[Adrian] It's night in Grant Park, and along walks a returned Indiana Jones kin, cigarette in his fingers as he appreciates the for once clear skies. There's the barest sliver of moons in the sky and the way is lit by the lamps along the path far more than the stars. He is, as ever, perfectly dressed and messily (designedly so) coiffed.
[Kora] The days have been blistering, the nights steaming. Two hours after sundown and the temperature is still in the mid-80s, with suffocating humidity. Outdoors feels like the inside of a sauna, or the humid atmosphere inside the dome over an indoor swimming pool, midsummer. There's a breeze from the lake, but it is so warm and humid that it feels more like some hot oceanic current, wretched and tropical, than the tradewinds one imagines close to the waterfront. People with air conditioning disappear inside and stay there, venturing out only for ice cream or beer. People without - some of them suffocate and die. Others sit on their stoops until 3 in morning, open fire hydrants, soak in cool waters in the tubs.
Kora sits on the retaining wall overlooking the dark lake, yearning for a breeze. She's dressed casually, in worn jeans and white camisole that leaves her shoulders and arms bare. There's enough muscle definition that her narrow frame looks rather less narrow when she's dressed in such clothing, the deltoid, biceps and triceps muscles all visible beneath her skin, which is pale even in mid-summer. The camisole is dark with sweat down the line of her spine, and her fine pale hair is damp from the humidity in the air itself, twisted messily up and away from her neck and body, clipped on top of her head.
Her heels are propped on the bottom rung of the railing, and she's watching for Trent who is meant to bring dinner. Instead, Adrian comes into view first. "Hey," she calls out, stealing his attention from his cigarette. Her voice is low, but it carries easily, "Adrian. You're back, yeah?"
[Victor Oseragigte] The Lovin' Spoonful LIES. Maybe in a drier clime the night is a different world, but here where the humidity is so very thick they've merely traded a bright blazing heat for a dark crushing one. It envelops. It cloaks. It smothers.
Victor might weather it better than some of his tribe, having spent time in some pretty sizzling cities during past summers, but it's still distinctly inimical to him, and he'd far rather be climbing. A desire for companionship draws him down, though, and he moves through the oppressive atmosphere, headed into Grant Park where so often he's found Septmates in the past.
[Trent Brumby] It's too fricken hot. He'd like to stay indoors under the air conditioning, but heading out to the lake is the next best thing. He wouldn't risk swimming in waters in this city, it's not like being in the wilderness or heading out to parts of inhabited sea shores. Kora had wanted to grab some dinner and there was no way he was eating that processed trash that is served out on the vendors at the park, or grabbing some greased laced pizza from a nearby store.
When he comes into sight he's not carrying an actual picnic basket, but he's got a pack over his shoulder that's even got a rolled up blanket attached to the base of it, wound up in buckled straps. It's a well used bag, something he uses on single day hiking trips. There's sandwiches, some marinated meats in containers, some Lebanese style bread, along with dips, some cheeses, olives and fruits. It's finger food, along with a loaf of banana and walnut bread for something a little sweeter. In a small cooler ice rattles and stacked between the cubes are several bottles of water and an few beers. Kora didn't seem to favour the wines.
For once he's in some denim shorts and he's got some hairy legs, dark like that mop on his brow. A tank bares his arms, some shoes are the converse sort, something more casual and he can get away with wearing with small socks. It's a far sight from slacks, jeans and buttoned shirts or greased work clothes.
As he approaches, he eyes who's with Kora, curiously, and once spotting it's Adrian he lifts his spare hand in one of those half ass finger waves. It's more like some hand signal, really.
[Adrian] Hey, he hears in a voice he knows well, and it tugs his lips into something near a smile; as ever, there's that reserve, that bit of distance, but it doesn't stop him from drawing near, from leaning against the handles of the ladder that curve up and over the wall to dive down into the ground and provide security. You're back, yeah?
"Ja," he says, so slightly different from Kora's 'yeah'. "I'm back. Did you miss me?" He stands companionably, easier than he is with many Garou, or people in general. And look, there's Trent in approach - he, too, gets that near-smile, as warm as Adrian gets. And Adrian's hand, too, lifts in a little wave.
"Everything's been well, I trust."
[Trent Brumby] [please note: this are not small denim hot shorts.]
[Trent Brumby] [he has manly shorts, like surf ones, dude. just had to clarify. *ahem*]
[Kora] "Terribly," the Skald tosses back, with this casual half-smile that lifts the right-most corner of her mouth in an expression that would be a smirk on some other woman. Her mouth is generous, though, and there's an underlying curve that warms the expression to something easier, still direct - but wry rather than caustic. "Abominably."
She pronounces the words with a certain care. Each syllable, each vowel. "It's good to see you back, though. I suppose school starts up soon. Do you have a few weeks off first, at least?"
Then, Trent approaches, visible from another angle. Adrian waves and Kora lifts her chin - that sidelong, animal cant - turns her head to follow his line of sight. Spying Trent, she looks him up and down and lets out a brief, low whistle. Construction-worker style. "Nice legs," she says, lifting her chin again to gesture back to Adrian. " - look who I found."
More than anyone else, Trent will notice Kora's most basic concession to the heat. Not the camisole in place of her usual tees, but the flip-flops on her feet, in place of her dedicated boots.
[Victor Oseragigte] (( Suuuuure he does. ))
Shorts are a good idea, one Victor approves of. His own are a pair of faded red cargo shorts, the sort with pockets on the thighs. The black tanktop is more familiar to people, and the hard-toed black work boots that go up to his mid-calf.
Familiar voices draw him across an open field, coming up on them partially obscured by a low hedge of aromatic bushes. His hair is tied back into a pony tail, the better to keep it off the back of his neck.
[Trent Brumby] Trent smirks at the wolf whistle. "You're not treating me like an object, are you? I might have to protest," he tells Kora as he approaches the two of them. She knows he would do no such thing, and despite his Black Fury heritage (or maybe because of it), he'd rather be treated like a possession. It's his thing. He had thrown a look down at his legs, pausing when he got closer, taking them in before looking back up.
More seriously, he asks: "What's wrong with them?" The man works out, has an active lifestyle and career too. But he damn well knows it's the dark hair that they're talking about. It's not ape style, but the guy does have, well, guy legs. He only waxes other parts of his body. Don't ask.
Swinging his pack down, he sets it on the ground with the cooler and smiles, then, to Adrian. It reaches his pale eyes easily, offering warmth. "Adrian, it's good to see you." He means it. He's been having a hell of a time. Adrian is the only one he actually talks to about such issues.
[Adrian] Adrian does not deign to wear shorts. He wears summer cotton or linen trousers, airy and light, and looks - to use the parlance - fabulous. Not flamboyant, but like he could well be on a runway somewhere, fiercely and anonymously showcasing someone else's line of clothing. The distance and aloof bearing are his thing, much like the submissive nature is Trent's - it's odd, or amusing maybe, that he and the Fury have become such friends since Adrian came to Chicago.
"Good to see you too, Trent. We should have drinks soon, or something." His accent is there, mostly British tonight - the hints of Other exoticism are light, mostly hidden. "And there's absolutely nothing wrong with your legs, don't let her fool you."
Somewhere behind Adrian, Victor approaches. For the moment, though, Adrian at least is oblivious.
[Kora] "Make signs, yeah? Come up with a nice chant. And if you're really feeling aggrieved," the faintest gleam across her dark eyes, some shifting reflection of the ambient light, illuminating and then gone again. "chain yourself to my front door. That would get my attention. Maybe I'd even change my ways."
Kora slides neatly from the railing, her feet hitting the ground beside Adrian neatly, lightly, quietly. Taller than everyone else in her soon-to-be pack, she not quite eye level with either of them, but the trio is still of a height with each other, ranged like strange siblings, dark and light and in between. "You should," Kora echoes Adrian's suggestion that the two kinsman get together for drinks quietly, then appends, " - and you could join us for dinner, tonight." There's a brief lift of her brow in Trent's direction by way of question, but she knows he will have brought more than enough food.
Her dark eyes don't linger there, though. While they talk, she looks off over Adrian's shoulder, keen to the approach of the partially obscured figure behind the hedges.
[Victor Oseragigte] The hedges don't long obscure or slow him. He vaults his way in from the darkness, landing in a pool of light beneath a nearby lamp post. He chooses to do so not quite behind Adrian but off to the side, away a little, so that he doesn't put them too much on edge with his sudden arrival. There's a good long pause there in that circle of light, so that they can all get a look at him, and then he nods and moves to join them, every step certain and precise.
[Trent Brumby] "I'll make note." And he may do just that thing. Maybe he'll even enlist some help with the chaining against the said door. He'd have to know when she's about though, he'd hate to be stuck at the church like that. The people in the hood would likely think he was doing some poor reenactment of a crucifixion and would want to make it real. He's seen that neighbourhood. Maybe she'd have to settle for his apartment instead.
He watches her drop down to the ground, then nods, easily accepting such an idea. Looking to Adrian he adds: "Plenty of food."
"How was the dig?"
[Adrian] Adrian is largely in between because he's sunburnt, and freckled with it - dark and shadows do away with much of the pink, but if one looks close, his nose and forehead are near to peeling, as are his shoulders and chest under his shirt.
"Thank you, I will," he says to the invitation to dinner, as light and easy as his companions. Only when Kora looks behind him, over his shoulder, so, does he turn to look as well; it's been relaxing, his time away. He's rusty. But when he sees who's there in the lamplight, there's a smile similar to the ones that Kora and Trent got, and a nod towards the Wendigo. "Hallo, Victor," he offers - tone no different than what he uses with his Tribesmate and her mate. He's pleased to see Victor as well, but that's all.
"What have I missed here, in my absence? I'm pleased to see all three of you well."
[Kora] "Victor," Adrian turns when the Wendigo approaches. Kora's dark eyes are already on him as he lands in the pool of light and lingers there so as not to startle. She greets him when he is close, her voice low and easy and confident. "You know Adrian. I don't think you've met Trent." She cuts a direct glance back at the kinsman with the pure blood that marks him as Black Fury to all their feral senses. This is a lingering sort of look, her eyes on his face before she turns back to Victor to finish the introduction, "He's mine. My mate, yeah?"
Then, back to Trent. "Baby, this is Victor, he's Wendigo, and runs with Karl and the rest."
Adrian asks what he missed; Kora gives him this sort of still, wry look. He missed everything, and nothing. There have been no deaths for weeks, and the battles that consume her life - these terrible spasms of violence - seize and then are finished. Until the next one. The ghost of the last battle is on her mouth, the promise of the next one under her skin. Trent has set down both his pack and his cooler, and - hungry, thirsty - Kora goes foraging in the latter to find something to satisfy one or the other. Or both. She straightens, a dark bottle dripping wet from the melting ice inside in her right hand, look back to Adrian.
"It's been an eventful summer, but no one's died since - " she remembers them. She remembers them all. "Moving Mountain. The Sentinels are gone, though. Joey and the rest. Blood Summons disappeared. I've not seen Lila in weeks." The world shifts. Garou come and go in the small urban Caern. She says nothing about the break-up of her own pack. Adrian knows something of that. Joe's gone. That was all she said, when the anger had filtered away.
[Trent Brumby] "Nice to meet you Victor," this is accompanied by an offering of a hand to shake. His eyes are a pale gray, his skin a little darker to hint at mixed Caucasian, more obvious in the summer where it darkens even further. After shaking the Wendigo's hand, Trent steps back and moves over to the bag.
He waits until Kora's finished telling Adrian what's been happening before he speaks up, glancing to Kora with raised brows. "Are we going to spread out a blanket to sit? Easier to lounge with this sort of food. It's no hot dogs." There's a slight smirk there with that last little jab.
[Victor Oseragigte] He smiles to Adrian, to Kora, then to the new face. If he makes much of her evident possessiveness it doesn't show, just nodding at her claim, acknowledging it properly. A hand is offered to Trent, a simple, friendly gesture, almost at the same time apparently. The resulting shake is firm but not testing.
Adrian asked what's happened. Kora's report tells him things he does not know, so he adds to it. "Moonrunners have another. Plenty of trouble to watch for. Angels and octopi." He shook his head faintly. Trent, unfamiliar with him, might not be used to his terse style of speech, brief, starting and stopping, nothing more than necesary typically. His tone is not unfriendly, it's simply that he isn't given to speaking heavily, nor too good at it, either.
[Adrian] Absently, Adrian takes a final drag from his cigarette and flicks the butt away, then reaches out a hand to take something, to help. "Not a bad idea. And there's nothing wrong with those daft American hot dogs if they're had once a month or less." This is amused, and assuming Trent allows it the two kin are laying out the picnic . . . as Adrian's mobile rings. When his hands are free again, he checks it and grimaces. "Technically, I have a few weeks off. Caller ID says otherwise, though - dinner and drinks soon?"
[Kora] "Since you went to all this trouble," Kora replies to Trent quietly, her eyes sparking only at his last little jab about the hot dogs. "then yeah. I'll give you a hand."
The Skald is a few seconds late, though. The two kinsman are already doing the work, spreading the blanket on the clipped grass bordering the park, close to the drop-off where the railing circles the retaining wall, a view of the lake spreading out over the Eastern horizon, dark and glittering with the city's reflected light, and then simply dark. While they lay out the picnic, Kora looks back to Victor. "Angels and octopi?" she queries, with this professional sort of interest.
Then, the blanket is open, and Adrian's making his excuses after checking his mobile phone. "Trent's working on something, and I'd like you to get involved. Maybe some of your colleagues from school, too. Give him a ring soon, yeah?" Though there's only the faintest lilt upward with the appended yeah. "It's good to see you, Adrian. Be safe."
That, by way of farewell before she folds herself down to sit cross-legged on the blanket, easing her toes out of her flipflops. "There's plenty of food, Victor. You're welcome to join us," she tells the Wendigo with a gesture to - in fact - join them.
[Trent Brumby] Trent lets Adrian help him set out the picnic blanket for them all to sit on, and to unpack various containers of prepared food. Not all of it was made by him, but picked up at places across the city. Places he trusts that has good food and hygiene, and preferably the closest to organic he can get.
When Adrian declares he has to go, he looks up and nods with a small smile. "Give us a call when you're free." He's flexible with things like that, and wouldn't mind catching up with the other Kinfolk again. "I'll tell you about the working bee I'm trying to organize for the river." Something for them to discuss.
Kora already said as such, and he shoots her an apologetic look as he almost spoke over her. Then with another glance back to Adrian, he tells the other, "I'll catch you later."
Trent's still standing as the Fenrir makes herself comfortable on the picnic, and when she invites the other Garou to come and sit and eat with them Trent waits to see if he takes the invitation. If he does, he waits for Victor to sit down before lowering himself down, leaving his feet off the blanket and reclining sideways on his left elbow.
[Victor Oseragigte] He turns as Adrian prepares to leave, nodding again to him. "Welcome back," he offers with a quiet smile, before he turns to debate intruding on Trent and Kora's picnic. They did have food... and the Charm's presence was making his stomach rumble again. Victor finally walks over to settle lightly at the offered point.
"Thanks. Yeah. Big octopus attacked the caern. BIG octopus. Also killed some angels Monday. Spirit at the caern has the details. Nasty stuff. Go for the wings. Pile on the guardians first." Sounds like advice, which is what it was.
[Adrian] ((Thanks for inviting me in!))
[Kora] Kora's flipflops sit neatly on the grass beside the blanket, and she sits close to both her mate and the cooler with the drinks. She already has an open beer - dark glass slick with moisture from the cooler - resting not on the blanket, but nestled into the grass beside her flipflops, but she digs around in the cooler finding bottles of water and beer, offering them, pale brows raised by way of question, to Victor and Trent.
This is the sort of spread on which you can graze all evening, and Kora reaches for bread, cheese, and olives. "I've been hungry for olives," she tells Trent, shooting him a look back over her shoulder, her eyes shadowed, the edge of her cheek and curve of her mouth illuminated by the lamps flanking the path, the city's orange glow dampened as it is by the humidity. "These are brilliant." Then, she casts a look back to Victor, listening quietly, seriously as he offers his terse account of his recent battles, accepting both giant octopi and angels as part of their world.
"Roman and I fought a huge bane made of - oil, poison and trash at the river's edge a week or so ago. It was a close thing, but some of the water elementals healed Roman, after, and cleansed me, too. Trent's organizing a river clean up by way of," a glance back at the kinsman, the glint of her eyes, the fond, possessive curve of her mouth, " - chiminage, maybe. Thanks and - well cleansing. I've asked the other Fenrir kin to get involved, but you should pass on the word if you know anyone who'd be interested."
[Trent Brumby] "Glad to be of service," he says lowly to Kora, meeting her over the shoulder look with a smile in the corners of his mouth. He watches her reach for food to eat, glad that he's picked foods that she seems to enjoy. They often had spreads like this in his other Tribe, some sort of cultural thing that, no doubt, went back to their Greek heritage.
He takes a water with a quiet thanks and breaks off some flat bread for the dips, he prefers the spiced one, red with chilli and yoghurt as a base. It burns his mouth but after the sweetness of it has faded. While they talk, he looks between the two of them, nodding as his chewed food is moved from his cheek and swallowed.
Focused on Victor, he speaks quietly. "I really have no idea what I'm doing, but I can't sit around and do nothing. Your Tribe, they know a lot about honouring the spirits, especially those of nature?" It's clear where this could be going. Trent wants advice and he's not ashamed to ask outright.
[Victor Oseragigte] He looks to Trent at Kora's description of his environmental activities. Though he glances to the food, he doesn't yet reach for anything, instead nodding to Trent.
"Say we do. Sounds like you have a good start. Just need to drum up more people. Maybe some publicity. Walkers are good for that. Theurges to talk to the spirits of the river, little covert help. Work both sides."
[Sean Douglas-Pinkerton] (is this an open scene, and may I ask where everyone is?)
[Kora] (it is indeed an open scene! everyone is sitting on a blanket near the lake, eating. I will have to go to bed shortly, but you folks can continue without me when I go!)
[Trent Brumby] "I've been contacted by two others, not much more than that. I'm hoping for the end of the month, and even if there's not enough people, I'll go down with who's willing." Another piece of bread is swiped through the open container of dip, his eyes darting back up from it to the Wendigo. "I don't know any Theurge's."
"And what sort of chiminage or offerings do you give a River? Aside from offering to clean it up and saying prayers?" It's an honest question that is asked of both Garou present, glancing between them as he popped food into his mouth again. The Kinfolk is relaxed and comfortable, lounging with them.
[Kora] Kora's smile spreads in response to Trent's. It's a quiet exchange, mostly in passing, mostly cast in shadow. She looks at him, direct and sure in that moment, but her attention does not linger. When Victor speaks, she flashes a look back to him, "I'm relying on our kin for publicity. Which reminds me," she continues, flashing a look back to Trent. "I spoke to Izzy. Asked her to get the PD or the police union on something involved. She should give you a call soon, yeah?" Let me know if she doesn't goes unspoekn, underneath.
Then, to Victor, "I don't know of any Glass Walkers in the city other than the Guardians and Sinclair." When Trent asks the next question - chiminage for a River, she returns, this quiet spark in her eyes, "Skinny-dipping."
She is only half-kidding. "I could do some research on it, though. The history of the river, right? Find some way of encapsulating that into a story we tell at the moots." To Victor, then, " - any other ideas?"
[Trent Brumby] "Skinny dipping?" Trent is laughing quietly. "You want me arrested." Shaking his head he opened up his bottle of water and took a good drink from it, amusing himself with the thoughts of a mass crowd leaping into the Chicago River, naked. It's certainly something the Black Fury's would do. Sky clad. It's almost tempting.
[Victor Oseragigte] He listens intently to them both, and when Kora turns back to him he can smile and nod certainly.
"Two of my packmates are Theurges. Gnawer and Walker. They should be able to help. But chiminage is easy. It's a river. Rivers like to be clean. They like to flow freely. Clean it. Get rid of the clogs. And the river will happily help you. River's history is a good place to look. Probably its path's been changed. Might not be able to completely make it happy... give it its old course. But should be able to offer it things it wants."
Though not a Theurge, Victor's decently versed in the spirit ways. After all, ALL Garou must deal with spirits on some level, and the Philodox have their own gifts and rites that call upon them.
[Trent Brumby] "Could you pass on the word then?" Trent asks Victor a little more humbled. "I'd like to get in contact with them, if that's alright, talk and see what they suggest and what they can offer."
"It'd be nice to make this more then a one off thing. If not just for the river but for other places around the city. As much as I enjoy the bonfires at seasonal changes, there should be plenty of reasons for Kin to get together." And for Garou as well, but he doesn't add that, not in front of two garou. That would be out of line for him.
[Kora] "No," she throws back, easily, laughing underneath her breath, the hint of it lingering in her lean body even when it doesn't imprint itself upon her voice, shaping the pattern of her breathing even when she does not laugh out loud. And she says something to him, just mouthing the words, then glances back between Trent and Victor, listening quietly, eating olives and hummus and cheese and flatbread, exclaiming over the tabouleh with a pleasure that Trent might have assumed she reserved only for greasy pizzas. Returning to the olives, savouring the salty richness.
(I am enjoying the scene, but have already outstayed my bedtime! Please assume Kora hangs around and listens i that is convenient, or wanders off in search of: 1. the ladies' room; 2. something to kill! if she needs to wander off.)
[Kora] Mouthed at Trent, with a flashing-quick grin. I just want you naked. - immediately after the bit about being arrested.
to Trent Brumby
[Kora] The days have been blistering, the nights steaming. Two hours after sundown and the temperature is still in the mid-80s, with suffocating humidity. Outdoors feels like the inside of a sauna, or the humid atmosphere inside the dome over an indoor swimming pool, midsummer. There's a breeze from the lake, but it is so warm and humid that it feels more like some hot oceanic current, wretched and tropical, than the tradewinds one imagines close to the waterfront. People with air conditioning disappear inside and stay there, venturing out only for ice cream or beer. People without - some of them suffocate and die. Others sit on their stoops until 3 in morning, open fire hydrants, soak in cool waters in the tubs.
Kora sits on the retaining wall overlooking the dark lake, yearning for a breeze. She's dressed casually, in worn jeans and white camisole that leaves her shoulders and arms bare. There's enough muscle definition that her narrow frame looks rather less narrow when she's dressed in such clothing, the deltoid, biceps and triceps muscles all visible beneath her skin, which is pale even in mid-summer. The camisole is dark with sweat down the line of her spine, and her fine pale hair is damp from the humidity in the air itself, twisted messily up and away from her neck and body, clipped on top of her head.
Her heels are propped on the bottom rung of the railing, and she's watching for Trent who is meant to bring dinner. Instead, Adrian comes into view first. "Hey," she calls out, stealing his attention from his cigarette. Her voice is low, but it carries easily, "Adrian. You're back, yeah?"
[Victor Oseragigte] The Lovin' Spoonful LIES. Maybe in a drier clime the night is a different world, but here where the humidity is so very thick they've merely traded a bright blazing heat for a dark crushing one. It envelops. It cloaks. It smothers.
Victor might weather it better than some of his tribe, having spent time in some pretty sizzling cities during past summers, but it's still distinctly inimical to him, and he'd far rather be climbing. A desire for companionship draws him down, though, and he moves through the oppressive atmosphere, headed into Grant Park where so often he's found Septmates in the past.
[Trent Brumby] It's too fricken hot. He'd like to stay indoors under the air conditioning, but heading out to the lake is the next best thing. He wouldn't risk swimming in waters in this city, it's not like being in the wilderness or heading out to parts of inhabited sea shores. Kora had wanted to grab some dinner and there was no way he was eating that processed trash that is served out on the vendors at the park, or grabbing some greased laced pizza from a nearby store.
When he comes into sight he's not carrying an actual picnic basket, but he's got a pack over his shoulder that's even got a rolled up blanket attached to the base of it, wound up in buckled straps. It's a well used bag, something he uses on single day hiking trips. There's sandwiches, some marinated meats in containers, some Lebanese style bread, along with dips, some cheeses, olives and fruits. It's finger food, along with a loaf of banana and walnut bread for something a little sweeter. In a small cooler ice rattles and stacked between the cubes are several bottles of water and an few beers. Kora didn't seem to favour the wines.
For once he's in some denim shorts and he's got some hairy legs, dark like that mop on his brow. A tank bares his arms, some shoes are the converse sort, something more casual and he can get away with wearing with small socks. It's a far sight from slacks, jeans and buttoned shirts or greased work clothes.
As he approaches, he eyes who's with Kora, curiously, and once spotting it's Adrian he lifts his spare hand in one of those half ass finger waves. It's more like some hand signal, really.
[Adrian] Hey, he hears in a voice he knows well, and it tugs his lips into something near a smile; as ever, there's that reserve, that bit of distance, but it doesn't stop him from drawing near, from leaning against the handles of the ladder that curve up and over the wall to dive down into the ground and provide security. You're back, yeah?
"Ja," he says, so slightly different from Kora's 'yeah'. "I'm back. Did you miss me?" He stands companionably, easier than he is with many Garou, or people in general. And look, there's Trent in approach - he, too, gets that near-smile, as warm as Adrian gets. And Adrian's hand, too, lifts in a little wave.
"Everything's been well, I trust."
[Trent Brumby] [please note: this are not small denim hot shorts.]
[Trent Brumby] [he has manly shorts, like surf ones, dude. just had to clarify. *ahem*]
[Kora] "Terribly," the Skald tosses back, with this casual half-smile that lifts the right-most corner of her mouth in an expression that would be a smirk on some other woman. Her mouth is generous, though, and there's an underlying curve that warms the expression to something easier, still direct - but wry rather than caustic. "Abominably."
She pronounces the words with a certain care. Each syllable, each vowel. "It's good to see you back, though. I suppose school starts up soon. Do you have a few weeks off first, at least?"
Then, Trent approaches, visible from another angle. Adrian waves and Kora lifts her chin - that sidelong, animal cant - turns her head to follow his line of sight. Spying Trent, she looks him up and down and lets out a brief, low whistle. Construction-worker style. "Nice legs," she says, lifting her chin again to gesture back to Adrian. " - look who I found."
More than anyone else, Trent will notice Kora's most basic concession to the heat. Not the camisole in place of her usual tees, but the flip-flops on her feet, in place of her dedicated boots.
[Victor Oseragigte] (( Suuuuure he does. ))
Shorts are a good idea, one Victor approves of. His own are a pair of faded red cargo shorts, the sort with pockets on the thighs. The black tanktop is more familiar to people, and the hard-toed black work boots that go up to his mid-calf.
Familiar voices draw him across an open field, coming up on them partially obscured by a low hedge of aromatic bushes. His hair is tied back into a pony tail, the better to keep it off the back of his neck.
[Trent Brumby] Trent smirks at the wolf whistle. "You're not treating me like an object, are you? I might have to protest," he tells Kora as he approaches the two of them. She knows he would do no such thing, and despite his Black Fury heritage (or maybe because of it), he'd rather be treated like a possession. It's his thing. He had thrown a look down at his legs, pausing when he got closer, taking them in before looking back up.
More seriously, he asks: "What's wrong with them?" The man works out, has an active lifestyle and career too. But he damn well knows it's the dark hair that they're talking about. It's not ape style, but the guy does have, well, guy legs. He only waxes other parts of his body. Don't ask.
Swinging his pack down, he sets it on the ground with the cooler and smiles, then, to Adrian. It reaches his pale eyes easily, offering warmth. "Adrian, it's good to see you." He means it. He's been having a hell of a time. Adrian is the only one he actually talks to about such issues.
[Adrian] Adrian does not deign to wear shorts. He wears summer cotton or linen trousers, airy and light, and looks - to use the parlance - fabulous. Not flamboyant, but like he could well be on a runway somewhere, fiercely and anonymously showcasing someone else's line of clothing. The distance and aloof bearing are his thing, much like the submissive nature is Trent's - it's odd, or amusing maybe, that he and the Fury have become such friends since Adrian came to Chicago.
"Good to see you too, Trent. We should have drinks soon, or something." His accent is there, mostly British tonight - the hints of Other exoticism are light, mostly hidden. "And there's absolutely nothing wrong with your legs, don't let her fool you."
Somewhere behind Adrian, Victor approaches. For the moment, though, Adrian at least is oblivious.
[Kora] "Make signs, yeah? Come up with a nice chant. And if you're really feeling aggrieved," the faintest gleam across her dark eyes, some shifting reflection of the ambient light, illuminating and then gone again. "chain yourself to my front door. That would get my attention. Maybe I'd even change my ways."
Kora slides neatly from the railing, her feet hitting the ground beside Adrian neatly, lightly, quietly. Taller than everyone else in her soon-to-be pack, she not quite eye level with either of them, but the trio is still of a height with each other, ranged like strange siblings, dark and light and in between. "You should," Kora echoes Adrian's suggestion that the two kinsman get together for drinks quietly, then appends, " - and you could join us for dinner, tonight." There's a brief lift of her brow in Trent's direction by way of question, but she knows he will have brought more than enough food.
Her dark eyes don't linger there, though. While they talk, she looks off over Adrian's shoulder, keen to the approach of the partially obscured figure behind the hedges.
[Victor Oseragigte] The hedges don't long obscure or slow him. He vaults his way in from the darkness, landing in a pool of light beneath a nearby lamp post. He chooses to do so not quite behind Adrian but off to the side, away a little, so that he doesn't put them too much on edge with his sudden arrival. There's a good long pause there in that circle of light, so that they can all get a look at him, and then he nods and moves to join them, every step certain and precise.
[Trent Brumby] "I'll make note." And he may do just that thing. Maybe he'll even enlist some help with the chaining against the said door. He'd have to know when she's about though, he'd hate to be stuck at the church like that. The people in the hood would likely think he was doing some poor reenactment of a crucifixion and would want to make it real. He's seen that neighbourhood. Maybe she'd have to settle for his apartment instead.
He watches her drop down to the ground, then nods, easily accepting such an idea. Looking to Adrian he adds: "Plenty of food."
"How was the dig?"
[Adrian] Adrian is largely in between because he's sunburnt, and freckled with it - dark and shadows do away with much of the pink, but if one looks close, his nose and forehead are near to peeling, as are his shoulders and chest under his shirt.
"Thank you, I will," he says to the invitation to dinner, as light and easy as his companions. Only when Kora looks behind him, over his shoulder, so, does he turn to look as well; it's been relaxing, his time away. He's rusty. But when he sees who's there in the lamplight, there's a smile similar to the ones that Kora and Trent got, and a nod towards the Wendigo. "Hallo, Victor," he offers - tone no different than what he uses with his Tribesmate and her mate. He's pleased to see Victor as well, but that's all.
"What have I missed here, in my absence? I'm pleased to see all three of you well."
[Kora] "Victor," Adrian turns when the Wendigo approaches. Kora's dark eyes are already on him as he lands in the pool of light and lingers there so as not to startle. She greets him when he is close, her voice low and easy and confident. "You know Adrian. I don't think you've met Trent." She cuts a direct glance back at the kinsman with the pure blood that marks him as Black Fury to all their feral senses. This is a lingering sort of look, her eyes on his face before she turns back to Victor to finish the introduction, "He's mine. My mate, yeah?"
Then, back to Trent. "Baby, this is Victor, he's Wendigo, and runs with Karl and the rest."
Adrian asks what he missed; Kora gives him this sort of still, wry look. He missed everything, and nothing. There have been no deaths for weeks, and the battles that consume her life - these terrible spasms of violence - seize and then are finished. Until the next one. The ghost of the last battle is on her mouth, the promise of the next one under her skin. Trent has set down both his pack and his cooler, and - hungry, thirsty - Kora goes foraging in the latter to find something to satisfy one or the other. Or both. She straightens, a dark bottle dripping wet from the melting ice inside in her right hand, look back to Adrian.
"It's been an eventful summer, but no one's died since - " she remembers them. She remembers them all. "Moving Mountain. The Sentinels are gone, though. Joey and the rest. Blood Summons disappeared. I've not seen Lila in weeks." The world shifts. Garou come and go in the small urban Caern. She says nothing about the break-up of her own pack. Adrian knows something of that. Joe's gone. That was all she said, when the anger had filtered away.
[Trent Brumby] "Nice to meet you Victor," this is accompanied by an offering of a hand to shake. His eyes are a pale gray, his skin a little darker to hint at mixed Caucasian, more obvious in the summer where it darkens even further. After shaking the Wendigo's hand, Trent steps back and moves over to the bag.
He waits until Kora's finished telling Adrian what's been happening before he speaks up, glancing to Kora with raised brows. "Are we going to spread out a blanket to sit? Easier to lounge with this sort of food. It's no hot dogs." There's a slight smirk there with that last little jab.
[Victor Oseragigte] He smiles to Adrian, to Kora, then to the new face. If he makes much of her evident possessiveness it doesn't show, just nodding at her claim, acknowledging it properly. A hand is offered to Trent, a simple, friendly gesture, almost at the same time apparently. The resulting shake is firm but not testing.
Adrian asked what's happened. Kora's report tells him things he does not know, so he adds to it. "Moonrunners have another. Plenty of trouble to watch for. Angels and octopi." He shook his head faintly. Trent, unfamiliar with him, might not be used to his terse style of speech, brief, starting and stopping, nothing more than necesary typically. His tone is not unfriendly, it's simply that he isn't given to speaking heavily, nor too good at it, either.
[Adrian] Absently, Adrian takes a final drag from his cigarette and flicks the butt away, then reaches out a hand to take something, to help. "Not a bad idea. And there's nothing wrong with those daft American hot dogs if they're had once a month or less." This is amused, and assuming Trent allows it the two kin are laying out the picnic . . . as Adrian's mobile rings. When his hands are free again, he checks it and grimaces. "Technically, I have a few weeks off. Caller ID says otherwise, though - dinner and drinks soon?"
[Kora] "Since you went to all this trouble," Kora replies to Trent quietly, her eyes sparking only at his last little jab about the hot dogs. "then yeah. I'll give you a hand."
The Skald is a few seconds late, though. The two kinsman are already doing the work, spreading the blanket on the clipped grass bordering the park, close to the drop-off where the railing circles the retaining wall, a view of the lake spreading out over the Eastern horizon, dark and glittering with the city's reflected light, and then simply dark. While they lay out the picnic, Kora looks back to Victor. "Angels and octopi?" she queries, with this professional sort of interest.
Then, the blanket is open, and Adrian's making his excuses after checking his mobile phone. "Trent's working on something, and I'd like you to get involved. Maybe some of your colleagues from school, too. Give him a ring soon, yeah?" Though there's only the faintest lilt upward with the appended yeah. "It's good to see you, Adrian. Be safe."
That, by way of farewell before she folds herself down to sit cross-legged on the blanket, easing her toes out of her flipflops. "There's plenty of food, Victor. You're welcome to join us," she tells the Wendigo with a gesture to - in fact - join them.
[Trent Brumby] Trent lets Adrian help him set out the picnic blanket for them all to sit on, and to unpack various containers of prepared food. Not all of it was made by him, but picked up at places across the city. Places he trusts that has good food and hygiene, and preferably the closest to organic he can get.
When Adrian declares he has to go, he looks up and nods with a small smile. "Give us a call when you're free." He's flexible with things like that, and wouldn't mind catching up with the other Kinfolk again. "I'll tell you about the working bee I'm trying to organize for the river." Something for them to discuss.
Kora already said as such, and he shoots her an apologetic look as he almost spoke over her. Then with another glance back to Adrian, he tells the other, "I'll catch you later."
Trent's still standing as the Fenrir makes herself comfortable on the picnic, and when she invites the other Garou to come and sit and eat with them Trent waits to see if he takes the invitation. If he does, he waits for Victor to sit down before lowering himself down, leaving his feet off the blanket and reclining sideways on his left elbow.
[Victor Oseragigte] He turns as Adrian prepares to leave, nodding again to him. "Welcome back," he offers with a quiet smile, before he turns to debate intruding on Trent and Kora's picnic. They did have food... and the Charm's presence was making his stomach rumble again. Victor finally walks over to settle lightly at the offered point.
"Thanks. Yeah. Big octopus attacked the caern. BIG octopus. Also killed some angels Monday. Spirit at the caern has the details. Nasty stuff. Go for the wings. Pile on the guardians first." Sounds like advice, which is what it was.
[Adrian] ((Thanks for inviting me in!))
[Kora] Kora's flipflops sit neatly on the grass beside the blanket, and she sits close to both her mate and the cooler with the drinks. She already has an open beer - dark glass slick with moisture from the cooler - resting not on the blanket, but nestled into the grass beside her flipflops, but she digs around in the cooler finding bottles of water and beer, offering them, pale brows raised by way of question, to Victor and Trent.
This is the sort of spread on which you can graze all evening, and Kora reaches for bread, cheese, and olives. "I've been hungry for olives," she tells Trent, shooting him a look back over her shoulder, her eyes shadowed, the edge of her cheek and curve of her mouth illuminated by the lamps flanking the path, the city's orange glow dampened as it is by the humidity. "These are brilliant." Then, she casts a look back to Victor, listening quietly, seriously as he offers his terse account of his recent battles, accepting both giant octopi and angels as part of their world.
"Roman and I fought a huge bane made of - oil, poison and trash at the river's edge a week or so ago. It was a close thing, but some of the water elementals healed Roman, after, and cleansed me, too. Trent's organizing a river clean up by way of," a glance back at the kinsman, the glint of her eyes, the fond, possessive curve of her mouth, " - chiminage, maybe. Thanks and - well cleansing. I've asked the other Fenrir kin to get involved, but you should pass on the word if you know anyone who'd be interested."
[Trent Brumby] "Glad to be of service," he says lowly to Kora, meeting her over the shoulder look with a smile in the corners of his mouth. He watches her reach for food to eat, glad that he's picked foods that she seems to enjoy. They often had spreads like this in his other Tribe, some sort of cultural thing that, no doubt, went back to their Greek heritage.
He takes a water with a quiet thanks and breaks off some flat bread for the dips, he prefers the spiced one, red with chilli and yoghurt as a base. It burns his mouth but after the sweetness of it has faded. While they talk, he looks between the two of them, nodding as his chewed food is moved from his cheek and swallowed.
Focused on Victor, he speaks quietly. "I really have no idea what I'm doing, but I can't sit around and do nothing. Your Tribe, they know a lot about honouring the spirits, especially those of nature?" It's clear where this could be going. Trent wants advice and he's not ashamed to ask outright.
[Victor Oseragigte] He looks to Trent at Kora's description of his environmental activities. Though he glances to the food, he doesn't yet reach for anything, instead nodding to Trent.
"Say we do. Sounds like you have a good start. Just need to drum up more people. Maybe some publicity. Walkers are good for that. Theurges to talk to the spirits of the river, little covert help. Work both sides."
[Sean Douglas-Pinkerton] (is this an open scene, and may I ask where everyone is?)
[Kora] (it is indeed an open scene! everyone is sitting on a blanket near the lake, eating. I will have to go to bed shortly, but you folks can continue without me when I go!)
[Trent Brumby] "I've been contacted by two others, not much more than that. I'm hoping for the end of the month, and even if there's not enough people, I'll go down with who's willing." Another piece of bread is swiped through the open container of dip, his eyes darting back up from it to the Wendigo. "I don't know any Theurge's."
"And what sort of chiminage or offerings do you give a River? Aside from offering to clean it up and saying prayers?" It's an honest question that is asked of both Garou present, glancing between them as he popped food into his mouth again. The Kinfolk is relaxed and comfortable, lounging with them.
[Kora] Kora's smile spreads in response to Trent's. It's a quiet exchange, mostly in passing, mostly cast in shadow. She looks at him, direct and sure in that moment, but her attention does not linger. When Victor speaks, she flashes a look back to him, "I'm relying on our kin for publicity. Which reminds me," she continues, flashing a look back to Trent. "I spoke to Izzy. Asked her to get the PD or the police union on something involved. She should give you a call soon, yeah?" Let me know if she doesn't goes unspoekn, underneath.
Then, to Victor, "I don't know of any Glass Walkers in the city other than the Guardians and Sinclair." When Trent asks the next question - chiminage for a River, she returns, this quiet spark in her eyes, "Skinny-dipping."
She is only half-kidding. "I could do some research on it, though. The history of the river, right? Find some way of encapsulating that into a story we tell at the moots." To Victor, then, " - any other ideas?"
[Trent Brumby] "Skinny dipping?" Trent is laughing quietly. "You want me arrested." Shaking his head he opened up his bottle of water and took a good drink from it, amusing himself with the thoughts of a mass crowd leaping into the Chicago River, naked. It's certainly something the Black Fury's would do. Sky clad. It's almost tempting.
[Victor Oseragigte] He listens intently to them both, and when Kora turns back to him he can smile and nod certainly.
"Two of my packmates are Theurges. Gnawer and Walker. They should be able to help. But chiminage is easy. It's a river. Rivers like to be clean. They like to flow freely. Clean it. Get rid of the clogs. And the river will happily help you. River's history is a good place to look. Probably its path's been changed. Might not be able to completely make it happy... give it its old course. But should be able to offer it things it wants."
Though not a Theurge, Victor's decently versed in the spirit ways. After all, ALL Garou must deal with spirits on some level, and the Philodox have their own gifts and rites that call upon them.
[Trent Brumby] "Could you pass on the word then?" Trent asks Victor a little more humbled. "I'd like to get in contact with them, if that's alright, talk and see what they suggest and what they can offer."
"It'd be nice to make this more then a one off thing. If not just for the river but for other places around the city. As much as I enjoy the bonfires at seasonal changes, there should be plenty of reasons for Kin to get together." And for Garou as well, but he doesn't add that, not in front of two garou. That would be out of line for him.
[Kora] "No," she throws back, easily, laughing underneath her breath, the hint of it lingering in her lean body even when it doesn't imprint itself upon her voice, shaping the pattern of her breathing even when she does not laugh out loud. And she says something to him, just mouthing the words, then glances back between Trent and Victor, listening quietly, eating olives and hummus and cheese and flatbread, exclaiming over the tabouleh with a pleasure that Trent might have assumed she reserved only for greasy pizzas. Returning to the olives, savouring the salty richness.
(I am enjoying the scene, but have already outstayed my bedtime! Please assume Kora hangs around and listens i that is convenient, or wanders off in search of: 1. the ladies' room; 2. something to kill! if she needs to wander off.)
[Kora] Mouthed at Trent, with a flashing-quick grin. I just want you naked. - immediately after the bit about being arrested.
to Trent Brumby
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