[Kemp Oates] He turned, bent out of sight as he started reloading the little basket.
"Ya want to hand me some of those snowballs?"
His breath was puffing out as he loaded, arching a half hidden brow at Imogen.
"I think this time we can get at least 7 or 8 in it."
[Imogen Slaughter] The kinwoman is some distance away from where Kemp is standing - out of sight on the rooftop.
"The wind's comin' from the left," she observes after having exhaled cigarette smoke from her mouth and watched the dispersement. Her positioning is more due to the cigarette she holds - deference, perhaps for the Rotagar's hatred for her particular, smelly habit. "Yeh may want to take that under advisement."
he asks her to hand her a snow ball - the kinwoman casts him a rather sharp, wry eyed glance. "I am not helping you," she informs him rather archly. "You are absolutely on yer own, whipping snow balls at people's heads."
[Kemp Oates] He snickered, wiping gloved hands on his backside as he squatted and sighted along the catapult arm, moving the device a little to the right.
"How's that? Think it's enough or should I move it a little more? I think one more snowball, that will make a nice even 9."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The door opens. Lukas stops clanging the bell. "Nessa, will you -- "
It's almost preternatural, his sense of something incoming. Lukas doesn't bother to turn to see wtf it is. He just ducks, sort of like George Dubya ducking the flying shoes. One snowball whales into his lower back nonetheless. A few others soar far over him, splat against the holiday deer, the side of the house. One, however, on a collision course with the back of his head now sails over his head, into the chainlink fence which divides it and bifurcates it, smashes it into a fine powder that poofs into Agnessa's face like so much confectioner's sugar.
Lukas bites the insides of his lips to keep from laughing. Dusting the snowball off the back of his coat, he turns to look across the street. And up. He cups his hands over his mouth to shout over the windy night.
"Who were you not aiming for that time, Kemp?"
[Kemp Oates] "Test the air again."
Then the call came and he snickered.
"Fuck, no time to aim!"
Yelling in a big ole white exhale.
"NO ONE! I Mean...NO ONE UP HERE BUT US PIGEONS! I mean...PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN!"
And he stomped full force on the board in a high arc of flying snowballs.
[Kemp Oates] The smile he gave Imogen was full of trouble. Pure, simple joy shown through his eyes as he winked at her and urgently gave orders.
"Come on! You're the doctor! Get those coordinates down, this is vital, important and urgent and shit..toss me some of them snowballs, will ya?"
Meantime he was loading snow into the basket, trying to avoid certain SNOW
[Katherine Bellamonte] (dex + drive 'try and avoid snowballs plz')
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (LOL.)
[Katherine Bellamonte] (LAWL.)
[Katherine Bellamonte] (DAMN IT KEMP)
[Nessa] "HAH! I... want one---!!!" And her wish is granted! MORE snowballs come!
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas has the good sense to close his yawp, turn away, and let the snowballs pelt against his back. Instead of into his pretty face.
When that volley's over, Lukas -- who's apparently decided the Serious Conversation With Nessa can wait, bends down and scoops up a snowball of his own. He whips that up in a high arc, hoping to detonate it somewhere close to Kemp.
(dex+ath diff 9!)
[Imogen Slaughter] The wind is harsher up here - without as much shelter from the other buildings, it blows unabated, tugging at her vibrant, flaming red hair, pulling several strands loose from the pins that hold her hair back. Her skin does not redden with the cold - it in fact goes paler, as if the blood was pulling away from her skin, closer to the bone where some warmth might still be found and kept.
She eyes Kemp and then the catapult as he readjusts it, lifting her shoulder. "Gi' it a try and see. But don't overfill th'basket," she says, "Or none o' 'em will fly straight."
Test the air again. She takes a drag from her cigarette - exhales. "Still from the left." By that time, Kemp's already gone spastic, screaming out over the edge of the building - responding to a yell she'd barely heard and not understood, then slamming his foot on the board to send the snow balls flying through the air.
"Not bad," she observes, mildly - almost scientifically.
Imogen - the consultant on Rotagar projects.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (AHAHAHA.)
[Nessa] This launching, Nessa laughs and dives behind the mailbox thingy for cover.
[Imogen Slaughter] (That just fell on Lukas's head.)
[Nessa] And.. makes snowballs!!
[Ewan Selwyn] (( .... wow.))
[Dylan Swan] Dylan is surprised as all get-out when one of the snow balls flung in the first volley hits her side -- that wet sound snow makes. Really! Surprised. As. All. Get. Out. The imagination stretches but: Kemp, a mischievous Calvin? And redheaded Imogen, Hobbes? Well, Dylan may not be able to see Imogen, but she can hear Kemp, and she's heard enough about Kemp to say, "Dear god, s'like being attacked by Calvin and the only appropriate response is a counter sneak attack. Roof?" S'not like she's forgotten their mission; she hasn't. But hey, it is like being attacked by Calvin! You've gotta recognize.
ooc: and OMG brb. friends bearing presents have just arrived out of the blue. (LOL)
[Imogen Slaughter] She regards Kemp mildly after his commands, making no move to help. "Oh no," she says. "It's much more interesting to watch. Also, if anyone comes up 'ere, I intend to declare plausible deniability. Much harder t'pull off when I have a snow ball in my hand."
[Kemp Oates] He was dead serious as he adjusted the aim again with a look to Imogen?
"Come on Doctor, my ship is in dire straights here. Give me those coordinates again."
He was reloading as fast as he could.
"Don't worry, I brought rope. Just wrap it around yourself and I'll say I forced ya. Now....Damnit Jim! My engines are going warp speed! Give her all ya got Scotty!"
And he stomped again, sending another round into the air.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Several things happen at once.
Katherine's silvery laugh echoes across the totem-phone in response to Dylan's piece of advice; Kemp launches his deadly snow missile attack and Katherine, spying the incoming debris lurches her car to one side of the road in a death-defying maneuver that does little to avoid snowballs pelting into her windscreen and sends her Porsche fishtailing; tires squealing against the icy ground in a bid for friction.
Her face can be glimpsed behind the wheel; eyes widened in surprise, her lips parted in a silent 'o' of horror that very soon turns to delight as she manages (quite possibly out of pure determination) to straighten out before she hits anything.
[Imogen Slaughter] Another drag on her cigarette, another exhaled breath. "Try further t'the right," she suggests, before taking a true drag of her cigarette - one that is appreciated rather than just exhaled to give hurried coordinates to a hyper fostern.
[Kemp Oates] "Balls! I need more balls!"
Calling out.
"FORE!!!!!! My bad, forgot!"
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Shit." The second the snowball leaves his hand, he sees the fatal error. The snowball sails across the street with deadly force ... and crashes through a window. No, really, he threw it that hard. Plus it must've had a core of dirt or pebbles. Then, some woman inside, screaming. Not from fright -- angrily. She leans out the window, bathrobe, hair in curlers, pea-green face mask on, screeching.
"YOU LITTLE SHITS! YOU LITTLE FUCKERS! I'M CALLIN THE COPS! RIGHT NOW! I'M'ON TELL 'EM WHAT YOU DID AND YOU GON' GET IT!"
Lukas: "Look, I'll pay -- "
"I'M CALLIN 'EM RIGHT NOW!" The curtains whisk shut and she's gone.
[Imogen Slaughter] "... did you just break a window?"
[Ewan Selwyn] *It's about that point in time a tallish figure rounds the corner and comes to a slow hault. He's bundeled up for the cold. To be honest he's bundeled up for far worse cold than what's assulting the city this cold December night. Converse all stars, jeans with one knee blown out showing thermals on underneith, a digital cammo surplus jacket XXXL on perhaps an XXL frame. A scarf in green and black wrapped around his face up to the nose and one of those hats with the furry ear flaps pulled down. Clear blue glassy eyes peer out from the clothes and take in the scene*
[Kemp Oates] He crowed from the rooftop in a big ole exhale.
"It weren't me. It was HIM!!!"
And he was pointing over the edge of the roof, dangerously close to the edge.
"He did it!"
Snickering with a glance back at Imogen.
"Come on Doc. I need some more snowballs. Smoke break is over. You are woman, hear you roar!"
[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine Bellamonte, having successfully parked her car (at a somewhat obscure angle) emerges from it, fresh-faced in the wake of her near-death experience just in time to witness Lukas' amazing display of mis-aiming. Her laughter trickles down to him: "You have the Midas touch, Lukas, as ever."
[Nessa] "Balls are too damned big already!" She mutters, but isnt really trying to hide the accusation. More snow is packed into viciously tight balls --snowballs, she isn't messing with Lukas actually-- and plans are beign made!
BUT! Lukas scores with Mrs. Petrovich instead. With utter delight, Nessa laughs!!! "Very good, Lukas! She is very bitch! Little balling maybe improves her mood!"
Her dogs are still hysterical, snapping and barking and growling at the ahroun before them, and any other strangers near. This being finally sinking into her brain, she turns to address them. "Moose! Squirrel! Good Dogs! But Enough! Go lie down!"
[Imogen Slaughter] "If you fall," the kinwoman speaks as Kemp dances on the edge of the rooftop, completely ignoring his crowing, "I am not going to go down there and peeling you off the pavement. Him who?"
She fits the cigarette between her lips, stooping to the ground to gather snow in her leather-clad hands, packing it together absently. When complete, she steps forward, carefully skirting yellowed snow to drop it ceremoniously in the basket.
"There. I helped."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Hey. HEY!" Threat of cops in mind, Lukas waves his arms up at Kemp. "Can we call a tr -- " -- Kemp's last volley before he has to make more ammo sails through the air, piffs down all around, making Lukas duck and cover his head. "Oh that's it," he says, grabbing a handful of snowballs from Nessa and taking off across the street.
"Dyl and I are going up the front fire escape," he calls to Katherine. "You go up the side!"
[Kemp Oates] "He is so in for it. And so uptight about rules and shit."
He snickered filling Imogen in as he skidded towards the catapult to adjust aim again.
"Ok this time, I load you stomp. Better yet, jump on with both feet. Come on, I won't let ya fall off the edge. Boyscout cookie pledge."
Making some weird gesture across his chest with a snowball.
"I can't believe Lukas broke that window. Man, this is funny as shit. Did ya see his face? No wait, ya missed it. No matter. Jump Doc!"
[Ewan Selwyn] *The glassy clear blues track flying balls of snow and ice as they fly too and fro. Slowly the head tilts and he glances up to see a certain fostern on a rooftop and seemingly in position of safty during the skirmish. Slowly the eyelids blink over those glassy blues and then the lanky fellow decked out as if he were in the true arctic instead of the midwest, also crosses towards the alley*
[Kemp Oates] He leaned up over the edge again with the call, peering down.
"Oh fuck, forget the jump. Help me with this thing. We'll tilt it over the edge."
He was crowing, urging her on like the devil himself sitting on Imogen's shoulder.
"Come on, at least hold my belt loops so I don't fall on my fuckin head. It would so be on your conscious if I got more brain damaged. Ya'd not be able to sleep for at least five damned minutes. Come on! Oh fuck...they are coming up...better hurry Doc."
[Nessa] "Hey those were--" Confiscated. Hah! Lukas and his group run off. She stares after the attack squad with much wistfullness, but is apparently unwilling to leave Luc unguarded. Nessa turns and re-enters the house, watching their progress the way, until the edge of her house blocks the view.
She COULD be watching from inside, mind.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine slinks across the street, daintily hopping across a particularly unpleasant icy puddle and vanishing in a blur of white and black up the side fire-escape. How many targets do we have?
[Imogen Slaughter] "I don't think it's possible for you to become more brain damaged," she observes, "and if I hold on t'yeh, and yeh'll fall, you'll just take me with you."
Still, she grabs the edge of his coat. "So don't fall."
[Ewan Selwyn] *Crossing the street he hops up on the curb and the head tilts up again to see kemp leaning over the edge and perhaps a fem hand clad in leather holding him steady. The tallish lanky man pauses again to watch for a few seconds*
[Kemp Oates] "Better hold on tight cause ya know it's gonna hurt like a bitch if we fall."
He cackled madly with the biggest smile at Imogen as she held on and he leaned over the edge with the basket end of the catapult, aiming for those taking the firescape.
"SURRENDER YOUR CANDY CANES!"
Bellowed down as he tilted the basket, skidding towards the edge a little more.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] He's quite a sight, the welldressed Ahroun jumping to catch the lowest rung of the fire escape ladder, then dangling until his weight pulls it abruptly, clatteringly down. Then he's climbing up hand over hand, gaining the first landing, peeling off his heavy overcoat as he goes. He gets one arm up as he's starting up the second flight, the other on the second landing; whips it over the railing and, grasping the steel banisters of the rattling, creaking old fire escape, begins to half-run, half-haul himself up the third flights of stairs.
I don't know. Twenty! Get 'em all!
They can still hear Mrs. Petrovich, or perhaps Mrs. Petrovich's ghetto-raised sister in law, screeching up at them. "I DONE CALLED THE COPS! THEY COMIN TO GITCHA RIGHT NOW. OH YOU BETTER RUN, YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU KEEP RUNNIN!" Something -- a hairbrush? -- whizzes past Lukas' ear and clatters against the fire escape.
Surrender your candy canes, Kemp demands. Lukas' answer? He flings one of Nessa's hardpacked snowballs up at him.
[Kemp Oates] "OH DON'TCHA GO WITH THE HUSKIES GO! OH DON'TCHA EAT THAT YELLOW SNOW!"
Splat right in the face had him blinking a bare moment before he blinked in surprise.
"Fuck! I'm hit! I'm going Martha! Doc! Doc! I'm hit! I can't hold on the basket any longer!"
And all the contents went over the edge.
"Damn, I think I got snow up my nose."
[Kemp Oates] ((Shit...with=where! LOL! ))
[Katherine Bellamonte] While Kemp and Lukas' battle rages on at the front of the roof, the Silver Fang is climbing up the side, gaining on the third rung of the stairs and, hoisting back her arm, lets sail a well-pack ball of snow over the side, aiming, one hoped, to hit one of the apparent twenty or so foes on the rooftop.
She then resumes climbing.
[Ewan Selwyn] *The tall lanky figure calmly steps two steps to the side to avoid getting his face bashed in by what ever the hell the 'basket' is that kemp dropped*
[Imogen Slaughter] The kinwoman blinks several times as the backsplash of the snow that had hit Kemp directly in the face. She lets go soon after he's released the basket, stepping back and away from the roof top's edge. It, however, coincides with Katherine pitching her snow ball up over the roof. The snowball hits the kinwoman in the calf, splattering white snow over her pressed slacks. The kinwoman's reaction is abrupt, half turning in the direction of the hit (there is no one there yet) and then looking down at her marred pants with something like resignation.
"Brilliant," she says with resignation, stepping further away from the roof's edge. Imogen is not precisely the type of person to participate in a snow ball fight - though it seems likely she'll likely be involved by association, this time around.
A sharp-eyed glance at Kemp, "Next time yeh want help on a science experiment," she says, "yeh're on yer own."
[Nessa] Plausible deniability.
No, officer, I have no idea why that stranger threw snowball into her house. No, officer, I don't know those werewolves up there on rooftop, disturbing peace in this neighborhood. Da, Do arrest them. They are all troublemakers.
Or she could just deny she knows any of them at all.
Nessa shrugs, and stirs more milk into the dark mixture bubblinh in the pot on her stove.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] A small avalanche comes down on Lukas' head. Some of it hits Dylan too, but the Ahroun, being in the lead, and being the larger target, and being closer, takes the lion's share of it. He ducks instinctively, hands over head, which of course only succeeds in covering both arms and half his back in snow along with his head and shoulders. Snow is sliding down his collar; snow is seeping through his sweater and his shirt, clammy and wet. He bursts up the last flight of stairs, grabs the edge of the building with both hands and hauls himself up, covered, nay, DRENCHED in powdery white snow: the abominable snowgarou himself.
Lukas pauses an instant to catch his breath and wipe snow out of his eyes. Then he sucks in a deep breath.
"FOR THE CIRCLE!" he bellows -- a terrible warcry if ever there was one -- and on that note, flings himself in a full-body tackle at ... well, honestly, whoever's closest.
[Ewan Selwyn] *Moving over to the fire escape the bundeled form crouched then launched himself up with surprising dexterity. Hands withdrawn from pockets grip the bottom rung of the fire escape and with a scraping sound of bone on bone, the man starts to ascend*
[Kemp Oates] He made the mistake of looking back at Imogen to open his big mouth.
"It IS an experiment. Oh man, ya got h....."
And then there was something big slamming into his back with the bellowed warcry and he was going down all arms and legs in a tangle with Lukas, cackling like mad as he tried to shove snow down anything he could on Lukas.
"RUN!!!"
Called to Imogen in the middle of the scuffle. At least, he thinks it might of come out, even if it might of sounded like nonsense.
[Katherine Bellamonte] As Lukas and Dylan burst over the edge of the roof, roaring their battle-cry in a full frontal attack, their back up finally emerges from the side, cutting off any and all possible retreat from the snowball frenzy -- Katherine, her long hair dusted with snowflakes, cheeks warm from the excitement leaps into the fray with her hands armed with snowballs.
She spots the kinswoman and with a wide smile, raises her arm high above her head to deliver the killing blow.
Oh, the humanity.
Oh, Imogen's slacks.
Katherine lets fly with snowballs, some raining down on the tangle of arms and legs that is Lukas and Kemp.
[Imogen Slaughter] Katherine leaps over the edge and spots Imogen - just as Imogen turns to face her. The kinwoman's unarmed - a disadvantage of refusing to play when everyone else is - and has little more recourse other than raising her arm to cover her face as the snow balls splatter her coat - her slacks.
There's a break in the rhythm of them - enough for the kinwoman to lower her arm.
"He's the one you want." A gesture gives Kemp up as she lowers a hand, brushing absently at her coat, eyeing the Silver Fang warily to see if another round comes her way.
[Ewan Selwyn] *A few moments later and Ewan achieves the roof. Climbing up the last ladder of the fire escape he perches there on the edge. Crouched, all knees and elbows and seeming sharp joints under the warm clothing. His glassy clear blue eyes watching the melee. If he's motivated to intervene, it doesn't show in the eyes, the only bit of him currently uncovered*
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] 'He' being, of course, currently tangled with Lukas, who is doing his best to forcefeed Kemp a cubic meter or so of snow.
Then Dylan, standing at the edge of the roof, clears her throat as a stranger ascends toward them. And like that, Lukas stops what he's doing. It means he gets another handful of snow shoved down the back of his shirt unresisting, but his mood has changed abruptly and palpably: from playful to cautious. He lets go of Kemp and gets to his feet, untucking his shirt at the back to let an unbelievable amount of snow slide out.
He's on his feet, facing the ladder, when Ewan gains the edge. He's wet, messy, his shirt is untucked and there's snow in his hair, but even so the young Ahroun has a certain poise about him, a palpable sense of confidence. His pale eyes, nearly colorless in this light, observe Ewan for a second. The other's attire in and of itself is odd. It's cold, but not that cold -- freezing, thereabouts -- and even at its coldest, you'd be hard pressed to find a man wandering around the city with nothing but his eyes showing through his arctic gear. Add in the fact that he climbed up toward a rather brutal play-fight between werewolves, and his supernaturality is all but assured.
Lukas glances at Kemp: "Friend of yours?"
[James Wagner] ( Locations? )
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (rooftop across from nessa's house)
[Kemp Oates] He rolled over on his back after he got that last shove down Lukas' shirt when the other rolled to his feet. Snow was stuck in his hair, nostrils and on his lashes and in his ears. He sputtered and shot a snowball straight at Ewan on the edge of the roof there.
"TARGET!!!! ATTACK!!! ALL HANDS ON DECK!!! WARNING, WARNING WILL ROBINSON!!"
Another snowball already on the way.
[Nessa] (this is not in Cabrini green proper. This is in the border of East Ukranian Village. Little old houses one side, cabrini the other!)
[Ewan Selwyn] *Ok That was NOT expected. The glassy clear blue eyes widen and WACK Ewan takes it right in the face.. head jerks back and arms extend, then he's simply gone, fallen off the edge of the roof where he'd perched. There's an agonizing time, time seems to stretch before the CLANG!!! Resounds of him having fallen one story to land on the fire escape. Or at least kareened off it. CRASH a few seconds later as he hits the closed dumpster at the bottom seems to indicate the second.*
[Kemp Oates] He got quiet a second, then headed towards the edge.
"Oops? That had to hurt....."
Cupping his hands around his mouth to call down.
"Hey! Ya dead?"
[Katherine Bellamonte] One target successfully down, the Philodox ceases her barrage of snowballs at the kinswoman as she surrenders the mastermind behind the attacks and pivots on her heel, hand already poised to slap snow in Kemp's face. Instead, she encounters a stranger watching them, dressed like a member of the SWAT team and one fair eyebrow lifts in silent query.
Smack!
The stranger drops from the side of the roof, and Katherine cannot contain her laughter, even as she aims her final snowball and lets it go, aimed directly for the backside of the instigator, now peering over the edge.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] A body falling off the rooftop, of course, makes Mrs. Petrovich's ghetto sister in law launch into another tirade of threats and insults. If the police are coming, though, they're taking their damn time.
Meanwhile, Lukas brushes the last of the snow out of his hair -- what hadn't already melted -- and does his best to dust it off his pants.
"I recognize you," he says to Imogen, perhaps unexpectedly. Certainly unexpectedly serious, considering about thirty seconds ago he was shouting something about circles and leaping on Kemp like a rabid retriever dog. "Chinatown yesterday; the tea shop about a week before." He finishes cleaning himself up the best he can; when he looks at her, his eyes are a startling, ice-strewn blue, very pale. "You're obviously kin to the Fianna, but both times you avoided introducing yourself to your tribesmen."
[Ewan Selwyn] *There was a weak groan from below, then a strained voice, muffeled by the scarf around his face or pain, possibly a combination of the two.* I.... think... I landed... on a cat.....
*A ratteling crunch as Ewan rolled off the dumpster to collapse ungracefully on the alley floor and a few more crunches as his shattered bones start to sort themselves out.
If Kemp's eyes are keen, they'd see that Ewan was wrong. he didn't land on a cat. Looks more like what's left, at one time was a Lopsa-opsa that had been trying to get into the dumpster for food*
[Kemp Oates] He blinked as he got hit in the ass with a thump of snow.
"Oh man....Doc....."
Turning to face his attacker as he half squatted down, knees spread and leaned forward much like a dog would with his hands hanging down between his knees."
"That weren't so nice. Ya could of put my eye out or something if my eye was there."
Then he called out.
"Glad ya ain't dead!"
And with that he started shoveling snow from between his knees like a dog digging in the dirt, sending the shower over the edge towards poor Ewan and he introed Imogen to Lukas.
"That's Dr. Slaughter, adviser to the stars. Doctor to the dead. Long suffering Kin and the best damned shot there is."
He was merrily shoveling away the entire time.
"Get over here and help Kat. I can't shovel all this shit by myself."
[Imogen Slaughter] The kinwoman is dusting off her coat and hair when Kemp leaps up, screeching and throwing snow balls. Ewan falls over the edge. Her brow contracts briefly, but more out of disbelief than concern - before she flicks a glance toward Lukas as he speaks. It's unexpected.
Kemp introduces her for him, and she turns her head sharply, an eyebrow arching. A moment later, she turns her attention back to the Shadow Lord.
"I suppose that's as good an introduction as any. I don't recognize my tribesmates. I haven't got their -" there's a weight she places on the word, a certain stressing as she pronounces the simple, english word, "senses."
[Katherine Bellamonte] (BRB! Rescuing gingerbread cookies from oven!)
[Ewan Selwyn] Aww fuckin' mother.. *CRuuuch a spiral fracture of the left tibula rotates itself out and mends* Quit that shit man! 'S fuckin' cold! *A few more crunches and Ewan manually reaches down to twist his arm back in place. Crrrrunch.... Then slowly. Ever so slowly. stands to stagger about 10 feet down the alley before falling down. Now out of the dog dug cascade of snow from above* Ugg. *The body was healing. Wrapped in all that winter gear. It was sorting itself out. Another minute or two and he'd be ok. Well... as close to ok as he ever got*
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas considers this for a moment. Then, flicking a glance at Kemp's introduction, he draws a breath, straightens up.
"Fair enough. I'm Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Cliath Ahroun of the Shadow Lords, Beta of the Unbroken Circle. These are my packmates, Katherine Truth's-Meridian, Cliath Philodox of the Silver Fangs, and Dylan Dying-Light, Cliath Galliard of the Glass Walkers."
It's a rare Garou who'd introduce himself fully to a mere kin. Somehow, Imogen, perceptive as she is, probably suspects it's more formality and courtesy than true respect that prompts the introduction.
"As for your tribemates, the tall blond one -- not the surfer-boy with the muscles but the other one, with the golden skin -- he is a Fostern of your tribe, a Philodox. His name is Buried-Hatchet. There's another one too, that you met in front of the tea shop. He's the one that crashed his car."
[Kemp Oates] "She ain't Fianna, Lukas."
He was leaning over the edge again, looking for Ewan.
"Think I buried him......well shit...."
[Ewan Selwyn] *When Kemp peeks over the second time he'd see Ewan stagger out of the shadows and then the face tilt up to look aloft. Those glassy clear blues lock on Kemp and the man leaps again. Gripping the bottom rung of the fire escape, Ewan ascends again*
[Imogen Slaughter] She doesn't look at Kemp this time, when he speaks, but the edge of her mouth tightens, an expression barely perceptible.
The kinwoman is slight - slender even in her heavy coat. Her vibrant hair is dampened slightly from Katherine's snow - slightly disarrayed, strands brushing her cheek, her neck. She pushes the strands back from her eyes, tucking them behind her ear.
"Imogen Slaughter," perhaps it's a full introduction for a full introduction, though her tone is nearly flat, devoid of emotion. "They call me Fenrir now."
A pause, just a beat. "A pleasure."
[Kemp Oates] "And maybe not...."
He turned, stepping away from the edge.
"The doctor has been Fenrir longer than I knew I was one. Hell, I think she was just born with the wrong color hair and shit. It happens to the best of us."
He shrugged, hitching is pants up with a jerk of his head towards the edge of the roof.
"He's still alive, coming back up. Cops ain't gonna be too much further off either."
[Kemp Oates] ((ok guys, between drugs and all, I'm fading fast))
to Dylan Swan, Ewan Selwyn, Imogen Slaughter, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Nessa
[Katherine Bellamonte] (oh, sorry, forgot to say -- back! :P)
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] They call me Fenrir now.
Imogen can see the way Lukas' eyes flicker between her and Kemp. Shadow Lord, he named himself, and his heritage is plain for anyone to see: the dark hair, the swarthy skin, the wide brow and cut cheekbones. In that face, his eyes are strikingly pale. They catch what little light there is, and glitter.
"Oh, I see." His tone says assumptions have been made. "Sorry, Rhya," to Kemp. "If I had known, I wouldn't have bothered to ask -- about Nessa."
[Ewan Selwyn] *A gloved hand comes up from below and grips the edge of the roof. Then the rest of Ewan pulls itself over and hops onto the roof proper. No perching on the edge this time. The hat with ear flaps has been stuffed in a pocket, showing close cropped dark hair. The scarf is now being untwined and shaken out as he approaches the group. A wedge.. no a shard of bone gleams in the moonlight, reflecting almost silverish from his cheek, just below the opitical. Sticking out almost like a shark fin from the flesh. Those glassy clear blue eyes taking in those gathered more wairaly this time. His flight not having endeared warm fuzzy thoughts*
[Imogen Slaughter] "Not him," notes the redhead.
"You'll have to excuse me," she continues. "I'd rather not be here when the police arrive."
[Kemp Oates] It was his turn to look lost.
"Huh?"
His brow screwed up and he looked at Imogen, then Lukas and a little chuckle bubbled up. Then another chuckle and it turned to full out roaring laughter.
"That is so wrong! It would be like kissing my mother, man. Besides she's got an Adren, why would she settle for a Fostern?"
[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine Bellamonte slips her gloved fingers into the pockets of her black and white checkered coat and turns her pale eyes on the Kinswoman Imogen Slaughter -- her scrutiny is obvious as she moves to stand beside Dylan -- Katherine is all height and elegance, her own breeding quite plain.
"Fianna turned Fenrir?" The eyes are full of questions, the voice suggesting the surprise at the defection. Then Imogen makes to leave, and Miss Bellamonte extends one hand, a quick flick of her fingers towards her slacks. "I hope they aren't dry-clean only."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] In the darkness, it's hard to see the faint flush that creeps up the Ahroun's cheek.
"My mistake," he says. "I just thought -- well," he recovers, and the corners of his mouth turn up, "she was helping you throw snowballs at me. You can see how the mistake might be made."
The cops are coming. Imogen would rather not be here when they arrive. Lukas glances over his shoulder as if he could pinpoint their arrival. Then, turning back, "I agree. Let's meet at Nessa's. She's kin to my tribe. It's right across the street, but if we circle around it should be less suspicious."
[Ewan Selwyn] *A tilt of his head, very keen senses blessed to him by his totem and he nods to those gathered. Indeed police were coming. A bit of a sigh and he too turns to go*
[Kemp Oates] "She wasn't throwing snowballs. She was here in the name of science. I just didn't explain fully the experiament and your arrival was unexpected. Though I gotta say, it was great timing. Ewan, make nice with the nice boys and girls. I gotta go for a bit."
He was defending Imogen's part in the battle, making invites and giving orders even as he went for the stairs to pelt down them as if he had to hit the can and fast.
"I'll catch up later!"
[Imogen Slaughter] Katherine speaks - Imogen ignores the first question - the curiousity observed by a glance, before the flick of a finger toward her slacks causes her eyes to drop.
"I have others," she answers, absently.
A glance at Lukas as he speaks. A pause, before a slight nod and she turns to head toward the fire escape.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine's eyes linger on the kinswoman as she looks away to focus on Lukas, evidently the discoveries that she was not only highly purebred but also mated to an Adren have raised her from simply another kinfolk to a figure of supreme interest in the Silver Fang's eyes. Her fixation wanes in favor of the departure of Kemp and the stranger now known simply as Ewan and she takes to the stairs behind the redheaded doctor, so titled, trouping in a round about sort of manner towards the Shadow Lord Kin's residence.
"Tell me, Ms Slaughter," Katherine paces herself with Imogen. "How long have you been in this city?"
[Imogen Slaughter] She flicks a glance toward Katherine as the Garou falls into step with her. "It's Doctor," she says off-hand, stepping over the small retaining wall of the rooftop and climbing down onto the fire escape. It clangs sharply as her heeled shoes hit the metal mesh. "Or Imogen."
She takes the stairs of the fire escape nimbly, without touching the railing. "I've been in th'city fer five years or so. " A quick, assessing glance. "You've not been here long, I expect."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] As Katherine and Imogen start down the fire escape -- Damn it, I left my coat on the second-story landing. Grab it for me, will you?
For his part, he doesn't follow. Whatever Lukas said about moving around the back, circling around, walking, is evidently a lie.
When the others have left the rooftop, he kicks snow over their tracks, gets rid of the evidence, cleans up. Then -- borrowing the shadow of the building furnace -- he presses across the Gauntlet. The strands are thick here in the heart of the city, the webbing stiff and resilient. Still, his totem affords him a certain advantage. It takes him a handful of seconds to fade completely away.
...
Three, four minutes later -- quite abruptly -- the very weave and weft of reality in Nessa's kitchen shreds open. Thin air twists into a sort of luminous diffuse glow, then a protrusion, then a fracturing, clinging network of gleaming metallic strands, from which erupts forth the dark, solid form of Lukas Wyrmbreaker. He shakes off the last of the grasping webwork. The strand ping as they hit the ground, but if she looks for them later, she won't find a trace. They vanish like dry ice in the sun, sublimating to nothing.
"Hi, Nessa." As if it were an everyday occurrence for semi-strange Garou to pop into her kitchen. "There's company coming -- my packmate, another kin. Think you can do something about those dogs?"
[Katherine Bellamonte] "Oh, I do apologize." She does not sound particularly so, however, she sounds rather more as if the apology were an absent amendment and presses on as they begin to descend, the Philodox's heavy boots vibrating the metal slightly as she steps down onto the first platform; smiling slightly with her face turned toward the next set of steps as she herself is regarded; tall and pale, her pack-mate's request drawing a vaguely irritated I am not your maid, you realize, nevertheless, she collects Lukas' heavy coat as they pass, draping it over her arm.
"No, not long at all. And tell me, when were you mated to your Fenrir?"
[Nessa] Nessa's house is apparently still, save for music. Her dogs are inside and quiet, though Gaia only knows what obedience is costing them. Nessa better pay up with some damned good treats, and none of that vegetarian shit either. The music has changed, now plays some nice cheerful Prokofiev, though only damned good ears could hear it from across the street. Soothing, relaxing. This house could almost be any other on the block. Just as Nessa could almost be any other Shadowlord kin.
Just a nice, innocent, law abiding household.
When he
The kinfolk does not appear greatly suprised, no.
"MOOSE! SQUIRREL! Down! Go lie down!! Privyet, Lukas. My son is two rooms away. Please stay far over there. Ahh.. If you all come in here is.. you will disturb my son I think. He is not yet one year old."
Any minute likely. The living room, kitchen, 2 bedrooms, not enough space? No wait, one room folded aorund the others. Damn. Nessa looks at him then at the child.
"Have a coffee and I meet you outside in back? Keep dogs in here?"
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] And I don't like kicking snow over Kemp-rhya's rancid piss, but you don't see me bitching about it. The retort is customarily sharp.
Truthfully, Lukas is more often than not a little ashamed of his interactions with Katherine after the fact. He strives for a certain levelness of temperament; a certain respectability in his form and conduct. Then he gets presented with La Dame Bellamonte, and it all flies out the window. He's up to his elbows in mudslinging and petty retorts.
It's beneath him. It's behavior that shames him more so than her. He knows this. It still doesn't change the instinct to snap and snarl.
"We'll try not to disturb Truth-in-Frenzy-rhya's son. That said, we're going to have to be inside. I threw a snowball through a window, and then Kemp tossed a Garou off a roof." Well, that wasn't exactly how it happened, but it was close enough. "Your neighbor saw at least part of it and called the police." He spots the mugs of mocha. "May I?"
[Imogen Slaughter] There's a brief glance as Katherine retrieves her packmate's coat. It may seem a little random to her - but if it does, there's little to reveal it.
Her next question draws no glance, but several steps of silence continue.
"I'm not sure why that matters."
[Nessa] "Ah. Well. Off roof? Hm." She nods as if oh yes, Kemp does that sort of thing, doesn't he? Honestly, he really does. Her head whips towards the back of the house as if she heard something.
"ahh.. yes. Is poured for you and whomever comes tonight. Here, have bread too. Is edible Ahh ,maybe if you all stay on this side.. he is on opposite side. Maybe pacifier and ahh plushy wolf..." The woman bites her lip, and frowns, trying to figure out how to keep Luc calm with those coming. "Maybe if you all think calm peaceful thoughts? I will be right back."
Nessa scurries off to check on her son, snagging his favorite pacifier on the way. And a cuddly toy in the shape of a gray wolf.. And a fuzzy blue blanket. "
[Katherine Bellamonte] Oh, this is you not bitching? I'm a picture of mortification, dearest Lukas. It just sounds so similar.
You would be hard pressed to imagine that two individuals who dressed and spoke with such careful, considered speech were at the same time engaging in the equivalent of a school yard hair-pulling, fist-throwing fight. Katherine's question draws silence for several steps and then: I'm not sure why that matters.
The Silver Fang laughs, a pleasant, feminine noise.
"I'm curious, I suppose. But you needn't answer if it discomforts you."
[Imogen Slaughter] A faint smirk flickers across her mouth - unseen until she glances over her shoulder. The Fang can catch the edge of it just before it fades. "It was before Chicago," she answers, simply. "I never tracked the date."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Just shut up. Well, that was mature. Later, we'll talk. There are a few things I've been meaning to ask you.
"It's only my packmate and I." Lukas' voice follows her. The house is not large; she can hear him relatively well even from the far reaches, though distance dulls the higher harmonics of his voice, allowing the underlying bass timbre to vibrate through. "Katherine's Rage is not overwhelming. And the other is a kin, a Dr. Slaughter."
He takes a sip of the mocha, finds it tolerable, and takes another. When Nessa returns, he's seated at the kitchen table, the cheap mug dwarfed in his hands, the table dwarfed by his broad-shouldered frame. He watches her approach, then nods her into the chair opposite.
"While we're alone," he says, "I meant to tell you this earlier: I spoke to Kemp yesterday. He maintains his claim over your son, but you remain kin to the Shadow Lords. So what we spoke of the other night stands. I'd appreciate it if you informed me of any major occurrences in your life."
[Katherine Bellamonte] As they descend the last of the fire-escape stairs and reach ground level; Katherine is quite silent -- perhaps considering the information she has extracted (what few scrapes they are) from the Doctor.
Lukas snaps at her to just shut up and while she does obey this command there is the sense of the female's smug satisfaction at the end result of their private exchange. Meanwhile, toward the kin-woman with her the blond aristocrat begins anew with a fresh question.
Oh, lovely.
"Your mate must have high standing in this Sept, did I not overhear that he was an Adren?"
[Katherine Bellamonte] (you know, once I could spell things. scraps, not scrapes.)
[Imogen Slaughter] They're on the ground now, circling around the building to head for Nessa's apartment - or at least where Imogen guesses it is, assuming Katherine will take up the direction eventually.
"If Kemp says he's an Adren, it must be true," she says. "I don't keep track, myself. But he's not part of the Sept."
A shrewd glance, likely divining the Philodox's insatiable curiousity. "And if yeh want to know anything more about that, you'll to ask a Sept member."
[Imogen Slaughter] (ahem. "You'll have to ask a Sept member.")
[Nessa] "Imogen. Da, I know her. She and your packmate are welcome. You say I am still kin to you then? I am still .. welcome?" She doesn't neeed to repeat the phrase. He knows perfectly well what he said, and so does she, but there is apparently space between the parts of her brain which hear a thing, and those which truly understand. Nessa the parrot hasn't got so far yet.
For all she is apparently plain in face, save for the subtle hints of her breeding, this little house expresses far more of her personality. The walls she has painted in rich warm shades of ruby and chocolate, with vanilla seriously shabby chic furnishings, all gleaned from some thrift store. She's done some wierd things here, like used an old suitcase for a n end table. What art she has is made from things once considered junk; all of what she has brought into this house, what is visible in this room at least, was deeply Unappreciated at one time. And yet, she gives it new life. Paint, polish. Environmental stickers with a message garou can get behind cover irreparable dings. Nothing beyond saving.
Kinda like Nessa? Or maybe like someone else.
"I... you request..." Having slipped into the chair opposite Lukas, then stands, to go to the fridge and begin pulling certian things out. A plate of cheese, boiled peeled eggs. Marinated veggies. More importantly, a large bottle of really nice vodka, fresh stolen. These she brings over, with the bread. Dispenses them. "Please, eat what you wish. I do not keep meat or would offer it to you."
She sits again, then stands, looking towards Luc's room again. "You wish my agreement to your protection. Da, I know is formality. I understand, and appreciate your thoughtfulness. But words are small things, Lukas. Simplest thing to agree. What else do you wish of me?"
Its not precisely that she is confused, or eager, or reluctant, or rattled, or happy, shy or any one emotion. More truthfully, even Nessa will be challenged sorting any of these strong sensations for some time.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine begins to move toward the small yard that earlier had housed two rather excitable canines; her boots sinking into the dusting of snow covering the sidewalk -- she navigates her way back across the street, carefully avoiding the same icy puddle as before and turns her head to regard the kinswoman as she answers with a small, polite smile.
"Oh no," she smiles, and pushes open Nessa's gate with one hand, waiting for Imogen to pass her by. "You've been very helpful, Doctor Slaughter."
It's clear Katherine is filing all this information away for retelling at a later point in time.
We're at the door, she informs Lukas, her tone evidently suggesting he open it for them.
[Imogen Slaughter] "I'm sure." There is a sense of irony in her tone.
She follows the Silver Fang up to the door, casting the blonde woman a glance as she merely stands there silently, but makes no move to actually remedy the situation by knocking.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas looks at the quasi-vegetarian fare she sets out with some amusement, and perhaps with some understanding as well. It's a simple, humble, inexpensive dinner, and Nessa's home is simple, humble, and inexpensive. Apparently, not all Shadow Lords lived like kings. But then, Lukas would know something about that.
After a moment's consideration, he reaches for the bread, tearing off a hunk. Adds an egg, some salt. A kinder man might refuse and leave the food for the kinwoman; but a man like Lukas, who understands the meaning of sharing a meal, and the laws of hospitality, and the grave insult of refusing it, would never do such a thing. He makes himself a sandwich, and pokes gentle fun at the fare she offers.
"A kin to Shadow Lords, princes amongst predators, and you don't eat meat? That's embarrassing."
As for vodka: he adds a nip to his mocha (and no, he doesn't care if the flavors clash), but not a lot. Lukas is a creature who understands moderation. He takes a bite of his impromptu sandwich, washes it down with coffee.
"We don't need anything else at the moment, Nessa." It's anyone's guess what 'we' refers to: the pack, the tribe, the royal we. "But I'll you know if we do.
"By the way, could you get the door? I think they've arrived." -- this, before anyone has knocked or rang.
[Nessa] One of her hobbies. A makeshift dartboard is along one exterior wall, in the little living area. Someone's photo was up there, but the center is hacked so much to pieces that the identity of her target is lost. No knives, for the slits in the board most certainly did not come from darts, are visible.
Most approvingly, Nesssa watches the garou prepare food, accept her hospitality. Her left shoulder unknots. "Embarrassing more, for me to slaveringly gobble all meat, and leave non for my fellow meat-eating shadowlord kin. See? I am thoughtful. In truth though I cannot stand smell of cooking meat. Especially guhh grilled. Raw is different. But I am out of habit of having it now."
They don't need anything else at the moment. Her lips twitch, barely rosy with some sort of gloss. "I am sure you will." By the time she turns away, there is a grin, and its on HER face, in her house, across from a Shadowlord.
Not your average Tuesday night.
The women don't need to knock. Nessa's docs, torn between growling and a sort of distressed whining, from the OTHER side of the living room as far from Lukas as they could get, are near to exploding as Katherine and Imogen walk through the gate, into the yard and up the steps.
Nessa rises at the same time Lukas begins to ask her to get the door.
[Nessa] "Privyet, Imogen, Miss. Be welcome- I go Hush Moose! Put the dogs Squirrel! Stop that! Down! Back! In the backyard..."
And she turns away to let the ladies entre while she hustles close to 200 pounds of Alsatians out the other door.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Imogen's glance is met with one of Katherine's own, a small smile on her lips that says wait and see and sure enough -- the door is opened and the Shadow Lord kinfolk known as Agnessa stands before them. Katherine Bellamonte is not a small woman, at 5'8 she can appear somewhat imposing, especially if the woman takes it upon herself to wear boots with a sizable heel to them as she so frequently does.
Into Nessa's simple, humble and inexpensive home floats the Kinwoman Imogen and the Silver Fang Katherine and how out of place Miss Bellamonte must look in her expensive coat and gloves, her scarf half uncurled around her neck, the string of pearls around her neck peeking from beneath the collar. She surveys her surroundings slowly, removing her gloves finger by finger as she eventually locates Lukas, and with an imperious look, offers over his coat.
[Imogen Slaughter] There's no answering smile in the kin, but at the same time, no surprise as the door opens. The kinwoman's rather dwarfed by the taller Silver Fang - who has a good six inches on her, even without her heels.
"Agnessa," it's a greeting the Shadow Lord kin has heard at least a few dozen times from the impassive ex-Fianna. She steps inside the woman's humble abode, removing her gloves, but making no move to remove her coat.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas has not come to the door, but he has stood up from his ... dinner. Or snack. Whatever one might call a meal in the middle of the night, consisting of boiled eggs and bread, and vodka-spiked mocha.
There's a curious formality in his figure, the way he stands up, the way he moves. One might almost expect him to bow to the women. Of course, he doesn't.
"Dr. Slaughter, Katherine. Come on in." He takes his coat from Katherine -- he even thanks her -- and lays it over the back of his chair. "Thought maybe you'd gotten lost, or detained by the authorities." He looks over their shoulders, outward: it's not hard from his vantage point. When he stands, he towers, well over six feet tall. "Did they ever show up, or was the woman only bluffing?"
They settle wherever they might. They sit or they don't. Lukas resumes his seat, and his meal.
"I have to say, Dr. Slaughter," he tears a small chunk from his bread, "it sort of surprises me that your former tribe isn't trying harder to reclaim a kinwoman of your breeding. You might not have the 'senses' to tell a Fianna wolf from another, but they can certainly recognize you."
[Nessa] Nessa, too, is no competitor for height. In her current flats, she's around 5'6, simple, average height for her gender. Katherine is overdressed; yoga pants and a Cubs tee is about all Nessa's bothered with tonight.
With Katherine, it was too much. The dogs, denied the right to defend the house from what they KNOW are no ORDINARY Postal Workers (For this is the ultimate catagory of visitor who needs a lesson taught!), bolt out the back door, snarling back in the direction of Katherine and Lukas.
It's a bit much for a nearly one year old to sleep through. He's peeping with an instinctive anxiousness; Nessa sighs and calls out to the newcomers, "Is food and drink on table, please make yourselfs at home. I will be there in few moments."
Into the back bedroom she disappears, there to sing a Russian lullaby to a fussy infant in a fairly off key. When that's over, the sounds of gears beign turned is audible, then the music box starts up.
[Imogen Slaughter] "There was a car parked across the road. I doubt they'll call out the entire squad," she answers as she comes to stand just within the living area.
Lukas continues to speak and a copper eyebrow stirs briefly, then settles.
"I'm not in a position to answer as t'what the Fianna tribe does or why."
[Nessa] (Need to go to sleep soon!)
to Imogen Slaughter, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (i think mei has to sleep too. so... probably soon lukas and katherine will leave the house, and then you two can just assume imogen goes home and nessa goes to bed. or that they have a jammie party.)
to Imogen Slaughter, Katherine Bellamonte, Nessa
[Imogen Slaughter] (they're totally going to braid each other's hair.)
to Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Nessa
[Nessa] (Yes! Kinfolk jammie partie! They can paint each others toenails! and tell Wyrm stories! *Dies*)
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] For some reason, this makes Lukas laugh quietly, lowering his head, his face shadowing. When he looks at her again, the same humor -- genuine, it might surprise her to see -- glints in his pale eyes.
"I'm trying in vain to pry a little gossip out of you, Dr. Slaughter. It's bewildering. Most kin would be falling over themselves to tell me their life stories by now."
[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine, for her part, settles her long limbs on a sofa, carefully smoothing out the lines of her clothing and laying her coat -- once removed -- over her lap, gloves tucked away in a pocket. She sits with a practiced sort of poise, her back very straight, chin raised and legs crossed. When she feels inclined to sample Nessa's offered food items, she spreads a napkin over her lap and carefully tenders apart pieces of bread -- she eats around the crust.
Katherine's eyes follow the kinwoman as she nibbles thoughtfully at a small piece of bread.
She pats down her lap in search of crumbs. "Perhaps it's because I already asked after her, Lukas." Katherine's mouth twists a little in humor. "Imogen and I bonded on the way over."
[Imogen Slaughter] She inclines her head slightly, perhaps a sort of acceptance of his observation, or simply his explanation of his motives.
"Perhaps I am not most Kin. But if yeh've asked me here fer my life story as gossip, I'm sorry to say you'll be disappointed," a pause - perhaps she's trying to recall his last name, then realising she had not received one. "Sir."
[Nessa] Maybe its the sofa that does it, since Katherine has lounged too close then, to the baby's room, unlike Lukas who has stayed in the dining area. Like a good wolf. Maybe it wouldn't matter, for two garou and one of them of Lukas's rage, are a lot for a small one to handle. Or in this case, Loudly Not handle.
Nessa, harried in the way of many mothers of fussy children in the night, emerges briefly to switch out blankies, stuffed plushy toys, and to suggest "I could be longer... Sorry!" And she whisks herself back into the baby's room, shuts the door, and croons again. Off-key. There are rocking chair sounds too.
[Nessa] (ok nitght! Sleep well! when you guys get to it!)
to Imogen Slaughter, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (thanks for the RP share!!!! y'know, all 4 posts of it.)
[Katherine Bellamonte] (night share! thanks for RP!)
to Imogen Slaughter, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Nessa
[Imogen Slaughter] (Thanks for the RP!)
[Nessa] (Hah!! happy xmas too guys!)
to Imogen Slaughter, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Katherine says they bonded on the way over. Lukas' eyes flicker briefly to his packmate. "Ridiculous. The only thing you ever bonded to, Katherine, was the layer of permafrost under your skin."
It's spoken lightly -- but coolly. No love lost there; even a stranger, particularly a perceptive one like Imogen, can see that.
Still. They are pack, and an unusually closeknit pack. There's a sense that these two belong to the same greater whole. There's a sense of connection between them, though one sits at the humble little dinner table like a king, and the other occupies the sofa like a queen.
And then there's Imogen. Standing -- but certainly not out of deference. There had been no deference in that word either, 'sir'. Not much of anything, in fact. No deference, no mockery; no implicit sense of respect. It makes Lukas study her for a moment, serious now, this Garou easily ten years younger than her, that nonetheless, and without a doubt, considered himself her better by simple virtue of birth.
Perhaps I am not most Kin, Imogen says, and the Shadow Lord's clear blue eyes smile, though his face remains solemn. There's a true charisma in him, and a true lack of malice. Perhaps it only makes his presumptions of status all the more galling.
"I think I've figured that out already," he says, wry. "But no, I'm not looking for a life story. I'm only curious, and anyway, this is as good a place as any to dodge the cops."
He finishes his egg, his coffee. Picks up the loaf of bread, and offers it to her as though this were his home, his table. "There's coffee on the stove," he adds. "And, just Lukas, please. A kin mated to an Adren shouldn't have to call a Cliath 'sir'."
There's no accent on his voice, though slavic europe is stamped deeply in his bones and blood. He speaks good American English, which to Imogen must sound long- and soft-voweled, carried higher and farther back on the tongue than she's used to. However, when he says his name, Lukáš, with a sharp aspirated 's', there's absolutely no doubt that his first language was not English.
[Katherine Bellamonte] "Oh," she drawls, her eyes clear and undaunted. "You are such a wit, why ever did Gaia not make you a storyteller?" Eyebrow raised, Katherine carefully sets her coat aside to rise elegantly and wander to partake of the aforementioned coffee on the stove.
She pours a cup, her back to the conversation between the Shadow Lord and adopted Fenris kinfolk.
[Imogen Slaughter] The slight woman's gaze is even as Lukas studies her. She waits for him to make whatever decision he will about her, with every sense that whatever he decides will have little to no impact upon her.
"Hm." Acknowledgement of his statement, but no use of his name. "Be that as it may, I don't believe I'll be satisfyin' yer curiousity tonight."
She glances briefly at her watch.
"S'been long enough, I think, and I ha' work to do." A flick of her gaze toward the turned back of the tall blonde. "Ha' a good night, then." Much like when she'd said it was a pleasure to meet them, when she'd called Lukas 'sir', these words are formality only. She does not bother to imbue them with sincerity.
[Katherine Bellamonte] "Farewell, Doctor Slaughter." Katherine is holding her cup, resting it on the palm of her opposing hand as a makeshift saucer. Her smile, when she turns back is as practiced as her stature on the sofa had been, full of as much formality and as full of sincerity as the kinswoman's words of farewell are.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's a scrape of chair on floor -- Lukas stands, following her to the door. "Goodnight, Dr. Slaughter," he says as he sweeps it open. A gust of wintry chill swirls into the small living room; Lukas narrows his eyes out at the neighborhood, checking to be sure the cops are gone. Then, returning his attention to the slight, reserved kin, "Give my regards to your mate."
[Imogen Slaughter] It is something the kinwoman looks for too - the cops in the neighbourhood. It's marked by her pause at the threshold.
She glances at Lukas as he offers his regards to the Garou the nation would call her mate. There's no response necessary, her glance is acknowledgement enough. He knows she's heard him. So, she walks out without another word, stepping off the stoop to walk down the walk way, sliding on her gloves as she does.
The iron gate creaks as she pushes it open - she turns left and heads down the street.
[Katherine Bellamonte]
"Interesting woman," Katherine says casually when Lukas returns, she is stirring a spoonful of sugar into her coffee to sweeten the taste. She taps the spoon twice against the cup and sets it down carefully so that it does not stain the table, lifting it to her lips she swallows and goes on: "That mate of hers is not a member of the Sept, you know, I find that interesting."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker]
Lukas watches her go as far as the gate. Then he shuts the door, not bothering to lock it.
"That was the most unusually reticient Fianna kin I've ever met," he remarks, crossing the room to pick his coat up. Apparently, they were leaving as well. "Did she tell you any more, or is she universally closemouthed?"
[Katherine Bellamonte]
The Philodox takes a few more sips of her coffee until there is a little remaining and sets it down in favor of walking to the sofa and reclaiming her coat and gloves, musing as she did. "Not a great deal, she's been with her mate for over five years though, apparently since before she came to the city." Katherine slides her coat on, and pulls her hair from beneath her collar, slipping on her gloves and flexing her fingers into the soft leather.
"I would love to see this Adren of hers, a Fenrir with a Fianna kinfolk of her breeding is," Katherine's brow knits. "Not common. My Lord," she laughs softly. "Uncle would have a fit if he heard."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker]
Five years, she says. Lukas' eyebrows rise. He's tugging his coat on, slipping his scarf around his neck and knotting it, then tucking it into his coat as he buttons it up.
"Five years? Huh. Must have a whole pack of brats by now." A pause. "She hasn't let herself go, I'll give her that much." And the last buttons done up, the collar turned up, he pulls his gloves on and reopens the front door.
"At any rate," he ushers her out, "I've been waiting for a chance to ask you." The door shuts behind him with a firm click; he turns on her, eyebrows lowering. "Where the hell were you the day before yesterday? When we were meant to join Hatchet-rhya for a hunt. Did you forget?"
[Katherine Bellamonte]
He ushers her out the front door; and Katherine, one hand in her pocket and the other tendering aside strands of gold blond from her vision looks at her Beta quite steadily as he turns on her.
She has not spoken of precisely where she had been the night they went into battle -- the subject had simply not been broached by any in the pack to Katherine, and save for Lukas thumping on her door that evening -- she had not addressed it to anyone, either.
Of the few things to draw true discomfort in the Silver Fang were any snippets of gossip or slander caught by her ears in regards her family honor and as was most typically the case -- any at all relating to her brother, Edward. She looks at Lukas, her breath fogging in the cold winter's air.
"Of course I didn't forget." She stresses, stepping off the stoop. "There was some urgent business I had to attend to." Oh yes, because that would suffice for explanation to Lukas.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker]
"Urgent," Lukas replies, tasting the word. Quite levelly.
Frankly, it's hard to say if there exists an answer, at this point, that would not make Lukas more angry about her lack. It was bad enough that Mrena was detained by spiritual matters, but Mrena -- let's be honest -- is a tribemate, is not a silver fang, is not, most importantly, Katherine Bellamonte. But to lose not only the Theurge, but also the Philodox -- and without excuse, without any explanation --
Whatever elusive answer might've soothed him, what he gets is definitely not it.
He's stepped off the porch, into the snow. Imogen's footsteps are still fresh in it, leading to the gate, and to the left. He follows them, but does not tread in them. At the gate he turns right instead, heading for Katherine's cute little porsche.
"Urgent," he says again; and the timbre is different now, with a masked but very real strain. "And what, might I ask, could be so urgent that you would abandon your Beta in battle?"
[Katherine Bellamonte]
She had to have known he would not be satisfied by such an answer. And yet, she gave it freely and with little to no hesitation which begs the question -- why? Was she so incapable of freely admitting that she had been detained attempting to help her family? Or was it, ah, most likely, that it would injure her pride to lower the Bellamonte House with the admittance.
It had been bad enough to receive such a phone-call on her private cellphone; as if the object itself were sullied by association.
They are both making determined strides toward her silver Porsche, gleaming with fresh snow in the moonlight but Katherine's footsteps seem to tarry a little at the tone of Lukas' voice and she purses her lips, her spine straightening. "I did not abandon you, Lukas. I would never do such a thing."
And, yet.
She glances around, as if wary of Sept eavesdroppers. "It was Edward. He went out drinking and got involved in a fight." The elder Bellamonte daughter turns the mere word into something dirty. "I had to go and bail him out. Does that satisfy you?"
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker]
This stops Lukas dead.
The moon is a bare sliver tonight, long since set. The sky's overcast anyway, and the lights in this part of town are few and far between. He's a great dark shadow when he turns to her again, sharply. She can feel his rage rising, a great tide of electricity. If she meant this little disclosure, this little spate of honesty, as an olive branch, an ameliorating explanation, it's blown up in her face.
"You went to bail Edward out?" The Ahroun speaks softly: there's a rising drumbeat of fury behind it. "You left me to my own devices. Because Edward was drinking himself shitfaced instead of leading this pack -- again. And managed to land his wastrel ass in jail? Do you know what I faced without a single packmate at my back? Do you know I almost died? Do you know Buried-Hatchet, the very same Garou that Edward can't stop snapping at, saved my life? Do you--"
Abruptly, Lukas snaps his mouth shut. He's looming over her, the air around him nearly incandescent with his anger. He can hear his pulse in his ears, see his vision flare dimly red with every beat. He cannot remember the last time he was this angry. He cannot remember ever being this angry at the Bellamonte siblings.
The Ahroun turns away sharply. In his wake, the air seems paler, thinner, but breathable again. He slams Nessa's gate shut hard enough to rattle chainlink in both directions.
"You fucking Silver Fangs," he snarls. It's odd; he would never reveal this sort of resentment to the others of the pack, those who trusted him more, liked him more. There's a certain freedom in enmity; an enemy can sometimes know you better than the closest friend. "You fucking privileged, ignorant, careless pups."
[Katherine Bellamonte]
She can feel his rage, but she does not fear it.
Katherine Bellamonte was many things, several of which Lukas among others has already called her to her face tonight and many nights previous. She was privileged and arrogant and on many, many occasions a right haughty Duchess -- but she was not a coward, and she did not pale and shy away when an Ahroun's temper frayed and he snapped at her.
Who was she to fear him?
In contrast, while he fumes and snarls, she is absolutely quiet, and still. Only her eyes move, following his movement as he tells her that she is an ignorant, careless pup. He slams the gate and it is still rattling -- and the Shadow Lord Kinfolk's dogs are to be heard faintly barking, aroused to frenzy once more -- as Katherine opens it and follows him out.
"I did what I had to do to protect my family and I would do it again," she is angry with him, it's clear in both her voice and expression, but her rage is contained, moderated. "My brother is many things that disappoint me, but he is not a wastrel, and he will return and lead us."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker]
He wheels on her again as she follows him out. "Your brother" - he spits the words - "is choosing liquor and dice over his pack," his face is an inch from hers; another form and he could tear her face off with his teeth, "and you chose his ass in jail over mine in battle. Because I, clearly, am not family to you, no matter what I do for you and your brother. And my life is not worth half so much to you as an hour of your brother's freedom and an ounce of his pride."
[Katherine Bellamonte]
His face is an inch from hers and she lifts her chin that tad higher so that when she speaks it is as much an invasion of his personal space as his spitting and snarling is hers.
Your brother-!
"He is a good man and he is a worthy leader and you shall not speak badly of him in my presence!" She snarls over his words on liquor and dice and pack loyalty. When he goes on to tell her she does not value him, that he is not family, that --
"Lies!" She growls in an undertone, her breath hissing into his face. "I do what I was born to do as do you. I choose to follow Edward because it is what Gaia laid out for me to do. You have no idea what you say when you tell me I do not value my pack's lives. Do you think it was easy for me to walk away knowing you were going into battle? Do you think it is ever easy every time I push away what I want for the greater good of him?"
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker]
"Yes. He is a good man. I know that. There's no darkness in him, no malice or malevolence. But he's a shit leader, Katherine!" And now he's shouting at her in the street, in the dark. "Don't deny it! Don't lie to me, not on this. If you don't see it as clearly as I, you wouldn't be so angry now. What has he done that we have not taught him to do? What has he said that we did not write for him? Huh?"
Lukas turns abruptly away. He seizes Nessa's fence with his hands and shakes it, fiercely, until it rattles and the nearest post bends in its foundation.
It's no substitute for the raw violence his fury wants. But it's something; a start. When he turns back he's marginally calmer.
"Look. We both want the same thing. The best for Edward. But you coddling him, running to his rescue every time he stubs his toe or gets in a fight or lands in jail; that helps nothing. You have to -- we have to let him figure this out for himself. Sink or swim. He's the Alpha. If he can't pull his own weight -- " Lukas hesitates; even now, like this, the words are hard, are against his nature to speak. His jawline tenses, a belt of muscle stands out for a bit as he clenches his teeth.
Strange; when he releases, an icy calm settles in his mind -- blankets him like snow. He's steady now, eyes level.
"If he can't pull his own weight," he finishes, fully expecting her to strike him for it, "then he doesn't deserve to lead the Circle."
[Katherine Bellamonte]
Katherine flinches at those final words as if they were a death blow -- she wraps her arms around her body as if in physical pain and turns away abruptly -- walking a few steps, holding her arms over her body as if to prevent her innards spilling onto the street before she turns back, her expression both furious and uncertain.
He fully expected her to strike him for verbally renouncing her brother's capacity to lead and she does strike him, her palm against his cheek. But it is hardly a blow with her full rage behind it, it's barely a stinging blow. She strides back toward him, strikes him and then says quietly: "I know."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker]
She does strike him -- but not immediately. And in that moment that she turns away, there's a rush of something like fear in him: a deep and awful realization that she did not, in fact, disagree.
By the time she turns back, he already knows what she'll say. He accepts the slap without a word, without resistance, without a blink.
She knows, she says. And with that the rules change imperceptibly.
Lukas draws a slow breath in. Releases it. Another. "All right." A beat; he looks away. "All right then."
Another long pause. Then, slowly: "We continue as we planned, through the moot. And we will do what we must for the pack. But Edward is on his own. Whatever he does not think to say or do, we will not say or do for him. If he succeeds, then he is our Alpha in truth. If not -- then we will know he is not."
He meets her eyes again. There's something like regret echoing in his bones, though he can't put his finger on why. He holds his hand out. "Are we agreed?"
[Katherine Bellamonte]
Katherine's jaw is tight, Lukas can see she is clenching her teeth together, her nostrils flare as she struggles, struggles, struggles with what she has just said. To say she is a woman at war with her own better judgment is an understatement. She looks at the Shadow Lord, her features twisted in agitation -- looks sharply away as he speaks.
"He is my brother, Lukas." She sounds as if she is in pain.
He holds his hand out, and she looks down at it for a very long time, her hand moves, brushes against her thigh before she takes his hand, shaking it. "We are agreed." A beat, a shadow of something like bitter humor twists her mouth. "For once."
