June 28, 2005.06.28.05. - motel lifestudy [imogen-nessa] *dr[riverfront]
(nessa malikoff)
Nessa, stil in her work clothes-- nondescript slacks and blouse, looking a bit nondescript herself. And slightly red eyes. Surely that is just allergies, right? She is carrying a cup from a cafe, the steamy sweet scent of something which started as coffee emitting from it.
Teh kin knocks on the hotel room door...
Her wrists are covered by a lightweight suitjacket, black hair up. Tote--a neater one now than before, but nothign to write home about. Nothing formfitting, slightly loose actually. She;s styled for 'average' now. Just your common garden variety Shadowlord kin.
The Russian looks aroudn while she waits.(imogen)
The hotel is... well. A motel, really. Low-end, low-class and entirely unlike Doctor Imogen M. Slaughter and her understated elegance. Nonetheless, this was the correct address. The carpet in the hallway is worn, and the walls are thin so that the mutter of occupants can be heard as she walks to the appropriate room number.It smells of stale cigarette smoke. Perhaps the occupants are smoking. Imogen, when she opens the door, is not smoking, however, stepping aside to let the Shadow Lord Kin in.
The room beyond is tidy, if pale and tired, the coverlets thin, the carpet discoloured. The kinfolk's dark eyes touch on Agnessa, for a moment, thoughtfully, taking in her red-rimmed eyes, perhaps her tired look. Imogen looks as well as she did before, with her suit perhaps a little more creased, her hair just a little looser about her face.
"C'mon in," she says, as she walks back into the room, "I hope you don't mind, but I've brought company." There's a sensation that she says this for politeness only. Agnessa's response doesn't matter.
(nessa)
She tenses a littel, then relaxes--some-- when she sees Imogen. "As long as company is reasonably polite and is not carrying black knife. Damn, is not nice here." She steps in,looking back with what might be a touch of nervousness.
He could be anywhere.(james)
Imogen is not smoking - her guest, however, is
raggedyman tucked nice and neat into the far-side corner
lanky frame comfortably situated at the motel room's excuse for a dinette set
one elbow resting on the cracked veneer of the table's long-dull top
the other crooked to allow ashes their plummet into nondescript ashtraydark eyes wander from below the curtain of tangled dreads
rich umber hues speaking of the moist earth they all struggle to save
subdermal inferno speaks of something else entirely - a primal predator caught in man's den
the Ahroun cuffs breath into the rhythmic cadence of softly amused laughter
his words riding towards the ceiling on rings of Camel's fragrant smoke"Nuh. No knives 'ere." a grin spreads lopsided across his face - so fine a line between friendly and ferocious, his arsenal is far beyond the treatise of tang and blade "'n I promise a be poli'e.'"
(nessa)
Tired, yes. But she carries herself well enough. Light on her feet. Nessa looks about for this company.
She nods to him, her Russian accent thick tonight. Sighs, relaxing a little more. "Is good. I am Nessa Malikoff." Her dark blue eyes watch him inquisitivley.(imogen)
"No, it rather is not," Imogen answers Nessa absently.A glance toward James, and his cigarette, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk that might be a rare thing for Agnessa to see. There's something amusing about what she sees in the Gnawer Garou. Or perhaps that she is not smoking, and he is.
(If there were a totem connection between kinfolk and garou, he might hear the single word: Cruel. Perhaps knowing her as long as he has, he hears it anyway in the twitch of her mouth, wry and self-deprecating.
Imogen has always stopped smoking from time to time. This one has lasted longer than most, but has a timer on it, just the same. Her addiction is ticking...)
She lets James make what introductions he may, walking over to the round table, one with several folded bits of cardboard beneath a leg (an old camel packet, something else unrecognizeable) to try and steady it. From the table, she picks up an art pad, flipping through it quickly. It's half full. The images within pass by too quickly to see - an impression of charcoal and pencil shading. At a new page, she stops, folds the pad over and places it back on the table.
(nessa)
She walks over to the table, not thrilled to be here but willing. A little reluctance in the way she moves. Doesn't want to see Him again. Even a drawing.
"So.. i explain and you draw, da? There is some that cannot be drawn. The.. feel. More indentifyable than the way he looked. I have never felt that before." Even from Shadowlords. Which, is Truly saying something. Except, of course that she would not say something so disrespectful.
Still, the slight implication is there.(james)
for as long as the firey kinswoman and guttermutt Gnawer have known each other
perhaps it is safe to assume he garners some totemic speech from mere expression
there's the connection of their eyes across the spanse of brevity
a momentary focus translating into the endless prose of bodylanguageshe quits smoking from time to time
this round has laster longer than most
they all, however, have come to an endand who's gonna be there with a waiting pack and Zippo, hm?
(..... I had a dream I was a vigilant sidekick.....)
safe bet it's the same Garou that's currently not winking in response
(..... You think I don't know?.....)
and instead directing his attention and so-called manners on the Russian kin"Jamezzz Brans'n."
there are things that cannot be described nor translated through pencil to paper
those, perhaps, are the reasons for which Imogen brought her strange-looking company
his resources awaiting Nessa's descriptions in a wholly different realm(imogen)
She pauses significantly waiting for introductions to be completed. When they are, she glances at Agnessa, "Close. I'd rather ask yeh to describe a bit at a time. We'll start wi' somethin', get it right, and then move on. His eyes, th'shape o' his face." Imogen shrugs, as she slides out of her suit jacket, laying it over the top of her chair.There is no air conditioning in the motel, and the room is sweltering. Beneath the jacket, she wears a cotton blouse, the sleeves short enough that the outline of her tattoo is visible, just beneath the fall of the cuff. The shadowed shape of her gun at the small of her back, too. One can see why Imogen wears her suit jacket, day in and out, regardless of heat.
"It'll take some time. But better in th'long run."
A glance up at the Shadow Lord, as she sits down, "Are yeh ready?"
(nessa)
She fights the urge to rub the goosebumps off her arms. "An honor to meet you." Turns to the redhead kin, leaving her jacket on, concealing what she needs to keep hidden. "I am ready. So..Eyes? Dark." She describes the eyes, alright there. "he seemed.. amused at first, and as if i were stupid. Which, caught in house alone, maybe i was."
(james)
it is indeed sweltering in the cheap-ass room
James, at least, had been in his share of simliar dives
so knew to dress for the occasionwifebeater leaves his arms bared to muggy atmosphere
tanned skin giving way to the iridescent tribal slashes patterning right forearm
dreadlock tips hiding the peeking tips of equally dark marks falling cape down his back
luckily, he's not melting enough to soak thin cotton to the point of showing their true extent
but unlike the Russian visitor, the Gnawer isn't concerned about concealing battlescars or other markings of his kind
lean and carved as his limbs seem to be, there's no indication he carries a weapon like the good Doctor
BDU's crossing casually at the ankle beneath his chair"Sssshape? Sssset? Browli'e?"" a pause for collective thought while the smoke is ashed out in the tray, calloused hands spreading wide with upward palms, inviting a bit more depth, prompting Nessa's recollective detail without abrupt demand "Give any in'cation o'v'iz bloodli'ez?"
(imogen)
Imogen had been about to speak, a faint line forming between her brow - James however, speaks before she has completely drawn her breath. A lift of her pencil in James's direction supports what the Gnawer has says.When Agnessa begins to speak again, providing the pertinent information, Imogen's pencil begins to scratch across the paper, taking words and giving them shape.
(nessa)
She peers at Jamezzz adn struggles with his accent then turns back to IMogen slowly. "His eyebrow? Ahh.. well. " She starts explaining all she can, from unwashed ukempt man to dark hair adn pale skin, the multiple scars over him like patchwork. She points out where she'd stabbed him, and describes the cut of his trenchcoat and hte poor clothes he wore. Very accurately. like she Really looks at people. Repeating anything, helpign to make corrections.
By the end of hte picture, she is visibly rattled.
"I do not know what bloodline? Why would i know that? Jody said those markings are.. Wyrm? He is evil. Is very true."
She sighs. "There is more cannot draw- miasma of him, like.. rotton air. Rotten soul. It.. went.. i felt it even in thighs."
She shivers. And reaches for her purse.(james)
James maintains his silence until the kinswoman begins to falter
dreads rattling atop his shoulders as head shakes gently"Bloodli'e, her'tige, ethnic mayk-uph?" again, those hands travel through the air, somewhere in this mop of a man is a performer tried and true, backpedaling his faulty choice of easier pronounced words "Ay-shun? White? 'Spanic?"
and perhaps there is a part of the guttermutt that considers comforting her obvious disquiet
the closest she gets is the toss of pack and lighter into the middle of the table in offer
his newest link in the chain smoke line scissored between index and middle finger"He intim'dayt'd yew f'r pow'r..... f'r y'r revulszion 'n fear..... more'v a rapis' th'n a murd'rer?"
brow cocks towards the ropey dreads
query that she understands what he's getting at in the entire attack
it wasn't a singular gutting spree, this was something sick and emotionally sinister
(.... the prevalence of corruption's stain....)(nessa)
Her dark blue eyes stare at him nealry squinting. "Ahh.. Oh. AHh not Asian, not Latin. I think.. White. Pale, maybe as pale as i am but not.. liek the health. More tan?"
She jsut about pounces on the cigs--they dont even hit the table- lighting up rather extremely quickly and sucking in the smoke.
"I.. think maybe both. Imtimidate, definately. It.. was not just that thogh. I think he had followed me from grocery store. I felt itt there too. I thought was cold from the frozen food but not. Then, at home, i felt before i heard him. Barely. He came in through the window, down from fire escape--adn we are on 6th floor, not easy. He had been above. Below was blocked off, Milobrat had done that. He--teh man-- said nothign, only twirled the knife. And stabed the door when i tried to get out that way. When he attacked, it was not to kill. To wound. Ad he did not, until i tried to get away."
*SHe* thinks she is being fairly calm, considering.(imogen)
Agnessa describes, Imogen's pencil scratches across the paper, and slowly what Agnessa says, comes to life on paper. Perhaps too much to life.Imogen, though she takes her time, or perhaps because she does is good. Damn good.
Or so James can see. The tilt of the pad keeps the image from Agnessa. So perhaps her rendering is beautiful, but her directions faulty. A glance toward James when he speaks, and she speaks up for the first time since Agnessa had begun to describe accurately, other than to ask a question or two ("Are his lashes long? Does he have a long face?" so on. So forth.) about what she was doing.
"The previous women were not raped," she states it as simply as 'I had eggs for breakfast.' "But they lived a long time."
A glance toward Agnessa - "Is there anything else yeh can remember about him that would be important? About how he looked?"
(james)
Nessa pounces on the proffered pack
and James waves a hand that she can help herself
no Galliard relishes singing a tale of personal trauma
no reason to expect the same of a woman so recently attacked
even... if she's Shadow Lord
coveting all his cigarettes is the least of the Gnawer's worries
keeping Nessa rationally communicating is the key"Yeh, but th' victimizay'shun's followin' th' sa'e lines." a equally dismissive shrug to Imogen's deadpan addition "'s'a same game've pred'tor 'n prey."
dark eyes ticktock back towards the uncomfortable Russian
"'r th' markingz?"
(nessa)
Imogen receives a blank look. A trivial detail. Rape of a differnt kind. Clearly, Nessa is still not kindly disposed towards the attacker. SHe sucks down the cig and reaches for another with calmer hands.
She sighs. "Dirty. He didn't too take care of himself, smelly. Worn, liek.. threadbare skin? Greasy hair, and longish?" she indicates where it was.
She hesitates. " I think.. i surprised him. I was... less kempt in appearance that day. Did not look challenging. He was not fast enough to stop me from leaving, though it was close for a little while. I think.. he did not expect. Does that help?"
She looks over at him. "Jamezzz. Wha do you mean about markings? I do not understand?"
(imogen)
Imogen glances to James as he speaks, and states simply, "Yes." Perhaps there is more that she will say later. Imogen may not be completely kind, but she will at least not discuss what she knows, in detail, in front of someone who nearly suffered the same fate.And silence now, she waits for James to finish his questioning, the artist's pad held at an angle.
(james)
"Yeh tol' us Jody sed those marks're Wyrm. The scars? 'r did he hav' s'm'thin' else on'iz skin'r clothes're on th' knife?" muscular shoulders roll in another shrug, he's just pulling prompts out of thin air, Nessa was the one who knows what details are there to provide "C'n yeh draw'm onna blank sheet've pap'r a help Im'gen's version a yuh descrip'?(nessa)
She nods and takes pen and paper, and begins, no artist, but she struggles through.. She describes as she foes. "I did not see the knife terribly well, he was spinning it, liek skilled, and then i was trying to stick him with kitchen knife myself." She finishes and pushes the papaer to Imogen.
Time for questions of her own. "What do you know about this... man? You know something. What is it?"(imogen)
Imogen shakes her head, glancing at the sketchpad and it's product. "You know more than we do. All we have is from 'is previous crimes."She lays the sketch pad on the table, turns it and pushes it toward Agnessa, "This 'bout right?" The likeness is stunning.
(nessa)
She nods. "Tell me of them, please." Makes herself look at the face, her expression rather blank.
Then a little green. Remembering.(james)
the likeness may be stunning
but it's little help for what James has gathered of this issue
carefully studying the portrait so that features familiarize to memory
then allowing dark eyes to fall upon the sketches Nessa accomplished
muscular shoulders pitching into another smooth roll of noncommital shrug"I dunna detail' save wha'cha tol' me here t'night.... 'r th' list've'iz pas' crime'."
near filtered cigarette waves towards the redheaded Doctor
this is absolutely her area of expertise and control, thank you very much(imogen)
Imogen's eyebrow arches slightly. "They were bound, glyphs were carved into their bodies, and then their ribs were spread and their hearts were removed."Flatly issued, as she spins the pad back around and shuts it audibly. "They were hookers. You are not. Th'bloke who did it," she taps the art pad with a well-shaped hand, "is very likely Kinfolk, as you are."
A twitch of a shoulder, "S'all we know."
(nessa)
Her eyes flick to his shoulders, then away. At the photo and hten the hell away. "Da. That is the man."
She listens. With no surprise at all. Merely says, "Why me? I am not, and i do not look like. Most especially not that day."(imogen)
Imogen regards Agnessa without comment for several seconds, dark eyes unspeaking. "I have no way of knowing that."(nessa)
-She nods, disappointed, seeing something. "Two..." Nessa shivers.(imogen)
"Yes," Imogen agrees, "two."She stands, "Can you think of anything else?"
(nessa)
SHe shakes her head, looking Imogen in the eyes. "Nothing."(imogen)
She inclines her head, "Alright." Picking up the artist's pad, "I'll make copies, 'nd see if anyone recognizes 'em."A glance toward James, her other hand reaching up to tuck strands of hair behind her ears before glancing back at Agnessa, "Will you tell me, if yeh find out anything else?"
(nessa)
She nods. "I will. If you wil do the same." Trade. Calm again.
"Oh-- where was the other murder? the first one?"(imogen)
A shake of her head, " A low end o' town. I don't recall exactly where."(james)
the Fostern shakes his head, slightly
gathering no more questions pertinent to the answers gained tonight
.... until Nessa suddenly calms
animal senses click into the shift of chemicals in the air
perhaps it is simply because the interrogation's crux is seemingly over
perhaps it is for something else entirelyshe is a fucking Shadow Lord after all
"Yeh sure yuh dunn f'rget nuthin'?"
the Ahroun's dark brow slowly lifts towards the mop of dreads
one last chance, and only chance, to rectify any deliberate omissions
or supplement the things skimmed over in light of time-frame duress
but there's something about the apparently easy-going raggedyman
the way his deep umber eyes lock on the Russian kin
or the subdermal sense of something crackling just on the other side of the air
[.....Rage.....]
gamemongering Tribe tactics and trickery aside, Nessa gets the distinct impression this is the time to come clean if necessary
it's not only appreciated, but expected
[.... Rank....]
tomorrow he will grant no quarterone wrong move could find her well-armed corpse splattered across the cheap room
(james roll intimidation for nessa's confession
str+intimidation, diff nessa's wp
3+4=7, wp=4
to Nessa Malikoff, Imogen Slaughter, Tristan: 7D10 Dice Roll: 1; 8; 4; 3; 5; 2; 7
3 sux
to Nessa Malikoff, Jukebox: her diff was her willpower - she doesn't have anything to counter it. She's intimidated.(nessa)
Her face is fairly blank as she turns her head to regard James. "What do you mean? I have given description of killer, what he did when he entered room, when attacked me, what he wore, what he felt like. Is what you asked me. I have no other words to make those descriptions of that day better."
Truth. Even if she does somewhat resemble a pale, wide-eyed doe about to take flight.
"IS all you have asked me." She shivers, under his gaze, shrinking back in her chair. "Imogen has glyphs page. She has pictures. Did i meantion my brother is Shadowlord Theurge?"
She looks like she is about to bolt..(imogen)
As the Fostern locks eyes, the air chills and Imogen takes note of the change - not by stepping in, nor saying anything, but by simply stilling, a thumb hooking into the belt loop of her slacks, near the small of her back.And she watches - and she waits, watching Agnessa more than the Bone Gnawer Ahroun.
(james)
the dreadlocked Fostern tips a slow nod
weight of his gaze not wavering an inch"N y'r not lyin' 'bout nuthin' 'r holdin' sumthin' back f'r any reason?" a smile spreads, slightly, warmth below the icy embers in those deep eyes "I won' get angry."
..... if you try to run .... what's your bet I can't chase you down.... the man was sick and weak and unprepared.... I'm a Warrior of Gaia in my prime.....
(nessa)
This she wasnt' prepared for. IMogen, but not this. A nasty, nasty trick.
She can respect nasty tricks. Still, Nessa gives Imogen a betrayed, anguished glare, then looks back desperate to appease the garou. "She knows of nightmares, of glyphs and the badness. Wrongnesslikeiceonly corrupt-ice isthereitisalltherehefolowed me and he touchedme and JodysaysitwaswyrmThat is all i know!!'"(imogen)
A betrayed glance only receives an even stare. Like Jukebox had done before, Imogen gives the Garou the floor, and says and does nothing.(nessa)
She sinks bak into her chair, speaking rapidly and desperatrely. "Ionlysawoneididnotseethefirstiswearididnt knowonlyone just in the nghtmares jsut on my skin."
Nessa begins trenbling. He dosesnt' believe her. SHe IS goign to die. Maybe it will be fast....
(james)
this she wasn't prepared for
but the only way to beat a Shadow Lord is to play their own game
pulling the same feats of deception in tandem with every misleading turn
hopfully finding a resolution before the next trick is a blade in flesh
but as the Russian nears that line between cooperative and terrified
James allows a notch of warmth into the danger glittering behind his eyes
the smile spreads, appreciative, that she chose the phrases she did"What nigh'marez. 'n wha' glyphs." his tone is soothingly calm, but the element of viable threat returns a certain bladed hardess to those eyes "'n dunn f'rget what else yuh meant to add....."
..... last chance, kinswoman
((**slips that last one of James before Nessa's last, and follows up with:*))
she only saw..... one.... the fuck?
if it weren't for the discipline of a natural born showman
that final torrent of words may actually have caused James to blink
replaying the tape thorugh his mind to make sure he heard it right
luckily, a curt nod to Imogen's input covers and lapse in focus
gesturing with yet another nod towards Nessaprompting her to answer the good Doctor's question
encouraging her by signal she's doing things right
the Russian may pull through this one, yet
(imogen)
"She's been having nightmares that sound like th'murders. And drew a few things tha' look like what was carved in th'murdered women's flesh."Imogen speaks up. "I ha' a copy." Perhaps there is a bit of pity in the woman, after all. "But didn't 'ave a chance t'tell yeh before she showed up."
A glance toward Agnessa, "Only one? What did she look like?"
(nessa)
Nessa rises from hte chair, backign away from the garou. Teary eyed even, and shaken, shaking. So much for emulating Imogen's cool untouchable demeanor. She hasn't been this afraid since...well..
"She.. she.. was on the bedand tied and there were.. the hand and hte black knife.. was cutting into her , the skin and there was blood and it was MY skin and it was drehcing everything and it wasn't MY face it was a woman" ( and here, she describes accurately the last murder)) She continues, screaming the last. Lost in it again. "then the ribs stuck -broke and the heart was there and stopped beating and AND"
and terror. She is there again.(imogen)
Terror again. Lost as Agnessa is to the throes of almost-vision, it is likely only James that sees the flicker-flash of annoyance that crosses her features.British to the core - stiff upper lip and all that shite. "Agnessa," the former Fianna reaches out and grab the Shadow Lord's arm, and gives her a little shake.
Next door someone is knocking on the walls, yelling for them to shut up.
(james)
as suddenly as James donned the mask of impending doom
the rugged edges smooth away to what Nessa first met upon entry
easy smile forming ever-lopsided across his face
umber eyes warmed by a mellow, playful glinta glance to Imogen confirms that's all they need to know
the Gnawer is holding out the pack of smokes as some nic-fit olive branch
no indication he'd rip her arm off for accepting the addiction appeasing gesture"Thank yuh, Nessa. I 'ppreciate y'r sharin' tha' las' bit with'us."
and for all the portentious destruction that could have just passed
the raggedyman seems damned sincere(nessa)
The contact snaps her out of it. SHe looks aroudn, a bit confused for a second. Then huge blue eyes fix abruptly on teh pissed garou. Oh yes.. somethign about.. imminent death. Where were we...
We were going to smoke. Yes. Her pale hand reaches out to accept the pack, withdrawing two and lighting htem together. Drawing deeply on them both. Never looking away from the Gnawer.
"I.. am.. sure you do." Gnawers weren't all that nice after all. NO matter what she was told. No... not nice.(imogen)
The Shadow Lord snapped out of it, Imogen steps away, wiping her hand absently on her thigh as if the contact had tainted her somehow. She crosses the room to her suit jacket and shrugs back into it, straightening the collar with a pale hand.(james)
the Fostern takes a Camel for himself
then the remaining pack's tossed on the table for Nessa
it's hers to keep if she so wants (... or needs... ) it
earthen eyes easily holding the Lord's wary stare"Tol' yeh I would'n be mad, 'r impoli'e." Gnawers may be rumored as nice and coddly amongst the Garou, but perhaps the lesson will stick that's no excuse to attempt playing games with the ranking Jackal-Blood in the city "Room's yours f'r th' night if yeh wannit a relax f'r awhile."
lanky frame stretches to it's full six foot two height
maybe a dash more when tallying the lazy stretch post-rise
following Imogen's lead and stepping away from the community table
the good Doctor is his ride back, after all(nessa)
Of average height herself, she looks at Jamezz and the pack and leaves them, crushign out the rest of the cigs in teh ashtray there. THen picks up her tote and heads to the door. Humiliated and trying to pretend she isn't.
NOt much else to say. not without cursing.(imogen)
Her jacket so straightened, and her artpad with pencil tucked beneath her arm, she glances briefly at Agnessa, before her gaze goes to the Gnawer, and then she leaves the room, not bothering to check if the Shadow Lord was staying or leaving, nor really if James was following, though she could guess on the latter.Down the hallway, to the door, out of the motel and she walks out into the parking lot toward her car.
Aston Martin's are sweet rides. Sleek and subtle, it may not be her Mercedes, but it is certainly something.
The car doors click as they unlock, and Imogen gets inside, waiting for James to shut his door before speaking. "I suppose I'll try 'nd find out what's different from that murder t'the other and why she's only dreamin' that one."
She starts the engine, a subtle purr and pulls away from the parking lot and onto the street. Familiar actions - she takes James back to the packhouse, dropping him off before heading off to.... you guessed it. Work.
[end]
Posted by james at 06:38 PMJune 27, 2005.06.27.05. - spirits of a new age [eagle pack][forums]
(hyde)
Hyde had been out gathering components for his rituals. The get were pretty practical when it came to such things but Hyde was born nearly as much of spirit as he was of flesh. The Elementals called him their own and saw him as a brother. So he’d gathered up things for them.Sorting though things there in the hanger he nods and gets to work.
First he gathers up a plastic bag. Emptying the things out of it he smooths it out with his strange 3 fingered hand. Nodding he picks up a jar that’s titled “Liquid Latex” And after a few minutes of effort, unscrews the top with out shattering the jar. A sniff of it and he yanks his head back. Ugg…. Well being a Godi is seldom what one would call “fun”.
He reaches into his duffel and pulls out the drum, and the bone thrummer for it. Nodding to himself he starts to drum out a rhythm taught to him as a child by the elementals themselves. Calling up the elementals he starts to chant. Not sing… he’s not a Skald, but chant, repetition of sound.. the drum.. the plastic bag in front of him. It’s not a quick procedure. After the first hour he concentrates on his spiritual side and slips into the umbra with the drum. Thrumming it as his chant continues.. In the umbra he assumes his birth form. The massive Godi of the Fenrir. Dark steel gray fur, anvil shaped head. The drumming continues and the spirits come.
The first chant and offering had been to the Plastic elementals. When they arrive the Godi confers with them in their own language.
”Spirits of the new age. Plastic of the new ways we offer an exchange. For your assistance in watching over our den. We offer to give thanks to you in this new time of expansion… In the real world I have, ‘liquid latex’ Which I will use to paint on the corners of our den. If you agree to help us I will renew these paintings once a week. All we ask in exchange is a warning should minions of the wyrm approach. The .. latex itself will be painted on the walls. A simple thrumming on the wall will be enough to alert us.”
When the plastic spirits agree, Hyde seals the deal with a bit of spiritual energy and slips back into the real world to do as he said. Using the liquid latex to draw Norse glyphs of protection and observation on the corners of the hanger.
Back into the hanger and to his stuff. Kneeling down he pulls out some delicate items. A mirror, a few little hand blown glass sculptures. A Sun catcher. And a small stained glass wolf. Arranging them in a circle around himself he starts the summoning drum again… after an hour he slips into the umbra and continues his summoning. The glass jaggling shows up and plays with the items in the real world a bit before turning it’s gaze on it’s Elemental brother. Hydes speech is slow… and measured… and gentle when speaking with this one.
”Brother glass….. we of the Eagle Pack…. Would request your aid. For you to tell us…. When and if someone is observing our den…. Though your real world forms…. We would pay tribute… to your beauty and form…. The objects in the real word… will be displayed around our den… and treated with reverence…. Should you agree to help us. “
Another deal is brokered. Just one glass jaggling but one would be enough. Slipping back into the real world the Metis arranges the items around the Hanger. By the windows. If anyone looked in, the glass Jaggling would let them know. Privacy was needed by a Garou pack after all.
Taking a break to drink some pepsi Hyde goes back to his work. To the duffel he empties out some copper wire. A spool of it. For the next hour he takes the time to twist and snip and form the wire into an effigeal crinos Garou. When he’s done there is a copper crinos, arms, legs, tail, head, about a foot tall twisted from the entire spool of copper wire. Nodding to himself he then pulls out the battered CD player and a case of CDs. Hyde wasn’t what you’d call a modern music hound but the spirits sometimes liked it and sometimes a drum just wouldn’t do it. Picking a CD out he blows it off and puts it in the CD player. Electronic music starts to blare and Hyde grunts. Not his flavor, but the spirits would love this shit.
Hunkering down he starts to thrumb the spirit drum in concert with the be bopping beep booping music. Finally shifting over into the umbra he finds the electricity spirits flocking to see what was going on. Speaking rapidly to them in an excited and very articulate manner he offers them the deal.
”Brother spirits thank you for coming! It is a glorious day when the spirits of Electricity and the Garou can work as one. I’ve need of my brother spirits and their aid here in my packs den. We need to insure that the Den is kept in power and perhaps call on you in it’s defense should we ever be attacked! The music you hear playing is in YOUR HONOR. And I have built a small wire form for you to inhabit in our den. You will be honored for your aid and appreciated as the new and strong spirits you are becoming!!”
Again, as always after the deal he seals it with some of his own spiritual energies. Slipping back to the real world he finds the little Copper crinos moving around. Exploring the hanger. A grunt and message over the totem phone to the pack IF you see a small animate crinos made of copper in the pack house.. don’t touch it. It’s being used by an electricity Jaggling. Make little beeping noises at it but don’t TOUCH it.
Another pause and he eats some slim jims. Dragging some more items out of his bag he sets about summoning the Metal Elementals. A small gong is employed as well as banging some pots and pans instead of the drum. The racket isn’t quiet at all and when Hyde slips into the umbra he does find a jagging waiting.
”Sprit of metal thank you for hearing my call. I’ve come to ask you for ai.. “
”ShutthefuckupmotherfuckerIknowallaboutyourfurrykindandIdon’twantanything todowithyoursoftasses!Gotohell.YougotohellandDIE!”
With which the spirit kicks Hyde in the chest and sends him tumbling back across the dock before leaving. Sitting up he grunts and rubs his chest. “Well that could have gone better….”
Shifting back over to the “real” world he moves over to his corner of the hanger. Waits for the copper crinos to move out of his “Nest” and he crawls into the pile of blankets under the one affixed to the wall in a sort of tent/lean too style. Crawling in in crinos the massive Garou curls up as tight as he can to rest. That shit hurt.
In the morning he awoke and stretched. Crawling out of his nest he shifted back down to his homid form and headed out of the pack house and to the caern. The morning from sun up till noon was spent in meditation. Regaining his spiritual energies at the side of Maelstrom. Bleeding himself into the whirlpool in exchange. His metis birth letting the blood trickle out and replenish as it did, but still, the pain, the sacrifice was real.
At noon he headed back to the hanger and entered. Moving over he cleaned up all the things from the night before. And then pulled out more ‘traditional’ elemental summoning items. Air and Earth weren’t really present much on a pier but he could summon fire and water.
He decided for water first. Pulling out a cube from the duffel he opens the box and rolls out the “inflatable pool. Taking a while to blow the damn thing up by mouth (( Metis fenrir don’t often carry air compressors)) He finally gets it full. Then running a hose from the sink to the pool he fills it up. Nodding to himself he turns off the water. Shifs to his lupus form and steps into the pool. This way it comes up to about his furry chest. Throwing back his head he barks and starts to… dance. He danced much better in lupus than he did in homid and crinos would just shred the inflatable pool. Splish splash he danced and danced, yipping and barking in the water. Finally shifting over into the umbra sodden wet and smelling like a wet wolf he grinned to the spirits that had responded to his summoning.
”Livly spirits of water. Thank you for coming. We of the eagles ask for your aid in defending our den. It sits above the waves and we ask that should someone come in under your loving embrace of the water, that you make it as difficult for them as possible, and alert us to their approach. In reply, we shall routinely employ you to cleanse our selves and in doing so, show honor to you.”
The deal once agreed on, sealed with gnosis and hyde steps back into the real world. Shaking out his fur he shifted back up to crinos and gathered the material for the last of his summonings. Setting out incense in a circle around him he lights them and lets the fragrant smoke raise into the air. It also covered the ‘wet wolf’ smell. Which was a bonus.
Sitting in the middle of the circle he pulls out sticks and string. Taking his time he forms little figures of each member of the pack. Decker in crinos all pointy and angular. James in homid with some yarn for hair… AnneMarie in crinos but all slender and silent looking. Kemp in homid dancing around like a monkey. Himself in crinos with arms spread to the spirits. He even includes the Kinfolk. Roxy with narrow hips and a little stick gun. Moira, a smaller stick figure sitting down. And Imogen. Wrapped in frost blue yarn with a big honking knife in one hand.
Nodding to himself once they’re completed he puts on a new CD. This one fiery and clashing. Letting the music raise with the smoke of the incense. Slipping into the umbra he sees the fire spirits there. Bowing before them
”Spirits of fire and rebirth thank you for heeding my call. We of the eagles ask for your aid in the protection of our den. Should attack come we’re hoping that we can count on you to aid in our defense. All in creation know your strength and ability to harm. In becoming allies we would call on that strength in time of need. In return I will offer up routine burnt offerings. Starting with effigies of the pack itself so that if battle comes, you will know whom you’ve already claimed and know not to claim us again…. “
Again.. the deal is made and Hyde returns to the real world. A spritz of lighter fluid and a match and FOOM the little stick pack goes up in flames. He smiles and watches them burn. Once they’re done he stretches and cleans up. Leaving the wading pool in the middle of the hanger. Crawling back into his den to rest. Dealing with spirits was not easy after all.
(( Note to all, The rolls for these actions were preformed prior to posting and IN THE PRESENCE OF AN ADMIN, so there would be no question of rolls being fudged or rolled till successes were garnered. Admin presided over the rolls and expenditures here in and all was done above the bord. Not just typed up on whim.Thanks))
(decker)
While Hyde's in there working his voodoo Decker wisely stays out. He didn't know wtf was going on but all the banging, clashing, stink and electronica was fraying his nerves even halfway down the pier. From time to time a passing spirit ripples his skin into goosebumps even this side of the Gauntlet. The Modi stays where he is, though, smoking slowly, watching the sun move on the water.Night and day and night again. He leaves, he comes back, he leaves and comes back. Finally, the packhouse is quiet. Decker nudges the door open and stares for a minute. Plastic goop spelling glyphs on the walls. Little glass figurines in the windows. The lingering scent of incense. And... wtf...?
The Modi crouches down to get a better look at the little copper crinos coming toward him. So that's what Hyde was talking about. Like you'd do to a small dog, he holds out the back of his hand, fingers curled under. "Beep," says Decker, dubiously, and is rewarded by the copper crinos sniffing at his knuckles, or at least making the pretense, before turning and rambling off on all fours. Blue sparks jump between the wires.
Decker snorts a laugh to himself. Cool. Still squatting on his haunches, he shuffles after it, following it around the packhouse like an idiot. He watches the little crinos sniff here, sharpen its claws there, leap up on a table and then jump down. The machines it passes spontaneously turn on and off, surge and hum.
Finally, the Modi can't resist anymore. While the copper crinos' back was turned (it was digging through a pile of junk to get to a dead telephone baseset, which it then cannibalizes to add chips and wires to itself), he reaches out gingerly to pet its head... closer... closer... closer...
"OW MUTHAFUCKER!" Decker comes slamming out of the packhouse, dodging a ball of St Elmo's fire and shaking his zapped hand. "OW. Shit!"
(tristan)
The godi has been busy, and the modi comes running out of the packhouse cussing, and nearly knocks Tristan off his feet as he barrels past. A blink, or two, and the pretty boi kin decides... well, sometimes it's simply best not to ask. A wise kin knows when to keep his mouth shut.Sometimes Tristan is wise.
Then again - he finds the little Copper Crinos inside and reacts almost like Decker, tipping his head and watching it curiously. He sets down the groceries, and studies the little thing as it studies him in return. He reaches out to touch it - but unlike Decker, he sees the arc of blue sparks as a warning, and snorts shaking his head. "Cute." But he's not about to touch it. Nope. nuh uh.
So he goes about putting the groceries away, and makes himself useful for a bit, before slipping out again. He doesn't stick around the packhouses much any longer unless there's a specific task he is needed to perform. Past experience proved it's never a good idea, and without James' presense, he simply does his good deeds, straightens up, and lets himself out again.
Little does he know, he's been marked.
Back to the over the garage apartment he goes, to gather his things for tonights street corner performances that continue to keep a roof over his head - well, that and the lessons he teaches, etc. Stepping inside the apartment, he hits the button on his answering machine and listens to the messages as they beep through one by one. Nothing of real importance, nothing that makes him have to rush right out, or anything. And certianly nothing that speaks to the heart.
A sigh, slight. But it's shaken off, soon enough, pretty boi style. He moves to the little kitchenette, and sets a kettle on for water to boil for some ramen before hitting the streets. As the water heats, he moves to the bedroom, and changes quickly into clean jeans, wifebeater, and flannel overshirt. Socks and boots, and he's almost ready to go again. To the kitchen again, only to be assailed by a blast of smoke rolling his way. coughing, he blinks and quickly grabs the pan and turns it over, dousing the flame started by a towel left too close to the stove. Ugh. Stupid mistake, there, Tristan m'boy!
The small flames easily doused, he now has a mess of soggy half burned towel to clean up. He does so, and afterwards, grabs his pack and lighter, thinking nothing of it as he lights a cigarette and inahles deeply. Lighter and pack are tucked into his pockets as he goes about making his ramen, again - this time watching it the whole time to assure he doesn't burn the place down.
His ciggarette is smoked, his meal is made and eaten without further disturbances, and he cleans up quickly afterwards. Time to go. He grabs his violin, his jacket, and makes sure he has everything he needs for the day with him. Pausing to light another cigarette, he flicks repeatedly only to finds his bic almost out of fluid. Have to get another on the way. He tucks his unlit smoke back into the pack and tosses the bic lighter into the garbage. Our pretty boi hero then grabs his Violin case, locks the door behind him, and heads out to his most lucrative corner to play the evening away.
Behind him, they have all they needed. They claimed the Eagles, they claimed the kin - there was one kin missing, however, and it is there that they make a limited judgement call, and where the bic, oft flicked, the flint heated with the effort, and just enough fluid to make the elementals happy.... it finds paper, and flares into flame. Tongues of fire lick greedily, and spread [should have taken out that garbage, pretty boi...] and soon catching onto bigger and better things.
...Let Chicago - or at least this Garage/Apartment - Burn... but save the Eagles. Just a warning for one who entered the packhouse. Those consumed once will not be consumed again. This one, however was not offered - and nice or not, Fire Elementals take their cue's seriously.
and most literally.
[burn, baby, burn]
(roxy)
Tongues of fire lick greedily, and spread (should have taken out that garbage, Tristan!!...) and soon catching onto bigger and better things.
. . .Let Chicago - or at least this Garage/Apartment - Burn... but save the Eagles. Just a warning for one who entered the pack house. Those consumed once will not be consumed again. This one however was not offered - and nice or not, Fire Elementals take their cues seriously.. . . . and most literally.
[burn, baby, burn]
The apartment shrouded in the silence… the burning embers rise up as anything and everything flammable becomes fuel for the growing fire. The Fire Elementals dancing around joyously with their chaotic ballet, dropping a current of black smoke once cheap polyester fabrics ignite. The inferno spreads quickly from the kitchenette to towards the bedrooms. Here is where the repercussions begins
One kinfolk not taken into account for and bound under the protection of the Godi’s protection wards; the flames lick across the door to Moira’s bedroom as the young Fenrir girl was asleep. The wisp of girl tosses and turns between the sheets, kicking at them with her legs. The temperature in the room escalates from the heat outside her door, beads of sweat glisten on her skin to dampen thick, chocolate curls to her face. Wafts of crude black smoke slip beneath the crack under the door. She breathes in a heavy inhalation, fumes and smoke, filling her lungs to make her choke.
There is a sudden twist in the girl’s gut, a stabbing pain as her stomach twisted in to knots instincts taking over to make Moira wake up. She bolts upright in the bed, narrowing her eyes through the vague haze of smoke. She looks around, touching a hand to the damp sheets, tossing them aside as bare feet hit the floor. In three strides, the girl hits the door. Her hand reaches for the doorknob, but stops. The sensation of heated metal tingled barely against her fingertips, like hovering your hand over a hot stove. She pulls her hand back, sliding it over to the wooden door instead. Heat burned across the tender pads of her palm and fingers, Moira lets out a startled cry jerking back, fumbling over a pile of laundry on the floor and collapses against the side of the bed. Cobalt blue eyes can see the bright orange glow just under the door; she starts to cough.
Panic. It crashes into her hard and fierce; a hand pulls up the collar of her shirt as she scrambles to her feet, coughing through thin material. Moira makes her way to the window, fighting it with one hand, then two before throwing it open. She looks around, grabbing for her knapsack beside the bed, slinging it across her shoulder and starts to climb out the window. The door to her bedroom starts to turn black, holes eaten through as the fire spreads into her bedroom. It was a risky jump to the ground from her second-story window. A glance towards the rickety fire escape that is within her arm’s reach and the Kin takes her chances with it. Moira wiggles and shimmies onto it, scraping her left thigh across the rusted metal, feeling it bite into soft, bare skin. She winces in pain, a quick glance down to the little red welts start to bleed, upon her thigh.
No time for that now. . .
Another minute and the fire had invaded her bedroom, consuming everything in its wake; Moira carefully makes her way down the fire escape, slipping to the ladder. She kicks at it with her foot, growling, as the rusted thing would not move. Without thinking, Moira grabs the bottom steps, lowering herself down until she dangled there. A look back to see the fire spreading across the top portion of the apartment, it hadn’t reached the garage yet. She lets go and drops the few extra feet between fire escape and ground, landing ungracefully on her ass. She picks herself up, dodging cars as she trots across the street away from the fire. Her hand moves into her rescued knapsack, finding her phone. She calls 911, screaming frantically at the poor operator in her panic-state to send a Fire Department. Eventually... Tristan and Imogen will get the same phone calls as well...
--
Another fifteen to twenty minutes later, Moira not the only person to make a distress call… Paramedics and Fire personal litter the street outside the Apartment garage in the Riverfront, dousing out the flames that ate building.
(hyde)
Gettng back just before dawn he was curious. He'd seen the fire at Tristans house and he hadn't gone umbral but it was a big coiencidence. So.... he slipped umbral at the pack house with a little limp wristed, fiddle toating effigy of the kinfolk and burned it for the fire elementals there. Just in case... showing them he (( tristan)) wasn't to be harmed either.The elementals giggled and danced and froliced all happily, wich made hyde think that yeah they might have done it... but you couldn't tell a fire not to burn any more than youcould tell water to be dry.
So he left it at that.
Sipping back into the real world. Going birth form an craling under the lean too in the corner. Curling up in his "den" and sleeping.
(james)
while Hyde is working on his voodoo Decker wisely stays out
he didn't know what it was about, but it freyed his nerves from halfway down the pier
another of the Eagle's resident Full Moons, however, isn't so easily fended off
James keeps his distance quietly observing what preparations the Godi makes
Frankenweiler roots inspiring some level of curiosity for the whole complicated ordealthe Gnawer knows battle - claws and fists and fang and the general splattering of evil-doers
this whole Spirit Talker rigmarole is as foreign as it is fascinating
he did, however, know better than to interrupt with any of the endless string of questionsback and forth across the Gauntlet Hyde weilds his deals
dark eyes watch from beneath curtain of raggedy dreads
making mental note of the little details that hold such gargantuan significance
(..... better to be aware before risking a detrimental blunder, yes, Jamey-boy?....)
silently studying what he can from what he deems as the most suitable teacher
analyzing the parts and pieces that he, himself, can suitably pitch in come tomorrowthere will be time for questions and explanations later
now? there's a sympathetic cringe as the metal spirit doesn't powwow as well as planned
the Godi retreats with little more than a flicked glance of contact between packmates
animate Copper Crinos receives more in the form of muted sound effects as it passes by
(.... be-beep....beep....)
then the guttermutt settles in for the night, automatic sentinel while the Fenrir deservedly rests
the spirit work may already have their haven dutifully guarded
but James isn't one to let effort go unacknowledged, or unappreciated
occasionally following the distal glow of the Copper Crinos exploring their denby Hyde's morning meditation, the Gnawer is long gone
returning only somewhere towards the sun's afternoon descent
just in time to see Decker's hasty, spotlighted, departure
and can't stifle the rumbling laugh no matter how hard he triescuriosity's supposed to kill the cat.... thus.... singe the Garou?
perhaps this is yet another thing that James simply.... doesn't want or need to know
checking the doorway for anymore outgoing fireballs before ducking inside
the weighty plastic bag carried in his left hand makes a direct line for the now-working freezer
a smaller package wrapped in white butcher paper remains in the drummer's calloused grip
that's carted over to the Godi's lean-to castle snugly nestled in the corner
he doesn't knock or call out - doesn't need to - nearing presence of pack works well enough
choice cut of venison set within easy reach of the proverbial 'door'
joined by a six-pack of Pepsi still beading from the cooler"Earn'd'ih."
the meat yet uncooked, for James wouldn't presume to know what's preferred, and it's something for Hyde to enjoy all his own.... it's obviously the priciest of butcher-block cuts James was able to procure for meeting the pack's unlimited hunger pangs, likely not one he finagled for pennies or free..... but the Godi's sacrifice didn't come cheap, either
[in progress]Posted by james at 12:00 AMJune 22, 2005.06.22.05. - falling eagle [decker] / ferarri execution [roxy-imogen-hyde-aodhan-jody-taxi][riverfront]
(decker)
"Who'sa good kin?" Since Roxy stubbornly refused to uproot everything and relocate to downtown, she obviously wasn't part of that list. Not that Decker really cared. It did mean he ran a patrol down here every week or so, though. Or at least he called it that, but usually it was to filch a part or a tool from Roxy, while he works haphazardly on his latest pet project. Not a car this time: A/C for the dockhouse.Nod up to Imogen, too, with a barely perceptible slide of his eyes over her, and then past. "You leavin' already?"
And then to Roxy, 'cause he'd asked James to meet him here, "James 'ere yet?"
(imogen)
A smirk, glancing down at the dog, in paroxysms of joy for having its tummy rubbed. Back up. "That'll be the easy part."A glance toward Decker as he approached, eyes flicking, then away, as she smirks, "I was leavin' hours ago."
(decker)
He regards her through lazy eyelids. The crackle of full-moon rage is just starting to wear toward gibbous. Even so, there's a whisper of a smile on his face, crooked as ever. "Stay awhile longer," he asks of her, simply enough.(roxy)
Roxy never said anything about the damnable AC unit that she'd thought of fixing herself, to correct Decker's mechanical mistakes. She was better at it than him, but someone else had distracted her from the task. She did leave a set of tools back at the boat house for Decker to use, however.A sigh slips between the full line of lush lips, pressing them into a thin line as she frowns up at the Modi, "Nah, ain't seen'im yet." One of her dogs sprawled out on the ground besider, lifts its head up to blow air in the Get's direction, before it lays back down. The wet spot of beer on the pavement nearby was starting to dry up now, though the smell clings to the air and Roxy's jeans.
"Haven't seen James yet," glancing him over, "Yar ass better not been stealin' from mah garage again. I left ya tools back at the boat house." She snorts.
(james)
not there yet.... not quite
but showman born and bred that he is
James isn't too far off his cue
something about fashionably late or other such bullshitentrance from stage left is a weathered building one-half-block south
lanky frame turning the corner just after premonistic scuff-step of boots
cigarette smoke trail tagging along as entourage of dissipating haze
dreads bouncing on the Gnawer's shoulders as jawline skips up
pack trademark gesture serving as a catch-all salutation for the group just ahead(imogen)
"Hmm." Is her only vocal response to Decker's request, as she replaces her keys in her pocket, an answer without words, glancing toward James, and his eagle salute.Interesting. Almost like old times.
((Sorry so slow, Adam justgot home.))
Damon Sands (6:58:06 PM): since it was so long ago, i'm just gonna assume James got the executive summary of the pack erik-discussion from decker soon after they had it.
Grraack (6:59:07 PM): works..... but you might wanna run it past me after you post *L*
Damon Sands (7:00:25 PM): basically -- the consensus was that he probably didn't come back because he knew the eagles wouldn't have spared him, with Kemp voicing the secondary thought on everyone's minds that he just didn't want them anymore and wanted to hang with the knights now
Damon Sands (7:00:33 PM): and the kin should stay away from him because he was tainted
Damon Sands (7:00:47 PM): and he wasn't welcome on eagle turf anymore
Damon Sands (7:01:51 PM): (as for what had actually happened... all decker heard from cliona that erik came back ubertainted, asked her to call an avatar of fenris to cleanse him, and then asked the knights to back him. he doesn't know what actually went down at the fenris-meeting, i think. and erik never told him, or any of the eagles, anything)
Damon Sands (7:02:11 PM): --that's the rough state of james' knowledge at this point in time, before decker launches into what happened yesterday *LOL*(decker)
Decker snorts. "Jus' need one'a those..." he makes a ratchet-cranking motion, "...bolt whassits."Since it looks like Imogen's stateissue wasn't moving anytime soon, Decker levers himself up to sit on its time-dulled hood. The soft, spongy springs give easily beneath his weight, and if he were to jump off the whole car would rock up and down a coupla times like a boat at dock.
Speak of the devil: he returns Juke's nod, slower. Some of his humor seems to depart him. "Talked with Erik," he says to what's now well and truly his oldest packmate. Of the original crew, only they remained. "Yesserday."
(james)
the initial expression across the Ahroun's face had been one of easy familiarity
easy, if forever-crooked, grin curving itself around the orange filter of the Camel
perhaps it foreshadowed a nostalgic thought that mirrored Imogen's on the picture-album reunion
riiiiight up until he catches what shifts behind his Alpha's acknowledged returnsafe to say he mirrors the Modi's diminished humor instead of kin's wry recollection
"Izzat so..." somewhere above the flattened line of his mouth, deep umber gaze searches for the Fenrir's stormy grey, connection steadfast even though head tilts in rather canid curiosity contrasting what caution lowers his tone - oldest packmates of the original crew, even so far as to consider Decker is James' oldest friend amongst the very same and any others the guttermutt can name or remember "... An'?"
(roxy)
"James, please tell me ya brought beer?" Roxy calls out to the 'Gnawer, the grin spreading on her face tilts up to look at him. A glance down to the dog sprawled on the concrete, she reaches out to unclip the leash on its collar. "Go home, Decker. Git outta here." a soft slap to the rott's ass and then stands up, folding the leash up.The dog bolts up suddenly, the command and freedom, along with the growing culmination of Rage, aids in sending it on its way. It was intelligent to find its way back to the garage, trotting off down the sidewalk only to pause briefly back at Roxy. A loud snort cuffs from its muzzle as the dog trots off to disappear into an alley. Home wasn't that far away.
Roxy shoves the leash into her back pocket, swiping her hands over her denim-clad ass to clean them of dog hair, listening.
(imogen)
Jukebox and Imogen glances his way, before leaning back against the car, head turning to glance at Decker. In this, she hasn't got much to say anyway.Then her eyes flick away to follow the sight of the dog, hurrying off in search of home.
(decker)
Decker's brow draws into a frown. His picks at the callouses on his palm, ripping away the toughened skin in places to expose the new, soft skin beneath, his mouth twisting in a faint wince as he pulls too hard and peels too deep. Then that'll callous and toughen over. And he'll pick that. And on and on. You hurt, you heal, you hurt, you heal. You toughen up.Whatever.
"'s tainted." He shrugs a little, his elbows on his bent knees and his feet on the bumper of the state-issue. "Don't got tha gift 'n even I could feel it. 'N he ain't comin' back. Ain't none'a it a surprise, but." It's left unfinished. A second shrug concludes it.
(aodhan)
Aodhan.
Fianna prince, once a pauper of a completely different variety than your average American guttermutt. As ever, he's clad all in black . . . not because he's so painfully deep and his soul is torn to shatters or some such goth bullshit, but because it looks good on him, and he likes it. Well pressed summer dress pants. Shiny shoes. One of those sweaters that all the good little metrosexuals are wearing.He's everyone's favorite Latin playboy, and his Ferrari is pulling into a parking lot near you, Dr. Imogen, Ms. Roxy, and Messrs. Decker and James.
It's a pleasure to see you all, of course.
He parks, lights a cigarette and eases out of the sweet ride, headed for something terribly important; he's aware of the gathering but pays it little mind, for the moment at least. Though, at the sight of the hot bleach-blonde, he makes sure his top is up, and his alarm is set - an odd little smirk slants itself her way.
Care to try again?
(james)
"Sorry Rox, I'm dry'." the Gnawer's attention side-shifts to the hopeful call, shoulders rolling helpless shrug apologizing for the lack of preperation on his part, and for a moment the friendly curve returns to his lips - a breif moment "Promise I'll make't up a yeh."silence follows the summary explanation as James looks back to the Modi
time filled by the careful inhalation and ash-flick gesture attending the Camel
pink tongue smoothing out over his lips while waiting to form the first words of constructing reply
the haunted chill hardening earthen eyes is likely not related to the callous-peel inspired wince
subdermally, the bristling tension is far more palpable from the raggedy Fostern
smoke-ring exhale empties lungs, and then frown closes mouth, and then...."Buh...?"
sure, it isn't unexpected, but the shrug doesn't provide a satisfactory conclusion
(roxy)
Ah.... sweet symphony of mechanical music strikes a cord in Roxy's ears. Her head turns, catching a glimpse of the oh-so-familiar black Ferrari that she totalled. Her body pivots, turning away from everyone as the Fianna Princeling caught the Peroxide Fox's full attention.Her left hand reaches up to touch her cheek bone, right over the fresh pink scar, once a wound had been from the pistol-whipping Aodhan gave her. She catches the little smirk on his face, flicking her gaze back to the care.
Care to try again?.... Does anyone hear the bell ring for round two?
She clears her throat, canting her head down to slide her eyes over her shoulder at James. "Damn straight ya'll make it up to me," the curve of full lips pulling back into some secret grin just for James. Her attention moves back to the Ferrari and Aodhan, "hmm..."
(decker)
His back is to the street, and the black Ferrari.
This is a good thing.And when James prompts, Decker just shoots him a glance. And shakes his head wordlessly, reaching out for the cigarette he didn't need, the taste he didn't even like.
After he takes a drag, and long after the subject seems to have been put to rest with a few short sentences, he clarifies. "But 's still diff'rent ta see 'n hear it."
There's more, of course. What was said, precisely, over Lexi's grave. What accusations were wielded, what confessions made. But those he didn't care to think of, much less speak of. It's ironic. He'd said to Erik, you've got too many secrets now. And here he was, keeping secrets.
But he'll give James this at least: "Hyde was there too." And he passes the cigarette back.
(aodhan)
Apparently, the something terribly important is a nearby McDonalds, the golden arches calling to a pallatte that would really rather die before imbibing any of the reheated cat shit they call food. But, pack calls . . .Car thief, three o'clock. Thinking too loud, as always.
Over to McDonalds he goes, eyes not straying far from the grouping once he meets up with Jody and pal.
"You know, all you had to do was stop by the apartment. There's cash there, specifically for you and Sam."
Eyes home in on Imogen for a moment, heavy and unreadable, even to his packmate. Bloody hell, will he never be free of random sightings of the good doctor?
(imogen)
Roxanne's change of attention toward the Ferrari, brings Imogen's there. The good doctor glances at the car and it's metrosexual occupant and then away again to Decker as he smokes the cigarette.She pays attention but does not participate. (( Reboot! ))
(aodhan)
An eyebrow raises as he looks (likely down - he's 6'3, after all) at the impatient little bit, wondering why, exactly, she's so antsy."Hola, bonita. It's a pleasure to meet any friend of a packmate's."
He oozes that Latin charm one sees in movies or on TV, only it's real, and the playboy is right there, tactile, magnetic, and oh so sensual. If he keeps his mouth shut, there might be some kind of appeal . . . of course, he's not the type to keep his mouth shut, really.
(james)
under the watchful eye of any other day or conversation
cigarette theft would inspire chiding ire from the Gnawer Elderman
fully aware of Decker's sheer absence of desire for a stick that ain't filled with weed
tonight, however, it's handed over without playful comment or snickering jibe
no.... James' mouth is occupied with keeping firmly shut around the whip-lash reaction of instinct
(.... my, my, my... isn't this a tragically familiar series of events, Jamey-boy.....)
all but physically shoving down the rising tide of murderous bloodthe only sign he did so is terse nod to clarity
appreciating the respect to have earned at least that much
knowing there's more yet unsaid spiking a bitter shadow of irritation
though now is not the time, company, or place to delve into such secretive details
even if James fucking deserves it for what he's bled for across more than three years and states"Ain' easy a see y'r top dawg fall."
seems something the Ahroun is far too familiar with
it wouldn't take Freud to see that within downright venomous murmur
but they've all got things they'd rather not think of nor share
his own blanketed by the sharp smirk following retrival dragyou hurt, you heal, you hurt, you heal, you hurt, you toughen up
(... didn't somebody famous say that?)(aodhan)
"Bonita just . . . never mind."Cigarette's finished and tossed away, eyes landing on the fire and moonlight kin across the street again, then on the suicide blonde . . . no way is he letting his car out of his sight - though Jody's comment does get a kind of sneer as he gives Raine another look, shaking his head as he pulls out his wallet, handing Jody - no, strike that - handing Raine a couple of twenties.
"Get what you want, I have to keep an eye on my car."
(decker)
Ask him yesterday, as he walked away from Erik, and he'd never believe he'd say this now. But put the fork in the road before him, and this is what comes out his mouth when his eyes snap up full of fire:"He ain't fallen yet."
Bitten off. Tense-jawed. Glowering. Quiet, and hard as stone. The whiplash response subsides a moment later. He exhales, and with it goes his rage. The air is breathable again.
"Fenris himself spared 'im. He ain't fallen yet. He just ain't with us no more. If he ever was." There's a thread of bitterness there. He sniffs, a harsh sound that wouldn't in a million years be mistaken for sentiment. The Modi slides off the car hood, his beat-up old pseudo-skechers hitting the pavement solidly. "Guess eagles always did fly alone."
(roxy)
It's funny how karma has an odd way of catching up with a person, Roxy keeps a vigilant watch on Aodhan, Jody and the girl, Raine. Her nose wrinkles up as she slides her eyes back to the Ferrari. There was an itch under skin to boost it a second time. Not because she wanted the damn thing, but just to spite that latin princeling.Her body rocks back and forth on the toes of her boots, tight clothes of jeans and a wife beater stretched over the curves of her lean, muscular frame. She pulls arms back, reaching until fingers meet and clasp together. She wiggles and stretches until the shoulders joints pop, releasing some tension, and then loops her arms back over her head.
Decker's words catch on the Glass Walker's ears, she looks over at him, hearing every snippet of conversation. Like Imogen she chose not to comment.
(aodhan)
"Si, just like that. Go get your food - I'll be at the car, if you girls want a ride somewhere."That'll never not sound dirty, when he's talking to girls nearly young enough to be his daughters. Christ. Sometimes, he wonders what the fuck Gaia was thinking, with this particular match up - and other times, he thinks he knows. Right now, of course, is one of the former times.
Jody and her friend go inside to get their food, and he walks (stalks) back across the street to lean on his Ferrari, those black hole eyes for once not straying immediately to Imogen, but instead resting heavily on Roxy. An eyebrow quirks at her, and there's a little nod towards the passenger seat; an invitation, perhaps, though one that should probably be checked for poison.
(james)
Decker's response hammers back with inferno's brutal force
impervious stone glowering as avalanche threat is held at bay
most normal Garou in their right mind would submit before the carefully tethered storm
James either isn't a normal Garou, or has simply stepped out of his right mind
(... a Gnawer packed up with Get for how many years now? was there ever a question....)
cockily shooting back a scythe-swipe grin in the face of his Alpha's ire"Dunn say tha', did I?" cigarette outheld like some delinquent version of a peace offering, probably much too calm for his own good "Jus' that'ih ain' easy a see."
the air is breathable again, tension ebbing away with heartbeats lost in time
sarcasm returning with the blythe shrug of commentator's inconsequence
stinging lash of remorse sheltered in the smirking grin"Thought they pair f'r life, too....."
(imogen)
*Hyde had dropped off the ritual componits back at the hanger. Nothing much had been going on there so he was back out walking. Movment. Energy of the Metis is hard to burn off. Always charged because of their birth. So here he was again out walking.Same as he everwas. That was a good way to describe Hyde. 6’6” if he’s an inch, broad shouldered, narrow hips. Moving with a sort of economical grace that can’t be trained. Only inborn. Dressed like he is much of the year. Hot or cold. Steel capped combat boots, old BDU pants tucked into them. A wide leather belt with rectangular buckle, two tongues. A thin buckskin shirt bracers on his forearms. A thin steel link chain around his neck with a small Thor’s hammer on it. The face is stern with out quite making harsh, Nordic Ice, eyes dominating. Hair is shaved off every few days but it’s clear he’s not bald, the hairline is dark and distinct. Still with all of this, the most striking feature isn’t his size, his grace or his power. It’s his hands. Strange hands. Two thick fingers and a thumb on each. Abnormal. Mutated. STRANGE. And Hyde makes no effort what so ever to hide them. Never has. Never will. *
(elizabeth roberts)
Somewhere along the way she had taken a very wrong turn. She wasn't lost exactly, she just wasn't entirely sure where home was from here. She had been pretty sure it was just a few more blocks. There didn't seem to be too many people out and she wasn't particularly afraid of walking alone, she did have pepperspray in her purse and she'd done great in her self-defense class. So she strolled along the waterfront, knowing if worse came to worst she could always call a cab once she found a street sign that is.She looked at of place though, in her khaki shorts and white t-shirt, keds not making too much noise as she walked. Her hair was loose around her face, and her bag was slung over one arm. She tried to walk confidently but it was difficult in a strange place in a new town. Greenish grey eyes kept scanning the shadows as she moved along.
(roxy)
Roxy looks back at Aodhan, sees his little grin and the invitation towards the passenger seat, narrowing deep blue eyes, "FUCK!" a sudden burst of heated irritation rings in her voice as she looks away. More like spins on her feet with the unnatural grace of a jungle cat.Muscle coil up under tattooed skin, lifting her hands over her arms to run calloused fingers across the detailed celtic ink etched into her right bicep. She begins to pace back and forth, swinging her eyes over to the present Eagles and Imogen.
(imogen)
Roxanne curses, and begins to pace, and it's not hard to follow the line of her eye... back to Aodhan.The redhaired kinfolk regards the Fianna coldly - all it takes is a breath of the air to taste the similarities in breeding, Fianna to Fianna. Well, he'd said he hung around her because he liked how she flayed his skin off his bones with her eyes.
There it is again.
And her eyes drop away.
(decker)
Decker just snorts.Hyde's coming down the street. The Modi sees him closing in and turns to face him, offering him the same old greeting he's offered everyone since ... hell, grade six. Or something like it. The old nod up, slow and casual.
Then Rox yells aloud, and he glances at her with a frown. "Tha hell you screamin' 'bout?" -- then Imogen develops her ice cold stare, and his glance shifts to her. Frown deepens. The grey-eyed Modi turns, following her sightline out... to Aodhan. And his Ferrari. He takes a moment to mark the pure breeding there, another to mark the Ferrari; he takes several moments thereafter, just staring, just frowning, just thinking. Could that...? Nah. Too convenient. Or was it?
Long after Imogen looks away he's still considering the Fianna, though he says nothing of it. He said he wouldn't ask. Didn't he? And Decker kept his promises.
But he never promised Roxy the same, "That the one with tha Ferrari?"
(aodhan)
"No, not yet. And it seems she's a bit irritated about it."And Aodhan? He's simply darkly amused, even at the flaying gaze of Imogen . . . maybe it's a good night after all. Winning friends and influencing people everywhere . . . it's what he does best, right?
"Where's your friend, and ready to go?"
(hyde)
*Hyde sees the group that he'd felt. A nod up to the Eagles as he approaches. The steel capped boots heralding his approach as clear as the imperial march.Coming up to the group he takes a moment to check six. then across the street. Up, always check up and back around.
A nod up given to James.
Breath taken in though his nose, Nordic ice eyes narrowing and he follows everyone's gaze to the shiny red phallic symbol. A snort and he tilts his head. A misshapen hand coming up to rub over todays stubble and he looks to Decker... then to Imogen.. then to Rox... then back to the car.
Then to James, a brow raised to see if he had a clue about it.
Then back to the car and the pretty boy beside it* Who's the fag?
(imogen)
At some point during his stare at Aodhan, Imogen's gaze settles on Decker, a brief touch of her eyes that is without discernable meaning as he considers the Fianna.After that moment, her gaze is elsewhere, and certainly, leaning against the car, she is not pacing, nor even moving, though she glances at Decker when he speaks, and then Roxanne for her answer.
(decker)
"Ask Roxy," his short reply to Hyde.(james)
Roxy cusses (....the fuck...)
Imogen peels (..... luckily not me....)
Decker snorts (.... was that humor?....)
Hyde arrives (..... s'up....)
Fianna lounges (....hm.)deep umber gaze follows the diverging paths of attention
half-beat behind the Modi's assessment of particularl well-bred stranger
questions already aire, however, leaves James finishing off his smoke in relative silence
glance strafing to address the Godi's wordless query"'r new fren'.... seemz li'e."
to gain the interest of all present members of Eagle?
there's got to be an interesting story about to unfold
(roxy)
Imogen's turned into the Ice Queen as she levels her trademark icy glare on Aodhan. Roxy's adrenaline pumps through her veins, itching to wipe the smirk off of Aodhan's face ... more like do something to the Ferrari.She stops, turned to face the trio, now a quartet with Hyde coming up to join the party. Her hands lift up to smooth back the short blond hair from face, barely feeling it brush against her cheekbones. Deep blue eyes meet Decker's gaze.
"Yeh, that's the one who hit me." she breathes out in a soft hiss, knowingly sealed Aodhan's fate to a beatdown, if Decker took it upon himself to so.
(hyde)
*He looks between them and Rox delivers the answer and the reaction is instant. Hydes eyes swing around to slam into Aodhan so hard that his breath might catch.Lips skin back silently and his thick fingers curl into fists.
Hit... Her.....
Those Nordic Ice eyes size up Aodhan and his side kick and his shoulders roll back.
But.... to give credit where it's due.. Hyde waits on Decker and James to call the play.
He knows his place in the pack, and leading the charge isn't it. He's the Godi. He watches their asses. He follows though.*
(aodhan)
"Mmm. Getting hot, Jody . . . ready for it? There's two of us, and by the looks I'm getting, I'd guess at three of them. Higher ranked, from what I hear."Murmured, quiet, lips barely moving as at last those heavy eyes land on someone other than an Eagle kin, his packmate.
(imogen)
Imogen arches an eyebrow at Roxy's reply."What did you do?"
(jody)
"Well if it comes to that I'm not gonna stand here and let either of us get pummeled."She hops up on the hood for a seat and opens her little box, pulling out some fries. "Do you want these?" She looks back in the box, seeming rather unconcerned with the pack of Get staring at them. Lupus+Young=Overconfident to the point of a fla.
(roxy)
Roxy coughs, dropping her eyes away as Imogen speaks up, folding her hands behind her head. "I... tried ta.." clears her throat, "--steal the Ferrari. It didn't go over well when he caught me, though."(decker)
Decker exhales.This time, it doesn't signal an end to his fury. Not even close. This time, the whole fuckin' street might as well freeze over. It's odd to think that of the ones here now, his pack and his kin, Imogen's the only one who has even the faintest inkling of the depths his temper can plumb. Because she's stood there once, that cold December morning on the seashore, when he could barely stand still for want of blood.
"He ain't got no excuse," the Modi bites out. He's already starting over, holding a hand out to Roxy as he passes. "Gimme yer fuckin' gun."
(imogen)
Roxanne answers, Imogen regards. Her arched eyebrow settles, and there's nothing in her features now.Decker speaks, and Imogen looks at him, eyes following as he moves. Imogen holds her tongue, her silence an abruptly stony thing, unbreachable.
All of those who think that Imogen is willing to contest anyone in all things, regardless of consequences are wrong.
She holds her tongue.
(james)
brow most certainly lifts at the Walker's final answer
gaze following the Modi's path of departure
then leveling back to Hyde in oblique slant
half-nod up suggesting they follow at flanking distance
it's obviously their Alpha's pre-claimed situation
but by no means is James going to fuck off like some oblivious cub
he'll back his packmates through any situation
whether it's bearing witness or lending the helping hand......oh this isn't going to be pretty at all
(aodhan)
Obsidian eyes land on Decker as he starts over, fingers already itching towards his own gun . . . left in the car, what the fuck was he thinking? And to Jody.Looks like it's coming to that, but only one's coming over at least. My guess? He's the redhead's German.
He's ballsy, the Fianna prince. Stupid, perhaps. Ballsy, definitely. He stands his ground.
(roxy)
Roxy jumps, more in surprise as Decker asks for her gun than out of any real fear. She reaches behind her, unclips the Glock from its hidden holster in the back of her pants. Roxy snaps the magazine out of it before handing it over to him without question.(decker)
"No. Leave it in." The magazine.(jody)
Jody glances up with her head still down, getting a glimps of the situation then looking back to her food.How do you want to do this?
(hyde)
*Hyde doesn't even have to LOOK to James. He merly nods and crosses over to take up flanking left.. as he's a left hander.. even with those strange hands he has a preference.Nordic Ice eyes watch as he falls in two steps behind Decker.
Turning he checks the rear again and then eyes backforward to Aodhan. And his little buddy.*
(roxy)
"Sonuva..." her eyes freeze over, leveling on the Modi as her hands draw back, snapping the magazine clip quickly back into the Glock with an experienced skill. She checks the safety, keeps it locked, and extends her hand out to Decker, offering him the gun. "Don't blow his nuts off."A side-glance to Imogen, rolling her shoulders back in a slight shrug as she turns to watch Aodhan and Jody at the Ferrari.
(aodhan)
Gun's in the car. Just you and me and fists - because I'm gonna hold on as tight as I can.She can feel it, however, that short fuse getting shorter by the second - and the part of him that craves blood and violence growing stronger as he waits, still lounging . . . cool to the last second.
Don't do anything stupid. By what bits I've heard here and there, just the one headed this way can kick both our asses, blind folded and with one arm tied behind his back. Besides, if he's who I think he is, he has a legitimate problem with me.
(jody)
If they are going to attack you for defending your property there is nothing legitimate about it.She sits the box down as the trio approachs, hopping off the car hood. Not ready to spring, persay, but not going to be caught prone either.
(decker)
Decker thumbs the safety right off, levels the gun, and begins to empty the entire clip into the side of the Ferrari. Methodically. Even calmly. Taking his time. No rage, no aiming -- he doesn't give a shit, really. But that car's a mighty big target, and Decker grew up in an NRA hotbed.Just standin' there, middle of the street. Shootin'. One bullet at a time, until Aodhan stops him. Or tries.
Come 'n dance, motherfucker.
Keep tha female outta this one, on totemphone.
7D10 Dice Roll: 1; 8; 6; 7; 7; 8; 6
7D10 Dice Roll: 7; 8; 8; 4; 3; 8; 9(hyde)
*A grunt from Hyde and a nod as he steps up. Eyes flickering to Jody and his head tilting left. Crack. Right. Crack. Then a smile spreading as decker assassinates the car* heh....(imogen)
Imogen isn't paying attention to Roxanne, or the stalking of Garou at her back, walking toward Aodhan. She presses fingers against the bridge of her nose, lifting her head to the sound of a gun firing.She must be numb to this by now. Or perhaps simply she hides it well, nothing hidden in her stare.
A glance at her watch. Perhaps to check the time. Perhaps setting an internal timer for how long before the cops come. It's riverfront. They have some time.
(james)
there's a part of the Gnawer that can't help but find amusement when the expensive Ferrari's executed
though with the business at hand his expression remains even
Yeh, boss as right flanking Garou sidesteps into Jody's clear line of sight"Hey." nod-up signalling she is precisely to whom he speaks "Step ov'r here a minit, wouldya?"
between the Ahroun and Godi - she'll be forcibly moved aside on delay
it's clear enough this bitchslap is going to be fairly squared one-on-one(roxy)
One bullet fires at a time from the barrel of her Glock, Roxy swings her gaze to estimate the damage done to the Ferrari. Maybe a bullet hole or two...Lips press together in a thin line, waiting for the click click click sound of an empty clip.
(elizabeth)
She couldn't help it. Someone might be hurt. Instinctivly she started towards the sound, keeping pace with the girl. One hand was fumbling in her oversized bag, hunting the cell phone to call 911 if need be.(hyde)
*Hydes eyes come around. Always watching the packs back. A nod to James to take Jody. He turns to intercept Lizzy* Lost kin... freakin' out. I'm on it... let meknow if you can't handel the lil one Drums.(jody)
Jody hrmmms and looks to Aodhan, then to James, and slowly... forced... starts walking to James.So many things to consider. Aodhan is pack, but said stay out of the way. James and Co. Are about to attack, but Aodhan says they are higher ranking....
Well rank means everything to the quasi-facist lupus breed, and it wins out in the end. But the walk is forced, and he face isn't very pleased.
"I don't know what this is all ab..." And she flinchs, wiping her head back towards the gunfire.
(aodhan)
Teeth grit as bullets punch through steel - she's from a day when cars were still metal instead of fiberglass and plastic - but those black hole eyes remain unreadable as he slowly steps around, eyes trained on Decker.Merengue, rhumba or tango, asshole . . . oh, asshole-rhya. Sorry.
He moves with an impossible ease, a quickness your average joe would think impossible, even without calling on his special gifts - handy, since he's none that would help. The car's a big target . . . he's not, so much. He stops, just within the Modi's circle of reach, looking down a tad - he's taller, but stringy-wiry where Decker is more obviously muscled.
Perhaps the Galliard has a deathwish.
"Much honor to be gained in destroying the property of another, I suppose. Or in taking what doesn't belong to one."
His chin jerking at Rox, his tone just barely kept level, hands twitching at his sides, aching to form fists . . . or better yet, to form claws.
(james)
guttermutt drops his jaw in a nod, though eyes don't leave his target
Haven't been gone that, Hyde
some of his amusement reflects across Totem's Phoneline
Jody's greeted with a fairly platonic, if crooked, grin"Dunn have details, m'sel' - but it's 'tween Deck'r 'n y'r pal. Ya dig?"
(eliz)
She came up on the scene, assessing the situation. No one seemed injured, no more shots fired but someone was still holding a gun. At Taxi's outburst, reaching out to put a semi-restraining hand on her upper arm. "Easy, we don't know what's going on..."(taxi)
Taxi started jogging, she just wanted to see if anyone was hurt, or if she could do anything. And she stopped when she saw the group. And she saw Jody. She wasn't sure if she should call out to her or not. The group seemed tense, and the fact that there was someone with a gun. She thought about it. "Jody!"(jody)
Jody dosn't even respond to James. Decker attacks her pack. She steps towards him and....((persumes Jame's will have no problem holding down a rank amature of a Theruge so there's your opening))
(taxi)
Taxi just watches. "Well, no we don't know whats going on, but I believe we have common sense enough to know that its bad."
(hyde)
*Hyde holds up one hand towards Lizzy* It's ok... Be calm.*Which coming out of the 6'6" Fenrir's mouth as gun fire echo's down the street and over the water might not really be all that calming but hey, he's making effort* It's a personal thing.
(imogen)
Imogen's attention follows the way to Hyde, and after a moment, she steps away, walking in that direction, circling wide around the disturbance, reaching down to her hip where her badge was still clipped.Back up for the Godi, should he seem to need it, as her steps take her slowly in that direction.
(james)
she doesn't listen and steps towards the two Garou in question and....
there's a fist wrapped in the back of her collar
easily hauling the young Theurge up off the ground and back to his side"Stay."
the growl portents no leeway in second warning
his firm grip's continued presence confirms it(lizzy)
"Hyde?" She didn't know anyone else in the city but she seemed surprised to hear his voice. "I'm calm just a bit uh, concerned." She's still watching the scene but she puts the cellphone back in her bag. "I heard gunshots, was afraid someone might be hurt..."(hyde)
*Hyde nods to her* Yeah... the guy with the red car beat up... um.. the other guys cousin. Something about barrowing the car... so.. he's taking out his displeasure of the hurting of his cousin on the guys car.. It's all ok. Just.. Family stuff.*Hyde thinks quick.* How are your fish?
(jody)
Jody gets lifted off the ground and kicks a bit, her face showin her anger over the incident."Rarf!" Yes. She actually said Rarf, a rather laughable imitation of a bark as english escapes her for a moment.
(eliz)
"as long as it's just someone's pride." She sounds uncertain, and a bit unhappy. The fish question throws her though and she answers distractedly. "The fish are fine, everything is unpacked. What are you doing out here?" Maybe she wasn't the brightest bulb, she actually seems genuinely surprised that he might be messed up in this.(decker)
As Aodhan stops in front of Decker the bullets stop. Six emptied. Four of them struck. One tire is flat; the two sports two holes, the quarter panel another. The other two ricocheted off somewhere.Decker lowers the gun, contemptuously slow, and reverses it in his hand. Gripped by the muzzle now, the grip free.
They get their first good look at each other, these two who have much more bad blood between them than a glass walker kin. Even if Decker isn't aware of that yet -- or perhaps only sneakingly suspicious. They get their first good estimate of each other, the tall svelte Galliard, smooth as sin, and the more compact, deadlier Modi, whose lean hard physique and dread silence called to mind nothing so much as a shark. After all, that was his first totem.
"Yer speakin' to me of honor?" Deceptively quiet, this; almost soft. "Tell me somethin'. 'Cause I'm too fuckin' dumb ta figger it out. What honor is there in hittin' a woman 'n a kin? You spineless fuck."
His hand flashes out. Faster than can be seen, he whips Aodhan across the face with the butt of the gun. But this is no mere blow from man to man. There is the strength of a totem behind it; the strength of a spirit-god. Once, not so very long ago, he dropped two of his tribemates, good strong Fenrir in their own right, with one punch apiece.
Aodhan looks like he's about to get four. Two on each cheekbone.
(taxi)
Taxi shook her head. "okay so we are going to watch these people.....beat up that dudes car. And just talk about...your....fish."(hyde)
*He uses his large body mass to shield Lizzy from the beat down happening behind him* out for a walk.. I have restless energy.... You setteling in ok?*The deep voice showing a bit of concern. He always did have a soft spot for kin*
(james)
STAAAAAY
mangled as his own unique version of English may be
James is damned sure of that command's clear delivery
in a second removed from the situation
his perplexion would actually be amusing
but the Ahroun wastes no time in making sure this next communication is CRYSTALJody's hauled up off the ground once again
hipshiftsweep taking her kicking legs off to the far left
uncerimoniously dumping the Theurge face-first on sidewalk without her feet to play catch
hard knuckles drive into the nape of her neck
the Ahroun's weight kneeling firmly on the lower portion of her spineRarf this.
(imogen)
Imogen is well out of hearing range of Decker's voice, but for a moment, the sound of it causes her to turn and glance that way.What honour is there?
She turns back, but does not intrude on Elizabeth and Hyde, caught somewhere in the middle, clipping her badge back to her side, her attention lifting to the buildings around them, looking for lights there.
(jody)
Jody still struggles, but they are hardly effective. In her birth form she could probably think of eight diffrent ways to get out of this. In this form? Not so much. She could always shift to her birth form, but that would probably break something given the contortions her body is currently in. Break something badly.She dosn't stop struggling for a second, but all her struggles amount to nothing.
(elizabeth)
She had forgotten Taxi for a second when she spied Hyde, too much going on all at once. She blinked, shaking her head. "Um, Taxi this is Hyde, Hyde, Taxi..." She trailed off, stepping around Hyde. She might not involved over the car but someone was getting hurt and she couldn't just stand by. "Sorry Hyde, I'm calling the cops." She was already moving towards James and Jody, rummaging in her bag, pepper spray was in there somewhere...(james)
"Thassa girl."the Gnawer Elder's freehand actually reaches to pat the Lupus Theurge on the head
struggles little more than wiggling in the current state of lockdown pin
James didn't grow up on the street and learn nothing about the art of grapple
leverage allows the opportunity to take a quick look around
appears Hyde is the one with the slippery kin to control
his is firmly embedding loose bits of rubble on the sidewalkthe summary of his expression alleviates the same lack of kidgloves will be used on Elizabeth should she get too close for comfort.....
but it's the throwdown to his left that gets next span of attention
(ao)
Again, that quickness shows - just enough to get out of the way, no attack. He's not quite that stupid. What honor is there, indeed . . .(rox)
Decker and Aodhan clash not to far from the blond, she steps backwards until she is clear of them. Putting the state issued car between them and her as a mock-shield. Her eyes quickly scan the area to place every in the near vicinity. She looks back at the fight, watching... waiting.(tax)
"hi Hyde." Taxi was following Elizabeth. Oh hell she didn't want Elizabeth to be pulvarized too. And she didn't know if the girl being hurt deserved it, so she would say nothing...but Elixabteh didn't need to be hurt.(hyde)
*Hyde sighs and nods to the Taxi person. She didn't LOOK like a Taxi, but hey, who the hell was he to say anything.Shaking his head to Lizzy* Really. It's best to stay out of it. The guy beat up his female cousin. Best to just let them get it out of their systems. Trust me on this. Guy things..
(imo)(
As Elizabeth says she is calling the cops, it brings Imogen's attention again, her eyes narrowing, her body weight shifting - preparation to move, but not yet moving.(rox)
Something clicks in Roxy's head, she is moving, rather quickly towards the group, towards Elizabeth, who is rummaging in her purse as the woman heads towards James and Jody. The fingers on her left hand curling up into a fist.(tax)
"Ms. please stop." She grabbed Elizabeth's arm.Taxi looked at Hyde. "Whatdid she do?" Taxi pointed to Jody.(eliz)
"THAT is not a guy thing..." She was watching the man holding what looked to be a young girl down. She resisted the urge to holler 'pick on someone your own size', fingers curling around the little can of pepper spray. "He's hurting her..." Okay maybe he's just retraining her but it looks painful. She popped the lid off the pepper spray, stopping only as Taxi grabs her arm.(HYDE)
*Hyde extends one long arm, when you're 6'6" tall you have a pretty impressive reach. He puts that arm inbetween Lizzy and where she was headed.* She's with the guy that beat up the girl. She wanted to get inbetween them and maybe get hurt. The guy is just keeping her from getting accidently hit or bit or something.(jody)
At this point Jody just keeps struggling, a few scrapes she got for her trouble already closing up before the eyes of all those close enough to notice.(imo)
"They're keeping her out of it, so things don't get worse than it already is," Imogen speaks up, closing the distance between them, her eyes dropping briefly to the pepper spray, and then raising again."Don't worry about the cops. They've already been called. But yeh might do best t'get off the street. This isn't the safest neighbourhood t'begin with," a glance over her shoulder, lifting her chin with a jerk, "And with this going on, it's no better."
(taxi)
"Thank you." Taxi looked at Imogen and then back at Elizabeth. "Just put that up it'll be okay." She meant the pepper spray. Though, she couldn't promise that everything would be alright.(eliz)
News that the cops have been called makes her feel a bit better, plus she already mostly trusts Hyde. She relaxes some but there is still some tension in her. She lowers the hand holding the pepper spray, looking over the scene once more, kind of double checking so to speak. Intelligent eyes focus back on Imogen, questioning.(hyde)
*Hyde nods* She's right, we should give them some room. Don't want to be right up on them if the police come.
You don't want to get detained for assult with your spray thing.
*His deep voice calm as he gently tries to herd Lizzy and Taxi back**Over the totem phone he asks absently*
"You're not like.. grinding her into the ground behind me are you?"(aodhan)
A swing and a miss, a glancing blow (that'll bruise), another miss, and CRACK a connection, shattering bone and blurring vision - teeth are gritted, and the Fianna prince takes his lumps; he's not proud of himself for hitting the girl, after all. Even if she was taking something he'd have given freely, had she asked. Even if she had been about to run into a wall. Or something, as Aodhan's player doesn't remember the exact details.The voice, when he speaks, holds none of what he's thinking or feeling, and is only slightly less smooth than usual.
"About as much honor lies in taking something that would have been given freely, with but a word."
Slowly, his hand moves to his pocket, hitting the disarm button and the one that lets down the top, backing to get the things he needs from it . . . not one, but two guns, and a cassette tape. Odd, in such a vehicle, but there none the less. Keys are tossed on the seat, and he's still holding on tight . . .
"Do what you want with it. And let her up, por favor."
(james)
kid's got moxy - something the Full Moon can appreciate
though it does little in the way of manipulating the beartrap of his hold
for all intents and purposes, James is the picture of collected ease in comparison
balancing his weight and leverage to a more comfortable position
(.....for him, most likely....)
and clear view of his Alpha's inpromptu lesson on Honor.....no. the mental response is... dry.... at first, followed by a dash of irritation Just sitting on her cause the meaning of "stay" didn't seem to be in her vocabulary.
soon enough, any observer can discern he's not physically assaulting the girl
merely using enough force to counter her current level of squirm
all he's concerned about is keeping her securely fastened away from the scuff"Gotta name, kid?"
(tax)
Taxi chuckles and backs up. "This is messed up." She looks at Hyde and then Elizabeth. she sees Hyde's hands and would have mentioned something about them but decided not to, and looked at her ownexrtemely large hands. Ah being a metis...(imogen)
Elizabeth looks at her questioningly, and all she receives from the slight, but indomitable woman, is a flat stare in return, before she repeats, "I'd like to ask you both t'get off the streets." The woman is clearly not American - her accent is european of a sort. British, maybe."Fer yer own safety, if you would," she says, gesturing in the direction in which Hyde was herding them.
(rox)
Roxy stops, turning her head back as she hears Aodhan. A hand reaches up to run fingers across her forehead. The other hunts for the cellular phone in her pocket. She pulls it out, flipping it open and starts to dial a number.(tax)
Taxi glanced at Imogen and just shook her head. If she didn't want people around she shouldn't have started a brawl in the streets.(eliz)
She allowed herself to be herded, not like she could have overpowered Hyde anyway, conceding the point that he might be right about being detained by the cops. She hadn't done anything wrong but she didn't want to take a chance on anything ruining her record and maybe costing her her RN. "Taxi, have you got a safe place to stay tonight?" Refocusing on the girl and Hyde.(jody)
Jody mummbles out some insults in Dog the best she can. Its funny all the others she grew up thought she was slow, when learning that bastard language just proved she was smarter then they could even comprahend."I am Jody..."
(hyde)
*Hyde notices Taxi's hands and feet and tilts his head. Breathing in though his nose and letting Lizzy talk to Taxi. If she was focoused on the girl she wasn't focoused on Decker rearranging the guys face.Bonous.*
(tax)
"Not really. but I'll be okay, if all else fails I can go back to my friend's apartment." She looked over at Hyde.(tax)
Imogen doesn't follow the herding. If they're leaving, it doesn't matter. And her car is back there, and if she has one more car issue this year, it's going to become a cliché.(eliz)
She nodded, tempted to insist Taxi take some money for a hotel or else crash at her place, but she doesn't want to scare her off. " I think it might be best if we get on out of here then. Not the healthiest environment." She forces a half-smile, not happy with the situation but not really in a position to do more.(hyde)
*He nods to LIzzy and Taxi.* You going to take the El? I could walk you to the platform...
*He doesn't look back. Somone would tell him if they needed a hand. A nod to Taxi when she looks him over closer. It's not hard to guess about Hyde if you knew what to look for*(decker)
Decker doesn't move to stop him. He's controlled, motionless -- seething.But as Aodhan turns to speak to James, turns to go, he interrupts. Quiet as he is, his words slice right through all others.
"One more thing, Fianna." He waits for the other to look at him, and then takes a step forward. They're half an arm's reach from each other now; the eyes of the Fenrir are deadly. "Stay away from Imogen. I don't ask twice."
He had nothing but a hunch. But damned if he wasn't itching for a good excuse. Those hurricane eyes hold Aodhan's for another moment, and then he nods at the car with a jerk of his jaw.
"Now take yer car 'n go. We don't fuckin' want it."
(rox)
On the phone, Roxy fixes her eyes on the Ferrari, reading the plate numbers. "Jasper," a pause, "Hold on a min-- never mind." She clips the cellular phone closed, shoving it back into her pocket. Her arms fold across her chest, watching Aodhan exit in the damaged car.(imo)
Aodhan exits, as do several others, and Imogen heads to her car, keys clanking as she reaches the car door, for the third time to open it and get inside to leave.(james)
dreads shift as his head tilts a bit to catch the grumblesnarled insults
half paying attention to the strange tongue that aaaalllmost seems familiar
yet it's still foreign enough to translate no further than intent's distinct tone
mainly following the progress between Decker and Mr. GQ Fianna"Jamez."
she'll have to forgive the lack of handshake officializing howd'yados
closest she'll get is a hand reversing it's previous downward haul
weight shifting suddenly as Decker dismisses the Fianna
stretching to his feet and taking Jody off the sidewalk with him
soon as he's sure she can balance on her own - the contact breaks
chin tipping back towards her packmate to signal permission to return
striding back to his own crew without much more wasted time(jody)
Jody apperently leaves with Aodhan. ((*shrugs*))(tax)
Taxi sighed and figured after hearing one of them call the guy who got beaten a Fianna she figured it was some sort of garou thing after all. She looked at Hyde again, clearly not moving, watching everyone clear out. "Nice hands, remind me of my own...except I think you've won the worst battle out of most of us." She smiled, at Hyde, showing that she wasn't poking fun at him, just bringing up the similarities as she began to slowly walk away.(hyde)
*After getting Lizzy to the platfom he looks to Taxi when she says that* I bear them with pride. It wasn't my sin.(tax)
She nodded, looking at her feet. "I just figure there is no way to hide them...especially my feet...I just hide what needs to be..tail...and all." She sighed, adjusting her jeans to make sure it wasn't noticable.(decker)
Decker watches the Ferrari until it's gone. Then, coming back, he shoves the gun at Roxy. He's still scowling. "Yer some kinda stupid, tryin' ta steal a Garou's car."(hyde)
*Hyde nods* Yeah... you new round here?
*He jerks his head for her to walk with him back up the block towards DeadlyDecker and FoxyRoxy*(rox)
Roxy takes the gun shoved at her, pulling out the magazine to check the clip, empty. She slams it back inside and tucks the gun away. "Here's the thing, shugah," chin lifting up a notch, "I didn't know he was a Garou until after he caught me."(tax)
Taxi follows him. "Yeah been here two weeks. Pretty new."(james)
back in the proximity of more.... agreeable.... folks of the Nation
James takes a bit of brick as his own personal perch of the moment
shoulder leaning against the rough lines of building's brick wall
digging his pack and Zippo from cargo pocket and lighting one on up
not exactly staring at the lecture that's about to begin
but close enough hear it without a problem
politely adjusting his gaze towards the approaching pair(hyde)
*He nods* Been in germany a while myself but came back pretty recently. You a Gnawer?
*She looked like one anyway*(taxi)
Taxi smiled. "Yeah. I'm a gnawer, yourself?"(hyde)
*He shakes his head* Hyde, Three Fingered. Godi of the Fenrir. Eagles pack.. got somone you should meet.*Walking back up the street he nods up to James* James... Taxi.
*A wave of one of those 3 fingered hands. Tada. Hyde's just finding all sorts of shit latly*
(taxi)
She smiled at Hyde and then looked to James. "Hello James."(decker)
She's giving him attitude now?He wheels on her, his rage bristling like invisible hackles. "Shut up. SHUT up. Don't gimme that righteous bullshit. Not after I jus' broke someone's face fer somethin' you started. You fucked up. You know it. You brought this shit on yerself. I shouldn'a even stepped in on yer behalf, 'cept I cain't stand -- "
He clamps off, suddenly, and turns to go. 'M goin', the terse announcement over the totemphone. A beat later, 'N thanks.
(james)
the dreadlocked Ahroun flashes a friendly, if somewhat crooked, grin
freehand stretched out towards the new Garou as totemphone fills in the details"Jamez Brans'n, Jukebox, Drums-'n'-Skullz, Fos'rn Fullmoon a Eagles, BeeGee Eld'rman." there's a distinctive slur mangling what would otherwise be a clearly New York accent, it probably has something to do with why his grin is so lopsided "Nice a meetcha."
Always a pleasure, sir. if it weren't wholly etherial comminucation across the totemphone, the strangely cavalier quip would surely be followed by a tip of imaginary hat - it doesn't matter what happens between the Eagles themselves, the pack's closed ranks in battle is a different animal altogether, and the Gnawer would always run backup
(hyde)
*Hyde gives a nod up to Decker. He's goin', Hyde wasn't just yet. He had a hunkerin for some waffels, but would watch this thing between James and Taxi first.
Yes.. waffels with bacon... and those eggs that look funny.*(taxi)
"Taxi, Cliath, Half moon bone gnawer...and I like oreos." Plain and simple really...(hyde)
*Hyde grunts and nods. Oreos were good.
He looked to James*(tax)
Taxi grinned. Hell getting out of the apartment had been a good idea. She was actually meeting people who might be able to help her out somehow. She took the hand that he had extended.(james)
"Oh yeh?"funny thing, James seems to be
holding down poor Jody one second
friendly smiles, handshakes and conversation the next
all wrapped up in a dreadlocked raggedyman package"I'll keep that'n mine nex' fam'ly picnic 'n make sure some'r there. If yeh know Hyde, th'n you c'n fine me if y'ev'r need." head tips for confirmation, then the guttermutt pulls his frame off the wall - seems it's time for him to depart, as well "I"ll catch yeh both 'roun'."
(rox)
She's giving him attitude now.He wheels on her, the force of his rage bristling just beneath the surface, rattling at her senses. She doesn't move, or look away, taking everything he says, the words, the shouting with a grain of salt.
Yes, it was her fault.
Yes, she fucked up.
Yes, she accepts it.but... she told him to leave it alone, but Decker didn't.. wouldn't let it slide... stepped in on her behalf. Nostrils flare, a muscle twitches with tension in her jaw line. Teeth clamped down tightly on her own tongue until the coppery taste of blood fills her mouth. Only the slightest gesture of a flinch as her eyes narrow with a small wince, as she watches the Modi leave.
A lesson from Imogen... don't say a fucking word...
(hyde)
*A nod to James and Hyde runs a hand over the shaved top of his head and looks to Taxi* Waffels?(tax)
Taxi grinned. "See you around I'm sure." She hoped. "There's a place open that sells waffles?"[exit james stage left]
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJune 20, 2005.06.20.05. - rare [roxy][eagle warehouse - general chicago room]
(roxy)
Eagles relocation program #1,324…Roxy had absolutely no idea what possessed them to find a place on the docks. It’d been explained to her the need to shift territory to better protect the caern. She still couldn’t figure out why a boat house…err.. factory..type building.. Whatever the hell it was! It was her first time actually coming out to get a good look at the place. Perhaps, see what the gutter-mutt and prettyboi couldn’t fix that she might be able to.
The heavy thuds of combat boots scuffle over cracked concrete and gravel, carrying the Platinum blond across the pier towards the dilapidated shack that now serves as Eagle headquarters number two?
Much has changed over the past year, Roxy wasn’t the same woman. Changed both physically and emotionally, this was going to be a test for her, if she finds who she thinks might reside inside. The cool night air touched against warm sun-kissed skin, a strong and lean musculature packed into a tight frame. Clothes tailored to ease the summer heat of Chicago, camo pants with a low waistline that hugs just below the curve of her hips. Long-sleeved fishnet shirt stretched across her chest, the trappings of a bikini top hidden underneath. New tattoo work reveals through sheer materal, a half sleeve over her right bicep, large Celtic design to hid a former lover’s name. And a decorate gothic cross over the left shoulder. She still wore her Glass Walker Glyph on the back of her neck, exposed by the short wisps of blond hair frame the hard lines of her face, no longer ravaged by scars. (…see ya fixed yar face up Roxy…)
Deep blue eyes carouse over the building structure, shifting the weight of a large leather bag clasped firmly between calloused fingers. “Anybody home?” the call of her husky voice drifts out over the building, heading towards the door.
(james)
Eagle HQ version two-point-oh
it looks similar to the first rendition
easy enough to discern exactly who takes up residence
Junkyard Wars worthy furniture amongst everything else do-it-yourself
smattered here and there with reasonable shadows of civilization
lo and behold - there's even an island of domesticityit's current castaway is cross-legged in the center
half-heaped roll of carpet functioning sand dune
lacking in only the slanting palm tree to complete the motif
dreadlocks hang in affectionate disarray across muscular shoulders
flesh turning tan with the trials and tribulations of blue-collar employ
dark eyes intent on whatever manual he's rescued from the library this week
the reach for his beverage of choice wayward and blind"You here a th' Eagle class'a oh-fohr reuni'n?" the words blythely skimming past the Camel dangling off-lip-off-kilter "Name tagz're on th' table to y'r lef'...... punchbowl on y'r righ' still need'a be spike'."
the Ahroun doesn't shift weight to glance across his shoulder
slanted shadows mingling with the darkened lines tumbling down his back
a feathered premonition to the raised ridges of mangled flesh
strange acknowledgement in personification of dulcet soft phrase
collegiate vocabulary twisted by the battlescar crippling his jaw"Long ti'e, Rox."
(rox)
Nothing ever really changes and yet nothing ever stays the same... The HQ was a reflection of some former rendition, complete with its island of domesticity. This touches a smile to Roxy's face, pulling the lush line of pouty lips upward. She lets her gaze wander around, looking for the culprit she came to destroy. Decker's rickety relic of an air conditioning unit. "Came ta replace that piece o'shit air unit that Decker found in the junk yard. Figured ya boys might like somethin' alittle better..."Her voice trails off as she hear the familiar drawl of the gutter-mutt, eyes flick away to refocus on him, her smile growing wider as she watches him. "Long time, James, didn't know ya were that literate." a nod to the manual in his hand, "S'why I'm here ta keep ya boys from muckin' it up."
Lazy steps walked towards him, like the prowling gait of a jungle cat, Roxy paused a foot away from him, "Well, yar a sight for sore eyes.. Cleaned yarself up a bit."
(james)
laughter follows suite in the pattern of billowing smoke
the lazy curl of concentration traded for a chuffed luxation of breath
this finally getting the raggedyman to turn
brow hiking dreadward above those dark-shadowed eyes"Prob'ly th' mos' academic'lly 'ccomplish' one've th' lot." smile dances on the latter half of wryly self-depreciative smirk "F'r whatev'r tha's worth."
bicep flexes putting right wrist to kneecap
iridescent line of dedicated weapon's tattoo reflecting on tanned skin
hard tribalesque designs attempting to melt into the faded black BDUs
the manual hangs limp from the scissor of drummer's calloused fingers
cigarette performing the alternate sway of deft stretch and logroll flick
embrous cherry lifting towards a space catty-cornered to the domestic isle"Ay-cee's ov'r there. Prob'ly take a look't th' new gen'rat'r while y'r at it." manual flips a lazy shrug for attention "Jus' cuz I c'n read it dunn mean I un'erstan' what'm readin'."
.... there..... there's that trademark grin
the easy curvature of features that encompasses all into a smile
from mouth's posture to the playful glitter ghosting deep umber eyes
it's now that he finally finds the drink of previous quest
sweating beer tilted up to curtain that expression before smoke reclaims its place
near empty bottle bouncing in gestured toast"C'n say th' same."
.... to what?
direct object of his affections hidden by sly showman's misdirection
ball's in her court as to what he meant.... as is the invitation to pull another beer from the cooler(rox)
The sound of laughter, how she liked it, not sure how many times she has seen this raggedy-man actually appear mirthful. He would probably denote the way those blue eyes lingered on him, caressing over each new detail wrapped over the old, an imprint to memory.A numbness begins to form in her left shoulder, dangling too long with the heavy leather bag clasped tightly between her fingers. She ignored the discomfort, too caught up in her appraisal of the gutter-mutt. Finally, after the AC's location has been brought to her attention. She remembers her purpose for coming here. The bag becomes forgotten again, tossed down by the edge of the carpet roll. The damnable machine could fix itself for all she cared.
A moment to past time with the 'Gnawer was not one Roxy would miss, she had never really sought the opportunity for his company before. Maybe she should change that. A few strides to the cooler, taunt frame bends over to flip the lid up with hand. Grasping a cold bottle with the other hand, Roxy closes the lid as she stands up. "Mind sharin' a spot with an ol' friend, darlin'." gesturing to the spot of floor next to James, moving to step over him his legs and claims the spot anyway.
"Hopefully, we're still on good terms..." calloused fingers grasp the neck of the bottle, twisting the cap off. The bottle lifted to press against the full line of her lips, tilted up and swallowed a long pull of the amber liquid.
(james)
"Floor'z op'n."the bottle-turned-traffic signal circles a general spot on the floor
it coincides with chin-tilt nod affirming her welcome
dark eyes forming judgement in deadpan gaze worthy of Imogen's repetoire
only after the Walker kin cops a squat would expression form
a careful combination of memory and current thought
all wiped away as his head turns gaze somewhere else
targeting his aim for the can-turned-ashtray
.... might as well not set the hard-won carpet roll on fire so early in the night"Dunn have any bad termz las' we chill'." even if the event was more steamy and tense than your average hang-out, such details falling to irrelevance with rolling shrug of sculpted shoulders "Jus' had a go 'noth'r way."
weight shifts to swivel on tailbone axis
throwing his long-ago wounded back against the huge roll of carpet
elbows taking up casual perch as legs stretch to cross ankles before the Full Moon
for all the influence the heavy moon outside should have on his Rage
it's invisable forcefield crackling a muted infreno
the Fostern Gnawer presents the picture of casual relaxation"Less you got diff'ren' idea off'a it."
there's question in the canid tilt of the Ahroun's head
curious to the repercussions of their last departure of ways
not a high point in either of their resumes, there's little doubt(rox)
She takes up the space next to the 'Gnawer, reclining back to brace the span of shoulder blades against the carpet roll. One elbow brought back to offer support as the other works the hand, holding the beer bottle. Her legs stretch out, much in the same manner as his. Several small pulls taken from the bottle, her eyes cast down to stare at the scuffed edges of steel-toed combat boots."Don't think we really left off on any bad terms," a small intake of air drawn in, filling her lungs with the second-hand smoke from his cigarette and the other in-born scents upon the air. Rusted metal on water, the odor of beer and the dull scent of motor grease stains upon her pants. "Funny, I went south ta take care some shit."
Her head cants to back, face tilted up to bring her up to the sky. She watches it, contemplative, as the dull throb of the Rage begins to swarm her senses. The emotional heat sending a crackling chill across her skin and over her spine. She wasn't afraid of Ahroun's Rage. Too ballsy for that. "I don't think any differently about it, darlin', no regrets either."
(james)
the Ahroun first answers with a low sound
rumbling growl that ebbs tide into rolling laugh
a throttle from deep down in the very center of his chest
amusement rolling contrast to the relentless waves of birthright
knowing her fear isn't in the subdermal animal's latent threat
hoping it isn't in the predator's humanistic treatise"Funny...... I wen' North a do my time."
fingers rustle in the confines of cargo pockets
first offering's his pack of Camel 99's and battered bronze Zippo
once he's got the latter back, his secondary stick of choice infiltrates the factory's scent-laden air
fragrant coils of marajuana smoke rushing to join the staling nicoteine gathering cloud above
joint's passed on negligent stretch of steel-wired arm"Why regreh?" gaze strafes sidelong glance, curiousity a variant fraction of what lingers behind those eyes "Still ha'f c'nfuse' 'bout it, myse'f."
(rox)
Again he is laughing. The Glass Walker is unsure of how to respond to it, an unnatural occurance that doesn't seem to fit in the surly raggedy-man she'd barely known. The rumbling growl that tempers the rolling tide of laughter, mingled with that brush of his Rage, draws awareness to her senses. Dark blond lashes sweep low over her cheeks, sliding deep blue eyes back over to focus on the 'Gnawer."Darlin', I don't think I'm used ta this new light I'm seein' in ya. I like the way ya laugh.. makes ya less ornery than from what I remember," she tips her beer towards him, finishing it off.
The beer bottle finds a place on the pavement next to her, the offerings of a smoke and lighter snatched up with her free hand. She sets the Camel between her lips, flicking the battered bronze Zippo open with quick snap of her fingers, fire meets tip until tobacco burns. Calloused fingers clip the Zippo shut, handing it back to him. Slight contact made in the passing of her fingers over his hand, in its return to ownership.
She takes a deep pull from the cigarette, lungs filled with sweet nicotine and then slowly, expells the smoke from her nostrils. She takes it in hand, brushing a few strands of hair from her forehead. "Why confused about it? It happened. I wanted it ta happen." She studies him, trying to decipher what the oddity was about Ahrouns and her attraction for them was. Hoping maybe this one could answer that question for her.
(james)
the crooked curve across his lips is downright..... playful
previously rare and unnatural occurrance admist the surly raggedyman she barely knows
yet the expression seems so fucking natural it's bordering unholy
Ahrouns are creatures of violence and war, born and built to stand on Gaia's frontlines
not the good-natured grins and downright mellow aura commanding the night"Guess cuz I nev'r saw't comin'....."
phrase built on the built-up lungful of weedly smoke
foggy cloud whooshing towards the empty room and ceiling beyond
dark gaze contemplates it's tea-leave divination for a moment
then lazily swings back towards the newly fixed up Peroxide Fox
offering a half-smile that's now edging on..... shyly boyish recollection?"S'how I used a be." glittering gaze peers up from behind the curtain of shoulder-length dreads "'fore th' hear'break'n Harano ma'e me so fuck'n' o'n'ry."
(rox)
A heartbeat. stops...
The slender arch of blond eyebrows tilt up at the playful curve of his lips. She was getting a fine treat of his humor tonight. Perhaps, she'll attribute it to Mary Jane for the 'Gnawer's playful air.Roxy clears her throat, taking another pull off her cigarette as the smoke mingles with the cloudy plume of weed. She breathes it all in, acknowledgement of a second-hand contact buzz resulting from the action. The Peroxide Fox shifts her weight forward, elbow knocked back to push her weight up. She scoots an inch closer to James, leaning over to stretch out a hand.
Her fingers brush aside the curtain of shoulder-length dreads, "I like it. This.. ol'James. Nice." She can read the shyly boyish recollection in his face, bringing forth a cheshire's grin upon her own lips. "I like ta be spontaneous I guess. Keeps the excitement fresh and new," she tilts her head to the side, meeting those umber eyes of his with her own blue orbs. "So ya finally over them hangups, James?"
(james)
again, that strange, strange, wholly natural laugh
rumble of amusement both sounding his throat and sparkling his eyes
this must be the easy-going PR department of mighty Eagle pack
or..... James got his hands on some seriously potent weed
it seems only time will show curious Roxy the answers to her questions"Cer'n'ly surprise me."
the grin's forever lopsided behind that curtain of brushed-aside dreads
flickering a breif faltering admission in a moment of levity
the exposure of raw emotion riding away on the heels cavalier tease
slanting glance and swiftly-chasing shrug making ropey curtain fall yet again
excuse drawn in the stretch of torso for his near-forgotten near-finished beer"Dunna..... guess't depen's a which hang ups y'r concern' 'bout."
post-swallow position leaves little of his eyes obscured
dreadlocks falling to their proper arrangement most out of his face
dark eyes revealing there's nothing hidden in their reflection
if..... anything can be translated from their depths to begin with
at the very least - he isn't shying from her conversation(rox)
Roxy wasn't sure she'd get used to this or not, for now attributing the lightness of the Ahroun's humor to Mary Jane's kiss. She looks down at her own cigarette, flicking away ashes before she stabs the half-smoke into her empty beer bottle. "Fuck it. I ain't goin' ta work tamorrow. I can crash here or in the truck."She reaches over to steal away the joint from James, pressing it to her lips and inhales rather deeply on the first puff. Her eyes close for a moment, squeezing tight, before the smoke quickly expells from her lungs. A slight cough in aftereffect, she takes another smaller hit before handing it back to him.
"Ya make me miss mah own dreads, James," she laughs, nudgeing his shoulder with her own tattooed one. "I shouldn't have cut mah hair..." fingers steal up to brush back the short locks, making a slight face as Roxy lays back against the carpet roll. "Yar hangups over women. Still swearin'em off or ya on the market again?"
(james)
the kinswoman reaches to steal joint right from the predator's lips
James doing his part in the show by allowing that lip to curl
half-sneer forshadowing a deep-chested growl of territoriality that should come
but as her eyes close mid-hit.... he allows the mocked expression to melt away
smirking as she chokes the toke and he reclaims his J"Seem' time f'r a summ'r cut." the quickly approaching roach notches somewhere between teeth and crooked grin, fingers floating up to play through notably shortened "bangs," lengths flip-flopping freely due to their lack of collective weight, the haphazard movement seeming to fit in place above thoughtfully absent grin "Guess I let go've a few thingzzz holdin' me down 'long th' way."
her nudge did little to even move his shoulder in the slightest
tattoos reaching for ashen scars as summer-tanned flesh meets
buff-cut musculature of a feminine wrench-turner meeting the chiseled granite of a War Machine
self-conscious shrug emits delayed reaction that shifts his weight against the carpet roll"I'sss lef' me sumwhere in'tween tha', I think." half-breath pause unmasks the naked honesty in his reply "I know the greif'z stop. But dunna 'bout bein' ready f'r 'nother mate, ye'h."
(rox)
The deep-chested growl registers a response from Roxy, in that way it seems to set Tristan off as well. The soft rumble almost resonates in the core of her body, causing the Glass Walker to squirm slightly. She lowers her lashes, heavy-lidded now, over blue eyes. The mellow effects of the joint spreading to relax Roxy's from the stress of the day.It also loosened other parts of her nature that were usually held within check, a soft roll of laughter erupts from the whisky-husk drawl of her voice. A sensual undertone to the vocal arrangement. She tucks one arm behind her head, watching him at an angle. "S'good ya finally able ta let go, James, I understand how ya feel about not ready ta buckle down again with a mate." reaches out to playful push him with her hand, "Doesn't mean ya halfta be a monk though, little fun never killed anyone.."
As in afterthought, she breathes out a soft sigh, "Better be careful with the way ya growl at me, boy. I won't hold mahself responsible if anything happens as a result of it. Might have ta throw ya down and finish what I started in the Nova."
(james)
if the Gnawer Elderman intended any specific reaction to his growl
any reaction to her own response doesn't make its way to his features
joint-effect-relaxation already racking up across his senses
predator's heightened scanning picking up each notation as it comesbreathy sigh
muscles uncoil
carefree laughter
whiskeyed drawl
sensual undertonesher playful push meets the same result as earlier nudge
little to no weightshift before the jovial assault
bicep simply flexes bringing the fingertipped roach between his teeth
final hit sucked down before the leftovers get flicked to the Roach Gods
only after held-in hit exhales does the Ahroun construct an answer"Nuh. Dunn think it ev'r did." the way his smile glimmers above yet another shrug of scarred shoulders speaks of three things related to the words riding his next breath: a) he wasn't ignoring her for what he merely wanted to hear, b) he didn't expect to share any justification though honestly couldn't see why not as conversation fits, and c) he probably may not be speaking so much out of preference as perhaps experience..... and, even beyond that, there is a fourth element hanging between half-cocked smile and half-hidden gaze..... the idea in and of itself is something he probably never considered in terms of himself. "Ain' nev'r been a one-nigh'-stan' sorta guy."
sniping quip to her (promising?) tease never comes
while the edges of his smile retain the easy-humor of their jest
the sudden reunion turned honest truths seems to take precedence(rox)
"Hmm..." the soft hum rumbles from her throat, pulling the lush full line of her mouth into a lazy smile. Her head, angled to the side, to get a better look at the 'Gnawer. The flirtations seem to die simmer for now in Roxy, a quiet contemplative expression writ upon the sun-kissed features of her face."I can understand why ya wouldn't, shugah," the topic makes her reflect on her own experiences. Remembering snippets of conversations with Decker about her being unable to get a date. She hadn't been with anyone since the break up of her own tumultuous love affairs with two of her own tribe mates. The pack alpha and his omega. "Never liked one night stands mahself I tend ta get attached ta people.. sometimes too quickly for mah own good."
With a grunt, Roxy tries to pull herself up, her hands drop down to the ground, pushing as her torso curls forward. She leans to the side, using James as a brace. He's been the unmoveable mountain tonight, every time she's nudged at him. This time should be no different. Pivoting towards him, Roxy drops her chin to the sculpted curve of his scarred shoulder. Narrowing blue eyes as she stares off at the line of dark water.
Moments of silence begin to lapse between them, no words flicker to the fore front of her mind. She couldn't think of anything else to say.
(james)
before there was absently warm laughter, even play-fierce growls
though now? James entertains his own moments of silent consideration
half-distracted as the blond, ballsy kin rearranges herself quite comfortable
the as-of-yet granite-hard muscle tightens yet further
a split-second's surprise jolting the Ahroun out of his thoughtsa breath slowly heaves the planes across bare chest
flesh warm as it is strong, further heated by the birthright inferno beneath
dreads spidering across shoulders when his head gently tips away
dark eyes peering over the hard lines of rugged cheek at the head resting on his frame
somewhat startled at the sudden proximity and affection
somewhat relieved at the companionship without expectation or (... current) agendawere he to shift his skull the other direction, he'd so easily rest jawline against the roots of blonde
no stretch to gaze across the very same dark waters and lose himself within a couple's wordless moment
(..... how positively romantic of you, Jamey-boy, so you haven't forgotten how...)"My pro'lem's jus' opp'site." instead of jaw, gently chuffed laughter spreads out warm breath against her hair, words little more than humid murmur "Too hard a get 'ttach'd 'nuff f'r romance wh'n yeh can' promise'm t'morrah. Ev'ry time I did.... en'ed horr'bly."
time passes with the tick of lapping waves
counter-cadent beat to the drumming rhythm of his heart and breath
she couldn't think of anything else to say
he didn't know what could follow his latest truth"S'on y'r mine?"
(rox)
James was probably going to be jolted in surprise again, by another display of affection from the Peroxide Fox. She felt the slight recoil of muscles under her chin, wondered if he would pull away, surprised when he doesn't, a little bit grateful that he doesn't. She draws in a soft inhalation of air, causing the soft swells of her chest to lift and brush briefly against his back. Fishnet against skin as she leans closer, trying to fit against the curve of his body.With the sudden proximity of Roxy so close, his dark gaze caught the curve of her cheek, the faint, yellow discoloration of an old bruise that halos a small, pink cut, scabbed over and scarring. A recent mark to the plethora of scars and wounds that her body has sustained in the past.
She listens to him, more aware of her surroundings than she appears to be. Her tongue darts out to wet across her lips, before answering the 'Gnawer, her breathe a warm breeze tickling his shoulder, "Just memories, shugah," flicking her eyes away from the line of water to peer at him in her side vision.
He can feel the slight tickle of calloused fingertips press gently into his forearm, snaking up over muscles, past elbow and to the curve of his bicep. Another more intimate gesture that seems out of place with the hard-edge Kin.
(james)
given their last encounter, by all rights and purposes he should have pulled away
even their conversation thus far should have the leaning pseudo-embrace setting off alarms
any amount of self-preservation should have James denying its continuation
yet the lanky guttermutt accepts each passing second, inhale, squirm to fit
the aire of earned trust and second chances coming from the most unlikely of places
Eagle Pack as a whole known for the brutal finality of their actions[Eagle promised he would teach James compassion]
"Yeh?"
confirmation enacting more of a half-sigh than actual syntax
skull shifted to focus on the healing wound in habit rather than concern
huffed breath shifting blond just enough to reveal the once damanged skin beneath
more than aware of the Peroxide Fox's ability to hold her own, it isn't a mothering gesture
one Warrior's ascertation of another's, study of wounds for treatment or glory
breif concern shown long enough to note without pry
explanation is a choice quite Roxy's ownso instead, his gaze follows gravity's call towards his left forarm
watching the slight tickle of fingertips against gradually tanning flesh
skimming touch climbing to elbow and bicep on bridges of steely tendon
his fist draws open and closed by absent flex across digits and palm
discreetly trailing her journey by subdermal cast of sinew and fiber
an eyebrow cants curious arch, though words are not quick to follow(rox)
Given the tone of earlier conversation, the flirtations tossed from the blond now pressed into James, by all means, he has every right to pull away. She half-expects him to, anticipates some subtle rejection at her actions. However, the intimate caress of her hand, the press of her body to his, the touch of her chin to his shoulder; wasn't done out of seduction, nor to gain some arousal out of him.This was a more subtler side to the Glass Walker, one not seen so often, beneath the rough and wild exterior she portrayed herself. She couldn't explain why she did this, it just felt natural to Roxanne to cozy up to the easy-going 'Gnawer. Sometimes a person just needed the touch of another human being to feel comfort, to remember what it was like to be human. Roxy had her moments of weakness, this was one of them. Even she was still female beneath that ballsy outer skin.
Another indrawn breathe, lips part to speak, rushing warm breath across his bare skin once more. She moves her eyes back to the dark horizon of water, narrowing them to blue slits. Her fingers descend down his arm, following the same path they created, only to repeat it over and over. "Several months ago, when I'd gone in for the surgery ta fix mah face. Doctors looked me with a complete physical. Found some things wrong with me that I haven't been able ta cope with, even ta this day..." a quick snap of her eyes back to him, "We talk about how we's not really lookin' for mates so soon. I'm goin' ta have a harder time o'it this round, James, if I ever do perk another Garou's interests."
(james)
the lengthening night witnesses a subtler side to both Gaia's children
an Ahroun's calm familiarity beneath Luna's swollen face
a kinswoman's intimate connection beyond her hard-edged mask
each allows some leverage to the other's hesitant gesture
accepting the gentle tug-of-war battling to find balance before the river's voidal shoreJames waits for Roxy to speak, silently
easy encouragement spoken by play of muscle and bone
another game of cat and mouse held between finger and flex
idle distraction from what the animal's instinct feels gatheringcourage built with each repetition of fingers climbing his arm
the quick snap of clear blue eyes meets with earthen gaze
the Walker's rare moment of weakness bright in furtive glance
the Gnawer's rare exhibition of human soul in animal's steady regard"Yeh?"
a single word paraphrasing educated guess
it's clear James could probably guess the matter with ease
or immediately fall into the Nation's expected role of Garou over kin
harping on the responsibilities each bears to the days that follow tomorrowanother rarity..... a ranking Ahroun maintaining his silence to allow a battered kinswoman the dignity of telling the story in her own voice
(rox)
It's his silence that allows her to continue, retaining some iota of diginity as this Kin entrusts him with her little secret. He could guess and yet she'll tell him. "Childless," a casual shrug of her shoulders, trying to regard it as if it were nothing, "Must've happened durin' a fight Yuliya and I got inta with a fomori. I was gored by a tentacle. Don't remember if'n yar around for that or not. Cliona patched me up, bore a nasty scar from it in the end."For a kinfolk to lose one's ability of procreation was a major drawback to the survival of a dying species. She could be seen as nothing in the eyes of her tribe, or any politcally-conscious fuck that was litany bound. Roxy could even lose face, not that it mattered to her. She was useful in other ways than, had other marketable skills... It made one wonder why she told James. Perhaps, as a precursor to let him now what he got into, if anything more ever transpired between the Peroxide Fox and the 'Gnawer Elderman.
"It's gettin' late." She seems reluctant to pull away, her hand pauses on his arm, fingers curled around his bicep.
(james)
the rugged lines of his chin drop notably down in confirmation
(...... he already knew....)
role reversal of his pack's trademark, universal, upward nod
dreadlocks drawn forward and down to the cruel perameters of physics
working as if thin, spidery fingers reaching to hold her confession withina secret kept as it had been shared in faith
"Nuh.... think I w'z jus' 'roun' f'r the af'ermath a tha'..... " little more than a sighed phrase strong enough to reach her ears but not beyond, momentary tenderness drawing delayed apology for his relentless lecture now that the matter is long past (....oh, but the consequences, Jamey-boy, those are the things that linger forever.....) "Guess't jus' anoth'r common thread a 'tween us. Kids lifespanz seem a short'n 'roun' me....."
the final words pass his lips as barely a whisper
were Roxy not curled so close she may have missed them completely
angle of their heads affording sheild for the Ahroun's shifting gaze
ghosts of long-forgotten past clawing their way to pain earthen orbs
rising unfettered now that heartache's soothe had weakened his guard
she cannot witness the translation of emotion across his features
but the reflex blistering of Rage beneath his skin is unmistakablea precursor to warn the kinfolk of what accompanies the things she will get into, should anything more ever transpire between the Peroxide Fox and Elderman Gnawer
it disappears just as quickly
lost in the silence required to rearrange his thoughts
head slanting so that the hard-edge Walker sees only lazy, lopsided grin
neither judging nor condemning the woman for her confessionthey all have their demons, they all mantle past sins, they all bear the twisted scars of what sacrifices fall at the feet of Gaia - he knows there are greater things to value beyond savaged remains
"Already said y'r not leavin', din'cha?" humor returns on the music of low-throated chuckle, calloused palm covers hers across his flexed muscle with gentle squeeze that recognizes her reluctance to draw away just yet "Hel' me drag tha' empty mattr'ss by mi'e."
[fade out, and nothing happens you filthy minded bastards!]
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJune 16, 2005.06.16.05. - through the moonbridge [eagle pack][forums]
(hyde)
The shimmer had sent out the watch spirit to gather the GateKeeper. And the GateKeeper had returned to the moonbridge. The guardian pack summoned and the rite enacted. The shimmering oval of light lit the docks and the bridge established with the clash of thunder.The glowing oval shimmers before them and step by step a lone form descends the arc. Stepping though the oval he’s back lit for a moment. About 6’6” And nearly as broad, A large military style duffel bag over one broad shoulder. A wide chest tapering into more slender hips and then thick muscled legs. The guy was dressed ruggedly in steel toed combat boots, old BDU pants in a dark color, a thick leather belt with one of those rectangular buckles with two tongues. A long sleeved shirt that may be made of thin buckskin over a brown vneck tee. Leather bracers over thick for arms and a shaved head. His eyes were Nordic ice and his scowl seemed to darken as he took in the surroundings.
A chin up nod to the Gatekeeper and the guardian pack that had shown up to make sure he wasn’t an invading force.
He wasn’t
He’d been here when the battle for the caern had happened. He’d fought on the hill it self. It took a while for people to forget the roar of “BADGER BADGER BADGER!!” And the earth elemental that had responded to the call. They remembered the Hulk action figure that had a spirit of rage bound to it and thrown into the swarm of banes. How it’d grown to full size and fought till shattered. They remembered the Get of Fenris fighting with the Eagles as the forces of the dark splashed against them like waves over and over. Crashing against the stony shore of the pack. They remembered his hands. Two thick fingers and a thumb. Taloned in his crinos form raking and drawing blood just like the ‘normal’ werewolves.
In the end when the bloody and torn survivors had sacrificed their own life’s blood and gnosis to the caern he was one of the lucky ones. The ones still living after the battle.
It took a while for people to forget Hyde, Three Fingered.
As he stepped off the bridge the oval shimmered and slammed shut. The light faded around the docks and the Godi strode though the assembled Garou… the totem link shimmering back and his mental query grating to those still living of Eagle.
”I’m back. Who’s not dead, yet?”
(decker)
Me.That would be the Modi. A fleeting glimpse of images as he passes on info on the Eagles' new haunts. A parting word --
Nice seein' ya back.
(james)
even though the TotemPhone's etheal line - Eagles can feel brows most certainly.... lift..... towards dreads
seems like this spring is a veritable homecoming parade for the pack's wayward souls
two Gets and a Gnawer finally returning to proverbial fold
warpack roster once again at its comfortable 4:1 Fenris:Gnawer ratio
that's a better score than recent batting average, for sure.....Ho. Lee. Shit. Seems the bluntling can be escaped....
the sheer obscurity of that comment should be enough to identify the raggedy Gnawer's voice as alive and kicking
James having his own oddball theory on just why the pack's Spirit Talkers keep disappearing
if Hyde doesn't quite get it - not that... many other Garou actually would - there's no explanation following initial museWelcome home.
[in progres]
Posted by james at 12:00 AMJune 15, 2005.06.15.05. - lick it clean [tristan][new pack warehouse - general chicago room]
(tristan)
They were charged with finding the new packhouse to cover the other side of the territory, and they did. Once it was checked out, and Jukebox made the necessarily arrangements, Tristan’s been working to make it more… homey. Granted, it’s as bad as the first factory was, and needs a bit of work. Decker’s redone many of the broken shingles on the roof, and Tristan has added his touches here and there. Clean clothing, made up sleeping pallets, and of course, food and beer.He does this while Decker is elsewhere, of course, since he’s still avoiding the Modi when he can. No use getting into his face so soon after smarting off at him – but that doesn’t mean he won’t do his duty. Always one for doing 110%, our pretty boi. The best damn kinswomen the Eagles ever had… just ask Imogen, she’ll admit it.
And so, we find him here, again, taking a break from the cleaning up of the litter and garbage that had covered most of the joint when they moved in. Dressed in just his jeans, and boots, he’s sitting on a crate, his baby, his beloved violin, tucked under his chin against bare shoulder, a soft mournful lullabye pouring from his fingertips, sliding from the strings as the bow is drawn expertly across them. His eyes are closed, his lips curved into that almost little smile that proves music is soothing the [not so] savage beast once again.
(james)
it's just as bad as the first factory
the Ahroun? may well consider it worse
but the variable existing accoutrements add up sufficient
and they can improvise the restGnawers, after all.
so somewhere between dragging the last planks in for makeshift cots
hauling in the third-hand trunk-freezer from a dive over on third
gathering semi-coordinating strings of semi-reparable Christmas lights
hosing any hint of .... funk ..... from a GoodWill couch
dragging the trash into truckbed and towards nearby dumpster
pausing long enough to wolf (........ ha!) down half a MeatLover's pizza
and washing it down with three beers and a half-joint
James disappeared
leaving the prettyboi kin on his own in the vast, still-empty industrial shellfilling the soul-less warehouse with mourning strains of life
fine, mystical notes darting to the furthest dark corners
redefining their void by explanation something had been there
a particle soundwave just loud enough to be of note
something to brush away the desertionat least until James re-appears
one of those super-dollys from Home Depot in tow
loaded with a randomized toolbox and one misfit generator
it needs work, allright, and the Ahroun is not your average mechanic
would've been easier to go repo their existing deisel-run beastwhen severing from the old haven, he'll break all ties completely
there's a smear of grease across his cheekbone
following the lines of skull right into the shortened mop of dreads
makes the animal look downright domestic.... considering
(tristan)
Considering…The dolly has a squeaky wheel, but even if it hadn’t, he’d have known his brother had returned to the room. The tingle of [anticipation, longing] rage moves before him, ever growing as the moon swells, yet not so much as to suffocate. Yet. He doesn’t open his eyes, however, nor does he stop playing. Not yet. For even now, this is his one constant. The music is the only lover that has not left, that is always ready, that begs for the touch of his fingertips when everything that he loves shuns the thought.
He and his music are one – inseparable, entwined, beautiful.
However, there is work to be done. There is always work to be done, and he lets the notes slide away to oblivion, finding deaths solace in the far corners of the room as he pulls beloved instrument down, and glances over at James and his burden. A sideways smirk and shake of his head that sends tangled curls into disarray, tickling under his jaw, along his chin. “Where’d ya find that one?” Curiosity. Unfortunately, the kin still knows next to nothing about machinery and thus won’t be much help setting the generator to rights again.
(He’s a musician, Jim, not a mechanic!)
(james)
Tristan doesn't open his eyes, nor does he stop playing
far be it from James to (overly) interruptas the dolly's wheels squick their last squeak
the lanky guttermutt's weight shifts to rest against a steel panel
balancing a Camel 100 between his lips to bear the brunt of Zippo's attention
lazy rings of smoke coiling towards the ceiling in time with the swelling notes
riding the tide of imaginary clouds rising to curtain equally swelling moon“Wou’yeh belei’e uh Pennysayers?”
cigarette still perched on lower lip does little to clarify his reply
not that..... it was expressed in anything beyond sidelong murmur, anyway
deep umber eyes settled on page 12 of the tattered owner’s manual
dutiful squint taking him all the way through page 15’s diagnostic diagram
before thumb flips back a couplafew pages to start the chapter over once againremembering quite well what he did to get the last generator running
(tristan)
He chuckles, and shrugs. “With you, I’d believe nigh anything.” He bends down to the open case at his feet, tucking the violin back inside with a loving brush of fingertips across the gleaming wood. No matter what he loses, what he gains, what can go to shit – his violin is always in pristine, babied, perfect condition. You can muss the boy, you can dirty the boy, you can even break the boy – but touch that precious violin, and you’ve declared war.He’s already declared a special out of the way shelf his for the violin here, and that’s where it goes once tucked in for the night. Up high enough to be out of raging Modi’s line of sight and thus easily forgotten.
Once put away, the lanky gnawer crosses the floor to study the generator, reaching up to snag camel from it’s precarious perch on lower lip, taking a long drag and replacing it as he exhales. He scratches his jaw, and shakes his head. “Times like this I miss Roxanne.” Murmured, slightly. She’d have had it up and running in no time. But then he shrugs and claps his hands together. “Alright! Instruct me. Which doodad shall we connect to what thingamabob?”
(james)
prettyboi strolls across cement slab floor and snags Camel from its perch
the Tribal Elderman’s lips curl back in what could be a nasty snarl with the Full so close
rumbling some sound of discontent around the middle of his sternum or thereabouts
clawing blindly in a vage direction to reclaim the stick that shall ne’er bring cancer
his show of prowess decidedly cut short as the cig’s replaced anyway“Yeh?”
head tips to send shortened dreads splaying towards gravity’s relentless call
glance finally finding it’s way from the manual to catch his brother’s perplexed shrug
any thoughts to Roxanne’s presence or lack-thereof spoken only in smoke signal on exhale
finer details of such thoughts jailed safely behind the liquid orbs of dark eyes
and the flashing snap that brings a piece of paper inbetween their line of sight“Guy ga’e me ‘nsssstruc’shuns. Said o’ly one’r two things need tink’rin’ ‘fore it run.” broad shoulders roll in flexing shrug, casting aside the tension slowly growing with Luna’s belly high above “Wha’ssit say a do firs’?”
(tristan)
“Call a mechanic?” Quips the pretty boy, who’s making a rather good show of not being [hot and] bothered by that little show of growly prowess. He takes the instructions, makes a show of putting them upside down and studying them, then righting them with a bit of a chuckle. He crouches, then, and queries “He say which one’r’two things?” in a mutter as he smooths out the paper, and reads.Umhm. Umhm. Gotcha. Yeah. Ok then.
Absent mutters under his breath as he [perhaps deliberately] refocuses his energies to the task at hand. Sliding to a crouch by the generator, dark eyes swing between the instructions, and the machine, and the instructions and he reaches forward, and promptly smacks a knuckle on some poking out bit that he didn’t notice. Muttering, he lifts his hand to his mouth, and points with the other. “Says to deal with that bit first, clean up and make sure the connections are tight..” or something. It’s really hard to understand what he said exactly what with his knuckle in his mouth and all.
Course, it’s likely it’s all bullshit anyway. The boy can be hopelessly inept.
(james)
James’ left hand flips to signal drumroll
obviously - the step past calling a mechanic
the one that’s for ridiculously brave novices who know not what they are doing
yeh.... the one about that bit and the thingamajigger needing cleaning and so forth
thumb and index finger circling an “OK, Bozz!” once it’s prattled offwhich may just likely be a line of bullshit that means absolutely nothing to the task at hand
but it sounds reasonable enough to the Ahroun
scowling a rather motherly chide at the now-injured pretty boy
crouch serving to push Tristan aside with steely-toned shoulder
and..... making sure to clean up that bit with... uh......seems he forgot rags...
so the lower hem of his grey t-shirt will have to do
it’s used in leiu of a wrench to tighten the bit back onto the thing securely
dark glance peering out from under his brows
grease smeared over the lower half of his face as back-of-hand-itch turns to flicking the ashes off his smoke“That’ih?”
(tristan)
He can’t help the chuckle at that motherly look, and the nudge of steely shoulder that could, and nearly does, knock him over. Would have, too, if not for the subtle shift of weight that had him bracing for it, to push back just enough.Not so easily swayed, this pretty boy. Not even by a…grease smudged Ahroun. Honest.
He moves aside though, and watches, eyes flickering from the instructions and drawings and the work in progress, before nodding, and then pointing again. “There, there and there.” And he reaches under and tightens something himself, and jiggles something else, and checks to (ahHA!) make sure they’re fuel there too. A fingerful of grease, however, reaches out and smudges across his brother’s bicep with a little playful smirk. “whoops.”
“Ok, so, that… might do it..” He promptly forgets about the grease left on his finger, and scratches his chin.
(james)
a journey so slow to closure it feels as it spanned years
a city so long forsaken it feels as foreign soil
a pack so strewn to chaos it feels as familiarity is strung thing
perhaps his nudge was not meant to move Tristan quite so far away
a revelation found within the easy proximity of familial bondone that will never judge nor test nor punish
simply... accept....just as James bears the burden of his newest Rite of Wounding without protest
brow cocked towards springy dreads as he surveys the “damage” across muscular ridge
then as gaze lifts.... his head tilts... and hand gestures Tristan closer“Jus’ mark’ y’self.” freehand closes the distance by force, broad palm wrapping over trapezius and flat out hauls the prettyboi within reach “Y’r losin’ yeh touch, Ma.”
the Ahroun does a right pitiful job of cleaning smudged grease away
adding insult to injury as his grasping hand is sure to leave a filthy “pawprint” over shoulder
in fact - he doesn’t run calloused finger across any skin remotely near the kinsman’s smudged chin
delightedly drawing a oily black happy face across Tristan’s flesh, instead
complete with clown eyebrows above the growing scowl
heel of his palm hitting cheekbone apple drawing a smile as easily as midnight blush
luckily... he ran out of grime before getting to the application of lipstick which would have been a tragedy for sureescaping in a roll-bounce-bolt dance number that has him fleeing across factory floor
(tristan)
One that accepts, without question, always, even though he aches, even though he has questions, even though he may need the answers every bit as much as he fears them. He just. Doesn’t. push. [but oh, how he aches] his grin lingers, teasing unrepentant across his lips as the “damage” is surveyed.Even then, he moves closer, when beckoned. Perhaps he should have know better- perhaps he does, but none the less, he succumbs to that grasp, even as he’s hauled closer with a “Gah!” Such a pitiful cleaning! And if he said he wasn’t laughing, or enjoying the touch, he’d likely be lying, even as he starts to struggle, with sputtered protests…
And yes, good thing indeed….
“Oh. You will SO pay for that…” He pauses by the cooler, grabs the nearest can, and gives chase, shaking said can as he runs, long legs covering the floor easily…can aimed, and as soon as he’s within reach, the top popped, sending a very shaken up soda foam springing toward his bro…. “I hear there’s an ingredient in here that’ll take care of grease…” the laughing explanation as he skids to a stop and heads the other way.
Paybacks are usually hell…
(james)
paybacks are usually hellthe tidal rush of foam does its threatened damage to douse the fullblood Gnawer
not before he managed to get his hands on the hose drug in from the back-lot spigot
still primed from the hose-down hoe-down with the GoodWill prize couch
all it takes is a firm grip on the nozzle to send a defensive torrent back towards attacking kinsman“S’call’ wat’r!” cackled above the sound of rushing water that pools to hinder Tristan’s hasty retreat “’n how dare yeh was’e goo’ beer!”
(tristan)
He…. shrieks like a little girl at that first hit of cold water… “BEER? How DARE you even…in..in…insinuate!” and he is slipping on the water, and trying to get away, even as he flings the can back at him……one of Kemp’s soda’s.
Whoops.He’s still laughing though, as he finally gives up, and just stalks his bro, taking the full force of the cold cold water, and opening his arms wide.. “Aw, it’s good to have you home… comere…” At which time he rushes that last bit and wraps up James in a tight… cold, wet, greasy hug…
(james)
the empty can’s batted out of the air
shiny aluminum finally getting the Ahroun’s attention long enough to identify
..... ooooh, soda. Right-o.
it allows for the jettisonned stream of water to lag, just a bit
enough so that Tristan’s fight to plow forward is minimal
crooked grin appearing somewhere above the scatter-spray sheild of mistand finally, the Fostern relents
nozzle aimed to the side as his own arms spread wide for heartfelt hug
long arms wrapping around the kinsman like bands of hardening steel
even going so far as to add the manly thump of fist on scapula“S’good uh be’ome.” murmured in genuine sigh spreading a kind of relief through his battle-hardened frame, it’s enough to field deception as fingers drop to waistband and shove. the still. running. hose. down. the prettyboi’s. jeans. “Know wha’, Tris?” the Elderman pulls back just a tad to gaze up at his rightfully shocked brother, wearing a wholly unrepetant - if crooked - grin, for his right hand still holds both the hose and the violinist’s belt twined in strong fingers so that boi isn’t going anywhere fast though the embrace surely soaks both greasy Gnawers “Think I sor’a miss yuh.”
the phrase practically serene
if it..... weren’t for the playful gleam in deep umber
or the firm pat on Tristan’s ass splooshing his back pockets
or the near-freezing waterfall hosing down the inside of his jeans(tristan)
The genuine sigh brings another smile, as fingers slide into dreads, and then..Oh and THEN…
Well, that’s one way to send the boys up into hiding, seeking warmer climates as he’s DRENCHED with the positioning of the hose, the cold ass water [haha! Pun so intended] SOAKING him and his brother, as fingers tighten in dreads, and a shiver wracks through the poor pretty boi as he gasps “So….not….fair…” as any attempts to squirm away are thwarted, succeeding only in bringing him closer to James…
Finally getting a hand on the hose…
Ahem. Water hose. And crimping it enough to slow the flow to a mere trickle as he shivers…. “an jus’ how yeh plan on warmin me back up, brother-mine..” There is no mistaking that tease [challenge?] in deep dark eyes, is there… Ye got’im, now whatcha gonna do wit’im…
(james)
the Ahroun’s lip curls in a smug smirk
neither pulling against nor leaning into the firm grip on shortened dreads
his chest granite against the slighter male’s wracking shiver
(.... heartbeat thumping kettle drum.....)
deep earthen eyes glittering in light of teasing challenge“Yew go’ me sticky firs’.” smirk. chuff. sneer. “Shou’ be assssskin’ how yew’re gunna make ih uppa me.”
(tristan)
heart beats under granite chest, thumping kettle drum that he’d likely notice, if it weren’t for his own… and the fact he’s shivering, the grip in dreads and the press of his taller, yet leaner form close as if actively seeking warmth offered by the rage burning under his brothers skin… [...as if? Who is he trying to kid…]he laughs, fingers grasping that waterhose tight, keeping the waterflow to an absolute minimum while the nozzle remains in James’ possession. And with a slightly wicked grin of his own, and cocks a brow… “Good point…. So… how am I make ih uppa you…” playful, that mimic of slurred speech…. Wickedly playful…
(james)
wickedly playful, that mimic of slurred speech
it’s met by the presence of sharp canines further gnarling syntax
a moon-driven shift begun then immediately pulled back in line
Rage rippling to offer sought warmth in deliberate spite as it’s taken away“Dunna.” it’s crooned across Fostern’s impeded tongue “Cuz I know ya dunn need help warmin’ up.” embracing arm tightens in point, for surely the predator can hear prey’s trepidous pulse, or perhaps simply draw upon the telltale scents leaking from flesh to collaborate the undertow tale... what of it he can simply sense is hidden behind the animal’s coveting mask “Maybe I shou’ test yeh..... seein’ a how you’ve all thessse month’ a conjure sumthin’ uh.”
chin tips up - Eagle style - in reciprocal challenge
(tristan)
ho…lee….hell. Rage ripples, surges and is taken away again, and lashes fall over dark eyes, kissing cheeks before lifting again to meet James’ gaze, pulled tighter against the iron strength of the predatory who’s more then in control of his prey, the swallow slow, and deliberate, as he forces moisture down his throat.He’s never made a move. He’s made himself more then willing, more then available, he’s all but practically begged, he’s done everything to tread close to that line but never cross until invited. He knows that it is obvious, he knows that the others see it as well, and perhaps applaud his restraint. But it has been a long. Long. Long. Time…
And there’s that challenge, the lift of Eagle’s chin, the glint deep in those gaze, and maybe deep in his own eyes there’s something too, pushed back, hidden away, too raw, to uncontrolled to allow more then that all too brief glimpse.
Finally… “Maybe yeh should.” Barely breathed, though it seems that he won’t… some war going on inside, before finally the grin starts again… spreading across his lips, as he presses closer… and in a moment’s decision that he may (not) regret later, fingers tighten in those dreads and pulls James closer, closing negligible distance to lay claim to his lips to deliver the slightest hint on the kind of welcome home he wants to give…
Despite everything, because of everything – he’d still give his absolute all to James, no questions asked, no explanations, no expectations.
(james)
Tristan has held true to his word and never once made a move
there’s been no push, no complaint, nothing more than open invitation
waiting for the day the Ahroun believes himself ready to cross the definitive line
how many others have quietly wondered at the depth of the raggedyman’s blindness?
how hard was it to see that his brother offered the very thing James seeks above all else?no questions
no explanations
no expectations
no requirements
no obligations
no. strings. attached.the prettyboi’s love is unfuckingconditional
and maybe that’s what terrifies the Full Moon more than anything else
something so totally alien a concept surrounding this wholehearted gift
with Jenna - there was consequence
with Rune - there was consequence
with Tristan - there....... is what?
it’s something the guttermutt has not yet been able to realize
perpetually expecting agony to follow the footsteps of ecstacy
(......would there be a darker day beyond the bigot’s disapproval? would even that mean anything in the end, Jamey-boy?)
hiding behind the greif of hoping his mate would someday return
too hesitant to take that risk in fear of betraying what he cares for most.....too frightened to dare define what he holds closer than anything else
every dawn may be an Ahroun’s last - it is the history of his kind
it is the destiny writ for him by great Mother Gaia which James accepted as a cub
now he questions another spirit’s premonitions and the aftershocks it inflicts upon his heart and soul
considering the consequence of giving in to his kinsman’s desires
and what would come after the dawn chosen to be his last
a fate worse than death.... or the cherished wound of recollection.....Eagle promised to teach him compassion
the Full Moon promised to ever-fuel his beast’s primal Ragewhat capacity does the mere man have to decide?
fingers tighten in the tangled mop of ropey dreads
manicuring his time for thought and contemplation to nearly nothing
(.... your broken heart has had enough time to think, Jamey-boy, drowning in the oceans of your bitter War, now it is time to breath once again..... remember what it is like to feel.....)
reminding the guttermutt just why the great raptor spirit accepted him among the high-breddecisive action in the face of conflict
each day spent to die without remorse
and above all, the surity of his faithTristan’s go-for-broke grip in his hair keeps the Ahroun from pulling away
releasing him from the conflict of choice
(.... stop questioning your heart, Jamey-boy....)
unleashing him into the conquest of that tentative kiss
claiming lips met with the brute force of the Garou’s whiplash hunger
...... it’s been. so. long.“Izzat so?” soft words drawn by teeth scraping over the soft flesh of the prettyboi’s mouth, hose relinquished so that fists form an unforgiving presence amidst the disarray of curls, keeping newly sensitized skin so close to the dangerous line of white enamel just behind that sly, crooked smile “Yew wanna tes’ a prove y’r conj’r welcum’s good ‘nuff?”
digits flex deceptively slow
pressure increasing to finally pull the kin’s head back
throat so nakedly exposed to the warmth spilled by Garou’s chuffing amusement
moments drawn apart as only a sadist could pass the time
(.... you know he loves every minute of it....)
words finally returning in the rumbling murmur of softest growl“Th’n lick’t clean.”
embrace vanishes with the ebbing heat of inner Rage
fading bootsteps heralding James’ secondary retreat
leading Tristan away from the pack’s communal den(tristan)
[the morning after]
He is slow to wake, this morning, pleasantly warmed under the tangled sheets and rumpled bedspread flung over hips, with the ever present press of rage against his back, tingling across his spine in a spiky fingered caress. The arm under his head is not his own, nor the one around his waist holding him close, tight against the body behind him.
He is cocooned in the safety of an embrace, a feeling he'd almost forgotten it had been so long. He relishes it as his breathing changes, signaling that he's waking, something that will be noticed soon enough. Lips pull into a soft smile, and lashes flutter once, lift, and after glancing at the clock, fall again. Too early. Fingertips slide over the arm at his waist, until slipping under strong hand, fingers lacing together.
Last night may have been a one-time deal. He has always made good on his promise, and he will do so now. To love, to protect, to never expect more then is being given. It was a step, it was glorious, and perhaps there is a promise for more someday in the future. He is content with the satiated relaxation in his brother's sleeping form behind him, however. His own can wait. It has before, it can again.
Jaw clenches, then releases, stretching into a yawn that pops his [....aching....] jaw, body slides into a slow stretch to match, stifling a groan of stiff muscles (cough) so unused to sharing a bed anymore. Instead of getting up, though, he curls back into the heat of James' embrace, and closes his eyes again.
Content. Happy. Enough so that even the growl of his belly is ignored for a while longer. He'll soak in this feeling as long as he possibly can, before the harsh realities of morning can no longer be held at bay.[and faaaaade, heh]
Posted by james at 12:00 AM