December 31, 2003.12.31.03. - call on the barking chain [city gnawers] *sd[forum]
(smokey)
Smokey sat in the leather chair 'throne' of the empty and abandoned building he called home. As he inhaled off the illegal cigar, alchohal laced thoughts ran though his head. Thoughts of what he saw in the Caern. The spawning pit and the warrior banes. In the heart of one of Gaia's fortresses. Thoughts of running alone. When he left New York, two promised they'd come right behind. They never did, and now he lives in the wholey unsetteling and, to his mind, just plain wrong state of solitude. And now he had the constant shadow of a threat in his mind. It had been growing for awhile, slowly creeping up in his thoughts in a way humans will never understand, in a way only his spirit blood can detect. He figered it was too much weed at first. He had found a girl that might be his mate if they kept up, and he had rumors of BSDs and maneaters going after kin. He probably was just worried for her.Talking to James left no doubt in his mind that was not was he was feeling.
But despite all he'd seen in this city, outside of the jaunt to the caern unity was not listed among said sites. Two packs and a handful of rag tags like himself. Yeah, real cooperation. You know what? Fuck it. He stood and closed his eyes, the power of Gaia flowing through his veins. In mere moments, his Mother's gift had run its course and he was sober. He waited a second... yep still want to this... and headed out the back door.
He shifted as he enter the overgrown yard, paying no mind to whatever hellish spirit of sarrow or ghosts that haunted the treehouse there in. The wolf-dog prowled around the area, thinking of how to put this. Maybe he was just misinformed. Maybe he was out of the loop. But damnit a Galliard's job isn't just telling stories. They inspire the others, give them the urge to keep going. Weather its his place or not he isn't sure. At under twenty years old he already was noted (among his own tribe atleast) as more then honorable enough for most Fostern of his moon. And he'd seen places where twenty was a revered fricken elder for the warriors of Gaia. But there was a fostern in the city, and he hadn't said anything... Eh, screw it. What are they gonna do? Kill him? Big deal, if this goes Perfect he is pretty sure he might die anyway. And so with no further ado he looks up the sky, and begins his howls and yips, doing whatever the hell it is Gnawers do to get the other cainies to carry on their message in all directions.
((loosley translated from the bastard language 'Dog', subset and stepchild of 'Wolf'))
"Call it out of place if you want, but I'm kind of sick of this shit. I got the feeling shit is going down, I know one other that hears this does too. I can only assume, everyone that will hear this does. The Caern is dying. Not slowly chocking and weathering away, being strangled and stabbed while we sit back and wonder what to do. I have been there recently, when Eagle and Smashing Machine's pack led a journy to check on its health. I am doubting fighting banes in one of the Wyrm's spawning pools in the same building is a good sign. We must act, and we must act yesterday! Tell your alphas, tell your freinds, tell your pack and all packs you know, even the lone wolves. We all need to get togather on this as fast as possible, and act the second we have decided what must be done. I don't have the pull to call a meeting, but damnit I demand one. Smashing Machine was Mr. Leader Man last I heard, if anyone can get up with him, tell him what I said. I am Death~Breathes~Life, Moon Dancer of Rat."
(jim)
Jim stops as he roots through a pretty good stash of trash and looks up his ears perking at the barks that filter through the city. Shifting to better understand it. he sits on his haunches in the dumpster he had been digging through and listens. Soon after He was back in homid form and he grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and headed through the twisted city streets toward his pack's den in chinatown to pass along the message.((All members of The Quick Take it that Jim let you in on the Info))
(sputnik)
Filthy metis mongrel that he was full-blown crinos; neighter wolf nor man, but a twisted amalgamation of both species rolled up into one sickening furry package. Black-grey ears swivel atop his head, patches of various shades of grey and black ran throughout his fur, the large paws of the lupine press deep impressions into the trash bags of the trash heap he perches upon.The barks came down the chain, head cants upward to listen carefully, absorbing the information like a sponge. Sputnik knew Smokey, the black Gnawer he had encountered on the mission to the caern's heart. Sputnik knew things were growing worse, he had seen the wretching pain that Whispers was in. The reminder tore at his heart-strings, bouncing horrific images in the wolf's brain that made his tail curl down between his legs, muscles coil underneath the heavy fur coat and his head lower to the ground. Left paw rubs over his head and ears several times, trying to shakes away the memories... Sputnik must help! Whispers must not die! Sputnik know this and he shouldn't allow it to happen.
Barks over the chain 'Rally. Gather others.. come together and do something. Packless and Packed, they were Gaians first, men and wolves second.'
Loud, gutteral barks erupt from the heavy bass that constantly rolls in the Russian wolf's chest. The sort of howl that once haunted the blackened, poverty-stricken streets of St. Petersburg... Ah, Sweet Mother Russia, no time for her children to weep.
Bark Bark.. Meow. Hiss hiss. Bark Bark. Woof Woof barky woof woof. Translation? who the fuck knows!
(Sputnik's translation of the barking chain, sent back to Smokey)
"Little Black Brother, Sputnik hear and know your concern. Fought long side. Seen Caern spirit for self with own eyes. Dying, will die is dying with no aide . Need do something.. Gather to speak some cold night. I found always in skidrow.. Hewiit and vine neighborhood near Our Lady of Sacred Peace Homeless Shelter."
(james)
ever since getting back into the city, James endured this hitchy feeling
some dark storm cloud adding to the thunderheads already hovering over the Fostern Gnawer
(it wasn't just him, others were feeling it too)
the culmination of the mental tempest driving him to spend the night alone
withdrawn from the comforts of kinfolk family and pack
walking it off by roaming the streets in Chicago's unwelcoming winter cold
brooding. festering. winding tighter and tighter....
it's only the series of staccato barks and drawn out howls that pull him from seditious thoughts
(treasonous memories and treacherous heartbreak)even after shifting into lupus, the dreadlocks never fully disappear
they cascade down long back in a torrent of strangely arranged fur
the wolfish shepardly mongrel sinking haunches to filthy alley ground
head tilting so velvet ears radar foreward to the night's feral music
shoulders hunched so guardhairs bristle and thermoregulate the thick winter coatif a wolf could smile, perhaps the Ahroun would, listening to Smokey's ranting message
seems the kid does have the gall to match his presence
once the canid cacophany dies down, his head tilts again: this time distancing instead of focusing
(Totemphone: impressions form within the minds of Eagle's chosen warriors)
then soon enough James' chin lifts to add his song to the messages passedthough even in the language of animals the battlescar slur can be heard, the sounds clipped and edited by a jaw that will not move as it should to properly shape the barks, yips, and howls..... also, harmonized with a street performer's confidence is the underlying sorrow which mellows each tone, remembering how he and the Russian metis Theurge were the only to uphold the promise of giving whatever it was they could to instill a temporary strength, fending off Whisper's excrutiating pain for however long their offered gnosis would last, when the others all but abandoned the totem for the sake of another battle - it killed him not to rush to his packmate's aid, no matter how well he knows Decker's fighting ability (they are brothers in arms), but under no circumstances would he dishonor the ranking Modi's order to tend to the spirit's needs first, even if it meant the Ahroun would miss a battle
"I am Drums-on-Skulls, Fostern Full Moon of Eagle Pack.... we fought beside you at the Caern, and we hear your cries now. Those that wish to gather spread the word: find the station at West End and 54th when tomorrow's moon rises. Eagles will be waiting. Eagles will act."
(smokey)
Well that went better then he expected. After sitting and listening to the responses to his howls, and filtering out random crap from real dogs (Like I give a damn about your trash bin...) He shifted back up and nodded. Meeting will be tomorrow. Good. Bout fucking time. But first he needs to make a stop. Sputnik offered to replace his revolver when he dropped it in the umbra. Said his woman had connections. Well, he might need a really big for this shit...Posted by james at 12:00 AM.12.31.03. - catching up [dustin-tristan] *me[pack warehouse]
(james)
twenty minutes later
as a change of pace from previous weeks - the warehouse door is unlocked
the inside of the place is slowly but surely warming up
the Ahroun's little trick changing the temperature from what's on par with the night
to something a lot more comfortable when combined with the jumpstarted generator humming in the backgroundJames has settled within domesticity's island, back facing the door
legs swirling the pattern of BDU's into an indian-style criss-cross
his jacket and shirt(s) shrugged off onto the long abandoned mattress
dreads are tied back into some festive assortment beneath the faded bandana
smoke rising lazily from the Camel clamped between his teeth
long lines of his back are marred by the latticework of ashed scars
the savagery of which could have only been caused by chrinos claws
something filleted him open from shoulders to tailbonebut that's not what he's concentrating on
instead, some music plays softly from the boombox
and his head's bent to read the insert pulled from jewelcase
that, however, is carefully cradled in a rather bloody towel
more crimson dripping and drying from the lacerations covering his arms
at least with Rage blown - he's a far more inviting than imposing Garou(tristan)
Kemp stays back to talk to Danah, and will catch up. Smokes were bought, and with the last he had in his pocket he made sure they had at least a 6pack, unable to remember how much beer was at the warehouse anymore. It’s been a couple days since he’s made it inside after all. He’s been relatively quiet, but the calm that comes with knowing family’s home as brought that playful glint back to his gaze.Reaching the door, he grabs and pushes, and grins to find it open, bowing a little to Dustin. “After you.” Before he heads inside and toward the island of domesticity in the center of the mostly empty warehouse. The music playing widen’s that grin, and he even manages (in the face of blow Rage) a soft. “Hi honey, I’m home.” While setting down the beer, the pack of smokes, and moving instantly over toward his out of the way shelf to pull down his violin case. Over his shoulder. “Dustin, Gnawer kin - James, BeeGee Full moon and m’bro.” In introduction even as he’s opening the case and making sure his baby is in one piece.
(dustin)
Ok.
No problem- right? He enters the wherehouse. A quick glance around- yup this was the same place he had ran into when the --Quentin Tarantino- esque scene was taking place- the strider beaten to a pule- the piss stained handede theurge healing him- the chaos of that night--same place.
Different faces, but same place.
So that was James- heard bout him- not too much he was sure- but he had heard enough to know business was business-
Not a time for fun and games - nor jokes- he saw that with the reaction to the smartass kid on the street.
Glance to the bloody towel - good maybe his spleen would remain in his body another night. Garou made him nervous anyways.
The smile still spreads across his lips and he does make eye contact with the beast. "Hey" he does get one word out.
"Nicetameetcha" - look another word.(james)
dark eyes swing over his shoulder, holding Dustin for a few moments
battlescared Fostern sizing up the kin previously ignored
jaw drops a bit as cheeks collapse in inhale
soon enough a plume of smoke putting a hazy curtain between them
that's when the Ahroun twists to rise from the ground
case set carefully pack on top of the 'box
steps forming a far milder approach this time around"You been takin' care a m' boy?"
chin lifts up in a nod towards Tristan checking on his violin
(dustin)
Ok that was a question to him- first he had to shake the heebie jeebies from the stare he had received.
Clearing his throat - finding the vocal cords and summoning them to speak once more. "Tryin to" he nods. That was a fair enough answer. In fact he had tried - like- hell. Even got them a place to hide out at while --maneaters-- feasted on whatever was out there screamin bloody murder that night.Tristan in fact had taken care of him as well- funny how that was.
Shifting his weight a bit from foot to foot. eyes move to Tristan hoping for some help here.(tristan)
All in one piece. There’s no disguising the relief in his sigh as he runs fingers over gleaming wood, noting carefully the temperature and deciding to let it warm slowly along with the rest of the warehouse. And you can be damn sure that he’s not going to leave the warehouse without it again. His lively hood, the case at times his only protection, and well, his baby. He feels naked without it.He replaces it back on its shelf, all tucked away with care before he turns to join the other two in the ‘main’ area. Or so it would seem. He chuckles at that and sticks his tongue out at Dustin behind James’ back. “We been taking care of each other.” No need to say he put him up and spent his last dollar to make sure he had a place to sleep off his fever. “though he seems hard pressed to keep me out of trouble completely...” Oh there’s pure evil in that grin that is still behind James’ back, though voice remains even and easy.
(james)
the lanky Full Moon walks right on up to Dustin
still holding that, admittedly, unnerving gaze
if he can look Blood Eagle in the eye without turning away, sizing up a kin really isn't an issue
there's a bit of a grin that quirks lopsided at Tristan's explanation
then, with a final wipe of towel across bloody, swollen, and somewhat bruising hand
(what DID he beat the shit out of before heading back here??)
he holds it out to shake"Then pleas're's mine." spoken with that mangled-jaw induced slur "'n I owe ya one."
(dustin)
He - is- coming- towards- me.
Eyes watching the dreaded (literally) beast and he almost takes a step back - but he doesnt.
Pleasure?
he actually breathes a sigh of relief -oops-
and smirks a bit in embarrasment before offering a hand of his own.
"Must say, it was kinda a full time job" he chuckles - trying like -HELL - to relax a bit.
"Seems Tris here has been finding trouble even when he isnt lookin for it" he nods.
"But was no problem- actually kept me on my toes"(tristan)
He Chuckles, and swipes a clean towel to offer to his bro as he shakes his head., muttering.... “Not my fault I seem to be as tasty as I am pretty. Between Kemp and his girl and all the other shit, I’ve been hard pressed to breathe....”Grins as he winks at Dustin, before falling to sit on the couch, sprawled comfortably, near instantly. As hard as Dustin is trying to relax, it seems Tristan is completely at home in a way he hasn’t seen before.... even with worried family (both ways, thank you), he feels much better now that he’s home.
(james)
the Ahroun actually laughs at that
which may continue the unnerving motif because it's fairly obvious - not even counting the ability to see the wirey muscle flexing over forarm in the shake - that he could obliterate the boy without really thinking twice
and he's.... laughing"Foun' thatou' too, huh?" a strafing glance towards the prettyboi "Funny tha'..."
Tristan doesn't seem the only one that's completely changed
James also seems an utterly different being than Dustin previously witnessed
blowing off some steam definitely contributes to this switch in mood
but it seems he, too, prospers in the company of beloved family
even if there is still the underlying tension (heartbreak?) that's itching beneath his skin"Kemp'..... g'rl?"
deep umber eyes switchstance to the sprawled kinsman in something between curiosity and shock
there's a part of him - the manly man - that would begin to cheer the boy finally got laid
there's a part of him - the prudent Garou - that would begin to realize nothing is as simple as that around this pack
and by the time he's at the coffeetable and pulling out a longneck from the sixpack
one finger's held up for Tristan to just hold. that. thought.
first things first: one beer tossed to each of the kin
his own cracked open and over half drained
and then he? is taking his bloody self to the showerhe reeks of New York, subways, busses and whatever else he finagled to get back to Chicago
he is stressed out, pissed off, and far more grimey and worse for wear than anything
and now it seems like the night is going to involve one hellishly long series of explanations
so shower. now.(dustin)
"Shit, Kemps got girl problems i would wish on my worst enemy"
He takes the beer- and finds a spot next to Tristan on the couch. Eyes move to Tris then to James.
Ok so what up with going from raging bull to playful dog. Garou Mood swings were incredible.Not even explainable.
As soon as he opens the beer he is watching the Ahroun get up and head to --somewhere back there- which he can only assume is to the shower--or bed--or to go play more with whatever he could have back there beaten to a pulp.
Regardless-- he wasnt gonna inquire, he was just glad his organs were all still in tact.(tritan)
He chuckles and nods to the question. “Yeah...” and he starts to continue, but instead holds that thought. They have a lot to catch up on, and he grabs the beer, pops the top and toasts his boy. “Welcome home, pa...” with a wink.He takes his bloodied self to the shower, the water heater should be well and heated up now thanks to gift and generator, leaving the Ahroun to fully enjoy a really long hot shower to wash it all from his skin (if not from his mind) before the long explanations and stories begin.
The Kin obviously would have been a Galliard if things were different. And for the first time – he wishes they were. He wants that one eyed fucker pretty bad.
But it’s shrugged off and he grins at Dustin and arches a brow. “Told you my bro was the shit....”
(dustin)
He nods.
"frankly im glad he didnt rip any vital organs otu of me before he left--but it seems something else-" he nods to the bloody towel- "got the rage first"
He leans back and lets out a sigh of relief. "can see why you were wantin him back though- seems hes gotcher back for sure-" he noticed the relief int he Garou when he saw the pretty boy was ok on the street.
Drinking from the beer and pulling out a smoke- offering one to Tristan first. Smiling at him.
"You look much happier to be back in here, i was wonderin when yer smile was gonna come back"Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 30, 2003.12.30.03. - message from Crow [kemp] *me[email - timeslipped at some point between last and next scene]
(kemp)
He'd made it back to the warehouse, uncertain if he'd be able to get inside since
like Tristan, he was a subclass citizen. If he could get inside, it was to give the
information he'd gotten and then he would be off again as quickly as possible. No
way he was sticking around for a happy family reunion that it was clear he wasn't
remotely connected to."Crow says he is no longer a patron to the pack. And it is a pack. Three of them.
The Talon. Also a Glass Walker goes by the name of Neon, deed name's Counter-Strike, a Theurge. Not sure of the rank, but carries himself like he has some. The other I don't know about. Crow was very specific.. he wants Drums on Skulls to know he doesn't sponsor these guys anymore, they have strayed from the path."Quoting the message word for word from his source before making for the hills.
(james)
Kemp may only be a green Cliath
but James listens to him as intently as he would any other messenger
carefully etching the information on memory through the spartan delivery
a trademark nod the essence of his thanks
but before the Fenrir leaves - James stops him"Kemp." silence spanning the time it takes for the younger Garou to turn back around, if he even does, though regardless the Fostern carries on with what he had to say "Know I dun' react kindly earli'r.... but thanks f'r takin' care a my kin th 'ther night. Did good. Made us proud."
that said - he lets Kemp go on his way
(kemp)
Glancing back with a faint shrug with the words from James. "I should expected it, it's just the way it seems it's suppose to be. Shouldn't of tried to joke or be what I'm not." Shrugs again mumbling. "Welcome anyway. Just tried to take of my friend and fucked that up too." Shaking his head on the way out.(james)
"Stop."the word cracks through the air at Kemp's back
this time James is crossing the space created between
not letting the kid walk away just yet"Yeh dun fuck up." breath expells in a slow sigh "I did, hones'ly. Shoulda know' you w're jokin' - jus' woun' too tight fr'm New York'n..... oth'r shit on top a findin' out Tris got hurt. He's th' only fam'ly I got, now, kid. Scare th' shit outta me to fin' out he got hurt. Was wrong a take it ou' on you. If yeh hadn' look'd out f'r him'n Dustin tha' night..... well." muscular shoulders roll in a shrug "I owe ya one."
Posted by james at 12:00 AM.12.30.03. - ...while you were out [smokey-dustin-tristan-kemp] *sd / *me[riverfront]
(kemp)
Well his night had gone to shit in no time flat. First the guessing game that made him want to end his life just so he didn't have to play it. Then the news that made him want to puke, infact he had later. He'd put on a good face when he had to, but damn. Hoping tonight turned out better than the previous. Just felt like the house of cards was falling with him in the top.(dustin)
He is standing outside the garage. The mood from yesterday has passed- everything is back to normal. Perhaps going out alone last night and doing his thing had made things all better--things were back to normal. Everything was back-to-normal. Hands in his pockets he starts to walk up the street. He would go to the wherehouse- but he didnt know where it was--plus the thought of all those Germans- and Ahrouns- he just didnt wanna deal with it. He had been right- they could film a reality show there if there wasnt the veil. The ratings that would get. Just toss one unsuspecting mortal into that place, and let the claws fly.(kemp)
For his part, he was wandering and trying to figure out what he was suppose to do now that he was suddenly going to have a kid when he spotted Dustin up ahead. "Hey. What's up with you?" Anything was better than brooding.(dustin)
Brooding- breeding- small talk was better then both obviously. Head cants up at the voice and he nods. "Sup" he slows his walk up. "You get everything worked out with yoru girl?" The display last night was one of the funniest things he had seen in - a while- sure, it wasnt really funny, the fact Tristan would have to raise 2 kids-kid (cause that was what would end up happening) wasnt actually humerours- but the screaming about the sexual information on the internet- humping like a mongerel- and Kemp blowing his load on her ass was --much more information then he-- and the entire street needed to know- but still alas put a strange visual to things. And now his head was clear as well- which was better. Going out last night helped- and he felt like things were back to normal. calm before the storm whenever one thinks things are back to normal--they usually arent.
But he tempts fate and just assumes everything was -normal- whatever that meant. Hand comes out of his pocket to run through sandy blonde hair--"Where ya headin?"(kemp)
"No everything isn't worked out." Scowling. There was no way he was going to mention how confused and helpless he felt. "Just walking around to keep from climbing the walls. Even if it means I might run into that freak. Besides, can't get back in the warehouse until someone comes home with a key."(james)
the calm before the storm
apparently - somebody forgot to mention that technique to the Ahroun
there's a waxing gibbous far up in the sky, but it doesn't seem to do any good
as far as anyone who picks up on the mojo can tell: it's just as good as fullcalled back from New York - lovely, this time of year - to a Hunt
...... just. peachy.
but there's something else that has the Fostern strung tight as a Tyberry necklace
something that's literally chewing on him, working through his guts from inside out
it's what happens to be driving this roundabout stroll from the bus station to the warehouse
attempting to work off some of the steam before facing up to whatever's waiting in the old building(dustin)
He shakes his head- he knew it wasnt all worked out. He himself was still confused on the timing. The poor kid had just gotton his cherry popped less then a week ago, and was planning for a kid already. Dustin didnt even think that was possible- but understanding girls was not his specialty-- shit understanding anyone wasnt his specialty.
People are people.
He offers the boy a smile and nudges his shoulder. "Don't sweat it, you wil be fine- and you got lots of people to help ya out, if ya need it" supportive? Sure, Still glad it wasnt his problem to deal with. Few things he had managed to do right- not get any chick pregnant. And sure there were a few times he had scares- but thank Gaia he never had to actually deal with this problem.
"Lets wander then" he nods. Handing Kemp 2 keys. "heres a key for Tris and you. i know the place is a shithole- shit its nothing, but theres heat n stuff, and when you are locked out or need to bang your head against a wall--feel free.
Ahh garage sweet garage.
"scrounged enough change to get em made- still broker then fuck though- i gotta get my hands on a little cash soon- Usually have other outlets to get cash here and there- seem to be out of the loop these last few (fucked up twisted whirlwind) days"
(tristan)
Can’t get in.
Which means, no fucking income.
On top of everything else? Means one rather irritated kin. Take one day to not carry the beloved instrument around and be locked out for however long it takes to figure a way in. He’s not ashamed to admit he’s *this* close to rigging some sort of tower to a broken window from the inside, and a way to climb up from the outside.Worse. He’s is ashamed to admit he’s also *this* close to bailing. Time to find his own place. Especially if what was happening with kemp is what he thinks is happening. He told him to be careful He even provided the condoms for godssakes. But oh no. What ‘Mom’ says isn’t always remembered.
He’s sitting in front of the bay doors, ass on the ground, knees pulled up, arms laid across them, his head back against the door. If nothing else he’ll sit here until kemp returns and the two of them will figure out how to get in again.
(kemp)
"Thanks man." Smiles pocketing the keys. Heading them towards the warehouse with a turn at the next corner. "Might as well see if we can find Tristan before Jackoff the Pirate decides to eat him."(james)
he doesn't make it back to the warehouse just yet
(Eagle already knows he's home)
instead, residency takes the form of Alice pack dropped (SLAM!) onto a bench
the rebar sticks which make his trade rattle a precocious disagreement to the treatment
the protest, however, is treated to little more than a nasty glare from deep umber eyessecondhand Cochran's step onto the bench's seat
tattered patchwork trenchcoat folds and flaps as body moves to sit on the seat back
the long arch of muscle parallelling his spine coiled into bars of steel
dreads hang long and low, dangling in the night's taunting wind
mostly gloved hands seek and search for his pack of Camel's and the battered zippothe fact this fucking city seems to feel WORSE than when he left it two and a half weeks ago is not, even by an iota, countered by the nicoteine fix
(dustin)
He nods.
No problem. He nods at Kemp and shoves hands back into his pockets. Wishing for a smoke- knowing he didnt have one. The blue eyed guy walks next to the dad-to be.
"ya know Kemp..remember one thing- that Forrest Gump guy lied- Life is not like a box of choclates" lips curl up into a smirk and he shrugs.
"in fact sometimes--it can just plain suck ass"(kemp)
"Naw he was right." Coming in sight of the warehouse up ahead. "Life is like a box of chocolates and it all melts into one big brown lump of shit when things get hot." Nudging Dustin with a nod ahead. "Look ahead there."(smokey)
The beat up dodge neon prowled the streets of the riverfront. Its occupant was not its owner, or have permission to use said neon, but that never stoped him. Tonight he prowls for many things. He could find James with luck. Only Garou in the city he really know past being vaugly aware of existing. He could find that mark ass white bitch that stabbed his girl. Yeah, he had something for that mother fucker. Chances of finding here where kind of slim though, knowing next to nothing about him beyond the probably inaccurate description of 'looked like eminme'. Hell, maybe he's just enjoy the night, but he never got to do that kind of shit. But for now he just drives, bobbing his head to some generic hip hop beat repeating itself over the radio.(tristan)
He looks relaxed, for the most part. And he might very well be. His eyes are even closed. But he’s very attuned to what’s going on around him. Every sound, every slam, every footstep that carries on the winter wind. Hands clasp lightly, fingertips laced, as he sits (broods) and waits. They’ll come soon enough.... hopefully not the one eyed freak, but well. What can he do really? Piss his pants? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.Th’fuck is Erik? It’s his grand idea not to block the motherfuckin doors. Even to take the trash out.
Th’fuck is Decker? Hell, ain’t even seen Imogen.Or James. He needs to connect with his bro more then ever. Just to know there’s one damn person here that understands... but he’s in New York (which means the Warehouse, even if he does get in, is cold as fuck) as far as he knows, and no one will say when he will return. Course – one has to see someone for them to say, right? Right. So! We wait, and brood.
(Another. Fucking. Kid. He warned the boy!)
(dustin)
He looks at Kemp--"what are we looking at?" Not sure which way he was supposed to look. the night he went to the wherehouse- he had not been in any frame of mind to remember what the wherehouse area even look familiar- so where he was looking- he had no idea.
Smokes and some cash- he needed to get on that ASAP.(kemp)
Shakes his head, leading Dustin on towards Tristan. "Can't you smell him? Up there." Nodding ahead again. "See, sitting there up against the doors."(dustin)
"Can't i smell who?" he looks at Kemp with a strange exprssion on his face and then looks again. It was dark, night, he didnt see shit--squinting his eyes to see the form of the person sitting there- then recognizing the wherehouse --putting 2 and 2 together. "Got it" he nods.
Fuck was the kid bringing him there for. If they were at the wherehouse that only meant one thing.
Dustin had to deal with cranky Garou bein all pissy to him. He knew this much- it had just been one of those weeks--he didnt expect any of them to welcome him with open arms--shit Kemp himself wanted to knock his teeth out at first.(james)
he must make a very interesting silhouette:
one Garou perched on the bench like some overgrown crow
dreads flinging about in the wind
trenchcoat tails not fareing incredibly better
each lungful of smoke whipping away to join it's brethren four blocks over
and a certain amount of Rage all but visably steaming around himdownright chipper, he is
if only his head would clear
or maybe he could forget what he's been thinking about
(we all know there's no way you'll ever forgive yourself, Jamey-boy)
or..........the fuck is that music coming from?
the random smattering of hiphop is enough to get James to turn and look over his shoulder
not the normal state of affairs for this street this late at night
(or had things really changed that much since he was gone?)(kemp)
"Yo Tris." Calling out with a shake of his head at Dustin. "I meant him, not the trash or sewer smell." Figuring the only reason Tristan was sitting on the ground was because they were still locked out.(tristan)
Hiphop sounds down the way but he doesn’t open his eyes. In fact, he doesn’t open them at all until he hears Kemp and even as (worried) introspective as he is, it brings a fond grin to his lips. At least he’s not calling him ‘Mom’ in public.This time.
Dark gaze glitters through dusty lashes as he opens his eyes, watching the two walk toward him. Who would believe just a few days ago those two wanted to kill each other instead of talk. It’s their own little Christmas miracle. He unfolds slowly, one leg sliding down, one hand falling to the frozen ground to push himself upwards and stand, wincing as muscles complain after being stuck in one position for far too long. “Hey guys. S’up?” Classic Eagle Nod Up. (sure sign he’s hung out with them a long time..) Hands brush at his ass to clean it off a bit.
(kemp)
"I'm not, that's for sure." Snickers tugging his hat lower. "Not sure I can be right now. Guess we're still locked out?" Digging in his pocket to remove the keys and give one to Tristan. "Dustin's gift, key to his place."(dustin)
He shakes his head - naw couldnt smell him yet- He watches as Tristan moves to his feet- blue eyes focus in the dark and the cute grin - wasnt that what you said you liked to begin this long strange trip - accompanys it. He runs fingers thorough the sandy blonde hair and stops there. Looking towards the wherehouse - dark and empty - he assumes- since Tris was outside. "Gave 'em" head nod to Kemp "some keys for the garage--n'case you get locked out n shit---gotta smoke?" he hated to be beggin but shit- he was nic fitting somethin fierce(smokey)
The neon turns the corner, illuminating James with its bright lights. It slowly drives up next to him, pulling up to the curb just in front. The window rolls down and almost instantly the music becomes even more (annoying) loud. Biggy Smalls rapping over something akin to electronic bells chiming in mathmaticly perfect harmony. Smokey lets out some bluish grey smoke from his nostrails as he stares for a moment, then speaks "You need a ride dawg?"
(tristan)
He laughs and arches a brow at Kemp. “What, seeing me isn’t enough? And here I thought you said you were gonna join the home boys team.” Winks, teasing, and fully expecting a smack for the insinuation. Then he takes the key and brow lifts at Dustin, and that slow grin is somehow just for him. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Before it’s tucked into his pocket- the one without the hole.He stretches slowly, then shakes his head, digging for battered pack and lighter. “Of course. Don’t I always?” A wink, before he looks around, shoulders hunching against the wind. “Almost out though. Let’s head that way and I’ll get another pack.” Random direction that (coincidentally, of course) will take them past an as yet unseen Eagle playing Crow on a certain bench not too far away.
And then, a long look at Kemp, the question clear in his eyes that he doesn’t voice aloud...
(kemp)
Shrugs with that look before starting off in the indicated direction. "Go ahead, say it. She said she thinks she's pregnant. I must have super cum, that's all I can think. Miracle it hasn't eaten through the floor or something. Or swam through the water system and made every woman in the city preggers."(james)
as the window rolls down and the music flares
James' expression of interest and enjoyment cannot be described in words suitable for public consumption
for a half moment, the Ahroun toys with dislodging a length of rebar from his pack
and sending it straight through the neon's hood and into the engine
then the smoke clears and the expression leans more towards a lopsided smile"Nuh." with a half-shake of his head infused with trademark Eagle nod up "Campin' a bit 'fore head'n' back. S'up?"
(dustin)
He nods- "sorry man- dont mean to be a pain- havent come across the money im used to yannow?" Red lighter pulled out he lights one. "ill getcha back though i promise"(smokey)
He shrugs "Looking for this mark that was fucking with my girl." he turns the music down and fucks with something where the ignition should be but obvously wasn't. After some doing the entire car dies with a vauge thud. He reaches under the seat and grabs something, then steps out of the car against the back door. "So am I just sick or you feel something is about to go down too?"(tristan)
He nods and hooks an arm around kemps shoulders in a one armed (manly!) hug, before ruffling his hair. “We’ll work it through. Soon as you two decide what you’re gonna do.” Before he chuckles at Dustin. “No problem, man, you know that. Mi casa, su casa and all that shit. What goes will come around.” There’s a grin and wink. He doesn’t mind sharing, in fact, lights up one of his own too. “Though, of course, Kemp won’t kiss us now.”(kemp)
"That's right no kissing." Drudging along with a deep sigh before speaking again. "Guess we'll have to get married and stuff. But I guess I can't get married and stuff till I'm legal age since I don't have parents to sign for me and I sorta ran away back in Jersey."(james)
the (forever) lopsided smile wanders into a smirk
its translation and meaning left to others to decide
James makes the vague impression of scooting over to offer room on the bench"Won'er why th' city fel' worse'n 'fore I lef' it." Empire State twang coupled with the battlescar slur making a strange concoction of an accent "Not jus' you. Can' place th' fuck it is, though."
(tristan)
He shakes his head, slightly. “Need to decide if she’s going to have the kid first – well, actually, need to make sure it’s not some fluke and Virgin jitters first. She very well could be late simply because of stress. It was only a few days and all. Then need to decide if you two are going to have it, keep it, etc. There’s a lot of discussion you two need to do - Without broadcasting it all over the neighborhood.” Mild chide there for last nights behavior.Then a shrug. “And whatever you decide you know I’ll back your ass up. No need for a shotgun wedding and shit, thought, it is two thousand almost fucking four after all.”
(smokey)
He shrugs tucking up the gun at his side and throwing his sweat shirt over it. Glock 17. 'Used' one at that. Cheap, but it works. Had to get a replacment after the whole demon tearing his bowls out and what not. "God only knows what now. We got spawning pools in the Caern, we got man eaters hunting kin, we got rumors of a hive somewhere. Next thing ya know a valcono is gonna appear in the middle of fuckin grant park and shit."(dustin)
Longgg drag- hold- exhale. thank gaia for small miracles- something as simple as a carbon monoxide poison filled cancer sticks - listening to Tris coach Kemp - he cant help but chuckle at the comment about the broadcasting the dirty laundry. Smoke comes out his nose and mouth at the unexpected chuckle and he shakes his head. "Entertaining though either way" he smirks - walking next to the pair. "Yannow, gotta admit- i didnt even think id be seein 200 fucking 4" smirk playing along his lips once more--"so im guessin im ahead of the game eh?"(james)
he doesn't particularly react to Smokey's piece
unless it was pointed at the base of his skull and the trigger pulled
it wasn't really something the Gnawer had to worry about
it's the rest of it that actually causes a chain of events within the Ahroun's muscular body
the near-filtered Camel is flicked to the gutter
freehand now used to give the bridge of his nose an impromptu massage
deep brown eyes closing at the portent".... now tha' yeh mention it....." dryly. shoulders roll in a shrug "I'll as' my pack t'night, see what they' pick' up since I been at th' Green. C'n sen' whatev'r I find back through th' Chain."
stop.
backtrack.".....Which. Kin."
there's something about the way the bristling Garou is looking back at his Tribesmate which.... well..... the portent about the growing volcano seems a lot more inviting at this moment
(tristan)
He looks at Kemp and just nods. “I just mean it’s a decision both of you need to make. After all, you’re not the one pregnant. However, you know I’ll help however I can. Was planning on getting my own place anyway, I’ll set up a day care just for you. We’ll want him and care for him and make sure he’s ok....” Chuckles, then holds up a finger. “On one freaking condition – you use a fucking condom next time and every time! Got it?”Raising Kemp was hard enough. But well, others need, the hood provides. Kid seems to be getting a crash course in all sorts of things the past month. But no way was he going to let any child feel unwanted when he could do something to help. Put a cramp in his style, sure, but figure it should only be part time with Selphie’s help, and well, it is his duty as Kin, right? Right. So. Moving on. (And don’t be mistaken – he’s hoping it’s just virgin jitters... he’s really hoping..)
He chuckles at Dustin and nods. “So it would seem. Better then being behind the game, right?”
((st))
to MULTIPLE: (( ~in answers to Smokey's question. You all feel the ground begin to vibrate. Tiki Bars and hula girls appear. A giant volcano lifts up from the street like some giant pimple ready to burst!!~))(smokey)
He shrugs "None in particular. I just heard that shits the other night from my girl. I guess all of em." Alot of people would quiver and shake and all that nonesense at the inferno of rage standing before Smokey. But he dosn't. Its alot more then not his style, its more his mind set. James freaks out on him or something, he'll probably die. Maybe not, but probably. Aint shit he can do to change that though, so why bother? Atleast he can go out hard if it does happen. "Mine is named Samie. Bout my age. 18..." he winks "If you know what I mean. She mentioned it to me."(kemp)
"She doesn't have a choice. If she's pregnant she's gotta have it." Very clear and simple to him. Anything else was unforgivable in his book. "And who can think of condoms when they are busy getting lessons from a virgin using the internet? Ya'd think if birth control was something she was worried about, she'd mentioned that along with the, you didn't do it right."(dustin)
A shrug - this was definately where Tristan and Dustin were -oh-so-different. This gnawer wouldnt be runnin any daycare- takin care of an kid- noble gesture or not- Fuck that would be a living hell to him. Kids havin kids- He was glad his parents- even bein the piece of crap they were- instilled the whole- cover your stump before you hump- value. Fuck that--Dustin had no interest in bringing a kid into this fucked up world- at least not right now- That was for certain. This kid has no clue what he was in for- Say goodbye to the short-lived-childhood you almost had. He shakes his head a couple times n answers the pretty boy--"Been behind the game lots too"
(tristan)
Oy. Vey. He just rubs his temple with the heel of his hand and nods to Kemp. That kid can make even the most patient of men want to scream at times. But as he just got him to deal with the whole gay issue without beating in heads, he’s going to lay off the women’s rights issue for now. Going to have to let the kid grow up anyway, and now far faster then either of them wanted. “Just talk – and I mean talk not fly off the handle – to Selphie and make the decisions together. S’all I’m saying.” And all he’s going to say too.A grin and a nudge of Kemps shoulder with his own. Affectionate, before he turns to Dustin, and leads them farther down the street where in the distance, a block or so, shows the Eagle turned crow bristling rage. “Yeah, me too. More then once – but we always manage to pull out, if not on top, somewhere near breathing level anyway.”
(jude)
*Jude comes along the riverfront for his nightly jog, he is wearing a pair of blue jeans, t-shirt and a hoodie, on his head is a stocking cap.
He stops by the river and leans over, taking a break and leaning over the rail*(kemp)
"I'm willing to talk as long as I don't have to rub the magic crystal balls to see the answers. Not that I mind rubbing the balls and all. I just don't get no answers when I do. Get a good feeling and all, but not the answers she wants." Mouth going like it usually does while the other two talk.(james)
James is about two. breaths. from going ballistic
screw the prophecy volcano, the Ahroun's an earthquake looking for a building to shake down
it's been over six months since he's seen his mate
he just got back from New Fucking York
it's the time of year he hates above all else
the city feels more fucked up than before he left it
and now.... now the maneaters have graduated to the kinfolk course of their meal
maybe Smokey should just point that Glock at the base of his skull and get it over with"Mine's Tris'n." weight shifts to pull off the bench and grab his pack "'n I gotta fin' him. Now. Tha' ride still up?"
(sammi)
Stay off it. He had suggested Ok maybe told. But regardless she wasnt quite the type to follow directions well. Stay off it...she had stayed off it, all day, and now, she was back on it. Crutches? Nope. She in fact was walking [limping, but only slighlty]
as she headed up the street. Having scored a good day today.Wad of bills in her pocket and a smile on her face.
She is not much older then 18, jeans tight and forming on her round bootie. Black hoodie over layers as usual. Hood pulled up over her somewhat wild hair.
First of all she was out alone...probably not smart. secondly she was supposed to be letting that leg heal...but hey cant blame her, shes a rebel.(dustin)
He chuckles once more. "Guess so" he nods--flicking the smoke to the street. "Where we goin anyways?"
Finally used to these winter nights--he wasnt even all that cold. Eyes darting to each and every corner and alleyway as they walk- just waiting for something creepy to pop out and ruin the night. It was almost expected by this point.(smokey)
Smokey shrugs and pushes himself off the car. "You the navigator or the capin?" Opening the door and leaning in, setting all the things up in the jerrie rigged card until it vrooms to life, lights and stero coming on as well."(tristan)
He just has to laugh at the kid. If nothing else, he’s an endless source of amusement and he just grins. “Enjoying the slippery stuff you got for Christmas then, are you?” before chuckling at Dustin and nods up the way. “Circle K up there. Getting smokes before we run out again.” Pause, and a mental count at how much he has in his pockets still... “and a dog or something... m’starved.” Oh the shock – the Gnawer kin is hungry.(kemp)
"How can I? It's locked up in the warehouse where we can't get in to. I tell ya, I have left marks on the wall where I smashed into it trying to get in so many times I still dream I'm doing it even when awake."
(sammi)
I know they like to beat ya down a lot
When you come around the block brothas clown a lotShe continues up the street... quietly watching around her...she may be dumb to be out alone, but she was definately aware of her surroundings and not bein too stupid.
But please don't cry, dry your eyes, never let up
Forgive but don't forget keep your head up
And when he tells you you ain't nothin don't believe him
And if he can't learn to love you you should leave himShadows dance on the buildings, people walk by her...and she just continues up the street, slight limp, but she could run if she had to.
(dustin)
Looking up the way - he nods and hands go back to his pockets--only this was not for warmth, just habit. Tomorrow he would score some cash and toss some Tristans way. Guy had been givin him handouts the last week--and he wanted to at least get him back. Plus he was gonn pay t-bone a visit, fucker still owed him a favor-- 'n since the ol bitty died, favor wasnt called in on yet. He watches the 2 as they talk--seemingly quiet tonight, but the foul mood from last night has definately since passed. Which was good--even though the moon didnt prevoke any rage in him, being around Dustin in a foul mood still was no walk in the park.(james)
"Nav."he's circling the poor jimmied neon to the passenger door
it's not that his driving skills aren't up to par
he just rather not destroy the car then owe Smokey a ride back to the skids
that's when his Rage inspired tunnel-vision finally takes in the others on the street
including a set of three amigos about a block down the way
it's the tall one with curls sticking out from beneath cap that has his interest
and the flurry of animalistically directed movement..... stops..... well then. fancy that.
"Neh'min'."
relief floods off the raggedyman Garou in a visable wave
the comment tossed over his shoulder at the other Gnawer
pack slung over his shoulder for a beeline towards the three
something about his pace means business(smokey)
He shrugs and reverses the process, eventually killing the engine again. Didn't mean shit to him. Not like he's paying for the gas.(tristan)
He chuckles and nods. “Thought you were gonna call that chick and get a steppin lesson? Do that soon, will ya?” He chuckles and looks down the alley way they’re passing, tension coiled somewhere at the base of his spine, but they move by unmolested (some times the past few days – well, it’s a rare treat, that) and when he looks up farther ahead he sees the fast stepping rage machine headed their way.Others part from his path, and no doubt these two will as well, but he can’t help the grin that spreads slow (thank god he’s ok – odd the thoughts that mirror) in welcome as he nudges his companions. “Lookit what the rat done dragged home...” And aside to Dustin. “S’my bro... James, headed this way.” He doesn’t have to say anything about that business like stalk, it’s clear to him that he means business. And he’s not sure he wants to tell him all that’s been going on, but he also knows he’d never hold back either. He owes James too much – including honesty. (and what he wouldn’t give for a nice long ‘you done good glad your alive’ hug on top of it all. But he’ll happily take a few moments of his time.)
and he steps up the pace a bit to meet James at an even halfway point.
(dustin)
And as the words come out of Tristans mouth - the rage filled beast avalanches towards them. oh great Sure it was Tristans -bro- but the way he was barrelling over towards them- it didnt seem like it was gonna be any Brady Bunch Family Reunion. In fact the way he was staling towards them- Dustin couldnt ignore the feeling in his guy to maybe turn the other way and go - anywhere- else. But he doesnt- He nods one at Tristans comment and awaits his fate. Which by the looks of it -isnt too good-(kemp)
There was a mixture going through Kemp. Glad to see James, and yet a little ticked with the way he and Tristan had been just about dumped on their own with no sure way to get inside out of the cold. Muttering while picking up the pace. "Having had time to do anything, not with everything with Selphie and all."(danah)
The Toyota Celica stopped in the same place it did the other night -- not that far from the incident and not that far from the warehouse either, incidentally. The stereo is pumping a loud bass electronic stream of music; muffled by the car's metal doors it sounds like incomprehensible noise. As the car pulls to a rest it idles for a half a minute, enough for the buzzing noise to slowly fade and eventually die -- the song finished. The engine dies, the lights turn cold, and Danah casually lifts herself from the driver seat. Just like before she has a target in mind, and abandons her car for it, moving with purpose, intent. The streets aren't exactly spilling over at 10:00 on some of these streets, but the few civillians she encounters seem to shy away.(james)
there are several ways James could approach thishe could sprint the last few yards and tackle Tristan in a "thank GAIA you're ALIVE!" type of homecoming hug
he could sprint the last few yards and knock Tristan cold wondering what the hell he was doing out with maneaters in the city
he could, as a third choice, instill no physical contact and instead demand explanations for the past two weeks
but Gnawers are creatures of touch and contact
silent affirmation of pack and family in the processes developed by canid ancestors
body language composing endless prose and ascertation which not a single phrase could sufficeat the halfway point - fists wrap in the lapels of the kinfolk's jacket
were he not taller than the Ahroun, Tristan's feet could easily leave the ground
instead, there's a barely tempered brutal strength that - slowly - draws the prettyboy into crackling sphere of Rage
and a showman's voice schooled to capture the ears of an entire street drops to whisper (seeth) to a single pair"Tell. Me. Y'u're. All. Righ'."
the last time he touched Tristan with this kind of inner turmoil, there was fear in the kinsman's eyes.....
(kemp)
"Oh man, you guys aren't gonna kiss are you?" Forcing out a groan around the smile dancing across his face. Turning to make kissy faces at Dustin and hold his arms wide for a hug. "Give it to me baby."(dustin)
Oh yeah- now that was something like what he had expected. The three of them- or at least the 2 kin were about to be lifted up and cadapulted into the sky- only to fall to end up with cracking bones and bruises. Or maybe Tristan- bein the rage-machines bro n all would get the questions and Dustin would be lucky enough to take the flight alone--or even maybe something worse-- who knew.
Spin the wheel see where it lands-
A toss up. He glances quickly at the sky to check for the giant moon, in case he needed to show --elbows and asshole-- and run like hell. Shit- was Tristan ok? Hell no.
All the shit hed gone through since Christmas night. He could start tellin this dude now and not be done for about an hour.
Dustin was glad of one thing- at least he tried to help Tris out, pullin strings, maybe that wouldnt go unnoticed. Unless of course the time to talk is never given and this dude ripped off his head and shit down his neck.
The look in the Garous eyes obvioulsy showed he meant only business-- so a smart kinfolk stays silent for now.
He shakes his head looking right at Kemp. dude not now--this doesnt look like play time to me
(tristan)
There’s several ways it could be handled, and perhaps he has his own druthers of what he’d like. The first, most definitely. The second, well, it wouldn’t surprise him but he sure wouldn’t be happy about it after the fact. The third, he expects fully to encounter no matter the other things.He is a creature that revels in contact, that thrills in touch, that needs the connection of brotherhood he gets from his tribesmate, his family his brother.
Fist wraps around lapels, and he’s pulled closer into the slow burning boiling seethe, glad that he is taller so that his feet remain on the ground, pulled close to that tempered strength into a force of rage that pulls a moan from his throat, barely choked off before it’s completely heard. Hands lift and rest against James’, before sliding along his arms, the coiled muscles jumping with barely controlled seethe as he demands his answers in a simple sentence....
And receives it in the same. “I’m alright.”
Where Dustin is suddenly worried, and Kemp makes normal jokes, the pretty boy’s gaze is locked on his brothers – not in challenge, and though there may be some fear there purely because of how very close to the edge James seems to be, mostly, there’s relief, to have him home. Have him close. Hands slide to a stop along his shoulders, and he finishes the sentence. “It’s been bad. Was hurt, got patched up, they almost killed Roxanne, things have been bad. But I’m ok.” Could be worse. Could be dead.
(danah)
The alley was relatively easy to find, its location soddered into the folds of Danah's memory. The smell was still strong -- nobody came to remove the source. Gag reflex. A hand quickly covered her mouth, and she tried not to breathe, through nose or mouth. Shaking her head she quickly turned and left the alley, disgusted enough with just witnessing it. Shaking off the aura of death, she continued backtracking.. following invisible footprints in the sidewalk.One, two, three..four men in the street. Gaze turns forward, waiting until she nears before taking another look.
(dustin)
a group of domesticated animals trained to hunt or run together --a group of often predatory animals of the same kind a wolf packThe definition of a pack was pretty self explanitory. Tristan, James and Kemp - all a part of that said-pack-. Dustin however, had not been a part of any sort of pack- in fact he had usually stayed away from such packs. Partially due to the fact he had managed to stay out of the Garou lifestyle for a good portion of his life. Secondly cause he had never found the right group to Trust
Trust didnt come easy for him. Very few he truly trusted, and yet after a week. Tristan was on the short list.
(you can trust me) He remembers the words- and knew it was the truth.
So he stands there, hands in his pocket. That strange feeling in his gut, the one similar to when you are standing near a rabid dog who happens to be attached to the fence with a chain - just out of reach.
But this beast was not attached by any such chain - nor was he being retrained at all. Dustin felt as if the large red target was on him- the Garou was gonna need an outlet for the rage - Dustin could feel the rage pouring from the beast.
Unsettling in fact.
But he remains right next to Tristan. Standing there. Still silent.(james)
the relief is..... breif, at best
a proverbial emotional rollercoaster trapped in the body of a single Ahroun
the tension drains away at the simple answer
and slowly - devastatingly - tightens again as the explanation continues
Tristan can feel it as hands slide over heavy protective layers of clothing
bands of muscle wrapping steel around skeleton as he. fights. for. control.
it would be so easy to lash out and maul, destroy something to feel better for but a momentand for a split second, maybe that moment is found
his head drops, dreads spilling against Tris' shoulder when his brow leans against it
the miniscule drop of broad shoulders, the sighing breath, beneath kinsman hands speaking what he, himself, right now cannot"'House. Twen'y."
it's all he can force out through clenched teeth
it's a slow and controlled movement of one arm to pull the pack off his shoulder
and it's slung into Kemp's openly waiting arms - hard enough to nearly take the kid off his feet
followed up with a glare meant for the kissing remark
mangled jaw kept firmly shut to save publically reminding the boy of his place infront of a Fostern
that's when James unwinds his fingers from Tristan's coat
deliberately turning and walking away
finding something to take the frustration out on that's not the trio before him(kemp)
And he doubles over, breath knocked from him and the feeling he's going to throw up when he can breath again. Falling face first to the pavement. The second time in less than a week to kiss the sidewalk with his face. Not moving a muscle because he forgot how to breath for now.(Tristan)
He can feel the tension, the minute relaxation before it coils up again, as fingers slide under dreds, resting against the back of James’ neck when brow finds his shoulder, showering him in the slide of dreds. Breath leaves in a soft exhalation, as the contact says so many things that need never be said in words, and there’s a slight caress of hidden fingers as he nods and agrees. “Twenty.”He doesn’t even try to restrain the Fostern as he pulls away – it would be silly to even try, and though the Pretty boy is many things? He is certainly not silly. Or stupid. In fact, his hands slide away just as slowly, keeping the contact until the last minute before he’s fully released from the Ahroun’s grip.
Alice pack is slammed into Kemp’s chest, and the glare that follows is noted, even as his hand rests against the knuckles finally releasing the lapels of his coat. Only after his friend turns away does he fully breathe again. Hands slide through curls – knocking off knit cap in the process, catching it and tugging it back on before he bends to retrieve the pack and sling it over his shoulder. “Let’s go boys. Smokes then back to the ‘House in 20.”
Yes. Dustin was included in that – if he wants to be. After all, he’s family. Though he does give him an out with a soft (apologetic?) smile... “You can ditch before then if you want...” He’d completely understand.
(kemp)
Rebar in the pack was a wonderful thing when it slammed into you. Thinking he just might stay where he was cause the cement was cool against his face and frankly, he wouldn't have to deal with more shit down here. Slowly rolling over to sit. All the good humor in him was totally gone, retreating back to that safe place it went after Decker had tried to rape or kill him, still not sure which it was.(danah)
Another series of steps, the sound of boots clicking on pavement following on her heels. Unheard intimacies exchanged, hugs, grabs, and the sound of a body smacking the pavement, unmoving. An eyebrow lifts, curiously. As the walking ball of Rage walks away, Danah continues her approach, her head peering forward as though she were stalking some unseen prey.She stops on the sidewalk, paralleling the trio on the street. Placing her back firmly against the building behind, she settles her gaze on the group, obviously watching. She tucks her hands into her pockets.
(dustin)
Smokes.
That part he was all for, smokes was part of the plan he definately was all about. The other half- the house in 20- he wasnt completely sure about. Lets see, put yourself in a room with a ball of rage ready to explode, as his kin tells him all the shit goin on in this city...or do
anything else.
But it seems the loudmouthed smartass kid was getting the rage tossed at him- which was not only apporpriate for once- but also appreciated.
He doesnt hear Danah, he didnt have that super-human hearing and sense of smell. Nope. He is looking to Tristan, then to the street heading to his -garage-home. A shrug.
"Dont mind comin if you dont think im gonna have my spleen ripped out of my mouth."(kemp)
He'd come to the conclusion that when you couldn't think, you beat up people and so far everyone able to seemed to be out to prove his theory was correct. Point in fact, it had happened again. Brooding green gaze lifting for a bare moment to land on the figure across the way before looking down again. Nope, he'd had enough shit in the past week. Even got the icing on the cake from one he had respected and trusted. Sure didn't want alamode with it. Slowly rising without a sound. He'd make sure Tristan got back to the Warehouse, but then he was out of there.(tristan)
He sinks to a crouch by Kemp and reaches out to nudge his chin up. “Kemp? Bad time to mouth off to an elder. Remember there’s rank involved... but it’ll be alright. Come on.” And he stands and offers a hand to the kid as he rises,About the time that Danah stops and watches, and he lifts his gaze to hers, brow arching slightly, questioning.
Then he grins at Dustin, and hooks an arm around his shoulders and tugs him closer for a moment, taking a breath. “Brave man.” Chuckled softly. “Not sure what to expect, but hopefully he’s taking the edge off against a car or something first.” There’s a squeeze of his shoulder that lingers a little before his hand drops. “Let’s go boys.” And he’s leading the trio off toward the store.
(kemp)
Not a word, best not to say what was boiling around inside him like heartburn. He doesn't see any of these bastards for weeks. No one tells him shit, including how to deal with rank or what rank is other than everyone was something he wasn't and then when he does see one of them. Shaking his head and reaching up to pull the hat down nearly over his eyes. He'd follow and drift away.(danah)
Oh no, not that easy. Not that easy by a long goddamn shot -- too much time invested now. A high-pitched powerful whistle rips across the street. Followed by a single index finger, which crooks and gestures him across the street. Which one? Kemp.(dustin)
Something about a simple touch- Something about a brief glance or a simple touch that just seemed to mean something more- or maybe not. Custins head had been spinning like a demonic merry-go-round out of control. Or a rollercoaster even, the ups and downs- the round and rounds. Squeeze on shoulder- eyes move to Kemp as he acts like a puppy who had peed on the floor. bad dog and He nods to Tristan. "Brave man - or glutton for punishment" he smiles and his own hand -dicreetly- without hesitation lands on Tristans - on his shoulder- quick squeeze - and then it is gone. That smirk spreads back across his lips. Now that raging beast had taken leave. He nods once and starts off towards the store with Tristan. Unsure if Kemp was coming as well. "why do i think this --meeting-- isnt gonna be a party?" he winks once at Tristan.
Shit- he trusted Tristan-(kemp)
Looking towards the sound of the whistle with a sense of dread. Either way he looked at it, he was going to get pissed on. If he went across the street, James would kill him. If he didn't go across the street, wasn't he ignoring the rank shit and then the woman would beat the shit out of him. Screwed either way he looked at it and about had it up to his eyeballs.
Finally calling out. "Can't right now, you're going to have to take a number to beat the shit out of me. I gotta do this." And he was pretty sure he was dead meat either way.Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 14, 2003.12.14.03. - rite of manflesh [mother larissa] *me[new york city, central park, sept of the green - RETRO]
(james)
for one thing, it would have been a helluva lot easier to go back to Albany
the city was home, the Sept was Family - but that was only the silver lining
the crux of the problem presented itself in the black stormcloud of which the glittering lining surrounded
several years ago he did not depart the city on the best of terms
the subsequent visit to honor Sledge's mother's passing also didn't go incredibly wellJames had hoped to avoid confrontation in the breif journey home
remaining anonymous and distant throughout the solem ceremony ending in celebration of the respected kin's life
to this day, the challenge issued by his ex-packmate's younger brother weighs heavily on his heart
as a child the Ahroun learned a Garou's life was too short to harbor regrets
yet he finds painful memories continue to gather dark pool lapping acid at the shores of his mind
the skirmish with the greiving Ragabash remains a rare thorn invsably worming into his side
Kyle never forgave him Sledge's death, no matter the undeniable fact she had fallen to the Wyrm
not even a Cliath at the time, the No Moon refused to believe a great Ahroun could do nothing to stop it
distraught, he could not forgive the perceived insult of the Gnawer's returned presence
removed from the celebration, the night ended in the frightening display of blood and fursince, James has only returned to a small, deserted field north of the city
accompanied by nothing more than deep sorrow and - only once - his matesuch sorrows find themselves floating in the depths of umber eyes
reflecting liquidly the letters proclaiming the approach of Warrior's Gate
now was not the night to risk confrontation in such a time of need
these things are cast away when his mind clears passing beneath the barrier
they are not needed for completion of his task at hand
instead he remembers the success of earning rank few months pastfrom a strategic strap on the small duffle bag slung over his shoulder
two lengths of rebar find their way into his hands
at the site of a convenient boulder of granite the bag is lain beside his boots
and a series of strikes creates echoing rhythm offered at the feet of the bawnbone rhythms
the high pitched melody which croons to the distant presence of Mera at Bethseda Fountain
the softer harmony to murmur in Mouse's meek ears nestled in the grasses of the Great Lawn
the strengthened beat which announces his presenceto any others, his departure would seem nothing more than a street performer unsatisfied with the acoustics of the rock
winter creates another landscape of Central Park
gone are the lazing citizens enjoying picnics on fields of lush green
the summer flowers that seemed to bloom for his acceptance as Fostern had become dormant
white dunes from recent storms throw glittering stars against the night's velvet sky
the trees reach for the ground beneath the weight of pristine, icy ornaments
frosted snow crunches mutely beneath the soles of secondhand boots
the tails of tattered trench flutter and play in the flurries of passage aftermath
dreads hang heavy to insulate warmth about his head and shoulders
breath plumes steam into the lamplit darknessthe path takes him past Stranger's Gate and around the slopes of The Great Hill
a quiet nod all that greets the curious looks, or perhaps the beginning of a (forever) lopsided smile
patience a virtue as whispers rocket through the Park's proverbial grapevine
he does not need to add to the cacophany of sound creeping in from the surrounding metropolis
there is a reason he chose to enter at the Park's northern border
it is not until he nears the path's split towards the Precinct that words pass his lips"Flaaaash."
the familiar greeting offered as the public relations Garou materializes slickly out of the shadows
dark eyes slanted to the side when the Glasswalker joins his trek
and soon the two pause beside a bench to exchange a concise set of pleasentries
all a means of returning to another's territory covered before the Gnawer attends to the matter
while desperately ignoring the overwhelming Pine Sol scent burning his sinuses from the nearby Ross Pinetum"I need Moth'r's help." Chiminage paid in the form of bills pressed into Simon Gentle's hand, the sheer amount donated to the park's maintenance perhaps explaining the depth of his need. "Will sh' see me?"
A brow on Simon's head lifts in curiosity at the change in James' pattern of speech, the tell-tale ridge along the line of his jaw which inspires query to the battlescar, and remains lofted during a quick thumb through of the cash; but the Philodox's cool and calm demeanor never once betrays a thought. Moments stretch to minutes before the nod comes. Slowly. Controlled. "Wait by the Elm."
"As Sim'n se'z." Countered with a showman's wink - he understands Flash's need for acceptance and reinforcement though makes nothing of it, overtly - the duffle stuffed with several sets of winter clothing and two blankets wrapped around four family size cans of Thick'n'Chunky soup for those that need it left on the bench for the other to take. "Chim." Bag tapped lightly with the tips of rebar. "S'f'r Spotli'."
Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 13, 2003.12.12.03. - lyrical [imogen-decker] *me[riverfront]
(imogen)
There is something about Chicago that speaks of absolute violence. Newark was worse off than here, Chicago has more money. But there's something seedy and surging just beneath the surface, just before the point of boiling over.The city is under siege in ways that most cannot comprehend, and even those who do, sometimes it must be amazing to comprehend. The caern is failing. The sept is dismembered. The spirits turn on the Garou. And tonight, the sky is blanketed in clouds, a dimness that only winter can have, as snow falls. Movies and books are often inclined to give the misconception that snow fall is soft, delicate and picturesque. Here, the snow fall is whipped by the wind and swirling in eddies, flakes twisting and snapping before coming to a final fall on the ground. It's cold enough for the snow to stay. What has accumulated is small, but greying quickly. It is not white. It is grey, tainted by the street's filth in a matter of minutes.
Her head ducks as the wind plays havok through her hair, half bound, but quickly losing that coherency, strands of roan and flame flying free to get in her eyes, pausing her attempt to light her cigarette paused in the alcove of the coffee shop, where the wind seems to get her, even there. The coffee cup is placed on the window's ledge, before she pushes back the strands, out of the possibility of flame's way. Cigarette in mouth, she cups her lighter's flame and lights up.
(james)
the good doctor isn't the only one with which the wind is playing havoc
in fact, the persistent strikes of whipping air are having their way with just about any and everybody on the street
little Bryan clinging to his mother's gloved hand else be carried away by the stinging flurries
two lovers huddling together like mourning doves to coo sweet nothings of warm into each other's ears
a various after-hours denizen jumping into a waiting cab's heated, protective shell
and even one Bone Gnawer - who seems to be destined to face such assaults alonedreads are held back by not only the infamous grey bandana
but this time he's got a double-layered beanie pulled down tight over the tangled mess
and it almost matches the scarf wrapped around his neck, tails shoved into the front of the buttoned trench
half the buttons are missing on the battered and beloved coat - but it serves its purpose
capturing the warmth that seeps outwards as if with each breath
only the extremities of the tattered tails below his thighs flapping in erulent gusts
even as his head tucks to brace against the onslaught of weather and windboots crunch through the gathering snow
quickening soft white's journey to slushy grey
there's a look in dark eyes as they skim the road and sidewalk
but it's one that is so far unreadable(imogen)
The cigarette is lit, and smoke spills from her mouth with her exhale as she retrieves her coffee cup, steaming in the chill and steps out into the full force of the wind.She's considerably better off than James. Her jacket has all its buttons and is probably warmer than his, the wool not quite a perfect barrier for the wind, but it protects some, nonetheless.
She watches James as he walks for a minute or two, her eyes narrowing in the wind, before her course alters and she crosses to fall into step beside him. Casual and without commentary. She might actually understand the concept of 'pack' and the comfort of it, more than she lets on. Or she simply has some knowledge that it would be rude to see the Garou, watch him wake away, and then, having stepped up beside him, finding she has nothing to say.
The cigarette is taken from her mouth, the filter caught between her fingers curved against the coffee cup as she exhales. It's cold enough that no matter what, their breath is visible, and her cigarette smoke scattered by the wind as her head ducks briefly, reaching into her pocket with her free hand, pulling the cigarette package free from her pocket. The packet is gestured in the Gnawer's direction in offering, a ruddy eyebrow arching in query.
Imogen's presence is always noticeable. It does not have the punch of rage, more subtle, the scent of her breeding, the ache of her purity, the story in her blood. And then more, familiar and not, the crawl of silver, enough to set any Garou's teeth on edge. The weapon meant to kill a Garou. The weapon used only for their kind.
The slender redhead's hand brushes against the thigh of her jeans briefly as James takes the cigarettes, if he does, her attention flicking briefly forward, dark blue eyes narrowing in the snow. "S'official," she says finally, low british tones as she takes a sip of her coffee. "S'fuckin' winter."
(james)
the Ahroun takes the cigarettes allright
while all smoking does is provide the stimulus that only makes you think you're getting warmer
it's the very act of playing with fire that is enough to seal the deal
not to mention it gives him something to do with his hands other than clench fists in his pockets
the movements of extracting a cancerous stick a little slower than normal
the good doctor far better off than he, especially when one takes into consideration his gloves
or, for the most part, the lack thereof
the tips of most of the fingers are gone
and the rebar sticks have worn through a better part of the palms
you can make a Gnawer replace a hat, even adopt a scarf - but don't even think about taking his gloveshe doesn't quite have the same issues with the lighter, however
once Imogen's pack is returned, he reaches up to sheild the almighty firing
there's a thick snp followed by a minute green glowwindproof. baby.
awwww yeah"Leas' Alb'ny was white whennit snow'."
comment spilling on a torrent of crystalizing breath and smoke
as if they were permanently writ into the chilly air they passed when spoken
they must be quite the pair:
she - of dulcet British tones, university training, and purest breeding backed by the constant nerve-jarring crawl of silver, buttoned up in a warm wintercoat that precisely defines a certain unspoken class within her slender, just past five foot frame
he - of slurred and thickly accented words covered by dreadlocks and tattered second-hand clothing, there could never be a thing remotely "pure" about him - except, perhaps, his Rage, which even though he sets a pace which is a stroll (one step for ever one and a half of hers, even if she adjusts to keep up with him) seems to roll and bounce infront of them no matter how much the moon is slimming in the sky high aboveeach carries the weapon which was made to, quite easily, inflict irreversible damage on the other
perhaps they both understand the intricate concept of pack no matter how its purpose shifts between Garou and Kin(imogen)
Cigarettes are pocketed and she smirks briefly, her boot scraping against the gritty grimy snow, glancing downward at the greyed substance. "Makes yeh realize," she says, idly, as her steps readjust. She walks at his pace. Slender and petite, Imogen is much smaller than James, dwarfed by his lanky frame. It is not as pronounced as it is with some of his heftier breathren, but there, nonetheless. "Just 'ow dirty th'city is if it's only just started snow, an' it looks like this." Later in the winter, when the snow was thicker, it would not be so grey. But even that was deceptive. White snow upon slightly dingier snow, upon dingier snow, upon dirty snow that was hidden by the white. Certainly, this was not like Albany. And it was likely not like Britain, either.Disguising what was there.
She was better off in that she wears gloves, leather slides over her slender fingers, taut against her knuckles. It creaks softly as she places the cigarette back in her mouth. Their own little contribution to the pollution of Chicago.
The sun has set completely, leaving the street lights to be the only illumination. At best, seventy five percent of the lamps work, their orange illumination dull and dismal, as it catches in the swirling white flakes, it truly does very little to brighten the night, more simply chases away the shadows from parts of the sidewalk, parts of the road.
The moon was waning now, and it was perhaps safer for her to carry her weaponry beneath her clothing, hidden at the base of her back (he's seen her with it often enough, stayed on her damned couch often enough when she's needed to wear it, to know where she keeps it). Safer because the People it irritates (the People it protects her from) are less irritable now. The moon is waning, and rage begins to ebb.
The snow has made the roadways treacherous. Her head turns to watch a car, poor make, old tyres, drive down the road several blocks away. The tyres squeal their fury as the driver, taking the road too fast, turns a hard left, the back tyres losing their grip, fish tailing wildly before the impatient driver finds his grip once more and revs out of sight, his lesson unlearned.
(james)
dark eyes strafe towards the flashing taillights of the fishtailing car
two orbs the color of Gaia's rich, earth moist after the spring rains
such a stark contrast to the filthifying streets absorbing the blanket of once white
he can't help the slight smirk that spreads lopsided around the Camel clenched between his teeth"Like th' city suckin' the v'ry pur'ty outta the frozen rain?"
cancerous stick pinned between two mostly gloved fingers
a prop used to gesture vaguely with the notion to ash the collecting log
(everyone contributes in their own little way)
he's lived in Albany, New York, Hibernia, Newark
even to a Gnawer, all scabworlds have an element of similarity
it's what makes the countryside so shocking
it's what makes the pine-sol smell so damned hard to get out of one's sinuses
that strange happenstance of purity that serves as a stark reminder of what they're fighting for
(spend too long in the city and you can begin to forget)(imogen)
His eyes speak of the ground and earth, loamy colours and tones, and her eyes are of more heavenly things, the space between the stars, the colour of the night. It's hard to tell, now, with the sun down and the lights orange, the exact colour of her eyes, instead the darkness being nearly black, unfathomable as she takes another hit off her cigarette, inhaled, eyes narrowed as she turns her head to look at him, an eyebrow lifting.Smoke drifts out with her words, "Yer feelin' lyrical, tonight," notes the former Fianna, mildly amused. "Or broodin'. Not sure which."
There's something to be said for the wilderness, the lack of civilization. The purity of life that was not able to live in the scabs of the city. Something compelling when the colours are green and bright, rather than grey and dismal.
She sniffs her coffee cup, thinks better of it, and tosses it into a garbage can as they walk. It was easier to smoke or drink coffee, rather than one and the other at the same time, and she chooses her addictions wisely.
(decker)
Down the street there's a clutter of bums in the archway of some old bank-building or other. In the shadow of vaguely gothic grey stone, out of the grey snow, four or five transients huddle for warmth.No, correction. Four of them huddle together all the way on one side of the archway, as close to the wall as they could get. The sour stink of too many months without a bath mingles with the sourer stink of fear.
At the other side of the archway, not quite leaning against the wall, crouches an indistinct shape in grey and black. It stirs; a jolt of grey eyes in the shadow and the thick clothing falls on Imogen and James coming up the street.
The bundle unfolds to its feet and takes on shape: powerful shoulders supporting heavy winter jacket; thick baggy denims falling in folds over scuffed old secondhand shoes. Never one to be called lithe, though beneath the voluminous clothes there is a lean sharklike sparseness to his power, he stands with his feet apart, hands casually held a few inches from his sides. One of them rises to flick back the hood of the greyish (actually, it used to be black, once upon a time) sweatshirt he wears underneath the winter jacket. He looks oddly at home in the snow. Not at ease - too fuckin cold - but right, somehow. His ancestors lived their whole lives in snow. Instead of denim and thick cotton and sweats, they wore fur and leather and skins. Put him in fur and leather and skins and he'd fit right in with them.
Nod up to the two, James and Imogen. The flakes coming down settle on his shoulders, light grey darkening to dark grey fading into small shiny points of wetness as it melts.
(james)
the glance cast towards her mild amusement is nearly sly
lower rim of the beanie inched upwards as a mirroring brow lifts beneath it
the next plume of coiling smoke offered to the night might just be on the wings of a soft laugh"Ain'eith'r." his mentors' fur would go grey, to hear such language "Pro'lly both."
shoulders roll beneath the heavy layers of trench and sweater and thermal and who knows what else
the movement is smooth and absent, negligent of the muscle with surprising strength beneath
it tosses and jumbles the tattered tails dancing around his ankles
it shifts and rummages through the dreads ponytailed over his yoke
aberrant movements further amplified by the whistling play of wind"Dun' like this time'a year, much.... 'n dun' think you ev'r seen me p'form streetside. Leas' when I was waxin' lyr'cal."
meanwhile, behind the quiet thesad of terrified bums:
a Fenrir uncoils
something pulses along the invisable telegraph lines
dark eyes switchstance 1:30 and James' chin lifts
though - he's chuckling softly again, tongue clicking a tsk against teeth"Swear'm gonna have to buy'm a parka f'r Chris'mas... he's g'nna be hyp'thermic by New Year."
(imogen)
He isn't either. He's probably both. A sound of acknowledgement, low in her throat. She's heard what he said. She may agree, or not, the sound is untelling, and uninformative beyond her acknowledgement."Winter in th'city is 'nythin' but picturesque," she replies, vaguely, as she ashes her cigarette, tapping it, the accumulation falling free to the grey of the snow, the cement. "'nd no, I haven't." Seen him perform.
Her attention shifts, a heartbeat after James to see Decker unfolding from his crouch near several deeply traumatized bums (if she inhaled the right way, she might even smell their fear. certainly, James could. Decker could), pushing the hood down off his head. She considers him a minute, a gaze, and there's like an automatic nod in return. James speaks in undertone and she smirks briefly, her gaze flicking his way, and she smirks. "Yeh might have t'. S'only gonna get colder."
That was certainly a cheery thought. The weather was certainly cold enough
(decker)
(don't wait for me to post, guys - i'm feeling amazingly unverbose *LOL*) Without a word he turns and falls into step beside them. Silver allergy: the hints of it on Imogen keeps him unconsciously away from her, flanking her from a distance of six inches or more. Like a minor form of his own rage buffer.Having nothing to say, he punctuates their conversation with faint pops: one gloved hand in the other, and he's methodically popping his knuckles one at a time.
(james)
that's right folks, one Fenrir popsicle - get yours while supplies last
for unlike their coiled and fearsome counterpart, James and Imogen were raised in far colder climates
it leads to a moderate degree of acclimatization to Chicago's rather unfriendly weather"S'hard'r, now. Leas' on the lyr'cal side."
the hand that moves to flick then cast away his cig to the gutter gestures at his jaw
drumming still provides a steady income when there are others braving the weather to hear it
and it's not as if the Ahroun is lacking the inspiration
pain, poverty, heartbreak, insurmountable odds in an unending war - the very lifeblood of art
people just aren't as willing to drop donations into a hat when the barker seems drunk
and perhaps the lack of outlet would be why James popped off just nowhands, now unused, find their way back into his pockets: shoved nice and deep
and if they were a sight to see before, the addition of the Modi must make it really interesting
the good doctor suddenly picking up Guido and Sancelli from the street's likely lots
each keeping a respectable distance to her matriarchy because nobody else would know it's a gut reaction to her hidden silveronce his hand is in his pocket, a paper bag crinkles
(shit, forgot about that, didn't you Jamey-boy)
and fingers wrap fist about the slenderly rolled package
it's extracted for handoff behind Imogen's back towards Decker
length of their arms still providing a nice little safety bubble for the weapons beneath wool
empty hand once more returning to the relative safety of his pocket(decker)
Decker brings the baggie up into the light, grey eyes narrowing to read the inscription on the dealer's sticker. A star of david; 'death grip'. He's spent enough time on the streets to know it has nothing to do with judaism."Ain't see that tag 'fore." He lets the baggie unfurl and opens it up, sticking his nose in for a quick, deep sniff. Then he reseals it, putting it in his pocket. Prime shit. "Who'dja git'it from?"
(imogen)
James and Decker keep their distance because of her silver, the unending shivering pulse of danger that can make their skin crawl. Their distance might actually be a blessing in disguise to the kinfolk; it keeps her out of immediate reach of their dual rage. It does not quite overlap over her, so much as catch her in their borders, sizzling through her flesh. The moon was not yet half, and their Gaia-given gift was still strong, still an effort to bear.Still, that might be a strange experience, to be unable to feel the silver, but know that someone else does, not because it's been said, but because she can see it, has seen it, and will see it again. Reaction to the deadly metal in a way she would never understand.
"No," she says, "I suppose not." If James were human, perhaps operation could be performed to reset the bones, or at least make them more bearable, his speech easier. However, Gaia's gift to her warriors is a double edged sword. Once something heals wrong? it will heal forever wrong, no matter what the skill of the surgeon was.
Her attention shifts, glancing briefly over her shoulder as the Ahroun passes something to the modi behind her. It might be something she can gauge, what was passed behind her, but certainly this isn't much of a conversation she has a part in.
(james)
prime shit: there's glitters of purple on the deep, moist green
the Ahroun wouldn't bring dirt weed back for the pack"Y'll fin' th' tag out by Hyde." a glance at the Modi, easily over the top of the kinfolk's head - it's not that James was trying to hide anything, just that passing it infront of her would have been rude "Got it fr'm Smokey. Dunna if that his pack 'r jus' his deal'r."
which may, then, make one wonder about the purity of the smoke
he knows that's the pack that cracked some caps at Jim
but the loose ends are still dangling, and he's not sure who's story is true
easily enough, however, his attention drops back to the previous conversation at hand"Guess I missit." smirked "Maybe I shou'd write it all down, nuh, 'n b'come the nex' mod'rn vox-prim'tive Beat."
(decker)
Faint smirk, catching Imogen's mild over-the-shoulder curiosity. Decker holds up the baggie between two fingers. An ounce of the good shit, cellophane wrapped, baggie over that.He could smell it anyway.
"Ain't nothin' yer s'pposed to be in'narested in," Decker slurs, a glimmer of tooth showing behind his crooked smirk. Then shift gears to James, "Who's Smokey?"
(imogen)
A sound low in her throat, harsh enough to be a scoff, amused as it is. ""I never saw a thing," she replies, blandly, a gesture of her chin toward the baggie, before she shakes her head briefly.James receives an absent nod in reply to what he says. The thread of two conversations is too much for her to follow.
(james)
something she's not supposed to be interested in
yet somehow they occasionally find the good doctor smoking with them
helluva lot more reliable than getting her to share a meal
James' amusement is far less harsh"'memb'r th' black kid at th' school? BeeGee w'th a gun ready a cap s'm'nes ass? Him."
(decker)
Fight alongside someone and don't even know their names. Let's hear it for Decker's people skills."Nh." That's an 'oh' that you don't have to open your mouth to say. Good idea, given the temperatures. Decker reaches behind his shoulder to tug the hood back up over his head. James had dreadlocks. Imogen had untameable hair. He had an eighth of an inch of blond bristles. He was losing a lotta heat through the top of his fuckin head.
"Mark found some maneaters chompin' on his kin," he says suddenly. For someone who filters certain topics so carefully and so stringently, he can also spin out random comments as they occur to him with little or no thought. "Killed one, 'n the other got away. See Erik lately?"
(imogen)
She's paying attention. She doesn't pretend not to, though there have been times where she has done that, hidden her intentions, but she doesn't bother too much at this moment.Maneaters are probably why she carries silver now. If they are 'chompin'' on kin, such a precaution hardly seems unlikely.
(james)
"Hm'm."that's a negation backed by a lot of thought
it's accompanied by an expression that drips towards a scowl
(good bet he's more brooding than lyrical)"Mark say wh't the fucker was?"
rarely does James swear, much less cast dispersions or insults
and as his attention focuses very carefully on his packmate
now is probably not the time to filter
(decker)
"Ya see 'im, tell'im Mark wantsta borrow his services."A grunt, then, as they turn the corner and find themselves on the street back to the warehouse. The amazing ability of the Eagles to zone in on home without even trying.
"Dead one's a Gnawer. Other one's a Talon." What else?
(james)
"Fuckin' beaut'ful."more under his breath than a response to present company
'round the bend, and surprisingly enough, they're back on their home street
his chin lifts up, sufficing for a gesture to those gathered ahead
(can't miss that Monte's engine)"Pro'lly ask Lexi a tell'm."
though the underlying acknowledgement is there
even if it seems, at times, the kinfolk see their alpha more than the Garou do
he'll pass the message on
Totemphone it, if nothing else
(what it's fucking there for, isn't it)
though with another of those trademark nod up phrases
the Gnawer veers off towards the snowy night instead of den's warmthPosted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 10, 2003.12.10.03. - making plans [jim] *me[chinatown]
(jim)
Jim sits on a curb in front of a run down chinese market flicking stones at a tin can in the street. the traffic was thin due to the chill and he himself wasn't far from shelter if it got more than he could stand(james)
it's the sound of boots
or more - the sound of boots stopping entirely too close for comfort
just to his left Jim is greeted by a pair of dull Cochrans poking out from beneath the tails of a tattered and pathworked trenchcoat wrapped as effectively as possible against the wind and around the lanky Ahroun
an upward glance would reveal a little white box of a side-order Chow Mein to go
(hey, James is in Chinatown....)
the Fostern's holding the still-steamy food out in offer(jim)
Jim looks up slightly surprised at the sounds and grins taking the food and digging in "Tristan said yeh'd show up 'ventually."(damon fulciano)
Damon gets off the red line and looks around the area. He walks walks over to a bus bench. He casually observes the "locals".(james)
James offers a crooked smile
too bad it will always be that way
and the battlescar that causes it shows up in his speech
jaw just not moving the way it's supposed to"Yeh.... got caught outta town, th'n a distraction a Paddy's."
hands mostly covered in thick gloves dig into the pockets of the trench
out comes one pack of Camels and a battered bronze zippo
seems like nothing more than a couple of bums enjoying life's meager pleasentries on a cold night(well, other than that Ahroun reaction to the barely past full moon, and all.... just keep smoking, Jamey-boy, keep your hands occupied so you don't rip someone's head off.... thaaat's a good boy)
(jim)
Jim nods and takes a cig setting aside the chinese, guesturing for the lighter and once given lights it up and looks back to james "So wha's th' word on th' street?"(damon)
Damon stands and walks toward the 'L' stop. He sits on the southbound bench and waits for the train to arrive. When the train shows up he boards and leaves.(james)
long cancer stick clenches between his teeth
flame bursts to life and smoke's sucked into lungs that will never blacken or rot
(at least, not by the Camel's fault, anyway, there are more dangerous things afoot)"Got Im'gen tellin' me it a pack a five'r more, n Tris' workin' a fin' out th' nex' poss'ble location." shoulders roll in a shrug, then he drops to a comfortable crouch beside the other Gnawer "But th' big ques'n is how we gonna prove it 'less we lucky 'nuff a drop in f'r dinner."
his Frankenweiler mentors would go grey if they heard his grammar now
(jim)
Jim shrugs "I foun' some black fur on one o the bodies the blue boys missed on their first time through. in an alley a few blocks from on o the raves. the p'lice are not onteh it that's good but we gotta stop it fore the rabid dog 'tack story stops it's magic. my alpha's a good tracker he;s gonna see if he can fin' out some info with his super sniffer. the rave.. yeh tristan tol' me bout it. if tha' is the place'n we gotta go. i says wait till someone reveals'm selves then we got big and scary and take em out."(james)
"Im'gen got fur, too. Dunno if it'll help." his head tilts, dreads swinging down over a shoulder, away from the path of exhaled smoke "Nobody in th' city know th' Rite?"(jim)
Jim shrugs "Hav'n found no one. is there even a rite? i mean eatin' folk tha's pretty twisted. sure lupus groo would call it th' law o nature an all that. i always thought mosto tha' type were a bit touched in th' head. i have a gut feelin there're red talon's involved but i can' prove it. i'm only a young'un not up on all the mojo."(james)
his chin dips in a slow nod"Rite a Manflesh. Oth'r that there' no way a tell 'less we catch 'em in the act a breakin' th' Ban..... 'n that won' be easy in a crowd a 300'r more kids at a Rave in a warehouse. Too many exit'. Too many poss'bles 'less they crazy 'nuff a go apeshit during th' lightshow. It'd be done'n ov'r with 'fore we even caught on." there's a pause, deep umber gaze swinging over to the Cliath "I'd be more worry 'bout it turnin' out a Camp, rather'n a rogue Talon pack."
(jim)
Jim nods "There's always that." he sits and takes a puff of the smoke "Signs i've found point teh a small group."(james)
"'n we ostracize' 'nuff....."that's more an offhand comment to finish the thought
he doesn't really want to think about what could happen if they're found to all be Gnawers"Wh' group?"
(jim)
Jim glances at james "Th' eaters. pack group same thin' if it were a whole camp there'd be more bodies i figger."(james)
"Oh." pay attention, James "Yeh.... fig're i'sa pack a five 'r six a least. Thought you had s'methin' more sp'cific." whoops."Dun' need a whole camp a make it rain blood'n the res've us." a thoughtful pause, filled with the final dregs of smoke from the Camel, then that's flicked into the gutter "Dun' think we got th' time it'd take me a git back a New York 'n try t' fin' s'meone a teach me th' Rite." and it's obvious he's too unfamiliar with this state to even know where to begin a petition, so.... "What're th' options oth'r'n stakin' out the rave'n hopin' one a them fuck' up?"
(jim)
Jim shrugs "Not a whole lot open is there? Only kin's goin in so's we angry folk don't tip em off. maybe a no moon or two. hell we don' even know which rave it is but we might get lucky. the raves happ'n round the same area and someone in the p'lice has th' sense teh keep it hush hush in the papers don' ask me how. maybe it's makin the leeches nervous too. who knows."(james)
here's where the ranked Ahroun tries a smirk on for size"This makin' ev'rybody nervous."
he's not happy with the proposed plan, either
seems a little too sketchy to be foolproof
and there's a good chance they'll spend the entire night waiting
and miss the golden opportunity
(especially if it's not the correct rave or night)"I'll try th' Chain, see'f I c'n come up wi' anything..... otherwi' guess we go wi' it."
(jim)
Jim nods "Do wha' yeh can. I'll see wha' i can learn teh at least see if there's a pattern or summat."(tristan)
Cloudy tonight, covering any hint of stars and the slowly shrinking form of Luna herself, leaving reflections of lights to shimmer and cause a glow over the city, though it’s not something realized or even though about when one is walking the streets. Due to the clouds, it’s cold, but not near as frigid as it had been for a few days there. Rain yesterday and today it smells suspiciously like snow on the horizon.Does anyone even know what snow smells like? Fresh and clean and wet and heavy and all things that don’t necessarily immediately make one think of scent, but just the same, one wiff and you know it’s coming. – Snow. Nature’s cleansing blanket.
Wind today though steals a bit of the impending falls thunder, whipping about legs and tangling curls into a completely unmanageable array, sneaking down the neck of his jacket, slicing through the warmth of knit sweater and the two layers underneath. Thermals under jeans and his flesh is still chilled – he’s been out here a while. A long while. Playing for his (and the pack’s – well, Kemps for sure. That boy is a bottomless pit! Shoulda been a Gnawer.) supper, days spent on the streets in Chinatown for variation, finding them generous as well. Thank goodness. Steps are quick, instrument swings at his side, shoulders hunched, and he’s wandering through toward home.
(james)
"Ah'ight." the nod rather decisive on the full moon's shoulders "I'll keep'n touch, th'n, 'n we'll shore up a plan 'bout that rave."once again he offers himself to the wind
or, at least, his dreads and coattails
(think it's time to get a winter hat, Jamey-boy)
much less the rapidly lowering temperature the six feet two inches between
shoulders throwing to hunch heavy collar up around his neck
(probably time to procure a scarf, too)(jim)
Jim nodded to him and said "I'll keep muh eyes an' ears open."(james)
another nod - Eagle trademark up this time
serves for whatever parting words the wind would have whipped from between them
fingers lift towards the frame of dreads surrounding his brow
and the Fostern snaps off a small salute before turning to find his way(tristan)
He’s not unaware of his surroundings, far from that in fact. As such he notes the movement of coattails and dreds ahead, and with a grin frees his hand from the depths of his pockets, fingerless gloves keeping his hand semi warm, the breath sliding across skin warming them farther before he places fingers in his mouth and lets loose a soft, yet carrying wolf whistle.Appropriate, of course.
Steps quicken and head James’ way to catch up with his friend.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 08, 2003.12.08.03. - givin' gnosis [eagle pack-black unicorns-others] *sd[st. patrick's boarding school
james, decker, sputnik, jude, mark, crystal, frankie, smokey, yu gan, dancing johnny and various banes making cameos.....](decker)
If he's not the first there, he's close. The black Tacoma - brand new paint job, chrome-trimmed, all muscled up - is parked quietly at the curb. Engine's off. Lights are off.In the cab sits Decker and James, the former blowing on his hands to keep warm.
(james)
the latter in the passenger seat thought to bring gloves
while they may not have all their fingers
it's at least something to assist keeping digits warm in the parked truck
dreads hang down in a scattered mess over his shoulders
the rest of him almost slouched comfortably in the seat
neck of the patchwork trench turned up to complete the theory of insulation
but unlike his packmate, he's from the North
so marginally more used to such cold
whichever way Decker's gaze turns, his swings opposite
(always watching each other's backs)((inspiration activated))
(smokey)
Smokey sits on a burb/bench/whatever at the meeting point, having got there before most anyone else. Not like he had anything to do with his time. He sucks one a newport as he waits, reading one of those pathetic 'Black Voice' newspaper/flyers that supposedly has all the news realivent to the black community. He's only met one Garou his entire time in the city, but it seems tonight that will change. But that will all come in time.(yu gan)
*Yu Gan as the alpha of his pack has chosen to come to the meeting. If the rest were coming he hadn't said. Not that he said overly much to start with. Tonight he's dressed in hiking boots, black BDU pants and shirt under the stylized leather jacket. Hand made it hangs to his theighs in an old Aztec design, sporting two flaps at the shoulders, one to be pulled up over the head to work as a hood, the other hanging to shead water more efficently from the shoulders. His hair is dark matching his eyes. Large for a man of asian decent he tops out at almost 6 feet.He arrives on foot, materilizing out of the gloom and pausing just outside of the sick yellow glow of a nearby street lights.*
(crystal sullivan)
*Crystal hadn't gotten transferred out yet, so she was there, waiting for Decker, whom she knew was going to be here.*(st)
::St. Patrick's Boarding School. It sits quietly on this side of reality, dark and foreboding even in its perpetually silence. It's cold tonight, and wind howls like a spirit wolf announcing their arrival long before they set foot on the grounds.::(decker)
His silence is almost meditative. James can feel his rage, humming under his skin like a high-voltage current. Eventually, as the others gather, Decker rouses himself and looks around."Alright. Let's do this."
Even huddled in his oversized black winter jacket, Decker's freezing his ass off. Which makes it quite incomprehensible why he would, straightening up, choose to strip it off and toss it into the back. Underneath he's got on a plain t-shirt, closefitting: black tonight.
He opens the door and the cold hits him like a slap in the face. He's in steel-soled boots tonight. Handmade. Fenrir craftsmanship: big, ugly, last you a thousand years. They thunk down on pavement. The truck door slams and he comes to the door of the school, looking at Yu Gan, at Crystal, and at Smokey, whose rage gives him away.
A nod up for all of them. His arms ripple with muscle and gooseflesh as he cracks his knuckles.
"Good t' see y'all." A sniff. "Waitin' on a few more."
(sputnik)
The familiar '69 Volkswagen van putters into existance down the street from the meeting locale, pulling off near the curb. The doors open up, a young pretty blond girl leaps out of the passenger side, slamming the door shut and runs around the front to the driver's side. The tall, burly Russian climbs out of the driver's seat, leaving it running. Una exchanges a few brief words in Russian to Sputnik, pointing over her shoulder at the school. Sputnik nods, reaching down to muss up the girl's hair as she hugs him. He nods for her to head off, and Una does as she is told, climbing back into the van. Sputnik steps up onto the sidewalk, turning to watch Una pull away and drive off back down the street. With a satisfied grunt, he starts to walk down to the meeting place in long quick strides.(jude)
*Jude comes walking down the street infront of the School, still wondering what the hell he can do untill some shit gets done, half tempted to go in there but not stupid enough to go alone, he is sporting his usual attire and looking healthier than he should be*(leif gray)
Hey, Jude.... Long time, no see... I got called away on some family busines.(jude)
*Seeing the van go by and stoping down the street I pick up the pace to see what may be going on*
*When approching I see Leif and a big smile come on my face followed by a frown* Sastimos Leif...I have to tell you, Sage has left town and Jack has passed on.(smokey)
"So whats the feel with this whole shits going on again?" Smokey looks up from the simple yellow flyer (news paper my ass!) with a slightly annoyed look. Its nothing Decker did. Nothing any of them did. Its just that he's a really angry guy, and this was going to be a really angry night. With a deep drag the ashes from the newport at his lips grow to large to support themselves and fall down his chest and towards the snow. "I just heard to be here at the full moon."(crystal)
*She looks at the group, looking pleased that Jude is in better shape.* "So what're we doing guys?"(Leif)
"Oh? how did this come about? I hope he at least died a glorious death." He lets out a bit of a sigh. "Come, let us go to the meeting. Fasionably late may be oaky in some circles, but I don't won;t to push it.
(jude)
*Looking around the group to see who is here and smileing with a grin that seams to be holding back laughter, knowing that there is no way that Decker knows of besides gifts that Jude dosn't know that he should be walking as healthy as he is, than continuing the scan of the group*(yu)
*Moving in closer the Chinaman remains silent. Nothing evil about it, just the defalt setting*(james)
two Ahrouns trapped in the king cab of the Tacoma
it's really a mystery how they lasted as long as they did
and that the black truck survived itnot a word from the Gnawer as he slides out the other side of the cab
no more trench - thermal, BDUs, and Cochrans that have seen far better days
he's a half step behind and flanking his packmate
dark eyes swimming over those that have gathered(jude)
*Shaking my head* No he did not even get that, he went to look for a safe place for him and Sage to raise a child and he got into a car accident, both him and his brother.
I also haven't seen Tira since you took off.(leif)
Jeese. I leave town for a few weeks, and everyone disappears on me. So much for forming a pack.(yu)
*Slipping his hands slowly into his pockets. Too many garou around for fast motions he listens and waits. Dark obsidian black eyes flickering from one to the other as they speak*(jude)
I still wanna do that, it just looks like we'll have to find diffrent people.(mark gaines)
Athletic shoes scuffed cold slush. Warm breath turned to crystalized frost after exiting those tanned lips, so suited to snarl. Blue eyes blazing like twin embers - windows to that cauldron of boiling fury within - seemed to glow behind that fog of breath like the obscured misty face of Luna, proud and high at the Zenith of her climb. Full fuckin' moon. Heartbeat thrums in a beat timed twice as fast as his steps. Fiery blood pulses; obscuring thoughts with the impulse to tear, claw and rend.He's 6'3", 230 lbs, of lean symetrical power, and predator urge. Covered in leather, cargo pants, and a black knit cap taut over his sculpted shaven head.
Those strong features of his face hold a grimace. A product of the eternal war between Rage and control. Wolf and human. Fists are balled in fingerless black gloves. Likely to stay that way. Crude weapons concealing something.. nastier.
The grimace deepens at the crowd. This was tactically unsound. It was likely to be a clusterfuck.
Which is why they needed him. Death of a Caern? He's been there and done that. Don't get any easier.
(jude)
*Looking around and thinking that the combined Rage here with at least 3 Ahroun in the group is probebly going to be enough to drive off even the most hardend of the mortal populace*(yu)
*Scenting the air he turns a bit to watch Marks approach and then back to the group.*(leif)
True... I'd still like to myself, but I don't wanna sit aroud on my tail waiting to find others. I'm getting restless, if you know what I mean.
(jude)
*Chuckeling* Yea, me to(crystal)
*She walks over to Jude.* "Feeling any better?" *She says quietly to him.*(jude)
*Looking over to see Crystal and lifting my pant leg, the only thing there are a few bruises* Yep, top noch thanks for askin. So how you?(leif)
What? Did ya go out and have some fun without me?(jude)
Oh yea a load. You read the paper lately, the story about the man and the wild dog getting into a fight *Thumbing over to Decker* We'll there's your wild dog. Kinda dumb of him to shift right in front of a resturaunt.(yu)
*Dark eyes flicker from Jude to Decker.*(sputnik)
Normally, at a homid height of 6'4, the burly Russian, a bear of a man, towers more at 7ft.[fair glabro] in height tonight. Scruffier and scarier like a big neanderthal, thick cords of black-grey dreadlocks spill down his shoulder to his chest. Brown eyes sliding around to survey the area, as a bush of dark brown beard covers his most of his face. Heavy brown trench coat envelopes his girth, offering protectin against the chilly weather. Thermal and flannel make up the thin layers of shirts beneath, as tattered army fatigues held by shoddy handiwork of an odd assortment of patches, zippers, denim and plaid material. His hands reside in the deep pockets of his coat, a large burlap sack hung over one shoulder and down his bag. He breaks upon the group, eventually, quiet and thoughtful, a look of madness brimming in those dark eyes of his.(leif)
And you were the man, I take it?(decker)
The street is empty except for them. People don't come out much at night in the world of darkness, and even if they did, they shied away from gatherings of rage that looked like they were up to no good.Decker looks at Smokey first. Poor white trash and poor black trash: in some circles, this is enough to start a fight. But perhaps not in these circles. Isn't it heartwarming to know Gaia's footsoldiers had some unity after all.
Jude gets a glance that's not particularly impressed. If an Ahroun didn't know of some way to fix himself up in time for the next battle, he wasn't a true Ahroun at all.
At his smartmouthing, Decker smirks. "Pretty dumb o' you to start burnin' rage without even botherin' to shift fer Delirium, boy. Pretty fuckin' dumb o' you to thumb yer nose at yer elder's territory, too. Pretty fuckin' dumb o' you t' start pissin' me off again, now that I think 'bout it."
Leif gets a longer glance. At last, the ghost Fenrir appears.
Mark shows up. Gets a nod up. Then Decker draws himself a bit straighter; anyone else show up after this is gonna be considered late. His grey gaze sweeps the gathering.
"All right. Everyone shut up 'n lissen. I'm Decker Rohl, Fostern Fenrir Full-Moon.
"This's the Caern," says Decker, a jerk of his head referring to the school before him. "'S dyin', so we're gonna go hav'a look. If the spirits want Gnosis, we give 'em that. If they want blood, we give 'em that too.
"Don't know what's in there, don't know what to expect, but it pro'lly ain't gonna be pretty. That means we go in assumin' war. Mark here," jerk of his head at the other, "'s pro'lly gonna be yer Grand Elder someday. Jus' so y'all know. But I'm the rankin' Ahroun 'n if you follow me in'na that buildin' tonight, my word is yer law."
He stares at Jude when he says this: "You got a problem with that, you walk away now."
(yu)
*A hand pulled free from his pocket to pick his teeth. Sucking at it he listens and watches. Looking to those indicated he doesn't say anything, but then again. That likly wasn't a huge surprise.*(jude)
*Giving Decker a smile* Well if we get some war I ain't gonna have to start some fights to earn my respect. And as far as going in expectin war your speaking my language.(james)
given the swollen moon glowing high in the sky
the Ahroun seems surprisingly calm
squared shoulders held at an even set
lengths of muscle winding around bone reaching down to the mostly gloved hands loose at his sides
fairly ignorant of the cold air that wants to creep through the worn tears in his clothes
raise prickling chills on (rage) warmed skinas the others gather, James stays unusually quiet
might be because he had an idea of Decker's upcoming speech
might be because he's simply taking in the others gathered
few get a nod up during the drawled lecture
his concern is on what lies beyond those doors(smokey)
"So its all spirits and shit? No flesh and blood fuckers?" The young Galliard stands up, crumbling the paper up and tossing it over his shoulder. With a roll of his shoulders he steps a bit closer to Decker, coming into whatever shape the group has formed around their new fearless leader. "Cause if not aint no point in me bringing my peice."(jude)
Besides, it's only stupidity if you don't know what you're doing. I knew what I was doing.(crystal)
*She looks at the school; since her transfer here, she had seen odd things, but not serious problems or attacks.
Now? Perhaps Mark's warnings were right.*(sputnik)
"If no other Spirit Walker has shown themselves, American Fenrir, Sputnik's assistance is at your command." the words of broken English, roll out off of a garbled tongue, spoken in a thick heavy, Russian accent. Sputnik draws to a halt, hands remain in his pockets as the fair glabro looks upon those gathered, deferring to the highest in station. Which meant, he was beneath all of them at this point.(yu)
*The Alpha of The Quick waits. His talents are known to the assumed leader of the motly band before them. He'd be called on when needed*(mark)
...Grand.... Elder... He'd laugh but it wasn't funny. It was utterly fuckin' hysterical. The type of ironic turn of events - twists of fate - that makes you not only have faith, but certain that there was a higher being somewhere. Laughing her ass off.Leather creaks as sinewy arms cross. Blue eyes considered. He was Alpha. Alphas didn't give up the job so easy. Especially Glass Walkers who happened to know a thing or two about what they were walking into.
His voice was a booming bass. A creshendo next to the silent tongue of the fenrir. One accostumed to filling a stadium with the breadth of his voice, "Not so fast," Casual. For a pitbull. "Do you know what you're walking into, Decker?" Mark did.
(dancing johnny)
As though on cue with that very question, the space about Mark's elbow shimmers and blurs, taking on new shape and level, a figure. More specificall a human shaped figure which quickly manifests as the infamous Ragabash himself. He seems to wear the faintest smirk on his face when that question is raised. His tall, ableit slim, frame is decked head to toe in black, a comfortably loose cloth. His head is protected by a black knit cap, and his arm bears a black bandana wound round the left wrist.(crystal)
*She raises a hand.* "I know the school inside and out pretty well if you need someone to lead you all around."(decker)
He turns to face Mark. As he does so, streetlight angles change over his body. The left side becomes lit in stark amber. The right goes into shadow, and now they can all see the strange dim phosphorescent blue that edges the black of his right arm tattoo."No. That's why Crystal's our official tour-guide tonight." A jerk of his head toward the Catholic schoolgirl who lived, ate, slept and breathed in the edifice they were about to enter.
His eyes shift to Dancing Johnny. "Yer late." Unless he'd been there all along, hiding. And that was even worse in Decker's point of view.
(leif)
"someone wanna tell me whats goign on? All th little birdie told me was ta get my tail over here for a hoiwlig good time."(yu)
*Yu Gan's eyes flicker to Johnny too. That's a good way to get killed, popping up in a group of garou on the moon like that. A soft sigh and he waits.*(jude)
Good think I always bring my toys with me if we're going to fight.(james)
paper crinkles
the Gnawer's unfolding something from his pocket
it's a map, photocopied
held up with a twist (right siiide.... up) towards Crystal"This curr'nt?"
he doesn't have a drawl
instead his words are clipped with Albany's curt beat
modified slightly by the scar that keeps his jaw from moving correctly(johnny)
"Making sure a dozen shady characters on school property doesn't attract unwarranted attention," he adds to Decker's observation of the obvious.(ST)
::Even those not of the crescent moon would feel the dread and thick air hanging heavily where they stand. Whatever is going on, it's going on inside the school. A few cars drive down the street and the Garou can feel eyes weigh upon them.(jude)
*Looking to Johnny* Got something to tell you afterwards so don't go doing something stupid like gettin killed, ya hear.(decker)
To Smokey: "If ya fight best with yer gun, keep'it 'round. Never know what might pop 'round the corner."(sputnik)
As the others speak amongst themselves, Sputnik starts to rifle through his coat pockets, pulling open his trench coat to look inside. He finds a text book, folded up and nicely chewed on, stained with Gaia knows what from being in the trash. The words 'Organic Chemistry' read across the front. He holds it in one large palm, flipping it open gingerly with a clawed finger, glancing down at his marked chapter. Every now and then his eyes will flick upward to glance at people.(mark)
His head was an instant shake, before a blast of frosted breath obscured those glowing luminescence anew. Hands balled into fists. Yet, oddly he seemed relaxed..The full brunt of that gaze seemed to measure Decker for a moment, then slide to Crystal, with a nod, "That's two, then," he grunted.
Leather creaks anew, as Decker has the benefit of his gaze, and his voice raises to address.. basically everyone, "You're destination is the library. Below ground. That's where we'll find the tree. Maybe Crystal knows a good way."
Then there was one of those damned pregnant pauses.. like you have no idea where the shoe may drop, and what sort of mess it might make.
"It's your party, Decker. You invited me," a shrug, "Let's do this,"
Johnny would have benefit of the totem-link, Stick with me. Whatever I hit that doesn't go down. You flank and hamstring. Stay mobile.
(crystal)
*She smiles a little at Jim Larson, not having seen him since the time at the pub. She looks at the map.* "Yes, that's right."
((Oh, oops. delete that. rest stands))
*She looks at Mark.* "Yeah, I can get us there."(yu)
*Free hand scraches absently at the tattoo on his inner arm. The edges of it sharp and crisp, done in dark blueblack ink in the shape of an ornate katana.
Still he waits silent. Dark eyes surverying the street. Scenting the air again he makes a bit of a scrunch face and wipes his nose*(james)
"Thank'."dreads tickle over his shoulders in a breif nod
map, in turn, held out towards Decker
gotta love your local library(johnny)
No reply to Jude -- seems he didn't even hear it as his eyes haven't left the de facto leader, Decker.
(smokey)
"Aight." Is all the gang banger says as he reaches behind himself, drawing out a crumbled up black bandana with purple patterns and a rather large snub nose pistol. He puts the pistol in the pocket of his jacket. He reaches down towards a pants pocket with the bandana still in hand, getting a hand full of slugs and putting them with the gun. Don't ask.(sputnik)
"Weight of eerieness falls on us, brethren, like whore on ten dollar cock. Something watches us. Feeling Sputnik have." he offers up, over reading his book, looking to see if anyone was listening to him. His ears remained focus on the conversation.(yu)
*Dark eyes flicker over to the rather... egnamic Gnawer and his brows raise. That was an intresting way to put it.*(leif)
:places his hand on Jude's shoulder: "I gotta ask the little birdie more questions next time... Glad I brought my 'toy' allong."(decker)
A curt nod seems to suffice as an answer to everything. A quick glance down at the map.Thanks. Totemphone.
Addressing the group again: "One last thing." A lesson learned hard the last time he led a little sortie. "Give ya a task y'ain't got no idea how to do, speak up. Ain't no shame in that, but plenty o' shame in fuckin' up 'n endangerin' the group."
He gives that a moment to settle, and then turns and pulls the doors open.
"Gaines 'n Sullivan," last name basis, because pretty young thing or not, they were all soldiers here, "up front.
"James, rearguard."
(jude)
*Cracking my neck, pulling my hood up and waiting to do something, and looking back at Leif and flickign his wrist, as you look down a Talaith can be seen ((A lenght of cloth with a hook on each end))* That.(smokey)
Smokey dosn't pay much attention to sputnick till the ten dollar cock comment. After that his eyes shoot to him in that kind of annoyed creeped out expresion. After a few moments, he just shakes his head "Fucking basehead."(jude)
*Activating my Fang Dagger and making shure it's in it's sheath, If I use one that'll be it first, the Talith is more of a suprise backup weapon*(jude)
*Shifting into Glabro as well*(ST)
::A few more cars drive down the street, a few nicer sedans even slow ... eyeing the crowd with obvious suspicion.::(sputnik)
Sputnik lifts up his head, flipping the text book closed and slips it into the burlap sack across his back. He looks over towards the cars that are slowing down. "Gentlemen and Ladies. Sputnik recommend haste. Vhe are drawing unvhanted attetion."(jude)
*Is ready to go, waiting for someone to point him in the right direction*(mark)
(Short posting time.)
A curt nod, and he's moving like a wolf stalking at the front of the multi-pack... pack.. or whatever it would be called. There's damn good reason for being first. He's a tank. The shimmery feel of the righteous protection of Black Unicorn falls over him like Knight's Armor ((+3 Soak )). A force of will and he feels nothing but the drumming of his Rage.. ((Resist Pain ))Fingerless gloves open.. revealing metalic claws in his man-form.. crackling with blue arcs that match his eyes.
A grunt to Crystal, "Let me handle the heavy shit, kid," and he's leading the way in.(smokey)
"Yeah man lets do this." Smokey crosses his arm... then shakes his heads at Crystal's pathetic gun. "Make sure not to drop that thing."(james)
the raggedyman... well... the shorter, smaller, American raggedyman of the two obvious Gnawers... drops his chin in a nod
shoulders roll in a slow shrug
(something crackles, etherial, and the wind's distant howl sounds like an Eagle's cry)
knuckles flex around the lengths of blade tipped rebar that spill into his right hand
rearguard it is.... lead on
(yu)
*looks at the bigger people. Crackeling claws, those in glabro and realizes this isn't likly to be subtil.
He looks at the school and wonders if there are still kids in there, if so, monsters at night like this isn't likly to go over increadibly well.*(sputnik)
Sputnik follows and lets the others lead the way.(crystal)
"No problem. We want to get through this building, and," *gives a few directions before following behind Mark, hopefully.* "Most students should be asleep by now if they live here."(jude)
*Jesturing for Frankie to come, when she gets close all he says is* Posible fight, you in?(johnny)
No cute heroics, no witty remarks, no fucking around.. he just trudges with the rest, positioning himself on the right flank and somewhere near the head of the pack, at least until they get inside.(yu)
*Slipping over near Decker he speaks softly under his breath*(decker)
Right behind Crystal comes Decker. In the darkness he remains man-sized, without any obvious gifts or fetishes other than the faint, strange glow of his tattoo. The good stuff's coming later, kids."Where's a good place to cross over, Sullivan?"
A tip of his head to listen to Yu Gan, then.
(yu)
to Decker Rohl, James: You might want to break your force into two units. The school is large and it diversifys your advantage and allows for quicker extraction or activity...
*Voice soft for their ears alone*(jude)
*Flicking wrists and letting both hooks slide down than lifting them up and clanking them together all horror movie like than letting them slide back up*(leif)
So, anyone know what got them all riled up in the first place?(johnny)
"Shh!" in reply to Jude and his unnecessary noise without even looking at him. As well as Leif. "Talk later -- we're all trespassing and people sleep here."(st)
::The school is quiet, the lights are off and the halls are dark safe for the glowing EXIT lights here and there.::(frankie oceans)
She catches the tail end of their coming into this place.. Odd that.. Mark feels the sixteen year old's presence.. As does Johnny.. The quiet teen makes her way towards Mark with a soft frown gracing her lips.(decker)
"Neglect." That's Decker's simple, muttered, disgruntled answer for Leif.(yu
*A nod and the Asian man falls into the mists of the group. His strides soft and silent. Eyes keyed to seeing in the dark and movment highly alert*(sputnik)
He sticks towards the middle of the group, watching everything as he keeps silent.(mark)
There's no reproval, or any indication he's concerned about the timing of Frankie's arrival.Stick close to Johnny, girl, came her Alpha's instructions.
"No," came Mark's rebuttal to Decker, "Wyrm-prison," grimacing at the fact that Decker didn't even know what the trouble was.
But, now wasn't the time to retell it.. again.. Now he was completely alert. Threading his way to the decayed caern.
(crystal)
*She points down a hallway* "The caern's heart is by an old Oak tree. There are some underground tunnels that will take us there. I warn you I don't know the Umbra here real well; too muich weirdness"(smokey)
*She points down a hallway* "The caern's heart is by an old Oak tree. There are some underground tunnels that will take us there. I warn you I don't know the Umbra here real well; too muic(frankie)
Wide crystal eyes jerk about for Johnny.. And quickly she makes her way towards him. She bore no weapons.. No guns or knife.. She was as frail in appearance as she was quick to catch up with Johnny.(leif)
Warning! There be dragons and ogres ahead. Travelers, walk not alone.(yu)
*He frowns as he strolls with them. A familiar feeling washing over him. This felt strangly of where he grew up.*(james)
he waits until everybody's passed and inside
doors cushioned to swing elegantly shut on oiled hinges
even on guard his walk seems more like a stroll
long strides devouring the ground
secondhand Cochran's making no sounds on the tiles
dark eyes blinking to adjust to the shift in light
calloused fists are folded around each length of steel
scanning over his mental image of the photocopied map
letting the group move ahead of him by a few yards
but never, ever out of eyesight(ST)
::Leaf's voice and perhaps a few feet trigger a spray of light from the hall, perhaps a motion light or trigger that turned the light on with noise. Either way, they are all bathed in ugly yellow light.::(jude)
*When I get out of street sight I pull the fang dagger, still keeping it down*(sputnik)
His eyes squint at the harsh yellow light that suddenly flickers on. Upper lip pulls back into a snarl, his eyes slide over to Leif. "Do you mind..."(johnny)
Johnny's eyes meet Frankie.. but there's no time to tell her what to do, where to stand..
He looks up to see the source of the light and then around for any switches.(crystal)
*She pulls her pistol, but says nothing, though she does make a face of annoyance as she looks for switches.*(frankie)
She squints in the light, eyes shadowing darkly as she stares at Leif annervingly for a long moment.(jude)
*Looking around for the sorce of light* We should hurry before who or what ever hit that light gets to us.(smokey)
Smokey ducks down for cover thats not more, shooting a 'oh you motherfuck' look at Leif, before looking around. And muttering obceinety's to himself. Damnit, this was PERFECT.(mark)
He cursed under his breath, a deep grunting sound.
I know you're on that light, Johnny, Control simple machine works wonders.Fists ball up, hiding the crackling dangerous grow, lest there be a wee lass frightened by the scary smashing machine.
(yu)
*As the light flashes on, the chinaman shimmers from sight. Slipping to the side his Katan slips from his arm and into his hand. Looking around and strangly enough UP to make sure nothing was going to drop on them.*(decker)
"Shh!"Noise turns lights on. People make more noise. Great. A jerk of his head toward the stairwell in the corner. He stabs a finger down, indicating everyone should go down there, out of the light - before some fuckin headmistress showed up and spanked them all with rulers.
(leif)
"Alright, I'm going... I'm going..." he whispers.(ST)
::A few more lights click on and the hum softly...in fact a trail of light follows each of them in their wake....click....hummmmmm...click...hummmmm(jude)
*Rasing an eyebrow at the prospect of getting spanked but than opening the door as quietly as posible and jesturing for others to head down*(johnny)
On it, on it.. eyes whirling about for any light switches marring the walls, motion sensors, anything..(mark)
As directed he was leading them down.. but lights coming on with their passing?Fuck it, I got it, He says to Johnny,
And he unleashes those calloused hands. Metallic claws gleam as he touches the nearest light.. on the same circuit. *shrrakkt* and there's a flash of angry blue.
Hopefully followed by blackout.
(smokey)
Smokey nods to decker and hops, ducks, and dodges over to the stair well in a practiced and suprisingly stealthy quick manner. He just shakes his head. Leif started this and even talked to confirm he'd stop talking. Some people just don't get it. Man they should keep these missions for the right tribe. Country boys are to used to not having to worry about by standers and observers.(decker)
"Fuck," once in the stairwell, Decker presses close to the wall. To Mark, "Those too."He points at the black orbs in the ceiling, obviously cameras.
(jude)
*Standing by the door waiting for everyone to get there asses down and keeping an eye out for people*(ST)
::There is a crackle, followed by sparks and somewhere in the school a faint red light blinks slowly; a fuse has blown maybe? The stairwell is steel, sterile, and it winds down to the basement and exit to the courtyard area. ::(frankie)
She follows Johnny, and remains quiet.(james)
in the toxic glare of the sudden nightlight
James can see why it costs ten grand a year to attend the school
further commentary about Garou continuing to make noise kept to himself
the others look around for switches and detectors
he's keeping a lookout for anything that's following them
though chances a breif glance up at the latest lightRun of the mill security floods Totemphone. There''ll be more on another circuit for emergency safety.
he hangs back, glancing into the hall for a few moments
only following once they're clear(jude)
*Once everyone is down I go down afterwards and close the door behind me*(sputnik)
There is a soft, muffled clank sound that comes from Sputnik's burlap bag as he moves along, the fair glabro slinking off to the shadows to stay up with everyone. His eyes darting about as he looks as the gears start to grind in his head. "how far to bookshelf room?"(mark)
A nod to decker in the darkness is followed by another brilliant flash, blinding in the night, as the cameras are the next on the Ahroun's shortcircuit agenda.(yu)
Slipping along he eyes the stairwell and doesn't really think that's a tactically sound place to be in a large group of large killing machines. He waits till most are down. Trusting his gift for the moment*(crystal)
*She follows behind Mark with some relief once the lights are back out.*(frankie)
Blinking light? She frowns, That could be an alarm.. but continues to follow Johnny.(johnny)
"Everybody down.." he says, waving for eveybody to follow Decker and company to the stairwell and down into the basement. "And quiet!" he pointedly whispers.
Fucking hell.. I'm lagging, just keep em outta trouble and quiet or there's going to be words. Johnny stays behind a while longer, falling into the shadows and pulling his cap (ski mask, the paranoid fuck) down to cover his face.(mark)
He's leading the way, doubletime now. Yes, indeed those red lights MIGHT be an alarm. This had to be done fast and quick.Got it. Keep moving.
(decker)
Cameras just might be heatsensing. Couldn't take the chance of having cameras watching while they all blipped out of existence. As Mark finishes up with them, Decker says two words: "Go Umbral."With that, he puts his hand on James' shoulder, letting the Gnawer take him across.
And once on the other side, he snarls, "Alright dumbasses. Next time we're realmside. Unless shit's rainin' down, first fucker to talk 'bove a whisper 'r otherwise draw attention t' himself's gonna git skinned. Alive."
An angry snort. Then he starts down the Umbral stairs/tunnel/wherever it is they were now.
As he goes, his mass increases, doubling, and then quadrupling.
Crinos form.
(ST)
::The stairwell in the spiritual world is rickety and rusted, webs hang here and there and three eyed rats scurry to and fro. There's an odor, like burnt hair ... or burning flesh...a terrible smell that is enough to make the Gaian's want to vomit...seems to slowly permeate the air the farther down the group travels. ::(johnny)
Johnny's figure blurs (of the milky eye) into the hallway's shadows, and he moves down the hall in persuit of said red bleeping light.(jude)
*Going Umbral and following down the stairs*(sputnik)
Silent and down, easily taking orders, Sputnik takes to the stair well, following behind some of the others. Once the command to go sidestep is comes out from Decker, a wide grin spreads on his face. The Russian Gnawe held a much easier time in crossing the Gauntlet with his affinity for being a natural channel. Once he steps aside, the shift to crinos comes easy to him like flowing water. The natural form of his birth.(crystal)
*Crystal moves to go through Umbra as well, but before so, she also shifts, into Glabro form. Hand tightening on the gun at the scent.*(smokey)
Smokey pulls out a compact from his pocket, and heads over to the other side himself. Once there he just shakes his head. This is the most organzied crew he's ever run with. No, really. "Well that went well..." he says as he grabs his gun from his coat. Atleast they seem to be getting closer.(yu)
*One more look around and then he looks to the blade of his katana. Slowly he steps over and then gags a bit. Dropping to one knee the blurr of milky eye leaves him and he gags again. possessing a very very sensitive nose it's messing him up*(mark)
And then the order comes to slip across the looking glass.Go across together, you two,
Blue gaze glimmered in the night as he turned to Crystal. One hand holds a steel mirror, the other holds crackling blue electricity to catch the reflection. "Ladies first,"
And after she goes, the Ahroun's fighting through the weavern coils himself. Old friends he and that fucking spider.
No words for Decker's tirade. Well warranted.
Then he's not Mark anymore. He's Smashing Machine. 9 and a half feet of corded muscle, and multicolored fur. Not that smooth even coat those country garou were used to. Garish red, black, brown, and orange in interwoven slashes. Symetrical like a machine. War Machine.
And he's moving again.
(james)
before the two words are out of his packmate's mouth he's at Decker's side
already starting that spiritual chain reaction
slimming. squeezing. pushing to make it through
clean and clear with the Modi right behind himthere's a dangerous glare in the Full Moon's eyes that may very well be an offer to do the skinning
then the raggedyman seems to get a whole lot shaggier
fists turned monstrous paws around the deadly steel
muzzle wrinkling in disgust at the scent of..... whatever that is
(even in Chrinos those dreads don't completely go away, do they...)(jude)
*Catching a wiff and my nose twiches, the Strider dosn't react as much being used to the oder of death and darkness.(crystal)
*She nods and moves forward, gun at the ready.*(frankie)
She sidesteps as well, looking around slowly. Her frail form growing into the wild colored Uktena with black and white strips of hair mingling randomly across her form. She sniffs the air, and looks around with black eyes locking on each as if they were the dangers here.(frankie)
*Slowly the chinaman stands and keeps his left forarm across his nose. He was a tracker born and bread, even in this homid form his nose was unnaturally acute. Swallowing thickly he twirls his sword in his other hand and looks around*(st)
There really is no where for them to go but either outside to the heart of the caern or deeper inside the basement of the school....two choices.(sputnik)
Perhaps smaller in height than some of the other crinose, a mottled coat of black and grey fur with white markings across the eyes, thick corded dreads remain in this form like a mane. The burlap sack strapped across his back as the impressions of half tattooed sleeves run up the metis' arms. His nostrils flare out, amber-brown eyes searching for signs of spirits. The Gnawer Theurge begins to look a little worried. "No spirits here."(johnny)
Johnny does not manifest in the umbra..(yu)
*Voice soft, a bit choked from the stench and he indicates with his sword, having hung near Sputnik* What are those rat thingies then?(mark)
And they're going to the caern. No words are necessary, as it had been their destination before, nothing's changed. Wordlessly Mark grunted at Crystal, and the creature loped to the path.(crystal)
*Trying very hard not to choke, Crystal, now showing some light brown fur, follows Mark.*(jude)
*Heading twards the Caren*(decker)
Fork in the path.Decker stops. A secondary glow is coming over him now - a ghostly-white incandescence that hums over his body like liquid moonlight.
Silence - the huge grey beast - scents the air. Then he speaks in Garouspeech, and it's surprisingly unaccented, formal.
"Smashing Machine, take your pack and Sputnik to the Caern's Heart. See what the spirits demand. Drums-on-Skulls, you're with them."
Totemphone if shit happens.
"Everyone else is with me." Deeper into the basement, where the stench of Wyrm bleeds out. "You too, Jude."
(sputnik)
The metis turns his head to regard Yu with a quizzical look, he flicks back an ear. "Rat things, three eyed. Not spirits. Sputnik assure Yu."
(jude)
*Grinning as I hear that I get to play*(yu)
*He nods to Sputnik then points to them again* Then why are they in the umbra?
*He squats and tries to catch one.*(yu)
She follows Mark without hesitation, Johnny left? Giving him a brief glance, before turning those black eyes around. Her wolvish ears perking high atop her head as each inch of her massive form covers with thick hair.. Warmth.. How she loves this form.(ST)
In the umbra, the heart of the caern is dead seeming. The tree has lost most of it's luscious leaves and a permanent bow has set in among the branches. The weight of despair ... depression...and misery slowly ebbs from the area, it comes with the air rather than anywhere in particular.(yu)
*He yanks his hand back* Nope.. those are real.. * he looks to Decker then Sputnik and stands keeping an eye on the 3 eyed critters*
(smokey)
"Bout fucking time somebody goes to regulate..." He says as he steps up closer to Decker. With pistol in hand, he begins to strech and grow, until finnaly the shaggy and scrawny Crinos form stands before them. He's smaller then most, he is wearing a HUGE raiders jacket, and the handle and trigger guard of the pistol have become laughably huge to fit his new hand. All in all... only with Urrah will you see this kind of shit.(leif)
::follows allong behind, having shifted as well, being rater quet now as compared to before::(decker)
And then splat the one Yu had tried to catch is mush under the Fenrir's clawed foot. Or it should be. But it scurries right through his foot.The Modi's black lips lift in a dreadful snarl, soundless. This is something else to look into.
Then, as James, Sputnik, Mark and Frankie disappear toward the heart of the Caern, Decker leads Yu Gan, Smokey, Jude and Leif down into the depths of the basement.
(yu)
*He kinda waits till noone's looking. Draws out a black bag. Stoops and sweeps one of the rattas into the bag. Something to look at later. Yeah, he's an Ukkie alright. Slipping it into the thich thigh pocket of the jacket he ties it tight and turns to follow Decker and crew. Falling into Rear guard as James went with the others*(james)
Gnawers have reputedly been in some pretty rank places
but there are smells that even get to those of the Tribe
fuzzy ears flick back to pin against his skull, then swivel around in audial radar
his eyes drawn to the scurrying shadows that should be so familiar
but... they're extra glittery, aren't they, those beady eyes
Watch the rats. dryly cast on a rustle of Eagle's feathers to the Modi
the shaggy Chrinos turns, focusing his attention outside the group while the choice is made
latticework of Garou claw scars riffling the fur from shoulders to tailbreath chuffs affirmation
and he's following
.... but not before a huge pawhand lands on Yu's shoulder and pulls him short of catching the rat
just as the other Garou snatches his hand back anyway
and the Fenrir goes to....well shit.
lupine head swaying in a slow shakenot a good idea
and now he's following Mark and the others
(sputnik)
Sputnik looks back at Yu and replies before he splits off with the others. "The rats are twisted reflections from the realm. They are not here with us."With that, the only theurge among them, Sputnik heads with the group that is going to the Caern's heart.
(mark)
The massive wolf maw nods, tail outward to adjust to his adroit shift. Then he's moving beside Frankie, and presumably James and Sputnik.As he moves that multicolored fur.. changes.. somehow.. No longer patterened it's one uniform hue. Silver? No. Steel. And the Knight has his armor. War Machine.
((Steel Fur.))To Frankie he says, S.O.P. He's covering up. When we go back reality-side there won't be a ton of cops waiting on us.
To the other two, "Stick close," It's metallic. Weavern.
(crystal)
*She hates the place already. No caern should ever be like this. No caern she's known ever has. She continues to follow Mark, looking around for anything odd beyond the 3eyed rats.*(frankie)
What clothes she had worn were ripped across her frame.. Lean, slender and built for speed and entertainment.. Not fighting. But still the Uktena stood tall, and grunts in response to Mark. The first time he's likely heard that from this shy moon dancer.. She jerks her tail down slightly as massive clawed feet lightly step along the way towards the Caern. The heart that has melted and saddened her.. She would give her life to revive it..(ST)
The basement stinks. There are boilers, pipes...the hissing sound of steam can be heard. Smoke trickles through cracks in walls, and the steel here is rusted and old, terrible fragile seeming. The path (there is only one path) leads them down a dark and dreary hallway.(james)
earthside, he'd let the others move ahead
now he falls into a habitual formation
Glasswalker leads, and the Gnawer flanks to the left contrasting Uktena's right
knowing Sputnik's bringing up the tail this timewhatever affect the situation has on the others
Drums-on-Skulls has gone cold, save Gaia's fire that burns within him(jude)
*Looking around and getting the shivers, this is dark even for a Strider*(sputnik)
The metis theurge brings up the rear, his ears roll back to flatten against his head, lip curls up in a snarl of distaste as he takes notice of where the spirits linger on the peripheal of the school. "Spirits no come to the caern's heart. This not good. Perhaps, trouble lies here?" His question proposed to Mark and the others.(smokey)
Smokey looks around cautiously, always following Decker in. As long as he don't attack them, thats fine. City boy, born and raised. Came up fighting in new york, which umbral is basicly just one big hell hole in an endless fog of Blight. He is used to all kinds of freaky shit. Dosn't like it, but used to it. So unlike some others, he dosn't feel the urge to comment.(crystal)
*She follows up behind Decker, looking around at the utterly disgusting basement. And she had been going to school here?*(frankie)
She acknowledged Jame's position to her right, and glances to Mark who's ahead of her? At her left? Quietly moving, keeping sharpened eyes and senses on alert. Sputnik's words made the hair on her back stand a little..(Decker)
All of a sudden the black tattoo over Decker's left arm flows liquid. A moment later, the tattoo is gone, slid off his arm, materialized into an enormous one-edged black axe. The edge gleams hotly white.Cautiously, the axe held ready, he quickens his pace down the hallway.
"Ragabash." Of all of them, his senses were the sharpest. "Up here. Tell me what you see and smell and hear. Jude, one eye on our rear."
(yu)
*Turning the Ragabsh shifts down to Lupus. The form with the best sinces. Slipping though the group and around their legs he takes point and sniffs. Looking around*(mark)
"Count on it," is the hard, deep bass of the metallic Smashing Machine to Sputnik's query, "Don't consider this friendly territory," Blue arcs of elecricity settled idly from the metallic claws, reflecting off of the shiny steel armored form. Eyes reflecting the color eyed the tree sadly. A grunt."Try contacting the spirit, theurge," he bade the crazy russian, as his eyes panned to make certain there was no ambush.
(smokey)
Smokey keeps on trucking in the middle. He dosn't pay much attention to the blood. He is a Nazi Ahourn. God only knows what kind of gifts those guys must have. He writes it off without much thought, since Decker dosn't seem to be to concerned.(rystal)
*She looks up and seems to notice for the first time the condition Decker is in; blood on muzzle, and worse. Much like when she saw him tear up Jude. And that makes her pause. What was going on?*
(decker)
Turning to check his six, an act as automatic as a driver looking in the rearview mirror, he pauses as he catches the look on Crystal's face."Why do you at me like that?"
(yu)
*The wolf paws at his nose and shakes his head trying to get the smell out. Chuffs in quiet wolf speak* ~WS~ Stink here. Stronger there. * He jerks his head the way they are going. It's the only way to go.*(sputnik)
Sputnik looks at Mark with a curt nod of his lupine head, tongue runs along his muzzle, moving on bipedal legs towards the heart. One clawed hand comes to rest on the burlap sack pressed into his hip. "I will try."(crystal)
*She looks at him, unconsciously takes a step back. She pats the side of her mouth, each side, and on her mouth itself, and then points at him.*(james)
an ear swivels towards the gutteral words
as Sputnik moves to follow the command
the Ahroun takes over his post
Smashing Machine scans one direction
he seamlessly turns to watch for trouble coming from behind(decker)
The massive beast-monster's brow furrows deeply. He raises his free handpaw, wiping it across his muzzle. When he looks down at his handpaw, there's nothing there.The others don't see a stain on his paw either. They see it on his mouth, unaffected by his scrubbing, permanent.
He raises blazing grey eyes - lighter in this form, paler and icy - to Crystal. Growled, "What do you see?"
(yu)
*Letting the rather rabid get and others chat about his makeup the Curious Uktena edges more forward. Keen eyes wairy of traps, even here in the umbra*(smokey)
Smokey looks to Decker, then to Crystal, then back to Decker. He gives one of those dog 'Huh?' sounds then speaks in the language of the anceints. "Your... not doing that?"(crystal)
*She says quietly.* "Blood. You're bleeding. Or something."(decker)
A low snarl rumbles in his chest."Be on your guard." He doesn't have to tell them this as he turns to start forward again, each long stride eating up twice the distance Yu Gan's lupine stride does. He keeps pace easily, his balance low, kept by the swaying of his thick tail. "That is not natural." And a pause. "If something should force me to frenzy and I turn on one of you, run. The others can take me down from behind."
As if in response, a tendril of blue electricity flickers over the blade of the axe, vanishes back into its subdued glow.
Onwards.
(frankie)
Her massive head turns, white dred locks tumbling about her ears and fur.. She looks around, her reartaken by James.. Mark, she looks at.
(decker)
To James, on totemphone: Somethin' weird down here...everyone's seein' blood on me when they look. Keep alert.(ST)
Further down the path into the heart of what was likely the boiler room there's an opening, an arched door that seems oddly misshaped and crooked in its design. Through there, voices can be heard speaking in a tongue beyond their comprehension.(crystal)
*Not natural? A lot of this doesn't seem natural to Crystal, who not very long ago was actually a normal girl. She can't help but think of a monstrous hispo sinking its teeth into Jude, and she doesn't stay as close to Decker, moving more at a speed to keep her with Smokey and Jude.*(yu)
*The Scout looks over his furry shoulder. Not liking the sound of that.... Decker was behind HIM.
Looking back the way he came he keeps his spiritual power ready to fule his fetish if he needs to. Nearing the door he squats and holds position. Ears flickering around like little radar dishes. His lips curl back from his fangs and the size of the animal seems to grow. Shifting up to Hispo, but remaining quiet*(smokey)
Smokey makes a face and stiffens a bit, moving with alot more stealth. If you know anything about how Gnawer's tend to fight, you know this ususally means he's getting ready to do so. Speed becomes secondary to readiness as he moves to follow decker... from a short distance.(james)
the Gnawer's head cants
pseudo-dreads shifting over heavy shoulders with the motion
a part of it the process of his guard
a part of it is something else entirely - he's listening"Desssssseption."
warning rolling low and thick off his tongue, as if a growl could whisper
language of their ancestors mangled by the battlescar that slurs his speech
it's cast back over his shoulder at the Mark, Frankie, and Sputnik
tail flicking in fullmoon agitation(sputnik)
"Gracious Whispers, Unicorn Spirit..." The metis Theurge calls out to the caern spirit, he doesn't stop until he can come as close as possible to the tree that he can bear. The sight of the wounded unicorn whinnying in pain tears at the Russian Gnawer's heart-strings on the inside. A low growls of frustration almost breaks in his throat, as he grows angry at what he sees. "Whispers is in pain.." he calls to Mark, James and Frankie.(decker)
"Quiet from here on out, unless you need to speak."The huge handpaw shifts its grip on the axe, wicked black claws gleaming dully in the half-light.
He slows his pace as he nears the boiler-room door, keeping close to the walls. Carefully, he peers into the room.
(crystal)
*She glances at Jude with all of these thoughts, staring at him a moment with a raised eyebrow, then going back to focusing on the door.*(st)
The figures can be seen illuminated by a soft sunset colored glow. They're conversation stops...and the sound of sniffing through large nostrils can be heard.(jude)
*Looking to Crystal and whispering low right in her ear so that barely even I can hear it* S'ok, if he snaps you'll be safe here(yu)
*He thinks that can't be good. Coiled he activates his fetish, just in case, the necklace hanging around his furred neck shimmers slightly as the spirit of the elk inside it lends Yu Gan Speed*(mark)
First Sputnik takes his attention, massive steel wolf head turns and regards his words. A blast of breath is a metallic sigh, and nod. Two caerns.. and a third on the way. This was simply huge. It was a road to harrano to even contemplate it.Then eyes.. no fuck that.. the whole creature's body turns, to peer at James' warning. His razor-edged maw is open.. ready.. expression holding the silent question of where.
"What's up?" Alert. Where's the danger?
(frankie)
She knew this.. She had seen it, spoken to the ghost pack before anyone else (save Jude) had.. She was one of the first three to see it after the Striders had abandoned the Caern....
And she wouldn't be the last.
Dark eyes shift to the metis, she grunts, "Know." Nodding once, her massive shoulders shift in response to James and look back over her shoulder to him.(jude)
*Seeing Yu Gan grab his fetish I do the same*(smokey)
Smokey stops in his tracks, looking at the others for a moment then to the figers. Oh its time...(sputnik)
He turns his head, tearing his eyes away from the caern spirit to look at the others. The warning rolling over his ears and headed. "What is price to aid the spirit." the question directed to frankie(frankie)
"Find Bane Tender." She spoke brokenly in her massive Crinos state, "Find now.. Go North with fellow Uktena and bring back.." She grunts, "Weak and sad.. Unicorn sick.. Ghost pack left to die.. Will save." Nodding roughly once, her white dred locks bobbing back and forth around her wolfish head.(sputnik)
"Unicorn will die..." the words growled in the base of his throat. He focuses his eyes upon Frankie. "When do leave to seek Tender?"(james)
broad head lifts
barrel chest fills slowly
searching the air before heavy skull swings to look back at the Glasswalker
then beyond at Sputnik's declaration of Whisper's plight"Below." huffed in a breath to imply the others, keeping it short and sweet for sake of his impediment "Ssssssomthing trickss. Be wary."
(frankie)
"Tonight." She spoke one word, her head hightening slightly as she regards the metis Theurge.(frankie)
Black eyes jerk back to James.. And this massive Crinos drops to all fours, sniffing at the ground roughly. Massive claws digging into the earth of the Umbra as if waiting for something to spring forward.. Then slowly she stands again, preparing to fight if it comes down to it.(sputnik)
Amber-gold wolf eyes bleed with inner turmoil. His massive furry frame quivers with tension slightly, claws curl into tight fits as he clamps down on his jaw. The thought of the Unicorn's pain makes him want to tear something apart. He looks at Frankie, awaiting further orders from the Glass Walker. "Sputnik will go with Uktena to bring back Tender if wish aide. Must be done. Will not sleep until Unicorn healed or dead." the growls garbled out quickly from his jaws in the high tongue.
(mark)
A slow cant of his head, as he searched the room with his sharpened crinos senses, but apparently too meager to note what James was found."Everyone stay frosty. Watch the theruge's back," Since he'd likely be distracted with spiritual converse, "You in contact with the others?" That question for James.
(decker)
Free handpaw comes swiftly up as he takes a step back from the open doorway, motioning for Crystal, Jude and Smokey to stay back.Yu Gan he leaves where he is. He's seen the Ragabash in action.
Turning to the other three, the Fenrir jerks his thumb in the direction of the door and holds up three padded fingers, a fourth moving up and down as if he couldn't be sure how many there were. Completely speaking in body language now, the Garouspeech comes through somewhat garbled--
"Three or four. Man-shape. Large." He points at himself, Jude, Smoky. "Front charge." He points at Yu Gan, Crystal. "Flank attack. Kill fast. Be ready for bigger ones."
And a final gift activated, one that would draw attention to him immediately: the sweat-and-grime Fenrir, the uneducated boy from the deep south, the last one you'd ever expect anywhere remotely otherworldly or holy --
burns with a filmy cold fire, like the corona of the sun during a total eclipse.
Trailing coldfire like a comet trails its tail, the Modi leaps into the room and swings for the nearest two figures in quick tandem, two swings each: one-two, three-four.
(crystal)
She shakes her head in response to Sputnik, "No." And nothing more, turning to her Alpha to wait for orders. Her senses clear and focused on the possible danger.(james)
seeing Frankie tear at the ground
the Ahroun snorts to get her attention and shakes his head"Meant. Bassssement."
speaking very slowly
making sure the high tongue words are as clear as possible
(damn that fucking Fang....)
dark eyes the color of Gaia's rich soil turning to the Walker and nodding
reaching up and tapping his temple with a talon to signal Totemphone
the constant flurry of shadowy impressions that are playing beneath the occasional words
it's not disrespect that has him looking away, he's only keeping his watch"They Fight."
(jude)
*Slowly stalking up twards the front next to Smoky holding up 5 fingers and counting down*(yu)
*Yu Gan Shimmers from sight again, invissable to casual observation, especially with Decker all aglow he Breaks to the right. THe speed from the fetish making him move at truly inhuman speeds. Rebounding off the wall he arrows for one of the 4 from the other side. Hispo form hidden from sight but not from killing*(smokey)
Smokey steps up, leveling his gun at one of the glows and waiting for the shit to hit the fan.(jude)
*When the countdown is done I lauch into the room slashing my fang dagger right into the closest one*(sputnik)
The Russian Gnawer folds his arms over his chest, moving away from the caern tree to stand with the others. "Sputnik done here. Vhat now?"(mark)
"Fuck!" And somehow that translates into something violent and gorey in Garou-tongue. And the metallic monster is moving, "Us. There. Now" Leading the way.Over the totem link of the Dark Steed, Party in the basement. It's rowdy.
(frankie)
She's right behind Mark. Massive Crinos, massive claws.. Her steps are quick and feverish.. She doesn't waste time.. She's going and she's moving fast.(sputnik)
The orders only had to be given as Sputnik is right on their heels, the massive black-grey crinos dropping to all fours and running after them.(decker)
The Fenrir's a fucking lightshow tonight. He glows silver; he trails incandescent blue; his axe mists a phosphor glow and crackles every time it bites flesh; to top it all off, rage blurs his image and leaves a fading ghostly afterimage in the air.Two blows: bane #1 is dead. The Fenrir turns on bane #2, but before he has a chance to swing Smokey's bullets and Jude's fang dagger hit it hard and fast: overkill. It explodes into a million fragments of hate, greed, misery, filth. The Fenrir changes course without a blink and plunges deeper into the room.
The hulking boiler blocks sight of the rest of the room from those at or near the door. In the Umbra it looks monstrous, like something quasialive rather than a simple machine. From the sounds coming behind it, Yu Gan and Crystal have found the other two. Yu Gan shimmers into existence as he bites, huge Hispo teeth rending spirit-flesh. Crystal rips into the other with her claws.
(jude)
*Looking around for the next SOB to go after*(yu)
*Bearinghis down he savages it with nasty sharp hispo teeth and then looks around for new target. Eyeing that boiler pretty warily.*(smokey)
Smokey turns his un to the next glow of a bane, walking forward as he keeps pulling the trigger. He aint gonna have time to reload, but might as well empty the chamber before he goes to claws.(jude)
*Leaping in anger at the next one near me, raking across it's gut*(james)
"NO."the word rings out like a Clap. Of. Thunder.
and, given the Chrinos' hands are together
it damn well wasthe shockwave sends them sprawling
he's taken only a few steps after them, hackles raised
and the Ahroun's mangled speech snarls"Deck'r's command. Help totem." dark eyes blaze "They fight..... not us. Totem firsssst. Then fight."
this last part turned on Frankie
something in the normally mellow Gnawer suggesting it is not a good idea to disobey
even if it's killing him not to rush to his brother's aid
he will not go against the leader's orders"You sssaid tonight. What. Help. Tonight."
(frankie)
The Galliard wasn't repeating herself. Alpha said go. James wasn't her Alpha and she wasn't stopping until Mark told her to.(yu)
*Sniffs the air in here and looks around. Spirit world was his tribes specilty. He looks for anytihng else of malice*(decker)
It's almost anticlimactic. With everyone colliding on the last bane or two, it's hardly any contest at all.The boiler room is quiet again. The boiler, while menacing, does not seem inclined to explode. Or come to life. Or anything. Yet.
There's a door on the other side, wooden, but its frame bends and gnarls like it had at some point run molten and deformed like taffy twisted ut of shape. The door itself is black and firescorched.
"Same maneuver." This is outloud, because there's no point in trying to go unnoticed now. "Round-moons and almost-round-moons attack from front. Dark-moons from behind. Let none escape."
Without another word the Modi kicks the door down. It doesn't fly open so much as it bursts out of its frame and falls flat.
They have an instant to see the layout: a much larger room, cavelike, its walls so melted and deformed that it's barely possible to recognize it as concrete and drywall. There are smoking, bubbling pits of filth here, six of them, glowing unpleasantly, brooded over by more of the creatures (eight? ten? twelve?) that turn as the door flies open.
In the greater light here, the Garou can see they're humanoid - barely. They have too many eyes. They have stooped backs. They have loose folds of skin everywhere. Their fingers are worn to the bone. Literally.
And then they fly to the attack, swarming on the Garou en masse.
(smokey)
"Fuck..." is all Smokey can say before he aims for the head and lets off the last round, droping his gun and bracing for impact. Decker, don't let your Bad Ass fail ya now!(yu)
*Shimmering from sight again his lupine voice ie heard as he dissapears and manuvers to attack*
~WS~ Looks like my high school gym class....
*Then the Ragabash is gone and slipping amongst the shadows to flank*(mark)
It was sheer force of Will That kept the Ahroun on his feet. Most woulda sprawled senseless.. unable to act for the amount time it took the mutt to speak.But he had his attention. Blue eyes blazed back to the 'Gnawer with greater Rage, making him rethink the wisdom in gaining that much attention.
He intrrupts his query to Frankie, "She's going to Canada. Tonight. There won't be help for a week. Bane-Tender. There's not a thing that can be done here or we'd already have done it." Turning fully, "This here's my team, 'Gnawer. and you're on it. We're going to the fight. Now." Unless there was more challenge. And what did the litanny say about challenge in wartime?
(decker)
Imagine Decker, Jude and Crystal kicking ass and taking names. Now forget about them, because all told they'll kill about half of the banes, there's still a half-dozen others, and they're coming down on YOUR head.Yu Gan flits out of existence, but something's wrong. One of the banes is tracking him unerringly with one of its eyes. Just one. The rest stay facing forward. This one eye actually migrates on its head to keep Yu Gan in sight. And the bane gibbers, and instantly two others whirl around to defend their flanks.
Smokey gets one shot off - a good one passing straight through one of the eyes of the closest bane - and then its bone-tipped fingers stab straight into
Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 07, 2003.12.07.03. - hook up [smokey-sputnik-yuliya][skid row]
(smokey)
Smokey exits the club down on fifth, a stagger to his walk, a joint in his ear, and a brown paper bag in his hand. Its been a good night so far. Made almost sixty bucks. Of course, for Smokey, having a good night at this point ususally means he'll get shot or something at any moment. But such is life. He tosses the bottle onto the road, and whatever was inside makes such a noise when it breaks you know some unlucky bastard is walking home tonight. With a yawn and a roll of the soldiers, he starts on his way back home.(james)
the crash of the bagged bottle catches his ear
one lanky raggedyman swatched in a patchwork of colors that pretends it's a trenchcoat
his shoulder is cast against the nearest wall
bricks biting into the well-worn and faded fabric
a few dreads hang loose and heavy around his face
the rest are tied back beneath a grey bandana to smote the wind's intentions
deep umber eyes watch the staggering man sweeping onto the street
the vision's marred by a frosting exhale of smoke(smokey)
to James: Smokey is a young, dark skinned black male that probably isn't even out of his teens yet. He is a bit under six feet tall and has a slim but athletic build. His face seems to be set in an almost constant dead serious expression, and when you add a long scar down his left cheek and a lone tear drop tattoo, this makes him kind of an usetteling fellow. His hair and nappy and cob webbing, set into a wild and unkept set of small dreads going in every direction. He tends to wear the same exact clothing every day, sometimes it even appears to be washed. Sneakers that look more undead then on their last leg, the right one wrapped in duct tape where the sole is falling off, some dirty patched up light tan cargo pants, and an old jet black Oakland Raider's sweat shirt worn half unzipper and hood up over a simple white wife beater. A small gold cross hangs from his neck, and the letters M *star of david* H have been tattooed with that home made green shit down his right forearm. More often then not, there is a small buldge near the center of his back.(smokey's earthshattering next post:)
*walk walk walk*(james)
lungs fill with the smoke that will never blacken them
slow inhale, just as slow exhale
grey pluming to chilled coils in the air above
but since the other man is approaching
he just watches, and waits
(smokey)
Smokey dosn't notice the man watching him as he walks off towards the squat he currently calls home. As he crosses the street he dosn't have much regard for the car that comes to a screeching halt right in front of him. Just lifts up his arm in that oh so common 'the fuck you gonna do' gesture and pulls the joint out from his ear. He takes the time to light it before he flicks the guy off again and goes on his way. Great guy, that Smokey.
Smokey takes a puff off the illegal cigarette and goes about his way, turning a corner and disappearing.(james)
illegal cigarette
mighty familiar scent to those in Eagle pack
which reminds him that they've just about run dry
(it's a full moon rising tomorrow, that fact washes out invisable shockwave)
.....might as well, eh?weight shifts to pull his shoulder off the wall
steps devouring the ground in casual Bone Gnawer swagger
all the way until he's at the corner the other guy disappeared around
lips purse to send out a low whistle at the man (boy's?) back(smokey)
Smokey stops and makes a face. Did this mother fuck just Whistle at him? It is a full moon tomorrow, and that fact effects the Galliard as well. Other recent events have just transpired that make him even more ghetto cautious. Which is to say, ready to blast this guy before he gets blasted. Slowly the young thug turns, taking a long puff off the joint with one hand to his right side. "You need something homey?"(james)
the full moon effects the Galliard, no doubts
but it's... full effect on the Ahroun is unmistakable
though for all that Rage swelling tidal around him
he's wearing an easy smile
Camel dangling from his lips
both hands held out and open at his sides
(Smokey isn't the only one ghetto-cautious)"Yeh."
chin lifts in a nod up towards the fragrant smoke coiling aroud the other's head
(smokey)
He stand there a second, then gives an annoyed shrug. Garou can't feel rage. So to Smokey, James is just some cracka flagging him down two nights after he made headlines. "Well, the fuck you need partna?" Needless to say, he isn't approaching the situation like one probably should when talking to an Ahourn.(james)
some cracka with dreads and looking like he belongs in the Skids, too
so that's why James is rather at ease, even if Smokey's on guard
six-ways-furry from Sunday aside, of course"Summa your digs, if y'r hook."
the slur combined with a prominent New York accent.....
it's fairly clear what he's looking for(smokey)
Smokey nods and walks over, reaching in his pocket "How much you need homes?" Busniess. He can always do busniess. Its the low end of high grade. Hydro dimes. Small ones at that. But there is always market for a quick blast off. "I got 10s and dubs. Anything else you need to wait for me to call my connect. Money up front anyways."(james)
Smokey walks over and James smiles
the expression (permanently) lopsided, but seems jovial enough
the Camel's plucked free and ashed on the sidewalk"Best y'c'n get, n a lott'v'it. Cost nottan issue."
the guy seems genuine enough
reach into his pocket slow and open
not about to risk setting this guy off to reach for a gun
(smokey)
"Shit is good, but that so good aint much shit. I can get ya a..." He thinks, doing some figers in his head "Probably a couple of Os for two fifty." Smokey glances as James goes for his pocket but dosn't jump back. He seems rather confident a fight would go his way. Thats the type of thinking that comes from handing a hand on your gun.(james)
while he may have more than that in his pocket
James is fairly adept at pulling out exactly as much as he needs
(when a Gnawer has cash, he knows exactly how much and where)
bills whisper and crinkle as they're folded into his palm
(few coins jingle their protest)
weight shifts to momentarily turn his side to the younger, darker man
(.... wait, aren't those tribal glyphs in the stitching?)
before he's once again facing him straight on
(.... or just a trick of the light?)"Fair 'nuff." dark eyes glance back up "How long?"
there's a pause
just a breif spance of time measuring several heartbeats"'n how well y'know what goes on 'round these part?"
possibly more cash in his palm for the sake of information?
(smokey)
Smokey takes a tep back as James's weight shift and he turns, never taking his hand out of his pocket. The weed and liqour mix with the new, not so good lighting, and he misses the glyph's for now. He steps back up and takes the money. "Not more then, twenty minutes? And well enough to know not to go snitching on them project niggas. I be right back with ya shit man."(james)
it's a practiced eye that watches the younger fellow
nothing particularly invasive
just your average wariness, it would seem
and the profession garners a slow nod"Fair 'nuff... no snitchin' 'nvolved, jus' lookin f'r somethin' else."
the Ahroun contents to settle himself against this new wall for the interim
(smokey)
Smokey eventually comes back around the corner with another paper bag, strawberry philly behind his ear now. He struts back towards the Ahourn with a confident stride at this point, obviously having had more to drink, smoke, or god knows while he was gone. As he approaches he tosses Jame's the bag, waiting about three feet away. "That stright?"
(james)
his head turns to hear the footsteps approaching
inwardly amused at the kid's confident strut
(that's a positive note)
bag caught, hefted, peeked into (Death Grip, eh?) and shoved into a deceptively roomy pocket on his trench"Thank." the word clipped short by his accent and shorter by the slur "Now 'bout that oth'r thing 'm lookin' for.... willin'?"
(two ounces wrapped in celophane, dealer sticker has a black star of david with "Death Grip" written on it.... Death Grip, by the way, is what's spraypainted all around Hyde as turf markings)
(smokey)
Smokey nods "Coo. So I'll tell ya what ya need long as it won't get my ass cut up in a trash can or something. These locals niggas don't play with that shit." He leans up against the wall, waiting to hear the white boy out.(james)
"No worry."out comes the pack of Camel longs from his pocket
scratched and worn bronze Zippo soon following
the smoke lit up with trademark zpCLACK
then both are held out to the side in offer
the Ahroun takes a moment to exhale and compose his thoughts
the plume coiling lazily into frigid night air"'ssociate a mine got inna some trouble 'n shot at week'r so 'go, lost a duffle bag. 'M interested in reclaimin' it." the Fostern's dark eyes swing over to look at the thuggish youth, and a brow lifts towards the bandana restraining the dreads that otherwise hang down to his mid-back "Know where I c'n do tha' wi'out any strings that'll get th' local pantyhose inna bunch?"
scratch my back I'll scratch yours, right?
(sputnik)
Only the truly enlightened and perhaps insane individual could fitfully understand what began to transpire in that thick, brutish head of the burly Russian man. Not so tall, unlike most men, at 6’4, it was the sheer girth of the man, broad chest and thick arms, made him pay homage to most stereotypical Russian mooks seen on television. What made the big Russian creepy were the thick cords of black-grey dreadlocks that fell down past his shoulders to mid-back. A good portion of it gathered back from his face into a ponytail, held together with a large rubber band from a lettuce patch found in the dumpster.Tattered clothes of army fatigues, multiple layers of thermal and cotton shirts under large leather jacket make his bum gear for the evening. A tall, brown paper bag clutched in one hand, the clear glass tip of a vodka bottle peeks out. In his, other hand, well… more, like what one would not want to see in his hand, was the instrument of his urination. He staggers out of the alley, near the street corner, mumbling garbled non-sense words as he pissed all over the building, sidewalk and alley in a semi-circle around one small area.
(as Wolf promptly LOSES it at that entrance)
(yluiya)
She'd made a pointed example of the thugs who'd thought they would make a victim out of her and was feeling a good deal better. Only two left bleeding... alive thanks to their friends, but not likely to touch the cold dark russian girl again. Its a faint ghost of a smile on her lips as she walks now, cigarette caught between her lips and the faint scent of blood (...only bruises for her, and spots of theirs on her black...) making an interesting perfume to suit Skid Row.Black jeans, heavy leather jacket over a black turtleneck, half ipped for ease of access, jeans flared over her lower legs where low boots hit the sidewalk in rhythmic beat. Her hair was wild and loose as usual, dark to match her eyes, set in the pale face that was rather satisfied now.
She wore death beautifully.
(smokey)
Smokey looks at him for a moment, then just shakes his head "Well from what I Hear... Dude was just being a dick and had to get blasted on real quick to remind him of some manners. If he dropped a bag, aint got shit to do with that. Can't help ya get it back."Smokey crosses his arms and rolls his neck. He aint sure where James is coming from now, but he's got a good idea. If he's just asking, aight. If he thinks he's gonna do something about it, Smokey'll be ready for that too.
(james)
the Ahroun takes a moment to consider this
in all honesty, a bag dropped in that part of town no longer exists
it's been looted, fenced, and otherwise made to disappear from all but it's owner's ire
shoulders far more musclar than they seem beneath the heavy, tattered trench roll in a shrug"Sound' 'bout right."
either about the necessity of one being taught manners
or the fact the bag wasn't a part of the kid's jive"Dunno if it show' up onna lot 'r somethin'. Serve'm right f'r bein' an ass, does'n 't?"
chuckled
and the white boy with dreads holds out a hand
calloused and scarred from a musician's years on the streets"Thank for the deal, kid, gotta name?"
(smokey)
Smokey shrugs as James says it serves him right. "Shit, he survived apperently so couldn't have been that bad." He remains ready though. In the movies, this is about the part where the evil genuis mafia don says 'However' and his goons blow your head off, so it pays to stay on your toes. Most of the time, anyway. He looks down at the hand, and holds out a fist. Hand shakes are for politians. "They call me Smokey homes. Ow bout you?"(yuliya)
Cold wind ruffling her hair even more as she walked, hands chilled but she wasn't paying much attention. If it could handle the cigarette she was golden. The idea to get liquored up and binge twinkies with Una or something strolling through her mind as she headed in the vague direction of where she'd left the car.Cal it luck or more she sees among other vagrants, thugs, hookers, and worse the two talking. Smokey she doesn't know. James she does... and that gaze arrowing in more as she comes closer. A creak of leather, stomp of bootheels, and billow of warm breath and smoke as she slowly exhaled. It was all about standard for her, most days.
(sputnik)
Brown-bagged vodka bottle lifts up into the air to press against his mouth, hidden behind a brown beard that covers his face. He tilts back to take a good looong swig of the alcohol. The vodka, however, may not stay in this man’s system for long. It seems to go in one end and out the other, fueling Sputnik’s bladder to keep on marking the area he was staggering back and forth.A few other the bums, cluster around a corner, pointing and laughing their asses off in amusement at Sputnik. He only seems to grin behind the bottle, continuing to speak in that garbled tongue of Mother Russia, as he, almost ritualistically, pisses the vodka away. The formations of a Rite of cleansing taking effect on the alley he was dutifully purging of bad taint.
(james)
the smile widens
(one one side)
fingers curl into a fist
knuckles bump up in proper ghe-to style"James. Jukebox a some." on the street, to the Nation, take your pick. "Gotta'n easy way a find yeh if my boys like y'r stuff 'n want more?"
dark eyes swing shift towards the sound of boots
and beyond to.... catch sight of Sputnik.... uh.... marking territory
his head shakes with a softly rolling (growled?) laugh
but attention returns to the kid(yuliya)
She was blatently ignoring Misha past the first glance for the bums laughter. Of course most was bluster for her cousin, but she had an appearance to maintain. Still making her way towards James and Smokey, away from Misha's performance, head lifting a bit to nod at James. Thats about as close to respect as she ever got, a faint smile and acknowledgement. Then the dark eyed gaze swung over to Smokey, taking in the other with cautious eyes.Cigarette finished and she dropped it, to ground out beneath her boot as she came up near the two.
(sputnik)
The ritual draws to a finish as Sputnik steps away to face the alley, out of modesty, to readjust his clothing. He lowers the vodka bottle, tilting it upside to pour the rest of the clear liquid out, muttering something to the air under his breath. His free hand running under the liquid as it hits the pavement, freezing up instantly upon contact with the ground. Dirty, piss-stained hands wipe along his clothes to get rid of the wetness, and then he turns to look around. Brown eyes spying his cousin, which brings a delightful grin to his face, he turns to cross the street, heading towards the gathering with big, heavy strides.(smokey)
Smokey was about to awanser before all these people started to gather around him. "What the fuck? This is a social club or some shit now?" He pushes himself up off the corner and takes a step forward to survay the scene. When something isn't right, you ususally feel it. When you feel something aint right, you ususally smoked to much. Smokey is living up to his name tonight, as his hand once again disappears into his pocket.(james)
his neck stretches, chin lifting into the Eagle's trademark nod up greeting
(it functions for just about anything, really)
reacting to the distant gesture caught at the corner of his eye
then as Smokey gets the heebee jeebies
James is up off the wall, too
patchwork, glyphworked, tattered and torn trench swinging around his ankles"Maybe...." offhandedly commented, low enough so that it's for Smokey's ears only "Know'm both.... but dun think they know a give a deal space.... got a place a' fin' yeh 'fore they get'n earshot?"
smoothly segued with a sideways glance and expectantly lifted brow
they've still got a handful of yards before either Russian gets that close(yuli)
Or she doesn't care to give space until actually told and then... its a toss up. She's worked no few deals herself... day in, day out, or better stated, night in and night out. Didn't even dabble at the street level anymore... no a good deal deeper then that now.Nod given and returned and she doesn't get close enough to actually intrude completely, pausing to maybe let Sputnik catch up, since she glanced back at the heavy strides moving behind her. She's just in too decent a mood to actually care a lot right now for having more fights with the family.
Lucky lucky Misha.
(smokey)
"Yo I ususally hang out at Tully's over in Wicker. No offense, but bad ass or not I doubt they'd Let you find me over in Acrum." He nods over a few blocks, where long rows of tiers housing can be seen between larger buildings. With that, he takes a step back again, looking over at the new comers. Lots of white people in this hood tonight. Thats kind of rare where he comes from.(sputnik)
Lots of white people, but ones that bear a familiar face. The crazy Russian was starting to become a celebrity around these parts. One of the latest wackjobs to escape from some mental institution, or so the stories around the garbage cans tell it. He has recently moved into the neighborhoods and claims a small bit of territory for himself about a two block radius from the Circle-K a mile down the road.A low whistle erupts from his throat, calling out to Yuliya in his thick, broken English. "Bitch!! C'mere."
(james)
the Ahroun treats the kid with another of his easy smiles
even with the full moon rising, he seems in a particularly jovial mood, doesn't he
maybe it's just the years working the crowds on the streets has taught him to get past acting like a fullblood
even if the invisable sphere is unavoidable
shoulders lifting the trench away from the ground in another shrug"Why fuck th' karma? 's good 'nuff."
attention now, however, on the approaching Russians
his head tipping a bit to signal the deal's over(smokey)
Smokey nods and heads off, atleast for now, to smoke up the money he over charged James.(yuliya)
Sputnik calls and her answer? Thats a ncie white bird flashing with a nonchalant wave as she heads for James again, Smokey leaving. Hey, she doesn't mess with deals...usually. Doesn't even give Sputnik the glance, since he was all about pissing on eveything then calling her like some dog to heel. The ghost of a smile became a soft smirk. She carried that scent of cigarettes and blood around her faintly."Long time no see."
To James in thick agccent, semi broken english.
(sputnik)
A snort rushes from his nostrils, misting his warm breath upon the chilly air. He chuckles at the Yuliya's sign language, quickening his pace to come up behind her. Once he was within arm's reach of her backside, a big hand swings back and then forward to lay a nice big SMACK right on her ass. "Vhen bitch asked to come. Bitch say for how much longer, Misha." he chuckles at her, nodding his head to James in a poor man's imitation of the Eagle's greeting.(james)
the Ahroun removes the Camel from it's latest drag and ashes it on the sidewalk
the pack and lighter tucked away in pocket not holding the weed that's probably overpriced
but he got the information that he was wanting, even if he hadn't exactly planned on it
(too bad he couldn't do much to recover the duffle, even if that would have been impossible to begin with)
thankfully he was still keeping some of Erik's roll
dark eyes watch the retreating back of Smokey's slippery disappearence
all the way until he darts into another alley and becomes lost in the Skids"Been busy." turning towards the woman to offer a (lopsided) smile "How y' been?"
afterthought drawing the pack of smokes and battered zippo back out in offer
even if she just finished one, herself, the gesture is habitual to the Hood
doing his BEST not to burst out laughing at the Theurge's entrance
sure that it would get him kicked by the icy kin"Sputnik..." greeted on a small bounce of amusement
(yuliya)
Bruises hidden beneath the all concealing clothing notwithstanding (...she's not that weak to whine about her licks...) she shifts position with the smack and her fist swings back to connect with his balls."No need those I think... Misha... for be smacking such."
Nonchalant as she can be, and reaching to take a Camel from James with that same smirk. Just daring him to say anything. She still carries those thugs blood on her afterall... and she's not one to let insults slide for long.
"I better...now. Danka."
(sputnik)
Action. Reaction. He smacks her ass and she turns around to nail him square in the jimney. It was a good damn thing he was a metis and only needed it for pissing his rituals, or someone would be hurting....badly. His eyes close for a moment, watering up. Starting to swear in Russian at Yuliya, rubs a hand over his groin to feel for his balls, thinking they might have shrunk up into his body from the force of the blow. A low growl of warning rumbles from his throat at her. "Don't. Hit again. Need those."(james)
she plucks the smoke from the pack
he strategically diverts his attention to returning it to his pocket
both his hands held up and open in surrender
taking a deliberate step backwards and further out of kicking range
he may be a Fostern, but he knows better than to say anythingto either her plight, or the pain she just inflicted on Sputnik
not. going. there.
instead, he simply SNAPS the zippo open and offers a light to Yuliya
(yuliya)
She had that play innocent tone to her voice, even if her dark eyes were cold, and leaned in with the cigarette to light it and puff a few times, sucking in a good deep lingful of smoke. Held, savored, rush... exhaled with her warm breath and she settled back into the place she'd been in just moments before.The glance she gave the teary eyed Misha was cool and pointed then as she looked down to his aching groina dn up to his face once more. No, she wasn't weak by any means and she knew she wasn't dealing last harm. He knew she could if the provocation came, but likely not to him. He was a cousin afterall.
"Then think with right head, Misha, and I no be hitting."
(sputnik)
"Sputnik always think vhith right head. Bitch hit wrong one." he growls at her, though, his anger never went any farther than mild irritation. Such patience he must have had for to deal with her. The pain was gone just as quickly as it had been received. One of the beauties of his birth, perhaps. A thick arm snakes out to wrap around Yuliya from behind and pulls her back into him for a one-armed bear hug. He sets his hand atop her head and nookies her. "Should be careful. Make Sputnik horny. Might have to chew on Yuliya's shoes again."
(james)
the Fostern is doing his best to keep a straight face
mildly putting the Zippo back into his pocket
pointedly swallowing back any comment that would further ignite Yuliya's ire
even if the swollen moon above is just goading a confrontation"Dare I ask wh't yeh were doin' t' that poor buildin' ov'r there?"
change of subject
that's it, Jamey-boy
save your own ass(yuliya)
"If Misha want suit and money, he vhill be good, da?"That cigarette in her hand is frighteningly close to being snubbed out on Misha's arm as he bearhugs her and nookies. Some things one just had to endure from the bear at times, and this wasn't irritating too much, though she's not been the one for public affection of any sort. Too hard and cold for that.
"He crazy dog, cousin."
Oh she's prodding Misha's temper well and good tonight, riding that violence high still.
(sputnik)
Sputnik didn't release Yuliya from his hold. He kept her close to him, looking up at James with a wide grin. "Cleansing small taint from alleyway. Blights all over neighborhood, not good."(james)
"Should'a met our las' Theurge."offered in reply to the comment
he's yet to meet a "normal" Theurge, come to think of it
interesting concept, that"Wick'd mojo 'roun' these part'." nodded in concurrence with a glance thrown back to Smokey's disappearing direction "Though nev'r seen it done that way b'fore..."
(yuliya)
"Misha... need fleadip..."That cigarette hovering over any patch of skin in her reach now and she's becoming not a happy camper. It was burn him or some other self defense move. Thoughts pondering as she waits to see if he'll take the hint.
(sputnik)
"Sputnik must be creative in city. People vhill think Sputnik head case if don't cover up ritual's performance." he shrugs his shoulders, repliying to James.His sniffs the air, looking down at Yuliya as she stabs the cigarette into the back of his hand, which rested across her shoulder. Fingers tighten slightly, but his reaction doesn't change... much. "Bitch need charm school." he growls into her ear, lowering his head near hers.
(james)
"'ffective....."it's said with a thoughtful half-frown
a slight narrowing of the space between his brows
it's a true fact they have to be creative in the city
he's streetcorner performances worked out quite well for Bone Rhythms
they each have their own way"Good tactic."
any approval from a Fostern is good, right?
James remembers when he was a Cliath and needed the same
and whatever ways others choose to protect the Veil deserves reward
(or is he saying that to Yuliya?)
however, a shower would probably garner greater severance at this point
the Ahroun has been in some rank places, but Sputnik's rather ripe(yuliya)
"Like hell."Smirked response as she gave up and puffed her cigarette back into life before it went completely out, burn a useless gesture obviously. Oh well. She wasn't a weak stomach at least, though he was hitting a few unseen sore spots every so often. Thank god for being toughened up by years of the underworld.
(sputnik)
Sputnik snorts at Yuliya, he regards James with a small nod of appreciation of the Fostern's approval. He finally releases Yuliya from his arm, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Vhill need to go soon. Gone for night. Yuliya keep Una at home and in doors. Sputnik vhill not be around to protect either of you."(yuliya)
"Where go?"That does catch her attention, less bitchy coldness as she looks over at him, released to at least breath minus tight bearhug.
(james)
"Good idea giv'n curr'nt 'vents."seems the elder Gnawer is rather agreeable tonight
such a stark contrast to how he should be reacting on the full moon swelling above
it's all about the little things, right?
that's what has his weight shifting to take a step away"See yeh on the' full?"
he's got errands to run
after waiting for a reply
the raggedyman Ahroun makes his way back to the Riverfront(mark gaines)
Just one more look around the block. Wolves roamed wide over there territory, stalking the fringes with nose to the breeze for invading rivals, and worse.. rival predators. Those of the city were no different.Nostrils flared. The taint he was used to. Ignored. It clung to the area like the stench of urine and sex in a public restroom. The scab clung to him, like a soldier's camaflague. Urban wolf in sheep's clothing.
Leather jacket, cargo pants failed miserably to hid the powerful, muscled frame beneath their protective warmth. A black tobaggon-style knit cap clung tightly to his sculpted shaven scalp. Tanned white skin marked him for a life of priviledge that the ethnic minorities of this region did not enjoy. No matter if it was true. Facetted blue orbs blazed like the cauldron of boiling Rage within. The giveaway. The telltale spoiler to the end of the story that 'this was something different'. Something from the dim memory of humanity's past. The reason why they're afraid at night.
And he took them on to protect. Lucky eh?
(sputnik)
"Da, see on full." he replies to James, turning to look down at Yuliya. "Other side." he says simply to her, not expecting her to understand. "Must go speak with Mama Rat."
(yuliya)
Finsihing her cigarette, letting it drop where she ground it out, giving James a nod as he left and then looking at Misha. That sharp, cool gaze, but she wasn't angry at least."I watch her. Maybe duct tape to not hear catsquall music Be careful."
Thats as close to concern as she gets. Not a word mentioned for the fight she had earlier, or other matters that would distract him. How much did she hide? As much as she could.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMDecember 02, 2003.12.01.03. - whirlwind [everyone][riverfront - james, tristan, imogen, roxanne, lars, decker, lexi, mark, gwyneth, leroy, nelly, madoc and surely someone else I've forgotten.... hopefully this scene will get broken down into something resembling sane parts..... omfg.]
(tristan)
He knows he’s going to catch a lot of ribbing. May as well get it over with, hm? He had walked Roxanne back to her car after the tour of the warehouses he knew of that were for rent, promised again to speak to James, and then tucked her into Pricilla and watched her drive away. Been a long damn time since he clicked with someone like that – hell, in all honesty, it’s been since he met James.A thought that brings a slight groan.
He’s gonna be teased mercilessly for this, he just knows it. He can’t help the boyish grin though, fingers brushing back his tumbledown curls as he makes his way back to the warehouse. Long strides eat the cement between where they’d left the car and the warehouse, the broken windows appearing first, then the building that now houses Eagle’s Chosen and a couple of kin coming into full view. He didn’t even play today, but has enough to pause and duck into the minimart, grabbing some coffee (so he had a late night last night, what of it?) and warming his hands around it as he finally closes the distance to the warehouse door, grasping the handle to see if it’s unlocked.
(james)
the door is locked
though it's probably easier just to walk in the big bay doors that have been rolled quarter-way open
just because his little trick keeps the warehouse toastily warm - doesn't mean it provides ventilation
and sometimes the place gets downright stale
especially with the amount of cigarette smoke that doesn't creep out the occassionally broken windows
much less any other fumes from the cars and generatorthe Ahroun is sitting just to the side of the island of domesticity
firmly planted on a crateturnedchair
dreads pulled back into a ponytail tied with a shoelace
camel's hanging from between his lips and dark eyes squint slightly in the smoke
the water heater's been drug out of the bathroom
something simply wasn't working right and Bone Gnawer ingenuity has pilfered a new partinstalling the new part is the task of the moment
suffice to say - he's squinting because of the smoke and partial perplexion
handyman James is not
though the Time Life book of Bob Vila's home plumbing spread open on another crate is doing its best to convince otherwisemusic stirs the clearing air of the vast cavern of their mostly empty home
among his gatherings of the day, seems he picked up another new toy
it's old and battered and doesn't play CDs, and the tapedeck is questionable
but he found a stereo that came complete with speakers that didn't even crackle
and there's a tune by Tom Petty rolling on the radio waves(tristan)
Ah, yes. Open door, how could he have missed it? He chuckled at the sound of tom petty coming from within – at last, music! – and he ducks to grab the bottom edge of the door and heave it open a bit more. He ducks through, and then replaces it to it’s previous location, before looking around and searching out the firmly planted Ahroun studying in such concentration.His entrance couldn’t be hidden even if he were trying too – must remember to get some decent lubrication for the doors to stop the infernal racket – and the echo is just dying down off the walls of the mostly empty space. A moment, and he figures what the hell, he’ll just brazen it out. “Hi honey! I’m home!”
Long strides cross the room toward the island of domesticity, and after another sip of the coffee in still teaming cup he drapes it over James’ shoulder. “If I knew you were here, I’da brought another. But I’ll share if you want a sip or four....”
(james)
the rolling hinges squeal in ear-piercing protest
and oddly, with the amount of lube that's around for the cars
(the CARS you filthy-minded bastards!)
nobody has applied any to the great bay doors that provide easiest entrance.... must be a reason for that
but nevertheless, the kinsman's entrance cannot be missed
so momentarily, a smirking smile begins to creep along over the fullmoon's features
it's hidden, as he turns away to consult the book of knowledge once again
stretch and twist of torso pulling the faded and greyed wifebeater tight across his flesh
deeply ashed scars striping an exotic print over the length of his back from pelvis to neck
the very tips creeping out in sentient path onto the sculpted muscle of strong shoulders
as if reaching for the strange gathering of what must be ink signifying dedicated weaponry on right bicepwrench clanks uncerimoniously into the toolbox gaped open by his left boot
reaching to pluck the steamy cup from Tristan's hand"Oh, well, I lef' quiet this mor'in...." chuckle hidden in a loooooong sip ".....figure give you two s'me priv'cy."
(tristan)
Of course there’s a reason for it – probably easier to get himself a key, anyway. But James shifts position and stretches, pulling that wifebeater tight against flesh and the kin would be lying to say that he didn’t watch the flex and relaxation of muscles that move in smooth animalistic grace under skin painted with scars.The wrench clanks, and startles him from that train of though as the cup is plucked from his hand, and that chuckle is not missed even through the looooooooong sip, and the pretty boy at least has the grace to flush. Even as he’s growling in mock irritation that ends in a groan. “I knew you were gonna give me shit about that.....” and yeah, he’s laughing too. “Go on – get it out of your system before I burst your bubble and tell you it was completely innocent.....”
Mostly. Completely!
(james)
"Nothin' 'bout yeh, boy, s'inn'cent."the fabric pulls tighter across long muscle in his back when the stretch exemplifies itself
this time allowing him to turn around and cast a look pointedly over his shoulder
handing back the cup of coffee with an easy - if teasing - grin
odd, this good mood possessing the Garou, isn't it(tristan)
He laughs then and nods. “Got a point, there... even Roxanne said so when gaping at my morning wake up call.” Smirked, slow and smug as he plucks the coffee away from his friend and takes advantage of said good mood - leaning in close to whisper a silken tease across his ear... “but I was dreamin’ about someone else, all pillowed up in those dreds...”He pulls back and wiggles his brows, chuckling as he sets the coffee cup aside to peel out of the top two layers of clothing – mighty toasty in here. Handy little trick. Yeah. Down to the tank top he takes up his coffee again and drags up a seat, fingers sliding through those mismanaged curls again. “Lars asked me to check her out.” Pause. Wince at how that sounds in light of the situation and just cracks up. “oh man. Everything I say is just gonna like make this worse, isn’t it?”
(james)
.... that was Tom Petty's "I won't back down." brought to you by Chicago's own WLUP, 97.9, the best of forty minutes commercial free classic rock, up next is Dire Straights....the Ahroun does his best to ignore the tease
but for some reason, today: it gets to him
a chill racing up scar-shadowed spine
the smirk deepening to a dangerous (if lopsided) sneer
a low growl playfully chasing the teeth that snap after the silken-soft wordsbut then - James laughs
and it's not the soft sound that's eeked out lately
it's a full throated, hearty, one-hundred percent laugh
(how rare has that been in the past months....)
weight pivoting around elbow resting on BDU covered knee
brow lifting to look the stripping kin up and down"Gettin' little warm'n here f'r ya, issit?"
(tristan)
he.....growls.....and it would be a bald faced lie if the kin said it didn’t make his knees go weak. For all his teasing, he knows, they know that should the move ever be made he’d be there in a heartbeat. And then the laugh that follows? Full-throated and free.... that brings a wondering grin to the kins lips, lingering soft and fond as he arches a brow, questioningly... “you’re in quite the mood today – can’t be just because you caught me in an unexpectedly compromising position.....”But he flushes and nods, blunt nails scritching along his jaw before grasping the collar of his tank and fluffing it a bit. “Why, yes... yes it is... why do you think that is?” Grinned wickedly, before he takes a loooooooong sip of coffee, and offers the cup back toward his friend. “Tell you what, if I ever decided to taste forbidden fruit? Rox’s just the kinda gal I’d have to try it with. Playful. Fun. Easy going. Sexy too, if you like the curvier type.” Which. You know. He doesn’t.
Honest.
Oh stop laughing, will you? It was innocent! “Gives one hell of a backrub too.” Yeah – lets just keep digging that hole, hm?
(james)
"She pro'lly break yeh."tossed back over his shoulder
attention mostly turned back towards the water heater at hand
it seems though, that now there are extra parts
that weren't there the last time he looked at everythingthe HELL did you get yourself into, Jamey boy?
the mysterious part sets heavy in broad and calloused hands
and for a moment - the fullmoon is quiet
still that fond grin ambling across his features
a part of it's holding an offhand comment at bay
the rest is pure nostalgia"Gotta pos'card t'day...."
(roxanne whitaker)
The adventures of the Pretty Boy Kin and the Peroxide Fox had ended earlier, leaving Roxanne with a bemused smile on her face. During the time lapse of her absence, she set about the daunting task of errand runs and phone tag with different auto parts stores around the city to find the best bargains for replacement parts and materials to fix up Decker's Tacoma. This task became her new priority, shrugging off the duties of unpacking boxes and fixing up her small studio flat. Once, Roxanne had felt she had hunted down the lowest prices for good quality material; she placed the orders for windows and putty, to seal up the bullet holes. She then made a few more calls to her chop shop friend, Jack, to find her an out of the way garage to work in. All she needed now was a warehouse and she would have her own workshop set up. Nevertheless, that could be put off until later in the week. Right now, she had a request to fulfill and get Tristan back into Decker's good graces.It would not be too long before the familiar rumbling purr of the V8 engine hummed sweetly in the night. The sound of the heavy engine's roar announcing Priscilla's presence upon the Eagle's doorstep, more like pulling up to half open bay doors. Who or more appropriate what was Priscilla. A near mint condition, classic 1969 Chevy Nova Camaro SS, classic American-made automobile; flawless burgundy-plum paint job with polished chrome finish, the interior just as detailed as the exterior, playing homage to the latest in high tech stereo equipment. (Can we say someone had money to burn...?)
The Nova is thrown into park, driver's door opens up as the artiste responsible for this Car hobbyist' wet dream slips out of it. Black leather molded over a lithe, light muscled frame. Pants, boot-cut, flares over biker, topped by a vintage Rolling Stones t-shirt and the leather racing jacket, faded and well-worn, embroidered with a network of patches up the sleeves, many depicted names related to cars. A row of jumbo safety pins runs in a line down the outer side of the right sleeve. Long, thinly twisted cords of platinum blond (peroxide) pseudo-like dreadlocks were gathered back away from her face, a few strands left to frame the hard lines of her features. Cobalt-blue eyes, a stark contrast to the hair, scope out the bay doors. Roxanne retrieves a 12-pk bottle of beer and a large bag of greasy fast food from the back seat before shutting the door and walking to the door. “Tristan!?” calling out in loud, yet husky voice.
(gretchen heidreich)
Despite the chill in the air, and it being downright cold, Greta walks with slow undirected strides along the Riverfront. With darkness hugging her tall, slim form her blonde hair quite nearly seems to glow. With fair skin set against a dark scarf and equally dark wool coat, she is a strong palette of contrasts. Watching the toes of her worn boots, with a glances spared now and then for the path ahead of her, Greta slowly digs in her coat pockets for cigarettes and a lighter.(tristan)
He chuckles and nods. “Most likely. But what a way to go. She wants to meet ya too – see where the boundaries are and shit. She’s a mechanic that does the whole gambit – legal, illegal, boosters – you name it, she does it....” to cars. Really. “which will lead me to my next request...”He trails off and watches that dreamy look – ooooooohboy, he recognizes that look, and he moves closer, sinking to crouch by the water heater and grabs the book of how too by bob villa and holds it a moment before looking up at James and just grinning, broadly... “oh really...” Even as he reaches to rest his hand on James’ shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m happy for ya, man... real happy.” Because a look like that can only mean she’s doing well...
His gaze drops to the book now in hand though, and he contemplates the parts around the ahroun “Uh, where’d them extra parts come from?” Chuckled as he starts to read a bit – between the two of them they should be able to figure it out... –should-...
And then that pretty blond in question calls and he grins, while hissing “be. Have.” Knowing damn well he wouldn’t behave in reverse situation and hopes that James doesn’t hold back either. He’s in a good mood, they both are, and it’s all in affectionate fun. “If it ain’t Foxy Roxy.... hope you’re ears weren’t burning – come on in!” Called back toward the open door.
(lexi)
The blonde has been out of sight for a few days. [out of sight - out of mind] She certainly hasnt been bored, thats for sure...She had been quite busy, but now she heads for the wherehouse. Camo jacket over flannel shirt. Jeans and hiking boots. Blonde hair up in a pony tail. Those [feral] grey eyes taking in the night as she walks. Eriks burlap backpack hiked over one shoulder, the broken - now fixed- strap hanging lose...Always had the necessities in there. It was like Mary Poppins purse..you never knew what she would pull out of there.
She heads for the wherehouse. The whole concept still amused her, Eagle staying out there as opposed to the luxury of Runes condo...once luxury, now sitting on *chair-type things* instead of the plush couches. What day was it anyways...Sunday - Monday?
Erik had her doing all sorts of shit, but finally a break and she finds herself heading to the wherehouse...
Each breath she can see in front of her..damn it was cold..better then Jersey but still cold as fuck...the wind felt like razor blades on her face...
Couldnt they have picked someplace warmer to go...like Florida?(lars)
*The german man walks down the street once again. His long brown hair whipping about his head from the wind. Only the bangs are pulled back tight, and held in place with a leather strap.He walks with the large scar across his face without fear. The rising face of luna causes him to clamp down on his rage with a tight fist. The intensity of it glows in the glare that is his look. And the glare looks at every person he passes, why? because the effect of the moon makes him feel every possible attack in this scab.*
*And yet again, the path his feet walked slowly took him toward the warehouse of the Eagle's chosen.*(roxy)
Her husky laughter becomes her first reply to Tristan's words, as she ducks down, halfway to peer under the bay door."Yannow, I was beginnin' to wonder if someone was talkin' about me." she calls back finally, body bends to duck inside, straightening up, before walking over to them. "Got beer and food if yer is hungry."
She holds up the bags and 12pk case in her hands to show them, walking the length of pace across the warehouse over to James and Tristan. It was easy to see what Tristan was talking about. She had looks that weren't hard on the eyes at all, looks defeminized slightly, by the leather. But, then again who didn't like a tough chick in leather. The water heater lying in parts on the ground near them drew her eyes. She didn't comment, just looks over at James with a nod of her head. "Hey."
(james)
"Y'know....." brows raise in slow concert towards his hairline, deep umber eyes perusing the parts scattered about his boots like hungry puppies "..... I've.... notta clue."the all but forgotten Camel long is plucked from a side-bar ashtray
allright, not exactly an ashtray
it was more a coffeecan that bore the brunt of one of the full-moon's tempers
the top half ripped off and divits created in the leftover mess
but it serves it's purpose if it isn't pretty
of course - none of their own do-it-yourself furniture is prettythe song switches over to something by David Bowie and Queen
and dirty fingernails scratch through the tangled dreads tamed into a ponytail hanging past his shoulderblades
muscle in his arm pulling wayward paths to crisscross sturdy bone beneath
though past the confusion - handyman James is not - there's still that fond glow
it's all that's needed to tell Tristan that indeed, his mate is doing okay"B'fore yeh commence breakin' Trist'n, 'gain..... hey." a quick glance and nod up to the peroxide blond "Yeh knowledge a ca's filter inna water heaters?"
it's easy to see what Tristan was talking about regarding the Ahroun, too
the grin is easy - if lopsided - fair welcome to their little situation
and it's not pretentioned with a Fenrir-esque test, either
the way his dreads are tied back explains the slur that slows down clipped New York accent
his jaw doesn't move correctly when he speaks - it barely moves at all
somewhere, sometime, the entire left side of his face was shattered
it all healed correctly except the hinge of his jaw(lars)
*As the forseti approaches his eyes narrows as he takes in the strange car to him. Curiousity, had his gait move a bit faster, and soon he was past the car, and at the door of the warehouse. A couple sniffs to take in scents... before he is at the doorway and knocking even as he's looking inside.*(tristan)
He laughs as he looks at the parts, then meets that gaze with a warm smile. A wink, and then he’s turning to watch Roxy walk this way, moaning with delight. “She brings beer and food – if she’d just become a tripod I’d fall in love...” He chuckles and reaches up to liberate the bag of fast food from her when she comes near, winking up at her. “You know me. Insatiable appetite.”As handymen go, Tristan is only marginally better then James, and well, that doesn’t exactly extend to waterheaters. Which explains the perplexed look at the book.. “And she didn’t break me dammit...” muttered, good-naturedly. He looks up, grabbing a burger and unwrapping it, handing the bag to James, as he finally, belatedly, does the intros. “James, my BG brothah and general full-moon pain in the ass, this here’s Roxanne Whitaker, GeDub kin. She knows Mark, of th’Knights from back in the day.”
(roxy)
Roxanne had been waiting for one of them to ask, if she could fix the water heater. The bag of food, gleefully taken from her hand by Tristan. She sets the still chilly case of beer down on the ground by them, stepping away to walk over to the metal heap on the ground. One glance up to James with a broad, cheeky grin. "I'm not gonna break, Tristan, not yet anyway."Brows wiggle at them in mischief, as she turns to crouch down by the water heater, reaching out for the home improvement book.
"Tristan, I would give you the world, sweety, but one thing I won't do is a sex change. You'll have to endure my lack of proper equipment, baby." she calls over to him, crinkling her nose. Her eyes skim over the few pages of the manual, as introductions were made. "I can fix damn near anything, except my celibacy. The water heater won't be a problem, lemme just gleam over the book first." she says to James' earlier inquiry.
(james)
"Whut.... all tha' baby oil save yer ass?"James. Just. SMILES.
snatching the proffered bag of food before it's thrown at his head
mysterious part to the heater placed on the ground with it's brethren
don't have to ask him twice to give up fixing things for food"Thank'." the burger held up with another glance at Roxy, then attention strafes to the side "C'mon in, Lar'."
(lars)
*Lars caught the end of the conversation...enough to have him pause at the doorway and not complete the original idea that he was going to say hi.Blinking once, he ducks under and enters.*
"uh, hello."
*He says, and has instant recognition of Roxanne... and glances once at Tristan.*(tristan)
He.... just.... groans, muttering “better hope baby oil saves your ass when I’m done with you, boyo...” even if he’s grinning, and hell, digs the hole deeper still as he arches a brow at Roxanne “Have a heart and at least get a strap on...” A playful swipe toward James, though he doesn’t connect, too busy really inhaling a burger as he turns toward the door – just knowing this comment will come out wrong too. “Hey Lars! I checked out that peroxide fox for you.....” which is precisely why he says it that way, of course.Laughter falls as he waits for the Foresti to enter in so he can repeat intros, nodding once again as he meets that glance. “Lars – Get Foresti, Roxanne – GeDub kin. She’s cool man – she even brings food. Help yourself...” Nods to the beer and bag of takeout with a grin.
(imogen)
As Lars steps in, he can hear the brief hurry of foot steps, a smaller woman's pace quickening to catch up before the door closes shut, and avoiding the need to knock altogether. "Ta," briefly tossed in the Forseti's direction as Imogen steps into the warmth of the warehouse.Christ. Damned party over at the Eagle's turf.
Perhaps, despite the late hour, she is just out of work, because this is no casual wear, and perhaps not quite suited to the greyness of the warehouse, the dinginess of it all. Black slacks over her slender legs, shoes instead of boots. It suits her, however, even as it does not suit the locale, the kind of subdued elegance of clothing, business attire, even if, surely, the dead did not care. The temperature has dropped rapidly, and she wears gloves on her hands, gloves that are being quickly removing them as she smirks briefly at the sight of the Gnawers inhaling food and the apparent Gee-Dub kin who had brought it.
(roxanne)
Her head lifts up, eyes torn away from the book to scope over parts and then up further to slide over to Lars. A small smirk plays across lush, full lips.A simple "Hey." is offered to Lars. Roxanne leans down to set the book on the ground and begins to pull off her jacket. She starts to laugh at Tristan's comment. Snorting with a sultry retort of her own back at him. "I don't have strap on, Tris, but I got a modified vibrator at home that might work...." she flashes him a wide smile, winking. Letting her part of the coversation die on that note, Roxanne picks absently at the parts, glancing over the manual and then the water heater, making an attempt to piece it back together.
(lars)
*His first instinct at the rush of steps behind him is to turn and attack... which is quelled into something that was just a snap turn of his head. He took a step back and waited for Imogen to enter and then turned his attention back to those already inside.Cold fire burns in his icy blue eyes as he meets Roxanne's look with his own.
He stays rather quiet as the gnawers and the glasswalker exchange barbs back and forth. And decides a beer might be in order after all.*
(lars)
*And then it sunk in that others spoke to him, however breifly*
"Hello Roxanne of the glasswalkers." *He says in simple reply back. His english tinted with a slight german accent, and obviously a language taught, not used while growing up in the manner he chooses his wording.*(james)
a glance into the bag
several burgers left
it's tossed towards either Imogen (nod up) or the Forseti
whichever is closest
he, himself, is reaching for a beer
not.... exactly.... unaware of Lars' reaction to seeing the new blond
(not quite the reaction that's been happening all night, is it)boots in a comfortable tirangle of weight lock against the ground
muscle through his thighs tensing to shove weight backwards
the bottom of the crate scraping against the concrete slab flooring
a part of it is making room for Roxy to work on the heater
the other is creating the sound to drawn attention to the Gnawer that has...
... well.... already finished that burger
(does he even chew?)
a slow look meandering from Glasswalker to Fenrir and back"Y'all 'ave hist'ry?"
(imogen)
It's amazing how fast her reactions are.You can sense when a Garou thinks you're a threat. Feel it to the marrow of your bones, right to the core. When he whips his head to look at her, quelling the rage, part of what quells it might simply be that her hands lift, one more than the other, an immediate automatic reaction. She carries no weapons. She is no threat. It's not fear that causes the reaction, but some automatic habit, as if this were a scenario she's played out before.
There is a sweep of an eyebrow upward at the volley of innuendo between the Urrah tribes, a brief shake of her head, the conversation sliding around her, pushing her gloves into her jacket, and beginning to unbutton the dark suede coat, one handed.
Dark eyes flick upward as James asks his question, her gaze flicking between Roxanne and Lars.
(lars)
"No history."
*No, it was simply that the fires that burned inside. Stoked ever greater by luna becoming more full, could not be instantly dimished... as if they ever were. Unfortunately, the glasswalker kin was the next to meet the gaze of the fenrir forseti.He took a few deep breaths, and grabed a burger and a beer. And drank down the beer quickly.*
(tris)
He remains where he is – somewhat near the heater and thus Roxanne, handing her things when she asks for them. Burger has disappeared, and he grabs a beer before its passed around as well, grinning at Imogen. “Evening. You’re meal from last night’s in the fridge there, too.” And probably won’t be after tonight – midnight snackage and all.He chuckles, and doesn’t dignify Roxanne’s comment with a response. Yet.
He adds after Lars through. “She came in while we were waiting for dinner last night, Lars, Imogen and me – Imogen, this here’s Roxanne, Roxanne, Imogen.” No tribe given, he knows better then to give much of anything without the redhead’s permission. He finishes filling in. “Lars heard her ask for Mark’s address on the phone, asked me to check her out and make sure she was one of ours, simple as that.” Course, he didn’t expect the easy instant friendship – that’s just gravy.
(lars)
*Quietly, Lars walks over more directly to James. His voice a bit lowered while everyone else speaks among themselves still. The man had something to say...something he's been thinking about for sometime. Ever since he talked to decker that first night really...
And not really knowing how to ask, without sounding too stupid, he went for the direct approach.*
"James, I was wondering...
if you see Decker or Erik. I would be honored to submit myself to the tests to try and join your pack. Could you pass along that message for me, if you see them?"(roxy)
Roxanne looks up again at the turn of conversation, despite her actions. She was listening, rather intently, as they talked about her. She gives Lars another look over, then to Imogen with a familiar nod of 'hello' and finally her eyes move back to James, answering his question. "No, no history. Saw'im in the pub last night with Imogen and Tristan. That's it."It was an odd attraction between the two kinfolk, Tristan and Roxanne, some bizarre chemistry allowing them to simply click personality wise and play off the other in a quick friendship. There were very few, if any people, Roxanne had never experienced that feeling before. She motions off towards the beer, "Please, gimme a beer, Tris."
Her weights shifts, sliding down to perch on her knees, leather creaks as it pulls tightly over her muscled thighs. The light muscular structure wround its way through her hard-coiled frame, to flex and relax, with her movements. "To shed some light on things. Lars' concern probably stems from my inquiries about Mark Gaines. I've got close past connections with the boy. I'm just lookin' for him." shoulders roll in a shrug, afixing her attentions back to applying parts on the water heater. The soft clang of tools used and dropped when they served their purpose.
(gwyneth dawn)
*Gwy has just arrived in town. She has never been there but heard lots of incredible things. The Irish girl grabs a heavy bag and wanders nearby a warehoue or something like that. In fact, she has no idea how she got there. The young lady's lost*(roxy)
to James, Tristan: to Roxanne Whitaker: 6D10 Dice Roll: 8; 9; 3; 6; 5; 10((I think that water heater is good as fixed tonight *LOL*)
(james)
the fullmoon's chin dips in a nod
not used to having a Forseti around
it's all about the recalculation of that time of the month"Fair' nuff... rather playit safe 'n sorry wi' what goin' on ou'side."
then the deep umber eyes - color of Gaia's bodily soil - lift when the Cliath approaches
most Fosterns provide some constant reminder of their attained rank
the Bone Gnawer, however, is not one of them
he did just as a kinfolk for help, after all
Lars is granted the same caliber of his attention and consideration"Sure thing Lar'." the smile easy, if lopsided "Consid'r it done."
but his attention strafes past Lars
in fact, it goes past the entire gathering and towards the half-open bay doors
over the sound of the radio quietly leaking classic rock into the warehouse
there was a car door slamming outside (....cab? all cars of the pack accounted for 'cept the Monte)
and footsteps he didn't recognize the pattern of intermittant with the currently playing commercial(tristan)
He grins and grabs another beer, pops the top and hands it to the leather-clad kin who’s working her magic on the waterheater with a wink.After a moment.. “reminds me – Met up with that LeRoy who the warning went out about the imposter? Guys a freak, but ok, Jim says he’s got some old family that likes to hitch a ride now and again, that’s why he’s an real asshole occasionally. However – he’s foul mouthed and crude, and while that’s not necessarily bad, seems has a habit of getting extra protective of Mister Gaines and laying hands on the ladies and demanding explanations that aren’t any of his business. Big ass black man – can’t miss him.” Just a little note of warning for the girls.
Then his gaze is following James, brow arched slightly as he looks towards the doors and back again...
(gwyn)
*Gwy hears some voices and approaches cautiously. Maybe she should ask someone where the hell she is. She saw the shadow of a person at the door and approaches timidly* hello?? Excuse me... *Strong Irish accent*(imogen)
The kinfolk glances over at Tristan as she leaves her jacket on, but open, some relief to the heat. "Is it?" A rhetorical question. It's a toss up as to whether or not she'll take it, or leave it to the wolves, as it were. "Thanks." Non-American tones, low voiced and quiet, the particular tones of the particular part of the world she grew up, where english was the first language, but not quite spoken the way it is spoken here. Foreigner, if only slightly.Her gaze flicks toward Roxanne, a slight nod, downward, "A pleasure," automatic words as they're introduced.
A sideways glance toward Tristan, a brief smirk, "Met 'im, I think," notes the woman, as her gaze, too, flicks toward the sound of car doors, and foot steps that, to discerning ears are not familar. Her weight shifts slightly attempting to distribute it more comfortably, her posture changing, subtly as a hand reaches up to push back strands of flame hued hair away from her face, tucking them into the braid that attempted to tame the chaos of her mane.
The irish accent, perhaps catches her attention more than most, but after a beat, the woman starts to stand, favouring one side over the other, glancing toward the timid woman who had approached.
Hell. Honestly, she's surprised the woman hasn't turned tail and run off. "'Lo. Can we help yeh?"
(lars)
*He listens to Tristan, but his head turns to follows James' gaze out of the warehouse. Another approaches.Safe inside, he sniffs the air...and old habit that's hard to break.*
"Not like you or me James."
*He says softly to James.*(swyn)
*Glances at Imogen timidly and smiles* Uh... well... yes! Could you please tell me where I am exactly, ma'am? *She's a Fianna kinfolk and for those who can sense, she's a PB4*(james)
"Evr'ybody got their fan-club....."and whatever the result of that comment was is lost at the voice filtering in from the door
as the yet-to-be-replaced PR guy for the pack, James is up and crossing the room
right on the tails of Lar's instinctive warning
invisable sphere of Rage that grows in concurrence with the moon floating before him
and by the time he's a few feet away from the timidly lost woman
there's no question about what she is.... fancy that.
another one."Pretty bad sect'n a th' riv'rfron'.....thinkin' y'r more'n lost.... miss...?"
brows lift in question
most likely asking her name
much less her business out here(gwyn)
*Timid and full of grace. Her voice's deffinately a blessing and her movements reveal the breed in her blood. She turns her eyes to Jamie as he approaches and smiles* Indeed... I am. My name's Gwyneth and thank you for the info, Mr...(imogen)
She catches the gist of Lars's words, her gaze sliding sidways toward the Forseti and then the Ahroun, before her attention slides back.The amount of Fianna blood in the area has perhaps just gotten intolerable. Pure Fianna blood, for that matter, since that was something that the doctor had in spades. James falls in to speak, and the slender woman, turns away, leaving the Forstern Ahroun to whatever he might plan to do.
(roxy)
"Same here, Imogen." her eyes drift up to settle on the redhead, returning the nod.A hand stops what its doing with a wrench, drops the tool and replaces it with the offered beer. She raises it to her mouth, taking a few deep swallows, silent and vigliant on the new timid creature that creeps her way under the bay doors. Roxanne shifted her concerns with casual interest back down to the water heater. She sets the bottle down, going back to the task of fixing it. The job was coming along quite well and with haste.
(tristan)
He chuckles a bit at Imogen- given a fight between LeRoy, even in full asshole mode, and the pretty redhead, he’d lay bets on Imogen any day of the week. He tips his beer back, half way watching James and the girl asking directions, while partially watching Roxanne as she works her magic with the waterheater.(lars)
*Lars settles in behind James instictively, but doesn't say anything.*(james)
timid and full of grace
a definite opposite of the guttermutt standing before her
six foot two and topped by a tangle of brown dreads tamed into a ponytail that dangles past his shoulderblades
a wifebeater that has seen far better days clinging to his torso above tattered and faded BDUs that were secondhand far before he owned them"James." slowed down to include all the letters, there's clarity in the word compared to something that slurs the rest of what isn't clipped by an obvious accent originating from somewhere near the Big Apple "S'm'thin' in partic'lar y'r lookin' for?"
he can feel Lars moving up behind him
even if the Forseti is doing it nice and quietly
it allows him to lean a shoulder against the wall near the doorframe
dark scars on his back creeping up over the curve of muscle bunching as arms fold loosely across his chest(gwy)
*Smiles politely since it's quite hard to understand what that guy from NY is trying to say* Jame...nice to meet ya. *Glances at Lars and wonders if she's at the right place...or if she's in dangerous. Her eyes turnt o look at James again* No... not really... I am... I mean, I've just arrived in town and I assume I got lost. I was looking for a place... I know no one in town. *Smiles softly* I'm sorry if I disturbed you or your friends.(tristan)
He stands and relocates the food bag, grabbing anther burger before reclaiming his... chair? Bits of pipe and wood made into something that resembles a seat, anyway. He settles and starts to inhale the second burger. Between bites, as Imogen moves this way again, he asks quietly. “So, Imogen. Hatching a plan for a christmas gift for Decker – need some help though. Roxanne here is gonna help me get the Tacoma back road worthy and in pristine condition. I’d like to have it done before Decker notices, but have a feeling that won’t go... think I should just fess up and tell him and ask to borrow the truck, or have James borrow the truck for a few days and get it into another workspace?”(imogen)
She doesn't much appear to be watching anything, here, neither Roxanne with the waterheater, nor James and the stranger, taking out a package of cigarettes and zippo lighter with one hand, tapping out a cigarette and sliding it into her mouth. The process is one handed, and she doesn't light the cigarette before offering the cigarette pack to Tristan, raising an eyebrow in query."A Christmas gift?" she echoes, her lips twitching in a wry smirk around her filter, reminded that yes, it was that time of the year. "Christ, I don't know," if he takes the cigarette package, her hand returns to pick up the zippo from the bench, lighting the fag, drawing in her first drag in, before she answers again, exhaling cigarette smoke, "Guess it depends on how important it is fer yeh to surprise 'im."
(james)
"Nuh." he may go six ways from furry on Sundays, but today is a far more congenial day, something that happened earlier simply inspired this striking good mood in the streetcorner drummer, or maybe it's just the inherant style that somehow graces his rough appearences "Bett'r y' come up here th'n fall into whatev'r's lurkin' ou'side." weight lifts from the wall "C'mon in."he turns to lead back inside
no verbal or outward sign Lars is expected to watch his back and bring up the rear
he's well aware what mere kinfolk are capable of doing
but the exposure of his back reveals the patterning of scars that disappears beneath his belt
the thin fabric of the wifebeater doesn't do much to cover it
some Garou inflicted some serious damage some time agoand there's something strange about the warehouse as he leads Gwyn inside - it's warm
not just comfortably warm, but warm
as if there was a heater running full throttle
and not a lick of it escaping the bay doors
there's an offhand wave to the chairs pulled straight out of Junkyard Wars"Make y'rself comf'ble."
(gwyn)
*Shrugs slightly at his invitation. She's not sure she should go inside. As she steps in she feels a bit comfortable. Glances around and at everyone there. Nods slightly. Obviously, she's feeling insecure. Smiles at Tristan* Oh... thank you...*turns to James beforing taking a seat* I'm not sure I should be here...*rubs her neck as she places her heavy bag on the floor*(tris)
He laughs and shrugs. “I’d like to surprise him – but I’m much more interested in not having his blade shoved into me again for any reason. Might take up to a week too, don’t know if I can spirit the truck away from him for that long either.”He tips his bottle back again, before inhaling the rest of the burger. Gwy gets a nod followed by a good natured. “Lo, there.” As she is invited in to take a seat.
(imogen)
A shrug, "I can't see why he wouldn't believe James borrowin' his truck. 'Course, yer lost if 'e says no." A glance upward as Gwyneth enters, but unlike Tristan, she doesn't offer a greeting.
(roxanne)
Too many different conversations were going on at one time for Roxanne to focus her concentration enough to eavesdrop. She attunes her ears to Imogen and Tristan, listening with bemused interest. She offers Imogen a wry smirk. "All I need to do is drive the truck out of here with my life intact. I can fix it and redo the paint job on it. I've already got the parts on order. The truck'll be gone a few days maximum, unless of course, I have some problems." she shrugs her shoulders, looking down at the water heater, which was now complete and fixed. Not one spare part out of place. "Which I doubt I will."Hands swim over the ground, clinking tools between her calloused palms, dropping them with a defined clunk into the tool box. She looks down at her dirty hands, brushing them clean, as best she could and stands up.
"Well, water heater is finished. Now it just needs to be installed." She calls over to James, resting her hands on her hips and looking quite proud of her handiwork. Roxanne was a useful kinfolk, if anything, when her talents were put to work.
(lars)
*Lars understands what to do without words. Such are unnecessary..even wasteful.He stands by the door as James walks inside, and watches the woman walkin. Almost shaking his head from the wift of pure breed that assaults his nose.
As Gwyneth enters, he closes the door... but continues to stand by it.*(tristan)
He considers this, and nods. “Think I’ll ask James to make the request first – then if he says no I’ll fess up. Least I gave it a good college try that way.”He looks back at the waterheater, and the lack of ‘spare parts’ on the floor and grins up at Roxane as she stands. “You’re mighty handy to have around there chica. Backrubs and hot water? I’m definitely keeping you – Mark can kiss my ass.” He winks, and opens her another beer, handing it up before he offers one to Gwy....” Wanna beer?”
(lexi)
She had been walking towards the wherehouse...and then she had stopped for a beer. Why the hell not, it wasnt like she had to be anywhere any time soon.
Eriks burlap backpack still hanging over one shoulder. Camo jacket open over the flannel shirt...Jeans, hiking boots.
Blond hair pulled up into a pony tail. She could be cute...if she really wanted to be...but she had much more important things to worry about then caking some make up on, and playin some cut eol -fuck me now- kinfolk.
In fact...it was rare to see her smile, let alone laugh. Very few got through the labrynth that was her mind..
Very few actually tired.
She didnt really care about that though...she didnt need them to like her, they accepted her in the pack, that was enough for her...
She had spent a few days with Erik getting shit figured out...She had done what he needed.
Now she headed to the wherehouse..much better setting fo the Eagle pack then the luxury of Runes condo. Much more fitting.Moving to the bay door she lifts it up and ducks under it to enter.
(assuming thats how one enters a wherehouse))
She Takes a look around to see who is at the flophouse tonight.
(decker)
What is with people and closing the door on him lately?About ten seconds after Lars closes the door, it slams open again. If Lars is standing close enough, it'll slam open on Lars. Decker walks in, steelshod boots [must've been kickin someone's head in again] tracking suspicious redbrown grime over the bare concrete. His grey eyes sweep the gathering as he half-coughs under his breath. Twice the usual amount of Fianna pure breeding tonight. Then he fixes his attention on Lars.
"So ya want in."
Doesn't word travel fast among the Eagles.(roxanne)
She laughs aloud, head canting at downward to shake slowly. Peroxide blond dreadlocks gathered back into a ponytail with a few strands framing the hard lines of her face. She accepts the beer with a heartfelt thanks. "I sincerely try to be, Tris, it's better than sittin' around on mah ass and actin' pretty." she cracks open the bottle taking a deep drink. "I'll let you carry the looks, Tristan, I'll do the grunt work." pointing a finger at him. She finally, lets her cobalt-blue gaze fall on Gwyneth with a curious glance. Lush full lips pull back in a false smile for the Irish lass. Garbed in leather pants and a vintage Rolling Stones t-shirt. She fit the gutter street appearance like some of the others.(gwy)
*Beer is something she loves. Purses her lips at the offer. She grew up drinking beer she could say. Nods slightly and takes it* Thank you...*sips it. Maybe beer would help her to calm down her nerves. Not she's a nervous type but being there among unknown people isn't really cool. Notes the false smile... and wonders if she's welcome there. Smiles at Roxane, but her smile is genuine and not false*(lars)
*Two people enter suddenly. His own rage was high, luna was showing the face of his birth. But before he could react at Lexi walking in..the door is slammed up against him.Lars doesn't even grunt..and his eyes widen at Decker's words. but how..
After a blink, he nods his head*(lexi)
Well she sees them.
They all happen to be there...or so it seems. That door may as well be a revolving door, cause as Lars entered...
Then She entered
Then Decker entered..
She finds herself among a whole shitload of people..some she knew, some she didnt...
Didnt really matter...She was welcome here, she was already told that, so instead of making any introductions, or being overly friendly...she grabs a sort-of-chair and sits..
Reaching into the burlap backpack, which resembles Mary Poppins purse at times, she could just pull shit out of it and make someone go *huh* howd that all fit in there.
Out comes a 6 pack.
Out comes a bottle of whiskey for herself.
She slides the 6 pack over to where some of the other people were...so it sat out as public beer...Opening the whiskey she takes a drink and wipes her mouth on her sleeve. Erik style
Then she just observes.(james)
"Well.... y' c'n either freeze." nodded back towards the open door "'r get t'know ev'ryone."it's grinned easily enough
if... somewhat lopsided
he's never going to smile completely again, that's for sure
but he's not about to coddle the timid kin no matter how lost she is
(he stopped coddling kins long ago)"Beaauuuuuutiful."
immediate switch of attention to Roxanne's declaration
and oddly, he really is talking about the declaration
and not the Glasswalker kin herself
door slams back open to announce the Modi's entrance
oh hey, there's Lexi, too
and he can't help but laugh at the greetinghe told the kid to consider it done
and since the other two Garou are busy
James grabs the creeper that was settled up against the toolboxes
rolling the weight of the waterheater proper onto it
he's not going to risk breaking it by dragging it to the bathroom
it just got fixed, dammit"Wha's this 'bout me...."
aimed towards the powwowing kin before he moves the heater away
(gwyn)
*Her eyes show she's lost... even more than when she was alone. She glances at those who has just got in. She remains in silence, next to Tristan and James. All she does is to drink her beer with pleasure and everyone can notice that. Watches them curiously. The more one listens, the more one learns... she has heard that before. Shrugs at James comment though she hardly understood what he said*(tristan)
“Welcome, ma’am.” Winked at Gyn before he stands, chuckling, and moves to ‘help’ James with the waterheater, though he’s the far stronger of the two – obviously. Mainly it gives him a chance to lower his voice and whisper his request since the modi has now joined the party.They’re gonna need more beer.
But with a grin, he murmurs under the level of conversation. “worked a trade with Roxanne to fix the Tacoma. Need you to ask Decker if you can borrow it for a couple of days so I can get it outa here and to a garage where she and I can work on it. Wanna return it in pristine condition.” James will know how much it means to him to do so. Stupid mistake, there is no easy retribution, but at least he will fix what was broken partially because of him. “If he says no, i’ll fess up. But i’d prefer to keep it on the downlow until finished...”
(imogen)
"However yeh want t'do it," says Imogen to Tristan, negligently as she stands, walking over to one of James's ashtrays, tapping cigarette ash into the pale glass receptacle, exhaling smoke out of the corner of her mouth.Lexi's entrance garners a glance, a brief smirk, which is what the blonde tall Fenrir gets for a greeting, followed by Decker's abrupt no-holds-barred entrance, greetingless and the beginnings of what is probably pack initiation.
The cigarette returns to her mouth, the hand falling away to rub briefly at the back of her neck, before her attention shifts again, dark eyed gaze across the occupants of the warehouse, features blandly expressionless.
(mark gaines)
Word got around, as it often does, about the haunts frequented by the more boisterious packs in a burg. This fit the bill.Steam from the now-at-rest engine seemed to trail and cling in the wake of his movement to the frosted chilled air. Leather from that jacket creaked in the same rythmic pace of athletic shoes on wet pavement. Faded blue jeans flexed alternately taut and loose with each easy stride. Fingerless black gloves flexed along with the errant opening and closing of calloused hands. The sculpted sheen of his shaven pate was covered with a tobaggan-style knit cap. The clothes served as good insulation to maintain the fire within, but failed to conceal the tall one's athletic form.
Facetted blue eyes burned with an altogether different fire, one brought on by his birth under the full and pregnant face of Luna. The lines of his youthful handsome face were set in a stoic expression of everpresent control- always a hairsbreadth from being lost. His even breath made frosty wisps that added to the imagery of the boiling cauldron within.
Nostrils flared as he neared the territory of the other wolf pack. There was no hesitation as the Alpha rapped on the door of the warehouse. Announcement was an old courtesy even one of his modern ways enjoyed.
(decker)
"You want in, you run with us fer a while." He sidesteps to let Lexi in the door with barely a glance needed. She's Get, he's Get - they got an understanding of the blood. "You hang around our turf, you protect our kin. You're at our side in battle 'n when our Alpha talks, you lissen. Coupla weeks go by, maybe even a coupla months. You prove we kin trust ya at our back - then yer in. Git?"
(lexi)
What the fuck had she chosen to use as a chair..this one was definately made in a drunken stupor, cause there was something poking in her ass... but shit, she didnt make it and wasnt gonna bitch.
Readjusting herself, maybe it was meant for someone shorter...she drinks from the whiskey bottle...Watching, listening, and just staying quiet...A nod to Imogen...wow so she wasnt completely invisible tonight. Didnt really matter to her, she didnt need to be the center of attention...eyes move to the cigarette in her hand..mmmm she didnt smoke a lot..but once in a while it was nice..and when she had a whiskey bottle in one hand, a smoke was always nice..Too bad Imogen couldnt read minds, cause she wasnt about to go askin for one.
She watches Decker talkin to Lars...Erik had met Lars for only a moment...but then again anyone seeing Erik for a long time was rare.
She leans back a bit, careful not to topple off the sort-of-chair. Observing the mad tea party of misfits.(roxy)
Roxanne leaves the installation of the water heater to the Gnawers. She bends down to scoop up her jacket, moving off to claim the makeshift chair, that once held James and Tristan's ass on it. Long legs stretch out, boots crossing at the ankles, left over right, splaying the jacket over her lap. The beer finds a place beside her chair on the floor within hand's reach. She spurns her attention on the pockets of her coat, looking for something and listening. She was only here by invite of Tristan. Whether Eagle's Chosen wanted to let her stay was another issue entirely, but they were going to be neighbors soon. Might as well get cozy.(lars)
*Well that's simple enough...and the odd thing, basically what he was doing already. Perhaps that was a sign of things to come.But it also gave time for the pack's alpha to really be able to judge the fenrir forseti.*
"I accept the challenge, Decker-rhya. I will earn my place in the pack."(james)
he's not exactly rolling the heater into the bathroom
more towards the little closed that had been converted at some point in time in the building's spotty history
next to it is am even more questionable closet which purportedly within the behemoth second-(fourth?)-hand heater fits
that's where he drops off the heater
it can be installed later
that much he knows how to do
there's just other things that need doing at the moment"Need a borrow it a few day' comin' up soon, an'way." he doesn't elaborate on why "Fine me 'nother ride I c'n trus' onna road trip, 'n I'll ask t' borrow the truck."
back towards the group
.... somewhat
he stops on the far end of the island of domesticity
a glance to Decker and Lars, seems the Modi's handling the firsts
another imperceptible expression at yet another knock on the door
but his attention is somewhere else, calling out:"Im'gen..... gotta minute?"
(gwyn)
*Siping her beer, she hears some few words that reach her ears and brain. Did she hear kin and Alpha? Hell, she's among family. Glances at Decker curiously and stands slowly. Not that anyone really notices her there but she'll at least try to introduce herself. Chews her lips softly as she watches everyone, waiting an opportunity to say something*(decker)
The unrelenting grey stare relaxes after a beat. Decker nods - up first, as always - and lets a bare hint of a smirk show. "Jus' keep doin' whatcha already been doin'," he says, and then reaches behind him to pull the door open on a swing that leaves him behind it, instinctively shielded against whatever intruder might stand outside.But it's not an intruder per se. It's Mark Gaines, resident Glass Walker fostern. Decker glances the other over, then grunts.
"Hell you doin' here?"
(imogen)
Imogen was not a mind reader, but she was, at times, terrifyingly perceptive. Lexi isn't that far away, and her pale blue eyed gaze was caught by the smaller woman (because Lexi, and in fact, most of the people in the room dwarf Imogen by a foot), and such a gaze is perhaps not so hard to read.She glances at James as he speaks, crossing to where she'd been sitting, to pick up the cigarette package in her left hand, and toss it in the Fenrir kinfolk's direction, before turning to face the Bone Gnawer Ahroun, a bare glance over her shoulder as the warehouse becomes victim to yet another Ahroun and visitor. The rage must be almost intolerable for some. It's not quite past half moon, but it's a tangible feeling, almost as if it were solid.
"Yeah," she says in James's direction, exhaling the last of her cigarette smoke, and stabbing out her cancer stick, "What is it?"
(mark)
The blast of below-freezing temperature, from the Modi's opening of the door, is accompanied by the well timed blast of frozen breath from the muscular athlete's heated chest cavity. Blue fire glints in the newfound light.Decker's grunt is greeted by that street-style backwards nod, so popular with the kids these days, "Welcome wagon. Forgot the fuckin' fruit basket," his deep bass carried with a resonating rumble that a person could feel along their spine.
(roxy)
A hand snakes out to retrieve her beer bottle, crossing muscled arms over well-rounded chest. Her free hand rubs over flexed bicep on her bare left arm. The other hand, beer in it, brings the bottle to her lips. Cobalt-blue eyes drinking in the activity. She calls over to Gwyneth from behind her bottle. The rolling rivers of pent up testerone and rage, did very little to affect her sense. "You might want to wait until formalities are done, before speakin' up."It was the deep, resonating bass of a long ago familiar voice that snaps the Glass Walker kin's eyes. Roxanne begins to choke on a long sip from her bottle. Eyes widening at the sight of Mark. She straightens up, legs folding inward, as she heaves in air, forcing out a coughing fit.
(lexi)
Wow...perhaps Imogen was a mind reader...she catches the smoke..and actually cracks a slight smile and nod in Imogens direction...Pulling out a matchbook
-still from Jersey -
showing how often she she used them, she lights the smoke...and takes a big drag....then the tall blonde stands up...Leaving the beer on the floor for the others...she tosses the now partially drank whiskey bottle back into the backpack, and throws the good strap over her shoulder.
One more quick glance around...still no words, no intorductions...whoever needed to know here here did...whoever didnt know her, still didnt.
She walks towards the door - which seemed to now be blocked by yet-another-new-face.
She doesnt look like the friendliest of folk, she certainly isnt the welcome wagon...Giving Decker a quick nod...she mutters..."later deck" enough said there...and yet her only 2 words since she got here.
Standing at the doorway, feeling the razor sharp wind on her face...yeah why didnt we pick Florida again? She looks impatient...as if she had been waiting to exit for an hour, when in fact it was about 10 seconds.(tristan)
He nods, that easy going grin sliding free in thanks. “I’ll see what I can drum up. Thanks man.”There’s other things he needs to tell the Gnawer too, and as Imogen makes the decision whether to make the trek over to join them he does so, quick and dirty, soft and sure. Sometimes you gotta take the opportunities given. “Got another message from Jim. Heard what I said about LeRoy right? Turns into more of an ass when his anscestors are skinriding. Anyway – other stuff. There’s a pack in Hyde. Took a shot at Jim, ended up loosing his duffle of all his shit when he had to run. He’s all right, but pissed as all fuck. Says they’re Gnawers.” Thats one. “Saw Erik, gave him the rundown on everything up till couple days ago – he said he’d be around soon.” That’s two. And last but not least. “There’s a guy – Isa. Claims he’s bastet, Decker kicked his ass to the curb the night we went after the baby – he’s hanging with Jim, keeps trying to get in with the packs for ‘mutual benefits’ but he won’t say what those are exactly. Like I said, Decker kicked him to the curb, Jim says he’ll keep an eye on him, and get with me to pass along anything we should know.”
Then a grin for Imogen, belated one for Lexi, and then a glance of concern as Roxanne folds over into a coughing fit – all before he see’s who’s at the door...
(gwyn)
*Rubs her forehead. Sips her beer and breathes deeply. Feels like a ghost among them all. Glances at her beer and chuckles. She doesn't know what to do exactly. As she hears Roxane, she approaches and speaks in low voice* Uh... sure then...(decker)
Decker looks down at Mark's empty hands, then back at the man."Like booze better anyway," he says, and he sounds serious. It's a suggestion for the next visit. A jerk of his head toward the yawning interior of the warehouse and its small island of liveability where most the others were congregated serves as an invitation. Lars is on his way out, and Decker shuts the door after the Forseti. Locks it. Nothing fancy: just a heavy steel bolt as thick as four bunched fingers shot into the wall.
The clank echoes off the high vaulted ceilings. Decker turns and brings up the rear. There isn't much in the warehouse. Just a few sleeping pallets, a table or two, some food, a "new" water heater, a generator for the emergency lights that serve as lighting.
(james)
he's on the far side of the little island of habitation that the majority is currently occupying
it affords the Ahroun a nice view of what's going on in their warehouse
(grand. fucking. central.station.)
plus it spreads the Rage out nicely in the cavernous interior
allowing something of a semi-private conversation
a foot hooks into a sortofchair and pulls it to where he can sit
nodding to Tristan to grab one, too
and waving Imogen over
he waits until the firey kin joins them before continuing.... or at least taking in the Gnawer kin's spilling his guts
and there's a nod and scowl at the first, another nod at the second, and slow consideration of the third
(all of it passed on to the Modi totem-phone-impression-style, since he's busy and all)"Allrigh'..... now eith'r'v yeh come up wi' more'n the Maneat'rs?"
so the mention of Gnawers shooting at Gnawers makes him a bit suspicious
(lexi)
Ok that was just -rude-
She doesnt say a thing, she wouldnt call him out on it right there...it was Decker for fucks sake, he wasnt the one to bitch at...but the fact she said ~later Deck~ and was standing at the door should have been a good indication she was heading - out- and to have the door shut and locked at that moment was like a quick slap in the face, even if unintentional.
She didnt care though...no big deal. She was just a kinfolk, so being invisible was common. As Decker invites the new face in, she pulls open the bolt and again releases the door heading out...She almost chuckles...but that could very well break her face. Backpack over her shoulder...Beer left as offering to the hounds...She heads out into the night...The wind slapping at her face..reddining her cheeks.(imogen)
She rubs her hand briefly against the curve of her forehead, a brief movement that might denote some level of fatigue, deeper set than some days. The hand falls down to brush against her slacks, the pale white of her skin almost shocking against the black of her pants."Yeah. S'why I'm 'ere," she answers James, leaning her back against the almost frigid wall of the warehouse, the gift not extending to warming the cement. The cold seeps through her jacket, clothing, bandages to her skin, as she continues, her hand pushing back strands of hair from her face. "I've got bodies. All o' 'em 'ave been eaten."
(roxy)
The 6pk of beer that Lexi brought still sat out in the open for claiming. The 12pk that Roxanne brought was almost depleted of its goods, perhaps maybe 1-2 bottles left in the case.Roxanne remains, double-overed, slightly, beer hand held away from her. Free hand curls into a closed fist to pound over her chest a few times. Watery eyes, squeeze shut, until her air passage was clear again. And the coughing fit subsides a little.
(tris)
He runs his hand through his curls, holding them back... there was... ah – that was it, names. “in the park – names are Dizzy and Smokey.” There. Then at the question he shakes his head. “nothing more then vague rumors of ‘dog attack’ victims. Still none of ours been taken. Jim’s working on some details, but nothing as of yet.” Just call him the messenger boy. “no one seems to know anything definite...”(mark)
Lars is given a nod of recognition. The half-moon and he were acquaintances, after all. Decker's suggestion was answered by a sound that ... well could mean anything. Affirmation. Noncomittal. A deep rumble of an "mmmm,"As soon as he stepped into the interior, it was either by chance or fate that he stopped underneath the circle of emergency light, "Wish this were a social call," he said to the Modi behind him. Trust, for the positioning? Confidence? Something.
A swift motion he uses to mop that knit cap off of his face, allowing the sculpted, symetrical features of his scalp, and strong jaw, to capture the illumination. A slow pan of those fiery windows to that burgeoning Rage had the dual purpose of checking out the interior, as well as the individuals. Any of the ones within.. James, Tristan, Imogen, Gwyneth, received just a touch of eye contact, but not enough to unsettle those not of the true birth, and a barely perceptible nod.
He had shrugged off the black leather when his eyes fell upon Roxie. Beneath was a longsleeved shirt that hugged those obvious lines of sinew like a second skin. For a second he paused holding the garment, considering her. The barest beginning of a smile won the fight to overlay those hard lines, "I'll be goddamned," a slow smokey sound in the acoustics of the warehouse, "You sent me that email, Roxie," he stated with decisiveness.
(james)
a brow lifts at Imogen's affirmation
well, that worked out nicely
and the Ahroun lets his neck flex into a nod
distracted breifly by the nodup offered to the new Garou that Decker escorted
the Gnawer shifts in his seat
drawing the thin wifebeater tight against ashed scars in stretch
dragging the battered Jansport pack a little closer
fishing out the Thomas Guide
flipping through until he finds the detail surrounding Hyde Park"He say where 'e was when't happen?" deep umber flicks to Imogen "Y'got time 'n place?"
(gwyn)
*Finishes her beer and lights a cigarette*(decker)
"Ain't ever a social call," mutters Decker, a little distracted by the running commentary over the totemphone. Lexi slamming the door loudPosted by james at 12:12 AM.12.02.03. - it's more than one [imogen] *me[riverfront]
(imogen)
In some ways, there is a benefit to smoking: It gives the illusion of warmth, even if it is frigidly cold outside, the wind howling as it is. The smoke drawn into the lungs is warm, and the rush of nicotine to addicted blood vessels and brain cells is likewise, warm. The ember is burning hot, of course, but is too small to offer but the smallest of consolations, and truely, she can barely feel that, anyway.The sky is cloudy, and the clear nights are always the coldest, so in a way, she fears what it will be like when it is clear, because it feels cold enough already, the mercury dipping to just above freezing, but her skin, wind whipped, feels that it is much colder. The wind comes from the west and is unforgiving, whining through the channels made by high city buildings.
Her jacket is buttoned to her neck, the collar flipped up for the added suggestion of warmth. She was, however, without the protection of gloves, her right hand in the pocket of her jacket (uncomfortable be damned, her hands getting frost bite was worse than her injured shoulder being put out by her posture), while the other hand sucks in what meager warmth can be offered by the cigarette smoking between her index and middle finger. And even that warmth is taken away, as she places the nearly finished fag between her lips for one final drag, her hand now freed reaching out to rap firmly on the packwarehouse door.
(james)
"Wou'n think yeh c'ld get any paler...."the words follow blast of furnace heat from within the warehouse
that really is a useful little trick
especially when one's sleeping on the streets of Albany or NYC at this particular time of year
the burgeoning spirits of Christmas Cheer can only keep one so warmin comparison to her covering neck and wrists and any other available bit of flesh
he's stripped down to little more than pants, socks, and boots
the faded kakhi cargos hang, baggy, belted low on his hips
(lean winter weight'll do that to a Gnawer)
cuffs wrinkled and broken about the ankles of dull leather boots
one shoulder rests against the rapidly cooling doorframe
covered by dreads that fall in haphazard gathering of jungle vines reaching for the floor
the opposite hand rests on top of the held-open door
forming a nice little frame in and of itself for the kin to walk through"Y'r jus'in time f'r tea."
(imogen)
The blast of heat from inside almost makes her feel colder, reminding her of the chill she experiences from the outside, the chill that cuts straight through her, as she casts him a dry glance over the 'pale' comment. He has seen her pale, paler, but those are much bloodier moments, and this is nothing more than cold. It is slightly shocking how much paler she can get with this chill. Pale to begin with, the rushing of her blood away from her frigid skin toward her body's centre core leaves her skin almost translucent with the chill. The cigarette is taken from her mouth and flicked away, the ember killed as it strikes the warehouse wall.She wastes no time getting into the cold, as she bends her head to dip beneath James's self-made door frame and into the more than welcome warmth controlled by the Gnawer's gift.
That still piques her interest, really. How it works. Air moloecules speed up when heated; what sped up these? The science of things. Searching for a reason why when things truely work on a level she cannot understand. "Figgered I'd come back 'bout th' man-eaters when yeh had less company," she explains, soaking in the warmth. "'nd tea sounds just bloody brilliant right about now, thank you."
(james)
James, apparently, is still in that good mood
rather jovial even with the prospect of what she's come to discuss
allowing the door to squeal closed on grinding hinges behind them
boots slough-scuff a slow tattoo of his strolling passage
heading towards the domestic island of Junkyard Wars rejects"Dun jinx it." admonished in cavalier aside "Mention s'm'ne 'n they'll fuckin' appear."
perhaps there is a hint of superstition within that flagrant tone
(they should really start charging admission, at this rate)boot connects one of the more recognizable sortofchairs
scooting in to scrape across the slab concrete flooring to situate just infront of the spaceheater
just because the inner air is downright tropical doesn't mean her core temperature will change instantly
most spaceheaters would have a coronary at the prospect of supporting a cavernous space such as this
but that little rite needs only a hint of warmth to insulate a space even such as this
and you can bet he's had that heater running since morningthe sortofchair is between the spaceheater and his bedspace
across the mattress is a smattering of papers, including the mapbook the good Doctor marked last night
the Ahroun, however continues past to the space that might, in another light, resemble a kitchen
the coffeepot is turned on to heat water
and he sets to searching for a rogue box of something soluble"Wh't else y' got?"
(imogen)
Don't jinx it, and she smirks, her hand raising in a brief gesture as if to ward off the evil that her words might bring down on them both.She watches him navigate his way through the warehouse, not yet sitting, instead standing near the space heater, and beginning to unbutton her jacket. Both hands. Her shoulder is healing.
"Want help?" offered as she pulls the jacket off, first one arm, then the other, more cautiously, the shoulder stiff and not able to perform the variety of movement that she expects of it. She's armed, though almost casually so, perhaps because she's been armed before, and treats the gun in the shoulder holster as a part of her daily apparel (like braiding her hair, brushing her teeth) rather than something to be considered as something more. The jacket is laid near the heater and she turns to walk toward the poor excuse for a kitchen. "Meant t'tell yeh. S'not jes' one Garou, s'gotta be... five or six, maybe more. It's a pack size. No way it could be less than five, I can guarantee that."
(james)
"If y'act'lly want tea 'stead'a hot chocolate....."it's an offhand comment, really
they would be blessed to find anything more cultured than Swiss Miss amongst the pack's kitchen uh.... menities
and even though he has a feeling she's armed
his back is still towards her
attention focused on the boxes
long lines of muscle folding in smooth curve
dark scars standing out starkly on winter's paling flesh
lattice work crisscrossing as if he were crouched beneath some shadow-casting veranda
however he's not, and those marks will remain no matter what light he may one day walk intoand from the position - she can see his shoulders sag as she adds the last
the rustling of Mac'n'Cheese and other such boxes hitches into a silent pause
(a chill runs through him, but she can't see that)
but soon enough begins again as chin drops in sharp nod
(apparently something can dampen that formerly brilliant mood)"....an?"
(imogen)
"Tea's fine," she answers as she crosses the unrefined barrier to the pseudo-kitchen, attention flicking across the area. Tea really is a one person affair, and despite her offer, there's not likely anything she can do.There's a pause, and she gathers her thoughts, reorganizes the details, and steps through them one by one. "And I'm not sure what else I can tell yeh. They're definitely eatin' humans. It's not a random attack'r ... jus' bit marks. They're tearin' em apart," she stops short of actually describing the awful damage done to human flesh and bone, tucking that away in a box labelled for such gruesome deaths that have come across her table. "Swallowin' it." Unfamiliar with some of the Garou laws Imogen may be, but perhaps she knows of that particular tenet of the litany. Or equally possible, she simply has a distaste for this.
"Yer... fur," the tangent abruptly takes a detour and she alters from answering the questions to asking one. It's slow in coming, as she phrases it just so, "does it vary mostly by tribe? There are samples o' fur, an'.... well. F'r lack o' better explanation, if this weren't Garou fur, but wolf, I would say some o' 'em were different wolves, but same breed. If it works th'same f'r Garou, it might mean somethin'."
(james)
he's purposefully continuing to face away from her
box of Lipton unearthed from the box as a buried treasure
it's held, coveted, in broad hands, as deep umber studies the contents for some reason
(he won't let her see the fear surfacing in his eyes)"I.... hear' stories'vit, when I w's a cub."
translation: she doesn't need to go into detail
they were horror stories told to those of his age
but that's not all that's getting to him
it's the stories of what happened to those simply suspected of it
(ManEaters are a Bone Gnawer camp....)
it's shaken off near visablymug, hot water, tea bag
the steps done in quick succession
and the seeping bag in mug now held out to the kin"Dun'a.... norm'lly texture'n color nev'r looked pas' - though I'd s'spect' Decker's coat'd look diffr'nt'n mine un'er a 'scope. I'd give yeh sample if'r when yeh wan' a test th' theory." shoulders roll in a shrug, helpess when it comes to scientific means of discovery "'m hopin' Jim'll know s'm'ne wi' the Rite t' get this ov'r wi' soon."
(imogen)
She can feel the weight of James's moodshift like she feels his rage hang in the air. She is a perceptive woman, and empathic regardless of her callousness that leads to the contrary. She regards James's scarred back for a long moment, as if by watching the line of his stooped shoulders, she might read his mind. Her gaze shifts as he speaks, and finds a point of interest that really isn't interesting at all. She won't remember it later, so it could not be of much note.She takes the tea from him as he hands it to her, "Ta," she says, lifting the tea to inhale of the steam, her fingers catch the string of the tea bag, pulling on it slightly to allow more water to seep through the bag, and let the tea steep. She shakes her head slightly, "I don't know. Yeh all look th'same t'me, in that form," a wry smirk. "No offense."
A consideration, "I don't think yeh would make a difference. It won't prove t'me tha' s'tribe that makes th'difference in fur, it would only prove that yer fur is either like, or not like th'fur I have already." A lift of a shoulder, one sided shrug, "S'really all it is, under a microscope, anyway. Texture 'nd colour. Just I'm lookin' on it on a different level." She simplifies it, automatically, "th'shape o' the fur, th'shape o' the cells. On a larger size, that's texture 'nd colour. If that's specific t'tribe, I might be able t'say there's a possibility tha' some o' 'em are one tribe. Possibility, but not f'r sure." A smirk, "Never hold up on th'witness stand, but maybe it'll mean somethin', eventually."
She takes a swallow of the tea, wincing slightly, either at the taste or the heat, before she glances at the silver-grey watch on her wrist, "I've got t'go. I've got tests that're supposed to be done this evening," and she'd better be there to receive the responses after making them work that evening. "Thanks fer the tea," draining the cup and putting it down, probably near an accumulation of dirty dishes, before she turns, striding to her jacket, picking it up, beginning the steps of going back into the cold. Do up her buttons, tug up her collar for warmth.
"Oh, and.." as she tugs her hair free of the jacket, the braid pulled over one shoulder as she glances over at the Gnawer, "The veil's in no danger, yet. Witnesses are sayin' th'usual." But it might not always be that way, her tone suggests, but she does not say.
"Night," and she pulls open the warehouse door, and steps back out into the cold.
Posted by james at 12:00 AM