January 29, 2003.01.29.03. - pain [tristan-diego][north jersey]
(james)
this morning
his hands manipulated curve steel and synthetic catgut
blood smearing from the wounds that reopened before he could close them
but at least he felt useful, wanted
his head removed from whatever clouds it had been in the past hoursmostly, anyway
and tonight
there's a big keyring in his hand
a specific one chosen, and he makes it past the security gate
(one day he'll have to buzz in, really)
then calloused knuckles are rapping on the door of apartment 221
that's when the raggedy man takes a step back across the hall
shoulders on the patchwork quilt trenchcoat leaning against the wall
dreadlocks hanging down in their tangled disarray
deep umber eyes watch the shadows beneath the door
wondering if he's even home(tritsan)
Amazingly enough, yes… he’s home. After the big black man with the odd appreciation of music and occasional limp left the diner, He and diego returned home, and talked. Yes - just talked, until the wee hours of the morning. He’s spent the day at home, generally puttering, counting and rolling change to assure he has enough for rent, and some for beer and other groceries too. It’s been a good week, actually, and he’s even got a bit left over.
Even after smokes.
He could get to like this town, seriously.
A rap on the door brings brow to lift, and the last roll dropped into the coffee can (banks? What banks?) and he stands, heading that way, pulling open the door with his boyish grin and good natured voice chuckles “I told you, man.. I don’t neeeed any flour - now tequi….” And then he sees James leaning against the wall and that grins slides a bit sheepish “….oh.. Well hello there, handsome.” Teased, even a wink tossed in - you know, before James gets within thumping range and all. He pulls the door the rest of the way open and steps back. “common in…”(james)
a dark brow hikes towards dreads
now if that isn't an interesting salutation
but there's that easy grin in any event
weight rolls from hips up to pull himself forward
moving into the apartment with the dance of coattails around his ankles
chin lifting in nod up
(always up)"S'up Tris?"
(tritsan)
Up, always up. Decker, James, even Rune - the little nod up thing is something they’ve all picked up and always do. No doubt he’ll pick it up next if he spends much time with them (and he probably will.) He chuckles at that hiked brow, easy grin, and shuts the door behind James, gesturing in the general direction of the couch, and the couch and the coffee can on the coffee table. “Nothing much.. just counting coinage. Make yourself at home - want a beer?”
Of course, he knows the probable answer, and is already moving toward the fridge to grab one for him anyway, pausing with hand on the door as he slides a look from dreds to coattails and back up again. “glad to see you still in one piece….”
(james)
that would be why he doesn't bother answering
just shrugging off the trench and settling onto the couch
reaching for the beer as it's handed to him"Yeh, Rune pulled me off the sidewalk at some point last night. Made me go home. Hadn't been there in awhile."
the wry, sharp grin hidden by a long swallow from the bottle
he's quiet for a moment, contemplating curved, cold glass against rough palm"How you been?"
(tristan)
He hands off the opened beer, and settles onto the other end of the couch, bare foot propped up on the coffee table as he recaptures and takes a pull off his own beer, before he simply studies James for a long moment. It may have only been a couple weeks - but he’s family and that’s enough sometimes. Finally… a simple, “Good. Someone had too.” Is offered.
He doesn’t have to say that he was worried sick. He doesn’t have to say that he was worried enough he searched for a while even after he told Imogen he wouldn’t. He doesn’t have to say anything - and amazingly enough, he doesn’t say it at all. Just settles for.. “Not to bad. Been better, been worse.. How about you?” James may always put himself last - but he certainly isn’t that way in Tristan’s eyes.(james)
why... the raggedy man looks positively sheepish, at that
he knows his behavior was implorable
frankly inexcusable
"Yeh..... sorry about that."the apology is sincere
and a hand reaches up to rake fingers through tangled dreads
breath let out in a long whistle"Dealing. Still spooked. Hard to keep from just going and pacing it out of my system."
(tristan)
He nods, slightly, acceptance in his easy grin. “Happens.” Course, had it been next month, when he goes to get Momma Grace and she were here? Well, watch out for the switch boyo, because she’s of a mind you’re never to big to be swat. But it was this month, not next, so it’s all good, right? Right.
Another pull off his beer, reach for pack and lighter, taking on himself and offering the pack to James before lighting his cigarette and exhaling slow.
He’s not sure what to say. If he should pry - if it would be prying at all… hand rises, almost a mirror as he pulls fingers through his curls and lets arm fall to rest on the back of the couch. “Seems like its something that won’t just pace out, anyway… dealing’s the hardest part…. Offer is still open, you know… if you want to talk and all…..”(james)
"Well."pondered, as he takes one for himself and lights up
sliding foward to place the pack on the table
elbows falling to rest against knees
back to studying that mighty interesting floor"I tried harano. I tried running. I tried hiding, hating, sleeping, raging, fighting... the list goes on. None of that worked. I thought I'd give pacing a whirl." some chuckled half coughed out "I don't know if I'm ready to tell the story again, Tris, done so twice and that's more than I ever wanted to."
(tristan)
He just nods, finding the line of the man (broken, and trying so hard to repair himself) far more interesting then the faded carpet. He knows what loss looks like, he knows what it feels like.. and while no two people suffer the same things, in the same way, and no to things are ever alike, there is an inherent understanding that thrums in undercurrent to voice and movement. “Well, then.. until you do, or if you do.. I’ll just have to let Rune keep kissing it better..” A touch of tease, and easy acceptance to the decision.
A moment, or two, and then.. “So - how about I give you something else to concentrate on instead… just to help focus your mind in other directions for at least a little while…” And you know - he’s damn tempted to add his wicked grin in there and make that sound so much.. more… playfully shameless then it really is considering what he has to tell him, and it takes a lot to refrain from doing so - even if it lingers somewhere in dark eyes..
(james)
he... can't help but laugh
fair enough
he appreciates the chiding tease
when it has to be hidden from everyone and everything else
sometimes it's nice to let at least one guard down
there's a bit of a look, at that
once again his brow climbs skywards"Knowing you.... I'm not sure how safe it is to tell you to go on."
long lines of muscle relax
easing himself back against the couch pillows
gesturing absently with the smoke"But go on."
(tristan)
His smile? Yeah - there’s that wicked one allright. Completely unrepentant, and boyishly playful. “Well, see, I met this reaaaaaaaaaaally cute boy who’s been consuming my every thought…. Kinda tattered, ragged, dreds, playful grin - ya know, a lot like me…” And he trails off into a chuckle, shaking his head as he reaches to grab the ashtray and set it on the cushions between them, tapping ashes from smoke and then relaxing once again.
“Now, seriously…” with a look that says yes indeed he can be serious, even if playful grin remains. “there’s two things - one I’m not sure means anything at all, the other has Diego moving out and running with his tail tucked between his legs. So.. first… met - well, kinda met - a guy in a diner last night. Big ass black man, who limped in and then talked music for a while. Wouldn’t have set off the spidy senses or anything except for a couple oddities… he talked in like… well, two different voices. One was typical ghetto, the other as smooth as any sweet talker you’ve ever seen.” A pause, and he tosses back a bit of his beer before continuing. “And he only limped when he remembered too. He was definitely playing some kind of part, but don’t know who the director is. I’d have shrugged it all off except he gave me his card and said to call anytime I needed anything. Set me on edge.. I didn’t take the card, all it had on it was a phone number, which I wrote down on another piece of paper and left the card on the table. So - that’s just sort of a heads up kinda thing… because he was weird, and its my job and all to pass that along…”(james)
the first part gets a laugh
the second sends his jaw working a little
canting off the side in a stretch
absorbing all of that
considering what he heard out of the fomor the other day
he's tempted to just lop the big black guy into the same category"Good move. I've heard stories of taint spread by touch, poisons and the like. Glad you were set off by a couple things and played it safe. What was the number?"
then the frown comes back again
it's this one that gets his attention"What's got a Garou running?"
(tristan)
He won’t lie and say that laugh isn’t damn good to hear, and it gives him a chuckle in return. He nods, studying his bottle for a few moments, before draining the rest of it. “Figured you couldn’t be too careful, and all.” He stands then, and moves to the kitchen table where Violin case rests, flipping it open to retrieve piece of paper and number, taking the time to grab them both another beer, before returning to the couch. Paper is handed over, second beer set on the coffee table, in front of James, his own tipped back before he settles again. “it may just me my over active imagination, but figured you all should know.”
A pause, as cigarette is tamped out. It’s this that has him worried as well. This that eats at him. “Well.. I don’t know the whole story - but it seems he’s running because I moved in, and you all know where he is now. Only thing I really have gathered is that he’s in hiding from his brothers, and he figures they are all the same - this meaning you guys too. I..” He pauses.. a moment, and then. “I was hoping you’d talk to him.. and assure him that he doesn’t have to run - and not just because of.. you know..” gestures a bit.. and grins a little sheepishly.. “but because he’s Garou - and he shouldn’t have to run from his own kind.”
(james)
"Hmm. Couple of the others have abilities I don't." which would be why they're a pack, they compliment each other "They might be able to find out if this guy's for real or just a schizo."but the rest of it
after the second beer is opened
after the second cigarette is lit
after the number is copied
that gets him to stop
gaze rotating up to look at the Kin
quiet for a long moment"He shouldn't have to, depending on his blood and the litany and a thousand other things he may feel he has reason to. He home?"
(tristan)
He nods, under that long look, the silence. He knows there are reasons that one should have to hide. James and Rune, his own doggish ways, the fact that Diego is gay, half a million reasons the litany could have him banned and in hiding.
He hates he is the cause that he’s running again… and will do anything he can to forestall that. The trust he has in James obvious in the simple fact that he brought the problem too him first. He’s got pack - and while they’re not all exactly up and up on certain things he knows James is a lot more accepting then any other Garou he’s ever known, and maybe, just maybe, there’s something that can be done for Diego.
Finally, after a moment, he nods. “Yeah - he’s home. I can call him down…?”(james)
the only answer there is a thoughtful nod(tristan)
He nods with a slight smile, grabs another cigarette, lights it, and then grabs the phone. Number is punched from memory (yeah, already) and he listens to it ring. Now its his turn to study the carpet..(diego)
RIIIINNNNGGThe loud jaring sound of a ringing phone cutting over the soft eletronic jazz that spills from hidden speakers. gaze raises slowly from his work. the part of his flat converted into a studio again RIIIIIIIINNNNGGG should he get it? who knows his number? its to late for michelle (the realestate agent) RIIIIIINNNNGGG. 2 more and the machine will answer prehaps he should screen the call. sighing softly to himself he kills the flame on the torch and looks down at his work. RIIIIIIINGGG gas valve sealed closed dont want the flat blowing up or anything the heated metal dropped into the liquid beside it he finally swivels in his chair RII.. "ola"(tristan)
Ring. He waits, and smokes and waits some more, mentally willing the boy to answer (ring…..ring….ring….ri….) And then smile breaks through and his soft chuckle rolls over the phone line that connects them between the floors and half a building.. “Howdy neighbor… wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar….”(diego)
he was ready to berate someone to tell them off and maybe just for the fun of it go send some techno spirit to rain havock on thier lives for the next couple of hours. and then the voice at the other end comes through. that serious look and deadly growl changes to a smile "i am not your miad tristan if you want a cup of sugar you can come up and get one"(tristan)
He just laughs, and shakes his head. “Aw common man, what happened to being my beck and call boi?” He hesitates a minute.. and then fesses up… “James is here… and we were kinda hoping to talk with you about this whole moving business…” another pause, and soft sigh, before.. “please? For me?”(diego)
beck and call boi, i think not. be glad your not standing next to him when you say that one. although it does make him grin at the same time.... and then the rest of his words flow along their communication cable. what did you tell him. i trusted you. he almost hangs up. is actually pressing the kill button when the plea reaches them. in its own way making his heart hurt. ""ok, I'll bring you a cup of sugar" might just throw it at you though. no chance for him to respond the line goes dead. he hung up.(tristan)
Eyes just close, hiding the faded carpet from view, as he just pulls the phone from his ear and clicks it off. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just holds the phone between hands between knees. They’re not all just one night stands, grunge fucks in alleys, faceless masses. Not to him. And to know that the trust given may have just been irreparably scarred… well.
He takes a breath, and eyes open as he sets the phone on the coffee table before him, finishing off the rest of his cigarette in single drag, and finally says as he stamps out the smoke in the tray between them. “He’ll be down in a moment.
(james)
he stayed quiet through the entire call
but he could hear it
he heard the soft plea in the Kin's voice
he heard the way the phone clicked off before the Kin could fully draw a breath to reply
he stays quiet afterwards, too
chin dropping in a little bit of a nod
from cigarette number two is lit cigarette number three(diego)
he stares at the phone for the longest time, just looking at it finally however he begins to move.standing he quickly mooves across to the kitchen a cup of sugar placed in a tupaware container. before keys are grabbed from nightstand by the bed. a stray glance in the mirror makes him cringe, looking down at his clothes. at the state of his outfit and for a moment contemplates changing. fuck it.
out the door and 2 flights of stairs later he stands there on that last step. the floor before him may as well be some deep hole to nowhere. he would rather step into the abyss at the moment than walk the remaining distance to the kins flat. closing his eyes a deep sigh he takes a leap of faith. that final step. quickly moving to knock on the door
(tristan)
He knows James heard, and his silence is appreciated, even as he stands and drains his beer, takes James’ empty, and grabs a new one for himself, one for Diego when he arrives (if he does - he said he would, please let him come) and a refill for James if he need it. Just moving for the sake of moving, really.
Then is when there’s a knock on the door and he breathes an audible sigh of relief and doesn’t give Diego a chance to change his mind, but crosses quickly to open the door….. the look in his gaze shows just how worried he is about this - and how much he wants to help… (and how much he wants to just pull him in his arms and tell him that everything will be allright.). But all he says was “thanks.” For coming for the sugar he doesn’t really need, for trusting him enough to knock on the door. “common in.”
(james)
he lends a bit of a hand in clearing up the table
handing the empty up to the Kin
then sinks back down against the pillows again
gaze swinging over to the opening door
but he doesn't stand up
for all he knows that could make the other bolt
just giving a little bit of a nod up"Hey Diego..."
(diego)
He knows he doesnt really want the sugar, or prabably even need the sugar. However, he needed that excuse to come, he needed it as a reason to be here.He has certainly looked better than he does now. saftey glasses are still resting upon top his head burried in the dark blue spikes. hair in a disaray. clothes are old. you know that outfit the really comfortable one you never really want people to see you in... yeah thats what hes wearing. his arms are covered in a green and gold dust. even as his hands are clean. there are smudges of reds greens blues and golds on his clothes and theres even one on his face... no tristan everything wont be alright. the look he gives them both is well blank there are dolls with more expression.
"thankyou" at the invitation in
"this is for you" the container of sugar offered to him.
and finally a nod for james. even as he circles around the far side of tristan.
(tristan)
Even dolls have more expression. Something breaks inside, something remembered, some old wound come to light again and shoved so quickly away that it couldn’t possibly have been noticed. He takes the container, and the brush of fingers in contact is no less electric as its been before, but now it holds the pang of that being the last. He nods his thanks, and as he circles around (so obviously avoiding) he simply shuts the door again, and moves into the kitchen, sugar set on the table, before long legs carry him to the couch, beer for diego set there, and he? Leans against the opposite wall, and slides down to sit, knees pulled up, arms draped over, beer held loosely in hand, just sort of tilted toward James.. take it away.(james)
there are times he's been questioned exactly what moon he was born under
too mellow for his own good, too calm, too understanding
too fucking caring tends to top the list off, as well
there's a defensive side in him, way down deep, just from seeing his family hurt
anybody else there'd be tooth and claws sprouting right now
but it's all smooooooooooothed away
there's an easy grin before the beer touches his lips
loooooong swallow (or five)"Why do I scare you."
not mincing words, is he
he can be just as blunt as their Alpha when it comes down to it
big scarey Gnawer sprawled out on the couch(diego)
if only the outside would show you what is happening inside. cracks appear upon the edges of that porcalin mask though, as dead eyes track tristans every movement so closely. searching for something. as if in some way he could find again the spark to set fires alight. fight of the dark and cold deep inside. it shatters for the breifest of moments when with that regected slide, as he slips slowly down the wall to the cold embrace of only himself...yet it is in place again by the time he looks to james that beer offered taken with gleee half gone before he even realises it. sitting next to the window so close to the glass the opposite side of the appartment able to see them both. "some say fire is mans best friend, they have not been burnt"
(tristan)
he knows he’s being watched. Judged. Sentenced in every move he makes, and he simply keeps plugging back that beer. He doesn’t reach for his pack - that would cause him to leave the walls cold embrace, he doesn’t reach for his lighter, here contents himself with his beer.
He’d hoped he’d had a friend in Diego - and until just a few minutes ago, he didn’t doubt it at all. James doesn’t mince words (he is Ahroun, and no singer, after all) and Tristan’s gaze is slow to lift, and only does when Diego speaks. He studies him for a long moment, mouth opens to say something - but simply closes again. Yeah - we’ll just continue to let James take control here.
(james)
"Tell me about it."half of it's an offer
half of it's deep undertanding
the entire thing is chuffed out in a chuckling cough
there's that haunting in his eyes again
but it's shoved away
they all have their little secrets
they all have their enormous pain"Only problem with it, is we're not men. Why are you running?"
(diego)
"when faced with a forest fire what do the animals do?"betrayed, he had trusted you. where he trusted no one. the mask is slipping again as eyes study tristan in turn. his reluctance to speak, tell volumes. cracks appear running over the surface the scarred puppy kicked one to many times, trying to hide behind what remains of the peices.
(james)
there's logic in that
it would quite explain why he's in Jersey and not his home state
there's a thoughtful nod, and maybe a few moments of silence"You think me and my pack are going burn you? Decker was so pissed about his truck he didn't notice what you were. Imogen probably blamed what she felt in you, if at all, on me. So maybe that changes things. I'm the only one that knows what you are. And something like that shouldn't have to run. You think I'm going to burn you?"
(tristan)
His reluctance to speak tells all.
As much as Diego trusted him, he wanted to help. He knows he can. He knows that running isn’t the answer, he knows that as he found acceptance in James, so can Diego…
But he also knows he will accept whatever happens from here out. He’s tried, he’s done his best - and if he looses, he looses. But still, he says nothing… the anger and betrayal so deeply pains him, he simply… pays more attention to the beer in his hand, then the judging, condemning gaze.(diego)
how does he explain how does he show how does he even begin to tell... "you trying to tell me decker needs an excuse to get angry cause i dont beleive that" its the most straighforward thing you are probably going to get from him all night.does he add more fuel to the pyre before they throw him on it kicking and screaming. for once he does not look at tristan but instead turns his gaze uneerily towards james. there is finally something in those eyes now something broken haunted and scared. but also resiliant defiant.
the problem with mental tricks is that there not presice if your not used to it, that jumble of images and words flowing together to make up an collage that slowly becomes a complete picture and finally a sentence and structure.. poor james one more horror to fill him that pooring hate and rage even tristan gets glimpses as he broadcasts in his anger in his pain. 'help me save me hold me' more than communicates.
(PM)
to Tristan, James: the room is surprisingly well lit. isnt it supposed to be dark its always dark light does not shine on such attrocities does it. superimposed imoges a boi so young what 4 prehaps 5 staring at a mirror. fingers gently probing at puffy cheeks a tooth spat out into the sink one whole side of his face a dark blue. tears flow freely from swollen eyes. images of a backhand slap. stricking again and a again the same face different ages body bruised you see the punches you feel the remembered pain. pushed shoved beaten until he was a teenager its hard to tell hes such a small boi. he sitll is. small and broken. its so light it shines in through a window the shadow figure hangs by bound wrists naked as the day he was born. body covered in grime from old wounds healed now ahhh to be supernatural. he passed out in the end. reverted to his own form body starving hanging there for days an endless cycle never allowed down. the cutting begins again he told them he couldnt do it. by failing to do it he defied an order. his brothers pacs version of code red. multiple beatings multiple punishments multiple scenes like this. and through it walk figures whos aura of rage seems almost visible.a brother someone else, more than one the pack numbered 7 thats 6 to one. ...
james dire and decker thier own rage thier own image supperimposed over the others. those latino features caramel skin looking out from under dreads and arian smirks. a get tattoo blend and mix "what makes you different from them with your auras of rage and fire"
(james)
that? actually gets him to laugh
toooo amused by that statement"No, Decker doesn't. A cold breeze blows up his ass the wrong way and he gets angry."
that's when he "listens"
one more horror to add to his mental library of them
a part of it comes with the territory
there's no white picket fences and prize-winning roses for them
it's a life of horror and pain and regret
sometimes touched with victory and honor
but you have to wonder, sometimes
does the good really outweigh the bad?
you keep slogging through another day to find it out
even if deep down you know you never willbut no one should have to have that pain
and a slow sigh bleeds out of the Ahroun
even though those dark dark eyes close
he can't wipe the image away from them
well, that explains the kicked puppy look
his gaze drops, dreads scratching shoulders as head shakes
(he's a little paler, now)
that other beer just fiiiiiinished off with a few long swallows
(you dont hurt a KID like that)
some tight ripple of ignited anger rolling out like a shockwave
but he reins it tightly back in
because how can he explain it wasn't Diego that caused it
but what was done to him...."Because I'm not a sick fuck, Diego. Christ.... I'm Garou, not a monster."
there is a difference, to some
even though there isn't to a majority
a hand lifts to wipe across his mouth
(stomach heaves)
and when that gaze lifts to look at the smaller shifter
the hurt in those eyes is deep"How could you think that I...."
the next moment he's up and bolting for the bathroom
here comes that beer(tristan)
Help me. Save me. Hold me.
In the depths of the glimpses he gets of the anger and pain, those three things ring through, and hand drags through curls. He wants nothing more then to do so - but if he moved now, would he be turned away? Would it send him running? Would. It make. It worse?
Glimpses, he gets glimpses (bruised broken beaten again and again and again hanging twisting, blood and pain and anger and… and…and… oh. My god… dear gaia, why?) and gaze lifts again to meet Diego’s - and its all said without a word, its all said without any more then a flex of fingers around beer bottle that wants to reach for him, help him, save him, hold him. It’s said there in his gaze, in the subtle shift of weight….. The only way he knows to save him, to help him, is to have James be who he knows he is. Strong. Determined. Fair. Family.
James speaks - and the rage surges but is so quickly, so tightly reigned in, and the anger (he. Was just. A kid.) resonates in Tristan. But where James has to reign it in - where it flooded him more quickly, deeper, and he caught mere glimpses, its James’ bolt to the bathroom that brings action.
Lean form unfolds, and while James looses his beer (he. Would never) his own is set aside and in three strides he’s standing in front of Diego - pain mirrored in his gaze.. and his voice mirrors his thought… “James would never… ever do that to anyone. Neither would Rune… This is a true pack, a true family Diego… Listen to him…. And trust me…. Please trust me…” A nod toward the door - and then he can’t say anything else.. he can’t all he can do is reach for him.. a slow lift of arm, a touch of his cheek (don’t turn me away, please..) slow slide of fingers around the back of his neck to urge him forward, broken voice, murmurs.. “commere.” please...(diego)
pack family not mine though and that anger that rage he flinches from it even as it is rained in. how could he think that, how could he imagine it? because he has never known any difference. James actually runs there goes his beer. and all hes left to face is tristan
oh gaia, you saw too? "i never wanted you to see that" i never want anyone to see it, if i can forget it maybe then it wont be real "i never ever wanted you to see that" is there something wrong with this image isnt he supposed to be the big strong one the protector the wolf in sheeps clothing. not the lamb afraid hes about to be eaten. body moves into tristan holds him close. i would take it all away if i could never let you have known.
(james)
it's rare that he sees something to make him physically. sick.
that obviously did the trick
abs heave to rid even his guts of what they contain
because maybe if he can purge all of that
there will be no sticky remnants of the things he saw
there's a courtesy flush... or four.... but he doesn't move when the world stops tossing and turning
elbows rest on the plastic seat
fingers spidering up into dreads
his head just hangsto even think he's capable of something like that
it just floors him
absolutely FLOORS him
he can't even comprehend how much it hurt to be accused of... of...beer's all gone... here comes pure bile
(tristan)
“I know.” And he does.. and he understands why though he only caught glimpses, he caught enough to know the depth of pain, the depth of terror in this wolf who is far from big and bad. Strong arms fold around him, hugging him close as if that could make it all go away, make it better, when he knows it can’t.. a moments respite from a too long lived hell. Again, he murmurs, determined, heartfelt. “James isn’t like that, Diego, I swear it to you…”
Arms tighten, slightly, protectively. The big bad Kin, weaker, the underbelly of the Chosen ones, the one who fights the war by staying home, and being here when they get back again… here he is, cradling the Garou, smaller, but stronger, younger, but gaia the things he’s seen, and offering the only thing he can.. himself. “I can’t take away what they did to you - dear gaia I wish I could, and I know James does too. There is not a single member of this pack who is capable of such atrocities. Decker, even Dire? Get pissed.. but even he wouldn’t sink so low… a child..” he just.. trails off in stunned.. not disbelief - because he believes…how he wishes he didn’t, but he does. He pulls back, only to lead Diego to the couch and sit him there… crouching in front of him and capturing his gaze “I would not have brought him into this if I had even an inkling that he could possibly be anything like that. He isn’t. He’s family. I trust him. Trust me.”(diego)
he just wants to crawl into some fetal little ball and hide somewhere. instead he just pulls knees up under his chin. arms wrapped around him "i think you should go check on james" theres a neat little box inside his head marked do not open. he is quickly stuffing all the contents that just poured out back in there. hide it all away.(james)
little while later, he's actually able to stop heaving
then its a slow climb to his feet
water runs to wash out his mouth
splashed on his face
the door slowly opens and he catches the last part of it
but he doesn't come into the room yet
shoulder leaning against the frame
and his voice is soft
(haggard)"You trusted me the other night. It may have been the tequila... it may have been something else. But you trusted me enough, when I was just as intoxicated, to get into bed with me - and you knew I wouldn't hurt you."
there's a bit of a soft sigh
finally pulling away from the door
walking over and picking up his coat from the edge of the couch"Trust me now. I'm not capable of that, Diego. Neither is my pack. I'll kill anyone that tries to hurt you like that again. Please don't..... forsake.... the friend you've got in Tristan because you're afraid it will happen again. Let us prove to you it won't."
he heads for the door then
something else to try to walk (or brawl or drink) out of his system(tristan)
Lashes fall and hide dark gaze, and head follows, forehead resting against Diego’s pulled up knees curls sliding to hide his face, though there’s no hiding the soft sigh that flows through shoulders, down spine, and hands rest along the other’s hips, just a moment, before he just nods, slightly.
There’s a thousand things to say, and nothing to say at all, there’s hundreds of reasons that he should stay right here, and hundreds more that he shouldn’t… instead, all he does say is this.. “don’t. go.” A soft plea, that’s all, before he’s uncurling to stand, and James opens the door at that moment…
He steps aside, just slightly, more toward James then anything, and listens as he says all the things he’s tried to get diego to understand.. hoping that hearing it here, the pure fury and determination in his voice, his stance, to protect him - and never have him hurt again. He drags his hand through his hair again, and follows James to the door. He knew something had happened - but he had no idea that it would affect James like this… he couldn’t have known, in either of them… hand reaches out, and rests on James’ shoulder for a moment - long enough for a squeeze (I’m sorry), long enough to just.. touch his friend.. some moment of connection, stabilizing himself as he knows he can’t for either of them. Eyes meet, reflect, and fall away again, and hand does the same.(diego)
tequila will do a lot to someones trust levels. and no he never knew you wouldnt hurt him, but when faced with deckers rage james was there acting as a sheild. prehaps deep down he knew you where safe. or prehaps he was willing to place his trust in tristan... "im sorry james. and thankyou" such a soft whisper from somewhere deep in that ball hidden on the couch.
(james)
that hand that lands on his shoulder
he reaches up, covering it with his own
(it's allright, it's not your fault, I was clueless too, knowing that he went through it makes me so angry and I don't want to scare him with my temper)
a thousand things said in that simple touch
dark eyes look from the Kin, then to the other Garou
(take care of him)"Don't be sorry, man.... it wasn't your fault. I meant what I said."
he won't go back on his word of protection
no matter what it is, or who it is
he won't let the little Garou be hurt again
and the door softly closes behind himPosted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 28, 2003.01.28.03. - healing [rune][north jersey]
(james)
some towns are nameless, they exist only to pass through if you don't blink
some streets are nameless, they look like any other out there, easily noticed and forgotten
some people are nameless, they're nondescript, easily blending into the background
junglevine dreads wash out against the rusts and browns of the brick wall
patchwork quilt trenchcoat so worn that the colors seem nothing more than faded stains
BDUs are camoflaged anyways, so maybe this is just their elementmaybe it's just his eyes that are dark enough, and alive enough, to make a difference
they're glaring out across the road, up and over the cars that randomly cruise by
there's a fire burning in them, stoked and embered by the hate that smoulders in his gut
and probably by the paper covered bottle of.... whatever he's sucking down like a dehydrated city nomad
there's a shadow in them, too, caused by whatever it is he's drinking awayoutright drowning, by the pace of it
scuffed tank boots brace as shoulders press against then push away from the wall
balance wavering like a bouey until he's settled himself on the sidewalk tide
(right-o, James)
his turn is lead by the drop of right arm, pulling against some anchor on the ground, pivoting
the journey down the sidewalk is more meandering than meaningful
guess he must have stayed in one place too long
cause something caught up to him
so he's on the move again
whistling what should be "Uptown Girl" - but it's questionable(rune)
Northern New Jersey is full of nameless towns. Or, rather, northern New Jersey is full of nameless towns that once had names and vibrant identities, where people worked rather than merely lived, where people lived rather than merely slept the few hours they have free from work and responsibility, in some cookie-cutter suburban box with all the appropriate amenities. Now they blur together, endless, nameless, faceless sprawl. The old cities have becume new urban nightmares, the oldest suburbs follow them down the road of decadence and decay, rot and poverty, while new suburbs spring up on the periphery, gobbling up what once was free, wild land that must have - at one point - contributed to the state's nickname.The Garden State.
What a fucking joke.He's not the only one out here tonight, when the frigid temperatures are beginning to warm (at last). Even if its still below freezing, it feels like a heat wave. No longer do the homeless wait in line all day in hope of a bed at a shelter that will keep them warm and alive for another day. They're free to wander - collecting cans or bottles, engaging in petty theft, drinking away whatever troubles have brought them to this impasse. He's not the only one out here tonight, stumbling down the sidewalk aimlessly, brown-paper-wrapped bottle (Popov Vodka. Cheapest pint of liquor you'll find. Old Grandad's. E&J brandy for those feeling flush. Mad Dog, Thunderbird, Boone's Farm or a forty ounce of cheap beer or malt liquor for those poor bastards with only a few coins to spend). He's not the only one out here, tonight. But he's the only one she's looking for.
It's not coincidence that she finds him. She can feel his presence in the back of her mind. There's a vague, certain map, a beacon, some homing device ( - pack - ) that joins them all. The Beemer is parked a few blocks away, in a great concrete parking garage, in hopes that it'll stay whole and safe, and since then she's been following that beacon, that faint, shimming thread stretched between them. Injured though she still may be, there is purpose to her steps, and she gains on him with every block, even as he climbs to his feet and begins to stroll away again.
Hers are not the only heels to clatter along the sidewalk tonight. There are ladies of the evening on the corner, dressed in their tawdry finest, far too much skin exposed for the weather. Their sauntering pace is punctuated by the clatter of their cheap heels on the sidewalk, and camouflages the sound of her approach. But these aren't cheap heels, on the sidewalk. This isn't imitation leather, brushing against his shoulder as she falls in step beside him, and that's not cheap perfume, wreathing around him as she joins him, fingers crawling lightly across his shoulder.
'lo.
That's all she says. Not: I was worried about you. Not: where were you. Not: how are you holding up? Just 'lo, soft and faint, some sound-thought unfurling itself in his mind like a penant against the wind.
(james)
just as she uses it to track him
he should be able to feel that deep spirit tug between them
some little magnetic force, a little tickling on his spine, a little tickling on his shoul...der?he was never approached by the others out tonight
he didn't appear to have any money
just another slumdog like them hoping to find a way to escape
even if he walked a little straighter
even if he, underneath it all, was a little cleaner
he still just blended in with the rest of the nameless and faceless on the streets
so wasn't worth the chance to take to climb up out of it all for an hour... if thatso the touch surprised him
brows lifting to look to the side
and it throws his balance askance
not that he was pulling away from her
simply because gravity suddenly got the best of himwhatever world he was in, suddenly he's falling out of it in a half-step back-stumble quick-reach to grab her wrist for balance movement across the sculpted concrete
and then for a moment
there's a little clarity
a little bit of him showing back up through the alkaline haze
maybe it's the edge of that grin
maybe it's the softness that's in his eyes
maybe it's just the softness finding way from grab to caress...'lo there....
(rune)
He belongs here. Just another slum dog with a bottle in his hands, the closest, fastest way outta the endless concrete hell they must find some way to survive. He belongs here, but she does not. The high-heeled boots cost more two months' local rent; the rich camelhair coat (the leather and fur coat - her favorite - too soaked with blood to be salvageable) in a weave so fine it feels like silk where his thumb grazes the cuff as he grasps her wrist, as his flailing grab for balance changes to something like a caress is worth more than most of the jalopies parked streetside. And so on: the turtleneck, the expensive spa make-up, the professional manicure, the impeccable dye job, complete with highlights and lowlights and all the color definition of natural-grown midnight hair, none of it belongs.So it's surprising, the connection - instant - between the suggestion of his grin, and the appearance of her own quicksilver little smile.
"Fancy meeting you here." He touches her wrist, and she slides her hand down to twine fingers with his. Half-turning, an easy movement, sidelong, that rustles the coat and the bandages beneath the fine turtleneck, she finds his gaze - some spark of him beneath the alcoholic haze - and her footsteps slow and still. "That's a really, really bad line." Her smirk - red, curving wicked red - appears briefly, then dissolves into her smile, softer and somehow more real than the ever-present mask. "I was looking for you."
(james)
rough fingers trace over the silky soft weave of the coat
his eyes have dropped away from hers to study it
for some reason, that she wears this instead of the other strikes him
just at this moment, for whatever particular reason
maybe he thinks about it and draws the meanings together
some subdermal chill to acknowledge the blood that soaked it
some oblique thought to silently admire how different and rich it looks on herthis beakon of color and style somehow rising instead of drowning in this slumland sea
there's a low chuckle, slick and slurred, at her line
it curves lips into a smile, and allows shoulders to quake in ebbing wave repercussion
amusement is there, beneath everything else
and even inspite of himself, no matter what he's liquorly dampened
that smirking wicked curve melting into something only rarely shown?
it tugs at him, inspiring some little smile in return to linger"How are you?"
chin lifting a little in subversive point to the bandages he knows are still there
he knows she was talking about him
but just like always
he puts her first(rune)
"Fine." Her response is quiet, offered with a lilting shrug that tugs at the still-open wound and newly closed flesh. Her smile twists momentarily tight with the pull of pain, but it is only a remnant, now. "Mostly, it itches like hell. Another few days..."Her fingers fold lightly, self-consciously, over the curve of her breast. The camelhair camouflages a silhouette that would otherwise be odd and lumpy from the gauze wrapped beneath over the long, raw scores raked from left shoulder, down across her chest in a vicious diagonal. Half the furrows have closed, but the others remain open, raw and red with remnant inflammation, oozing just - bleeding now and again - against the bandages. Her other wounds have closed, and only this, the worst of them, remains. "...and I'll be fine."
Of course she will. He knows how well, how easily, their kind heal even the worst of wounds. Decker crippled her, and she was on her feet in a day, fully healed in less than a week. So it will be again.
How easily their kind heal physical wounds.
Her hand flattens, and then she allows her arm to fall to her side. Weakness, her own weaknesses make her awkward as the teenager she must have been, once and there's a furrow of fallow silence that falls then, bleak and blank.
A beat. A breath, no more than two, and the curled suggestion of her smile appears once more. "I was going to ask the same of you. You - " She knows what he must have faced, in the long dark walk alone through the madman's mind. She knows what he must have faced, and perhaps he can begin to project what she might have faced, though she shows no signs of it. Perhaps he will think her callow for that, cheap and crass, without the depth of feeling ( - ache - ) that wounds him yet, years later. " - you don't look so good. I was worried."
(james)
"That's because I'm not doing good."strangely
that's said with a grin
even using the bottle to punctuate it
two and two makes four, right? logical enough to him
that's about when he drops his gaze away from her and down to the papered glass in his hand
and arm slowly extends, handing the bottle over to he
he had enough a long time ago
they both know itshe's a good idea what he faced, in that tunnel
and he... thinks he may know something of what she did
while she has never given him the specific tale
just by what she dances around he can begin to vaguely fill in the blanks
just like then, he doesn't ask now
and if she hurts - however invisably - as much as he does?
he knew he was right to remove himself as she healed
the last thing she'd need were his issues lingering in the background of hers
he's enough respect to let her pull herself back together without his mothering or pacing
so he let her
even as he continued to fall apartor at least drown
(release the bottle, Jamey-boy.... thaaaat's it)
dark gaze drops, then slowly crawls up form
he knows what wound should still remain"Want me to stitch that? It'll still itch like hell... but... won't pull open everytime you reach for something... just to make the next couple days more bearable..."
just blundering on, aren'cha, boy?
(rune)
Long, pale fingers curl about the bottle, crimson nails digging into the rough brown bag as her hand completes the circle. She shifts it to her other hand - the one farthest away from him - with only a brief glance at the contents. The shadow of distaste (what precisely were you drinking?) is dissolves into another unreadable, unusual expression - concern, or something like it."I know you're not doing well. That's why I - " The echo of her heels in time with his footsteps, staccato and syncopated the rhythm. " - came looking." Leatherclad hips sway with her gait, the movement exaggerated as she bumps her hip against his. "It wasn't the fucking scenery."
The bottle bumps against her thigh with each step, swinging in her free hand. She'll toss it into the garbage at the next trash can they come across. They both know he doesn't need anymore, and anyway, if he's going to get morosely drunk, she'll make sure he's drinking something a little less rotgut. "Wouldn't mind if you wanted to stitch it up," amused, the curl of her half-grin, as her footsteps slow. "...but, I think I'd like you a little more sober for that, and me a little less. Maybe in the morning, hmmm?"
Unspoken, unbidden ( - dangerous - ), she finds his hand again. She won't ask him to talk about the past (he has already), and she can't take it away. They can only go forward, damnit, and now is all she can offer him. "You ready to come home yet?"
(james)
he answers her visual query with a shrug
even though he doesn't particularly see it
he seems to just know what the crackle of paper and the tilt of her head at his periphery meant
shoulders move in summation of a non-chalant reason
(who knows, bought it off another guy)
balance thrown by the gentle hipcheck
and he returns it with a gentle (watch the wounds, boy) nudge of shoulder"What? You mean you aren't enamoured by the romantic decay of urban society as modeled by the crumbling, retrospective designs of the nevah riche?"
a brow lifting, studiously
there's some grand gesture with his free hand
waving in that all-encompassing way
he doesn't have any physical wounds to heal
what does bodily harm matter?
then there's a bit of a nod"In the morning then.... probably a good idea if you want them straight." gesturing hand reaches to rustle through heavy dreads "And I don't mind, woulda offered sooner but...."
it drifts off
segueing perfectly into her final question
long breath draws into his lungs
positively. not. sure."You want me there?"
like this?
(rune)
"I had enough for the crumbling, retrospective designs of the nevah riche when I was a kid." The Glass Walker smirks back a him, an amused glint in her dark eyes. "I've moved up to the pseudo riche and hope, someday, to make the ranks of the nouveau riche. Every girl needs a hobby."By now, they're within five feet of a trash can, part of some city-beautification project gone terribly, terribly wrong. Or perhaps begun and never finished, budget overruns, disputes over politics and territory, racism, fear of crime and drugs, spiritual malaise, whatever. There's probably more trash piled around it than inside it. No doubt this bottle, too, if it survives the toss (sudden movement of her arm, finding expression throughout the tall, lean body), and fall into the empty bin, will be salvaged as well. There are hungry (maddened, bloodshot, desperate) eyes all around and a drink's a drink, after all. Even if it's rotgut, it's better than rubbing alcohol.
"Yeah." The toss, the easy movement of even her wounded body, continues as she turns around the pivot point of their clasped hands until she's standing in front of him. He can keep walking and run right into her, or he can come to a weaving stop. Either way, she lifts her hand and settles soft fingerpads gently on his jaw, curving her thumb to fall heavy on the corner of his mouth. There it lingers, following the lowering line of his bottom lip.
The wind rises, cold again, cold now, but from the east, bearing upon it - perhaps - the salt tinge of the distant sea. It sends the dark strands of her hair whipping across her pale cheeks, the ends curling across her nose and mouth, tangling with the lowering slant of her eyelashes, perhaps even enough to obscured the unsettled quality of her expression, which sits ill upon her sharp, arrogant features. "I want you there, James." Her voice is quiet, barely rising over the whip and roar of the tunneled wind. "You know I do.
"I want you there, however you are."
(james)
suddenly, she's blocking his path
it takes another step for the message to go from brain to feet
(uh, stop James)
he almost runs right into her before back pedaling enough to halt
weaving, allright
it takes the soft touch of her hand to steady him
else he'd just fall, right, on, ooooooverhis head tilts, listening to her
some canid expression of trying to catch those words whipped by the wind
watching the way it flurries inky strands across pale face
knowing it has to be tugging at his dreads but he's ignoring that
simply watching her for a few long silent seconds after she speaks
maybe it's hearing her for the first time
maybe it's seeing her for the first time
there's just.... something.... that strikes him
whether or not she can read it in those haunted eyes is yet to be decided
but it's there, somewhere, swimming in the puddle of booze that's his belly
finally a hand lifts, reaching to drag away some dark stripe blown across her face
gently and neatly and oh so deliberately tucking it behind an eartongue reaches out, smoothing over his lips
some long freight train of thoughs rumbling on through his brain
all in the time he studies her face through his haze
absorbing her through his eyes
that expression sitting uncomfortably in her features"I know. I....." the rest of it washes out in a tidal sigh, the rest is soft "I'm sorry I took off the way I did."
(rune)
"You don't have to apologize." She's still, now. He's weaving, and she's steadying and still. Her head tilts as he catches the a lock of her head and settles it behind her ear, prolonging the gesture into a gentle caress, the back of his hand across the high arch of her pale, cold cheek. "James, you needn't apologize. Everyone needs space, sometimes. Their own space, free of everyone else, but - "God. This is hard. If she weren't so damned earnest, if it didn't mean so damn much that she somehow get this across to him, she'd be laughing at herself for the afternoon-talk-show-self-help-whatever-Oprah-stuff she's spouting, and some of that wicked sense of irony crawls into the self-mocking curl of her red lips. " - don't do it because you think you're not wanted, or needed. Or... whatever it is, hmmm?"
"C'mere." Her thumb hovers over his mouth, as lean fingers slide back, pushing through the tangled dreadlocks to weave their way behind his neck. She draws him forward with the faint pressure of her fingers and the slow backward pull of their clasp hands, draws him forward until she can kiss him, with a slow, devouring attention that bleeds into some smoldering burn. "I've missed you."
(james)
"I've missed you, too."sooooo softly
the words sling together, edges fuzzy
it's murmured into the space lingering after the kiss
he used to think sleeping on the couch was far enough away
last night on the street was almost unbearable
but what gnawed at his insides seemed so much worsehe stays there, in this close contact
letting his brow drop to rest against hers
some far-off amusement at the way dreads fall to chase her whisping strands
(yes, my dear, seems even my hair missed yours)
he reeks of cheap liquor and exhaust and dirt and grime
a night spent in the alley in some cardboard palace
curled into a lupus ball to stave off the cold
letting that simplistic primal thought dumb down his pain
but now he's the man again
thoroughly intoxicated, but the man
and those thoughts have regained their complexity"I...." an absent smile, he can still taste her on his lips "I did it because I can't stop seeing it or thinking about it or reliving it in endless repeat loop. It's just... eating at me." some drunken explanation, some drunk gushing admission "And I didn't want to bother you with it. You had your own healing to do." a trace of fingers at her waist, watching fingers as they trace the edge of the bandage beneath clothing "Still do."
(rune)
He reaks of cheap liquor and exhaust and dirt and grime. She reaks of expensive shampoo and bodywash and lotion and mere expense, all of it, the money poured into her clothes, the money lavished upon her body. His night was spent curled in a lupus ball in the middle of a cardboard box, to stave off the bitter cold. Her night was spent in Glabro, drugged into near-oblivion, wrapped in silken sheets with the thermostat set so very high to accommodate her SoCal blood. But they stay there. She breathes in his scent - all of them - and he breathes in hers, and their hair - his rough, hers fine - tangles together in a sure, slow dance aided by the winter wind.Her hand slides from his hair, the cool tips of her fingers gliding across his cheek until they come to rest on the strong line of his jaw. Four cool, faint points of contact, and the longer line of her thumb curled beneath trailing across the hollow beneath his ear.
"I know." Of course she knows. She knows him well enough to know, and perhaps she could even sense it - the vague, numbed haze of his pain, the primal thoughts out there, somewhere, in the cold dark night - much as he could feel the impact of the bullet shredding her shoulder, the score of the frenzied Get's claws across her chest. "I know."
She repeats herself. The words themselves are close to a caress, half-breathed, some warm rush of air encompassing the drunken confession, absolving, translating, changing it into something else altogether.
"Come home. We can heal together." The whisper of her smile across his mouth, faint and ghostly, felt rather than seen. His fingers trail across her waist, and her body turns instinctively into the caress ( - wounds be damned - ). Her hand falls from his jaw to curl atop his, smoothing it across the curve of leatherclad hip. "I know you'll be careful with me."
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 27, 2003.01.27.03. - homecoming [tristan][north jersey]
(tristan)
Sometime this morning (afternoon) Harbin untangled himself and after a quick breakfast(lunch) started back toward Basto... Shortly after that he managed to pull exhausted form into the shower and sooth any aches that were left after the last round and another bit of Mother's touch.. whisteling merrily. Since then, he's gone about cleaning up the place a bit, and through it all there's a serious case of permagrin going on. He's finally pulled on a shirt, and is in the process of pulling on shoes.. its money making time.(james)
somewhere way before noon he left
the rest of his pack was resting, healing
he? needed to walk
after last night's little escapade
and the note he found tacked to the door on his way out
the Gnawer needs to walk some things off
sort some fucked up things out in his head
not like he was really able to sleep anywayso there's that trenchcoat shrugged onto muscular shoulders
and he's been beating the street throughout the entire afternoon
just reassociating himself with the familiar territory
seeing if anything's changed in the days (years) he was gone
that's when night falls
he sat in some park on some bench watching the sunset
the orange and red glow reflecting over the ice covered grass
the way that slowly neon sheen settles to the deep frozen brilliance of nightthen he's walking again, stopping before some gait
a giant keyring pulled out of his pocket to let him through
(what, he was supposed to ring?)
this'll be the second time he's shown up unannounced
a part of him chiding at the sheer audacity of it
but for some reason he doesn't care
the buzzer on Tristan's door is rung
and then his shoulders are backing against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway(tristan)
Boots pulled on, tied, and he stretches slowly - juuuuuust to see where those aches and pains are so he can be prepared when on his feet, and then its the grand search for his keys - laying wherever they fell when he tossed them when they got her.. found and shoved into a pocket just as the buzzer rings.. "Just a sec" called as fingers run through tangled array of curls, pulling them out of his face even through they simply fall back, hand straightening shirt, just making sure he's semi presentable and all before he opens the door...
and stops, and that grin spreads from permagrin to something warmer, pleased.. damned happy to see him... "Well, hello there. Common in.." If he's upset about the unannounced visit, it certainly doesn't show - he's genuinely happy to see him, and double glad that he seems to be all in one piece. he steps back so James can enter, questioning.. "When'd you all get back?"(james)
dark eyes lift as the door opens
and he stands there a quiet moment before pulling off the wall
something of a smile forming to see the warmth in the Kin
(....family to come home to)
but there's something about him
tired, haunted, distracted
and he's trying not to show it"Early yesterday."
hands running through dreads when he slips inside
hands digging in pockets for that pack
a scowl crossing his face to see that it's all but empty
and nimble fingers pull one of the two Camels left free
looking back in something of an apology"Woulda dropped by earlier but had an errand to run. How ya been?"
(tristan)
He tips his head, slightly.. noting what his friend (family) is trying to hide, and closing the door behind him, nodding to the new pack by the ashtray on the coffee table, sitting next to his lighter.. "Probably.. uh.. a good thing you waited." Said with positively wicked grin, even as he heads to the fridge, reaching in and grabbing a beer for both of them, and moving to sit on the couch, setting the bottles on the coffee table, one nearer where james stands.. he grabs cigarette, lights, and only then does he ask softly on exhale.. "everyone ok?" but mostly, are you ok...(james)
he can't help the slight look back
riiiight during the lightup using Tristan's lighter
the brow lifting in amusement at the pause"Diego come down again?"
go down again
bend over again
either works, he's thinking
next comes the turn and sweep to pick up the bottle
it's toasted silently in thanks
bolting back a goooood portion of it
letting a long, slow breath fill his lungs"Yeh." everything, not him "Think so. Killed the bad guys, saved the lady, came home."
he's a fullmoon, not a Galliard
sometimes he can fake it
but tonight sure isn't one of those nights
gesturing absently with the cool amber glass"Ran that errand last night, couldn't sleep, spent the day walking around the metropolis that is Hibernia."
(tristan)
Oh and that wicked grin remains, even as shake of head sends curls sliding over neck and chin, into his eyes before sliding away as he tips bottle back. "Nope. A sweet georgia boy.. fiddle player, though I've yet to hear him play.." oh but the things he did hear....
He nods, listening, or more so watching, brow quicking a bit. Some nights can be faked, other's cant. And he's not answering the unanswered question either. and he? Well, he finally asks it out loud - perhaps giving it voice will help. "And what about you - something's got you all worked up to keep you up and walking all day."(james)
he just..... laughs softly, shaking his head"Tristan. You dog."
then when the question's voiced, he just stops
no chuckle, no sigh, just.... nothing
silently looking at the orange carpet
studying the tread loose there, or the stain here
there's the sound of the crackling tobacco on next inhale
there's the sound of the exhale clouding smoke up towards those eyes
there's the sound of a few more swallows of that cold beer
just wondering how in the hell to phrase this"I..... saw something." stopping, correcting himself with the waved beer "... Someone last night that's just bugging me. Didn't have to do any healing, so just got out of the condo and back into familiar territory to work through it."
shoulders roll in a shrug hoping to push away some of the tension
and even though he calls the condo home
with it's electronics and plush carpet and multiple rooms
it's places like this where he's really home
one room, threadbare carpet, 70s fashionable walls, secondhand couchbed(tristan)
At the first, he has the grace to blush a little - but its surrounded by that permagrin and just doesn't look like he's truly embarassed. He is what he is - and goddamn it was good and that's just all there is too it. "What can I say? I've a thing for cute boys with accents."
He's quiet then, giving James the time to work through it in silence filled with little sounds... exhales, inhales, swallows.. filled with quickly growing familiar sites.. faded carpet, faded walls, things that remind him of home and have become home all at the same time.
Little sounds, little sights, but as a whole he mainly watches his friend. The way he talks. the way he evades. the way he stumbles in on some way to making an explanation.
When it finally comes, there is no disbelief, there is only a slight nod, and soft probe.. "Bugged you how?" If nothing else, maybe talking it out will help clear things up a bit for his friend.(james)
"Because they're dead, Tristan."that was nice and blunt, wasn't it
punctuated by the hollow sound of empty bottle on counter
not slammed, just gently set, but the sound rings out just the same
inhale, exhale, ash, look, frown, stub out
clawing the last Camel from his own pack
not ready to dig into Tristan's just yet"Or at least they should be. They were. They. Are. Little trip last night just made it seem like they weren't." it's shrugged away, forcibly, and his hand finds another pocket, pulling out a little ball of plastic and tossing it towards the kin "Just wanted to bring that by, say we were back. 'Night Tris."
that's when he just turns
whatever's on his mind spooking him more
heading to the door to leave(tristan)
Bottle set down. Cigarette finished, plastic tossed. He catches, on automatic without looking at it just yet, just making sure it is in its hand. He nods, slightly, in some sort of understanding.. even if he doesn't understand at all. But some things? you just have to work out on your own.. and help isn't going to be accepted, even if its known that it will be availible at any time. Even if he can't really help, or do anything other then listen. Lip curls in something of a lopsided grin. "thanks." for whatever it is, for the notice that they're back - and well, not necessarily ok. but back. A final drag off cigarette, its stamped out, and he looks back toward the door... "If you need to talk....." the rest unsaid, the acceptance unconditional. A moment, a pause, and simply. "goodnight, James."James leaves, door closes behind him, and he just.. stares at it a moment or two. before relaxing back into the couch, proping foot on the table top and finally looking at the whatsit in his hand, unwraping, and the smile is born again to see the Kentucky shot glass which is set on the coffee table with a chuckle. It'll be well used, he's sure...
Another glance toward the door,and fingers drag thorugh those curls, and he lets head fall back to look at the ceiling. He was worried when he was gone - expected him to be a little broken up when he came back, maybe even not coming back at all, but this was... well. worrisome.
He finally stands, slips on sweater, coat, and grabs his violin case. Don't think he'll be playing tonight.. at least not for money, but he heads out anyway, locking up behind him, tucking keys in pocket and heading...
pause...
fuck it. heads toward the condos. If nothing else, the walk will do him good.Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 26, 2003.01.26.03. - happydale, pt 3 [rune-bastion] *njb[happydale - decker has been pulled from scene, things have been adjusted so that the pack returns from KY, and Rune and James decide to finally get rid of the box so they can have a nice quiet week rather than having that hang over their heads as well, so all previous scenes in happydale end up happening tonight, this is a quickwrap]
(ST)
PART I
They steadily get more and more lost among the forestry of the 'room' into which they stepped and found New Jersey at the bizarre Tea Party. They are joined, whether they seem to like it or not, by the Malkavian who, for some time, starts composing little ditties about Rune The Savior(ess). Charming... James gets the effeminate Bastian for his crush. Rune gets... the bug-nut lunatic. Bastian, for the most part, seems to ignore the Malkavian as is often the best course of action with such vampires.They come across, after much time wandering (possibly bickering, a bit of thumping the Malk, etc), what appears to be a large stone statue of a Sphinx. Until it moves... and then speaks. Did you expect any less?
The Sphinx says... "Normally I would ask a riddle, but in this case the riddle has no answer yet. Can you grant me freedom? And that is the riddle...."
It pauses and looked at the Garou specifically, "And no I don't mean kill me, you furry little fuckers."
Then it adds: "That is the riddle, but you need not answer it to pass, but ponder it carefully."
(james)
not particularly
right now nothing would really surprise him
and he's quiet for a moment
a conversation carried on over Eagle's wings
a dark brow lifting as he watches the mythical creatureIt would depend on what the definition of "freedom" is.... and if it is within our power to grant.
not out loud
just.... pondered(ST)
PART IIThe large Sphinx rises to admit them through the doorway, underneath it is what appears to be a black and white checkered floor, aqua green walls and a lot of silhouettes of people running around. Some of them look like they are in hospital garb.
The group gets guided through a hallway, the hallway appears to be wider and longer than the previous room... and the tiles appear to be getting... BIGGER. Lucky you, right?
If they try and turn back the hallway gets smaller to the point that, even in lupus, they can't get back through the doorway. Guess who is stuck now?
Should they continue going forward (which they don't seem to have much choice but to do) they notice that the black tiles are covered in gravel and the white tiles are covered in snow. In one of the white tiles is a free standing door. The question is...
Do you go through the door?
Do you actually have any choice?
Can you think of any thing else?
Is the sky made of chocolate jelly or is that just your paranoia kicking in?
(rune)
There's no choice. The Glass Walker sends a winging glance to her packmate and narrows her eyes faintly, despising these choices that are not choices.Something of her familiar smirk appears once more. I guess we're going through.
And then she does, stealing herself for half-a-moment before plunging through the door.
(ST)
: PART III - JAMESWhen you step through the door...
You are...
Alone.
The others aren't there...
Isolation...
Nothingness...
Darkness...
ALONE.
And then...
The romm begins to take forms and shapes oh so very familiar to the Bonegnawer.
It is everything he fears.
It is everything he dreads.
It is everything that he has lost, in one way or another.
It is everything that has been destoryed by his Rage.
Whatever deeply dark and poisonous in his mind and dreams and soul...
Here...
Where he is alone.
It is all brought before his eyes and he is made to watch, remember, experience, relive it all.
There is no way to shut it out.
He must face his inner demons.
He will learn to overcome...
Or he will with and leave the others... just as alone.
Will he cop out or will he strive to overcome.
To grow and be stronger?
The choice... IS HIS...
(james)
darkness
alonehe almost physically recoils under the assault
at first it's just the sounds in the darkness
(Hey baby? Coop and I have somethin' to tell ya....)
then they begin to form out of the darkness
(Jenna sauntering with that sultry smile, Cooper swaggering behind her)
jaw tightens, and those are tears beginning to form in umber eyes
(her hands sliding up his chest, blasphemy falling from her tongue)
his head jerks back, to avoid the kiss that comes next
(there's Chris... and Sledge..... what're they all doing here? why are they smiling like that? what's the joke, guys?).... not again ....
he swore it would never happen again
(this can't be happening now)
and that's when the Full Moon suddenly roars through his blood
shaggy coat grows, talons sharpen
there's a blur of movement to slash and hack and rend and bite and destroythis isn't real.... this can't be real...
but it feels real
the ache, the hurt, the betrayal.... and the emptyness
it's all coming back at him full force as he attacks to plow through what he sees
even though it shifts and changes and there's nothing but darkness beyond
he plows through itthey aren't his pack anymore, they're dead.... his pack is back in Jersey and Rune's somewhere in this hell and he has to get back to them.... no matter what it takes
it's that blind faith that kept him alive then
it's that blind faith that's driving him now(ST)
PART IVUpon exiting through the far doors of their personal nightmares, they all appear - all four - emerging from the same door oddly enough. The room had white slate tiles on the floor, red drapes hanging from the walls apparently not connected to anything but free hanging as if against gravity. In the center if a giant black and gold spinning Cookie Tin supported by a blue and white shaft the goes from floor to ceiling.
There is an old man that they can occassionally see behind sitting slumped in a wheelchair with his hands cupped as if he was meant to be holding something.
On the left hand side is the demon that they saw looking down from the sky so much earlier in their adventure. He is grinning manically....
On the right hand side is the small boy that was crying for help...
The Demon strides across the floor toward sthe small boy and yells "Shut up you fucking whelp!" and rips the spine of the young boy out, his hand covered in the gore of flesh, tissue, muscle and bone. He throw the body into the spinning box and the old man behind the box shudders slightly...
Then...
The demon advances on the four that came through the door...
(rune)
The Demon advances, and the Glass Walker is suddenly in her huge, mottle-coated Crinos form. It happens more quickly than she can say, or even understand, guided by instinct rather than conscious thought. Dull eyes are suddenly full of bloody fury, and there's bloodlust in her eyes. It's easier to fight than think, better, too.There's a snarl - challenge laid down - as she invokes the gift of spirits to stir some primal fear within the demon thing. She's on him a second later, faster than one can begin to understand, in a whirlwind of claws and teeth.
(james)
Full. Moon. Frenzy.
he's about a sneeze away from it
snarling even as he's walking through the door
then to see the Demon....Chrinos body folds to drag talons against the floor
sharpening them to razor's edge on the slate tilesas if what he saw wasn't enough
seeing the Demon hurt the boy threw him right over the edge
there's an enraged howl that's bellowing from the shepardic creature's chest
calling on Eagle, gathering their totem's strength into his frame
and he's bolting towards advancing Demon
(.... there was no answer from the great spirit)
tearing into it with everything he has
(just like he tore through his own pack)when faith blinds
all you can see is bloody red(ST)
: PART VAslan personified in the man with no heartbeat.
Insanity personified as a cackling Jester with no grip on reality.
Two enraged Garou...
If the 'demon' had bothered to consider them a threat, he may have prepared.
He probably should have slaughtered them when they first arrived.
Ego, eventually, will get your killed when you least expect it.
When the demon falls under the flurry of attacks, the old man in the wheelchair grins a crusty yellow and black toothed smile as the wounds they had dealt slowly... slowly... appear on his frail figure...
As the life leaves his body he smiles, eyes covered with cateracts, at the four and whispers hoarsely... "Thank you for setting me free..........."
As he fades from existance the red curtains fall revealing...
The motel room.
The box is no longer in the room, in it's place is an old newspaper that was dated over fifty years ago of the same old man, but younger looking, being taken the HAPPY DALES SANITARIUM. He looks very happy and the caption under the photo says: The Old Man Was Singing "Rune & James Are My Saviors" ... His name was Cecil B. Worthington.
(ST)
PART VIBastian turns to New Jersey and states, nuetrally and with the age of the centuries behind his voice. Bastian was not a youth. He was a vampire of considerable age and power, the weight of his blood leaning on the three of them. "Free the rats, New Jesery. Free them and never come near my territory again."
Even New Jersey wasn't stupid enough to argue with an Elder Gangrel having a really bad hair day. In Bastian's case? This was ALL over his body. Talk about ANGST. James will find the wards are gone when he checks on the rats again in a few nights hence.
If the Garou bother to check the newspaper, the article was authentic. The paper, antique almost. It is on record at the halls and at the administration of the old Happy Dales Sanitarium... Which, strangely enough, shuts it's doors two days later (after they get out of the box), as shows the newspaper clipping that the pack finds tacked to their pack condo front door with a B signed on it, that says the place closed when Cecil B. Worthington was found dead in a wheelchair in his room, locked from the inside, supposedly attacked by wild animals and his corpse torn to shreds. In his hands... was a small, battered cookie tin and a half eaten red-and-white polka dot (fifty year old, no less!) mushroom. He apparently... died smiling.
Both Garou... have been gone for... according to the clock on the wall: three to five minutes. However, upon looking at one another, their bodies say... they have been gone for several years. They have aged. They both sport two matching streaks of silver hair at the temple.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 25, 2003.01.25.03. - aftermath - journey to the blue mountains, pt 4 [pack] *fog(ST)
You run en masse after the one you judge to be important. the one with the dubious duffle. Rune quickly gains the lead, and though at first decker is close behind, his wounds slow him when rage runs out and he quickly lags behind. And it is a long run, though eventually you all hear the sounds of traffic and smell exhaust. The road. The highway.Wether you shift to homid or not, you all come upon the road just as a red van peels out, and your cars no where in site...
But before it gets 100 yards down the road something inside it explodes... a Defening thunder... The van swirves, cutting across the highway steeply, and flips onto its side. Sparks fly as it skids thirty more yards and finally it comes to a stop...
A long moment stretches while you try and adjust to what happened, and suddenly the windshield explodes outward, and someone steps out carrying the duffle...
Its erik, with his double barrel shotgun fetish leaning on his shoulder. You can tell all the way from where you stand that he's smiling.
[insert new orders and whatnot.... here.... and welcome to the John Woo school of RP](rune)
Springing through the woods - ignoring the catch of underbrush and low-slung tree limbs, the mottled wolf bursts through the thicket of tangled young trees and bushes bordering the narrow, no-name highway just in time to see the damned red van taking off. Her packmates can feel the surging return of her rage as she pushes off and leaps across the ditch, landing on the shoulder with a spray of gravel and continuing down the blacktop as if she actually thinks she might outrun the van.The van swerves, then - several hundred feet down the road, already disappearing - and rolls over on its side. The creature's long strides never break. Never break, until, that is, the windshield bursts in a scintillating shower of glass and Erik steps on out, duffle bag in one hand, shotgun fetish in the other.
Oh, yeah. That's why he's their alpha.
Sharp claws scrabble for purchase on the asphalt, patchy with the remnants of a recent snowstorm, and eventually (no antilock brakes on this damn form) she comes to a skidding stop.
The (extended) pack forms a loose circle around the Alpha and gets its orders. Mick heals some of Decker's wounds so the pack can get on its way, then turns to tend to the SongKeeper. Rune hangs back long enough to get highway directions, and imprint them on her memory, then lopes to catch up with the rest of the pack.
(james)
he's just...... glowering
through the realization of the Van, their alpha, the healing
he's the one quietly sitting off to the side
second guessing that undeniable drive in him to never abandon pack
maybe he shoulda been the one to stay back and guard the kin
there's a thousand reasons going through his mind on what else could have happened
now that they have this moment to sit and think
the one above all others right now?
maybe if he stayed behind they wouldn't have to go hunting again(what happened to you, Jamey-boy, did you lose all that fight when your pack died? what.... exactly have you done since then to prove yourself one of Gaia's Chosen?)
there's a shake that runs through black saddle ruff
he doesn't bother shifting any which way or how
and whatever it is that runs through canid shaped mind is pushed away
gleaned over by a little bit of that blind faith that keeps him breathing
maybe... no.... don't think about it James
move to lope along and keep pace
take your place behind all the others
just follow
that's what you're good at(dire)
*He shifts down to lupus when he scents the road. His nose being better than most. Joining them on the side of the road. He mills around with them.(decker)
And......back into the forest they go, single-file, Decker at the van until Rune catches up, whereupon he shies to the side and lets the mottled wolf past. The distance back to the clearing is short, and the clearing is still and peaceful - if you ignore the carnage on the ground. Two motionless Spirals, both still in warform. Though both retain their bland, disconcerting no-scent that had characterized this group, they also now smell quite dead. Then again, with these things, it's sometimes hard to tell - which must be why they hear a loud crunchriiiipp as the Modi decapitates one, and then the other, yanking their heads right off.
He growls low when he sees them looking, says nothing of it, and looks toward the path in the trees the fleeing Crinos had taken. Branches snapped, leaves turned, ground trodden - the trail is easy enough to follow.
(rune)
The trail is easy enough to follow, even for a citified Glass Walker: just think of the carnage a crashing, fleeing Crinos would leave amidst the winter-quiet woods. Even if he has no scent, the fresh-turned earth and rotting leaves have scent of their own, sharp and rich, which carries well on the clear, cold air. The Glass Walker chuffs to try for the scent, then sneezes sharply as she draws in too much of it (far too much) for her tastes, even glazed and muted as they are by the beast-mind.As Decker decapitates the corpses of the fallen Spirals, Rune begins down the obvious trail laid by the last of the Spiral pack, pausing here and there - swinging the sleek head, snapping at brambles that catch on her ugly coat - to find the trail again. It's a slower pace she sets, now, to be sure they do not miss something as they track.
(james)
maybe a browpoint lifts a bit
watching the decapitation
not particularly any judgement in it
he woulda done it, toothen come the telltale signs of flight
when the fight has left and it's the only option remaining
the branches broke, remaining winter hardy leaves torn free
the occasional prints scattered along what became a path
there are three more sets of pawprints
then his ownwhatever self-doubt that's rampant in his mind is forgotten, now
he still has a job to do
while they scout ahead and to the sides
once again he watches the entire picture
looking both at them, and the forest around
trying to pick up what it is they search past(dire)
*he watches decker take the heads. The one skull caved in and leaking brain from here Helga the war hammer had hit it's head. He chuffs slightly and turns to following rune. Hopping off the path he runs parrelle to them. Again, to the right. Again, flanking.(decker)
The trail is child's play to follow. It's straight, unwavering, clearly marked by the chaos the Dancer left in his wake. Here and there pieces of fur cling where it had been snagged on a twig, a branch.And then the path simply...
stops.There's a hole in the ground, though. Straight down for ten feet, and then it appears to level off and go east. The mouth gapes large enough for a crinos to drop in feet-first, and from what they can see, the tunnel leading away is large enough for a crinos to walk through without stooping...but if they went in their warforms, they would have to go single-file.
(dire)
*Coming up to them he sniffs the air and his ears fold back looking at the hole.* ~WS~ Seen before. Metis make... Burrow hole.(rune)
The Glass Walker's nostrils flare, taking in only the scent of earth. Her head bobs low and paws scramble on the crumbling sod.Freshly dug. Offered over the packmind, then repeated in soft, chuffing wolfspeak, for Dire's benefit. The muzzle swings around as Dire speaks, and bobs in understanding. We go down.
...and with that, her form changes again, shifting up into her massive, mottled Crinos and then - literally - sitting down on the edge of the hole before dropping herself inside. Once inside, she changes once more to hispo, dropping easily to all fours and padding forward, yellow eyes swinging to survey the path ahead. The massive beast pads forward slowly, waiting for her packmates to follow.
(james)
okay this?
he hasn't seen before
it may not be the first time that he's fought Spirals
but he's always done it on his turf
meaning aboveground
he's only heard about these tunnels
he's never seen one
he's definitely never been at the point of considering going into onelooks like it's a day for new experiences
might as well see all the sights since they've come this farflesh moves and muscle grows
Chrinos crouching where the wolf stood
he takes advantage of a nearby chunk of granite in the ground
fingers spreading as talons drag over stone
honed and properly bladed
that's when he follows them into the earth(dire)
*he nods to James and Follows the bone gnawers moves exactly. Shift up to crinos. Sharpen claws. drop in.(decker)
The tunnel had appeared empty from above......and still appears empty now that Rune has dropped in. There are no Dancers with evil baneklaives waiting to destroy her, and no pack of howling devilwolves.
The tunnel, however, is utterly, lightlessly black, what little light from the hole fast fading into murk. From the slight breeze blowing past though, wet with the scent of freshdug earth, the other end (wherever it may be) is still open. And if the tunnel should cave in, they should be able to dig their way out through the three feet of earth overhead...
Rune's hispo form doesn't quite fill up the tunnel the way her Crinos form would have - she has a few inches on either side, and three or four feet over her head. Still, it's a tight squeeze. The Modi tails at her flank, so close that his breath stirs her fur. His rage is choking in these close confines.
James might be glad to note that the tunnel does not branch the way wyrmpits are rumored to, but instead seems to extend from one end to the other. Still, as they plunge into darkness, it's their other senses that they will have to rely on: scent and sound, the taste of the air and the feel of the earth. And still, everything is silent but for the sound of the pack moving through. Once, for a moment, Dire gets a niggling at the base of his spine, like maybe he listen harder...but then he's distracted by sounds echoed down the tunnel to them. There's a brightness ahead of them now, where the tunnel slopes sharply up not ten yards away, and there seem to be...voices...at the other end.
(dire)
*He follows along in the rear. Constantly watching their ass. If what ever is in here can get though the 3 infront of him he'll hear it coming. He keeps having flasbacks from that movie Aliens where they were in the walls*(rune)
Cramped in the darkness, blind, with only the scent of fresh-earth in flaring through her nostrils, the Glass Walker trots onward. No longer can they see her mottled coat, shaggy and without the pure definition of the Fenrir. Now they only see - or perhaps merely sense - the massive shadow of the hulking beast ahead of them.She approaches the brightness cautiously, nostrils flaring in an instinctive attempt to catch the scent of whatever lies ahead as she pads forward, sinking briefly to lupus as her ears twitch to catch what she can of the conversation, or at least distill and sort the tones - how many, what they're doing. Fresh air tickles across her nose, and she sends the sense of it back to her pack, born on Eagle's wings. She doesn't dare even a soft chuff to communicate the impression to Dire. They'll be at a disadvantage as it is.
The Glass Walker stops short, as the tunnel continues to rise, and there's a moment of indecision. The pack receives the impression of the dilemma - charge up through the hole, or waste twenty minutes doubling back and hoping to keep some sort of advantage, and hoping their scentless quarry doesn't disappear into the woods, some non-linear series of images, as she comes to her decision. Forward.
(james)
no branches are good
and so is the lack of claustrophobia
and let's not go into any phobias regarding light or the lack thereof
shoulders hunch from the tight fit
and he just sucks it up and followsguided by the closed in walls
following the scents of his packmates
fuzzy chin lifts on inhale to explore the fresh wind blowing past them
picking the unknown from that which he knows so intimately
velvet ears swiveling forward as if to catch the words on top of what Eagle brings them
massive paws stop and weight spreads toes in halt just behind the Modi
there's a flick of his tailthe only communication to Dire of what he can feel the plan is
he doesn't even dare a change of breath's pattern
shoulders rolling, listening carefully ahead for the barest signal
.... not about to risk tripping twice by a premature charge[okay, scratch the smelling thing, Decker still has trollskin on and so James' senses are now SINGED and DEAD and he's READY TO CLAW HIS SINUSES OUT]
(decker)
There isn't much James can smell. There isn't much anyone can smell, from the scent emanating off the Fenrir Modi's pelt. Whouuf. If you thought skunks were bad...There is definitely a fresh wind blowing by, now. On its back, Rune can hear voices as she sneaks closer...just two, one deep and slow, the other lisping at the edges, higher, and unpleasant. As she gets closer, though, there seem to be altogether two many feet for there to only be two up there. Of course, that's when someone shrills up above - a single, highpitched, grating noise rather than any sort of word, stabbing into the eardrums. Worse, from the thundering of feet, it sounds like it was some sort of an alarm, and whoever was up there was gathering around the mouth of the hole...
(dire)
He crouches. ears hurting but he still watches, smelles, listens to their rear(rune)
The alarm settles matters. They're sitting ducks down in the hole (she's thinking flamethrowers. she's thinking napalm. that's what she'd do.) and as the alarm sounds above the Glass Walker gathers herself back and then just (stupidly, because there's nothing else to be done. blindly, because she has no idea what's ahead) charges forward. Claws dig deep and deeper into the earth as she gains momentum and leaps from the damned hole in a burst of sudden speed.
(james)
he's a Bone Gnawer
.... and thinks Decker smells bad
but at the shrill sound his ears PIN
(oh. my. god.)
the thundering steps can't be good
the alarm really can't be good
not knowing what is ahead has got to be. much. worse.but he gathers himself to charge anyway, soon as the path clears
once again that furry freight train of teeth and deadly claws
lashing out at whatever doesn't look friendly
(let us pray there are no more roots)(decker)
Rune charges.
So Decker charges.
And James charges.Dire remains where he is, turned around to stare into darkness, ears pricked up - guarding their six. The three vanish up the tunnel and both Decker and James are momentarily blinded by the light. Rune, having been further ahead, has a better time of it, and she can see three. Three men. Three fomori. Three targets.
One, a nondescript man backing away. Two, an enormous giant of a creature, bulging with muscle that can't possibly be normal. If he flexes, he could literally split his skin. And three, a ...thing with entirely too many limbs (four arms?! four legs?!) and a blank, dead face.
All this seen in the flicker of an instant before pandemonium erupts. Rune moves fast, but unbelievably, too-many-limbs moves faster still, attacking her with all four claw-tipped hands at once, shredding. Humans can't possibly react so quick - but then Wyrm's favors are many indeed.
Many - and from the shriiiek that splits the clearing again, discordant and multivocal, the noise of insanity itself - expensive. It's the nondescript one that screamed. It's hard to wrap the mind around it, that such an unassuming creature could make such a noise.
Then Rune reacts with a threat of her own - a long snarl that sends too-many-arms staggering back a step or two as Rune turns on his compatriot - the huge one - and lays into him. It's an onslaught that should've laid him flat - but the creature is tough, supernaturally so, and stays on his feet, and strikes back. Hard. Draws blood.
Meanwhile, the grey beast launches himself over the head of the huge one, blurring and suddenly seeming much larger than before, black laced with hot blue-white gleaming suddenly in one hand as he, for the second time that day, leaps over an enemy. Time dilates for him - in his rage-bubble, silent and...peaceful, he sees the world crawling by in crystal clarity: the sweat on the arms of his opponents, the flash of his axe down.
The crunch of bone. The rupture of organs. And the discharging of bluewhite spirit energy, tearing into defenses raised by the Wyrm. The Modi lands on all fours and time accelerates back into motion. A wrench of his arm rips the axe out, swinging it on the same forestroke to very neatly lop the head of the screaming one off.
It bounces, it rolls, it stops at the feet of James - who tears claw and tooth into the many-limbed one, who proves not so very tough after all, falling quite easily under the Ahroun's furious onslaught. A tree root may have tripped him up before, but here James isn't playing around anymore.
Two down, one to go. Only...
...the tunnel over Dire's head suddenly caves downward. A black shape drops from nowhere, shrieking Whippoorwill's call as an ugly knife, the tooth of some great beast stained black with ichor, rends the Skald's side. Even with Dire's senses, he never saw it coming.
(dire)
*Dire.
ROARS!
A total roar of ingdination.
a Roar of Hate.
A roar of fury.
A roar of combat.
And as he roars Dire goes totally bugshit. Decker has seen it before when they battled the Spider. In the confined space Dire calls on his rage. Jaw goes for the fuckers throat., slamming his back aginst the tunnell he attacks with all 4 apendages, enhanced with the razor claws. Both arms swinging in blurrd motions, both legs swinging, holding himself up by his teeth on the things face and he lets out his war cry in times like these.* ;OIASEDLUIGLADBSLUGILDBGBUDSBLG,BLBVABSERILGBLNZRSGBLLCBAEg!!(rune)
One tear across her flank, another blow across her shoulder - snarl - the hispo-formed Glass Walker presses the assault, surging forward as hardened earth spews beneath her claws. The sudden eruption of movement as she spins and presses the assault.Rip. Claw. Tear. Die. (Fucker. Die.)
(james)
the mottled she-wolf breaks onto the surface
the enormous gray follows soon after
he was never one to abandon pack or hang behind
the giant is taken
the normal is taken
(.... and what in Holy Hindu Hell.....?)
tooooo many arms and legs but it. must. die.he sees.... bright light
he hears.... the impossible shreik before head rolls at his feet
he feels.... body exploding into nothingew
he can hear the battle cry coming from the collapsed tunnel
but he's closer to the last.... thing standing
weight shifts, pivots and lunges
blood in his fur splattering in the whorl
joining in the pressing attack(decker)
The giant may be strong beyond human comprehension. He may have been tough beyond human comprehension, too...but he's still no match for a full-moon. Much less three full-moons turning their simultaneous fury on him. He falls in a flail of massive fists and feet and, towards the end, even his blunt, human teeth.(...and three.)
The aboveground's cleared. Nothing left but mangled limbs (all eight of them from too-many-limbs), chunks of flesh torn out and strewn about, blood, fur, hair, skin. In the quiet, they can hear what's happening below -
- and it's not pretty.
Dire lunges for the Dancer - and the Dancer crackles suddenly with energy, roaring forward to meet him head-on. The Skald has enough time to see in the unaccountably growing (.electric.) light underground that the Dancer's maw is suddenly filled with greenish foam...rabies, frenzy...
CRUNCH.
.electricity discharges; poison is injected.The scent of singed fur suddenly fills the tunnel. Dire doesn't know this. The Dancer is biting him as he rips rends tears claws and bites her back. Dire doesn't know this, either. His world is red; it's madness, the sort of frenzy that exceeds normal measure, and delves into the deepest subconscious parts of a Garou, which is, ultimately, tragically, touched with the Destroyer.
Delves.
Sparks.
Releases--Thrall. of. the. Wyrm.
(rune)
The last of the Fomori falls, but the sounds of battle still rage from the tunnel. Blood still seeps from the she-wolf's wounds, matting down the fur upon her flank. She pivots sharply, spinning to dive back down the tunnel, spurred on by the sounds of battle. The fresh, chill earth has already been clawed loose by their forward charge, and now spews from beneath her great paws with every long, loping step back toward the battle in which the last of their ersatz pack is engaged.(decker)
One and then the other, the mottled and the grey, delving into the near-total darkness of the tunnel, where their dayblind eyes can barely see. But what they do see...(Dire's done lost it. That bitch used some power on him and he's done killed her. He's standing in her corpse skull fucking the remains in his frenzy...)
...and, seeing the backlit shadows of Rune and Decker, drops her like a sack of rotten meat, drops to all fours, and charges slavering and bleeding down the tunnel at full tilt, too lost in his frenzy to recognize friend from foe.
(rune)
The brief backpeddle ( - I did not see that - ) is the Glass Walker's first reaction to terrible vision in front of her. Then she's rising - from four legs to two - into her massive crinos form. Surging forward, the Ahroun meets the Skald's assault and embraces it, eschewing the first blow in order to land a more telling one.The Get falls upon the female crinos, claws raking a long furrow from her shoulder down her chest to her belly. She does not merely take the blow, she welcomes it with fucking open arms. They're practically stuck now, two massive beasts in space meant for only one of their kind, with rootlets and earth and rock and stone crumbling all around them. The Ahroun literally embraces the Metis: one massive paw closes heavy on his shoulder; the other swings around and slams ( - fucking. hard. - ) into the base of his skull. With her Crinos strength augmented by Eagle's own, it's more than the wounded Skald can withstand, and he crumples to the ground.
What follows is a long, slow drag and slow through the tunnel back up to blessed light (Rune never thought she'd be so happy to see the damn woods in her life) and another, longer slog back to the cabin for rendevous.
Decker returns to Erik, burdened with the supine form of the Crinos Get Metis. Rune and James - after a pause to lick their wounds - retrace their path through the woods back to town. They pause long enough to retrieve the discarded packs and check that someone came for Zoe and Luc (they did), then continue onward, pausing at the edge of the woods to change form once more (Rune making a makeshift bandage for her wounds from her second favorite silk turtleneck, black, because it does not show blood. It'll be a good excuse for a shopping spree.) before charging into town to heroically rescue Rune's Beemer from Hicksville, U.S.A.
Perhaps an hour or two later, the make-shift pack is back on the road, heading home.
Posted by james at 12:00 AM.01.25.03. - hunting the song keeper - journey to the blue mountains pt 3 [pack] *fog[forum]
(ST)
Zoe stands, looking to the west along a definite line. It does seem that she can see... something, though oddly there are still moments that she seems as blind as she ever was as she starts in that direction without really waiting for anyone.Dire, Rune and James stand around her as she stumbles away. Luc is guarding your backtrail, and Mick went out front to try and reign in Decker.
(dire)
*He snorts and shakes his head. This just wouldn't do at all. He looks to Rune as he walks beside Zoe. One arm reaching out to support her as he keeps Bubba the long black iron crowbar in his hand. His hyper acute sences ranging out in all 5 ways. Trying aginst hope to detect anything that might be out there stalking them.
He offers her his arm. Just letting her lean on it as she guides them. A deep breath. He just went from rear guard, protecting the kin to vanguard, protecting the big glowing target.
"If it comes to it..... I got dibs on War...."(rune)
Rune flickers a glance toward James as he catches up to them, eyes darkening in a faint frown as she reaches for his mind. "Zoe's seen some sort of a fuckin' path or something." She flickers her hands towards her ears, pantomiming answering a phone, and shakes her head darkly. Lowering the tone of her voice, she continues, "...he's not all gone, though."Maybe her packmate can see what she means in the effortless way she hefts their light packs - too easily, with a little more force than necessary - unused to such strength, particularly in this form. Several quick, easy strides then, and she draws abreast of Zoe and Dire, following the trail seen by the blind kin with more than a few misgivings.
(james)
fur bristles over his shoulders, feeling her call on Eagle
even though it goes to her - the reaction is instinctive
broad, shaggy head dips in a nod
there's not much he can do now but follow
using his eyes and ears and senses
knowing how much more sensitive they are than the others'
and just like before
he's got their backs(ST)
You angle off west, away from the cabin now, putting your trust completley in the hands of a blind kinfolk who might be recieving visions from some bevevolent force, or who might just be plain nuts. Anything for Gaia...Zoe saves her breath, speaking only to hurry you along, though in all fairness you could go much faster without her. But without her you wouldn't know where to go.
And aparently, your destination isn't too close...
(dire)
*He looks over his shoulder at Rune and James and gives a kinda srug. The left brow under the Get of fenris tattoo lifting to ask for further direction IF there was any.He sees her in glabro and shifts up himself. Gaining musel and a fine sheen of dark ash gray fur*
(rune)
Dire flickers a glance at Rune, and the Glass Walker flickers an annoyed glance at the kinfolk as she urges them to hurry the hell up. Fortunately, the kinfolk cannot see the look Rune shoots her, or the brief flare of annoyance as the Ahroun considers tossing Zoe over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and running backwards, as the faster choice."Faster." The brief, clipped word is her only response to Dire as they stumble through the underbrush. The several packs she carries hang from her shoulders as she flanks them, then strides ahead of the pair, gauging her path with glances back toward the kinfolk as she makes her own choices.
(james)
luckily he doesn't have lips that can talk
or else he'd surely make the comment he was thinking
there's just something..... inherantly wrong about following a blind kin
regardless of the circumstances involved
it just seems.... wrongstrides lengthen
pawprints slowly getting bigger
slipsliding right on into Hispo for the ride(decker)
Since the pack angled away, the Modi approaches not head-on, but from the right flank, crashing through undergrowth in great leaps and bounds to catch up. His muscles are tensed, claws digging in for traction as he comes abreast of the Beta.What happened? - barked tense, as he shoots a glance at Zoe. He slows - marginally - keeping easy pace now in long lopes. Visions again? Then, inadvertantly echoing Rune's sentiments, She's so damned slow. Someone should pick her up and carry her.
(ST)
Zoe has stopped, a few yards ahead now that everyone turns at Decker's arrival. And she is looking right at Rune. Right. At. Rune..."Oh, hurry. We MUST hurry." Then she tunrs and jogs away, stumbling over a fallen log, though she does not fall. "No time, no time..." You can hear her say to herself as she continues on...
(dire)
Dire had been thinking that actually but it would diminish his ability to fight when it came to that point. He concentrates and Bubba shimmers and flows up his arm. He nods and gently picks up Zoe in his arms Cradeling her softly and speaking in that melodic if a bit gruffer voice for being in glabro.* "Just give me directions. It'll go faster this way."(ST)
Zoe fends him off admirably, certainly seeming able to see him. "that way!" She points. "But I don't know for how long!"(rune)
"Visions again. Some fucking path or something, four horseman of the apocalypse. We're in some fucking - " the flare of nostrils, the words tossed down over the strong bunching muscles of her shoulder as she sends a glance toward Decker. " - Hollywood movie. Fuck."Snarled, the last word as she changes directions to catch up with Dire and Zoe. The packs are awkward, a lingering annoyance, but not yet an encumbrance, at least not as much of an encumbrance for now. One heavy, half-clawed hand settles on Zoe's shoulder as Rune draws abreast of them. "Straight that way?"
(james)
a huffed grunt carries the distance between them as Decker flanks in from the right
it's that unspoken pack communication, phrases in a single sound
(I'm back here, stay up there with the others)
but yep, he just lengthens stride to keep up
maintaining the slight gap between them
watching over their bigger picture while they watch ahead(decker)
Even those who didn't understand him could understand the irritation in the tight snarl that crackles across the air when Zoe fends Dire off. Either she lets him carry her in his arms, or I'll carry her in my teeth like a newborn cub. It's her choice.Tongue licks sharp white teeth. A beat later, growled lower, And someone tell her to be silent until she has something new to say. He'd had enough of her prattling on about how there wasn't any time - as if he didn't know already.
He does pick up his pace another notch, though, the ruff crowning his shoulders brushing against Rune's thigh as he sends an inquiring glance toward the packs. Need help? It's not totemphoned, per se, nor spoken; it's that grey area of pack communication: a glance, a bare gesture that speaks all that needs to be spoken.
(dire)
*He growls a little and looks to Zoe* Look. We arn't out on a nature hike. This is serious shit. Your seeing a path, that's great. Your also stumbeling around like a drunken mime. If I carry you we can move faster.And pardon me for saying so but walking straight down the "Path" what ever path there is sounds like a great way to run straight into an ambush or a trap.
*He looks to the others and then back to rune* So what do we do?(mick)
Mick, sensing all that was transpiring (perhaps..) started off in Glabro towards Decker. No pack phone was his, no pack bond...nothing...except a simple sense of urgency to find Decker and bring him back to the others in case .... well in case was a big what if....and Mick didn't like to traverse in the realms of what if's...Luckily, as the Fianna is headed to find the Get, whom isn't his most favourite of folk, the Get runs into him. Maybe he mumbled, 'c'mon'....or 'something's up' or maybe Decker simple knew through the bond of the pack that Rune was in need of him. But, whatever the reason or push behind the movement, Mick is stopped short in front of Decker, his gaze shifting to peer back at Rune and the others.
Glabro muscles are coiled and tense, dedicated clothing clings tighter to his bulkier mass.
(ST)
Her head swings around, back towards the mysterious path that isnt a path, and then back to you garou. "Ok, Ok. Carry me..." Her voice sags with defeat. "Hell!" Wow, Zoe swore. "I don't think there is any danger back here. Go on without me. go on! Go!"(rune)
"Yea - " the reply to Decker's inquiry is stopped short as Zoe swears. The Glass Walker's nostrils flare with faint irritation. " - no." The packs fall from her shoulder, sliding down the length of her arm to thud on the ground. "If there's anything any of you need, get it now. We'll go faster in lupus or hispo. Dire, you're free of kin-duty. Get her into a tree or something, where she won't be so obvious, then we go."The Ahroun crouches and digs through her pack, finding a pair of pistols in shoulder holsters and tossing them to the ground. Everything else is left within. Then her form begins to change, through the series - growing into her massive, mottled war-form, then shifting forward to four legs until she's a mottle female wolf with yellow eyes. She grabs the one of the holstered pistols in her mouth and pads, claws digging into the frosty layers of turf and leafmold as she grabs purchase on the uneven bank. She pauses several feet ahead, waiting for the rest of the pack
(james)
dark dark gaze sliiiiides over as Mick joins them
oh good, at least his damn weapons are back within some semblance of reasonable reach
not like they do him any good with paws at the moment
but that's better than them still off wandering around in the woodshearing Zoe gibber on, and swear, there's an irritated snort crawling up the path towards them
not like she made a bunch of sense anyway
but now it's becoming more and more random
Something ain't sittin' right at all.damn, Jamey-boy, that Rage is growing awful fast.....
when his pack is dropped
the monstrous shepard simply walks over to it
teeth closing around the twin rebar sticking out the top
muscles cording beneath ruff to puuuull the weapons out
a little concentration, a little shimmer, and a little flow
(for the expediency and economy of motion....)
soon enough he's joined Rune on the bank(decker)
The Modi draws up to the packs thrown down as Rune's stepping off to change. He noses the flap of the first one open, literally pawing through the contents for a second or two before snorting (nothing worth having), snapping up a piece of jerky that was poking out of the plastic, and trots to take the vanguard again.Perhaps we should leave someone with her, rumbled low to the mottled Rune-wolf. Then, as though realizing this was very nearly a 180-on his previous stance, the Modi adds, She's blind.
(dire)
Kickass! * he grins and damn if he doesn't grab her up. Gently, he's not a totall fucker. Put her over a shoulder. Dropping his bag he grabs something out of it. Grips it in his teeth then, Looks up and launches himself into a tree. Being in glabro he has more strength to pull it off too.
More liquid that solid in the air. Dire twists and grabs a branch. Useing one arm to hold Zoe tight he uses both legs and the other arm to scamper up that tree like a big ol monkey. bending and twisting, swinging out and up. He's 40 feet up before any of them can blink. Thinking that any higher might risk weak branches he plops her on one. Nods to her. Makes sure her hands are all secure.* Stay here please. * he hands her the 6 armed blue stitch doll* Carment sent this to watch over me. It'l watch over you. "
*He then leaps out from the branch. Body twisting in flight. Almost a die for the ground. Arms lashing out to catch a branch about 8 feet off the fround. twirls around it a few times. Cuts a neat flip and lands beside his bag. He grabs out the rope. Clips one flashlight to it. His weapons were dedicated.(mick)
Most might think the Fianna mute. He gives Zoe a sort of look that is indescribable with words, and turns from the Kinfolk closing his eyes as he slowly shifts from Glabro and through the various forms until he, too, is in his lupus form. His fur is a rusty hue with black flecks, and his eyes still hold a green gleam within their depths. Big as a wolfhound, which would be a bit more accurate than a dire wolf, Mick shakes like a wet dog before he too gets used to this body and begins to fall in after the group. The Fianna grabs nothing. His pack is left to sit.(ST)
Zoe all but sobs as she is carried up the tree, exclaiming "Oh!" now and then as she is jerked suddenly.This is when Luc runs up, still in homid form and out of breath. He stops to catch it, then looks up the tree when Dire comes out of it with a 'what the fuck' look on his face.
Meanwhile, up in the tree, Zoe is sobbing quietly to herself about being put in the dark... put in the dark again.
(rune)
The Glass Walker chuffs softly in response to the Modi, the sound stretched and shifted around the tight grip she has on the leather shoulder holster. Muzzle lifting, she flickers a glance toward Luc and then drops the damn gun long enough to growl a few instructions.Pack follow trail. Kin up tree. Watch her. The mottled wolf's head swings back from Luc, then bends to scoop up the gun again as she lopes off in the van with Decker, half a shoulder behind in deference to his superior knowledge of the woods, but no more.
(james)
there's a slight raise of a brow point
wondering if any food will be left in their packs when (.....if....) they return
a sound rolls in his chest that may resemble an amused chuckle
it's lost as he turns to lope after the others(decker)
Poor Luc. He was going to be bitching about this for days.The grey beast sets off, white-touched in a rough, thin-armed star up the throat, down the center of chest and across the crest of shoulders. He runs at a smooth, ground-eating pace, tongue lolling out. Now and then he slows, letting the rest of the pack pass him by, maw shutting to raise quivering nose to air, scenting ahead. Now and then, too, his mind touches for the totemlink, and his body reaches for Eagle's strength. The one is gone, completely and unnervingly blank; the other is not for his use, but at very least he could feel it roaring through his packmate's veins.
Did the Stargazer foresee what we would find, when we found the Song Keeper?
(dire)
*He grunts and turns. Dropping into lupus form on the go he ranges out to the right. A dark ash gray timber wolf. His nose scenting overtime. eyes looking around. Ears listening. He's silent for the moment.4 hoursemen indeed. He likes horse. Tastes like gamy caribou.
His voice comes from his position in the moving pack* ~WS~ Cabin... tied to a chair, somone interrigating, green lightbulb.. pain... 4 horsemen."
(mick)
The rusty coloured wolf shifts intelligent green eyes towards Dire as he huffs out the information in growls and sounds that no mortal ear could decipher. Mick pads along quickly, long legs allow him to keep up sufficiently without tiring out too quickly.(ST)
Luc grumbles considerably as the rest of the pack, and some who aren't even pack go to war. They are quickly lost to sight, and he feels as blind as Zoe. Oh shit. zoe!The pack runs int he direction that Zoe pointed, though there is no real trail that they follow. Its a desperate gamble, and in the end Zoe feels better about it knowing they will now go much faster. But what she doesn't know is that the pack has only her direction to follow, no scent at all. It is not very heartening...
But then the pack bursts suddenly into a clearing, and the hunt is over. There before them, some hunderd yards distant, is a pack of Spirals. Three in Crinos form, and one in glabro behind them. They face you and there can be no mistaking what they are. The one behind carries a huge duffle bag stuffed with...something... and he says something to his pack. They fan out, and he turns and jogs off...
(rune)
The Glass Walker's mottled coat blends well enough, in this land of browns and grays, in the firm, keen grip of winter, but their crashing passage through the woods has left little to the imagination. Half-a-step behind the Modi, the Rune-wolf snaps a glance at the scene and leaps over a rotting, fallen tree, brushing past her packmate (brushing his gray-furred shoulder, just. some brief nudge in the right direction) as she releases Eagle's strength to him.Then she's past him, no longer lupus, but hispo. The frozen ground churns back, spewed up beneath the bite of her claws as she charges forward.
(decker)
The Modi's hackles stiffen like a wire brush; his lips wrinkle into a snarl. No scent: he senses this as Rune doubtlessly does. Instead of skidding to a stop, though, he runs lower to the ground, and faster. In three strides he's in his enormous direwolf form; in six, a layer of pungent, thick, bark-hard hide has scudded over his skin. He seems bound straight for the tree crinos-Dancers still left in the clearing, racing neck-to-neck with his Beta until, a mere fifteen yards away, he veers off sharply to the left as Eagle's strength jolts into his muscles like the mother of all adrenaline rushes - and gives pursuit to the fleeing one.(james)
in homid he's got that strolling walk that covers city blocks tirelessly
the talent has crossed over from two legs to four
his mouth hangs open to taste the air
not to pant for breatha part of him feels bad for Luc left behind
wondering how the Skald is going to rationalize not being in the War
but as they cross that rise into the clearing
it seems they've found the War
hackles bolt upright to see the Spirals ahead
the low seeth that's been growing since they set foot in the woods instantly bristling to blistering hate
he can feel the roaring strength passed between them ahead
and when they split apart in their own charges
he's right up there with them, bolting towards the creatures in the clearing
Decker veers after the one fleeing
he stays true - ready to fight by his Beta's side(dire)
* Dire had been ranging out to the right so the pack wasn't in a line. Coming into the clearing from that side he instantly reverts to his birth form. That of a 9'3" dark ashen gray crinos. He powers twords the trio of spirals, low to the ground at first knowing they are going to see decker, runer and james before they notice him coming in from the flank. The large twi handed war hammer shimmers into existance in his massive paws. A symbol that dire ain't fucking around any more. as he ges closer their periferial vision HAS to lick him up. It's then that the Skald thorws back his head and leads them in the Anthem of war. pure melodic howls rippling out though the air, slamming into the Spirals as an almost physical force in and of it self the Get launches from the ground. more at home in the air it seems. Hammer swinging into play as battle is joined. His own gift to ignore pain is called apon, just in case.*(mick)
Mick, caught off guard by the scenario laid out before the pack (and him....not included in that P word), slowly kicks up dead icy ground and snow as he runs a bit faster, muscles expanding and bulking up as he slowly begins the shift to Hispo...not yet Crinos. Not yet. He heads for one of them which fanned out....and if all of those are being stalked by the Gaian's ... he'll back up Rune and James.(ST)
The pack rushes, and the enemy brings up rifles smoothly. Two of them fire, twice each. the third leaps, faster then even the Get Modi, and blocks his way.Four shots ring out... 3 Hit. Dire is tripped up by a shot to the ankle. Painful, but he is on his feet again and moving.
Rune hit in the shoulder, staggered, snarls defiance laden withthe power of the spirits and feels it surge across the yards.
Mick cliped on the ear barely feels it. He rushes on.
The middle spiral swings his gun towards Mick, who is closest now, and the third cowers back in fear, forgetting even his weapon, dropping it to the ground.
(rune)
The bullet catches the Glass Walker in the shoulder, a burst of blood, the crunch of bone beneath. Her charge is sidetracked as she staggers, but not quite halted. Snarling, she finds her footing again (the weapon carried in her muzzle dropped) and moves that much faster. Once more, she calls upon the gift, a spare, split second before she closes for combat. The hispo's powerful hindlegs propel her upward, teeth bared, strong jaw snapping for the closest enemy.(decker)
Everything starts to happen at once. The Anthem of War, filling his heart with rage; the sound of bullets and the muted sensation across Eagle's link of the damage inflicted on his packmate bringing a silent snarl to his terrible jaws; the blur of black as one Spiral leaps - faster even than he - and blocks his way.(You dare?)
Bearing down on the Spiral: a vision of black white and grey death. He doesn't slow. He doesn't falter. He charges straight for the Spiral, the odd tattoo of intersecting black jags taking on a distinct bluish glow as he bares his teeth and snaps at the air: true fear. You're mine.
(james)
closer.... closer....
the closer they get the bigger he gets
tapping into what's glowing so brightly in those mother earth eyes
Hispo to Chrinos on the music of Dire's anthemic howl
something darkens when the shots ring out and he can hear them hit his pack
(his.... lo....)
there's a Spiral there that hasn't dropped its gun (yet) or moved to swing it at another
and he's plowing into it with bared teeth and talons(dire)
*Stumbeling more from the force and tug of the bullet than any pain, His gift having already been activated he rushes onward. Thankful for his birthfoom and the fact that he heals even as he moves. Seeing the battle unfold he uses his good leg to launch into the melee from the flank. That war hammer coming around to bear on the BSD about to shoot the Fussy Fianna*(mick)
The ear that is clipped slicks back against his head, the faint tint of blood blends well with the rust coloured fur. The Fianna catches sight of the rifle as it swings his way, and he pushes a burst of energy into his hind quarters, propelling him to an awkward, if not disturbing, upright position as he takes one, two steps in a rather simian walking fashion towards the one in his sights .... and then it's a leap, his maw and dangerously hungry eyes seeking to lock on the Spiral's neck. The swipe from the hammer of the Get draws a deep guttural growl from the pit of the Fianna's stomach, and for perhaps a fleeting moment of stupidity, his eyes leave his prey and light on Dire...least he get smacked upside the head with the weapon in error.(ST)
Again, the spiral facing Decker moves faster than the Modi judged he could, rushing forward and plunging his claws through toughened hide and fur, into his belly. The spirals jaws press close to the Modis in a sickening smile...Then rune is there, snarling again her spirit defiance at this Spirals face. He hisses, actually hisses, and backs away slowly, earl laid back and tail slung low. Decker, though, is still on his feet and rips into the cowed Spiral. For a moment lost to rage and revenge, he comes back quickly.
The second spiral pulls his aim to catch up with the charging Mick (heh), and he does not see the Metis charging in from the blind side. Hammer meets skull, and fianna claws rip through its guts, spraying the spiral next to him cowerin in fear with blood and worse fluids. But the rifle thunders, pushed around by Micks bulk it explodes into its wielders groin, and another Spiral topples over.There remains but one, covered in its packmates vlood and cowering in fear. It brings up the rifle slowly, then drops it and turns tail.
And James.... Omega of the pack and looking to prove himself, goes down, attacked by a tree root and felled in mid stride.
(rune)
Blood in her mouth. Blood on the cold wind, hot. The impressions of the battle come both from her own extended senses and those of the rest of her pack: totemphone, hivemind, pack.The Glass Walker snarls some challenge. The image of the fleeing Glabro Spiral leaps into her mind - and then spills across the minds of her packmates as she leaps in the general direction of the last place she saw him. As she clears a frozen little stream, she changes to lupus in mid-air and hits the ground running, as fast and hard as she can.
(decker)
Rage and revenge. He wants to stay. Rip. Rend. Tear.
...but he had orders to follow.There's a snarl of frustration as the remaining Crinos runs for it, but the Modi doesn't give chase. Instead, the grey beast blurs suddenly, fourlegged hispo form leaving the ground (blood splashes out vividly red from somewhere) to leap over the one that had blocked him. He lands on all fours, smaller than the hulking dire wolf form he had inhabited an instant ago, and faster: a black white grey and red streak tailing the Glabro north.
(dire)
*Ripping his hammer from the back of the BSDs Skull he grins a wolfish grin and slaps the Fianna on the shoulder even as he turns to follow Rune and Decker. He stays in Crinos. Counting on his natural speed and agility to keep up. Darting after them the ashen gray wolf again flanks out to the right so they will not present a static target.(mick)
Mick does not have the ability to mentally know what the rest of them are doing, and dripping with blood and gore from fur to fang, the Fianna shifts to Lupus and trails behind the Eagle pack, strong long legs propelling him quickly as his ears slick back against the flat of his head.(james)
Rage burns hottest in those born beneath the full moon
it burns so brilliantly it blinds
and he discovers this in face-plant against ground
(that'll leave a mark)
it takes a moment for his head to clear
but he doesn't think about what happened
he doesn't think about what could be
just following that sudden link
(clinging to it)
the shift snaps through him again
talons digging into the ground
barreling after his pack.... he'll live the fuck-up down later
(ST)
You run en masse after the one you judge to be important. the one with the dubious duffle. Rune quickly gains the lead, and though at first decker is close behind, his wounds slow him when rage runs out and he quickly lags behind. And it is a long run, though eventually you all hear the sounds of traffic and smell exhaust. The road. The highway.Wether you shift to homid or not, you all come upon the road just as a red van peels out, and your cars no where in site...
But before it gets 100 yards down the road something inside it explodes... a Defening thunder... The van swirves, cutting across the highway steeply, and flips onto its side. Sparks fly as it skids thirty more yards and finally it comes to a stop...
A long moment stretches while you try and adjust to what happened, and suddenly the windshield explodes outward, and someone steps out carrying the duffle...
Its erik, with his double barrel shotgun fetish leaning on his shoulder. You can tell all the way from where you stand that he's smiling.
[couple forum posts to grab here and there]Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 24, 2003.01.24.03. - swift river - journey to the blue mountains pt 2 [pack] *fog[ohio to swift river, kentucky - forums]
(ST)
Its just a short drive... an hour ...to I-75 south, and back to a real highway. Exits every mile, sometimes more. And Cracker Barrels galore. Must be the State eatery of Ohio or sumthin...And that's about all there is to see... Cracker Barrels, Outback Steakhouses, Joe's Crab Shack's... God damn people in Ohio must eat alot. There are at least three resteraunts at every exit, hanging like parasites on the veins of the Weaver. Well, at least you missed Toledo. That's something.
You pass south through Piqua in Maimi County (Maimi in Ohio? WHo would have thought?), motor through Dayton and keep on truckin. Decker's tired, Rune's asleep, and James is having entirely too much fun driving the Beemer. Luc's bored, and so are Mick and Dire, and they're all following a blind woman. No wonder tempers are near the surface.
No wonder Erik stayed behind. 'To guard the territory,' Fuckin alpha looks smarter every time you look at him...
Ohio passes, finally, and Kentucky is breached. But there is still some driving to do until the rural route is reached that leade to Swift River City, almost all the way to Tennessee. Thankfully, it passes without incident... Totem phone working the whole time.
Take rural route 30 west for 30 minutes, 20 for James and the Beemer, and there's the sign. Swift River, and sure enough, a bridge over a river, probably running swiftly. Just past the bridge is the drugstore, parking out front, the church across the street, and that's it. Hardware store on the 'other side of town', about a quarter mile further down. Now, if memory serves, the Caern is somewhere to the North, and the residence of the Song Keeper somewhere to the South. Which will it be? Never got a response from the Caern...
((H'okay. Make the final plans. There are people about, and like most small towners won't want much to do with you. I would like to get you hiking by this weekend, and I am thinking that next weekend would be a good time for a scene. Endevoring to nail down a time I can be on.))
(mick)
Mick doesn't care. Well he cares, but on a level that he doesn't comprehend at the moment. Mick knew about angels. His mother was a nut about catholicism. He learned about the angels and the devils and Mary and Jesus, and the almighty. There was a thought that sort of .... bothered Mick. One that he didn't want to consider alone in his own mind for the moment.Before Dire can clamber into the back of the truck, Mick walks over to the Get, scratching the back of his head.
Hey, Dire ...." he begins a bit hushed. " ....you ever read the bible? My mom was a religious freak. Well mainly she was a nut over the catholic religion. Anyway ..... what if this is the beginning of the mortal time of revelation?" Green eyes shift over the bland landscape of the Ohio countryside as he speaks only for Dire to hear. "There's a quote in the bible ' Then I saw an angel coming down from heaven, having the key to the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand.He laid hold of the dragon, that serpent of old, who is the Devil and Satan, and bound him for a thousand years. And he cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal on him, so that he should deceive the nations no more till the thousand years were finished. ' What if this is the mortal's way of hearlding our War?"
Mick looks anxious. Tired. Irritated. Confused. But he doesn't take the time to bestow his fair knowledge of mortal religion on Rune or Decker or anyone else .... he nabs Dire before the Get can climb in the back of the truck.
(rune)
The Glass Walker's climbs from the truck and stands and stretches ever fiber of her being. Goddamn, she's stiff. That was a long, long, long drive, and where the hell are they, anyway? There are faint circles beneath her eyes from smudged mascara, and her usually red lips are much more pale, now that the lipstick applied the morning before has worn off. Stubbornly, perhaps foolishly, she rubs the sleep from her eyes, smearing the remnants of her make-up into an even darker, deliberate shadow against her pale skin.Yawn. The flash of white teeth and pink tongue between. And stretch: again and again and again: long arms, long limbs, long, sweet-curving spine. Worked and worked and reworked until she feels limber once more. As a cat, baby. As a fucking snake.
"Stretch. Get something to eat. Take a piss. I'll be back in ten minutes and we'll figure out what we want to do." She's standing behind the Beemer again, fingers drumming lightly on the trunk waiting with her usual (im)patience for James to come and unlock the trunk. Several bags removed, Rune spins on her heel and heads to the drugstore and the public bathroom it must contain.
She'll emerge, ten minutes later, looking like a new woman. Amazing, really. Ordinary days, it takes her an hour or three to get dressed, made-up, and presentable. Today, she manages the same thing in a public bathroom in ten minutes, like some sort of make-up MacGuyver. Whatever voodoo she invoked in there, she emerges in her dedicated clothing, sensible hiking boots firmly on her feet, with her dark hair shining - clean - and wet in the chill winter air, falling all around her face in inky, wet clumps.
Her pale face is freshly scrubbed, and the usual mask of make-up has been carefully, precisely re-applied: dark liner around her eyes, smokey shadow emphasizes the distinct, sharp line of them, mascara darkening and elongating and emphasizing the shape and sweep of her pale lashes, crimson lipstick gracing her (ever) smirking mouth.
A whole new woman, the other skin shed as easily as a snake sheds its own. The Glass Walker lights a cigarette (strippa pink, of course) and leans against her beloved, begrimed little Beemer, waiting for the rest to show up, waiting for them all to gather 'round. As an afterthought, perhaps, before getting down to the heart of their business, she shoots a dark-eyed gaze towards Zoe. "Anymore fucking dreams?"
(decker)
Decker's tired, and then Decker's sleeping too. Mick's driving the last leg, beginning past midnight and stopping when the sun came up. Don't wanna? Hadn't napped during the day? Tough luck. Rune didn't look like she was waking up anytime soon, and if Mick didn't take over the wheel Decker was gonna fall asleep and ram them off the road, red van or no.(...zzzz...)
Dire in the back, probably freezing his ass off. Mick in the driver's, Rune in the shotgun. Zoe and Decker in the backseat, leaning against their respective doors, sleeping fitfully.
When at last they pull to a stop in the Bluegrass State (is that what they call it, anyway?), Decker cracks open an eye with the jolt of Rune's door against the truck's frame. Half-curled in the uncomfortable back seat, he fumbles the door open and steps out. Ahhhh... Maybe Dire had the right idea, sitting in the bed. Probably bruised his ass from getting bounced around so much, but bruises heal easy for him, and he had pleeenty of legroom.
A nod up for the Skald, probably red-eyed now from staring through darkness all night. Such is the lot of sharp-eyed temporary Omegas in their temporary pack-thing. Then Decker heads for the bathroom, too, rejoining the others a few minutes later, silent as he was ever wont to be.
(dire)
Dire pauses and listens to Mick. He’s been a bit busy trying to step on a rather nasty goblin that had been trying to look up Zoe’s pants. Granted he was trying to not LOOK like he was trying to step on a goblin. So when Mick comes up he’s all attentive to the Fianna and nods listening. Frowns a bit at all that and sniffs the air that is the Metis’s way. When the goblin takes a bite out of Dire’s leg how ever he gives a snort and shifts his weight, booting it back under the truck.
Thankfully it was at the part where Mick asks if this is the mortals’s way of heralding our war.Dire nods, reaching down to rub at his shin.
”Yes, I had a chance to read though the interesting parts as a pup. The Caern I grew up in was in the extreme Canadian north… so cold that blood would freeze before hitting the ground… it’d bounce and make the prettiest noise.. but that’s neither here nor there.”He puts his shin back down keeping an eye out for that little green fucker.
“I always kinda thought that mortal Religions were off shoots of our tales and spirituality. After all. We are creatures of half spirit. We are uniquely attuned to the spirit world like no mortals are. Yeah sure every once in a blood moon you’ll find one of the spiderface caern rapers in the umbra or something but usually their eyes get huge seeing us coming tight before we kill um. But the fact is we KNOW our religion is correct. We can interact with ours. The mortals… they pray to a god that is never there for them.”
The metis gestures broadly with a hand, seeming to encompass the surrounding trees. Coincidentally bitchslaping the goblin off the tailgate of the truck where it’d climbed trying to peek at Runes cleavage.
“ Our religion is all about us. Every day. We can go into the spirit world and see it. Touch it. We can feel it in our bones and we can even visit planetary incarna. So I didn’t put too much faith in the bible… pardon the pun.”
The young skald smiles. Reassuring Mick, that’s what the Skalds do. They rally the troops in times of need. He puts feeling into his voice. Passion that flows into it that a Fianna of all people could pick up on and internalize.
“Take heart. You are Garou. You have people around you that will not let you fall. And if we are to fear the words of man from his book, then remember also the words that pertain to us. The words that undoubtedly personify us.
Thou art my battle axe and weapons of war; for with thee will I break in
pieces the nation, and with thee will I destroy Kingdoms;
--Jeremiah 51:20and also
Now is the end come upon thee, and I will send mine anger upon thee, and
will judge thee according to they ways, and will recompense upon thee all
thine abominations.
--Ezekiel 7:3but don’t for get other words like…
And I will delever thee out of the hand of the wicked, and I will redeem
thee out or the hand of the terrible.
--Jeremiah 15:21We will be ok… and if these creatures be angels… don’t forget mans own words…
Behold, he put no trust in his servents and his angels he charged with
folly....
--Job 4:18”Oh yes it truly seems that on those cold winter nights that a young skald very much read the books availed to him. He devoured them. When locked in concentration he doesn’t see the goblins. That’s part of the reason he loves Carmen so much. When totally focused on one thing, just like anyone else, other things fade to the wayside. Focusing on raising a 4 year old little girl lets you easily forget about other things for a while.
“So hang in there Mick. We’ll see this though to the end. We’ll get the gob done.”
He pats the Fianna on the shoulder as he swings a leg into the bed of the truck. Yet again kicking the goblin off.
”And if you need something to reflect on that might directly relate to our quest… think on this phrase.
I broke the fangs of the unrighteous, and made him drop his prey from his
teeth.
--Job 29:17That’s us man.. you.. me.. Rune-rhya… Decker, James.. even that weird one. We are Garou. It is we whom break the fangs of the unrighteous. And we’re goin’ to do just that. Or die trying. Now.. I don’t know about you, but I’m not too keen on dieing. I fully plan to out live all of yall. That being said. I don’t plan on letting anyone fall by the wayside.”
The young skald makes eye contact… eye contact with a madman is sometimes a very intimidating thing. Seeing the world twisting and playing tricks behind those eyes, but in this moment Dire looks completely lucid (( for once)) the blue eyes, color of glacier hearts ice look to the Fianna.
”Trust in your fellows Mick. If nothing else… I won’t leave you behind. If the shit hits the fan we either all get out or I’ll die trying to get us all out.”
Then the Skald smiles and looks over his shoulder. Snorts and whispers to Mick
”And mind the goblins… they are getting thick…..”
Then the ride. Oh the ride.
Decker was right. It got cold back there. First he zipped up the jacket that was too sizes too large. Then he rummaged in his back and found the long gray flannel toboggan cap. Tugged it tight over his head. Then it got colder in the night and the get got a bit pissy. Yep even Get of Fenris can get pissy. So he’d shifted up to glabro. More filling out the jacket and getting that sheen of gray insolating fur going. He just tucked his chin into the jacket. Kept the flannel toboggan on letting just his eyes and ears poke free. This wasn’t really cold yet. Just windy. Cold was when you spit, you had to break the ice from your tongue.
Getting to the town he shrinks down to homid again and hops from the bed of the truck. He rotates his left arm. It still gets tinder from time to time. Yes Garou can heal most anything but that arm had been totally ripped off once and I don’t care how badass you are that stings. He looks around and nods to Decker. Grinning a bit and tossing him a can from his own backpack. One of those slender cans that cost like 2 bucks. Kept cold by being out in the truck. A can of Adrenaline, the energy drink put out by pepsi these days. Yes… the madman just gave a Get Ahroun an energy drink. He pulls one out himself and sips. Makes a face at the taste and walks around to stand beside Zoe. Snorts.
”I don’t’ like this place… feels… oily.”
(zoe)
Long ride, quiet, dull. . oh wait she had spent how many days in the Barrens with Rhya Gabriel's trees as company. . . no, this was shades better on the company scale though at least he had wanted her around. Yeah, thats a vibe easily gathered. Dealing with it in her usual way, quiet composure. Besides, her mind was constantly running, constantly assessing, and when she slept, going whereever it is she drifted now.Kentucky. A state she had not ever visited. Listening to them talk, stretch, move, she's just glad to breathe in air that wasn't stale and move about a bit. Not too much. Gaia knew where anything was here.
"No, Rune, nothing more. . .yet."
Pessimism to think more might come? Hope? She actually hoped for more, if only to keep them looking in the right direction. Bad as they could be, she needed to see to be of any true use.
"I'll let you or whoever I am with know when I do. You may know it before I do, anyways."
Having seizures all of the sudden is a good sign something was up. Leaning on her staff some, she had no idea what anyone else looked like. She knew she looked tired and bedraggled. Did she care? Who is she trying to impress? She's just trying to save lives.
(james)
[i]Entirely[/i] too much fun in the Beemer.It's only the third or so time he's driven it. Each time has involved a highway of some sort. But now? Now he's got the hang of this driving thing. There's no problem putting the pedal down to keep up with Decker in the Tacoma. They've been through most of the carefully packed CDs, and even a radio station or four. He knows the young Skald was getting bored so gave him free reign over the music choice.
"Yeaaaaaah. That one." The GlassWalker would not appreciate finding one of the models from Luc's girly mags glued to the inside of the convertible's top with gum that's lost its flavor, so the Gnawer showed him how to make the most out of the vanity mirror that's on the backside of the passenger sunshade. Tear the page out. Fold it in half. Slip it over the dropped shade. Yeh, Luc, just like that. Something a little more palatable for the teenager to stare at than miles of endless midnight asphalt. Long as he doesn't try to light a few candles on the dash to create an altar in tribute to her scantily (if) clad curves, all should be good.
By the time they reach the parking lot, they've been through four models.
Somewhere along the way, he shed the patchworkquilt coat. Few hours later, Luc had used it as a pillow against the unforgiving sculpted interior of the door, then it got shoved down into the meager passenger footspace. Peeeeeeeeeeling himself off the leather, he doesn't bother putting it back on, now - and it's quite the revelation to actually stand up straight instead of that forced luxury curve of the driver's seat. Opening up the Beemer's trunk, he grabs his pack, too.
Five minutes later he's back from the bathroom. Tired, road zombie circles washed from under his eyes. Dark gray bandana retied to keep heavy dreads in place. Teeth brushed. Clothes clean. Since he used his old dedicated shirt to bury what remained of the Fang Kin, he finally got around doing up a new one. One of the thick, soft, double-stitched, non-torn, non-stained new ones Rune bought him. Stands out against the ripped and ragged and stained and repaired four times over BDUs, and the skuffed desperately in need of a polish tank boots. He has a feeling that won't last long.
Alice pack shoved back into the trunk. Some cash is pressed into Luc's hands along with the instructions to go back into the drug store and buy whatever drinks anyone wants. Juiced. Caffienated. Coffeed. Tead. Whatevered. The ice in the coolers melted long ago, and dammit [i]he[/i] wants something that's still cold if nobody else does. Then he's walking back inside, too. Without a diner or fast food joint in sight, he figures the drugstore is a better option than the church for food. It's not piping hot or anything that'll stick to their ribs, but food is food, who knows if and what they'll be eating when they're out in the woods.
This time it's a ten minute stretch. He knows his pack and their appetites, doing the best he can with what's available, then making an educated guess for Dire, Mick, and Zoe. Two paper bags - full - are set on the Tacoma's hood, and he's digging out the box of chocolate donuts and bag of jerky for himself. Snagging a liter Coke from Luc's return.
The GlassWalker leans a curved hip against the Beemer's hood. The Gnawer sits against it on the other side, then just gives in: boots sliding on gravel, weight shifting down and leaaaaaaaaaning back across the grimey dusty hood. [i]Finally[/i] stretching out the lumbar knots that had worked themselves into his anatomy on the drive with the reverse arch of muscle. Between the relaxing stretch, the food, the fresh air, and the fact that the world finally stopped moving at 75mph along white and yellow lines... he's downright comfortable sprawled on the sculpted metal (imagine that). He'll just listen from riiiiiight here. Don't mind him.
(rune)
James returns from the drug store with two paper bags stuffed full of whatever he could find. The elegant Glass Walker digs through the contents with as much enthusiasm as any of them, settling for a Slim Jim, a bag of cheddar cheese goldfish, and a bag of pretzels. Silence ensues, broken only by the crunch crunch crunch of molars crunching crispy baked snack foods. Yum.The first wave of her hunger broken on the sacrificed bodies of the Slim Jims and (smiling! - she, like everyone, bites their heads off first) goldfish, the Glass Walker comes up for air, or, rather, nicotine. Lighting up gives her time to study the rest of the pack as they return from the drugstore and church, whereever they've been.
"We need to figure out - " Rune begins, exhaling a long plume of gray smoke, flicking her dark eyes from Garou to Garou (and, occasionally, to kinfolk) " - where the hell we're gonna go. North's the Caern, somewhere." Lowering her chin and favoring them all with a smirk, the Glass Walker falls silent as an old jalopy putters past, resuming only when the ancient car is well out of range. "South's the damn Song Maker person. Never got a response from the Caern, don't know its status. We have Zoe's dreams telling us of the urgency that we find the Song Maker as soon as possible. If you've got an opinion on where we go first and why, now's the time to state it, and why."
Rune looks at each of them in turn, but mostly her gaze lingers on her packmates. Suddenly, though, the order is reversed and she settles a flat, dark-eyed stare on Mick. "You're from around here, right?" Another drag, drawn and expelled. "Or at least, you were here. Any reason the local Sept would feel snot-faced about answering out query? Any idea who the Song Maker might be?"
(james)
"As proper as it may be to check in with the locals before our hike." Pausing to navigate lighting up a Camel without actually sitting up, the heat of the engine seeping up through the metal is doing wonders for his back. Most of his own food was finished even before everybody got their turn at the bags, and the plastic bottle is resting against his hip, half full (not empty, full). "We know that this isn't contained in just the Barrens anymore, given what Imogen told us was happening up North, it's seemingly spreading, and we don't know how far or fast. I'd heed the urgency. Question is, given our time frame..." The Camel used to gesture towards where Mick is, or at least where he last remembers the Fianna being, since his eyes are now closed behind the shades, knowing that he'd have the best idea of what any local reception would be "... how much of an insult would it be to blaze on past them.""If they're still there." No answers leave a lot of possibilities open. Snot-faced is the most positive out of any options that have gone through his mind. "Or if this is something in which their help would be useful, whatever it is we'd receive of it." If at all left unsaid. Funny, how much easier it is for him to speak of an entire Sept being wiped out than it is for him to say anything of what reasons they would be more of a hinderance - even danger - than a help.
[in progress]
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 23, 2003.01.23.03. - on the road again - journey to the blue mountains pt 1 [pack] *fog[new jersey to kentucky, forums]
(rick/st)
Erik stands before the pack... The whole pack, for a change. Seems this 'problem' in Batso has their interest, and the Alpha can't disagree. They've even got a plan. A well thought out plan. Or close enough. But as they look to him for leadership, he has to tell them that they'll have to go without him. He's got things to do.Like?
Like guarding the territory! Who said that? Eh, doesn't matter.
So, good luck, and all that. Mick? Who's this Mick guy? Fianna, huh? Well, have fun then.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 22, 2003.01.22.03. - apologies [tristan][north jersey, retro]
(tristan)
Eventually, he collapsed into bed again, and through some halfawake memory he remembers Diego having to untangle and go upstairs before heading off to do something or another and a sleepy kiss left him alone with a promise to stop by later on.
The day has continued to pass, then the night, and now? He's been awake for a while now. Entirely too much to think about now - piecing together other pieces and parts of the evening, hoping to find he didn't do anything else quite as idiodic as what he did to James. A call to the condo left a message. "James? Tristan. I..we..fuck. call bef.. shit. yeah. you know. anyway *click*" right after he woke, but there's still been no word.
Showered again, he's worked his way through the apartment, and now everything is put away, stowed into some semblance of order, and he's collapsed on the couch again. Arm over eyes, beer that he's been nursing for a while resting against belly, relaxing, finally, enougth to contemplate practicing for a while.
A few moments later, lean muscle crunches, pulling him to sit up, beer set on the coffee table, and the violin case pulled out from underneath. He sets it on top of old, yet studry table, opening it and pulling out his Violin. A few moments tuning, and soon the soft strains of mozart fill the small apartment.(james)
it's late
or more.... early
sometime well past midnight when the Beemer arrives home
sometime well past -that- by the time they remember to check messages
she's moved upstairs
he's grabbed the phone and gone onto the balcony
thumbing the number while lighting up a Camel
patchwork coat shrugged up higher in some semblance of warmth
sinking into the chair only to let it lean back
boots climbing to rest on the balustrade
just waiting for the pickup
and after it happens"S'James."
(tristan)
Phone rings, and instantly music stops, violin set inside case, bow on table, and stretching reach pulls long arm across the couch to the side table, cordless (that indeed works) grabbed, thumbed on and tucked between shoulder and ear. "lo?"
A pause, all movement ceasing at the first word.. and everything wanted to say suddenly flees. A pause, filled only with breath, and then. "hey."
Little sounds, shift of material over skin, clink of bottle picked up, a few swallows to finish it off, before its set down again... elbows on knees, eyes on the table before him, and finally... "y'alright?"(james)
there's the crackle of burning tobacco
somewhere within that long pause
he was hesitant to call, for some reason
but dailed before he let himself think about it"Hey."
soft, warm... and tired, too
letting himself sink down to slouch in the chair
watching his breath fog with smoke and heat".... Yeh." it's thoughful "You?"
(tritsan)
He finds himself discecting the tones in his friends voice, pulling the warmth, the tiredness, the hesitation all in those few words, monosyllables.
fingers scratch through curls, just letting them fall again, gaze dropping farther from table to floor below, contrast of skin and the oddcolored carpet getting intense scrutiny.
And finally, a slight smirk, smal chuckle.. "Alright. cept for feeling like a complete ass and kicking myself for making your life a whoooole lot more complicated."(james)
Tristan, unknown, looks at the floor
James looks instead to the night sky
quietly observing what can be seen of the stars amongst the clouds
and then there's soft laughter
a breif chuffed sound"Actually..... it cleared a few things up for me."
(tristan)
The laughter brings gaze up a bit (oh be real boy, and shove that thought right out of your pretty little head.) and shuffle crinkle tap flash inhale..... slow exhale as lighter is tossed back on the table. Slight grin, and brow lifts - all unseen, but what's in his voice is some sort of amusement... "S'that a good thing?"(james)
"Yeh, it turned out to be a good thing."he doesn't particularly give details
but there's a.... serenity... in his voice
things that only come from the clarity of epiphany"I'm not mad, at what you did.... so don't think that."
(tristan)
As much as he wants too - he doesn't ask for details, either. It's not his place, it's not his business, and that.. serenity.. well maybe it gives a clue, maybe it doesn't, but any opinion he has in the matter is carefully held deep inside.
"Well..." chuckled, a little, he continues to pay a bit more attention to the floor then anything else... "that's good to hear. doesn't make me any less sorry."
A conversation filled with paused, an uneasiness deep inside that will take time to dissipate... and something.. unreadable.. in dark eyes that can't be seen anyway. "I never would have.... if I wasn't drunk - I just want you to know that. I never would have put you in that position." Well. Not, you know, in reality anyway...(james)
"Are you so sure?"softly, softly chided
that easy smile cant be seen, but it can be heard
how odd, to have so many conversations filled with pauses in one night
both of them dealing with such deep matters
(still wondering what he would have done....)
maybe he can't see what's in the kin's dark eyes
maybe he can hear it.... maybe he can't
either way, not a word is said about it"But I know. And I could have said no at any time. I didn't at first, and don't regret that."
(tristan)
Ah - there it is. The boyish grin that just suddenly appears, a shake of his head that brings curls in a shish over the phone. "Well... ok. maybe not completely positive." chuckled, ruefully, and he leans back into the cushions and just slowly relaxes... "but you know.. only in those dark demented fantasys that happen in the deepest sleep.." He chuckles, softly... and nods.. "I don't either. I wasn't lying... she's really lucky..... and scary as hell when pissed - she's not gonna like.. kick my ass right?" mostly.. playfully.. asked...(james)
"I can dig that."laughed as well
not like he can control the boy's thoughts
(and what ones did you have, Jamey-boy)
and it's strange for him
to actually know about being thought about that way
he's always just erased himself, before
it took Rune to redraw him into so many picture"No, she's not.... but she won't share, either."
just how do you put that tactfully?
and knowing the conversations they had before
maybe that explains some of the tones that color his voice(tristan)
He laughs, low and easy... Now, he can't control his own throughts, he can only wonder about the others.. and he can only hope it doesn't color anything wrongly from here on out. Momma'd tan his hide if he fucked this up, specailly by being stupid. Since she found out who he'd met here... well. Thats a story for another time..
The rest filters through, and the warm contentment, the soft.. peace.. that can be heard, and even felt through the phone, softens that smile even farther..
He knows.
he knows, and all the things that could never be said, were. "So you really are all right then. Can't tell you how happy that makes me.." and the warm sincerity in his voice is obviously genuine.(james)
"Yeh, I really am." chuckled softly "I wouldn't lie to you about it. If it weren't for what happened, things never would have been said, and things wouldn't be allright. So I guess I wanted to call before we left to make sure you knew that."didn't the kin leave the message?
maybe now he knows he didn't have to...(tristan)
He nods, and leans forward to stamp out that smoke in the tray, exhaling another soft chuckle. James think he didn't need too - but he did. if only for himself as it turns out, but he had too. A chuckle, and a nod.. "Well then, I did my good deed for the day.. and enjoyed every minute of it.." Oh so warmly teased in slight softening admission.. but throat clears, and he chuckles. "Well, I have one big rule - steer clear of the taken ones." Mimic of what was said before, but definately meant... "and no more of Diego's tequilia. goddamn, even." outright laughed.
He stands, bare feet carrying him to the kitchen area, fridge opened, bottle grabbed, top popped swallow taken. "So everything's a go for tomorrow then...need me to do anything for ya'll while you're gone?" Water plants, check things out, make sure things are taken care of...(james)
he hears that admission
and..... doesn't make one himself
even if there's the pause of breath that said he might've"Erik's staying at the condo while we're gone, he's taking care of things here. We're pretty much set. You have this number and Rune's cell if you need anything. We're leaving at sun-up... so I should get some sleep." another pause, and then his affection for the Kin is clear, family "Take care of yourself, Tristan, I don't want to read about you in the paper - for any reason."
it's said in tease, but there's a seriousness in his tone
nothing said about 'when I get back'
nothing said about the chance he may not come home
he's one of Gaia's chosen
tomorrow is never a certain thing
so you say what you need to now(tristan)
He has spent time on the fringes of the War (though sometimes those at home fight twice as hard, if only to let the ones they love go) and he knows what isn't said and what has to be said right. now.
If only for that? he'd have no regrets... it shouldn't have happened, it won't ever again.. but he's glad it did. A nod, and softy chuckled grin, affection returned (family) in the soft "I will.. and watch your back out there, man." Be careful, come home - and do the same. But there are no promises, there is nothing that guarentee's the Chosen will return. And he? just leaves it at that... there's the understanding between kin, between family, that keeps all things unwritten, but enough said that everything is understood.(james)
it's hard
and it's strange
it's been two years since he's let himself get close to others
since he's had any that would be left behind
up until now, those he cared about, his pack - they fought the battles beside him
so there was no one waiting at home
and it causes him to pause, to realize that
to realize there's someone waiting, now"I will..... goodnight, Tris."
never goodbye - for what good is there in a finality such as that?
he spends a moment, studying the phone after the line's cut
then weight shifts to pull himself from the slouch and the chair
quietly letting himself back into the condo
placing the phone back on the cradle to charge
boots warily climbing the stairs
walking into whatever tomorrow may bring(tristan)
"Goodnight, James." Murmured, and the line is cut, and he too studies the phone.
Three years. It's been three years sice he had this feeling of being left behind, of not being one of the chosen to fight, to be there for the pack - of being pack. It's an empty feeling, and a fulfilling one as well. Maybe Momma was right, maybe it was about time.
Phone placed on the base, and fingers slide through hair. He's worried. He feels useless.
He's.. got a whole lot of things to do to keep his mind off of what James and the pack are going to face. May as well start now.Posted by james at 12:00 AM.01.22.03. - need to talk [rune][north jersey]
(rune)
Its the fourth day of her absence. That's not so entirely uncharacteristic. She has gone before for a few nights at a time, with no word of where she went, or with whom, other than perhaps a disgusted look at her cell after checking her voicemail and a half-muttered tribal business. The Beemer's still in the parking lot, though, now covered with two finee layers of the powdery snow that falls when the temperature drops well below freezing, untouched and idle. Likely its the only car in the parking lot with such a virgin coat (not quite virgin. who can resist sliding his or her fingers through the untouched snow on an idle car, when everything else has gone to ice and dirty slush and half-ruin?), since no one in the northeast stops long after a small snowsquall. Life keeps moving through the long hard months of winter, because life must. There's been no brush of her mind with any of the pack, just some strange blank wall had anyone tried.James. It's sudden, not quite tentative, but not precisely forceful, the brush of her mind against his own. Sometime late in the day, mid-afternoon, the watery shadows case by the weak winter sun have grown long, thrusting a few flimsy fingers through the slats of the blinds darkening the sliding glass doors to the balcony. There's only the impression of darkness, early night, where the living room windows, facing east, front the parking lot. Somehow, it always seems like that in winter. Night comes to half the world half-way through the afternoon. There's a pause, then, the briefest of pauses. Enough for a response, even if it is little more than a sleepy query back carried across Eagle's broad wings.
The impression of hesitation, second-guessing, firming into something closer to resolve. I need to talk to you. Garbled, amusement, faint, bitter, self-mocking and raw, the briefest sense of it, accompanied by an impression of a hotel sign Coach's Inn and some no-name no-tell motel, its squat concrete structure flat against the winter sky. Route 62. Half-way to East Orange. Bring the car?
She waits long enough to hear his response, but the connection is soon closed. Some things require words spoken, rather than shared. Some raw things must be distilled into the framework of language in order to be tamed and reasoned and rationalized, some words deserve to be spoken.
(james)
four days
it's not uncommon, no
and he'd busied himself with helping out the Kin
menial other things to get ready for the trip they were taking
but with the Beemer still sitting there
maybe he was beginning to get a little worried
maybe that's why he chose to do what he did last night
even if he still ended up dragging himself back to the condo
(her condo)
and passing out on the couchhe and the Modi ran whatever preperatory errands they needed to
eight forty friggen five ey em
get things ready for the pack to head south
and once home, he crawls right back onto that couch
letting the rest of the day pass lazily on by(James.)
it's some etherial voice echoing into his dreams
some fairy, some entity, some grand presence surrounding in lights and waves and ephemeral glow
it's enough to startle him out of the semi-coherant slumber
right on into a state of continued semi-coherancy
at first he looks around, peeling his eyes open to take in the condo
that's when he recognizes the touch in the back of his mind
and there's a level of relief, thereCoach's Inn. Route 62. Halfway to East Orange. Bring the car.
repeated back to her
(quite possibly still slurred)
just to make doubly sure
by that time, he's crawling out of the deep leather cushions
in and out of the shower in five minutes
a change of her clothes shoved into a backpack
he doesn't quite have her devastating fashion sense, but it's warm and clean
he noticed her beloved bag of make-up left on the counter three days ago
who knows what she had or didn't have or went through or....
that's shoved in, too
just in caseanother five minutes and he's in the Z3
letting it warm up before pulling out of the lot
a pit stop by some burger joint to grab fast food
and then he's heading for the highway
this time twenty minutes rolls on by
the car quietly purring into the Inn lot
that's where he follows the feel of pack to find the room
rough knuckles softly beating on the door(rune)
Two minutes later - perhaps less - the door swings open. Rune offers James a weary half-smile, and steps back to let him get in. There's a shift at the sudden assault of cold from without, the energy suppressed and translated into movement, lifting her hand to her head and running her fingers through the strands, jet black and glossy again, still half-wet from a recent shower. There's a suggestion of roots, though, sundrenched blonde roots, surprisingly enough. She flickers a glance back at the room as he walks in, to be sure everything's enough in order, then offers him a lilting shrug. "C'mon in." Another glance. Down. Away. Back. Not shy (never shy), but subdued for all that. "...thanks for coming."The room is much as one would expect. Like all such motel rooms, its small and squat and ugly, worn around the edges. The wallpaper, some ugly, neutral pattern that might have been in vogue in the late 1970s peels away from the wall here and there, exposing the flaking layer of an old paint job, just as ugly, or drywall beneath. Two squat double beds. One with a rumpled comforter carelessly smoothed over the lumpy mattress, the second with bare white sheets, cheap and rough, tossed over the mattress. They're too white, too starchy white, to be anything but new. Maybe it's some attempt to chear the dreary place up. Maybe the old ones finally frayed so much that management had to cough up the ten bucks for a new set. Empty soda cans and cigarette butts fill the two wastebaskets to overflowing, and there's a pizza box moldering on the counter beside the sink, uncomfortable tuck up hard against a garment rack that hasn't been used in an age, since the hangers disappeared half-a-decade ago, never to be replaced. The television's on at a low murmur, some local channel, later afternoon talk shows in full swing. Rune crosses to the nightstand, where the remote is literally bolted down, and clicks it off.
The first sensory assault is cigarette smoke, polled and confined for several days in the squat little room. It hazes in the air, and coils like some faint rolling fog where illuminated by the two ugly sconces bolted to the wall above the beds. The second scent is deeper, more distant and subtle, less sharp. It coils beneath the acrid stench of too many cigarettes smoked in too small a space, but is still recognizeable for what it is: old blood, blood heavily spilled. And though the mattress has been turned over the sheets replaced, he can, perhaps, see the trail of it on the carpet from the door to one of the two beds if he bothers to look down.
She's wearing boxers, and a cheap white t-shirt that shows the lines of her black bra beneath. Flickering a glance at the bags in his hand, she manages a rueful smile, " - hope you brought me some underwear." There's not an ounce of make-up on her face, which makes her strangely vulnerable. The sharp, attractive lines of her features remain, but without smoky shadow around her eyes or red paint on her lips, without the sharp definition of black mascara to highlight the length of her otherwise blonde lashes, without which he has rarely seen her, she seems starched and drawn, drawn not in color, but in shadows and light.
(james)
even before he walks in
he can sense it
he can smell it
do you really think he doesn't know her that well?
something flashes in his eyes as she looks back down and away
to see that after not even a whispered touch in four days
question. worry. ache. fear
lower lip draws between his teeth
he doesn't say a word
not out loud, not between them
just nodding and quietly walking ineyes that plummet to the ground, so breifly torn away from her
they trace the faint trail of blood from the door to the clean bed
the sheets that are so white they blind in comparison to the others
some brilliant scar that will now remain blatant against the room's otherwise universal fade
the paper bag of food crackles and crumples in his grip
greasty bottom lowered towards the comforter hiding whatever may stain the other mattress
a sag and stumble of balance when the heavy backpack is settled next to it
both bags huddling together in this strange, strange (blood scented) place"Yeh." he's turned now, away from the bed and towards her closing the door "Brought that, too."
a part of him wants to demand what happened
why did she disappear without a word
why did she not even contact him in some way
to scream and yell and rage about how hard it was to not let it show
how difficult it was to shrug it off as just more business
how dare she let him hurt like that......not a word
not a single, solitary, word about it
instead, he just reaches
one long arm drawing out
fingers tickling at her bare wrist
crawling to wrap around her arm as they slide higher
past elbow, bicep, homing in on her shoulder
tickling the still damp tips of her inky hair
all the way up to softly cup her face
such a chaste (timid) affection
when he'd normally have tackled her the moment she opened the door(rune)
Her gaze follows him from door to bed, flickers over the heavy backpack and the greasy bag of fast food (sudden inhalation, the scent of grease heavy and blessed. she's healed. she's been healed, and no longer does the idea of food nauseate her from the sheer implausibility that her ragged, battered bodymight actually manage to digest it). She's still as she watches him, arms hanging uselessly by her side. The silence is awkward and fumbling, not first-date silence, but morning after silence, something fraught with the remnants of tension and everything left unsaid, by him (how dare you?) by her (i'm sorry).Then he touches her. Then he touches her, some slow, timid crawl of fingers up the bare length of her muscled arm, the unmarred skin now faintly glowing with the unnatural health of their kind despite the weary slant of her eyes, the awkward glance away.
And back. Always back. Back as his hand pauses on the curve of her slender shoulder, the cheap, thin cotton of the t-shirt, the bite of bra-strap beneath. His hand unfolds and opens, like a bird taking slow, careful flight, and rough fingers cup the soft skin covering her cheek and jaw, find the strong lines of muscle and bone beneath the skin. She sighs - some sudden dam bursting free of breath, some attempt to catch the expelled breath, throat closing hard in a quick, choked sound, and steps forward into his arms, drawn as if he had pulled her there.
Her forehead against the bridge of his nose, the spiderweb brush of lowering lashes against his cheeks, the shudder of something rippling through the taut muscles of her tense shoulders, the gift of her breath against his skin, impossibly, impenetrably warm.
(james)
suddenly, she's in his arms
they're closing around her like a giant damned flesh shield
(would he ever say he'd protect her from whatever it was?)
cup of her face leading into the circle of shoulders
the other drawing lazy slash diagonally down her back
how strange some smooth embracing movement
can feel like he's fumbling to gather as much of her as close as possible
tightening as the ripple works its way through her strong framehe's confused
he's curious
he's....... contentache of days washes away with each gifted breath
even if he's sure on inhale
she can smell the underlying guilt
he may be scrubbed clean
but his jacket still smells of tequila and smoke
and whatever else clung to his skin on the stumble home
smear of scents and oil and sweat because his shirt was left behind....but he doesn't think about that now
that will come when she asks
there are no comforting (condescending) words
there are no questions (demands) about the past
sometimes silence seems best
everything is spoken in the strength of his embrace
the weight of his head against hers
the slow breaths that are refilling depleted reserves(rune)
Her hands find their way beneath the shifting wings of his patchwork trench coat, smooth and whole and so terribly, terribly soft, the pads of her fingers. She's never done an honest day's work in the whole of her life - he must know that, he must be aware of that, if only from the softness of the pads of her fingers, the smooth curl of her cool palm against his flank. And around. And up. Up across his back over the ash-laced scars that mark him. Her fingers linger on the first furrow, splayed still raw - the raised nubs of flesh, the darkenedash burned into his skin - across the lean inverse curve of his lumbar spine, and linger there, then trace the furrowed flesh upwards, to another, and another, and another, some chaotic map of his past, his loss, his deaths, his strength.He cannot know it, but she loves him for his scars. She loves him for his scars (the lingering touch, blind, blinded, gentle as the swift flutter of a beeswing, thorough, as if they were some sort of braille'd map to past, present, or future. Her eyes are closed, and he can feel the soft brush of her pale lashes against his cheek, spiderdust, cool and feathery) and the strength of his faith, and everything that weighs him down, and everything above which he rises.
Time dilates. Each breath fills her lungs slowly, and is exhaled in half-time. He can, perhaps, feel the moment she catches the scent - sweat and oil, tequila and smoke - clinging to him like guilt. The tension that swirls once more into her shoulders, stiffens her arms, makes taut the long, sleek lines of paraspinal muscles as awareness coils through her sleek form. Her brow slides from the bridge of his nose to his cheek, and her mouth finds his flesh - just beneath the strong line of his jaw, the vulnerable skin of his throat - not even the illusory touch of teeth ( - throating him - ), just the warmth of breath, the quickening of tongue upon his pulse before she pulls away.
"We need to talk." Reluctantly, she breaks the embrace, pulling away from him, pulling him with her toward the bed, which offers the most comfortable seat in the room. There's a nest of pillows at the head, and an overflowing ashtray on the nightstand. There's a brief, reluctant glance - the flicker of dark eyes, framed by pale blonde lashes - upward, then away, followed by a strong, calming breath. "Some explanation." The brief quickening of her smile, some half-edged ghost-thing. "I think I owe you that much." ..and some pause, as she finds her seat and finds her cigarette and finds the words she knew she would say - the words she knew she needed to say - but which flee from her like so much mist on a sunlit morning. "I think you deserve that much."
(james)
how he just revels in this
dark eyes falling closed to feel the explorative touch against his back
the sensation then non-sensation then sensation again to cross scarred flesh
breath filling lungs to slowly, subtly, lift into her fingers
that soft, soft, soft skin against his ownhe's rough and rugged
his hands tell the story of his past
as much as the scars on his back and soul
the way callouses catch on the cheap, thin t-shirt
from both his fingers and palms
(uptown girl, and downtown boy)
he's scrapped and struggled and lived in the gutters his entire life
her condo the first roof he's had over his head for so many consecutive months
honest or dishonest (was he ever dishonest?) his life has been hard
everything he has is himself
and how completely and freely he offers it to her
there are times he just..... wonders
but soon enough it's always shoved away
don't question the dream, and you won't wake up from it, Jamey-boyhow strange..... this dedicated Hood..... enamoured with the spoiled rich Walker
he happily lives with nothing, she needs things he does not even comprehend the use of
yet still...
what he'd sacrifice to give her morehe doesn't care she's unpainted and imperfect
he doesn't care she isn't wearing her usual thesad of black and wicked, wicked red
even for the shadows and the exhausted wear
it's still so clear he adores her
in those simple returned touches
reassociating himself with that he missed so much it achedthroat contracts with thick swallow
feeling the slow tension weave into her muscles at the discovery
were he already not looking away and behind her
that's where his gaze would shift now
inwardly he grapples with things she does not yet know
so willing to tell her... though it may be things she does not want to hear
jaw stretches upwards
exposing his throat to her gentle touch
smile spreading just as warmed breath spills and floods across his pulsewhen she pulls away, he doesn't want to let go
(it's too soon, just a moment more....)
fingers reversing their intial crawl to slide down her arm
curiosity burns in deep umber eyes
but he only nods
while he expected nothing
there is an appreciation in him, to get something"Decker and I took care of getting the supplies for the trip."
softly, just to bring her back to speed
letting her know there's no press to return, tonight
the quilted coat drops from his shoulders to pool on the empty bed
some little mountain of familiary next to the pack and bag of food
from within a pocket comes his pack of cigarettes, the top opened and held in offer
half are his own Camels, the other half strippa pink, caribbean blue, and deep, deep veridian green
his weight sinks onto the mattress with hers
not beside her to look away, but facing to give her his full attention
one leg curling camoflaged angles beneath, the other resting boot on the floor(rune)
"I should have told you," she begins, deft fingers stealing a cigarette from the pack, faint smile wreathing itself across her features. Sharp, sharp and oh so light. Give her blue contacts and she would be the perfect WASP. Erik's cousin, Decker's sister - pale blonde roots and pale falling lashes and pale winter skin. It's hard to tell which is her true face, the one she presents to him now, or the one she presents to the world, or some strange, Picasso-portrait of the two, garbled together, unrepentently mixed. There's a brief gesture, up and away, as she lifts the cigarette to her mouth, as her mouth curls in a faintly ironic smile. "Days ago." Her gaze lifts from the too-bright sheets on the bed opposite, and at last finds his own. "...but it was the full moon, and I didn't want - "- what? She never finishes the sentence, and it hangs there, pregnant with possibility, as she lights her cigarette (blue as the eyes she should have, with that hair, with those lashes) and sucks in a long, staying drag.
"Decker and I fought." He can see the tug of her gaze, away. He can see - perhaps - the flicker of her irises, the subtle change of musculature, the sudden firming line of her mouth: resolute. "In war-form. He - " Some pause, a breath, a beat, as she fumbles for the words she wants to say. It doesn't matter, she knows, everything seems to come out wrong in the end.
"I wanted him to fucking - stop - " Her fingers tighten around the filter, crushing it. She has been without the hazed storm of her rage for days and days. She has not seen the moon. She has not sought the moon. She has stayed here, in this drab little room, and her mind - for the first time in more than a decade - has been unutterably her own. The rage was gone day one. The Xanax disappeared day two. Then, there were only daytime talkshows and worn-out room, the impossibly slow reknitting of rended flesh. The stark bite of pain, constant, and the slow drag of minutes into hours, hours into days. " - with his damned comments. I wanted him to shut the fuck up. It was the full moon." Self-mocking, the curled edge of her smile. Utterly self-mocking. "...and I suppose after so long, I'd forgotten how different Fenrir and Glass Walkers are.
"He trounced me. Thoroughly. And then wouldn't leave when I told him to leave, and then brought me here when I asked him not to take me home. I couldn't walk." There's a faint wave toward the rest of the hotel room, explanation. She knows, of course, that he can smell the blood. The scent is heavy beneath the scent of cigarettes, and still sits dark across her senses. "Livingston came and healed me the rest of the way, today. Earlier. We're fine, for now. The pack, I mean, for the trip, but I don't know about after. I don't know - "
It's something she cannot articulate: how little she understood the Modi, how little she understands now, how badly she misjudged him, how strange it is to find herself still Beta in his eyes after such a thorough defeat at his hands. Her eyes skim to the side, flicker across the ashtray long enough to find it again, and tap the fine cylinder of ash from the end of the cigarette into the overflowing mess.
"I should have told you, sooner. But I didn't want you to - " He will have to fill in the rest. Some things must be spoken, but some things cannot be said, not in so many words. Some words melt on the tongue as cotton candy, sugar in the rain. Her brow creases into a thoughtful frown. " - to challenge him. To think you needed to challenge him, but I still feel as if I've betrayed you, somehow, in keeping such a silence, for so long, in even considering my first instinct, which was just to run away."
At last, her gaze flickers away from him, to the shape of their reflections in the tarnished mirror on the opposite wall. He is there. She is there, they are figures, shadows in some shadow play, easier to comprehend when painted with such a broad brush. The corner of her mouth quirks upward, wry with sundered self-awareness. "I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say, but I've been here for four days, with only my own thoughts for company - " - her mind was closed to him. her mind was closed to them all. - " - and I decided I should say it, whatever it is."
(james)
she chooses blue
he chooses white
to each their own, natural addiction
right now there's no soft humor in watching him smoke one of hers
and she's without the harshness inherant in his
bic flares orange onto his features
and he just listens
and listens close
to her words, her expressions, her body language...... well shit
even if it's not the full moon
even if it's waning in the sky
there's still that underlying bristle
a defensiveness that comes from.... what... love?
a defensiveness that comes not from the beast.... but the man
a want to protect her simply on principle of what they never say
it's written in the slow coil of shoulders
it's written in the band of muscle that tenses along his jaw
it's swallowed away and exhaled in a lazy plume of smokethere are so many ways he could take this
why she fought him, instead of the Gnawer
why she doesn't want him to challenge
why she kept things from him
reasons that would wound pride and lash at his soul
reasons that would instill the deeper hurt or betrayal
reasons that would likely get him killed...can the man see through what the beast howls?
but that was four days ago
four... long... days
maybe he just accepts it for what it is
and reinserts himself into the present
there's a long (four day long) breath to aid in his digestion of her words
dark eyes falling away, studying the bloodstains in the carpet
(his lover's blood on the carpet)
half a cigarette killed in thought
straight white teeth raking over soft pink lip"Some fight with words.... others with claws and teeth. He fought for the right to continue with his little comments." brow lifts above a glance, to reassert or perhaps find his understanding "And he won."
okay.
digestion continues
his face, his eyes, a movie screen which plays the script of his thoughts
a word for words battled without them
two Tribes reconciling (creating?) their differences in their own way
perhaps unfair, perhaps wrongly done - but it's accepted
if simply for his own understanding of the Fenrir way
and how he understands, even if she does not, what exactly the battle changed
if anything at all.... okay.
there's a slow nod or three
dreadlocks reaching a few inches towards the floor
then pulled away again
only to repeat the process"Thank you.... for telling me." whatever it was, whatever it was worth, whatever it will become "And maybe I'm answering my own question, here, but the one thing I don't understand is why he never makes the comments directly to me."
he's heard them, or maybe seen the looks
and maybe he understands the reasonings of Rank
and maybe he understands the reasoning of Tribe
knowing he's Omega in so many ways
but that would make one think that it's the lower than would... taint? weaken? the higher....
there's another long pause
inwardly struggling with what he wants to say
and perhaps what he knows he should say
but he says it anyway, so very softly
for once with words, rather than the indulgence of their bodies"I missed you."
(rune)
"I missed you, too." Her smile curls slowly, like the smoke rising from the burning cigarette, coils itself across her lips as the fine stream of poisoned gray swirls up toward the ceiling to join the general miasma (too. many. cigarettes. and a half-smoked pack of Marlboro lights on the nightstand.) that floats along the ceiling like lifting fog. Each breath is poisoned. Their lungs will never blacken. They have another, more violent death in store.She stubs out her cigarette - her half-smoked cigarette - in the ashtray, and other cigarettes, devoured all the way to the filter, burned little remnants of filters, sifting ash, spill out over the scarred nightstand. She stubs out her cigarette, and then she offers him her hand, palm up. "He thinks I'm to blame. He thinks that I will grow weak, whatever he means by that. I'm not sure he knows that you've made me stronger. I'm not sure he could understand."
Hand out, palm up; long, lean fingers (how many have died beneath her hand? how many more?) just cupped, the chipped edges of her long nails flecked with flaking remnants of red enamel.
(james)
the first parts gets a little smile
just a little grin - that grin
the one that she only sees
they've all seen the full on smile when he's around children
but that grin?
the quirk at the edges of his lips
that no matter how small always finds its way into his eyes
the barest dimple of skin around his mouth, the slightest wrinkle around deep umber
has always been especially for herhis free hand reaches for her offering
rough skin against soft pads
dirt grained seeming so much filthier compared to remnant red - even as chipped as it is
callouses tracing inside length of lean fingers
wandering across her palm
then reversing the process until his hand falls beneath hers
only to rise again and allow fingers to twine
it's clear he understands the reasoning.... now
but as with the four long days, it's put behind him
behind them
choosing now, for what is likely the first and only time, to disregard pack"He'd never understand what you've done for me, either."
murmured
those dark eyes on hers
there's.... more... he wants to say
a half breath even drawn to begin to shape it
but they've never said it before
and he's unsure if she wants to hear it now
the hesitancy brilliant in dark, dark brown
the breath wasted, discarded
tossed away in slow sigh
(I'll tell you everything if you wished to hear it)(rune)
She knows that grin as well as she knows the shape of her own palm. She knows it as well as she knows the mask she lays upon her features, and perhaps better than she knows the flesh and blood and bone (and heart, somewhere, pumping strong. and soul, calcified, half-wild) beneath it all.( - raw, these edges, in a way that cannot be contained. bedraggled threads of wants and needs, thoughts and doubts, feelings and definitions and fleeting, sudden bursts of instinct that cannot - can never - be woven into some coherent whole. She is inexpressibly inarticulate. Her throat closes hard, tendons straining to swallow the strange, sudden rise of fear that is sharply, intrinsically entwined with love. She would like a tapestry. She would like a novel. She would like a video game, where the enemies are clearly marked, the goals so obviously stated, the stakes everything or nothing, but never this high. She would prefer obvious choices and clear consequences, the bright battlemind where time slows to a crawl and all one need do is act, and death is as good an outcome as any other - )
"I don't have any claim on you." Fingers flex, tendons strain, and she squeezes his hand, and then grasps it, harder, startled by the sudden rise of something, sharp and quickened, strangely shaped. "I shouldn't. I shouldn't even ask. I shouldn't. I can't. I've never - " felt like this before.
Her eyes flicker away again, up to the ceiling, the stained acoustic tiles she counted and counted again during the long, blank days and nights, when she was left alone with her own thoughts, with her own thoughts, and no clouding rage to speak of. The shape of her hesistation, the sudden glance away, the sharp look back, the inelegance of her words, the strange shifting curl of her mouth, and the faint frown that marks her brow, the tension that finds its way into her shoulders once more, lifting beneath the rough cotton t-shirt, lifting forward, and the taut, strong grip of her fingers around his, before it drops away.
"Tell me."
(james)
"I want you to."ask him?
claim him?
feel like this?
whatever it is, he lets it slideshe took the time to gather her thoughts, earlier
now it's his turn to wrangle his
distraction found in jumpstarting another smoke from the one he all but forgot about
(ran outta things to do with my hands)
pack tossed onto the table
a long stretch towards her to extinguish the butt
he doesn't draw back
one hand holding hers
the other elbow resting on his knee
smoking a quarter of the Camel in silence"When I....." puncuated by another drag, another exhale - no matter how much he wants to say these things, it's not easy for him, but for her he tries so hard "When I lost Jenna, I felt like I died inside. I didn't just kill her and the others. I felt like I had killed myself, too. It was more than the betrayal, it was more than their blood, it was more than any hurt I could ever even imagine. Everything vanished for me. And.."
eyes that had dropped to the floor lift again
brows lifting a bit as a nervous grin wanders
there might be an apology in deep brown
(I know you've never wanted to speak of this, and it's been fine with me)
there also might be something else, something deeper
something he's never fully allowed her to see
just because to do that, would mean to admit and realize
soul poured out not only in words, but in that look"... and when I'm around you, I feel like I'm actually alive again. There's a reason to stick around other than this blind faith in what I was born to do." what killed them "Maybe it's because there's never been a claim, whatever happened would happen for as long as it would. I'm so... happy... around you. I never expected it to be forever. It was only supposed to be casual sex for as long as you allowed me in your bed. I didn't care whom else you took there, and just..... adored.... the attention you gave me. But I think you know it's more than that, now."
there's another slow stretch of his body
reaching to flatten the almost finished Camel
the words he has to say now shouldn't be laced with its smoke
weight shifts on the bed, fully facing her
now he won't let himself look away
.... here we go."Last night I helped Tristan move in. Imogen was there, as well as another Garou named Diego. Imogen left and we were just.... wasted.... on tequila." there's a bit of a chuckle there, cause he knows she knows it doesn't take much "I think I killed over a quarter of the bottle myself." okay, way wasted "And.... some comments lead to other things.... I."
another pause
it's clear he's still wrestling with acceptance of what he did - on top of everything else
and maybe there's the slighest tremble within that strong grip"I got into bed with him and kissed him. And..... I think I would've done more. It's the first time I've even thought about someone else in all the time I've known you. But..... even though there's never been a claim, Rune, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I felt I couldn't do that to you, whatever it was. So I stopped and left."
(rune)
It's too much to absorb at once, but somehow she manages to keep her gaze firmly on his. There's something strange and vulnerable about such eye contact, outside the usual language of dominance and submission, instinct and pack in which even the most civilized urrah engage. Somewhere in the middle of the speech ( - 'round about the mention of Tristan - ), she slips her hand from his and goes diving for another cigarette. The last is stubbed out, sharply, with more force than necessary, half-smoked. The next is lit with his lighter, stolen from the quilted comforter, with its cheap nylon stitching and rough, coarse weave, and then replaced."Well - "
Silence comes then, a long silence broken only by the rhythm of her breathing and the hiss of the cigarette as tobacco and paper catch, hiss, burn, die to smoke that swirls up to the ceiling.
"Well, then." There's an echo in here, and some faint echo of her familiar smirk crawling across her lips. "Maybe it's my fault." The smirk slides into half a grin, something caught in between, something not quite classifiable. "I should've kicked you out of my bed afterwards." Her fingers brush his knee, then her hand flattens against the comforter, unnecessary leverage as she rises. She is still getting used to the feel of her body, whole again, to the smooth contraction of her abdominal muscles, to the effortless physicality of her strong form. There's something - still - even tentative, a hitch at the beginning of movement, just a little rock forward to test the waters before rising, and then she paces - forward, back - between the lumpy double beds, a trail she has worn, perhaps, clear through the carpet in the last several days.
Slender arms wrapped around her midsection, she pauses at the pivot point and turns half around. Her nails dig into her skin, and she flashes him a wry, self-aware little look. "Then it might have stayed casual. I'm not good at this, James." She finds his gaze again, but maintains the arms-length distance between them, because she needs the space to think, and she needs the space to breathe, and she needs the space to find the words that he deserves in return. "I'm not good at this at all. I've never - " - another pause, and she shakes her head to clear her mind of all the post-modern little tangles of ironic distance she is wont to weave as armor and wear as badge or shield. " - I've never done this before. I've never felt like this before. I never - what you felt for Jenna - I've never allowed myself to feel like that. I don't think I've wanted to feel like that. We all need our armor, don't we?"
There's a brief, dismissive shrug, encompassing everything. Armor, the war, the quicksilver death, the blood on their hands. The war. The war. The war. The fact that she is what she is, that she believes she must be - that, perhaps, she must be - harder, somehow, to survive. "I've never mated. I've never wanted to mate. That would be me having the child, that would be the mother, dead long before the child is grown. That would be - " some smirk, quicksilver, aware. " - me in fucking labor on the full moon, and me, out of commission for a hell of a long time, a warrior, breeding. And so - "
" - and so I'm giving you a fucking speech, one you probably already know. One you probably don't fucking need, because you already know it, if only to delay the inevitable. It's beyond casual. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but that doesn't mean I want to stop, and it's oh so very post-modern of me to dance all around the issue, but I - " she's smirking again, some bewildering, bewildered expression that sits strangely on her face, self-mocking rather than knowing. "I should say that I don't care whom you kiss, or whom you fuck, or whom you want to kiss, or what you do when I'm not around, because that would be sane and right. But I didn't kick you out of my bed, and I've slept in your arms, and I like it and you're not obligated to stay, or leave, or go, or whatever."
"I have no claim on you." Dark eyes fall away, to the floor, and her hands fall to her sides: useless. Fucking useless. Her mobile mouth stills, the strange parade of half-mocking self-awareness crawls to a halt, and he can see the tension wreathing her frame as she forces her eyes back up to meet his: equals. " - but I'm not going to share you."
(james)
she dives for the pack
and he lets her go
she stands to pace
and he lets her go
she begins her speech
... and still, he lets her go, he listens
he watches as she paces
studying her with those raw, vulnerable eyesand even though they've spent half the night pausing to gather their words
to make some sense out of the thoughts to communicate them
now? he doesn't pause, he doesn't stop, he doesn't even blink"I don't want to go."
weight shifting on the bed to face her: equals
weight lifting to stand, though not invading her space: equals
it's a slow crawling lengthen of muscle
through his thighs and back
all the way to the set of his shoulders
her tension wraps around her frame
and his is there.... but so much more subtle
it's as soft as the words he dares to say"I won't ask you to claim me. I won't ask you to be my mate. I won't ask you to bear children that neither of us may ever see grow up. I won't ask you to change. I won't ask you to sacrifice anything for me. I won't ask you to do anything to weaken you to Gaia, her War, or even the rest of our pack."
her arms hang useless at her sides
his raise - fingers raking through tangled dreads
one attempting to occupy itself in fall and flatten against his belly
the other attempting to find something to do in the air
his palm exposed in some gesture reaching to grasp what he wants to say
but instead the route changes
a moment of indecision
before he finally chances stepping into her space
as if to still the vibrating tension
both hands lift
those rough fingers sliding along her jaw
finding the silken soft flesh just beneath her ear
palm's crease aligning itself with bone to tilt her face towards his
he cannot grasp the words, so instead he chooses her
looking into the eyes devoid their kohl-lined armornow comes the pause
as he searches those mahogany depths
like scrying some divination from the most polished, expensive table
because he knows what's on his mind is so apparent
it's open and exposed and just there for her to see
as if it takes every ounce of him to express this
to make sure she hears - because once they leave this room? it may never be said again
and he will. not. lose this chance"And I realized last night..... I won't ask you to share me."
(rune)
"Well," she said that before. She says it again, now, dark eyes half-closing against (or perhaps to receive) his words. It's painful, to be this open, it's like this bleeding, fucking, wound that never quite heals. The sharpness of want, the diamond-edged fear of loss, the fucking vulnerability to which one exposes oneself. Love is murderous; it cuts like a knife. " - then."Each word falls like a stone, strangely made, fully formed, rounded and solid and warm as his hands cupping her face. More solid than the breaths that quicken her frame - lifting shoulders, expanding ribcage, flaring through her nostrils on the exhale, shuddering through her strong frame - the breaths that come to quick now, and leap in time to her quickening pulse, and for all that she's bloody well shaking as she stands there (so this is what fear feels like, so this is why it makes you weak) she's oddly, oddly still. Sharpened awareness bleeds through her senses - the ceiling, the stink of smoke in the room, the blood beneath it, heavy and opaque, some shadowed scent beneath the rest, his sweat, another's, tequila, fear - and she watches the slow strange motion of her arm, rising of its own volition, the slow, strange stroke of the smooth knuckles of her right hand along the line of his jaw.
"I won't ask you to share me, either."
(james)
she trembles in his gentle, guiding grasp
how he is so aware of her... of them
the way his heart pounds, deafening, in muscular chest
hammering against ribs as if to reach out for hers, itself
pulse raging warmth beneath his skin
and still his thoughts and emotions play in dark eyes
the warmth of what goes deeper than affection
the deep glow that is the love he will never say
(they didn't tonight, said everything but, so does it matter if they ever do?)
the fluctuating relief to just... know
the fear, way down, of what it would be like to lose her now
on the eve of this trip they're taking into the unknown
there's never been a doubt in his mind what he'd sacrifice to ensure her.... anything
and he knows it is not the place of their kind to live and love and die of old, comfortable age
one day there will be more blood spilt, and more losses mourned
he understands the War that is the lives, knowing that is all they will ever be
but those are tomorrows...he doesn't think about it now
what he thinks about... is now
that little grin finding its way to the surface again
the smallest expression that says more than any collection of words he can findhis hands drop from her face
navigating their way past her raised arm
fingers dragging to catch on thin cotton
over shoulders, down arms, grazing flank
curving around to circle her back
that's when he draws her close, breaching the final barrier of space between them
gathering the strong, healed (beatiful) form up against his own
feeling the swell and dive of curves and taught muscle
how clinging tee and black boxers mold against faded shirt and tattered BDUs
his face brushes against the inky strands of her hair
his profile finding the warmth at the side of her throat
lanky form folding the short height differential between them
of all the wordless pauses, of all the awkward silences
they're all replaced nowunformed breath against her neck saying everything
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 21, 2003.01.21.03. - tequila complications [tristan-diego-imogen-decker-dire][north jersey, cont'd from previous scene]
(james)
....shit
about three blocks away, the Tacoma rumbles to a stop
dark brow lifting to look at the box that was forgotten down in the passenger's legroom
there's a bit of a chuckle
indicator out
and the Gnawer's flipping a bitch
(no, not you ma'am.... just go wouldya?)soon enough he's back in the parking lot
the box of food lifted out and propped against a hip
lugged back towards the building's foyer
(HOW could they forget THAT??)
technically, he should have a key to get back in
or at least have to ring the bell to get the resident to let him in
but Tristan doesnt have the phone set up, he bets
so a big ring is pulled from one of the many pockets
a seemingly.... random... key chosen
and boots soon sound quiet in the hallwaythen knuckles rap against the door
box settled in place where the welcome mat would be
stepping to the side and leaning back against the wall beside the door
waiting(tristan)
"Alrighty then.." He grins and takes the bottle, looking it over with interest - hell, he's never seen one with an actual worm in it, before. He then just grins, peels the wax away from the neck, and crackes the seal. Three shots poured, one nudged over toward Imogen, the other given to Diego, and bottle set down as he lifts his own... a moment, two... he considers grabbing the salt and doing an official barlike shot - but well.. he has afeling imogen would laugh - and he's already proven he gets far more hungober then she does much to her amusement - so what the hell, shot lifted in toast, and slammed back...
and eyes. water.
and throat burns.
and it warms allllllllllll the way down........ and the poor lightweight pretty boy just makes a face and a coughed out "goddamn...." makes the stuff he was drinking look (and taste) like water...another blink at the rap on the door - seems he's going to be a popular stop.. a shrug, and he stands.. (wheeeee!) and moves to open the door.At first, no ones seen, a look down finds the box, and a look out finds James, "Miss me already?" as he laughs, hoisting up the box with a sheepish grin.. "Whoops - how could we forget this one? Common in - we just opened the good stuff..."
(imogen)
One has to wonder what she would have gotten more amusement from. Seeing the light-weight do it like a bar shot, or watching Tristan as the alcohol burns it's way down his throat. Eyes watering, the faint twitch of nerves. Goddamn, he says, and her head cants faintly, "Don't say he didn't warn you," she deadpans.A glance toward the door, and James returning. Another addition to the drinking party. The shot of tequila is shot back in one go, down the hatch. And yes, the alcohol burns, but she was expecting it, and the warmth that came with it. A half cough, a mixture of a smoker's cough with a simple clearing of the throat from the after effects of seriously expensive tequila, she puts the shot glass at her feet, leaving it there.
(diego)
and good stuff it is the comercial stuff likewater in comparison, this is the sort of stuff you only have one or 2 of before it nocks you for a six. yes its probably illegal they snuck it i through the umbra its the sort of thing that puts hair on your chest or so they would say. he takes his own shot no salt and lemon with this one nope although he does thump his chest as he lets out a wheeeze after throwing it back " my god that hit the spot" in no way wlling to move let alone stand up and walk he can feel it working its way to his stomach anyway. "hello again james" such nice ass watches it move all the way from the couch to the door. yummm(james)
that chuckle is soft and low, and wry"I know..... our Momma's would tan our hides."
shift of weight begins at his hips
pulling him off the wall slowly
a brow lifting as he looks back inside
nodding up at Imogen, Diego.... and.... no Dire?
well then
coat's shrugged off
and he's found a spot to occupy
tossing a new pack of Camels onto the table, too(tristan)
"That they would.. we'll keep it our little secret.."
andby the time he gets the box to the counter, there is no doubt that single shot is mingling quite well with the others arleady taken. He grins at James.. notes that look around, and brow lifts questioningly... Only one other person who's bailed -there must be a problem he's unaware of. but! perishables are put in the small fridge, and then he's making his way back to the couch. James on one end, Diego on the other? our pretty boy.. right smack dab in between with something of a sit that's more of a fall really... "hooolyshit. THAT's some good tequilia." Stomach crunches and he's refilling the shot glasses - except imogens, which is still at her feet - though he does offer with a lift of a brow... That means one for Diego, one for James, and..... the bottle for Tristan.(imogen)
She shakes her head slightly, pale fingers digging through her hair once more, "I've gotta drive 'ome at some point," she says as an explanation. James needs to drive home too, but then again, he could probably get over a buzz in three seconds, if he put his mind to it.And that failing, she can always drag him, stoned-ass drunk to her car and drive him herself. The kinfolk is familiar enough with James's inability to hold any liquor of any kind.
(diego)
theres a look of concentration on his face as if the handling of the next shot is difficult, eyes slide from the delicious one to james a slight smile playing on his lips. and then over to imogen. "thats a pitty me i plan on getting well and truly buzzed" wonders if i can crawl up the stairs(james)
he doesn't say a damn word
when Tristan flops onto the couch
he doesn't particularly move
and when the shot glass is handed to him
a brow lifts
looking at the thick liquid inside"You do know if I drink anymore I'm giving the keys to Imogen."
he's a lightweight, yes
he's a conscientious driver, yes
he's a Garou, but he's not indestructible
a few shots of that, and he's probably not going to be able to make it across the room(diego)
that look it returns to james eyes searching his face as he looks at him, the mind that reaches out is buzzed is it a voice whispering in his ear? some who have never felt it before may think so in a way he hopes so ~sooo is the boi yours?~(tristan)
And tristan? Just grins and reaches out to nudge the shot a little closer to James.. "So give her the keys already - you've got to taste that... it's daaaaaamn good. and we got enough blankets and pillows and shit to make up beds on the floor.. for everyone."
Yes, smiled all the way around - Imogen included though decker would surely kick his ass for that. James won't be imposing.. Diego certainly won't be imposing.. "'sides - who wants to spend the first night in a new place all alone?"(imogen)
A bemused one sided twitch as she pulls herself to her feet, considerably more in possession of her falculties, but still, damn that was strong stuff. She stops a foot or so before the dreadlocked Bone Gnawer, holding out her hand, palm up, fingers relaxed for the keys."There's something fundementally wrong with me being designated driver," she notes, an eyebrow lifting slightly as the woman, who is only a few inches beyond five feet waits for James to either relinquish his keys, or hold back on the drink.
A sideways glance at Tristan at his offer, and she included. "I've got to work in the morning," she answers simply, one of those patented answers that does not come with a smile or commentary. Cool. Inexpression. And besides. Decker would kick his ass.
(james)
there's a slide of his gaze to his right
looking past his kin, and to the other
.... thaaaaat explains it
Not in the way you've been looking at him
soft grin working over his lips"Can't argue that...."
the keys to, well, Decker's Tacoma dug out
tossed towards the firey haired Kin
whom he knows is sure to be amused
cause she's seen him drink
and has outdrank him
... more than once
and he exchanges the shot glass to steal the bottle from Tristan
no fair that he's been left behind - he's gotta catch up
a rogue wink tossed before slugging back a goooood mouthfuland oh. my. god. that. burns
(diego)
a blank look as heat creeps through him a blush threatenning to stain his skin. that shot in hand goes down so quickly anything to distract himself. a few more of these and he will be crawling up the stairs. wonders if he could convince body corprate to put in an elevator."come guys its not that bad" almost breathless but then again hes been drinking this stuff for a while now"(imogen)
Her left hand casts out, catching the keys mid-air, shoving them into her pocket to join her own keys. And oh yes, she's amused, in an abstracted sort of way. It's not a grin or a smile, but a flash of dark eyes, a faint twitch of her lips. The subtly of expression.A slow turn, and she strides back to her chosen chair, that sturdy box, and sits once more, careful of the shot glass by her feet.
(tristan)
He of course, just laughs as Imogen demands the keys, nodding. "That's more like it. And yes - argue with me more and I'll let imogen hitcha with snow again" idle threat, muttered "HEY!" as bottle is taken, though he doesn't fight it much... he waits a moment, watching that gooooood mouthful before chuckling, clinking glasses with Diego and tossing his own shot back...
holy. shit.
eyes water again and breath held a minute or four before he's exhaling with a whooooooosh and cough.. "god. damn."
shot glass hits thight- with hand still attached of course, and he relaxes back into the couch again, foot proping up on the coffee table.. (on the second try..)
He laughs at Diego's comment and shakes his head.. "So says the boy who probably drinks this shit for breakfast."(james)
that's two down
one to go
but then that's making Imogen the third to blush tonight
and... he has a feeling he will do that before she ever would or could or... yea.
a brow lifts in return of that subtle expression
he may just settle for that first smile (!)
but dammit he knows
it's possible
he'll be able to do that again
someday.he... might have recovered from that first huge swallow
(oh. my. god.)
but in any event, he leans over to refill"Should I mention I rarely drink hard liquor?"
brow lifted at Diego's comment
looking at the bottle a little warily
but what the hell
lifted in toast
and down the hatch(diego)
"noooo neeever breakfast one should wait until noooon at least" his accent is getting stronger with every shot although he holds the shot glass out for another one. they should give the boi the worm the boi needs to have the worm looking at kames for a second "then your screwed"(imogen)
"James, if you go blind because of alcohol, understand that I'm not taking your ass home to explain things to anyone." Said drily as she leans down, picking up the shot glass, and running it between her fingers, before leaning forward and placing it on the coffee table, a good distance from Tristan's legs. "I'll just leave you here, or something."(tristan)
He tries to keep the laughter back, but can't.. it escapes until he covers his mouth with his hand and just shakes his head. "I'm beginning to think Imogen is a bad influence on us James... I've drank more tequilia this week with her then I have in my entire life.. And James can stay here....didn't I alrady say that?"
brows furrow a little bit, trying to remeber, even has he refills everyone (cept Imogen of course) and follows james in that down the hatch and how many of these do they need to do until they get to the worm and do people really eat it? and who will do so... all idly mused as he coughs again.... before he just siinks lower into the(his!) couch..(james)
a brow lifts
sliiiiiiding his gaze back over to Diego
trying to, it's through a half squint"Not if she leaves me here."
any other part of the quip not quite said
he's not that drunk yet
(but booooy is he catching up)
it's a little slurred... already
gesturing with the bottle towards Imogen
sort've generally
and as she gives up her glass
he stretches to lean forward and pull it back over
might as well make the most use of it if she's not
Tristan filling up yet another round
taking it a bit slower now
well.... not really
cause he downs that too
laughing low and warm"Rune's just as bad.... I didn't drink or smoke at all before falling in with this crowd."
(diego)
"whosssh rune?"he puts his own feet up upon the coffeee table toes wiggling in those ankle socks as he looks at them grining its amazing what people will find amusing when thier wasted. sinking lower body slumping in the couch ever so slightly. ~hes cute~ was that out loud or was that in his head and even worse was that in anyone elses head.(imogen)
"Shoulda told you no when you asked to bum a smoke," muttered as she reaches over to pick up the cigarette package that James had left on the coffee table, an eyebrow cocking at him in inquiry, hand pausing inches from the package."S'Frigging peer pressure, s'what it was," and if James grants his permission for her to bum a smoke, the eyes flicker toward Tristan, "New home, you gonna smoke in 'ere, or am I goin' outside?"
(tristan)
And james' comment? that gets... all. out. laughter. (yeaaaaaah, where's his mind at...) not if he stays here indeed. Grin is just somewaht.. lingering.. along his lips as he gestures.. "Rune is.." well. pack, but he after a few moments and gestures he settles with "hot. I mean fam'ly. Ya." decisive nod there... kinda.
He looks up at Imogen, lets that question float through his head.. (that. is. potent. stuff.) and then nods.. "Smoke away... even gotta ashtray in that box you're sittin on I think.. too cold t'go outside.."
(james)
there's that laughter again
low and thick and warm
veeerry warmed"And if you did I wouldn't be able to bum one to you now, would I?"
brow lifted in some semblance of mimicry
then all out bursting into laughter at something
obviously it wasn't something said out loud
must have been the totem phone, or something
yeh.... something
he's just too amused
though attempts to contain himself
(it's not working)
gesturing for Imogen to toss him a smoke, too
now pulling off that amusement at Tristan's stumble over words"Yeh, she's both."
careful what you say there, Jamey-boy
(imogen)
"Well," murmered around the filter as she lights up, using her own bronze lighter if necessary, though she'll take whatever's handy, "There's that."Cigarette package is slide back toward James, skimming across the wood of the table, and she gets off the box she'd been sitting on, and opening the flaps, she begins rummaging for an ashtray.
This found, she closes the box again, and this time sits on the floor before the table, setting the ashtray in the middle of the coffee table, so as to make it a little easier for the somewhat impaired James to ash his fag.
(diego)
he blinks a couple of times trying to clear his mind should he have another one just one more the worm the boi has to eat the worm maybe tomorrow night they could finnish it off then. if tomorrow ever comes. james laughter seems to confirm something for him and he trys to sink into the background that blush that threatened before well it is full out now as it creeps quickly up his face flushing his skin till it is a rosy pink beneath that mocha tone. yet he manages to stutter no not slurrr stutter "i... i... i... " just dies wants to crawl over the back of the couch. actually does crawl over the back of the couch face pops up over the back between james and tristan glares at james this is all your fault as far as hes concearned although hes not quite sure how. "sooooo isssss dire family too? " what he was really asking is rune of dires family or wanted to ask anyway(tristan)
He...... looks at James as he bursts out laughing, and then at Diego's blush and and crawl over the back of the couch and glare at james and holyshit did he hear what he thought he mighta somewhere in some fog and can we put 4 and 4 together and get 2? Sure we can.. there's a lot of tequilia that's been downed after all. and the grin flashed to Diego is one of (thanks man. not half bad yourself) variety, and completely unrepentant to James. And the pretty boy? takes advantage of the suddenly vacant end of the couch and just sorta leaaaaaaaaaaaans over to stretch out a bit more, feet moving from coffee table to couch (and no, he didn't kick James there a bit at all...) braced against the arm comfortablly. But he doesn't say anything (cuz if he did? it might be wrong.. James isn't the only one watching what he's saying.) about Dire, let's James handle it and reaches over for that pack and lights a smoke, offering it to Diego if he wants it.. he'll grab another if he does...(james)
that grin flashed at Imogen is damn well rogue
haHA.... oh quippy one
and while he really knows better than to do this
he takes another shot
feel. that. buuuuuurnwell, not really, at this point
pausing to study the glass
watching the reflection of the remnant clinging liquid
something glittering deep in umber eyes
that smile hardening, a touch"No."
flat enough to seem to answer everything
there's a pulse and roll of latent Rage
but it's quickly enough soothed again
back into some murky flux of volatile water
a stilling pool that could explode at any minute
but we won't think about that
even if it just made his opinion of the Get more than abundantly clearthere's a slow craaawl of body to lean forward again
plucking himself out of the quagmire that is the couch
(since when did couches turn into Alaskan mud?)
aiming not once, not twice, but three times for the two ashtrays Imogen set onto the tablethe look at Diego is apologetic
sorta, the tease is there, too
course he isn't arguing it, either
looking to Tristan with a short growl for the not-kick
oh so ferociously bared teeth and all(decker)
That's...twice in a week he's been relegated back to the sneaker express. Good reason and all both times, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. The aggravation of public transit (screaming babies. crazy bums. irritable drives. stop and go, stop and go) precludes it as a possibility this close to the full, and walking in this weather - how many degrees below freezing? - is just as unthinkable.Trouble is, they were supposed to have been back with the fucking truck about two hours ago. Nothing good is left on the tube. Nothing good's left in the fridge. Counterstrike gets boring after the fiftieth red screen of doom, and
still.
no.
truck.Door opens, door shuts. One impatient Modi turned out on the icy balcony, rubbing his hands together for warmth, narrowed eyes scanning the parking lot as though the Tacoma might spontaneously appear.
(diego)
he leans back from the couch suddenly at the venomous rage that suddenly washes over him his instincive reaction to go fetal even as his own ebbs to life. (hey kin arnt the only ones who have to deal with those bigger scarier and stronger than he) instead he just flinches pulling away in that graceful crawl that all the predators seem to possess even if this one does have its tail between its legs. moving to the other end of the couch the end where james is not down at tristans feet.finally it is banked that does not make him relax not straight away but relax he does probably the tequilla
(dire)
*He sits on a bench looking up into the sky. Pondering the nature of existance and interpersonal relationships.
Huddled in his oversized leather jacket he shakes his head to flip his blond hair from his eyes. Watches as the moon travels behind a taller building across the way. After observing the snowball fight eariler, being asked in and then leaving he was just hanging out in town. His car was at Danni's and he hadn't meandered back that way yet.Born of a MUCH colder clime he just sits here in the New England cold as if it were a spring afternoon.*
(imogen)
It won't be long until this gets a little boring, and she'll either concede to getting at the very least a little buzzed, or will leave.However, at the very least for the moment there is still some latent amusement in the three of them simaltaneously laughing over what appeared to be nothing, and Diego blushing a bright crimson. Smoke spills from her lips as she exhales.
James had answered, however minimally on Dire. The kinfolk's eyebrow lifts faintly, before settling again. One elbow rests lightly on the coffee table as she inhales once more on the cigarette, the ember flickering to life as she forces poison into her lungs and then exhales again. After a moment, she leans over, plucking the tequila from the hands of whomever had it, gauging the amount of liquor in it's the clear bottle.
(tristan)
That minimal answer on dire explains much.. though the growl at the not kick and snarled bare teeth simply gets laughter again. Diego doesn't take the smoke, and after a couple minutes he realizes that, and inhales.. exhales..slow grayish plume rising from his lips..
Imogen lifts the bottle, and Tris makes a show (not difficult as things are a little bit (lotta bit) fuzzy around the edges..) of trying to see waht she does... grinning unrepentantly.. "Not gonna cut'sss off yet, are ya, Im'gen?"(decker)
That's Dire. This is Decker. Dire's from fuckin Canada (what sort of demented idiot would live there, anyway?); Decker? Is from Alabama.Big. Fuckin. Difference.
Thus, the Modi sucks a shivering breath in between his teeth while he gropes for his knit cap, jamming it down over the tips of his ears. He takes the stairs at a trot, two at a time. One of these days he'll fall on his ass. Not today, though. Skecher ripoffs hit the pavement and he heads for Dire, rage washing a sonicboom cone ahead of him, tapering off behind. A nod up, a brusque question - "Seen my fuckin' truck?"
(deigo)
each word spoken deliberatly no i am not drunk slowly and with a deloicate care to make sure they dont rag or slurrrr "its ok i have more upstairs if she does wont take long to get it"(james)
oh yes
fear him
the big, scarey, Abonimable Snow Gnawer
he will riseth from the great banks of albino brain chiggers and smite thee with packed balls of apocalyptic doom
attempting a glare at Tristan's laughter at his ferociousness
maybe he'll just bite his leg or somethingmostly it ends up in another of his easy grins
pointedly ignoring Diego's reaction to that little flare of Rage
(guilt. guilt. guilt.)"If sshhhe does..... you'll have to get it."
gestured absently with the smoke
a brow lifting in question at Imogen's brow
(damned browful circus in here)
wondering if she is going to cut them off
or if it was something else(dire)
* A slow blink and he turns his head to behild Deckers approach. His tranquil moment shattered by that rage wave pressing his way.
For somereason it hits the young Skald wrong tonight and as his peaceful moment of meditation is broken his own rage ripples out in counter to deckers.
SLAM
The two fronts meet each other and you'd almost feel the crackel of supernatural energies playing off the other. The dull smell of ozone rises seemingly of it's own volition.Then the Skald stands. Movements liquid and graceful, as if the joints on his body were overly oiled. He's to his feet as Decker closes the last feet feet. THe rage fields over laping. Not canceling out but strengthening the other. Adding exponentially untill that overload is almost palliable.
Shoulders rotated. The gymnistic body even stiffens after 3 hours sitting in the cold. The air sniffed as Deckers inquary was levied. Eyes the color of glacier heart ice flicker around and up to Decker. Just shy of challenge. DIre knows his place. There was no need to Challege Decker. Been there. Done that. Had the marks to prove it. He nods, the tattoo flashing on pale skin. Melodic voice issuing out.* Yeah.(decker)
"Yeah?" You'd think the news would make him happier. If anything, it seems to make him angrier, a scowl furrowing his brow, narrowing his hard grey eyes as the air between all but crackles with invisible electricity. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hands tightly balled in the large pockets of his large coat. Chin up, he manages to look down his nose at everything, everyone - even Dire, two or three inches taller as he was. "Well, where the fuck is it?"Here comes the partycrasher.
(dire)
*The young skald tilts his head. hand escaping pocket to come up. Heavy sap glove on tonight. Powered lead sewn into the padded knuckels. He wipes his nose. Frowns and wipes the fingertips on his jeans. He turns and nods and starts walking. Directions in the city he wasn't too good at but he'd walked there he could walk back. Long legs stride. His stance tall and proud. He was Fenrir after all. One of the greater tribes. His blood even doubled as it was ran with a purpose and dedicaton of mellinia. His melodic voice comes out a bit more heavily accented than normal. Teeth gritted as his own rage and Deckers just expound on the others. Not AT the others but off the others.* Tristans.
* Evidently he was heading that way to show his better. If he follows that is*(tristan)
Guilt. guilt. guilt.
That? brings another bout of laughter as he looks between them and peers over the couch at Diego and arches a brow.. "don'thin' he'd make it.. so much for drinkin this all the time, eh?" Teased with that all too boyishly goodnatured grin.... that trails to a "shit! as he knocks the cherry off his fogotten smoke onto his belly - semi-cordinated slap and rub to get it out and off, before he reaaaches.... and finds the ashtray (third. try.) with cigarette to stamp it out...
(imogen)
"No," she says a smirk sliding across her lips as she holds out the bottle toward the couch of tequila drinkers. "Though I'm fucking appalled. You all still have a quarter of the bottle left." (( sorry so short))(decker)
His better...or so the rank proclaims, right?
(Whatever.)Tribemates, then. They're Fenrir, after all. Rage ricochets back and forth, a resonance wave building with each echo. Dire leads the way; Decker trails behind, fists in pockets, cap pulled down low to the grim line of his eyebrows, his lowslung slow swagger keeping pace.
A grunt as the location is named. It's very nearly growled insofar as human vocal cords can growl - "Boy been spendin' a fuckin lotta time 'round her lately..."
(james)
a brow lifts
yeh, lifts even higher and it's gonna crawl right. off. his. head.
half distracted by Tristan's sudden spazz
growling again at the not-kick that came from -that- too"That a challenge, Imogen?"
(diego)
he crawls up onto the couch he doesnt care if the other two are taking up the entire space well he might worry about james. it is that blend of respect and weariness. like the puppy thats been kicked too many times but still wants the hug the pat the knowledge that its welcome. lifting his legs he slides into place before lowing them again so close to james so close to tristan soo close to both of them.(dire)
*He grunts and nods with out even looking over. His stride eating up the pavement as they go. HIS voice answering back in total non secquator* I was having a beautiful conversation with one of our mutual ansestors Rohl. Had to go back over 345 generations to find one but... * a grunt and srug* Vikllum. Feasts Fast.... You heard the name before? * he grunts and shakes his head* They watch us still you know. * The Skald pauses to boot a goblin across the street. Not that Decker would see. Then more walking*Yeah.... and he checks out her ass too. * he snorts*
(tristan)
He... just... looks at Imogen... and yup - mimics James' search for the ever elusive brow crawling away prize, and then just reaches out to grab the bottle - and almost falls off the couch as Deigo picks -that- minute to slither back onto the couch between him and James... which involves sliding under Tristans legs and that? just gets a boyish grin.. once he rights himself wiht a hand on the coffee table and a puuuuuuuuush and the bottle is actually swiped, a grin for James, bottle tilted, biiiiiiiiig swallow, and he passes the bottle to Diego.. "Can't let her be disappointed, now......."(annalia chastain)
North Jersey was a long way from Newark. Then again, anywhere was a long way from Newark. She doesn't quite remember how she got to this side of town.. Everything seemed a blur to her. Of course, that was becoming a common thing nowadays. She buckles down into the long, thick, black wool trenchcoat, trying to conserve body heat against the blistering cold. A small wind, beating down upon her back, to tease long, black lanky links of hair away from the nape of her neck. It only sent chills down her spine.The thick-layered soles of her combat boots, kept a steady rhythm across the frozen pavement. Her skin prickled, as the tiny hairs rose up her skin, cold, as she was pale against the black wool. Violet-hued eyes lazily drift up from beneath dark lashes, casting a glance around at the street.
(diego)
"most definatly not" and prehaps if he gets so drunk he cant seee he will stop reacting so badly to james. large mouthfuls of the tequila slide down his throat one thne another a third swallow. before he finally hands the bottle on to james(imogen)
She simply stares at James. Almost expressionless. Only the most astute (and lord knows NOBODY astute now, after three quarters a bottle of tequila) would notice the amusement. She had opened her mouth to say something, either a denial or an actual challenge, before Tristan swipes the bottle from James (and nearly falls over himself and Diego)."Go right ahead."
(james)
he makes room for Diego
well, as much room as possible
and as much as his body will respond to the command to move over
which isn't much
pre-flight preparation and actual take off are two different things
so... they're nice and cozy
damned pile of puppies on the couchit's a casual hand that reaches for the bottle
still watching Imogen
(he's so going to pay for this)
because even if he has completely removed himself from astuteness
(and common sense)
he knows the firey woman well enough
and knows she's damned amused
(deep down, where nobody can see)
and tips the bottle back
swallowing
and swallowing
and keeps swallowing
(ho. lee. fuck.)there's a shot left in the bottom with the worm
and that's handed blindly back to Tristan
at least where he remembers the Kin being
he can't see right now
nor can he smell
or even taste anything
coughing hard(decker)
Mutual ancestors? He's related to the psychopath Skald? Decker's not sure how to take this. Decker doesn't give a shit right now, either. "Ain't never heard of 'im."Decker doesn't see the goblin, but he sees Dire pantomime booting...something. A snort blasts steam into the frigid air. "Ain't you takin' care o' Carmen no more?"
The wind beating down Annalia's back is the wind blowing in the face of the two Fenrir. Narrow-eyed against it, Decker's glance pauses on her a moment in its steady radar-sweep, side to side, instinctive, alert. "Damsel waitin' fer you to rescue," a caustic mutter to Dire, smirking -
- and then not smirking anymore. At all. A hard stare shot at Dire - "The fuck?" Garou nosing around her condo. Garou giving her talens. Kinfolk staring at her ass. Jesus fuckin Christ, he should've picked a dullwitted, personalityless babymaking matron to get all complicated with.
(dire)
*he snorts and nods* Yes. She's somewhere warm with somone warm. I take care of her fine. I just get restless after sex so I went out walking. * He jerks his head down the street they are passing to the Jetta parked infront of an appartment building* She likes Danni. I'm kinda fond of her my self.
*He tilts his head. Scraching his ear with his sholder instead of wasting energy to pull a hand allthe way up ther. Nods to Deckers words * 'll be waiting a while I imagine.
*A few more steps and Dire nods and srugs* Not that I know of. Might be.(imogen)
James is lucky Tristan stole the bottle. Imogen had been about to bet him ten quid that he couldn't swallow the entire quarter by himself.Worm included.
"That's going to hurt in the morning." A sideways glance at Tristan, a mobile eyebrow raking upward, "I should have boughtcha a bigger bottle of Advil."
(tristan)
He. just. stares. as James keeps swallowing.. (ho.ly.shit.) and tries, really hard not to laugh as the coughing starts. DOens't work much as he reaches and takes the bottle before Deigo gets smacked in the head with it and just... stares at the last shot and the worm and stage whispers to Diego.. "whatdoidowithTHAT?" jusssssst to make sure and all - he's heard stories, but still... never know what someone will tell you when you're jurgement is impaired and tonight? it's been completely obliverated. com. plete. ly.((adds... sorry mei! *L*))
and he just flat out looses. it. at Imogen's comment. People think she doesn't have a sense of humor? the girl is a riot.. specially now in his current. ahem. state. "We'll make do.." all he can stutter.
(decker)
Restless after sex. That earns Dire another glance, not so much furious as ...baffled. "Uh," is his comment on that matter.A single, snapped Ha! for the second comment, and a perplexed frown for the last. Whatever. Not like Dire ever makes sense for long. He keeps his mouth shut, flexes his shoulders back under his coat, and relaxes again.
Glance sideways at Dire. "How much further?"
(dire)
*He walks on a few steps. Sniffs the air and then he nods* Right there. *It's about mile off. The glacier blue eyes are sharp. Even in homid. The truck picked out as they approach at their stride. About 5 minutes walk. "Were passin' round that foul brown stuff we drank at Eliza's that one night. WHen you stole her bottle and she was feelin' your leg up under the table and I was acting like I didn't know. They were drinking that. Tastes like ass but I had some. Didn't want to offend the "host" and all that happy horse hit.(diego)
what do with what? eyes stare at the bottle stare at the worm stare at the last of the liquid. "well you swallow it down of course" yup thats what you do with the worm it is the worm where talking about now. "you have to take it(annalia)
Oh yea, damsel in distress was stamped all over her forehead alright. She was too dazed to even realized, the exact location of where she was going. Two instincts were running through her brain. Motion and Warmth. Motion usually generated body heat, so by moving she was managing to keep warm. Somewhat. At least, she wasn't lying in an alley somewhere, frozen to the brick wall, like the poor schmuck, she'd seen the other night. Ah, well, survival of the fitest. He didn't need his wallet on him anyway. Words drift on the wind, faintly pricking at her ears, it was better to listen to that than the chattering of her own teeth. A pierced brow arches upward, flicking a glance over to two guys chewing the fat out in this weather. Their words, never quite made out, their mouths, moved to quickly for her to really want to read, or at least concentrate on reading.She manages to free a hand from beneath one arm, flexing the gloved fingers to circulate blood through the veins. It curls into a small fist, lifted up to cover her mouth, coughing harshly into it. A sour taste filled her mouth, along with flem. She just turns her head, spitting it out a good distance away from her. The spittle, frozen as it hits the ground. It was just that damn cold.
(dire)
*He grins a bit and nods with his head. The tattoo over his left brow indicating direction when he sees Annalia's piercing. Just a grin and he looks to Decker. To see if the Modi remembered that other night with a lady in black with piercings*
(james)
breath, Jamey-boy, breath
ignore the burning sensation of the alcohol fermenting your lungs
just suuuuuuck in that oxygen
or even the Camel smoke
something, anything, just keep breathingoh. he is so done
not even gonna stand
just gonna melt into the couch
heavy lidded gaze watching the contemplation of what to do about the worm full of amusement(imogen)
She'd been sitting smoking her cigarette rather religiously, and now as Tristan bursts out into a fit of giggles, she simply stares at him, deadpan, both eyebrows lifted."You swallow the worm too, Tristan," she clarifies at the end of Diego's wandering explanation, and at the tail end of Tristan's laughter.
(decker)
Ain't so bad once you get used to it. That's what he'd say to Dire, if he was feeling talkative.Which...he's not.
Which he's damn well never.Five minutes off? Let's cut that to three. He picks up his pace a notch. The pointing of Dire's brow draws the attention of the other, and now there's two angry (let's stress that: angry. ragefilled, no matter how goodnatured Dire might seem.) guys staring at Annalia.
Lucky for her, the second looks away soon enough. Girl with piercings looking like she shot up with too much H. So what? Two minutes. Move along.
(diego)
"wheres that other bottle" he trys to turn his body only his neck rolls one side to the other staring at james ~HELLO~ then the other ~oh look its the cute one, shhhhh they might hear you, noo it doesnt matter your not speaking outloud, but your thinking outloud oh crap, sooo cute ~ "i need more tequilla"(tristan)
Swallow. the. worm.
He just looks at Diego with a silly little grin and something completely unreadable (ok. maybe. not.) by the other boy before gaze kinda sliiiiiiides back over to Imogen... and her complete deadpan.
Dare he trust them? Dare he not?
"swallow. Well - done worse..." grinned in that wicked way that means he's done BETTER (bigger) too, and bottle tips up, last swallow is taken and worm? swalloed in one big gulp before it's his turn to cough - though not quite as hard as James did.. fist striking own chest a couple times as it feels the worm is gonna get stuck but don't and he just inhaallllllllees before a littel cough and shake of his head. "ho. ly. shit." wonder how fast that worm is gonna hit and he needs MORE? though yeah.. there's a lopsided 'i heard that' grin before his head turns in search of the other bottle.. arm floaaating falling over to point in some vague direction that's supposed to mean the counter.. "soverthere..."(dire)
*He increaces his pace, as much out of instinct than anything else. WHne one of yur kind did, you did too or you were left behind. To be left behind was to die.
So Dires pace speed up with Deckers. He's not in his normal rather mellow mood tonight. He's a bit crunchy at the entire evening the more he thinks about it and the more he looks around he's discovering that the goblins are taking on a bluish tint. Cammoflague no doupt. Sorry ttle shits.*(james)
the look
on Tristan's
facepriceless
that just gets him laughing again
not sure if he's melting or floating above the couch
but it's enough for him to not really pick up on that niggling feeling of pack beginning between his shoulderblades(annalia)
Lucky for her, she wasn't to close to them. Bad for her, that she apparently aroused their attention, to a small degree. Dark lashes lift up, widening slowly, to blink owlishly, over violet-hued eyes. She stares right back at them, one glance at the faces, then down to their chests. Not making direct eye contact. Her steps slowed, her body felt weighted now, something crawled up her spine and it wasn't the cold weather. She felt her skin prickle from the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck, to her shoulders, and down her arms. She breathes in the cold air into ther lungs, wincing at the stinging ache in her chest, which produces another short cough. Dire raised an eyebrow at her, she raised both of them at him, and that odd tattoo on his face.(dire)
*he gets TWO eyebrows and she did have pretty eyes. He tilts his head at the woman and takes in a steady breath though his nose. Never new these days. He found carmen waddeling around on the street. So he scents her. Nothing clear or retarded looking. Just a long inhale though his nose as he and decker trot on down the way(imogen)
She stares at the three immobile on the couch, and just... watches.One of them will have to get up and get the second bottle of Tequila. And by god, it won't be her.
(decker)
Rage in motion: like a nighttrain blasting past, the two Fenrir go by. One's curiosity is piqued. The other is deadset on his destination, and his pace propels the other along. You move or you get left behind. You get left behind and you die.He can see his truck clearly now, a little after Dire's sharper eyes. He can feel, also, the sensation of pack. James. That much was expected.
Gated community. Damn nice place for the violin-toting street musician. Decker goes right up to the fancy-ass gate and looks in, wolf behind bars, wolf at the door. One hand comes up to grip a bar, then trails over them as he stalks left, eyes still fast on the Tacoma, then on the condo behind the Tacoma. Number 221. Right.
Eyes fall away, fix on the little intercom set at driver's window level. He leans down and pushes a button, dialing 221.
(tristan)
he? just.. still has that.... look.. on his face. though he too is laughing until the buzzer sounds "th'fucks'that?" one would almost think he's realated to decker with such a slurred halfassed sentense... then! oh yeah! buzzer!... and he looks aaaaaall the way over to the door. fuck. fuck. fuck. he looks to Imogen and practically begs that she get it... "please?"(dire)
*Dire walks along with him. He saw the gate. The thing had rather offended him. He looks up And was about to just go over it when Decker paused.
Dire pauses. Looks at the 12 foot gate and back to Decker. He doesn't get it but what the hell. He watches.*(annalia)
She couldn't shake off the shivers that raked across her skin. She murmers under her breath, blaming it on the weather. She blinks a few times, making sure both guys were actually there and not figaments of her imagination.She slows down again, only to cover up another coughing fit. Both hands cover her mouth, eyes still on the guys, curious as to what they were up to. Nice gated community. They were hanging out by the fence. Could be friends of someone.. or something else.
(james)
closer
closer
damn incoming air attack
sometimes you just can't continue to ignore things
and soon enough, that itchy feeling comprehends through tequila haze"Ya boyfrien's here."
murmured and mumbled
barbarian's at the gate
deep umber eyes lifting slowly to look at Imogen(dire)
*Those blue eyes. Unconcerning because the mind behind them was indeed cracked come around to land again on Annalia. He tilts his head. She smelled of ciggs and stuff just like the Nicotene pack. He watches her watch them. Some of his rage repressing. The woman hadn't done anything wrong. He smiles faintly and nods. She's a good 40 feet away but Dire seems to be looking right into her soul* You have nice eyes. Havent seen that color before. * Then he looks around the street. The unknowning wouldn't think a thing about it. Those in the know would know his placement, about 7 feet from decker and to the left was perfect overlaping flanking positon if they were backed to the wall and surrounded. He does it natural. He wsn't born human and never had been. He just fakes it now and again*(imogen)
A look at all three, and yeah, she'd better go get the door buzzer. Otherwise, Decker might be the first person in history to get an "obscene intercom answerer".A flickered glance toward James as he speaks, and she gets to her feet, walking over to the intercom. "Which one o' these..." another glance over her shoulder, "Oh, never mind..."
Either having found the button she wanted, or having decided that any of the three would be .no.help.at.all., she presses the large button on the intercom.
And the gate swings open for Decker and Dire to enter.
(decker)
Two men. Trailing that aura. Coming down two miles. In the middle of the night. In the freezing cold. On foot. To visit a friend? Stranger things have happened. Still. Might wanna call security.A minute goes by, no reply. He's just raising his hand for another impatient buzz or ...ten, twenty... when the gate clicks open, and swings inward.
"Hate these fuckin posh places," he comments to Dire, and moves swayshouldered through the opening gate. Doesn't bother to wait for Dire. If the gate shut while the Skald was talking pretty, he could probably flip over it or some such crazy acrobat shit.
Passing his truck, he scrubs a speck off the hood with his elbow. Nevermind that the sides were flanked with sludge. It's the principle of the thing. Then up the stairs he goes, two at a time (one of these days...), to hammer on the door.
(tristan)
He? doesn't even realize she's asked a question, just griiiiiiins as she gets up and walks by and rather snuggles closer to Diego in that slow melt to the couch. Wait - maybe Decker will grab the other bottle for them since its...
ho. ly. fuck.
it hits him like a freight train, the rage of Decker outside the door and the moon just barely starting to loose her swell, and on top of that there's this little worm in the belly thing that's starting to roil and our pretty boy? is beginning to look a little pale... just a little though... right?
(annalia)
"Uh..."
Her head turns, looking to the left, and then the right. She wasn't quite sure who Dire was talking to. He could be telling his buddy, he had nice eyes. She found it amusing, the thought made the corners of her mouth, twitch upward into a slight smile. She cants her head to the side, staring back at them. Decker shuffles off into the gate, automatically she assumes Dire will go with him. Her attentions, drift away, as she realizes she'd been standing there and the cold was starting to nip at her again.(james)
something in him bristles
feeling Tristan react
feeling the atom bomb that's his packmate hammering on the door
there's a low groan somewhere deep inside the Gnawerhe was chillin' here to AVOID remembering what was in the sky
dark eyes slide towards the door
this isn't bound to be good
glancing towards the (his) kin"Lookin' a little green there, Tris...."
concern... or hint...
(dire)
*He sees her indesision and nods to her. One gloved hand coming out to point to her* Yeah. You. * he turns as the gate was clacking shut.* motherfucker. *Yep. Dires hands come up. He crouches a bit and then launches upwards. The sap gloves come down on the top of the gate. Dires then pulls up in one fluid motion. One hnad staing locked on the horizonal as his body inverts perfectly and then he gives a slight pop. Lets go and flips. Landing in a crouch he looks back though the gate and winks one of those blue eyes at Annalia and turns to catch up with Decker.
Did... he...Motherfucker. He just went over that thing with a grace that would put one of those little oriential prepubesant teen gymnists to SHAME, in the cold.
He catches up to Decker shortly there after. Long legs of the 6'3" Skald coving ground when noone's looking.*(imogeN)
Hammering on the door. She glances down at the deadbolt, before she simply reaches out, and turns the knob, pulling the door open.Her hand runs through her hair as she looks upward at the face of the six foot tall Fenrir.
(annalia)
"HOLY ...Shi...t"
She stares, her mouth, drops open, watching, dumbfounded. She didn't just see that. She knew.. She didn't just see that.
"oh.. fuck me..running.."She blinks, several times. Dire's little stunt reminded her of something out of moive, and with that thought, perhaps it was time to move on. She coulduse a good sobering up, right now. She turns away, wrapping her arms back around herself, tucking her hands beneath her arms for warmth. Her boots pound out quick thuds on the concrete, as she crosses the dead street, away from the complex. Annalia's head bows forward, spilling lanky black hair around her face, hiding her baffled expression. Time to get the hell out of Dodge.. or the neighborhood at least.
(diego)
arm wraps around tristan pulling him closer is it sheild or protection probably a mixture of both even as he sinks futher against james. he wants to run tail between his legs from whatever is on the other side of that door. "hey mattee prehaps we shold get to you the bathroom dont want to ruin your new flat and all"(tristan)
A little green...
That may be an understatement as he gives James a weak grin. There was a reason they fed him the worm, isn't there? One must always break in a new place with a shitload of booze and the groaning hurling aftermath of drinking it far too quickly, far too completely and good god he's getting paler by the minute and he looks over the couch to see Decker and Dire and (shit..) a glance at james and Diego (cuddled all nice and close under his thighs in the puppy pile of the couch) and that little movement of Diego's pulling him closer? (though oh my it gets a grin - no matter how.. sickly...) was just one bit too much movement and after a numb nod, he's up... and.... a completey unsteady weaving scramble toward the bathroom, door pulled open and the poor kin all but diving for the porcilain god to pay the appropriate homage to his new home...(decker)
And six feet of Fenrir looks back at her, an animal sort of arrogance in his down-the-nose gaze. What with everyone else cringing from his rage, you had to wonder how she put up with it. Or how she managed to keep the pretense, at least, up."Imogen."
An acknowledgment and a greeting both. Grey eyes flicker over her shoulder (over her head, really) at James: "Want my fuckin truck back," over Diego, and finally to Tristan in time to watch the Gnawer kin dive into the bathroom.
(james)
even with what's outright roiling inside of him in reaction
there's a slow nod.... yeh... it's up... at the two Fenrir
he's not cringing, but he can't damn well ignore it
a hand lifting to gesture absently towards Imogen
watching rather cooly from where he's molded into the couch"She's got the keys..... figured..... not a good idea to drive it... home right now."
smiiiiled
(he's plastered, allright)(imogen)
Rage and fury, a sear of heat that runs across her flesh. She had to open the door, so the idea of cringing was not an option, even if she considered it. And she stands there still, and give her credit, when Tristan goes running for the bathroom, she doesn't even turn her head to watch, because, well. We all knew (except Tristan) what was going to happen, anyway. Eyes on him and his animal arrogance, his down the nose gaze.James speaks behind her, as both hands slide into the pockets of her jeans, slender fingers slipping through the fabric in search of the keys, "They've all had rather a lot to drink," she notes unnecessarily before coming up with the Tacoma's truck keys and holding them out and up to him, the tip of her index finger put through the keychain, the keys dangling.
(diego)
at 5'5" he is the puppy that was kicked way to much. he recoils from decker hey he found james freaky but decker sends him packing. "i'lll ahhh just um go check on the kid " he rolls over the couch once more tristans probably older than him... pushing to his feet. slowly delicatly one step pause the second much steadier the third flows. yeah hes walking away very quickly. yup tail between his legs. and hey look the 5'5' figure can hold his liqour a lot better than the other 2 or prehaps its just he grw up on the shit they where swilling.(tristan)
Oh we're just not even gonna discribe the sounds coming from the bathroom. Oh nope. Not at all. We've all been there at some point or another.. suffice it to say, the worm is making it's reappearance. violently.(decker)
A snort-turned-scoff, hissed through his teeth as he takes in the glorious view. "Yeah. No shit. Yer rubbin' off on 'em." He takes the keys from her, dropping them in his pocket. "Forget 'bout the business trip, James?" Glance at the nearest clock. "Four hours."At least the Gnawer was riding in Rune's car. Meant he wasn't gonna be throwing up in Decker's.
(dire)
*He stands. Turning half away to watch their backs. Purple eyes girl had departed. A shame really. She was pretty cute. One of the sap gloved hands come up to run though his blond hair and he listens.(james)
"No." rather.... dryly, in it's slur "I'll be fine....."note he's not getting up to go home
because if he moves right now
he'll be shoving the poor kin out of the way
but there's a question in uncoordinated gaze
Decker outranks him in the pack
if he's told to go home now, he'll move(diego)
he doesnt knock on the bathroom door he just steps inside. closing it firmly behind him, eyes darting to the mirror, so easy to get away. before sliding down to tristan. his is the supporting hand on the back that rubs gently. holds you through the convulsions as stomach tries to claw its way from your body and out your mouth. awww poor baby. in here for now we can both hide.. he however fumbles around at his jeans pocket.(oh look it really was something in his pocket) the teaser sitting within hands reach now on the ground as he continues to comfort the boi praying to the porcalin god(imogen)
She arches an eyebrow faintly at the commentary, but doesn't bother speaking on it. A slight sidestep stops the two Garou from holding a conversation over her head. Shoulders and hips rest against the wall, as her hand digs into her pockets again, coming out with her own set of keys. The other hand reaches out picking up her jacket from the boxes, where she'd left it.If James is told to go home now, she'll be driving him. So, it's waiting a beat or two, now.
(tristan)
He doesn't notice Diego's entrance at first, he doesn't notice much of anything except how nice and cooooool the edge of the toilet seat is against his forhead, a groan born deep in his throat... but the worst is over it seems, and he slides over a little to just curl up against Diego... (oh there you are) and murmur.. "yur drink's evil..." through a lopsided - somewhat sickly grin..(decker)
Decker's narrowed grey stare stays on James for a long minute before the Fenrir shifts his weight slightly, leaning shoulder against doorframe and pawing his knit cap off his head. "Whatever. Come gitcha at a quarter til nine. Best be awake." His eyes skate toward the closed bathroom door, come back. " 'N tell pretty boy to keep his eyes where they belong."Guess Decker's not stooping so low as to drag 'pretty boy' out of the bathroom for a beating. Either that, or he doesn't wanna upset the good doctor - frail, shrinking violet that she must be, looking at mutilated bodies day in day out. His attentions falls on said woman now, inquiry raising one eyebrow. "Need a ride?"
(diego)
"toldya it was" his walk may have been steady but his voice is much more slurred. he can still feel the big bad on the other side of the walls, on the other side of the door. fingers still hold the teaser even as he holds the pretty boi close. there there your ok(imogen)
Whatever reaction there might be to Decker's order to his packmate is silenced and stilled and the kinfolk simply regards the Fenrir for a moment before she shakes her head, answering the question."Drove up 'ere. May as well drive back." Leaving a car in visitor's parking for too long was asking for trouble. She begins to slide into her jacket as she glances across the living room at the Bone Gnawer, "You're stayin' 'ere, right? I don't need to worry 'bout you bokin' in my car?"
(james)
there's a slow nod
fair enough
quarter til nine"I seriously doubt you've anything to worry about, Decker."
cool and calm, mmhm
big bad Fenrir vs pretty boy kin
is there really a competition?
really.
and since the couch has been otherwise vacated
the Gnawer slinks and slides and sliiiiithers down to stretch out on it"Truck's gotta full tank...."
he wasn't about to use it and return it empty
a bit of a grin offered Imogen, with a nod
he'll stay here, he'll be fine(tristan)
he chuckles, a little, ruefully "will believe ya next time... hella housewarming, huh?" and he just sorda.. relaxes into that hold for a long moment, breathing deeply of his scent, before he manages to pull himself away (not. an easy. task) and stand, rincing his mouth out, twice.. before he wipes the back of his hand over his lips, and runs fingers through his hair, grinning a lil weakly... "think... i'm allright...." for now...(dire)
*He sniffs the air. Frowns and rotates his shoulders in the oversized leather jacket.
Head turns back. Blue eyes meet Deckers and he nods.
Turns and heads down the stairs. One at a time but in a blurred roll where your not 100% sure his toes even touched them. The boy was smooth if nothing else.
His Better had asked for a location.
Something the Skald knew.
The Skald took him there. Now he was leaving. Still some snuggly time with A warm body if he chose that sort of thing before this trip.Danni smelled good.
Something of a rare find around the people he socializes with. Long leag eat up the ground as he makes his way out of the community. Back tot he gate. Doesn't jump it. He pauses by the box on the inside and just hits the little button. Watches as the gate opens and he exits heading back up the street.
A mile to his turn then a block to Danni's place.
Pausing just outside the gate a hand lashes down. Grabs something and tosses it back. The gate closing on the goblin and sheering it in half.
HA!
Might be a good night after all.
The feet fall as the Skald is gone.
(diego)
"sure you are," he holds him for that second longer than probably needed. raising to his feet slowly. following the other one staying away from that door against the far wall even as the pressure decreases ever so slightly i promise to bring the good shit next time""(decker)
Eyebrow cocks up. Cool and ...simply cool, "I ask fer yer fuckin' opinion?" James gets two guesses and the first one doesn't count. A returned nod for Dire, his eyes tracking the Skald just for a moment before they're back where they were. Nudging off from the doorframe, an easy motion, the Modi takes a lazyjointed step back from the door. "You just tell 'im what I said."(imogen)
If the conversation is continuing or not, she casts faint flick of her fingers in farewell in James's direction before stepping past Decker as he steps away from the door.It's far too late, and it's best all good doctors were gone to bed.
(james)
"Like I said."flat
tense
(feel the booze James, feeeeeel it.... relaaaax)
arm thrown up over his eyes to block out the light"Don't worry about it. Eight forty-five. I'll be up."
(tristan)
He... chuckles.. and nods a bit, looking at Diego, back to the door, and to him again.. "gettin to ya, are they?" a quick wash of his face, and he wets down those unruly curls and offers a still somewhat pale smile.. "good... an you're sure as hell not getting me to swallow that worm again.." A nod toward the door, the rage lessoning as first Dire then Decker steps off, and he nods toward the door. "common... couch's more comfortable then the floor in here.."(diego)
"no" hey look hes leaking too just no where near as bad as the others "ok maybe a little bit, not so sure about this the floors cold and smooth and cold" hands running over the floor over the tiles before he moves to the door and pushes through it eyes travelng slowly to the couch "your right it might be more comfortable"(decker)
Decker nods, a wordless, slow tilt of his chin up before the pulls the door shut between he and his packmate.Alone on the porch, then, he takes the time to roll himself a joint. Takes the time to let Imogen get a good head start, really, because it's far too late and he had a thousand miles to drive in four hours. Joint rolled and twisted off at the end, he ends up tucking it behind his ear for later. Keys are fished out of his pocket, and he heads for the Tacoma.
Nice to get off his feet, after all.
(tristan)
He chuckles, and nods... following Diego (slowly, wobbling, weaving) out to the living room as decker takes off... an unsteady walk to door throws the deadbolt again, and then he kinda collapses against the back of the couch to look at James... "well shit. I'm guessing we should get the blankets and pillows and hit the floor." just grinned up at Diego... "james looks like kinda a lumpy pillow."(james)
"I am." chuckled from beneath that light sheilding arm "Want me to move?"not like he missed the vibes or anything
two on the bed and one on the floor far more comfortable anyway(diego)
he grins at james "as long as the lumps are in all the right places i am sure your more than comfortable." and he watches as tristan closes and deadbolts the doors hey my flat is that way i need to get out there lateer. leaning against the wall to stoop himself from falling over. what he wants to do is go upstairs to his nice queen sized bed. but its tristans first night in his new flat cant be sleeping over elsewhere(tristan)
He laughs and considers poking james but instead he just shrugs. "move long enough for me to pull out the bed for ya, allright?" or for them. or for something. and he looks over at Diego and arches a brow - not like he can't unlock the door.... but will he? he pushes up and moves over to the wall to lean against it next to Diego.. murmuring.. "you gonna stay?" its clear he'd like him too.. but he ain't forcing him.. but the vibes are there, and the tall lanky kin is more then willing to explore them a bit with his new neighbor... unless he's headed up to his own bed..
(james)
"Never had a complaint yet."chuckled
yeh.... real glad he's still behind that sheilding arm
not for long, though
and soon enough he's peeeeeeling himself off the couch
none too steadilyhave you ever noticed that when you move around you really realize how much alcohol is in your system?
he's half standing
half falling and stumbling over a few feet
sheeeeyit(diego)
he turns to you the look is considering the grin slowly spreading across his face as he watches tristan. "i dont think i could make the trip up the stairs" that grin grows wider again as he looks at you eyes darting to james but mostly they stay on tristan "sooooo... i guess i am staying"(tristan)
That? gets a laugh as he looks over at James again. "From the sounds in that damn condo - the only compaints you get are from the neighbors..." oh yes, boyishly teased, with half of his stomach emptied, hes at that comfortable drunk again (lil queasy, but allright)
Then he's looking at Diego again, that slow smile creeping over his features as he lifts a hand, finger sliding along his jaw as he chuckles softly. "I guess you are.." A wink, and he turns and weeeeeeeee lookit the room spin... steadys himself, and then cushions are pulled f the couch, tossed aside, coffee table moved, bed pulled out.. then! its the search for blankets and pillows in... that box over there...(james)
he's something of an assitance
at least with wrestling one pillow away from the couch
the momentum from that sends him towards the box
so he just gives up on rebound and grabs the bedding
mooooostly holding it out towards Tristan
but if he extends his arms too far
the weight is gonna take him right over
(and it's beginning to already)(diego)
that finger runs along his jaw and he sighs ever so quietly an outbreath "on complaints from me" that fingers so close he turns his face to touch it with his lips sucking it into his mouth rolling tongue over it delicatly before letting it slide out again. tristan pulling away to unfold the couch he wonders who needs more help him or james.. he watches them both deciding it will be best to take the bedding from james dumping the blankets he helps pull a sheet over the matress before throwing pillows towards couch end(tristan)
Oh. my. god.
That little tongue trick just gets a flat. out. moan..soft, but certainly there..
before he does turn away again and he's just laughing at James though he is not in much better condition... he manages to grab bedding, as well as James as that weight threatens to topple him over.. "whoooooo now.. gonna pull us both over..." With a grin at Diego.. he makes sure James is steady before he situates couch cushions on the floor.
Room for two in the bed.
Comfortable cushions for one on the floor. blanket and pillow placed atop them and he nudges James that'away.. "unless you want to share the bed with us.." offered with an oh. so. wicked. grin... just how drunk is James?(james)
luckily, Tristan is one of the larger Kin around
and he's not taken completely down by the Garou's weight
cause James? Is. Trashed.
that little nudge sends him towards the makeshift bed and downshaking his head with a soft chuckle
looking up from this rather comfortable sprawl"Don't think I'd be able to drag myself back up there."
nice dodge around the "want" issue
Posted by james at 12:00 AM.01.21.03. - moving in [tristan-diego-imogen-dire-dellenger-trev][north jersey]
(tristan)
Moving day.
He can't remember when the last time he had his own place to move into. He can't remember how long it's been since he wanted to have his own place to move into. The last inclinations to choose a place and settle down eons ago in memory, so much so that he cannot truly pinpoint where and when it was.. no more then a vague recolation of pretty eyes, strong thighs, and delightful moans..
Yet here he is, the born wanderer, helped by family to find a place, and settle in to stay for a while - close enough to Momma Grace she won't worry half as much, and far enough away that her switch doesn't hold half the threat - the best of both worlds, that.
It hadn't taken him long to gather what little he actually brought to town with him, necessities shoved into his pack, and that, along with his violin case, set in the cab of the truck. Decker wasn't happy about it, but how else were they to get the hideabed couch, coffee table, dining table and chairs to the new place? Mullified only by the fact that this means the catterwallin pretty boy will be out of his house - and possibly better yet? farther away from Imogen.
Oddly enough, he feels like it is Christmas, what with the new (old) things, new (old) place, new (first!) phone number and new family member to help put it all in place before Momma comes to visit to ensure her baby is living well enough to suit her tastes. What more could our boy wish for?(james)
probably. not. much.he had worded the appeal for use of the Tacoma -very- precisely
while Rune may have intended it for the pack, they all knew the Modi claimed the truck
to help Tristan move out
out of hearing range
out of Imogen range
out of Decker's range, basically
with little more than a grunt and a nod
the keys were bequeathed to the Gnawer's care
(Don't you scratch my truck, James)
it's all goodpack and violin case set in the King cab's back seat
along with some pillows, few blankets and a thick comforter
a boxful of things to cook with or in, and some phone that should still work
there's even a random lamp
along with the couch, chairs, and tables - less than a hundred bucks
all bow down and pay homage to the thrift store Gods
(and the credit card the GlassWalker let them borrow)that was two hours ago
since then, they've arrived, and moved the tables and chairs in
that leaves the foldaway couch, and what's still in the locked cab
but the Ahroun isn't quite ready for that yet
a hip resting against the molded wheel well
bic flaring orange halo onto his face
long drag pulled from the Camel into lungs that will never blacken(tristan)
Fingers search pockets in some sort of random order, finally coming up with a pack of (imogen's) camels and hotpink lighter. Long legs still for a moment from lazy kick under the tailgate that holds the lean Gnawer kin, long enough to set flame to smoke, inhaling first while lighter is tucked away before legs resume their swing and he stretches slightly. "been a long damn time." Idly mused as he looks toward the building they've been unloading into...
The apratment is small, a little effiency, bathroom, kitchenette, living area that doubles as a bedroom once the couch has been moved. 70's decor, orangeish carpet that's seen better days, wainscoating along the bottom half of the walls, plaster above. Relatively new appliences, however, and it is clean, which is more then can be said for some places he's stayed in the past three years. Fortunately, it's on the ground floor, so they haven't had to truely over extend themselves - not that simple moveing would do so to either of them, but better then up and down 15 flights of stairs or some such nonsense. It's always better if Tristan can still lift his arms to play tomorrow...
All hail Rune, her creditcard, and her strings pulled to get him financial aid, lowered rent, and decent neighbors. At least they look decent enough, those that watch the boys move back and forth and back and forth, curious, yet not so much as to actually come out and meet them just yet. (who can blame them with the full moon barely past?) - and while we're at it, all hail James for being willing helper in this excursion.
A rueful grin, a shake of head, repeated comment. "a long. damn. time."(diego)
he was hiding from the family not so much the extended family but the imediate family comming as far north as he could get he had thought about newyork but his cousin angelo was up there. would probably tell his father just where he is. they wouldnt look here in this small hell hole they wouldnt expect him to be so close to family.so it is that this figure finds himself in the building not more than two days now watching as tristan and james unload thier own truck wonder which one it is thats moving in? a casual shrug he passed you on the stairs on his way out. the corner store now he is comming back sitting on the stoop of the building he watches smiling ever so slightly from behind those glasses. legs crossed inf ront of him. dark pin stripe pants and a blue wifebeater all under a wool lined duffly coat although its not done up hes still trying to learn the concept of cold. its never this cold where he comes from or so it seems.
(james)
past
barely
there's a multitude of reasons he decided the kin was going to be helped
Tristan really had no choice in the matter
even if he knows that no other choice really would have been madethe rueful grin, the repeated comment
all it gets is a smile lingering on the Gnawer's face
some underbreath voice of acknowledgement
more than likely just exhaled on a plume of smoke
the layers have been peeled off
the still vibrant warm of that Rage burning away beneath his skin
the physical exertion, however mild, coupled with only served to intensify
on first trip the patchwork trench was left behind
sweater joining very soon after
even the t-shirt can now be found to lay atop the pile in a cornerit leaves him in the wifebeater
ashed scars creeping up from beneath greyed fabric onto the backs of his shoulders
fully exposed, now, since dreads are tied back with the dark gray bandana
faded and stained BDUs low on hips for lack of a better belt
for lack of a belt at all, to be honest
muscle through his forarm flexes and coils in the lift of smokestick to mouth"Don't think you made out half bad."
(tristan)
Tristan? Wouldn't have turned it down. In all his wanderings, in all the places he's been - here, wiht the cold weather and multitude of rage, and James, of course - has become home. Faster then he ever thought possible...
The cutie on the steps sure doesn't hurt either, and is given a nod of hello - but he doesn't press, some people just aren't up to saying hi right away. He won't intrude.. but... A warm place to lay his head and eyecandy? Well. This day just keeps getting better and better.
His coat was shed - his sweater too, but that still leaves him in long sleeved t-shirt. He's lived in the south too long, even with constant movement, it's -cold- out here where their footsteps have made paths in new fallen snow - the still smooth expanse next to the building that's unmollested until the kids returned from school and finished homework (there's still a patch or two that calls to inherrant boyishness that wants to make snowballs and wing them at his friend..
Another inhale, and fingers push back that shock of corkscrew curls that immediately fall back into disarary again. "not half-bad at all. Rune is incredible. Not half bad to look at either." Wicked grin, playful duck from any imagined (or real) swipe that he deserves.(diego)
now that captures his attention james that is, the figure that flows past carrying boxes an peirced eyebrow raises from behind those reflective glasses. gold of course. now this is most interesting before he just thought it was a new set of cute bois moving into the building. now well now well yeah.he smiles and nods to tristan as he passes before raisng to his feet. he flows into the building. after the two them, all 5'5" feet of him he watches where they go notes the appartment and moves to sit now on the inside stairs. the ones leading up towards his own floor. a smile still i place as he watches from behind glassess.
(james)
chin lifts in something of a wave at the guy on the steps
but his attention mostly stays on his kinsman
grin raking sly
and a brow lifts again
through some sideways glance
reaching out across the bed's lip and shoving Tristanright towards that big mound of snow they've been half tripping over with each load from the truck
not half bad to look at, at all, boyo writ in his grinthe Camel is flicked away
he's moved away before Tris even has a chance to recover
unlocking the passenger back door
stretch of muscle pulling out the box of stuffs
sleeping stuff, cooking stuff, lamp stuff
all in a big heavy box
which he takes himself and heads back in
leavning the door open to get case and packnot quite ready for that couch yet
far too much coordination will be requireda bit of a double take on the guy now sitting on the steps that head up to the second floor
just a small ways down from the door of the apartment in question
something.... tugs at him
but all that makes it out is a friendly"S'up?"
as he takes the big box inside
(tristan)
Shoved - he goes flying toward that mound, and maybe not recovering too quickly - but fast enough a handful is grabbed packed and thrown..
...and missing, smashing just to the side of the door, mere inches from his friend. He's laughing as he shakes the snow from lean frame, moving around to grab violin case, and backpac - the latter thrown over shoulder as he checks to make sure nothing fell out of the box, one last drag taken, butt flicked away, and he closes the door to the truck and heads inside. brows lift a bit as he sees the neighbor has moved - and still watches, his grin boyish, warm as he nods, and repeats James' greeting "s'up?" as he heads inside.. a glance over his shoulder to see if the boy is curious enough to follow.(diego)
that eyebrow raises again as james moves closer he actually shrinks back a little trying to stop his own inner fire from being kindled by that wich pours from the man with the dredlocks. "hola" his accent is thick and dripping a blend of miami and something else something much further south of the border. which would make sense when you look at him its stamped all over his features. "soooo. which one of you is moving in?"(james)
even as Luna wanes from her pregnancy
what burns in him is still unmistakable
and he didn't miss that shrink back
not. at. all.
needless to say, curiosity is peaked"He is."
folding over to set the box beside the coffeetable
lanky body righting itself with slow stretch
dreads jerking a bit over shoulders as he nods towards Tristan
not looking smug at all from the snowball miss
even if there's a few splatters of snow melting wet dots across wifebeater"Help with the couch?"
smug as well as not particularly shy
(at least about some things)
already heading back out towards the Tacoma
it's obvious they won't need any help carrying it
but it'd be nice if someone would get the doors(tristan)
"that would be me.." Said in conjunction with Jame's comment - he, in that missed snow and blooseming smug look on Gnawers face (so that's how it's gonna be, hm? juuuuust you wait...) he missed the shrinking back. He, himself, hides the (relaxing, slowly, finally) knot of tension that settles in the base of his spine with ease.
He sets down violin case on the coffee table, swings his pack down next to the box, and returns to look at Diego with a boyish grin - since james asked for the help, he'll do the introductions. "Names Tristan, and the boy there about to get pummeled with snowballs - after he helps carry in the couch - is James."
Smiled, in passing, as he nods to the door in followed question of help, before he steps out side toward the Tacoma... since he's finally ready to brave ice and snow for that couch, better do it before they decide on another break instead.(diego)
eyes flow from james to tristan behind those glasses. only if you promise not to eat me. "sure why not i remember what it was like trying to lug mine upstairs took me half the day i swear." grining ever so slightly. are you one of us too? not having been close enough to him to really tell. yet he did throw snow at the other one and noe is contemplating pummelling him with snowballs no one would ever have done that to his brother. or the rest of the pack him maybe but not the others. "u can call me diego" he flows to his feet. standing slowly contemplating taking his coat off but decides against it. way to cold out there. and he doesnt need to be some big strong heman "do you want me to help carry it or just hold the doors"(james)
a dark brow lifts towards the bandana as they're outside
cooly looking back over his shoulder at Tristan
pummeled, huh?
but it slides into an easy grin"Nice to meetcha, Diego, and yeh, doors would be great."
the rope used to tie the couch down is loosened
it's just one smooth pull to drag it aaaaallllll the way to the edge
(bed liners are a good thing)
waiting for Tristan to grab hold of the other end just for navigational purposes(tristan)
"Ditto.." tossed over his shoulder as he wanders to the truck. His grin? Completely unrepentant, though he knows darn well that as likely as not? he won't be able to hit him. But with a wink he grabs that other end of the couch, though by having 'helped' loading it he knows James could probably manage on his own if he wanted too. So - navigational purposes it is. And yeah, most boys wouldn't have the guts to even throw that first snowball, let alone contemplate a second. but he? is not your normal boy. And after being a punching back for james, he figures he's owed at least one good solid ice cold hit. With plenty of time to run and hide, afterwards, of course. for now? he'll settle for navigating the couch through the doors, and into place without slipping and falling on his ass.(diego)
he watches james with that weary air of a predator, are you like my brother and the rest of his gang? while tristan gets an entirely different look. glad that his eyes are covered by those mirror shades. and that the blush that threatens to creep into his cheeks could be explained off as a reaction to the extreme cold (well extreme to hiim) he watches them stepping to the side as they take the couch holding the front doors to the building wide open as he makes sure not to block the way. moving quickly to inner door the one to his flat proper once they have made thier way through the foyer and down the corridor.(james)
it's rare that he has someone so openly react to what he is
the first in a long time was Jael
she shrank back from him as if he were going to strike her
and for a split second he understood what it was the Modi must feel
that uncontrollable reaction to the uncontrollabe Rage
and now, he can feel the nervous tension that's underlying Diego's natural scent
somewhere deep down
it eats at himand is ignored
(....mostly)once inside, he lets the navigation become a sudden ballet of moving furniture
pivoting in the small area to settle the couch in the predesigned area and not fall over the coffeetable
it is a discussion of balance and grace and sheer freakin' luck
but they do it
with minimal mishapand once he straightens
something of a satisfactory nod given the once lonely now getting homey apartment
there's a step towards Tristan
and a fist wraps in the chest of that long sleeve t-shirt
drawing the Kin right on up close"You. Outside."
half murmured
half sneered
something of a savage glint in deep umber eyes
challenge bleeding into his (dangerous) grin
that's when the Gnawer turns, letting go
a sly glance towards Diego in passing
disappearing out the doorand by the time the Kin catches up
there's already two snowballs resting on the Tacoma's tailgate
bicep flexing as he's packing down a third(dellinger white)
The cold winter night finds one lonely soul occupying the stoop outside a brick tenement. Bundled up in a thick woolen jacket with a knit cap on his head, Dell is huddled up, smoking what looks like a cigarette, but smells completely unlike a cigarette. He takes a deep puff and holds it ... holds it...looks at the cigarette...holds it....then exhales slowly with a genuinely relaxed sigh. Gloved fingers hold carefully to the cigarette in his hand as he peers around the street with heavy lidded eyes.(diego)
pooor boi but like he is going to miss this. he wants to see the big bad get splattered by the frozen snow. he grins and even with the tension the fear the weariness and respect (your bigger stronger and scarier than me) there is a glint of humour hidden by those eyes and the grin it seems more natural than the weary predator that does not know if it is stalking or eing stalked. . his place on the side of the steps the concrete underneath him lounging along its banisters length. thick enough that his entire body fits across it easily. back resting against the wall near the door, legs crossed once more. he watches as james begins to pack the third snowball.(tristan)
Sashey left, tiptoe right, swing your partner round and round, bow to your partner, bow to the corner, slide to the left and trip over the box and regain feet, and composure, with something akin to grace (er. not.) and that boyish grin before the couch is set down and hands brushed together with a satisfied nod.
It's then he's grabbed and pulled close - hands in instant reaction to settle along lean waist just above those pecariously low jeans, the touch almost electric as he arches a brow, slightly, and mutters under his breath just before he's let go.. "tease"
Then james walks (stalks) away leaving just that savage challenge crackling in the air and with a laugh he moves to stand in front of Deigo.. "care to help a brother out? otherwise? I'm gonna get my ass creamed." a boyish grin and he's stepping outside, eyeing those packed snowballs and instantly setting bout packing his own...tight. Looking at that bicep flexing? those are gonna stiiiiiiiiing.(dell)
The cigarette stops smoking and Dell curses beneath his breath, bulky gloved fingers dig inside his jacket pockets for the lighter with the naked chick on it. Turn it upside down ... voila...tits and ass...turn it up and she's Sally Schoolgirl....great entertainment. Grinning to himself, for no particular reason at all, he lights the smoke again and takes another deep toke ...hold it...hold it...hold it...breathe......(james)
snow crunches beneath the pressure of his palms
carefully molding and shaping the little albino brain chiggers into a perfect projectile sphere
he probably should have thought to put his coat back on
but that would be thinking ahead now, wouldn't it
and what's thinking ahead in spontenaiety?the third is carefully lain in row with the first two
hand dropping to slide into the pocket of the BDU (<-- !!)
sloooowly pulling out the pack of Camels and lighter
drawing one out and placing it between his lips
giving Tristan time to pack his arsenal"You get one free one."
spoken from behind hands cupped to shield ignition's flame
after that? It's ON
(trev)
up the street....notpaying attention to anything - just walking up the street. Eyes at half mast...red and glazed a bit, a nice aroma of Acapulco Gold wofting off his leather jacket. Hair that falls into his eyes..covdering the baby blues. A *Distillers* shirt hanging down over baggy jeans. Hands shoved deep into his pockets as he wanders to find Dell(dell)
Dell .... Dell is on the stoop of his building choking. Hack hack hack croup....it's nasty sounding really. His otherwise slightly tanned face turns red and he stomps his foot on the step ... watery eyes shift to where he's certain Trev is approaching from. Catching his breath he grins, sort of a Cheshire cat grin (on weed...man) and nods. "Dude ... it's like about time, man..."(diego)
"hey kid catch"he could be older than diego who looks oooh grand total of 16, 17 its a snowball the grand total of his contribution to this fight. one he has been making and muttering over since he first steped through the doors. shaping it between cold fingers he offers it to tristan "other than that i suggest you duck"(trev)
Matching the cheshire grin he looks up and pushes the hair out of his eyes...for a second...before it falls right back into place. "hey...man." Stopping in front of the stoop..."had things to do...got caught up" Fingers move to his lips in a 'smokin a joint' motion and he makes an inhale sound....cheech n chong style Smile grows..."and she was hot ya know...man i had to stick around"(tristan)
One packed, another one started, and laughter boyish and free. He didn't put a coat on either, but hey - its all in the spontenaiety. A sly glance toward James in those BDU (<--!!)s and wife beater, and that slow lighting of smoke, chuckling. "Gee, thanks. Hear that diego? He's a gentleman too." smirked toward the dredlocked Gnawer. Only one. H'd better make it count.
Third snowball packed, nice and tight, molded matching sphere.. and he looks up at Diego with a grin, taking the snowball (who ya callin kid, man.) with a nod. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind. "a littel toss to test the weight... shoulder rolled to loosen up... likely hiding place found that he can get too and fast and with a lifted brow.. its ready. aim. FIRE!. Don't even give him time to finish that smoke because you know what? he's a deadman if he does. arm cocked, aim checked, snowball zinging straight toward James's chest as Tristan is alerady reaching and grabbing a second..(dell)
"Trev-san..." He grins and hands the smoke to Trev. "You're so fuckin' dreamin' man ..." Dell laughs, readjusting the knit hap on his head so that it doesn't completely cover his eyes. Trev's hair is longer than Dell's from what can be seen peeking out of the knit cap. "I've been like sittin' here watchin' this....incredible war of the snowballs man...." a pause and he wipes a gloved hand across his nose, grinning. "Dude. It's fuckin' cold out here.....it's like...what....almost the end of January ....shouldn't it be getting warm by now?"
(trev)
He takes the smoke, pulls adrag and holds it for a second...not sure how it even got in his hand. Eyes dart across the street to the little snowball fight..."cool"
pause
"huh?" he glances back to Dell..."dude its cold till like march isnt it?" pondering that for a moment..."dude with all the weird ozone shit and that la nino thing, what if it never gets warm again...it could happen ya know...i saw something about that on discovery channel..we're all goin back to the icee age...igloos and shit"
(imogen slaughter)
Visitor's parking is always pitiful and pathetic, but she finds one, and swings the mercedes-benz (goddamned.sweet.ride) into one of the aforementioned parking spot s.A bottle of tequila in one hand (yeah, well, considering her sense of humour, latent as it is, it was rather apt), her other hand in her pocket, she walks across the snow covered parking lot and pulls up short a fairly safe distance from the beginning onslaughter of insanity between James and Tristan and... uhm. Whoever that is.
An impression of dark eyes and pale skin. Hair the colour of a late autumn sunset. All those colours of red possible on the natural earth. And she is not getting anywhere closer to the display of 'manly,' prowess, amusement better displayed in the planes of her face rather than anything reflected on her lips.
(james)
ziiiiiingSPLATTA!
there's a bit of a grunt around the Camel clenched between teeth
(that's. COLD.)
coughing up the smoke in something that sounds a lot like a laugh
he's reaching to brush the clinging snow off the beater
and that's when he's noticing the second snowball flying straight at his face.... oh chit.
that sudden flail would be the Gnawer ducking
dreads bouncing as gravity is momentarily defied
half-leaning half-sitting on the Tacoma's tailgate
balance has gone completely to hell
but he's firing a snowball back
and fast
(dell)
He takes the smoke back when it's offered, eyes heavy lidded watch those passing by lazily before they attempt to track the snow ball as it zings and zooms and zips from one body to the next...sort of like Pong on acid. "...the hell are you talkin' about? That's El Nino man ...." Laughing he shakes his head and takes another deep toke....the bulky gloves get in his way as the paper burns down on the smoke. "You know what would be cool? It'd be cool man, if like we had this big melt down and lost some water in the oceans ...and like...we could walk from like....New York to other countries...dude...we could go to Amsterdam..."(tris)
OH that cough? that splat of the first one? gets a very. smug. grin. Cuz he knows it will be his last and the flail brings a bright laugh, another snowball grabbed - but not thrown just yet, watching that fast fire (god damn! DUCK) that leads to a sudden 'oomph' as it hits his shoulder midturn (ow.).. shiver as snow slides over his form and he's spinning and that third snowball is ziiiiiiingged toward James - only halfway aimed because he catches sight of Imogen and he pauses to grin at her..(trev)
Hie eyes jump from his head, jaw dropping...now that was an idea Pushing the hair from his eyes again--only to have it fall immediately back down..."dudeee...walk to amsterdam..yeah...hey i heard they were making this bridge...or maybe tunnel, from the unites states all the way to europe" hand comes out of his pocket with a snap and the yellow and black yo-yo is dropping to the ground...lingering for a bit of walk the dog...and snaps back up to his hand...
"walk to amsterdam...dude-- i got this friend, he got these seeds from amsterdam...said they were from the winner of this years cannibus cup" the yo-yo dances to the ground again, and snaps back up. "I told him i wanted to see, i dont believe him, that dudes full of shit"(diego)
his reosonce to the first snowball is to fall over the stoop hey hes not stupid he doesnt want to be int he fireing line. when they star although he does help tristan hes making more snowballs and lining them up along the stoop for him stopping at the third one. to hold it in his hands singing softly over it is it spanish? no portugese actually. ~come little spirit ice and snow trapped in this ball for me to throw, awaken little spirit of cold and winter winds. let you go splat against the big bads~ he cant sing to save his life but its what its supposed to be anyway. singing. the tune so out of tune that it makes him wince but he smiles at the snow ball. the pause of tristan as he turns spun around with the force of james throw the smile grows wider that snowball leaves hand flying towards james.(imogen)
"Jesus. Two against one. 'S that even fair?" quiet voice, lilting accent, almost burred with whatever her homeland may be. Europe somewhere, likely. United Kingdom and all of that.Tristan's grin was caught, perhaps, but considering the amount of energy Tristan may have to spend not getting creamed by whatever James was about to thrown at him, the redhead doesn't even bother wasting the energy smiling back, had she even considered it. A few steps bring her onto the sidewalk now, watching the ensuing carnage as a black gloved hand drags through her hair.
(dell)
He hands the smoke to Trev chuckling as it burns the tip of his fingers, one last toke is left ...sweet. Now THAT is the sign of a true friend...give up the last toke. Dell itches the back of his head. "Yeah that'd be the shit man...get in a car....drive over some new fuckin' road left by receding water and head to Amsterdam..." Leaning back, elbows propped on the step behind him he continues to try and track the snowballs in the afore mentioned war. "....you gotta watch these guys...man...every pot head says they've been to Amsterdam...it's like...the promised land for the Muslims or some shit, you know? With like forty virgins and endless legal weed.....endless fuckin' legal weed man....God that'd be sweet..."(james)
hey
he said a free one
and if the Kin missed?
there would definitely be some issuesand half aimed one?
misses
and a brow simply liiiifts at the sudden big white blotch on the side of the black truck's bed
(too amused)nod up for Imogen
and he's snapping another one after Tristan
followed fast by the third
followed fast by the Ahroun himselfwhy settle for a snowball when you can tackle your opponent and bury them in the snow?
then quite distracted by the sudden COLD coming from his right"Hey!"
stooping to grab a random handful of snow and fling it, unpacked, back at the boy hiding on the stairs, and then the chase is one again (where, oh where, did my little Kin go....)
(trev)
He takes the small pice of roach left and finishes it...savoring the smoke for a moment before speaking his mind...."yeah but i heard its not really legal..i mean, its legal to smoke it, and its legal to buy it, but its not legal to sell it, or some shit, unless you are the proprietor of a coffee shop...then its legal to sell it but not legal to grow it?" --he tries reciting the line from Pulp Fiction...and confuses himself in the process...."endless leal weed" he pulls out a small little tin and opens it...many other matching roaches laying in the tin..."tossin it in the roach motel" he smirks and pockets the tin. Eyes making their way back to the snowball fight..."dudes got some cool dreads...im gonna dread my hair when its longer i think...dreads are cool...i knew this guy who had dreads all the way to his knees...didnt wash his hair ever...nasty man,,when i get dreads im gonna at least wash my hair once in a while...otherwise its nasty ya know" Leaning back next to Dell..."you get more shit in?" cheshire grin returning(diego)
he just smiles glad that it is tristan about to be tackled and not him sliding back into his seat on the stoop turning to study the woman who just showed up the one they both seem to know. the shower of snow brushed from his face and that wool lined duffle coat he wears.(tristan)
A wince as it hits the truck (don't. scratch. my. truck. james.) and then it's sudden duck and cover and a grin for Diego and "oh shit!" as suddenly the full moon launches himself. Now that? is not fair. two against one, when one is an ahroun is not even fair - but to the two, not James.. and the pretty boy scrambles for purchase, packing as he goes, turning to wing that snowball at the fast approacing James and then hs hightailing it... straight.. toward.. Imogen... he's not above hiding behind the pretty redhead if it helps... but something tells him that he's not even gonna make it that far...(dell)
Nodding he fumbles in his pocket and pulls out first a bag of pills (uppers, downers, laughers, screamers....) and slides them back in ....digs in further and comes up with a small Ziploc baggie full of primo green. Smell that stink? That's skunk man....doesn't get much better 'n that. Unless it's Gold....the Mexican stuff? Aye carumba. "Roll one up all 007 like...well, I say we could open up one of them coffee shops dude.....I mean....that would be like tough." Pausing he, again, readjusts his cap. "Dreads? Man ... dreads? Really?" He shifts his head to look at Trev. "You've been smokin' too much weed...dude...that's how the hair gets all napped out .... you don't wash it and it gets all...funk-da-fied..." His eyes slither back over to the romping playful group with a grin. "I hope that guy brings the Chevelle back man..."(imogen)
The petite woman gives Tristan what might be a deadly glance as he barrels toward her, with James charging after him.Her weight shifts slightly, toward the balls of her feet, likely because while Tristan wasn't beneath hiding behind pretty redheads for cover, pretty redheads aren't beneath leaving kinfolk to the mercy of their tribesmates.
Though it looks much like Tristan might not even get that far, so for the few following precious seconds, she remains where she is.
(james)
he was going to say something
there was going to be some verbal sparring to go along with this
a breath taken to begin this great tirade of.... something
whatever it was?
is lost
because he's ducking the oncoming snowball
badly aimed
but it seems like a charmthat one smacks right into his face
causing him to shudder
causing him to stumble
causing him to dive at the Kin
he may never have played legal football
but he can damn well tackle
(the speed and power of a wolf taking down a full grown moose)
taking Tristan down and skidding on the snow
white flurry tidal wave avalanche spraying all. over. Imogen's. legs. as they slide to a stop just before herTristan pinned into the snow bank sort've... created...
the raggedy dreadlocked man on top of him looking up with a totally. unrepentant. grin"S'up Imogen?"
(trev)
He nods.."yeah you're right..." shrugging slightly as he glances to the bag...his attention peaked now..."dudeeeee that smells dope" the grin grows and he gras the bag, moving himself - turning around- as to not be a spectacle..last he heard bags of pot were still illegal...."dis is the bomb" he nods a few times and hands it back...."put me in for some...my regular...dude right on" hand sails through the air for a high-five...dont leave me hanging "Dude sluts are legal in amsterdam too...thats fucking coo..killer pot and sluts..and i heard they make them take aids tests and shit and they have papers...so you know you wont have something nasty as a souveneir..."
Jay and Silent Bob.. well not so Silent Bob(dell)
He grins and nods, sliding the baggie back into one of the many pockets in his jacket. "That's just fucked up. I'm all for a piece of nookie now and then, dude....but they give them papers? Really?" Squinty eyes shift to peer at Trev and he nudges him with his elbow slightly. "Shut the fuck up man ......" a pause. "Really?"(trev)
"dude i swear" he nods..."no shit..they like put them in the window..all flaunting their shit around...and like when ya go in, you can check their papers...tells ya if they got crabs or whatever...dude crabs would suck" he shakes his head..."i knew this dude...he got crabs from his ol lady....said they were like these little things with pincers" he winces..."can you imagine fucking bugs crawlin on yer shit?"(tris)
The badly aimed one smacks him right. in. the. face and the kin? grins almost sheepishly - half a second before he's tackled and the tirade that may have been returned in friendly banter lost in the oomph! of kin sliding along ground with madly surfing gnawer atop him..legs and arms scrambling to bring them to a stop.
A little impromtu snowbank, and a purely boyish grin as he looks up at the pretty redhead and coughing a little, spitting out a mouthful of snow until with a single lithe fluid movement he writhes and handful of snow is not aimed for face, nor chest, back or arms. Oh no. Those low BDU's? grab with one hand, pulled back and toss snow with the other right down the back of James's pants. If he's gonna get it? may as well be totally worth it.(imogen)
Two in snow sliding forward rolling forward kicks up obscuring puffs and flurries of snow. She had taken a half step back at the rolling snow ball o' Gnawer that was coming at her, and saved herself from joining the pile, instead having her jeans and boots panted with snow.A glance down at the grinning dreadlocked man and his rather... uhm... smited... kinfolk, a crooked half smile crawling across her lips as her eyebrow arches. And another step back as Tristan declares war once more, and was apparently not quite as smited as she'd thought.
"We're christening the front lawn, then, are we?" She inquires rhetorically because she hardly expects either of them to take the time to answer her.
(diego)
ooooh thats got to hurt. wincing as the poor kinfolk is taken to the ground. that poor cute little boy, should he help? will the woman help? will he get hung fro the cealing by his wrists for 2 days for helping? he is sooo cute though and us residents should stick together hey. freindly neighbourhood and all that stuff a smile as he slips from the steps almost silent feet (spent a lot of time hiding) a handfull of snow crunch of boots all the warning hes going to get as he slides skids to a halt that hand so many hands with tristan struggling beneath you anway will he even notice it doesnt give him the chance moving faster than he should be able to the back of waistline is pulled out and the handfulls of cold (oh so cold) snow are dropped down along his spine. another lload is dropped down the back of his shirt(dell)
"Wow." A pause. "Dude." A pause. "There is just something inherently wrong about that...." He laughs, wiping his gloved hand across his nose again as he slides the nudie lighter over to Trev, upside down, so the plaid skirt slowly disappears from trim long legs. "Jesus Trev, for a young kid...you know...you know someone that knew someone that knows someone that was friends with Moses man ....you're a fuckin' trip man...." Shifting on the steps as his butt gets a bit cold. "I let this guy borrow my Chevelle man ... I got bowling league tomorrow dude....I hope he brings the car back..."(james)
"Yeh Imogen, wOH MY GOD!"yes
not quite yelled. not quite shrieked. not quite bloodcurdling. but close enough.
as if the snow down his PANTS wasn't bad enough
suddenly there's a glacier moving along his spine
and he is writhing on the snow
just about crawling out of that suddenly freezing skin
twisting to shove Tristan down into the bank again
reaching to grab Diego's jacket and haul him down into the snow, too
Imogen? Ain't safe either.
what's a christening if everyone isn't involved?
down she goes, too(tristan)
And he? is sputtering into laughter, suddenly shoved back into the snow again, shivering as it soaks through long sleved t-shirt and then he's trying to help catch Imogen, Diego he figures can fend for himself more then she and for gods sake save the bottle! all of which results in mainly him writhing as he's all. out. laughing....(trev)
Pushes the hair from his eyes again...shaking his head..letting the moses comment just flow off him...he did actually know someone who had a friend ho---never mind--
"dude bowling is lame" he pulls out a ragged pack of Camels and pulls out a smoke.."chicks dont dig bowlers...i mean cmon, the shoes" he lights it up with the cool naked chick getting undressed as it is turned...
he flips it a few times..oggling it then lights the smoke and returns it to its rightful owner.."its lame man...what time you going? Can i come along and watch?" grinning a bit and glancing to the spot where the car goes, now addressing the problem.."who you lend it to man? you shouldnt give out yer car...dude..i got a friend who lent out his car...fucker did a run with it, and got busted..bops impounded the car, and came to him after spouting all sorts of shit...shouldnt lend out the car man...." shaking his head..Oh Trevor...wise one all of 19 years old(dire)
*Down the street walks everyones favorite metis madman. Pausing to take a swipe at the closest goblin here and now he's just out strolling.
Steel toed combat boots, jeans, flannel shirt under the leather jacket two sizes too big.*(imogen)
Alright, that's it. James had to grab her legs and haul her, but down she goes into the snow, sliding across with a "Hey! Bloody fuckin'..." a spill of indignant british outrage and whatever it was that James was is not completed as she first... ensures the safety of the bottle of liqueur, with the help of Tristan. And then.She doesn't particularly take the time for a snow ball, nor does she bother grabbing various parts of James's clothing and shoving snow in his face. Instead, the good doctor rolls and with a very large handful of snow and pushes it into James's face.
Imogen seems to be able to fend for herself just fine, alright.
(diego)
he was to busy grining at tristan in victory to react the point where hands lash out pushing tristan into the snow is when the grin fades. a step about to be taken backwards as he is grabbed pulled into that writhing pile in the snow, why hello arnt you nice and warm. oooh shit that cold. oh no not my pants anything but the pants. there too expensive to do this too glasses slide from his face falling into a snow bank not far away he winces my glasses. .(dire)
*The young man pauses with a very clear look of astonishment on his face and his head can'ts to the side*(james)
he should growl and be all fierce and glare and bristle and be the big bad Ahroun that he is
but he?
is just howling in laughter
Imogen suddenly snowplowing his face was the last straw
he can't fight back anymore
he's just laughing too hard"Allright! I give...... oh christ I GIVE!"
somehow forced out through the sputtering sidesplitting stitches
snow down his shirt (not like the wifebeater protected much)
snow down his pants
snow covering his face
snow in his dreads
(yes it is I! the abominable snowgnawer!)
he just stops fighting and takes itafter hanging around with his pack the last few days?
it's damn good to be around people with senses of humor
(no matter how much Imogen denies she owns one)(dell)
"No way man." He shakes his head and eyes Trev for a moment, gathering quite a serious look to his expression. "You have a bad day, man? Fuck it, let's go bowling. Your ex-wife comes in while you're at work and takes all of your shit? Fuck it dude...let's go bowling. Bowling is like...is like...it's like that special place man .... it's just you ... the lane.....and the ball man." He holds a gloved hand out for his lighter, not allowing Trev the opportunity to steal that one. "Dude, like forget the shoes man ... the shoes are like....a minute part of the equation..." Shaking his head he chuckles as the group tumbles into the snow..." That's the best movie dude....you gotta get real high...take a vic...and watch that movie..." Movie? What move? A pause, hands readjust his cap. "...uh....this dude man. He came by and bought some smoke...and he needed a car.....I promote good Karma Trev....if you do nothing else in this fucked up existence kid, take care of your feet and promote good Karma..."(trev)
He stops for a moment...just some dude...the chevelle..what the fuck was dell smoking "First of all i aint even going there with bowling...it aint some spiritual thing, its what fat middle aged men do as a sport when they cant fucking toss a football anymore...not that i like football much anyways..i mean shit, i dont need any fuckin ball bad enough to have a bunch of jock dudes flopping on top of me...but bowling...shit..." he shakes his head....he wasnt going to win this argument, and he knew to pick his battles wisely--not to mention he was already on to the next topic.."dude...i believe in karma.. i mean ya gotta do others good and you get good shit back at ya...but dude that the..chevelle" the word slips out as if he was talking about a God..."i mean man---what if hes bonin his girl on your seats" a laughter escapes his lips.."dude hes gonna let one go on your seats...then what ya gonna do?"(dire)
*He stands there watching the scene and one hand comes up to scrach his head.*(dell)
"Fuck football man. When the truth comes out....you'll see the whole football league man is gonna be filled with homosexuals...you just watch and see." He nods and watches the brawl in the snow. "Bowling man. It's the art of like ...zen dude. He's not going to let one go on my seats dude...." a pause. "You think? Get the fuck out man ..... " He reaches to one side and grabs his cold bottle of Mountain Dew. "....you gotta watch that movie with me man .... it's fuckin' great." Taking a long drink he recaps the bottle and sits it back down. "...he better bring back the Chevelle man ... I got bowling tomorrow..."(tristan)
Even if he could growl and be all big and bad like james - there is no way he possibly could as he? is laughing every bit as hard... right around that grin of Pure. triumph and a look of impressed delight as Imogen manages to deal the final blow to their friend, and he just.. relaxes into the snowbank, hand patting Diego on the shoulder.. comment for both of them.. "Nice move mates... nice move. I'da been a complete gonner without ya..." sputtered through continued laughter as smooth roll and stomach crunch pulls lean pretty (snowcovered) boy to a sitting position, that bottle carefully guarded, glasses grabbed before they scratch too bad.. and completely. un.re.pent.ant. grin offered James. "And I hope you've learned your lesson!"(dire)
*He just stands there looking at them all cackeling and thinks they are under some strange effect and looks around for the cause*(trev)
He glances at him..."what movie dude?" looking right at Dell.."what the fuck you talking bout...dude..." he pauses and smokes the smoke quietly....pondering..thinking.."dude hes letting on go on your seat...bonin his girl right there...nasty..you better wash that thing when he brings it back i mean...gross..I think its lame...bowling..but shit ill come watch, i mean--nothing else is going on in this town"
(imogen)
Grinning, as she untangles herself from the snow she'd gotten herself forced beneath, rolling to her knees. Her hair is always thick, and always waved, and the snow clinging to the tendrils and curls rimming them with white.She points a finger in James's direction as she gets to a half crouch, her other gloved (snow covered hand) running through her hair, shaking some of the flakes loose, "I was goin' t'help you." She accuses as her pointing finger drops as does her other hand, dropping to brush at her jeaned thighs.
(dell)
Blinking slowly, he looks at Trev....it takes a moment for his thoughts to clear and finally he recalls exactly what he was talking about. "Oooooh yeah. That movie dude, that movie with that kid and Orphan Annie's bee bee gun or some shit? You know?" He elbows Trev. "C'mon dude .... 'you're gonna poke your eye out with that thing!'" And it must be noted that by this time, Dell is rolling and laughing, holding his side as he leans against Trev. " Fuck you man, you know the one with the kid and his mom bundles him up like this big stay puff marshmallow man and he falls in the snow and can't get up?" Dell is still laughing, a jolly sound that only pot heads can appreciate. When you grow up, you die a little bit inside. Smoke weed. Stay young. "He's not lettin' one go on my car...."(trev)
He smiles still remotely sconfused for a second, while he tries to follow the pothead rant...and then it clicks "oooh ralphy...yeah..and the bunny suit dude...the fucking bunny suit..your gonna poke out your eye, i knew a guy who had a bee bee gun man....he did poke out his eye, had to wear a fucking pirate patch man....over the eye hole...dude his eye just like fell right out man" he nods...eyes moving back to the open space where a chevelle should sit..."dude whos got the car again?"
(james)
his sides hurt
(they're damn cold, too)
just laying in the snow and chuckling"I have." nodded sagely, finally pulling himself to his feet "Next time I'll make sure you don't have backup."
a brow lifting at Imogen
wait... was that a grin?!"You did." hand held out to help her up, then drag Tris and Deigo from the snow he placed them in "To lose."
winked in tease
he may have worked up a sweat moving
but he's certainly realized the chill factor now
already heading back towards the warmth of the apartment(dire)
*He looks among them all and clears his throat. Voice coming out melodic and liting with it's accent. Not french but tha'ts a part of it. Blue eyes the color of glacier heart ice behold them.* You all ok?(dell)
Wiping tears from his green blood shot eyes with gloved fingers, his laughter slowly subsides. "And that fucking lamp. Remember that sexy leg lamp that looked like some freak of nature?? Dude ... I'd like to have a lamp like one of those. You know when Sari left me..." A pause. Here we go. Sari would be Dell's ex wife. Married at the age of 18, Sari and Dell were in love. Until she met a much richer white collar stock broker. Love left real fucking fast. "You know she took every thing. Even my goddamned 'dogs playing poker' blanket hanging picture thing dude....and my Kelly the cat clock. You know that black cat that fucking cat man. I swear that cat and its moving eyes watched me...." A pause and he sighs, looking around rather blankly. "Dude ... weren't you rollin' one?" Another pause. "That fuckin' dog playing poker picture really made the living room dude...." He takes another drink of the Mountain Dew. "That guy man .... that guy. You know that guy with the fucked up hair? The hell is up with that hair? I think it's like a ....mullet....he borrowed the Chevelle."(tristan)
He? is just cracking up, and in a damn good bit of shock at a full on -grin- from Imogen... he clasps James' hand, drug to his feet, a smooth turn helping pull Diego up as well, offering him back his glasses with a grin...
Dire's comment breaks through, and he nods, still laughing. "Sure thing Dire - just recovering a bit of our childhood - come on in.. we'll get warm and open the bottle Imogen brought." To imogen, he offers said bottle again, and then his arm - ever the gentleman unlike his runaway tribesmate dashing toward the warmth of small apartment - arm offered even though she was gonna help him...(trev)
He stops cold "you let a dude with a MULLET take the Chevelle?" shaking his head..hair falling right back into the blue eyes.."dude...what the fuck were you thinking?" he shakes his head and perches himself on the stoop..pullin out his own sack, and breaking some up inside the baggie, paper in hand, he manages to balance the bagie on one leg while rolling one handed, tonge gliding along the glued paper, and whammo almost perfect, slightly pregnant joint....he looks it over...eyeing it..and shrugs once in appoval.."dude its rolled" amazing isnt it, someone lacking many of the skills needed to do many normal things, could just whip out a joint like lightning...hey some talents were special "Dude, she was a bitch....fuck her mannn you dont need her...she was hot though" he shrugs and tosses the J to Dell(dell)
He takes off his bulky gloves and accepts the smoke gladly. With the nudie amazing magical lighter he fires it up and takes a deep puff....holding his breath for a long moment he exhales the smoke in neat, nifty rings. "Yeah. She was hot. She took the fuckin' dogs playing poker velvet picture man...that's blasphemous dude. She did it just do dig that knife in a little deeper..." Another toke he takes before handing it back to Trev. "It's a goddamned hair cut. A fucked up cut....but you can't judge a man by his hair ... you said you wanted dreds for christ sakes...."(imogen)
She is half way to getting up as James offers her his hand, in a crouching position, but a brief grasp of his hand is leverage, and she gets to her feet.A glance of her shoulder at Dire, before she turns back, taking the offered bottle (but not his arm). Her eyes narrow, quickly checking the bottle for damage, and shaking her head, causing her hair to sway with the motion freeing up the last of the snow. A brief movement of her hand to Tristan. After you, of course.
A brief shake of her shoulders, trying to breath some warmth into her flesh, before she abandons that prospect and simply follows everyone else in the search for a warmer climate.
(trev)
He looks at Dell like he was speaking another language..."dude dreads get you laid man...a mullet, thats fucked up man...i men a mullet can get your ass kicked....i new a dude who had a mullet, he always got kicked around man...i mean shit, cmon..fuck--what is it you want long hair...or short hair.. i mean make up your mind" he shakes his head and watches the lighter as it ignited the joint..."dude the poker picture? she took it? fuck man....thats just---" he shakes his head..."man thats just wrong"(dire)
*He walks with them. They all wet and him nice and dry for once. He doens't quite get it totally but they seemed to be having fun so he smiles and goes along with him. He's in a good mood having just come from Danni's
He asends the steps after them and looks around and sniffs the air before going in himself*(diego)
he takes the offered hand pulling himself to his feet before slipping shades over his face grining ever so slightly from between now messed up hair and crumpled clothe.s (my outfit my beautiful outfit) you are alright and tristan soo cute wet and sodden he just smiles at the 2 others he doesnt know yet "i should go get changed"(dire)
*he gives a some what bemused smile and looks around one last time. Sniffs the air and follows*(trev)
His head tilts..."im like who man?" pondering the words..."ohh the old dude who was on the Tonight show before Leno?" he nods.."naw man im not like him...i didnt even like him.. that envelope thing on the head was dumb..i mean i only saw it in reruns, or on those infomercials at 4 am....but naw man, Lenos cooler...Dude...his chin like protrudes to here man" his hand goes out straight in front of his face..."i mean shit....he had Liv Tyler ont he other night man...she is so fucking hot...dude..whens mullet guy coming back with the Chevelle?" he looks down the street.."man i think hes bonin his girl on your seat"
(james)
he's already back inside
once he's realized the cold - he bailed
not even noticing Dire's arrivalthe door's open
and the apartment is waaaarm
warmer than it should be
even with the heater on high it shouldn't have warmed up this fast
cause they kept the heater off while the door was open to move things in
but the temperature has risen now
(and it might be due to that little unlit yet half burned candle sitting quietly in the corner)by the time they get in
he's sitting on the couch
soaked wifebeater stripped off
attempting to untangle the t-shirt and get it on fast enough
vicious ashed scars showing up over his back and shoulders
eagle's brand on his chest
just...... shiveringthat's when he notices Dire's presence
or at least the... scent.... of him
brow lifting as he glances up
a nod up"Hey Dire."
(dell)
Blink. Blink blink. He takes the smoke when it's passed his way and just stares at Trev as if he grew a third eye right in the middle of his forehead. "You have smoked yourself stupid. You are literally smoking away brain cells dude as ...as we sit here on these steps man. You gotta go to school man. Dude, like Jimmy fuckin' Carter? The former President? The goddamned Ambassador to the world? " Blink blink. "No more smoke for you man ...and you know what, here, just give me all of it to be certain you ain't smokin' no more......confusing Johnny Carson with Jimmy Carter, man.....you are....you are just...." His words trail off as he starts to laugh, and shakes his head. "The Chevelle will be back tonight dude.....Johnny Carson, man you are a trip dude...."
(dire)
*He nods to James and smiles. Would laugh as he's been around for about a half hour now but that's ok. He nods* Hey James. Yall seem to be.. having fun this evening.* he moves out of the way and kinda watches. Hands in the pockets of his jacket.*
(trev)
He thinks for a moment.."oh the penut guy...yeah the dude with the big teeth...yeah i know who you mean" he laughs and takes a step back..."dude thats like wrong man...you cant take my shit, thats like---dudeee" he takes the joint..puff puff pass and glances out to the quiet-now-street...
"dude whens it gonna warm up man...its fucking January...fucking colder then shit "(tristan)
Gestured on by Imogen, he grins at his new neighbor and nods.. "Go right ahead - come join us when you're dry?" Smile hopeful - he's pretty cute wet too, and he's laughing as he slips into his apartment.
It's not big - just an effiency, all one room except the bathroom kinda deal. He slides past Dire (ooooooooh warrrrrrm in here) And he's stripping out of soaking wet t-shirt, head shaking sending water everywhere from his curls (gee. guess who he's related too.) and sweater found and pulled over leanly muscled form. "what brings you this way, Dire?" curious...(Diego)
where the others flood into the little down stairs flat he stops at the door a hand on tristans shoulder to stop him to talk softly to him, "hey if you ever need to like borrow a cup of sugar... or something" is there doubt to what that or something is? "i live upstairs 3c" and then there is an offer to come back down his smile grows wider "i guess i will see you soon then" continues to make his way upstairs.(dire)
*He jerks a thumb* My... * he ponders how to put it. Those blue eyes flickering over the people arrayed int hte room around him the warmpth hitting him like a wave and he slips out of the jacket and holds it. his lithe form graceful almost beyond belife. As if the man had extra joints or no bones or something.
He tilts his head to the door and even as the tattoo above his left brow stands out his eyes flicker that way *My.. Danni lives round here.
(Dell)
"It's supposed to be warm now dude....isn't it? It's January right?" He asks again, taking the smoke and deeply inhaling of it. I love you Mary Jane... "Trev, man...dude...you really gotta get to school...." He laughs and shakes his head, passing it over to his stoop mate. "I'm going to hell dude, I'm so fucked up. You know that guy...that guy that lives over on 9th and Morris...Jewish guy....Schmig...Schmi...something...he calls me today and wants to come buy a bag...but he just...he snorts dude, you know? Like hacks his snot back up in his nose. That's fuckin' sick man. It bothers me. So I told him ... I wasn't working today, I wasn't doing nothing today ... he's like ...'why' I says, well it's fuckin' Hanukkah ain't it? He says to me, no man ..and you ain't Jewish. I says, well fuck you. I can be Jewish if I want, and I say I'm Jewish today and I'm not working....I'm not doing a damn thing...." Laughing he takes another toke when it's offered and passes it back. "He stammered and fell over himself for about ten minutes before he said he'd call back today...I hate that guy man, fuckin' snortin' all the time, that's gross."(imogen)
She steps into the pleasant warmth of the interior of Tristan's new home, pulling off her jacket, and either hanging it up, or draping it across the nearest surface. The next nearest surface serves as a spot to put the bottle of tequila. Gloves removed and she slowly drags pale delicate fingers through her red locks, working out a few of the knots, some of the kinks and pushing the firey out of control mass over her shoulders and behind her ears away from her face.Boots removed, and she enters the apartment, scooping up the bottle once more. She offers in the mutual direction of both Gnawers, holding it by the neck of the bottle. Whoever takes it first and all of that.
(trev)
He shakes his head..."man you are weird...and what the fuck you talking bout i gottta go to school...you see me roll that joint..thats talent man he laughs..."man snorting is better then fucking letting one go on your seats, which is what i think your mullet guy is doing right now..."
he shakes his head.."dude and thats your chevelle" he checks his watch...and looks up the street..."dude i gotta go man....fucking getting late n shit...you gettin yer car back man--cause it aint cool if he fucking steals your wheels man...you just fixed her up...dude are you bowling tomorrow?"(james)
My Danni
that's a tactful way to put it
and the Gnawer just chuckles
scooting over on the couch
finally climbing and crawling and snuggling into his shirt
BDU's are still soaked, but he'll have to make due
those he doesn't have an extra layerstreeeetching to take the bottle from Imogen
that will warm one up"Have I ever mentioned you're a godsend, woman?"
it's cracked open, but handed to Tristan
is his pad, after all(dell)
Dell is zoning, he's hearing Trev, but ... not really hearing him ... blinking he looks at Trev and holds out a hand, pot heads and drunks ... always touching one another. "Dude. I gotta get my league shirt out of the cleaners in the morning.....polish my ball...the Chevelle will be back man ...chill....it's all about karma dude." Slowly he stands, gathering up his Mountain Dew and his gloves. "Be careful on those steps man ... I smoked three J's with some kid and he fell down 'em ... bounced on his head and ass all the way down .... never smoked with that kid again..." A pause as he starts up the stairs, hungry and tired all at once. "Come by tomorrow man ...I shall introduce you to the wonders of Jersey's finest bowling alley..."(tristan)
He's pulled aside for a moment, and leans into that whisper, brows lifting slightly (...or. something...indeed...) as he grins.. "I'll remember that. See ya in a few.." and then he's in the apartment again, chuckling at the thoughtful way Dire says Danny.. He looks around, and well. the glasses aren't put away yet, or even out of the box, so he just grins as that bottle is cracked and offered. He lifts it in toast - James, Imogen, everyone included, and tips it back for a first swig, making a face as he chuckles and hands it back to james. He just flat out grins at Imogen. "A godsend with a wicked sense of humor... take it I'm off Tequilia restriction now?"(diego)
hes down soon enough what did he do run as soon as he was out of sight? probably ask the ones with better sense of hearing they may have noticed the light pitterpat of feet on stairs.... or the clomp back down again before he is once more standing next to the door. a box dropped at his feet . sunglasses gone. duffle coat gone (he was only coming downstairs ankle socks boots not really needed for the decent. a pair of industri jeans those scary ones with splatters of paint on them, and a long sleeved tshirt nice and warm a light blue this time. knocking on the door. he stands there waiting trying to drag fingers through his hair to neaten it up a little bit while juggling his own bottle of tequilla, (seems it is the drink of choice saw imogen with it afterall hey look at that its even got a worm) a handful of shotglasses a salt shaker and oooh is that a lemon.(imogen)
"No, I think that might be the first time you've ever said that to me, James," a quirk of an eyebrow, and finding some sort of suitable sitting space. Be it a box (that does not say fragile) or stairs, or even the floor, that failing.She glances at Tristan, "For now, yeah. Though," A moment's pause as she shifts her weight, to allow a hand to slide into the pocket of her jeans. "I brought precautions this time." The half smile that curls her lips is far too saccharine to be anything but false as she comes out with a small round cylinder, with a screw on top. "Advil," as she offers it to the Gnawer kin.
(trev)
He heads off turning once to comment.."dude i think i knew that guy"
just like johnny carson...or jimmy carter...or whoever...
and up the street he heads...(Dell)
::trudges ..off...to..bed....makes mental note...to kill.....pink::(dire)
*He listens and watches with a smile. Sniffs the air and turns back to watch the interaction.
looking around the place again he turns and those bluse fall on Tristan* So this is your new place?(james)
there's a bit of a smirking chuckle
taking the bottle on his stretch to answer the door
even before the knock sounds
slugging back a good amount
(uh.... did we forget we can't drink, Jamey-boy?)
and handing the bottle back to........ whomever is closest
handle trolling and the door slides open"C'mon in"
easy grin offered to the kid with
-ooooh lordy he came prepared(diego)
warm brown eyes that mach his mocha skin. flow over him that smile growing on youthful face as the 5'5" tall midget slips past the one with dredlocks to make a better study of the other two, the woman and dire. finally resting on the resident kinfolk whos flat they now possess oooh look room got smaller. "thought prehaps you might like a welcome gift my uncle sends me up a bottle every coupla months or so and saw you like it an all " nodding towards the bottle of tequilla now possessed by james "brought some other stuff you might not have yet or at least unpaked yet moving in an all"(dire)
The 6'3"skald looks over. While lanky he's powerful in that gymnist sort of way. The get of fenris tatoo on his face, above his left brow kinda gives away what he is to those in the know*
(tristan)
He... just.. stares at that little bottle, before he's absolutely cracking up... taking the advil and setting it in prime position on the ledge of the window above the sink. "Perfect, Imogen.. thank you."
A grin as hePosted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 20, 2003.01.20.03. - hungover [tristan][north jersey, condos]
(tristan)
Eventually he had made it to the shower... picking his way through decker's mess (christ what a slob) to make use of his own toiletries - he'd discovered last time that finding soap and shampoo is next to impossible. glad he always carries his own. Hoping no one needed the shower anytime soon, he filled the small bathroom with steam, used all the hotwater in some attempt to clear still pounding head. battered jeans were pulled back on, top button left undone so they cling pecariously to his hips, curls wrapped in a towel so as not to get the leather wet when he collapsed on the couch again, and promptly fell asleep (passed out).
And there he remains. sprawled on his back on the couch, towel still mostly under his head, but open to show the spill of those curls in some sort of halo-ish tangled array. On knee propped up and leaning against the back of the couch, the other flat, foot tucked around ankle, arm over his eyes to block the light that had continued to attack his eyes through the lids. And he snores. Not loud - but enough to notice. However - the pretty boy is almost feeling human again.(james)
at some point, in that fog of almost human sleep, the door opened
there's no slam of keys onto the counter, so it can't be Rune
there's no judgemental grunt seeing the Kin on the couch, so it can't be Decker
there's no thump of oversized feet on the plush carpet, so it can't be Luc
there's no incoming fog of dat good ganja, so it's most definitely not Livingston
that leaves one dreadlocked Gnawer making his way into the kitchen
nice and quietone bag stuffed full of Indian take-out boxes settles on the breakfast counter
soon to be followed by a haphazard sprawl of patchwork coat
the plastic rustling of yet another bag settled next to it
next water rushes, hot and steaming into the sink
antibacterial dish soap spread onto the dish scrubby brush thing
not like he really needs it
but it cuts down the itching later as things heal
and he just quietly sets to work washing the dirt and grit out of skin
the sink washing brown and black and crimson as new flesh is found
whatever happened after 'or something' wasn't quite as giving(tristan)
Door opens, and semi silent movements eventually tickle pass the fog of sleep and body reacts.. first, the snoring stops and settles into a deep breath, exhaled slow as fingers spread over lower belly, heralding the beginnings of a stretch, long and slow. It creeps over arm, shoulder, chest, shoulder and arm again until the one over his eyes is stretched over head... in conjunction with the smooth arch of back, lengthening of legs to get that full body good god that feels good because I haven't moved in hours stretch. It's then that eyes cautiously peel open - slow, just in case things still swim, then all the way when it is discovered the world has almost returned to normal. Hands scrub over face, rubbing away sleeps remnants from his eyes as stomach muscles crunch and pull lean body upright, while simultaniously fluid movement allows feet to find the floor.
Nails scratch over belly, hand pushes back unruley curls, gaze searches out the noise and slight (rueful) grin spreads over lips as sleep graveled voice murmurs. "mornin."(james)
"Evenin'"chuckled over the sound of rushing water
dark eyes rather amused glancing back over muscular shoulder
first at the slowly surfacing Kin, then to the setting sun through the curtained window just past
after an inspection (no rite of wounding here) that relentless crash of sound ceases
and the dish scrubber weapon thingie is placed back on it's hook to dry
he's turning to lean back against the lip of the counter
carefully drying off lacerated, busted up knuckles"The hell happened to you last night?"
(tristan)
A wry grin as he glances out at setting sun, followed by chuckle that trails into a groan as he forces body to react and stand, pausing to stretch 6'2" form completely before bare feet shuffle toward the kitchen, fingers scritching against skin just above waist of his jeans again.
"Tequilia." nodded, with another (almost back to full brilliance) boyish grin. "Whole bottle. cept the few swallows I let Imogen have. She's decided I'm not allowed to have tequilia anymore." Chuckled as he opens the fridge, grabs a carten of milk, opens, and drinks straight out of the carten, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he leans against counter and nods to lacerated knuckles. "you?"(james)
that? gets a laugh
a very damned amused laugh".... and when a Fianna decides you can't have anymore to drink...."
he lets it drift off in tease rather than insert the cut
even though he knows Imogen isn't technically Fianna kin anymore
her blood is still damned unmistakable
that's when a smirk curls over his lip
fingers spreading spiderlegs to look at the back of his hand
still very damned amused"Dumpster. There's take-out in the bag if you're hungry."
chin lifting to jut towards the bag that smells of mystic sugars and spices
by the way he still carefully controls himself
by the way he deliberately navigates every movement
oh yeh... that Rage is still wrapped tight around him
no matter how much he blew off last night(tristan)
He nods, his grin almost.. sheepish. "exactly - She was highly amused." which is saying a lot for Imogen some days, isn't it? "I think it was because I lost her phone - and only vaguely remember calling someone. I'm still hoping it wasn't a 900 number." chuckled, he wouldn't mind the cut, and the tease just keeps that grin right where it is,playing about his lips, dancing in dark gaze that sweep instantly toward the glorious bag'o'takout. Long arm reaches, snags, pulls the bag closer to grab random container.. "fuckin' starvin'... don't think I ate yesterday. today. whenever." Chuckled as milk is set aside, fork is grabbed and container opened. Sometimes its perfectly clear who's kin he is - as he digs in without reservation, without pause. James probably won't steal it back because he offered it - but when you get the chance to eat, you eat. Simple really.
A nod, glancing at those hands again.. chuckling slightly. The rage still coiled about him has that knot settled around the base of his own spine - but its better. Mainly because there isn't 4 of them in the same damn room.(james)
metal just has the most satisfying crunch
and it's a lot easier to live with annihilating a dumpster
than it is to take it out on living, breathing flesh that doesn't deserve it"Did'ja hit redial?"
casually glancing over at the Kin
dark brow lifting towards dreadlocks
that quirked grin absolutely unrepentant
and no, he won't steal it back
he grew up fighting for everything he got
and even though he trusts his packmates not to slight him like that?
he ate over half again as much was in the bag before even leaving the little resturaunt(tristan)
He makes a face and shakes his head. "she'd already taken the phone away. found it in the corner of the closet... apparently I'd thrown it there at some point while avoiding the.. ahem. tension."
He doesn't mention the joking of the other kin, making more 900 numbers and making him pay and such. He just continues to inhale the contents of little box..
"Pretty sure the call was to Randal - as he's bout the only other person I know around here - and I sure as hell didn't wanna talk to you all anymore. No offense of course." Boyishly grinned around his fork..(james)
"None taken. You get used to it with a pack structured like ours is. Some days? You just learn to sleep outside."half offered information
half rueful muse
there are days even he can't stand it and just has to get out
talk a walk, sit in the park, abuse a dumpster
he doesn't ask about the other name
none of his business who the Kin calls, really(tristan)
He nods, chuckling.. "Guess so." Though he's not exactly sure how it's structured other then Rune is beta, and james is omega, and he? is kin. And Imogen too who's mated to the moody modi. "Had decker walked in that door? I woulda made it out the glass doors in 0.5 seconds. Was wound up a bit tight." and that? is a bit of an understatement, and said with return of fully brilliant boyish grin. Food and drink having done wonders to restore equalibrium. Empty carten trashed, another grabbed, along with the milk, and he heads back to sit on the couch. This one isn't inhaled nearly as fast as he relaxes a bit more. Feeling more human by the minute now.
He of course wouldn't abuse a dumpster - sparing is one thing, actively messing his hands that make the music that makes his living is a different thing all together. And though it wasn't asked, he offers just the same - because James should know, and he'd find out anyway of course when introduced. "Randal's Family - Gnawer kin - as well." So yeah. it is his business to a small extent..(james)
"Three of six are full moons. Three of six are German. You get used to it. You get used to him, too... something put a lot of hate into that boy, along time ago."soon as Tristan moves to the couch
he's gathering the bag
fridge sucking open to reveal it's little cooling chamber qualities
food placed to wait until the rest of the pack either gets home or wakes up"Kin?"
interest perking
okay, maybe it is his business
glancing over in invitation for more(tristan)
"explains a lot." nodded with a slight chuckle,even admitting. "well there has to be something there with him - else I figure Imogen wouldn't upt up with his shit, yannow? I try to give him the benifit of the doubt.. he's pack, he's her mate, s'cool enough for me. Course - be nice if he gave me the benifit of the doubt too."
Grinned with a shrug. Some people just aren't as apt to do the learn aboutcha first then decide your fate. As spicy indian food washed down with more swallows of that milk - mental note made to get some more to replace it, even though his place should be open to move into today. fingers drag his hair back scritching a bit at the base of his neck before he lets curls fall where they will once more and nods. "yeah - he was there the night that kid almost frenzied in the street. He has the glyph on his jacket. Talked a few times - seems nice enough a kid. Works at o'toolies and some video store..."(james)
"He's a good guy if you can get past his personality and Tribe."it's just.... accomplishing that
it isn't easy, by any means
there've been times the Gnawer has had his doubts"She has. I'm.... wwwooorking on it." chuckled "Damn fine Warrior even if he lets that get in the way of his thought process sometimes."
a comment or a warning
probably both wrapped into one
he's felt the brunt of Decker's strength
there's still a mess of broken trees out in the Barrens from the last time the two of them got into it
inside of his lower lip chewed in a moment's frown of thought"Don't even remember him." sheepishly admitted "Was quite focused on Danny. Should probably look him up sometime, then, if he's family...."
it drifts off
and dark eyes study the the other
yes, that's correct
it's a Garou Warrior asking a mere Kin his opinion
wondering exactly what Tristan's thoughts on Randal are
times are hard and family's family
but it never hurts to be too cautious
especially with what's been happening to kin lately(tristan)
"Well, long as he doesn't touch the violin - I can ignore most anything else." Even broken trees, or broken bones, what have you. and fortunately, he'll be moving the violin to a safer place by the end of the day so the bitchin about 'caterwalin' won't be so often. Comment and warning taken as offered with a nod as second box is scraped clean, standing and heading to the kitchen to set fork in sink, and toss the box, few swallows finds empty milk carten joining the indian box as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"S'understandable. You got him calmed down rather quickly because you were focused. Was glad to see him ok - even if I was standing by ready to trip him if he ran again."
Chuckled, and some niggling memory in the depths of alcohol fog.. "porn!" slips before its caught back and boy if that grin isn't sheepish... "some kid tried to rent some - it was Randal I called... cuz he offered to deliver some." chuckled as he rubs the light fuzz of unshaven chin - must take care of that before heading out, even if it's not a lot. boy would take years to grow a beard on that babyface - and he looks up to meet that dark-eyed study.. "Like I said, only talked to him a couple times, but gonna get together and play - he plays bass - soon as I'm in my own place. He's street, seems to be ok to me.. only thing that gives me pause - and reason he don't know where the condo is, and wasn't given the phone number here as because I've heard rumours about O'toolies.. Nothing specific of course, but word on the street is it's not the best place in the world to be. A job's a job though - and it may simply be that to him." A slight shrug. Family's family, yes.. but always important to be careful. "figured when we got together next you could make a well timed visit and form your own opinions." Because yeah... he's only kin - though the asking of his own is appreciated, and shown in his grin. Trust is a huge thing - and to be offered it.. well, means a lot.(james)
"Imogen cleans up after us... a lot.... but I didn't want to have to give her a reason to cover my ass more than necessary."and a brow lifts at the slip
unable to stop his own grin
Well then.the kid with the corkscrew curls and baby face
maybe a little peachfuzz five o'clock shadows
clean and glowing and looking human again
right next to the man with the junglevine dreadlocks and haunted eyes
scruffy and dirty and bloodsplattered
... he was never human to begin with but pulls it off nicely
both in the middle of the sleek GlassWalker's sleek kitchen
ain't that the sight"O'Tolley's, huh? Heard some shit about that, too, never been able to prove anything, though. I'll keep that in mind."
(tristan)
"understandable.. hey - did you know she plays guitar?" because Rune didn't, and he's been teasing her about dragging her off to play on a streetcorner. "invited her to jam with us sometime, if your interested and all."
And he cannot help that slight coloring blush as James' brow lifts instantly, and he just.. er. yeah. looks at bare feet on pristine floor. Well then. indeed. His grin unrepentant though as he nods, and lean shoulders lift in slight shrug. "Yeah - figured I'd call him soon as I got a phone hooked up at my place, get to know him a bit more before fully forming an opinion and all. We both know you gotta be where the money is, even if its just a few bucks an hour."(james)
dreads shift across his shoulders
chin dropping in a nod"Yeh, seen the case at her place a few times. Never asked her to play..... might actually get her to loosen up."
teased, of course
while he's been rewarded with the good Doctor's patented paint peeling glares more than once
he's also more than aware of the humor that hides behind the cold British exterior
he has even... get this.... seen her smilebut the teasing doesn't stop there
muscle through his bicep shifts
elbow edging against Tristan's
then nudging in playful shove
(point. and. laugh.)
oh yea, he saw that blush"Can help you track down some furniture, if you want. Second hand stores around here don't close until late..... might as well have it ready if you're moving in tomorrow."
he's kept fairly abreast of what's going on with the apartment
and since the Kin slept through today (which was a holiday anyway)
pretty certain to be doing any moving tomorrow
but might as well be ready for it, hm?"But I.... definitely... need a shower first."
(and need to fade there, have to get back to the hospital for the staff meeting)
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 18, 2003.01.18.03. - full.fuckin.moon. [rune-imogen-tristan-cole-dire][north jersey, condos]
to be posted, on the other computer
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 16, 2003.01.16.03. - quiet [rune][north jersey]
(james)
the condo's dark
after Tristan passed out on the couch during a game of CounterStrike
the Gnawer moved out onto the balcony
still feeling a little guilty for laying the kid out
he didn't want to keep playing the game
even if he's sure it wouldn't disturb the kin anwyayso he's out on the balcony
boots crossed on the ballustrade
long legs stretching between the chair and sculpted cement
slouched down in the patio chair
aaaaallll the way until the base of his skull rests against the top of the backrest
dreads are in some lazy disarray
spread out across his shoulders and chest
couple probably hanging over the back of the chair
dark eyes half closed
absently blowing coils of smoke into the night air(rune)
The condo's dark when she comes home, another stranger passed out on her couch. It's not an unusual occurence, not in the least. Rune tosses her keys on the counter and shakes some few snowflakes out of her hair, then bends to study him.Still breathing. Always a good sign.
From living room to kitchen - not yet bothering to shed her coat, gloves and scarf - where she stops to grab a beer (should make it a fucking hot toddy. Of course, she's not sure how to make one of those.), from kitchen to balcony, cigarettes in hand, following the familiar pull of pack and -
pack and -
pack and -
him.The glass doors hiss quietly on their track - open, closed - and the Glass Walker sliiiides on out, flipping her fur collar up against the sudden blast of wind. Sharp and clear, the scents in a winter night, carrying farther than they would on humid air. Sharp and clean, her particular scents, soon cut through by the sudden ashen assault of another cigarette (lit with another hiss, different and cadence and quality than the long, low protest of the opening doors).
She's behind him, in the narrow space between the patio chair and the brick wall, body fitted to an easy, slouching curve. She's behind him, and there's no one else around, and so her free hand finds his hair, crawls through the spilling dreadlocks. Then her shadow falls across him - her shadows, myriad and diffuse from all the many faint sources of ambient light - as she bends to brush chill lips across his temple. "Fucking cold out here." she murmurs against his skin, breath spilling warm across his flesh. "Good night?"
(james)
he didn't have to watch the parking lot to know she was home
beyond the purr of the Beemer's engine shutting down
beyond the harsh snap of heels battering the sidewalk in bold stride
beyond the sound of the door opening, keys clattering, fridge relinquishing its contents
he can feel her coming home, out onto the balconypack
and a slow smile creeps across his lips
(lower still split and swollen from the hit)
ankles rotate in his boots
weight shifting backwards in the chair
lifting the two front legs off the ground
and leaning back into herjaw rising as he presses back into the crawling touch
cheek curving from the smile that begins from soft kiss
and one arm lifts, reaching back to snake around her waist"That's Tristan, inside, my Kin."
barely a murmur laced with smoke
long and low and husked
he's been sitting out here for awhile now
all tucked warmly in layers and the trench"Had some fun at the studio."
which would explain the split lip and the bruised Kin
(rune)
"That explains it then." The response, quiet in the quiet dark. Impossibly so. It's snowing, and the world is hushed and white. The complex is dark except for the everpresent haze of security lights, and the roadsounds are dampened by the slow-falling flakes. "This." His jaw rises, her hand snakes down across from brow to cheek, cheek to jaw, jaw to split and bloodied mouth, tracing the curve of mouth, tentative only around the wound. "And him."He pushes the chair back and into her. She straightens, then, shoulders pressed against the wall bracing for leverage, and pulls him back even farther, until the chair is almost fully reclined, balanced against her strong thighs and he's looking straight up at her. She looks right back down at him, inky hair spilling across her cheek, fuck-me-red mouth curved into a rare and familiar half-smile.
Some semblance of perfect balance achieved, she lifts her cigarette to her mouth. Inhales. Blows smoke way up into the nuclear orange sky and favors him with a sly, sliding look. "I knew I didn't give you that one." Her left hand has not left his face, fingers splayed beneath his jaw, thumb an exploratory pressure against his mouth. "I could give you another to match it, though."
(james)
there's a soft laugh
thick, rising up from his chest
the implicit trust as she leans him back
unable to help the grin at the tentative trace
there's a part of him that wants to playfully bite at her fingers
but the majority of him revels in the exploring caress
(how rare this is)that's about when deep umber eyes, the color of rich earth, open fully
looking up at her
looking past the cling of leather
looking past the bulk of heavy coat
looking past the planes and swells it covers
right up to the strong line of delicate jaw
and that red, red, red..... smile"Nope, this one wasn't you at all."
sly, perhaps challenging
how easily he accepts the marks she puts on him
(how much a part of him craves that possession)
navigating a drag off his smoke to not get ashes on her fingers
then a slow exhale past that lingering thumb
allowing the smoke to crawl up her form
mixed in with the moist fog of breath
the part of lips forming into a slow, slow smile"I..... wouldn't mind a matching set."
(rune)
"No?" Arch, playful, the word, perfectly accompanied by the knowing look cast down from beneath lowered lashes. Her chin is held high, and the planes of her face are nothing short of haughty, leavened only by the sly grace of her widening smile. "What if I wanted to see them in triplicate, hmmm?"The lean form ripples with movement, wave-like, beginning somewhere in the hips and tracing a lingering arc through her figure. It's just enough to unsettle the chair, just enough to give him the brief sensation of unbalance, free-fall, before she catches the lip of the patio chair with her hand, cigarette curled so as not to sizzle against his dreadlocks, and settles him back against her.
"We have company, though." The faintest gesture of her head, chin lifting in the direction of the condominium behind them. Her thumb grazes the broken flesh of his mouth, presses. Releases. And her voice comes from someplace low - quiet now, in answering challenge - as she finds his gaze again. "You'd have to be very, very quiet." There's a pause, a beat, three. She lifts her cigarette to her mouth once more, and indulges in a long, poisoned breath, then exhales it to the night. Lower still, her voice. Patently wicked, her curling smile. "You'd have to keep me quiet, too."
(james)
"Then I?"low, so very low
maybe it's not really spoken
maybe it's something they just know"Would have to give you anything you wanted."
it maybe spoken playfully now
but they both just know
he would always give her anything she wanted
anything she cared to ask for
the severity of the stated offer allowed to drift away like the pluming smoke
and the flailing Gnawerarm around her waist cinching down to keep his balance
even if he knows she'd catch him
it's all in their little game
then the arm uncoils from it's perch
fingers trailing up her flank
then wrapping in the turned up collar
bicep contract to slowly. pull. her. down.
knowing how he can take advantage of her supple curves
as she folds over him
his weight shifts foward
wicked smile matched inverted against wicked smile
softly hissing against her lips"Think I can find something to put in your mouth to keep you quiet."
(rune)
The cigarette falls from her hand, hot embers hissing a susserant sigh as they die in the wet accumulation of snow on concrete. The sound is matched and overtaken by the hissing exhale of her breath, which spills hot between their wicked smiles, across his broken mouth. Dark hair spills down, the blunt-cut ends tickling soft against his cheek, counterpoint to the catch and grab of flat enamel - brief, hard - upon his broken lip."I don't know about that. You might be getting overconfident. You know - " His lower lip released, though her mouth lingers, parted, a fraction of a inch above his, curved into a knowing challenge of a grin. " - how you make me scream."
His weight shifts forward, and she pushes him the last few degrees of the lowering angle, until all four legs of the abused chair are settled against the concrete patio. Contact is not broken, though, for her body follows the motion with serpentine, implicit grace: shoulders rising as the chairback rises, as he body rises, the long low slung line of her back lifting into into only a crescent curve. His hand is still folded in the lustrous black fur lining her collar, and now her own hand finds purchase in the rough patchwork trench, dragging him upward as he finds his feet. Some smooth swivel of hip and thigh sends the chair clattering to the side, so that there is nothing between them - nothing but a brief draught of cold air, darkspace, heavy with gravity, magnetic, charged, defined by the length of his strong arm, confined by the length of her own.
Show me.
The words are not spoken. They're not even thought. They exchange is physical, material, spun across the space between them, communicated by the fierce grip of her hand (knuckles whitening from the strain) and the challenge of her lifting jaw.
She is stalking backward. He is stalking forward. They are animals beneath the nuclear orange sky. Somehow she collides with the sliding door. Somehow (the flail of her free hand, behind her) she manages to get it open. And still: she is stalking backward. He is stalking forward, into the quiet, humid dark, silent now, by for the slow, deliberate pacing of their breathing. Silent. They are animals. Such fucking wicked animals.
Now.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 15, 2003.01.15.03. - red glove whitelight! [tristan-decker] *fog[north jersey]
(james)
he's been sitting here for about an hour now
the tall, dreadlocked raggedy man
half the plume of fog before him is breath
the other Camel smokenasty habit you've picked up there, Jamey boy
but he's just watching the traffic roll on by
all the little people going home from all their little jobs
he played for awhile earlier, upped the saved cash for the trip
though after awhile he stopped
too much shit on his mind
so now?
he's just watching traffic
smoking
thinking(tristan)
Speaking of nasty habits - seems our prettyboy musician has picked one up too. Or at very least, is being dropped off by one.Old beat up pickup truck pulls to the curb, not too far away from James. Hard to tell who is driving - anything about them at all, hidden in the darkness between lights, hidden by the brim of a pulled low cowboy hat. Yes indeed - hard to tell at all.
Hard to miss the goodbye though - even if one isn't sure who it is. It's almost more of a "hello - we ain't goin no where unless its back to that hotel" moment then the goodbye it truly is - but none the less, the prettyboy musician steps from the passenger side door, and smacks it shut behind him with an oh so wickedly satiated grin. A slap of hand on hood, a little wave, a heft of the violin case in hand, and he steps up to the sidewalk, adjusting his coat with a roll of his shoulders, and starting... that way.(james)
the slam of the cardoor gets his attention more than anything else
and there's a slow glance of deep umber eyes down the way
and maybe a little bit of an amused grin
hard to miss that goodbye indeed
he's quiet for a spell, waiting for the boy to get closer to where he's crouched up against the wall"Your momma know you're kissin' on folks that way?"
(tristan)
Easy ground eating strides of a kid used to making way across concrete jungle in relaxed (styyyyle) hurry, he doesn't see the crouched form until he speaks, then dark gaze snaps to raggedy man and grin turns sly, then slightly sheepish as fingers pull from pocket to rub under lower lip gently (swollen slightly - been quite a few kisses like that the past few hours) then slides under chin and around back of his neck.. "what she don't know won't hurt her, right?"
Easy going grin as hand tucks back into his pocket and he stops in front of James.. nodding to the Camel. "Hell - kissin like that almost makes me wanna bum a smoke." Wink, turn and back placed against the wall, ankles crossing as he just... grins.(james)
that?
gets a laugh
a full on, hearty laugh
dreads skip across his shoulders as head shakes"A kiss like that would make anyone want a smoke."
the pack is dug from a pocket and held up in offer
"I'd ask how you were, but I think it's redundant."
(tristan)
That boyish grin just rakes across his features, shines in his eyes as gaze flickers to where that beat up truck disappeared. Shake of his head sends unruly mass of curls in shivering disarray only to be pushed back again before he grabs the pack (what the hell) and taps out a camel, props it between his lips and hands the pack back while he searches his pockets for a light. A moment, two, and the pink (pink!) bic is found, flicked, and flame set to smoke before bic is tucked away. Inhale. exhale, chuckling grin. "thanks man. And yes. Quite redundant."
Languid stretch of aching muscle, belly crunched to set violin case between his foot and James' crouched form (now there's trust for you. but he's family). "So I guess we'll have to talk about how you are..." A wink, and he straightens back up once more.(james)
"Tired." chuckled, softly "And sadly not for the same reason you should be. Spent all night up with that kid then with Imogen at the library."a brow lifts
and he looks up past the curtain of dreads to the Kin
flicking what's left of his burnt out Camel towards the gutter"Which, oddly, brings me back to why I was looking for you."
(tristan)
Ah, he just grins. That whole perma-grin thing going on and all, and nods. "Oddly, I'm not tired. Easily could go for another round or four." oh yes, the libido of the young man in perpetual rutt. Gaze slides down over James, but he cuts short the rest of the tease that normally would follow - not too sure James is up for that kinda teasin just yet, and well. They hardly know each other... (did he even get his companions name? number? did they talk? noooooo tellin.)
A pause at the last, and brow lifts as he meets that curtained gaze.. "Lookin for me, hm? Do tell..."(james)
"Then it looks like you let'm get away a little too early."smirked, he can tease with the best of them
he did grow up on the streets, after all
that permagrin is infectious
it gets his tension to slide away
easy smile on his face
if for nothing more than having family around
just watching the traffic roll on by"Ever heard of something called Rabishu?"
(tristan)
full lips slide into playful pout. "They had to work." And yes. he says it that way on purpose. The slide away of tension is noticed (and our pretty boy is soooo relaxed) and he slides down to crouch next to James (family) and join in the traffic watching detail.
Another inhale brings smoke to ashes, and its stamped under toe of boot, butt picked up and tucked into his pocket before arms drape over knees, hands clasped lightly. "Sounds like something outa some horror film, actually - freakish demon or Angel or the like.. but other then that, nope."(james)
he kept it vague for a reason, too
he's not about to make assumptions
or condemn for anything, either
and there's a slow, thoughtful, nod"About it, really. Babylonian. Some nutcase round these parts is killing homeless in order to try to raise said Angel/Demon. Imogen thought it important enough to bring up to me, then spread the word to any I knew that were on the street."
(tristan)
Course, he coulda meant they simply plural, but then he should be more tired. maybe. maybe not. There's no condemnation here - to him or from him. He's been out there a while and knows when you find arms that appeal to you - no matter who they are attached too - you take the comfort when its offered, while you have the chance.
But the nod is mirrored, and brow creeps upwards. "Lovely. I'll be sure to pass it along to those that should know as well. Don't know many around these parts yet, but will spread the word. "(james)
"Ain't it?"smirked
he's not happy about what he found out in the library
it's what's kept him awake since
tense and on the street
he tried to work it off
even with the easy smile
it didn't really work
there's a steady seeth working just under his skin"If you can, stay off the street after dark, that seems to be when it's happening. They're beaten and words carved onto their chest. I'm sure there's something more that makes it into a ritual. They've all been male, too."
and considering what Tristan just got dropped off from... well...
(tristan)
That. gets a pause. And then a low whistle "well fuuuuuuck me."
Not exactly an invitation there, either.. hand trags through curls only to have them fall in disarray again, his head shaking slightly. And yes - glance in the direction he came from before it slides to the front again. Tension creeps up along his spine - but slowly, and not quite noticable, not yet anyway.
"moneymakin's best around dinner time - will make sure to be on a lighted corner until it stops, though." All he can promise really, as he's gotta make the dough - specially if he wants a cheap hotel room instead of not so comfortable box in an alley. Not that he hasn't before - but he sure won't for a while.
Another slight nod.. "I'll keep my ears open too - see what people are saying. Keep ya'll updated on anything I hear and shit, of course."(james)
there's that tight smile again
and instead of the pack of Camels
this time he pulls out a slip of paper
and the Gnawer stands and holds it out"Gave you the number to the condo last time, this is my Beta's cell. Her name's Rune. Use it in emergency, she can get a hold of me faster than anything. There's some shit going down even I don't understand, but it's some seriously wicked mojo that's probably bigger than any of us think." he really didn't want to admit that, but he's being brutally honest with the Kin "It's been down in Batsto, and it's showing up here. It's what has us running down south."
there's a sigh
and he looks off down the street
then back again
remembering Tristan's help the other night"You know how to box or anything?"
(tristna)
He nods, and takes that piece of paper, glancing at it before flipping open his violin case and setting it inside, closing the instrument away again and flicking lock closed. "appreciate it. Heard some rumours floating around about shit in Batsto.. but no specifics." He understands the honesty - and he'd rather have that brutally, then be unprepared for equally brutal and far more fatal beat and carve going around.
He stands, with a slight stretch (and be honest, slight grin at the ache in thigh muscles) before he chuckles. "More street brawl then anything else, but guess it could be called Boxing.....if you stretch the definition a bit."(james)
there's a slight roll of muscular shoulders in a shrug
and maybe a nod of satisfaction"Religious revival is the best way to sum it up. But something's blinding kin in the vestige of Gaia. I don't know much about the killings, or how they're happening, but I wanted to make sure you could defend yourself. Got any weapons?"
(tristan)
A nod as he takes that in. Blinding - not good. But then he chuckles softly. "never leave home without them." A glance at the street, before he picks up his violin case, and turns the back edge toward James. Rap of knuckles gives a distinctly metalic ring, before he turns it back around. Reinforced case, with beloved instrument padded carefully and well inside. Added murmur. "Blades here and there as well. but crack a guy in the melon with that and he ain't getting up for a while."(james)
"Oh good."grinned
that's one less worry, now
his voice is soft"Nice to have family around again, Tristan, just wanted to make sure you stuck around."
(tristan)
He grins and nods. "Custom job from a friend in kentucky. His little eyes lit up when I told him what I wanted, and he worked extra hard on it." He looks up to catch that gaze, the soft smile, the grin.. and he nods. "Ain't plannin on going anywhere for a while yet. Nice to be considered family again too. Been on the road a loooooooooong time."(james)
"Me too." there's a wry grin at that
then he's silent for a few moments"Guess I'm gonna get to the studio, now that I found you."
(tristan)
He chuckles, softly, and nods. Mutual understanding by those who have been there, who know the ways better then most, who avoid going home longer then some. Softly "Gonna try and get enough for a place more substantial then the by the hour hotel down the way soon... then go and visit Moma Grace - room enough for two if you like, once things die down and shit... I know she'd love to see ya. She remembers every one of us who have ever crossed her doorstep."
He chuckles, fondly, before that silence draws on easily enough.. and then... brows lift slightly.. "Studio?"(james)
"I can see if I can pull some strings, if you want."softly offered "I've been crashing at Rune's for awhile now, but she got an apartment for the pack, might be able to help out if you're looking for a place."that's when the grin rakes sly
"Yeh, work on the bags or something.... gotta burn off the Rage somehow."
(tristan)
He's a little startled at the offer.. but he nods, smile appreciative.. "I'd appreciate that - least until I can get my own, or they catch the nutjob." And brows lit at that sly grin.. "Ah of course - want a sparring partner? I've got that east side brawling style that could use a bit of refinement, I'm sure..." though its clear the option to say 'not tonight thanks' is clearly open.(james)
the easy grin is back
maybe a bit amused at the surprise"Sure.... it's about a mile walk. And I'll talk to Rune and see what she can do for the time being. C'mon."
he nods towards the North
hands slipping into the pockets of his trench
rebar sling picked up from where it rested against the wall
metal clinking as it's slipped onto his shoulder
and he's leading the way towards the studio(tristan)
He returns that grin, and roll of shoulders slide his coat back into place before easy step pulls him into stride with his friend. Hand switch puts violin into oppisite hand, free hand slides into pocket, and he just follows that lead, admitting. "And truth be told - neeeeeeeeed to stretch a bit or I won't be able to move tomorrow." oh and that grin slides wicked, don't it?(james)
that gets another laugh
just bursting out of the Gnawer"So you think another workout is going to help?"
he doesn't seem to be paying the most attention to where they're going
but he knows the way to the studio like the back of his hand
strolling along the street in that easy ground devouring stride
twenty minutes later they're arriving at some little dive of a gym
the windows are dirty and the place should be condemned
the door opens into an alley and not the front road
and it damn well seems like home to Jamesthere's an kind grin to the geezer behind the counter
couple bucks and brand new pack of Camels slapped down cause he's not a member
some mumbled and wheezed phrase in return
the tenant doesn't even look up from the staticky black and white tv
but as late as it is? the place inside is empty
few bags scattered around
weight set here and there
ropes and gloves hung on the wall
and two raised up boxing ringshe heads straight to the back ring
sling and trench and sweatshirt and t-shirt dumped onto the nearby bench
leaves him in those ragged BDUs a more gray than white wifebeater
edges of ashed scars creeping up onto his shoulders from beneath fabric
long strips of fabric pulled out from yet another pocket of the trench
weight slides down onto the bolted slats
elbows resting on his knees
slowly beginning to wrap his hands"You need any gear?"
(tristan)
Which brins an answering grin from the kin - just shining free. "Never know till we try, hm? Sides.. all the experts say that you know, changing your work out styles is good for building strength. And if I catch another date with that one? I'm gonna neeeeed my strength."
Wiggles brows, and follows that easy ground eating stride and matches it with each step of his own. Comfortable. Easy. Family.
He watches the exchange between the geezer and James, and nods a hello to the man who doesn't even look up, following back to the ring. Been a long time since he's been in a place like thiss too, and acrid scent of sweat and blood tangles in nostrils and pulls another grin from his lips. Violin case is set down carefully, and coat slipped off, dropped to cover it, and flannel soon following, leaving him in a surprisingly clean t-shirt. Borrowed it from his.. ride... and all. Jeans aren't in much better shape then those battered BDU's of his companion, and t-shirt covers the scars he may have. He nods, chuckling. "Didn't quite come prepared this time, so yeah."(james)
hands open and close and flex in the linen wraps
not too tight, not too loose - perfect
then the Gnawer stands to streeeeetch out the muscles in his back
walking over to a locker along the wall
the lock spins
rusty metal creaks open
and a part of the opening must be his holding it on the hingesone set of wraps
one set of gloves
padded head guard with mouthpiece
each tossed back in turn to the Kin"Don't worry..... headguard's mine."
just to know it's in better shape than the rest of the joint
he just grabs another set of gloves
and a bandana used to tie back the heavy dreads(tristan)
He doesn't watch taht stretch. Really. Honest. (who's he kidding?) and he grins as things are tossed and caught easily, settling to sit and wrap up his hands. quickly, efficiently. It's been a while, yes - but he's been in a place like this before.
Flex of fingers, and headguard taken. brow lifts and he studies the gnawer... and you know what? he ain't no fool. Headguard goes on, beause if he misses pulling back a punch, well... it'll hurt like a bitch.
Gloves follow wrapping, and experimental swing taken, quick onetwo, and he nods, hitting his gloves together and rolling his shoulders, his neck.. "float like a buttahfly, sting like a bee..." said through easy grin.(james)
yes, he gave the headguard to the kin for a reason
just in case
he doesn't want to knock him out
or knock teeth out
or anything like that
he'll feel bad enough for bruising him
(but he did offer)
strapping the gloves on good and tighta low, growling chuckle as he climbs up into the ring
reaching out to tap the Kin's gloves with his own
rogue grin raking across his lips
a lot easier without a mouthguard clenched in"Cry in the studio, win on the battlefield."
winked before he gets into a stance
he'll let Tristan throw first(tristan)
He chuckles, stepping into the ring, making sure that mouthguard is in place, firmly... and hell - his form is already bruised a bit (check out the back of his neck, hm? marked.) but he did offer.
Though he'll appreciate keeping his teeth, thank you.
Proper stance taken, and feet move in slight shuffle, watching the way the Gnawer moves, taking his time before taking that first swing - it may be his only chance for a clean one, and he knows it..
a few moments, and then indeed, the throws that first right.. and the match is on.(james)
there's other animals that the pack has been compared to
Decker's a bull
Luc's a stag
Rune's a fucking seeeeerpent
James? has something rather feline about him
smooth and supple
and there's something of a sly grin still on his lipsright hook has him feinting to the side
left glove reaching out to guide the glove on past
and his right connects solidly with jaw(tristan)
Solidly connects.
Oh this is gonna hurt.
He shakes his head a little, chuckling, and nodding as glove lifts to make sure headguard is still straight (becuse he..er. never mind.) and this time, he's watching a bit more closely and when he swings again, he's watching for return catlike strike. his own grin playing over lips around that guard.(james)
the kid's fast
and he learns quick
the Gnawer goes down to avoid the strike
but the glove connects anyway
grazing into his cheek for a not quite complete hit
that's about when there's a left jab straight into Tristan's gut(tristan)
He is fast, and he's watching, learning with every move, and incorporating it into his own, though the gut shot gets a whooooosh of air ended by a little grunt (hours. hours. of play. earlier.) but he flows into the movement, his own left instead of going to cover his belly (which he wants too) it lifts, angles, and connects with jaw - reflexive move guided just enough to swing proper, if a little weaker then it would have been normally...(james)
a little weaker
but well aimed enough
it causes the Full Moon to step back a bit
not from the pain of impact
it takes a lot more than that
it's just the sudden filling of his vision with yellow glovethat's startling, man
which then connects with jaw
and it's instinct
he doesn't mean to whomp back on him
but that's a lightning fast hit that rockets back at the Kin(imogen)
Tristan and James duke it out, blow for blow. Kin versus Garou. Someone might draw conclusions from that. Metaphors and other such things. Little guy versus big guy (my money's on the little guy...)However, they are mostly alone in their poised brawl, and a block down, Imogen steps into the the fourteenth (it's really the thirteenth, they never have a thirteenth floor, as if naming it "fourteenth" somehow makes it more lucky) floor hallway of an apartment building. They always try so hard to keep business like her's quiet. The landlords prefer it that way. So do the inhabitants of such buildings.
They'd just rather .not. know.
So perhaps as she ducks beneath the yellow "do not cross" the hallway is basically empty. Perhaps her boots are hollow in a nearly silent space, as she walks toward the elevator, and presses the button. And perhaps, finally, as she enters the elevator, tapping the ground floor, she is alone.
It's not a warm building, the heat is turned as low as it could be, so her shoulders hunch slightly as she waits for the elevator doors to close, weight shifting from booted foot to booted foot.
(tristan)
It'd take a lot more then that, he knows, and feels small victory that he gets the Warrior to step back. We'll take a point for effort, thanks.
And as he's stepping back, making sure his balance is maintained (abs. ache.) all the boy sees is a blur.
God. damn. thats. fast.
And by the time he sees it, arms are caught mid upward movement not even close enough to have a hope of deflecting the whindrush that follows that glove with connects. solid.
sending the kin stumbling back - thankfully against the ropes else he fall from three punches and embarass himself.(james)
there's a half step to follow as the kin stumbles
it's aggressive instinct
knock down, drag out, beat into. a. pulp.
it's how he earned his deed name anyway
there's a dark flare in darker eyes
the beginnings of a snarl on his lipsbut he stops after that half step
visably shaking the Rage back down with a roll of muscled shoulders
so he moves back to the middle of the ring
letting Tristan pull himself off the ropes(tristan)
Give the boy credit - at least a little. He doesn't flinch (though by god that snarl and flare is unsetting as rage twists through him and cinches tight at the small of his back and hands are up and protecting - just in case.
It's instinct. He understands that.
He pulls himself off the ropes and moves his jaw a bit (ow.) before making sure that he's kinda in one piece, nudge the headguard up, and yes boys and girls.
Steps back to the middle of the ring.
If he's lucky? James will at least carry him to a safe place to sleep it off after.
shoulders roll, and he moves again, wary, searching for an opening (the boy. gives. none.) determined to get one decent hit in tonight. feint with the right, and the left swings in vicious roundhouse. He doesn't hold back. He knows it'll take a lot more then he has to even phase the FullMoon.(james)
he gives Tristan time
to either step back into the middle of the ring
or call he's had enough of a workout
and give the boy credit he does
not many kin would step back up towards a FullMoon
even one that was taking it easy on 'emblood splatters on the matts as lip splits on teeth
shoulder drops and he moves with the momentum of the blow
then the motion reverses itselfboots plant
(he doesn't step into it)
thighs tense
(he doesn't throw his weight into it)
hips rotate
(he doesn't lunge at the poor kin)
flank stretches
(he doesn't even close his fist completely in the glove)
right arm extends
(he doesn't even properly aim)
and WHAM(tristan)
Body rotates w force of his punch and as he's pulling back the motion of his sparring partner (family) is reversed and it's like the world goes into sudden.
slow.
motion.
He can see it coming.
He can feel it coming.
Arms come up in some effort to deflect and for half a moment he has to pray to gaia and all that's holy (and momma grace too) that James holds back...
And in that one second before the flash, he's starting to pull back... and then... then?
WHAM
Head is rocked to the side by the force of the blow, arms flail backwards as if some windmill effet with stop body from falling.
It doesn't.
he hits the mat with body parts in rapid succession. Foot (stumble) ass (jar) elbow (slam) shoulder (crash) head (ow.)
And the slow motion crawls to sudden stop as eyes close... and breath is shallow as he spits mouthguard out with a groan.(james)
WHAM
..... shit.he can't help but cringe as the Kin hits the mat
even with the blood dripping down his chin
the Gnawer looks positively sheepish
(hey, he offered Jamey boy)
falling into a crouch beside Tristan
dreads falling over his shoulder as if to reach out between them"Hey...." touching shoulder with the glove "Y'allright?"
(tristan)
Even with the mouthguard, he spits blood as well. (ow.) and it's followed by drunken chuckle as he cracks an eye to look up at james (ow.) and mutter... "dude. get the plates off that truck for me, willya?"
gloves find the mat, and he's pushing himself up with a groan... (and who thought working out after the hours of you know.. working out (nudgenudgewinkwink) before hand was a good idea?)
"Christ. gladyaheldback."
else he wouldn't have woken up yet.(james)
he's still looking sheepish
common, a kin versus a full moon
that's just not fair
even if the kin offered
laughing a bit himself"Glad Rune gave permission for you to stay at the condo tonight."... uh... when did he talk to her? reaching out with a glove to tilt Tristan's head up, glancing at his pupils to see if they're uneven "Wouldn't let you go out onto the street after a hit like that. Any bright lights or just red glove?"
(decker)
Move like a butterfly. Sting like a bee.Not quite, but the pair up there weren't half bad, for hoods with no formal training. Not that Decker would be able to tell much. All the good fights were on HBO, and he never got HBO in his trailer.
Decker felt the dreadlocked (who the fuck boxes with dreads? geez...) one from blocks away; might be he smelled the other the minute he got in the door. It took a cigarette bribe for George to let James in. Decker wasn't gonna waste that ticket. "With them," he tells George (who looks up, for once, wide-eyed). When the stare stays on him, deer in headlights-style, Decker kindly raises a hand to diaphragm level and jabs a finger at the two in the ring to steer the man's eyes in the right direction. "Mind if I visit 'em?"
No? Didn't think so. The rageladen (gibbous. moon. waxing) thug falls away a step from the desk at the windleaking door, turns, and heads into the slum gym. His footsteps echo in the high ceiling, across the cement floor, undampened by the low ring of padding along the walls.
Upon reaching the two, he ducks through the ropes to stand over fallen Tristan, looking tilt-headed down at him. Final verdict? "Hell'd you do to 'im?"
(tristan)
Tilts his head for that look, and doesn't question when, or how. He's been around pack before - some shit just is and you just don't question it. Not fair maybe, but he did offer, and he'll probably offer again.
After a few lessons.
Who's he kidding - a lot of lessons.
"remind me to thank her.. y'know, when I can remember her name. My name. yeah."
Chuckled as he shakes his head slightly, attempting to get the room to stop swimming, answering Decker as he studies him...
"Simple.... big. red. glove. white flash! big. red. glove."(james)
Pack
yeh, he felt Decker walking up
but his attention was on the Kin
whom he's slowly helping to sit up
much easier to make the world stop spinning when it's right side up
this is something he remembers intimately"Held back?"
offered with a shrug
(decker)
So while James is slowly helping Tristan up, Decker watches. Then he gets bored and looks around the darkened gym instead. Not much in the way of machines here...this ain't no 24 Hour Fitness. A few floormats, uneven bars, rings with one belt tattered (dare you to get on), pull-up bars along the walls, and three rings scattered across the floor. All lit by skylights during the day, and too few high-power incandescents too far apart.Decker gets bored with looking around the gym soon enough. "Quit babyin' him, James," he mutters and reaches down, grabs Tristan by the wrist, and hauls him to his feet.
(tristan)
Hand slides under arm to use some sort of leverage to get glove off, then the other, and fingers lift to ditch the headguard too, grin finding way to his lips again as the room slides from several parts into one. single. room. again. (thank god.)
Fingers slide curls back from his face and he chuckles.
ANd then Decker grabs him and he's suddenly on his feet. (holychristlookittheroom spiiiiiiiiiiin.) and he's just as suddenly bent over, hands planted on knees as he coughs (ow! stomach muscles) before he's using Decker's shoulder to pry himself upwards to stand again. and patting. facitiously. "gee. thanks."(james)
"Not babyin, I just didn't want him to puke when the room started spinning out of control again."he can't help but laugh at the slight blanch
peeling off his own gloves
gathering up the gear lent Tristan
shoving it all back into the locker
in which the lock is probably all that's holding the door on
well, the bottom hinge sorta helpsfinally of a mind to wipe away the blood on his chin
crimson staining linen wraps
the fact there's a new stain on his wifebeater doesn't seem to even register"Think you can walk, Tristan, or need me to call a cab?"
there's a quick fill-in to his packmage on Eagle's voice
to the where and why he's taking the Kin with him(decker)
Decker? Looks from the gloved hand on his shoulder to the arm attached to the hand to the shoulder attached to the arm to the head attached to the shoulder to the face attached to the head. The eyes are grey and consummately belligerent: Decker wasn't one for casual contact.A hard shrug of that shoulder tosses Tristan's hand aside. Simultaneously the totemphone fills him in on all he needs to know. The Fenrir grunts, fists in the pockets of his enormous jacket, reading the inscriptions of blood on the sanded ring floor. Here the splattered drops of a steady drip, there the fine mist sprayed from a blow landed well, and there the thick mucousoids coughed up after a gut hit. Some old, some new.
Then he turns back to the musician. A long assessment of a look, eyes narrowed to some contemptuous version of a squint. "Hell's a fiddler doin' boxin'?" Just look at Decker's knuckles: big, prominent, stiffened from years of impaction. Couldn't possibly play a violin.
(tristan)
SHoulder throws hand off and he just grins - decker's damn lucky that move didn't result in sudden vomit all over the thug. ain't he?
He blinks, one or two times, and then his laughter joins James' and he takes careful stock as he climbs out of the ring and moves toward his things.. "I can walk. Probably should walk it off." Wipes his mouth with his t-shirt, getting the rest of the blood from his mouth and then. Then he answers Decker's question "Gettin the hell beat outa me, whatcha think?" Wry grin, and then shoulders roll in a shrug. "Spendin time with family. Plain n' simple. Next time we'll be jammin on the street and 'caterwallin'..."(james)
the t-shirt is shrugged on
the sweatshirt over it
layer it on up, Jamey-boy
cause there's a trenchcoat slipped on over it all
he'll keep the wraps up on just for wamrth
rebar clanking in the sling"C'mon then.... I only paid for an hour."
and he's already heading towards the door
though slow enough to make sure Tristan's walking a straight (ha!) line
.... well... walking anyway(decker)
Decker whips a look at James' back. Family?Perfect. Just fuckin' perfect. James has to put up with Dire, so now he's got Tristan to get back at Decker with. Or something like that. The Modi swings between the ropes, drops down to the cement, and trails vaguely in his packmate's wake.
(tristan)
Flannel slipped on, coat follows, and hand - still wrapped, will take care of that, wash and return later - grasps handle of his violin case and he turns to follow James and Decker out. Slow enough that Tristan can walk. Though the line isn't too straight at first (and he ain't too straight ever) but steadies, and soon he's following and matching stride for stride. Grin soon taking its place over swollen lip. "Remind me to find someone to teach me some moves so I get more'n'one hit in next time..(james)
there's... well... a bit of a smirk
he can feel that look
(Yeh Decker, family... meet my kin.)"Sure thing Tristan, we'll practice next time instead."
then they're out the door, and heading home
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 13, 2003.01.13.03. - comerabishu/milk carton cub [imogen-sheribelle-danny] *fog[nikki's diner, jersey city]
(james)
Decker was out with the truck
Rune was out with her baby Beemer
so when he got the call to meet her?
James was taking the bushe had actually had several interesting conversations along the way
Hibernia to Jersey City is something of a ride
especially with all the stops
but here he is, in all his raggedy glory
dreadlocks, pathwork quilt of a cloak, tank boots
(yippe-kay-ay motherfucker)
quietly making his way towards....dark eyes drop in the search of memory
oh yeh... .Nikki's(imogen)
Her eyes narrow slightly and for a moment or two she looks at Sheribelle with a sharp gaze. She's always direct, but this stare was almost an invasion of the teenager's privacy.Then after a moment, the intensity leaks away, leaving the impression that it may have only been her imagination. "A sign, ay?" Quiet, almost disinterested. "Huh." Non-commital. A sign. Perhaps she is thinking of the stories she's heard of apocalypse and their signs.
(sheri)
Gaze lifts (and widen slightly, impossibly round and so vibrantly colored the other sidee of the coin) and meets the intensity of that gaze evenly, without flinching, without even seeming to care for teh invasion. They can only see what you let them see. She returns hands and gaze to work as the intensity leaks away, her smile as easy as ever, slight shoulders lifting in little shrug as she nods. "That is the feeling I got, yes. There was more she would not tell me, of course, being our first meeting. I definately got the feeling the nightmares would not cease until she found out their cause."
Perhpas it is another story, that should be taken into consideration, perhaps there is a greater force at work that has drawn them together.. perhaps... it is only the storytellers idealization of what really occurred.(imogen)
A faint sound in the back of her throat, more a sound to show that she is listening as she finishes off her coffee, disliking the cold taste of bitter liquid she hardly liked hot.She shrugs slightly, starting to pull out another cigarette, "Then maybe it will make more sense in time."
(james)
the bell above the door jingles lightly
and the Gnawer steps in from the cold
there's a dramatic pause by the door
long enough for him to look around for the kin
yep, bright myriad reds
the colors of fire and autumn and sunsets all wrapped into one
that's her, ten o'clockdunno who she's with, though
but that doesn't seem to matter much to him
she called him there so she's stuck with him
but he's polite enough to not obliquely interrupt
making sure they both see him approach(sheri)
She nods, slight, though her smile remains. "Perhaps it will. She wondered, of course, if there were others who shared her dream. A feeling of connection that she couldn't shake." A slight shrug, then there is the blast of cold that aches around ankles with the opening of the door.
Nikki's is not the highest quality establishment, run down, dive, hole in the wall. But it is comfortable ( and one should see what she can see - anime bright colors of dreams and webs of nightmares that criscross around the them, through them, with them.) and the bell thought broken dings and brings smile to young girls face as she catches that dramatic pause (He. has. arrived!) and slight chuckle as he rests his gaze on Imogen a touch longer then the glance she receives.
Not exactly 'with' her, sitting in a booth catycorner to Imogens, soft cloth holding a myriad of bracelets and barrettes and necklaces that are born from glass and thread under skillful hands sitting at the edge of the table, under her fingers another set, something she watches far more intensely then the baubles made before. Requested work. More intensive - and expensive. A slight nod toward james, as he begins to approach. "Seems to be for you."(imogen)
Imogen sits facing the door, at one of the corner tables. If he had not seen her, the pulse pull of her breeding might have caught his attention instead (and perhaps it was what caught it in any case.) Sheribelle sits at one table over, the two of them holding a half conversation across the space, the younger woman doing a bit more of the talking, than the doctor.Her dark eyes lift toward the Gnawer as he approaches, and she flips the book before her closed, shoving it one handed into the satchel, a rustle of cardboard against bookcover as she does so.
She does not greet him aloud as he approaches, sliding her half forgotten cigarette between her lips and lighting it with a bronze lighter, inhaling slowly of the poison before expelling it toward the ceiling, watching as smoke rings drift upward and disperse. Dark eyes do light on James, however (and that moment of direct stare, the look eye to eye that is so rare for his kind to receive), and that is perhaps what serves as her greeting. Her eyes straife sideways as she smirks faintly in Sheribelle's direction. "So it would seem."
(james)
it's a little dive
and doesn't he feel right at home
seeing the purse of lips around the filter
and the telltale zippo clack
there's a grin that quirks across his features
the tall raggedy man pulls to a stop before the table
head tilting to a glance between themhe doesn't know what they're talking about, if at all
but there was an exchange of words"Bum a smoke?"
more interesting than am I interrupting for sure
(sheri)
Gaze slides over him - one could say intimately, but that would be a far cry from the curiosity that it truely is - as he stops between their table, and hand reaches out to snag cloth before the edge of his patchwork coat can send it toppling. Somehow, she avoids hitting her coffee - long since cold, yet drunk just the same (waste not, want not) and maintaining hold on work between her fingers. A flash of smile (and tinkle of bells that dance along her side, somewhere hidden in depths of silks, his coat is patchwork, her's a conglomeration of silks in golds and silvers and blues and greens, setting off skin and hair of unseen, unreal hues - a study in ocean depths is she) and she relaxes again. Inturruption easily accepted, as most things with her are. Especially now. "evenin." The only word from the... talkative... teen.(imogen)
She doesn't quite have an answering grin, but a flicker of her lips as she shoves the cigarette package in his direction, a tilt of her chin offering him the seat across from her, "Fuckin' nasty habit you've picked up, there," she says hypocritically as she taps ashes into the ashtray, before slipping the cancer stick back into her mouth.The zippo is placed atop the cigarette package, because if he doesn't have any fags, he likely doesn't have a light, either. Her eyes slide toward the teenager as she speaks again.
(james)
there's a bit of a smirk in his smile"Keep running out of things to do with my hands."
a wink towards the teenager
then he slides into the seat across from Imogen
plucking a single stick free and lighting it
(there's a reason the lighter was bronze and not silver)
snapping the zippo closed and sliding the two back"Thanks."
(sheri)
"Should take up a craft." Chuckle as glass and thread is lifted in response to comment and wink. Not a day over 15, she seems, though she's been on the street a long time, that much is clear. It's more the set of her shoulders, the ease that speaks of a quickness, a readiness to move should it be warrented, the comfort she takes in cold coffee, the relaxation in a little dive like this that others would shun, but offers her marginal safety. And warmth. Never forget the warmth.
Her smile remains, but she doesn't intrude - though it's already been pointed out she will strike up a conversation with a stranger with ease, as if those never met are her closest friends. Fingers continue to work, beads picked from pockets sewn in cloth at seemingly random pace, no real pattern discernable to any but her. Though after a moment fingers pause and one hand lifts to scratch behind (pointed) ear, pushing soft brown (vibrant seaweed green, hanging low, low, down her back, ends hidden in fold of scarf by movements that set off the tinkling bell) hair behind her ear, and she finds soft voice again as she arches a brow at Imogen "boyfriend?" grinned, winningly.(imogen)
"Right. Just don't die of cancer, or nothing," smoke drifts from her mouth, a blue grey haze. A pale hand reaches out, grabbing the packet of cigarettes and zippo, sliding them closer to her, "and you're welcome."An eyebrow lifts as Sheribelle inquires her winning grinning question, and glances sideways at the teenager. "No." Nothing more than that.
(james)
there's a glance back at the Kinfolk
Imogen, my dear, was that a joke?
and he grins, even chuckling
the sound low and warm and inviting
though the single word from the teen nearly makes him cough that lungful of smoke right back on upthank. Gaia. Decker. wasn't. around.
hello flattened Jamesand dreads dance over his shoulders in the shake of head
"Friend, at most."
(sheri)
Unrepentant, her grin, even at their reactions, watching them, learning from them (and be sure they will be staring in some story somewhere along the line, at some point in time) as she nods. "My mistake. Friends then." Of course, should Decker come around now - after the events of the past week - she would be feelnig quite ill. Nice that James isn't so set in his ways. And he has a nice laugh, as well.
A roll of her shoulders into slight shurg, and she lays the piece being worked on the gloth beneath her hands, figners sliding over the glass, straightening, studying, searching for something that makes it click for her, that makes it truely waht was asked for. A nod - slight, and more to herself then anything else - and fingers work again, though to be honest, her gaze remains more on them.(imogen)
A sideglance as James nearly chokes. He begins to breath again, and she simply leans back. Sheribelle continues to watch them, so Imogen does not actually explain what she's doing as she pulls out the file folder and slides it across for the Gnawer. "Thought you might wan' t'see this."Photographes, mostly. Several different pictures of the same thing. Incised letters across old and sagging male chests. c o m e r a b i s h u. One of the last photographes in that series is has a seperation, c o m e / r a b i s h u with the second word underlined.
After that, a few more pictures, depicting the grisly deaths. Blunt force trauma in so many different ways. "Homeless." She says as he peruses. "I thought, considering your... leanings. You might want to know. Warn any of your friends out there."
(james)
he looks even contrite at the outburst
perhaps somewhat shy
breathing... breathing is good
he suffices in just pulling the folder across and flipping through
that's just..... peachy
looking a little more grim than when he first came in and noddingMmmm.
Hm.the folder is flipped closed and slid back
that's when he finally taps the log off of into the tray"Name's familiar. But thanks for the tip."
yeh, he knows exactly who he's going to warn first
(imogen)
"Damnit. I searched for two weeks for what the hell that meant, and the name looks familiar to you?" One joke, and that might actually be a second. Maybe Imogen's losing her touch. Or in a good mood...She could be drunk, too. Or high, depending.
"Next time, I ask you, first." Taking the folder back, and sliding it back into the satchel. "Four in the last month." Tacked on to the end.
(sheri)
She was told that Eshu have a knack for being in the right place at the right time. She was told that she had that knack as well, though she's never really thought about it. Reed slender fingers (bluish tinge, tipped in whiterose) itch to reach for the folder, to see what is within that folder. Her gaze speeks of it - and she, so recently homeless, still wishes to know.
A moment. Two. Then slight clearing of her throat.. "What about us homeless...?" Almost shyly asked, different then before. This she needs to know. there is no tease, there is no winning smile, there is only worry...(james)
"We need to watch our backs."that last with dark umber eyes flicked towards Sheri
but Imogen gets the greater part of his attention
grin raking over his featuers again
drunk, high, whatever
he sorta likes this sense of humor in her
he knows it exists
but dammit that's rare to see it
no matter the situation
(though he seems to get the most jokes around dead things.....)"Yeh... it's the name of a demon."
(imogen)
"Stay off th'streets, if ya can at night, too." On the heels of James's declaration to Sheribelle.She nods toward James, "Yeah, I had to lie to a University professor to find that out. I guess I know what my next research project is."
(sheri)
her look is particularly dry. If she were not the girl she is, that could have been almost condenscending. The homeless need always to watch their backs. But she nods, and attention pulls from the couple, and slides to the work in hand again. Let them speak - and watch yourself, Sheribelle. No matter what you've seen, what you've done, what you will do iin the furture, watching ones back is second nature. When you start at 11, and last till 15, it is a lesson hard learned. well learned. But she lapses to silence, and beads find way to thread and around again.
Does she hear the talk of the demon? perhaps. Does she listen closer? Perhaps. Is it noticible? defiantely not. Dreams of one that speak of apocolyptic ends, mentions of names of demons, nightmares that clutch and grab and suckle at fears and build them till they sufficate the sleep from your frame - all this.
And stay off the streets at night. Slight the nod, again, wry the smile, though it slides genuine instantly, and attention? firmly on the work blossoming under her hands.(james)
it wasn't meant to be condescending
to tell the homeless to watch their back?
from another that obviously looks like he belongs on the street?
should speak of how dire those pictures were
he knows it better than most
he's been on the street for 21 years, minus the last six months
but whatever she gets of it, it matters little more to him now"I know of a couple books at the library that might help, if you want me to grab 'em for you."
(imogen)
Neither had meant to be condescending. However, if Imogen noticed the particularly dry look that Sheribelle had given, she must be ignoring it."Sure. I've got a start on a few that might help. I suppose I'll go from there, see what comes up." A light shrug of her shoulders, "If anything."
(sheri)
Well, she is the girl she is - she simply shrugs it off, and does her best not to really, obviously pay attention. She has friends here too. She has things she should know - but she did not look at the pictures. She knows only what she did before - and there's a demon name to consider. What it is - she is unsure. But she will find out. He has his source, his friend - and she hers. Been a while since she checked in with them, most thought she died in NYC, or was finally picked up. Little could they have known what's really happened. (How would she tell them? [she wouldnt] Hi, sorry so long, I has met the chesire cat, after all, and become Alice in some adventures through the Looking Glass in Luc's bathroom, all tahts left is finding that dratted white rabbit and meating the queen...) But smile rests easy on her lips, and fingers work, pausing only to sip long cold coffee, setting cup down in the exact ring that cooled cup has birthed, and then again, beads added- one taken away, another slid in its place, as she works to achieve the look she wishes.(james)
"You at work?"well, he knows she's probably working
it's more if she's needed nearby in the immediate future"I can grab 'em before the library closes if you can give me a ride, else I'll take the bus and have 'em to you tomorrow."
he knows her sleeping schedule well enough
he's spent enough nights on her couch to know she's often doing something as he's passing out
and still doing it by the time he wakes several hours later
so he's not worried about when she'll be reading them
it's more when she wants to(imogen)
A quick sideways glance at her watch, "Provided I don't have any pages in the near future, I should be alright." He's noticed the pattern of lack of sleep, more than a pattern of sleep. She appears to be on call twenty four hours a day, and more often than not, she's going out the door as he wakes up, perhaps disturbed by the shrill sound of the pager."I'll drive you, no need to suffer the buses." The zippo and cigarette packet is stuffed into her jacket pocket. Picking up the heavy weight of her satchel and starting to stand.
(sheri)
She again reaches for the wares on the edge of the table - automatic as someone stands, flipping the cloth over the various baubles within and moving them to a safer place on the table before her. A smile offered as Imogen stands, but she remains quiet, gaze returning to her beading, nimble fingers placing bead after bead.(james)
ooooh, an escort, even
he's in luck tonight
two jokes and a ride
lady luck seems to be smiling down on him
heeee.there's a nod towards Sheri
"Nice.... sooorta meetin' ya."
and even a bit of that easy grin
but duties call
and he's up and ready to follow Imogen(danny)
Months. How many months had it been? days turn to weeks that turn to months The twisting turning voices in his head have subsided...had he won? Maybe this night...so far...He cant be over 15 years old. His hair falls just past his shoulders. It hadnt been cut in a while, obviously so, it wasnt all the same length, this kid seemed like he was lacking the hygine one would get at home. home was a long way aways He was fighting a fight he could win, one gainst himself...or what he understood...What the hell was going on, hands clench into a fist unconsciously as he thinks about the last week...sometimes is was worse then other times...sometimes he didnt even remember what he did. Moving out from the alley...he walks...Whats the chance of anyone knowing who he was...(imogen)
She throws the strap of the satchel over her shoulder, the fingers of her hand flicking out in a half wave toward Sheribelle, as she begins to walk out of the diner. "I'm parked some ways up." Habit it seemed. It doesn't matter where she's going, she parks a block or sometimes six away. Walking, maybe.As they exit the diner and reach a more private area (aka an empty street) she inquires quietly, her voice low against the ambient city sounds, "Is Rabishu something o'the Garou, or do you just have a habit of knowing ancient babylonian demons?"
(sheri)
"Sheribelle." Name offered as she chuckles softly, fingers lifting in a wave. "Later." encompasses them both, as she shifts position (tinkle of bells unseen, slide of shifting silk over slender form) slightly, foot sliding from under knee, resting on the floor again, ankles crossed and slid under her seat as she contemplates scrounging enough change for a warm cup of coffee before she returns home. A stop on the way to see what has happened to the homeless, what this demon name is - and then home to the flat to see what Luc has heard.(james)
"James."tossed back over his shoulder
then he's out and into the cold night's air
not seeming to mind or be surprised by the walk
walking's good for them
muscular shoulders rolling in a slow shrug
there's a bit of a shy grin
and his voice is but a murmur"Was raised by Frankenweilers, partially, so I spent as much time on the street as in the Library."
(danny)
A hand moves to his shoulder where he can barely feel the sting anymore...he was grateful for the fake id that allowed him to get the tattoo...and really it didnt hurt all that much. Covered by his jacket, he just feels the slight sting and smiles..he knew what was under there...How lucky he had been so far...he managed to make it months without being found. She had to have given up by now...that was the only string tying him to this life...her and he wasnt going to fall for any of her shit...all her fucking answers...all her fucking ideals...this was what she wanted...not him, not at all. no fucking way...a fucking curse was what it was...they were teaching him that...just the thought of it made his heart start to thump in his chest...the memories of that night he killed someone, fucking killed someone in cold blood...feeling his blood start to rush...calm calm the fuck down...he walks up the street...towards the diner...seemingly a little spaced out and perhaps a bit out of it while he thinks(imogen)
"You've got weird taste in literature, James." Dryly declared as she walks down the street, sliding leather gloves over her hands for partial warmth. "Weird, weird taste. Read the Satanic bible while you were at it, did you?"He can feel the curl of silver still, something that must almost be expected now. She has likely decided that she simply doesn't want to go without it. Anything can happen. And with her anything does.
Danny is walking in their direction, and for a moment or two, Imogen appears uninterested. Though, as he draws closer, it appears that the petite redheads attention is diverted that way, half concious, pensive as she watches the unshorn unkempt boy approach.
(danny)
hands in his pockets...looking for a smoke...as he wanders up the street- --what the.... His eyes lock on the girl...paces slowing as he seems to have been-- noticed? Heart starts to thump...harder and harder in his chest...almost tunnel vision on the redhead...why are you looking at me like that Was he paranoid, or was she...looking at him...Paces slowing as his heart beats faster...(randal)
The young man exits the O'tollys and snorts. Pulling off the paper hat he tosses it in the nearby trashcan and turns to walk down the street. Smelling faintly of Cheeseburgers and frys. He's got a coat with him but doesn't put it on in fear of infecting it with the smell*(sheri)
James. Name filed away to be remembered as she watches them leave the diner. A shake of her head. She did have her reasns for asking, but they must have had their reasons for not telling. A soft sigh, and fingers dig in pockets (pouches layered among the silken scarves that swirle and bells protest her movements) for some extra change, finally coming up with enough to get a new hot cup of coffee. She stands (clothin setles in soft swish of multicolored delight, swirling about her slender form) and moves to the counter, and refills her cup, smilnig at the waitress who is nice and still doesn't kick her out. Back to her booth, slide into seat, beadwork taken up again between sips of caffinated goodness.(james)
"Parts" grinned "Education was important."to the Frankenweilers
to the Hoods, too, but he won't say that
she's got a brisk walk
he's got an easy swagger
just strolling down the street
even with that niggling JAB of silver that eats at him with each step
but living in her apartment half the time over the last week or three
and let's not forget the time in the motel
well.... he's gotten used to it
..... kind've.she doesn't have to say she's watching the boy for his attention to drift over
he's supposed to be keeping an eye on her, right?
and that change in the set of her shoulders and stride tells him more than he needs to know
but her gaze is pensive - his is casual(imogen)
James can feel the silver, a constant tug, as sure as she can feel the pressure of the knives at her back, as solid as if he were carrying them himself (though if he were carrying them, it would be even worse than now). It's like her constant knowledge of his rage. His rage. Rune's rage. Decker's rage. That feeling of barely held tempers. It costs them all a little to control it, every day. It costs her a little to face it, every day. She's gotten used to it.Kind've.
The boy slows, and Imogen continues watching, her lips moving, but the boy unable to catch the sounds. She speaks, instead to James, "I think..." the thought is trailed off, abandoned.
Somewhere in the library of her mind, the solution to Danny is there, perhaps between the effects of hypertension on a liver and the smell of cyanide. She has to find it. The dark eyes have moved away, however, and stone has slipped across her features once more, an easy familiar facade. Her lips move once more, and James hears her voice.
"Remember Lexi? Hung out with Decker from time to time. Blonde girl. She was 'ere looking for someone or another. Cousin, brother, nephew, I can't recall. She showed me his picture."
Dark eyes slide in the direction of Danny once more.
(randal)
He strolls on down the street. Letting tension melt off him. Reaching into the jacket pocket he pulls out a NY Yankees cap and tucks his longish blond hair intoit.Longish blond hair, but clipped short in the back. Blue eyes. White but a bit tanned. WHite shirt with the O'Tollys nametag on it that reads "RANDAL". Black pants. He makes his way on down the street*
(james)
yeh.... kind've
it's more that he's just accepted that being around Imogen
equates, on some level, to being around silver
and while he's instinctively unnerved by it
he deals with it as she deals with his Rage
fair enough trade for her company
she's by far the most scholarly of his packnodding quietly to the soft words
and a brow lifts, glancing over"Barely. Something we should do about it?"
mmhm, that's right
a Garou full moon asking a Kinfolk her opinion(danny)
Ok...this wasnt good...nope. He had gone this long...fuck if he was gonna let someone stop him now...No time to wait and see he turns and starts into a sprint...man one fast 15year old...Hisheart beating faster now..adreniline mixed with anxiety filling his body...fuck fuck fuck He feels his feet moving as fast as they could take him....run...run!(imogen)
"She said..." and that's when Danny takes off, "Fucking Christ," blurted out as he takes off, "I don't think anybody's exactly explained shite to him. He did that before they had a chance." A frustrated gesture toward the disappearing back of the teenager."I think he has issues. So... yes. Maybe we should. Goddamnit." Reluctance, perhaps. Annoyance. A glance at the Ahroun, before half beginning to jog after the sprinting form of the boy, only lengthening her strides to an all out run, if the Bone Gnawer joins her.
(james)
well.... shit.
there goes the library trip
there's a bit of a look towards Imogen"Get the car."
and he bolts after the kid
now, fifteen year old kids are fast
but applied Garou are a bit faster
(so it's cheating a little)
and it's not long before he catches up"Hey kid..... hang up a minute!"
(randal)
The young man looks up as he rounds a corner and blinks as he sees Danny running ass for leather straight twords him. He blinks. Reacts!!!!Ducks and covers.
(danny)
And all they can see are elbows and asshole...he hasnt even looked over his shoulder once to see if they were following him...fuck that...Panic setting in, fuck this..catch me if you can He hears a voice call him.. and its close..he too could run fast, same gift and having the whole young thing going for him as well...He turns his head...how the hell...Quickly slowing up to avoud the guy and move over to a corner, ducking around it. Fuck if he was going to go down, no fucking way...heart pounding in his chest now..no no no What did this guy want...what did they want...why were they chasing him...fuck, what the fuck...(randal)
Danny runs past him and he straightens up just intime to see James running twords him and blinks dropping into acrouch again. Covering his head*(imogen)
"His name's Danny." Tossed in his direction as her attention is deflected to the SUV, crossing the street (thankfully no cars to turn her into a kin pancake), pulling keys from her pocket and unlocking the doors. The engine fires to life, and she pulls away from the curb, beginning down the road where the putative fenrir cub is dashing.(tristan)
Easy sidewalk eating strides carry hm down the walk, oddly enough toward some sort of commotion up the street ahead. fingers wrapped around the handle of his violin case. Another streetcorner, another dollar, time for diner. Same night, another street, life goes on, and as always, there will be time to play on.
Dark gaze watches the fleeing boy heading his way, with someone familiar dashing along behind him, duck and cover boy, and its all clicked into place one piece at a time. Half a block and closing... decision time.(james)
fucking hell.
he remembers when he was that age
running from rival packs, cops, thugs, you name it
thought he was pretty hot
now he knows what it felt like to chase him
sunnuvabitch
karma, he supposes"Danny! Wait up kid!"
the crouching guy ignored
tank boots skidding on gravel around the corner
the next minute he's pouring himself into a sprint
barreling down the sidewalk like some charging bull
fist wrapping in the flaps of Danny's shirt
and that's when he puts on the brakes"STOP!"
(danny)
Like he has a choice....feeling the tug of his shirt as he continues to sprint..."Get your fucking hands off meee" He barks out...now his heart pounding so fast hes sure its going to rip through his chest and keep moving...Gravity wins, along with the fist of the bigger stronger Garou..."Motherfucking sunnofabitch" He begins to struggle, squirming and moving as a teenager trying to get out of the grip of a parent would do..."Dude im gonna fucking scream and yell get your hands off me what the fuck" Anger rage mixed with pure terror and panic..who are you what do you want.. why are you grabbign me how do you kow my FUCKING NAME...
IT took him that long to realize the guy knew his FUCKING NAME..."Dude lemmie go"(imogen)
She pulls to a stop a foot or two from the Danny and James altercation, reaching into her glove compartment and grabbing her medical examiner's shield as a second thought, quickly unwrapping it and tossing it over her neck to hang loosely as she gets out of the SUV.Kid's got a worse mouth than Rune. Tristan is standing a few feet away and the firey haired female gives him a glance, which is unhelpful in it's own way.
She keeps her distance, however. Garou business. She's just the driver.
(tristan)
Steps continue, that easy ground eating stride, and then the voice gets his attention and he recognizes James then, and step quickens. Decision made. He continues to hold the violin case, but he nears quickly enough to flank the kid. He doesn't intrude, but should the kid bolt again - he's ready. He doesn't have to know why. this is family business. that's all he needs to know.
Imogen drives up, and gets a quick glance, easy smile, but gaze returns instantly to Danny and James.(james)
the grip twisted in the shirt is like steel
Danny's not going anywhere as long as James has a hold of him"Danny."
there's a crack in his voice that gets full and complete attention
it filters past the panic
it filters past the fear
throws one into full shock
it's a little bit of that full moon magic"Look, you sit here, listen to what we have to say, and I'll let go of you. I'll even buy you a burger or somethin... just. stop. running and yelling, allright? Calm down or you'll hurt yourself...."
(randal)
He heads on down the way. Stopping a bit back from the scrap, I mean lets be honest. This isn't an altercation. Something was goin' down. He tilts his head and watches, brows raise and he blinks some more. Looking around hoping this sort of thing doesen't draw... oh look The woman is a cop.(danny)
What the fuck..was that supposed to be some sort of fucking calming comment? Buy him a burger...ovbviously this guy was more crazy then he was...This wasnt good, what if he changed into that beast..he didnt know how to control it..not really...and what if this guy was...the others..he had heard stories...why did he know him..what did he want with him..and how the hell did he have the monster grip on him like that...what the fuck Eyes peel to the car pulling up...and people were starting to crowd around...you could shut up..or you could scream louder and get out of this But what if this guy was one of them Fuck..he didnt know what to do, fight or flight...fight or flight "Let go of me" he barks..."dude this is some sort of battery....where are the cops when you need them" his voice has lowered...he isnt making nearly as much of a scene as he would like...maybe hes just a little confused (imogen)
Move along now, nothing to see here. She has not joined Tristan in the 'wait to see if the kid gets away and jump him' mode. Then again, at five feet two inches, and maybe a hundred pounds, the only way Imogen is going to stop any barrelling fifteen year old kid is if she stabs him with something really sharp and pointy, and that might not be a good thing to do with an acquaitence's family member.Instead, quiet words and subtle flickers of her badge is dispersing the audience. Routine operation, she says. Please leave, unless you'd like to be taken down to the station for questioning.
She knows how to get things moving. They're not in a good part of town. Most would rather walk away from an interesting crime scene then risk being taken back to the station.
(randal)
His brows raise at the woman and he looks at the badge. He was unaware that medical examiners questioned people. He backs aginst the wall to stay out of the way and puts on a "Who Me?" smile.(james)
"Sit. Down."there's a twist of his wrist and a push/pull down that doesn't leave much choice
the boy's ass uncerimoniously hits the ground
and the Gnawer is crouched with one knee on the ground infront of him
fist rewrapping itself into the kid's collar
there's a hand in his pocket and a badge flipped out"Now, I can have my partner there" thumbing over his shoulder, badge book flipped closed "Throw your milk carton ass into her car and take you back to the station, or you can quit makin' a scene and we can talk this out."
the tone of his voice is beginning to hint there aren't many options in that offer
(tristan)
How far he could go with a case in one hand is perhaps questionable, but readiness to aid in family business is part of his duty. He has no need of knowing what it is. James gave chase, james caught, he'll help make sure the kid stays caught if and when it's needed. till then. Relaxed, easy, controlled. Watchful and alert, but relaxed as well.(danny)
What-the-fuck...He sits not cause he wanted to and squirmed a bit..."what the fuck is there to talk about" he mutters.."i aint done nothing wrong" he shakes his head...heart pounding..feelings of rage building...holy shit..he was going to freak out right here..."dude im telling you" he warns...clenching teeth together as he figths the urdes he doesnt know how to control..."you gotta let me go"now his voice is pleading..."not--here---" teeth clenching tighter...as if he is trying to fight off the inner rage, the feeling pulling at him...no please..please... "trust me" almost coming out as a whisper...If he is kept here, he is going to break a law he doesnt even know exists..and it wont be intentional...thats for sure..."arrgggghhh" he fights the inner battle...all his thoughts fighting the rage...no no no(randal)
Brows shoot up at the kids bubbeling anger and such and he looks up and down the street. Damn near deserted once Imo flashed that badge. He looks back to the people and watches. Pulling one of those "I'm just a flowerpot. Don't look at me" things that the indiginous downtrodden do so well.(imogen)
"Yes, you. Wouldje be so kind as to get moving?" Randal's attention did not escape the attractive red head as she narrows her eyes.She can catch the sounds of Danny speaking, and does not grasp so much the words as the feeling behind the words. Or perhaps there's a secondary sense that has been inbred in her (it costs her a little bit, every day).
"Hey. If you've got him, we should get him down, anyway. Instead o' doing this on the streets."
(randal)
He raises his brows. Blinks and looks to James. He'd seen something that made him not just want to mosy. And I mean.. come on. Noone was dead here. What the hell is an ME trying to act all top cop for.
He srugs and slips into his jacket. A small pin on the lapel catches light.(danny)
Holy shit it was the fucking cops? What the hell? they knew...they knew (how the hell did they know) Killer..he was a killer..cold blooded killer...oh my god they knew how the fuck did they know..it wasnt in this city..it wasnt in this state..fuck it wasnt even in this time zone...Eyes moving back from the chick to the guy who now had him sitting down there...gotta let me go...gotta let-me-goo(james)
"Danny, listen to me."whatever commanding edge was in his voice
it's gone now
it's a lot softer, barely a murmur, for the boy alone
the twist in shirt shifts to a hand settled on the youth's shoulder"You've done nothing wrong, yet, but you're about to.... I can feel it building, and you don't want to do that here. We both know it. You can fight it down, just relax. Else you're going to attract a lot more attention to yourself than you want. People with badges that aren't as understanding."
(imogen)
She makes a short sharp sound of annoyance as she catches sight of the badge and simply turns on her heel walking back toward Tristan, James et al.(danny)
He hears the words...and they were just that..words...taking a quick breath, another spuratic gasp of air...sonnofabitch why wasnt he letting him go...he couldnt just calm down, there was no on/off switch on this kid....teepth still tightly clenched along with 2 fists.."then i suggest we get up and start walking...i gotta get out of here" He wasnt pleading to get away from the guy asmuch as he wsa pleading to just leave where they were...so out in the open. right there(tristan)
Rage. boils. and pools from the kid (awshit) and he glances around, though watches James for his decision in the matter, even though near instantly escape routes are marked - if the kid frenzys.... he ain't no fool. Seen that once before, and the results sure as fuck weren't pretty. Momma Grace would tan his hide to know he put himself too close to that anyway, but then again, it's only because he's her favorite son. Only son - but who's counting.
James' tone softens, and Tristan waits, paitiently, hopfully, though randalls movement catches his eyes - or more so, Imogen's snort of irritation. Can't see the pin from here, but he can gather waht that look means, having been on the receiving end of it recently. Attention mostly on James and Danny still.. watching. waiting.(james)
fair enough
there's a nod
and as easily as he put the kid ont he ground
he's hauling him up"C'mon. Walk."
(danny)
phew And the tension begins to leave his body...he aint running away...yet But he HAD-TO get out of there...so many people...what if he coulnt control it..."tell me you have a smoke...please" thats all he can mange out(james)
the hand that was on his shoulder turns into a pat"You'll learn to control it, kid, takes practice."
he may not say that once he finds out Danny's tribe, though
considering the Fenrir he knows best, now
he digs into yet another pocket and hands over a pack of Camels and cheap bic
(with something of an apologetic glance to Imogen, it was an ice breaker, earlier)a bit of a blink
oh... Tristan
grin flashing in what's probably a very late hello
he'd be so focused on the kid he ignored the crowd
half a glance back at Randal, too
but he's back to focusing on the cub"Wanna meet us down the block?"
that last part to Imogen
he's not about to toss the kid into a car right now
nor is he going to trust him more than an arm's length away(imogen)
The apologetic glance is met with a look that passes for her as amusement, an eyebrow lifting slightly, and shrugging her shoulders lightly.She is pulling out her cigarettes for her own good, however, fire kissed hair falling forward over her shoulders and half obscuring her face as she bends to light the Camels from the bronze zippo between her gloved fingers. "Yeh," words that are softly accented, drift out on smoke, "I'll give y'a bit."
(danny)
Ok this was eerie..learn to control it how the hell--what were these people fucking psychics? He readilly takes one of the smokes and continues to walk with the guy..eyes peeled for any escape route...always good to leave options open...But he continues to walk with the guy...his voice barely a whisper..."how do you know what i am?"(tristan)
returned grin, as he nods, leaning back against a light pole as they pass, situation in hand. "evenin James." And only then does he smile over his shoulder at Imogen "to you too."
He doesn't follow James and the kid - he's got the situation well in hand. Ankles cross, case hangs loose at his side, comfortable and relaxed.(randal)
His eyes flicker over to Tristan then. Then down to the case. a blink. Ok no.. that would be way too sterotypical if there was a gun in there. Still. He seemed the calmest of the little gathering. Giving one look to Imo to make sure he wasn't going to get arrested for daring to be on the street he heads over twords Tristan. A nod. Nor really meaning anything by it save "hey"*(imogen)
"How do you do." a quiet comment toward Tristan as he greets her, leaning against the edge of her SUV, eyes flickering toward the walking pair from time to time.(tristan)
He smiles at Imogen (no boyfriend around and all) "Doin allright, ma'am. Good to see you again." A wink, then he arches a brow at Randal, chin lifts in somehting of a returned nod, the pin now seen for what it is. Soft chuckle born. "evenin." friendly enough.(james)
with the pack handed back
he lights one up for himself
and shoulders roll in a shrug beneath the patchwork trench
there's an easy grin within the frame of heavy dreadlocks
and his voice is still only for Danny to hear"It's called Rage, you learn to feel it in others like us. Though honestly? When you started running I had no idea, just knew that someone who knew someone we knew was looking for you, for some reason, and now I've a good idea why. Lemme see if I have this right."
glanced over, just to make sure the boy is paying attention
back to mellow James"You went apeshit and furry six ways from Sunday, some day, did something you regret but had no control over, are running from it and the cops because you either don't understand or don't believe what's going on. How far off am I?"
(randal)
He nods and offers a quiet "Sup?"
He stands there and slips his hands into his coat pockets. Somewhat watching the pair moving down the street as well. The shining image of your adverage everyday guy. Still in the uniform from his first job. Hasn't gone to his second, graveyard shift, job.
Yankees cap and jacket.
He looks over to Imo and thinks he remembers her from the diner. Nods to her* hello.(danny)
He stops in his tracks. Eyes locking on the guy...pretty good Taking al ong drag from the smoke...holding it in his lungs...then letting the smoke exit in long clouds from his lips...choosing his words carefully...eyes moving from the guy, to the street...he was exactly right on..that was exactly it...holy shit he couldnt have hit the nail on the head any better...silence..no words yet..nothing but an amazed look on his face as he listens to James...and merely nods...no words..just a nod(imogen)
A faint sound in the back of her throat that might be either answering Tristan (Yeah, yeah, nice to see you too) or answering Randal in a rather non-verbal form of a semi-civil greeting.Smoke blows toward the sky as she exhales, eyes flickering up the street once more.
(james)
that easy smile is still there
and maybe a look of understanding"Would you be just as surprised to hear you're the second kid I've run into in this town that's had that story? Happens to the best of us. Like I told you... you have to learn how to control it and use it."
nope, not a single question about what he did
or.... who he did
or anything or the sort
just an acceptance that it happened
and now they gotta work through it
moving on, and all that"Question is what to do from here on out. You gonna let us help, or keep running?"
he doesn't particularly want to chase the kid down again
(randal)
He nods knowing that feeling. He absently pulls a pack of big red from a pocket and offers Tristan a stick before skinning one himself. Gently he pops it in his mouth and gives a look around again. Looks down to the case. "Violinist?"(danny)
Now was the time for logic...he certainly wasnt going to fight the guy, although trust wasnt on the top of his list right now..plus..this guy could be playing for the other side....how would he know...he was a perfect target for them..."you know her?" is all he says...that should pretty much explain it, at least which side they were playin for...what did they know of Lexi...and how the hell--in this big ass city--was he spotted by a couple of folk that happened to be on the same street...survivor, he had made it this long at least using his brain somewhat....another long drag...he doesnt really know what to say, he didnt ask for help...and who knew what this dude wanted from him.."im fine" he manages to come up with.
Im fine? what a stupid thing to say(imogen)
The two Gnawers, or whatever Randal is, converse a few feet away and she leans against the SUV, the conversation washing around her as she smokes, dark eyes sometimes flicking from time to time in the direction of James and his little protegé.(tristan)
He can't resist the chuckled grin "no, tiny cello." Then he just nods. "Yeah. play the street corners when I get hungry."(randal)
He smirks a bit and chuckels. Chews. Ponders and nods again "I work two shit jobs and you probly get better pay." A grin.(tristan)
He just grins and nods. "bet I do. Never stoop to doing a shit job - gotta do whatcha love. If you do it well enough - there's always enough to eat. If not, love something else."(james)
"Blond girl? Lexi? Don't know her personally but she's a friend of my packmate's."winging. it. completely.
and he stands there with the tense kid
both sucking down a Camel like there's no tomorrow
good to know it won't affect either of their lungs"Fine, right. If you were fine you wouldn't be running. You wouldn't be scared of what you are and what you don't have control of. I don't think you want to hear the whole responsibility to the Nation to save your ass before the Nasties get to you lecture. So I'll leave it at the longer you wander, the better a chance they have of getting you. Then you'll really wish you were running. This'll look like child's play."
(randal)
He laughs a bit and srugs. "I do one shit job so I can afford to do a different job that aint so bad to have money to live. All in the concessions and how ya look at it." A soft mellow smile.(tristan)
Smile slides to smirk, then back again. "To each their own." He makes good enough money to get him where he's going - and he can always makemore. Tax free even. Livin the high life and he doesn't have to work unless he wants too.(danny)
He cringes as he heard his sisters name come from James...ok at least he wasnt one of the nasties...nodding his head he remains quiet..he wasnt one to ask for help, but shit the crap that had happened to him wasnt quite the normal ~going through puberty~ motions...you might be moody and cranky and a little on edge, but you hardly change into a legendary creature and kill human beings...that wasnt normal...he still couldnt believe it "I dont wanna see her...shes gonna try to take me back there" referring to their home...his own southern drawl beginning to peek out...as if he had been trying to hide it...but now it was peeking through..."i aint goin back there...no way fuck that"(randal)
"So your good then?" He nods to the case. Chews his gum thoughtfully. "I played Bass in Highschool."(imogen)
Perhaps she's half listening to the two discuss music, or her mind might be somewhere else, as her black gloved hand drags through her hair, black leather sharply contrasting with many shaded red hair. She appears to have absolutely no desire to add anything.(tristan)
Street version of YoYoMah - but he just shrugs. "good enough." with a grin. Yeah. he's good. Damn good. But comfortable enough in that he knows it himself, he doesn't go round braggin about it.(randal)
"So what do you like to play most?" Just making casual conversation as James plays guru. ANd the redhead stands there smoking. She's kinda cute but he remembers the BF and ain't touching her with a cattle prod on the end of a pole(james)
there's a thoughtful nod to that
he's watching the kid, closely"Well, none of us especially want to go home." a kind grin, a bit of a shrug "Allright, we'll work it out. C'mon.... at least gettin' you cleaned up and fed. My betters'll have a grasp on what to do and where to go so it works out best for everybody."
that's when he waves down the block at Imogen
(tristan)
A shrug, and nod as James waves in Imogen's direction - situation well in hand it seems. "Classical mostly, but some folk songs, a bit of the blues, some country, even some faster paced stuff. Depends on the crowd and the requests."(danny)
He grumbles as he pullsthe remaining smoke fromt he cigarette..he was now smoking the filter...gross..he tosses the lit butt into the street..."look i dont wanna meet no one you refer to as 'betters'"he shakes his head.."really, i mean" he didnt know what the hell he meant...shit..he didnt wanna be a target for the nasties..he didnt really know what the fuck to expect..he could use guidance...but fuck if he wanted to ask for any help...."hate bein a burden" independent kid..that was for sure...survivor...but he still walks with james..obviously feeling a little safer among the company of other freaks like himself(imogen)
Oh look. A wave. Hello, James. A bemused look curls her lips as she catches the movement up ahead, and tosses her cigarette to the ground grinding it beneath her bootheel. The keys are found, and she rounds the SUV to the driver's side and gets in, starting the engine.Situation well in hand, it seems. The lights of the vehicle turn on, and after a moment she pulls away from the curb, driving the block or more that the two Garou have walked.
(james)
there's a warm laugh"I'm pack Omega, everyone's my better.... they just outrank me. "
he doesn't seem to mind it much, either
very comfortable in his place"No burden, Danny. None at all."
and when the SUV pulls up to the curb
there's a grateful smile at the driver
ushering the kid on into the back
then hopping in shotgun himselfPosted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 11, 2003.01.11.03. - sound therapy [tristan][north jersey]
(james)
they say that effects of sound, frequency and vibration are good for the soul
they say that certain sounds and tones and volumes are good for the soul
it's not only physical, but mental and emotional, as well
whether it's drums or the classic strains of Baroque
whether it's shakers or the intricate techno-funk-beats
somewhere, somehow, sound has infinite possibilitiesand maybe that's why the raggedy man does it
maybe he's doing it for his soul
maybe he's doing it for his mind
maybe he's doing it for the cash that's dropped into overturned top hat
he's sitting on one five gallon bucket
the other is propped at an angle, bottom between tank boots
rebar sticks egging a heavy tribal beat from the thick plastic
it's a strange, distinct, sound - metal against plastic
long dreads hanging down as if reaching from his mind towards the bucket head
as if there's some conjoining of mind, body, and energized soul to inspire those around him
it's a bone rhythm, it's Eagle's appelation, it's gathering help for the journey to come(tristan)
He's on his way to find some street corner or another, around the same area as before, The thug's shooing having absolutely no effect on th musician. Streets public property and all - and someone has to give the natived(thugs) some culture. May as well be him.
Of course, there seems to be another musician on the streets tonight, and he grins - its been a long time since he's heard the telltale signs of a damn good drummer. A moment or two to pick the right direction, and he steps around the corner and sees the raggedy man beatin the hell outa a bucket.
The tribal beat sounds and pounds and Tristans long legs makes quick work of the sidewalk between them, though he hesitates behind someone who watches, and uses the moment to open his case atop a newspaper box. he flips it closed, hooks one of the clasps so he can carry it still, and after a moment to recheck tuning (perfect, as usual, he has been playing most the afternoon, after all) He catches the tribal beat with tap of his toe, and only then - and before those watching part to show James he's been joined - only then is the bow drawn across the strings - in something far from an evil hiss.
The music choice at the moment is intense, matching the pound of metal against plastic, mirroring the grin that dances in the depths of dark eyes, framed with long lashed (girly lashes). Full lips show evidence of that grin as well, even as he concentrates on the quick movement of fingers and bow, chin against the rest and lean frame bending and stretching in slow quartertime to the beat - unconscious movement of body thrumming with music played, music made, music shared
A teacher once said that the violin played him, more then he the violin.He has come to realize that is true. The instrument takes up the beat, twists it into something amazing, and leads his fingers to join in soulful play...(james)
bone rhythms
soul rhythms
and there's a quick glance up at the newcomer
(I recognize you)
before a grin rakes rogue across his featuresthe rhythm doubles
the rhythm triples
it forms a backbeat to the violin
he doesn't overtake
it seems a natural thing to take the new factor into his playing
he's been at Gnawer moots before
an Ahroun playing amongst the Galliards
and they sound more like a street version of Stomp than an organized reverie
everybody takes a part
everybody gives a part
and all in all, it's a good thingthis man, this Warrior sitting in the middle of the concrete jungle
pounding out his Tribe's heartbeat to the cold January night
the crowd steps back, reforming the circle
making room to watch the two musicians
dueling or dueting, perhaps only they know
he smiles at the businessman just off to their left
he winks at the pretty girl at 3 o'clock
he sticks his tongue out at the shy boy hiding behind his mother's woolen trench
coins clink into the hat that now serves to collect for them bothand there's another look
at the man who played Lycanthropy the other day
maybe it's a sly glance
maybe it's a knowing glance
or maybe, just maybe, it's musician's communication
because right at that perfect spot, the sweet dramatic hold of string-fed notes?
he stops
allowing the rich blend of the instrument to echo down the street by itself(tristan)
I recognize you.
As the crowd parts and reforms to allow him entrance to center stage, a foot sweeps case closer to James and a flash of grin giving the girl who picks it up and moves it for him. A wink, and he nods to the man who was with the Raged trio the other day, including the Soft Core Porn King (I know you) and as rhythm doubles, triples, the movements of fingers and bow over strings does the same, using the backbeat, the backbone of the heavy pound as counter to his play.
Accepted easily (some do not do so – you have to be careful, you have to watch, you have to know whom you can play with, and what look should cause you to move back instantly and find another corner. What Thuggish shoo can not do, a simply musician’s glare can.) He joins with whole hearted enthusiasm, holding nothing back in the soulful sweet sound that weaves its way up and down the scale, sliding around in ways you have to understand to learn… There’s a pretty girl – more then one, and they are smiled at. There is a pretty boy (only one) off to the side, who watches with shy admiration, and he is receives a wink – sly and hidden under corkscrew curls barely contained by knit cap. The little boys hiding gets a chuckle, and coins rain, and smile never wavers.
The glance seen, the look returned, the nod slight and the trilled notes pull upwards in that way only violins can, sweet and full and high – all without piercing, and holding for a lifetime, echoing down the chilled winter streets…. Before fingers dash to pull that scale down two octaves and the bow is pulled from strings with a flourish, and an easy, bright-eyed grin.(james)
as the coins rained
now the applause does
and the Gnawer waves to direct it to the newcomer
he's accepted more than enough from the hours of previous play"Not that bad, kid, not that bad at all."
ginned, warmly
looking up from under jungle vine dreads as he reaches for the tophat
counting out the coins and bills that were tossed within
two.... four fifty..... eight.... eighteen (thank you).... twenty
he keeps the coinage
sorting out ten bucks in bills
(is it a wonder why he plays this corner?)
and holds them out to the boysure, there was only one song of accompanyment
but he's more than fair
not like he needs the money for food
he can earn more before the trip
(Tristan)
And he, of course, gives a slight bow, and ever that playful boyish grin before directing the applause to the gnawer, as well. He too has had a bit of previous pay. A nod, and soft chuckle “Thanks, and not so bad yourself, man. You’d make a killin down New Orleans way.” Not, of course, that he’s not made a killin here. Goooooood corner – make a mental note of which one, but not to intrude too often. First come first serve and all that.
He takes the $10, peels off three and hands them back, tucking $7 into his pocket. He, as well, can always make more – and it was only one song. “and thanks again. Name’s Tristan.” Bow added to hand that holds the neck of violin, lovingly cradling both against his belly in order to offer hand wrapped in fingerless gloves to keep some semblance of warmth. “been a while since I’ve had decent accompaniment, specially on the fly.”
(james)
"Never been that far south, but I'll keep it in mind."grinned easily
accepting the bills back
and the hand
his grip strong and confident"Thanks, name's James. I'll normally play this corner when I need to, best spot in my territory."
his territory
his corner
but he doesn't occupy it all the time
and his "patrons" need something when he's not there
there's a couple that are waved off by name
seems he plays here quite a lot
or at least has a good reparte with the regulars"Quite a song you played the other day."
(Tristan)
His grip is firm, shake strong, and his smile – ever confidant. Territory noted, corner noted, smile remains. “Looks like a damn good corner. Any areas I should steer clear on as a regular basis? Or just when you’re tubthumpin?” Respect. Always.
A moments pause and then it clicks. “James… friend of the pretty redhead with the unusual name – Imogen, yes? She said we’d meet up sooner or later, either helped by the message carried from me to you, or simply like this.”
He crouches by his case, flipping it on the side and opening it again, soft cloth taken to rub already gleaming wood to further beautiful shine. Musician’s touch, lover’s touch – one and the same when it comes to simple caring of beloved instrument. His grin returns as bow and cloth are set into the case, followed by the violin, though it remains open, brow creeping upwards “Never turn down a request if I can help it. Cute little thing asked for it, who was I to refuse? Learned it at my mothers knee when I was a youngin.”
(james)
"Just when I'm thumpin'"grinned
he's made it clear it's first come first serve
whether it concerns Tristan or any other performer
his territory, his rules"There's a guitar player named Lazarus, though, voice sweet as the moon's light itself. Careful of her tongue though, she thinks herself still Regal." little streetslang, see if the boy picks up, and his interest picks up at the name "Imogen? Yeh.... she's my neighbor, and friend's girl. Message?"
then, as an afterthought
"Who was your mom?"
not your dad, not your lineage
your mom.
(tristan)
He remains crouched, comfortable, more on a level with the boy on the bucket. Arms cross over knees, and lean form held balanced, sure, strong, as he nods. “gotcha. Lazarus.” A nod, still Regal indeed, and finger lifts to scratch under knit hat, just above an ear, before just pulling it off to let mass of curls spring free to find some semblance of unknown order over ears, around cheeks, tickling strong jaw, a couple finding their way into his eyes only to be brushed back by a hand, and fall forward again. Hat is tucked into a pocket, and he nods – even if itsfollowed by that “aw damn” kinda look.
”Friend’s girl, eh? Too bad, too bad. Pretty little thing. Met her the other night, she said we’re related somewhere along the family tree. Told her to letcha know I’m in town, that’s all. Don’t wanna step on anyone’s territory unknowingly, even if I’m just a 6th cousin twice removed.”
There’s that playful grin again, before it softens with pride. “Most who came around called her Momma Grace. She was just momma to me. Always seemed to have a houseful, even if we were scraping to make ends meet all the time. Lot of family, lot of kin, lot of everyone who needed a place to sleep and a place to eat. She told us stories of the backwoods cousins, and often sang that song as a bit of a lesson to me and the rest.”
(james)
"Momma Grace.... up New York way?"the lifted brow is mirrored
yep, they might be related yes indeed
then there's a soft, warm laugh"You're smack in the middle of Eagle's territory, may not be able to avoid us, really."
(tristan)
His smile splits his face and he near beams - nothing like a sons love for his mother. "Yeah, that's her - ain't been home for about three years, but I call her faithful every weekend still. This was the next stop on the way home to visit for a spell."
He nods, chuckling.. "Well, felt a few around - was pretty sure there was some pack or another around as the... tension... seems right thick around here some nights. Had one tell me to quit catterwallin and head to AC, but wouldn't give me a ride - wasn't gonna go anyway, was more amusing then anything. Nother tell me about a fued over a pretty Irish Ice Queen - right before I met the English maiden in question." Lean shoulders roll into easy shrug, and he chuckles. "good thing I'm not looking to avoid anyone, then, hm? I'll move on if someone decides I'm in the way, but it's been right nice here. Generous folk."(james)
there's that soft, fond laughter again
gathering up the rebar and shoving them into a sling
the two buckets set next to the door with the "closed" sign behind him"I stayed with Momma Grace for a spell when I went into NYC from Albany, about a year ago. She mentioned a musician son when I was playing to earn some cash one night. And watch out for Imogen, she can give a glare that peels paint, her boy's a German, though, so don't go around hitting on her, no matter how pretty she is."
he won't go into details on that one
but fair warning is fair warning
he'd give that to anyone considering Decker's temper
and he nods down the street a bit"Hungry?" nodding as they move on "And my 'mates are pretty lenient unless you start stepping on toes, tolerant of our Family, too. I'll make sure they know that you're around."
(tristan)
He closes his case, snaps the locks, and stands as James does, chuckling. "I'm surprised she only mentioned me. From what others say - she don't shushup. Wanted me to go to Juliard, but I got the traveling bug, and lit out right after high school. She's lenient of my desire - but still wants me to come home for further school, yannow? Safe under momma's wing and all. Am glad you've had the chance to meet her - she's got a soul as sweet as honey and a hand quick with a switch when needed. Ain't no one better on this earth."
A nod of understanding at the German and she's taken bit, chuckling. "Promise to only stare at her ass when no one's looking. Scouts honor."
Playful wink, before he runs his hand over those mismanaged curls, nodding. "S'about dinnertime, yeah. Lead on. And I appreciate that - and will watch the toe steppin. I tend to fade into the background when its required - automatic 'avoid that switch' response bread by momma."(james)
"She mentioned it that night, she wouldn't shut up about it the next night." said with that same, easy grin "Momma Ruggs was the same way, your best friend in the world until that switch flew."mused
he hasn't been home since the shit went down
a part of him keeps considering going back
but everytime he visits, he swings right around that area
he doesn't swing around the buger joint, though
grabbing the door and holding it open
since he's got less to carry than the Kin
smirking a bit"I think we all stare at her ass when Decker's not looking. I'm Omega of Eagle's... but even with that I'm treated fairly, couldn't ask for more."
maybe he's a bit rambly to a total stranger
but this stranger is Family
however many times removed and halved
so he makes the best of it
cause it feels good to be around someone other than pack
especially someone that could have a sense of humor
which it seems Tristan does
he trades a couple of those bills for food
one huge Cheeeeeezeburger
one huge thing of fries
and one HUGE cokes'all good
nodding to the Kin to order
and he'll pick it up, too(Tristan)
He laughs and nods "now that's the Momma I know." He looks at the Gnawer as he muses, and nods his understanding of what isn't said. Sometimes, it's hard to go back home - even if you left under good circumstances. He flashes that grin and slides on by, briefly considering dropping a curtsy in mock thanks, but passes it up. First meetings and all - full sense of humor saved fr teh second.
Wickedly grinned.. "Then I'll be in good company. I don't think she's all ice like anyway - seems there's more walls of protection, then icelike standoffishness. Could be wrong - but it seems about right. For someone close to a german - probably needed."
Chuckles, again, and a glance at the board, and just a nod. "make that two, all the way around."
He's grateful for the ramblingness - there's often those that slide into silence to find how far removed he is, and this is Family and it has been a while for him as well. As for the sense of humor? he tries to keep it in check most times, but it still shimmers in soft brown gaze, and lingers across lips that always want to grin.
(james)
seems he comes here a lot
the burgers are worth it
and, yet again, it's a conversation by first name
but their order is filled quick enough
and soon he's leading the way to a table in the back
place is fairly empty this time of night
least they can talk without interruption"Maybe, everyone has something they protect in a certain way that works for them. She's not all that icy to me. Round three Germans and two GeeDubyas, you learn to "
course, spending eight hours in a motel room with each other day in and day out
well.... it was forced tolerance, if nothing else
but it shows that the Gnawer genuinely likes the reputed Ice Queen
she may technically be Fenrir kin, now
but it seems he considers her a part of whatever pack he's in, anywayhe inhales the food
faster than should be normal or even healthy
he grew up scrapping for every bite
and while Tristan may not be the type to steal
old habits die hard"So tell me where you been, what you're about."
he knows Tristan has traveled more than he
and while most full blood's won't give Kin the time of day beyond what's necessary
seems he respects that
and wants to learn what he can(Tristan)
He follows the Gnawler's lead to the back table, and slides into his seat, violin case set by his foot, which remains touching it at all times. Old habits die hard. He nods, chuckling a bit. "Me, I just hide behind the music when I needta - let it do all the talking for me, when I can't find the words."
He? Doesn't make slow work of his meal either. Had to scrap before, will again, and he's pretty damn hungry to boot. The question is a breath of fresh air, really, as he's run into more of the other type then most would think. Shoulders roll in a shrug, and he begins while tappin out enough ketchup to drown the fries, and then between scooping bites into his mouth, savored with the damn good burger - definately a diner that needs to be remembered.
"Well, Grew up in NYC obviously - got into that program that gives down and out kids violins in hopes of helping their grades - didn't do shit for mine, but I passed in order to keep with the music. Teachers and momma wanted me to hit juliard - I just wanted to travel. Week after graduation I set out with a backpack, and my violin, and started hitchen. Been all the way to California and most the way back again in the past three years. Best was in New Orleans - drunk partying people toss the most coin." grins "Sometimes hung with a Family, most times on my own, or with any musician I hooked up with to play for a week or two. Prefer playing streetcorners, really, closer to the admirers and all."
Lean shoulders roll in easy shrug. "I'm all about the music first. And family. Working my way back because Momma - well, she's getting on in years, really, and want to be sure to be home again before she gets too far up and forgets the niceness and remembers only the switch.(james)
he didn't ask it out of politeness
he's genuinely interested in the story
finishing off the rest of his meal in the short tale"About the way I am, up until I came here it was all about the music. Family mostly gone, no mates, few ties back home. Lived and played on the streets. It really isn't as bad as most people make it out to be."
(tristan)
nods, shrugging - and still talking between the last bites. "Not bad at all. Depends on where ya are, of course. New Orleans was great, some places in California - steer clear of the Dakota's.. they get right pissed about street performers for some reason. Made it through both states in 3 hitches it was so bad. And you'd think vegas would be good for coin - but it's not. Everyoen would rather use the slots. Where's back home?" Looks up and meets James' gaze then, almost sudden in the switch from tell to question.(james)
"Albany." switch from listening to talking just as smooth "Born and bred, fell in with some Frankenweilers when I was a cub and they took over the teachin', never made it into a proper school. Where I learned to pick up the sticks and use 'em to make money. Momma Ruggs took me in after my parents left for the War, kept me right through change and passage. Spent about year in NYC, where I met up with Momma Grace, then been here about six months. Seems Eagle's got a hold of me before I could travel too far."(tristan)
He nods, and seems he's as good a listener as talker as he watches James, finishes up the last few bites and tosses back a bit more of the HUGE coke. He grins, and leans back, running fingers through that hair in some attempt to get curls out of his eyes - an vain attempt, of course. "You make them sound like a good - if eclectic - group, the Eagles. Imogen's got the hands of a guitar player - coax her out to join ya much?" Idle curiosity of talent, this time, not about her ass. That subjects been covered (and admired) already.(james)
"Eclectic is a good way to put it." chuckled, softly "But yeh, they're a good group. Dunno what I'd do without 'em, now."he loves his pack
he probably values them more than he does himself
then his dreads shake as his head does"No, never asked her in truth."
a pen appears out of nowhere
and he's scribbling a number down on an unused napkin
sliding it over to the Kin"If you ever need anything, that's how you can get a hold of us. I'll make sure they know you're Family." the grin rakes over his features again "They'll get to me if I'm not there, for whatever reason. Nice meeting you, Tristan, I have to go take care of some stuff, though."
that's when he excuses himself
strolling right on out of the dinerPosted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 10, 2003.01.10.03. - hooligan's [rune][newark]
(james)
Meet me at Hooligan's she told him
at some time, earlier in the day
when they were both going about their own businesses
taking care of the necessaries for the trip down south
a message came through
half on Eagle's wings
half on something that's grown a level deeper
Meet me at Hooligan's she told him
so that's exactly what he's doingthe night was cold
the bar was warm
and he lingered in the door between
the chilly night wind at his back
rolling in off the derelict street
the warm controlled climate at his chest
filled with alcohol and smoke and the logrhythmic heat of bodies
they don't hush and take notice of this dramatic pause
this dreadlocked raggedy man in a pathwork quilt of a coat
they don't hush and take notice of his path to the bar
weaving in and out of the late-night drunkards and barhounds"Two beers and that bottle."
supported by two fingers held up to make sure he's clear
then pointing towards a brand new bottle on the back shelf
the bottles are taken in exchange for a handful of bucks
and two shotglasses stolen from the carefully balanced stack
and his path begins again
long strides towards the back of the dive
there's a look that makes room in one of the booths
Meet me at Hooligan's she told him
cracking open his beer, he'll wait the night if he has to(rune)
Sometime later - ten minutes, fifteen, an hour. Perhaps he has finished the beer, perhaps he has only taken the first long drag, swallowing the faintly sweet, faintly bitter, yeasty stuff - all hops and froth - from the amber bottle. Perhaps he has waited an hour, or perhaps two.Perhaps he has waited no time at all. Maybe she always knows where he is.
The crowd - drunken, derelict, warm from more than the dry heat pouring from the cranky furnace - that did not part for him, that did not hush and take notice of the raggedy man as he entered and order more than he could (ever) drink, well, now? They hush. And they still.
Women like her do not come in here. Not unless they're professionals. And even the professionals look nothing like her. Their leather is fake. Their fur, similarly synthetic. Their breasts? Likewise. Silicone or saline, sagging without the support of the wonderbra.
She's the real. fucking. thing.
And so the patrons (it's like a wave in a stadium full of drunken football fans. first one, and then another, and then another and another) stop and take .notice. Tall as a skyscraper, with legs just as looooong as they should be and the slow prowl of a predator ( - hungry - ), with inky hair sheened red once more that falls across skin as pale and luminous as the moon, with lips red as sin and a body promising the same, the patrons take notice.
And she notices not a one of them.
The door sweeps open. Some blast of frigid air follows blasting through, a fanfare to announce her arrival. The door sweeps open, and there is not even a flicker of her head. She follows an inevitable, purposeful path right to the back of the bar, right to the shadowed booth he had claimed with little more than a look, right to him. The dirty light gleams off the surface of her sunglasses ( at this time of night?) as she slips in beside him.
He would have waited the night. It wasn't necessary, after all.
(james)
others back away
others stop and .look.
others make sure the sublimely regal woman has right to pass
and he?
he sets down that beer - half finished
and does two, slow, relaxed, deliberate things
it seems he knew when she'd be there
even if a time was never told
he can feel her approach
down the block
to the doors
through the front door
packone.
reach to the unopened beer bottle
fingers smoothing a trail through the sweat clinging to glass
from the tightly glued label to the pressed on cap that should need an opener
but he just pries it off
listening to the short burst hiss of carbonation that escapes
that is set right infront of the empty space on the bench beside him
dark eyes flick upwards, peering through the thickening smoke
watching her for a stride or threetwo.
it's Jose's turn
Cuervo Gold finding it's way into the two shotglasses
liquid shimmering and catching the smokey light
one for him, and one set in place beside the waiting bottle
then those eyes look up again
seeing that final stride towards the edge of the bench
(what's a girl like her doing with a guy like him?)he doesn't move over to make room
no, he just holds up her shot to her
a grin (that grin) playing over his lips
shining deep within his eyes(rune)
Well. Is that a challenge?He doesn't move over to make room for her. Not now. Not yet. He just holds up the gleaming liquid to the smokey light. She does not touch him. Not now, not yet. She does not invade his spaces and shove him to the side. She does not claim her place beside (above, beneath) him (it's a little public here, for that, isn't it?).
The shot glass, plucked from his hand, fingertips (finger .nails.) grazing his flesh, but only just - some half-suggestion of a caress (i can tear you apart) in the quicksilver movement.
Her wrist flexes, lifting the shot glass to the light, to the ceiling, and the night sky and the moon - crescent cool - beyond, a toast to she-who-made them, a toast to she-who-imbues them with that which drives them, and down the hatch it goes.
It's then that she invades his space. It's then that she bends her leg (leather pulling tight with the flexion of muscle beneath skin beneath the second skin) and settles her knee on the bench seat, sliding until she makes contact with his thigh. That's a smile spreading across her fuck-me-red mouth, by turns suggestive, by turns sly.
"Move over." The sunglasses reflect his gleaming dark eyes, and reveal nothing. Oh, but he knows what lies beneath. "Or I'm going to sit on your fucking lap, and who the hell knows what will happen then?"
(james)
he watches her take the glass
(oh, the promise of nails)
he watches her toast the shot
(oh, the reverence they hold deep within)
he watches her slam it down her throat
(oh, the things that hide within that smile)
he watches her come into slow contact with his thigh
(ooh... my....)there's a grin that spreads
it's for the acceptance of that offered challenge
it's hungry and thirsty and all those things inbetween
it speaks what he will never say to her aloud
No.
one hand moving to push the table towards the opposite bench
the other reaching to wrap in the fine (genuine) leather of her coat
outright pulling her across and onto his lapand that hand stays wrapped in her clothing
the other snagging his shot on its return path
it's held in the space between them
as he watches his reflection in her sunglasses
he doesn't take the shot as smoothly as she
it burns its way down his throat
and it shows in the furrow of his brow
the slight squint that begets a smile
shy at first, but soon enough, the half-sneer returns"I've a pretty good idea."
(rune)
"Liar." she says, and she's laughing. She's laughing and she's grinning, and she's leaning closer and her face - with all its contrasts, moon pale and inky black and red red red, like the frames of a black and white movies splashed with crimson, highlighted in blood. "I think you're a fucking liar."Her knees have settled tight around his hips (he pulled her. she did not resist) and her long, muscular thighs hug and then cross his own, and the black leather pants are stretched so damn tight now that they gleam and strain against the curving flesh beneath.
"And you didn't finish your fucking drink."
She's hungry. He doesn't have to see her eyes to see the darkness contained within, the want, the need for release in his arms (and though she will not - and though she will never - think it, no other will do). He does not need to see it, because he can feel it, the tension that sizzles through her body like St. Elmo's fire, the heat that burns through her flesh. The shot glass reflects her features, distorted and oblong, the last drop of tequila is red-gold, some technicolor sunset, where it catches and refracts the light.
"I guess I'll have to do that for you."
Her fingers find his hair. Her thumb stretches to smooth the furrow from his brow. And she dips her head (black hair spilling fine across her cheek, like individual strands of silk, gleaming a dull black-red in the smokey light), capturing the rim of the shot glass between dull white incisors, tongue snaking out from between parted lips to steal the very last drop of tequila from the cool concave surface below.
Greedy.
(rune)
"I." snarled
"Never." smiled
"Lie." sneered across those red, red, wicked red lipsher fingers find his hair
her thumb smooths the furrow from his brow
and he's settled comfortably with boots on the other bench
angle of his thighs keeping her snugly against him
as if he could make her back off anywayhe.... can't help the slight stare at her finishing his drink
(oh. my. god.)
nor the smile that spreads as her tongue slips back between her lips
the animalistic craving that feeds off the energy vibrant about her form
(that's so. damned. close.)the salt was already on the table
it was waiting for him as he sat
and now, he takes one hand and plucks the shaker on up
not yet daring to pull against the hold in his dreads
the other hand wraps firm around her wrist
about the thick leather sleeve and the silk beneath
squeezing and pushing at the same time to expose her flesh belowthat's when he pulls against her hand
turning his head to lick the inside of her wrist
then sprinkling the salt across cooling saliva
and pouring another two shotsthe grin turns into a wicked little sneer
and the sneer turns into a slow little lick
and the lick turns into a quick drink
and the drink... well... he neglected the limes
so instead of green, he captures red instead
claiming a tequila flavored (greedy) kiss(rune)
He - muscular thighs angled just so - holds her snug. She - knees tightening, hips twisting - slides closer still, until she can feel his heart beat in the cage of his chest, a rising, rapid rhythm that mirrors the thrumming pace of her own pulse. The shiver - some frission of awareness, elemental, atomic, nuclear - that rises like jagged lightning up her spine is translated through silk and leather and cotton and skin, her reaction (his mouth, her wrist, the vulnerable pulse beneath, the forward thrust of goddamned life, heady, certain, wanton in the vein) translated and transmitted by every minute movement of her body against his.
"Liar." So very .contrary. she.So very contrary, she asserts and resists, resists and asserts in a breathless half-growl, in a moment stolen from the midst of his kiss. The sound vibrates in her chest, spills into his mouth, burning like the tequila he so recently devoured.
There's enough salt left on his lips. There's enough salt left on his tongue. There's enough salt on his skin. She doesn't bother with the shaker.
Hell, she doesn't bother with the shot. That's the bottle of Cuervo in her hand, the label obscured by the long lean fingers wrapping around the cold hard glass. And that's the bottle between them, interposing just enough that he cannot quite feel the rise and fall of curving flesh against his chest, that he is left to sense the movement by tiny shifting thermals that ricochet between them.
How much does she drink (the kiss, broken, her head tossed back, blunt ends of dark hair spilling back to dance across her shoulder blades) when the bottle is tossed back and the fiery liquid allowed to flow, unchecked? One shot, or two. Two shots, or three, all at a go. Enough so that her eyes (in the middle of all this, her glasses tumble off, crash unheeded aside) water from the burn, or shine with something else entirely, when at last they meet his own.
"If you're not careful," the slurred words spill across his cheek as her mouth finds its way back to his skin. Subdural, subdermal, just beneath the skin, the animal that she is snaps, and her teeth graze the flesh of his jaw. "I might have to fuck you right here."
(james)
there's a sound, low in his chest
even though they don't quite touch
she can feel it as much as hear it
some growl that throbs deeper than even the bass coming out of the old speakers
it's animal
it's greedy
it's showing how his threads of control are unravelingdoes he even want to be in control anymore?
the way his boots slam back onto the ground - yes
the way he turns into the graze of teeth against his jaw - yes
the way his hands grasp her waist and pull - yes
the way her weight settles now firm against him - oh, yes"Oh?"
it's a question and a challenge wrapped up into one neat package
hands climbing up the back of her coat
both finding way to tangle fingers in the silken inky strands of her hair
his grip tightens, so bold and demanding
tilting her skull, slowly lifting her jaw
forcing the exposure of her throat to his whims
but instead of touch - there's the sudden flood of scalding breath
chilled mercilessly as he inhales, sucking in the taste of scents rolling off her flesh
then once again, the cruel reversal of heat spilling on exhaled sigh"I wouldn't complain."
the entire bar probably wouldn't object to the show
he knows how it affects her
the atomic shiver coiling
the elemental tremble quaking
the nuclear explosion imminent
and right at the breaking point
he releases her
the door to the animal's cage is lifted
leaving only the single body in rampaging path
knowing very well the danger that may be unleashed(rune)
He won't complain. The rest of the patrons would not object. Even now, they're watching, stealing furtive glances over their own sullen reflections in the rippling surface of whatever rotgut liquid they're consuming. They would not object, no, but they cannot quite look, either, can they?Not the way she - released - devours him. Tornados have less elemental force, and tigers have been known to attack their prey with less fury. It was, perhaps, the moment that she was coiled there - head canted back by the force of his grip, hair twisted 'round strong fingers, the long white length of her throat exposed not to some delicious devouring ravage of tooth and lip and tongue, but merely to the cruel tidal tease of his fucking breath - desire coiled within her like a compressed spring. How long has it been? How long ( - duty calls - ) be before they can be along again.
And so she doesn't answer his challenge, not in so many words, at least. Words are futile things, fripperies, useless little trappings of civilization ( - she's speaking, somehow, but those words? are hardly civilized, and only for his ears. fuck you uttered in the middle of a bout of throaty, growling laughter is only the beginning of it - ) that mean precisely nothing now.
How did she divest herself of her goddamned clothing - (It's a tricky business, that, and the details are sketchy, some impressionistic collision of muscled bodies and grasping hands - her on his - and all the trouble with buttons and zippers and fastenings and hips twisting to peel leather - and then cotton - from skin.) - and does it matter so much once it's gone?
(Challenge. Answered.)
Even now they cannot look, the bums and the drunks and the bleary-eyed businessmen who stumbled into the bar for a drink and maybe a blowjob from the old hooker who hangs out at the end of the bar. Even now they cannot quite look, full-on, for the animalsoulstuff is shining (fucking shining) through their skin. Even now (her hands twisted in his hair, her devouring mouth, the white curve of her thighs settled around his hips and the bare pale expanse of her own - perfect, perfect - in such exquisite rhythm with his) they cannot quite stare at the animals uncaged, unleashed before their eyes.
They cannot look the way they want to look, they cannot stare boldly, they cannot devour the view, not the way she devours him.
(james)
they can't look
they shouldn't lookto look wouldn't be safe
there is nothing safe between them
there is nothing untouchable
there is nothing holy
except, maybe, the power that suddenly ignites between
it's the righteous thunder of lust (and love) unleashed beneath the challenge
it's something they dare not admit
because the simple act of words confines and destroys
perhaps, unspoken, what it weilds is far greaterhow does she peel the leather - and cotton - from her skin?
he doesn't think about it, he doesn't care
it's the furoius flurry of fingers and buttons and zippers
and the sudden volcanic explosion of skin touching skinshe may do what she can to get closer and lower against him
his hands have fallen, to find her hips
and her weight, once pulled, is now pushed and lifted
the table rattling beneath the force of their collision against it
one shotglass tilts to the side and rolls until tumbling to bounce on the filthy ground
Gold liquor falls to splatter and spread across the table
again, it's nothing that he noticeshe's focused completely on her
and the way he spreads her across the tablehis body surges up to cover hers
flat planes of chest against heaving curves
pinning her across the scarred and abused wood
long trenchcoat tails falling to the call of gravity
covering what some call divine (and others call sin)
her legs wrapping up around his waist
his mouth once more finding and outright violating red, red, wicked lips
there's no more challenging words between them
only heavy breath and grunted growling moan
and the rhytmic slam of table against the wall
and the utter tandem consumption of two Warrior's soulsPosted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 07, 2003.01.07.03. - know a good one? [decker-dire-aurora-erik-jonathan][north jersey]
(james)
it's.... just one of those days
not quite like a freight train
maybe a half-way respectable car crash
or something
whatever it isit's got his shoulders stiff as steel beneath the trench
it's got that easy walk a little more assertive
it's got dreads flipflopping down his back with each step
it's got his Rage coasting along before him like a streetsweeperjust walkin' along
minding his own business
really(aurora st james)
"Things were not so hospitable in the South and I made a promise to someone to go."Asshole. Oh there's a lot of aggression there. Be smart and hold that back, be a good kin? Hell no! Another hard look and she offers that taunting smile once more.
"If you'll excuse me, Jonathan. I've better company to keep."
No, self preservation means squat. She's definitely not happy, turning to go with Dire.
(frank)
Muscle contractions rack the midsection of the man, crumpling his once spread-eagle form inward and upward, like a blackened matchstick. The bum's yawning pupils pulled tight, pulled into focus. The sky shrunk back down to actual size, and Frank was suddenly aware of just where he was.The only reminder of the previous tremors registered as little more than the lingering static of tiny claws scratching, numberless and patient.
(jonathan)
~He nods~ Indeed I'm sure you do...~He looks to Dire and nods a moment~ Still, we are family.....and family doens't abandon one another....I'll be around, if you need me....~He doens't wait for a response, or anything, he returns to his seat, reading~(decker)
And then there were two.Out of some little sidestreet, out of some little alley comes comes another. A packmate, dropping into easy stride beside the first. There's no word of greeting, and there don't need to be no word of greeting. Hands in the back pockets of his oversized denims, cuffs scuffing the pavement, the Modi moves along beside the Gnawer.
Bad mood?
Don't say a thing. Don't need to say a thing.(michele tarrant)
Writing something down in the notebook, she looks up thoughtfully and chews on her pencil.(eleanor chambers)
The salt stained yellow taxi slices out of traffic and pulls up to the gum stained curve. The back door opens before it has even finished coming to its abrupt halt, a young woman spilling out with a marked haste. She scarcely has time to pluck a few handful of bills and toss them into the back seat before she slams shut the door. Stumbling a few steps back, she rescues her blobbish blue canvas rough sack from the broken concrete and shoulders it while turning to get moving. Well worn, well loved hiking boots are biten by broken glass and gravel. The young woman, black swathed in her dark wool overcoat, wears a thoughtful expression as she marks and murmers the names of establishments along the roadside.(dire)
*he turns to walk out with the gal on the crutches. Sniffs the air and turns. Seeing frick and frack appraching he nods. They probly felt that earthquake a half hour ago and were out patrolling their turf. Could be intresting to watch them handel the coggie.*(tristan)
Another day, another dollar. A room secured for tonight, at least, it's time to play for his supper once more. Backpack left in said room, finds him in jeans, sweater and warm overcoat, a knit cap trying to contain corkscrew curls that escape over brow and fall into his eyes reguardless.
In his hand, of course, the violin case - something he never leaves behind, anywhere, anytime.
A likely streetcrner found where tehre is some foot traffic, and he falls into easy crouch, opening the case on the ground, and takes off the full gloves, replacing them with the fingerless variety before he lovingly picks up the violin and bow.
He stands, and after a moment, and a quick check of tuning, strong chin is situated on the rest, lifted, and hair under the cap shoved back a bit, chin takes the rest once more and the bow is drawn across the strings.
Soft, and low, it begins, then swells and soon the song is weaving it way on the winds of winter from talented fingers.(james)
there's a glance
those eyes rich and dark as Gaia's pure earth slide over towards the Modi
that's when earth and sky meet - storm grey sky
maybe his chin lifts up in a nod
or maybe that's just the swing of his gaitUnexplainably
though with the sudden apparence of pack
shoulders relax a little beneath patchwork quilt that counts for a jacket
and maybe the pace changes
it doesn't slow, by any means
stride simply devouring the sidewalk
but it changes, just enough
just enough to know
(pack is good)
but whatever it is, the two walk on in silence(michele)
Just as her eyes catch on Decker and her eyebrows go up, she hears a violin being put to music. She perks up, and starts looking around, like a meercat, trying to find the source of the music.(aurora)
It was a lot colder here, that was for sure. But the cold is welcome, snapping at that heat in her, that makes her want to scream sometimes. Dire probably wondered about that, might have made the leap as to what Tribe she could nominally claim as blood, if she ever would. Outside a deep breath, steadying, and a sigh."Sorry Dire. Long story."
(dire)
*He nods* No prob. Wanna watch something funny?(aurora)
"I could use a good laugh right about now."He at least didn't grate her nerves raw.
(tristan)
As he plays, long lashes (girlylashes) slide lower, and he sways with the music he plays. Classical for now, with all the intricasies of the most difficult pieces flowing with ease from talented fingertips. as he moves with the music, toe tapping in time he is not completely ignorant of what goes on around him... of what he feels around him. Nods to those who stop, smiles at those who drop coinage into the case, and a wink for a pretty girl.
And still the music plays on.(dire)
*he nods* hang tight.*He waits till Decker and James near and he raises his chin in a greeting. Then nods to Decker. Apperently seeing them hoth as equals and Decker as his better* Decker, James. * he nods* Felt the tremor? * He waits a moment and looks though the window of O'Tollys* Got a coggie inside acting all big in your turf. Was gonna give you a call. But here ya are.
(frank)
Wake up. It says, with precidented singularity. A sudden, needful clarity. Frank eyes slid toward the light at the end of the tunnel--err, alleway and strained to adjust. He rolled from tailbone to feet on a crooked axis and listened hard.Diesel. The scent and sound of a city-owned truck rumbled at the far end of the alley, and the smeared echoes of exhaust pipe faded in their own turn.
(michele)
She jumps off her car and walks toward the music, glancing at Dire, Decker, James and Aurora as she passes them, recognizing the tattoo on Dire's brow. But there's too many of them. She smiles lsightly and continues on toward Tristan, to join the group of listeners.(eleanor)
Smokers mits protect her hands from the worst of the winter's cold, whose fingers pluck and hold a small scrap of paper. A small bit of writing, a scribble of blue ink scores the small leaflet and her eyes pass over unrecognizeable shapes trying to decipher the code written by a hand at three in AM. Turning it upside down does not help.An exhale of sharp breath, a mist trickles past her lips. She frowns, though thoughtfully and with only a small edge of frustration yet and absently adjusts the thick, blue cotton tuque that tucks her dark brown hair about her face. Her asian shaped eyes read the street numbers and names and yet still nothing seems familiar. Damnit. There's always the chance to ask for directions, she surmizes, finding herself admist the constant flow of occasional passersby and all of the chaos they create.
(aurora)
Just listens, almost smiling. The way Dire acted, thse could only be. . . yeah, obviously can't seem to avoid them. But Jonathan or Dire? Easy choice for her right now. Standing some, getting her crutches all arranged under her, she wondered what they would do. If it had been Les Mis things would be bloody at least.(dire)
*he smiles to the passing Michele. It's been a good 24 hours for him so far.*(decker)
It's his city shoes today, the skecher knock-offs. Scuffed and worn already, and only a month old at most. He's got a car but gasoline is expensive, and anyway Rune bought the damn car. Decker likes to think of himself as self-sufficient. A loner in a pack. Something like that.Eh? - a prompt for more information, as they cover ground: James and his tireless stride; Decker and his thug's sway. Their eyes move over their surrounding, one scoping the left, the other the right.
Perfect. Unplanned. Synchrony.
Packmates.It's probably unfortunate for Dire that Decker's got good ears. Real. Fuckin'. Good ears. A blondish eyebrow goes up. Gunmetal grey eyes bear down on the Skald, and then swing in to glance through the window. A grunt.
A growl, almost, as those eyes flick back to Dire. "'N this is funny ...how?"
You can take a girl like Aurora out of the South, but you can't take the South out of a boy like Decker. Mobile, Alabama is stamped deep into his words: a low contemptuous lazy slur.
(dire)
*he srugs* Sweatin' a kin. * he nods to Aurora* She's gonna help us look into that shit in the barrens. That guy bothers her fer some reason. * he srugs* Never seen him before m'self.
*He nods and looks to James* How you been man?(tristan)
Play on, play on, play on. The music shifts, slightly after a few moments to a slightly faster pace, just warming up though it is still calming - perhaps it sooths the savage beasts - of which there seems to be many, prickling feeling up his spine as rage thickens... down the way we have the Soft Core Porn King, with another girl - wonder if he used the same line on her? And further, the stalking skulking angry one with someone else. Their walk watched, disected, noticed, before he glances again to his listeners.
Michelles approch seen, he offers her a wink, and simply continues playing.(james)
maybe what was said to him the other day got to him
and it settled and seeded and grew over the past hours
finally blooming into a fairly nasty (especially for the mellow Gnawer) mood
maybe the trembler triggered it
they always said when the earth moves it makes animals uneasy
and maybe it got to the animal in him just beggin' to get out
he doesn't answer the mental query for more
now's not the time"Dire."
flat
but at least without hostility towards the Skald
finally pulling up to a stop then glancing just where it's indicated
that's about when the violin's sweet solo symphany reaches his ears
and oddly, that, too, seems to bring a change in his demeanor
music and the savage beast, and all
or maybe it's just appreciation for another street performer
but regardless, it's back to O'Tolley's his attention goes
not his call, but the Modi doesn't even need to be told what he thinks of it
that grin crawling over his features, well, not exactly the normal warm one"Just.... peachy."
(Michele)
Her body wants to dance to the violin music, but she can't. So used to heavy beats of techno, she's lost the grace of classical. But she still enjoys the music, just because it's music, and that is good.(aurora)
She preferred anonymous, really she did. Wanted nothing to do with Jonathan. Would rather be far from here. She'd even take samples, just for somewhere else to be. Face looking from Decker to James wary but not hostile. Just tired and sick. . leave her alone.(ra'gon)
Bundled against the extreme. His thickest blue jacket shielding him from the worse of the cold city breeze. His short dirty brown hair wisps in the wind, his nose red and chapped. Hands gloved in woolen mits. Scarf blowing against his neck threating to slip away into the wind. He steps besides the shorter chilled Eleanor. Sniffling once then twice before his teeth chatter. "Excuse me" His tongue rang in an off contienant way. "Im looking for....23rd Street? Can you point me the way?"(eleanor)
A chord of violin music lingers upon the air; just a hint, a thought, a memory stirred between the drone of cars and complaints. The merest thought of familiarity, that quiet hopefuly tangeant of some direction disappears as Eleanor is approached. At five foot one (the one grace of the soles of her boots), the small young woman glances back and to the left and finds herself staring at a lost Arctic Expedition. A delicate brow lifts as her eyes give him a brief glance over. She adjusts her roughsack before answering, her red tipped nose wrinkling. "No, I am sorry," she answers, forgetting to keep her pronounced Native accent in check. "I am a little lost myself right now," she says, peering again at her little scrap of illegible paper.(decker)
The Modi tips his chin up a notch. Dire's the taller of the two by a good two inches or three, but Decker had a way of looking down his nose at everyone and everything. It's the thug life. It's the trailertrash life. Playing the facade is half the game.A few moments tick by, and the silent grey stare goes on and on.
Finally: "Thanks fer the tip."
(sigh of relief--?)
"But quit tryin' to play me like yer attack dog. You got," glance at Aurora, "girl problems with him, you take care o' it yerself. Understand?"Another look for Aurora, longer, scrutinizing. Finally, "Sup." Then he glances at his packmate. Check it out?
(tristan)
Eyes settle on Michele for a moment, and sees the sway and the enjoyment, and perhaps even the wish to dance. but the music remains the same for now, the softer strains of purity that speaks of years of training - odd to find him here on a street corner, with lovingly cared for instrement and worn clothing.(erik)
Following senses that never err, a disheveled young man walks casually down the street. His eyes sway back and forth, taking in his surroundings with fevered intensity, and warding away the sheep the same. From blocks away the crowd can be seen to part around him...(frank)
There were a number of things wrong from his perspective--from the bottom to the top. The facts were each pricking at his brain, spread out with the time and inaccuracy of a drive-by-shooting. Things like......music. Frostbite. Anger primordial. The even clop of high heeled shoes. Smell of french fry grease...
But solutions were rare in Frank's line work, falling far behind the progress of antagonism and its ilk. Things like escape routes and lead pipes were always more appealing than pinpointing the linchpin source of what was going down in Northern Jersey.
(dire)
Ain't tryin to play you. Just thought it'd be intrestin' This is your turf and all. I ain't got problems with the guy at all.(james)
there's a slight lift of brows
his head tilting in thought
Would depend on how he's sweatin' the kin
he's still deceptively quiet
next comes a glance back down the street
the crowd parting like a living, breathing, bloody red sea
if nothing else, ever, James is attuned to his pack
.... incoming.(aurora)
"And whatever misguided thought you have, I am no one's girl."Heat, with those hard eyes. Contrasts contrasts. Quickly flowing back to just cold and wary though. Meeting his eyes as he looks to her. No fear in her, no instinct to fear garou. What hurt her? Whats new?
(ra'gon)
"Shit" He manages through another chatter and expulsion of fridged breath. "I have a map" Continuing with, while revealing with a tug of his hand from his bulky jacket pocket one of those cheap gas station illamination maps. "Maybe we can aid each other." Chuckles as he offers her the map he possessed. "You know what street we are on perhaps?" His eyes sqwinting around to steal a quick glance "I thought I was on...." Halting as his eyes focus on a nearby sign "I am so lost"(decker)
Steel grey irises around black pupils: barrels of a gun swinging back to Dire. A beat."Uh huh, whatever."
And then there were three: Erik, swimming through the parting crowd (lions through zebraflesh). Decker half-turns to watch the Alpha approach, and his mind reaches to James.
Ask 'er. Best you, not me. Obvious reasons. Decker's barbwire rage frightened and irritated by turns, but never soothed.
(dire)
*he srugs. Falls silent. His eyes looking around. Seeing the other approach a blond brow raises. He watches. *(erik)
Once he comes close enough to see the face behind his long, oily, black hair, a face that would make his mother blanch, if she was still alive. This guy's ugly. No, not ugly, but oogly. Damn. Twisted nose, broken several times, two scars marring his face. One of them, long and thin, begins on his forhead and runs down past his mouth, drawing it into a permanent sneer, and down further still, dissapearing underneath the shirt. The other, short and very thick, runs parallel to it, down the other side of his face. Whatever made it also took a piece of his cheekbone. What an ugly fuck. All that is made worse by his bright, too bright eyes. And he makes his way right for Decker and James, and whoever that is they're talking to.(james)
...fair enough"Okay Dire, details."
(jonathan)
~After paying his bill, Jonathan emerges on the street, out of O'Tolleys. He is dressed in black jeans, a forest green sweater, and his doc martins complete the outfit. He is still reading his New England Journal of medicine, as he adjusts the green book bag over his shoulder. He scratches the back of his head as he reads~(tristan)
And then... there were more.
The seas are parting up the way and there's a lift of a brow, seems the cousins were all congragating near tonight - and in quite the tizzy. The tension winds another knot at the base of his spine, but he just transfers that to the bow and strings. sweet sounds shift and weave and twist and quicken, fingers moving with syncronicity and limberness of daily practice over many years.(aurora)
He emerges and she stiffens. Not hard when one leg is already fairly stiff and injured. Does not look at him. No, she was not going there, not now. Her stomach hurt again dammit. Only orange juice in there and pills. . she could use that inside instead of revisting it.(eleanor)
Ra'gon's approach doesn't appear to be invited. It's very pronounced, her stepping away as he offers the map. Automation places a smile upon her lips, polite and dishonest. "No, thank you," says she, shoulders up in defense despite efforts to keep it from showing. The young woman turns her dark eyes down and away from the man, finding some solace in pretending to discover her direction. "I am going to be late. Best of luck!" she adds, her tone just a little too friendly to be anything but a dismissive lie.(michele)
Quarters are getting closer as more people stand to listen to Tristan. She allows them to stand close enough to brush shoulders, avoids eye contact with them. She keeps one eye on the group of large men, and another on the group of people she's in.(dire)
Best I can piece together The kin warned them of imminate danger to a sept. They didn't fuckin' listen to her and the sept fell. She's here now. And that dude is too. They didn't want her help when the shit hit the fan and she could have and they lost. Ths dude just showed up and wanted to wax poetic about old times and shit. Needless ta say she ain't too keen on that. * He srugs. That was the short and sweet of it* She's a ecologist and stuff. I asked and she agreed to help us to look into the shit in the Barrens so the same thing don't happen here.After getting treated like shit before. I thought that mighty nice of her
(ra'gon)
Recapturing her hastely retreating form with an expression of 'huh?'. Shakes his head with a chuckle and peers down once again to his map to resume those moments of bewilderment.(decker)
Erik made James and Decker look like prettyboys. Not that they were anything like pretty. Look at those hard high cheekbones, those solid jaws. Not to mention the heavy knuckles, perfect for smashing someone's jaw back to their brain. Soft little prettyboys, they were not.Mind touches mind. Erik gets all the details he needs, and an additional addendum after Decker hears the tale: Ain't soundin' worth our asskickin' time to me.
(ra'gon)
Recapturing her hastely retreating form with an expression of 'huh?'. Shakes his head with a chuckle and peers down once again to his map to resume those moments of bewilderment.(tristan)
Picked a hella time to come back north, didn't he? it's cold as fuck and hands are kept warm only by constant movement and the pure love of the music. However, even hear, quaters rain and people give and stand in the cold to listen to one lone man with a talent that surpasses his circumstances.
By choice - but they don't know that, do they?
Music swells to crecendo, and then the last note is held high and sweet for a long (everlasting) moment... before bow comes from strings and he takes a bow and grins at those around and at the smattering of applause. "thank you, thank you.."
Well worn boots kick a stray quarter that fell short of the case toward it with a smile, as he stretches hise neck, and fingers a moment before hair that has escaped is tucked back under knit cap, and he turns to Michele.. "Any request?" question for them all - but eyes rest on her....(erik)
Thirty feet... twenty... ten... and he is there, taking a position between Decker and James with a nod to both and no greeting to anyone else, though he does have something to say... "Well, Dire, sounds like she's all yours then."Yeah, we got better things to do.
(james)
he listens, taking all this in
there's a bit of a nod that takes dreads on a journey over shoulders
(he should really get them cut again)
dark eyes sweeping over to watch the kin
then Jonathan slipping onto the street"Mighty nice indeed." there's a bit of a shrug, next "Sounds like he's more just inconsiderate, and wouldn't it be an asshole of me to stick my nose in history where it doesn't belong. Most I could do is question why he's here and hasn't paid his respects to the guy that runs the ship." that would be the guy walking up on them, how convenient. "And I'm sure you're able to pass the message along, too, Dire."
yea, you want in this pack
bust your ass, Get boy
see if you can do good enough(dire)
Those were my thoughts too. 'Swhy I was exiting with her instead of sayin' anything myself. I was gonna look yall up to do that. And here you are. Lucky me.(michele)
She had been about to turn away, getting bored with the crowd, though not the music. But a question, directed at her. That causes her to pause, brush the blonde hair that creeps out from under her ski-hat from her face and meet the musician's eyes. Her brown eyes aren't normal, but it's hard to pinpoint what it is. Maybe just that they look hungry."I really don't know any songs you could play on that."
(joanathan)
~Jonathan puts the magazine away, and begins to ruffle in his book bag a moment, before securing it and heading off towards the direction fo the group, his eyes looking about the area~(decker)
Erik steps into the fray and Decker, no longer the ranking member of the ruling pack in the area with all them fuckin' responsibilities, shuts his mouth up again. Didn't like to talk much, Decker. Didn't do it unless he had to. He takes a step back from the little huddle, angry grey eyes scoping out the street once more, picking out the people out in the parking lots of the strip malls and the mass-produced pseudo-rich boutiques.North Jersey's an urban sprawl, planned and cultivated to the hilt. And right smack in the middle of it is Decker, born in the Alabama backwater trailer parks, livin' the street thug life these here days.
Fishes a joint out of his pocket. Happy meds or some such shit. Cups his hands over the tip, lights that fucker on up while he listens in.
(aurora)
Did not want a confrontation. God, thats all things ever ended up being with garou. She just wanted to get better, sit under the radar. And because the confrontation would Jonathan would not be pretty. Dire didn't know that story. . few did. She, Billy, and Jeff had kept that secret."Look, I don't want a big thing. I just wanted to go."
(michele)
She pauses, an evil little smirk on her face."Or maybe I do... But you might not... Do you know filk song called... Lycanthropy?"
(dire)
*He Nods to Erik. Srugs. Like he said. Personally he didn't have a prolem with the guy. Technically he wasn't pack yet. It was their territory. If they didn't care that was their biz.He nods to Aurora* It's cool. Lets go.
* He Nods Respectfully to Erik, Then decker. Gies James a wave and taps Aurora's bag aginst his leg and turns to go the way they were going
(james)
Alabama backwater
Albany slums
... and... wherever the hell Erik was from
weren't they just the tag team from hell
hooo lordy
they fit right in
Rune's probably the only one of them that looks like she belongs here
but she ain't here with them right now, is she
and from somewhere, he pulls an easy smile for Aurora"Doesn't look like it's going to be a big thing."
...yet.
here comes the devil himself, it seems"But thanks for the heads-up."
(tristan)
A laugh, low and rich, and he tips the bow at her.. "you, m'lady, would be surprised what I can wring out of this thing. You learn a little bit of everything when you travel as much as I do. You looked ike you needed something with a bigger beat, hm?"
A nod, a wink, and bow is drawn across strins agian.. Something warm, from down south, with just that added touch of down home do-se-doh that gives it a livelyness thats hard not to at least tap your foot along with.
A pause... and a grin as she speaks again... and that gets actual laughter.
"You know what - way down kentucky way, I happened across a guy who tought me that. Small world, and all..."
And with a wink, he starts to play a folksy tune that is oh so very fitting for the surroundings. Is it what she requested? or was simply the knowledge he knows what she sought.. either way, play on, play on, play on.(decker)
Decker's right in the middle of a jumbosized hit. A swallowed cough before his normally low southern tones come out a bit strained-like - "Later Dire."Then he holds the joint out to James and Erik. Not that Erik looked like the time to suck down a bong. To the Alpha, "He brought me by a bottle o' Johnny Walker Blue Label last night. Still got a quarter left in my truck. Y' want it?"
And on the deeper level of communication - Want me to go talk to Mr. Coggie, 'r want our PR man to go?
PR man would be James.
(dire)
* A nod to Decker. Clear he still wasn't being let in yet and he didn't wanna piss um off. Aurora wanted to go. No need getting into a thing and mayby fuckng up his chances so he walks with her*
to James: *He gives James a nod to his words to. Just didn't seem to fit in there ... * scraches head))(erik)
Slums. Yes, dispite the Alpha's familiarity with and comfort in the woods, he could never belong anywhere else than a slum. Born and raised deep in wyrm country... Inner City Detroit...Sniffs the air.
Turns his head slowly, dire and woman forgotten, to stare at Decker.
He sniffs again. Twice.
His silence stretches... Is the Modi about to get a lecture? 'Garou shouldn't do marijuana'? type thing?
Is he about to rant on and on about the poisons of the wyrm, both physical and metaphysical?
Uhh, no... "Damn, man, don't you bogart that shit from -me-"
(michele)
She grins and sings along with the folksy tune, the words depicting the humorous trials and tribulations of being the lover of a werewolf.(joanathan)
~He looks over to Michele and Tristan, and odd tune, none the less, and shakes his head a moment before continuing on towards where Erik, Decker, and James are gathered~(michele)
"Lycanthropy. My love suffers from lycanthropy. It's a rare disease. You can wake up with fleas when you lay down with a werewolf."(tristan)
She starts to sing, and he follows along, making sure he doesn't overplay her voice - which is very nice. emotion wrung from well loved violin with ease and devilish glee... perhaps they listen, perhaps they don't, perhaps only he and Michele, in their shared amusement get the joke.(aurota)
A nod for James. He'd smiled, she wasn't feeling up for that. But at least a nod. He was alive. A glance at the others. Erik was downright noteworthy. Then back to Dire, moving slowly. Its winter. She's on crutches. Not a fast walker at the moment."Thanks."
(dire)
*He nods to her as they walk. Him going slow for her. His predatory grace seeming somehow riened* No problem.(decker)
A smirk curls across the Modi's cruel mouth. The stretch of his arm shifts a notch, holding the joint out closer to Erik than James."This's Rune's shit," tacked on like some sort of quality stamp - which it was. "Y' want the fuckin' Blue 'r not?" 'Cause if he didn't, Decker was gonna get Imogen drunk as a fish and about as w...
...heh.
(michele)
"Lycanthropy, has made a bloody wreck of me. Pass my tablets please. Fur always makes me sneeze. That's what I get for living with a werewolf."(ra'gon)
The bundled bewildered and bemused stumbles away sorting through the mass confused. Arriving on another street, another corner, finding neither solace or comfort his eyes roam again to the left and to the right. There spotting Decker afar. His upper lips curls into a snarl. Stepping back and ducking his head low into the colar confines of his jacket he crosses the street away from the Fenrir's avenue of traffic.(james)
okay, that sounds familiar
and the tune catches his attention once more
a glance afforded the violinist and his accompanyist
but it's breif
bewteen the importance of pack
and the pull of dope
.... well.you can bet he's not passing up his turn
but Erik, always, gets first (r.h.i.p.)
he's staying silent until told to be otherwise
PR man... right.(aurora)
"Thats not why Jonathan and I don't see eye to eye Dire. iTs a bit more complex."Quiet, talking under her breath to him at her side as they walk. Her SUV isn't that far.
(dire)
*he nods and his brows rise* He try and claim you or somethin'? * He walks with her. His voice low too.*(tristan)
Dark eyes positively twinkle with the amusment deep within as he continues to play the perfect counter to her voice, his gaze flicking over the crowd, over to the motley crew down the way, and the glance seen, chuckle born rich once more as he returns his gaze to Michele.(michelle)
The song continues one more verse. something about looking cute in his BVDs and having to pay 15 bucks for a license.(eriK)
He takes the doob and inhales like a million others would. No special ragabash toke magic or anything, then passes it on to James."Yeah. Let the Kid do it, and keep the whiskey Deck. It's cool"
In the act of passing a doobie, he notices Jonathan approaching and shoots him the fanatic stare that always, always sends the sheep the other way.
(jonathan)
~Jonathan notices Erik, and meets his stare full on, not stopping to turn back, but continues towards them~(tristan)
He brings the song to a rolicking finish and lets the last note (s'what I get for living with a werewolllllllfffffff) hang for a long moment, before bow is pulled from strings and he nods with that boyish grin.. "Very nice - you've got a great voice. Doesn't she folks?" Glanced around as more coinage rains, and he kicks those that miss closer to the case.
A nod from her to the case - it's part her's now, share and share alike, she can take what she wants or needs.(aurora)
"Christ no!"That idea somehow so patently absurd to her she could almost laugh. Almost.
"No, I hated his mate, and he blames me for his lost child."
(dire)
Ahh.... Did ya do it? * no condemnation in his voice. Just curiosity*(james)
well, that takes care of that, doesn't it
he takes the joint, and his hit
and doesn't do anything to fuck up the rotation
sliding it on to Decker
sliding that gaze back to Jonathan
and somewhere, somehow, sliding a grin back onto his face
real easy grin, comfortable, all that"Evenin'."
let's hear it for Cyrano.
michele)
Smiling, she shakes her head."Got my own income."
(aurora)
"Kill a child? Do you think I'm sick?!"The secret. No one would likely have believed her, least of all Jonathan. He loved Eleanor. Billy had believed, as had Jeff.
"Eleanor shifted during a battle, to protect me and herself. She was posing as kin. She's not. She posed as my Tribe. I couldn't forgive it."
(tristan)
He tips his head, a nod of thanks and appreciation. Brow creeps upwards as he retucks that shock of curl back under his cap. "any more requests?"(decker)
Decker grunts, not much apparent glee at keeping his whiskey. Just takes the joint back, takes his hit, passes it on. Kinda freakish to stare at James holding a conversation, especially when Erik was doing just that, so he turns his attention the other way. Make sure nothing was creeping up or something. Musicians on the fuckin street. What the fuck was this, Greenwich Village?Some time later, he looks at Erik again. "You hear 'bout the shit in Batsto?"
(dire)
*He winces and nods* Heavy shit.
What tribe was she? * he sniffs the air as he walks and shakes his head*(michele)
"Nope, I'm good."Glancing over at the small crowd of 'thugs,' she nods in that direction.
"You might wanna move your station though. There could be a fight. And even if there's not, those guys'll scare away customers."
(aurora)
"Hell if I knew. Wasn't wolf, or if it was it was nothing I've ever heard of. She was adopted into Jonathan's tribe when they joined. But Billy wouldn't let me near her, because he was afraid she blamed me."A tragedy of errors, thats what her life was.
(dire)
*he nods* THat's a shame. We got a little fucker out in the barrens. Looks something like a coyote.(tristan)
He chuckles and shrugs, playing low and soft while they talk, just to keep that coinage rolling in " could be, could be.. but they scare away the customers and I'll just follow them of like a good little stalker - er, I mean entertainer." Chuckles, winks, and shrugs. He doesn't seem overly worried about them. A thugs a thug no matter where you go - and as long as they don't touch the violin, he's cool.(erik)
"Yup. Seen some shit was goin on out there..." continues the rotation as he watches Jonathan approach(aurora)
"But there's a very definite line between him and I about that. I'm at fault, in their eyes. Frankly, I just want nothing to do with it. I'm done. I said I'd try and figure out if something scientific is going on in the Barrens, becuase I would hate to see another bunhc of people hurt, but I'm not doing it for them anymore."That fierceness back. She may at least be nominally comfortable with Dire. He and she had similar humor at least, but she was not the Garou's pawn on the chessboard anymore.
(michele)
Glancing back at the crowd of thugs, she frowns."Hey, what is posh doctor-boy doing going over there? Must not be as smart as he looks."
She gives Tristan a wry smile.
(decker)
"James 'n Rune been askin' questions 'roundabout those parts." When the joint comes back to him, he ashes it. Half a joint split two or three ways don't last too long, and don't get him too high. Probably a good thing. "Dire too. They's the ones to ask 'bout it." A sniff: loud, long, before he turns to the side and spits. Another hit, and he passes the last of the joint on with a faint nod up - Finish it off."Think it's serious?"
(dire)
Well indipentantly it's a nice action. Mayby it'll get you a few turns on the karma wheel. * he grins a little as he walks and she swings along beside him*(aurora)
"Long before I knew about any of you, I was still very much into my work. I may not like that fact that I get to help everyone by doing it, but it'd be dumb to throw out that much work."Besides, maybe someone would listen this time.
(tristan)
Brow lifts and her comment draws his gaze thataway once more... catogorizing the doctorboy, who clearly isn't one of the thugs, and he chuckles. "maybe he's just the reserve medic..." or out of his mind, either way. Course, don't see Tristan running off scared either, do you? Nope, just a playing his song. Nod of thanks to a gentleman who parts with a fiver, and a smile for the little girl at his side who insisted...(erik)
He shrugs, declining the joint. "Blinded a kin, right? "(jonathan)
~Jonathan looks to James, and smiles~ Hullo....~He nods to Erik and Decker~(ra'gon)
Both mitted hands shoved tightly into the thick of his bulky blue jacket pockets he approach's the street vendor who seem to be breaking for the moment before their next trist and escapade.(dire)
That's the spirit. Fuck um if they can't take a joke... or the truth. * he smiles*(james)
"How long ya been in town?"right direct question for a stranger, isn't it?
and since he doesn't seem to be getting that sorta friendly with the good ol' doc
... well.
that may not be good.
but we're counting on that easy smile still being there, right?(jonathan)
~He tilts his head as if to think a moment~ Oh, not too long, I'd say less than a week.....(michelle)
Lapsing into a comfortable silence, she shoves her hands in her pockets (the better to not be tempted to steal anything), and leans against the wall, staring at the group of men by O'Tolley's.(erik)
Erik falls silent as Jonathan comes close enough to hear... Pack business and all that... So he turns his discomfitting attention to the newcommer. Staring right at his eyes. Into them, down, down and through. as if he sees everything that Jonathan is and couldn't care less...The stare of an Alpha
(erik)
"Yeah, something like that."Hazel eyes can't help but flicker back. Nice little gathering of wolves back there. Glad she wasn't in it. Made her hurt just thinking about it.
(aurora)
"Yeah, something like that."Hazel eyes can't help but flicker back. Nice little gathering of wolves back there. Glad she wasn't in it. Made her hurt just thinking about it.
(dire)
*He chuckels softly. Walks in silence a few steps and looks to her* We have a destination in mind or is this just a leasurly stroll?(tris)
He nods, and the music fades away once more. A smile, and he crouches to pick up the loose change and get it actually into the case and then its all gathered, rough count on how much without seeming to actually pay that much atention, and its tucked into coat pocket as he packs away the violin and bow, wiping down the first with a soft cloth before the case is closed nd he stands, picking it up. A smile for Michele. "Well, that's lunch money. Maybe I'll catcha again round dinner time." A boyish wink, and he turns, and heads off toward some diner.(aka - gotta run, back later. Thanks!)
(james)
he's all smiles, isn't he
this guy with the dreadlocks and patchwork coat
(can you read the glyphs so carefully hidden within?
can you feel that full blood rage just roiling beneath the surface?)
standing there next to Mr. Thug and Mr. Oogly
... with that stare, make it Mr. Intimidating
the Gnawer just as pleasent as he could be"Mmhmm." a nod, thoughtful at that "Not to be too incredibly forward, but my friends and I were sort of curious as to why... general interest and all that."
(aurora)
"I don't know. I was heading for my vehicle when you spoke earlier. Its just up the way."No idea. Not really the sort to invite mostly strange men back to her motel room.
(jonathan)
~He looks to Erk, and his hard stare, and then to Decker. Curious, and curiouser~ Indeed, I was looking for someone, and someone I've found, and that I thought my help could be used....if people cared to have another about.....(michele)
Nodding goodbye to Tristan, she glances at her watch. With a happy wave toward the group of thugs, for anyone who might actually notice, she turns and wanders down the street in the other direction.(dire)
*He nods and walks with her. That as good a place as any.* GOt a phone number I might be able to reach you at?(ra'gon)
Steps aside for Michele to pass unhindered he only offers a polite smile and swish of acknowledgement.(decker)
Decker finishes the joint off himself. No complaints there. When the cherry's all burnt out, the Modi drops the joint on the pavement and crushes it out underfoot.Like the Alpha, he keeps quiet. Somethin' like that. Some shit about some guy that some Garou bound into the earth ages 'n ages ago wakin' up again, too. A shrug of his own. Might be you oughta talk to James 'n Rune.
And the third set of eyes come to stop on Jonathan: grey as a thunderstorm. To James' friendliness, and to Erik's hard stare, Decker's is almost a careless thing, half-lazy.
(michele)
She shoots a bright smile at Ra'gon, and says "Morning!" even though it's clearly afternoon.(aurora)
"Yeah, I'll be there a few days at least. Its a motel. I'll jot it down when we get to my car."Phones could be safe. More private then addresses.
(ra'gon)
"Evening" He replies after her. "Perhaps I will catch your next show."(james)
"Yeh, heard about that."there's a bit of a chuckle
either that little bit of weed kicked in
or just having pack around has mellowed his mood back to resembling normal
brow lifting at Jonathan"And you are...?"
(dire)
*He nods and they walk soon getting to the SUV and he pauses. Watches her get in. Tilts his head. Letting her do it herself and then hands her the bag*(erik)
Erik's stare is much like Luna herself... If you think about it. Cold, hard, yet lit brilliantly. It is his eyes that tell the most about the Garou known as Blood Eagle... Fanatic to the core.
(michele)
"Maybe. You never know." She continues down the street, and disappears into a storefront.(aurora)
She takes her bag, slips a notebook from her backseat and a pen from the glovey and jots down the number. Neat legible penmanship, short message. Some metal kits sitting on the seat behind her. Field cases."There you go Dire. and thanks"
(ra'gon)
"Indeed" He mumbles from behind his placed smile as his eyes leave her and fall upon the group up aways from him. He settles himself back to lean against the wall.(jonathan)
~He pauses~ We doing formal introductions?(dire)
*he takes it and nods* No problem.
And if The coggie sweats you let me know. We don't need that shit round here. * he nods and turns to head back the way he came. The fluid graceful stroll of the predator returning as he goes. THe tall lanky SKald covered ground when he wants to*(aurora)
A nod, she closes her door, the vehicle starts. Automatics nice. Her left leg could just relax. Sitting there a few minutes while it warms and she settles her things over in the passenger seat. Watching Dire move swiftly away. Eventually, when this god forsaken leg healed, she could not move like she was 80. Finally pulling out into the street and driving off.(james)
hands come out of his pockets, now
waving absently to punctuate his speech"Well, always nice to know who's traipsing through your turf, yknow?"
subtle James, real subtle
but that's about when he takes his eyes off Jonathan
and glances over at his Alpha
that is so not his call right now
he was just supposed to talk to the guy
how official this gets on the street isn't his decision(erik)
Raises an eyebrow, but lets James continue to do the talking, and even moves his stare to point at the passers by. He (purposely doesn't see james look at him) continues to scan the crowd, effectively warning away the sheep from the gathering of wolves.(Jonathan)
~He nods~ I'm Jonathan....~He lowers his voice so that only the three can hear him~ I'm a Child of Gaia Theurge.....do alot of healing...(dire)
*Dire strolls back up. Keeps his tongue for once. Impressive for a Skald. Nods to those present and just stands beside decker. Hands pull out of the pockets of the too large leather coat. Dark gloves there now. He listens. Watches*(ra'gon)
Brows furrow from afar. Counting now silently, one..two..three Fenrir...and...well perhaps four with the fella he only briefly encountered that night they were all hovering over the carnage of the Builder's encampment. This fifth must be another. Another Urrah living GET. *growls*(dire)
*He sniffs the air and turns. Keen ears hearing a growl. Keyed to such sounds. The eyes, colored like that of a glaciers heart ice land on Ra'gon and a platinu blond brow rises. The one under the get of Fenris tattoo*(james)
"Jukebox. BeeGee fan of the Full Moon."he gives as much as he was given
no more, no less
(it shalt be three)
and that smile's still hanging around
as brilliant as is the fanatacism in his Alpha's eyes"These two," hooking a thumb over his shoulder, decidedly not at Dire "are my 'mates, and I think you've already met Dire." and if they want their names given they can to it themselves "Not like we're questioning your motives, or anything, but with all that's been going on, a new unintroduced face in our space, well... what are your motives?"
at least it wasn't "our territory, don't fuck up, grunt"
he's being rather nice and jovial
considering the earlier mood(erik)
Raises his head in a reverse nod, half challenge, half hello. "Erik."(jonathan)
~He nods~ I understand completely, as I said, I came looking for someone,a nd found them, now, well, I guess I'm looking to stay...and join up as it were.....(decker)
"Decker," the thug tosses in, a little belatedly. "Modi." His eyes follow the cant of Dire's across the street, fix briefly on Ra'gon. Recognition after a moment's thought: he's seen him in the Barrens twice.The stare's held, grey eyes under a half-frown. Hell's he lookin' at?
(ra'gon)
He mearly returns his own arching of a brow in response to Dire's gaze.(erik)
Focuses on Jonathan now, seemlessly taking over the conversation. "then you'd probably wanna look up Gabe, out in the Barrens."(dire)
*He frowns a bit and sniffs again*(jonthan)
~He nods~ Alright....who is he?(james)
and did he mention his pack makes Shakespear look tongue tied?
No? Good.
he seems to be done with whatever he was going to say just as Erik begins
seamless, synchronized, and they don't even look like they've practiced it
because they haven't
some things come naturalthat's when he tracks where his other packmate is looking
okay, some kid staring back
that really isn't that unusual today(erik)
"Fianna. Adren. Galliard. He'll help ya out, get ya set up... Where'd you say you was from?"(jonathan)
~He nods taking in teh information~ I've come from Birmingham......(ra'gon)
Crosses his mitted hands and bulky arms over his thick blue jacket covered chest and leans further into the wall while watching them all.(decker)
Another Garou. Fenris bless totemphones. The Modi shoots Erik a glance, pops his neck loosely. Gonna see the fuck he wants.The thug detaches himself from the crowd and heads toward Ra'gon.
(ra'gon)
His glance steals away from the troupe and crystalizes upon Decker. Eyes narrowing hard like that of an awaiting viper.(erik)
Erik doesn't acknowledge Decker's departutre in any way. Which means, of course, that he has no problem with it. His conversation with Jonathan just keeps on keepin on... "B-ham, huh? What's in b-ham?"(jonathan)
Was a large wyld caern outside of it......(dire)
*he Breaks off and goes with Decker. Not that he "Needed" Backup. More of just a habitual thing*(james)
okay, James?
is still just standing there
hands have found their way back into his pockets
breath steaming in the chilled air
listening, learning, all that jazz(decker)
Yeah. That? Just made Decker decide he doesn't like Ra'gon. Not that he really liked anyone, 'cept maybe pack and mate. And sometimes even that was debatable."Fuck you starin' at?" - as soon as he's close enough not to need to raise his voice. And when it's not raised, that voice is low, quiet, southern, slow. And contemptuous. Just like the storm-grey eyes.
(erik)
"Huh." Now that interests him. Not too many of those around anymore. Still, it beggs another question... "None of them here. So, then, you still sure you wanna hang about?"(jonathan)
~He nods~ Of course....just because there isn't one, doesn't mean tehre can't be one....and my services are much needed where I go.....(ra'gon)
Though his eyes never steal away from Decker, they do tale the tell of Dire's movements to shadow him."Allow me to blink then as to settle your ease, for the only reason I look to you is cause you approached me."
(dire)
*he remains silent for the moment. He'd heard the growl before they looked over. It's what caused him to look.*(decker)
The (young - something that's easily forgotten in the face of his Rage - ) Modi's eyes narrow in turn, glinting grey behind unexpectedly long lashes. "You been lookin' at us fer a while now," flatly. "You need somethin'?"(ra'gon)
"I thank you for your kind offer of assistance, but I must decline as I need none at this time" Curting his head only slightly to the side to peer past him and Dire, his eyes finding Jonathan, Erik and James this time.(erik)
"riiiight. healer, and all that..." Now he turns his attention over to Decker and the Strider, and Dire trying to look pack, with a raised eyebrow shot to James. The conversation continues with Jonathan still... "Well, the city is pretty much ours. Eagle Pack. No one minds you in it (yet), but if your planning a hunt you oughta let us in (or else). Clear?"(jonathan)
~He nods~ I will remember that.....I don't suppose there is alot of packs around?(dire)
*He moves a bit off to the right. Pauses. Watches. Listens. Sniffs.
His eyes casting about once before falling on the man again*(Eirk)
"Nope. Us and Coyote Howl. Guess us 'urrah' the only ones who remember those pack things and what they're for. Hey Kid, what's that all about? Deck just flexin, or is there buisness bein dealt?"(Decker)
"Yeah?" A long measuring stare. Decker had a good guess what Ra'gon was, what with his delivery for the Fianna and all. "Whatever." Here it comes. A nod over his shoulder at Erik. "See tall dark 'n ugly there? My 'boss'. North Jersey's our turf. So don't fuck around 'n enjoy yer fuckin' stay."Hell, look at that. He even grunts before turning to go, unless Ra'gon had something else to say.
(james)
he's been half paying attention to Erik
and half on his other packmate
it's a talent he seems to have
muscular shoulders roll in a shrug"Flexing, so far...."
(jonathan)
~He nods~ I don't suppose you need a theurge in your ranks?(erik)
Looks back over his shoulder at Jonathan, thinking he was done talking... "Actually, yes. Know a good one?"(jonathan)
~he stands a little taller~ Well, I've been first in a fight, not afraid to take a tumble, know my stuff without gifts for medifine, I'm your man....(ra'gon)
Say? No, nothing else slipped through his lips. He wasn't here for their amusement nor they his. Kindly inclining his head slightly abit he returns his gaze back upon the group and its dynamics.(dire)
*He sniffs Rag again. Remembers him from the Forest.
Paces around him once and then heads back for the others with Decker.
He was the little one that was either a nuwisha or some fucked up metis worse than him*(erik)
"Jonathan, right? Jonathan, you know what the single most important thing to look for in a packmate is?"(james)
this?
he pays right close attention to
so it's... maybe.... 1/4 and 3/4 now
or something like that(jonathan)
~He tilts his head~ I could think of a few things, but I'm sure its different for people...(erik)
"No. Its the same for everybody, 'cept of course some too stupid to figure it... Its trust, Jonathan. Trust. Earn that first, then we'll talk."(jonathan)
~He nods~ Alright....so then find the Gabe in the woods?(james)
there's a bit of a grin there, at that
glancing back towards Decker and Dire
friggen ping pong attention match(ra'gon)
His ear twitches abit after hearing that. Message? Delievery? He still silently leans and listens(eriK)
"Well, ya don't -have- to, but he's the elder 'round here. I'd show ya to him, but I think I got somethin to do over there." He nods towards Decker across the street. "You commin, Kid?"(decker)
Decker takes his time coming back to the crowd. When he gets there, he barely glances at them, and doesn't slow; his attention is caught on something or other down the street. A glance, a word, a stare, a glare: a man, a woman, a word...a fight? Something to check out. Something to look into. Maybe something to keep himself sharp over. Or whatever excuse it was he was using these days to pick a brawl.Those grey eyes drag away for a moment, flicker between James and Erik. Quietly, just a mutter beneath Erik's conversation, "Leavin'."
For Jonathan, just another look. For Dire, a hint of a nod up. Then the Modi brushes past, off to chase down whatever caught his unkind attention.
(dire)
*A reply nod up and he pauses beside James. Stays quiet for the moment. Sniffs the air and looks around*(james)
from a ping pong attention match
it's turned into a game of musical chairs
they're heading over towards Decker and Dire
and the others are heading back
somebody. make. the music. stop.he was gonna follow
but since they came up to them
...well.
he has his chair, allright.(erik)
He watches Decker walk away slently, shrugs at who knows what and gives everyone a community nod before he also takes his leave, walking away in the oposite direction that the Modi took.(james)
first there were four
now three
now two
and his gaze slipslides over towards Dire
and a hand digs into a pocket
(just how many of those pockets does that coat have?)
pulling out a little braceletjust some beads strung on elastic
real pretty and cute
child-sized
and he holds it out on his palm towards Dire"Meant to give this to Carmen the other day, in thanks for helping us out so much."
(ra'gon)
Eyes them depart from one another while taking out that elaminated street map and a greese pencil. Marking a spot on it he smiles coy to himself. Taking off right after the last has left.(dire)
*He looks down and takes it. Nods* Thank you yuf. I'll make sure she gets it. She's rather fond of you. Likes your hair. * he smiles*(james)
there's a soft laugh
at least she likes it, and doesn't want to cut it off like Mae
the bracelet isn't much
there might even be a bead or two that have fallen off
in the years since it was probably made
it's just Stuff
that probably doesn't mean much to anyone but a Gnawer
and maybe a little girl"You're welcome. She's a good kid, Dire. Seems you're doing right by her, raising her right. Keep it up." a hand reaches out, patting the Skald on the shoulder "You take good care of her, hm?"
that might even be a genuine smile afforded the Fenrir
but with that, the Gnawer makes his way off
he's got things to do, too(dire)
*he nods* I will. And thanks James. * He nods and turns as the other walks off and he departs as well*Posted by james at 12:00 AMJanuary 05, 2003.01.05.02. - mullica revelations [rune] *fog[pine barrens, batsto village, cont'd from previous scene]
(rune)
Outside, the sudden shock of frigid night air blasts Rune full-force in the face. After several hours in the cozy pub, the sensation is shocking, indeed. Somehow, it still takes her breath away. She lifts her eyes to the sky beyond - velvet night, studded with diamonds and scattered with diamond dust - before changing focus and following her packmate's path.The bottles clank in her arms as she walks, an irregular beat that sings in syncopated time to the regular fall of her footsteps on the snowy sidewalk. The car is by now covered with a fine, light film, and snow still falls from the sky. She follows her packmates path through the snow (even Rune can track through fresh snow), but more definitely, she follows the thread of his presence, the invisible pull of pack. It's a pull she could follow if blindfolded, if blinded, if need be, centered somewhere low in her gut, curling along the back of her spine.
Pack.
"Do you want to get these samples now, James" she asks when she draws up beside him, casting him a sidelong glance that is not quite a glance. Her shoulder nudges his own as she shifts the bottles in her arms. "Or wait for tomorrow, or something?"
(james)
pack
there's footprints in the snow
pack
there's the trail of Rage laying like blood across it
pack
there's the form standing and blowing smoke plumes into the air
pack
there's the dreadlocked man that slowly turns to the approach of her heels in the snowshoulders shrug beneath the patchwork coat
he's looking over one at her
and that dark gaze follows her right on up beside him
then drops back to the snow"I'm sorry I almost lost it in there."
it seems he had a pack all along
ashes from the Camel flicked angrily at the ground
earlier, he just had his fun stealing one of hers
the only affection that could be shown and thought nothing of
but even if she's his lo....packmate
she's still Beta above all and infront of others
and there's something of a nod that jingles dreads over shoulders"We might as well, since we're here. You think we know enough?"
for it to be safe?
he didn't hear Carmen's command
but there's a thosuand reasons he'd take extra good care of Rune
and he's not the leader she is
not that he's questioning her decision
but trying to grasp what's enough to know before walking in
if there is such a thing(zoe)
. . .Slow, steady steps out, her staff sweeping softly before her making sure of obstacles. Strange stick to mark her path, but its as much protection as useful. Snow and cold air hitting her as she leaves the Pub. Had what she learned been worth it? Hard to say. Slowly starting her way through the night. Where did a blind woman go? Wherever her feet wandered it seemed. . .(rune)
"You didn't lose it," the Glass Walker responds, red mouth slipsliding into a faint smirk. "so there's no real need to apologize, is there?" She knows as well as he does how Rage rises, unbidden, how it seizes one, how it controls even when you need to be calm, even when your life depends on it."As for the rest," Rune continues, shifting the bottles in her arms. "I don't think we know enough, not really. But I'm not sure that we will ever know enough, and it's an avenue we should explore, if only to rule it out. If it's something as simple as cleaning up a spill to quiet a spirit, well, that's easily enough accomplished."
Sort of. There's a pause, silence, and for the moment her breath spills out, mists, combines with the smoke from his cigarette spiraling into the air. "But let's see what we do know. Some fallen - apparently - spirit fought with a Garou. Another man came and helped the Garou bind the spirit, well beneath the earth. For some reason, the spirit is waking now - " dark eyes skew towards James, and she draws another breath, shifting her gaze to the forest beyond. " - what if the spill woke the spirit, something in the activity of banes and such surrounding it woke it and gave it strength to rise again? And there's some connection to the mountains in North Carolina."
If we keep a connection open, maybe we can sense if one or the other of use starts hearing voices, and get out of there before we do something stupid. We can even go downriver a ways to get the samples. Nothing says we need to get them right here in Batsto.
(james)
there's the slightest semblance of a nod
she tells him not to worry about it
so he's not going to anymore
dragging smoke into a deep sigh"And the spirit telling people that it's their true God." shoulds rolling in another shrug, shaking that Rage off "And that's a good a guess as I've got, I'd prefer it to any other options springing out from my childhood imagination. Better than a vengeant true God, hm?"
and he quiets, then
as the connection between them crackles to life again
some warmth sizzling through and around his brain
he stands in that surrounding warmth for a moment
then begins striding into the forest
holding out a hand to take two of the bottles from herYeh..... I don't feel like jumping on the blind and burnt bandwagon, personally.
(rune)
"Agreed." The Glass Walker murmurs. "On both counts."The connection open, sensations and surface thoughts fizzle along the connection, but more than that, some comforting sense of presence that always comes with pack. She'd forgotten that, when she left. She'd forgotten how right it feels, how naturally it enfolds them, how they cannot live without it.
And so they walk. James has two beer bottles, Rune has one. And so they walk, and they do not speak, and beneath her feet, the texture changes from mildly slippery snow-covered concrete to more slippery snow-coated grassy weedy dead leaf-rot sort of stuff. Her pace slows, so that she can pick her way through the broken ground. Her pace slows, and her hackles rise, as they wind through the trees to the blood red river rolling sluggishly through the woods. The snow falls and coats the trees and the sloping bank, but just melts into the river, which seems (red as blood, lined with cedars) somehow a malevolent presence in the quiet bog.
Rune's penlight flashes over the surface, and then she picks out a careful trail to the water's edge, filling crouching to fill her bottle before handing it back to James, and waiting for the next.
(james)
there's that natural easiness between them
two bodies moving with one connected mind
he lived without it for two years
and it left him hollow, ravaged
no Garou should have to live without it
and he did - it was a decision of faith
and even out here, in the..... creepy?.... woods
there's a level of comfort found in that all but physical touchhackles raised long ago
they never settled from the bar
but they're rising some army up his spine
it's unsettling out here
he understands what Carmen was feeling
though it's not as strong for himtrading the empty bottle for the full, then the next
he doesn't hunker down like her
he's keeping a lookout
and not exactly looking at the river, just in case
Camel clenched between his teeth
lips pulled back in a slight snarl
as if the pine-sol wasn't already bad enough
he's balancing the two bottlenecks between fingers
hand held out to give her leverage to rise against the mud(rune)
The last bottle filled, Rune accepts James' hand and rises gratefully, letting the cold waters of the Mullica roll on, undisturbed by her touch, at least. She wants to take a last glance back at the place where all these crazy folk have come to be blinded. She wants one last look, as if remembering the place (and the creepy feeling, the unsettling sensation, as if her body were half-way outside its boundaries, something's wrong with the world.) itself might somehow help them decipher the many, ill-fitting puzzle pieces which they have managed to uncover.She doesn't look back. She just stands, and with a sweep of her gaze toward James, heads back out the way they came. The Glass Walker follows their very clear trail through the frozen bog, over the light fall of snow, into the quiet town where who knows how many blinded and burned people sit at home, reveling in their silent, ecstatic communion with the one true god (the devil knows how to seduce the faithful) and spreading evangelical word of their conversion to all about. It's like a virus, religion, particularly this religion, infecting the host, using its brain to replicate itself, spreading it to another and another in an ever widening circle.
The thought is alarming, (and shared, wordlessly, over the connection. Some image, infection, the black circle spreading outwards from the strange little town.) and so Rune quickens her careful pace once they gain the streets again. Ten minutes later, there's still silence - though musing, now that the eerie feeling is fading and her hackles have begun to fall - as they take their seats in the cold interior of the Beemer. The windshields and headlights have been wiped clear of snow, and Rune allows the negine to idle several minutes until the blasting heat means she can take off her gloves.
"We've got alot to tell Erik," she says at last, casting a glance at James beside her. He has the unenviable job of balancing three bottles so that they do not jostle and spill, imperfectly topped as they are with bent caps, but she brushes her fingers along his thigh nevertheless, before her hand finds its way to the gear shift. "Let's go home."
(james)
that creepy sensation
that calling temptation
how it can't hurt to look, we hope it won't
but we want to look anyway
he remembers Carmen's words
and there's that careful deathgrip he has on the connection
(don't you dare look, baby)
he wants to crawl out from beneath the rippling blackness that's spreading like a black hole
everything falling into it and the mouth gaping wide and wider and widerdo you remember, James, when you were a young cub, the story that Momma Ruggs told? That ThunderWyrm that lives in the belly of a mountain, a river of blood streaming out from beneath it from the thousands of Garou that it consumes... the blood of his own pack now a part of that neverending stream.... don't think about that, Jamey, ssshhhhhh.
he almost doesn't remember the walk back to the Beemer
snapping back into it when the locks flip
when the engine idles and the wipers begin to fling snow
there's a delicate balance of those bottles"Yea... not even sure where to being with it."
there's a half-hearted chuckle
but a whole-hearted smile at the soft touch
just nodding
yeh. homePosted by james at 12:00 AM.01.05.02 - o'leary's [rune-mick-dire-carmen-zoe] *fog[pine barrens, batsto village]
(rune)
It's Sunday, the day of the lord, or some such, which might actually cross Rune's mind if anyone in her family had been religious, ever. She might not even notice the changeable weekdays (there is no work, no ordinary rhythm to tie her life to the workaday world of the mundane, no job for discipline, no children for structure, no interruption to the seemless thread of chain-stores or pizza delivery or take-out places or diners open 24-hours a day, and the only time she must stop and think about what day it is is when she wants to buy booze or hit the mall.Sunday, late afternoon. The sun - barely an impression of light, falling, behind the thick gray clouds now releasing a light fall of snow over the trees and... things. The snowflakes swim in the Beemer's headlights as Rune takes the turn-off toward Bastso, searching the buildings with narrowed eyes for O'Leary's pub.
Considering the crawling pace at which the Glass walker is willing to drive in such conditions (though the snow is light, now, little more than a dusting covering the road, obscuring the double yellow lines, glazing the grass white), it's a wonder that they've actually made it this century.
But they have, and the Beemer's headlights flash across the rambling façade of O'Leary's Pub as Rune pulls into a parking space nice and far away from any other car in the vicinity, imagining pillows - great big air-bags - to fill the space and protect her Z3 from the reckless local drivers. In a town full of religious loonies, one never can be too careful.
Out the car, heels striking sharply on the asphalt, and around, and up the walk toward O'Leary's, pausing just within the door to shake what snow has managed to accumulated on her dark head free before she looks around for Mick.
(mick)
There's an Auburn haired, well built man in a flannel shirt standing behind the bar. Tired green eyes lift and fix on the door before he looks back to the business at hand ... washing glasses. Business is slow at the bar these days, religious freaks don't care for having a swig of whiskey....or a pint of lager anymore. Mick's been spending his days since Maddie's death trying not to drink up all of his profit, and steering clear of the Garou in the City, and those in the Barrens. He's managed to do so quite well .... until now."Can I help you?"
(james)
it has been amazing, hasn't it
this.... sedate.... drive
he actually has time to look at the scenery
which is something new in itselfonce they've parked
and made sure there's exactly one foot more than the longest door length between the Z3 and any other possible and plausible car that would dare step into their dance space and park nearby
he shrugs the patchwork trench up thick around his shoulders
dreads only do so much to keep the neck warm
and he as of now does not own a scarf
(though surely if Mae found out she'd knit him one poste haste)
tank boots crunching satisfactorily upon the collecting snow
breath fogs in the few paces between the lot and the door
he doesn't bother shaking the snow from jungle vine hair
his hands are still shoved into the warmth of his pocketsRune knows who they're looking for
he's only got the partial description
but he'll help out where he can
two sets of eyes are better than one and all that junk
and since it's a fairly empty joint on a Sunday
Mick isn't that hard to pick outone sleek Glasswalker
all primped and painted and trimmed and tucked in and expensively sweatered
one scruffy Gnawer
shoulders low, circles under his eyes, and hasn't shaved since sometime pre-dawn yesterday
table for two, please
(....right)
he lets his Beta do the talking(rune)
"You're Mick, right?" The tall woman asks, offering a casual glance over her shoulder at her packmate, waiting for the blast of wintry air to settle down before unbuttoning her creamy leather coat (black fur, the same inky color as her hair, tickles chin and wrist) to reveal the aforementioned and o-so-expensive sweater beneath. With the high-heeled boots she wears, she's almost a match for her packmate in height, and cuts an imposing figure as she walks (half-way prowls) across the room. "We talked on the phone. I'm Rune."Dark eyes flicker up, studying him with a sort of careless attention. "Wanted to ask you some things about the religious revival around here." She leans against the bar, then does a half-turn, noting the empty tables and bar. Complete. Empty. "Can we talk here, or do we need to go someone a little more private?"
(mick)
"We can talk here." He juts his head over towards the one table taken up at the far back corner of the bar. 'That's my father." No introductions given. The glass in his hand is washed and he sits it on the rack before wiping his hands with a worn white cotton towel. "What do you want to know?" He does not look at the fur brushing her skin, or the dangerous lips, or the heels that could crush. He pays them no mind, and his gaze flickers only between the faces of the two newly entered Garou.(james)
she prowls
he strolls
yep, just strolls
that easy ground covering effortless walk
which keeps him shoulder to shoulder
(well, a little bit behind)
with his packmatewhere she's coiled steel
he's got this feline repose
you'd have to back him into a corner to make him strike
and until then?
he seems like just one of the palsthere's a slow glance of deep umber eyes towards the corner table
(father, check)
then even keel drag back towards Mick
well, since they can talk here
he's making himself comfortable on a stool
(rune)
No introductions are given. No introductions are even requested, though they have entered his territory to demand answers he need not give. The Glass Walker lifts an arched, plucked, pampered, perfectly shaped brow and flickers a glance at her packmate (the faint lilt and shrug of shoulders beneath the warm leather coat.) shoulder to shoulder (or just behind) and drags up a stool herself, settling no more than a hip against it."Pretty much everything," she smirks, digging into her pocket and pulling out a twenty dollar bill. "...anything you can tell us about the revival. When it began, what's going on, who's been affected, who's leading it, why the hell folks haven't fucking left, yet. Whatever you can think of. Meantime, I figure it's gonna be thirsty work," red nails tap against the cash as she slides it over to him. "and we could both use a beer."
(mick)
Mick looks at the money, considers being offended, then shifts his gaze towards James. The Fianna's looks are not rude, just .... studious. He turns, getting them both to bottles of beer and sits each before them on napkins. Why? Habit perhaps. "There's something going on. I don't know what. You feel it when someone looks at you ... you dream about it when you sleep...." He shrugs and leans against the back wall behind the bar, towel still in hand. "Why are you city wolves so curious...?"(dire)
*Out of the woods..... across the blacktop..... up the steps to the pub the SKald stalks. He's cold and wants to warm up a bit. The door is opened and he steps inside. Closing it behind him he pulls off ther long gray flannel toboggin and wads it up stuffing it into a pocket. He's dressed like normal. Steel toed boots, jeans, a flannel uder the leather coat two sizes too big. His platinum blond hair shines a bit and his icy blue eyes look around*
*As he unwraps he sits the littlee gitl down on the floor and nods to her*
(james)
studious
he can dig that
Rune's more than capable of asking questions all by her self
so the question remains of why she brought him along
doesn't it
is it just because they're pack?
or does she have another use in mind"Thank you."
Momma Ruggs didn't raise an uncouth hound
there's a warmth in his voice
and there's ease in his smile
gloves finally removed, warm palm wraps around chilled bottle
after the first slug he's set the beer back on the napkin
less sweat on the bar means less for Mick to clean up later
and right now just quietly listening until something inspires him to speak again
(rune)
"Oh, I don't know." Rune says, red mouth curving into a faint, customary smirk. Dark eyes flicker toward the entrance as the Skald walks in, and perhaps her companions can feel the half-breathed curse that spills from between her painted lips " - fuck - " as she quickly returns her attention to Mick. "Kinfolk being blinded after seeing god, some weird religious revival spreading through the ranks, that would draw anyone's attention, wouldn't it?"Her own gloves come off - teeth snagging the tips of the fingers, tugging - and she too grabs her beer and takes a drink. "So, you don't know much - not when it started, not how it started, not whom it started with? What about the dreams?"
(carmen)
She smiles brightly as she's sat down and does a mimic of dire and pulls off the knit green cap thats a little too big but is ok anyway, and the soft rabbitfur mittens come off too and she shoves them in her pocket.
She looks around as her hair does the static flyaway thing and hitches her baby 'manda doll up better into her arms as she reaches up to tuck her hand into the edge of Dire's jean pocket..(dire)
*He smiles at her and sniffs the air. He hears Runes aords and his brow arks. He nods to carmen and heads that way. Boots clomping softly on the floor as he crosses the pub.
The Lanky skald moves with a certin grace and flowing effortless dexterity that marks a good gymnist*(carmen)
She didn't see them at first, she didn't see mis'Rune and da peoples she's talking too...
but then she does...
and dark little eyes absolutely LIGHT UP and her steps near bounce as she follows Dire over there - and she tries REALLY hard to be good and not inturrupt, but she's been waiting forEVer to see Mis'Rune again and she looks like she's near gonna BURST
but she's a good pup
and she promised to be quiet and good and stuffs...
so she does...
but it KILLS her...
but she just.. keeps.. smiling and bouncing, little eyes locked on the lady she wants to be when she gets big.(mick)
He laughs, shakes his head and green eyes shift towards the door with a mindful gaze. "When did it start? When these lands began. This place has always been different. I didn't know a kinfolk had been harmed....I don't go out much these days." Another pause, and Mick leans in towards James and Rune.
"I'm telling you this because I think I owe you...." He frowns. "....My dreams are of the blue mountains. And of a woman there. A woman that knows more about this than I think any one would. I know that doesn't make sense....but it's all I can tell you. As for who's running the revival, one of my best customers....Mr. Hutchins. He was a drunk .... until he found ...whatever God it is they're all fawning over."
(dire)
*He helps Caremn up onto a stoll and geins at her taking the one beside her and nods to Mick, Rune and james. His words strangly melodic and plain at the same time* I was there....(james)
eyes the color of rich, pure earth slide towards the door when the bell jingles
a brow lifting towards the frame of heavy dreads
well then.still quiet
still drinking that beer
not really thinking about the legalities of a child in a pub
not his kid
not his pub
not his problem.bit of a nod up to the Skald, probably to the kid, too
but maybe that's just the beginning of another slug from the beer
(deep underneath his skin, some molten sea ripples and swells and settles again)
elbow leaning onto the bar to bring him in respectfully close to the whispering tender
(he remembers who he found..... and who they found she was connected to)(rune)
Rune digs into her right pocket and pulls out (those must be deep pockets. wallet. cigarettes. keys. lighter. and now?) a brand new palm pilot. Dark eyes flicker toward the new tech toy - and incidentally, over to Carmen as she pulls it out - and she offers the girl a quick little wink that lightens her somber features."You don't owe us," the Glass Walker says quietly, dark eyes returning to the bartender. "...but I appreciate your help. Can you tell me anything else about this Mr. Hutchins? First name, maybe where he lives?" she glances back down at the palm pilot as it boots up, touching the screen with the little attached stylus until she gets to the note-saving feature and writing down the man's name. "It could help me track down his particulars, and we might want to pay him a visit. Do you know if he's been blinded?"
An afterthought, then, a glance down the bar at Dire. Dark brows rising in a slow, questioning arch. "You were where?"
(dire)
I was there when Zoe lost her sight. * he nods.* And afterwords.(carmen)
Leagalities smegalities - how bout the fact the four year old has a gun of her own that shee's not even big enough to hold...
Pubs are a small matter.
She smiles brightly up at her Dire - gaze full of a little girls adoration (daddy) before she carefully sets down baby 'manda and makes sure sh'es not gonna cry or nuffin and inturrupt.. binky in the dolls mouth and everythings ok...
And then Mis'Rune winks, and she just all. out. beams.
makes it ever so much easier to wait her turn since Mis'Rune see'd her, and all.
She gives James a somber, closer, look. Wonder if he's as mean as the boogerbreath Dekah.. she scritches her forhead and waits.
And waits.
and waits.
Patiently.
Well, as close to it as a little girl can..(james)
legalities would matter if he cared
and oddly, right now, he doesn't
not enough that Mick's license could become questionable
not enough that CPS would have a heart attack to know about the gun
ignorance is a bliss, right?
under the child's scrutiny a smile quirks one side of his mouth
it even turns into what could be called a grinbut right now pleasentries are secondary
his attention's back on Mick and Rune
... and Dire"What do you know about it?"
not that the Skald really needed a reason to tell a story, hm?
(dire)
*he gently rubs Carmens back seeing her be so good and nods to her*(Mick)
A brow arches as the man with the child speaks. He holds his answer until Rune has dealt with Dire's response, as it could be some importance...."Hungry kid?" He quirks a brow up as he looks at Carmen.(dire)
*he raises his brows and nos to James but waits for Rune to ask. He was trying to Join their pack and all. Needed to at least appear formal*(rune)
The Glass Walker snorts softly beneath her breath, nostrils flaring with obvious frustration. "Dire, would you just answer James' question?" she says, making an effort not to roll her eyes.(carmen)
James grins, and she returns it wiht a sunny smile, and then eyes brighten as she looks at Mick, and little voice (sweet enough to make the angels weep) pipes up - since she was asked directly and all.. "yessir, a little, thank you."
All polite and everything - kinda hard to believe she's Dire's hm? She smiles, and still, is very very quiet cuz she promised and as Dire rubs her back she leans into him just a little, and is perfectly content (kinda) to rock her doll back to sleep...
While she studies James' hair...
s'kinda cool, really...
wonder if'n he'd let her play with it... Dire don't gots nuff to play with and all..
but she REALLY wants to play with Mis'Runes...
oh but she's all quiet and doesn't even wriggle...
much.(Dire)
*He nods* I was there when Zoe lost her sight. Was walking with her and the elder. The sky clouded over... thunder in the winter only days after a snow storm. Cold enough for snow but rain fell instead.... she went to the river. The Mullica... looked like blood same as always. Carmen was with us too. * he smiles to her* She was a good pup. * he looks back to The 3* Gabe said to let her go and was following her. We both felt something... unnatural. * he srugs gently* I'm no theurge but it was hard to place..... we got there and she stared into the waters. Gabe wouldn't let her go in... I told them that river was spooky... when she looked back she was blind. Swares she saw gaia....(rune)
"Lovely. Just lovely," Rune murmurs beneath her breath, "Did either of you look into the river? Did Carmen?" Red nails tap an impatient rhythm on the polished wood of the bar as the woman shifts her gaze from Dire back to Mick. "Have most of these happened along the Mullica? Or do you know?"There's a moment of quiet, then, punctuated by the clatter of the palm pilot onto the bartop surface, as Rune digs through her pockets for a cigarette. She has one half-way-lit - cigarette in her mouth, lighter curled in her left hand - when she looks at Mick and speaks around the filter - "Mind if I smoke?" - before continuing with a faint nod to Dire. She doesn't light the cigarette, though, not without permission, anyway. "Do you know where Zoe is now? I want Imogen to examine her. Maybe take her to an eye specialist, too."
(dire)
*he shakes his head* Carmen and I didn't. I had her, Carmen, close her eyes tight. I did the same. My other sences allwed me to navigate till we were clear of the river. I think gabe did though. I took Carmen and Zoe back to a safe place while Gabe went umbral to look. He came back fine * he srugs gently*(carmen)
"I closed my eyes tights just likes my Dire tole me too." A nod to punctuate. "So i didn'ts see nuffin.. hided agaisnt his neck n stuffs. Miss Zoe was with Misser'Oak lasts I see'd her... she didn't seems worried, but she was acting kinda funny... but den I trieds Deermeat and it was nummy.."
and whoops - she was s'posed ta be quiet, huh?(james)
there's a.... smile.... at the silence as an answer to his question
(yuff indeed)
just concentrate on that beer, Jamey-boy
he listens quietly and respectfully
being as good as Carmen and not interrupting
not even wrigglingwell then.
seeing Gaia was a good enough reason to go blind
all Her Glory, and whatnot
even if it does nothing to make the situation seem any better"What kind of spooky? What kind of unnatural? How'd it feel? Where on the river? What more about the storm? How did it form? In what part of the sky? What'd Gaia look like?"
he can avalanche questions when he's got a mind to
he knows as well as they do
without it having to be said
Gaia, to Garou, is not unnatural(dire)
Last I saw she was in the elders camp. He'd wanted her to stay. Had me howl for that coggie doctor and I took Carmen home. So I suppose he looked at her. Havent seen her since though.
*He beams at Carmen* The pup did good that night.(mick)
Mick shrugs. He can get away with things you couldn't in the big city. The child in the pub? Easy, he serves food.....it's not just a bar. Smoking? Half of Batsto smokes...or did. He listens to Rune banter back and forth with Dire, while he leans back against the wall still. ".....I'd have to say near the Mullica...but I could be wrong."(dire)
*He looks to James and smiles softly*An uneasy kind of spooky. I've never liked the place, And unnatural by i'ts' own definition is a bit hard to define. * he srugs* Didn't feel down right wyrmy but then again 'm no theurge, like I said. It felt strange. Made my hackels raise. The eldres too. As to where. (( he tells them exactly where)) The storm came up suddenly, formed out of nowhere and like I sasid it thundered and RAINED when it was like 20 degrees outside two days after a snow. As to the part of the sky... that would be um.... up? And She couldn't describe gaia past she was beautiful. She seemedd to hoinestly belive it. Like a revelation
(zoe_
Ripples. . spreading outward. . .. . .Nothing new these days. Oh yes, her eyes weren't their usual keen grey, but that only a small thing. . really. Gabriel had helped her in her time spent with the village, after things had been decidedly uneventful. One blind woman alone? Hardly. More to her now then met the eyes, with her staff and talisman necklace, with some sort of serene disposition. The spirits had revealed some truths, but to know it all, or to perhaps bring that bright light out once more, she had come here. The answers lay in the source. They had to.
Memory was a beautiful thing, as was her staff. She could move about with some degree of ease, if more slowly then in the past. She knew where the Pub was, where information gathered most days, where people gathered. . . and her slow steady steps carry her that way. People gave her looks. Whispers. Edged closer or away as their case may be. She was one of those touched, but unlike others, not burned. . merely blinded by divinity. It was the ripples of her presence that preceded her to the Pub. . .
(mick)
"Mick...good to meet you..." Comes the reply from Mick to Dire.(dire)
*he nods placing the mans Scent to memory. THEN adding the name*(rune)
"Were there any tracks in the immediate area, human or otherwise?" Granted permission, Rune lights in, taking a good long drag from her pink cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke from her nostrils. The beer bottle clanks against the bar as she sets it down once more. Somehow - she didn't even notice - it's empty, now. A nod to Mick. "Dire said it's always been creepy. You've been here for a while, right? Do you know if it's a place that animals have traditionally avoided?"(james)
there's a nod of thanks
glancing to Rune to let her file that information away
and draw her own conclusions for the next round of questions
just as he's sorting it all out
and his gaze slides downwards"What'd you feel, Carmen, when you were at the river with Dire and Zoe and Gabe?"
empty bottle settled back on the bar
spinning the stool a bit so he can give the little pup his full attention
polite, and all that, included with the easy grin
however polite and easy a full moon suddenly turning his full attention on you and questioning can be, anyway(dire)
*he shakes his head* noth8ing out of the ordinary. I often teach Carmen about tracks and such near the river. It's always been spooky. These woods hold an anchient something that doesn't sleep. That much I know.... past that. * he srugs* it was spooky before people started going blind.
I didn't much care till one was a kin. Other than a punch stupid fuckers meandering around in the dark with flashlights makes living out there harder.(mick)
He nods. "I don't go around the river....I think there was a spill of some sort through that area....a chemical? I can't recall exactly..." Turning he gets Rune another beer and holds one out for James and Dire, in case they wanted a drink amid the heavy discussion.(zoe)
He nods. "I don't go around the river....I think there was a spill of some sort through that area....a chemical? I can't recall exactly..." Turning he gets Rune another beer and holds one out for James and Dire, in case they wanted a drink amid the heavy discussion.(dire)
*He takes one and smiles* Thank you Mick. * He was taught when just a pup to be respectful to those that gave respect. So far Mick has done so and he didn't stink of the city and stuff. That put him up there for Dire. He feels the door open and his icy blue eyes flicker over and he smiles* Hey Zoe...(carmen)
Sometimes.. the littlest ones forget when to be afriad.
Though she doesn't forget there was food mentioned and she was hungry and thirsty too. but! she's a good pup. maybe dire'll take her for Pizza, she likes pizza.
Oh. James. Questions.
She studies him a minute.. "I likes your hair.." has to get that outa the way first, and then.. lower lip is chewed a moment and she continues.. "was..wasn't really scary - not likes when dere's monsters unner the bed or in da closet or sumpin... but kinda spooks'the'same.. yannow?"
She ponders another moment.. and then.. "Ida been skared real bad if'n my Dire wasn't with me..."(dire)
*He smiles to Carmen and nods* You did really good being quiet and stuff that night. You'll make a goood scout one day.(james)
even without directly looking at Mick to see he's holding it out
he reaches back for the beer and grins a murmured thank you
attention turning back to the little girl as she speaksThink we should get that water tested? an impression of the questioned suggestion across his packmate's mind
living in NYC for awhile
he knows what kind of nastiness comes in chemicals
glancing up as Zoe enters
(speak of the devil)
but he keeps right on that track with Carmen"Thank you Carmen. Was it liiiikke....." lower lip nibbled in thought "... the get away from here right now sort of spooky? Cause with monsters you just want to hide, right? Without Dire there... would you have run away as fast as you could?"
if they're going there, in any shape or form
he wants to know what he's getting into
and there's nothing better than a child's blatant yelling whisper type of honesty(rune)
"Yeah, because religious revivals wherein people get blinded are so obviously natural and clearly not something a Garou should investigate until it starts biting the kinfolk you know in the ass." The Glass Walker mumbles, dark eyes narrowed and sharp, but focused on her beer. "So, it's a chemical spill or something ancient and sleeping, or maybe something ancient and sleeping doesn't like chemical spills. You know if that spill was ever cleaned up, Mick?"Absolutely. the reply quiet in James' mind. Might be best if we can get the samples. I know a couple of labs that're run by Glass Walker kin that can do that sort of thing, but wouldn't want to expose another kin to this sort of thing.
Her attention shifts, not as Zoe walks into the room, but as Dire says the kinfolk's name. The Glass Walker turns around then, accepting the beer from Mick with a grateful glance, but relegating it to the bar as she walks across the room toward Zoe.
"Zoe?" Rune asks, perhaps a little too loud (it's her eyes, not her ears, that were affected) and touching the kinfolk beneath the elbow to lead her to the bar. "It's Rune. I'd like to have Imogen examine your eyes."
(dire)
*he srugs at Rune. WHat the hell does he care if a couple more humans get burned and blinded for poking about the woods or what not. It's not like they are superman, or even batman for that matter. They are garou.
He watches Zoe*(carmen)
She beams up at her Dire for the praise, and then her attention is on the man with da funny hair again. wonder if its like a...a...spring...does it boing? but course, she wouldn't dare (...when he's awake...) and she shifts baby 'manda to her other arm..
She, for a four year old, gives that question a lot of thought.... before finally.. (mere seconds that last forEVer..)
"Not...zactly. It was da kinda scarey that you knowed you hadta look and see waht it was else'n'you'd never ever get ta sleep... like.. ya just gotsta know what it is... even though your scared...hopin maybe its good even if you thinks its prolly not..." she tries to put it into limited words.. and then her eyes lower from his face (hair!) and very very softly, not even the yelling whisper.. barely heard. "likes.. when I hoped momma was sleepin, and poked her, though I knowed she wasn't gonna wakes up.. dat kinda hope..."(mick)
"I don't remember. I think some sort of clean up happened....." Mick listens. He was not apart of their pack. He was Garou, and he should care though, right? Right.
(dire)
*he gently rubs Carmens back hearing that tone.*(zoe)
. . .Small smile. She hardly seemed bothred by the din, hours and hours and hours of meditations had helped in discerning necessary sounds and relegating the rest to whitenoise. Her face turns to Rune. She knew where the woman was, despite the touch."Hello Rune. We've quite the gathering tonight it seems. And please, I hear just fine."
A nod for Dire, his greeting having pinpointed him in the room, mostly, and again back to Rune. . .
"Corran has seen to them already but if you wish."
(rune)
"Imogen's a forensic specialist. Perhaps something she finds can help us. If possible, we might also have an eye specialist see you. Special equipment and all that," The Glass Walker's heels clatter on the polished wood floor as she steers Zoe back toward the bar. She even manages to pull a stool out for the kinfolk, before returning to her own. Her eyes flicker over Zoe and Mick, as she asks a general question. "...anyone know whether there's a specific time of day when these things happen? Was it day or night when you went, Zoe?"(james)
sometimes, adults just don't hear things
like warnings, for instance
maybe it's pride, or logic, or misplaced heroic rationale
but adults sometimes question the things they shouldn't
kids, though, tend to take things at face value
until someone teaches them otherwise
until someone teaches them that bias
and he's hoping, for now, that Carmen's still unbiased
his head tilting, dreads swinging across shoulders, at her taleoff the barstool he slides
right on down into a crouch infront of her
Rune's taken care of Zoe
so he'll concentrate on the kid"I know that feeling, Carmen." there's a lingering sadness in his eyes, in the softness of his voice, and it shows he appreciates the thought she put into answering the question, things like this aren't easy for a four year old, or anybody, for that matter "Sorta like when you watch a scarey movie? You cover your eyes with your hands because you know it's gonna be scarey, but then peek through your fingers cause of the curiosity?" trying to help as he can with her limited vocabulary
he wants to make sure he gets this right
nodding towards his recently vacated stool"Wanna hop up and tell us all?"
Mick may not be pack
Dire may not be pack
but this is important to them all(dire)
*Dire watches James talk to Carmen with raised brows. Not mad at all just curious. He'd put her on her own stool but if James wanted her to move he guesses that's cool too. He gently rubs her back so she'd know it's ok to talk if she wanted to*(zoe)
"It was a beautiful sunny day, Rune. Then I heard the voice, which called to my weeping soul, and the sky wept too.". . Really an odd way of phrasing that, with her soft smile and calm composure. Seating herself as Rune assists, she sets her staff aside, picking out other voices. Carmen, Dire, Rune, and others she did not know. In time, introductions perhaps.
"If you feel it necessary Rune, but I don't think this is a physical problem with my eyes. Its spiritual. Are we alone enough to discuss this? Rhya has shed some light on things. . ."
Letting her words trail off because while she might know people were about and who they were, the room was not an open vista to her. No idea how truly close others might be or how secure things were for speech. . .
(carmen)
She glances up at her Dire, and then back to James who comes down a bit to her level - cuz, even on a stool, she's pretty short. Maybe he ment put her on da bar, cuz she is da littlest one here... and she looks into that sadness, and little fingers reach out to touch his cheek..
sympathy
empathy
understanding of what it means to be so terribly sad about something even though ya gotsta move on.
She listens.. carefully, to that.. and giggles.. "nots'posed ta watch scarey movies... but I see'd one on holloween once.. wit'th'mummy... and... yeah. dats how it feeled.. an I was so scared it was likes I couldn't breath but I wanted to looks really bad - but I'ma good pup and dire tole me not too..."
She nods... and looks at the bar, and shrugs lil shoulders a lil bit.. "if'n ya want me too..cuz, yannow, I's not shy.." Grinned, brightly, if briefly..(rune)
"Where were you when you heard the voice, Zoe? Is that why you started walking toward the damn river?" There's an undercurrent of tamped down frustration in her voice - a response, no doubt, to the Kinfolk's serene response and the religious mumbo-jumbo she's spouting. Half-a-glance around the room, taking in the whole of the space, before the Glass Walker returns her attention to the kinfolk. "It's just Garou and kin, here, Zoe. You, me, Dire, Mick, Mick's dad, my packmate James, and Carmen. So you can talk freely."What did Rhya say?"
(james)
there's that moment of drawn out silence before she answers
one lost a parent, the other lost a child
the loss isn't exactly the same
but there are commonalities in the savagery of grief
and his cheek curves into a little bit of a smile beneath her touch
yea.... he understands what she felt, allright
for that long moment there's no question between them"Whatever makes you more comfortable telling us everything you think we need to know about what happened, Carmen, because what you know is just as important as what Dire and Mick and Zoe know, in order for us to figure out what's happening."
he's halfway listening to the other conversation
his head filled with the information that Rune's gathering
just as he's sharing what he gathered with her
that draw
that irresistable pull which has lead to what some call a revelation, an epiphany
and what others see as harm
(ain't that always the way)"And you're right, you're a good pup for listening to him, because it kept you from getting hurt. He's teaching you well." Yes. That was a compliment on Dire. Who'da thought? "Is there anything else we should know?"
with Dire's touch at her back
and the way he asks the question
it's obvious whatever she feels she needs to say is allright
a flickered glance up at the Skald, and the Fianna
free for all, folks, add in when appropriate(zoe)
We were between the village and the river, about to head for Rhya's camp, when I heard it. But more then that, I felt it, like the pulse of the Earth. I followed it, to the river. . .". . .And the rest was history, so to speak, but she lets it trail off. Had thought Gaia had shown herself that day. She knew otherwise now, but still, it had been so, well words didn't describe what the eye couldn't even comprehend without failing.
"The spirits of this area are wary, very quiet about whats happening. From what he tells me, there are two spirits in this place. He is concerned that it struck me because of some ancient animosity against the garou, having heard my dream. I cannot truly say, but I've heard a name numerous times, which might be who it is that is working here."
Letting them digest that before continuing. So muich she could say, so much left unsaid. No, Rune's frustration not unnoticed. But what could she expect? Rune had not seen the light, the images, the beauty. . maybe not Gaia, but still so powerful it befuddled the senses. . .
(dire)
*he smiles to James and to Carmen listening to them all. Learning what he can*(rune)
"Christ." The Glass Walker mumbles beneath her breath, as she absorbs Zoe's statement. Like her packmate, she's paying some attention to the other conversation behind her, and much like her packmate, she flickers a glance around the assembled Garou, inviting further questions beyond her own. "Didn't it bother, you, Zoe, hearing a voice in your head that you'd never heard before? Did you feel the eeriness of the place?"The spate of questions is interrupted by another long drag on her cigarette. The Glass Walker closes her eyes as she feels the thread of nicotine - calming, so faintly calming - spreading through her system. "What name did you hear?"
(carmen)
A glance is spared mis'Zoe - cuz she really likes her, and brows knit, and she shakes her head..
"wasn't pretty and stuffs.. not da feeling.. it wasn't. Not all the way.. nots likes that - leastwise, not for me...."
And then eyes widen...
You know how it is when you're trying so hard to remember, you forget one little tiny detail that mights be important? And then it all floods back, and she looks up at Dire, then back to James.. "I forgots to tell yous bout da voices... was silly.. cuz it wasn't like I heard you guys talking.."
gestures a little, her brows knitting agian in order to make the distinction.."out here but it was in here" she points to her head and whispers. "kinda silly huh?"
But then she swings her legs just a little bit.. but not enough to hit him. He understands, he smiled, and he's not no meany boogerbreath like dekah.
"da words didn' make no sense atall... they was all bungled up funny and not even likes it was a different kinda words, like whens you from another place? but like.. all jumbled up together... I only member one word tho...."(dire)
*he looks down at Carmen. she hadn't mentioned voices before*(Mick)
Mick watches the happenings as if someone had invited the whole insane asylum into his pub. Quiet curiousity flickers over his features as he tries to keep track of both conversations.(zoe)
. . Long minutes she is silent after Rune asks her first quetion. The personal whys and whatfors not something she wanted to delve into again. That pain had healed, mostly. Finally, with a deep breath she nods to Rune."Normally, maybe Rune, but this voice whispered to the deepest part of me, the part that hurt and wept, and soothed it. It felt so. . powerful. .I could see why they claimed it was God they saw here, only I thought perhaps Gaia was touching me. It rained when I cried that day, and drew me to a place where the worst of my pain was salved, by seeing what I did in the Mullica."
Sad, serious note in her voice, even saying this much of her soulfelt pain. She wasn't one to bare such things for public light, and especially with people she knew somewhat or not at all. . .
"The name I heard. . . The Song Maker. . .The Blue Mountain."
(james)
he can't help but grin
not at the sudden enlightenment spreading over the child's face
not at that sudden brightening as things fall into place she's been searching for"Silly? Nah." chuckled "I? For a fact, know that's possible."
a little of the streetcorner performer showing up in his words
the way they roll off his tongue to snag attention and keep it
entertainment is his lifeblood"Will you tell us the word, Carmen? Or if you're not comfortable saying it can you write it down for us?"
some four year olds can write - some can't
and he's not sure which category she falls into
but the invitation to show off her writing skills is there if she has them
because he knows sometimes it's easier to write or draw something than it is to say it
and frankly?
he's not sure if whether or not saying it versus writing it would give it more power
he knows with some words and things they gain power through transformation
or you can gain unwanted attention by the simple utterance of a name
and right now that's the last thing he needs
(especially coming from the mouth of babes)
so let's play up her showing offbesides, you can burn a piece or paper or a napkin
you can't un-say a word(dire)
*he raises his brows looking over at Zoe and then to Mick... hadn't he said those same words? He looks back to Carmen*(carmen)
Oh yes, eyes widen and she looks absolutely thrilled with the concept. "is possible? can you do it? cuz I thinks.. if its not all garbled up n stuffs, it'd be pretty cool.. like a secret code.." She nods.. and then...
he asks the other questions..
and she can right a leetle... but she's not really sure how to spell it...
"was kinda a funny word.. buts I kin try to writes it.. not sure I could says it.."
not sure she should either.. that's kinda obvious... and James is given a nod and she shifts on her stool to sit on her knees and then she looks at Dire.. and hands him her doll..
"hold 'manda please? and does you gotsa pen n paper?"
the last directed at James...(dire)
*He takes the doll and smiles patting his pockets and comes up with a dollar and hands it to her to write on*(mick)
Mick slides paper and pen across to the girl.....listening now with more curiousity as Zoe speaks of the Blue Mountains...(rune)
Rune stares at Zoe, speechless for the moment. Perhaps it is merely the skeptical Glass Walker's thoroughly modern mindset, perhaps she simply lacks some natural level of empathy which is usually attributed to most women, but she cannot imagine following such a voice. Even still - even when voice gives voice to what it said, and how it touched her, perhaps especially now that Zoe has given voice to such - the Glass Walker cannot begin to imagine following such a voice, prefering her pain (if indeed, she feels such) unsoothed to strange revelations.After a moment, she draws a breath and flickers a glance toward Zoe. "You still feeling better, even now that you know what it wasn't?" Then she looks toward Mick and Dire, dark eyes falling briefly on Carmen as she hands her doll to James (the ghost of a smile, barely seen, quickly gone). "That ring any bells for you, Mick?"
(james)
good, the kid caught on
she's as sharp as Dire's made her out to be"Some people can do it. Mick, may we borrow a pe...."
glanced up at the Fianna as he's already on the ball
at least he was making the attempt to be polite in another's territory
there's a bit of a chuckled grin, there
returning his attention to that all but forgotten beer, too"Give it your best shot, it's okay to spell how you think it sounds, too."
yes, we're adults
between us all we'll be able to figure it out(mick)
"Yeah. The mountains anyway...." He says quietly, not liking the idea of sharing his dreams with anyone it would seem.(zoe)
"Whatever the reason why, Rune, I would still have followed it. I learned something that day, and gained something, despite my eyes. It could have been so much worse. I don't expect anyone to understand, as I barely understand . . ."Slightest edge of frustration, as if the right words to explain just won't come. How do you tell someone that you would rather find some divine power to cling to in your lonliness then continue to walk it by yourself? You don't. You just leaveit be.
"I'm not sure about the mountains, but in my dream the battle I saw created mountains, and within the earth was locked one of the combatants."
A tinge to her voice now, like pain. He had been so. . breathtaking. . she still did not understand why the garou had been attacking him. . .
(dire)
*He sniffs the air and looks over to Zoe and Rune* Seems like the answers might be out there in the Barrens underground some how... You've both mentioned mountains..the river flows red like the blood of a combatant.... Perhaps in a warren or a ... lair... a cave? Sounds like mayby we should look for those?(rune)
"You saw a battle in your dream?" Rune snuffs her cigarette and drags her palm pilot across the bar, frowning as she checks the battery level. The stylus dances as she makes a few quick notes for later review. "Were you dreaming before, or after this happened, Zoe? And can you tell me more about the battle?"Dark eyes rise from the little tech device to fall on Mick. "This sound like your dreams, too?"
(carmen)
She's a good pup. She smiles at James (and sun breaks through the clouds) before she takes the dollar - and briefly considers saving it for candy bar later, but she puts it on the bartop and things. real. hard. for a moment or two.
A scratch of her temple and then she starts to write. Shakey at best - she's just learning and all.
Little tongue sticks out of the corner of her mouth, little brow furrowed as she consentrates, and she does her best...
backwards L...
Shakey circled O...
Frustrated sigh as she tries to member... "h is likes a ladder right?" and she does so - somewhat lopsided H
not quite even ML O H M
She points to it and looks at james and then clearifies.. "buts not all smooshed together. likes dis.."
She points to the L (el..) she points to the O (oh) she points to the HM together (him)... "See?"
She's really trying hard to make sure James understands...(dire)
*He watches her intently and tilts his head a little. Smiles and nods that she did right but it's not a word he knows.*(mick)
"I didn't see any battle. I saw the Appalachian mountains...I know they were the appalachia because I lived there once....not in them but close....." he shrugs looking from Rune to Zoe to Carmen to Dire to James.(james)
One contained in the earth..... deep in the bowels beneath the mountains, a river of blood pouring from its wounds. there's a bit of a smirk edging the words in his packmate's mind Doesn't that sound... peachy. and too damned fucking familiar Who were the combatants again? he's only been paying half attention to their conversation, at best, and making sure he didn't miss somethingthen back to watching Carmen write
lips moving in semblance of sounding it out
silently
as she points
el.... o.... him
oh.
..... oh.
and a brow lifts"Yeh, I see, thank you Carmen."
(dire)
*He looks to James and raises his brows to see if it ment something to him*(Mick)
It means nothing to Mick....he just stares.....(zoe)
"The night I was blinded is when the dream came. Before that, the only thing I had even felt was a strange melancholy around Batsto. I was going to investigate, but well, it seemed I was going to become involved instead."Deep, relaxing breath, recalling the details of that dream. It had been so. . .well unlike other dreams. Her mother had been one to have dreams, in their family. She had never seen anything of any importance in hers, until that night.
"It was darkness, like I see most of the time now. But eventually I start to see what appears to be a man, in the distance. Of him all I can say is he was so incredibly beautiful, only that word doesn't seem to quite cover it. Something beyond even merely beautiful. He was thrashing, and I was slowly able to see someone attacking him. It was a Garou, in his warform, at least as a manwolf. Earthquakes spread out from the battle, which left devastation and mountains in their wake. I wanted to do something, stop it maybe, but it felt old, like something that had already gone by and all I could do was watch. Eventualoly the beautiful one was trapped in an abyss within the earth, locked beneath geological locks of plates and such. Another man joined the Garou and they chanted a binding which was when I heard that name. . the name was so intense, like it had to be known. . . The Song Maker. . The Blue Mountain."
Yes, she's told this story a few times it seemed, but still a soft pain as she speaks. For what its unclear. . .
(mick)
"What'd she say? Elohim?" The old man in the back of the bar says in a scruffy voice.(carmen)
She lets out a sigh of relief and smiles at him. "Oh good.. cuz I don'ts think I spelled it rights but dats how it sounded..."
She nods, and then reaches back for her doll from Dire with a bright smile of the "lookit i HELPED!" varity before she turns back to james...
and stops.. looking around, little curls bouncing over her shoulders as she searches for the voice.. "that's it! what he said! dats da word!"(dire)
*He blinks looking up*(zoe)
. . Herself listening to the strange word. . . was that an angel from the bible . . .(james)
even without the benefit of the totem phone
the look at Dire is all he needs to answer the browed query
brows furrowing through search of memoryGaia bless the Frankenweilers.
though the revelation isn't a pleasent one
his voice but a murmur"That's the name of the one true "God"... not Gaia."
and he doesn't mean the forgiving loving God, either
Elohim the Judge, Jury, and Exocutioner(dire)
*he nods a bit* I think I remember a story about angels or something from my puppyhood... now that you mention it James yuff..... Wasn't there a Michael and a Gab....rie....l... * his brows raise* Ok... that's creepy(carmen)
SHe's not sure about all this god and gaia stuffs, so she is quiet again.. only adding.. "was da only word dat wasn't all jumbled together with da other words.."
She's never heard speaking in tongues. Never been in a church, never had any of that kind of experience to fall back on. she shrugs tho, and looks up at Dire.. "you thinks I kin have a soda?" all dis talkin and thinkin is thirsty business...(rune)
The Glass Walker watches Zoe patiently, and takes down some of the particulars on the palm pilot, easier to remember that way. Spirits and mysteries and... well, ancient battles are not exactly within her realm of expertise. They're more within the realm of the stories she sort of crossed her eyes and drowned out, when they were told (rarely, if at all) back home.Real peachy, another few words, totemphone and all, threaded with sardonic amusement. Combatents were a Garou and someone else, then they bound the spirit beneath the earth. Just, lovely. Know anything about appeasing spirits with a big old axe to grind who were bound beneath the earth, say, thousands and thousands of years ago?
The Glass Walker's eyes flicker back toward Zoe, then - refocusing distinctly, as she returns her concentration to the kinfolk. "Can you describe the Garou in his warform? What his fur looked like, and so on? And just to clarify, the titles you spoke were refering to the captured spirit, right?"
(dire)
*He nods to her and smiles* Yes, and some food too.(zoe)
"Rhya asked me too, but I can't seem to recall. . . like maybe it wasn't important or wasn't something I was supposed to see. It was the name that was important, the name they used to bind the man.". . .Dear Gaia, how did a self proclaimed pagan become one of the focal points of a christian religious revival? It did not make sense that "god" would touch her, when she reverred another deity. . .
(james)
Not off the top of my head, sadly.... shall we just throw Decker and his big axe and attitude at it and call it even? she can feel the grin, even if it doesn't show on his face, trying to find something humorous in this sudden... dire... feeling that's spreading over him"Yeh Dire, the ArchAngels. Michael is judgement's sword. Raphael ... God has healed.Gabriel is the power of God. There's others but those are the top three."
his gaze flicks back towards the old man in the corner
"There anything else you can add, sir?"
he is, after all, the one that spoke the name aloud
(carmen)
She smiles brightly up at ehr Dire, and listens to the others as the conversation works around her.. at least, until Mic remembers the promised food (helped by another loud whisper) and her soda, and that consumes much of her attention.(dire)
*he nods* ANyone find it weird that the elder that lives in the woods is named Gabriel?(rune)
Rune absorbs the information quietly, red mouth set into a casual line. Think throwing Decker and his attitude at it would be considered cruel an unusual, even for whatever it is. The words are accompanied by a flickering glance, appreciative of the attempt at humor. Shame it's not female, or we could send Luc to seduce - or at least ogle - it.Rune runs her hands through her hand and shifts her hip against her barstool, rising to sit on it at last before lighting another cigarette.
"Had anymore dreams since then?" Dark eyes encompass more than Zoe - Mick, the old man at the table, Carmen.
(dire)
Mayby it's something HE battled in the past.. or an ansestor did... I'm very connected to my ansestors.... sometimes they peak though me.. perhaps....?(zoe)
"No, Rune, I haven't, only had this one reinforced. Its the name, I tell you. . I hear it often.". . Not all she heard, but she hadn't been able to understand, not like Carmen. How very very interesting. . .
(carmen)
She slows down after the first few bites, and even ofers Dire one-a her fries, and then almostly shyly (but she's not shy) offers some to James too... she can'ts eat dem all by herself.. but she's making fast work of that burger, though.. A smile is offered mis'Rune too, and she makes sure that baby'manda gets some of her fries.
She doesn't make much of the rest of the conversation.. gods and angels and misser'oak whos name is likes one, or that she 'membered da name and not mis'Zoe..
All things are new to a little girl.
All things are bright discoveries..
All things are always just as they should be... cuz she don't know no different.(dire)
*He smiles to Carmen and takes the fry and nods sagly to her. whispers8 Your the best pup ever. So smart. So observent. Gaia loves you.(mick)
Mick's eyes slip back over to his dad as well, a brow arched in surprise that the old man even spoke a word to the strangers. In the meantime, Nicholas O'Leary peers at them all with green eyes like his sons. "Well, Elohim are the fallen angels, pretty much what that boy over there said....ain't heard nothing called Elohim referenced with Gaia...."(dire)
*he arks a brow.*(james)
"Now? No. But it's just figuring out the connection... if there is one, Dire."Will Gabriel become the power of this God?
Will Gabriel become the power of their God?
Will Gabriel sit happily in his camp and let them deal with this?when she lights up, he steps over a pace and snags the pack before she puts it away, brow lifting quizzically Maybe Livingston can just show up with some good weed and chill out it's perma-PMS? chuckled across her senses, but it shows how close their pack is, to be able to joke like this in times that don't exactly look too... peachy. Thanks. lit smoke waved in gesture before he turns back to the elder Kin
yes, a Garou called a kin "sir"
what next?
a Garou munching on a Get kin kid's fries, that's what.
far be it from him to turn down food
making sure the cigarette smoke stays as far away from her as possible"Thank you Carmen. And the fallen angels? Will you tell me more... uh.." realizing he doesn't really know the kin's name, he'll stick with "sir?"
(dire)
*he listens leaning on the bar for the story*(carmen)
She smiles up at Dire, and practically GLOWS under his praise , whispering "n'I loves you." before she turns back to her food, and flashes a grin of welcome at JAmes, and half listens to everything around her..(zoe)
"Why a fallen angel would touch me. . . ". . . Devout pagan, as far as Christians were concerned. She reverred Gaia after all, served her. Listening to the strange man, even more curious and wondering if any new revelations had yet to be seen. . .
(dire)
More important, if a fallen angels tries and touches others... can we kick it's ass? * a soft grin lets them know he's kidding..... mostly* I didn't see anything touch her.... I was there... she just looked into the river.(rune)
An aimless nod of welcome in James' direction as he lights up - when did you start smoking? - and but this time, she doesn't ask."I don't know, Zoe," murmured, the most faint of shrugs accompanying the words. "Maybe it's just the spirit - or whatever was bound - picking up on threads of thoughts in those in town. Finding a name amidst the many that pops into their head when they think they see god. Maybe it's more specific, but I can't say that I really believe in the bible or its angels." None of this really makes sense to Rune, and for the moment all she can do is compile the data and find someone who can - perhaps - shed a little more light on this. "Mick, did you dream of a specific place in the Appalachians?" Dark brow rising as she shifts her attention back to the Fianna.
(mick)
The Fianna runs a hand through his auburn hair while his eyes finally leave his old man. "If I had to guess...I....I'd say it was closer near the Black Mountains....."(zoe)
"I can't say I understand near half of this, but I was hoping to find the others who were blinded. I wanted to compare experiences, see if there were common threads and such.". . . Black mountains? She had heard Blue Mountains in the dream. But could mean so many things.
"That or visit the Mullica again."
(carmen)
Al this talk of mountains and angels and gods.. well, its kinda big for the little girl to handle, so she falls back into the promised silence, between bites, and little coos and conversation for baby'manda. She does keep a close watch on Dire, and james ('s hair..) and mis'Rune mis'Zoe..She's gots sumpin to tell mis'Rune too.. but still, she's patient, cuz grownups stuffs gotsta be talked bout first. yup.(james)
when I ran out of things to do with my hands
it's in the grin, but not said, either
and his voice drops to a chuckled muse"Why would the Fallen reach out and touch someone, promise them the absolution of all their pain if they'd just take that sweet step over.... whatever the cost is can't seem too much when it's compared to taking the lonliness away, can it, Zoe? How sweet was temptation's song in your mind...."
there's an edge to it
way down deep
he's heard songs like that before(rune)
"I'm not familiar with this coast." Rune responds with a faint, lifting shrug. "Can you tell me where the Black Mountains are? Couldn't hurt." The palm pilots batteries were going dead, so she saves what she has thus far and turns it off. There's a glance for Zoe then, sharp-eyed and hidden from the now-blind woman. "I'd rather you not visit the Mullica again, at least not until we have a better idea of what the hell is going on.""Who knows - " oh, that. The sharp look slides toward James. The edge in his voice. The implications she had never quite considered. Nostrils flare in a half-breathed snort. " - what it might say to you, this time."
(zoe)
. . . How could they understand? They didn't know her, anything about her really. Gaia, they shared a pack with Decker and he was part of her pain. Falling silent on her stool, the soft serenity has been lost somewhere, and she is just silent. . . and sightless. Turning thought s over in her head. Maybe she had done this to herself, but even so, there was littel else she could have done. That was the problem. Nothing she could do, and no one to turn to. . was why she had been ready for anyone's comfort in that time. Let them judge her. It was nothing new, stargazer, fool, pathetic. . .a number of things they might think. Luc had said some of them, as well. She just listens, offering nothing more. . .(mick)
" It's one of the higher parts of the Blue Mountains...it's in North Carolina east of the Mississippi River....." His arms cross over his chest as he watches the lot of them in his pub. He's quiet, speaking only when spoken too ....(carmen)
She tips her head - slight, but there, as Mis'zoe goes quiet. And so does Dire, who listens and tries to put it together in his own mind, and she finishes of her burger and lets James have the rest of her fries as dark eyes go from one to the other to the other to the other and back again...(james)
there's much he could say to her silence
it's shown in the beginning curl of lip over teeth
but he'd be no better than the revivalists in their righteous "glory" damning them for not coverting
if he damned her for what seems so far an honest mistake
(be careful of how things appear, Jamey-boy)"You may find safety in your silence or help us, Zoe, but I agree with Rune. Stay away from the Mullica..." wait, he didn't include a preference... that was more of a firm suggestion "..next time you may pay a dearer price than your sight for your... angel's.... touch."
it's a flat statement
openly implying death may be an option
though he doesn't say whom it will come from"You think about that, next time you're feeling it's gift of serenity."
okay, now is a good time to concentrate on that cigarette, James
that.... pink?.... cigarette
he stole it, he can deal with it
a glance to Rune
noting Mick's silence
he doesn't want to overstay their welcome
(if they haven't already)
but it's her decision(mick)
"If you ever need to go, I know the area pretty well..." He shrugs, cleaning up the bar in quiet thought once more.(zoe)
"I know the area well too, when I could still see it.". . .Weeks and weeks of time spent wandering the wilds and lonely stretches of the Pine Barrens, for meditation, quiet, or merely exercise. Her head turns, sightless eyes falling on where james voice came from. She did not know him, except as Rune's packmate. Had seen him once (in rage go figure) at Eliza's after the debacle. . .
"I've given you what I know. Rhya brought me here because it was our hope that my presence would perhpas jog new pieces of the puzzle. That perhaps the spirit would speak once more. It was not malevolent last time. Unlike the others, I was only blinded, while they were burned for their sins."
(rune)
Pink cigarette. Hot pink. Bright pink. Strippa pink. The cigarette in James' hand draws a sharp smirk from Rune, when at last she realizes which color he stole. Of course, it wasn't that hard. She smokes everything else before deigning to smoke the pink ones, so odds were he'd end up with one, particularly in a pack that's been mostly smoked."Where are you staying, Zoe? I still want Imogen to examine your eyes, when you're available." The Glass Walker's mouth flattens into a faint, narrow line, and her shoulders rise and fall, gently, beneath her warm coat. "The offer's appreciated, Mick, and we might take you up on it, since that seems to be the only firm connection we have right now. If you or your father want to get out of here for a while, I could find you a place to stay. It's not exactly someplace I'd want to be, with these things going on." From within the folds of her wallet, tucked inside her winter coat, Rune pulls a small card. It does not contain her name, but does hold her cellphone and her email address. She hands it to Mick, offering, by way of explanation, "...if you need to get in touch with me."
The Glass Walker's eyes fall upon Carmen, then. "You know that you should let Dire know if you hear voices again, and that you shouldn't follow them if you hear them, right?" Her eyes flicker up to Dire. "The same offer goes, there. If you live too close to Batsto, I'll find you someplace else to live."
...and then, at last, back to James. Want to try to get some samples of the water, tonight, before we go home? her mindvoice is somber, and stark. ...maybe Mick has some old bottles or something we can use. Probably not sterile, but could be good enough, if they're looking for strange chemical residue rather than biological material.
(mick)
Mick nods, takes the card...."I think we'll be okay....we have been so far. The only ones I've seen effected thus far are the drunks and hags around here...." a pause...." I mean.....not that you're that of course Miss...." he offers apologetically to Zoe.(carmen)
She pushes her plate over to Mick as he starts cleaning the bar, and finishes off her soda as well..
She tries to hold back the giggle at the pink cigarette, looking up at James again and just grinning before spinning on her stool a little..
And staring at mis'zoe.. burned for being bad? dats not good at all.. she's glad she's a good pup.. she'll be even better now! even though she's always trying to be good..
She nods as Rune speaks to her, vigorously, hair tumbling cascade over little shoulders. "I will mis'Rune.. I'll do just likes you n my Dire says.."
Dire said she should anyway, cuz Rune is that silly word.. ri-ah.. and eventhough she's sometimes mean she's never been meaned to her so she's gotsta be cool.
and then there's da makeup. Rune's just perfect in her gaze...
wonder if she getsta play with James' hair...(james)
in rage
against his packmate
the one that causes a part of her pain
go figure.
even if she can't see his wry grin, she can hear it"Any idea what it is you're being kept from seeing, rather than what not seeing has opened your eyes to? I don't customarily doubt when I wasn't there, but I hardly find blinding someone benevolent. Blinded, burnt - they're both methods of distraction and harm. Just like you... I'm only trying to understand."
weren't you supposed to be holding your tongue, James?
pinning it with smoke?
or something?
he shakes it off
damn tiny crescent moon in the sky
and already his temper's beginning to niggle upwards
can't wait for a week and a half from now
whee!Yeh, I could use a walk. Time to process this.
(dire)
Dire nods, and adds something of a gruff thanks "We're ok where we are for now, but thank you, Ryha"(zoe)
"Rhya has been caring for me, when I am not here.". . . Implications being she stays with him at his camp, voice quiet. Rhya was already a bit miffed at the number of people visiting out there since he took her under his care.
"But he prefers his privacy. Perhaps I might meet her here whatever day she wishes."
Eerie how she follows their voices, watching them like she could still see. This time Mick earns her gaze and she softly smiles, gentle, knowing. . .
"No offense taken Mick."
(zoe)
"James, you seem to lack faith in any sort of higher calling. Let me see if I can break this down for you.". . .An edge to her voice now. Blind leading the blind truly.
"What do you think would happen if a purely human mind was confronted with something so utterly above human? The mind cannot comprehend, cannot process what it sees. My belief. What I saw was so beyond my ability to realize, so profound, so beautiful, that it blinded me with its light. It felt divine, and whatever it is now, it has not harmed me beyond this? Is being blind so terrible? Its made me see in other ways, and reevaluate myself, and the world around me. Does Eliza find life so terribly unbearable for not having eyes?"
Falling sile
Posted by james at 12:00 AM