[Imogen] She sinks to a crouch in an alleyway, her forearms resting on her knees, her balance powered through her core and legs. A flashlight marks her position as she leans forward with a pair of pincers to pick up a rather foetid strip of flesh, smelling of old meat and dried blood. A healthy amount of pelt, too thick and wiry to be that of a dog’s still dominates the torn flesh.
Imogen’s expression is set, as if permanently into one of well-bred dislike. She drops the remains of the body – the parts which can only resemble what might happen to a Garou if it were put, hamster like into a microwave which is then turned on high – into a bag where it joins the others congealing unpleasantly at the bottom of the garbage bag.
Some days, it’s simply better not to ask.
[Marni] Despite her new living arrangements, Marni is still most at home on the streets. She’s often seen walking, and more often not seen as she slips through alleyways and skulks along in the darkness, meeting with those most folks never see, or strive ever so hard to ignore. She is at home here. Those of the streets feel the heartbeat of the city, the breath of the cement below them, the blood of the those who hide under the dirt and the grime… and she is one of them.
Which is why she appears in the darkness at the back of the alleyway that holds one fiery-haired kinfolk peeling up pieces of flesh with a look of practiced distaste. Marni however, doesn’t seem bothered, as she bites into that first edge of sugarcone that holds her mint chocolate chip ice cream.
“Want help?” Offered softly as she leans on a shoulder against the wall.
[Imogen] The next piece is too congealed to pick up with pincers. She sets them aside and begins to scrape it off the brick with her fingers.
She flicks her gaze over her shoulder, her eyes coming to rest on Marni. The kinwoman is dressed simply, her jacket removed and laid over a nearby brief case. With her back turned, the Garou can see the gun in the holster tucked into her jeans. A navy blue t-shirt completes the dark ensemble, offset by bloodied latex gloves.
Imogen’s mouth curls, faintly. “I imagine it would put you off your dessert,” she observes.
[Marni] She is dressed as she always is, though annoyingly, she’s had to start leaving the top button of her jeans undone due to the beginning swell of her belly. She’s getting positively fat, she is, and it’s only going to get worse. A blue tank top is stretched over her curves, left untucked for the same reason her button is undone.
And she doesn’t stop eating. “Ain’t found nuthin that’d put me off my dessert. Ain’t even the bean here” a pat on her belly “makin me sick.” another bite, and she slurps up the melting desert inside as she pushes from the wall and steps closer, careful to avoid anything that still needs picked up.
“Any idea what happened?”
[Imogen] The doctor’s gaze flicks downward, her expression carefully maintained.
“Congratulations,” she says, neutrally.
Having paid homage to the bare necessities of etiquette, she turns her attention back to the gore. “I’m not quite sure,” she says. “Some o’ the flesh has bubbled and has a consistency o’ havin’ been cooked. I think -” she lifts her head to tilt her head back in the direction she’s already been, as evidenced by the scraped blood and lack of fur. “I may ha’ found the remains o’ an eyeball o’er there. Just an empty sack wi’ its iris, like its fluid had been cooked out. There was a tear in it, like steam had burst out.”
Her mouth twists slightly, mirthless. “Whatever it was, I don’t imagine it was pleasant.”
[Marni] She snorts, then chuckles. “Don’t put yourself out, Doctor Slaughter – ain’t anyone but a couple really thrilled about The Bean.” Fortunately, she’s one of those couple, hm? She finishes off the last bite of her cone, licks the dripping ice cream off her fingers, then closes the distance between herself an Imogen. She sinks to a crouch, knees apart to accommodate her shifting center of gravity, taking in bits of the bits and pieces as Imogen speaks of them.
“Gross – an’ definitely unpleasant. I kin ask around, see if anyone knows anythin.” She reaches to start helping scrape and pick up some flesh. She doesn’t bother with gloves. “If’n ya want, that is. Ain’t meanin to step in or nothin.” She’s already been burned by the Doctor’s tongue, she don’t want to feel that lash again.
[Imogen] Imogen shakes her head slightly as Marni suggests she not put herself out. “I haven’t,” she says, her voice mild.
Marni offers help, though hesitantly. Truth be told, Imogen does not recall the incident that the Garou does; and while she notices the careful way that Marni handles the offer, she does not grasp the significance.
“Have at it,” she says, a bloodied hand moving dismissively. “It is likely more of a concern for you anyway,” a sideways glance, a faint suggestion of a smirk. “After all, all I need t’do is clean it up.”
[Marni] She chuckles, and shrugs as she goes at peeling up a bit of flesh. “True nuff. I can ask Mama to make some queries too. She’s good with th’things on th’other side.” A bit of pride there, in her packmate, tribe mate.
“Ya do this stuff a lot. For yer job, I mean, as well as for us…” She wrinkles her nose, and rubs it with the back of her hand, before forming the question she’d been getting at. “Can ya tell how long it’s been here?”
[Imogen] As Marni begins, her purpose not entirely clear, Imogen glances at her along the line of her shoulder an eyebrow arching. A few strands of hair, most pulled back from her face with a covered elastic band, have fallen into her eyes. She wipes them away with the back of her wrist, careful not to get the blood on her skin.
When the Gnawer finishes, Imogen smirks slightly, “If I were doing this fer my job right now,” she says, “I’d refuse to commit to a time. There’d be research t’be done. As it is,” she shrugs.
“Th’cookin’ o’ the flesh and blood makes it harder to guess. However, I’d guess more than six hours. Less than twenty four.”
[Ray Ostermann] Late…late evenings were not at all uncommon for Ray, his bosses demanded money, boat loads of it infact, and Ray was the man who delivered over the ruined existences of others dreams and hopes. But times were rough, and in these times some people prevailed, and others failed.
By in large Ray liked to think of himself as the former. He walked down the street in his office attire his eyes briefly flickering to his rolex, wondering where his mate and ward had gotten off too. There was afterall a reservation that was growing rather stale.
[Marni] She grins a little – easy going, Marni, always – and nods. “I can see that.” That she wouldn’t commit, yeah. She wrinkles her nose, again, and peeeeeels off a bit of skin, and adds it to the bag at Imogen’s side.
“Think it was dumped here, then, or actually done here?” Curiosity runs deep in the ragabash, that much is clear.
Footsteps heard, she snaps her head upwards, watching the mouth of the alley, body tensing in that ‘ready to spring’ kind of way… but when the oh so familiar form of her Mate is the one that moves into the mouth, she relaxes, instantly. “In here, Ray! Got a little side tracked.. watch your step!”
[Imogen] “Done here,” she says. “s’a lot o’ effort and not a lot o’reward to move somethin’ like this. Plus a tedious job just t’set it up like this.”
Imogen turns sharply toward the same direction of Marni, her spine loosening infinitesimally as she recognizes the Kinfolk and Marni speaks.
“Mister Ostermann,” she greets him.
With that, she turns back, tugging free a piece of congealed and tearing flesh from the wall, and dropping it into the bag.
The smell of the alleyway is most unpleasant. Boiled blood and flesh all congealing, mixing with the foetid smells of piss and dirt and garbage of the alleyway.
[Ray Ostermann] Ray turned to the familiar voices with that warm and charming smile, but it all faltered ever so slightly when the smell of rank, boiled flesh assailed his nostrils, it wasn’t the pleasant smell of slow roasted cow or pork..but something all together more vile, more undesirable. He actually puts a hand over his mouth initially, finding it both repugnant to smell, and to see.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you were waylaid.” He says as his hand drops from his mouth and he takes a few careful steps into the alley…can’t ruin those good shoes after all. “Hello Dr. Slaughter.” He says equally formally as he moves further in, looking over the carnage.
“I certainly hope this was the other guy.” He says looking to Marni in question.
[Marni] “Someone’d have to had noticed then – someone knows somethin.” A nod. It takes time to boil someone like this, and the smell… someone has to have noticed. Someone who’s not oblivious to the smell like Marni is – after all, she’s spent most of her life living in alley’s just like this, curled up in a box in a corner alone or with friends, sleeping, eating, living on the streets.
Ray has her complete attention for a long moment, as she lets her eyes slide over him, meeting his gaze at last as a smile slides warmly over her lips. “Hey.” A lot said, in a single word – before she brings her attention back to the job at hand.
She chuckles, and shrugs. “Dunno who he is. Stepped in to help Dr. Slaughter when I saw what she was dealing with – will have to ask around and get some info on what happened. Then find who was responsible.”
Said as if things like this are an everyday occurrence – because in her life, they sorta are.
[Imogen] “If that someone was a human,” Imogen observes as she leans closer in, picking up her pincers and using them to scrape a particularly degenerated and baked piece of flesh from the concrete, “then no,” a wry glance toward Marni, “they might not know anything. The pelt is thick enough fer war-form. Not much else.
“However,” she straightens slightly from her crouch gesturing briefly around the alleyway, “Something took th’bones.”
[Ray Ostermann] Ray returns that look to Marni, but admittedly the smell, and the sight of all that was around them drew his attention, even if he didn’t want that to be the case, he shook his head as he stepped into the alley some more and listened to their exchange.
“Lovely…someone wanted trophies the hard way it would seem.”
[Victor Oseragighte] He’s not been out to Cabrini for a bit, but he’s feeling that wanderlust. Maybe it’s because it’s his moon, Luna’s half-face getting under his skin. He puts out feelers as he goes, checking through the bond their patron offers if any of his pack is there. That probing comes less in words than a questioning sensation, his curiosity transmitted wholecloth along the link.
Gray shorts down to his knees, his red and blue Montreal Alouettes jersey, and black hard-toed boots make up his clothes. Only the shorts haven’t been seen before by his new septmates.
[Marni] She chuckles and nods. “True, but you’d also be surprised what the rats can tell ya, if th’right person is askin.” Like Mama. Something in this alley knows exactly what happened.
As for the bones, that has Marni tipping her head slightly, brow furrowed. “Could be used for a number a things, really. Maybe thats why they boiled’im, to get just th’bones easier…”
[Imogen] Imogen is briefly quiet, a distinct pause. “Something like this,” Imogen says, “would ha’ taken days to boil.” A glance about the alleyway.
“T’ say nothin’ of a significant receptacle.”
[Ray Ostermann] “Then…how?” Ray asks as he looks about at the spectacle. “I can’t imagine the neighbor’s simply accepting the smell of boiling Garou in their alleyways.” He says as he stands there now, surrounded by gore…the man has yet to lend a hand however…he might be a gnawer now, but that doesn’t really change personal habits.
“Could it have been done on…the other side and then brought here?”
[Marni] “Good question.” she nods, and stands, dropping another bit of flesh into the bag, before she moves to explore the depths of the alley, looking for doors, for anything to give them an idea of if it was done here, where, and how.
Shamefully, she didn’t even look to see what was housed in the buildings on either side before joining the kinfolk in the cleanup mission.
[Imogen] (uh. So. *LOL* guys, this was just a creative scene start rather than a lead in to something Bad Ass or One Shotty. Aaaaaaaaaaaaand I kind of have to go to bed because I gotta get up in the morning and work Stupid Hours.
So the choices! There are two. One, I can go, we can assume Imogen cleans up and you guys can go with …. finding nothing.
Or! If you guys want to do this as a one shot type deal, I can do it – not this weekend but the weekend afterwards.)
[Victor Oseragighte] (( I didn’t really get into the scene, so not my call. I leave it up to you all. ))
[Marni] (since timing is SO hard for me lately, stupid job, and weekends are impossible, equally stupid job *L* it’s all good, we can go with finding nothing, and go from there. :) that way no one is stuck trying to find another time to get everyone together.)
[Ray Ostermann] [Agreed, find onthing is much easier]
[Imogen] (excellent. *MWAH*)
[Imogen] (that would be to Lessa, not to you smelly guys. *grin*)
[Marni] (hahah! And *MWAH!* back atcha, Mei. :) )
[Victor Oseragighte] (( Victor showers! ))
[Imogen] Imogen’s breath exhales sharpy, “The neighbours around here,” she says mildly, “accept corpses for weeks. And t’be honest, yeh can speculate endlessly and never find out. If this were a human I’d be able to perform tests. As it is.” She shrugs slightly, glancing up at Marni who has begun to scout the doors and buildings. They mostly appear abandoned, squat things which were once residential or warehouses and have now become edifices with gaping and gouged windows for eyes.
“Unless there is someone truly missin’ from yer Sept,” she says, “I would assume it’s from th’other side and not concern myself too much.”
And with that, Imogen drops herself from the speculation. She no longer participates, having said her peace, returning herself to the grisly duty of cleaning the alleyway, not of its blood entirely, but simply of the signs and remnants of anything supernatural.
Sadly, blood splashing an alleyway in this part of the city is not something of note.
[Marni] She doesn’t find anything, of course, and she nods to Imogens word on the matter. “I’ve not heard of any of ours…” yes, she noticed Imogen’s use of ‘yer’ instead of including herself.. “gone missin, but will check around, just in case.”
Imogen continues working, and no longer speculates, and Marni pauses to move closer to Ray, resting her head against his shoulder briefly, murmuring apologetically, “Was I too late for our dinner?”
[Ray Ostermann] Ray chuckles as Marni rested her head upon his shoulder and nods, if he was upset about the fact that she was indeed to late, it certainly didn’t show. “The service in that place has been on the decline for the last few months anyways. They don’t deserve our patronage.” He says with a smile to Marni.
“We can find another place…after the smell of this has faded somewhat.”
[Imogen] (Night, folks!)
[Marni] She chuckles softly “Good. Or, we could pick up some take out for home, and then i could shower, get rid of the smell…”
She looks up at him, and grins, teasingly “and quite possibly dine naked…”
[Ray Ostermann] Ray raises a brow, and from the look on his face he finds that idea entirely pleasant. “I’m certain we can manage something along those lines. In fact I strongly recommend it.”
He says as he turns to stride from the alleyway, an arm moving to the small of Marni’s back to guide her out…not that she really needs it.
[Marni] She laughs, softly, and wipes her hands on her jeans, and lets him lead her out of the alleyway. Its those little things that have always drawn her to him – he treats her like a lady, despite the fact she’s little more than a gutter rat. He guides her, takes care of her, even though she could tear him in half with barely a thought if she wanted too. Fortunately, she doesn’t.
“Sides,” she says with a chuckle. “My clothes don’t fit right anymore, hardly. Look at this! I’m positively obese!” She pats her belly, then looks up at him with a mischievous grin. “Which won’t, of course, stop me from eating seconds.”
[Ray Ostermann] “Dare i ask if you’d care to go shopping for something a little more…form fitting?” His voice is oh so carefully toned to be both a joke and a careful inquiry, it was something the gutter rats would have to learn to deal with…the man had guile and wit..in spades.
“And I suppose we should order thirds….midnight snacks are of course necessary.”
[Marni] She laughs and nudges him with her elbow, looking up at him with dark eyes that sparkle with mischief, mirth. Marni is a lot of things – including a good deal of fun to be around.
“You can dare to ask me anything you want, Mr. Ostermann. I did promise, after all, to answer any question you might have. Including ones about my form, and fitting it.”
She tucks her hands into her pockets, and nods, her belly grumbling audibly at the thought of midnight snacks. “As always, you have the best ideas. As for clothing – maybe sometime soon. I already cant button my jeans up all the way. Gotta shove em down under your Bean here.”
[Ray Ostermann] “Mine hmmm I think we both had a hand in that particular bean. Or was I the only one awake in that hot tub?” He asks with a grin as they step out into the street, free of the smell and disgusting muck of the alley.
“Well I’ll be sure to take very, very thorough measurement’s when we get home…i promise.”
[Marni] “Oh I was far from asleep, as I’m sure you’ll remember. And if you don’t, I’d be more than happy to give you a rerun…”
They step into the street, and she grins up at him at his promise, even as she makes sure to keep her hands – covered in gore as they are – tucked into her pockets, so as not to draw any undo attention to them. (Like they don’t stand out on their own, anyway…)
His comment makes her grin, and she nudges him again, contentedly.
“So, have you had any run-ins with Lukas, or any of them since this was all finalized?” Curious, always, but also protective in a way she’s never quite felt before.
[Ray Ostermann] The man shakes his head as he leads the woman down towards his car, that sporty thing…it would be tough to keep the blood out of the upholstery. He doesn’t look upset by the reminder of his former tribe…infact he simply shrugs.
“I haven’t seen nor heard from them…I’m guessing it would be because they no longer care…or need me. Which suits me just fine.”
[Marni] She relaxes a bit, at that, and chuckles. “Good. I’d hope that anything they’d have to say is said to me, instead of you anyway. Sides, I definitely care, and definitely need you, too.”
It’d be hard to keep the blood off the upholstery, but fortunately it was a discovery rather than a battle – and all that’s on her is the bottom of her shoes, on her hands. Not that he’d worry, had she been injured, or it was a rescue mission – but the fact she scrapes off her shoes against the curb shows she realizes exactly what kind of impact she has on his life, on what he’s used too.
“If they give ya any grief, just let me know. Hey – what you said back there, about bringin’ the stuff from the other side? Possible, but very difficult – it’s complicated, bringing stuff from side to side, can’t just grab somethin’ an’ drag. If that were true, I could grab ya and drag you over there, and that just don’t work. You’d have to bind it by ritual, and binding boiled body parts..” She shudders… “I don’t think even the other side would enjoy that…”
[Ray Ostermann] “I certainly hope not…I can’t imagine the dry cleaning bill.” He says lightly, a joke to lighten the mood as they step up to his speedy luxury sports car. He moves about and opens Marni’s door for her, and waits for her to get in, before moving to his own and sliding in next to her.
“I have a feeling most of them simply don’t care…” He says in regards to his former Tribe. “I really don’t believe I was that important besides simply being part of the tribe.”
[Marni] She laughs, and as he opens to the door she leans up and presses a kiss along his jaw, before she slips into the car, careful not to really touch anything, settling her hands into her lap, as she relaxes comfortably into the posh seat.
“Well, fortunately, the tribe that swiped you, believes that every person – kin or true – is important. And not just cuz ya got money, but for who you are. Despite what they say, being a Bone Gnawer is something to be proud of, no matter what the other assholes think.”