[Erek Skulason] *With leadership comes a great responsibility, a weight that the pregnant Skald must carry along with the child that slowly begins to swell her belly. She has the whole of her tribe bearing down upon her shoulders as well as motherhood. She is (whether she likes it or not) the matriarch of the tribe, and so it is that young impressionable Garou ( who don't know better) would view her not only as their leader, but perhaps as a mother figure, if they lacked such.
Erek finds her in the abandoned church, pacing with the energy of a ferocious tiger. He watched her from the safety of the shadows, wary to approach for several minutes, cloaking himself with the gifts of his auspice. But eventually, the young Get of Fenris will muster up the courage to face the pregnant Jarl and steps out of the shadows that dance across masculine features. Blue eyes on her, blond hair obscuring his vision*
Kora-rhya... you have time for that talk?
[Izzy Montoya] (this is ONLY because of that tag. *L*)
to Erek Skulason, Kora
[Erek Skulason] ooc/ah shit. LOL!
to Izzy Montoya, Kora
[Kora] There's rage bright underneath her skin, and a certain old grief, nameless now - not this raw in weeks or months - which sticks itself somewhere in her throat. Some other night she might have gone hunting to spend herself until she could no longer think. Now: she will not hunt alone, not even the smallest gafflings of pain or poverty, death or want, that haunt the edges of her territory. So she paces, a circuit of the stone floor, moving constantly.
When Erek appears from the shadows, she looks up; Not startled. He has enough presence of mind to emerge from the shadows before he addresses her. Still, there's a moment when something fleeting moves across her sharp features - the reflective darkness of her eyes, the still, generous curve of her mouth.
"Let's," she says, inviting him closer with a movement of her pale head. "What do you need, spinebreaker?"
[Erek Skulason] *Spinebreaker. How he was beginning to dislike the way his deed name sounded on the lips of women. Kora doesn't use it to mock him, but there's a sting that brightens his cheeks to a flushed hue. He bows his blond head, not meeting her in the eye, giving her the respect that is proper. His Uncle Skúli had taught him that much. He walks towards her wearing the frustrated expression of a boy confused by things.
He races a hand over his hair, unsettling it, pushing it back out of his face in agitation*
It's about the female kin around here, Kora-rhya, seems I'm running into a bit of a bind with the one called Sofie. She seems determined to address all the Garou of our tribe with poor treatment of her, that we think of her as less than what she is.
*This is where he lifts his head to look up at her*
I like the kin, but she's becoming difficult to handle. She goads and pushes and assumes when it ain't the truth. What did we do to her to deserve this shit. I'm about done with trying to reason with her.
[Kora] "Poor treatment?" returns the Skald, perhaps more sharply than she meant it. Her chin rises with the gesture, dark eyes fix on Erek, who manages to keep his gaze somewhere beneath the level of her eyes. That's half intuition, half learned behavior. Humans want to look others in the eye, find that avoiding the gaze suggests - something darker, some dishonesty, some nefarious purpose, something to conceal.
The air is cold here, it sparks against her skin. Her coat and scarf have been left elsewhere; she's dressed in no more than her dedicated clothes, the garments that shift and move with her body when she takes on another form. "Has someone been beating her - " this is spoken low, with a visceral wrapping of anger as Sorrow stops pacing and goes still, a sharp, lifting glance back toward Erek.
Kora is so still that she could be carved from ice, one of the icons some squatter painted in lapis blue and on the curved wall of the chancel. "What insult has she suffered?"
[Erek Skulason] *The muscle in the left side of his jaw twitched, teeth clenching tight as he feels the weight of her gaze on him. Erek knows better than to meet her eyes, to even think to look up into them or offer the slightest challenge. It isn't his auspice nor his rank to do such things. He moves with an agile quickness hidden under the bulky layers of winter clothes, body sinking down as he moves into a low crouch. His back arching, shoulders curled forward to make him appear like a gargoyle sitting on the edge of a building. His arms tuck back against his ribs, forearms draped across his thighs*
Yes, poor treatment. *The young Get of Fenris muses on the question, wrinkling up his nose as he frowns even more*
I saw no one touch her, though, she bore bloody knuckles earlier this evening. I found her while on patrol running from a bar, she had gotten into a fist fight with one of the locals.
*His head shakes, inhaling sharply, and then allowing air to explode from his lungs in a thick mist* I've not laid a hand to her physically, nor have I seen other Garou. But her opinion of us is harsh one, like we treat her poorly, like she is nothing. Or so I perceive. She acts feral, thinks she can do what we do, or so again I perceive.
[Kora] "Has Remy?" Laid has on her physically. The question comes right on the heels of Erek's answer, as sharp as the first question. Her mouth is set; quiet, curving. She's looking down at him now, a long sweeping glance, hair coiling loosely around her neck and shoulders.
There's something quickened about the light in her eyes, though the flare of temper into which he walked has died away. Kora has not yet relaxed. That tension lingers in the set of her narrow shoulders, and the pulse coursing through her next is quick and steady. There is a band of tendon taut in her jaw, and a certain - loose tension to her spine, as if she were a spring, coiled, ready to be released.
Her voice is quieter now, though. Softer, almost. With a barred promise of potential violence.
[Erek Skulason] I don't know. Only dealt and met Remy the other night, Sofie doesn't speak of him.
*He rolls his left shoulder back, rolling his head from right to left, popping the disks in his spine to bring some relief to the tension that continues to build in his back. He shuffles weight to get more comfortable. Head tilting up slightly*
What have you encountered of Sofie that'd make her think this way? That'd we'd treat her as such?
[Linus] The air collects. Re-arranges. Grates with irritation and balloons outward.
The pop is becoming a mainstay these days and the preferred method of the Godi's coming and going. His attire has changed somewhat. A simple dark hoodie with a voluminous hood, the strings still sticking out to contract it's hemline around his features. Pants a thick battered pair of black cargos and a simple pair of well worn garrison boots one might find under some washout cadet's bunk. His hands are gloved in a pair of cut off mittens, thumbs stuck in the front pocket of the hoodie, while his features are a pale colour indicative of lack of sleep. Another mainstay these days. He caught shut eye when he could. Not when it was time.
The air in the Church is charged. Flushed with the sensation and creeping galavant of a Predator's good time. A harsh sharpness that cuts away the excess courtesies and respects that mingle in breath and words and leaves behind a directness that is off-putting. Unsettling. Scouring of nerves. It is capable of being felt and known to the most mind and emotionally numb of individuals.
Because that was Rage and what it did.
He doesn't speak. Offers a nod toward Kora that doesn't lift to meet her gaze. Another toward the Rotagar, with the barest hint of narrowed eyes. Then he's turning towards the table and the old Ramen noodles in a takeout box sitting on it. The couch is fetched for a seat and the cold noodles are plucked up for a bite. He'd left them there hours ago and had decided to come back to finish his meal.
[Kora] Kora gives Erek a brief shake of her pale head, which only serves to send her blond hair uncoiling further down the line of her spine. There's a stray chopstick lost in the loops and whorls, unmoored from the knot into which she had twisted it. Her eyes linger on him, but lift once toward the smear of light against the stained glass windows.
"There was a Forseti here this winter last who beat a kinswoman nearly to death for some offense. It was not imagined, but nor was it - " She breathes in, once, and then out, her nostrils flaring at the end of it. "I will speak with her. More than that I cannot promise." Her mouth sharps, a grimace half-withheld. "You were right to walk away, Erek, before she goaded you into a fit of temper. If she offends your honor, you should bring the offense to me."
[Erek Skulason] *In the passage of Linus arrival, Erek has shifting his body's position. His ass gravitated to the plant down on the cold floors, knees remain bent, drawn up towards his chest with feet spread apart from each other by several inches. His arms found a new perch atop those bent knees and he sits this way, with his back still arched and nothing to support it from behind.
He pulls his right hand to his face, rubbing his thumb across his nose, sniffling as blue eyes seek out Kora's little brother to watch him until Kora's voice pulls the young Get of Fenris' attention towards her once more*
The strength of my will tempers the dullness of my rage, Kora-rhya, I've learned to not let my rage get the better of me when I can control it. I can only surmise, she won't appreciate the talking you give her. Will likely chalk it up as some other way of her tribe trying to oppress her delicate sense of freedom.
*Erek sighs, shaking his head*
I don't disregard a kin's right to free will, Jarl, but I don't like it when they try to play games with monsters. She'll get her hand bit off eventually if you can't put sense into her.
[Linus] "Simple way to fix that..."
Linus chirps up, eying the inside of his takeout box and speaking around a mouthful of noodles.
"Send her off to a Traditional Sept. Let her get a taste of what it's actually like. Storm Hammer or Bone Seer. Or that one..." He jabs at the empty air with his chopsticks "...Tide Breaker down near Florida...Fuckers are brutal out there.."
[Erek Skulason] Supposedly she comes from a traditional sept, or a rural one at least. Says she isn't from the city from what little information I've gained by talking with her.
*Erek replies to Linus, looking over at him as the Theurge spoke up*
[Kora] Kora breathes out once, sharply. It's a bitter sort of laugh in response to Linus' suggestion. She opens her mouth to add a quip, but thinks better of it in the end and swallows it back down into the throat, holds it someplace in her chest, between lungs and sternum.
"If I cannot make her see that, she'll have her hand bitten." - she agrees, at last, with the rotagar. "You're welcome to stay here. But if you'll excuse me, I need fresh air."
The bite of the wind against her face. The promise of the moon, somewhere above the clouds.
(OH GOSH GUYS I AM FALLING SLEEP)
Erek finds her in the abandoned church, pacing with the energy of a ferocious tiger. He watched her from the safety of the shadows, wary to approach for several minutes, cloaking himself with the gifts of his auspice. But eventually, the young Get of Fenris will muster up the courage to face the pregnant Jarl and steps out of the shadows that dance across masculine features. Blue eyes on her, blond hair obscuring his vision*
Kora-rhya... you have time for that talk?
[Izzy Montoya] (this is ONLY because of that tag. *L*)
to Erek Skulason, Kora
[Erek Skulason] ooc/ah shit. LOL!
to Izzy Montoya, Kora
[Kora] There's rage bright underneath her skin, and a certain old grief, nameless now - not this raw in weeks or months - which sticks itself somewhere in her throat. Some other night she might have gone hunting to spend herself until she could no longer think. Now: she will not hunt alone, not even the smallest gafflings of pain or poverty, death or want, that haunt the edges of her territory. So she paces, a circuit of the stone floor, moving constantly.
When Erek appears from the shadows, she looks up; Not startled. He has enough presence of mind to emerge from the shadows before he addresses her. Still, there's a moment when something fleeting moves across her sharp features - the reflective darkness of her eyes, the still, generous curve of her mouth.
"Let's," she says, inviting him closer with a movement of her pale head. "What do you need, spinebreaker?"
[Erek Skulason] *Spinebreaker. How he was beginning to dislike the way his deed name sounded on the lips of women. Kora doesn't use it to mock him, but there's a sting that brightens his cheeks to a flushed hue. He bows his blond head, not meeting her in the eye, giving her the respect that is proper. His Uncle Skúli had taught him that much. He walks towards her wearing the frustrated expression of a boy confused by things.
He races a hand over his hair, unsettling it, pushing it back out of his face in agitation*
It's about the female kin around here, Kora-rhya, seems I'm running into a bit of a bind with the one called Sofie. She seems determined to address all the Garou of our tribe with poor treatment of her, that we think of her as less than what she is.
*This is where he lifts his head to look up at her*
I like the kin, but she's becoming difficult to handle. She goads and pushes and assumes when it ain't the truth. What did we do to her to deserve this shit. I'm about done with trying to reason with her.
[Kora] "Poor treatment?" returns the Skald, perhaps more sharply than she meant it. Her chin rises with the gesture, dark eyes fix on Erek, who manages to keep his gaze somewhere beneath the level of her eyes. That's half intuition, half learned behavior. Humans want to look others in the eye, find that avoiding the gaze suggests - something darker, some dishonesty, some nefarious purpose, something to conceal.
The air is cold here, it sparks against her skin. Her coat and scarf have been left elsewhere; she's dressed in no more than her dedicated clothes, the garments that shift and move with her body when she takes on another form. "Has someone been beating her - " this is spoken low, with a visceral wrapping of anger as Sorrow stops pacing and goes still, a sharp, lifting glance back toward Erek.
Kora is so still that she could be carved from ice, one of the icons some squatter painted in lapis blue and on the curved wall of the chancel. "What insult has she suffered?"
[Erek Skulason] *The muscle in the left side of his jaw twitched, teeth clenching tight as he feels the weight of her gaze on him. Erek knows better than to meet her eyes, to even think to look up into them or offer the slightest challenge. It isn't his auspice nor his rank to do such things. He moves with an agile quickness hidden under the bulky layers of winter clothes, body sinking down as he moves into a low crouch. His back arching, shoulders curled forward to make him appear like a gargoyle sitting on the edge of a building. His arms tuck back against his ribs, forearms draped across his thighs*
Yes, poor treatment. *The young Get of Fenris muses on the question, wrinkling up his nose as he frowns even more*
I saw no one touch her, though, she bore bloody knuckles earlier this evening. I found her while on patrol running from a bar, she had gotten into a fist fight with one of the locals.
*His head shakes, inhaling sharply, and then allowing air to explode from his lungs in a thick mist* I've not laid a hand to her physically, nor have I seen other Garou. But her opinion of us is harsh one, like we treat her poorly, like she is nothing. Or so I perceive. She acts feral, thinks she can do what we do, or so again I perceive.
[Kora] "Has Remy?" Laid has on her physically. The question comes right on the heels of Erek's answer, as sharp as the first question. Her mouth is set; quiet, curving. She's looking down at him now, a long sweeping glance, hair coiling loosely around her neck and shoulders.
There's something quickened about the light in her eyes, though the flare of temper into which he walked has died away. Kora has not yet relaxed. That tension lingers in the set of her narrow shoulders, and the pulse coursing through her next is quick and steady. There is a band of tendon taut in her jaw, and a certain - loose tension to her spine, as if she were a spring, coiled, ready to be released.
Her voice is quieter now, though. Softer, almost. With a barred promise of potential violence.
[Erek Skulason] I don't know. Only dealt and met Remy the other night, Sofie doesn't speak of him.
*He rolls his left shoulder back, rolling his head from right to left, popping the disks in his spine to bring some relief to the tension that continues to build in his back. He shuffles weight to get more comfortable. Head tilting up slightly*
What have you encountered of Sofie that'd make her think this way? That'd we'd treat her as such?
[Linus] The air collects. Re-arranges. Grates with irritation and balloons outward.
The pop is becoming a mainstay these days and the preferred method of the Godi's coming and going. His attire has changed somewhat. A simple dark hoodie with a voluminous hood, the strings still sticking out to contract it's hemline around his features. Pants a thick battered pair of black cargos and a simple pair of well worn garrison boots one might find under some washout cadet's bunk. His hands are gloved in a pair of cut off mittens, thumbs stuck in the front pocket of the hoodie, while his features are a pale colour indicative of lack of sleep. Another mainstay these days. He caught shut eye when he could. Not when it was time.
The air in the Church is charged. Flushed with the sensation and creeping galavant of a Predator's good time. A harsh sharpness that cuts away the excess courtesies and respects that mingle in breath and words and leaves behind a directness that is off-putting. Unsettling. Scouring of nerves. It is capable of being felt and known to the most mind and emotionally numb of individuals.
Because that was Rage and what it did.
He doesn't speak. Offers a nod toward Kora that doesn't lift to meet her gaze. Another toward the Rotagar, with the barest hint of narrowed eyes. Then he's turning towards the table and the old Ramen noodles in a takeout box sitting on it. The couch is fetched for a seat and the cold noodles are plucked up for a bite. He'd left them there hours ago and had decided to come back to finish his meal.
[Kora] Kora gives Erek a brief shake of her pale head, which only serves to send her blond hair uncoiling further down the line of her spine. There's a stray chopstick lost in the loops and whorls, unmoored from the knot into which she had twisted it. Her eyes linger on him, but lift once toward the smear of light against the stained glass windows.
"There was a Forseti here this winter last who beat a kinswoman nearly to death for some offense. It was not imagined, but nor was it - " She breathes in, once, and then out, her nostrils flaring at the end of it. "I will speak with her. More than that I cannot promise." Her mouth sharps, a grimace half-withheld. "You were right to walk away, Erek, before she goaded you into a fit of temper. If she offends your honor, you should bring the offense to me."
[Erek Skulason] *In the passage of Linus arrival, Erek has shifting his body's position. His ass gravitated to the plant down on the cold floors, knees remain bent, drawn up towards his chest with feet spread apart from each other by several inches. His arms found a new perch atop those bent knees and he sits this way, with his back still arched and nothing to support it from behind.
He pulls his right hand to his face, rubbing his thumb across his nose, sniffling as blue eyes seek out Kora's little brother to watch him until Kora's voice pulls the young Get of Fenris' attention towards her once more*
The strength of my will tempers the dullness of my rage, Kora-rhya, I've learned to not let my rage get the better of me when I can control it. I can only surmise, she won't appreciate the talking you give her. Will likely chalk it up as some other way of her tribe trying to oppress her delicate sense of freedom.
*Erek sighs, shaking his head*
I don't disregard a kin's right to free will, Jarl, but I don't like it when they try to play games with monsters. She'll get her hand bit off eventually if you can't put sense into her.
[Linus] "Simple way to fix that..."
Linus chirps up, eying the inside of his takeout box and speaking around a mouthful of noodles.
"Send her off to a Traditional Sept. Let her get a taste of what it's actually like. Storm Hammer or Bone Seer. Or that one..." He jabs at the empty air with his chopsticks "...Tide Breaker down near Florida...Fuckers are brutal out there.."
[Erek Skulason] Supposedly she comes from a traditional sept, or a rural one at least. Says she isn't from the city from what little information I've gained by talking with her.
*Erek replies to Linus, looking over at him as the Theurge spoke up*
[Kora] Kora breathes out once, sharply. It's a bitter sort of laugh in response to Linus' suggestion. She opens her mouth to add a quip, but thinks better of it in the end and swallows it back down into the throat, holds it someplace in her chest, between lungs and sternum.
"If I cannot make her see that, she'll have her hand bitten." - she agrees, at last, with the rotagar. "You're welcome to stay here. But if you'll excuse me, I need fresh air."
The bite of the wind against her face. The promise of the moon, somewhere above the clouds.
(OH GOSH GUYS I AM FALLING SLEEP)
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