ice cream and a movie.

[Imogen Slaughter] A theatre is letting out, with its well-dressed patrons and doormen holding the door, thanking all for their patronage.

People do not carry soda pop drinks or beverages, but they do carry pamphlets, glossy on expensive paper.

Her hands are empty as she leaves, her pamphlet in her purse, in a garbage or left at her seat. She is dressed in slacks, a blouse and a leather coat open over her body. Her hair is red, bright and vibrant, her skin pale, and her height slight. All these things set her apart from the crowd - more so as she deliberately moves away from them, cutting through the groups for the shortest path necessary, and starting across the street to less populated spaces.

[Thoth Massri] Walking into a new city was always the best way, moving from the outskirts, to the lightly populated areas, down into the heart of the city. You could learn its stories, its moods, and of course more importantly, its dangers all in one day.

Thoth strode along the street, and watched as the crowd began to spill from the theatre like water from an opened dam. He stopped and watched, waited a few feet from the crowds growing mass as a tiny smile formed around the edge of his mouth.

The traveler stood straight as a tree, his countenance dignified and proud, his skin the color of dark mahogany and his eyes a dark brown that almost blended in with his face, if it weren't for the thin whites surrounding those pits. His head almost gleamed in the glow of the street lights, his head bare, and shaven smooth. He dressed simply, almost beggarly, his boots were old and worn, and of a make unknown in the states, rugged durable things, they give the impression of boots that have lasted long past their prime. the rest of his body is covered in a dark green rain slicker, the hood thrown back with the rain gone at last. Around his neck sits a warm looking scarf, and upon his back is an ancient leather backpack.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Not too far from the theater is an ice cream parlor. Not a gelato bar or a creamery or, really, anything more pretentious than your average baskin robbins. 31 flavors and all.

It's a little after the dinner hour for a sunday night, though still early enough that most restaurants are crowded. Lukas and Danička, however, have either already eaten or have decided to make their dinner sweet and cold. Coming out of the ice cream parlor, Lukas has a doublescoop waffle cone (butter pecan on top. pistachio on bottom) in one hand; Danička's hand in the other.

Because it's totally warm enough at 40-some-odd degrees to eat ice cream.

[Imogen Slaughter] (hey, guys, i'm sorry, i'm gonna back out! I'm glad I've started an open scene though, so have fun! *grin*)

[Danička Musil] For Danička, there is no weather cold enough to preclude the purchase and ingestion of ice cream. She said as much. Though: her hands are gloved, in slim black leather with hints of gray-brown fur at the cuffs when the sleeve of her wool jacket pulls away. And: there's a knitted green hat on her blonde head, straightened hair spilling out from under it, a tiny decorative brim at the front.

She has a sugar cone. Tiny. Pointed. And it has a scoop of what's known as World Class Chocolate on top. Their cones match their relative sizes. Her boots don't have tall heels, so the ten-inch difference between her height and Lukas's is rather pronounced this evening. That's not even touching how much bigger he is in general than she is. The green-eyed woman walking hand-in-hand with a man most people on this street shy away from is slight, slender, and probably only very, very rarely eats ice cream.

Doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy it. She looks quite happy, licking away and taking small bites of her scoop as they walk from the shop. Everyone around them thinks she's a fool, that she's kidding herself if she thinks that he won't beat her when they get home this time, that he isn't going to kill her one of these days, just look at him, there's got to be something wrong with him

and so, by virtue of the fact that she's with him and holding his hand, something must be wrong with her, too.

Except that Thoth's senses tell him differently. He can catch their breeding on the wind, see the authority and strength in the way Lukas carries himself. He can tell on every breath inward: Shadow Lords. Tall, cold, dark, craggy mountains. Expansive fields of wildflowers and vineyards. Storms overhead and the threat of storms on the horizon. A winding creek under sunlight, a hearth surrounded by sleeping children. Cubs.

The variances of their breeding conflict as he picks them up: Lukas is tall, swarthy, dark of hair and crystalline of eye. Danička is slight, fair, and fragile-looking. But Shadow Lords. Shadow Lords, from tips to toes.

[Thoth Massri] He's not afraid of meeting new Garou, not even Shadow Lords, it was a prerequisite for being who and what he was. He moves slowly and steady, moving around the growing crowd and crossing the street to the side with Lukas and Danička. He walks like a man more used to the shifting sands and broken rock fields of another land, but those strides are without timidity and he finds Lukas' gaze long before he gets close, a heads up, just incase one was needed.

He slows as he draws nearer, and calls out to the pair. "Good evening, a fine night for treats." His tone is cool, but it has the underlying tone of friendship in it. His accent is strange he is obviously not from this area, and his voice is thick and rumbling, like the sound of distant thunder.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas: tall. Swarthy. Dark of hair, crystalline of eye. Every inch a Shadow Lord, and a full moon, and quite possibly one of the most dangerous people in the city. Though person, in this case, is a loose definition.

It's a little incongruous, then, to see him so evidently enjoying his ice cream and the company of his mate. The clasp of his hand is loose and happy. Their hands swing a little as they walk. There's something vaguely canine about the cant of the Ahroun's head as he goes at his cone; the way he nips carefully at the cold treat, then licks his lips as it melts between his teeth. Studies the cone for the next angle of attack even as he's swallowing the last bite.

When Thoth addresses them, Lukas raises his head suddenly, his eyes snapping to the stranger. They're blue, but in this light: simply pale, clear as ice. He stares at Thoth for a moment, brow faintly furrowed. Then the expression clears into something like recognition, relaxation.

"It is," he agrees, amiably enough. "I haven't seen your family in this city for a long time."

...which is probably Danička's first real indication that the stranger is more than a stranger.

[Danička Musil] The man who calls out to them makes Danička start. She pulls up short as she's going for another delicate bite of her ice cream and turns her head, looking right at him with those eyes of indistinct coloration. Her hand tightens almost imperceptibly -- certainly not tightly enough for Thoth to see -- in Lukas's, a mere flex of tension that immediately abates.

In this, she and he are similar for a moment beyond their bloodlines: the way they both look so suddenly and sharply at Thoth, though Danička's expression is closest to startlement and fear and Lukas's... undeniably something quite different.

Lukas says what he says, and Danička licks her lips demurely, blinking a couple of times and looking away from Thoth then. She is quiet a second or two, then smiles faintly at him. A bit warily, perhaps.

[Thoth Massri] "That is as surprising as rainfall in March, I'm sure you know as well as I we are where we need to be, and never anywhere else." That small smile parts his lips teeth remaining hidden, as he keeps his gaze fixed upon the pair. He takes a few more steps forward now that they are aware of him and his presence, and he spreads his arms, a sign of openness, no threats to be found. The slick reveals to be almost like a cloak, or poncho, as the arms almost seem to be apart of the body itself.

"My name is Thoth Massri and I have come for many reason's, none of them with ill intent. I hope the tidings are returned."

He says as he slowly raises an arm, hand extended slowly open and turned upward, perhaps expecting a friendly greeting, though his face seems prepared for the opposite, his eyes guaging their movements, their reactions to him. That first contact was always so touchy.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Of course." The arm extended is clasped without hesitation, solidly, even warmly. "I'm Lukáš, called Wyrmbreaker. This is my mate, Dani&+269;ka Musil. We're Shadow Lords."

-- as if that were not already evident from their blood, their breeding, every last thing about them. There's an inevitable wariness of Shadow Lords. Lukas recognizes it so well he hardly thinks of it anymore. He can't even remember when he learned that no one, not even another Shadow Lord, trusts a Shadow Lord easily -- or at all. A stranger in a strange city is bound to show some caution, but Lukas suspects if his blood had spoken of Unicorn, or perhaps even of Stag, Thoth Massri might not have made such an effort to present himself as unarmed, without ill intent.

Then again, the Strider might recognize a similar wariness in the many and myriad faces he meets. Striders are messengers, word-bearers. And these days, the news is rarely good.

"I'm the alpha of my pack and tribe," Lukas continues, "and the elder of the Ahrouns in this protectorate. Do you bring news for us, Strider?"

[Thoth Massri] "My tidings may be late of this hour Wyrmbringer, the enemy stirs in great numbers on your borders of that I am sure you know. I bring hope as well, my tribesmen have heard of the danger to this area, and they spread the word even now. For now though, I am here to help in the stead of others."

He cant's his head to the side, and holds his hands out wide. "I am Thoth called The Scales Fulcrim and I am here to strengthen the fortitude and resolve of this cities warriors, and route out weakness where it hides."

He steps back at that, as if prepared to leave if his news is found ill or his aid unwanted. Waiting for an elder of all luck, to decide.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [psst. wyrmbreaker.]

[Thoth Massri] ((Crap, my bad >_

[Thoth Massri] ((there too damn close together, and im way to used to playing uktena who hate shadow lords!))

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] If the stylized gestures and motions amuse or perplex Lukas, he keeps it carefully and politely hidden. The Ahroun's eyes are keen and clear, staying on the Philodox's face as he introduces himself and his purpose.

"Well, I'm glad to have you, Scale's Fulcrum," Lukas replies. "You'll be staying in the city for the foreseeable future, then?"

[Thoth Massri] He nods slowly it almost looks like how one might imagine a boulder nodding, and his face falls into a neutral mask as he stands there now his arms returning beneath the poncho.

"I will, as long as I am needed."

A relatively simple answer after the elaborate response previously used, perhaps it was something practiced, an old tradition, but now he returns to his normal self, short on words when flowery speeches or prose were not needed.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "You should join a pack, then, even if it's just for the duration of your stay in the protectorate. When we move against the Spirals in the north, everything will be ordered along pack units." He thinks for a moment. "War Crucible and Truth in Frenzy-rhya's packs could both use a Philodox. If you haven't found a pack by the time we go to battle, you're welcome to run with mine.

"You should also know that you have a kinswoman in the city by the name of Gina McLaren. Right now she's in the care of a Fianna, but I believe it's a temporary arrangement until a wolf of Owl's blood arrived. Dani&+269;ka, do you have Gina's phone number?"

[Danička Musil] As the two of them speak to one another -- Strider to Lord, Cliath to Fostern, one moon to another -- the aforementioned mate of the Ahroun stands quietly. She begins eating her ice cream cone again only when it threatens to melt onto her gloves, and she eats as unobtrusively as possible, seemingly focused on it. There's something childlike about how she stands there so quietly, licking her treat and holding Lukas's hand. There's a softness to her features that makes her look tender, makes her fragility that much more apparent.

A couple of times she dares to look upward, to look at Thoth as he's gesticulating and speaking. At the mention of Gina, her eyebrow quirks and then immediately goes back down. She smiles a little, something glinting in her eyes. "I do." And with that she's slipping her hand away from Lukas's, reaching into her coat pocket for her iPhone to call up Ms. McLaren's digits.

[Iona McNevin] It was done! She had spent 2 weeks on it. Two hard gruling weeks spending blood, sweat and tears into this project requested of her. But finally, IT WAS DONE! She had never spent so much time on a project before. But she wanted it perfect. After tecting Lukas to find out where he was, she made her way to the Mile and the Baskin Robins that they were apparently outside of.

Lukas would automatically recognize the beat up '50s Ford that could really use some work. But it ran and got her where she needed to go. The engine took a minute to finally shut off, even after she had turned the key and pulled it out. She stepped out and looked around til she found Lukas, and smiled. She was still dirty from work, having come straight from it. Apparently her date with Ray had given her a great deal of inspiration.

Pocketing her hands in her old military jacket she always wore, she made her way over, smiling brightly, almost proudy.

[Thoth Massri] "I will take your suggestions to heart, and thank you for your offer."

His eyes are cast now to Danička, as she holds information he may find very useful. But if he is interested or not his face doesn't betray him he stands their placid as a still morning lake. When Iona's ford pulls up, Thoth doesn't move, only his eyes glance in the direction of her vehicle.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] As the Philodox's attention turns to the kinswoman, Lukas glances over at the beaming Iona. "Hey, Iona," he greets her. "Scale's Fulcrum, this is Banshee of the Fianna, my packmate. Banshee, Scale's Fulcrum of the Silent Striders, new in town."

Introductions accomplished, Lukas goes on, "You look happy."

[Danička Musil] Rage trickles into the area, becoming more like a current, then a deluge, the nearer other Garou get. Danička focuses her eyes on her sleek little phone, then glances at Thoth. "Do you have a pen? Or else a superb memory for numbers?"

[Iona McNevin] She smiled, her accent a think Irish bred. "I dinnah believe I eva met a Strider befo'. It's a pleasure indeed."

She reached up to pull the band from her hair to let it fall. "Aye, ~rhya. Tha' special project ye requested? It's finally done. Tis in the truck if'n ye wan' tae see it."

[Thoth Massri] His neutral face twists slightly, as if the woman had slightly insulted his capabilities, but he keeps any complaints under wraps, to challenge the elder's kin, was to challenge the elder. He simply nods curtly and speaks in that deep rumbling tone of his. "Tell me the number, I will not forget it."

His tone indicates that he won't that such things are not forgotten by the striders. When Iona steps up he turns his attention to her and looks down, his dark face appreciative for her greeting a thin smile showing it.

"It is good to meet you."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Hm." The Shadow Lord looks passingly at the truck. His lips quirk: a flash of a smile. "Maybe a little later? You should give it to Sinclair yourself, though. I didn't really mean it as a commission. The idea was to give you a project that might foster some goodwill between packmates."

[Iona McNevin] She looked a bit confused for a momen. Iona had never expected any type of montary payment."I though' this was' a gift fro' ye tae Sinclair?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas turns more fully to face Iona. He's eating an ice cream cone, in fact, and takes a bite now as it threatens to melt.

"No," he says, faintly puzzled too now, "I just meant if you had the time and inclination, it'd be something nice that you could do for a packmate. I hope you didn't rush to get it done."

[Danička Musil] Tension squirms up Danička's spine. It's visible, though subtle: her neck bowed but her spine straight, her eyes on her phone as she recites Gina's number aloud to Thoth. That done, she locks the screen and puts it away, all the gestures practiced, familiar, graceful. She looks up and gives a nod of hello to Iona, slipping her hand easily back into Lukas's. She flicks her eyes back and forth between the two Unbroken, not looking at Thoth again.

If there was any question as to whether or not she picked up on his displeasure, that should answer it.

[Thoth Massri] Even if his displeasure was easily known, Thoth was nothing if not polite, after Danička had given him the information he gives her a slight smile.

"Thank you Danička, just so you know, we of owls children are not in the habit of carrying paper, messages are better remembered, then carried."

At that he puts the matter to rest and looks to the Lord and the Fianna curious as to what precisely they were talking about.

[Iona McNevin] She shrugged. "Duh's nah matter. I would have made her something sooner o' later anyhow. " She held up a finger though. "I d want ye tae see it though. Tae give me ye impression on if'n she'll like it o' nah." She motioned to stay right there and wisked back to the truck. The gift was in the back, and she reached into the bed to grab it. It was long and wrapped in a black velvet, tied with twine. She came back over, and untied it , laying it in her arms like a newborn babe. Slowly she opened the velvet and he saw the axe.

http://www.chicagodusk.com/index.php?jove=gallery&picture=5333

"I made sure tha blade was perfect, an sharp as all hell too. And tha handle, I made that from marble, making it strong enough fo' crinos hands."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Wait -- "

It's too late. She's already gone to get the axe. Lukas grimaces faintly, his hand wrapping around Danička's as she puts her phone away. Instinctively, the Shadow Lord's ice-pale eyes flick up and down the street. At least it's late. At least it's Sunday night.

Then she's back, axe in hand. Iona unveils it; Lukas glances at it for a moment, then quickly flicks the velvet back over the weapon.

"It's lovely, Iona," he says quietly. "But put it aside for now. You're going to get arrested."

[Iona McNevin] "Hm" It took her a moment. "Oh aye. I fo'got about tha'." She wrapped it back up and tied it once more. Now it was safely hidden away in the black velvet as it laid in her arm like a babe. I just really wanted ye opinion on it, in case ye think Sinclair might disapprove o' it. I've nah made an axe like thih in some time. Just basic ones." She smiled as she looked at the wrappped gift in her arms. "~Rhya, is there something I could be makin' fo' ye?"

[Thoth Massri] Thoth watches Iona as she pulls the blade in public, and he barely raises a brow as he regards its fine lines and well...illegal qualities.

"A fine thing, a little garish though."

Is his only comment, it is hard to tell given his clothing if he is relaxed or tense as his face does not betray to much emotion, only his eyes seem to betray him at all. They twinkle, an amused look, he hasn't been among his cousins in some time, it would be interesting to learn their habits and foibles, Iona already revealing one of them.

[Danička Musil] She smiles softly at Thoth, the corners of her lips turning up a bit, and just nods. She's said very little since he approached, though if he's met many Shadow Lords in his travels that might not surprise him. Their kin are seldom... outspoken. Seldom strongwilled. Often broken, one way or another, by their relationship to their tribe.

And then there's Iona running back to them. With an axe. Danička blinks, peering curiously past Lukas's arm to look at the weapon that Iona unwraps. She blinks again, looking over her shoulder and up and down the street before looking back at the ...enormous... battleaxe.

She presses her lips together and ducks her head, as Iona and Lukas cover it back up and Thoth calls it 'garish'.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I'm fine as I am, Iona. Thanks anyway." He nods at the truck. "Go ahead and put that back."

Then his eyes come back to Thoth's, level, laughless. There's a moment, a long cool stare, until whatever amusement he might see there has died or run its course. The Strider learns something else about this pack, the Unbroken, then: whatever the fallibilities of his packmates, Lukas will not easily suffer them to be mocked or disgraced by an outsider.

Evenly, he returns to the prior subject: "Anyway, you should get in contact with Gina. It's been a long time since she's had a Strider guardian, and she'll probably appreciate being back amongst her own."

[Iona McNevin] She gave a simple nod and turned on her heels to head back to her truck.

[Thoth Massri] "Again my thanks for the welcome and the information Wyrmbreaker-ryha. I will find her in due course." He bows his head slightly, understanding full well what the gaze mean't he'd tested the situation, and he had been given his answer, strength exactly as he expected.

"If you will excuse me. I must get several more miles behind me before my night is finished. Gaia grace you."

The last is said formally, a fairwell meant for those who are brothers. At that he takes two noticeable steps back, before turning, and making to leave.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "And you, Scale's Fulcrum."

The farewell is returned courteously, with something like formality. The man leaves as he came: on foot. Somehow, Lukas suspects he's walked a long, long way already.

[Iona McNevin] She came back after stashing the axe, and waved to Thoth as he left. Then her attention went to Lukas. "Well, I just wanted tae get ye'r opinion. I should be headin' off then. Let ye two love birds have some time alone." She winked, and once more, it was back to her truck.

[Danička Musil] Her head comes up in time to nod a goodbye to Thoth as he heads off, and to hear Iona call them lovebirds. Perhaps appropriately, she does smile, and laugh softly as though embarrassed. Lovebirds. Well. Maybe they are.

[Thoth Massri] Thoth didn't stop, and he walks with a gait and speed of someone used to travelling long distances and conserving energy. He turns down an alley...and is gone.

[Thoth Massri] [[Thank you all!]]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [thanks!]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas waits til Thoth is around the corner, then calls out to his packmate.

"Hey, Iona." When she turns, he nods to her. "Good work on the axe. Just be careful of your surroundings. You're not in Stark Falls anymore, and you have to be aware of the eyes around you."

[Iona McNevin] She nodded. "Aye. Tae use to bein' able tae show off." She smiled. "Dinnah worry, woh't happen again."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I know it won't," Lukas replies. There's a warmth in that, genuine. "You drive safe in that rustbucket, Iona."

[Iona McNevin] A nod. "Doh't do nothing I wouldn't do." Which wasn't a whole hell of alot. With that, she climbed into her truck and headed for BOHO

[Danička Musil] She's almost done with her ice cream. She had less to start out with, and she's had more time in silence to spend licking and nibbling at it. Danička's getting down to her cone now, holding Lukas's hand and -- as soon as Iona and Thoth have wandered on their merry ways -- swinging his hand in hers a bit. "It really was a bit much, you have to admit," she says idly.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Absolutely," Lukas agrees. He's just now getting to his waffle cone, teeth crunching noisily through the crispy-baked crust. "But that's for me to say, not a stranger. Especially after his little comment about keeping digits in his head."

[Danička Musil] "He was so offended," Danička says, her voice rich with something that sounds quite a bit like amusement. "God forbid an utter stranger not know everything about his tribe." She smirks and bites into her cone. "Poor Iona, though. She seemed so happy and proud of it."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Well," he starts walking again. His hand is bare tonight -- no glove, no mitt. Even through the thin leather of her glove, she can feel the warmth of his skin. "I've no doubt that it could split someone's head open like a watermelon, so in that sense, it's worthy of pride.

"Iona's a Fianna, though." Lukas sounds wryly amused. "Knots and curlicues and ornateness and complexity's in her blood. I think she senses that others aren't quite into all that, but when she tries for simplicity or a more streamlined style... yeah."

Lukas pauses to slip the paper wrapper off his cone, lifting it up and tilting his head back to slurp melted ice cream out the hole in the bottom. Then, crunching into the top again, "Anyway. What was that look you got when I mentioned McLaren?"

[Danička Musil] Odd that she should be the one with fur tonight, soft on her wrists, hugging her arms where they meet her sleeves. She tightens her hand on Lukas's as they stroll, pretending she's not as cold as she is, what with the ice cream and the chill and the wind coming off the lake. She walks close to him. The night gets darker, and colder, and the streets become more empty.

"So... did I tell you that Montressor Sabine was elected the chair of the coalition, and that during the last meeting I challenged him?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] They're leaving the crowded, brightly lit nucleus of the Mile behind. The streets are darker. When they pass the east-west avenues, the wind comes straight off the lake, frigid and cold. After a while Lukas finishes his cone, tosses the wrapped. When he comes back, he walks to the right of Danička -- on the windward side.

And his hand wraps solidly around hers, clasping her slender fingers to his broad palm. He puts her hand in the pocket of his coat, which is a lighter overcoat tonight, more suited for autumn than winter.

His forehead furrows faintly as he glances her way. "No, you didn't. What happened?"

[Danička Musil] She shifts her cone from right to left hand, savoring the last bites of the cone even as Lukas scarfs the rest of his down. She's still licking, crunching, the napkin wrapped around the cone rustling to keep her luxurious gloves safe from trickles of melted sweet cream. It's effortless, the switch, the opening of her right hand to his hand.

She lets him put her hand in his pocket, and laughs softly. But she keeps it there, and walks closer to him, against his side. "Oh, he was all bluster about how he was voted in, he'd be voted out, blah blah blah. And I told him that if another popular vote constituted the terms, which were his to set, then fine, so be it. I wasn't surprised; he wasn't at the first meeting, or the second. Didn't know that challenges were a part of the idea from the beginning and a vote was simply to set up the infrastructure. Misrepresented himself before the vote, stamped down on anyone who tried to get away from his rather limited brainstorming session and back to the agenda afterward. Accused me of wanting to be chairperson."

She shrugs, and finishes her cone. Chews the tip of it carefully, swallows, and throws away the napkin. "So, since he'd proven himself unfit, I challenged him. We were going to have the leaders of the Training and Support teams, and Lee since she's one of the only other people on the Information team, moderate? But Moira got up and left the meeting without a word and I haven't heard from her since. And so I called Gina, who I also thought would have made a good Support team leader."

She smiles benignly. "She swore and hung up on me. She was rather vocally in support of Monty during the last meeting, seemed convinced most of us were there to rally up Kin Power Rebellion or some such nonsense, and didn't look too happy with anyone who didn't get stars in their eyes at the sound of every word from that fluttering fatass's mouth."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Montressor Sabine. Monty. Fluttering fatass. The truth is, through it all, Lukas can't quite bring this man into mind. Doesn't matter: he hears all he needs to know, and snorts softly as Danička says misrepresented and stamped down on anyone and accused me.

It answers his question about Gina, too. And it says something that Danička didn't simply say she didn't have Gina's number. That she didn't go out of her way to sabotage the other kin, no matter how slightly, no matter how she was treated by her.

"That's a shame," he says. "We could've really used some organization in the kin ranks. So what's going on with the coalition now?"

[Danička Musil] She shrugs. "Monty won the vote again," she says, without much investment. "He spoke quite a bit at the meeting about offering GPS chips to those who want to get them implanted -- my guess is that even if they aren't smart enough to realize what a bad idea that is, most of them are too stubborn and frantic about their privacy and 'independence' to get them -- and about meeting with all the team leaders individually. I have yet to hear from him. Frankly, the way he was talking at the meeting, he sees the hierarchy very differently than I envisioned it.

"What I think," she says quietly, "is that in trying to do everything himself and everything at once, including his own work in the human world, rather than letting the team leaders lead their teams... he'll burn out."

Danička smiles faintly, without humor, up at her mate. "If not...at best, he'll have a small group of Kinfolk who can't figure out if they actually want to do anything or not, and their job will be to do what he says. And when they don't like it, they'll leave, because the instinct to form packs is not as strong with us as it is with you. That's what I think, though. And I may be wrong."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Danička doesn't seem too devastated by her loss, but Lukas looks at her anyway for a moment, his eyes keen; sympathetic, though far from pitying.

She goes on to give a rather grim prognosis for the future of the coalition. There's little humor in her. There's quite a bit of frustration in him, leashed in the way his hand comes up, rakes back through his hair. Drops again.

"That's a shame," he repeats; there's no way this can be mistaken for empty consolation now. "God damn it. Well, are you still willing to lead the information team? Or just serve as a sort of touchstone for kin with connections?"

[Danička Musil] "The information team," she says with some wryness, "is Lee and myself. Lee's primary membership is in the training team. I doubt at this point that any attempt on my part to do something outside of what Monty's told me to do will be looked on as trying to 'take over'." A faint smirk. They're nearing North Kingsbury. Passing the river. So on.

"I'm not even sure who else is on the information team, because that part of the agenda -- new joiners, primary memberships, etcetera -- was steamrolled as unimportant, and then the scrapbooking club came in and I left."

Lightly: "My account was still charged for another fifteen minutes for the room, since apparently Monty closed the door in the faces of some soccer moms and people kept talking for a bit after that. And they charge in fifteen minute increments, so... there you go." She shrugs. "I'd call him a piece of shit, but the idea of that much excrement is nauseating."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Well, the three Shadow Lord kin that came to town the last few weeks are all right up information alley," he replies. "Hold on a second, let me find their cards."

He lets go her hand for a moment, stopping to unbutton his coat and retrieve his wallet, which he flips open. Plastic money, paper money, a receipt and a snapshot of his family share space with a sizeable collection of business cards. He riffles through the, passes two to Danička.

"Ray Ostermann calls himself a businessman, but I think most people would call him a corporate raider. Leslie Chadwick claims to have quite a bit of political influence. They both seemed very interested in getting their figurative hands dirty to put some pressure on the Hive's holdings. I think they're literally waiting for someone to call the shots."

The wallet goes back into his inner pocket. The coat, rebuttoned. He takes her hand again and replaces it in his pocket, where the heat of his hand has managed to create a bubble of warmth. "And you met Jesmond too. I haven't really had a chance to figure out what she does with her time, but she was definitely interested in some sort of structure as well.

"I think you should keep trying to lead your team, and I could give a shit whether or not 'Monty' likes it. If he can help, great. If he's just going to get in the way, fuck him. This is bigger than him." No pun intended. "The bottom line is, I don't think running into Moraine Hills and killing every Spiral we see is going to do very much. Their real strength is the political-economic chokehold they've got over the town."

[Danička Musil] She's quiet as she watches him rifle through his wallet. He tells her about Ray and Leslie, kin to their tribe. And yes: she met Jesmond, and she remembers that night quite vividly. The woman spoke of leadership, of people pushing their own agendas and the cost of progress for all. She glances at their cards quickly, then puts them away, near her phone.

Her brow furrows a little bit at the end of what Lukas has to say, though. "What I'm telling you, though, love, is... there essentially is no information team. Few if any of the members of the coalition as it is seem interested in that area. Hell, they hardly seem interested in doing anything but securing their own safety. Every mention I made of the war you're about to wage was waved away in that meeting.

"I think Mr. Sabine's skills would be very useful to you in this, but it's not about whether he likes it or not: it's about how firmly he came down on whatever was outside his vision. I'm saying that with myself and a photographer who mostly wants to kickbox and a four hundred pound Fenrir getting in the way of anything I attempt, there's not much for me to do with the coalition. And frankly, given the snide, too-cool-for-school attitude of so many of the little shits, I could care less what he does with the organization itself."

She got worked up. Slightly. For Danička, getting 'worked up' means talking a little faster, a touch louder, and then -- as soon as she notices -- pulling it all back. She strokes her gloved fingers over his bare ones inside his pocket. "Baby... I don't even know what you want the Kin to do with Moiraine Hills. If I were to try and take apart the Hive's control over the town, I wouldn't even know where to begin, what sort of concrete goals to set in the larger picture. That's something, I do admit, Monty would be good at. Maybe Ray. Maybe Leslie. But I don't know what needs to be done, and I'll lose my mind if the coalition I set up to try and aid with things like this is the very thing getting in my way at every turn."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas takes a deep, quick breath, an audible hiss of air that hints at his own frustration. Then her fingers stroke his. In his pocket, his hand opens a little, letting her fingers between his, closing again.

"I know there's no info team right now, baby," he says quietly. "What I'm saying is, I hope you'll contact those three and try to get them on the same page. As the information team, as the Shadow Lord kin alliance, whatever.

"As for what I want the kin to do -- the first thing on the list is to get this community center that's sprung up next to the church out of the picture. Bought up, shut down, I don't care which." A beat of pause. "God, I should probably explain the situation before I just dive in and expect you to know what I'm talking about."

[Danička Musil] Her brow furrows for a moment when he talks about the community center. And then smooths. When he stops himself, she lifts her eyebrows. "Ya think?"

There's not pure frustration in it. Some. And very little of it, truth be told, has anything to do with him. She's a bit distant, despite their physical closeness, and he can pick up on that even if he can't pick up on why. Maybe he can guess. He has come to know her. Better than most. Better than any, really.

She exhales, though. "Can we talk about it tomorrow? This... wasn't really how I saw spending my evening with you." A faint frown. "I know that's selfish. But can we just go see Shutter Island like we were going to --"

because it's a new moon, and it's at least possible for them to go do something as mundane, as normal, as human as go to the movies,

"-- and talk about... 'business' when the sun's up?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [wits + emp!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] At that, Lukas stops, turning to her. This torques his coat, their hands still linked in the pocket. He leans into her, almost abruptly, rubs his jaw to her temple, breathes in.

And out.

"I'm sorry," he says, low. He stays against her for another moment, his hand warm, his face warm, his breath warm: everything about him hinting at the supernatural furnace of his rage.

Then he steps back, summons up a smile. "Come on. Let's go see the movie."

[Danicka Musil] Suddenly he's against her, still holding her hand as though to make sure she doesn't slip away, and bowing his head and shoulders to her to make contact. In the middle of the sidewalk, less than a block from her apartment building where they'll spend the night tonight, he stops midstep to nuzzle her. And Danicka's eyes fall closed for a moment. She rests her temple against his face, still enough to imply serenity when he knows that on some level she is always in chaos, always as feral and furtive as any once-captive animal set back into the wild.

His apology murmurs out like a caress over the top curve of her ear, and that is when Danicka nuzzles him back. That is when some of that distance drops away, that steeling of herself for resignation. Because: they're at war. Because: her mate is the elder of warriors. Because: the war comes before all things, interrupts all things, destroys all things if it is not fought. But he says he's sorry, and so she starts to believe that at least for tonight, they have their ice cream and then their movie and order dinner to be delivered to her place. They can eat there and talk about the movie. She can have her mate for the night, and the Ahroun Elder in the morning, when they talk about Moraine Hills over coffee and eggs.

Scrambled. With some tomato and sausage. And toast.

They slowly separate, and Danicka smiles faintly back at him. Neither of them are quite past their own frustrations, and she still believes his was directed at her, and he still thinks she's in charge of or leading anything --

though tomorrow morning they may talk about that, when their relative frustrations spike again. When the sun is up and the moon isn't out and her mate is, for all his rage and rank and status in the sept, still the impossibly warm body that held her in bed after making love and stroked her arm and covered her legs with one of his own and kept her warm as she panted and came down from orgasm. Tomorrow morning, when the spectre of disappointment isn't drawing down the corners of her mouth, it might be easier to talk about why discussing the coalition aggravates her so.

But for now:

Danicka's smile up at him is growing more warm and more genuine as they start to walk again. She leans against his side, and eventually he shifts his arm from holding her hand to wrapping around her as they walk, and she says:

"I actually read the book awhile ago, so I know the big secret, or whatever you want to call it. I don't know if the movie will be any good, but Ben Kingsley is perfect..."

And so on. They don't get popcorn. Later on, they get Chinese food at her place while they talk about Scorsese's latest. Crispy banana rolls and all. Scallops. Broccoli beef. The works. And they play Wii. And she feigns cheating, 'accidentally' bumping into him so his arm jerks out of the way, and laughs as she drops the controller on the couch and bolts across the living room

and he catches her

and it doesn't make her go rigid with terror, but laugh that much harder as his arms encircle her from the side.

Which makes him kiss her, somehow, as though right then he simply needs to. Which is how they end up in bed, the television turned off on their way back towards the hall, Danicka's body lifted up against his and her hands on his cheeks and her kisses soft. Slow. Tender. Not unlike how they make love, with her back to his chest as they lie on their sides, his hand between her legs and her face turned towards her pillow to moan when it isn't turned over her shoulder to kiss him, or to open her mouth to his and just... gasp.

The sun's on his back when he wakes, coming through her windows. And she's smiling, eyes closed, as he nuzzles the back of her neck, murmuring

Dobre ráno, můj lodní důstojník.