[Imogen] It's humid out and overly warm. Still, she sits outside, alone at a table meant for more, a half finished meal of various chinese dishes cooling while she ignores it for her book. A small ceramic tea cup sits in front of her, a kettle as well - this is ignored for the cigarette held between her fingers.
It's not really a patio, more like a section of sidewalk purloined for it. Passers-by walk a mere foot or so away. Some, likely men, may cast the doctor a glance or two - her pale skin, dark eyes and red hair draw the eye. She ignores them all, turning another page in her book and exhaling smoke slowly emptying her lungs of poison.
[Night's Reprieve] It's a hot evening, some might consider it the worst kind. It's humid of course, but from where NR has come from, the humidity doesn't really pose much of a threat. In fact he is rather enjoying the weather in Chicago so far and he has a smile on his lips when he rounds the corner onto the street in which Imogen is reading her book. He wears a white wife beater in the heat and black jeans, simple leather boots. The tip of a gruesome looking scar can be seen jutting up out of the garment from his left pectoral muscle.
When he spots some familiar red hair he pauses in his step, glances at her for a moment before deciding to engage her in conversation. This time he doesn't ask her if she minds if he takes a seat. Perhaps they have moved past things like that in the Godi's eyes, or perhaps he is just forgetful of his manners tonight. Either way he slips into a chair opposite her and gives her a nod of his head. She is incredibly aware for a kin, he doesn't think for a moment that he could be surprising her.
"Evenin' Miss Slaughter. " That familiar drawl of Cajun tones. "Whatcha be readin?"
[Imogen] She has looked up, even before he takes a seat, and there is a slight arch of her eyebrow as he does, silent commentary. Apparently the kinwoman does not agree with his assessment. Or, perhaps, she judges him on his lack of manners.
Not much can be gleaned from a lifted eyebrow, after all.
She set down her book, face down as he took his seat, and she casts a glance toward it at his question. "King Lear," she says.
She is dressed in a linen suit, a black camisole beneath the beige. Her hair is up, clipped and pinned in place, a few strands straying to brush her cheek, the collar of her blazer. The hair is as unruly as it is vibrant. Chaos barely restrained by all her efforts.
Then she adds, in case the clarification was needed: "Shakespeare."
[ENN ARRR] Clarification was indeed needed, or so it seems. Things like literature are sometimes outside his grasp of knowledge. He's heard of shakespeare, or at least doesn't seem confused by the mention of the strange word. He even seems to come to realisation like the three other wise disconnected words suddenly have connection and meaning.
"Ah, I see."
He saw the raised eyebrow of course, but it doesn't hold any meaning. At least not to a Godi, maybe to his Forseti cousin.
"Any good? Whats it about?"
[Imogen] Is it any good? "Quite a few English professors and literary scholars seem to think so," answers her mouth twisting faintly.
He asks what it is about and she pauses for a moment, her fingers straying to the book, not to open it, but to touch the tips to the cover, as if the meaning might come through osmosis. A moment later, the hand leaves and she lifts her cigarette back to her lips. Inhale, then exhale.
"In a nutshell," she says, "S'about a King and two daughters who promised they loved him in very pretty words, in return for their shares of his kingdom, and the third daughter who said she had no words to describe her love and was disowned. The two flattering daughters are false and the third daughter is true."
She smirks wryly, lowering her cigarette to a glass ashtray and tapping it before setting it down. "It's a Shakespearean tragedy; everyone dies at the end."
[ENN ARRR] He places his hands against the edge of the table and leans back slightly when she begins to tell her story of... the story.. He purses his lips and contemplates the plot line for a moment.
"Everyone dies, ain't that the truth Imogen." He seems sombre in his words but when he speaks next it holds curiosity.
"But what's the moral? What's the message do you think? Flattery gets you everywhere? Stay true to your guns despite the consequences? If everyone dies then I guess neither the first two daughters or the third got anything out of their choices. Is that the message? It don't matter what you do in life it all ends the same?"
He muses with a wry smile.
"Maybe its just a story."
[Imogen] When he says that everyone dies, the doctor's eyebrow arches slightly. "Particularly in Shakespearean tragedies," she says, "as I hope you are not saying that because you think I have missed this critical fact in reality."
He asks for the moral and she regards him, lifting her cigarette to her lips. When she lowers it, her mouth is still twisted, far from a smile, something more edged and cutting.
"Surely you do not want to waste time on discussing the morals and meanings of human literature."
[ENN ARRR] His brows narrow and he regards her with almost confusion in his face.
"Why not Imogen? I don't think its wasted time. There's lesson's to be learnt everywhere Miss Slaughter, how can I do service to a species I know nothin' about?"
There's a pause and he regards the Kinfolk before asking
"Would you think time spent learning stories of my kind is wasted?" His voice is low and gruff, there's weight behind that question.
[Imogen] "Doctor Slaughter, if you please." She corrects him without rancour or ire. She might as well be asking him to pass the salt.
"I've not spent time learning your stories," she answers his question as she lifts her cigarette, her hand pausing before she quite fits the filter between her lips. "So surely I am not in a position to judge."
[ENN ARRR] "Doctor Slaughter, aye, my apologies." A slight smirk and wrinkling of his brow. And
"Maybe you should, you might find them interesting. I'm sure there's a King Lear out there somewhere from our kind."
A pause.
"Even if only for entertainment."
[Imogen] Imogen shakes her head slightly. "I know enough of you and yours as it is from the present. I haven't much interest in hearing your past."
Her pure breeding is a heated brand on her blood. The memory of the his history - though not his tribes - burned into her skin, a sharp contrast to her words. She resembles past Garou, for all that she refuses to acknowledge it.
"Besides," she smirks, "I have Shakespeare fer entertainment."
[Roman Turner] He'd grown accustomed to odd looks with his hat and all, so for the most part he seemed not to notice the occasional honk or hoot as he strolled down the street. Tonight the old serviceable Stetson was pushed back so he could catch a better look at Kora's face in the light from shops and street lamps they passed under.
"Got the john installed today and excepting for the color, it ain't half bad if I say so myself. Look on the bright side, brown won't show so much cra..er...stuff like a white one would."
[ENN ARRR] He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.
"Well, suit ye self Dr. Slaughter, I don't mind learnin' bout human tales." There doesn't seem to be disapproval in the way he says it.
"I might look into this King Lear though myself, or maybe some other Shakespeare. Sounds like a story I could sink my teeth into."
[Sparrow] Who knew what she was doing in this part of town. Probably looking for food.
More accurately, Sparrow was buying a shirt. She was on the streets, in one of those faux Chinese-cut shirts and her usual, ubiquitous skirt and boot combo. She bundles something up in a plastic bag and shoves it in a trash can. The shirt seems to be a nice enough fit, covers all she needs covered, then again, no one really wants to look her way. it's been a bad day.
Sparrow checks her bracelets, making sure they're all on. some are metal, some wood and beads and what-have-you.
What she's wearing isn't important, though. What is important, however, is that she's out and about tonight, and headed towards a group of people. Her stomach growls an unpleasant, angry sound.
[Imogen] "Make sure," she says, idly as she crushes out her cigarette, "that yeh buy a copy wi' colloquial explanations opposite the verses."
She picks up her tea pot and pours, fragrant green liquid filling the cope. "Most find Shakespeare's language rather inaccessible, particularly if it's their first time through."
[Roman Turner] He'd scrounged the toilet from a condemned apartment building and though the seat didn't match because it came from another location, the mix came out looking like some twisted ice-cream sunday in his young mind. Well worn boots better suited for a ranch, along with stiffly pressed dark blue Wrangler jeans, combined with the hat and button up western cut shirt, all set him apart from the rest of the city. And there was Sparrow up ahead in that danged skirt she insisted on wearing though the wind blew so hard here he was sure she was going to end up with it up over her head showing her business to all of Chicago. His reaction on spotting Sparrow was to curl his tongue between his teeth and let out a high piecing whistle followed by a shout.
"CUZ!"
[Rainer] He comes out of nowhere...as much as a 6'2 blonde can anyway. One minute NR is chatting to a lovely red haired kinswoman. Rainer walks out onto the sidewalk and sees them. He can't pass for human if you know what you're looking for. But he doesn't scare anyone who doesn't. The next minutes he's slapping a hand on the Godi's thick shoulder. He - rather loudly - asks "What did I tell you!" Keeps his hand on NR's shoulder. Looks at Imogen. Looks back to NR. Grins that grin that NR has probably wanted to cuff off his face a few times. "Oh I'm sorry am I interrupting?"
[ENN ARRR] His jaw clenches and he none too politely gives his shoulder a heavy shrug to remove the paw from his cousin. His eyes flick upwards to the man and he stares at him a moment, narrowing his eyes before he smiles.
"Dr. Slaughter, this is my cousin Rainer. Rainer, Dr. Slaughter."
It's then he spots Sparrow, then hears a rather high pitched whistle. His ears twitch inhumanely and his chin shifts to the sound.
"Our kind. New faces to me." This said more to Rainer.
[Imogen] Imogen regards Rainer mildly as he smacks Night's Reprieve's shoulder, as he grins a shit-eating grin and asks if he's disturbing anything.
"Not at all," she says, her voice deliberately mild, and unrevealing beyond that.
The piercing whistle draws Imogen's attention as well, and she catches sight of Roman, then Sparrow beyond him. Though the words were not spoken to her, she answers them anyway.
"They are your Jarl's packmates," she says.
[Sparrow] "Ro-maaaaaaaaan!" she yells back. She waves. Back and forth, her bracelets jingle. There is a distinct disconnect, because looking at her, something about that girl with all that rage can't possibly be right, but we digress. "Quit makinsomuchracketohmygaaaaawd!"
She grins afterward. Family. Ohhh joy.
[Rainer] You can't blame his behaviour on alcohol. It's not on his breath. His eyes are clear. He doesn't stumble when NR shakes him off. Rainer pulls out a pack of gum. Starts chewing a piece as they're introduced. He doesn't share the Godi's accent. His own is Louisianan but not Cajun. "Pleasure, Dr. Slaughter, ma'am."
Then there's a ruckus. Rainer looks over at them. Looks back to NR. Flicks his eyebrows. "Well, I reckon we ought to go make ourselves acquainted, don't you?"
[Roman Turner] His youthful face cracked in a wide smile with the ruckas Sparrow made. Sometimes she cracked him up.
"Lord howdy, look at the way she's wavin them skinny arms around like she's trying to land a dang plane."
He chuckled shaking his head as they closed distance and he finally spotted that pretty red hair of Imogen's and the two dudes she was with and his heart tightened. His Angel was out with another fella. Not just one, but two.
[Kora] "That's a charming thought," Kora muttered, the edge of a familiar smile curving across her generous mouth. She's a head taller than the Gaian, but the Stetson makes up some of the difference. Maybe the cowboy boots do, too. They walk in step, that sort of easy grace of pack animals. Her Doc Marten's, his cowboy boots. She is wearing an old black t-shirt announcing her love of late 80s indie music PIXIES it says, white letters on black cotton over worn jeans, multicolored laces threaded around the shafts of the boots at her calves.
Then Roman spots Sparrow, and whistles. Kora glances up, briefly visible in profile, from where her attention is snagged on something in a picture window. Some old junk shop, selling antiques and "antiques" and paperback books, seventy-five cents each or ten for five dollars, half of them in Mandarin.
Kora appears just after Sparrow waves from across the street, standing on the curb at Roman's side. Her hands are still in her pockets, sunk there to the first knuckle, this easy body language, lean and sure. She lifts her chin by way of greeting to Sparrow, turning her head in an animal cant visible from across the street, if only because of the weight of her hair, pulled back from her features and secured by the barrel of a broken mechanical pencil.
Then her glance shifts, tracing the line of Roman's sight as he finds Imogen, two strangers. Shall we?
The invitation has a sort of lilt in the back of her mind.
To be fair, she doesn't really wait for an answer, just nudges Roman with her hip, tips her head to Sparrow, and starts walking toward the patio.
Hope Imogen ordered the large pot of tea.
[Kora] (sorry! lost my first post, then had a bunch of narration to do. my internet is extra wonky tonight! fair warning. :) )
[ENN ARRR] "I reckon they be comin' to us Cousin."
His eyes glance to Imogen for a moment and mention of the Jarl's pack. Interesting. Very interesting.
"Best behave Marred Valor."
And then he waits.
[Roman Turner] He heard the little Shall we? almost as if he had thought the words. Having someone else talking in his head was still new to him and sometimes he wondered if Kora could read any of his thoughts, though he figured since she didn't have white hair springing out of her head yet, she likely couldn't read what she really shouldn't and remain sane. So, along with his Alpha, he started in the direction of his double dating Angel with a crushed heart tightening his chest.
[Imogen] (uhm... i JUST NOW realized it is my turn, so if someone else has a post ready, go ahead!)
[Imogen] Imogen regards the approaching Garou, her expression contained, carefully maintained. Roman looks slightly hang-dog. Imogen watches all three, then turns back to her table. There are a few plates in front of her, all cooling. The waiter has not bothered to brave the outdoors to retrieve them since the arrival of Night's Reprieve.
The Garou approach and Imogen -
Imogen lights a cigarette.
[Rainer] "Who, me?" Like the thought of not behaving never crossed his mind. He pretends to try to look innocent. It's different from when he actually tries to look innocent. "Bro I always behave."
[ENN ARRR] He throws his wayward cousin a sceptical look and grimaces.
"This should be lovely."
[Imogen] (Lethe is once more having connection problems)
[Kora] Roman's heart is being slowly crushed in his chest, squeezed into some essential nugget of blood and muscle. Kora is this even counterpoint to the young cowboy, worrying about his Alpha reading his thoughts, feeling the stirring of jealousy under his skin. Her hands remain in her pockets, but after that tip of her head toward Sparrow, her dark eyes remain on the trio. On Imogen, first.
Kora is keen-eyed and alert; from a distance, she studies Imogen's body language. As the pair - Sparrow behind them, doubtless, crossing the street, in her skirts and bangles - approach the patio, her dark gaze shifts from Imogen to the pair of Garou with her.
"Evening, Doc." her voice is low. "Sorry to intrude." She steps adroitly around one of the chairs scattered outside, skirts an empty table, Roman in her wake. There's no pure blood in her. Of the pair of strange Garou, her attention slides to Rainer, first. The breeding is the draw. Then it shifts to Night's Reprieve, as her sense of their body language wins over breeding. The look he shot the other, and the grimace.
"Who are your friends?" Kora's attention is sure, direct and steady on Night's Reprieve. It's clear that she expects the Garou, not the kinswoman, to answer that particular question.
[Imogen] Kora apologizes for intruding and Imogen's flicker of an expression is something like amusement, wry and perhaps a little resigned.
She says nothing, as Kora asks the kinwoman a question, but clearly expecting the Garou to answer.
She takes another drag of her cigarette and moves her attention to passers-by.
[Roman Turner] Indeed he tagged along with his Alpha and when she drew close to the strangers, he took up a tactical position of slightly behind and to the left of Kora. He reached up and with a slight touch to the brim of his hat said.
"Well howdy there Miss Doctor Slaughter. Fine evening, ain't it just?"
Putting on his best show face. The two Garou received a faint nod of his head. His breeding was faint, but it was there and though he stood just under five and a half feet, the boots and hat gave him a few added inches. In his mid-teens, with low rage, he normally didn't cause much of a stir unless it was to laugh at his accent or clothing.
[ENN ARRR] His eyes travel from Imogen to the new comers, looking over all of them as he leans back in his chair before finally resting upon Kora. He sucks in his cheeks and pushes his lips out a moment in thought.
"Night's Reprieve, cliath Godi of Fenris. This " he indicates with a shrug of his head "Is Rainer, Marred Valor. Cliath Forseti, my cousin and my pack mate." His accent is strong, Cajun. They ain't from around here.
Usually he would let the taller my youthful looking Forseti damn well introduce himself. He seems like he doesn't want to give the guy a chance to speak though if it can be avoided.
Imogen had said the Jarl's packmates were approaching. She said nothing of the Jarl herself.
[Roman Turner] Eyes the color of faded denim moved from the reclining speaking Night's Reprieve to Marred Valor. Chestnut hair peeked out beneath the hat he wore, showing at the back of his neck and ears. Though he wanted to look at Kora, he didn't and he managed to keep his mental voice under control too. Miracles do happen sometimes.
[Fire-Claws] The city was much larger than one would begin to expect. Much to hunt as it seemed that the wyrm was everywhere. And the more to hunt the better. But he was still new here, there were other packs that called this place home, even if the markings were hard to find in this damned body.
But he did have a mission to uphold, first and foremost was coming across what he had learned was his Jarl. Some bad ass woman named Kora, not much to go on, but it would have to do. The bold little kin monkey didn't go into detail about her, but the name and the idea of what this city had to offer would be enough.
Hunting down this one down would take a great deal of work. But this part of the city, so filled with people it almost made him sick. The way they crowded the streets, most of them looking for some tainted food or some sadistic pleasure to be filled. Dark brown eyes narrow as he moves through the street, watching as people part to make way for him.
[Kora] Night's Reprieve would have a few inches of height on her if he were standing up. He's sitting down, though, and she's simply - taller. Her longer fingers are curled over the back of one of the wrought iron chairs scattered around the open patio. The nails are blunt. They were painted black sometime in the last three weeks, but most of that polish has flaked away.
"Kora, Eyjólfsdóttir to my kin, just Kora here. she who offers sorrow to the Nation, fostered at the Sept of Wind and Rain in Hjaltland, cliath, Skald, Jarl of the Fenrir of Maelstrom and alpha a pack under Hermóðr. My packmates," she tips her head toward Roman. " - can introduce themselves."
There's no accent to her voice; it is simply low - a rich alto with a certain confident undertone. She has narrow shoulders and a lean physique that tends toward the boyish, except for the distinct, subtle curve of her hips.
"I'm glad to see more Fenrir. Are you passing through? Or here to stay?"
[Rainer] They're the same height. Their hair and eyes look similar. But Rainer has breeding his cousin doesn't. Doesn't make him a better warrior or a better Fenrir. Just makes him easier to spot. He looks from Kora to Roman. Looks back. His nostrils flare when he smells Imogen's cigarette. He keeps chewing his gum...and maybe to NR's surprise doesn't interrupt.
[Roman Turner] "Howdy, I'm Roman Turner, given the name of Fate by the Nation. New Moon, Cliath, Coggie."
Let them figure out how on earth two Coggies ended up in a pack with a Fenrir Alpha following a Fenrir Totem. He still couldn't explain how they just fit.
[ENN ARRR] Cliath, Skald, Jarl.
The Godi narrows his brows and is jaw twitches slightly. His cousin's silence is noted, gold stars are added to his chart on the pack wall.
"Honor to meet you Jarl, we have decided to stay. There is much to be done in the city, many battles to be fought." He watches her a moment longer before his eyes flick to Roman and he nods his head.
Packed with a Coggie, it gets stranger.
"Are there many more of our Tribe in the city sister?"
[Imogen] Imogen turns her head when she exhales, though it does not keep the Garou from the smell of the poison which is one of her many vices.
The Garou's conversation washes around her. She smokes her cigarette - and beyond acknowledgement of Roman's brave-faced greeting, does not participate.
[Roman Turner] "This here is my Cousin, Sparrow Turner. Known to the Nation as Resistance. She's same rank, though a Full Moon."
Deciding to introduce his silent cousin.
[Fire-Claws] He does not seem much of an intimidating individual from a distance. Nothing about him screams hood or thug. His light blue short, worn and ripped around the collar makes him a bit scruffy but some homeless bum people would avoid. There was something else, the way he stood. Something more, predatory about it.
But that seems that once again he was in luck, another night and there seemed to be a gathering not too far off. Several individuals talking amongst themselves around a large patio, some standing out like beacons. The purity of the gathered ebbed from one to the next, a dangerous gathering that must surely make the wyrm flee from this area.
A gathering he would need to be apart of, to introduce himself and learn of the others in this city. His path now decidedly changed for the large group.
[Victor Oseragighte] Victor swings through Chinatown every so often. He likes to travel. Likes to roam. It's in his blood, really, a certain wanderlust he can't quite name. The curious chill in the air is bracing to him, enjoyable, and against the wind he wears nothing but a black tank-top, brown dungarees, and his hard-toed boots, letting the wind dance across his dark skin gladly as he walks. They'll spot him before he does them probably, as he comes around the corner and happens to look the opposite direction first, down the street.
[Kora] Night's Reprieve announces that there is much to be done, many battles to be fought, and Kora exhales this brief, sharp breath, her nostrils flaring. Her features are dominated by a firm jaw, dark eyes and an expressive mouth that seems to curve into a faint smile even at its most neutral position.
Her mouth is still now, though, her dark eyes intent on the Godi, missing none of his minute expressions. "You've figured that out, have you?" she says, after, this brief, sharp look lilting between the pair of packmates. " - in so short a time, too." There's a sort of wry humor that lines in the undertone of her words.
"You've made your sacrifice to Maelstrom, then?"
The humor sifts away, like ash on the wind. Then the Godi asks her if there are many of the tribe in the city. Her attention draws back to him. There is a moment when it swings away, up the street, down. "There are more in the graves than among the living."
[Imogen] Imogen's brow darkens, then a moment later, smooths. She takes another drag from her cigarette.
[Roman Turner] He picked Victor out on the crowded night street pretty easily. They'd flown a kite together and been in a couple of battles together, though the last adventure to the Battle Grounds with Victor's pack had been the most confusing thing ever and he'd not seen the other Garou since. From Victor his curious gaze landed on Fire-Claws heading their way with a sense of purpose.
"Incoming" Was whispered across the Totem Link to Kora.
[ENN ARRR] He leans forward, placing his elbows on the table and raising his eyes to hers.
"Aye, figured it out with blood of my own, with my own life even on the first night in this town." His battle scar is obvious beneath his wife beater, the top of it peeking up out of the top. His eyes are serious, his tone deadly plain. This is nothing to find amusement over. The city is worse than many the Godi has travelled through.
After a moment he leans back, relaxing and he smiles.
"But, is it not the way of our tribe sister? Glory in death, glory in blood spilt." a pause. "Sacrifices have been made. Both for the totem and for the cause."
He gives a nod to his cousin.
[Victor Oseragighte] When his gaze comes around and settles on those gathered outside the restaurant, he has a moment to pause and decide if he will approach. In the end, he does so, crossing the street at his own measured pace, stoic and silent. Black eyes study the gathered.
[Fire-Claws] He begins to approach the group, slowly and cautiously. Within this form it is hard to know whose who. The human body language is so read. But with the degrees of purity within this group and the intensity of several of those about made this a prime choice to make his introductions known.
He does not speak so quickly, waiting until he can get the attention of those first before he even begins to speak. This may even be the territory of one of them, in fact it was quite likely. But there was no true way of knowing. His words, when spoken come out garbled and thick, marking him from the south.
"Eve'in."
[Imogen] Victor, Fire-claws approaches. The kinwoman regards them both for several seconds.
"You're going to run out of chairs," this as if this had not been her table originally - a place of solitude which one can gather by the book, the finished plates, the cigarette in the ashtray when she is the only smoker.
[Roman Turner] He turned so he was nearly back to back with Kora and facing the arriving Fire-Claws and Victor. Touching the brim of his hat with a nod to the two.
"Eve'in."
Was returned and an added.
"Howdy Vic."
[Kora] "These are the last days. There's work to be done, as you say, everywhere I think. Though if it's glory you're here for - glory in death, glory in blood spilled - you'll find it easily enough. If you're here for more than that - " that curve lingers at the edge of her expression. " - well, we'll know that in a few moons, I think.
"My pack and I claim territory north of the Caern, which has been held by the tribe since the Caern was raised. You're welcome there if you have need of me or mine. Or if you wish to learn more about the Caern and its history, and the tribe here.
There's a flicker of Kora's dark eyes from Night's Reprieve back to the street. There's an evenness to the way she returns the words to the Godi. This sort of straight line, touched with both reserve and a sort of living awareness.
Then Victor and Fire-Claws approach. Imogen remarks on the chair situation. Kora cuts her a sidelong glance. "Remind me later, Doc. I owe you two beers for this."
Kora is standing, her hands on the back of one of the chairs. Her body language shifts as she pulls out the chair, steps back, away from the table for another to drag over, this sort of natural, underlying hospitality.
"Victor," she says, to the Wendigo. "Join us, yeah?"
Then Fire-Claws, Kora steps away from the chair, her dark eyes touching on the new comer's plain face, is ordinary clothing. The sense of the animal about him.
"And who are you?"
[Kora] I MISS THE OLD GET OF FENRIS.
poor Kora. she's so cynical now. :(
to Peeker
[Victor Oseragighte] Roman gets a nod and a 'hey' back, another bob of his head to Kora. His eyes do move to stare a moment at the Theurge there, before he finds a good place to stand, not bothering to take a seat for himself. In truth, Victor preferred to be on his feet, and usually only sat to make others comfortable, or to not stand out. But with Kora standing herself, he could get away with it, he reasoned.
[Fire-Claws] He looks about the group, looking for some sign. Something to tell him who might be alpha or who may have claimed this area as their own. He was a visitor on these lands, it was only right he make himself known to the pack who claimed it as their own.
He is turn to the look at the table she drags over, watching without even moving a muscle to aid her. He just merely stands there until the woman speaks to him directly.
"Fire-Claws.Claith forseti of the Get of Fernis. Born many days run from 'ere. Sept of 'idden Smoke. Dis ya territory?"
His works directly right at Kora now as she seems the one to take charge among the group. A primal intensity mixed in with cluttered words.
[Roman Turner] He wasn't so sure about Victor, but he was starting to feel like he was shoulder deep in Fenrir. Famine to Feast it seemed. And Imogen likely felt like she was swimming in Garou.
[ENN ARRR] The Godi stands, gives a shrug of his shoulder and a nudge to the ribs of his cousin.
"We'll think on that Kora, Right now though, we're doin the rounds" he looks over at the gathering garou, nodding his head to fire claws and then to victor.
"If any of you would like to join us, you're more than welcome."
He'll wait a moment for anyone to reply, offer up their service and then he's off. A casual smile and tip of his head to the kinfolk.
"Dr Slaughter."
And then the two cousins are waltzing off into the night.
[ENN ARRR] [Thanks for scene all! goin to roll~]
[Victor Oseragighte] (( 'night! ))
[Roman Turner] ((Night!))
[Fire-Claws] (Night)
[Kora] If any of the staff inside the small restaurant had thought about coming to Imogen's rescue, or at least about refilling her pot with hot water for a second brewing of tea, they've given it up now. The group is one of the strangest to gather on the patio of the small Chinese restaurant, and one of the most dangerous. Those few neighborhood residents out on the street cut across the street half-way down, find some other route to their destination rather than walking anywhere close to the group of Garou.
"This," she says, with a gesture of her head, expressive, that encompasses their surroundings, Chinatown with all its many small businesses, the grocery on the corner, the herbalist down the block, the markets and greengrocers and other stores with all manner of items up and down the street, " - isn't my territory, no.
"I'm Kora. Eyjólfsdóttir, to the kin at the Sept of Wind and Rain in Hjaltland, where I fostered. she who offers sorrow to the Nation, cliath and Skald and daughter of Fenris, Jarl of the Sept. Have a seat."
There's a flicker of a look up as Night's Reprieve stands, to go patrol. "Be well, -yuf."
[Roman Turner] ((Ok, too dead to continue. Thanks for the play y'all.))
Roman watched the two Fenrir (well two of them) depart and after a moment he muttered something about finding service and headed in to the restaurant.
[Victor Oseragighte] The Wendigo watches the Theurge's departure before his eyes swing to the new arrival, a very new arrival apparently. Roman moves inside and he glances briefly to him, then back, not yet making his own introduction, deciding to wait until addressed directly and bide his time, observe.
[Rainer] He did a good job of not embarrassing his cousin. He stands quiet...and respectful...until he's nudged in the ribs. Then he perks up. Looks around at the others and gives a nod. "Nice meeting ya'll," he says. Gives a short salute. Walks off after his cousin.
(( Sorry so quiet all, been distracted all scene, LOL! Thanks for the play! ))
[Imogen] The kinwoman looks up as the Fenrir cousins depart, and merely watches them go without farewell. She lifts her cigarette back to her lips, inhaling deeply and turning her head to exhale it away from the Garou.
Introduction recur - the redhaired woman - pure-bred, pure-blooded does not see fit to partake in them. Her silence is a gap among them, though less noticeable for her half-blood.
[Fire-Claws] He watches as the gathering started to disperse. It was not uncommon, a new wolf in there midst was not so desirable to have. Besides there was much to hunt and many wyrm to kill. Afterwards he looked at Kora a moment before taking a seat when it was offered. So this was the Kora he had learned of. The bold kin monkey did not need to be so vague with such things.
"Am 'ere to make known, Jarl. Unknown to dis scab, no pack. I offa' my claws."
He looked towards the pure kin a moment, then back to Kora. City kin were strange to him.
[Kora] Things shift. Roman heads inside. Sparrow never really joins them, distracted by something in some window close by. The other pair of Fenrir stand and leave, make their farewells. Imogen smokes. And Fire-Claws makes himself known.
It is cooler now, out on the patio. Victor is standing. He doesn't like to sit. Kora sits a moment after Fire-Claws does, though, easing herself into the wrought-iron chair. Her shoulders are level and her spine is straight when she stands, but when she pulls out the chair and lowers herself into it, she she sits with her spine a curve against the right angle of the chair.
Something shifts in her at Fire-Claws so-basic offer of his claws, in this scab. "I'm glad to know you, then," she tells him, simply. " - and glad to have your claws on our side. This - " she tips her head at Victor," " - is Victor. My packmate Roman is inside the store. And this is Dr. Slaughter, kin. You're welcome here. And - forgive the presumption, but - " a faint pause, the furrowing of her brow. She lowers her quiet voice, her head canting sidelong in an animal gesture. " - are you wolf-born?"
[Kora] (sorry! wasn't refreshing!)
[Imogen] The fianna-blooded kinwoman turns her gaze toward Kora as she is introduced. Her attention moves to Fire-Claws - not much else.
A moment later, she crushes out her cigarette and gets to her feet. She is slighter than them all - clearer now that she stands as they all do. Slim-framed, slight-boned and even in heels, shorter than every one.
She walks into the restaurant - the book left on the table the only sign that she has any intention of returning.
[Victor Oseragighte] The Wendigo does take a seat, reluctantly, when everybody else finally does, so as not to appear to far apart. At Kora's introduction of him he just nods for now, letting her speak with the newcomer for now. It's easier truly for him, as he's interested as well but quite content to let her ask questions of the man. At the insight that he might be wolf-born, Victor's eyes narrow and curiosity flits through them.
[Imogen] (oh oops. Somehow totally missed the part about them all sitting. ahem.)
[Fire-Claws] He does not sit so graceful as she, unnatural pieces of iron molded by others does not make it any more comfortable or easy to sit in. He just seems to plop himself down, not even beginning to position like his Jarl had. It was just there to use to get off one's feet.
He cants his head to the side as the kin is regarded and stands. His attention quickly moves onto Victor, nodding in return to the other. He was still getting used to this way of introduction and making oneself known.
He tries his hardest to understand what Kora is saying, a couple of the words are lost in the gibber-jabber. But the last part he understands quite well. Nodding in return.
"Ya. Lone wolf now."
[Kora] "I was a lone wolf when I came to the Sept, Fire-Claws-yuf," Kora says. Her expressions are natural and easy, and human. The curve of a generous mouth, the gleam of light - animal - across her dark blue eyes. Her hair, thick and fine and fragrant with her scent, pulled up and twisted at the nape of her neck. "The first person I sought was the Jarl. His name was Truth-in-Frenzy, and he was an Adren. He offered me hospitality without question. I shared his home - such as it was in the city - until we hunted out a totem together.
"I make you the same offer. My pack claims territory just north of the Caern. It is territory that has been held by another pack, until the last of them fell and their Alpha left, since the Caern was founded. If you cross over, you will see the markings, the trophy poles, the warnings to those who would violate the territory easily. The neighborhood is called Cabrini, though I expect that means little to you. It follows the river, back from the lake into the heart of the city.
"There is little wild about it, but that is what we claim, and that is where we stay, in the remnants of an old church in the center of the territory.
"You're welcome, there. Until you find a place with another, or with my pack." The offer she makes him is unconditional, direct and clear. She holds his attention the whole time, though the particulars of her expressions are lost in both translation and the deep shadows of the street.
"I want to know, though - what brings you to the city? And do you intend to stay?"
[Victor Oseragighte] Direct. That was his initial assessment of Kora. She cut to the meat of the matter, whatever the matter happened to be. And that could be refreshing. It made it easier for him, made it so he had to say even less than usual, which suited him fine. He'd rather listen and act than talk.
[Imogen] Not much later, she returns, her bill paid. The conversation here is stilted. Victor says nothing, Imogen says nothing. Kora speaks well and clearly. Fire-Claws speaks a language garbled by his feral roots.
Still, she re-takes her seat, pulling the chair back and drawing it beneath her as she lowers herself to it, before picking up her tea cup and sipping the tepid liquid.
It is stubbornness perhaps - that she does not leave until she is well and finished.
[Fire-Claws] He could smell that scent, he has smelt it before. It was off the bold kin woman, the one that told him she did not know much about their Jarl. He was not pleased now, it began to right over his face.
But he did try and listen, learned from the leader of this Sept. The story of her beginning in this Sept, with an Adren who was so willing to offer his hunting grounds to another. Much of her story goes by the wayside, expect the mention of the Caern and where to find the pack lands.
"Wha' spirit da duj falla. If I may ax'?"
He was hungry indeed, there was little hunting to be found in this city and what he did find in this scab he offered up to the spirit of Maelstrom. It was all he had to offer, the first kill. Even if it had left him weak after such a long run.
"I 'unt wyrm. Killed ma' pack, ma alpha. I 'unt many nights. Takes me to home of cold winds. I kill many on 'unt. I 'ad no land to return to. Learn of this Sept and need claws, much wyrm to kill."
[Kora] "We follow Hermóðr the Brave." Kora tells him. Her chin rises briefly by way of greeting as Imogen returns, her bill paid, to sit down despite the strangeness of the setting, the awkwardness of the encounter, and the company. "Odin's son in the stories from the Eddas, a spirit of respect and of war, of Fenris' brood. Both of my packmates are Children of Gaia, but both have proven themselves to Hermóðr and his children, by tooth and claw."
"It's rare to find a Fenrir wolf-born in the City, -yuf. If you want to remain here, to pledge your troth to the Maelstrom, to stay and fight, you will have to adapt yourself to the city's ways, or the city will crush you. I hope you have the strength necessary to watch and listen and learn, Fire-Claws-yuf.
"And that we can count on your claws for moons to come." There's a lingering pause, Kora's dark eyes on Fire-Claws features, his expression troubled, and sharpened by his hunger.
"You look hungry. We'll find you something to eat."
[Victor Oseragighte] Wolf-born indeed. He wore the human shape better than some, though. Victor hadn't known that both of Kora's packmates were Children, only Roman. He'd have to ask her more about them, clearly. The mention of food makes his own stomach rumble a little; though divorced now from the Charm, he still carried some residual effects for the moment, largely their hunger. He knew this would fade with time and separation, though.
[Imogen] She empties her tea and gets to her feet once more.
"Enjoy th'rest of yer night," she says, to no one in particular before flicking her gaze to Kora. "Three beers," she says in an apparent nonsequitor, her mouth twisted. She picks up her closed book and takes her purse from the back of her chair before she starts away.
[Fire-Claws] He listens keenly about the spirit that they follow. A strong spirit one cannot argue. It asks much of those that follow it, but those that do follow become very able. He had heard some tales of another pack that claimed great stamina and prowess in battle. But two children of Gaia follow such of Great Fenris' brood, they must not be they type of children that he knows of.
"Rough is da scab. Confusin. But much to 'unt. Many wyrm to kill. I will stay and 'unt well."
He watches her as it seems that she knows what he is feeling.
"Yes. This form is... weak. Must feed often. I will hunt soon."
[Kora] Imogen says three beers and Kora flashes her a lifting half-smile, rather more expressive than the twist of the kinswoman's mouth. "You got it doc," Kora says, low-voiced.
"Fire-Claws-yuf," Kora's attention turns back to the wolf-born. In the end, you'll want to save your scab-hunts for the Wyrm. Prey in the city is like as not to be poisoned, tainted, wrong somehow. One of your first lessons in adapting to the city will be buying food. Or at least learning to eat foods that humans have butchered, rather than prey you yourself have driven to ground.
"For now, though - I have to go, too. I've been too long from my territory." She flashes a passing look to Victor, then back to Fire-Claws. "You know where to find me. You're both welcome."
[Kora] (hah, like mei, I am turning into a PUMPKIN. (grins) you guys should keep playing if you like? and let me know if your guys are going to turn up at the church, so I can pass it on to mindy and blu. :) )
to Fire-Claws, Imogen, Victor Oseragighte
[Fire-Claws] (Have a good night both of you)
[Imogen] (yes. pumpkin. OH GOD. zzzz.
Night guys! thank you for the play! *grin*)
[Kora] (grins) thanks guys. Kora will buy you guys some sushi before she goes if that would set up interesting interactions. otherwise: I R SO DEAD. thanks for patience with my internet issues. :)
It's not really a patio, more like a section of sidewalk purloined for it. Passers-by walk a mere foot or so away. Some, likely men, may cast the doctor a glance or two - her pale skin, dark eyes and red hair draw the eye. She ignores them all, turning another page in her book and exhaling smoke slowly emptying her lungs of poison.
[Night's Reprieve] It's a hot evening, some might consider it the worst kind. It's humid of course, but from where NR has come from, the humidity doesn't really pose much of a threat. In fact he is rather enjoying the weather in Chicago so far and he has a smile on his lips when he rounds the corner onto the street in which Imogen is reading her book. He wears a white wife beater in the heat and black jeans, simple leather boots. The tip of a gruesome looking scar can be seen jutting up out of the garment from his left pectoral muscle.
When he spots some familiar red hair he pauses in his step, glances at her for a moment before deciding to engage her in conversation. This time he doesn't ask her if she minds if he takes a seat. Perhaps they have moved past things like that in the Godi's eyes, or perhaps he is just forgetful of his manners tonight. Either way he slips into a chair opposite her and gives her a nod of his head. She is incredibly aware for a kin, he doesn't think for a moment that he could be surprising her.
"Evenin' Miss Slaughter. " That familiar drawl of Cajun tones. "Whatcha be readin?"
[Imogen] She has looked up, even before he takes a seat, and there is a slight arch of her eyebrow as he does, silent commentary. Apparently the kinwoman does not agree with his assessment. Or, perhaps, she judges him on his lack of manners.
Not much can be gleaned from a lifted eyebrow, after all.
She set down her book, face down as he took his seat, and she casts a glance toward it at his question. "King Lear," she says.
She is dressed in a linen suit, a black camisole beneath the beige. Her hair is up, clipped and pinned in place, a few strands straying to brush her cheek, the collar of her blazer. The hair is as unruly as it is vibrant. Chaos barely restrained by all her efforts.
Then she adds, in case the clarification was needed: "Shakespeare."
[ENN ARRR] Clarification was indeed needed, or so it seems. Things like literature are sometimes outside his grasp of knowledge. He's heard of shakespeare, or at least doesn't seem confused by the mention of the strange word. He even seems to come to realisation like the three other wise disconnected words suddenly have connection and meaning.
"Ah, I see."
He saw the raised eyebrow of course, but it doesn't hold any meaning. At least not to a Godi, maybe to his Forseti cousin.
"Any good? Whats it about?"
[Imogen] Is it any good? "Quite a few English professors and literary scholars seem to think so," answers her mouth twisting faintly.
He asks what it is about and she pauses for a moment, her fingers straying to the book, not to open it, but to touch the tips to the cover, as if the meaning might come through osmosis. A moment later, the hand leaves and she lifts her cigarette back to her lips. Inhale, then exhale.
"In a nutshell," she says, "S'about a King and two daughters who promised they loved him in very pretty words, in return for their shares of his kingdom, and the third daughter who said she had no words to describe her love and was disowned. The two flattering daughters are false and the third daughter is true."
She smirks wryly, lowering her cigarette to a glass ashtray and tapping it before setting it down. "It's a Shakespearean tragedy; everyone dies at the end."
[ENN ARRR] He places his hands against the edge of the table and leans back slightly when she begins to tell her story of... the story.. He purses his lips and contemplates the plot line for a moment.
"Everyone dies, ain't that the truth Imogen." He seems sombre in his words but when he speaks next it holds curiosity.
"But what's the moral? What's the message do you think? Flattery gets you everywhere? Stay true to your guns despite the consequences? If everyone dies then I guess neither the first two daughters or the third got anything out of their choices. Is that the message? It don't matter what you do in life it all ends the same?"
He muses with a wry smile.
"Maybe its just a story."
[Imogen] When he says that everyone dies, the doctor's eyebrow arches slightly. "Particularly in Shakespearean tragedies," she says, "as I hope you are not saying that because you think I have missed this critical fact in reality."
He asks for the moral and she regards him, lifting her cigarette to her lips. When she lowers it, her mouth is still twisted, far from a smile, something more edged and cutting.
"Surely you do not want to waste time on discussing the morals and meanings of human literature."
[ENN ARRR] His brows narrow and he regards her with almost confusion in his face.
"Why not Imogen? I don't think its wasted time. There's lesson's to be learnt everywhere Miss Slaughter, how can I do service to a species I know nothin' about?"
There's a pause and he regards the Kinfolk before asking
"Would you think time spent learning stories of my kind is wasted?" His voice is low and gruff, there's weight behind that question.
[Imogen] "Doctor Slaughter, if you please." She corrects him without rancour or ire. She might as well be asking him to pass the salt.
"I've not spent time learning your stories," she answers his question as she lifts her cigarette, her hand pausing before she quite fits the filter between her lips. "So surely I am not in a position to judge."
[ENN ARRR] "Doctor Slaughter, aye, my apologies." A slight smirk and wrinkling of his brow. And
"Maybe you should, you might find them interesting. I'm sure there's a King Lear out there somewhere from our kind."
A pause.
"Even if only for entertainment."
[Imogen] Imogen shakes her head slightly. "I know enough of you and yours as it is from the present. I haven't much interest in hearing your past."
Her pure breeding is a heated brand on her blood. The memory of the his history - though not his tribes - burned into her skin, a sharp contrast to her words. She resembles past Garou, for all that she refuses to acknowledge it.
"Besides," she smirks, "I have Shakespeare fer entertainment."
[Roman Turner] He'd grown accustomed to odd looks with his hat and all, so for the most part he seemed not to notice the occasional honk or hoot as he strolled down the street. Tonight the old serviceable Stetson was pushed back so he could catch a better look at Kora's face in the light from shops and street lamps they passed under.
"Got the john installed today and excepting for the color, it ain't half bad if I say so myself. Look on the bright side, brown won't show so much cra..er...stuff like a white one would."
[ENN ARRR] He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.
"Well, suit ye self Dr. Slaughter, I don't mind learnin' bout human tales." There doesn't seem to be disapproval in the way he says it.
"I might look into this King Lear though myself, or maybe some other Shakespeare. Sounds like a story I could sink my teeth into."
[Sparrow] Who knew what she was doing in this part of town. Probably looking for food.
More accurately, Sparrow was buying a shirt. She was on the streets, in one of those faux Chinese-cut shirts and her usual, ubiquitous skirt and boot combo. She bundles something up in a plastic bag and shoves it in a trash can. The shirt seems to be a nice enough fit, covers all she needs covered, then again, no one really wants to look her way. it's been a bad day.
Sparrow checks her bracelets, making sure they're all on. some are metal, some wood and beads and what-have-you.
What she's wearing isn't important, though. What is important, however, is that she's out and about tonight, and headed towards a group of people. Her stomach growls an unpleasant, angry sound.
[Imogen] "Make sure," she says, idly as she crushes out her cigarette, "that yeh buy a copy wi' colloquial explanations opposite the verses."
She picks up her tea pot and pours, fragrant green liquid filling the cope. "Most find Shakespeare's language rather inaccessible, particularly if it's their first time through."
[Roman Turner] He'd scrounged the toilet from a condemned apartment building and though the seat didn't match because it came from another location, the mix came out looking like some twisted ice-cream sunday in his young mind. Well worn boots better suited for a ranch, along with stiffly pressed dark blue Wrangler jeans, combined with the hat and button up western cut shirt, all set him apart from the rest of the city. And there was Sparrow up ahead in that danged skirt she insisted on wearing though the wind blew so hard here he was sure she was going to end up with it up over her head showing her business to all of Chicago. His reaction on spotting Sparrow was to curl his tongue between his teeth and let out a high piecing whistle followed by a shout.
"CUZ!"
[Rainer] He comes out of nowhere...as much as a 6'2 blonde can anyway. One minute NR is chatting to a lovely red haired kinswoman. Rainer walks out onto the sidewalk and sees them. He can't pass for human if you know what you're looking for. But he doesn't scare anyone who doesn't. The next minutes he's slapping a hand on the Godi's thick shoulder. He - rather loudly - asks "What did I tell you!" Keeps his hand on NR's shoulder. Looks at Imogen. Looks back to NR. Grins that grin that NR has probably wanted to cuff off his face a few times. "Oh I'm sorry am I interrupting?"
[ENN ARRR] His jaw clenches and he none too politely gives his shoulder a heavy shrug to remove the paw from his cousin. His eyes flick upwards to the man and he stares at him a moment, narrowing his eyes before he smiles.
"Dr. Slaughter, this is my cousin Rainer. Rainer, Dr. Slaughter."
It's then he spots Sparrow, then hears a rather high pitched whistle. His ears twitch inhumanely and his chin shifts to the sound.
"Our kind. New faces to me." This said more to Rainer.
[Imogen] Imogen regards Rainer mildly as he smacks Night's Reprieve's shoulder, as he grins a shit-eating grin and asks if he's disturbing anything.
"Not at all," she says, her voice deliberately mild, and unrevealing beyond that.
The piercing whistle draws Imogen's attention as well, and she catches sight of Roman, then Sparrow beyond him. Though the words were not spoken to her, she answers them anyway.
"They are your Jarl's packmates," she says.
[Sparrow] "Ro-maaaaaaaaan!" she yells back. She waves. Back and forth, her bracelets jingle. There is a distinct disconnect, because looking at her, something about that girl with all that rage can't possibly be right, but we digress. "Quit makinsomuchracketohmygaaaaawd!"
She grins afterward. Family. Ohhh joy.
[Rainer] You can't blame his behaviour on alcohol. It's not on his breath. His eyes are clear. He doesn't stumble when NR shakes him off. Rainer pulls out a pack of gum. Starts chewing a piece as they're introduced. He doesn't share the Godi's accent. His own is Louisianan but not Cajun. "Pleasure, Dr. Slaughter, ma'am."
Then there's a ruckus. Rainer looks over at them. Looks back to NR. Flicks his eyebrows. "Well, I reckon we ought to go make ourselves acquainted, don't you?"
[Roman Turner] His youthful face cracked in a wide smile with the ruckas Sparrow made. Sometimes she cracked him up.
"Lord howdy, look at the way she's wavin them skinny arms around like she's trying to land a dang plane."
He chuckled shaking his head as they closed distance and he finally spotted that pretty red hair of Imogen's and the two dudes she was with and his heart tightened. His Angel was out with another fella. Not just one, but two.
[Kora] "That's a charming thought," Kora muttered, the edge of a familiar smile curving across her generous mouth. She's a head taller than the Gaian, but the Stetson makes up some of the difference. Maybe the cowboy boots do, too. They walk in step, that sort of easy grace of pack animals. Her Doc Marten's, his cowboy boots. She is wearing an old black t-shirt announcing her love of late 80s indie music PIXIES it says, white letters on black cotton over worn jeans, multicolored laces threaded around the shafts of the boots at her calves.
Then Roman spots Sparrow, and whistles. Kora glances up, briefly visible in profile, from where her attention is snagged on something in a picture window. Some old junk shop, selling antiques and "antiques" and paperback books, seventy-five cents each or ten for five dollars, half of them in Mandarin.
Kora appears just after Sparrow waves from across the street, standing on the curb at Roman's side. Her hands are still in her pockets, sunk there to the first knuckle, this easy body language, lean and sure. She lifts her chin by way of greeting to Sparrow, turning her head in an animal cant visible from across the street, if only because of the weight of her hair, pulled back from her features and secured by the barrel of a broken mechanical pencil.
Then her glance shifts, tracing the line of Roman's sight as he finds Imogen, two strangers. Shall we?
The invitation has a sort of lilt in the back of her mind.
To be fair, she doesn't really wait for an answer, just nudges Roman with her hip, tips her head to Sparrow, and starts walking toward the patio.
Hope Imogen ordered the large pot of tea.
[Kora] (sorry! lost my first post, then had a bunch of narration to do. my internet is extra wonky tonight! fair warning. :) )
[ENN ARRR] "I reckon they be comin' to us Cousin."
His eyes glance to Imogen for a moment and mention of the Jarl's pack. Interesting. Very interesting.
"Best behave Marred Valor."
And then he waits.
[Roman Turner] He heard the little Shall we? almost as if he had thought the words. Having someone else talking in his head was still new to him and sometimes he wondered if Kora could read any of his thoughts, though he figured since she didn't have white hair springing out of her head yet, she likely couldn't read what she really shouldn't and remain sane. So, along with his Alpha, he started in the direction of his double dating Angel with a crushed heart tightening his chest.
[Imogen] (uhm... i JUST NOW realized it is my turn, so if someone else has a post ready, go ahead!)
[Imogen] Imogen regards the approaching Garou, her expression contained, carefully maintained. Roman looks slightly hang-dog. Imogen watches all three, then turns back to her table. There are a few plates in front of her, all cooling. The waiter has not bothered to brave the outdoors to retrieve them since the arrival of Night's Reprieve.
The Garou approach and Imogen -
Imogen lights a cigarette.
[Rainer] "Who, me?" Like the thought of not behaving never crossed his mind. He pretends to try to look innocent. It's different from when he actually tries to look innocent. "Bro I always behave."
[ENN ARRR] He throws his wayward cousin a sceptical look and grimaces.
"This should be lovely."
[Imogen] (Lethe is once more having connection problems)
[Kora] Roman's heart is being slowly crushed in his chest, squeezed into some essential nugget of blood and muscle. Kora is this even counterpoint to the young cowboy, worrying about his Alpha reading his thoughts, feeling the stirring of jealousy under his skin. Her hands remain in her pockets, but after that tip of her head toward Sparrow, her dark eyes remain on the trio. On Imogen, first.
Kora is keen-eyed and alert; from a distance, she studies Imogen's body language. As the pair - Sparrow behind them, doubtless, crossing the street, in her skirts and bangles - approach the patio, her dark gaze shifts from Imogen to the pair of Garou with her.
"Evening, Doc." her voice is low. "Sorry to intrude." She steps adroitly around one of the chairs scattered outside, skirts an empty table, Roman in her wake. There's no pure blood in her. Of the pair of strange Garou, her attention slides to Rainer, first. The breeding is the draw. Then it shifts to Night's Reprieve, as her sense of their body language wins over breeding. The look he shot the other, and the grimace.
"Who are your friends?" Kora's attention is sure, direct and steady on Night's Reprieve. It's clear that she expects the Garou, not the kinswoman, to answer that particular question.
[Imogen] Kora apologizes for intruding and Imogen's flicker of an expression is something like amusement, wry and perhaps a little resigned.
She says nothing, as Kora asks the kinwoman a question, but clearly expecting the Garou to answer.
She takes another drag of her cigarette and moves her attention to passers-by.
[Roman Turner] Indeed he tagged along with his Alpha and when she drew close to the strangers, he took up a tactical position of slightly behind and to the left of Kora. He reached up and with a slight touch to the brim of his hat said.
"Well howdy there Miss Doctor Slaughter. Fine evening, ain't it just?"
Putting on his best show face. The two Garou received a faint nod of his head. His breeding was faint, but it was there and though he stood just under five and a half feet, the boots and hat gave him a few added inches. In his mid-teens, with low rage, he normally didn't cause much of a stir unless it was to laugh at his accent or clothing.
[ENN ARRR] His eyes travel from Imogen to the new comers, looking over all of them as he leans back in his chair before finally resting upon Kora. He sucks in his cheeks and pushes his lips out a moment in thought.
"Night's Reprieve, cliath Godi of Fenris. This " he indicates with a shrug of his head "Is Rainer, Marred Valor. Cliath Forseti, my cousin and my pack mate." His accent is strong, Cajun. They ain't from around here.
Usually he would let the taller my youthful looking Forseti damn well introduce himself. He seems like he doesn't want to give the guy a chance to speak though if it can be avoided.
Imogen had said the Jarl's packmates were approaching. She said nothing of the Jarl herself.
[Roman Turner] Eyes the color of faded denim moved from the reclining speaking Night's Reprieve to Marred Valor. Chestnut hair peeked out beneath the hat he wore, showing at the back of his neck and ears. Though he wanted to look at Kora, he didn't and he managed to keep his mental voice under control too. Miracles do happen sometimes.
[Fire-Claws] The city was much larger than one would begin to expect. Much to hunt as it seemed that the wyrm was everywhere. And the more to hunt the better. But he was still new here, there were other packs that called this place home, even if the markings were hard to find in this damned body.
But he did have a mission to uphold, first and foremost was coming across what he had learned was his Jarl. Some bad ass woman named Kora, not much to go on, but it would have to do. The bold little kin monkey didn't go into detail about her, but the name and the idea of what this city had to offer would be enough.
Hunting down this one down would take a great deal of work. But this part of the city, so filled with people it almost made him sick. The way they crowded the streets, most of them looking for some tainted food or some sadistic pleasure to be filled. Dark brown eyes narrow as he moves through the street, watching as people part to make way for him.
[Kora] Night's Reprieve would have a few inches of height on her if he were standing up. He's sitting down, though, and she's simply - taller. Her longer fingers are curled over the back of one of the wrought iron chairs scattered around the open patio. The nails are blunt. They were painted black sometime in the last three weeks, but most of that polish has flaked away.
"Kora, Eyjólfsdóttir to my kin, just Kora here. she who offers sorrow to the Nation, fostered at the Sept of Wind and Rain in Hjaltland, cliath, Skald, Jarl of the Fenrir of Maelstrom and alpha a pack under Hermóðr. My packmates," she tips her head toward Roman. " - can introduce themselves."
There's no accent to her voice; it is simply low - a rich alto with a certain confident undertone. She has narrow shoulders and a lean physique that tends toward the boyish, except for the distinct, subtle curve of her hips.
"I'm glad to see more Fenrir. Are you passing through? Or here to stay?"
[Rainer] They're the same height. Their hair and eyes look similar. But Rainer has breeding his cousin doesn't. Doesn't make him a better warrior or a better Fenrir. Just makes him easier to spot. He looks from Kora to Roman. Looks back. His nostrils flare when he smells Imogen's cigarette. He keeps chewing his gum...and maybe to NR's surprise doesn't interrupt.
[Roman Turner] "Howdy, I'm Roman Turner, given the name of Fate by the Nation. New Moon, Cliath, Coggie."
Let them figure out how on earth two Coggies ended up in a pack with a Fenrir Alpha following a Fenrir Totem. He still couldn't explain how they just fit.
[ENN ARRR] Cliath, Skald, Jarl.
The Godi narrows his brows and is jaw twitches slightly. His cousin's silence is noted, gold stars are added to his chart on the pack wall.
"Honor to meet you Jarl, we have decided to stay. There is much to be done in the city, many battles to be fought." He watches her a moment longer before his eyes flick to Roman and he nods his head.
Packed with a Coggie, it gets stranger.
"Are there many more of our Tribe in the city sister?"
[Imogen] Imogen turns her head when she exhales, though it does not keep the Garou from the smell of the poison which is one of her many vices.
The Garou's conversation washes around her. She smokes her cigarette - and beyond acknowledgement of Roman's brave-faced greeting, does not participate.
[Roman Turner] "This here is my Cousin, Sparrow Turner. Known to the Nation as Resistance. She's same rank, though a Full Moon."
Deciding to introduce his silent cousin.
[Fire-Claws] He does not seem much of an intimidating individual from a distance. Nothing about him screams hood or thug. His light blue short, worn and ripped around the collar makes him a bit scruffy but some homeless bum people would avoid. There was something else, the way he stood. Something more, predatory about it.
But that seems that once again he was in luck, another night and there seemed to be a gathering not too far off. Several individuals talking amongst themselves around a large patio, some standing out like beacons. The purity of the gathered ebbed from one to the next, a dangerous gathering that must surely make the wyrm flee from this area.
A gathering he would need to be apart of, to introduce himself and learn of the others in this city. His path now decidedly changed for the large group.
[Victor Oseragighte] Victor swings through Chinatown every so often. He likes to travel. Likes to roam. It's in his blood, really, a certain wanderlust he can't quite name. The curious chill in the air is bracing to him, enjoyable, and against the wind he wears nothing but a black tank-top, brown dungarees, and his hard-toed boots, letting the wind dance across his dark skin gladly as he walks. They'll spot him before he does them probably, as he comes around the corner and happens to look the opposite direction first, down the street.
[Kora] Night's Reprieve announces that there is much to be done, many battles to be fought, and Kora exhales this brief, sharp breath, her nostrils flaring. Her features are dominated by a firm jaw, dark eyes and an expressive mouth that seems to curve into a faint smile even at its most neutral position.
Her mouth is still now, though, her dark eyes intent on the Godi, missing none of his minute expressions. "You've figured that out, have you?" she says, after, this brief, sharp look lilting between the pair of packmates. " - in so short a time, too." There's a sort of wry humor that lines in the undertone of her words.
"You've made your sacrifice to Maelstrom, then?"
The humor sifts away, like ash on the wind. Then the Godi asks her if there are many of the tribe in the city. Her attention draws back to him. There is a moment when it swings away, up the street, down. "There are more in the graves than among the living."
[Imogen] Imogen's brow darkens, then a moment later, smooths. She takes another drag from her cigarette.
[Roman Turner] He picked Victor out on the crowded night street pretty easily. They'd flown a kite together and been in a couple of battles together, though the last adventure to the Battle Grounds with Victor's pack had been the most confusing thing ever and he'd not seen the other Garou since. From Victor his curious gaze landed on Fire-Claws heading their way with a sense of purpose.
"Incoming" Was whispered across the Totem Link to Kora.
[ENN ARRR] He leans forward, placing his elbows on the table and raising his eyes to hers.
"Aye, figured it out with blood of my own, with my own life even on the first night in this town." His battle scar is obvious beneath his wife beater, the top of it peeking up out of the top. His eyes are serious, his tone deadly plain. This is nothing to find amusement over. The city is worse than many the Godi has travelled through.
After a moment he leans back, relaxing and he smiles.
"But, is it not the way of our tribe sister? Glory in death, glory in blood spilt." a pause. "Sacrifices have been made. Both for the totem and for the cause."
He gives a nod to his cousin.
[Victor Oseragighte] When his gaze comes around and settles on those gathered outside the restaurant, he has a moment to pause and decide if he will approach. In the end, he does so, crossing the street at his own measured pace, stoic and silent. Black eyes study the gathered.
[Fire-Claws] He begins to approach the group, slowly and cautiously. Within this form it is hard to know whose who. The human body language is so read. But with the degrees of purity within this group and the intensity of several of those about made this a prime choice to make his introductions known.
He does not speak so quickly, waiting until he can get the attention of those first before he even begins to speak. This may even be the territory of one of them, in fact it was quite likely. But there was no true way of knowing. His words, when spoken come out garbled and thick, marking him from the south.
"Eve'in."
[Imogen] Victor, Fire-claws approaches. The kinwoman regards them both for several seconds.
"You're going to run out of chairs," this as if this had not been her table originally - a place of solitude which one can gather by the book, the finished plates, the cigarette in the ashtray when she is the only smoker.
[Roman Turner] He turned so he was nearly back to back with Kora and facing the arriving Fire-Claws and Victor. Touching the brim of his hat with a nod to the two.
"Eve'in."
Was returned and an added.
"Howdy Vic."
[Kora] "These are the last days. There's work to be done, as you say, everywhere I think. Though if it's glory you're here for - glory in death, glory in blood spilled - you'll find it easily enough. If you're here for more than that - " that curve lingers at the edge of her expression. " - well, we'll know that in a few moons, I think.
"My pack and I claim territory north of the Caern, which has been held by the tribe since the Caern was raised. You're welcome there if you have need of me or mine. Or if you wish to learn more about the Caern and its history, and the tribe here.
There's a flicker of Kora's dark eyes from Night's Reprieve back to the street. There's an evenness to the way she returns the words to the Godi. This sort of straight line, touched with both reserve and a sort of living awareness.
Then Victor and Fire-Claws approach. Imogen remarks on the chair situation. Kora cuts her a sidelong glance. "Remind me later, Doc. I owe you two beers for this."
Kora is standing, her hands on the back of one of the chairs. Her body language shifts as she pulls out the chair, steps back, away from the table for another to drag over, this sort of natural, underlying hospitality.
"Victor," she says, to the Wendigo. "Join us, yeah?"
Then Fire-Claws, Kora steps away from the chair, her dark eyes touching on the new comer's plain face, is ordinary clothing. The sense of the animal about him.
"And who are you?"
[Kora] I MISS THE OLD GET OF FENRIS.
poor Kora. she's so cynical now. :(
to Peeker
[Victor Oseragighte] Roman gets a nod and a 'hey' back, another bob of his head to Kora. His eyes do move to stare a moment at the Theurge there, before he finds a good place to stand, not bothering to take a seat for himself. In truth, Victor preferred to be on his feet, and usually only sat to make others comfortable, or to not stand out. But with Kora standing herself, he could get away with it, he reasoned.
[Fire-Claws] He looks about the group, looking for some sign. Something to tell him who might be alpha or who may have claimed this area as their own. He was a visitor on these lands, it was only right he make himself known to the pack who claimed it as their own.
He is turn to the look at the table she drags over, watching without even moving a muscle to aid her. He just merely stands there until the woman speaks to him directly.
"Fire-Claws.Claith forseti of the Get of Fernis. Born many days run from 'ere. Sept of 'idden Smoke. Dis ya territory?"
His works directly right at Kora now as she seems the one to take charge among the group. A primal intensity mixed in with cluttered words.
[Roman Turner] He wasn't so sure about Victor, but he was starting to feel like he was shoulder deep in Fenrir. Famine to Feast it seemed. And Imogen likely felt like she was swimming in Garou.
[ENN ARRR] The Godi stands, gives a shrug of his shoulder and a nudge to the ribs of his cousin.
"We'll think on that Kora, Right now though, we're doin the rounds" he looks over at the gathering garou, nodding his head to fire claws and then to victor.
"If any of you would like to join us, you're more than welcome."
He'll wait a moment for anyone to reply, offer up their service and then he's off. A casual smile and tip of his head to the kinfolk.
"Dr Slaughter."
And then the two cousins are waltzing off into the night.
[ENN ARRR] [Thanks for scene all! goin to roll~]
[Victor Oseragighte] (( 'night! ))
[Roman Turner] ((Night!))
[Fire-Claws] (Night)
[Kora] If any of the staff inside the small restaurant had thought about coming to Imogen's rescue, or at least about refilling her pot with hot water for a second brewing of tea, they've given it up now. The group is one of the strangest to gather on the patio of the small Chinese restaurant, and one of the most dangerous. Those few neighborhood residents out on the street cut across the street half-way down, find some other route to their destination rather than walking anywhere close to the group of Garou.
"This," she says, with a gesture of her head, expressive, that encompasses their surroundings, Chinatown with all its many small businesses, the grocery on the corner, the herbalist down the block, the markets and greengrocers and other stores with all manner of items up and down the street, " - isn't my territory, no.
"I'm Kora. Eyjólfsdóttir, to the kin at the Sept of Wind and Rain in Hjaltland, where I fostered. she who offers sorrow to the Nation, cliath and Skald and daughter of Fenris, Jarl of the Sept. Have a seat."
There's a flicker of a look up as Night's Reprieve stands, to go patrol. "Be well, -yuf."
[Roman Turner] ((Ok, too dead to continue. Thanks for the play y'all.))
Roman watched the two Fenrir (well two of them) depart and after a moment he muttered something about finding service and headed in to the restaurant.
[Victor Oseragighte] The Wendigo watches the Theurge's departure before his eyes swing to the new arrival, a very new arrival apparently. Roman moves inside and he glances briefly to him, then back, not yet making his own introduction, deciding to wait until addressed directly and bide his time, observe.
[Rainer] He did a good job of not embarrassing his cousin. He stands quiet...and respectful...until he's nudged in the ribs. Then he perks up. Looks around at the others and gives a nod. "Nice meeting ya'll," he says. Gives a short salute. Walks off after his cousin.
(( Sorry so quiet all, been distracted all scene, LOL! Thanks for the play! ))
[Imogen] The kinwoman looks up as the Fenrir cousins depart, and merely watches them go without farewell. She lifts her cigarette back to her lips, inhaling deeply and turning her head to exhale it away from the Garou.
Introduction recur - the redhaired woman - pure-bred, pure-blooded does not see fit to partake in them. Her silence is a gap among them, though less noticeable for her half-blood.
[Fire-Claws] He watches as the gathering started to disperse. It was not uncommon, a new wolf in there midst was not so desirable to have. Besides there was much to hunt and many wyrm to kill. Afterwards he looked at Kora a moment before taking a seat when it was offered. So this was the Kora he had learned of. The bold kin monkey did not need to be so vague with such things.
"Am 'ere to make known, Jarl. Unknown to dis scab, no pack. I offa' my claws."
He looked towards the pure kin a moment, then back to Kora. City kin were strange to him.
[Kora] Things shift. Roman heads inside. Sparrow never really joins them, distracted by something in some window close by. The other pair of Fenrir stand and leave, make their farewells. Imogen smokes. And Fire-Claws makes himself known.
It is cooler now, out on the patio. Victor is standing. He doesn't like to sit. Kora sits a moment after Fire-Claws does, though, easing herself into the wrought-iron chair. Her shoulders are level and her spine is straight when she stands, but when she pulls out the chair and lowers herself into it, she she sits with her spine a curve against the right angle of the chair.
Something shifts in her at Fire-Claws so-basic offer of his claws, in this scab. "I'm glad to know you, then," she tells him, simply. " - and glad to have your claws on our side. This - " she tips her head at Victor," " - is Victor. My packmate Roman is inside the store. And this is Dr. Slaughter, kin. You're welcome here. And - forgive the presumption, but - " a faint pause, the furrowing of her brow. She lowers her quiet voice, her head canting sidelong in an animal gesture. " - are you wolf-born?"
[Kora] (sorry! wasn't refreshing!)
[Imogen] The fianna-blooded kinwoman turns her gaze toward Kora as she is introduced. Her attention moves to Fire-Claws - not much else.
A moment later, she crushes out her cigarette and gets to her feet. She is slighter than them all - clearer now that she stands as they all do. Slim-framed, slight-boned and even in heels, shorter than every one.
She walks into the restaurant - the book left on the table the only sign that she has any intention of returning.
[Victor Oseragighte] The Wendigo does take a seat, reluctantly, when everybody else finally does, so as not to appear to far apart. At Kora's introduction of him he just nods for now, letting her speak with the newcomer for now. It's easier truly for him, as he's interested as well but quite content to let her ask questions of the man. At the insight that he might be wolf-born, Victor's eyes narrow and curiosity flits through them.
[Imogen] (oh oops. Somehow totally missed the part about them all sitting. ahem.)
[Fire-Claws] He does not sit so graceful as she, unnatural pieces of iron molded by others does not make it any more comfortable or easy to sit in. He just seems to plop himself down, not even beginning to position like his Jarl had. It was just there to use to get off one's feet.
He cants his head to the side as the kin is regarded and stands. His attention quickly moves onto Victor, nodding in return to the other. He was still getting used to this way of introduction and making oneself known.
He tries his hardest to understand what Kora is saying, a couple of the words are lost in the gibber-jabber. But the last part he understands quite well. Nodding in return.
"Ya. Lone wolf now."
[Kora] "I was a lone wolf when I came to the Sept, Fire-Claws-yuf," Kora says. Her expressions are natural and easy, and human. The curve of a generous mouth, the gleam of light - animal - across her dark blue eyes. Her hair, thick and fine and fragrant with her scent, pulled up and twisted at the nape of her neck. "The first person I sought was the Jarl. His name was Truth-in-Frenzy, and he was an Adren. He offered me hospitality without question. I shared his home - such as it was in the city - until we hunted out a totem together.
"I make you the same offer. My pack claims territory just north of the Caern. It is territory that has been held by another pack, until the last of them fell and their Alpha left, since the Caern was founded. If you cross over, you will see the markings, the trophy poles, the warnings to those who would violate the territory easily. The neighborhood is called Cabrini, though I expect that means little to you. It follows the river, back from the lake into the heart of the city.
"There is little wild about it, but that is what we claim, and that is where we stay, in the remnants of an old church in the center of the territory.
"You're welcome, there. Until you find a place with another, or with my pack." The offer she makes him is unconditional, direct and clear. She holds his attention the whole time, though the particulars of her expressions are lost in both translation and the deep shadows of the street.
"I want to know, though - what brings you to the city? And do you intend to stay?"
[Victor Oseragighte] Direct. That was his initial assessment of Kora. She cut to the meat of the matter, whatever the matter happened to be. And that could be refreshing. It made it easier for him, made it so he had to say even less than usual, which suited him fine. He'd rather listen and act than talk.
[Imogen] Not much later, she returns, her bill paid. The conversation here is stilted. Victor says nothing, Imogen says nothing. Kora speaks well and clearly. Fire-Claws speaks a language garbled by his feral roots.
Still, she re-takes her seat, pulling the chair back and drawing it beneath her as she lowers herself to it, before picking up her tea cup and sipping the tepid liquid.
It is stubbornness perhaps - that she does not leave until she is well and finished.
[Fire-Claws] He could smell that scent, he has smelt it before. It was off the bold kin woman, the one that told him she did not know much about their Jarl. He was not pleased now, it began to right over his face.
But he did try and listen, learned from the leader of this Sept. The story of her beginning in this Sept, with an Adren who was so willing to offer his hunting grounds to another. Much of her story goes by the wayside, expect the mention of the Caern and where to find the pack lands.
"Wha' spirit da duj falla. If I may ax'?"
He was hungry indeed, there was little hunting to be found in this city and what he did find in this scab he offered up to the spirit of Maelstrom. It was all he had to offer, the first kill. Even if it had left him weak after such a long run.
"I 'unt wyrm. Killed ma' pack, ma alpha. I 'unt many nights. Takes me to home of cold winds. I kill many on 'unt. I 'ad no land to return to. Learn of this Sept and need claws, much wyrm to kill."
[Kora] "We follow Hermóðr the Brave." Kora tells him. Her chin rises briefly by way of greeting as Imogen returns, her bill paid, to sit down despite the strangeness of the setting, the awkwardness of the encounter, and the company. "Odin's son in the stories from the Eddas, a spirit of respect and of war, of Fenris' brood. Both of my packmates are Children of Gaia, but both have proven themselves to Hermóðr and his children, by tooth and claw."
"It's rare to find a Fenrir wolf-born in the City, -yuf. If you want to remain here, to pledge your troth to the Maelstrom, to stay and fight, you will have to adapt yourself to the city's ways, or the city will crush you. I hope you have the strength necessary to watch and listen and learn, Fire-Claws-yuf.
"And that we can count on your claws for moons to come." There's a lingering pause, Kora's dark eyes on Fire-Claws features, his expression troubled, and sharpened by his hunger.
"You look hungry. We'll find you something to eat."
[Victor Oseragighte] Wolf-born indeed. He wore the human shape better than some, though. Victor hadn't known that both of Kora's packmates were Children, only Roman. He'd have to ask her more about them, clearly. The mention of food makes his own stomach rumble a little; though divorced now from the Charm, he still carried some residual effects for the moment, largely their hunger. He knew this would fade with time and separation, though.
[Imogen] She empties her tea and gets to her feet once more.
"Enjoy th'rest of yer night," she says, to no one in particular before flicking her gaze to Kora. "Three beers," she says in an apparent nonsequitor, her mouth twisted. She picks up her closed book and takes her purse from the back of her chair before she starts away.
[Fire-Claws] He listens keenly about the spirit that they follow. A strong spirit one cannot argue. It asks much of those that follow it, but those that do follow become very able. He had heard some tales of another pack that claimed great stamina and prowess in battle. But two children of Gaia follow such of Great Fenris' brood, they must not be they type of children that he knows of.
"Rough is da scab. Confusin. But much to 'unt. Many wyrm to kill. I will stay and 'unt well."
He watches her as it seems that she knows what he is feeling.
"Yes. This form is... weak. Must feed often. I will hunt soon."
[Kora] Imogen says three beers and Kora flashes her a lifting half-smile, rather more expressive than the twist of the kinswoman's mouth. "You got it doc," Kora says, low-voiced.
"Fire-Claws-yuf," Kora's attention turns back to the wolf-born. In the end, you'll want to save your scab-hunts for the Wyrm. Prey in the city is like as not to be poisoned, tainted, wrong somehow. One of your first lessons in adapting to the city will be buying food. Or at least learning to eat foods that humans have butchered, rather than prey you yourself have driven to ground.
"For now, though - I have to go, too. I've been too long from my territory." She flashes a passing look to Victor, then back to Fire-Claws. "You know where to find me. You're both welcome."
[Kora] (hah, like mei, I am turning into a PUMPKIN. (grins) you guys should keep playing if you like? and let me know if your guys are going to turn up at the church, so I can pass it on to mindy and blu. :) )
to Fire-Claws, Imogen, Victor Oseragighte
[Fire-Claws] (Have a good night both of you)
[Imogen] (yes. pumpkin. OH GOD. zzzz.
Night guys! thank you for the play! *grin*)
[Kora] (grins) thanks guys. Kora will buy you guys some sushi before she goes if that would set up interesting interactions. otherwise: I R SO DEAD. thanks for patience with my internet issues. :)
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