[Rory] (123 not me!)
[Rory] .
to Rory
[Gina McClaren] *Chinatown. The most wonderful place in chicago, save the docks and beaches. Travel to another world without leaving city limits. It was enough for now, to satisfy a little strider’s wanderlust. Kin though she may be, Owl whispered though her blood, insistant she keep moving. Never stagnate. Carry on. Chicago would very soon become the place she’d stayed the longest in 20 years. Perhaps the drifting was like smoking. Half the battle was the habit. Skirts flutter in the wind, Gina perched on the back of a bus bench, hair in a thick braid down her back. She’s wrapped tight in a crimson coat, canvas shopping bags leaning against black leather boots. This was where the market came to life, in all its sparkling, colorful glory. Night time. Languages she didn’t understand. Foreign food scents in the air. Packs of idle asian youths laughing and jabbering about who knows what, drinking all manner of exotic things. The pikey closed her eyes and basked in the busy neon glow, imagining she was in hongkong, or tokyo, or bangkok. Somewhere thrilling and exotic.*
[Rory] Rory likes Chinatown. She likes the people, that she can hide so easily among, despite her pale skin, red hair, and all that rage. She can slip through them and cling to the shadows and hide behind glittering neon. No one talks to her, or makes herspeak to them. Safety in numbers, or some such.
It’s not long, though, before she sees her new ward, her friend, sitting on a bus bench. She makes her way closer, sneaky sneaky redhead, then simply takes a seat on the bench next to the pikey and nudges her with a shoulder in hello.
[Gina McClaren] *Gina’s eyes snap open and she twitches in alarm, look of worry barely registering on exotic features before the small Indian woman is smiling instead. Her knee bumping Rory back as she hums pleasantly.*
Lo there Ginger top. How ye holden oop?
*Its a strange thing. Rory’s demeanor, her personality so at odds with the raw fury that thrummed just underneath her skin. The moon so full, the Fianna seemed unhinged. That quiet girl no one suspected until one day she just.. snapped. The pikey shakes her shoulders, pushing the thought out of her head. That was the rage. Thats all. A braid is brought round her shoulder, shiny hair fussed with and smoothed under the neon lights.*
[Rory] She smiles shyly up at Gina when she’s nudged back, and then simply lays her head against Gina’s knee. So odd, the way rage fairly simmers underher skin, burning and waiting to be called, yet Rory is always so calm, so controlled.
Right up until she’s not, of course.
“Good. You?”
[Gina McClaren] Peachy keen ah suppose. Be happier wi’ some furniture. Accidently popped me couch wi’ a funnyfag. Had tae pick oop a new wan.
*A rueful quirk of her lips as she lifts up her canvas grocery bag. Couch apparently in there. She draws out a blue bottle and pops the top, offering it to Rory. Apparently to sniff.*
Like tha?
[Rory] She giggles as Gina says she popped her couch, and hides it against Gina’s knee, until she pulls something out the bag. Rory leans in for a sniff, and smiles up at Gina.
“S’Nice. I can look at the Srift Thore to see if they have a ceal rouch if you want…”
[Gina McClaren] *Gina laughs aloud as Rory hides her face and giggles. A war machine shouldn’t giggle. Not on a full moon. Not radiating supernatural rage that was pusling off of the redhead, making her seem unstable. A dusky hand swipes a knit cap and tosses it in the ahroun’s lap, scratching through fiery curls with gentle familiarity. The bottle of coconut smelling conditioner is tucked back in a bag and set on the bench beside Rory.*
That’d be nice darlin. Ah dinnae mind thrift. Jest reckon bubble furniture’s easier tae carry.
Tha there was conditioner. Ye put et en yer hair tae make et easy tae comb. Ets a special type fer curls. Thought ye might try et.
[Rory] She yelps as her hat is stolen, but it’s all in fun, especially as Gina’s fingers and nails play in her hair, familiar and gentle. Rory never had someone so easily friendly and familiar with her, no touches in affection, nothing to show she was wanted, or even seen. It’s taken a while to get used to it from Gina, from her Alpha, but she wouldn’t have it any other way now.
She takes the little bag and hugs the bottle close as she ducks her head, shyly. “Thank you.” Such a girly thing, really, it’s odd – and appreciated all at once.
“I’ll bwing sy there tomorrow.” She has a little stashed away, and has some left over from parts for the water heater too.
[Gina McClaren] [brb]
[Gina McClaren] *It was with teasing softness and warm that Gina operated. An easy intimate charm that had her lovers in abundance. Friends, true friends, however, she was slow to accumulate. Everyone loves the happy slut, but few wanted to keep her close. Rory, by grace of God – or Gaia, she supposed, was a friend, and more, someone who Gina could dote on unabashedly. Fingers scrith through curly hair, seemingly knowing all the right places to rub.*
Ah’d like tha.
*Dark eyes rest on the Metis in consideration, pikey finally leaning down to speak more intimately to her new warder.*
Rory loves, es et strange.. always bein en yer monkey suit?
[Rory] She offers Gina that shy smile again, pleased that she made Gina happy with something so simple as looking for some furniture. Rory likes to take care of her friends – as they are so few and far between. She spent the first half of her life without any at all.
So when Gina asks her question, she gives it thought, before answering honestly.
“Sometimes. Fy mingers are better in monkey skin, for thixing fings. But firth borm is easiest.”
[Gina McClaren] Ah suppose sae. Must be a bit like aulways wearin flippers oor some sooch.
*Chimes the pikey thoughtfully, pausing to untangle a charm from Rory’s thick red hair. Careful not to pull too much. No one wanted to jerk hair out of a full moon ON a full moon. It was in the kin handbook, she was sure.*
Was thenkin ah might start a flophouse sort o theng. Once ah build oop enough money like.
[Rory] She wrinkles her nose. “In Arizona, was one worn bith flippers. swam crike lazy.”
She tips her head, slightly, and looks up at Gina. “Flophouse?”
[Gina McClaren] Place fer wounded folk wi’ oot kin tae come rest oop. Have a meal. Rest. Aye?
*Gina shrugs her shoulders and ruffles red hair before tugging the metis cap back on her. A smile as she considers.*
Sort o like.. the Brotherhood. But nae fer the damned public. Aulrecht tae sit aboot en yer war-form an’ scratch. aye?
[Rory] “oh. oh!” she grins up at Gina, before ducking her head into her cap again, tugging it into place. She giggles at the idea of a bunch of Crinos sitting around scratching themselves, and then nods, slightly.
“A good idea. I don’t like the hotherbrood.”
[Gina McClaren] Nae. me neither. tae many kin all taegether. An et bein open tae the public like es daft. reckon ets the financin et bit wha’ worries me a shade.
*Her lips quirk sideways in a halfhearted scowl. Thoughts slow to move about in her brain tonight, with the distractions Chinatown has to offer. Even now she’s watching a couple argue in a soft tonal language she doesn’t understand. Perking up, curious.*
[Rory] She nods, agreeing, and then lays her head against Gina’s knee again, comfortable with the kin like she is with no other, but for Edwin. She watches the people walk around them, the arguing and fighting and laughter, and so much more. idle fingers tugging at the frayed edge of the split in her jeans at the knee.
“It’ll work out. I can felp hix up a place.”
[Gina McClaren] *Gina nods and sighs, looking up as a bus rumbles down the busy street, screeching to a stop noisily a few blocks away. The 117. That was her. A squeeze to Rory’s shoulders.*
Ah’m headed home. Ye coomin wi? Oor es et back tae the packhouse taenecht? Ah’ve a bed now.
*She adds, sweetening the deal with a laugh of mock accomplishment.*
[Rory] She grins and ducks her head. “I pave hatrols. I’ll walk you fome hirst.”
She stands and picks up her conditioner, holding it against her chest before reaching for Gina’s other bags, to offer to carry them home as well.
“Will finish teater homorrow.”
[Gina McClaren] [and fade to terrifying the poor bus patrons!]
[Rory] (yay! thank you! :) )