The kinwoman glances down the road as she steps out of her car, looking for the kin-come-Garou’s large truck, as she closes her car door. By the time Decker hears the slam – sensitive ears, after all, he knows that they have arrived and that the kinwoman has taken her poor quality American car rather than the Aston Martin.
Then again, he knew that by the car’s engine.
She walks up toward the front door of the dockhouse, and there is something deliberate in the way she allows Evan to open the door.
[Imogen M. Slaughter] (ahem: kin-cum-Garou. To be accurate and specific and correct and nit picky.)
[Evan McCollach] (If we get nit-picky, its Imogen and Evan *smirks*)
[Imogen M. Slaughter] (( Would you believe that I caught it the second time and was SO PROUD that I got it? ahem. *will post corrected post, now.*))
[Imogen M. Slaughter] t’s not long before the dodge pulls up in front of the dockhouse, the engine rattling as it dies – almost literally. They had lost Alaric at some point, a disagreement over directions, and by virtue of a shorter path or traffic or a higher speed limit, Imogen and Evan make it there first.
The kinwoman glances down the road as she steps out of her car, looking for the kin-or-Garou-orwhateverthehell’s large truck, as she closes her car door. By the time Decker hears the slam – sensitive ears, after all, he knows that they have arrived and that the kinwoman has taken her poor quality American car rather than the Aston Martin.
Then again, he knew that by the car’s engine.
She walks up toward the front door of the dockhouse, and there is something deliberate in the way she allows Evan to open the door.
[Evan McCollach] He doesn’t seem to wait once the dodge is stopped, nor did he really wait for Imogen to get put of the car. This situation was something he had never seen before, something he didn’t know about ever before.
He needed to pick Decker’s brain about this and if Maya was there, her’s as well. He was not a Get nor Theurge and therefore dealing with the Great Wolf was something he was not very aware of. Decker spoke about how the fimbul wolves once taught him a way to spit venom by actually forcing the vemon into his very veins. And if they were only the vanguard of the Fernis himself, then giving a kin the ability to be a garou is something else.
And that is shown in his step, he moved to the door fairly quickly, opening the dockhouse door without even pausing. Looking for whatever packmates would have hearld his call.
[Silence] Ninety.
Decker gets a certain vindictive pleasure out of this last gasp of summer. And what a last gasp it is, hot and humid, with great puffy white clouds drifting lazily across the sky.
Not the best weather for what he’d been doing though — which is dragging his homemade sled around. Call it a workout. A few concrete blocks have been added to the stacks of shingles on the sled-bed. The rut in the sandy soil and gravel is deeper now, worn in by dozens, maybe hundreds, of repetitions, and by the enormous weight itself. The backpack-strap harness has been further padded with a layer of blanket on each shoulder.
When the ‘call’ came on totemphone, he’d dropped the harness in the dirt, left the sled in the middle of its figure-eight track. He’d gone inside for a shower — a matter of opening a standing pipe in the boat-canals in the ground, and standing in the path of the blast of cold water.
When Imogen’s crappy old Dodge pulls up, he’s reasonably clean, dressed. Baggy cargoes, wifebeater. Dogs’ ears perk up when their owners come home, and they go running out to greet them. Decker — well, he’s not a dog, and Imogen is not his owner. He doesn’t run out to greet her, but he does make his way over to the dockhouse door.
Evan isn’t allowed a chance to open the door. It flies open in his face.
“He here?” — looking over their shoulders.
[Evan McCollach] (dammit I will brb)
[Imogen M. Slaughter] She comes up behind Evan, having approached at a less hectic pace than the Philodox. She must look at Silence over the Child of Gaia’s shoulder, but she does answer, “Provided he’s still on his way,” she says, “he’s behind us. He took a turn at Fifth – there’s construction tha’ way.”
[Silence] “Yeah?” he steps aside to let them in. It’s hot outside, but his rage makes the interior seem worse. He watches Evan make his way in, and then he looks at Imogen. “Ev says he’s a Garou now. Not a skindancer. There anythin’ else I oughta know?”
[Imogen M. Slaughter] The debriefing is, by necessity, quick. Imogen does not waste time as she follows Evan inside. “He paid a price fer this. I asked him what – and he said tha’ it was personal, never you mind.” One hand passes over her hair, pushing strands back from her face.
“He doesn’t feel like any Garou I’ve ever met – ” though she’s recognized a Garou at several hundred yards, at least once. “But it might be due t’th’nature o’ his change.”
A pause – a consideration and her only hesitation. “And if I were gi’en my greatest wish as he says he has, I would not have prevaricated as he has.”
[Silence] “Tha nature’a his change,” Decker repeats. “He say anythin’ else ’bout it? Other than payin’ a price?”
[Ruhiger] She is not far behind the others, and the door has barely closed before she opens it again and ducks inside. Silent by necessity, and also – now, by choice. An out of the way corner, and she leans against the wall, and listens.
[Ruhiger] Just got this from Ken –
SandmanSDMF: One of my coworkers called out so i have to stay at work. This is bullshit.
to Evan McCollach, Imogen M. Slaughter, Silence
[Silence] (grrr. did he say for how long?)
to Evan McCollach, Imogen M. Slaughter, Ruhiger
[Ruhiger] (nope, that was it, then he logged off.)
to Evan McCollach, Imogen M. Slaughter, Silence
[Imogen M. Slaughter] Ruhiger enters, and Imogen’s eyes straif to follow her – blue, before her gaze returns to the Fenrir who calls her mate. “He said tha’ he could not stand bein’ kin anymore. Tha’ Fenris granted his plea and that the Fenrir would ha’ t’accept it. That he would bring glory t’his family name. Talked ’bout his brother, a Garou who died.”
[Silence] (well, that fucking sucks. ok, well, let’s play without him. mostly i wanted to get the pack reactions, anyway, since there’s little diagnostic work decker can actually do, other than talk to him — and i think at this point decker doesn’t wanna tip his hand yet. if the scene comes to a natural close and he’s not here we can just reschedule or forums it.)
to Evan McCollach, Imogen M. Slaughter, Ruhiger
[Imogen M. Slaughter] (we should probably stop this, then. heh. and reschedule.)
to Evan McCollach, Ruhiger, Silence
[Ruhiger] (*L* glad we’re all in agreement then. (ducks!))
to Evan McCollach, Imogen M. Slaughter, Silence
[Silence] (let’s keep playing.)
to Evan McCollach, Imogen M. Slaughter, Ruhiger
[Silence] (…for an hour, since alaric won’t take forever *LOL*)
to Evan McCollach, Imogen M. Slaughter, Ruhiger
[Imogen M. Slaughter] (( Yeah. I’m gonna say they have a limited time before Alaric shows up, so that’s an hour for us, playing time. One of the IC challenges is Alaric is showing up soon, and trying to get as much opinion and information out before that. ))
to Evan McCollach, Ruhiger, Silence
[Evan McCollach] (Back. And I think it would be possible they have a short scene while waiting for Alaric)
[Silence] Decker takes it in without saying anything, staring at first at Imogen, then at the ground. The door shuts behind them. It’s dimmer in the dockhouse, the only light filtering in from dusty windows, grime-caked skylights. There’s a line between his eyebrows, seeming deeper in the oblique light.
“So,” he says after some thought, his grey eyes flicking between the two that had been in the presence of the kin, “what do you think? He strike a bargain with tha devil ‘r what?”
[Imogen M. Slaughter] (*grin* Yes. We have one hour, starting now.)
[Evan McCollach] “I don;t know much about Fernis or spiritual dealings, not as much as would be necessary to uncover what is in this situation. But to grant a kinfolk the ability to become garou without some major and significant achievement is impossible in my opinion. Well that is without some obscure ritual or other horrific shortcut. I mean there is little that a kinfolk can do in the eyes of the spiritual world that would have them recognized”
[Imogen M. Slaughter] Imogen’s gaze flicks to Evan as he speaks – her gaze is even as he speaks of a kin’s inability to be recognized. If she finds this conversation to be an unpleasant reminder of her place, it does not show. Little does. It’s hot inside the dockhouse, unair conditioned and no open windows to let in the breeze. The kinwoman slides off her corduroy jacket as she speaks.
“The only times I ha’ heard o’ kinfolk attemptin’ t’ become Garou – success or fail – it has involved betrayal.” She folds her coat over her arm, drawing her hand close to her body. The heat is abruptly more tolerable, but still present – like a heavy wet blanket.
“And if Fenris was in th’habit o’ offerin’ the ability t’change fer every impassioned plea by every worthy kinfolk, I daresay yer tribe would ha’ suffered for it.” This last directed to Silence and Ruhiger, only, entirely without humour.
[Ruhiger] AnneMarie tucks her hands into the pockets of her slacks, and listens, as her eyes flick from each speaker’s face to the next. She has not heard of such a thing – that much could be garnered from her continued silence.
That she takes a good measure of blame for this situation – warranted or not, is perhaps only visible in the shadows deep in her gaze. Otherwise, it’s SOP, for the Modi.
[Silence] Decker looks at Evan when he speaks, and Imogen when she speaks. It’s oppressively hot in the dockhouse, stuffy and dark and humid. His eyes flick down to the kinwoman’s body as she removes her jacket and, as though reminded, he pulls his shirt away from his body, lets it snap back. Five minutes after a cold-water shower and his skin felt sticky again.
Imogen isn’t joking. Decker isn’t laughing. He’s acutely aware of the passing seconds. As they go on with their reasoning and their thoughts, he has to bite back on his innate impatience. They weren’t wasting words, but he still felt like they were all wasting time.
“So. None’a y’all have heard’a kin turnin’ Garou like this, ‘cept it bein’ somethin’ bad. But y’all ain’t seen nothin’ to make you think Alaric’s tainted — yet. Yeah?
“Y’ain’t noticed nothin’ like this?” — Decker turns abruptly to Ruhiger. “He ain’t seemed diff’rent to ya when you went by? Be sure.”
[Evan McCollach] “I can feel something odd in him. It is more than just his first change. He is just… the fire that burns within him, that rage, it feels odd and seems to burn a bit hotter than even yours Decker.”
the sweat was starting to bead on his forehead, dripping down and over his eyes. He did not like the heat that much, it was stiffling. It made it harder to concentrate, made it harder to breath.
“I am not sure if he has ever seen Fernis or any spirit before, but Alaric desperately believes that he was given this by Fernis. There have been stories of individuals who have been granted garouship, lore really. But that was after extreme hardship and trial, epic journies that are recorded in the Silver Record. If Alaric did something like that, it would not have escaped our notice.”
[Ruhiger] Be sure he says, and she flinches – just barely. No more then a tightening of her spine, a straightening of her shoulders. That it happened, however, tells much… that her own thoughts had been on that very subject is obvious. That she is attempting to find something, anything, that she missed, is clear in her face. She shakes her head, slowly.
Nothing. He was as he always has been. Abrasive, irritated, and just returned from camping, hunting, as I explained. As he has done before. There was no rage in him. None. Nothing that was off, at all. It had to have happened between my visit, and theirs. I would not have missed this, Silence. I am certain.
She meets his gaze at the last, and her eyes read true – she would not have missed this. He was still normal when she saw him at his apartment.
[Imogen M. Slaughter] Decker shifts, pulls his shirt from hsi body – Imogen’s eyes shift briefly, then refocus. None of them have seen anything to make them think Alaric is tainted. She inclines her head, a brief nod downward, and says nothing more.
Silence’s question is thrown abruptly to Ruhiger – and an answer comes across a totem link, one that she can no longer hear, but is aware of the communication all the same. It’s in their eyes, in the silence. Imogen’s weight shifts in the silence and she does nothing to break it, her gaze turning away to glance toward the door.
[Silence] Ruhiger begins to reply, and Decker’s mindvoice cuts her off.
Stop.
The Modi crosses the room in long strides. Abrasive, irritated: sounds just like him. He grabs up a rumpled newspaper (crossword page), snaps it once to smooth it, snatches up a big black marker in the other hand. If Ruhiger hasn’t produced her whiteboard by now, he shoves these implements at her.
“Write.”
And after she does, he glances at it, a muscle moving in his jaw as he tongues a molar. Then his attention is back on the Philodox and the kinwoman, “He look like he been campin’ again?” A glance at Ruhiger, “‘r say where he went?”
[Ruhiger] Stop. he says. Write. She blinks, glances at Imogen, and then nods, lifting her hand briefly to rub at her temple. By the time He has found the big pen, she has pulled out the whiteboard and written the same train of thought…
adding only. ~My apologies, Imogen.~
[Evan McCollach] “He said he was out in the woods, training himself. I saw no signs of anything around his apartment that would point out him ever marking up his place. And I find that incredibly odd, for someone who just got this ability and had so much rage within him.”
And then he ponders something else.
“Between teh time AnneMarie went to see him, and Imogen and I, there was not enough time for him to do any remarkable feat. And I doubt AnneMarie could have missed this. It is impossible for him to hide such fire. I only used my gifts to ensure that it was Alaric and not something else. As for him being in the woods, he said he was.”
[Silence] “Where. Did he say where?”
[Imogen M. Slaughter] The interplay between Alpha and packmate provokes little reaction – which is not to say that she does not pay attention. Her gaze follows, but her face does not react. The kin simply steps forward to read the mute’s writing over her shoulder.
My apologies, Imogen. The redhead only shakes her head, straightening. By this time, Evan has answered Decker’s question and Decker has fired it back again. Her voice is considerably less intense than his – lacking in inflection.
“Fifty miles nor’ of the city, past a small town. S’off road – he had t’use his four wheel drive t’get there. Somewhere isolated – he said tha’ he went there fer peace and quiet.” A pause, before she adds, “He’ll show me. I told him tha’ I needed some isolation o’ my own.”
[Silence] He’ll show me– “No.” Absolute. “Anyhow, if he brings ya, he’ll clean up anythin’ he don’t want us ta see. One’a tha pack kin go up there ‘lone, have a sniff around. See if they find anythin’.” A pause. “You told him you needed some isolation?” Another pause. “This before ‘r after he knew you knew he was Garou?”
[Evan McCollach] When Imogen spoke about exactly where he said he went, Evan just watched her. He did leave Imogen and Alaric alone for a few moments and that did give Imogen some time to get info out of him that he would not be able to.
“Like AnneMarie said, he was abrasive and irrated. He did not want to seem to even speak with me. When I said he had to come back to the dockhouse, that there were tainted wolves that were out and about. He was looking to pick a fight with me , looking to be insubordinate.”
[Imogen M. Slaughter] No, Decker says. “Then find another way,” a thread of steel slides across her voice. “I asked him fer directions and he said it was better t’show.”
This before or after?
“Before.”
[Silence] He was looking to be insubordinate, Evan says. Decker glances at him; if there was any chance that he might’ve considered letting Imogen go out to the campsite alone it was gone now. Unstable, rage-filled, kin-turned-Garou, looking to pick a fight. The image in his head was getting worse and worse.
“‘n after? He still wanna show’n’tell?”
[Imogen M. Slaughter] She shakes her head, “I didn’t exactly ha’ the opportunity t’follow up.”
[Imogen M. Slaughter] (four minute warning. No pressure. *grin*)
[Evan McCollach] “That is my fault, I didn’t want to leave us in that situation. If he did go for a fight, he would have had significant advantages with his rage and knowing his own apartment better than I. I wanted to get us out of there as soon as possible.”
[Silence] “Too fuckin’ early fer tha martyr act, Ev.” Too fucking late for this conversation, too — they can hear Alaric’s truck pulling up. Decker keeps his voice low, speaking quickly but clearly, “Don’t act suspicious ‘r nothin’. ‘s talk ta ‘im, see where it goes. We don’t act ’til we know what his bargain was, ‘n if he ain’t open ta tellin’ us, don’t push it. Understand?”
[Imogen M. Slaughter] (And that’s it.)
[Silence] (heh — edit! i thought i’d have time for one more back and forth. tack this to the end–)
“AnneMarie, git outta here. Take the Umbra. Looks too fuckin’ suspicious, all’a us standin’ ’round waitin’ fer him. Might send you two off too — ” the car engine dies outside, and Decker shuts up, going to get himself a beer from the icebox.
[Imogen M. Slaughter] (( and I guess we’ll have to reschedule the rest! Thanks for the scene, guys. ))
[Ruhiger] Get out of here, he says, and she doesn’t ask twice, though it will weigh on her mind later. Instead, reflection found – she’s gone.
[Silence] (so — let’s go back on the forums and see if we should try to reschedule a time, or just do it on the forums. i’m still in favor of doing it “live”. you guys have a time preference, while we’re all here?)
[Imogen M. Slaughter] (Tomorrow at 7pm, apparently would work.)
[Ruhiger] (clearly no need for me to state a preference. Later ya’ll – back to work for me!)