[Linus] Aches and pains.
He sits on Church steps regarding skies, painted clean gray. The grays of ash, burned pure, if useless. The grays of ghosts, mere echoes and harmless. The grays of imagination, fortitude and mental states devoid of fuel to give substance to thought. It is a welcome fugue and a hideously addictive quality that he seems to delight in taking advantage of.
It helps keep his mind off the pain that riddles ribcages and stomach, if his clutching hands and wrapped arms over gray coats not entirely necessary in the warm(ish) night, are any indication.
A quasi-permanent grimace seems to line his face while the curling presence he projects upon those gray stoop steps before those aging oak doors, is hardly one of power, strength or attitude. It speaks more of pain, displeasure and 'Ow' over anything else.
Still...
His eyes remain above, watching the clouds as if in search of something.
[Luana Kirchmann] She's moving along the street a block, having come down the steps from an apartment condo across the road. Dressed down means Luana is in a pair of jeans, some ankle boot and a closed jacket over a camisole. Dirty blonde hair is loose and layered with a kink to it. The woman isn't very tall, even with the extra inches the heels afford her, and is as petite as they come. But she walks through the neighbourhood as though she belongs, as if the threat of gangs and bad men didn't cross her mind.
At the church, she's paused to light a cigarette with a cheap, plastic lighter, which is dropped into the deep pocket of her jacket after. Inhaling, she plucks the cigarette from her mouth and casts a glance over to where Linus is sitting on the church steps.
From the distance her gaze flicks over him, and the quiet rhythm of her feet on the side walk is slower now, moving at more cautious, or curious, stroll.
"I do not think there are any services held there anymore," she offers with a distinct accent.
[Linus] "Gee, Really?"
It's the beginning.
"...And here I thought I was waiting around for a fucking priest to come along and bless my sinful ass, 'cause it's been kicked up and down the street by a fuckin' hedonistic Carnival Clown who thought it was fuckin' funny to spit for lube!"
A hand lifts, flailing around in the air wildly.
"...And low and fucking Be-hold! I come by the stone steps looking for a little sympathy and what does he tell me?"
A finger jabs into his own chest, eyes thinning to slits at the stopped Blonde.
"That my fucking ways are in the devil! My shit stinks too much and oh yeah? I got circumcised and God's all pissy 'cause I snipped the hood and wear red on Sundays-Yes! I'm pretty fucking aware there's no damned service here...."
He snorts. Hard. Enough to expel a considerable gob of mucus from one nostril, the clear and red spotted excess wiped along the back of a fingerless gray glove, his after-murmurs lost in a hum drug of mumbling and murmurs.
"...It's a free country ain't it?"
[Luana Kirchmann] He rants and she watches, the lift of her eyebrow is far too slight to be seen over the distance, her attempt at keeping a neutral expression is successful enough. The cigarette is smoking away down by her side, where her hand rests loosely.
"It is," she agrees.
The mucus is what did it, turning the possibility of someone just having a bad day to a possible drug abuser. There's a big difference between the two, however misunderstood it may be, and her better knowledge tells her to move along. Experience, at her age, is what keeps her alive.
This doesn't stop that her senses, her gut, is pulled in two directions.
If it were a club, more would be said, a joke about the situation. But it's the street and a rather desolate one at that. Which leaves her taking another drag from her cigarette and resuming her walk, fully intending on leaving him to his own devices.
[Linus] "Oye."
Like some cockney chump. He leans forward slightly, wincing with the movement, crouched now, chin to tucked up knees, eyes still thin as slits in regard of the young woman wandering by. A hand moves out, bouncing in the air, stretching short the sleeves of the gray long coat. The pair of tails from a similarly coloured scarf pull free of his neck to dangle on one side of him, even as he grunts it again.
"Oye!" And the hand bounces with it's flickering fingers.
"Gimme a smoke."
[Luana Kirchmann] Having stopped when he hollered at her, she glanced towards him again. "Please," she says. "The word is please." Her tone is dry and humourless, but she's sticking her cigarette to her mouth and fetching her packet of cigarettes from her jacket pocket along with the lighter.
Approaching with both in one hand, she offered them out to him, not bothering to give him just a singular one like some Scrooge, but allowing him to fetch out his own while she waits for him to return it. Her own cigarette is back in hand by then, and she's exhaled a stream of stinking smoke up into the night air.
Her eyes are a dull olive green, still paler then the shadow of her eyes and brows. She doesn't look away from him as she waits expectantly.
[Linus] He waits for her to get in range and plucks the pack from her expectant hand. Not greedily, or even fiercely, as if they were going to be stolen. It is much more comfortable and irritably hurried, suggestive of a need for one faster than she had offered, the 'Please' comment given over to little more than a flap of the tongue out in some childish split second.
He doesn't use both hands. Simply grips half of the pack's opening and turns it upside down, dumping out three of the Cancer deliveries onto the stone steps beside his booted feet. He rights the cigarettes, flips the top shut with his thumb and then hucks the pack back toward her with a distracted nod and reaching fingers seeking out the first of the three.
"Thanks." The wince creeps back again in again, as he takes the lighter up next and flicks a flame beneath the white stick, sucking back gingerly, until he's satisfied it's a cherry and not a spark. The first inhale is minor, as is the exhale. The thin slit eyes catch up to her again though, now through a vague miasma of mist clouding his features and head.
"...Name's Linus..." One eye closes, allowing the other to open a tad wider. Compensation in action. "What's with the accent? You new?"
[Luana Kirchmann] She watches him use only the one hand but doesn't offer to aid him in any way. Impassively observing, she takes her cigarettes and lighter back from him, dropping them into her jacket pocket again. Having stepped back, there's a small distance between them, enough to continue speaking but not making her very personable. Maybe she's aware of how the doors aren't that far from where she is and how easily she could be carted off into the darkness.
"You're welcome, Linus."
Taking a drag from her own, she leaves her other hand to wrap loosely about her waist, fingers clinging to the inward curve of her waist. "New?" she repeats, raising her brows as her mouth curves upward, "Do I look new?" Bemused at his choice of word, the slang of it.
[Linus] A flick of a glance, up and down.
Then a second time, slower and openly appreciative if we're being courteous about our terminology.
"Sure." A flash of a grin, broad and shameless, followed by a quick secondary drag that has him wincing again, cheeks puffing slightly in an attempt to resist a cough and the resultant pain that would no doubt erupt from it. A moment or two and he breathes outwards shakily, the last few wisps of smoke a collection of unintelligible mutterings.
"New enough anyway. Maybe some russian model? Slovakian? Czech-" The last, spoken like some up-tight executive irritably seeking out the restaurant bill, complete with a flick of a hand writing with an imaginary pen.
"fresh off the boat and looking for the great Amerikaan dream she heard so much about in her small village in Podunk Koleshnakov?"
Another drag. Another exhale.
"...Or whatever you call it."
[Luana Kirchmann] He looks her over, and she doesn't change or shift her posture. It doesn't make her uncomfortable and nor does she preen like a peacock.
"Vienna, actually," she corrects him, secretly enjoying watching him flounder around. He's amusing her, better then most of the dreary bums around. He has a sense of humour that's as dry as her own, it seems, and she can appreciate that.
Then: "Austria." Her mouth quirks before she takes one of the last few drags from her cigarette and drops into an easy crouch, balanced in short heels boots to smother out the filter.
"Are you hurt, Linus? In need of some help?" Flicking her gaze up at where he sits as she makes sure the cigarette is no longer smoking, and uncurls herself from that temporary ball.
[Linus] "That too." In answer to 'Vienna'.
"That's somewhere in the south, right? One of the big islands? Kangaroos 'n shit? Funny I thought you'd sound more like this guy I saw in a movie once. Croc skins 'n knives like the teeth of a Kraken." In return to 'Austria'.
"Yeah, a little. My girlfriend broke up with me a couple of days ago and i've been aching ever since. Nothing seems to help, Doc I gotta say..." A 'schucks' sort of grimace creeps onto his features, followed closely by a sigh that fails only marginally to hide the 'fucking with you' smile.
"Any advice?" A peek from out of the corner of his eye, the cigarette hung from his lower lip by it's saliva adhesive filter.
[Frost] It's a chilly night and her black duster is buttoned, silvery hair a stark contrast to the dark clothes. She tugs her fedora a bit more towards her brows as she strides down the street, her booted feet clumping softly on the pavement, long stride eating up the distance even though she's not walking especially fast.
[Luana Kirchmann] Brows draw faintly together as she tries to figure out what he's going on about when he's talking about Vienna being an island and croc skins come into play. Kangaroos more or less seal the deal but it's not as funny as his earlier remarks, and it earns him one of those classic deadpan looks and a glance away.
Sweeping her gaze across the street, she takes in her surrounds before looking back towards him, as he's going on about girlfriends and calling her doctor. He didn't need to give her such a smile, though, it didn't take Einstein to figure it out.
"A bottle of cheap vodka, or two, should sort out any of your problems."
[Kora] The church - cathedral, really, given the size, the neo-gothic splendor of it - has been abandoned thirty years or so, and looks it. There are trees crowding the sideyard, the leaves changing now, falling, yellow and brown, but still concealing the sand-colored stone. Two days ago the trees were bristling with leaves. Now, after a day and a half of wild weather and whipping winds, only a quarter remain.
There's a chill in the air, rain and the promise of more. Wind and the promise of tornados here in the middle plains, blizzards in the north.
Those doors not far behind Linus open. Despite the building's long-abandonment, the hinges do not creak or squeal warning. The heavy wooden doors, banded in rusting iron, swing open. There's a girl behind them - young woman, really - wearing old jeans, heavy black boots, and layer of clothes, the hems of a black t-shirt and white thermal visible underneath a cotton hoodie with horizontal bands in varying shades of saturated blues, a few hues duller than turquiose but still in that family. She has the hood pulled up tonight, her hands in the front pockets, adding bulk to the layers of clothing wrapping her narrow shoulders and lean torso. Wisps of blonde hair escape from the hood.
Her footsteps are far from silent, and there's noise from the movement of the doors even with the silence from the well-oiled, recently repaired hinges. Two steps and she's nudging Linus, her knee against his shoulder, before shooting a brief, weavering sort of look at Luana.
"Didn't know you smoked - " she tells Linus, low-voiced, reaching over him familiarly to try to steal the cigarette from his mouth. There's a curl to her mouth, a certain archness as she finishes with, " - filthy habit, that."
[Linus] "...You ain't the only Rebel, bay-bee..."
He says with a squint eyed Clint Eastwood flare, glancing over his shoulder at Kora as she enters the moment with a clap of heels and rippling glance from turf, to territory, to intruder(s).
Linus, for his part, snaps a glance back toward Luana, those his head is still tilted back to encompass Kora as she plucks the smoke from his lip for her very own. Linus, the gentleman that he is, picks up one of the remaining two by his feet and pops it into the corner of his mouth, a hand roaming back out toward Luana with a flicking thumb over a curled fist; The International sign for 'Lighter, please'.
"I was just sharing my woeful woman troubles with the lovely Ms. Austrian Model chick here who in turn was informing me she couldn't wait to share a bottle of Vodka by way of a cure to said woes."
He flicks a grin over his shoulder at Kora.
"Ain't that smart 'n sweet of her?" And then a wince as he stretches a little too far, eyes closing against some internal pain that has him wrapping and arm more snugly about his mid-section.
"...Ain't that..." A hand lifts, pointing toward the leggy creature wandering down the Sidewalk a block or so down the way, Frost given a brief, attentive glance of semi-recognition (the only kind Linus seems capable of) before. If the lighter appears somewhere in the midst of all this, he would only now take it and flick it's flame beneath the cigarette in his mouth.
[Frost] The tall woman's steps fall silent as she steps off the pavement and into the grass to walk a bit closer to the river. Her eyes follow the reflection of the half moon and a hand goes up to steady her hat when gusty breeze threatens to steal it away. She idly wonders if there are any fish in the water or if its too polluted for them. She pauses for a few minutes to observe what the city considers a scenic view. Maybe it's more scenic in the spring.
[Luana Kirchmann] When the doors open, she looks up to where Kora emerges. If she's surprised it doesn't show, and she watches the interaction between the two of them, slipping her used filter into her pocket just as Kora is telling Linus that it's a filthy habit.
She doesn't refuse Linus a lighter, or even bother correcting anything about sharing vodka's, because that actually sounded like a decent idea. Not around here, of course, there wasn't any bars that would do her well. Now that Kora had shown up, Linus clearly familiar with her, the bars here sounds more possible. If there was trouble, surely, the Garou would step in.
"Hello Kora." The Kinswoman offered her a small smile, inclining her head in this short, slow nod. There's a dim gleam of mirth in her gaze as she regards the two of them.
[Kora] Now she's holding a lit cigarette, neatly, this gesture, between her thumb and forefinger. No matter how many years go by between smoking and not-smoking, one's body still remembers those long-ingrained gestures. And she quit, years ago one dark night underneath the city of Edinburgh. Never touched another except to pluck it out of another's mouth.
She holds that damn cigarette like she remembers how, though, her curving mouth twisting up at the right corner, wry. When Linus plucks up another smoke, lights it, she flicks him familiarly on the crown of his head. They are intimate with each other, that old familiarity returning, but it's the intimacy of rival, cousins, sibling, maybe just packmates.
"Models are taller, I think," Kora informs Linus absently, still holding (not smoking) her cigarette. "Also - " now that Linus has another one lit in his mouth, she just pinches off the cherry of the smoke with a neat scissoring of her fingers, lets the burning embers fall to the stone steps before she stomps them out. " - I quit." Four years ago, more than, though she doesn't say that.
The deployment of her name brings a sharper look from the Skald. Maybe it is the failing light, but recognition swims across her face a moment later. "Luana," Kora says, both as a greeting, and an introduction. Handing the now-extinguished cigarette back to Linus, she continues, " - kin. And Frost - " looking up over Luana's shoulder, lifting a hand by way of greeting, or invitation. " - ditto, but Fenrir."
[Kora] "And," back to Linus. " - if you really need to forget, I'd go with Scotch if you've money enough for a decent one, or tequila if you don't. Who are you drinking to forget, anyway?"
[Linus] "Don't be so stereotypical." In reference to 'Models are taller'. Accompanied by a grin.
Then-
Luana. Kin-
"Oh for fuck's sake..." Grumpy. Cranky. Irritable. The Rage plumes off him, like some ice sheet skating abruptly from a slanted roof. He huffs, head shaking, jaw pushed forward and down like he might grow tusks at any moment.
"I swear to Gaia's great fucking bounty, Kora, every girl I hit on in this fucking city is a nether-hexed Kin!" He throws up his hands, in time to look at the cigarette Kora hand's back, spitting another cloud of cancer smoke in retrieving it. The (now) lit cigarette, bounces perilously on his lower lip, the wince returning to his features, stuffed angrily into the corner of his mouth and left there to hang like he were caught on a fishhook.
"Hi." Cheery in that 'Fuck My life' sort of way, he smiles broadly at Luana before returning to his sulking settle of chin on tucked in knees.
[Frost] Her detour is short and soon her boots find the pavement again, pale eyes picking out the trio in front of the old abandoned church. A suspicious sight if ever there was one. The wind ruffles the hem of her coat as a hand is raised amongst the group and she replies with an up nod, her path taking a more direct approach towards the small gathering. "Evening," she says as she draws near. She doesn't raise her voice although many would with still some little distance between them. There is no doubt n her mind they will hear her.
[Frost] "Bad timing?" she asks, eyes skating down to the fuming gentleman on the ground. Isn't his ass freezing? A hint of a smile for Kora and a curious look at the woman she hasn't met yet.
[Linus] "...Fucking Nether-hexed! The lot of you!"
He shouts it. Loudly. At Frost. Then continues muttering to himself while the three women stand about.
[Luana Kirchmann] Lowering her head, glancing down to the steps at Linus' feet, she had laughed under her breath, smiling openly as he starts to cuss out and his Rage spikes upward. When she looks up, that mirth is brighter yet, lingering in the depths of eyes more then anywhere else on her lean, pale features.
Gesturing to the step, "Mind if I sit?" Now that she's figuring out he's not some drug addicted moron sitting on the church steps, and that there's a Garou right here that she has met, albeit briefly, before, Luana is comfortable enough to ask to make herself comfortable in their territory.
Presuming they don't have a problem with that, she's moving over to claim a seat, neither close to Linus or blocking Kora's way. She sits down, dusting her hands off after she braced herself to ease comfortably. Legs cross, even sitting out here in some shitty neighbourhood in the cold, and she fixes her jacket to fit neatly instead of bulk in her lap.
Casting a glance to Linus' broad smile and cheery hi, she had chuckled. "It's good to meet you Linus." This seems a little more formal from her, before she's glancing up at the very tall, very blonde Frost, finding herself nodding in greeting.
Nothing like a six foot Scandinavian to make her feel tiny. Thankfully, she's comfortable in her own skin, confident even.
Linus shouts, Luana casts a glance over to him, raising her brows. "Bit dramatic, aren't you?"
[Linus] "Shad up."
Muddled at Luana, like some mob boss with an bad accent and everything, out the corner of his mouth.
[Frost] Netherhexed is she? No doubt. She smirks. "Got dumped huh?" Her eyes move up to Kora, checking her stance and queuing on her body language for hints to what's going on.
[Kora] "You poor thing," Kora says rather patly to Linus, as if he had just informed her that the grocery store was out of his favorite flavor of ice cream, and he had to settle for second best. She's standing, one foot on the top-most step, one foot on the portico of the old church, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together to get rid of the last clinging bits of tobacco from the pads of both, after pinching the burning end of the cigarette she filched from her brother. That acrid scent of half-burned together is sharp against her fingers, in the cold air.
"Frost, this woebegotten creature is my brother, Linus. Linus, this is Frost. Say hello." As if he were four years old. " - he's having romantic troubles, or a lack thereof. I'm not sure which." Another familiar nudge, her knee against her brother's shoulder, not minding his hidden aches and pains. " - and this is Luana, also kin. And this," a tip of her head back toward the church behind him, " - is our packhouse. You're both welcome. There's beer in there, and a thermos of hot chocolate if you need to warm up."
[Kora] (brb folks!)
[Linus] He elbows Kora in the knee at the 'nudging', pulling a face (like a four year old) before turning to Frost and offering a nod and a two-finger wave from the top of his brow.
"You kidding me? We're not allowed to-Ow..." He's half-standing, bowed slightly and gritting his teeth. Both hands fold over his mid-section, even as he straightens. Slowly. Breathing outward with each increment of motion. Frost is the tallest amongst them, though Linus seems only an inch or more less.
The long gray coat dips to his ankles, unbuttoned and hiding the trailing remains of a gray scarf wrapped enigmatically about his neck and shoulders. His head is shaved near down to the scalp, a thin layer of dark brown stubble remaining, though this is hidden suddenly by the donning of a dark black cap, slanted slightly left.
"We weren't allowed to Mate, Fuck, Date, Sleep with, Hold hands or buddy up much with the Kin back home. Was considered a 'Waste' on the low ranks." He says it not with scorn or displeasure, but firm faith and acceptance.
"Those of us fresh off the bus shouldn't be tied up like that when we're still learning how to Die properly."
He shrugs his shoulders, more an indication of the cold than a sudden lack of caring, features thrusting into a scowl.
"Doesn't say much about normal girls though I'm beginning to think this entire fucking city's one big Kin festival meant to convince me that Metis' have the right idea."
[Luana Kirchmann] Leaning forward, she extends a hand upwards to Frost. "Nice to meet you," she tells the other politely. She has a clear accent, the sort that comes right off the boat. Her English is excellent though, being that English is taught through the education system as one of the most universal languages there is.
After shaking hands, she tucks her own back into a pocket to keep warm, left to glance up now that everyone is standing and she's the only one sitting. Linus talks about how it is for Garou and Kinfolk, the lines that have crossed here and Chicago, and there are plenty of those.
She doesn't offer comment, perhaps wisely.
[Frost] She offers a gloved hand to Luana and shakes briefly. She has a grasp that fits her stature although it's not crushing. With the delicate woman sitting Frost can't really avoid towering over her. "Pleasure to meet you Luana." She meets her eyes to give the comment meaning then glances over the gathering, raising a brow at this man being Kora's little brother. "Well, I'd say the gents are out numbered tonight. I'm up for something warm to drink. How about if we gals get together inside and drown poor Linus here in estrogen?" Giving Linus an amused look as she responds to his mini-rant.
[Linus] "I'd comment here, wryly, I might add..." His hand begins to pinwheel in the air before him, eyes shifting upward in thought.
"Something about kitchens and your place, but then you're Tribe-" He grins and flicks his eyebrows up, before casting a glance around the trio "-So yeah. Her suggestion. Warm drinks with generous booze inquiries and the like and-...wait, do we have any Booze?"
He turns around at Kora, frowning openly. Honestly, for once.
"Oh say we do, dear sister?"
[Linus] (flicks his eyebrows up at Frost^)
[Kora] "Chicago's different," she replies, her voice a layered alto, neither husky nor intimate, just easy, just confident. There's a casual lightness to her tone that belies the discussion, and now she at last - sits down, on the steps, at the top. Her feet are planted two steps lower, and though her spine is straight, her shoulders level, she's leaning forward to rest her forearms on her lower thighs, just above her knees, presenting a lower profile to the cold wind.
Those clouds are clearing out now. Kora glances up once, at whatever she can see of the living sky beyond the glare of the city's (neglected) streetlights, until she picks out a single, riveting star - the brightest in the sky, and a planet though she does not know that - then looks back at them. "Here, you don't have time to learn before you die properly." - there's a certain solemnity to that. "Even Fosterns are few and far between. Except for Kemp-rhya and Lila," humming around the word. Kora's been looking for the Child of Gaia. If she doesn't find her soon, she's going back to someplace like home to challenge for rank. "I've not seen the rest of the ranked Garou outside of moots, or the odd challenge at the Caern.
" - so things are different. It's not like the Sept of Vindur und Ringing either. And - " a faint, wry glance at Frost, then Luana, " - you needn't mate, sleep with, fuck, date, or hold hands with every kinswoman you meet, Linus. Only the really exciting ones." Standing, then, with a fish-hook grin, half for her brother, half for the kinswomen.
" - there's booze. We're Fenrir. C'mon," and so saying, she pushes herself to her feet and turns back to the church.
[Frost] "Alright then. Welcome to dysfunction junction," she chuckles as she climbs the steps and heads in out of the cold after Kora.
[Luana Kirchmann] Instead of offering her own thoughts on it, she throws her lot in with the idea of booze, and pushes herself up from the steps after Kora has. Luana had listened quietly and without interruption, absorbing the ways of the Get of Fenris, their thoughts on Chicago, and kept hers to herself.
Dusting off her jacket and jean behind, she made her way up the steps and into the abandoned church, which mustn't be too abandoned given the fact that a pack of Garou has taken up residence, complete with places for booze.
Inside, she looks around as she wanders after the others, not minding to trail behind. She glanced up to admire the architecture. Nothing was quite like home, of course. Nothing was near as grand on this side of the world, but little places like this had its own charm.
[Linus] "Everyone's all chuckles 'n shit tonight." Sarcastic, eye-rolling. "S'fucking hysterical, lemme tell ya."
He catches Kora's grin and snaps off one of his own in response, gingerly clutching his ribs again whilst following her inside.
[Kora] A handful of salvaged tables are arrayed around beneath the shelter of the choir loft. Deeper in the structure are fire places they've cleaned out for use in the bleak midwinter. For now, though, with the temperatures still well-above freezing, they make due with a handful of heaters, an electric one with an extension cord snaking away into drkness is set among the tables. After heaving open the wood doors, holding them long enough for Linus to play host to the kinswoman, Kora walks deeper into the church and flicks it on. The ceramic coils heat up quickly, going from beige to a sort of molten orange in a matter of seconds, with the low hum of the fan behind to spread the heat.
Two pizza boxes, one with one cold slice, another with two slightly warmer slices, top one of the tables. Three or four coolers are scattered around, and Kora searches out two of them, toeing them out from under the old tables with her toe. One is full of beer, a variety from pale eyes to Oktoberfest to deep, richly colored stouts. Mostly local, all microbrews or imports. With all the money they save in rent on this place -
- the other has two or three bottles of hard liquor, whiskey, rum, and tequila. The beer is sunk is ice, but the liquor bottles are not iced. Just kept inside the cooler to keep the vermin out, to keep the birds given free reign through the rafters by way of chiminage from stealing a shiny lid and smashing them on the stone and marble floor.
The needn't sit on the cold stone floor, though. A pair of salvaged pews are set out, like couches, and someone has hooked a hammock from one of the stone niches over to the balustrade. A recently salvaged giant bean-bag chair completes the haphazard ensemble. "We need a fridge, man - " Kora tells Linus, absently as she shuttles through the coolers, naming off the brews, then leaving the coolers open for them to have their pick.
She pours herself a mug of hot chocolate from a large thermos into a heavy ceramic stein that doubles as a mug, and offers the rest to whoever wants it.
[Linus] Linus grabs one of the beers, a lager with nothing terribly heavy in it's brew or reputation. He does a quick grunt (pain) shimmy of the bottles from the cooler to the table top, until six rest near the pizza boxes, each of varying quality and kind found within. Linus grunts again, standing once more from the Coolers.
He eyes the pews-
"-And some fucking throw pillows or something-" Followed closely by a glance toward the stainglass and windows.
"You have any idea how cold it's going to get in here during winters? You won't need a fridge, Sis."
The beer is popped open and Linus takes a seat on the pew, shifting uncomfortably before grunting, bearing it and taking a slug of the brew.
"How's Trent by the way?"
[Frost] Frost takes the thermos and fills the cap setting the cannister on one of the tables then taking a long look around at the arrangement. Somehow there doesn't seem to be anything blasphemous in the use the garou have put this place to. What better use than to shelter the defenders of creation? If anything, they've given the place grace and meaning where it had none after standing empty for how long?
[Kora] "I know," she says, her mouth curling, that mug in hand as if she were quaffing some strong, traditional brew rather than a cup full of milk and chocolate. Then, tipping her head back, she glances up at the ceiling defined by the choir loft. " - I figure, see, we can hang some blankets or something, tarps, yeah? all along there. We'll have a couple of electric heaters, and that'll make this area - not warm, but tolerable, right? Then there are all those old classrooms and the priest's apartments and whatnot toward the back. Easier to keep those warm, between the fireplaces and whatever heaters we can scrounge up."
The faintest of shrugs, as she studies the stained glass set high in the stone walls, a hint of light shining through from the city beyond, casting strange shadows on the stone floors. " - The walls are pretty thick, sturdy. I don't think it'll be impossible to heat enough rooms to keep us warm. Last winter," another curl of memory, " - I lived in this storage unit that Kemp-rhya had rigged up. After that, in this junkyard, before we came here. And gods, Li," on learning that he's wanting throw pillows. " - you're Fenrir. Suck it up."
She's grinning, though it stills a bit when he asks about Trent. "He's fine," quiet, that, followed by a glance at Frost. "How are you settling into your assignment here?"
[Luana Kirchmann] Helping herself to one of the stout, Luana finds herself sitting on one of the chairs closer to where everyone has gathered, listening to Linus and Kora talk. The two kinfolk seem relatively quiet for the moment, looking over the packs choice of homes in the neighourborhood. Now that was done, she's watching the two Garou, both Fenrir.
Drinking from the beer washes the taste of stale tobacco from her mouth, a welcomed taste that she swallows down with a single, slow gulp. A glance down checks over the label, fingers turning the bottle so she can read it over, remember the name to match it to the flavor another time. Whether it was to have another or avoid it wasn't very clear.
"Don't you have any Kinfolk that support you?" Luana finally speaks up, glancing from Kora to Linus and back again.
[Frost] She purses her lips, wondering over the struggle for basic survival and protection from the elements, finding Luana's question apt. "I'm settling in. They have me on a gang warfare team at the moment. Still setting up contacts and such."
[Luana Kirchmann] Glancing over to Frost, Luana asked, blatantly. "What is it that you do?"
[Frost] "I'm FBI." Keeping it short and to the point.
[Linus] "...So she gets us the good drugs when we need 'em and fixes our parking tickets when we need to throw a honda at a Spiral, wrecking Madison and Fifth..." In reference to Frost's occupation.
He continues supping at his beer, eyes flicking up to Kora.
"Fenrir does not equal Suffering for the Rush, you nit. You do whatever you think it is you need to do. Personally, I'm gonna see if I can get one of the Fire giants to invest...in...the...build...ing..."
Linus eyes are steadily beginning to narrow as that sentence peters out, almost as if he were remembering something or...trying to. He leans forward, slapping his beer on the table, hard enough to slosh some over his hand and the table's surface. The narrowed eyes are growing thinner as the moment ticks by and then-
"...Fuck me."
And suddenly, just like that, Linus is standing, face a storm cloud, mouth clapping off curse words and phrases wholly unsuitable to the ears of Female, Male, Child or any kind, really. At one point he seems to be speaking in the crackling of fires and snapping of logs turned to brittle tinder in Heat. A spatter of Spirit's tongue and then-
Pop!
He's gone, a vacuum of air sucking tenderly at lungs and lips as reality seeks to fill the space he left so suddenly behind...
...and oddly enough still, the air in the Church seems to have grown a touch warmer. Enough to unbutton the coat or doff the sweater. Comfortable, if a little strange.
(Gotta get to bed. Work tomorrow folks. Thanks for the Scenage!)
[Kora] "Kemp was pretty insistent on paying his own way - " a brief, sweeping glance at Luana, a quiet look as her dark eyes drift down from the soaring architecture of the place. Kora - whose names is also Sorrow - has this musing look, remembrance wreathing her sharp features, her fine jaw, her mobile mouth, making her seem both softer and somehow more distant. "I'm not.
"But I think pack should stay together in a city like this, have a home base that isn't - " and here, a flashing sort of distaste across her features, shoulders twisting underneath the hoodie, the hood falling down and bringing with it the architecture of her twisted hair. " - weaverbound. We have some kin to help us, yeah. I like this place, though. The splendor and the ruin of it. Sometimes - on the other side - you can hear echoes of old prayers. The belltower's high, too, with a great view of the territory, and the building is old enough, memorable enough, to be solid in the spirit world, or close to it. The pack that was here before us had a different packhouse, but the old Alpha warned us away. I figure," a glance here at Linus, " - Silence-rhya still sees that as his territory."
Then, as she finishes off her hot chocolate,
"Listen, you can stay as long as you like. I gotta track down Roman. We have some talking to do."
[Luana Kirchmann] Since the two Garou head off to do their own thing, it makes no sense for her to be hanging out in their pack territory. Not long after, with an appreciative murmur to Frost about her line of work, Luana will be heading off on her own way, exchanging numbers for those that want them.
He sits on Church steps regarding skies, painted clean gray. The grays of ash, burned pure, if useless. The grays of ghosts, mere echoes and harmless. The grays of imagination, fortitude and mental states devoid of fuel to give substance to thought. It is a welcome fugue and a hideously addictive quality that he seems to delight in taking advantage of.
It helps keep his mind off the pain that riddles ribcages and stomach, if his clutching hands and wrapped arms over gray coats not entirely necessary in the warm(ish) night, are any indication.
A quasi-permanent grimace seems to line his face while the curling presence he projects upon those gray stoop steps before those aging oak doors, is hardly one of power, strength or attitude. It speaks more of pain, displeasure and 'Ow' over anything else.
Still...
His eyes remain above, watching the clouds as if in search of something.
[Luana Kirchmann] She's moving along the street a block, having come down the steps from an apartment condo across the road. Dressed down means Luana is in a pair of jeans, some ankle boot and a closed jacket over a camisole. Dirty blonde hair is loose and layered with a kink to it. The woman isn't very tall, even with the extra inches the heels afford her, and is as petite as they come. But she walks through the neighbourhood as though she belongs, as if the threat of gangs and bad men didn't cross her mind.
At the church, she's paused to light a cigarette with a cheap, plastic lighter, which is dropped into the deep pocket of her jacket after. Inhaling, she plucks the cigarette from her mouth and casts a glance over to where Linus is sitting on the church steps.
From the distance her gaze flicks over him, and the quiet rhythm of her feet on the side walk is slower now, moving at more cautious, or curious, stroll.
"I do not think there are any services held there anymore," she offers with a distinct accent.
[Linus] "Gee, Really?"
It's the beginning.
"...And here I thought I was waiting around for a fucking priest to come along and bless my sinful ass, 'cause it's been kicked up and down the street by a fuckin' hedonistic Carnival Clown who thought it was fuckin' funny to spit for lube!"
A hand lifts, flailing around in the air wildly.
"...And low and fucking Be-hold! I come by the stone steps looking for a little sympathy and what does he tell me?"
A finger jabs into his own chest, eyes thinning to slits at the stopped Blonde.
"That my fucking ways are in the devil! My shit stinks too much and oh yeah? I got circumcised and God's all pissy 'cause I snipped the hood and wear red on Sundays-Yes! I'm pretty fucking aware there's no damned service here...."
He snorts. Hard. Enough to expel a considerable gob of mucus from one nostril, the clear and red spotted excess wiped along the back of a fingerless gray glove, his after-murmurs lost in a hum drug of mumbling and murmurs.
"...It's a free country ain't it?"
[Luana Kirchmann] He rants and she watches, the lift of her eyebrow is far too slight to be seen over the distance, her attempt at keeping a neutral expression is successful enough. The cigarette is smoking away down by her side, where her hand rests loosely.
"It is," she agrees.
The mucus is what did it, turning the possibility of someone just having a bad day to a possible drug abuser. There's a big difference between the two, however misunderstood it may be, and her better knowledge tells her to move along. Experience, at her age, is what keeps her alive.
This doesn't stop that her senses, her gut, is pulled in two directions.
If it were a club, more would be said, a joke about the situation. But it's the street and a rather desolate one at that. Which leaves her taking another drag from her cigarette and resuming her walk, fully intending on leaving him to his own devices.
[Linus] "Oye."
Like some cockney chump. He leans forward slightly, wincing with the movement, crouched now, chin to tucked up knees, eyes still thin as slits in regard of the young woman wandering by. A hand moves out, bouncing in the air, stretching short the sleeves of the gray long coat. The pair of tails from a similarly coloured scarf pull free of his neck to dangle on one side of him, even as he grunts it again.
"Oye!" And the hand bounces with it's flickering fingers.
"Gimme a smoke."
[Luana Kirchmann] Having stopped when he hollered at her, she glanced towards him again. "Please," she says. "The word is please." Her tone is dry and humourless, but she's sticking her cigarette to her mouth and fetching her packet of cigarettes from her jacket pocket along with the lighter.
Approaching with both in one hand, she offered them out to him, not bothering to give him just a singular one like some Scrooge, but allowing him to fetch out his own while she waits for him to return it. Her own cigarette is back in hand by then, and she's exhaled a stream of stinking smoke up into the night air.
Her eyes are a dull olive green, still paler then the shadow of her eyes and brows. She doesn't look away from him as she waits expectantly.
[Linus] He waits for her to get in range and plucks the pack from her expectant hand. Not greedily, or even fiercely, as if they were going to be stolen. It is much more comfortable and irritably hurried, suggestive of a need for one faster than she had offered, the 'Please' comment given over to little more than a flap of the tongue out in some childish split second.
He doesn't use both hands. Simply grips half of the pack's opening and turns it upside down, dumping out three of the Cancer deliveries onto the stone steps beside his booted feet. He rights the cigarettes, flips the top shut with his thumb and then hucks the pack back toward her with a distracted nod and reaching fingers seeking out the first of the three.
"Thanks." The wince creeps back again in again, as he takes the lighter up next and flicks a flame beneath the white stick, sucking back gingerly, until he's satisfied it's a cherry and not a spark. The first inhale is minor, as is the exhale. The thin slit eyes catch up to her again though, now through a vague miasma of mist clouding his features and head.
"...Name's Linus..." One eye closes, allowing the other to open a tad wider. Compensation in action. "What's with the accent? You new?"
[Luana Kirchmann] She watches him use only the one hand but doesn't offer to aid him in any way. Impassively observing, she takes her cigarettes and lighter back from him, dropping them into her jacket pocket again. Having stepped back, there's a small distance between them, enough to continue speaking but not making her very personable. Maybe she's aware of how the doors aren't that far from where she is and how easily she could be carted off into the darkness.
"You're welcome, Linus."
Taking a drag from her own, she leaves her other hand to wrap loosely about her waist, fingers clinging to the inward curve of her waist. "New?" she repeats, raising her brows as her mouth curves upward, "Do I look new?" Bemused at his choice of word, the slang of it.
[Linus] A flick of a glance, up and down.
Then a second time, slower and openly appreciative if we're being courteous about our terminology.
"Sure." A flash of a grin, broad and shameless, followed by a quick secondary drag that has him wincing again, cheeks puffing slightly in an attempt to resist a cough and the resultant pain that would no doubt erupt from it. A moment or two and he breathes outwards shakily, the last few wisps of smoke a collection of unintelligible mutterings.
"New enough anyway. Maybe some russian model? Slovakian? Czech-" The last, spoken like some up-tight executive irritably seeking out the restaurant bill, complete with a flick of a hand writing with an imaginary pen.
"fresh off the boat and looking for the great Amerikaan dream she heard so much about in her small village in Podunk Koleshnakov?"
Another drag. Another exhale.
"...Or whatever you call it."
[Luana Kirchmann] He looks her over, and she doesn't change or shift her posture. It doesn't make her uncomfortable and nor does she preen like a peacock.
"Vienna, actually," she corrects him, secretly enjoying watching him flounder around. He's amusing her, better then most of the dreary bums around. He has a sense of humour that's as dry as her own, it seems, and she can appreciate that.
Then: "Austria." Her mouth quirks before she takes one of the last few drags from her cigarette and drops into an easy crouch, balanced in short heels boots to smother out the filter.
"Are you hurt, Linus? In need of some help?" Flicking her gaze up at where he sits as she makes sure the cigarette is no longer smoking, and uncurls herself from that temporary ball.
[Linus] "That too." In answer to 'Vienna'.
"That's somewhere in the south, right? One of the big islands? Kangaroos 'n shit? Funny I thought you'd sound more like this guy I saw in a movie once. Croc skins 'n knives like the teeth of a Kraken." In return to 'Austria'.
"Yeah, a little. My girlfriend broke up with me a couple of days ago and i've been aching ever since. Nothing seems to help, Doc I gotta say..." A 'schucks' sort of grimace creeps onto his features, followed closely by a sigh that fails only marginally to hide the 'fucking with you' smile.
"Any advice?" A peek from out of the corner of his eye, the cigarette hung from his lower lip by it's saliva adhesive filter.
[Frost] It's a chilly night and her black duster is buttoned, silvery hair a stark contrast to the dark clothes. She tugs her fedora a bit more towards her brows as she strides down the street, her booted feet clumping softly on the pavement, long stride eating up the distance even though she's not walking especially fast.
[Luana Kirchmann] Brows draw faintly together as she tries to figure out what he's going on about when he's talking about Vienna being an island and croc skins come into play. Kangaroos more or less seal the deal but it's not as funny as his earlier remarks, and it earns him one of those classic deadpan looks and a glance away.
Sweeping her gaze across the street, she takes in her surrounds before looking back towards him, as he's going on about girlfriends and calling her doctor. He didn't need to give her such a smile, though, it didn't take Einstein to figure it out.
"A bottle of cheap vodka, or two, should sort out any of your problems."
[Kora] The church - cathedral, really, given the size, the neo-gothic splendor of it - has been abandoned thirty years or so, and looks it. There are trees crowding the sideyard, the leaves changing now, falling, yellow and brown, but still concealing the sand-colored stone. Two days ago the trees were bristling with leaves. Now, after a day and a half of wild weather and whipping winds, only a quarter remain.
There's a chill in the air, rain and the promise of more. Wind and the promise of tornados here in the middle plains, blizzards in the north.
Those doors not far behind Linus open. Despite the building's long-abandonment, the hinges do not creak or squeal warning. The heavy wooden doors, banded in rusting iron, swing open. There's a girl behind them - young woman, really - wearing old jeans, heavy black boots, and layer of clothes, the hems of a black t-shirt and white thermal visible underneath a cotton hoodie with horizontal bands in varying shades of saturated blues, a few hues duller than turquiose but still in that family. She has the hood pulled up tonight, her hands in the front pockets, adding bulk to the layers of clothing wrapping her narrow shoulders and lean torso. Wisps of blonde hair escape from the hood.
Her footsteps are far from silent, and there's noise from the movement of the doors even with the silence from the well-oiled, recently repaired hinges. Two steps and she's nudging Linus, her knee against his shoulder, before shooting a brief, weavering sort of look at Luana.
"Didn't know you smoked - " she tells Linus, low-voiced, reaching over him familiarly to try to steal the cigarette from his mouth. There's a curl to her mouth, a certain archness as she finishes with, " - filthy habit, that."
[Linus] "...You ain't the only Rebel, bay-bee..."
He says with a squint eyed Clint Eastwood flare, glancing over his shoulder at Kora as she enters the moment with a clap of heels and rippling glance from turf, to territory, to intruder(s).
Linus, for his part, snaps a glance back toward Luana, those his head is still tilted back to encompass Kora as she plucks the smoke from his lip for her very own. Linus, the gentleman that he is, picks up one of the remaining two by his feet and pops it into the corner of his mouth, a hand roaming back out toward Luana with a flicking thumb over a curled fist; The International sign for 'Lighter, please'.
"I was just sharing my woeful woman troubles with the lovely Ms. Austrian Model chick here who in turn was informing me she couldn't wait to share a bottle of Vodka by way of a cure to said woes."
He flicks a grin over his shoulder at Kora.
"Ain't that smart 'n sweet of her?" And then a wince as he stretches a little too far, eyes closing against some internal pain that has him wrapping and arm more snugly about his mid-section.
"...Ain't that..." A hand lifts, pointing toward the leggy creature wandering down the Sidewalk a block or so down the way, Frost given a brief, attentive glance of semi-recognition (the only kind Linus seems capable of) before. If the lighter appears somewhere in the midst of all this, he would only now take it and flick it's flame beneath the cigarette in his mouth.
[Frost] The tall woman's steps fall silent as she steps off the pavement and into the grass to walk a bit closer to the river. Her eyes follow the reflection of the half moon and a hand goes up to steady her hat when gusty breeze threatens to steal it away. She idly wonders if there are any fish in the water or if its too polluted for them. She pauses for a few minutes to observe what the city considers a scenic view. Maybe it's more scenic in the spring.
[Luana Kirchmann] When the doors open, she looks up to where Kora emerges. If she's surprised it doesn't show, and she watches the interaction between the two of them, slipping her used filter into her pocket just as Kora is telling Linus that it's a filthy habit.
She doesn't refuse Linus a lighter, or even bother correcting anything about sharing vodka's, because that actually sounded like a decent idea. Not around here, of course, there wasn't any bars that would do her well. Now that Kora had shown up, Linus clearly familiar with her, the bars here sounds more possible. If there was trouble, surely, the Garou would step in.
"Hello Kora." The Kinswoman offered her a small smile, inclining her head in this short, slow nod. There's a dim gleam of mirth in her gaze as she regards the two of them.
[Kora] Now she's holding a lit cigarette, neatly, this gesture, between her thumb and forefinger. No matter how many years go by between smoking and not-smoking, one's body still remembers those long-ingrained gestures. And she quit, years ago one dark night underneath the city of Edinburgh. Never touched another except to pluck it out of another's mouth.
She holds that damn cigarette like she remembers how, though, her curving mouth twisting up at the right corner, wry. When Linus plucks up another smoke, lights it, she flicks him familiarly on the crown of his head. They are intimate with each other, that old familiarity returning, but it's the intimacy of rival, cousins, sibling, maybe just packmates.
"Models are taller, I think," Kora informs Linus absently, still holding (not smoking) her cigarette. "Also - " now that Linus has another one lit in his mouth, she just pinches off the cherry of the smoke with a neat scissoring of her fingers, lets the burning embers fall to the stone steps before she stomps them out. " - I quit." Four years ago, more than, though she doesn't say that.
The deployment of her name brings a sharper look from the Skald. Maybe it is the failing light, but recognition swims across her face a moment later. "Luana," Kora says, both as a greeting, and an introduction. Handing the now-extinguished cigarette back to Linus, she continues, " - kin. And Frost - " looking up over Luana's shoulder, lifting a hand by way of greeting, or invitation. " - ditto, but Fenrir."
[Kora] "And," back to Linus. " - if you really need to forget, I'd go with Scotch if you've money enough for a decent one, or tequila if you don't. Who are you drinking to forget, anyway?"
[Linus] "Don't be so stereotypical." In reference to 'Models are taller'. Accompanied by a grin.
Then-
Luana. Kin-
"Oh for fuck's sake..." Grumpy. Cranky. Irritable. The Rage plumes off him, like some ice sheet skating abruptly from a slanted roof. He huffs, head shaking, jaw pushed forward and down like he might grow tusks at any moment.
"I swear to Gaia's great fucking bounty, Kora, every girl I hit on in this fucking city is a nether-hexed Kin!" He throws up his hands, in time to look at the cigarette Kora hand's back, spitting another cloud of cancer smoke in retrieving it. The (now) lit cigarette, bounces perilously on his lower lip, the wince returning to his features, stuffed angrily into the corner of his mouth and left there to hang like he were caught on a fishhook.
"Hi." Cheery in that 'Fuck My life' sort of way, he smiles broadly at Luana before returning to his sulking settle of chin on tucked in knees.
[Frost] Her detour is short and soon her boots find the pavement again, pale eyes picking out the trio in front of the old abandoned church. A suspicious sight if ever there was one. The wind ruffles the hem of her coat as a hand is raised amongst the group and she replies with an up nod, her path taking a more direct approach towards the small gathering. "Evening," she says as she draws near. She doesn't raise her voice although many would with still some little distance between them. There is no doubt n her mind they will hear her.
[Frost] "Bad timing?" she asks, eyes skating down to the fuming gentleman on the ground. Isn't his ass freezing? A hint of a smile for Kora and a curious look at the woman she hasn't met yet.
[Linus] "...Fucking Nether-hexed! The lot of you!"
He shouts it. Loudly. At Frost. Then continues muttering to himself while the three women stand about.
[Luana Kirchmann] Lowering her head, glancing down to the steps at Linus' feet, she had laughed under her breath, smiling openly as he starts to cuss out and his Rage spikes upward. When she looks up, that mirth is brighter yet, lingering in the depths of eyes more then anywhere else on her lean, pale features.
Gesturing to the step, "Mind if I sit?" Now that she's figuring out he's not some drug addicted moron sitting on the church steps, and that there's a Garou right here that she has met, albeit briefly, before, Luana is comfortable enough to ask to make herself comfortable in their territory.
Presuming they don't have a problem with that, she's moving over to claim a seat, neither close to Linus or blocking Kora's way. She sits down, dusting her hands off after she braced herself to ease comfortably. Legs cross, even sitting out here in some shitty neighbourhood in the cold, and she fixes her jacket to fit neatly instead of bulk in her lap.
Casting a glance to Linus' broad smile and cheery hi, she had chuckled. "It's good to meet you Linus." This seems a little more formal from her, before she's glancing up at the very tall, very blonde Frost, finding herself nodding in greeting.
Nothing like a six foot Scandinavian to make her feel tiny. Thankfully, she's comfortable in her own skin, confident even.
Linus shouts, Luana casts a glance over to him, raising her brows. "Bit dramatic, aren't you?"
[Linus] "Shad up."
Muddled at Luana, like some mob boss with an bad accent and everything, out the corner of his mouth.
[Frost] Netherhexed is she? No doubt. She smirks. "Got dumped huh?" Her eyes move up to Kora, checking her stance and queuing on her body language for hints to what's going on.
[Kora] "You poor thing," Kora says rather patly to Linus, as if he had just informed her that the grocery store was out of his favorite flavor of ice cream, and he had to settle for second best. She's standing, one foot on the top-most step, one foot on the portico of the old church, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together to get rid of the last clinging bits of tobacco from the pads of both, after pinching the burning end of the cigarette she filched from her brother. That acrid scent of half-burned together is sharp against her fingers, in the cold air.
"Frost, this woebegotten creature is my brother, Linus. Linus, this is Frost. Say hello." As if he were four years old. " - he's having romantic troubles, or a lack thereof. I'm not sure which." Another familiar nudge, her knee against her brother's shoulder, not minding his hidden aches and pains. " - and this is Luana, also kin. And this," a tip of her head back toward the church behind him, " - is our packhouse. You're both welcome. There's beer in there, and a thermos of hot chocolate if you need to warm up."
[Kora] (brb folks!)
[Linus] He elbows Kora in the knee at the 'nudging', pulling a face (like a four year old) before turning to Frost and offering a nod and a two-finger wave from the top of his brow.
"You kidding me? We're not allowed to-Ow..." He's half-standing, bowed slightly and gritting his teeth. Both hands fold over his mid-section, even as he straightens. Slowly. Breathing outward with each increment of motion. Frost is the tallest amongst them, though Linus seems only an inch or more less.
The long gray coat dips to his ankles, unbuttoned and hiding the trailing remains of a gray scarf wrapped enigmatically about his neck and shoulders. His head is shaved near down to the scalp, a thin layer of dark brown stubble remaining, though this is hidden suddenly by the donning of a dark black cap, slanted slightly left.
"We weren't allowed to Mate, Fuck, Date, Sleep with, Hold hands or buddy up much with the Kin back home. Was considered a 'Waste' on the low ranks." He says it not with scorn or displeasure, but firm faith and acceptance.
"Those of us fresh off the bus shouldn't be tied up like that when we're still learning how to Die properly."
He shrugs his shoulders, more an indication of the cold than a sudden lack of caring, features thrusting into a scowl.
"Doesn't say much about normal girls though I'm beginning to think this entire fucking city's one big Kin festival meant to convince me that Metis' have the right idea."
[Luana Kirchmann] Leaning forward, she extends a hand upwards to Frost. "Nice to meet you," she tells the other politely. She has a clear accent, the sort that comes right off the boat. Her English is excellent though, being that English is taught through the education system as one of the most universal languages there is.
After shaking hands, she tucks her own back into a pocket to keep warm, left to glance up now that everyone is standing and she's the only one sitting. Linus talks about how it is for Garou and Kinfolk, the lines that have crossed here and Chicago, and there are plenty of those.
She doesn't offer comment, perhaps wisely.
[Frost] She offers a gloved hand to Luana and shakes briefly. She has a grasp that fits her stature although it's not crushing. With the delicate woman sitting Frost can't really avoid towering over her. "Pleasure to meet you Luana." She meets her eyes to give the comment meaning then glances over the gathering, raising a brow at this man being Kora's little brother. "Well, I'd say the gents are out numbered tonight. I'm up for something warm to drink. How about if we gals get together inside and drown poor Linus here in estrogen?" Giving Linus an amused look as she responds to his mini-rant.
[Linus] "I'd comment here, wryly, I might add..." His hand begins to pinwheel in the air before him, eyes shifting upward in thought.
"Something about kitchens and your place, but then you're Tribe-" He grins and flicks his eyebrows up, before casting a glance around the trio "-So yeah. Her suggestion. Warm drinks with generous booze inquiries and the like and-...wait, do we have any Booze?"
He turns around at Kora, frowning openly. Honestly, for once.
"Oh say we do, dear sister?"
[Linus] (flicks his eyebrows up at Frost^)
[Kora] "Chicago's different," she replies, her voice a layered alto, neither husky nor intimate, just easy, just confident. There's a casual lightness to her tone that belies the discussion, and now she at last - sits down, on the steps, at the top. Her feet are planted two steps lower, and though her spine is straight, her shoulders level, she's leaning forward to rest her forearms on her lower thighs, just above her knees, presenting a lower profile to the cold wind.
Those clouds are clearing out now. Kora glances up once, at whatever she can see of the living sky beyond the glare of the city's (neglected) streetlights, until she picks out a single, riveting star - the brightest in the sky, and a planet though she does not know that - then looks back at them. "Here, you don't have time to learn before you die properly." - there's a certain solemnity to that. "Even Fosterns are few and far between. Except for Kemp-rhya and Lila," humming around the word. Kora's been looking for the Child of Gaia. If she doesn't find her soon, she's going back to someplace like home to challenge for rank. "I've not seen the rest of the ranked Garou outside of moots, or the odd challenge at the Caern.
" - so things are different. It's not like the Sept of Vindur und Ringing either. And - " a faint, wry glance at Frost, then Luana, " - you needn't mate, sleep with, fuck, date, or hold hands with every kinswoman you meet, Linus. Only the really exciting ones." Standing, then, with a fish-hook grin, half for her brother, half for the kinswomen.
" - there's booze. We're Fenrir. C'mon," and so saying, she pushes herself to her feet and turns back to the church.
[Frost] "Alright then. Welcome to dysfunction junction," she chuckles as she climbs the steps and heads in out of the cold after Kora.
[Luana Kirchmann] Instead of offering her own thoughts on it, she throws her lot in with the idea of booze, and pushes herself up from the steps after Kora has. Luana had listened quietly and without interruption, absorbing the ways of the Get of Fenris, their thoughts on Chicago, and kept hers to herself.
Dusting off her jacket and jean behind, she made her way up the steps and into the abandoned church, which mustn't be too abandoned given the fact that a pack of Garou has taken up residence, complete with places for booze.
Inside, she looks around as she wanders after the others, not minding to trail behind. She glanced up to admire the architecture. Nothing was quite like home, of course. Nothing was near as grand on this side of the world, but little places like this had its own charm.
[Linus] "Everyone's all chuckles 'n shit tonight." Sarcastic, eye-rolling. "S'fucking hysterical, lemme tell ya."
He catches Kora's grin and snaps off one of his own in response, gingerly clutching his ribs again whilst following her inside.
[Kora] A handful of salvaged tables are arrayed around beneath the shelter of the choir loft. Deeper in the structure are fire places they've cleaned out for use in the bleak midwinter. For now, though, with the temperatures still well-above freezing, they make due with a handful of heaters, an electric one with an extension cord snaking away into drkness is set among the tables. After heaving open the wood doors, holding them long enough for Linus to play host to the kinswoman, Kora walks deeper into the church and flicks it on. The ceramic coils heat up quickly, going from beige to a sort of molten orange in a matter of seconds, with the low hum of the fan behind to spread the heat.
Two pizza boxes, one with one cold slice, another with two slightly warmer slices, top one of the tables. Three or four coolers are scattered around, and Kora searches out two of them, toeing them out from under the old tables with her toe. One is full of beer, a variety from pale eyes to Oktoberfest to deep, richly colored stouts. Mostly local, all microbrews or imports. With all the money they save in rent on this place -
- the other has two or three bottles of hard liquor, whiskey, rum, and tequila. The beer is sunk is ice, but the liquor bottles are not iced. Just kept inside the cooler to keep the vermin out, to keep the birds given free reign through the rafters by way of chiminage from stealing a shiny lid and smashing them on the stone and marble floor.
The needn't sit on the cold stone floor, though. A pair of salvaged pews are set out, like couches, and someone has hooked a hammock from one of the stone niches over to the balustrade. A recently salvaged giant bean-bag chair completes the haphazard ensemble. "We need a fridge, man - " Kora tells Linus, absently as she shuttles through the coolers, naming off the brews, then leaving the coolers open for them to have their pick.
She pours herself a mug of hot chocolate from a large thermos into a heavy ceramic stein that doubles as a mug, and offers the rest to whoever wants it.
[Linus] Linus grabs one of the beers, a lager with nothing terribly heavy in it's brew or reputation. He does a quick grunt (pain) shimmy of the bottles from the cooler to the table top, until six rest near the pizza boxes, each of varying quality and kind found within. Linus grunts again, standing once more from the Coolers.
He eyes the pews-
"-And some fucking throw pillows or something-" Followed closely by a glance toward the stainglass and windows.
"You have any idea how cold it's going to get in here during winters? You won't need a fridge, Sis."
The beer is popped open and Linus takes a seat on the pew, shifting uncomfortably before grunting, bearing it and taking a slug of the brew.
"How's Trent by the way?"
[Frost] Frost takes the thermos and fills the cap setting the cannister on one of the tables then taking a long look around at the arrangement. Somehow there doesn't seem to be anything blasphemous in the use the garou have put this place to. What better use than to shelter the defenders of creation? If anything, they've given the place grace and meaning where it had none after standing empty for how long?
[Kora] "I know," she says, her mouth curling, that mug in hand as if she were quaffing some strong, traditional brew rather than a cup full of milk and chocolate. Then, tipping her head back, she glances up at the ceiling defined by the choir loft. " - I figure, see, we can hang some blankets or something, tarps, yeah? all along there. We'll have a couple of electric heaters, and that'll make this area - not warm, but tolerable, right? Then there are all those old classrooms and the priest's apartments and whatnot toward the back. Easier to keep those warm, between the fireplaces and whatever heaters we can scrounge up."
The faintest of shrugs, as she studies the stained glass set high in the stone walls, a hint of light shining through from the city beyond, casting strange shadows on the stone floors. " - The walls are pretty thick, sturdy. I don't think it'll be impossible to heat enough rooms to keep us warm. Last winter," another curl of memory, " - I lived in this storage unit that Kemp-rhya had rigged up. After that, in this junkyard, before we came here. And gods, Li," on learning that he's wanting throw pillows. " - you're Fenrir. Suck it up."
She's grinning, though it stills a bit when he asks about Trent. "He's fine," quiet, that, followed by a glance at Frost. "How are you settling into your assignment here?"
[Luana Kirchmann] Helping herself to one of the stout, Luana finds herself sitting on one of the chairs closer to where everyone has gathered, listening to Linus and Kora talk. The two kinfolk seem relatively quiet for the moment, looking over the packs choice of homes in the neighourborhood. Now that was done, she's watching the two Garou, both Fenrir.
Drinking from the beer washes the taste of stale tobacco from her mouth, a welcomed taste that she swallows down with a single, slow gulp. A glance down checks over the label, fingers turning the bottle so she can read it over, remember the name to match it to the flavor another time. Whether it was to have another or avoid it wasn't very clear.
"Don't you have any Kinfolk that support you?" Luana finally speaks up, glancing from Kora to Linus and back again.
[Frost] She purses her lips, wondering over the struggle for basic survival and protection from the elements, finding Luana's question apt. "I'm settling in. They have me on a gang warfare team at the moment. Still setting up contacts and such."
[Luana Kirchmann] Glancing over to Frost, Luana asked, blatantly. "What is it that you do?"
[Frost] "I'm FBI." Keeping it short and to the point.
[Linus] "...So she gets us the good drugs when we need 'em and fixes our parking tickets when we need to throw a honda at a Spiral, wrecking Madison and Fifth..." In reference to Frost's occupation.
He continues supping at his beer, eyes flicking up to Kora.
"Fenrir does not equal Suffering for the Rush, you nit. You do whatever you think it is you need to do. Personally, I'm gonna see if I can get one of the Fire giants to invest...in...the...build...ing..."
Linus eyes are steadily beginning to narrow as that sentence peters out, almost as if he were remembering something or...trying to. He leans forward, slapping his beer on the table, hard enough to slosh some over his hand and the table's surface. The narrowed eyes are growing thinner as the moment ticks by and then-
"...Fuck me."
And suddenly, just like that, Linus is standing, face a storm cloud, mouth clapping off curse words and phrases wholly unsuitable to the ears of Female, Male, Child or any kind, really. At one point he seems to be speaking in the crackling of fires and snapping of logs turned to brittle tinder in Heat. A spatter of Spirit's tongue and then-
Pop!
He's gone, a vacuum of air sucking tenderly at lungs and lips as reality seeks to fill the space he left so suddenly behind...
...and oddly enough still, the air in the Church seems to have grown a touch warmer. Enough to unbutton the coat or doff the sweater. Comfortable, if a little strange.
(Gotta get to bed. Work tomorrow folks. Thanks for the Scenage!)
[Kora] "Kemp was pretty insistent on paying his own way - " a brief, sweeping glance at Luana, a quiet look as her dark eyes drift down from the soaring architecture of the place. Kora - whose names is also Sorrow - has this musing look, remembrance wreathing her sharp features, her fine jaw, her mobile mouth, making her seem both softer and somehow more distant. "I'm not.
"But I think pack should stay together in a city like this, have a home base that isn't - " and here, a flashing sort of distaste across her features, shoulders twisting underneath the hoodie, the hood falling down and bringing with it the architecture of her twisted hair. " - weaverbound. We have some kin to help us, yeah. I like this place, though. The splendor and the ruin of it. Sometimes - on the other side - you can hear echoes of old prayers. The belltower's high, too, with a great view of the territory, and the building is old enough, memorable enough, to be solid in the spirit world, or close to it. The pack that was here before us had a different packhouse, but the old Alpha warned us away. I figure," a glance here at Linus, " - Silence-rhya still sees that as his territory."
Then, as she finishes off her hot chocolate,
"Listen, you can stay as long as you like. I gotta track down Roman. We have some talking to do."
[Luana Kirchmann] Since the two Garou head off to do their own thing, it makes no sense for her to be hanging out in their pack territory. Not long after, with an appreciative murmur to Frost about her line of work, Luana will be heading off on her own way, exchanging numbers for those that want them.
