karl and simon and potato juice.

[Karl Gyllenhammar] Late evening. Above, the waning crescent moon gives a valiant struggle with the clouds that lazily drift. The park never empty, despite the late chill, street lamps giving off their artificial orange glow, bathing it in shadows where the light fails to reach.

Among the shadows, walking casual comes the No moon. Hands in pockets of dark jeans, and his well-worn leather jacket providing what little he needs in terms of protection from the chill. Compared to his home, this is the warmth of early summer days, and not the chill of night.

Buzzed raven black hair, and chin darkened by a days growth of beard. He would not stand out in a crowd if it were not for the ever burning rage within, and the glacial blue gaze that never rests long in one place. Blood Summons had told him that no one cared for the park as their own, so while searching for a pack, the Rotagar had decided to do just that, when the caern or kin did not take his attention away.

[Simon] Blood and the musky smell of sweat were flushed away by the fragrance of soap rising off a freshly cleansed body. He had recently been at the Gym. The bag slung over his back carried his sweaty gym clothes which needed to be dragged home and tended to. His hands were wrapped tightly, but even then one could see splotches of blood seeping through where his knuckles had been bleeding. His entire body seemed to give off a hint of steam as the moisture that had remained from his shower was slowly converted to steam and dissipated into the atmosphere. It gave the appearance the Full Moon's blood was actually boiling.

A black sleeveless shirt covered his torso, leaving his arms bare, and apart from the bandages covering his fists and wrists, the artwork etched into his arms was quite visible. A pair of boots were draped over his shoulder where they dangled freely. He wore a pair of dark boot cut jeans which were nearly covering his bare feet as he stepped lightly through the grass enjoying the feel of cool grass and dirt on his feet.

Rage boiled beneath the surface, and while he might have appeared peaceful and serene that aura of discomfort surrounded him. Those who got too close could feel it, some it simply unsettled and others it terrified. Though he caught sight of those few who did flee he opted not to give chase. It was a difficult thing for a predator to have to learn not to chase his prey but there was far more complexity in this world than there had ever been in the past. So the Full Moon staved off his urges and instead savoured the simple pleasures in life.

The burning in his muscles, the stinging in his knuckles, the cool kiss of grass against his bare feet, the soft breeze colliding with his hot freshly showered skin. This was life, and it was cold, and it was beautiful, and it was real. This beast might contrast the civility of the world around him but he was still as much a part of it as night or day. He was nightmare made flesh and the night was his domain.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] This late, the park is all but empty. The last of the symphonies and plays have dispersed. The merchant stands are closed. The museums are locked down and darkened for the night, a security guard or two perhaps still trolling the halls. Lawns are abandoned and wide-open, wet with dew. Trees rustle in the breeze, unseasonably cool still. A late summer, this year.

From the treeline: a muffled shout. Then the sound of struggling. Then a snap. Then a sudden silence.

[Simon] His eyes seem to glow when he catches the sound out of the corner of his... ear? Fire ignited almost instantaneously as the creature crossing the park finds its curiosity piqued. He stops in his tracks and his lips curl slowly into a smile. He lightly taps the piercing in his lip against one of his incisors as he begins in the direction of the sound.

Each footfall was surprisingly quiet with the lack of shoes. Feet settled gently into the grass as he followed them one after the other into the tree line. It wasn't as if he was trying to be especially stealthy but he wasn't trying to make much noise either. Curiosity was a powerful force especially for this young full moon in search of a chance to make a name for himself.

So into the darkness he went, eyes and ears focused ahead. Fluid, cautious moments as the predator set off in search of his query.

[Danicka Musil] It's late evening on a Wednesday night. She has class in the morning. The moon is waxing.

So obviously, Danicka is walking alone through Grant Park, headed South. Her heels are silver and bronze, strappy. Her dress is a swirling, peach-colored number that reminds her of a construction site about fifteen minutes or more from this park, and reminds her of summer. And pierogies. The fact that she is utterly and unabashedly shithoused also reminds her of summer. And pierogies.

It takes a certain kind of woman to walk through Grant Park this late, alone, wearing clothes she couldn't possibly -- one imagines -- run for her life in with any ease. It takes an especially distinct sort of woman to do this drunk. Drunk enough to be humming as she walks, a shawl hanging off her elbows and draping across her lower back, yet not swaying as she strides down the path. It's mostly the faint smell of ethanol around her that hints at her state.

From the treeline, a muffled shout, a struggle, and a snap. Danicka sees Simon and Karl and pauses, not seeming to recognize either, and then looks at the trees. She looks thoughtful for a moment, lower lip out, then reaches into her bag for her phone and starts walking again as she takes it out, tapping a couple of icons on the screen before putting it to her ear.

[Danicka Musil] Somewhere in Grant Park, Lukas's iPhone chimes. Or vibrates. Or does whatever it does, when Danicka calls him, lighting up with big friendly letters to tell him that his mate has 'dialed' his number.
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Karl Gyllenhammar] The park is empty, near enough. Where most who still remain move in the lights, staying away from shadows, and not quite looking around (What if they see something!) others move with intent and purpose, through light or dark, with no fear of what lies around them. It is something you spot easily enough if you are looking.

Some would call them Dangerous. Others call them beasts. Man or Garou does not matter in the end. It is the intent which sets the pace each keep.

The sound of struggle, abruptly put to an end draws the Rotagars attention. A shift of direction, and he is heading towards the sound. Hands pulled from his pockets, he narrows his eyes, searching the shadows.

Others are reacting the same, and both Simon and Danicka are given a once-over.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The source of the disturbance isn't far from the main paths of the Park. Idyllic by day, this part of town seems home to a surprising number of incidents by night. Wyrmbreaker could tell stories of spiders, fomori, Dancers, thugs --

except his mouth is full right now. Because that's what's in the trampled clearing a stone's throw from the path: a hispo-wolf, his thick fur jet black, the telltale signs of Thunder in every last strand. His jaws are clamped down on the throat of some humanoid thing, some limp dead thing utterly dwarfed by its killer, and as Simon steps into sight his head comes smoothly up and around.

Ice blue eyes pin the other. Savage, the beast's black lips peel back to show teeth: a primitive, instinctive warning from one predator to another. My prey.

Then -- the most unlikely of events. Somewhere toward the beast's hindquarters, in the vicinity of his haunches, something buzzes. A iPhone ring tone starts chiming, muffled but clearly distinguishable in the quiet night, absurd amidst blood and carnage.

There's a tense silence. Then all at once the direwolf drops his kill, snapshifts from that shape to another entirely. Homidshaped now, blackhaired, sharply dressed, Lukas stands and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. He swipes the back of his wrist across his bloody mouth and, eyes on Simon, accepts the call.

"Ahoj, lásko."

Like this is nothing out of the ordinary. Like he's not standing in the middle of an urban park with a dead thing at his feet, a strange wolf not far away. When Karl slips from the shadows as well, Lukas shifts his stance subtly to face both of them.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [if i remember right, simon also speaks czech, and would understand that lukas just said "Hi, baby." on his phone *LOL*]
to Danicka Musil, Simon

[Simon] (Yes Simon understands. It's a second Language for him but he does speak it)
to Danicka Musil, Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Simon] He makes his way through the treeline, brushing branches aside and slipping his way into the darkness beyond. The moon is only partially out tonight, silver glow dulled by the clouds occasionally passing it by, but eyes adjusted soon enough.

His heart drops the second he comes into the clearing and catches sight of the wolf. Not that Lukas wasn't an impressive beast, he was a very pretty little thing after all, it was the fact that he wouldn't be having any fun this evening.

A shift... If he had doubted that this was one of his kind that doubt soon disappeared when Lukas shifted forms to take something already familiar to him. Then he spoke, and that too had a familiar ring to it. His smile would slowly return, after all he did love to meet new people even if his fun for the evening was spoiled.

Another in the park drew his attention. He scanned the area in search of Karl who had also been about to hear the noise.

[Danicka Musil] Attentive as she is to her surroundings -- usually -- Danicka is far enough from Simon, the clearing, and the direwolf that just turned into a man that she doesn't hear an iPhone chime somewhere down the path. She walks along, though, and when Lukas answers, perhaps they hear a voice down the way.

"Hi!" she says brightly, to begin with. "I'm... have you ever been to Russian Tea Time? The owner's name is Klara!" This has meaning to her. Or she thinks it has meaning to Lukas. She sounds positively enthralled by the fact. "Speaking of which, when I take you there for vodka, you say Na zdorovie! Like Na zdravi! Only in Russian. It's very easy. It's much easier than some phr--

"You haven't been practicing, by the way. Where are you?" she asks all of a sudden, sounding dismayed. She's barely taken a breath. "Oh. I called you. I called you becaaause... I'm in the park. You know the park," she adds, quite firmly, perhaps a bit disgruntled. "And I think I'm heading west but I really shouldn't be at the park if I'm heading west so I'm very confused right now and there's noises in the bushes so I thought I'd call youbutdon'tworry I have stuff if I need it, but if there's a monster in the bushes I don't know which way to run because I'm not sure which way I'm going and I'm pretty sure I'll fall down if I do and break my shoes."

A beat. She stops dead on the sidewalk, peering down at her toes. She wiggles them, and grins. "I have such pretty shoes, Lukášek. They're kinda sparkly."

[Karl Gyllenhammar] Three predators face each other in that small gathering of trees. In two of the three runs the blood of Storms, in the third the blood of Norse wolves. Karl stops, keeping an easy distance from Simon and Lukas both. Glancing down to the dead thing for a second, then up to the others.

The Iphone given a look as well, before his head turns to the sound of the woman talking, the woman he had seen moments before. Then his gaze goes back to Lukas and Simon.
“Hello.”

A ghost of a smile on his lips. His tone is light, even as the natural sound of his voice is quite low.
“I am Karl.”

Tone kept light for a reason. With not one, but two strange Garou in this little threesome, light is good. Especially with the amount of rage that weighs down the area.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Byl jsem to já vás slyšel."

Lukas's tone is level and steady. To Karl and Simon, it likely sounds conversational, casual. To Danicka, it sounds -- reserved. A moment later she knows why.

"Pojď do křoví. Existují dva další zde a mrtvý věc. Uvidíme se brzy."

He waits just long enough to hear a goodbye, if there is one, and then re-locks the phone and slips it into his back pocket. Stepping over the dead thing -- some sort of fomor, one expects -- he wipes his face again, this time with the palm of his hand. His stride doesn't break when he bends to scoop a handful of dirt from the ground, fleck and clods of which rain from his hands as he uses it to rub his palms ... well. Not so much clean as bloodless.

"Lukáš Wyrmbreaker," he replies to Karl, a scan of his eyes including Simon in the greeting. "Fostern and Alpha of the Unbroken, Alpha of the Shadow Lords, Alpha of the Ahrouns."

There's little pride in that, for what it's worth. It's stated as evenly as anything else. A beat later, a small, wry curl at the corner of his mouth for Simon.

"Sorry about the rude greeting. Wasn't expecting company." He nods over their shoulders, then. "Speaking of which, my mate will be joining us momentarily."

[Simon] Simon found himself frowning inwardly, after all this wasn't the kinda three way he would have hoped to get himself involved in tonight. Especially after that workout, blood still pounding. So young and full of excitement, he needed something to wear himself out from his workout! Oh god I hope this isn't that kinda three way!

Karl was one of their names and the other spoke Czech. He looked at Karl, then back to Lukas, then back to Karl. What a strange way to meet someone. He found himself looking around for the camera with suspicion in those eyes. This was almost surreal, meetings like this don't just happen do they?

For the moment he eyed Karl curiously before stepping a little closer. The man appeared to be Garou, his blood was strong, and he certainly wasn't wanting for testosterone. Alright I'll bite..."Simon..."He says back to Karl.

Lukas continues to speak on his phone before rejoining the pair and garnering a bright smile from Simon who bows his head respectfully."You are a hard man to get a hold of Lukas Rhya, I've been hoping to get myself introduced and acquainted for a while now."He was being friendly, for the most part the Ahroun usually was. It was perhaps his strangest quality.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [btw, if you wanna know what lukas is saying -- translate.google.com! czech --> english.]

[Simon] (Already got it)
to Danicka Musil, Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Karl Gyllenhammar] The Rotagar nods, offering both men that shadow of a smile.
“I am known as Holds-the-Line. Cliath No moon of the Fenrir.”

Voice kept low, edging it in after Simon addressed Lukas.
“It is good to meet you, Simon-yuf, Wyrmbreaker-rhya.”

Well, as good as it gets, running into two full-moons of the shadow lords tribe after dark in the park like this. However, it does not seem to disturb the youngish Rotagar very much. There is a confidence in him, mixing well with his lineage and those cold, pale eyes. Strong shoulders roll slowly, keeping muscles warm and flexible.
“I was meaning to seek you out as well Wyrmbreaker-rhya.”

[Danicka Musil] From down the path, all three men -- each one with inutterably high rage, filled with bloodboiling fury and one of them wearing evidence of it across his face, standing over evidence of it on the grass -- hear delighted peals of laughter from down the path, outside their little clearing. "There is a monster in the bushes!" she says, terrifically amused, and tries to remember which way she was walking when she called Lukas, and if she turned around.

She didn't. So now she does, and focuses on the path, and says: "Okay. I'll see you soon." Which is enough to get him to hang up and put his phone again. Hers gets dropped into her purse once more, and a few moments later they hear her heels on the concrete, then the more muffled sound of them on grass.

"Zkurvysyne," she's muttering as she approaches the general area where she heard the noise, having difficulty walking smoothly for the first time since she left the restaurant. "Poláků a jejich kurva bramborové šťávy."

Bushes, then, and her shawl getting caught on them. It is a rare, rare thing for her to seem this awkward, though Simon and Karl have no way of knowing that. Her hair is curled at the ends, gold where it lays on her shoulders, the color of her dress accenting its softness. Her shawl is a pale, silvery gray. There is a bracelet on her left wrist, two bangles and a slightly wider, flat bracelet interlocking. It is not gold, though gold would go most readily with peach.

They probably, to a man, don't understand how silvery, strappy shoes and a gray shawl make wearing that color metal with a peach dress okay, but truth be told, Danicka isn't worried about what they think of her accessorizing right now, she's trying to get her shawl's fringe untangled from a branch and she's batting at said branch without apparently noticing or caring that there are three people and a dead fomor just a few feet away.

Only one of them could assign any meaning to this behavior, or even note it as out of the ordinary.

"Pusť mě! Hloupá strom, budu nastavit si na oheň," she says warningly, yanking on her shawl.

[a rock] .. Mila was in the park for.. some unknown reason. Don't ask, she isn't gonna bother to say. However, she was there, stalking - or rather walking through the park. The weather had remained damp and cold. Thus, the dark haired woman with the oddly grey-blue eyes, was dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt, and a pair of jeans. She looked like nothing more than your average young woman on her way somewhere - needless to say, she was anything but average.

The woman in the strappy dress.. and slightly uneaven line she walked, caught her eye. But, she didn't know the woman, so it wasn't entirely of particular note. Well, that would be until she either a, fell over and giggled a lot.. or b, someone decided to take an interest in her.

Wait. What is she doing wandering off the path? God, that girl is gonna go fall in a pond or something! She sighed quietly and kept her distance.. but followed nonetheless.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] They've both been seeking him. Lukas makes a gesture, hands palm-up and out, as though to say here I am.

Because: there he is. Unmistakably Shadow Lord, every drop of his blood beating with the forbidding heroes of the Carpathians and the Caucasus. He holds his hand out to them, then, shaking palm-to-wrist, a warrior's grip.

"Help me move this out," he says, "and we can talk on the way."

Then: Danicka, stumbling into view, tugging her shawl back from the obstinate tree that had snagged it. The exception in this crowd -- the only woman, the only fairhaired one, the only kinfolk, the only ... well. Drunk one. There's no mistaking it now, though those who'd expect Lukas to bark at his mate for embarrassing herself, and by transference, him, would be disappointed. He simply holds his hand out to her, helping her across a muddy patch.

"Danička, this is Karl of the Fenrir and our tribesman Simon. Karl, Simon -- Danička, my mate."

[Karl Gyllenhammar] Karl takes Lukas arm in greeting, offering him a nod. Small, but respectful. Then he is leaning down to grab at the things legs to help lift it when Danicka is introduced. He straightens and wipes his hands on the side of his jeans, nodding to her.
“Danicka.”

He looks back to Lukas, leaning down again to help lift the thing with whoever takes it up, Simon or Lukas or both.
“Yes. I do not yet have a pack, but there is a war going on after all. Wont do to sit on my haunches and wait. Figured you might have something that needed doing, since the sept still lack a No moon elder to guide us.”

If they are perceptive, it is easy enough to know Karl’s native tongue is not English. For the Czech, his dialect is recognizable as Scandinavian easily enough.

[Simon] Simon's grip is firm in response to Lukas' greeting. He moved quickly and didn't question the corpse on the floor, instead he knelt beside it, and took the time to look around."We're gonna need some kinda vehicle or at the very least a dark path outta here. I don't have anything but a pocket knife on hand to break it down, but if we can get it somewhere quiet and dark I can certainly make it disappear for you."He says with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I just didn't bring that kinda gear with me to the gym."He laughs to himself at how amusing his gym trips would be if he in fact had done so.

Danicka's voice can be heard in the distance, and he finds himself tensing. Fuck he thinks to himself. He had been having such a delightful evening up until this point and here was the woman from the other evening coming to spoil it!

He keeps himself knelt down and looking over the corpse."First step we gotta get this thing outta here. Won't that be fun? Why do I suddenly feel like I've jumped into an episode of the three stooges?"He asks himself more than anything as he rummages through his bags for something that might be able to break up the profile of Lukas' kill.

[Danicka Musil] As though this is an everyday occurrence -- meeting in Grant Park after midnight, a bloody kill at his feet and dirt on his hands and her BAC through the roof -- Lukas merely assists Danicka with her obviously altered mobility. She yanks her shawl away from the offending foliage, stumbles a step or two away, and his hand is there, coming up under hers. Lukas is solid. Lukas is also filthy, palm included, but Danicka doesn't flinch away from the blood and mud on his hand. She just wraps her own around it, and steadies, and chuckles throatily to herself.

Finally, she bothers to look at the two men she was just -- in a way -- introduced to. Stares for a moment, eyes wide and green and furtive, then bursts into a gleaming grin. "Oh, hi!" she says, chipper as a squirrel in morning, and gives a little wave. "There was a woman behind me a little while ago," she says, to no one in particular, then looks down.

At the fomor, being lifted by the Garou.

Danicka blinks once, slowly. She lifts her head gradually and peers at Lukas, at the bloodstains lingering on his jaw and lips and throat. Her eyebrows quirk a bit, and she blinks again. "I have," she says very slowly, "a wet wipe. If you would like one. You've got..." she waggles a finger at his face, "goo. In your teeth."

[Mila] The noted woman appeared a moment later. Apparently, her curiosity, and perhaps actual reguard for the drunk one's safety, had lured her close enough to finally catch site of the grouping; half of which she recognized.

Arms crossed at her chest as her gaze drifted down towards the body the three men were partially/planning to lift. She spoke loud enough that she'd be heard, and wouldn't be thought of as sneaking up on them..

"Wyrmbreaker-rhya. Simon." The other man got a look, and a slight nod in greeting.

[Simon] He hears Danicka mention someone else following her and he turns around to look in the direction she came. Soon enough Mila enters into View, and it doesn't take much longer than a second or two to recognize her."Mila..."He trails off before looking back at the corpse."You got any plastic bags or anything like that on ya?"He asks her curiously before taking up a position to help Karl hold the corpse up. If they were gonna walk it out then that is what they would do. It wasn't the best way to get it out but it was better than leaving it!

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Simon says he only has a pocket knife. This gets a quirk of the brow from Lukas, who then squeezes Danicka's hand once.

"I'd appreciate it in a minute. Ale možná budete chtít podívat jinam."

When she does, Wyrmbreaker shapeshifts. Clothing recedes. Fur erupts. Arms become disproportionately long, roped in muscle; the face turns into a beast's visage. Crinos now, he takes the fomor from the Cliaths and goes about tearing it from limb in a few bone-cracking, joint-popping wrenches.

When he returns to homid, it's just meat at his feet. Wryly, "A little easier than a pocket-knife, I think.

"And," he adds, answering Karl now, "your offer's well-timed and welcome. My pack recently lost our No-Moon. Banshee had to return to her father's Sept. I'll be glad for you to run with us for a while, learn how we operate. If things work out, we'll bind you under Perun. If not, I'll be glad to point you on to other worthwhile packs in the Sept."

[Simon] Simon smirks to himself as Lukas begins to take the thing apart. He smirks to himself and pulls his dirty clothing out of his bag."I was hoping to avoid the whole blood dripping everywhere thing but... Sure, this works alright."He says as he begins to glide bits and pieces of the thing into his bag. Stuffing them as tightly as he can get them."Make sure none of the bits get lost in the bushes or anything. Last thing we need is the police finding a stray eyeball or pancreas."He laughs to himself, even as he shoved the remains of the fomor that he could fit into his bag. He didn't seem to be bothered by the dirty work one bit.

He seemed interested in getting what he could wrapped up for proper disposal. Bodies weren't as complicated as people thought to dispose of, you just have to be willing to get a little dirty.

[Karl Gyllenhammar] He watches Lukas tear the fomor apart with something of a smile on his lips. Looking to the lumps of meat that remains before looking to Mila. He offers her a nod. The way of her lines, of how her blood sings reveals her tribe easily enough, as he knows his own does. A Fenrir, with three lords. Anywhere else, one might expect blood-shed or at least a lot of posturing. All the reaction from Karl however, is a quite low key disposition.
“I appreciate the opportunity Wyrmbreaker-rhya.”

He works with Simon, grabbing the pieces that wont fit into the others bag, holding them casually. Just meat. No matter that moments ago it had been something else entirely.
“Your pack have residence in the Brotherhood if I am not mistaken?”

[Danicka Musil] The words in Czech have the sound of advice. To Simon's ears, they are something of a warning. And Danicka, hearing them, withdraws her hand from Lukas and pauses a moment, then does more than simply look away. She steps back, and then turns, and goes back the way she came. Out of the clearing, past the brambles and branches that tugged on her earlier, and she goes across the concrete path.

To a bench. Where she sits, and notices just now that she has a shawl. Oh, look at that. She tugs it up around her shoulders now, wraps it around herself, and tries to find another noise to hear

other than what is going on where the Garou are. The tearing, the cracking. All of it.

[Mila] A brow arched in Simon's direction. The look was clear enough.Do you think I have baggies? Sometimes men asked the stupidest questions.

The drunk woman was safely returned to the care of family. The thing was disposed of, and the Get (another GET?!) and Simon were working on removing the evidence. Well, it seemed as if it was all nicely taken care of and perhaps she should simply head home.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I live there," Lukas affirms, nodding a hello to Mila as she appears, "and Theron, one of our Theurges. Katherine, our Philodox, owns a loft in Lake View. There are spare rooms there for packmates and guests if you prefer a little more luxury. Our Galliard Sinclair spends some of her time there and some at the BroHo. Sometimes she's off on her own too. And both Asha and Caleb -- Ahroun and Theurge -- have their own swanky private residences.

"Fangs," he adds, as though this explained it. "I think any one of us would board you. But if you'd rather just stay at the BroHo, I think Theron's got a spare bed in his room now."

He nods at Mila again. "Have you met? That's Mila Stormbreaker, my tribeswoman, a Galliard Cliath. Mila, this is Karl Holds-the-Line and Simon, our tribesman."

As he's speaking, he's taken his coat off, laid it on the wet ground, and begun to heap lumps and chunks of flesh on. That's it for that article of clothing. No amount of drycleaning would fix the damage.

[Karl Gyllenhammar] There is something akin to amusement that passes the rotagars features.
“I have met Theron… But as much as I appreciate the offer of bording, I think my current residence will do. My mate will not be pleased if I move out. And Theron would probably appreciate not having his routines disturbed by me.”

But there is a light in Karl’s eyes. Imagining Therons reaction to coming home to find Karl on one side of the double bed after their last conversation and meeting. It would certainly make for a very interesting second meeting, that is for sure.

His gaze goes to Mila then, and he nods.
“We met, briefly, together with a now fallen. Stormbreaker-yuf.”

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "You live with your mate?" He sounds mildly surprised; he sounds wistful. "You're lucky. Bring her by the BroHo someday, or the Loft. We'd like to meet her."

He finishes, tying the sleeves of his coat securely together, converting it into a makeshift knapsack. "We'll probably need another one of these," he adds, "if any of you want to donate a coat. I'll go get my car. Simon," he nods toward the path, "you said you'd been looking for me. Walk with me."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [warning! bed in 40 min for me!]

[Karl Gyllenhammar] ((I am leaving for school in 20, so works for me!))

[Simon] He laughs to himself."Smells like the boy was eating Italian food... Jesus that stuff might smell good going in but after that..."He trails off and stands with a backpack full of gore. Sadly his workout clothes were gonna be stained now, but they weren't that large an expense to replace.

He allowed Lukas to take his share of the corpse as well. Helping to pile on heaps of fresh warm, foul smelling corpse. It might be a fresh kill but the human body was a disgusting smelling thing once you got down inside. The mixing and churning of fluids ranging from bile to blood made for all kinds of disgusting sights and smells.

When it appears everyone is ready he stands and begins to unwrap his hands. The bandages were ruined and would need to be disposed of.

He then nods to Lukas when he is addressed."Of course Wyrmbreaker-Rhya..."He trails off, the heavy bag slung over his shoulders was easy enough to carry, despite the fact he must have stuffed fifty pounds or more of gore into that thing. Blood was soaking into the material and occasionally dripping out of the bag.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [damn swedish time. *LOL*]

[Mila] "We have met." She smiled lightly. "Nice to see you again - under less odd circumstances this time. If you'll excuse me again, I do have somewhere to be. We will have to sit down and actually have a meeting one day.."

Lukas, got a wave and a nod. She watched Simon follow after him and silently prayed he didn't make a fool out of all of them..

[Danicka Musil] The Garou come tromping out of the clearing, some of them toting body parts. Danicka is seated on the bench, still, her shawl around her arms and her purse beside her, ankles crossed. She's looking up at the stars, and letting her mind wander. Or so it seems. When she notices the Garou coming into view, she lowers her chin and looks at the one she knows the best, and the one she belongs to. According to their laws, she is territory.

She knows now that Simon is of her tribe, a fact that slipped mention when she met him. Then again, the fact that she met him before slipped mention, too. She looks at the dark-haired, blue-eyed one with blood on his face, though, as he makes his way over to her.

When he's near enough, she has something in her hand to give him. It crinkles in its wrapper, the unscented Wet One. And god only knows why she has a travel-size bottle of mouthwash in her purse to go along with it, but she hands that over, too. And murmurs something, if he'll just lean over a little and bend his ear to her.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] By daylight, there's no way to mistake their burdens for anything but what they were. Parcels of gore. Pounds of flesh. The last visceral remains of some foul life, some fetid fomor who wasn't born this way, who was twisted into what died on Wyrmbreaker's teeth by choice or circumstance.

By night, though, any casual observer would see only two men carrying heavy packs. Suspicious, perhaps, but not damning. No one would look more closely. They were menacing enough without the rage; with it, something closer to terrifying.

Lukas doesn't head directly for the parking lot, however. He heads for the bench where his (drunk) mate sits, speaking as he goes. "So was there a reason for you to seek me out, or did you just want to introduce yourself?"

Danicka rises to meet him, and he takes the wetwipe after a curious glance; a faint and crooked smile. One hand gripping his disgusting burden, he rips the packet open with his teeth, then uses it to clean himself the best he can. It's a little like trying to dam the Nile with a brick.

And he does, indeed, bend to hear what she says as he takes mouthwash from her.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [oops. danicka didn't stand!]

[Karl Gyllenhammar] Karl, holding on to the last, large pieces of the creature follows Simon to somewhere Lukas can bring his car around, away from the street lamps. They make quite a procession. With any luck, it would rain later, washing away the traces of blood they cannot stop now.

“I think you have met her. Moira of the Fenrir.”
A glance to Danicka as they pass her, then they move on. Karl following long enough to dump the body parts before giving his good-byes. The night is young still, and the Rotagar has a date with a shower and some fresh clothes.

((And I am out! School time. Catch you all later! Thanks for the scene!))

[Danicka Musil] She can smell the thing he killed. He can smell... well. Vodka, and her shampoo, and her soap, and the scents that attached themselves to her at the restaurant and through the park. For Lukas, the smells are layered and evocative. He can smell her, underneath it all.

Danicka, however, smells only viscera. She says what she has to say quietly, perhaps a little plaintively, reaching out to touch his hand while she transfers wet wipe and mouthwash.

"...which way is west?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The used wetwipe is tossed into his bundle with the rest of his things. The thing. Whatever. The mouthwash is taken, then, and the Ahroun tips his head back to take a heavy swig, like a Fenrir at an alehouse. He swishes, he rinses, he spits to the side -- pauses, as she touches his hand.

There's a frown on his brow, faint as the smile had been. "That way. Why?" And he rinses again, emptying the little bottle of mouthwash.

[Danicka Musil] "Because I live that way," Danicka says patiently, and smiles. She holds out her hand for the bottle. It's recyclable, after all.

[Simon] He keeps along side Lukas."You are the ranking member of my tribe in this city, as well as something of the war leader. I am a full moon, but I am not a fool. This city is in the midst of a war, and I would like to do my part."He says with a shrug of his shoulders."I am Simon Zahradnik, known to the nation as Bone-Grinder. Cliath and full moon, of Thunder's Brood."He says with a proud smile giving himself an introduction.

"I have been drawn towards Dark Sky, and would like to do my part in the war effort. However, I am far from stupid. I realize I am young and new both to this war, as well as this city. I am here to fight but I am also here to learn however that might be. I wanted you to know that I stand ready not only to fight but also to learn whatever you might feel need be taught."He says with a nod."Experience is something to be noted. One does not live to your age and status without learning a few tricks after all."

"It was for that reason I wished to meet you in person Rhya."He says, glancing at Dankia and smiling a little. She was a bit more entertaining today for some reason.

[Mila] Mila.. just doesn't follow. She must have gone back the way she came.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas frowns at Danicka for another moment. Then, quietly, "I'll drive you." And he hands the bottle back. "Come on."

He starts walking again, and Simon speaks, and he listens -- head down, watching his footing, thoughtful now. Once or twice, he glances at Simon, something intense in his eyes: when the younger Ahroun says do my part in the war effort; when he says also to learn.

"It's a rarer thing than I'd like to find someone who thinks like that, Bonegrinder. I'm glad to have made your acquaintance. As for teaching -- there's no better schoolroom than a battlefield. When my pack goes to war, you'll always be welcome to follow.

"In the meantime, the first thing you should do is ally yourself with a pack. You've already shortlisted Dark Sky, which is good. They'll suit you well. Spend time with Mila and Nikolai, on and off the battlefield. Nikolai's also an Ahroun, so you'll probably have much to teach and learn from each other.

"There's also a war herald spirit bound near the Wyrmpole in the Caern. You should consult with it frequently to stay abreast of latest developments, and keep it informed of whatever you uncover or accomplish.

"As for tribal matters, it's pretty simple. Keep me in the loop. Kin guardianship defaults to me. If anything serious comes up with them -- mateship, punishment, the like -- bring it to me. And until you formally join a pack, you're also my responsibility, and I'm your de facto Alpha. If you stir up trouble, come to me. If others trouble you, come to me."

Lukas lays this all out evenly, his voice low and smooth. Simon's an Ahroun with a sense of humor -- albeit a dark one -- which is a rare thing. Lukas is an Ahroun with self-control, which is arguably just as rare. They're nearing the parking lot now, and Lukas shifts his makeshift knapsack on his back.

"Clear on all that?"

[Simon] He nods his head while walking alongside the Ahroun. He was eager to get whatever he could in preparation for when he did find himself on the battlefield, which likely would be any day now.

"I understand, and look forward to fighting beside the members of this sept."He says as they approach the car.

[Danicka Musil] She smiles. It's gentle. Takes the bottle, and squeezes his hand. "No," she says softly, shaking her head a little. "I'll throw up."

This is, oddly enough, stunningly pragmatic: the smell of gore, the amount of alcohol in her system, the stop and go of the car, the oppressive heat all around her of rage. She's not kidding, and she's not being dramatic. The most likely outcome of Danicka putting herself in Lukas's car and letting him drive her home right now is that she will get horribly, rapidly sick in the ten minutes or so it would take to get from here to her apartment.

Which she thinks is west. Which tells Lukas, more than anyone else, just how drunk she really is. What it would take to get her to that point. Why her eyes are that glassy.

She smiles, though, because despite all that, she seems sort of happy. "Hi," she whispers, out of nowhere, and then: "I'll call a cab." A promise, that, or a reassurance. She lets him go, and as he's giving Simon the Speech, she takes out her iPhone and calls her favored company. She has one. No matter what she told him, over a year ago, wearing last night's dress.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] So Lukas and his mate part at the bench, and he has only enough time to look at her in acknowledgment as she reassures him.

Then he's walking off with his grisly burden, he and his tribesman; they're conversing in low, steady voices that fade with distance. At the car he stops, popping the trunk and lowering his knapsack in, motioning Simon to put his backpack in as well.

"And I look forward to your strength added to ours," he replies, and shuts the trunklid. "Thanks for your help. I can handle the disposal myself. Where can I find you to return your backpack?"

[Simon] He smiles back to the man."I can be found at Mila's place. I will be crashing there till I find somewhere for myself."He nods his head and tosses his bag in the trunk.

"Nice to meet you Rhya... I am sure I will see you around again soon enough. For now I got some energy to work off so I'm gonna run home."He says brightly. Oh how excited and eager he was, the joys of youth!

"See ya' round!"He says before turning to make his way back through the park. The conversation was over for the moment. Lukas would handle the disposal and Danicka would be safe or so she claimed. So he could relax and go back to whatever he was doing before this mess arose.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I'll find you there," Lukas confirms. "Have a good night, Simon."

The other jogs off -- boundless energy, the savage good cheer of one who's never lost a fight. Lukas watches him go for a moment, then turns to get into the BMW. A little after that, the engine turns over, the car backs out of the space, and he drives away.

Later tonight, after the remains are safely disposed of, he'll return to the Brotherhood and take a shower. He'll scrub until he's clean, until the last traces of blood and dirt and taint are gone, and then he'll scrub some more. He'll shave. He'll dress again. He'll leave without sleeping, though,

because he'll sleep somewhere else tonight.

[Danicka Musil] They can't be very close, this particular Ahroun and his mate. He seemed surprised to hear that Karl lives with his mate, after all. There's genuine affection in how he spoke to her, how she was with him before he warned her about what was soon to happen -- dismemberment of a corpse -- and how they are at the park bench, when she tries to figure out where she is and where she's going and reassures him that she'll get herself somewhere safe soon enough. Yet: he leaves without a backward glance after that, talking to the other Ahroun of Thunder while the blonde woman who reamed Simon out the other night gives a dispatcher her current location and stumbles over her address.

They leave her alone, drunk, in Grant Park, where fomori sometimes walk, where she was once chased by Spirals. And this seems to be okay. Perhaps their mateship is something of a convenience: this attractive couple, their combined breeding. Perhaps they're just waiting for her to get pregnant, which could certainly take some time if he does not live with her and if they don't quite need or greatly desire to spend all their time together. All their nights.

There's no explanation of what that relationship is like, or any talk of her interaction with Simon. And so she puts away her phone and watches the stars, instead of their backs as they head to the parking lot. Soon enough she's alone, and breathing deep

until the stench of dead flesh and spilled blood leaves her nostrils and her awareness.

[Danicka Musil] Later on he'll find her at her apartment. Her shoes by the door, her shawl on the floor by her purse, the front door locked by muscle memory and habit. He'll find a trail of clothes left haphazardly rather than seductively on the way to her bed, the silk of her dress on the floor and her underclothes draped off the edge of her bed.

He'll find her asleep under the comforter, washed since the last time he was there, since the last time he made love to her there, groaning into her ear as she whimpered underneath him. He'll find her naked and asleep, her face washed -- perhaps surprising, that little care she takes even this blitzed -- and her hair still curled slightly, silver still around her wrist.

She won't wake when he comes into her room, or into her bed, this hypervigilant woman who has never been so drunk in his memory that she could not remember where the fuck she was or how to get home. That will scare her, when she wakes and finds him there, that she did not stir even a little when he came in.

So while he still sleeps she'll come to his chest, curl against it, and blow off her first class of the day. To be with her mate, even for a little longer.
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [thanks for the play!]