[Kemp Oates]
Once more he was lingering across the road from the packhouse, watching from the shadows of one of the buildings across the way. Odds were good if I tank pulled up he apparently would not notice it. Might even cross in front of the damned thing and get run over.
[Schmetterling Rohl]
A shortcut. She’s got her everpresent backpack on , poor ratty thing. Eventually she will have to acquire another, maybe tomorrow if it gives up whichever precious thread is holding the thing together. Still, maybe it wil have plenty of life left in it. The attitude of childhood privation. Sort of child-hood, at least. Teen hood.
She’s got a plastic back tucked over it to keep the water off, none on her, and after her walk from the bus stop she’s close to drenched at least in places not coverd by the jacket she’s borrowed from one of the closets at the packhouse.
Her hair is darker than usual where it escapes from a Cubs ballcap (haha! isnt that funny!), lying in soggy strands along her neck.
Where is she specifically? Entering Kemp’s alley on the way to the packhouse. SHortcut!
[Kemp Oates]
He heard the change in the patterns around him. A change in the echo of traffic. A change in the pattering of rain as it fell between the two buildings to hit the pavement, trash and puddles that gathered there. Slowly turning his head with a narrowed look in the gloom as he stood with one shoulder resting against the rough brick of the alleyway. Rain soaked as he ignored the way it dripped off the end of his nose. Slowly his attention shifted back towards the road and building across the way. Hopefully Ling would have enough sense not to leap on his back this time. At least this time, he knew she was back there.
[Sandra Davenport]
There’s another sound that is added to the afternoon on the riverfront; a beat to shit 78 honda civic that looks to be held together by chewing gum and baling wire – and not a small amount of duct tape. She’d taken a wrong turn, and now nurses her complaining engine through the streets until the inevitable happens. A loud backfire that sounds like a gunshot crack, and… it dies. She tries to turn it over again and again and finally just lays her forhead on the steering wheel and curses under her breath.
[Kemp Oates]
The sound of the backfire had his head snapping around to search the street for a second until he spotted the old Honda held together with redneck bondo. The tension flowing out of his body again once he figured out it had not be a gun shot.
[Schmetterling Rohl]
Her long legs take her through the alley fairly quickly, feet not even bothering to avoid puddles now. From the knees down, she’s drenched, and along one side of her body, wiht what mud hasn’t been washed away yet by the rain. She was cold, awhile back, but her breathing is heavy from effort, her face red as if she’s been working very, very hard. The cold is pushed to the back of her mind, focused enough on getting home that she’s nearly to Kemp before she takes a neccesary sidestep past something only half-submerged in her path, doesnt see him till about a step and a half away.
Why didnt’ she see the man standing there?? Was it the gunshot she heard? The thought occurs after she takes a sudden lunging backwards in sheer startlement, her eyes wide and a familiar blue color as the man’s identity filters in to her brain in its own time.
No, she doesn’t run into him. Was it that close?
[Sandra Davenport]
She pushes the door open, hitting it until it finally agrees to do so with a complaining squalk of metal against metal, and climbs out of the car. She’s not a pretty girl, Sandra. In fact, she’s too far on the plain side to be remarkable in any way. No makeup, no hip clothing, no model-esque figure, and nothing that makes her stand out in a normal crowd. She is a wall-flower; a glasses-wearing, hair that borders on mousy, strong jawed, not quite chubby but sure not thin (Healthy, we’ll call it), easily forgotten wall-flower.
But for one thing. Her blood tells tales that her visage does not, that of heroes born and heroes died, battles won and victories celebrated. Her blood tells tales her looks do not – she is a child of Fenrir, bred pure.
But it is easy to forget for most, as she tugs her shirt down over the jeans, and stalks to the front of the car to fight with the hood to get it open and propped up. So she can look at it, and scowl. Like she had any indication what might be wrong.
[Kemp Oates]
His head jerked around again fast enough to sling water outwards from the ends of the shaggy longish mass of dark hair. One dark brow rose slowly as he watched Ling. He still didn’t get the butterfly reference. Maybe Girrafe, but then again, what did he know? He hadn’t named her. His thoughts drifting along this lazy line as he watched the Kin until the loud squeal of the door sounded out on the street. Only after the squeal did he slowly turn his attention back towards the Honda with a snorted.
“Heh.”
[Schmetterling Rohl]
Kemp. The alarm in her eyes fades, though her heart might be racing for a little while longer. The hand that was reaching under her jacket for something reemerges empty, and she offers a throaty “Hi Kemp” instead, a quiet few words.
He’s watching somethign though, and her gaze follows. Some reason he;s out here in the alley instead of in the packhouse? in the wet?
[Sandra Davenport]
“Shit.” It’s soft, the curseword, like she’s afriad she’ll be heard and get in trouble for it. She goes to the door again, and leans inside to grab her bag, and starts the search for a cell phone.
[Kemp Oates]
Another glance towareds Ling without a word before he looked back towards the car and girl. The rain had turned to drizzle and stopped for the moment. With the added cloud cover and coming night, it was gloomy as hell out. Tilting his head slightly as the girl leaned inside the car and another.
“Heh.”
Came out.
[Schmetterling Rohl]
Hell, all Ling can tell is that there’s a woman with car troubles out there, in a not-so-great neighborhood. She murmers to Kemp, “any reason i shouldn’t help her?” And takes a step forward, then waits for his answer. Since he seems to be studying her for some reason.
Water beads on her face, rolls down and is lost amidst the rest of the sogginess.
[Sandra Davenport]
She finds the phone, and hits two buttons. A garage on speed dial? Clearly this is something that happens often. She turns to lean a hip against the dirty fender of the car, her hand pulling through mousy hair before pushing up her glasses, and then falling to wrap around her stomach.
“Hi Jer. Yeah, I know! No, I didn’t pop the stupid clutch, it just backfired and quit and now it… yeah. I probably flooded it again. I don’t know! I’m not in a good area of the city, and all and… yeah. yeah. fine. Fine, I said! I’ll call back.”
She flips the phone closed and shoves it in her pocket, before hauling off and kicking the already dented fender. Apparently that’s not new either.
[Kemp Oates]
One shoulder lifted in a shrug of indifference with Ling’s question. Finally he spoke.
“Heh, Kin. Go for it if ya want, I ain’t your daddy.”
[Moira Tasgall]
A slamming of a door, the sound loudly ricochets off the walls of a building as it erupts from the back of the kin-designated pack house, the back door that exits from the kitchen groaned on its hinges as it closed. A few minutes later, a figure emerges from the side of the building, glancing around the street first, before tilting her head back to peer up at the cloudy sky. The light drizzles of rain splashing onto her forehead and slips down into her eyes. She brings a hand up to wipe it away from her eyes, shaking her head as it starts to clear up.
She steps out into the sidewalk, her back to the old office building she departs from, occupying herself with the task of shoving some long object into her backpack as she walked. A black long coat draped across her slim frame, shielding her from the harsh elements of rain and cold winds. The soft leather of her combat boots soaking in the wetness of puddles when she splashes through them.
[Schmetterling Rohl]
“Wow. Like.. kin delivery service or something.” She grins, walks out with sure steps now, no more clumsy woman. Mousy kin. Hell, Ling remmebers damned well what that was like. Not so long ago either. She moves up to the woman, offers a helpful (if possibly intimidatingly lovely) smile.
“You ok?” Her voice is deep, husky, and accented oddly. The rest of her 6’1″ self is sheer valkyrie if in soggy and a littel muddy thrift-store finds.
[Sandra Davenport]
Blue eyes blink behind the glasses, and she drops her head instantly, shoving her glasses up her nose, only to have them slide again, and hiding behind her hair. “I’m fine. Probably just flooded it. It should start again soon.”
She hopes.
[Schmetterling Rohl]
Flooded. Car-illiterate, she nods blankly wiht no understanding. “You got someone you can call?” As if she wasnt just watching the girl call someone. The accent defines itself more, someting foreign and Germanic and a bit of somethign guttery and ahh Minnesota. Of all places.
[Sandra Davenport]
Her voice is as plain as the rest of her, really. She nods, and hugs herself a little tighter. “Yeah, called already. Gotta try the car again in a few, then I’ll call him back if needed.
[Kemp Oates]
His gaze swept towards the flicker of movement just before Moira appeared to start down the sidewalk. He’d gotten her message. Not bothering the girl as he heaved a deep breath and stepped out in the open to approach the car and two Kin in a lazy prowl. Splashing through puddles along the way. Jeans plastered to his thighs. Jacket hanging open and sodden over a dark tee that stuck to him wetly.
“Heh, old carb. Probably needs a good cleaning along with the fuel line.”
Inhaling a couple times sharply.
“Flooded alright. It will evaporate before too long.”
[Schmetterling Rohl]
“Not the best neighborhood. If you want, i’ll stick around, till you get going or someone comes.” A helpful offer. “What’s..”
But Kemp comes up, says Car Things, none of which Schmetterling understands exept for the bit about floods evaporating, cause she KNOWS water can evaporate. Like milk.
“what’s your name?”
[Sandra Davenport]
She jerks her head up as someone else approaches, her eyes widening behind her glasses, before she drops her gaze, rubbing her arms where the hair is standing at sudden attention. She manages a slight, nervous smile. “Old car.” Not many people drive a car that’s almost 30 years old, after all. Especially a civic.
She nods though, and manages a soft “thanks.” before glancing up at Ling and Kemp, both of whom tower over the short, stocky girl. “Sandra. Sandra Davenpot.”
[Schmetterling Rohl]
She nods, offers a hand, a hand with a strong but not crushign grip. “Schmetterling Rohl. Ling, if you don’t got German.” Ok well Ling had been mousy too, but ahh also a little bully. Sandra is a curiosity for more than her bloodline. Bright, flower-blue eyes regard the woman appraisingly, though not coldly.
Cold would refer to her feet, if she still remembered she had feet.
“You got family in town? Someone to work on the car for you?”
She’s speaking. Actually speaking to a stranger, and in full and plural sentances, but then, wierder things have happened.
[Kemp Oates]
He was tall and lanky and still growing it seemed at 6’3″. Soaked right now as his green gaze drifted over Sandra. Homid and the rain dampened his sense of smell, so he stepped in closer to lean down and inhale.
“Heh. Some consider it a classic if restored. These older models weren’t made for unleaded, causes performance problems and as ya know, carb problems. Then again, this one done seen better days. Putting more in the air than it should.”
Straightening back up as his eyes as dark as moss on the bottom of a pond, drifed over Sandra still.
“Kemp Oates.”
Muttering to Ling.
“She couldn’t be safer where she stands now.”
[Sandra Davenport]
“Pleasure.” She shakes the hand offered, and hides a slight grin under her hair at Kemp’s words. She does feel better with people close, but it remains to be seen how long that will last.
“My dad always wanted to restore it, but never got a chance. I keep meaning to save up for it, but school and all..”
A pause, and she shrugs, leaning back against the dirty car. Feeling better for something solid at her back. They’re both so TALL. “Not family, no. But I have a guy who’s kept baby – thats what I call her – running since i got here.”
[Moira Tasgall]
It’s not long before Moira has crossed the street, beginning to head in the direction of the small group standing around the old Honda Civic. Her head comes up to catch sight of two tall and unmistakable forms. Ling sliding into her line of sight first as being the most recognizable, before it shifts down to Sandra and then eventually, Kemp.
This makes Moira stop dead on the sidewalk. She stares at all them, unable to make out bits of conversation, though could guess it might have been about the car, or not. She brushes a hand against the side of her coat, shedding some of the rain from the material.
She bites on the corner of her lips, thinking about her next actions.
[Schmetterling Rohl]
Well yeah, no shit, but she wasn’t sure she was supposed to just come right out and say that. Ling goes silent, letting Kemp speak with the woman,watchign instead to learn how to handle meeting new kinfolk. This is what she really needs to be learning, not all that book stuff.
[Kemp Oates]
“She’s got family here, she might not know it, but she does.”
Quirking a brow at Ling, then beyond her towards Moira before lifting his voice slightly from the low rumble it was.
“Ya can come over, I won’t bite ya if ya don’t bite me.”
Once more his attention shifted towards Sandra.
“Nosey as it sounds, who’s your daddy? And no, I don’t mean that in a sexual way despite how it sounds.”
[Schmetterling Rohl]
Oh shit. DOn’t laugh and scare the mousy kin off. LIng applies her rather powerful will to the problem of not bursting into laughter at kemp’s words. Her gaze leaves Sandra, meets Kemp’s eyes and then flicks over to Moira. One hand raises in greeting, the mouth still in battle to keep from grinnign widely.
[Sandra Davenport]
She looks up at Kemp, and dares to study him for a minute, before she drops her gaze again to look at her foot as she rubs it agianst the wet road. She answers though, becuase she knows it is expected. Twice in as many days, after never being noticed before. So much for hiding out and just studing. “John Davenport, known as Shreds-the-Stars in some circles.” her voice cracks, slightly, and she finishes. “died giving victory to a small holy place in Wisconson.
[Kemp Oates]
“Heh, in that case. I am Kemp Oates, known to the Nation as Truth in Frenzy. Rotagar of the Eagles. Fostern in Rank. And ya got family in the city, as ya now know.”
Nodding towards Ling and Moira.
“Them too, they are like you, relations. So there ya go.”
[Schmetterling Rohl]
How did Sandra know?? Ling appears slightly baffled, tries to figure out how the woman made the mental leap from the family to the other. Ok, well maybe that was it. Uhhhhh…
Draws a blank.
Sometimes, that happens to Ling.
She nods, offers a low spoken, “I’m also kin to Fenrir.” And another helpful smile, the sort she wanted in her mousy days. Long before the whole ahh modeling gig.
[Moira Tasgall]
Moira’s head turns away, glancing over her shoulders and then behind her, as if she were searching for someone that might suddenly pop out of the darkness and maul her. Not seeing anyone else at the moment, but them. She starts to take slow, reluctant steps towards the group, approaching at an angle that places the most distance between her and Kemp.
She stops, lifts a hand to return Ling’s wave and a small upward tilt of her chin, “Hello, Schmetterling, Kemp.. and?” just catching the last bit of what Sandra says as Kemp makes the full introductions.
She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her coat, swaying back and forth with the occasional look over her shoulder, especially towards the pack house and back to them.
[Sandra Davenport]
Sometimes, all you can do is decide to be daring. Sometimes – it takes a lot out of the mousy kin to do so, but fortunately this time it was right. She rubs her arms again, the hair still prickling and standing on edge so close to Kemp. “I had heard there might be some here, but I.. well, I just never looked too hard. School, and all.”
She looks up at Moira, and wonders idly if every kin in this city is gorgeous, and ducks her head again, slightly. “Sandra.”
[Kemp Oates]
He had given up a long time ago trying to figure out what girls were thinking. A long time ago as in at least last week. So each look back at the packhouse from Moira and each curious look from Ling, he let slide past him.
“Moira.”
A lift of his chin and back to Sandra his gaze went.
“Heh yeah, well if ya weren’t given someone ta look for, I guess ya have to depend on hit and miss. Ain’t no big thing. Ya staying nearby?”
Now more questions came as he studied Sandra.
“What school ya going to? Seems like everyone, well the girls that is, is in school. At least, most.”
Another look at Ling and back to Sandra.
[Schmetterling Rohl]
“I’m gonna go get dry, try to salvage my books. Nice to meet you, Sandra. Plenty of family from our tribe here, good people. Hi Moira. Bye!” And with that, she shrugs her backpack on her shoulder agian, heads up to the packhouse , comes bakc out a few minutes later to get Sandra’s contact info for later and offers an invitation for coffee or a bite sometime. THEN she takes off back inside and stays put.
((Kid stealing puter for homework, but Ling would not leave without getting the contact info!! Unless Sandra doesnt want to give it up! have fun all!))
[Sandra Davenport]
She gives her phone number easily enough to Ling before she leaves. Family is family, even if Sandra kind of aches for a wall to be a flower on. She glances up at Kemp, and pushes her glasses up, then her hair behind her ear, before looking at Moira too. “I have a small apartment near campus. I go to The Art Institute.”
[Kemp Oates]
“Art?”
Blinking a time or two.
“Like ya draw pictures all day or something?”
[Moira Tasgall]
Call it good genetics that provided the pretty face, though, she wasn’t trying to look gorgeous. In fact it was the exact opposite; clothing meant more for warmth than fashion hid her slim frame. Dark hair, the color of chocolate, was pulled up away from her face in a messy twist and kept in place at the nape of her neck.
“I’m Moira.” She answers Sandra, offering the girl a smile before her gaze flicks off to watch Ling depart for the pack house. She lets her gaze settle on Sandra.
“Well, we have to do something with ourselves; going to school is just one of the options. Best to make something of yourself with an education.”
[Sandra Davenport]
She flushes, brightly, and she watches her feet again, though she glances into the car and her laptop bag, before glancing at him again. “I’m not as good with the hand drawing stuff, actually. I’m studying graphic arts – using the computer…. to draw pictures. To go into advertising or something, maybe.”
[Kemp Oates]
“Heh, well I’m sure whatever it is, ya’ll find a way to aid the Nation with it.”
Cocking his head towards the door Ling had used.
“Ya got a need, come here. Someone is usually around. Moira here goes to school too as ya might of gathered. Guess ya got something in common.”
[Moira Tasgall]
She gently clears her throat, shaking her head, “Actually, I take online classes now. What I’m studying isn’t a normal career path, like advertising. So, it frees up my time more and I don’t have to attend an institute like most other people do.”
[Sandra Davenport]
Of course. The nation. Needs the mousy little girl who’d much rather hide behind her computer screen then do anything else. Odd. but she looks back over her shoulder at the building behind her, and then nods with a shy smile. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Kinda missed knowing there was family around.”
[Kemp Oates]
“Heh, always relations of some sort around a place, ya know? Some good, some bad. Some worse than others.”
Looking down at her feet with a faint frown.
“Did ya drop something? Ya keep looking down like ya searching for it.”
[Sandra Davenport]
She blushes brightly again, chewing on her bottom lip in embarassment and attempts to figure out some way to answer that, that doesn’t make her sound completely nuts. “I…uh… no…um.”
Brilliant, Sandra.
[Moira Tasgall]
Moira could see the shyness, but doesn’t make a comment. She held a strong reign on her tongue and simply fell quiet, which was eerily odd for her. Moira releases an awkward sigh, feeling a bit out of place as she tries to think of something to carry the conversation further.
She can only come up with excuses for not being there. Decker’s words looming like a black cloud over her head. “Did someone call to get assistance for your car, Sandra?”
[Sandra Davenport]
Ah – something to seize on. “Oh. I called someone – they said to let it sit and try it again. Just flooded, maybe. Mr. Oates thinks so too.”
[Kemp Oates]
“Heh, well I’ll leave you girls to talk. I get the feeling I make ya both uncomfortable. And it’s Kemp. No one ever called me Mister anything.”
Shaking his head with a chuckle.
“I’m eighteen, not eighty.”
Canting his head to the pair before he turned to head back towards the alley.
[Sandra Davenport]
Crap. She made him leave – that can’t be good. She ducks her head and pushes her hair behind her ear again, wishing, and not for the first time, that a big hole would open and swallow her. She isn’t anything that people expect, though she doesn’t know why people expect things from her anyway. Much safer behind her computer screen. Much. much safer.
[Moira Tasgall]
“I know absolutely nothing about cars so I can’t help you there.”
She looks up at Kemp when he begins to make his excuses to leave, “You best stay. I’m the one that needs to be heading off. I’m not supposed to be around here… or you.”
She tucks her head down and offers Sandra an apologetic smile, “I hope things turn out for you and the car. I wish you a good night.”
[Sandra Davenport]
She smiles shyly at Moira, and then looks back down at her feet again. “thanks.” if there’s curiosity about the rest of what was said – it doesn’t show. at all.
[Kemp Oates]
“Heh, ya know what that is about, but nice shield there Moira.”
Turning back with a roll of his eyes as he came to a halt near the car again.
“I’ll wait with ya since she won’t.”
Mumbled to Sandra.
[Moira Tasgall]
Moira says, “You’re welcome, Sandra, good luck.” She offers Sandra a small wave and starts to turn away, glancing back over her shoulder.
“Not my decision. Go ask Decker if you don’t believe me, he said it.” With that she starts to head off.
[Sandra Davenport]
She glances between them, almost like the tension is visible. She doesn’t say anything, though, just offers a bit of a timid smile of thanks to Kemp. “Thanks.” pause. “Shouldn’t be much longer to wait, right? I.. don’t want to keep you from anything important, I mean.”
[Moira Tasgall]
to Kemp Oates, Nora Jonsdottir, Sandra Davenport
(Night folks. Thanks for the scene.)
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Sometimes, even the most prominent of people can bleed into the background. It isn’t hard, if you really try. The shadows do not love Nora the way they do most people. Her hair is far to pale, her skin just as fair. The weather has warmed and her clothes are appropriate for such. Jeans slung low on slim hips that bear only the faintest of curves, her shirt is long sleeve and snug against her torso and the flat of her stomach. A cascade of blonde tumbles over one shoulder and her fingers toy with the silken ends absently. How long had she been standing not quite half a (short) city block from the trio? Near a small specialty shop where the shopkeep has just switched the Sure We’re Open sign to Sorry We’re Closed. The movement causes Nora to cast a glance around and over one shoulder to peer at the old man. Her arms are crossed over her belly and she’s gnawing at her inner jaw near the corner of her mouth – the action a sure sign of consideration and thought.
[Kemp Oates]
His jaw tightened a moment as Moira once more took her own interpetation on what was said so it suited her pouting. Sucking in a deep breath as he turned his attention away, letting the entire thing slide away.
“You’re not keeping me from anything. I can watch from here as well as somewhere else. Besides, what kind of guy would I be to leave ya standing in the dark alone with a broken car?”
Forcing a smile that showed a hint of dimple for a second.
((Sorry, had a call. ))
[Sandra Davenport]
She blushes again, and peeks up at him through the curtain of her hair, before watching her foot scrape the cement. “I appreciate it.” and then, she actually tries to answer what he asked her before. He’s Fostern. He deserves honesty. “…about the looking at my feet thing… I’m… not much a people person. I tend to hide in corners behind my computer screen. I.. just get nervous is all.”
[Kemp Oates]
“Heh, like I told grumpy, I won’t bite unless asked to and then not likely to do that then either.”
Winking with the hint of a smile.
“So, wanna take a load off?”
Nodding to a nearby retaining wall where weeds spilled over the side of it towards the cracked and broken pavement.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
It isn’t jealousy that flickers in her blue eyes. In fact, you’d be hard pressed to pick-up on the small nuances of Nora’s body language to gain any insight into what the blonde might be thinking. Now and then a flicker of an emotion, something apparent that appears in the blink of an eye and disappears just as rapidly, can be seen but it most certainly is not jealousy. There’s a sort of maddening practicality about the Icelandic young woman. She does not heed the rules of age. There are not flowery expressions of love, there are no demands for time or explanations. It simply was not acceptable for a woman to behave so – so Nora didn’t.
Inhaling deeply she exhales slowly, taking a few small steps out of the shadows dictated by the shop overhang and moving towards Kemp and Sandra on the opposite side of the street.
[Sandra Davenport]
She hides her grin behind the fall of mousy hair, and pushes her glasses up her nose again. “Yeah, thanks..” it’s close enough and safe enough that she doesn’t worry about her laptop in the car, so she pushes off the fender, and moves to the retaining wall. She hops up to sit on it. She’s not very tall, not very thin, not very pretty – Sandra. That in itself makes her stand out from those she’s met in the city so far. Not chunky, but not thin. Just, Sandra. No more, no less.
A moment, and then a question. “You said.. Eagle, right? Are there many?”
[Kemp Oates]
“Heh, a few. More Kin than anything lately. I swear at this rate, we’ll rival the Lords who are thick as ticks on a dog.”
Attention lifting towards the movement across the street as he more leaned than sat on the retaining wall.
“Hey.”
Called out towards Nora as he murmured to Sandra.
“And as I speak, there appears another Kin.”
[Sandra Davenport]
She looks up to study Nora for half a second, and then nods. “Jonsdottir? I saw her, yesterday or the day before. With two others, who said her name. A” she tries to remember. “Redhead, and another girl. I was just walking by.”
[Kemp Oates]
“Heh, ya hear a lot in just walking by.”
Wiggling his brows as a wicked light entered his eyes.
“Now I’m probably gonna piss her off, so watch out.”
Putting fingers to lips and letting out a wolf whistle before calling.
“YO BABY! SHAKE THAT THING!”
[Sandra Davenport]
Her eyes WIDEN and she blushes bright, ducking her head to hide the smile. “If you hadn’t said it already – I’d know you a no-moon for sure.”
[Kemp Oates]
“Heh, no shit?”
Wiggling his brows yet again with a wide smile and show of dimples. Attention back to Nora to watch her for reaction. Nothing he liked better than getting a reaction from someone.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
That would make Sandra and Nora extreme opposites. Nora is tall – even in her sneakers she’s almost 5’10. Her hair is lustrous and a pale shade of blonde. There’s nothing plain about the cornflower color of her eyes and the thick curtain of long dark lashes that frame them. She carries herself with an obvious sense of self-respect and confidence. The Icelandic nineteen year old bears the pale skin of the Norse, Godslayers.
Kemp yells and Nora smiles. There’s no chin-up greeting that seems so commonplace among the Eagles. Just a smile that in and of itself is somewhat of an anomaly. When he wolf-whistles and howls Nora’s smile grows wider by degrees and she dips her chin towards her chest (there’s a first for everything…) and a faint rose petal pink blush rises to her cheeks. Crossing the street she adjusts her gaze to flicker over Sandra and Kemp still wearing that out-of-place smile.
“Kemp…” She says with a shake of her head. Nora wasn’t angry, but the faintest hint of embarrassment rose up in her eyes.
[Kemp Oates]
“Well fuckme. I mean, heya Nora. This here is Sandra.”
Nodding to the girl next to him. Thrown off for a moment with her smile and no bitting off of his head. Rising to his full height to lean in and brush his cheek against Nora’s before sitting back against the retaining wall again.
[Sandra Davenport]
Complete opposites is a good way to say it. 5’3″, and simply built differently then most girls, stocky where they get curvy and slender, and mousy in a way that will become dowdy in later years.
“Hi.” offered, shyly.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Perhaps Kemp didn’t really know Nora at all. He leans in and brushes his cheek against hers and she turns just in time so that the faintest brush of glossed lips drags against the line of his jaw. Recognition is immediate in the blondes eyes. “Hello Sandra, I saw you last evening…” Her arms once again lift to toy with the ends of her hair as it remains drawn over the curve of her shoulder.
[Sandra Davenport]
She nods, slightly. “Yeah. You were with someone else – they said your name. Jonsdottir. I once new someone by that name, back home.” pause, flush. “sorry if I stared. It just startled me. I hadn’t heard the name for a while.”
[Kemp Oates]
He was content to lean back with his arms crossed across his chest while they spoke. Watching along the street with slow turns of his head. Letting his thoughts drift as he half listened to the two women.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
That gives Nora pause. The manicured line of her brow draws close together and she tips her head slightly to one side, regarding the other female with an almost hopeful gaze. If Nora was nothing else, she was very proud of her heritage and extremely proud of her family. “Really? It is an unusual name…might I ask their name?”
[Sandra Davenport]
“It was someone passing through – I.. didn’t know them well. And I just called her Mrs.” she flushes, embarassed. “There were many Norse and German that came through. We were small, but my Father, he was a popular leader.” There is pride there, for her Father – if not for herself.
[Kemp Oates]
That brought his attention back to the pair for a moment. If she popped up and told Nora she was some love child of one of her parents, he was going to shit a brick for sure. That thought alone made him smile slightly.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora nods, her smile falling slightly. With Alaric’s arrival perhaps Nora had hoped someone else from her homeland may have been visiting Chicago. Maybe. Blue eyes flicker towards Kemp as if she simply sensed the god awful thought that ran through his mind. Her gaze narrows and she returns her attention to Sandra, all the tension around her mouth and eyes gone. “Ah…where are you from?”
[Sandra Davenport]
She slides her hands together, then folds her arms around her belly as she answers questions, timidly, and shy. “Wisconsin. feel free to enter your favorite cheesehead joke here.”
[Kemp Oates]
Snickering with the cheese comment.
“Heh, could of used some of that with the whine going around earlier.”
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora shifts another blue-eyed glance Kemp’s way. The ‘cheese head’ term was not one Nora was familiar with so she simply smiles slightly as if she could smile her way through almost anything. “I’ve never been…are you here with family Sandra?” Now Nora crosses her arms over the flat of her stomach, attention once more swinging round to Kemp. “Did you speak with Moira?” Yes. She saw her.
[Sandra Davenport]
There are undercurrents of things here that make her definitely uncomfortable, but it’s a state she’s well used too. She shakes her head, and pushes up her glasses, using the movement to hide the flash of pain. “No. I came for school.”
[Kemp Oates]
“If ya want to call it that. Just let her have her interpetations. It wasn’t lost on me why she wrote the note, really. Was her taking what Deck said way too literally so she could avoid a face to face. I ain’t as stupid as some look.”
Shrugging as he shifted his attention back towards Sandra.
“Her car broke down and don’t matter, she has family here now that she knows about. Shit, don’t have to worry about being alone around here.”
[Sandra Davenport]
She blushes again. “I mean – just found family, like Kemp said, but I didn’t.. I mean..” Tongue-tied, again. She chews on her lower lip a minute, then. “I mean, now I do. But only since I just met you all.” There.
[Kemp Oates]
“Relax Sandra, I wasn’t correcting you or nothing.”
Dragging his hands back through his shaggy brown hair with a roll of shoulders.
“Just be yourself or something.”
[Sandra Davenport]
She blushes again, and peeks up at him. “I am. Kinda sad, isn’t it.” At least she knows how mousy and plain she is, and how she comes across,
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Her attention had bounced from Kemp to Sandra and when Kemp speaks once more she slowly slides her eyes his way. There isn’t fear or intimidation or uncertainity in the gaze she lays on him. It’s fierce in its own way and when she looks back at Sandra there’s still a flicker of that ‘look’ in her eyes. “No. Not sad at all.” Is all she says and looks away and towards the street.
[Kemp Oates]
“Have some pride in yourself Sandra. Just relax and stop trying so hard and never put yourself down cause believe me, there’s plenty around in this world that are just dying to do that for ya and tap dance on your guts in the process.”
[Sandra Davenport]
“Well I have plenty of guts to stomp on.” Then she winces. She put herself down again. But she shrugs and pushes up her glasses again. “Sorry. Old habits.”
[Kemp Oates]
Purposely taking her words wrong with a snicker.
“Hey, guts is a good thing. Ya should have plenty of them.”
Nudging Nora’s foot with his own.
“Ain’t that right Nora?”
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Her eyes fix on Kemp and with a sigh the frown melts away and she smiles – albeit slightly. “You are no less than anyone around you Sandra. Do not let anyone ever tell you different.” She sounds confident and quite sure that what she is saying is true.
[Sandra Davenport]
She figits a little as they talk, but it’s easier to take Kemp’s jokes, then Nora’s quiet assurance. Those who look as she does, holds themselves as she does, has the backbone Nora does find such things so easy to say. They’ve never been on this side. Ever. But she nods, slightly.
[Kemp Oates]
“Everyone of us has a place in the nation, in this world. Hell, everyone has a part to play. Sometimes we just don’t see it or understand it’s like, I don’t know.”
Shaking his head slightly while searching for words.
“Everything and everyone are part of one big thing like your engine. Without some of the parts, it won’t work so good. Without fuel, it won’t run at all. We are the fuel the keeps the parts moving. Ya see? So just take it as it comes but don’t think less of yourself for any damned reason. Ain’t worth it.”
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora is a mystery in and of herself to the Garou and Kin of Chicago that know her – though none of them truly know her in anyway that constitutes the word ‘familiarity’. The blonde has fallen silent, her eyes on the street and those traversing it.
[Sandra Davenport]
She blinks, at looks up at him, almost fully – as close as she’ll come, really. She chews her lower lip a minute, then it slides from between her teeth into a shy smile. “Sure you’re a Rotager? That sounded awful like a Skald.” And then she ducks her head, again, but the smile lingers.
[Kemp Oates]
“Heh, I been called plenty of things, believe me. Most of them things ya call folks ya don’t like so much.”
Snickering with a shake of his head. A glance towards Nora with a lifted brow. Hell he couldn’t figure out girls.”
[Kemp Oates]
((Oops, not suppose to be a ” there LOL! ))
[Ling Rohl]
((Still out in front of the packhouse?))
[Kemp Oates]
((Yes))
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Somewhere, distant, the roar of thunder echoes across the sky. Moments later a flash of lightening follows suit and Nora casts her eyes skyward. Sandra’s intimate knowledge of their family Tribe draw her attention though she said nothing. Kemp’s gaze is felt and she flashes him a glance and a small smile that’s barely enough to be called that. Still, Nora is quiet, though her fingers have lifted again to toy with the ends of her hair.
[Sandra Davenport]
“Me too.” A little smile, and then she slides off the wall, wiping the dust from her behind as she does so. “I.. should try the car again.” She’s not immune to the looks between them, after all. She excuses herself with a murmur, and goes to fight her door open again, and slide inside. In neutral, clutch in, ebrake on, foot on the gas, a deep breath and…
RAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOR the car starts, loudly, and she breathes a sigh of relief.
[Ling Rohl]
Ling heads out the door , in a change of nice dry clothes and with a much cleaner face than she had earlier. Rain has stopped now, and she’s got a clean dry towel and a tray of hot stuff to drink. Coffee and somethign chocolate from the smell of it. Maybe its a little late, but at least its a nice antidote for being drippy wet.
Ling might just be about to get an obsession about coffee and chocolate together.
She sets the tray down on somethign outside teh door, hops down the steps and makes it to the group in fewer steps than someone wiht hte average leg length, as opposed to her own.
The towel she tosses at the drippy Kemp, and she eyes Sandra for signs of sogginess too. “Got shit to drink over there if ya– you want. Hi Nora.” The later gets a wink, and the others enough of a smile to counteract any gruffness.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
“Hello Ling…” It was always hello, never ‘hey’ or ‘what’s up’. It was always a proper greeting, which was far more than most people offered. Sandra walks away and Nora casts a glance the cars way only to hear it roar to life. One arm is drawn across the flat of her stomach, her hand hooked on her opposite elbow in an odd sort of stance.
[Kemp Oates]
Watching as Sandra headed for the car. Just about to ask Nora what her problem was when Ling turned up. Giving the tall kin a simple lift of his chin and a muttered.
“Thanks.”
When accepting the towel to drap across his shoulders.
“Looks like the carb cleared out.”
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Ignorant to Kemp’s pending question she shifts her stance and position and moves closer to the Rotagar – within arms reach at least. Her attention is all over -Sandra and her car, Ling, a couple passing by on the street.
[Ling Rohl]
Hello. Nora always hello. Two whole syllables. Mighty free with them, she was. Ling sighs and accepts it. “Carbs? You don’t want no cocoa? Don’t think it coudl have many carbs, its all liquid. ”
So says the science drop out. She shrugs, watches Sandra in her car. “She leaving? Seems nice. She leaves, i made too much to drink.”
[Sandra Davenport]
She makes sure the car will stay running, and climbs out again to close the hood. A slight smile for Kemp as she nods. “You were right after all.” the hood bounces, and she slams it down with her hands until the catch latches, and then leans back into the old beat up 78 civic. A moment or two later, and she comes out with a piece of paper. On it, her name and number, which she offers to Kemp. “I don’t have much…” she watches her feet again a moment, before peeking up at him. “But you and yours are welcome if you need anything I have. My father would want me to make the offer.”
She offers a shy slight smile to Nora, and then Ling. “Thank you, but I have to nurse my car home.”
[Nora Jonsdottir]
She smiles at the tall blonde kin and watches Ling’s movements with faint interest. Sandra speaks and offers the number and Nora simply smiles a little more and tips her head in a sort of unspoken good-bye. “Have a good evening Sandra.”
[Ling Rohl]
“Heh. Maybe i should have brought something for your car. Still, its running now, can’t be all bad! Take care Sandra.” She nods to teh other woman, even smiles encouragingly. And then wonders what would happen, if Sandra hit a growth spurt like the 6’1″ Ling did.
It could happen.
[Kemp Oates]
Accepting the paper to later stick on the fridge in the packhouse.
“Yeah well, I told ya where to find help if ya need it. Watch your ass out there and good luck with the car.”
Giving Ling a confused look before rubbing his forehead as if to ease a pain there.
[Sandra Davenport]
She won’t ever hit a growth spurt. What you see is what you get with Sandra, and well, it’s not much, but it’s all she has. She nods to Nora and Ling, and another slight smile for Kemp. “Thanks again.” and then she moves back to her car, gets in, puts it in gear, and pulls away, careful to not pop the clutch again and end up back on the wall.
(Thanks for the scene! I have to go!)
[Kemp Oates]
((NIght!))