[Faith Brooks] She smiles, nodding. “I do, and you seem to have an idea of the same.”
She stuffs the skittles in her pocket. Be polite, and he won’t use you for a piece of popcorn. Really he won’t. He just ate anyways, no room in the tummy. Right? Sure. Do they always have to be so big? Seriously? She hops down off the table and tilts her head back to look up at him, quite dwarfed by the big man. Course an average sized person would dwarf her tiny frame. “Well sir, I didn’t want to be rude.You were having a nice lunch with your lady friend. That and well, with what I sense about you, I wasn’t sure if you’d take that as a challenge to your food. I don’t think that would be wise.” Looks down at herself, then back up to him and chuckles.
[Ruarc o’Conaill] Well, she makes him laugh. A deep roaring thing, his head thrown back. It is brief, but quite genuine. It makes more then one person walking past jump or yelp and hurry on, just because of what he is, that terror they do not understand that he sparks deep within them. When he looks back to her, it is with a wider smile. Ruarc is far from a pretty boy. That smile seems to almost split his face in two. Then again, he was not made to be eye-candy.
“I like ye lass. Ye got spirit. Names Ruarc.”
He holds out his hand for the woman, but does not move closer, instead leaving it up to her to approach him. It seems he wont give more of an introduction here in the open.
[Danicka Musil] At some point in the last ten years, yoga got really intimidating. For a non-competitive non-sport focused on making one’s flesh a vessel for the divine yadda yadda yadda, there are hundreds of people across the country who are terrified to try it. Maybe it’s the now super-fashionable mats and mat slings and bricks and bottles and how anyone who is anyone wears lululemon. Maybe it’s the fact that the majority of people in the studios are women with rings on their fingers that cost a year of your rent who have nothing better to do with their time than master bakasana.
The woman strolling down the path in the direction of the two Fianna and the something-else could easily be one of them. Her gear is absolutely the newest lululemon athletica, in shades of pink and gray. (Nevermind that it’s the newest because the last set she had was ruined, and that’s the War’s fault.) There’s a sling across her back carrying a charcoal and purple mat rolled up neatly in its confines. Her hair is up in a ponytail, thick and blonde of the sort that is often compared to gold more than wheat or honey. Whatever color her eyes are, they’re hidden behind sunglasses that either cost upwards of three hundred dollars or at least look like it. We won’t get into her shoes.
Frankly, all that’s missing from the previously described Stay-at-Home Yoga Guru is an irritated phone call going on with the nanny and the Rock of Gibraltar on her left hand. She looks to be in her late twenties, maybe about thirty by now — tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth make her at least seem older than a recent graduate or grad student. She’s slender enough to still be acceptable to Manhattan or London’s standards, tanning gradually with summer, and sipping a smoothie through a straw.
She slows as she approaches the threesome, not because she knows either of the other two blondes, but because her head turns slightly towards Ruarc. He laughs loudly, which startles a few birds out of the trees, and she slips the bright orange straw from her lips, waiting for Faith to answer before she interrupts.
[Faith Brooks] She grins at him. “Well as long as we’re square and I don’t get to be a side dish for looking at anyone funny, life’s great and needs a good laugh.”
She nods, stepping forward and setting her little hand in his. “Nice to meet you. I’m Faith.” Her eyes go to the other woman just approaching, and she looks back to Ruarc.
[Ruarc o’Conaill] There is no telling if the large man had caught Danicka approaching or not, but as Faith shakes his hand and looks over to Danicka, he follows her gaze to the other kin. He offers her the same easy smile. He recognizes the woman from the Brotherhood, but they never got introduced. His gaze returns to Faith and he lets her hand go with a nod.
“’S a pleasure Faith.”
Then he half turns towards Danicka, offering her a small wave.
“’Ello lass. We neve’ got th’ chance tae properly get introduced afore. Names Ruarc.”
That large hand offered to Danicka as well. He does not seem to be put off by her appearance. She screams wealth where he could be found on any street corner of the city.
[Danicka Musil] “I thought you looked familiar,” Danicka says to Ruarc, and offers him the hand that has not been wrapped around a cold smoothie cup. If she’s put off by touching a filthy, overlarge man who is nearly a stranger it doesn’t show, but then… they can’t see her eyes. She smiles demurely. “Around the Brotherhood?”
[Marni] Speaking of being found on a corner of the city…
Nearby Ruarc and Faith and the approaching Danicka, there is a grunt, and a mutter, and an under the breath (yet vaguely colorful) curse. Should they look, in that direction, there’s a set of denim clad legs sticking out of a trashcan as a curvy torso stretches for something inside. “Come on you motherfuckinpieceofslimygoodnesscomeON…”
Then, a sound of triumph, and the feet find the ground again, and the torso bends upright, with a grunt. She runs her hands over her belly – won’t be able to wriggle like that much longer, that’s for sure – but what’s in her hand soon gets her full attention. It’s.. well. It once was a full sandwich. It’s now 3/4 of one, and looks a little green about the edges. She peels off wilted lettuce, examines the meat, cheese and bread, peels off the edge of the bread, tosses that back into the can and takes a large bite out of what’s left with a content little noise.
She’s short, yet curvy in ALL the right places – more so than usual in some. Curly hair falls into her eyes, and though she was just waist deep in a trash can, she’s clearly seen a shower recently. Tattered jeans, and a tank top, bare feet and flipflops. Gnawer extraordinaire…
[Ruarc o’Conaill] ”Aye lass, t’ink it was.”
He shakes her hand then lets it go, glancing to Faith and then back to Danicka.
“I moved in the’e. ‘S nae a bad sorta place fer th’ likes o’ me.”
The tall Irish takes his time as he looks Danicka over, and he is about to say something when a noise from over to the side draws his attention. He glances over at the woman stuck head first into the trashcan, brows raised a little. He watches her escapades and when she brushes of the half eaten food, he chuckles a bit and shakes his head some. He might not be swimming in cash, but he hasn’t found himself hip deep in a dumpster looking for food. Yet.
“The’e be one hungry lass…”
Amused.
[Danicka Musil] From all appearances, Danicka seems the oblivious sort. Her breeding tells Ruarc exactly what she is — told him even before she got there, even as she was walking in that direction — and what she is happens to be the daughter of a bloodline from another tribe. The sight of her wouldn’t intimate her lineage to him, or to anyone: no crow-colored hair here, no proud features. Her expression is soft, even if there’s a slight pointiness to her jawline. And instead of craggy black mountains and torrential storms lit up by lightning, the scent of her brings to mind
quieter things. Meadowlands in summer, and vineyards heavy with fruit. Ancestral memory calls up the sense of water flowing nearby and cubs on two legs and four thudding bare footsteps together through grass tall enough to hide in. The sun is up and if there’s a storm coming it’s on the horizon, lingering at the mountains that guard the place and look over it. Her pulse feels like a hearthfire, a full belly, the knowledge of mate and cubs curled nearby in safe sleep.
Safe, because of the things outside in the dark, vicious and powerful and kin to the dark, wet earth as well as the thunderous sky.
All of which is to say that instinct tells Ruarc — and Faith, and Marni, and all the Garou who meet Danicka — that her heritage is an old one, though not one peppered with the greatest of heroes. They know on sight and smell that she and her kin are known for their fertility and closeness to Gaia. Were they Lords themselves or Galliards interested in the tales of the Lords, they might know the names and deeds of some of her relatives, and her most recent ancestors.
She takes her hand back from Ruarc’s when he releases it, her own handshake not quite firm nor forceful. Just… there. “Dani&+269;ka Musil,” she says, offering her own introduction in return. Her eyes turn the way his go, over to Marni. Who she can’t ever remember meeting before. “Indeed.”
[Marni] one hungry lass – they have NO idea…
She’s practically inhaling the sandwich, which is likely good for those watching, as who wants to see someone scrounge like a common streetrat? Perhaps they’d be surprised to note that the last time she found something at the bottom of a trashcan here in front of other of her kind – Danicka’s mate shared her meal. Without making a face, even.
But there’s no one she’s sharing with tonight. She’s fuckin’ starvin, and she starts to move as she actually does the unthinkable and licks her fingers after she shoves the last bite into her mouth.
only then does she realize she’s being watched, and arches a brow, pausing midlick of some (godIhopeits) mustard from her index finger. She snorts, and shoots them a lopsided grin. “Take a picture, fuckin lasts longer.
[Ruarc o’Conaill] ”So ye say lass, if’n I was sure ye would’nae eat th’ camera, I might’n jus’ do that.”
Said with an amused tone to Marni. Ruarc moves, angling himself to look between Danicka and Marni. Stormy gaze always shifting it seems, not only between those two, but also looking around. It is instinct more then anything. Looking out for signs of trouble and danger.
“Danicka musil…”
He seems to turn the word around in his mouth, severely eviscerating it in the process.
“Ye livin at the Brotherhood are ye?”
Doubt in his tone from her appearance. It doesn’t seem likely that someone with means would stay among those ragtag garou.
[Danicka Musil] She brings the cup upward again and wraps her lips around the tip of the straw, sipping down whatever pomegranate-blueberry-banana-whatever concoction was blended together for her enjoyment on the way back from the yoga studio. She sips while Ruarc turns her name around and around, teases Marni. Her eyebrows dart upward above the rims of her shades when he asks if she lives at the Brotherhood, then descend once more.
“No,” she says easily. “I come by occasionally, is all.” Then, looking at the other woman, who — notably — has not asked either of them for some change. Which is, itself, interesting, considering she’s eating out of garbage cans in the park. And maybe it’s because she doesn’t know what the woman is, she doesn’t look for more than a moment. She just turns back to Ruarc. “I don’t live far from there, though.”
[Marni] She laughs – and that’s probably a good sign. “No nutritional value in cameras, else I might. Now, if ya got a fuckin snickers in ya pocket, I’ll wrestle ya for it…” She rubs her hands on her jeans, then tucks her fingers into her pockets. The move tugs her jeans a little lower on her hips, as the top button is undone. Perhaps for style, perhaps just because…
She looks Danicka over, and tips her head. “Danicka was it?” While they haven’t met, there’s no mistake the recognition that goes through her gaze. And something… something else undefined.
She saunters over, and does not ask for change. Some things are beneath even her – and taking help from a Shadowlord is pretty high on that list.
[Ruarc o’Conaill] ”When ye put i’ like that lass, ye almost makes me wanna go get one fer th’ hell o’ it.”
Replied to Marni even before he looks from Danicka. He glances to the Gnawer, looking her over once as she approaches. There is no surprise in him to feel the touch of rage within the woman. No human had been able to be so causal in his presence. He does not relax very much however, and looks around again, thoughtful.
“Do ye know if’n the’e be a sizable forest near th’ city by chance?”
He looks to them in turn, brows raised. A moment before he exaplins himself.
“I got a wee one comin tae th’ city an’ be needin a secluded place tae teach ‘em th’ ropes afore I can take ‘em intae th’ city proper.”
[Danicka Musil] To Ruarc, a simple answer: “Tekakwitha Woods is about an hour and a half drive from Chicago proper,” she tells him. “There are some other parks and the like, but I believe that’s the largest.”
Her head turns a fraction of an inch back to Marni, and then she tips it slightly to the side. “Have we met?”
[Marni] She grins at Ruarc as he says he’s tempted. “Somehow, that ain’t shock me in the least. But it’d sure be embarrassing when a lil thing like me kicked ya ass and won the chocolate.” A dare? A challenge? You betcha. She hasn’t fought anything in WEEKS.
Danicka answers his question, and Marni just watches. “Nope. Just recognized the name. Ya belong t’Lukas.” A trace of bitterness layers under her voice, twists about her lips, briefly. Clearly she and Lukas aren’t the best of friends.
[Ruarc o’Conaill] Tekakwitha Woods. Ruarc nods as he hears the name. Of course, when the Fianna does lay eyes on it? He will laugh in desperation. The whole park is no more then 10 football fields in size, barely worth the name of a copse of trees to the rural garou. But there is precious little choice.
“Thank ye lass. ‘S appreciated.”
His only reply to Marni is a wide grin. That challenge caught clear as day. However, he does catch the slight change of tone as she mentions Lukas, and she states Danicka belongs to him. It draws a curious expression from the Fianna, but he doesn’t give voice to it yet. Instead, he looks between the two, and then around once more.
[Danicka Musil] Sipping her smoothie, Danicka notes the light in the park dampening as clouds cover more and more of the sky, and lifts her sunglasses up to rest atop her head. Her eyes are normally green, but in this light seem more of a pale, soft blue than anything else. She looks at Ruarc and murmurs, “‘Lass’ is a bit familiar, don’t you think?” she says, and though there’s a rising inflection at the sentence, it does not seem like a question. Though if it’s a correction, it’s a mild one.
Marni’s tone as she says Lukas’s name doesn’t seem to register with the kinswoman. She just nods a little, without verbal affirmation of belonging to him, or being his mate, or whatever else. “I apologize,” she says, making a decision about this woman and offering her free hand. “I didn’t realize you were more than you seem.”
[Marni] She had forgotten Ruarc for the moment, watching Danicka instead, and then when she apologizes, she smirks. “Funny, Lukas ain’t realize that either.” cryptic.
She takes the hand though, and shakes it briefly. “Marni Geller. Known as Sticky Fingers in other circles – low down honorless thief to yer mate.” She says it matter of factly, as if it’s something she’s been called before, and will be called again – though there’s a simmering fury underneath it. Undeniable, and she doesn’t bother to hide it, either.
[Danicka Musil]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Ruarc o’Conaill] If Ruarc had a responce to Danicka’s mild correction, it is swallowed by Marni’s introduction. For a moment, it seems as if the tall Fianna is about to laugh. Some strange amusement passing his features as he stares at the curvy gnawer. Of course, whatever amusement there was, it is quickly dispelled at the simmering of fury and rage that comes from the Gnawer. It was not a funny joke like the Fianna had first thought.
A line of tension runs through his shoulders, and suddenly, his attention is fully on the two women.
[Danicka Musil] [manipulation + subterfuge]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Danicka Musil] [are you shitting me?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7 (Failure at target 7)
[Danicka Musil] [*throws up hands*]
[Danicka Musil] There’s a long moment after that last comment, spoken not with flippancy or dismissal but genuine fury, that Danicka is silent. She does not jerk her hand back from Marni or — even more foolishly — use it to slap the other woman across the face, claw her eyes out, any of that nonsense. She shakes her hand the same way she shook Ruarc’s, with evident weakness in her grasp, with an almost pointed admission in the gesture of her own physical inferiority. She withdraws it in due time, and perhaps in part because the Fiann nearby does not speak again, or perhaps simply because of some considered decision on her part, she does something she does only very rarely.
“Ms. Geller,” she says quietly, using neither her first name — which is, like ‘lass’, apparently too familiar for her tastes — nor her deedname, for whatever reason, but using her surname with a definite and defined tone of respect, “you are all but snarling about your quarrel with my mate, whatever it is, and I cannot help but think you do so either because you simply cannot control yourself or because you know that you can get away with disrespecting him to my face because I am incapable of censuring you for it.”
A beat. She speaks calmly, but the woman is all but vibrating with tension that serves to accentuate just how genuinely frail she is, particularly in comparison with Ruarc and Marni. She is not calm. She is putting a great deal of effort into appearing so, into even keeping her voice steady, but her hand at her side is trembling like a leaf and her other hand is a little too tight around her smoothie cup.
“In either case: speak of him with the utmost respect and courtesy around me, or don’t speak of him to me at all. He is my mate, and you are embarrassing yourself.”
[Marni] She doesn’t snarl – in fact she hasn’t yet, and won’t. She simply did not hide her expression of distaste and bitterness – instead, she chuckles. “I ain’t snarled yet, Dani.” Deliberate, that. “But it can be arranged…” even though she doesn’t doesn’t do anything the weaker woman might expect. Marni got a rise out of her, which seems to be what she intended, as she simply.. laughs.
“I’ll speak about him however I fucking want. If ya don’t like it? Walk away. Until he allows me the courtesy of being at least able to see my baby daddy? I owe him nothing.”
As for embarrassing herself, she laughs again. “Oh honey, really? I ain’t the one what should be embarrassed here. I got nothin to be embarrassed about.” There’s a long slow head to toe and pointed look at the oh so slim belly in the middle there before she meets her eyes again.. “After all, someone’s gotta do their duty and birth the next generation.”
[Ruarc o’Conaill] There are many things Ruarc could do in a situation like this. He could walk away, he could try to interject to stop whatever was brewing. He could grab either of the woman, throw them over his shoulder and walk away. In the end, he remains standing and watching, silent with stormy eyes narrowed slightly. So far, it is not his place to interrupt, but he would not leave either.
If either woman would take it too far, he would step in. He was ready to place himself between them to stop any violence. He is a silent watcher for now.
[Danicka Musil] When Marni is done, including that slow slide of her eyes to Danicka’s flat midsection, the kinswoman turns and inclines her head to Ruarc. “Good afternoon,” she says to him, by way of goodbye, and lowers her sunglasses once more over her eyes. She lifts her cup to sip again from her smoothie as she continues down the path, the same way she had been walking at the beginning.
[Marni] And at that, Marni just laughs again, and shakes her head, watching her go.
“Well, that was fun.” And there’s a sense that it really, really was, for the knocked up raggie. “So, how about that snickers bar….?”
[Danicka Musil] [Thanks for the RP, guys!]
[Ruarc o’Conaill] Ruarc blinks, looking after Danicka as she leaves, then turns his gaze on Marni, brows raised slightly.
“Im’a gonna guess ye got some issue with the lass’s mate eh?”
He shakes his head a little, then lets that easy smile slowly return. Another glance after Danicka and then back to Marni.
“Do I even want tae know?”
He gives a nod of his head as he turns, walking back to the bench where his bag were guarded by a blonde girl, busy with her PDA. The motion clear, a gesture for her to walk with him if she likes.
[Marni] She chuckles and shrugs. “You’d guess right – and probably not, but I’m sure you’ll hear all sortsa shit about me anyway. He ain’t happy that I got knocked up by his kin. Forbidden me to see him, an won’t let Ray have anything to do with me – and thus the kid. Refused my challenge – said he’ll eventually decide I done got enough honor to be a worthy mate. But as ya can see, he can’t even knock up his own woman. My bet – he’s jus’ fuckin’ jealous.”
A shrug, a snort. She don’t really care – least not about how Lukas thinks, or about Danicka’s feelings. “Probably get busted for that lil bit, but it’s worth it. Ain’t like he’s gonna let me see Ray anytime soon anyway. Not unless I give up the kid to that tribe. An’ I’ll die before the likes of that bitch raises my kid.”
She falls into step with him easily enough, her hands tucked into her pockets.
[Ruarc o’Conaill] ”Ye, yer right… I did’nae wanna…”
Said with an amused chuckle, only half serious. He walks to the bench, grabbing his bag and collects the money he had earned playing earlier. When the kin had given him a twenty, she had more then tripled what he had earned in two hours, playing his pipes. Panhandling when you were a full-moon was not the best of ways to go about it, but he had precious little else. He pockets the money with a shrug of his shoulders, then slings the bag over his shoulder. A nod and a smile to the kin and he turns back to Marni, walking again, towards a hot dog stand not far from where they are.
“So ye got a wee one on th’ way huh? I guess congratulöations be in order, despite the situation surrounding it… and ye got a mean sorta tongue on ye… Don’t rightly be knowin if’n I dare wrestle ye.”
Said with a grin and a shake of his head.
[Marni] She just grins up at him. “I ain’t seen the father of my kid in almost two months. figure I got a right to be a little fuckin’ mouthy. Anyone would be. ‘Sides..”
She looks up at him – and it’s undeniable. Marni’s cute, her smile infections, her laugh even more so, and her eyes glitter with mirth and simple… fun. “Ain’t just talkin my tongue is talented at…”
Incorrigible.
“But yeah. 10 weeks along on Thursday. Least according to the clinic – ain’t been to no doctors or anything. Only midwife I heard about round here? Is a mother fuckin’ ShadowLord.”
[Ruarc o’Conaill] He laughs, shaking his head. His voice a deep baritone, pleasant and warm. He is not very cute. In fact, he is hard lines and his smile tends to look a bit to wide. Then again, looking pretty to the eye is not what the full-moon was meant to do, even if he does flirt incorrigibly with almost anyone, or so it seems. That includes curvy little gnawers with a sharp tongue.
“Oh, I bet ye got plenty o’ skill with ye tongue lass… “
He walks easily alongside of her. Danicka had corrected him for using the word lass, but Marni would catch it easily enough. It is not meant as a familiar sort of name. In fact, it sounds more like a respectful sort of title almost. It is part of his language and culture.
“But fer now, how ‘bout a hot dog? My treat… this time.”
[Marni] She just grins up at him, and wandes along his side. She doesn’t mind being called Lass, she’s not uppity and pissy about the little things, herself. The big things are likely to keep her irritated until the end of time – but the little things? no biggy at all.
She outright MOANS at the thought of a fresh hot dog though, her belly audibly grumbling. “Oh that’d be fanTAStic… Right after I got knocked up? I joined a pack. Under hummingbird.” She pauses to see if he catches the significance before adding. “They thought I was always starving BEFORE…. now I’m insatiable.”
A beat.
“And I eat a lot of food, too.” Heh.
[Ruarc o’Conaill] ”Hummingbird? It be one o’ them native totems, donnae it?”
Thoughtful, curious. They draw closer to the cart and Ruarc pulls to a stop some good twenty paces away from it, digging in his pocket and pulling out the wrinkled twenty. He holds it out to Marni with a grin.
“Well, im buyin, yer getting em fer us. If’n I go ove’ the’e he be likely tae run o’ hide instead o’ givin us the goods. Everythin on, extra onions.”
He hefts the bag higher on his shoulder, eyes a light with humor.
“Now ye just be tryin tae get a Rise outta me lass… Im on tae ye.”
Winked at her.
[Marni] She nods, chuckling. “And known for it’s ferocious hunger.. which seems to have translated in me to eating 18million calories a day, doubly so since I got knocked up.”
She grins and takes his money with a nod. “No problem. Bob n me, we’s old friends.” As for getting a rise, she starts toward the vendor, walking backwards, and gives Ruarc a once over. “If yer lucky you’ll be on t’me…. I bet yer one hella cuddler, hm?”
And with a wink she turns and heads toward the vendor, ordering their dogs, topped with everything, extra onions.
[Ruarc o’Conaill] ”Oh dont be th’ fool lass. I can cuddle th’ milk outta a den mother wi’ a sore tooth if’n I be wantin tae… Just gotta earn that sort o’ cuddling. It aint fer th’ weak o’ heart it aint.”
Laughed, he shakes his head as she turns to get their hot dogs, finding a lamppost to lean against. He lets his gaze roam around slowly, looking over the people as they move around the park, then back to Marni, studying the woman, again that easy smile on his lips as he waits for his food and her company.
[Marni] He watches her, and so sees her put the flirty moves on ole Bob, batting lashes and giving a generous cleavage view as she leans over the cart to point at something behind him, laughing as Bob blushes when she catches him peeking, and getting an extra dog for free tossed in for her daring and audacity.
She pays, pockets the change, and gathers the dogs with a wink for Bob, blowing him a kiss over her shoulder before she saunters back toward Ruarc. She hands him his dog, keeping the free one (and a paid for one) for herself. Only then does she answer his claim. “I’ll bet you could – your lot’s always been almost as cuddly as mine.”
[Ruarc o’Conaill] ”Almost? Now that be a challenge if’n I ever heard o’ one lass. The’e aint a one who can be cuddling as good as a Fiann.”
Said with a grin as he accepts the dog. He takes a big bite out of it, chewing happily on it. Almost half the thing in that single bite. He might not be ravenous like Marni, but he is a big guy.
He leans easily against the lamp, stormy gaze on the curvy little woman, easy smiles and curiosity open on his face.
“So tell me ‘bout yer pack lass… Hummingbird be a war totem, aint it?”
[Marni] She just grins at him and his declaration that no one is as good as a Fiann. She doesn’t continue to argue though as it’s sort of a moot point, with all the rage from him, mingling with hers. Last thing she needs is Lukas deciding she’s a Charach too.
“Yup. Mama, Karl an’ I started it, Victor joined a little later. Me n Mama are gnawers – Mama’s the highest ranked, Karl’s a Fenrir an’ Victor one of the first Wendigo I ever met I ain’t wanna punch in the face right off. We specialize in quick dirty surprise attacks.” Shocker there… not.
[Ruarc o’Conaill] There is easy teasing between the two, which Ruarc is happy to continue. But there is a world difference between teasing and going all out, right? Well, you would think so. Of course, the city here holds proof that the blood of the Fianna runs a little to hot at times.
“Sound like’n ye got a good mix o’ tribes then. If’n I hadn’t met victor, I would have thought the Wendigo all be ragefilled savages, dead set on taking back thei’ lands from th’ white man an’ th’ like. Live an’ ye learn, right?”
He finishes the dog with his secon bite, chewing slowly and swallowing before he gives a hearty burp.
“An’ I be damned if’n that did’nae hit th’ spot, it did.”
[Marni] In the time it takes him to finish his one dog, she’s almost finished her two. She takes the final bite of her second, and rubs her belly with a moaning sigh of delight. “Did it ever… That’ll hold me for a little while, anyway. for which the bean thanks ya…” She pats her lower belly again, with a chuckle, and nods.
“Yeah, Victor isn’t you’re normal bloke. He’s a good one. So what about you? You been round long?”
[Ruarc o’Conaill] ”Nay… I jus’ arrived a week or sae ago meself… I got me a call tae get meselv ove’ here tae tend to a wee pup from a fiann family over th’ ways… An’ I had met this lass who be tellin me about Chicago, so I figured, why not?”
He shrugs and shakes his head some.
“They got me a plane ticket, an’ now im just waitin fer the wee one tae arrive. It fits wi’me bein a Rover an’ all.”
[Marni] She listens, and then chuckles. “A wee one? A cub? Ain’t seen one of them around for a while now. Had one, but she moved on. Most come here already ranked an’ lookin for glory, what with the business goin on up north.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I hate flyin – recon ya made yer seatmats a bit uncomfortable, huh?”
[Ruarc o’Conaill] ”See, th’ wee one be a full-moon, so ’is family says. Aint nae a better place tae learn tae be a warrior then right in th’ middle o’ a war if’n ye ask me.”
Oh yes, he is charming smiles and warm demeanor, and a full blooded warrior psychopath to the bone. To his mind, there really isn’t a better way to learn how ti fight for your life, then actually having to fight for your life.
“an’ seatmate? Ye think they flew me couch? Nae lass, I was sent on one o’ them big delivery t’ings. We had a kinfolk who set me up. I got tae ride with a lot o’ overnite packages outta London I did. Them boys at O’hare seemed a might bit surprised at findin me in the plane they did. Felt it was bette’ not tae sitck around fer them custom boys. So ‘ere I am.”
[Marni] She just chuckles and shakes her head. “Ah, i see. I ain’t never been in a plane – I always figured that if I was supposed t’fly, that Id be given wings. Then i done went and joined Hummingbird and fuckin guess what I got in the bargain? Ain’t never gonna have to use one of them metal deathtraps again!”
She grins, winningly, and then stretches, her arms up overhead, before slipping her hands into her pockets again.
“Guess yer right- get a lot of trainin round here. Ya met Lukas yet?” idly curious.
[Ruarc o’Conaill] (Le fade)