[Andrew] Squatters. The technical term for people who live in places that aren’t theirs. Usually illegally. Often in piles of refuse using paint buckets as toilets and oddly enough, unplugged refridgerators as… refridgerators… Not that they were plugged in. Right now he was squatting in a run down house somewhere in Bronzeville. With the wave of foreclosures in the area it wasn’t surprising to find places sitting abandoned. This one hadn’t been moved into permanently by anyone, yet. So he was able to be relatively alone in the dusty home with scratched hardwood floors. He sat in what was once the dining room. His back pressed into a corner against the yellow sunfaded walls.
The front steps were concrete and the bottom one had crumbled so badly it looked outright dangerous. None of the doors or windows were suspiciously ajar, but none of them were locked either. Aside from the realtor’s lock hanging on the doorknob. But really, those were simply a nuisance.
[Joss Lehrer] Find Andrew, he said. Check him out, he said. Get a read on him, he said.
Oh. My. Tired. Feet – she said.
Sure, she could have taken public transportation, and she had for the first month she was here almost exclusively, but bus drivers aren’t keen on starting, stopping and turning following the whims of a little golden stone on a little string. And Taxi’s are expensive, so that left the oldest form of public transportation – her own two feet.
That’s not to say she’s out of shape, or really that tired, or even bitching that much – but it HAS been a really long damn walk, and if not for the insistent tug of that damn Questing stone, she would have stopped at that last bus stop and gone the hell home, to try again tomorrow. The stone though, it has different ideas – it suddenly tugs toward the left, and she rounds the corner, and trips right over a trashcan, sending it and it’s contents flying in a cacophony of noise while she stumbles – and barely stays on her feet.
and mutters… “Graceful, Joss. Really. Oh what IS that, that’s GROSS…” she pauses and scrapes the gunk off the bottom of her shoe across the edge of the curb.
[Andrew] He was muttering to himself. Or to something else, really. He’d tried to awaken the house. It was huge, and old, and very… very grumpy. So he was giving it a rest for a while. The floorboards were marred where a little pile of various leaves had been used for incense. Stones were piled around in a little circle. A surplus military canteen of water sat next to him and the wood was still wet in a circle he’d drawn with the water. Smoke hung around the ceiling and though soothing, the smoke was burning his nose a bit.
The cacophony just down the street made him sit up a little straighter. Humands made so much damned noise for fuck’s sake. With a few fingers he carefully pried the sash of the window up a bit. A cool breeze flowed in and he closed his eyes a moment and enjoyed it. Then refocused on peering out one of the front windows of the little unlit house. Sniffing.
[Imogen] “Looking for someone?”
Imogen stands at the mouth of an alleyway, holding a heavy duty garbage bag full of something … unmentionable in a latex gloved hand. The smell of blood is only slightly muted by the layer of plastic.
Her eyes move briefly to the stone hanging from Joss’s string, then lower to the gunk on her foot. Then up again without comment.
After all, she had just been leaning into a dumpster. She’s not one to judge.
[Joss Lehrer] She blinks and looks up, and the Godi that Smiles, does just that – smiles, warm and happily as if Imogen is the best possible person in her world, and she simply likes to talk to her. Which, oddly enough, is true.
“Yeah – and not whatever it is I just got all over my shoe – because it is SERIOUSLY GROSS.” She makes a face, and then chuckles as the string tugs again. “Think I’m close finally – looking for Andrew.”
She tips her head, and adjusts her godi bag to fall behind her hip, tugging at the strap that crosses diagonal across her body to set it more comfortably. “How about you?”
[Imogen] The redhead woman is dressed in jeans, a loose cotton shirt beneath a corduroy jacket. At Joss’s question, the doctor’s mouth quirks, a mirthless smirk as she lifts the garbage bag, its contents sloshing. “Already found it,” she says, her tone just on the right side of wry.
Her Volvo is parked a few feet away, so generic that even having been in it, Joss was not likely to have recognized it off the bat. This is deliberate – a cheap car, nothing flashy, sharply contrasted by her more intense Aston martni.
She removes her keys from her coat pocket, her hands still gloved as she walks around to the trunk of the car, popping it up.
“Rohl said yeh wanted to know if I’d had anymore dreams,” she says, off-hand as she leans in, putting the contents in a far corner of her trunk, then removes her gloves to seal them in plastic. She turns her head slightly, inhaling at the collar of her coat, and her mouth twisting in an expression of distaste, strips the coat from her body. Joss has not seen Imogen fight, but it perhaps does not surprise her to see the hard weight of a gun at the small of the Kinwoman’s back. She balls the coat up and tosses into the trunk as well, before tugging a small gym bag toward her and unzipping it to retrieve a dark blue blazer.
Never say she does not come prepared.
The blazer’s purpose is hardly for warmth, but it conceals her weapon as she shrugs into it, readjusting it over her body.
“I haven’t.”
[Joss Lehrer] Ah, the Volvo, the same one she drove home after the bonfire, because Decker wouldn’t risk his baby in the hands of a prankster godi… but she has plans, oh yes, she does – but that’s for another time. She blinks, and then moves toward the Volvo with Imogen. She is unsurprised by the gun, or the fact that Imogen has come prepared. With the job she does, and the experience at it, one could hardly fault her. IN the times they’ve come upon each other out of the blue – it can be counted on one hand those that didn’t involve anything truly disgusting.
“Good. We’re having a meet n greet about all that, and wanted to be sure the cleansing stopped it.”
The string tugs again toward the house where Andrew watches from the window, unseen, and Joss tuck it away into her pocket, taking the time to smooth down her sweater and skidts, to make sure she’s presentable. A representative of the Eagles – they can’t all look like thugs, right? Right.
Back to the dreams. “Seems there’s a whole rash of them around the city. If you hear of anyone else through the grapevine, would you let me know?”
[Imogen] The kin’s dark eyes move toward the house that the stone had been tugging toward, her eyes touching upon the windows, the patina of neglect, the tired and worn wood. She turns back to look at the young Godi.
“I don’t imagine I will,” she says, simply. “But should someone mention anythin’ t’me I’ll be sure t’pass it on.”
A flick of her eyes back toward the house. “He’s in there, is he?” she says with a lift of her chin.
[Joss Lehrer] “For the record,” she adds after a moment. “I kept your name out of it.” It’s been clear since the beginning that Imogen isn’t one who appreciates folks talking tales out of school, and likely has her reasons for not wanting to be involved. Respect for Imogen demands respect for her wishes, and Joss – fan-girl extraordinaire who can finally talk to the former Fianna without seeming like a total dork with shiny eyes begging for an autograph – understands it on some level. And even in saying what she does, she doesn’t expect a response, or thanks – it just seemed the right thing to do.
She looks over at the house, and chuckles. “So it would seem.” and raises her voice. “ANDREW! Hey! Andrew!” because subtlety is not exactly Joss’ strong suit. And knocking is SO boring.
He’s a Theurge. No telling what kinda traps are on that walk to the door, anyway.
[Andrew] His eyes flick around the streets. Some women on the corner by the garbage cans. Talking. Probably neighbors. Or drug dealers. Or hookers. Who knows. His eyes turn back into the house. Lifting himself up he crawls forward on his hands and knees to the pile of smoking ashes in the middle of the room. With his hand he reaches out and stirs them a bit. Mixing them up. Some flare up a new. Some finally go out. He douses a little water from the canteen on them. Stirs them again so they’re fully out. He’s going to leave some mess, that’s for sure.
Then he reaches over and pulls his military surplus pack over to him. Digging around in one compartment and pulling out little twigs and leaves. Wrapped up in a piece of leather. He starts stacking the twigs into a little teepee. Putting down kindling around the base. Like building a little cone on a cloud of fluffy woodshavings.
With a grunt, he pushes back from the little circle into the corner again. His hand goes over to a little boombox he rescued from a dumpster. One so old it still accepted tapes. And CD’s. Stealing batteries was the only way to go in a house with no electricity. He was about to turn it on when he hears yelling. And his name. Fuck’s sake.
He turns his head to the window, opens it a little wider, and growls out, “Quit’yer shoutin’.”
[Imogen] Joss says she kept her name out of it. There are several seconds of pause from the red-haired kinwoman, her regard even, her expression controlled. The corner of her mouth tightens, then eases.
“I appreciate it,” she says, though Joss hadn’t been looking for gratitude and Imogen is not the type to give it freely.
Joss starts hollering at the house. Imogen’s eyes move from her to the shambling edifice and back again. As Andrew pokes his head out to growl his demand downward toward the street, the doctor lights a cigarette, leaning back against the trunk of her car.
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs softly as she gets a response from the guy in the house – and simply calls back. “Then come outside.” and as added incentive. “Decker sent me.”
Imogen lights a cigarette and leans on the trunk of her car, and Joss tucks her hands into the pockets of her skirts and waits. From the looks of it, she has no problem waiting him out, and likely will just follow if he leaves – might just be easier to see what she wants, hm?
“You know him at all?” a tip of her head toward the window, and Andrew.
[Andrew] He grumbles mildly to himself. Come on out. Where’s it raining. Or was. Silly girl. He rises to his feet. Slinks past the windows and opens the door from the inside. The heavy realtor’s lock hanging on the nob clanks and bangs against the wooden door. He stares out at her for a moment. Then at the woman next to her. Turning back toward the house.
“Get in here.” And he wanders back into the shadows of the house.
[Imogen] “Vaguely,” Imogen says as she lowers her cigarette, turning her head to exhale blue-grey smoke. The sun is slanting and setting, the shadows long, a cool pallor beginning to fall over Bronzeville.
“I recall he fights well,” she looks up, casting a glance toward Godi, “S’about it.”
Andrew’s form darkens the doorway, orders Joss inside. Imogen takes another drag of her cigarette.
[Joss Lehrer] She arches a brow, slightly, at the order, and then mutters. “of all the…”
She really had no intention of going inside, not with Imogen nearby. Not that Imogen needs her protection at all, because she holds her own just fine thank you very much but simply because she likes the older woman’s company.
She nods at what Imogen remembers, and then turns toward the walk. “You’re welcome to join me if you like.” Orders is orders, right? And by that, she means her Alpha’s – not Andrews.
[Imogen] The Kinwoman shakes her head slightly. “Have fun,” she says, with a little irony.
She watches Joss as she heads her way up the walk. As the Godi steps into the doorway, she takes another drag of her cigarette before dropping it to the ground, crushing it out beneath her shoe. She straightens from her lean, the muscles in her core tensing as she does so without a hand for balance. As the door shuts behind Joss and Andrew (one presumes) Imogen is walking around to the driver’s side door of her car, opening it to get inside.
[Andrew] After a few moments pass, he reappears at the door. Frowning at Joss. Then at Imogen. Taking a few tentative steps out onto the little concrete porch of the place he stares up at the sky. Not raining again. Not yet. He looks around. Ground still wet. It’d rain more. Until it stopped. Then it would stop. And then he’d go home. Behind him in the doorway, smoke curls up from the top of the door and escapes in torn clouds into the air. Hell, the upper few inches of the inside of the house must have been smokey.
The fresh air smells nice. Maybe he should go outside. Hmmm… He hops down the few steps and meets Joss halfway along the walk. Eyeing her. A little irritably. Glancing once past her to Imogen, then back to the woman. “What?”
[Joss Lehrer] She chuckles softly at Imogen’s comment. “Always.” Even though it’s not entirely true.
Halfway up the walk, though, he appears and comes down to meet her, so she stops, and angles herself to watch the kinwoman get into her car, as well as the other Garou. Her voice is pitched low, as she speaks, so as not to set off any prying ears that may be – but likely aren’t – nearby.
“I’m Joss Lehrer – Gossomer Wing – Fostern Godi.” Then, back to conversational tones. “I run with Decker, and he sent me to meet with you.” So quit being an asshat.
[Imogen] She gets into the car, the engine catches, mercifully, on the first try. With that, the once-Fianna pulls away from the curb, heading off to deal with the grisly contents of her trunk. She does not wave or offer any hint of farewell.
At the next lights, which sports only flashing red lights because no one can be bothered to reprogram the intersection, she takes a turn, heading sharply toward the lake.
[Imogen] (thanks for the scene, guys!)
[Andrew] His t-shirt, black, with white letter, aptly says ‘stop staring at my tits’. It must have at one time been a baby doll t-shirt with a low neck and should lines. But it has now turned into a form fitting white trash t-shirt on him. His cargo pants hang low full of… who knows. But the pockets are pouched out a bit.
He glances past Joss to Imogen. Then back to Joss. “Coupla of you.” He obviously recognizes the red mane of the woman Decker usually arrives with. His mate. They’re good for sex. He eyes her critically for a few seconds, then grunts and turns back towards the house. “Fine. Get in here. I don’t know all your terms for what you are. Speak plain.”
[Joss Lehrer] “Nope. Chance meeting.” That’s the only thing she says to explain Imogen’s presence, while watching her turn the corner in the Volvo. Only then does she follow Andrew inside. If she has any reaction to his shirt, it doesn’t show. Instead, she simply follows him.
She doesn’t ‘speak plain’ until they’re inside, and presumably private. “Godi is the Fenrir word for Theurge.”
[Andrew] “Well speak english. I spent a long time learning it.” He leads her back into the house. Down a dusty hallway with empty squares on the wallpaper where pictures must have hung for a long time to the living room he was in before. A boombox lays on the floor against the wall. Smoke still lingers around the celing smelling of herbs and incense. A little circle of rocks is placed on the floor with a ring of water inside that and then a ring of ash and the little teepee on a cloud of tinder he made. He goes back to his corner and squats down.
“I’m Dances on Fire. Fostern Theurge Gaia Child. What’s Decker want?”
[Joss Lehrer] She follows him, and moves no farther into the room than the little fire made in the middle of the room. She watches him go to his corner, and sinks to a crouch, smoothing her skirts over her knees as she does so. Ass to heels, she wraps her arms around her legs comfortably, and watches Andrew. “It’s nice to meet you.”
As for what Decker wants… “He just told me I should get to know you. Hear you tried out for the Eagles once before – what happened?”
[Andrew] He shrugs. “Left for a while.” He eyes the little pile of herbs in the center of the room. Considering. He doesn’t seem all that concerned about it. Wants to get to know him. What’s there to know? He’s the feral. He’s not well liked. He’s been packless since he got to Chicago. Never joined anyone. Comes and goes as he pleases.
“What’s this get to know me?” Looking at her and tilting his head.
[Joss Lehrer] She arches a brow. “That’s why you didn’t make the Eagles?” There is more to the story there, or so it was insinuated, but she lets him tell it as he wants.
She chuckles, and shrugs. “Just that. Meet, talk, maybe fight toge..” light bulb moment
“Wait, we fought together in Chinatown. With Marcus. The face-stealers, right? You divebombed off the second story, if I remember right…” She chuckles and nods. “That was a hell of an awesome move, dude.”
[Andrew] “I guess.” He shrugs again. Leans to one side and lifts the window open a little wider. Letting more of a cool breeze into the stuffy incense laden room. He takes a few deep breathes of the air and lets out a contented sigh. “I don’t know. Why didn’t I get in?”
Looking at her. Rather directly. His head tilted to one side, curiously. And then he lets out a little grunting snort that might be a laugh. A very Decker-ish laugh. She’s surely familiar with them. “Yes. Dove off roof. Was fun.”
[Joss Lehrer] “You’d know better than me, Andrew. I wasn’t even in Chicago yet, let alone an Eagle.” She laughs and shrugs again. “Rumor has it you’ve never even tried to pack here in town, but for the Eagles. Why’s that?” He wanted her to talk plain, and that’s exactly what she does.
He indicates that dive as fun, and nods, chuckling. “I’ll bet. I once stood over folks and protected them while taking balefire from a giant green dragon thing. Given my druthers, I’d rather dive off a roof.”
[Andrew] His head tilts the other way. And he sighs and leans back into the corner. Staring at her for a few moments. Then down at the little once-fire in the middle of the room. “Never been asked.” Maybe it’s that simple. Maybe not. Who knows. He wasn’t a pontificator.
But his eyes lift at the mention of a green dragon thing. That sounds interesting. “Green Dragon? Sounds fun.” A certain glint in his eye at the prospect.
[Joss Lehrer] “Why not? Why do they have to ask you? You asked to be considered as Eagle before, did you not?” A curious girl, Joss – she always has questions, and every answer breeds more.
“Yeah, was like WAY under this house thing – bunch of us were drawn too and went down and they were calling this dragon thing. There was like 3 or 4 Spirals, and then the sacrifice dude, and then the Dragon. And the tunnel collapsed and we had to dig our way out and all.” If there was any doubt she was Fenrir? It’s gone now. “It was awesome.”
[Andrew] He thinks about it for a while. Listening to her little story about the dragon. How awesome it was. He nods a bit. “Would be fun.” A couple BSD’s. A dragon. A sacrifice. He hasn’t seen action like that in a while. He lets out a wistful sigh and stares at the little once-fire. “I knew some of them. Decker is the biggest badass around. Sometimes you need protection. And people said, I need a pack. So I did. But then I left.”
[Joss Lehrer] “He is that.” Her smile is warm, content. happy – and it always reaches her eyes too. She’s genuinely content (THRILLED) to be packed with the Eagles. “They all are. James and I are buds from a ways back – got me drunk when the Eagles would visit back home – and Evan’s pretty cool too. You know him too, I take it?”
She rests her chin atop her hands, and studies him. “People said you need a pack – do YOU think you need a pack?”
[Andrew] “Don’t know Evan. Heard of him. Met James. Got Decker an axe. He’s teaching me to make things.” Grunting softly and shrugging again. “Is nice for not getting jumped by other packs. Fucked another’s kin once. They jumped me.” He grins in a disturbingly feral manner. The grin of a wolf descending on it’s helpless prey. “I whooped their alpha good at the moot.” Grumbling. “Stupid Fianna.”
[Joss Lehrer] “I believe he’s the Child of Gaia elder – you should probably meet him.”
She snorts, chuckling. “Poaching kin? Not a good idea. Always better to get one of your own.” Wise words for a girl who just barely turned 18, right?
“Is that the only reason you’d want a pack?” It’s not usual for wolves to run alone, after all, though she doesn’t lead him toward any answer, merely listens to what he chooses to say.
[Andrew] He looks at her. Grunts. “I’m the Gaia Child Elder. Unless things have changed. Guess we see.” He shrugs again. And grins. “No one else wanted her. But their problem. I heal.”
His hand slides over his chest and idly itches something under it. “Protection. Packs are for protection. For hunting. Killing bigger than you can alone. Guess that means Wyrm things now. Anything I want to eat, I can now.” Shrugging.
[snail] (*smacks rage upside the head*
1. a loooong time ago, Andrew asked to pack with the Eagles. he didn’t really make it past prospectives, and i think around then the system-death occurred and it was basically left by the wayside.
2. he made Decker a spirit-phone, not an AXE.)
to Andrew, Joss Lehrer
[Andrew] (Oh right. Lols. :P)
to Joss Lehrer, snail
[Joss Lehrer] She chuckles and gestures. “You haven’t been around. They supposed to wander without leadership while you’re bangin other tribe’s kinfolk across the nation? If you leave, you cannot expect things to remain passively awaiting for your return.”
She nods. “So, for protection – both from others of the Sept, and hunting Wyrm.” She pauses, and looks at him for a moment. “Other then trying out for the Eagles – have you ever been in a pack?”
[Andrew] He shrugs. “Sounds right. Can’t go without leadership.” Which was sort of what he was all about. A lack of leadership. He really had none. No talent for it. He stares into the not-fire and considers it. Staring through it like a portal. “Once. When I was still full-wolf. When I changed they got more and more afraid of me. Started to drift away.” His eyes lift. And he shrugs. “Then I joined the nation.”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, slightly, and falls quiet for a while. “So you’ve never followed a Totem with those of the Nation. It’s different than being on your own, and would be quite a change for you, I think. It wouldn’t be easy at all – you’re used to going your own way, to answering only to yourself. In a pack, any pack, you would be forced to work as a team, to follow an alpha’s directives, to often do as you’re told, even if you don’t want too. To be Omega Wolf is not an easy path, but a rewarding one, filled with learning. To follow a totem demands obedience to the spirits that hold us together. To follow another’s lead when used to leading yourself is not always an easy path to follow – and sometimes, the pack you petition is found to not be the right place, and you start all over again with another.”
She tips her head, slightly, watching him. “So the question is, Dances on Fire – are you ready to take such a challenge?”
[Andrew] He grunts and rolls his eyes as she goes through her shpiel. Follow directives. Loyalties not his own. Obedience to spirits. Omega wolf. He finally lets out a snort.
He rises to his feet and begins pacing around the fire. Slow loping steps. Like a caged animal. Barefeet adding to the footprints in the dust of the house. The ones that already exist around the little fire. “What makes you think I don’t have these things already? Orders from higher rank. Loyalties from others. Spirits to obey. To command. Being Omega Wolf?” Another snort.
[Joss Lehrer] She arches a brow and looks around. “Fair enough. Where’s your pack?”
[Andrew] Chuckling softly. “I don’t have to follow an Adren’s orders? I don’t owe things to other Garou? I don’t have spirits I follow. Deal with?”
[Joss Lehrer] “On a larger scale, yes. But we’re talking pack here. Though I think you’ve answered my questions well enough for now.”
She stands and stretches, spine cracking as she smiles. “By the way. I’m also the Sept Theurge Elder. I’ve called a meeting at the Caern. There’s some funky things going around, and I need every Theurge on hand to help put forth ideas to the War Leader – Marrick – and get this pesky problem taken care of. I trust you’ll be there?
[Andrew] He raises one eyebrow. Nods a bit and goes back to his corner. Squatting down onto the floor again, butt to heels. “I heard. The bat you sent nearly died. It didn’t know it’d have to fly half-way to Wyoming to find me when it came.”
[Joss Lehrer] She chuckles. “I trust you treated him well, then, and helped him recover.”
She nods, and adjusts the strap across her torso with a tug. “I’ll see you at the meeting then, if not before. I’ve patrols to run. Have a good evening, Andrew.”
[Andrew] He nods a bit. “Let me know if you need help on patrol.” He pulls a little zippo out of his pack and starts towards the pile of herbs and kindling. “He was fine. Now I’m going to awaken this house.”
[Joss Lehrer] “Of course. It’s a nice old house.” She touches the wall, and smiles, then makes her way to the door. “Goodnight, Andrew.”
And with that, she lets herself outside, and starts the walk toward the bus stop. She walked all the way here – no way in hell is she gonna walk back home.
[Andrew] He grunts as a form of goodbye and flicks the zippo. Setting light to the little pile of kindling.