[Adara Mires] It was a cloudy night, but the temperature was pretty warm. People were walking around, heading to clubs and bar. It was friday night, weather was nice, it was a good time for parties.
Adara was heading toward the Church. She hadn’t seen Janis in such a long time and she hear rumors that the Rotagar might have left the city. This would suck badly for she really liked the Fenrir. She was dressed casually, in running shoes, faded skinny jeans, a green tank top and a hoddie over it, unzipped. Her long dark brown hair was tied in a ponytail with a lock left free to fall over her left eye.
She walked casually, hands in her pockets, people avoiding the slim young woman when they got too close. It was a strange sight, that a pretty girl was getting hit on by young men, especially the rougher crowd who loves whistling and cat calling every good looknig ladies that passed by. Somehow they started to when she was a little farther away but stopped as soon as she got closer, looking away, uncomfortable.
Finally, the Church is in view and she takes the few last steps before opeing the door and walknig in. She didn’t call out loudly but said “Hello? Anyone home?”In a soft tone. Waking sleeping Fenrir was a dumdass thing to so, so she tries to avoid doing so, while letting her presence been known.
[Rory] She just gotten back to Chicago herself. The strangely quiet, pretty young Fianna walking for miles, then taking the bus, where she was avoided for several reasons, from her Rage, to the fact that she was so obviously injured. She had cleaned up the best she could in a public restroom before catching the bus, but there’s only so much she could do… The ride was long, but ultimately uneventful – spent alternating her gaze outside the window and the passing countryside, to the small piece of paper she carried in her hand, as if it held the secrets of the world written on it.
And maybe, to her, it did.
It was a kinfolk – one who knew the language, and knew her story, and knew her to be wronged so often at the hands of the Arizona Septmembers – that wrote it for her. Showed her the letters, explained how it worked out to be pronounced the way it is, and also told her the meaning. She has little reason to doubt the woman, though it is hard to believe still. So she stares at the paper, her lips curled into a little pleased grin. Even if the woman lied – she knows what it’s supposed to say. She knows what it means to her.
That was a couple of hours ago. Now, she has just arrived at the packhouse after a stop to get her minimal belongings from the apartment she shared with the bogeymen, moments before the Fury. So soon before, that when Adara enters in, she finds Rory moving quietly through the sanctuary from the kitchen, on her way to finding the smallest unoccupied room she can settle into.
She tips her head, slightly, and lifts a hand in a little wave. “Hi.”
Her jeans are tattered and stained in blood – fresh, from the looks of it, though dried and crackling – her tank-top is shredded along the bottom, the strips of which are used to bind the wounds (and source of so. much. blood) on her belly. The slashes across her pretty face have already faded to the barest of marks. Beat up shoes on the bottom, and blood-red curls on top, and that oh so shy demeanor in between…
[Adara Mires] She walked around for a short moment before two things hi her: the smell of blood and a familiar scent. One she hadn’t smeled in years but one she would remember all her life because that how she was, she remembered things. The spotted the redhead and she had to blonk a few times before saying anything
she knew to whom the smell belonged to, but seeing Rory face to face was quite a shock. She remember the metis for many years ago. She had met her while she was visiting a nearby Sept with her mentor. She had mingled with hte young cubs and sparred, trained and hanged out with. All except one, a young, very pretty redhead who was teased and shun by all. Maybe it was because she had a weakness for redheads, or maybe it was because of her accepting nature, ifshe was honest with herself, both factors influenced her decision, but she never teased or hurt the young girl. It annoyed the other cubs and made them be more distant to the young fury, yet Adara went to talk, and spend a little time with the Fianna, even sang for her.
Maybe it made them friends in the metis’s mind, maybe just an interlude in her life or maybe Rory didn’t remember the dark haired woman, but Adara always did remember her fondly. Her tribe was more accepting of metis than many, and she had been even more accepting than most of her Sisters. She never blamed someone for their birth. If someone was to blame it was the parents.
“Hello Rory “She always called her by her name, not using the insults the others were calling the Ahroun “It’s been a while”She says with a warm friendly smile.
[Rory] She tips her head, slightly, and studies the woman. something tugs at her, a memory within a memory, a shadow of something from home – no. Not home. THIS is home, now. A shadow of something from there. She wrinkles her nose, slightly, lifting her hand to rub absently at her [so recently slashed and broken] nose. Her pack is still on her back, along with Ruarc’s Guitar in it’s case, and she holds a couple of grocery bags in one hand as she studies Adara.
And, in her other hand, still – that precious piece of paper.
A niggling of memory, and she bites her lower lip, lowering her gaze as she tries to put a name to a face. Instead, she says simply… “You were nice mo te.”
She remembers. That, if not her name.
[Adara Mires] Her smile widen some “I was yes. I’m glad you remember. I’m Adara if you don’t remember” She offer her hand to her “It’s a pleasure meeting you again”
She watches Rory “Are you all right? And where are you coming from? Directly form Arizona? Are you new to the city?” There was concern in her voice and eyes as well as curiosity.
She help up her hands weither Rory had shaken or not the previously offered hand “And let me help you with your stufff, then we’ll get you cleaned up”
Her concern for Rory’s well being seemed genuine, still caring for the young woan even after all those years.
[Rory] Adara. She ducks her head again, hiding behind her hair. Still so very, achingly shy. She speaks now, though, where she hadn’t before. She at least attempts that. There are other things about her different now, as well. The spirits whisper and tell the tales, glory and honor and wisdom – Rory has done well despite her upbringing, despite their best efforts. she is what she is – not because of them, but in spite of them.
She shrugs a shoulder when asked if she’s alright, lips curling into a tiny shy smile. “Alive.” Which, truth be told, is more than she expected. The other questions, she answers as well. “Not new, but hust jome from Arizona. Chank rallange.” The blush deepens, as Adara can well imagine how well THAT went over with the Sept.
She hesitates a moment, and then hands over the two bags – keeping her pack, Ruarc’s guitar, and that piece of paper, before she leads the way to the sleeping quarters. “Moving in.” A prospective member, then.
[Adara Mires] She took the bags with an easy smile walking with the Fianna “Rank Challenge…home? By Gaia, I understand now why you’re in that state. How id it go?” Her tone was supportive. She hoped the challenge was a success.
Still she didn’t want to assume the metis had succeeded or failed. If she assumed she had succeed but didn’t, then it might shame the young woman more say so after a mark of confidence. If she assumed she failed and didn’t, it made her as bad as those Rory grew up with.
“So you’re going to pack with Last Watch? Congratulation, I heard they are a fearsome and solid pack” Too late it seem. She bumped into a familair face but the timing was wrong. Rory was about to pack with Kora, so it’s useless to talk to her about her idea of a pack. Too bad, she would have made a good addition.
[Rory] How’d it go? She wrinkles her nose, again, hiding her reaction behind her curls, as she makes a sound in the back of her throat. Then, that little grin. That utterly shy, peek of the girl Rory could have been – that she is, somehow, no matter her past.
She lifts her hand, holding the oh so precious piece of paper, the writing clear though the edges are bloodsmeared and dirty and crumpled. On it…
Sgian-Dubh
[ski-en du]
“Hidden Dagger”
Green eyes peek through those curls, as she shows the message there. A name, freely given, in exchange for the one she had taken as her own, owned and made honorable in the eyes of the Spirits of Chicago.
A single word says it all. “Passed.” And the feeling behind it suggests just how badly it went, and how steadfast, strong, bold the metis had to have been to even make the attempt, there.
[Adara Mires] She was watching Rory’s every reaction, noticing when she hid behind her curls. She showned her the paper, Adara lips curled into a proud smile. Rrory confirned that she passed
“Way to go girl!”She say, gently bumping Rory with her hip. She’d hug the woman warmly but she wasn’t sure how she’d react with her upbringing. Hip bump eemed liek a good concession
“Or should I say Sgian-Duh Rhya?’ She said more prespectfully once the initial happy reaction was over. It seem Adara knew that the challenge wasn’t for Cliath.
The act was she had kept tabs on the Metis, not close tabs but still, checking up if she was doing well and all. Like she odes for a few people she met and cared about. Johnnie was one of them in Seattle. She tried to get news from the Ratkin once in a while.
[Adara Mires] (*the fact was….)
[Rory] She’s bumped and Rory flushes again, this time with pleasure. She’s proud that she had managed to pass, that the Elders somehow had come to the conclusion that she deserved the rank, no matter her birth, her deeds putting lie to all they had told her, made of her.
Then she hears her new name.
With the honorific attached.
And she blushes even more, and lifts her hand to scratch at her nose, idly. “Rory.”
Still, just Rory.
She looks at the rooms as they pass, peeking in, and passing those already occupied, and of those that are empty, she bypasses several, until she picks the smallest of them all. She does not need much, have much. She waits a moment, two, and then nods – and heads into the small room, to set her pack on the bed. It settles with a clank and clatter, suggesting it’s quite a bit heavier than it seems.
[Adara Mires] She winked at the new Fostern, at how easilly she blushed, how attractive it made her but mostly at how down to earth she stays. She ask to be called Rory, she pick the smallest room, she doesn’t seem to want more than she have. They crushed her badly it seem when Rory had been growing up.
Yet, she went back home and faced her oppressors, she desired the rank. Yes the metis will grow to be something special, she was sure of that. She already was to be honest. “Has someone heard about your challenge? I mean..someone who ca tell it’s story? If not, I’d be honored if you tell it to me, so I can tell that story in a moot or in a special occasions. You deserve to have your story known you know”
She let her settle in the room, still holding the bags. She look at the guitar case “Do you play the guitar?”She ask curious. It would be great if she did.
[Rory] She sets the guitar down, as if it is something precious, despite the fact that the case is battered and the handle often repaired and wrapped in duct tape. She sides her fingers over the case as she leans it against the wall, and then glances at Adara, before she reaches for the grocery bags. In them, the few items of clothing she owns. First, though, she pulls out a green dress, that matches her coloring perfectly, that draws out the green in her eyes, and can be seen to be a flattering cut for the slender girl. It’s something special, that much is clear, as it’s carefully hung up, so the wrinkles from the short trip can fall from the soft material.
Only then does she shake her head, and nod right after. “I till well Kora.” at the thought of her story told, that blush creeps from face down her neck, along her shoulders. It’s not hard to imagine it going all the way to her toes in the right circumstances… “She tan cell if she wants at moot.”
But, also. “I’ll tell you too. For tou yo know.” and because she knows, because she has seen the hell where Rory was raised.
[Rory] and, as an afterthought, she touches the guitar again. “Learning.”
[Adara Mires] She lean against the door, watching Rory unpack her things “Ttat is a beautiful dress, you must look gorgeous in it”
Yes she knows it might make Rory blush again and yesh she’s a little shameless. The girl blush easilly but look so damn cute…she couldn’t help it..much. Rory tell her about Kora and she realized that Kora was a galliard as well, fostern too, so it was logical that Rory would use her to tell her story. Yet she accepted to tell Adara jsut it tell her and that made her feel special. The shy metis was comfortable enough to tell her personally of her ordeal. That was very nice of her
Her lips curled inot a smiel when she mention learning how to play the guitar “If you want, I can teach you. I have my own, so if you don’t want me to touch yours, it’ll be allright, we’ll use mine” She had noticed how precious to her the case and what’s inside was. She respected that.
[Rory] And it does – make her blush that is. It seems to be a default for Rory, who’s so achingly shy, and oddly innocent despite what she has seen, experienced, done. Like this, in monkey skin, in everyday interactions, she is often confused, often embarrassed, often ridiculed. but since coming here, to Chicago, she is also often accepted. It still shocks her.
But she grows. Slowly. Painstakingly. But she does.
She looks at the dress, and shakes her head, slightly. That story, she won’t tell.
The guitar, though. She lights up at the thought of learning more, and nods. “Ruarc’s guitar.” Never hers, though he gifted it to her. She still considers it the Fianna’s for her to care for. “Hatrick pelps.” She digs into her backpack, and pulls out the MP3 player that she was given as well, and lifts a shoulder in a little shrug. “and this.”
If she takes it, turns it on, it’s clear there are spoken lessons and guitar songs of a decidedly celtic variety on the player, enough that a determined student can learn the basics well enough, and ready herself for more.
[Adara Mires] She nodded “I’m glad Patrick helps you. He’s very skilled too” She said, praising her fellow Galliard easilly. She had a respect for the Fianna and she actually liked him a lot.
She gently took the mp3 player and listen to it, smiling softly “Yes, this will help you a lot as well. You’re pretty resourceful Rory. In no time you wil be able to play really well. I’ll make sure of that. That is, if you don’t mind spending time round me”
She shrugh slightly. The fianna seemed to like her well enough, but that didn’t mean she wanted her around too often. Yet Rorry’s initial reaction told her that her teaching would be appreciated. “So tell me, how do you plan to celebrate your new rank?”
[Rory] She nods – agreeing that Patrick is good. She likes him too, was devastated when Howard died, but can’t help but be glad it’s brought both of them to the Last Watch. assuming she passes muster, and is able to become a full member.
She offers a shy little smile, squirming under the praise of her resourcefulness, and nodding she’d like to elarn more. Not admitting that the MP3 player – it’s necessary, because of her Spoonerism, and the way things translate in speech – making it impossible to learn to read. Even now, even her name, she does not know why it says Rory when she makes those marks, only that that is the order it goes in, the curves and sticks. She cannot read it, only recognize that it is what Edwin said was her name.
The same with that precious piece of paper. Adara’s confirmation that it says what she was told it does is the only reason she believes that it does. She can stare at it forever, and never be able to read it on her own. But it doesn’t matter. It is precious just the same. And she’s still holding it.
As for her plans, she wrinkles her nose, slightly, and plucks at her shirt turned to bandages, and nods. “A shower.”
A simple creature, Rory.
[Adara Mires] She smiled, keeping her mind from wandering at the mention of a shower “That’s a good start. How about after the shower? Want to go out? Eat something? Get drunk? Dancing maybe?”
She stays where she is, against the wall, ready to turn her back if the shy and innocent yet poweful forstern decide to undress. She knows most confident women wouldn’t mind undressing in front of another but because of who she is, she always considered that when she watched it was the same as when a man watched. They probably wouldn’t undress before a man, hence why she gave them privacy.
Of coursewhen they don’t mind, it’s another matter entirely.
“WOuld you mind if I take a look at your guitar, make sure everything’s in order? Or someone already done that for you?”
[Rory] She gives a list of possibilities for after the shower, and Rory shakes her head. Not saying no, just admitting she had not thought about it. “I knon’t dow.” She honestly doesn’t. Her celebration had been in the smile offered to the Elder’s back, the look of brief triumph toward the Deed Stone that will forever bear her name, and in that piece of paper. She hasn’t though more than that.
She nods, slightly, as Adara asks to see the guitar, trusting the galliard with her most precious possession. While she looks, Rory stands and begins to peel from her blood stiff clothing. She is not shy. In fact, she doesn’t seem to equate her body with anything desirable at all, so there is no reason to hide while she changes. Not in front of men, not in front of women, not in front of pack, or friends, or foe. Her body is a weapon- and despite the suave teachings of a precious few men – she still retains her innocence in this matter. She is shy, but her skin is just that. Skin. And she shows it without hint of modesty for it.
[Imagine the gentleman who gifted her that dress, imagine his surprise when she started to strip in the aisle of the store to try it on, only moving to the dressing room at the urging of the flustered shopkeeper…]
so she disrobes, and digs in those shopping bags for her towel, her shampoo, and the special conditioner that Gina taught her to use to help tame those crazy curls into some semblance of good behavior, and a towel dressed only in the bandages she’ll need the aid of water to loosen from her skin.
[Adara Mires] She gently took the case and opened it, admiring the guitar. She looked up with a smile at Rory and ralized the other oman was undressing. She blinked and looked away, blushing. This time she was the shy one.
“Let me know once you’ve dressed again” She said in a slightly husky voice. The tone wassoft, smooth, caressing ot the ear and might remind how Rory may have sounded a few times in her life, when with a man. She doesn’t look back, not because she didn’t want to, but because it was the right thing to do. She focused on the guitar, letting her fingers caress it, checknig the strings, of there was any weakness in the instrument. She was sure Rory would be devastated in there was one and if not taken care off, it broke the guitar.
She focus her mind as well, not letting it wander. It’s not that she was sex craved but because of her orientation and the world she lived in, her chances for partners were few it seem. And well most Garou, Metis and kin women were pretty gorgeous and Garou were creature of firce passion. It didn’t make things easy sometimes.
[Rory] She blinks, as adara blushes, and tips her head, slightly, studying the other woman. As often as she blushes herself, to have someone else do so for reasons she can’t possibly fathom, is an odd experience. She rubs the side of her nose, briefly, and then after finding her towel, she nods to the guitar.
“Play, if you want. I’ll quower shick.”
She trusts Adara with the guitar, and turns to slip from the room, still wrapped only in bandages. Such is life with the modesty challenged metis.
The guitar, of course, is in perfect condition, revered and adored and cared for.
[Adara Mires] When Rory speak ot her she reflexively raise her head then lwoer her gaze quickly with a soft “Wow”
She took a deep breath before speaking again “I’ll do that, take your time with the shower” She say softly, not looking up, a slight blush still on her cheeks. She change her grip gently on the guitar and let her fingers play on the cords, a song from an irish rock band called Flogging Molly: If I ever leave this world aline. She sang too, softly, it was late and she didn’t want to wake anyone up.
She plays on the guitar while Rory is away, singing softly as well, enjoying herself, taking her mind away from what she can’t have, loosing herself into the music and the lyrics. Music was her true passion and she felthappy anytime she could play.
[Rory] She blinks at the wow, confusion slipping across her face, briefly, before she offers that shy little smile again, and slips out of the room.
True to her word, she is not gone long, and when she returns, she has fresh bandages wrapped tightly around her midsection, accentuating her lean form, all slight curves and lean muscle. She’s at least put a clean tank top on over them, this time, as well as her underwear. She’d never worn it until Ray suggested how much fun it was to take them off – same with a bra, though she doesn’t indulge in one of those now.
Her hair is wet, dripping down her shoulders, ringlets springing up slowly as they dry. She finds her other pair of jeans, less tattered, newer, more expensive, more along the lines of that dress. Likely a gift from the same man.
She doesn’t disturb the playing, listening as she gets dressed, and finally settles to sit on the bed and listen, rapt attention watching the way adara’s fingers work the strings, plucking melodies from the guitar as easily as she breathes.
This time, it’s her turn. “…wow.”
[Adara Mires] Her eyes wandered briefly over the Fianna’s body when she came in dressed in underwear. She offer a warm, genuine smile at Rory when she praise her with a wow. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it. That’s what I’ll teach you. And of ourse, if oyu want to hear me play and sing, anytime you want and I’ll do it”
She tilt her head at the Forstern for a moment as she stop playing “Have you decided what you want to do?” She ask curious “And you decide, it’s your moment. I want to make you happy”
She watches Rory’s face “You have the most amazing eyes, do you know that?”
[Rory] She chews on her lower lip, absently, as adara suggests she can learn to play like that, and offers shyly. “I played Banny doy for Howard’s wake.” What she doesn’t say is that she practiced it for hours, until her fingers bled, and then practiced some more to make sure it was perfect.
And it was perfect. She hasn’t played for anyone else, since. Just herself, just trying to learn her lessons.
As for what she wants to do, she flushes again, color high in her cheeks as she shrugs a little. She doesn’t celebrate herself – this is uncharted territory. as is having someone compliment her eyes… She blushes brightly, and ducks her head to hide behind her curls shyly. IN anyone else it might be coy. In Rory, it is what it is… delight mingled with disbelief.
[Adara Mires] She smiled “Really? That’s great. Not that someone died, that’s never good, but that you played a song and all. I’ll have to listen to you play soon, so I can assess where your skills are at and improve on them”
She hand her back the guitar “Thank you for letting me play”
She watches the woman blush once more and hide behind her hair “Rory, you need ot realize something, because many people will tell you. You’re stunningly beautiful. The hair, the eyes, the freakles and that body of yours would make most men and some women go crazy. I”m being honest here. Just a little heads up for you will be complimented in your life”
She winks and grin “So..no opinion about what ot do? Do you like dirnking or dancing? Maybe you’re just hungry?”
[Rory] She takes the guitar, and pulls it into her lap, her touch reverent, respectful, loving even for this last reminder of a tribesman who showed her not all would curse her existence, who showed her how to dance under the moon, and drink and celebrate life, and all that is good about it. At least once, anyway. She carefully sets her fingers, and idly strums one of the five chords she knows, working her way through them easily, as she has practiced long, long hours to get them just right.
And then Adara says she’s stunningly beautiful, and that blush? Slips easily over her whole frame, dancing under freckles that cover every inch of her skin. She bites her lower lip, slightly, and peeks through her curls at Adara, before she is saved from replying by her belly’s answer to the last question, rumbling it’s discontent at it’s empty state.
“Hungry.”
[Adara Mires] She watch the fingers moves on the instrument and cords appreciatively. Yes the young Ahroun has been practicing hard it seem. It wil be a joy to teach her. She will be a dedicated student.
She move up, in a fluid move and offered her hand to Rory “I was serious. You are beautiful. I know you’re ont used ot hear it but it’s true. I want you to start thinking about it, so ackowledge it eventually. Just I hope you now know you’re a worthy warrior.”
She smiled, letting go of Rory’s hand once the Fianna is up, unless she felt liek prolonging the touch, but she doubt it would happen. “So hungry it is, so let’s go somewhere they serve good meat, it’s my treat and you can tell me about your challenge and anything else oyu want to talk about, we have some catching up to do”
She start moving toward the door, ready to head out with the lovely red head.
[Rory] Rory sets aside the guitar, setting it back into it’s case, closing it up safely until she can practice again later. Adara offers her hand, and after a moment, Rory slides her’s into the Fury’s. Her fingers are slender, pale, and fragile looking, as if they might break from the slightest pressure. They won’t, of course, but as with so many things about Rory, looks can be deceiving.
She lets the other woman pull her to her feet, and listens. She doesn’t exactly prolong the touch, but she does not shy from it either. It’s safe to assume Rory has not been touched in kindness much in her life, and each time it happens, she revels in it, savors it. She slips her feet into a pair of sandals, and nods, following Adara to the door and beyond.
She does not admit to worthiness, even as a warrior. Not exactly – but she does take that precious piece of paper, fold it carefully, and tuck it into the pocket of her jeans. It proves she is worthy of her new rank, gained by guts and glory. She may not be confident in much, but in battle, she is fearless. Always.
In dinner – less so. But she does relate the tale of her challenge, and she tells it true – if haltingly and with many mixed up words that need translated. And the meat they have for dinner?
Tastes of Victory.