[Chloe Abernathy] !!nightmares!!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[Chloe Abernathy] “I ain’t crying-” she’d said this morning. And it was the first thing that she said to no one in particular.
Chloe continued about the day, but she kept looking around. Talked to things that weren’t there, whether they really were there in the spirit world or not. Comforted herself with words and poems and phrases, and stared too closely at incorporeal things.
Chloe Rowan Abernathy deserved her name. Every bit of it.
[“There’s nine of those little shits,” she remembered hearing once.
“Really?”
“Yeah, nine.”
“They catholic?”
“No, they’re micks. There’s Rats in Ireland too, probably can’t afford birth control.”
She remembered laughter. She remembered being distinctly angry at this.
Now, if she could just remember their names…]
[Rory O’Bryne] Rory isn’t bred for living on the street, for being in alleys, for sleeping in boxes. For all of that, though, she has adjusted remarkably well. She has learned to huddle close for warmth, how to make the most of an awning to get out of the rain, how to turn a $4 all you can eat buffet into 3 meals for 2. She’s learning what Chloe always says: The city will provide.
Since leaving the brotherhood, she’s been with Chloe, she’s found places to shower without itching powder, she’s found places to eat, and spent what money she can scrounge together to feed the alley cats – no, not the Garou, the other ones that have learned to come to her call. There are several that have taken up permanent residence near their box, and many more that come and go. And one little guy who found a home with the Fury Kinfolk, despite the fact he said he was a dog person. Kittens are hard to ignore.
In between times, when Chloe has been wandering, Rory has been working, and finally she’s putting the last touches on the last one. A grunt of satisfaction as she affixes the last little bead to the little chain to the top gear, and calls for her packmate, her Alpha.
“Chloe?” who AIN’T crying.
[Chloe Abernathy] It was a mantra, something she had lived so much of her memory by. The city will provide. There are dumpsters, some better than others. She’s taught Rory all that she knows, and Chloe knew quite a lot about urban survival, and learned more every day. She’s been telling Rory that winter was coming, and that they needed to prepare.
But the city would provide.
Chloe heard her name, and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. She trotted over; her face was surprisingly clean today. Her hair was clean like the rest of her was not.
“What’s up?”
[Rory O’Bryne] “Finished!” She’s triumphant, as she sits there at the mouth of the alley – their one in bronzeville, that backs up the two they claim in chinatown. It’s not a large territory, but it’s theirs, and they can prepare for winter here. Rory’s never seen winter. She’s already cold – but Chloe assures her it will be fine.
She trusts Chloe more than she has trusted anyone in a long time. They are The Forgotten. They are the Alleycats. They are together.
Her smile is shy, timid almost, and hidden with a duck of her head behind a curtain of blood-red curls that capture the meager glow of the street lamp nearest them. She looks up as Chloe comes close, and she picks up two of a set of 6 – it looks like just a pile of random glass and metal until she holds them up by the top hook…
Windchimes. Mismatched sets, one for each end of the three alleys they call theirs. “I made fese thor you. To tark our merritory. Thought you could sind birits to them, maybe. Alarms?”
They’re each about 12 inches in length, and chatter happily in little clanks and clatters and bells and sounds as she rattles them, simulating the soft sounds the wind can play with later… hopeful… eager, almost, for praise.
[Chloe Abernathy] They are Forgotten, not discarded.
She trusts Rory because they are pack. She trusts Rory because they are connected by more than red hair and green eyes. To the untrained eye, they could be sisters. To those who knew better, Rory and Chloe could not be any more different. She is a mutt, and Rory’s blood sings and rings true. Fianna do not follow vermin.
She inhales softly when she sees the wind chimes. her hands go out, delicately, she looks them over. Her eyes are not dismissive. There is quiet praise there, a pleasure in her gaze. She blows on them, hearing the sounds clatter. Her face lights up.
“With the right stuff, these will be perfect… the wind would love these. Glass. Iron. Scab birds, magpies, ravens… they’re so shiny!”
She looked at Rory with a bright grin.
“Wanna learn a rite?”
[Gabriel] Speak of the devil… and he shall appear. (Or, well… contemplate the devil, perhaps. No one had been speaking of him tonight.) At present, there was an alley cat in the city of Chicago who was no longer an alley cat. The large, fluffy male kitten had somehow managed to crawl its way into both the heart and home of a self-professed dog person, and this was not exactly the world’s easiest task. Then again, there was something to be said for being open to new possibilities, and coming as he did from a life of instability, Gabriel Tremblay was nothing if not capable of rolling with the punches.
Besides, that kitten was damn cute.
And soon enough the kinfolk had managed to find his way back to the place where he’d adopted said kitten. It wasn’t very far from his apartment, and there was a vietnamese joint which was open late into the night only a few blocks away. Gabriel was on his way back from there now, content with his late dinner and with the relatively relaxed day he’d had. Things seemed to have settled down briefly. That wasn’t likely to remain the case. He was dressed in a similar outfit to the one Rory had seen him in on their previous encounter: brown cargo pants, white t-shirt, grey hoodie and a black leather jacket. And of course, the ever-present faded brown cap. Seems he wore that thing nearly everywhere.
Voices caught his attention as he came around a corner, and he paused at the mouth of an alley. Rory was there. As was someone else.
“Fancy meeting you again,” he addressed the metis with a little nod and a subdued smile.
[Rory O’Bryne] Chloe is pleased. And Rory flushes with delight, her cheeks stained with color as she watches Chloe with the chimes, and declares them not only good, but perfect for the use she intended them for.
And then, to learn a new rite too? She smiles, that shy little grin that doesn’t quite get shown, and nods, her curls tumbling over themselves as she does so. “Please! I don’t mave hany.”
Then he comes around the corner, the tall handsome Fury who was smitten by a kitten, and she ducks her head again as the color in her cheeks deepen further. “Hi.” She nudges Chloe with an elbow – this was the one she told her about. “Gabriel.”
[Chloe Abernathy] “Well, I’ll teach you t’bind stuff. I’ll show you what I know, you show me what you know. Good times.”
She beamed at the idea of teaching. Chloe looked at Gabriel and was taken back for a moment. That man was clearly a Fury. The redhead wiped her hand off on her dirty jeans, then offered it to Gabriel.
“I’m Chloe, good to meet you. You an’ Rory friends?”
[Gabriel] “Of a sort, I suppose. Only just met, really. She got me to take home one of your numerous alley cats.” There was some humor to his voice, and the way that he grinned as he reached out to take Chloe’s offered hand. His own was large, with long fingers that looked like they’d been stained purple in a few spots. They smelled faintly of developing chemicals from a darkroom.
“Nice to meet you.”
When he let go of the theurge’s hand, he reached up to push his hat back a little, repositioning it so that the brim didn’t shadow his eyes so much.
[Rory O’Bryne] “Deal!” She smiles at Chloe, and – not for the first time – wonders at how lucky she has been since striking out on her own, and coming to Chicago. She scrubs her hands over the thighs of her jeans, and then rubs them together. It’s damp, and colder than she’s used too, but she’s adapting, slowly. If Winter holds off just a little while longer, she’ll be ok.
She grins a little as he mentions the cat. “The little fray gluffball adopted Gabriel.” He’d been a favorite, and she’s pleased he found a home. She glances up at the Fury and tips her head, slightly. “Sandlord luspicious?”
[Chloe Abernathy] She looks at Rory and grins something ear-to-ear. She’s a cute girl. They both are; the girls are of the same height, same eye color. They even have similar builds except for the fact that it looks like Rory could kick someone’s ass and take their name too easily, and Chloe was quite average.
“Ohh, not allowed to have pets?”
She smells like strawberry shampoo and wet garbage. Well, more like dry garbage today.
“You better take care of that fluffball, you hear? He’s a good one. And make sure he doesn’t try to sleep on your face. He does that.”
[Gabriel] “Not yet. He doesn’t come around much… lucky for me.” He glanced down at Rory as he said this, answering her question before returning his gaze to Chloe. Gabriel had the kind of eyes that tended to change color depending on the light. At night, with the glare of the streetlamps and the harsh shadows, they tended to look dark.
“No, not… technically. And you know, he did try that, but we had a nice long conversation about my needing to breath, and he sleeps in on his own pillow now.”
[Rory O’Bryne] Rory looks like she can kick ass and take names – but she happens to know Chloe ate a flesh-eating midget. In one bite. It took Rory two to get the other one. Chloe is far from average.
[Fianna don’t follow Rats. Chloe is not just ANY Rat.]
While Chloe smells of strawberry and garbage, under the grit of the street, Rory is oddly unscented. There’s no whiff of body oder, there’s not a hint of natural smell that marks each individually. It is as if her pale skin is a clean sheet of paper, unmarred… other than by freckles by the hundreds.
The grey furball has his own pillow, and she’s clearly pleased by this. “You hame nim?”
[Chloe Abernathy] !!gotta pee, skip me!!!
to Gabriel, Rory O’Bryne
[Gabriel] “Apollo,” he responded to Rory’s question with a nod. (And a fine, greek name it was, too.) Already the kitten was beginning to exert the force of its personality, and it seemed to be growing into quite the confidant, gregarious creature.
And here Gabriel was, having a conversation about kittens with two of Gaia’s chosen warriors. There was enough rage in this little alley to terrify most ordinary people. Enough even to make kin nervous. But Gabriel wasn’t nervous. He seemed relaxed. Comfortable, even. His blood sang of the Wyld, and of amazons… but he was perfectly content to talk to a couple of street girls. There was no judgment in the way he looked at them, for all that Chloe might smell a little of garbage and the setting might look a little less than pleasing to the eye.
Neither Rory nor Chloe had attempted to grab him and order him about, or throw him on the ground and start smelling him like he was some kind of prize breeding stock. And he… appreciated this.
[Rory O’Bryne] She gives the name consideration for a long moment, and then nods. “Fits.” Her grin for Gabriel was shy, and brief, and she ducks her head to hide it easily enough. The last they met he’d mentioned her lack of aggression – and she is still very much the same, despite the swelling moon in the sky. The rage is spiked, harsh and clinging to the slender fianna in a crackling second skin, but she is just as shy and controlled as she was their first meeting.
Fianna are not know for being kind to their mules – especially with the waste of breeding that rushes through her veins. She could have bread great warriors – if not for a sin she must bear the mark of her entire life. She’d never throw him on the ground.
Unless he deserved it.
Her fingers itch to be busy, and she fusses with the finished wind chimes. When they met she had only finished one – now there are six, and have been presented to Chloe. She plucks and fusses and fixes what doesn’t need any more fixing, her hands simply needing to be busy.
Then curiosity gets the best of her. “You nork wights?” As ever, she doesn’t notice her speech is odd. His simple acceptance of it goes far in her eyes.
[Chloe Abernathy] “He did kinda radiate sungod, come to think of it.”
Chloe mused over this, nodding in agreement with Rory. The two were in tandem, a connected group of girls if there ever was one. Despite the swelling moon overhead, Rory O’Bryne was in control. and Chloe, for her part, seemed grounded. Leave it to a rat and a mule to respect someone’s space, to be the voices of reason. Both Chloe and Gabriel did not seem to notice the Fian’s unique speech, or they simply did not see it an issue.
Chloe would speak when she needed, and very rarely did she need Rory to explain. Her meaning understood, such was the benefit of wisdom. Everything need not be explicit.
Rory asked the question on her mind, and instead she perked up and waited for the answer.
[Gabriel] “Nah…” he trailed off and gave a light shrug, letting his hands find their way into the pockets of his jacket. “Well, not for pay, anyway. I use the dark rooms on campus during the night because they’re usually a lot more empty then. I really hate being in there with the undergrads. can’t focus.”
He moved, then, stepping to one side and settling himself with his back against the brick wall. A more relaxed pose. Something he could hold for awhile without fidgeting.
“Some nights I kind of just… stay up. Cause I’m so used to it. It’s a bad habit.”
[Rory O’Bryne] She watches him as he shifts positions, finds a comfortable spot on the wall to lean against. Then she realizes she’s watching and drops her gaze instantly to the bits and bobs of left over pieces that didn’t make the grade to be on the chimes. She collects some, rattles them in her hands, lets them slide through her fingers. He finds a place to not fidget, and she seems to be unable to keep herself from doing the same.
A darkroom, on campus. “Oh! You pake tictures?”
[Chloe Abernathy] “What do you take pictures of?”
She takes a second to move some things to the side. Rory keeps with the conversation, and the pack’s Alpha tried to make their alleyway a little more people friendly. Soon enough, she had a place cleaned off that wasn’t completely dirty for him to sit on.
“Wanna sit?”
[Gabriel] He made a sound in his throat. The mhmm of an affirmative response. Gabriel had a pleasant voice. Deep, but not too much so. He tended to speak softly, but not in a nervous way. Mostly, it was just his personality. He didn’t crave the spotlight. Was happy simply to exist and let the world move around him. To watch.
Like a photographer.
Chloe cleared off a place for him to sit down, and although he would have been content to stay where he was, he nonetheless recognized the effort that was being made, and nodded to her in thanks before lifting himself away from the wall and hunkering down on the ground. He didn’t seem overly concerned about getting dirty.
“Depends, really. I do freelance work as a photojournalist for the Sun Times. That’s really what I’d like to do, professionally speaking. But for myself… I like to do black and whites. Whatever catches my eye. Portraits, nature shots… I’d love to be able to work with medium and large format some day.”
[Rory O’Bryne] “Medium?” she questions, curious. She grabs her pack – always nearby – and starts to dig inside, going deep to the bottom. She hasn’t much, everything she owns fits in this single backpack, and there’s room to spare. She finally comes up with a small box that contains her tools, and her next project.
It’s a pocket watch, busted and broken, what looks to be beyond repair. She starts in with her small set of tools, and methodically takes it completely apart, right down to the tiniest little spring and gear. It keeps her hands busy, and her cheeks from flushing, her nerves under better control if she can concentrate on something else at the same time.
She does watch him as he sits, until she catches herself, and it’s back to the watch. “Had tictures paken once.” a beat, and a little grin, as she shakes her head. “Old pack played dot to dot with fy mreckles on prints.”
[Chloe Abernathy] A pause, a grin at Rory.
“That actually sounds fun. You do me, I do you?”
[Gabriel] “Oh, sorry…” he apologized in that off-hand way that people did when they realized they’d been using terminology that anyone not interested or involved in the craft would probably be unfamiliar with. “It’s the size of the negative. Medium format is like… a big square, rather than a roll like most cameras use. When you work with something that large to start with, the pictures come out with an amazing amount of detail. But I can’t afford a camera for it yet, let alone my own dark room.”
And he was rambling. Which was extremely unlike him. Gabriel was more of a listener than he was a talker, so hearing him string that many sentences together in one sitting was a rare experience. Rory mentioned playing dot-to-dot with her freckles, and Chloe agreed that it sounded like fun. The packmates seemed to have a nice relationship. Moreso than some. Like sisters. Or best friends. Gabriel glanced back and forth between them for a moment, contemplating.
“If you like, I could bring a camera next time. Get some shots of the two of you.”
[Rory O’Bryne] Chloe thinks they should do it and Rory ducks her head, hiding her grin shyly as she lifts a hand and rubs at the side of her nose, leaving a smudge in her finger’s wake, as her hand falls to pry apart a particularly stubborn spring from the watches casing.
It’s a large square – and she tips her head. “Like photographers use in mig bovies?” She understands not being able to afford things, for sure, and then he offers to bring the camera next time, and she glances at Chloe – deferring to her in this one, though the pair of them, with red hair and the general dirty underground of the alley… if done right, it’d likely make him a bundle if he could sell them. She shrugs a shoulder -she’s game if Chloe is.
[Chloe Abernathy] “We’ll trade. You take some pictures and.. uh… we’ll take you out for Korean.”
She looked at Gabriel with a grin.
“Sound like a deal?”
[Gabriel] “Hell, I’d have done it for free.” He smiled at the two women, then picked himself slowly off the ground and dusted his legs absently with his hands to rid them of any residual dust or grime. “But Korean sounds nice. You’ve got yourselves a deal. Suppose I’ll have to come by when the sun is out, next time.”
He seemed to be preparing himself to go, though he didn’t particularly want to. It was late, and he had a bed to go crawl into. Reaching up with a hand, he curled it into a loose fist and covered a small, slow yawn that forced itself out of his sleepy jaws.
“I better get going before I pass out and you two have to stick me in a dumpster somewhere. Catch you later.”
And with a last, long look between the two freckled faces, he grudgingly turned around and walked back off down the sidewalk.
[Rory O’Bryne] The shy grin appears again as he stands, and the deal is made. He might even come when the sun is up next time. Like they’d stick him in a dumpster when they have a perfectly comfortable refrigerator box for sleeping purposes. Though if he thinks sleeping with the cat is difficult, two freckled garou and half a dozen cats – it might be a tight fit.
But that’s beside the point – he has a bed, and the sun will rise soon. She lifts her head, and he’s treated to an actual view of that shy little grin before she returns her attention to the watch in her hand.
“Goodnight, Gabriel.”
[Chloe Abernathy] She looked at the Fury kin, and she smiled a content sort of smile. She waved goodbye, then looked at her packmate. THe smile on her face was infinitely pleased.
[Rory O’Bryne] [And that’s a Wrap! Thanks for playing!]