Ornature

[Gina McClaren] *Ghosts. Everywhere ghosts. It seemed they haunted the Pikey wherever she wandered. They hung about the Brotherhood like an oppressive fog. Even here, in Whitey's, amidst faded pictures of Marilyn Monroe and 50's kitsch, there are memories to push from the corners of a harried mind. Tawny features are lit Pink-Blue-Pink from the flashing neon of the jukebox, a straw circled idly in a triple thick strawberrry milkshake. Indian woman dressed in denim daisy-dukes and a faded tanktop, shifting in the fake leather booth so as not to stick to it in the sweltering heat.*

[Roman Turner] (( I really hate to do this to you guys and appreciate the offer of play more than you will know, but I am so damned tired I really just want to go to bed. I hope you will forgive me.))
to Gina McClaren, Kora

[Kora] The warm day dovetails into a warm night. The air is humid, heavy with moisture. Whitey's has air conditioning, a pair of huge window units nevertheless unequal to the task of cooling the interior of the old-fashioned diner, with its gleaming metal siding and its open flame grill and its huge griddle in constant use. Both wheeze like an elderly man with emphysema, pushing warm, damp air around, reducing the temperature by a few spare degrees, squeezing some of the moisture from the air.

The front door opens. The night outside is cooler than the air inside, warmed as it is by the ovens and the grill, by the bodies pressed together in the sticky vinyl booths, and the breath of nightair is a welcome relief to those near the door. The newcomer is tall and blonde and lean. Her hair is pulled sharply back from her face, secured at the nape of her neck by a pair of number 2 pencils, yellow against the pale coils of her hair. She's dressed in worn jeans and an old t-shirt, which clings to her torso at the shoulders, down the line of her spine, dark with sweat. Just inside the door, she pauses, takes in the diner in a slow, even survey. There's a moment of stillness, a sort of surprise, when she catches sight of Gina, and the faint undertone of pure breeding about her.

Then, the stranger is ambling down the central aisle, pauses at Gina's booth, standing, one hand on the edge of the table. "Mind if I join you?"

[Gina McClaren] *Kohl rimmed eyes slide from the pink confection in its sweating metal container. Kin still as a burnished fawn sensing a predator, laying motionless in the grass and hoping the wind is just right so as to conceal her existence. Finally, the sense of familiar danger, rage a controlled and tempered thing, barely pulsing from the whip lean norsewoman. Gina licks her lips and responds quietly.*

Aye loves. Take a seat effen yer inclined.

*Her voice is as unexpected as it is enchanting. A one two punch of guttersnipe accent and sweet singsong melody. Soothing as lemonade on a hot day, welcoming as a hammock and a soft breeze. Gina's bangles clink as she moves over slightly, gesturing across from her.*

Ye frem round ere?

[Kora] "Thanks."

The creature folds herself into the opposite bench seat - the gesture is easy and economical, lean and sure. She slides in until her back is against the wall, and sits cross-wise so that she can keep the greater part of the diner in full view, then nips the menu out from where it is tucked between the napkin dispenser, ketchup bottle, and salt and pepper, not yet opening it.

"I've been in Chicago for some moons, now - " she allows, with a neat little twist of her narrow shoulders and the edge of an engaging half-smile written around the generous line of her mouth, " - though I'm not a native." There's a pause as she looks down at the menu, then looks back up at Gina. "What about you - " quiet, underneath, her voice is low and rich - though not so musical or engaging as the kinswoman's singsong patois. " - passing through?"

Then, the hook of her half-smile widens. " - I'm Kora, by the way."

[Gina McClaren] *Long hair is swept over her shoulder as she gathers her milkshake closer, leaning back to regard Kora through dark lashes. A smile quirked around her straw as she sucks up a mouthful of strawberry heaven. An eyebrow darts upwards as the conversation veers to moons and plans. Gina swallows and sets her glass down with a dull clunk, shaking her head.*

Stridin' en circles round the cety. "ave folks wha need me tae stay, sae ah make meself dizzy.

Ah'm Gina McClaren.

[Kora] The creature's shoulders shake with a subdued sort of human. The only sound of her laughter is a faint huff of air, a slightly sharper breath formed by a brief contraction of her diaphragm. The suggestion of it lingers in her tone, though, and in the glint of her fine dark eyes as she cuts a look from the menu back up to Gina.

"I hope those folks appreciate the sacrifice you're making," she replies, at last. " - and have smelling salts on hand, against the chance you might pass out from vertigo. It's a pleasure to meet you, Gina." The smile remains, curved across the expanse of her mouth. She sits easily, her shoulders against the wall, narrow but straight and level, her dark eyes lingering on Gina, watchful and intent. The words It's a pleasure do not sound empty when she offers them. They sound full. They sound meaningful.

"You've been in Chicago for some time, I take it?"

[Kora] (subdued sort of humor!)

[Gina McClaren] Aye, bout a year now reckon. Now, ah'm nae certain exactly who ye are, sae ye'll excuse me effen ah'm a shade rude. Who the fook are ye exactly, sides frem Kora?

*A quirk of her eyebrow, Gina reclaiming her milkshake and squeaking her fingers down the wet container as she watches the predator across the table. Friendly didn't mean an ally necessarily, and Gina'd rather find out when there were people about than later alone. A knee comes up, arm resting there as she glances about the diner. A pudgy waitress in her checkered apron breezes past them on the way to another table, setting down a water for Kora, wordless.*

[Kora] Gina's remark earns her a direct look. It not quite hard, but there is a sort of stiffness underlying it, the sheen of the wolf beneath the young woman's skin. The moon is waxing full somewhere above them, and tempers - no matter how well and truly leashed - are shorter as a consequence.

Kora looks up as the waitress walks by, reaches out for her glass of water, already sweating on the peeling veneer of the tabletop, then cuts a dark-eyed look directly back at Gina. "I apologize, kinswoman." Her voice is low, carefully modulated to the interior of the diner. " - I did not know that you wished more than a name, when you have already guessed at the affiliation.

"My kin call me Kora Eyjólfsdóttir. I'm a Skald. If you knew Kemp Oates, I followed him until his death. Now, Joe Holst is my alpha. Does that answer your concerns?"

[Gina McClaren] *The strider kin earns herself a stern look, and might surprise the Skald in meeting it for the span of several moments. Seconds crawl, each an eternity of rising challenge, before the dusky kinswoman breaks eyecontact with a tilt of her head. Bangles jingle and light toffee colored palms slide upturned across the table. Submission and the brazen intimacy of requested touch. Her eyes slip to the yellowing tabletop as she singsongs.*

Saerry peaches. Nae everytheng wha scents Owl on me es friendly like, smilin oor nae.

Ah kain Kemp. Came 'ere wi' em frem time tae time. Friends wi' Joe n' Thomas tae. Helped em when they found Drew, aye?

Good tae see they've another folk runnin wi' em.

[Adamidas] Food.

Food food food food.

Food.

Looking at her, listening to her, getting a good feel for her right now, people wouldn't know that Amanda Carrick spent a good chunk of her life in a situation that one could consider privileged. Like, for instance, people may or may not know that she went to private school. Had tutors after that stopped being a practical option. People paid to keep secrets and teach her all the right things.

People wouldn't know it to look at her, or to meet her, but Amanda Carrick hadn't been allowed to frequent places like Whitey's.

It is fortunate, however, that this girl isn't Amanda Carrick, because Adam freaking loves places like Whitey's. She makes her way through the door, comes in because her stomach has decided to assert its dominance, and it won. So, there she is, making her way through the front door. hungry, but pleased.

Food food food food foooooood.

[Kora] "Apology accepted," the young woman replies, her voice low, tension still living in the set of her shoulders, in the shape of her body against the wall of the diner, in the careful way she holds herself, still but not still - waiting, watchful - but writing itself out of her expressive mouth and her fine dark eyes.

She is older than most of their kind. Which is to say: not a child. Not a teenager. The babyfat is gone from her face; her features even and adult, if young. She looks not like a high school student - more like a graduate student, the sort who would take a major in philosophy or religion or literary theory rather than something practical, feet-on-the-ground solid.

There is a black choker at her neck, and bracelets, woven leather and knotted cord, marking either wrist, evident when she unlaces one of her hands from the sweating glass of water and stretches it across to meet the kinswoman's palm. Her fingers are wet and cool from the glass. The nails are blunt, painted black sometime in the last two weeks, for all that it has mostly chipped away by now.

"Your caution is admirable," Kora replies, her eyes darting from Gina's hand to her face. " - particularly given the attacks on our kin recently." There's a pause, then, the reasserted curl of a half-smile at the edges of her mouth. " - though if I were a cursed one, or one of their twisted allies, I suspect I'd lie.

The front door opens again, little bells ring out, a narrow, tinny song. Kora, seated with her back to the wall, her left hand on the table, her right stretched out along the spine of the booth, looks over and lifts her right hand by way of greeting, offers the Black Fury the faint curl of a smile along with the gesture.

[Gina McClaren] Ah suspect ye'd lie. An ah'd hopefully catch ye en et, make nice, n' call en the cavalry soon as ah could. Mayhaps even yer Joe. had a bit o badness meself lately, reckon ah'm a shade punchier than ah was.

*For once, the kin's hand is warmer than a garou's. Fingers curling in hello under Kora's before the presence of another wolf has her attention split. Adamidas's recognition of the Fenrir serving to put her further at ease. *

Lo loves. Small world.

[Adamidas] She and Kora are not physically similar.

Adam does still have babyfat. She doesn't look like a woman yet. The Fury is in the awkward space between woman and not. Girl and not. She still has a little bit of babyfat in her cheeks. She has a small mouth, dark eyes and dark hair. She might be growing still, or she might be done at five feet four inches tall. She doesn't wear tall shoes anymore- the platforms are left at home today.

She sees people she knows, and the not-quite-a-girl-but-not-a-woman-and-certainly-not-entirely-human female starts to head over in that direction. To Kora, to Gina, to a familiar face that she knows of but doesn't know yet. Lukas had introduced her as Alethea. She had seemed surprised.

The Fury waves, not a pageant wave, either.

[Kora] Gina's second greeting tugs the Fenrir woman's attention back to her. The creature's eyes are dark. In the right light, it is clear that there are a dark blue - some twilight shade, a fully saturated blue - but otherwise, in the artificial lights of the diner, with the night full of bright lights and deeper shadows outside the windows, they are merely dark. The new greeting earns Gina a different sort of regard. Slower, now - more careful, alive to the minute details of flesh and bone that define the kinswoman.

"Hello, Gina," Kora replies, quiet, touching hands and then withdrawing her fingers. Adamidas approaches, and Kora folds her long legs down from the seat to spare room for the young Black Fury, greeting her - "Adamidas. Join us, yeah?" - when she is close.

Then, her attention cuts back to Gine. "The trouble you had," provisional, that, careful with words, something tugging at the back of her mind. " - was it in this neighborhood? Close?"

[Gina McClaren] Nae.

*A shake of her head, Gina's eyes drifting to the table. Memories she'd prefer remained buried begin unearthing themselves from the careful layers of "I'm Alright" she'd smothered them over the course of the past month. Lips purse, and her head shakes again.*

Nae. Days wander outside Chicago. Felly's are dead now. S'aulrecht. I'm aft tae the Loo.

*Rising from her seat abruptly, Gina offers a quick smile to Adam/Alethea, and makes for the washroom, bangles clinking.*

[Adamidas] Join us?
She heads over, and takes a seat.

The Fury only catches part of the conversation, and part of what was going on. The Fury doesn't have context tow hat is going on, Kora mentions trouble that the pikey had been facing. Goes on to ask if it was in this neighborhood. If it was close. And Gina answers, abruptly, to powder her nose go to the loo?

She blinks once... twice...

"... huh."

She starts to shift a little in her newly found seat.

"... what was that about?"

[Kora] Kora's eyes are fixed on Gina - her attention a close thing, the weight of it cut by the flush of her pale blond lashes, by the way she watches Gina not directly, but sidelong - not the eyes, but the shape of the kinswoman's mouth, the way it I'm alright clashes with the unasked for, unbidden surge of memories.

"I think," Gina excuses herself; Adamidas asks waht it was about. Kora's dark gaze remains fixed on the place where the kinswoman had been sitting, now empty but for the half-finished strawberry shake - for several seconds after Gina has vacated her half of the booth. Then, the Fenrir woman looks up, back to Adam, the twist of her mouth on the bitter side of bittersweet. "I inadvertantly hit a nerve. Dredged up some less-than-ideal memories when I asked where her encounter with the enemy had been."

There's a pause, then. "Give her a few to compose herself."

Or skip out on the bill. Kora doesn't say that bit, though.

[Adamidas] Lips draw in at the sides, at the corners, and she inhales. There's air in her lungs, and it tastes like cooking grease and and pancakes on her tongue. The fury things about this. Did not catch enough of the context to know, but Kora-

Kora...

She's always been good at conveying the message. The Fury's an easy read, at that moment- whatever flickered through her thoughts came across on her face, relayed by the twitch of her muscles, how such praise came slower, now. The Fury exhaled, let the napkins on the table rustle a little.

She put her hands in her lap, sat up straighter.

"... what kind of encounter?"

[Gina McClaren] *Mickey had skipped out on his hefty beer tab in this very diner, leaving Gina no choice but to do the same. That had been almost a year ago, when the windy city had been fresh and full of new faces, instead of crowded with ghosts and bad memories. The pink door to the lady's room swings shut behind her, Gina doubling over the sink to scrub at her face. A deep breath as she looks at herself in the mirror, an ashen reflection of herself staring back forlornly.

She looked like a pasty replica of herself, and she hated it. Scowling at the helpless looking kin in the mirror, who scowls back. Better. Pull it together Pikey. Gina's eyes slide shut as she lets the water burble chill over her fingers, a clean sensation to banish remembered horror and filth. *

[Marni] Someday, there might be a time when Marni isn't hungry. Someday, there may come a time where the very thought of food sends her running to the alley to lose what little she already has in her belly. Someday, there might just be a time where she doesn't want to eat everything in sight then go back for seconds... thirds... tenths. Today? Is not that day.

She's scrounged, she's begged, she's bartered, she's found enough to get her something to eat that's actually cooked and greasy and fattening and omg so fucking good... and a milkshake. Yes. That would be perfect...

And so it is one streetrat is slipping into the diner, dressed in cut-off shorts and a tank top, a pack on her back and flipflops on her feet, and curls atop her head that defy explanation, as does the little mischivious grin that plays across her lips as she makes her way toward the counter and starts emptying her pockets of change, so she can count it.

She has enough.
She has to have enough.

[Kora] "The violent kind," the Skald offers, with an even sort of deadpan that suggests she believes that definition is the best of poor circumstances. There is a faint curl of a shrug that follows, a neat little gesture, lifting the Fenrir woman's narrow shoulders beneath the cotton of her black t-shirt. " - that's an assumption, of course. I mentioned the losses we've taken, the attacks on kin and Garou within the past months. Just this week the doc and I found a pair of cursed ones of their base kin stealing bodies from a mortuary."

Kora pauses, leans and looks out the window, squinting into the darkness, gauging. " - maybe a half-mile from here, perhaps less. Then there was Oliver, and - " the creature looks back to Adamidas. " - well, the retelling would be endless, and you know the worst of them, I think."

Marni enters. The bell rings, quiet, tinny. If she looks up from counting change, she'll find the Skald's dark eyes on her. If she flashes a look of recognition, she'll get a little join us wave.

Kora turns back to Adamidas, then, her voice still low. " - this neighborhood, though, big chunks of it used to be Eagle territory. Since the beginning. We're looking to see what can be salvaged and held, to protect the north flank, you know?"

[Eddie Vaako] Two last puffs wait to be tasted in the stub of a thin brown cigar that smells faintly of the sorts of spices one can never really name. The fingers of one hand pause, hooked like the talons of a hawk against the door as Eddie's lean, tall form turns in a slight nod to propriety. He smokes the rest outside and flicks the butt away.

The lanky detective is hard faced. The angles and planes of his features severe- something that could be handsome under the right light, but that was more than a little while ago. bags bracketing pale green eyes seem only to augment them, and the chill orbs move restlessly. Lashing against the interior of the diner with an old professional's confidence.

For all that he seems just another part of the Chicago around him, Ed's clothes set him a bit apart from the neighborhood. Tastefully dressed in a charcoal mock turtleneck that does its part to favor a physique as savagely slim as his face, broken up only by broad shoulders and a stylish leather jacket that hangs to his thighs. The snakeskin boots might be a bit much. Expensive rather than classy. slacks complete the picture, and the hints of an ancient line of Furies in face and form are also jarring. This one has little right to be alive, really.

Exhaustion that cloaks the broad shoulders seems strangely held off by something. A false sort of energy that thrums along his long form. He's on a stool at the bar with a brief hop. Powerful, long fingered hands flick against his jacket in an old grooming ritual that seems stamped into his bones, adjusting himself as he looks up and quirks an eyebrow at the waitress.

That's when he remembers to take off the sunglasses. Sheesh. Its midnight. No wonder things were so dark.

As the bit of plastic clatters to the counter, he looks around again- then does a double take. Hey. That's Addie.

[Adamidas] "There's enough people in Chicago to cover it, take people out of the Brotherhood, , get some spiritual backup, ask the cockroaches for consistent information. lets rats patrol, perform a spot-defense. Find out who is taking part of the north side and get their asses to expand," she says. Maybe there's a tactical mind behind those brown curls. Maybe she's got a lot going for her. Maybe she would be great.

Maybe was a lot to ask, but this Amazon of Diana's concern wasn't on the war first... not the war that people think of. More sacred duty. More of what she was born for.

Her eyes aren't on the outside, they're on the bathroom door. Or, rather, in the direction of the bathroom.

"We don't have time to be reactive," she continues on the thought, "that's going to be prime real estate. Losing that territory is going to be some kind of triumph for them. Spirits will filter through before spirals do."

She starts to stand up. And she does stand, looks over her shoulder to see0

Oh hey, it's Eddie. She looks at him and gives him an upward nod.

[Marni] she gets the piles of change into some semblance of order, and then looks around - feeling someone watching her. Not all together unusual, of course, but this is different - it has a weight and intensity. There is recognition, and she flashes a little grin and nod, before she turns to finish counting and then make her order.

"Ok. I got $6.82. I need the biggest burger that can buy, with fries on the side, and all the fixings and oh my god bacon, can you do that? And a chocolate shake... if there's enough, pleaaaaaaaaase tell me there's enough... if not? I'll do dishes, or sweep floors, or whatever.."

The waitress just shakes her head, chuckles and puts in the order. It might be enough, or she might make it up from her tip jar. Marni in cute mode is hard to resist... just wait till she's got a babybump to work the cute factor with. Unstoppable.

..and then she turns and makes her way toward Adam and Kora, her belly audibly rumbling as she flops into a seat and shakes free from her pack. "Oh my god I think I could eat a whole COW if it wasn't moving too fast - and I chased it through a grill, or something."

[Gina McClaren] *Smeared kohl is touched up, Gina pushing out of the washroom one hip at a time, that soft swagger of the truly hippy. Her hands are wet, and there's the noise of jewelry clinking raucous as she shakes moisture from her fingers. Air dry. Denim daisy-dukes are tugged down caramel thighs, as though that would make them any more acceptable.

It would seem Kora's attracted company, a full moon bringing out all sorts of beasts tonight. Including one Detective Eddie Vaako. Freshly glossed lips quirk wry as she moves past the man on his stool, voice a teasing lullaby.*

Detective... This yer beat?

[Eddie Vaako] Anger. At that table over there. Where Addie is. Sure, he'd probably have eventually found his attention drawn there.. much as some of the other patrons may even now be casting the occasional very worried glance toward those who would once have been among Man for very different reasons...

But the Fury being there, well- it changes things more than a little. Ed's attention remains on Addy. His gaze cast over one shoulder. Adamidas, Kora, Marni.. one can hear the well oiled brain reaching the obvious conclusion.

All at once, the rangy cop turns back to the cheap laminated countertop, his fingers spread and braced against the surface as he stares at the space between his hands and thinks. On the one hand- its not real safe over there, just now. On the other, who knows what rules govern this kind of encounter.. maybe not going over is rude. Rude is also not safe.

In the end he settles at the uneasy comfort of, at the very least, not having the bunch of them behind him if they decide to do something intense.

A brief nod to himself and fingertips chime against the nondescript porcelain of his coffee cup as he sweeps it from the table. He nods to the waitress and points at their table. Ed's voice is impossibly deep. A sub vocal thrum that batters its way inside the chest.

"Guess I'm gonna be with them, toots." A long finger thrusts toward the table of... things.. and Eddie slides from the stool like a snake.

Then the hips came by. The sort that makes him feel naked without a pair of bongo drums. A stark black eyebrow climbs its way up the tall detective's forehead and his face tracks those hips like an aircraft gunner. Pure, lecherous precision. At least it doesn't seem a conscious act. Her voice jerks his face back up to hers.

"Wh- huh? Oh. Yeah.. yeah sorta. How's it goin... uhhhh... Gina? Right?"

[Kora] "I'm familiar with a good chunk of it," Kora replies, her voice low, her mouth twisting into a half-smile that is as much a container for loss as it is an expression of her good nature. "Kemp and I lived not far from her. We patrolled around Silence's territory. Now that Silence is gone, Joe and I - Thomas, when he's back - are moving up here."

Marni arrives, and Kora offers her a quick half-smile, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a handful of bills. She hadn't ordered anything and given the state of her clothing, she cannot have much more money than the Bone Gnawer. There's just a glass of water on the table. Nevertheless, the Skald pulls out a pair of crumpled bills - two fives - and tosses them onto the table. "It isn't enough for a whole cow, but - "

Then, sliding out of the seat, she gains her feet and stands tall - taller than most in the room, with the possible exception of the detective - , stretching her body through the spine, expanding the space between the vertebrae. " - it'll get you closer. Sorry, though. I've gotta run." She taps her temple lightly, " - see you soon, yeah?"

---

And with that, the Skald takes her leave. She passes Eddie and Gina, offering the former a brief, "Detective," and Gina a quiet, " - good to meet you," before she pushes open the door and heads out into the warm dark night. The last they'll see at her is her pale hair gleaming in the darkness as she disappears into the alley opposite, her narrow frame swallowed by the shadows.

[Kora] [apologies darlings! bedtime for lizes was an hour ago! :) ]