace we can talk [rune-imogen-decker][north jersey]
(rune)
The trail of Rune's glance is broken when Cole enters the store, and she shifts her attention back to Imogen. Smoke spills her her lights, spirals into the sky. She returns Imogen's brief flicker of a look, and her shoulders rise and fall beneath the leather.Two steps forward - a brief glance back - as the crowd of children spills from the corner store, heading toward the police cars. Though she is in their direct line, they keep a fair distance from her, and thus it is only the sudden assertion of noise that draws her up sharply, rather than some random jostling occasioned by small and overeager feet.
Another two steps forward, then, turning back to the tableau before her, gaze shifting from the brief glance toward Cole back toward Vashton as she strains to catch his words. She's too far away, though, and his question is only rumbled, indistinct sound melding with so many others.
(imogen)
He looks deep into her eyes, and she stares right back at him, without any fear, without any cringing (she does this because most people can't, and she has something to prove). Like him, much of what is beneath the fabric of cloth is hidden by it, as well as, apparently, some weapon of some sort. Only the impression of curves and a body that, while not battle trained, is fit. Not quite athletic. Because she is looking into his eyes, and he is looking into hers, he can see the faint widening, the minor shock as he recognizes her for what she is, though, as they narrow, perhaps she thinks she should be used to it by now.A pale hand reaches up, tucking curls behind her ear impatiently as her face remains mostly impassive, but for the widening and subsequent narrowing of her dark dark eyes. "I'm the first one," she says finally, obscurely, because this is not the place to do such a conversation, only a block or two from a crime scene, and in a public place, no less.
"Though I was under the impression that there was always a time an' place for such conversations." She has a lovely accent, this one. Perhaps Scottish, or Irish. British, possibly, at a stretch. It slurs and burrs through her voice, well rounded like a good aged ale. Her cigarette is slid back between her lips, the ember sharpening it's orange as she inhales, softening only as she ceases the pull of toxins into her lungs.
She is a strange mixture of tugs and repulsion, this woman who has had heroes bear her ancestors, felt on some sort of supernatural secondary sense, felt along his skin like water, but almost detached, as if he was feeling it from a distance. The silver is felt in the base of his neck, down his spine. The kind of feeling that raises hair on his arms
(james)
there's a car that turns the corner
some little nameless, faceless car
what kind? he probably doesn't know
and he didn't really care
he just needed to cover a lot of distance in a short amount of time
and hitching just wasn't going to work for this roundso.... he hotwired the little car
it was a good car
it ran long and hardhe had gone back to the condos
and nobody was there
he looked around a bit, and even waited
and nobody was there
eventually, he got fed up with that
and figured if it was important enough to seek him out
it would be important enough to seek them out
and so he followed that little niggling sense just between his shoulder blades
that itch that contantly presented itself in the back of his mindyou know the one
packwhich has brought him here
where, now, he pulls it over to the curb
sets the e-brake
glancing down to make sure there's a full tank of gas
some cash left in the glovebox to fix the broken panel
(he'll call a tip in, for the owners to find it, later)
even going so far as to lock the doors upon exit
one tall raggedy man, dreadlocks and tattered (but mended) trench to match
and down the street he goes(vashton)
~Good thing for him, he had no hairs on his arm. He lifted a hand to remove the hat from his head, in one motion his hair comes tumbling out, the silver mane massingdown his back and slighty over his face, shadows falliing to caonseal the light, an itimandating look taking over his persona as he started to step away even further from the crime scene, just a few steps closer to her, his hat being folded and tucked away in his back of his denuim jeans. Turing to look to her as she is beside him his speaks again, the sound of his voice a near whisperstointo the air, but the darkness making speak in vloumes~....When one has seen much as I have...you learn when to speak and when not too....Other times you just don't care anymore...~he motioned for her, to take a walk a with him. He was not in the slightest way showing agitation the silver presense, he just shrugged it off, walking slowly, just to get away~Vashton....thats who I am...~his voice seeming to carry a small accent not of this country, a ruff tone, with that dark demeanor. He turnes his attention back to the crime scene..but only for a moment...slowly taking his vision back to the one that was beside him~(rune)
PackShe feels it too, (now) does Rune, coiling between her shoulder blades, crawling down her spine, competing with the faint curl of hair-raising otherness unfurling there. Even given Rune's distance from Imogen, the Kinfolk's weapon still has an effect.
She doesn't glance back at James as he approaches. She doesn't need to do so. Doubtless, the scene unfolding before him will say enough. The stranger - with all his shadows, with the cascade of silver hair falling across his brow, glances at Imogen and murmurs something - softer now, so that not even the rumble of his voice can be gleaned from the air, even though Rune has taken several steps forward.
And then Vashton motions to Imogen. And then Rune stops dilly-dallying and walks straight toward them, booted feet echoing on the chill pavement, smoke spilling from her nostrils as she sucks in a last drag and sends her half-consumed cigarette to spark and die against the pavement.
"'Sup, Doc?" No more than that, and a stray glance from dark eyes. No more than a curl of the woman's red mouth, and a brief glance (chin rising faintly) toward the stranger. "Having a good night?"
(cole)
Another swig, his fifth one. Though he stops himself now, jerking the bottle from his lips and shaking his head in dismay. He screws the cap back on, his lips move but no words are heard as he mumbles to himself. Glancing at the crime scene and then to the ones talking nearby. He then eyes the rest of the area, letting the curiousity take over him. Opening the car door and placing the bottle inside, he then shuts the door locking the car up.(imogen)
She stares at Vashton, which appears to be something she does a lot, eye to eye, dark blue near black orbs unrelenting and unafraid. He motions to her, and she does not approach, her hands shoving into the pocket of her jacket, cigarette still perched between her lips."If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not." Healthy amount of caution in this one. At least in some things. Healthy amount of suspicion too, derision, and a general lack of ... well. Politeness.
Her eyes flicker toward Rune as she speaks, the cigarette bobbing between her lips as she speaks around the filter, ashes falling like snow flakes, "As well as can be expected," perhaps meaning the crime scene behind her, "Tell me," a tilt of her head toward Vashton, who has taken a step or two away from the crime scene, and thus a step or two toward her. But she moves no further close, "Have y'had the pleasure o' meeting Vashton... and I'm sorry, what did you say you're last name was?" this directed toward him, before back to Rune, the movement of her head indicating the silver haired man, "here?"
(james)
pack
maybe it's more than that
maybe it's more that has drawn him specifically here
rather than seeking out the others he calls family
gloved hands slide into his pockets
and the ground covering step lengths
it's a step that can devour cityscape miles
and it is just as effective in the slums as it is on Wall Streetthe distance between them thins
(how thin is it already? what joins them beneath their skin)
his shoulders drop, relaxed and easy
boots some cadence as they approach the trio from behindhe's overflowing with questions
when you're called back to an empty condo
you tend to get a little suspicious
or at least paranoid
but with the stranger about
he keeps quiet
coming to a stop just behind Rune and to the left
chin lifting in a hello to Imogen(vashton)
~he looked up, his head...his eyes turning to Rune.his thoughts....thinking a another one. Its had been two days and now there were three that he seen, he just didn't bother to even ask anymore at this point. A smile coming on his lips as he looks into eyes of Rune, a slight nod to her. A respect being shown in some manner, that he had attained from his mother, his smoke grey eyes filling her own. His hands start to seek the solice of his jacket but he does not put them up. The cold not bothering him, nuthing bothering him. He listened to her words and gave his own reply to them~...I didn't say what it was....~he looked to her, watching with no expression on his face...his insticts turning on, as yet another one stepped up. *Whats is this a party*, no comments offered but other than a hello to Rune, from that dark voice, the silent gets his eyes, looking long and hard at James, watching with astill no emotion their, looks like this wolf was alone on the wrong side of things on this night~..hello....(rune)
"Better than him, anyway," the strange woman replies, a brief gesture with one free hand across her shoulder toward the crime scene beyond. Gallows humor, and little sincere about it. It's not a joke she would ordinarily make, but it serves its purpose tonight: spacetaker, placeholder, marking time. It serves her well enough, and allows her to reply without using either the Bugs Bunny-esque moniker or Imogen's given name in front of the strange. "Which is always a bonus."As for Vashton here, no." Dark eyes flicker toward Imogen, and then back to Vashton. Something about her stance has changed now, too. No longer does she stand in a lazy, easy-slung slouch. Her shoulders are squared, her feet planted shoulder-width apart, and her body fairly thrums with energy. It's that energy that made the children part when they ran past her, an energy reflected and expanded by the presence of her packmate, an energy that Vashton will no doubt recognize as rage. "I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure. Just gettng acquainted, were you?"
(cole)
As he slips the car keys back into his pockets, a beep is heard. He almost jumps from shock and hurries to dig back in the same pocket. Out he pulls a cell phone, but the beeping has stopped. He presses on it with his fingers looking eager and anxious. Finally the button tapping stops. His face lights up, quickly he reaches for the car door. Unlocking it and hoping back into the Impala. Something urgent caught him tonight, thats evident as he speeds of through the streets.(imogen)
"It would seem so," she replies, looking at Rune only now, pausing for a half moment to suck on her cigarette, smoke trickling from her lips as she speaks again.Rune and James, perhaps, are used to (as much as anyone can be used to) the feeling of heritage from the small kinfolk, the bright shine of her blood against the dismal normalcy of humans. Though the hiss of silver is a rare feeling, though she's done it before. Both are at least aware that she has weapons, though their source might be a little vague. And the question as to whether or not she thinks it would do any good? Is up in the air.
"He's one of you," she says, dark eyes flickering behind Rune to James, not having the same connection as the other two do, and it's the brush of her dark eyes that serve as her greeting before she turns back toward Rune, "At least I think so. Knew what I was."
Each phrase is chosen and simply stated. Information Rune needs to know, perhaps, or knows for herself, but Imogen is unsure. Informing her of the short unheard conversation in quick concise sentences.
(james)
there's a cool, easy grin offered back to Vashton's study
while Rune bristles with her Rage
his? stays at that low, constant seeth
it's well in his control under this moon
seemingly fitting with the way he's dressedImogen's crisp in her work clothes
Rune's slick in her designer clothes
James? Is scruffy and raggedy in his quiet literal street clothes
and damn well comfortable that way, toothere's a bit of a nod to Vashton
but it seems that he's not the highest ranking here
is he
but this is his territory(Vashton)
~ice cold...that is what is heart is turning into, he looks between the three and just appears to be the odd man out in this one, but thats the way he likes it, an out cast is what he is...its what all chosse to make him. The beast withing starting to awaken with the presence of Rune's rage, how long can he hold on, how long can he surpress those instincts to just rip into something. He answered to man...or beast but his own. Seeking acceptence. No, just seeking....no real reason...he lost them all...and all that was left was his rage, and if things keep going to this way, it would be a demonstration....and not a small one. Nuthing was ever small on his part. He showeed so much restraint as he knew that he was infringing on their territory...but he can't simply give his full tittle here...To many prying ears around, and no one making a move to leave, he decides to...this was going nowhere for him and it was going no where fast. He looks amoung them once more and starts to trial off again, his feet taking him further away from the Crime scene a closer towrads solice and aloneness~(rune)
The Glass Walker absorbs the information Imogen offers, and responds with a brief nod expressing her thanks and a lingering flicker of dark eyes away from the strange. She glances back, and goes so far as to open her mouth to speak, but finds that he is already walking away.Dark brow rising in a lilting arc, she watches him with some faint, weaving sense of incredulity even as her mouth tightens into a fine, straight line. She pauses, watching him as he continues to walk, feeling the force of rage barely held in check (considering her pack, the feeling was familiar as her favorite leather pants) and fishes in her right pocket for another cigarette.
"You want to introduce yourself properly, find me sometime. We'll go someplace and talk." Her voice trails after him, but she does not. She remains where she is, shoulders turning to the side as she steps back, including James in the conversational space with Imogen.
(james)
his head tilts a bit
watching the stranger go
dreads a whisper across patchworked shoulders
a bit of that smile spreads at being included
not that he particularly minded not being in it, for that time
outranked and backup and all that
and even if he regards the two women as equals anyway
(what? a Garou regarding kin as an equal?! oh the tragedy! oh the audacity! oh, right, he's a Gnawer)
it's always nice to be includedand he waits until Vashton is far enough a way
(that was.. odd)
leaning in a little
and his voice is soft, even sly
dark umber gaze catching each woman in turn"Think there's a place we can go talk so I can find out why I had to boost and you're carrying again?"
okay he was a little upset at the empty condos
just a little
he thinks he held it together rather well(Vashton)
~If the others were not here, he probalby would have shown them...what he was and close to his tribe he really was. His ears catching the sound of her voice and just taking it in with a grain of salt as he raised an idle to show that he somewhat cares for the words the she spoke. He didn't look back, no point..they were quickly becoming a part of the past...a part of his past...Were they just a bmup in the road, or would they become his future in this dark world. A night so dark it almost makes him look bright, the silver hair trialig off underneathe the cover of the street lights. A hand comign to pull his ball cap from his back pocket, his hands straightening it out as he slipped it on his head. The black leather jacket holding a white-star on the back of, the five point star bright white, layered over the soft black leather~(imogen)
Her hand lifts to her hair digging through her strands, and undoing more than half the braid that was starting to come apart to begin with. The insanity of her hair is rarely contained for long. An impatient hand reaches down to pull the elastic free, sliding it around her wrist. "They just come outta the woodwork," she notes, quietly, her attention drawn back sharply as James speaks, "You boosted a..." she begins, before he finishes his sentence and she catches up, one hand stealing backward toward the small of her back, stopping midmotion as she realizes what she's doing, and the action aborts, rising instead to her mouth to pull the cigarette from her lips, exhaling smoke toward the sky, raising and obscuring in the air."Shit." She frowns, because it happened two freaking days ago, "the albino said she'd sent somebody," well, something, but anyway, "after you." After a while, Imogen'd simply decided it was a lie, or perhaps the spirit had been unable to find him, somehow.
Her head tilts down for a moment a faint nod as she ashes her cigarette toward the ground, her hair falling forward, some of it still caught in the once weave of her braid, the rest of it falling in kinks and curls over her shoulders and across her cheekbones. Eyes flicker back up, between the two Garou, "There's two perfectly good condos." Rather empty, too, as James has no doubt noticed.
(rune)
"It's fuckin' bizarre," Rune snorts, the words spilling out beneath the swell of her breath, muttered, half-voiced and impatient. Gradually, she shifts her gaze from Vashton's dwindling form abck to James and Imogen, flicking each a glance in turn. She glances down, then, staring at the ground as she fumbles her cigarette from its cardboard box and snags a lighter with the same deft fingers. "Fucking bizarre."The second declaration is left to float in the air, to settle, her only contribution to the conversation for the moment. Brows knit in thought as Rune's gaze shifts from James to Imogen - the albino? - but the expression is smoothed away when at last her cigarette is lit.
"Meet you there, then." Rune replies, pivoting in place to seek out Imogen's SUV. "Twenty minutes." There - there - the familiar vehicle, half-hidden by the bulk of a police car. "You wanna ride, James, or you wanna go with Imogen?"
(james)
there's that look
that almost assertive sheepish grin in the
Yeh, I boosted a car
sorta way
and his hand rakes through dreads in the
but I locked it and left a full tank of gas
sorta way
the nod is curtyeh, he noticed they were empty
and after the urgent message?
not. good."Yeh.... took a bit for Kota's messenger to find me, had some stuff to take care of in Albany."
and something about the way he said that
he probably wouldn't be back, yet, if he hadn't been called
but whatever ghosts are in those eyes
they disappear as he follows them towards the cars
lower lip gets sucked between his teeth in thoughtful nibbleurgent message to come back, regarding tha Doc
tha Doc that's carrying silver
riding comfortably with his l.... packmate"We'll meet you back there, Rune."
though there's a glance to Imogen
just making sure that's allright with her, too(imogen)
His reply results in a startled glance, enough to even break through her inscrutability, before her shoulders lift in a slow shrug, ascenting. She had no reason to say no, though she'd also thought he'd have no reason to make that suggestion.after all...
But anyway.
Her eyes flicker toward Rune, shadowed, as her hand digs into her pocket for her keys and her other hand pulls the cigarette from her lips, stubbing it against the wall. "Meet you in twenty minutes, then," she says, pulling keys from her pocket, and walks back toward the finishing up crime scene. A police man getting into his car, several men dressed in wind breakers similar to Imogen's but with Forensics emblazoned in yellow rather than OCME, stepping out and crossing the street to where they've parked their van. It's not exactly subtle, but more unobtrusive than some scenes.
The SUVs interior light turns on as she unlocks the car from the keychain held between her fingers, a faint click audible as she unlocks the other doors as well, so James can get inside.
It's unlikely any conversation would be offered, unless the Gnawer offered it himself.
(james)
once in the SUV, he doesn't particularly offer any conversation
a part of it is because, underneath all that.... ease?
he's worriedwhatever it was that the messenger said to him?
was important enough to get him here
and fastso he's here, now
in the SUV
weaving through traffic in a far less hectic manner than he's sure would be happening in the Beemer(rune)
Twenty minutes.Fifteen to drive back along the now-mostly deserted streets, decrepid porches festooned with sagging, sad little strings of lights and a rather confusing array of holiday figures: santa and his angels, the baby Jesus and his reindeer, Mary holding court over the crech with a phalanx of toy soldiers marching attendance alongside: the usual holiday non-sequitors.
Two minutes to gather an assortment of packages (she went shopping! ) and schlep them back into the condo. Long, slender fingers, a strong, capable grip: she can manage them all in one trip, despite the bulk and weight. Even the cigarettes - four cartons, enough to last two weeks, if she's lucky - dangle in their little net shopping bag.
Another two minutes to barge on in and let the bags fall, spilling across the plush carpeting. That leaves a minute, give or take, to grab a beer and settle carelessly on the breakfast bar, leaving the more comfortable couch free-n-clear.
(harlequin sinclaire)
*theres some kids santa didnt come to visit this year those who dont have homes dont have families, those who live in the human services appartments who with excited glee unwrapped their 2 dollar toys only to have them taken by the older kids broken by the larger ones and destroyed in fueds with the other residence in the over crouded houses. so it is for these kids harlequin is going shopping. the line of condominiums so much nicer than his own slum. the CD's that line his pockets. tut tut people leaving them in the car like that so silly when you think about it the distant wail of a car alarm blocks away marking his presense. as he makes his way along the street. eyes looking for that telltale sign of abandonment that i have gone south for the winter and left all my valuables behind(imogen)
She's actually careful of the time, because Rune actually thought to specify. It seems unlikely she would have specified it otherwise. 18 minutes to get there, following the speed limits, mostly on the way, hitting many of the stop lights that makes the silence seem even louder, until she breaks it by off handedly turning on the radio, its sounds quiet on the cusp of hearing. Generica music, mostly, which is likely why she doesn't play it loud. It's something to break the tedium of silence. Filling in where words do not.She pulls into the condo plaza, pulling to a stop in the parking spot beside the beemer. Nineteen minutes, now, as she closes the door behind her, waiting for James to exit, before the headlights flash as she locks the vehicle and a chirp as she arms the alarm.
She walks up the path as Rune is sitting down free and clear, letting James take the lead because, well, he lives there.
One hands pushes through her hair, pushing it over her shoulders and away from her face. At least for now.
(james)
he's been silent through the ride
he's been silent through the walk up the drive
he's even silent when the jangling keys come out to open the door
home
and even though he knows she'd be there
there's still that relieved smile that it isn't emptyhe makes a beeline for the fridge
dragging two beers out of the airlock closure
one cracked to hand to Imogen as she passes
the other taken with him to the couchand then he finally shrugs off the trench
still. damned. silent.
it's broken only after the long slug from the cold bottle"Now.... what the hell has been going on?"
(rune)
Rune's shoulders rise and fall in a lifting shrug. Lifting her swinging legs, she tucks them beneath her and edges back against the framing wall. Boot boots have been kicked off, somewhere amidst the packages she brought in, and her bare toes splay against the tiled countertop."I'm not sure." The lilting rise of her shrug repeated, dark eyes swinging toward Imogen even as she offers a casual gesture toward the bags tumbled from the foyer into the living room. "I went shopping."
(imogen)
All eyes on her now. Great. Fuckin' great. "The albino shouldn't have sent for you... or anybody," she mutters as she takes the beer, her fingers curling around the cool bottle, "If I'd known, I would have tried t'tell her no."Possibly because she didn't intend to tell anyone. Or possibly simply because she didn't need all the attention paid, and she would have brought it up on her own time. "He was already gone."
He?
She inhales slowly, as she moves to sit on an arm rest of the couch. "Some bloke showed up on the balcony. Knew my name, knew my tribe." Tightening of her mouth. Tribe. "Said he knew me, and was disappointed when I hadn't the foggiest clue who he was. Said I was needed, wanted, even, and that I would understand it all soon enough, that I had no choice." She's telling the story, terse as it is, mostly to the beer bottle, the floor, rather than toward the other two Garou as she passes on the information. "He said I would realize it soon enough. Forever, my love," her voice changes slightly, and in spite of the lack of actual story, it's in that slight change of characterization that her fianna blood holds true.
If she wasn't passing on information that something had happened where they felt she needed protection again (send me to a motel, and I kill you. Or go out the window), she might actually tell quite the yarn. "S'what he said. Then raised his arms like jesus on his goddamned cross and fell backward. Gone afore he even hit the fuckin' ground. the albino saw it. Said she didn't think it was good," and from her tone, Imogen at least has the sense to agree with that, "and that I shouldn't be alone. Disappeared for a while inta th'umbra," stumbled word, unfamiliar. She almost said ombre. "Came back, said she'd gone for you," with this she looks up, canting her head toward James, "and was going to do more voodoo things on the other side haven't seen her since.
She takes a swallow of her beer, sharply, and her shoulders lift in a faint shrug, as she brushes a bit of lint from her jeans, "Strangest thing, too. I hadn't a clue who he was, but damned if I hadn't seen him before."
(rune)
"You can take a few days off, right?" While Imogen is speaking, Rune is checking her voice mail, phone held negligently in her left hand, only half-an-ear for whatever it is she finds there. Her face tightens, mouth twisting into a frown. "Or at least, confine yourself to daylight hours, don't go anywhere without the cops, and so on, until we figure this out. I'd ask where you saw him before - " the phone held up, show-n-tell style, as she clicks it off and stuffs it back into her pocket. "But I have some family business to take care of. James, keep me posted, will you?"The Glass Walker slides from the bar, setting her barely touched beer aside as she grabs her car keys. Somewhere on the way to the door, she pauses to retrieve her boots, then pauses at the threshold, shimmying into her clinging boots. "James'll stay with you tonight, Imogen. We can't leave you alone at night for the time being, I'm sure you understand. We'll work out something with your schedule. I'll see you later."
The door opens and closes. Thirty seconds later, the Beamer purrs to life. Headlights flash across the front windows, and she's gone.
(james)
"Her name's Dakota."softly
then he listens
just. listens.
slowly (and quickly) draining that beerhe doesn't know where Decker is
but he knows he isn't around
so it makes some sense to him
his packmate's mate (his friend) is having issues
(he was never told? but he figured them out)
he steps in to help out until issues are resolved
or the packmate comes homehe's not going to drag her off to a motel
but it's not as nothing as she makes it
cause she's damn well carrying silver
and he knows she hasn't since the Spiral was killed
so, sum it all up
and it's safe to say he's got that feeling again
(seriously wicked mojo, man)"Yeh, she sent a messenger to find me, probably didn't expect me to be as far away as I was."
to why he was so far away from home, he doesn't elaborate
and the gaze ticktocks to his Beta
he came home as requested
(this is urgent James)
he dropped something very important to him for this
and he didn't quite think of what step two would be
nodding at the instructions
okay, there's step two
now about step... three"Okay, now? You're not alone. Tell me more about this crucified guy...."
(decker)
Back of the cab is overwarm, musty, and threaded with more than a little hint of exhaust smoke. The ride is quiet - silent, actually, except for the crackle of the ham radio - and long. The cabbie had considered bitching about the drive out to the Barrens, but something about his passenger dissuaded him.The eyes. The scent of blood. The silence.
Cabbie forgets to give him change. The walk up to the condo is slick with ice. The air is cold and the sky is overcast. He has no coat. These are things he notices only peripherally. Bone-weary, every step seems a mile. Every moment (in that place...) had seemed a year. It hadn't been the banes, nor the screams, nor the ceaseless battles, nor the wounds. What had struck him at the core of his being, in the end, was something he'd never talk about.
Top step mounted. Door's a few feet away. He's wearing the same thing he'd worn when he left. There are new holes in the fabric - rends from the claws of some unknown beast, jagged holes from gaping maws, long thin slashes, as though from some whip. Most of them revealing only unmarred skin; a few revealing lingering wounds. He shifts his shoulders, flexes them like a boxer stepping into the ring, and turns the door handle. Opens the door.
Come back to us, Modi.
He'd come back. In one piece.More or less.
(imogen)
Her eyes follow Rune, inhaling as if to speak, and probably protest, before exhaling sharply through her nose as her lips twist in a mirthless smirk, "shit." is all she says, half muttered under her breath, as she turns and looks at James as she speaks.No, it's not nothing, and she drains half her beer in a few swallows. She might consider pushing the issue, or arguing the possible house arrest (A few days off? I can't even get a weekend off. Never mind evenings or any other time.), she sets her jaw instead, her shoulders lifting, "I've told you most everything. I don't even know how he managed to get onto my balcony. I didn't see him at all. Like I said, he looked familiar but..." a shrug, "I couldn't place it." She pauses, her teeth setting hard before continuing, "Said he knew me from before. Something about.. .my effecting his life, or something."
A shrug of her shoulders, "He seemed very amused by it all. But..." the sentence trails and she tries to grasp the threads of her meaning, slipping between her fingers like water, "something was wrong." A twitch of her mouth, not quite humourous, "beyond the 'strange fucking man on my porch' wrong. Just..." Gears change, abruptly as she tries to find a way to make the meaning clear, "I knew someone once, who raped and killed some ten or fifteen women. I was there for his interview with the police. He made me feel the same way as this bloke."
She doesn't wax lyrical, and there's a faint sense that she's looking for simply important information. Whatever it could be, anything. To help them, or to help herself. As soon as they'd figured it out, Rune said, this would end. One might be able to understand that Imogen would be eager for this to end as soon as possible. She raises the beer bottle to her lips once more, swallowing deeply of the liquid.
(james)
there's a nod
wrong
he knows that feeling
his past two days have just been... wrong
wondering if the rest of the pack knew where he was
how much more wrong would it get?
(you're not supposed to mourn them, James)his beer's gone
seems that's becoming more and more of a habit, lately
he rarely drank at all before this
guess it's true what they say about being twenty-one
so there's the slow rise of long, lean body
the steady pace of boots across carpet back towards the fridge
that niggling sense between his shoulder blades
pack
coupled with the raking scratch at the base of his skull
silver
he's not going to push it anymore
(just what were you doing hanging around four.... five graves, Jamey-boy?)"Well... nobody should be alone with people giving off that vibe around..."
half murmued over the suck of the door opening
three bottles clinking as they're pulled from the confines
bottles hissing as three caps zing towards the trashcan
two in one hand
one held out with the other towards his packmate somehow making it through the door
a brief glance, a nod up
he figured out where he's been
(Your kids have nightmares? I'll give 'em to him)
but he doesn't say anything
it's not his business anyway
settling back into the deep couch
that second bottle set on the table within Imogen's reach for when she's done
(decker)
Nightmares. Nothing he hadn't had before. Nothing he hadn't seen before. Nothing he hadn't survived before. Nothing he couldn't take.Except for one thing. And whatever it'd been, it still haunts his eyes.
He pushes his shoes off. Half-disoriented still, half-feral, he's spirit slowly reverting to flesh. His gaze is steady on James, the only acknowledgment of the other's greeting. One dirty boot comes off, mud and grime caked to the sole, and then the other. It's warm in the condo. For that, he's grateful.
At some point Imogen's words filter through. He looks at her, watching her for what seems like a long time before he clears his throat. His word comes rustily, just a single one - "Who?"
(imogen)
Her head turns back toward the sound of the opening door (Hey, Rune that was.... oh.), eyes settling on the Fenrir's face, one hand reaching out blindly to put the empty beer bottle on the table and then picking up the one that James had given to her.If this goes on all night, James isn't going to last. While the Fianna cannot outdrink Rune, or likely Decker (though she's yet to put that to the test), she can certainly out drink the Gnawer.
She doesn't greet Decker, perhaps not wishing to waste her breath after his reaction to James's offering of booze. Or simply just meeting his gaze as he looks at her for what seems like a long time.
He speaks out rustily, however, a single word through a corroded throat. "I don't even know," she says after a moment, her hand lifting to dig through her hair, untangling the last tendrils of braid, and letting it fall loose over her shoulders in it's usual cacophony of colour. "Didn't get name out o'im."
Raising the now full beer to her lips, dark eyes slipping across the living room.
(decker)
Beer. Imogen's got one. James is holding one out. His body remembers it: the concept of food and drink. His grey eyes follow the arc of Imogen's beer bottle until he realizes James holds another out for him.He reaches forward, snags it, raises it.
Gulps.In the relatively quiet living room, they can all hear his throat clicking with each swallow. When most the beer is gone, he lowers the bottle, lowers his head, gives it a slow loose shake like a waking beast. All right. Okay.
Frown. Recollect thoughts. Frown harder. "He threaten you?" Decker hands the beer back to James and heads for the fridge.
(james)
no, he probably won't last all night
he won't last another two hours if he keeps this pace
he's getting a tolerance
but it's not that good of oneDecker's bottle is settled on the table, too
and that's about where his eyes go
other than the random shift and blink in tandem with tilt and swallowthere's a (tentative) touch in his packmate's mind
some impressionistic series of flashes and images
a quicker story than Imogen can retell
filling him in on what he knows won't be said(imogen)
It's the stare between James and Decker that kept her from speaking, and simply leaning back, a movement that is not repose, simply a shifting of her position, as she takes a deep swallow of her beer.It's like two people speaking a different language, except this is one she has no chance to learn. And so she waits for speech, or for some sort of change, some way of knowing that the conversation of the mind is over.
(decker)
It's the stare between James and Decker that kept her from speaking, and simply leaning back, a movement that is not repose, simply a shifting of her position, as she takes a deep swallow of her beer.It's like two people speaking a different language, except this is one she has no chance to learn. And so she waits for speech, or for some sort of change, some way of knowing that the conversation of the mind is over.
(decker)
The stare isn't held. James, if anything, would be looking at Decker's back. Decker is looking for food.The images pass anyway. The story is told, and there's some sort of strange tug-of-war between the unfamiliarity of total weariness, and the familiarity of aggression. Anger.
Could sleep for a thousand years.
Could tear someone to bits.He settles for heating leftovers. As the microwave turns and hums, he comes over to the table to take up his bottle again. He had a strange talent for occupying the same room as Imogen without ever intersecting her space. She had the same.
The microwave turns, hums, beeps. He heads back to get his food, aware that his presence had killed the conversation without really caring.
(james)
the microwave beeps
the scent of nuked food floods the condo
the Gnawer, then, stands againof all the things he knows his packmate needs
space is one of them
he recognizes that familiar aggression
of all the things he knows his friend needs
two Garou watching over her isn't one of them
with Decker here, she's not alone
so he grabs his coat and his beer and heads to the balcony(the silver is uncomfortable enough, the silence makes it just... peachy)
the door almost closed completely behind him
boots are kicked up on the ballustrade
a lighter flares, throwing his shadows on the sculpted stucco
and that's thick smokey haze floating back inside
whatever he looks at...it's not the stars that flicker above the city's afterburner glow
it's not some mystery that's hidden up above the frosted clouds
it's not even the casual study of the surrounding area
it's something in his hand(imogen)
Decker's eating, and moving around her space as they often tend to, as if neither are there, or as is if neither mattered (and sometimes she wonders). James gets up to leave, her head turns for a moment to follow him.It wasn't much of a conversation, anyway, and close to dying because she'd told him all she knew (it's amazing how a five minute scenario can change the way you live your day to day life, even for a short period of time), and there's only so many questions to ask. And there certainly isn't much of a conversation now.
Some of James's quietness, that edge-of-depression silence has seeped into her like an infection, or else she'd had it before she'd met up with the two Garou. It's one in the morning on a Sunday, and in spite of Rune's suggestion, she was going to work tomorrow. Part of her honestly believed that whoever it was wasn't coming back.
She's not hungry, and she doesn't want to ask about the look in his eyes, so after a moment, the palm of her hand scrubs sharply against the curve of her jean clad thigh and she stands, "I'm going next door." She says, picking up the half empty bottle of beer, and looking over at him for a moment, eyes passing across the path of lingering wounds half visible through clothing that has obviously seen better days and skin that has likely seen better days too. A momentary comment passes through her mind and dies before it quite reaches her mouth, saying instead, "I doubt the silver's all that pleasant, I'm going to put it away." And her foot steps start to take her toward the door.
(decker)
"No."Halfway through his food as he is (leftover chinese? something like that? can't tell, don't wanna tell), the word is muffled, nearly a grunt. She might think he hadn't heard her at all, or worse, didn't care. There's so much he didn't care about. His packmate stepping outside, for example. That hardly seems to register on him at all. It's all blocked out. Food: that's the center of his universe right now, in a mechanical way completely different from James' worship of his cheezy burgers.
Then, a click when he sets his fork down. He reaches across the breakfast bar to snag up a paper towel, wipes his hands, his mouth, tosses it aside. Progress. Evolution. From wiping on pants to wiping on towels.
Probably temporary.
Standing then: "Don't." Don't go. Has he ever said that to her? She's said it to him once, and nearly said it many times. He's nearly said it more than he can remember. Aware of the silence that stretches and stretches, aware of his body remembering what it feels like to hunger, to thirst, to tire, to lust, he shrugs. Lies, "Don't mind so much."
And then, "C'mere."
And when she does, he draws a breath like he might say something else. Instead, he reaches around behind her, his eyes following the motion of his hands as though he could see through her. He seeks out those selfsame silver weapons strapped to the sheath on her back, tracing the shape through windbreaker, sweater and blouse before reaching beneath her clothes. One hand's all he needs. He uses both. He draws them, one and then the other, and sets them on the counter.
One, and then the other.
Then, a strange moment. His hands are still chill from the night, shockingly so against the skin at the small of her back, warmed by all her layers of clothing. He draws her closer until their lower bodies are pressed together, but not to kiss, and not to possess. Simply enough, he lays his brow against hers, eyes shut, and listens to her breath. Breathes her scent.
A moment later, his hands slip from beneath her clothes to rest on her hips. He exhales and, again, meets her eyes.
"Carryin' silver again?" Makes him want to put her in a motel again.
(james)
he's outside
where it's quiet
there's maybe the sound of an errant car rolling through the lot
or maybe.... some car finding it's way down the main street
if he could hear the neighbors sleeping or fighting or fucking
he doesn't carehe almost forgets about the Camel burning its way down towards his flesh
it's an afterthought that finally flicks the half-wasted smoke away into the night
("Since when did you smoke?" Since I ran out of things to do with my hands)
it's blind luck that the butt makes it over the railing
he's still looking at his other hand
the one that's cupping a picturenot like he could ever forget the faces
and after awhile, it's folded
slipped back into a pocket as he stands
bottle scraping over the dusty glass of the small table
eventually there's piece of mind enough to lift it
the balcony door sliding open on whispering wheels
and closing just as unnoticeablyI'm supposed to keep an eye on her tonight it's barely there, in Decker's mind, maybe more of a feeling than actual words, exchanged as steps guide him across the living room Guess since you're back you'll be doing it.
he's watching the ground
(he's ignoring the jealousy)
climbing the stairs(imogen)
No. Her head turns, half way toward the door, one hand sliding through her hair as she looks at him for a moment, waiting for the finishing of his thought, of this sliver of conversation, one sided a s it may be. C'mere.And when she does (and she does), he reaches out, finding the security of silver beneath her clothing, the shape felt. The knife hilt. The curve of the sheath.
His hands are cold, for once, and goose flesh riples across her back, felt just beneath his thumbs as he traces the shape, both hands, when he needs only one.
There's no kiss, no possession, her forehead against his, hip to hip, and his hands beneath her clothes cold against her flesh. She inhales slowly of his smell, a mind that notices nuances catch the smell of sweat and blood, the smell of flesh scrubbed raw.
Her fingers, one hand cool from the beer bottle, the other normal temperature, trace the contours of his arm, cautious of welts, more felt than seen (because her eyes are shut, too) by changes of heat, swelling of the skin. His hands move, falling to her hips, and her own hands pause, not willing to move up further because his body is a road map of injury.
"Yeah," she doesn't speak loudly normally, and only inches from each other, she certainly does not speak loudly now, her voice low, stirring the air between them, "I figured if I was watchin'm'back, I should probably have somethin' to use if I actually saw something. Otherwise, there's no point."
[sort've paused until further notice]
Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 23, 2002.12.23.02. - home is where the heart is - merry christmas [rune][north jersey, condo]
(rune)
Sometime in the middle of the night - after seeing Imogen safely to her door - Rune lugged the tree and boxes of lights and ornaments from the truck to the condominium. She took a breather - a cigarette or three smoked in the frigid winter night, huddled close to the wall in hopes that it would break the bulk of the wind that whipped around like a little dervish before tackling the tree once more. It's rather hard to manage to hold a tree upright while simultaneously tightening the screws on the tree stand to hold it firmly in place, but with Eagle's strength and the added height of her Glabro form - who knew it would come in so useful for such things - Rune managed it. She was up until after dawn decorating the tree before crawling off to bed an hour or two after Imogen left - how much sleep did she get, anyway? - for work.The tree then: it's a live one, a pretty silky douglas fir, covered in every imagineable sort of lights, because Rune likes them all: bubble lights and chile pepper lights and little twinkling lights in every color of the rainbow, decorated with the sort of generic glass ornaments available in every drug store, and strung about with a garland made of Rune's colorful cigarettes threaded lengthwise through a long string rather that popcorn or cranberries or any of the usual sorts of garlands one finds on trees. There's no tinsel - it would be a bitch to clean up, would get all over everything - but there are long strips of irridescent paper coiled into mobius knots and settled here and there on the branches. Someone around six a.m., Rune realized that she had neglected to by a tree-topper. Thus, she made one herself, stuffing a short strand of lights into and around a glass beer bottle, which was upended and shoved down onto the highest branch. It seemed appropriate.
The lights in the condo are off, as are both television sets and both computers. Only the tree's (rather bright) glow and the soft filtering of the light above the stove illuminate the living room. The Glass Walker sprawls there, on the couch, a bottle of tequila settled between her thighs, shot glass balanced on her thigh. On the table: a salt shaker, a plate of lime wedges, and a platter of munchies: cheese cubes, shrimp cocktail, little cocktail weenies, just the usual supermarket deli appetizer platter. Smoke from burning incense (lit to relieve the room of some of the piney odor) spirals up toward the ceiling, colorfully illuminated by the tree's glow. There are only a few presents under the tree, expertly wrapped by someone other than the Glass Walker (no doubt the charity gift wrap booth at the mall, or the gift wrap department at Neiman Marcus, or whereever it is she went to shop.
Only two CDs are currently in rotation: a Charlie Brown Christmas (purchased last night, now the only Christmas CD she owns) and the Clash, in memorium for Joe Strummer. Rune prepares another shot (salt on the wet curve of her hand, lime wedge held between thumb and index finger), licks the salt, downs it, bites the lime and casts it away, then stretches to light a cigarette. It's oddly... peaceful in here, and so cold outside, so tonight is an exception, and she'll smoke inside.
(james)
it seems they both had looooong nights
somewhere in the afternoon
he had untangled himself from the pile of bushes that served as bed
Erik had made sure he was still attached to his legs
then sent the Gnawer on his (weaving) way
when he bought the bottle for the Fenrir
he had not expected to share it
(r.h.i.p. and all)an hour later he thumbed a ride
granted, it was a chilly one
he was in the back of an old Dodge pickup
but it was better than walking off remnants of the hangover
and at least someone had given the raggedy man a ridelong after dark, the truck rattles into the Rolling Meadows
and the Gnawer picks his way out of the bed
holiday wishes exchanged, hands shaken, even a friendly smileboots crunch on the remnant snow and rocksalt
weaving his way around the still slick spots
pack adjusted on his shoulder as keys are fished out of his pocket
out of the many hundreds of keys on the ring
he seems to find a specific one
even without any spirit candy
... yes... he has a key for this place.... homea little surprised at the darkness
a lot surprised at the sudden appearence of the tree
(that was not here before, he'd remember that)
dreads whisper across the shoulders of his trench as head tilts
boots sinking into the plush carpet
Jansport pack slipped from it's heavy perch and settled onto the floor
a bit of a grin at the soft music
a bit of a grin (that grin) for her"Hey..."
(rune)
"Hey," her reply, warm, murmured, is followed a moment later by the weight of her gaze. Inky strands of hair whisper on leather as she turns her head to catch a glimpse of him, then muscles her way from her complete and utter -lounge- (elbows digging into the cushions, dragging the long, lean body into a more taut curve) into something semi-upright but no less relaxed, careful of the bottle, careful of the empty shotglass precarious on the curve of muscled thigh. "Merry Christmas."Smoke spills from her mouth to accompany the word, further cutting into the pinescent that (despite all her valient efforts) still fills the corners of the room. Smoke, and more smoke, as she brings the cigarette to her lips with a casual twist of elbow and a negligent flicker of her rest, and draws in another nicely poisoned breath.
The curve of her faint grin (no smirk tonight. Not even a suggestion of one at the moment) is shadowed in the dim light, and those selfsame shadows soften teh sharp angles of her features - the arrogant cheekbone, the widow's peak, the defined curve of her jaw. "Welcome home."
(james)
dark eyes the color of mother's earth watch her
they watch this agile city creature moving on the plush leather landscape
and the smile begins to grow, further
(how he lo.....)
and his gaze tears away to the home-deco tree
dragging away to study the colorful lights and paper
the lighted bottle tree topper
that grin just can't seem to quit"Merry Christmas...."
the words so soft, a bare murmur above the music
he knows the others aren't around
(he. knows. they're. safe.)
steps taking him between the coffee table and the couch
straddling her knees with his as he sinks onto the laquered surface
a hand running through chilled dreads as his gaze drops
lower lip bitten in that grin
yea... the "home" thing still gets him"You've been busy."
sparkling gaze raises
above the exhaust collected on the ride home
he smells of the forest
he smells of the whiskey
(his head's still swimming a bit)(rune)
"I have," she confirms, with an offhand gesture toward the tree, made somehow elegant by the curve of her fingers about the burning cigarette. She rises another half-inch, leaning forward to stub out the cigarette in the ashtray tucked to the side. The shot glass wobbles precariously with the movement, but doesn't quite fall, not now, not yet. Empty as it is - only two clinging drops of moisture in the bottom - it wouldn't matter if it fell end over end to the plush carpet below."Imogen and I went out for a few beers last night," - more than a few, James can no doubt guess. Both women can likely outdrink him, after all, even if his tolerance is growing thanks to the alcoholic tendencies of the pack. "Then picked up the tree and some ornaments. I don't know - " the curving grin slip-slides into something wry and self-aware, though still untained by her customary caustic brand of irony. " - the snow, or the cold, or something, made me feel like Christmas."
The cigarette out, Rune draws in a deep breath to clear her lungs, and then another deep breath to taste his scent: exhaust, beneath it: woods, pine boughs crisp and clean in the chill air, the pungency of discarded needles mixed with leafrot, and the subtle sharp sweetness of whiskey. Beneath that: his scent, ineffeable and (always) present, familiar and comfortable as a well-fitted glove. "So've you."
And still, his grin (that grin) remains, and still, her grin (shades of that grin) answers his own.
(james)
he has no doubts it was more than a "few"
or more, a "few" for them drinks him right under the table
and there's a bit of a laugh, his gaze dancing away again"Spent yesterday in AC, picked up a few things, ran into Erik on the way back and gave him his."
which, obviously, lead to his passing out drunk in the middle of the Barrens
but his gaze can't stay away for long
not with her thoughtless elegance
not with that smile on her lips that's without her natural edge
not with the way the christmas lights bring a soft, colorful glow on pale skin
and when he looks back
he's just.... caught.... for a few, silent, moments
(breathless)
the shy smile ventures out again"Nothing wrong with the holiday spirit. I..... brought something back for you, too."
(rune)
"Whiskey," she murmurs in reply, grin quirking wider, amused. "I should have known what that meant."Rune uncurls her right leg and lifts it. Her toes crawl across his knee, bare foot settling upon his thigh, the arch fitted to the curved bulk of muscle beneath fabric and skin. Now the shotglass goes tumbling, end over end over end, falling to the carpet with a ringing thud, and soon the bottle of tequila joins it on the floor, though more deliberately: she picks it up and sets it down beside the couch. The Christmas lights bring a colorful glow to her skin, and gleam in the darkness of her eyes, which are made darker - almost black - by the absence of revealing light.
"I have something for you, too. Under the tree." She lifts her chin in the general direction, settles her foot back on the floor, and rises in a smooth, economical motion. For a moment or three, she stands there motionless, looking down at him as he sits on the coffee table. Then she reaches out brushes his cheek with her fingertips, pushing back an errant dreadlock so that she can see the whole of his face in a gesture of easy affection. The moment is drawn out, measured by breaths drawn and exhaled: one, two, three, until at last she invests her expelled breath words. "I'll go get it. We can open them together."
(james)
there's a soft chuckle
even Luc can out-drink him
there's a lazy crawl of fingers up her leg
starting from ankle and moving all the way up to her kneeand as. she. stands.
(oh, my, god)
his fingers fall away
but his eyes don't
they crawl up the length of her form
every intimate plane and curve
every well-known spanse of muscle and tendon
the tight stretch of leather
the soft cling of cashmere
the softness of her palm against his cheek
(the things he would say right now....)
there's just the curve of smiling muscle
something in that moment totally overshadows the the surprise that she got him somethingstill... he never expects to get anything
from anyone
even herand as she walks towards the tree
he leans to pull the lain down backpack closer
heavy zippers thick as they're opened
pulling out a little oddly shaped package
(hers was the only that actually got wrapped)
letting it rest easily in the cup of his hand(rune)
Bare feet whisper against the carpet, and clinging leather creaks softly as she returns from the tree, package in hand. This package - like all her packages - is wrapped, professionally so, by whatever saleswomen or college fraternities or high school cheerleading squads were offering the service, wherever she was shopping. Rectangular, in shiny gold paper with a red red bow a shade or three brighter than the lipstick she favors, it is about the size of a shirtbox, and when she passes it to him, (as she settles down onto the couch, cushions sighing a breath of air displaced by her weight), it is light in his hand.Rune resumes her easy, languid pose on the couch, sinking back into a lean lounge, planting one foot on the floor and lifting the other to settle once more on his thigh. Her toes flex and curl, kneading the muscle, sly counterpoint to the smile curling across her mouth as she accepts his package for her in turn. There's a brief interruption as the Clash comes on, but she grabs the remote and sends the discs CD player spinning back to Charlie Brown's Christmas (Christmas time is here...), which seems so much more appropriate at the moment.
There are no mirrors here, to reveal her to herself. There are no others here, in whose eyes she can see judgment or approbation, in whose eyes she could gain or lose face for this easy intimacy, this quiet affection, and thus there is no hitch, no interruption, no sudden smirking self-awareness to break the thread of whatever-it-is being spun between them. Not tonight. Not now.
"Count of three?" she suggests, finding his eyes as she casts away the remote. Her palm curls around the package, nails rustling against the paper. "One. Two..."
(james)
no smoke
no mirrors
only... her
and he can't help it
there's some entrancing thing that just has. him. hooked.
he has to blink when the box is settled in his hands
a split second to pull out from wherever it was his mind had wandered
letting the small, soft, light gift find its way into her hands
he just... can't stop grinning, can he?"Thank you...."
he just... doesn't know what to do with himself, really
he's not used to getting gifts
especially not one that's wrapped so professionally"...... three."
within her hands the package gives
it's soft and plush and light but there's a centered weight
some three foot square piece of holiday paper
which... he used most of
sharp nails cut so easily through it
and he can't help but watch her instead of what he's doing
even if he can feel the paper tear beneath his hands
it's so clear that it's not expensive or not much
whatever it is she'd need he simply can't afford
it's something that made him smile
it's something that made him think of her
(when does he not?)
the little red red red beanie bear that's now sitting in her palms(rune)
He doesn't look at what he's doing. He doesn't see the paper tearing beneath his hands. He watches her red red nails riiiiiiiiiiiip through the layers and layers of paper until the prize is revealed: the red red bear now steepled between her red red nails, the red red smile curving her red red mouth.It's a good thing he's not watching her eyes, or maybe he is watching her eyes, and maybe he sees something spark there, so achingly warm, before they shy away. Certainly, there's no heat beneath her skin, rising to briefly color her pale cheeks. Certainly, it is merely the reflection of the Christmas lights on the pale canvas of her soft flesh.
Thank you, James.
The words are a warm caress in his mind, and the tone says more than ever she can, than ever she will. They sink gently, softly, through the layers of his consciousness, wrapped in a strange, forbidden feeling, more than pleasure, closer to delight.
If the vision of her distracted him from the paper that tore beneath his hands, perhaps the sudden, intimate connection distracts him from the box as well. Perhaps he misses the Victoria's Secrets logo (she did not know what to get him. She did not know what he would accept from her. She did not know what his conscience and his beliefs would allow him to accept, and so - on half-a-whim - she chose this) as he lifts the top off the box, and pays no attention to the pink tissue in which his gift is nestled. Perhaps he does not even look down until his rough fingers graze some silky stuff, some flimsy garment that could not be meant for him to wear.
No, it could not be meant for him to wear, the silky, lacy black lingerie complete with garters and thigh-high stockings.
And as he shakes the pieces out, as he examines them (arcane, mysterious, enigmatic little strips of fabric and lace, whose function and shape may not be entirely clear until the empty things are filled by her familiar body), three envelopes fall out with soft chuffing thuds, crackling the tissue paper beneath.
Three envelopes. Three cards within. Happy Holidays! A donation has been made in the name of James Branson to.... Three organizations: Sojourner House, the Community Cupboard and Arts Collective, and the Martin Luther King Memorial Scholarship Foundation. Sojourner House: a shelter and transitional housing organization in Albany, New York. The Community Cupboard: a food bank and afterschool program funded day-to-day by proceeds from a thrift store and arts collective in Jersey City. The Martin Luther King Memorial Scholarship Foundation: an organization providing scholarships to deserving students in inner city Newark, New Jersey.
She has recovered, by now. Her eyes have found his face, and the delightful hint of color in her cheeks has faded, though the glow (the Christmas lights, the shining light in her eyes, the curling surety of the smile curving her lush mouth) remains.
(james)
he's watching her
(he can never take his eyes off her, or at least never his mind)
so he doesn't see what he's opening
he only sees that smile
there could be nothing in his hands and that smile would have been enough
more than enough
all he wants is to make her happy
and to hear that tone.... it's more than ecstacy
he can't say anything back
(dumbstruck)
that's when one hand reaches out
rough palm soft against her cheek
just held in a moment of (loving) silencethat's when his other hand finds the silk
..... silk?
she's granted a breif look of confusion, and a blink, before he looks down
confusion slips to incredulity
(pick your jaw up off the floor, James, that's rude... even if.... appropriate)
tentatively shaking out the little flimsy fabrics to make some sense of the tangles of strings and lace
(ho. lee. chit.)
that grin grows.... just.... grows as he figures it out
though pauses as the envelopes crunch tissue paper
and the exploration of the fabrics shifts to opening the little Happy Holidays! packagesthere's a look in his eyes as he opens the first
then the second... then the third...
just.... staring.... at the three certificates in his hand
before he didn't know what to say
now? he couldn't say anything if he wanted toand carefully, almost reverently, the paper is set back into the box
placed just on top of the silken mysteries
and the box is placed next to him on the coffeetable
those strong, rough, sure hands reach towards her
palms sliding up her thighs, grasping her hips
his weight shifts forward to let knees hit the floor
and arms find their way to circle her waist
pulling her from the plush depths of the couch and to the very edge
the embrace tightens until familiar curves are snug against his chest
the warmth of his face buried against her neck
Thank you whispered so softly across her mind(rune)
Her sly is a sly thing, and changeable. One moment gently, almost painfully raw (his rough skin against his cheek, the breathing silence unbroken except for the rustle of tissue paper beneath his other hand) and the next sly and sure and knowing (the arcane bits of silky things shaken out, the glance of confusion returned archly, the incredulity met with laughter, warm, centered somewhere low and rough in her throat.).His hands slide over her hips, and her body moves in almost involuntary response. Beneath the second leather skin, he can feel her muscles tightening, her body half-rising in natural response to his touch. He slides from his perch on the coffee table to settle on his knees before her, and her gaze follows him, never leaving his eyes. They are of a height know, she sunk in the cushions of the couch, he kneeling before her. His arms encircle her waist, dragging her from the depths of the couch, and her legs encircle his hips, completing the circle of their embrace.
And her smile - now hidden amidst the rough spill of dreads - is at once gentle and knowing, painful and sure. He can feel her heart beat beneath her breast, her can hear the tidal rhythm of her pulse which quickens (some storm approaches) as he buries his face into the warm curve of her neck. Somehow, her arms have found their way around his neck, and while one hand buries itself in the tangled vines of his hair, the other travels down, exploring the muscled planes of his back. In his mind, some soft, wordless sort of sound/thought, the most intimate of touches there, expressing so much more than mere welcome ever could, returned across the still-open channel as her arms and legs tighten around him with sudden, transporting strength, as if she might - by some strange alchemy, by some arcane ritual, by mere desire - bridge the barrier of mind and flesh and consume herself in him.
(james)
the way he holds her
the way he completely gives himself to her in this embrace
perhaps it speaks even more than the words he wishes to say ever will
so he's silent
save the even pull of breath that washes heated moist exhale against her neck
save the steady thump of his heart in cadence with hers
his eyes are closed against her flesh
but he's so. painfully. open.
some meager cup held for her to fill until he drowns
planes of hard muscle are supple beneath her touch
letting his body mold against her familiar curves
just... melting against her warmthwondering if she really does understand how much and what her gifts mean to him
minutes stroll lazily by
lit only by the blushing glow of the tree's lights
and some fire burning that only they can seeand there's finally something other than his breath against her neck
lips pressed against flesh, and she can feel the slow smile grow
his face never leaving contact as head lifts
pressing back into her hold in his dreads
bridge of his nose tracing the line of her jaw
dark, dark eyes finally lifting to find the light's reflections in hers
and once more, he just. stops.
lingers."Show me my present?"
murmured almost upon her lips
and the way one arm tightens around her waist
the way hips flex between her thighs
his other hand reaching to take up the box before he stands and takes her with him
that... that little grin growing
he already knows her answerPosted by james at 12:00 AM.12.23.02. - family and whiskey [levon-lars-erik][pine barrens, batsto village]
(james)
another hitch has dropped him halfway
there's something that he saw down on the Boardwalk
and he had to make the trip back to get it
getting there was the easy part
it was getting back that was always hard
at least he was able to get from AC to Batsto in one fell swoopor... ride....
tank boots crunch on the snow
the Jansport pack thumps soft against his back with each step
two long rebar sticks clanking in cadent rhythm
hands in what most people call rags and he calls gloves are shoved into the patchwork (glyphwork) trench pockets
dreads hang heavy around his neck cause he doesn't have a scarf
but he doesn't seem to mind it
he doesn't seem to mind the cold
in fact, there's something of a warm grin on his featureshe's happy with his day
(levon conway)
-Roscoe's tail is stiffer than a board, it points straight out horizontal, in a way it hasn't in...years. Lee's plain brown eyes can't seem to focus on one thing. There are too many trees, too many shadows, too many variables to see anything with even a smidgeon of clarity. A hand lifts and pushes back an errant long thin braid from her face, and the dog at her side lets out another warning bark, a sound that ends up a cross between a hound dog's bellowing bark and a wolf's howl, hard to place....unless you've heard it before and know the source.- Shhhhh, you're gonna bring it right over here..... - Her hands worry themselves with the seemingly thousands of braids hanging over one shoulder as she peers out into the pine trees, feet glued to the dirty, leaf laden ground-(lars mckinnon)
Pause.Stillness.
Silence.
The echo of that howl fading only now amongst the shuddering pines.
Head lifting as nostrils flare to taste the air. Eyes closing as he takes the deepest of breaths.
Jacket tossed to the ground as there is but a moment of shattering-shivering body.
Not quite man.Not quite beast. Softly trodding in between.
Lungfuls filled with the echo that is pitched. Pitched not to alert the whole forest of his presence but hopefully just one.
Just one. Yet there is only so much control even one such as he has. Any ears alert for such sounds on the outskirts of Batsto might very well catch it too.
Its a strong sound. Confidant nearly arrogant yet melodic in its sound.
A howl of authority but not claim. Not his land. Aversion to entering the village. Passing through.
(james)
that's odd
and his head tilts, listening to that single, strange sound
bark.... howl? huh?
that's something he hasn't heard for awhile
that's something he hasn't heard since he's been in New Jersey, honestly
cause that? is familygloved hands pull out from those pockets
reaching up to form a megaphone around his mouth
lungs fill with the chilled air
which is expelled in a short, loud... bark?he looks like some homeless guy
and most of those homeless guys just ain't right
so is there any question he's barking back at a dog?(lee)
-A bark. A howl, of sorts. The hair along Lee's neck bristles and she looks from the woods, to the winding street in front of her house, and then with a scowl on her face she turns her attention back to Roscoe.- Why did you do that? Now they're going to come here... -She exclaims with more than mild irritation. If keen ears were closer they could hear the jack rabbit thumping of her heart in her chest. Roscoe's ears switch, one up one down, but never both up at the same time. His tail stays straight and the old man lets out a huff, a puff of smoke pushes from his muzzle, giving him the look of some disfigured dragon dog thing. - Arooooooffff - Comes the sound from the old dog again, much to the quiet dismay of the small, waifish young woman at his side. They say a wolf's howl can travel, on quiet nights, almost a hundred miles. Roscoe doesn't have the energy to force out a loud, proud anything....but it's enough to tell any that may understand or be near....I am here, with my kin....-(lars)
The second echo causes him to pause again.Beast in the woods. Wild thing in the woods. Wild feral depths narrowing as nose scents the air once more.
Another?
Not your business. Yet, still there were too many (lost) unheard of and (gone) missing these nights to take chances.
Head cocking to the side as breath pants on the air to taste what nose only hints in.
Patience is a fleeting thing but for the moment holds.
Silence.
(james)
Aroooooffff
well, that answered everything
and the homeless man (obviously a few cents short) nods to himself
dreads slithering across trenchcoated shouldersallright James, this way then.
and he leaves the road
momentarily, he abandons his path home
and makes a segue towards a cabin
and then back around behind it
a bit tentative in his creep
he knows people regularly carry guns out in these parts
(not like they didn't in the inner city within which he grew up... of course)
chin lifting to see the woman and her canine companion at the edge of the property by the fence"Aroo?"
(levon)
-Lee jumps nearly out of her skin at James' little 'aroo', and Roscoe, he seems only slightly tense....but the sight of James eases the knots rising in his tired and old shoulders. He sits, sure that whatever lurks in the forest isn't intent on harming his kin. With rosy cheeks from fear and chilly air, and wrapped in layers of jackets and sweaters and a heavy coat, with long thin dark braids that fall to her waist, the too thin (sickly) young woman attempts to push her hair back from her face as she surveys the new arrival. Roscoe, meanwhile, lets out another huff and sits back on his haunches, amber reddish odd eyes now quietly focused on James - Hi. - She sees quietly, hands finding a home in the pockets of her thick nylon coat.-(lars)
The Thing in the woods catches scent then (downwind) of that which is so few yards between It and They.Scent that is City and Dirty and Wyld...nostrils flare then close as a soft snort announces almost a dismissal.
Kin to kin. He wouldn't dismiss it. For now at least though it isn't the time.
There is always the way back. And now? He knows where some of them at least area.
Strange that they would hole up here when there was a large City nearby.
Yet stranger much have happened.
Shift of body in crunching sounds as the silence around him prevades. The only movement now as everything else is frozen around him.
(james)
"Hi there."grinned
easily, warmly
at both her and the dog
if anything's out for harm
it obviously isn't him
(though if you saw him last night when the moon was full...)
in fact, he looks a bit sheepish"Heard your boy there shout out... didn't mean to startle you."
and while he's in a good mood
and while he's visably more relaxed than a few nights ago
his Rage is still as swollen as the almost full moon that will appear above
it floats around him like an invisable gauntlet
but he does his best to seem like he doesn't notice
how could he? with that easy grin..."Something wrong?"
(levon)
-Her nose is small, her features delicate. Yet, there is nothing beautiful or memorable about Lee, except for perhaps her frail weight. Her lips are full, not thin. Her nose is pug and small, not sharp or angled. Her hands shake like the branches of the pine trees around them.- This, this is Roscoe....-Her eyes wander to the dog at her side, while he still peers up at James with tired eyes that have seen far too much. James' rage rolls from his presence and bounces off Lee, leaving her thin frame shuddering in its wake. Her gloved hands look to his gloved hands and her breathing ceases, for a long moment and she sighs out a single sound- Oh...(erik)
Walks through the village purposefully, definitely a man with somewhere to go. Any othersout ont he streets shy away from him once and if they get a good look at his face. Horribly scared he has been, and wears them with the dark pride he is known for, though now he lets his hair hang in his face, long and black and obscuring his uglyness.He's got the sense that James isn't too far away now. Moves around alot for a 'Gnawer.
(lars)
And movement once more as fingers wrap leather around once more.
Feet moving in attempt to leave behind the encounters that would only fuel a fire already burning this night.
Another night perhaps. Perhaps not.Minutes afterwards in passage there is but a sigh in the woods. The soft cry of night birds and small furry creatures returning to their busy work as the thing which drove them away has finally left the woods behind.
(james)
his shoulders sag a little bit, as her eyes drop
he knows that reaction
(he knows how Decker feels all the time)
and he makes a point not to get too close
in fact, he doesn't even really draw any closer
though that soft grin still stays there
even if he knows what his Rage does to her
... he's just too damn used to being around kin like Imogen"Hey Roscoe.... name's James."
though to whom exactly he said that
has yet to be determined
at least he's finally looking up at her"I didn't mean to impose or anything, but he sounded like he wouldn' mind a hand with whatever got his attention."
there's that itchy feeling again
right between his shoulderblades
pack
y'know? for a Get?
Erik sure moves around a lot....(erik)
He passes many houses, all with their families wrapped up good and tight against the night's chill. Good for them, but he prefers to walk with his jacket open tonight. He passes another, and another house, and knows he is mere feet away...Then he hears voices. voices he doesn't know, and he stops. He is all quiet now, and shadow, hard to see even standing in the open.
(levon)
-It is not his rage, so much, that sets her on edge. It's his presence. What he is. He's a strange Garou, and though he is obviously blood....it makes her uneasy. Lee offers a smile, not as warm as James', but she tries. Roscoe, having decided that whatever it was in the woods is gone, offers a rather weak growl/whine/bark towards James. Lee, continues to push her hair from her face with gloved hands, eyes finally lifting almost defiantly to peer over at James.- Hello James....Roscoe....yeah he thought he heard something...he's so old he'd of lost teeth if he actually had to bite someone....-Another smile as she glances down at the old mutt, who offers a whine that could be construed as, likely, fuck off.-(james)
well
dreadlocked raggedy man
walking out of nowhere and into her backyard
talking to her dog as much as her
it's enough to set anybody on edge
honestly
garou, kin, or nothe seems to know that
but it's still hard for him
he hates making people uneasy he doesn't mean to
he's just to mellow for his own good, sometimes"You'd be amazed at how effective gumming someone to death is."
wry grin raking across his features
"You new around here? Haven't run into much family in the area..."
he's well aware of the presence just out of sight
even if he hasn't openly greeted it yet
or even made any overt sign that he knows
pretty sure his alpha has a reason for hanging back
so there's just a low sound, a soft chuff
riding silent on Eagle's wings(erik)
Hmm. Everything seems on the up and up. Its just that, well, his appearance, especially if sudden, tends to set the sheep to runnin.But James is there, and the kid knows that Erik is there also....
He just wanted to talk to the kid for a sec. Be with pack.
Decker's gone, in case anyone has noticed.So, after a moment the crunch of his boots can be heard rounding the house.
(levon)
-The old mutt at her side peers from James to behind him, and back to the woods. For ears that listen there are short spurts of meaning and words. Beyond the simplicity of a canine or lupus kinfolk. No, the sounds are a mixture of whines and pitches and soft growly barks, each tone holding a meaning and words that mortal ears (and even kin ears mostly) cannot hear. Lee, is different that most kin. Had Roscoe not identified her as such....the out come and their judgment of what she may have been would likely of been different. There is something spiritual about Lee, something that is more apart of the Garou than is so in most Kinfolk. The words the mutt speaks are simple Roscoe-Gnaws-the-bone Theurge the long roll call of his Garou name is forgotten, as he peers up at Lee. - No, I used to live in this house...but I live in North Jersey.....now....(levon)
-Plain brown eyes shift to peer at Erik, and if Lee were uncomfortable before, the hair on her arms are standing on end now. Roscoe is now intent upon Erik, and he stays close to his kin, protectively.- I don't ....socialize much... - She replies quietly to James.(erik)
He approaches smiling, though to Levon and Roscoe it looks like a cross between an sneer and an open challenge. Toothyness all pulled down on one side by the scars."Heya." The greeting seems to include everyone, even Roscoe. "Don't worry, I know I'm ugly so ya can stare all ya want. How's it goin, Kid?"
(james)
yea, he's noticed allright
and he has a good idea of just why... though not where
but it's not his place to question
so he didn't
but his attention is focused (openly) on Lee
and the long string of sounds that mean a conversation from Roscoe"Really? Up where I am.... but I hadn't run into many of us up there, other than Howl. Good to know."
for whatever that's worth
and when boots crunch on the snow behind him
he turns
nodding up at Erik with that trademark easy grin"Good, Erik. Just on my way back up from AC and ran into some family."
(levon)
-When James shifts his attention to Erik Lee's shoulders relax and she leans a bit to one side, gloved hand stroking the top of Roscoe's head tenderly. She listens, just doesn't speak....-(erik)
"Family, eh? that's cool. Well, good to meecha."(james)
his grin doesn't leave
even a nervous stranger?
as family? is'all good"Well..... if you ever need anything Northside... Roscoe'll know how to find me."
yep, Barking Chain
he's pretty well known in it up there
one bark leads to another, and all that
and he makes a move to leave
(he knows how nervous she is with two strange Garou around)
but doesn't go more than a shift of weight
Alpha's here, Alpha's call(erik)
"Cool." He watches the kin and her dog take their leave, as he and James find a new space to talk. Perhaps back further in the trees and darkness.(james)
there's a bit of a wave at the Kin
but he turns and follows his Alpha
into the darkness, into the trees
y'know, most others wouldn't follow a man that looks like Erik anywhere
but the Gnawer?
he follows without a doubt"You needed me for something?"
he's getting good at reading the expressions carved by the scars
the I was looking for you one getting rather familiar
plus, he knows Erik doesn't just show up for no reason, too(erik)
Well, suprise suprise, and, you learn something new every day... "Actually... No. I was just lookin fer company."(james)
that you do
and it shows with a slightly lifted brow
he gets over it pretty quickly, though"Oh, good, saves me from carrying this back myself, then."
the Jansport is shifted on one shoulder form front to back
the zipper pulled and a gloved hand reaches inside
pulling out what seems to be a bottle in a plain brown paper bag
a big bottle
and he holds it out to his Alpha"Merry Christmas, Erik."
it's whiskey
damn good whiskey
and while it's nothing big and out of the ordinary?
it's that giving season
(well, it always is for James)
Erik shouldn't have to buy his own for once(erik)
He sneers, but for once the smile in his eyes shines brighter than the fanatic light, and reveals a smile for real. "Is it christmas already? Fuck... Well... Let's drink it!"(james)
"Well, in a day or two."but with Erik's penchance for going on his little trips
better safe to give it now than let it sit around with condo
and with that snee...er.. smile, well, the Gnawer all but beams
even above fighting for Gaia
what drives him is to make others happy
especially others he cares for like he does the pack"Your bottle Erik, though you'll probably end up carrying my drunk ass back Northside."
yes, we all know James can't drink
at all.
but that doesn't mean he's going to pass this up(erik)
He cracks the bottle and takes a long hit, sputters a bit, then holds out the bottle to James. This goes on for a while, another bottle is stolen, thanks to the alpha's gifts until the two are carrying eachother out into the forest, where they will have to sleep it off.Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 21, 2002.12.21.02. - silly [rune][north jersey, cont'd from previous scene]
(rune)
Rune settles into the passenger seat quietly enough, unfolding her body into a lean, compact sprawl that consumes all the practical space alotted to her. Even though the atmosphere has changed for the better, and even though she does. not. smoke. in her car, it's not that easy to just come down when pissed off, and Rune wishes she had not extinguished her cigarette.3:20 a.m. That's what the dashboard clock declares, and though the streets are slick and wet with new-fallen snow, the traffic is at least quite light. Most bars have closed, most drunks have crawled off to continue partying at home, most sane people are long since in bed, and even the early morning traffic is thin to non-existant on a (very) early Sunday morning.
After some more aimless driving, she draws in a long, slow breath and lifts her chin faintly. "...where're we going?" Though she is not speaking in a particularly loud voice, the words sound loud to her ears, in the small, quiet space, in the vast, quiet night.
(james)
he's concentrating on the road
both hands on the wheel, and all that
but still his shoulders roll in a shrug
a moment of idle thought
only glancing over once they're stopped at a red light"Pick out a christmas tree?"
at 3:20 a.m.
mmhmm
it's about now his hands relax the deathgrip on the wheel
brought on by the slick roads and the rolling storm beneath his skin
his tongue hurts from where he was biting it
but lips curl into a breif, yet silly little grin
at 3:20 a.m. - right."I don't know.... I just.... needed some air. Or something."
green light James... ease into first
(rune)
For his effort at humor, James receives an amused little snort and a sidelong glance, the first she has bestowed upon him since they climbed into the Beemer. Her hand unfurls and grazes across his hand on the gearshift, the faintest almost-touch and little more. There's an impression of body heat, the cool graze of her nails over his flesh."I needed some air, too," she replies, quietly then. Her hand hovers for no more than three seconds, before she folds her arm back to her side. Soon enough, she reaches out to adjust the vents for maximum heatwave blast, then adjusts them again and again and again for maximum per-fidget value, or something. "Thank you, James."
(james)
being a boy from Albany
he's.... almost melting in the car by now
beneath his heavy coat and multiple layers
being a girl from California
(at least recently and for all he knows)
he leaves it on, letting her fidgit and warm
for all the car's production of heat is worthbut there's a nugget of surprise
which affords another glance
before dark eyes dart back to the road"Welcome."
even if he isn't sure exactly for what
even if he isn't going to ask to clarify(rune)
And so the miles pass. James is almost melting from the heat, and Rune is barely warm despite the blast of directed and redirected heat from the directed and redirected vents. The careful cruise through the quiet streets passes quietly, and she doesn't even move to switch on the radio to its usual blast.No. Tonight the music to which she listens, and intently, is the changing rhythm of her breathing - which slows as her temper cools until it almost matches the rhythm of his - and the thrumming purr of the engine, and the night's sounds filtered through the metal and plastic and glass that comprise the Beemer's frame.
Half-an-hour, perhaps more passes thus, until she is at last content with the placement of the heater vents, and drops her hands away from the dash, until she is no longer longing for the cigarette, until she looks at the dashboard clock once more and sees 4:03 in bright, glowing numbers on the little screen.
"You ever just want to go to lover's lane and... neck, or something?" Dark eyes sliding slyly over his reflection in the windshield, finding and meeting his own reflected eyes before she turns and glances at him for the first time since they climbed into the car. "You know, like they do in the movies?" Garou adolescence is so naturally, so necessarily consumed by preparation for and participation in the all-consuming war.
(james)
yet again.... she catches him by surprise
he had been listening to the engine's humming purr
he had been listening to the slow match of rhythmic breathing
he had been listening, deeper, to the steady thump of her pulse
he had been listening, even deeper, to the ebbing thrum of calming Rage
and her surface words...
they startle him back to the outer sounds of the tires on slushand that's when his gaze is drawn to hers, again
not just in the reflection of the window
but in the hard, physical realm
chancing a glance from the graysnowed asphalt
chancing a glance to the sleek, bundled woman beside him
a brow lifts
the edges of his mouth lift
(it's not that look but it's that grin)"Yeh, actually.... is it a right or a left at the next light?"
(rune)
"Try a right," she murmurs, flicking a casual gesture (long-fingered hand moving with understated grace) to the streets before them. "...but I don't think it matters."She catches the rising edge of his grin (that grin) and swallows her own smile, which rises in response, looking away. After all, if one is going to play the game, one might as well play the part, even if that part no longer comes naturally (if it ever did). Imagine her as a sixteen-year-old. Now imagine her as an ordinary sixteen-year-old. The puzzle pieces don't fit together. They must be forced into place, and the resulting image is only an impressionistic - possibly cubist - rendering.
He drives. She leans forward and rises from the hips, peeling off her coat with care and folding it to the floor, for lack of any better place to put it. The car is warm enough by now, and no doubt he will keep her wam, even if the blasting vents are turned off to save drain on the battery and damage to the environment from the constantly burning gasoline. Coat gone, she is left in a fitted sweater and leather pants, the former a creamy off-white, the latter pitch. black.
"I hope you're not just trying to get into my pants," she murmurs, affectedly shy, naturally sly. "My rule is strictly, no hands below the waist on first dates, and I stick to it, too. Ask anyone."
(james)
"I wouldn't know who to ask...."idly mused through the turn.... right
it's true though
if it's not him?
he doesn't know, he doesn't ask
it was never any of his businessand there's even a soft, thick laugh in the car's building heat
(how much of it is from the vents, now, James)
even if he didn't look at her
he was more than aware of the jacket's peel
and what it revealed beneath"I can keep my hands above your waist....."
brake, pause, red light
first gear, accelerate, green light
finding some back road
any road
whatever seems close enough to deserted
stop. park. e-brake.
turn. look. focus."....anything else I just can't guarantee."
(rune)
"Oh, good," she murmurs, her voice husked and thick, not from the evening's cigarettes, not from the cold, throat-burning air swirling around the car outside, not from the dry heat that spilled from the vents. It's the warm heat between them, the sudden, sharpened knowledge of his gaze upon her, the awareness of how very close they are, and the wicked promise of his words.He stops, parks and brakes. He turns, looks and focuses, and so he can see the shiver of anticipation that ripples up her spine, he can hear the faint catch in her quickening breath, he can catch the scent of her skin as she twists and rises from her perch into an awkward pose, back curved against the hard-convertible top, feet planting against the sliding coat, knees grazing the forward lip of the bucket seat. He can feel her body heat swelling from the casual graze of her fingertips across his face, and he can taste her skin, as she traces the line of his lip and presses her thumb forward to find the heat of his mouth beneath.
"C'mere, you," she murmurs, free hand grabbing the lapel of his trench and pushing it back, finding the fabric of his shirt beneath and dragging him across the divide until he is settled in the passenger's seat and trapped between her knees before she succumbs to gravity's call and settles herself firmly in his lap. The close quarters make the maneuver awkward as anything, but atheletes that they are, they manage it with something approaching grace tonight: some fluid, predator's grace, stalking, hungry.
"Hands above waist, please," Rune murmurs as she shrugs out of her clinging sweater and tosses it casually aside, finds his hands and settles them over her flesh. Then she leans closer and finds his mouth with her own. The kiss is nothing more than a long, slow tease, threaded with the faint promise of aggression that flares onto when her teeth close over her lower lip. Her eyes flare open, and seek and find his own, scorching and sure. "Good that you're making no promises about anything else," she continues, releasing his lower lip and sliding her hot mouth along the line of his jaw to the hollow beneath his ear. Her tongue presses against the concave curve there, and something like laughter ripples through her body. "because I'm expecting you to fuck me silly, and I would hate to be disappointed."
Posted by james at 12:00 AM.12.21.02. - .....yuff? [rune-dire-imogen][north jersey, condo]
(james)
the weather is hovering around freezing
the light sprinkling of rain has turned into a light sprinkling of snow
adding to the various levels and mounds of white that re-shape the Rolling Hills landscapes
ah, the haphazardry which wreaks havoc on manicured lawns
that for which the rich pay their monthly rent
now suddenly lost and forgotten beneath the blank slate white of winterhe can't. help. the smile.
no, really.
he can't.and so into the falling snowflakes he exhales a moist, warm breath
a sheild of fog against the battering snow
or something like that
oddly relaxed, even beneath the cloud-hidden pregnant moon
(oh, the Rage is there, allright, still plump and seething)
it's cigarette smoke as much as it is breath
camel dangling between fingers attached to wrist resting across one raised knee
boot planted firmly on frosted step
the other is stretched out, perched a few notches down
and he's half-sitting, half-reclining against the railingfor some reason
he's sitting outside, now
instead of inside where it's warm
letting the snow catch and melt on jungle-vine dreads
letting the tails of mended trench soak up the rain/snow that's falling around him
deep umber eyes lifted to the sky above
as if holding some personal conversation with Luna herself
and it required his undivided attention(dire)
*The dark blue Jetta with the ground effects pulls into the complex. Going slower ofver the speed bumps this time (HE LEARNS) the car pulls into a parking space. Poers down and the door opens. Stepping out Dire streches.Dressed as normal. Steel toed boots, jeans, green flannel again, Leather jacket two sizes too large. His blond hair and icy blue eyes bespeek his heritage. If he were any whiter he'd be translucent.
He leans back into the car and grabs out a couple of pizzas and kicks the door shut with a heel. He starts up the stairs to the condo and sees James. He pauses and nods his head* Drums Yuf. *He offers the pizza mutely*
(rune)
The door sweeps open, the narrow strip of weatherizing (or whatever it is) sweeps over a thin coating of snow only at the extremes of the front door's range, for the space immediately in front of the door is protected by a narrow overhang.Into the chill night, she goes, from within the warm womb of the well-appointed interior. There are, no doubt, only a few things that would drag Rune voluntarily from luxury to such straightened circumstances (the cold and the damn. snow. do not agree with her. when her family left Minnesota, she swore she'd never go back to such a place ever again for the rest of the fucking life thank you very much. It's a good thing the universe does not take the vows of pre-teen girls seriously, or Rune would have entered a period of cosmically enforced celebacy subsequent to breaking the vow and moving to cold, drab, ugly Jersey.) other than a good fight, but tonight there are two: the cigarette in her hand, and the creature half-leaning against the porch railing, watching the snow as it falls.
Clogs left by the door for just such moments (only going out for a minute, only going out for a smoke) crunch on salt scattered to melt away the ice, and then on the first layer of new snow. She makes an impatient gesture, and lights her cigarette before slipping her free hand into the relative warmth of the sleeve of her lush cableknit sweater. Dark eyes sweep over Dire, but she remains silent for a moment, concentrating on sucking the nicotine out of the cancer stick in her hand as fast as she can.
(imogen)
The light sprinkling of rain has graudated to a light sprinkling of snow, leaving the rain buried beneath the thin blanket of white to freeze, causing treacherous black ice to hide invisible against the road. It's none so bad, yes, but the weather alternating between brutally cold and pleasantly warm promises that this winter will be an icey one. The roads are slick, but not deadly. Drive a little slower, and you're fine. For the good doctor, that meant driving the speed limit and taking the turns at something a little more along the lines of a decent speed.Admittedly, however at this time of night few are out on the road. Just a medical examiner returning from home and a slightly defective gobling hunting Fenrir.
Thankfully, she drove in after Dire. Into her parking spot, by either the empty spot of Rune's beemer or beside the Walker's baby, the engine cutting off, and the headlights dying. The door opens, the interior light flicking on briefly as she pulls herself from within, stepping out into the fluttering snow, flakes entangling in the chaos of red hair. One hand lifts, grabbing the collar of her jacket as she flicks it up with a careless movement, closing the door of the silver SUV with a hand, a half after thought.
She steps out onto the walkway, beginning to walk down the slippery path, one hand shoving into her pocket. The paths branch between her Condo and Rune's, and with Dire's back to her, James is the only one to see her. Dark blue eyes flicker to the expansive back of the pizza-toting galliard, before passing over to the Gnawer, giving him a faint smirk that likely passed for a silent greeting as she begins down her own walk way to her own stairs, eyes drifting up toward the sky, giving an impression of falling clouds as the snow drifts down, and it's full moon, glowing through the cloudcover.
(james)
as full as the moon is
he seems so relaxed
a brow slowly lifting to watch the Jetta pull up
(that's not a car I recognize from the residents....)
then to watch.... Dire? step out
(Dire behind the wheel???)the other brow lifts to join its mate as the Skald speaks
it's the suffix that surprised him
an inhale speaks of the delights hidden in the box
meat.... and double cheeeeze
there's something in the Gnawer that can't help -that- smile, eitherthat dangling hand gestures towards the steps beside him
the other unfolding from it's supporting role against the step behind him
reaching for the box
nodding up at the car
nodding up at Imogen, too"New ride?"
he doesn't need to look back to know she's there
he doesn't need to turn around for her to know he knows
pack just don't need to speak out loud, sometimes
and his greeting is heard enough
some soft sound at the back of her mind(dire)
*He offers it to James and nods turning to look back at the tricked out Jetta he's "Aquired"*
Yeah. Didn't figure 60 mils walk would be good for the pup in and out of town. So I got a car.
Still figuring out what all the buttons do. I rarly hit anything though. * He smiles and nods to Imogen and looks up nodding to rune* Rhya.(rune)
Sound bleeds from the half-open door behind her, a sheer wall of visceral noise, though turned down to an acceptable level. It disturbs the night, and Rune reaches to shove the door all the way closed with an irritated gesture: her clothed elbow against the door, burning cigarette held briefly between pursed and painted lips."Imogen," Rune murmurs, catching a sliver of Imogen's smirk, and returning it as she lifts the cigarette from her lips and reaches to flip ashes into the plantings below. Her arm falls negligently to her side, then, the cigarette lilting precariously from between fore and middle fingers. There's a polite nod to accompany her uncharacteristically reserved responses. "Dire."
Rune does not greet James aloud. She responds to the soft sound in her mind with another one, just as soft, that is in no way betrayed by her casual body language on her hard little smirk. Then, half-a-moment later.
When'd you start smoking?
(imogen)
The scenario would almost be peaceful. Snow has a habit of muffling the world, burying sound beneath air and whiteness. It's nearly christmas, not even a week away, and in some ways, the falling snow would be peaceful.Even as she walks up the steps seperated by six feet or more, she can feel the Garou's rage, combined and burning, a pulse that raises the hair on the back of her neck. If she had been feeling any peace, returning from her morbid work as she must be, it is unlikely she felt any peace now. Dire smiles and nods at her, and she pulls her hand from her pocket, raising her hand slightly in response. Rune returned her smirk, and so very little other greeting is offered.
Keys jangle as she opens her door, shoving the brief case inside, and pulling the door shut again, the locks clicking as she closes it behind her, still outside on the ice of the porch. Her eyes are a dark night blue and they run across the balcony, gauging the iciness of the surface.
Icy enough. She turns, beginning to walk down the steps again, her hand, likely cold in this weather, particularly with no glove, trailing lightly on the railing.
(james)
his head tilts
something of a furrow developing on his brow"Pup?"
something the Gnawer hasn't yet discovered, obviously
of course, he isn't one to openly inquire to the others about the Skald"And driving's something of an.... acquired taste. You'll figure out the buttons in time."
while he questions Dire's sanity
he has no doubts that he's smart
just..... different.
and he hasn't drive more than a handful of times himself
so he can't knock the Get's effort and accomplishment in avoiding crash and burn so farthere's a breif glance down to the cigarette in his hand
as if deciding to finish it or not
or to figure out to smoke then eat or eat and smoke or....
When I ran out of things to do with my hands when you were on the phone.
he didn't feel like tempting the PS2 tonight
(or his Rage at it, just in case)
but while she was making her calls, he had little else to do
so went on a short walk
and, apparently, bought cigarettes
he doubts he'll finish more than one
but he didn't want to invade her space
the conversations were important and none of his business
she'll also find there's a 12-pack now chilling in the fridgeand he doesn't mean to be rude, just sitting here on the porch with the pizza
but while he considers the place home
it isn't his
and it isn't his place to invite others inside
especially with the Fostern right behind him
a bit of that grin widening for the Kin"Dire brought us pizza, want some?"
he always includes Imogen
he always simply considers her a part of the pack
even if she's Decker's mate, and not even of any of their tribes
it's just his way, there's a fine line between Gnawers and Kin
even if he'd never say it out loud - just because it would probably never come up
if they eat, and she's there, she eats(dire)
*He nods up to Rune.* The information your uncle gave was correct Rhya... Decker and I captalized on the information. * he nods* Thank you. * Turning and watching Imo decend the steps again he assumes, she's heading their way and hops up to perch on the rail. Squatting. His Steel toed boots and natural suppleness, amazing dexterity and all letting him do so with out falling off. Well yet any way* Decker was not perminatly ingured Imogen. He found well and with honor. We ended the threat to the children.
*His head turns. the Icy blue eyes holding no malice. No judgement in them. He nods to James* Carmen. Get kin. She's about 4 and a half. Mother died.(imogen)
As assumed, she crosses the space between the two condos, beginning to climb the steps as James speaks.A faint lift of her lips at James as he includes her in the offer for food, eyes flickering toward the pizza and taking a glance, "No," she decides, shaking her head, "Ate on the way home," drive throughs are likely one of her favourite benefits of living in a large city, "May I bum a smoke, though?" a half gesture toward the Gnawer, palm up.
Dire speaks, and she glances at him, Decker wasn't... what? Somewhere the lines didn't connect, because she had no idea what on earth information Rune's uncle had. An eyebrow lifts slightly hand still absently held out to James, unless the Gnawer decided to keep all the cigarettes to himself.
Her attention is side tracked, though her eyebrow remains raised, this time in a more solid query, "What happened to the mother?"
(dire)
*Watching Imogen he tilts his head and sniffs the air. Looking out into the darknes he mutters very softly to himself "cat." and then looks back to her* Self extermination... I forget the english word. * He looks to James and Rune and speaks in high tongue "Suicide" and srugs looking back to Imo* The pup found me on the street. Quite spirited. Smart as well. Took me back to the house and I found her in a car in the garage. car running. I bused the window and took her into the house. She was dead. Nothing I could do for her.(rune)
"His information is usually correct," Rune shrugs, eyes narrowing into focus on Dire. Her attention shifts from the Get to Imogen, lingering as she waits for Imogen's response to the offer of pizza. The no cinches it, and Rune remains where she is for the moment, certainly making no move to invite anyone in, though she well may after staying out in the cold for much longer.It's a childish gesture, but she shrugs one arm from within her sleeve and drags it across her abdomen, beneath the thick weave of her cable-knit sweater, in some attempt to contain and conserve her warmth. Thus, her body looks oddly misshapen beneath the thick winter sweater, with the shape of her arm distending the knit across her abdomen.
"Suicide." Rune clarifies to Imogen for Dire. "That's what happened to the mother. That's what he means."
(james)
malice?
why would there be malice?
why would there be judgement?
they're supposed to be 'good' right?"You doing allright with her?"
he just never pictured the Skald with a pup
(though oddly it doesn't suprise him)
and he knows they're not easy to raise
though where his concern is placed in the question remains to be questioned
his question, though, seems to become internal againone hand is filled with the smoke
the other with the steaming pizza box
and, well, the Camel pack is in his pocket
so the smoke goes into his mouth to free up one hand
head tilting as he's still getting the hang of that not getting smoke in your eyes thing
and the pack is withdrawn to hand over to Imogen
in that s'all yours sort of way(dire)
*he nods to Rune* Thank you Rhya. * he smiles to Imogen* Suicide. My english came after High tongue and after french. Sometimes getting the correct word is hardShe'd killed herself via Suicide. The fumes from the car. * he snorts* Almost as bad as the ones from the place Decker and I hit the other night. She was luke warm by the time I got there. I took the pup out of there. Was going to bring her to you, Imogen, to be honest but she kinda got hooked on me. Then I found she was kin and she likes me. so... * he srugs gently* I went back and handeled the body so noone will come looking.
*He looks over to James and smiles nodding*
Oh yes. We get along fine. She loves me. I feed her 3 times a day and dress her warm and I'm teaching her things. She's very bright for a human pup... not that I have any experiance to judge but she understands things. I've taught her how to find game animals, follow game trails, stay down wind. I'm teaching her snares. She helps me with human things sometimes.
*He smiles and the skald actually blushes* i've gotten her christmas presents and actually we have a christmas tree.(imogen)
Dire speaks in High Tongue, and the titian haired woman stares at the Fenrir, either fanscinated or deeply disturbed. Rune begins to speak, clarifying, and her head turns, receiving the translation, "Ah.""Ta," she murmers quietly, taking the cigarette package from him, while rummaging around with her free hand in her pocket, in the vain hope that she might still have her lighter. One pocket. Two. She opens the jacket a few buttons and slides her hand into some inner pocket, coming up with a cheap orange bic lighter finally.
She taps a cigarette out of the package, and slides it between her lips, stepping up and around Dire, so whatever faint breeze there is will catch the fumes of the smoke and blow it, hopefully, away from the Garou. The fact that two out of three of them are already smoking is beside the point.
Her thumb runs across the wheel of the lighter and fire flares, and she glances at Dire again, "You broke a window and handled the body?" quietly inquired as the woman, with the blood of heroes, narrows her eyes, "So what was a suicide now apparently has an accomplice."
(rune)
That's a muffled snort of something that Rune manages to mostly swallow: amusement is the most likely candidate, but the expression could be scorn or disgust or any of a number of other ones usually expressed by half-swallowed wordless exclamations.The Glass Walker finishes her first cigarette and lights another one from the tip of the first, then sends the butt falling end over end into the old coffee can that passes for an ashtray just beside the front door. Dark eyes stray, roaming over the three. She doesn't have much of a response to Dire's embarassed revelations about the child and his relationship with her (or the revelation that he was going to bring the kid to Imogen) beyond that little snort and she certainly cannot - in present company - leave her post in front of the door and join James on the steps. And so she remains where she is, sending smoke spiraling from her red red mouth to the nuclear orange nightsky, watching the drifting snowfall as it changes the carefully ordered world of the complex's manicured and controlled grounds.
(dire)
*He smiles softly* I broke the car window with a fist. Leaving no human prints.
* he wiggles his fingers as he crouches on the rail*
Not that my human prints would be on record with my face anyway. Few metis submit for fthat ink thing.
* he makes a face*
I've seen it on TV a few times.*He looks to Rune and James* Little to do in northern canada winters.
* he srugs*
Drug her out of the garage so the pup in my arms didn't die from the fumes and so I didn't loose it. Got her into the kitchen. Checked. She was dead.
* he srugs*
I didn't help her there.
And then I went back later and took the body out. It was quite cold and such. I didn't want to do it with the pup present. For clear reasons. Took it out into the pine barrens. Buried it.
(james)
his head tilts
actually just... looking at the Skald for a moment
and there's approval in his eyes"Sounds like you're doing just fine, Dire."
like the Skald or not - sounds like he's doing allright with the kid
and the cigarette roach is somewhat uncoordinately flicked out onto the snowy grass
landing with the faintest of sizzles
and since they're not going inside, yet
he just flips open the box
but not taking a piece quite yet
body twists and he presents the pizza to Rune
(r.h.i.p.)(dire)
*he smiles from his perch* Thank you Yuf... I... * he looks at his hands* I can't hve children of my own due to my parents dishonor. The Get... they treat their metis as they treat anyone. Prove your worth and they don't give you shit.. but I still can't have pups. Mayby if I take care of this one a little while... I'll some how offset that which is lacking in me. That which Gaia has deemed punishment for my parents. I cannot continue the line of my ansestors but if I train the pup right mayby she can continue the line of hers. * he looks up to them.*(rune)
Rune's eyes flicker to James - and the open pizza box - and her mouth spreads into a faint (and so. very. brief.) smile."Might as well head inside if we're gonna eat." she says, flicking her recently lit but already half-smoked cigarette into the container by the door. "Probably better than discussing the details of Dire in the open." The Glass Walker turns and pulls the door open, then walks inside, kicking off her clogs by the door as she does so, and sliding her arm back into the sleeve of the sweater. "I'm not sure burying the body in the Barrens was the best choice, Dire. Someone might find it, and folks there certainly don't need any unwanted human attention. Too late for that now, I guess. It's not something I would do in the future, though."
(dire)
*he nods to Imogen* Perhaps. I did get the food from the cubbord. What little their was. Still I'll never go to jail. Garou cannot. Metis especially. If and when I die, my body will revert to it's birth form.
Garou go to great extent to retreive our bodies to keep the veil. IF ever the mortal authorites catch me. * he chuckels* not an easy task. * A smile* I'll simply escape and evade.
It's not like our lifestyle is a real law abiding one to start with. being a mass murderer by the time your 14 has certin disadvantages.*he nods to Rune* I made sure she was over 50 miles from any human settelment. And I put her deep. Digging in Hispo is fun. The dirt just piles up.
The Barrens are large. Thing is, she really did kill herself. If she is ever found, *he srugs* What could they tell other than she died and somone buried her there?I'll take your advice and avoid it from now on Rhya. Perhaps I'll let Imogen handel it? * He raises his brows and looks to her*
(james)
a brow lifts, slightly, his head tilting to look at the Skald"Or maybe you were supposed to have this pup to raise, and not any other."
that's about when he gets up and follows Rune inside
(closing the lid, of course)
stamping the snow off his boots
setting the open box on the lacquered coffee table
then moving to the fridge to retrieve the beer(dire)
*He follows after James and nods* Perhaps Yuf. One can hope. I just hope I don't break her. She's tough and all. Smart. * he smiles softly* But I don't have much skill in raising humans. I'm just doing the best I can with the advice of those around me. * He nods to rune* She really likes the make up you gave her. Carries it with her everywhere with her. I thank you.(Imogen)
Her eyebrow arches at Dire, as he speaks, but silence ensues as Rune speaks, and continues as she enters the condo, behind the other three.It holds as Dire glances at her, one hand dragging through her hair, a faint nod, perhaps, eyes straifing to Rune, not likely saying 'I should do this', so much 'if necessary, I will do this'.
(rune)
"It's not being law abiding, Dire." Rune comments, as she pads quietly across the plush carpet in the foyer and turning to walk into the living room. James sets the pizza box down on the lacquered coffee table, and Rune glances back toward Imogen and Dire - " - have a seat - " offered to them as an aside, with a vague gesture toward the leather couch. The first blast of sound could be close to overwhelming, but she pauses by a control panel and dials the volume waaaaaaaaaaay down, to a level suitable for conversation. "It's about being smart about those you break, and when, and where. If they get your picture, or even a sketch of your face, on some big-ass wanted list, or one of those fucking television shows, it'll shut you down, at least from acting in any sort of effective capacity in and among people."Slender hands, capable fingers splayed wide for leverage, seek purchase on the breakfast bar, and Rune lifts herself up to her second favorite perch, long leatherclad legs swinging down below her. When James returns with the beer, she holds out a hand for one thoughtlessly and blindly, just knowing he's there behind or beside her.
"It's better not to make a mess in the first place, for Imogen to clean up. One incident too many, and she may lose her job, and then we would be much worse off." Rune shakes her head and draws one leg up to rest her foot on the tiled bar, hugging her knee to her chest as the other leg continues to dangle aimlessly. "I'm glad the girl likes the lipstick, but you don't need to thank me for it, Dire - " - the curl of a self-mocking grin - " - it's hardly some great sacrifice, one tube of lipstick."
And then, inside her packmate's head, (inside her lover's mind), her voice comes soft. Yuf. Rhya. Pizza. No mailbox bashing. Deference. And so on. He really wants into the pack. The words thus shared are not reflected in her faintly impassive gaze, nor is their presence betrayed by so much as a shifting glance to the side.
(dire)
*(He nods to her words* Yes... I try and be careful in the world of humans. I.. * he sits when told and seems to think* I'd just found the pup and I wasn't sure the mother was actually dead. I couldn't just leave here there.
Once I found out I did what I thought best to continue her survival. She doesn't have anyone other than me. All I have right now is her. We're kinda a team now. * he looks up to them.* I'm glad she's kin..(james)
the cold glass settles firm against Rune's hand
bottle already hissing from the cap taken off
the living room is crossed
the other two open bottles offered to Imogen and Dire
(eating or not she's getting a damned beer)
then the Gnawer makes himself comfortable on the lazy boyBeta chose the breakfast counter
so that means he can dig into the pizza
silent as mouth stays closed when he chews
(momma didn't raise an unmannered mutt)
openly relishing the doublestackedmeatloversooooooozingcheeze slice
the silent reply soft, and short
mmhm.
as it tickles through the Walker's mind(dire)
*he takes it with a nod. Even a smile. Sniffs then sips. Smiles. Withall querys addressed he waits for rune and James to get a piece if they so choose then takes a slice himself*(imogen)
The beer is taken with a faint smile (eating or not, she will always take a beer), cracking it open with a twist of her wrist, "I can get rid of the finger prints, so he isn't on file," speaking to Rune, "and just... deal with th'body when it's found. Stall the investigation, whatever." Her shoulders shrug.Rune's right. She might lose her job for this. She might have lost her job for the crack house a few days ago. There are days when it seems like she does nothing but cover the tracks of Garou, or try and make sure she gets the cases where she can cover the tracks of Garou.
No cigarette anymore. She must have put it out when the other three entered. Tossed over the balcony. Something. She raises the bottle to her lips taking a healthy pull of the amber liquid.
(rune)
"That would be why you attack mailboxes," dryly spoken, accompanied by a dry little smirk that disappears soon, as the Glass Walker lifts her beer to her mouth, and drinks long and hard. "Right?"The faintest flicker of a shifting glance: Dire on the couch. James on the lazyboy.
And?
(dire)
I seriously doupt anyone would find the body. * his words soft* I was digging in hispo. There was no cent of humans for miles from where the body is and it's not in a place easily accessable by human. * he wiggles his fingers* legs. Access. * he nods* The Pine barrens are truly deep and bizzar the farther you go from human settelment. There are parts out there were I'd wadger a guess no human eye has ever seen.
With her gone from the house. The pup with me and them having just arrived. Could there be reason for the investiation? * He tilts his head. Not being bellerigent. He's honestly asking.**He blinks and looks to Rune and her smack of his disability. He's been told by more than one that there "ARE NO DAMN GOBLINS" but he sees them. He shakes his head and sips his beer* No rhya... I saw a goblin in the mailbox. * his words almost quiet. This is where the belittle him for a flaw in his mind due to a mistake his parents, not he, made. He's used to it.*
(james)
the Gnawer?
inhales
the pizzahe was raised fighting and scrapping for every bite he ate
he was forced to learn gifts so he wouldn't starve
and old habits die very hard
it's only a matter of minutes and he's on his fourth slice
(does he really chew?)extra large pizza
sixteen slices
that's four each if Imogen was eating
and because she's not, makes it five
but he stops at fourfinally taking the time to wash it all down with the beer
It is Erik's decision.
not to default her an answer
that is just the way he knows it is
he's now just sipping the beer
and carefully, silently, watching
he will not say anything of the disability
while he knows it is not the metis' fault
he also knows it isn't his place to correct him
not when there's a Fostern around(imogen)
"Something just needs to happen. Bodies have been dug up that I'm sure nobody thought would ever be dug up. There are flukes," she answers mildly, speaking in plain fact, as she rolls the beer bottle between her hands."They just moved in, so they may not have any friends. But you don't know that. They may not have any family. Human or kinfolk. But you don't know that. Eventually, someone is going to notice that no one is there. Or that the bills aren't being paid. Or something. And then someone is going to get into that garage and find a broken window, and a house that shows no signs of actual concious leaving. The fact there was a child will likely be the spur of it all. Parents do not tend to just leave their children's things and disappear. children need their clothing. Food. Toys. Or parents think they do."
She raises the bottle to her lips once more, taking a pull from it, swallowing slowly as she continues, "They'll come in and check fingerprints. I'm not concerned too much about anything, unless they find the body before they find the house, or someone sees and recognizes the little girl and thinks to wonder where Mother Dearest is." It would seem, for all her lack of maternal extincts (yeah, call child services), at the very least, the thought of a mother abandoning her child causes that small edge of sarcasm. "I'm mostly concerned about your finger prints. You may never have been finger prints, but I bet you've killed and left your fingerprints somewhere." She rests the bottle of beer, half empty, on her bent knee, "And I bet you'll do it again. And suddenly a drug killing becomes a hit because ironically, two finger sets of finger prints match. It might not be a problem today, or tomorrow, but it might be another time. A complication you don't need. The fact is, you leave marks of yourself, and eventually someone might connect the dots. They find out about you. They might figure out what you are. Or someone else could. Just because the Nation does not want you in jail does not mean th'humans will not try." Everything spoken carefully in her slow and easy accent, smooth cornish tones.
She shrugs again, "Get me the address, and I'll print you. I'll destroy the prints in the house, and I'll destroy the ones you give me." Tacked on. A promise that even if she had them, she won't have them for long.
(rune)
"That's all well and good Dire," Rune responds quietly, "...but I don't understand why you can't control yourself when you see the damn goblins. People remember a crazy six foot tall man with a tattoo like that and a crowbar attacking a mailbox, and not in a good way."The beer bottle settles against the bartop with a distinctive clinking sound, glass on tile, but her hand does not leave the cool glass. "In fact, it could be more dangerous than that. If, for example, the pack were on a mission requiring stealth and you chose to chase your goblins, or if you saw the goblins in or around someone important, or even the girl in your care, how do we know what you would do?"
There's a flicker across her face then, narrowing eyes and curving mouth falling into the faintest tracey of a frown.
Erik's decision whether he is to join the pack. Your decision whether or not you stay in the pack if he does.
(dire)
*He takes a breath and looks to Imogen. Smiles softly* I was not going to leave the pup there with her dead mother or out on the streets in the middle of winter.
I went to find the mother.
I found her dead.
I took the pup. I took her clothing and such. There wasn't much Imogen. They were very poor. They were on the run from something as best I can tell. hince they were hiding.
If they were hiding they wern't going to tell others whom they really were. Or make attachments.
They were still in the process of moving in their meger possessions. I took the girls with me. She has her things. They are in the cabin we're sharing.
I went back. I took care of the body. If somone manages to even get to the point fifty foot miles from civilisation and some how digs down the 8 feet or so I dug, Finds the body, then I guess the body would be found.
I'm not a master of human activity but as strange as they are I rarly see them meandering around that deep in the wilderness digging holes for no apperent reason.
*He nods* I could have doesn'e something else with her but I don't know what could have been a better corce of action.
The girl is Kin. Therefore the mother is kin. Garou law supseceeds mortal law.
The house was rented about two weeks ago. It's my understanding that they are rented on a lunar cycle... roughly a month.
I'll go back and make sure I wipe things down to prevent my human prints from being anywehre. If you prefer I can go in umbrally, shift over and burn the house down but I think that might cause more attention. WHen I go to wipe down the house I can take and dispose of the car as well so the broken window on a 20 year old falling apart automobile doesn't raise suspisions. She was a poor lady, probly on the run from a mate that frightened her after some fashion. Our inner rage make us had to live with sometimes.
She took her own life.
This is not a crime I can be charged with. As I honestly didn't do it.
I did take the pup. she is Kin. That means she's one of us. Not just a casual human to be lost on the streets to freeze or die randomly. She might be a Get one day. If so, it's our duty to protect and train her.
*he nods gently to Imogen. Turning to rune*I do the best I can Rhya... * he looks at his hands and back to her* When I'm focused on things... caring for the Pup.... on the hunt and all I don't normally see them. It's only when my mind is idle that they popup. As for controling my reaction.... * he srugs gently* it's akin to contolling our inner rage when we see the wyrm or evidence there of. I can try and I often truly do. But instinct seems to take over and I just want them dead. * his vloce does drop quiet* I know others don't normally see them. I've been told many times it's just my birthblood acting up... but _I_ see them and I react.
You can Ask Decker as to my disipline on a hunt and with others. We went umbral and my plan and both his and my prowlness killed the spider monster. * he nods* I am first a garou. A Get of Fenris, Warrior of Gaia... my... * he gently runs a hand though his hair* My ... mind... the goblins.. are secondary.
(james)
this is about when the Gnawer looks down
breifly studying the bottled in his hands
I will make that decision after Erik makes his.
he tries to keep his voice flat across Eagle's feathers
but it doesn't exactly work
probably more emotion got through than he wanteddeep umber gaze clicks back up
watching the Skald
does he buy all this sudden respect?
not really.
but his focus drops again
he can't help the soft ache at hearing(imogen)
Her shoulders shrug, "Get me an address. I'll print you and destroy the prints that are there. Then we won't have to worry about it." Quiet, without a flicker of disapproval or approval, as she watches the amber fluid slosh in the dark brown bottle. She is not, apparently, in the mood, or perhaps in the place to criticize Dire for his actions.(dire)
I would rather clean um my own. * he nods* I dind't touch much there. I'll get some of that foul smelling stuff... bleach. Put it on a cloth and wipe down everything I could have possiably touched. I'd rather not my human prints be on file. * he srugs* Just in case.
Thank you for the offer though Imogen. * he nods* Very kind of you.
*He eats some more pizza feeling rather like he's being grilled by Philodox for some reason. he shits a bit on the couch and a finger comes up to rub at the get tattoo over his left brow*(rune)
Rune makes a faint, irritated gesture with her free hand, which ends as she drags long fingers through her inky locks. Fine strands of dark hair shift and sway beneath the attention, but settle back as they were as soon as her hand falls to her side again."Imogen's telling you that she wouldn't keep your damn prints, Dire," Rune responds, eyes narrowing faintly in further irritation. "She said that, precisely, she would use them to make sure you prints don't get on file. It's doubtful that you can remember everything you touched when you were in there, since memory doesn't work like that. It pulls little driblets of experience that we remember, and leaves the half-noticed automatic things to the proverbial dustbin of fucking proverbial fucking history."
Another pause, and a short one this time, with a brief, streaking glance toward James - all right - before her eyes drift back to Dire. "What if you're there when the landlord comes back? What if bleach all over everything is more inexplicable than a few lost fingerprints?"
(imogen)
A faint exhalation of breath through her nose that might have been a snort as he thanks her, dismissing the politeness."If somebody's actually doing some investigation, bleach is going to be another sign someone's hiding something. You're just going to draw more attention to it all." She says, supplementing what Rune has just said.
(dire)
I am garou. I can smell people. *he nods* My sences are more acute due to my reliance on them in the wild more than some.
* he takes another slice of pizza.*
If the land lord comes in I'll simply hide or go back umbral.
*he srugs*
I would not put Imogen at risk for an apperent mistake I caused. If The bleach causes questions.
*he srugs*
that they have no answers to, what's the problem?
*He doesn't point out the redundancy of "Proverbial dustbin of fucking proverbial fucking history". He's not looking for an arguement*Honestly.
* he srugs*
if teh prints are gone, the bleach might be concidered simple cleaning a damn near empty house before moving in or out.
*He frowns now. Yes Imogen said she wouldn't keep the damn prints but pardon him for being a touch mistrustful of humans. What have they ever done for him other than annowy and hurt and bitch and moan and the like. What if she chose to get mad at him and dislike him They could be used as a weapon.*
Again we're back to the lack of reason to call for an investigation. The woman was already on the run form something. Why would they look for me when there is clearly something she was already running from? If I clean up the fingerprints, why would it matter that they are cleaned up.Even if I'm stupid and can't remember what I touched with my fingers.
* he smiles a littls softly*
We born not of human birth are a bit more conscience of such things, not to mention I can shift to lupus. and check the house for my scent on things. The lupine nose is millions of times more sensitive than homid eyes, THEN go though and clean up. There shouldn't be any missed.Even if there ARE, and they get my prints, I'm not on file to match a face to.
They would have to capture me. Restrain me in a fashion I cannot escape. and then get me to a station to photo and print me.
Only then could they match my human prints to some they may or may not have collected eariler.
I dare say the weakest Shadow lord pup could easily escape mortal capture by mundane means. ANd if pressed, leave no witnesses.With out concreate prints gathered from me with direct * he waves a hand gently* Proof? Accountability?
My princts would simply be those of an unknown.
*he nods to Imogen.* then looks to Rune* How would the two of you handel it if you were to.. * he gestres to the door* Walk to your cars in the morning and a little 4 year old kinfolk girl walked up to you. You found her home and her dead mother?
Now, remember. She's kin. We can't just throw her away because she might be garou when she grows up..... what would you do? * He leans forward. STILL his tone is low and nice.* I do not mock. I would honestly like to know so that if the situation repeats itself I'll have your added wisdom and will be able to avoid this interrigation based on a number of possiabilitys that may or may not happen in the future.(james)
he stays quiet
damn. quiet.
yep, drink that beer, James.and the empty bottle is set on the table
he's up off the lazy boy
moving towards the fridge to grab another(rune)
"If you're interested in my added wisdom, Dire, you would do well not to discount it when I give you advice on how to help clean up the situation so that it's all nice and quiet and easy." Rune replies, dark eyes flickering away from him to some point on the wall above the dull flat gray of the lifeless plasma television screen. "And all that bleach, of course, would do wonders for your fucking lupus of sense of smell. And of course, the neighbors looking in the fucking windows and seeing a fucking wolf in the house?"Charming. You're not willing to put Imogen at risk to fix a problem she can easily fix, but you're willing to put the whole fucking Garou nation at risk because you wanna get into a showdown with the cops, or whatever." Rune continues, deliberately conflating the scenarios and his words. "That's just lovely, Dire. Really lovely. You know what? Why don't you stick to whatever it is that the countryfolk do, and leave the city work to the fucking urrah, who know how to handle themselves among and around people? And, Imogen might be kin, but she's a fucking expert in her field and knows a helluva lot more about what will trigger an investigation and who will be concerned than a goddamned Get of Fenris Metis who didn't even fucking know what pot was, for god's sake."
(Imogen)
She drains the last of her beer placing the empty bottle on the table beside James's, as Dire speaks.Eyes jerk toward him as he mentions keeping her 'out of danger' and a smirk that is more than a little mirthless pulls at her lips, as she shakes her head, just a slight movement that causes the dark red curls of her hair to ripple.
Rune speaks, and she is quiet now, either having given up on the possibility of explaining things to Dire, and stepping aside for the more verbose Glass Walker to do her thing.
(James)
hearing the empty thunk on the table
when he pulls out of the fridge there are two bottles
both cracked open
the caps tossed into the trashone finds it's way over to Imogen
the other stays in his hand as he returns to lean a hip againt the end of the breakfast counter
he will stand beside his packmate
even if he's not saying anything
out of respect for his Beta's words
and out of respect for Dire, tooand also for the fact if he opened his mouth right now
the full moon would be guiding the Ahroun's tongue
and they're supposed to be 'good' - right?
so he shouldn't let his blood and temper get the best of him - right?
Hoods are supposed to give chances to learn and improve - right?
(rune)
"You're being fucking idiotic, Dire, with your fucking stubbornness. You know what? I would not fucking fault you for whatever mistakes you made in there. I've left prints behind in investigations or fights, without a fucking second thought. The problem isn't making little errors like that," her hands spread wide, and her beer bottle narrowly misses collision with James' head before she pulls her arms back close to her body and takes a long drink of her beer, and runs her hand through her hair once more. It's a physical tic, some mannerism that crops up when she's thinking, or when she's irritated: shift through the strands of dyed black hair, allow them to fall back against her pale cheek, fine and dark. "It can't be a fucking Get thing, since Erik and Decker are perfectly fucking willing to let Imogen do her job."As for it being a Dire thing, it's not your best quality. It doesn't matter if people aren't supposed to look in windows. They do sometimes. Fucking hell. You understand that this is a choice between giving a fucking honorable and responsible kinfolk your goddamned fingerprints so that she can make sure they're destroyed, and some ridiculous stunt with shifting and darkness and bleach and fucking, whatever, wandering around in some strange home certain that you have everything covered, that you don't fucking need anyone else to help you out. And you don't even know that goddamned bleach would destroy the fingerprints. How fucking hard is it for you to suck it up and accept some goddamned help, anyway?"
Throughout the long speech, it seems that she barely takes a breath. She just... sits there, legs swinging, dark eyes flat on the wall, slim hands clenching at her sides, red nails digging into white skin.
(dire)
*He listens to her. watches her flailing. Seems to mull it over and looks to Imogen. She wasn't his mate. She wasn't his tribe. He knew very little of her actually.
He seems to ponder.
They can see the wheels turning in his head. Not slow grinding ones but high pitched fast ones.
She was Deckers Mate. He trusted Decker. Decker trusted her.
Dire slowly nods*
Ok.(imogen)
As James offers her the beer, the kinfolk takes it, giving him a glance and a minute lift of her lips that is meant for thanks. The conversation between Dire and Rune washes over her, silent for much the same reasons as James, though perhaps if Rune was incorrect, or her opinion was sought she would have spoken up.Dire stares at her, and after a moment, the red hair woman stares back, dark blue eyes meeting his eyes evenly, because she knows no other way. She is (un)lucky enough to be easy on the eyes with her fine delicate features, augmented by the burn of her blood that promises strength and leadership, a candeflame in the darkness of a dying world. A vague sense of hope, because blood lines such as her's still exist. For now.
And she waits him out, as his wheels turn, nodding faintly, a tilt of her head as he agrees to it, finally raising the bottle of beer to her lips. "I'll need the address. I'll go out early in the morning."
(james)
during this little speech
he?
is recovering from ducking out of the way of that bottlewhere's Eliza's gift, now?
he can feel his packmate's Rage swelling
and in turn, it's tugging his with it
there's a careful consideration of the Skald
wondering how wise he is being
provoking the one that actually has a say in whether or not he gets into the pack(rune)
Well now...Rune forgets her wall-staring strategy and openly stares at Dire for at least three and a half seconds, before allowing her dark gave to snap back to the wall. Something like a frustrated sigh whistles through flaring nostrils as Rune - at last - releases the bottle in an attempt to get a grip on her rage.
The Get's admission now is a Phyrrhic victory in that it removes the cause of her growing Rage without doing anything to deflate it. It would've, perhaps, been easier or at least more viscerally satisfying to following the rising-tide swell of her irritation until it bloomed into full, ugly, terrible anger.
"Good choice, Dire." Rune says in a tight voice that betrays neither contempt nor praise, but speaks volumes about the slow bubbling stew of temper within her long, lean frame. "I'm gonna go have a fucking cigarette."
And so she twists around and jumps off the breakfast bar into the kitchen, landing with a resounding thump before padding back toward the back balcony, pausing only to grab her cigarettes and lighter on her way out the door.
(dire)
*he nods* I always bow to the greater knowledge if my betters. Even if I'm hard headed. * he looks down showing proper submission. Even if in the back of his mind he doesn't like it* Thank you for your wisdom Rhya.(dire)
*he notices the narrowd eyed look from Imogen and he raises the platinum blond brows. The get tattoo over his left brow squinched a touch when he does. Seeming to wonder "What?"*(james)
there's a bit of a nod
he's sure the Get didn't like bowing down
but it sure saved a blowup, didn't it?
as the Gnawer begins to move
his hands slide across the counter to grab the Beemer's keys"We have to go pick something up soon.... thanks for dinner, Dire... lock up on your way out, hm? Night Imogen."
as the Gnawer passes the door, he grabs Rune's coat
surely, in the discussion, she must have forgotten it, right?
the call of nicoteine to sooth tempers, and allhe holds the coat out, as he passes her
only a bare glance
then boots are crunching in the snow in a path towards the Z3(imogen)
"Greater knowledge of your betters?" she echoes as she raises the bottle to her lips, taking a swallow before starting to stand as James makes his exit, following Rune. "I'm going home." Turning her head to glance at James, and his farewell. "G'night."(dire)
*He nods and smiles softly.* Yes Yuff. Your welcome.
*He nods to her* The greater knowledge that my betters possess. It's an understood. That those with rank are better than those under. * he srugs* I'm not a glasswalker. She is. She is also Fostern. I'm Claith. It's natural for me to submit to her knowledge.(rune)
It's been only a few minutes since she stalked out, but Rune is already half-way finished with her first cigarette. As James walks by, she grabs her coat automatically, then blinks, watching him as he continues down the stairs and heads toward the Beemer. It's only when he's actually turning right to head toward the parking space (rather than left to head out and down the sidewalk) that she recovers some more of her temper-scattered wits and straightens and follows him.Her clogs (out of fashion at the end of last summer, but useful in that they are easy to slip into and protect her bare feet from the cold concrete when she heads outside to smoke) clatter dully as she descends, the sound muted by the fine layer of snow that has accumulated in the last hour. By the time she reaches the Beemer, she has shrugged her way into her coat and holds out her hands for the keys.
Abruptly, she withdraws her hand and shoves it back into her coat pocket as she puts out the cigarette, which hisses in the snow.
Can you drive? I'd be a little too aggressive. Wouldn't want to risk it on the icy roads.
(imogen)
She holds the beer bottle in one hand as she begins to button up her coat, an eyebrow lifting slightly at Dire, "I'm just shocked it took you a half an hour before doing what was 'natural.'" She says, after discarding a few other choice comments.Instead of walking immediately toward the door, she picks up the assorted three beer bottles from the table, and grabs the other one by the counter, and walking to the sink. Placing her half full one on the side, she rinses out the rest, and places them, hopefully, somewhere where there are other beer bottles. That failing, they go beside the fridge. Her beer is picked up again, assumedly because she intends to take it with her.
(dire)
*He stands and rotates hs shoulder and rubs his forarms. THe hair there was growing back and was itchy*
Natural doesn't always equate to easy or liked. * he smiles softly* Above all things I'm Get and I have my own mind. I submitt to my betters, when they deserve it. *he nods* When they make sence. If my superior tells me to shoot myself in the head, well.. * he srugs* Ain't gonna happen.
I had to work though it in my own mind. I don't... THink like you all do. My thought proicesses are just as capable. They are just different. The way we process information is different. * He nods and opens the door. Locking it and holding it open for Imogen*(james)
there's a glance across the sculpted convertible top
chin dropping in a slow nod
Get in.
he never intended on handing the keys over to her anyway
the car started to idle and warm
it takes a moment to adjust the seat to his height
(James? don't forget the mirrors)
it takes a moment to figure out the right button to get the wipers to dust the snow awayfew silent minutes pass
and the Gnawer (driving a BEEMER!) carefully backs out
the heat turned up to blasting furnace
navigating his way onto the now empty night streets
right now? the drive is aimless
a corner turned here, another there
winding through the sleeping city(imogen)
"Why thank you for that look into the Garou psyche," muttered softly as she shoves her feet into her boots, and steps out into winter, picking her way across the icy balcony and begins down the stairs.It felt odd doing that, instead of taking the hop across the distance, but with the ice, and the snow, and not wanting to break her neck... she took the long way.
(dire)
Your welcome Imogen. * the sarcasim either missed or ignored. His words were ment in truth. He's used to people being asine all the god damned time but wonders if it gets tiring after awhile to be insenstantly bitchy with out a break. Even he's nice to carmen. Sheesh.He closes the door and makes sure it's locked. Noddinghe clomps down the steps after her* Have a nice night Imogen. * he waves and heads for his Jetta*
(imogen)
He heads toward his jetta, and she heads toward her condo, glancing over her shoulder as he passes on his farewell, "night," she says, more out of habit than anything else as she climbs the steps to her own home. Keys jangle as she slides her key into the lock, unlocking the deadbolt, before fitting a key into the knob and turning it, pushing open the door with her hip, with the beer bottle in her other hand. The door shuts behind her with a click of the lock.(dire)
*He departs back twords the barrens*Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 19, 2002.12.19.02. - lights off: one week, pt 2 [rune][cont'd from previous scene, north jersey hotel]
(rune)
Lost somewhere between sleep and the waking world, (It’s dark. - it’s dark? - Gotta be. Can’t see anything. - eyes closed? - Hmm. Open now. Nope. Still dark.), Rune gradually, cautiously, and with great care and forethought, dares to open one eye. She see some dim reflection of that eye in the convex surface of a stainless steel dome lid blinking back at her from several feet away. They ordered room service somewhere in the middle of the night, or the day ( - what day is this?- don’t. know.) or the next night: it’s really hard to tell. They ordered room service at some point while still conscious and semi-coherent, and devoured the food necessary to refuel with little regard for the niceties of tables manners, and now, one of the lids cast unceremoniously aside sends an image of her half-open eye back to her from its precarious perch on the plundered cart.( - wonder what that is - )
The rest of the reflection is distorted and malformed. Her eye is elongated, the lashes impossibly long, floating in a sea of tanned flesh that stretches to the edges of the dome and curls back around. Warmth asserts itself - she can feel that too, his body beneath her, and the slow rhythm of his breath, and she knows he is there because she can feel him sleep, not just through the fine, frazzled nerve endings scattered through her skin, but also somewhere in her mind.
( - he’s sleeping. - ) half-a-slow .smug. smile crawls across her bruised and swollen mouth ( - he is sleeping - ) and she can still taste him, his sweat, his blood, his scent, heavy on her tongue ( - yum - )
She can feel him sleeping somewhere in her mind, the faint white noise of his dreamless slumber a low, comforting hum in her subconscious, never quite grasped but oh-so-present. Somewhere in the middle of the night the connection opened between them, and never quite closed. It was - amidst it all (and the specifics are sketchy, and will remain so) - an endless loop of feedback, some strange self-feeding flame.
( - should try to move. get up or something. shower. - )
The first bruises they inflicted upon each other have long since healed, the last have not even begun the process. There is not an inch of her body that does not ache, it seems, and indeed she has found new aches of which she was never before aware. Somehow she’s sprawled not alongside him, but mostly atop him, her head curled against his chest, her hair fanned out over his shoulder (even her hair seems to throb, each fucking individual strand.), her legs tangled with his. Taking careful inventory, she seems to have identified one single solitary spot that does not ache, and carefully curls her big toe against his calf. Turns out she was wrong. That hurts too.
( - can’t. stay here I guess. you’re still there. you’re sleeping. - )
(james)
mental feedback
physical feedback
visual feedback
vocal feedback
(oh. voooooocal)
fucking. sensory. overload.there's the low comforting hum of blown circuits sizzling in the back of her mind
that would be him.
(Hello? My name is James. Whatever you did to me last night has made me. Stoo. Pid.)
and so he cradles that stupidity somewhere in the aching blessed sleep of he who is so exhausted and happy about it it's ridiculous, whatever it is she did (what did she NOT do?) whatever strange mystical hedonistic voodoo that was suddenly in this preistess Ahroun's grasp on the full fucking moon has plummeted this guttermutt, this Bone Gnawer, this chosen of Gaia's warriors into a legless armless senseless mindless pile of musculoskeletal primordial OOZE that couldn't move right now if he wanted to
and he doesn't
he's happy right where he is
veritably pinned beneath herhe doesn't even want to think about how much he missed her
(well, he can't, he's unconscious)
he didn't think about it last night
he only thought about that she was here, with him, NOW
and he was treating it as if it were the last night on earth
because for all he knows, it could be
(I don't know what I'd do without you)but somewhere, down in the deep, dark sea of transcending sleep a thought sparks to life
there must be a surface up there, somewhere
and with a slow, deep breath be begins to swim for it
moving up through the levels of his senses
(he can smell the musk of her skin)
crawling towards some semblance of conscious thought
(he can feel the full body armor ACHE of muscle well abused)
twisting and weaving his way up towards this incredibly warm thing that's waiting for him
suddenly well aware of where he ishis tongue slips out, running over the swollen split of lip
(her. teeth.)
he doesnt even bother opening his eyes
(what? and break the spell?)
somehow coordinating muscle to tighten that arm that's slung around her(rune)
- you’re awake -He’s awake. She’s awake. She can feel him awakening, and not just physically - the changing rhythm of his breath, the faint shift-slide-shift of his musculature beneath her, the thousand unthinkably small, unthinkably difficult movements necessary to coordinate, somehow, the flex of bicep and tricep and whatever-other-ceps might be lurking beneath the blessedly warm skin of his blessedly warm arm to contract that appendage around her back.
The new pattern of his breathing and the minute shifting of his body beneath her dislodges several strands of her no-longer-sweatsoaked hair, sending them sliding over his moving shoulder toward the bed beneath him. The strands are short enough, though, and never quite reach the twisted sheets, but still - ouch. That hurt.
- you. moved. -
Her mental voice is suffused with surprised amusement - how’d you manage that? - as the ordinary workings of muscle and bone and sinew and nerve fibers and firing neurons and whatever the hell else goes into the simplest of movements has become the deepest of mysteries.
She draws in a ragged breath - fuller and deeper than any she has yet dared - and swallows hard in an attempt to tame and sooth strained, swollen vocal chords, but there’s nothing doing. Her swollen, still-bloodied lips twist painfully in a vague attempt to shape some sound that should be emerging from her throat right. about. now. but there’s nothing doing. There’s not even a vague croak; the only thing that emerges is a distinct absence of sound.
Well then. We’ll try something else.
- wanted to talk to you. (warm and sleepy and so blissfully, deliciously achingly amused. the words in his mind are not precisely whole sentences. they’re closer to sound portraits or sense impressions, little nuggets of thought sifted and distilled from the chaos of her mind.) made me speechless -
(james)
there's a low thick laugh
just a short one
just one sound catching in his chest
(ow)Have you any idea how long that took to coordinate? he bets she does Not happening again any time soon... I think you really did break me this time her amusement met by his satiation. Rage? What Rage? it's nothin' but smoooooth sailing right now, totally kopasetic (stoo. pid.) even the words are slow and sluggish and most exquisitedly sedated in her mind
take me drunk I'm homenow... he wants to move
he wants to cuddle her on up
let hands smooth over her back
rub out the aches and strains (and... tears?) that halt her movement
towards her ritual morning shower while he continues to try to find his way out of bed
towards him in another ultimate conquest that will leave him further lost in the tangling maze of sheets
anything she asked
anything she wants
no matter how much it hurt right now - he'd push through the pain to do it
but, until she asks, he'll settle for fingers pressing into her skin as a rain check for that yet-to-happen cuddlethey're breathing in tandem, that's a caress in itself, right?
it wouldn't be the first time she's stolen his ability to consciously breathWell.... soft, sighed, outright grinned in tone It was the least I could do, since you.... y'know.... drifting off in the muse (I think that bone -is- broken, James), she'll note he isn't speaking out loud either, and that's about when his eyes finally dare open, brow considering lifting (but doesn't) at the glint of light that refracts of the silvered dome cast aside (we..... stopped long enough for room service?) then the entire thing cast aside as he returns his focus (both outward and inward) on her What'd you want to talk about?
(rune)
What’d you want to talk about?There’s a faint shrug, not so much seen, not so much felt, as apprehended. Her body didn’t move beneath his hand, but her mind moved against his. There’s a door there - opened by the long week, the incomprehensible actions of the country cousins during the bizarre fight and all it’s aftermath, by the exhaustion thereafter, by the full moon that rips away inhibitions and brings all that is raw and sure and doubtless flooding to the shore, high tide - already half-closed, and he can feel the tug of negation ( - nothing. you. what’d you want for Christmas? or any of a thousand other trivial things meant to fill up the slippery space between signifier and signified) assert itself before slipping away.
Not talk. Tell. That night.
He dared movement, and therefore so she must. Her forearm flexes and her hand tightens amidst the tangled sheets and she draws herself half-an-inch up his body, until her chin gains purchase on his chest and she can catch his profile in her peripheral vision. She can’t see his eyes. She doesn’t even look for them. The slant of his jaw and the taut curve of his cheek are enough for her.
And so he gets the full story - or most of it - (Decker wouldn’t fucking listen. The flash of the Modi’s gray eyes, the bullish refusal, the incoherent rage. Something about his father.) in a shifting flood of images and words and sense impressions (Corran just fucking sat. there. all the way from who knows where. The calm Theurge’s complacent eyes and smug defense of himself - I’ve done no wrong) of the night that Decker sought out Noah (Called him out three times and the fucking Fianna hid behind the door and kin. The large man’s body and the quiet rumble of his voice as he, too, transferred blame to the Coggie.) in Eliza’s (Kinfolk wouldn’t step aside. Eliza’s voice half-heard through the door: not here, not now.) house.
...and all the inexplicable actions and all the accusations thrown and received, all the fucking self-righteousness (and through the thread, how much that self-righteousness wearies her) of all the various actors and her doubts about the stars in the little passion-play: Decker. Noah. Corran. Eliza. The intimate form of communication leaves little room for half-truths, and thus her own doubts filter through as well: her weaknesses and her judgments and her doubt in those judgments, though these are incidental to the tale, not so much asserted as sensed amidst the disarray of the tale.
She’s not seeking absolution, and it’s clear that she doesn’t want to sort through the tangled strands tonight. She just needed to get it out, somehow, to sort through the tiresome scene and order her memory for later use.
(james)
there's a drop of his chin
maybe it's a nod
maybe it's just so he can rearrange beneath her for her comfort
(it's always about her)
dark eyes find their way to wander across the darkened ceiling
her words painting images in his mind that project onto the blank screen abovestorm grey Fenrir eyes and the Rage that was directed at him, for a short while this evening
the red and gold Fianna coward that's not allowed in their territory
the Coggie who is new, but now further remembered
the tired, sad Kin standing at her door for what became the last time
(the children, he notes she leaves out the children, but maybe that's something he doesn't want, or need, to see)
how strange his story must be, after hearing it told so many different ways
and finally, the sleek doubting Walker that's no memory, but here... nowthat's when he moves again
(kee. riste.)
fingers trailing up the flexing muscles in her flank
(no, thumb? come with me little one... don't fall behind)
drawing so slowly over ribs, scapula, long line of slim strong shoulders
finding their way to blaze trails through tangled forest of inky hair
as if he could cup and shape the tangled thoughts beneathflick away that doubt
(off wi' ye!)
mold something else to take it's place
maybe pluck some of his own confidence in her to replace
but he understands the doubt, the weakness, the questioned judgement
everyone doubts themselves
especially after situations like that
(what if I... what should I....what could I....)
he doubted (questioned and HATED) himself for two years
but there's something in his touch that tells her everything
but there's something in his touch that speaks a thousand murmured words
even if it's just a simple, surface caress
(I'd never doubt you)but he doesn't say anything
she wanted to tell
and he listened(rune)
The professor always said human behavior was absurd, she continues, curving her neck back, craving the slow caress of his hands through her hair. and Garou behavior moreso, not so much because of - (a flashfire impression of the moon, the rage, the sundered worlds of spirit and flesh through which they move and the calcified web to which they are so tightly bound) as the inheritance of tradition and forms to which we’re bound, the way those shape our instinctual responses into the structured whole, or some such fucking thing.Amusement, faint, receding. There’s no pain in this memory, or if there is, it’s soothed away by his presence, by the shared bodyheat and the awakening awareness that asserts itself slowly and surely beneath the thrumming aches, or perhaps within, these many and sundry small battlescars of the blessedly exhausting night before.
S’why he told us to stick with urrah. If the old ways don’t work, you gotta find new ones, or whatever. He can feel her smile unfold against his skin, the slow blessing of bruised mouth painfully moistened by a tentative tongue, that soon finds its way from her lips to his skin. Irony was important, or something, the displacement of meaning, or questioning meaning, or twisting it around or something about the way the things that don’t quite fit together are forced together. Sounded better when he said it. Sounded better when it didn’t mean packmates and friends and acquaintances.
Her attention is already drifting away from parroted philosophizing, and back to the very real body splayed beneath her. Conscious thought has brought back some capability for conscious movement, has wakened her sleeping body and her sleepy mind to the physical fact of his flesh, which is far more immediately interesting than the ramblings of someone long dead, and just that easily, she shuts closes the door again.
Need a shower. The mindvoice is accompanied by croaked, half-spoken syllables that more or less echo the phrase, though she’s so damn hoarse that he would never catch the meaning were he still not sharing some primal part of her mind. She has found her hands again, and found that they work well enough to settle on either side of his chest and ( - ooooooooouch - ) strain and lift her from her sprawl atop him. ...you coming, or what?
(james)
the lights are still off
they're in their own private darkness, their own private primal cave
as she speaks, as she thinks
he still listens quietly
letting his fingers relearn how to walk and talk and breath playing in tangled hair..... wait
that's you James
and dare you admit what she's taught you
re-taught you?
what she's unearthed that's been dead and buried for years?
at least out loud, to anyone but yourself?
(careful what you say, boy)he knows it
he wonders if he'll ever say it
..... he wants tobut there's only the words in his eyes as she pushes to stretch above him
but there's only the pull of that silly little grin (her grin) that finds its way to her in the darkness
he lets his hand fall from her hair
exploring taught, moving, living, breathing (bruised) flesh canvas that's suddenly offered by her movements
curve of shoulders, plane of ribs, length of back and swell of hips
(he's thinking things he shouldn't)
and his brow.... finally.... takes the chance to liftWhat... again? Already?
of all the taboo'd secrets they've shared
he's -still- shy about some things
there's a few reasons for the heat that crawls beneath his flesh
so when she's pushed up above him
that's when he slowly follows
muscles in his abs which still wish to be forgotten crunching
shoulders lift from the mattress
the movement of his body lifts hers in sit-up
and those strong arms wrap around her
(not matter how. much. it. hurts.)the lights stay off
he wouldn't dare let go of her now to find the switch
this is the third time he's just bundled her up in his arms
this is the third time he's gotten away with it
leaving the liferaft safezone of the bed
between there and the bathroom her feet never touch the ground
and he carries her right across the threshold
(careful James)
the lights stay off
he doesn't need to see the bruises to know they're there, he doesn't need to see the loving wounds to know they are there, he doesn't need to see the marks of that which have claimed him to know of the things that have lain their permanent possession across his body and soul, whether they're from battles of years past, or the battle that waged roiling war last night, or the marks that have mixed and bled (red red blood, like her red red mouth and nails) and healed to turn all these scars into a single suit of armor - he just knows - and that will have to be good enough for himthe lights stay off
the water blasts and steamsPosted by james at 12:00 AM.12.19.02. - trust [erik][north jersey]
(james)
there's a streetcorner, there
currently occupied by one Bone Gnawer
he's on his way back from Newark and helping the Howl
it's a lot warmer way to earn cash than to sit on a street
though he does miss that a littlebut that's neither here nor there
right now? his hitched ride is pulling away
and he's trying to decide what to bring home for the pack for dinnersure, he earned a wad of cash today
doesn't mean he's going to spend it on himself
he just doesn't know how to do that(erik)
Erik, Dark Moon, trickster moon, has made many dark deals witht he spirits. They grant him many dark powers and dark knowledges. Among those is the power to track anything, anywhere, relentless. He doesn't need that power, though, to find a Bone Gnawer on a stret corner.He comes walking up the street, people, those who actually look at him, shying away, turning their heads... away.
"Heya, kid."
(james)
they turn away
they part like a red, pulsing, breathing sea
he? get's that itchy feeling
right between his shoulderblades
pack
so he? turns towards itdreads whistling over trench as his head tilts
a bit of a hello, a bit of a nod up
and where others frown in disgust - he grins"Erik."
he grins.... mostly
there's something bugging him
and it's not the phase of the moon(erik)
There seem to be alot of things buggin the kid latley. sucks to be omega. Erik wouldn't know, though. He has always led. He has always had to.He bends down, using one hand to ease himself down next to James. Sitting on a street corner with a 'gnawer. "Still pissed at Decker?"
Doesn't beat around the bush much...
(james)
kid
he? wouldn't let anyone else call him 'kid'
he was older than half the pack
but coming from Erik?
it's just not your normal derogatory comment
and his head shakes"No, I said my piece he said his, we tossed each other around a little."
-though I feel bad for yelling at him
regardless of -why-
it's pretty obvious to his Alpha
it actually pains him to have an issue with a packmate
the reach into his pocket is automatic
rolled up pack of jerkey pulled out
offered, still closed, to the Rotagar
(r.h.i.p.)"Whatever you've got in store for him is what needs to be done."
it's not his place or right to punish
and the topic of conversation switches point blank
whether he does it or not
he knows now is not the time to beat around the bush"Do you honestly trust him that much?"
(erik)
He takes the offered jerkey and fishes a pint bottle of Jack Daniels out of his jacket pocket.He cracks the seal with one quick twist, and eyes James and his question.
He knows who he is talking about... "I don't trust him at all. Does that matter?"
He bites into the jerkey, chewing while James digests that, then washes it down with the whiskey.
He offers the bottle to James then.
(james)
most people would shrink from that study from that face
but he doesn't back down
not even from his Alpha
not on something important as thisand he looks up, into those eyes
and he holds that studying gaze
not averting with the instintual deference
that should show how important this is
nodding"It matters for everything. Packs are built on trust."
he takes the whiskey, but doesn't take much
it's common knowledge among them he isn't the drinker the others are
(he can't drink worth shit)
and offers it back"And I don't trust him to be there for us when it counts."
he's not challenging, persay
he's just trying to very hard to understand
he's not the leader, it's doubtful he ever will be
but they all know what the Skald has done to him
and it's obvious he's pushing that aside and thinking of the pack as a whole(erik)
No. Sorry. Erik doesn't buy it. He smells what's up here right away. Got a talent for that sort of thing, does the trickster. "You trust me? You trust me when we first packed?""You even know me?" Strong points all, just like James'. Still, at least he is listening, talking, discussing. James has to know that's more than alot of alphas would do. Or maybe he doesn't know...
Either way, Erik hits the bottle again, deeply, and sets it between them so he can bite off another piece of jerkey.
(james)
his head shakes"I didn't know any of you."
and maybe that's the reason he trusts Erik NOW
without. a. doubt.
that's he's sitting here, on a corner, sharing his whiskey, and at least listening to him
a Fenrir Alpha listening to a Gnawer Omega
(he may be older than Luc, but sees him as an equal)"But none of you tried to betray me for something I didn't do. None of you openly disrespected me. None of you were banned from territory by not one, but three of us, then suddenly okay to join in. None of you were being hunted and expected me to protect you from that rather than what we packed up to do. None of you were suddenly bringing that same fate to the rest of us for something we didn't do and had no part in."
so maybe he knows a little more of Dire's situation than most
there's also the Skald's mental state
but he's couth enough to not say anything about that out loud
they all have their issues(erik)
"So yer sayin... what? That you don't like bein omega to him? That you are the only one who cares where he goes? That you wouldn't protect any of us. that you wouldn't share in whatever fate that -I- brought to this pack?"He can be so abrasive, so fast. "Al that I understand. But whats this about betrayal?"
(james)
"I wouldn't be omega to him."as much as their two original worlds differ
pack heirachy stays the same
he was here first, he'll outrank
sure, he's full of city dog, but there's still the wolf in him
it's the new boy that becomes the bottom of the totem pole
no matter who's blood is in him"I'm not questioning you, rhya. I'm just..... trying to understand a decision I don't agree with. I'd give my life for this pack... this family... like my old pack did for me. I wouldn't think twice about what would happen to me to protect you, or Decker, or Rune, or the others. You are pack. He isn't. I trust you. I trusted you from the minute three Germans figured they wanted a city kid at their sides and backs. Not him. Never him. Frankly I don't want him to be a part of us but it isn't my decision."
Erik's abrasive
but the Gnawer is used to it
comes with the territory
and he still doesn't back down
he'll say his piece"He thought I did something when I didn't, threw a canniption about it and wouldn't listen to anything I said because of what I am, and it took my getting my ass beat to convince him otherwise."
careful what you say, there, James.
"I don't care that he's going to treat me like shit. I know he is, and I accept it. I care that I think this is wrong."
(erik)
"Hmph."Kid found hisself some balls. that's good. Mean's he serious too. Erik smiles, though of course on his face it looks like a contemptuous sneer. But James is looking Erik in the eye, so he may see it there.
Oh, but suddenly his eyes turn... not cold... not angry... but... knowing. they say, yeah, you did something bad, probably stupid too, and I could find out, but i won't...
And then it is passed, and he is standing, leaving the now, suddenly empty botle of Jack next to you. "Well, I think you said all you wanted to. thanks for the, uh... (trust)jerkey."
(james)
kid's always had balls
he's just never had to show em before
(if that isn't a pretty picture)
and as his Alpha stands
he nods
no prob, what's mine is yours,everybody eatz
even if he hasn't looked away yet
he saw the smile
he saw the .... know...."Thank you."
for listening
and yeh... that too.(erik)
He nods. "See ya 'round, Kid."Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 18, 2002.12.18.02. - one week [rune][barrens/north jersey]
(james)
he was just seething
and that's what fueled his walk
that's what covered the miles
that's what's brought him out of the Gaia-for-fucking-saken Pine Barrens and back towards what may, on a good, day, resmbling something of the Gaia-for-fucking-saken city, that hazy of nuclear reactor lights that dome over the tower-spiked landscape, that scent of smog and exhaust and hate and fear, the sheer white noise hammering against senses from the relentless drive of this rat race that the mortals have chained themselves toaw yea
home, baby.
fuckin' hometank boots stalk towards it
mile after seething, inwardly ranting mile
his Rage still blooms around him like his own, personal, city glow
fists clenched inside trench pockets
head held forward and lowhe hasn't gotten a ride because he hasn't particularly been thumbing for one
pretty certain anyone stopping would take one look at him and keep on driving
(full. fuckin. moon.)
(rune)
(full. fuckin. moon.)He hasn't gotten a ride because he hasn't been looking for one. The two or three cars that slowed on seeing a lone figure stalking relentlessly forward on the godforsakin highway sped away once he came fully into focus (danger. danger. danger.). Mortal senses scream with it. One trucker even mutters beneath his breath - "full moon crazies out tonight" - as he speeds on, coating James in a cloud of choking diesel exhaust.
The white noise drowns out the sounds of individual cars, melds them into something almost organic, something almost whole - the white noise, the constant thrum of the city, like the beating of a thousand livid hearts, all out of time, all racing toward some explosive destiny. Thousands of cars have passed him, and he has passed thousands of cars. There's another one ahead - pulling over, break lights cutting through the strange orange blooming gloom of the city's night. Probably a flat tire, or a radiator. Certainly it wasn't stopping for him.
Certainly it wasn't stopping for him. It probably doesn't even enter his mind that it might be, suffused in the high roiling boil of his seething rage. Another truck, passing, spews another dirty cloud of grime-laden smog to coat him and further obscure his view. It's only when he's alongside - passing (don't even look. Head down, don't even look. Boots crunching on the gravel shoulder, dreads swinging like so many pendulums in time to the long, ground-devouring strides) - that a familiar voice cuts through the haze.
"Need a ride, soldier?"
(james)
break lights flashed
some car pulling over for some unexplained reason
you're right, he doesn't pay it any mind
he barely pays any mind to the cloud of exhaust that coats him
just ducking his head a little, turning it towards rain trench beyond the shoulder
dark eyes safely sheilded by half closed lids
stepping a bit to the side so not to scare yet another poor civilian
(he had the fight with drag out, he doesn't need to have Jael's reaction revisited)
just. truck. on. by. Gnawer.it's two paces beyond the voice that he stops
head lifting slowly
shoulders shifting beneath the dreads
a sly glance to the front fender by his thigh
well... this is her car, isn't itgravel grinds beneath the pivoting turn
two steps back to the rolled down passenger window
dropping to a crouch to cross arms on the doorframe and rest his chin upon them"Why yes, ma'am, indeed I do."
trying... trying to get his grin for her (that little silly grin) to peek through the Rage
but it's a losing battle(rune)
It is her car. Metallic purple finish gleaming beneath a layer of roaddust, scattered with the bodies of at least a dozen kamikaze insects - were it not winter, were it not so damn cold - there would be more. Headlights shining on into darkness, high beams defining a narrowing arc of light ahead of them, unbreached and unseen, reflected back by the roadsigns and milemarkers, irridescent beneath the incandescent glow."Then get in, won't you?"
It's night. The road ahead is dark, but she's wearing sunglasses nonetheless: another shield behind which she can hide. Either she's completely foolish, or she's been driving since before sunset, or she doesn't want to catch even a glimpse of her own gaze reflected back at her in the rearview mirror. One. of. those. days.
"One of those days?"
He tries his little grin for her, and she attempts a teasing tone. It works for neither of them. Above, the moon is full and pregnant, riding high in the smog-filled sky, skimming behind a bank of feathery cirrus clouds that refract the nuclear-blast glow of the concrete sprawl beneath. The moon is clear, and its light casts a hazy corona that lights the thin wisps of white clouds, a circular almost-rainbow, but darker and dirtier, far more baleful, for the cooling colors of the spectrum have been lost, and the white glow ends in concentric circles of browns and yellows and reds.
"Or maybe I should say - " she leans across the gearshift, one pale arm outflung like a desert snake, gleaming pale beneath the diamonddust glow of the full fucking moon. There's something different about her tonight: not an inch of leather visible on her figure, just a little black dress clinging to the long lean curve of her form, leaving arms and legs bare to his view. With a negligent flicker of her wrist, she sends something tumbling from the passenger seat to the floor. The passenger door snicks open just a touch, slides open, and she draws partly back across the divide. " - one of those nights?"
(james)
he looks at her
he actually looks at her
and just about completely forgets about his Rage
just for a moment
(ho. lee. chit.)he actually looks up to her almost teasing eyes above almost teasing tones
then back down again for a breif, blinking, second
(hello? what did you do with Rune?)
he can't help but let his eyes trail down across the clinging black
this is just new for him
he's seen her in thick leather armor
he's seen her in silken tantalizing robe
he's seen her without anything at all to hide her muscular (beautiful) form
but this?
he just drinks it in, in that moment
like a man lost in the desert and she is suddenly the forgiving rain.....dayum.
he's finally able to draw himself back to the crackling present
can never forget your Rage, boy
weight shifting to pull the door open
and slide in, careful of whatever was cast to the floor
slouching on the expensive leather in strung tight defeat"Yeh. Was at Eliza's. Had it out with Decker."
and not matter how much the Modi frustrates him
she can see it - beyond the simmering Rage
he's hurting
that it actually pains him to be angry with a packmate(rune)
His rage is palpable as the corona around the full fucking moon. Her rage is as palpable as that dirtied would-be rainbow too. She can feel him opens the door wider unconcious and perhaps unaware of the full measure of his strength, and she can feel him as he slides into the bucket seat. Beneath the rage, the pain - still raw as the blasted vision of the night sky above them - beneath the pain, the tenterhooks of defeat.As he climbs in, whatever she casts off the seat (her gun) rattles and slides beneath the seat. Her arm shifts further to the side, hand settling familiarly over the gearshift, sliding over the curved leather knob. Lean fingers grip tight, knuckles staining white against already pale skin. it looks like she's about to rip that goddamned thing off. Her hidden eyes graze over his profile, fall to his once-more begrimed trench and sliiiiide on down, before snapping back to his face.
"Fuck."
The word is half-hissed beneath her breath. She should have known this would happen, though at the time she never considered it. Or if she considered it, it was only to be glad he wasn't there. Tendons flex, muscles strain taut in her forearm, fingers curling and uncurling reflexively over the gearshift.
"I'm sorry James. I was there. I let it happen."
There are so many things she wants to do right now. She picks the first one that comes to mind and grabs him by the collar before her hand settles on his shoulder, using him for leverage as she lifts her body in a twisting arc. In the limited space, the manuever is awkward and almost fumbling, despite her feral grace. Curving shoulders bump against the convertible's low roof as she arcs to avoid the gearshift. She manages to settle one knee on the edge of her own seat, but her other leg invades his space.
Her grip on his shoulder tightens as her weight shifts and thumps, finding a center of balance and then her other hand dives into his hair, and then she kisses him, with such blind, driving force that all conscious thought is driven from her mind, she devours him, she inhales him as a drowning man inhales the deadly sea: his last breath before oblivion.
(james)
it's that split second of silence
and within it grows his answer
looking at the white that blooms across her knucklesit's allright
we both know nobody could have stopped him
what happened happened
it's done and over now
the anger has fizzled out
Erik showed up
it's going to be fixed
he'll apologize to Decker for blowing his stacka thousand other little phrases that begin to form in indrawn breath
attention that snaps away from her wrist and looks to her, startled
distracted by her sudden grip, the swing of long legs and body twisting and so suddenly there
whatever he was going to say fades away in the movement of his jaw within the devouring kiss
there was volume there, but it just filters into nothing
swelling again in a low, trembling moan he just can't helpshe put him at a loss
a total, confounded, surprised loss
of all her reactions, this is not the one he expected
not this sudden, blind, driving, violent kiss
and at first he can only take it
then there's the slow realization his hands are still attached
fine black fabric wrinkling beneath their slow smooth across thigh, hip, and flank
climbing to her upper back and shoulders
and as much as he takes, he now returnswhat is it, that happens, when their two spheres of Rage collide
(rune)
Whatever he thought, whatever he was going to say, whatever words he lost beneath her assault: maybe she feels them anyway, breaking across her skin like waves pounding over breakings, streaming into shore. He finds his hands, and his hands find her body, glide over silky stuff like oil over water, skimming the sweet, twisting surface of her body as they plunder each other, each to each.His hands settle on the convex curve of her upper back, where it bleeds into the taut strength of her shoulders, and he can feel the tension in her - of the last days and nights, of the fight and its aftermath, of the unreasoning rage of her packmate and the ridiculous follies of that long fucking night, of the full moon riding high high high in the curve of the sky above. He can feel that tension as it draws tight, and tighter and tighter through her body, to be released in the long devouring kiss.
(I'll tell you all about it sometime.) She must come up for air sometime. She must come up for more air than the brief, gasping breaths drawn sidelong in the midst of the hard, desperate kiss. She must come up for air. (I need to tell you all about it sometime.)
And she does, at last. She does.
She breaks the kiss as last, sliding her cool cheek alongside his (the window is still open, the nightbreeze whips through the open window, sending her hair scattering across his cheek and jaw, tumbling into his eyes), and her mouth finds his skin at last. Her breaths are short and sharp, gasping little things that distend her shoulders and back against his strong hands splayed open, and his knuckles graze the roof. She breaks the kiss at last, but does not collapse against him: the close, awkward quarters and her precarious balance, poised between their two seats will see to that.
"I want to tell you what happened." Her voice is low and urgent, raw with the presence of her rage. "I'm going to tell you what happened. But I need - " she breaks off, her teeth scrap hard along his cheek, blind contact with his cheekbone, following the rising line toward his ear. " - but first. First." Another harsh breath. Somewhere in the middle of all this, her dark glasses have fallen from her eyes, tumbled down his torso. She begins shifting her weight back to her side of the car, and the small movement dislodges them further; they fall to the side, clattering between the passenger's seat and the door. Another eighteen-wheeler trundles by, the force of its passage, the vortex of air behind it shaking the small car violently. Her hand twists in his hair, hard, seeking stability. "We need to go somewhere."
"Now."
(james)
he's lost in that kiss
he's lost in that desperation
he's lost, completely, annihiliatedly, LOST in her
(gaia i've missed you)
half scrambling back to the surface after she comes up for air...what? air?
what's this... air?
we need air?
no... wait... come back here...
I thought you were my air....even so blisteringly close, he can focus on her
their eyes should cross, but he's found way to focus on her so minutely there is no need
even if he can only see the barest glimpse of her in the darkness - he can see all
he wants to chase after the kiss
he wants to silence the gasping breaths
all he wants is to fulfill that needhe doesn't want to let go as she moves away
teeth close on lower lip to feel the twist in dreads
see? she didn't want to let go either
he can't help the raise of his chin
the grip that stretches his throat to exposure
even now.... he submits
swallowing hard"That hotel should only be a few miles up."
pointing a hand rather than moving against her grip to nod
what hotel? the one where he discovered room service wasn't only an urban legend
and boots brace against floorboards when the Beemer launches back onto the road(rune)
She didn't want to let go either, but she did, somehow. Somehow she let go of him. Somehow she freed him. Somehow she settled into the driver's seat and fumbled for the gear shift (first. first. first, goddamnit. first. where the fuck is first. fucking. gear?) and launched the Beemer onto the road.(Follow that semi!)
The full-moon-rage, the aggression and want of the kiss they shared (it's been a fucking. week.) is sublimated into the rote rhythm of driving. And so Rune drives: fast. and hard. (traffic laws? what the hell are traffic laws?) hurtling them forward and weaving in and out of the heavy holiday traffic. They're a silver (...well, purple) bullet searing through the night, bright lights blinding fellow drivers and everyone in the opposite lanes, tires literally squealing (like. a. stuck. pig. another trip to the BMW dealership is in her future, though this one will be all her own fault) as she crosses two lanes of traffic and flings them toward the exit.
What hotel? Oh, that hotel. Bet they remember us.
And there it is. Right in front of them. The wide glass doors reflect the brights back at them screamingly, eye-splittingly, but Rune doesn't seem to notice. Somehow she grabs her keys from the ignition and her coat from the narrow back and climbs out of the car. She doesn't bother to wait for him. She doesn't even look back. She doesn't look forward, either, because she paused to get her coat and he could be three steps ahead of her. That could be him opening the glass doors with a whoosh of hot air (it's frigid out here, and her arms and legs and shoulders are bare, and her heels clatter against the pavement and scattered salt crunches beneath the driving force of every step but she doesn't. fucking. notice.). That could well be him, but she keeps her eyes cast firmly to ground, and then the floor as she marches toward the front desk and fumbles for a credit card from her wallet in the front pocket of her coat, now dangling from one finger of her left hand.
She doesn't look at him, not even after the room is bought and paid for, and the key is in her hand. Certainly not as she thrusts a hundred dollar bill toward the front desk clerk with promise of more - "Park my car. Don't fucking hurt it and there'll be another one like this tomorrow." - along with her keys. No, she doesn't look at him. She just looks at her key to get the room number.
She doesn't look at him at all at; if she did, something might happen.
(james)
she doesn't look at him
he, most definitely, looks at her
still amazed by that (amazing!) dress
the car forgotten
the clerk forgotten
and he didn't drag his eyes away from her long enough to get the room numberhe just follows
we've been here before
not just physically
we've been here
I've stalked you, through this lobby
I've hunted you, through these hallways
and I've caught you, in this elevator
and I've pillaged you, beyondwhen the doors whisper shut behind them
he gives her only the time it takes to hit the proper button
that's when he forces her to look at him
he does it with placement of hands on her waist
trailing over and around and up to her shoulders
hands that suddenly push, and keep pushing until she thumps back against the elevator wall
and that's him, suddenly as close to her as she put herself to him in the Beemer
there's a bare inch between them
(it's. been. a. WEEK.)she can still feel it
the trembling sphere of rage that's crackling around him
the dark storm that has suddenly reignited within darker eyes
pupil swollen to nearly claim entire iris - just as the silver orb swells pregnant in the sky
his lips part on inhale
drawing the scents that roil off of her
smelling her, tasting her, outright feeling her without yet touching
and his hands slide down shoulders to arms
and his hands slide down arms to circle her wrists
and his hands splay, fingers twining slowly in a grip that would be harsh to any others
and his hands rise, with hers, drawing them both above their heads
pinning her against the wall
for that single, indrawn, breaththat's when the elevator dings
and the doors slide open
and the keycard stolen from her grasp
already he's pulled away and walking down the hall
(rune)
They've been here before.He has stalked her through this lobby, and he has hunted her through these hallways, and he has caughter her in this elevator (and he has pillaged her, beyond). And then the elevator dings and the doors woosh open, and then it is her turn to stalk him.
She remains there - hands upflung above her head, sliding slowly down alongside, collapsing in a long hissing whisper against the padded wall as if she were making snow angels (and there are no angels here), mind fucking reeling from the veritable assault of his presence, body whip-taut and so fucking still (hold. it. together. and not. much. farther. now.) that she forgets to breathe for three seconds, or ten, or thirty.
The elevator door is starting to slide closed. She physically interposes herself between the closing door and the metal frame beyond, accepting the brunt of the push without noticing how heavy it is. There's a muttered curse as her hands fold over the door and push it back, allowing her to sliiiiiide on through, like a serpent in the garden.
He's three steps ahead. He's five steps ahead. He's half-way down the fucking hallway already, but her legs are long and her strides and longer and she moves faster than any individual creature walking on two legs on this gaia's green (and red and black and paved over and dying) earth has a right to do. She's moving like an animal. Her strides devour the distance. She is a hunter, and it doesn't matter that this is a quiet, plush hallway (it could be a jungle, it could be a dank and dirty street, it could be the fucking moon for all she cares): she. will. have. her prey.
He slides the keycard into the reader, watching as the light slips from red to green (go! ...and don't worry about the two hundred dollars). It's his hand on the knob, twisting to tumble the locks open, but it's her hand - her hands - on his shoulders from behind, pushing the door open (pushing him into the opening door. somehow it all works out.) and following close in his wake.
And then they're inside. The door is suddenly the other way, the darkened room before them. And the door - well, it's closing too slowly for her liking (they need their privacy) - and she's reversing direction, pulling him back with her, straining to shift his forward momentum into backward momentum until she crashes against the door which crashes closed and he crashes back into her.
Somewhere along the way, he lost his trenchcoat. Now, her hands are diving for his skin.
(james)
the hand in his collar shifts direction
the conscious weight and want sends him back to her like a crashing wave
she pulls, and he steps, he pounces, he hurls himself through the air between them
suddenly coming through some curtain and invading her world
if life is a stage - he just set the play into a Holy Warthe plot is scorched earth
(you've asked me to make you burn.... can you handle it again)
the theme is unadulterated revenge
(how dare you be away from me a week)
the mood is heavy, dark and vicious
(how dare you.....)whatever it is that drives her stress
whatever it is that's wrought tension through her as iron
whatever it is that's kept her from him is gone. now.
she's not allowed to think of it
she's not allowed to remember it
she's not allowed to think of anything. but. him.because in the nights he's slept alone
he couldn't think of anything. but. her.his hands in their quest
his lips in their conquest
the sudden rip of fabric beneath her nails
the give and break of his flesh beneathsomewhere in the night a storm grows to cloud the pregnant moon
inside, it's already torrential downpour
whatever it is Luna held within her birthed into a greedy beast
arms wind, hands crawling to find their way between her back and the door
her weight lifted as if it were nothing
(but. she's. everything.)
her legs wrapped around his waistand he's moving away from the door they so brutally closed
(not good enough)
he's taking her back further into the darkness
some savage animal dragging prey further into it's santuary cave
right now there's no pack to judge
right now there's no stories to worry
right now there's no saving grace - only a demon's lusting calltonight, for now, in the darkness
where he's seen things she will never see
he's heard things she will never admit were spoken
he's felt things he thought were dead and buried
tonight
she's
his[pause]
Posted by james at 12:00 AM.12.18.02. - priorities [decker][pine barrens, con't from previous scene]
(decker)
A glance up. A faint tilt of the younger Fenrir's chin up for the elder, and then the elder is gone into the forest. Like a fuckin' phantom.Left alone, Decker finishes cleaning under his nails and starts trimming them with the same knife. So James. 'Cause he could damn well feel him in there, too. Gonna feel better if you kick my ass around a bit?
(james)
yep
he's still sitting there, quietly
(seething)
a flicker of dark gaze up and a nod, up, in hello to Ra'gon
and while he can feel their Alpha moving away
he still hasn't really movedto get up and leave and work off what's veritably boiling would include getting his backpack
which is by the front door
and he's pretty sure Decker is still there
and while pack is pack
he doesn't want to start anything because his temper is flowing (however sedated)
he values pack more than thatfloor by the dining table must be real interesting
cause he's staring at it again
and then there's a half-snorted laugh
Only because you'd let me to make me feel better? the words are caustic and hard. as. steel No.
immediately he regrets saying it
sometimes you can't even control your mental tongueand with a sigh he's up
moving across the living room
he's not going to add to the raised tempers that have been in the house(decker)
Then what, James?There's a delay in the reply during which he continues to trim his nails. The kinwomen, not involved in the mental conversation, might take affront in.
Then, quiet, "'Sup Zoe. 'N no, Eliza, I ain't."
As James appears at the door, Decker glances up at the Bone Gnawer before returning to his crude manicure. You tell me.
(james)
there's a smooth sweep of hand to snatch the backpack from it's place by the door
he'll apologize to Eliza for just walking out unannounced later
but he's pretty sure she can feel he's still not a happy camper
even with the touch of her gift
which just makes it outright infuriating
but even with all that's happened here
and that the house is no longer the same
he still respects it for what it was
so takes his little temper right on outsidethere's a pause, as he straightens
just.... glaring.... at the Modi
the poor Jansport succumbing to clenched fist in haphazard hangI don't know. his gaze averts, that much is ingrained no matter what I'd love to pummel the shit out of you for what you ended up doing to Lila. not the house, not the Kin, not the Garou, not anything else - just Lila. But it's not my place or right to do so, is it.
(decker)
And the Modi stands looking back, the knife paused, a sliver of fingernail half-cut from the whole. He stands tonguing the outside of his molars, keeping his thoughts to himself, until:You know I wouldn'a if I ain't had to do it. But I did. 'S how my priorities lie.
The women above the children.(james)
Do I?
lightning crackles in dark eyes
he's still trying to figure out exactly what Eliza did
and this slippery grasp on what he tends to know so intimately
is. not. helping.
he should be heading right on over the edge
but he's not.
he's staying rather... level
and that's confusingRight now, I couldn't tell you anything I know you'd do, except let your fucking blood get your temper up and out of control where you acted without thinking. Your priorities fucked up a little kid. Where the HELL did you learn to think like that?
it must look really interesting
Decker calmly giving himself a manicure
James randomly gesturing to puncuate his words
yet not a sound between them(decker)
Calmly?
Calmly?The half-cut nail suddenly rips off and the switchblade, thrown, impales the ground at James' feet. The Modi stands tense as a bowstring, pulling great deep breaths out of the moonsilvered night air.
Kinder-fuckin-garten, James.
Another beat, and then the Modi stalks forward, bends and rips the switchblade out of the ground, clicks the blade into the handle, turns, and starts walking off. James can follow for all he cares, but they were a little too close to kin. Again.
(james)
he doesn't move as the switch flies
hey, after having a shank of rebar through your foot?
switchblades are child's play
he doesn't move as the Modi stalks, either
he may look down, at pertinent times
but he doesn't back downactually moving forward
he knows they're too close to Kin, for whatever's going to happen
so weight shifts and he's following Decker
boots crunching on the gravel
whatever this is
it isn't over
move along, James, awaaaay from the cabinhe's silent otherwise though
all but biting his mental tongue
to snarl after his packmate as they're walking away?
he'd feel like a fucking rabid shreiking poodle yapping at his heels(decker)
A ways into the forest, the Fenrir stops. Turns around. Holds out his hands a moment, palms up, as though to say - well?(james)
the walk gave him time to think
and sometimes? That isn't a good thing
So that's what happened to you.
a... breif... pause
fabric rustling as arms cross over his chest
Well congratu-fucking-lations, Decker, you just put her through kindergarten. She's gonna grow up to be an Ahroun. Just. Like. You.
that pause should have been longer
he -knows- he shouldn't have said that
not even through the Totem Phone
most especially not to someone that outranks him
most especially not to someone he knows can beat the shit out of him
which is probably going to happen about now
(fuckin'. full. moon.)
but yeh, the Gnawer said it anyway(decker)
One second, a man-shaped Modi.
The next, a bristling grey direwolf flowing through the air.WHAM. Lands on James, their combined weight bearing them both bonejarringly to the ground. One on four paws (twenty claws), one on his back.
Words - human words, even in this form, because the insult was delivered long before his Change - That is NOT what happened. You don't know SHIT about what happened to MY MOTHER.
Wha...?
Kids grow up. Sooner the better. Then they can start fighting back.
(james)
he was expecting it
but the wind still gets knocked out of him on impact
bone still jars painfully when the ground rushes up all too fastnow he knows this is also a bad idea
but when it rains, it pours
No, I don't know what happened to her, and I'm sorry something did, but I know someone gave you nightmares. Just like you gave that little girl.
snarled inside their heads
the Modi went dire, the Gnawer goes chrinos
curling to draw his legs up
huge paws plant on belly and SHOVE
he follows to roll into a crouch
You teach them to fight so they don't have to fight back, you teach them how to never get backed into that corner inside the words spat, though a low growl rolls through the air You don't pass on the same scars that were lain on you(decker)
Pushed back, the beast braces himself on four paws and doesn't drive the attack (again). Snarl for growl, the low ripple ripping its way through the calm night.You teach them. Bitter. as. bile. I'm only good for the killing, remember?
CRACK. - a snap of enormous teeth, the sound of a dozen steel traps closing on air, a physical severing of the conversation. The direwolf wheels about, shrinks to the lupus form, and stalks stiff-leggedly away from the clearing they'd either found - or made in the scuffle.
(james)
a low sound rattles in the crisp air
throttled enough to break the icy atmosphere
broad head shaking at the physical lancing of their connection
that hurt about as much as getting slugged
(if not more)this time he doesn't follow
he wants to, he wasn't done saying what he wanted to
but even furious, he respects those that outrank him
and there's no doubt in his (aching) mind that the Fostern has ended their conversation for the night
handpaw swings out, dormant bark splintering beneath the volatile talons
frustration vented in animalistic gruntgrowlsnarlbellowhowlit's quite a few minutes later that he's able to shift down, grab the pack
and head off in another direction about 45 degrees from the other's path
yea.... there should be some road.... eventuallyPosted by james at 12:00 AM.12.18.02. - untitled [eliza-erik-decker-others][pine barrens]
(james)
hard work is a great way to blow off the growing Rage
and it's been growing
unlike his packmate, he hasn't had any stressful situations to channel it into
so he's been using the other alternative
just keeping it mellow, keeping it cool
sense of humors do a wonderful thing for Full Moons
at least one like the Gnawer
so he had spent the better part of the day helping Phil and Clyde with the stacksin return, he's now in the combi-van with Clyde
chatting about this and that on the ride out to the Barrens
a direction given here and there to navigate the roads towards the kin's house
then as gravel crunches beneath the wide tires at the top of the driveway
he gathers up the Jansport pack
door shutting with a solid thunk"Thanks man, take it easy tonight."
knocking on the metal siding in farewell
that's when he turns and strolls down the remaining drive
a brow lifting at the new plywood decorations
..... what the hell?(eliza)
The winter wind was chill and chaffing against the skin, howling mournfully through the trees at the most inopportune times, catching against the skin and dragging the moisture away with it.Lights were on throughout the house (all the better to see you by, my child...), but the front door was open and a truck was parked out front, already laden with several boxes in the tray.
Curious and curiouser...
(james)
well, with the truck
the plywood did make sense
or maybe it was the other way aroundboots thunk on the steps
then across the porch
knuckles lifting to tap on the open door"Eliza? Mae?"
(dire)
*He exits the glorified shack in the back yard and streches. Dressed as normal, Steel toed combat boots, jeans, Flannel, this one blue, under the Leather jacket two sizes too large. He pulls the neon green toboggan cap over his head and scraches an ear. Pup was sleepin' good deal. He casually picks up Bubba and hangs it inside the coat. The pry end still sticks out the bottom of the coat two sizes too large on the 6'3" skald. He sniffs the air and heads for the big house. Ohhhh lights. Ms Eliza must be back*(eliza)
Mae was standing in the living room, heavy sweaters making her older figure more round, more plump, more... doughy. Just what you'd expect from a mother that had already raised a litter of her own kids and seen them off through college for an education to better help the Furry Cousins. She was wrapping a few delicate items in newspaper, pausing before she stowed another item into one of the boxes on the dining table. Her lips pursed into a thin line, eyes flicking towards the hallway and then back to James."Come in, James."
She wasn't going to hold anything against James ... at least, not until James ran away screaming that he wasn't going to wear what she had waiting for him (James always got presents, it seemed).
(james)
his brow furrows, looking around
Jansport pack dropped and settled in the place claimed as his beside the door
for some reason
he's a little hesitant coming in
(would YOU dare approach a matriarch with that purse on her lips?)
there's still the friendly smile, though
he likes the older woman
even if she wants to lop off his dreads"What... happened?"
(dire)
*he hops up on the back deck. Quite the agile lanky Skald he is. Looking both left and right he gently knocks on the door. Sniffing the air for smells of cooking*
(eliza)
Mae, the matron nanny that was also Eliza's only support raising Lila and Jonathan, put her hands on her rather well endowed hips (hands curled into fists) and snorted."Testosterone."
The living room wall around the fireplace was scorched black in patches and partial fragments of rugs and other small items had gone to a place where there would be no resurrection for them.
(james)
his brows lift a bit
something clicks
and the Gnawer nods, slowly
testosterone, right
his sense of smell puts everything else together
at least what he canmake out over the pine-sol and acrid burn"Want any help?"
dark eyes flicking towards the knock on the back porch
(eliza)
Mae waves a hand to several already packed storage boxes with one hand as she returns to wrapping several more of the more valuable household items in newspaper, carefully stowing them away."You can help lift the heavier boxes, if you like... Eliza is in her office going through her supplies, if you came to see her."
(erik)
And finally...Finally
Crunching down the pavement, comes the alpha. Decker's boss. Absentee father. Deadbeat dad.
He looks up at the ruin of the house and thinks... Yep, this -must- be the place.
(james)
he came to see all of them, truthfully
that plan to keep it mellow, keep it cool
and he's not quite sure if it's gone out the window, yet
but physical labor is still a great way to channel
(damn. swollen. moon.)"I'll get the boxes first.... make room for you to sort out others."
so with a nod, he walks over
and it's a rather quiet procession
but the heavy (okay, all) the boxes are moved into the truck outside
they treated him well
he doesn't mind a little lifting and stacking
like he told Jael, hospitality goes a long wayafter the last box has been settled into the truck bed
the Gnawer walks back in
peeling those "gloves" from his hands and shoving them into a convenient pocket"When you've packed more, I'll move 'em out, too."
that's about when he hears the crunching on the gravel outside
getting that itchy pack feeling right between his shoulderblades
(uh oh, dad's comin')(eliza)
Someone (Decker) had obviously tried to improve the gaping hole in the front wall (near the door) with several large sheets of plywood. The front door stood open, the lights were on and illuminating the porch and living room (signs of life) and the faint sounds of life (and voices) spilled from within.Mae continued with her packing steadily, her lips pursed as if she was stopping herself from making any form of unwanted commentary: she knew what had happened (witness) and perhaps she knew more from proceeding nights. She wasn't about to say anything, however, because she knew full well the state of the moon and the state of Fuzzy tempers during their 'time of the month' ...
Soft bootfall from the hallway as Eliza emerged, a small wooden chest in her arms which she placed on the dining table beside the others.
A pause. Her tilting slowly to one side. The smell. The feeling... musles tightening alone her shoulders as she stood slowly straighter for a pregnant moment. Pause. A slight tip of relaxation. It hadn't what she'd thought...
"James."
(erik)
He glares angrily at the house. Truth be told, his ruined face couldn't do -anything- but glare angrily. Scarred. Outside and in.But now... Now... His face sets, gives new meaning to his perpetual anger. Yet a smal sigh escapes him. He can only guess at the carnage this has caused.
Stinkin fianna...
He just stands out there, now on the property, mere feet from the door. James'll come out. Eventually.
(james)
while he's in better control that others
it's still obvious this is his time of the month
there's that underlying ebb and swell of Rage that's slowly growing to match the moon above
and while the old matron bites her tongue
he's trying to not do anything to instigate a lashing, eitherthat's the funny thing about Gnawers
they treat kin and Garou alike
he's just as wary of a mother's tongue as he is a PMS'd Garou's claws
looking up with a grin that's seen as well as heard"Hey Eliza..."
and while he'd chitchat a little more in salutation
he can feel his Alpha behind him
a glance to Mae
and weight shifts to turn back around
dreadlocked head poking out the door"Erik."
(erik)
"Heya kid... 's a fuckin mess."He steps up onto the porch.
(eliza)
Eliza absently reaches up and rubs one of her upperarms slowly (agitation) before seeming to have the action dawn upon her and drops the hand. Mae, watching James and Eliza with a long-term mother's scrutiny, only frowns deeper and with a click of her tongue that sounded much like a repirmanding "tsk" she sets about packing again.Eliza, dressed appropriately for the task of packing in a cold house, carefully picks her way around the dining room table, hands out to either side and brushing along the top of the furniture she passes and boots nudging anything that gets in her way. The living room floor was still, as to be expected, a mess. The hadn't come back to clean, but to pack away the valuables that couldn't be easily replaced (sentimental value). Across the living room to James, mostly out of view, to lean against the wall beside the door (you should be paranoid about walls: you never know when a monster might come through one). She crosses her arms, fingers massaging corresponding upper arms unconsciously (agitation.residual.pain)and leans there, listening (but obviously not watching).
(james)
there's a soft chuckle from the Gnawer"It's even prettier inside."
the grin is a little tight
but dreads shake as his head nods back towards the inside
C'mon in
and he turns towards Eliza just inside"Eliza... Mae... this is my Alpha Erik."
his hand reaches out, a light touch on Eliza's elbow
a subtle direction for her to where, exactly, the Rotagar is and will be once stepping inside
said in that "I didn't bring him here but here he is" sorta way
whatever it is he came for, himself, is set aside
the Omega deferrence is obvious(eliza)
Mae put the last of the wrapped items into antoher box and without much scrutiny of the situation, even after all that had happened, she turns towards the kitchen with a comment passed back over her ample shoulder."I'll get some drinks."
Even now, the hospitality was there, even if the house (and certain occupants) was much cooler than was usual.
Eliza, meanwhile, pushed herself from her lean against the undamaged portion of wall beside the door and stepped further into the room... no need to get too close, was there? Gaia knew that, aside from James, the rest of the pack she'd met had the shown personality of a brick and whip-taunt tempers (and how well she knew that now). It wouldn't be too big of a surprised to find Erik followed the same trend.
(ra'gon)
Its the small things that count in life. A good pair of feet! Worthy shoes to comfort those pesky footfalls. Strong legs to carry you speedily with! And lets not forget that incredible speed! Barreling down twice the speed of ANY born of Gaia, his path a small moon sliver twisting and churning through the umbra. Greedily grasping the crumpled envelope in hand..no one ever dares request a 'Fragile' delivery from on of his ilk.(erik)
Followed? He sets the bar so high the rest of the pack needs a ladder to get to where he is.But he didn't come here for that.
He strides into the ruined house, once a home. Looks around, first at Eliza, then the retreating form of Mae. slides his eyes over the damage, the burned area, the blood. Yeah, its still there, on the wall. He has eyes for it. Then he looks at James.
Does even his pack ever get used to that mauled face, scarred deeply, many times. Badges of glory. Horrible and strong and pointless.
He know's this. Decker does not.
"Jeeze. Real fuckin mess. And the kids were here?" That's what he was told...
(ra'gon)
Out! Out like a ripple tearing through the gaunlet! As if shredding it suddenly assunder. Just as those boot heals touch the gravel churt, his movement stops...his body giving into a sudden halt. Eyes...deep dark...they spark to the left then to the right. A low growl eminates from his homid form lips. Damn! Damn! it followed! If this had been a haven for his own kinsmen he would sound the alarm! "Spiriti! Mogilua Spiriti!" But no alarm would he give. No! instead and with much determination he wrestles himself to control from bristle. He must endure the taunting, the conjoling..or worse yet..the attempt to harm.As suddenly as he arrived his compossure is restored. Donning a false grin as not to raise suspicion his eyes dart over the KOE village. "I wonder which huvel is his..hmmmm" He mumbles as he slowly stalks to the first cabin, eyes in search of a name plastured upon a door, a wall...for christs sake something.
(ra'gon)
to James, Eliza Bahn, Erik: 5'10, App-2 165ibs fit physique. Short wild and unkept dusty brown hair hides under a old world Romany scarf worn tightly around his head, it's tails drape down his back. One bright blue constrasts against a dark brown peer out from behind small rim sunglasses. His ears adorned with a single golden hoop in each. Wearing faded Gap Jeans with Wal-mart camel colored steel toe boots. A dirty white t-shirt under a Light tanned leathered blue jean denim style cut Rancher's jacket. His belt brown, with a brass buckle depicting a crocodile tightly secures his pants. Upon his belt a leather sheath housing a hunting lock blade knife rests. Around one wrist he wears a simple copper wide band, his other a metallic silver inlayed with a granite bear claw. Each of his fingers weilds a sharply contrasting ring. Some silver in design, some gold, all tribal from tribes all over the world.(james)
he does stand out from the pack, doesn't he
at least from those she's so far met
and it's not just in looks aloneat Erik's question, his head shakes
strong shoulders rolling in a shrug"I don't know, I didn't even know it happened until 20 minutes ago. It's her place."
nodding towards Eliza
then the Gnawer looks down
it's not because of his Alpha's face
unnerving as that is, he's seen worse, even if it is still unsettling to have the perpetual glare aimed at you
and it's not because of the automatic submission
there's somethign elsecan you feel it?
can you feel the sudden swell and tighten of Rage?
the edge that crept into warm voice
the lock of muscle along the side of his jaw
the dark storm suddenly gathering in deep umber eyes
the sudden whipcrack thunder of energy that roiled beneath his skin
one intollerance sets off another
the. kids. were. here.so much for being mellow...
(eliza)
Before she speaks she uncurls an arm from their crossed position and brushes it acorss James' shoulder. Some of the reason was because she knew it pained him and it wasn't somerhing she wanted to feel, some of it was because she didn't need her senses assaulted any further than they needed to be already and a small portion of it was because, dammit, she could.A wisp of calm spreads from the Kinfolk at her touch, wrapping around the Gnawer and the building Rage. Calm down...
"They were in the hallway."
Deadpan (glacial cool) tone and even more dead eyes (sight unseeing) sliding from the Gnawer and across to the Alpha, or more pointedly, to where she knew his voice to be eminating from. Sometimes, a missing sense can be a blessing, as it meant she wasn't inflicted with the perpetual sight of the Erik's ruined features.
(ra'gon)
Eyes cast downwards as his fingers unfurl the crumpled envelope. "Wonderful" He mumbles. There upon the envelope was scribbled words that formed a name...not a number! NOT A FUCKING NUMBER! "How am I suppose to work like this?" He growls as he ruins the missive again in his tightly clenching hands. "Lets see.." Stepping upon the porch of the # 2A cabin. ~So there must be a 1A..great..now its alphabetical as well.~ He knocks while grumbling and lets out a bolsterious hollar in a strange accent "Ello! Ich bez lookin for somvon...Ello?"(erik)
Yeah, hallway. And when she speaks he fixes his baleful glare upon her. He hammers it down, mountainous, heavy, revealing...It is just his way.
...then he shakes his head, saddly even. Kinda close for comfort. "That's fucked."
Is that all he can manage to say? Is that what he came out here for. Came back from his long absence for? Is that it?
"Been any nightmares since?"
(ra'gon)
He waits....waits...
Waits...
Sighs and waits...
Leans in towards the door and presses his ear against it
Eyes roll up...sqwint..
Pulls back...
Shakes head and moves towards the next cabin. Grumbling the whole time in a strange language(james)
he.... blinks.... at the touch
he had forgotten that little trick
and beneath the tangle of jungle-vine dreads - shoulders relax
(daaaaamn, if Rune could only get weed this good)
it's not all gone
but he's much calmer
about to softly grin a silent thanks
.... then he remembers himself
voice soft enough to not interrupt the conversation"Thanks Eliza."
now, definitely would not have been a good time
with everything else that has happened here, wouldn't be good at all, truthfully
but even he's a little surprised at his Alpha's..... short... remark
brow lifting on glance up
though you guessed it, the Gnawer stays quiet(ra'gon)
He halts quiet suddenly before mounting the porch of the Cabin. His hand swatting about as if being swarmed by pesky flies. Growling "Away! Away!"His eyes narrow upon some unseen thing..following round his head turns with till he lets slip another snarl and takes those steps. The sound of his boot heal over the plank boards of the porch cause his reluctant stare to return to the front. Again his balled fist rapports against the barrer. "Ello! ist somevon der?"
(eliza)
"Lila has, yes."Lila, the future Fianna ahroun who could have been descimated by a single garou claw strike. Lila the fey four year old who'd argued with Rune about which tribe was "biggera and baddera" and had fallen to sleep, curled up on James. Perhaps she should send future therapy bills to Decker, out of sheer spite (don't.mess.with.family).
She leans back against one of the more solid pieces of furniture, dead eyes flowing down at stare, one would think, at the mess below their feet. Silence follows for awhile.
"Decker won't be going near them anytime soon..."
Something about her tone, the way she phrased it sounded like even if the children hadn't seen Decker since the 'incident', they were the only ones who'd had that priviledge.
Making chairs: who would have guessed the Modi had it in him?
(erik)
He nods, then runs his hands through his long, black, 'gnawer-oily hair. "No blame to Noah, then?"(carmen)
She got tricked into taking a nap AGIN. She wasn't tireds atall until her dire started singin. She knowd he had to go and do sumpin, and if he's not back, she's supposed to stay inside.
but she's four.
she doesn't always listen..
even this close to chris'mis.
She rubs the sleep from her eyes, and clambers down from the bed, making a quick search (and potty stop) to see if her Dire's back yet. Not findhing him, little hands pop on her hips and she thinks.
Maybe nows the time to see if Mis'liza's comed home yet. She kin helps her with her question she knows it. She searches and finds her boots, and pulls them on over mismatched socks (on red, one purple), coat following over biballs with one side undone and t-shirt - though the coat remains unzipped cuz she can't figure outs how to get it started and stuffs. Teddybear in one hand, lipsticks tucked in coat pocket, and she's gots everything...
It takes all the little girls weight to pull open her door and again to close it behind her, and little footsteps run through the snow toward mis'liza's house.(eliza)
"There is ample blame to be passed around. Even to Noah."Just because he was Family didn't mean that there wouldn't be a grudge of some sort held, spoken or not. Her family, at least to her, came before the petty testosterone based squabbling of male Garou.
"Decker may want to watch where he puts his hands, however, lest he wants to make a complete hypocrit out of himself in the future, however."
If a certain Garou hadn't interfered, then Imogen possibly would have just kept the incident to herself. A private matter, that at that point prior to Decker claiming the other Fianna Kin as his mate, had been between Tribe: a Garou with rage and a Kin that had been punching his buttons till he'd lost his temper. It could have been worse: Noah could have killed her in a spat of temper. Such things weren't uncommon, especially so close to the full moon. Up until that comment, the same could be said of a following incident that had been just as close and resulting in the same problem. The only difference was... Eliza wasn't about to go tattle to Noah that Decker had done exactly the same thing to one of the Fianna only two days later.
(eriK)
He stands, suddenly, but goes no where. Just stands there. Looks pretty much nowhere. "I'll see to yer kid's nightmares."Stands there still, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his olive-drab army jacket.
(carmen)
She skips up the steps to door that goes into the kitchen, and little fingers knock and little voice rings out sweetly (oh the cute factor is in full effect) "Mis'Liza? you homes yet?"
She could probably look through a hole in the wall somewhere but that's like looking in windows and momma always said dats rude..(james)
the gift was a breath of fresh air
honestly
dampening things for a bit
but it's integrally hard for him
to hear this
he wants to get angry (angrier) but he just.... can't
so he seethsjust seeeeeeeths
the little would-be Ahroun that clung to him like an little Irish vine
the child that snuck out after her bedtime to cuddle and play
until she trusted him enough to fall asleep curled in his arms
one adorable little girl that made him smile and remember he could be genuinely. happy.
terrified into nightmares by his packmatehe doesn't hear that last part, about hypocrisy
he doesn't even hear the kid's voice(eliza)
If Decker gave her children the heebie-jeebies (even prior to the brawl), then it stood to reason that Erik would probably scare the hell out of them. He didn't seem what you would call a pretty poster pin-up of the Garou race with such ravaged features. But what was she going to say? No? Well, she could ... but it sounded like a genuine offer and if it would allow the children to be able to sleep easier at night, then it wasn't something to be tossed aside negligently."And Decker?"
(ra'gon)
Again his eyes roll with the lack of reply from within the huvel. Another step and he was off, his first inclination was to bound to the next cabin, but the shifting forms from his right caught his attention. There away from these cabins was a hulking mass of once was..well..another huvel. Odd?! He turns and allows his feet to churn up the churt as he treads towards the ruin.(mae)
Mae, who had secluded herself in the kitchen to make drinks (hospitality) and to stop herself from saying something out of place (she didn't believe Eliza's fibs), opened the back door for Carmon and looked down at the little child. Some of the tension was drawn away at seeing Carmen (mom instinct) and she drew the child in out of the cold (not the house was that much better)."There now, child. You must be Dire's girl?"
(carmen)
Her eyes widen as Mae and not mis'liza opens the door - but she knows a mom when she sees one and she smiles brightly and nods, curls tangled from her nap bouncing as she nods her head. "uh huh.. I's Dire's cub - I's a good cub too. Is mis'liza homes yet? My DIre had to go to do sumpin and I's supposedta checks in here first afore I go n play or anything...and wanted to be sure mis'liza's ok cuz someone putted holes in her walls.." brows knit into a frown - talk about rude. shouldn't puts holes into other peoples things...(erik)
He turns away, towards the door, still forgetting what effect his ruined, mauled, horrible face can have on people.He has got to be the ugliest person little Carmen has ever seen.
He turns back when he sees her there, remembering the last child that ran screaming.
Litteraly.
But he is back, and he can feel the resistance in the woman. she doesn't want him anywhere near her young. Smart. Wonder why she lets the fuckin Fianna coward around her. "Don't worry. I won't even have to come near 'em... I'm gonna take their nightmares... And give em to Decker."
and don't think for one second -kid- that your alpha can't tell what your seethin about there. Pack is pack. If you don't remember that on yer own, Erik might find the mind to remind ya.
(mae)
"Eliza is talking at the moment, lass, but if you want I can make you some hot chocolate and... I think we still have some cookies somewhere in here."This from Mae and Carmen, and thankfully Mae's ample figure was probably blocking most of the girl's view of the grotesque visage of the Alpha.
(ra'gon)
Ah glyphs! Look at that. Thank beez to Jesus most Garou are cocky enough to mark their homes as such....of course never thinking of the 'hello..yes..here I am..come and get me' that it also sends out. Will they ever learn? Shaking his head quickly dismissing the thought as it came. More thankful actually it was there for him to see than anything. Fianna huh? Kinfolk huh? Wonderful! Now those blokes dont fool around and raise the ignorant ones. They'll know..but I wonder if they know they are standing in a ruin of a huvel? Maybe they are drunk. And with that he grins as he nears the front of that ruined cabin."Ello to those inside there...mind if I trouble yuz volks a moment. Im lookin for somvon" Glancing down at his crumbled envelope
(carmen)
"oh nummy! thanks you! does you got marshmellows to puts in it? I likes marshmellows, but if ya don'ts got none that's ok too." She glances around but doesn't quite catch a look at the Alpha, not yet... and her attention is captured pretty quickly by the thought of cookies and stuffs. "Mis'liza gived me some cookies not last night buut the night before with hots chocolate and it was really good. Bestest cookies I ever tasted - I even shared one with decker even though he's a meany boogerbreath." all said in a single breath as she is quite happy to remain by Mae's side. "but he calls me by my name now so I guess he's ok"(james)
he knows
he .knows.
and the dark gaze flicks up towards his alpha
he can't help it
pack is pack
and even if it's not his place to do anything about it
it doesn't mean he can't be upset at how a little girl is affected
quick enough, though, the angry gaze drops againno sir, I don't need to be reminded
(eliza)
"Would it be possible to put a time limit on what you intend to do?"Because, while Decker always brought the worst out in her and had provoked a vindictive ire in the mother, she also ran deep into caring for others of the Garou Nation, tribe or not. It was why her home was open to all. She was a counsellor that helped remove such trauma, not someone who wished to continually inflict pain upon others: especially not those as fucked up as Decker appeared to be.
(erik)
"Hmph." He can hardly believe her concern and dismisses it off hand. "watch you care?"But he is already turning away, towards the front door, opening, whatever...
(ra'gon)
"Silence! bravi'os beng! Baxt!" He spits as he jumps to the left abit, his arm swinging madly round, slicing the thin air in a wild sideward chop. Another jump to the right, a pivot, a twist of his torso and another flail from his hand crashes through the dark airy night.Silence as he stands there. Eyes narrow with disgust and hate upon something unseen. Long he waits...silent as he stares into infinity.
With the sudden sound of the door, his attention once again recaptured, his dark seedy eyes glisten to his right. A grin sweeps across his lips, forcing his cheeks to lift.
"Ello..."
(decker)
"You know, I fuckin' hate it when people talk behind my back."Ah. Well. There's Decker. Waiting outside, hands in his pockets, more or less ignoring Ra'gon. He can feel his pack nearby; he can feel his Alpha. And there's Eliza, her and her nightmare'd kids. And her ...passion. There's a long hard stare from the Modi, before it turns to Erik.
There's no fear there, and only minimal deference: but there is respect. A damn lot of it. "Been wonderin' when you'd show up to kick my ass."
(eliza)
"'Cause some of us actually have the ability to enter that spectrum of emotion that means we still give a damn about other people, regardless of how much the person is an asshole."Probably not under her breath enough, because James would be able to hear her reply and being the living room wasn't huge Erik would have heard the offhand comment as well. Why was it that the Get always had that niggling, annoying ability to nudge someone just the wrong way just by existing and then doubling the problem by opening their mouths? In another time, another place, another situation, she possibly wouldn't have said anything, however, just as Erik seemed to be able to pick up the smaller intricacies of people's body language and emotions. She, herself, was also adept at such.
(mae)
Mae settles Carmen down in the kitchen with hot chocolate and a plate of cookies (all for her!), keeping the child out of the adult conversation in the living room and on the porch because a child was perhaps the least of what everyone needed to deal with at the moment. Especially when Carmen felt the need to refer to Decker as a boogerbreath meanie.(erik)
He heard her alright, and he don't feel like tellin her that she don't know him. Telin her that those damn emotions were what started this in the first place.Fuckin people. He hates fuckin people.
But Decker. No, he likes Decker. He just doesn't likethe size of the britches he's been wearin latley...
And he ignores Ra'gon too, after a baleful stare. "That what yer doin back here? This where you hold all yer fights? Well, hang on. Lemme git the kids first. Maybe they wanna watch. again."
(carmen)
Truth is truth and all, and to a four year old it comes out whenever it does (least she wasn't whispering this time, because that's always louder then anything else.) She climbs up on a chair and beams at the plate of cookies (all for ME!) and happily starts munching. Course, maybe mis Mae can answer her question. "Miss? I was wonnering - oh these are goood cookies! - Since I's living with Dire now and I's his cub, I needsta get him sumpin for chris'mis, but I don't gots no money or no way to shops or nuthin.. so i thoughts I might drawed him a picture.... but I don't gots no crayons.. does mis'liza gots some crayons I can use?" All dark eyed innocence and earnestness.. she really wants him to have something nice too... cuz santa's gonna find her.... shes gotsta help santa find her Dire too.(ra'gon)
The sudden appearance of Decker actually causes his hackles to raise. His preditary instincts taking play. The curl of his homid form lips quiver revealing only the tip of his incisors. Oh he knew this one. The GET.Flashing a curtious smile and inclination of his head back towards the visiage of Erik. This must be the man of the house. Fianna? Yes...A bragging lot of boilsterous lushes, but a fair tribe of talegivers and warriors.
But that smile fades quickly as there seems to be trouble afray...Trouble between the GET and the Fianna? Another snear takes the place of his given smile. While clutching the envelope in one hand, his other wrestles itself into a fist. Enemy of my Enemy is my friend.
Shaking his head and clearing his throat..no need to make battle yet...its late and his missive has not yet been give.
"Excuse me, Pardon a moment, just a moment." Glancing down at his addressie "I am seeking the one who built the Ark..the Fianna. A finger to point my way is all I need" Glancing to the left then to the right "So I can find him where? So I may return you both to your fight?"
(james)
now isn't he in a lovely position
Decker's drawl greeted by a half glanced up glare
but he's looking back down again
Modi outranks him, too, and you just don't glare at your superiors
even if they're about to get ripped a new one
studyin the cracks in the floor infront of his chair, or something
and then Erik speaks to him
oh, yea, THAT is what he needed to hearthe Gnawer is clenched. down. tight
(thank Gaia for small favors in little gifts, hm?)with what just may go down
he's wondering if he should just mosey out on back
pack dynamics, and all(decker)
A roll of powerful shoulders, accepting the barb from the Alpha without raising his hackles. Sullen, "Ain't woulda involved 'em at all if that fuck hadn't been hidin' here like a lizard under a rock. Called 'im three times 'n he just hid. Told'im I was gonna come in 'n git 'im 'n he hid some fuckin' more."(mae)
Mae watches the little girl munching away on the cookies and babbling about christmas and cranyons before she nods."Wait right there, lass. I'll see if I can find some."
Lila's crayons were still in the house and were easily replaced. Wasn't this the time of giving and sharing? Well, maybe not among most of them (whole different religious thing going), but the child was obviously still in the Christmas mind and mood.
She heard Decker's voice as she stepped out of the kitchen and a frown deepened. She flicked a very unimpressed look at Eliza, for some odd reason, before she went to retrieve the crayons.
(erik)
He steps out wholey into the open, and glares (ugliest mutherfucker I ever seen. damn cold stare too) shut up at Ra'gon."I know." Now he's walking down the steps, towards the Modi. "Whole damn tribe a fuckin cowards. Fuckin liquid courage cowards. And look at the muther fuckin mess you let one drag ya into now. Fuck Decker..."
Then, and only then does Ra'gon have his attention. "Now what's this?"
(carmen)
"oh thank you!" Her delight is genuine and she sips her hot chocolate and waits as patient as the little girl can. She's already gots da bestest gift ever in her Dire.. and chris'mis is da best time of year! only thing close is her birfday but dats not for a while yets. oh - she fotgots to ask for paper! but she stays put - hot cocoa and cookies and the promise of crayons and she's quite the content little girl.
even though just feet away the rage weaves and rolls and just a ways away anger plays in tightened jaws and sullen voices. Little shoulders roll and brow furrows.. but cookies are so much more fun to pay attention too, don't you think?(decker)
Decker grunts and keeps his mouth shut while Erik sent Ra'gon on his way. Or prepared to tell Decker to kick his ass. Or something, or whatever.*eliza)
Standing so close to James he might notice the tense ripple of something (pain? anger? agitation? or something else entirely?) that pulled Eliza straighter at Decker's arrival (memories.flush.to.the.surface).She crossed her arms around herself, fingers rubbing her upper arms slowly. Her eyes were staring blankly at the ground (seeing.nothing) and then flick up, narrowing. Insult the Fianna in a Fianna's house. How... polite. Grit teeth.
"Hypocrit." very, very softly under her breath so that James was most likely the only one who heard the hiss of her breath as words.
(ta'gon)
Blinks...Blinks again...Ok mistake number one..never assume anything ever again. Now nodding to himself.
Eyes swallowing the horrible visiage of Erik...wow..and his mouth does drop just abit..one of those..Damn dude..you's ugly brut..but he closes it quick.
"Ja Ja..I am looking for the Herder..Noah...Important message..I take it you are not he...his family? Or himself is where? Or have their pads taken them elsewhere?" Looking down at the envelope again mumbling something about delays in postal address changes.
(james)
not good
not good
just... stare at the floor, Jamesthere's a dampened bristle at the hissed word
yea, he heard it
he just put two other factors together, too
but. says. nothing.(erik)
"Yeah, inside." He jerks his thumb towards the wreck of the house and turns his back on the messenger (boy).Back to Decker. He just stares at him. Long moments pass while he wrestles with a decision or some inner turmoil...
(ra'gon)
"Many thanks" And after the visiage is learing away he slides past him towards the porch in which he just came.(eliza)
(Insult the Fianna in a Fianna's house: change to Insult the Fianna on a Fianna's property)She pushes off the table, bootfall against the rubble making her steps very carefully lest she trips towards the door.
"I am family."
Which was true, in the loosest sense of the term, being that they were kin by Tribe if not by blood or mating.
Dark eyes that were disturbingly dead or emotion or thought, flicker across the area, head tilted and listening to the play of voices. They pause on Decker for perhaps a shade too long before flicking to the sound of Ra'gon's footsteps on the porch boards.
(zoe)
A cold winds blows. . . beneath the darkened sky. . . The sound of a vehicle approaching Eliza's once happy home. Some may note it, others may not, but it came nontheless. She'd been to the Barrens since the entire debacle but hadn't, mercifully, seen anyone. She wasn't sure how well she may handle them. Eliza she could, Eliza was in a worse state then her, no doubt. It had been her family after all. Other reasons were why this hit her too hard. . . so the Jeep came, more to look over the aftermath once more, see what could be done, what may have been done. . . and because she didn't think she wanted another night out in the wilds of the Barrens in meditation. Solitude can only be one's guide for so long. . .
(ra'gon)
With an outstretch of his free hand he opens his palm. His other still clutching the crumpled envelope"Kinsmen or immediate family?" His voice detacted, somewhat professional..his hand awaiting payment as is norm to his profession.
(decker)
Decker waits.Decker isn't patient. He doesn't mind staring matches with Imogen, but - the woman was a little bit better-lookin than the Rotagar. He meets Erik's eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze, fishing his switchblade out to pick under his nails a moment: an absent gesture, because he was thinking too.
"Lissen," clicking the switchblade back - and then whatever Erik's supposed to listen to isn't spoken at all. Pack business. You figger out some way I kin atone fer the kids 'n kin, 'n I'll do it. But I ain't grovelin' to Gabe 'r nobody fer draggin' that ass who laid hands on my woman around a l'il bit.
(erik)
"Yeah." did he read the Modi's mind?Pack. fianlly, a real pack.
One thing Decker doesn't realize though. What he's gonna do to atone will be MUCH less pleasant than grovelling to Gabe.
No, strike that. Decker's gettin off easy. (have to go. dinner is here)
(eliza)
"Kin."She leans against the frame of the doorway, eyes never quite makig it to Ra'gon's face, following his voice instad, or even looking at the hand held out. Something keeps distracting her, (sightless) eyes flicking to one side of the Messanger towards the two conversing Get.
"Why?"
(erik)
(jumps order for last post)"Well, I got things to do. You better make some sort of peace with the kid. He's in there..."
and with a final, hard look, erik walks into the forest.
(ro'gar)
Brows knitting together. Dropping his openned hand, his gaze drifts to linger a moment on what has her immediate attention.With a sigh he returns to her "You have never done this before, this I can see. Come kin to the builder of the great ship...let me explain a few things. Then will your eyes open and see."
Smiling geniunely, his eyes upon her, his hand outstretched for her to capture
(zoe)
Brows knitting together. Dropping his openned hand, his gaze drifts to linger a moment on what has her immediate attention.With a sigh he returns to her "You have never done this before, this I can see. Come kin to the builder of the great ship...let me explain a few things. Then will your eyes open and see."
Smiling geniunely, his eyes upon her, his hand outstretched for her to capture
(eliza)
"Open my eyes and I will see, huh?"A wry twist of her lips, tone souring very slightly as she arches an eyebrow. She shakes her head and gestures for him to step into the living room of the cabin.
"Poor choice of words."
(ra'gon)
He only bows and beckons her command, slipping behind her into the interior. Nodding once to James "Ello" he gives with a grin(decker)
A glance up. A faint tilt of the younger Fenrir's chin up for the elder, and then the elder is gone into the forest. Like a fuckin' phantom.Left alone, Decker finishes cleaning under his nails and starts trimming them with the same knife. So James. 'Cause he could damn well feel him in there, too. Gonna feel better if you kick my ass around a bit?
(carmen)
She bounces in her chair and takes another cookie (all for me!) and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand after another sip of cocoa. Mis'Liza's still talkin, she can hear her and she shifts in her chair agian and scratches her side under her coat and just continues feeding her latest sugar high.(zoe)
. . . She comes closer to Decker, while he busys himself with his knife and hands. Yeah, that was so terribly reassuring to see, since the last time she had seen him had been a towering form of wolfen rage. He hadn't been the warmest of people befoire in her opinion and now. . well, she was at least civil. Too many years of polite mannerisms to let it all go even if she would rather do so. . .
"Decker. . ."
. . . The acknowledgmant a sort of greetibng, maybe, as she moves to walk past him for the rather tattered and torn cabin. . .(eliza)
"Are you coming in?"She could still feel Decker (in so many different ways) standing there, so she didn't follow Ra'gon in directly after he had slid past her. She just lent there, against the door frame, with her arms wrapped around her and thumbs rubbing her upper forearms (press the pain), eyes unerringly in his direction. At least tonight she didn't sound completely cool (glacial bitch) to the Modi.
(ra'gon)
Upon the arrival of the little.....Napalese his face lightens up with glee "Ello" he says with a nod of his head...then his eyes glance from James..to her..to the back of Eliza's head. Then after a moment of pause..and frankly cause he felt kinda odd..he stooped forward towards James in a whisper "Do they know they have holes in their wall?"(james)
yep
he's still sitting there, quietly
(seething)
a flicker of dark gaze up and a nod, up, in hello to Ra'gon
and while he can feel their Alpha moving away
he still hasn't really movedto get up and leave and work off what's veritably boiling would include getting his backpack
which is by the front door
and he's pretty sure Decker is still there
and while pack is pack
he doesn't want to start anything because his temper is flowing (however sedated)
he values pack more than thatfloor by the dining table must be real interesting
cause he's staring at it again
and then there's a half-snorted laugh
Only because you'd let me to make me feel better? the words are caustic and hard. as. steel No.
immediately he regrets saying it
sometimes you can't even control your mental tongueand with a sigh he's up
moving across the living room
he's not going to add to the raised tempers that have been in the house(mae)
Mae returns (belatedly) to the kitchen with a big box of crayons and deposits them on the table in front of Carmen with a stack of blank paper accompanying."Will that do ya, lass?"
Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 17, 2002.12.17.02. - pack. food. oj. joint. s'all good [rune-decker][con't from previous scene, north jersey, condo]
(rune)
"It's in my pocket, Decker." Rune replies, as she swings out of the car. Booted feet, the pavement, the usual clatter. The door not quite slammed closed behind her."Don't worry." An amused half-grin as she produces the disk and his knife from her pocket. Were she any other woman, the items would be produced from a purse, but no matter how girly she is, purses have always seemed a little impractical to the Glass Walker Ahroun. Thus: pockets in every coat. Big ones. "I've got your back."
(james)
he's been sitting there for half the day
when he got home (.... home) they were out
so he claimed a spot infront of the plasma
doing considerably better at the game
believe it or not he may have the PSII friggen figured out
or mabe there's something that fuels the determinationafter the last couple of nights with the Howl
he wasn't feeling like running out and whomping on something
but the aggression is there
(still there, floating about under his skin, building up, ready for that tidal wave)
nicely tempered by hanging around with those that actually
have
a sense of humorso rare in his own pack
he had followed her suggestion of finding the grenade launcher
and it worked wonders for his game
this is only red screen of death number four
he keeps his tradition of toasting it with a beer
hands flexing around the controller to work out the kinks
taking a short break while he's not supposed to disturb the disc upon reload... or something like that
(decker)
A grunt as she produces the knife and, more importantly, the little wooden disc. Damn thing took hours to whittle down to its current size and shape, and would take hours and hours more before it was done. And let's not forget the necessity of actually tracking down a spirit 'n shit. Should just have Livingston do it for him, except this was something Decker wanted to do himself."Good to know," muttered, as he slides the knife away and closes the half-dollar-sized wood disc into his palm.
(rune)
The car alarm beepbeeps self-importantly as they walk away. Then beepbeeps again, just as they gain the highest step, just to let them know its on and still working. It's a high-tech alarm system. It'd probably make latté, if you could figure out the buttons.Rune rolls her eyes as she slides her key into the lock, and snorts softly as the door swings open ( - honey, we're hoooooooooo-ooooooooome. - ). The plush carpet muffles the retort of her booted feet, but it's still there, muted and softened as she stalks through the entrance hall and into the living room.
"Figured you already knew it." she tosses over her shoulder, pausing behind the couch - close, but not too close. Decker was there, after all. - to watch James at play. "You doing any better?"
(james)
there's a bag of chinese on the table
he hadn't made it to putting everything in the fridge yet
besides, he was still steadily working his way through the little white boxes
his chopsticks poking out of the almost gone chow mein that began it all
the beer settles down with a thunk on the laquered table
his grip on the controller traded to clean up those last few bites of noodles...still.... loading....
he knew they were coming, and dark eyes swing up as the door opens
grinning around the chopsticks in greeting
(ticking timebomb, motherfucker)
the tv isn't quite as loud as Rune normally has it
in fact, with only two electrical devices on and as low as the volume is
it's obvious tothe power company and neighbors that she. wasn't. home.
nodding through the swallow"Yeh. I can last more than five minutes."
(decker)
"Oh yeah?" smirks Decker, a sliver of challenge there. "Try me."Oh. This'll be good. Two technohopeless Ahroun punching buttons. He sets the disc on the breakfast bar, as close to the wall as possible (no, this ain't no miniature-sized coaster) and then comes across to vault over the back of the sofa. Lands next to James with a whooshthump of cushions compressing, grabs up one of the controllers while the loading bar hits 90%, 95%, 98%.
"Hell're we playin' again?"
(rune)
"Good." The faintest suggestion of a smile. "You'll be ready for the pack tournament in no time."She hasn't taken off her coat. She hasn't tossed her keys on the counter. She hasn't kicked off her boots. She doesn't even head to the fridge for a beer. Instead, she pulls her cellphone from her left pocket, punches in the code for her voicemail. You have one message. Listens to the message, and feels her mouth tighten into a lowering frown.
"I gotta go. Got some things to do." Decker's not looking, - she checks, a surreptitious sidelong glance tossed in his general direction - and so she settles her hands on James' dreadlocks, twsting through the rough, thick vines of hair briefly by way of greeting and farewell. And then: she lets go, steps back, steps away. "Might be back tonight, but don't wait up."
Don't wait up. " - you boys be nice - " She's already out the door.
(james)
a brow lifts
he didn't say how much more than five minutes
and it's notmuch
this is only the second time he's played it
the first time it took him half the morning to figure out how to get it all loaded and on
much less playing
the resultant WHUMPH of Decker's weight on the couch helping him move over a bit
there's room enough for twoas Decker's watching the loading screen
that grin grows at the tangle of fingers in his hair
tilting up to flash that grin at her"Bye Rune."
not getting up
not walking her out
not even grabbing her for hello/farewell tonsil hockey
see? he can behave"I call it red screen of death, think y'all called it CounterStrike"
y'all?
(oh, James.)(decker)
"Later Rune," muttered, barely diverting an ounce of attention away from the screen, where the crackling pseudo-radiocom voice is giving him his mission objectives. That's all right. One ounce is enough for his health to make a staggering nosedive to 46%.Punching buttons? Make that mashing buttons. Rune would be having a hard time controlling her laughter if she were here.
Decker might affect laziness in his broad sprawl on the couch in contrast to James' avid pleasedon'tlemmerunintothatWALLagain-ness, his eyes are glued to the screen. There's a borderline panic in the way his righthand fingers (at last he's learned not to use his thumb on the trigger button, because thumbs just don't click fast enough) pump the X and the O on the controlpad. Though not as...vocal as Rune, he's sure as hell not as good either. Around the corner his guy strafes, guns blazing to killthatfucker--wait. No. That's a pillar, Decker. Shit. Red on his screen, again and again - is someone shooting him?
Pivot, strafe blindly to the right (get behind cover!), swing left, swing right, who the fuck-hell's shootin' at me...!?
(james)
he? has learned that wall is a good thing
he just hasn't exactly accomplished the finesse of brakes
getting there, though
slowly but surely
the resultant OOF wasn't quite as loud, it seems
and the wall keeps the initial bursts of gunfire off of him
dive behind the square splotchy thing over there
sneeeeak up around the stack of things over... here
duck .... DUCK!
that's not your screen... that's the Modi's
DUCK JAMES
(oh yea, thatbutton)yes... loooove your character
don't kiiiiil yo...James.
Don't. Kill. The. Character.James!
apparently the distraction of the resultant split screen was a little too much
and his side suddenly becomes this festive shade of
.red.(decker)
So that's what it feels like to win for once. There was a deep, deep, deep deep deep satisfaction in watching poor James' screen go red. But he ain't gonna gloat over beating a Cliath.He ain't gonna gloat. He ain't gloating.
He ain't....oh yeah he's gloating. Smirking with both sides of the mouth for once. Practically a Cheshire cat expression for the Modi, here. Tossing the controller down (hell no, he ain't pushin' lady luck tonight), he settles back in the seat. Grunts, "Try usin' yer fingers 'stead o' yer thumb." Then, as consolation, the Modi claps James on the shoulder and uses the Bone Gnawer as a support as he cliiimbs out of the big deep leather sofa, back to his feet. "Luc wastes me all the time. Fuckin' appallin'. Wann'an OJ?"
(james)
his grin?
is far more natural
the wide, easy grin they all know and love
(amazing what hanging around with the Howl did for him)
actually laughing to see that cheshire smile on the Modiyes
this would be one of the rare times he actually remembers the Get is younger than he
by Gaia, actually looking like he's enjoying himself
far be it from the Gnawer to disrupt this
muscle through his back shifting weight in brace
helping the climb out of the quicksand pillows"Yeh, would be great. And you'll note I haven't made a point to play infront of him, yet. I'll play against him when I actually have a chance."
his controller is set down with a little more ceremony
reaching to dig through the big bag of little boxes
finding something else to munch on(decker)
Sloshing OJ into two glasses set side-by-side, rowdy trendy bartender-style, Decker snorts and shoots a wry glance over the bartop. "Yeah that'll be never. Kid even kicks Rune's ass. Swear his daddy musta been a playstation, get 'im all genenically programmed."Genenically? That didn't sound right. Capping the OJ jug again, he swings it back into the fridge and brings the glasses back to the TV in time to see James hit the Red Screen of Death again.
"Hate it when those shits sneak up on ya like that," he sympathizes.
(james)
"You'd think I'd catch on, too"okay, red screens: win, James:lose
time to put it down for good
switching controller for glass of juice
plucking a box from the bag
sliding the bag on the table back to where the Modi was sittingthen he folds
hand sliding beneath the lowest edge of the couch
and out it comes complete with lighter and joint accessorysparked
lit
passed(okay, so he's a goddamned domestic... here and waiting with dinner and joint)
(decker)
Yeah, James keeps that up and Decker won't even need Imogen anymore. Not like the woman had a single shred of domesticity, anyway. Only offered drinks because she was Fianna, and alcohol ran in their veins instead of blood.A grunt of thanks as he takes the joint, takes a hit. Blew off some good rage coupla days ago (though it kept fuckin' building again), so he isn't nearly as cranky as he could be this close to the full. 'Course, he had all sorts of other problems now.
Fuck it. Neither here nor there. Think 'bout that later.
Pack. Food. OJ. Joint. 'Sall good."Oh," as this occurs to him, "that Fianna Noah ain't welcome on pack land no more."
(james)
there's an edge to his smile though
even with the easy grin
that hasn't gone away
he hasn't blown off the Rage
but it's been mellowed out by a few good days
(ticking timebomb, baby, just gimme a light)he takes the joint instead
braced in teeth for the hissing inhale
hands busy opening the little white box of chinese goodness
then it's a smooth switch to pass back"That Fianna Noah?"
on plumed exhale of smoke
yeh, Decker, fill me in
he may have picked up partial thoughts and feelings while he was with the Howl
but he's pretty clueless on the entire situation(decker)
A grunt, mood souring just like that. Maybe it was the memory of holdin back when he woulda liked to splatter that redgold ass all over the nearest wall. Maybe it's just the resonance between packmates: your rage feeds mine feeds yours.Likely it's both.
"Fianna Full-Moon. Uh." Decker's no good at descriptions. "You'll know 'im when ya see 'im. Real big guy, like half a foot taller 'n me. Blue eyes blondish hair. Gonna be wearin the dishonor glyph on his fuckin head fer a coupla days too."
Joint passes back. He takes it, sucks, holds.
...and exhales. With it, words smoke-tautened and anger-flattened, "Yanked Imogen 'round some, almost raged on her. So," another hit to precede the logical conclusion, though he lets this one out a beat later, "he ain't welcome no more."
(james)
he listens in thoughtful chew
until that last parta grunt, mood souring just like that
a few words, and lightning cracks
what's so mellow quickly coils
the tension running beneath tanned skin all but physically visable
while chopsticks move in the food, they don't pluck any out"Got it."
taught, grunted
shoulders roll out that sudden steel band that stiffens them
it's understandable why the Modi wasn't happy with it
Imogen's his mate
strange the mellow Gnawer would get up in arms about it
Imogen's his friend(decker)
A last thoughtful hit, and then he flexes forward to pass the joint back to James at the other end of the sofa. OJ swishes around in his glass, leaving a fading pale-yellow residue, and then he lifts it for a gulp or five. Leans forward again. Sets it down between his feet braced up against the coffee table, and snags up a box of food on the way back."Letcha in on a secret."
Whatever got the mellow Gnawer up in arms, Decker probably likes it. On the plasma TV, the please insert a disc blue screen glares blankly, and he watches this for a while before pawing a hand back over his head to curve around the back of his neck, acting as a rest against which he can lean his skull.
"Kinda hopin' he shows up again." Glance over. Thunder to lightning, and a jagged flash of something that was either smirk or sneer or snarl. "Know what I mean?"
(james)
he literally
shakes. it. off.
dreads swinging back over his shoulders
muscular arm stretching to pluck the joint from packmate's fingers
and there's a smile on his face
it's different than any they had seen beforeit's been a week of that
Rune and Decker had seen him genuinely happy with Lila
and now? it's twisted into a hardened edge
something darker, something that mirrors the swollen moon above
there's a vindictive streak a mile wide in the Gnawer
and more patience than is good for a Saint to back it
the Me, too surely doesn't have to be spoken aloudthat's when he rises
slowly
the long feline stretch doing what it can to smooth the hackles down
he knows Decker took care of it, so that's good enough for now
you can bet he'll be there for Round Two
(there is always a Round Two)
leg lifting to simply step over the table"Name one."
head tilting sideways, dreads swinging to peruse the DVDs
he hasn't seen most of them, so it wouldn't matter what the Modi chose
he hasn't figured out the player, persay
but he did figure out how to get the PSII to play the movies
even if it was by pure mishap[fade to black]
Posted by james at 12:00 AM.12.17.02. - beemers, hotdogs, and lipstick [rune-decker-dire-carmen][north jersey]
[james isn't in this one, was lurking and hoping to join in but never quite got into it, but it leads into the next one, so hell, posting it - dire and carmen are just too cute]
(rune)
Why Decker decided to come with her when Rune went off to get her fucking. hood. fucking. replaced. (oddly enough, she's not as bitter about that as she would normally be. She hasn't said a word to him about it. She hasn't said a word to him for two days. She hasn't been around to say a word to him. From the Barrens at eight in the fucking morning north and north and north until she found her dealer and dragged him the hell out of bed and bought what she needed, bought what she wanted, and on: one day, one night of debauchery. She came dragging home the next morning, and fell asleep on the couch. The previous twenty-four hours were a fucking blur.Lost time, baby. Lost fucking time.)
But there he is. Sitting on plush pleather chair next to her in the waiting room of the BMW dealership, looking completely out of place. The be-suited salesman and pretty little cashier have all found their own reasons to go elsewhere, while the two Garou wait ( " - tomorrow, no problem." The manager said. "Today." she replied, with a flat little smirk. He swallowed. Hard. "Today it is.").
Decker? Whittles. Why the hell these two are here together is impossible to tell. Maybe they think he's her boytoy. No way could he afford a truck like that. Must have a big - well, the salesmen don't say it. At least not in front of the dangerous pair. So, Decker whittles. Rune is in the process of consuming one of the complimentary gourmet hotdogs, the first solid food she's had in a few days.
She's fucking ravenous, but she's holding it together. It's a hotdog, afterall, with all the fixings, and she's not about to let it mar her make-up, or - god forbid - stain her clothes.
(decker)
Decker's been quiet, himself. You'd think the Modi'd be strutting after laying down a smackaround, but Decker doesn't strut.No, he slouches. And he's slouched down right down, so far down that his abdomen and hips (and all that extra baggy fabric stretched between his thighs, what with those jeans sagged down so far that the thigh pockets were in the vicinity of his knees) make a flat plane, and his head is sunken into the center of the plush leather chair's back.
And, yeah, whittling. With his switchblade. Like owner like blade: both closecut, honed to deadly sharpness, devoid of the extraneous.
Wood chips fall and curl on his abdomen as he turns the little irregular bit of wood - a section of a branch nearly four inches across and two deep that he was gradually cutting into a bas-relief little disc, almost perfectly round, and the size of a half-dollar. What he's carving onto the face isn't clear yet. His eyes are lazy on the little disc, but his hands are deft.
This is probably the only reason he hasn't started bitching about how long this is taking. Sniffing hot dog in the air, he stops briefly and glances at her. "Gonna git me one?"
(rune)
Rune's long fingers are splayed wide, the tips delicately pressing into the soft hot dog bun. Red nails break the toasted surface, exposing the soft white beneath.One dark brow rises, delicate and wreathingly amused. The smirk on her mouth deepens, lengthens, and she just stares at him for a long moment.
"I would," she says at last, deliberately biting off another mouthful with a clean, sharp snap of white teeth flashing behind red lips. She doesn't bother to chew the bite. She swallows it fucking whole. After a moment, "...but I'm not your fucking mother. Besides, they're rather phallic, don't you think? Wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea 'bout you."
Yeah. That's a grin. That's almost a grin, that smirk on her face. It's the first real expression that has broken through her mask in more than forty-eight hours, and it's a relief to see it.
(decker)
He looks at her for a minute, and then mutters, snaps the blade back into the handle and sets knife and disc of wood into her lap. "Hold these fer a min."Getting up, he helps himself to a hot dog. With onions, relish, ketchup and three kinds of mustard. Hm, that cheese topping looked good, too.
While Rune's swallowing down her bare weiner (and she's talking about phallic?), Decker comes back with a loaded dog. Sinks down with a satisfied grunt: starts eating. "Beemer people always treat their customers this good, 'r are you preferred?"
(rune)
Rune glances down at the knife and the disc in her lap. Her eyes rise to follow the Modi's path through the dealership waiting room. Hot dog. Onions. Relish. Ketchup. Three kinds of mustard. Oozing cheese."You forgot the kitchen sink," she remarks dryly, mouth twisting upward at the corner. "Bet that would taste good. Mmmm. Crunching metal. Faucets. Drains. Deeeelish." - and here she licks. her. lips. (yeah, she's talking about phallic) before flashing him an amused look - "Maybe you should ask after that?"
The faintest of shrugs, a slow roll of her shoulders, mirroring the slow roll of her eyes. "They always treat folks this good, but I'm preferred. Definitely."
(decker)
Decker shoots her a dark glance. "Don't like metal much," he says, right before stuffing his face. Cheese, mustard and ketchup slides off the dog onto his fingers, and then drips toward his pants until he catches it barely-in-time with the other hand.Pretty new pants, these. Startin' to look pretty old already, but he bought 'em with the money from the squooshed Ford. Sucking ketchupy cheese off his fingers, the Modi glances out at the Jetta pulling up. Damn. Still in one piece. Dire must be getting good.
Doesn't change that he still isn't supposed to be here on Eagle turf...
"Here comes Dire," mutters Decker.
(rune)
The Glass Walker gives a sharp glance up, up and around, around and up and so on. Fortunately, her head remains firmly attached to her neck, so she doesn't quite look like Rosemary's baby. Dark strands of fine black hair swing around her arrogant features, and then settle across her pale cheek like some shadow overlying the disc of the moon.And the moon above - unseen yet, hidden still, though night is beginning to fall - is a gibbous moon, waxing toward full, a pregnant stain across the inner sky of their minds.
"When the hell did he become a preferred customer?" Low, strained, her voice, but still threaded with amusement. Humor - even dry, bitter, edged humor, sharp as a blade - is a defense against rage. The rest of her hotdog goes down the hatch. Yum. There. Delicious.
...not.
(Dire)
*He parks and powers down the Jetta. Steps out and locks the door. THe tinted windows saves anyone noticing the sleeping cub in the back. He casually swings bubba aournd as he turns in a slow circle. The rite lead him to this general area but not much more.
One foot goes up to the hood and he hops up onto the roof of the Jetta and looks up and down the street. Useing the hook side of the crow bar he iches his head. Sniffs a few times and slooooowly turns to look behind him. He sees Decker and Rune though the window and smiles. Starts walking that way. Falls off the jetta roof to SLAM into the concreet and rolls onto his back with a groan. Standing he coffs a few times. Snatches up bubba and heads intothe dealer ship. Only after he's though the door does he notice cars are inside. He pauses and looks around. Kinda lost in the surrealty of the first time being in a car show room.*(decker)
A shrug. Still had half a dog left himself, Decker, and he was gonna take his time finishing it. Don't disturb the feeding beast. Even as Rune grows alert as a gazelle gone carnivorous, Decker slouches deeper into the oh so comfortable chair. Eats.These dogs are really fuckin' good. Gonna get himself another. With chili this time, as well as everything else. And maybe the kitchen sink too. A glance up as Dire comes in (the dealer-on-duty staring incredulous at him - is this guy for real?).
"Think he's gonna make you an unpreferred customer soon."
(dire)
*He sniffs the air smelling food and blinks owlishly as the Dealer approaches him.*"Good afternoon... Sir, where you thinking of perhaps a BMW for A Christmas present?"
* The man is all smiles. You honestly try and placate the man with the long iron crowbar that just walked into your dealership. AIn't no tellin' what he had in mind.Dire for his part looks at the man. Noone had asked him if he would like a BMW for christmas. He wasn't quite sure what a BMW was but if it's anything like a KMART he knows he doesn't want one. He slowly shakes his head no. If the Dealer had the power to inflict something called a BMW that might be like a Kmart on him he wanted no part of that what so ever.* I.... was just wanting to speak to them..... no BMWs please. * He seems rather alarmed by the prospect.
The Dealer nods and cautiously backs away. Dire blinks at him and sniffs again. Smells like hot dogs. Ahh more of that later. He heads for Decker and Rune and nods to them. Waiting to be acknledged before speaking*(rune)
"No fucking kidding," Rune murmurs, rising slowly in the waiting area and pushing a hand back through her shifting black hair. It falls through her fingers, spills across her cheek. The gesture does nothing to fix the falling strands, for they fall back into place. Nevertheless, she repeats it.Twice: a sure sign of tension.
"Christ." Dark eyes flicker over Dire, watching as he wanders through the showroom to the glassed-in waiting area, then sliiiiiiide on back to the customer service attendant sitting at the desk in the corner of the room. "S'my crazy third-cousin out there. Just got outta the asylum. Mind giving me a little privacy here? Just knock on the glass when my car's ready. Y'all have my information on file, so you can send me the fucking bill. Don't bother with the insurance company, okay? And make sure no one else comes in here while we're talking, I'll make sure he doesn't ever come back."
The red mouth sketches a faint frown. Rune waits until the woman has risen from her desk and skeddadled out the glass door before opening it herself and calling out - "yo! over here!" - and gesturing Dire in her direction.
The dealership staff will have plenty to talk about, come morning. But it might not be that unusual. You know how crazy rich folk are.
(dire)
*He smiles and nods entering and looking between them with raised brows. The get symbol above his left brow, dark on the pale skin*(decker)
Decker finally finishes with his hot dog and sucks his fingers clean. Then he wipes them on his pants and gets up to stand with his packmate. Lets her talk first, though.(rune)
Rune allows the door to fall closed. Woosh, the lovely sound of close-to-airlock. Nice mark-up on Beemers, so the dealership can afford a little luxury.Rune straightens as Decker comes to flank her. He's taller, but slouches, and thus the pair are about the same height. Not particularly imposing, perhaps. Unless you're a woman with a razor-sharp smirk and the full moon behind your dark gaze. Unless a bullish young Modi with hurricane eyes. Dire is Decker's tribemate, but Rune is Decker's beta. She speaks first.
"Some reason you're here, Dire?" The Glass Walker's voice is controlled and calm, pitched low. "Last I remember, you weren't allowed onto pack territory. Now you're barging into a place where I'm trying to conduct business, toting a big-ass crowbar around. And I'm hoping there's a fucking good explanation for why."
(dire)
*He nods* Goblin queen ate Babe.... Decker was there. He saw it. * He brings the iron black crowbar up and reverantly strokes it* This is babes big brother. Bubba. * he smiles*I came for two reasons...... I need a pack. I'd like to join yours. I'm a Skald and I fight good. I know my duties and I think I could help.
And I came to ask if anyone knew why there were h9oles in Ms Eliza's place. Quite baffeling.
(decker)
Decker keeps his mouth shut on the pack request. That's Erik's call in the end, and Rune's if it ain't Erik's.For the holes, though, a grunt, no trace of smirk. "Settlin' scores."
(decker)
Rune stares.She just... stares.
And you'll forgive her if her mouth opens and closes like a fish. She was going to reply, but she just couldn't find the words. She was going to reply, but she's staring at the crowbar to which she has been introduced. It's the other crowbar's... brother? The smile on her mouth is no longer tense, it's faintly queasy, faintly ill. She's not going to introduce herself back to the crowbar, but for a moment she almost reaches out to shake its hand.
Christ. Stop.
Hands sliiiiiiides through fine strands of dark hair.
"I'll tell my Alpha that you're interested in joining the pack." There, she found her voice at last. As for the holes - she glances at Decker, and doesn't make any further reply.
(dire)
*He nods and smiles* Thank you Rune-rhya. *he bows his head raising it he nods to decker* understood Decker-rhya. * he sniffs the air and looks at the food and licks his lips and looks back to them*I just secured christmas presents for the pup. I'm not sure if you know but there is a place called a "K mart" out there that seems to be an un-repantant pit of hell and damnation. * he shudders* Be careful.
(rune)
"It's a store, Dire." She flashes Decker a look - What the hell does your tribe teach its Metis, anyway? - and then glances back at the Get before her. "Not a pit of hell and damnation. It's a fucking store, and a cheap one at that. You don't need anymore Christmas presents, do you?"She doesn't ask about the pup. She assumes he's talking about Eliza's kids. Or something.
(dire)
*he shakes his head* It's all she asked for. She's a good pup. * he smiles* Thank you though.
Yes it's a store.. a rather hellish one. I could have swore a formoi was going to fight me for the doll.(rune)
"All right then." Rune replies, quietly glancing up as the attendant comes to knock on the glass. The woman doesn't quite look at any of them, but she avoids Dire and Decker the most, rattling Rune's keys gently. The metal scrapes and dances and taps on the glass. "You're still not welcome in our territory, Dire. My Alpha hasn't lifted that ban, and it isn't my place to do so. So since you have your Christmas presents, it's probably time to head back home.Erik'll let you know about the pack thing."
Her arms settle across her abdomen, easily crossed. Her chin rises, and she watches him. "Good night."
(dire)
*He blinks quite perplexed* Ok.... um... would you tell me why I'm not welcome? WHat have I done?(rune)
"You were there, Dire. You heard my Alpha clear as the next person. He said you weren't welcome. You wanna discuss it with him, I'll let him know. He can find you pretty easy." One shoulder rolls vaguely upward, but the even tone does not leave her voice. "He can find pretty much anyone."(decker)
Shit. Keys. They were leaving. Decker heads to grab up another hot dog (ketchup, 3 mustards (deli spicy and regular), onions, relish, cheese and chili) before it was too late. Heading back with the steaming dog, he butts in on the conversation. Like a ram. In mating season."Pissed Erik off. Put yer nose in pack business where it didn't belong." A shrug, as he pushes the end of the dog into his mouth. "The Blood Eagle holds a long grudge. But I'll ask 'im fer ya."
(dire)
*He blinks at Rune.... he knows he's a bit ... troubled at times but he's never met their Alpha. He turns to Decker and nods* You know me Decker. You know I'd stand with you. * He nods to them both* I"ll leave..... I'm sorry.(decker)
Just a nod up.
And a pause."Who's feedin' yer pup these days, Dire?"
(dire)
I am. * he smiles* I found some money in a bag in the car.... some plastic bags of grean herbs... stinks but I was wondering if I could cook with it. WOuld you like to come see? * he jerks a thumb* it's in the car.(decker)
"Bring her a dog." A tilt of his head toward the hot dogs, light catching on the bristly tips of his short-short-shortcropped hair. "Getcherself one too."He's real generous with food that isn't his. Then, a frown. "Herbs?" - blank.
(dire)
*he goes to make them* Thank you. * he nods* Yeah... little plastic bags of stinky grass like stuff. but it's not grass.(rune)
Decker and Dire have their tete-a-tete while Rune swings the door open, steps out into the showroom. She takes the keys from the customer service representative, and glances back at the glassed-in room, then walks over toward the cashier, waiting for her bill. She might as well pay it here. She preferred it that way. Less of a paper trail if things went wrong.(decker)
More blankness. Then: fiat fuckin' lux, baby. Light dawns and Decker lets out a single, short bark of laughter."Oh Jesus Christ Dire...that ain't herbs. That's pot. You smoke it. 'R you kin sell it fer good money. But don't you feed none o' it to that pup, y'hear?"
(dire)
*he blinks at him* I have money there was some in the same bag. You want the pot? * he blinks. he thought a pot was something you cooked macroni in*(rune)
That's about when Rune walks back into the room, keys jangling in her hands. She just signed someone else's name to a credit card receipt. The dealership will get their money. Some big multinational corporation will eat the loss and never notice. It'll disappear into cyberspace.Her eyes flash over Dire. "I'll take the pot. But it's not something you should talk about publicly. I'll give you money for it too."
She stopped by the ATM on the way here. She was going to buy some anyway. Might as well help the freakish, crazy Get Metis out.
Turning so her body blocks the view from the showroom, she pulls out her envelope from the ATM and counts out some money. Hands it to him. "Put that away before someone sees it. Let's get the hell out of here."
(dire)
*he smiles and takes it and nods* it's in the car outside. You can meet the pup too. * He hangs bubba on the crook of his arm and carrying two hot dogs he walks out. Sets them on the top of the Jetta and unlocks the back door. He opens it and gently touches her8 Carmen? Wake up. * he grabs the bag and offers it to Rune*(carmen)
The bundle of clothing and stuff in the back of the jetta stirs. She taked a nap agin! she's too old for naps she IS. she sits up and dark eyes blink and little fist rubs in order to get the sleep from her eyes before a smile slides over her features and she beams at Dire, scootching out and sliding her arms around his neck for a hug "Dere you are!" Only four, she's all dark hair and dark eyes and cute smile complete with dimples.. she looks at Rune and just.. blinks a little and whispers - loudly, because kids her age haven't learned whisper means soft and all - "Whodat?"(rune)
Rune follows, long strides carrying her casually in his wake. When Dire offers her the bag, she snatches it from his grasp and stuffs it into her pocket - hissed " - you know this stuff's illegal, right? - " under her breath.And lo and behold, there's a child in the backseat. Rune blinks hard, shaking her head (flashback? Nah.) before focusing on the child. Some tight approximation of a smile comes to the woman's face - she's never been comfortable around children, but the idea of Dire raising one - dear. god.
"Rune." Flatly stated, flatly spoken, matching the flat graze of her dark eyes.
(dire)
*he watches her snag the gym bag and srugs* So is casually killing people that we know to be evil. We're kinda abive mortal laws. * He hugs carmen and stands with her holding her with one arm and handing her her hotdog. Rune tells Carmen her name and he smiles*(carmen)She tips her head a little, eyes locked on Rune's and that odd little almost smile that isn't quiet but its painted bright red and she smiles prettily "you wears makeup... s'pretty. I likes makeup too, but momma alwas said I gots to wait till I's older. Rune is a funny name. Short too. I'm Carmen Elizabeth Juanita Maria Lucia Santos. I gots lotsa names. Are you a friend of my Dire?" She beams as he hands her a hotdog and takes it carefully, bite taken ant "tank'oo" mumbled through her mouthful.
(rune)
"Yeah," Rune snaps, rolling her eyes. "that's also why we don't do it in broad view of everyone who is mortal, and might try to kick our asses over it."Rune snorts and looks back to the brat, and the odd, flat smile grows wider. Make-up. It's a universal ice-breaker.
"That is a lot of names. I'm an acquaintance of your Dire. Rune's a nickname, but I can't tell you my real name because it's a secret, and I can't let anyone know. I don't think you're too old for make-up. You want my lipstick?"
She'd tried to offer her lipstick to Eliza's daughter the other night, figuring it as a natural bridge, but the child hadn't responded. Now she offers it again, fishing through the contents of her pocket to find the tube and holding it out, open-palmed, to the child.
(dire
*he smiles* Caremen knows about secrets. SHe keeps ours well. * he nods and looks to decker* I checked. She is kin.(decker)
"Oh yeah?" Still eating, Decker. Free food's always good. Chew, swallow. "Ours?"(carmen)
She giggles and her eyes widen a little as she's offered the lipstick and she looks at her Dire "can I?" Before she wipes ketchup off her hand and little fingers pluck the tuve frome Runes hand "oh Thank you! Will you helps me put some on so I's can be pretty too? I likes secrets, and knowssometimes you cants tell them to nobunny, s'why they's secrets. I bets its as pretty as you are though." and she just now notices decker and nose wrinkles a little - she still thinks he's a boogerbreath. but she smiles like all good cubs right before Christmas "hi decker!"(dire
*he nods* Now, anyway.
*He smiles to Carmen* Yes... Rune is special. Even I have to listen to her. What ever she says, we do.(decker)
Grunt. Chew. Swallow, so as not to treat everyone with a view of his food. Not that he really cares, but it's hard to talk with so much food in your mouth, and anyway Decker is the quiet type."Sup, Carmen."
Oh, now he talks to her.(rune)
Rune lifts a dark brow, mouth widening into a faint, smirking grin as the child takes the lipstick from her hand. If a man were to compliment her looks - pretty! - he might earn a swift kick in the balls. The little girl gets one of her rare grins."Sure," holding her hand out and accepting the lipstick back from the girl. She unscrews the cap and applies the lipstick carefully to the child's little bow-mouth. "Now go like this - " - Rune makes a face and blots her lips together - " - and you're good to go."
(dire)
*he watches them and gently strokes Carmens hair* I'm teaching her things all pups should know... Carmen. Tell them some of the stuff I"ve taught you(decker0
A snort from Decker, who's finishing up his second hot dog. Christ. Rune was teaching his four-year-old kin to apply lipstick If this kept up, the girl would be a heartbreaker by the time she hit thirteen.And knowing who - or what - she's related to, that's not necessarily a good thing. "Quit that, Rune," he says quietly. "She's too fuckin' young."
(carmen)
She actually smiles. brightly. at Decker as he calls her by name and then watches rune with the lipstick and holds real still and imitates her face and then smacks her lips together a little to test out the feel of the makeup before declairing. "I's pretty now! tank you, Rune."
It is rather hard to resist that cute factor, isn't it?
She cuddles close to Dire (they are quite the odd pair) and then nods, curls ( recently brushed even!) bouncing. "Dire's a good teacher. I knows dat da snow dats lower den da rest makes trails, and game - dats stuffs we eat - follows dem to water and water runs down hill and if'n you don't wants anmules to smell you you gots to stay down wind so's its pushing your hair backs from your face and not into your face and den dey can'ts smells you... and you can surprise dem and eats em." a decisive nod, before she sticks her tongue out at decker "boogerbreath" before she whispers (again, loudly) to Dire. "I gots ta go potty...dey have one in dere?" A point to the dealership "I can go by myselfed."(dire)
*He smiles at the things she says and blinks and looks around and to the dealership* I'll take you... last time you went running around in the city a goblin queen grabed you.(rune)
Rune flashes Decker a brief glance, then looks back toward Carman, offering her a wink as she deposits the tube of lipstick back in the girl's hand."You're very pretty, and you've learned alot. You keep that head on your shoulders, and you'll be fine." Her gaze lifts to Dire. "My car's ready, so we're heading out now. Meant what I said about our territory, 'til you hear different from Erik, at least."
Keys jangle in her hands as she steps back, heading toward her car. If things went badly in the dealership's bathroom, she didn't want to know about it. She really didn't want to know. And - a glance at Carmen, she talks, likes make-up, but she could still be in diapers, right? - the moment of make-up bonding did not lead to Rune offering a trip to the bathroom with the child.
"Coming, Decker?"
(dire)
*He nods* We'll leave after she uses the bathroom. * he leads her inside and looks around till he sees one of the little signs and walks her too the door and guards it like a secret service man as she goes*(decker)
A roll of his shoulders. "Yeah, why not."He follows Rune out to her car, gets in, doesn't buckle up, leans the seat back a few notches. When they're a distance away, he glances over at the sleek Walker.
"Y'know, you keep that shit up 'n she's gonna be ripe fer matin' by the time she's thirteen."
(rune)
"Maybe she's a fucking Ahroun, and she'll change and claw the balls off the first guy who tries it." Rune replies. The faint grin has long since faded. Decker's presence, or the general state of the world, or her natural self. "Nothing wrong with little girls playing with make-up anyway. I did it all the fucking time."Rune also had orange and pink hair when she was four, but she doesn't mention that.
"Doesn't mean shit. S'not about mating, it's about - " Rune snorts, frustrated, weaving the Beemer through the late evening traffic, heading toward the condo a short distance away. So short, in fact, that the sign is already flashing in her headlights as she continues. " - women don't put on make-up for men. They do it for women. Long as it's warm and wet and basically willing, with boobs somewhere above the waist, you don't tend to notice the rest."
(deker)
"Yeah," smirk, "'n look how you turned out." Real fuckin' comforting, that: a kin just like Rune. Donates her eggs for infallible birth control. That'll go over well...Another snort. "Now that's bullshit 'n you know it is."
(dire)
*He gathers her up when she comes out and exits the dealership. giving the guy the ol hairy eyeball as he does so. Puts her into the Jetta. Buckels her in and gets in himself. Starts the car and pulls into traffic waving his fist at the people around him.
Gaia looks after children, lunitics and Get Metis it seems as he's not been killed in a fireball as of yet*(rune)
"I don't see anyone complaining, Decker. You got a problem with how I fucking turned out?" Rune replies, smirking again.Speedbump. Speedbump. Speed. bump.
(She fucking hates speedbumps.)
Parking lot."It's not bullshit, Decker, and you know that too. The right plumbing in the right place, a couple of places to put your hands," shoulders rise and fall in an amused shrug as she pulls into her parking space. "...that's all y'all need."
Then, quietly. "For the most part, anyway."
(decker)
For the most part, anyway.He could ask if that's how she thinks James is, or how she thinks he is even, but it's too damn melodramatic a topic for him for him to broach. Suddenly remembering, though, he sits up as they slide to a stop. "The fuck didja do with that thing I gave you?"
(rune)
"It's in my pocket, Decker." Rune replies, as she swings out of the car. Booted feet, the pavement, the usual clatter. The door not quite slammed closed behind her."Don't worry." An amused half-grin as she produces the disk and his knife from her pocket. Were she any other woman, the items would be produced from a purse, but no matter how girly she is, purses have always seemed a little impractical to the Glass Walker Ahroun. Thus: pockets in every coat. Big ones. "I've got your back."
Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 15, 2002.12.15.02. - hospitality [jael][pine barrens]
(jael)
It wasn't so bad out with a jacket to fend off the chill. Standing on a ladder outside the small home nestled a short distance within the woods. Mumbling while reaching overhead to fish leaves out of the guttering. "Gah, nasty." Grimacing as several wet leaves tumble down the neck of her jacket.
Holding onto the top of the ladder with one hand while trying to fish the leaves out of her neckline with the other. Leaving dirty wet smears on her neck and chin. "Oh gross." Making a face while flicking a sodden leaf to the ground. Once more reaching overhead to fish around. "Who thought of putting gutters on this thing anyway with all these trees around here?" Muttering to herself while trying to unclog the hole to the downspout.
(james)
the hitch had dropped him several miles back at the crossroads
the now more mended than tattered (thanks to mei) patchwork trench flapping a bit with each step
that long, rolling, ground eating stride that covers a city in a day and takes no effort
seems to work out here, too
hands shove into the pockets
shoulders hunched up under light brown dreadshe may be used to homeless winters one state north
but it is still. damn. cold.
especially out here in the middle of the Pine Sol Estates..... er... Barrenshe hasn't had much luck earning cash up at home
so he's heading down to AC again
it's just that inconvenience of hitch hiking
the ride doesn't always go where you want it
so he's stuck walking until another willing car comes alongat least it seems like it's going to take him past some semblance of civilization
(jael)
Pale hair sticking out from beneath a blue stocking cap. Jeans and jacket visible from behind. A red sweater showing along the waistline each time she reaches overhead. The small house looked to be little more than three small rooms at most from outside. One story and singled in old cedar singles that have faded in places and become moss covered in others.(james)
boots crunch to a stop on the road
head tilting to watch the stretch and dump and curse and.... this isn't going well
a bit of a grin rakes across his features"Need a hand?"
even though his voice is a warm, smooth tenor
and his smile is easy and inviting
oh yea
strange man appearing out of nowhere in middle of woods
this should go over well, Jamey(jael)
Catching her breath on a surprised inhale with the sound of the voice from behind. One hand shooting out to grab the gutter, making it grown when taking her weight as the ladder rocks for a moment with the sudden shift in balance. "Oh crap!" Heart thundering as she very carefully turns her head to see who was back there. "I um, er, stuck, I'm stuck." Afraid to let go of the gutter at this point.(james)
oh shit.
good one James.
nearly take her right off the roof, why don't yait's only a few steps and he's crossing the distance between
one man with ragged dreadlocks
dressed in second hand BDUs, tank boots, and a strangely new sweater
and that patchwork (glyphworked) trenchcoat
definitely a city boy
what he's doing way out here is a mysterybut at least part of it is solved with gloved
(you call those gloves?)
hands grab hold of the ladder and steady it
looking up with a rather sheepish grin and laugh
and something of a glitter in deep umber eyes"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you..... but I got the ladder."
(jael)
Swallowing with a nod while slowly letting go of the gutter. Chin and neck smeared with gunt from the gutter. Reaching down to grab the top of the ladder and slowly climb down. "Thanks, I'm Jael and I thought for sure I was going to end up pulling that gutter off on my way down." Smiling to him once on the ground. A petite 5'2" with pale blonde hair, most of it covered with the stocking hat. Her eyes nearly matching the blue of the hat. Tugging one glove off to offer her hand to him. "That was scary."(james)
"James."at a lanky 6'1 there's quite a difference between them
pale blond hair against light brown dreadlocks
brilliant blue skies against deep umber eyes
she's dressed for the forest - he's definitely not
shall the list continue?
but at least that grin's still there
peeling away his own glove
decisive shake with rough, calloused hand
then his gaze drifts back to the roof"Nah.... you were doing fine 'til I decided to try and turn you into a dangling Christmas decoration."
(levon)
-The old truck made it's way through the winding roads of the village, the cabin of the pick up full, the bed carrying one lone passenger and her dog. Brown eyes narrow and water against the rush of cold air that assaults her face and senses as the truck moves along. It's loud. The damn muffler is tacked up by a wire hanger or two, and black smoke billows out of the make shift tail pipe like a dying dragon breathing out its like carbon monoxide breath.Her hand strokes the mutts dirty coat with gloved hand and the multi-colored knit hap is pulled down to her eyes, covers her ears, and the long tail of the hat hangs to her waist with a ratty little rainbow fuzzy tuft on the end. Levon watches the woods carefully, she and Roscoe know more than anyone what could possibly lurk in the safety of the tree line, and as the truck enters the village her shoulders bunch up and she leans down, giving the older dog with the graying beard a kiss atop his head.-
(jael)
"Oh it's ok, I'm just trying to get a clog out. I can hear water dripping down between the walls in there and that's just going to be a big problem if I don't get it taken care of soon." Smiling and scratching at her neck with one hand. Resisting the urge to shove her hand down the neck of her top to dig the irritating debris from her bra. "You live near here?"Pulling the glove back on and using the back of it to absently rub her nose while looking at James. Second hand clothing she knew well, it's what her father had dealt in back in Indiana. More often than not, giving more to the needy than he sold. Brows furrowing slightly with the rumble of the muffler out there somewhere. It almost sounded like the city for a moment.
(james)
that's when he really looks at her
seeming to notice something for the first time
it brings a little grin
but that just seems to be the way he is
(he can sense that pure blood like she should be able to sense his Rage)
looking back up with a shrug of muscular shoulders"I can try, if you want."
gaze ticktocking down again
(like a flippin' see saw)
and this time his head shakes"Nah... I live up north near Hisperia. Just heading down to AC for a little while."
and absent wave of his hand
it doesn't seem to bother him he's still got nearly half the state to go
and no notable mode of transportation other than those boots(levon)
Sputter..putt putt putt....sputter....POPThe truck jerks a bit as the engine backfires. Roscoe jumps, hunkers down on shaky legs, and Levon....well Levon takes it in stride while stroking the old dogs head. A gloved hand lifts to itch at her cheek, and tears forced by the cold in her face roll down her cheeks and wet the scarf about her neck.
The village is quiet, seemingly, and with a sigh of relief Lee leans down and whispers to her dog as the truck is rolling to a sputtering stop with another loud backfire.
"Here ya go sweetie..." The old man yells as he's opening the driver side door and spitting out his black, disgusting chew.
"Thanks Marty...." Is the reply, and both Lee and the dog hop out of the back of the truck, dog and woman both take inventory of their surroundings for a long moment as the two men in the trucks cabin clamber out.
(jael)
"Well, I um, wouldn't want to bother you with something like this." Shifting from one foot to the other. Able to feel something coming off him and it made her a little fidgity. "I mean, you'd get all gross and maybe fall on your head or something and then there's that problem." Jumping slightly with the sound of the backfire somewhere along there.(james)
there's a bit of a laugh
(and tense, at the backfire)
his head shaking
that hand absently gesturing again"Nah, it wouldn't be a problem.... I've got a longer reach than you anyway."
he's not going to openly say that falling on his head is the least of his worries
there's that easy grin again
he knows what it is she feels
and he's trying to not seem like he's going to remove her head should she move to fast"Brace the ladder for me?"
(jael)
Nodding, wondering what he would do if he did fall and crack his head. Shoving that thought away while grasping the ladder. "Well be careful, those leaves have a mind of their own and I really don't want you to get hurt." Lawsuits and worse flitting through her head.(james)
that would be a funny sight, wouldn't it
See James? You should stick to the city.
The forest kicks your ass.the pack is lain to the side
his coat shrugged off and folded over it
and up the ladder he goes
frowning a bit as he peers at the mess of leaves and.... let's not go here
(since when did you know anything about cleaning out gutters, Jamey-boy?)
but he reaches in to start pulling leaves anyway
hoping for the best"Got any family around here?"
idle conversation
right(Levon)
The sound of the truck backfiring ceases to be, yet the smell of carbon and other nasty smells filter through the cool, pure air of the Village. The coat hanging off the 5'8 young woman is black, a sort of vinyl material with a fake fur trim around her hood. The dog, with smart dark eyes, sits and looks up at Lee almost expectantly (now....what?).
"I don't know Roscoe......I just needed to be out of the city for a little while...you need exercise anyway, you're getting too fat." A smirk touches her lips as she tugs her hood up and leans down a bit to the side and runs her glove over the dog (part ... basset hound? part.....bloodhound? beagle?). Her jeans are a bit dirty and the two old men that exited the cabin of the truck start off towards the nearest bar. Lee ... Lee stands there for a minute longer before she and her friend start walking down what might be considered a street in the rural village.(jael)
Shaking her head, pale hair moving across her shoulders where the stocking hat holds it tight. "No, just moved here a little over a week ago. Still trying to figure out where things are and find a job. Came from Indiana." Finding herself filling in with nervous babble after looking up and just seeing his butt. What a thing to talk to.(james)
at least he's in shape
and wearing a belt
thank Gaia for small favors, hm?"Step back a bit."
and waiting until she does
he shoves the pile of leaves and... muck... off the roof and onto the ground
nodding somewhat satisfactorily to hear some of the soggy meltoff trickling steadily again"Think I got it."
and down the ladder he comes
letting her speak to the easy grin rather than... yea.
wiping filthy hands on his BDUs
being from out of state she can hear the accent he's sure he doesn't have
that New York coloring on certain words"There's a cabin about a mile out, set back from the rest, has some chimes infront of it. You might be able to find some family there."
that's odd, isn't it?
didn't she say she had no one out here?(levon)
There is nothing amazing or beautiful or ...perfectly lovely about Lee. She's of average height, and her body type would be hard to discern from the layers of clothing, and the thick winter coat she wears. Her boots are the only nice thing the odd urchin owns. Her dog, bless his old heart, pulls back his lips and snarls a little at the stranger, he lets out a quit a weird little bark/howl. It's a cross between a basset hound and a blood hound. A sort of Arrrroooooooo rather than your typical bark. Yet, that sound even dies quickly as Simon makes no real move towards Levon ....and truth be told, Roscoe might lose a tooth if he ever tried to bite anyone, he's just that old.
So Lee tugs back her hood, and he can tell then that her hair is long and wavy; dark strands peek out from beneath the multicolored knit cap and she wipes at her runny nose with the back of a gloved hand......and nods. Offers a weak smile, that's nervous maybe, not rude. Never that.(jael)
"Um thanks, but you can wash your hands inside, you don't have to get all dirty cause of me." Watching him wiping his hands on his pants. Unaware her face and neck are smudged with the same gunk. "Um, windchimes and family?" Brows creasing again slightly while stepping back a bit and darting back to the first subject. "I can show you where to wash up and if you'd like, I can repay you with something to eat and drink, maybe?" Cocking her head slightly, not entirely sure how to repay him and sticking to the old ways her father used.(james)
he? is quite aware of her smudges
and that might be partial reason for that grin
but he's polite enough not to say anything"I'd appreciate that."
and there's a nod as he's gathering his pack and coat
one shrugged onto his shoudler
the other laced through the pack's strap
turning to follow her"Well, not immediate family... more cousins."
(jael)
Glancing back at him with a faint little nod while leading the way inside. Almost immediately tugging off her coat and the stocking hat. The room smelling of woodsmoke and pine needles. The heat coming from the cast-iron fireplace insert. "The bathroom is through there. You can set your things down anywhere." Absently smoothing her hair down as it crackles with static electricty, doing a wild little dance of alternating between waving straight up in the air and sticking plastered to her her head the next moment.(james)
after wiping his boots on the matt outside
he chooses a place near the table to lay his things
woodsmoke and pine-sol
he's slowly getting used to the smell of this place
wandering back towards the indicated bathroom to wash upa few minutes later he's strolling back out again
fresh and clean - except for the smears on his pants
and a soaked in spot or two on his shirt
but it doesn't seem to bother him one bitholding out a wet face cloth to her with a litte grin
(jael)
Blinking in surprise with the offered washcloth. Face warming when passing him up to head to the bathroom and look in the mirror. "Gah, you could of said something." Scrubbing at her face and taking a few moments to dig those leaf bits out of her top with a grimace. Scrubbing down the front of her shirt too. "Listen, you got your clothes all dirty, I might have some things you can have. I think they might be a little big on you, but they should be long enough." Calling to him while washing in the other room.(james)
she can hear that warm laughter again"And risk you swiping me for it? I'm not that brave."
there's a tease in his tones, yes
but he's had more experience with firey kinfolk than he has meek ones
so he's not about to take his chances
and what is with people always wanting to clean him up out here?
and curiously, he looks down at his clothes
noticing half the marks for probably the first time
are Bone Gnawers that dirty even when clean??"Nah.... just letting me settle for a bit is enough, Jael."
(jael)
Settle? Wondering if that meant she was suppose to give up her room and bunk on the couch cause he was going to stay for awhile. Coming out of the bathroom a little better for the wear except for her stubborn hair. Fine pale strands doing a wild dance as the weather plays it's own game with it. "Can I offer you something to eat or drink then?" Her father's things would remained packed away till someone who needed them came along.(james)
he's quietly sitting at the table when she comes back out
he figured it was the least imposing place
and while he may be used to walking endless miles in the concrete jungle?
sometimes it's nice just to get off your dogs
and that easy grin turns hopeful"Can I talk you out of some coffee?"
it's. cold. out. there.
(jael)
"Sure." Smiling with a nod before turning to bend and open the cabinet next to the stove. Pulling out an old dented metal perculator. Metal rattling as she disembles it to rinse it out and fill it with water, placing the pot on the stove and turning the gas up high. "Did you need a place to rest for the night?" Trying to find out so she could adjust to that thought. Reaching to another cabinet to get a small can of coffee out and scoup it into the guts of the perculator before placing the long stemmed device inside the pot and replacing the lid. A small glass knob looking bulb on the lid of the pot.(james)
"Nah."what is with all these maternal bodies out in the Barrens?
"I want to make it down to AC so I can make some money before it gets too close to Christmas. People start spending less on starving artists and more on presents the closer it gets. I just need a place to warm up for a few....."
there's a blink
and he looks up"That's not the reason I helped you, though...."
hoping she doesn't think he was just conning her for some coffee
(jael)
Collecting a cup from the cabinet to place before him. Then turning to the fridge to get a half gallon of milk out to set on the table along with a jar of sugar. "Don't have cream, I hope milk's ok." Glancing towards the pot as it pops and rumbles, warming up quickly. Pausing with his tone, nearly flinching. "No, no, I didn't think anything." The words rushing out quickly while taking a step back from the table. "I just needed to know, that's all." Swallowing quickly.
(james)
his head tilts
as she takes that rapid step back
he's sitting there at the table
hands folded quietly
hoping he didn't offend her
and she's the one taking a step back
.....his voice is -very- soft"Why do I scare you?"
(jael)
Relieved that she wouldn't have to make arrangements for him to stay with her. Knowing she'd never sleep with a stranger in the house, it was bad enough adjusting to a new place alone after living in the same place her entire life. Feeling like her heart was beating way too fast and breathing was a little difficult. Giving a quick shake of her head and little lift of her shoulders. "I don't know. It's just...just a feeling." That quick little nervous shrug again. "I can't explain it." Turning towards the stove when the pot starts to rumble and brown liquid starts to come up to splash the inside of the glass bulb on the lid. "It's starting to perculate now. How strong do you like it?" Doing a swift change of subject.(james)
okay, there is that
strange guy sleeping in your house
already he was surprised at being invited in
there's all sorts of horribly wrong and offensive scenarios he could come up with as to why he made her nervous
but it's the feeling on that gets to him"Uh..... doesn't matter, I'm not picky."
maybe it's because he's been around Decker so much
the Modi's Rage so often overshadows his
he hasn't had anyone react to him in a very long time
and it's unsettling, to say the least
the Fenrir may be used to it
the Gnawer isn't
and he turns to look down at hands picking the frays of gloves
his voice never grew any louder"I can't help that." my Rage, your reaction "Sorry."
(jael)
Shaking her head slightly, trying to ease the tension. "Not your fault." Turning back with the pot to fill his cup before replacing the pot on the stove. "Is hot, be careful." Unnecessary warning coming out. "I um, have some bread and lunchmeat if you are hungry. I um, could make you a sandwich?"(james)
she's right
it isn't
but it still deflates him, a little
it's just not something he's used to
and after a moment his head shakes"Coffee's fine, thank you. It's more than I was even expecting."
that grin starting to coax itself back into his expressions again
doing his best to ease the tension, too(jale)
"It's the least I could do." Relaxing her stance a little. Leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms. "So, you said you were going to AC? Um, AC DC?"(james)
there's a blink
(ACD.... oh yeaa)
then his head shakes
finally tempting a sip of that hot coffee"Atlantic City. Sometimes it's easier to make money there than where I live."
(jael)
"So what do you do to make money anyway?" Her stance slowly relaxing. He didn't look like the guy she had met at the diner that had been a gigalo. But you never really knew.(james)
"I'm one of those guys that plays a bucket or barrel or something else on the streetcorner like a drum and hopes you like it enough to toss in a few cents."shoulders lift below dreads in a shrug
"I'm not sure the proper name for it."
(jael)
"Oh ok, a street entertainer. I met one of those a few nights back at the Neward Diner. He was very charming and all." Not mentioning how else the guy made money. Her face warming with that thought. Male prostitutes she'd heard of but never seen.(james)
"A lot better than the peddler or annoyance that I've been called before."there is a charm in his grin
(no, I won't hurt you)
and even though that coffee's hot
and he's pretty sure she's not going to take back what she gave him
he's finishing it like she is
some habits never die
and it's obvious he was raised having to scrap for what he got"Money's good in the summer, but gets slim around the holidays. People are spending it elsewhere."
(jael)
"Yeah well, they tend to do that. And then there's some that wouldn't pee on you if you were on fire and it would save their black souls. But that's mankind for you." Turning to lift the pot and offer him a refill. "More?"(james)
and that would be why we have the Ban of Man
but he doesn't say that out loud
she's family, but not family
so we'll skirt that nugget of topical conversationbut his head shakes
"I should probably get going, I don't know how long it's going to take to get another hitch that'll take me the rest of the way."
(jael)
"There's a bus stop not too far down the road." Offering the little bit of information he probably already knows. "I appreciate your help and it was nice meeting you. I feel like I didn't really pay you back with a cup of coffee."(james)
"There is? Thanks..."a bit of information he didn't know
he also doesn't have enough for bus fare, but he doesn't mention it
sliding his chair back to stand
offering the cup back to her since it would mean passing her to put it in the sink
and he's well aware he makes her uncomfortable
(it's not your fault)
there's that grin again as the trench is shrugged on"You'd be surprised how far hospitality goes, Jael."
(jael)
Shakes her head slightly while accepting the cup. "Still not enough." Turning to replace the cup in the sink. "Um, you be careful out there, ok? If you find yourself needing something, you know where to find me." Echoing the same words she had heard so many times from her father's lips.(james)
he looks like he's about to argue with her
but this is her house, and he doesn't
not like most Garou around, is he
seems he's forgotten he's supposed to be holier than, well, everyone
or he's been beat down so far he knows that isn't true
and a hand sticks out to shake, again"Sounds like a plan. Thanks again, Jael."
he knows his way to the door
(jael)
Reaching out to take his hand and give it a shake. He didn't seem so back after all. "You take care of yourself."Posted by james at 12:00 AM.12.15.02. - let's roll - or, family values [dakota white][pine barrens on the way to ac boardwalk]
(james)
she had told him where the bus stop was
but he didn't have enough money for fare
so he didn't even pause when he walked past it
or the mile or two further on down the highway
and it doesn't seem to bother him he's almost half the state between him and his destinationthat ground covering walk doesn't stop
it's an easy gait, one that tirelessly covers the miles
strolling on by like time's ticking seconds
hands shoved into the pockets of his (newly mended) trench
dreads settled a scarf around his shouldersdark gaze lifted to see what stars he can
thumb going out everytime lights approach from behind
here's hoping someone's in the holiday spirit and will provide a ride(dakota white)
Call of the wind, that need for speed.Out and about scouting for Jimmy, who had (per usual) gotten himself lost again during one of his walk-a-bouts. If the guy could give decent directions then maybe it would be easier to find the little twat. Instead, she was left scouring the way, whipping along the highways and turnpikes. Packleader? Hah. Half the time with her group it was more like Pack Babysitter. But at least it got her out... her kid (shudder to think), Maddie, had a cold and was crying at the drop of a hat. It was enough to have her running for the hills as quickly and as quietly as possible. Sick kids weren't something she was, on a whole, comfortable with. Go figure. So instead of having to deal with it, she'd delegated the task to the band manager who was delegated the task down to the groupie bonegnawer kin. They seemed to know how to do the mommy-thing. She, in turn, had cited pack business and left (although not without being given a list of medicine to pick up while she was at it)...Vrooom...
Straight past Jukebox... 100 meters up the road the bike slid (another 5 meters) to a stop, sideways... turned around... started coming back towards the poor hitching Bonegnawer.
(james)
several cars had passed him by
and oddly? it didn't seem to matter
if he walked all the way to Atlantic City, so be it
he'd just prefer not to
and he knows his pack is busy
so he's not even bothering with the totem phoneit might be because he's thinking of the way the kinfolk reacted to him
he's just not used to that
big scary Bone Gnawer making someone nervous?
it sucked....a dark brow lifts at the bike screaming past
then the brakelight as it flicks on into skidding stop
okay, a bike is something he's rarely ridden
but a ride's a ride
and his head tilts a little
something vaguely familiar about that bike(dakota)
The bike hoons back, sliding siedways on the mud beside the road and kicking up small stones as it comes within a hairsbreath of slamming straight into the hitchhiking Gnawer. The rider was long, lean, and dressed from top to toy in black leathers (gloves included) that matched the black helmet (mirrored visor).Engine idly, sleek (black & silver) racing bike on a lean with one leg stuck out to keep balance of the metallic weight, the rider unclips the helmet and ducks their head, pulling it off with one smooth motion.
White (like as in real white) hair is exposed, a gloved hand running through the multilayered hairstyle and a albino face lifting to reward the Gnawer with a shit eating grin. Easy going, smoooooth. Laugh or you'll miss it. With the helmet gripped in one hand, the small Coyote glyph adorning it on the back is visible.
"Lookin' fer a lift, sugar-pie?"
Almost metallic seeming eyes, as reflective as any cats in the dark when a light shone in their direction, danced with some inner amusement. Singing along with Coyote, maybe?
(james)
the closer the biker gets
the more clues that begin to pluck themselves from his mind
there are some people you just don't forget
and by the time the helmet is lifting off
he's wearing that shit eating grin, too"Dakota, baby!"
that's how she introduced herself
and he's not about to argue - no ma'am
genuinely pleased to see her out on this long, lonely road"Didn't think y'all'd still be in Jersey."
y'all'd?
definitely. too. much. time. around. the. Get.
Southern slang with the Albany clip
that should sound interesting, Jamey-boy"But I'd be looking for a lift, yes. Trying to work my way down to AC. Spare a few miles?"
(dakota)
"Gigs're still pourin' in, ya know. Can't pass up cash on the side, see?"She reclines back on the bike, still astride, and the smile doesn't wash away, but more likely gets wider. She got along well with Gnawers: hell, she lives with enough of them - Garou (2) and Kin (5) alike. She tilts her head backwards, indicating the back of the bike.
"Hope ya'll have got more guts than my boys: they won't ride with no more."
The fact that Dakota treated speed limits as suggestions rather than laws was one of the reasons. The fact that she could also come off a bike in a horrific high speed accident, shake it off and walk away was another. They couldn't. The bonus of being born to two of Garou, you'd guess. See, being a Metis has some benefits.
"If yer lookin' fer cash, Coyote can hook ya up with some work."
Strong backs were always needed to do lifting and carting around, after all. That was what Jake, the pack Ahroun, was used for more often than not. Gettin' in good with the locals was also a wise decisions, since the Howl had been hanging out around North Jersey which was the Eagle packs stomping grounds, so to speak. In the end it came down to: you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours...
(james)
he? could come off the bike in certain ways he's not going to walk away from
he? also has far more guts than her boys, apparently
and his chin lifts, with a grin
accepting the challenge"Then make room."
waving her forward as if those simple gestures were enough to direct her movement
unbuckling the helmet strapped behind her on the bike
he already figures they're going to be disregarding the speed limit laws
while they're at it, he'll take the extra measure to protect his skull
however thick Momma Ruggs always said it was"Wouldn't mind that, either, if it keeps me closer to home."
home
pack
(Rune)
he'd rather not traipse half the state
but he can make a killing on the Boardwalk
and while his packmates oft don't need the help procuring food
or anything else money can buy
he won't simply receive and not give
even Bone Gnawers can pull their weight
(others need, he provides, that's the Hood way)(dakota)
She slid forward, quite used to having someone riding pillian, even if she had a habit of conveniently forgetting they were there during the passage of the ride.Considering the amout of times that her 'boys' had come off the bike due to her pulling stupid stunts while they were pillian, probably explained why they liked to keep their feet on the road. Sides, Jimmy was the sort that liked to walk everywhere: getting lost in the process, but at least he did it on his own two feet. Santo, on the other hand, just wanted to stay in one piece.
"Grab a drink 'fore ya start doin' whatever it is ya gonna be doin'?"
She runs a leather gloved hand through her hair again, pulling it back out of her face before she slides on the helmet again, obscuring all that white-white flesh and hair as well as obscuring those reflective eyes (god damn the light!).
(james)
before the helmet is pulled on
the dark gray bandana is pulled from a pocket
roping those dreads back into some semblance of order
squishing their natural poof to fit beneath the helmet
a wry grin slashing over his features at the offer"You're driving, Dakota-baby, I think I'm at your mercy of where we end up."
boy that had a lot of meanings behind it
not quite sure you meant some of them, Jamey-boy
but it's all in stride
reaching up to tighen the pack's straps around his shoulders
weight shifting to sliiiiiiiide onto the back of the bike
long tails of his trench half-folded and sat on to keep them out of the spokes
strong arms wind around her waisthe's not letting go
cause if he does?
he has a feeling he'll be off the bike(dakota)
A coyote howl of laughter as she revs the engine and the bike spurs forward like a horse smacked with a riding crop... dirt, mud and gravel flies from the tires as the bike proceeds to tear up the asphalt and head at break neck speeds towards Atlantic City.She was a good driver (so to speak) although her penchant for taking corners (while somone was pillian) at angled leans that almost defied gravity meant that his stomach would be doing twists and turns, leaps and falls, that wouldn't sit well with most. She narrowly missed being clipped on several occasions as she just made it through red lights, hightailing it with a scream of tires out of the way just in time.
Difference at the moment was that unlike when she was riding with pack - or tag-teaming a bizarre combo (tag your it!) with the pack Ragabash who had a Ninja that she hauled everywhere with her (like Dakota kept her baby close)... they couldn't really communicate the same. Their respective 'TotemPhones' were hardwired in opposite ways. Different packs, different totems, all that sort of thing.
She lifts a hand during the hectic ride and gestures with two fingers towards a pool hall along the boardwalk where she was attempting to find some place to park. Eventually she nudges several other bikes along and cuts the engine, glancing back over her shoulder at the Gnawer passenger, her voice muffled by the helmet.
"My shout this time."
(james)
he's used to being passenger with Rune
he's used to being at the whim of a ruthless Road Warrior behind the wheel
but that's inside a plush Beemer
but that's with seatbelts
but that's a car she doesn't dare get a scratch on
this?is a bit different
she better be glad she's Garou cause he holds on tight
it takes him a few (dozen) miles to get the hang of it
but eventually the grip relaxes
somewhat
and his stomach may be relatively in the right place by the time she parksho. lee. chit.
that's a rush.when the bike parks, he doesn't quite hop off immediately
forcibly untwining his fingers
taking his dear sweet time to unbuckle the helmet
he's probably a -little- paler than usual
but his grin is still game"Pax next time."
legs should be in working order about now
that's when he slides (sliiiiiides) off
helmet still in one hand
Jansport pack straps loosened back to a comfortable hug of muscular shoulders(dakota)
After his excruciatingly slow time taken to unclench, unbuckle (helmet) and slide she practically seems to throw herself from the bike, kicking a long leg over the back of the bike and pulling her helmet off, bearing that typical shit-eating grin. Watch yourself around the Coyote Children... you never know when a whim might strike them...She reaches into an inner pocket of her leather trench and retracts a pair of mirrored sunnies (no need to scare the locals) which she slides on, only to have a frown line knit her brows together and her lip curl back into a pseudo-snarl.
"Dire?"
That was out of the blue and it sounded like she was asking someone a question, just forgot not to say it outloud. Hell, Jimmy's affliction must be catching... dammit. A shake her of her head, a leather gloved hand through her head and a flick her shoulder reminiscient of a dog shaking itself to get rid of that icky feeling of being soaked to the bone.
She peels the gloves off(revealing bitch white skin and black polished nails) and shoves them into her pocket, giving James a bow from the waist (a hand flowing out towards the Pool Hall and the other at her waist) as if they were at a courtly bow. As soon as he passed her she also gives him a light smack on the ass... as is ever her way. No (most) ass around her doesn't go unmolested ...
(james)
as the bandana is peeled off and dreads shaken free to their normal disarray
a brow lifts at the sudden word escaping her mouth
oh. joy.
he seems to wear the similar look of distaste
but it's apparently forgotten at her bow
tank boot heels clicking together and his head trips and dops
.... make that drops and tipsdon't mind if I do
starling just slightly at the smack
but he doesn't seem offended at all
half tossing a grin back over his shoulder
pausing only when he's holding the pool hall's door open"Gee, seems we have a mutual friend."
that last part crawling through a sharp smile
(dakota)
"That is a Splatter-Pup that should be fuckin' put down in my estimation. Poc'lypse or not."She snorts disdainfully cause she had a bone to pick with that boy: rip out my piercing would ya, ya little snotmongrel. Dire had not won friends and influences people that night, upping and doing what he did - to an unknown and a higher rank, no less. Probably was just as well Widget hadn't been around: that could have been messy.
She sauntered (swaggers/sashays) in the pool hall, tipping him a wink and heading (unsurprisingly) straight for the bar. Blood Alcohol Level? Heh. They wish.
She taps the side of her head, a silent indication that might give the Gnawer an indication of what or why she might have spat out the name without provocation.
"He's been a bad, bad boy, a lil' birdie told me."
(james)
he can't help that grin
he simply can't"I knew I liked you, Dakota-baby."
he's not surprised at the mode of communication between them
more often than not there's that slim line between out loud and in loud speakage between his pack
and while she saunt-swag-shayed through the burgeoning crowd of people
he follows right behind
they part for her style
they part for his Rage
(full moon's a comin' baby)but it's not until he slides onto the barstool next to her
(I'm sorry, that was your stool? Move)
that words pass pass his lips again"So what'd he do this time?"
has the Gnawer a past with the Skald?
you betcha.(dakota)
"Me 'n' the Howls: well, we dislike the fucker on principle. Little Splatter-Pup went and ripped out one o' my peircings as a 'How ya Doing?' ... then proceeded to tell me I had no fuckin' right to snot him for it."A deep, bone crackling roll of her shoulders as she hunkers forward on the bar (no few stares in her direction: she looked weird dammit) with her arms crossed over the top and motions for two beers. She then swivels on the stool, head dropping into the palm of one upturned hand. A very sinister smile.
"Songs got made 'bout that but me and Insidious ain't gotten round to spreadin' it the right ears, if ya get my drift."
A pause as she slaps down a note on the bar and slides it over the tender before picking up her beer and taking a long drink.
"Seems he started a brawl: got his crowbar broke when he went and ripped out some chickies nipple ring. Fucker must have a thing for shiny stuff, ya think? Anyway, seems like the chick's buddy is out for blood. In the literal sense. Not ta mention that Splatter-Pup did this shit in front of a little kid. That's just freakin' wrong if ya ask me."
Yeah, mommy metis. She would never put Maddie in a situation where she saw that sort of violence, kin or not. Sure, the girl played Climb the Metis Mountain on a regular basis, but she wasn't inflicted with the pain of seeing her 'Guardians' going mental and ripping chunks of flesh out of people.
(james)
one albino metis
one dreadlocked ahroun
now ain't they a pair?
and he listens
oh.... he listens
and there's something in him that begins to reflect that sinister smile
something that darkens at the mention of the childpatience is a deadly virtue
and the Gnawer?
has more patience than is healthy for a saintit's obvious he doesn't like the Skald
opinions just keep lowering to find he goes ripping piercings out for fun
and then toss the violation of doing it infront of a kid?
that something seems egged on by the swell of Luna above the clouds
something that boils and twists just below tanned skin
(parents don't like it when you fuck with kids, even ones that aren't theirs)there is a toast of the bottle in thanks
then a long, thoughtful sip and swallow
and it's only then deep umber eyes look back to those sunnies"Know who her buddy is?"
(lars mckinnon)
Ripple.
There seems to be in the air that shifting of currents that sometimes happens with the predators of the world.
A shifting of fingers against hidden weapons. A shifting of eyes from behind wary looks. A shifting of perspective as a new fish enters the pond.
He's stands head and shoulders above most of the men here but isn't so tall as to be considered over-average.
Hair a stark bleach-blonde highlighted with equally unnatural scarlet red through the long almost girlishly smooth hair.
Tell that to him though.
Features are a criss-cross of hard bone and taut flesh that were it not for his youthful appearance would make one think he was just released from hard-time. More than a five o'clock shadow forming into a pale blond beard in a v-acrosst that defiant chin.
Fingers curled slightly as eyes narrowed and a dark brilliant green flicker through the pool-hall dismissively.
Already making his way over to what servers as a bartender in this whole.
Heavy well worn-combat boots beneath equally faded combat pants and in theme a black tshirt stretched taut over his chest underneath a pocketed vest you might expect to see on a swat team or someone up to equal violence less legally.(dakota)
"Santo - Insidious - said he got some contact details or some shit. Not much more details than that. Santo recognized the description of Dire right away: seems a little girl was the one telling the guy - the one who is out for the Gets blood. Drew a picture and everything... It's not like you can fucking' miss a guy who walked around with a bullseye printed on his forehead. I mean, hello, how subtle is a fuckin' 'family sigil' on your face? Hello...? Ech... he's a fuck head."Didn't look like the Metis was all that happy about the violence in front of a child... She knew what it was to have a child now and she would do anything to protect 'her' little girl. Given that the child was in actual danger to begin with. Someone touching Maddie didn't equate to her ripping their arms off. That was just so overacting.
She takes another swallow o fher beer, rolling it around her mouth, swallowing and then clicks her tongue stub against her teeth in thought.
A brief glance upwards at the change in the air, looking over the Gnawers shoulder. She lowers her sunnies (yes, sunnies in side at night) and wrinkles her nose a little, eyes unfocusing slightly for a long moment (damn theurges) before she looks back at Jukebox and tips her bottle towards Lars' direction.
"Lookit."
(james)
again, that smirk doesn't go all that very far away
whatever happend to the easy-going Gnawer they all know and love?
look up, baby, look up."Gonna need a chat with Santo, soon."
subtle enough
the point made with another gesture of the beer
then more of the fermented amber makes its way down his throat
watching her reaction
(he can't help it, it's interesting, dammit)
then he isn't quite as subtle in the next movelookit?
he does
dreads crawling over shoulders as his head turns
a moment spent scanning the crowd before seeing the taller man
oh... hello there
a good moment's study
and his gaze drifts on
all the way around before back to his companion
and a brow slightly liftsTell me more, Dakota-baby.
(lars)
A curled hand settled down hard upon the "bar". He's young if one looks hard enough but the grizzled features, facial hair and manner tend to make strangers assume he is older than his younger age."Beer."
The voice is a rough growl not because the guy seems to intentionally (or maybe...) being a dick rather from natural roughness or abuse of hard drugs/alcohol. Hard to say though most would assume the latter.
Tattered, dirty dollars are shoved across the bar as he waits with an impatient stance for the bartender to return."I'm looking for Dakota. Is she here?"
That much he new. Dakota and female. Little else had he managed to dig up about the enigmatic if locally infamous band (pack).
As he speaks further there is an elusive accent which mars-marks his words. Not from around here. In fact if one were to guess not from this side of the ocean.
(dakota)
A razor blade smile slashes across her features, a ripple of coyote mania flickering through her bizarre eyes (just contacts, right?) before she slides the lennon-style sunnies back up her nose to conceal her eyes (can't conceal all the strangeness/ stands out like a sore thumb)."More the merrier."
Looked like there a queue lining up for those who Splatter-Pup (as she put it) had pissed off or on. He was definately not making friends and influencing people... and much as people disregarded the Urrah, well, it wasn't a smart move. Tech (Weaver) and Streetwise combinations can be sheer lethal to the unsupecting.
She takes a swallow of the beer, finishing it off in one long pull, before motioning for another one to be laid on her, change from the last round still sitting untouched on the counter in front of them.
"Wolf-Wolf."
A play on 'woof woof' and enough indication as to what where when and who had just been dragged in from the winter night.
Then her name was brought up not that far down the bar. She and her pack were regulars enough down here in Atlantic City: Santo liked the pool halls and there was always someone to con... somewhere to get a gig. At least the boys had kept their little... streaking... escapade to Newark, even if that was a little close to home ofr comfort.
(st)
The tender behind the bar points with a flip of the rag he was using to polish some glasses down the bar, indicating the platinum (real white/no bleach) haired woman (long and lean at just under 6') some stools down. She had her back to Lars, face hidden, but the hand she used to prop up her head as she reclined against the bar was almost as white as her hair.(james)
he's keeping up with her round for round
he maybe hopeless at hard alcohol
but hanging with Eagle's pack he's learned to tolerate the beer
empty bottling thunking hollowly next to hersafter the guy down the bar gets his order
they're up next
and his new bottle clinks against hers"Naw... he's kinda cute if you go for that sorta thing."
grinned
absolutely unrepetantly
a playback on her play of words
nodding up a little at the gesture of rag"Seems you're fan club is following you."
(lars)
"Hm. Thanks."Another dollar shoved across the bar. Its not much but even a little tip can often lead to ease of information in the future.
Eyes of that strange crystalline green hue flicker towards her though as of yet not moving.
Rather get a feel for the chick first and already there was a creeping suspicion that was beginning to form in his skull not quite so thick as most assume.
Fingers tilt the beer up to his lips draining its contents nearly wholesale before those eyes flick to her companion.(dakota)
"Can ya blame 'em?"A shit-eating grin as she rolls her eyes behind the mirrored sunnies and turns her head to one side, giving Jukebox (and Lars coincidentally) a profile of her attractive (in a real weird way) features.
"Prime piece of ass here, boyo."
How different was it to be hanging out with someone that had a sense of humor?
(james)
screw different (..er)
it was damn well liberating
that's what it was"I know, I had it hugged up against me the entire ride, remember?"
that one punctuated by a wink
but as his beer tilts
he catches that flicked look from Lars
cool and calm the Gnawer. looks. back.
Dakota leaning against the bar between them...
well.... provides an easy avenue, really(lars)
Just like you don't approach strange dogs from behind...
Lars pushes the empty beer bottle over to the tender with two fingers in a glass against wood sound.
Heavy steps take him -around- Dakota and James rather than sneaking up on Dakota.
Sure he could he could have pulled the macho bullshit and drop in from behind. Lars may be many things though but rock stupid wasn't one thing. No matter who or what you were dealing with.
He is but a few paces away from the two before nodding in general to both then eyes settling on Dakota."Dakota."
Its meant to be a question but the low tumble of voice with its smooth honed edge makes it a statement.
(dakota)
"That's me, sugah-pie."She swivels on her stool, leaning (lounging) back on the bar with her arms crooked back against it for support and her log legs stretched out in front of her. She was an albino alright (sheer white) and she was dressed to the nines (sort of) as a industrial-goth. Black leather abounded, her lips and nails stained black, and she sported piercings in both her left eyebrow and ears.
"What can I do ya for, baby wolf?"
Yeah, she knew... (damn theurges)
(james)
while she's stark white and covered in black
sleek and dangerous and strange
he's a concoction of faded colors
the patchworked (glyphworked) trenchcoat
the haphazard array of dreads on muscular shoulders
she leans back, he's resting sideways
one elbow on the bar, the other lifting the beer yet againbut he stays quiet
this isn't his conversation
not to mention he's outranked
he's mannered enough not to interrupt
(and he's pretty sure Dakota can take care of herself, too)(lars)
There is a slight clench of his jaw at the misnomer which she dubs him. Yet unlike many of his "brothers" Lars had long ago learned that flaring temper to simple taunts often only caused them to come at you and again and again. Not that he would let insults roll off his back but there was a time and a place.Eyes are dead-pan green as they stare into her own. Lips peeled back in his semblence of a smile - a smile on a wolf.
Some part of him perhaps curious at her openess. Treading as ever thinly on the veil itself just like many of the band's songs.
Yet as long as that line wasn't crossed, right? Besides, there were those who had their opinions about such things."I expected you to be bigger."
The growl of voice reflects with the smile on the lips. Arms fold loose at his side as curled fingers dig for a pack of cigarettes that will eventually be found.
"Names Lars. I dropped you guys a message awhile back on your flyer."
(dakota)
"Ain't the size of your dick, baby boy, it's the size of the spirit you can throw."Wolfish grin answered wolfish grin. Yeah, that's right. Push the weaver theurge when she was in her element. She looks over her shoulder, moving an arm languidly to pick up her beer and takes a sip before looking back at Lars, eyes hidden by the reflective sunnies (stare at yourself, boyo).
"Manager handles fan mail, babe."
Was she deliberately misconsturing his words? Prossibly. Probably. More than likely.
(lars)
"Not well it seems. Let me know when you get it." Fan mail? Sure baby-insults to what she considers a baby wolf perhaps just for his young face. Then again in with their lifespans his age didn't necessarily mean much.
There is a tilt of a chin upwards as he shrugs. Yea, not a fan but not going to waste his time in what seems to the girl's desired time for word play - or her's. The temper only holds so long after all and fingers toss onto the bar a crumpled piece of a paper. Another flyer though not theirs.
Fingers lifting up to light the crinkled cigarette taking his time in his exit.
Sure he'd like to throw a punch or two. He'd like to do many things. But, this isn't his turf and he doesn't have a pack , a sept or a rank to stand on that would back up acting like an idiot in a public place.
Not all his kind are stupid.
(dakota)
She reaches over with a hand (other still holding the beer bottle) and picks up the crumpled paper, shaking it a little and spreading it out on one of her leather clad thighs. She looks it over, sliding her sunglasses down a little (eyes reflect the light like a cats) as she does so. She turns it over. A sniff. Shrug of the shoulders. She looks back up at Lars, sunnies down the bridge of her nose still."You wantin' a hook-up, sugah?"
(lars)
A smile this less feral than the first folds over his mouth as he takes a long drag. Then just as slowly as he began to walk away he turns around to face her."Depends."
A slight shrug of the shoulders as he stands in place just a few short feet from her throne.
Fingers loose against his side deceptive while the other casually flicks the cigarette.(dakota)
"Yeah and what on, baby cakes?"She called Decker honey-pie and sweetie the first time they met... this was just the same (tame). Everyone got little tag names from her. It was fate. It was the way it was. Heh.
(lars)
Maybe it pissed Decker off. Maybe it didn't. Maybe if she knew not just his race but his nature then she'd expect it to. Maybe she does anyway.
Surprisingly though a slight curl upwards of his lips as he shakes his head deep low chuckle forming. Its not the type of sound that hides agression beneath.
He seems to be actually amused. Steps heavy yet and slow though making it to her within several breaths."You stop calling me baby."
The smile has turned into that feral grin but this time its a grin that would fit on the face of a coyote.
(dakota)
He comes upon her, feral grin and deep chuckles, putting himself within her reach (real smart) although at least not in her face. One of her log legs lifts upwards, sliding between her legs and she pulls her knee towards her, bending, and then back so that effectively she was rubbing his lower thighs with her leg. A coyote leer and flick of her eyebrows as she slides the flyer into one of the myriad of pockets on her figure and then using the free hand to slide her sunnies back up into place (hide the eyes)."Sure thing sugah."
(lars)
One had to take chances or else risk cowering in the shadows all your life. And if coming into touching distance of Dakota was a risk? Well its obviously one he didn't feel he couldn't handle."You must be able to back up that mouth or yours else you'd not have made it this long."
Its not a smart ass comment but one of consideration. After all it doesn't take him being told to figure out what she -is-. And though they were more tolerant of her kind this side of the sea even smart-ass metis in the states he knew didn't last long unless they could back up their words.
"You want to hear me play or what?"
Fingers lift up to take the last drag off the crumpled cigarette.
(james)
he's still there
silent
and very amused
this is a delightful change from his own packhe loves them dearly
but half have no sense of humor
and Livingston he can't understand half the timeonce Dakota's bottle is empty
he reaches over to pluck it away
tapping the bar for two more
Lars is on his ownand just as smoothly as he took the bottle
he places the new full one back in(dakota)
Coyote don't back fools."He didn't either. Smart ass pranksters, yes. Warriors of a certain ilk, yes. Idiots no. And she wasn't pack leader for no reason. Usually the whole rank thing was pretty lax, they all gave and took shit from one another without a blink. If Lars couldn't deal with that or the fact that he'd be taking orders from a (gasp) Metis, then he was looking in the wrong place indeed.
"Band'll need ta hear ya, concerning music. More pointedly, Jimmy, our vocalist. He writes most of our stuff anyway. You wanna audition..." in more than one way "...then you come by the semi and show us what you've got."
(lars)
And that was the rub. A metis pack leader. Wouldn't the family lines tremble. One might briefly wonder if the pack and the band were one package. For now its only the band he's mentioned but then he's not verbose on subjects best left to closed doors."Name the time and a way to get there. I'll be there."
Simple enough. Eyes that were unblinking before have relaxed as fingers fish out yet another smashed cigarette littering tabacoo onto his pants.
(james)
knuckles crack as hands flex around the new bottle
but still, the full moon is very, very quiet
just drinking it on down(dakota)
She looks over her shoulder at the full bottle beer that James had exchanged for her empty one. She drops her chin slightly so that he could see the wink around the sunglasses before she picks it up, taking a pull from the neck of the bottle and then tilting her head to one side and then the other, cracking her neck. Slight sniff. Twitch of her shoulders."Call 'head before ya rock up. I'll make sure everyone who should be there will be."
That was also another thing with the pack, other than its casual nature, and that was the fact that they were usually scattered to the four winds doing something or other. Santo would be hussling in one place, Jimmy would be walking the lonely highways in another, Dakota would be filling her need for speed somewhere else, Jake would be doing his "Strider" thang, and Mariko would be reveling in her anime.
(lars)
"Number?"He nods towards the crinkled paper still sitting on the counter-top.
Despite his ability to track her down that had been in this case sheer luck.
And damned if he was going to go through the trouble of actually finding them as he did with their show.Truth was plain they did do their own thing so as a whole entity they were hard to find.
(dakota)
She looks back over her shoulder lazily and raises her beer above her head to catch the tender's attention. She manages to get a hold of a pen and scribbled down a number on a scrap of paper and holds it out to Lars between two fingers (touch me if you dare)."Don't go get hit by a bus or nothin' now, sugah."
Yeah. That was a dismissal, cause this Metis was a friendly one, but damn if she didn't have a chip on her shoulder still. She'd earned her position and place, fucked if she was going to let someone mess with her happy place cause it may (or may not) screw with their ideas of what was right and wrong.
(lars)
If the stranger is phased by the dismissal it doesn't show on the hard lined features. Maybe it was because he was already out the door or maybe its because he isn't as easily offended as she might expect (or like) him to be.
A long deep suck on the cigarette as eyes half close in the smokers paradise before finally he reaches out to fold the paper in his own fingers. Two fingers lifting up in a salute with the cigarette still in between as he turns silent following the same path as he entered in.(dakota)
"Ya know, there is a sore lack of humor in people these days."She clicks her tongue stud against her teeth, wrinkling her nose slightly as she continues to drink solidly, glancing sidelong at the Gnawer that had been quiet throughout the entire conversation.
(james)
it wasn't his place to talk in it, really
it was about her and her pack, not his
but he didn't seem all to pleased with the insintuations, either
and it shows
tilting his beer to clink the bottles again
amen
chuckling wryly around that beer"I'm packed with three Germans.... tell me about it."
(dakota)
She contorts her face into a mask of mock horror and raises a palm to her cheek, lowering her face down enough so that the gleam of her eyes over the rim of the sunnies was visible to him."How do you survive?"
(james)
that's when his smile gets sly"There are some perks, Dakota-baby. They ain't all Get."
muscular shoulders roll into another shrug
he's not exactly giving details?
but that trickster's glint is in the Ahroun's eyes"But it's mostly cause I went packless for a couple years and something is better than nothing. And they're not that bad... just gotta get used to it."
(dakota)
"Nyeh... I got me a Lord ta make up for a lacka Gets. She's alright, though. Sensea humor on that one, being a nomoon. She spends more time playing with Miss Kitty anime crap, but she got some weird morals 'bout her. Ain't Urrah enough, ya know?"She chews on her lower lip in silence for a long moment of silence, befor taking another drink and pondering the condensation on the outside of the bottle.
(james)
there's a bit of a frown
but then his head tilts in consideration
a Lord packing with Gnawers?
That is a new one in his books
guess she can't be all that bad
and he watches her, a minute"S'on your mind?"
putting empty bottle number three on the bartop
(dakota)
She opens her mouth to say something and then it snaps shut and a sardonic smile creeps along her black lips. A chuckle bubbles from her lips."Hold up. Incoming..."
She raises a finger and taps the side of her head in indication before she looks to be concentrating on another conversation (silent).
Coyote Whispers... Do you have a phone on you... Poor Jimmy whimpers...
Silent banter back and forth, her smile deepening and she shakes her head silently, taking another sip of her beer, finishing it off and clinking the empty bottle back on the bar.
She pulls out a mobile and dials, holding it up and speaking when whoever she had called picks up.
"Yeah, found him.... He's lost. Again.... Ya'll send someone out to pick the dozey bint up?... Yeah..." Directions are given and she hangs up, mobile sliding back into her jacket pocket before she looks back at James.
"You'd think I'm a babysitter or somethin'..."
(james)
that'd do it
he patiently waits on the Totem Phone's other line
it's somewhat amusing to see others communicate in such a way
so used to being "inside" the conversation
even his old pack hadn't had that
they were all too young and inexperienced
(and paid for it)
then flashes a grin"Think that's what Rune says about us, most of the time. Before she bought Decker the truck" yeh, Decker's, not the pack "she'd constantly be picking us up or whatever. Groceries. Weed. You name it, she takes care of it."
(dakota)
"I think Jimmy wanted the Kin ta pick him up so he wouldn't get a lecture... been missing days since I found out that he streaked in the mudd up in Newark with Santo. Damn that woulda been funny ta see."She stretches her legs out fully, toes pointing away from her to pull the muscles of her calf before relaxing again. She just seems to melt into the bar as she leans back against it.
"Do me a favor, will ya... need to be reminded ta pick up that kiddie cough medicine stuff. My girls got one of them winter coughs. Figurin' I'll forget without a call to."
Metis mommy. How... droll.
(james)
he can't help it
there's a laugh
he just can't imagine his pack doing that
there have been some interesting events that involve no clothes
but it sure wasn't streaking
and it sure wasn't the entire pack"Sure, 'nother round first? Or something harder?"
then he blinks
droll?
not by the look on his face
metis... mommy
he knows that doesn't equateand while that melting stretch sure gets his attention?
(leather and vinyl don't leave all that much to his imagination, seriously)
that statement sure as hell did, too"Your.... girl?"
he doesn't mean to gape like an idiot
doing well with only really a raised brow
there's definitely a story behind this one
he's just not all-out asking(dakota)
"Nother round sounds good."A wolfish grin as she motions for the tender to come and take their orders.
"Mah baby girl, Maddie... Though not so much a baby anymore. Rocked round ta five last month."
She tilts her pelvis up off the stool and reaches into a back pocket of her leather pants, pulling out a thin card holder and slides out a couple of small photos when she is seated again. She holds them out for the Gnawer, fanning the photos out like a deck or cards.
"That's Maddie."
She points to one photo that is of a small girl with a fey smile.
"Maddie with the Howl."
It is kinda hard to make out all the faces, but the girl was with the pack and some of their Kin, Maddie perched on Mariko's Ninja and looking very smitten about it.
The third photo was older with creases in it from being folded a few too many times in the past. Maddie, he could assume, was the little baby in a woman's arms and while Dakota was esay to pick (no shit) the other people in the photo weren't any of the pack or Kin from the previous image.
"That there's Maddie's real mom and dad." She points to two of the figures...
(james)
as she leans to get the pictures
he signals for another round
then when the pictures come out
he leans in a little
closing the space between them
brows lifting at the last one
(makes sense, doesn't it)
but his grin is soft
and it's not just the beers in himhe can hold more than three, geez
"She's a gorgeous kid."
there might be a little lingering sadness in his eyes
but not his voice
maybe fond regret"I've only got one picture of mine."
(dakota)
"Her mom and dad: dad was a packmate, see, from before Howl came about... all young and stupid, ya know. Made a pact... take care of one anothers' if anything happened. Shit happened and... I got Maddie. Drop down and drag out fight over it to..."She picks up her photo, looking down at the third, oldest photo and has her own sadness about her. Loss: that was their life.
"Yeah? Only one?"
(james)
"Yea? Had a pact like that with my old pack, too, oddly enough."there's a wry chuckle
and now it's his turn to lean to the side
pulling out a wallet
(he has a wallet?)
there's no money in it, or anything like that
and maybe he only keeps it because of the picture that's folded up inside
unfolded, there's a group in the picture
three guys and two girls
and there's a young James
fulla smiles and no regrets
he doesn't even look like he can be that happy anymore
his arms wrapped around one of the girls
a slender brunette that looked about seven months pregnanthe hasn't looked at the picture for a long time
but holds it up for her to see"Yeh. Just this one."
(dakota)
She looks at the photo as closely as he examined hers, cocking her head to one side and nodding her head slowly."I figure we have it in our destinies, our types, to always loose the ones we love."
She clicks her tongue against her teeth. It was a true sentiment for their lives, in the ways that they paralleled one another. Their lives were full of loss and pain, but it seemed to be that way for all of them in the long run. You can't fight a war - spiritual and physical - without losses on the way. She leans back and lifts up her beer bottle for a toast.
"To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due..."
(james)
"That we do. Shit just doesn't stop happening, does it?"spoken with a wry grin
his gaze lingers on the image for a moment longer
(what Garou in his right mind keeps a picture of Three Black Spirals and a fallen kin in his wallet?)
then it's tucked safely away
and his bottle lifted in toast"I can dig that, Dakota-baby, I can dig it"
clinked
and downed(dakota)
She slides her own photos away and clink... down goes the beer in one swift chug, slamming the bottle onto the bar."You gonna be needin' a lift back north tanight?"
She pulls out a rumpled pack of smokes, taking one and lighting it before offering the pack to James along with the lighter.
(james)
he's pretty quick about finishing his own beer, too
just not quite as fast as her
he's still getting the hang of this drinking thing
even Garou metabolism doesn't do shit when you're not in practice
or whateverbut soon enough the bottle thunks hollow
and there's a shrug that rolls his shoulders"Well, I have yet to make any money here yet.... was planning on doing that before going home. But if you've got a better idea of how I go about that, I'd prefer to be up north."
home territory
places he knows
he wasn't really complaining about the bike situation, either
he just enjoys her company
so nice to have someone with a sense of humor(dakota)
"Ya can make a few bucks with the Howl, if ya want... we got some work open, if ya don't mind hauling shit around. You'll be working with yar own Kin an' all too."She needed to really get that cough medicine also and head back North: make sure Maddie was alright and that Jimmy was in one piece...
She also seemed to be enjoying the company: much as she loved her pack, sometimes it was nice to talk shit with Garou that weren't in your head 24-7.
(james)
he doesn't take long to consider it
not long at all
in fact he's already straightening to stand"Don't mind hard work, would be nice to do something different for awhile... not to mention be around family. C'mon... you have cough medicin to buy."
see?
he remembered
and he knows all about how nice it is to be around someone that isn't in your head
someone that isn't judging you
someone that isn't about to thump your ass over a little sleight
(someone with a sense of humor, face it James, you miss that)(dakota)
She stands, stretching her lean 6' frame and flicks the tails of her trench behind as she dramatically offers the Gnawer the crook of her arm with another coyote grin and gestures to the door."Shall we, dear sir?"
(james)
he is just as much of a showman as she
that selfsame sly grin raking over features
even in the crowded bar, he has room to return the bow
stepping up beside her with a flourish
slipping his arm through hers"Let's roll."
one albino and one dreadlocked Gnawer
one leather trench and one tattered trench
fifteen steps and they're on the street
now ain't they a pairPosted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 13, 2002.12.13.02. - bad vibes [rune-decker-imogen/st] *fv[north jersey]
(james)
the cab ride was long and quiet
from the Barrens all the way up to the city
he just looked out the window
it's not to say he sees things in a new light, persay
but after this morning's conversation with Eliza
there is something different about him
about the way he watches the miles roll on byfrom the freeway to the city
from the stop and go traffic to the Rolling Meadow's entrygate
that's where he steps out
leaning back in to pay the ludicrious amount of money to the cabbie
he's glad that Rune gave him the cash
that woulda been one long walk
and a cold one, too
especially if he was down on his luck with the hitchesit's an easy stroll that weaves back towards the proper block
the newly mended trench all clean and flowing
no stains hardening the fabric
all his Stuff back in the pockets
along with his hands
wearing that easy half-grin on his faceboots are slow on the stairs
there's a half hesitation in his step
he had intended on being home nearly 24 hours ago
and, oddly, there's a part of him that worries about the reception
keys hit the lock anyway
quietly letting the Gnawer inside(rune)
The key hits the lock, and the door swings open: wall. of. sound. The Bangs' irrepressible girl-group punk ...taste so sugary but I want more..., with vocals oddly reminiscent of the Bangles. Somewhere beneath it (almost oppressively loud, thank god for the sound panels in the walls), the low hum of both televisions - the new Plasma TV mounted on the wall, the other one, shunted to the side by still front and center in the room, both on, practically muted. One's tuned to CNN, the other to MSNBC. Closed captioning crawls across the screens, obscuring the bottom rung of scrolling headlines and shadowing the low murmur of the presenters. And more: Diablo II on the desktop, some huge download open on the desktop, and four or five or six windows, besides.Rune's seated in front of the computer, headset half-on, half-off, tunneling the game's sound straight to her rather than allowing it to add to the headache inducing mix. One leg curled beneath her, the other sprawled out alongside the long, low desk. Toes flex pointing at the ceiling, then curl tight, then release, the only voluntary movement over than the dance of her fingers over the keyboard and mouse, the faint bob and weave of her shoulders toward the glowing screen. The band of the headphones pulls back her hair from her face, though more than a few fine strands have escaped this prison to fall across cheek and brow, to tickle the line of her jaw.
Overstimulation: that's the word for it.
Incense does little to cover up the scent of marijuana smoke, which still drifts in faint waves through the lower floor. Other than that, though, the place is clean enough: it must've been the cleaning lady's day today.
The door opens - and though there's no way she could've heard the key in the lock - she lifts a hand and waves briefly - not quite looking back, dark eyes still glued to the screen - before it falls back to continue the battle against an infinite number of diabolical cattle.
(james)
after the silence of the barrens
after the silence of the cab ride
after the silence, relative, of the stroll through the parking lot
he practically takes a step back from the literal assault of sound
(ho. lee. chit.)
his head shakes to thicken sheild of dreads over his earsdark eyes dance around the room
falling upon the television screens
nothing on CNN
nothing on MSNBC
nothing on the downloads
but Diablo II looks interestingshoulders shrug the trench off to hang neatly on the rack
(rather than simply tossed somewhere like the rest of the pack does)
grabbing the remote off the laquered table and turning the volume down
his teeth were vibrating, mananother few steps and long body stretches over hers
while at the same time dropping to crouch
not doing anything to disturb her slaughter of mad cows
plucking the forgotten joint from the ashtray
his dreads brushing the back of her shoulder
taking a looooooooong drag
and just watching her play(rune)
Her head jerks up and back, startled by the sudden cessation of sound, which is as disturbing in its own way to her as the sheer assault of noise was to James after the silence of the Barrens, the silence of the cab ride, the relative silence of the short stroll through the parking lot. Headphones dislodged by the movement slipslide, the speaker falling from her left ear, the band sliding down to settle around her neck like a black plastic collar. Her hair - still largely ensnared by the headphones - poofs up in the back as shelifts her head to glance up at him, focusing briefly before - "fuck!" - returning to the task at hand.There's another dead cow.
He can hear the sound effects translated through the headphones, which provide fine sound when settled over ones ears, but translated by distance, the sound becomes tinny and abstract, like some third-rate 1950s Sci-Fi spectacular: Attack of the Killer Eating Body Blobs from Planet X, or something similar.
"Have fun last night?" another glance over her lowering shoulder, interrupted again when she catches site of the screen in her peripheral vision and turns sharply back to her game. The suggestion of a smile on her painted mouth, now glimpsed as little more than a fuller curve to her cheek, or - perhaps - a faint, ghostly reflection over the carnage on the screen.
(james)
he looks positively contrite at her sudden distraction
ack.... he hadn't meant to
but at the curve that swells her cheek
that silly little grin returnsexhaling a plume of smoke
then holding the joint where his hand isn't in the way
but she can take a drag"Loads.... passed out drunk just like you predicted."
he settles now
lowering to the floor
sitting comfortably behind her to watch the game
as she sits with one leg curled and the other stretched
he's able to stretch both legs out
his chest following the curve of her back
but it's only the weight of dreads that touch her"Got cooked breakfast, then had a long chat with Eliza this morning."
the words drift off
he doesn't say much about her kids
he caught on Rune doesn't particularly like them
even if he knows she knows that's the reason he stayed(rune)
"Cooked breakfast, hmmm?" Spoken in a thin, strained voice after a long moment of holding smoke in her lungs, the words are accompanied by a fine stream of smoke that continues (shoulders falling, diaphram relaxing with the exhalation) for several mostly silent (beneath the noise of the CD, pumped throughout the bottom floor) moments. "Real biscuits, I bet, not those fucking canned ones. Hate those fucking canned ones."Usually she eats Froot Loops, anyway. Froot Loops covered in chocolate soymilk, washed down with beer, or coffee if she's feeling domestic.
"Good to know hospitality's not a lost art."
The game may be interesting enough (in a mindless. fucking. way.) for Rune to play: certainly she spends hours at it over the course of any given week, but it's hardly as interesting to watch, particularly when all she's doing is killing these damned. cows. Soon enough - several incomprehensible clicks - and she's retreating to the town hall. The game effectively paused (at least she didn't die), Rune's hands at last leave the keyboard. She holds out one for the joint, and casts him a glance over her shoulder. "Good talk?"
(james)
"Yeeaaa..... Mae made real biscuits, sausage, eggs, the works. I can do eggs, but never had the wherewithall to learn the biscuits."theres soft laughter
exhaled on his latest drag
yea, he just offered to cook for her
as best he can, anyway
the half-joint passed back over"No it's not, pretty rare though."
and while it may be boring for most to watch
these video game things are still pretty new to him
he has the old school nickel arcades under his belt
all of this is the new fangled stuff
he can figure out the PS2
he hasn't even begun to attempt any on her computer"Somewhat...." in a slight sigh "She's lonely as I was."
(rune)
"I don't cook eggs," she murmurs back, wreathingly amused, lashes lowering to shadow dark eyes, a smudge of inky color against pale skin. Rune half-shifts forward, then ducks her head and slides the headphones from around her neck, allowing them to fall almost soundlessly into her lap. "...but I can do a great breakfast scramble. Sausage, hashbrowns, peppers and onions and cheese. It's my one fucking dish. It's my speciality."The half-smoked joint, snared between forefinger and thumb, brought to her lips, inhaled, passed back, is graced with a tracery of her lipstick on the twisted paper. (Reminds folks I've been there.) As she passes the joint back, her hand drifts in a faint, almost frustrated gesture, an impatience that plays across her face. "...but she's got all those kids? And all those people?"
Rune just doesn't get it. She just doesn't - quite - get it: the kinfolk's loneliness, the kids, the confessions and absolutions asked and offered, perhaps. She herself is a closed book, and she prefers it that way.
(james)
"Eggs were easy to get a hold of, Sledge had a skillet, so we learned how to cook 'em all sorts of ways."he won't go into what else they would opt to throw in
for him anything goes with eggs
he's sure her pallete is probably more refinedhow strange it is now, though
when he couldn't speak of his pack for two years
not a -single- word in two years
yet he refers to them in passing around her
then his head shakes
keeping up the rotation"Even when you're surrounded by others you can be lonlier than you could ever imagine. It wasn't only her sight that was taken, seems like her memory that went along with it is gone, too."
he isn't sure how to explain it
and it shows
but somehow he got it
he understood, fully, what she felt
reaching past her shoulder and grabbing to discarded cards from the desk
fashioning a roach clip
and offering the joint back(decker)
(*grr* *left out a line*) "Don't want tender lovin' care," a lift of a smirk, onesided. "Make me soft 'n shit--"She rarely touches him, but she does now. She rarely kisses him, but she does now. There's cold at his back and warmth at hers; there's the warmth of her body before him, and the heat of his, a degree or three above the human norm, before hers. He closes his eyes and doesn't finish the sentence for some time, and his arms stay at his sides beneath her cold fingers until he moves: fingers first, brushing the denim over her thighs; then the hands, closing over her hips, and then the arms, the body, arching forward over and about her to smooth down over her flank and - bloody effortlessly, almost, only the flex of arms and chest beneath her touch evidencing that her weight had any bearing at all on him - lifts her upon and above him, and compensates for the difference in heights. Effortless, because on the best of days he could crush bones if he wanted to - and on the worst of days, even if he didn't.
A moment, two later, he's outside and hopping the gap between the balconies under a crescent moon.
Days later, that same moon is swollen and gibbous. James and Rune have precisely four seconds to stow away talk of James' old pack, because that's how much time they have between the banging of Decker's bedroom door (open - a click, a thud) and the appearance of the Modi at the mouth of the hallway. Somewhere over his shoulder is the rasta-man Theurge. Decker flicks a glance over the pair, all snuggled up, and chooses not to say anything. This time.
"Gonna go check out that house with Livin'ston. Y'all comin'?"
(rune)
"Well, now that I know about your expertise, I'll put it to the test sometime." The smile that curves her cheek, the smile that spills across her mouth, no longer quite reaches her eyes. He sees her only in profile, though - the lifted cheek, the slant of lashes, framed by the arrogant line of her nose - and thus the nuance of the expression is likely lost to him.Even when you're surrounded by others... Familiar, that.
"Yeah, okay," is what she says, when at last she rouses herself to speak. Her voice is non-committal and distant, stripped of expression, as if she were speaking to him over a telephone concocted out of tin cans and wire: sound translated to vibrations, back to sound, sound one must strain to hear, naked and flat as an unworked sheet of metal. Her eyes falls closed, and she accepts the passed joint by feel, the faint and certain physical instinct does not betray her: one and a half-hits sucked in hard and fast, held tightly as she passes the joint back, blindly. "...that makes sense."
Decker appears then, and Rune pushes the heels of her palms against her eyes - clearing her mind - then completes the gesture by opening her hands and sliding long fingers through fine strands of night-black hair. She should add the crimson wash to it again, sometime soon. She liked that look.
"Yeah, okay." That was her response to James, and now that's her response to Decker. "Gimme five minutes to change."
(james)
how much of that was experience talking
how much of that was from the conversation this morning
whatever the answer is
it's lost as he takes the roach blindly handed backby-passing himself
as Rune rises
his torso twists
offering the make-shift roach clipped vestiges to Decker
or Livingston"Yeh."
hell, he hasn't even gotten more comfortable coming home
(home...)
than taking off his (washed!) coat and sitting down
what's getting up and going back out again(decker)
A nudge of the chin up as the Modi sinks down on the couch, sets his feet up on the glass-faced coffee table. All fixed now, ain't that nice?As Rune disappears upstairs to change, the Modi reaches forward to snag the joint. Takes a hit, but just one - wanted to stay sharp tonight. Passes it on. Eyes the coat. "Lookin' clean, James."
(rune)
Soon enough Rune comes back downstairs again: freshened up, so to speak. Refreshed. Or, at least, changed: her dedicated clothing: leather pants, white cotton tee, well-worn hiking boots of all things. She grabs her second best coat from whereever she tossed it last, and grabs her keys from the living room."You drive, Decker?"
The three of them might fit in the truck.
(james)
oh, there's a bit of a smirk to that one"Yeh, Mae washed it and what's left of my gloves while I was passed out.... if I didn't wake up when I did I"m sure she woulda trimmed the dreads, too.... got breakfast out of it so I'm not complaining."
by then, he's up off the floor
long body stretching as he walks
grabbing the coat off the hook and shrugging it back on
already having a feeling he's gonna be shoved into the back
thank Gaia they got the king cab(decker)
A snort; then a mute nod. He gets up and stops by the breakfast bar to fish keys out of the swanky stylized glass bowl in which they sat. Down the stairs they go, out to the Tacoma - muddy again, and with two Goodyears on the front wheels, two Michelins on the back.There's a reason for that.
The truck starts up with a roar. Presumably Rune gets shotgun, so James is wedged into the "roomy" back seat which, for a 6' muscular Ahroun, isn't all that roomy. At least the seats are soft, though, and the suspension decent: firmer than a sedan's, to be sure, but nothing like that rattling deathtrap Decker's old truck used to be.
He drives them out the way they went the first time, from their upper middle class bland suburb into the commercial districts, then the industrial, then the low-income housing, and finally the slums. They pass the charred hole in the ground that used to be a house without slowing, park seven blocks away (...and walk to the fight), and head into the shadow of a rundown business to step over.
(rune)
And step over they do. Garou always carry something with them for such moments, even the less-than-spiritual Ahrouns of the Nation. Fortunately, for Rune the mirror is functional as well. She checks the shade and coverage of her lipstick briefly, before she grabs Decker's shoulder to guide him through. Dark eyes darken in concentration and she reaches and pushes at once.The barrier is thick here, but that's something she's used to dealing with, at least. On the other side, Rune waits for James to appear, and then the pack turns its attention to their surroundings.
(imogen)
The house is mostly charred foundation and broken timber and wood, burned black and softened from the half assed attempts of the firefighters to stop the blaze. The houses on either side have their corners blacked and their roofs obviously repaired. The fire had gone on for quite some time unabated before the firetrucks had deigned to arrive. There is not much time to review the area as the truck passes it, heading several blocks away.They find an abandoned grocery store, it's windows boarded up, but it's no trial for Decker and his elite lock skills (also known as: Kick. Real hard.) to get them in, the door swinging rotten on rusty hinges. Pushing through the gauntlet is like diving into the atlantic in the middle of winter buck naked. The wind rushes from their lungs with the enormous pressure of weaver, and it feels almost like every single hair on their body is being pulled out from the roots. Welcome to the city, Wolves. The technology that Rune loves so much creates the ephereal barrier into something more tangible and more dangerous. It may occur to them that they are lucky to get through such a thing alive. There are stories of Garou stuck in the space between realms for centuries. Unable to move, unable to cry out. Unable to die.
But they are all here, the three of them, with all their fingers and toes, and thus there isn't all that much to worry about. Stories are stories, unless they happen to you. Onward, then, toward the husk of the house, following the path of the web with unskilled feet, walking for what seems to James as an eternity and to Rune as only a few minutes. Time shifts like sand, here.
The umbra often reflects some of the more stable and stagnant things from the other world, buildings that may have been there for years stand in ghostly relief among the pattern, and traffic lights with little green, yellow, and red creatures that yell "go", "caution!" and "STOP!!!" respectively dot silvery roads and highways.
The house that is a husk in the real world still stands here in the umbra, with it's foundation a inky crawling black, and it's supports a dismal grey, leaking discomfort from the very wood and insulation.
(james)
it's not that squished
and throughout the ride he stretches out sideways
muuuuuuuch nicer than that rattling deathtrapon the walk to the shadows
gray bandana comes out, ties back the dreads
rebar clinks in the sling over his shoulder
he doesn't look at the charred hole in the ground
he doesn't want to remember that homecoming
nor what they brought homebut once in the shadows of the building
it's hard to not think about it
so he thinks about the side-step instead
body thins and streeeetches
city boy in city gauntlet
two, ten, eleven
all here
and looking around? already he's uncomfortable(imogen)
The house is mostly made up the foundation and frame, the actual walls more shadows of brick and insulation, ghostly gauze that half obscures their view inside. There are so many things to see.(decker)
"...real pretty."Somewhere along the way, somewhere along the miles between Alabama (and Texas and Oregon and Montana and Oklahoma and DC and Georgia) and Jersey, he must've swapped those letters back around: purty to pretty. Some all fuckin' edumacated now.
Looking at the house, he folds into a crouch, reaching out to pick up a handful of Umbral dirt. Let it run through his fingers, let it fall and catch on the wind: he stands again, wiggling his fingers to clear the dirt between them.
He ain't no Umbral expert, but houses don't usually show up this-side at all. And certainly not with this sort of spiritual burden. A tilt of his head toward the hunched and looming house. "C'mon then."
(imogen)
Living room. The bedroom for Olivia. The room that belonged to Lloyd (and with a knowledge that comes from secondary spirit sight, this they know) and to the other child. All stand out in near technicolour. Beneath the bright almost garish re-enactments, shadows play, and there is a sense of overwhelming darkness beneath the bright swells of light. The kitchen, the basement and the parent's bedroom, have all be swallowed by the underpromise of black, leaving nothing more than intense shadows.What must be most frustrating is how the images that they see, that they know are there, keep slip-sliding from their consciousness. They must look directly at one, and ignore all others, or nothing seems to make sense, it's all little more than a jumble of images, impressions of something happening. A movie in a drive in movie theatre too far away to see.
(rune)
Rune reacts bodily to the vision of the ghostly house, hackles rising, pace slowly to a crawl and then a stop. She cants her head to the side - dark hair swinging freely until she pushes an impatient hand through the falling strands. Narrowing her eyes, she lifts a hand to shade her vision, as if there were a sun in this twilight, nightridden half-world, as by doing s, she could focus her gaze more, see farther.The windows are half-obscured, blind cataracts that do more to conceal that reveal.
Stage two then.
"Circle around. See what there is to see all the way around before we head in." Rune remarks, mutely wishing for a Theurge, who might offer better guidance.
(james)
he just follows
he's seen some seriously wicked shit in his crossovers before
(rare as they've been)
but this ranks right on up there among the creepiest
he's almost sullenly silent
(he knows what happened here)
shoulders roll beneath the trenchround the the merry go round we go
(decker)
Without the need for subtlety here - whatever little subtlety Decker possessed - he trails his Beta in his warform. One of his warforms, at least. The larger one, brawnier, bipedal and balanced on a digitigrade stance, towering feet upon feet over his packmates' heads.Around back they go, circling a wary few feet from the house, though the Modi cranes his neck out for a cursory sniff of the blackened wood. Didn't look painted. Paint didn't seep in that deep.
A blast of air out. No steam here. In the wild the Umbral seasons roughly matched those of the Realm; here, locked in this weaver's web, everything's static, normalized, balanced...
...eroded, also, here.
Rotten. It's easier to think than it is to speak in this form, and the sightscentthought that flickers is that of rot: rotten fruit, rotten wood, rotten flesh. While he scents at the wood, James is pressing palms to earth, and Rune is peering in through the windows: touch scent sight. Strife is (momentarily) set aside out here: they are three of a pack, and three senses of a greater body.
Go in?
(james)
once they're at the backside, right where he was told they ran out
just before the place became a complete inferno
the Gnawer slowly strips off what he calls gloves
tails of the trench swept back as he crouches
hands lain palm flat against the ground"We lookin' for anything particular?"
half murmured, real damn soft
his eyes half close
blocking everything else out
whatcha feelin' there, Jamey-boy?something that definitely makes him snatch his hands away
mental voice a practical hiss, before he even really realizes it
maggots crawling in rotted flesh
it's a very decisive frown, now, distaste expression rampant
hands rubbed against the BDUs to wipe the feeling of his palms crawling away
go in? yay....(rune)
Rune casts a glance back toward Decker - back and up and up and up and up - and then, not so far up after all, though still plenty angled in that direction as she shifts from human to near-man, body bulking, dedicated clothing stretching and morphing to conform to the new silhouette of her taller, heartier form.Not exactly my area of expertise, Rune replies, after a moment spent supressing the shudder that racks through her form as James' mental voice comes through, a hiss. I figure, whatever we're looking for, we'll find in there.
Half-a-nod toward the back door, and then she starts walking. The door - the knob - flung open here goes - and she pauses to flicker a glance around inside, then enters.
(decker)
In contrast to the discrete words of his two still-humanoid packmates, the Crinos communicates in flickerflashes. Images that speak volumes in split-instants: one two three, boy boy girl, three children. Three children falling, one two three, boy boy girl, infant toddler child, the first buried, the second blackened, beaten, boxed, the last rising again, rotten at the core.[The family had three children. The first boy, Lloyd, died a toddler. The second boy was born, then beaten to death a few years later and put in a trunk, wyrmtainted. The last rose a fomor. We're looking for anything you can find.]
Close on the heels of the Glabro Glass Walker, the Crinos Fenrir, who bends almost double to fit in through the door because he didn't what to pass through the quasisolid walls. Straightening within as much as he can (eight-foot ceilings, nine-foot beast), straightening until it's comfortable enough in the creature's somewhat hunched natural stance, he scents the air again, tail moving in a slow pendulum.
(imogen)
As she crosses the threshhold of the door, Rune is almost over powered by the cacophony that assults her senses. Colour. Sound. Smell.Bright red. Deep black. Whiskey yellow. Flesh tones. Pink nail polish. Blue jumpers.
Yelling (You son of a --- Fucking bitch. Cunt. Whore. --Never do anything right! Pass me the bottle.), cursing, panting, swearing. Screams, childlike and thin.
Smell the blood. The shit. The vomit. The whiskey, the beer. The crack. And then...Decker enters, and in his crinos, more animalistic form, this must seem almost unbearable, instincts driving to hit out, fight back, find the source. With nothing there. And then...
James too, when he enters, finds himself thus assaulted.
And then....
This too shall pass.
Cacophony fades, leaving only flickerflash of memory and the sights of bright colour, seen only out of the corner of the eye, only dismally, unless one looks at it directly. Look up, toward the ceiling and you can see the bedrooms. Parents bedroom, a near opaque black. Olivia's bedroom, carrying out some memory scene, showing some theme, acting out some history, not quite visible through the floor boards. The empty bedroom, not empty here, but home to something, somehow, somewhere, because some story is being unfolded again, and again. Something happened to imprint it into the umbra's memory. (or something's memory). Again, not quite visible through the floorboards.
The living room. Another story. Or the same one in this bleak and ghostly house, where three children have died. All one needs is to look at it directly, to make the images solidify. The question is, is it really important?
(james)
they're shifting up, in various war forms
barely fitting through the door or near doubling to fit through it
he? soon joins then
the feeling of skin crawling in his hands spreads throughout his body
it's rare they see him in this form, Gaia's ultimate warrior
it's rare he shifts at all, even rarer to Chrinos
the response coming as a deeply chuffed grunt from the shaggy creature
(seems those dreads never fully go away)yea, he remembers the last kid
yea, he remembers the one in the trunkthis way? he doesn't think about them the same way
there's a part of him that dampens beneath all the fur
rebar clinks as the sling adjusts on bulked out shoulder
seems this was what it was made for
the strap fitting like a glove so it doesn't hinder
there's a leather thong biting into the ruff of fur around his throat
ears pinning at the assault
looking left, right, up (shudder) and aroundhe shouldn't look at the living room
(three kids died here)
but he does(decker)
First reaction: kill something. Kill what? Don't matter. FIND SOMETHING. Look around: swing left, swing right, lips peeled back to reveal staggeringly long teeth, slightly blunted at the tips from wear. From all the other fights he's been in, all the other things he's killed. Drop to all fours under the assault of noise. Look around, eyes blazing, claws sunk deep into the black floor of the toobright toodark house (ain't no dog claws, boy. ain't dulled like city claws, from walkin on city fuckin sidewalks--)
KILL SOMETHING--- and it stops, and the Modi is clenched hard as rock on the floor, shoulders and chest incongruously wide, and neither deep enough for the fourlegged animal stance. The hackles on his neck are stiff as brush bristles.
The swimming images; the things that occur on the corners of his mind, only pulling into focus when he looked at them. Like the classic haunted house ghost that always lurked at the corners of your eyes, only reversed: only these phantoms became real if you looked.
Tchhhzzzhh. Static. Bedroom, bedroom, bedroom, living room. And our contestant picks...
One thing at a time.
James looks. Decker? Doesn't. Someone's gotta watch their backs. He'll get it secondhand through James' mind, a little misted out, the volume a little distorted. But he'll still get it.
[paused]
Posted by james at 12:00 AM.12.13.02. - what it's like when worlds collide [mae-eliza][pine barrens]
(james)
he doesn't remember how he made it to the couch
he's not even exactly sure what he was doing to warrant it
just suddenly the world started rotating the other way
time. for James. to lay down.there's a vague inkling of looking up at two Decker's growling something
and when eyes slowly crack open
the Modi isn't there anymore
and hesitantly the Gnawer begins looking around again
the mid-morning sun as it creeps through the slight parts in the drapes
the slinkslide of brilliantly bright (it always is brighter out here) light tiptoing across the floorboards
that's about when he risks a stretch
and his head. throbsRule #1.
Get drunk in the city.
Pine-sol and clear skies suck for hangovers.he can smell the Skald
but that scent's long gone
he must have left earlier in the morning
and finally limbs begin to recoordinate themselves
the Gnawer sits up
dreadlocks falling forward
head instantly in hands
move instantly regretted(eliza)
"Must o' been some night, eh..."The smooth teacher-ma'am voice drawls sardonically from behind him as a glass of putrid looking something (at least it was liquid) came into view over his shoulder. The hand was old and the skin was wrinkled and weathers by a long life of work. Mae... the matron from the night before... Right. If nothing else, she sounds vaguely amused at his pain, which is what most people felt when they saw someone inflicted with a hangover while they weren't.
If it wasn't bad enough that she handed him a glass of foul smelling liquid (it probably would help his hangover, if he could keep it down) she then proceeded to flush open the curtains, allowing a stronger warmer stream of sickly winter morning light into the living room.
"Eh, yer need ta learn how ta drink, laddie, like my Liza does."
Not that Eliza was probably faring any better than James this morning, being that she drank on into the night after the Gnawer had fallen asleep (passed out) on the couch.
(james)
there's a blink as the cup of...... something.... is suddenly hovering infront of his face
but he takes it anyway
seeming to just know it'll make him feel better
aunti mame's don't come without home remedies
breath held and he chugs the foul thickness down
it's an excuse to close his eyes as the curtains are flung open
(oh. my. god.)
breath heaving after about swallow four
time for a break"Thanks.... and I'm not sure" there's a wry chuckle "I seem to have passed out before the fun really started."
he knows he can't drink
that, coupled with the sedative calm
and he was a gonervoice thick from the hangover, sleep, and..... whatever it is she gave him
doing his best to keep the reactive face from being too obvious
that's strong shit
even if he's sure she'd just cackle at him anyway
somewhere, in the haze, a grin finds its way to the surface"And I think no matter how hard I try to learn, her tribe gives her advantage."
(eliza)
"True, true..."A faint chuckle, for it was well renown that the Fianna were all drunkards, or so the stories went. She places her fists on her hips and looks him over, eyes shrewd and decisive.
"Ya wouldn't be knowing then what's wrong with my Liza?"
Moving around the Gnawer, she is tidying and cleaning up, prodding him occasionally to make him move over on the couch so that she could fluff the pillows on one side... prod prod... and then on the other. She folds the blankets and pillows that were used by the impromptu guests, taking them out of the room and then returning with a thick towel which she held out to him, eyeing his hair at the same time. She looked like she wanted to take a pair of scissors to the dreads.
"Yer coat's in the wash, long with them gloves. Tsk."
(dire)
*he comes padding out of the bathroom in lupus sniffing and looking around*(james)
he seems to be used to it
moving over without protest
sometimes anticipating what she's going to do
it seems he's very used to having someone like Mae around
reminds him of Momma Ruggs
there's a knitting of brows that's from confusion as much as the foul tasting swallow"There's something wrong? What do you mean..."
he trades the empty (glech) glass for the towel
standing to go gather toothbrush from his pack by the door
then just stares at her"You. Washed. My. Coat?"
it's not that he doesn't agree it probably needed a wash
he hadn't done that for a couple of weeks now
and he's pretty sure it won't fall apart with the cleaning
but with the way she's eyeing his dreads
(touch 'em and die, woman)
he's suddenly quite worried about his Stuff in the pockets(dire)
*He looks up between the two of them. Dark ash gray Get with the tattoo over his left brow. His tail wags gently.
Streching his jaw he does that "Man that tasted funny" Thing canines can do with their tongues. THe blue water in the toliet LOOKEd clean*(eliza)
I don't like this woman, she can read miiiiinds... A quirk of a wry smirk as she eyes the Gnawer and then tosses her head towards the dining table."Yer stuffs on the table, lad."
And indeed it was, all neatly piled and, save for being removed, hadn't been pawed through. She had some manners. She still eyed his hair with some distaste as if he had some bizarre half-sentient growth sprouting out the top of his head. She shakes her head and cliks her tongue, turning to walk out of the living, saying over her shoulder in a breif pause. If Eliza had a 'shut up and eat your vegetables' tone that could make most people do it... Mae had that commanding matron tone that said she would take a wooden spoon to even a full-grown Garou's asscheeks if they gave her lip. She wore the britches in the family home, thank you very much.
"When you have had your shower, breakfast will be ready."
Her tone brooked no arguement.
(dire)
*He sniffs the air at the mention of breackfast. His ears rotating forward*(james)
his shoulders relax immediately
relief simply flooding
he doesn't seem to mind that she just plucked his thought out of thin air
again, it seems like he expected it
strong women are a norm where he grew up"Yes Momma."
it's not condescending, like yes ma'am would have been
it seems, more, a term of respect from the young Gnawer
especially with that grin raking over his lips
whether or not the matron gets what he means is yet to be decided
but toothbrush is gathered
and he wanders back towards the bathroompausing by the table
he shuffles through the items there
the slingshot, brass knuckles, various little stuffs he's picked up
those he leaves behind, for now
plucking out the keyring with more keys than seems useful
that's slipped into BDU pocket
and he's off to the bathroom
passing the large wolf"Mornin' Dire."
(dire)
*He watches the interplay betwen the gnawer and the kin and tilts hius head. He knew Gnawers were omegas but damn.... *he shakes hishead and nibbles a forpaw. Then they split up and he looks up. Chuffs softly to James in wolf tongue* ~WS~ Mornin' Drums. * He walks into the kitchen and sniffs around*(eliza)
Upon entering the kitchen Dire is met with a wooden spoon that stops just before it smackes him between the eye sna ears. Mae, the older Fianna kinfolk woman that was Eliza's only assistance with her young children, glowered at the lupus form and used the spoon to point at Dire and then point towards the living room."Out! Out! Ah won't be havin' yer in tha kitchen while ah'm cooking, young man."
She spoke to him like she fully well knew that he could understand her, even if it looked particularly odd that she was doing so with a... wolf. She waggled the wooden spoon at the Skald, her other hand on her hip. Glare of Doom.
(dire)
*He snarls and damn if he doesn't move like lightning uncoiled at something comeing twords his face SNAP SNAP SNAP!!! The spoon falls in 4 pieces and he growls softly. Not that he's overtly mean at the monent but you don't just go swining at a get. No matter how good natured he is. Especially when he's in lupus and closer to the wolf. He slinks around her with those Icy blue eyes daring the kin to try wacking him again*(eliza)
"Eat 'nother of mah spoons, young man, en' its canned dog food for you. No pancakes, no sausages, no nothing. Dog food. Now git..."That was her favorite spoon too. But Get or Gnawer or BSD even. She was the matron of this house, this was her kitchen, her territory. You don't mess with a woman's kitchen. Not unless you wanted to be fed worms or something.
(dire)
*He snrarls again and folds his ears back. Not that she could speek wolf but... what'd you expect.. He wasn't white fang he was a wolf, a real one. He snorts after getting his nose full and with his head held high, mayby in defiance he trots on out of the kitchen. He smelled what he'd wanted to any way. One large paw "Accidently" stepping on and kicking a piece of the spoon clattering acroos the floor as he goes to the table and useing his head pushes out a chair and hops into it*(james)
water blasts steaming in the shower
between the foul wake-up breakfast shake and the glaringly blindingly bright sunshine
the darkened little cave of the bathroom is a welcome retreat
all warm and steamy and darkRule #2.
Don't argue with matrons.
They, more often than not, know what is best for you.
If not, stinging skin will convince you that, yes, even that is good for you.
Whether you believe it or not. You will.but he didn't argue
whether or not the kin was supposed to be a lesser being than him
it didn't matter - it was all about respect
those that outranked you or those that were below you or more of an elder than you
in a safehouse like this? everyone was equal
his ingrained reaction to matronly figures probably helping quite a bitand sooner than he'd like to exit the warm, steamy retreat
he does
climbing back into his clothes and boots
towel hung neatly over the curtainrod to dry
so back into the hallway comes one clean Gnawer
teeth brushed
skin scrubbed
dreads in towel-dried disarray
pausing just at the door of the kitchen
(you'll note the graceful avoidance of actually entering at the careful placement of boot toes)
brow lifting at the spoon splinters on the floor"Need me to do anything?"
yes, he helps out in the kitchen, too
(eliza)
"Ya can haul Liza in from wha'ever she's been doin' all mornin' out back."A man in her kitchen? She so does not think so. He'd probably get underfoot anyway, being that is wasn't an ample space and while she knew how she wanted to get everything accomplished, he didn't. No, this wasn't his place to stick himself. Not without getting a firm rap on the knuckles with another one of her wooden spoons. No taste testing!
She wiggles a spoon over her shoulder towards the unlocked back door without looking at the Gnawer, too engrossed with the flipping of eyes and sausages and the like. It looked like it was going to be a herty 'brunch' indeed. Stuffed fat and full and content by the end of it, hopefully.
(dire)
*He sits in the chair licking his chops. Sniffing alot. He turns to look out the window at the mention and his ears rotate forward*(james)
oh no
he didn't expect to be let in to the kitchen
but he knows how to set a table
and a handful of other useful things
and fetching Liza?
no worries there
he can handle that too
much better than fencing off that wooden spoonhe's not about to be cooked breakfast and offer nothing in return
weight shifts and the Gnawer turns
taking a breath before opening the back door
(one.... two..... three... the light! the light!)
squinting at how impossibly bright it is
even in the shadow of the trees
making sure to close the door behind him
shiver running down his spine
(it's cold with a headful of wet dreads)
taking a deep breath
(gah, pine-sol)
but following that hint of Liza's scent(dire)
*He watches though the window. Ears twitching and turning to follow the sound*(eliza)
She'd spent most of the morning at the back of the property, perched among the trees that bled into a patch of thick forestry. She was dressed warmly enough, barely, for the weather outside, the shadows beein cooler than the stream of watery sunlight that warmed James' back during his trek down the length of the 'backyard'.King was nearby, rolled onto his back with his legs in the air (and proving that he was very much NOT an intact male Rottweiler) and his tongue hanging out as he dozed. He'd managed to find a spot where the sun broke through the trees and his stomach was glowing in the warm sliver of sun. Ahhh... the dog's life.
Her hands were splayed, fingers digging into the moist soil around the tree that she sat in front of, had tilted back and resting against the rough barked trunk. Silence. Quiet breathing.
(james)
he figures she heard the door close
he figures she can hear his bootsteps on the frozen ground
he figures she's ample indication of his approach
so he doesn't feel like he's sneaking up on her
even if she can't see himbut he makes a point to catch errant twig beneath his boot
just so that it quietly snapsas relaxed as she seems to be
he doesn't want to surprise her
and tense away all that quietly breathed goodness
his voice soft as the now awake King rolls to look at him"Eliza?"
(dire)
*He watches*(eliza)
"Yes, James?"The timbre of the Gnawers voice was recognizable, like a finger print in her mind, just as others would know the man by his features, she knew him by sound and smell. Although he smelled a lot better now than he had this morning (alcohol reek) when she'd ghosted through the living room past him and the form of Dire still curled up by the fire. She doesn't open her eyes (no need/pointless), but she does pull her fingers out from their sorting carress of the soil and wipe them across the front of her faded jeans (knees long ripped and only just kept out of the darning hands of Mae).
(james)
there's something of a study
of how she recognizes him
of how she reacts to him
while he's pretty able to figure it out
he's simply learning more, now
he's never been around a blind person beforelong body folds to a crouch beside her
hand extended for King to sniff the back
then a quick salutory tickle of fingers over fur"Mae is making breakfast, she wanted me to come outside and get you."
though he's pretty sure Eliza can smell it cooking
he, for sure, can
so perhaps in hand with the question the matron had asked him earlier
he might be catching on there's another reason behind it(dire)
*He snorts and hops up and walks to the door. Paws at it a bit untill some one lets him out and he goes trotting off into the woods for a morning run sort of thing*(zoe saldana)
Silence. . . Always silence here. Always colder here. Always darker here, even in the day. . . but she walked it nontheless, small feet making ever so quiet crunching sounds as she breaks through the snow slightly. . .
crunch crunch crunch
. . . Early daytime wane sunlight fighting winter cloudcover valiantly. She could almost thank it for that effort, even if it wasn't warmer for having it. Thick fleece jacket, long dangling scarf, little gloves, and hiking boots. She was dressed for a walk. . .
(eliza)
She holds out a hand out to him as her only response to the comment about Mae and breakfast.Her expression was unusually sombre, not that is was something that James would necessarily know, being that he had known her for a relatively short amount of time.
(dire)
8his dark paws fly over the snow as he runs. A large ash gray wolf. Not giant sized. he wasn't an overly large man. Just large normal sized wolf which means not small. He runs though the snow like a darking bluur. His nose picks up a scent and soon he spills out on a path turning to follow it*(james)
whatever it is she reaches out for
to silence him, or something he may never know
his hand moves up to reflect
rough and scarred knuckles brushing against her palm
dreads whispering over his sweater as head tilts
boots scuffing as weight settles from crough to sitit's a breif touch - but one nonetheless
he may not have known her for long
he may not know the ins and outs of her personality
but he knows sadness
he knows how emotions make sculptures of faces
even in the most minute of changes"What's wrong?"
fully expecting to be told to mind his own business
his is, after all, a Gnawer
and a stranger(eliza)
"You fight a lot with your hands, don't you?"She answered his question with one of her own, her voice sound contemplative. Some emotions that were held by people can be instinctively felt: misery loves company, as the saying goes. Sadness reaches out to sadness, as those who have felt loss can see the pangs of it in another person, even one they didn't know well. Especially when those people chose not to hide the pain convincingly. She takes the hand that he had brushed against her palm, having heard his movements well and guessing where it would have been lain after the movement. She holds it between her fingers, her thumbs rubbing across the scars and rough skin. It was as if she could read his history through the old lacerations that riddled his skin. Skin tells much.
(james)
"Yeh.... I've boxed, studied Kali."old scars
lacerations
thickened skin of callouses
strong lines of muscle and tendon beneath
skin tells very much
he knows, to her, it reads as braille"Grew up on the streets, drummer, too."
as if narrating the textures she feels beneath as thumbs move
humoring her contemplating switch of directions
the question that answers a question
every road leads somewhere, even if it's not the one you first thought to take
for as much as she sees in him without the benefit if sight
he can see the same, in this careful study
a silent catharsis(eliza)
"You're how old... early-mid twenties?"She cradles his hand between both of hers, thumbs trailing down to the tips of his fingers and then back up, feeling the calousses and rubbing across each scar that she comes across before she lifts his hand, pressing the back of it against one cheek. A whisper of her lips across the knuckles as she turns her head, smelling the linger aftertone of soap before resting her forehead against that upheld hand of his.
"Mae's special: neroli and... hmmm... rosemary... soap. I can smell a hint of it lingering."
(james)
there's a soft, soft laugh
Rune had him pegged as younger than Decker
now Eliza's casting him towards a quarter century"I'll be 22 next spring."
he's sort've glad she can't see the sudden jaw drop
he wasn't expecting that close an inspection
and he's pretty certain she can feel the slight tremble when warm breath casts over his knuckles
he doesn't pull away - that's just the weight of muscle against her hands
the heartbeat traveling through capillaries as they flood skin against her cheek"Yeh."
muuuuch softer now
even shy
she's a stunning woman, no doubt
but there's a beauty in the way she reads him"I had a feeling there'd be no breakfast until after I took a shower."
(eliza)
"Mae can be that way, sometimes. It's best not to argue, I've found."A faint chuckle of sound, brushing her forehead against the back of his hand again before she leans sideways, back sliding against the rough bark of the tree and leans against his crouching figure, head against the round of his shoulder with her eyes still closed. She lowers his hand away from her face, held between her hands still, but now resting in her lap as her fingers curled around his.
(james)
there's that soft laughter again
fond, nostalgic"Momma Ruggs was the same way. We didn't have shower so readily at our disposal.... but I know it's better to obey a matriarch than it is to try your luck at dodging the punishment. She's really fond of you...."
he lets his voice drift away
fairly sure she knows about that
fairly sure she knows where that statement was going to lead
he's startled a little, again, at the sudden closenesshe's well aware he's not the most offensive of the Garou that have been around in the past eighteen hours
but it's still that fact that they're near perfect strangers
and suddenly she's cuddling close
his fingers lace with hers, though
recognizing that need for closeness
even when it's from someone you don't know
sometimes, that's better than anything else"..... and may skin me yet for staying out here while breakfast gets cold."
soft chide
half-feeling they're being watched anyway
and the mame knows what's going on(eliza)
"You're... right."A bare sigh escaping as she pulls away, releasing his hand from her own before she uses the tree as her guide for standing. She brushes her hands across the seat of her jeans then rubs her palms (agitated) down her thighs. King watches, upside down and seeing the world from a whole new perspective, but when his Mistress stands, he does so also. He rolls onto his side and then up, flinging the clinging soil and dead leaves from him with a brisk shake. He pads up to Eliza and leans against her leg till she drops a hand to stroke the flat of his forehead and give one of his ears a soft, affectionate tug.
(james)
oh, that was brilliant, James
and sigh a gruff sigh he stands
dusting off his pants in afterthought
step taken to catch up with herone life-scarred hand reaching
fingers light against the bulk of sweater sleeve"Hey..."
waiting for her to turn
helping out with a gently guiding touch
and the tall Gnawer stands before her
finger crooked beneath her chin
just so she knows exactly where dark eyes are that look into hers
her agitation more than obvious
and his voice still so damn soft"Let it get cold. Talk to me.... or tell me to piss off and I won't bring it up again."
dammit James, why are you getting into the middle of this?
(eliza)
Slowly she opens her eyes, which she hadn't done so, even when she had pulled away and stood up. Deep doe-brown depths stared back at him, but saw nothing. Where emotions may have been reflected in others eyes at a time like this, her own were a blank canvas. Mere color and no more. Nothing to see here... nothing to guess from. It left only body language and sounds. A faint smile tries to grow at the corner of her lips, but doesn't quite make it."Close your eyes."
(james)
she can't see him look back at her
she can't see his study of her blank eyes
(he's never seen eyes like that, it almost unnerves him)
she can't see the flick of his attention down to the attempted smile
slowly, deep umber irses hide behind falling lids"Okay."
(eliza)
"Stand still."She steps back away from her, clicking her fingers so that King followed her at least a yard away from the Gnawer. The Rottie did so willing, although cocked his head, slightly confused as to what was going on.. Eh... crazy monkey-people.
"Keep them closed." she repeats her original request, "Tell me what you see."
(james)
"I don't see anything."a soft, flat statement
silence then reigning between them
then his head slowly tilts
dreads rustling across fabric as they rearrange
and she can hear him take a slow breathdevoid of sight
he opens everything else"I can feel the trees behind me..... and off to the left. I can hear King breathing, and the brush of his fur against your jeans, you're about a yard or so away. I can smell Mae's breakfast over and above the pine-sol. Altogether it creates a mental picture, but I'm not sure if that's what you're getting at."
(eliza)
"Lose the color and what you know things look like: what I look like, the colors of Kings fur, the image of the house."Her voice had moved from where it was before, further away and to one side. She was remarkably quiet at the moment even as King padded after her as she walked around him to another point in the yard.
(james)
"I.... don't know how to do that."his head turns to follow her voice
instinctual to look at someone when you're talking to them
even if he can't conventionally see her"It would just be darkness with sound and smell...."
(eliza)
"Go back in your mind... say... ten years... impose that darkness over everything. Remove the visuals of your memories. Cast aside those thoughts you've had based on what you have seen. For the moment, pretend they aren't real."She continues to move around him again, and not in a continual circle... around once, back slightly in one direction... some steps backwards, then closer then around him another way. It was bound to start getting him vaguely turned around, even for his good hearing to help him along, as he followed her voice by moving himself to match.
(james)
he was just moving his head
but you can bet he's getting a little dizzy
even Garou balance gets thrown off
and he thinks about that
the way her words are constructed
and what they may mean"You weren't born blind, were you...."
(eliza)
"No..." A pause. "There was an accident when I was younger."Silence for a few long moments that seemed to stretch longer in the self-inflicted darkness that James had taken upon himself. She keeps moving around and back and forth, making him lose track of which way was what, especially as he concentrated on what she was saying, rather than outside disturbances.
"Now imagine having two beautiful children and not being able to picture, clearly, the color of their hair... not seeing their first steps... not seeing the way they smile at you. Or the pictures that they draw, just for you, forgetting in their enthusiasm that you won't be able to see the green suns and pink dogs and the yellow house."
Another pause. More movement.
"Remove all your close friends and family, then blot out your lovers and partners."
(james)
too bad she can't see the sardonic smirk
he's done that before, just not in the way she's requesting now
he's stopped following her movements
now just facing straight ahead"At least you have your children."
struck a chord there, didn't she
"What're you getting at."
(eliza)
"Not all of them..."Buttons can be pushed by both sides, without knowing it, especially when so little was known about one another. It was just a fact of conversation.
"You asked me what was wrong... I'm showing you. Piece by piece."
(james)
there's a nod
then he remembers himself
he's only being shown
they haven't traded places
and he just drops the kid thing"I understand."
(eliza)
A length of silence before he can feel her presence, the warmth of another body (two if you count King) up close to his. Less than a foot away. Enough to feel the rush of breath across her face. To smell the faint hint of spices, the cling of small children, and a presence of aromatic oils. He might flinch, not expecting it, but she touches one of her hands against his cheek. Sort and gentle. Just resting there, barely brushing his skin."My world is this world."
Touch, smell and sound... in a society where casual touch wasn't always welcome and with most of those that she knew, was taken the wrong way and unwelcome (thank you Decker).
(james)
he doesn't flinch
he doesn't pull away
he doesn't recoil from her touch
he seems rather comfortable in it
the casual touch now that he understandshe would say something
but he's been in this situation before
he knows there's nothing to say that offers the proper consolation
because even though he understands it?
it happend to her
not himso a hand lifts
not as confident in aim as hers
a slow tickle of fingers up her dropped arm
rouch edges catching the fabric of her sleeve then shoulder
the gentle touch against cheek returned(eliza)
He can feel the lift of her cheek in a faint smile that he can't see at the moment, tilting her head into the palm of his hand. The gesture helps somewhat, some of the humming tension that had surrounded her, even resting back against the tree at the lower end of the garden, abating.(james)
that's when he lifts his other hand
to feel the faint smile curving against his palm
now both hands cup her cheeks
and his eyes open"I know how lonely you feel."
but he doesn't say anything more about it
he doesn't explain what it is that makes him ache
just an arm that curves around her shoulders
turning her towards the house
hiw voice a low murmur"C'mon.... Mae's glaring at me breakfast is getting cold..."
[fade out]
Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 12, 2002.12.12.02. - shift.....up? [eliza-petar-simon-decker-dire](eliza)
King had retreated to his patch under the coach, wedging himself under there and watching the three shifters at the table warily.Lila sat on James' lap, hands reached out so that she hold onto the ends of different dreads, bunching them together and then letting them all go, watching them spring back into place with a delighted smile. Dreads were bound to be amusing to a small child, especially when her own dark curly hair was somewhat fluffy at the moment, having been recently washed and blow dryed, what with the weather being the way it was. She yawns widely and rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand, but looked like she was trying to stay awake out of sheer stubborness. It was highly likely that she would be soon fast asleep, using James as a warm, living pillow. She stares after Rune on her way out then returns her attention to James' hair and face, which is occasionally graced with the presence of 'Rounie' giving him 'toy kisses' on the cheeks and neck.
When Rune rises to leave after draining the second drink that was brought, she nods and smiles slightly, her eyes still having that vaguely blank look to them that showed no signs of emotion and thoughts to the other woman. Eliza folds herself back into her chair after placing a drink in front of Petar. She cradles her own in both hands, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip.
"Take care, Rune."
(james)
those dark eyes evenly watch through the introduction
well? at least he's not a Lord
close enough, but not bad enough
and the raggedyman extends a hand in black knit at-one-point-not-but-now-fingerless glove"James Branson, Drums on Skulls, Cliath Bone Gnawer Fullmoon."
he avoids the quip that comes to the tip of his tongue
instead, reaching to take the cash from his packmate"Thanks."
there's something in his eyes
there's something in his grin
it's for a lot more than the cab-fare home
infinitely patient with the child
he knows she's going to fade out soon, and fast
but at least he can stay here a little longer
fingers tapping against his glass in thanks to Elizaand this one? he drinks
slowly(petar)
...not a Lord.....
If only Petar knew James' thoughts.
But he smiles at the introduction, and at the child, and he spares Rune not a glance as she leaves, his eyes remain on his drink. The glass is lifted to his lips and he sips it slowly, like an amateur might, and sits it back down. "There are many Garou here in this place?" He questions quietly, to any that might wish or think to answer his question. He, much like Lila, rubs at his eyes a bit tiredly.....which makes him look all the more younger.
Split seemings, night and day ....wicked changes.(eliza)
Her eyes lift from her drink, sliding in the direction of James. She figured, even though he was city bred, he may know of more Garou than she was. Any that he might leave out, she could fill in, but it was shifter business, in a way, what they were discussing, and therefore not entirely her business. Or so many Garou kept telling their 'little' cousins.She loosens one hand from around her glass, using the free fingers to tug some errant spiral curls away from her cheeks and behind one ear.
James wasn't too far off from his thoughts on just how soon Lila would begin to fade as she curls up against him, legs tucked under her and against one of his legs and her small head resting against his chest. One hand clucthes Rounie and the other held fast onto the end of one of his errant dredlocks.
(james)
if only
if only they knew each other's thoughts
if only the met on the streets and not in this place of peace
things might be different
or, they might notand muscles in his thighs stretch
tank boot toes pressing against the hardwood floor
tilting the chair back a bit
making it a bit more level for Lila to lay
so she can rest against his chest
instead of having her head slide down and wake her up every time she tries to doze off
chin tilting in a slow nod"Depends on where you look, have a number out in the Barrens, quite a few Urrah up north. What brought you our side, Petar?"
a demure Fang
now this is priceless
why ain't someone videotaping this for posterity?(simon bobtail)
*THough the night the dark black wolf slinks.. back to the cabin he'd scouted before. peeking at it from behind the small building out back he sniffs the air. Differing scents preveiled. All layered on top of one another. So he slinks closer. A shadow across the snow as he moves twords the back proch*(petar)
"My sister and I are coming to America for the first time..." He pauses, as if contemplating the idea that that was not a complete answer to James' question. "....visitng. Elora and I are visiting..." His hands hold gingerly the glass and he takes another sip.....demure....yes. Most assuredly. He's not quite submissive, but his air and demeanor border on 'inexperienced' perhaps.
The Gnawers keen eyes might, if they were laid upon the Fang just so, a scar that funs the gamut of Petar's neck. From one side to the other, the scar is pronounced and noticeable, even to those without the bright perception Garou are blessed with. But, Eliza cannot see this, and he does not seem as shy with Rune gone from the Cabin.(eliza)
The back porch light wasn't turned on, but there was light illuminating it well enough from the kitchen window. A faint hum of voices can be heard, indistinguishable as seperate words, more an incessant buzz of sound that intermingled with the faint sound of panpipes and hollow drums that was the music that flowed quietly from the living room stereo, creating a backdrop of sound during the lulls in conversation.Eliza merely listens to the men talking, sipping her drink and staring down at the top of the table top with eyes devoid of emotion or the passing of thought, but her expression was vaguely thoughtful.
(simon)
*He slinks up on the porch. A black wolf. Compact and a bit stocky. Easily lost in shadow with it's inky blackness. Would be perfect except for something missing. Ears more acute than a humans perk up as he sniffs quietly around the door. The little Manx tail wags rapidly as he smells PURE BLOOD*
(james)
if he noticed it
he doesn't bring it up
if he's drawn any conclusions after his packmate departed
he's keeping them to himself
he's Gnawer, but he's not uncouth
and there some things you just don't talk about when children are present
even if they're asleep
instead just nodding
slow flex and curl of muscle keeping the tilted chair at slow rock"There's an Athro out in the woods, easy enough to find.... or he'll find you, if you visit long enough. My pack's territory is up North State."
idle conversation over the idle music, right?
though his eyes flick to the back porch
the snuffling from under the door
there's a sound in his throat, directed at King
he doesn't want the dog barking and waking up Lila"Can you get that?"
nodding at Petar
his hands are full
and Eliza seems so comfortable
she's already answered the door so many times tonight(petar)
Reduced to errand boy....how....nice.
He smiles and nods, slowly and quietly getting up from his chair he moves towards the back door, leather boots creaking in protest. Hand on knob, the door is pulled open and with one brow arched in question, dark blue eyes swarm over the black night before him and then the porch below him.
(eliza)
Even quietly, the weight of the wolf on the back porchboard causes slight creaks and groans as the chilled wood shifted under the change in pressure. The snuffling sound of an animal at the back door. It was all things that the acute hearing of King's ears could percieve. His head comes out from under the couch, his forehead frames by the tassles so that it looked like he was wearing a bizarre tiara of some sort. He snorts and grunted as he wrenched his enormous frame out and went at the back door, nails clicking on the floor boards. He sniffed back at the visitor, smelling canine, more pointedly wolf... A growl, lips peeling back. They didn't come from the back often. A bark, regardless of what James was hoping for otherwise. Skitters back, claws clicking on the floor, and huffs at the door as he sneezes away the smell of wolf out of his nose. Oh god, not again... not another...When Petar opens the door he is standing there in it, hackles up, trying to make out the perputrator of the investigation.
Lila gave a plaintive whine in her sleep as the bark startles her, her lower lip trembling and her eyes screwing up. It was late and she had stayed up beyond her bedtime and to be rudely woken up... just didn't sit well with the little girl... the whine broadens and lengthens into what became a plaintive, pitiful wail that was grating on the ears of those not used to a child crying.(simon)
*His head low as he smells another approaching the door. Those pheromones unmistakeable.The Door opened and reveiling a stocky black wolf. Seeing the Dog challenging him his lips peel back and his own hackels rise. He's silent. Silent as the grave but his own rage flows though in his pale green eyes. Dismissing the dog he looks up further to the source of half of the pure blood he smells. There is no mistaking that smell or that look. Petar was Pure and Simon knows it. Even as his hackels rise for the dog he's judging the fang before him.*
(james)
sup with the lower tribes and be treated like one of them, Petar
isn't that what your brothers and sisters warned you about?and the wail is right. in. his. ear.
by the Gnawer's expression
those eardrums are vibrating quite painfully
(oh. my. god.)
it makes his teeth hurtbut above it all
he stays perfectly calm
save the withering glare at King
it's all gone when he turns back to the child"Hey now..... ssccchhhh.... you just met me tonight, Lila, you're not allowed to deafen me until after the 72 hour waiting period.... hush now....."
basically murmuring nothing and everything at the girl until she quiets
(petar)
Ah ... Pure but not overwhelmingly so....
He stares down at the wolf, then the Rot, then back at the two at the table. "........you want me to let the wolf in?" It sounds rather strange....yet the words ease from his lips in that sharp accented English. Dark hair, boyish good looks......charming.(eliza)
Eliza stands quickly but smoothly, her hand catching the back of her chair as it starts to fall backwards at the rapid movement and she pulls it back and to one side, out of her way. She reaches across the table to where she knew Lila was curled up upon James' lap. Her hand brushes over the Gnawer's arm and touches her daughter's back."Shhhhh..."
Very soft, very quiet and then she closes her eyes for a brief moment, exhaling a long breath. An overwhelming sense of peace sweeps over James and surrounds Eliza like a warm blanket that flowed outwards from her in a silent aura of peace. As much as the change in sensation rushes over her daughter, encapsuling her in a comforting embrace from the mere touch of a hand, the peace slithers through James, twining around his rage and dampening it to a lull within his veins. HIs rage just seems to... abate... just as Lila's overwrought state subsides. The little girl sniffles, but relaxes completely and limply in James' arms, falling asleep almost instantly.
She finally takes another breath, her eyelids fluttering before she cocks her head to one side, hearing Petar's question and purses her lips.
"If it is a cousin, ask them to shift up, please. I don't want a fight between my dog and a wolve in my house."
(simon)
*His pale greens flickering back down to the Rot his head rises. Damn if some dog was going to dominate him. Hackes still raises. Lips peeled back. Ears flat aginst his head. He's yet to make a sound and his short manx tail is sticking straight out and bristled*
(james)
he just.... blinks.... at the touch
he knows he's only had a few sips of the screwdriver?
but goddamn it kicked in
confusion in deep umber as they raise in question to Elizaof course, she can't see the question
but it's there!she musta done something
he's just about to meeeeelt into that chair
and he slithers down into it a little bit more
uh, for the child's comfort, and all
as she goes right back to sleep
as he? is feeling damn goooooood
it's more than said in that grin that's spread over his faceRock on, Eliza, rock on....
murmuring softly"Might want to use it on our new friend over there, he's challenging tha King...."
he's had some bong rips that haven't even been this good
(petar)
He frowns and looks between wolf and dog, dog and wolf. "......um" Not quite that helpful when dealing with the lupus, now is he? Perhaps this is more James' cup of tea. "Shift ... up?" He says, almost as if he were rubbing a magical lamp, and expecting results from just a command. He is Royalty after all, right?(simon)
*He waits in the doorway. About to bite off the dogs face if he don't back off. He looks up at the one standing before him. Sniffing as he does so. Noone's addressed him directly. hince his lack of doing anything. He watches Petar and looks back to the one still standing before him.As Petar speaks his eyes flicker back to him and as the garou speaks he steps back.
His form growing. Musel mass adding on. Expanding bones as the stocky black wolf becomes a monster version of itself. A supersized big gulp of a hispo and then further up to crinos. It's inky black fur springing out to added length as he does so. He pauses there and looks down at the man and the Rott and speaks in quiet High tongue* "This better?" * he's not purposefully trying to be scary, it's just an involentary aspect fo what he is.*
(james)
he can't help the laugh
he seriously can't
head shaking
that is a Fang?
why didn't he just say "open sesame" and see where it went
his chin lifts to call out a bit
loud enough for them to hear, but not enough to disturb the child"Homid... like the rest of us, so you can step inside and stop letting the heat out and quit freakin' out the dog."
(eliza)
King howls, as to be expected from a normal (nonKin) animal and backpeddles into Petar's legs, throwing the Fang off balance probably in the process and runs from the kitchen door, thudding into the back of James' chair on his way past straight for a known hiding spot. Why did they always have to do that??Eliza had nodded faintly to James' comment, stroking Lila's head with a hand. Luckily she hadn't really started to move towards the kitchen till aftr King took his very sound retreat. He clipped her legs, though, on his passing and she lost some of her balance, catching herelf with a hand and part of her weight against James' shoulder and side. She was trying to keep from falling altogether, because that would mean onto James, which also meant onto Lila. Lila, being her prime concern.
She regains her stance and composure and stalks (yes stalks) into the kitchen, hand out to touch Petar's shoulder and move him to one side. She can't see the crinos, but judging by the heat it gave off from it's sheer weight... well...
"Learn some manners and try again."
And shuts the door on the crinos' form, leaning back against it. She didn't say he couldn't try again soon, but right now? Her dog was petrified and her daughter had been reduced to tears only a few moments before.
(simon)
*he bends down to peer though the door and nods slowly. His form shrinking. Not that he really cares about the dog. But it wasn't really made clear. he'd shifted UP as much as he could after all. he slips past glabro and his clothes mystically appear there. On down to Homid. A slender man with broad shoulders. Pale skin, dressed in black tall boots, olie pants with a rust colored stripe and an olive long coat that hangs to his knees with the same Rust colored accents. Hands clad in fingerless gloves come up to flip a rust colored cowl up. Sheilding his eyes in shadow. He's quite surprised with the woman shuts the door. For a spit second he conciders just punching though it and ripping her head from her body. Then again.. that wouldn't really be social. He arks a slender black brow and tilts his head. Severly confused. He looks to the left and the right and behind him and back to the door. The hand clad in the fingerless glove coming up to gently tap.After all it wasn't HE that made the child cry, it was her own dog. He's quite unsure why she is expressing anger at HIM for simly coming up.*
(petar)
The wolf-man shifts. The door hauls it away. He's nearly knocked down and for a moment, a flicker flash of something beyond that calm man-boy can be seen. A dark shadow of some other self that threatens to devour the cause of his unhappiness. Royalty. He can feel ,then, Eliza's hand on his shoulder and he manages to steady himself quickly. He still wears his coat....and the door is shut...and the wolf is on the other side....and the child is calm....and Petar slowly and quietly wanders over to his chair and downs his drink....that brief insight into something beyond the glass exterior is gone as quickly as it came.
"I should be going....thank you very much for your hospitality...."(james)
he reaches a hand to help steady Eliza as well as keep his own chair from tipping completely back
he watches the door slam in the shifting manmonsterman's face
glancing down to the bundle cradled on belly and chest
damn, that's a cool gift
kid slept right through itand while it seems like the Gnawer is simply suddenly stoned off his ass
he's just quietly observing now
watching the Fianna kin in her blood driven temper
watching the Fang.... boy... in his changing glass house
watching the door from behind whih is the tapping.... wolfmanthing
even peering over and watching the Rottweiler hidden beneath the couch for a moment(eliza)
She takes a long deep breath, facing Petar by the table because her back was against the door. She nods and smiles faintly, because as he was reigning in his temper she was reigning in her own."My house is always open, should you wish to visit again, Petar."
That being said she turns and opens the door, slightly, and leans against the doorframe, her body taking up most of the space of the opening of the door that was between the open kitchen and the porch.
"Not tonight." A deep breath and a slow exhalation. Fianna Temper. Control. Returning. Slowly. Calming. Calming... "I think my dog will have a heartattack if I let you in at the moment. I'm sorry."
She'd be spending the next day or two trying to coax the poor Rottweiler out, having been half scared out of his wits by the invocation of the Delirium.
(simon)
*He looks at the Kin. A KIN actually telling him No and he's amused. Still when in Roam and all that. His head tilts to the side and his voice comes out soft. Quiet. Not at all threatening or frightening* I don't understand... I merly did as I was asked...... and you express anger? * his tone betraying honest confusion. They didn't say to the wolf "Shift to homid" they said "Shift UP" and he had done so. Wasn't HIS fault their request scared the shit out of the dog.*(petar)
He scratches at the back of his head and nods, bows slightly to the pair of them. One who can see the gesture, the other who cannot. "I apologise for the trouble I seem to have caused..." Work it...work it...work ...it "My sister will be here tomorrow.....I should go begin to settle in...." Into that dirty, terrible, rustic, nasty shanty the hillbillies here call home... With that he turns to go.....his hands back in his pockets again until he reaches the door to open it.(eliza)
"Everyone knows that shifting in front of an animal - especially one that isn't Kin - incites the Delirium. As for trying to pick a fight with my dog? Ugh. No comment."She takes another deep breath and slowly exhales it, still trying so amn hard to not just shut the door again.
"I apologise if Petar's request was no phrased properly for you, or explicitly enough, but I am going to have enough trouble getting my dog out as it is without you coming in at the moment. If you wish to come back another day, that would be fine. So long as you come in homid."
(james)
you will notice the Gnawer is as silent as the sleeping child
waving a bit at Petar as he leaves
damn that smile looks genuinehe's in a safehouse
all differences are set aside
course, he probably couldn't bristle right now if he had to(simon)
*he frowns a bit as he looks at her. Her words were mocking and few baited a garou with out risk.Taking a moment he composes himself and looks for the words in english. As his speaks his baltic accent shows though a bit*
You were the one that told Petar to request my shifting I belive. Can I be held to blame for respecting a hosts wishes?
As for it being phrased... properly * he srugs gently his sholders rolling slightly* I dont know that it was phrased wrongly. Just not in a way that indicates what you wanted. When you requested Homid It's what I've given.If you hold so much malice for those of us not... blessed... to be born human I will go and apoligise for bothinring you. The kin of my homelad don't hold such vehemiant predjusts aginst us. I was told that here in america it was even less so. * his words betraying the hurt at being condimed because homid wasn't his birth form*
(petar)
The Get passes a very nice SUV. Expensive thing, that is more for flash than off road traveling. There's an emblem of some sort on the front of the hood....Benz....BMW....Cadillac...who knows. He's ducking out the door, a man-boy of no more than 20 perhaps, with dark thick hair and sharp angled features. His pure breed is senses, his bearing is regal .... royal....his gait expresses more than words ever possibly could. I'm.Goddamned.Roaylty. He starts walking towards the cabin he'd rented for his sister and himself .... head bowed a bit.(decker)
Groceries. Again.Pack truck held a lot in the bed. It's not full by any means, but there's a four or five loaded bags there, juices and meat and bread and vegetables and some runt-sized winter fruit. Outside that, vaguely hemming it in on all sides: home improvement equipment. Boards, nails, handsaws, the like. Nothing too expensive or too fancy. God knows what he wanted it for, because it sure as hell wasn't for Eliza.
But the groceries were. So the Tacoma crunches up in the gravel driveway, engine roaring, and the headlights sweep across the door. Eliza, Simon.
A stranger.
Great. More company. On top of all that he was pretty sure he felt James inside, too. The truck falls silent and the groceries stay where they are for the moment, as the Modi, dressed for winter, gets out of the truck's cab and crunches his way up the drive, easily heard. And if Eliza didn't know him by his particular thug's gait by now, coupled with his hellstorm presence (gibbous moon. waxing rage.), she never will.
So there's no greeting.
(eliza)
Oh, that was a good thing. Tell her that she was prejudice when she was already obviously in a bad enough mood as it was. A lot she could take, yes, but now, at the moment?
"I. Have. No. Problem. With. Nonhomids."
She spoke very carefully, and not in a way that said she was trying to be insulting in insinuating he was stupid, but in a way that indicated she was trying very hard not to be rude and slam the door in his face.
"I have a small to take care of and a dog to haul out from under the furniture. I'm sorry. I'm too busy to deal with this at the moment."
And with that, a polite enough goodbye, all things considered, she shut the door quietly and then turned and walked away.
Straight past James and her sleeping child and to the front door, which she opened and then turned and walked away without saying anything to Decker. A silent, blunt invitation to enter. Before she went back to the kitchen and poured herself a drink. A very strong one. Which she downed in one mouthful before pouring another one. She took this one, however, back to the table and sat down.
(simon)
*He stands there wondering what the hell a Small was and why she had to take care of it. Baltic was hard enough to learn after High tongue but apperently English was defeating him. ANd he'd thought he had a firm grasp on it. He blinks as she basicly kicks him out and tells him not to come back unless he's human and then in the next breath says she has no problem with them. It doesn't make sence. Either she does or she doesn't....(decker)
The Fang, on the other hand, passes a pretty nice truck. Brand-new, all the fancy trims, but a Toyota Tacoma when it comes down to it. Not an Escalade, nothing like that. Judging by the Get's secondhand clothing and that particular and peculiar mark of poverty practically branded upon him (like a sort of human purebreed to match his Garou purebreed - because that was there as well, and strong: the cursed blood of his father), he didn't buy it. Either he stole it, or it's not his, period.It happens to be the latter in this case, but the former is just as likely.
Passing Petar, Decker's eyes are on the other, wind-narrowed, grey as thunderheads: a critical, judging stare, and not the slightest bit friendly. No grunted greeting, no nod, either. Pleasant, he is. Really. There's no challenge issued, though; no question of what he was doing here. His stake in this place is a loose one at best; nonexistent, for all intents and purposes.
He just brought her groceries.
(james)
yep
he's just sitting there
call him pillow James
he doesn't really look over as Decker pulls up
just like with Rune earlier
he knew who was at the doora brow lifts out of habit as she sits down
curious
but he just sips at his spiked juice
....right.(petar)
Decker is spared a brief glance. The cold is not a bother to Petar, he is used to it. The heat come summer, if he is still here....that will be another issue all together. The young Russian makes his way to the apartment, his eyes never leaving the path he has set for himself towards his new Gaia. Help.Me home.(simon)
*He blinks as she basicly kicks him out and tells him not to come back unless he's human and then in the next breath says she has no problem with them. It doesn't make sence. Either she does or she doesn't....
and she still seems to be pissed off that her dog got scared when he did EXACTLY what she TOLD him to do to come inside.He scraches his head. This is a strange place.
"DO this!!"
"HOW DARE YOU DO THAT????"
He blinks and looks at the door and around the porch. It made his teeth ake or was that because he was grinding them. He moves over and sits on a rail Watching though the window. Eyes hidden by the shadow cast by the cowl but his perplexed look is still clear.
Mayby understading thes humans was just beyond him or something.... He did what they asked and the little female yelled at him and acted offended.... if they didn't want him to do it, why ask? He was content in the smaller form he was in. All very confusing he reaches up and scraches his head again watching them*
(decker)
"James," for his packmate, there is a grunted greeting, while Decker crosses the threshold of the door, which stays open behind him, letting the precious warmth out. Another penetrating glance for the Bone Gnawer, and then:"You look...real happy."
(james)
now, when Decker gets close enough
there's a quirked grin for a greeting
still parked out at that half chair tilted back angle with Lila asleep on his belly/chesthappy?
none of his packmates have ever seen him this content
no matter how drunk or stoned or fuckered he's been
this is a contentment that comes from one's soul
and it's not just the errant effects of the gift
he was like this before
when Rune was here
she saw it too
for once?
that hollowness that haunts his eyes is completely gone"More than I have been for a long time."
there's a tip of his skull back towards the door
the loaded Tacoma outside"Want a hand unloading?"
(eliza)
"Shut the door, Decker."This from Eliza as she also sat at the table, hands wrapped tightly around her glass. Why bother with orange juice this time? It was straight vodka. Probably more than James could handle on a good day. Decker, well, he could hold his liquor. He'd shown he could in the past. She closed her eyes, dropping her head down slightly so that the curls fell forward over her shoulders. A deep breath. Fianna tempers, you have to love them once they have been provoked. Regardless of whether a person thought it was right or not.
"She still sleeping soundly?"
She finally looks back up, eyes opening and sliding from where she knew Decker to be over to James, who cradled her youngest.
(simon)
*he just watches though the window. Thwe waning moon Ragabash. A small sinister smile starts growing on his lips*(decker)
A cool flick of a glance shot at Eliza. Don't tell me what to do."Groceries," he says, simply, but of course James has already asked the question. Another grunt. Obviously, Eliza told him. Wonder what she said. Decker eyes James, startlingly astute eyes scanning for signs of shit-talk underneath all that contentment. Finding none, the Modi shrugs. "Naw I got it." A flickered glance toward the kid. "Look like you got yer hands full."
James and his kids, man. Decker didn't understand that feel. Paternal instinct, after all, is acquired whereas maternal instinct is innate - excepting Rune and Imogen. Turning, the Modi tromps back out to fetch the things from the truck's bed. Bags rustle as he comes back up the stairs and into the house, this time kicking the door shut behind him.
(simon)
*He watches Decker though the window. Perched all spider like on the railing out back. He sniffs the air a few times and snors. Sitting quietly and watching*(eliza)
Lila whimpers in her sleep when the door shuts loudly, helped along by Decker's boot on his way back in. At least this time, wrapped in her mother's gift, she doesn't startled awake and start crying that thin piercing wail again. That would be the last thing they needed.Eliza winces slightly at the noise and it is probably a good thing that she couldn't see that cool glance that Decker had awarded her with prior to heading back out and then in with the groceries.
(james)
that's the difference between the two full moons
for Decker it's an acquired taste he's just not ready for
for James it's innate, it's the way he was raised
or maybe it's the face he was a parent, for a short while
and even years later the instinct hasn't ebbedthere's a bit of a frown as the door slams
"Yeh.... think she'll stay put this time, though... which room is it?"
slowly weight shifts to go from sit to stretching stand
(simon)
*The dark eyes and upper face hidden by the shadow cast by the rust colored cowl. THe bottom of his pale face still revieled. He watches. looks to the little girl. The mother. The two garou. He watches in silence. In darkness. In shadow and he waits*(eliza)
"First on the left."A smile of appreciation for James, that he'd take the sleeping tyke back to her room and put her back to bed. Hopefull, she'd sleep through the rest of the night and into the morning, after such a night of excitment. It would be much easier, after all, for James to put her away, what with Lila's hand wrapped into his hair tightly. Better he try to extricate her clutch, than for her to be lifted, pulled, and carried away by another figure.
"Thank you, James."
(decker)
Decker starts for the table. Notes the three sitting at it like some sort of modern nativity scene. Notes the child whimpering in her sleep with a tightening of his eyebrows. Never in his life would he be able to hold a sleeping child the way James does. He's too angry, too blistering with rage in a way that transcended boundaries of human and feral. Supernatural, his anger, and overwhelming.Children - and many adults, many kin, many Garou even - inevitably grew discomfited by his presence.
He veers toward the kitchen instead, dumps all the groceries on the counter, and turns to wash his hands at the sink - not because they were dirty, but because hot water would thaw his fingers out. That's when he looks up and -
- Hello.
Disbelief passes over his features an instant before he reaches over the sink with a dripping hand and pushes the window open so fast that if Simon doesn't jerk back, it'll crash into his nose. A beat of silence.
"The fuck you lookin' at?"
(james)
"No problem, Eliza.... least I can do for your hospitality."she can't see the grin
but she can hear it
punctuated by the soft sounds of his boots down the hallway
finding the right room
and oh. so. carefully. extricating his dreadlock from sleeping deathgrip
(think your kung fu's pretty good, uh?)
and after making sure the child settles
he heads back outthat's about when he hears Decker's question
here we go again.
(decker)
And...
no habla espanol.
...more staring."Yeah?" The correlation between scaring a dog and looking in the window escapes the Modi, who reaches down halfmindedly to slap the tap off. Water sluices down strong fingers that curl into loose fists, braced at the edge of the counter. "So?"
(eliza)
She waits till Jame is passing by her, her head laid down on folded arms. She'd heard the question Decker had demanded in the kitchen. She mutters under her breath, one hand slowly running up and down the outside of her glass."He didn't leave did he?"
(simon)
So the little one said I couldn't come in. Said she needed to pull the dog from under a couch or something. Said she only wanted to converse with homids. * he srugs, rolling the broad shoulders under the jacket* Si I can't come in but I thought I would observe.... so as not to some how anger her again by doing what she asks..... I was in Lupus... she and the other said for me to shift up. So I did.... the dog was frightened and she's mad. I haven't quite figured it out yet but I'm trying to understand.(james)
instead of moving back to the table
he hangs out in the hallway
and finding their new friend is still around
he moves on up by his packmateand finally catches that accent
this? should be delightful
(let's hear it for that well-timed calming gift)"Dogs don't get along with wolves, most of the time, especially Rottweilers which were bred to hunt them if they came down to attack herd animals."
a hand runs through and rearranges ropey dreads
"It was all a misunderstanding and miscommunication. You did exactly as you were asked, yes, and you're right, what you were asked ended up not being what was wanted. But it terrified the dog and got tempers raised. She told you to come back another time when everybody was more calm... so do that. Rather than observe and maybe catch on, come back another time, in homid so you don't scare the dog, not because she doesn't want to talk to you in any form, and then we can sort things out, allright?"
(decker)
Cold air's rushing in through the gaping window, raising the hairs on his arms. For all that, the Modi stands like stone, and the frown only deepens. Had this been a week earlier, he might've been vaguely, evenly sardonically amused. Might even think Simon was staring in through the window hoping to get a glimpse of the kinfolk (a looker, for sure) when she stripped down to get into bed. Hell, isn't that why most people spy?Too bad past the halfmoon, his miniscule sense of humor ceased to exist. Blankly, "'N you thought starin' like some sorta nutcase ain't gonna anger her."
Then James comes up and Decker glances at the Bone Gnawer, listening to the tale told with a vague noise of acknowledgment.
(simon)
*his head can'ts to the side as he listens to James. A slow look of understanding crossing his features. He nods slowly as that makes infinatly more sence in english than what he's been told so far. His own rage high and he nods again as he reprocesses what James says finding words there he could accept. He hops, actually moving closer a foot as he does so to hop off the rail. Landing on his toes he slowly lowers down to the heels of his feet. His motions quiet and graceful. He tilts his head looking back the other way to Decker. The voice with the thick but intelligentable accent comes again* To be honest I didn't think watching though a window would be preceived by a blind human. My intenion was not to bother her. Simply understanding. * he nods and then nods deeply to James and looks back to Decker.* Sorry if I frightened you. * His hand, clad in a fingerless glove reaches back to grasp the rail and turning the man hops ot landing in a courchl again on his toes. One might expect him to shift and dart into the night as qa wolf but he slowly rises. broad shoulders, slender hip. the olive and rust colors being easily misplaced in shadow and darkness as he heads away though the back yard*(eliza)
She stands up, finishing her drink in a long swallow (Fianna and their drinking, huh?) and pushes the chair out of the way. She enters the kitchen, but doesn't even 'glance' in the direction of Simon, for if the boys hadn't noticed him, she durely probably wouldn't have unless he had made some noise. It was a small kitchen, which, with three people in it, made in somewhat cramped (or cosy... whatever). She can't help but brush past James and Decker as she reaches around them for the bottle of vodka.(decker)
Simon had a point with the blind thing. Decker, however, didn't often think things out from the other person's point of view.As the lithe man heads away, the Modi shrugs. Don't be a stranger, y'all......or not. He simply reaches forward, grabs the window, and slams it shut again.
There. Much warmer. Since it's getting a little crowded in the kitchen, Decker backs out of there. Bags rustle on the counter from the breeze as he moves past. The fridge door swings open on his way, and he snags some sort of beverage from it. Whatever his fingers brushed first. Whatever's in there.
(james)
there's a bit of a grin
there's a bit of a wave
(have fun stormin' the castle)
there's a bit of a turn and press back against the counter for Eliza to make her way past
the peeping-Lord basically disregarded for now
at least things got cleared upand he edges back out to the table
taking up his drink and draining the glass a little more
but not quite as vehemently as Eliza
he can being to keep up with beer
if he tries to even begin to keep up with hard liquor?
he's not walking out of here tonight(eliza)
She catches the closing door of the fridge after Decker has grabbed something for himself out of it and her finger tips run across the containers till she finds the one with small brail inprinted on the top of the plastic, lidded jug and pulls it out. Jug in one hand, bottle of chilled vodka in the other, she also returns to the table. She places the things in her hands on the center of the table before sitting. She then carefully begins to pour herself a drink. Not as strong as before, but well... stronger than was usual."Thank you."
She looks up from the glass in front of her, at where she knew Decker to be seated, when she speaks, before her eyes lower to the glass again. She idly runs her finger up and down the side of the glass, her brows knitted together slightly in a faint impression of a frown of thought.
(james)
for a spell, he watches the juice in his glass
swirling the last bit around into a nice orange whirlpool
but there's really so long you can contemplate the mysteries of a screwdriver
and that's when he glances up
blinks
and looks right back down againyep.
mysteries of the universe.
orange.
right.fuggit
he drains the rest
he may have the body weight to counter it
but he's still working on that tolerance thing
settling the empty glass back on the table softly(eliza)
"Drink?"She tilts her glass towards the bottle or vodka and jug of orange juice on the table, indicating them both to James and giving him free reign to help himself as he so chose to. She knew the hollow glass against wood, no matter how softly he had attempted to put it back down. Her hearing was exceptional, a compensation for her lacking what most people considered the dominant sense of sight.
(decker)
The Modi's made himself at home at Eliza's table, his presence unwinding into the air like blood in water. His drink, as it turns out, is a carton of OJ -Yeah. A whole carton.
- and as Eliza thanks him, his grey eyes flicker up. A half-frown sketched over his brow, all the more frequently seen the closer one gets to the full, he stares at her for a moment. It's a stare that has a weight even the blind can feel, unnerving, and then he shrugs and lifts the carton of juice to drink straight from the mouth. Couldn't be more than a glass and a half left in there anyway.
"Fer what?" - not honest curiosity, but simply something to say to deflect her gratitude. Then he happens to glance out the window at the truck: something that happens more often than you'd think. Growing up the way he did, he learned to keep an eye on precious commodities and possessions lest someone steals it, and old habits die hard.
He sees: big green cap. Big blue crowbar. Big black truck, shiny new paint. Suddenly the carton bangs down on the table and the Modi gets up ("Fuck."), toppling his chair, and stomps to the door; throws it open with a crack of wood on wood like a gunshot.
"The fuck you doin' to my truck, Dire?"
(james)
there's a bit of a grin
again, she can't see it
but he's sure she can hear it
he doesn't doubt how excellent her hearing is
chuckling softly"Rune was right, you know, if I start drinking I'll have to be carried home."
flat out cringing as the Modi explodes from the table
this shouldn't be good
but he doesn't get up
he doesn't particularly want to meet whom he now knows is outside(eliza)
James wasn't the only one who cringed at Decker's less that subtle exit (when is he ever subtle though?) and shakes her head slightly. She lifts her head, eyes moving off the glass in front of her as she leans back in her chair, holding the glass in one hand and trailing patterns in the condensation on it with the other."You think Decker would be a sweetheart and carry you if you got legless?"
When would Decker ever be a sweetheart. She was using the fact that the Modi had stormed outside and his attention was on Dire's stalk of his truck to slip the comment in. She could feel his temper, knew the Rage was up and running, so she wouldn't have said such if he'd been at the table.
[wolf. passing. out. about. now.]
[james npc'd to passs out, and sometime later, from decker's blog]
Decker Rohl
Fri 06:17AM EST
He gets up almost at the same time the kin does, and his eyes follow Eliza down the hall until Dire speaks. A careless glance at James, considering. "If I don't, he got a long walk in front o' him." That said, the Modi heads over to the couch and - just as James predicted might happen - kicks the cushion under James' head. THUMP.As the Bone Gnawer looks up groggily, he says, "Leavin'. You comin'?"
Dire
Fri 06:20AM EST
*he nods and moes over to curl up infront of the fire. taking off the stolen biker jacket two sizes too large he uses it as a blanket and his arm as a pillow. He ... probly won't revert to Crinos..... while he sleeps. Most times he doesn't. He snorts and poof just like that as if a switch was flipped he's snoring lightly.
one of the benifits of living a warriors life... the only real happyness you can have anywhere is getting good sleep. Thusly you learn to fall asleep any where any time, poof just like that.*Dire
Fri 06:22AM EST
A soft murmer is heard*
"Gaia lay me down to sleep
I pray the wyrms heart to eat
And if they attack before I wake
I'll kill um all, that's no mistake......"Decker Rohl
Fri 06:29AM EST
Yeah, that warrior's sleep looked familiar to Decker. It's the sort of sleep Erik fell into. And James. And himself. Most the time.Didn't even have time to say goodnight. Not that he would. A brief, under his breath sound at the 'prayer', a grunt or a chuckle or an amen, and then he glances back at James in time for the negation - just before the Bone Gnawer's out again, like a light.
Guess he wasn't going. A moment's pause, wondering if the Gnawer and the Skald would murder each other if he left them here. Wondering, then, if he should bother to say goodnight to the one other waking inhabitant of this house in the middle of nowhere.
Fuck it. Woman was probably asleep. The Modi lifts his coat from the back of the chair, shrugs it on, and lets himself out the front. With two warrior Garou guarding the place, he doubted the lock was necessary.
Dire
Fri 06:30AM EST
*He opens one icy blue eye and smiles as decker closes the door and rolls over warming himself at the fire. "Good boy" Resounding in his head*Posted by james at 12:00 AM.12.12.02. - d.a.n.g.e.r. [eliza-lila-rune-petar](eliza)
"Daddy went 'way to the am'zuns. Never come back."She sticks of her lower lip slightly and shuffles on the spot, then seems to have an idea spawn itself upon her.
"But'um gunna make Mommy proud. 'N you! Yuhuh! Y'am!"
Her curls bounce around her face, almost like dandelion fluff now that it was squeeky clean and in a sort of fuzz around her head from being blown dry. Another hug of the Gnawers leg before she hightails it back out of the room, down the hallway, her little footsteps punctuated at the end by the slam of an unseen door.
(rune)
Sometimes it's just almost too easy, navigating in the damnable piney woods that sprawl across Jersey's middling shores. Sometimes it's disturbingly easy, though only when a packmate is there, and only when she can stick to the roads, the roads form a black asphalt spiderweb through the thickets of trees and clumps of bobby almost-would-be-swampland-if-we-were-in-the-damned-south-but-thank-god-we-aren't-kinda places. Still, the Pine Barrens has its share of rednecks. Everyplace has its share of rednecks. And it was those rednecks she swerved to avoid as she took the last turn, following the vague assertion of pack through the twisting riddled ruin of blacktopped roads."Fucking hell."
The horn. The horn and her middle finger. Her middle finger and the horn. The rising tide of - fucking hell - rage, simmering slowly since the night before (should've fucking killed. him.) unthinking and hot as it scorches through her body, not even electric, anymore: hot. molten, brief and high, lava, something liquid and bright from the core of the earth, unsettling in its immediate ferocity.
Two Xanax. (She pulls over to