[Joss Lehrer] She can feel the rain in the air… it hangs thick and tingles across her senses, leaving her alive with anticipation. She loves the feel of it, the promise that at some point in the near future, the streets will be swept clean under a deluge of water, the grime and grit pounded away, chased by drop after drop, beating it into submission. She’s been following the scent, the feeling, hoping to be caught in the next downpour…
Why?
Why not.
She is Godi. And she is weird.
It should be noted that she is already damp, her dreads clinging to her shoulders, hanging heavily and dripping against her skin, her white tank top almost transparent in places, her sweater tied round her waist, and even her skirts are still damp as she wanders. It’s as if a while ago she may have showered completely clothed, except that her shoes are dry – and also held in her hands as she walks barefoot down the sidewalk. Hanging from the strap that discects her torso, her messanger bag bulging with all sort of oddities is likewise dry, and hanging at her hip, jingling slightly as she moves.
Her blue eyes sparkle with some hidden delight, some mischief or another, some inner glow of content happiness that she always seems to carry with her, everywhere she goes.
[Imogen] “Be careful.” Imogen stands in the alcove of a building, her hand cupping around her zippo as she flicks the flame to life. Her words are muffled by the filter between her lips. “Yeh never know what yeh might step in.”
A pointed glance toward Joss’s feet. The flame flickers out without quite catching the tip of her cigarette. She thumbs it again with a snick and this time, lights the fag successfully. A deep drag on her cigarette, a long inhale. She puts her zippo back into her purse and turns her head slightly to exhale smoke away from Joss, before stepping out of the alcove.
Her attire is dry, a navy blue suit with a pale cream blouse beneath, a pair of black pumps which click softly on the sidewalk as she moves. In one hand swings an umbrella, the strap looped around her wrist. She carries a purse over her shoulder. The vibrancy of her hair contrasts sharply with the dark sombreness of her suit, the colour of her hair so red that it is almost violent in its intensity.
All in all, she and Joss have very little in common.
“Got caught in th’rain, did yeh?”
[Joss Lehrer] Be careful, she’s cautioned, and that brings soft laughter that finds it’s way past her lips, falling free and easy in the way of someone who indulges in such expressions often. She turns toward the little alcove and watches Imogen light her cigarette, and step her way.
“It’s a more dangerous walk in the Green than here, with regards of stepping in stuff.” Though it could be mentioned that she’s stepped in far worse things than one would normally find on an everyday sidewalk. So has Imogen, for that matter. It’s one of the little things they have in common.
She looks down at herself, almost sheepish for a moment, because… “Not exactly. They turned on the fountains in the park, and the kids were playing and squealing and screaming and having fun, and well.”
Yes. The 18 year old Fostern Godi spent her afternoon playing in the giant water fountains in Grant Park, with kids of all ages, and even a parent or two – which others, most certainly looked on with disapproval and disdain. She shrugs, and wrinkles her nose briefly, and then just grins. “It was fun.”
[Imogen] Imogen’s eyebrow quirks slightly. “Scared off some of the children, I shouldn’t wonder.” Cheerful though she is, young though she is, Joss is still Garou. Her rage outweighs the strength of most humans; the Curse effects everyone, no matter how cheerful or polite.
She taps cigarette ash toward the ground and takes another drag, one hand lifting to push hair from her eyes.
[Joss Lehrer] She lifts a shoulder slightly. “Some things are inevitable – I stayed away form the youngest of them.” She grins again, laughing, because even that couldn’t deminish her joy in her afternoon.
“There weren’t too many folks there as it had been raining off and on, but it was worth it. I think I’ll go back on the otherside, sometime, to meet the spirits nearby. It was just such a…” she laughs, sheepish again for a moment. “Happy place. There aren’t many of those around anymore, where you can just let go and enjoy something so simple as splashing in puddles.”
She lifts her hands and pushes back her dreads, lifting them briefly than dropping them between her shoulder blades. “I know people” likely including Imogen, and Decker, too. She knows Evan does.. “think I’m weird, but I think sometimes? It’s ok to be a little silly, and remember to enjoy the simple things.”
[Imogen] She arches an eyebrow slightly, “Is that a suggestion to improve my disposition?” A trace of a smirk quirks her mouth. She is not offended.
[Joss Lehrer] Imogen is not offended – which is good, because for half a second, Joss starts to stutter, then catches that trace and smiles brightly instead.
“Of course not. There is nothing wrong with your deposition – and I think that if you were to start splashing in puddles, half of those who have met you? Would die of shock.” A tip of her head. “though that WOULD be kind of amusing…”
No doubt, as good-natured as the Godi is, there are some that she wouldn’t mind seeing shocked for a bit.
[Imogen] Imogen’s mouth quirks slightly, tapping cigarette ash before lifting it to her mouth again.
“In that case, let me know should yeh find the city over populated. I’ll do my bit t’lighten the load.”
[Joss Lehrer] “Excellent idea! I’ll do that!”
She laughs lightly, and then drops her shoes on the sidewalk, and slips her feet back into them, before tucking her hands into her pockets. “So, how’s the day treating you, then? Better than last night?”
[Imogen] Overhead, rain begins to fall. Imogen glances up as the first few drops drip down, then fits her cigarette into her mouth, freeing her hand to undo her umbrella. She thumbs it open and lifts it over her head with a practised swing. Joss is not offered a place beneath, but perhaps the girl’s water logged appearance suggests that she won’t mind.
“Ha’ I been called by any badly mangled Garou t’clean up their mess t’day, you mean? Not yet,” a brief glance toward her watch as the rain begins to pick up. The gesture is for theatrics. “I still ha’ a few hours yet.”
She lifts her hand to her mouth, picking her cigarette free of her lips as she exhales smoke into the heavy, water logged air.
[Joss Lehrer] It starts to rain again, and Joss sighs contentedly, closing her eyes and turning her face to the sky. Imogen opens her umbrella, but it’s clear to her that Joss doesn’t mind. She played in a fountain, in public, for gaia’s sake.
She shakes her head vigorously, and then smooths back her dreads, and chuckles as she looks at her companion. “True. It’s early. He called me kid. Told me I did a good job for a ‘kid’.” Insert a very teenage roll of her eyes, right there. “Suspect his Alpha nattered a bit about me at some point.” That smile? Is entirely impish, filled with mischief, which hides her dislike of said alpha easily enough.
Slight shift of topic… “How long have you had” taps her temple, totemphone, presumably. “I’ve never known a kinfolk that does it. Is it terribly intrusive for you?” Curiosity at it’s best.
[Imogen] A brief pause. “Not long this time ’round,” she says, her fingers moving slightly, the fingers that hold her cigarette drawing closer to her palm. There is a fine thread of broken skin there, so far unhealed, but barely more than a mark. “I’ve had it off ‘nd on through out the years.
“I find it – ” a pause, “distracting, t’say th’least. Though not so bad as it once was.”
[Joss Lehrer] Her gaze falls to the mark on the fingertips, and back up again. “How often does it have to be renewed? It’s not a rite I’ve ever tried, myself.” To her credit, she doesn’t ask if it hurts to have it done – one would imagine it does. But Imogen is likely the toughest woman she’s ever met in her life, a small thing like that is likely but a brief and unmentionable sting. Right? Right.
She nods, slightly, chuckling. “I can imagine it would be distracting. It’s bad enough sometimes for us, and we use it all the time. But it comes in handy, I suppose. In times that you don’t have it, and because I can’t remember – I gave you my cell number, right? In case any other walking breach and clean ups happen, and all.”
[Imogen] “Once or twice a week,” she replies, her mouth twisting slightly. “It lapses more than it’s active.”
One imagines Imogen does not find cause to complain about that.
Imogen shakes her head slightly once more fitting her cigarette between her lips so she can swing her purse free of her arm and open it one-handed, reaching for her cell phone. “I don’t imagine I’ll call yeh often,” a glance, tinted with wryness. “Fer the most part, injured Garou are on their own.”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, and chuckles. “Of course – but who knows, you might want to dance in the water fountains sometime and need company. The number’s 555-0979.”
Some things mark her as distinctly teenager – her cell phone is one of them – with all it’s bedazzled pink sparkly glory. She doesn’t pull it out though, unless Imogen offers her number in return.
[Imogen] The phone beeps softly as she navigates to the address book and puts Joss’s number in, glancing up. “Want mine, do you? Or if yeh need it, I imagine Rohl can give it t’yeh.”
[Joss Lehrer] She grins. “I promise I won’t send you annoying text messages about cute boys.” She pulls her bag around to the front, and digs in briefly, pulling out said pink and sparkly cell phone. It’s almost glaringly at odds with her typical earth tones that she wears. The only thing more shockingly girly is her diary – but no one knows about that.
She flips through the screens with the ease and quickness of one who uses her phone on a daily basis.
[Imogen] Imogen eyes the phone, for several seconds before simply offering her cell number with its Chicago area code.
By now, the rain has picked up, on its way to a torrential downpour. “Alright,” she says, lifting her finished cigarette to her mouth for one last drag. “I’m off t’find a way out o’ th’rain.”
A brief nod, as she drops the cigarette, letting it extinguish out against the damp concrete. “Ha’ a good night.”
[Joss Lehrer] She keys in the number, and then tucks the phone back into her bag with a smile. “Take care, Imogen.”
She, of course, isn’t going to get out of the rain. Instead, she lifts a hand in a wave, and than turns toward the ‘Green, and heads that way.