[Moira Murray] The debriefing!
A week’s worth of information Moira has gathered, and she is currently blathering Kemp’s ear off and likely confusing the shit out him as she slightly rambles on and on and on….
“So. Here’s what I have gathered. There are three ghosts named Mary. The pretty Mary with the dancing shoes, the child Mary and Scary Mary. They are all Bone Gnawer kinfolk, bound to a Bone Gnawer pack called the Chicago Times. I spoke with a Bee Gee kinfolk named Crazy Ian who Tristan knew – and says hello – by the way. Ian tells me that the child Mary died three years before the two older Marys, she was hit by a car chasing a ball across the street. The pretty Mary got hit by a car after leaving a dance hall on her wedding day during the reception to chase after her Garou hubby, Allen, after some bitch told him that pretty Mary slept around on him which isn’t true.”
Takes a deep breath and continues! “The oldest is Scary Mary, a barren kinfolk, she was going to become a great Mama in the Bee Gee tribe, and adopted lots of kinfolk and took care of them. Kinda like how Tristan was a ‘mom’ to us and others, she cared for a lot of people. The two older Marys died three years after the child, within a few days of each other. Scary Mary died in a car fire. The Chicago Times pack followed the Chicago City Father as a totem, after the three Marys died. They threw themselves into their duties to fighting the black spirals and may have captured a wyrm tainted relic that could be buried in Resurrection Cemetery and in the burial plot of the three Marys.”
All this spoken on the trip over to the graveyard! Debriefing over with.
[Mei] (hey, guys, I’m going to do a quick change to see if I can fix something on the chat. it might break the message window, though, and I don’t want anyone to lose any posts. So gimme two minutes and hold posts, please!)
[Mei] (okay, we’re good! carry on.)
[Kemp Oates] “The Chicago Times?”
One dark brow lifted beneath the cover of the knit cap he wore.
“The Chicago Times? I ain’t never heard of ’em. Sounds like a news paper. Must of been part of the old Caern that use to be here?”
And all he could think was, no wonder they weren’t around anymore.
“Who says hello? Tristan or this Crazy Ian?”
Yep, she was confusing him alright.
“Wait, so there are three Mary’s? So which one did you see? Or did you see it?”
By now one finger was under the cap, scratching away.
“And what’s the relic have to do with a ghost running around?”
[Moira Murray] “The Chicago Times is an old Newspaper. I think it is called the Chicago Tribune now. The pack existed in the 1930s, way before you and I were ever born so it has to be with the old sept. Crazy Ian’s dead father was a galliard with the Sept of the Giving Tree, the one that got destroyed years ago.”
She grins at him, “Tristan says hello. And yes, three Marys. I have only met the pretty Mary. I have no idea what the relationship is between the three marys and the relic. They could be guarding it if its in their burial plot. This is why we’re investigating the cemetery to find out why.”
[Kemp Oates] “I didn’t bring a pick and shovel.”
He looked her over, leaning back some to look at her ass end.
“Did you?”
[Resurrection Mary] It’s shortly after five pm in Chicago, and people are getting off work, running home, traffic is bad, and everyone seems to be in a rush to finish up, get home get dinner, get in front of the TV for Friday Night’s Dollhouse episode. It happens, it is normal, it is natural, it is…
….about an hour before dark. Dusk is already settling in, and people who have visited the Cemetery throughout the day starting to leave. Graveyards are creepy in the night, and few, if any, would want to be here after dark. After all, the legend of Mary is well known, and who knows when she’ll show up to say hello?
The gates are open when they arrive – they will remain so until 8pm. Despite the gathering twilight, or perhaps because of it… they feel watched… and they are.
They talk along the way, the driver shaking his head, and just when he decides to say something a mere 100 yards from the gates, turns his head…. There’s a flash of white, of blond hair, dashing in front of the car and
BAM.
They hit something. And he screeches to a halt.
[Moira Murray] Moira was about to answer Kemp as he makes that strange gesture to try and see her ass. When the taxi suddenly jerks forward with the slamming of brakes. She goes forward in the seat, hands stretched out in front of her to grasp the headrest of the front seat and prevent her from going any further. She blinks.
“What the–”
[Kemp Oates] “Awfuckme, I hope that ain’t no dog ya hit.”
A human he could deal with, they mattered less to him than a dog most times. One hand had shot out to brace on the back of the seat with the sudden slam of brakes. The other arm shot out across Moira to keep her from flying forward.
He almost advised to back up and look, but that would mean running over whatever it was, again. Instead he looked out the back window and reached for the door handle.
“See anything?”
[Moira Murray] (DLP real quick)
[Moira Murray] Moira was about to answer Kemp as he makes that strange gesture to try and see her ass. When the taxi suddenly jerks forward with the slamming of brakes. She doesn’t go forward in the seat as Kemp’s arm shot out to keep her in place. She blinks, glancing around in confusion.
“Did we hit something?”
When the initial shock wears off, she reaches for the other door handle to open it and slide out along with the Rotagar to step out, glancing down at the cabbie. “You okay?”
[Kemp Oates] “Course he is, he was inside the car.”
It was almost as if he were going to say…duh. Instead he looked behind the cab, then in front of it to see what they hit.
[Resurrection Mary] The Cabbie cusses up a storm – it should make Kemp proud, truth be told. Then. “it was a little girl, can’t look, please tell me I didn’t hit a little girl…”
He won’t get out of the car.
Kemp and Moira, outside, will see nothing. No evidence of anything at all… but nearby – girlish laughter.
[Moira Murray] “He still could have hit his head or something.” She grouses at Kemp… and promptly shuts up at the sound of girlish laughter. She looks around, trying to see anything but doesn’t. No sign of dead girls.
“No, sir, you didn’t hit a girl… I don’t see one.” Looking up at Kemp again….
[Kemp Oates] He of course looked under the cab, then squinted towards the sound of laughter.
“I hate kids.”
Muttered under his breath before he lifted his voice.
“Ain’t nothing here man. No worries. Might want to get your eyes checked though.”
He was reaching towards his back pocket for his wallet to pay for the ride with a glance at the front of the cab for damage.
[Moira Murray] Moira calls a quick “Thank you!” to the cab driver before she shuts the back door, stepping away from it. She pulls the edges of her long coat more around herself, stepping away from the taxi and looking off towards the open gate of the cemetery.
Waiting on the rotagar.
[Resurrection Mary] There’s that laughter again… and a rush of chilled air – and a singsong little voice. “Little Mary went out to play… her new friends she’d like to stay…”
And then a glimpse of white, the sound of little feet running, and a brief glimpse of the youngest Mary as she taps on the Cemetery gates, then disappears from sight again.
[Kemp Oates] “Awfuckme.”
He hated kids when they were little shits and in his book, this kid was a little shit.
“Ya know, it occurs to me if you saw the pretty Mary, and this here sure ain’t her, then we could be dealing with all the damned Mary’s at once. And in my book, any Mary that ain’t moved on to the next life, is a damned Mary and a pain in my ass.”
He groused to Moira as he headed for the cemetary gates, calling out.
“Listen kid! Ya want to play hide and seek? Ya should do it where I ain’t gonna trip and fall over a fuckin tombstone cause I’m gonna be fuckin pissed if I break my fuckin neck!”
[Moira Murray] Moira bites down on her bottom lip, tucking it inward as she forces herself to not laugh. Kemp just reminded her of the old man that you see always yelling at kids to get off his lawn. The picture that paints in the back of her mind was rather… humorous.
He grouses at her and her eyebrows shoot up, looking innocent! “If a 13 year old dead girl can make you break your neck on a tombstone, Rotagar, I fear what that’ll do to your reputation.” She falls in beside him as they head for the gates.
[Kemp Oates] “Oh yeah? Well good thing ya weren’t around when the flabby tit old woman did this to me.”
He pulled the neck of his coat and shirt open, and displayed a scar that went all the way around the base of his neck. For one of them to scar, it had to be a killing blow.
“So don’t tell me some kid that wants her playmates to stay forever, ain’t out to kill my ass.”
He lifted his voice as they went in to the cemetary, calling out in a sing song voice himself.
“Come out, come out wherever you are. Little girls that run in front of cars get squished. Sound familiar?”
[Moira Murray] The display of the scar was enough to make her physically grimace. She looks away, drawing in a deep inhalation of cold air, her eyes scanning the cemetery for the little girl in white while Kemp bellows out in a singsong voice to try and annoy her.
“Mary Noruks?” She begins to unbutton her coat, reaching inside to the messenger bag that she wore under it, the long strap hugged a diagonal line across her torso, the bag resting against her hip. She pulls back the flap, searching through it for a flashlight as she looks around.
[Resurrection Mary] Resurrection Cemetery is not a small thing. At last count, it was home to more than 150,000 resting (or restless) souls… the thought causes the hair on the back of the neck to rise, the sensation of being watched to increase, and the idea that it might take a very long time to discover where the Mary’s are buried to occur…
The laughter sounds again, and there’s a glimpse of white in the distance. Dashing between stones… letting them see just enough of the little girl to remind Moira of the description given… “I squished a baby bumble bee.. won’t my momma be so proud of me….”
[Moira Murray] “I don’t have a map of the cemetery,” she begins to tell Kemp, “Finding the burial plots won’t be easy… but, the Galliard that told me the story about the Chicago Times pack says that the Marys might try to beckon you to follow them.”
Flashlight in hand, Moira tilts her head back to glance at the overcast of clouds. The sky was growing black, no moon. She hisses softly under her breath, “Great…” She spies the child dashing between the stones, starts to gravitate in that direction.
[Kemp Oates] “Five little monkeys jumping on a bed, one fell off and hit his head!”
He called back in the same sing song.
“Come on.”
Muttered to Moira as he held out a hand to her to lead her through the dark. For him, it was a lot easier to see.
“Ya know, we could be here forever.”
[Moira Murray] Moira takes his hand, closing her fingers tightly around his as she follows after him. She looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“We could… maybe we’ll walk into a trap and wind up falling through a gaping rabbit hole and fall through to China or something.”
She crinkles up her nose, “Good with nursery rhymes are you?”
[Resurrection Mary] They could be here forever – but the little Mary leads them ever onward, dancing and laughing, enjoying Kemp’s banter more than he likely thought possible. The stones steadily become older, the deeper they go.. Older, older, older still..
“Mama called the doctor and the doctor said…”
And a different voice… A Mama’s voice… “Hush, Mary. That’s quite enough.”
[Kemp Oates] “Garou history is generally passed from one to the other and on and on, kept by the talesingers through our history. I don’t need to know how to read to know nursery rhymes. Just something that stuck with me.”
He could feel the dark side of the moon above him as surely as he could feel Moira’s hand. He logically knew if he were on the far side of the moon right now, it would be full as a pumkin. All sorts of crazy shit went through his head as he followed the flickers of the ghost child.
“Ya know. I seen enough of her, know her name, I might be able to track her if we wanted to go that far. Know enough about her from you. With the last name of the other two, might even find their resting place. Might take a while.”
He called back.
“No more Monkeys jumping on the bed!”
And then he heard the other voice and whispered to Moira.
“Busted.”
[Moira Murray] She had forgotten about his ability to track things with just an item or a name. Moira’s other hand gripped the flashlight uselessly, it remained turned off as she had forgotten to use it when Kemp told her to take his hand and led her about in the dark through a cemetery.
Her breath comes out in a ragged draw of warm air to form a little cloud in front of her. She can hear the different voice, her head snapping around to try and find the horrific image that Lila had painted of Scary Mary.
“Mary Miskowski is the pretty Mary. Anna Maijia Mary Norkus is the child… and Mary Bregovy is the older one. The Gnawer Mama…”
[Kemp Oates] “Maijia? Heh, that is so close to another. I’m betting this one is the Gnawer Mama.”
He lifted his voice, calling out again.
“Ten little angels, dancing on a thread.”
[Resurrection Mary] You know what they say – often, if you speak their name, they will appear. And so does Mary Bregovy as they near a plot where three graves rest under the watching eyes of an crumbling Angel statue. She is sitting on the edge of the pedestal, and watching their approach. Little Mary dashes around behind the Angel to hide, her laughter free and happy, despite being chastised by her Mama.
She is not horrific – at least, not as much as Moira likely believed. This Mary is older, this mary has seen hardship, and her eyes are darker, her hair too, and her lips prone to smirk as easily as they smile. She gives the feeling of a Mama who would rule the roost, no talkback taken, no hesitation to discipline. She was destined to be a great Gnawer Mama… until her life was taken far too soon.
“Someone has done their research.” Her voice has an edge to it… though it is amused enough. For now.
[Kemp Oates] “Yeah, she’s smart that way. She’s the brains, I’m the entertainment.”
Three graves, made him wonder if somehow all three Mary’s had ended up as neighbors after death.
[Moira Murray] Her eyes widen at him, eyebrows lifting high on her forehead that they become hidden under black bangs. “I know! I know… it found that a little weird myself.” She whispers at him.
Moira jerks a bit, pulling on Kemp’s arm as she takes a step behind the tall Fenrir, much in the way the child ducks behind the crumbling angel statute. She sucks another breath of air, remembering how she told Lila she wasn’t afraid of Scary Mary, and yet here she was hiding behind the Garou.
“Mary Bregovy I presume, wife to Randolph – Tears-of-Gaia of the Chicago Times?”
[Kemp Oates] He still thought of a News Paper when Chicago Times was mentioned.
[Resurrection Mary] Her eyes – her eyes are her most striking feature. They are dark so dark, and deep in them there’s a sadness that can’t be erased, despite the little smirk that continues to play about thin lips. She seems amused at Moira’s hiding, and Kemp’s comment that he’s the entertainment.
“Yes. You have questions.” Simple, that – though not at all, really.
[Moira Murray] Moira swallows the lump forming in the back of her throat. She did have questions. Lots and lots of questions. She clears her throat, stuffing the flashlight back into the messenger bag at her hip to put it away.
“I have heard the story your mates… but what I don’t know is the story of the Three Marys, and why you all are still here? Are you charged with protecting something… a relic maybe that the pack of your mate might have hidden here? Or am I just wrong?”
[Kemp Oates] “What I want to know is, how come three Mary’s all ended up buried together in the same little area? Did they bury people by first names in the old days? Or are you all connected by the relic. Or was it some weird quirk of fate?”
[Resurrection Mary] The questions come fast and furious and there’s the sweet laughter of the child as she dances away behind them, weaving through the gravestones, playing much as one would expect of a carefree little girl- though she is anything but…
Mary chuckles, and looks off into the distance, and then back to Moira. “A lot of questions. First…” Her eyes rest on Kemp as she nods. “You’re young lady can tell you the story of the Mary’s three, and how we come to be buried in the same plot. We were mates and children to the Garou of the Chicago Times. It was simply happenstance that our names were the same – a twist of fate, an amusing tale for the Ragabash to joke about.” She looks to Moira and arches a brow. “Surely you’ve heard – to become part of the pack, find a Marry a Mary for she’s good on her back…?”
The mention protecting something, a relic.. perhaps, that they may have hidden.
“You are not wrong.”
[Resurrection Mary] (You’re Your)
[Resurrection Mary] (Wow- “Find a Mary to Marry, for she’s goodon her back…” )
[Moira Murray] “Lila is the galliard that told me the story of the Chicago Times pack, how they retrieved a wyrm tainted relic, maybe it is a fetish or something.” Moira murmurs to Kemp.
She comes out of hiding, standing next to the Rotager as she regards the dark haired apparition of the Gnawer Mama. “Why, after your deaths, would they charge you with the protection of such an item?”
[Kemp Oates] “One of your Mary’s had a name in her long name that included the name of one of our warriors who not so long ago died in battle.”
Moira asked her question and he murmured with a polite little archaic-type bow.
“Before I say more, we should introduce ourselves, though I figure a ghost likely talks to other spirits and very likely already know who they are talking with. I am Kemp Oates, known as Truth in Frenzy to the Nation. Fenrir by birth. Adren in rank. And it is my birth moon that looks down on us tonight.”
He gestured to Moira, urging her to introduce herself. Formalities were important to Garou.
[Moira Murray] So eager to find answers she hadn’t considered introductions. Moira looks at Kemp when he gestures for her to do the same. She blinks, glancing back at Mary and nods to her. “Moira Murray, kinfolk to the Get of Fenris.”
[Resurrection Mary] A brow arches slightly, and she nods. “Fenrir. I thought I saw the mark of them on the pair of you. The Boys would be shocked to see it is not Bone Gnawers who have come to help, though we had little choice in the matter.”
She looks over her shoulder at the playing 12 year old, and then back to Kemp. “I believe it to be a coincidence, tough your Maija died well and was escorted to the the Homeland to await rebirth. As Bone Gnawers, we honor her memory, and those of us of the tribe here, escorted her with the respect she was due. She will return to fight again.” She bows her head, slightly, respect for the Adren, for his friend, and for his young lady standing by his side.
“As for the why – who else would you trust but those who loved you well? It was not to be long, they were to return within days to destroy the relic.” And here, unbearable sadness… “They never arrived.”
[Kemp Oates] “Unfortunately, as with your own accidents, death has a wonderful way of fuckin up lives and plans. I am sure if they could have, they would have returned, but fate stepped in. And you have had to bear the burden all these years. Though to me it looks like done a good job.”
[Moira Murray] Moira clears her throat, looking up at Kemp and then back to Mary. “If it is any consolation, Mama Bregovy. We – “gesturing to Kemp and herself, “Were raised by a Gnawer kinfolk named Tristan Stern, he’s has the potential to be a Mama himself, if it weren’t for… well you know, being a guy.”
She shuffles her stance, tilting her head to the side, “There was a Gnawer kinfolk named Ian Henderson, he was a report for the local newspaper back in the day, he sings about the tale of the Marys, it was him I learned of your real story.”
[Moira Murray] (*reporter)
[Resurrection Mary] She chuckles, softly. “A male Mama. Strange.”
Her gaze lifts, and in the distance, the shadowy form of the pretty Mary can be seen wandering. Mary B, who’s eyes shine briefly as she is called Mama, returns her attention to Moira and Kemp.
“We were to watch, to guard. We did so quietly for many years – but I believe…” a pause, and a distant look. “I believe the place where it is hidden has become compromised. They come for it, Ms. Murray, Truth in Frenzy. Soon.”
[Kemp Oates] “Tristan makes a good mom, he can’t help it he was born with the wrong parts. As for the relic, sound like we gotta move it to a safer place or make sure they just never reach it.”
He didn’t even question who they were. Just as he wasn’t mentioning previous encounters with ghosts named Mary. Or ghosts of any names. If he counted these three, and one was from before, then he’d have dealings with five ghosts now. Who’d thunk?
[Moira Murray] “Mama Bregovy…” Moira steps away from Kemp, closer to the spirit of the dead Gnawer kin. “Would you entrust us to help you – to bring some kind of resolution to you and the other Marys. I’m sure Kemp will help and I know another Garou that would…”
She glances back at Kemp, biting her bottom lip, not wanting to force something on him that she only assumes he’ll do out of a sense of duty. He was the higher ranked Garou here… She was just a kinfolk. “I promise to do what I can to help if you trust me.”
[Kemp Oates] “What I want to know is this. Do ya know what the relic is, and what do you in your opinion, believe should be done with it?”
Yes, he was asking a Kin Ghost for her opinion.
“You have guarded it all these years, you would have the most knowledge of it.”
[Resurrection Mary] She arches a brow, and then is distracted as young Mary reappears, and settles to sit on the ground at her feet, her head tucked against Mama Mary’s thigh. She drops her hand to let it trail through the younger girls blond hair, smoothing it down, as loving a touch as any child could hope for.
Then, she looks up to meet Kemp’s gaze. “It needs to be destroyed. I do not know exactly what it is – only that it is wrong. Wrong enough that while they wished to hide it here with us, they would not risk desecrating our resting place, even for the few days that they were supposed to be gone.”
She smiles at Moira. “We had hoped for your help – it is why we sent Mary to find you all…”
[Moira Murray] Moira nods her head, she falls quiet, looking up to Kemp for an answer on what to do next.
[Kemp Oates] He didn’t know much about destroying relics and if it couldn’t be smashed or crushed, then that meant a Theurge and the only one he really knew anymore had just died.
“Well fuckme, this could be a problem. Might have to call in a Theurge.”
[Resurrection Mary] She nods, slightly. “You may need more than that. When you are ready, I will lead you to it. I do not disrespect you’re prowess – but you will need help. They come.” A pause, as she looks up, and pretty Mary joins them. She reaches for her friend, fingers touching, then down at the child, before she meets Moira and Kemp’s gaze for a long moment.
“They come soon.”
…And all three fade from view….
[Moira Murray] “Couldn’t we call Joss and ask her to do it?” Moira doesn’t know what has transpired in the past twenty-four hours, she doesn’t go to any of the Eagle’s pack houses. She avoids them to avoid Andrew.
[Kemp Oates] He watched the ghosts fade from sight, and cursed.
“Awfuckme.”
He knew the pain in the ass it was to try and get this Sept to do anything together. It was like scheduling a launch into space. Slowly he turned his head to look down at Moira.
“Joss is dead. She and Curata died lastnight. The Eagles are two less now.”
With that he held out his hand.
“Come on, we got to get out of here and deal with trying to get this Sept to put forth enough at one time to deal with this.”
[Moira Murray] Color drains from Moira’s face, despite the cold air nipping at her nose and cheeks. She looks paler than usual, like she’d perhaps just seen a ghost and was actually frightened of it. She doesn’t say a word to the news. Her head drops down, eyes cast to the grass beneath her feet.
She nods her head, quietly accepting whatever he says. She squeezes his hand and waits for him to lead her out of the cemetery.
[Kemp Oates] He could feel the hurt in her and fuck if he didn’t wish he could make it go away. Himself, he had seen so many die, it just gnawed away another chunk of his desire to give a shit and keep going.
So quietly he turned to face Moira, and just as quietly pulled her into his embrace where he just held her in the freezing cold, in the dark, in the middle of a cemetary on a Friday night.
[Resurrection Mary] [And I’m clear – the rest is up to you. :) Ball’s in your court…]
[Kemp Oates] ((Thank you, though I have a few questions. Aren’t others doing this tomorrow or something?))
to Moira Murray, Resurrection Mary
[Resurrection Mary] ((Yes, they are. They don’t have as much background as Moira did, so it will e a bit of rehash for me on the info gathering. The Unbroken is supposed to come and do this. Mary will make sure they know that Kemp is focusing the efforts, and to get with you two. Other than planning, and tomorrows scene wherethey’ll discover the same things you guys have (more or less. probably less.) then we’re moving toward the finale next.))
to Kemp Oates, Moira Murray
[Moira Murray] She can barely remember the last time he’s done this. There was nothing that will take the pain away, the loss of a prospective family member, of a possible mentor…. Moira’s resolve has been slowly worn thin over the last few months as she’s tried to help others and set her own feelings aside.
There is only so much one can handle. The news is rather jarring. She tries hard not to cry, barely manages to contain the small whimper in her throat as she hugs on to Kemp rather tightly, her face buried into his jacket and shakes.
[Kemp Oates] ((Ok, so in the middle of more burials, I need to post to gather together at least a few warriors and a theurge or two.))
to Moira Murray, Resurrection Mary
[Resurrection Mary] (Pretty much. :) )
to Kemp Oates, Moira Murray
[Moira Murray] (Lotta work to be done)
to Kemp Oates, Resurrection Mary
[Kemp Oates] “Ya know?”
He bent his head down to rest his chin on the top of her head, speaking in a soft rumble that vibrated through his chest.
“It’s ok to cry. Ain’t no one here gonna say anything if ya do. Thousands and thousands have cried in this place for lost ones.”
[Moira Murray] “You will…” she mumbles against his chest, nuzzling her cheek against the material of his jacket. The weight of his arms around her, the feel of his closeness caused her heart to skip a beat, her breathing to change a little as she tries to remain calm.
Giving her the permission to just cry was like opening up a set of flood gates. He can feel Moira tense up as she shakes uncontrollably. Head bowed so he can’t see her face when she actually does start to cry for the loss of the Godi.
“I really liked her… Joss was weird, but I really, really liked her, Kemp.”
[Kemp Oates] “Joss was a good person. Smart too. I don’t think she would be ashamed over tears at her passing. She might feel honored someone loved her.”
His hands slowly moved up and down her back as he held her as she cried.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with grief Moira.”
[Moira Murray] She was starting to lose the pieces of her family again, both paternal and pack. His words fill her ears as the Rotagar comforts her. It only makes crying kin cling on to him more, afraid that he might vanish just like the three spirits did, like Joss. The prospect of his death weighs on her mind, afraid to vocalize her concern. It might be Moira’s undoing some day.
She sucks several gulps of air, hiccuping between sobs as the whimpering noises are muffled against his chest. She finally tilts her head up, trying to look at him with big, teary eyes and just blinks at him in surprise.
“Joss is very much loved. I will have to send word back home to her parents, I’m sure they will want to know… send her things home to them, maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want to go back to that pack house ever again. The Eagles are nothing without Decker and who the hell knows if he’s ever coming back.”
[Kemp Oates] “Oh I am sure he will come back whenever he feels the urge. Though I gotta say, I can’t much blame ya for not going there.”
He slowly rubbed her back through her coat as he spoke softly in the dark.
“You send word to Joss’ family and I’m sure the Sept will send word to the other part of her family. Ya don’t want to go back to the Packhouse, ain’t nothing forcing ya to. Ya got a problem, ya have my number. Though ya have a much nicer place to stay, so ain’t gonna offer what I got.”
[Moira Murray] “It seems like just a month ago we were having a conversation in Chinatown about something like this happening…”
Moira shakes her head, she tucks on the back of his coat, sniffling. Furrowing her eyebrows as she scowls at herself for appearing weak. “I have your number and I’ll send word…” she repeats his words, as if it is helping her to calm down.
She looks up at him, “Promise me… if you need me for anything… healing, information… I don’t care what, promise me you’ll come to me. I ain’t got much left to hold on to in this city and I’m not letting you go so easily.”
She doesn’t care if he tries to argue with her or if he even agrees, she just hugs onto him more time, exhaling her breath out in a long sigh. “Take me home, please.”
[Kemp Oates] He squeezed her tightly, chuckling as he lied out his ass.
“Of course I’ll come to you if I need anything.”
Then he leaned back a little and held up his coat sleeve in offer.
“Go ahead, blow.”
[Moira Murray] “Liar.” She says with a half-teasing tone in her voice.
Whether or not Moira could tell he was lying she doesn’t accuse him of it. A small smile form at the corners of her mouth as she wipes her fingers under her eyes, drying away any tears. She shakes her head at the offer of his sleeve.
“I am not going to blow my nose on your jacket.”
[Kemp Oates] “Then I’ll give ya my shirt.”
He started shrugging out of the coat.
“Cause ya got a bat in the cave.”
[Moira Murray] “KEMP!” She stares at him with wide eyes, her face suddenly flushing red with embarrassment. Moira uncoils her arms from around him when he starts to shrug out of his coat, grabbing for his hands to prevent him from doing so.
“I do not have… that.” She tries to sound stern, but fails miserably. “I have my own tissues in my pocket… and you’re going to catch a chill, keep your coat on.”
[Kemp Oates] “I don’t get sick so easy. Now hand them over.”
He held out his hand.
“Unless ya want me to get naked right here and now.”
He started shrugging out of the coat again.
[Moira Murray] “I wouldn’t mind the naked part, but not here in the cemetery… my place is much warmer for that sort of thing.” She shoots back at him.
Moira grumbles, glancing down as she pulls up the flap of her messenger bag, hanging on the strap around her torso and pulls out a small package of those rectangle tissues and hands them over to him.
“What are you going to do with those?” She asks warily.
[Kemp Oates] He took the tissues, opened the little packet, withdrew a tissue, folded it neatly and held it to her nose.
“Blow.”
Just like a mom with a little kid.
[Moira Murray] Moira had just gone from twenty-one to five years old in the short amount of time it took him to do this. She looks up at him incredulously, looking up at him with her eyes as if to say ‘Are you serious?‘ expression.
“Fine.” She mumbles with a tissue around her nose, blowing into the tissue like a little kid.
[Kemp Oates] He kept from grimacing with the warm feel of snot through tissue as she blew and he pinched the tissue together and folded it over again before wiping under her nose.
“There, better.”
He smiled reassuringly and tucked the tissue into her pocket.
[Moira Murray] “……”
She watched him carefully, blinking in surprise a little as he wiped her nose for her and then tucked the tissue back into her coat pocket. She grimaces, holding her hand out for the tissue packet and takes it back from him.
“Thank you.” She smirks, “You going to tuck me into bed and kiss my forehead as well?”
[Kemp Oates] “Sure, if ya want.”
He shrugged, then offered his hand to her in the dark to lead her back towards the brighter lights outside the cemetery. Even though it was never, dark dark in the city, it was dark enough here away from street lights.
[Moira Murray] Moira laughs a little at his reply, shaking her head. She takes his hand in her own, squeezing it and follows him back out towards the brighter lights of the street and out of the cemetery.
[Kemp Oates] “Ya know, we are going to have to catch a bus or hope to flag down a cab. Or I could just call one, I guess.”
He was already thinking ahead to heading back to the Caern to send out a call and there were the ceremony to the dead to tend, also.
[Moira Murray] “It would just be easier to call one… I can take it home, if you need to leave and go attend to other things.”
Moira glances around at the graves, looking back over her shoulder towards the spot they had just left. She shudders a little, and lowers her eyes to the ground to watch where she stepped as they exited the cemetery.
[Kemp Oates] “Naw, I’ll see ya home. Then send word and well, you have all they need to know, so I’ll set the meeting out where you can tend it too so you can share information with them. I reckon we’ll be all coming back here so they can show us where the relic is and we can deal with it.”
He lead her through the stones and to the street beyond the gates where he pulled his phone out and made a call for a taxi.
[Moira Murray] She was too complacent at the moment, not even bothering to raise an argument. Just agrees with his decision with a nod of her head, Moira begins to think about all the information she had compiled. One more glance spared to the cemetery gates as they stood outside and he made a call for a taxi to come pick them up.
Moira wraps her arms around herself the moment her hand is free from his. “All right.”
[Kemp Oates] “What’s wrong?”
Her quiet attitude was so off. It made him think she was up to something and that put him on guard. It also had him turning slightly so he could block a sudden move to kick him in the nuts or something.
[Moira Murray] “I’m trying to sort through everything in my head in hopes I can remember everything that’s happened so far. This – ” She waves a hand behind her at the cemetery, “And the news about Joss…. is a bit overwhelming all of a sudden. I’m not going to sleep at all until this is resolved.”
She made no move away from him or towards him to put any physical abuse to his body, an eyebrow lifting up at his reaction. “And you surprised me back there.”
[Kemp Oates] “Huh? Why, cause I didn’t just dump ya in the dark?”
He dialed a number and waited before giving directions to come pick them up in front of the cemetery.
Then turned his attention back to Moira.
[Moira Murray] She waits to answer him after he has finished the phone call. Shrugging her shoulders a little in response, “That.”
She says, “And, you were really… sweet with comforting me and letting me cry and get your shirt wet.”
[Kemp Oates] “Family Moira. I care about ya. I ain’t a total asshole, just mostly one.”
He shrugged and stood at her side, waiting for the cab.
“So, what we seek is somewhere in there and there are dancers coming for it. I guess all the sudden appearances was a call for help?”
[Moira Murray] That seems to make her smile and chuckle.
She stood beside him, leaning to the side against Kemp. Her head touches his arm as they wait for the cab. She scrutinizes the gates, just staring at them as if staring at the graves will help her focus.
“The Marys will tell us the location of the relic, which is possibly in the graves. I guess the Dancers must have taken out the pack after they hid it, but are still seeking it if they have been looking for all this time.” She nods to his question, “I do think the sudden appearances were a call for help and they were trying to find someone willing to listen.”
She grins, “Funny how its a pair of Fenrir aiding the call.”
[Kemp Oates] “Well you are smart, I’m just the muscle.”
He looked back too and added.
“If them fuckers been looking all these years, they are dumber than cat shit. Which is to our advantage. Heh.”
[Moira Murray] “Don’t sell yourself short, Rotagar. I wanted you to come along for a reason, you are just as intelligent as I am and you asked her questions that I hadn’t thought of.” She bumps his shoulder with her head smiling up at him.
“I couldn’t have done it without your help. I get too anxious and just drilling questions…”
She laughs, “Either they are dumber than cat shit or the Marys have managed to actually elude them for this long, perhaps… they grow tired and are losing their abilities to keep it hidden.”
[Kemp Oates] “Time wears on folk, though I don’t think they see time the same as we do. Still it’s got to suck to sit in one spot, uncared for, unattended and forgotten for so long.”
He patted her on the head and made sure her coat was closed like a mother hen.
“Now, we need to get you home and I’ll send out word.”
[Moira Murray] “You know this is suppose to be the other way around. I – the kinfolk – am suppose to be taking care of you, not you playing mother hen with me.”
The pat on her head makes her laugh again, she lets him make sure her coat was buttoned up as the temperatures were starting to drop. “How long do you think it’ll be until they get here?”
[Kemp Oates] “Take a few hours at least after I get back and send out word from the Caern. Though there will be plenty there for the send offs.”
He lifted one arm, flagging down the cab as it came in to sight.
[Moira Murray] Moira straightens up, tilting her head as he waves down the taxi and it pulls up along the street with a squeal of stopping tires and a flash of red brake lights. Moira is the first to head for the back door, opening it up for Kemp as she glances up at him for a moment and then crawls into the backseat.
She slides all the way over, making room for the Rotagar to join her and leans forward to give the cabbie directions to their next destination.
[Kemp Oates] He nearly bent double to slide into the back of the taxi. As soon as the smell of the thing hit his sensitive nose, he realized the other reason he never took cabs. Not only was it costly, but they stank of far too many people.