[Rory] Little pockets of niceness exist in bronzeville, though they are few and far between. In one of these, however a certain redhead is sitting on a bench, her feet pulled up under her chriscross applesauce. Her pack is leaning against one hip, and in her lap is something… mechanical. By the furrow on Rory’s brow, she’s not quite figured out what it is yet, or what she can make it into. Nimble fingers push and pull and prod and then – get poked on a piece hard enough to draw blood. She doesn’t even whimper, simply places that finger between her lips and sucks it clean, while the other hand keeps poking at the whatsit in her hands.
Tattered jeans, and a beat up hoodie are the outer layers, and a knit hat TRIES to keep those curls under control. It fails, of course.
She seems oblivious to what’s going on around her – but she never truly is. She’s just.. occupied. And curious by nature.
[Gina McClaren] *Gina’s returning from a wander. She’s been out, about, here, there, everywhere. Now she’s meandering home with a slow, sashaying gait. Coat pulled tight around her, brilliant red under the dim streetlights. This was a better area of bronzeville, a safer route home. Well, wherever home was these days. The Vanguard Hotel tonight she supposed. Perhaps another tomorrow. Keeping Edwin on his toes her passive aggressive form of punishment for the Bogeyman’s deception. Ahead of her, hair as red as the pikey’s coat, is Rory. Hard to miss with those fiery curls poking everywhere. Gina sighs and raises a hand in hello, waiting a moment before hollering.*
OI! Mind yer House!
[Rory] A voice, and a tinkling of charms, and that holler finally tugs her gaze away from the whassit in her lap as she blinks slowly. Rusty lashes fall to touch pale, freckled cheeks, then lift again as she tries to figure out what the pikey meant… exactly.
In the end, she just smiles that shy lil grin, and waves. Only when gina is close enough… “mind hy mouse?”
[Gina McClaren] Close enough Darlin.
*Its unnatural that a woman would willingly slide into a seat next to a creature capable of shape-shifting into a slavering monster. Madness to bump the creature with a shoulder, when they radiate supernatural fury and could lose their temper at any moment. Born and bred to do just that, a kinfolk is possesses a rare sort of affable insanity. Which is why, of course, garou keep them around. The dusky kin settles onto the bench and smiles up to the redhead, dark eyes smile as well, smudged with kohl. Bangles clink and jingle as the strider kin gestures to the doodad in the Fianna’s lap.*
Wha’s tha darlin?
[Rory] She’s still.. confused, but it passes by her with little more thought put to it. Rory finds a great many things confusing since she left Arizona and arrived here in the windy city – from the weather to the people, to the Garou, to the kin, to just… everyday life It’s all an overwhelming blur, some days, but she soldiers on.
Rory’s something of a conundrum herself, of course. All that rage, so much it burns under her skin and radiates to anyone who gets close enough – coupled with a curious kind of innocence and honesty, a naivete that’s almost shocking… Of all the monsters with her level of rage, she is oddly enough, one of the easiest to sit next too. So much control, so much innocent and unfeigned charm.
What is it? “Dunno.” Her brow furrows, as she keeps poking at it. “Found it. Maybe a coy tar?” It looks sorta like a remote control car – or maybe an army tank, now that she mentions it – though without wheels and body, it’s impossible to tell what kind.
[Gina McClaren] Hmmf.
*Gina hums in interest, hands moving to poke at a wheel prong curiously. She leans in, no doubt getting in Rory’s light as the car is peered at. No answers forthcoming, the kin instead leans on the full moon with a tired sigh, hauling her legs onto the bench with a swish of fabric.*
Glad tae find ye aboot. Ye been aulrecht? Settlin en wi the bloody Bogeys?
[Rory] Gina makes herself comfortable, leaning against Rory, and Rory becomes very still, so as not to jostle her friend. Her fingers though, they never quit moving across the gadget – which Rory will no doubt completely dismantle when she arrives home, and work the pieces into something else entirely.
When asked of the Bogeymen, she offers gina that shy little smile again as she nods, curls bouncing. “Edwin is awesome.” Some words are easier than others. Theres a slight crease of her brow though. “Kemp thinks it’s odd I packed dith Welmar…” a beat. “He used bo te mean mo te.”
[Gina McClaren] Hmm. Delmar can be a bit o a preck, ah’ll gi’ ye tha.
*Gina says nothing on Edwin, unable to decide if its fondness or fury that clenches in her chest at the mention of his name. A glance up to Rory’s smile, and she’s stroking a curl between her fingers, intimate and lovely. All playful charm and easy familiarity that seems as natural as breathing to the woman who, until recently, was the ward of one of the most churlish wolves in Chicago.*
But sae es Kemp, reckon. Both good folks at their core, once a folk does a bit o diggin. Ah’m awfully fond o LowKey meself. Though ah could o’ fookin strangled hem when ah met a felly.
[Rory] She grins that same lil shy grin. She’s still getting used to the familiarity, to people wanting to touch and pet and take care of her. She’s never known it – and Gina is the only that it doesn’t make her incredibly nervous. Because it’s Gina, and that’s just how she is.
She wrinkles her nose and admits. “I heat bim up really bad when we met. He called we meak. De hoesn’t do that anymore.”
[Gina McClaren] Och, everywan picks on the Gingers. *A gentle tug of a curl, as though the red hair were the reason for the bullying, not Rory’s meekness and birth. The strider kin’s lips curl with laughter.*
Yer opposite sides o the moon. He’s a lucky felly ye kept yer temper, bein a full moon an aul.
*A stretch of tired muscles, her shoulders rolling before she looks at Rory’s hair like she’s seeing it for the first time. Making to slip the knit hat off her head.*
Why dae ye wear thes silly theng, ye’ve a gorgeous mop darlin..
[Rory] She tips her head and starts to ask, but te tug on her hair is enough to let her know what Gingers are. She grins a little sorta proudly. “Took him down in bwo tites.” Delmar hasn’t picked on her, really, since.
She lets Gina pull the hat off, ducking her head with a shy, impossibly shy smile, her cheeks flushing with warmth. “Tangles.” The hat offers some control – but she doesn’t shy away from the tease. And that mop is impossibly tangled, it seems. Rory doesn’t eve bother trying to brush it out but for right after a shampoo.
[Gina McClaren] The mention of taking Delmar out in two bites has Rory flushing proudly, and Gina going ashen beneath caramel skin. Two bites. How many bites did it take Sole with Edwin? Fighting amongst themselves. Gina raises up on her knees in order to run nimble fingers through a mass of impossible red curls. Hair. Concentrate on hair. Hair she knew, (as well she should, given hers was long enough to be nearing the swell of her ass now.) Hair was safe, and comfortable, and an easy way to take care of Rory and not think on blood and the wet sounds of tooth and blade sawing flesh. *
We should gi’ ye some de-tanglin conditioner darlin. Jes spray et en, an’ leave et. Ah’ve some en pumpkin scent. Ets nice.
[Rory] Rory makes a face, briefly, as Gina hits a tangle, but she doesn’t resist the pampering as Gina works through those impossible curls. There’s a curious tilt of her head as she lifts pale fingers to rub against the side of her nose, leaving a smudge there afterward. Kemp teases her about that too. Rory doesn’t seem to think anything of it though.
“Conditioner?” Girl talk. Rory’s at a complete loss. But there’s a little wistful tug at the corner of her lips. “Gabe tiked lo brush hy mair. Shis hampoo smelled like lilacs.”
[Gina McClaren] Hmm. Ye miss hem, don’t ye darlin?
*Another tug, one that bows the poor redhead’s neck back. Gina hisses through her teeth in apology, wincing and rubbing the ahroun’s scalp softly.*
Saerry. We really need a bit o conditioner fer ye. Ets like shampoo. Makes yer hair soft sae et doesnae tangle. See?
*A flip of her own hair, a good deal less practiced than those women in hair commercials, but impressive nevertheless.*
[Rory] She nods, slightly, a shy admittance to how attached she got to the pretty Fury who gave her her very first kiss. They say you never forget your first, and since it’s also her only, Rory holds the memory very tightly close to her heart, barely allowing herself to think about it, lest she feel the loss to keenly. It was never going to last, it wasn’t going to be more than a fling for him, but to Rory… to Rory it was Magic.
“He writes le metters. Edwin reads them mo te.” And she does her best to memorize every word so she can pretend to read them to herself after. “Pends sictures he takes to. I put them on wy mall.”
There’s a little bit of pride there, too. She HAS a wall to put them on, now.
Then Gina is flipping her own hair to demonstrate and Rory hides a little giggle as she reaches out to touch the soft, untangled locks. “Soft.. hy mair would never get lo song..”
[Gina McClaren] *Rory speaks of her crush, and Edwin reading his letters to her. Hard to imagine drawling out a soppy love letter. It teases a melodic laugh from the curvy woman concentrating on her hair. The Fianna was naive as a school girl. Well. Naive as some schoolgirls. Gina’s hair is soft and thick in the Fianna’s hand. Pampered. A vanity the strider kin took careful care of.*
Tha’s because et’d have twice as mooch growin tae dae, aul curly like et es. Ye sound like yer happy, Rory. Enough tae eat, an aul?
[Rory] Given the choices, Edwin – who she clearly idolizes – is the clear choice. Delmar would tease her relentlessly – though maybe Annie would read to her… she’s never thought about it Edwin offered and Rory happily lets him read, and believes he tells it to her true, every time.
She wrinkles her nose a little, as she reaches up to look at a curl and pull it straight. She simply lets it spring back into Gina’s careful manipulations again, and skinny shoulders lift in a shrug.
“I do fix it work for plome saces for food. Enough I san cometimes feed all of us.” A beat. “I’m fetting gat!” A complete lie, of course – Rory burns it off almost as soon as she eats it. But it’s a testament to how comfortable she is with Gina that she even attempts the joke…
[Gina McClaren] *Her eyes narrow as she deciphers that one, stumped for a few seconds before Rory-ese becomes clear in her mind. Nothing about pork. A laugh as she leans back.*
Och aye.. ah noticed tha…
*The pikey lies right back, pinching at Rory’s side as though grabbing a bit of flab. Good, the girl was eating. That was one less thing to worry about, on top of everyone bloody dying.*
[Rory] Eyes widen as Gina says she noticed, and then she’s blushing as she realizes Gina’s mimicking and teasing her. She squirms away from the pinch – apparently a little ticklish too.
“There’s a pizza place – I think he breaks the moda sachine on purpose so I fan cix it..”
She shakes her head, because she can’t figure out why… but it gets her fresh hot pizza with all the toppings every time he calls… once a week or so. “Fe’s hunny.”
[Gina McClaren] *Gina just smiles. It was good that someone was taking care of the kid. She didn’t know if the Bogeymen had any kin of their own. They certainly couldn’t depend on Edwin on that bloody score. Teeth grind a moment before she’s settling on the plumpness of her ass again, dragging hair out of her face and sighing. Rory’s hat is given over with a rueful smirk.*
Delmar still has a room o the brotherhood, reckon. Either tha oor we shagged on another folks bed, which ah wouldnae put past ’em really. Et jes yerself an’ Edwin o the packhouse now?
[Rory] Rory tips her head curiously as Gina grits her teeth, before taking her hat back and reaching over to shove it into her backpack. She’s still messing with the whatsit in her lap, but just idly.
“Delmar stays sometimes.”
She tips her head, slightly… and then she realizes what Gina said they did, and oh, the blush slides up over her cheeks as if it would settles there permanently as she duck her head shyly. She rubs at her nose as if that’d help somehow, and then just peeks over at Gina. “You hike lim?” a beat. “like that, I mean?”
[Gina McClaren] Frequently…
*She teases, leaning into the woman and beaming into the blush. She was fond of Delmar. Perhaps more fond than he knew, or cared to know. Alas, she also had a reputation. A bad reputation. Not as notorious as the Bogeymen, but just as known for screwing people, as it were. Gina wipes a smudge of grease from Rory’s freckled nose, wiping it on her skirts as she whispers scandalously.*
Ee’s a Sexual Tyrannosaurus. Tha Low Key.
[Rory] “….oh…”
Gina teases and that blush deepens – it spreads down her neck and across her shoulders under her hoodie. She opens her mouth to say something, and snaps it closed again as Gina cleans off her nose, and then adds the scandalous whisper…
And she ducks her head, again, that grin impossibly shy and slightly confused then… “…that… means ge’s hood… at it… right?” And a vigorous shake of her head, as if to get the image of Low Key as a Dinosaur out of her head.
Even as she knows she’ll never look at him QUITE the same way again… A lil sigh. “I tometimes shink I’ll never whow knat it’s like…”
[Gina McClaren] Och, darlin. Course ye will. Yer the sweetest theng since Tea’n’biscuits. Pretty tae, wi’ aul thes hair. Granted yer a wee bit fookaft scary, but tha’s wha kin are fer.
*Singsongy voice tumbling like water over stones, Gina nods and basks in the redhead’s warmth. The air was growing colder, ice crystals dancing in the yellow glow of the streetlamp. It wasn’t safe to be out so late in Bronzeville, even the nice areas connected to the bad, and could be dangerous. Pressed warm to the metis beside her, the pikey isn’t concerned. Only the most foolish gangbanger or mugger would take a chance on the two curled up on the bench together tonight, with the moon nearing full.*
Ye’ll find a sweet felly, an’ have a bit o a thing, reckon. Somethin tae remember, o least.
[Rory] She blushes, and reaches up absently to touch her hair, and then wrinkles her nose. She chews on her lip slightly, and then…
“I sope ho. But sost may I’m not allowed.” a deep sigh. “the Uktena screamed at whe men I asked Eddie for a ride once. Screamed that I was wristed and twong. He was not mor fe.” a pause, and softly. “I asked for a ride in cis har.”
a beat.
“I don’t hike ler.”
[Gina McClaren] *A burst of laughter at that. She can’t help it, it was Soledad. She knew it was Soledad. It had to be Soledad. That bitch. Trust her to have no mercy for Metis. One more point they no longer had to battle over, she supposed. A glance at Rory’s face is sobering, Gina trailing off.*
Och darlin. Ah’m saerry. Ah’d shag ye meself were ah a lass wha likes lassies. But reckon until ye find yerself another felly, yer stuck diddlin yerself. An’ nevermind Soledad. She’s a bint aboot thengs like tha.
[Rory] She blinks, and looks curiously at Gina again, and tips her head slightly, as if she said something completely foreign to the metis, once again. It’s not the lass that likes lassies – though there’s a brief moment of confusion there too…
it’s mostly for the… “…myself?”
Poor metis. So much still to learn. It’s unlikely Rory’s ever considered herself in a sexual light at all, other than the longing for a companion… her body was a weapon, unashamed and strong. But the rest… it’s never occurred to her…
She shrugs about Soledad though- and in that confirms it was indeed her. “Most think the wame say.” She furrows her brow, and then questions timidly. “but sex ban ce for fun, too, right? Not bust jabies…”
[Gina McClaren] *Bust jabies. Clearly a form of breast rabies. Or so Gina immediately thinks. To her misfortune. She was clearly getting tired. A chuckle as she shakes her head.*
Course darlin. Sex es loads o fun. A good shag es like naethen else fer takin the edge aft a moody wolf, or a stressful day en the life. Reckon ets late tho… Ah’ll explain thengs better another day, aye? Ye take care o yerself. An those scoundrels yer packed wi.
*That said, she offers the redhead a hug, and makes her goodbyes. Edwin would no doubt pick up her trail to the Vanguard tonight, if the leering bastard wasn’t already there waiting in the shadows like.. well -a Bogeyman.*