[Brodie Taylor] Brodie sits with his latest batch of Shine, filling flask after flask from a huge glass carboy. The still is set up today in an abandoned building, with a variety of flavoring agents nearby. Likely, only a Gnawer would decide to taste something made in such surroundings.
“This’ll put hair on yer chest, Rafi. Bacon-flavored Shine. Think it’ll come out this time?? I added onions too. Jest fer shits.” The cowboy’s drawl is wider tonight, but then, he’s been sniffing fumes.
Yep, shine and pigeon shit. Hell of a combination of smells in the old derelict building.
[Rafael Durante] There are few brave enough to try the concoctions Brodie is able to come up with. Those who do often wind up barking up a lung, a spleen, some internal organ that ought to be best left inside and untouched by the atrocity that is his shine. It is by blood and experience alone that Rafi is able to withstand the assault on the senses, on the stomach.
The moon, Brodie’s moon, hangs pregnant and white over their heads, in through the dusty windows. A sickly yellow light bulb puts out a thin sheen of illumination for them to go by, and Rafi dips up a Mason jar, filled to the halfway mark with innocent-looking clear liquid that smacks of the aforementioned flavorings.
He does not need to bring it close to his nose to pick up the porcine bouquet. He peers at it with something akin to distrust in his black eyes, then takes a large swallow. Somehow, he doesn’t choke.
“Ay, guey! This is… what you call it, potent?”
[Brodie Taylor]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Brodie Taylor] Brodie approaches the new mysterious drink like he approaches life. He’s got a philosophy here, something evolved from the bowels of his still and aged with every point of renown he has ever earned.
“Life Kicks Ass, an’ So Do I!!” He raises the jar and gulps the contents, a big gulp for a big man, no holding back. “GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
It’s a scream of sorts. Then his voice speaks again, a little hoarse for a werewolf. “Bacon n onion vodka. Good shit.”
[Rafael Durante] Brodie’s reaction brings a delighted cackle out of the tiny Mexican’s chest. Sitting atop a throne of stacked, yellowing boxes, Rafael rocks back and slaps a hand on the meat of his thigh. He himself had taken a negligible sip, but his alimentary canal is built to withstand the most noxious of substances. Another sniff is taken, and he, not to be outdone, takes a stiff belt out of his jar.
Tears spring to his eyes, and this time he coughs.
“Cabrón,” he swears, grimacing. “You don’ taste the onions until it’s too late.”
[Brodie Taylor] “Hell maybe I should soak some Habaneros in it, ya figure? Couldn’t hurt it none. Anythin else? Hell, some nice honest sweat maybe. Hair of the werewolf maybe?” He laughs, a deep, pleased bellylaugh. “Gotta give some of this ta Danny-girl.”
Over the totem, Brodie hollers for his alpha, but nothing happens. Just silence. The ahroun goes silent too, no rambling where he should be.
[Rafael Durante] “Bacon, onions, and habañeros? This ain’t a fuckin’ stew, guey!”
He nods his agreement at the decision to save some for their newest member–he’s seen that girl put away some absolutely vile Dumpster delights, stuff that has been fermenting in the garbage and summer heat for days. If anyone would appreciate the Fianna’s shine, it would be the pack’s other Gnawer.
Over the link the pack shares, Brodie’s voice barks out a call for their alpha, Jon, missing. It has been a long time since Rafael has seen or spoken to their Theurge, and the ensuing silence sends a crease between his heavy eyebrows.
“He starting to worry me. I don’ like this.”
A sour taste is swallowed down the back of his throat, and he takes another hair-raising hit off of the Mason jar. This time he simply sniffs loosened fluid up his sinus cavities and breathes, “Gyah!”
[Brodie Taylor] (Yay!! In an abandoned warehouse!)
[Brodie Taylor] “Why not, gooey? Hey, this stuff ain’t half bad. An’ didn’t ya know pepper vodka’s damned popular in clubs? Figure stronger shit’d be more fun. Hey, wonder if i could do a BBQ vodka? No, hell, better go straight BBQ bourbon.” He slugs more back and then leans on the crate, looks away to one side, not meeting Rafi’s eyes just yet.
HUGE garou. POWERFUL. And he ain’t the alpha. He ain’t the beta. COuld swallow either of them whole maybe. “Don’t want no power struggle, man. Ain’t good.”
Yeah, there’s a hint of a pout.
[Danny Jones] Sometimes, only Chinese will do. Course, the poor starving gnawer girl that she is, is known for dumpster diving at it’s finest, and is oddly proud of the fact. She isn’t quite ready to go diving yet, no. She is, instead, wandering around the streets, walking some tension off, just moving.
Around the warehouses, she wanders, and kicks a can across the asphalt, making no attempt to be quiet as she hums something or another under her breath. Sounds like a lullabye. It most likely is a direct result of watching the Sound of Music once again with Carolina this afternoon.
Yeah, shut up. She’s happy to have someone that appreciates her finer tastes in musicals. Wait till she introduces her to Grease! Rafi’s gonna rue the day…
[Rafael Durante] Brodie averts his gaze, but Rafael’s remains firmly planted on his Omega, the whole hulking mass of him, as he leans against a stack of crates. The Gnawer’s feet are swinging out and back, heels of his battered Converses thud tha-thud tha-thuding against the dense cardboard as he thinks.
“Don’ wan’ no power struggle neither. We been following him a long time, and I trust the fucker, but I don’ like it when he take off like this and don’ tell nobody where he’s going, you know?”
Outside one of the broken windows there sounds the clattering of aluminum against asphalt, stray rocks, and his attention perks up and away from their conversation. Eyes narrow in the weak light, and he hops down from his box. The landing puffs a small eruption of dust up around his ankles, and his short strides take him to the window where he had heard the noise.
Well, look who it is.
Rafael sticks a finger in either side of his mouth and looses a short-lived yet nonetheless high-pitched whistle.
“S’Danny,” he explains, over his shoulder, before his voice comes booming out of the darkness. “Hey, gabacha, get the hell off my lawn!”
[Brodie Taylor] “Yep, jon? ain’t been here much since we got sent here.” Brodie’s head’s down again. He busies himself capping bottles and decanting the rest of his latest concoction, till Rafi signal’s for the new chick.
Then his head comes the hell up, and his shoulders square back. So much for omega attitude. There’s a particularly fixed look in his green gaze, waiting for his pet ragabash to show up.
[Danny Jones] The piercing whistle gets her attention, of course, but it’s the voice afterwards, and the booming statement, that brings that wicked grin to her face as she swings her leg back and swings, sending that can careening into the darkness – where a cat’s startled shriek tells her where it landed.
Oops.
She turns toward the building, and heads that way, calling back just as loudly (Gaia have mercy)… “Hey cabrón, besa mi asno!” Santi’s been teaching her Spanish, after all. At least enough to send retorts Rafi’s way.
And said pet Ragabash comes a sauntering right on into that warehouse. “Wassis? A pack meeting without lil ole me? again? No bueno, amigos…” But its said with a teasing grin, of course.
[Rafael Durante] A rattling door is hauled open, the building opening its maw for the other tiny Gnawer. Silhouetted in the opening is Rafi, wearing those horrendous plaid cargo shorts and one of Santiago’s black wife beaters, his high topped Converses. He holds on one hand a Mason jar filled halfway with a suspicious clear fluid, and this is pushed at Danny as she comes within harassing range.
“You ever won’er what a drunk pig taste like? Try this.”
He closes the door behind her, and his steps lead them back to the center of the warehouse floor, where Brodie is packaging what’s left of the flavored shine.
“We was just talking about Jon,” he tells Danny.
[Brodie Taylor] “Jest in time, Danny. Wanna drink of my latest?” He drawls in a lazy voice rather at odds with the urge to pounce and play. Now ain’t the time though.
Might spill his new batch.
Still, he’s close to quivering, like a dog watching a cat that’s too damned close to resist. Brodie’s nostril’s flare, his eyes fixed on the little lady packmate.
What the new hooch actually smells like is… bizarre, likely.
[Danny Jones] She arches a brow slightly and takes the jar being shoved at her. She sticks her tongue out at the boys and sniffs at the stuff suspiciously, and then tastes it. And makes a face, and coughs and stares at it again. “Ya tryin to kill me already?!”
And then she promptly takes another drink. or two. She ain’t no fuckin’ sissy, after all. “This ain’t gonna put fur on mah tits, is it? cuz that’d be wrong on SO many levels.”
She grins and hops up on some crate or another and tips her head. “Oh?” about Jon.
[Rafael Durante] “Yeah, I don’ think Santi’d be too happy if you came home with a rug on your pecho.”
His box throne is reclaimed as he plants both hands on the top of the stack and boosts himself into the middle, the cardboard sagging slightly under the influence of his compact mass. Brodie is eyed for a moment, dark gaze taking in his stance, the expression on his face, where his eyes go. They’ve known each other for a long time, and yet when it gets to be this time of the month, even he has difficulty figuring the guy out.
He learned it’s not a good time to tease him about knitting or females, if numerous thrashings have served their purpose in any fashion whatsoever.
“Yeah,” he answers. “We ain’ seen him for a while. Been waiting for him to turn up for weeks, nothing. Can’ even get his ass on the link.”
[Brodie Taylor] “Woman, ya get furry tits every time ya shift. We all seen em.” He snorts, then slumps backwards, turns his face off Danny. Scratches his back, where his Axe is tattooed in.
“Makes me ansy, mates. Ain’t all here. We ain’t all here.” Repeat, just for emphasis. From slumping, he gets up and starts to pace, tension ratcheting up a little more. “Bacon shine and full moons. S’ gettin ta me. He ain’t supposed ta be quiet. Wanna look fer him. Wanna hit his ass hard. Wanna BITE somethin.”
One lip curls up, the ahroun with his moon, and his eyes creep towards the nearest breakable thing.
[Danny Jones] She tips her head, animal-like n the gesture, as if she’s storing some piece of information. And she is. “pecho – tits? or just chest…” Gotta hand it to the girl, she is doing her damnedest to learn the language of her friend, future packmate, and his brother – her boyfriend. (Heh. Cue blush.)
She takes another choking swig of that clear stuff, and then looks over at Brodie, and leans a little toward Rafi. “Is it just me, or… does he look like he’s gonna pounce my fine ass any second?” She doesn’t sound scared, of course, just amused.
ANd then Brodie says he wanna bite something and she blinks. “Leave mah furry tits outa this, ya big galloot!” She grins at him though, and doesn’t seem too concerned.
About Jon though, she don’t really have no say. Except this. “I wish he’d show up, least long enough to get in with ya’ll full. I’m gettin fuckin antzy without havin no way to contact ya’ll if some shit goes down. An got others smartin off that I ain’t pack till full pack an shit. S’getting nerve wrackin. Startin to think ya’ll might not really want me n shit.” The grin is still there, just lopsided.
[Brodie Taylor] Yeah. that does it. Not want her in the pack?
Brodie yells something that sounds a lot like … somethign unintelligable and launches himself at her, body held in play mode, not a full serious attack, intending to knock her the hell over and… what he has in mind from there is anyone’s guess.
He’s… fast.
“NAAAAWAAAAACHAAAAA!!!!!!!! NAAAWAAACHAAAAA! HAAAAHAAAAHAAAA!”
And… he’s drooling. And.. he’s going furry.
[Brodie Taylor] (Think.. Animal from Muppets!!)
to Danny Jones, Rafael Durante
[Rafael Durante] It has been something of a group effort, drilling enough Spanish into Danny’s skull for her to be able to communicate with–hell, even just understand–Rafael, who after a decade still finds himself lapsing into his native tongue when excited or agitated, whose sentences are peppered with words that require translation.
She asks what pecho means, and he pauses as he processes the English she’s using.
“Pecho… em, chest, ¿que no? Tits are las tetas.” He pantomimes a pair of breasts, as if he needs to illustrate what it is he’s trying to say.
Then the matter of Jon. The great Ahroun grows more and more perturbed as time passes, and before Rafael can respond to Danny’s concerns, valid though they may be, the Fianna is launching himself at the girl. Rafael huffs out a breath and jumps down from the box, moving to haul the rapidly furry-fying mass off of the younger Gnawer.
“Por el amor del cielo, baboso, que te pasa, huh? ¡Cálmate!”
[Danny Jones] ….blink. She tosses her jar back towards the corner Rafe is in. “Aw SHIT – watchit!” an then she’s bracing for inpact as she gets attacked by the big giant furball with control issues. You’d think she’d be upset, but nah. She’s fuckin’ laughin her ass off as she is promptly knocked ass over teakettle and starts to go furry on her. Literally go furry that is.
He’s fast, brodie is, and Danny is too – she just rolls with the pounce, and is laughing as Rafi pulls him off her – and even manages a jolly “English, Rafi!” Before she’s helping him get Brodie off her by squirming until her feet are planted in Brodie’s belly and she’s PUUUUUUUUSHING him off…. still laughing.
[Brodie Taylor] SQUISH!!
He garbles his way through his non-human words, not even caring, and tries his damnest to run his huge wet drippy bacon-and-onion scented tongue across her bare face. And if he misses? She still gets drooled on.
Message sent.
[Rafael Durante] When Danny starts laughing, Rafael aborts his rescue mission, releasing the larger man–beast–from his grip and stepping back. There is a look of bemusement upon his face, and he crosses his arms over his chest while he waits for the Ahroun to get whatever it is in his system, out of it.
“I tell you what, man, gonna have to take your ass hun’ing after this. You way too fucking wound up.”
[Danny Jones] She makes a face “EEEEEEEEEEEW! GROOOOOOSS HEY!” pause, and she sniffs. “YOU HAD BACON? where’s the bacon! You… you… cabrón!” And she dissolves into laughter again, still trying to push him off her.
“Ya had dinner without me! How COULD you! I ain’t ate nuthin for like… a whole 20 minutes or some shit like that! I’m wastin away to NUTHIN! Can’t ya SEE? LOOKIT how SKINNY I iz!” She finally squirms away and manages a lovely pose, looking positively STARVED…
[Brodie Taylor] Brodie yips a laugh at the woman and rolls off, making sure to GRIND his shoulders into her as he goes. Got hisself a baaad look in his eyes. By the time he’s up, he’s back to homid.
“S’in the vodka. Bacon and onion Vodka. Goodshit, ain’t it?? Hell, I ain’t even puked yet an I been workin on it fer while now. What we gonna do bout Jon? We gonna go lookin for him?”
HE’s up, so he starts pacing.
[Brodie Taylor] (gimme a few, fixing somethign!)
[Rafael Durante] Relief settles upon the Philodox’s frame as his packmate gets himself together, picks himself up off the floor (and Danny) and settles back into his birth skin. He pinches his nose and sniffs as if he has a cold, his sinuses still well and cleared from the fumes put off by the shine, then reaches up and scratches at his scalp as he regards the two.
A question, then. Back to business. Rafael clears his throat and ladles up another half-jar of shine.
“That prolly ain’ a bad idea. If we gonna do that, I want to get Danny bonded before we head out. She been in good with us for what, two months now, and Jon ain’ been around to have nothing to do with that.”
A hearty swig is taken off of the jar, and he glances over at the other Gnawer as if to gauge her reaction. Though he may not have heard the talk going on amongst the other Garou regarding her yes-but-no status with the pack, he isn’t going to delude himself into thinking that it hasn’t been hard. She had proven her mettle and not yet been rewarded for it, after all. This has not left his mind.
[Danny Jones] She sticks her tongue out at Brodie again. “waste of good fuckin bacon. To make it up to me ya gone get me a double bacon burger on the way home.” Nods. With that every present grin.
She tips her head, slightly, and watches them. She ain’t even try and hide the relief at the thought of being bonded again at last. “Ain’t gun lie, I’d be most appreciative to be back with ya right an’ proper. I ain’t tried to hound ya’ll, knowin Jon ain’t around. Just settles th’ mind a bit, knowin ya got in good, ya dig?”
She grins at ’em both. “Then I won’t feel guilty when I kick Brodie’s ass next time he pounces me an’ slobbers all over mah favorite shirt, neither.”
[Brodie Taylor] “Gah. Bread. Don’t see how ya eat the bun. Then again, I don’t see how ya eat most the shit ya eat, Little Gnawer Chick.” Brodie sighs, and drinks his dinner. When the burn is past, he nods slowly.
“Supposed ta wait fer Jon. But sheeeeiiit. He ain’t here. Maybe we need this now. Not ta wait fer his honorable ass. Cause Danny thinks she’s gonna kick ma ass and I gotta set her right ’bout that. So. When we do it? An think we could head out the country? Twisters in the city, ain’t so good. Plus, maybe we can snatch a cow? I want some real meat. “
Wistful, at the end, in a fanged, slobbery way.
[Rafael Durante] “You wanna head out ahora, now? Tonight?”
It is a reflexive question, one meant to stall while he picks his way through the rest of what Brodie has said. He’s said a lot, as usual, as per his deed name, and Rafael returns to it after a moment.
“We can’ wait for Jon for too long. Can’ have everything stopping when he decides to up and vanish, ¿que no? If he ain’ gonna be around we still gotta be able to function. An’ we ain’ been doing much of nothing since we last saw him. Been waiting to get this girl bonded to Twister for too damn long, man.”
A great, disgusting drag is taken off of the shine, and Rafael grimaces for a long moment before hiccuping and loosing a great belch into the contained warehouse air. As if that’s supposed to settle it.
[Danny Jones] She just grins at Brodie “Ya be surprised. I little, but I’m FAST.”
To the rest, she is quiet – it’s kinda disconcertng still, most likely, because she can be quiet. Sometimes. Anyway, she just reclaims her jar and looks around to refill it. “Ya just give me time to call Santi an’ tell him g’night an’ I’m all for leavin when ya ready.” She’s easy. “though ya KNOW I prefer cement… right?”
[Brodie Taylor] “”Sheeeeit, Danny? Ya eat CEMENT TOO???” Flabbergasted. Just.. “Hell, just when i thunk I got Gnawers all figured. Ya go an et the damn road. Hell, Rafi, ya gotta bond her ta Twister. She’s more destructive that HIM!”
Snort. He hand’s Danny her own jar. “Make yer call. I gotta set this shit in th truck. Figure we can party after.”
[Brodie Taylor] (fading out chicas!)
to Danny Jones, Rafael Durante
[Danny Jones] (uh – we lose Rafi?)
[Danny Jones] (yup. she’s gone. *L*)
[Brodie Taylor] sorry! goign to log out, will be on tomorrow if you want to do scene for bonding!)
to Danny Jones