[Joss Lehrer] She’s called a lot of things, Joss – but one thing has always remained constant. She’s weird. Everyone thinks so, even Joss herself. The difference is? She doesn’t care. She is who she is.
The Green is filled with little parks, often in horrible condition, where the children don’t want to play. It’s in one of these where we find our Godi today. She is dressed as she always is, flats, skirts and sweater of darkened earthtones – today with the addition of a scarf due to the chill in the air. Her dreads hang heavily down her back, the wind playing havok with the colorful fabric strips and feathers woven within, as she spins…
No, not just spins – dances. She’s got an earbud in her ear the other hanging around her neck, and simply moves to the beat only she can hear.
[Delmar Meister] Cabrini Green wasn’t known as a nice neighborhood. The people that lived there weren’t nice people. Or at least, that was the image most people had. Images were important. The right image meant a guy like Delmar, a skinny, pale faced little guy, could walk in the toughest of neighborhoods and not be messed with. He wasn’t a font of Rage and violence like other Fenrir. But he knew a thing or two about images.
Joss spins. She dances. Perhaps she snaps her fingers and squeezes her eyes shut with delight. Either way, as she goes about cavorting she’s setting an image as well. The image of a lady too crazy to be messed with. Except, as she takes her eyes off of one spot and comes back, there’s a man standing there that hadn’t been before.
He’s smiling, his face the only thing visible among the dark fabric of his hoody and coat. He stands slightly hunched, as if his shoulders were weighing him down, but he smiles delighted nonetheless, head bobbing with the beat of her motions.
“Yeah….Shake it!”
[Joss Lehrer] She spins, she dances, occasionally a snap, and a twirl that sends her skirts flaring about her thighs, her eyes closed in delight as she spins until she’s dizzy. So much so that when she opens her eyes, and notes Delmar’s presence, along with his head bobbing call, she falls to the ground with a thump, laughing in delight as she flops back in the remaining snow from the fall earlier this week.
She pushes back up to her elbows after a moment to catch her breath, lifts a hand and tugs the earbud out of her ear, and grins over at Delmar. “How long have you been watching?”
[Delmar Meister] He shrugs those shoulders. They drop back low again.
“Long enough to know you’d uhhhhhh….kick my ass in a dance off.”
He takes a step forward; the right leg moves stiffly, and reaches a hand out, presumably to help her up.
“You always uhhhh….do that shit in public places?”
[Joss Lehrer] “Think so? Maybe I’ll do that the next time I’m challenged for something!”
She smiles up at him, and lifts her hand to his, gracefully accepting his hand up, though they both know she doesn’t really need it. Once she’s standing, she retrieves her hand and brushes the snow from her skirts and shoulders.
Does she do it in public places… “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
[Delmar Meister] “Uuhhh…I dunno. Somebody might uhh…steal your moves?” That’s said with a grin. After helping her up Delmar’s hands disappear in his coat sleeves somewhere.
“I guess you aint uhh…modest.”
[Joss Lehrer] She tips her head, looking at him thoughtfully, before she laughs. “They might, though they’d be pretty silly to do so. I have this feeling I look like a flopping fish with my white girl moves…” She reaches into her pocket and hits pause on her ipod – which despite the suggestion of the darkness of her clothing, is bright ass pink – and tucks it back into her pocket, her earphone following after she wraps them up.
“Nope. I’ve never had much of a problem with modesty.” She shrugs, and chuckles. “I get just as many odd looks playing tag with the unseen. Maybe more…”
[Delmar Meister] “Playin tag with…. Uhhhh….okay. I think I better not ask.”
He tosses his head back slightly, not looking at the sky but at the tall buildings around them.
“So uhhh…How come you’re out here all uhhhhh….all alone?”
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs, pushes her dreads back over her shoulder. “You can ask anything you like.” A beat. “I saw you at the Moot, though I don’t think we’ve actually met. I’m Joss.”
She moves over to the nearby swing, and settles to sit, setting it in motion with her toe gently, watching him. “I like to walk, and work with the Spirits in different places in the city. This is close to Eagle Territory, though, so more familiar than most. It keeps me connected to those we seek to aid, and who we hope will aid us.”
[Delmar Meister] “Delmar.” He offers in response. He takes a stiff legged walk with her, heading toward the swings and leaning rather than sitting. He fusses with his coat a bit and pulls out a bottle, a quart of Peach Schnapps. He unscrews the cap and offers it to Joss first.
“You’re uhhhh…Godi. Theurge elder. Not uhhh…not bad. I was supposed to go up against uhhhhh….Kemp. Rotagar against rotagar. But uhhhhh…along came the wildcard and…well, I know when I’m uhhhhhh….when I’m outmachted.”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, and grins, taking the bottle and sniffing at it briefly, before taking an experimental swig. After she swallows, her smile warms and she takes a longer swallow, and hands the bottle back. “S’good!” She’s clearly never had more than a beer of four. And Irish Whiskey – James is a bad influence.
“That’s me, the one and only.” She chuckles as he mentions Kemp and nods. “Kemp will do well – he’s been around forever. Though I’d recommend never letting an assumption of being outmatched cause you to step down. You may think of something they have not, or show them a trick they’ve not yet learned. Part of the reasoning behind a challenge is to push the winner to greater success.”
[Delmar Meister] “I’ll uhhhhh….remember that. Next time. This time it was uhhhhh…the right move. I had nothing.”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods with a grin. “It happens. I’m sure you’ll challenge again someday. We all do.” She shrugs slightly. “I was frowned on when I didn’t stand up to challenge my first moot here. I felt I wasn’t ready, though, as I’d only been here a couple weeks at the time. I challenged immediately the following time and won. All things happen when they are supposed to.”
[Delmar Meister] “Eeey!” He says impressed as he takes back the bottle. “That some of that uhhh…Godi Elder wisdom? Usually that stuff is uhhhhh….pretty expensive. What’s that little uhhhhh…gem gonna cost me?”
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs and when he takes the bottle back, she kicks the swing into motion, slowly, but more so than before. Sometimes it’s really hard to believe she’s 18. And Fostern. Other times it’s hard to believe she’s so young – with Godi wisdom to be handed out, and such.
“That one’s on the house. You’ll find that most things with me are. I like to help when I can – and it seems ridiculous to ask for payment every time you chat with someone, don’t you think? I just like to talk. If someone finds wisdom in the words I use, all the better.”
[Delmar Meister] “Aww fuck. If I was you I’d uhhhhhh…be chargin’ by the hour. Shit if you want I can uhhhh…manage it for you. Schedule it by uuhhhhh…by appointment.”
He takes a large, long swig from his own bottle, smiling as he chokes it back, then sucking air over his tongue.
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs with delight at the prospect, and lets her feet skid against the ground to bring the swing to a stop again.
“Think that would be lucrative? I could always use some extra cash, especially with Christmas coming. I just don’t know if my advice is worth all that.”
[Delmar Meister] “Way I see it uhhhh….most people don’t know what they’re buyin’ anyway.”
He stirs uncomfortably, swirling the colored liquid in the bottle.
“You uhhhh…you smoke, Joss?”
[Joss Lehrer] “Good point.”
He asks if she smokes, and she grins at him. “Cigarettes? No… but I’ve been known to take a hit of weed now and again.”
After all, she IS a Godi. Awakened weed is Godi 101.
[Delmar Meister] He grins wide. Wide and slender and bright. Like her moon.
“You got any?”
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs and pulls her Godi bag around to the front, and starts to dig into the depths of it. There’s no telling what’s in the messenger style bag – it’s probably best not to ask. Especially when she pulls out a tin and peeks inside to see if it’s the right one, only to find something that looks suspiciously like dried up eyeballs.
Gross.
She closes it again, and finally comes up with the right tin, and opens it and inhales deeply. “Oh yeaaaaaaaaaaaah. You prefer a J or pipe?” She pulls out a small, pretty (PINK!) pipe, and a pack of rolling papers. His choice.
[Delmar Meister] Delmar nods, impressed by both tins. Joss asks if he prefers rolled or a pipe and he begins to consider at first. Then he spots the pipe.
“Uhhhhhh….I’m not smokin’ from that uhhhh….that thing.”
[Joss Lehrer] She arches a brow, and laughs. “Aw, it’s just a color… they say only a real man can endure pink, though…”
It’s clear she’s teasing, of course as she tucks it back into the tin, and with a grin, goes about rolling a Joint for the two of them to share.
[Delmar Meister] “They say that? Uhhhh…really?”
He leans forward and spits. But pensively so.
“Shit. Guess my uhhh…Daddy was right.”
[Joss Lehrer] She shakes her head, laughing. “Nah. I only tell folks that when they go EW PINK! You think that’s bad? You should see my cell phone.”
She winks at him, and runs the edge of the paper across her tongue and smooths it closed with nimble fingers. “You gotta lighter?” If not, she’ll start the search through her bag again.
[Delmar Meister] “Uhhhhh…”
Which, it seemed was as much of a reply as any since he immediately starts patting at himself. Eventually he wips out a plain black bic. He stands, feeling for where the wind was coming from, and turning his back to it before producing a flame for Joss.
[Joss Lehrer] She grins at him, and leans forward as he produces flame, touching the end of the join to it, alighting the J with practiced ease. She inhales and exhales the first harsh bit quickly, before she takes a deeper inhale and holds, passing the J to Delmar afterwards.
She kicks the swing into slow motion once again, just rocking back and forth, until she finally exhales slowly with a pleased sigh.
[Delmar Meister] He takes it gingerly between his fingers and, still hunched, he draws slow and long, letting the glowing end creep its way backward. And while he does so, he straightens. His shoulders rise and his back un-bends, and Delmar stands a few inches taller with his chest puffed out. With lungs filled, he passes the joint back to her.
He’s still holding it when he steps aside stiffly. And that inspires him to reach under his coat at his right leg. With a bit of a tug he’s pulled away…what looks like a piece of rebar an inch thick. On the end of it is a heavy looking blunt end. On the opposite end of that, a vicious spike. The entire thing is about the length of his arm.
Delmar exhales abruptly before speaking.
“Uhhhhh…See this? This is mine. Only uhhhh…it aint mine.”
He leans back on the frame of the swing set, swinging the hammer in front of him.
“Only it is mine.”
[Joss Lehrer] She takes the J back, and watches him pull free the hammer, and tips her head slightly. “It isn’t, but it is? Is that some of your Rotegar Trickery?”
She grins, clearly teasing him, as she lifts the Joint to her lips and takes a looooooong drag, filling her lungs as her eyes close briefly. She holds, and hands it back, while she watches him swing the hammer, brow arched curiously.
[Delmar Meister] “It is actually but uhhhh….”
Delmar lets that bit stall out, taking the joint again and taking another, albeit a lot more moderate, pull. He lets the smoke drift before sucking it back into his lungs.
“So uhhhh…This is my grandfather’s hammer. He passed it down to his son. And my dad was supposed to pass it to his son.”
[Joss Lehrer] She leans sideways, her shoulder braced by the chain of the swing as she rocks slowly back and forth. She exhales slowly as she watches him, and if he offers her the J again, she waves it off, and lets him keep the rest.
She’s comfortably fuzzy, warm, already.
“Ah, I see. Your dad didn’t hand it down to you, then?”
[Delmar Meister] “Nah. My dad had two sons. And my baby brother? He’s uhhh…Seven foot somethin’.”
Delmar shrugged, as if that explained everything. He took another meditative draw from the joint. Already it was down to almost nothing.
“You got any brothers? Sisters?”
[Joss Lehrer] She arches a brow slightly. “And?” There’s more to the story – there always is. But she won’t press it any farther, if he doesn’t want to continue with it.
She smiles and shakes her head. “Just me. My parents still reside at Storm Hammer. They knew what I would be, and trained me from birth to be ready. I knew the phases of the moon before I knew my letters, and the Auspices to match. I changed earlier than they thought I would, but it was without bloodshed on my part, controlled well by those around me. I’ve never seen my father so proud as the day I achieved Fostern.”
She loves her family, that much is clear.
[Delmar Meister] “Badass…” Delmar says in a low but impressed voice. He glances at the hammer again.
“Oh. Well. Pops gave it to him, I uhhh…kicked his ass and took it back.”
[Joss Lehrer] She smiles and shrugs, a little, gripping the chains of the swing and leaning back, watching the sky as the momentum starts the wing in motion once more.
“Good for you. I should think that means it’s yours after all.” A beat. “Is your brother kin or True?”
[Delmar Meister] “Yeah. I uhhh…had to leave town after that. But it was worth it.”
There’s a weird, sound. Quick, ginger breaths as he tries to get the last bit of smoke out of the joint, burning his gingers in the process. Delmar whispers curses as he stamps the glowing end out.
“True. Modi. Fucker.”
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs softly, and nods. “As long as it was worth it.” He mentions that his 7 foot tall brother is Modi, and she whistles low and long. “Impressive.”
She arches a brow as he burns his fingers, but figures he’s a big boy, he can handle it. She keeps swinging slowly. “I have a dagger that my Father made for me after my Firsting. It’s not a fetish or anything, but I use it for all Rituals in honor of him.”
[Delmar Meister] “I knock uhhhh…knock out fuckers that are bigger than me with this” He says, raising the hammer. “In honor of my grandfather. Now…Now I’m here…and I’m…a Bogey Man.”
He shakes his head, leaning back further on the swing set frame.
“Didn’t see that one coming.”
[Joss Lehrer] She arches a brow. “With Edwin? Interesting…” She doesn’t seem to think it’s odd or weird, simply as she said – interesting.
“Bunch of sneaky bastards, but alright. We need them just as much as we need my sort, your sort, each of us. We all have something to offer.”
[Delmar Meister] “I aint a bastard.” He says softly and shoulders the hammer, staring at her flatly for a while. That seemed to be something he took seriously.
“Can’t talk for the others though.”
[Curata] It’s a change. One that he isn’t accustomed to just yet. The sensation of pack overwhelms the Fianna as he can feel the presence of his new family in the area. The ahroun’s tall image not hard to pluck out as he cross the small park, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather bomber jacket. Black hair brushed back from his face to keep it out of his eyes as he draws closer to the playground.
His eyes cut across the yard, spying the pair of Fenrir conversing.
[Joss Lehrer] She studies him for a long moment, and smiles “I didn’t mean any offense, Delmar. It’s simple a figure of speech. I’ll remember in the future.”
Her apology offered, it’s up to him to accept it. She feels the tug of Pack, and turns to see the tall form of Curata across the way. She lifts a hand and waves, with a grin – genuinely happy to see him.
[Delmar Meister] Delmar shrugs, his way of deciding to call the whole thing off.
“Soooo… hey. Who’s the big guy?”
[Curata] “I should ask who the runt is.” His voice flavored by a Scottish brogue, places him as a non-native. He looks to Joss first, seeing her face light up with happiness before swinging his gaze back to Delmar. He comes to a halt near Joss, glancing down at the smaller girl with dreads and smirks.
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs at them both. The smell of weed is still pungent around them, though she seems simply the same Goofy Godi as she always is – maybe a touch more mellow due to the awakened marijuana.
“The big lug is Curata – Fianna Ahroun, and newest Eagle. And the runt” said with a chuckle and shake of her head. “Is Delmar – Rotegar.”
[Delmar Meister] “The runt…” He says with a goofy smile. “Is called Delmar.” And oddly enough, that’s the first thing he’s said all night without stalling. The weed must be working.
“How bout you?”
[Curata] “Pain in m’arse, gal.” His voice rumbles out in a soft growling tone at Joss, pulling a hand from his pocket to stretch it out and rest atop her head, tousling her dreads so they fall into her eyes. He shakes his head at them, his nostrils flaring out to breath in the pungent stench of the weed.
This drew up a quizzical expression over his eyes as he glanced back over a shoulder and then to them. “Curata the Grim Heart, son o stag and fostern full moon,” glowering a bit at the Godi, “I can introduce m’self ye know.”
[Joss Lehrer] “HEY!” She protests, laughing, as he messes with her dreads.
She pushes them back and sticks her tongue out at him. “He asked me before you quite got here, that’s all.” It’s said with a mock pout, that she can’t even keep up for longer than a second or two without laughing.
“We sorta finished the J before you got here – but I got more if you want one.” A beat. “Awakened, of course.”
[Delmar Meister] “Shiiiiiiit.” Delmar announces low. Stuck between two fosterns.
“Yall don’t mess around, huh? Big booys. Big guuns.”
He grins, tossing the hammer once and catching it on the other end, then pantomiming a machine gun mow-down.
“Eagles. Bad ass.”
[Curata] Curata shakes his head at the offer, wrinkling up his nose. “Nay, thanks,” he refuses the offer of the weed.
Folding his arms over his barrel chest, leather creaks as his arms cross. He eyes the hammer in Delmar’s hand, “Rather fancy hammer ye got there, lad.” he nods to the weapon Delmar uses to pantomime a machine gun mow-down, grinning a little.
[Joss Lehrer] “Course not.” She says, primly. “Only the best for the Eagles.”
There’s a shadow through her gaze though, but it clears soon enough. Curata likely felt it more than either of them saw it, but he knows well how she feels about recent events. At least now, she is calmer for having him at her side, much as she was with Evan. The flighty Godi needs a steadying hand at times, and more often than not, it comes in the form of a strong older male in her pack.
But then she grins, and leans her shoulder against the swingset chain again, comfortably slouched. She’s clearly mellowed out, and feeling the effects of the marijuana.
[Delmar Meister] “Yeeaahh!” He exclaims with a no small amount of lethargy. “You like? Closest thing I got to uhhhh…family jewels.”
He says that last bit with a grin, even as he closed his eyes and stretched his neck out. Finally he stands.
“Think I been in one place for long enough. Nice meeting you folks though. And thanks for the uhhh…smoke.”
[Curata] “That’s an interesting way o calling it.” Family jewels.
Curata tips his head in a quick nod to Delmar, “Take it easy, then.” He takes a step closer to the swing set, moving between the swings to stand closer to Joss as he casts a sideways glance to her, and then back to Delmar.
He speaks very little tonight, which is rather uncommon for him.
[Joss Lehrer] “Later Delmar.”
She waves, and after he goes, she wraps her fingers around the chain of her swing as Curata come to stand between them, and leans backwards, looking up at him with a smile as the momentum swings her gently forward.
“You’re quiet, t’night. Everything alright?”
Sometimes it’s very hard to remember she’s a Fostern, isn’t it?
[Curata] “Shock ‘asn’t worn off yet.”
He watches Delmar go, his head tilting up as he scans the swing set, following the lines of it structure and determining how sturdy it might be. He stretches his arms up above his head, fingers splayed out as he tries to reach the top of the bar, it was just barely out of his reach.
Curata braces his legs apart, bending at the knees as he continues to stare up at the top bar that the chains hung from. When he was confident enough, Joss will see the ahroun gather himself up and jump straight up with ease. Large calloused hands gripping the top bar of the swing set, causing it to shake under his weight as he hung there, staring down at her.
“Ran Vanguard wi’ the Eagles at the Caern raising, never thought I’d be one o them, ye know?” His legs kick out, swinging back and forth as he adjusts his grip and hangs there.
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs softly as she watches him jump up and grab the bar. She continues to swing, slow and easy, much as she feels right now. “I felt the same way. Since the first time I saw the Eagles roll up to Storm Hammer two years ago, all I ever wanted to be was one of them. Never thought it’d happen.”
She pauses, and then sighs a little. “It hasn’t been exactly like I dreamed, but I still wouldn’t give it up for anything.”
A beat. “Tell me about it? The Caern Rising, I mean?”
[Gina McClaren] *Its late, and freezing. The Agency didn’t like girls going out to calls too late in the evening, as it set a standard of “impropriety” with the clients. But Gina’d crooned her way into every late night spot she could con lately, trying to make up what she’d lost the old fashioned way. No. Not whoring. But by the sweat of her brow. She’s wrapped up doubly tight in a faded olive trench, a duffle bag at her shoulder, a long sweater hugging her curves. Boots crunch on dead leaves as she makes her way through the park, wary. Her jingling proceeding her as her little form gets slowly larger in the distance. Steps falling more slowly as she sees full grown figures loitering at the playground.*
…Allo?
[Curata] “Things are never as we dream them, lass,” he replies, his words drawn out with each puff of warm breath he makes, it runs out of his mouth and nose like steam, condensing heavily on the cool air. He continues to swing his legs up, kicking them higher as he tries to pull himself up on the bar, it takes a few tries and then Curata manages to pull his chin up to the bar. Muscles bulge and flex under his jacket as he uses his great strength to keep himself up, working almost like a gymnast on the swing set’s upper bar that was welded to the frame.
When he gathers his arms beneath him, he pushed himself above it until his belly rests against it and swung a leg over to sit. He glances down at Joss from the tallest point of the swing set, grinning down at her. “Perhaps another night.”
Curata’s nostrils flare out, snorting softly at the jingle of bells. He lifts a black eyebrow in Gina’s direction, catching her scent and the sensation of her pedigree… another look to Joss and then he calls out to her in Gaelic. “By the swing set, pikey.”
[Joss Lehrer] She nods, with a sigh, and watches as he works his way to the top of the bar, wrapping her arms around the chains so that she can applaud his efforts with a grin. “Another night, then. I won’t forget, you know.”
She starts to swing, higher and higher, even as he calls out to Gina in the distance. Before she was just playing, keeping low to the ground, but now? Now she works to get the swing as high as she possibly can.
Softly… “…what’s a Pikey, anyway?”
[Gina McClaren] *Impressive climbing has her tilting her head, hair falling over her shoulder in a thick messy braid. The little Indian woman smiles at the familiar roll and rasp of Gaelic, drawing closer and offering a tired grin to Joss and up to Curata in turn. Steam coiling from between her lips as she teases half heartedly.*
Hmmm. Reckon ah dinnae speak Gaelic darlin. Ah try tae keep et tae the royal hag’s english most o’ tha lemon. Wha’s thes than?
*She gestures to the Fianna’s perch with a clink of charms.*
Aren’t ye tall enough aulready?
*Joss’s high-spirited swinging gets her attention as much as her question, Gina shaking her head with a rueful grin to the man above them.*
Gypos darlin. Tinkies en tha san’s. Travellen folk. We’ve a bad reputuation reckon, Though reckon et depend’s on who ye ask….
[Curata] [gift activate, spear dancing -1 diff for perfect balance]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) [WP]
[Curata] “Not tall enough.”
Curata calls down from the top of the swing set, now he seems to be showing off as he looks down at the women. The steel bar was cold under his the rough palms of his hands, slippery and thin, but it doesn’t deter him from what he plans to do next. Joss continues to swing under him, sliding in and out of his peripheral as Curata slowly maneuvers his way over the steel bar, continuing to have that athleticism that shouldn’t be capable in a man his size.
He calls upon a Fianna trick, chuckling, as he gathers his legs underneath him and stands up up on the bar, legs braced apart as he manages to keep his balance perfectly. He cups his hands over his mouth and howls down to Gina and Joss.
“Yanks would best know them as Gypsies. Pikeys are the English version ye can say.” Gina was already explaining it while he was toying around on the swing set like an over-sized monkey.
“Wha’ brings ye out ‘ere, Gina, and dressed like that for?”
[Joss Lehrer] She drags her feet along the ground to stop as she gapes up at Curata treating the bar like it’s a runway, standing and howling at them with perfect balance. “How do you DO that?!”
She’s graceful in her own right, but nowhere near THAT balanced. She’d fall and crack her fool head open. Then they’re explaining the word piky toward her, and she grins at Gina “A real gypsy! Like fortune tellers and everything?!” Clearly she’s only seen them on TV.
[Gina McClaren] Jaysus fuckin christ darlin.. Good theng ye’ve Joss ‘ere.. yer jes askin tae crack yer skull wi’ yer showboatin.
*Gina singsongs, tone impressed despite her sentiments to the contrary. Her smile grows a shade less bitter as she looks up at the Fianna in all his grace and glory. A tinkle as her fingers come up to work her braid out of her hair, answering Curata before adressing joss and claiming the other swing… carefully, so as not to bounce the man above her and the dread-locked godi.*
Jes came frem work darlin. An aye, reckon we’ve tauld a fortune oor tae. Ah couldnae ever gi’ a feel fer et though. Ah’ll dance the cooch, whore, oor steal frem a folk fair an proper, but lyin about a folks future… well, reckon et leaves me feelin a shade dirtier when ah’m done. Aye?
*Gina shrugs to Joss, as though trying to get the afore mentioned feeling off, a face made in emphasis.*
[Curata] Curata throws his head back, barking in laughter, his voice sound rich and deep as its flavored by his accent. It is the first time Joss has heard him laugh this way, and possibly months since Gina has seen him react as such.
“Fianna trickery, m’darlings,” he wiggles his eyebrows down at them, turning his head away as he scans the park with the new perch.
Gina takes to the swing below him, and he turns away from them, starting to walk down the length of the ice-covered bar carefully. His arms spread out to help him retain his balance. He calls down to the girls, “There’s an old Fiann trick been round for ages, called Spear Dancing. It allows one to manipulate their ability to keep perfect balance. Warriors, in battle, would leap over the grounds of soldiers and jump from spear point to spear point wi’out falling or getting impaled.”
“It’s rather fun trick to show off to non-Fianna girls.”
[Joss Lehrer] He laughs, and it brings an answering smile to her face – a smile she aims his way, even as she shakes her head slightly at Gina. “Well color me impressed! Don’t suppose you can teach it to a Fenrir girl to impress all the “lads” with, can ya?”
She grins at Gina, as she talks of fortune telling, and why she doesn’t like it. “I’ve never met a real life Gypsy before. Sorry if my questions were rude. I just finished carving my runes, so they’re ready for my first castings.” She says it with a quiet pride. “It took me 4 hours to make them perfect.”
[Gina McClaren] *A soft, tired grin as the cocky fianna laughs. She watches him a moment, features cast in half-guilty pleasure before turning to Joss once more. *
Och, nae rude darlin. Sae wha’s thes aboot runes? Truth tauld, ah reckon ah’ve been hankerin tae meet ye proper like ever sence ah saw ye dancin wi – Jaysus! Darlin, trick oor nae yer gi’en a pikey heart failure Curata!
*She can’t help but hiss through her teeth and cringe as a thin chunk of ice slips off the swingset and plummets to the sandbox below.*
Fook me, we’re both impressed. now.. mayhaps? .. Impress me on tha bloody ground peaches?
*Gina crows, eyes snapping upwards as Curata passes overhead.
[Curata] The ahroun snorts softly as Gina crows at him, his chest swells up and he tilts his chin a notch higher, staring down at the pair. Given the faint purebreed running through his veins, it would be easy to imagine Curata as something other than a man clad in leather and denim, standing tall and proud with a spear in hand and a tartan worn across his chest, prepped for battle.
He pauses at the edge of the bar, gauging the distance between it and the ground, Curata takes the leap of faith, dropping down from the swing set to land in a crouch on the soft sand. His knees bend, hands flat with the fingers splayed out as to absorb the shock thrumming through his body. He waits for it to pass, slowly straightening up and dusts off his hands. He starts to make his way over to Joss and Gina, coming up behind them.
A hand shoots out to grab the chains on Gina’s swing, and then the other, pulling it back with her in it as far as he can before letting her go with a sound push. “Since when ye cluck yer tongue at me, McClaren like a fishmonger’s wife, eh?”
[Joss Lehrer] Since she saw her dancing with… her eyes widen, and she grins as she swings a bit. “Caught me dancin’ with the Spirits, did ya?” she laughs, delightedly. “I do that a lot. Sometimes on my own too. Was dancing here earlier – but just by myself. ”
She applauds Curata’s dismount and and then holds up both hands “And he STICKS the landing! I give it a perfect 10!”
As he comes over, she smiles at Gina. “I’m Joss, by the way. And my Runes are for casting in Ritual. Sometimes the Spirits give help in letting the caster know what may be coming down the line, a bit of a future telling. I’ll show them to you if you like?”
[Gina McClaren] *Gina had gone ashen upon the ahroun’s sudden motion, but before she can react, the garou has swiftly drawn her back and left her sailing high on her swing. His motions too quick, little left for the small kin to do but gasp sharply and hold tight to the chains, charms jingling madly, long hair fanning behind her. Once she’s recovered from her shock she laughs. Not so raucous a sound as she’d been known for once upon a time in the brotherhood, but a short merry bark of laughter that delights the ear, however brief. Booted feet drag in an attempt to slow her, and she singsongs teasingly.*
Reckon ah aulway’s ‘ave, Curata loves. Tha’s why yer sae sincerely fond o me.
Sae..ye really can tell tha future than Joss-loves? Spirits kain tha sort o theng?
[Curata] Joss was the next victim to get pulled on the swing, Curata moving up behind her. He bends down to grab the bottom of her seat, goosing the Godi on the ass, before he pulls her swing all the way back, high up over his head and immediately shoves Joss forward using all of his strength to help her build up momentum.
He steps back so she doesn’t clock him on the back lift and gives Gina another push, content and quiet to listen to them chat about fortunes.
[Joss Lehrer] She shakes her head, slightly, though its with a smile. “Not exactleeEEEEEEEEEEE!” The last is with a squeal as Curata pushes her with all his might, and she lets herself float with the movement, her skirts flaring, her dreads flying – the entirety of it all giving her a pure moment of freedom. It’s memories of being a kid, of not having a car in the world, no war, no death, no heartache… just feet reaching for the sky, and the laughter of innocence.
It’s magic.
After she gets her breath, she grins at Gina as they swing. “It’s more like a warnin’ system, really, not exactly future tellin. They’ll help if there’s something coming near, or interpreting dreams, that sort of thing.”
[Gina McClaren] [dun break nothin]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Gina McClaren] Sae ets nae precise.. hazy like thaaa – *Gina’s listening intently, head tilted, feet dragging her slower and slower – until Suddenly she’s sailing high again, white knuckled and laughing as she tries and nearly fails a flying dismount, landing in a cloud of sand and long hair. A melodramatic sigh and she flops back on the cold ground, offering a rueful shake of her head, and pointing a finger in mock accusation.*
Nae sae fond o heights, chancer.
[Curata] Curata laughs at Gina, watching her make the stumbling dismount off of the swing. He gives Joss another hard push to send her flying again, letting her bask in the childish euphoria she was feeling at that moment, and slips past the swings to walk over to Gina.
He bends, extending out his hand, palm up, to the little caramel kinfolk, waiting to hoist her up to her feet and brush the sand off her clothes.
[Joss Lehrer] She squeals again as he pushes her one last time, her laughing free and full of the innocence she’s rarely had time to feel since she’d firsted, since she ranked, and certainly not since she came to Chicago.
She lets the swing slow down, and watches as Curata helps Gina up, her smile genuine as she nods. “Hazy, yeah. Sometimes it doesn’t mean anything, sometimes it means everything – but mostly, it’s just a confirmation of a feeling.”
[Gina McClaren] *A thin cheery metallic clinking as the pikey slips a sandy hand into the Fianna’s, giving a token tug at him, as though she had any chance in hell of jerking him off his feet. Still, she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t at least make the attempt, conceding to simply be helped up, Joss’s innocent laughter resounding in her ears. Her own sigh puffs visibly in the chill air, tall scotsman getting a dark eyebrow raised in jest as he brushes sand off her curvy form. A quirk of a smile, and a bump of her hip, before she moves towards Joss. Voice drifting soft and soothing between then. Wistful.*
Must be nice, ne’er bein alone loves.
[Curata] Curata dusts off his hands, lowering his gaze to watch Gina has she walks towards Joss. “Ye’re only alone cuz ye want to be, Gina, I’m sure ye coud be ‘appy wi’ someone if’n ye bloody allowed a man to stay wi’ ye longer than a one night turn in the sheets, woman.”
[Joss Lehrer] She skids to a stop, and leans her shoulder against the chain and grins at Gina. “Most times. Other times its a pain in the ass.”
She sighs softly, and smiles at Gina. “It gets lonely for me, too. I have them up here?” Taps her head. “But I don’t have anyone to curl up with at night, either. Most are scared of me.”
She sticks her tongue out at Curata. “And someones a girl just wants a turn in the sheets.” a beat, and a sheepish grin. “I assume, anyway.”
[Gina McClaren] Och ye fo-*Gina’s half turned, eyes flaring to life with anger, mouth opened to snap something rather impertinent and likely unwise at the Fianna in front of her, when Joss begins, and she’s obliged to listen. A snort and a nod in sympathy.*
Hard fer a kin felly tae be the one needen protected, reckon. Esnae a man’s nature tae stan’ behind a woman an ye – *She scowls at Curata, eyes flicking up to meet his, steely.*- need tae stop bletherin on aboot thengs ye dinnae kain shite aboot. Ah dinnae see ye oor naewan else signin oop fer tha job. Sae, fookin.. leave et be.
*A sigh as she pushes at her hair angrily, and plops down into a swing.*
[Curata] Curata blinks, and begins to feign surprise as he looks over Gina’s head at Joss and then back to the little Strider getting saucy with him. He barks out with another round of laughter and shakes his head at her.
“Why, Miss, McClaren, are ye tellin’ a man o the likes o me that ye want to sign up for bloody double-occupancy wi’ me?” He sidles up behind her, reaching out to poke at Gina’s side.
“If’n I remember correctly, darling, ye told me once ye didn’t want to settle down wi’ just any one man, unless that’s changed now and ye are fishing for a suitable mate.”
[Joss Lehrer] She laughs softly. “I dunno. Not a lot of Fenrir boys around here for me to even chose from.”
There’s a shadow there, through her eyes – shadow of memory. But she hides it in the tuck of her head, and the grin as Curata teases Gina. “Oooooh! If ya snag him, Gina, can I be your flower girl?”
[Gina McClaren] Och, Bollox. *Gina twitches away, swatting at Curata’s hand with her own, head ducked. She’d not sure whether to blush and laugh or be furious, and so the half frozen owlkin does both, huffing hot steam out of her nostrils and pinking under caramel skin. She smirks, voice threaded with teasing sarcasm and self deprecation.*
Aye loves. Weddings en spring. We expect presents. Fookin christ.
*An exasperated shake of her head again, pikey waving her hand dismissively.*
Nae Nae, jes, reckon ah’d nae mind a folk wantin’ more than a damned shag. Seems tae aboot end there wi’ most folks though, reckon. Tha’s aul. Christ.
[Curata] Seeing her exasperation, it feeds the Ahroun’s playful trickster demeanor. He lunges after Gina as she swats after her, reaching for the little caramel kin that was about a foot shorter than him. A hand grasps gently around her wrist, catching the hand that swats at him. He pulls her back, spinning Gina on her heels, sending up a happy protest from her bells and bracelets.
“Foine then, Joss, warm up the van and lets go find us a preacher.”
He bends down low, sweeping forward to scoop Gina up and toss her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and straightens up. A hand planted firmly on the kin’s back side, playfully slapping it.
“Seems ye gone soft since ye been ‘ere, Gina, ye dinnae want anything to do wi’ relationships a few months ago…” he croons at her.
[Joss Lehrer] “Yay! I love weddings!” She’s as bad as Curata, sometimes. He scoops upGina and tells her to warm up the Van, and Joss hopes up and starts digging with her keys. “Althea will be pleased to be invited! Where do you find a preacher this late?”
She wrinkles her nose, as if seriously contemplating this, tucking her dreads back over her shoulder out of the way as she continues to dig through her bag. “Cleansing stuff, plastic toys, moonglows, runes, dried eyeballs, AH! Keys!” She holds them up triumphantly.
[….dried eyeballs?!?]
[Gina McClaren] Och fookin Hell! *Gina`s pinched and scooped, responding with a squawk and a chipper jingle of jewelry, her ass slapped as she wriggles on the Scot`s shoulder, long hair brushing down his back.*
Fookin Christ! *Continues the profanity, but now its laced with laughter, hands clinging for purchase as she squirms.*
Gone soft… Always been soft. Jes never stayed en wan place long enough fer the luxury o – Eyeballs?!?
*Gina reaches a hand for Joss, as though to catch her and make sure that she heard the woman correctly.*
[Curata] Curata stares at Joss, narrowing bright blue eyes at her briefly as she starts to go through her bag. His shoulders shudder underneath Gina, keeping her securely positioned over his shoulder. He glances at her and then Joss, murmuring to himself.
“Ye ‘ave earplugs right, Joss?”
The corners of his mouth peel up into a wide rakish grin, considering on taking Gina home with him as he wiggles his eyebrows at the Godi.
[Joss Lehrer] She hadn’t realized she said it out loud, to be honest, but she grins widely at Gina. “Yeah! Wanna see ’em? They’re from this gross fomori dog and girl I fought with some fang… Keith, yeah that was his name a week or so ago. You see, often great Warriors would collect and eat the eyes of their enemy so that they learn their secrets an become stronger and well, I don’t want to get THAT strong, but if you collect them, then the Spirits will see them and makes the assholes think twice about guttin ya when your wearing a string of their buddies eyeballs.”
And yes, she states it as if that’s a perfectly natural thing to do. Because to her, it is.
[She looks so innocent…]
“An ancient Godi told me about it.” Then Curata mentions earplugs, and she laughs and nods. “I’ll turn my iPod up nice and loud, so that I can’t hear her squeelin atcha… you did pick the room with the double bed, right?”
Poor Gina…
[Gina McClaren] What! ONE! Eyeballs are gross darlin. TAE! *She pounds a small fist with a solid meaty thunk on a Fianna`s back, laughing and shaking her head.* we`re shaggin now are we?
An three..AH DINNAE SQUEAL FIANNA! Ah`m nae a fookin -Och jaysus ye great brute, jer shoulders.. ACH! ..Ah`m gintae bite ye, ah swear et!
[Curata] The Fianna doesn’t seem to be relinquishing his hold on Gina any time soon. He runs a hand over his jaw, scratching blunt nails under his chin in thought as he considers an idea that begins to formulate in the back of his mind. He looks between the two women, flaring nostrils out sniffling.
“Joss, there’s no kin stayin at the one pack ‘ouse is there?”
Angling his head, he regards Gina thoughtfully, “Where ye stayin’ nowadays?” He starts laughing, continuing to carry Gina over his shoulder as he starts walking away, waiting for Joss to tag along, “Ye are coming ‘ome wi’ me tonight, Pikey,” his voice rumbles out in a low husky growl, “Gitcha a place to clean up and shite and the bed’s been to bloody cold wi’ out a female arounds.”
He tosses Joss a teasing glance, “Joss refuses to ‘elp me warm it up.”
[Joss Lehrer] And tag along she does, although she rolls her eyes at the last bit. “I swear, Ya show a guy your spirit drum, and he instantly wants ya to warm his bed. Too bad for YOU, I’m a good girl.” She sniffs, haughtily, though her gaze dances with mirth as she does so.
“And no, no kin at the house currently, plenty of room for Gina. Especially as I doubt you’ll be letting her see the light of day until the honeymoons over at least… and no one cooks anymore since Ran…dy left….”
[Keep smiling, Godi.]
“I’m a TERRIBLE cook, ask him!”
Playing right along Joss is, even if she has to take two steps to every one of Curata’s just to keep up.
[Gina McClaren] Aulready been sleepin en yer bed Fianna, as chance has et. Room three, jes sae happens was empty when me house burned. *Caramel kin`s singsong is a little quieter now, as it seems she really is being hauled over Curata`s shoulder caveman style, and hauled back to his pack house. Packhouse?*
Peaches… yer wi`tha Eagles now?
*She`s getting a tad lightheaded, hanging upside down and swinging like so much baggage against the Ahroun`s back. She wraps an arm round his waist in an awkward squeeze of exaggeration. Then its both hands to his ass to get his attention.*
Wait! Wait damnet Curata! Joss loves… Andrew`s there…aye? Might be a fuss.
[Curata] Curata stops, he pulls Gina down from his shoulder and sets her on her feet, releasing her. He sets his hands to rest on his hips, casting his eyes down at her.
“I am wi’ Eagles now and Andrew doesn’t stay at that pack house. If’n he ‘as a fucking problem wi’ ye being there then I’ll ‘andle it. The feral ain’t got nay a claim to ye, so don’t worry about it.”
[Joss Lehrer] Is he with the Eagles now? “He is.” And Joss is pleased as punch about it, truth be told. Then Curata lays down the law, and she smiles softly.
“You’re more than welcome there, Gina. And if ya get tired of him, you can come play with my toys in the Attic. Just uh, not when I’m not there, some of the toys are a little jumpy.”
…no doubt about it – the Godi is weird.
[Gina McClaren] Och aye.. jes.. Dinnae wan tae make anywan sore. Fook. Encluden me warders ah suppose. Reckon ah`d best phone em en tha mornin.
*A nod of her head as she regains her footing, bells tinkling as she rubs her arms against the cold. No longer in close proximity to garou body heat meant the thin fabric of her coat wasn`t doin much for her. Her hands smooth over her curves as she considers, and nods again. Hesitance hardly something common on a pikey.*
Aulrecht. Reckon ah`d be pleased as punch tae cook fer ye folk. An tae..play wi`yer toys. Tho ah`ll try tae keep oot yer loft effen yer nae there darlin.
*A glance up between the ahroun and joss suddenly.*
Nae. Ah WILL keep oot yer loft. An effen ah dinnae, pin me the fook down, oor shake the shite out o me oor some sooch. Aye?
[Curata] “Who’re yer warders now?”
He wasn’t surprised that Gina had been finally given a Warder. There was a serious tone in his voice as the playful next drops away. He brings his hands up, unzipping the leather bomber jacket and begins to slide out of it. It was old and worn, smelling of clean soap and of the Fianna, and still carried his body heat. He drapes it around Gina’s shoulders, nodding his head for the Strider to follow along.
“Do ye want to stay at the Brotherhood?”
[Joss Lehrer] She grins at Gina, recognizing curiosity when she sees it. “Don’t worry, I’ll take ya up there. Oh! And watch out for the little police car. He has a crush on Imogen, so we can’t let him out of the house or he tracks her down and follows her happily.”
She sighs, deeply. Damn spirit has a mind of his own, for sure.
Then the talk turns to warders, and whether or not Gina is really going to come over. Joss tucks her hands into the pockets of her skirt with a smile. She’ll be content no matter the decision, as long as Gina has a safe place to stay.
[Gina McClaren] Nae darlin. Reckon ah`m nae sae fond o`aul the ghosts wha haunt et, o`late. Ah`m nae as comfortable wi`strange folk as ah was when ah breezed entae town, reckon.
*Her small form is engulfed by a warm jacket, and she smiles up in appreciation, sighing and leaning into the Fianna a moment as she nods to Joss. Curiosity flickering to life in the back of her mind. Legs not nearly long enough to keep easy stride with curata, she jogs along noisily.*
Warders, Muerte Fria an`Hunter both. Though Hunters on a walkabout.
[Curata] Curata slows the pace of his long stride to allow Joss and Gina to keep up. He swings his head to Joss, eyes narrowing slightly as he wants to speak with her over the totem link, but thinks better of it. It isn’t hard to read the question in his eyes as he directs them at the Godi and then to Gina.
“If’n Joss is a’ight wi’ it. Would ye like to come stay wi’ me for awhile until ye can find a new place to stay and Soledad doesn’t care? If’n ye are worried about not keeping up yer ends I’m sure we won’t mind someone to take care o the place. I’ll keep Andrew away if’n I ‘ave to.”
[Joss Lehrer] She smiles brightly, and nods. “It’s fine by me. It’ll be nice to have some estrogen around the place for a while!”
When Curata looks at her, the question plain in his gaze, she just nods, and winks at him. She wouldn’t have suggested showing the pikey her Attic if she weren’t ok with having Gina there. As for Andrew… well, he can get bent if he has a problem with it. Between her and Mac, they’ll keep him away from Gina if they need to.
[Gina McClaren] Och nae, we gi`on fine most o tha time, Andrew an ah. Jes didnae wan tae hurt hes feelers nae, thas aul.
*Her hands come up, pikey warding off the very suggestion they chase Andrew off, eyes a little wide as she does so. Dark eyes slip first to Joss, then linger on Curata, before she nods and offers a sheepish smile.*
Aye.. reckon, effen ets jes until ah`ve enough fer me own place again, ah wouldnae mind warmin a bed an`keepin house. nae et aul.
[Curata] “Then it is settled. I’ll speak to Soledad personally then, so she is aware o the arrangements as it were.”
He rubs at his jaw again, one corner of his mouth crooking up as he smirks down at Gina, his other hand reaching out to stroke the side of her cheek absently with the knuckles on the back of hand.
He continues to follow Joss to the location of her van, “We can stop by the Brotherhood now if’n ye like and pick up some things for ye.”
[Joss Lehrer] She points ahead to where Althea is parked. It certainly can’t be missed, that’s for sure. The old VW Van has the most garish paint job EVER – it makes the typical hippie flowers look normal, yet Joss loves it. It also just seems to.. fit.
“That’s Althea – isn’t she a beauty? I got her for a steal too…just had to promise to keep the paint job, because the previous owner’s grandkids did it for him. Randy helped me rebuild the engine, she purrs like a kitten…”