[Sofie Janssen] The bus service drops her a few blocks away, leaving her to walk the rest. Hitched over her shoulders is a rucksack, weighted down to hang heavy over her jacket. A knit cap hides most of her hair, the length of it tucked into the upturned collar of her jacket, with a pale blue scarf wrapped around her neck and the bottom part of her face. A pair of jeans are faded, the hiking boots used to tromping through the slush of dirty streets by now.
A single wire threads up to one ear and disappears under the scarf, down beneath the jacket. Music pours out of the other, dangling carelessly. It leaves one ear to keep a listen out on the street as she makes her way up towards the church. As usual it's unannounced. She has a phone but rarely uses it and doesn't think she needs to with an open door policy.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek treads down the sidewalk, his gaze sliding across the scenery as he takes in the neighborhood. Blue eyes bouncing from buildings to street signs to the vagrants that huddle up for protection from the winter cold around makeshift fire pits hidden in old drum barrels. His breath rolls out in a hot steam in front of redden chapped cheeks and nose. The chill nipping at the exposed flesh that was covered by the cotton hood of his sweatshirt that was pulled down low over his head.
Gloved hands dig deep into his coat pockets, his shoulders shaking as he stomps his feet, making heavy sounds when he walks, keeping the circulation flowing through his veins. It is a short matter of time before he makes it around the corner that the old church looms overhead. He watches it with curiosity, cutting across the snow-banked lot towards the front doors*
[Kora] Last Watch claims a few square blocks of territory in the heart of Cabrini's old industrial distract; flanked by the right on one side, and the Caern to the south. Just the heart of old Eagle territory - not its furthest expanse. The core is flanked by desiccated trophy poles in the umbra. In the physical world, the specific signs of territory are few enough. They aren't urrah, adept in the language of the streets, sinking their glyphs and marks into the local graffiti. The guardians describe it clearly though; mention that the pack keeps their lands open to all who respect them.
In the near center of the territory, a few blocks away from the river, from the abandoned dockhouse the last pack to run this territory claimed sits a neo-gothic church, surrounded by a litter of trees, all overgrown. The bones of the structure are sharply visible in winter, now that the vines and trees have lost their leaves, and the structure soars - a belltower, buttresses, all the hallmarks of gothic architecture clear. Huge stained glass windows - some shattered, others intact - are set high in solid stone walls. Signs of a past fire are evident near the roof, and in places the trees and vines wind through the shattered window frames into the interior.
The whole of it is surrounded by a rusting chainlink fence, slatternly, sagging from the weight of overgrown greenery gone dormant for the season. The gate set into the chainlink is wide open, snow is cleared from the walk, the wide stone steps leading up to the portico. It's cold tonight - not bitter cold, but still winter - but it's been long enough since the last solid snowfall that the streets and sidewalks are showing through the packed snow.
"Hey Sofie - " Kora comes up behind the kinswoman as she walks. The Skald's dressed for the weather, a wool coat, a scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face that has the look of a hand-made thing. Gloves - black - cover her hands. The scent of food - something savory - rises from the white paper bags swinging from her hands. Her dark eyes are sharp on the stranger, Erek, as he rounds the corner. His blood speaks for him before anything else, and Kora's dark blue eyes fix on him and remain there, unmoving as she and Sofie approach the church.
"Know him?" - Kora asks, low-voiced before their paths intercept on the steps of the old structure.
[Sofie Janssen] Kora startles her a little. It's before she actually gets to the Kinswoman's side. Sofie had heard the rustle of bags, footsteps, and a twinge in her gut made her turn about the same time. A glance over her shoulder confirms who it is just before the voice does.
"Hey Jarl," she replies back. Beneath her own scarf there's some hint of a smile, carried in her tone. The rest of her conversation is halted, put on pause when she's asked if she knew who that man was. Now that she's paying attention, she focuses on the figure moving towards the church.
It takes her a moment, but then she smirked. "Oh yeah, that's Erek." A quick look is thrown to Kora. "I gave him the address." She hopes it's alright, and pretty confident that it is.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek isn't hard to pluck out against the background of the street, he may blend in with the shoddiness of his attire, the layers of flannel and cotton and denim that allow him to pass as any other vagrant on the street. Bits of blond hair plaster to his forehead, poking into his eyes from under the black knit cap that covers his head, pulled down low to cover his ears. His head turns up, ear twitched beneath the stretchy cotton material as he plucks up voices.
He can feel Sofie's presence, her breeding matched his own, allowing him to identify her easily. He pauses on his way to the church, steps halted as he moves his eyes to Kora and waits*
[Kora] "Hey," Kora returns, her voice quiet, her attention on the stranger; sharp even from a distance. Then, Sofie gave him the address. "Cool," returns the Skald, still quiet. There are few enough streetlamps around here, just the background glow of the city against the wintry sky. Enough to see by, even beneath a fading moon. There's no breeding in Kora; nothing to mark her to supernatural senses.
No heroes in her near past; no dead man's bone structure clear underneath her skin, no promise of future heroes from her body. Against the sheen of Sofie's breeding, the sheer blood-thrumming weight of it, it's easy to overlooking the (slightly) taller blonde, except for the level confidence apparently in the set of her narrow shoulders beneath her wool coat.
"Erek, yeah?" she says when they've drawn abreast of him a tthe base of the steps. "I'm Kora." Here, the front facade of the church looms high and gray against the orange sky. "C'mon in - " she says, indicating the structure with a tip of her pale head, the gleam of fine blond hair visible beneath the hood she's pulled up against the cold. Her breath comes out in a cloud, and she's already moving up the steps with familiar ease, the white bags solid against her thighs, the scent of something rich and savory a rich note in the cold air.
[Sofie Janssen] She walks with the Get of Fenris Jarl as though she's not something lesser. It's casual, as one might wander with a friend, heading down the road to grab something to eat. Or, in this case, coming home with some take out to eat in front of the television and talk about the day - maybe even boys.
But that's all an illusion.
Kora is a Get of Fenris, leader of the Tribe in Chicago.
Sofie is a Kinfolk from some rural town by the borders of the US, with recent heroes in her veins and a genetic make up that makes her closer to wolves than humans. Even that does not make her half of what a Garou can be.
When they came to meet up with Erek, Sofie gave him a small nod of her head and followed up towards the church, stomping boots off before she'd move to step through the door. She'd even let Erek go first.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek hears his name upon the lips of each woman, he sniffs, nose wrinkling up as he meets up with them. His eyes fixed on the kin beside Kora, glancing over her to check to see that Sofie is physically alright. Once satisfied, he turns his attention to the taller blond, ducking his head down in a brief nod to the Jarl*
Evening, Sofie, Miss Kora.
*There's a polite tone to his voice, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a boyish grin for both blond women, following them up the steps to the church's door at Kora's behest. He stomps the snow and mud from his boots the best he can, glancing over at the kin that allows him to first only after Kora has entered. He looks away, a flush of color searing across the hard planes of his cheeks and clears his throat*
I'm Erek Skúlason, Miss Kora. I've come to speak with you.
[Kora] The great wooden door swings open without the groaning protest one might expect in such a derelict space. Someone's taken care to oil the hinges silent; to repair the faults in the once-sagging old door so it swings naturally. There's a certain heft necessary to open them; but once they start moving, the swing freely.
Inside, light streams through the old stained glass windows. Some of the broken places in the roof have been covered with tarps, but there are places in that great soaring vault where the sky is visible through broken rafters and snowflakes drift in slow, spiraling eddies down toward the stone and marble floor. The edges of the sanctuary are lost in a sort of structural gloom, but a handful of scattered lanterns, half-shuttered, flickering in the draft, give a sense of the vastness of the space.
Close to the doors - beneath the relative protection of the choir-loft - is something like a living space. There are tables, chairs, pews unbolted from the floor and dragged over. A pair of huge mismatched sofas, all cast in the glow of space heaters and scattered with blankets and the like. "Sofie gave you the address, yeah?" Kora stops just before the living area, sets down her food on a big fold-out table that's scattered with a few snacks. Underneath, a pair of coolers supplement those in the living room. It's warmer here, the subtle electric glow of space heaters chases away some of the chill.
The Skald starts stripping off her gloves. "I figured as much," she returns to Erek. "Sofie, you want to unpack the food?" she says, turning back to the kinswoman. Then, to Erek, " - you want a beer?"
[Erek Skulason] *It feels like a time-lost place that Erek enters into once he crosses the threshold to step inside. His head tilts back, craned until the back of his skull could touch in-between his shoulder blades. Blue eyes skim the ceilings, take in the large cracks in the roof, where the snow drifts in, what remains of large windows that might still have the panes of painted glass in them, reflecting the images of a once holy place. He clucks his tongue against the back of his teeth, sliding it from one cheek to the other, lips purse together and letting out a low whistle that seems to echo as it caught on the wind*
No, ma'am, I'm fine.
*It is easy to see that he is young, well under the legal age to drink, despite the fact that he turned into a raging monster that can kill you. Again, his voice carries a polite tone, no disrespect given to his refusal of the Jarl's hospitality. His gaze swings down, his quick steps carrying him towards the little island of domesticity that thrives under the choir loft*
Sofie did direct me here, gave me the address. Another kin of our tribe, Ms. Roscoe confirmed the location. Your kin have been mighty kind to a stranger, despite our tribal bonds.
[Sofie Janssen] "Hey Erek," her greeting is casual and holds no sort of malice or resentment, even if they parted on bad terms last. Fenrir are like that. Hot blooded and quick to boil. Some are unforgiving. Sofie isn't one to hold a grudge unless the offense is serious enough.
Inside she had stripped off her hat and smoothed a palm over her hair. She follows through the church, and having been here a couple of times now, she's starting to know the layout well enough. Before she can venture off into the kitchen to unpack her own bag, Kora's already asking her to unpack the food she's set on the table. Nodding, wordlessly, the Kinfolk slides off her bag to sit to the side. There's a rattle of full cans inside as the rucksack is dumped on the floor.
She goes through the process of unwinding her scarf, letting it hang around her shoulders for now, and begins unpacking the hot food the Jarl has set down. It's Greek food, apparently. Sofie doesn't even recognize half of what's in the containers and peers curiously as she sets it all out, wondering what the hell they eat around here and what goes into the dishes. Can't be healthy.
[Kora] Kora breathes out, once - a subtle, substernal laugh. Most of the sound remains inside the cage of her chest, subsumed by her breath. The light's uncertain in here; the glow of the heaters, the half-shuttered lantern on the fold-out table sends sharp angles of light and shadow between them. "You've met Drew too, have you?" A subtle flare of breath, the irony a mild undercurrent. "She does seem the welcoming sort."
Erek refuses a beer. Kora casts a glance at Sofie as she sinks - a bit awkwardly at the end of her range of motion - to pull the lid from a cooler and pull out drinks. "Sofie?" she says, offering the beer. "There's soda, too." Kora tells Erek, pulling one out for herself - rootbeer in a dark brown glass bottle - and a beer for Sofie if she wants one. Then she straightens, setting the drinks alongside on the table, looking back at Erek.
"Let's do this formally, yeah? I'm Kora Eyjólfsdóttir," she pronounces the patronymic with precise accent that shades away Icelandic, but has more in common with that language than anything from the mainland. "she who offers sorrow, renders bone, Fostern Skald of Fenris, alpha of Last Watch. Jarl here in Chicago. I fostered at the Sept auf Vinder und Ringing in Hjaltland before I came back to the states, and followed Kemp Truth-in-Frenzy until he died in battle."
The Greek food laid out on the table is enough to feed an army. There's lamb, chicken, rice, pitas, a container of moussaka and another full of grape leaves stuffed with rice and meat. The scent makes her mouth water, but she doesn't dive for the food, not yet. There's business to attend to.
[Sofie Janssen] The beer is offered and she throws a glance over. "Yeah, sure. I'll have one." She finishes setting down another container, then reaches out to take the beer bottle from Kora. "Thanks." It's set on the table, leaving her hands free to unbutton her jacket and take it off. Tossing it over a pew, she leaves it out of direct line with one of those space heaters to prevent accidental fires.
While Garou chat, she scoops up the shoulder strap of her rucksack and says something about; "Got some things for the kitchen," lowly, before making her way deeper into the church towards the large kitchen. That's where the little impromptu party had been last time and a few quips had turned into potential violence. Kora's probably heard about it by now. It's all settled anyway.
She'll be gone for a little bit, stacking away some cans and food.
[Erek Skulason] *His eyes seem to dance between the two women, some of his focus straying to the kinfolk as she unwound the outer layers of her winter clothes free. He blinks, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he realizes what he is doing, and looks away suddenly. He finds a place to sit, falling back into one of the old benches that hadn't been covered with snow and stretches out his legs. His hands remain in his coat pockets. He smirks a little at the mention of Drew, nodding*
I've meet Ms. Roscoe and Fire Claws-yuf and his young ward, Gwen. Just spoke with the wolf as of last night at the caern before coming here to meet with you.
*A muscle ticks in his jaw as he forces himself to not watch the kin leave, blue eyes remained on Kora as she gets the introductions out of the way. He rubs his back against the high seat back of the bench to ease an itch under his clothes that he could quite reach and waits until the Jarl as finished. He whistles low, the sound echoing with a faint echo just before he clears his throat to speak*
Erek Skúlason, Spinebreaker to his enemies, a cliath no moon born of the Get of Fenris, nephew to the Skvaldír - Skúli Eriksson "Gutsaw", adren skald, grandson of Thorsteinn~Skull-splitter, died an Athro Modi doing what he loved best, and Brigid "Sif’s~Virtue" Telleny, an elder whom I share moon with, also gone to the mead halls of Valhalla.
*As he spoke, a gloved hand frees itself from his pocket, swipes aside the knit cap to comb through the shaggy short blond hair that lays flat on his head. It is easy to see with the pureness of his ancestry that he wears a dead hero's face, carries the cunning of a celebrated no moon and carried the virility of his modi grandfather*
I come form the Sept of Blackrock up in the forests of Wisconsin, it's rural and small, hugging the coastline of the Great Lakes. M'uncle Skúli took me there when he found me just after m'change, Miss Kora.
[Kora] Kora's still wrapped in her winter things, standing at the edge of the table where the foot has been unpacked, one hand carelessly left around the neck of her bottle of soda. Her dark eyes flicker to the young Rotagar, and remain there. The look she gives him is direct and clear; she's a watchful creature, but one with an easy curve to her mouth - even when expression has filtered away and left it at its most neutral. Like now. Just once she glance up; as Sofie disappears into the kitchen to put away the things she brought for the pack. Then she turns back to Erek, the neutral curve of her mouth deepening into slow smile as he begins to recite the names of his ancestors.
Something about the fastness of her attention, the way she nods after each name and deed, tells him that she's listening, perhaps memorizing those names as he spells them out. Gutsaw and Skullsplitter, Sif's Virtue.
"Well met, Spinebreaker," returns Sorrow, her voice carrying a certain inherent resonance amplified by the vast spaces of the sanctuary. With introductions finished, she begins peeling off her layers of winter clothing. The scarf is unwound, gloves tugged off with her teeth and stuffed into the pockets of her coat before she takes that off too, tossing it aside. Underneath, she's wearing ordinary clothing - worn black boots, a dark gray t-shirt and white thermal underneath a half-zipped hoodie. She's pregnant - the zip of the hoodie distends over the firm curve of her stomach. It's not burdensome, yet, but it's obvious once she's out of her winter things.
"What brings you to Chicago, then?" she continues, grabbing a container of lamb and grape leaves, snagging her root beer between her index and forefinger and circling to pick a place on one of the old couches. "Are you passing through?" A flicker of a look, sizing him up, taking in the details of his expression and demeanor underneath the promise of heroes obvious in his blood and bones. " - or here to stay?"
There's a sharpness at the end of the question; that attentiveness that makes her dark gaze feel all the more direct.
[Erek Skulason] What brings me here, Miss Kora?
*Erek has been asked this question before, just yestereve when he sat on the pier overlooking the docks in the caern, speaking with a wolf named Fire Claws. He clears his throat, hand forming a fist covers his mouth as he coughs into it. The strong features of his face reddening by the cold. Her study of him will tell her that the young Get of Fenris may be a bit open with himself, perhaps, inexperienced. Of course, this openness he carries with his expressions could also be a trickster's ruse, a way to gain trust with those he speaks with*
Looking for the good fight, sent away by m'mentor, Skúli, to make it out on m'own. Fire Claws-yuf explained the caern to me, how its one of sacrifice, which I've never encountered before. So, I ain't exactly what to do in that regards, Miss Kora. Sacrifice is a big thing, it's important, when I find it. I wager I'll give it to the Maelstrom if it accepts me. I'd like to stay, to find a place to settle and grow, to make a name for myself. But for now, I'm just a lone wolf visiting your fair city.
[Sofie Janssen] It's a short affair with the kitchen. Everything is packed away, and her rucksack comes back mostly empty. She's taken off that music player she had strapped to her clothes and stowed it into the pack's pocket. The simple sweater, with it's v-neck shows a t.shirt worn beneath and possible layers under that. She's warm enough inside, even if the heating in the church doesn't extent anywhere but a couple of feet from where the space heaters are positioned.
She returns to where the others are, setting her pack down with her jacket and scarf. Without interrupting them, she picks up her beer and finds herself a seat by herself. She doesn't crowd in on either of them, kicking back and opening her beer. Legal drinking ages don't apply here and Sofie could possibly be old enough anyway. Chances are she'd get carded. She's on that threshold of where it's hard to tell the young womans age.
Sitting with them, she finds herself watching Erek more then she does Kora. But she doesn't stare at him either. Her attention drifts anytime the Jarl speaks up, and even eyes the other womans food, just not in a way that makes her look hungry.
[Kora] "Except for a few vistas," she returns, the wry twist of her mouth evident as the gleam in her dark eyes. "I think you'll find it too often less than fair. Still, it's a good place to find a fight; a good place to make roots if you can stomach the city. That Caern was raised by Fenrir - and others, but Fenrir were in the first ranks - and Fenrir have sacrificed themselves for Maelstrom ever since."
She has settled on the couch, popped open her container of food, and tucked one long leg underneath her frame. Her long, pale hair has fallen half-way loose of its haphazard moorings, and carries a hint of static electricity from the movement of the hood over the crown of her head. Kora's clearly older than both of them; was probably older than the two of them when her first change came. Adolescence was passed by without the complication of rage - sex, all of it - which leaves her rather more level-headed, more settled than most of their kind.
"You're welcome to stay here. Hunt with us. Learn the territory and the land. My pack follows a Fenrir totem - Hermodr, Baldr's son, the Eddas say. Before we claimed this land, the Eagles did. It's been in Fenrir hands since the Caern was raised."
[Erek Skulason] *Erek tries to be careful in the wander of his eyes, a glance to Sofie when she reappears, blue gaze passing over hers to meet it briefly and then not allowed to stray beyond that. His nostrils flare out, his breath expelled in a soft snort as he clears his lungs of air. He wiggles on the bench again, straightening his shoulders and puffing up just a bit to make himself look a little bigger. The corners of his mouth light up his boyish features as his face splits from the wide grin he offers the Jarl*
Your offer is most generous, Miss Kora.
*Erek starts to say, scooting to the edge of the bench as he draws his legs closer to his body, bracing feet apart as if he was getting ready to stand up*
Fire Claws has expressed a desire to seek out a pack, ain't sure how fortuitous it'd be for you to recruit a fella like him. May be something to look into as well. I'll keep your offer in mind, ain't got nothing to offer up to a totem just get, but it'd be nice to run with folks.
[Sofie Janssen] "I've heard of Truth in Frenzy, not much, and Silence," Sofie says out of the blue. "Where they both here to raise the Caern, or was that before their time, too?" Taking a swig from her beer, she looked away from Erek over to Kora, curious about the city's Tribal past and not knowing much about it. She's heard some songs around a fire, some tales to go with it, and names that have such glory stuck to them in these modern times that they happen to stick. Those two mentioned Garou had rank enough to reach that mark. Chicago isn't far from where she was raised. Word had travel there, at least.
[Kora] "I made him the same offer, Erek," the Skald says. Her voice is low, a certain richness to the tone. She's familiar enough with the acoustics of the church that it does not echo now. The cold crowds in from all around them, but within the circle of warmth created by the space heaters, things are warm enough. "I haven't seen him in a moon or more," she continues, a sharp-eyed look at Erek. "Not even when I buried his once-Alpha, Night's Reprieve. Still, that offer's open to him. Wolves aren't meant to run alone, and a pack's meant to be more than a couple of Garou, I think.
"My brother's a Godi; our other packmate's a Child of Gaia, no-moon named Roman. We had an Ahroun, but she's - " a subtle thinning of her mouth around the thought of it. "Gone. Didn't stay. Pack's important to me, though - and it's not an offer I make lightly."
Kora lifts her chin, then, casting a glance over at Sofie. The faint curve of her mouth deepens. "Silence found Truth-in-Frenzy," the story has the familiarity of gossip, " - behind a dumpster in an alley back in New Jersey. Scented the pure breed under his skin and scared him into his first change when he was fourteen or fifteen years old. They were packed together after Truth-in-Frenzy passed his rite of passage, and come to Chicago with the rest of their pack. And Doctor Slaughter, too. They both fought together in the Caern raising, with the rest of the city's packs."
There's a brief, thoughtful pause here.
" - long gone, the lot of them, except the Guardians and the lot." Her attention swings between Erek and Sofie as she tells the story, then sharpens on the kinswoman again. "There were kin who fought that battle with them, too. Fenrir kin, mostly - but some others. A kinswoman named Lexi, and another named Mina. They're both buried in the graves of the heroes, now."
[Sofie Janssen] The mention of Fire Claws not attending his Alpha's burial leaves a bad taste in her mouth. It sours her expression until she washes it away with a longer swig of beer from the bottle in her hand. She doesn't talk ill of it, she doesn't need to, not with the way the Kinfolk wears what she thinks on her sleeve like that.
But the attention drifts back to her question, and she's soon enough flashing teeth in a quick, snarl-like grin, at the idea of a Fenrir scaring another into their change. She doesn't have a clue how that would scar on the psyche of a cub, and doesn't seem like pauses to think on sympathy either. Instead she finds it something to grin about.
That slides into surprise and sharpens her interest when Kora mentions that Kinfolk have been buried in the Caern here too. She didn't think that they would do that in the cities, but instead of commenting on it, she finds herself asking something else instead. "You think that you might need Kinfolk for something similar sometime?" Meaning, Sofie would love the chance to end up one of those honoured names. She knows this is unlikely. But possibilities can mean everything to a Kinfolk that's probably going to end up pregnant most of the time and passing on teachings to young ones, not running around shooting things down like imitations of their cousins.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek is quiet now, he is listening to Kora and to Sofie. The names are vague, ones he has not encountered before, if he's heard the stories at all. The past heroes aren't the reason he has come here, but he has explained himself already. The young Get of Fenris leans back into the bench once more, slouching now as he grows more relaxed in the presence of the two ladies.
That relaxation doesn't last long as Kora corrects Erek, informs him of her attempts to bring Fire Claws into her fold and under her banner. He pokes his tongue into the left side of his cheek, arching eyebrows up suddenly as she hits home the seriousness of her offer to join. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, reddening, chapped nostrils flaring briefly*
Perhaps then, Jarl, I'll put in the extra effort to tickle the wolf's ear a bit more and persuade him the benefit of running with his brothers, with his own family. As you say, it ain't good for him, nor does two count as a pack. I'm sure his business with training his young ward, won't affect his decision if I applied a gentle tongue to my request?
*Erek goes quiet again as Kora continues to tell the of the stories of those before him and Sofie. His expression is one of interest, attention caught up until she is done, only then does he turn to focus on Sofie. The corners of his eyebrows knit together as he frowns to himself*
[Linus] The air seems to condense suddenly. Quietly, but with a presence. Space expands where once no volume existed and the physical is made more full by the sudden arrival of the lanky Godi crashing through the gauntlet with an ease that suggests an attack on the barricade between worlds rather than a seamless passage.
He trails smoke, the singed hemline and outskirts of his black half-coat and dark green cargos suggestive of Fire. Lots of it. He's slapping at a few sparks that have followed him across, murmuring softly beneath his breath and the toque adorning his head which he pulls a little further down to just over his brow. The scruff of stubble is dark and growing, several weeks in now and suggesting a possible beard (in another month or two maybe).
He plucks the once-gloves-now-tatters off his hands and tosses the remains onto a nearby pew, grunting with the effort before reaching up to rub at his neck, head rolling around tiredly. The dark circles under his eyes are not as prominent as they were before but there is a waning there. Chicago's umbra was a dark and messy place.
A flickering glance is cast at the gathered number, including the newcomer as he steps down the aisle between pews on his way to the couch section, nose lifting to sniff loudly.
"Beer 'n Baklava..." Is his greeting, eying the cooler with avarice.
[Kora] There's a certain - composure about Kora - a quiet one. A maturity that is not a matter of rank - though she has earned that now - as it is of age. Twenty-something. She had an almost ordinary life once; she traveled as Erek is doing now, without the pressures of the war. Kora casts a moving glance back to Sofie, pauses long enough to swallow a mouthful of grape leaf and wash it back with a swallow of root beer. She holds the bottle between her fore and middle the fingers, balanced by her thumb, the way she once might've held a beer bottle.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Sofie," Kora says, low-voiced, lifting that bottle in a faint, lingering toast. "I hope it doesn't come to that again, at least, not until Ragnarok comes. The city's Garou had another Caern before that; it was poisoned by the unmaker, infected and dying. They'd ended it rather than let the unmaker take it. The fetish that lead them to Maelstrom, deep in slumber, was their last hope." She finishes that with a sharp exhale, her nostrils flaring with the breath. " - which isn't to say we don't need, you here. It's even more important, a place like this. There are so many things we can't do for ourselves. So many places you can go that're closed to us."
Then she looks back to Erek; her mouth curves into a faint, twisting smile. "I imagine the city's confusing; off-putting to a feral born. Maybe he just needs a rotagar to remind him of what he knows deep inside. Wolves aren't meant to run alone. I've no objection to that. And Li's taken on some of Gwen's training, too. Speaking of - "
When the Godi appears, Kora dips her head in his direction. "Li, this is Erek. New blood. Erek, this is Linus - my brother and packmate."
[Erek Skulason] *In an agile bound, Erek stands up the moment Kora passes introductions between him and Linus. He dips his head in a quick nod to Kora's brother and packmate. Blue eyes skidding up and down to take the other in with a curious glance, before he is swinging his eyes back to Sofie first to see her reaction to Kora's words, and then to Kora - herself*
I'll do my best, Miss Kora.
[Sofie Janssen] Linus comes in from the Umbra, in other words, he appears out of thin air instead of using a door, which startles the Kinfolk who had felt the sudden, stumbling presence like a sudden punch to her solar plexus. She's short of letting out some sort of expletive, swallowing it down, and forcing her tensed muscles to relax.
Her attention swings from the brother back to the sister, and Sofie is not really disappointed, she's nodding instead and understanding where Kora comes from. "Yeah, I get that," she tells the Jarl, "I hope it doesn't come to it too, you know?" There's a long pause after that, as if she's rethinking about what she was going to add to that...
... and then decides not to say anything altogether as introductions go back around. She drinks from her beer instead. Her light blues settled on Erek a moment, giving a look back. The girl is not shy on eye contact.
[Linus] "Fuccckkkin' lil' spitfire that Gwen. Keep's remindin' me of Grudge~Cracker down south. Choke a Thunderwyrm just to get directions to the nearest hive..." He snorts most of it out, wiping beneath his nose with a bare and chill paled hand. The moment Erek is standing Linus is sitting, nodding at the Rotagar in turn before shifting his attention to Sofie nearby and offering a flash of a smile that is a tad skewed by the soot and bits of ash clinging to his quasi-beard, cheeks and face.
"Mind tossing me a Beer, please?"
And around on Kora with a casual stare that is at once poignant as it is...well, one sibling to another.
"Hrafn just reported in. No sign of anything around the turf, we're pretty clean 'cept for a few things skirting the edges. Couple of Wyrmhound packs came sniffing around but didn't stay too long. Weaver's kind of thick on the Southern edge toward the Mile though...might be worth keeping an eye on and I'm hearing buzz..." A frown. Vague but present. "...Bunch of Wyrm whispers been chattering about some 'Wolves asking favours'. Nothing localized just...Might be rumours..."
And then back to Erek again with a sharp clearing of the throat.
"Bone~Writer, Cliath, Godi to Fenris..."
[Erek Skulason] *Erek's expression becomes perplexed every time he looks in Sofie's direction, meeting her gaze and then promptly dropping his, eyebrows furrowing as if he wants to say something to her, but now wasn't the time to do it. Not when they stood before the Jarl and her brother. He shuffles his weight, rolling back and forth on the balls and heels of his feet, using the slow momentum to keep the blood circulating through his legs*
Spinebreaker, cliath, no moon. *A shorter version of introductions tossed between him and Linus as one sits as the other stands. He inclines his head again to the brother of the Jarl, head tilting to the side. He brings a hand up, running fingers under his jaw to scratch at the blond patch of hair growth that tries to fashion a beard, but fails to do so*
Dealt with a skirmish a couple days ago, caused a diversion for a huge Mechanical tarantula whilst some other Garou I was with used the webbing to free some wyrm nastiness that had been caught in it. It made the weaver and wyrm fight each other and helped to clean up the area as they destroyed each other.
[Sofie Janssen] Hitching her brows at Linus request doesn't stop her from getting up from where she's sitting to grab him out a beer from the cooler she saw Kora grab hers from. Rather ironic, really. With a beer in hand, she walks over to hand it to Linus rather then toss it.
"What have you been doing?" She asks of him, glancing over the soot on his face and in the hair he's growing there. Her curious is evident, as is the mirth that lies beneath the corners of her mouth. It doesn't really reach her eyes all that much, at least not right then. "You look like a chimney sweep."
[Kora] "There's moussaka if you want it," Kora tells Linus, a nod back toward the table after Linus has asked Sofie to get him a beer. "And Sofie restocked the kitchen for us, so you'll be able to eat those cans of Vienna sausages to your heart's content." There's a certain curl to her half-smile there, familiar, bemused affection - the old desire to torment - all twisted together in that expression. Her dark eyes linger briefly on her brother, and the half-smile smooths away as she hears his report on the umbral reflection of the pack's territory.
"Hmmm." She makes that low sound for Erek's story, listening carefully, then swings a lingering glance back at her brother. Taking in his reports of the rumors his Hrafn had gleamed from the city's spiritual reflection. "The doc traced the owners of the house where Drew was attacked," Kora returns to Linus, a glance back at Erek, including him in the conversation. "I've got maps of their other properties. None in our territory, but there are a few in the neighborhood."
A brief pause, a certain twist of her mouth. "They own an apartment building where the doc and I put down some cursed humans last year. A whole family, twisted by the enemy." She twists her narrow shoulders. " - she thinks they might have some association with a church. She's gonna see what she can find." Then, a tip of her head toward the Rotagar. "I offered Erek here our hospitality. Let him run with us, see if he fits."
[Erek Skulason] *Erek hides his surprise when the Jarl decides to include him in the conversation. His eyebrows furrow deeply as the corners of his mouth pull downward when he hears the nature of the incidents happening. His arms lift, folding across his chest tightly, tucking hands under his arms to rest palms flat along his ribcage. He braces his feet apart to steady his stance; blue eyes locked to Kora mostly as she speaks*
[Kora] Then, with a subtle huff of laughter - Kora nods her pale head at Linus. "She's right. You look like a chimney sweep. Or a fire fighter. One of those smoke jumpers, yeah?"
[Linus] "Well!"
And he claps his thighs, which raises a small plume of ash before reaching to take up his beer. He grins up at Sofie, brushing knuckles over his jacket lapels.
"Found a House fire. Wanted to harvest a friend or two. Went in all fists and jabs and attitude- Pow!" He fakes a few punches, legs coming down to plant his sneaker clad feet. "Fuckers thought they had me and I just...ya know..." Shrugging, cool and calm and slick for the occasion, leaning back into his chair "...stayed cool and locked the deal down." It only occurs to him briefly that spiritual exploits might not be so translatable to Kin, which has him narrowing his eyes slightly and re-trying a moment later.
"Went fist to toe with a Five alarm fire and won. Go me."
And then 'round toward Kora again.
"Might well be those same spiral fucks looking to make things difficult. I'm going to have to have a talk with some more eyes and try to double up the Hrafn detail but if this Fire Deal I've got going and one or two other things comes through, I should be able to make this place a Dragon's maw for any spiritual trespassers by week's end..."
A pause. Then: "...Might be worth checking out though-" And an eye cast at the Rotagar, flicking up and down. "Maybe put the newblood on an in and out. Better than us charging in and scaring off anyone there..."
A bounce of brows at Kora.
[Sofie Janssen] Not yet returning to her seat, she's standing a few feet from Linus as he tells his story. Her attention is focused solely on him in that moment and she finds her mouth creeping more and more towards a grin, and a light begins to form in her gaze. He leaves her chuckling, especially when he puts it in easy-Kinfolk terms.
"Go you," she agreed.
Then began back towards where she had been sitting on a sofa. "You still need a scrub behind the ears." The Kinfolk grins and plants herself back down on the cushions, crossing her legs at her ankles rather then over at the thigh.
[Linus] He grins at Sofie.
"...I'd make a slick as a black man joke but it'd be wasted on all you Aryans..." He snorts and slaps some more soot off his shoulder.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek's mood lightens with Linus' story, his nose twitching, watching the Godi with a flick of an eyebrow. It makes him smirk when there's a suggestion to put the no moon through his paces, and then snorts, rolling his eyes*
We all can't be as darkly beautiful and sooty as you, Linus.
[Kora] "She's got you, there - " echoes Kora, which a flash of a half-swallowed smile that represents one of those when Linus was a baby and mom took pictures of his naked ass in the tub stories she has chosen not to tell. The best thing about being the oldest is that you can destroy all similar pictures of yourself before your siblings know they existed. And live, safe in the knowledge that future significant others will never see you subjected to the indignities of the Baby New Year outfit for "just one more year."
Then she sobers, nodding time time to his report. "Keep me posted, yeah? I'm going to see if Izzy has any more information; hopefully I'll get together with the doc later in the week. I was gonna send in Roman," a flash of a look back to Erek. " - but getting eyes on a couple of places would be wise. So we might have something for you to do in the next bit, Rotagar. Before you go, I'll write down my number for you."
Then she glances back down the sanctuary, toward the door leading to the kitchen, the old sunday school classrooms repurposed as dens and the like. "Course, you're welcome to stay. There's room. And," a tip of her head in Sofie's direction. "Food, too."
[Sofie Janssen] Linus is right. The joke is wasted on the pale blonde with pale eyes, and feral, Fenrir breeding out of her backside.
Looking back and forth between the two Get of Fenris males, Sofie finds herself drinking slowly from her beer and casting a glance over to Kora. When she lowers the beer to rest on her thigh, she's holding back a smirk or grin, or something like it. "I don't know about where you come from, Jarl, but I have never seen so many pretty Fenrirs in my life. What is this place? Magnet for all the attractive folk?"
"The natives to Chicago sure must be an ugly bunch, trying to bring in some new stock." Highly amused, the young woman goes back to looking at the men again. For all her comments she's actually not flirting. There's not a single wave of hormones coming off her, and she's not really ogling them either. When Sofie looks at someone, it's almost always eye contact or at least searching their face.
[Erek Skulason] Afraid to break it to you, Sofie, I ain't no where as pretty as Sooty over there.
*Erek chuckles at the kin's comment, his head shaking just a little. He runs a hand over his hair again, replacing the knit cap that he'd taking off and slamming it back down over his ears.*
I'll take the number, not very hungry at the moment, but I do have an appointment to keep to meet with a friend. I'll be sure to swing back by to take you up on the hospitality, however.
[Linus] "Damn right you ain't." To the Rotagar. "Mama called me 'Handsome' 'til I started bringing girls home. Then I was a 'Shit disturber that shoulda had a daddy 'round to belt me more when I was young'. Good ole Mom." He cracks another grin and hefts his unopened beer.
Kora's 'Baby Pictures!' tone receives a flash of 'I will wait for your good death and bind your spirit to my boot heel' sort of stares from Linus before she's offering orders and he's nodding in response. It isn't until she mentions Izzy and Roman that Linus' features suddenly slacken briefly and then grow a tad more serious. He rights himself and finally goes about opening his beer, flipping the cap onto the table nearby and settling into the chair comfortably to stare at the Jarl.
"Reminds me. She came 'round last night. Roman 'n I were here 'n got to talking. She told me 'bout some Maggot things that came out of an alley. She got bit. Checked her over 'n Roman and I got her to show us the alley. Was clean to, so that's covered." A beat. "They...told me 'bout this jackass that came through here before. Fuck up named Remy putting orders in the air and shittin' insults at Roman like he owned the place."
His jaw skews slightly. Unaligned and unamused.
"Didn't have his name or anything so I figured you might know more..."
[Sofie Janssen] Shrugging at Erek, she didn't say anything on that. It was a matter of opinion and Sofie had put him into the same category. The Get of Fenris is leaving and she looks him over briefly, wondering where he's running off to that he has to say friend and skipping out on beers with his Tribe. It's not her business and Linus distracts her with talk about maggots, followed by Remy.
She winces a little and takes a drinker deep of beer. Her gaze darts to Kora, wondering if the Jarl has already heard. Sofie had been right in the heart of that little problem. Maybe Roman hadn't passed that bit on to Linus or his Alpha.
[Kora] "You started bringing girls home - ?" the question is tossed off with a low laugh for Sofie's question about the pretty Fenrir. It's not an adjective that could be assigned to her, not precisely. There's too much wolf in her; too much animal under the surface, evident now in the way her attention swings to Erek briefly, focuses, then returns to her brother. The Rotagar will have her number before he leaves, without question.
Her expression tightens. "He's a Godi, no deedname yet. Just a cubname he doesn't want to use any more." Her attention flashes back to Sofie. Her voice is quiet. "I heard that you and he had words."
[Linus] "S'fuckin' Godi?! With no fuckin' Name, shootin' his mouth off in-..."
And he's standing. Linus is a good liar. Embellisher, he'd call it but he's also honest about his wants, needs and opinions. They write themselves on his face and that is made only more evident by the sneer of disgust that sends him pacing off to one side for Sofie's reiteration of events to Kora's question.
[Erek Skulason] *The shift in conversation didn't involve him, it held his attention long enough to pick up the details on what to look out for with this Remy they speak of. He unfolds his arms, meeting Kora's eyes when she looks at him. He only gives her a small shrug of his shoulders, his arms dropping to his sides as he steps away from the bench he sat up and make his way towards the Jarl. He fishes out a scrap piece of a paper and something to write with, an indication for Kora to leave him her digits. Once the act was done, he folds the piece of paper up and makes his excuses to leave*
[Sofie Janssen] Damn.
"Yeah," she clears her throat and sits straighter. The beer is rested on her thigh with her fingers wrapped around the bottle, mid way. "I said something to him and Drew that neither of them liked. It was out of line, and I apologized. He just wanted to set things straight."
"Got into my face, that sort of thing. Then Roman jumped into it, and Remy wouldn't listen. Claiming the fact that I'm Fenrir Kin, which .. well, he's right, but this is Roman's territory, which is what I had said in the start - well, in a round about way." Sofie doesn't seem too keen on spilling out the exact details here, not wanting to blow the situation out of proportion. "And once it was settled, he backed off."
"For the record. I still think he was wrong, on both counts. But I didn't say it to him. I didn't want to cause no more trouble for Roman or disrespect your territory anymore then I had. Even if I was defending it." Her gaze had been flickering between the siblings, back and forth. "Wasn't my place to, and that's why I apologized. Not for what I said."
[Kora] Kora's dark eyes trace their way across Sofie's features as the kinswoman offers her story. She listens, still, watchful, feeling the reluctance as much as she sees it refusing to push on it. When the kinswoman finishes with her opinion about Remy's claims, the still, quiet expression on the Skald's face shifts. She gives a moving half-smile at the end, this faint nod of her find pale head by way of thanks.
"He's a hothead," Kora tells Linus. "They called his prettyboy as his cub name. He's itching for someone to repeat it so he can extract payment for the memory in blood. Drew might know more about him, though. I've seen them together a few times."
[snail] [*dies* i have good timing]
[Sofie Janssen] [felt your ears burning!]
[Kora] (I need to sleep soon, guys, so I'll be bowing out shortly!)
to Linus, snail, Sofie Janssen
[Linus] "...Yeah?"
A sharpness to that tone. Eaten by a loud sniff and wipe of hand beneath the nostrils. He takes a quick sip off the beer and wipes his lips next with the same hand.
"Then she can have him. Fuck ain't killed enough wyrm, talked enough spirit or shit enough Gaia to earn himself Worth, ain't no reason for him to be in or on this Territory, dealing insults and thinking that's what makes him Fenrir."
(I'll be headin' out myself to be honest. Having trouble concentrating.)
[Sofie Janssen] [can leave it there guys. Sofie will stay, finish her beer and wander off again.]
[Kora] "The territory's open to the tribe, Linus. And the Sept, until I've got reason to close it. Heated words and insults you heard," a flash of a glance at Sofie, dark eyes above a curving mouth. "Second hand notwithstanding. Understand?
"Now, hey - " she lifts her chin toward the table where the meal's unpacked. "Have some baklava, yeah? Before Roman gets back and drowns in it.."
[Linus] "...And might as well be permission to come in and do it all again. Godi ain't a Modi ain't a fuckin' idiot..."
A clap of hands, more soot and ash and that sneer again.
"...Keep it. I ain't hungry. Got work to do." And he's turning with a fist slapping out at open air, already reaching for other worlds.
A single wire threads up to one ear and disappears under the scarf, down beneath the jacket. Music pours out of the other, dangling carelessly. It leaves one ear to keep a listen out on the street as she makes her way up towards the church. As usual it's unannounced. She has a phone but rarely uses it and doesn't think she needs to with an open door policy.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek treads down the sidewalk, his gaze sliding across the scenery as he takes in the neighborhood. Blue eyes bouncing from buildings to street signs to the vagrants that huddle up for protection from the winter cold around makeshift fire pits hidden in old drum barrels. His breath rolls out in a hot steam in front of redden chapped cheeks and nose. The chill nipping at the exposed flesh that was covered by the cotton hood of his sweatshirt that was pulled down low over his head.
Gloved hands dig deep into his coat pockets, his shoulders shaking as he stomps his feet, making heavy sounds when he walks, keeping the circulation flowing through his veins. It is a short matter of time before he makes it around the corner that the old church looms overhead. He watches it with curiosity, cutting across the snow-banked lot towards the front doors*
[Kora] Last Watch claims a few square blocks of territory in the heart of Cabrini's old industrial distract; flanked by the right on one side, and the Caern to the south. Just the heart of old Eagle territory - not its furthest expanse. The core is flanked by desiccated trophy poles in the umbra. In the physical world, the specific signs of territory are few enough. They aren't urrah, adept in the language of the streets, sinking their glyphs and marks into the local graffiti. The guardians describe it clearly though; mention that the pack keeps their lands open to all who respect them.
In the near center of the territory, a few blocks away from the river, from the abandoned dockhouse the last pack to run this territory claimed sits a neo-gothic church, surrounded by a litter of trees, all overgrown. The bones of the structure are sharply visible in winter, now that the vines and trees have lost their leaves, and the structure soars - a belltower, buttresses, all the hallmarks of gothic architecture clear. Huge stained glass windows - some shattered, others intact - are set high in solid stone walls. Signs of a past fire are evident near the roof, and in places the trees and vines wind through the shattered window frames into the interior.
The whole of it is surrounded by a rusting chainlink fence, slatternly, sagging from the weight of overgrown greenery gone dormant for the season. The gate set into the chainlink is wide open, snow is cleared from the walk, the wide stone steps leading up to the portico. It's cold tonight - not bitter cold, but still winter - but it's been long enough since the last solid snowfall that the streets and sidewalks are showing through the packed snow.
"Hey Sofie - " Kora comes up behind the kinswoman as she walks. The Skald's dressed for the weather, a wool coat, a scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face that has the look of a hand-made thing. Gloves - black - cover her hands. The scent of food - something savory - rises from the white paper bags swinging from her hands. Her dark eyes are sharp on the stranger, Erek, as he rounds the corner. His blood speaks for him before anything else, and Kora's dark blue eyes fix on him and remain there, unmoving as she and Sofie approach the church.
"Know him?" - Kora asks, low-voiced before their paths intercept on the steps of the old structure.
[Sofie Janssen] Kora startles her a little. It's before she actually gets to the Kinswoman's side. Sofie had heard the rustle of bags, footsteps, and a twinge in her gut made her turn about the same time. A glance over her shoulder confirms who it is just before the voice does.
"Hey Jarl," she replies back. Beneath her own scarf there's some hint of a smile, carried in her tone. The rest of her conversation is halted, put on pause when she's asked if she knew who that man was. Now that she's paying attention, she focuses on the figure moving towards the church.
It takes her a moment, but then she smirked. "Oh yeah, that's Erek." A quick look is thrown to Kora. "I gave him the address." She hopes it's alright, and pretty confident that it is.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek isn't hard to pluck out against the background of the street, he may blend in with the shoddiness of his attire, the layers of flannel and cotton and denim that allow him to pass as any other vagrant on the street. Bits of blond hair plaster to his forehead, poking into his eyes from under the black knit cap that covers his head, pulled down low to cover his ears. His head turns up, ear twitched beneath the stretchy cotton material as he plucks up voices.
He can feel Sofie's presence, her breeding matched his own, allowing him to identify her easily. He pauses on his way to the church, steps halted as he moves his eyes to Kora and waits*
[Kora] "Hey," Kora returns, her voice quiet, her attention on the stranger; sharp even from a distance. Then, Sofie gave him the address. "Cool," returns the Skald, still quiet. There are few enough streetlamps around here, just the background glow of the city against the wintry sky. Enough to see by, even beneath a fading moon. There's no breeding in Kora; nothing to mark her to supernatural senses.
No heroes in her near past; no dead man's bone structure clear underneath her skin, no promise of future heroes from her body. Against the sheen of Sofie's breeding, the sheer blood-thrumming weight of it, it's easy to overlooking the (slightly) taller blonde, except for the level confidence apparently in the set of her narrow shoulders beneath her wool coat.
"Erek, yeah?" she says when they've drawn abreast of him a tthe base of the steps. "I'm Kora." Here, the front facade of the church looms high and gray against the orange sky. "C'mon in - " she says, indicating the structure with a tip of her pale head, the gleam of fine blond hair visible beneath the hood she's pulled up against the cold. Her breath comes out in a cloud, and she's already moving up the steps with familiar ease, the white bags solid against her thighs, the scent of something rich and savory a rich note in the cold air.
[Sofie Janssen] She walks with the Get of Fenris Jarl as though she's not something lesser. It's casual, as one might wander with a friend, heading down the road to grab something to eat. Or, in this case, coming home with some take out to eat in front of the television and talk about the day - maybe even boys.
But that's all an illusion.
Kora is a Get of Fenris, leader of the Tribe in Chicago.
Sofie is a Kinfolk from some rural town by the borders of the US, with recent heroes in her veins and a genetic make up that makes her closer to wolves than humans. Even that does not make her half of what a Garou can be.
When they came to meet up with Erek, Sofie gave him a small nod of her head and followed up towards the church, stomping boots off before she'd move to step through the door. She'd even let Erek go first.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek hears his name upon the lips of each woman, he sniffs, nose wrinkling up as he meets up with them. His eyes fixed on the kin beside Kora, glancing over her to check to see that Sofie is physically alright. Once satisfied, he turns his attention to the taller blond, ducking his head down in a brief nod to the Jarl*
Evening, Sofie, Miss Kora.
*There's a polite tone to his voice, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a boyish grin for both blond women, following them up the steps to the church's door at Kora's behest. He stomps the snow and mud from his boots the best he can, glancing over at the kin that allows him to first only after Kora has entered. He looks away, a flush of color searing across the hard planes of his cheeks and clears his throat*
I'm Erek Skúlason, Miss Kora. I've come to speak with you.
[Kora] The great wooden door swings open without the groaning protest one might expect in such a derelict space. Someone's taken care to oil the hinges silent; to repair the faults in the once-sagging old door so it swings naturally. There's a certain heft necessary to open them; but once they start moving, the swing freely.
Inside, light streams through the old stained glass windows. Some of the broken places in the roof have been covered with tarps, but there are places in that great soaring vault where the sky is visible through broken rafters and snowflakes drift in slow, spiraling eddies down toward the stone and marble floor. The edges of the sanctuary are lost in a sort of structural gloom, but a handful of scattered lanterns, half-shuttered, flickering in the draft, give a sense of the vastness of the space.
Close to the doors - beneath the relative protection of the choir-loft - is something like a living space. There are tables, chairs, pews unbolted from the floor and dragged over. A pair of huge mismatched sofas, all cast in the glow of space heaters and scattered with blankets and the like. "Sofie gave you the address, yeah?" Kora stops just before the living area, sets down her food on a big fold-out table that's scattered with a few snacks. Underneath, a pair of coolers supplement those in the living room. It's warmer here, the subtle electric glow of space heaters chases away some of the chill.
The Skald starts stripping off her gloves. "I figured as much," she returns to Erek. "Sofie, you want to unpack the food?" she says, turning back to the kinswoman. Then, to Erek, " - you want a beer?"
[Erek Skulason] *It feels like a time-lost place that Erek enters into once he crosses the threshold to step inside. His head tilts back, craned until the back of his skull could touch in-between his shoulder blades. Blue eyes skim the ceilings, take in the large cracks in the roof, where the snow drifts in, what remains of large windows that might still have the panes of painted glass in them, reflecting the images of a once holy place. He clucks his tongue against the back of his teeth, sliding it from one cheek to the other, lips purse together and letting out a low whistle that seems to echo as it caught on the wind*
No, ma'am, I'm fine.
*It is easy to see that he is young, well under the legal age to drink, despite the fact that he turned into a raging monster that can kill you. Again, his voice carries a polite tone, no disrespect given to his refusal of the Jarl's hospitality. His gaze swings down, his quick steps carrying him towards the little island of domesticity that thrives under the choir loft*
Sofie did direct me here, gave me the address. Another kin of our tribe, Ms. Roscoe confirmed the location. Your kin have been mighty kind to a stranger, despite our tribal bonds.
[Sofie Janssen] "Hey Erek," her greeting is casual and holds no sort of malice or resentment, even if they parted on bad terms last. Fenrir are like that. Hot blooded and quick to boil. Some are unforgiving. Sofie isn't one to hold a grudge unless the offense is serious enough.
Inside she had stripped off her hat and smoothed a palm over her hair. She follows through the church, and having been here a couple of times now, she's starting to know the layout well enough. Before she can venture off into the kitchen to unpack her own bag, Kora's already asking her to unpack the food she's set on the table. Nodding, wordlessly, the Kinfolk slides off her bag to sit to the side. There's a rattle of full cans inside as the rucksack is dumped on the floor.
She goes through the process of unwinding her scarf, letting it hang around her shoulders for now, and begins unpacking the hot food the Jarl has set down. It's Greek food, apparently. Sofie doesn't even recognize half of what's in the containers and peers curiously as she sets it all out, wondering what the hell they eat around here and what goes into the dishes. Can't be healthy.
[Kora] Kora breathes out, once - a subtle, substernal laugh. Most of the sound remains inside the cage of her chest, subsumed by her breath. The light's uncertain in here; the glow of the heaters, the half-shuttered lantern on the fold-out table sends sharp angles of light and shadow between them. "You've met Drew too, have you?" A subtle flare of breath, the irony a mild undercurrent. "She does seem the welcoming sort."
Erek refuses a beer. Kora casts a glance at Sofie as she sinks - a bit awkwardly at the end of her range of motion - to pull the lid from a cooler and pull out drinks. "Sofie?" she says, offering the beer. "There's soda, too." Kora tells Erek, pulling one out for herself - rootbeer in a dark brown glass bottle - and a beer for Sofie if she wants one. Then she straightens, setting the drinks alongside on the table, looking back at Erek.
"Let's do this formally, yeah? I'm Kora Eyjólfsdóttir," she pronounces the patronymic with precise accent that shades away Icelandic, but has more in common with that language than anything from the mainland. "she who offers sorrow, renders bone, Fostern Skald of Fenris, alpha of Last Watch. Jarl here in Chicago. I fostered at the Sept auf Vinder und Ringing in Hjaltland before I came back to the states, and followed Kemp Truth-in-Frenzy until he died in battle."
The Greek food laid out on the table is enough to feed an army. There's lamb, chicken, rice, pitas, a container of moussaka and another full of grape leaves stuffed with rice and meat. The scent makes her mouth water, but she doesn't dive for the food, not yet. There's business to attend to.
[Sofie Janssen] The beer is offered and she throws a glance over. "Yeah, sure. I'll have one." She finishes setting down another container, then reaches out to take the beer bottle from Kora. "Thanks." It's set on the table, leaving her hands free to unbutton her jacket and take it off. Tossing it over a pew, she leaves it out of direct line with one of those space heaters to prevent accidental fires.
While Garou chat, she scoops up the shoulder strap of her rucksack and says something about; "Got some things for the kitchen," lowly, before making her way deeper into the church towards the large kitchen. That's where the little impromptu party had been last time and a few quips had turned into potential violence. Kora's probably heard about it by now. It's all settled anyway.
She'll be gone for a little bit, stacking away some cans and food.
[Erek Skulason] *His eyes seem to dance between the two women, some of his focus straying to the kinfolk as she unwound the outer layers of her winter clothes free. He blinks, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he realizes what he is doing, and looks away suddenly. He finds a place to sit, falling back into one of the old benches that hadn't been covered with snow and stretches out his legs. His hands remain in his coat pockets. He smirks a little at the mention of Drew, nodding*
I've meet Ms. Roscoe and Fire Claws-yuf and his young ward, Gwen. Just spoke with the wolf as of last night at the caern before coming here to meet with you.
*A muscle ticks in his jaw as he forces himself to not watch the kin leave, blue eyes remained on Kora as she gets the introductions out of the way. He rubs his back against the high seat back of the bench to ease an itch under his clothes that he could quite reach and waits until the Jarl as finished. He whistles low, the sound echoing with a faint echo just before he clears his throat to speak*
Erek Skúlason, Spinebreaker to his enemies, a cliath no moon born of the Get of Fenris, nephew to the Skvaldír - Skúli Eriksson "Gutsaw", adren skald, grandson of Thorsteinn~Skull-splitter, died an Athro Modi doing what he loved best, and Brigid "Sif’s~Virtue" Telleny, an elder whom I share moon with, also gone to the mead halls of Valhalla.
*As he spoke, a gloved hand frees itself from his pocket, swipes aside the knit cap to comb through the shaggy short blond hair that lays flat on his head. It is easy to see with the pureness of his ancestry that he wears a dead hero's face, carries the cunning of a celebrated no moon and carried the virility of his modi grandfather*
I come form the Sept of Blackrock up in the forests of Wisconsin, it's rural and small, hugging the coastline of the Great Lakes. M'uncle Skúli took me there when he found me just after m'change, Miss Kora.
[Kora] Kora's still wrapped in her winter things, standing at the edge of the table where the foot has been unpacked, one hand carelessly left around the neck of her bottle of soda. Her dark eyes flicker to the young Rotagar, and remain there. The look she gives him is direct and clear; she's a watchful creature, but one with an easy curve to her mouth - even when expression has filtered away and left it at its most neutral. Like now. Just once she glance up; as Sofie disappears into the kitchen to put away the things she brought for the pack. Then she turns back to Erek, the neutral curve of her mouth deepening into slow smile as he begins to recite the names of his ancestors.
Something about the fastness of her attention, the way she nods after each name and deed, tells him that she's listening, perhaps memorizing those names as he spells them out. Gutsaw and Skullsplitter, Sif's Virtue.
"Well met, Spinebreaker," returns Sorrow, her voice carrying a certain inherent resonance amplified by the vast spaces of the sanctuary. With introductions finished, she begins peeling off her layers of winter clothing. The scarf is unwound, gloves tugged off with her teeth and stuffed into the pockets of her coat before she takes that off too, tossing it aside. Underneath, she's wearing ordinary clothing - worn black boots, a dark gray t-shirt and white thermal underneath a half-zipped hoodie. She's pregnant - the zip of the hoodie distends over the firm curve of her stomach. It's not burdensome, yet, but it's obvious once she's out of her winter things.
"What brings you to Chicago, then?" she continues, grabbing a container of lamb and grape leaves, snagging her root beer between her index and forefinger and circling to pick a place on one of the old couches. "Are you passing through?" A flicker of a look, sizing him up, taking in the details of his expression and demeanor underneath the promise of heroes obvious in his blood and bones. " - or here to stay?"
There's a sharpness at the end of the question; that attentiveness that makes her dark gaze feel all the more direct.
[Erek Skulason] What brings me here, Miss Kora?
*Erek has been asked this question before, just yestereve when he sat on the pier overlooking the docks in the caern, speaking with a wolf named Fire Claws. He clears his throat, hand forming a fist covers his mouth as he coughs into it. The strong features of his face reddening by the cold. Her study of him will tell her that the young Get of Fenris may be a bit open with himself, perhaps, inexperienced. Of course, this openness he carries with his expressions could also be a trickster's ruse, a way to gain trust with those he speaks with*
Looking for the good fight, sent away by m'mentor, Skúli, to make it out on m'own. Fire Claws-yuf explained the caern to me, how its one of sacrifice, which I've never encountered before. So, I ain't exactly what to do in that regards, Miss Kora. Sacrifice is a big thing, it's important, when I find it. I wager I'll give it to the Maelstrom if it accepts me. I'd like to stay, to find a place to settle and grow, to make a name for myself. But for now, I'm just a lone wolf visiting your fair city.
[Sofie Janssen] It's a short affair with the kitchen. Everything is packed away, and her rucksack comes back mostly empty. She's taken off that music player she had strapped to her clothes and stowed it into the pack's pocket. The simple sweater, with it's v-neck shows a t.shirt worn beneath and possible layers under that. She's warm enough inside, even if the heating in the church doesn't extent anywhere but a couple of feet from where the space heaters are positioned.
She returns to where the others are, setting her pack down with her jacket and scarf. Without interrupting them, she picks up her beer and finds herself a seat by herself. She doesn't crowd in on either of them, kicking back and opening her beer. Legal drinking ages don't apply here and Sofie could possibly be old enough anyway. Chances are she'd get carded. She's on that threshold of where it's hard to tell the young womans age.
Sitting with them, she finds herself watching Erek more then she does Kora. But she doesn't stare at him either. Her attention drifts anytime the Jarl speaks up, and even eyes the other womans food, just not in a way that makes her look hungry.
[Kora] "Except for a few vistas," she returns, the wry twist of her mouth evident as the gleam in her dark eyes. "I think you'll find it too often less than fair. Still, it's a good place to find a fight; a good place to make roots if you can stomach the city. That Caern was raised by Fenrir - and others, but Fenrir were in the first ranks - and Fenrir have sacrificed themselves for Maelstrom ever since."
She has settled on the couch, popped open her container of food, and tucked one long leg underneath her frame. Her long, pale hair has fallen half-way loose of its haphazard moorings, and carries a hint of static electricity from the movement of the hood over the crown of her head. Kora's clearly older than both of them; was probably older than the two of them when her first change came. Adolescence was passed by without the complication of rage - sex, all of it - which leaves her rather more level-headed, more settled than most of their kind.
"You're welcome to stay here. Hunt with us. Learn the territory and the land. My pack follows a Fenrir totem - Hermodr, Baldr's son, the Eddas say. Before we claimed this land, the Eagles did. It's been in Fenrir hands since the Caern was raised."
[Erek Skulason] *Erek tries to be careful in the wander of his eyes, a glance to Sofie when she reappears, blue gaze passing over hers to meet it briefly and then not allowed to stray beyond that. His nostrils flare out, his breath expelled in a soft snort as he clears his lungs of air. He wiggles on the bench again, straightening his shoulders and puffing up just a bit to make himself look a little bigger. The corners of his mouth light up his boyish features as his face splits from the wide grin he offers the Jarl*
Your offer is most generous, Miss Kora.
*Erek starts to say, scooting to the edge of the bench as he draws his legs closer to his body, bracing feet apart as if he was getting ready to stand up*
Fire Claws has expressed a desire to seek out a pack, ain't sure how fortuitous it'd be for you to recruit a fella like him. May be something to look into as well. I'll keep your offer in mind, ain't got nothing to offer up to a totem just get, but it'd be nice to run with folks.
[Sofie Janssen] "I've heard of Truth in Frenzy, not much, and Silence," Sofie says out of the blue. "Where they both here to raise the Caern, or was that before their time, too?" Taking a swig from her beer, she looked away from Erek over to Kora, curious about the city's Tribal past and not knowing much about it. She's heard some songs around a fire, some tales to go with it, and names that have such glory stuck to them in these modern times that they happen to stick. Those two mentioned Garou had rank enough to reach that mark. Chicago isn't far from where she was raised. Word had travel there, at least.
[Kora] "I made him the same offer, Erek," the Skald says. Her voice is low, a certain richness to the tone. She's familiar enough with the acoustics of the church that it does not echo now. The cold crowds in from all around them, but within the circle of warmth created by the space heaters, things are warm enough. "I haven't seen him in a moon or more," she continues, a sharp-eyed look at Erek. "Not even when I buried his once-Alpha, Night's Reprieve. Still, that offer's open to him. Wolves aren't meant to run alone, and a pack's meant to be more than a couple of Garou, I think.
"My brother's a Godi; our other packmate's a Child of Gaia, no-moon named Roman. We had an Ahroun, but she's - " a subtle thinning of her mouth around the thought of it. "Gone. Didn't stay. Pack's important to me, though - and it's not an offer I make lightly."
Kora lifts her chin, then, casting a glance over at Sofie. The faint curve of her mouth deepens. "Silence found Truth-in-Frenzy," the story has the familiarity of gossip, " - behind a dumpster in an alley back in New Jersey. Scented the pure breed under his skin and scared him into his first change when he was fourteen or fifteen years old. They were packed together after Truth-in-Frenzy passed his rite of passage, and come to Chicago with the rest of their pack. And Doctor Slaughter, too. They both fought together in the Caern raising, with the rest of the city's packs."
There's a brief, thoughtful pause here.
" - long gone, the lot of them, except the Guardians and the lot." Her attention swings between Erek and Sofie as she tells the story, then sharpens on the kinswoman again. "There were kin who fought that battle with them, too. Fenrir kin, mostly - but some others. A kinswoman named Lexi, and another named Mina. They're both buried in the graves of the heroes, now."
[Sofie Janssen] The mention of Fire Claws not attending his Alpha's burial leaves a bad taste in her mouth. It sours her expression until she washes it away with a longer swig of beer from the bottle in her hand. She doesn't talk ill of it, she doesn't need to, not with the way the Kinfolk wears what she thinks on her sleeve like that.
But the attention drifts back to her question, and she's soon enough flashing teeth in a quick, snarl-like grin, at the idea of a Fenrir scaring another into their change. She doesn't have a clue how that would scar on the psyche of a cub, and doesn't seem like pauses to think on sympathy either. Instead she finds it something to grin about.
That slides into surprise and sharpens her interest when Kora mentions that Kinfolk have been buried in the Caern here too. She didn't think that they would do that in the cities, but instead of commenting on it, she finds herself asking something else instead. "You think that you might need Kinfolk for something similar sometime?" Meaning, Sofie would love the chance to end up one of those honoured names. She knows this is unlikely. But possibilities can mean everything to a Kinfolk that's probably going to end up pregnant most of the time and passing on teachings to young ones, not running around shooting things down like imitations of their cousins.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek is quiet now, he is listening to Kora and to Sofie. The names are vague, ones he has not encountered before, if he's heard the stories at all. The past heroes aren't the reason he has come here, but he has explained himself already. The young Get of Fenris leans back into the bench once more, slouching now as he grows more relaxed in the presence of the two ladies.
That relaxation doesn't last long as Kora corrects Erek, informs him of her attempts to bring Fire Claws into her fold and under her banner. He pokes his tongue into the left side of his cheek, arching eyebrows up suddenly as she hits home the seriousness of her offer to join. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, reddening, chapped nostrils flaring briefly*
Perhaps then, Jarl, I'll put in the extra effort to tickle the wolf's ear a bit more and persuade him the benefit of running with his brothers, with his own family. As you say, it ain't good for him, nor does two count as a pack. I'm sure his business with training his young ward, won't affect his decision if I applied a gentle tongue to my request?
*Erek goes quiet again as Kora continues to tell the of the stories of those before him and Sofie. His expression is one of interest, attention caught up until she is done, only then does he turn to focus on Sofie. The corners of his eyebrows knit together as he frowns to himself*
[Linus] The air seems to condense suddenly. Quietly, but with a presence. Space expands where once no volume existed and the physical is made more full by the sudden arrival of the lanky Godi crashing through the gauntlet with an ease that suggests an attack on the barricade between worlds rather than a seamless passage.
He trails smoke, the singed hemline and outskirts of his black half-coat and dark green cargos suggestive of Fire. Lots of it. He's slapping at a few sparks that have followed him across, murmuring softly beneath his breath and the toque adorning his head which he pulls a little further down to just over his brow. The scruff of stubble is dark and growing, several weeks in now and suggesting a possible beard (in another month or two maybe).
He plucks the once-gloves-now-tatters off his hands and tosses the remains onto a nearby pew, grunting with the effort before reaching up to rub at his neck, head rolling around tiredly. The dark circles under his eyes are not as prominent as they were before but there is a waning there. Chicago's umbra was a dark and messy place.
A flickering glance is cast at the gathered number, including the newcomer as he steps down the aisle between pews on his way to the couch section, nose lifting to sniff loudly.
"Beer 'n Baklava..." Is his greeting, eying the cooler with avarice.
[Kora] There's a certain - composure about Kora - a quiet one. A maturity that is not a matter of rank - though she has earned that now - as it is of age. Twenty-something. She had an almost ordinary life once; she traveled as Erek is doing now, without the pressures of the war. Kora casts a moving glance back to Sofie, pauses long enough to swallow a mouthful of grape leaf and wash it back with a swallow of root beer. She holds the bottle between her fore and middle the fingers, balanced by her thumb, the way she once might've held a beer bottle.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Sofie," Kora says, low-voiced, lifting that bottle in a faint, lingering toast. "I hope it doesn't come to that again, at least, not until Ragnarok comes. The city's Garou had another Caern before that; it was poisoned by the unmaker, infected and dying. They'd ended it rather than let the unmaker take it. The fetish that lead them to Maelstrom, deep in slumber, was their last hope." She finishes that with a sharp exhale, her nostrils flaring with the breath. " - which isn't to say we don't need, you here. It's even more important, a place like this. There are so many things we can't do for ourselves. So many places you can go that're closed to us."
Then she looks back to Erek; her mouth curves into a faint, twisting smile. "I imagine the city's confusing; off-putting to a feral born. Maybe he just needs a rotagar to remind him of what he knows deep inside. Wolves aren't meant to run alone. I've no objection to that. And Li's taken on some of Gwen's training, too. Speaking of - "
When the Godi appears, Kora dips her head in his direction. "Li, this is Erek. New blood. Erek, this is Linus - my brother and packmate."
[Erek Skulason] *In an agile bound, Erek stands up the moment Kora passes introductions between him and Linus. He dips his head in a quick nod to Kora's brother and packmate. Blue eyes skidding up and down to take the other in with a curious glance, before he is swinging his eyes back to Sofie first to see her reaction to Kora's words, and then to Kora - herself*
I'll do my best, Miss Kora.
[Sofie Janssen] Linus comes in from the Umbra, in other words, he appears out of thin air instead of using a door, which startles the Kinfolk who had felt the sudden, stumbling presence like a sudden punch to her solar plexus. She's short of letting out some sort of expletive, swallowing it down, and forcing her tensed muscles to relax.
Her attention swings from the brother back to the sister, and Sofie is not really disappointed, she's nodding instead and understanding where Kora comes from. "Yeah, I get that," she tells the Jarl, "I hope it doesn't come to it too, you know?" There's a long pause after that, as if she's rethinking about what she was going to add to that...
... and then decides not to say anything altogether as introductions go back around. She drinks from her beer instead. Her light blues settled on Erek a moment, giving a look back. The girl is not shy on eye contact.
[Linus] "Fuccckkkin' lil' spitfire that Gwen. Keep's remindin' me of Grudge~Cracker down south. Choke a Thunderwyrm just to get directions to the nearest hive..." He snorts most of it out, wiping beneath his nose with a bare and chill paled hand. The moment Erek is standing Linus is sitting, nodding at the Rotagar in turn before shifting his attention to Sofie nearby and offering a flash of a smile that is a tad skewed by the soot and bits of ash clinging to his quasi-beard, cheeks and face.
"Mind tossing me a Beer, please?"
And around on Kora with a casual stare that is at once poignant as it is...well, one sibling to another.
"Hrafn just reported in. No sign of anything around the turf, we're pretty clean 'cept for a few things skirting the edges. Couple of Wyrmhound packs came sniffing around but didn't stay too long. Weaver's kind of thick on the Southern edge toward the Mile though...might be worth keeping an eye on and I'm hearing buzz..." A frown. Vague but present. "...Bunch of Wyrm whispers been chattering about some 'Wolves asking favours'. Nothing localized just...Might be rumours..."
And then back to Erek again with a sharp clearing of the throat.
"Bone~Writer, Cliath, Godi to Fenris..."
[Erek Skulason] *Erek's expression becomes perplexed every time he looks in Sofie's direction, meeting her gaze and then promptly dropping his, eyebrows furrowing as if he wants to say something to her, but now wasn't the time to do it. Not when they stood before the Jarl and her brother. He shuffles his weight, rolling back and forth on the balls and heels of his feet, using the slow momentum to keep the blood circulating through his legs*
Spinebreaker, cliath, no moon. *A shorter version of introductions tossed between him and Linus as one sits as the other stands. He inclines his head again to the brother of the Jarl, head tilting to the side. He brings a hand up, running fingers under his jaw to scratch at the blond patch of hair growth that tries to fashion a beard, but fails to do so*
Dealt with a skirmish a couple days ago, caused a diversion for a huge Mechanical tarantula whilst some other Garou I was with used the webbing to free some wyrm nastiness that had been caught in it. It made the weaver and wyrm fight each other and helped to clean up the area as they destroyed each other.
[Sofie Janssen] Hitching her brows at Linus request doesn't stop her from getting up from where she's sitting to grab him out a beer from the cooler she saw Kora grab hers from. Rather ironic, really. With a beer in hand, she walks over to hand it to Linus rather then toss it.
"What have you been doing?" She asks of him, glancing over the soot on his face and in the hair he's growing there. Her curious is evident, as is the mirth that lies beneath the corners of her mouth. It doesn't really reach her eyes all that much, at least not right then. "You look like a chimney sweep."
[Kora] "There's moussaka if you want it," Kora tells Linus, a nod back toward the table after Linus has asked Sofie to get him a beer. "And Sofie restocked the kitchen for us, so you'll be able to eat those cans of Vienna sausages to your heart's content." There's a certain curl to her half-smile there, familiar, bemused affection - the old desire to torment - all twisted together in that expression. Her dark eyes linger briefly on her brother, and the half-smile smooths away as she hears his report on the umbral reflection of the pack's territory.
"Hmmm." She makes that low sound for Erek's story, listening carefully, then swings a lingering glance back at her brother. Taking in his reports of the rumors his Hrafn had gleamed from the city's spiritual reflection. "The doc traced the owners of the house where Drew was attacked," Kora returns to Linus, a glance back at Erek, including him in the conversation. "I've got maps of their other properties. None in our territory, but there are a few in the neighborhood."
A brief pause, a certain twist of her mouth. "They own an apartment building where the doc and I put down some cursed humans last year. A whole family, twisted by the enemy." She twists her narrow shoulders. " - she thinks they might have some association with a church. She's gonna see what she can find." Then, a tip of her head toward the Rotagar. "I offered Erek here our hospitality. Let him run with us, see if he fits."
[Erek Skulason] *Erek hides his surprise when the Jarl decides to include him in the conversation. His eyebrows furrow deeply as the corners of his mouth pull downward when he hears the nature of the incidents happening. His arms lift, folding across his chest tightly, tucking hands under his arms to rest palms flat along his ribcage. He braces his feet apart to steady his stance; blue eyes locked to Kora mostly as she speaks*
[Kora] Then, with a subtle huff of laughter - Kora nods her pale head at Linus. "She's right. You look like a chimney sweep. Or a fire fighter. One of those smoke jumpers, yeah?"
[Linus] "Well!"
And he claps his thighs, which raises a small plume of ash before reaching to take up his beer. He grins up at Sofie, brushing knuckles over his jacket lapels.
"Found a House fire. Wanted to harvest a friend or two. Went in all fists and jabs and attitude- Pow!" He fakes a few punches, legs coming down to plant his sneaker clad feet. "Fuckers thought they had me and I just...ya know..." Shrugging, cool and calm and slick for the occasion, leaning back into his chair "...stayed cool and locked the deal down." It only occurs to him briefly that spiritual exploits might not be so translatable to Kin, which has him narrowing his eyes slightly and re-trying a moment later.
"Went fist to toe with a Five alarm fire and won. Go me."
And then 'round toward Kora again.
"Might well be those same spiral fucks looking to make things difficult. I'm going to have to have a talk with some more eyes and try to double up the Hrafn detail but if this Fire Deal I've got going and one or two other things comes through, I should be able to make this place a Dragon's maw for any spiritual trespassers by week's end..."
A pause. Then: "...Might be worth checking out though-" And an eye cast at the Rotagar, flicking up and down. "Maybe put the newblood on an in and out. Better than us charging in and scaring off anyone there..."
A bounce of brows at Kora.
[Sofie Janssen] Not yet returning to her seat, she's standing a few feet from Linus as he tells his story. Her attention is focused solely on him in that moment and she finds her mouth creeping more and more towards a grin, and a light begins to form in her gaze. He leaves her chuckling, especially when he puts it in easy-Kinfolk terms.
"Go you," she agreed.
Then began back towards where she had been sitting on a sofa. "You still need a scrub behind the ears." The Kinfolk grins and plants herself back down on the cushions, crossing her legs at her ankles rather then over at the thigh.
[Linus] He grins at Sofie.
"...I'd make a slick as a black man joke but it'd be wasted on all you Aryans..." He snorts and slaps some more soot off his shoulder.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek's mood lightens with Linus' story, his nose twitching, watching the Godi with a flick of an eyebrow. It makes him smirk when there's a suggestion to put the no moon through his paces, and then snorts, rolling his eyes*
We all can't be as darkly beautiful and sooty as you, Linus.
[Kora] "She's got you, there - " echoes Kora, which a flash of a half-swallowed smile that represents one of those when Linus was a baby and mom took pictures of his naked ass in the tub stories she has chosen not to tell. The best thing about being the oldest is that you can destroy all similar pictures of yourself before your siblings know they existed. And live, safe in the knowledge that future significant others will never see you subjected to the indignities of the Baby New Year outfit for "just one more year."
Then she sobers, nodding time time to his report. "Keep me posted, yeah? I'm going to see if Izzy has any more information; hopefully I'll get together with the doc later in the week. I was gonna send in Roman," a flash of a look back to Erek. " - but getting eyes on a couple of places would be wise. So we might have something for you to do in the next bit, Rotagar. Before you go, I'll write down my number for you."
Then she glances back down the sanctuary, toward the door leading to the kitchen, the old sunday school classrooms repurposed as dens and the like. "Course, you're welcome to stay. There's room. And," a tip of her head in Sofie's direction. "Food, too."
[Sofie Janssen] Linus is right. The joke is wasted on the pale blonde with pale eyes, and feral, Fenrir breeding out of her backside.
Looking back and forth between the two Get of Fenris males, Sofie finds herself drinking slowly from her beer and casting a glance over to Kora. When she lowers the beer to rest on her thigh, she's holding back a smirk or grin, or something like it. "I don't know about where you come from, Jarl, but I have never seen so many pretty Fenrirs in my life. What is this place? Magnet for all the attractive folk?"
"The natives to Chicago sure must be an ugly bunch, trying to bring in some new stock." Highly amused, the young woman goes back to looking at the men again. For all her comments she's actually not flirting. There's not a single wave of hormones coming off her, and she's not really ogling them either. When Sofie looks at someone, it's almost always eye contact or at least searching their face.
[Erek Skulason] Afraid to break it to you, Sofie, I ain't no where as pretty as Sooty over there.
*Erek chuckles at the kin's comment, his head shaking just a little. He runs a hand over his hair again, replacing the knit cap that he'd taking off and slamming it back down over his ears.*
I'll take the number, not very hungry at the moment, but I do have an appointment to keep to meet with a friend. I'll be sure to swing back by to take you up on the hospitality, however.
[Linus] "Damn right you ain't." To the Rotagar. "Mama called me 'Handsome' 'til I started bringing girls home. Then I was a 'Shit disturber that shoulda had a daddy 'round to belt me more when I was young'. Good ole Mom." He cracks another grin and hefts his unopened beer.
Kora's 'Baby Pictures!' tone receives a flash of 'I will wait for your good death and bind your spirit to my boot heel' sort of stares from Linus before she's offering orders and he's nodding in response. It isn't until she mentions Izzy and Roman that Linus' features suddenly slacken briefly and then grow a tad more serious. He rights himself and finally goes about opening his beer, flipping the cap onto the table nearby and settling into the chair comfortably to stare at the Jarl.
"Reminds me. She came 'round last night. Roman 'n I were here 'n got to talking. She told me 'bout some Maggot things that came out of an alley. She got bit. Checked her over 'n Roman and I got her to show us the alley. Was clean to, so that's covered." A beat. "They...told me 'bout this jackass that came through here before. Fuck up named Remy putting orders in the air and shittin' insults at Roman like he owned the place."
His jaw skews slightly. Unaligned and unamused.
"Didn't have his name or anything so I figured you might know more..."
[Sofie Janssen] Shrugging at Erek, she didn't say anything on that. It was a matter of opinion and Sofie had put him into the same category. The Get of Fenris is leaving and she looks him over briefly, wondering where he's running off to that he has to say friend and skipping out on beers with his Tribe. It's not her business and Linus distracts her with talk about maggots, followed by Remy.
She winces a little and takes a drinker deep of beer. Her gaze darts to Kora, wondering if the Jarl has already heard. Sofie had been right in the heart of that little problem. Maybe Roman hadn't passed that bit on to Linus or his Alpha.
[Kora] "You started bringing girls home - ?" the question is tossed off with a low laugh for Sofie's question about the pretty Fenrir. It's not an adjective that could be assigned to her, not precisely. There's too much wolf in her; too much animal under the surface, evident now in the way her attention swings to Erek briefly, focuses, then returns to her brother. The Rotagar will have her number before he leaves, without question.
Her expression tightens. "He's a Godi, no deedname yet. Just a cubname he doesn't want to use any more." Her attention flashes back to Sofie. Her voice is quiet. "I heard that you and he had words."
[Linus] "S'fuckin' Godi?! With no fuckin' Name, shootin' his mouth off in-..."
And he's standing. Linus is a good liar. Embellisher, he'd call it but he's also honest about his wants, needs and opinions. They write themselves on his face and that is made only more evident by the sneer of disgust that sends him pacing off to one side for Sofie's reiteration of events to Kora's question.
[Erek Skulason] *The shift in conversation didn't involve him, it held his attention long enough to pick up the details on what to look out for with this Remy they speak of. He unfolds his arms, meeting Kora's eyes when she looks at him. He only gives her a small shrug of his shoulders, his arms dropping to his sides as he steps away from the bench he sat up and make his way towards the Jarl. He fishes out a scrap piece of a paper and something to write with, an indication for Kora to leave him her digits. Once the act was done, he folds the piece of paper up and makes his excuses to leave*
[Sofie Janssen] Damn.
"Yeah," she clears her throat and sits straighter. The beer is rested on her thigh with her fingers wrapped around the bottle, mid way. "I said something to him and Drew that neither of them liked. It was out of line, and I apologized. He just wanted to set things straight."
"Got into my face, that sort of thing. Then Roman jumped into it, and Remy wouldn't listen. Claiming the fact that I'm Fenrir Kin, which .. well, he's right, but this is Roman's territory, which is what I had said in the start - well, in a round about way." Sofie doesn't seem too keen on spilling out the exact details here, not wanting to blow the situation out of proportion. "And once it was settled, he backed off."
"For the record. I still think he was wrong, on both counts. But I didn't say it to him. I didn't want to cause no more trouble for Roman or disrespect your territory anymore then I had. Even if I was defending it." Her gaze had been flickering between the siblings, back and forth. "Wasn't my place to, and that's why I apologized. Not for what I said."
[Kora] Kora's dark eyes trace their way across Sofie's features as the kinswoman offers her story. She listens, still, watchful, feeling the reluctance as much as she sees it refusing to push on it. When the kinswoman finishes with her opinion about Remy's claims, the still, quiet expression on the Skald's face shifts. She gives a moving half-smile at the end, this faint nod of her find pale head by way of thanks.
"He's a hothead," Kora tells Linus. "They called his prettyboy as his cub name. He's itching for someone to repeat it so he can extract payment for the memory in blood. Drew might know more about him, though. I've seen them together a few times."
[snail] [*dies* i have good timing]
[Sofie Janssen] [felt your ears burning!]
[Kora] (I need to sleep soon, guys, so I'll be bowing out shortly!)
to Linus, snail, Sofie Janssen
[Linus] "...Yeah?"
A sharpness to that tone. Eaten by a loud sniff and wipe of hand beneath the nostrils. He takes a quick sip off the beer and wipes his lips next with the same hand.
"Then she can have him. Fuck ain't killed enough wyrm, talked enough spirit or shit enough Gaia to earn himself Worth, ain't no reason for him to be in or on this Territory, dealing insults and thinking that's what makes him Fenrir."
(I'll be headin' out myself to be honest. Having trouble concentrating.)
[Sofie Janssen] [can leave it there guys. Sofie will stay, finish her beer and wander off again.]
[Kora] "The territory's open to the tribe, Linus. And the Sept, until I've got reason to close it. Heated words and insults you heard," a flash of a glance at Sofie, dark eyes above a curving mouth. "Second hand notwithstanding. Understand?
"Now, hey - " she lifts her chin toward the table where the meal's unpacked. "Have some baklava, yeah? Before Roman gets back and drowns in it.."
[Linus] "...And might as well be permission to come in and do it all again. Godi ain't a Modi ain't a fuckin' idiot..."
A clap of hands, more soot and ash and that sneer again.
"...Keep it. I ain't hungry. Got work to do." And he's turning with a fist slapping out at open air, already reaching for other worlds.
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