[Annie Taylor] (Not it!)
[Annie Taylor] Annie’s in and out; it’s not consistent, the time she spends at the Brotherhood, and as such, her side of the room is kept impeccably neat, almost bare. Sometimes, there’s a shirt or pair of panties or bit of sculpture-work or finding out and about, but mostly? It’s a made bed. She tries not to be too disruptive, not to take up too much space, but she’s an Ahroun, and a young one at that. Everyone knows when she’s around, whether she’s being overtly obtrusive or not.
Now, though? Now, it’s too cold to be anywhere but in for the SoCal born and bred Gnawer. Even sitting inside and curled up on the couch (in a position that indicates she may jump up to somehow work off some energy at random, as she often does), she’s bundled in what may well be everything she owns. She doesn’t flip channels but stares avidly at the magazine in her lap – something to do with wrestling, judging by the pictures.
[Nate Cross] Nate’s probably a little messier, he’s a boy after all. But does at least try to keep his mess organised. It seems though that some nights the room is entirely vacant. Nate slipping next door to sleep on the floor surrounded by his pack mates. Just to be close and get to know them.
He heads out into the common room, for once he is absent his walkman and headphones. He finds a seat on the sectional sofa, but avoids sitting too close to Annie who seems to be distracted. He slumps into the seat and gives her a simple “Heya.”
[Annie Taylor] “Hey.” It’s cheerful enough, that; Annie usually is, and when she isn’t, she appears to know to avoid being around people as much as possible. It’s a good bit of knowledge to have, really. And now, her feet (which had been tucked under her) slip out to wedge in under him. The pair of socks he can see when she does so is thick and wool, though it’s been mended a couple times. “Fuck, it’s cold. Tell me again why people live this far north?”
[Nate Cross] He just laughs “Aww come on it’s not that cold. You do get used too it after awhile” he leans sideways as he lets her toys slip under him, not seeming to mind at all. “What are you reading?.. and hope I’m not interrupting by the way. Room was a bit quiet and fancied some company.” he arches his back and lets out a yawn “oh whoops.. sorry about that.”
[Annie Taylor] “It’s . . . ten. Twelve. Some ridiculously low number. It’s an inhospitable environment. And it gets up in the hundreds in the summer!” This vast differential boggles her, apparently – the look on her face, all wide eyes and disbelief, is almost comical. “I mean, the hundreds, I get. It wasn’t always that hot back home or anything, but it got there.” She shrugs, then offers her magazine – it’s old, and loved.
“I’m a wrestler. Or was, in school. Got this from one of my dads . . . a while ago.”
[Mary] Footsteps.
It’s no unusual sound, of course, as the Brotherhood is teeming with life at all hours of the day and night. People come in, people go out, they move about downstairs among the mundane, eating and drinking and carousing. They move about upstairs and laugh and joke and fight and mourn and sometimes all at once – it is a dorm for The Nation, after all. What else would one expect?
These footsteps come from upstairs though. The third floor, where Jenny and the others live, where there’s access to the roof. There’s with she came from – residence or the roof – though one would hope the former when she finally reaches the second floor, as she is hardly dressed for the weather outside.
She is, however, dressed for a formal occasion of some sort… well of a specific sort. Her dress is long, white white satin, fitting her torso like a second skin, then flaring about her hips to the floor in cascading fullness. It’s styled reminiscent of a wedding dress in the 1930s, and on Mary, it is in a word: breathtaking. She has a simple wrap about her shoulders in defference to the cold, though it is hardly enough to keep her warm. One hand is wrapped in the folds of her skirts, keeping it up off the ground in vain attempt to save the hem from dirt and dust. Dangling from her other fingers are her shoes – cute little sandals that are entirely impractical – especially as the straps are broken.
It is her hair though – long and blond and flowing in a heavy curtain to her waist, capturing the light in such a way that it fairly glows – that draws the eye. That, and the classically lovely lines of her expressive face…
She moves along the hallway, bare feet making little sound, and finally enters the common room with little fanfair – other than being who she is, dressed as she is, where no one expects her to be…
[Nate Cross] “Yeah I guess it is at that. I don’t know, I guess I’ve just built up a tolerance for it….don’t have a roof over your head for the night. You fight to stay warm.. guess I’m just stubborn that way.” as he chuckles softly. “Oh cool.. so like Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant.?
He turns and looks at her obviously interested in the topic. Not aware of the being that has made her way into the common room to join them.
[Annie Taylor] Annie just happens to be facing the right way to glimpse Mary (unknown, and so glisteningly lovely) out of the corner of her eyes – from there, it’s a given that she turns her head and stares in a completely unavoidable sort of way; breathtaking, yes. That’s a good word. Quite frankly, the girl of sea and sand, of skateparks and play yards, may never have seen anything quite like Mary off of the movie screen.
Her mouth hangs open a little, and she has to shake her head, concentrate, to speak.
“Um. No. Real wrestling. Sometimes some gladiator type stuff, but mostly just me, someone else, and a mat. Hi.”
Her eyes haven’t pulled away from the vision yet.
[Mary] There are people on the couch, and Annie stares, mouth hanging and tries to remember what she’s speaking of, and Mary smiles softly. There’s an edge of sadness along her smile, written within her gaze – a vulnerable ache that translates through voice as she moves farther into the room.
“Hello.” Her voice is soft, smooth, warm and welcoming – for all the sadness that weaves through it. It is a taste of home and hearth, of welcome and wealth, of love and loss – all within those two simple syllables…
[Nate Cross] Nate wonders who Annie just said hi too and he is faced with the vision of the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She is almost something out of the tales he had loved as a child, her almost ethereal qualities making her a sure contender for the role of Lady of the Lake.
“Hello .. there” he barely manages to stumble out “Can we help you…..are you looking for someone?” his eyes remain fixed on the figure before him.
[Annie Taylor] “You . . . um . . . that’s a really pretty dress,” the girl (she’s just seventeen … you know what I mean) stammers, stutters, and utterly fails at imagining herself in such a pretty thing. “You . . . look . . . really . . . tall?” Annie’s short. It stands to reason she’d notice that. And that’s following Nate, who at least tries to be helpful, and Annie blushes. “Yeah, if you need something, maybe we can help.”
[Mary] Nate asks if she’s looking for someone, and her eyes – lovely and luminous, a pale clear blue that speaks of oceans and sky, of a time long forgotten – glitter with un-shed tears.
“A…allen. I had hoped he’d come here…” So deep that sigh, unbearably heartbreaking. “Have you seen him?”
She smiles, a soft trembling at the edges brave sort of smile after Annie’s compliment. “Thank you…”
[Nate Cross] He frowns as he things, searching his memories ” Umm no unfortunately .. can’t say that I have. What was his last name.. I might be able to ask around on your behalf?”. Still transfixed by her dress… and then her eyes filled with tears draws him in even further.
“Was he your date?… it’s just.. that you look like you’ve come from a party.” thought the dress looks more like a wedding dress, that thought remains unspoken as he doesn’t want to upset her further.
[Annie Taylor] “I haven’t been here long,” Annie says, but a scowl comes to her face and she bounces up from her seat on the couch – her toes will be cold again momentarily, but maybe then she’ll return to her spot and leech some more of Nate’s warmth. “But I’ll help you find him, if you want. Where’d you see him last? What’s he look like? …..does this place even have parties as fancy as what you’re dressed for?”
The last is with a blink – it’s not criticism but curiosity. Annie simply doesn’t know.
“Anyway, I got Bobbi-Jo if you need a ride somewhere or something.”
[Mary] She sighs softly, deeply – her pain evident in the very manner in which she breathes. Her lips tremble, and she seems so lost, so broken, vulnerable and sad – it’s almost a physical ache to look on her.
“They have said this was a safe place for Garou and Kin… I had hoped he might come here when he did not return home last night.”
She moves forward, bare feet making no sound. “Thank you..” This, to Annie… “Perhaps after I sit a moment, if you could give me a ride home? Maybe he’s returned there…” So hopeful, though the tears still threaten to fall…
[Nate Cross] “Yes… take her home. You might feel better there.. and who knows you might be right and Allen has returned there now and is the one waiting for you.” he looks thoughtful, somewhat lost as what he could possibly do for this strange. “You know… we don’t even know your name… I’m Nate by the way.”
“Also you must be dreadfully cold in just that dress.. Would you like me to fetch you a jacket?”
[Mary] (Plenty of time to enter scene, Edwin! CC is combatty for a few in the other window. :) )
[Edwin Morr] ((Blur of the Milky Eye))
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)
[Edwin Morr] ((Sneaking in))
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Annie Taylor] “Yeah, go ahead and sit down while Nate finds a jacket or something. It’s fucking freezing out there. I’d . . . actually, here.” She takes off her vest to get at the sweatshirt (stained, but clean) underneath, which then gets removed and offered the stranger’s way. Underneath, she has a plain black tshirt, and jeans, and is very much a skinny, over-active teenager. “Maybe this’ll help a little.”
[Edwin Morr] ((Where’s everybody at?))
[Mary] (common room!)
[Mary] (around the couch)
[Mary] She moves to the couch, her steps light, nearly soundless on bare feet, her shoes dangling from her hand. They mention the chill, and her dress, and she smooths her fingers lovingly over the soft satin as she settles to sit on the edge of the couch, her ankles crossing demurely and tucked against the couch. She sits with perfect posture, this ethereal lady, and she lets her wrap slip so tht she can reach to take the offered sweatshirt. “Thank you. I am Mary. This…” and she touches her dress again, sighing deeply. “Was to be my wedding dress…”
And the tears thicken in her voice, swim in her eyes, threatening to fall… She pulls the sweatshirt over her head, slips her arms in, and then pulls her hair free to let it fall in a heavy curtain down her back to her hips again.
[Edwin Morr] A chill night with a harsh, biting wind… Enough to chill the bones and steal the breath of those caught out in it. With neither pomp, nor fanfare, or any other manner to identify his arrival, a man steps from the shadows… and into the common room. He was a forgettable man, average height and weight, with sharp but common features and a sly, lopsided liar’s grin hidden in the veil of shadow cast by a baseball cap pulled low…
His jacket is brown denim, a work coat easily found at any tractor supply store or other outdoor farm chain. His blue jeans were likewise of the sort easily purchased at any Wal-Mart or Target. A black tee shirt and button up flannel peek from the top of the jacket.
[Nate Cross] When she answers his question , a sad look creeps onto his face… was.. not is…”Nice to meet you Mary… I’m sorry that you didn’t get a chance to be wed. Awww don’t cry Mary.. we will find you your Allen, won’t we Annie?”
[Annie Taylor] “‘Course we will.” She slips back into her vest, and paces – she doesn’t like seeing people upset for this sort of thing (whatever ‘this’ may be). It’s ridiculous to go around hurting people you love – or even just like – when there are so many people or things to do that job for you. “Is he your brother, or . . .?”
Maybe he was the one she was supposed to marry, or something.
[Mary] They are so eager to help, and the relief and simple joy in finding kindred hearts is writ clear on her face. Edwin steps from the shadows, and she watches him a moment, her smile a tremulous, saddened thing…
Though when they ask if Allen is her brother, she laughs softly – and it is the sound of christmas bells on a clear morning, the scent of pastries in the oven, the warmth of hearth and home as it soothes over them all… Her shoulders straighten with pride, despite her obvious heartache. “Allen is my mate.” and then her shoulders fall again, under the weight of heartache. “But they told him a lie, a vicious lie before we made it much past the alter… it wasn’t true.. it wasn’t!”
[Nate Cross] He then goes quiet and frowns “Mary….you said something before… that has just sorta clicked for me. You said that you knew that this place was safe for Garou and Kin” her comment regarding her ‘mate’ only clinching it “You are part of the Nation ?… of what tribe do you belong? Perhaps we can contact them to see if they know where Allen is.”
“Hmmm Mary… what was this lie that they told him. Perhaps it will help.”
[Annie Taylor] Nate asks for information and Annie wants to act – but this is stilled, just a little, when she sees Edwin and a smile bursts out across her face. She was a pretty girl, once – not a knock out hottie fox, but pretty. It shows a bit, every now and then, in some of her expressions. “Hey, Edwin. This is Nate. And that’s Mary. We’re helping her find her mate.”
A font of information, is she.
[Edwin Morr] Edwin watches the group at the couch, unzipping his coat and slumping bonelessly in an empty chair nearby. He continues to grin lopsidedly, as a hand moves to pull a flask from the inner pocket of his coat.
Wordlessly, he unscrews the lid and appears to take a swig…
Then, as the flask is lowered, he nods to Nate and then tilts his head to stare at Mary with a curious sidelong gaze.
“Oh we are, are we? Well… Dat’s mighty big of us.”
Edwin’s grin widens, all but dripping trouble.
Nate’n I’ve already been intr’duced, doll… But Mary dere’s uh fresh face, as ’twere.”
[Mary] She twists her hands in her lap, where they rest against her broken shoes, her eyes dropping as she lowers her head, clearly distraught. But she answers the question easily enough, her voice soft and soothing, though with the feeling of tears in the back of her throat…
“We are Bone Gnawers, all of us. Allen is Alpha – Streets-of-Fire, Fostern Full moon.” There is such pride there, to be mated to such a man, a Garou, a hero of the nation… and then…
Her eyes lift to Nate, burning with the fire of conviction and anguish… “b…but they.. they told him I’d been with George, and I haven’t! i would never disgrace the pack like that, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t!”
[Nate Cross] “Bone Gnawers….. your one of Rat’s Brood… like us.. like Annie and me” indicating the young female near him “Those names..do not ring a bell unfortunately. But I’ll be sure to ask around… Annie any of those names ring a bell with you?”
“It’s okay.. we’ll sort it out. If Allen is an honorable man.. which I imagine he is having reached the rank of fostern. I’m sure he will listen to reason.”
It’s only at this moment that he realises there is another presence in the room. Turning to meet Edwin, who he only met in passing one time before “Oh hey.”
[Annie Taylor] “…..someone took the time to pay attention to who you’re bangin’?” This seems not very important to Annie, who . . . well, doesn’t bang, honestly. She hasn’t taken the time to do so in all the moving around she’s done. “Who cares? So long as you’re true once you’re mated and all, and even then it’s between you and your mate.”
She’s a modern girl, is Hard Knocks.
“Anyway, no, none of the names are familiar. But we can put word out on the chain.” The last as she moves to perch on the arm of Edwin’s chair, a ball of unspent energy. “But . . . if you got sent here as a safe place, does that mean your home ain’t? Safe, I mean.”
[Edwin Morr] Edwin shrugs, his shaded gaze turning to Annie as he takes another swig from the flask. Then, as he lowers the flask, he shrugs.
“Knowledge is power… An’ secrets’s mighty powerful thangs ta know.
Dependin’ on th’garou… Such secrets could git used ta bring uh feller down, weaken ‘im’s uh prelude ta sum’in’ bigger.”
Then, his eyes turn back to Mary.
“Ain’t none uh dem rings any bells fer me, neither… Where’re ya from, anywho? Not dis sept…”
((Is she telling the truth?
Perception + Empathy, diff = 6))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 2, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Mary] “Oh! OH!” There’s a joy that floods her, lighting her face as she looks between Nate and Annie, and then to Edwin. “And you? are you Gnawer as well?”
They don’t recognize the name, and she smiles, softly, sadly. “Allen is the most honorable garou I have ever known. He would die for this City, a thousand times over, all the pack would. They are The Chicago Times, which is something of a silly name, but that’s what happens when you let he Ragabash have his say…” She is from Chicago, but she does not dispute that she is not part of Maelstrom.
The Ragabash. George. She sighs deeply, and shakes her head, clearly worried. “He was angry, so angry when they told him this, that he raced out – I have not seen him since. He is not home. Home is safe, I only came here to see if he had stayed the night here where it is… warm…”
And nothing sets off any alarms as a lie…
[Nate Cross] “THe Chicago TImes” he mumbles to himself as if memorising it. “We’ll we could always check each of the rooms. But I think most of the beds are taken these days. So I’m sure we would have heard something if he had come here.”
He shrugs a little “I’m not sure what to say Mary. We can help you find him… but we’d need somewhere else to start.”
[Annie Taylor] “You check the rooms, people know you,” she says to Nate, all smirking and wry, and adjusts to sneak a hold of Edwin’s flask – just a taste! – before rising again, all but bouncing.
“And I’ll howl, see what we can drum up. And when I take you home, Mary, I’ll check out your place before you go in, if it’s alright with you?”
[Edwin Morr] Edwin just grins slyly as she asks if he’s a gnawer, content to let her believe whatever it was in her mind to believe about him.
“Whut’s Allen’n’ Georgie-boy look like…”
He’s just about to take another swig from the flask, when a hand snakes down to take it. He holds the flask for a moment, grinning at Annie.
“Easy, doll… Heady stuff in dere.”
Then, he turns back to Mary.
“An’ where might home be, e’sactly? Like Nate says, mighty hard ta fin’ uh feller if’n ya don’ know where ta start’r where ‘e’s headed.”
[Mary] A plan. They have a plan and she smiles softly, hope lighting in her eyes. “Oh thank you! If he’s not here, maybe his rage has cooled enough that he has returned home at last. It is good to know there is Family so willing to help.”
Edwin speaks next, and she watches as he hands the flask to Annie, and then tips her head, her hair sliding over her shoulder as she does so, only to be pushed absently back once more. “Archer Avenue – it’s off the loop near Chinatown…”
And then… “Allen is tall with dark hair. He’s strong and wise and so very handsome – the wedding announcement in the paper was beautiful! He looked so wonderful dressed up in his best suit! George is shorter, with lighter hair.”
[Nate Cross] Nate’s eyes just go wide at something Mary says “Chinatown….you ever been to a restaurant there called the Golden Emperor? It’s been there for ages it seems.”
He then goes silent waiting for an answer to his question.
[Annie Taylor] “I ain’t been there. ‘s it good?” That’s immediately before she takes her sip – more a healthy swig – and all but chokes on it. Her eyes water as she forces it down and hands the flask back to Edwin. “The fuck is that, jet fuel?” She coughs a little, clears her throat, and turns her attention back to the situation at hand.
“So Hottie McHotAhroun and his Ragabash friend are missing, and ya just wanna get married like ya were s’posed to. Where’s the rest of the pack?”
[Edwin Morr] At this, Edwin’s grin turns sly… His hair turning copper as he speaks.
“Uh weddin’ announcement… Well, dat makes thangs uh sight easier.
Whut paper’d it run in? Whut date?
Might make findin’ Allen uh fair piece easier.”
He grins up at Annie with dark tinged amusement, taking the flask in hand with a nod. Then, with a wink, he takes a long swig of the stuff… Barely making a face as he swallows… Before turning his attention back to Mary.
[Mary] She shakes her head slightly, with regret. “I do not know it. We don’t often have much money to spend out – but I’ll mention it to the others! Perhaps we can try it some time soon.”
For Annie, she answers her questions as she’s done all along, with honesty, forthrightness, her honesty clear in her gaze, her expression. She is guileless, she is an open book… she is so much more and so much less than she seems… “George is looking for him – the rest of the pack waits at home with the others…”
And then Edwin asks where to find the announcement. She smiles happily, for she still so much believes it’ll all work out for the best. It has too… “The Chicago Times, of course… where else would we run it?” Laughter, soft and free and musical. “They ran it on the fifth”
[Nate Cross] Nate nods to Annie “Yeah it’s good .. Lived off it for long enough and I’m still here.” and then he pauses “Oh don’t worry about that Mary, just tell them your family of the dish washer and they’ll give you a good feed. Same goes to you Annie, if you ever need a feed head down there and tell em the same thing.”
And then a frown as Mary doesn’t seem to give the full story “The Fifth of what ?… month.. year? ”
[Annie Taylor] “Show off,” she murmurs, giving him a playful punch in the shoulder. “And. Good questions. Or! If you have a picture of him, but I didn’t see a handbag or anything. Unless you have it upstairs?”
Annie doesn’t know, but she’s bouncing up again to play idly with one of the pool balls. Everything about her says do, do, do, and it’s not terribly quiet about it – perhpas it’s no wonder she’s been in and out, transient even since accepting the extra bed in Nate’s room, at least on occasion.
[Edwin Morr] Edwin grins as he’s punched in the shoulder, and just watches the reaction of Mary to Nate’s questioning.
The boneless pool of garou that is Edwin more reclines comfortably in the chair, watching and waiting… And drinking, by all appearances. The flask never seems to leave his hands.
[Mary] She seems to be flustered, a little, as her fingers wrap into the straps of her shoes… she tips her head, slightly… “M…maybe… maybe you could take me home now? To Archer Avenue?”
And she stands, gathering her skirt in one hand, the shoes dangling for the other, before she turns toward Nate, and finally, stammers hesitantly… “January…” she knows it’s January, right? It is! and then… “….1930.”
And then she simply… vanishes. Leaving nothing but Annie’s sweatshirt fluttering to the ground where the [real, very real she as wearing her sweatshirt, she felt her skin, she was real] tortured young woman was just moments before…
[Nate Cross] NAte just blinks.. rapidly “What the fuck just happened…… did she just say 19…30” he hesitantly moves forward to where Mary was standing as he inspects the flooring she was standing on
Now just silent as he tries to process what just happened.
[Edwin Morr] At this, Edwin just stares… before nodding at Nate.
“Yepper… Dat’s whut she said.”
Straightening from the boneless, slouched heap he had assumed upon entering the room, Edwin stretches, putting his flask back in his coat pocket. Shaded eyes turn to Annie as he speaks again.
“As uh side note… Mebbe we oughta fig’re out who’n’ whut happen’t ta Mary a’fore ya go takin’ ‘er ta Archer Road. Mebbe she’s uh ghost… mebbe she’s sum’in’ else.
Either way… Ya need more ta go on den whut she’s tol’ us ta be safe doin’t.”
And with that, Edwin starts towards the hallway where the various rooms could be entered… Disappearing as soon as he leaves their view.
Gone, utterly…
((Dex + Stealth + Fox, diff = 6))
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Edwin Morr] ((Sorry folks; I gotta go for tonight. Thanks for the rp.))
[Annie Taylor] “…..so, d’you have a library card, or whatever we need to use the computers here? ’cause 1930’s a long fuckin’ time ago. Ain’t gonna be papers from then lyin’ around, easy to get. And ain’t no message on the chain gonna help find a ghost.”
Her brow is furrowed, now, and she knocks a ball against the bumper a bit harder than is strictly necessary, skipping it up and over to thud on the floor and roll of somewhere else, from whence she retrieves it before gathering her sweatshirt (still warm from Mary, no doubt) and taking off her vest to replace it. And then . . .
“The fuck? Do ghosts always come outta nowhere here?”
[Nate Cross] “Don’t know.. never used a computer really.. and definitely not here. So I might leave that in your hands to find out.”
“Ghosts no idea… this is the first one I’ve ever come across. We might have to ask around.. you know maybe find a Theurge. But I guess we can always start small, I’m going to try and ask my kin whether they know of this pack. See if that turns up anything.”
[Annie Taylor] “Well, if it’s a pack from 1930,” Annie says pragmatically, “all anyone now is going to have heard is legends – shit they did a long time ago. But that might help, you never know! Anyway, I’ll see what I can find out first thing when the library opens.”
Because it’s late now – of course there’s no way to get in.
[Mary] [ok! if/when you too do the research, let me know. I’ll either tell you what you find, ask for a roll or two, or scene with ya to do the same. :) Thanks for letting me usurp your scene! :) ]
[Nate Cross] (( pfft anytime lessa.. thankyou so much…and CC thanks for the play. Looks like the BG’s are having some fun.. first Indira/Nate.. now Annie/Nate. *dances*))