[Marrick Fisher] (is she okay today?)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Marrick Fisher] It weirded Wendy out when she made talens. Namely, because the Fury locked herself in a bathroom and refused to come out for hours upon hours at a time. It was bizarre, because despite that fact, it was very much a teenaged girl moment. Girls spent hours in the bathroom primping and focusing and pouring ritualistic focus into things.
That, however, was not what Marrick was doing. It weirded Wendy, and to a lesser extent probably Boy, out because by the time she was done, the bathtub was a bloody, muddy, awful mess and the air smelled like inspiration and spirituality and something. And left the Fury pale and satisfied.
So, to save them all the problem of cleaning out a bloody bathtub, the Fury was, instead, working on bloody bandages at the caern. Her sleeves were pushed up and supplies laid out in front of her. The air was cold, frigid even. She had yet to leave her breed form, and had little intention on doing so. She, instead, was focused on what she was doing.
Now, all she had to do was get her brain together long enough to go track down some leech spirits.
“Gotta learn t’fuckin’ summon these things…”
[Rory O’Bryne] She has looked all over for him. People have told her where they have seen him, other’s have told her where to find his packmates, and she finds none of them. She is beginning to believe they have sent her on a wild goose chase. It would not be the first time. It will not be the last. Tired of looking for the evening, she finds herself sneaking into the Caern to explore. The Guardians stopped her, then upon remembering her, let her pass unmolested. And so she walks, exploring the area in full. She has seen the shrines, she has seen the graves, she has stood for hours in front of the Silver Record of Forgotten Heroes where the history of the Caern is etched on stone, reminding them of who was here from the beginning and marking the names of the fallen. She has prowled the edges of the lake, weaving among the hulking busted ships, and she has found a curious calm in doing so, in simply exploring this new place that she might stay long enough in to call home.
Her hands are tucked into the pockets of her jacket, and her hood is pulled up, attempting to tame the mop of red curls that threaten to escape anyway. They cannot be contained. her backpack is on her back, her jeans are dark wash, her boots worn.
And on this circuit, she finds Marrick. She hesitates a moment, and then moves up into the Ahroun elder’s line of site, and frees a hand from her pocket to wave. Just enough to get their attention, not to interrupt.
[Marrick Fisher] She looks up briefly, and her attention moves from her work- it could wait. There was a wave, a feeling of rage that caught her attention and made her refocus. There was red hair- it was enough to make her remember. To make something akin to pleasure flit across her face. She knew Rory, or, rather, she had met Rory. They had shared their moments briefly.
She was the girl who needed all the sunscreen.
She was the girl who had bright red hair, who was called Wendy- like the girl from the restaurants.
She was the metis who was sleeping on the streets when they first met.
Rory looked decidedly warmer, today, and a little more confident, “hey, Rory, what’s up?”
Fairly pleasant, this one.
[Rory O’Bryne] There’s a brief smile, but she ducks her head to hide it, even as she walks closer, the distance between them shrunk until it’s respectful still, but the conversation is easier. Not that Rory is much of a conversationalist anyway. She is warmer, but confidence is fleeting, nerves apparent even now as she hunches her shoulders, shoving her hands deeper into her pockets.
She doesn’t answer right away, her gaze flitting over the supplies and what Marrick appears to be doing, before she glances up to meet the gaze of her elder, only to have her own eyes drop immediately afterwards, respectfully. “Flad I gound you. I have something for you.” a pause, briefly. “Mon’t dean to interrupt…” Her words are as twisted as ever, and yet she doesn’t seem to notice at all.
[] (can I join in or they someplace a kin can’t get to?)
to Marrick Fisher, Rory O’Bryne
[Kyle Velener] (can I join in or they someplace a kin can’t get to?)
to Marrick Fisher, Rory O’Bryne
[Marrick Fisher] (alas, it is in the caern! Sorry lovely!)
to , Rory O’Bryne
[Marrick Fisher] (alas, it is in the caern! Sorry lovely!)
to Kyle Velener, Rory O’Bryne
[] (ah well. catch you later :) have fun)
to Marrick Fisher, Rory O’Bryne
[Kyle Velener] (ah well. catch you later :) have fun)
to Marrick Fisher, Rory O’Bryne
[Marrick Fisher] “Eh, jus’ talen making, haven’t really gotten started so y’can’t interrupt somethin’ that hasn’t happened yet,” she informs Rory. Matter of fact, or as matter-of-fact as she can. She does, however, smile a little. Her attention stays with Rory, and she is focused.
She has something for her. And, like an eighteen year old girl, she perks up.
“Y’got me somethin’? Wow… y’didn’t have to… Thank you,” surprised, indeed.
[Rory O’Bryne] “Ain’t much.” she says, as Marrick thanks her before she even sees it. SHe’s nervous, and pale fingers shake almost visibly as she pulls the backpack off her shoulders and kneels in the soft ground so that she can get it open. First visible is a little lampshade, which she pulls free, and then the lamp stand itself. Nimble fingers fuss at it for a while, making sure everything is just right, before she sets it up in front of her, the cord bundled neatly and tied with a twisty. She places the small shade on top of the bulb, and then sits back.
“Found it.” she starts, haltingly, as if hoping to get every word right, though she knows she won’t – that it is impossible. “Tinkered with it until I could get it to wo what I danted. When plugged in, this..” she points to the little orb, half sheltered by a halfmoon piece of metal, and shows how it rotates to show a replica of the moon within… “lotates – right from above shines on it, shows changing mases of the phoon.” She rubs the side of her nose, absently, and nods.
[Marrick Fisher] She knew that this wasn’t going to be easy for Rory, this much has been proven. The Fury listens, and her attention doesn’t waver. She knows that it all isn’t going to come out right, that it’s not going to make sense, but for the most part she can find the meaning, get the jist of what needed to be said.
“Y’know,” she starts, “you were messin’ with.. what? A carousel when we met?” a pause for confirmation. “Yer pretty good at this.”
She looks at the lamp, and there is quiet fascination. Obvious pleasure.
“Wow… jeez, how long did this take?”
[Rory O’Bryne] She flushes with delight that Marrick remembered, though the she lowers her head to hide it, feigning a need to fuss with the lamp a little more as she confirms, “A busic mox carousel.”
She settles back on her heels again, shoulders hunching into a little shrug. “Douple cays. The wiring is easy. Gears harder.” A beat. “Was taught to mresent pyself for service with a gift to the Elder. Have something for Buried Hatchet, too, but haven’t hocated lim.”
[Marrick Fisher] “Hmmn, that’s… have y’managed to meet any of the other Fianna ’round here?” a point of concern. She was trying, that much could be given. Whatever thought she had was lost, flittered away and left to wherever it so desired to go.
“If I see him b’fore you do, I’ll tell him that yer lookin’ for him,” she… hmmn. Seems displeased. Something quiet that is soon abandoned as she turns her attention back on the redhead, “how’s the city been so far?”
[Rory O’Bryne] She shakes her head, reaching up to tuck fire-red curls back into her hood afterwards. “One kin with Bianna flood, but is claimed Fenrir.”
Marrick seems displeased, and Rory fears it has to do with her. She swallows, hard, but remains where she sits, though a tremble works through her frame. It could be contributed to the cold if mentioned – she doesn’t bring it up though, as it seems abandoned quickly enough.
How is the city? “Interesting.” a beat, as she gives another moments thought, then a nod. “Cold.”
[Marrick Fisher] A beat.
“You been huntin’ yet?”
[Rory O’Bryne] She pales slightly at the thought. Not because she doesn’t want to kill shit, because she does. She is an Ahroun. It is what she does, often who she is. There is just something else she has not told anyone as of yet. And she doesn’t tell her now.
Prove yourself first, Rory. Then confess.
“No, yot net.”
[Marrick Fisher] “Well,” she starts, as though this is a fact of life, just another thing, “let’s go. I’ll show you th’ city.”
There is almost quiet pride in this, the kind that would not have been found when she came here first. She was still getting her bearings in this city, but she knew the basics. She knew what was found where. What was attracted to the various parts of the city. Marrick Fisher was aware of things, of a lot of things. She knew the spirits because of the duties she was being prepared for in her home sept. She knew how things worked so that she could see them as threats or find their worth.
[Rory O’Bryne] She looks up and meets the Ahroun Elder’s gaze briefly, just long enough for the little smile to be visible, before she nods and slings her backpack back on with a jingle of the tools in it’s depths. She stands then, and bends to brush the dirt off her knees, before standing tall – well, tall-ish, as she’s only 5’4″.
“Ok.”
[Marrick Fisher] (alrighties, Garfalisa, my darling? Are you on tomorrow? I would love to run stuff for you, but it’s 5:00 central. Wanna try and do stuff together tomorrow?)
[Rory O’Bryne] (OOC: I’d love that! I should be around. my AIM is the same as my username!)
[Marrick Fisher] (awesome possom! *hugs* thank you so much for the scene, I look forward to it!)
[Rory O’Bryne] (OOC: Me too! Thanks!)