[Lonna Larson] Girls like Lonna Larson did not look like they belonged on the south side. She looked like the kind of girl that you saw on north side, in lake view. The kind of girl who looked like she should stand out and survey the territory all as hers. As a gift or a present or whatever the Hell was handed to beautiful women for the sheer sake of being beautiful. She wasn’t hard, she wasn’t harsh, she wasn’t any of the things that a life on the road or having been in more gunfights than she cared to think about.
She hadn’t had to shoot anything, or anyone for that matter, in a couple weeks. Fomor or otherwise. It gave her the kind of naive satisfaction that she felt like she could leave home unarmed for the first time in a month.
However, she was armed and primed for non-verbal protest, and today she was helping out a friend. Jessica James lived and breathed history. She loved old buildings, she loved history, she loved everything about history. So, when she heard that some nameless, faceless piece of shit Chicago history housing development was going to be condemned and there was nothing the city was going to do about it, she organized people. And they organized people.
And soon enough, there were twenty bleeding hearts loitering in front of a condemned building, armed with picket signs and human chains and what-have-you, and with little intention of leaving any time soon. Lonna included.
So this, ladies and gentlemen, is where our scene begins. With a Child of Gaia looking radiant under an overcast sky, paying a friend a favor.
And getting hungry.
[Giacomo Castellano] This place does have history, not a great one mostly but it is pretty to look at. Lots of old masonry and long windows on decorative brick. It’s crumbling sure, and the inside is a quarter century behind code like almost every other place on the south end of Chicago. That’s not the point for those outside though, it’s about preserving where you come from, keeping alive the dreams of the people who’ve come before you and the legacies left behind.
That’s all nice, but it’s not Jack’s history, it’s not even his city.
And the only way his heart is ever going to bleed is a small caliber dose of lead poisoning.
One of the most overlooked parts of the income of many middle and high level mafiosi is in union contracting. No-show jobs they often call them. A place like this is set for demolition and the city begins taking bids. A little money in the right places a few union bosses either strategically placed or leaned on grease the right palms and suddenly a organized criminal enterprise with it’s hands in demolition or construction is on the job. Somehow they just keep needing more time and the roster for the labor force looks much more full than the amount of men on the actual job. Enough ghost paychecks, delays and mysteriously disappearing necessary materials later? And in a year tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars have been made.
That’s what’s set to happen to the building Lonna’s standing in front of.
A white Escape pulls up, a rental and out steps a man, very good looking, in jeans and a t-shirt, both a little sweaty from the muggy weather with a smile. And a baseball bat. Behind him are two others, one of whom Lonna will recognize from two brief encounters at a party, manning a door. He’s thin and ragged as he’d seemed inside his nice clothes that day, popping from one foot to the other as he walks behind Giacomo Castellano whose crucifix bounces on the outside of his shirt like a reminder of one of the few powers in the world not bound by governments or supernatural creatures of any kind. Holy Mother Church is this about to get interesting.
“Help you kids!?” He smiles friendly with the bat slung over his shoulder.
[Lonna Larson] Lonna Larson had learned a lot in the short amount of time that she had been on protests. People were predictable. [They were dependable, she would think] People were predictable and behaved in predictable patterns when they were scared or when they were on the fence about an issue. [There was a sociological theory about that. Something about group mentality and the easy way to start panicking] She knew that people, by and large, wanted to be socially responsible so long as they didn’t get hurt or scared, or they could finish being socially responsible so they could watch Survivor.
A fair percentage of the people who did this sort of thing did it because they wanted to feel like they made a difference, or wanted to feel better about driving something that got four miles to the gallon or they didn’t recycle.
Some people were there because they actually cared about old, historic buildings.
Lonna was there because she wanted to have faith in the human capacity to bring about change.
And how lovely and naive she was. A north side girl who had no damned right to be here [even though she lived on the southside, she worked on the south side, she knew the people on the south side, and she was nothing like the girls in Lake View except in appearances only, and only then because they paid a lot to look like girls like Lonna Larson], and there she was, holding her ground. And seeming very content to hold her ground even when a good chunk of the people dissipated once they saw someone come up.
A good chunk more, Jessica James included, left when they realized there were intimidating men with softball bats.
Which left Lonna with the following resources: a literature major who looked like he might wet himself, a hefty brunette who was on her cell phone having an argument with her boyfriend, who hadn’t noticed that this was about to be a problem, and a nameless, faceless redhead who seemed to be content to edge away.
“Amateurs,” she sighed with a shake of her head.
It took a second to look at the people near her, a second longer to recognize that it was Jack there, and a second after that she went pale. She went confused, and more importantly, she was kicking herself for the night in the hotel now. And she was trying to think of what to say, precisely.
“Where’d Jesse go?” the lit major asked her.
Lonna swallowed, and being a good girl that she is, and with a little more backbone than one would think she had, she called back “We’re fine, thank you though.”
In her brain, she was screaming words that held no translation.
[Giacomo Castellano] “No I don’t think you-“
That last note is one of dawning realization. He purses his lips shut and frowns away the happy go lucky grin (Because everyone knows you can intimidate far more flies with honey than with vinegar) for a considerably long moment. “Lonna, the fuck are you doing down here?” He knows she works in the area, he knows she thinks she can save the world but it’s still a shock seeing her sitting in with picketers.
The three of them continue to advance the other two on either side and behind Giacomo like archangels who bring only a very local brand of terror. They make the rest of the distance quietly, the larger of his two compatriots, the one Lonna hasn’t met swings his bat in a twirl like some vaudevillian cane until they stop and his wooden instrument too goes up atop his shoulder.
“You and your friends should be clearing out.” Placid, that but leaving no room for discussion in his brown eyes.
He’s not a man who bends.
[Lonna Larson] She had words. Honest, she did. And whatever was going on in her head wasn’t coming out of her mouth or playing more across her face except in that she was trying to process exactly how to say something that wasn’t going to get her legs broke any time soon. It was as much a shock to see her there as it was for her to see him there.
Jesse didn’t say shit about scary men with bats.
People looked to her for orders, because, well, people looked at Lonna when she was somewhere. The lit major heard that he should be clearing out, and soon enough everyone else was gone as well. Gone, and gone quickly. Which left Lonna, left her standing with her arms folded and enough bus fair tucked into a wallet on her keychain to get home.
The blonde took a couple steps away from the building, head cocked to the side and looking at Giacomo Castellano. She looked as though she excepted an answer, but what was worse was that she looked like she knew she wasn’t going to get one.
[Giacomo Castellano] “Squeak.” He calls behind him and it’s not the smaller man but the much larger one, silent and attractive in his own way and built like the broader wall of a pole barn that moves. “Make sure they don’t come back. But hey-” The other turns around four steps out on the sidewalk. “I don’t want cops here in ten minutes. Don’t be a fuckin’ retard.”
“You.” With some contempt to the other behind him with a toss of keys over his shoulder. “Get the car started.” That one too, is off.
Their respective entourages gone this leaves merely Lonna and Jack on the sidewalk in front of the building now perhaps resigned to it’s fate in the dustbin of history. “How y’doin’?” Jack brings about that smile again. “It’s been a few weeks, I missed you.” One could almost throw the words ‘sweetie’ or ‘baby’ at the end of that sentence they way he offers it. The bat is now a leaning post for one hand while one foot kicks over the other in an absurd recreation of the planter’s peanuts jar.
[Lonna Larson] There was no explanation. She looked at him, and the Child of Gaia closed the gap between the two of them. Attire had been something comfortable, but feminine. Long skirt, pullover top, and a belt. Her purse was nowhere in sight; she seemed to be content to picket for the long haul before.. well, before…
She looked at him, and again it was almost like the day after she’d found out about Soledad. She looked at him about has harshly as she could. Which was, of course, to say that it wasn’t very harsh at all. The girl next door, the one who looked like a good Catholic girl, the one that did all the things a bad Catholic girl did, the one who you might bring home to mom and dad if she were Italian [Alas, she wasn’t so she was the kind of girl you told your dad about, who then offered you a cigar and a handshake for bagging that kind of prize]
“What was that all about?” She kept her arms folded. She was adorable when she was upset because she didn’t wear it well. “And please don’t say “nothing” because if it were “nothing” you wouldn’t be showing up with a couple line backers with baseball bats.”
He says he missed her, practically says baby at the end of it, and her posture softened slightly. “I worry about you.”
[Giacomo Castellano] “You let ten people picket and they eventually find ten more and then ten more and if you break up a protest of thirty people the local news shows up,” He’s not looking right at her but rather up at the building with something akin to a frown. “And then the next day it’s a hundred and they block demolition for weeks.”
Back to her. “Thing’s gotta come down, there’s money to be made here.”
She worries she’d responded a moment prior and he picks up the thread with a crooked index finger lifting her chin to look at him. “Don’t. It’s just business.” Business, apparently, with baseball bats. There’s a long sigh, given and he grins. “You’re mad cause I broke up your little picket line?”
[Lonna Larson] And it was almost endearing the way that she looked at him, eyes wide and with a degree of trust that she so desperately wanted to have in him. She looked at him, more frequently now, with an expression that seemed almost lost. He made no sense to her. She didnt’ say anything, he said that this was business.
Lonna knew precisely what business entails. And she didn’t seem too pleased about it.
“I’m mad because you and I have two very different definitions of what real estate and business entail, Jack. I honestly could give two shits about that building, it’s the principle of the matter.”
She sighed, looking back down again, but she dropped her arms to the side and she gave a shrug that was almost helpless or hopeless. “You don’t tell me anything, Jack. And I trust you.”
[Nessa] Baseball bats and people.
Specifically, Baseball bats, huge men and one friend. She missed most of the visually interesting parts, sees rather just Lonna and Jack there on the sidewalk. On her way to grandma’s- No. On her way to her brother’s old apartment, to see if there has been any news–
Hasn’t been so far. But four years of rewarded faith had brought her brother back to her once, and if it takes that long… Actually. It might take that long.
Therefore, a small delay while she does the meet-and-greet and wtf is happening routine won’t likely hurt a thing.
A couple handful of steps later, she joins Lonna’s side, black curls partially concealing her unremarkable face, a tee and jacket hiding whateer she’s got for weaponry on her; only an gullible fool (Sorry Lonna!) would come to Bronzeville without as many armaments as she might fit under cloth. Jeans, Keds. She could, today, be anyone, but she is instead a Shadowlord Kin, with long-lashed eyes glittering with blue interest.
Silent, she says nothing, offers nothing but a smile as she stands beside Lonna.
[Giacomo Castellano] “Ah, jesus.” Jack mutters. “What do you want me to say? I have my hands in a lot of pies. I can’t exactly go around advertising a lot of what it is I do.” He huffs and teaks two steps away, spinning again on the bat to face her so there’s some distance now, a gulf of sectioned concrete between the two of them. “Listen, then bulk of my money comes from real estate, yeah. And maybe here and there I help people with certain things and work around the law to help ’em out.”
He clears his throat. “I got secrets I can’t give you the other end of.” That thick east coast accent comes out gruffly. “And I don’t think I should apologize for that.”
Standing there he shrugs, once, broad shoulders lifting and falling in a gesture to ask ‘what now?’
[Lonna Larson] “I want-” she starts, and then the stops. It’s something close to frustration on her features, but the blonde doesn’t seem to know what to say. She had things to say, but she stopped herself, and stopped short at that when she realized that someone was standing there with her.
Nessa was there, and Lonna exhaled. There it was, somewhere between backbone and discretion. And, for now, Lonna knew that she had to watch her mouth and watch whatever phrases came out shortly thereafter.
“You don’t have to apologize for anything, okay? I just don’t want to screw things up for you, that’s all.”
No condemnation. Nothing of that sort.
[Nessa] He works around the law.
Nessa’s head turns to gaze at the building behind them, to consider the age of the edifice and its value as her brother had told her, as other garou had told her, as a stumbling stone in the way of the Weaver, as an inspiration in the Umbra. Something worth saving, though the details escaped her.
What it meant in effect was that the old stuff was useful in some way. The value of some architecture in Chicago is measured in another world, by beings other than human. However… they didn’t make payments on the real estate, did they?
Was this that sort of really old interesting building? Were the picketing signs worth this place?
What did it have to do with Lonna?
She has questions she doesn’t voice, merely twirls a finger in a twisted lock of hair, and lets her eyes wander.
[Giacomo Castellano] “You aren’t.” Simple enough.
“and you won’t.” Someone else has moved in beside Lonna. “Yo,” Jack offers in the way of a greeting. That though is all she gets, not even another look. Giacomo leans in and whispers something Directly in Miss Larson’s ear, and excuses himself. “Look, he’s wasting gas and I’m trying to watch my carbon footprint,” There’s a short wink there. “I’m gonna take off, we’ll see each other later.”
Beat.
“Promise.”
And then he’s turning while fishing a blackberry from one pocket and calling into it. “Get your ass down to the corner over there and we’ll pick you up. Nope, it’s done. No-” Angrily, “Hey did I ask you for an explanation?” And that’s all they hear of it before he’s climbing into the passenger’s seat of the white rental, which pulls away not fast, not slow.
Not noticeable at all.
[Giacomo Castellano] [Okay guys, out for food, I gots to jet! later! Thanks for RP! :)]
[Maija] She’d left the apartment by 10am, and was supposed to be off by 7. She wasn’t. Apparently tomorrow being the forth of July meant that everyone wanted bbq, and no one wanted to cook it. The small family style restaurant was bursting at the seams all damn day. While it was good for tips, Maija is short on patience when she finally emerged at 8:30. She was, however, a good days worth of tips richer, and her bosses impressed with the effort she put in.
And she didn’t have to serve any Trueborn, any Kin. At least, not that she knew of. This could be a match made in heaven. Where she is now, is at the corner store, exiting with two bags of groceries in her hand. She’s not sure what Wahya likes to eat, but some time ago she promised him dinner. She aims to make good on that promise tonight, despite the fact she smells like bbq sauce and her feet hurt after being on them all damn day.
It’s on the way home that she chooses an alternate route – thinking it’ll be a shorter walk, and instead, walking right into a group of picketers being broken up. Just her luck. Also just her luck that Nation she’s been happy to avoid all day have dropped two of them right in the middle of the walk. Most folks would add ‘at least their just kin’. Maija knows better.
She walks, the bags of groceries hanging from her left hand, her right tucked into the pocket of her jeans. Her t-shirt declares the location of the best. bbq. ever. and is oversized enough to hang down almost to her thighs. She’s wearing a ball cap pulled low, as has become typical since it became too warm for the hoodie. Her steps aren’t slow, nor do they speed up to see Lonna and Nessa down the street. If anything, she’s resigned. If anything, she’s intent simply on walking by and getting home.
[Lonna Larson] She gave him a little wave goodbye, and there was a quiet flush on her cheeks.
The Child of Gaia watched the man leave, a small smile on her face, one that she didn’t realize was there at first, which she wiped away quickly when she realized she was doing it, which returned later when she looked to her side at Nessa. She nodded a little, then opened her mouth to say something.
“Hey, your hair looks great today,” said with a smile. Something content and unobtrusive.
[Nessa] Man has slow reflexes. She’d been there for a part of their conversation before he offers any greeting, which means, given the last couple of meetings, with violence and ‘police’ and BSDs and gunfire and more, with Evan and others.. It Was him, wasn’t it? Castellano. From the first meeting with Whelan and Boyle and the ‘victim’ she’d later outted as a BSD.
Perhaps he might not even recognize her. Or, he simply doesn’t care. Both. Next to Lonna, many women will fade into obscurity, and that is expected. Today, she isn’t dressed to linger in the minds of others. Just the opposite in fact.
He leaves– again– in any case, and Nessa looks up at the building again. “Thank you. Is taking over my head. Hmmm… I am missing something, perhaps, Lonna? Is very special building?”
Down the street a woman approaches, a cap concealing her features. It’s a good technique and is effective; the Shadowlord doesn’t look twice. Not yet at least.
[Maija] Nessa glances her way, and Maija doesn’t slow, she simply keeps walking toward them. If there’s sign of recognition, it’s not overt or obvious. She lets very few things show across her face here on the street, in public, anyway. Few people in Chicago have seen her relaxed. Most of them are gone.
One wonders if it’s a coincidence…
[Lonna Larson] “It’s just another building,” she said with a shrug. “Chicago is full of them. If it mattered, it’s still somewhere.”
She said to Nessa with a slight smile. Something content and almost pleased. She let her arms fold across her chest, and then she started to head off towards the nearest bus stop. She walked with Nessa, though, content to go forward. Lonna had never met Maija on good terms. They’d spoken, yes, and those words had not been nice. and she was very content to keep her face covered. The Child of Gaia passed on by quite easily, not quite noticing her.
[Nessa] Settles that.
“That man. Boyfriend? You seem suddenly like cat who licked cream, da?” Her smile is disarming enough, and her curiosity not concealed.
Shadowlords are by nature, nosy.
Closer. Alright, under that cap there is someone familiar, and brave. Both herself and Maija have lived at the Brotherhood, though Nessa;’s belongings are now absent the building, met several times and so far, there is no reason to ignore the woman, and several to mark her passing.
“Privyet, Maija.”
[Maija] If she knew Lonna still held the conversations previously had against her, it’s hard to tell what her reaction would be – she stands by the point that she was right, but the treehugger just couldn’t seem to see it. She’d tried, and it had been like talking to a wall. She’s not inclined to try again.
If she knew Nessa considered her brave, she’d possibly be amused, knowing that it is so far from the truth so as to be laughable. She is far from brave. She left the brotherhood at least because she could not handle the stress. She is tense even now, despite the fact that she’s a block from home. It may have something to do with the Trueborn in her living room – it may be just how she is wired. But she is not brave.
Lonna doesn’t look twice, and Nessa says hello, and for Maija’s part, she simply nods slightly. “Hey.”
[Lonna Larson] (skip me, loves, phone call)
[Nessa] Maija always looks tense. Especially when BSDs are around and peopel need stabbing. Now, too, for that matter.
Maybe, if Nessa knew that the other kin were at an impasse, she would not seek to– wait. No, one can feel it, can’t one?
The Russian looks up and down the street to make sure that no one is about to attack them, no one arresting, no one shooting, or eating any of them in the next few moments. Looks fine!
“Ahh I see is relatively peaceful tonight. Nice change, da? Last few times, has been… hairy.”
Literally!
[Maija] Nessa says something again, continues conversation, so Maija actually stops. She shifts her hold on her grocery bags, slightly, just rolling the handles farther into her palms, and watches the street a moment. She brings her attention back to Nessa, and there’s no answering smile, no amusement at her statement, literal as it may be.
Maija’s not one to show her feelings, ever. Instead, she just nods, again. “So far. S’early yet.”
[Nessa] “You are well where you are now? I saw you had moved out of Brotherhood. I just did too. Is good intermediate place, but ahh.. privacy is nice too. Are you available to be contacted where you are? Cell phone or something?”
There is something familiar about Maija. Pulls at her conscience just a little, makes her take an extra step of if not conviviality, a sort of helpfulness then.
[Maija] She slides her hand from her pocket. and rubs the back of it along her jaw, lightly, before tugging her hat down more firmly. She isn’t quite sure how to answer at first, it seems, as she looks down the block again. Lonna is silent, either having stopped with Nessa, or continued on a ways without her. Maija studies her a moment, then looks back to Nessa.
Finally, she replies. “Ain’t gotta phone.”
[Lonna Larson] For now, Lonna is content to stand still. She is content to stand stark and straight and to take care of her own needs and wants and aspirations. She keeps her mouth shut, and then? She looked at Maija for a moment and then the following came out
“Do you need one?” with the clear implication that she could help if need be.
[Nessa] Hmm. “Da– all of us shuold have way to get help quickly, to be contacted. Is too dangerous here otherwise. Here…” She pulls out a card of her own, with only a phone number on it. “I come across many things which can find new homes in my work. Is no real trouble, if something is needed, or wanted.”
She shrugs, maybe a touch diffident, as she offers a way to be contacted to the action-ready kinfolk.
[Maija] She shakes her head, slightly. “Ain’t got th’cash. Ain’t no big thing.” As she told Decker last night, aside from the stress of living in the brotherhood, and what it was doing to her sanity – and not slowly either – she ain’t like to have other folks pay her way, for anything.
Nessa pulls out her card, and she takes it and tucks it away, but only so she has the number, or if someone needs it. “I’ll keep that in mind, if I come cross someone what needs somethin.”
And the fewer people that can contact her quickly, the more comfortable she’ll be.
[Nessa] “As you wish, Maija. Careful, da?” She lets the kin go her own way, keeping her opinions of solitude to herself.
(brb)
[Nessa] (gonna go to bed i think, early night! thanks for scene!)
to Maija
[Maija] She glances at Lonna again, and then just nods as dark eyes flit over to Nessa, than down the street once more. “Yeah, alright.”
She is sure they have their opinions, formed over the few interactions, and cemented by the fact that she doesn’t like to accept help – she insists on paying her own way. That and her belief that help from the nation only comes with massive strings attached.
She finally just turns, and starts to walk once again, unless one or the other of them stops her again.
[Maija] (Night Share.)
to Nessa