[Quick vote: post order y/n?]
Jack[ Y ]
Eva Illeshazy(mmm. YES.)
underdog[yes plz!]
Keisha Ballard[Sure!]
Calden White[i'm going to vote yes for now, but if it takes an hour for a hour i'm gonna change my vote to no *LOL*]
Fern[The ayes have it!]
Fern[Glad you all could make it! A few ground rules:
- Keep track of your own health (including wound penalties if applicable) and tempers.
- Try to post in 15 minutes or less, understanding that 10 minutes or less is vastly preferable, especially in a scene this size (sometimes it's a good idea to start writing your next post while other people are posting).
- If you choose to multitask, make sure you can keep to the above time limit. If it becomes a problem I will ask you to leave one of the scenes out of respect for my and the other player's time.
- Ask questions in the scene chat (or IM if you're Damon and your current client doesn't support chats). Please do not IM me otherwise. If I don't respond immediately, I'm probably posting/notetaking. Wait, or PM me once in Jove if it's urgent.
- Nightmares, et al? Roll 'em now!
- Please PM me flaws/merits such as phobias, compulsions, hatreds, moon-bound, etc.
- Also PM me any strictly off-limits themes, imagery, or events that will make it difficult or impossible for you to enjoy the scene. If at any time a description is too graphic or IC events make you too uncomfortable to continue, please IM me and ask me to tone it down or, if you need to leave right away, ask me to write your character out of the scene.
- Setup post forthcoming!]
[Flaws: impatient, overconfident, slip sideways. Nina has a DOOM counter over her head, basically. Merit: Perfect Balance.
She's also got the fetish Nyx Bangle.]
[[Flaws: Slip Sideways. Also Ahimsa, though I ain't planning on committing purposeful killing! Zero off-limits themes, do your worst]]
Calden White[possibly might make a diff with Garou/kin NPCs: gall, good old boy merits.]
FernThe sun's trajectory toward the peaks of the Rockies is not so advanced that the sky is any color but a pristine pale blue. There are clouds, but they are thick and white and hang almost motionless. The very air smells like early summer: wet and rich, the sort of smell that has been missing for months upon months. It's hard to remember it's still technically a drought. It's warm outside, warm enough for short sleeves or no sleeves, and breezeless.
Downtown Denver, on a Friday night, is already packed even when the sun hasn't gone down. No one is heading to nightclubs yet, but the over-thirty, after-work set is leaving 24-Hour Fitness or laughing around tables at ChoLon and Bistro Vendome. It's the sort of night that makes people fall in love with this place, even after nine months of wintry weather.
But off of the 16th Street Mall and south of the financial district where 1999 Broadway sits and past Civic Center Park and past the Denver Art Museum there is a two-story pub called Pints. They specialize in Scotch. It's darker here, less shiny, no matter how close to the centers of culture it may be. People come here because they like to drink things that taste like smoke and peat-moss and leather. There's a red phone box outside, how very quaint.
There's also a parking lot across from that pub, and that's where a tall, very thin girl with wide eyes and a couple of moles on her cheek has been standing for the last forty-five minutes, staring at the pub.
Keisha BallardKeisha's happy to be out tonight. She's spent so much time settling in that she's avoided the nightlife...which is also convenient, because she doesn't always do so well around people she doesn't know. Not that she's an idiot in social situations like something out of The Hangover, but she does get a bit awkward from time to time and has a tendency to ramble. So she hasn't pushed herself to get out like she perhaps should have.
But tonight is different. She's finished all the books she has to read, there's nothing on TV and it's time to give the city a shot. She makes her way down the street toward the bar in a sleeveless blouse, green to complement her mocha skin, and a pair of jeans. Not designer by any stretch, more the off-the-rack Target stuff. Her ever-present staff is in her hand, tapping on the ground as she walks. It doesn't help her blend in in most situations, but at least it makes a solid conversation piece most of the time.
She crosses by the parking lot, giving the girl a quick glance and a little smile before she goes to move across the street to the pub.
Calden WhiteWord reaches Calden the way it always does. As remote as he is, as far away from all this, there are few tribes as prone to gossip and word-of-mouth as his own. Wednesday before last one of his distant cousins stopped by for a cup of coffee. Standing in the foyer ready to leave, he'd turned back at the last moment:
You hear about what happened down in Denver?
And no, no Calden had not. So that's how he hears it the first time, vaguely, with few discernible details. A few days later another distant uncle or cousin or possibly even nephew -- Calden never could keep the tangled branches of his family tree clear -- called him and told him again, in deeper grislier detail; added at the end:
So watch yourself when you're down that way, k?
Calden, who knows exactly two non-family people down in Denver, proceeded to call both of them. He got voicemail in the case of the Garou, left a message along the lines of There's been some talk about some Cliath kid getting turned into a maypole along with a few humans. I'm not sure on the details, but I thought you should know. Call me back if you haven't already heard it from someone else, and I'll tell you what I know.
He gets the
Calden White[what the fuck, i didn't mean to post.]
JackJack is a squat bulldog of a man looking for a drink. That search takes him out of the epicenter of art and culture in search of a place that's just like Pints. His motorcycle, a monster of matte green and camouflage streaks, kicks itself up into the parking low across the street from Pints. Past the girl. Past Keisha. Past a few cars. Into a spot he can comfortably back into, off the road where drunk drivers and pedestrian revelers are less likely to fuck with it.
Pop's Rule #11: Never park your bike in front of where you're drinkin'.
He's all leather and hard Carhartt canvas, jackboots and callouses. His buzz cut head has a light film of sweat and grime on it, and there's a musk to him that, while not foul, is distinctly feral. Like he got off work from a construction site. Yesterday. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, with a snout and a scowl on him that makes his fat and thick-boned face not too attractive, more neanderthalenis and less sapien. A five-day-shadow of unflattering scruff and bushy eyebrows is further cause for separation.
Maybe that's why he comes out to this patinaed place. Far from the bright lights and hypermodern architecture. Even far from the faux-dives and Coyote Uglies and neon. To Pints.
He kicks his leg over his iron steed and his musclebound 5'7” frame starts its lead-footed gait back out of the lot and toward the building, which will probably take him right past that aforementioned wide-eyed girl.
underdogIt's not the sort of place people might expect to see a woman like Nina. She's dressed in mostly dark colors, black jeans, dark t-shirt, leather jacket slumped over the back of a chair she lounges back in like she's a fucking queen. Well, maybe not exactly like that. Would a queen have one arm draped over that chair back as well? With her shoulders sharply angled and her legs stretched out just about as far as they can stretch. The posture is relaxed, more lioness, queen of the jungle, than something prim and proper and European.
She sits as she sits, like she owns the place basically, and like she doesn't notice the furtive stares tossed in her direction from the other patrons. It's the tattoos, probably, make her look like she's a thug. Which is a joke, really. It's the scars, it's always the scars. On her face and throat, her collar, her arms. Terrible old things that mar what was once a prefectly lovely young face.
Nina doesn't give one single fuck about the stares. She's more concerned with the tumbler full of amber liquid she holds in one hand. She'll care when, inevitably, someone makes their way over and tries to start something. She takes her first sip of her scotch, tasting it, and is presently unaware of any girls in parking lots outside.
Eva IlleshazyIt is warm enough for short sleeves, but the dark-haired woman cutting directly across the parking lot, a key fob in her hand, is wearing a long-sleeved suit coat over a long-sleeved butter-yellow silk blouse. It is the end of the day and she has pushed the cuffs partway up her forearms. Someone looking closely would see the wrinkles the day's wearing has worked into the skirt, which ends a modest one or two inches above her knees, or the jacket. But for all that she has pushed up the sleeves of the jacket, she does not let it sag unbuttoned, or even take it off, as someone else might do after a long day's work, having emerged from the crisp chill of a heavily air conditioned professional building into the sudden heat of early summer.
Her gait is crisp and efficient. She is careful and aware of her surroundings, aware enough to give the girl a second glance as she stops on the curb and waits for traffic to thin so that she can jaywalk mid-block, then keeps walking through the sweep of running lights.
She is wearing heels, respectible, two inches or so. Closed-toes. There are no concessions to summer, no acknowledgments of it in her attire except in the color of her blouse and the thin weight of the silk. And no one here is close enough to her to know that.
--
Eva's there ahead of Keisha and Jack, already pulling open the pub door when the later pulls up on his bike. She ducks inside, squinting abruptly in the sudden gloom of a smokey club, looking to see if Calden has already arrived. If not, she will get a table. A quiet one away from the crowd. Their talk is not meant for other ears.
Tall, late-30s, early-40s, she frowns as she surveys the interior faintly. Her gaze snags on Nina, lingers a half-second too long, then sweeps onward.
Calden WhiteHe gets the second of his two non-family contacts on a live call. And he wants to know if she's heard, and maybe she has and maybe she hasn't, but either way talking about this sort of thing over the airwaves is always a little weird. So they agree to meet for drinks. And of course Pints is the sort of place a thirty-something son of Stag with deep roots in the state, the tribe, the land would pick out.
So: a little after eight, and Calden is at a table by himself. Something about this feels deceptively familiar: waiting at a drinking establishment. On a weekend night. For attractive female company. It's like he's been here before.
Calden White[fuck's sake. sorry guys, it's really. fucking. hard. to play on a tablet.]
Fern[no problem. no italics here. none.]
FernThe girl watches all of them. She is dressed almost primly: a sheer white blouse buttoned all the way up to the Peter-Pan collar, the sleeves voluminous with three-inch-long cuffs that hug her wrists. Over that is a jumper, blocky and navy blue but trim at the waist. It ends mid-thigh, but her thighs are very long. Her shoes have flat soles and tight, double-knotted laces. Her socks have lace. She doesn't actually look all that out of place in downtown Denver; truthfully, neither does Keisha, even with the staff.
Her hands are in the pockets of her jumper, moving occasionally. And her eyes, wide and blue and unblinking, snap to Keisha when she walks by. She looks startled, then settled, then ...seems to forget Keisha entirely. She does not see Nina or Calden at all, for obvious reasons. Eva gets stared at, but the girl says nothing, does nothing. She forgets Eva, too.
Then Jack. She does the same thing there as before: a sudden look, a silent intake of breath, a pause, and then her upper teeth hug her lower lip for a moment. She pointedly looks away, then looks back at him, and waits for him to go inside.
--
Inside the pub, people are seated. High tables, the bar, booths, what-have-you. The upstairs is open and the place is reasonably busy. There are a few glass panels in the floor where you can look down at things going on in the still. The available drinks take up a book that rivals Moby Dick in thickness; the staff is knowledgeable. The food is ...not why people come here, and is just salty and oily and carby enough to make it possible to drink for long, long periods of time.
They settle in however they settle in. Most of them may not even notice when the girl comes in, hands still in her pockets. She still isn't blinking. It unnerves the staff. It would unnerve anyone. They don't seat her. She points to Jack, wherever he may be, and then starts to head his way. You can almost imagine what she says: I'm meeting someone. There he is.
Keisha BallardThe girl's reaction draws a slight cock of her head, but she shrugs it off for the moment. Jack's motorcycle draws her attention and she jerks her head back. Motorcycles just generally draw attention over cars; they're louder and rather distinctive. And, you know, cooler than cars, most of the time. She watches him pull in and then looks back, continuing on her path through the crosswalk (she's a good girl) and toward the door of the pub.
The door is pulled open, and in she heads. She stops just inside, getting the lay of the land. She's used to bars like this; she's been going to them since well before she was legally able to. But she's done with that lifestyle now for the most part. Cut loose every once in a while? Sure, but she's not out of control anymore. She knows what happens then.
She gives the room a slow pass. Nina...Eva...Calden, and the rest of the inhabitants. Calden is someone that she knows, and she smiles to him and waves, walking in his direction. Go with someone you know, and maybe you can network out from there. "Hey there."
She glances back as Jack enters, and then the girl. Different points converging in one place. Connections like a web. Well, it is a city, so that would make sense...her eyes turn back to Calden. "Funny running into you here."
underdog[percept+PU on Keisha!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN5 (2, 4, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
JackWhen the girl enters and points at him, Jack has just been handed his drink at the bar.
Because Jack is not the kind of man to be waited upon by someone that tries to make small talk or see to his needs in search of gratuity, this is why he circumvents the troop of servers making their way to clusters of business men and business women and other inhabitants of the bar. His gratuity for the cheap whiskey he gets? A buck left on the table. So really it's as much for his own peace of mind as it is for the waitstaff's.
He had noticed Nina because he is the kind of Garou to notice things. Spotted her in the back, because he notices where the eyes of monkeys go and, more pointedly, where they don't go. He's already turned in her direction, maybe gearing up to make some remark about what a fat fucking chance it is he'd see her here.
That's when he notices the girl pointing at him. Notices her coming his way. When he stops and waits, head canted to the side in a most lupine of gestures, drink still clutched in fat fingered hands. The tip of his tongue juts out the side of his mouth, and sharp white teeth chew on it for a second before he puts it to work speaking:
"Yeah?" Looking her up and down. Maybe even unconsciously lingering on her long thighs for a second. His tongue slips out again, this time to lick his lips before he closes his mouth.
Jack[ Perception + Primal-Urge. ]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 4, 4, 5, 10) ( fail ) Re-rolls: 1
underdogOnce or twice, Nina glances in the direction of the tall, muscley ranch man sitting a few tables over. He doesn't hold her attention half so well as the drink her hand, though. Mostly that has to do with the breeding, which is faint yet not so faint she doesn't notice it. But it's the wrong bloodline for her taste, and he doesn't look like he'd be half so fun to interrupt as a couple of others of Stag's brood had been.
The door opens and she's not sitting in such a way that she notices the familiar wolf that swaggers on in. Then there's the woman with the braids and the staff? If Keisha happens to notice the scarred blonde sitting toward the back, she'll notice the woman looking at her with the sort of smile that says she knows a few things she keeps close to her vest.
If she continues on to the Fianna man, that's only, like, -2 points against her. +10 for the staff means she's still ahead, though.
Maybe she has a sense for when particularly important (or at least interesting) people look at her from across fairly crowded pubs. Turning her head in a way that uses the least possible amount of energy, she looks over her shoulder, and she grins at who she sees. She sits up, setting her glass down on the table and turning in her chair before rising, her movements swift, the power in her stocky physique controlled. Cutting through the crowd, she makes her way toward her...friend? Sort of? And she makes the comment he would have if he'd gotten to her first.
"Jack, y'old bastard," she greets in a way that for her is fond. "Didn't think I'd see you here. Who's your friend?" she asks, leaning a little to get a better look at the girl who's heading for him like it's some kind of mission.
Eva IlleshazyThe second of Calden's two non-family contacts told him that she has heard. There are rumors, and none she shares over the phone. She even has some facts, and agrees to meet. So, here she is on a Friday night, with the sun sinking below the horizon. She has been wearing her heels all day and her toes are starting to ache, but the pain is minor and Eva ignores it as she crosses the pub, stepping carefully around Nine to join Calden at his table.
There are a few lines around her eyes, more noticeable tonight, after a long week, than they sometimes are. But the dim and smokey atmosphere in the pub goes a fair way to banishing them, and she is not the sort to wear her heart on her sleeve or her fear(s) in her heart.
"Mr. White," Eva greets the Stag kinsman as she crosses the space to his table. Then, the first cut of a wry half-smile. "Apologies, Calden. It's been a long day."
She pulls out her own seat and lifts both a chin and a hand to summon the waitress and order a Lagavulin, neat. Waves away the food menu when it is offered to her. She could not maintain that figure and eat the food they serve here. Not after three children. Not at her age.
Both her bag and her briefcase she tucks carefully beneath the table, beside her feet. Whatever might have followed is arrested when the girl walks in. A narrow line appears between the dark-haired woman's brows. It smooths away as Keisha approaches, but that smoothing is deliberated, concealing her wariness of strangers on a night like this after the recent events in Denver, behind perfectly polite, mildly engaging smile, dark brows like hooked wings lifted in careful question between Keisha, leaving Calden to make introductions or not as he will.
Calden WhiteWell then. Make it three people he knows in the city. Possibly even more than that; didn't Sam and her brother say they lived in the area too? Calden has so many friends in Denver!
-- anyway. He is waved at; he looks at the wave-r with surprise and delight. "Hey," he says, standing up as Keisha approaches. It's a touch of chivalry, which he masks by hauling a chair over from an adjoining table. His table was for two; now it's a bit cramped, for three. "I come here once in a while," he adds. "I'm actually meeting Eva tonight. She was at the party too, don't know if you met her?
"We were going to compare notes on some stuff going on in town." After Keisha takes a seat, so does Calden, pulling his chair in closer to the little table so he can lower his voice. "A kid -- a Cliath -- by the name of River of Clouds got butchered in some sort of diabolical rite. You hear anything about it?"
Calden White[there's more coming. ffs. tablet makes it really hard to edit posts.]
underdog[damon i have to say it is pretty baller of you to even attempt to rp via tablet. +10 coolness points!]
Calden WhiteWhether or not Keisha-of-the-interesting-staff has heard about it, Calden's eyes -- some indeterminate hue in this dimness -- flick over her shoulder at the approach of another. That smile again, though less surprised this time, and that gentlemanly rise again. He's a tall man. Eva is a tall woman, but even without cowboy boots -- because,though it would surely disappoint Ellie to find out, Calden doesn't always wear them -- he's a few inches taller.
"Counselor," he greets her, since she was insisting on the Mr. There's a hint of smirk now; he waves her to the empty chair with a gesture of his broad palm. Doesn't push the chair in for her. That would be a touch too intimate. "Have you met Keisha? She was at Beltaine too. We just ran into each other waiting for you."
There's no food on the table -- yet. There's food coming, though, wings and sliders. And there is scotch, a fairly healthy helping of it, neat, with a few drops of spring water. Because that's how you're supposed to drink it, Calden would insist. Heathens.
[well, my tablet has a dock!]
underdog[oh. -5 coolness points, so you're still up a little!]
Fern[perception + alertness]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3) ( botch x 1 )
FernNaturally, the wait staff asks Eva what year. When someone comes in and knows what they want, that is the only question. When someone comes in curious, there are questions about flavors and explanations of different kinds of scotch and distilleries and even discussions of how the different tastes enter the spirit. But with Eva: what year. That's all they need to know.
--
The girl -- she is the sort perpetually, unfailingly described as barely legal -- is ignoring everyone. Her unblinking, sky-colored eyes have not left Jack and do not now. She looks like her breathing is picking up just standing there, anticipation written into every long, lean line of her form, which,
frankly,
towers over Jack's. And it isn't that she doesn't see the way he looks at her in that moment, the flick of his tongue over his lips. She sees it. And either she doesn't understand it, or she is very, very good at acting like the gangly, innocent fawn she looks like.
"I need you," she says, almost stumbling over the words. She moves her hands in her pockets, then works them out, and they flutter for a moment before falling. "Please, I... I really need your help."
underdog[percept+PU on the girl, right amount of dice this time!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 9) ( fail )
Calden White[the dice god smileth not upon thee.]
Fern[4 successes = that girl is a werewolf. That girl is a werewolf with intense, seething rage. No wonder most of the humans in this place are uncomfortable.]
Fern[Sorry I forgot to send this earlier!
4 successes = that girl is a werewolf. That girl is a werewolf with intense, seething rage. No wonder most of the humans in this place are uncomfortable.]
Keisha BallardKeisha smiles as Calden introduces her to Eva. "I don't think we did run into each other there...nice to meet you, Eva." She is about to apologize for interrupting and her face says as much before Calden explains about the death of a Cliath. Her brows furrow, the smile vanishing into a shocked state. "Oh, Goddess. That's horrible....no, I hadn't heard. Is there anything I might do to help?" Helping fix things. She's better at that than she is just randomly meeting people and doing the life story. It's a bonding opportunity!
FernAs far as Jack can tell, with and without the gifts of his auspice, the girl is telling the truth... as far as she knows it.
Jack"Fuck if I know," is Jack's answer to Nina as she joins him at the bar.
Ma's Rule #7: Bars are full of hussies and you should stay away.
Pop's Rule #7: Your ma's half right about Rule #7.
Jack is wondering if he's about to find out which was right. The first words out of Fern's mouth straightens his head as his neck tenses, his jaw set at its line of muscles up to his temple begin to flex. It settles in. Maybe because she's closer. Maybe because he can smell her. Maybe because if he had hackles in this form, they would be as raised as any wolf's when presented with this tempest in a teapot. Like a deafening roar undercuts her timid voice.
And somehow the words ring as true. But they are few, and he doesn't seem satisfied. Not suspicious, not one bit, but left wanting.
"Keep talkin'," without a glance over at Nina, not yet, his attention on the girl in front of him. "You a local?"
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
underdogIf the girl towers over Jack then she definitely towers over Nina as well. Nina, one hand planting firmly on her hip, the other a little abover that black leather holster bag strapped to her thigh, tips her chin up to better see the girl. With Nina there's always a bit of a challenge in her stance, the set of her shoulders, the cant of her head. What with all that's happened in recent weeks in the city the look is nothing more than that. Just a little challenge, or perhaps a warning. Little dogs always have the most to prove, after all.
The girl is talking to Jack, though, doesn't seem to have much interest in the other people in the pub. That's just fine, it gives Nina a chance to study her, her grey-eyed gaze sweeping over the girl from head to toe and back up again, sizing her up.
She shifts her weight, one hip pushing out a little further, and her head cants the other way so that she's looking up more from the corner of her eye than straight on, as if this will help her read the girl better. Jack's already asked the good questions, though, so Nina waits for that answer before interjecting with one of her own.
Eva IlleshazyThe Fianna's smirk is returned with a rather dry stare, given a twist by the wry curve of her mouth. So she seats herself. Orders her own drink, (the 2008 12-year-old), and takes it as Calden insists is proper. When the drink arrives, she lifts it in idle toast to the Fianna kinsman. In matters of Scotch and uillean pipes, always bow to Fianna expertise. At least for the night, or they'll talk your ear off about how wrong you are.
Andraj said that, once. The ghost of a smile inflects in her eyes, but never quiet reaches her mouth.
Then Calden's introduction, the mention of the Fianna revels on the first of May, together are enough to ease the tension from the Shadow Lord's shoulders. The easing is minute; mostly the shift of her musculature is hidden beneath her suit coat; a certain uncoiling of the spine, a certain cant of her dark head. There is a hint of breeding to Eva, much as there is a hint of breeding to Calden. Just enough that Garou can see her and mark her and know her as a Shadow Lord. Some suggestion of rain in the air; the first slanting front motion of a summer storm barreling across the plains.
"It's a pleasure," the kinswoman returns, a spare look, taking in Keisha's staff, her demeanor, her clothing, then returning as a check to glance at Calden. Gauging his reaction before she decides how much to share. At last, she tips her head neatly to Keisha, returning quietly. "I can put you in touch with one of the guardians if you think you have something to offer them."
Calden White"Here to find that out myself," Calden replies to Keisha, regarding helping. "Or at least how to stay out of trouble."
Chairs scrape the floor as they pull themselves in. Eva's drink arrives quickly; this is, after all, primarily a drinking establishment. They're interrupted for a moment as the staff -- as in the wait staff, not Keisha's walking staff -- checks to see if Keisha wants a drink. There may or may not be judgment implied if she doesn't want a drink. At a place called Pints.
"I don't know a lot," Calden offers when they're left alone again. "I heard what I heard through the grapevine. As far as I know they found Cloud's body at the center of some ritualistic array, complete with guts strung out like ribbons. It may or may not be the first such display they've found; I heard conflicting things. Anyway," he sums up what little he has, "it's got the wolves down in the city riled and worried. Which probably means it's at least worth being aware of. And wary about."
He lifts his tumbler, taking a sip. "You hear anything more than that?"
[K, I was just informed that drinks are NOT forthcoming. But it's fucking impossible for me to edit my post so JUST IMAGINE THAT'S WHAT MY POST SAID.]
FernBars are full of hussies. This girl doesn't look like a hussie. She looks lost. And she feels like something else entirely.
One of the waitresses who is staffing near the bar walks past her twice in the span of ten minutes and, as a result, is shaking when she comes back to Eva and Calden with their scotch. Shaking so much, in fact, that the round tray tips a bit too much when she gets to them. They don't get to lift their glasses. They don't get to taste that amber-colored gift of the gods. Two tumblers go sprawling, spilling contents onto the cards beneath them, the napkins, the table, splashing Eva's pretty yellow blouse and rolling off the table onto Calden's jeans all in one fell swoop. The woman is pale and apologizing, grabbing her bar towel and starting to sop up what she can.
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, that was so stupid, I'm so sorry she is saying, like a chant to calm herself.
--
The girl attempts a smile and fails. She sighs. "I'm from Gunnison," she says. "It's really cold up there. All the time, really. I like it better down here. It's warmer. I have more friends."
She tries to smile again but it's tight. It's wan. There are tears in her eyes. "Please, I really need some help. They're not good friends." They are threatening to spill out. "They're really bad friends," she whispers, like maybe someone is listening, like maybe someone is watching, like
she's fucking terrified.
Fern[okay so calden already had a scotch, so only one drink gets SPILLED EVERYWHERE]
Jack[ Kai, I'm guessing your rolling the Truth of Gaia rolls behind the ST screen. He's doing it again on this part of the girl's story too. ]
Fern[Actually... I'm trying not to slow things down too much with rolls on every round. I'll tell you if she's lying.]
Fern[Basically I'm considering Jack to have made a successful roll for the duration of the scene, in this case!]
underdog[percept+empathy]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 7, 10) ( success x 1 )
FernThe fear the girl is exhibiting seems... genuine. As far as Nina can tell, at least, the girl's terror, and her tears, are real.
Eva IlleshazyPerception + Primal Urge / Intuition
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
Keisha BallardNormally, Keisha would have happily asked for a drink. That's why she came to a bar, after all. But the course of her evening appears to have changed significantly (yes, she's a do-gooder, she generally drops her plans when trouble is afoot) and she handles the situation with at least a moderate amount of tact, saying "I'll order in just a few, I promise. I'm just being indecisive."
She smiles at Eva and nods. "Please do, yeah. I have a little knowledge about ritual things...not just our kind, but a smattering of the other kind, too." She pauses and her eyes get really wide. "The, uh, human kind. Not the other, OTHER kind."
She jumps as the scotch is spilled and she immediately moves to help the waitress. "It's okay, I promise." She takes a soothing tone, trying to calm the girl. A quick glance is given the direction that the waitress came from...the girl, and that motorcycle guy. Her eyes narrow a bit, but first things first...get the human out of earshot. "Here, let me help..." And try to help she does, so the waitress can get away from the Ragey types soon.
Jack[ Perception + Empathy to see if this girl is truly terrified. ]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 7, 7) ( success x 2 )
Eva Illeshazy[Perception + Occult on Girl - recognize Garou. Base dif - 8]
Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (1, 5, 6, 6, 9) ( fail )
FernAs soon as the scotch spills and the woman shakes, something pings the edges of Eva's awareness. It draws her eyes instantly. It pins her gaze almost without her willing it to the tall, thin girl talking to the short, stocky man. Rage rises off of her like steam. It clenches in Eva's gut. She's a werewolf. She's a kid, a teenaged kid, and she's on the verge of crying, and she is one of the more dangerous creatures in this room.
FernFrom what Jack can tell, the girl's fear is genuine. Maybe a little conflicted, but it's hard to tell by what. She seems desperate, that much is clear, and that taints her fear. It sets off her rage. Hell: it would set off anyone's.
Jack"Alright. You need help. You're askin' for it and we ain't turned you away yet, right? So, you can stop worryin'. Who's on your tail? Who's after you? Or they still up in Gunnison?" Jack's direct and to the point. He doesn't coddle the girl, doesn't seem all that phased by her tears. In fact, the emotion seems to stir little sympathy in him. But he's paying attention. And his words aren't unkind.
He's still got his drink in his hand. He holds it out to her. "You want to sit down? How'd you get down here?" He glances over to where Nina had been sitting, where her jacket might still be.
underdogThe knot of Garou by the bar have more Rage between them than any human has a right to withstand. Already the stools around them have emptied as if by magic. But no, actually. It's fear. There's a girl, a waitress, who passes by them not once, but twice. It's no wonder that by the time she's bearing a tray to the table set with two purely bred kinfolk and one werewolf she's unable to maintain her hold. Glass drops, shatters, the nectar of the gods is spilled everywhere. Nina cocks her head, but doesn't turn away.
She's still watching the girl, still wary and suspicious. That is, until the tears well up in her sky blue eyes. Jack, the unfeeling bastard, starts firing off questions like he's a No Moon fresh after his First Change. He gets to Or they still-- and Nina's hand shoots out, slamming into his chest with no small amount of force. The gesture is meant to stop him, stop him right the hell now.
Tilting her head slightly, the better the give him a bit of a glare, just in case the arm wasn't enough, she says low enough for only them to hear, "Not here."
She casts a look around the room, her gaze resting on those others, those strangers gathered at the table before she looks back to the girl. Unlike her buddy there, she wears an oddly sympathetic expression. "Wait here."
The Rotagar is off then, unzipping a pocket of her bag and pulling out a wad of cash. A few bills get tossed onto her table and her jacket picked up, and it's back across to the others if they're still at the bar. "C'mon, we should do this someplace...quieter."
Eva Illeshazy(Perception + Primal Urge: EVERYONE K.)
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 5, 7) ( fail )
Fern[Jack and Nina slip under Eva's radar.]
Eva IlleshazyCalden doesn't know alot. Eva knows more than she should. Her expression is closed, but she's looking down at the rough wooden table and Calden shares the rumors that he heard. There's a new tension in her, evident in the visible tendons drawn taut against the long line of her neck. She glances up, over at the bar. Takes in a sharp, quiet breath, ready to explain something more of what she knows, or to ask that Keisha come by her office tomorrow morning so that introductions can be made.
Then the waitress drops the drinks; Keisha jumps up immediately to soothe the terrified waitress across the bar. Beneath the table, each taps the toe of her pump against the edge of Calden's shoe. Yes: shoe. Ellie would be deeply disappointed to learn that he does not wear cowboy boots all the time.
Over the surface of the table, while Calden sips his drink and Eva waits for one that will never arrive, leans forward carefully one she has his attention.
"The girl at the bar. In the white blouse, crying?" There's a certain emphasis on the word crying. A certain disbelief that she has noticed what she has noticed. Still, a moment later she bends closer. Her voice is very quiet.
Eva Illeshazy"She's Garou. I've never seen her before. I don't know who those others are."
(forgot to include kai the first time!)
Calden WhiteStuff crashing to the floor always turns heads. Eva and Keisha and Jack and Nina -- they're not the only ones that notice. Some of the mundanes are looking over too, surprised, curious. Those that aren't: well, they're noticing the distinct lack of drinks too.
Calden turns back, though. There's a tap under the table. He's smooth enough not to glance down immediately to see what's going on, but his attention does swing around, an eyebrow up, questioning. Eva speaks quietly. He leans forward to hear it,
swings around to glance at the girl in question. Turns back.
"Serious?" Disbelief there, too. A moment's thought; then he gets up, picking his drink up. "Maybe we ought to see what about."
FernThe waitress looks sick. Pale, shaken, and when Keisha tries to help her she doesn't move immediately, focused a little too intently on trying to clean up the one thing she can control. Not many people in the pub are reacting like this, but this girl is at the end of a long shift and a bad week and this is too much. She just nods, anxiety tightening up all her limbs, as Keisha at least indicates that it's fine, it's fine. She promises to be back with a new drink for Eva, but she's not making eye contact with anyone as she walks back away. The long way, this time.
--
Over by Jack, the girl sniffs. She doesn't blink. Tears fall but she doesn't wipe them away. She nods in agreement to what he says, but then he asks her five questions in a row and she just ...breaks down. Meanwhile, Nina is interrupting Jack with that hand, with those two words, and the girl is crumpling in on herself, face in her hands, shoulders shaking with tears.
"You h-h-h-have to come h-h-help me," she's pleading, and everyone in the bar is starting to turn, starting to look at the ridiculously tall girl who is now biting one of her fists as though to shut herself up.
That next sob has a bit of a roar under it, almost a scream. Those eyes of hers, so open, so wide, so lost, are turning red from exposure to the air, to dust, to light.
And then, quite suddenly, she shoots her hand out, the bitten one that now bears sharp imprints of her teeth, and grabs Jack's shirtfront. "You have to help me," she says, this time through teeth. She's staring at him to the exclusion of everything else. "I need one like you. It has to be you. I picked you. Can't go back now, can't go back, can't go back, can't ever go back, already did the one, already first step next step,"
her fist is clenching, harder, shockingly strong, and she's almost shaking him.
"All the steps and six and seven and seven and seven and I will be one of them and I won't be alone. I don't ever have to be alone anymore."
Now.
Now everyone in the pub's first floor is looking at her. At them.
Keisha BallardKeisha lets the waitress go on her way, her attention (like just about everyone in the bar now) drawn to the girl acting like a lunatic. She could take the time to observe, get information and act from an educated point of view. She absolutely could. But Keisha acts on instinct. Always rely on instincts; they'll never prove you wrong. So she doesn't waste time studying the girl and seeing what else she can learn. It doesn't take a genius or master of perception to know that something is very, very wrong here at this point.
"Jesus Fuck." A little of the wild child coming out in the coarse oath, as she slips off her stool and moves to approach Jack, Nina and the girl. She's not moving in a threatening manner, nor is she rushing. Hot heads will not help here, she is sure. But neither is she meandering or moving hesitantly. She throws a quick glance back at Calden and Eve before she looks ahead again and approaches, putting on a smile to the trio that she's approaching.
"Hey there. Maybe we should take this outside...undue attention and all." She's been smarter about this kind of thing in her life, but...hey, new city, new rules.
JackMa was right.
"Yeah," his reaction to Keisha's recommendation, an echo of the disgruntled nod that came when Nina interrupted him, shut him up, and insisted they leave. Quiet acceptance, but not without a healthy dose of attitude.
The girl grabs him and he's looking up at her. His ears, perked up, almost seem to flex back despite the limitations of the apeskin he's wearing. Tuck themselves into the sides of his round and lumpy face. One hand reaches out to wrap around her wrist, the write of that hand his shirt is clutched in. The other one to her waist, trying to twist her into his own side and hold her there. Like one would the drunk girl that just took a swing at someone at the bar.
"Yeah, sweetness, I got a feelin' we're going to be spending a whole lot of quality time together, you're right," he says, through the grit of teeth. "Mind your fuckin' business," a little louder, eyes scanning the crowd that are all looking at him, his voice calmly threatening. Daring them to look their way another second, or get in his way as he leads her out.
underdog[uh, negate that last thing Nina said in my last post! this would go in before she said anything.]
This, right here? This is the kind of thing Nina had been hoping to avoid. Her thought had been that this girl, this ridiculously tall girl overflowing with Rage, this girl was scared, yes. Scared because she'd fallen in with the wrong crowd and now wanted to get free.
A crowd that, if that were the truth and they didn't want this girl getting out from their ranks - they'd already been halved, see, they probably can't afford to lose any more - chances are she's being tailed, and any second now all hell could be brought down on their heads.
The girl breaks down and for a little while longer the illusion holds. Nina can hear it behind her as she makes her way across the room to pay for her drink and collect her jacket. As she slips the remaining bills into her pocket she pulls out a battered old cell phone. She's got a number or two that should probably get a heads up about this. Her thumbs are tap-tap-tapping across the keyboard - yes, the actual QWERTY keyboard, this is no fancy smartphone - as she heads back, crossing the room in long, powerful strides.
By the time she's back over by Jack the phone has been slipped back into her holster bag and Jack's no longer alone with the girl. The girl who's talking absolute crazy talk now, and who's got a chunk of the wolf-born Garou's shirt clutched in her fist.
Jack tries to reverse that hold. Nina, swinging her jacket casual-as-you-please over her shoulder, casts a look around the room, a sort of Yeah whut! You wanna go, bro? to the room at large. Nobody takes up that challenge, leaving her free to clear their path. Now, hopefully the girl proves moveable, either of her own free will or by Jack's and the chick with the fancy walking stick's brute strength.
Eva IlleshazySerious? asks Calden. Eva nods, the gesture spare in its simplicity. He suggests that they see what she's crying about and the older woman's mouth flattens to a straight line. She swallows behind it, breathes in through her nostrils and nods. The gesture is spare as every other.
Calden rises. Eva's chair scrapes roughly against the wooden floor as she pushes it back, left arm reaching down to pick up the dark, expensive leather handbag and dark, expensive leather briefcase that match the rest of her dark, expensive uniform-of-a-certain age and class. Her chin is high, the expression spare. She is aware of the Fianna in her periphery, but does not glance toward him except for a fleeting glance. The faintest break in her expression as she registers, somehow, that he has picked up his drink.
Eva is a tall woman, made taller by the polished, quietly expensive (there is a pattern here) Italian leather pumps she wears. Her fitness is earned. She runs in the cold light of morning, before the rest of her household is up. Or in the spare, flourescent shadows of a hotel gym, long after her colleagues have given way to their baser passions for sports or alcohol.
--
They are all converging in a knot. Eva is focused on the crying girl, stealing herself to interrupt and interpose. There is no need. That little knot is moving upward. Jack is pulling the crying girl out with him, Keisha and Nina hurrying them onward. When Jack begins to pull the girl through the crowd, Eva cuts Calden a glance, her dark eyes cut up and down his profile. Gauging, perhaps, his committment to the moment.
And whether he is armed.
"I am so very sorry," not to the quartet exiting now, for all that Eva will be immediately behind them. Now she is at the bar, leaning over, gesturing to the barkeep but speaking with a certain precision that allows the other witnesses in the immediate vicinity to overhear. To be included in her explanations. " - for all the fuss. She's been having a hard time since her sister - "
Eva's voice cuts off and she glances aslant. There is grief in her that she does not have to feign. Then slips her bag open beneath her shoulder, pulls a series of bills from the billfold (she will not leave her name behind. Not here. Not tonight. Eva knows what Garou can do when they know you name: follow you and find you anywhere.
Instead, the handful of bills across the bar to the bartender. "A round on me, for anyone inconvenienced." The crisp curl of a spare smile, then she turns to follow the quartet out of the bar.
If there is a moment to do so while crossing the bar, or pausing to open the front door and follow the Garou outside, she will drop another quiet question to Calden.
It is a very simple one. "Are you armed?"
Eva IlleshazyManipulation + Subterfuge (Hidden Motives)
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
Eva Illeshazy(Added: target - bar patrons. Goal: don't call cops!)
underdog[that text! Nina texted to CC, if not the Warder then at least someone in his pack or someone who can get to them quickly, whichever she might have at this point:
Girl at pints pub might have connection to dancers. taking her for questioning now
it's before she saw that the girl was grabbing Jack, so that's all there is for now, but she'd want to give a heads up to CC.]
Calden WhiteCalden was heading for the little cluster around the crying girl almost before Eva agrees to come along. There's something about the way he moves, the way his shoulders square and the way he plows through the crowd, that suggests he just might be the type to interfere with a rough-looking man ushering a crying woman out of a bar. Even if that woman happens to be a wolf.
That's before he hears what the woman's saying, though. And there's just enough there to raise his eyebrow. To make him suspicious. To make him hang back a second, thinking, long enough for Eva to ask him --
if he's armed. He glances at her, something steady in his eye. "I can be," he says. "I have a rifle in the truck. Are you?"
underdog[percept+PU, dropping WP like it's hot]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 5, 5, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
Jack[ Perception + Primal-Urge. Is Keisha a Garou? Difficulty 5 'cause of her Rage. ]
Dice: 5 d10 TN5 (2, 2, 3, 3, 4) ( fail )
Fern[no ambushes! girl must be alone.]
FernThey are gathering. The kin and the garou alike, sensing something off that is a little too familiar to be ignored. It isn't just some hipster girl on a bad trip who got abandoned by her friends long before they were due at a club. It isn't just some emotionally unstable young woman that the short-ish guy fucked and then never called.
Jesus Fuck, Keisha mutters, and walks that way.
Mind your fuckin' business, Jack growls at everyone in the pub, which makes most people's stomachs turn a little icy. He grabs the girl and, perhaps strangest of all for someone of her rage, she neither jerks away nor opens his throat. Rather she clings suddenly to him, all limbs, an octopus of a girl shivering and verging on frenzy. He can feel her breath on his neck and he can taste her rage and even the thinness of her control over it.
Nina texts. Someone up in Five Points on patrol checks their phone -- and of course the pack is on a family plan for these -- and whistles sharply up ahead to their packmates. Jerks his head southward. They start arguing about crossing over and running versus just taking the light rail from one of the Welton Street stations to the convention center and walking from there and which would really be faster, but it's out of habit: every single one of them knows how fast they can get anywhere in this part of town.
Nina's phone gets a text back about thirty seconds later. If that.
People in the pub are still pretty quiet, murmuring with a frightened reverence as Jack ushers the girl, with Nina and Keisha, towards the entrance to get her out of there. Eva is easily overheard: her apology. Why they all seem to know her and converge on her like that. Everyone has to have a family, a support network, a system. And it looks like this kid's consists of a slender black woman with a staff and a bunch of white people who look entirely disparate except in their connection to Poor Kid.
Lucky she has them, though.
--
They get outside. Nina slips out and checks the surrounding area. The air feels summery, but the only people around appear to be people on their way out and about and around. Some of them are just strolling. Nothing crawls up her spine that wasn't already there because of the girl... and because of the bodies that were found, the memory of those descriptions. It feels safe. She gestures for the others to come on out, which they have to anyway, but at least they know they're not walking into a deathtrap.
So then: Jack and the girl. Keisha with her staff. Eva and Calden, quietly discussing firearms and the availability thereof.
The girl just paws at Jack, sobbing and eyes rolling. She keeps muttering, crying: "Thank you, thank you. I promise it will be okay. It will last a long time but you'll be beautiful at the end. Maybe they'll let me keep you for a month, make your beard grow. It will be better that way."
She shakingly smiles, gasping out: "The mule had black hair. Just like Th'nak'vis. You should have a beard." Her hand is clammy on Jack's jaw. "You should have a beard to match D'stok."
Keisha BallardIt's a good thing that Keisha didn't bring a drink with her out of the club and wasn't raising said hypothetical glass to her lips to pour alcohol down her throat at the moment that the girl speaks. She probably could have, the way that Jack scared everyone into silence, but she didn't. And it's a good thing because even without the warm liquid (or any other drink) biting its way down her throat, she just about chokes when she hears the girl speaking to Jack once they're outside.
"Um. Um...." She looks at the girl. Then to the others. And then around. "Um. Yeah. That's...um." She takes a breath and lets it out, then tries to speak again.
"Holy fuck." Yeah, her mind derailed so much that she couldn't even shove out an expletive. This is a banner day in Keisha-ville. THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T GO OUT. YOU REALLY DIDN'T HAVE TO DVR NIKITA, DID YOU?
She shakes it off quickly though and nods her head. Stay cool. "We need to get off the main streets to somewhere safe and private. Before my brain melts. Then we can figure out what to do."
FernNina gets a text back. It reads simply: On our way
JackJack doesn't hold on as tight once the girl is pawing at him. Laying her hand on his face, where a beard should be. Giving names that sound like the kind of names bastards give each other. In fact his body language says that all he wants is this woman off of him.
Some might thing Bone Gnawers revel in the filth, but this is worse than that. He is not proud, but there are some things he can't just swallow without...
Without a reason. Without the Ban of Man, without a city around him, without another Garou guiding him to get her out of there. And as he seems the light to which this disgusting fly is clinging, he simply... Holds her at as close to arm's length as he can, while still gripping her wrist and leading her to...
Well, the closest quiet place, as Nina suggested. The closest private place, his eyes scanning the horizon to find that promised land where, judging by the look of him, he might just tear this thing limb from limb.
underdogThe others may note, and they may or may not find it odd, that while Keisha is stammering and trying to keep cool, and while Jack is [insert Jack reaction], Nina is keeping pretty cool. Her movements are swift, her actions sure, like she knows a thing or two. A thing or two that she's keeping close to her vest.
At the door she pauses, holds a staying hand back to the others so she can scout around a bit. Maybe this girl's alone, maybe her friends are nearby. Maybe something else could be waiting around the corner, hoping for a quick and dirty little tussle.
No. No no. That's just Nina. If she's disappointed that there's nothing waiting for them outside, that disappointment's passed by the time she's urging the others to follower her outside. The leather and metal of her hip bag bzzt bzzt faintly. Leading the others to the nearest parking lot - full of cars, not quite so much of people, though there are a few too many lights for Nina's liking, so she goes a little further, finds an alley - she pulls out her phone, reads the screen, smirks. Momentarily oblivious to what's happening behind her.
That is, until she stops, turns, reassesses. There's Jack, holding the vile little-giant girl about as close as he can stand, and there's the girl with the staff and yep. Behind them. The kin have followed. Whether they've come directly after them or detoured for weapons, Nina can sense the faint tingle of Storm and Stag on the wind.
"Alright, we're clear," she says, her voice pitched a little lower than she might like. It's weird taking command. The position fits her like a too small shoe, tight and uncomfortable. Not that it's anything she can't handle, it just fits wrong. "Name's Nina," she says to Keisha, and grins. "Keep that brain solid, some guys from the Broadway building are on their way."
underdog[EDIT!: [insert Jack reaction] is SUPPOSED to be: and while Jack is fending off the octopus girl...]
Eva IlleshazyThe Shadow Lord huffs out a quiet laugh. It is the first note of genuine humor all night, and it is open enough. The way it curves her mouth and cheek. The way it sparks in her eyes, catching the sheen of light in the front foyer of the bar. Just before they open the door to follow the Garou. The sound is mostly swallowed back into her body by a breath she draws back in, quite deliberately.
"Enough for both of us," she assures Calden, then, lifting the briefcase with her right hand, transferring it to her left, and handing it off to him, open-palmed.
"Front pocket, zippered compartment," she instructs him, no longer looking at him, keeping her voice strictly controlled. "There's an extra clip."
Then she shifts her handbag loose beneath her shoulder. It is as capacious as that carried by any suburban-dwelling mother-of-three. Except that - if Calden were to glance down as she moves, he would see the dull, heavy butt of another weapon in the compartment she has shifted open.
--
Then, they're outside. She closes the door to Pints firmly behind her. Swears, sharply but softly, wholly beneath her breath as she overhears... what she overhears. The kin are not precisely within direct orbit of the Garou now. But they do follow, through the parking lot to the convenient alley. Out of the line of sight of any casual passersby, she draws the 9 mm, holding it down and stepping back, so that she has a view of both the street and the alley.
The mention of the Broadway building is enough to fill in the rest of the blanks for her.
Calden White"Why," Calden smirks, "am I thoroughly unsurprised."
He downs his whisky in a gulp. Perhaps not the best choice to make when heading into potential danger, but really: is he supposed to just let it go to waste? His hands free now, he takes her briefcase from her, and fortunately it's gender-neutral enough not to look completely ridiculous in his hand.
Still looks a bit ridiculous, mind you. He is, after all, in blue jeans and yet another checked flannel shirt. This one isn't red; it's grey. Shocking. Eva tells him where to find the weapon, and he immediately unzips that compartment. Like her, though, he waits until he's outsideand out of sight to draw it.
And also: he sets her briefcase down against a wall. Hopefully out of any suspicious puddles.
"Keisha," he calls quietly -- just that one name, nothing else -- and catching up to her with Eva, "do you know him?" He nods at Jack. "Orwhy our kooky friend there has such a crush on him, specifically?"
Fern[posting order will be lifted after my next!]
FernThe Guardians of the Sept of the Cold Crescent know their way around this city. They've been here for years now. They ride the trains and the buses and some of them cross the boundary between worlds and run or fly. They leap off of brick and concrete and glass. They stand on top of the tallest buildings in the city and watch from above. Some of them hang out under bridges and in alleyways. They go through Civic Center Park every so often and clear it out, or just buy some dimebags and move on with their night.
They are coming quickly. And they are going to come out of nowhere. Eva gets a text from a friend who knows her schedule and her routine and her tastes and is also a just-in-case sort of person, though who knows if she's checking her phone right now:
Stay away from Pints tonight. I'm on my way there.
Which can only mean something bad is going on there.
--
The girl keeps reaching for Jack, but she holds onto him where she can, even if he holds her at arm's length. "They're coming," she whispers. "They believe in me." Her head shakes, those wide, unblinking, sore eyes fixed on him as before. "None of you ever believed in me." For the first time, she stops looking at him. She looks at the others, eyes scanning around them. She glances at the kin, particularly the male, because: of course she does. Because they are well bred, if only in part. Because she is base and carnal and primitive and
she has lost so many threads of her reason. It unravels even as she looks around at them.
"We'll kill you one by one if we have to," she says, and shakes her head, fresh tears rolling out down her cheeks. "We don't want to, though. All you have to do is believe in us. Have a little fai--"
Nina probably senses it first. Jack will see it first, and feel the effects first. But it isn't until the girl cuts off mid-speech and goes utterly limp, knees buckling, that any of them realize that the calvary has arrived. There's a black dart with a blue-green feather on it sticking out of the girl's throat. And there is a pack of six Guardians emerging: from shadows, from doorways across the street, from a parked car of all places. It's amazing the places you can pop out into when you want. That kid in the cargo shorts and popped-collar polo and flip-flops was just walking by, and then he was pulling out a blowgun and dropping the girl.
Six of them, all Fosterns or higher, converge upon the Gaoru and kin who have gathered. The girl is twitching, not unconscious but catatonic with sensory overload. Circuit Runner looks at Eva and gives her a nod, but she's working right now, and she and another Guardian are coming over to Jack to pick up the... villain? Victim? The girl. Whatever else she is.
"She hurt anyone?" asks Champion of Honor, the youngest of them, a Philodox, the bro-looking kid with the blowgun. He gives a nod of thanks to Jack, the one holding the girl, but he's talking to Nina, since she's the one that texted them. He does spare a glance for the kin, concerned, before looking back to the rotagar. "A couple of us can stay and help with damage control if we need to, but we gotta get back to HQ with this kid."
JackBetween Jack's new position as the girl's handler, the girl playing house with his face, and trying following Nina into a back alley, it takes Jack a moment to realize they're being followed into that back alley. And their followers are armed. He can read the signs of their siring, faded as they are, in their blood and features.
Jack had been promised someplace quiet. And between the guns and the kin, he knows that's not going to be the case. Especially with one of them already asking questions of Keisha, which Nina seems to so far be tolerating. As a lupus he takes a cue from her as to the woman that approached them.
But as for Eva and Calden? His eyes are on the guns in their hands, back and forth and back again. He doesn't stop at the first go around, either. His eyes stay on those mechanical weapons, watching exactly in what direction they're leveled, teeth bared in a snarl.p>
"What part of mind your-" Jack cuts himself off, not having time for a question.
"You both need to fuck-" again he's cut off. This time because that girl slumps to the ground at the hand of a glorified spitball.
Champion of Honor unburdens him and starts asking questions. Jack shakes his head. "Whatever," thinking better of leaving that as his only answer to a Garou of rank, he shakes his head again. "No. She didn't."
Keisha BallardShe may not have been the most useful throughout this, but the second the girl suddenly collapses, Keisha's in an Iskakku guard stance, stepping back to place herself in front of the kin. When it becomes obvious that it's Guardians though, she relaxes and looks back to make sure that Calden and Eva are okay. "You guys okay?" Even as she says it, she's moving forward to look the girl over, though she does keep listening for an answer.
"I'm fine," she says, letting Nina answer more specifically as she takes a knee next to the girl, taking care to see that she didn't suffer a worse wound from her fall than the blowdart delivered. Yes, she's likely everything they stand against and a threat to anything and everything at any particular moment, but that doesn't mean that she's going to let her suffer needlessly. Besides, they don't know anything yet and they don't need anything that could make what she presumes will be a questioning problematic.
Calden WhiteIt's always a bit comical, Calden thinks privately, when a girl half your size and little more than half your age asks you very seriously ifyou're okay. So there's a bit of wryness in his smile: "Yep. Don't worry, I can take care of myself. Pretty sure the good counselor here can, too."
The cavalry arrives. Or at least -- given the response of the Garou, even of Eva, Calden assumes they're the cavalry. They're taking her back to HQ. Calden furrows a bit at that; he decides not to speak up.
"She didn't hurt anyone," he supplements Jack's answer, "but she sounded like she wanted to make a maypole out of him. Was talking about how she just needed him and she couldn't back out now, and all." He shrugs. The gun, Eva's, and a little small in his hand, goes into Eva's bag. Which he retrieves from the ground.
This time he directs the question to Jack. "Why was she so interestedin you? Have you met her before?"
underdog"I do," she says in answer to the kinsman as she swings her jacket around, the better to shrug into it. As she tugs her hair free of the collar, ignoring the mad words of a mad girl, she says, "And I've got an idea." She cuts a look at Jack when he starts speaking, cutting himself off, speaking, cutting himself off. And nothing he's trying to say sounds like it would be polite, not that Nina cares. But it wouldn't be helpful, either. And these kin look like they're trying to be helpful. Nina looks at the weapons, as well, but doesn't seem to mind. In fact, the sight of them causes a smirk to threaten to split her face.
She doesn't speak for Jack, though, doesn't make excuses. Doesn't even introduce him, either. He's got a tongue and a human-shaped mouth right now, he can make his own damn introductions.
"Keep hold of her, Jack, we don't want to lose her before--" And now it's her turn to stop midsentence. She feels it, a tingle in the air that shivers along her senses. The nearness of other Garou as they slip out of the shadows. The girl slumps out of Jack's arms, and Nina shrugs. Well, that solves that.
They're all around them now, the Gaurdians of the Cold Crescent. Nina nods to the one or two she recognizes, respectfully flippant, if that can be believed.
To the question of whether the girl hurt anyone, all she can say is the truth. "Don't know. Not anyone since she walked into the bar, though, I can say that much. There was a bit of a ruckus inside, but I think she," she nods her head to Eva, who hopefully is the owner of the feminine voice she'd heard on her way out, "took care of it."
underdog[that "I do" was supposed to be in answer to "Do you know him?" in case there's any confusion! i didn't expect to post at the same time as Damon @_@]
Eva IlleshazyThe Shadow Lord's weapon, once drawn from her bag, remains pointed down at the ground. She has turned her frame aslant, mostly forward toward the quartet of Garou in the alley, but still open to the parking lot and street beyond. Her breathing is steady. Most of the physical signs of her tension are easily read, but others are suppressed and swallowed, a long-practiced habit.
Jack begins - and is cut off - in the midst of two questions. The woman's eyes cut warily back to him when he realizes that he is addressing her. She does not respond to the foreshortened question. Merely sets her jaw tightly and - on some level - asks herself a similar query with a different context.
The phone vibrates in her bag with the text. Eva ignores it in favor of keeping her weapon out and her eyes on the strangers. The strange Garou, she asserts to herself now, somehow seeing it in each of them once their status is confirmed - by Nina, when she mentioned the Broadway building, and the Guardians, when they appear out of nowhere, taking over and taking custody of the girl.
Eva's response to Keisha's question is a level nod.
"I don't hear any sirens," an acknowledgment to Nina and Champion of Honor, dark eyes cutting briefly to Circuit Runner with a lifting question. "I think there's no need to stay. Is she," a lift of her chin upward toward the girl. " - tainted? Or just mad?"
JackHis ears flick at Calden's question, though he doesn't actually look at him. Instead his answer to it is pointed at Champion of Honor.
"She wanted a wolf. She smelled it on me." Then, he stops, the gears turning. Like what Calden asked had made him think of something else that might be worth saying. "She scented my breed. She might be a half-moon. She knew about the seven. Said something about a mu-" he doesn't actually say it, catching himself- "Metis. She's got something to do with that. Wanted to make me into someone else she knew."
There's a shift. A recognition. The question from the kin, who no longer has a gun in his hand, had made him realize this. When he looks at Calden again, the snarl is gone. He doesn't seem as hostile. "Never met her before," answering his second question directly.
FernJack's initial gruff Whatever gets some slightly raised eyebrows from Champion. They're very expression eyebrows, seeming to ask: Wanna try that again? which Jack already is in the process of doing. Champion nods, to both the other Philodox and the Ragabash who tell him what they know of what happened -- the general brushstroke and the specifics. "Good. Awesome. Cool." Circuit Runner helps him drape the girl over his shoulder. He's tall, fit, and wears his facial hair light but certainly present.
To Keisha, he just half-grins. "Well, I was mostly meaning humans, but good to know." It's friendly; he's teasing her, but it's sort of hard to feel belittled, the way he's grinning like that. He does, at least, seem genuinely glad to know that the girl didn't hurt anyone. He is holding her without difficulty, it seems. She groans where she's draped, drugged but not asleep. And not injured, either. The Guardians were there. Her knees buckled but she did not let go of her hold on Jack until they pried her away and lifted her up.
That grip of hers was desperate. Even in sensory overload. She needs him. She wasn't lying, was she?
Champion turns to Calden as he speaks up. He seems to recognize the bloodline, which means he knows someone who knows someone. Hell, one of Calden's distant relatives may have been his frat brother. Who the fuck knows. If nothing else, something about Calden says he's trustworthy, he's respectable. So Champion listens, and he nods. "I guess that's one of the things the Warder will want to ask her."
"Smile," says Circuit Runner to Jack, out of nowhere, and she doesn't mean it, and her phone is snapping a picture of him. As it lowers, she explains: "We'll probably need to show her that when we ask about you. It'll get deleted later."
Champion looks over at one of his number. "Hey. Get her scent and look around the area, see if you find anything." Nods his head at Jack, Nina, Keisha. "Take one of them if they want. Just don't go alone."
Obviously.
He looks at Eva. And he definitely recognizes her. Knows her as a friend of his packmate and a widow and someone who works in the building where 'HQ' is and a total MILF. He gives a lopsided smile, nevermind that there's a nearly unconscious girl slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and gives her a little upward nod. "'Sup."
Which may or may not increase the chances that she will ignore him and talk to Circuit Runner anyway. Champion just grins, sort of goofy-like, and Circuit Runner rolls her eyes at Eva behind her packmate's back, amused and tolerant, mostly. "There weren't sirens when we found the setup in the parking garage, either. We'll take a look around anyway. As for her..." Circuit Runner looks over, considering the girl, and then looks at Champion, who meets her gaze and then nods. Circuit turns back to Eva and nods. "Yeah. Not much. Maybe she could be cleansed, but... she's pretty far from 'okay'." She seems about to say more, but instead gives Eva a look indicating: Later.
Champion checks around one last time. He's not the highest-ranked in the group, but he seems a natural leader. Personable, friendly, strong, even-keeled -- the others seem to be testing him out a bit, too. So two pair off to scout the area, welcoming Jack, Keisha and Nina to go with them if they'd like. He wants Circuit Runner and another to escort Calden and Eva away from here. Guns or not, that isn't optional. Which leaves him with himself and one other to get the girl back to HQ. It's obvious he's not happy about the limited numbers, the splitting, so he's firm about all of them meeting up again back at 1999 Broadway as soon as they're done.
A cop car slows down, no sirens, as it passes. Officer calls out, seeing a girl over a guy's shoulder in that concerned-threatening way cops have: "Everything all right?"
Champion just smiles and gives a wave, laughing: "Yeah, man, my sister just turned 21 and lost her cookies all over the bar. I'ma take 'er home." He pats her back, and the officer waves and goes back to his slow patrol around downtown.
The cop, obviously, doesn't hear the girl stir as Champion starts to do exactly that, bidding his farewells. She runs a hand over the hair on his jaw, muttering: "I need you," slurring and uncomfortable. "I bet it's even your moon tonight. It is, isn't it? It is..." and she laughs, and jerks, and he locks his hand down on her, looking at his packmate with a we need to go expression.
They go. Crossing over via a puddle in the shadows behind Pints.
Keisha BallardKeisha will go with the Guardians to patrol and then head back with them to Broadway, but not before giving her phone number to Calden and Eva. Other people will have her phone number handed out to them post-searching. She will eventually head home and do a Rite of Cleansing on herself just to be safe. Hey, you never know. [And outtie. Thanks for scenage!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
Calden WhiteA wolf, Jack says. And then a little later, though he doesn't exactly say it aloud: a wolf-wolf.
Calden's expression changes a little at that. It's subtle, it might be more subtle than a wolf-born can read, but he's surprised. Not so much surprised to find a wolf in a city -- Denver is, so far as major cities go, at least semi-reasonably close to the wilderness -- but surprised to see a wolf-born looking like Jack. Acting like Jack. Passing, more or less successfully, as human.
"Or maybe it's your auspice," he offers. "One or the other. Did sound like she was collecting 'em all."
Oh look. He does watch TV.
Then it's time to split - literally and figuratively. So Calden gives the briefcase back to Eva, tells her they'll meet up and compare notes another time. Or maybe just meet up for drinks, who knows. They part -- he waves good bye to Keisha -- he has an escort, which strikes him as vaguely absurd, but which he doesn't argue about. Not worth the effort.
He does offer that Guardian a ride, though -- back to 1999 Broadway, if he or she wants. And along the way, they chat a little,
about Denver, about maypole'd Garou, about things of lesser or greater import.
Calden White[that'll be my last too! thanks for the RP, guys! and thank you for STing, kai!]
underdog[i got nothin', my brain be fried. Nina will go on patrol and then head back to CC, probably with her bag of all her worldly possessions. thanks, Kai!]
Eva IlleshazyThe look Eva shoots Champion of Honor is steady and and mild. Her brows are lifted alertly above her dark eyes, and there is no give to her mouth. At least, not until she catches his packmate rolling her eyes over his shoulder, affection embedded in the look.
Champion of Honor's a kid with a lopsided smile. Eva returns it, then, her own a minute sketch of the expression, but visible for all that.
--
She accepts the escort, feeling rather less absurd about it than Calden. They are a quartet to the parking lot - she has walked here from another - and there they pause. She agrees to the exchange of drinks or notes. And she advises Calden that he should invest in a handgun.
She will not always be around when he needs her extra weapon.
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