Hey, it made sense at the time.
And so, into the kin house he only pops into once in a while to grab laundry anymore, he swaggers (staggers – catches self, walks a straight [hahahahhaah] line again) in the front door, with a six pack in hand. Because he’s also not had enough to drink. honest. He and Henry, while not even close to touching at this point, are certainly connected in some way – it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. But while Henry is most certainly nervous and tried his best to persuade Tristan to have coffee first, it didn’t work, because Tristan is pretty and persuasive, and also? still an Eagle Kin. And a little sloshed. We mentioned that right? right.
Thus, here comes the gay bois. Heaven forbid.
[Randi Bartlett] *Randi heard the door and peeked out the kitchen* Hi! *waving* Party’s in the back, help yourself. Oh, and careful, I think Decker is getting upset with this redhead cause she’s not going to eat. Just warning you. *not that she was warned Imogen was Decker’s mate*
[Henry Allard] Liquid courage, it’s called, a moniker for the lowering of inhibitions bestowed by alcohol in its many forms. Much of that has been imbibed already, at a party going on several miles away, but it doesn’t seem to be doing any good. The truck parks itself, independent of the driver’s desire to go anywhere near the intended destination, and were it not for the fact that Tristan is out of the cab with frightening speed, he would have stayed there all afternoon.
When the two stroll into the house, Tristan is leading the way. Not only is he leading the way, he is doing so with a great gap between himself and his hostage. Henry maintains a distance somewhere in the neighborhood of four feet. There is no real point. Modesty, perhaps, or a hope that he’ll be able to pull an about face at some point.
They don’t look as if they’ve come together. No, rather, that distance conjures up the image of a beleagured parent following after a toddler learning how to walk. It is caution that flattens itself across Henry’s face as they cross into populated territory.
[Evan McCollach] He looks at Imogen when she spoke and nodded.
“Sorry about my manners.”
He would be willing to step inside for a moment to finish there conversation if he could really think of an answer at this moment, but for the life of him he couldn’t. And then Maya questions him as well, not so much of a pressing question, but it did seem to give him more of a chance to stew over Randi’s inquiry.
“Well, Randi and I we lived together back where we grew up. Well not together, together, but close. We been life long friends back home and everything. Anyway we were never far apart from each other, kinda like we were attached at the hip. Even when I was learning my duties as a philodox and what not. I always had a crush on her and well didn’t actually know how to say anything. After my first change and… well after becoming a child of Gaia, I couldn’t stay much longer at the The Guided Hand on family reasons. I left and wandered a while trying to find a new place and found myself in Chicago, but I always thought about Randi. Well after returning from Storm Hammer, as fate would have it Randi was coming here to go to school and well I knew I could let her go again.”
Charming and persuasive Evan could be some times, a storyteller he was not. He tried to get the important parts in. But he just could not express the whole story that well.
[Imogen Slaughter] Randi apologizes and Imogen regards her briefly before inclining her head – acknowledgement or acceptance of her words, perhaps. She has little else to add – and does not seem inclined to ask them the subject of their side conversation.
It is perhaps due in part to the Modi as he turns to face her, clearly dominating her height with his aggression. The kinwoman looks up over the distance as if it were nothing – and her straight posture does not bend beneath the weight of his rage.
Her smirk echoes his, a paler mirror of his expression. “If you insist.”
She can hear Randi speaking to someone from the kitchen, but cannot hear the content. The facedown ends (perhaps he wins) when she turns away to pick up the beer from the picnic table, draining it to the dregs. Another angled step to retrieve her guitar, her other hand lifting to push back hair from her eyes.
“Ha’ a good time,” y’all, an American might have said; Imogen simply directs her statement to no one in particular.
[Tristan Stern] He blinks at Randi and looks at Henry as if he might know who she is. And then with a snort. “So they’re practically makin out, s’what ya sayin?” And cue that pretty grin as he leads Henry out back.
“Someone said there was food… aw hell, ya lettin Decker cook?” A grin for the room as he plops his offering on the table next to AnneMarie’s shoulder, before pulling himself off another beer and opens it. belated. “Who the hell’s in the kitchen?” So it’s been a while.
Then. “Heya Imogen.”
[Decker Rohl] His grunt might’ve been a later-imogen, but who’s to say? Either way, the Modi watches her depart, his eyes flickering down her backside before she circles out of view and/or steps into her car.
Then he turns back to the grill, not quite in time to save the burgers from burning on one side. Having heard Tristan, the Modi snorts in lazy indignation. “You wanna do tha grillin’, faggot boy?” Oh look: terms of endearment.
[Imogen Slaughter] “Tristan,” it’s a greeting of sorts – or maybe a farewell, since the kinfolk turns away to walk from the gathering, opening the gate with her free hand and stepping out and disappearing behind the corner of the once-office building.
[Randi Bartlett] *she came out a couple of minutes behind the two guys carrying a large covered pot holding the steaming corn. On top was the chilled butter. She squeezed in between bodies to set the pot down and then the butter to the side. After which, she moved over and sat beside Evan once more, taking his hand to hold in her lap. She noticed Imogen leaving and frowned a bit, but then, it really wasn’t her call*
[AnneMarie Hoch] People come, people go. AnneMarie just watches. Occasionally there’s a bemused smirk that slashes across her lips before disappearing once again.
Imogen does receive a nod as she goes by – one that serves for goodbye, and Tristan and Henry the same that apparently is hello.
Quiet girl, AnneMarie. Shock.
[Henry Allard] The tall Child kinsman pushes his hands, jingling with the protestation of keys, into the pockets of his jeans. With the day being sunny and the breeze being mild, one might think long sleeves would be a hindrance, a burden. Over a dark blue t-shirt he wears an unbuttoned yellow dress shirt, the sleeves rolled to mid-forearm, and he does not seem bothered by the additional clothing. What does seem to be bothering him is that he doesn’t quite know what he ought to be doing with himself.
As they pass through the kitchen, as the unfamiliar blonde greets them and Tristan gives him a glance, Henry pulls a facial and a shoulder shrug, an I dunno unvoiced. Distance closes between the two in the small space, and once they emerge in the back, he sticks a little closer. Three feet, now, instead of four. That’s an improvement, somehow.
Imogen is given a raised hand in greeting, farewell, either and both.
That “faggot” comes out of Decker’s mouth hadn’t surprised Henry the first time he heard it. Now, though, he blinks, glances at the shorter kinsman as if wary of his reaction.
[Maya Nevskaja] “I can grill,” Maya announces, taking advantage of Decker’s momentary lapse in concentration in watching the kinwoman leave to cease control of the tongs – or attempt it at the very least. The scent of the burning meat was making her queasy, and as Evan finished his tale – and Tristan and Henry arrived – the raven-haired, not quite fully Fenrir was involved in a grappling match over a set of tongs.
“At least offer a choice between black and ashes.” She breathes, snorts, briefly.
[Evan McCollach] Evan had only seen Tristan in passing, he had not actually had the pleasure of conversing with him however. Then again both Moira and Ling said that he would probably like Tristan and Tristan would love to meet him. He just accepted it and thought maybe one day they would actually get around to talking. But then again whose to know what the next day would actually bring.
And when Randi reappeared from the Kitchen, he moved to help her out, if she would relinquish the pot to him. However he did not stil have an answer, and maybe for a moment he turned a shade, but then again it was probably just a flash of his red hair giving off the appearance. One hand held in Randi’s lap, the other holding his can of soda, which he raises in greeting to both Tristan and Henry. And then he turns to the ever quiet AnneMarie.
“So did you hurt anything today?”
[Maya Nevskaja] (cease? try seize — ah kin speel.)
[Imogen Slaughter] (thanks for the scene everyone! time to pack up the laptop and router. Bye!)
[Randi Bartlett] ((Night Mei!))
[Tristan Stern] Oddly – from Decker? it doesn’t have the same effect on Tristan as it does from that c… from her. In fact, all Decker gets is a snort in return, and a lazy (half drunk) grin. “You always did appreciate my cooking. You’d think a fuckin redneck could at least grill decently.”
He doesn’t seem inclined to take the tongs though. Terms of endearment indeed. “You remember Henry. Henry – that’s Imogen leavin, and Decker ya know, and that…must be Evan, and that…” pause. blink. stares at Maya, and then at Randy and snorts. “Ain’t a clue who the fuck they are… but I’m betting one of them” Randy and Maya “is the owner of the pretty things that now appear in the laundry piles next to decker’s shorts.” brilliant deduction, Tris.
[Tristan Stern] (tosses in “And that’s AnneMarie.” too.)
[Randi Bartlett] *she gigled hearing Tristan* Hi, I’m Randi, and the reason you don’t do Evan’s laundry anymore. *blushing softly*
[AnneMarie Hoch] Evan receives a lifted brow, and a slight smirk. She doesn’t answer over the totemphone, this time. Instead, her whiteboard hits the table, and the black pen makes an appearance right behind it. Her reply there, left for anyone who wants to read it.
~Why, are you volunteering?~
[Decker Rohl] “This’s Maya Nevskaja,” Decker says, handing over the tongs without much fuss after he scoops one of the rather rare-on-one-side, burnt-on-the-other patties onto a waiting bun. Picking his beer off the grill, he goes to sit up on the picnic table, feet planted on the adjoining bench. “‘n I kin grill. Jus’ not while tha fairest ass’a them all is headin’ out tha gate.”
There it is: that deadpan humor, that unexpected comment, the sort that he’d break another man’s face for so much as thinking — all of which speaks of long association with the BG kin. Whodathunk one day Tristan would be his one link back to the original Eagles, besides Imogen and himself.
[Randi Bartlett] *she heard Decker’s comment and smiled* She’s very pretty, Decker. You’re lucky. I wish I was even half as pretty as her.
[Henry Allard] Without ceremony, Henry pulls a pack of Parliament Lights out of a hip pocket. They are regarded silently for a moment, and then Henry takes another step, then two, closer to Tristan. Bows his head.
“No one here’s pregnant, are they?” he half whispers, the sentence loud enough to be heard in the near vicinity.
It’s a legitimate concern.
[Tristan Stern] He chuckles at that and nods. “Good point.” It’s no wonder that he considers himself Eagle Kin first and foremost, still. That Decker never made him chose when James left, when Kemp left, and never told him to git… it says a lot for that long association. Or his ability to do laundry. Either way.
He grins over at Randi “And that’s much appreciated. You the one takin over the cookin regular too? Hope so – been busy keeping the roommates fed and cleaned up after so I can earn my keep.”
To Maya – he lifts his beer. “Pleasure, ma’am.” So what if he’s likely older then her. He’s older then all of em. Cept Imogen, of course. And maybe Decker. He never asked… he finds himself a seat and eyes the bowl of watermelon soaked in alcohol, and then grabs a plate and starts off with desert. Gotta keep his drunken high going, right? Right.
He grins up at Henry and chuckles. “Nah. Think the Eagles are free from the epidemic so far.”
[Decker Rohl] Decker shakes his head, biting into his burger. “Ain’t lucky jus’ ’cause she’s purty,” he says, and clams up on that comment. He’s said enough; more than he ever would, if this weren’t his pack. His extended pack. Whatever. He washes the mouthful of burger down with a swig: nothing but meat, bread and beer, not even ketchup to lighten things up.
Setting the beer down, then, he decides to add a line or two to his introduction of Maya Nevskaja: “She’s down from Minn’sota.” Right. That was helpful.
[Henry Allard] ((I think Henry’s got the Oldest Person in the Room title, thankyouverymuch.))
[Evan McCollach] He remembered meeting Henry a couple of times, however last time they met he was even more ineberated than Tristan was right now. But he was still rather reserved while he was drunk beyond comprehension.
But as Tristan and Decker conversed and Randi introduced herself, he looked over at the writing on AnneMarie’s board and shrugged. She would definately mop the floor with him still. “And I am betting you would love to embarass me right here again.”
He turned to look at Randi and smiled, but when Henry questions if anyone is pregnant… damn that light playing tricks again. For a second it seemed that Evan turned a shade red again. Probably just Global Warming or something.
[Randi Bartlett] *Tristan received a blush and smile* That would be me. Hopefully no one gets too fat off my cooking.
*Decker though, he get a thoughtful look from the kin.*
*The pregnant comment made her red though and she quickly started downing her soda*
[Tristan Stern] “Lucky cuz she’s a damn good shot. I should know.” Snorts and rubs his shoulder where he still bears the scar that Imogen placed there with precision. Then Decker moves the convo back to Maya, and Tristan studies her a moment. “Couldn’t resist the windy city, huh?”
He doesn’t seem surprised that folks would follow Decker. After all, that’s why Tristan’s in chicago, too.
To Randy, he snorts, chuckling. “They ain’t never get fat. No more then I do.” If there’s adverse reactions to that pregnant comment, he misses them completely. Look! Watermelon!
[Henry Allard] Tristan thinks the epidemic has not struck this side of town, this gathering of people, and yet the spread of flushing blood to cheeks would say otherwise. Though Henry is by nature quiet, is not bubbling with speech and rushing to get to know everyone (even if he were, he has the good sense to know that this isn’t his place, even if he has been dragged nearly against his will by his more intoxicated better half) he is aware of his surroundings, and he catches the look the two mated Children share.
Oh.
Parliaments are pushed back into his pocket, now, and Henry reaches up to scratch the back of his neck while visibly debating whether or not to crack open a beer.
[AnneMarie Hoch] That receives a slight smirk. Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t. She doesn’t make a move to do so, either way.
[Maya Nevskaja] Maya, it would appear, has satisfied herself that the remaining patties are neither frozen or burnt (too much) and scoops several on to a plate, from some point when she’d last made a trip to collect supplies, sprinkles a dusting of herbs atop the burgers before she turns, a palm splayed beneath the hot plate, a thumb shooing sticky strands of black hair from her brow.
Tristan receives a slow, cattish blink and then a smile. Henry a similar expression from dark eyes that seem far more interested in what she places on the table – and gains far more enjoyment perhaps, in the quality of her grilling output.
“By way of Russia,” She finishes, setting a burger into a bun with small, nimble fingers. “Decker has requested my help, and another,” Here her eyes flicker to the kin house; here there is a flash of irritation. “Jakob.”
[Decker Rohl] Decker can’t be the only one to notice the sidelong glances between the two treehuggers. But Decker is, it appears, the only one blunt enough to come out and say it.
“Fuck you two lovebirds all red in tha face fer?” And the last bite of his first, unadorned, meaty burger vanishes. He breaks his gaze away from said lovebirds to watch Maya’s progress, clearly anticipating a second, herb-sprinkled, tomato-and-lettuce-garnished burger.
[Randi Bartlett] *she continued to blush* It’s nothing, Decker. Just…..we…our whisperings…..*she thudded her head on the table* I was just asking Evan here how we should figure out the baby situation. I mean…if we should like use something or just let Gaia decide when it is our time. *she then looked to Evan* I’m still waiting for the answer.
[Evan McCollach] With AnneMarie not moving towards him at the moment, he seems to be safe, for the time being. And then he moves to grab another piece of watermelon that is not laced with watermelon schnopps. And for the time he still was not sure.
And when Decker questions both of them, he looks over to Randi and then back to Decker, stuffing the watermelon in his mouth.
“Harfre.. aretern mewaeaen bierth coalretroall.”
[Decker Rohl] Decker stares at Evan. “What tha fuck is you sayin’?”
[Randi Bartlett] *she stiffles a giggle as Evan talks with his mouth full* Oh gee, Mr Table Manners, wanna try that again? *bopping him on the back of the head, not hard but enough*
[Tristan Stern] He grins up at Maya and nods. “Awesome. Ain’t met Jakob yet. Guess that explains the extra boxers in the laundry piles though. Aw, and ain’t you a goddess…”
Plate hits the table, and Decker gets a .5 second head start for another burger before Tristan starts building his own. And buttering some corn to go with it. He’s a gnawer – and has eaten with Decker enough to know if ya want any, ya get it fast.
A glance toward the two blushing teenagers, a look up at Henry in a panic. This pretty boi knows far too much about folks procreating around town right now… it’s definite relief when it is just the pre-talks, even as he shutters and mutters toward Henry. “Better build that place fast, huh?” The midwifery building joke, of course.
Then – food. Yum. A better half would probably hand a plate to henry first. But well, drunken pretty bois aren’t necessarily always better. And Henry has long arms – he can fend for hisself.
[Evan McCollach] He looks over to Randi and then looks for another piece of watermelon, yum watermelon was good. Very good. And then it seems that Randi joins in on the question and he looks down at his plate for a moment and then over to AnneMarie.
“So you are looking for volunteers huh?”
[Randi Bartlett] *she rolled her eyes and got up, a bit miffed. Hey, only took over a year to find him, 6 to find out he even had a crush on her. Maybe they’ll have a kid together before she hits menopause. She moved over to the grill and grabbed burgers for her and Evan, grumbling under her breathe*
[AnneMarie Hoch] She just arches a brow at him with a smirk. She lifts the bottle to her lips and takes a long, slow, pull off the amber liquid before she writes on the board. Feeling cocky, are you then?
If it were out loud, or even across the totem, it would have qualified for deadpan humor.
[Maya Nevskaja] Maya, burger in her hand, levels her eyes at Randi across the table. “It is Gaia’s decision whether to grant your child gifts, it is Luna’s choice what gifts she gives –,” She delivers a plate to the Modi, checks it, lifts the bun and forces a collection of green leaves into it with a brusque motion.
“But do not be reckless enough to create a child out of laziness to use a condom.” There’s a hint of anger, a hint enough to cause the Godi’s eyes to linger longer than they should, her full lips drawing together. She bristles, then turns and begins to scrape down the grill with wince-inducing vigor.
[Henry Allard] “Better build that place fast, huh?”
There is an appreciative laugh in response. It starts out as one of those full fledged sounds that Tristan is so good at provoking, but after half a second Henry cuts it off, closes his mouth to staunch the flow of noise from his vocal cords.
“Yeah,” he finally says.
He’d be better off sitting next to the silent one, at this rate.
While the others descend upon the food, build burgers and prepare corn and sip on beers, Henry seems relieved to find out that there are not, actually, any expecting mothers in the backyard. At this point he wanders away from the table and comes to light near the gate, producing a white cigarette and setting it alight with a battered Zippo. This time the two are plopped into the pocket of his dress shirt rather than pushed into the folded hiding spot in his jeans.
It is with no small degree of fascination that he overhears the dark-haired Godi speak.
[Randi Bartlett] *As she put the fixings on her burger and then on Evan’s, she speaks.* Maya, is it? That is what I was asking Evan. Every garou and – or tribe is different. Some believe in birth control and using condoms. Some see kin as just a breeding ground to make more garou to help Gaia. I have no qualms if Evan wants to wait which means we use a condom. Or if we should not use them, and see if Gaia grants us the blessing of a child. *there was an irritation in her voice. She finished the plates, taking one to Evan and dropping it in front of him, then taking hers, and her soda, and going inside*
[Evan McCollach] Foot meet mouth, hello mouth how are you doing today? Fine thank you and yourself? Pretty good, now if only we could find away to seperate ourselves from each other. He watches Randi for a moment as she takes her soda and plate and heads inside. And then he just turns to AnneMarie and shakes his head, even if it was sarcasm or deadpan humor he still answers her.
“Not so much right now.”
And he gets up from the picnic table and follows Randi inside.
[Decker Rohl] It’s pretty obvious Randi had a preference between baby or birth control. It also seems Evan’s not in the mood to indulge her just yet. Decker, for his part, seems content to let it go. The paternal type he was not, and it was dubious if he even saw any benefit in the state at all.
Evan’s careful little insinuation, though, gets his attention. His eyes glittering behind their lazy lids, the Modi watches the byplay, even as Maya literally forces greens into his diet. Sidelong to the Godi, even as his attention stays on the other two: “‘fraid I’ma git” what was it Imogen called it? “scurvy?”
Then she’s off, scrubbing the grill angrily. He spares her a brief, curious glance; decides to let it lie. His two cents: “‘s a box’a condoms over in tha dockhouse. Help yerself.” That seems the end of the matter. He lifts the beer to his lips.
But then the totemphone comes to life: Best be fuckin’ sure yer both ready fer tha consequences if you decide you want a kid. This is Memorial Day; Decker hasn’t heard about Kemp and Nessa yet. Afterwards, he’ll be all the more vehement on this matter. For now — Don’t jus’ do it ’cause yer girl’s got rainbows ‘n pink hearts in her head ’bout the idea’a a baby. She’s, what, 17? 18? In tha end you ain’t gon’ be tha one ta take care’a it. She might not think it’s so fuckin’ great when she’s, what, cookin’ fer tha pack, goin’ ta class, goin’ ta work ‘n feedin’ a brat all at once.
[Tristan Stern] He watches, and blinks as Randi, then Evan take off after Maya’s comments, and he can’t help the chuckle as he takes another bite. To Maya. “It seems to be an epidemic round town. If I was a chick, I’d be scared to drink the damn water, round here.” pause, drink of beer, the bottom of which is pointed toward Henry before setting back down. “An half o’em want him as their midwife. Which means I’m pulling scrub nurse duty. Which is far closer then I ever wanted to be to THAT particular bit of everyday life.”
Then Decker mentions the condoms, and some memory sets him chuckling to himself. A box of Decker’s condoms, and a bored five year old little girl enamored with filling the ‘water balloons’ and dropping them off the balcony. What a mess.
“Henry – you need to eat something.” nag.
[AnneMarie Hoch] She drops the whiteboard to her thigh and wipes it clean, before she starts to make a plate for herself. She barely glances at the other’s when they leave, and doesn’t look up at Decker’s comments over the Totemphone. Her opinions on mates and children might shock some. Might not. It’s not something she volunteers her voice on, however.
[Randi Bartlett] *Inside, she sat on the couch, plate in her lap, and just stared at her food. She didn’t even look up when Evan came in. Nor was she crying or looking pissed. She was just there. She picked a bit of potato salad up with her fingers and sucked them clean*
[Henry Allard] ((Sorry, was drunk dialed!))
As an outsider, it is not his place to overhear or pay any deal of attention to what is transpiring at the table, and so as Randi defends herself and the pair disappear into the house, Henry entertains himself leaning against the fence and seeing how many smoke rings he can blow in one sitting. He is up to eight when Tristan calls over to him, attempts to goad him into putting food on a plate.
“I will,” he assures Tristan, lamely, before taking another slow drag off of his cigarette.
[Evan McCollach] He moves inside, towards Randi as she sits down on the couch just eating and picking at the food. He was unsure as how to talk right now. This was a difficult issue and unlike other issues he deals with, he was deeply involved here. This should be easy for him and yet it is probably the most difficult thing he has to do.
“Randi, are you okay?”
[Maya Nevskaja] “‘fraid I’ma git scurvy?” Decker asks, and Maya turns an expression of clipped amusement his way. “I could make use of the teeth you lose.”
That seemed to be a negative.
Every garou and – or tribe is different. Some believe in birth control and using condoms. Some see kin as just a breeding ground—Here the Godi breathes, a deep, controlled breath huffed from her nose, she does not turn to address the kinwoman, she does not turn to witness Evan leave in her wake.
Maya’s motions linger until the BBQ is (perhaps not quite) spotless and when Tristan addresses her, she is walking, her pale blue sundress shaping her thighs, the path of sunlight falling through the thin fabric to fetch another beer, to twist the top from it with surprising ease. “How many of the kinwomen are pregnant?” She asks, sipping from her bottle.
[Decker Rohl] “‘ll jus’ grow ’em back,” Decker says: the lazy surety of one who has not only never been sick, but has survived and regenerated enough shit to kill a small army.
He falls quiet then, stuffin’ his face with the second, tastier burger.
(gonna be quiet for a while and call my girl :D)
[Tristan Stern] “Ain’t just kin.” Another bite, he might chew a couple of times, before he swallows it down with the rest of his beer, before opening another. “How many we up to now, Henry? 5? Sure, ain’t seem like a lot, but well, when it happens all at once, even I get anzy. I know it’s spring and shit, but christ…”
Another bite then, as he looks over at Henry. “Don’t make me get out my phone.” the ultimate threat. He’ll get Henry to eat for sure now. There’s a lopsided grin for his better half, before he turns back to his plate and Maya. “Teeth, huh? Must be a Godi.” Yeah, the Gnawer has been hanging with the Fenrir a looooong time.
[Henry Allard] “How many we up to now, Henry? Five?”
“Four,” he corrects, smoke shot out in a straight line on the downbeat. There is a brief reprieve from the nagging, contained as it has been, and as Henry nears the end of his cigarette it comes around again, that horrid threat to call Tristan’s mother. There are few things that frighten him more than the idea of being hollered at by Mama Grace, and those few things would be awfully telling.
Without protest, Henry takes one last tug from the filter, then flicks it over the fence and tramps back to the table, where he grabs a plate and silverware before plunking himself down next to Tristan.
[Maya Nevskaja] There are signs of her moon.
The small feather that hangs from her neck, beaded among what resemble an animal’s teeth, smooth and pointed. The adornments on her wrists, her ankles. The particular care she takes to make up each eye, and the overwhelming sensation that Maya was, on occasion, simply seeing something beyond or sometimes even through you that was incomprehensible to any but herself.
Oh yes, Godi indeed.
She crosses one leg beneath her when she sits herself down across from the kin; one bared knee rests against the table as she picks at a burger, cutting pieces of meat with a knife. “Cliath Godi,” She corrects, amends, and with a glance at the pair in turn, offers with a gulp of her beer. “Courts the Storm’s Eye. How long have you been with the Eagles?”
[Tristan Stern] Oh that grin – THAT one right there – is nothing but smug as Henry joins them at the table. Yes, he’ll keep using the threat until Henry has a little bit of meat on his bones, or at least doesn’t look like the wind will blow him away as he works himself to death. A nudge of his knee against Henry’s under the table, before his attention is drawn back to the conversation at hand, and his own plate. And rapidly disappearing beer.
He chuckles and shrugs with the addition of her rank to the knowledge. “Good to know.” Then his grin warms – even if somewhere under there, deep in his eyes is a sense of loss. “Hooked up with the Eagles back in Jersey, what…” pause. “4 years ago? 5? A long time anyway. My bro, James, was one of the originals.” ah. There’s the reason for the loss. Nothings quite so bad as not knowing… as wondering. “He’s still out there somewhere, on quest.” Close enough anyway.
Anyway. “And I’m Gnawer by the way of NYC. Was headed home when I hooked up with James and then the Eagles, and been with them ever since. Henry, here, is technically claimed by other folks.” further explanation he leaves to the Coggie.
[AnneMarie Hoch] AnneMarie is still quiet. Bit shock. It seems to be a prerequisite of the Eagles, that many don’t talk much. She simply listens, and works her way through her plate of food.
[Henry Allard] It is with some degree of trepidation that Henry eyes the liquid level of Tristan’s second beer. Hardly his second beer all day, just the second since they have arrived, and it is quickly heading the way of its predecessor. This draws a closed-lipped smile (more of a grimace, really, but that is difficult to translate if one is not well-versed in the language of Henry’s facial expressions) out of the paramedic, who stares at the spread of food on the table before heaving an inaudible sigh and moving to slop potato salad onto his plate.
Beneath the illumination of the sun, nearly all of the bones in Henry’s hands are visible, every last one, every joint, the lattice work protected by layers of skin and held together by tendons, muscles assumed rather than detected. Were it not for the fact that they are scarred to hell and back, they might be described as pianist’s hands. But they are, and they can’t be. They are not pretty hands, not the way Tristan’s are. His hands are built to save lives, not to enrich them. His wrists are likewise exposed, the ends of his ulnas pushing out in knobs, and onward up his forearms. This is where the majority of the weight has been lost in the last few weeks, his arms and his legs. The rest of him has been spared.
When Tristan’s speech leads him to Henry’s status, it is lost on the kinsman that this is where he’s supposed to interject, tell his story. There is a moment of silence after the Gnawer has finished speaking that leaves Henry pushing at the food on his plate with a fork, and when he realizes they’re waiting on him to say something he clears his throat and reaches over to pull a fresh beer from the cardboard sleeve.
“Technically.”
An amazing conversationalist, this one is.
[Henry Allard] ((Jamie needs sleepies. Thanks for the scene, all!))
[Evan McCollach] Unlike when the newly mated couple entered the house as two seperate individuals, Randi and Evan following. They come out once again hand in hand, a smile painted on Evan’s face. It seemed that whatever they spoke about was now dealt with. And as he approached the rest of the group he just smirked.
“Now this is a BBQ, a memorial day BBQ, someone has to have some memories to share. Something worthwhile. AnneMarie, I am sure you are full of wonderful stories care to share one?”
It seemed a joke, but he was actually just watching her and waiting for a response
[Evan McCollach] (Have a good night Jamie)
[Randi Bartlett] *she kissed his cheek when they got to the table and took her plate from him. She sat and began to eat her cold burger, but her mind and conscious felt better. As they waited for AM’s response, she whispered to Evan* Think maybe I can patrol with you one night?
[AnneMarie Hoch] She arches a brow, slight, but doesn’t reach for her white board again. She takes another bite of her burger, and chews slowly. It seems she is not the story telling type. Go figure.
Maya excuses herself to do something. Decker is silent. And the boys are drinking, and Randi wants to patrol. And through it all, there is nothing but the steady gaze and slow finishing of her meal.
[Tristan Stern] Randi and Evan return, right about the time that Henry’s phone goes off. Every one can hear the loud party at the other side, and Tristan grins. “Whoops – we’re late getting back.” He grabs his plate and loads it up again with a chuckle, before standing and waving to everyone. “We were supposed to bring more beer. Ya’ll be good, huh?”
And with that, and Henry’s soft goodbyes, the two kinfolk make their way out and back home where the firefighters and paramedics are thirsty.
[AnneMarie Hoch] (Whew. one window again. *L*)
[Randi Bartlett] ((*L*))
[Decker Rohl] “I got one,” Decker speaks up abruptly, having finished his burger. Wiping his hands on his pants, he sets the plate aside and washes that last mouthful down with the last of his beer.
He shifts his ass on the picnic table, hunkering forward, elbows on his knees. Clears his throat, pulls up another beer.
[Randi Bartlett] ((Should we just call it? I’m sure everyone is getting tired. ))
[Decker Rohl] (what!)
[Randi Bartlett] ((Nevermind!))
[Randi Bartlett] ((Thought you were still on the phone with your girl))
[Decker Rohl] (just got off. heh.)
“Five years ago in September, Rotagar named Erik Blood-Eagle called together me, James, Luc, Livin’ston ‘n Rune. We met each other fuckin’ ’round in Jersey. We’d all gone there fer diff’rent reasons, but mostly ’cause Jersey was out in tha middle’a nowhere. No caern, no sept. No respons’bilities, ‘guess. We was jus’ driftin’ ‘n we somehow drifted together. Made more’a ourselves than we was maybe even expectin’ ta.
“We crossed over that night. Livin’ston called Great Eagle ‘n he binded us. Erik Blood-Eagle was our Alpha. First Alpha’a tha Eagles. Rune was his Beta. James was our PR man. Luc was our Skald. Livin’ston was our Theurge ‘n I was jus’ some fucktard eighteen year old kid, barely Fostern. That was tha pack. That’s how we started.
“Years went by ‘n one by one they all left. Moved on. Tha Eagles grew ‘n shrank. Old packmates come ‘n gone. New packmates come ‘n gone. But Eagle’s still here, ‘n I’m still here.”
A hint of wryness there. He takes a pull of beer.
“Guess there ain’t much more ta say ’bout it. Here’s ta Erik, Rune, James, Livin’ston, ‘n Luc.”
[Evan McCollach] At Decker’s toast of the original packmates of the Eagles, the might of the Eagles and what they once were, are and will be.
“To the first Eagles”
[AnneMarie Hoch] She listens to Decker as he tells of the original Eagles, and the way the wryness pulls at his lips, at his words. She reaches forward to grab her beer then, and lifts it in toast to the Eagles of the past, wherever they may roam.
She sets the bottle down again after a swallow of the amber liquid, yet still doesn’t reach for her whiteboard, or offer a story herself.
[Randi Bartlett] *she lifted her soda* Here here! *she smiled brightly. Then she nudged Evan* COme on, you remember all the stories my granddad use to tell us, and our dads. Think of one.
[Evan McCollach] He looks over at her Randi when she nudges him to tell a story. He was born silver fang there were several tales to tell of his line. He nodded when she spoke and just thought about it.
“Well yes. This is the story about my great grandmother. One of the many times the Sept of the Guided Hand was in great danger. She was a known Theurge and was well liked by spirits of weather and elements. And when the total force of a hive was going to come through the valley, she and her pack pleaded with the spirits to aid them.”
He looked at the can of soda as the condensation started to gather along it side, just watching it fall.
“The spirits of the rain came to her aid and outside the Caern they stood. She and her pack, their gnosis given over, called down the rain on the fallen ones. But not just any rain, silver rain. It hit the assualt force like a thousands knifes falling from the sky. Those that survived were easy pickings for the ahrouns of the Sept. But her and her pack died, killed by the rain. From then on she was known as “She~Who~Calls~Down~The~Silver~Rain”
He raised his drink in a toast as well.
“To her and all those who made the greatest sacrifice to defend Gaia and everything she represents.”
[Randi Bartlett] *she listened to his story and nodded. It was one of many her grandfather has told as well because he was there to see it and had the scars to prove it. She laid her head on his shoulder for a mere moment then raised her soda can* To those that have fallen so others may live.
[Randi Bartlett] ((Ok, I hate to do this, but I was just reminded it is 130 in the morning and I have to be up in 5 hours for a CoD2 team meeting. Hopefully we can do this again. I had a blast))
[Evan McCollach] (Okay, thank you for the scenage. It was fun)
[AnneMarie Hoch] She doesn’t tell a story. She is no Skald. In fact, she finishes her beer, stands, and tucks her whiteboard away. A nod up, and she heads inside.
Presumably, it is time for patrols once again.
(I’m out too ya’ll! night!)
[Randi Bartlett] ((*hugs to all* Night!))
[Decker Rohl] (*LOL* no prob, i gotta jet too)
“To yer great-grandma,” Decker says. They sat far from one another, sprawled across the yard; in lieu of clinking glasses (or bottles), the Modi simply lifts his, then takes a gulp.
Silence. Decker sips his beer, downing it slower now. The last of the meat is grilled; the grill is off, and the food is cooling. Plenty of leftovers. Barbecue for days to come. Ain’t gonna complain about that.
“Good food,” he pronounces at last, surveying the table. Must be some sort of backhanded thank-you to Randi, or perhaps to the pack in general. And, without much further in the way of goodbyes, he too pushes off the table and heads off.
[Decker Rohl] (we oughta do this more often. night folks!)