[Slaughter] It starts with a phone call - one which is fairly straight forward. Imogen barely introduces herself when Hunter picks up, allowing her accent to do most of the introduction for her.
She has something she thinks he'll be interested in - where can they meet?
It's only as they're ringing off, she includes an important detail: "I'm bringing Kora." The line dies.
And so - wherever he has said, whatever directions he has given, that is where they are. They arrive together in Imogen's volvo (and Kora can smell the faded blood and guts with the certainty of pregnancy; but cannot tell if it is psychosomatic, or simply a trace of the last body disposal, seeped into the fabric of the seats.
Imogen parks a handful of blocks away out of habit. They walk the remainder.
[Hunter] When Imogen first speaks up, Hunter is instantly awake. It doesn't matter if he was taking a nap or in the shower or anything. The sound of her voice on his phone can only mean one thing and that thing is most certainly trouble. But she says there's something he'll be interested in. It is a fine line between interest and concern. Hunter doesn't bother to make the distinction in the brief conversation. He gives her an address.
They find themselves arriving upon a warehouse bare of lawn or gate but a wire mesh fence lines part of the border-line of the property. There is a single large roller door on the front of it with a smaller normal door to the side. Both are closed and Hunter Matthews stands outside, hands in pockets and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looks alert, tense.
They find themselves outside the pack house of the Vanguard.
"What is it?" He asks, he doesn't say hello, doesn't sound cheerful or even angry. Hunter Matthews in business mode. His eyes briefly flick to Kora and he gives her a little nod in respect, she may enter his territory.
[Kora] Still below freezing, but the evening is balmy after the arctic freeze over the weekend. Ice has melted on the sidewalks, filled the storm sewers with great ponds of sullen black water that gurgle down through the clogged drains. The day's melt is already beginning to refreeze. It's dark outside, a cloud-cast night and so beyond the shadows of the dingy buildings - the squat warehouse, ringed with its mesh fence - the sky glows a malevolent sort of orange, all that light reflecting off the compacted snow reflecting back down from the cloud cover gives the horizon a sort of nuclear glow. Something on the horizon. Something terrible.
Kora stands head and shoulders taller than the slight kinswoman; against the powerful lure of Imogen's breeding, Kora's blood is silent. She has a long, confident gait, but some of the predatory sweep - that certainly about her body, the way it fits together, where gravity changes it again - is lost now. It's subtle, apparent only to someone who knows her well.
Or another predator.
Still, there's a certain freedom after the confinement of the ride, the blast of the heater, the - smell sunk into the cushions - about which she says not a word. Just keeps it in her mouth, in the back of her throat, the unfamiliar feeling of queasiness a tickle in the back of her throat.
"It's a bit more involved," says the Fenrir, a twist of her generous mouth around the words, the ambient light gleaming across the surface of her dark eyes. " - than the surroundings warrant. The doc has some maps. You have a place where we can spread out?"
[Slaughter] Imogen walks beside Kora and their gaits are sharply different. Imogen walks less like a predator and more - there is no perfect description for her. Not warrior, not dancer, not gymnast. She walks from point a to b, and only uses the precise amount of energy required for the act.
There is a grace in that economy.
She stands slighter than Kora, her hands pocketed in a nondescript corduroy jacket, her skin pale with the cold. There's no attempt at introductions or friendliness. She merely touches the satchel at her side, "Even the floor will do," a flick of her gaze indicates the Vanguard's packhouse.
[Hunter] Eyes flick between the predator and the kin as Kora speaks. Maps she says, a place to spread them out. Even the floor will do and Hunter raises an eyebrow at her, almost quirks a lip into a quasi-smile. Instead, he sucks on a tooth, chews at his lip briefly before nodding and turning towards the small door on the left of the warehouse. It opens and strangely doesn't squeak as it looks like it might. He leaves the door open for them.
Inside they see what would be expected, a flat expanse of garage with an oil stained concrete floor and an array of work benches along the back wall. It seems empty without the green glow of Cassius parked inside it. Hunters soft-tail beast of a bike looks lonely almost, leaned over on a tilt and facing the large roller door. There is a drain in the middle of the floor and dark red - turning brown - stains in the concrete around it.
To their left when they enter they see a structure within the warehouse. Plywood walls and yet another single door. It's to this door that Hunter Matthews moves.
"Shut tha' door," He comments as he's opening the next one.
Inside the living space they see a large lounge area, open plan with a kitchen along the far wall. A corridor begins far to their right and leads to what one would assume to bedrooms, a bathroom, the usual things. But Hunter stops here in the lounge where a couch is positioned on their right, facing the door with it's back to the kitchen. A large coffee table is in front of it and Hunter clears a few bottles from the top of it, carrying them over to the sink.
"Can use that." He indicates what he's talking about by nodding over his shoulder to the coffee table. "Drink? Beer? Water?" The words are thrown out with little interest, quickly, like he is getting formalities out of the way. That said, it isn't often a Gnawer offers someone a drink.
[Kora] There's no particular flicker of recognition from the Skald as they walk through the garage. She knows so little of cars that she would be hard-pressed to place Cassius within the proper decade, even with an error margin of plus or minus ten years. Hunter's motorcycle gets a longer look as they pass it; eyes steady as she moved. Kemp has a bike stored away, much smaller. She never saw him ride it; sold it for a few thousand dollars to send to the kid he'll never know.
The moment passes. Inside the living area, she starts unbuttoning her coat, unwinding her scarf, this winter ritual like a prayer to the seasons. Beneath, her clothing is casual layers - a white thermal, a gray t-shirt, a stripped blue hoodie, loose enough that she can wear it another few weeks. "Water'd be brilliant," she says, her voice low but pitched to carry - not melodic, not precisely, just modulated. "Thanks."
She sinks down onto the edge of the couch by the coffee table and waits for Hunter to return. Then begins, "So," a faint twist of her mouth. She's easy, even hear. Confident in her changing body. " - a few weeks ago, a cursed Garou posed as a realtor." A brief flaring pause. "A fucking realtor, yeah? And was showing this house in Cabrini that Drew, one of my kin, was looking to rent. The cursed one attacked her in the house, and she ran. The realtor Spiral had a whole pack secreted about. They chased her, but one of your tribe - Eve - came to Drew's aid. They killed one, but were badly wounded. Drew drove them to the church and the pack tracked her there.
"We ended them; but look - that's not a coincidence. And I've never heard of them having normal jobs. Showing houses. I asked the doc to look into it, find out who owned that house. See if there was anything there."
[Slaughter] It is not the cars or the motorcycle which draws Imogen's attention, but the dark red stains set deep into the concrete. She wonders briefly, if exposed to bleach and a blacklight, would they fluoresce.
It barely lasts a second, and she shuts the door behind her, following the other two to the plywood structure.
They can use the coffee table, which may be of a varying quality. Imogen sinks to a crouch before it, slinging the satchel from her shoulder and letting it slump beside her. She reaches in, pulling out the papers, picking up the conversation from Kora.
"I looked int' the company tha' owned the place - s'called ETA Property Management. They're a rather small company, but ha' properties throughout the city, usually in parts tha' are rather downtrodden, high crime. They also manage a few charity properties, small funded locations fer drug treatment or halfway homes. I've not found out much about them, as yet, as I've been focusing on the rentals."
She lays out several pages of printed paper, marked with highlighter. "These are where all th'properties are located. There are around ten properties in Cabrini Green, nearly twenty in Bronzeville, and three or so in the suburbs."
Each map is tapped as she indicates them, her pale finger long, the nail neatly manicured and unpainted. The finger returns to the Bronzeville map, "If yeh look here, they've got a neighbourhood that's not on their radar at all. I looked into it. Has the lowest crime rate in the community. Apparently due to community policing. But ETA has had no interest in them."
She pauses, briefly, before continuing. "There's at least one further coincidence o' taint in properties related to ETA properties, some time ago, Kora and I came across a family - the children were cannibals and the mother was killin' humans to feed them. Tha' property is owned by ETA."
A pause, a click of gears, though it is restrained on the kinwoman's face. The reaction is an abrupt stillness, then a glance in Kora's direction, then back down at the paper.
"They had pamphlets fer a church called 'End Times Assembly.' ETA - End Times Assembly. Hardly seems likely to be a coincidence." The moment of her revelation is restrained, but still, here she must pause for a moment, and gather her thoughts, and the new ones as they occur.
"I've not looked into that yet," she admits with a quiet deprecation. "Only just thought of it. Alright," she says the last word on an inhale. "I've got the names o' the officers o' the company as well, and the location of their PO Box. I'll attempt to connect them to the church as well as track down a location." She straightens, leaving the papers where they are.
"There yeh have it. So far, at least."
[Hunter] Hunter is silent while Kora speaks, all apart from the bumping of the fridge door opening and closing. He returns with a single water bottle, holds it out to her and there's a look on his face of the deepest concern.
And this is all before Imogen even begins speaking.
He doesn't have time to comment on how fucked up the thought of a realtor spiral is because Imogen is laying out maps and beginning to explain what on earth the Ahroun is looking at. At first he sees his territory, then the Fenrirs. He looks to Kora, perhaps shares in a glance and it's a sense of empathy there. It isn't just his area that they come to talk about, it affects hers as well. Has already had an impact upon her kin and her very pack-house. The thought is... unsettling.
And then there are the cannibal children.
Hunter lets out a startled "The fuck?" in the middle of it all and then goes quiet again. It isn't until the kin stops speaking that Hunter lets out a rumbling of thought that announces the finding of his tongue.
"That is some fucked up shit." He says, eyebrows raised. "I just had to get that outta' the way." He lets out a breath. "The fuck are they doin? I mean I's had some fomor trouble in the past, found some kinda' group that was kick'n peeps outta' their homes and turnin' em into some sorta' underground connection'a labs. But this... Dancers? In the fuckin' city all organised'n shit? So far from the hive?"
He blinks and looks at Kora.
"S'fucked S'all."
Eyes fall back to the map and he begins pointing out some of the locations marked within bronzeville. "You can't fuckin' think that all these.." He pauses, runs a hand over his face. "God fuckin' damnit. We got eyes on any'o'tha places? I mean sure.. officers n'shit.. head'o'tha snake n'all that.. But what about my streets in the mean time?"
[Kora] "The house where Drew was attacked looked - " a faint curl of Kora's shoulders as she leans over the map, reorienting the map of Cabrini. Her pale hair is pulled sharply back from her features, halfbraided, then twisted upon its own weight where it falls as a soft mass behind her neck.
Pale blond - the sort that looks white in the moonlight and gold beneath the sun - and fine. Impossible to curl outside of the waves that set in after it has been braided for a day and a night and a day again. Still, there's no mistaking the animal in her, not even when she looks up, reaches for the bottle of water. Not even when she smiles her thanks. Easy too, and quiet, the look. " - well, normal, on this side and that. Except for the signs of battle, which we cleaned up. We haven't had the chance to check out the rest, yet. And," here her smile twists, deepens. " - there are an awful lot of them to check out.
"Li's Hrafn keep an eye on happenings close to our territory here, but you don't want to know what sort of work it requires to keep their counterparts happy on this side of the gauntlet. This is our territory, here."
Last Watch claims a few spare blocks there, bordering the Caern, following the river. They've never taken their territory all the way to the edge even of that which the Eagles. The area she marks out on Imogen's maps is almost pitifully small, sharply jointed from the rest by the movement of her index finger over the map. " - maybe the Hrafn can get eyes on one or two of these, but not all of them.
"I'm going to send Roman to scout out the place where we killed the cursed children." A glance at Imogen, " - maybe ask Izzy if she has any intel on this stuff. Or Trent." A brief twist of her shoulders, a lift of her dark eyes toward Hunter. "My mate. He's a handyman. Fixes people's houses. Hopefully not those cursed by the Unmaker, though." She pauses, hmmm, low in the back of her throat.
[Slaughter] "I think," Imogen speaks with an even voice as she rocks back on her heels, straightening her spine to ease the tension of a brief time spent leaned forward, "that we will need to accept that though we now know tha' there is something very large brewing, that we cannot take care of it all immediately."
A beat, "Or perhaps ever."
A few strands of hair have fallen into her eyes and she turns her head briefly, sending them swaying back. This, mostly to Hunter.
"Detective Montoya can help. And maybe we can find a way t'start attackin' the company from the human side. If they're illegal enough and somehow we get it to be media worthy enough."
Her shoulders lift a little, a slight shrug, and she does not bother concluding that sentence. "Weaken the company, the holdings and the money. It will make it easier for an attack to have long term benefits." Her mouth twists slightly.
"Keep the head of the snake from growing back."
[Hunter] What they tell him does not make him happy at all. He frowns, he crosses his arms over his chest and he leans back against the wall near the side of the couch.
"My pack does assaults, get in, get out, that kind'a shit. Hard fast n'fuckin' deadly is what we do. Quiet too. I can hit these places." he states with absolute certainty. "I can hit em'all and fuckin' tear em all down. But what you're tellin' me is there's all this shit goin' on and we gotta' sit on our fuckin' hands while the human side get's hit? The fuckin' media?"
He sighs.
"I know, fuckin' don't wanna scare em into hidin' or nothin' but seriously I don't fuckin' like it." A pause long enough for an interjection if there is one. "We can snoop. I mean, I see the sense in not bangin' gongs n'breakin' down doors, but I wanna know what's going on in them properties. I'mma find out."
[Slaughter] Imogen arches an eyebrow, lifting her chin to look at him. "I do believe we're here to make an effort to work together, as both territories are impacted, as are other areas.
"Perhaps we could work on that, first, before you begin running off satisfying your curiosity."
[Kora] "We need to keep it quiet," says Kora, " - and focused. Right now, all we know is that there is something out there. We don't know if this is the body of the beast, or just its eyes on the world. Maybe these places are meant to draw us out into the open, like that dead rite trap we found in the umbra, yeah?"
There's a sharp, sweeping look she gives Hunter, upward. "It's pointless to hit every house. Keep an eye out, yeah. Scout a few - okay. But it's like looking at an iceberg. The dangerous stuff right now is all under the surface." She cuts a glance between the pair when Imogen speaks up, her features stilling. "I'm going to see what my kin can shake out. If you want to hook up with Roman for that scouting expedition, let me know. Otherwise, we'll be in touch when we have more. I hope we can expect the same."
[Hunter] Jaw tensed, that tick is there. He looks at Imogen like he wants to throw her through the wall of the lounge. He doesn't though he licks over a canine.
"Curiosity? You think it's fuckin' curiosity?" He lets out a breath, looks to Kora. "Me n'Joey'll hook up with your boy Roman, see what's what. I can have Joey ask around tha' shelters, we do work some'a tha' less fortunate kids in bronze. Maybe they heard bout somethin' if it's all in the heavy crime area's like you says. If there's fishy shit goin' on somebody gotta know somethin'."
A pause and he looks at both of them.
"Thanks for bringin' it to my attention."
[Hunter] [oh and there should be a I'll keep in touch in there]
She has something she thinks he'll be interested in - where can they meet?
It's only as they're ringing off, she includes an important detail: "I'm bringing Kora." The line dies.
And so - wherever he has said, whatever directions he has given, that is where they are. They arrive together in Imogen's volvo (and Kora can smell the faded blood and guts with the certainty of pregnancy; but cannot tell if it is psychosomatic, or simply a trace of the last body disposal, seeped into the fabric of the seats.
Imogen parks a handful of blocks away out of habit. They walk the remainder.
[Hunter] When Imogen first speaks up, Hunter is instantly awake. It doesn't matter if he was taking a nap or in the shower or anything. The sound of her voice on his phone can only mean one thing and that thing is most certainly trouble. But she says there's something he'll be interested in. It is a fine line between interest and concern. Hunter doesn't bother to make the distinction in the brief conversation. He gives her an address.
They find themselves arriving upon a warehouse bare of lawn or gate but a wire mesh fence lines part of the border-line of the property. There is a single large roller door on the front of it with a smaller normal door to the side. Both are closed and Hunter Matthews stands outside, hands in pockets and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looks alert, tense.
They find themselves outside the pack house of the Vanguard.
"What is it?" He asks, he doesn't say hello, doesn't sound cheerful or even angry. Hunter Matthews in business mode. His eyes briefly flick to Kora and he gives her a little nod in respect, she may enter his territory.
[Kora] Still below freezing, but the evening is balmy after the arctic freeze over the weekend. Ice has melted on the sidewalks, filled the storm sewers with great ponds of sullen black water that gurgle down through the clogged drains. The day's melt is already beginning to refreeze. It's dark outside, a cloud-cast night and so beyond the shadows of the dingy buildings - the squat warehouse, ringed with its mesh fence - the sky glows a malevolent sort of orange, all that light reflecting off the compacted snow reflecting back down from the cloud cover gives the horizon a sort of nuclear glow. Something on the horizon. Something terrible.
Kora stands head and shoulders taller than the slight kinswoman; against the powerful lure of Imogen's breeding, Kora's blood is silent. She has a long, confident gait, but some of the predatory sweep - that certainly about her body, the way it fits together, where gravity changes it again - is lost now. It's subtle, apparent only to someone who knows her well.
Or another predator.
Still, there's a certain freedom after the confinement of the ride, the blast of the heater, the - smell sunk into the cushions - about which she says not a word. Just keeps it in her mouth, in the back of her throat, the unfamiliar feeling of queasiness a tickle in the back of her throat.
"It's a bit more involved," says the Fenrir, a twist of her generous mouth around the words, the ambient light gleaming across the surface of her dark eyes. " - than the surroundings warrant. The doc has some maps. You have a place where we can spread out?"
[Slaughter] Imogen walks beside Kora and their gaits are sharply different. Imogen walks less like a predator and more - there is no perfect description for her. Not warrior, not dancer, not gymnast. She walks from point a to b, and only uses the precise amount of energy required for the act.
There is a grace in that economy.
She stands slighter than Kora, her hands pocketed in a nondescript corduroy jacket, her skin pale with the cold. There's no attempt at introductions or friendliness. She merely touches the satchel at her side, "Even the floor will do," a flick of her gaze indicates the Vanguard's packhouse.
[Hunter] Eyes flick between the predator and the kin as Kora speaks. Maps she says, a place to spread them out. Even the floor will do and Hunter raises an eyebrow at her, almost quirks a lip into a quasi-smile. Instead, he sucks on a tooth, chews at his lip briefly before nodding and turning towards the small door on the left of the warehouse. It opens and strangely doesn't squeak as it looks like it might. He leaves the door open for them.
Inside they see what would be expected, a flat expanse of garage with an oil stained concrete floor and an array of work benches along the back wall. It seems empty without the green glow of Cassius parked inside it. Hunters soft-tail beast of a bike looks lonely almost, leaned over on a tilt and facing the large roller door. There is a drain in the middle of the floor and dark red - turning brown - stains in the concrete around it.
To their left when they enter they see a structure within the warehouse. Plywood walls and yet another single door. It's to this door that Hunter Matthews moves.
"Shut tha' door," He comments as he's opening the next one.
Inside the living space they see a large lounge area, open plan with a kitchen along the far wall. A corridor begins far to their right and leads to what one would assume to bedrooms, a bathroom, the usual things. But Hunter stops here in the lounge where a couch is positioned on their right, facing the door with it's back to the kitchen. A large coffee table is in front of it and Hunter clears a few bottles from the top of it, carrying them over to the sink.
"Can use that." He indicates what he's talking about by nodding over his shoulder to the coffee table. "Drink? Beer? Water?" The words are thrown out with little interest, quickly, like he is getting formalities out of the way. That said, it isn't often a Gnawer offers someone a drink.
[Kora] There's no particular flicker of recognition from the Skald as they walk through the garage. She knows so little of cars that she would be hard-pressed to place Cassius within the proper decade, even with an error margin of plus or minus ten years. Hunter's motorcycle gets a longer look as they pass it; eyes steady as she moved. Kemp has a bike stored away, much smaller. She never saw him ride it; sold it for a few thousand dollars to send to the kid he'll never know.
The moment passes. Inside the living area, she starts unbuttoning her coat, unwinding her scarf, this winter ritual like a prayer to the seasons. Beneath, her clothing is casual layers - a white thermal, a gray t-shirt, a stripped blue hoodie, loose enough that she can wear it another few weeks. "Water'd be brilliant," she says, her voice low but pitched to carry - not melodic, not precisely, just modulated. "Thanks."
She sinks down onto the edge of the couch by the coffee table and waits for Hunter to return. Then begins, "So," a faint twist of her mouth. She's easy, even hear. Confident in her changing body. " - a few weeks ago, a cursed Garou posed as a realtor." A brief flaring pause. "A fucking realtor, yeah? And was showing this house in Cabrini that Drew, one of my kin, was looking to rent. The cursed one attacked her in the house, and she ran. The realtor Spiral had a whole pack secreted about. They chased her, but one of your tribe - Eve - came to Drew's aid. They killed one, but were badly wounded. Drew drove them to the church and the pack tracked her there.
"We ended them; but look - that's not a coincidence. And I've never heard of them having normal jobs. Showing houses. I asked the doc to look into it, find out who owned that house. See if there was anything there."
[Slaughter] It is not the cars or the motorcycle which draws Imogen's attention, but the dark red stains set deep into the concrete. She wonders briefly, if exposed to bleach and a blacklight, would they fluoresce.
It barely lasts a second, and she shuts the door behind her, following the other two to the plywood structure.
They can use the coffee table, which may be of a varying quality. Imogen sinks to a crouch before it, slinging the satchel from her shoulder and letting it slump beside her. She reaches in, pulling out the papers, picking up the conversation from Kora.
"I looked int' the company tha' owned the place - s'called ETA Property Management. They're a rather small company, but ha' properties throughout the city, usually in parts tha' are rather downtrodden, high crime. They also manage a few charity properties, small funded locations fer drug treatment or halfway homes. I've not found out much about them, as yet, as I've been focusing on the rentals."
She lays out several pages of printed paper, marked with highlighter. "These are where all th'properties are located. There are around ten properties in Cabrini Green, nearly twenty in Bronzeville, and three or so in the suburbs."
Each map is tapped as she indicates them, her pale finger long, the nail neatly manicured and unpainted. The finger returns to the Bronzeville map, "If yeh look here, they've got a neighbourhood that's not on their radar at all. I looked into it. Has the lowest crime rate in the community. Apparently due to community policing. But ETA has had no interest in them."
She pauses, briefly, before continuing. "There's at least one further coincidence o' taint in properties related to ETA properties, some time ago, Kora and I came across a family - the children were cannibals and the mother was killin' humans to feed them. Tha' property is owned by ETA."
A pause, a click of gears, though it is restrained on the kinwoman's face. The reaction is an abrupt stillness, then a glance in Kora's direction, then back down at the paper.
"They had pamphlets fer a church called 'End Times Assembly.' ETA - End Times Assembly. Hardly seems likely to be a coincidence." The moment of her revelation is restrained, but still, here she must pause for a moment, and gather her thoughts, and the new ones as they occur.
"I've not looked into that yet," she admits with a quiet deprecation. "Only just thought of it. Alright," she says the last word on an inhale. "I've got the names o' the officers o' the company as well, and the location of their PO Box. I'll attempt to connect them to the church as well as track down a location." She straightens, leaving the papers where they are.
"There yeh have it. So far, at least."
[Hunter] Hunter is silent while Kora speaks, all apart from the bumping of the fridge door opening and closing. He returns with a single water bottle, holds it out to her and there's a look on his face of the deepest concern.
And this is all before Imogen even begins speaking.
He doesn't have time to comment on how fucked up the thought of a realtor spiral is because Imogen is laying out maps and beginning to explain what on earth the Ahroun is looking at. At first he sees his territory, then the Fenrirs. He looks to Kora, perhaps shares in a glance and it's a sense of empathy there. It isn't just his area that they come to talk about, it affects hers as well. Has already had an impact upon her kin and her very pack-house. The thought is... unsettling.
And then there are the cannibal children.
Hunter lets out a startled "The fuck?" in the middle of it all and then goes quiet again. It isn't until the kin stops speaking that Hunter lets out a rumbling of thought that announces the finding of his tongue.
"That is some fucked up shit." He says, eyebrows raised. "I just had to get that outta' the way." He lets out a breath. "The fuck are they doin? I mean I's had some fomor trouble in the past, found some kinda' group that was kick'n peeps outta' their homes and turnin' em into some sorta' underground connection'a labs. But this... Dancers? In the fuckin' city all organised'n shit? So far from the hive?"
He blinks and looks at Kora.
"S'fucked S'all."
Eyes fall back to the map and he begins pointing out some of the locations marked within bronzeville. "You can't fuckin' think that all these.." He pauses, runs a hand over his face. "God fuckin' damnit. We got eyes on any'o'tha places? I mean sure.. officers n'shit.. head'o'tha snake n'all that.. But what about my streets in the mean time?"
[Kora] "The house where Drew was attacked looked - " a faint curl of Kora's shoulders as she leans over the map, reorienting the map of Cabrini. Her pale hair is pulled sharply back from her features, halfbraided, then twisted upon its own weight where it falls as a soft mass behind her neck.
Pale blond - the sort that looks white in the moonlight and gold beneath the sun - and fine. Impossible to curl outside of the waves that set in after it has been braided for a day and a night and a day again. Still, there's no mistaking the animal in her, not even when she looks up, reaches for the bottle of water. Not even when she smiles her thanks. Easy too, and quiet, the look. " - well, normal, on this side and that. Except for the signs of battle, which we cleaned up. We haven't had the chance to check out the rest, yet. And," here her smile twists, deepens. " - there are an awful lot of them to check out.
"Li's Hrafn keep an eye on happenings close to our territory here, but you don't want to know what sort of work it requires to keep their counterparts happy on this side of the gauntlet. This is our territory, here."
Last Watch claims a few spare blocks there, bordering the Caern, following the river. They've never taken their territory all the way to the edge even of that which the Eagles. The area she marks out on Imogen's maps is almost pitifully small, sharply jointed from the rest by the movement of her index finger over the map. " - maybe the Hrafn can get eyes on one or two of these, but not all of them.
"I'm going to send Roman to scout out the place where we killed the cursed children." A glance at Imogen, " - maybe ask Izzy if she has any intel on this stuff. Or Trent." A brief twist of her shoulders, a lift of her dark eyes toward Hunter. "My mate. He's a handyman. Fixes people's houses. Hopefully not those cursed by the Unmaker, though." She pauses, hmmm, low in the back of her throat.
[Slaughter] "I think," Imogen speaks with an even voice as she rocks back on her heels, straightening her spine to ease the tension of a brief time spent leaned forward, "that we will need to accept that though we now know tha' there is something very large brewing, that we cannot take care of it all immediately."
A beat, "Or perhaps ever."
A few strands of hair have fallen into her eyes and she turns her head briefly, sending them swaying back. This, mostly to Hunter.
"Detective Montoya can help. And maybe we can find a way t'start attackin' the company from the human side. If they're illegal enough and somehow we get it to be media worthy enough."
Her shoulders lift a little, a slight shrug, and she does not bother concluding that sentence. "Weaken the company, the holdings and the money. It will make it easier for an attack to have long term benefits." Her mouth twists slightly.
"Keep the head of the snake from growing back."
[Hunter] What they tell him does not make him happy at all. He frowns, he crosses his arms over his chest and he leans back against the wall near the side of the couch.
"My pack does assaults, get in, get out, that kind'a shit. Hard fast n'fuckin' deadly is what we do. Quiet too. I can hit these places." he states with absolute certainty. "I can hit em'all and fuckin' tear em all down. But what you're tellin' me is there's all this shit goin' on and we gotta' sit on our fuckin' hands while the human side get's hit? The fuckin' media?"
He sighs.
"I know, fuckin' don't wanna scare em into hidin' or nothin' but seriously I don't fuckin' like it." A pause long enough for an interjection if there is one. "We can snoop. I mean, I see the sense in not bangin' gongs n'breakin' down doors, but I wanna know what's going on in them properties. I'mma find out."
[Slaughter] Imogen arches an eyebrow, lifting her chin to look at him. "I do believe we're here to make an effort to work together, as both territories are impacted, as are other areas.
"Perhaps we could work on that, first, before you begin running off satisfying your curiosity."
[Kora] "We need to keep it quiet," says Kora, " - and focused. Right now, all we know is that there is something out there. We don't know if this is the body of the beast, or just its eyes on the world. Maybe these places are meant to draw us out into the open, like that dead rite trap we found in the umbra, yeah?"
There's a sharp, sweeping look she gives Hunter, upward. "It's pointless to hit every house. Keep an eye out, yeah. Scout a few - okay. But it's like looking at an iceberg. The dangerous stuff right now is all under the surface." She cuts a glance between the pair when Imogen speaks up, her features stilling. "I'm going to see what my kin can shake out. If you want to hook up with Roman for that scouting expedition, let me know. Otherwise, we'll be in touch when we have more. I hope we can expect the same."
[Hunter] Jaw tensed, that tick is there. He looks at Imogen like he wants to throw her through the wall of the lounge. He doesn't though he licks over a canine.
"Curiosity? You think it's fuckin' curiosity?" He lets out a breath, looks to Kora. "Me n'Joey'll hook up with your boy Roman, see what's what. I can have Joey ask around tha' shelters, we do work some'a tha' less fortunate kids in bronze. Maybe they heard bout somethin' if it's all in the heavy crime area's like you says. If there's fishy shit goin' on somebody gotta know somethin'."
A pause and he looks at both of them.
"Thanks for bringin' it to my attention."
[Hunter] [oh and there should be a I'll keep in touch in there]
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