AnneMarie | Kin Relations [Nora/Ling]

Posted on November 3, 2006 by Lessa
[Nora Jonsdottir]
to AnneMarie Hoch
(want some company? :) )
[AnneMarie Hoch]
to Nora Jonsdottir
(heh. sure. I’m scared of Mei. she said PEOPLE GO PLAY and apparently I’m the only one who obeys without thought. *L*)
[Nora Jonsdottir]
to AnneMarie Hoch
LMAO well here I am, and without even being told ta boot!
[AnneMarie Hoch]
Another night, another patrol. Things are the same, yet different. She has cleaned up since last night’s battle, and she exudes her natural grace [..bitterness..] as always. Her 2inch heels of her boots click a steady tattoo across the cement. Her long, lean frame is swathed in her calf-length leather coat, belted neatly around her waist. Slacks and a silken shirt underneath complete her typical attire.

The more things change… she is nothing but herself. Steadfast. Sure.

Pale gaze sweeps the streets before her, ever attentive, ever watchful. Ever silent.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora did not have patrols, but nevertheless she was out tonight in temperatures that in another three hours might dip below the freezing mark. She’d insulated herself well this evening against the cold and chill. Her knee length dark wool coat was buttoned up and she even wore gloves and a hat tugged down on her head low enough to cover her ears. It looked …cute to say the least. Long blonde hair and pale skin stand in extreme contrast against the dark coat and hat. Her arms are crossed over the flat of her belly and while Nora always keeps her emotions under tight wraps, they’re plainly visable this evening.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
It doesn’t take a miracle to find Nora. One, she is not hiding. Two, her breeding makes her stand out. And three- though it has been made clear just where she stands, Nora is still Eagle for the duration and thus to be watched over.

Seen, there is a moment’s silent consideration, before the steps continue toward John’s Daughter.
[Ling Rohl]
Ling exits the El walking rather quickly. Out the terminal and onto the street. Not for a full block does she slow to a normal pace. Bitter cold tonight, and with the wind Ling is absolutely positive she is alive. And cold. But its worth it. Nothing blocks the weather from her skin but cloth and leather, no walls, since the wind whips right the hell around them in Chicago.
Whatever gloves she could find from Tristan’s latest delivery keep her hands warmish as she carts her latest bag of groceries home from Luis’s grocery store soem distance away. Not a good neighborhood there. In fact, it rather sucks, but having a werewolf for a company owner does tend to have its safety perks in the building at least if not on the streeets surrounding it. Supposedly, her current location is a better location than the address of the company on the bag she carries, logo clearly visible.
She’s got a hat , her hair tucked up under it, scarf covering half her face. Useful things, scarves.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Cornflower eyes lift to light upon AnneMarie. Her chin lifts a fraction of an inch, if that, and she continues on her path which leads her straight for the silent Fenrir. Despite having worn gloves tonight, Nora’s hands are shoved into her coat pockets … perhaps for lack of anything else to do with them. a half smile is given to the Garou, but little else until they’re within speaking distance. “Good Evening AnneMarie…”
[AnneMarie Hoch]
There is something about being with eagle. All eventually succumb to what many call the ‘eagle nod UP.’ It’s a greeting, it’s a question, its as varried as those who weild it. And now Nora has joined the ranks with the slight lift of her chin, which AnneMarie returns. Wordless, the greeting from the Modi, though it is clear she decifers the easily read emotions flickering across Nora’s face – or attempts too.

The silence stretches on, and then – perhaps to the great surprise of anyone and everyone – a small box is pulled from an inside pocket of AnneMarie’s coat and offered to Nora. It’s plain, smallish, and rattles a bit, with nothing on the outside that would give away inner contents.

An odd one, AnneMarie.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Her face is a motley of emotions that touch her eyes at least once as she regards the Fenrir. Confusion, wariness, pain and sorrow and about fifteen more that fall in between each of those. Still, there’s that half-smile, that sly smile, resides on her lips. Surprise is added to those emotions as the box is pulled free of her pocket. For a moment Nora is stilled and her hand flutters up to the gold fire red jewel pendant at her neck, the second gift in as many weeks. She reaches out to take the box, her eyes fixed on AnneMarie. “Thank you …” Nora hasn’t seen yet, but it likely won’t be long before she does.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
Inside the box, there is a simple card, written in AnneMarie’s unmistakable neat and precise writing. ~Happy Birthday.~ No other plattitudes, or anything extravegant. Simply two words that meant she heard, and made it a point to remember. Inside the box is nothing so fine as the gold fire pendant, but something else entirely. It is a small medalion, made of wood smoothed and sanded so as to seem almost soft to the touch. Etched inside is a rune – not a glyph, but an ancient rune that matches some of those on the staff many have seen AnneMarie herself weild. The meaning?

Strength.

There is a leather band that can be used to tie the small disk around her neck, long enough that it will be hidden beneath her clothes, and another small piece of paper that explains. ~The rune means strength. It is not much – but it will help you remember that which you were born with, and exude. Never forget that strength. And, should you have need, break the disk. The spirit within will find me, and I will find the others and come to your aid.~

It was something made long ago for another – but that part of the story remains untold.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora blinks slowly and looks at the carefully crafted medalion. Soft gloved finger tips ghost over it and she looks at it and back to AnneMarie with a smile that’s softened a great deal in the few moments that she’s been reading the small explanatory note inside the box. Nora can only assume that Kemp told AnneMarie it was her birthday, but that’s the last question floating around in her mind. “Would you …help me put it on?” Her clipped accent makes her words seem sharper than they really are.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
A slight nod, and strong fingers pluck the medalion and leather from the box. She threads the leather through the small hole for that purpose, then moves to stand behind Nora to drape it around her neck. Once Nora lifts her hair, she ties it securely at the base of the Kinfolks neck, and then smooths her blond hair back into place.

Returning to stand before Nora, she nods, slightly – lips curving just a slight hint of a smile.
[Kemp Oates]
It was cold enough to make breath fog out in a small cloud to be whipped away by the night wind. Fortunately his blood ran a little hotter than most, though he wore a jacket to keep from standing out to a mortal should he be seen as he prowled up the alley to appear at the mouth of it. Hair whipping around his face, into his eyes as he paused to survey the street before him.
[Ling Rohl]
The wind blows against her back, does little in the way of helping her along– just too much of her to shove easily. BUt she gets there eventually, in time to see Nora recieve a box from AnneMarie. Her approach is not particularly silent, not particularly noisy either, with less selfconciousness than she has shown inthe past. When sh is close enough, a wind break for Nora, her chin goes up in teh typical silent greeting, at least it probably does from the way the scarf wiggles.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
The long lengths of blonde hair is gathered and held up so that AnneMarie can affix the leather strap around her neck. Once on, she again smooths her gloved fingers over it and noting the smile on the Fenrir’s lips she hugs her – without permission or concern for not having such. She hugs AnneMarie like as if she were family, tight and with a good deal of emotion within her strength. Once released – if the woman allows the touch – she says “Thank you…” Again so softly it’s a beneath a whisper. Ling’s presence is noted and a smile is offered to the kin-woman. “Good evening Ling…”
[AnneMarie Hoch]
There is a pull of sensation, a pooling of feeling between her shoulder blades, that signifys pack is coming. She turns her head, eyes resting on the emerging Rotager instantly. A lift of her chin says hello.

Then Nora hugs her – and she couldn’t be more surprised. So surprised it colors her expression briefly, and she stands stock still. A moment’s glance at Kemp (…panic, maybe?) but then she returns the hug, quickly. Just a fast touch between family, nothing more – hopefully not misunderstood by the rotager who knows things Nora does not.

She steps back, and nods, and includes Ling in the greeting.
[Ling Rohl]
Her eyes flicker at the embrace between teh garou and kin. Ling’s head turns to the side as if to see something, the scarf blowing across her face to hide her expression from the ladies, if not the man. When she looks back, she answers in her normal husky , deep voice, albeit a slightly muffled voice from the scarf aroudn her face.
“hi. What’s the occasion?”
[Kemp Oates]
Other than the gleam of light reflexed from his eyes, there was no emotion on his face as he watched from a distance. Faintly returning the nod of greeting. Feet braced faintly apart against the force of cold winds. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. Jeans stained, hanging loose on his lanky frame.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
She looks at AnneMarie and then Ling before slowly shaking her head. This birthday had only been made special by the two gifts she recieved from people she didn’t really know…two gifts that held far more meaning than the silver Jetta or the Prada boots from her Mother. “It was my birthday.” She says to Ling, her customary half-smile still etched on her lips. The tickle of Rage (familiarity) draws her eyes around to see who else might be near. When her eyes fix on the Rotagar Nora is still for a long moment, uncertainity flickering deep within the blue of her eyes. Go? Stay? Talk? Walk away? A flurry of options fill her mind even as she’s turning back around to peer at AnneMarie and Ling. Whatever emotions regarding the New Moon overwhelm her she suddenly keeps her expression carefully guarded until her eyes are as emotionless as Kemp’s mossy green ones.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
She watches Kemp for a long moment, and then offers quietly across Eagle’s wings. It is a talen – it will find us if she has need of help. Us. not her. It was Gisele’s. She did not have time to use it. I hope that Nora never has the need to.

He may not expect an explanation, but she offers it anyway, as he knows more about her then the other’s present.

She catches the shift of expression from open to guarded, but says nothing, nor does she make any outward look that she saw it at all.
[Ling Rohl]
Ouch. Her throat works, swallowing something large and ephemerally painful.
“Happy Birthday, Nora. Which day was it? How old?”
Nora’s eyes move away; Ling’s flower blues follow, seeing a familiar face. Her chin raises to him too, and then she politely (maybe its polite, all she can do really) looks away to Nora again, waits for a reply with an extra amount of focus on the smaller woman.
[Kemp Oates]
~Heh~

Came across the totem link at first. Then…

~I’m sorry about Gisele. It was kind of you to give Nora something you meant for your love one.~
[Nora Jonsdottir]
“Monday…the 30th.” She says in reply to Ling. The two kinfolk could have been related in some way because their eyes are so similiar in color and shape, their hair nearly the same shade of fair blonde. “I’m 19…and thank you Ling.” Ever polite. Her attention shifts from Ling to Nora while her fingers busy themselves with the box the necklace came in.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
(stupid me. From ling to ANNEMARIE….LOL you guys are gonna have to read typo tonight!)
[AnneMarie Hoch]
She nods, slightly, emotion flickering through her gaze before it fades again under the careful control she clings too. I will see about making more for the others – with her in the school, however, I felt she needed it first. It is better then bruises, yes? A glimmer of amusement felt along the lines, her mental voice much more expressive then she ever allows herself to be outwardly.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
(I majored in typo! *grin*)
[Kemp Oates]
~Done told ya, she wants to learn, that’s between the two of ya. I’m keeping my big ass nose out of it.~

And when Ling looked his way again, he gave a faint nod to the Kin. Still remaining at a distance. Much brooding behind his eyes.
[Ling Rohl]
A year older than Ling. She’d been 17 when she’d come to Chicago. “Yours?” She asks of AnneMarie, her face regarding AnneMarie with intensity. Committing the dates to memory, just in case she hasnt’ got killed or arrested by then.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Thankfully she isn’t party to what’s said over the totem link. She casts a glance once more at Kemp then resolves not to look his way again. Her arms cross beneath the faint swell of her chest, and she listens to the conversation, her pale hair sticking out like a bright light in the dark.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
I was teasing, Kemp.

But she falls silent, again. The moon hangs heavy and bloated above the clouds, and there is nothing that can hide it’s affect on her, no matter how controlled she is. Her body is a sizzle of rage close to the surface, her skin warm to the touch, a fire that burns underneath begging for something to explode against, needing something to hurt, hit, kill, destroy – to howl silent at the moon and bathe in the blood of the enemy.

It takes effort, but she returns her attention to Ling. Her whiteboard appears, as well as the pen. ~My birthday is unimportant. I do not know it.~

Some things are never cause for celebration. The birth of Fenrir Shame is no different.
[Kemp Oates]
Still he watched from a distance. Not forcing his rage in closer to the kin to add to his packmate’s. The stink of the city blowing around him with each gust of wind that fluttered hair and clothing alike.
[Ling Rohl]
Her head bobs awkwardly in a sort of nod, acknowledgement at least. Shit. Maybe these garou here dont’ celebrate their own birthdays. No one has mentioned yet what breed AnneMarie is to Ling.
Ling shifts the two grocery bags she has carefully, the thunk of metal cans against each other giving away the contents at least of something she’s got. Her nerves jump about, skittering maybe due to AnneMarie’s presence, maybe to the– no– Let It Go.
She breathes in, out, and is silent, achy.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora eyes the bags then looks up at Ling’s face. The daughter of Jon has lived in the face of a Modi’s Rage her entire life. It has strengthened her resolve and fortitude though she’s not immune to the effects of AnneMarie’s. Quietly, considering, she clears her throat and flicks a gloved finger towards her bags. “Why don’t you let me help you carry those in?” At least it’d be something to get the Rotagar off of her mind.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
She nods her head to the kinfolk, in way of farewell. A slight twist of lips suggests a smile, but it fades away as she steps back, to continue walking. She is too keyed, to wound to go inside with the kin. Instead, her walk takes her toward Kemp – though it is unclear if she will stop, or keep walking.
[Kemp Oates]
Silently watching AM come closer. Nothing in his stance changing. Still fairly at ease seeming. Once or twice his attention drifted past the approaching packmate towards the two kin in the distance.
[Ling Rohl]
The usual chin gesture to AnneMarie, and a quiet “Bye” even.
Then she returns her attention to Nora. “In?” Her expression goes blank in sudden confusion. “I’m goin home. Just got off work up north of Downtown.”
Yes. Allll the way to the packhouse. Waaay over there. Carrying the groceries. Maybe she has in mind a bus or another El ride.
LIke the last wasnt freaky enough.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora shook her head and a faint rosey hued blush touched her cheek. “I mean … home…would you like to put them in my car and I can give you a ride home?” She pauses a moment and looks at her gloved hands. “My mind is in other places Ling, forgive me…” An apologetic smile is offered to the other kinfolk as she averts her eyes towards the silver Jetta almost half of a block down.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
She pauses, and turns to stand next to him. Not a word – comfort in silence. It is what she knows, how she lives, though this close he can feel the aggitation rippling under her skin, begging to be freed. It is also clear that it is not directed at him – merely caused by the swell of bloated Luna hiding behind lights and smog.

Comfort in having pack nearby.
[Kemp Oates]
“Ya know, you’re a girl and all, but fuck me. I just don’t get ya’ll.”

Muttered with a sideways glance at AM.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
A slim brow arches, and she glances sideways at the Rotagar, questioning.
[Kemp Oates]
Giving nothing more than a faint shake of his head and a muttered.

“Nevermind.”

To the questioning look.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
I may be a girl, but I am not stupid Kemp. What is it? Or, which one confuses you now? Me?

Part of her might be concerned that she had offended him again. Most of her is certain she did not. Mostly, however, she is curious.
[Ling Rohl]
Ooh that got her attention. Ling sort of tries for a casualness, probably doenst quite make it. “Uh sure. I got the bags, but thanks– could use a ride.” She can take cold. She can take the bags too. And the walk. Huge as she is, muscular and getting more so, she doenst need help carrying much-usually– but all that way wouldnt be the most comfy walk ever with two bags of stuff. And the cold. And whatever crazies are between here and there–besides possibly Ling herself.
[Kemp Oates]
“It’s nothing. It’s everything. It’s life in general and not you so don’t give it another thought. Shouldn’t of said anything.”

Muttered with a roll of his shoulders.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
Oh for fuck’s sake.

….oh my. She pauses. inhales. Disturbed that she allows her control to crack. But after a moment. But you did. So maybe you meant to. Maybe not. You do yourself – or us, for that matter – no favors by crawling into your shadows and shell, Rotager. Perhaps I could help. Perhaps not. But I am not the enemy. Even if I do have tits. I am simply pack.

Another moment, and she just nudges his shoulder with her own. A slight bump, nothing more, before she turns to resume her patrol.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
She’d told herself that she wouldn’t look back at Kemp. She hasn’t thus far, but when Ling accepts her offer of a ride Nora turns and shifts her body so that AnneMarie and Kemp are offered her profile now instead of just her long blonde hair laying against the black wool of her coat. “Of course…it is too long of a walk for even you…” Now that her position has shifted, she lays blue eyes towards the two Garou. “Would you like to go now?” And those words swing her eyes back to Ling.
[Ling Rohl]
Ling shakes her head. “Done the walk before. Don’t matter much when we go, to me, but…” she tracks where Nora goes, goes without even leaving Ling’s side. “…maybe you want to go now. Or, maybe you really want to go back over there.”
Question. An offer. Best she can do.
[Ling Rohl]
to AnneMarie Hoch, Kemp Oates, Nora Jonsdottir, Skadi
(I jsut quoted that tit comment *dies*))
[Nora Jonsdottir]
For a moment she looks taken back. Nora is 5’9 give or take an inch in the dark sneakers she’s wearing, so she has to lift her chin to really peer up at the other kinfolk. The feminine line of her jaw tightens and firms, and she just ….watches the taller kin for a long moment. Anger touched the edges of her lips, drawing thm straighter across. “To go over there?” She asks increduliously, casting another glance towards the departing AnneMarie and Kemp. “No, I think you’re misunderstading…” Her words are spoken on a half-life as if she cannot believe that Ling could have formulated that thought or come to that conclusion. “Whenever you are ready, I’ll be happy to drop you at the house.”
[Nora Jonsdottir]
(half-life should read half-laugh LMAO man oh man … I should give up already tonite!)
[Skadi]
(Sorry! Too tired and distracted. :) )
[Alaric Reiter]
( Room for another? )
[Ling Rohl]
((AHAH! There you are! come in!))
[Alaric Reiter]
Alaric, for lack of a better entrance and Ken’s momentary blank mind, makes his entrance and his presence is readily known by his merits and shit.
[Kemp Oates]
“You have no idea just how deep those shadows have grown nor thin the shell is. Though I’m working on building it back up.”

Snorted without fully looking at her.

“Listen, I ain’t fit company right now. Heh, or any time for that matter. Been told that often enough. So ignore me.”
[Ling Rohl]
A little more rigid. Little more straight. The helpfulness dies from her eyes with the anger from the other kinfolk. More Eagles and kin mad at her. All the fuck she needs now. How the hell did she manage it this time? Fuckin needs manuals on this shit. Only, that would require reading and shit. “Ok.” And she gathers the bags a little more closely to her, waits for Nora to lead. Silent again, like a clam. A big, dangerous, stunning clam.
[Ling Rohl]
to Alaric Reiter, AnneMarie Hoch, Kemp Oates, Nora Jonsdottir
(Goddamn! Simultanous post!)
[Kemp Oates]
“Got rounds to do.”

A lift of his chin to AM before he was fading back into the dark of the alley he had come from.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
She pauses, and turns back. I am mute, not blind Kemp. And I will make such decisions as to who I choose to spend my time with on my own. You are pack. You are family. You are stuck with me. In person, in your head, at your side, at your back. That is all I have, and I will not give it up, nor allow you to either.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora frowns seeing the body language shift and change within Ling. A gloved hand lifts and she touches her forehead, a frown marking her lips. “I am sorry Ling…I’m not sure…” A moments hesitation touches the Fenrir kin’s words and she shakes her head. “I’ve been rather … in an ill mood as of late…I am sorry for snapping at you. I do not believe that Kemp wishes company, were I to go speak to him …it would be an unwelcome intrusion.” She glances back towards the Rotagar and Modi just in time to see him meld back into the shadows from which he came. Her frown only deepens.
[Ling Rohl]
Oh. That she can deal with. Her face relaxes into somethign approaching calmness, and she sighs more deeply inwardly than outward her relief. One not mad. Thats a start. Maybe two not mad.
Time to go.
She takes about two steps towards wherever Nora leads then stops at somethign moving over.. there. Somethign big and– Alaric-like. Whoops. Time to stay.
“Wait. I know that guy.” Her voice is faintly urgent, and she turns her head back and forth, half her face covered by a scarf, her hair hidden by the same cap she’d offered Alaric the night they’d met. Same coat, leathery outside, fleecy inside with some of it showing. “Go get AnneMarie and Kemp. Please? Someone they should meet.”
Ling turns on her heels and paces towards Alaric, raising her chin in a sharp greetign to him. No glasses tonight.
[Kemp Oates]
“Yap, yap, yap. Yeah I got it. Never a moment’s peace, including the toilet. Eyes always watching. Big brother there with the Lysol and all that stuff.”

Fading off further into the dark, his words echoing behind him.
[Kemp Oates]
((This boy is beat. Heading to bed. Night all. ))
[AnneMarie Hoch]
His answer? Sharp. Stinging. Silence.

Some days, it would have been so much easier to remain elsewhere in mourning. Some days, she wishes for the ability to wallow in that ache again. Today is such a day.
[Alaric Reiter]
Spotting Ling, Alaric does not make any other noticable appearance of having seen her except for a slight tilt to his bald-shaven head. Eyes, blue ice and winter fury, regard her as he approached. At least, on this meeting, he wasn’t pulling a gun and threatening to blow someone’s testicles off for a slight against him and his new found friend (or so she would seem), Schmetterling Rohl.

Why does not figure he would run into the little butterfly again?
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Well. Nora eyes the man closely, suspiciously, and then turns on her heel to get AnneMarie – not Kemp. She could have surely caught up with him, or hollered loud enough to get his attention but that just wasn’t Nora’s style. She had told Kemp she didn’t chase people, and at least that she would stand firm on. The pretty blonde wrapped up in an expensive wool coat and cute dark hat heads towards AnneMarie with a stride full of purpose. When she’s close enough she speaks so that the Fenrir can communicate with her. “AnneMarie…” a pause, then “Ling has someone she feels you or Kemp should meet…”
[AnneMarie Hoch]
She turns when Nora calls her name, and watches the young kin as she speeks. A lift of her gaze to look toward Ling and the companion. She then simply nods, and gestures for Nora to lead the way.
[Ling Rohl]
Ling’s clothes are a contrast to Nora’s. Not the money there.
“Nice timing.” She walks over to a proper distance. Not intimate, not standoffish. From here, she isnt looking directly up- but there’s a tilt and she isnt gonna win it unless she starts growing again. Which coudl still happen.
“Come meet people?” her head tilts in invitation, one blonde wave startign to escape from its knitted trap.
[Alaric Reiter]
Then, perchance, for a split second his stone cold demeanor slips for a moment as he offers her a wry smile gestures her to lead on. One could not have too many friends when you were alone, and possibly outnumbered. Shrugging his thick shoulders for the reassurance of the weight of his revolver on it’s shoulder holster beneath his coat.

In the cold of this night, some might think Alaric crazy, but the only thing beneath the coat besides the gun and holster was a black wifebeater. No matter what you may say, Denmark probably was colder.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora nods and starts to lead AnneMarie to where she had just left Ling. Noting Ling’s movement towards Alaric Nora stiffens, though it’d only be noticeable to someone that paid just an extra minute of attention to her body. Lingering in the space where she had been with Ling, Nora waits and turns her eyes towards AnneMarie. “I do not know what is wrong with Kemp. I do not know him as well as his pack, I am new here. I have tried to help him and be his friend…he pulls me in and pushes me away. I do not know why…” Nora’s words are tainted by an accent that’s all sharp consonants and vowels. The ignorant may think it German, the experienced would label it Danish.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
She listens. It is the best she can do, as they walk and finally wait for Ling to return with her friend in tow. Pale gaze studies Nora, watching the way she speaks, the nuances of her frame, and how she holds herself. It would be safe to say the modi misses nothing. However, it is also safe to say she can do little or nothing.

From the pocket of her leather coat slender fingers pull the whiteboard and pen. Her writing is quick, and legible. ~I have been gone long. He is changed – I am unsure how to help. But I will not stop trying.~

It is the best she can do. After it is read, the whiteboard is slid across her thigh where a dark stain in otherwise perfectly pressed and clean slacks suggests it is the one visible habit she allows herself.
[Ling Rohl]
Smile. Ling returns the expression, adds more on to it, a strangely grateful sort of welcome. Then she walks beside Alaric, not in front of him, and not to use him as a windbreak either as the wind is actualy hitting her first, to meet People.
Nation peoples, actually. “This is the guy whose name i was givin to my cousin in my note.” SUrely teh whole household read it. If not, its enough to let things begin. She moves, and stands to one side, so that AnneMarie and Alaric can face off and get all introduced and shit.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora nods an affirmative. “Nor will I. You are a good friend AnneMarie.” And the conversation ends when Ling returns with her imposing friend. Nora eyes him quickly, briefly, nervously. She takes care to keep her attention on AnneMarie or Ling.
[Alaric Reiter]
His eyes first dart from Ling to Nora, the one with the Danish accent. Perhaps they may have something in common, if she can get over her nervousness of him, but that may or may not happen. To AnneMarie, the only apparent Garou present that he can discern, his Pure Breeding is obvious.

“Well met,” he said to Nora in his native Danish. Well, Danish and German were his two native languages. Reverting to English…

“I am called Alaric, son of Damek Blödigehamer, skald of Fenris.” Alaric pitched his voice low enough so as not to be overheard by any of the passers by. Those that could hear him were only the group of four present. “The little Butterfly wishes that I meet you,” more to AnneMarie than to Nora, but to the two of them nontheless.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
There is a very light pressure of fingertips along Nora’s back. Just enough to be felt, very much as one would direct a signifigant other, or friend, through a crowd. Or perhaps, lending the knowledge that the Modi is close by, and senses the tension and nervousness. Others might interpret it as possession. In that case, they are wrong.

To Alaric, she listens, her gaze watching him as he speaks and introduces himself. At the end, there is a judgement of seconds, perhaps, before her chin lifts in greeting. If describing Ling as a little butterfly amuses her, it does not show.

She then writes along her board again. ~AnneMarie Hoch. Modi. You have family here?~
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora’s eyes fly to Alaric as he greets her in a tongue that she hasn’t heard in person for a very long time. Almond shaped cornflower eyes blink once slowly as she fights against the mans intimidation factor. He did not have Rage, but what he did have more than made up for it. Her lips part as if to speak, maybe reply in their native tongue, but she doesn’t. Ling had intended for him to meet the Modi, Nora would not interrupt. Her eyes flutter to Alaric more often than not now, her resolve firming the longer she’s in his presence and growing more at ease with the Fenrir’s touch at her back.
[Ling Rohl]
At her name, she turns her head from watchign the women’s reaction to regarding Alaric with a very small smile of some sort of emotion vaguely similiar to ‘touched’. (brb)
[Alaric Reiter]
Alaric is not one Kinfolk to be intimidated easily, as it shows as he looks AnneMarie directly in the eyes, his glance flicking once to read her script. “None. The last of my immediate family was murdered in Philadelphia, may the entire city burn to the ground.” His words were growled out, not a memory he wishes to experience again. However much he hated his younger sibling Will Reiter (for reasons of his own), he was still blood. Blood was all that many had.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
He meets her gaze, on this night of the full moon, where her rage is palpable – burning high enough that it is odd Nora relaxes with her touch other then is burnt by the mere fact it exists. Whether the fact that he does meet her gaze is good or bad, she makes absolutely no indication.

The gaze is only broken when she writes again, then caught and held once more.

~You are staying long?~
[Ling Rohl]
Perhaps if the modi were nt so close Ling’s reaction would be more gentle. Shock, the sort of sympathy from one who knows exactly what an experience is like, the stabbing of remembered grief in her now-wide, flower-blue eyes. Words will wait for later.
[Alaric Reiter]
A flicker of eyelashes, and then back to the Modi. “As long as need be,” the response given. “I am needed, then?” Not your typical Kinfolk, such is apparent. Back home, in Europe, Alaric had often ran with other Garou of his home sept when circumstances allowed.

“I will fight.” Not a question.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
Nora is quiet for a long moment. Her eyes flicker back and forth between the trio. “We should speak later cousin…” she says to Alaric in her native tongue and apparently his. Turning she brushes her hand over AnneMarie’s forearm. “Ling, forgive me…I should be going…I’m sure Alaric or AnneMarie would be glad to help you home with your bags…” And with that the quiet blonde turns to go.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
~You will die.~

It is not as it seems, perhaps. It is, instead, Fenrir life. You will fight. You will die. We all fight. We all die. But then there is a lift of her chin. ~The dangers now are many. All are needed. I will speak with Rohl. Until then – remain in contact with Ling. She will tell you if we need you and where. Ling. You will keep his contact information handy. However, he is not Eagle unless Rohl says he is Eagle. Being Fenrir is not enough. Remember that.~

The reminder is there. Do not bring strangers to home and hearth until cleared by the Alpha and Wyrmfoe.

And then, as Nora says her goodbyes, she lifts her chin toward Alaric and Ling in farewell, and turns to walk Nora to her car.
[Alaric Reiter]
“We are all Fenrir, true born or not. My death will be as it is written by the Fates. Asgard awaits us all, sister.” At the lift of her chin, his remains steady in determination. “We die as we must, we fight as we must.

Nora departs, and she is answered with a grunt to AnneMarie as well. To Ling, he flicks his weighty glance at her. “I will be in touch,” and then he departs too.
[Alaric Reiter]
( Bedtime! Night!)
[Ling Rohl]
“K. Take care.” DOesnt use Nora’s name, just in case. “K AnneMarie. Thanks.” Read and understood. Relieved, from her face, just to have some bloody instructions.
Well. She shifts her two grocery bags, the cans inside clinking in the process. Somethign glass in their too. Hopefully the eggs arent frozen yet. At least the milk will be cold. The night is bitter fucking cold, to anyone not raised to it, fucking or bitter cold to those who were. “Um.”
Eloquent, eh? Cause.. she’s just been left with still no ride, still takign her bags home alone.
[Nora Jonsdottir]
(gotta crash, see ya’ll soon!)
[AnneMarie Hoch]
Once Nora is safely in her car, the Modi turns to see Ling still standing and confused. A pat of the top of the car as Nora pulls away, and AnneMarie returns to Ling, and takes one of the grocery bags, before gesturing toward the Packhouse.
[Ling Rohl]
And… a nice long walk to the busstop, another to the packhouse– but heh. AnneMarie got the milk jug bag. Ling grins, shakes her head.
Eventually, CHILLED but better off than she would be if she’d been alone, the packhouse is in site and more importantly, the stove to cook the cocoa is nearby. Her nose, unnder the scarf, is red. Fingers are cold, toes are damned cold, thighs she doenst have anymore. And she’s totally alive, of age now, free. Its good. Damned if the girl doesnt look cheery.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
AnneMarie holds the bag as if it is nothing – and indeed, to her it is not. She opens the door for Ling, and follows the kinfolk inside. She is not much for conversation, AnneMarie, but it is hard to beat such steadfast company.

Straight to the kitchen, she places the bag on the counter, and takes the time to slip from her jacket and smooth the wrinkles from her blouse and slacks with a careful hand. Only then does she put the grocerys away. One look toward ling, and the kettle is placed on the stove to begin to heat water for something warm to drink.
[Ling Rohl]
She nods, sets the bags on the counter, then goes to hangs her things as wordlessly as AnneMarie does. When she returns, she’s shed some layers. Her hair is –well– is a bad hair now. One hand runs through it to rumble it back to platinum wavy life, and her longsleeved (Thrift!) turtleneck skims her breakneck curves rather tightly. Jeans over powerful muscles. Trainers. Just her.
“Hungry?” One word, content with the cameraderie, and LIng of all people finds it easy to ask questions of AnneMarie that require no words to answer. Hell, she lived that way long enough herself, though hers was by choice. Mostly. Neccesity, more. Basic gorceries start to emerge form teh bag, staples, not junk food. Good stuff. BUt inexpensive.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
There is a single word, though they move around the kitchen as if well used to it. Perhaps AnneMarie is simply used to moving about in the background, making herself useful in little ways that are important only to her and largely unnoticed by others.

She shakes her head, however, declining the food. She does not eat much, and rarely with everyone. Instead, she sets out the cup and cocoa for Ling, and prepares the warm beverage.
[Ling Rohl]
LOts. Of. Meat. Its in the fridge,much as she thought she could carry home. Cause werewolves like meat. So do very large overgrown kin.
Eventually, she sits at the table, takes the offered cup with a thankful smile and murmured word. A few sips later, she opens up, just a little. Just a little, to protect AnneMarie, not herself.
“What you wrote. Been thinkin about that. I met.. i think 4 peopel in nation recently. Didn’t know how to handle that. What am i supposed to do? I ah.. missed out on some of this stuff when i should have been learning it.” her german accent is a littel mroe pronounced just now. Thinking of her family. Ache.
[Ewan Selwyn]
(( open?)
[AnneMarie Hoch]
She doesn’t lean. She is not one who leans. Instead she stands near the counter as Ling sits, eats, speaks. From her bicep, a tattoo roils and twists and spills down her arm until her staff is held lightly between her fingertips, then spun with what seems to be lazy indifference.

She gives the question thought, before she leans the staff against her shoulder, takes out her board and writes. ~You did it right with Alaric. Get their contact information. We will see that it gets to the right people, or that we meet them as indicated. This house is a safe house. Unless the kin you meet is directly in danger, do not bring them here. No other Garou either, unless cleared. This is where we keep you safe. We cannot do that if it is open door policy.~
[Ling Rohl]
She reads intently, having to take her tiem to get it right, mouthign each word with her brow furrowed just a little. Eventually– she’s done, looks up to teh modi and nods. As near relaxed as she can be, with the fury of Gaia leaking all over the kitchen. At least she’s still in the room.
Ling nods, sighs. “There’s a lot of shi–stuff i don’t know. Should. Or maybe i knew, and forgot. Fucked up enough already, don’t want to do more.”
Her jaw clenches, hard.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
She swipes the board across her thigh. ~Relax. We all make mistakes. We learn from them, move on. You are Fenrir. You are Rohl. Nothing else matters.~

So simple, the world according to the Modi. Everything has been stripped from her. Pack, Tribe, Sept is all that remains.
[Ling Rohl]
THis is why Nora was hugging on AnneMarie. Her eyes fill with complex emotion, but in the end she nods, sips at the cocoa, even if the stillness isnt so easy to come by.
“I ahh Luis Garcia’s helping me study for the GED. Its gonna be a long time till i’m ready. But after, is there anythign i should do or study, to be useful to the pack? Anything you want me to do in the meantime?”
She’s talking. Garroulous for Ling.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
There is something in AnneMarie that will never understand why Nora hugged on her. Nor why there are emotions crossing through ling’s face, that suggest she may do the same. She is Modi, she is AnneMarie, she is… what she is. Metis. Mule. [worthless pathetic cant even get a decent deformity and do that right useless, bitter grace, useless] She is Ruhiger. Nothing more, nothing less.

A nod, slight. ~One step at a time. Best you can do is become comfortable in your skin, with who you are. All else will come. And yes. Drink your cocoa. I need to burn off some energy.~

She leaves her board there, and strips from her blouse on the move, tossing it onto a chair, her staff in her hand lightly, easily as she approaches the mat, and the heavy bag waiting for her to strike.

It is a full moon.
She is Modi.
She. Is. Rage.
[AnneMarie Hoch]
((in there was supposed to be something about the tank top under the blouse…*L*))
[Ling Rohl]
She doesnt impose physical contact, Ling Cooties, on AnneMarie. Learned that lesson already, that just because SHE feels affection, caring, for someone, doenst mean they really give a damned in return. For now, Ling can accept the words, try to read nothign else into it. Mostly.

Of course, AnneMarie stripping to flash her lovely bare breasts at Ling is unexpected. But who’s going to argue with a modi? At.. a full moon?
[Ling Rohl]
((hehe last part a joke, couldnt resist)
[AnneMarie Hoch]
In her tanktop, and slacks, she pauses only to remove her boots as well, and soon the steady beating of the heavy bag begins. She aches for fight, for pain, for war, for death and destruction that would allow her to bathe victorious in the blood of the wyrm.

The planning stages are the worst. Action is what drives the Modi. Strength and victory. Death and Fenris judging she had done right by her tribe despite the shame of her very birth. In loo of seeking battle, she sets about stratgic destruction of the bag. Her movements are fluid, graceful, and with a deadly precision. It is beauty of a most violent manner.
[Ling Rohl]
Ling hears the punching and stands, follows and…. watches. Watches, in amazement, in wonder, and then– Studies. Studies every damned thing AnneMarie does. For as long as the woman keeps at it, unless told to leave.
[Ling Rohl]
to AnneMarie Hoch
((Ok gg to bed! take care and thansk for playing, west coast still-awake woman!)
[AnneMarie Hoch]
to Ling Rohl
(*L* night. and she was using the staff – not her fists. Just for clarification. *g*))
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