March 31, 2004.03.26.04. - caernraising pt. 2 [vanguard/center/rearguard/scouts/kin] *wm[caernraising pt 2: vanguard/center/rearguard/scouts]
(kegan)
"Far too easy what crack you all smoking that was a fucking bitch of a fight and there is more to come who cares if they hear us howl I think they know we are here."~Hal moves with the Thurges pushings along quickly as he can~
(nahimana laughing coyote)
Nahimana calls out to Yu Gan "Come, let me heal you!"(barny jameson)
The shaggy Hispo that is The knights Templar emerge from the sewers. head swiveling around, then he shakes the worst of the moist stench from hsi fur, before he moves towards the VanGuard.(erik)
A nod down, acceptance. It would have been a fun plan. A smirk directed James' way. Hella fun, but fuck it. "True 'nuff."(tucker/james vaughn)
Tucker Riley, Street-King lifts the man hole cover the rest of the way, helping Barny up. It is then taken in his hands, used to sharpen his claws as he ge waits for the rest to emerge from the hole.James will be last, wating for news from the rear gaurd. Floating bodies don't bode well.
((Sorry, had to use a gift during intermission.))
(nahi)
Nahimana closes her eyes and holds up a hand for a moment, her face peaceful, then she opens her eyes and smiles a bit before taking on the stoic expression she has been wearing since this all began
Nahimana calls out "Yu Gan! Come to me if you need healing(yu)
*the invisable Scout moves to his pack to be healed*(cinnamon carlisle)
*staying next to Jim's shoulder, she waits, moves, whatever, watching around them. A nod to Yu, more felt than seen, cause she's still in the "shadows"*(kegan/hal)
~Kegan sees others joing them and yells out~ Yo who can blood well heal me up?~Hal moves out of the sewers and heads with the group to the shipyard~
(nahi)
Nahimana uses Mother's Touch on the invisible Scout to heal him. A soft smile touches her lips before she assumes the stoic expression she'd had since this all began
(eyes of medea)
Emerging from the sewers, the Fury seer takes a look around, shaking the filth from her fur, though the stench will remain much longer. Her bow is lowered slightly, but the look of Rage in her eyes never dims. She stays next to Jim and her packmates, holding back the urge to howl again.(nahi)
"Come to me, Cousin." Nahimana calls to the one crying out for healing, still refusing to leave Jim(james)
the Ahroun acquiesces Decker's decision with a nod up
lopsided (forever lopsided) grin angled towards his Alpha
damn skippy it woulda been fun
(packing up with a bunch of Get seems to have truly rubbed off on the once mellow Gnawer)
but this isn't the time for funone final tug on the make-shift bandange ascertains it's durability
not much, but at least he can hope to avoid irreparable damage
(banes/bsds)
Out of the sewers now.
(Out of the frying pan...)The Garou gather on the quiet lakeshore. The wind is stiff; it smells like fish and water, but not salt. In the darkness the hulking giants of industrial cranes and pulleys, of abandoned half-completed ships and wrecked hulls, groan and creak.
Water laps against the shoreline. The deserted shipyard has a taste of abandonment to it that goes deeper than these human creations, these relics of industry and shipping.
It's the abandonment of a slumbering Caern.
And they've come to change that.There has already been battle in the shipyard. The remains of some ten Dancers can be seen, and the damage they have inflicted in turn is seen on the vanguard Garou. As the Garou move amongst themselves to restore their strength, there are some who are ever-vigilant. And they're the ones that will realize it's too quiet. Too still.
The world is holding its breath.
The storm is just beginning.(barny/rasputin)
Barny looks over the Vanguard. A glance to the theurges and his pack, and then he goes towards the Eagles, silently. James and Erik are both greeted with a warm hand, mothers touch flowing through them.
(hamish/jim/sergei)
jim has a moment of clarity and digs around in his bag quaffing the nightshade talen fading into shadow, the battle was close they were nearly there he would strike from darkness.Hamish stayed by cliona and surveyed the scene as they converged with the others.
Sergei lopes along with his pack trying to catch up with the others.
(kegan)
~Kegan gets up and heads over to find the one yelling and hopes to get healed up~(spider)
At the head of the Center's procession, twin matte black spiders. Mechanical arachnids, with glowing red eyes, guns and buzzsaws and other bizarre weaponry mounted to their bodies. They move in unison, metallic legs clicking along the ground.Spider is somewhere behind them, amongst the Center and the Theurges, but primarily near Sasha, silently guiding them.
(yu et al)
Yu Gan: Stands with his pack, invisable for the timeHyde: Moves to the Eagles side.
Jaan: Is with the Raptors
Will: Circles high above keeping watch*
(eyes of medea)
~GS~ Who needs healing? I can heal.She calls out to those who look wounded, keeping her place next to Jim and her packmates, her eyes searching the darkness for what waits outside.
(ricinus/tristan/mina)
Cliona emerges from the stench and shakes herself. Going to take a bloody month in the bath to get rid of the stench before Logan will so much as look at her again. Kegan yells and she snorts. Impatient – isn’t he? But she waves him over her direction and to Nahi. HT. –He’s one o’mine- Moving to Kegan, she lays a hand on him, and slides the healing of the mother through her touch....Tristan joins then, eyes searching – and the tension slides from him to see James. That’s all he needs – he’s in one piece. (...so far.)
Mina joins with the rest of the kin, a search for Bartol, eyes alone, then silently stands.
(kemp)
Jittery, or maybe it was just watchful Either way he was trying to watch all angles at once, making him jump around like a squirrel on speed that was getting shocked every few seconds by an electric cattle prod. Don't like this, don't like it. Way too quiet. Quiet before the storm. Muttering away over the link.(cadeyrn drake)
He comes out of the sewers with the others and looks about, his breath stops for a moment as he watches it all unfold before his eyes(erik)
He comes out of the sewers with the others and looks about, his breath stops for a moment as he watches it all unfold before his eyes(curata)
Curata continues to stand in his warform, blood caked the white undermarkings on his entire front. Torso covered in his and spirals blood. He moves with ease, looking off in the direction of Cliona with a snort. Words muttered in a gutteral tongue under his muzzle.(leroy)
Shift down into homid, escape the manhole and shifts back into Crinos. Tossing the frying pan over his shoulder, the massive filthy matted silvery once white pelted LeRoy glances about. Head falling askew, a touch of a grin if there could be one crosses his maw. He sees James. Why Batter up..and he's moving towards him bright eyed like never before.(jude/kris)
*Hearing the offer to heal Jude walks over to Eyes of Medea*
I could use a little of that spiritual Gaia love *chuckeling and wincing as the pain shoots through his arm again*(tucker/james v)
A nod to Hyde as the Fang finishes his sharpening. "Good to see you here. Ready for the big show?" As nonchalant as the words maybe it's the high speech and his body language would bely his vigilance. It's a time to defend, things are coming to a head.The Caern must be opened.
James comes up right before the rear gaurd makes their appearance. His hulking nine foot one furry frame standig near them. First impressions not withsatanding he's glad they made it. "Let's not wait. We need to open this thing."
The Caern must be opened.
(josephina/ana)
Hackles rise along Anastasija's neck, the silence seeping into her flesh like the chill of a winter night. But this one fraught with, the unnatural and the dangerous. Across the totempole an issues is warned - even if its not necessary - as tension coils through that dark and scarred frame.Josephina, emerges, the freshness of the air a momentary relief (even filtered with the stench of blood, the stench of death) to nostrils impugned by the filth of the sewers. Jocelyn, Pagan, stands at her side - in some many ways the image of her kin - in stance, in form, in the silver-white fur matted and crusting with blood and excrement. And they? They stand with the Raptors. Arctic beast-wolves, ready... waiting.
(barny)
Barny moves among the gathering. Mina is the next he finds, and Mother's healing touch is granted her, before he moves back towards the theurges, quaffing from a small vial, his wearniess slowly dispelled.(nahi)
"I am a healer as well" Nahimana says in a strong voice(decker)
Decker.Restless, the Modi watches the healing, his pale eyes flinty in the moonlight.
Finally, he has no more patience. "Seek out the Caern's Heart, Theurges. Then we cross over and raise this Caern if we must die for it."
(eyes)
The Fury Seer looks at the stranger who approaches her for a moment, and then nods slowly, reaching out to touch his shoulder as she channels her healing Gift into the Garou before her.(binary)
Periphery.Edging her favorite two theurges [.. deep inside she CARES deeply - about the caern] And so her check in's center around Sasha and that freaky spider guuiding theurge. [Whatever works.] Unbloodied. Unblemished. The Front and rear guard did thier job well.
its JUST so bloody quiet.
[Scan-scan-Scan](kegan)
~Kegan grins at Cliona~ ~GS~ Your a doll lass.Hal waits for the others before he heads to find the heart~
(nahi)
Nahimana looks to Jim "Are you ready?"(sasah)
Sasha is moving through the group as they join up with the Vanguard. Pitch-black fur dark against the night, bright yellow eyes gleam as she looks over those wounded and in need of being healed. Her Crinos head lifts up, settling her gaze on Decker and the other Eagles. She slips away from Spider, seeks out Kemp to brush by him. And gives him a nod, glad to see he was still alive.As Decker speaks out, Sasha turns to look towards the other theurges.
(nelly bell crenshaw)
She was the last from the sewer waltz. Shifting back into the green furred dire wolf just upon concrete ground. A pause was given, a shake from nose to ass... flinging sewer sludge off of of massive body. And after, she simply stares.. those white-blue orbs taking in 360degrees of 'ok where the fuck are we now'....And strangely enough four Gorgon Gators emerge behind her. Do not ask how they crawled up. Its the Wyld. It does what it wants. And they out of the rest, looked truely pissed off.
(james)
the Gnawer grins at Barney
weight fully borne on healed leg
(they gotta stop meeting like this)
then at Decker's command
there's another grunt
and he follows(jude/kris)
*Looking down at his sholder as it heals slightly and gives Eyes of Medea a smile* Thank you.
(ric/tris/mina)
Cliona winks at Kegan, before she moves back to take her place by Sasha. More breathing room here, the Red-furred Hispo moves with an ease, and flanks the woman/beast with the Key. Chin lifts, eyes searching, ever watchful – let’s go get this bloody prize.(cinn)
*her form is indistinct, good thing, too, it's blue. She and Nelly would make a good pair, green and blue wolves, what a riot! Lets get a few more colors and make a rainbow pack. That would just be too much! She stops the thoughts buzzing in her mind and waits next to Jim. For them all to move.*(eyes)
"Um..." She pauses, reaches over to Nah, "Can I have that Water of Iaso? I'm having some trouble here..." Her eyes flicker towards Jude and she frowns, "Should have been able to do more." A pause, and then she glances towards the others and starts moving in the direction of Sasha, raising her bow again. It's just...too quiet.(hamish/serg/jim)
Jim moves to join the others (i'm confused where everyone is) with nahi and cinn beside him on either side.Hamish moves with his beta and stays near her ready to join the fight.
sergei moves with his pack where they go he goes
(nahi)
Nahimana gives Medea athe Talen "Aiya. use it."(barnu/ras)
He returns to Hispo, taking up his place again. Head turning this way and that. The real battle begins here.He is in the umbra, and despite the totem link, he feels alone. A garou have a tendancy to do that, surrounded by thousands of thrashing banes, tearing at each other, tearing at you. He has no words now, no thoughts but survival. Where are they? Where are they? Where are they?
(erik)
Eyes are turned out, ears pointed forward, nose working at the scents on the air. The wind should be off the water. he knows what to do. Decker knows he knows what to do. Pack.(yu)
Yu Gan: Moves forward with his pack to find the center.Hyde: Moves with the theurges, to help with the raising*
Jaan: Stays with the Raptors. Readies for battle
Will: Still circiling above.
(jdue/kris)
*Chuckeling a bit* Well these wounds don't seem to want to heal today
*Pausing and noticing that something seams to be bothering her* What's the matter?(banes/bsds)
Brand."It is dangerous on the other side. Our Theurge has warned us of banes beyond count. Already he may have given his life."
Decker.
"Then call your totems, if you have one. And be well prepared for the onslaught."
--
As if on cue.
As if on cue...Kris and Will, the coraxes, spot them first. Manholes from two or three blocks around shifting. Moving.
Lifting.
Blasted creatures crawling from them. Black Spiral dancers. Crawling from the sewers blocks around. A pack. Two. Three.
Twenty, thirty Dancers rising from the ground. Dancers lain hidden until all the Garou were on the beach. Their backs to the lake. Hemmed in on all sides by the Dancers.
With a sudden crash, the sewer opening they had come out of slams shut. It will not open again.
TRAPPED.
(will)
Will: INCOMING NASTYS!! You furrys look sharp!!!(eyes)
She nods to Nah, taking the vial and handing it to Jude, "Drink this. It will heal you." A pause, and she glances away and starts to answer. Instead of an answer, she howls a warning, letting her arrow fly at the nearest Spiral.(kris)
*Kris drops down and shifts into homid form, yelling out loud* We got some party crashers comeing our way!!!(b/s)
What nearest Spiral?
They aren't in sight yet. Not of the Garou.But oh, they can hear them.
Laughing. Chittering. Howling. Whining. Screaming.
In symphony.(leroy)
~GS~ "Oh hell yeah" He roared as he found himself pressing up towards Drums on Skull's flank. ~GS~ "No miss'n this time Andy" Gurgling a chuckle. It was all he could do to keep his excitement down. Lets see..what will come out of the ground tonight? This Battle? Maybe a lobster..hmmm. Flashing James his frying pan. ~GS~ "Came prepared" Joking? Do you remember the crab?(kemp)
Still in Crinos, though he does manage a lift of his maw to Sasha. Ears swiveling towards the sound of the crash like he had radar trained in those ears. Lips peeling back from sharp teeth with a wolfish smile as his muscles tense and dance beneath his hide. They were coming and it was going to be nasty.
Jude + Kris
Sat 12:35AM CST *Jude hears the shout and the growel looking around ready for battle**Kris takes to the sky again, landing on a roof and shifting to homid, getting his pistols ready*
Tucker Riley/James Vaughn
Sat 12:35AM CST Tucker is right above the manhole, when it crashes shut he cries out for all to hear. "Theurges, top the center. Ahrouns.... We kill the blasphemous Wyrm creatures and everyone else surround the Crescent moons. NOW!.The Glasswalker, James is backing toward Sasha, keeping the theurges to the center, standing at the ready to die if it means slowing down a spiral.
Nahimana Laughing Coyote
Sat 12:35AM CST Nahimana stands ready for battle in Crinos, her eyes searching for the first to show themselves
Spider
Sat 12:34AM CST Spider [and the Hunter Spiders] persue Sasha, following after her. Black Spiral Dancers emerged, and their only escape route clamped shut behind them."Come on.." he says, the Glabros Glass Walker looking toward Honeysuckle, touching her Crinos elbow. "Catch up later..we have work to do."
Cinnamon Carlisle
Sat 12:34AM CST *she raises her voice, muzzle toward the sky, hidden in the shadows, near invisible, and starts to howl out the Anthem of War again, encouraging, Egging on, giving heart to those that might be faltering. Not letting the hyena like jibbering get to her or the rest*(caed)
He points his shotgun at the sounds of them coming and waits for his shot(barny)
He turns, flashing around, Great hispo form bristling.
~GS~ Theurges to the center! Form up on em! They must live!~
Then he rips the night air with a great howl. The pony sized Wolf raising its shaggy head to the heaven. Gaia, tonight is a good night to die! The Full moon, his birthright glaring down on him from above, and rage burns in his body.
The razor has found a vein.(caern)
Jim honestly, may not care. He may not even be able to feel it anymore. hear it anymore. Sense it anymore.The message is overwhelming. (This is a Fetish that is designed to find a caern. When this caern has been found, the spirit will be free.
The spirit.
Longs.
To be free.And will take any steps it can to get that. Including flooding the Ahroun's mind with it's goal.
At least the message has changed.
No longer east. They are east.
MovemovemovemoveLEFTmovemovemovemovemove...
(cinn)
*she switches the tune and calls on the Wyld, the gift of her ancestors. Calling on the wyld within each of them. "Call of the Wyld" obviously, singing her heart into it as she'd never done on stage before.*(erik)
Erik looks to the sky and recites a silent litany of names, calling upon his ancestors through the considerable bond he has with them. Its gonna come down to tooth and claw, and that is the aid he seeks. Only guide his hands to the blood of his foes. Only that. It is not such a big thing to ask.(kemp)
Shifting, moving through the group to position himself near Tristan. He'd give his life for mom. And even though Tristan might not be able to understand him in this form, his mouth was going. "Shouldn't be here. What if you get eaten? Crap." Even though he knew Tris would never stay out of the thick of things if he could help it. Were they going to get to this caern or stand here and die waiting? Jumpy as hell and getting worse by the moment.(jude/kris)
*Kneeling on the rooftop Kris looks as though he's saying a prayer* Father Raven, the warriors of Gaia and your children could shure use any help that you may be willing to provide
*Not much of an actual prayer but he's not really a prayer guy, that's part of the benifit of haveing a Totem tell you that he's your totem and not having to seak him out*(james)
velvet ears pin against skull as the symphony echoes through them
ebbed to a wayward smile listening to LeRoy's quip
shoulder shoves against the far larger Garou in jest
lifting up the steel pipe adorned with a nasty railroad spike sticking out of one endoh yeh... he remembers the crab
the strength of Eagle crackles through his frame
the fury of a War Anthem thunders from the Gnawer's throat
[Inspiration](ham/jim/serg)
Jim follows the call moving left without rhyme or reason almost oblivious to the dancers, inky black like the night. moving to heed the fetish. nothing else matter at the moment.Hamish grinned in crinos looking more like a snarl and flexes his clawed fingers moving with cliona to protect her but itching for the fight. fianna were scrappers.
Setgei shifts up to crinos once more and moves with his pack and the other ahrouns his one malevolent eye glaring around him his muzzle pulled back and snarling. silver fur bristling.
(yu et al)
Yu Gan: He looks back. Shakes his head* Jim, lead the theurges. QUICK.. we fight to the last.Hyde: Hyde concentrates and channels his ansestors as well. Asking for their aid to bring the caern around.
Jaan: Likewise reaches inside and calls forth the line of kings.
Will: Gets a bit higher... incase those spirals have guns
(b/b)
The howling - the Symphony of the Abyss - whines louder and louder. It rattles in their bones and bores into their skulls, like a dentist drill employed on entirely the wrong part of the anatomy.Listen close and you'll hear the fate they have in store.
Listen close and you'll hear the sweet promise of torture beyond imagination.
Listen close and you'll hear the secrets of the Wyrm, the malignant cancerous decay of Malfeas.Listen close. And you'll fucking go mad.
--
Decker.
Simple.
Eagles, to me.Front line. With Barny. With Tucker. With Brand. With all the rest of the brave and heedless Garou who wanted to die well tonight.
--
Brand:
Front line. With his pack. He doesn't even need to call them.(eyes)
She stays close to Jim, letting arrows fly at any spirals she can see, following the Ahroun where he will lead. There is nothing else left to do but this. When the song of the Spirals would intimidate her, she begins to howl as well - the Anthem of War, singing her Seer's heart out in defense of Mother and all she holds dear.Make it worth it. Make it worth the sacrifices made. Make it worth it. Please.
(tucker/james)
"Gariel Riley!" Softer...."Dad.... if you can hear me help me out here." The Ahroun calls the strength of his father feeling the strength of the lost Fang fill him. Snarling now at the unseen foes.James. Waits.
(ric/tris/mina)
(Cliona)
They can hear them. The sliding scraping of manhole covers, the chittering laughter, the howling and the whining. Here they come. (...our mother, who aren’t the earth, blessed be thy name...) With Sasha, with Spider, near Jim. Theurges in the center – it’s time to do their best.(tristan)
And here they come. This time, they are with the calvary. Assorted Garou, two Ravens and three kin. Let’s get this party started. There’s nothing but the water, nothing but the Gaians, and then the spirals. A grab for Lexi, and a nod to the side. Not much to hide behind, but there’s something that might catch a claw before tossing them backwards. Flanking – that’s what they were told to do. That’s what they should do. “Take left, I’ll take right – sting em until someone can cut em down.” He’s still got ammo, and he’s intent not to get in the way of fur and claws. Outside, cover fire, keep them busy. Crouch... ready... aim....(at nothing that will quickly become something...to Kemp. “I’ll be fine. Fight with the Eagles.” Thump on shoulder, there’s love in his eyes.
But it’s time to fight. Period.
(Mina)
She see’s Tris go for Lexi, nods quick understanding and does the same. Away from the flurry of fur and claw she joins the happy bee-stinging bullet group. Find a spot, crouch, get ready. (.....aim.....)(sasha)
There was very little time for a show of affections.. Sasha nods towards Kemp, watching him head off to protect Tristan. Pitch-black fur bristles along her back, yellow eyes seeking out Jim to find his locale. She looks to Cliona and Spider. "Follow Jim." she cuffs out with a snort, pushing her way through to keep up with the BoneGnawer. He was the Gate-Finder and She the Key-holder.(cinn)
*That music, that damnable sound of madness, grates on her nerves and brings back memories she wished stayed burried. Her howl ends, she nods to Nahimana and GRABS CLIONA, then snags Nahi's arm. Shroud incomming from her friend. She stays with Jim*(kegan/hal)
~Kegan stands on the front lie ready for the onslaught he is muttering something under his breath only him and gaia know what it is though he waits for the fight~~Hal stands with the Thurges and waits its all he can do he grins~ "Here come your meals Gators"
(cade)
He moves forwards, drawn by the impending battle, his soul sings out at it and he begins to hum his battle chant again.(nelly)
Ears flickered around but her gaze remained viligant upon.... was that Adonis? Staring upon the backs of the Eagles for a fleeting moment... fleeting. The sounds of gutteral moans echoed around her, rumbled like a thousand bass drums. She looked at the theurges grouping... then began to nip upon the hides of the gators nearest to her. They were ready for blood. And so she readied herself, staying between they and the cluster of cresent moons. Muscles rippled, contracted... ready to dash in which direction, who the hell knows.... lips raised into a permanent snarle. Ears flattening against her skull... battle was on. And so the Galliard quelled her voice and listened.
(ric/tris/mina)
Cliona Shakes off Cinn’s hand. She stays with Sasha – she follows Jim – she needs her arms free to fight whens she needs too.(josephina/ana)
Before their sight bears down on them, one of the Silver Fang is blurring, Josephina's edges intangible and shimmering and faded [Blur of the Milky Eye], as she moves behind her cousin - a look shared, a nod, and readiness for attack. Jocelyn will strike, head on, head first -the nearest spiral which should tread her path, and her packmate - difficult to discern, easy to miss, will flank and maul. Perhaps she looks the coward, her frame coiled and tense behind the other Fangs - but in this, she is ready.Too bad fur can't be detached and drycleaned. Its going to be a bloody night.
The scarred Lord's teeth clench at the mind-rattling sound, muscles bunching beneath exposed and roughened skin and fur as she takes post beside her two packmates - ready for close encounters while the other two, as they can, provide necessary cover.
(erik)
Erik steps up next to Decker and cracks open the shotgun, checking the shells. A quick eye and he slams the gun closed. Clip dropped out of the desert eagle next, quick count of ammo, and replaced. Pull back. Ready to fire. "'ere we go." Quiet.(lexi)
Towards the docks.
Approaching. Approaching the chaos.
she could feel it in her body. This was far from over. far from fucking over
2 arms, 2 hands, 2 legs and no bloody wounds as of yet. This was a remarkable moment. Blonde hair pulled up off her face into a ponytail. Standing 5 foot 10ish, she moves.
The backpack over top the old army jacket. Still draped over one shoulder.
Tristan isnt far off from her.take left he'll take right
works for her, left was ok.
"try not to get shot" another quick teasin joke, in case this ended bad, and quick...
2 kin gone. Quick too...and she didnt even know who the hell they were.
not the social director of kinfolk, that was for sureDocks seemed to be alive with noises. Garou, Spirals and kin oh my. [lions and tigers and bears oh my]
Doesnt take her too long to asess what was going on. the darkness swallowing most of the Garous faces from her vision...it was dark, night, and there was a whole shitload of activity.
Gun pulled out, as she leads the kinfolk into the chaos. [pied piper] or not, whoever wanted to follow could.
She wasnt afraid to die. [bring it on]In fact she expected it. Each and every time she expected it, and somehow had managed to escape it thusfar.
(curata)
The chortling laughter of the enemy struck against his ears, rising a snarl from the Fianna. Cuffing out in disgust, Curata was moving up to find a spot to take action, until his eyes fall upon Tristan. With a quick eyeroll, Madoc is also at Tristan's side with Kemp to protect the Gnawer kinfolk. Growling out to Tristan. "You. shouldn't be here, Tristan."He looks on to move into the defensive.
(cinn)
*With a frown she lays a hand on her shoulder* You want disappear! Stay touching. Stay with Jim! *as Nahi grabs Jim's arm and completes the circle*(kemp)
And he was called to the front with his pack. A last look at Tristan before he was moving to get shoulder to shoulder with the other Eagles. Part of him just wanting to get it over with, do or die time. Waiting just made it worse and now the sounds were raising the hairs along his spine.(barny/ras)
He is with the Pack. He is with the Ahrouns he knows, and trusts, and others he doesnt know. But they are here, they are ready to die for what they belive in. That is enough for the large Coggie. Fangs bared, threads of saliva hanging from lips and fang both. Spirals taste foul indeed, but Spiral they will taste tonight.Into Darkness, Into death, teeth bared, screaming defiance and hope of salvation for the mother as they go!
The inspiration of the Ahrouns, the strength of will pounding in his skull. He will not bend, nor break. For the light pof Gaia Will shine tomorrow. He must belive this.Alone, in the chittering dark he is. Eyes wide open, teeth bared, he dances with the banes, in some symphony of the devil, tearing at his skin, his flesh, drinking his blood as he drinks theirs. Darkness surrounds him. But Darkness will not break him.
[They will come. They must come!](spider)
Reaching into the depts of his (now shit covered) leather jacket, Spider activated his second Bottomless Magazine. The gun remained inside his coat, ready; somebody would need it before this even began to really get under way. With a curt nod to Sasha, he follows her, always at her side.The Hunter Spiders follow behind Spider. A metallic wall guarding their flank as the Theurges move toward Jim, and follow in his footsteps.
(leroy)
Alongside James Branson, LeRoy finds his footing again. Remeniscent of an earlier battle perhaps. Silent as he calls upon his illustrious ancestors, in silent prayer biding their aid for the task before him.He was ready. Wide arms outstretched. Taking up a position to cover high attacks. His eyes only glint with an inner musement towards James seeing if like before he'd claim those striking at the knee-caps.
(cade)
He stops as he arrives near the front lines, watching and waiting.(binary)
It would be nice.
[...wait i'm sorry wrong character.]Binary does what's needed. Her pack would have been an asset. But she's here, alone. On thier behalf [..if the trojans can hold of tens of thousands with a small band] Leonida's Own. They in their disparate parts of the world, on planes, in cities must all look briefly upward inward - and feel some part of this. Sodals - the one to the many - the many to the one. And she draws in the benefits, of abilities, of pack. Wolfen eyes narrow [Lone. Wolf.] on the beast who drops to a knee joining the periphery of those who heard the shaman. Those who say with bodies and minds...
To them?
[...through me.][Sodals, Drawing on Lono's Brawl and er..One of angie's alertness.]
(b/b)
Decker nods to his Alpha.
Brand, reaching across totemphone: A little longer, brother. A little while longer.The symphony arcs out over the deserted beach, the cracked asphalt, the sagging fence surrounding this old, desolate, doomed shipyard and its hidden heartspring of a Caern.
It goes on, and on, and on, until even the most stoic of Garou must wince. Drowning out even the most goldenthroated Galliard's warcry.
And then it snaps off. Silent.
(take a deep breath.)Decker, Garouspeech, quiet growls filling the void: "We fight only as long as we must, for the Theurges to find the Heart. Once they do: we cross. Form up. And fight to the last."
He sounds calm. Steady.
Resigned.The Sewer Gators are tense and agile and alert, their eyes bright, their tails lashing, their bodies stiff as stone.
The Garou are gathered, formed, ready. Ready.--
And then the flood begins.
--
Not from one source. No. From the full 180-degrees of view they had before them, the Dancers pour out of the alleys, the streets, come running in all their hideous, deformed, malformed, FUCKED UP glory.
The Symphony restarts and on its tail, the army of the Apocalypse.
(cinn)
*seeing Jim safely surrounded, looks to Nahi and nods her head to the side to Follow You to strengthen the protective circle around the Theurges*(jude/kris)
*Chuckeling on the rooftop* Ohh Raven am I going to have a story to tell you by the end of the night.(kemp)
Fur bristling, claws extended as he tenses. Somewhere between James and Decker in the line up. Oh this wasn't going to be pretty and then he was lunging into battle
with the first wave to hit them. He was taller in crinos, but not as tall as many. Hoping to use his smaller size to duck and gut. "Oh fuck me!"(ham/jim/serg)
Jim continues on sort of dazed moving of his own accord... no the accord of the fetish, so close so fucking close, gotta find it.Hamish moves with the theurges once again howling out the anthem of war to raise his voice to drown out the insidious howling of the dancers or at least soften it some.
Sergei bristles and his hand clentches on his sword, Ready, the first spiral to get even close to him would get his face slashed off with sword and claw, a snarl in hos throat and on his face.
(tucker/james)
The Fang Ahroun is ready to say the least, though it's not the same Fang Ahroun. Meet Gabriel Riley. Wyrm-Slayer. Father of the young man who's body he takes now. A deep booming voice sounds from within. "As many as you can, conserve your strength, they will try and out number you, do not let them live long enough." The snarling beast of a Fang moves forward with even greater strength than before.James back turned tot the theurges, continues to follow. His back pedal motion at the ready, if the spirals break the line, he'll try his damndest to give them a fight.
(caern)
It's like a dream. It's like Jim is going mad.Insanity might be like this. Or maybe just schizophrenia, when one can have auditory hallucinations. Voices that are not his own screaming through his head, darting before his eyes, filling his sight with colour.
Red, red, red. The only other colour is grey. There must be something in between.
Slowly but surely, however, he is being guided, stumbling across the uneven ground, stray machinery left to rot in the wind and the sun. If you look west, the sky is orange. No one is looking west, because all they care about is east. The caern is east. The lake is east. The fetish is calling.
(FreedomfreegoSTRAIGHT...forwardforwardforwardpleasepleaseplease...)
For the theurges and those protecting them, it's like following a blind man. Blind leading the blind. In this case, however, Jim has the only white cane. They're getting somewhere.
Maybe. They think. So long as they were right about the fetish. So long as there's no theurge somewhere chanting spirit spells and confusing the fetish. So long as this isn't all one great big elabourate hoax. These times are uncertain times. There's no chance however, for consideration. Behind them, the Spirals are flooding out in droves, screaming their chaos and driving their howls into their skulls.
Before them. Somewhere. Is the greatest prize of them all.
(Forwardforward,onesteptwostep,threestep,four... left...forwardforward...)
(nahi)
Nahimana stays with Jim, where he goes, she goes. She hads to protect him. Had to help him get to the caern.(ric/tris/minda)
(Cliona)
With the Theurges, the Spirit talkers, hearing the silence that grates on nerves severed by the previous symphony... but she moves. Flanking Sasha. The finder is protected, the key must be the same. Let’s the games begin... (to the music of the pitter patter (thudthudTHUD) of twisted misguided feet rushing toward them)(Tristan)
They. Are. Everywhere. Pouring from the cracks and walkways of the city, massive and slobbering single minded intent. He isn’t afriad to admit he’s about to piss his pants. But he’s here. Waiting...waiting...waiting....when close enough, all eyes on the waiting garou, closest is chosen. Bang. (7)(mina)
She can’t see him, but they’re all there. And gun in each hand – soon as they’re in range, let’s tickle them till claws can make them bleed. Simultanious fire. Bang Bang.(eyes)
Misunderstandings abound, it would seem, for she continues to follow the Theurges and Jim, not realizing that Yu Gan apparently wanted her at the front. She continues to howl, if only to drown out the howls of the Spirals behind her.(james)
.... it's a motherfucking spiral avalanche ....he doesn't have to acknowledge Decker's orders
there's something unspoken amongst his pack
there's something unspoken amonst all the Garou that will fight todaydeath or glory, it's just another story
on the front lines, beside his pack and the mountain of LeRoy and his frying pan, the Fostern fights for all he's worth
it's a dreadlocked blur of fists, claws, and swinging weapon(give me the strength to live through this night..... just to see her one last time..... or at least make my death a proud one)
(josephine/ana)
Floodtide, firestorm, and a thousand (it could be, it could be) writhing, gnashing, killkillkill bodies surge into the garou stronghold. [Not. So. Strong.] Maelstrom-slam. Jocelyn does not move forward, does not meet that onslaught, until the rest of the Silver Fang do - and at that point - claws will slash at the nearest and bristling teeth will maul and pierce. Her packmate, behind but in unison, would move as soon as she did - flanking and striking the Pagan-distracted spiral, unless engaged by another.(sasha)
Sasha is still on Jim's rear, sticking close by as she guards the medicine bag against her pelvis. Yellow eyes alert and searching, she growls out in frustration, demanding from the spirits as she howls out to them to know where the caern lies.(erik)
Erik smiles, lips drawn up over fangs. His eyes fill with hatred of the foe, and a burning certanty that if they can hold out long enough, sell their lived dear enough, they will take one staggering step, not backward, but forward in the war for Gaia the Mother.When they are twenty yards away he empties the clip of the desert eagle into their ranks. Bullets half of steel and half of spirit-fire, they make potent wounds.
At the very last second, the other hand, the fetish shotgun, explodes in a violent display. Rigged so both barrels can fire at the same time, two shells scream out, scattering widely, throwing up not just a net of lead pellets, but also a web of electricity that saps strength and causes muscle spasms (in those that don't already suffer from them). But this gun is also itself a fetish. It holds bound to it an angry Stormcrow. Erik goads it with gnosis, unleashing the Clap of Thunder it is capable of. Now they know, friend and foe alike, why Erik is the alpha. Can even Decker unleash that kind of fury? We will certainly see.
(yu et al)
Yu Gan:Invisabley Yu activates his fetish to double his speed.*Hyde:*With the Theurges he watches their butts and readys his talen*
Jaan: looks over the baddies and shrugs looking to brand*
"See you on the other side brother"Will: *Flys HIGHER*
(nelly)
She remained in hispos for the time. Head hanging low, white-blue eyes raised... her back to the theurges. She moved in reverse to stay near, but protect their flanks. A gutteral growl given as she listened thru the link for the thunderous hoves of Black Unicorn.(jude/kris)
*With his sharp eyes the dancers come within Krises Range quicker and he unleashes a lead storm on them*(cinn)
*fights things that slip past the better warriors, fights with the memories of what spirals did to her during a two week torture session almost a year ago to the day. She wouldnt be taken down again! She'd die first.*(barny/ras)
There is no telling. The thunder of gunshots from their ranks to soften up the oncoming horde of spirals. yet they just keep coming. So many.
[We have such sights to show you! So much flesh... So little time!]
Flash of some movie, of hooks tearing flesh. Then it is real all of a sudden. He is lunging into battle, fangs and claws tearing at flesh. Throwing himself forward onto an oncoming spiral, fangs sinking into throat, and then he is back at the line, turning, and jumping again. Hold. The. Line! Back and fourth, claws tearing into his hide, tearing furrows in his great shoulders, his back, yet there is no pain. Mother's gift shileding him from it. There is only the taste of twisted flesh, and foul blood in his mouth, on his claws.(keg/hal)
"Kegan stands and waits ready to rip out the eyes of the first spiral he can get"~Hal stands and waits as well not much he can do at the moment.~
(curata)
Curata stands behind Tristan towering over him and slicing through any spirals that breach close enough with a furious rage.(spider)
Like the many other Theurges, he followed closely on Jim's heels. Eyes shifted from the stumbling blind man, to the maddening army of Malfeas. As the cackles grow louder, Spider turns around fires into the swarming ranks. Hammer drives into bullet into air into hide and flesh. Crack Crack Crack. Turn, follow Jim, watch Sasha.(lex)
Here we go.
Always in the right place at the right time. Its odd actually, there is a strange distant haze in her eyes...oh shes there
With them. there
Front line, going into battle...right fucking there.::but she isnt::
As quick as the look fell over her, she seems to have lost it, eyes slowly returning to the regular icy gaze she has.For just a split second, only an instant she had pictured herself right there, in the thick of it.
[a split second]
should have been Garou the same thought that slipped into her mind before every battle...every fucking time.They were pouring out, like ants come running from the anthill...so many of them, and so few bullets...
make em count
Eyes move to Tristan and she actually chuckles.
"Don't miss"
Turning her direction back to the oncoming traffic of wyrmfucks that were approaching.Gun points and she shoots 2 shots.
(jude/kris)
*Jude stands there, still in his Crinos form slashing at any Dancer that comes near him*(cade)
He holds his shotgun straight out and when they near he lets loose a blast in time with the one from Erik. His shells are just steel though.(binary)
Night. Vision.Small bits of dust reflect - refract. Like snow against her green-scale vision. Tongue over teeth. She doesn't think about past, or the future, there is only one law that applies: Combat the Wyrm. And here there are, all posed and deadly almost beautiful - a fulfillment of every piece of rhhetoric and religion hre existance is wrapped around. Below her eyes, beneath her skin some spirit compels her [Spirit of the fray...] hungry, ready, anxious... salivating.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.Alternating hands, twinned guns, how long can three seconds last? Rage strains against her form teeth bare in a low-toned growl. [More. More. MOre.] This is what they were created for. Their EVERY reason is Now.
(jos/ana)
Anastasija and Katya flank their Alpha, the new moon's empty shells prompting the surge into crinos, the bristle of fur - the sudden crunch of knuckles and slice of claws at any spirals within reach. The half-moon is already there, blood a mere shallow seep, as her body braces for more pain, more force - and the satisfaction of flesh between teeth.Engage.
(b/b)
The line of Garou awaiting the onslaught does not surge forward to meet the Dancers. They hold their ground, their heels dug in, their teeth bared, their eyes bright.For though there may be pain;
for though there may be death.
In battle there is glory.
In glory there is joy.THIS is what they were born for.
And...
IMPACT.Things happen too fast to see. TOO fucking fast. There's no time to aim. No time to target. No time for anything but blind fury. Claws rake, teeth clamp down, guns go off, axes and swords swing. Body parts are lopped off. Bones are broken. Flesh is rended. Heads roll. There is a great din that comes up from both sides, a mingle of clashing snarling yelping howling crunching squishing thudding of meat on meat as the Crinos and Hispos collide. Those seeking the Caern, those protecting those who sought, must now steadfastly turn their back and ignore the sounds of their fellows fighting, suffering, dying.
[hold up while an obscene amount of dice is rolled.]
(b/b)
Front lines.No one gets away unscathed. That should go without saying. Some of them take flesh wounds, mere scratches. Others find their guts around their knees.
First to fall, the one who had (honorably, but certainly none too wisely) refused healing: Brand, the Fang Alpha [7agg]. Not dead (...couldn't be dead. Has a darker fate than that, right?). But close enough that perhaps not even his pack will tell the difference.
It's hell out here.
It's hell up front.Somewhere, someone belches out a great fireball of seething green. Someone screaming. Someone swinging a sword. Someone's arm flopping on the ground. They're slipping in blood. Slipping in entrails. The Dancers falling. Heaps of them. The Dancers still coming on, climbing ragtag scamperskitter over the bodies of their packmates, Hivemates.
The Dancers, still attacking.
[Everyone else: Kegan, 1. Kemp, 2. Jude, 4. Erik, 1. Yu Gan, 1. Curata, 4. Binary, 3. Josephina, 4. Jacelyn, 1. Ana, 2. Nelly, 2. Barny, 2. Cinnamon, 2. Leroy, 1. Sergei, 3. Cadeyrn, 3. James Branson, 1. Decker, 2. Bartol, 3. Jaan, 3. Tucker 4.]
Seeking the Caern's Heart
Away from the brunt of the onslaught, they have it a little easier. But not much. The front lines are outnumbered by the Dancers, and anyway the Dancers are more interested in the Caern. They surge against the front lines; some breach; some chase after the Theurges and their guards; some attack."HOLD THE LINE!" - the Modi, roaring command. There would be those who would try to race after the Theurges now, but if they broke, the tide would wash over them in its full might and devour their Theurges -- and the Caern.
But that leaves the Theurges vulnerable...
[James Vaughn - 2. Eyes of Medea - 1. Spider - 2. Ricinus - 2. Nahimana - 1. Sasha - 2. Hamish - 1. Jim - 2. Hyde - 2.]
Kin.
And the kin.Brave men and women. Way out of their league. Miraculously not yet dead. Tristan, sorely wounded, 4. Mina, barely scratched, perhaps escaping damage by merit of her smaller size. Compared to the Crinos all around, at least. 1. And Lexi, 2.
(yu et al)
Will:At about 2000 feet the raven tops out... then spirals back down to aboout 600, shifts to crinos and starts down... down down down down dwon
Flapping faster and faster and faster faster and faster. As the mass of battle becomes visable the corax's magnificent EYES pick out his target... a LITTLE Spiral in the back throwing rocks and shit over the heads of his buddies at the garou.
Suddenly the RIDE OF THE VALKRIES!! Is sung above.. FASTER!!!!!!!!!!! the last second the talons are extended!!! and the Corax crashes to earth ON the spiral, talons first. Crushing his own legs and form, but that's chrunchy damage... the spiral... got the claws!!*(kemp)
Snarling, teeth snapping, claws raking to get hold of anything he could and there was plenty to get hold of in the mess. His growls, yowls and yelps were lost in the mass of sound as the lines met. No time to think, no time to care. Just fight for all he was worth. Talk about nightmares.
(eyes)
The bow is dropped, the claws come out as she channels her Rage into moving faster, roaring a challenge to the one who dared to attack her. ~GS~ You killed him! I WILL SEE YOU IN HELL! She's got her back to Jim as she savagly attacks the Spiral who dared to get in the way of the grieving Fury.(barny/ras)
Blood and guts and glory and death. They fight, their backs against the water. Animals backed into a corner. And they howl defiance, tearing into the ever oncoming hordes of Spirals. Above, te mon drives the ahroun on. Rage spent, and rage regained. And the first of them falls. 'Hold the line' Comes the comand. And hold the line he does. Once, he was a riddle to the mother. But the razor has found its vein, the Knight's Templar has returned. And on and on it goes, claws and fang, the great hispo doesnt yeild, doesnt break. His will is in this battle, every ounce of strength, and each drop of protection his totem can offer up, the Child of Gaia goes on and on, tearing into the twisted spirals that doesnt seem to stop coming. They must not break!(cinn)
*Cinn pants, blood running across the blue of her fur, turning her a lurid purple stripped nightmare, one elbow hurt like hell to bend or straighting, she held it close to her side over a bleeding tear in the pelt over her ribs.*(yu et al)
Yu Gan: *Darting unseen he moves among the battle helping the stronger garou with their battles, unseen but his presence felt*Hyde: The massive Godi Ripps the arm from a crinos and has been using it as a club, RAR indeed!!!
Jaan: Steps over the body of his falen alpha and Suddenly shines like a becon, the lambiant flame coming to the for*
NO ONE TOUCHES HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Holding his ground over his alpha's body as he bleeds.
Will: just dive bombed.
(tucker/james v)
Gut shot, and it's bad. Gariel can feel his son's blood pouring from him even as it refreshes itself through Gaia's healing. He continues anyway, unwilling to let his son die without honor. Tuck is there too, riding the battle high, cognizant, though not fully in control of his own body. Both cry out from the pain in tandem as they continue to fight.James Vaughn, Corpoarte Wolf on the other hand. Is fighting for the life of the Theurges. He cannot turn and run, not that anyone else can either. He continues to fight, even as a particularly bad shot grazes his chest. His claws flail a bit toward the nearest Wyrm-wolf and screams with all his might. Trying not to sound afriad as he is.
If it's the end, they will both die well tonight.
(cade)
He has a breif respite when he brings down the spiral attacking him and he takes the flask that he was given and drinks it all down.The spirit tethered to the talen does it magic and courses through his body healing all of his wounds up in seconds, restoring him back to perfect health.
He lets out an ear piercing howl as he charges into the closest Spiral. His shotgun goes off less than a foot from the spiral and his claws rend him assunder.
A blur is not even close to the right word for Cadeyrn description on the battle field. More accurate would be a whirling devil as he blasts and slices his way around. Every blow seems to find its mark and he doesn't seem to be slowing down at all.
[1wp per turn/action? and some rage spent of course]
(keg/hal)
~Kegan snarls and attacks in a rage blur of combat slashing and biting anything and all Spirals he can~ (Rage 2 slash slash bite)~Hal attacks and slashes at any spiral that gets anywhere near him~
[INCOMPLETE - CnP ended with Wolf going offline, here's the rest: http://lessa.blackdays.net/exploits/index.php?p=261]Posted by Lessa at 11:03 AMMarch 26, 2004.03.26.04. - caernraising pt. 1 [vanguard] *wm[caernraising]
(vanguard/decker)
It's the night of the full moon.They had gathered in the abandoned subway station again, the Garou and their kin. Split into their respective groups, and split up.
Panning out to the perimeters and high up in the sky, the kinfolk and the scouts: The Ferrets, Will and Kris, Kadin, Kiril, Tristan and Mina.
Spearheading the movement toward the hidden Caern: Yu Gan, the Eagles, Curata, Kegan, Jude.
Holding the center: the theurges and the main strength of the Garou. Somewhere in the mass is their navigator, the quietspoken Bone Gnawer Ahroun Jim. Most do not even know his crucial role in this, as he communicates his thoughts to his alpha Yu Gan. If anything, one assumes Yu Gan is their guide - Uktena scout and tracker that he is. Also at the center, thrashing and utterly Wyld, four young Sewer Gator gorgons.
Best not to ask where they came from.
Best hope they stay on one side during the fight.And finally, guarding against a rear attack: the Fangs.
--
The vanguard moves aboveground, a loose group of men (garou) in Homid, perhaps mistakeable for a street gang on the prowl if not for the keen determination in their eyes. Watching their backs from above, fanning out to all sides ahead of them, the scouts.
The main approach and the rearguard follows through the sewers. In another part of the city, thanks to one Corax's mischief, zoo animals are running wild and car dealerships are burning. Police are on the scene. News crews are gobbling up the breaking events. No one pays attention to the Garou sludging through knee-high filth in echoing, cavernous tunnels that may well have lain undisturbed since the day they were built.
And all the while the pull of the caern through the Fetish grows stronger for Jim...
(yu gan)
Leading the way with the mentally relayed directions from the center. Yu Gan checks for traps or ambush as they go*(erik)
Erik spearheads the formation, a blury, indistinct form the the enemy is likley to pass up and die because of it. In one hand he holds the shotgun fetish, in the other a desert eagle pistol, loaded with fire. He watches Yu-Gan carefully, letting the scout do his job,.(kemp)
About all he could do was move along with his group, following. Warm enough he didn't need a heavy coat, which meant one less thing to ruin in this endeavor. Long scraggly hair blowing and lifting with the wind. Shoulders hunched with his hands in his pockets. All the while his gaze was darting all about.(jude)
*Moveing along with the group, fang dagger out and ready to use if it is needed, keeping an eye out for anything that may be happening*(decker)
Decker trudges at the rear of their loose formation, like this was another day on the Riverfront, like this was another walk through Skid Row. Head down. Shoulders squared. Thuggin' it along. No visible weaponry. Certainly no fangs and teeth.And every so often, he glances over his shoulder. Casual.
--
And in the Vanguard, it's still quiet. A blasted, shuddering short of silence. It's only 9pm. They're moving through the bad part of town, but even so, there should be some movement. Some sign of life.
There isn't.
This is the calm before the storm...
(curata)
A late arrival, and another last minute addtion. Ahroun by birth, the Fianna brings up the rear of the group, loose street clothes donned in all black.(keegan o'shawnahey)
~Kegan a last minute addition moves with the front line he is in a pair of jeans a white shirt and a denim jacket he stands an even six foot tall he moves quietly along keeping his ears peeled and his eyes sharp~(james)
Blood Eagle leads - Silence trudges at the rear - there are others scattered between
Jukebox finishes the triangledark eyes roaming on instinct
near-black pits framed by dreads
covering the direction he seems to know his packmates don't
one arm's stiff from the pipe hidden up his sleeve(erik)
He looks ahead, then left, right, leave the backtrail to Decker.(yu)
*At the front he keeps his ultra keen eyes and nose peeled for any hint of ambush or trap. His life since age 8 for this express purpose.*(decker)
The wind is howling.
(This is Chicago. The wind is always howling.)Yu Gan's directions -- which are really Jim's directions, but no one knows that for a reason -- are passed through signal and glance, doubtlessly. They've led the Vanguard steadily out of the city's heart, steadily out of the financial district and its towers.
Steadily toward the lakeshore where it gets colder and colder. Wetter and wetter.
They can't smell salt -- this is not an ocean, even though it seems as huge as one. They can't see the water yet, either, but they can see the buildings become lower and lower, the factories falling behind, the warehouses falling behind.
They were leaving downtown. Leaving the riverfront. Leaving the lands the Garou had roamed and claimed, and heading for the edge of the great water.
A putrid scent on the air. Was that..? --No. Just rotting fish.
Still quiet.
(kegan)
~Kegan quietly moves foward looking around and listening as well. He smells the air now theres a smell he has not missed from boston rotting fish.~(kemp)
Wolf he might be, sometimes, but he was still a city kid and now they were heading for the lake? Crap, they better not need to go swiming cause he was likely to sink like a rock if he didn't show off his prowess at swiming by doggie paddling.(curata)
Madoc didn't quite understand where they were going, but he follows. Quiet and somber, waiting for orders to be given. He was here for a purpose. To kill.(system)
to Yu Gan, ::Vanguard::, James: The joys of totem phone. Jim Larson doesn't even need to think solid thoughts to pass across what the fetish gives his way. the link simply must be open.easteasteasteasteast
It's like a pulse, a third heart beat.
Lub-dub, fullmoonrage and easteasteast...
The more they walk, the more his skin tingles. The farther east, the more it starts to feel like his nerves are on fire. Scalding and pricked, like boiling water was slowly replacing the blood in his veins.
(yu)
*Turning Yu Scents the air and leads them east*(decker)
They look almost calm.
They look steady. Solid.They eat up the ground with their loose, lean strides. Wolves in men's skins. Their hidden weapons. Their hidden claws and teeth.
But they are on edge.
Oh, they are on edge.A skitter of a newspaper across the street brings the Modi's grey eyes flashing to it. His rage spikes, its scent heavy on the air. Then subsides. He grunts. Calls quietly up.
"We close, Yu?"
(jude)
*Jude walks closer to Yu Gan, he watches his back very closely, Yu being one of the garou in this city that Jude not only likes but actually respects as well*(erik)
Erik watches to the west, opposite of their turn, while the Van files past. He then lengthens his stride, after a nod up to Decker, James and Kemp even, and catches back up with Yu.(yu)
*He pauses and tilts his head. Sending a query. He shakes his head a bit and a whisper escapes him* Close... ER.. * And he starts to move again.*(james)
the wind is howling
(that's the night calling to you, Jamey-boy)
the wolves are out
(think you'll live through the night and see your birthday next week?)no familiar trenchoat this time, the guttermutt's down to bare essentials
some surplus tan jacket over faded thermals all that keeps that wind out
too bad it doesn't do much to keep out the smell of rotting fish
even if your pack's lived in a Port or riverfront for the past year
sometimes it's more striking than normal....one little nugget of information filed away
(don't think about tomorrow, boyo)
James just keeps himself alert and ready to act
(you never know if it'll be there)
and strangely. deadly. silent.(yu)
*Whispered to their number* Skin.. tingeling.. priceling.. like it's on fire... intensifying as we move east... get ready....(kegan)
~Kegan looks around now getting ready oh biy is ready bring on the fight lets get it on bitches~(jude)
*Clutching his fang dagger under his jacket, ready for anything, whispering a question back to Yu* Spidy senses tingeling?(decker)
Close.
"Don't like it."He voices, low, the thought in all their heads.
"'S too fuckin' quiet."
They're leaving the last of the buildings behind. The ground is flat, flat, flat to the horizon. They can see the water now, dark in the distance. And the looming shapes of huge horselike dock cranes. The machinery of the docks and the ports, silent now in the few hours after closing time, and before reopening at the crack of dawn.
The freighter ships floating in the harbor. The waterbirds are sleeping.
Quiet. Quiet.
(kemp)
The whisper meant nothing to him. He gave a return nod to Erik and other than that, he was skittish as he could be. It was all he could do not to run his mouth so there was noise.(erik)
Erik was born ready, has spent his life becomming as ready as any garou ever was or could be. He's spent weeks preparing for this one night. He's ready. Oh fuck is he ready.(kegan)
~Damn does he hate it when its too quiet that never ever is a good thing. Well not so far in his life anyways~(digital voice - communicator units)
The comm flashes to life, Kirils voice.
"SPIRAL!!!"(curata)
Dark brows rose upward, looking towards those that spoke. A low growl rising up in the depths of his chest as he walks.(decker)
Decker grimaces at the sudden yell in his ear, one hand jerking up to the comm unit -- "Shit." To the others - "Spirals - " - and then to Kiril, "Where?"Where?
That STENCH again.
And oh no. It's not rotting fish.Yu Gan places it first.
It's rotting FLESH. Weeping open sores. The wind blows just right and suddenly they smell it everywhere, everywhere -- the scent of decay.And a cackling mad whining laugh on the air.
The lake is in sight. The scenery before them: an abandoned shipyard, the listing skeletons of ships hulking in the full moonlight. Ancient as the ruins of the roman coliseum. Creaking and groaning, some of them in water, half-sunken, some of them on the sandy beach; some of them on the cracked asphalt that paves the land near a shambling old hangar where the freighters had once been built, once, in the boom of Industry.
Those days are over.
These days are dark.
This shipyard is abandoned.And it's due east. Right where Yu Gan has been leading them.
It's gotta be it.
"Let's run, motherfuckers--" and the Modi breaks into a sprint toward the abandoned shipyard, like there was some sort of finish line to cross.
(digital voice)
Brand, snarling.
"Spiral activity. Keep alert. Let's pick up the pace."(jude)
*Looking back as Jude hears the word Spirals come out of Deckers mouth he pulls his dagger and runs as fast as his legs can carry him, and being a Strider that's pretty damn fast, in the direction that Decker is running*(yu)
*The Scout draws his katana and sets off into a Jog as to not leave the rest behind*(erik)
He doesn't even nod at Decker's command. He is already ruinning, senses keyed up. He speaks into the mike... "Van is moving East. Follow close. Double time."(digital voice)
Rasputin, one of the fang's, voice over the comm, sounding a little strange, a little distant.
"Umbra, dead and quiet."(kemp)
No weapon to worry about, so when Decker said run, the kid started running. He might not be very big, but he was fleet if nothing else. Muddy brown hair blowing back from his face with the speed of his run. Arms pumping as fast as he legs were.(kegan)
~He quickly takes off a running with the Modi he is running for that abandoned ship yard just waiting to be able to shift and start kicking asses~(dv)
Will's voice, comm.
"Spiral spotted. One of the Twins is down. Kin engaging units to the north east"(curata)
The command had been given and Madoc follows persuit, breaking off in a quick sprint, moving with surprising fleetness.(decker)
Runningrunningrunning -- the street falling behind them, leaping the fence into the barred off, closed, abandoned, wrecked shipyard - over the cracked asphalt, under the shadow of a great and rusting freighter --(Shit!) Simultaneously, Erik and Yu Gan realize there's a fucking problem.
It's an ambush.
Half a second to call warning to the rest catching up --(yu)
*Yu Gan's voice comes back over the com and to the Vanguard* Ambush. Engaging now!*then the scout shoots into the air. Shifting on the fly into crinos. His fetish launching him clear of the first slovo*
(jude)
*Hopping over the fence shortly after Yu Gan and Erik...to late*(decker)
Ambush.
Indeed.Suddenly there's onetwothreefour-- six, TEN, ten fucking Spirals pouring out of the cracks and the shadows. Two dive for the area Yu Gan had just been in. One is on Erik, and would be on the Rotagar's back if Erik hadn't seen it coming.
The other seven? They flex their claws, waiting for the rest of the vanguard to hit.
[Come on, pussies. Give us your best shot.]
Decker, steady and even and pissed off on the commset: "Yu thinks we found the place - but we got comp'ny."
Then he tears the comm set from his ear. Fucking thing was DISTRACTING him. Tosses it on the ground. Whoever wanted it could pick it up.
Him?
He was roaring into Crinos, the black axe flashing out of his arm and into being.
Let's rumble.
(erik)
Yu Gan does a fine and concise job on the comm, so Erik stays silent to keep chatter to a minimum. Then battle is joined. One spiral, is that all. He unloads a few rounds into it, rounds that cause wounds that won;t heal so fast, before going tooth and claw on its ass. Yes, suddenly he is in Crinos.(james)
let's run, motherfuckers
James waits - a length or two behind
he's always been the backup
at least they aren't leaping....ambush!
there's the sound of smooth metal sliding against calloused skin
the pipe slipping out of his sleeve to the call of gravity
railroad spike driven through one end glinting from oblique light
dreadlocks lengthen into shaggy Crinos coat
(rotting flesh, shiply graveyard, mad cackles..... who cares about the veil)
talons drag against a wall [razor] then James catches up to the restripping into the first thing he comes across
(jude)
*Seeing the two Spirals go after Yu Gan Jude shifts into Crinos form, the hulking mass that resembles the Egyptian god Anubis, with fang dagger in hand he lunges twards one of the two*(kegan)
~Kegan was in the midst of shifting as the now nine foot red and white crinso stumbles into combat with the first spiral he finds Kegan is swaying as if he were pissed off his tree he stumbles a step or two from side to side as he faces off with a spiral~ Come on you.. bitch ~His words slurred a bit~(system)
Umbral drumming. It suddenly breaks across the com system.Interference. Static.
Then dead.
They're cut off.
(curata)
There was no telling this Scotsman what to do.. even as the others started to shift upward. Like a chain reaction, Madoc is bursting into Crinos, massive and dark grey furred with white undermarkings...(yu)
*Yu Gan comes down beside the strider. His katana wheilded by crinos strength, aided by gravity, aimed at the second BSDs neck(decker)
For the first few seconds, it's total chaos.In the shifting shadows and moonlight nothing's quite clear. There's snarling. Growling. Static -- the comm units dead. And more snarling. More growling. Fists and fangs flashing. Blood spilling.
Pain, destruction, death.
The first seconds are over and three Dancers lie dead. Shredded, some decapitated. Who the fuck knows who killed them. Some of the Gaians are bleeding already. Erik, from a claw to the (you guess it) face. Yu Gan, from a bite to the shoulder. Decker, a long scratch on his hide. Kemp, a chunk taken out of his arm. [1 damage each to the above.]Then a moment as the two sides size each other up.
"FORM UP!" That's the Modi roaring battle orders to his pack. They're only facing seven Spirals now (haha. that's it? what a joke.) - and one them, their leader, a twisted thing with a second, parasitic, siamese head stuck to his first, cackles his hyena laugh. Spits something unbelievably obscene, Garouspeech, not words but impressions, filthy emotions.
(yu)
*Shifting on the Blurr of the milky eye, Yu Gan forms up on the Ahroun. Ready to flank if given the order. Decker knows his speed*(( BLUR OF MILKY EYE))
(kegan)
~Kegan stumbles over to Decker and all in all to those watching Kegan appears to be totally drunk even as he stands still he is gently swaying side to side even his eyes look a little droopy if he is prepared for an attack is anyones guess~(kemp)
He was panting and bleeding, though already his body was working to seal the wound to his arm. Then there was that thing with the two heads and he couldn't help it. His mouth shot off even as he moved to get back to back with James in formation. "What the fuck? Which one of you has the brain, you or your ugly brother the dummy stuck to your ass? Oh wait, is that your face?" Everything more or less growls in garou, but he was getting his point across with gestures that went along the lines of jerking off and blow me at the sametime. Taunting, he couldn't help it, it just came natural-like.(jude)
*Even though he's not really part of the pack Jude forms up on the pack oposite side of Yu, Jude being the other one with speed and knowing that unity is necicary now*(erik)
Erik stands tall with Decker, blood dripping down his face from some superficial wound he doesn't even feel. He looks the alpha spiral, the one that looks like the alpha, right in the eye, and unleashes a predatory snarl that has cowed much greater foes than that pathetic thing. (Snarl of the Predator)(curata)
Salmon's Leap activate, Curata breezed over the fence in a swift leap, coming down with claws ready to strike. He moves forward to engage one of the spirals..(james)
there's blood and bodies on the ground
it's dripping off the Garou
it's dripping off the end of the Gnawer's spiked pipe
it's dripping off the tips of all their clawsnot too shabby, so far
formed up with the rest
standing as a proud, deadly, and unified front
James locks his gaze on those they face
[Staredown]
a lopsided grin creeping over his scarred muzzleyeh.... bring it
(jude)
*Getting himself in the killing mindframe Jude starts to quietly sing to himself, it's odd but it's his way of doing it...kinda top gun like, he's singing the song bodies, how appropriate*(decker)
Form up. Form up.
This might be the only time all night they actually have TIME to form up.And form they do - well. Most of them. Kegan. Kemp. Jude. Erik. James. Decker. Lars. Tucker. ((took the liberty of putting you in there, tuck))
They didn't think to one another.
They didn't have to.
Simultaneously, Erik snarls, James stares, Decker shows his teeth.Three different foes hit. Never underestimate the power of intimidation.
And then, as Curata streaks past them, Decker gives a short, sharp bark and plunges forward. Won't let the man face the enemy alone, now will we?
Grim: Th' Alpha first.
[BSDs #1-7; #1 is the Alpha, the one with the siamese head. Pick a number and tell me who you're hitting.]
(jude 5, curata 1)
(tucker)
The Street-King remains silent, forming up when told, his breath isn't heavy, nor is it shallow. It just, is. The combat high is exilerating.The order comes and Tuck flies in for the one who defers only to the other, with a siamese head. Taking as many clawed shats as possible for it's chest, looking for a heart in the ribcage.
((#2 the beta, spending three rage and clawing the fuck out of it.))
(yu teaming up with jude against 5)
(kegan)
~Kegan stumbles foward to the first spiral he can (number 3) andhis hand snaps up and his claws slash into its throat trying to rip it out~ (Using a rage so slash with one hand then the other)(curata)
(Hitting #1-the Alpha. Spending 2 Rage: bite, claw)Teeth and claws barred as Curata streaked by Decker. He's moving towards the ugliest one of the bunch, the Alpha, rage fueling his attacks.
(kemp)
He was still running his mouth, even as Decker's words came cross to him. Close to James, stuck like stink to a skunk. "You smell like your momma! Stink!" And then he was rushing claw and tooth into battle. Going right for #4.(erik)
Erik thinks, just for a second, of letting a blast from his shotgun fetish off, even though it would hit Curata as well. That would teach im. But this isn't the time. He lunges with the fianna, taking down the ahroun. (split for 2 attacks.) And Erik attacks with unimaginable strength that none outside of the Eagles could hope to match. (#1)
(shoot. I meand spend 1 rage for 2 attacks. still playin exalted ;)(james)
Eagle pack works as a fine (if ugly) machine
first strike : intimidation
second strike: hell's furyJames takes the last direction from the others and barrels into a Spiral
nothing but the sound of pipe and claw hitting flesh(#7, 1 rage, using claws w/ pipe follow through)
(jude)
((Damn, didn't know we where posting what we where doing to them too))
*Jude looks at the ugly mofo and gives him a cocky grin (Spending 2 Rage) Sitting there with his dagger in hand Jude dose a distracting flip back and forth along his hand to get the Dancer looking at it than he palmstrikes him with the other hand, than he slices at him with the knife and stabs at him with a heavy thrust*(yu)
*Yu mearly slips around the one Jude's bouncing aound with and with a slice of mighty arm and blade goes for the back of it's neck*(decker)
And it's like oceans crashing together.Quickest, Curata, going for first strike on the Alpha BSD. He gets it, and it's a good one, damn good. Curata feels bones crack under his claws. But he also gets, for his troubles, a claw plunged neatly into his navel and slitting right up to his diaphragm [4agg]. The two leering deformed faces cackle fetid breath in his face. The thing's UGLY. UGLY. UGLY.
But it's a damn good fighter, too.
It doesn't cackle for long, though. Decker and Erik breach around Curata, one on either side. The axe flashes. Claws flash. BSD #1: fuckin' ribbons, motherfucker.
Meanwhile, Jude and Yu Gan attack at seeming random, one from before and one from behind, converging in on #5. His fellows on either side come to his defense, not fast enough -- #5 dies, but #4 sinks fangs into Jude's shoulder and refuses to let go [3agg]. #3 seems to be having trouble hitting Yu Gan, though. The fucking Uktena was BLURRED. And then Kegan hits him from behind and he turns, snarling, to take on this new foe.
Back to the Eagles: James splitting off to the side, claws raking down #7's chest, a pipe smash to the head sending the Dancer down dazed, but definitely not dead. Teeth snap. James' achilles tendon on the right foot, also snaps. [2agg, limping]
Kemp and Lars smash into #4 together, heaping onto his back. Their claws and teeth tear into the thing, but it just. won't. let. go. of Jude.
In fact.
An inch from death.
And almost certainly dead in 10 seconds.
It's fucking laughing through its deathgrip bite, its beady eyes glistening with manic humor.(OK, good to go. next round! repost if you already did, cuz it got scrolled off. BSDs #2,3,6,7 are still alive. so's 4, but not for long - lars and kemp are on him and he's almost dead. he's also still chewing jude.
once again, tell me which one you're attacking.)
(yu)
*Around #3 an inky cloud forms. ANd into that inky viscus tarry cloud, the already invisable uktena spins, going for yet another slice from behind. his speed simply mind numbing.*(one rage for extra action)
(kemp)
Growling, using all he had in strength to tear at the fucker chewing on Jude. Claws tearing at the neck of the thing to try and take the head off. It might still be bitting the guy, but at least the head wouldn't be attached to the body.(jude)
(#4) *Howeling with pain Jude looks down at the Dancer, in Garou speech* You think your fuckin funny don't you?
*Jamming the Dagger right into the Dancers skull, just enough to slam it into his brain and not pierce his own arm* Laugh that off jackass!(tucker)
It's not dead. The Street-King snarls at his foe. Clawing again twice at it's chest, Staring into it with a purity it's breed can not afford, trying to cow it if he cannot kill the blasphemous wyrm-thing before him.(1 Rage, attacking #2 twice, claws))
(erik)
Erik peels off from the dead alpha in the opposite direction of Decker. A momentary lapse in danger, a few paltry feet of personal space left vacant allows him to blast another three rounds into another twisted spiral. This buys him a moment to activate the Wyrmscale. (#6)(curata)
Curata gags on the putrid breath of the Alpha, growling out at them before its demolished by the Fenrir flanking him. He staggers back, the wound burning through his muscled torso as white fur now stains with blood. However, there is no pain to feel. Thank God, brother Bear!! Massive head swivels around to see what still stands, bounding away with the energy of a Salmon, fueld by the gift still, the springy Fianna is charging onward towards another foe, moving forward with his fleetness to aid James in the take down of another spiral.(Attack #7- One Rage: Bite)
(james)
motherfucker
probably the first sound out of James all night is the snarling yelp
one gift the Gnawer hasn't learned yet is anything related to resisting pain
and that sumbitch's teeth hurtthe metal pipe smashes into the Spiral's skull
(where'd you think he got his deed name?)
claws sink into tainted flesh and pry the fucker away
(getitoffgetifoffgetitoff)
leveraging with all of Eagle's granted might(stiiiiiill dealing with #7)
(kegan)
~Kegan quickly tries to rip open the Spirals chest with his next claw attack (6)
(decker)
Kemp's right.The head isn't attached to the body anymore, not after the latest strike. Still, still, the thing is slobbering and chewing [2agg more], and only when Jude slams his dagger home does the manic light in its glaring, bulging eyes finally flicker ... and fade.
Meanwhile, around Yu Gan, there is darkness. Unfortunately, it's darkness only he can see through. The katana whistles through the air and slashes the Dancer(#3) across the back; but the thing is strong, solid, and far from dead. It lashes out blindly with its claws - catches Tucker [1agg] in a glancing blow. Tucker, meanwhile, has been at work on the beta-Spiral, but now finds himself lost in darkness he cannot see through. That's no problem. He can feel, and his handpaw is clutching the mane of the Spiral. He can feel it squirming. The mane itself, not the Spiral. The mane itself is squirming, slippery, oozing -- a breeding ground of maggots and worms.
Kegan is at the edge of the inky cloud. He attacks the sixth Spiral, but the monster is huge, much larger than all the Gaians, much larger than even his brethren. His skin is thick and warty, and when Kegan strikes him, he can't seem to break through.
Erik blasts into the same Spiral, from behind. The bullets pock the skin and thick fluid that isn't blood oozes out. But the spiral (#6) seems barely wounded, and now, lumbering, turns about to thud towards Erik. Decker is at his Alpha's side.
He's uglier'n you, Erik, the totemphone jokes, grimly.
Curata - brave Fianna, direly wounded but undeterred - leaps to James' aid. Between the two of them, the Spiral (#7)'s skull is smashed, its spine dislocated, its flesh torn and destroyed. Quite dead.
(2 is badly wounded, but now invisible in the cloud. Tucker's on him. 3 is slightly wounded, in the cloud - only Yu Gan can see him. 6 is the huge one lumbering toward erik and decker. all the others are dead.)
(yu)
*Yu spins. the katana going back into his body mysticly and POUNCES #2 from behind in the cloud. Then like a light. The cloud flickers away, leaving #3 spiral seen to all*(kegan)
~Kegan quickly moves to get the big ugly bastard he goes to punch him but he is not hitting to do damage he is using Gaias gift of falling touch to knock down the brute and hopefully the others can use the fall as a prone attack~ ((6))(tucker)
He can't see. In the high tongue he calls out with the Fury of all of his breeding. "Where'd the fucking lights go!?" No matter. He lurches forward. trying to get a lock with his jaws on the creature.((No Rage. Bite at #2 will try and lock onto him, if not kill him.))
(decker)
(tacks this on--) Good idea, Kegan. The big ugly bastard goes down hard, and the ground SHAKES under him. Decker jumps on it immediately. "DOGPILE!"Literally.
(kemp)
Well he couldn't let his pack face the big ugly one without him. "Yo, ugly fucker!" And he was running to launch himself tooth and nail at #6, trying to get a good chunk out of him if nothing else.(erik)
Totem phone: The fuck he is!Erik and Decker square off against the brute. Erik circles away from his packmate, stowing the desert eagle and placing the brute between them. These two don't even need the totem bond to know the exact moment to leap, one high, one low. (2 rage, claw, claw, dodge)
(jude)
*Deciding that he's not getting caught IN the dogpile Jude decides to use the gift create flame and creates a fire UNDER the now fallen Dancer ((#6))(james)
the Gnawer snorts
whether it's an acknowledgement of Curata's help
or a misplaced amusement at Decker's totemphoned quip
it's up to others to decidelimping heavily on that mangled right ankle
he's clambering up with devastating determination
(never. abandon. pack.)
and launching towards the ongoing attackdogpile it is
(curata)
Blood stains his fur, some of it his, more of it, the Spiral's He gives James a quick bob of his head, turning his eyes upon the growing dogpile. He doesn't join it, however, turning his attentions elsewhere across the area to scan for more trouble.(decker)
Tucker gets a jawlock on the Beta (#2). He also gets a mouthful of squirming invertebrate life. Bleechh. But no time for that now. Suddenly the weight shifts in the darkness - Yu Gan is on board. Between them, Maggothair collapses.Then CLICK, lights back on. #3 revealed, blinking. Even the light of distant streetlamps and the moon seems bright after the total darkness of Yu's Shroud. It's almost comic, the way the Dancer paws at his eyes.
It's not comic at all when he dives at Kegan, landing on his back with all four claws rending [back attack, 5 agg.]
Everyone else? Dogpiles. #6 is big. He's tough. He's bigger and tougher than most of them will ever be. The Father is Great. The Father is Strong. The Father is Powerful.
But the Father can't protect him when four raging Eagles descend at once. In seconds, the mountain of tough-as-sinew flesh quivers, jerks once, goes still.
Six down. Only #3's left now.
And in the distance, they can hear the clamoring growls and howls of their fellows. The center is at last catching up...and with it, the Theurges.
It hasn't been so bad.
It's almost been... easy.(kegan)
~He lets out a scream of pain as his back is ripped open and flies off a blurr of snapping and clawing~ ((2 rage turn on resist pain, then claw claw (3) ))(tucker)
Turning he spits a mouthfull of maggot-fur into three's face as he leaps at the last of the spirals. [Not enought it's a fucking.....] "Watch for an AMBUSH!" He screams as claws dig into the the third dancer from the end of silver lined tree trunk arms.(spending 1 Rage, two claw attacks, #3)
(kemp)
Doing a dance in blood and guts on his way out of the tangle of dead #6 and his packmates. A quick look around, wolfish head swinging back and forth. Blood matting fur and muzzle. Claws dripping goo. Ears twitching with the distance howls. Too easy. Sending the thought across the link. It was never easy, besides, he was still alive. That meant something really bad was coming.(jude)
*Looking around* That was too damn easy...it ain't over *Walking over to #4 and ripping two of his fangs out* Trophy's.(yu)
*As Tucker leaps away Yu makes sure this one's well and truly dead.*(rick: to James: Fancy a little crazy misdirection? Say a couple of us with wyrmscales run ahead, pretend to be Dancers, and try and divey some of the approaching bad guys?? )
(blood eagle)
Things look well enough in hand here, so some quick talk over the totem link and Erik has a plan. He spills it. "James'n I is goin to meet da wyrm. We'll try n turn 'em, make 'em tink ya went another way."(decker)
Too easy.
Too easy.Decker - no, in this form, we call him Silence - nods once to Kemp, pale gray eyes narrowed and untrusting.
"Too easy," he voices aloud.
While Kegan and Tucker take down the last of the Spirals, he looks over his party and assesses damage. Jude, Kegan and Curata worst off. Bloody Bandages activated and tossed to them -
At Tucker's hair-raising cry, Silence winces and gestures for him to hold his tongue.
And then there is...
quiet. Again.(jude)
*Catching the Bloody Bandage and placeing it on my arm, feeling a slight bit of relief from it*(decker)
Silence pivots to face the Blood Eagle, his digitigrade stance oddly almost-graceful. Wolfishly light on his feet."Meet the Wyrm? Where?"
No accent in this form.(curata)
~GS~Thanks, mate.Words rumbled out to Decker with a sharp nod. He catches the bloody bandage to place over the gaping wound that sliced up his torso, healing up completely. The bandage tossed aside, revitalized and ready for the next round. Curata awaits, looking at the Eagles for direction.
(tucker)
He's been taking orders from the Modi long enough. Pack or not, it's the Garou he respects more than any other. Standing, heaving over the body of the last Spiral he nods, then looks about. "There are more Silence-rhya. Kemp is right, far too easy."Voice ringing with a newfound honor, no longer the mewling junkie. He knows his place, and he's keeping to it.
(kegan)
~He pushes the bandage onto his back and he groans as it heals a bit but not all but he is grateful for it but he listens quietly for any more signs of trouble~(erik)
"There'll be more." Almost submissive to the Ahroun. surley not dominante. This is Decker's call.(james)
the Gnawer chuffs another grunt
the all. too. quiet. moment taken for what it provides
a time to catch his breath
a time to use what's left of the shredded tan jacket as a wrap for his ankle
skin's shredded and tendon fucked
but he'll make due
least he can still limp on it
velvet ear flickering to listen to his two packmatesthey're all Fosterns
but they still outrank him in his eyes
he'll follow their lead(decker)
"They will come to us soon enough." He moves his head, his muzzle pointing out the lay of the land.The rickety old hulls. The tilting, groaning docks. The rot, the rust, the desolation, the decay of this place. "What they want is here. This is defense, not a hunt.
"We stay together, Blood-Eagle."
(kemp)
Nearly jumping around with trying to watch all directions at once. Waiting for Yu Gun to point a direction again, or worse yet, something to either freakin come out of the ground and eat them all or drop on their damned heads. Fur bristling, eyes a golden green in the dark, reflecting what little light there was here.(yu)
YU GAN:The theurges arrive... * his voice disembodied among the Vanguard*
[CONT NEXT FILE]
Posted by james at 12:00 AMMarch 24, 2004.03.23.04. - balance [sasha][chicago general room]
(james)
it's cloudy tonight
the sliver of a lunar smile is shadowed by random fits of grey
some hesitant midway point between midnight's grip and the smile's glint of silverit speaks of enigmatic balance
the yin and yang convergence in synchronicity of color
dark and light muddled to a delicate accord of hues
in the abyssmal depths, monsters lurk in hungry wait
held at bay by the strength of faith's brilliant sheen
and there is some poor sot of an Ahroun caught inbetweenthe very legacy of his stature speaks of balance
perched between earth and sky on the back of a park bench
boots triangulated to support his weight across the chiseled and marked seat
his pelvis set at some semi-comfortable angle on the top of the backrest
long lines of his spine curving to the slouched set of shoulders
elbows dropping in some sovereign severence to elbows digging into knees
the billowing tails of patchwork trench work in league with the wind
flapping amorously in treasonous tease to yank him back towards the ground
or spread as Eagle's great wings to carry him to the endless skythat's where his eyes are
deep umber raised to chase the moon between the stars
gazing quietly from within the frame of loosely tied dreads(sasha)
The night seemed to stretch on forever, slipping from the shadows as the gorgeous Coggie descended from some cautious journey through the Umbralscape. The quivering questing stone brought Sasha full circle to the sidewalk, tilting in the direction of the gutter prince that she sought out.Boots resonate over the cement in a quick feline gait, announcing her presence to the Gnawer as she approached his sprawled form. Denim jacket and jeans clothed luscious curves, a fishnet shirt the only thing that clings to the large swells of feminine softness. The scent of wild honeysuckles, damp earth and smoke, clung to her body. A medicine bag stretches across her chest, banging against her left hip.
(james)
boots resonate over the cement in a quick feline gait
in his mind, James turns it into a percussionist's habitual rhythm
perhaps toying with a guess as to whom this particular beat belongs to
he can recognize the footsteps of his pack and various others
but this one he can't place - not yet anywaylungs compress and blow plume of coiling smoke into the chilly air
while the night may be comfortably above freezing
the moist warmth still fogs as temperatures clash
sketching some temporary pattern across the small park's absent horizon
marring the image that presents itself in the Coggie's supple approach
allowing the scents to hit him first, even though he turns his head
breezy gift to animal senseshoneysuckle
damp earth
smokea lopsided grin of familiarity almost presents itself across his lips
but it's nothing more than a tug of features to one side
informality of recognition(sasha)
Bright pale blue eyes sparkle with from the recognition as the Gnawer turns his head. The feline gait quickens a step or so more, urgency, seeming to flow through the Coggie's body language. Slender fingers of her left hand curl around the vibrating stone, pulling it into the front pocket of her jeans. The other hand falls to the medicine bag, swinging it around to rest against her pelvis, pressing a protective hand over it.The cargo inside was a bit precious and she didn't want it broken. Boots ate ground quickly, Sasha came upon him, sidling up behind the bench. Her chest begins to rise in quick pants, heart thrumming with the pulse of adrenaline in her veins.
"I'm so glad I found ya, shugah." She breathes out in a husky rasp. Pausing at the bench, before slipping around it and flopping down unceremoniously next to him.
(james)
the eyes of any mortal man would wander - presented with such a sight
exertion's quick pants heaving a chest who's fishnet covering leaves little to the imagination
incent coils of honeysuckle sweet subtle and strong enough to weave themselves into a soul.....James - either unfortunately or luckily - is no mere mortal man
and his gaze just drops away as she invites herself onto his bench
returning visual escapades to wander across the darkened landscape of the park
heavy dreads sliding over muscular shoulder in now to gravity's call"Yeh?"
he can smell the pheronome urgency
the spike of adrenaline beneath her husky, bodily perfume
and admittedly it does perk his curiosity
though all the Gnawer offers is Camel pack and battered Zippo(sasha)
The lush line of her lips pull back into a small smile for the Gnawer. She lifts up a hand, shaking her head. "No, t'anks, shugah, I don't smoke." she speaks in another rush of breathless words. Chest continuing to rise and fall quickly. She straightens up, pulling the medicine bag into her lap now, looking over at James. "I know t'is must seem strange, but I wasn't sure I was goin' to see ya before de battle. I've got a present for ya and de eagles."(james)
chin tips towards the slopes and planes of a chest hidden beneath thermals
offering tucked away in one of the many pockets of his trench
the act was a progression of mere ritual
the Hood always sharing whatever he has"Been ou' 'ere c'llectin'."
his own mostly finished cigarette waved towards the empty park to punctuate the phrase
scissored between two long fingers calloused by the Ahroun's methods of business and pleasure
flag of smoke flickering in the gesture before disappearing on the night's breeze
as permanent as the logic of his pseudo-explanation may seem to her
perhaps he may need no further clarification, knowing he speaks to a Theurgethere's a stern set about his features
once, long ago, they may have been considered soft, young, even inviting
but the lines about his mouth and set of his brow have hardened
and with the battle in question only a few dawns away
it seems the Urrah Gnawer had some preparations of his own to go through
body and weapons were easy enough to hone to perfection
it seems questions of mind, spirit and soul have him in the park tonight
quietly thinking beneath the light of a slivered moon"W'cha got f'r 's?"
give him credit: at least he's trying for civil conversation
given the gravity of the situation they were last in together.... especially concerning gifts....(sasha)
She remembers the last time they were together and the gifts that had been presented to James. She was not pleased by such an act. It was strange the way she acted, perhaps, she sympathized with James for the loss of a loved one, especially, one that was Garou. Funny how you could find similiarities between two strangers that barely knew each other.For the hurt that Sasha presumes Tucker caused James, she had clawed Tucker across the face for it in punishment. Her words were not nice for the brattish Fang.
Pink tongue darts out to wet her lips, nostrils flaring out, breathing in deep intakes of air as she starts to calm down. Her heart continues to thrum wildly, like the passionate hoofbeats of Unicorn, her tribal totem. Where the Hood provided for others, so did the Children of Unicorn.
Her chin dip down, looking at the medicine bag. Pitch-black tendrils fall forward to brush acrosst the flawless creamy complexion of her cheeks. Nimbly, fingers open the latch, flipping the flap back to dip her left hand inside.
She finds the small vial of inky-black liquid, cork lids wrapped in leather cord to keep them attatched until the time came to use them. She pulls out six of these small vials, holding up her hand to James. Fingers uncurl to expose them to him.
"Nightshade talens. I made'em a bunch of'em and I wanted to give'em to ya, shugah. I hope t'ey'll come in handy. T'ey'll allow ya to appear invsible in shadows. If'n ya can't use'em keep'em."
(james)
a brow most certainly lifts
(....aroo?)
Nightshade talens?
that's a new one for the Fosternthe Camel is clenched between straight, white teeth
orange filter denting so precisely
his head tilts to an angle which keeps smoke out of his eyes
and a hand reaches to push away the dreads that invited themselves into his view
studying the vials carefully taken from the Coggie
listening to them clink softly together in settling across his calloused palms"Thank'." murmured. genuine. far cry from the last gift exchange they both witnessed, isn't it... "How d'they w'rk?"
deep umber flickers breifly away from the vials at the question, it may seem obvious, but far be it from James to leave things up to interpretation and find someone using it wrong in a time of need - not to mention the Frankenweiler-instilled thirst for knowledge just got sent into overdrive
(sasha)
"De talen is distilled from the essence of night. When quaffed, a fluid ounce in each vial, will turn the imbiber's body into shadow, renderin' ya virtually invisible in darkness. Effects only last for an hour, I'm afraid, but it's something. Anybody tryin' to find ya would have to be actively searchin' for ya, James." she explains, turning to face him on the bench. She tilts her head to the side, drawing her hand away after giving him the vials to let it fall into her lap.(james)
contrary to popular reputation of the certain Auspice
this Full Moon seriously listens
learning everything he can in what the Theurge has to offer
this is her territory, allright, and he's bowing down to that knowledgeessence of the night, virtually invisable.... well fancy that
James is, for lack of a better explanation, quite impressed
veteran warrior or not - he's not blinded by pride or disregarding the magnitude Friday will bring"Thank' Sassssh." still having trouble with that name, lips turning into a breif frown at the exaggerration the spelling inflicts on his slur "'preciate an'thin' y' off'r a hel'."
(sasha)
"Yar welcome, James, I'm glad to help de Eagles in any way I can." She doesn't seem to mind the exaggeration of her name at all.Hell, Kemp was calling her sashay the first night she met him. A small sense of pride swells up in the Coggie's chest, feeling proud that she has actually impressed him.
Her head turns away, looking out over the area, slowly, it falls back to stare up at the crescent moon. Her moon. Luna's cheshire grin. "How much do ya know about what's goin' down on Friday?"
(james)
James would be lucky to get "sashay" out of his mouth
going to have to work on coming up with another name for the Theurge
with her question posed, he allows a silence to fall over thought
carefully putting the vials away into a pocket safest
the Camel flicked away before another appears to take its place
lungful of smoke offered to the night's crisp air"Na'much. Been gone." down too long in Erik's midnight sea, eh, Jamey-boy? "Jus' know w're goin' in fron'line.... fightin'."
(sasha)
Her voice drops into the soft, honeyed lull of whiskey-sweetness, tilting her head closer to James' face to catch his ear."Meskhenet came back from de mission she was sent on to speak to Pure Ones. We've got back de key t'at'll allow us to build a new home."
Her words meant for his ears only, as her hands fall to the medicine bag protectively. "More like I guard de fetish and get to be de one to raise it."
(james)
once more, his chin drops towards his chest
the movement is at an angle now
considering he's leaned in to catch her whispered words
(admit it, Jamey-boy, not all that bad of an experience, is it... been awhile....)
lower lip pressed against upper teeth in thought
(.... just thought?)
exhale shot from the side of his mouth and away from the air she'd breath"Mean'n' we sen' in fron' guar' a make sure y' get wh're y' need a go."
doesn't seem to surprise the Ahroun
wouldn't be the first time
(sasha)
Slowly, her body pivots towards him, one leg draws up, brushing her knee against his outer thight, curling that leg on the benchseat. Her arm lifts up to drape over the back of the bench. The motion allows her to be closer to him. The sweet honeysuckle scent stronger with her closeness.Chin dips in a slight nod of her head, "I imagine so. I've experienced caern raisin's before, but never to de extent of raisin' it mahself."
A thought weighs across her mind, "Ya t'ink t'ey know? T'is pyrell y'all were havin' problems with, James?" a sense of worry in her vocal pattern, drawing pretty features into a frown.
(james)
the Ahroun's lungs fill again
not with smoke this time
just with a breath of the night's air
drawing from it the cleansing scents of Spring
and a more than healthy dose of what lingers around Sasha
(get a hold of yourself, Jamey-boy)he had intended the action to set the stage for a series of thoughts
apparently, what happened conforms to otherwise
so instead his head shakes
heavy dreads rearranging themselves across his shoulders"Nev'r 'perience' none a this b'fore." destroying a Caern, raising a Caern.... James keeps even visiting a Caern to only those situations of importance, the murmured and slurred admission rides on the waves of a more concrete shrug "D'no..... Er'k 'r Deck'r'd know more 'bout tha' th'n me. B'n gone 'while."
funny these unknown similarities between two strangers that hardly know each other
paving the way for one to speak so freely to the other(sasha)
Funny indeed the unknown similarities between two strangers that knew very little about each other. It is apparent Sasha is comfortable in his presence, perhaps, a little too at ease. The subtle flirteous nature of the Coggie ebbing out in her demeanor now. Her knee touching his thigh. Arm extended along the back of the bench, as her hand caught up a few of the long dreads that rearrange across his shoulders with a headshake."Hmm," she speaks after a moment of silence, "I never had de pleasure of meetin' Erik, one on one. I saw him at de Gnawer gatherin' and t'at was it. Decker I know a bit more better. Tristan and Kemp more intimately, as friends." a smile reflected warm affections for the kinfolk and young Fenrir.
"Gah, t'is is gonna turn into a big slaughter. I just know it. Wish I'd never left Manhattan." she murmurs absently.
(james)
through the single layer of secondhand BDUs, he can feel the warmth of her knee against his thigh
the tender nerves on the back of his neck ripple in reaction to the distant tug on long dreads
he could, easily, shift away and play it off to natural movement
the surge of pre-battle jitters coursing through his muscular frame
energy simply waiting for explosive release in the face of dire enemies
something far less overtly insulting than whatever would translate into ... hey woman, I'm mated for Gaia's sakebut he doesn't move away
maybe it's the Gnawer aching for the all-important contact with another living being
maybe it's the beast relaxing in a presence that is, for once, non-Fenrir
maybe it's.... something else entirely
whatever it is, he only shifts enough to flick the logging ashes off his smoke
a change in him - relaxed and warm - at the mention of the kin and Cliath
James shares the affection she shows towards them
but the only verbal acknowledgement is a chuffed snort"Alway' duz." spoken as a true Warrior of Gaia's chosen: death or glory, it's just another story.... written in the blood of those that fell, he never knows if he's going to see the next dawn, and doesn't seem to think about it much, either.... but at the latter, his head tilts, glancing sidelong at the Theurge "When y'in 'Yawk?"
(sasha)
Her eyes fell on the Ahroun, watching the change in him. She lays her head down upon her arm, pillowed in the curve of her inner elbow joint. Pitch-black hair falls across her cheeks, spilling over her shoulder.Arm extended, hand absently pulls in a playful tug on another dreadlock. It was easy to be comfortable around her, the low wash of rage was hardly detected by any Gaian. An advantage when dealing with mundane and kinfolk, despite the true nature of the monster she really was. A pretty monster bound in exotic smells and beauty.
The smile twists into a cheshire grin at his question. "I was in Manhattan for a few years, actually, I left t'ere to come here. Got word from Mama Larissa about de problems in Chicago. T'ere was a short while I was up in Maine, helpin' with a caern raisin'. One of mah mentors lived in at de sept in New York."
funny thing about those similarities.
(james)
a low chuckle ebbs from his throat in response to the playful tug
purring growl echoing near-silently into the night
badge of the beast (monster) harbored beneath his man-flesh-suit
and the monumental Rage held so carefully in check behind
too bad he is not as pretty a monster as she"S'how I got a Jers'y." his voice low in nostalgic grace "Lar'ssa sen' me down a check ou' s'me troubles th're cuz I dun 'ave a pack a th' time. Met up wi' Deck'r 'n Rune 'bou' two'r three week' in, join up wi' Eagles few day' lat'r 'n nev'r wen' back." dark eyes swing towards the she-wolf again "Who 'z y'r ment'r?"
by his expression, he doesn't mean to pry
instead he's reaching for the semblance of familiarity in the face of conflict
a common thread of similarities that's finally come to surface(sasha)
His chuckle draws a wider smile from her, chasing away the small signs of weariness from her facial features. It made her feel good to evoke that reaction out of someone."Joseph ‘Echoes of Gaia’ Ringer, an older theurge t'at was a metis like mahself. From Joseph, I further developed mah skills and knowledge of rites and spirits; learned to become a bit more combat perceptive, training with Joseph in de useful skills of Iskakku." her voice softens a little more, warm and affectionate as she reminisces.
She doesn't seem to mind telling him, the conversation touching on old memories, reminding her of how much of social creature Sasha really was. It felt good to have someone to talk with, to be in the company of one's peers. It was lonely being without pack or close friends, something Sasha sorely lacked in her life at the moment.
(james)
deep umber, the color of moist and rich earth, lifts to the sky once more
brows drawing together in the brevity of recollective thought
the mild gesture of worry cast away without another heartbeat thumping by"Heard've'm." nonchalant as the absent breeze carrying the smoke from his guttering Camel away "Nev'r gotta meet'm." then the quizzical look returns "Isssskakku?"
somewhat pleased with himself for not irrevocably mangling the word
just as with the talens, he seems genuinely interested in knowing
a part of it could be the Frankenweiler-taught cub
or perhaps the curiosity of a fellow warrior
though most likely - it seems James is just enjoying being around someone else that talks, instead of gruntssad, the little things that get to a Bone Gnawer when he's surrounded by a bunch of battlemongering Get
(sasha)
Quite to her surprise, Sasha was enjoying the conversation as well. The Gnawer was not what she expected on, despite what she could gleen from first drunken impressions. He wasn't all pissed-off like the Get he ran with. It was a refreshing surprise."Iskakku-- the Way of the Staff," she smirks, tilting the position of her head upon her arm to look up at the sky.
"Ya could say it's a special form of Coggie martial arts, only it involves a staff, like bo-staff fightin'. In a sense, it's de perfect weapon for a Coggie as it allows for a widely varied range of fightin' options, but focuses on de immobilization and disablin' of one's opponents."
She seems to be a plethora of strange knowledge tonight, happily sharing it with someone else that was willing to listen. "I guess to put it in simplest terms. We beat de shit outta people with huge sticks." Her sweet voice erupts into soft laughter, which filters out from her throat.
Fingers give another playful tug on his dreads, before dropping her hand away from the back of the bench to let it dangle.
(james)
seems the Gnawer is all full of surprises tonight, as she is with knowledge
for on her explanation, he offers another of the low-rolling laughs
something so strikingly different than the persona she was introduced to
the sound is rich, warm, and even friendly
nothing like the Garou he packs with
nothing like any would expect from the damaged and scarred Ahroun
it's a breif glimpse into the creature he used to be"Think you'n me oughta spar s'meti'e." elbow catches the slight curve of her flank, nudging in response to the tug - not only is he decidedly not all pissed off Get, he may entertain and even (gasp!) own a sense of humor! "See wh't y' c'n tea' me b'yon' Kali."
(sasha)
Dark lashes lower over pale blue eyes that flick over to James. Her smile grew into a cheshire grin, once more, wide and bright. He was laughing. She had made him laugh, allowing her to take a peek at some hidden side of James. Admittingly, she liked it."Yannow, I t'ink I like t'is version of James, better t'en de drunk one." she purrs in a teasing tone. The rich laughter never leaving her voice.
Her head tilts down to study him watch him, spilling pitch-black tendrils into her eyes. "What?!" a hint of surprise, "Don't tell me ya know how to fight with a staff, mon ami." his elbow pokes into the slight curve of her flank, causing her to wiggle in reaction. Soft, fishnet-clad feminine accoutrements bouncing in the sudden jerk of her body.
Sasha pulls herself up to sit straight, dropping her hands into lap, pressing them into her calf, as she leans forward to bring her face closer to James. "Oh, I have no doubt I can teach, shugah." a wiggle of her eyebrows at him, "T'ere's plenty of t'ings I be willin' to teach ya."
(james)
"Staff 'n stick', baby." his own grin is rather... cheshire.... if permanently lopsided "How y' think I got m' deed na'e?"the crooked smile lingers, appropriately
though it's coupled with a slant of his gaze down and away
that's mostly in response to her direct purring tease
whether it's for letting a part of himself so recently hidden show or... something.... else....
he's not letting her onto itcovering it all with a rake of fingers through tangled dreads
supposedly to pull them out of his face and back over a shoulder
scratching dull nails over his scalp
(buying a few moments... that's it....)
the cheshire grin waxing rogue"Dun think nobody seen this Jame' f'r 'while. But...." you should know better than this, Jamey-boy "w'cha willin' a tea'?"
(sasha)
"Staff'n stick, eh. I wonder if yar stick's bigger t'an de ones I've used." her own cheshire smile couldn't get any wider, as Sasha deliberately rolls words off her tongue in a seductive purr.Dark brows wiggle dangerously at him again, growing more flirty by the moment. It seems to chase away any signs of weariness, which she wore not to long ago. So easy to play the flirt, Sasha was quite incorrigible when it came to the opposite sex, even dangerous when it involved a werewolf.
Her eyes try read his body language to pick up any hidden gestures, almost in a curious study of the Gnawer. Sculpted brows tilting up into an arch once again as his cheshire (if permanently lopsided) grin waxes rogue. "Mhmmm," she says, "I certainly don't mind seein' t'is James tonight. It's been makin' for a most... tantilizin' conversation, shugah," a soft chuckle slips out, "What would I be willin' to teach? Hmm, lemme t'ink." she purses her lips together in thought. "Oh, I could teach a few t'ings, like Iskakku for instance, git ya on ya knees pretty quick, I t'ink. Be a good place to have ya--" voice trailing off to let the innuendo hang in the air.
(james)
so easy for her to change from weary to flirt
it's all writ in the gleam within her eyes
hovering in ambush beneath those dangerously wiggling brows
laying in wait above that incorrigable slash of a purring smile(oh.... how familiar it seems....)
her body language is easy to read; he can damn well smell her intention
but in return the Gnawer is the blank page of an open book
hidden beneath the layers of trench and shirt
lazily strewn across the deserted park's bench
there's nothing to betray whatever intentions formed within his lonely mind
not even in the way deep umber eyes brazenly meet her curious study
and a brow lifts"'zat so...." how much easier it is for him to smirk "Wha' ma'e you thin' y'c'n ge'me on m' knees.... much less kee' m' th're."
(sasha)
"Well..." she starts off, "it probably wouldn't take a great amount of effort to sweep you off yar feet," her left hand extends outward to touch side of his knee, brushing fingertips over the thin fabric, "It really depends on where I apply de blow, to make it cripplin'. Normally, takin' out de knee is de best way to git a man down. Of course, ya'd have to fight in homid for t'at to really work and not shift up."Lower lip tucks inward, biting on it, "As for keepin' ya on yar knees, James, either I break both'em. Push ya into a submissive manuever, which would hold ya t'ere. T'ough, a few t'ings come to mind." her hand drops away, sitting back to relax into the bench.
(james)
"'Course I' figh' in h'mid. Woul'n' b' fair oth'rwi'e...."the smoke clutched between his teeth is plucked free
sounds of that rare laughter drifting away on exhale
disappearing into the night as if nothing more than the cigarette's poisonous fumes
orange butt flicked into a nearby puddle
embrous light winking out in little more than a sizzleit causes him to stop a moment, listening to that
a moment's reality settling in
for all he knows that could be him in a few days
as quickly killed and forgotten as that Camel
impossibly, the thought doesn't remain long enough to concludehe was born to live and fight in these war-riddled times
he knows there will be one night that Luna shines silver smile in the sky above
and it will be that last time that she graces him with that serenity
so when that night comes and her expression is that of fond farewell
he will die in these war-riddled times without hesitation or regret(don't ever forget your faith, Jamey-boy....)
"Too bad breakin' me's firs' thin' a tha' lis'."
any and all intention she offered passed off with cavalier grin
the tiny, precious vials clink in safe-haven pocket
one Gnawer pivots his weight to move from sprawl to stand
imaginary hat tipped towards the Theurge before he turns to go"Nigh' Sasssh."
(sasha)
She turns on the bench, dropping her leg down to touch the ground with both boots. Arms lift up to stretch above her head as she watches him stand."Breakin' ya wouldn't be t'at easy, James, be a waste of good man." she says, looking up to him.
The back of her hand lifts up to cover her mouth, stifling a yawn. The flirtations long since died away, as the weariness begins to settle into her once again. She turns to lay down on the bench, pulling her jacket around her more, folding arms over her chest.
The crescent moon caught easily in her peripheral as she looks up at the sky, before a cant of her head to watch James tip his imaginary hat. "G'night, James, have a safe trip home." she calls up to him, slender fingers wiggling in a small wave.
Her gaze turns back up to the sky to watch it, and then, shuts her eyes while in wait for the Ahroun's receding footsteps. The bench wasn't comfortable, but it was a lot better than being trapped in a seedy motel room with a crybaby Silver Fang trying to get down her pants.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMMarch 15, 2004.03.15.04. - wonder if i'll lose them, too [tristan][riverfront[
(tristan)
Some hole in the wall rat trap (....heh.) motel room bed. A lot of alcohol. Carton’s of cigarettes. A violin. A jacket and sweater shed and tossed haphazzardly over that way, boots kicked off over another, and a pretty boi kin propped up against a battered headboard, with one open bottle in hand, lit smoke between his fingers, ash tray balanced on leanly muscled belly.Silent. Watching. Just... being there.
(stupid.fucking.fang.)It’s all he can do, so that is exactly what he does. He hasn’t broken the silence since watching (Let’s face it – in complete awe) the flurry of beat down between the two Ahrouns, simply offering the silent support of one who understands, who knows. James will speak when he’s ready. Or cry or scream or take it out on pretty boi skin and apologize later. And he’ll take it – however it falls. He knows James has (and will) do the same for him.
(james)
some hole in the wall rat trap motel room
the door kicked in and "locked" again with propped with remaining chair
the other, sadly, is little more than an explosion of splinters beside the bathroom door
the television smacked on for some semblance of mindless background noise
the kinfolk spread deceptively lazily across the length of one bed
the Ahroun sitting at the foot of the otherhis back is turned
offering Tristan nothing more than the view of warwround scars
ashed black clawmarks stark silhouette over darkening bruises coloring ribs
(you can bet one or two are cracked, good shot, Deck)
deep umber eyes staring at the puddle of blood between his boots
a line of crimson follows the crooked line of his jaw
dripping from a split highlighting the curve of cheekbonethe rate's slower now
skin pulling together at the amazing rate Garou heal themselves
nothing near as fast as if he shifted
but at least he's not soaking his shirt anymore
that's sitting in a forgotten pile at the base of one wall
splattermark of water and blood precisely four feet abovefinal lash out of ebbing Rage
now he's just smoking the remnants away(tristan)
His back is turned, and it affords him a chance rarely given. To simply look at his friend, his brother. Eyes trace those scars, the blossom of bruises, the splatter of blood, the curve of spine and the fall of shoulders that slump in something like defeat, the steady drip that is slowing finally with the amazing regenerative powers given to Gaia’s warriors.Reclined as he is, his own scars cannot quite be seen, in the dim light, the lastest set pressed against the headboard. Aside from the exit wound of a well aimed bullet on shoulder, the hint of claws that wrap around his side from a Dancer’s grasp along his back, a matching set – if from a different set of claws – along the other side from an ill timed lesson on good vs. bad to a stupid kin who still hasn’t learned the difference. Bruises are gone, his skin faded back into pretty boi perfection but for the map of stories laid inside his skin.
Cigarette is lifted to his lips, a slow measured inhale, followed by a slow exhale that follows his hand down to tap the ashes out into the carefully balanced tray. Again, a few moments later, and the butt is stamped out into the tray, long arm stretching to set it on a far from sturdy nightstand, as muscles crunch to pull lean form upright. Bottle joins tray, and he’s standing, still silent, to move to the bathroom. Water flows, shuts off, and he returns again, this time sitting on the bed next to James as he folds the damp hand towel in his hands, and then simply slides it into James’ line of sight.
(james)
silence affords the mind a chance to wander
perhaps he finds a distant recollection of better times past
though more likely, James thinks about the fight just endeddeep down, he's actually amused by it
for as horrendously ANGRY as he is (was) for what his packmate said
he can understand why it is that Decker said it
and there might even be an affectionate fondness in the knowledge the Modi made the effort to do sothe train of thought ammends itself in a huffed snort of humor
that sends a fine spray of blood towards the now offered towel
in the collective throb that creates his skull - he hadn't noticed the broken nose
(thankfully he never was the prettyboy)
a brow arches in slight surprise at the sight
but the towel accepted anyway
and the angle of his head changed to stem the newest bleed"Thank'."
(tristan)
Nope, the pretty boy position is taken, thank you, though his skin affords a road map of attempts to render him other wise. But the curls remain, the nose remains unbroken, the lips remain full and just as easy to spread in a smile as ever. Just as it does now with that huff of humor, the amused fondness that slowly seeps into the set of James’ shoulders, lights in his eyes.“Welcome.” That’s all that’s said in return first, though he’s looking at the puddle on the floor, and gaze wanders briefly toward the other things he’ll clean before leaving at some point. Looks like a crime scene, to be honest, and one they’d be lucky to have Imogen cover up. Fortunately long association with the woman and Tristan knows what, and how to clean up and alleviate suspicion that would doubt the sound mind and body of the two Gnawers when they eventually vacate the premises.
Then, almost amused. “So.” where to start. Where to get him to start. Missed you at Sunday dinner? Btw while you were lost we got beat to shit and the fuckers broke our house? Oh and guess what, my long dead mate is back and the hell am I supposed to do now? Or, D – none of the above.
D. “y’alright?” So what if he already knows the answer.
(james)
above the curve of the towel soaking the blood off his face
deep umber eyes swing to his left
glancing up at the prettyboy from frame of white and dreads"Depen' y'r def'n't'n a 'righ'."
from behind the folds of cheap-ass motel towel
the words are filtered by what may be cotton and residual alcohol
coupled with the fact his jaw's clicking again
that.... may, at some point, have resembled Englishtension sweeps out in soggy sigh
shoulders relaxed by amusement fall in acceptance
and his weight pivots at hips to take the Gnawer back onto the bed
towel removed for a breif drag off the Camel
replaced again as brows furrow in thought
dark eyes now facing only the ceiling
rough fibers of the comforter scratching the scars over his back"Thou' I w's."
(tristan)
Fortunately, he’s had practice deciphering what may or may not have been English at some point in time before filtered through such a menagerie of sound stealing circumstances. He nods, slightly, and when James fall backwards onto the bed, he shifts his own to more fully face his brother. A long reach to the other bed finds his pack and lighter, another cigarette lit before they’re tossed back again, and he just smokes in silence for a few moments.“Know the feeling.” And the snort that follows is amused, even as he shakes off that subject, and refocuses again on the matter at hand – namely, anyone else’s problems other then his own. If he had known what Tucker was up too...
(he didn’t trust him. He didn’t want to take his gifts. He didn’t want... fucking asshole. Next time there won’t be a turning away, there will only be a swing, no matter the beatdown that will inevitably follow. He wants that first hit. He wants the feeling of connecting solidly with flesh, he wants to hear the crack of bone. There is a long long line of grave errors made now... and he may only get the one chance to connect. You can bet he’ll put everything he is behind it, too.)
and in the end, he just leaves the continuation of conversation in the hands of the Ahroun.
(james)
"Jus'...... wa'n' 'pared a see a picture a how 'ppy we w're...."the admission (apology?) so very soft
it's clear by the underlying.... warmth.... in his tone
that he truly appreciates actually having a picture of her
obviously, previously, he did not
but the visage struck him like a slap in the faceit would have been easier to see a coroner's snapshot of her mangled corpse
at least he'd have a secure reason to mourn like he is
it's just a matter of getting past the grief and on to the nostalgia"Guess'll 'ave a get i' ma' wall't size t' put nex' a J's...."
not conversation, particularly, now the Fostern's just thinking out loud
(tristan)
he nods, slightly. It caught him by surprise too – though he holds vivid pictures of the two of them together in his mind, vivid pictures of everything then buried somewhere deep inside of Jersey, things that make him smile, that make him ache that make him... who he is.“Suppose so...” Added, just to have some sort of reply. However much it’s appreciated, its the motives behind it... ugh. Fingers drag through curls, and he stretches to find the ashtray again to tap the growing log from the end of his cigarette, remembering to take a drag afterwards, and exhaling slow. Whomever said absence makes the heart grow fonder, should have added that continued absence causes the heart to break, shatter, scream.
(james)
"Ev'r see't?"it must be the alcohol talking
for these are distant lands the Ahroun rarely, if ever, journies to willingly
towel removed long enough to put out his Camel in
wet butt flicked towards some random wall
the refolded and used to wipe the mess off his face
(tristan)
It must be, though he just nods, slightly, after a moment. “Once, quite a while ago.” He doesn’t remember exactly when it was, but he remembers the picture, he remembers the pain in umber gaze when he saw it, when he was forced back into memories journey that screams of more pain then any one man should ever have to bare.The same type of pain that visits his own dark gaze when he received the gift from Diego. The same that screams under his skin now that he’s seen him again. Didn’t he say that he’d be better knowing if his mate was alive or dead? That the not knowing was the worst? Funny how the mind can make you believe the oddest of lies.... and how Dustin aches now, wondering, no matter how many times Tristan reasserts his choice...
Sort of amused. “We were drunk.”
(james)
there's another scuffed snort of amusement
oh, that is novel news"Mean 'ere's a time w're nah?"
splatsmackthump the towel joins the shirt at the base of the wall
it's soaked up about as much as it cane handle
lips still stained with smeared blood quirk in bladed half-smile
lately, the Ahroun knows, there's few and far between times they're not
both drinking away some pain they're trying to forget the name of
convincing themselves it's finally time to move on
but no matter how hard you try, and how valiant your effortssometimes it's the the memory that won't let you go
there's a frightening similiarity between the pictures
each of his current pack at their prime
partying as hard as the night was long
rarest of occasions when the Wyrm wasn't knocking upon their door"Won'er if I'll lose'm, too."
hell, half of those in the picture are already gone
even keel with those in the folded Polaroid now dead and buried
James shakes away the thought (the chills raking down his spine) in situp and stretch
reaching for the recently discarded pack to snag another(tristan)
He chuckles and shrugs. “Damn good thing we’re cheap drunks.” Otherwise it would keep the Gnawers far too busy just to support the attempts at forgetting, to let go of memories that keep sneaking back to throw you once more into the pit of pain.The wonder brings his gaze up to his brother’s again, watching as he sits up and shakes off the thought. They’re always losing it seems, always fighting some battle that will likely never be won in their lifetime – as frighteningly short a span as that will be.
James snags another cigarette, and the battered bic is flicked to check flame, then offered to his brother for his use. Cheap drunks, cheap dates, cheap... The most expensive thing he owns he’d never sell, the most expensive gift he was given will remain perched on some pedestal to give to some future progeny he’ll never have. (...after all, he’s useless to the nation that way...)
Hand drags through curls, breath drags from cigarette, both fall again in some lazy disarray, a curl of smoke, the fall of fingers followed by slide of corkscrew curl. Finally...
An exhalation. There’s really not much to say to that. He’d report that his brother will not lose him, but then again, he’s come all too close all too many times just since moving to Chicago. Damn the Wrym Newsletter that apparently features the pretty boi kin as meal of the month. Someday his luck will run out.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMMarch 14, 2004.03.13.04. - she IS worth it [tristan-decker-imogen](james)
as if James really. needs. any. more. liquor.
he's a fucking lightweight
and, by himself, has downed at least half that bottle of JD
by all rights, he shouldn't even be walking
much less stalking and throwing with any depth of precisionone mostly gloved hand slams down into a pocket
rabbit diving into the safety of it's burrow from the pouncing wolf
pulling out a crumbled measure of bills
pushing them into his brother's handacross from Al's Li uor their paths split
if momentarily
Tristan heads inside to purchase the strongest their money can buy
James heads to the bank of the river where it passes closest to the walk
one trashcan picked up and HEAVED far as it can go out into the black waters
resultant and protesting splash echoing off the buildings behind
trench is shed and dropped onto the now lonely bench in some semblane of reparancethen the proud and mighty Ahroun falls into a crouch on the deck-like railing
fingers winding up into heavy dreads and keeping his head from flying away
he's damn lucky he doesn't fall into the welcoming river
most likely it's the keening wail echoing in his mind that keeps him weighted to the ground
(Gaia... he didn't think he could hurt any more than he already has....)(sasha)
It was hard to tell if Sasha was mad.. The detached gestures in her body language couldn't quite describe the emotions she was feeling right now."T'at's fine, Tucker," said without looking up at him, the direction of his voice and the absence of his weight pressed into her side, told Sasha he had moved. She takes in a few more deep breathes, lowering a hand from her face to lay it on the table, soon followed by the other. Her head cants up to look at him, the deep furrowed frown etched in a cold mask across beautiful, flawless features.
"Why did ya do t'at?"
(decker)
Not for a moment would he believe her so easily distracted. But then, the reverse is probably also true. All the same she, for all intents and purposes, is. So is he - snapping up and around at the sound, fast as a whipflick. A beat. What her keen eyes strain to pick out, his totembond already tells him."'S James." Mixed feelings. He sounds somewhere between annoyed and baffled, a touch of curiosity here, a dash of worry. Turn back; he looks at her for an interim. Then, grabbing the edge of the truck's bed, he vaults out.
He doesn't ask Imogen to follow. Wouldn't ask that of her. But that he loops past her before starting down the gentle slope is telling. In the subtler language of wolves, it's almost an invitation.
(tristan)
He takes the bills as they are thrust, and inside he goes. It doesn’t matter what he grabs, as long as it’s within reach, and strong. Three wisemen it is. Not that it will take near that much for Tristan, or normally for James – but emotional tormoil does funny things to a person. There shouldn’t be any need to drink away the pain – but when one has so much rage, when one has so. much. Pain... sometimes, you just need to knock your ass out until the worst of it passes.Sometimes – that’s all that you can do.
He pays, quickly, and takes up the bag, tucking the change back into his pocket to be handed back later. He nods his thanks to Al (so what if it’s a barely legal punk who couldn’t possibly be anything other then the minimum wage worker stuck on the night shift) and heads out the door again. A glance, and it’s to the river, and his brother he moves.
By the trenchcoat on the bench he sets his violin and the bag with two bottles. The third he’s opening and taking a healthy swig, before he stands behind James. He knows that his presence is felt, he knows that he will not surprise his brother, but he still gives a moment, a slight noise under his breath to announce himself before he reaches around to hold the bottle in front of James.
There’s no actual contact, but he’s close enough to feel the rage, the heat, the boil of pain sliding from skin under cloth. And he’s close enough to lean on if needed – physically, mentally. He’s also close enough to take a beating should he suddenly be the only thing available to throw over that railing. (Thus – the violin is over there.) Quite simply. He’s just there.
(octravio)
~His sandwhich comes shortly after and he eats that slowly and quietly and looks over to Sasha and Tucker as he eats quietly~(imogen)
"S'what I thought..." murmered quietly in the wake of his departure. And maybe Imogen truly is perceptive enough to read the language of wolves, or maybe she would have gone anyway.The cigarette is extinguished, not against her palm, but simply extinguishing the ember, pinching it off with her fingers, before she pockets the fag (lord knows why she bothered, this time, out of all of them), and follows.
(tucker)
His voice is a mere whisper, it doesn't travel futher than Sasha."The one in the picture... that he was with." Sigh. "James I mean..." He shoots her a hard look. And you cannot breathe word of this
"They were in love... I just found out and... I knew he was hurting...I wnated to help." He looks up at her.
"I hope I did. It might help with some of the other shit. That Fianna's family who don't have him cause of me. Miriam, who I've fucked up for life. My pack... who i've betrayed coutless times. My fucking dad.... who I wasn't stron enough to save." His stell blue eyea are focused on her. "I needed to do the right thing now."
(sasha)
"And... de ring for Kemp?" her gaze remains steady on Tucker, voice calm, yet soft still. Like the calm before the storm...
(james)
there are times when human rationality flees towards the horizon
all that is left is the animal need to take out unfathomable emotion on whatever is closest
a lashing out, so to speak, in the blind vendiction of making something else hurt as well
it's a primal state of equality and dominance that surfaces in times of greatest need
something that goes far deeper than fight or flight
something that preys mercilessly on base emotionright now, James will take anything within his reach
at first, it seems to be the bottle
liquid inside sloshing in desperation's plea to be saved
(.....FOR GOD'S SAKE JAMES DON"T DO IT!)
which, if barely, the Fostern heard through the chaos in his head
the bottle finds salvation in sacrificing a good fifth of it's bittersweet contents
and instead of glass or kinfolk, a rock is sent sailing into the great black yonder
three wisemen (HA!) shoved back into Tristan's handwhatever urgent question grasping at understanding brave enough to work its way past James' lips......
is an unintelligable snarl
the one thing the Ahroun wants to do is completely fucking. blow. up.
but he settles for springing back to his (wobbly) feet and paces a dangerous linehe wishes it were raining, still
it would excuse the dampness ringing his eyes(tucker)
"Don't have a chance to do it myself, like I said. Tristan is the one taking care of the kid, it should be up to him." He shrugs."You don't think It's a bad thing I did, do you?" Fearfull now, filled with doubt.
(decker)
Down to the water's edge. Down to the river. Lights gleaming on the other bank. Freighters docked silent in the distance, at the docks, near the edge of the great lake and its saltless waves.He precedes Imogen by some ten feet or more, but hearing her follow, slows his gait somewhat. When she catches up to him he casts her a brief untelling glance. Then, away.
And no. Not Tristan's hand. It's the Modi's hand that reaches out and grabs it. A slug of Wise Man #1 (whassit... Jim Beam?), and then he caps it loosely. Levers himself up on the railing in a flawless slide of strength. Passes the bottle on to Imogen, or Tristan if she refuses it.
A flicker of a glance over James, startlingly perceptive. Grunts a greeting, "'Sup."
Nothing more. What'd you expect? Crushing embrace and back-pounding? Emoting over a mug of amber? Never. As for James: he can talk if he wants to. Or he can keep his mouth shut. Decker doesn't care, either way. And if Imogen wants up on the railing he moves over for her. But he doesn't reach out to haul her up. Wouldn't insult her independence like that.
(tristan)
There’s a moment he thinks he is really going to go over the rail. Water looked cold, but hell, he’d survive it. He’s survived worse. The bottle is shoved back, and then snatched away again with the appearance of the Modi. Nod up. Same for Imogen.But other then that, and taking the bottle back, he’s silent.
(octavio)
~He finishes his sandwhich and dabs his mouth cleaning off a few loose crumbs and he sets down the napkin and picks up his coffee and jacket and walks over to Sasha and Tuckers table and sets coffee cup on the table and sets his jacket on the back of an empty chair, and he takes a seat beside Sasha.~ Good evening to you both.(imogen)
Her hands had begun a progression into the pockets of her jacket, before she thinks better of it, and lets them fall to her sides as she catches up with the Modi, holding his brief glance, even if she doesn't understand.And toward James and Tristan. She does not join Decker on the railing, but she does take the bottle when he hands it to her, automatically, before she actually glances at the label. Tristan gets the bottle and the female kinfolk doesn't touch it.
(james)
the sudden appearence of the Modi's hand should startle him
it is, decidedly, MUCH different than Tristan's
even to a drunk manbut it doesn't even stop the Gnawer's stride
he answers the greeting with a low grunt bolting past bared teeth
(but the sound escaping through their bond before he can stop it is an animal's dying moan... just at that moment when it realizes its scared shitless and lost in the darkness, and there's nowhere to go but down because maybe, just maybe, there's something better beneath that megalith blanket of sleep)
weight pivoting on unsteady heel to switch directions before falling off the edge of the bank
... water looks damn cold ..."F'kkin sun'v'n'in'bre'bich" words spat like slurred venom "fuck'e go' show me tha'f'r...."
Tucker was right
James loves the photograph
it's the reason he set it aside before destructive tendencies took over
primitive emotional backlash is a bitch(sasha)
"What's de sentimental value of de ring, Tucker?" calmly asked, Sasha's unimaginable patience showing through it was so hard to tell what she was really feeling, the calm tone projected in her voice seeps through her body language.She straights her shoulders, back pressed into the benchseat. Pale blue eyes upon Tucker, until their table was filled with a new presence. Teeth grit together, the line of her jaw muscle flexes on the right side. A hand drops down to her slightly damp coat, pulling it across her lap. She was still shivering, only slightly now. "Evenin'," cajun accent flavoring her voice, nostrils flaring out to breath in Octavio's scent... purebred this one was.
(tristan)
The bottle makes it’s way back to him, and there’s a few swallows taken. Just to steady the nerves. Then it’s handed back to the Modi, who can offer it to whomever else he wants afterwards. His hand tucks into his pocket. And his gaze shifts out over the water. It’s James’ story to tell.(tucker)
Tucker's pure bred too. and before he can answer Sasha's question the other Garou iterrupts.Bad timing. Feel the wrath of a Silver Fang full moon on an emotional roller coaster.
"Whatever the fuck it is, we don't want any. Go the fuck away." Flat, monotone, deadly.
(octavio)
"Shoosh boy I was not intrested in your response." ~He turns to Sasha and smiles.~ "My name is Octavio Broekemeier and who might you be." ~He grins and holds out his hand to her palm side up~(decker)
Now here's a riddle if you will.What the fuck could cause a reversal of roles where Decker's sitting calm as a glass snake, and James is stalking around like his veins were on fire?
Answer's known to all. Just the details are left up in the air.
Round and round the bottle goes. Decker takes a smaller sip this time, 'cause Imogen didn't take any. Always stay less drunk than the kin. After that he just caps it and leans down to set it on the ground, his feet hooked through the middle rail keeping his balance. Broad sheet-muscles across his back flex as he rises up, crouched atop the railing like a bird-of-prey, his eyes following James as the Gnawer wheels, stalks, moves, stumbles.
Drunk.
Swallow of his mouthful of liquor. A grimace at the burn, wipe mouth on back of wrist. Drawled offhand, "Show'dya what." Sounds unconcerned, almost bored. Best thing to be, really.
(sasha)
"Tucker, not now." she says to him, shooting him a look.She looks back to Octavio, extending her hand to shake his, fingers cold and trembling. "Sasha Delacroix."
(tucker)
Fingers curl into fists, the warform is only subverted by his own will. He young man looks into the other's eyes."That is the first and last time ya ever call me boy. I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight, you disrespectfull, pompus fucking prick."
Rage is a stoked furnace around him, Pure breeding and intimidation pour off from the overly muscled Ahroun. His look alone shows anone at the other end that he is not a man to be trifled with.
(octavio)
~He smiles and takes her hand in his and kisses her hand~ Ahh a most unexpected pleasure to see one as lovely as you in a dump like this." ~He smiles as he ignores Tuckers words.~(sasha)
Reflexive action as Octavio kisses her hand, a slight jerk as Sasha pulls it back. "I'm osrry, y'all have to excuse me a moment, Monseiur Broekemeier, would ya mind lettin' me up." absolute politeness dripping from her tongue as Sasha speaks, pulling her arms into her coat to settle it around her. She scoots to the edge of the benchseat, ready to stand, or climb, out.Her head turns to look at Tucker. "Tucker, could ya be a doll and wait for me outside, please?"
(tucker)
"Yeah, don't be long if ya can help it though, -rhya."He pushes octavio hard. out of his way on the path to the door. Aura of killing frenzy ready to snap ifthe man so much as tries to move back into his direction on his way out the door.
(kemp)
Still shaking his head now and then after the conversation earlier with Ash. Shit, what he could he explain to the guy if his pack or blue sister or whatever, couldn't do it? Leaning forward slightly, knees parted with his perch on the steps.(imogen)
She watches the Gnawer Ahroun pace and stumble, the weaving steps of one who has had far too much alcohol.It's not the first time she's seen him drunk, maybe because he did not follow the same rule Decker does. Don't get more drunk than the kin.
Spectator in this, she offers silence, her gaze flicking briefly past Decker toward the river, her hand passing over her hair, before sliding back.
(james)
in a state of such emotional turmoil
most would bristle at the seeming nonchalance of their audience
James, though, seems to understand it
and by Gaia is glad there's no other raising hackles to inspire his own
he's bad enough already, thank you very muchif the earth opened up gaping maw to swallow him
he'd probably walk right into the void without looking back
(anything. to make it. stop.)
one of those nights you just get drunk enough to fall off the world until it's all overhard for James to not get more drunk than the kin, really
a gesture - halting - towards his trench
Tristan will have to show it
James simply can't look at it again
not now
(he can still see the look in her eyes that reminded him of his will to live...)he was doing so well.
(sasha)
"Merci, sir." Sasha calls back to Octavio, stuffing her hands into the wide depths of her pockets.A low growl rumbles in the base of her chest, pale blue eyes catch the light, reflecting briefly like an animal's, as she heads out the door. Hands remain in her pockets, touching her shoulder to the door to shove it open with her weight. She steps out into the chilly weather, looking around as the rain had stopped falling.
She almost wished it didn't. Her eyes cut across to Tucker, the pale blue color bleeding away to a harsher, brighter amber-yellow. wolf eyes. Sasha starts to walk past him, nodding her head towards the mouth of a alley that would take them out of sight.
"C'mon, Tucker, we need to talk in private. I got sumt'in to ask ya, sweety." her voice remains calm... the patience stretched too far this time. Sasha disappears into the alley, waiting for Tucker.
(tristan)
James points to the trench, and Tristan just looks at him for a long moment, before he nods. A turn carries him back, and the picture is taken from inner pocket, where it’s in the waterproofing back to stay in pristine condition, and those same two steps carrying him back to where Decker slouches along the rail.A moment, and then he hands it to Decker. “This.”
(tucker)
"Yes, ma'am." He follows, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf he thinks he is.He reaches the alley five or six steps back.
"Yeah?"
(decker)
Decker scissors the pic up between fore and middle fingers. Flips it around, the wind threatening to bend it backwards and tear it from his hands. Briefly the Modi glances down at it, eyes narrowed to pick out detail from night and wind. He recognizes the faces, maybe even remembers the night. Or maybe not. A beat later he passes it to Imogen.Reaches down for Jim Beam. Screws the cap on tight and hands it to Tristan. A pause, the Modi looking down the darkened street at the hulking monoliths of stilled factories and cranes.
She was a breathtaking one, wasn't she? Rune. Fierce and so brilliant with her own inner fire that she burnt her image into your retinae. An August scorcher of a woman - a Garou - all fire and animal grace and stalking, long-limbed ferocity.
And the fascination she caused, the devastation she could leave behind: that's exactly the sort of weakness Decker fears from a woman an Ahroun could love.
"Jus' let 'er go, fer fuck's sake," he mutters. Pause. Then, deliberately callous, "She ain't worth'it."
(james)
James. stops.
the world may keep spinning about him for a few more beats
but the Gnawer, actually, stopsand in the span of that singular pause
something clicks
something finally, irreversibly, breaks(it's what you've always needed to hear, Jamey-boy, just nobody's had the balls to say it to you)
suddenly, the Fostern is in motion again
he turns, and SWINGS
it's a blow hard enough to take the Modi off his feet
and even for as much as he's drunk in far too short a time - the fist flies hard and true
amazing what can sober a guy up on the banks of a river"fuck you think I' been tryin' a do?!"
snarling retort overshadowed by Decker's mocking bait
("'zat it? C'mon... if yer gonna fight me.... FIGHT ME.")
and then. it's. on.both of them learned to fight because they -had- to
the Fenrir brawling in the trailer parks of Alabama
the Gnawer battling it out simply to survive on the skids of New York
each full moon backed by a load of Rage and reason
so many nights they waged a war at each other's sides
now the brutality turns the packmates against each other
one pulling his fury out of pain against the other's twisted compassionEagle Pack really has a fucked up version of therapy....
they've fought before over a difference of opinions
leaving behind a clearing that once held beautiful trees
in shadow of distant freighters the destruction is still the same
a sudden train wreck across the street from Al's Li uor
and just as violently as it began, the scuffle is over
each with their share of blood and bruisesJames' breath heaves with a gutteral snort
(she IS worth it)
but then his head shakes
(most likely to clear it, cause the world's spinning again)
then he just turns and walks away
(he's lost enough packmates already)(sasha)
One...two...three..
And, here it comes...
Amber-yellow eyes cut to Tucker as Sasha stops, piercing through the semi-darkness at him for a moment, before they bleed away to their original color. Pale blue, an icy blue.She pulls her hands from her pockets, arms dangle at her sides, flexing fingers to work away the tension.
Her voice sounds harsher now, more feral, if you could imagine that coming from this peacenik Child of Gaia. "What de fuck do ya t'ink yar doin? Where de fuck didya leave yar brains, Tucker, in yar ass??" a dominant growl vibrates in her throat, glaring right at him. The fingers of her left hand uncurl, morphed into wicked garou claws, lifting up to slash out across his face in her anger.
(tucker)
"I-" claws hit him hard, spilling blood and tissue across the Fang's face. He nearly shifts instictivy to his glabro form. But wills himself down in Homid.A hand comes up to touch his face, smearing the pouring blood. "Why?"
Confused, like a child.
(sasha)
It is only one swipe. The left hand dropping back to her side, claws bloodied, half curling up again.She looks at him, furrowing her brow into the deep frown once more. She's worn this expression most of the night. "De picture. De ring. What're tryin' to prove to James by givin' it to'im? Ya tryin' to piss'im off even more?"
(tucker)
"No...I..." His head shakes. "You don't know James. If he was pissed, I'd be dead.""The ring... it belonged to Kemp's only friend in the world when he had his first change. She's fuckin' dead now Sasha. It's his right to have it, and forgive me if I don't feel worthy enough to give it to him myself."
He's angry now, probably the first time this has ever been directed at the Coggie. But it blazes of offended Rage and miffed honor.
(sasha)
"Yar damn lucky he was choked up more with emotion, bein' in de drunk state he was, or he would've throated yar ass, Tucker." her anger flared more by his words, chest strained against leather, as she sucks in a deep breath, issuing it out in a low, threatening growl."I know about Kemp, Tuck, and givin' him sumt'in like t'at ain't goin' make'im feel any better. T'at boy's got his own problems and hurt feelings. Don't need ya muckin' it up even more." the defensive tone etched in her voice as she spoke protectively about Kemp.
"I don't know de details ya talk with James, but I know it didn't go too well. And, he's still hurtin' over it, remindin' him of of his charach-love ain't helpin' either."
(tristan)
The bottle is handed to him, and held loosely at his side.
James stops.
And then the world is a blur and there’s been a thousand and one different ways of telling people a thousand and one different things.... but would the Modi be so quick to give up on Imogen... That’s the first thought.Until it clicks. There’s blows and activity that is almost over before it begins and there are bruises on both, and the kin is left staring – always amazed when he sees them fight, even as fucked up therapy.
Then there’s a snort, and Tristan blinks, before he reaches to Imogen and takes the picture from her with a slight (tight, strained, sad, fucked up, pissed off, no humor at all) curl of his lips, and he’s grabbing the trench coat, the bag of alcohol, his violin. And he follows the steady stalk of James off into the distance, Jogging a few steps until he’s caught up, and then simply falling in step, silent.
(tucker)
"I lived with both of them for a long time, it hurt me to see her gone too, I just wanted him to see that..."His head goes down. At the mention of Charach he blushes, heavily cheeks becoming red fire, aggravation in his voice. "You don't fucking get it do you?"
He rushes forward and takes he by the face in both hands and kisses her, full on the mouth. A perceptive person or Garou even would pick up the faint feeling of burnt Rage from his movement across the alley.
He breaks the kiss, "Since the fucking day you took me in... I don't care Sasha."
Infinitly unaware of those claws, that or he doesn't care.
(imogen)
She had enough time to take the picture from Rohl and take a brief glance (familiar faces. familiar location) before James is stalking forward and the small redhead abruptly falls back, giving space between herself and the two packmates.She had, oddly enough, been expecting violence. She did not need her perceptions for that. Not being legally blind was enough.
James stalks off, and the slender woman's gaze flicks toward Tristan and the hand reaching out for the photograph, and the kinwoman simply hands it back.
Tristan follows James, and her gaze follows it, briefly, before turning her eyes back toward the Modi, a brief scan, notary of injury, because neither got out of this unscathed. That she might know, intellectually, at least, that these injuries could heal in seconds or minutes, makes the glance more clinical than anything.
(decker)
And it's ON.Dodging. Who the fuck dodges? Dodging is for pussies. They might dodge with others. Mortals who'd go down with a single punch. Dodge to extend the pleasure, baby - dodge and watch them get all furious and purple in the face 'cause no matter how fast they think they can move, you can move five times faster.
Dodging's for shits 'n giggles.
There ain't no dodging here.No - the two Ahroun go at it, colliding like freight trains, like wolves, slamming up against each other. Fists fly. Knuckles strike mouth, ear, nose, kidneys. Elbows jab. They break apart. Circle warily. Explode on some unseen cue. Together - fists hitting meat like mallet on beef - break; the Gnawer stalking off, the Fenrir letting him go with violence but no hatred in his eyes. The Fenrir wiping his mouth on his arm and spitting thin blood off to the side. The Fenrir slouching back against the railing without a word. Spitting again.
She IS worth it.
They're always worth it.Seconds later it's all quiet again. Only when his tortured too good for his own good packmate vanishes off to whatever hellhole he's found for himself tonight does he pull his gaze away, to Imogen. It sparks like lightning over her skin. He moves, straightening. Bruise starting to darken on his eye, lip split against his teeth. Shrugs.
"You wanna drink?" He raises his chin at Al's Li uor.
Posted by james at 12:00 AM.03.13.04. - poisonous gifts [sasha-tucker-tristan][riverfront]
(shasha delacroix)
Dark, heavy rain clouds rolled across the sky, emptying great spouts of water upon the city to cleanse it of the ever-present filth that covered its streets. Thunder rumbles like a yawning lion, mingled with the bright, violet-white hued flashes of lightning that illuminate the clouds…. The temperatures seem chillier than normal; thanks to the lovely Chicago winds that guiding the heavy rains in any direction it chooses.Few people dared to be caught out on the streets in this downpour, some aren’t so fortunate. Walking, huddled beneath the heavy black winter coat, Sasha made her way through the rain along the sidewalk. Clothes soaked to the bone, her back kept to the wind and rain as she sought out some refuge from the weather, transverse the Eagle’s territory like she does every night.
(tristan)
So much for playing tonight. The streets have emptied of all but the most die-hard travelers, or those who are simply unfortunate with no other means of transportation. The pretty boy is one of the last. Good thing he’s not sugar, he won’t melt. Before slipping from the Diner, he also took out the waterproof cover hidden in a pocket of his violin case for just such an occasion, and slid the case into the cover, so as to further protect his baby.Some hunch up against the rain, others just plow right on through it, some even like it. A mixture of the last two, he’s simply moving along the sidewalks, little splashes of well worn boots along the quickly forming puddles at his feet, paying a bit more attention to where he’s going this time around so as not to be almost bowled over again.
(james)
few people dared to be caught out on the streets in such a downpour
we're talkin' the sky opened up and just let loose Niagara falls right over Chicago
wind whipping the haphazard drops into mini hurricans for each block
but then again, James is no mere person
he? is Garou
better yet? he? is a fullmoon
we don' need to hide from no stinkin' rain, meng!the alcohol probably helps
generouslywhile others may be huddling from the rain
one drenched to the bone Gnawer is strolling along like it's a walk in the park
dreadlocks hang heavy and tangled over his shoulders
the patchwork trench is now a kaliedascope of darkly wet colors
boots splish! in the puddles he doesn't care enough to walk around
one quarter-dry bottle of JD dangling loosely from right handthere's something to be said about police and public intoxication
but the SWAT team is busy, and no mere beat cop wants to mess with him
....fancy thatafter the scope of another few blocks
there's a figure up ahead that looks.... vaaaaguely familiar through the water curtains
it would be Sasha, but dammitall if he can't remember her name(sasha)
Well worn boots ate up concrete quickly. Pitch-black mane cascades in wet, twisted tendrils around her, clinging to her temples, throat and coat. She almost resembled a drowned rat, but even this drowned rat manages to retain some noble composure and sex appeal. Good thing she always wore black... The loud clomping splashes drew her attention, eyes focus ahead of her as James slips into her view.
The corners of her mouth quirk upward into a smile, wondering what he was doing. She continues to plow ahead, in his direction, still huddled in her coat.(tris)
Round the corner, and we have Sasha up ahead – looking like the sexiest drowned rat he’s ever seen....
....until the drowned child o’Rat is seen beyond her and heading this way. Now –that’s- sexy. But he’s prejudice, and all. None-the-less it brings that easy grin into play as he speeds up a bit, intending to catch up with Sasha, and then James beyond her.Finally – a whistle pierces the air to get their attention, chin lifting in classic Eagle nod up afterwards.
(james)
she may resemble a drowned rat
but by all definitions and purposes
he is oneand rather enjoying it
he should be frozen to the bone at this rate
but he's still just strolling along
face lifted to the cleansing offering from the sky
if it can wash the city clean - surely it can offer him the same salvation
dark, deep umber eyes slant half mast beneath the sky's tearful kisses
seeming to be off in his own world until but a few yards awayand stops
providing her with a lovely three-quarter view of one drowned rat
bottle lifted so two fingers can point to her as his mouth opens in recollection
and closes as the vague memory slips away
then the lightbulb goes on (quite literally) as inspiration hits"Sassssha.... righ'?"
then the whistle filters in
and James looks past to nod up at the prettyboi(sasha)
Raindrops kiss across dark lashes that curtain pale blue eyes, which catch a reflection of amusement at the drowned Gnawer. She lifts up a hand, wiping the rain from her face, pushing wet tendrils behind her ears. "Ya got it right, darlin', Sasha's mah name. Don't wear it out lesse tend to moan it out for me." naturally sweet voice, rolls words like honey, off her tongue when she spoke.A slight shake of her head, sends more water droplets flecking away from her face, canting it to one side to peer over her shoulder in the direction of the whistle. She slows down, waiting for Tristan and James to catch up with her. "What in de name ya doin' out here, Tristan, goin' catch ya death. And, Kemp'll be all pissy."
(tristan)
He chuckles and hooks an arm around Sasha and presses a chilled damn kiss to her cheek. (damn irreverent Gnawer Kin that he is – she being a Fostern after all) before the arm drops again and hand tucks into his pocket. He looks over James, slowly, head tipping, before he just winks and that grin reappears. “Well, we can’t have my boy get all pissy like that. Heaven knows he’s pissy enough most days. Was playing before the skies decided to up and dump their load all over us. Sides’ I’m tough, little rain certainly won’t make me melt – let alone get sick. Hell, it can’t even get the curls to quit curling...” runs fingers through soaked corkscrews in rueful proof.(james)
at one time, long ago, his voice may have been sweet on the ears
smooth tenor wrapped in cavalier streetman's charm
now it's rougher around the edges
probably due to what makes that slur not entirely JD's responsibility"No worry." edged on a smile, and maybe, even, a wink "Too 'ard a 'nounce, an'way. Make' me soun' drunk."
a grin shot at Tristan
the good mood is entirely the JD's responsibility(sasha)
A wet arm slips around Tristan's waist, giving him a quick squeeze as he kissed her cheek, releasing him quickly. She chuckles softly, "I can see ya point." reaches out to tousle his curls, shaking raindroplets everywhere. "Ya need a barber, hun, lookin' a little shaggy t'ere."She casts a lingering glance over to James, dropping it down to the bottle of JD, before bringing it back up. "I'd say ya quite happy already. T'anks to Mr. Daniels t'ere. Got anymore left to share?"
(tristan)
He laughs and shrugs, tucking his hand into his pocket. “just a couple of rats we are – but I dare say m’bro here is quite a bit more saggy then me. Side’s, Dustin’s threatened to hurt me if I touch the curls with sissors, so I’ll just stay shaggy for a while.”He notes the reason for the good mood, shaking his head at James with a grin. “Yeah – don’t be stingy there, bro... share the wealth. Though you and me, we’d probably better be careful. Wouldn’t look to good to have Sasha carry us both home...” One of the things that drew them together, after all, was an equal inability to handle large amounts of liquor. At least he’s not holding Tequila. We all know where THAT got them last time.....
(james)
James is, luckily for his nearly non-existant wallet, a lightweight
what would have most men barely buzzed
has him. quite. happy.
so the 3/4 full bottle is held out to share"Alway'."
and he's serious about that
others need, a Hood provides
even if it's his last meal
he'd always share it with those deemed worthy
so far: Sasha seems worthy
as does Tristan, the bottle handed over freely
he, then, asserts the yoke of his shoulders against a wall
digging in his pockets through habitual routine search for Camel packthen.... remembers it's raining
(tucker)
Drip drop, the rain is a wet testament to Gaia's mood. As well is it's a direct opposite of Tucker's. He's got a half smile that one may not have seen since Gabriel was still alive. It's a warm thing, one that could lead men- or Garou into the maw of the final battle itself. His dark hair, which has flecked itself in silver as of late, mats down on his scalp, becoming even darker, a midnight chocolate of muddy water at sundown. He smells the Gnawer, and the Coggiw from a way off. Her honey suckle scent and his strange mixture of Camels pot and those unwashed BDU's. Tristan's scent is next as he moves closer but not as strong, not a bad smell compared to any gnawer he's met before really. His hand goes up as he breaks into a run.No, he hasn't had a craving in days, his arm holds none ofit's usual scratch marks and his eyes have none of the sleepless baggage of normal.
"Hey!" he calls from a few yards off into the rainy night.
(sasha)
Sasha snorts softly, running her hands through long pitch-black tendrils, shaking the water from her hair as its gathered back away from her face. "Fuck carryin' yar asses home. I'll just find de nearest dry spot and take advantage of yar drunk asses."Her left hand drops down to receive the offered bottle, bringing it up to her lips to take a good swig. The girl knew how to drink and had no qualms about drinking from the same end as a Gnawer. The whiskey burns a warm path down her throat, into her gullet. Cheeks flush with color suddenly, feeling it warm her insides. She passes what's left over to Tristan, sharing the wealth as it were.
Sasha sidesteps closer to the wall, chasing off a shiver that creeps over her spine as rain steals itself into her coat and down the back of her neck. "Gah.. t'is ain't mah idea of a lovely time. Not de way I like to get wet..."
(tristan)
He laughs and takes the bottle, pointing it back at Sasha. “you are more incorrigible the me. And that? is saying a whole hell of a lot, just ask James.” He then tips the bottle back to let whiskey burn down his throat, before completing the circle and handing it to James again.Gaze narrows on the Fang in the distance, the smile slipping away. “fucking wonderful.” Before he resolutely turns his back, and faces James and Sasha again. So what if he’s still out in the rain, doesn’t seem to really bother him. James’ belated realization while patting down pockets in ritualistic search is chuckled at. “I’ve a dry pack at the factory, bro.”
(james)
Hey!
the word cuts through the rain like a gunshot
and drunk as he is, even James recognizes it
we'll see how long the good mood lasts"Gotta room nearby..... if y'two wanna dry off'n wait out th' storm."
yeh, the "wet" remark went right over his head
he's more in the mood to avoid another confrontation
tonight? he already knows he wouldn't have the restraint
already turning to walk away even as the Fang approaches(tucker)
"Hey guys wait up!" The Fang's light voice cuts through the night again. It's a breathless voice, as he finally closes the gap between. Shoes hitting pavement in a harmonic crescendo with the clap or two of thunder in the background. He moves close to Sasha, looking to each in turn."What's up?" Fingers interlace behind the Fang's head as he opens his lungs up to more of the cool wet air.
(sasha)
Hey! rings out just behind them, catching her attention and causes Sasha to turn around to look at the approaching Tucker. She swings her head around, immediately detecting the sudden shift in mood swings from both Gnawers. Lips purse together, one boot steps in front of the other, automatically following James without a thought. The bodily desire to be dry and warm, holding precedence over anything else at the moment.It is Tucker's nearness to her that draws hesitance from Sasha, forcing her to pause and acknowledge the offense. "Hey, Tucker, just gettin' outta de rain. Somewhere dry." she calls back to him, offering him a smile.
Sasha starts walking again, head canting at an angle to allow her to keep tabs on everyone. Letting Tucker tag along unless one of the others says otherwise.
(tristan)
He follows James, falling into step easily, and when Sasha speaks to the fang there’s something of a muted growl under his breath that carries no farther then James and Sasha before Tucker gets close. “Correction. We are going someplace out of the rain. He can go fuck himself.”Clear enough of an ‘otherwise’ for everyone? He steals the bottle back from James and tips it back as they move, before passing it to him again. He doesn’t even look Tucker’s way again. There’s not enough JD in the world that will cause him to be civil to him again after last time. Only one person could force him to be so – and that one’s walking in step, walking away.
(james)
"'Fuck you wan' t'nigh', Tuck."another Eagle pack trait, they always leave out "the" don't they...
he's stopped, but not turned
head just tilted slightly towards one dread-covered shoulder
something in him wants to give the Fang a chance
(they used to be pack before the kid betrayed them)
something in him says it would have been better to keep on walking
(if it wasn't for a Fang, you'd be able to speak normally, Jamey-boy)"Too drunk a deba'e wi'h you."
I'm too drunk to deal with the pain you brought last time we talked
(tucker)
Sasha's smile makes his face look like he just won the lottery, she has a way of doing that to a guy.The Ganwer kin, however shakes it almost immeditaly. The only people who've seen this look befor eare Miriam, Hyde, and his grandfather, and more recently, Sasha. He looks like he could cry in that briefest second. Realizing how bad you've hurt somone will do that to a guy.
His former packmate finally, give him a glimmer of hope. Maybe he can convince them that he's got somthing to say. His smile comes back halfway. Second chances will do that to a guy.
"Got somthin'," he looks to each ganwer in turn. "For both of ya." He tugs on the strap of the backpack he's wearing. "Don't wanna ruin it in the rain though." He looks at all three of them in turn. "If ya don't like it you can kick me to the curb, but I promise you will."
(sasha)
Dark lashes, rain-speckled, lower to shadow her eyes, hiding anything reflected in their blue depths. Head cants downward, shielding her face from the pounding rain droplets that prickle over flawless features. Tristan's growl makes her bristle further into her coat. She kept walking, slowly down, only to stop a few inches from James before she slammed into his back.Sasha didn't know what was said the last time they met. She didn't want to know, but she knew James was drunk. And a ahroun, that in itself was a violent combination. Like mixing kerosene with gunpowder, all it needed now was for someone to light a match.
Fortunately, Sasha could dampen the rage, if it flows tonight. She is silent, almost contemplating doing it, but not yet.Bottom lip tucks inward, chewing on it absently, dark brows lift quirk upwards in curiosity at what Tucker could possess. "What's t'at?"
(tristan)
For anyone who knows the kin, they would know it would take something beyond bad to cause him to turn his back on someone. And to keep it turned. For the one who would give his shirt off his back, many times over, to write someone off as not worth his time – most likely, it was more then what was said the first time. It was even more then what was said the second time. Perhaps, the actions of other times play a huge factor in the instinct to keep on walking.Just. Keep. Moving. And never, ever look back.
But James stops. And two steps past him with a muttered curse, so does Tristan, as much as he wants to keep going, he will not leave James, especially in his drunken mood, to stand there alone. Fingers tighten on the handle of his violin case, white-knuckled tight, the muscle in his jaw jumping with the pressure locking his jaw to keep his mouth shut. Dark gaze looks at the rivulets of water sliding along the ground in front of his boots, mentally counting. Fuck 10 – we’re talking from 100. Backwards. In Spanish.
(james)
he's about of the same mind as Tristan, really
perhaps not as severe
(he doesn't care if they never speak to each other again)
but there's definitely a sour note in his moodmoments tick endlessly by as the Ahroun debates with himself
he should kick the Fang to the curb on principle
simply for the actions that got him kicked out of the pack
but instead of a shortened fuse
perhaps the JD has given James some semblance of the compassion he was once known for"Din'r." chin jerks to the neon lights glowing softly across the street, more a hole in the wall than a diner "You got five min't's."
the Fostern is on his way before there's chance of protest
the others can come or wait as they please
and by his tone, James doesn't sound happy about it(tucker)
To Sasha only a raising of eyebrows and, "S'a surprise."He nods. That's fair, honestly he wouldn't have been surpirsed if he'd made the trip for nothing. But he's got five minutes, and they're going to count. [Every second counts when you're doin' what you know is right Tucker.]
He follows James toward the diner, looking once to Tristan. "Need you ta come to." Pause, admission of helplessness. "Please?"
Tucker turns, to keep stride with James. He doesn't look to the kin, he'll make up his own mind and it's his perrogative. But he can't hide the smile on his face when he remarks at the door of the diner.
"You're gonna love this Jamey-boy."
(sasha)
Quiet and patient, traits that show through Sasha's body language now, without judgment or loathing, she looks back at Tucker, jerking her head towards the diner with a small smile.It would be eons before there might be any reconciliation between the Fang and his former pack, the ties that bind had been severed deeply. Any redemption now might be fruitless, however, Sasha tried to be optimistic about people and situations. She starts walking again, following after James, moving up next to Tristan to gently brush his shoulder with her arm, a small display of affection, wolflike.
"C'mon, Tristan, I'll buy all of us sumt'in to eat. Mah treat," she looks at him and then to Tucker. Don't fuck up now...boy.
(Tristan)
James says 5 minutes. And it’s the diner, not the room where he can just appear later assuming it’s ok. Public place also means behaving. For the Kin, most of all, when all he wants to do is shove Tucker’s smiling face through the nearest window.The ‘please’ sets his teeth on edge.
But he follows. And not because of Tucker. Only because of James. Not because of Sasha either. In fact. “I’ve lost my appetite.” That? says it all, to those who know anything of the Gnawer kin. But follow he does, carefully guarding his expression.
(james)
"Am I?"luckily the diner is open seating
James sweeps on past the little greeter woman
and finds themselves a nice comfy booth in the back
one side of the benchseat claimed by the Fostern
the rest can sit where they please or not even sit at all
and he's meeting the Fang's gaze with a wall of steely umber"Five min't'e."
(tucker)
Nod. And don't think because he's smiling he can't sense the tension. It's thick and muddled by the alcohol on their breaths and the Rage crckling like a furnace around them.The bag is quickly slung of his shoulders and unzipped. First are pulled out a carton of cigarettes apiece for the two gnawers. "S'not your gift. Don't worry."
He rummages a bit through the bag, "Tristan.... I wanted to give you this, to give to the kid... I wanted to but when I found out he lost his mate..." He pauses. "I didn't want to open any old wounds, an' since I'm not pack with him.... I figure you can give him this."
How the hell it had gotten into the condo's living room and left, alone on the glass coffe table is beyond Tucker, but he has it now nonetheless.
In front of him he holds a small die cast pewter ring, gold paint half worn off, fake plastice ruby sitting slightly to the side. "Found it in the Condo, when I went back. Think it belonged to Carmen, Kemp should have this."
Two and a half minutes up and he turns to the Ahroun.
(sasha)
Tristan's reaction didn't surprise her at all, shrugging her shoulders, Sasha slips inside the diner, shivering as she unbuttons her coat, peeling it off wet clothed skin. A hand runs through her hair, shaking it free of rain, drifting towards the booth. A spot on the opposite benchseat claimed by the other Fostern, which leads Tristan to choose who he wished to sit with. She leans back against the wall, folding one leg under the other, coat draped in her lap.(tristan)
He sinks to sit on the same side as James – on the edge of the seat, somewhat more sprawled then anything else, and if looks could kill.Add to that the little ring, and his jaw tenses, but he takes it and tucks it into his pocket. Whether or not he’ll give it to Kemp is yet to be determined. He already wears her pendant around his neck, as well as the one worn so briefly by Selphie. For now, he’ll keep it somewhere safe until he makes up his mind.
And still, he remains silent.
(james)
if he knew Kemp even had a mate, much less lost one - it doesn't show
dark eyes glance to the clock and back to Tucker
two point five and counting
every second helping his (formidable) Rage work past the peace-keeping JD barrier(octavio broekemer)
~Octavio walks through the Riverfront district taking in the sights and sounds of the city listening to the whispers on peoples lips taking in everything he can as he walks. He walks with his back straight head up tall and pround his Germanic roots very evident high cheek bones a bit paler then normal skin short black hair is kept perfectly clean his face is smooth and free of all stubble. He is wearing a black turtle neck with black slacks a black leather trench coat and polished black shoes.He stops outside a small diner and looks in the window. Normally he would not eat in dumps like this but at this moment he is hungry and new to the city so he will grace this dump with his magnificent presence. He steps in and does not wait for the waitress he walks in and past any who were waiting for a table and he finds the first open table and takes it, and with the rage rippling under his skin no one decides it worth anything to stop him from doing just that~
(tucker)
"Got somthin' for you too." He exhales forcefully. Reaching into the bag he pulls out a medium sized wooden picture fram and sets it out on the table, facedown. "You remember... back in Jersey, right before everything went ta shit..." He trails off, shaking his head wuickly as if shaking off bad memories. "You remember that new moon we were all out on the balcony, drinking, everythng. Everyone was there; me, you, Decker, Luc, Livingston, Erik, and... Rune..." The word is treaded upon carefully, verbal walking on glass. "Remember how Rune said it was fucked up that we all made it into the same room together for once..." He smiles, a testament to how much he too, had loved his sister. "First time I ever belonged to anything in my entire life." He turns the frame over and slides it across a the table.In the 8 1/2x11 frame, there's a picture, printed in high digital qaulity from Rune's baby. It's taken from the threshold of that sliding door that tuck had walked into the first night he and James had bonded over a drink.
In the closest foreground there is the young Fenrir, that trademark punk assed 'I know somthing you don't know' grin on his face. Lucian, the young one.
Standing over his shoulder looking into the distance is the Rasta-man himself, a half smile not focuses on the camera but off into the distance... serene, peacefull. Livingston, Mystery man.
Decker and Erik sit in the background each to a bar on the railing where it comes at a right angle. Decker's holding a joint and giving Tucker the finger while Erik is eyeing the pot, scarfeaced, yer but not neear as much, he looks younger, less worn down. The terrible two.
James sits at the table in the middle of the picture smiling for everything he's worth, arm over the Beta next to him, cigarette and beer in front of him. James, the compassionate one.
Rune, leans over only a few inches between her and the Gnawer sitting beside her. Her smile was slight, wicked and sexy as all hell. Typical, though looking in hindsight it's fairly easy to tell they're in love. Rune, the smart one, the one who is missed.
"I think this means more to you than it does to me. I think you should have it." His voice breaks and tears well up, though they do not shed, not yet.
Tucker looks across the table at the gnawer, waiting. "You love it, or not?" A stupid question, but an honest one.
Time's up.
(sasha)
Pale blue eyes travel over to the door, drinking in the sight of the new arrival into the diner. A slender brow quirks upward, lifting her chin slightly, canting her head back to touch the thick glass window. The hint of a quiet nobleness shines in her stature and silver-blooded pedigree through the wet, soppy black attire of clinging fishnet and leather dress and nylon feet soaked through from the puddles in her combat boots.Sasha knew about the lost mate and friend, but not about any ring, pendents or jewwlery that Kemp held emotional attachment to. Tucker seems to set Sasha on edge, slightly, waiting with apprehension at what he'll give James.
(tristan)
He looks at the framed picture. Everyone was there – the pack, before the addition of Kemp, and no, everyone isn’t there. No Imogen, no Tristan.But after all. They’re just Kin. (useless) not that it’d matter, he knows where the focus will be – where it should be, and he is not so selfish to think it has anything to do with himself anymore. The packmate loved and lost - the mate he drinks away, tonight and every night. (it is going to be a Very. Long. Night.)
He aches for his brother, he aches for what this picture is going to do to him – no matter if it’s good or bad in the end, it’s the pain he’d love to take away.
However. He remains silent. And turns his gaze away, toward the wash of rage from the door, to the door itself (escape) to something, anything.
(octavio)
~When a waitress comes to his table he looks up at her.~ Finally took your time, I will take a coffee the soup of the day with a clubhouse sandwhich on brown bread toasted double pickles no mayo and don't screw up my order." ~He dismisses her with a wave of his hand~
(james)
there's a part of James that seems as if he's going to push the frame away without even looking at it
the wood smashed in capable hand into proverbial stakes for the Fang's heart
glass shattered as his own heart is, fractured pieces laying against the cage of his ribsfor a long time, the Fostern just looks at the picture
really looksit's the Eagle pack in its prime
how they all once were, before those dear were lost
one night without bickering or weights tossed around
a rare moment without their overwhelming Ragesomething in him swells to see the familiar faces again
something in him breaks harder and louder than he's ever imagined possible
calloused fingertips trace over the glass
dark, unfathomable eyes following their path
pausing over each packmate in turn
lingering on one he'll never admit to in public(Gaia, his heart shatters everytime he thinks about her, convincing himself it's easier to move on and wake up every morning under the misconception she's never going to return home, that's she's forgotten about him and is serving her duty to the Great Mother - he hasn't seen her picture for nine fucking months, he hasn't allowed himself to search for it because all it does is refresh her presence in his very soul and make him realize she is the sole reason he chose to carry on instead of giving up all those moons ago... and to be faced with her now... seeing that wicked, wicked red smile, the glint in dark, depthless eyes... he can remember how her scent weaves intoxicating incense through the smokey vestiges of his mind, the feeling of her flesh scorching against his own, the sound of her latent pulse slowing to safe sleep beside him, how a single look made him feel so alive again...)
for minutes, the Ahroun forgets about the diner surrounding him
the kin and garou at the table with him
even the presence of another Warrior within the questionable eatery
he's lost in the past captured in the digital picture
so lost, he forgets how to breath
so lost, he almost couldn't find his voice
and when he does, it's barely a whisper"Who took't."
(tucker)
"I did." Quiet, low, somber.The Silver Fang, for all of his breeding, can't match the other man's eyes. He can't look into the face of pain he knows is there, so he stares at the table.
And yes, he is crying now. No sobs, but silent tears for the lost and the fallen, and for what he has lost himself.
(sasha)
Left hand stretches out to lay her palm flat on the table, the line of sinewy muscle, from shoulder to wrist, coiling beneath a fishnet sleeve, as the fingers curl inward to form a loose fist. Her head drops foward, fixating pale blue orbs on the Gnawers, reading the subtle emotional signs displayed through body language and facial expressions. It causes her brows to furrow deeply, setting lips in a grim line.Nostrils flare out, cuffing warm breath into the air, in a soft snort. Tension lined her body, cautious and ready, to move.
However, there was no need to move, but Sasha doesn't relax, instead the frown upon her face deepens even more, until slender black eyebrows are touching at the corners. Her expression one of concern and confusion, quickly snapping her eyes up at Tucker with a questioning look of who are they? The curiosity gnawering at her to lean over and steal a quick peek. Some images recognizable and others not, finally, she looks up at James, before her gaze tears away to see the weeping Tucker. "Ah fuck..." she breathes out in a sigh.
(decker)
In another part of town, not in front of the diner, but not far either, Decker's Tacoma is parked over the bend of the river. It's been there for a while, the engine cooled, the tires cooled, the interior cold as the night outside.There's barely any hills in Chicago, but this passes as one: a bluff twenty or thirty feet over the river, the edges barred and crumbling slowly away by force of erosion. The river has cracked and melted, runs silent and black now. Cold snaps still come around, but not often enough and not cold enough to freeze water to ice again. There are trees planted here, stunted naked things reaching for the sky with bare branches as gnarled as an old woman's hands.
Wind whips cool through the layers he wears, the denim and the cotton, the sweatshirt, the skecher knockoffs. He's in the bed of the truck, back to the cabin. Rolling windows are up but the back window's slid open, 'cause she's in the backseat, back to back with him across a layer of metal, or maybe back to the door, facing his one-quarter profile. Seems it's always like this. If they weren't fighting, they couldn't bear the nearness of one another, except when they couldn't bear distance any longer. As if to stay close, side by side, quiet, would be too much to ask. As if the dual burn of rage, pure breeding -- hell, excuses, all; as if the burn of their closeness, their mutual (what? acceptance? existence? need?) silence, would be too much to bear.
A quiet moment, the moon waned past the half. Wind in the trees makes a sound like sighing. His chest rises and falls with a long breath like a sigh, not quite. He reaches through the window to pass his joint to her if she wanted it, and he can feel the drug unfurling through his limbs like a slow, languid heat ameliorating the ceaseless mad burn of rage.
Tip his head against the outside of the glass and look up: clouds scudding the sky, blotting out the stars. For all he knew he'd never see them again. For all he knew tomorrow the sun would rise black and the skies would burn red, and the stars will fall one by one. Sometimes if he lets himself think about it, he's ashamed because he fears the end. Sometimes, it feels like it doesn't really matter. He still had a little time. He still had enough time.
(tristan)
He wants to reach for him, he wants to do more then sit here, and understand. He wants...He wants to know Tucker’s motivations. The picture is a nice gesture. The fact he’s using it as an attempt to gain entrance back into the fold is not. The fact that he chose now to give it is suspect. The fact he has it at all... and wrapped around all of that in a strangle hold is how much he aches for his friend, how very much he understands the way his thoughts are meandering around now, how very much it hurts. So much so he can’t breathe.
(Diego came back from the dead...but too late. God how much he understands.)
And the tears? He’s seen them before. It’s an attempt to bring it all back on himself, to circle it all around what the fang has lost instead of what he has taken away from others. And for that, Tristan perhaps hates him a little bit more – something he didn’t think was possible.
But through it all. Silent. Waiting. Soon – his brother will want to leave, and he not will leave without Tristan by his side tonight.
(octavio)
~He slowly looks around the diner and spots the crying table and almost laughs at a joke in his own mind but doesn't he just moves on from the public display of weakness as the waitress sets down his coffee he takes a sip~(james)
"I 'member...." there's almost a laugh there, after a thoughtful time, aching in its chiding sorrow "Think tha' th' las' time I smile' like tha'."the volume of such an admission matches the downward cast of his eyes
unlike his former packmate, deep umber is still (frighteningly) dry
memory's absent murmur drifting like some rogue wind
easy enough to be forgotten by those that do not pay attention
unmistakably searing (treasonous) truth to those that do
(can you hear his soul screaming...)"'preciate it, Tuck." if the gesture won any ground back into the Fostern's good graces, it doesn't show, his expression (his goddamned aura) is absolutely blank, even if the words are genuine "Thank'."
knee nudges against Tristan's
and when the kinfolk moves
the Gnawer heads for the door
stopping only long enough to secure a plastic "to-go" bag from the cashier
just to ensure the picture doesn't get wet on the way.... wherever
cause if it's still raining outside
James, for one, doesn't notice it(octavio)
~His soup comes next and he begins to eat the soup quietly he adds a bit of salt but he eats it once its done he pushes the bowl to the side for her to pick up~ Another coffee.(tucker)
"No problem, I just... when I found out...and the other night... I thought you might want it." He gives him the look, the one that everyone who's experienced this kind of loss knows. The one that says simply I know. "Tell Decker I said hello."He wipes his eyes and puts his arm around Sasha, hugging her close with the tree trunk, eyes still searing. When the other two are out the door it turns into a full on bear hug, sobbing a bit into her shoulder. Whispering.
"I miss them all...so fuckin' much."
Clarity of thought is a good thing, but it leads the way to guilt. Doing his best to reapir that is all he can do. Pack or not, they're the closest thing the Fang's had to family in a long, long time.
(sasha)
"G'night, James... Tristan..." calling after the Gnawers, expecting Tristan to follow after him with hesitation. She pulls the damp coat out of her lap, turning around to face the table. Elbows press onto the surface, rubbing her hands over her face, leaning her forehead into the palm of her hands.Dark lashes close over pale blue orbs, trying to supress the shivers that race through her from the damp clothes. She just couldn't seem to warm up quick enough.
(imogen)
Strange how they get to this point. Where he'd gotten out of the cab and eventually, into the truck bed. Or that she'd gotten out of the truck bed, and into the back, setting her back against the door, the echoes of the wind within the cabin, a blow of it warm of spring, but still cold enough that she draws her jacket around her, fabric rustling in the near silence.She takes the joint when offered, reaching up to pluck it from his fingers, take a hit, and pass it back across the divide.
It's not an act that will likely be repeated again, because even if he did offer again, she probably wouldn't take it. Or, it simply won't be repeated because now, she's getting out, and hearing good as his, he can hear her exhale, hear her jeans against the back seat of the tacoma. Hear the passenger side door click as she catches the handle with a hand and pushes it open. Hear her walk a few steps away, to light a cigarette.
The road is not often used and is cracked. Winters in Chicago are hard on pavement and concrete. Cold and then thaw cracks the surface, assisting plants to work their way up through the fissures. One even survived the winter in that it is still somewhat whole, brown and wilted, in the hibernation of plants. Her boot scrapes against concrete as she nudges it, the scent of mustier cigarette smoke adding to the scent of his joint. Her eyes on the ground as his are on the sky.
(tristan)
Knee nudges against his, and he stands, the violin hefted in his hand. He takes the cigarettes too. They’ll need them tonight. He still has the remains of the bottle. They’ll need that and the one he’ll pick up on the way.. to wherever... as well. Expression is frighteningly blank on the Ahroun, and his own is a turbulent mass of conflicting emotion.There’s a level gaze that rests on Tucker, but the touch is for Sasha, gentle, to her shoulder. Murmured. “Run by and let Kemp know I’m with James, please.” And that’s it. Not another word – he’s following his brother out into whatever weather there is at the point in time long strides falling easily into step with James.
(octavio)
~He sits and waits for his sandwhich and sips his coffee his eyes flcik to Tucker and Sasha now for a brief second then he stoped caring about that table and looksat his coffee which was more intresting at the moment~(james)
once outside, James simply picks a direction and starts walking
STA. LKING
down the cememnt pathway that will, ultimately, lead somewhere he hopefully wants to be
he kept himself together within the diner
he didn't break down, he didn't freak out
the street itself is another fucking matter
with the carton in one inner coat pocket
the framed picture safely in another
he outright snatches the bottle from his bro
(apologies will come later)
whatever's left in it disappears down the Ahroun's gullet
and the empty bottle flung to SMASH against some undeserving wall
(probably no apologies will be offered, there)(sasha)
"I will, Tristan..." she calls back to him, lifting her head up to look over Tucker at the kin, watching them leave.Her eyes turn down to look at Tucker, who bear hugged her in the booth. She lowers her head once more, into her hands, eyes closed again.
"Tucker, git de fuck off me." she murmurs in a soft, hoarse tone, "I'm already soaked to de bone." pitch-black, damp tendrils of hair spilled forward to curtain her face, hiding the deep furrowed frown that caused slender brows to touch once more.
(tucker)
"Mmmm... sorry." Tinge of hurt in his voice."Can we go home?" He sniffs, hand wipes eyes eyes with it's back. "I just need some company..but I don't wanna be the weirdo crying in a diner." He tries to smile, unsuccessfully at the beautifull Coggie.
(decker)
He looks comfortable in the bed of the truck, despite that the plastic-lined metal is anything but. It's bed in the older sense of the word: bed of a river. Bed of a truck. Bed, that which holds, cradles, supports, bears. But damned if he hasn't spent a night or more sleeping in one.Her quitting the truck cabin turns his head. She's petite, slender; she doesn't weigh much, but she still sets the truck rocking slightly as she leaves it. He watches her move away, half-slouched in the bed as he is, and doesn't bother to move with her.
She smokes. He smokes. They say nothing.
Moments pass. Clouds pass. A hint of moon. A glimpse of sky. A touch of rain dusting his forehead, cheekbones. He finishes his joint and crushes it out on the top of the toolbox, jettisons it off the edge. She can hear him moving, see it: popping his knuckles one fist inside the other palm, one at a time. Then looking over at her, across the muscled expanse of shoulder, across the width of truck-bed, over the siding.
"Y'ever want 'em?" - quiet: that should no longer be a surprise. Tongues his molar a moment. Reaches across to scratch; left hand, right shoulder. Finishes, "Kids."
(tristan)
He falls into step. Close, but not too close, and never, ever far away. And no apologies will be needed – regardless of if they are offered or not, and he well expects the contents to be devoured. He flinches a bit at the flinging smash, but still remains quiet for a few more moments.Finally, the lights flickering ahead announce Al’s Li uor and he breaks the silence onto to suggest. “I’ll get more up there.” For him, for them both, enough to get through tonight.
(sasha)
Again, her head rests in the palm of her hands, unmoved. "Tucker, slide over to de other booth, please." spoken in the same soft, hoarse tone, the smile never registered by her eyes. She won't look at him.The soft swells of her chest rise and fall with a change of breathing, taking in deep, long intakes, straining against damp fishnet and leather dress, which feels too constricting at the moment.
"If'n ya haven't noticed yar de weirdo cryin' right now in de diner."
(tucker)
"Okay, but i'm good now." His hands some away from red eyes to show that yes, the outburst is over.The Fang stands and walks around the table, stting across from the Child of Gaia. "S'this okay?"
He looks at her, silently for a few seconds. "You mad at me for somthing?" He's on edge and one can tell, not ready to snap, more just ready to give up. Defeatist tone ringing through his voice.
(imogen)
The question, maybe should not surprise her either, but it does cause her to turn her head and look at him, abruptly, over the curve of her shoulder, offering him her features in profile, half obscured by several strands of hair, spilling forward with the movement. It's only that gesture that's quick, sudden, the tension of it taken away by the slower way she lifts the cigarette back to her mouth, and the slower way she looks away."It hardly seems t'--" smash, and her head turns again, this time toward the sound of glass smashing against a wall, flung in a specific direction, hurled against a wall. There's hardly anywhere here that isn't close to a city block, and the Fenrir and Fianna happened to be close to James and Tristan's city block.
Her sentence trails off (it's hardly believeable she'd be easily distracted), eyes narrowing as she tries to confirm familiar forms just too far away for detail.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMMarch 10, 2004.03.10.04. - lost [decker-imogen-tucker-tristan-sasha-nahi][riverfront]
(decker)
He must do this just to piss her off.Wednesday evening and her neighbors are coming home, except not a single one of them take the front door. Why? Because there's a wolf at the door.
Not literally, no. But it damn well feels like it to everyone who passes that way. More than a few use the exact phrase in their mutterings. Where did he come from? Sitting there like a wolf at our door. He should go back where he belongs.
One Fenrir Modi sitting with his back to the automatic locking door under the awning. One pair baggy dark blue jeans, his inner-city hakama, under one worn grey sweatshirt zipped up to his chest. One layer of cotton shirt stretched across imposingly broad shoulders, thick chest. One pair battered skecher-knockoffs. One j--no, thank god, it's a cigarette.
One of James'. And no, the wolf at the door is not alone.
(james)
no, the wolf at the door is not alone
so what does it mean when a pack lays in wait
urban barbarians setting up camp just beyond the proverbial gates?
seeking some semi-substantial shelter beneath the awning
looking just as at ease as if they were outside their own cave instead of in the city's central lightunlike his packmate and counterpart
James does not do this to piss her off
in fact the very last thing he wants to do is piss. her. off.
he's already been at the recieving end of that action, thank you very much
and even if he hasn't felt the full brunt of it
he could very well live his life without and feel just dandy
he, instead, simply revels in the proximity of packshaved and shorn versus tangle of raggedy dreads
bundled and zipped up contrasted to a rather comfortable sprawl
patchwork trench dripping like artist's conglomeration of paint down the steps
smear of faded color melting around twin points of dull black bootshe didn't ask why Decker stole one of his smokes
but you can bet there's amusement shaping the smoke rings drifting towards the sky(imogen)
Doors push open. It's got something to do with fires and panic. When the world panics, the last thing you want is a mob pressing around you as you try to pull open the goddamned door.And so. Doors push open. And so. This door. Pushes open. Decker Rohl probably had some warning. The click of the inner handle, the kind that pushes in to disable the lock. Or even the sound of her hand pressing against the door, heard through the glass. Or more, the honed and animalistic feeling of something at his back, counteracted by the more pleasant air of her breeding. Even without that, it seems like it's her without looking. Out of the entire building, she is the only one who is (should be) able to walk up to the door and face the wolves.
She's dressed for work, coming from work, of course, her jacket some fine suede that cuts past her hips, the fall of her suit jacket, just slightly longer, visible along the edges, black slacks that are smooth and almost unwrinkled. The jacket is buttoned, but one can imagine a blouse beneath, and a pager at her hip. In one hand, she holds a brief case, and with the other, she holds the door.
"One of these days," it's a familiar threat, really, "someone's goin' t'call th' police," says the slender formed kinfolk, her gaze resting for a moment on the Modi, before shifting to James and including him in the comment.
That someone might do this to piss her off (and the knowledge thereof) might be precisely why she doesn't get pissed off.
Or perhaps she considers this better than loitering at door 907, scaring her more immediate neighbours, rather than the building as a whole.
(decker)
One's sprawled.The other's crouched, knees open, feet wide, wrists on kneecaps, watching the street through eyes accustomed to scanning the flat hazy horizon of the Gulf.
Door opens behind him and he doesn't need to move; he's on the steps, she's on the landing. Door's on the landing and they don't make it so that you have to stand on a step to get it open. Not here, one of these classy uptown places. Wonder where the guard went? That's one long coffee break.
He grunts, unimpressed by her threat, perhaps because it's not a threat at all, but a statement of fact. Now if she'd said one of these days I'm going to call the police, they'd have themselves a show.
But, no.
"Goin' to work?" He doesn't bother turning. Across the street there's a storefront, closed, dark, and in it he can vaguely see her reflection as an impression of slenderness, of glorious hair, of the familiar economical gesture of her hand pushing that hair back behind her ear. Slim elbow tucked in, ladylike: that aunt of hers, her teachings still carry through. Or maybe it's Imogen herself, and maybe it isn't so much a question of ladylike as it is a question of conservation. Conserving space, energy, time.
He blows smoke out and its fuzzes the image, then rips away in the wind.
(james)
the Modi probably had some warning
as did the other full moon
which is precisely what has him turning his headfocus of attention independant of the storefront reflection across the way
unmarred by flagrant winds and curtains of coiling smoke
instead greeting by the porchlight igniting a halo of fire around her skull
acid trail comet tails of embrous flame waxing poetic by pushing hand
swimming through the backwash of sulpherous aura sizzling down from the flood
ebb tide trickling lonely patterns down towards the deliberate tailoring of workshoes
(too bad you _don't_ have the good drugs on you, Jamey-boy)lopsided grin shot back to Imogen's comment from the frame of junglevine dreads
(imogen)
The door half closed with the gesture of her hand, the careless thoughtless pushing back of flame hued strands, catching the door with her foot before it can quite close completely. Small movements. Everything about Imogen is slight, from the delicate almost fragile seeming bones of her frame and height, to her motions, always useful, never wasted.Hair tucked away from her face again (temperary and one does not have to know her well to know this; her hair is chaos, despite her efforts to otherwise), she has a hand free for the door again.
"No," she says, "I'm comin' t'get yeh offa my front doorstep," that it's a thousand other people's front door steps is beside the point or perhaps exactly the point. "Unless yeh like the view?" she inquires to Decker's crouched back.
James is cast a smirk, brief and wry for his unrepentant grin.
(decker)
Decker makes an aspirated sound that touches, just skims on a chuckle. Cigarette caught against teeth by the tip of his tongue, he flicks a glance over his shoulder. Which makes it sound quick, fleeting, even shy - but it's not.Slow, steady, ground to crown and back again, and all the while half-turned so only the consummately germanic lines of his profile are visible over the rumpled hood and the line of his shoulder.
Tapping ash, smirking, "Do now."
Yeah, she set that one up.A pause. Cigarette caught between two fingers of one hand, he picks at the filter with the other. Then raises his head, squinting down the street though the sun's set already, and the long northern twilight is fading behind the buildings. "James'n I was passin' through."
(james)
"Look' like a comf'ble place a res' a bit'n soak up th' view."unrepetant grin cast a smirk and hooked with a unabashed comment
she set it up - they'll roll with it
the Gnawer may even have learned something in the year-plus interim of their acquaintance
for that line was delivered as deadpan dry as any she's ever given them
well of course he'll smile and nod and go along with it
just like they meant it all the time"Wash twiligh' fay 'n nigh' blank't th' lan' 'neath obsid'n waves." negligently teasing eyes strafe around the block, noting how empty it is in comparison to the horizon pinpointed by a cigarette scissored between two mostly gloved fingers "Neighb'rs'r missin' a hell'va show....."
(imogen)
A scoff, low in her throat at the line delivered by both, "Right," another woman might have rolled their eyes. Her gaze flicks to follow James's gaze toward the sky and horizon, the sunset in the west. Things poet's write about. It's also things poet's might use as a comparison for her hair, though it's not quite accurate. Nature does not often capture the colour of sunsets in other things. Nature does not often capture this particular shade and hue of her hair in other things."Hmm." Answer to James, but dulled and stripped of meaning, more an acknowledgement than anything, that yes she heard him. Or maybe yes, it's very nice in a way that meant she perhaps didn't really understand. What's magical about a sunset. Or a sunrise.
"Neighbours," she notes, "are takin' th'garage exit, mutterin' about things like hoodlums on th'front step, an' won't th'super do anythin' about it?
"So I suppose they would be missing it," smirk twists again, brief, and perhaps she grew tired of holding the door open, so instead she steps out and to the side allowing the door to start to swing shut, her hand reaching into an outer pocket of the brief case, finding the keys.
(decker)
Decker snorts. A frisson of annoyance rises and falls, breaks the surface of his (?)calm(?) like a razorbacked fish, flickering silverbright, and submerges again. "Yeah alright. Got tha fuckin' point."He throws the cigarette out into the street overhand, a snap of the wrist, crisp and taut. Then he stands up.
No pushing off. No steps to it. Just one motion, and his feet don't even move. Dusts off his ass and then scans the street. They're out of their turf here, but that didn't matter. Home of his mate was his land by a wolf's reckoning; though Imogen would never agree to that, and he doesn't even think of it that way, some part of him is instinctively comfortable here.
This land he owns and defends.
This woman he owns and defends....or something like that. We all have our pleasant fictions. "C'mon," he says to James. Then a glance at Imogen - "You too?"
(james)
Decker got the point
James got the point
Decker huffs a snort
James. just. smiiiiiles.there's something that's changed in the mellow guttermutt
it's happened in the course of the last... year... or so
perhaps months ago he would have been understanding to the neighbor's plight
a compensation decreed in his mind to their animal intrusion
now? he just notes they're missing the show by taking the garage escape routetoo bad. so sad. thank you, drive through.
gaze flicks, and he considers barking a response to the pesudo-command
(yes massah)
but instead weight heaves in a far less graceful amalgum of standing upright
it's a collection of hinges and ballasts to supplicate his frame's change of position
dregs of his coat swirling aftershock about Cochran ankles
tangle of hair rearranging itself in commentary to gravity's pull
slow and steady tattoo of soles down the cold steps
taking body from sprawl to lanky stretch(mighty Imogen of the resident people, only SHE in her greatness can cast away the ruffian scoundrels hunkering about our front steps..... bow down to her power you meek excuse for a super!)
deep umber eyes lay on the horizon
back momentarily turned to the mated pair
(they watch each other, he watches their backs)
butted smoke flicked to a puddle wandering down the gutter(imogen)
It wasn't exactly how she meant it, but Imogen is easily misunderstood. It's perhaps easier because she's not inclined to be offended by it. It's perhaps harder because she never bothers to correct misinterpretations unless she has no choice. She has a choice now.There's perhaps a moment, briefly as Decker's annoyance ripples and Imogen's gaze flicks his way as he stands, a silent appraisal that somewhere along the way, she'd learned to make illegible.
She shakes her head briefly at the offer, "I have some things t'do," she says with a slight lift of her shoulders, a shrug that is easy. "I'll see yeh both about." She pulls her keys free of her brief case, and they click together softly as she raises a hand in a vague gesture of farewell, stepping back toward the door.
(decker)
Just a nod up for her hand-raise of farewell. He pushes his own hands into his pockets, thumbs hooked on the rim. Watches her go back in through the door; watches her til the elevator doors close on her. Must be uncomfortable being on the receiving end of a stare that steady, that unwavering, that unabashed.What, staring is rude? Someone forgot to tell him.
Then a sniff. A hand lifts to rub at his nose. He didn't drive, he walked. So he starts walking again.
"The Quick think they kin find tha Caern," he says without much preamble. Business. "'S what the git-togetha's about. Fer them, 'least. We gotta tell 'em 'bout the Pyrells. 'N check what the Crows're up to with that warehouse shit." Pause, a glance sideways at his packmate, one of the oldest members of Eagle's group and likely the closest to him. "Where ya been?"
(james)
head turn, dark glance, chin life - Eagle version of farewell, it seems
and whatever paused moments they had surrounded in night's blanket and firey halos is gone
banished to the very darkness that consumes them like nothing more than razed smoke
back to business as usualfacts and figures click into the fullmoon's mind like clockwork
filed away with nothing more than a nod to signifiy their storage
(sounds like a plan, boss)
and the motions constructing the liberation of another Camel from the pack
the question gets a glance - then a shift of his eyes away
excused by the necessity of making sure he lights the smoke instead of his dreads"Los'."
nothing until the first exhale of bitter smoke, and to the ears of his packmate - quite possibly the single Garou that's known him longest in this life since leaving New York and the one that may even be able to understand him clearest - the answer sounds as much an explanation as question
strikingly, even James is unsure where he's been
(imogen)
And gone. It's impossible not to feel the weight of Decker's gaze. Something to do with rage or her own instinct, but it prickles the back of her neck and is almost tangible.She doesn't look back, however until she's inside the elevator, and turning back inevitable.
Doors close. She returns to whatever it is she might be doing.
(tristan)
Wednesday night, late, and the pretty boi is closing up shop. The remnants of music hangs crystalline on the air, then fades away as he talks with those who had stopped and listened, talked and donated to the ‘build the pretty boi’s a new house’ fund. Good natured laughter, teasing, and he connects with his regulars as he always has, which is why they continue to come and listen, and empty their pockets of change.A young girl, who should be home in bed, instead is stuck out with the harried mom finally making her way home from work – she’s been listening, wide-eyed, and almost buries herself behind mom’s skirts when Tristan crouches down to say hello. A few moment’s talk, and he nods, waving the girl closer and lifting the violin again. With a chuckle, he hands it over to the girl, explaining with infinite patience how to hold it, where to put her fingers, then helps her pull the bow across the strings. A bit of fumbling later, and she’s managed a pretty good mary had a little lamb.
He grins and takes the violin back, tucks one of the little girls curls back behind her ear, before standing to continue his talk with mom. Number exchanged, a shy smile from the girl, boyish grin and wink from the pretty boy, and he crouches behind his case again to start collecting the days earnings, tucking away his baby into safety once more.
(tucker)
Breathing is a chore at this point. A bad night indeed on the road to rehab. The big bad silver wolf huffs and puffs down the street, pausing when he turns a corner to see two familiar faces a block ahead coming towards him.Head down into the wind, he surges forward, waiting until he's caught up to offer, "Hey."
(decker)
Just quiet.Just walking. One foot in front of the other. His gait is markedly different from James' easy groundeating amble, tauter-looser at the same time, lower, a muscled and coiled stalk where the joints swing loose but the steps are cushioned and toned, balanced and aware.
Doesn't glance sideways this time. Awareness of pack makes such gestures unnecessary. Looks to the left as James looks to the right; looks ahead to see Tucker.
"Y'found now?" low, under the breath, before Tucker catches up.
And when the other does, he gets only a steely stare. Did he expect different?
(james)
Hope so.the answer is in the voice of the Bone Gnawer Decker once knew
soft-spoken and capable of some shiney pure joy
words that formed in the shadow of an easy, thoughtless smile
it echoes a lost memory in packmate minds
not the broken, gutteral slur that stumbles through their ears"Hey."
the Modi offers a steely stare
James, as PR man, takes a step further an introduces vocalizations to the encounter
even if the word is as welcoming as a brick wall
cutting past his teeth like guillotine's final plunge
blunt force trauma reflecting the raise of invisable hackles(is it personal, or is it simply Tucker's totemic disgrace....)
(kemp)
He'd find Tristan even if he were underwater. Mumbling to himself while searching out the Kinfolk. As long as Tris didn't have that Una, Uno, Ohno, god please not again, with him, then the world would be peachy keen for a little bit.(tristan)
Kemp would find him no matter where he is. It’s the mom thing, really – though some days, there’s no telling who is taking care of whom. At least the bandages are gone, the stitches are gone, he’s pretty much in tip top shape again.Which only means there’s some wyrmy foe waiting right around the corner to see just how pretty the Kinfolk’s skin turns when bruised and battered. Either that, or there’s the ex-mate in town, hoping he’s happy, yet equally hoping that something goes wrong and he can pick up the pieces. Or there’s pregnant kinfolk afraid to stay with the father of the baby. Or even better, someone reminding you of your place. Or there’s the fact their house is missing a back wall, and for two Gnawer kin with no money whatsoever, repairing is going slow and finding a new place must wait until then and when the other half of the pretty boi duo is not willing to stay at the pack house.....
Well.
Let’s just return to counting change, hm? Count he does, scooping it up into the little felt bag made specially for said coins, the bills counted and tucked into the pocket, before the case is closed, locked, and hefted as lean form stretches to stand again.
(tucker)
"How ya been?" Trying to ignore the harsh look from Deacker and the overtone in James' statement.His arms, visible by the pulled up sleeves on his hoodie, are covered in scratch marks, most breaking the skin. His hair however is newly cut and he's cleans shaven. He's shifting, foot to foot, antsy. The scrathing starts again over the cold sweat on his exposed skin.
(kemp)
At least the kid he had been with when he turned up, left with it's mother. Letting out a long relieved breath. A girl , god save me from women, girls, females, anything with plumbing different from mine. Just the very thought made him twitch. "Thought I'd find you around here somewhere." A look past Tristan, then back to him. "It's got a home, right?"(tristan)
“Same time same place, every night of the week. How else am I supposed to keep you fed.” Grinned as he reaches out to grab Kemp into a on armed hug before letting him go and mussing his hair fondly.There’s a blink, however, slight, as he turns to follow the direction of Kemp’s gaze, head tipped, then back to his boy as he pushes unruly curls away from his face again. “.....it?”
(decker)
Life makes monsters of us all.And Decker and James, different as they are, are still a unified front. When you're a part of the pack you don't realize it so obviously. You know it. You feel it in your bones, the connection. But it's subconscious, thoughtless.
For Tucker, it must be a shock to be stripped of that bond, and yet to see it between the two Garou before him. The way they stand unconsciously to protect one another's weak points. The way their differences seem to complement. The way their totem is echoed in the hard stares even beneath lazy lids; the way their bond is displayed in a shared vigilance.
The Modi says, flatly, "Cut tha crap, Tuck. Fuck you want?"
(kemp)
"That, that, that, It. Girl, female, It! Sour look on his face like he just took a drink of lemonaid after eating a dill pickle.(sasha delacroix)
Girls. Females. Lord someone save Kemp from the bane of Mankind... He probably didn't see the femme stalking up behind him. He might have smelled the sweet scent of honeysuckle flowers that clung to her skin, however, or feel her silver-blooded pedigree, but Sasha continues to sneak up behind him and toss an arm around his shoulders to glomp him in a hug."Evenin', mes amis!" she calls out with chuckle. Sweet voice rolling words off her tongue like honey, so hard to resist a beautiful face like hers.
(tristan)
He.... blinks. And then just laughs. “Oh god – please, kiddo. I don’t bring home every stray puppy. And yes, she’s got a home, and an interest in learning violin, and lesson’s pay much more then street corners, and I can use the cash. So yes - She has a home.”And then he’s chuckling with Sasha’s appearance, tossing her a wink. “Evening, Sasha. How’s tricks?”
(james)
deep umber eyes drop
it's not an act of submission
instead he's picked up the Modi's ability to look down at people
(odd, that, coming from a Bone Gnawer)
studying the damage on Tucker's arms
but for once in perhaps all the time the Fang has known him
when those eyes lift, for the injury there is absolutely. no. compassion.
(eagles' mighty wings CRACK unfurled with righteous fury)"Better'n you."
spoken from behind the Camel clenched between his teeth
the Modi's stare may be lazy, but James' is hungry for blood
(how long has he been a monster and none of them knew....)
perhaps the only thing holding him back is the very bond Tucker can no longer feel
remaining at the Modi's side instead of....(kemp)
Stiffening with the hug from behind. "Stop calling me messy miss." Grumbling, rounding his shoulders. "I ain't no sloppy girl." They were out to kill him, kill him slowly by driving him insane. Women, females, girls. Going to drive him completely over the edge. At this rate, he was going to be a gay monk in 2.3 seconds flat.(tucker)
"I just wanted ta talk, s'at so bad?" He's staring it his feet now, still scrathing slowly, moving quicker on his forearm at random intervals. Fingernails dragging skin along with them."Just because I'm some kind of fuck up doesn't mean..." He can't find the words to finish the sentence's end. His spirit rails against it's bindings wanting desperatly to be one with those of the two men in front of him once more.
"Sorry, if I'm botherin' ya. Just wanted to fuckin' see yous guys again." Jersey speech pattern gives way to Jersey memories.
[Jitter. Jitter. Pain. Jitter. Tweak.]
(sasha)
"Oh, Kemp, shugah. It's not messy miss. It's French. It means 'my friends'." Sasha couldn't help it as she chuckles, winking over at Tristan. "So, Kemp, brace ya'self for girl cooties." she warns him, "I'm doin' fine, Tristan, ain't de bella a little young for ya tastes?" points to the girl.
(decker)
That southern drawl is as cool as it is slow, "Ain't got nothin' to talk 'bout, Tucker."Getting shut out hurts. But hell, the Eagles were never known for their compassion. 'Cept maybe James. Once. No longer.
He's never stopped walking, and he keeps on walking. Tristan's little group is visible up ahead now, where Addison draws the line between the swankier parts of uptown and the beginning of the warehouse district.
(kemp)
"I got enough cooties. I sure as hell don't need anything to do with girls. If I never see another girl in my life, I will be perfectly happy. Don't need the pain in the ass that comes with them." Giving Tristan a cross-eyed look with a faint nod back like, do something with her, will ya?(tristan)
Blinks again, and laughs – how could she not know? He’d have been sure that his sin against the nation has been well broadcast at this point. “Actually, she wants violin lessons, and she’s not only too young, but entirely too.... female... for my tastes.”He can’t help but chuckle at Kemps look and shrugs slightly in that yeah, like what am I supposed to do? Let her hang on me? kinda way.
(kemp)
Making one of those faces that suggests that Tristan should do exactly that, take the female off of him and do something with it. "He don't need no stinking girl. He's already got them crying on his doorstep, making twisted stories."(sasha)
"Tell you want, shugah. I ain't a girl." arm still thrown across Kemp's shoulders, watching the exchange of looks between Kemp and Tristan. "I'm a woman. T'ere's a big difference."Sasha blinks, "What de hell for?"
(kemp)
"Samething, got tits, got the start of them, thinking about them and lacking a dick, it's female. I ain't interested." Reaching up to move her arm off of him. "I've got other things to do. Like, getting run over by a train."(james)
Eagle was supposed to give James compassion
...... what happened?the Gnawer's expression curls with distaste
smelling the shit that's sweating out of Tucker's flesh
and if that don't beat all - maybe there's a glint of vengeance in deep umber because of it"Nuh. We got s'mthin' a talk 'bout." smile widens. vicious. "Step inna my office, Tuck."
fist wraps in the Fang's lapel
he's as much guided as thrown into a nearby alley(tucker)
"Fine Decker I'll jus- whaa!" A bit if a cry out as he's tugged off balance and stumbling into the alley way."What's this about, man? What'd I do to you?" Brushing himself off a bit.
(nahimana laughing coyote)
Nahimana walks nearly silently down the street, her hands tucked into the pockes of her soft buckskin pants, the fringe sways with her movements, the bead work gints softly in the street light(tristan)
He reaches out and snags Kemp as he shoves off Sasha, winking at her as he very obviously places himself between the two of them. He pushes curls from his eyes, glancing down the way just in time to see Tucker shoved off by... James? Well then. There’s a fond smile just that glimpse of his brother brings unbidden to his lips, before he turns back to Sasha. “Ah, he’s referring to a bit of family who’s in a spot of trouble. And he’s certain that I am too soft hearted in dealing with her.”(decker)
Decker doesn't even seem surprised when James suddenly hauls Tucker off. Pack bonds allow packs to move in perfect synchrony - did you really think he wouldn't feel the potential for violence before it surfaced?He does, however, slow and turn to watch.
(sasha)
"Uh-huh..." both hands drop to rest on hips. Dressed in her usual attire of black fishnet bodysuit, leather strapless dress and combat boots. Knee-length coat draped around her wiry frame. She shakes her head at Kemp, smirking at Tristan's rescue.(james)
"Ain't what you dun a me."in the patterned shadows within the alleyway
the voice seems to growl out of the darkness
speech coming before the figure erupts into oblique light
chasing pace making the trench billow about his legs
matching the dreads that catch tailwind and rise leviathan possessed
backing the Fang further and further into the depths between walls
scifi lyrical as it may be - it matches the dangerous burn in moist earth eyes"S'what you said 'bout my kin."
the Fostern an earthquake looking for a building to shake down
(kemp)
"Ya know how I'll die?" He had to turn to see what Tristan was looking at. "Women. I will die a horrible, painful death and it will be some woman, a pack of women, an army of them, or maybe just the fart of one that kills me." Glancing back with a curt nod.(tristan)
He chuckles at Kemp and grins at Sasha. “Better stay away from the Park then, boyo... seems a few Furies have moved in, and they tend to eat those of us with manhoods for breakfast.”He’s still watching the alley somewhat, curious, but well – he’ll just stay right here. “What brings you down this way Sasha?”
(kemp)
"Yeah well, normally I'd say eat me, but I've decided they just aren't worth the pain." A small shake of his head. "Too much bullshit, not enough rewards to make it worth it."(tucker)
[Oh god what have I done now and am I going to die for it?]Singular thought. "Tristan?" reply through the darkness. "I apologized about that shit, then when I tried to explain why I am the way I am a day or two later he ran off in a huff."
Exhale hard. Voice becoming a bit more commanding. "Yeah, I called him out on bein' gay, it was uncalled for and he didn't fuckin' desrve it." Looking into the Gnawer's eyes. [You're one of my favorite people, can't you tell?] "I apologized, it's over now Jamey boy. If he don't wanna be around me it's his deal now."
Huff. "Sides, from what I hear you got no room to talk."
(sasha)
Pale blue eyes widen as her mouth twists into a wider, cheshire grin. She can't stop chuckling, shaking her head. "Now, I wonder what be goin' on down t'ere."Her head turns around to look towards the direction that Tristan had been watching.
(kemp)
"Whatever it is, it's Eagle business." Curt nod. Adding. "And likely started by some woman."(tristan)
He nods to Kemp’s words, before shrugging. “Definitely Eagle business. I’m just glad to see my bro again. Hopefully he’ll head down this way when he’s done.” And give us all the details.There’s a glance that takes in Nahi down the way, before returning toward Decker’s back, and then back again. Just keeping aware, he’s overdue for a snapshot of ‘this week’s beating of the pretty boi’ for the newsletter after all.
(nahi)
Nahimana nods back to the gentleman who'd nodded to her, she walks over standing a respectful distamce away, waiting to see if she'd be invited to join them(sasha)
Slender black brows shot upward, snapping her head around to stare at Kemp. "Such a beautiful choice of words, shugah. Thank ya for informin' me to stay out of it." She looks back, pivoting her body on the heels of her boots to face that direction. "Ya bro's got Tucker... Wondered if he ran his mouth off again."(kemp)
"Ya see, the way I see it is like this." Tapping the side of his head. "My brain, it's like a hard boiled egg. Hard shelled, solid. Not mouch gets in, nothing comes out but the stink of it. Women, well someone took their little egg brains, cracked them in a bowl, beat the hell out of them with one of those little whippy things and then when they were all scramble to a big ole gooey, no one can figure out the white from the yoke, mess, they got poured back in their heads." Glancing towards the woman that just came up with the er, fringed clothing? Groaning. "Another girl." Looking to Sasha again. "Oh please, what do you think?"(nahi)
"If not for a woman, you would not exist, young one." Nahimana says in a soft sing song voice the cadance reveals she has not been off the Rez for long.(james)
"Think bein' a bigot's 'n excuse?" looking into the Fang's eyes [I trusted you, around my pack and my family, can't you tell?] just as the Fostern's got him backed all the way up against a wall, brick bites into the back of Tucker's jacket... but James gives no quarter "Think hurtin' s'mone who had yer back 'z worse'n whatev'r I done?"something in his smile begs for Tucker to push the fact
give him a reason to strike and quench the dry asphalt ground with blood
palms hit the wall on either side of the younger Garou's head
James exposing his chest and throat to invite stupidity's move
(give me a reason to throat you.... pleaaase)
and suddenly his voice changes, just as he leans in real close
dropping to viper's poisonous whisper"I'll accept you 'plogize'.... 'n I dun care 'f you two dun' look each oth'r in th' face 'gain." Pause. Murderous. "But if I ev'r hear a yeh talkin' 'bout how worthless yeh think m' kin is 'gain, 'r do an'thin' construe' as'n insul'..... yer's'll be th' nex' pair a boots strung ov'r a line. Got it?"
breath chuffs out, punctunating the lecture brought by Rank and Rage
then the Ahroun turns away to stalk out of the alley
final blow to ostracize the disgraced Garou
the Gnawer turning his back on a worthless foe
returning to the welcoming presence of pack(tris)
Gaze narrows, and he shakes his head slightly. “If so, it’s between James and him. Decker’s there.” End of story for them, no matter what he hopes the outcome will be. Nahi speaks and he turns to look at her again, chuckling softly. “Yeah, well, some things are just like that. Can I help you..... miss?”(kemp)_
"And there you have it. Fucked before I got fucked or fucked." Arms shooting up in the air before slapping back to his sides.(nahi)
"I was just out for a walk, init...Learnin' the city..." She turns to go "I didn't mean to intrude." Nahimana nods as she turns(sasha)
Eyes widening slowly, turning around to fix her gaze on Kemp, suddenly narrowing. "Kemp, hush up. Ya cute as a button, but ya mouth ruins it sometimes." She replies with a smile, sweet voice rolling words off her cajun tongue. Another glance over her shoulder back in the direction she faced and nods her head. "I reckon so. Guess I'll need to wait 'round to clean up de Tucker mess"(nahi)
"Aiyah! Where are my Manners? I am Nahimana Laughing Coyote. Shaman of the Sioux Nation." She lifts her chin proudly. If anyone wanted more of an introduction, they's have to reveal what and who they are first.(tris)
Smirks. “Why bother.” And that’s about as close as a ‘i can’t stand him i hope james kills him’ that will come out of the kin’s mouth. Instead, he turns his gaze again on Nahi, dark eyes mirroring the good natured grin that finds familiar lines of his lips. “You’re not intruding. Can I help you find anything?”(tucker)
"Don't you walk away from me -rhya!" He screams. Glaring at the Gnawer's back. "You hurt me, you lied to me for months. I had your back then and I still have it now, drums-rhya. But what you did hurt the family James-rhya. I loved you as a brother, I love you like a brother.... And you repay me by not even fucking telling me."He pauses only to take a breath. "And don't you dare act like you don't know what I'm talking about." Realization, gradual flows into his monologue.
"That's what you've been beatin' yerself up for the past few months aint it? You fucking loved her.... you and fucking Rune were in fucking love, and you didn't have the balls to tell me to my fucking face!"
Softly, "Why?"
(decker)
If Decker shifts his weight to rest evenly between his feet, it's only 'cause he expects James to go and do something violent now. And a beating's one thing. Killing a Garou's another.He scrunches one nostril briefly, lip curling up - a sniff accompanies. Glance around, making sure no one gets too close to this particular alley. Doing for James what James would do for him, in a situation like this. And Decker understands the need to protect kin better than most.
Nothing more said or done.
(james)
it doesn't even seem like the Gnawer stopped
it doesn't even seem like he heard what Tucker was saying
not until he's already moved"...... 'n what reas'n.... ma'e yeh think.... you oughta know.....my secr't tha' broke my hear'....." right back up in the Fang's face where each word drips molten "Do not suff'r thy people t' ten' thy sickn'ss.... ain't tha' righ', Tuck..... i's ov'r nah, Tuck'r-boy, tha's whatcha said.... righ'....?"
push it, Cliath, give me a reason to frenzy.....
(nahi)
At the word KIN Nahimana smiles a closed lipped smile...Some people could be touchy about showing teeth "I think I may have found what or who I was looking for."(kemp)
A faint lift of his chin in response. More concerned with being an obsticle between others and his pack than anything else.(Sasha)
Pitch-black hair tumbles around flawless features as Sasha inclines her head to Nahimana. "Pleasure, bella. Nice to make ya acquaintance."She catches Kemp's head movement, quirking a brow at him quizzically. She doesn't move from her spot, feet planted firmly upon the pavement. Nahimana proved to be an interesting distraction for now. Although, she was dying to know if Tucker was still breathing or not.
(tristan)
He nods, slighly, the violin case in his hand shifting a bit as he adjusts his grip, the other hand in the pocket of tattered jeans. “Understandably so. Who all have you met up with? Chicago’s a big place, but I tend to get around and know a few people here, and there...”(nahi)
"I have met Jim Larson, Yu Gan, Tura, and a large man names LeRoy...a couple of others I think...I cannot remember their names." Nahimana looks a bit embarrassed as pink floods her tan cheeks because she can't recall all the names "And, I have met some the women who...*Light cough* Own the park."(tristan)
He laughs and nods. “I know them. Jim’s family – the rest are not necessarily friends, but I know them. I think a more proper intro is due to you then.” Voice pitches to carry just to them. “Tristan Stern, BeeGee Kin with the Eagles, and all around message boy for half the city it seems like some days. This here’s Eagle land, up north there is LeRoy’s crew, the Knights, over that way belongs to some Irish blokes, the Crows.”(tucker)
The Fang calms visibly. Odd considering the full moon in front of him's disposition."S'not what I meant. I just wish you would have told me, when I found out... I felt betrayed, felt like my own brother who I could feel hurting to his very core, couldn't even let me in. I wanted to help so bad these last few months man. If ya haven't noticed I been goin' through some pretty bad shit m'self."
Breath, slows, audible. "But you never let me in. I wasn't looking to tend your sickness, you can do that on yer own. I was looking to find that thing that was hurting and just... help somehow. Sorry if I opened up a wound there but James...Jamey-boy.... I know what is's like to lose somone you love. You could have come to me."
His head goes down looking to his feet in submission to the Fostern. Wishing he could once again feel the bond afforded by a lost totem.
(nahi)
Nahimana is happy that Jim had explained to her that Th Crows were a pack and not the hated ancient enemy of the Sioux. She takes a deep breath "I too should give proper introduction. I am Nahimana Laughing Coyote, Walks with Spirits. Claith Theurge of the Uktena Tribe. Shaman of the Coyote Clan, Lame Deer Reservation, Lakota Nation. I come here to offer help and healing to all Garou. I have no pack init." Nahimana smiles to those around her "I request permission to tread the land of your territory."(sasha)
Her hands lift up, arms fold across her torso, as they search out the pockets of her coat until a black elastic band was found. Fingers splay through the hair tie, rolling it back over her palm. Sasha begins to gather up the heavy pitch-black mane of hair that fell to her middle of her back, scooping and twisting it off the back of her neck. She pulls the elastic band from her hand, wounding it around her hair to keep the messy twist in place.Pale blue eyes move over to Nahimana once more as she catches Sasha's attention with her introduction. She sidesteps Kemp, slipping behind him to sidle up close to Tristan and the Uktena. A smile upon her face.
"I'm guessin' proper introduction are in order." sweet voice murmuring in the same low tones. "Sasha'Honeysuckle Jubilee'Delacroix, CoG fostern born under Luna's Crescent smile like ya'self, bella."
(kemp)
He hated introductions. And right now he hated talking. Mumbling. "Kemp Oates, Truth in Frenzy." With a wary look around. "Fenrir, no moon. Eagle pack." Rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, sniffing. "Permission for what?"(tris)
He smiles, nodding. “Eagles don’t mind, right Kemp? Long as you keep your nose clean, and if you run into trouble you let one of us know. You can find me most afternoon and evenings playing on the corners around here, drumming up some cash, and 9 times out of 10 I know where someone is if you’ve need to get in touch with someone.”(nahi)
Nahimana smiles and nods at Sasha "I was born waxing."(kemp)
He was probably born talking but then again, he never waxed anything in his life. Cocking his head while listening to the woman. "Er, right." Nodding to Tristan. Just dying to ask what she was born waxing.(nahi)
Nahimand turns her gaze to Tristan "Yu Gan has been kind enough to let me stay with his pack. I am offering mid wife services in return for my stay" Nahimana smiles and nods thinking of the unborn cub(kemp)
Mid wife, that term had always confused him. How did it come to mean, pulling a kid out of someone? Mid wife sounded more like, between the first and last wife. Musing while half listening.(james)
it would be clear to the spirits spying on them from Los Angeles all James wants to do is lash out
find a reason that's good enough to rip the Fang infront of him to nothing more than steaming pieces
and maybe it's by the sole reason of a slanting gibbous in the sky above he finds a reason to calm instead
..... marginally"Yeh?" somehow mockery lends its bite to his self-depreciative smirk "She ain' th' firs' I los. Maybe I dun' wanna share tha' pain wi'h nobody...... 'cause nothin'.....nothin' soothe that pain 'cept re'lizin' once they' gone..... they dun' ev'r come back."
the Fang submits
and this time, when the Gnawer turns, nothing will draw him back
(sasha)
Black, sculpted brows lift upward at that bit of news. "Sounds like someone's repopulatin' already." her nose crinkles up, turning away from the group to look in the direction of the alley once more.(tristan)
There’s a nod, slight. “Who’s having the kid?” out of curiosity and all. Seems like there’s something in the water in Chicago. Might want to get Kemp a new stash of condoms just in case he quits hating women and all...(decker)
When James comes back out of the alley Decker starts moving again. Heading back to Eagle turf. Addison's a block away and that's the boundary line.He doesn't ask James about the confrontation. Doesn't need to. They were a pack, but they all had their own secrets, lives and reasons. James doesn't ask him about Imogen. He'll return the favor.
Somewhere along the way, as James' rage washes off the Gnawer and slowly, slowly begins to subside, Decker reaches into his pocket for a battered joint. Scratches a match along the wall as he moves, lights up, tosses the match aside and puffs. Passes.
(tucker)
Shrug. The Gnawer is right. There is no, somtimes they come back in this life. Tucker's lost a laundry list to find that out."I miss her too, somthin' terrible." Spoken to the gnawer's back as he walks away, loud enough that he can hear.
He's not itching now, and he pulls down his shirtsleeves to hide the deep fingernail cuts.
He leaves through the alley's other end a few minutes later, sullen and lonely. Well, maybe Sasha will be at the hotel when he gets home. She's always good to talk to.
(james)
James never asks the Modi about Imogen
he just defends and protects her as he can
knowing how special she is to his packmate
that's all he really needs to know
the strange and turbulent... friendship... with the good doctor is just gravy
and while the returned modicrum of respect and privacy may be a favor
there are also some things you simply shouldn't speak of
not even with your packmates
which is why James kept his agony to himselfhe doesn't let the wince show
hearing Tucker's last comment
but Decker can sure as hell feel it
(best thing to do is keep trying to forget her, Jamey-boy)his gaze doesn't lift from the sidewalk
(don't let them see the hurt behind the fury even if it's clear as day)
the joint plucked from calloused fingers clean and blind
smoke sucked into lungs that will never blacken with some kind of vengeance
head shakes to bring him back to reality and pass the burning j back(sasha)
Sasha looked on after Kemp as he left to adhere to the call of nature, turning around to face Tristan and Nahimana once more. She feigns a pretty smile at the news of another's fortune of procreation, even as the blessed news rubs at an sore spot somewhere inside of her, hitting home just a little hard. "S'good to hear. I'm happy for de couple."(tristan)
He nods then, slightly. “Ah... pass along my congratulations when you see her next hm?” Not sure which she was, but that’s alright. Still heartfelt. There’s a nod for Kemp, and an affectionate thump on his shoulder, before his attention returns to James and Decker as they hid this way.More so, James, knowing him well enough to see the tension in his frame, to read the pain under the skin, thought the veins (thought we agreed to leave them back in Jersey, bro. – never is that easy, is it?) in the way steps hit the pavement, and so on. A smile for Nahi and Sasha. “If you’ll excuse me.” And without waiting for a reply, he’s closing the distance between James and Decker and himself. Meeting them halfway, as the saying goes.
(decker)
If Decker were another tribe, another garou, another man, he might throw his fist around James like a brother. He might slap him on the back or give his shoulder a quick affectionate rub. Body language, comfort in a gesture. But he's not, and the joint passed back and forth is all there is.Drag and hit, hold and release. Pass. Met Sasha yet? If he hadn't, he will now.
(nahi)
Nahimana smiles and nods "Aiyah, I will."(sasha)
Who hasn't met Sasha, yet? She was pretty hard not to miss, turning to stand next to the Native American woman, as her eyes travel after Tristan (and watching his ass) to the Modi and James. "I t'ink, bella, ya about to meet de rest of de Eagles." She says with a quirk of a smile. "Decker's de bald one, Fenrir, warrior. Ain't sure about his friend." she leans closer to Nahimana to whisper in her ear.(james)
maybe all the comfort James needs (accepts) is the presence of those packmates that are still with themHuh? baaack to reality, raggedyman
dark eyes lift to glance ahead and see what the hell Decker was talking about
they skirt over Tristan (hey bro...) and to the small group beyond
two unknown females, Kemp rounding the corner to take a leak
a brow almost begins to cock, wondering why he's being warned.....
but thoughts drift to wanting something a LOT stronger than pot to numb the resurfacing pain
hit. hold. pass.they've gone from loitering to public intoxication, folks!
(nahi)
Nahimana nods at Sasha's words wondering why she called her Cher when she had told her her name was Nahimanah, besides, Cher was part Cherokee...(tristan)
He steps to the side for a moment, and contemplates pulling james away, but one look at him, that brief meeting of his gaze is enough. His shit can wait. He falls into step and when they get close enough, does the introduction thing. “Sasha, this is my bro, James – and you know Decker. Nahimana, these are the Eagles I mentioned. Decker and James – boy,s Nahimana, she’s staying with the Quick.”After he’s done that, he sets his violin case down on the ground at his feet, and digs through pockets until finding his pack and lighter. Cigarette lit, pack and lighter tucked away again, and he picks up the case once more.
(nahi)
Nahiman nods and smiles with her lips closed, unsure of those now approaching
"It is good to meet all of you. Are either of you the Alpha of the Eagles?" Nahimana asks with bowed head and lowered eyes just in case one of them was the Alpha(decker)
Well...shit. He ain't bald. But with his hair cropped to a bare bristle, it's easy to mistake him for that from far off. Close up he's got hair. Light-colored, probably blonde, given the golden eyebrows, the honey-hued eyelashes, each darker than the last.And grey eyes. Angry grey eyes. He pushes his rage ahead of him like a storm front. Those eyes flicker over Sasha, Tristan, then on to Nahimana briefly. He nods up.
Thassit.
(james)
"Nuh."(he's uglier than either of us)
but rather than a vicious sneer, the Gnawer pulls himself together
(fake it, Jamey-boy)
James casts the two new females a rather lopsided grin
and, by the look of things, it will always be lopsided
probably caused by the rift that starts about midline on the left side of his jaw
it would, logically, be the reason for his slur, as well
(note he is not attempting to pronounce _either_ of their names)
which makes him fascinatingly all but unintelligable coupled with the thick Yankee accent and fast-acting weed"Close 'nuff if yeh need s'mthi'?"
yeh... PR guy of the pack of something like that
Decker's hair is shorn short and nordic blond, grey eyes holding the storm
James' is raggedy sprawl of dark dreadlocks, deepening the rich earth umber of his eyes
(eyes that are dead behind the still ebbing tide of Rage)(nahi)
"I wish only to offer my respect and to ask directly for permission to tread Eagle lands in safety." Nahimana says in a soft sing song voice that carries the cadance of the Rez she'd left just weeks ago(sasha)
She clears her throat, offering up a sultry smile to the Ahrouns, inclining her head in the slight dip of her chin. Pale blue eyes drank in their appearance, as her head tilts up. "Evenin' all." cajun flavored voice, rolls sweetly over the ears as she spoke. Both hands perch on her leather clad hips, standing with her boots braced to support the hard lines of muscle that play over feminine softness. A quiet nobleness shined in her stature from her silver-blooded pedigree.The double roll of rage pouring off the men swam over her senses, lifting dark brows at them in a curious expression, her own low rage barily noticeable to even mark her as a wolf at all.
(tristan)
He doesn’t say anything else at that point, simply watches and listenings as he makes slow steady work of his cigarette, tapping the ashes to the ground during exhalations, the flutter of grayish ash unseen in the dirty mess of Chicago Streets, his gaze... off that way, somewhere. His thoughts his own.(decker)
"You don' bother us, we don' bother you," Decker says. Simple as that. James can elaborate if he wants, to make sure there ain't no misunderstanding. A curt nod up to Sasha. "'Sup." Pause. "You bring Tuck here?"(sasha)
Dark brows quickly furrow into a small frown, etching across pretty features. Shake of her head, "Nah, I didn't, shugah. I didn't even know he was on t'is side of de tracks. He startin' shit again?"(nahi)
"Aiyah. It's good then, init?" Nahimana smiles at the men, her hands in the pockes of her beaded and fringed buckskin jacket(james)
put two of Eagle's full moons together and their Rage swirls growing storm
meeting them side by side on the street is comparable to being hit by a freight train on some nights
normally, this happens when the moon is swelled pregnant in the sky
tonight, the same can be said about the gibbous with one so traditionally nasty and the other so close to a previous frenzyall hail the wonders of super green....
it allows James to elaborate on Decker's synopsis with something of a smile
"Yeh. S'good. Keep y'r nose clean 'n us in th' loop a an'thin' hitchy 'n we'll letcha pass through as yeh wan'." a pause, only long enough to negotiate a trail of thoughts that swirled and formed in the fog of his mind before disappearing again "S'cuse me, folks, du'y call'."
little more than a cordial nod to those he just met
and the Gnawer extracts himself from the little meet'n'greet
deep umber eyes on the cement beneath his boots
working his way back to the pack haven by memory's navigation
(damning himself for allowing it to hurt again)(tristan)
Funny, that’s what he told her too. But well, his attention is on James now, watching him go, before he flicks the cigarette in his hand into the gutter and just lowers his gaze to his boots, letting the conversation slide by him.(decker)
Decker grunts and shrugs. This seems to answer everyone.Then James extricates himself. Decker doesn't watch him go. When you're pack, you're never really apart. Why bother?
There's something like an awkward silence, except Decker's silence is more on the distracted side, impatient. Stand near him and you feel an energy coming off of him, like he burned hotter and faster than everyone else. It's in sharp contrast to his lazy deliberation of movement, the studied thuggishness of walk and gesture.
Abruptly, to Tristan, "James had'a talk with Tuck. Over you."
(tristan)
Until Decker brings him back to the present. “That so.” He looks up – and meets the Modi’s gaze a moment before lowering it again... “Anything I should know about?” Yeah, he wants to know, but he also knows the Decker will tell him nothing he doesn’t want too.(nahi)
Nahimana looks from face to face "I am weary. I have been on the road for many days and nights. It was good that we met. I thank all of you for your hospitality. I will return to my host's to rest." She smiles a bit "Good night."(sasha)
"Hrmm..." the feel of the rage clicks some random thought into Sasha's brain, bringing forth some forbidden knowledge of how to downplay all this rage. She doesn't entertain the thoughts, remembering what happened last time when she crippled Tucker's. Hands pull up to slide over her arms, folding them across her chest as she listens. "Night, Nahimana."Posted by james at 12:00 AM