[Paul Kellogg] (hi there)
to Izzy Montoya
[Izzy Montoya] Lake View. It’s the nicer area of town, but that does not exclude it from crime any more than any other – which is where we find one Detective Izzy Montoya, outside a building marked with fluttering yellow police “Do not cross” tape. For now, she’s not alone. For these few minutes, she’s talking with the other officers on the scene, directing her team as they clear out, their investigations done. A redheaded younger cop at her side, and they compare notes on their respective notepads, before she claps his shoulder, briefly, and sends him on his way.
As everyone clears out, she leans a hip against her car – unmarked, but unmistakeably police issue – digs out a battered pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her long brown leather coat, a lighter from the other, and uses the latter to light one of the former.
[Paul Kellogg] Unlike the old 78 Ford pickup he ‘borrowed’ from the Gas Station some miles outside the city, this was definately an area that car alarms would be the norm. Not to mention notes left with ‘Dear Sir/Ma’am, I borrowed your car’ wouldn’t be seen as neighborly. Not like the Bayou where you could just bring it back with a full tank of gas and there would be no harm no foul. Then again…those days are almost gone as well.
But that didn’t stop the boy from eyeballing each parked car along the street as he padded by. Minus his dufflebags, he carried with him only his blackhawk and camelbak. Five Finger Vibrams no longer on his feet, since he’d be hoofing it for a few days now. He’d turned those in for his worn Combat Boots by Atrimn. Olive Drab BDU pants and long sleeve military sweater he wore beneath a bright blue North Face Parka. It’s hoodie flapping atop his pack.
Casting an eye over the street. Twas a crime scene just like CSI, or so he mused before returning to his ‘solicitations’. Ahh, an older vehicle. Electric locks, 87 El Derado Cadillac. Who’s recently enjoyed a new paint job. Deep plum with a soft vynal cover, white. Another glance about, he could see only a few folks, probably police he surmized as blury images before sliding his hand beneath it’s handle and giving it a jerk. Nope, locked but no alarm. Niiiiiccce.
[Izzy Montoya] [Is the Detective on her game, today?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Izzy Montoya] [Oh very funny.. +1!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Izzy Montoya] (that should be target 7 – so 4 suxx, not six. *types*)
[Izzy Montoya] She’s a damn good detective, and even here, while more focused on the crime scene inside the building ahead of her – she rarely misses anything. This, unfortunately for Paul, included the fact that he’s casing the vehicles on the street, and finally chooses one to go and lift the handle. Unfortunately for paul, THAT car happens to be in her line of sight as she turns to study the street, her gaze direct, and hard, missing… well, not missing much at all.
She recognizes Paul, and a smirk settles over her lips, as she slides her hand to the small of her back under her jacket, briefly, then takes another drag of her cigarette. Finally, her voice carries the short way across to the one Kemp deemed shootable, and a freak.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”
[Paul Kellogg] He heard a voice call out. Seeing however was another matter. But it jerked him from his fated quandry. Drawing up with an expression of ~Who me? Do what exactly~ his gaze sharpened. In a manner of narrowing his lids to clear his vision. Which resulted in absolutely nothing. However, the cry still crisp in his ears shook his resolve, so close to the cops he best just walk off.
With one backwards glance at the El Derado, a yern then suck of tooth he hissed. He’d have to find another, more aimable place to ‘borrow’.
[Izzy Montoya] Her gaze is a heavy thing when it’s zeroed in on someone – and it’s zeroed in on him now. Whether he sees her, or not, it can be felt. She’s watching his every move.
He backs away, and she smirks. “Chicago has an excellent public transportation system. I’d suggest you use it.” There’s an implied threat there, even as she lifts her cigarette to her lips again. Borrowing vehicles here is definitely not in his best interests. Not now.
[Lila] ooc: where are y’all?
[Izzy Montoya] (Leaning against her car outside a building marked with crime scene tape. Random street. Paul’s just down the way considering the folly of his actions.)
[Paul Kellogg] She lacked a wolf to cause his hackles to raise. Just an officer who caught his lackluster attempt, cause if he’d tried..she’d never seen him. In this situation twas best to just walk on by when someone was shouting out across the street to draw other’s ire and eye.
Hands in his pockets he chuckled. Had he a penny to his name he’d use the transportation, but Gaia provides for those who provide for themselves. Or at least thats what his Walker friend had always said to him when he taught him how to ‘borrow’ neighborly. Yet, he also got an earful when he’d leave promisaries. Notes informing he’d bring them back, and to his credit. He usually did. But that was neither here nor there.
But since the gal had given him a hollar, he veered and started across the street back towards her. Her visage becoming clearer and clearer the closer he came. Not recognizing her in the least. A beguiling smile upon his lips, true and geniune that touched his eyes even. “Howdy ma’am” He started at once on his approach. Hands visible, a thumb hooked upon the strap of his pack even. No, I wasn’t just caught trying to ‘borrow’ a car!!! I need directions! “Could you direct me to the local shelter, Im sure it aint in these parts, but I reckon I can get there if I know which way to start for it.”
[Izzy Montoya] Everything about Izzy screams ‘cop’ – from the way she dresses, to the way she talks, to the way she stands. He closes the distance, and she pushes away from the car, her right hand finding purchase under her open coat, the back of her fingers resting lightly on her hip.
Ma’am, he says. “Detective.” she corrects.
He clearly doesn’t recognize her, but she does him. She flicks the butt of her cigarette, sending a cascade of ashes to the cement at her feet before she lifts it to her lips again, and takes a drag. On exhale… “Why, the Y no longer work for you?”
[Paul Kellogg] That drew a confusing draw of his brows. Flutter of lash and his smile almost vanished. Did he know this woman? He didn’t think so. But the closer he got, the more he noticed her pedigree. Perhaps he ran into her at the Brotherhood?
“Well…” With a renewed smile “..seems the Y has started charging for rooms lent. Or rather for the cots in their bays. So my tiame with them has come to an end. No worries though, aint the first tiame I’ve slept beneath the heavens..wont be the last either. But I hear the local shelter has a job board, and seeing as I could do with some daily labor and pay, I was hoping perhaps you could direct me there….Detective”
[Izzy Montoya] “And why aren’t you staying at the Brotherhood.”
She doesn’t seem swayed by his easy smile, and her gaze has not relented in the least. It’s still watchful, heavy, distrustful to say the least. And clearly, she knows him for what he is from their prior not quite meeting.
“As for labor for your sort, you’ll want to check the Hill House, in Cabrini Green.”
[Lila] Crime happens. The rest of the world (does not take note) continues forward. Near the building marked with crime scene tape [a yellow flag (be afraid)] is a coffee shop. Lila opens the door and steps back out into winter. Her hair is in some complicated and unusual braid; she has a hat over it, concealing most of the work, if not all of the gleam. Her coat belonged, at some point (possibly recent), to a chivalrous (or at least attempting to seem so) guy with broad shoulders, and she wears it better than he ever did. And she has a to-go cup of soup in hand, no spoon. As soon as the door closes gently behind her, she cradles the to-go cup with both hands, and casts a (searching) look both ways up and down the street.
And lo. There is Izzy! And lo, with Izzy someone who [I know that scent (lineage) bloodline (Unicorn)] tugs at her. Something about the way he stands, something that speaks of tribe. She starts to head in that direction, but has to cross the street to do so. The wind picks up, tugs at her scarf, tries to kiss her lips into chapped, to rough her cheeks red.
[Paul Kellogg] Paul couldn’t help but get the feeling that this Kin really needed a hug. Oh she might not think so, not on the surface at least. But her posture, her pedigree and the overwhelming sense of her need to be taken seriously screamed…Hug Me. And why not? She was a slightly attractive woman, who’s job requires her to act masculine in the face of adversity. In order to survive the trash she must deal with daily, she has to be tough and keep her armour up. For that alone, he could sense deep down inside her soul was screaming for a hug. Though not from him obviously. No, probably from a lover or some future lover who could see past the facade and bravado and touch the feminality that beckoned to be noticed. At least subconsciously.
“Because I earn my own way” Pretty sure she’d understand the wisdom and honour in that sentiment. Hand outs while sometimes needed could cast you in a lesser light if you asked for them and recieved too many. “Im sorry…Detective, and please forgive me, I don’t recall our making acquantances. And what sort of labor would that be offered at the Hill House exactly ma’am..er..Detective. Oh, forgive me, Im Paul” Hesitantly offering her his hand. Why? Because he didn’t want her to get jumpy at the movement.
[Izzy Montoya] Sadly, the perceptions of the man ahead of her are really, really, really off in their estimation of the Detective. It’s a good thing he doesn’t act on that mistaken perception, as she’s already received permission to shoot him. And she hasn’t shot anyone in WEEKS. She’s due. A final drag of her cigarette, and she flicks the butt into a puddle on the walk at her feet, and sides her hand back into her pocket. The right hand remains at her hip. Her stance remains comfortable, and her gaze piercing.
Even more sadly, she couldn’t give two shits what he thinks of her, in any way shape or form. He offers his hand, and she glances at it, and then back up at him. She doesn’t take his hand, but she does introduce herself. “Detective Izzy Montoya, Chicago PD, Homicide.”
She doesn’t add what she is – she knows he knows. It’s not her fault he hasn’t put together the pieces yet that tie her to the man who claimed her and the redhead on the street a week ago.
“The Hill House is run by family members, who work to keep the likes of you from stealing cars on my streets. Be it jobs, housing, or otherwise. Those that run the Brotherhood also accept payment for living there. If it’s a test between your pride, and committing a stupid crime in my city? I’d suggest you check out the resources available to you before making a mistake that I can’t overlook because you’re dumb enough to do it mere feet from a fucking crime scene crawling with cops.”
Subtle like a freight train, Izzy.
[Paul Kellogg] Ouch. But it never faultered his smile. She definately enjoys her job and doesnt know or rather doesn’t want to be civil with a decorum of hospitality to he or well..anyone for that matter. Back to the facade. The world has been shit to me, so I’ll be shit to it. Typical with Fenrir. He’d learned long ago to ignore it and let it slide over his shoulders and back like sugar water. She wanted him to think she had a dick, fine. Whatever.
With that smile he just nodded. Retaking his hand from his offer of civility there were no words needed. No need to suffer at the hands of a kin’s foul attitude much less another Garou. Her warning and information absorbed and with a chuckle he excused himself before she’d hurl more at him. “Well, thank you” And he turned to leave.
[Lila] Paul turns to leave. But wait. And lo! There is someone right behind him. “Hello,” she says, when he almost walks right over her. Lila is looking at Paul (quizzical), head canted to the side, just so. “Who are you? I don’t know you yet.” How long had she been there, anyway?
Izzy knows! Long enough to hear it’s a test between your pride and onward. Lila isn’t ignoring Izzy in favor of Paul, but she is waiting to hear what he has to say [her eyes are wide (dreamy)] before she turns and says hello.
[Izzy Montoya] She just watches him as he turns to leave – and she’ll continue to do so. She leans back against her car and picks up her notebook to flip through as she lights another cigarette.
A few more minutes, and she’ll make one more round of the crime scene before moving on.
Lila is there, and stops Paul’s retreat, and Izzy knows, and there’s a slight smirk that curl her lips as she lifts a chin in the Fostern’s direction, before returning to her notebook. She doesn’t seem bothered by Lila’s attention being focused on one of her own first. Maybe she can teach him not to steal cars next to a crime scene.
[Paul Kellogg] “Hi” Was all he could respond after the startled little jump. After all, another step and he would have mowed over her. How sneaky was she? Damn his attention was so rapt on the Fenrir Kin he missed the other creeping up on him. Pay attention Paul!!! His self preservation screamed at him.
“Um..” Brows furrowing as he fortified himself, casting this newcomer a grin. Her wolf, it’s rage. Pedigree and rank hitting him with a suckle of his breath. Licking his lip to moisten it. “Well Howdy ma’am, Im Paul…and not very long to Chicago.”
[Lila] “I didn’t mean to surprise you,” she says, with a smile (radiance [contained]). “Not just then. Where are you from? You don’t have to stint with the introduction right now; we’re alone.” They are. Except for the Fenrir. And even though they’re practically alone, Lila’s voice is pitched low — an easy timbre, and clear, but eavesdroppers would find it difficult to make out all the words [car (traffick]. “I’m Lila: Waking Dream, Breaking Heart, Fostern Galliard of the Nation. What crime did you almost commit? And why?” A beat, and now, finally, for the Fenrir kinswoman: “Hey, Izzy; do you need to get back to work? Or are you almost done here? I can walk with Paul. If Paul will walk with me.”
[Izzy Montoya] Lila asks her a question, and she looks up at the Fostern and nods. “Yes to both – I need to head inside, then I’m done here.” Lila knows what she means, what she intends to do. It’s something she’s trusted her with, and so far, has not regretted that trust.
“He was casing out the cars – checking that one out to steal it. Kindly explain to him the folly in that action, will ya?”
The difference in the way she spoke to Paul, and the way she does with Lila are night and day. If anything, she practically considers the Fostern a friend. After all, they killed zombies together. On xBox, but still – that’s bonding.
[Paul Kellogg] Well that drew a depth to his grin. Geniune. Amused. “Well, intentions aside, I plan to borrow a vehicle if I can’t find a ride. But not here and not now” Chuckling “Name’s Paul Kellogg, known as Thats Greeat!” With his perfect Tony the Tiger impression “Private Promotable” Wiggle of his brow “…Waxing No Moon of our Voice of the Goddess. And I’d love to walk with you” Offering her the crook of his arm. His other hand adjusted the strap over his shoulder for his pack. Without a backwards glance for Izzy, he were ready to go.
[Kemp Oates] From above there came a faint rain of rust that pinged off the dumpster below. Anyone looking up might have a hard time spotting exactly what level of the fire escape the rust came from until a dark clothed figure finally moved, sliding down from the third level to the second. Yes, he was watching the interactions below and though for a moment it looked like it pained him to come further down, he didn’t retreat yet.
[Izzy Montoya] Noise on the fire escape behind them, and she turns to look up, her gaze narrowing slightly until she sees who it is. There’s a jump at the muscle alongside her jaw as teeth clench briefly, but there’s also something else…
..she needs to ask him something. Much as she doesn’t really want too. She lifts her chin slightly, in hello, and tucks her notebook into her pocket as she steps toward the building and the yellow tape.
First things first. She ducks under the tape, and slips inside, taking the stairs to the apartment likewise marked with tape – and stepping inside.
All of the evidence [so far] has been bagged n tagged already, and this is just an additional moment to make sure they didn’t miss anything – using methods the rest of the police force did not have at their disposal. She settles to a crouch in the center of the room and simply… listens.
[Echo, echo, do I hear an echo?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Lila] The galliard listens to what the kinswoman has to say and then also to Paul’s full introduction and explanation. Her expression stays the same, quizzical, musing. “I’ll maybe see you afterward,” she says, to Izzy, and Paul offers his arm, but Lila holds up her cup of soup in answer (no, need both hands for drinking this, thank you), bumping against him with one side, onward, cliath no moon, this way! “You have a cereal name,” she says. “Why? Did you make somebody mad?”
There’s rust cascading from a fireescape and a Rotager, but Lila is focused on this new kid, and that’s where her focus stays, all the way out of the scene.
ooc: *L* and thus I run out on y’all, sorry guys!
[Izzy Montoya] [no, really. gimme something here…]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) Re-rolls: 2
[Kemp Oates] He watched the pair walk off after Izzy vanished inside and then he hung-dropped from the lowest level of the fire escape, bending his knees to absorb impact. He totally avoided the crime scene, instead heading for the corner to watch the two vanish.
[Izzy Montoya] And today, today the echoes are hard to hear, few and far between, and not near long enough. Though now she knows Finn was seen hitting on the newbie hottie that joined Homicide a few days ago. That makes her smile briefly, before her brow furrows, slightly, and she rubs her temples, before fingers slide along the back of her neck, her head hanging as she tries to relax.
A slow breath, easy, a low exhale.
There it is. It comes like a cascade, and she reels with it, falling completely still as she listens… and listens… and listens. And when it is over, she takes a shaky breath and stands, looking around, and then makes her way back outside again, closing the doors behind her. Her fingers are shaking a little as she runs them back through her hair, and then reaches into her car for her cup of now cold coffee. She takes a drink, and the looks around for Kemp, to see if he’s still around.
Of course he is. She slams her car door closed again, and leans on the fender, watching him. When he turns back around, she lifts a hand in hello again.
[Kemp Oates] He lifted his chin in return to the wave and with a completely relaxed gait and expression, turned back to approach Izzy, though it made his skin crawl to come that close to anything with yellow fucking tape around it.
“Was that stupid again?”
Indicating the way Paul went, even though he knew full well who it had been. Maybe he just wanted someone else to connect the dots?
[Izzy Montoya] She’s a little shaky around the edges, but is regaining her calm quickly enough. By the time Kemp arrives and asks his question, the rest of her disgustingly cold coffee is gone, and her fingers have almost stopped trembling. She nods, slightly, in reply.
“Yeah. Fucker was gonna steal that car across the street – while I still had most my team here. They breed ’em stupid where he’s from, or what?”
[Kemp Oates] “How did you know he was going to steal it? Did he announce it?”
He took the shaking hands as part of the cold, it was freezing, snowing and that snow was sticking to the knit cap he was wearing and laying on his shoulders like dandruff.
[Izzy Montoya] “Practically.” A slight chuckle. “I’m a damn good detective. And he’s a shitty thief – he telegraphed it a mile away, and I watched him pick the car without an alarm and check the handle to see if it was locked. He admitted he was going to ‘borrow’ it to Lila.” The girl he walked away with, presumably.
A beat. “He didn’t like me much. I doubt he’ll approach me again.”
She glances over her shoulder at the scene and then nods to the coffee shop down the street. “My coffee’s cold. Buy you a drink?” at the very least, it’ll be warmer.
[Kemp Oates] “He didn’t like you much?”
He snorted in feigned disbelief.
“Imagine that. Huh.”
“Sure, I’ll take a drink, if ya don’t make me cry or something.”
[Izzy Montoya] If she doesn’t make him cry. She snorts. “No promises.”
She pulls her keys out and locks up the car, then turns to start the short walk to the diner down the way. She’s quiet, for a few steps, and then… “Can I ask you something?”
[Kemp Oates] “Sure, doesn’t mean I will answer, but go for it.”
A flake stuck to his lashes a moment before melting as he looked down towards her while walking.
[Kemp Oates] (( Claw to Andrew’s throat Dex+Brawl))
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)
to Izzy Montoya
[Kemp Oates] ((Damage…Str+succ))
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Izzy Montoya] She nods, slightly, and tries to work it into a question that doesn’t make her seem like a dumbass – though it’s likely hopeless. It’s not something that she really wants to ask anyway, but… better her than someone else.
“Alright. It’s about claiming and mating. I get that if one of ya’ll had a death wish and wanted to claim me, they’d come to you. My question is what if it’s between two Kin, instead… how does that work.”
[Kemp Oates] “Honestly? Right now, you would have to go through Daniel first, who would have to refer to me.”
He glanced at her again, one dark brow arched.
“I ain’t thrilled with John Thorton, ya know? I don’t blame him for shooting Wahya, but, the place was so wrong. I expect our Kin to think, to remember that revenge is a dish best served cold sometimes. And not to be so damned stupid that they fall for listening to another Tribe.”
[Izzy Montoya] She snaps her gaze to Kemp as he mentions john, and then does something it’s likely he’d never thought he’d see. She flushes. She’s flustered, that she might have been so obvious, and she looks down the street again instead, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat.
She clears her throat, and then. “Daniel has allowed us to see each other – supervised or for work, of course. When he watched us on my birthday, afterward it was his suggestion actually, that I might think of John that way. I’ve never wanted a mate. I’m not the settling kind – but I’ve known John a very long time, Kemp… and he was hurting. We do stupid things when we’re hurting, but that’s…” she shrugs. It’s an excuse, and she knows it, but had she been in that place, she might have done the same thing.
“Daniel said he saw a stability when we were together, that isn’t there when were alone. Noted that John makes me happy unlike he’s seen with anyone else. Not sure I trust Daniel’s perception on anything, but like I said, I’ve known John for better than a decade. I trust him like no other.”
She is quiet for a few more steps, and then… “My parents were both kin. They just up and got married when they figured it was time, and then let the nation know. Things were a little freer here back then. If… if we were to decide we wanted to be together… is it simply the human form of marriage, or…” she shakes her head, asking seems so stupid. “Does it give him any rights, with you all. Protective rights, should Daniel start swinging his fists again, that sort of thing – or is it just….”
She growls in frustration and admits. “It’s not often I’m at loss for words. You kinda kicked me off kilter here..”
[Kemp Oates] “John would not be higher than Daniel, that’s not going to happen. Eventually, when I see the two of you have grown, I will release both of you from this lesson you are now in.”
His breath fogged out as he spoke, stopping to look down at her in the falling snow. After drawing a deep breath he continued.
“Do I care if you marry John Thorton? No. He is not a Mate, he is not True, but he could be your husband, your other half. I would protect your rights in so much as another could not come along and claim you as Mate or Wife.”
His head cocked in an all too unhuman manner as he considered her.
“Is that the response you sought?”
[Izzy Montoya] “So I’m locked in until Daniel learns something?” She shakes her head, slightly, and sighs. Incarcerated forever. Yay.
But she stops as he does, and looks up at him when he gives her an answer, solidifying what she’d thought already, clarifying how it would work. Her smile is a brief, lopsided thing as she nods, and looks at the street again.
“Yeah. We talked about it, John and I. The questions were his, but I thought they’d come better from me. He doesn’t know I asked though. We’re… just talking, you know? I’ve been set in m ways a long time. It’s gonna take some time before we really decide what’s going to happen between us – and we can’t do that with quick conversations over work files.” A beat. “Daniel won’t let me see him without supervision without your word. Any chance we can get that word that it’s ok? He’s controlling every other aspect – I’d really like control of my own love life back.”
And if he thinks she isn’t dying a little inside to have to ask, he’d be wrong. A 32 year old woman shouldn’t have to ask a kid if she can date another 30+ year old man.
[Kemp Oates] “I will speak with Daniel. Until then, you must honor him. Though it is my hope it will become a two way street.”
He wrinkled his nose.
“Really? I don’t want to think about old people doing the nasty, ya know?”
[Izzy Montoya] She snorts. “I’m not old.”
She starts walking again toward the coffee shop. “I’ve done everything he’s demanded – I’ll even show up for my interrogation tonight. And I’ll even face him to tell him of my past when you say too. But I don’t think he’ll ever give two shits about anything but controlling me. He just… doesn’t care. I pity the women in his sept… I’m all for tradition? But you have to adapt when you live in a city, instead of buttfuck nowhere. And like it or not – women’s lib happened, and we’re an independent lot who wants more than husbands and squallin brats.”
[Kemp Oates] He stopped once more and looked down at Izzy.
“We live in two worlds Izzy. Day in and out we fight for survival. Tradition is what keeps us going, tradition and faith. We might survive without Kinfolk, because we can breed with humans. Kinfolk could survive without us, now and then spitting out some Trueborn who would be lost without those like him. Those of the Wolf. But what you must learn and remember is, we are not entirely human, just as we are not entirely wolf. We are something completely alien to each other. And as the beast inside of us demands, we tend to act on instinct. Instinct does not recognize women’t lib.”
Then he started walking again, calling over his shoulder.
“And you are too old.”
[Izzy Montoya] “Yet instinct should honor those below us, right? Why is it, I get railed at for asking what I did, told I’m disrespectful, and demeaned because of it – yet he can pound m into a wall, and claim tradition? That’s where it gets fucked up, Kemp. Just because I can’t best him in a fight, lacking the whole fur and fang thing, but that doesn’t give him the right to demean me. Not over a simple request – that was made respectfully the first half dozen times.” She shrugs. “I’m a bitch. I admit it. I claim it. I fight everyway I can, my duty to you all is above anything else and I’ve suffered for it too – and I’ve loved and lost as well. I accept that about you all – everything about it. It’d just be nice if it was a two way street.”
None of it is said with a raised voice or with anything other than just… exhaustion. She’s tired of fighting Daniel, tired of trying to get him to understand her even a bit. She’s learned, as she said, to simply not try anymore.
And then he starts walking, and calls her old again, and she snorts. A smooth swipe of her hand along the top of a parked car, and she beans him with a snowball. “Like hell I am…”
[Kemp Oates] He spun again, speaking to her in a low voice as snow fell around them.
“You need to remember, what you believe you did and are doing are deciphered in your brain in one way and yet others might not decipher it the same way. This goes for everyone. But I saw you before this happened. I saw what looked like a display of defiance and lack of respect. Granted, it can be irritating that it is not as you say, a two way street. But we are not equals Izzy. As much as it pains each of us at some time in life, we are not equals. This is not a democracy, it is a feudal way of life. The strong survive a little longer than the others, but we all pass in the end.”
[Joe Holst] Its a strange thing, so muscular a kid moving quietly. Standing still and watching as flakes drift and pass across his face. He’s there long enough that bald head and flight jacket are both more than a little dusted with white.
Just a rough outline cast in black, looming in an alleyway nearby. Perhaps close enough to hear the gist of things- but its not likely he catches details. Red and blue roller lights irritate a snort out of the bull of a Modi.. those things give him the creeps ever since Juvie.
[Izzy Montoya] “Respect is earned, Kemp, and even you said..”
She just stops. Closes her mouth and just shakes her head. She pushes back her hair, dampened by the falling snow, and just… stops. The muscle at her jaw jumps as she clenches her teeth, and then forces her jaw to relax again.
[Kemp Oates] The snort was what had his head lifting and he was looking through the dark and falling snow for the source.
“Respect is earned, yes Izzy and he has earned respect with blood and flesh since his first change. Each day he must pit his life for us to continue as a Race. And don’t you dare tell me he would not give his life for you if the need arose. It is simple fact.”
Then he lifted his voice.
“Hello Joe, what’da’ya know?”
[Joe Holst] The bray is muted, these days. Dulled in favor of introspection, and action.
“Less an’ less, Boss. Dese days its mostly presumptions an’ shit.”
The coded honorific slips from his mouth easily. Well schooled and drilled early in keeping their ways from Mortals, Joe never misses a beat, and the respect is clear in his voice.. if a bit more familiar than is strictly custom.
Icy eyes flick to Izzy and sweep across her. Curiosity might loom somewhere in them.. but is not so easy to notice as the wary sense of readiness.
[Izzy Montoya] She doesn’t answer. She also doesn’t believe it, but she doesn’t tell him that. You don’t near kill someone in one breath, then protect them in the other. That’d just makes him an abusive asshole. The fire of hatred Daniel’s built in her burns low and steady… despite the apparent calm way she still deals with him. Just long enough to get free. And only because she made a promise.
Fuck. Joe. THAT’S all she needs.
So she doesn’t say anything, just takes a step back and digs her pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, shaking one loose and propping it between her lips as she digs around in her pockets for her lighter. Once it’s found, she tucks the pack away, and flicks the bic, cupping hr hand around the flame as she sets it against the paper and tobacco. Cigarette lit, she tucks the lighter in the same pocket with the pack, and turns her head to exhale the smoke away from Kemp and Joe.
She feels the gaze of the modi sweep over her, but doesn’t do more than glance at him, a brow arching slightly, before she looks away again.
[Kemp Oates] “Ya know Izzy, I do worry if you and John were to become more than you are now, would ya breed poison in each other for your Kin like a crutch to each other? Or would ya grow?”
This was spoken low, then his voice raised calling Joe closer. One would have to wonder if he were testing limits or what.
“Joe, ya remember Izzy? Izzy, say hello Joe.”
[Izzy Montoya] Softly… “You know why I quit trying to reason with Daniel? Because John asked me too.. asked me to stop trying to make him understand why it bothered me so, all without his knowing the truth himself. A truth I’ve only told you.” She shrugs slightly, and sighs. “He’s the only one I can trust completely. I can’t tell you what would happen, no one knows. I can only tell you what I know to be true – John’s the only one I would ever accept. I’m his for the asking… and always have been.”
Say hello to Joe. She glances at Kemp, and then back to the Modi. “Evenin.”
[Joe Holst] An odd sense of determination sweeps across Joe’s form. Its not precisely that stone faced waiting cruelty given to Modi on the brink of battle.. it seems more intellectual. Turned inward, as though tightening the restraints that keep the Beast behind his teeth and the shine from warlike eyes.
Battered Doc Martens crunch against road grit as Joe responds to the Jarl’s unspoken command. He steps from the curb and sidles between two parked cars to approach the pair- sketching a triangle of three bodies. At first, and certainly to any mortal eye, it might seem as though he were ‘casing’ Izzy.. but the truth can be seen in any nature documentary. Joe chooses a position from which he can easily look over Kemp’s shoulder to see anything behind him. Unseen bonds forging themselves under the weight of ugly orange streetlights and the daily strain of war.
He doesn’t interrupt Izzy, doesn’t inject himself into the conversation. When she greets him he nods back, repeating the same sort of almost- greeting.
“Yeah.. Hi.”
Not quite a Friendly family. Perhaps one makes do.
[Kemp Oates] He turned fully to Izzy again, continuing because she spoke but did not listen so well.
“You are not listening with your ears, only with a part of your heart. I have no desire whatsoever to push a True on you as a mate. Nor would I stick one with you as a Mate. My only concern is for the darkness I sense. It spreads best between those who have a love for each other, and better yet on a pillow. That is my concern.”
[Kora] It’s a tribal gathering on a dark, windswept street, then. Maybe it’s the death that attracts them – a murder natural or otherwise, passionate or planned – maybe it’s just the inherent bone-gristle memory of it: blood on the snow. Footsteps from behind – soft, perhaps, if only because she’s lighter than the males – but not silent. It’s foolish to think you could sneak up on a Rotagar and dangerous to try to sneak up on a Modi.
Joe’s the first to see her, then – triangulated, watching over Kemp’s shoulder, behind his back – all enshadowed, just a silhouette at the end of the street: female, lean through the torso, her wool peacoat flared out at the level of her hips, with a crown of pale hair that catches the light and shines when she passes beneath the ugly pools of light cast by the few working streetlamps. The closer she comes, the more recognizable she is. There is something of animal grace in her stride, the physical surety of the beast within. Her arms are crooked at the elbows, hands stuffed into the pockets of her winter coat, her head up.
When she’s close enough to see and be seen, Kora lifts her chin sidelong in a wordless salute to Joe. The streetlight is behind her, casting her pale face in long shadows, painting her pale hair a dull, throbbing orange.
[Izzy Montoya] She drags her hand through her hair – and even now, she doesn’t raise her voice, despite her frustration. “Dammit Kemp, I’ve ALWAYS put my duty to the nation above everything else. Just because I fight you on some things doesn’t mean I’ve ever stepped away from my duty – please see the whole of me, not just what pisses you off. I’ve given up everything for the Nation, more than once. Sometimes it makes me angry – sometimes it makes me bitter. I’m Fenrir, for crissakes. We’re known for being angry and bitter. I know I can’t fight like you do – but I do everything I can with what I have. I believe in this war, and I’ll continue to fight it where I can…”
She snaps her jaw shut again, and then shakes her head – and takes a breath. Holds it. Exhales. Then, just as softly. “If there’s anyone that can help John find a level head, and a place in the nation, I can. He’s been kin for a couple of years and has lost a lot in that time – I’ve a lifetime of experience to draw on. If anyone has a chance of helping him find stability – it’s me.”
[Kemp Oates] “I give you back your words Izzy. Please see the whole of us and not just what pisses you off. We have always done our duty. We have given up everything for the Nation, and will give our very lives, even in protecting those that do not want it. We are Fenrir for Gaia’s sake. We are known for being bitter, angry and temperamental and physical first, think later. We do everything we can with what we have and believe in what we were born in to, this war that began with our birth and will end with our deaths.”
He too took a deep breath, letting it out.
“And I pray that together, you and John grow and don’t wither further inside.”
[Joe Holst] Body language. Its all in the lines that cast light away in a certain way. All in the tilt of a head, the rise or dip of a face (muzzle). Its all Joe gives, and its all Kemp needs to know someone is coming up behind him. Someone familiar. Someone Joe would run beside.
As Kora becomes more recognizable, gives him a greeting, Joe’s heavy jaw swings toward her respectfully. Even kings dip their heads to Skalds. Even kings in their own minds.
Something in the drift of snow casts Chicago in a more primitive style.. perhaps it is that same change that brings the wolf more to the fore in Joe these days. His lips part, jaw dropping open just enough to flash teeth in a very lupine expression of Joy at her approach.
Then his attention swings back to Kemp and Izzy- his expression widens in incredulity as Izzy describes herself as a giver of stability. Chill eyes flick back to Kemp- and though the boy’s mouth opens wider, he swallows whatever he’d had to say and contents himself with chewing fiercely on his ever- present gum.
[Kemp Oates] Slowly he lifted his head, having seen the change in Joe and knowing full well he could trust Joe not to let a threat sneak up on him. Only after his last words to Izzy did he turn his head to give Kora a lift of his chin, saying.
“Say hello Izzy.”
[Izzy Montoya] “YOU think later. Daniel only thinks he is right. Immovable.” She takes a deep drag and then exhales away from them.
And then snorts, amused.
“If I only saw of you what pisses me off, Kemp – I wouldn’t have come to you with my questions, or told you what I have.”
She ignores Joe’s reaction. It’s likely for the best. She does turn as Kora joins, and with a roll of her eyes at Kemp, she does what she would have anyway – though she’s tempted to mimic him exactly [hello, Izzy], she settles on another “Evenin.”
[Kora] The falling snow dampens the sounds of the city, swallowing the rumblings of traffic and transit, the hum of heat pumps and furnaces, the rattle of exhaust fans, dulling it all into a quiet rumble. Only the wail of sirens break the lull of background noise, or the metallic scrape of the salt truck’s blades and chains on the pocked and pitted pavement. There’s enough ambient light in the city – the nuclear glow reflecting and refracting against the new-falling layer of snow below their feet and off the low roil of stormclouds above their heads – that Kora’s pale face resolves from the dark strands of shadow a handful of yards before she reaches the trio. She returns Joe’s flash of teeth with a faint, crooked grin, which expands to include Kemp as she walks up.
Her nose and ears are red with the cold, and there’s a shine in her eyes from it – but the falling snow, the wind – is familiar, elemental, and she doesn’t turn her face away from it. “Detective – ” is Kora’s greeting to the kinswoman, low and quiet as she walks up alongside her tribesmates, bumping Kemp’s left arm with her right companionably as the trio expands – naturally, physically – to include her. “War-handed-yuf. Kemp-rhya.” There’s a rich subtext to her voice, and a certainly familiarity, even with the honorifics, that makes the greeting casual, immediate.
[Kemp Oates] Now Izzy would see another thing that marked them more than Human. He snorted at Izzy’s need for last words, even saying.
“Not seeing beyond the nose Izzy and yes, you will once more insist you are correct. I fully expect this from experience.”
Then he was moving, turning to brush against Kora then Joe as they mingled as wolves would, greeting each other with touch and scent, even if in human skin. His entire manner relaxed with these two.
[Izzy Montoya] .
to Izzy Montoya
[Joe Holst] The steam of breaths scented in greeting, murmured things that take on a deeper role than mere pleasantries. They pass back and forth heedless of wind and wrap the odd trio in the sorts of stories that will be told over beer one day, or sung in throats cracking and strained under the weight of the glories told to rapt faces. The stories only wait to happen.
Joe’s eyes flicker back to Izzy for a moment, but do not linger long. The kin does seem more stable these days, and apparently that is enough for the formidable Modi. The momentary politeness is an offering.. but not quite a relaxing of the guard. He nods briefly, assuming she’d delivered what she’d had to say and would be returning to work, a short ways distant.
[Kemp Oates] They mingled a moment and then he spoke to Izzy again.
“Listen, about that drink. Rain check? We will see you back to your car before vanishing on ya.”
[Izzy Montoya] And thus, dismissed, she nods. “Sure. Interrogation time anyway.” She chuckles as he offers to see her to the car, which isn’t that far away.
“I’ll be fine. I don’t think anything will happen within a block – but if you insist.” She shrugs, and accepts it easily enough, whichever they decide before she turns to head back toward her car.
[Kemp Oates] The entire way back to the car was a movement of fluid grace and force that only a fool would step into as three Garou walked an armed Kin back to her car. Once there, he gave Kora and Joe a look and murmured one word only.
“Hunt?”
With glee in his eyes, he lead the other two away.
[Kemp Oates] Sleep time!
to Izzy Montoya, Joe Holst, Kora
[Kemp Oates] Thank you!
to Izzy Montoya, Joe Holst, Kora
[Izzy Montoya] [night!thanks for playin! :) ]