[Owen DeTerizzi] [nightmares?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 6, 9 (Failure at target 6)
[Owen DeTerizzi] *Last night was horrendus. A mouthy kin, humiliation, falling through the velvet curtain, and then a night of twisted dreaming made for a churlish theurge. He needed an escape from the acreage and his obligations there. He’d come to town for a distraction, and had found it in a movie. So it was that the glasswalker was now getting a crash course in Chicago Winter, stepping out from a theatre within his own bubble of unoccupied personal space. He was a handsome man, dark featured and striking, hair long and deep brown about his shoulders, dark facial hair emphasizing a tapered jaw. He would almost be pretty, were it not for the casual masculinity of his clothing. A dark navy peacoat is being hauled over top of a granite colored sweater, dark jeans already picking up snow along the cuffs.
He’s grimly contented, though to himan eyes he seems strange and suspicious. Standing on the sidewalk with his precious popcorn balanced in a long fingered hand, theurge wrestling with coat and scarf.*
[Grace McAllister] The short blonde girl didn’t exit the theater like he did. No, she’d stepped out of a coffee shop near by. She would have tried for a bar.. but let’s face it.. she didn’t look anything like she was twenty one. The poor thing just had a baby face. Ah, but no matter.
She had a dark knit hat on, which hid most of her hair anyway – only a poney tail at the back indicated at one point – her hair might have been done nicely. Her features were soft.. but nothing drop dead about them. She was average. Cute, but over-lookable.
Her rage was barely palpable, but the breeding was clear enough to those who knew what to look for. She paused a moment to look up at the street sign, then abruptly turned and nearly walked smack dab into the Theurge messing with his coat.
[Marni] She shouldn’t be out. She shouldn’t be wandering the streets this close to term. She… well. She’s a Rat. She shouldn’t do a whole lot of things – but it’s never stopped her before. Just like this snow will not stop her now (she’s lived on the streets through worse), just like Ray’s concern will not stop her. She’s pregnant, not dead, and she wants… something. Something that has her trudging the streets looking for it.
She’ll know it when she finds it.
Right?
So she trudges through the snow, warm in the clothing Ray has gotten her, despite the fact the coat won’t close all the way over her swollen belly. Her curls are held into place by a knit hat, pulled down over her ears, a scarf wrapped around her neck. Her hands are shoved into the pockets of the coat, holding it closed with gloved fingers. Her boots are sturdy, though her jeans are damp from her wanderings.
She trudges on, toward a coffee shop, in hopes something THERE will be what she wants…
[Owen DeTerizzi] Erm.
*Thats it. No “LOOK WHERE YOU’RE WALKING!” No retaliatory shove. Grace isn’t even given the patented Chicago glare. Just “Erm.” as the short girl barely collides with the flat of the taller garou’s shoulder, spilling popcorn out the top of a greasy cardboard container. Strange green eyes slip down and catch hers, and lifetimes of celebrated deeds and royal lineages are reflected back at him in a rush. Its enough that Owen steps back, face blank with impressed shock for several moments, before he clears his throat.*
Evening, Daughter of Falcon.
*Rage is palpable in the theurge, a steady pulse contained by a thin thread of control. More man than wolf, more spirit than man. His physical presence seems … unstable in a way hard to put one’s finger on, unless of course, one was a werewolf. Marni waddles – yes – waddles towards the rumbling glasswalker, and green eyes skate over Grace’s shoulder and rest on her swollen form a moment, before slipping back to the fang under his nose. Attention right in front of him, for the moment. His voice flat.*
Had you wanted popcorn, you needn’t mug me. Please would do.
[Grace McAllister] It was her fault – she shouldn’t have turned so damn suddenly. She looked a little startled at the sudden closeness of the man. For some reason.. she felt like she should have been able to pick up on that palpable rage from more than a few inches away. But then again – what she liked to think, and what happened sometimes were totally different things.
“Sorry.. should have watched where was I was going..” Hands came up in a ‘I didn’t mean to do it gesture.’ A small grin touched her features as he clearly picked up on her linage. “Mm.. Popcorn.. does sound tasty..”
“Evening to you as well.. Son of…?” She paused, allowing a space for him to fill in the details she just couldn’t fill in on her own.
[Marni] Ok, fine. She waddles. She can’t help it any longer, as much as it galls her. Her center of gravity is all wrong, her hip joints feel loose and weird and the baby is pressing against her insides, and fighting for room, and roiling when there’s even the slightest bit of…
Rage.
The Bean has turned into quite the rage monitor. It’s pretty sedate, and used to Marni’s, having grown within her all these months – but add an outside source, and it’s stretch and kick and roll and generally make her pause and look around. She pulls her hands from her gloves and sets them against her belly, soothing with touch and a hum under her breath, even as she looks for…
Ah. There.
And also – ow.
“Easy Bean.”
[Owen DeTerizzi] Roach. Name’s Owen.
*Son of roach sounded considerably less savory to a passerby, and the bundled yuppie wrinkles her nose before scurrying well away from the scary pair -soon to be trio. Grace’s apology accepted in silence. The long haired Urrah tilts his bag of popcorn to the fang, taking a peice himself and chewing thoughtfully as a hugely pregnant woman waddles nearer the corner. She looks at them, says something, and Owen’s expression furrows into one of confusion. He finishes chewing and brushes popcorn dust from his fingers before rumbling an inquiry in a low tenor. Curt.*
I’m sorry, what?
[Grace McAllister] Mm.. yeah. Not quite so.. poetic. Whatev’ though. The teenager just shrugged. “Nice ta meetcha, Owen. I’m Grace.. just came back after fosterin’ out East.. Damn of a time I picked though.”
A small hand reached up and snagged a few pieces of the offered popcorn. “Thanks” She muttered even as her gaze followed Owen’s to the very pregnant woman. [Sorry, damn thing stopped refreshing]
[Marni] She blinks, and then chuckles, running her hand over her belly, before pointing at it. “The Bean. S’restless.”
So’s mama, to be honest, and even now she rocks her weight back and forth from side to side, her brow furrowing slightly before she shrugs. “Happens when there’s a bit too much anger in the air, if ya get my meanin.”
Which, of course, they will.
[Owen DeTerizzi] *Say what you would about Owen’s flat and broodish mannerisms, his face was an open book for all to read. Realization dawns on him in a flash, and the Glasswalker can’t help but give a weary half-smirk as he gruffs.*
Well then. Seems its a party. Falcon, Roach, and… ?
*Popcorn is tilted to Marni as well, with a bob of eyebrows that indicates he’s wryly amused at the humor of the situation.*
[Grace McAllister] “It kinda looks like more than a bean at this point, miss.” The teen seemed good natured enough. “Looks like yer ready to pop soon..”
After eating the few kernels of corn, her hands suck back into the warmth of her pockets.
[Marni] She chuckles and wrinkles her nose as he offers the popcorn, then reaches out to take a small bit. Which is a minor miracle, though they wouldn’t know that. “I’m hungry I think, but I don’t know for WHAT… this craving shit is totally bogus, man…” She plops a piece into her mouth, and then makes a face. Nope, not it. She eats it though, because she’s got fuckin’ manners.
Honest.
Falcon Roach and “Rat. Sounds like a motherfuckin’ rock band or somethin, huh?” It’s said with a grin, that lights up her eyes, and is an expression far more natural than any other expression.
[Marni] As for the popping, she groans and nods. “Any day now probably.. but I think it ain’t ever fuckin’ comin out…”
[Owen DeTerizzi] Well, its decided then.
Falcon Roach and Rat. Ballad of the Bean. I’ll start booking us gigs.
*Popcorn is chewed blandly, Owen the straight-man rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. Nightmares made him stranger than usual, exhaustion painting him more comical than he typically was. The thought occurs to him belatedly that they should retire somewhere more private than a street corner, and the theurge gestures to a parkinglot nearby, and the ugly brown honda parked therein.*
If we intend on talking, perhaps some seclusion?
[Grace McAllister] “I don’t sing.. but I can shake a mean tamborene..” Grace looked hopeful – even if she knew it was a joke.
A small nod. “Somewhere warmer would probably be good too.. if only for the Bean’s sake.” She motioned toward Marni a bit with an elbow.. since she wasn’t taking her hand out for nothin.
Once motioned too.. the girl lead the charge .. in a calm and organized manner towards the parking lot.
[Marni] She laughs. “The ballad of the Bean. I like it.”
He nods toward the car, and she takes a look before nodding as well. “alright – an if either of ya figure out what th’fuck I’m cravin, aside from droppin this damn kid already, I’ll… uh… be grateful.”
Some prize. She turns with them, and makes her slow way toward the parking lot with them.
[Owen DeTerizzi] Oh. Watch the ice.
*Its rather belated. Pregnant women – er – garou, were hardly something Owen typically concerned himself with, a long finger pointing lazily at a frozen patch of run off as he slows to stride beside the gnawer. Grace leading the way to the rusted civic, the theurge has time to look Marni over frankly. She didn’t even smell. Imagine that. Speaking of smell, once the car door creaks open and they each finagle their way into the tiny vehicle, the odor of wolf is potent, recognizable if the ladies are of a more animalistic bent. Female, wolf. Owen clears his throat and looks over his shoulder to encompass Grace (in the backseat – no way marni’s fitting there) and Marni both.*
Owen DiTerezzi. Cliath rank Crescent moon. “Riddle me This”.
[Grace McAllister] Grace was a skinny little thing.. especially when compared to the poor pregnant Child o’ Rat. Gaia help her if she ever gets in that condition. She found a spot in the back which didn’t have a wrapper from a fast food joint.. or at least a spot that looked a little more clean than the rest of it. She was going to have to bathe later – that fact she’d already resigned herself too.
“Grace McAllister. Cliath.. just got back home from passin’ my Rite, actually.. and I’ve been named Temperance’s Shadow..”
[Marni] Watch the ice, he says, and she snorts. “Whole fuckin’ city is Ice – can’t help but watch it..” but she does go easy over that spot, and makes it unscathed to the car.
She doesn’t stink. She’s clean. She’s well cared for – and even while on the street she was always clean an’ tidy. Stereotypes ain’t always right..
She slides into the front with a grateful look to Grace as she gets into the back seat. She settles with an “oof…” and a wince that travels across her face, briefly. She sets her teeth, and slides fingers along her swollen belly, and takes a slow breath.
Then, with that same lil grin… “Marni Geller – Sticky Fingers, an’ ya probably ain’t wanna know why they call me that, neither. Cliath, no moon, an’ obviously all kindsa fucked… about 9 months ago.” Oh she’s incorrigible, even now.
[Grace McAllister] Grace giggled. She couldn’t help it.
And, when she managed to get over her immature mind.. she added. “Oh yeah. I’m a no moon too..”
[Owen DeTerizzi] *Traffic tickets are what Grace has to push aside.. A half dozen citations for not having mirrors on his vehicle that will go ignored until he has money to pay them. Owen simply inclines his head in what likely is meant to serve as a nod. Rites of passage. This was a foreign concept to the glasswalker. His had been a phonecall to set up living arrangements outside Miami, and yet when other garou spoke of theirs they did it with such pride that he couldn’t help feel he’d missed out on a thing or two taking the fast track.
The glasswalker muffles a yawn with his hand, passing remaining popcorn to Grace as he turns on the car with a great spluttering of the engine, and fiddles with the heat. Green eyes flick to Marni as she speaks again, nodding at Grace’s interjection.*
Grace. Marni. I’m new to the city, not sure which packs you two run with.
[Grace McAllister] “Well.. somehow, I don’t think my mom counts as a pack.. so I guess I don’t run with a pack yet. But, I did go to Target today with her. So maybe it counts? I did hunt down some skittles while we were there.” Her tone was light, playful. It was either the sort of thing she’d be appreciated for – looking on the bright and goofy side.. or it’d make people want to throw her out of the car. Hard to say at this point.
A beat.
“I just got back. Haven’t had time to work anything up yet. Still lookin’ for my Elder around here. Somethin about her bein’ out east or something..”
[Marni] Packs.
[thats what she wants, what’s missing, what has a gaping whole inside her that she can’t quite fill with anything else, thats the craving, thats the need, thats..]
The muscle at the corner of her jaw jumps, as she grinds her teeth, but then she forces herself to relax again. “Ain’t packed.” Grace is looking for her elder, and she smirks, slightly. “Lady Kate is off challengin for rank. I suspect you’ll have ya face t’face soon nuff. I kin give ya her contact info if ya ain’t got it yet.”
[Owen DeTerizzi] *Owen is silent. Considerate for so long it becomes awkward. Becomes strange to sit in a car with a man that seemed like at any moment he’d fade from existance. In truth, he’s preoccupied. Shadows of the spirit world draw his attention, derail his thoughts, and when he collects them again his eyes are hooded. Faded and Hazy. Voice a deep sleepy rumbling from the depths of his chest.*
Have a vision for this place. Have a mind to form a pack with a focus on the city. Wage war not just on the battlefield, but in the boardrooms and toxic waste sites too. Could use a couple no moons, likely.
*Its a moment before things snap back into clearer focus, Owen looking from female face to female face, adding abruptly.*
However. Still carefully considering which spirit to seek patronage from. Still a ways from formality. On a less grave note, I’m also looking for a roomate.
*And that, gets a tired smirk.*
[Grace McAllister] “I have it.. thanks. I’m just waiting for her return. I wrote a letter.. but it seems a little old fashioned. I’d rather just stop by and say hello.” Grace futzed with her phone as Owen went all quiet and Theurgy on them for a few minutes.
“Well.. maybe we’ll have to see how things shake out then, eh?” She grinned. “If ya’ll got phones.. I got a number you can have..?”
“Oh.. and Owen, would you let me out – I gotta go catch someone around the corner here..”
{Must head to bed.. computer not a comfy sleepin place..}
[Marni] She watches him, considers him, studies him as he fades out an’ in again. She is quiet at the little comment, and then she just takes a breath, and closes her eyes. She turns to the window before she opens them again, hiding away her expression.
“We’ll see.”
It’s all she say. It’s all she allows herself to consider. The only thing clear in those two words is this: she was hurt, and hurt badly. So badly she has chosen t’be alone for her entire pregnancy, for months. She still hurts – an ache so deep only concentrating on Ray and The Bean has kept her going thus far.
For Grace though, she rattles off her number easily enough. “Ray ain’t like it when I wander, so makes me carry his old phone.”
[Grace McAllister] {Okies ladies, gotta bounce. Thanks! Grace takes numbers, gives out if asked.. and shimmy’s her way out of the car.. to meet ya’ll another day! Night!}
to Marni, Owen DeTerizzi
[Owen DeTerizzi] You are very pregnant.
*Stale fact to Marni, Owen having given the spunky fang his number with a wry twitch of lips. He asks where he can drop the Gnawer off, citing a long drive home, and expectant roomate as cause to cut their chat short. The theurge does not inquire as to the hurt in her voice. They aren’t pack, They aren’t tribe. They are acquaintances, and its non of his concern.*
[Marni] She just laughs at that. “Yeah. An without any real help – well, he’s freakin a bit. Ain’t it a bitch.”
She shrugs with a grin, and gives Owen the address to Ray’s – their – home, enjoying the fact that it’s obviously VERY swanky. She picked a hella baby daddy, for sure. He doesn’t ask questions, and she offers no answers either. When she leverages herself out of the car, she pauses, and takes a breath, before turning to give him a wave. “Later.”