His hearing isn’t good enough, in this form, to pick out every single word being said over there, to know that he’s been indicated even if his name hasn’t been said. He is also substantially distracted. It has. Been. YEARS. He and the Meat Lover’s…well. They got catchin’ up to do. The second slice, not quite as perfect as the first, is half finished already.
AnneMarie nods, his attention goes back to his food, and then she stops. He moves one foot, nudges the box closer to his own feet so that there’s more room on the bench, should she choose to sit (or perch, as he does), and he goes back to eating. This one talks only marginally more often than she does.
[Alaric Reiter] Another newcomer, this Jakob, that Decker speaks of. It seemed that his eyebrow currently was permenantly raised tonight. Especially with Imogen’s statement that whatever was in the bag came off of a corpse. The unasked question was etched across his face: The hell would you want with a face off a corpse? Of course, whatever Imogen or Decker could want with it was probably no business of his. And Alaric would rather not stick his head into a hornet’s nest tonight.
“I have not,” came his reply. He turned to face Jakob and AnneMarie. A nod for the metis, a mere look for the man. It might be one of the ones that came down from Minnesota. For now, Alaric remained silent.
[Ken Dobbins] A figure walked down the street, his solitary eye of green wildfire passing along the area. It was almost too nice for his sort, it felt…out of place, out of time. Beautiful condos, high rise apartments, the well-to-do that were very much not Dobbins’ sort by a long mile. But if he was reading the directions right…this was the place…at least he thought the directions were right as he reached into his backpocket and checked them again.
He leaned against his staff slightly, at the moment looking like a wilderness survivalist who went down the wrong stretch of highway and somehow found himself in the ritzy side of the Windy City. And though the urban jungle could be an adventure in itself, a travel sack and a hiking stick were not the usual tools of survival in such an environment. He frowned slightly more, quiping his lips to the side as he tried to coordinate exactly where in the hell he was at at the moment.
[Moira Tasgall] (Grr…)
[sleuth] (( Okay, I’m mussed in the mind. Where is everyone? ))
[Evan McCollach] He just chuckles a little at Thaney’s response. It was kind of funny to watch his former packmate react this way. He could have actually told her in the voicemail, but why do that and ruin the surprise. This was just too priceless to ever have thought otherwise.
“Well I guess that the towels would be good idea. But I am not sure bout everything that is needed.”
He didn’t actually take an inventory of the apartment, just a quick glance around.
[Princess] Evan chuckles; the maybe it’s a shy glance sort of angles into a glare. Brief, but there. “Towels. Okay. Favourite colors?” She can play the straight man — see?
[Imogen Slaughter] (Decker, Imogen, AnneMarie, Alaric and Jakob are in the park.)
[AnneMarie Hoch] She does sit – she does not perch. It is very likely she wouldn’t perch if it were a bet and she stood to make enough to keep herself in meatlovers pizza’s for a month. She settles to the bench, one hand pulling from her pocket to smooth her slacks over her thigh as one leg crosses over the other. Her other hand pulls free, and soon her fingers are wrapped around each other in her lap.
She does not mind his silence, any more then he mentions hers. In fact, she could be a stranger [she is] simply taking a load off [not far from the truth] in a break between rounds. His enjoyment of his pizza does not miss her notice either – few things do. She is content in the silence however, in the nearby presence of Silence, and the others. Alaric gets a slight lift of her chin in return.
And so it goes.
[Princess] Evan chuckles; the maybe it’s a shy glance sort of angles into a glare. Brief, but there. “Towels. Okay. Favourite colors?” She can play the straight man – see?
[Decker Rohl] (sorry guys, had a bug problem here)
[Evan McCollach] It seems out of no-where, but Evan realized that maybe he should talk with the rest of the pack. He wasn’t sure how to actually bring it up, so his voice suddenly sparked on across the totem link.
“A kin of mine is in Chicago from my home Sept. She is my mate. I would like her under the pack’s protection.”
(anyone else under the totem link I forgot?)
to AnneMarie Hoch, Decker Rohl
[sleuth] (( Princess, Evan, and Randi in the park as well…? ))
[Decker Rohl] (thassit for now.)
to AnneMarie Hoch, Evan McCollach
[Decker Rohl] “His name’s Jakob. He’s from Minnesota.”
Some introducer, Decker. That seems to be it. His attention wanders. More accurately: it turns inwards briefly.
Mate? — a single word, full of disbelief.
[Evan McCollach] (Princess, Evan and Randi are just outside the park, near the old pack house)
[AnneMarie Hoch] A brow arches, slightly, and pale gaze shifts to Silence, then inward. She has nothing to say, but the sense of disbelief is there.
[Randi Bartlett] *she thought for a moment* Neutral colours would be fine. I haven’t done anything fancy to the bathroom yet. *she gave a small smile* I’m still pretty much unpacking.
[AnneMarie Hoch] (…gazing inward she is now. Introspective, AnneMarie. – onward, that was the intended word. heh.)
[Kendra Peterman] Ragabash were well known for having sneaky feet, for simply appearing out of the shadows, for arriving upon a scene without anyone realizing it. They were the spies of the Garou Nation, the sleuths, the shadow-stalkers, the sneaky ass bastards that stole shit out from under your nose without you even being able to smell the bullshit all over their fingers.
Kendra wasn’t a Ragabash, but she could be pretty damn sneaky when she wanted to.
“Who’s this?”
Introductions of the polite variety were in short supply tonight, it seemed. Kendra all but popped up out of the earth to appear at Princess’s shoulder, dressed in a green ringer T-shirt and a pair of cut-off denim shorts. Blood splattered her uniform and was smeared across her legs, her entire left hand was red with it. It was dried by now, though, and no obvious wounds seemed visible. But, hey, a good Garou’s favorite accessory was blood, wasn’t it?
[Evan McCollach] He just shrugged, he didn’t actually think about towel colors or anything like that. His mind seemed a bit distant at times for a few second before looking between the two again.
“Whatever…”
Originally he was going to give Thaney the choice, but that might actually turn out to be a bad idea.
“…Randi has in mind.”
[Alaric Reiter] A nod, one of finality about Jakob. Should he need to know more, then at that determined time he would. Still, a nod down was given to Decker, Imogen, AnneMarie, and Jakob. In that order, as well. “Should you need me, you are all knowing where to find me.”
Without much further preamble, Alaric turned on his heel and started to stride off.
( To coin a phrase from another, my ass is getting numb. I’ll be back later after I’ve grabbed a bite and all. Bye! )
[Princess] Kendra is the recipient of a meaningful look. Princess’s eyes are, well, still slightly wide; sort of imploring in that look at Evan and Randi sort of way. Because she knows Kendra, yeah? “Uhm. Whose, uhm, territory is this place going to be on – ?” Because there’s a lot of awkward over that, the whole pack thing, the territories that sort of overlap and meet each other almost, which right now is totally subsumed by another kind of awkward. Then, a blink, “You need to change, Kendra.”
[Randi Bartlett] *she looked to Evan about the territory thing. then, when Kendra came from nowhere, she blinked and slightly jumped, hugging onto Evan’s arm tighter*
[Imogen Slaughter] “Good night, Alaric,” Absent as she glances at Decker, then Anne Marie. Though she cannot hear the link, she can still see the distance that it brings.
“‘ere -” whatever she might be interrupting, she’ll take her chances, as she gestures toward the bag the Fenrir carries, smeared outside with unappetizing substances and smeared inside with the same. “Gi’ it me.”
[Evan McCollach] His eyes seemed to drift offward, as if he was thinking about some enigma that would profoundly change the world if proven. His mind drifting onward.
Yeah my mate
He still trying to get the feel of the word.
She’s a close friend from home.
And when Randi hugged his arm tighter, he seeming to come back to where he was, looking over the newcommer for a second and just nodding.
“Hello Kendra, this is Randi my mate. Randi this is… typical Kendra. Oh and as for the territory, right now it doesn’t fall into anyone’s area. Just off the edges of the Eagle’s turf.”
[Evan McCollach] (Err sorry, 30 minute warning for me.)
[Kendra Peterman] “Yer what?”
Kendra, on average, is a rather cheerful person. Smiling, joking, laughing, pleasant to be around. However, those two words, particular emphasis on the second one, had the same dangerous sort of tone as they would coming from a father’s mouth after hearing a young man say “I’m your daughter’s babydaddy”. Covered in blood as she was, with her Rage thrumming in her veins as it always did, the tone was nothing to bat an eyelash at.
[Decker Rohl] (no prob. i’m on my way out too. earlyish day tomorrow *grin*)
There’s a pause. Then, tactful as ever: That was fuckin’ quick. What, y’all went ‘n got hitched in Vegas?
He glances at Imogen as she holds her hand out. Schoolyard bully’s instincts cause him to shift his stance, half-turning so the hand with the grisly bag — the right — is farther away from her. “Naw,” he says. “‘ll carry it. Where you goin’?”
[Randi Bartlett] *Randi let a hand go of Evan’s arm and offered it to Kendra* Hi, it’s nice to meet you.
[Ken Dobbins] ….oi….this shite is about bloody useless. Two of these streets didnae even have the same names and construction on another road. How can anyone even fookin’ navigate this? Last time I get directions from a lady who lives in a completely different state.
Ken grumbled, finally walking towards a store still open at this time of day…wait…no…it was night. Goddamn transatlantic flight…he sighed as he went to the glass door to pull on it, blinking when he found it locked up already and just stared skyward with a look of ‘why me?’
[Imogen Slaughter] There’s a pause between his statement, the one that brooks no argument and her reply. “Somewhere out o’ th’way t’burn it.”
When in doubt, let it burn. Or drown.
A tilt of her head back the way she’d come, and barring an argument, that is the way she heads, with only a brief glance for Jakob and AnneMarie.
[Princess] It’s Thaney’s turn to (thank god) be quiet, and watchful, which suits her. She rakes her teeth over her lower lip, and glances once – maybe a little fondly – at the fire hydrant. Or it was going to be her turn. She says, “They’re gonna live together, Kendra. Isn’t she, uhm, pretty?”
[AnneMarie Hoch] Lips twist, curl in something akin to amusement at the ever so tactful reply for Decker. But still, no reply from AnneMarie. She is one who cannot mate, according to the nation, who’s preferences do not jive either. That she has loved and lost is a given. [“What will you do if she is claimed” he once asked. “Lose her.” the simple reply.] That she never speaks of it, another one.
Imogen glances this way, and AnneMarie nods – greeting and farewell, all in once.
[Jakob Schmidt] Half the pizza is gone, and Jakob’s finally slowing down. His stomach is no longer growling, and his savored mouthfuls are being chewed more thoroughly before he swallows. He hasn’t offered any to AnneMarie. He hasn’t given a cheerful wave to Decker and Imogen. The whole lot of them were pretty…prickly. Some kind of decision had been made about him, enough to bring him here. It was getting clearer, though, that he hadn’t made any more of a choice about the Eagles than they’d made about him.
There were other people around, milling about, but he wasn’t paying attention. He belched, but he raised his fist to his mouth when he did so, then cleared his throat and paused a moment before finishing the slice in his hand.
[Evan McCollach] Both comments seem to come at the same time and he is at a bit of a loss trying to balance out which one came from where. He blinks a couple of times as he seems to strike a balance between his physical and mystical conversations.
“She’s my mate, we knew each other at my home sept.”
No we did not get hitched in Vegas. Why would you think something like that?
He tried to make sure that neitehr conversation bleeding onto the other..
[Moira Tasgall] “Twenty – two, three… here. Take it out that. I don’t have anything smaller.” Money passed along to the girl behind the counter, working late night as Moira collected up the brown paper cups, sealing its white plastic lids around the edges.
She stuffs the rest of her change and a handful of condiments into the pocket of loose cargo jeans perched off the edge of her hips, before exiting the café, still open at this time of night; a quick glance around, she steps out onto the sidewalk, cutting across the street to head for the park.
It takes a bit of walking and searching before she can find them–her and heads towards the quiet figure of Annemarie.
[Kendra Peterman] “Yer mate.” Now the tone was bland. It was the calm before the storm, Evan and Thaney both sensed it, had both seen it enough to know what was coming. Poor Randi, however, had no idea… Her hand wasn’t even glanced at, wasn’t acknowledged in the least. She was straight staring at Evan now.
“I ain’ never seen her b’fore. Not once. When’s th’last time you seen her? She from yer home Sept, y’ain’ been there fer at least a year. She must’a only barely gotten inta town maybe within th’week, ‘n already y’callin’ her yer mate? Don’ be fuckin’ retarded, Evan. S’too soon fer throwin’ ’bout that word. Mate ‘n Love, it’s serious shit. Nothin’ like taggin’ one another boyfriend ‘n girlfriend, nothin’ t’sneeze at.” Then her nose wrinkled, and she glanced to Randi. “…’Sides, it’s downright sickenin’ how she hangin’ over ya.”
Ooooooh. Bitch alarm’s a’ringin’.
[Decker Rohl] Where else do ya git hitched tha night after you meet some girl? There’s a low, hard sort of humor there. His mood is uncertain at best. Bring ‘er by tha packhouse sometime, he adds.
As for the Modi’s person: the totemlink might connect the pack, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stay in their presence at all hours. Somewhere out of the way to burn it, Imogen says. He considers her a moment, this immeasurably strong, immeasurably frail creature: half garou half human, and more than the sum thereof.
“Know where we kin go,” he says, and hefts the bag, testing its macabre weight. “C’mon.”
[AnneMarie Hoch] This gets a reaction, the defensiveness of the mental reply – though it is only a shake of her head, and the briefest of smirks.
Before she could form a reply – possibly with the words ‘shotgun wedding’ involved – the slender form of Moira headed her way. AnneMarie arches a brow, slightly, to see her heading directly toward her, but she greets her just the same as she has all the others. A nod.
[Ken Dobbins] Ken scratched his head, feeling like a bumpkin at the moment before he glanced at the skyline again and shook his head. At this rate and hour, he’d likely be trying to find a safe place to hunker down in the park for awhile…a couple of hours of shut eye under a tree or the like wouldn’t kill him. Muggers might or simple thieves who panicked while trying to get his wallet…but greenery wasn’t likely to make him ill.
He chuckled to himself at the idea of grass trying to strangle him before he moved to walk off the pavement and towards the fenced in area of the park as he twirled his staff a little. A small little hike and safe haven for napping..who knew…maybe he could find a bit of fun…the hour wasn’t that late…least not for him and he had rested enough on the flight. Shut eye or tomfoolery…either would satisfy him at the moment.
[Randi Bartlett] *she pulled her hand away, and slowly all the smiles nd whatnot vanished while listening to Kendra. Her hands slowly fell away from Evan. She tok several deep breathes and loked straight to Kendra. “I grew up with Evan. I’ve known him damn longer than you. I’ve known his family just as long. And I don’t recall you being his mother or his father. He’s an adult and can make his own choices.. *She turned to Evan.* I have to work early tomorrow. I think we should go. Besides…I just got sick to my stomach.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen glances at the Fenrir over her shoulder – and slows long enough for the gap between them to close. It’s not necessary – but she does it anyway.
“I’m just parked o’er there,” she says, out past the outskirts of the park.
Her hands slide into the pockets of her light jacket as they walk, not quite following the man-made paths that cut through the man-made slice of wilderness.
[Jakob Schmidt] Jakob is as he has been. His feet in their worn-out shoes are resting on the seat of the bench. His ass in its worn-in jeans is perched on the bench’s back. The half-finished, cooling Meat Lover’s is on the seat beside his feet, between the shoes and AnneMarie’s thigh. His shirt is a dingy white henley with the sleeves torn off, revealing the sharp black tattoos on his upper left arm. He is as he has been since he got there, only now he also has a smear of grease on his shirt and a bit of pizza sauce on his chin.
[Decker Rohl] (while i got you all here:
http://www.chicagodusk.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=4813
post availabilities!)
to AnneMarie Hoch, cricket, Evan McCollach, Jakob Schmidt
[Evan McCollach] He put a hand out to calm her down Randi a little, he wasn’t going to allow this situation get out of hand. And he just seems to look back at Kendra and shakes his head.
“I guess we are in the same boat huh Kendra?”
Kendra would understand what he was talking about, he spoken about.
“Yeah I have to get to a patrol soon. Kendra, Thaney it was nice to see you again.”
Yes I will bring her by the packhouse soon.
[Princess] Moments like these – moments like these – there’s something like despair. If you were a real philodox – if you were a good philodox – if you could really take a flame and divide it into two equal halves like you’re supposed to – if – if –
So, moments like these. Besides, I just got sick–that’s what Randi starts to say. That’s when Princess, VERY FIRMLY, having accurately read Randi’s intentions (more or less), overrides her by saying, “NICE TO MEET YOU. ANOTHER TIME.”
[Imogen Slaughter] (thanks for the RP, all!)
[Moira Tasgall] There is only silence in her head where no voices lingered through a pack connection, one of a few rare events she will ever get to experience as kinfolk to a pack of werewolves. It’s not something she entirely misses, so there is no other communication between herself and the silent Modi, just the appearance of the dark haired girl behind the bench that Annemarie sits on with a hand extending a cup of coffee to her.
“I caught sight of you on patrol when you passed by the café on your way to the park. So here.” She gives her a small grin, “I have sugar and cream packets stuffed into a pocket if you need them.
Her gaze flickers briefly, towards Jakob arching a slender eyebrow as she looks back at Annemarie. Her nostrils flare, the smell of pizza filling her nose, but she doesn’t inquire. Her arms tuck over the other, holding the second cup as she leans forward, balancing her upper body on the back of the bench, almost perching on Annemarie’s shoulder. A splash of blue-black hair falls across her shoulders, to veil the left side of her face.
[Erich] The plaintive call of an ice cream van. Battered, cuboid, rolling steadily along the street. Fading and peeling stickers of variegated treats pasted on its side.
Erich Orlov, seated on a bench facing the lake, raises his head, peering over the edge of his rumpled Wall Street Journal. He snaps the paper down, gauges distances, and then rises to his feet, folding the paper under his arm as he begins to stride to intercept.
[Kendra Peterman] Her eyes narrowed a little. Her lips curled, her teeth bared themselves a bit. There was no blood on them, that was good, it showed that nothing too serious had happened, wherever she’d gotten all the rest of the blood on her from. Showed she didn’t need to change forms to fight, didn’t need to use her fangs.
“Wha’ fuckin’ boat you talkin’ ’bout?”
She flinched a little when Thaney shouted, understood that this was Thaney’s way of difusing a situation, but didn’t much care. In her eyes, Evan was behaving rashly. In her eyes, she was doing the good deed, and she’d be damned if she would be stopped from doing what was right.
[Randi Bartlett] *she took Evan’s hand, and turned to follow him from this place. She looked over her shoulder and gave Thaney a smile atleast* Hope to see you again, atleast. *she didn’t even bother looking to Kendra again. She turned to looked up to Evan and frowned* I’m sorry.
[Decker Rohl] (i’m out too. thanks for the RP!)
[AnneMarie Hoch] That brow arches a little higher, and then there’s the slightest curl of her lips into a brief smile. It flitters across her lips, then away again. Slender fingers lift, and she takes the cup of coffee from the pretty kinfolk, but waves away any sugar and cream. A deep breath brings the scents deep into her lungs, then releases them once more before she takes a sip.
She doesn’t say thank you. She doesn’t need too. But, after a moment, she reaches into her pocket to retrieve her whiteboard and writes quickly. ~ Jakob, Moira. Moira Jakob. He returned with us from Minnesota.~
[Evan McCollach] “Stubborness, about not caring what other think Kendra. Hope you have a good night.”
He didn’t say anything malicious, anything mean. And he would definately not let Randi put her foot in her mouth over it.
“I’ll walk you back to home.”
And with that he just started off from the pair. It was definately not the way he had expected this night to turn out.
[Randi Bartlett] ((Thanks for the RP!))
[Erich] The howl ripples out across the lake, through the night air, almost visible in the darkness, the way it disturbs and curls and shapes the hush and passing of the nocturnal noises. Steven, attention already directed, stiffens. He narrows his eyes as he tries for better vision, to make out more than just blonde, shirtless, male.
Thaney stands, and he rises slowly beside her, rising to stand taller, broader of shoulder, but perhaps more tentative. She holws back, a crude ululation, but he’s already moving past her, one hand ghosting across her shoulder, a wisp of fingers over her shirt, and then he’s forging into the darkness, picking up speed, moving from stride to jog to slow run, careful in the dark, feet punctuating the earth and grass.
The night is close and eveloping and velvet about him. The trees sway into his field of vision, the lake a battered iron shield to his right. Moving forwards, face set, seeking out that flash of pale skin, seeking out the stranger.
[Evan McCollach] (Sorry that I have to go, thanks for the rp. Have a good night everyone)
[Erich] ((*mutters* Ignore that, please.))
[Moira Tasgall] (*cracks up*)
[Princess] Thaney’s expression is a little pained. That’s all, when Randi – pointedly – singles her out from Kendra. Evan gets a somewhat disappointed glance, but he’s not paying attention; the disappointed glance is halved, equally, diminishes a little bit, angles onto Kendra. “You can have one of my shirts. Or jeans. We’re almost the same size, right?” Not so much diffuse the situation as – direct its attention elsewhere. And look, no situation any more, not right now. Right?
[Jakob Schmidt] Jakob wipes the back of his hand across his chin, then licks the pizza sauce off of it. He leans over, cranes his neck slightly, and looks at the whiteboard when AnneMarie pulls it out. Reading quickly – very quickly – he then looks at Moira and nods. That’s not a lot of information to go on, and he doesn’t make assumptions lightly. “Hi.”
[Ken Dobbins] Ken walks along before he paused, sniffing the stale breeze as he smelled…something familiar. It wasn’t home, but it smelled just as familiar. The scent of java…the quick cure to a hangover or anything else that ails ya in the morning. He started to follow it, not really expecting a cafe but at least expecting to come across some coffee.
He wasn’t exactly expecting to come across people right away…nor was he expecting to see a pretty girl and then a girl who appeared like she could break him the small pikey in half. Nor was he expecting the brief hints of Nordic heritage that showed in their tones…faces…little clues that hinted at the lineage in the three gathered at the bench.
Well this is gonna be bloody lovely
“‘allo ladies and gent…’ow goes it?”
[cricket] (why do you all do interesting scenes when I can’t play? you do this just to taunt me! :-( /whine, return to RP)
to AnneMarie Hoch, Erich, Evan McCollach, Jakob Schmidt, Ken Dobbins, Kendra Peterman, Moira Tasgall, Princess
[Erich] The ice cream truck trundles sedately along, calling its siren song, the speaks afixed atop the van blaring out the age old tune that promises ices and creams and everything inbetween. Erich moves off the pavement, passing between two parked cars and out to flag it down, newspaper raised in an informal wave.
The ice cream truck, obligingly, begins to slow.
[Kendra Peterman] Kendra glared hard after the red-haired ex-packmate and his newfound mate. Thaney could feel the Galliard’s muscles tremble, feel the want to stomp up after them. She could just see the scene playing in front of her eyes, could just see Randi being tossed out of the way and Evan slammed through some little house’s front fence. It would certainly be an interesting scene.
…But none of it happened. Kendra just growled quietly and continued to stare after the pair as they grew smaller and smaller by the way distance grew larger and larger between them and herself. “…Pants’ll fit, doubt any’a yer shirts will, ‘less ya got some big ones.”
[AnneMarie Hoch] awwwwwwww! Poor Jac!)
to cricket
[Princess] “I’ve got some t-shirts that might do,” Thaney says, with a flick of a glance toward Kendra’s – er – developing assets. Then she rubs her forehead with the palm of her hand, and to be honest, she’s simply pleased Kendra didn’t slam Randi into the concrete until – well. Whatever. She tilts her head, and takes a step back. Then blinks, once, “Uh. Didja see Evan ever hooking up?” AMENDMENT. AMENDMENT. “I mean, like – with a girl?” NO. BAD. AMENDMENT> “A girl like that?” There, that’s fine.
[Moira Tasgall] “When did you go to Minnesota, Annemarie?” Her eyes dart down as soon as the whiteboard appears, comfortable hanging on the female modi as along as she allows the girl to do so. She looks up again to see Jakob licking pizza sauce off his hand, the simple greeting leaves her with nothing to go on.
“Well, hello, Jakob, how are you this evening? I haven’t seen you before are you from around here? Do you know Annemarie at all?” The barrage of questions come out quickly, never missing a beat as she offers him a smile, “Good pizza I assume, or you just the strong silent type like Anne here?”
A pause, Moira blinks as something disrupts her train of thought just then, she straightens up a bit on the bench, craning her head to glance over at Ken as he comes upon them. She busies herself with her cup of coffee, peeling back the lid. It becomes a balancing act as she holds the cup and lid in her left hand and digs for the sugar packets with the right.
[Kendra Peterman] Thaney and Kendra. She Whose Tongue Knives Flame Into Equal Halves and Lil’ Throat Ripper. These two were Chicago’s ‘Fianna girls’. Both Fianna to a fault, both female, both teenagers. Eeriely alike in some aspects of their personalities, yet fiercely different in others. It surprised not a soul, not even their own, that they became good friends so quickly.
It made sense that Thaney would be able to clear that cloud of Rage and insult from the older but shorter Fianna’s eyes, was quite logical that she could make the girl grin broadly, relax her shoulders, and fall back into her ‘old self’, all cheer and smiles. “Y’totally just called Evan gay there, y’know.” Then, a shrug and a shake of the head. She started to rub her hands together, flaking the dried blood off her left hand, showing a perfect circle on the back of her hand and the palm of her hand, pale pink skin, freshly regenerated.
“…But no. Ain’ never imagined Evan wi’h no partner. He’s like… perpetually single. Everyone’s brother, y’know? It’s weird. An’ obnoxious. Tha’ girl? Totally clingy.”
[AnneMarie Hoch] Moira gets an answer first. We all went. Moot.
Second, Moira receives a sharp glare – brief – for shortening her name. She knows better. But then she turns the weight of her gaze on Ken. Her hand covers the board, her eyes do not waver. And she doesn’t speak a word.
[Jakob Schmidt] There’s a pause. Jakob, mouth on the back of his hand, flicks his eyes from Moira to Ken and back again. They’re blue, but not cold or chilling or piercing. There’s a vague sort of openness to them, inscrutable but calm. He takes a moment to consider how to respond – to any of them, really. AnneMarie doesn’t talk, Moira talks a lot, whoever she is, and that guy, is, um…right. What?
“Fine.” Beat. “No.” Beat. “Kinda.”
He closes the lid of the pizza box with the toe of one shoe. The last bit, the one about being like ‘Anne’…um…this may be the first time he’s heard Ruhiger’s human name.
[Princess] Her ears go pink. “I – did I? I don’t think he’s gay! I mean, because he’s – he’s just not very good with girls. Like, I mean, he’s – blah. Shit.” She tugs on her hair, brows furrowed – ” – well. He seemed to like it, I guess. The clinginess. To each his own, right?”
[Princess] “Besides,” she adds. “His taste isn’t all bad. He likes us, after all!”
[Erich] The ice cream truck comes to a stop, and the shadowy figure behind the wheel rises and awkwardly makes its way into the back, the small vehicle rocking on worn axles as he does so. Erich slips his folded paper back under his arm, and approaches the side window, coming to a stop a mere yard from the glass as it’s slid back to reveal an egg shaped head, black pubic hair swirling in tufts above the ears, the bald dome rising like Mount Fuji above the glittering glasses, the snub nose, the wide, froggy mouth.
“Good evening,” says Erich seriously, eyes scanning the pictures and prices on the side of the truck.
“Hello,” says the man politely, his voice a pleasant tenor.
[Kendra Peterman] “To each his own– in their own private quarters.” She huffed softly, stuck her nose into the air, and glanced across the street to the park. It was simply a place to look while she thought, while she spoke.
“I mean, fuck, me ‘n Joe? I’m pretty sure th’most we e’er touch each other out in public is when we’re pushin’ one another ‘r some shit like tha’. Baaku ‘n Nessa? There weren’t no public affection with them neither. S’just gross t’watch. Like… Like havin’ someone tear open a bag’a cane sugar ‘n dump it down yer throat. Too fuckin’ sweet t’look at.” Then. “…But yeah, he does like us. Bu’ fuck, lady, everyone likes us.” Smirk.
[Ken Dobbins] He raises a brow, the solitary eye glancing to them, pausing on Moira for a moment as he looked her over, almost leeringly as he gave an ear to ear smile then back to Jakob who was the only one who had spoke.
“So…can I buy a full sentence or does that require extra incentive, mate?”
He walks over, shifting the staff to rest on the back of his neck, arms draping over the wood, dangling his fingers from it, sniffing again as he smells food and coffee.
[Princess] Oh, please no, she thinks, just as soon as Kendra says me n’ Joe. But there are no details, so it is good, thus declared the Lord. “Well, yeah. I mean, I agree; it was hard. I mean – man. Evan!” Around Kendra, she can be astonished without worrying about his feelings. “But maybe he’ll be happy with her, and shit. His childhood friend, and all.” She says that neutral, so – either way – there’s no conviction. She holds the serious expression for a moment, maybe three, and then it filters away into a faint lopsided smile. “Everyone? Betcha you’re wrong. Betcha I can name three names.”
[Jakob Schmidt] The man’s eyes move again from Ken, to Moira, to Ken, to AnneMarie. They stop there. “I’m going back to the house,” he tells her. There’s no explanation to any of them, nor answer to Ken. If anything, he seems somewhat uneasy, and that is never entirely a safe place to be. He slides off his perch and moves his feet to the ground, preparing to go. The pizza isn’t left – he picks that box up, yes he does. He’ll have that stuff cold in the morning for breakfast.
[AnneMarie Hoch] Her gaze narrows on Ken as he leers at Moira, but he is still not graced with a single word. In point of fact, she takes the moment to look around, scanning, alway watching, always on guard, even in such seeming repose.
What kind of Ice Cream truck goes on rounds at 1am, anyway? Her gaze shifts again, to rest heavily on Ken. The blue of her eyes is pale. And expressionless. Completely unlike Jakobs. Jacob speaks again and receives a nod in return.
[Erich] Erich takes his time scanning the pictures. The man watches him patiently.
“What is the ‘stuffed’ snow cone?” asks the Shadow Lord.
“Well, that’s when you take a regular snow cone, like, and you layer in some soft serve, usually vanilla.” The man edges around a little bit, easing some weight onto his pale elbows. Erich nods, considering.
[Moira Tasgall] “Is he…?” A gesture to Jakob at Annemarie’s writing on the whiteboard, the sentence never finished between Jakob’s answers to her questions and the sudden appearance of Ken.
She manages to handle the three packets of sugar, pressed them together and brings them up to her mouth to tear off a corner with her teeth. Head turns to spit out the paper as she dumps it into the cup, before crumbling it up. She picks at a piece of paper, removing it from her tongue before stuffing the empty packets back into her pocket.
“I don’t think anyone is selling a sentence. Sorry.” To Ken, Moira doesn’t say anything else to Jakob. A slight frown spreading over her features as she glanced his way and then back to Ken.
[Kendra Peterman] She thought about that for a second, then grinned and nodded. “Yeah, true. Bu’ c’mon, most everyone likes us. I don’ think there’s a person out there that hates both of us anyway. I mean someone migh’ hate you, bu’ they probably don’ give two shits about me ‘r like me fine. I know there’s plenty’a folks that hate me, bu’ they probably ain’ got no issues with you.”
Her shoulders shrugged, then she glanced to the quietly tinkling music of the ice cream truck up the street. She watched the tall dark man come up beside it, lifted her eyebrows as she watched, and pondered whether or not she wanted ice cream. Either it would be delightful, or it would make her sick. …Eating food was like playing russian roulette anymore.
[Jakob Schmidt] No one stops him, no one asks, and so he gathers up his box of pizza and heads off.
[Ken Dobbins] “Ah…any chance ye got an extra cup of that? Bloody airline serves tar they like ta call a cup of coffee.”
He proceeds closer, though a bit more timidly as Anne Marie seems all the more menacing at his presence as he stops a little bit short. He slides the staff back down, leaning his hands over it for a moment and mostly putting his weight against it.
“Sorry, bloody rude of mae I suppose…name’s Ken…Ken Dobbins. A pleasure ta meet ye ladies…even it is an odd ‘our at that..”
[AnneMarie Hoch] A slight nod, for Moira, but that is all. It could mean many things, depending on what she truly meant by the question. He is Trueborn. He is with the Eagles. He is probationary – yet not pack. He is almost as quiet as she.
Ken – receives only a look that suggests he not come any closer then that, that perhaps he’s already pushing it. And silence. Complete and total.
[Princess] “That’s Erich,” she says, as recognition dawns. The ice cream truck is incongruous, but they make strange rounds, come summer; don’t they? Then she adds, “Maybe you’re right. I don’t think Joe likes me, but he clearly likes you,” and here, that sideswipe of a smile again. Followed by, “Well, okay: Ruhiger. Betcha she doesn’t like either of us. And maybe, hm. I guess this is pretty pointless, huh? Maybe that Never fellow. He doesn’t seem like he likes lots of people.”
[Erich] Erich considers the list of available choices, and then fixes the man with a serious look.
“What do you have for sale that’s not on this list?”
The man shifts uncomfortably. “Excuse me?”
“You have to have a couple of items that aren’t on common display. What are they?”
The man shifts again, seeming unable to find a comfortable position. “Sir, all the ice creams I got are right up there for people to buy. I ain’t got nothing not listed.”
Erich simply holds the man’s gaze, and begins to frown.
[Kendra Peterman] “I don’ think Ruhiger dislikes either of us. …I think she’s one’a them people who couldn’ give less than two flyin’ shits about us. Like Decker.” She nodded here, as though there was deep wisdom in her words, and glanced down at her left hand with its pale hole in the center, then shrugged and shoved her hands back into her shorts pockets and went back to watching Erich.
“…Y’think that crusty old Lord would buy us ice cream?”
[Moira Tasgall] “There is a café across the street that is open late at night. It’s about half a block down. I’m not a waitress and I can’t produce coffee out of thin air so your best bet is to go to the café.” She replies to Ken, looking at him as Moira points in the direction she had come from.
“Sorry, I don’t carry extra coffee around on me, Mr. Dobbins.”
[Princess] “Maybe,” she says. “But I don’t think indifference, in her case, necessarily precludes dislike.” My, those are some fancy words. But she reads, in her free time; she’s picked up a vocabulary. “We can ask,” in response to the crusty Lord, the ice cream question. Followed by, “And by the by, Kendra. You’re covered in blood.” Casual. “Why?”
[Ken Dobbins] “Its alright, luv. If ye could make coffee appear out of mid-air…I might have to ask for a number. Though, if ye could produce a pint of Guinness like magic, then I’d have ta ask ye ta marry mae.”
He continued to grin, just resting his chin on the folded hands, cocking his head to the side.
“Sorry if I’m being a bit of a bother…but…its fun ta meet new faces and ‘sides…was getting bloody tired of trying to find where I was goin’.”
He glances to Anne Marie.
“So…do ye ladies have names? Hmm…what about ye big, silent and beautiful?”
[Kendra Peterman] “Le’s go ask, then.”
And with that, Kendra started walking up the street toward the stopped ice cream truck and Erich standing beside it. She kept her hands in her pockets, glanced to Thaney with mild surprise in her eyes when she commented on the blood, then looked down at herself briefly. “…Huh. I wouldn’ say covered, exactly. More like…. smeared a bit.” Then she shrugged, grinned faintly, briefly, and looked back to the ice cream truck she was walking toward, thinking that a Choco Taco sounded great right now. “Found a couple’a thugs. A couple’a ’em had guns. I smashed some faces, this new ‘Fang fella smashed some faces, we both got shot. T’was all good fun.”
[Erich] Erich seems in no rush to order. He stands tall and silent before the man, who, like a mouse before a snake, sits rapt, still, observant. Erich raises the newspaper to tap it against his chin, double checking the list of faded wares, and then pauses as two figures begin to approach him and the truck.
He turns his head. His gaze is flat, cold, hard, like the eyes of a dead fish. Like the eyes of a shark. The eyes of a predator, and its a gaze that’s been levelled at the ice cream man for a good two minutes now. The vendor reaches up to mop at his brow, relieved that he’s no longer the target, and cranes his head out the little window to check out whom approaches.
“Thaney,” says Erich, his voice smooth, rich, low.
[AnneMarie Hoch] And that was the last straw. She is up, then, before it seems she could have moved, and she towers over the little man with the big mouth. It is no full moon, but her rage is oppressive even now, even as it darkens. And there is nothing short of murder in her eyes.
She tucks the white board into her pocket, and then with a pointed look at Moria, she gestures to the path in silent suggestion. If she does not leave now – the man may not.
[Princess] “New ‘Fang, huh? What sort?” – because she asks questions. All the time. Always.
And here’s Erich. The philodox nods to him, once. She says, “Hey. You know my – ” Brief pause. “Do you know Kendra? We were wondering if you could – ” and here, morality intrudes ” – spot us some cash and, uhm, maybe buy us some ice cream.”
[Moira Tasgall] Moira was taking a sip of her coffee when she catches the last bit of what Ken says to Annemarie, calling her big, silent and beautiful. It’s enough to get a startled reaction and has the kinswoman’s head turning to spit out her coffee.
She blinks, snapping her eyes over to the small man as the Modi shot up from the bench. She takes a step back, moving away from it as she receives that look from her.
“I think you picked a bad night to piss her off, elf-boy. And flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere in this case…” her head shakes, continuing to back away and head for the pathway at Annemarie’s silent suggestion.
[Ken Dobbins] “…nae…I suppose yer right, luv…”
He glances up to Anne as she looms over him, hands still resting on the top of his staff.
“So…uh…would an apology matter if I offended ye or likely ta dig mae grave deeper? If so, I’d prefer 8 feet but if its only deep enough where I still feel the rain, I’ll be happy all the same as well.”
[Kendra Peterman] She lifted her chin a little in greeting to Erich, smiled a bright cheesey grin just for him. Whatever history she and Erich might have held was left aside at the prospect of him buying her and Thaney ice cream. All Shadow Lords were rich, after all. It was like some sort of rule, you had to meet a certain income in order to join their tribe.
“Oh he knows me alrigh’.” Her teeth, white and flashing, are bared in another smile. “How ya doin’, Erich-sir.” There were a few questions tickling the back of her mind, things she wanted to talk to the Lord about, but they were kept there at the back of her mind to be forgotten, left there so they didn’t interrupt her current good mood.
For the moment she didn’t answer Thaney’s inquery about what type of Silver Fang she had encountered. She peered back at the man leaning out his window to survey her and Thaney instead, lifted her eyebrows at his bad balding problem, and wondered what she would look like herself if she were to ever get old.
[AnneMarie Hoch] She takes up her coffee that Moira had provided. Ken receives nothing more than a glance, then, as she slides her free hand into her pocket, and falls into step with Moira.
A bad night indeed. It is fortunate to not be her moon, as well.
[Erich] Erich quirks a black eyebrow at Thaney’s question, but rather than answer, he turns his attention to Kendra. Takes a moment to read the blood stains, the nature of the tears in her shirt, and for a long moment his gaze rests on her stomach, considering.
Then, finally, his gaze flicks up, meets her rich and vibrant eyes, and then he nods, once.
“Hello, Kendra.” His voice is polite, neutral, if anything, amused. “Anna is back in town.” A pause, as he lets this register. “Coll’s a no-show, however.” Again he pauses, watches. There’s no malice in his voice, but his eyes do gleam, and then he turns back to Thaney and inclines his head in assent.
“Please, feel free to pick an ice cream. I will pay for it with pleasure. Though of course,” he says, pausing to look each of them in the eye, “You will both own an honor debt to me and mine.”
A pause, and then he snorts almost inaudibly, amused at his own joke, and turns look back at the truck’s side.
[Princess] Wait, wait. Wait. ” – Coll? Coll Two Spears? That Coll?”
The way Thaney says that, after a brief pause, with her very serious gaze very steady, and suddenly made – almost? – radiant with attention – well. The way she says that. Take a moment to pause.
She blinks, once. Then, to the froggy man, the bald man, the man with (ew, gross) pubic hair on his head, “A push-pop please. Orange. You don’t have any? How about that one that looks like Tinkerbell? Thank you.”
[Kendra Peterman] Kendra’s heart jumped a little when Erich mentioned that Anna was back in town. If that icey bitch was back, then that meant–… And her heart sank. Her brows knitted into a bit of a frown, and she muttered in a dishearted voice. “‘Course he is.” Way to ruin a girl’s evening. Swallowing back the rise of sadness in her throat (or was that bile?), she shook her head, nudged Princess in the ribs for using Coll’s deed name in front of the ice cream man, and looked over the menu.
While pondering whether Erich said that just because he knew it would make her feel bad she looked over her choices. After deciding that was indeed the Lord’s intent, she ordered. “Choco Taco.” No please, no thank you. If anyone complained about that, they’d hear a fuck you.
[Ken Dobbins] He watched them walk away, before feeling a slight yawn and started to walk off on his own deeper into the park.
[Moira Tasgall] Moira doesn’t say another word to Ken, just gives him look over her shoulder and then away, a bit in disbelief at the situation. Her pace is slow until Annemarie caught up with her and then she falls into step with the female modi, heading away until she has left the park.
[Moira Tasgall] (night! thanks for play)