[Maija] There is any number of reasons that Maija would be in the Green. The most likely is the little second hand bookstore, Already Read. They’ve a bargain bin where books are a buck a piece, and that’s affordable. And she is an avid reader.
In fact, she’s reading now, reading the back of the book she’d picked up as she walks down the sidewalk outside of a diner, walking right into the corner of the patio fence, where just beyond a group of Fenrir chat in an impromptu meeting.
“…OWfuck.” it busts free as she is stopped by the jab into her hip, and her hand falls to rub against it. Only then does she notice the group at the Diner, many of whom she knows.
[Moira Murray] Moira starts to laugh a little, shaking her head at his questions, “You are terrible as always, Rotagar.”
Her eyes look back to Drew for a moment, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the way she has come under the brunt of the Rotagar’s sarcasm.
Moira looks back to him, “I have been finishing school and traveling to other countries, to visit family,” she says to Kemp, “And no I’m not hitched nor do I have children. You seem to forget that male Garou are frightened of me and…” she shrugs again, “I have a cat.”
“How’s the son?”
[Kemp Oates] “Son is good. Growing. Not as ugly as his father.”
He replied to Moira, cocking his head.
“What do cats have to do with anything? I like them just fine. With ketchup.”
[Kemp Oates] Maija hit the fence and had his attention away from Moira a moment.
“Heh, look out for the fence. We just put it up about five minutes ago. It keeps the rabble out and gives the illusion of a zoo pen. Obviously those on the far side from us are the animals.”
[Moira Murray] “You asked if I had children, I said no, I have a cat instead of children. Easier to maintain.” She nods her head to his reply about his son, “That is good to hear.”
[Joe Holst] As ever a bit slow on the uptake, Joe doesn’t seem to notice Drew’s discomfort. Instead he waves to the slight kinwoman and shouts something about ‘coming by latah’
Joe’s brow blackens slightly as he hears Moira’s comment- never one to wait for a polite moment when any ol’ moment will do, Joe tosses a Jersey rumble into Kemp and Moira’s conversation.
“Respeckful wha’ dey bettah be, dem males. Uddahwise we come by an’ open deah bellies.” Joe swings a thumb between himself and Kemp for a moment, before he leaves the pair to their discussion. Ever a gentleman, he seems hardly to notice as Maija’s form splangs off the iron grillwork, aside from a mildly sympathetic wince. “Yew awright dearIE?” He tosses it over John’s shoulder, before giving the man another moment or two of careful consideration. “John, ’bout dem numbahs…”
[Drew Roscoe] “Yeah, catch ya later,” was given as a vague reply, and the Kinfolk peeled herself away from the fence and turned to continue up the sidewalk. She hunched her shoulders up and zipped her hoodie, fishing her earbuds out of her pocket and jamming them back into place so she could return to her music.
A glance was cast back, but she kept on a’walkin’.
[Imogen Slaughter] “Good-bye, Drew.” Imogen’s farewell is mild, almost an afterthought.
[Kemp Oates] “Cats are easier than kids. Though not as tender.”
He replied to Moira. Then Joe spoke up and he had to add.
“Moira can take care of herself. She’s an old hand at it and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate myself taking up for her in her lovin, humpin, or whatever affairs.”
He waved to Drew as she started off.
“Later!”
[Maija] She reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear – the hoodie is gone, destroyed beyond repair in a battle that almost destroyed her beyond repair too. Instead, she’s doubled up – a long sleeve t-shirt, with a thermal underneath, and a zip up sweater on top. All second or third hand, all well worn, but at least she’s somewhat warm. Somewhat. Her hands are always cold.
“S’that so.” Is her reply to Kemp, though she looks past him and to Moira, to Imogen, to Joe, to John…He gets a little quirk of her lips upwards – someday it might grow into a smile. Maybe.
Oh. and there goes Drew too.
“M’fine,” is tossed at Joe, almost absently.
[John Thornton] John seems to listen to all of the conversations and none of them, remaining silent within the group for the time being. A curious brow rises anew as Joe mentions himself to be quite the dancer…
He turns to Drew as she starts to leave.
“Good night.”
Then, the hazel eyes turn to Maija as she runs into the fence. The deadpan giving way to that not-a-smile he sometimes wears…
Before swinging back to Joe.
“What about them?”
John’s expression deadpans thoroughly as Joe begins, the hazel eyes locking onto Joe’s without deviation. The look became nearly clinical… Like that of a biologist inspecting a new species of bug in a jar…
Perhaps reminiscent of what one would find in an interrogation room.
[Joe Holst] (Got a call folks- thanks for the scene!) Joe chews on Kemp’s reply- not entirely comfortable with it, but content enough to sit on it. His camp’s ways were not everyone’s.. and it was just something he’d have to grow acclimated to. As John responds to Joe’s opener and favors him with a touch of that certain cop look, Joe’s eyes twitch narrower.. a muscle in his neck twitches, and the kid proceeds.
Right the first try, Detective.
“Da kid- what was stayin’ wit someone uddah den a cousin? He aint aroun’ no moah.. went back home ta ‘is fambly.” Uddahwise I’m pretty shuwah ah got everyone’s numbah-“A brief gesture toward Moira- but his eyes never leave John. “-cept feh Beth. Dat one lady, huh?” Joe chews hard on his gum for a moment or two longer, then rises stiffly from the table with a mutter about going to see about that waiter.
As he tromps away from the table, Joe breathes deep, and keeps his hands in his pockets, balled into fists that sting with tension.
[Moira Murray] “Hmm, I’ll have to remember that.”
When Joe speaks up, color begins to creep up in her throat and cheeks, her head cast down to allow her eyes to stare down at the patio’s cement floor. She doesn’t look in the direction of the Jarl, only calls out to Joe. “Does this mean you’ll be opening up your own belly then, Joe Holst?”
Kemp’s addition to Joe’s comment brings her face back up and her eyes roll upward briefly, she wrinkles up her nose at him. “Perhaps, if you are still my friend I would appreciate the familiarity of an old face for company sometime. And I don’t have affairs…”
[Joe Holst] ((back in a bit!))
[Kemp Oates] Once again his gaze locked on John as Joe spoke and rose to walk off. He could feel the tension rising off his Tribal brother.
((later Joe!))
[Maija] She rubs her hip another moment, then tucks the book she’d been reading back into her bag. Joe leaves, carrying a good bit of the rage with him. Everyone else she is relatively comfortable with – even Kemp. He’s Imogen approved. And likes her biscuits.
A moments hesitation more, and she finally moves to the gate, to join them on the patio.
[Kemp Oates] “I ain’t never stopped being a friend Moira, but I gave up sticking my nose in your love life a long time ago.”
To him it sounded as if Joe and Moira had a thing going on from Moira’s comment and he wasn’t even going to step in that pile and have it sticking to his shoes.
“Maija, ya gonna remain with the animals or come sit with the spectators?”
[Maija] (Switches those around – there. perfect.)
She settles to an empty chair, and glances a Kemp, arching a brow, slightly. “Better?”
[Kemp Oates] “Oh I am fine, just fine.”
He was slouched back in the chair, half spilling off of it with his long legs stretched out before him.
[John Thornton] The sense of eyes upon him was impossible to dismiss, the detective’s hazel eyed gaze moving to meet Kemp’s briefly until he invites Maija to sit with them. He smiles that wan not-a-smile as he turns to her.
“Good evening, Maija. How are you, tonight?”
[Kemp Oates] He returned John’s look with a less than Human gleam in his own. A challenge was something that was always close to the surface with a wolf, all it took was a good stare to bring the animal to the fore. This animal smiled with the face of a human as the beast rose up behind those eyes with an almost eager intensity.
[Moira Murray] She had nothing going on with anyone. Moira had barely been back for more than a week and no time to even think of such notions as her love life. She sits back in her chair, her eyes narrowing on the Rotagar briefly.
“Never had one to begin with, Kemp, so there wasn’t much for you to sniff at.”
Maija has decided to join them, taking up an abandoned seat. She wrinkles up her nose, the thought of food coming back to her mind as she reached for the menu once more.
“So, Imogen, nothing new came of the last Sunday, yes?”
[Maija] She glances up at John, before setting her bag on the floor by her chair, then lifting a foot to hook it on the edge of the seat. She pulls her her sleeves down over her hands, and folds her arms across her belly, before she answers.
“Alright.” a beat. “I passed.”
If he remembers the conversation – it could only be one test she’s talking about: her GED.
[Kemp Oates] “I gave up sniffing for Lent.”
Mumbled to Moira absently as if on autopilot. The slouch in the chair was deceptively relaxed. Maija replied to John and gave Kemp an whole new world of wondering to think on with the “I passed” response.
[Imogen Slaughter] A flicker of her gaze toward Maija when she says she passed – connecting dots, one assumes. “Congratulations,” she says, mildly before turning her head to look at Moira.
“Not so far. The story I gave holds water, so I hope we don’t have any further problems.”
A beat.
“I’d appreciate more warnin’ than findin’ such a thing on my autopsy table, however.”
[John Thornton] John nods, still smiling that wan not-a-smile as he answers Maija.
“That’s good news… Congratulations.”
Then, as Imogen mentions her autopsy table, a curious brow rises and John’s attention is diverted to that conversation briefly.
[Maija] “Thanks.” to both John and Imogen. “Kin breath a lil now, while I save up some.”
She glances at Kemp, and shakes her head. “whatever ya thinkin, prolly ain’t it. Got my GED.”
[Moira Murray] Moira’s eyes cut sharply to Kemp with his mumbled reply. She says nothing in response, letting the topic die off as she focused on something else. It didn’t feel right to continue in that strain of conversation with him as it started to feel personal.
She lets out a sigh, slapping the menu back down on to the table again, losing her appetite. “That wasn’t entirely my fault I’ll have you know. I’m just grateful that the two other kin that were with me actually listened to me when I warned them of trouble. I hadn’t expected to see… or identify what I did.”
Moira folds her arms across her stomach, “I’ll remember to call next time.”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s mouth twitches slightly. “The others would be told th’same thing, but they’re not here. You are.”
She’ll remember to call next time. “Please do.”
[Kemp Oates] “Ok, that’s my cue.”
He slapped the table too, only without the menu as he shot to his feet.
“Congrads on getting geded, Maija.”
Making it a word with no idea what the fuck she was talking about anyway. Which was exactly why he was leaving. He had no idea what the others were talking about.
[Kemp Oates] “Good to see ya. Been a long time. Congrads, condolences, well wishes and everyone be sure to call each other and shit.”
He waved as he stepped towards that little barrier fence and kicked a leg up over it to step to the otherside, heading off.
[Kemp Oates] ((Thanks!))
[John Thornton] John turns back to Maija and nods.
“How much did the GED set you back?”
[Maija] She blinks as Kemp gets up to go so suddenly, startled. “…was it somethin’ I said?”
She scratches idly at her side, the scars still itching a bit, before she looks back at John. “Folks at th’Hill House helped out. Ain’t had t’pay but half of it. They supplied th’book n shit too, t’study, which was th’most expensive. So wasn’t bad.”
[Moira Murray] “Well now!”
Moira claps her hands and begins to rub them together. “I think that little family reunion went smashingly, don’t you, Imogen?”
She snorts softly, not bothering to look in the direction the Garou have all gone in. She turns her attentions to John, gesturing to him. “Why is it that Joe and Kemp don’t like you?”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen smirks faintly. “Given th’family, Moira, are yeh truly surprised?” an eyebrow arches upward.
A glance to Maija, her question. “No,” the answer is even. “He’s just naturally that way.”
[John Thornton] At this, that curious brow rises again… John’s gaze turns to Moira.
“I thought we were getting along quite well, actually… You disagree?”
John’s curious stare holds up for a short time, before he smiles that wan not-a-smile. Maybe he was being facetious…
“I have my suspicions as to why each of them reacts to me as they do. However, rather than voicing those suspicions, I would prefer to remain silent on the issue.
They can speak to the matter with far more surety than I.”
[Maija] Imogen declares Kemp to always be that way, and she nods, with that slight smirk. She is quiet then, as John discusses Joe and Kemp, and their reactions to him with Moira. They don’t like her much either – or rather, never seem to notice. You’d think they’d be happy she helped save their girl, enough for at least a hello – but then again, said girl is Drew. Maybe not.
Instead, she grabs her pack and digs around inside for her cigarettes and lighter, using the latter to light the former when found, and turning her head to exhale away from the group at the table as she puts the pack and lighter back into her bag.
[Moira Murray] “I want to be, Imogen, honest to Gaia I really do want to be.” Lips quirk into a small smile for the redhead, as she chuckles.
Moira regards John and then snorts again with indifference. “They are not always the easiest lot to get along with, especially if Thomas and Joe are under Kemp’s influence. He is bound to leave some form of an impression upon them, it’ll get worse if they worship the Rotagar.”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s mouth twists slightly as she takes another sip of coffee, grimacing as she realizes it is cold. She sets the cup down decisively.
“And here I thought yeh liked Kemp,” she observes in Moira’s direction.
[Moira Murray] If Moira knew how to imitate Imogen’s infamous – paint peeling – stare, she would be shooting it at the good doctor right about now. The corner of her mouth twitches as it turns down into a grim line. She wrinkles up her nose.
“He hasn’t changed at all. I still like him – just don’t carry a torch for him anymore.”
[John Thornton] At Moira’s words, John shrugs…
“They can only be what they are… As I can only be what I am. That may put us at odds some day; but even foreknowledge of trouble doesn’t mean it can be averted entirely.
Just ask Cassandra of Troy.”
Then, John’s phone starts to vibrate in his jacket pocket. Withdrawing it from the interior pocket of the trench, John sighs and stands.
“Work beckons.”
He walks a short distance away and opens the phone. After pressing a button, he answers…
“Go ahead…”
((I’m pretty beat, folks, so I think I’ll call it a night. THanks for the rp; I had fun))
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s mouth twists further, a genuine smirk, genuine amusement, “I’m sure he’ll be relieved t’hear that.”
John gets to his feet, and Imogen’s eyes lift to him. “Goodnight, Detective,” she bids him farewell.
[Maija] A brow arches slightly at that, as she looks at Moira briefly, curious. She doesn’t ask though. it ain’t none of her business. John gets a call, and stands, and moves away. She watches him as he moves past her.
She could ask if he’s going to come by tonight. She doesn’t. She could say something, ask something, or at least say goodbye. She doesn’t do that either. Of course, neither did he.
Instead, she listens to Imogen and Moira’s exchange continue about Kemp.
[Moira Murray] “I am most certain he doesn’t care. Never has.” Imogen is amused by Moira’s reactions, she seems to find herself in the defensive.
John mentions something about Cassandra of Troy and it brings her eyes upon him as he makes his leave. Duty calling to pull the Fenrir kin away. She doesn’t watch him go as she normally did, only brings her gaze back down to the table and snorts softly.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen studies Moira for several seconds. She studies the girl’s expression. Her body posture.
Then, she simply decides to move on. Her attention turns to Maija. “D’yeh know what yeh intend t’do now that you’ve got your GED?”
[Moira Murray] Moira rests her hands on the table, leaning forward as she pushes herself up and out of the chair. A glance spared to the women sitting across from her. “I shall bid you all good night. I should be going.”
[Maija] “Breathe.” Her lips quirk into a brief grin, there than gone again, just as it always is. She turns her attention to the ladies at the table with her, and lifts a bony shoulder in a shrug. “Work a bit, save up some. Earliest I’d be able t’get some classes done is January anyway. Folks at th’House said they’d help me find some grants n shit too.”
Then Moira stands, and Maija shakes her head. “Ain’t no one that kin kill a party faster’n’me.”
[Imogen Slaughter] “Moira.” Imogen turns her head to look at the girl.
Once spoken, she pauses briefly.
“S’just a joke about Kemp.” Simply. “Ha’ a good night.”
[Moira Murray] “It isn’t you, Maija, trust me. It isn’t you.” She tries to play up a smile for the Gnawer kin, stepping away from the table to head for the fence. Imogen manages to halt the young kin in her steps before she has gone too far away.
A glance over her shoulder, “Have a good night, Imogen.” with that she exits.
[Moira Murray] (Have a good night! I think I’m going to try and sleep after hunting down the kitten)
to Imogen Slaughter, Maija
[Maija] She doesn’t answer that, as Moira tries to find a smile. She just lifts her cigarette to her lips and takes a deep drag, turning her head to the side to exhale, before she watches Moira go.
She glances at Imogen, and shakes her head. “Contrary t’popular believe bout my kind? I shower regular like.”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s breath exhales sharply. “I don’t believe it was you. In any o’ the situations.”
[Maija] She nods, slightly. “Figured there was some history there I ain’t privy to.” She gestures absently. “ain’t askin t’be either. S’just funny. I’m so used t’hidin, and not attractin notice. Soon as I decide t’pop in now an’ again, an actually, yanno, speak?”
A brief exhale, that’s almost laughter as she waves it off. “So. How’s things with you?”
[Imogen Slaughter] A twist of her mouth, slight. “Well enough.” It is an answer with very little in the way of information.
A pause, thoughtful, before she reaches into her jacket pocket to retrieve her cigarette packet, her lighter.
“I imagine it goes without saying,” she says, “but yeh know tha’ if there is a suspicious body, yeh should gi’ me a ring, hm?” A faint smirk, “Coverin’ my bases just a little.”
[Joe Holst] Joe comes rumbling back up the street, writing on a scrap of paper with a purloined pen now that the rain has let up. He grumbles to himself as he moves back toward the iron gate, pausing just on the other side long enough to stop writing.. then scrambles back over the hip high fence. As usual, strength and speed the boy has in spades- but not a shred of grace.
The fence pings a bit before vibrating into stillness- the skinhead’s boot had gotten caught- clearly a problem to fix with a hard jerk. He punches his hands into his pockets and moves back toward the thinning crowd at the table.
[Maija] The answer given is the one expected. She uses the same non-answers herself. Give away nothing, and there is nothing to use against you.
Imogen asks about strange bodies, and she arches a brow slightly. “Yeah, I do. Woulda called th’last time but well, I weren’t in no condition t’do anythin’ at all, an’ John was there t’take care of it.”
She stretches her arm out to the side, and flicks the ashes off the tip of her cigarette, then falls completely still as Joe returns. She remains so for a moment, two, than she resumes movement and lifts her cigarette back to her lips.
[Imogen Slaughter] “I’m not particularly concerned if folks can take care o’ it themselves, just, clearly, when they can’t,” Imogen shrugs slightly, then smirks. “But glad tha’ we cleared tha’ up.”
The rattle of the fence catches her attention and she turns her head in time to see Joe coming back toward them.
“Joe,” she greets him. “Welcome back.” The words are not warm. But they are there, nonetheless.
[Joe Holst] “Guys.” Joe jerks his chin in a pseudo greeting that takes in both kin, before dropping his forbidding bulk in one of the available chairs. His gaze swivels between the two of them, lingering, slightly narrow eyed, on Maija for a moment. Some sort of recognition glimmers there for a moment before he addresses both of them, quietly. Voice a rumble that settles into its bass as he gets older. Or more hardened.
“Yah heah abaht alla dese Children droppin’ like flies?”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s eyebrow lifts upward, “Do you mean children as in – offspring, or children as in Children o’ Gaia?”
[Maija] She meets his gaze, briefly, and then looks away once more. Imogen answers the question on the tip of her tongue, so she simply lets her foot fall to the floor, lifting the other to catch on the edge of her seat. Her free hand wraps lazily around her belly, while the other lifts her cigarette to her lips.
“Ain’t heard nuthin, no.” bout either.
[Joe Holst] “Like Coggies.” Joe nods to Imogen as he sweeps his coffee cup up and tilts it back again. Frigid. Delightful. Joe makes a face and thumps it back on the table before wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. Bright blue eyes swivel toward the street and a frown flickers across his face. “Joss t’inks its ‘er fault tew. Sweah, Doc.. dese cravens bettah staht standin’ on deah own.. stop leanin’ on Fenrir ta take alla blame.”
Maybe its then that he realizes he’s the only Fenrir at the table. It might even matter, were Joe less of an asshole. In either case, he grits his teeth- features remarkably like a pit bull for a moment before he moves to rise again. “Anyhow.. guess I bettah get onna job.” Slight blush- perhaps the kid does have a bit of shame somewhere under the bluster.
“Eiddah ah youse needa walk home uh summat?”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen shakes her head slightly, getting to her feet. “I’m not parked far – I can manage on my own.” A glance toward Maija, “Ha’ a good night.”
(sorry guys, I’m starting to diiiie.)
[Maija] There’s a nod for Imogen. “G’night.”
And then consideration of Joe, and a look to the street. His territory isn’t far from her home. She knows this. While a great big part of her thinks it’s a bad idea, ultimately, she finally nods anyway. “Yeah, alright. Since it’s on ya way n’shit.”
[Imogen Slaughter] (thanks for the RP!)
[Joe Holst] “Awright.” Joe cocks his head toward the street and tromps toward the gate. He at least notices she’s a girl- a slap or two at the latch and he swings the gate open, holding it with a thigh as he crosses his arms and throws a mean face at a passerby who’d thought to complain at him tossing it open.
[Maija] She reaches down and grabs her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder before she takes a final drag and puts out the cigarette in the nearest ashtray, exhaling away from Joe as a courtesy. Then she moves past him her shoulders tensing, her spine ramrod straight as she passes him, his rage twisting along her skin, raising the hair at the back of her neck.
Her jaw clicks as she clenches her teeth briefly, then forces herself to relax again.
[Joe Holst] Joe’s chilling eyes pass from the backpack, to the back of the woman’s head as he stomps along to catch up after letting the gate swing shut behind him. The boy rarely blinks, something that likely only adds to the general discomfort- that strange sense of being stalked, more than idly watched.
“Sah what’cha majah?”
[Maija] It takes a moment, maybe two as she tries to figure out what he means, and then her expression clears, a brief smirk passing over her lips as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her jeans.
“Ain’t got one yet. Jus’ passed m’GED today. Ain’t been in school since I was 13. Finally settled enough t’finish high school.”
She glances at him, sideways, briefly, then back to the walk ahead. “Ain’t able t’afford t’go t’school yet. Maybe a class in th’new year or some shit.”
[Joe Holst] “Got dem papah’s huh?” Oddly, a mildly impressed look passes under Joe’s brutish face. He punches hands like large stones into the pockets of his jacket and chews hard on a large chunk of gum. “Cool.”
His attention swings to the street, watching that space that seems to move with him. Rage crackles and buzzes just at the edge of awareness.. spiking pulses and hammering hearts all around.. and the menacing neo nazi does nothing at all to blunt it.
[Maija] A skinny shoulder shrugs, slightly. “Had a bit a help gettin m’name changed so’s I could quit runnin – or at least t’make it’ harder for’em t’find me so’s I could get shit taken care of.”
He falls quiet, and so does she, for a bit. And then. “Ya ain’t like th’detective much, do ya…” Curious.
[Joe Holst] Joe’s response is quick, and defensive. The boy isn’t hard to read- everything seems kept on his angry, angry sleeve. In any case the open, if slight compliment of a moment ago is forgotten in the gravely warning of his response.
“He’s fambly..” Joe’s eyes swivel down to Maija. Joe isn’t really all that tall- but the sense of presence, waiting force, he projects makes the boy seem much larger. “..an’ dats Fenrir bidness.”
[Maija] He bristles, and she flinches – ready for whatever blow comes, stealing herself for it before he even finishes his growl. It’s clear she’s been hit before, and far more often than he would guess. It’s in the way she shifts her weight slightly, her body twisting enough to protect her core, to take what’s coming on less damaging areas.
The blow doesn’t come, and neither does a reply from her, either, only quickened steps.
[Joe Holst] For a second the Jarl just watches Maija’s rushing feet, consternation sweeping across his face. He catches up and asks the question her response demands.
“Sah.. who ah ya like.. runnin’ from?”
[Maija] Part of her wants to snap, tell him it ain’t Fenrir business. She aint’ “fambly”, she ain’t no one’s concern. She even opens her mouth to do so, briefly, before snapping her lips closed again. She watches the sidewalk pass under her feet, and since he’s keeping up – and likely will continue to do so, she forces herself to slow before she gets a stitch in her freshly healed torso.
“Family.” He may think that’s all he’ll get at first, and maybe she thinks it’s all he should get. Finally, with a sigh. “My father thought he could beat a change inta me. Started tryin when I was 11. With th’help a several of th’Nation. Been runnin’ since I was 14.” A beat, and then she starts to say something else. And she swallows it back again.
[Joe Holst] One plus one clicks together and finally makes two, and the belligerent kid speaks again. Rude bastard, this Joe guy. He doesn’t dwell much- or apparently, feel much for the fact that she’d been beaten up.. or, figures she’s done all there is to do about that on her own. Unless… yeah this is the one.
“Hey. Yew. Yew weh th’ one what helped Drew.”
[Maija] She don’t expect anyone to dwell much on it. She learned a long time ago she could rely only on herself – and has done as much as she can. Only time will tell if it’s enough. If she shows up dead by hands mostly human – it wasn’t.
He puts together who she is, and her hand automatically goes to her side, wrapping over the scars where she was near torn in half doing so. She took the blows meant for her once she fell, she had Wendy concentrate of helping Drew while she continued to fight as long as she could. She did everything she could until she was felled. There are few who hate the Nation as much as she does – yet still performs what duty demands.
“Yeah. One a’em anyway. Think John finished th’last one of after it got me.”
[Joe Holst] Gentlemanly he isn’t- but Joe grasps the hard truths of having done someone a solid. A debt owed. He nods, somewhere behind her, and comes to a rapid conclusion… and it doesn’t please him.
“Yew uh.. yew know Haddings Wrecker Yard on Elm an’ fourth?” Not far from her home, actually.
[Maija] She nods, slightly, and glances at him. “Yeah. S’where we was when yer girl told me t’go to hell an’ called me a flappin buzzard cuz I ain’t saved her from th’Jarl at th’bonfire – all cuz I invited her t’coffee sometime.”
A beat, and a smirk, before she turns away. It’s clear she is not Drew’s number one fan. “Ain’t but a couple blocks from my place.”
[Maija] (Ack – edit – make that “from Decker at th’bonefire.”
[Joe Holst] Joe waves one hand in a slow, lazy, back and forth sweep. “Yeah, yeah.. dint say she weren’t a bitch sometimes…”
Bright eyes sweep to Maija, then back to the cement, thoughtfully.
“Whul.. if ya pop owah.. like.. anybody.. tinks dey needa gib yew a beatin’ yew aint got comin.. lead ’em dat direction. Den find somewheah ta hide. Me owah one uh mine’ll be aroun’ shortly.” The offer is made almost grudgingly.. but with all the sincerity it needs to have to get the point across.
[Maija] Snorts. “Sometimes?”
But then she drops it, and studies him a moment after his grudgingly given offer. She looks back to the walk before them, then, and nods, slightly. “Yeah, alright.”
Then, with almost as much grudgingly sincerity, she offers in return. “Th’ Family BBQ. I live next door. Ya need anything – hungry or whatever – ya come get me. I’m a pretty decent cook, an’ I kin get leftovers from th’restaurant too. They ain’t kin though, th’owners? So’s hit my place, not th’restaurant proper.” A skinny shoulder lifts in a shrug. “S’gettin colder’n’shit. Sometimes a hot meal’ll solve a world a problems.”
[Joe Holst] Joe cocks an eyebrow and nods slowly as the woman gives a counter- offer. A certain glimmer of thanks- the impression that he might open his mouth and offer one- is about as far as he gets toward gratitude. But few know as well as gnawers the pride that sometimes takes the place of food.
“Shuwah. Like, sometime.”
[Maija] There’s a nod, slight, and her shoulders relax, slightly. Pride often takes the place in food, but oddly enough, a Gnawer hates owing anyone anything too. He offers a safe place t’hide if she needs it, because she fought when she had to. She offers him food in return. It’s what she can give. Ain’t much – she ain’t a trust fund baby, and she works for every nickle, but the offer’s honest enough.
“S’Kemp gonna be runnin’ with ya too? Heard he might.” a beat. “I know it’s ‘family’ – he’s just been cool t’me. S’all.”
[Joe Holst] “Yep!” Joe seems to grow more excited at the prospect.. a certain swelling happens around his chest and shoulders- and a fire that seems fierce and vaguely threatening lights his eyes as he watches the people they pass.
“Gon’ be da boss. Like, obviously. Wheah gonna be badass.”
[Maija] It surprises her, the way he lights up about it. Ok, talk about John = off limits. About Kemp = badass.
Her lips quirk upwards, briefly, in an expression that may some day grow up to be a smile. “Figure ya already badass on ya own, bein Fenrir an’ shit.” It’s almost a tease. Almost. “He walks me home sometimes too. Ain’t gonna be a problem is it? I mean, I’m Gnawer, sure – but I shower regular an shit, an we ain’t fuckin or nothin’.”
[Joe Holst] “Wha- yew mean like Kemp? Walkin’ ya home?” To the rest of what she says, well.. there’s a swagger to the walk of a teenager that has killed things. Grown used to the pass and flush of life and death and the risking of both. What seems heady to him looks more than a little dangerous from the outside.. and the willingness to end life is a thing too easily painted to his form. Much more of that, and he will loose respect for his enemy. Apathy follows.. before long one is a force. Only a thing that destroys.
To her assertation that she showers- Joe seems earnestly surprised. “Wh- yah dew?”
[Maija] She arches a brow slightly. “Yeah. Kemp walks me home sometimes. An’ I cook him dinner. John comes over, too.” Might as well test those waters.
And then he hears something that few people in Chicago have heard. His surprise brings actual laughter to her lips. It’s brief, but it’s there, and somehow it softens her face, it drains a touch of the tension off her form, and she looks almost… pretty. “Yeah, take a sniff. Showered this mornin -jus like I do every day. Sometimes even twice if it’s a hard day at work or I get some gross shit splattered all over me durin some fight. I even put pretty girly smellin lotion on. I do laundry too. AN’ clean m’place, that I work m’ass off t’afford.”
There’s a beat, and a touch of exasperation. “Bein a Gnawer ain’t mean I’m dirty. Any more’n bein Fenrir means ya jus’ a thug, or bein Fianna means ya a drunk an’ nothin more. We’re all somethin’ more. Jus’ gotta be willin’ to see it.”
[Joe Holst] “Whul I dint- ahmean- see…”
Two, maybe three explanations all have a start all at once. Joe’s hands reach to scoop words out of the air as they walk, but he gives up as she laughs- maybe cracks a bit of a self- deprecating smirk.
“Yeah awright.. ‘least we boff know who da asshole is. Look I dint mean nuttin’ by it..” He rushes onward, the words continuing to boil out of him in a quiet Jersey bray.
“An’ hey- whatevah Kemp does ‘is da man’s own bidness. Ahmean.. I’m da boss wheah da Tribe’s concerned. I ain’t a boss uh no Adren dough- not yet… sah.. jus..” Joe’s features twist in something akin to disgust briefly- but at least he turns his face toward the street rather than the woman he’s walking home.
His attention swivels back to Maija heavy with seriousness, with responsibility. “Aint my job ta proteck Kemp.. s’my job ta proteck John, dough. Sah jus.. mind yah mannah’s. An don’ sway ‘im from da troof’s of ‘is blood. Cuz inna end, dat makes us an’ guides us. Da Fenrir need every bit uh it ta win dis war. S’why Great Fenris gab it ta us.”
[Maija] He tries to explain it away, and then just settles on admitting he’s an ass, and she chuckles briefly again. A brow raises when he says he’s the boss now though, but she don’t question it. That’s Fenrir business, and she’s already treading carefully.
He tells her to mind her manners though, and there’s a brief sound that’s likely amusement. Sorta. “I ain’t gonna hurt’im, Joe. M’a skinny ass white girl, in case ya ain’t notice, an’ he’s a big boy.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, her brow furrowed lightly. “I ain’t know what we got goin on, ‘xactly. I know I like’is company. I like that ‘e makes me feel safe, an’ that ain’t somethin’ I’ve had… ever. I ain’t expect’im t’stick round forever – cuz I ain’t ever had no one stick, ever. An’ I ain’t gonna sneak round ya, since ya in charge n’shit. But I ain’t gonna hurt’im, either. An’ I ain’t gonna push’im away. Not when he’s th’best thin’ I got right now.”
[Joe Holst] Joe chews his gum, eyes narrowing as he stares at the woman.. he is silent for a while, mulling over her words, as opposed to accepting them. A block or two later, he’s organized his reply.
“Sah whadaya gonna dew, when ‘is blood pulls ‘im tew a Fenrir?”
[Maija] She’s just as blunt as he is, in her own way.
“Lose’im. Jus like I done lost everythin’ I ever cared ’bout before.” She’s no stranger to loss, to pain. It’s not only written in her reactions, in the way she deals with the rage of others, the way she flinched away from a blow that he telegraphed but didn’t deliver. It’s also written in her flesh, in her bones, in the way a rib didn’t heal correctly, and sits crooked in it’s protection of vital organs, in bones that have been broken more times than most Kin have ever known – hell, more than some Cliath’s have known, all before she turned 15. She’s no stranger to loss, to having everything stripped from her, leaving her bleeding and raw, and broken.
A beat. “An whadaya gonna do, if’is blood ain’t pull him away?”
[Joe Holst] Her answer seems to content him as much as is required. Quite satisfied, a hitch in Joe’s shoulders relaxes, for all that he’d never truly known it was there. His answer is brief, and carries the confidence of iron in it. Absolute certainty.
“It will. S’why Fenris put it deah.” His voice fades, but Joe watches the shorter kin. Gnawer kin. Urrah.. a thing of the cities. Of course, Joe could claim more himself only due to blood.
[Maija] He’s suddenly content, happy that she’d lose something else, someone else, even if it pains her, and can feel the weight of his eyes on her. She doesn’t look up, she doesn’t meet his eyes, not now, because he might see the truth in them, see how certain she is it won’t be a problem anyway.
[“..I’d be a fool to leave” he’d said, and part of her ached with the certainty he’d be a fool to stay. Even if for just a few hours, he makes her feel safe, feel alive again…]
Finally, she settles on a reply. “Yeah, well, ya ain’t gonna find me fuckin’ a trash heap anytime soon, blood an’ rumors an’ prejudice b’damned.”
[Joe Holst] Her bitten off reply gives Joe pause. An eyebrow creeps up his forehead and Maija takes several steps before Joe remembers to keep walking.
“Wha? I say sumpfin?”
[Maija] He stops a minute, and when he catches back up, she still doesn’t answer for a long moment. Finally, the admittance is soft. “S’just… Ya ain’t gotta keep tellin me I ain’t good ’nuff, Joe. I’m well aware a’where I fall in th’eyes of th’nation – was beat’n inta me good’n’proper.”
Skinny shoulders shrug, slightly, and she unfolds her arms, to shove her hands in her pockets, deep. “Ain’t like I hadda damn choice, is it.”
[Joe Holst] Joe chews fiercely on his gum for a minute, something buzzing in the back of his mind.. as the most unlikely pair in the world continue to stomp their way down the street, Joe finally shrugs a bit. Good enough.
“Choice? Fuck dat. Who wants one? Dat jus’ complicates t’ings ta hell an’ back. Ahmean, da rest uh ya… whul…” A grimace sweeps across his face before he continues. “Yah gaht ya uses. I dunno. Maybe. But ah’least yew aint carryin’ da sorta weight meant feh da Sons an’ Daughtah’s of da Wolf. We gahtta smack da rest uh da knuckleheads inta line. If dey don’ smack right, we gatta keep on widdout ’em. Makes t’ings a lot bettah if nobody gotta t’ink abaht it foyst. Jus’ knows ta get in line behin’ us.”
[Maija] “So ya think it’s easy bein’ used, do ya then?” It’s said with another of those soft snorts that’s almost amused. “Someone looks down on ya, and ya jus’ crack they heads t’gether, until they see ya better. But see – I kin crack as many heads t’gether as I please, an I’m still gonna have folks thinkin I ain’t shower regular like, an am only good nuff for th’bum on th’corner t’want.”
She shakes her head, slightly, lifting a hand to push her hair back behind her ear. “I kin work as hard, or harder than all ya precious blood kin – but I ain’t ever gonna be worth nuthin to ya, cuz my blood ain’t Fenrir. I kin even take claws meant for yer girl, an’ I’m still not good ’nuff t’have more than a few hours with a man, cuz his blood is better than mine – an’ ya can’t lie, ya’d rather I ain’t even have them few hours.”
Her lips curl into a brief smirk, because she knows that she’s talking to a True Believer, and anything she says is like beating her head against a brick wall. Willingly. She gestures absently, and shakes her head. “It’s all bullshit.”
[Joe Holst] As she spoke, Joe’s boots had continued to ring against pavement in the same swaggering sort of cadence. His bright, fierce gaze had continued to reinforce the dimly understood feeling in passersby that yes, more room for the mean looking kid is a Very Good Idea. More and more his attention had passed to Maija between looks. Much of what she had to say the boy had found distasteful.. even a bit whiny. Some of it might have sunk a little deeper.
Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t seem easily swayed- and even less likely to admit it if something she said rang true. The ancient ornaments that never leave his body sit heavy against his skin on the very best days, remind him of a past no Holst he’d ever met thought he was good enough for.
Its a lot for a kid, really. Even a murderous one. For a while Joe just glares at the short woman. Angry that she can articulate it so well. Displayed no fear in doing so.
He shakes his shoulders roughly, dashes stony hands deeper into his pockets.. and just thinks for a while.
[Maija] It’s a lot for a kid, and sometimes it’s hard to remember that she’s a kid too. Lived lifetimes more than some, hasn’t suffered as much as others. And she hates to think it might come across as whiny, when she simply wishes to make a point, somewhere in there.
He’d never admit it if she did, and he just glares at her instead, for whatever reason.
Their steps are all that is heard for a while, his stomping, clomping, a bull in a china shop. Her’s softer, lighter, used to seeking out the shadows, to hiding away, to not attracting notice.
“Sorry. Ain’t mean t’sound all preachy n’shit. Ya know what they say ’bout opinions – they’re like assholes- everyone’s got one an’ they all stink.” She shrugs, and lips quirk into a bit of a grin. “Was almost easier when I wasn’t talkin’ to no one, an’ still hidin in th’shadows.”
[Joe Holst] “Agh.” A thick sort of dismissal as the boy waves a hand through the air briefly and sniffs. He wipes his nose with the back of one hand and levels a steady gaze at Maija’s head as the cross Plymoth and continue down 4th street east.
“Ah dew ‘preciate whatcha did feh Drew.”
[Maija] She nods, slightly. “I know.”
They cross, and he watches her, his gaze level and steady. “I’d do it again’ too, ya know. S’just it – that’s all I want. Get t’know me for who I is, an’ what I do, before ya judge me. S’all.”
She puts herself out there for the Nation, a Nation that’s never shown her an inch of empathy, or given her time to breath, or been anything but pain. But she still fights – as duty bound as any Fenrir. As duty bound as he is.
[Joe Holst] Joe’s attention is a flinty and uncomfortable thing.. not at all softened past the admission of appreciation.. and the glow from a streetlight hangs in his eyes. Surreal specks that lend more to the inhumanity his skin hides than the affectation of a man’s form. He stops, and one heel scrapes against cement as he swivels to face her.
“Da Bah- beh- que is righ’ up deah.” Joe jerks his chin up the street before he looks back to Maija. He chews for a second before he continues. “Dew yah bes’. Its all yew can dew. An’ I get dat yah dewin’ it.” He lowers his head slightly and rumbles.
“Effort don’ change one t’ing inta anuddah. Nomoah den sharpenin’ can make a knife ina a Sword.”
He looks up and down the street and his tone is suddenly casual. “See ya aroun’..”
[Maija] Her eyes are dark – dark enough that even the glitter of streetlamp is swallowed into the depths of them. He swivels to face her, and she stops, that tension creeping back into her spine for a moment, two. She meets his eyes, evenly, for a long moment, which is more than some can, and more than many should.
Then she drops them away, as he speaks, and she nods, slightly. “An’ sometimes the knife is th’only tool that’ll do the job, cuz th’Sword is too big n’unwieldy.”
His voice turns casual, as he checks the street, and there’s that odd little quirk at the corner of her lips, briefly. “Yeah, alright. G’night, Joe.”
And with that she turns, and makes her way down the street toward the welcome lights and warmth of her apartment.
[Joe Holst] Maija’s footsteps had grown much quieter- the boy glowering up and down the street and chewing gum. Long after Joe is alone, a Jersey grumble bounces hard and gritty down the street.
“…..Sword tew big an’ unweildly… mah ASS its tew big….. bitch….”
[Maija] (*L* and thassa wrap! Thanks for playing!)