August 25, 2005.08.25.05. - spectral curse [annemarie-fangs-araceli] *ul[forum]
(st)
Imogen filtered her way through the paperwork. She found the corpse and was able to complete her part of the mission by sprinkling the Death Dust on it. Annemarie is waiting on the otherside. The Silver Fangs are there. Gabriel (possibly, Josephina or Vast, don't know), and Jukebox.They see the apparition, a disheveled mess and barely visible to the Garou eyes. She seems nothing more than a dark shadow, her body formless, a reflection of her face flashing in the area of where her head might be. There is an eerie, ethereal impression of chains draping from what might be limbs.
The upper torso of Araceli's ghost becomes clearer after a few minutes and all you see everything above her stomach. The rest of her body is a formless blur. She is grotesque, her soul tarnished with the touch of black magic and sins of the Father.
(am)
AnneMarie is there, and has been waiting. She had text when she was ready, and then settled to stand watch. The Fangs arrive, and receive a short nod up. Jukebox's nod up is slightly warmer, more familiar.She however has a job to do, and steps back to watch their backs as they communicate with the spirit.
at the... tainted, touched, blackened look to the spirit, its a grunted grumble that whispers across eagles wings. I... don't like the looks of her...
Powerful good use of understatement for the Modi, don't you think?
(james)
[I... don't like the looks of her....]
his packmate's words whisper across Eagle's mighty wings
hard as James' stomach is turning - a verbal response is doubtedly needed
surely the Modi gets some impression of what magnitude at which his gut is wrenching
were his reasons not what they were for being here before this wasted wraith
the raggedyman would seriously consider simply..... turning to walk awaysomething does not bode well amongst the sin-stained rattle of ethereal chains
the spirit's disheveled facial reflection doing little to comfort his growing worries
the empty blur of tarnished shadow hanging below Aracelli's waist makes it even worsethe Gnawer also has a job to do, stepping forward with Gabriel as AnneMarie falls back to sentinel guard
the remaining Fangs are left to their own devices, defenses, and decisions as the Adren and Theurge step fowardlet's just get this over with.
(araceli)
The wraithly image... yes we said, wraith-ly! Watches the trio through hallow, black eyes. Two icy pits watching their movements with curiosity as she remains floating there. The grim apparition doesn't seem to acknowledge the chains, which bear the mark of her sins.~Why has me here?~
The voice echoes like a faint whisper at first, then the grating sound of nails over a chalkboard, growing in volume.
(gabriel)
No totemlink between them all is needed to distinguish that the noble features of the theurge are for a moment contorted with the distraction of just such a thought. Only a moment however. For this was strictly business in the most deadly sense of the word and the Silver Fangs were nothing if not dedicated to that cause, at the very least.So Gabriel schools his features into their mask of stoicism, and walks toward the ghastly wraith alongside the Bone Gnawer Elder.
She speaks; Gabriel makes some quiet 'hm' of contemplation, a glance thrown James' way to question:
Who wants to go first?
(james)
deep umber eyes remain on the apparition ahead as Gabriel makes contemplative sound
if James understood his unasked question there's precisely squat for reply
unless you count the slow nudge of jawling towards the sloping lines of muscular chest
or the tension that crawls slow steel along the backside lines of his neck
(.... you recognize that sound, don't you, Jamey-boy.....)"Our d'sire f'r your ans'ers to are ques'ions."
this is likely not one of Rank's so-called privleges
he'd rather not be here much less going first at the Healer's hesitation
speaking slowly and clearly enough to assure the shadow's understanding
but if nobody else is going to take up the slack....."Will yew speak w'th us?"
(aracelli)
Unlike the Gaian spirits the Garou are so used to dealing with, this was a little beyond their understanding. Araceli seems to contemplate this, devoid of any facial emotion in her ghastly visage. She inclines her head a notch.~Ask what will~
(am)
She watches, silently. Her arms folded across her chest, her gaze on the wraithly figure before them.She says nothing, but simply listens, watching her packmate as he questions.
(james)
well, never hurts to try and be polite when hoping for help from a spirit
seemed to work well enough with D'Angelo's sorrowful form
perhaps it'll expedite things with ghoulishly ghastly, here"What were yew doing a cauze th' blood wi'ch t' cum'n kill yew, y'r chile, an' D'Angello?"
(gabe)
It never hurts to try and be polite when requesting spiritual aid. Directness also never hurts, and for the time being, his pack silent and watching at his back, the Silver Fang is content in his silence, his arms threaded across his chest; some expectant, assessing expression had crept across his French-hued features and he waited for the spirit's reply.(araceli)
~Hmm...~Araceli wavers, floating closer, drifting back, swaying in small dance. The chains clinking musically together.
~Transcending beyond the skin~
(james)
.... if that smokey bitch comes close enough to touch him
James is going to turn his own flesh inside out
that's one thing for certainbut the reactionary preparation doesn't show across his features
on the outside, the Ahroun is nothing but serious business
inner workings aside, he firmly stands ground before the ghost's cyclical dance"Es'plain."
(araceli)
The apparition drifts closer, perhaps sensing the way James feels. It is hard to be sure if she could read him so well. She is dangerously close to the 'Gnawer, spreading white lips back into a feral grin. Araceli was once a beautiful girl, but her mummified features take on a Bloody Mary characteristic to them.~Father promises to transcend~
Her voice is like ice.
~To know enlightenment and become one of the Goddess~
(james)
........ just freakin' peachy
maybe James should have known better than to entertain the distasteful thought
with the reputation his luck has for serials of unfortunate events
he might as well have outright asked for this to happen
but through the bitter end - the Gnawer stands his ground[I won't back down... not even from you]
even if it's surely going to fuel his nightmares for weeks
"Who'iz Fath'r?" dark eyes meet the mummified shadows of Araceli's once-beautiful sockets, however the feral grin inspires no expression across the grim line of his lips "Did'ee worship th' Godd'uss w'th yew..... help yew bring'r here?"
(gabe)
"Father.." The Silver Fang echoes her quietly. The wraith edges closer and the expression fights its way from distaste back to some composition of focus. The french burr a sharp contrast to the Bone Gnawers slur. "The Priest. Father is, the Priest you were to meet with at the Park, hm?"He adds this a moment after James' own query.
(araceli)
~All worship the Goddess. To transcend is to become her image. To take on her form. Not all are capable of such~Araceli's attention is drawn to Gabriel now, like a spiritual magnet, she pulls away from Jukebox to drift towards the Frenchman. A ghostly hand lifted up, rattling the chains, as transparent fingers run an icy caress to his cheek.
~Father Throper cares for the flock. Have you come to be one of them?~
(gabe)
Ghostly fingers trace a caress down one cheek. Like the touch of frostbite, and it takes some degree of determination not to flinch away from such a cold unearthly touch. The dark eyes are resolved to remain fastened on Araceli. Though the drop in octave of the frenchman's tone--this has purpose. A baritone caress of his own, to lull it into response."Tell me of the flock, Araceli. Tell me of your Father Throper."
(araceli)
~Father's children. Men and woman. Boys and girls, on the cusp of their adolescence. All are welcome. He is the Holy Shepard that guides us to the Holy Mother. The flock is everywhere~The apparition draws away her hand, drifting her attention towards Jukebox. The expressionless face flickers with a dark shadow of some discernable emotion.
~What seek you? Drummer on the skulls~
(james)
"Th' reas'n why."the ghost practically falls upon Gabriel's interjection
and the Gnawer's silence apparently enough to leverage it back
for however much he's surely going to regret it
(.... if he just ended up rescuing a Fang..... there'll be no end to repaying the favor.....)
steadfast before the wraith's unwelcomed attentions
wary of what undefined emotions lurk behind the mask of gaunted features"Why th' Fath'r been stealin' th' flock frum their dams, why th' Godd'uss comes f'r oth'rs in th' nigh'." a breif pause, for thought "An' what it'll take f'r her t' leave f'rev'r."
(josephine)
Trust Josephina to find amusement in any situation, even confronted with the tainted, tarnished form of the spirit. Its there when her mouth hooks up ever so slightly as the spirit touches her fellow packmate, the urge to make a quip across the totemphone strong. She, perhaps surprisingly, represses it.Her own take on the situation resonating unknowingly with Ruhiger's comment on the Eagle line. It takes the edges off any temptation of wit.
(vast)
Vast stands a little ways off. He's in a sleeveless, formfitting black shirt -- fine-woven, high quality, turtlenecked -- and starkly white pants tonight, an apparition in monochrome. His hands are in his pockets, his head slightly cocked to the side as he watches the proceedings with his pale-eyed, cold-eyed interest.It seems Josephina is not the only one to find amusement in the situation. There's something oddly sexy about a completely fucked-up woman, isn't there?
They're in the umbra. When Vast moves forward, the light of the moon spears down on him. It doesn't matter that they were indoors. The building is thin on spirit; its walls and ceilings and roof, almost completely translucent. You can walk right through them, and he does, coming closer. Overhead, the moon is enormous, looming like the goddess she is.
He cuts in, "What's your Father Throper get for all his trouble? A cut of the immortal souls?" There's a touch of dark humor there.
(jose)
She certainly seems your type, Josephina tosses back at the galliard. Glancing towards theurge, seeing the concentration on his face, she adds, Now make sure you don't distract Gabriel too much, Vast, unless you want your spirit taking advantage of him instead.
(araceli)
~The Shepard only brings those astray into the fold. Lost lambs in need of his affections, Drummer on the Skulls~It is Jukebox's tune to feel the ghostly touch, only its more like Araceli passes right through him. Some form of sick amusement consumed by this spirit. The wraith begins to make her way towards Vast now, pausing briefly, turning her face to speak in Jukebox's left ear.
~The Goddess never dies. Only assumes a new form when one transcends the skin. She is ever-changing, ever-consuming, immortal~
The apparition moves on, dragging ghostly chains behind her, the lower half of her form a blur of shadows as Vast only sees the formation of an upper torso, head and arms.
~Father reaps what he sows~ This spoken to Vast.
(vast)
Have you ever seen Vast fight?It's a far cry from an Ahroun's style. He doesn't plant his feet and bull forward, come hell or high water. Lean and lithe, the Galliard swerves, feints, flows like water. His feet are light and swift. He's literally dodged bullets, swaying back from the blast of a gun. He switches directions mid-attack, uses surprise to his best advantage.
He's the same here, tonight. Only in words, and not in actions.
"He reaps what he sows." His voice is patient, cool, calm as still water. Twisted with some personal amusement. "He sows the seeds that grow into the goddess. And then, what, he reaps? They obey him? Is that it?"
-- and switch --
"Tell me of the transcending. How is it done? How many have done it? How many avatars can the goddess have at once? One? Ten?
"Have you transcended?"
(gabe)
Stealing my woman, Sevastian?Some faint ripple of amusement broadcast as the wraith descends upon the Galliard now, in answering his questions. Gabriel turns on his heel, observing, listening to the responses she gives. The theurge purses his lips, watching his packmate to see if he deigns--
To fire questions at her, one after the other.
An expression of particular unease crosses his face, and his gaze slides to Josephina for a moment, another of their unspoken looks before his attention returns to the spirit.(james)
the bitch. passes. through. him.
that certainly skews any preparation responding to the chance of mere touch
either the Elderman is pushed right past the point of being able to make good his earlier promise
or he's got just THAT much fucking resolve to save thoroughly washing out his skin for a later time and place
fists clench in the shadows by his sides, and though AnneMarie may expect mental tirade for some venting in some way
there's dead silence between the Eagle packmate's mindsit gives the upstart Galliard the chance to work a word - or ten - in edgewise
(.... even Kemp's constant chatter couldn't compare to that braying jackass.....)
and the Gnawer has half a mind to let the ghastly girlie do whatever she may to the youngest Fang
hell, that may even prove to be enjoyable...... -"Ar'celli." name barked to once more catch the apparition's attention before he can think better of it, before she can move too far away from being so close she was whispering sweet nothings in his left ear "Why dunn yeh tell me how'n who c'n tran'scen' th' skin so she c'n take new form. 'n how th' Fath'r fine's his los' lambs led 'stray......"
(jose)
Virago's brow is provoked upwards at the flight of questions coming from her own packmate - rapid succession, but she hardly expected to Vast to interrogate any other way - then from the Gnawer elder as well. For the moment she says nothing, observing how the spirit responds - though the idea that their questions may each in turn to distract the spirit from necessary response does filter across her mind.Be assured the Fang will step in (adren or packmate) when its warranted, should that become the case.
(araceli)
The barrage of questions has in ill-effect on the apparition. It's mummified face turns a complete 180 to cast socketless eyes on very living thing there. She begins to draw backwards, passing through the 'Gnawer once more, drifting to the spirtual magnetism of Gabriel.~Ask the Father, Wolves. He will show the face of the Goddess~
Her words run out in a sharp hiss, the chains begin to move of their own violation as the wraith starts to take on a more malevolent nature. She doesn't flinch to the rapid-fire of questioning.
~My offerings... of a wolf's life... is my offer for transcending. Next to carry the Holy Mother's visage as she is everywhere~
(am)
She watches and starts to move as the wraithly figure moves through Jukebox, but hesitates and watches a moment more. Listens as Vast starts rapid-firing questions, and there's something that hardens in her expression, in her gaze.Perhaps her mental voice comes across as dry, perhaps it is cutting, but most assuredly it is intended for only one set of ears and likely best only he hears them across the totem.
The modi shifts her attention fully on the spirit and her packmate and elder again. There is silence between the packmates, but there is no doubt whatsoever the flicker of irritation that crosses her gaze, and tightens her jaw. She takes a step nearer to Jukebox, flanking her packmate.
(gabe)
"Araceli," She drifts through the Gnawer once again, and Gabriel's brown eyes glitter with a brief modicum of sympathy for the Elder. Something akin to having an iceblock slipped beneath one's skin, only magnified by severe degrees. They tick, slowly travel to the malevolent Spirit."Araceli," He says again, forcing some coaxing play to his words. A silken demand as he shifts his feet slightly. His hands, palms open against his thighs. "We wish to ask the Father, but we do not know how to find him. How did you find him, hm? How can we find him?"
(jose)
And here I thought you had a way with the ladies, Vast, is the dry observation through the Fang's minds, as the spirit so physically withdraws and as Anne-Marie's own gestures of irritation are noted. Josephina, for the most part, ignores them.Instead, Offering of a wolf's life? Rubbed much to closely to what she had earlier thought, and blonde brows lower together in consternation. Whispered withoiut even realising it, and not intended to reach the spirit's ears - though it just might anyway. "Her child was true?"
(james)
once was bad enough
twice nearly gets a reaction
but it's contained to a chilled shiver running up his spine
instead of his spine suddenly taking leave of his being"Whish..... wulf?" his turn to watch Araceli is physically forced, hissing grate of her voice affecting him beyond the assault on sensitive ears - so it's a safe bet he didn't catch any sliver of sympathy that may have shot his way, carefully following up Gabe's query without once more provoking a f'in mini-possession ""Y'rs? 'r anoth'r..... I dunn wanna miss th' nex' a tran'scen'."
(araceli)
They are left to stare at the apparition's back as she turns away from them, still floating in Gabriel's vicinity.~Positive~
As to whose question she addressed, whether Josephina's or Jukebox's is uncertain, they may take it as they will. The wraith starts to drift away, chains rattling at her sides.
It's like a Hydra...
~The Mother's chosen new vessel. Soon to come with the blood of wolves' daughters. The Blue Lady won't...~
The wraith begins to fade before their eyes, turning to watch them. ~Blood in the water the Hydra grows~
(james)
"Who'z her choz'n new vess'l?"(ara)
~End of a family line... Worth...~There is a pause from the spirit, its head turning around in a circle, like an owl's, setting her black gaze on them.
~Already know that answer, wolf~
(james)
ever get that sinking feeling?
what happens when you already had it to begin with.....
AnneMarie's clarification gets no response from James
he knew even before he asked"W'rth's line'z ended already. Why'z she still af'r the Gnaw'r kin."
that sinking feeling's getting worse......
(am)
She knows.
He knows.
She doesn't even bother to say it, just slides her hands over short shorn hair, and closes her eyes. Then, a step closer to Jukebox, her shoulder touching just behind his. Flank, close, touch. Not comfort, because there really isn't any. But understanding. Pack.Steady as she goes, boss.
(araceli)
In a singsong voice they here...~Mary Worth... Mary Stern... Holy Mary, thou art blessed in Heaven~
(james)
there's a presence behind his shoulder, strength in the Modi's solid form
it's the fucking rock the Gnawer needs else he'd slip into unseen shadowy waves
dark eyes slide closed to hide the tumbling storm brewing so deep withinanimal's Rage
man's sorrow
father's......without another word the Ahroun Elderman makes a 180 of his own and walks away
(jose)
The Silver Fang alpha understands only half of what is going on, but its enough for her to know that this is more personal to the Eagles than had been previously let on. Standing behind Jukebox, seeing Ruhiger move towards him, she can read the body language as easily as if Anne Marie had just regained her voice and spoken.The names mean very little to her, flippantly spoken by the spirit, and while the urge to ask for the missing piece to the puzzle is building, she stills it on the tip of her tongue. Waiting for the end of the questions.
(am)
It is a rock he needs. The rock he usually has is even more personally involved. She may not be perfect, but she is pack. And he is the one who looked deeper within her.It is a rock he needs.
It is a rock he gets.Solid.
A nod up to the disappearing spirit. A nod up to the Fangs. Should they wish answer to their questions it is clear that now is not the time. A gesture - a flick of her hand - suggests that she will answer later.
And with that, she falls into step with the Adren Gnawer.
Steadfast.
(gabe)
The Spirit dissipates.
The Eagles begin to leave.Questions answered and yet, for the Silver Fangs, it would seem more have been left unanswered. Gabriel's features mask themselves behind that wall of infuriating neutrality once more and if he is bemused by the actions of the Eagles members, he does not voice it. Merely moves to shadow his Alpha in watching them depart.
A small smile touches his lips.
"I think perhaps it is time to go, Cousin."
(james)
Sometimes easier said than done.the sorrow-filled words finally creep back after long minutes of walking silence
still traversing the Umbral Realm, by now his pace had slowed to match her own
distantly pre-occupied while they worked a ways close to more familiar crossing grounds
hands still rolled to fists at his sides, deadweight against swaying step
dark eyes follow the phantasm wreckage of the real world littering the spirital ground
trusting his packmate to lead them to faithful safetyOne tends to feel a shade unbalanced when a solution cannot be determined as whether or not it is the lesser of two evils.
(vast)
Vast is silent, after his initial rapidfire questions. As the spirit and the Eagles depart, he speaks up again, quietly thoughtful."She mentioned the Blue Lady. Seems to think she won't be any help, but I have my doubts. Do you think it's worth a shot, Josephina, to try to summon the Blue Lady?"
(jose)
Before the Eagles depart, Josephina catches Ruhiger's look. She's not one for letting strangers guess her own expressions, as clouded as they often are and not tapping into whats beneath. So she ofters before they go, "Let us know if the Eagles need us" then turns to her packmate and his question. Perhaps it was unnecessary to offer - but it was laid out, nonetheless."Gabriel?" The question is tossed to the theurge as before she gives her own answer, she'd hear his thoughts. This is hardly her domain.
(am)
And lead him she does. She is known for stepping in. For covering bases. For doing as she is told, as is expected of her. She is Omega, but she is modi. She is Eagle.As is he.
I understand. Perhaps more then some would think really. A shift of her weight leads them around some obstacle or another, the return of the same puts them back on path. It is automatic, and fluid, and thus likely unnoticed. I will do all I can. That the comment includes doing the worst imaginable so that the Gnawers do not have to, does not need to be said. Either of the two evils, she would remove that responsibility from the two of them.
He saw her when she was still invisible. Such things will always be remembered.
(gabe)
"Hm." The theurge is looking after the receding figures trekking away across the Umbral landscape, his expression clouded with its own interior motivation. He turns, a movement quick enough to unsettle the overgrown hair, it drips into his vision, partially obscuring the young man's eyes. Dark, veiled.He seems to look through his packmates for a moment and when finally he speaks beyond his initial grunt of consideration, he still sounds removed, distant.
"There is no way to be certain she will help, though it is worth a shot I suppose." His eyes shift again to the Eagles. "Though my instinct tells me this has once more become something the Eagles must remedy."
A shrug.
(jose)
The alpha's response is wry, "So reassuring, Gabriel," as those blues eyes glide over to his pensive form, catching the shrugging slope of those shoulders. "Provided we're not likely to do more damage than as things stands," and yes, that was a slight goading flick at Sevastian and his earlier rapid-fire tactic. The spirit's resulting withdrawal. Except any annoyance which could coat otherwise clipped British tones have dissipated after the galliard wisely kept his tongue immediately that barrage."Are you able to do it?"
(vast)
Vast's annoyance is clear. "You gamble. You win. And sometimes you lose. Better than sitting on one's hands."It's also clear he does not mean this Blue Lady tactic alone.
(gabe)
Are you able to do it?"Not easily. It could be done, though my recommendation would be to seek another theurge more familiar with the Rite." He pauses, straightens. "Perhaps the Mistress of Rites."
(jose)
The brow arches sharply at the annoyance in the galliard's tone, her voice perceptibly cooling when she responds, "You are right. Except I expected you to be more wise about the odds you were gambling against."Then to Gabriel: "Do you have the necessary rite, Aurelius? If not, we will need to seek out someone who does."
(james)
I know.the sidelong look is colored with shades of a sad smile
recognizing the burden so willingly carried by her offerbut.....
they are Eagles
a war pack that fights each battle as if their last
never holding back - even against each other
no excuses. no regrest. no mercy.
..... not even to themselves.
Posted by james at 12:00 AMAugust 24, 2005.08.24.05. - new dog in town [slippery devil][forum]
(slippery devil)
The Big rig pulled over and stopped on the side of the road. The mist of the exhaust obscuring the already dark night. the passenger door opened and a shadowed figure stepped out. he readjusted a bag on his shoulder with a hand that already clutched a tattered suitcase that's seen better days. He turned and looked back at the driver and a broad white smile broke the darkness of his skin."T'ank ya, brudda. Hope ya work t'ings out wid' yo' lady friend. t'anks fo' da ride, mon."
"No problem Senka, Company's nice on these long roads. Good luck with whatever you're gonna do here."
Senka chuckled and nodded with a grin "Will do, mon." He took a few steps back and waved as the trucker pulled his big rig away from the curb and drove away to the next stop on his long lonely drive. Senka watched for a few minutes then headed on down the street. stopping in to a McDonalds and ordering a big and tasty for ninety nine cents. He took the burger and took a seat by himself enjoying the burger and watching the people meandering about the resturaunt. mostly workers preparing to close for the night and a few of chicagos more colorful night owls. He hadn't eaten since he hitched a ride from St. Louis. That's not a huge drive but it's enough to make you hungry. He wolfed it down in a matter of minutes then rose to head on his way.
Outside the Golden arches he took a deep breath of air looking around at the various people seeing which ones smelled like money and following them for a while. He eventually turned off down a side alley and set down his bags, slipping behind a dumpster and shifting to lupus. he sat down on his hind legs and howled out into the city breeze
"Slippery Devil, Cliath Ragabash of the Bone Gnawers is here."
He waited until the dogs of the surrounding neighborhood picked up the call and carried it on the breeze around the city. Once he was sure the message would get out he shifted back to his birth form and picked up his bags once again off to find a place to crash for the night.
(james)
it took awhile, but the message got to at least one set of intended ears
Chicago's resident network carrying the coded barks and howls through the night
first in one direction - then eventually passing some new news in reverse
at least it's a fairly positive response compared to others telegraphed lately
seems the members of the Barking Chain have been busy these daysWelcome Slippery Devil! Find Jukebox, Drums-On-Skulls, Adren Ahroun of the Eagle Pack - Gnawer Elderman!
James himself waits until the meat of his response works into the broadcast
clearly carried amongst lesser items concerning who's in heat, what cat has wandered into the wrong alley, or which bakery garbage bin is more delightful than which diner's at the present time
satisfied, the shaggy specimen of a mongrel lupus returns to his birth form
dreadlocks tangling heavily on top of shoulders curved under a much greater weight
dully shining Corcoran II's directing his path back to the crisis at handclear enough the newcomer should touch base with the local establishment sooner than later
((OOC: You've probably read I'm im-freakin'-possible to get hold of at the moment, damn RL for inflicting itself upon my RP-time! *chuckle* But feel free to grab me over forum IM, email (wolf(at)puppetmotel.net), or AIM (Grraack) for whatever. I'd be happy to continue a meet'n'greet pseudo-scene in this thread for lack of being able to run into each other on the chats. Welcome to ChiDusk!))
[in progress]Posted by james at 12:00 AMAugust 13, 2005.08.13.05. - interrogation pt 2 [kemp-annemarie] *ul[forum / ic]
(kemp)
He went with James to see what kind of information, if any, they could get out of the two gunmen. Kemp sat there poking the two unconscious men now and then, waiting for them to either wake up or die. Coming back to check on them between his other duties. Checking in with James when he did come back.Watching two bodies was boring as snot. Pretty soon he was going to have to start doing things like cutting hair, shaving heads, painting toenails and fingernails. Anything he could think of to the two guys just for entertainment purposes while waiting.
(st)
Interrogations.One gunman has passed away into a coma during the wait, the one that suffered from too much damage to the head.
The second gunman appears to be recovering from wounds that were sought to by Roxanne after she called in a favor with a street doctor to come patch this gunman up. The street doctor seems to ask no questions just does his job and tells Roxanne how to care for him until the gunman comes around.
The gunman is awake, handcuffed to a pipe next to a radiator and putting up a resistance when Roxy tried to tend to him. She lets James and Kemp know the idiot is awake and primed for talking.
-----------
Gunman #1-- braindead. Removed from the premises and put out of his misery if the Eagles allowed Roxy to do it.
Gunman #2-- sitting on his ass handcuffed to a water pipe. He has been screaming and yelling since he woke up. He's also been swearing at Roxanne, the entire time she sat their watching him. Straddling a chair with her arms folded over the top, a gun resting in her hand.
(james)
one gunman passed into a coma during the intermission
....... oops.
Eagle promised to teach James compassion, not conservation
and braindeadly useless as the guy may seem
the Gnawer did not allow Roxy to dispose of the soon-to-be body for whatever reasonbe it psychological torture on GM#2, or something else entirely
thus far it's only for the Ahoun to knowbootsteps sound from behind the seated Walker kin
rough palm pats her shoulder in gratitude soon as he's close enough
lanky raggedyman skirting her "throne" and strolling towards the handcuffed man
the length of steel pipe rests casually on the bridge of one shoulder
nine inch spike glittering in the factory's low light
all six feet one inches of him folding to a squat some three feet away
lungful of cigarette smoke exhaled towards their POW"Tha's no way t' speak to a lady."
(kemp)
"Oh man, put a sock in it. Ya keep that up and I'll have to wash your mouth out." Snickers. Sending across the link.
Ya know, he is probably a pawn the stink ass freak sent in to cause shit to happen or maybe that so called preacher dude. Strolling towards the cuffed man with a casual step over the other body.
(annemarie)
She is there as well. Silent intimidation, for all her polished and dyke-ish looks. Long steady strides carry her over the brain-dead man, and she follows her younger packmate across the way. Soon, she's standing behind jukebox and his pipe, taking the stance of a bodyguard, feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed under the swell of her breasts.Silent.
(st)
The gunmen stops screaming when the Eagles approach, he is looking at them. His face is red, beads of sweat running across his bald head. His eyes dart from person to person, wary, and then towards the body of his friend."What the fuck you all want?"
Roxanne snorts, glancing up to Jukebox with a smile as she felt the clasp on her shoulders. She remains seated, not going anywhere.
(james)
We'll find out soon enough. the words carry a hint of dark humor, even though there's no trace of it on the Gnawer's rugged features Let's hope he's more cooperative.aside from the fact his patience is strung thin due to lack of sleep
James would rather not play automotive baseball with his skull again quite yet - if ever
seconds tick mercilessly by as the Ahroun studies their captive
surely aware of how uncomfortable the shackled position must be
..... healing injuries, unquenched thirst, unknown days of growing hunger
each passing moment must have quite the effect on the man's frame of mind"I wanna play a game."
slow and controlled in contrast to the man's running sweat
the guttermutt goes so far as to offer a lopsided half-smile before carrying on"Th' rules'r simple. F'r ev'ry ques'ion I ask, 'r reques' I make. You provide'n ans'r. If y'r smar', it'll be th' ans'r I wanna hear. Each inadequate response'll resul' in a bruise. Af'r tha', brok'n bones. Wh'n I run outta bones........" oh how that smile flashes deadly "Hopef'lly we won' get there."
a pause allowing the perameters of the situation to sink in
"Nah t' show me yeh un'rstan' the rules, start off by 'pologizin' a my blon' 'ssociate sittin' righ' there. If nah f'r her, yew'd still be a bloody mess."
(am)
A date? Why Kemp, I never knew you cared... A slight smirk, though it should be noted that even with the stress of the situation, the doubled patrols, the time she's putting in to hold the territory for theduration - there's still an ease about her shoulders, a lessoning of tension that only those who know her extremely well would notice.Of course, that simply puts her so much more likely to strike with relaxed ease...
(st)
"Fuck you, Scarface, I ain't apologizin' for shit. The Blond can go fuck herself." A wrong choice of words, despite the situation the Gunman has himself in. His nostrils flare, breathing in and out in heavy pants. His head turns to level cold eyes on Kemp, if the Rotager gets any closer. The Gunman looks ready to kick him.(kemp)
"Dude, he wants ya. And I thought I would get to fuck him first." Snickering again. Giving the man an appraising look. "Could do a few things here since he don't wanna be nice. Feed him his buddy. Cut off his toes, one at a time, feed those to him. Then the fingers. But frankly, I'd let her." Cocking his head towards Ruhiger. "Pull his dick out by the roots and feed that to him." Shrugs, gnawing another piece off the jerky.(james)
"Wrong ans'r."the steel pipe leverages up off the muscular curve of his shoulder
tip arcing smoothly through the air until it lands on an outstretched gunman leg
,,,,,, so much for those thoughts of kicking Kemp
while the spike's still pointing skyward and only the blunt side of the steel may have connected
there's little doubt it was applied with a bit more force than absolutely necessary
the pipe's withdrawn so steadily it's frightening the Gnawer didn't even bat an eye
murmuring though his voice is actually a low, persuasive, growl"'less yew wanna end up like y'r buddy, I advise yeh rec'nsider'n start coop'ratin' fr'm here on ou'."
(gift - persuasion, char+subterfuge = 4d10, 6 diff + 2 extra diff due to battlecar)
4D10 Dice Roll: 1; 7; 9; 10 - 1 sux(am)
She just shakes her head. Wrong answer indeed. A slide of her hand into her pocket and she pulls out - a nail file, of all things. What, you never noticed how nice her manicure is? What else would she do on all those long ass patrols on slow nights?Idly she begins to file her nails, cleaning out what looks suspiciously like blood from underneath them - and her gaze never quite strays away from the man.
(st)
"AAAGH! FUCK, MAN!" He swears out in pain, banging his head back against the wall. His eyes squeeze shut tightly, "Look I don't know shit. I don't know who you guys are. If this is about sleeping with your wife. I never saw the Blond in my life I swear." He rambles out, tears welling up from the pain.(kemp)
"Oh dude, he's a funny man. Don't know nothing about shooting people and shit. Damn, I think he needs another love pat."(james)
the Gnawer has to swallow a chuckle as the gunman's plea reaches closure
interesting how the rambling associations were made in times of desperation
but the amusement, however brief, doesn't show beyond flicker of approval's half-grin"You won' be sleepin' wi' my wife 'less you decide a start breakin' th' rules, 'gain. 'm sure she's been lonely af'r five years'n th' grave." smirked "Nah. Who sen' ya af'r the kids'n th' Bronco. Why w're yeh tryin' a kill'm."
steel pipes hefted back over the frame of his shoulder
dark eyes dropping to the other yet un-attended leg
and back up(kemp)
~Balls dude, I'm telling ya, threaten his dick and buds and he will sell his soul to keep them. Leaning a little closer to lear at the guy. "Ouch man."(james)
In due time, Kemp. Things like this are supposed to get progressively worse.... not get the worst part out of the way first thing. Self-preservation should kick in before I have to bargain like that to get what I want.(st)
"I wasn't trying to kill the kids. We were suppose to fetch them. That's all." The gunman breathes out quickly, flicking his eyes around frantically. He pulls on the handcuffs, trying to sit up straighter.(kemp)
~Aw man, ya can at least say you're gonna smash them.~Maybe showing a side of him they hadn't ever seen. "Fetch them where for who?"(james)
pipe hefts off James' shoulder once again
but instead of repeating the downward arc
it lofts lightly, then falls to smack against his outstretched palmtwice
a brow lifts towards dreads indicating the man forgot part of the question
(st)
The man flinches, turning his face away. "I don't know who sent us. I wasn't told."(james)
the pipe rotates against rough palm
aiming the malicious razor spike downwards, now“Yeh.... dunno who hire’ yeh.” smack. smack. “Y’sure?” smack. smack. smack. “Where yeh takin’m once yeh had’m.”
(st)
Roxanne arches an eyebrow just watching this with amusement. She remains quiet, however.The gunman looks away, keeping his eyes closed. "No. It's a job. We get a call to do a pick up. Some kids and take'em to a shelter. That's it."
(am)
What, he doesn't have Caller ID? And which shelter...Yup, still listening.
(james)
“What.”KR-ACK!
the pipe slams down between the gunman’s legs
spike chipping a good hunk of cement out of the floor on impact
vibration carries through the gunman’s lower extremeties
no doubts how much damage next strike can do if the raggedyman puts his mind to it
and his patience is wearing extremely thin“Shelt’r.”
lips curl back over the Ahroun’s even, white teeth
what could have been a crooked, playful smile is nothing but a hard-edged sneer
pipe leveraged out of the cement and back into the air prepping for next fall“S’rude no’ lookin’ a who’s talkin’ to yeh... an yeh know I dunn tolera’e bein’ rude.” he waits until the man’s eyes lift to his own dark pools, such soft earthen tones barely holding Full Moon’s Rage at bay “Wha’s th’ call’s return numb’r. Code na’e. Sound’ve’iz voice. S’not polite a keep secre’s like this.......”
(kemp)
"Oh man, he missed. Damn, do it again." Shaking his head, speaking to the guy quickly. "Better spill it man before he gets the pipe up again."(st)
The gunman wets his lips, silent for a moment, "Heartstone." He doesn't look up at James, his head remains lowered. The rage of the 'Gnawer, scaring him.
"If you want the number check the fucking cellphone, dammit."(kemp)
"Oh man, he still has balls. Listen to him." Shooting James a pleading look. "Just one? Please? He'll have one left. Don't need him breeding anyway."
(james)
Ring any bells?it’s rhetoric in his packmate’s heads - if it doesn’t now, it will
though they aren’t awarded any sidelong glance with the comment
the Gnawer continuing to staredown now cowering gunman
deep breath huffing out of his lungs in irritation
why do interrogations have to be like pulling blood from bricks?
...... even if... they wouldn’t be interrogations otherwisethe philosophical humor is lost
“Fox.” after the silence, barked word sounds like a gunshot as it’s flung blindly over his shoulder at the sentinel Glass Walker “Be so kind as’a read off th’ recen’ calls ‘til are man here lets yeh know which’z th’ ‘ppropria’e numb’r.”
((YES IT SHOULD RING A BELL. Checked w/ Shann, she says it’s the name of the shelter the Bowen kid was killed in. Had to ask b/c the thread only names it as a women’s shelter, but does not include the name. That info could be easily found by PCs w/o much research.))
(kemp)
~Well duh.~A mental snicker. Yeah it rang bells with him.(st)
This catches the gunman's attention, his head lifts up as Roxy produces a crappy flip phone from her pocket, starting to look through the recent numbers. She begins to read them off, the man doesn't show any signs of recognition to them. He is biting down on his tongue and trying to control his breathing.
(kemp)
He couldn't take it anymore. Leaning in closer to the guy to sniff at him with a wild hungry look in his green eyes. "Betcha taste like chicken. Smell like it."(st)
"Jukebox, I gotta number for a Heartstone's on here. Old call though." Roxanne pipes up at the last minute, eyeing Kemp as she looks up from the phone.
(james)
as the captive’s silence continues, the Ahroun’s patience draws thinner
knuckles paling around the grip fist wraps around deadly length of metal
opposite grip twisting, rotating the curve against his palm
chaffing molded steel against armored callousesbut whatever explosion was about to come is somehow averted
James suddenly remembering that the phone wasn’t found on this particular gunman
and his hand lifts away from metal to some open-palmed gesture of apology
.............. admitting his mistake“When’d yeh get th’ call a go af’r the kids.” dark eyes flick towards the comatose gunman’s prone body “’n he th’ one tha’ handle all th’rrangements?”
(st)
"He handled some of the arrangements. Mario did the rest, we were to meet up with some guy named Eddie. He was going to help us get the kids." The gunman looks up, swinging his eyes over to his comatose partner.(kemp)
"Eddie's dead man." A slow peeling of lips back from teeth to bare them in a fascimily of a smile.(am)
She arches a brow, and flicks a glance toward the body, then back again. Still silent. Damn that has to be unnerving, don't it.(james)
and that? is all the Gnawer needed to know
lanky frame unfolding for a few steps over to the comatose gunman
and right infront of his partner’s eyes - James hefts the pipe and splits his skull like a watermelon
or, well, more like he finishes the job he started when first they met
brains and blood splattering all over the floor and even himself and the cufffed gunman
emotionless as can be the spike’s wiggle-pulled out of the stickly spreading mess“Dust’m.” a glance to AnneMarie “Jump ov’r’n have a chat w’th’iz spook, see if yew c’n fill in th’ blanks.” a glance to Kemp “I’ll keep’r man comp’ny.”
assignments handed out as if he were delegating who was going to set the dinner table later
the guttermutt’s strolling back over to his previous spot as calm-as-can-be
apparently heedless of the gore dripping off his beloved stick as it’s propped back up over a shoulder
free hand digging out his pack of smokes and lighting one up as he sits, cross-legged this time
dark eyes snapping up to the cuffed captive and offering another one of those partial, odd little smiles
(.... it’s fucking cheshire, Jamey-boy, admit it......)
he’s seem downright friendly if it weren’t for that bloodsplatter or festering beast just behind his eyes“So..... wh’t oth’r details w’re yeh ‘bout t’tell me a y’r little ‘ssignmen’?”
(am)
She nods, then, and pulls the small bottle of death dust from her pocket, and kneels by the recently dead. She concentrates a moment, and activates the talen with the touch of her own spirit, before she spreads it across the dead man's chest.A glance at Kemp, and to help with the intimidation factor? She doesn't bother to hide. In fact - she simply grasps a piece of the broken jar, concentrates, and sidesteps.
(kemp)
And he was pulling that little toy mirror from his pocket to concentrate and step over behind Ruhiger with a grin back at the gunman still living. Mouthing. Later.(st)
The death dust is tossed on the body, and the Eagles slip sideways to the spirit of the first gunman floating there. Missing part of his face.The second gunman shrieks, looking away as he begins to shake. "I was told to take the kids to this shelter. All I know."
(kemp)
This was a first for him. He never talked to the dead before. Shit, how did you deal with this? Well he did speak with a spirit once, but that was Carmen and she didn't hate him, she said so herself.(am)
She, of course, cannot speak to the spirit, but she can aid the kid in doing so and lending him the support of one who's at least seen it done. She moves close to the spirit, while speaking across the totemphone. The Spirit is likely frightened. But you can speak with him as with any living being. Try to get the answers needed. I'll do my best to keep him here. We've limited timing, so best to ask before he gathers his wits to be truly angered or terrified.(kemp)
"Oh man, what a mess. Listen, I can help ya if ya just talk to me. I need to know who sent ya after the kids and why and what ya were suppose to do with them." Shrugging with a little smile. "See, we don't got much time if I'm gonna be of any help to ya."(james)
James can’t help but pity the gunman as he cries and turns away... somewhere.... deep down
while the man may have entertained the notion he wasn’t going to get out of this alive anyway
hard pressed he needs further convincing any thought of escape is just a pain-induced hallucination
no captives witness shit like this and live to tell the story, none
and how agonizing it must be for a heart to accept such realized fate“Are. You. Sure.” Adren’s crouched just a foot away, now, low words riding the cresting wave of throttling growl that has no place coming from the body of a normal human being, and maybe it’s the slightest discord in deep umber eyes that gives away the raggedy is precisely anything but that “Th’n tell me all yeh know ‘bout Eddie.”
(st)
The gunman keeps his face turned away, resting his cheek against the wall. His eyes shut he can only hear Jukebox's words. "I know nothing of Eddie. He was some bum. S'all I know."--
Umbralside, the spirit hovers there, blinking in confusion as it watches Kemp and Annemarie.
(am)
Slow down - one question at a time. He's confused. Ask him about the children, about eddie, about the Shelter - but take your time. It comes across as one who teaches, not that she's being condenscending, or telling him what to do. She's there to help, that's all. He's there to lend his voice, and his quick wit.(kemp)
"Dude, you remember Eddie? He set ya up man. Tell me what he told you." It was hard for Kemp to slow down, he had fast forward and super fast.(st)
Umbralside, the spirit shakes his head. "Some bum. S'all I know. Get kids..."(am)
Where was he to take them..
(kemp)
"Ok man, where were ya suppose to take them? Do ya remember?" Trying to slow down and not freak him out more. Really wanting to smack the shit out of the ghost.(st)
The ghost continues to appear confused, staring at them with a blank expression as it floats there. One word echoes from him, "Priest."(james)
there’s a point when one realizes they’re beating a dead horse - or almost-dead gunmen
a predator recognizes prey’s sudden embrace of undeniable defeat
it can be heard, seen, smelled, even tasted from the chemicals wildly shifting beneath flesh
and the Ahroun has reached this very conclusion with the gunman at hand
genuinely believing that there is nothing else to tap from this resourceJames hated the gunman for what his actions were going to do to the children
the primal animal thirsting for obliterating revenge; punishing the man for what he almost did
there is a segment of subterranean humanity realizes the man was only doing a job
.... just like the Gnawer Elderman does his own duty to the Mother
logic dictates there was no personal animosity towards the children as Eddie so fractiously held
it was nothing more than a paid service once all emotions are removedsometimes the worst things come from the best intentions.... isn’t that what they say?
Eagle promised to teach James compassion
perhaps that is why he strikes while the cuffed man’s head is still turned
giving no warning nor apology for the fierce swing of already bloodstained pipe
executing the hobbled man quickly, if not exactly neatly
dark eyes glancing apologetically to Roxy still waiting safely out of splatter’s cast“Keep’n eye ou’” a nod setting dreads swaying on his shoulders indicates he’s about to cross over with the others “I’ll help yeh clean u’h wh’n we ge’ back.”
surface found to aid step slanting across the barrier
quietly lingering just behind his packmates and the spirit
not wanting to interrupt, this is their show this round - he had his fun
watching for now, helping out only if needed
(kemp)
"Ok good job, what is the priest's name?" Awfuck me, this is killing me.(am)
You're doing fine. Ask for the place - see if he comes up with the shelter name.She hovers close, close enough to finish off the spirit if need be, but otherwise just silent support.
(st)
Roxanne looks up towards Jukebox with a small shake of her head. Calloused to the excution, "Go on, shugah, I'll clean up." She waves him off.--
The ghost continues to stare blankly, as if it was hard to hold a rational thought. "Priest." Is all it repeats.
(james)
You’re just fine, Kemp, not everything works out when plowed into. there’s a partial chuckle, here, muted sound of chuffed self-depreciation echoing in their minds Better accept it now else you’ll end up getting reminded the hard way like me. Ask about Heartstone. Maybe it’ll recognize the name easier than coming up with one on it’s own.(kemp)
"Heartstone, that mean anything to you?" Grasping at straws here. "Know where it is?"(st)
The ghost of the gunman shakes his head. Starting to grow transparent before the Eagles's eyes.(kemp)
"Awfuck me. Heartstone don't mean shit to ya? What about the priest? Why he want the kids?"(james)
Don’t worry about it, kid. More than we expected out of that one. thankfully James is positioned behind his packmates, so they do not catch a sheepishly crooked grin flickering across his mouth I’m not surprised they didn’t know details of the job. Probably won’t find out why the Priest wanted these kids specifically until we proposition the man himself. Got enough between them to answer the questions we had.dark eyes strafe towards the flickering spirit
watching it fade from their view and on to a...... nother place
gaze travels back towards his packmates with confirmation’s nod up
they each did well working together tonight, accomplishing the job set forth quick and clean
well.... maybe not so cleanWho’s up f’r relaying what we found? I promised Roxy I’d help her clean up the mess I made in there....
and there is the semi-sheepish grin across the Gnawer’s features
moving to step back across the border between realms(kemp)
"Awfuck me, I can't help but wish I could of read his mind." A shake of his head with a cock of it to Ruhiger, beaconing her after him as he crossed.(am)
She nods, and follows back across, before nodding up to Kemp. You pass it on. I've patrols to run if we're done here.When the nod of dismissal is given, she gathers her things, and makes her way to again accomplish the never ending Omega Patrol Pattern.
[end]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Decker’s questions for the gunmen from the truck-killing scene:
(decker)
"Fuckin' l'il bane Hyde 'n me caught was babblin' bout her comin' fer tha children too," he chips in.
Then he straightens up a little, sitting on the edge of Roxy's truck-bed. "Naw, no hotels, no outsiders. We'll keep 'er at tha old Eagles warehouse. Want James 'n Kemp ta question these fuckers," he toes one of the passed-out gunmen, "when they wake tha fuck up. Figger out what they have ta do with all this shit. Why they was there, what they wanted, how they related ta Cyclops man 'n l'il cyclops bane." A pause. "Both'a 'em only had one eye." Shrug. "Don't know if that means nothin'.
"Rest'a us is gonna take turns watchin' tha girl in case La Llorona makes another house-call. Tell Tris he kin come see her, but he cain't take 'er home. Annemarie, you got first shift."--------------------
summary of info:
Gunman #2:
They were hired by phone, GM#1 and Mario were the main ones coordinating the deal. Hired by an unknown client for a pick up, coordinating meeting with a bum named Eddie to fetch the three kids and taken them to Heartstone Shelter. That is the shelter the Bowen boy was found killed Bogeybitch style just recently. Number of the caller is in memory of the cell that Roxy pulled from GM#1 upon arrival at warehouse. Number didn’t ring a bell to GM#2, however Roxy found a number for Heartstone in memory, though it was an old call. Roxy still has the phone.Gunman #1
Upon identifying as main coordinator, James finished bashing his head in, AnneMarie deathdusted, and Kemp handled the questioning by himself. Confirm Eddie the bum was supposed to meet them and assist in getting the kids. New info is that kids were to be delivered to a Priest. All they got before ghost faded.Some Priest at Heartstone Shelter?
How’d he know to track these three kids, specifically?
Involvement in Bowen death....?Posted by james at 12:00 AMAugust 09, 2005.08.09.05. - morgue groupies [imogen-annemarie] *ul[forum - cont'd from the other deathdusted spirit thread - crimescene vultures]
(imogen)
Imogen's phone vibrates and emits a small distinct ting! when she receives Anne Marie's test message, but she waits until she is idling at a red light before she checks it, dark eyes glancing down to stark words illuminated by artificial glows. She thumbs her response as she accelerates, typing it out without looking, glancing down only to confirm she has no abhorrent typos before she sends."Wait on street 4 me. BRT."
Imogen had nothing to follow, and is parked before the body removal service arrives. She waits on the street in the shadow of a bus shelter, and watches the removal van pass her by, heading toward the morgue, then the taxi after it.
(seperating us from the rest, since we're in different locales. heh.)
(am)
It is her phone's turn to make the noise signaling Dr. Slaughter's quick reply. She does not bother replying again, as it should be evident she will wait for Imogen as requested. The cab stops a half a block away, she pays and steps out, making sure she has the death dust in her pocket still.She watches to see what building the body is being delivered too, and heads that way. Likely just another gawking sidewalk ambulance watcher, of course, even though her pale eyes are searching for Imogen.
Upon seeing her at the bus shelter, she alters her direction to head that way, though still doing the best to maintain her 'i'm just passing by' stride.
(imogen)
Imogen is as inconspicuous as she can be, with her slight height, her vibrant hair, even dampened in shadow. She's dressed simply in jeans and a dark blouse, the fabric scraping against the frame of the bus shelter as she leans against it, watching Anne Marie approach, her gaze lifting to watch the taxi cab drive away.Imogen smirks, for reasons known only to herself, some wry humour touching her mouth, twisting her lips, and sparking in dark eyes and she turns her attention back to Anne Marie - still humoured, though it is a sardonic twist to her mouth, and no where near a smile.
"It wouldn't be a good idea fer yeh to come in wit' me," she greets Anne Marie with words, somewhat discomforted by the fact she speaks, and Annemarie writes, and for once, she is not the quiet one. "Can yeh gi' me the dust and wait for... whatever it is, on the other side?" Her hands slide into the front pockets of her jeans, and she tilts her head as she lifts it to look at the mute Modi, economically getting her hair out of her eyes.
(am)
She listens to the smaller woman, and arches a slim brow. The whiteboard is pulled from her pocket, and she writes quickly."That will be fine. For obvious reasons, I need Jukebox with me. I will cordinate the timing with him, and activate the talen."
She hands the board to Imogen to read, while her gaze takes that slightly distant look that Imogen is well used to. It signals the use of the Totemphone, conversations to which the redhead is not privy to.
Imogen will use the dust, she requests I wait on the other side. It makes sense, fewer questions that way. Obviously I can't speak to the girl, however. Got an estimated time that you can reach me? I will activate the dust, give it to her, then await you're arrival Umbrally.
(james)
That's fine. James' voice comes back over the TotemPhone after slight delay, attention splitting between what's going on Umbrally as well as his packmate's check-in Trust that she'll follow through on your instructions. I've got their Theurge Gabriel working with the boy's spirit now. I'll head your way soon as things wrap up here. Not sure how much longer it'll take. Not sure who I'll have with me when I get there.(am)
There's a nod to communication that Imogen can't hear - a smirk to the comment made by the good doctor. Then, she holds the last of her deathdust in her hand, and concentrates a moment, the tingle of her spiritual self added to the lest precious jar.With that, she hands it to Imogen and then writes.
"I'll wait on the other side. James will be on his way shortly. Thank you."
A nod - up of course, and AnneMarie waits until she is given her board back again, tucks it away and heads toward the nearest alleyway in order to sidestep.
(imogen)
Imogen takes the pad, and studies it a moment, before glancing up at Anne Marie. "D'yeh need me t'wait before," her other hand moves, raising the jar of precious contents in indication, "dustin' it? Or do it immediately?"She offers the mute her board back, but really, all the metis must do is shake her head no, or nod yes.
If the answer is yes, the slight redhaired kinfolk inclines her head in acknowledgement, "Text me when yeh're ready."
If the answer is no, she lifts slender shoulders in a shrug. "Give me a bit. There'll be paperwork tha' I need t'do, before I go down t'the morgue."
And with that, the slight kinfolk walks away, shoes whispering on grass as she takes the long way around toward the back of the morgue, a hand reaching into her back pocket, and pulling out something white - her I.D.
(am)
AnneMarie takes her whiteboard back, and shakes her head no. By the time the Doctor does her paperwork and gets a chance to get into the morgue, the Modi expects she will have company on the other side, waiting along with her.And so - do the nearest alley, empty and shadowed, to some random shiny bit that shows her reflection...
...and the modi sidesteps.
[in progress]
Posted by james at 12:00 AM.08.09.05. - talespinning [nelly-justin][skidrow]
(james)
just after six o'clock - seems James is just about on time
it's not your typical neighborhood for what's considered the Skid Row part of town
the cul-de-sac presenting a rather well-kept collection of little domeciles
lawns covered with little bits of naturally blooming flowers atop the grass
last house on the left being the one of particular interest to him
the restored three-story bungalow heralding Chicago's heyday back in the 20's or 30's
numbers tacked on the front wall seem to match the one's scrawled on the inside of his left wristthis must be the place Nelly described during their earlier phone call
only way to find out is knocking on the door and finding out who's home
Corcoran's mutely thumping on the sidewalk leading each step closer
Alice pack shifting on muscular shoulder to the tune of telltale clinking glass
dreads swinging right back to where they were before fingers raked through tangled mop
not that looks truly mattered, in the scheme of things, but old habits die hard
never make a housecall looking more disheveled than you have to, Momma Ruggs always said
and beneath the rugged Adren exterior, the Gnawer is still that little boy she loved and raised
fist curls to rap knuckles against the door..... then he spots the bell button, opting for a more civilized brrrrrrING since, well, it's so conveniently there(nelly)
Cleaning and clearing held her the majority of the day. Pangea given a myriad of things to do... upstairs... leaving the child free roam of two floors whilst the first floor and basement she knew to be off limits. Emmit and Ted were up there, one sleeping, one 'playing' with the metis.So the first floor [Compacted of the foyer: to the left the livingroom. To the right, the diningroom. Ahead a long hallway. Just off to the right side of the hallway and diningroom the doorways to the kitchen. Down the hallway further two doors closed off and a turn where stairs ended] held pungent smells of food and coffee. Just under that the mottled scents of Knights trueborn members as well as some probablly unknown Squire sents.
Nelly had even gotten dressed. Yes, gasp now. She had sat in termoil for an hour before deciding Emmit's suggestion was the way to go. Though she destested having to wear clothes in her own damn house, she slipped on the least amount she could. Squeezing her tanned body into a pair of dirty cut up, daisy duke jean shorts. A black tanktop hugging her frame splayed wide white letters that read 'Gozar the Destructor', the material appearing as if any mintue it would burst from the pressure of her breasts. She was even freshly washed, her hair still damp brushed back from her face.
When the doorbell chimed its special tune - "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" - she padded barefoot down to the doorway. Pausing but a moment as if in silent contemplation, then opening the door. A smile brandished across her face, "Hi there! Come on in," stepping to one side and holding the door wide for him to enter.
(james)
beneath the raggedy mop of dreads and little, round black sunglasses
there's a forever lopsided grin spreading it's unique curve crookedly across his jaw
for as strange as it may appear in accordance with the regulations of a conventional smile
the characteristic is actually rather boyishly charming considering none other could get away with it
it would appear plastic, disconcerting, or even misplaced on another's features
however, James seems to pull it off as a genuinely warm expression once the door swings open"Sum'one ord'r room s'rvice?" one fist still leveraging pack's strap over bare shoulder tightens when bicep flexes, causing the interior cargo of beer bottles to rattle in their cardboard carriers "Thank' Nelly."
the Ahroun's attire is certainly less revealing than the hostess Galliard
baggy fatigues slouch around the ankles of dully shined black boots
wifebeater above that plastered to his chest not by sex-appeal, but more the stroll beneath late afternoon sun
fortunately the stroll wasn't long enough to require a hose immediately upon his arrival
though little sunglasses do end up slipping slightly down his nose once inside
deep umber eyes glancing over the top rims as he takes in the first floor then looks back to Nelly"Tol' me a take a wil'e guess'n th' beer..... so I did."
(nelly)
Across the threshold there then came the oddest sensation. Well, perphaps not so odd to a knowing Elder. Everyone who walked thru the door had a calming sensation affect, having to take a deep breath as if Gaia had breathed her healing love into the air itself. [Black Unicorn dedicated Hearth Stone]. Nerves could calm, rage was lessened and for that moment it felt similar to stepping into the power given off by a Caern.Her eyes slid over the Adren from head to foot. A chuckle trembling her body, "No problem, ah ain't too picky once it comes to beer," a shrug of a shoulder. Those ocean blues rounding back to his face, "Thank you for commin, ah know ya'll been bit busy..." She closed the doorway after he entered. A hand gesturing out to the beers, "I'll pop em in the fridge. Common to the kitchen, hope ya hungry, Butta cooked up a storm..."
(justin page-matthews)
Out of all the times she could be cleaning why did it have to be now. But Justin wouldn't just sit on his ass and do nothing, that would be incredibly impolite. But he did offer to clean the living room for her. Then again there was more of watching the Boston, Texas game then there was of cleaning. And when Mueller sent home a run there was a loud cheer. Maybe a stupid one at that, probably giving himself away now.Hell he was from Boston afterall. And that was Red Sox country.
(james)
the guttermutt was certainly a knowing Elder, and had seen his fair share of weird shit
but after taking his first steps into the protective bubble of the dedicated stone
there's a pause as James nearly has to go so far as to re-catch his breath
Ahroun's generous reserve of Rage suddenly introverting upon itself
lingering stresses of the latest ordeals winding him so tight - he forgot what it was like to relax
calming sensation more sensational as it nearly works to throw his balance entirely
it may not be such an odd thing to a knowing Elder, but it was certainly unexpected"My pleasz're." minor imblanace expertly covered as free hand reaches up to snag the falling sunglasses, drawing them away from his face before settling light wire frames atop the crown of haphazard dreads "Welc'm'd th' chance a pace."
it's when he turns to flash another smile that Nelly can see how true that may be
dark circles shadowing deep umber gaze from the Garou's apparent lack of fitful sleep
other finite details betraying that James is so worn out the break isn't simply welcome
it's goddamned necessary
pack's shifted and top flap opened as he's following her to the kitchen
handing over the Bramha six pack and two Stone Brewery singles for re-chilling
the gesture is punctuated by a rather amused chuff of laughter"F'rget y'r talkin' to a Gnaw'r, wom'n? Dunna wha' i's like a not be hungry....."
(nelly)
If there was just one single things about the Knights, it was they always had food and folks around. Nelly regarded him as they stood in the doorway. Her eyes focused on his, those signs of fatigue and wear. It caused her bottom lip to pout slightly, but she quickly regained her sunny composure just as he regained his own.Pausing to glance into the livingroom with a low chuckle. So he was a sports fan, "Bee Gee Elder's here, sugah," just the other kind. A shake of her head and she turned to pad barefoot down the hallway.
Hardwood floors mucked by deep talon marks, espcially around the kichen doorway. Though the kitchen floor was checker tiled, so it did not sustain much damage from the Knights yet. There was a wide stainless steel fridg she sauntered to, "Well, old habits dah hard ah guess," chuckling as she helped stuff the beer into the fridge. She took out two cold beers and turned to thump her hip against the door of the fridg to close it, "Ah ain't sure where the fellas are. Round somewhere. Boston's over yander in the otha room. Squire, ah ain't sure ya meet him yet. Anyways, he's one of the ones ah was inquirin bout crossing ya'lls pad to get to the hospital not long ago..."
The kitchen counters held piles of food. LeRoy's famous ribs piled high in a pan, marinated chicken breasts, a bowl of mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, black eyed peas, turnip greens, greek salad, butter rolls, and a blueberry pie.
(justin)
Then there came the voices of those within the kitchen. Well a different voice than he is used to hearing. But could he really pull away from the game right now? Ortiz was having a time at the plate right now and with Damon on first it was probably a good chance he could score. And the Yankees were down as well. Oh sweet bliss.No, no. Must be polite, especially to an Elder. Say hello. Maybe turn up the television a bit to hear it in the background. Just in case...
And from the living room came Justin, sans his black rimmed glasses. And it was amazing to see that he did own a t-shirt that wasn't dressy. Amazing.
"Hello."
A polite smile to match his Boston accent.
(james)
there's a bit of a delayed reaction to the rousing ballgame cheer
James is looking back just in time for introductions' sally forth
chin tipping in the Eagle's trademark nod-up greeting the sports fan"S'up." direction changed to offer Justin hand for shake "Jamezz."
while the raggedyman may be known as his pack's representation of PR
there are some things which instantly negate even the most ingrained of manners
such as the veritable feast just waiting around on the counter
still semi-recovering from the packhouse's aura that packs a better punch than Decker's best weed
the sight of such bounty does have an effect on the born and bred Hood
moment or three passing before he's clicked back into the present
presence of Bramha bottle in the line of his vision helping greatly
battlescar slurred New York accent taking a minute to catch up from the distraction
vocal cadence slowed deliberately so the impediment isn't quite so unintelligable"Dunn think I met any a yours save yew, LeRoy, 'n Ba'ny. Though woul'n mine gettin' a know th' ones passin' through Eagle's turf so I c'n reco'nize'm a th' stree'."
(justin)
He shook the man's hand when offered and moved over towards a vacant portion of the kitchen. Nelly and James probably had business to deal with and it was better that he stayed aside for now.If he was needed he would be right there, his attention somewhat diverted back to the game in the living room.
(nelly)
She grinned and poped the top off of one beer to hand to Elder. Upon tiptoes she seemed to walk, which was the key factor in her ever present hip swing gaite, as she moved to fix a plate of food for the Bee Gee.Setting the second bottle of beer down, "Well, Boston here is one of em. Then there is... Liz, ah think her name is? Lost kin, doesn't know too much or squat about the whole...there are werewolves..." breifly waving a dismissive hand, "She's a nurse there ah belive. At the hospital. Ya know her yet?" glancing from the filling plate to Justin and back again, "As far as I know those are the only two, but ya might wanna ask Butta next tahm ya see him cause there are so many of the Coggies I have a hard time keeping track..." finally she turned back to James and offered out plate to him, heavy laiden with food, "Sit, relax, eat, enjoy..." a chuckle.
(justin)
Justin's pager went off and he looked down, the hospital again. It was better if he took the call in the other room. Just incase they had nation business to speak of.(james)
"I can' ev'n keep track've my own blood, much less Eagle's attach' kin, so th' hell'm I s'ppose a learn all y'r folk 'f ev'n yew git los' in th' lis'?"the catty remark is nothing of the sort, really
not with the warm smile that reaches all the way to tired eyes
he's already made himself quite at home on the nearest seat within reach of open counter space
looking at Nelly with something akin to reverance as the plate gets offered and accepted"Bless yeh, Miz Crensha', s'one've th' mos' welc'me thing' I seen all day."
good thing he saw it, too, cause that plate's clearing fast
(nelly)
She turned to fix a second plate without thought, "Well, how bout ah tell Harry then to get on it. He's one of ya tribesmen anyways, so ah'll levy it to him," chuckling softly with the thought, "So shit storm out there huh? Well, ya always welcome to weather it in here, sugah, for whatever reason," another hand waved dismissivly then picked up the bottle of beer.She pivoted around a counter and poped the top on the edge of a drawer. Then took a long needed sip. It was a breath after that she continued fixing the second plate, "Oh, does everyone know already bout ya'lls achievements? Ah mean the rumors go around but lahk officially?"
(james)
"S'a storm, allrigh'.... but I'm no' sure've quite wha'." muscular shoulders shrug, flexing the white fabric against tanned flesh, iridescent patterns along his inner right arm keep catching oblique light with each movement of either fork or beer towards mouth and back again, dark eyes slipping up to the Walker at her last question "Whi'sh 'chievements?"(nelly)
"Your new higher level, another bar across the shoulder. Ya know, ya rank," She chuckled and turned to pick up her beer. A few steps cleared to pause on the other side of the counter from him. The plate in her hand put down before the one he was clearing swiftly.(james)
swiftly? that plate was gone, baby
any remarks Butta'd ever made about the Gnawer's ability to eat
James certainly lives up to the standard
second plate accepted with a nod of thanks as if he hadn't even felt the first one
at least he takes the time to wash last mouthful down with a bit of beer before trying to talk
entire thing started off with gaze tucked downwards (it's at the plate, really) with soft laughter"Doubt'ih." dark eyes flick upwards briefly, though easily return to attending the plate "Pack does by defaul', but haven' much spoke've't 'roun' anyone else."
again, slow shrug of his shoulders dismissing the admission
it's highly probable he simple hasn't thought it should be done
the Sept recognizes the new Rank, why would they need know the details?(nelly)
She leaned on the counter, holding her head up with a perched hand. Lazy lidded blues sliding over him, watching with some idle facination, "Well," a soft sigh as she stirred herself up. Taking the empty plate and going back to the counter to refill it, "Ah'll leave it up to ya if ya want it told at the next moot," a shoulder shrugged, "Either way it'll go down in the records and to the Maelstrom. And well, sedate mah curiosity on varied levels..." laughing softly.(james)
"Fair 'nuff."concession comes on ebbing tide of soft chuckle
between the HearthStone's calming powers, the beer beginning to buzz, and the satation of a full (however temporary) stomach
James' mood has altered significantly in the short time since stepping through the door
in a shocking move, any upcoming plate is put on hold for now
hard enough to understand him when not speaking with his mouth full
he'll happily nurse the remaining beer in bottle numbah one for now"Well." a little less remains after slow swallow "What'cha wanna know, 'n how mush detail?"
(nelly)
His hunger for food was mirrored only by her hunger for the story. Maybe at this point in their seclusion any would do."Anythin ya want to depart to me, sugah," again she came to rest on the opposite side of the counter. Placing the plate down with apt attention he had refuted to take it just yet. The grin flashed across her lips before she could stop herself. The beer bottle tipped against her lips for a slow chug.
(james)
such close proximity of the hungry Galliard doesn't seem to phase the Ahroun
perhaps he simply recognizes what it is, exactly, that has peaked her interest
and that may be what stirs the street performer hidden beneath warrior's skin
rare that any see this nuance of his personality in past handful of months
"I've nuthin' a hide, ask f'r th' whole story'n I'm willin' a share't...... a one c'ndition." arm stretches clinking his bottle against hers to seal the makeshift deal "Yeh spill wha' these rum'rs flyin' 'roun' are, firs'."fascinated, himself, that such things would even be a topic of conversation, it seems
(nelly)
A soft clink of glass against glass made her smile more, "Rumors?" chuckling, "Oh lord, what are they now? Ah got a two headed demon hidden up mah twat or what?"(james)
the Adren.... blinks
that was not the response he expected
but it got him to laugh, even if minorly delayed"Mean' wh'tev'r rum'rs flyin' 'roun' 'bout lates' 'chievmen's, you 'nferred s'methin' like it jus' now." or. so James thought. "Haven' heard nuthin' 'bout two-head' dem'ns, m'sel'."
(nelly)
She was leaned over the counter again, a hand holding up her head. Brows furrowing softly together in confusion, "Ummm...what rumors?" a heavy blink and the full of her blues were back on him.(james)
the Walker in...... meager... clothing leans across the counter
James wasn't precisely ready for the view he got in leiu of expected beer
one more point for the home-team throwing the Gnawer off guard yet again"Nev'rmine." chuckled as he finally gets around to swallowing that beer instead of his tongue "Story, 'stead."
and without much further preamble, the Ahroun begins the long tale of his Challenge ordeal
admitting, perhaps, more than would be expected between two beings unfamiliar with each other off the battlefield
but James is a born and bred showman, more years than not spent relying on his ability to entertain directly related to keeping his stomach full
it is also something the Hood genuinely enjoys to do
and something he's sorely missed - slur having damaged his bone structure as well as ability to pursue the former pasttime turned living
taking the chance to relate a tale in its entirety to captive audience
making sure to get it all said before Nelly discovers just how much a lightweight he really is
first beer finished, and he's up to serve the second round
all the while continuing slow recollection of the story she so craves
second bottle empties from the effort of keeping his tongue supple
and the third set dealt from the fridge will likely be his undoing
James takes care not to consume this one all too quickly
sipping instead of slugging the first post-cap-pop swallow"'Any've y'r cur'osity lef' un'sated?"
(nelly)
Indeed she was captivated. Never moving save to sip her beer now and again. Even as he rose, she followed him with her gaze, glancing over a shoulder when he retrieved another beer. The steady beat of black lashes gave more signs of life, draining his words like a dry sponge to water.When he was done she was silent a moment. Then with a stir, "Wow," raising back up, she took her own bottle of beer to plant it in the recycle bin. Retreiving her own second, "So....and why don't ya talk much at the Tales and Songs?" glancing back with furrowed brows.
(james)
dark eyes regard curious blue gaze beneath the frame of heavy dreads
they drop towards bottle for another sip-turned-chug-turned-moment's-contemplation
chuckling softly as he glances back up to meet the forrowed query"Y'r shitt'n' me, righ'?"
(nelly)
A shake of her head, "Nope," grinning as she walked back to him. Her curiostiy sedated with the story left her eyes a bit more heavy laiden, as if she had a fully belly, "Why not?"(james)
brows lift curiously with her negation
watching as she shortens the space between them
laughter once more rolling out of somewhere low in his chest
self-depreciation angling the smirk playfully spread"S'hard a spin tales wh'n most've y'r aud'yence can' un'rstan' yeh." murmur's half from the beer, and half from some scant regret "Battlescar sort've fuck'd storytellin' fr'm my lis've talen's."
(nelly)
"Ya think they understand me?" chuckling, "Hell half the time I get blank stares. Or in the case of our Kemp, snores..." a shrug of a shoulder before she took as sip of beer, "Ah ratha fancy hearin ya talk. Its different if not all together strange but its ...well, its life in a way," fingertips reaching down to pluck a pea from the plate and pop it in her mouth.(james)
"Think y'r th' firs' ev'r say tha'." genuine humor replaces ghosting nostalgia "Mos' thought th' accen' w'z harsh 'nuff b'fore my jaw go' smash'."(nelly)
"Well ah'm a bit of a strange one," chuckling, "Bounced between Fenris and Eminent Strike," a shrug, "Ah guess ah got their tastes mottle up in me a bit," indeed to her James could very well be perfect articulation while the Blood Eagle her picture perfection of a man. Strange tastes indeed."Jaw smashed in this last one or another before that?"
(james)
"Each've'us has're own tas'e, seems. Nuth'n' wrong long'z y'r happy, yeh?"the fond smile is a little more than mere amusement
however that is a tightly kept secret James will not be so willing so share
Nelly is left to her own conclusions for whatever it may mean
perhaps it's a slight assertion of the beer's effects
if only she knew the one he thought of in reflection of her own private notions"Jaw go' smash' 'bout two year' 'go. Nah long af'r I ma'e Fos'rn back'n Jers'y. In th' middle've battle, w'z helpin' th's Fang gett'n outnumb'r'd by banes.... 'n she turn a me. Thrall'd. End up fightin her an' th' banes tha' we're goin' af'r th' both've us. Kill'd'r, th'n one've th' banes... w's tha' las' one a go' th' bett'r'a me. Wen' down, almos' dunn get back up. Y'r boy Barny'z one tha' put me back 'gether while Deck'r took care've tha' las' bane." calloused fingertips reach up, tracing along the left side of his jaw where the bones aren't quite as smooth as the right, strange formation climbing all the way to it's joint hidden by straying dreads "'cept this."
(nelly)
She suckled upon the tip of her thumb a moment as she listened. Nodding, "Right," Draining some of her beer. With almost a teen-age morbid facination of 'oh cool!' splashed across her face, a hand reached up as if to touch his jawline. She seemed to freeze all at once with some realization. A soft smile, apologetic in nature, splayed her lips as she shrank back to her previously claimed spot. The hand instead retook her beer, "E.B.? How long did ya know him before Chicago?"(james)
the Ahroun's eyes follow as she reaches towards his jawline
the touch allowed with some element of understanding
crooked grin warm enough to forgive her percieved offense"Think tha's neat, shou' see th' ones a my back." playful wink tossed out just before he attends his own beer "Knew'm since packin' up w'th Eagles back'n S'ptemb'r '02."
(nelly)
She straightened, "Don't tease a gal," chuckling with a turn to head for the pie. She gather two smaller plates down from the cabinets first, "And ya from New York orignally or..." slicing off two thick pie pieces to levey on the plates.(james)
"S'no tease." grinned easily "Rite a Woun'ing, got'm mark perm'nent 'long wi' my dee'name." then dreads flipflop in accordance with semi-loose nod "Alb'ny. Stay there'n'til 'round '01, hook up wi' Sep' a th' Green in NYC f'r year'n sum 'fore Jersey jus' 'fore packin' w'th Eagles."(nelly)
She nodded, bringing him a plate and moving to sit on a stool beside him with her own slice of pie."So ya knew the General for a while then? Blood Eagle I mean. There lot of Yanks from the Sept of the Green I've noticed. Big place?" taking a fork up to cut off a large piece of the blueberry desert.
(james)
James' primary answer is merely a nod
too enrapt in first mouthful of pie to handle verbal communique
there's that soft laughter again once he realizes himself"'Roun' three year', nah? Firs' Alpha I trus'd af'r I los' my pack'n Alb'ny. Firs' Get a treat me like more've'n equal, me'n th' res' would've follow'd Erik a hell'n back we trus'd him so deep. Learn'd lot from'im." a fond smile works to the surface before it's clouded by recent memory, another bite of pie serves well enough to wash it all away "Sep's'n Centr'l Par', one've th' bigg'r ones I been at."
(nelly)
She glanced at his profile as he spoke. A careful watch for the topic at hand. It only stirred her tastebuds all the more, yet she kept her curiosity from salivating more on the subject by shoving another piece of pie in her mouth.A silent moment before, "You jam on the drums don't ya?" looking at him as she chewed up some of the pie. A fingertip raising to wipe across her lips once and she stole another glace to him.
(james)
"S'how I use a keep mysel' fed."glance flickers to catch at least the latter fraction of her own
but James remains unaware of whatever study she may be pursuing
mostly distracted by the pie at hand, other concerns drowned in beer or resonating calm"Taught mysel' wh'n I w's a kid, playin' whatev'r I pull'd 'geth'r a whatev'r stree'corn'r tha' dunn already have a musi'shun. S'wha' branch in a learnin' a figh' wi' staff'n'stick. Playz part'n both my names a th' Nation."
(nelly)
"Hmmm..." a bare leg dangled from her perch and swayed gently back and forth. Brows furrowed with a deep ponderance. She was teetering on the edge of a decision, meanwhile her piece of pie was getting devoured.Then, as a hand wiped the back of her lips, "I've never been to New York. Chicago is the furtherest North ah've been," taking a long sip of beer, swallow, "Ya ever been down to Decker's original town?"
(james)
dreads shake along with his jaw tipping from side to side
concentrating on finishing his own slice
so whatever contemplation went on, he surely missed it"Pack made'ih down Sou' Car'lina, 'r so, one ti'e. Na'much time a sigh'see cuz we had a job a do. Nev'r made it far south'z Al'bama."
(nelly)
"Its not bad down there, not as ass backwards as folks lahk to say. Well, not all of it," chuckling softly, "Ya'll definately got some dynamics in ya pack. Its interesting to watch from a distance..." as if pondering outloud.(james)
this time, the laughter is nearly barked
torso twisting to look squarely at the pondering Walker"Dynamic dunn begin a d'scribe ih, Nelly." his head shakes, dreads dancing on shoulders - if the Galliard even knew the half of it, last smear of blueberry scraped from the plate with flat fork before that's transferred to smear across his tongue "In'eresting, huh? Go on...."
(nelly)
She chuckled, "Just interesting. I can only prick into ya'lls pack now and again. Each time comin up with somethin different way to look at it. Ah do worry bout Deck, but, ain't mah business to worry bout him. He's Fenrir, he'll survive," A beat, a breath, a swig of beer and she glanced to him, "So what ya'll need help on?" What was this, a ting of xenaphobia lifting per chance? Mabye, maybe. Though she knew she'd get smited for it, seeing him with those weary eyes tore at her heart a bit.(james)
"We woul'n' be Eagles'f nu'body worry 'bout us."the quip accompanies wry half-grin
forever crooked by the battlescar mangling his jawline
forever endeared by the boyish spark lurking beneath weary features
for the stories he's told so far tonight, surely James cannot be that old
no wonder it strikes Nellys heart to see him already so. damned. tired."Hel'f?" blinked in oblique glance "Might w'nna narrah tha' down jus' tad."
(nelly)
"Ya runin ragged. We've had to pull back for our own reasons but ah'd still like to do..something... for ya atleast if not for Gaia herself," chuckling softly. A shrug of one shoulder, "I've seen Elders run themselves into the ground. Just sayin, ya need me, call me. Even if its to pickup some groceries..."(james)
oh, once more from the Gnawer comes that soft, throaty chuckle
it's swallowed in last mouthful drained from beer bottle
but the venomous self-depreciation shows yet again in idle, afterthought grin
silence carries for several long breaths staggered by the steady beat of an Ahroun's heart"Nelly." soft, slow, perhaps the most visceral confession he's dared yet tonight "I've go' a kin who'z all bu' my li'l sis'r by blood goin' out've'r mine cuz've sum dem'n spir' who likes bleed'n'r burnin' chil'ren a death'f she dunn already rip'm outta th' womb. My broth'r's so worry 'bout th' kin he ain' much bett'r. My fam'ly'n NYC 'iz 'bout th' sa'e. My pack.... damn fam'ly I go' here'z been drug inna s'm'thin' gettin' worse ev'ry day. That I hate havin' drug'm into, but they came a my cry f'r help w'thou' ev'n secon' though. All cuz've a girl tha' ain' ev'n a their blood. Jus' mi'e. 'n nah?"
maybe the rumors are true
none but a wholly deranged Gnawer could last so long with a pack of Get
as once more, James allows the low, near-purring laughter to rumble free"Nah I can ev'n sleep f'r more'n hour a two cuz th' dem'n spir's waitin' in my dream'z'n chasin' me wh'n I'm 'wake.... cuz I guess she wan's a claim me, too. I would'n ev'n know wh't t' ask f'r, much less 'spect it possible a be done." the smile beneath weary eyes is so painfully kind "'pprecia'e ih, though."
(nelly)
She frowned, turning to look at him. Ok so bad choice of words. A shake of her head with a soft sigh. Her blues dropped to her hands, fingernails picking at one another, "Alright," a soft smile pressed her lips as she slipped off the stool and gathered her plate up.(james)
the rather clipped response draws his attention
small sound of frustration held behind closed lips
fingers raking through the haphazard mop of dreads"'m sorry." dark eyes following her puttering to clear away their plates "Yeh dunn d'serve that."
(nelly)
"Dont go apologizin', sugah, ain't nothin to be sorry for," a smile and she put the dishes in the sink. Her voice perked up, "Anyways, ya done me alot of honor in tellin what ya have. Ah ain't suppose to be pokin mah nose round..." winking with a drift back to the fridge for a beer.(james)
"Izzat so....." brow lifts towards ropey frame as subject once more subtly shifts, just what wasn't she supposed to be digging up? "Dunn think yeh ask me f'r nuthin' that'ain' s'ppose a be known. Rank'd firs've any askin' f'r sum. Though s'pect nun've tha' a cum up a th' nex' moot sa'e my own recen' tale."fingers unfurl before hand lifts in gesture, wiggling calloused digits invitingly
there's time for one more beer before heading back to the reality of their War"If... y'think it should."
(nelly)
She chuckled, shrugging a tanned bare shoulder, "We'll see then, eh?" bringing him another beer. She gave him a cheers with a tap from her own fresh bottle. Turning the tides to the more fruitless and entertaining topics in order to take some of the pressure off the Elder and just have a good round of beers without much care for anything else. Atleast for now...[faaaaade to black, james leaves after the last round]
Posted by james at 12:00 AMAugust 08, 2005.08.08.05. - impatient [imogen] *ul[forum]
(imogen)
"S'me," Imogen never uses her name in her voicemails, either because she's paranoid, or perhaps simply she trusts that her voice is recognized. The latter is certainly true. Surely James does not know many women with that particular rolling accent, the blurred vowels and clipped consonants, nor that particular voice, low and smokey, with a hint of song suppressed away. "Rohl wanted me t'look inta some things and that one o' yeh would get ahold of me." James is someone she's known for a while. He can hear the amusement touch her voice in the next phrase, "I got impatient."Anyway, I've some papers yeh can look at, plus a name that may interest yeh, and yeh still want it."
Click.
(james)
"I cou' har'ly 'magine yew, uv all people, gettin' impatien'."the returned message waiting in Dr. Slaughter's box does something of a one-up
it cuts out not only an identifying name, but customary salutation as well
in fact, a bit of softly chuffed laughter all that preceeds his remark entirely
perhaps it is because James undergoes the same trusting assumptions as the firey kinswoman
his Empire State accent may blend in with the variety of other American variations of the English language
however the slurred cadence, warm tone, and jovial familiarity likely make up for that
casual banter quickly shifting to a semi-recognizable form of business negotiation"I'll bring a six pack'f yeh pick me uh on y'r way by 'tween pages."
he doesn't specify that he expects the ride after her supposed "shift"
or even that he'll be waiting in any particular liquor store presumbly en route between her office and home
both James and Imogen know perfectly well there is no constant in either's own line of work
most especially in the realm of schedules or probable location at any time
merely convenience of circumstance that should be taken advantage of as quickly as possible
and that's what their cell phones are for"Lemme know what'cher in th'mood f'r."
click
(imogen)
They hold voicemail messages the way they hold a conversation, and neither seems to find anything odd about it at all. The return reply in this world of voicemail tag: "Surprise me. I'll be by this evenin'."[cont'd in chat scene]
Posted by james at 12:00 AMAugust 01, 2005.08.01.05. - crimescene vultures [eagles-fangs] *ul[forum]
(st)
Araceli Santiago was fifteen-years-old, born in Cancun, Mexico, she moved to Chicago ten years ago to live with family relations in the neighborhoods of the Carl Sandburg area. She loved the Occult, Death, and the Goth lifestyle. She practiced the Santeria. She was in-love with D’Angelo Muñoz Torres, Bone Gnawer kinfolk that ran a gang called the Los Lobos, out in Mt. Pleasant located in the upper northwest portion of Chicago’s South Side. Southside meets Skid Row, united in a strange love affair. They were like night and day. He was hip-hop, a gang-banger, and a drug-pusher. She was bats and belfries, an ecstasy-addict, and darkwave music.Araceli and D’Angelo had been together for a year now.
She was also five months pregnant with D’Angelo’s child.Araceli paced up Madison Avenue in the posh sector of Downtown, the click of her thick-soled platform boots resound in a heavy staccato over the pavement. She wore her favorite dress, a loose-fitted frock of black velvet with ruffled sleeves and a small hood with runic trim embroidery. She wore a dog choker with a vial pendant hanging from a key ring connected to the chain; a red liquid housed in the vial. Human blood, and coupled with a necklace of red rosary beads. The rosary beads were a gift from her priest and mentor, Father Throper, whom she was to meet at a locale in Downtown. For some reason, Father Throper had asked her to invite D’Angelo to the meet.
Araceli did as requested, begging her ‘Gnawer lover to come meet with Father Throper. It had taken two days of begging, pleading, and finally threatening, to get the skittish ‘Gnawer to do so. D’Angelo had been acting strange since the news headlines of the recent murders, even the explosions in the Southside and Riverfront were setting his gang on edge. Araceli chalked it up as nothing, too high on drugs to care. She was rolling tonight, a hand stroking over the velveteen roundness of her stomach. She spoke quietly to her unborn baby, so happy and so high; she was going to be a mother.
Two blocks west of Madison Plaza on the northern edge of the Chicago River. Madison Park was a small recreational park nestled amongst the tall skyscrapers of major corporations and high-rise condominiums. The park overlooks the water’s edge, offering a little bit of nature to citizens with a few acres dedicated to an exercise path, a docking ramp for boats, trees, and a playground for children. It even boasts a few sculptures for the art savvy. It is here that Araceli makes her final destination, slipping into the shadowy expanse of trees to walk along the riverfront, towards one of the boat docks. The thud of her boots resound a heavy toll across the wooden planks. She stops a foot from the edge, dropping down to fishnet-clad knees and waits. Father Throper never appears and she decides to begin without him.
Ten minutes of silent prayer, Araceli begins to preparations for her ritual. She pulls out a small plastic bag from her the confines of her small coffin purse, opening it up, and begins to take out its contents. With a stick of chalk, she draws an outline of a pentacle on the wooden planks, taking out six white tea lights and a lighter. She positions each candle on one point of the star, and the sixth in the center. She lights each one, chanting in a soft, melodious voice in Spanish. The thick coils of black hair spill forward to frame her white-painted face. Her brown eyes outlined in heavy black eyeliner for a dramatic effect, making her appear more dead than alive. “Querida Madre Condenada…“ black lips continue to murmur, “María de las lágrimas sangrientas…”
….Dear Unholy Mother… Mary of the Bloody Tears…
Araceli continues to chant, drawing out a small knife from her coffin purse; she clicks it open, gripping it in her right hand. She extends her left arm, shaking back the ruffled sleeve to expose an olive-skinned flesh. She focuses on her arm, bringing the blade to press it into the tender skin of her forearm, pressing hard as it draws a two inch cut down her arm. She can feel the sting of pain, erupting in a wash of pleasure throughout her body. Her nostrils flare, breathing heavily, her voice shuddering between words. “Maria Sangrienta...” her voice begins to lift higher, ”Maria Sangrienta...” blood drips on the center candle, mixing into the wax her arm held outward, “Maria Sangrienta!”
…Bloody Mary… Bloody Mary… Bloody Mary!
---------
D’Angelo was running out of time. He was late… supposed to meet up with his long-time girlfriend, Araceli, at the park. He blasted his way down Madison Avenue, driving the Ninja Kawasaki in and out of traffic. The lights of the riverfront catch through the dark tint of his helmet, the dark images of skyscrapers looming by as he speeds past Madison Plaza and the Montreuil Headquarters, on to Madison Park. The motorcycle roars loudly, downshifting into first gear as he rides it up onto the sidewalk, weaving his way through the concrete pathways toward the boat docking ramps. The faint glow of lights catch his attention, the image of a slim girl dressed in velvet softly illuminated by candlelight could only be his sweet Araceli.
D’Angelo stops the bike, shutting it off with a flick of a key; he sets it on the kickstand, pulling his helmet off. He starts to make his way towards Araceli, the helmet dangling by the chinstrap from his fingers. His footfalls become slower until he stops altogether. “Araceli, muñeca?” The tiny hairs rise up on the back of his neck, feeling the icy tickle of a chill rolling across his spine, underneath the hot layers of his clothing. Araceli does not answer him back, she is to quiet for his liking. The Latino ‘Gnawer quickly pads forward, breaking into a sprint to hit the docking ramp. He skids to her side, reaching out with one hand to grab at Araceli’s shoulder.
D’Angelo sees why she never answered him. There was nothing for Araceli to speak with, by the way blood coats her chin, running in a down her neck to stain her gown. She sits in her knelt position, head bowed forward and unmoving, somehow propped up. D’Angelo cries out, “Ah Mi Dios!” pulling his hand away from her, which causes the body to tip forward into the chalked outline of the pentacle. His eyes try to focus on the scene before him, nostrils flaring out as he breathes in the scent of her blood. Her blood… was everywhere, staining the wood, covering her clothes. He can see the way she died, eviscerated by something with sharp claws.
Then it begins… the loud, mournful wail of crying woman. What had Eddie the Cyclops told him? D’Angelo swears in Spanish, shoving himself up to his feet and starts to run. The river surrounding the dock explodes with the throbbing mass of writhing shadowy wisps, like smoky tentacles, spraying water all over the place, dousing out the tea light candles. The ‘Gnawer kin spares a backward glance over his shoulder, seeing the once beautiful, now mummified face of a woman leering at him, her gnarled fingers projected out like claws to lash out at him. He screams, without thinking, throwing the helmet at the apparition, breaking for his motorcycle.
D’Angelo manages to reach it, wasting no time to shove the key into the ignition and start the bike up. There is barely a second lapse of time as the kickstand thrown up and the throttled revved. Barely managing to see the apparition, he grits his teeth, leans forward on the motorcycle, releasing the throttle, and speeds away, La Llorona barreling down upon D’Angelo’s heels.
--------------
Two blocks down from the Madison Plaza building, the streetlights flicker off and on, sparking and sizzling as glass shatters, and the lights shut down two and three at a time. The street begins to lose electrical power, beginning to black out the entire area for a two-block radius from the river. The body of a young Latino man will be found floating in the river, after the lights come back on in a few hours.
Somewhere a man dressed in white watched the entire incident play out before his eyes. Deep shadows cast across the hawkish features of his face, a vicious smile dancing over the line of thin lips. The man will retreat to the safety of the darkness, exiting the park as quietly as he came. An unmarked car awaiting him at a side street, and watching over this man, is the skeletal visage of the mirror witch.
--
In Southside at the Heart-stone's Shelter for abused Women and Children, a nine-year-old girl screams in her bed, twisting and turning in the covers as the horrible visions of skeletal face plague her young mind. Black water flows like ink around Molly in the dreamscape of her mind, bodies floating, young mothers dying, and the touch of a Trueborn’s life stolen away. In the real world, she is screaming in a language not native to the Irish child, “Maria Sangrienta!” it is loud enough to jar a young Fianna Philodox from her rest as Wolf slept in the same room, two beds down from the girl.
In the Riverfront at an undisclosed location, the Eagles keep watch over the little Bone Gnawer kin named Andrea, those that stand watch and sleep, are awaken by the screams of her night terrors and her incoherent babbles in Spanish. “María de las lágrimas sangrientas…”
(kemp)
Kemp had been dozing, sitting against the wall with his head on his chest, super soaker laying cradled across his knees when the screaming started. Head jerking up so fast with the first scream, that the back of his head smacked against the wall with a dull thud."Where?! Where!?"
Jumping up to spin around the room with the gun aimed at the walls, floor, ceiling. Damn he hated Spanish, even if he couldn't understand most of what the girl was screaming, he got some idea and did the first thing to come to mind. Covering her mouth with one hand while kneeling on the bed to hold the girl and whisper against her ear.
"Shhhhh, don't call her. Shhhhh, no one is here. You're safe, go to sleep. Shhhhh, ain't gonna let nothing happen. Shhhhh."
Sending a message to those not there with him.
~Fuck me, something's happening somewhere. Girl just scared the piss out of me, screaming her head off in her sleep. Don't see nothing to scream about.~
And so Kemp continued to hold the girl, rocking her and crooning while watching the walls and ceiling warily.
(some fianna philodox)
Someone must have thrown the young fianna philodox out of bed, because she's out of it that quickly, although the sheets tangled around her hips and legs are a liability, and after gaining her feet she almost stumbles. "Molly! Where? Fu--" She barks her shin against one of the beds inbetween the fianna blooded things, but still, she reaches the little girl's bed quickly, sitting down heavily to shake her awake, "Molly, wake up, it's okay, there's no Maria whatever, you don't want to wake up Mr. Carlson, c'mon, I'm here, don't worry, I'll," etc. etc. and meanwhile, resonant over the link racoon provides packmates: Uh, something's happening. The monster probably can't come out of dreams though, right? Anything look weird to you guys? This place creeps the fuck out of me.(decker)
James, git down there 'n see fuck's up with tha girl.Imogen got tha results from the license plate today. Some ex-con on parole outta Miami, got clapped up fer child kidnappin'. Mario Vin Dahl. Ain't sure if he's on Bloody Mary's side 'r not. All we know, he might be gittin' framed fer tryin' ta help tha kids.
Gonna find him with a Questin' Stone 'n see what I kin find out.
(st)
For the Eagles, Andrea's screams subside as she's woken up by Kemp, his hand covering her mouth, the thirteen-year-old kin breaks down into tears... yet again. It's hard to keep count how many times she has done this, the emotional stress levels have been too much for her to handle. She hugs onto him, like he were a stuff animal, head tucked down against his chest, sniffling, "I want to go home... I want Mama Grace."
----------Monsters can walk through dreams... They can be as real as the dreamer allows them to be. Molly's eyes open, her cheeks wet with hot tears, little arms are thrown around Wolf, hugging onto her with all the strength a little nine-year-old girl can possess.
That sweet cherub face buries into the older girl's stomach, muffling her whimpers. "I saw it. I saw it, Thaney. We can't stay here.. we can't we can't. We must run. Must find Andrea and run... She's taken another one." A frantic tone in the voice of the little Fianna girl, whose blood was so rich and pure of her tribe's ancestory. Red curls were damp against her temples and cheeks from the sweat of her night terrors.
The two Fianna girls, kin and werewolf, can feel the tiny hairs begin to rise on the back of their necks. A chill begins to run down their spines like the tickling of icy fingers. There is a feeling of sorrow, of dread, in this room. The walls groan, the windows shudder, the knob on the bedroom door shakes as if someone was trying to turn a locked handle. And then... the door opens on its own with a loud, ominous creak.
(josie)
It happened in the Silver Fang area of downtown. Two blocks from Madison Plaza, and its inconceivable that the commotion wouldn't draw Josephina's attention. Even in her office, the reverberations, the sudden phone calls into the office as security notify of an 'incident' a few blocks away, and the scuttle of the few people in the streets below. The way their heads turn. The explosion of glass, the lights flickering seen from her high vantage point, before utter blackout. Then the skyrise's own electricity switching to emergency generators when that power surge attempts to cripple its mainlines.
[-- It would be a surprise, sometimes, to think she had it. So human is she. So immersed in that weaver world. So out of touch (so often) from the garou roots which carved and created her other monstrous side. A surprise for any flicker of primal instinct that would urge her that something was wrong. Out of place. (Dis)connected --]
Before checking that its even stabilised, she's moving towards the elevator and down it, striding briskly out into the street despite one protective guard chasing the blonde executive and warning her against an obvious, in his mind dangerous, intention. Stung slightly when his concern is sharply, so casually, dismissed. His authoritative tone (his area of expertise. his job) washing over her unheard.
[-- blur]
Then at some point, she simply begins to cease being noticed by many, except those that already had their eyes on her - a white-clad business woman half running in those stiletto heels towards the current maelstrom. And eventually, her form is disregarded by most. Then all.
Across the totemphone: Vast, Gabriel - I need you. Two blocks west of Madison Plaza. Meet me there. Something has happened we need to check out.
It doesn't take her long to arrive on the scene, past the blasted remnants of windows, past the chaos of people screaming terrorist attack - right into the heart itself: the origin of the explosion. The park.
The corpse. The blood. The pentacle. The candles. The foetus.
Pull back that body - and the eviscerating, recognisable, furrows.
-- Claws.It’s in a glance that its all taken in, the horror of the scene barely allowed to impact the clinical distance of her mind - not beyond the swift intake of breath, the initial slow to a standstill when she had first come across the body. Then gaze is sweeping back from their inspection, to the rise of the twisted sculpture representative of modern art, macabre backdrop of writhing shadows - moonlight dusted, a ghost - over the remnants of the ritual that had taken place.
The hail of sirens begins to encroach on the area, a couple of blocks away or less - and Josephina is stepping back from the body, moving around in an attempt to see anything that may give clue to what happened here, the lure of the river waters eventually dragging her eye. It takes a while to focus, another sweeping pass - before the body is made out where it has been dumped. Edging closer, she can see the markings on the body if not make them out - closer still, and the ragged and gaping wound on the back of the shirtless corpse meets her eye, exposed as it is from his facedown float.
It would not be until later as the body was dragged from the water by police and paramedics, the ragabash kept out of sight and out of the way through the aid of the night, blackout and the tricksy way of a gift (the distraction of the emergency services who swarm), that she would get a closer glimpse of the markings on his throat, pointed out by one of the officers - glyphs recognisable as garou.
Bone Gnawer.
Kinfolk.The fear that eats through those present is unmistakable - the police, the paramedics, those from the coroner's office - recoiling as they see the female corpse and the unborn that had been torn from her body. A scene unexpected after the report of an explosion. One cop stumbles away, sickened and shocked, the sound of his retching is eaten by the sirens, the shouts - the contents of his guts splattered onto the pavement.
The lines of the totemphone open once more.
Snapped: I need you both NOW.(gabriel)
The lines of the totemphone open once more.
Snapped: I need you both NOW.Through the flood of police lights that wash his noble features in stark red, deep blue and back again comes Gabriel. He is not concealing himself quite as his Alpha did, he took another route, one of gentle [--persuasion] to garner access to the crime scene. He stood however removed and to the sides, skimming the edges of the crime scene. Features laced with the tauntness of agitation, disgust.
For what he glimpsed.
For what he could smell.I am here, Cousin. What's going on?
(josie)Its the touch on his shoulder that would alert him to her presence, approaching as she does from behind and still heavily masked by the gift. Its the touch that allows only his eyes to be drawn to her as that gift remains, all other attention towards the scene in the park - they now standing at the periphery. Out of the way of emergency services, red and blue lights flicker fire across their faces.
Two murders, one a kin. Is the grim response over the totemphone, reflected in the tense lines on the face of the ragabash. Through the totemphone, she goes on to explain what she has seen, what has occurred - information quickly and efficiently disposed of, there for her packmates to assess and analyse as they will. In particular, Josephina watches her theurge - he and his knowledge of spiritual matters, rituals. She hopes he will provide some necessary insight on the carnage.
But while he takes it in and thinks himself, her mobile is withdrawn from her pocket, and a number she picked up long ago, dialled. Hopefully the Bone Gnawer elder has not changed his digits for the last year.
"James. This is Josephina." The voice is terse, brisk - the clipped English sounding anunciating each syllable like a bite, lowering only at the approach of any stranger. The chaos in the background can be heard - the ongoing wail of sirens. "You may wish to come downtown. Two bodies have been found in Madison Plaza park, one of them definitely a kin of your tribe."
Then to Decker, in case she gets the answering machine of James Branson's phone. A repeat of the same message, with the following added: "This may be related to your spirit but I don’t know the details so you might want to take a look yourself.” The Caern meeting amongst the alphas had hardly disclosed all Decker knew. The boy just did not speak enough to ever allow that possibility.
Directions given, and then that gaze has turned back to Gabriel. Quietly, "There were claw marks on her body. Hardly coincidence. A dead child--" and here her eyes flicker, distant, before she amends herself. "--foetus. If she was kin like the other..." The thought need not even be finished and instead she reiterates, "Blackout. An explosion, or at the force of one enough to smash windows in a one block radius, while leaving no crater when there should be one. Two dead, one kneeling at a ritual, the other in water. Think Decker’s spirit did this? Or could it be something else?"
The mobile is not completely discarded from her grip, thumb running over the keypad thoughtfully - wondering if she should tap into something else to attempt to get Gabriel legitimate access to the murder scene.
(decker)
Decker picks up, amazingly. It's hard to tell though. There's nothing from his end but the faint sound of breathing as he listens. And eventually, a grunt of acknowledgement before the line goes dead.James, try ta git ahold'a the woman's body when you git there. Deathdust it. Annemarie, you back 'im up.
(OK, I know there are conflicting orders going out at this point... just assume this is happening in pseudorealtime (yes, i know some threads continue and overlap) and whatever's posted latest on the forums is his latest comment on the whole situation *LOL* sorry guys.)
==
Vast: (on hold while i get some info from the ST)
(am)
Alright.She grabs the deathdust that had been given to her, meets up with James, and heads toward Downtown.
(jack)
Jack sits upright, throwing aside the pile of clothes that was blanketing him while he dozed in the back of his van. A hand comes up quickly to wipe the drool from his cheek as he pushes open the vans side door. Something in his packmates voice (thoughts), too close to fear for his liking. The teenager is in the street now, bare-chested as he stares at the Shelter with dark eyes.I don't know what ghosts are or aren't capable of, Princess. But I want you out of there, right now. Grab the girl and get your ass to the van NOW!
He wants to run in there, kick down the door and pull his packmate out bodily. Or at least be next to her. Her earlier message..."This place isn't good"...it rang in his ears (mind) now. Now there were ghosts, from the sound of things...
Inspiration strikes. Suddenly, Jack leaps back into his van, slamming the door shut. I'm coming in there Princess. At least, I'm gonna try like hell...
Then he's staring into the rearview mirror, fixed on the reflection of his own pupils...focusing...pushing. He can't kick down the door. Too many questions. But in the Umbra, there may be more options.
(vast)
Sevastian doesn't answer to the snapped demands. He doesn't answer to a tone like that, period, and nevermind if it came from his elder and alpha. Because point is, he was already there.He'd been there since a few moments after Josephina made it to the scene, staying back in the gawking crowds, staying astride his Hayabusa in case a fast escape was necessary. These things always drew watchers. The human species was a strange one, fascinated by its own demise.
When the youth's body is fished out of the river, though, Sevastian lowers the kickstand on his bike and swings off. He'd been toying with the idea of feigning recognition in order to get a closer look. The murdered pair were young, minorities, obviously urban kids. Not suburban, sheltered and privileged. The cops would want this mess off their hands, and they'd foist the duty of naming the dead off on anyone who came along. Especially someone who rode a fast bike, dressed a little urban, knew how to slum it.
But then D'Angelo gets fished out, and he doesn't even have to pretend to know them. He does know them. He's seen this one before, him and his green Kawasaki. Last Saturday he took second on the crosstown midnight race. Would've taken first, except first place was a much more devious motherfucker.
Vast starts pushing through the crowds, eyes fixed on the dead. Most fall back easily enough. He's strong; more important, he's Garou. The sheep draw back as though burnt. When he gets to the police line, there's resistance. But not for long.
"I think I know him. He's ... we rode together, a few times." He raises his eyes to the cop. Persuasion came easily to him. Lies, too. "Let me see him, please. If it's who I think, he was -- " a sudden twist of his features, a glance away, a crack in his voice, most convincing, " -- a good friend."
The police fall back. Sevastian stuffs his hands into his pockets as though wracked by the moment. Hangs back. Then seems to muster his will and steps up. One of the cops draws back the sheet over the face. Most onlookers turn away, sickened. Waterlogged bodies don't look good. They bloat. They turn colors. But Vast takes a good look, trying to gather as much information as possible in the brief glimpse he has. Then he lays a hand on D'Angelo's unmoving chest. Murmurs something, and it didn't really matter what. Moves the dead kin's hand over his chest, pats it once or twice, and then steps back.
"Yeah." The Fang mops a hand quickly over his face. "It's him. His name's D'Angelo... I'll see if I can find his family, have them call you."
No one notices the thin layer of dark ash now coating D'Angelo's waterlogged shirt.
The boy's name is D'Angelo. Bone Gnawer kin. He pushed a little, strictly low-level. I knew him better through his bike. He raced it all the time. Most likely the dead girl is his. Was. And that baby, too.
I just deathdusted him. Let's go Umbral and hear the story from the dead man's mouth.
(josie)Still standing aside from the scene, still cloaked in the blur of her gift making her unnnoticed except to the more perceptive eye, the urgency that had ridden her in demanding the presence of her packmates dissolves almost completely with their presence, fading instead to disquiet. Perhaps even a flicker of annoyance could be detected in the wry response to Sevastian's contribution.
Nice of you to finally join us. She can see him where she stands, had seen him as he approached - saying nothing to Gabriel and not needing to, both pairs of eyes drawn to the galliard who stood over one of the dead bodies. Deathdust, hmm? You surprise me, Vast. You don't seem the type to have a little bag of tricks.
She glances at Gabriel at this point, sharing a look that flickers with query. The look does not last long, however, as that gaze moves on to where the other body lies, police presence thicker there, enthralled by the macabre. Do you have any left? The woman's body is the one that interests me the most. Nothing like a ritual slaying to perk one's curiosity, and she had no doubt that if Vast had some - he'd think of some way to get close to the corpse.
(-- he had a certain way with women, after all.)
Whatever the answer, Virago is not waiting for Sevastian's response, already moving as she is to a nearby building out of sight so that no stray glances may catch Gabriel and herself when they suddenly disappear from realmside.
(vast)
Even across the milling crowds they can see Vast turn abruptly and unerringly toward where Josephina was -- albeit unseen. I was occupied, Rhya. And you don't seem to be complaining about the fruits, so don't complain about my fucking efforts.Moody tonight, isn't he. Rebellious little fucker, isn't he. But then she knew that of him. His attitude wasn't reserved for outsiders alone, after all. And while it was true that he served her loyally, would never speak against her publically, it's his opinion that he does so by choice. His choice. And hers. You reap what you sow.
And, Josephina. You of all people should know better than to underestimate another.
He turns toward the cluster of authorities around Araceli's body, a few blocks away. Even from here, he can see the trailing edge of the crowd that had gathered to gawk. Even bigger than the one around D'Angelo, never let it be said that gore doesn't sell. My my my, the sheep had a lot to gossip about tonight...
As you will. But this might be a little more difficult.
Same deal. Through a combination of subterfuge and persuasion (...with a capital P), he'll try to get the authorities to let him through to see the deceased.
(shann -- your call whether he makes it through again or not.)
(st)
The crowds are thick with gawkers. The police were doing their bests, albeit the gore of the young woman, to keep the people back. Vast manages to get close to D'Angelo to identify him, but it will prove very difficult to get to the body of Araceli.Two of the investigators on the scene were demanded that people stay away, not wanted to disturb the crime scene already. The Silver Fangs can hear snippets of conversations amongst the authorities, murmurs of a possible serial killer. This wasn't going to look good for the city, even worse. The News was going to have a field day with it.
(vast)
They aren't letting me within three arm's reaches of the body, Josephina. I can try to throw the dust as far as I can, but I doubt it'll work.Hanging back about one-deep in the milling, staring crowd, Sevastian keeps his hands in his pockets, the right one holding the last precious bag of death dust. He waits for his orders.
(josie)
Save it. Let me see if I can get in unnoticed. She returns back towards the crime scene, the mobile lifted to her ear as Evangeline's number is called. The conversation is fairly swift, the kin knowing well enough to comprehend the request immediately. Promising to do so immediately, the call is ended. For the duration, Josephina has moved towards Vast and taken the dust, a slight frown marring her brow at the concentration of bodies around that particular crime scene. It would be difficult to get through them, even unnoticed, what with the high possibility of bumping into someone and drawing their attention to herself.
Behind the cordoned off area, but before she is even within any workable range, she discovers that she's not even going to have to worry about someone inadvertently walking into her at all. Its like she steps over an invisible line, and heads nearby turn. To look directly at her. The gift? Disintegrates. For a second she feels like a performer thrust out unprepared and caught in the spotlight, the white suit drawing their eyes like a magnet. One of the policemen, given the duties to ensure the public do not step over their carefully erected boundaries, looks shocked for a moment upon suddenly noticing her, then calls out and approaches. Merde. "I'm sorry, ma'am, you simply cannot come through here." He stops just short of grabbing her arm and hauling her away - perhaps because her own feet have stilled at being noticed, those bright blue eyes swinging towards the cop.
A hand rakes through blonde hair, agitation and apology carving themselves into her features automatically - and not entirely an act given the failure of her cloaking. "I'm so sorry…" the accent is thicker on her tongue, the mouth fairly stammering her response, as she gives him a weak, distracted smile. All she manages to accomplish being a little out-of-character act for the later amusement of her packmates, before the cop is steering her away and back over the perimeter of the crime scene.
The dust is returned to Vast, the alpha giving her packmate a look of disquiet. My gift failed. Did you see all the people turn to look at me? Like something just abruptly ended its effect and I was wearing a bloody neon sign. A couple noticing, she may have acknowledge. But that many humans having high enough perception to simply just penetrate the gift was something she simply did not credit.
When her phone vibrates again, notification of Evangeline returning the call, its only to herald worse news. No luck with the superintendent either. This does not surprise her - given the public location and nature of the crime, the gruesome details, it was no surprise the police were keeping very tight on this one. Nothing like a little ritual disembowelment to spark media and community frenzy.
That course failing, a number is looked up and called: Imogen's.
"Dr. Slaughter?" There's a briskness to the recognisable British that comes across the line, nothing like the sardonic languor of that first call. In fact, the almost frigid polite, imbued naturally in the accent, and the sound of sirens and activity in the background, set it distinctly apart. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, but have you heard about the murders that have just occurred downtown? Will you be attending the scene as we were hoping to get access to one of the bodies - as soon as possible, if we can. We think it may be linked to the spirit problem."
Death dust, Virago would explain as well as answering any other questions Imogen may ask, and while it was preferred to be applied at the crime scene (one spirit already waiting umbral side for their arrival), it would be just a well if it could be done once the body reached the medical examiner's office. Either way, it was unlikely they'd be able to access the corpse without a scene or the Fianna kin's help.
(vast)
As Josephina is left stranded and Blur-less, Vast's response is, amazingly, not the laughter she might have expected. Gabriel, give her an out, quick. I can't do it. They've seen me before. They'll think we're up to something.And... well. They were up to something.
When Josephina comes toward him to return the Dust, Vast gives a quick shake of his head and turns away, starting back toward his bike without a look back. The corporate minx and the speed junkie? We don't belong together. You don't know me.
I was watching you. They didn't see through it; your gift simply vanished -- like ghosts disintegrating over a line of salt. I have no idea what it means. Gabe's the Theurge, not me. But I don't like it. Let's get out of here, Rhya. We'll meet Umbral and talk to D'Angelo's spirit.
(gabe)
Gabriel, had for a brief moment or two been suspended by the uncanny sense of time slowing down in tandem with his Alpha's sudden lack of invisibility to the naked [--veiled] eye. It was the sense of impending doom, or some sudden clawing of panic as she froze and Sevastian addressed him over the link because Gabriel, still contemplating on all the information given him had been side swiped by an overzealous Police Officer who seemed intent on driving the Theurge back from the Crime Scene.I cannot reach her, this buffoon is intent on keeping me my distance.
There is the sharp snap of French hued anger across the link before the dark eyed and anger-flushed theurge manages to rejoin his Alpha, his arm finding her elbow to gently lead her away from the scene. His murmuring in her ear for the most part ignored, perhaps he simply wished to seem reassuring to those curious still observing the woman in white who'd tried to slip into the crime area.
It's bad, that's what it means. Come, let us see what the Spirit has to say, perhaps he can shed us more light.
A muscle jumped in the young man's jaw, his tension rattling through his frame into his Elder's. Sevastian it seemed was not the only agitated this evening. Though the Healer's obvious uneasiness seemed all in lieu of the bodies being loaded onto trolleys behind the retreating Fangs.
(james)
((conflicting orders..... slightly overlapping threads..... PSEUDOrealtime?! *just laughing*))Kemp..... the hell she screaming? caught not -quite- in home range, James starts throwing questions across the Totem's Line, rearranging the foreign words into the closest approximation spur of the moment provides Sangria is a Spanish wine named for it's color - blood. Wanna take a guess at where Maria fits in?
just outside the warehouse homebase, the Gnawer's cell rings
newest attention task nearly taking the lanky raggedyman right off his feet
fumbling with the doorhandle while digging through his pockets for the phone?
not one of the Ahroun's highest skills short of shapeshifting another pair of hands
eventually cell worms up into dreadlocks and he catches the jist of Josephine's message"Thank' Jose'phine. Keep'n eye a where they take'm... I'll get there soon."
luckily, checking in with the ranking Modi saves him the trouble of coordinating his way inside
Kemp, just do what you can and watch your back, Ruhiger grab my pack an .....
the conclusion of whatever instructions were coming trails off as James spots a cab one block down
Cocoran soles beating hasty path as fingers hook between teeth to blast a whistle
meter clicked on and running as AnneMarie catches up for the ride
chaotic scene forces their drop-off a few blocks shy of intended location
but it's good enough for government work and they can hoof it up to the yellow tape
cell rummaging exchanged for burrowing through the pockets of his battered Alice packShe's down on the boatdock, can smell guttered candles, blood.... bile.... point of interest's too far down the planks to make out more than something drawn in chalk.....
running commentary drifts off as James catches bits and pieces of already churning rumormill
paramedics, polics, gawkers - all mumbling their own snippets in effort to form a whole story
(..... ripped right open ...... baby gone ...... throat torn out .... satanic ritual ......)
it's one particular factoid that almost has the Gnawer Elderman retching along with the rest
(.... another point for the home team, Jamey-boy, one more ugly memory brought to surface?....)
teeth audibly grit as the raggedyman struggles to focus on the task at hand
dark eyes following black-bagged forms atop gurneys wheeling towards official vehiclesHow's your Imogen impression? the question should seem odd enough to draw AnneMarie's gaze to his own, and as his lopsided grin does precisely nothing to clarify the question - the badge he produces from depths of Alice pack may pick up the slack Not for this county but hopefully you won't be inspected that closely. See if you can get close before they load'em into the vans, some last minute thing that warrants touching the body, just long enough to dust the female. We'll have to catch up at the morgue for questions if I can get hold of Doc Slaughter to sneak us in. Doubt we have enough time to do anything more here with the growing media circus......
before she can press for further details of his impromptu master plan, or hash out a Plan B
James is stepping off through the thickening crowd, once more digging for that pesky cell
quick-dial code pressed to ring the good Doctor's own wireless handset
request quietly made while dark eyes search out the statuesque Fang responsible for bringing them here
..... if nothing else, there's always redial to coordinate their efforts
(am)
His pack is grabbed, and AM is hoofing it out the door, then into a jog to catch the cab stopped by the Gnawer elderman. The pack handed back, she listens to the commentary, keeping silent (surprised? nah) as she watches the Adren's back, and follows him through the crowd.It's the question that snaps her head back towards his, pale gaze meeting umber as she arches that slim brow. Impresonate the Doctor? He can't be.... oh yes, He's serious.
This? Ought to be interesting.
She takes the badge, and holds it in her hand to be flashable yet hopefully not recognizable. The Deathdust is within easy reach, and with a straightening of her shoulders, a stiffening of her spine, she makes her way through the crowd and boldy to the tape and beyond. When approached, she flashes the ID, with confidence and quickness as she heads straight for the female's body. Her movement is purposeful, yet unhurried. She clearly has a job to do, and intends to do it.
Just because the police force has no idea what that job really entails? Technicalities. Her aim is to get close enough to dust - if she's not stopped beforehand.
Bold as brass, somedays, hm?
(josie)
Tall, white suit, blonde - the woman causes a ripple even in the most chaotic of situations. That she had been caught beyond the perimeter lines? Lets just say there are some eyes still following here as she walks across the street towards the harbour offered (lets go umbralside) by a nearby building. Its as she's striding across with Gabriel at her side that the familiar figure of the Bone Gnawer elder is seen. Instead of tracking her way towards him (just wouldn't do - she's taken Vast's advice to heart), the mobile is lifted to hear ear.
"James," the same brisk tones, the sound of movement, swallowed by the echo of background noise that he's hearing himself and now through the phone. "Walking over towards the Bank of America building across the street if you want to join us. We're going to step over. Vast got some dust on the kin's body - but not the woman. Be good if you could get through to her too."
(james)
brisk, concise, the Fang's salutation is nothing less than standard dressed up in a white suit
James' return Eagle style nod up fits equally well with his far more.... casual choice of style
however meaningless it may be while the two Garou are yet seperated by half a city street
it's the thought that surely counts, especially with a Tribe so uptight about protocol"Joze." truncated for the sake of clarity over cellular lines "Got R'higer workin' a dus' th' girl. Tha' fail, we c'n coun' on Im'gen a help us out a th' morgue."
their paths parallel for another handful of yards before the lanky guttermutt crosses to the other side
repeating the habitual chin-jerk-up greeting to the gathered Fang pack as a whole
the current rendevous point and tentative plan passed on to AnneMarie in a series of impressions
Gnawer Ahroun settles into wait and watch from a comfortable lean connecting shoulders with BofA wall
pack of smokes dug out and offered around after his own is lit
deep umber gaze settling on Josephine"What'cha fine ou' 'fore cops taped off th' scene?"
(josie)
She was still walking away, if slower, while on the phone - but a glance over her shoulder lets her see that nod, and acknowledge it with one of her own, the fleeting grim curve of a smile. Their eyes meet, if briefly, before she is turning away, still walking towards the cover of the bank.
"Not a lot. Not nearly enough." She explains in detail the state of the bodies, the presence of the pentacle, the foetus stolen - ripped out - from the woman and the bloody furrows of claws. She also mentions the 'explosion', the failure of lights reaching even the Montreuil offices. Nitty, gritty, detail as required, some of which he would have acquired by intently piercing through the melange of bodies now crawling on the scene. Any questions asked by James are replied to, drawing out any details she may have missed in the relay. Still, her initial response is proving more than true.
Virago finally finishes, "Hopefully we'll find out more from the kin's spirit. We're going to go umbral to meet it now. Join us when you can."
There's a slight pause in the conversation, translate that into a couple of steps further across the street, as she adds, "And I spoke to Dr Slaughter, so she should be aware of whats going on down here. But I'll let you handle it from now on."
Let you - it could be read as a concession made by the Fang, or a favour. But in fact, Josephina's intent is quite the opposite and her tone, if not her words, say as much: your kin, after all. And then in addition to that? The unspoken (in her mind, perhaps not needed) request that they also be given information regarding what the good doctor finds out. Its the busy CBD district after all - and that makes these murders very much on Fang turf.
When the gnawer elder has finished speaking, the mobile is pocketed and the cover of the bank is reached. Slipping into the darkness of the laneway next to it (made dark with the continued absence of power), Josephina exchanges a glance with Gabriel before murmuring, "Lets go." Step sideways.
Hopefully there will be two spirits there, waiting for them.
(imogen)
Imogen picks up her cell phone with a brisk "Slaughter," though there is an impatient tone in her voice. She listens in silence as Josephina speaks, and do not think she does not know immediately who is calling.A pause, and perhaps the fang's good ears can hear a pen scratching against paper, and were she talking to anyone who knew her well, they might catch a thread in her voice - as it is, Josephina can hear the cool detachment. Imogen might be responding to an invitation to tea with a woman that she has only a passing acquaintence, for all the urgency that enters her tone, "I can't join you, unfortunately, but I can meet you at th'morgue." There's a sense that she is perhaps not alone.
"If yeh give me what yeh need and wait where you'd expect it, I'll take care of the rest." There is no hesitation in this - though she is not offering exactly what Josephina was requesting, she gives her help, without question, and waits for a response before heading, presumably on her way.
((... apologies for belatedness.))
(st)
The Fangs and Jukebox were hoping for two spirits to be awaiting them on the other side. There isn't, just the frazzled image of a wraithly D'Angelo, looking just as he does when he died. A huge gaping hole in his chest that one can see through, where his heart should have been.--
Annemarie for all her boldness and bluster will not be able to reach the body of Araceli in time. The medics began packing it up a few minutes before she got there. She can see the black body bag being loaded up into the ambulance as she tries to make her way through the crowd of law enforcement. The silent Modi finds herself stopped by one of the officer, the wash of rage unnerves him and makes him edgy around her. She flashes the badge quickly, hoping it will get her through, but it doesn't.
The officer reaches out a hand to grab the Modi's arm, "I'm sorry, but you don't have clearance for this scene," he replies.
--
(Sincerest apologies for the latest of my responses. I'm ready to get on with this. I know the time-stream is alittle out of whacked, but we'll get it coordinated.)This post has been edited by Angel on Aug 8 2005, 12:26 PM
(am)
The man dares lay a hand on her, and the Modi doesn't say a word - though the heat of her glade is full force on him. The message is clear. Say what you need to - but don't touch.She turns easily enough, however, and tucks the badge away before it can be studied any closer. She moves quickly through the crowd, and over the Totemphone.
Already packed the girl up - was stopped and told I needed clearance, and moved away rather then risk questioning. Best chance at getting to that second body is through Imogen, it would seem.
(james)
It's allright. the Gnawer's voice returns steadily across the TotemPhone, any irritation or insult found at a mere cop daring to foil his packmate's agenda doesn't show through his mental tone, content in the knowledge AnneMarie gave it nothing but her best attempt I wasn't sure it would fly, anyway, but was worth a shot. Josephine was kind enough to give Imogen a heads up, so she's on stand-by, but anything else beyond that she'll let us handle. Oooooh. The Modi couldn't have missed the mental smirk associated with that remark. Could use your help Umbral-side, but I have a feeling you should follow that body and make sure it ends up at the morgue.Doc Slaughter can't do diddly if there's no body in her fridge
With the way things have been going, I wouldn't be surprised at anything, and we can't afford to have that body disappear before we can get to it. You can text Imogen to let her know you're coming. I'll follow once Fangs and I are finished with the boy's spirit.
James is markedly hesitant to split up Eagle's attending forces
but the reasons AnneMarie should keep tabs on the body continue adding up
he should be capable enough of curating the pack's interests with the male spirit by himself
no reason to double their efforts when it isn't absolutely necessary(gabriel)
The Fangs and the Gnawer were hoping for two Spirits, they get one instead.Gabriel wastes little time once they are across the Gauntlet, he does not shift from his Homid form, merely exchanges a glance with his Alpha, nods toward the Bone Gnawer Elder in greeting, in unspoken agreement, in indication that they should proceed. All these things accomplished with a tilt of his head?
Well, the dark eyed Theurge had never been one to be accused of running his mouth.
Aurelius begins to walk closer to the frazzled projection of one D'Angelo, flanked by his Pack and the Bone Gnawer.
(sevastian)
A little after the others have convened, Sevastian shows up, motorcycle helmet dangling from one gloved hand by the chinstrap. He casts the Bone Gnawer Elder a glance, neutral at best, then turns his attention on the ghost.What's he doing here? Come to give orders? It's pretty obvious he's not talking about poor dead D'Angelo. Don't let him forget. This is our turf. Our business. The fucking Eagles have their fingers in too many pies already.
Don't you hate it when the peasants think they're better than they are?
(am)
Alright.Simple as that, no questions asked. The tall Modi digs her phone from her pocket. She cannot speak into it, sure, but with the quickly advancing text messaging abilities, she can use one with relative ease. The number dialed, text message left.
"It's AM. I'm on my way, behind the bus."
Once at the street, she flags down a cab, pale gaze watching the Ambulance as it pulls away. The first cab stopped, she climbs into the back, and produces her whiteboard for the driver.
"Follow that bus." And should it be questioned, there is a glare that cannot be denied, and the addition. "That's my sister in there."
Then, her eyes on the vehicle that is carrying the female body, she settles back for the ride. Though likely, the driver has a sense that if he doesn't do as she asks, she'll likely explode through the seat and drive the cab herself. Quite possibly with HIS hands.
(josephine)
"He is here at my invitation, Vast." She answers the galliard aloud, calmly, that blue gaze sliding across to her packmate. There is a smile that hovers on her mouth - despite the grim circumstances; the spirit that awaits them; the chaos realmside; and the blood they had just left. Trust her to find something amusing. "And I am sure that Drums-on-Skulls-rhya is fully aware that this has occurred on our territory, and therefore there are certain proprietries which must be respected." That gaze slides across to the bone gnawer - smile still amiable, except for that sliver of steel that enters her eyes. She talks about him, looks at him, but it is to her packmate that she continues to speak. "Much like I am fully aware of the proprietries given that it is one of his own that has fallen." Yet the message is clearly for the adren.Read: cooperation. Full cooperation.
(-- call it a respectful request.)She is also fully aware of the weight the Eagles threw around and not particularly pleased with it. Beyond the fact that they were, beneath and above that surface: rabble. Immersed in the fact that they were the soldiers and hardly the generals. Again in the fact that they had a habit of dealing with everything themselves - feeding information to the rest of the Caern only when it suited them -- and often almost too late. Decker's little meeting was indicative of that. Their behaviour in the past was indicative of that.
Like fucking government departments, the way this damned sept worked together.
"Rhya, the kin is yours - perhaps you would like to do the questioning yourself. With the aid of our crescent moon, Gabriel, if necessary." Said like the bone gnawer never even knew the Silver Fang. So insular, the Eagles, that a part of her would be surprised if the gnawer elder did. But the smile lingers, that regal head inclines slightly, and she gestures for her packmate and the elder to go ahead, and Sevastian and herself to follow.
Not only regard for rank and kinship drives her concession to the gnawer, despite this being the Fang's domain. Practicality, also - because frankly the gnawer knows more than her. And unlike Vast's need to assert the pack's interest, Josephina could on occasion act for the greater good. How magnanimous of her, don't you think?
(st)
The frazzled spirit of D'Angelo watches the approaching group of Garou. It wasn't very aware of its surroundings, hovering their in the prenumbra.(james)
Gabriel's glancing nod receives its own acknowledgement from the Gnawer Elderman
Eagle pack's trademark nodup sufficing all it should, for now
proper salutations could wait until time was not so much at stake
which would explain the lack of any ceremony responding to Sevastian's own cursory gaze
though wouldn't place any bets James missed a syllable of ensuing reprimand(... it's the little things like this that make forced company bearable, eh, Jamey-boy?......)
"Dunn drop in a step'n toes." the concession is met with partial, ever-lopsided, grin - perhaps the Adren is familiar with the resident pack's concerns about his own, or he's simply well-versed in social graces as far as Silver Fangs must be concerned, overall "Gabe-r'el's prob'ly bett'r versed'n spiri' talkin' th'n I, by b'rth much less 'xperience, I've no probl'ms w'th him handlin' things 'long'z I c'n get th' ans'rs'm lookin' for. Know he'z blood, 'n I c'n be use' f'r sway.... but dunn plan a step in 'less I gotta."
chalk one up for the Eagle Public Relations team!
full cooperation and respectful acquiescence rolled up into one
the Fang pack would be hard pressed to find any insincerity in deep umber eyes
Gabriel's heading the session not only proves whether or not the pack's got what it takes
but sure as hell saves James the problem of translating his own version of English for spirit ears
invitation still accepted, however, as the raggedyman flanks pace with the Crescent Moon
though speaks to assure no set of ears feels left out of conferring address"'m mainly concern' wi' findin' out how he an' th' girl w'z kill. Descrip'sh'n a wha' did it'n how, ev'rything 'e c'n tell us 'bout th' girl, h'r ritual, 'r wh'tev'r she may've said'r who she w's with b'fore tha' links wi' t'night's events." this said, the Adren narrows full attention on the Theurge, weighting down the importance of his next words with the sheer gravity within earthen eyes - slivers of steel can be as nothing in the face of impending landslide "Dunn let'm say th' name've th' spiri' tha' screams'n bleedz, 'r repeat i'h if 'e duz. Go' tha'? Things'll get 'lot worse f'r all've us."
something about inferred finality just says the Ahroun knows what may come
warning doing it's part to act in mind of the greater good and, in a way, protect the Fangs
personal feelings, reputable insularity and class differences apparently set aside for the moment
slight nod up signaling the show's now in Gabriel's hopefully capable hands(gabriel)
If there were to be a public relations officer for the Silver Fang pack, it is possible that Monsieur Rouvier would fit this bill quite splendidly, for at least in public the Garou was capable of delivering a decidedly subtle and considering air--almost bashful but never quite so retrenched--in his manner there was a calmness, an elegance maintained in the clipped stride of his figure toward the Spirit floating so uncertain. And even when turned to listen to the Bone Gnawer Elder, there in the line of eye and lip, expression and countenance was a willingness to be enlightened perhaps not so visible in his Cousins.Gabriel was proud; this was a plain truth.
But it was his ability to discern detail and to pay heed to the smallest of things that more often than not made up for what most would call a Tribal fault.
So proud, so insular, these Kings of men(monster.)
So feeling not so unlike Atlas, the young man walks to D'Angelo and gives some slight incline of his upper body, almost a bow but not quite. And in a tongue foreign to all but the Elder beside him, the Theurge spoke the language of the Spirits.
"Greetings, will you consent to speak with me? I understand you were killed unjustly and I, as well as those with me," The Theurge's hand gestured behind him at the others, encompassing them briefly but keeping his attention solely on the Spirit of D'Angelo and his gaping wound. "We have come to find answers, to justify the taking of your life and that of the young woman with you. Will you help us to find our answers?"
Here Gabriel fell silent, and clasped his hands together before him. Almost supplication, but not quite. His expression was focused and did not waver from the ghostly form.
This post has been edited by Jacqui on Aug 14 2005, 01:08 AM
(st)
The frazzled apparition looks on at the gathering of werewolf spectaturs. His head owers, glancing down at the umbral ground of where his body once lay. He just keeps staring at it. "Si, Senor, I will answer what I can."
(gabriel)
A moment's silence that stretches. Gabriel's eyes do not shift from the Spirit, however when D'Angelo lowers his eyes to where his physical form once lay, the Theurge allows a sliver of relief to slacken his jaw. The dark eyed Silver Fang was cautious, as much still required a tentative approach.Merci, D'Angelo, can you tell me about what happened to you tonight? Why were you and the young lady in the Park?
It was best to begin simply, Gabriel had often found.
This post has been edited by Jacqui on Aug 15 2005, 23:09 PM
(vast)
Sevastian stays a distance away from D'Angelo's spirit, choosing instead to keep a wary eye on the weaverlings shuttling to and fro in the (not so distant) background. For now, anyway.
(st)
The spirit looks up again as he is addressed, the eyes become vacant and glassy, as he doesn't appear to be all their anymore. The seperation from his old life and into the afterlife, hitting him with shock. All the Garou were doing was delaying his passage into the next one."She, Araceli, my girlfriend, called me up to meet with her here at the park. She said something about wanting me to meet up with her priest. Not like I cared much for that shit she does, but the Priest requested that I come, especially since Araceli was pregnant. I guess he had concerns for her welfare or something."
A pause.
"So I come and I find her dead, flayed open like fish, my....my..." a shadow of anger casts over his transparent expressions, the spirit quaking with such fierce emotion it could almost rival a garou's rage in that one instant. It sets the hairs on the back of their necks to stand up slightly.
"Whatever IT was. Came outta the river and chased me down. I think it's the same thing that has chased after those three kids my Elderman was hunting for..." The spirit starts to calm down as he speaks, "Ol' Eddie the Cyclops warned me something would happen to my girl if I fucked up. I don't see how though, I did what he asked me to and I stayed out of it like he warned me to. I just don't know..."
D'Angelo looks over the Garou, when his glossy black eyes settle upon James, he turns away as if ashamed. "We's were gonna to have a baby, Araceli and me. I had plans to leave Chicago, head down south a bit to see my Theurge sista to see if... ah hell. Anything else, senor?"
This post has been edited by Angel on Aug 17 2005, 10:12 AM
(josephine)
The information is relayed to them over the totemphone by Gabriel, to better not disturb the spirit in its response. Josephina stands back with Sevastian, though the entirety of her attention remains on the hovering apparition and the words that are passed on by the theurge. Her mouth compresses ever so slightly at the mention of a priest, gaze flickering to Sevastian to see if he knows of what the spirit speaks, before those eyes are focusing back. With the mention of Ol' Eddie, that look just firms even more.
Ask about the priest and Ol' Eddie the Cyclops, Gabriel. I have no idea who either of them are.
Josephina is stepping forward slowly even as she speaks, careful not to disturb D'Angelo. A voice low, she murmurs to the Bone Gnawer elder, "Did you understand?" And if the answer is no, very quietly she passes on the mention of the priest and Ol' Eddie, giving him the oppportunity to narrow any questions, if he would.
(gabriel)
Gabriel's head canted to one side, his dark eyes taking a glazed sheen for the moment it took to recite across the totemlink all that had been said. The Bone Gnawer Elder would have understood the Speech of the Spirit, D'Angelo so the Silver Fang Healer did not pause to repeat his gained knowledge over again, merely exchanging a mildly questioning look with Jukebox before with his Alpha's urging, pressed forward with a growing sense of urgency--"Just two more questions, D'Angelo, please. The Priest you mentioned your sister met with, what was his name?"
Gabriel's hand rose in a brief motion to accompany his words.
"And if you could, tell me about this Eddie, what did he ask of you?"
(st)
D'Angelo's spirit wavers, looking away as if someone was calling his name, he seems to want to leave being drawn by something. The questions force his attention back upon the Garou. There is an impression of a head-shake."No." He murmurs, "She never say the Priest name to me. He known through out the barrio, respected and feared."
The spirit's head hangs once again, "Eddie was creepy. He was a BG kinfolk that live down on Whiskey Row in Southside. He had a thing for hookers, one in particular that was a Gee Dub, but she went missing a while back. We think he finally killed her, or pulled her over to the darkside. Who knows. He wasn't right. He gave me a package and told me to deliver it to Fox's Garage, and then warned me if I told anyone something would happen."
He looks up to Gabriel, then swings his gaze over to the pretty Blond, Josephina and then Vast, "I gave it to a Swedish Girl that rides fast bikes in the circuit, bra, she had the package. I think she delivered ain't sure. Not seen it since."
(gabriel)
Fox's Garage, is that not the Eagle Kin's business?Comes Gabriel's totemlinked thought, it is a quiet, almost rhetorical question that required no answer as he knew it to be true, or the very least knew it to be answered soon enough by the Eagle beside him, listening in.
The lean Fang then translated the sum of D'Angelo's response across the link to Josie and Vast, his tone leaving no doubt he felt this package to be the key to something pivotal.
"One last thing, Monsieur and then you may be at peace--the Swedish girl you mention, did you happen to get her name?"
This post has been edited by Jacqui on Aug 19 2005, 09:09 AM
(st)
"Nah, senor, I didn't." The spirit replies already starting to appear more transparent as they continued to speak. He looks away, behind him into the darkness of the Umbra as if someone was calling him. "Can I go now?"
(josephine)Again the information is relayed across the totemlink, and unless James has anything further to say, the alpha inclines her head slightly in agreement. Gabriel can let the spirit go.
"Let's get to the morgue." A questioning look tossed in James' direction as to whether word has been received from AnneMarie as to what is going on there. With or without, she has no doubt they need to make their way there now. When D'Angelo fades, as they even wander away from the spot where he had been, a question is asked out loud for the benefit of the Gnawer.
"Vast, you know of the girl?"
She glances at the youngest of her packmates, a platinum brow hooking up in expectant inquiry. Fast motorbikes the link through which he knew D'Angelo, so knowing this Swedish girl cannot be so difficult, surely. There cannot be many girls that ride with that group. And in regards to Fox's Auto - chances are the delivery was already there, in which case she has no doubt Drums-on-Skulls is already alerting the rest of the Eagles.
This post has been edited by Katya on Aug 20 2005, 18:58 PM(st)
Before anyone else, even Gabriel can ask the spirit of D'Angelo any further questions. His form vanishes in a small burst of light.(james)
the Gnawer Elderman remains quiet as the questioning begins
listening attentively for the sake of learning as much as gathering information
it isn't until the ghost vibrates with anger that James shows any fraction of emotion at all
senses heightening as the guardhairs prickle along the back of his neck
something else entirely causing him to glance away, swallowing hardmaybe witnessing another man's child-loss agony just seems impolite, to the guttermutt, irregardless of whether or not the man is still a living being..... or maybe it's something deeper that causes him to choose bearing witness to an alternate vision as the emotions rise to featured display
only when the glossy black eyes weigh upon him does the raggedyman look back
slow blink casting away whatever explanations may have risen from the depths of deep umber
acknowledgement of the once-kinsman's hopeful plan coming with slight, Eagle-patented, nod-up
(....... sometimes, bad things haPosted by james at 12:00 AM.08.01.05. - we are not alone [eagle pack] *ul[forum]
(st)
Some secret location. The warehouse in the riverfront that once served as the first pack house seems to be abuzz with activity. Any comings and goings in the prenumbra will result in some surprising spiritual houseguests.The rats are back.
A large brood swarms in and out and around the warehouse, keeping tabs on each member of the pack, especially the little kinfolk girl Andrea. There is a larger rat-gaffling, bigger than your average house cat that leads this particular batch of spirits.
It's easy identifiable by the newspaper boy's cap it wears on its head and the cigar stub it chomps on. If Hyde bothers to speak to the rats, this one in especially, it introduces itself as Mickey the Rat.
(decker)
It was hardly a secret to begin with. But that was never the point. The point was to keep bloody fuckin' mary and her pyrotechnics away from the real packhouses. And, one supposes, crazy rat bastards like these, too.Decker, entering via Umbra, barely restrains himself from tearing the cap off the gaffling and kicking it on the rump just to see how far the cigar flies. Projectile fuckin' motion, baby. He keeps himself tightly leashed to a silent baring at his teeth at it, though, then slides across the Gauntlet and throws his keys down on the pile of rugs that serves as a crashpad.
Then his wallet. Then his pack of cigarette papers. Then his baggie of pot.
And finally, he sits his ass down for his turn at the watch. Every time he came back here he got a little more disgruntled. A whole fuckin' pack, wheeling around one kin. It stuck in his craw. Hypocrisy aside.
Hyde, there's a fuckin' rat tha size of a lapdog smokin' a fuckin' cigar in th'Umbra. Next time ya swing 'round figger out wtf it wants.
(hyde)
Hyde stepped sideways and reverted to his breed form. Streching out his arms and legs he looked around. Little motes of electrisity playing along his steel gray fur. Blue fires burning behind those nordic ice eyes. Here in the umbra his elemental nature really came to the fore.Looking around he noticed all the rats and nodded. Approaching the one that apperently was working as a central or controll. Kneeling down he nods. Micky. That's cute. Using the speech of the spirits he asks some questions. He had his own ideas as to the answers but he could try.
"Micky.. a pleasure to meet you.... *Strange 3 clawd hand dipping into the Godi bag at his hip. Rummaging around and pulling out..............................
Cheese. he'd taken to carrying some with him since his fostern test. Unwrapping it he softly places it on the ground for the spirit. Every spirit was to be met with chimerage. Every one had it's place with Gaia...
A motion to the cheese and then to the spirit and it's brothern.
"Why are you and yours here Micky?"
(st)
Werewolves.... go figure. The next time Decker sleeps. He'll find his wallet missing and the rat-spirits have all seemed to taken to staying out of sight when that Fenrir is around.That rat in a cap is there still chomping a cigar stubb, bigger than a house cat. It gives Hyde a glance over, wary of the Godi, and not turning its back on Hyde.
The offer of cheese strikes its attention, it whistles for its broodmates which come scurry out of shadowy spots and attack the cheese, carrying it off again. They leave Decker's empty wallet in its place.
"We's tryin' ta help yous out. Beats-heads-on-Bongos, the big Kahuna of the Bee Gees an' yous guys did us a favor by gettin' rid of nuisance for us. We ain't gonna have ta worry about ol' Eddie anymore. So's like we's wanna help. Ol' Mama Rat wants us ta keep an eye on the goil, see. She's a bit concerned since thrice her kin have died cuz of ol' Bogeybitch." Mickey takes the cigar from its muzzle, pointing it at Hyde, "Beautiful job by tha way. Love what ya done so far. Seems yas alpha ain't like us 'round so we'll stay outta sight for now."
(hyde)
Hyde nodded and listened to the big rat. Ears flickering forward in a crinos 'smile' as it were at the information. He nods sagly and closes his eyes. Summoning a bit of his own spiritual essence he forms it into a little orb and offers it to the "head rat""Thank you for your assistance. It is appreciated in the nature it was given. We are all just very stressed about the girl and the deaths that have been occuring. Rat is a strong and honored totem of war and any assistance you give will be gratefully appreciated."
Softly he picks up the empty wallet. Nodding his thanks and steps back. Shifting down and across the gauntlet.
Finding Silence he tosses the empty wallet to him and runs a hand over his shaved head. Speaking via totem phone for all of the pack.
Rats are here to repay a preceived dept.. killing of the TRUCK MURDERER has put us in thier graces.. they also want to watch over the girl and don't like the Bogeybitch. Rat is the totem of the Gnawers and the totem is looking after it's own. Rat is a war totem too and has sharp teeth. We should honor their aid in the spirit ((little 's')) it's given and be greatful for their contribution.
As a side note... the spiny tailed wood rat likes to take things... you call them "pack rats" here in the States. Might want to mind your personal items till this is done.
A bit of a grin to Decker.
(st)
The big rat-gaffling gives Hyde the best thumbs up it can manage with claws before it scurries off into darkness of the warehouse. With the presence of this brood of rats, perhaps the Eagles will be able to have some free time to breathe.
(decker)
Huh. Go figure. Decker wasn't one to easily trust, and he has his misgivings about a bunch of rats suddenly showing up. But he did trust in the judgment of his own packmates.Glad I ain't kicked tha big one on the ass 'n sent 'im packin', then.
Decker seems to get a kick out of his little pun... though when the wallet comes back empty, he's a little less amused.
"Fuckers." It gets stuffed into his pocket. But at least this means he could stop sitting around watching a little brat sleep. Or cry. Or both.
'm goin ta find this van-drivin' fucker. He might be outta state, fuck knows. So James, stick close to tha warehouse while 'm gone, jus'in case yer rat buddies need help. Git some answers outta those gunmen with Kemp, too. Hyde 'n Annemarie, y'all're gonna hafta double up on turf patrols fer a while 'cause Kemp 'n James cain't run their full patrols.
'll be back soon.
(am)
She's in the office packhouse, having stopped by for a shower, a change of clothing, and a meal before she was headed out on patrols. A sandwich in hand, she's eating while reading through the book on Turtle care. In the center of the table - which she drug out of the kitchen to the sparring room where she spends most of her off time. Or where she did spend most of her off time. heh. heh. heh. - is the bowl with it's little half land half water type of enviornment set up in it. Inside is the new house watch d... Turtle! Sniper, the vicious full moon Snapping Turtle is handsized, and he bites, hard.She's gone shopping too. She'll get a new bigger tank set up soon, but for now, she's amused by feeding him bits of her sandwich and the red lettuce that the book said he'd love. He does. She's penned a neat sign set over the tank.
This is Sniper, AnneMarie's Snapper Turtle. He bites. Hard.
They've been warned. OOH! LOOK! They LOVE FISH! Baby sharks are fish, right? Things to think about. And needle Hyde with.
The Message comes about doubled partrols, and there's a nod. Then a mental No problem -OW! you little SHIT!- Decker. And she's sucking on the edge of her finger. Again. Smugly proud of the viciousness of the little beastie. Teach her not to pay attention while her hand's in the tank, hm? Wonder how long it'll take Decker to poke him...
(hyde)
Hyde comes though shortly after AM had left. Still taking the El to cross town and stuff. Entering into the pack house he looked around for his packmate. Sniffing the air and... finding a new scent.Eyes narrow and he crouches. Inching though the office pack house and peering around the door frame. There.. that was the source of the smell. Something. reptilian...
Drawing the thick bladed knife from beneigh his bracer he inches forward. More.. more.. seeing the bowl on the table. Finally getting up to it and blinking.
The hell?
He slips the knife away beneigh the bracer and leans down to look though the glass. A raise of his brows. Nordic ice eyes shifting and picking up the book. Flipping though it and then laying it back down.
Looking at the Turtle and then the sign. A raise of brow and he leans over the table peering down into the bowl.. It... looked like a rocky lil turtle.
It bites. Hard.
How hard did it bite? Like an angry cat or more like a badger...
Hyde looks around and back in the bowl... thinking.. then smiling. Hand goes to his hip where the "Godi bag" satchel always hangs. Opening it up he rummages around and pulls out a sim jim. Skins it and then cautiously inches it over the rim of the bowl and down into it.
Closer...
Closer.......
SNAPPPPPPP!!
*He jerks back and stumbels back about 3 steps and starts laughing.
"Fuck me SIDEWAYS..."
Inching back up he gives it another bite of simjim... yes... teaching it to like meat. The grins dropping the last bit in there.
Heh... Sniper.. heh.... I like it.. Where are you? Was gonna meet up for patrols. I'll tell you the legend of TURTLE... and why your pet personifies honor and glory.
(am)
He bite you? and of course it does.Was there any doubt that a Modi's pet would personify anything else? But it's said with amusement, and followed by directions. You just missed me. I'm a block to the east - Drew's coffee shop. I'll wait.
She gets a refill of her coffee-to-go while she watches for the Godi to appear.
(james)
Yeh, boss.as Hyde makes his way to meet the other resident Modi
James passes his packmate with a trademark nod up
entering the old warehouse for his sentinel shift on the herald of crinkling plastic
several "fun-sized" bags of assorted chips pulled out of BDU cargo pocket
one's dropped by Sniper's personal little world, though the Gnawer is smart enough not to test the warning
instead settling cross-legged just off the domestic island's stretch of grubby carpet
remaining baggies piled just off to his left in chiminage salutation thanking his Tribe's totem for lending their aidtwo short lengths - maybe a foot each - of pale stick-ish things are drawn from yet another pocket
errant light casting shadows on the symbols burned and sanded into the slender material
delicate tips clicking out an intricate rhythm on the cracked cement slab before his shins
the very first cadence the guttermutt learned back in his primary pack days in Albanyeven realm-side, the resident brood should recognize Rat's particular bone rhythm
James honoring the guard-brood as best he can with limited resources or experience
repeating the miniature jam session twice more as time slowly passes.... not much else he can do while waiting for the POW gunmen to reanimate enough braincells for questioning
[in progress]
Posted by james at 12:00 AM