[Gabriella Bellamonte] Most girls Gabbie's age looked forward to their Friday evenings because of the night activities that lay ahead. Friday nights, for girls in their late teens and early twenties, promised to be full of partying-- dancing and loud music, alchohol (even if they were legally too young to be drinking) and inhibitions lost. They were loud, dark, and warm, full of flashing lights and letting loose. Gabriella, however, had been looking forward to her Friday afternoon/evening not just because it meant that there were no classes tomorrow, not because she had a club to go to or a stranger to dance with, but because she was going to meet a monster at a public library.
They'd been set up like this for a little while now-- leaned back against a wall, sitting on the floor with their legs stretched straight out, and large books filled with images of old artwork from men, primarily long gone from this plane, layed out between them-- one book cover on either thigh. They flipped through pages, and quietly mused and critiqued.
...And to think her siblings were concerned that the Fianna would be danger to her.
Clothes to shield her from the severe cold outside were shed and set neatly beside her, her coat folded over a few times with scarf, hat, and gloves folded into it, leaving her in a soft and form-hugging sweater with a neck that scooped enough to show off collarbone and smooth chest, but not enough to be unmodest, baby blue to match her eyes, and a pair of creame colored slacks, again with the brown closed-toe heels. Again, she hadn't changed clothes between school and here. Her ankles were crossed, the leg further away from him folded just slightly so her knee pointed out, and her thumb idly rubbed at the sides of the pages accumulated on her side of the book cover.
He murmered his approval of a picture of a woman combing her hair, still nude but sheltered (save for one hardly noticable nipple) by the angle of the portrait, and she contributed her opinion in the same quiet tone he used. "He does well making her the focus-- the background isn't too defined." Aside from the fact that they were sitting on the floor, they were perfectly polite entities in the library-- not loud, not giggling or flirting or doing anything to disrupt the peace... aside from Hatchet's Rage, of course, but that just couldn't be helped.
[Hatchet] The Half-Moon, the danger, the big bad wolf who is going to taint her honor or her family name...well, he's quite warm. He has a coat and a pair of gloves but no scarf, no hat, nothing else to keep him going in the weather that freezes even his breath in his lungs. They've been in here for some time, though, and the library is kept warmer than outside but not sweltering. They have computers to think about, the growth of mold to worry about, but it's better than the single-digit temperatures outside by far. And without the wind or the chill of the winter air, Hatchet's own warmth is almost something preternatural.
The librarians and the other readers are leaving them alone. There's people on computers and there's students doing research. There's families coming over from the daycare across the street to pick out videos and books for the weekend, but not a whole lot of people walking around the area where Hatchet and Gabbie sit. That's one thing he's good for: most mortals pick up on his Approach With Caution vibe from several yards away and choose not to approach at all.
Especially right now. The moon is still full enough to be considered a Galliard's, but it's getting closer and closer to the harshness of Hatchet's own. Gabbie weathers it graciously, but there's something implacable about him even now. He considers her statement, his right bicep pressed companionably against her left shoulder, and then shakes his head, sliding his fingertip away. "She looks like she's alone. Not like...someone's watching her. So she's not thinking about how she arches her back or her belly or anything. I like that. She's not like the ballerinas."
[Gabriella Bellamonte] That was something to be said about Gabriella. Though a tolerance to Rage seemed quite common among Kinfolk in this city, that didn't hold true everywhere. Hatchet, for some reason or another, felt quite like a Full Moon should when it came to how intense the Rage that rolled off him was. That combined with how close it was to his moon should make him difficult to be near, should make any Kin jittery at the best. Yet she seemed quiet at ease setting close enough to touch the Garou, to murmer over art with him and just, in general, be relaxed. Either she was hardened to it in her youth-- she could recall bouncing on her Ahroun father's knee at a fairly young age-- or she was very good at faking calm.
He pointed out her posture, and Gabbie nodded to agree, lifting a hand to brush some of her hair, left down and loose today, behind her ear before brushing her finger down the edge of the woman's neck and back on the page. "She's almost leaning forward, along with how her head's tipped. And how her legs are positioned? It's hardly graceful. Very comfortable, on the contrary."
Go figure, they'd be looking at pictures and discussing art. Not what one would think a Fianna would have in mind when inviting a young Silver Fang kinfolk out for a companionable evening. This just made Gabbie wonder more and more why she even took peoples commands/suggestions/threats for her to keep away from him seriously for even a second. It was just silly. The closest thing to a threat she felt from him was the very same thing she felt from every other Garou in her life, something that they couldn't help and didn't intend. The Bellamonte Grudge against him seemed almost laughable in its justification now.
[Hatchet] He told her at the restaurant why Edward hates him, and Katherine's dislike of him hardly needs more reason than his lack of lineage combined with Edward's loathing. Hatchet didn't tell her what Edward said, or why he has whatever opinion he has of her siblings. Not in detail, not in all seriousness. And tonight they haven't talked about Edward and Katherine at all, even in jest. They've talked about Van Gogh and Matisse but not her brother and sister. They haven't talked about Gabbie and Hatchet, either.
Not much to say, one could imagine. And that might be a saving grace, where they talking to Lukas or to any other members of the Unbroken Circle: if there is nothing much to say between Gabbie and Hatchet about Gabbie and Hatchet (Gabriella and Taggart, Young Miss Bellamonte and Buried Hatchet, whatever), then nothing has happened or will happen to put a blot on the younger one's name and household.
He is most definitely a threat to her. Maybe not her honor, maybe not her life, but Hatchet could hurt her without even trying in more ways than one. Those large hands could bruise, those white teeth can be sharp, and that wit hints at a disconnection or detachment from other people that borders on pathological. Yet he's warm, physically and the way he smiles. He turns his head to look at her when she speaks and nods in pleased agreement. "Exactly. Her legs," he says, as though this is something he noticed to but didn't get a chance to say yet.
And then he's just looking at her, a smile gentle at the corners of his mouth even though his eyes are guarded and steely. It only lasts a moment, like in his mind he's putting a mask on her face or taking one away, and then he looks back to the book and turns the page.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] The page turned, and the next image that the pair found themselves observing was one of a man and a woman, seated together on a long bench in front of a table, as though they were a couple, except the man was looking away, out of the frame, and the woman's eyes were forward, slanted downward just slightly, and her expression was a bit on the sad side. Gabriella had still been observing the bathing woman's legs when Hatchet was looking at her, smiling with guarded eyes that wouldn't allow her to read what he was thinking, despite her skill in picking up emotions and motivations.
Now, on the new page, she furrowed her eyebrows just slightly at the image she was given to look over. One corner of her lower lip pulled into her mouth, between her teeth, a habit of heavy consideration while she was examining the portrait.
Then, after some time, she murmered a word. "Disassociated..." She spoke it like a girl that knew something about what it meant, truely.
[Katherine Bellamonte] (They're in one another's company. That's caught enough. :D )
to first aid kit, Gabriella Bellamonte, Hatchet, Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[Hatchet] "God, this is depressing," Hatchet says instantly, seeing the next painting. They've seen ballerinas intermittently, nude women, but there is something singular and lonely about the one they turn to now. He doesn't sound irritated, the way so many people do when faced with sadness or emptiness outside their own current experience. Unexplained malaise makes people quail, pull back, squirm, come up with a dozen explanations...none of which fit.
Hatchet just looks like something in the picture makes him ache. He gestures with his finger at the picture. "It looks like there should be someone there," he says of an empty space on the bench, frowning at it. If he even hears her mention the word, he doesn't ask about it. He doesn't cock an eyebrow at her. He looks at her, though, rather than continue staring at the page that he says is 'depressing'.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] She nodded at what he had to say-- that space of the picture did seem quite empty. The man and woman were pressed to the right side of the picture, while the bench that reached across the entire thing was empty on the left. The woman wasn't even quite centered, even she was on the right side of the center line. She chewed a little more on her lower lip, now on the inside of it rather than the top, with her canine teeth, then shook her head faintly and continued in that low voice that was quiet for the fact that she was musing now, thinking aloud, rather than because she was being polite to the rules of the library.
"She looks like she doesn't have a choice in being there. I'd want to say that her company was purchased, but the man that would have paid for her isn't paying her any attention at all. ...It's like an unhappy marriage, back before divorce was more socially accepted, you know?" For Gabbie, this picture almost scared her. It felt like a glimpse up one of several roads she could be taking in her future-- married to a stranger she doesn't get along with, keeping in his company and him keeping in hers because it's expected of them, because it's not acceptable for them to part and go their seperate ways.
She didn't quite like looking at that picture too long. Another few moments of quiet observation after that, and she reached to turn the page.
[Hatchet] To say that Hatchet has noticed a theme is an understatement; he's aware of Gabriella's state and he knows what the plans are for her and it would take a moron or a family member to not see how she feels about it all. He sees it clearly because he doesn't care if that feeling is there or not; he has met Kinfolk like Gabriella who are fine with their lot in life, who expect nothing more. He has met the defiant and the submissive both, and it makes very little difference to him which emotion is most prevalent among Kinswomen Gabbie's age or which tribes are harder on their Kin or whether there's a common thread in terms of appearance or personality, such as Fang girls are hotter or Gaian chicks are easy.
He doesn't care much one way or the other, and so he cannot be said to see what he wants to see. He doesn't particularly 'want' to see anything when he looks at Gabbie, other than Gabbie. Try telling her that, or anyone else. Hatchet doesn't bother.
He looks at her, and he doesn't comment on the painting the way he has on the others. Gabbie reaches to turn the page, he doesn't stop her, and he nudges her foot with his. "You okay?" he whispers, lower than the rest of his words have been.
[Katherine Bellamonte] It was not the first occasion that she had requested her pack-mate's assistance in tracking down her younger sibling. The benefit of having someone beside her who happened to be familiar with a certain Questing Stone Rite was limitless. Without it, it might have taken Meridian's Truth hours longer (or proven a fruitless endeavor altogether) to settle upon a fixed location for Gabriella Bellamonte.
Katherine had not forbidden her younger sister a social life, in fact, precisely the opposite she had encouraged the teenager to make new acquaintances among her peers at the DePaul School of Music -- she wanted her sister to excel as readily as their elder brother and mother did -- she simply wished for those new acquaintances to be human. And within her own age group. And most particularly -- not Oscar Taggart. Despite her words of warning at supper the previous evening, Katherine knew her sister's mind; her quick wit and capricious nature would never allow for her suppression of free will -- she had suspected (even feared) that no matter her verbal entreaties, Lukas' advice, even Edward's affable request --
Gabriella would do as she saw fit.
Would she be a Bellamonte if she did not?
In years gone past the punishment for breaking their word had been handled by their father and he had been as practical as a warrior trained could have been -- when Chrisopher Bellamonte met his end it had fallen, albeit briefly, to their mother to become to hand of strength. But Rosalie was too soft hearted, too deeply protective of her children to ever prevent their smiles so it had become their Uncle's task -- one he had seen to with severe, unbiased dedication. Lucien had never been a man for whom sentiment stood in the way of discipline.
Tonight -- her hands gripping the steering wheel of her Porsche, her brow dark and eyes almost black in the moonlight -- Katherine Bellamonte has found herself in a role she perhaps takes as little pleasure in as the man seated beside her.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] You okay?
It was a question that, startlingly, had more meanings and subtitles to it than one would initially think. Normally it would just be to check up on one thing-- pain. If someone hit their head, you asked if they were okay to check their physical pain level. If they were ducking their heads or showing more moisture to their eyes than typical, you asked if they were okay to check their emotional pain. However, Gabriella had heard that question plenty of times as a subtle, curious new way to tell her that she was showing her weakness again-- that she was sulking, letting too much be seen. It has been used as a way to tell her to just 'suck it up', so to speak. Honestly, she'd heard that just as much as she's heard the other form.
This time around, it was to check on a mental/emotional state. And she didn't get the somewhat clipped feeling that the question was more a reminder than concern or curiosity. Clear eyes flicked up from the new picture (another woman from the back-- drying her hair rather than combing it this time) up to Taggart's face, and she quirked one corner of her mouth upward in a smile that was more of a facial thumbs up than anything else.
"A little unnerving, like looking through the Looking Glass, but nothing new. I'm accustomed."
[Hatchet] If Gabbie were a wolf, Hatchet wouldn't have said it aloud. The foot-nudge and a moment of eye contact would have been enough. He asks it privately, though, because saying the words themselves seems an affront to decency to him. He's used to the body language and the Look, a nod or a head-shake in answer. He's not used to having to say it and then analyze whatever response he gets verbally. That doesn't mean he can't, or that it's difficult. It's just a bit uncomfortable. These things are personal, they're not for the hearing of others.
Her answer, however, is not a wistful Oh, yes, I'm okay meant to draw out more questions. It's not her eyes filling with tears or a snapped Of course not before she slaps the book shut on his fingers and stalks off. It's not a blank look. Her answer, frankly, doesn't make a whole lot of sense to him. "...What's a little unnerving?" asks, for clarity's sake.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Frankly, Lukas probably cares less any which way. The Ahroun sits in the passenger's seat, a little cramped in the tiny confines of Katherine's lowslung little porsche. Even with the seat all the way back, his knees are bent, his feet pressed against the far wall under the dash. He's hanging onto the ohshit bar with one hand. The other dangles a Questing Stone, courtesy of Mrena, from the index finger.
"Wait -- you passed it. Go back." His mouth tenses as the Silver Fang hauls into an illegal U-turn. "Jesu," he mutters, under his breath. "All right -- stop, park here."
And look at that: they're at the public library.
"Maybe she's studying," Lukas says.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] If Gabbie were a wolf, there would probably be about ten to twenty times fewer dramatics circling her. She would know her place, and she would accept it with more ease than she did now. She would be a part of a pack, with the chance to run and fight and contribute. She would have the same oppertunities to push to gain higher rank in the pack, she would be able to challenge her leaders, and graciously accept loss in the fact that she was able to try. As a human, she was tempted with the possibility of more, and tempted moreso by the fact that it wasn't what was expected of her. Sure, she could get in her car and drive where she pleased, so long as she left note and was home in time to continue school... So long as the people she was spending her time with were human.
But how do you make close friends with humans, knowing what Gabriella does? Her family was Garou, her siblings and father both. She grew up with stories of Gaia and the Umbra and the Wyrm floating in and out of her ears, and was hardly able to maintain concern for regular human things, like a career or a family or 'meeting the one', and therefore had little to really connect and converse about with them.
Hatchet said he didn't quite understand, and with a faint roll of one shoulder she expanded. "It just looks like something I may be doing someday-- watching the floor while my husband watches the wall. It's unnerving thinking about how empty things might end up being." She didn't speak in a low lull of self-pity. She wasn't asking for sympathy or for comfort. The tone of her voice was matter-of-fact, she was just explaining her thought process, or so it seemed.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine's Porsche survives the journey, which in all honesty is a miracle in itself the way the woman takes her corners and abuses her tires. They'll require replacing within months at the rate she's going -- things such as the maneuver she preforms now -- yanking on the steering wheel and pressing her foot down on the accelerator until the sleek silver vehicle squeals into a U-turn -- being one of the reasons why none of the pack feel particularly inclined to let her drive.
Or safe when she does.
Maybe she's studying, Lukas offers.
Katherine peels off her leather driving gloves and glances at her pack-mate; there is genuine hope in her eyes; a true case of wishful thinking. "Yes, perhaps I am misjudging her." She doesn't add that she wishes to trust her sibling, that Edward had disagreed with her coming tonight, called her too mistrusting, too ready to have doubt in those she claims to love.
I act because of my love, what excuse do you give your inaction, brother?, she'd retorted, slamming the door in her wake.
"Let's go." She pushes open her door.
[Hatchet] If Gabbie were a wolf, her pack could frown upon a friendship with a rakish Fiann but either they could hardly forbid it or she would face severe, brutal consequences for defying her Alpha. If Gabbie were a wolf then the very idea of her 'mating' with someone like Taggart would not only be a slap to both his honor and hers but an obscene thought with grotesque consequences. If Gabbie were a wolf --
-- well, the two of them together would probably be too much for the remaining patrons of the library. As it is they are left almost completely alone, and as it is the entrance of Katherine and Lukas is going to empty out the entire building in a matter of minutes. People on the second floor are going to sense something Wrong going on, are going to know their deaths are at hand like animals know an earthquake or violent storm is imminent. It will be too much for them, and though perhaps gradually, they will all begin to leave. Or hide.
For now, it's just Hatchet, and he's in control, and though he's been somewhat quiet tonight -- in terms other than his volume, because they are in a library -- he is not dark or brooding or violent. He's just Hatchet, and he's sitting with her calmly. Contentedly. Though, for the moment, with evident concern. And since she's looking at him, she sees a flicker of something in his eyes that may or may not mean anything. He doesn't verbalize it.
Instead, he says: "I know this may not be helpful...but even if your marriage is like that, your life doesn't have to be empty."
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] With a flick of his wrist, Lukas jerks the questing stone up on its string like a yoyo and palms it. His hand drops to the latch of his seatbelt, depressing the button with his gloved thumb. Then, a beat after the Silver Fang, Lukas emerges out of the porsche.
It's vaguely ridiculous to see the towering Ahroun unfold from such small confines, not to mention such a feminine little car, all round curves and bug eyes. He puts one hand behind his neck, wincing as he cracks his neck. Then, his breath a white plume in the night, he starts up the stairs to the library door, taking it over from Katherine after she pushes it open.
The warmth inside is nearly as startling as the cold outside. He doesn't bother to undo his coat and gloves; hopefully he won't be here long.
[Katherine Bellamonte] Inside the library all is silent and sombre but for the occasional flutter of turning pages somewhere and the quiet whurr of a heating unit. There was something quite universal about libraries -- no matter where in the world you travelled they were almost always quiet, peaceful places filled with people escaping their own lives for the chance to experience time as another person, place, time or concept. There was a lone attendant behind the main counter, equipped with an old PC and a stool, a stamp in one hand and what appeared to be a growing pile of book returns in the other.
At the entrance of Katherine and Lukas; the elderly librarian looks up from behind half-rimmed glasses, studying the pair with obvious mistrustful interest. It was late in the evening and not many entertained the idea of visiting a library -- especially on their weekend. Especially not when they looked and dressed the way these two did.
Katherine glances around once; her eyes keen. A first sweep does not locate her sister, and she gestures to Lukas to hang back as she approaches the counter and fixes her most alluring smile in place.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] Quiet slipped between the pair of them, a space left open after Gabriella's smooth voice fell away, and the picture in the book open on both their legs, which touched just as companionably as his bicep did her shoulder, was hardly noticed beyond a glance to acknowledge that it was quite similar to the one they were just observing-- another naked woman just gotten out of the bath, another comfortable angle of her back and the top of her butt, grooming her hair and being completely at ease in her oil-painting existance for all time.
Steely gray eyes met with clear blue ones, and stayed locked for several seconds.
It didn't seem like much time, but so much was said just by the look the Fianna had, the size of his pupils, the corners of the eyes themselves. His expression, his eyebrows, right down to the way his head had turned on his neck. She was able to read it all, like a human lie detector but better. She saw understanding, she saw an agreement on the dislike of the picture, the fact that it unnerved him quite as it had her. And that was just the surface of what she could see. There was so much more.
And that generated a strong want to lean forward and give the man a hug. Again she found herself biting the inside of her lower lip with the edge of her canine tooth, and again she found herself thinking better than what her first instinct told her to do. Rather than lean over and wrap her arms around his middle, rather than tuck her head into his chest and rub at his back, she simply lifted the hand that had been holding her side of the book and set it against his arm, where her thumb would lightly, and ever so slightly rub up and down against the fabric intended to keep his arms from falling off in the cold outside.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( I'm gonna have to go to bed here soon. But when that time comes, we should totally PAUSE and not flake out an ending to this. *Vigerous nodding* ))
to Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (hm, i suggest we just say it happens when we finish, rather than pausing and leaving our chars in limbo.)
to Gabriella Bellamonte, Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte
[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( Could just hang onto the scene and pretend it doesn't happen until we finish it? :P ))
to Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[the devil] (may I lurk?)
to Gabriella Bellamonte, Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( I don't mind! :) ))
to Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, the devil
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (yar, that's what i meant -- it doesn't happen until we finish it!)
to Gabriella Bellamonte, Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (though honestly i don't think lukas won't spend very long! let's pick up the pace *grin*)
to Gabriella Bellamonte, Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Katherine goes to speak to the librarian; Lukas, for his part, doesn't bother to linger. He starts to make a perimeter of the first floor, looking down every aisle, circling behind the study carrels to make sure Gabriella hadn't fallen asleep in one of them.
His footsteps click on the cool stone floor -- growing more distant, then closer again. By the time Katherine is finished with her conversation, he's back, his cheeks faintly flushed with the warmth of the library.
He tugs his scarf loose, letting the halves hang in uneven halves from his neck. When Katherine turns from the librarian, he nods up the stairs.
"She's not down here. Let's check the upstairs."
[Hatchet] ((Way to assume they're not on the first floor. *L*))
to Gabriella Bellamonte, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker
[Hatchet] She looks at him and he looks at her and you'd think that it doesn't have much more meaning beyond what regular eye contact brings two people. It's more than that, though. It lasts longer and it goes deeper. Gabriella sees more in that glance than most people get from a conversation with him, and in an instant, Hatchet sees that she has gotten it all. He realizes that she's dipped down into recesses he's barely even acknowledging, and instead of recoiling, he smiles a little as she lays her arm along his.
The look he's giving her at his side is tender, if a bit sad -- and little wonder, given the past two weeks or so. He lifts his own hand and lays it on top of her hand, on top of his arm, and then he tips his head forward and rests his brow on top of her head.
It's very warm, and perhaps it's because their faces are half-hidden by posture and their hair that when Lukas walks right past the aisles where they are standing, he misses them. They are indeed on the first floor, sitting on the ground with their backs against the wall and their feet towards one of the endcaps. So it's Gabbie's right leg and Hatchet's left leg, elbows to the side, that are visible when Lukas looks down those particular aisles.
He just barely missed them, too quick a glance or not inhaling for their scents deeply enough. So he misses Hatchet kissing the top of Gabbie's head and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, as he is walking back to Katherine and telling her a lie he wholly and utterly believes in.
"They're going to close soon," he reminds her. Quietly. Of course.
[Katherine Bellamonte] The elderly librarian with his blue and green checkered vest and his salt and pepper hair is suitably swayed by Katherine's soft-toned concern over her baby sister's whereabouts that he strains his memory to recall if he saw any young ladies fitting Gabriella's description coming or going. There was one lass, he grumbles, and points a gnarled finger in the general direction of the corner furthermost from them.
Offering her thanks with a parting smile, the Silver Fang moves away in time to join up with Lukas; cheeks flushed from time spent wandering the heated recesses of the library stacks. She's not down here, he nods towards the stairs and Katherine's eyebrows rise. "The librarian says he saw a girl fitting her description come in earlier and head towards the corner over there." She flicks her fingers in the general direction the attendant indicated.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas smirks.
"Maybe I didn't look carefully enough. Let's go see."
[Gabriella Bellamonte] It was almost uncanny, Gabbie's ability to read people. It gave her a deeper insight than what people expected from a teenager born into money, having her every need tended to, never left wanting. It was curious how she could look at someone's face, their eyes, their posture, and be able to distinguish whether they were acting from anger or sincerity, if they were jealous or caring, cautious or malicious... It made things easier in some cases, though, where words refused to be spoken out of a sense of honor, or the fact that the owner couldn't make the words move from their mind to their tongue in a proper, understandable order.
She was also able to read the fact that Hatchet understood how much she had seen, how much she know comprehended and knew. She was relieved that his response was not to close up or grow angry or defensive, but to smile and accept that his eyes had sold him out. She put her hand on his arm, and his hand laid atop hers, brushed over her knuckles, and he dipped his head to rest his brow and mouth at the crown of hers. Lukas had stalked by, and just as he had missed seeing them, they seemed to miss him. So she wasn't in much of a rush when he mentioned the library would be closing soon.
A glance was cast downward, to a charm bracelet-style watch on her wrist, and she nodded and, almost reluctantly, straightened up, pulling her head out from under the tuck of his chin and mouth. "They are. Should we check any of these out?" The internet would more than suffice for browsing artwork by favorite artists, but she doubted that Andrea's ample generosity expanded to the point of supplying computers and internet access to the patrons. It simply wasn't something Garou were often interested in, and if they were they usually found access to it themselves.
[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( Can we pause now? *The audience hisses and boos* It's past two in the morning, and I've got a brunch date tomorrow. ))
to Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, the devil
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (seriously, i need like -- one more post. then lukas is out of the scene, at least. if the rest of you wanna post, be my guest.)
to Gabriella Bellamonte, Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte
[Hatchet] ((I'll be around tomorrow! Pause it is.))
to Gabriella Bellamonte, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, the devil
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (hold on a minute here. i seriously need to make one more post. then i'm out of this scene. can you wait 10 minutes, maximum?)
to Gabriella Bellamonte, Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte, the devil
[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( I can stick around to read yer post, Damon. :) But then we end after yours? And possibly Jacqui's, if it's in the works. ))
to Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, the devil
[Hatchet] There's no explanation for the understanding Hatchet's eyes, no frame of reference for her to place everything she just learned in. How, why, when...he's only five years older than her. He's young. By human standards he's barely more than a kid. He'd be getting his first post-college job right now if he were a man and not a monster. Hatchet isn't, though, and in his world he is actually experienced. He ranks above at least one of her siblings and all the packmates she has met, even the ones he is technically younger than.
And she has no idea how he could understand what she's feeling or why the painting affected her the way it did. She has no idea how unnerving it is for him to have been seen as clearly as she just saw him. That part doesn't come out, though. He hides that all right, at least until she stirs and looks at the books.
He shakes his head. "Nah. Unless you're going to look at them at home. If I want I can come back here. Or...go to a museum free day or something." He shifts, looks at her -- though not deeply -- and then tips his head to the side, smiling. "You wanna give me a ride back to the Brotherhood?"
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] So: off they go again. They've a destination in mind this time; no aimless rounds of the library, casting glimpses down each long aisle.
It's late. Federal funding isn't great, in light of economy downturns and recessions. Many of the stacks are dark, the overhead lights kept off unless a patron manually switched them on. It's perhaps forgivable that Lukas, in his minute-and-a-half sweep of the library, had missed the pair.
Not this time, though. Gabriella and Hatchet can hear his footsteps approaching; Katherine's as well. Perhaps they can feel their pure breeding, the rage threading through the air, insidious. Or perhaps not. Doesn't matter -- the packmates can hear their voices now, both familiar. A second later they come around the corner, Lukas and Katherine, the bright and the dark. And the Ahroun, at least, stops cold. His eyes go to Gabriella first. Then to her companion. There's a silence. A faint, unreadable twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Then the expression resolves itself, and it's unmistakable: disappointment. But little surprise.
The Ahroun draws a short breath. "Well," he says, softly. "I see."
I'll be waiting in the entrance if you need me, Katherine. He makes eye contact with the Philodox, if she's in such a state. His hand grips briefly at her shoulder; then he goes the way he came.
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (*squeaks in under 10 min!*)
to Gabriella Bellamonte, Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte, the devil
[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( *Glee!* Okay! Bedtime! Thanks for playin (and lurkin)! Catch you lovely ladies tomorrow. ))
to Hatchet, Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, the devil
[Hatchet] ((Thanks for the RP!))
[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (yar! i'll look for the post in y'all's logs *LOL* thanks for letting me extricate lukas!)
[Katherine Bellamonte]
[Katherine Bellamonte] Once, when they had both been very young, Katherine no older than seven and Gabriella barely turned five they had been adventuring around one of their family's borrowed summer cottages that laid but three miles from the small village of Paradou, at the heart of the Les Alpilles region in France. There had been an old neglected well used to draw water from a spring long buried and Gabriella -- with the curiosity of a five-year-old had taken it upon herself to climb the ledge when her elder sister came upon her.
Non, Gabriella!, Katherine had shouted, dropping her glass of cider on cobbled stones and dashing toward her younger sister; wobbling her way barefoot around the rim of the well. I can do it myself! the indignant of a child had protested over the repeated shouts of her sister. By the time Katherine reached her sister's side, she had hopped to the ground once again and scowled fiercely at the frantic embrace of an over-protective big sister.
You spoil everything!, she'd yelled.
Papa told me to protect you, it was his particular wish, Katherine had replied, ever the pragmatist, even then.
They are no longer children and the woman who stops several steps behind her pack-mate is no longer human -- she was a monster and she had a monster's desire to attack and destroy as fiercely as she had once felt that desire to preserve and protect. It is perhaps a mercy then, that Lukas speaks before she can utter a word.
That he claps a hand on her shoulder, and feels the quivering of her body beneath it. There are no tears in her eyes, there is no sign of her outward disappointment as there was with the Shadow Lord at her side -- there is only the legacy of their father's eyes staring out at Gabriella, their mother's soft mouth tensed into a line and the eventual sound of Katherine's voice, quiet and regal.
"Good evening, my sister."
celebration.
9 years ago