[Karl holds the Line] Bronzeville underpass. Right on the border of Chinatown. The Rotagar has a tendancy to drift by here, even stop at times, just leaning against the hard concrete wall of the underpass support. War-Handed had told him that someone might be moving in on Chinatown, and he had asked Karl’s help to keep an eye on things. So the Rotagar does.
Not because he is obligated, or has a lot of free time to spend, but because War-handed had asked him too. Dressed in a pair of dark jeans, with a simple grey tee and a well-worn leather jacket, he would be othing out fo the ordinary, if it was not for the Rage in him, and those piercing glacial blue eyes that kept humans at bay. Shadows underneath the underpass keep him even less visible now, even if someone was looking for him, they could find him easily enough.
One leg lifted, foot against the support, he seems relaxed, almost lazy as he lets his gaze wander the area and the buildings where Bronzeville becomes Chinatown.
[Marni]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Marni] This? is ridiculous. It really really is. Marni’s always had an appetite before, but now it’s bordering on insanity – and this ordeal has barely even started. In a few weeks she’s gonna PRAY for morning sickness, really. Either way, it’s the opposite problem today, and there is food here somewhere and she’s gonna find it because seriously, O. M. G., she’s gonna fuckin’ starve to death. Totally.
Sniff. sniiiiiiiiiiiffsniffsniffsniff. Sniiiiiiiiiiiif. Aha! There.
Sure, there’s some monster in the shadows of the overpass near chinatown, but that doesn’t sway her. In fact, she might not even REALLY notice, because right there, in that tossed out bag of garbage, is half a McChicken that someone tossed out and it’s calling her name. She dives into the pile of garbage, pushing it aside until she finds the right bag, than plops down right there (she’ll wonder about the grease stain on her ass later) and tears into the bag – pulling out the sandwich. the lettuce is wilted, the Mayo looks an unhealthy shade of yellow – so she plucks off the first and scrapes off the second than settles the bun back on the half a sandwich and…
Chows down -[….ew….]- humming in delight to also find some stale fries in the bottom of the bag, too.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The underpass.
It calls home to more than one vagrant every now and then. One such seems to have made a slightly permanent resident on the border between Chinatown and Bronzeville. There’s a string of old boxes ductaped and glued together with string and bubblegum sitting up under the darkest part of the underpass. Piles of refuge and garbage collect around the beaten up refrigerator boxes. A small figure lounges back in the black and dirty ring of a tire, skinny legs bouncing up and down, like she were sitting in a donut flotation device floating down a river.
Her head pops up, tilting to the side as she watches Marni in the distance, chuckling under her breath. In one hand, Mama had one of those trashy romance novels, all water-and-grease-stained from her fingers licking through the thin pages.
[Karl holds the Line] (Izzat a bag-lady?)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)
[Karl holds the Line] The Rotagar looks over about the same time as Marni dives head first into the garbage. Brow creases a little as she steals the fenrirs attention, and when she comes back out with the old meal, and near enough consumes it, bag and all, he blinks. (Gross!)
A shake of his head as he watches the woman. It takes him only a moment to recognize the beast of rage inside her. His experience with bone gnawers are not really extensive, and he still has to rely on what others of his tribe has deemed fit to teach him. It seems to fit right in with the image of Marni, greedily inhaling that rancid old chicken and soggy fries.
The Rotagar blinks again, not even noticing that he is openly staring at Marni, curiosity and a little disgust painting his features.
[Marni] It’s HOT today, and Marni’s peeled down for the most part, because the humidity is about to do her in [mmmmmmsmells like rain….]. A tank top, and old jeans cut off into shorts show off the fact that she’s a deliciously curvy little thing, in all the right places.
If she notes she’s being watched – she doesn’t let on, at least not until the sandwich is gone and she’s digging for the fries. She rolls her shoulders under the straps of her pack, and grins over in Mama’s direction, lifting the bag to ask if she wants some fries before they’re all gone, while not even pausing the trip they’re taking from bag to mouth….
…it’s then that she turns to Karl, and snorts. “Take a fuckin’ picture, it’ll last longer.” a beat, and then… “want some?” all wide-eyed innocent…
[Mama Ankle-Biter] “Ya gawk any longer, Q-ball, Marni’s gonna fill ya mouth full of sweet honey and it’ll attract a nice little banquet of flies for ya to swallow.”
This comes from the cackling voice of the little frizzy haired blond that hums quietly under her breath, the book held open between the fingers of her left hand, used as a partial fan and entertainment as Marni rummages for food.
[Karl holds the Line] The Fenrir is taken by surprise. He had not noticed Mama, not with Marni taking all of his attention, but there is instant recognition of the fosterns voice. It had threatened him before after all. As for Marni and her offer of food, he just raises both hands defensively, offering a little smile.
“Ahh No thank you. I just ate… Thanks anyway.”
Well, ‘just’ is relative. IT was perhaps an hour or two ago, but close enough that he was indeed not hungry. Even if he was, those fries does not look very tempting.
“Mama Ankle-Biter-rhya… apologize, I did not see you there.”
Head turning to look at Mama, not quite meeting the ranking Garou’s eyes. He pushes from the wall, straightening up.
[Marni] Karl turns down the fries, and she snickers, as she shoves the rest of the fries in her mouth. Indeed, Karl could ask his jarl about the last time she used Sweet Honey on a Fenrir. Course, the Jarl probably has (conveniently) forgotten, being as he ran from the resulting rat horde, screaming like a girl. One of her better days, really.
Initial hunger satiated, she stands and brushes off her ass, and makes her way over to join Mama, hunkering down by the tire, and peeling her pack off. “Got some fresher stuff in here for you, Mama.” She sets the pack down next to her tribemate, elder and soon to be Alpha.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] “That’s alright, Norseman, we ain’t paying no attention to ya and yars anyhow, by staying up under this here underpass.” Not that she cared anyway. The city was the Gnawer’s playground, and Mama Ankle-Biter wasn’t about to let a pack full of cliaths that followed Fenris chase her off the border between Chinatown and Bronzeville.
She wiggles her bare toes, the pads of her feet black from walking around in the dirt and debris without a care. She sits higher up in the tire, pushing with the press of her elbows against the rubber ring. She winks at Marni as the younger comes to join her and sits down. “Thank ya, baby.” she croons out in the slow, lazy drawl that would have placed the small Gnawer somewhere east of Chicago and in the center of the Appalachians, but Mama hailed from much further places than that…
She had that friendly appeal with all-too easy smiles, like a large matronly Southern black woman channeled through the tiny body of a really white skinny girl. “What’cha doing way up yonder, Norseman, come to chase Mama off of Joe’s turf?”
[Karl holds the Line] The Rotagar blinks, looking between Mama and Marni, then shakes his head.
“Absolutely not. In truth, I am just here as a favor to War-Handed.”
Karl has not given him the title of Jarl since the Fenrir Ting.
“He was worried about some black Furies trying to muscle in on Chinatown, thinking they might have eyes on Bronzeville.”
Then he breaks into a smile, beaming it at the two gnawers.
“I am pretty sure that War-Handed would not be stupid enough to try and chase you from anywhere Mama Ankle-Biter-rhya…”
He looks to Marni then, nodding to her.
“Where are my manners… I remember you from the last moot, but we never got introduced. I am Karl, Holds the Line, No moon and as you probably guessed, A Fenrir.”
If the gnawers are perceptive, they would catch the slight dialect and use of the language. not born to English this one. Mama’s name of Norseman ringing true.
[Marni] She snorts. “Joe an’ his crew ain’t big nuff to hold all of Bronzeville nohow. Gettin a bit big for his britches, again, ain’t he? Raciest asshole needs to get over hisself. Them Furies is good folks.”
No love lost for the current Jarl, here – but she stops before she says he is indeed that stupid. Instead, she digs in her backpack, to slide the promised treat over next to Mama, before standing again, a partially melted chocolate bar in her hand. She opens one end and licks the gooey treat from the paper as Karl continues, and a brow arches, sliding up behind those curls.
Manners.
He talks Manners to a Gnawer.
Heh.
So she bows, dramatically, doffing an imaginary top hat into a sweep at her waist… “Marni Geller, called Sticky Fingers an’ ya don’t wanna know why, Cliath BeeGee Raggie extraordinaire.” She taps that imaginary hat back on top her head, and digs into the chocolate again.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Mama accepts the partially melted candy bar with a squeal of delight. The beaten up romance novel tossed over her shoulder to land in a heap on the concrete, pages smashed and wrinkled with the odd way it lands open-faced. She tears into one end of it, chomping on half of the chocolate bar as her cheeks bulge out. Caramel and chocolate smeared across one corner of her mouth, her tongue darts out to try and lick at it repeatedly, like she were trying to wash her tongue over a muzzle in homid.
“What can we do for ya, Holds the line?”
[Karl holds the Line] Some Fenrir cannot stand the BeeGee’s. Some outright shun them or worse. Karl has been told a great many things about what is often called the lowest of tribes. And the Rotagar does what any good no moon does. He questions and does not accept what others say simply because they say it.
When Marni performs for him, he actually laughs a little, offering her a wide grin, then moves from his spot, heading towards the two at Mama’s place. However before he gets to close, he crouches down, keeping a respectable distance from both of them.
“Well, I was a little curious about what we discussed earlier, about the earth spirits. Other than that, I do not need much. I just don’t have much else to do with my time then spend it. I will leave you to your meal if you do not wish to be disturbed.”
This Fenrir is markedly different from the others of his tribe In this city. There is not an ounce of hostility in him towards the Gnawers, only curiosity, and if they read his body language right, he is trying to be friendly and respectful, in his own way.
[Marni] She arches a brow slightly, watching him, but she doesn’t have much to add, and she’s got chocolate on her fingers, and she grins as Mama enjoys her treat too, and marni simply settles down, sitting comfortably on some bit of concrete or another. Lesser tribe they may be considered, but they are the survivors, the scavengers, the ones that will last the test of time better than any other through nothing other than sheer tenacity and determination.
And the ability to eat old food without getting ill, of course.
He’s being respectful and friendly – which is suspicious for a Fenrir, but she reserves judgment, and watches instead.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] “Ya ain’t got much to do?”
The little Gnawer questions the Questioner now. She tilts her head to the side, leaning forward until her knobby knees pushed into the slight curve of her small chest. She snorts softly, shaking her head, “Baby, there’s always something to do in this city. Can’t see how a big ol’ Fenrir like ya ain’t got nothing to do.”
She looks over at Marni, gauging her response to Karl, an eyebrow tilting up curiously, “Where’s ya pack, Karl?”
[Karl holds the Line] The Rotagar briefly wonders if he was doing the right thing when Mama started questioning him. But to late to make an escape now. Instead, he rolls his shoulders some in a deep shrug before answering.
“I do not have one yet. Even the warders in the caern were looking at me in a funny way when I volunteered for a third patrol today, so I decided to take a walk here. As you say, War-Handed cant hold Bronzeville on his own at the time. Figured I might try and help him out.”
He looks to the two, still smiling.
“I think even my mate is growing tired of watching me pace about in her apartment. On the plus side, I am starting to get familiar on the street’s. I have not lost my ways in ohh… Hours!”
He grins a little. Unfortunately, it is not a lie. The city is still something of a maze to the norseman, but he is getting better at it every day.
[Marni] She feels Mama’s questioning gaze, and glances her way, watching that eyebrow tilt. Her shoulder lifts in a slight shrug, just a touch, and her chin lifts slightly too. Unspoken, these cues, that she gives Mama.
He’s different – not like Joe n’them.
He’s respectful to Mama, which is a plus.
He’s curious, and questions.
There aren’t any warning bells going off in Marni’s head, not yet.
She does arch a brow slightly when he mentions his mate. Something flickers in her eyes, and she drops her gaze, and wraps the rest of her chocolate and tucks it away for later – and she says nothing.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] “Well, we can’t really halp ya with that mate problem. Kin’ll eventually toss ya out when ya start to become a bother in their daily lives, wouldn’t take it a bad way or nothing, just means she needs as much breathing room as ya do at times.”
Again, her eyes flick over to Marni, the arcs of her eyebrows furrowing together as she leans to the side, brushing her shoulder against the other Gnawer’s in a comforting touch. This Fenrir was not like the ones she has encountered in the past. Her experiences with them were few and far between, but she considered them just as fanatical, if not crazier than most of her own tribe.
“Why ain’tcha gone join up with’em other vikings, seems like they’re all trying to absorb as many as they can into one giant unit.”
[Marni] Mama nudges her, and Marni looks up to meet her gaze for a moment, her smile brief [sad] and she returns the nudge, and settles down to sit, and curl up next to Mama’s side. She’s a cuddly one, Marni, and soon her head finds rest atop arms crossed atop the tire that Mama reclines on, curls spilling over her shoulders, as she listens and watches.
“Only of their own, of course. Joe ain’t think anyone other than Fenrir is any good. Raciest prick.” Ain’t nothing she hasn’t said to his face of course. Marni’s daring, most days.
[Karl holds the Line] ”I think the Aesir’s call will do fine without me. Don’t get me wrong, I have no enmity towards them. I just think another pack would be a better fit. Overspecialize, and breed in weakness.”
He gives another shrug of his shoulders, offering the two a smile.
“Guess my moon keeps me curious enough to dare stepping outside the comfort of familiarty. I will learn more, and serve better with others.”
One thing can be said about the Rotagar. For some reason, he seems to be brutally honest with his opinions. It could probably cause him no end of trouble, and in the end, serve him quite well, if he lived that long.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] “Sadly,” the little Gnawer interjects, “The lack of presence in Mama’s tribe, keeps her from pulling on Rat’s own resources to fit us together in a neat little family like she wants. We’s a pack of three, Marni here, me and the pup.”
One of her arms lifts up to wrap around Marni’s shoulders, hugging the girl to her as she cuddles up next to the lupus-born, who seems all too happy to share in the warmth and sweat of hot afternoon as they basked in the shade. She scrutinizes the Fenrir No Moon in quiet contemplation.
“How many offers have ya had?”
[Marni] (sorry – I’m on the phone. heh. don’t wait for me.. :) )
to Karl holds the Line, Mama Ankle-Biter
[Karl holds the Line] ”The pup?”
Karl glances around to see if there is another gnawer somewhere he has not spotted, then shrugs and looks back to the two. If there is one hiding somewhere, it will show eventually, or not.
“No offer’s yet. War-Handed seems to want me.”
A shrug of his shoulders.
“And Wyrmbreaker-rhya and Buried Hatchet-rhya has both offered to let me run with their packs to see ‘if it is a good fit’. The Unbroken’s totem is an honorable one, but I do not think I could run with them. I have reason to distrust members of that pack.”
The way he says it makes it unclear if it is because of the Shadow Lords, or someone specific.
“The Sentinels… I know very little about. Buried Hatchet-rhya and Laughs in the Face of Death are the only two I’ve met.”
[Marni] Just the three of them. It still takes Marni by surprise, even though she knows, and has known (and has suffered) and well. Mama and Marni and Baby make three. She’s content to cuddle, the curvy little gnawer, and watch Karl as he speaks. His honesty is refreshing – especially as it seems to come without cutting them down, and with respect.
He asks about the pup, and she smirks, and pats her belly. “Knocked up.”
And then he mentions Lukas, and lips curl into a snarl of distaste and a low growl sounds at the back of her throat – and fortunately he speaks of distrusting members of that pack, and she arches a brow. “Why don’t you trust them.” It’s important to her.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] “Hatchet-rhya, I ain’t met formally, except for the rumors that he was trialed as a charach for sleeping with another Garou, and had the post of Master of Challenge stripped from him… Joey’s alright if’n a little trigger-happy with jumping into attack before thinking.”
Mama watches Karl closely, discerned at the mention of Wyrmbreaker trying to court him. Her small chest puffs out, air filling her lungs to full capacity until it is expelled out in a loud snort. “Unbroken’s too big for their damn britches. Too many wolves makes a pack too large, ya can lose track, disassociation even.” Marni’s questioning of the Fenrir quiets the Fenrir, she blinks slowly, settling back into the tire as she combs a hand through Marni’s curls in a motherly way to comfort the Ragabash.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] (quiets Mama not Fenrir)
[Karl holds the Line] Marni has not spoken much since Mama started questioning the Rotagar. His gaze goes to her as she pats her belly, and a smile crosses his lips as understanding dawns. Then her tone changes and he frowns a little. A breath. A beat before he answers the other ragabash.
“One of their members tried to force his attentions on my mate. I also do not agree with their view of kinfolk or their place in the nation. They seem to think a good kinfolk is a quiet and subdued one.”
He shakes his head, smirking. Not aimed towards the two he is currently addressing however, that much is clear.
“I do not hold with that belief myself. I would not submit to something like that either, so I will most likely never run with the Unbroken.”
[Marni] Her gaze narrows. “Which member.”
This too, is important – though her shoulders do ease slightly as he disagrees with their stand on Kinfolk, and such.
[Karl holds the Line] Karl look at Marni, considering something for quite a few seconds before replying to her question.
“Theron locke… A crescent moon. I made sure it will not happen again, as far as he can be trusted to remember my warning.”
The jury is still out on that.
“I told him that I would claim my right of Blood-Eagle should he try it again.”
The Rotagar gives no further explanantion of what exactly the right of Blood-Eagle entails. But going by the slight light in the Fenrir’s eyes, it is most likely not a pleasant thing.
“Laughs in the Face of Death does have a tendancy to act like an ahroun, but then again, I have been guilty of the same thing when my moon rises.”
The rage in the No moon easily rivals most ahrouns.
“I did not know about Buried hatchet-rhya….”
A touch of concern in his voice, thoughtful expression on his face. his gaze returns to Marni, this time it is his turn to ask questions.
“What is your trouble with the Unbroken?”
It was clear the gnawer had something personal against them.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Mama retains her silence now as the conversation is dominated by the pair of No Moons. She is observant if anything of Karl and his answers.
[Marni] She nods, slightly, as if she had expected that answer, and relaxes against Mama again. Karl asks her problem with the unbroken though, and her shoulders stiffen once more, that low growl in her throat, and her irritation clear as day.
“My baby-daddy is shadowlord kin. Lukas threatened to gut me and take what was his, and forbids me to contact the kinfolk. Course, ain’t gonna fuckin stop me, soon as I can sneak in, but whatever. Lukas ain’t doin his own duty with his mate – an’ so he wants my kid for his tribe too, intentions not so carefully hidden in insults that I ain’t able to care for the kid because I’m a Ganwer. I ain’t stole nuthin from him and his tribe – the kin in question ain’t got a drop of purity in him. THEN the fucker called me dishonorable – and other things, though soon as I found out I went to him first, to claim the kin as my mate. I was refused. Far as I’m concerned, Lukas ain’t worth the shitpile he’s built his throne on.”
Yeah. She has problems with the Unbroken. “Theron -Lukas’s tribemate AND packmate – ain’t no better – that fucker can’t keep his pecker in his pants no matter who the kin is, yet they call ME a dishonorable thief?” snorts. “AND his other packmate – a fuckin Fianna, no less – had her grabby claws all up in my babydaddy, and bet anything she was tryin to get knocked up to force her claim. Yet cuz I’m not Unbroken, and Gnawer, I’m shit.”
She snorts, irritated. It’s not that she minds being called a thief, really. It’s the other charge that gets her goat.
[Karl holds the Line] The Rotagar listens, and watches closely. When she finishes, he is quiet for quite some time.
“Seems my instincst about the Unbroken are not off then. I am no Forseti… Half moon”
Clarified. He is trying to unlearn his habit of naming the auspices by their Fenrir names.
“Custom, if not law would make your claim not one easily dismissed. Then again… Chicago is a very different place then the septs where I grew up and was thaught.”
He does not say exactly what his teachings say about the situation. It matters little here.
“For what it is worth, I believe that if your… baby-daddy is willing to be with you and the child, then you should be given claim of him. Anything else will lead to nothing but bloodshed in the end.”
Brutally honest at least.
[Marni] She shrugs. “I ain’t ever intended to tie Ray down, or get knocked up. I attempted to make it right, an was shunned. No doubt he’s spread a buncha stupid lies to Ray bout it all too. Soon as I can make it right with him, I will – but Lukas can sit an’ spin. an the MOMENT he or one a his does somethin’ dishonorable, you can BET I’ll be all OVER his ass…”
Hell hath no fury, after all…
[Mama Ankle-Biter] “Mama was thinking of challenging Wyrmbreaker for the right of the pup’s daddy, seeing if he’ll try the same bullshit with me with us being of rank. We ain’t got no kin in this city, we’s scraping by on our own and if that means Mama has to challenge for kin that ain’t being paired off to their own tribe… Shadow Lords got plenty to spare.”
[Karl holds the Line] The Rotagar listens again, looking between the two. Suddenly, he feels a little sorry for the Shadow Lords, and Lukas. He has no idea what is coming his way, secure in his strength as alpha, Ahroun and auspice elder. Karl has a feeling Lukas will find out that not all Garou show throat as soon as the Shadow Lords whistle.
It is a warming thought after all.
“Lies come back to bite you hard, more often than not. Cant think of a better teacher of that then a no moon.”
The Rotagar suddenly shifts from his crouch, and sits down on the hard concrete, taking a little more relaxed stance, if a submissive one still. He is a ‘guest’ in mama’s territory, in the packs territory.
[Marni] She smirks, amused, a bit, before she relaxes, shifting her position slightly, to cross her legs under her and grab her bag so she can dig around inside it again, finally coming up with a rumpled back of Doritos – bought half full, though the chips are reduced to crumbs instead of full sized they were before being subjected to Marni’s backpack.
She offers some to Mama, and then to Karl, before taking some herself. It’s a sign of approval, really, one that Mama would understand, though karl would likely miss it.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Mama shakes her head at the offer of the Doritos. She pulls her legs up beneath her, leaning in to grab at the tire’s edge and hauls herself up to her feet. She runs her hands up through the frizzy blond curls that bounce along her shoulders and stick out at all ends.
“Mama can’t really offer much to ya, Norseman, in the way of stuff. But seeing as Marni and me lost our respective packs to deaths in recent months, we’re looking to shag up together and run. Mainly so Mama can take care of the little sticky-fingered spitfire and the pup, but cuz she’s mah girl.”
She reaches out to tousle Marni’s curls into her eyes affectionately, “Be looking for prospects, might be small pack, ain’t interested in nothing big. And ain’t courting either. Ya want to run with us, welcome to it, ya don’t Mama ain’t gonna have hurt feelings.”
[Karl holds the Line] As he is offered the doritos, there is no hesitation. Not that he is really wanting them, but the gesture is clear enough in its intent, and he grabs some of the crushed snacks, chewing on them thoughtfully as he listens to Mama’s offer.
He does not answer right away, taking his time to chew and swallow before he speaks again, the whole time looking at the two gnawers, considering. A theurge and a No moon of the bone gnawers. His impressions of Mama has not changed. She is still high in his regards, and Marni has done nothing but raise his opinion of the gnawer tribe. But he is a No moon, and he has a drive within, so he questions.
“I think I could do a lot worse for a pack… But I have to ask. Which totem do you follow?”
[Marni] She wrinkles her nose as Mama ruffles her curls again, but it’s clear the affection goes both ways. It’s good to be with family again, and a Family that would be Pack is even better. The mention of Spitfire brings sadness across her gaze, but she pushes it firmly away again. She has mourned long and proper, and still mourns deeply, but she cannot let it stop her from being with Mama and starting new. Indira wouldn’t like that. And there’s the kid to think of too.
Karl asks what Tribe, and Marni let’s Mama answer – Spirit talkin and wranglin is the Fostern’s job, after all.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The little Gnawer bends down in front of the tire. She digs her fingers under the rubber edge and hefts it up to sit upright. She shows it off to Karl, passing her hand in an elegant wave over it like she were a showing off a fancy car. “Thinking of following the Great Black Donut – it posses a voracious appetite and consumes its victims in its gaping maw of doom. It don’t like being left alone, demands that we keep it with us always and to warm it with our bottoms, when we ain’t doing nothing else…”
She takes in a deep breath, her lips cracks into a full impersonation of her birth moon. “There’s Shadow Lord Ring Toss on Thursdays, followed by ice cream at Brewster’s after Tequila Night Wednesdays.”
[Karl holds the Line] He can’t really help himself. As Mama introduces the great black Donut totem, he laughs, shaking his head a little. At least packing with them would not be a boring thing.
“It sounds like a fine and respectable totem to follow… I am especially liking the Thursday and Wednesday activities… But…”
He draws a breath, becoming a little more serious.
“You should know that I am a No moon, but I am also a warrior. I would seek a totem of war to serve under and with. With the sept at war with the hills hive especially. Would this be a problem?”
His gaze going from Mama to Marni and then back again.
[Marni] She blinks, and then she can’t help it, she dissolves into a case of the giggles at Mama’s display. By the time she gets to SL Ring Toss, she falls over and is laughing like she hasn’t done even once since Indira’s death, and the release it brings is amazing, encompassing, and real… and very much something she needed.
“Oh Mama. ShadowLord Ring Toss. Oh man.”
Her gaffaws subside into slightly more contained giggles, but the smile – ah, there’s our Marni. Her smile is warm, amused, and much more representative of what she usually is – a no moon of good humor, and a ready grin. She’s coming back, slow but sure.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] They both laugh, catching the joke that the little Gnawer plays. She just grins sheepishly as Marni bursts into a fit of laughter that has Mama smiling with satisfaction. She drops the tire back down on the ground, skirting around it and flops back down onto it. It is not beyond her to be serious. Her tone changes just a little, becoming thoughtful again as she listens to Karl.
“At one time, if it was just Marnie and me, considered taking on the Rat-God as our totem, but if’n ya coming into the picture. Ain’t opposed to looking at other avenues, willing to take suggestions. Feeling a bit itchy for war, though, Mama ain’t a warlike Garou.”
[Karl holds the Line] The Rotagar nods, considering Mama’s words. He mulls it over, licking his fingers from the remains of the Doritaa dust covering them. Then, looking down at his fingers, then at the tire, then back to Marni and Mama.
“There is a totem, known for its speed and agility. It is a totem of war, but one that surprises its enemies, thinking it to be too small, too weak. Below notice. I have considered it before, because it speaks to me in the same tone that my own moon does. It is also stronger, more at home in the Umbra.”
Then he lets a small grin suffer.
“It comes with a price however… It is known for its voracious appetite that would match even the famed Great black donut for its insatiability.”
Then he looks to Marni, with a wink.
“Not sure how it would stand up to the cravings of a pregnant Bone Gnawer… It is only a totem after all.”
[Mama Ankle-Biter] She tips her head to the side, scratching at an itch on the left side of her scalp with dirty fingers. It irritates the little Gnawer to no end as she spends a few minutes scratching, and then finally relaxes. She listens to what Karl says, crinkling up her nose as she watched him.
“Hummingbird spirits.”
[Marni] She groans, dramatically. “I’ma get SO FAT…”
But other than that, she listens, and tips her head slightly. Hummingbird, hm?
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Her eyes roll upward at the melodramatic Gnawer, “So what, we’ll just hitch ya up to a motorized wheel-chair and awaken it so ya can fight in it.”
She snorts, the corners of her lips still tilted up in a smile as she chuckles at Marni, “It ain’t that bad, just nine months.”
[Marni] She sticks her tongue out at Mama – but not before she seriously contemplates the possibilities of one of them scooters awakened for fighting, the Raggie gleam shining bright in her eyes… but then she chuckles…
…and THEN starts counting. 9 months. A brow arches… “February. Man, I’ll be fat AND cold.” she wrinkles her nose and then tips her head, chuckling.
“Any chance your Mate’s a midwife?” Hopeful, there…
[Karl holds the Line] Karl nods to Mama, looking to the fostern.
“The sept needs more war packs from what I have seen, and if it will be the three… four of us, No moons and theurge, it would also give us an important role to play. Scouting and warfare in the Umbra, which would fit the duties given to us by Gaia, and one the sept could use in the war.”
There is a glimmer in the Rotagar. The Fenrir No moons where always renowned for their tactical skills and ability to fight as well as Question and scout. Karl seems to have a sense of humor somewhere in there as well, but clearly more Waning or true no moon then waxing.
“That would be my suggestion for a totem to seek, and it is a war totem, but not one as obvious as say Fenrir or Wolverine.”
A block from here, the 73 Chevy Nova is parked. Karl glances towards the car, barely visible, then back to the gnawers.
“Actually, she is a healer, and quite a skilled one. Her name is Moira, a Fenrir kin.”
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Mama falls quiet again, her thoughts turning elsewhere. A twinkle sparks in the bright blue eyes of hers – scheming. She steeples her fingers, pressing the tips together. No comment comes from her in regards to seeking out a midwife, though, an accomplished healer Ankle-Biter was. She was also lupus-born, and only knew about lupus ways of mating and birthing, which required a four-legged form. It would be wiser to find a human midwife, or someone that knew their ways.
“Marni and me can give it a discuss over, ain’t sure if’n who we’ll pick up as a fourth if’n we do. Three’s a good number, strong number, mystical one.”
[Marni] She giggles at Mama.. “I think he meant the pup…”
But she nods, slightly, agreeing that they’ll give it a good talking over – even as she works on finishing up that bag of doritos.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] “Oh…” She sticks her tongue at Marni, “Knew that.”
[Karl holds the Line] He gives Marni a grin, nodding to her confirmation of the fourth member.
“Can’t ask for more than that. “
Slowly, Karl gets to his feet. Stretching a bit, he nods to the gnawers.
“I need to get back to my mate before she goes to bed, or I will be sleeping on the couch. Again.”
Said with a grin.
“I stay with her in Lake view, but if you need to find me, I always spend at least a few hours helping out the warders in the Caern each day. It was good meeting you Sticky fingers-yuf, and always a pleasure mama Ankle-Biter-rhya.”
He turns, taking a few steps before looking voer his shoulder at Marni with a smile.
“Thanks for the snacks. Next time, food is on me.”
And with that, he makes for his car.
[Marni] Her eyes glint with a wicked shine as he offers to pay for dinner next time. Poor Fenrir hasn’t a clue what he just offered, he don’t, but he’ll soon learn – especially if they do end up as pack.
She nods, slightly, and lifts fingers covered in dorito dust to wave as he turns to go again. “Night, Karl.”
[Mama Ankle-Biter] Mama Ankle-Biter just laughs her ass off. She claps her hands on her belly, nearly rolling out of the center of the tire. She eventually calms down, and crawls out of it in search for her discarded book. She falls back down into the tire to resume her reading, alternating the reading for fanning Marni with the book to cool the fat Gnawer off!