[Theron Locke] Theron exited the ticket booth, his hands folding what appeared to be some form of envelope. The envelope once closed was slid into a pocket inside his jacket. He proceeded down the street, the purpose to which he came to the Theatre district already accomplished. Finding a small coffee shop nearby the theatre , he opened the door and stepped inside to get out of the cold air. Taking a seat in the window bay as his eyes looked out at the world moving by.
Christmas was now over, so the mad rush was gone. The city was now returning to the standard thrum that was usual to see.
[Moira Murray] With only a few days between Christmas and New Years, the world hasn’t quite lost its flavor for holidays. However, most of the Christmas decorations have come down, a few lights remain strung up in various places, likely to be taken down after the New Year’s celebration downtown.
Snow blankets Lake View in a white wonderland, painting in an array of muted whites and greys. People huddled up in their heaviest winter clothes, trying to escape the chill into warmer places.
One particular kin did just that, a failed attempt to score transportation led her into seeking shelter in a coffee house, a gloved hand rose up to peel the gray knit cap from her head, spilling a long tousle of black loose ringlets around her shoulders to tumble down her back. She used the cap to dust snow off her shoulder and arms, stepping up to the counter as she casts a glance around.
[Izzy Montoya] It’s not unusual to see Izzy in a coffee house. Nor is it unusual to see her at a counter, taking a sip of the oddly complicated order (Coffee. 2 creams, 4 sugars. it’s not rocket science!) and discovering it’s extremely hot, and voicing her displeasure. “Jesus, mary mother of FUCK that’s hot!”
Because she’s a classy dame, and all.
She sets the cup back down, and peels off her leather gloves, one finger at a time, and shoves them into the pocket of her leather trenchcoat. Despite the chill, it’s worn open, leaving easy access to the gun-like bulge at the small of her back. Other than that, it’s business casual look, business as usual, as she turns to search out a table where she can warm herself with coffee that’s currently hotter than that guy who…
…never mind.
[Theron Locke] It’s not until a female customer voices her displeasure rather loudly that Theron’s concentration is pulled away from the window. Turning his head he is first drawn to the source of the voice and finds himself looking at a brunette in business attire. His brow furrowing as he tries to place the familiar face…wasn’t she the one.. in the brotherhood that time… the cop…what was her name..Izzy? yeah that was it. Then another female figure steps beside her unfurling her black hair though she remains unrecognisable till she turns to cast her eyes over the coffee shop.
Theron leans back in his chair slight as he puts up a single hand in a small wave. “Izzy? Moira?” as he tries to get their attention.
[Moira Murray] Izzy was unmistakable. From her attire to her loudmouth, her exclamation catches the attention of several people, including the kin herself. She chuckles, tucking the knit cap back down over her head as she paused at the counter.
She sets her order for coffee and a muffin, glancing around with a start when she hears her name. Head turned, casting blue eyes over Theron and smiles. She returns the small wave, attention pulled away by the employee behind the counter as she pays for her coffee.
She picks it up, tucking her money away into a coat pocket and heads over to Theron’s table. “What are you doing out here? I didn’t think the brotherhood let you out past bedtime.”
[Izzy Montoya] Someone calls her name, and she blinks, searching until she finds Theron. Lips curve into a smirk – she never forgets a face, especially one that makes sure she knows War is Srs Biznes – as she turns and heads his direction, meeting Moira halfway.
She lifts her cup in a toasty hello to them both, before she takes another – no more careful than the first – sip.
“Evenin. Theron, wasn’t it? Hello, Moira.”
[Theron Locke] He raises and eyebrow at Moira’s comment when she finally makes her way over to him, though it soon turns to a chuckle “I’m my own keeper most of the time Moira, though it makes me wonder if you’ve been checking up on me?” the last question said with a grin.
His hand cradling the coffee that had already been offered and delivered. Raising it as he returns the offered toast in Izzy’s direction “Yeah that’s right… it’s been awhile since I last saw either of you.”
“As for my actual reason for being out here Moira.. I was just picking up some tickets to the theatre.”
[Moira Murray] “Hmm,” Moira smirks, resting a hand the back of a chair that sits opposite of Theron’s at his table. She pulls it out, setting her cup and muffin down, before flopping down into the chair.
“I was ghost hunting, but failed in any attempt to catch a ride…” she mutters sourly with a shake of her head. She leans back in her chair, arms stretching out as hands wrap around her cup.
“I haven’t really seen much of you in the past month? Have you been busy?”
When Izzy comes over, Moira looks at the Detective and smiles, “Evening, coffee hot enough for you?”
[Izzy Montoya] “Miss me, did ya.” To Theron, as she pulls a chair out and has a seat, making sure her jacket isn’t hampering her ability to reach her weapon before she leans forward, resting her forearms against the edge of the table.
“Hot enough. Ghost hunting?” Now she’s heard everything…
[Theron Locke] “Ghost hunting? really….sounds fascinating” he looked thoughtful… and his eyes looked at Moira under a new light. Perhaps… his mind flashing back to when the Fenrir known as Rattlebones fell… nah couldn’t be.
“Always Izzy… you make that sort of impression.” a wry smile forming on his lips.
“As for me.. yeah very busy.. mayhem and mischief everywhere. Trouble seems to follow me like a bad smell at the moment.”
[Moira Murray] Theron might also remember the last time he saw any sign of Moira. It was back in an alley in the Cabrini with Fomori dogs and their Giant deformed Master… the Garou that were consuming and vomiting up putrid tumors…
Theron had suffered grievous wounds and in his attempts to protect the Fenrir kin, she had laid hands upon him and healed him in such a way that he knows only Garou of his auspice do.
She grins at the pair, “Yes, ghost hunting.” Her head bobbing in a quick nod to confirm it, “Wendy and I ran into a ghost earlier, someone named Mary. We think it’s Resurrection Mary.”
[Theron Locke] Theron hadn’t forgotten that battle…the fallout had nagged at him for a long while after..that he needed to improve himself if he was going to be of any use to this city. At the time he had been surprised that he had been healed… Ylva had already healed him once… but then she fell… he had always just figured it must have been one of the other Garou there.
Theron brow furrows in a frown “Resurrection Mary?”
[Izzy Montoya] She snorts. She always has made an impression – just rarely what other folks are expecting. Moira speaks more about their ghost siting, and she arches a brow slightly.
“Wendy?”
Then Theron asks the question she was going to next, and she awaits the reply.
[Moira Murray] She seems pleased to have captured their attention, Moira picked at the lip of her coffee lid, peeling it back. Steam rose up as she brings it up to her mouth, cupped between both palms and sips at it tentatively.
“Wendy Berber, a skinny little kin with coke-bottle glasses… She’s handy with computers and loves the occult. Scared of everything.”
Dark eyelashes hover low over her eyes, “Wendy says Resurrection Mary is a woman that died in the 1930s, she an urban legend, one of those hitch-hiking ghosts you hear about. Wears a white party dress and dancing shoes, got hit by a car and died after leaving some party.”
“The cemetery she’s buried at is in the loop near Chinatown called Resurrection or something.”
[Izzy Montoya] She nods, filing away the information on Wendy, as she listens to the rest.
“Resurrection Catholic Cemetery, yeah.” Her brow furrows, as she searches through her memories of Chicago before her exile, to see if she comes up with anything on this… ghost. She comes up empty – she’s not much of a Ghost Hunter type.
“She know the woman’s last name? Might be some records in the database I could dig for if so.”
[Moira Murray] “No, Detective. I don’t think she does. I have never heard of such an apparition.”
[Izzy Montoya] She nods. “Alright – if she does, let me know and I’ll see what I can dig up.” She lifts her cup and takes a long swig – her tongue is already burned, there’s little more damage she could do to it. “The vics I meet tend to stay dead.”
Of course, that’s only one one side of her life, dealing with humans, with those who haven’t a clue exactly what’s going on right under their nose. “Most of the time.”
[Moira Murray] Moira nods again to Izzy, seeming to consider this.
“I will pass word along to Wendy. I do have your contact number so it’ll be easy to pass along.”
[Izzy Montoya] “Alright.” Her lips curl into a familiar smirk. “Not like I’m hard to find – just look in the nearest coffee shop.” At least she doesn’t say donuts. Not that she doesn’t eat them, but well, some stereotypes are just to easy.
She leans back in her chair, hips sliding forward automatically to keep from pressing her gun uncomfortably into the small of her back. She crosses her legs, one ankle resting lightly on opposite knee. “Ghosts. That’s all we need.”
[Moira Murray] She sets her coffee cup down after taking another cautious sip from it. Reaching for the muffin, Moira begins to peel the wrapper off, spreading it out to use as an impromptu napkin and picks at it, tearing off pieces to pop into her mouth and chew.
“There has been quite a few ghost activity in the past few years.”
[Izzy Montoya] “Is that so…” She arches a brow, curious. “Other urban legends, or just in general?”
[Moira Murray] “Other urban legends you can say… particularly one a few years ago related to a rather bloody apparition that liked to kill children. Also went by the name Mary…”
She continues to speak, inbetween pieces of muffin, “When we last did research there’d been news she had come up from Miami.”
[Izzy Montoya] That brow goes up again, and she snorts. “Suddenly I’m glad my name ain’t fuckin’ Mary.” being fresh from Miami and all.
“You’d think the fucker’s that wrote them legends would be a bit more inventive. Half of ’em seem to be named Mary.” She tips her head, and then blinks. “Wait, you mean that kids story chick? Say the name three times and she pops out a mirror or some shit? You gotta be kidding me…”
[Moira Murray] There was a tone of seriousness in her voice, even as she peeled apart the muffin and ate it casually, glancing up between Theron and Izzy every now and then. She crumbles up the wrapper after its been devoured, straightening.
“Yes, the very one.”
Moira shrugs her shoulders, “It terrorized Chicago a few years ago, killing kinfolk. It was a mess, I don’t know what happened to her. I’m not sure any of the wolves were capable of getting rid of her, everything just stopped after awhile.”
[Izzy Montoya] A brow lifts as she just watches the other kinfolk for a moment. “Huh.” It stands to reason Izzy’s seen a lot of things – on both sides of the war: Garou, and human. She knows to much, hears to much, is able to do things that others simply can’t by virtue of ancestry and Fenrir fuckin’ determination. She’s worked cases of serial killers, she’s covered tracks of Garou who do the same in the name of war, and has seen more blood and guts than anyone should.
But Ghosts and Urban Legends come to life? Learn something new every day. “So any inkling on what this Resurrection Mary might want?”