[Imogen Slaughter] She steps outside of a cafe, which is known for its tea - though a newcomer would likely neither know it nor care. It's one of those things she found out by accident - looseleaf teas of all variety and a vegetarian menu which is certainly not a necessity, but an interesting change of pace.
It's a cafe that gets a mixture of folk, mostly yuppies and some of the higher end artisans. Almost none of them smoke - so, as she lights her cigarette just beyond the door, she gets a chilly glance from another exiting patron.
The kinwoman watches him go without expression, neither rising to meet his challenge nor backing away. She watches him until he leaves, exhaling a breath of smoke into the wind.
[Hector Burnell] The car is an ugly, mean kind of mustard yellow. Bleached by sun, salt spray and neglect over the years, the paintjob is slowly losing ground to rust and dents. It's the kind of car that might have been a mid-life crisis yuppie's dream in the 80's, a cockrocket Corvette knock-off. Now it looks more like something that's been salvaged from the junkyard, given one last chance at life and speed by somebody sufficiently obtuse to realize that it stopped being cool sometime when Bill Clinton was in the White House.
It doesn't purr, rather, it continously hawks and coughs, the sound of the engine unhealthy, ruinous. Idling along in traffic, something suddenly retches deep beneath the hood, and black, poisonous smoke begins to belch forth.
The driver pulls over onto the shoulder of the road, sliding roughly into an empty parking space that was fortuitously right before it. The grinding yank of the parking break, and then the driver's door is thrown open with unnecessary roughness.
[Lukas] (btw, don't wait on me guys. i'm making some food.)
to Edward Bellamonte, Hector Burnell, Imogen Slaughter
[Edward Bellamonte] Edward Bellamonte can seldom be found without at least one of his packmates - now is no different, really, as he swings into a parking spot in his shiny, fine silver car. Lukas, next to him, may or may not be white knuckling the handle provided for such things - Edward drives fast, and Edward drives recklessly. Regardless, the parking spot is not far from a certain yellow monstrosity (one that makes Edward wrinkle his nose in distaste) and certainly near enough to see a certain red-headed kin.
"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad. Wuss." This quiet teasing comes only when he's close enough to his packmate for his words not to travel far - one never knows who's listening, after all. The yellow car gets no undue notice (Edward is far from a mechanic, though he does pull out a cell phone in case some auto club or another needs to be called - he's a considerate snob, perhaps) though the girl (woman, really, as she's most definitely older than his baby face would proclaim him) gets a raised eyebrow and a longer moment of attention - likely due to the incongruity of smoking just outside of such an establishment.
The question comes easily, and with a relaxed and still winning boyish grin. "I hear this place has the best tea in the greater Chicago area. Is it true?"
[Imogen Slaughter] It's the sound of the engine that catches her attention - loud and choppy, carelessly maintained. It's a little out of place for it - though this is hardly a luxurious part of downtown, it's not particularly downtrodden.
She looks away soon after, an absent but continuous scan of her surroundings. She doesn't smoke in her car and therefore is here until the cigarette's completion, or at least until her boredom with it.
The kinwoman's slight, bright haired, fair skinned. It doesn't take much to sense her breeding, little more than a glance, a deep breath in her direction. It touches her posture, her bones and the skin that clothes it. The sharp sound of the door being thrown open catches her attention. She watches the driver exit briefly, looking away to ash her cigarette. She frowns slightly as something niggles at the back of her mind - catches in her thoughts.
Before she gets the chance to turn back, Edward speaks to her. Her gaze flicks upward, an eyebrow arching sharply.
"I wouldn't know," her voice, accented. European, perhaps; Australian, at a stretch. "Having not tried them all."
[Lukas] First the hole in the wall cafe near the caern; now this. A step up from the last, at least. Edward drives fast, Edward drives recklessly, Edward swoops up to the curb fast enough to make Lukas grit his teeth and utter something unpleasant under his breath.
Then the engine cuts. Lukas pushes his door open -- riding shotgun -- and gets out. He unfolds; he's tall, quite, dressed for the weather and dressed well -- layers of brushed wool, thin-knit wool, fine cotton. He fills out his outfit in a way that suggests a build that could win a few arm wrestling matches, and a few fistfights as well. The heater had been on high in the car, and his cheeks are faintly flushed: washes of color under the broad, prominent cheekbones. He shuts the door behind him, angling his head back to read the sign, but by then Edward has come around the car and gained the curb, passing Lukas to approach the unmistakably purebred woman.
"Jesus, please don't start--" -- this in an undertone, which Edward blithely ignores as he sallies forth.
Of the pair, Edward is likely the more openly charismatic; Lukas is the quieter. Were they brothers, which they almost are, Edward would be the bright brother, Lukas the dark. The analogy runs deeper than complexion and coloring. Left no real choice, he follows in Ed's wake, frowning a little, looking over the street.
[Hector Burnell] The door bounces back, and catches the driver on the shoulder as he piles out of the mustard hued car. With a curse he slams it away from him again, and continues to heave his bulk out of the seat. He's large. Not massive as in tall, but broad, deep chested, with a gut like a barrel and jaw like an anvil. The car rises a couple of inches once his weight is off its springs, and seems to almost sigh with relief.
Hector slams the door closed hard enough to cause the glass to rattle. His face is mottled with anger, patches gone red over his fair skin, stubble catching the dying afternoon sunlight and turning to gold over his heavy cheeks. Raking his straw blonde hair back from his brow, he stomps around to the front of the car and stares death at the hood.
He looms over the car, seems to be trying to resist tearing the racing hood right off, twin black racing stripes and all. He ignores the black smoke that curls about him, if anything deriving dark pleasure from how much more its stench pisses him off.
"Mother fuckin' cock sucker," he says, each word clipped in fury, his accent ringing with the twangs of the deep south. Reaching down, he feels for the release catch, and then snatches his hand away as the heated hood sears his finger tips. "Fuck!" he yells, and smashes his fist sledgehammer style down on the hood.
[Amunet] ::Amunet walked threw this new part of town for her. Her pack was followin close behind, but she had come to scout out a bit more as they arranged themselves. Amunet was a woman of cafe latte complextion with dark brown hair messily slung up into a twist. Dark khol lined around amber eyes. She wasn't an attractive woman, but she wasn't ugly either. Just a woman, almost exsotic in a land of white and dark brown skin. She seemed miserably cold snugged deep down into a thick jacket and baggy black pants with boots that came up to her knees.::
[Amunet] ::Amunet grunts as she feels a 'little' irritation come from a pack mate not to far away. She walks with long steps coming nearer and nearer to Hector::
Your automobil is a piece of over run shit.
::She rumbles softly, her accent thick with an aribic slurr. As she walks torwards him her hand slides along his car starting from back moving to the front::
[Edward Bellamonte] That easy grin doesn't dim in the slightest - he just shrugs at the girl. "Ah, well, it was worth asking anyway, if only to be brushed off by a lovely woman on a miserable night." It's not flirtation, not really - the boy is somewhere in his late teens or early twenties, maybe, just maybe old enough to buy his own beer, or wine, or whatever it is that rich young men who drive silver luxury cars drink. Zima, perhaps.
Regardless, he pauses by the woman - intrigued more than anything else, as he's hardly accustomed to getting all but ignored. She's not quite hostile, of that he's fairly certain, but still . . . well. It's perhaps because of this near brush-off that he bothers to stay, to continue speaking though he guesses she's the sort of woman who will get more hostile as the time of proximity lengthens - it amuses, on some level. "My name is Edward Bellamonte - my friend Lukas," this with a nod in the general direction of his companion, "and I just moved to Chicago recently. We like tea."
[Imogen Slaughter] She lifts her cigarette to her mouth, her gaze flicking beyond Edward and Lukas to Hector, losing his shit over his automobile, the woman joining him. A spasm flickers between her eyebrows, there then gone as she turns back to look at Edward and his packmate.
She turns her head to blow cigarette smoke away from the pair. It's warm enough that she wears no scarf, the line of her throat is unobstructed above the collar of her black woolen coat. "A pleasure," she says, turning back.
A tilt of her head toward the cafe. "They serve the tea inside."
[Lukas] Lukas seems to be trying not to grimace as Edward loiters to make nice: he wears a look that says, I'm not here, I'm not with him. Introduced, he takes a moment to glance at the woman; nods perfunctorily on cue. The shouting behind him abruptly swings his attention around. It's not so much the cursing as it is the fist smashing into the hood -- the dent that's likely left behind. He turns back to Edward briefly.
"If they have coffee, would you buy me a cup? Cream, no sugar." He hands Bellamonte a five. "I'm going to see if I can help the fellow before he breaks his hand."
[Hector Burnell] "What?" he snaps, looking up, eyes unfocused, hazed with his anger and virulent irritation. Recognizing Amunet, he blinks, frowns, and then shakes his head as if dislodging thoughts.
"Yeah," he says, almost weakly, not knowing how to put his anger into words. Licking his lower lip, he stares down at the car, at the black, noxious smoke spewing free. He smiles at her, uncertain of whether she was making a joke or not, and then stares back down at the hood. A mean, hooded look veils his eyes. "Yeah, it's a piece of shit."
He steps back, and then with shocking speed and force plants the heel of his boot into the front of the hood, crumpling the metal. The car dips down beneath the force of the blow. Almost losing his balance, Hector takes another step back, and then kicks the front of the car again. There's a dull crumping noise, and then the hood slowly, almost lazily pops open, unleashing even more smoke into the cold air.
Coughing, waving his hand from side to side, Hector tries to peer into the car's innards.
[Amunet] ::She comes up next to him after he's done abusing his car. The look in her eyes were not approving. She clicks her tounge::
IF you keep beating it up how are we going to get it fixed?
::she raises a brow. Her eyes dark around them landing on Imogen for a moment looking her up and down. It was hard to feel the rage off Amunet. If was so small almost insubstansial. Though the errie feeling of 'otherness' screamed from her. She stunk of the umbra and death the smell of cinnomen and other spices trying to mask it. She looks back at Hector::
Control your self. others are watching. You got a phone? yes?
::Her hand comes up to her ear and she wiggles her finger as if imitating a cell phone::
We call tow, I have the chash
[Lukas] Others would flinch from the sheer fury Hector sets loose on his hapless car, would imagine themselves their fragile ribcages, their thigh-bones, their little skulls in the place of steel bumper and hood. Lukas' mouth twists once -- whether in in distaste or sympathy is hard to say -- and then he's near enough the other pair to speak at a comfortable volume.
"Hey. Wow. It ever do this before?" He pulls his gloves off as he speaks, holds his open hand over the engine. "Could just be out of coolant and overheating."
Breeding is etched into the bones of this one; rage as well. It would be hard to mistake him as anything but Garou. That said, if he suspects anything of the angry young man and his exotic companion, he does not show it.
[Edward Bellamonte] "I know how you take your coffee, dear," he says with a smirk and a light smack on the ass for good measure - and then he's headed inside, Lukas' money pocketed but not spent. Instead, he gets five to go cups - three of coffee, and two of the tea of the day as such places always have. The two extra coffees are left plain, as are the two teas, though Lukas' is fixed the way he likes it before he comes out. One tea is handed to Imogen - "I know you probably just finished one, and feel free to discard it if you like, but it would be impolite to buy one for everyone else and not you," he shrugs with that same boyish grin. - and the rest passed out amongst the assembled Garou.
Like his packmate, he leaves anything that marks the two strangers as Garou uncommented upon - just looks at the car and the engine compartment rather cluelessly. One would likely imagine the young Silver Fang has never looked inside an engine compartment in his live. "I can call someone for you, if you'd like."
[Imogen Slaughter] She's dropping her cigarette to the ground, crushing it out beneath her toe. A glance toward the tea he offers before she takes it - an absent "Ta."
Edward heads toward his packmate and the other Garou. Imogen heads in the opposite direction, walking down the street. She never takes a sip from the tea.
[Amunet] ::Amunet watch the others as they appeared her lips thined for a moment as if listening to something no one else heard. Then look at Hector. She gently takes the drink offered by Edward with a nod of thanks. Her hands were like small ice cubes that she warped around the cup. The look on her face was excstacy. Though when sniffed. Her face went politely blank...american swill water.::
I call may be appiated.
::She steps softly on Hector's foot to agree with her. She looks at Lukas as he makes his way into the engine. IF it weren't for the arid stink she might to it too to get warm. Gaia she missed her warm home. WHen the spirits led her here they didn't say it was one of the frozen hells.::
[Hector Burnell] The smoke is malodorous and tinged with blue, and seems to waft endlessly from the intestines of the car. Hector, burying his mouth and nose in the elbow of his arm, attempts to dive into the maelstrom, and then retreats, eyes watering. Furiously he blinks the tears away.
"If I keep kicking it," he answers Amunet, "Then maybe it'll learn a fuckin' lesson." He pauses, realizing how stupid that sounds, and then barrels on. "And who gives a fuck what other people--"
He cuts off as Lukas steps up, the man's breeding, poise, polite curiousity arresting the flow of vitriol. For a long, drawn out moment, Hector simply stares at the man, his mouth hanging slightly open, tears still running down his cheeks from his red eyes. Where Lukas is professional and courteous, Hector seems ungainly and rough; he's wearing about five plaid shirts, each thick and open at the front, a clashing nest of different colors and patterns.
Finally, he snaps his mouth closed and wipes the water from his eyes again. Eyeing Amunet uncertainly, he stares at Lukas over the windshield, and furrows his brow as he tries to answer the man's question.
"Yeah, but not so bad as this. Back in Minnesotta. I had a guy fix it up. Cost me three hundred bucks." He sounds defensive, angry, sullen almost. Coming from a guy that's easily pushing three hundred pounds, most of it muscle hidden beneath a thin sheath of fat, it sounds odd. Edward steps up soon after, and Hector's eyes narrow.
[Edward Bellamonte] "If you prefer tea," he says to Amunet, "I have one of those too. We can trade." This with a shrug, and a glance as Imogen's leaving catches the corner of his eye - there's a wave, whether or not she glances back to see it, and then his attention returns to those gathered.
[Kemp Oates] The shadows in a doorway seperated and there he was a half a dozen feet down from Imogen in the direction the Kin was heading. Old stained jacket looking like something had chewed on one shoulder were stuffing was coming out, looking kind of like dirty snow sitting on his shoulder. A stocking cap was pulled down tight on his head, leaving dark hair sticking out from beneath to pour over the collar of the old jacket. He stood with sneakered feet spread, hands in pockets and more skin showing through the knees and one thigh of his jeans than they seemed to cover on the front end. The back end of the jeans were another peek show on the right cheek where his boxers stuck out the hole.
[Amunet] It makes no diffrent.
::She gives him a half smile then looks away for a moment then back::
It is warm an appiated. Who gives me this kind offer?
::She asks a dark brow raising.::
[Lukas] The comment or pat on the ass makes Lukas' head snap around. Edward earns a brief, perhaps unexpectedly hard glance. He says nothing, though; continues on as he had.
By the time Edward joins him at the car, the incident appears forgotten. He makes room for his alpha thoughtlessly, shifting to the side so the Fang could have his own look. "Well, if it's been puffing blue smoke lately, it might've been burning engine oil too. And once that runs dry, the engine can burn itself up. Anyway, I'm sure the guys at Midas can figure it out."
Truth is, Lukas' car knowledge is rudimentary at best. If anyone has even a whit of experience fixing cars, it'd soon become apparent that his guesses were just that -- wild, barely logical shots in the dark. He straightens up from under the hood, sipping his coffee through the no-spill lid. The woman's departure draws his attention for a moment. The corners of his mouth turn up, and he nudges Edward. Quietly: "Fail."
Though it's Edward that offered to call, Lukas is the one to actually do it, stepping back a little and turning away to put his cell phone to his ear. They can hear him 411ing, and then repeating "CHICAGO, ILLINOIS." and "TOW." "AUTO TOWING." several times, with increasing impatience, into the autoprompter.
[Imogen Slaughter] Kemp can see her gait hitch as he literally steps from the shadows, though she's not so unmannered as to scream or even stop entirely.
She continues until the distance is closed, slowly slightly near the Rotagar. Her eyes flick briefly - asexually - over him, taking in the rents and tears of his attire.
"Tea?" she offers him the take-away cup, slightly ironic.
[Kemp Oates] He wasn't as polite as some and his dislike of the offer showed on the screwing up of his features as if he just sucked on a lemon.
"Ewwww."
Just like a little kid it came out.
"Ya know it reminds me of piss water."
And then he seemed to remember his manners, sort of.
"Which ain't so bad if ya like piss water I guess. No thanks. I appreciate the offer, though I gotta wonder what's wrong with it if ya don't want it."
[Edward Bellamonte] "Edward Bellamonte, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss." This comes with a cheerful nod - the interaction with Imogen all but forgotten until Lukas comes with his comment; then there's a shrug.
"What would imply that I was attempting to succeed at something - but, eh. She's old, anyway." That comes with a grin that colors his young face; he's not bothered by her not being more friendly, however unaccustomed to such reactions to himself he may be. There'll be another chance, and if she persists in cool aloofness, well! There are likely better directions in which he could expend his energy.
[Imogen Slaughter] Eww.
"Mature," she observes.
As he talks about it reminding him of piss water, she turns away, walking a few feet to a trash receptacle and dropping it precisely inside. She turns back as he finished, smirking faintly at the opinion there must be something wrong with it.
"Nothing at all," she says, wryly.
A tilt of her head indicates the group several blocks away. "Know any of them?" she enquires.
[Amunet] Amunet.
::She says nodding to Edward.
The rest would give you a sore throat.
::It was hard to tell if she was jokeing or not. Her eyes went back to Lukas as he called, then smerked at their shared comments about the kin. Wasn't hard to figure out with 'boys'::
[Hector Burnell] "Hey now," he says, shooting looks from Amunet to Lukas. "Hey, I didn't say you could go making calls. It's my car."
He steps forward, graps the hood, and slams it down as if the crash would add authority to his words. Smoke billows out in a soft cushion in all directions.
"My car," he says again, staring at Amunet. Turning to Lucas and Edward, he steps forward, chin raised aggressively. "Go on and hang up. Ain't nobody towing it away without my say so."
His tone has grown ugly. Hard and raw edged, like torn metal.
[Kemp Oates] "Oh come on. If there's nothing wrong with it, how come ya threw it away?"
For a moment he wondered if she had spit in it before finding someone to offer the unwanted tea to. His head cocked as he considered the possibility and decided Imogen wouldn't do it, but fuck if he wouldn't have.
"Them?"
He looked over the tiny Kinswoman to the group down by the car with a little shrug.
"One of 'em I sort of met lastnight. Has manners and shit. Ya know?"
It hadn't gone over his head when Lukas had shared the sandwich with him.
"Think he's got something ta do with the Fangs. Is one, knows one. Related or something. Kept mentioning silver spoons."
[Hector Burnell] (Connection is killing me. Sorry bout delayed posts and all.)
to Amunet, Edward Bellamonte, Imogen Slaughter, Kemp Oates, Lukas
[Lukas] Lukas had turned a little ways away to make the call. Hector's advance makes him turn back to face the other, squared-on, instinctively. His eyebrows go up. There's a cool, assessing look in his eyes -- opaque to emotion for all their icy clarity of hue. A beat. Then, with no fuss at all, he clips the phone closed.
"All right. No problem." His tone is mild, perhaps deliberately. He looks over the car, parked roughly with its dying gasp, the rear bumper thrust out into traffic. "Want some help pushing it in at least so no one rearends it?"
[Amunet] ::Amunet just stands there looking cold a miserable sipping her sludge::
[Imogen Slaughter] "Same reason I offered it t'you," is her mild reply, stepping back toward him until they're back at polite speaking difference. "I didn't want it."
Though Kemp glances beyond her slight form toward the gathering, Imogen does not do the same. "Hm." It's little more than a sound of acknowledgement. She's quiet for the beat of several seconds, before smirking faintly. "Just checkin'."
[Imogen Slaughter] (err - polite speaking distance)
[Hector Burnell] Something has gotten into Hector, and Lukas' snapping of his phone shut in some perverse way seems to stoke the flames higher. As if his compliance had in some bizarre manner insinuated subordinance.
Hector squares his shoulders, seems to almost shrug them as if about to enter a boxing ring, and works his jaw from side to side, momentarily considering his response. Running them quickly through his mind. He shoots Amunet a glance, eyes suddenly widening, and for a moment he seems unsure, knocked off balance. But then he rounds on Lukas and Edward again, and his jaw squares.
He's large. Hector is a big man. Just shy of six foot, he makes up for it in breadth, with massive rounded shoulders, a bulk lacks all definition but compensates through mass and power. There's almost no neck to speak of, his and the six layers of clothing he's pulled on makes him seem even bigger.
"What." A chin raise again. "You ain't scared to get your fancy clothes messy?" He grins again, his expression made dangerous by the nervous way it disappears so quickly. "You willing to get muck on them pretty hands?"
[Edward Bellamonte] "Hey, let's all get along. Help offered is help offered, no?" That comes before Lukas' offer to help push the car out of oncoming traffic, to which Edward agrees. "You have two extra pairs of hands if you've need. Shouldn't take long, or be overly difficult."
He's not afraid of the hulking unknown, exactly - not particularly intimidated either, which likely says a lot about the pair in and of itself. And he doesn't back down, and of course there was the offered coffee and so forth; the pair are quite obviously friendly, or friendly-ish. Then there's the bit about fancy clothes, and Edward shrugs with a smirk.
"We've got more."
[Kemp Oates] "They are new in town. The guy from lastnight was with a chick and there was a couple of other chicks in the same place. Couple of them stuck out like, well like ya do in a dump. Meaning they were like a wart on the ass of a Goddess, didn't belong there. And they kind of acted like cats to each other. Ya know, the ole stare, pretend not to stare, then be obvious staring and pretend like they didn't give a fuck shit. The usual little rich girl shit."
He shrugged as he watched beyond Imogen then added casually.
"My money is on ole silver spoon collector."
Indicating the posture of the others with a lift of his chin towards the group.
[Lukas] Lukas is just about to open his mouth with something doubtlessly conciliatory, self-deprecatory, flame-un-fanning -- and then Edward gets his smirking little comment in first. And there's just no way to rescue that.
The Ahroun shifts, slightly. Redistributes his balance. Puts his hand, casually, on Ed's shoulder. Waits to see where the chips fall.
[Amunet] Here have some.
::She hands the coffee to Hector and pats his shoulder comportingly trying to stand between him and the others. She turns to them and looks them up and down::
They are fancy.
::She smerks.::
But nice. I appologize about our rudness we are tired and have been on the road a long time.
::Her voice was scencer and her eyes down cast for a moment then she looks up at them. And holds out her hands as if to say what can she do?::
[Avery Bainbridge] ooc: sooooooo. where all's everybody at?
[Hector Burnell] Hector turns his gaze onto Edward with the same nervous energy of a crackling forest fire, and then pauses as if struck by a thought. His brow creases, and he loses his antagonistic stance. Stepping back, he turns to stare at Amunet again, and then reaches up to rasp at the stubble of his jaw with one ham hock of a hand, eyeing each man with sudden wariness.
Then Amunet hands him the coffee and steps before him. Says her piece. Hector stares down at the coffee as if not knowing what to do with it, and then simply tosses it onto the pavement.
"I wasn't bein' rude," he grumbles loudly, staring over Amunet's shoulder at the pair. His brow is lowered over his small eyes, beetling, practically. "You two from around here? This your part of town?"
[Lukas] Briefly, Lukas' eyes flicker to Amunet. He makes a gracious gesture of his head. "Quite all right." His posture doesn't change.
(sorry. i'll wait for others to post now :D and -- most are in a clump around Hector's crapped-out car, looking rather tense. Imogen and Kemp are a ways up the street, within sight.)
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen glances briefly toward the group now, the tension clear among their body language. She turns back, arching an eyebrow. "I would ha' thought tribe was part and parcel o' standard introductions," she observes.
"Particularly fer silver fangs."
[Kemp Oates] "We was in a place that weren't so wise to do much in the way of formal shit, ya know? Lukas is what I got from him and Kemp is what he got from me. Hell, I probably learned more about him than he did about me. Though I suppose I could of made up some shit to fuck with his head, but since he done gave me half his samich, wasn't gonna fuck with his head. Ain't polite, ya know?"
He frowned slightly, watching and sighing.
"Don't look like it's gonna amount to much. And here I was thinking we could get some cookies and cocoa and watch."
[Edward Bellamonte] "We've been around," he says with a shrug, noncommittal. "We've met some people, done the things that one should when coming to a new place. Have you heard of (insert Meesh's kin's neutral place where everyone can go here) yet? I do believe I may have a card somewhere."
There's that grin again, boyish and sweet - for all his class-bred snobbery, Edward is a pretty genuinely nice guy. He'd be great in a poker game or something similar - always there with a joke, a story, something. Not likely to be dull company, he.
"Perhaps it's time for proper introductions, then," and now, his voice is quieter, more subtle. "I am Edward 'Bets on the Underdog' Bellamonte (rank here, cos he's not approved yet) Ragabash of the Silver Fangs."
[Amunet] ::Amunet takes the card carefully from his hand and whispers back carefully and quickly::
Amunet Harbringer-of-Shadows. Cliath Thruge of the Striders
::The card is tucked away quickly::
[Lukas] As Hector comes back to himself, Lukas' hand drops from Edward's shoulder. As the Fang introduces himself, Lukas is instantly grimacing around to see if any innocent-bystander types were within earshot. It's a fair bet that Lukas would never, ever introduce himself in the middle of a street on a Tuesday evening. Still -- the precedent has been set, and there are rules about this sort of thing.
"Lukas," this is pronounced with a -sch sound, "called Wyrmbreaker, Cliath Ahroun of the Shadow Lords. I'm Edward's beta."
[Kemp Oates] "Watcha got down there is a classic squaring off. Ya see how them two stick together?"
He indicated Lukas and Edward.
"And then the chick with the other dude? She standing in front of him like that either means she completely trusts him or she outranks him and knows he ain't gonna fuck her up the ass. It also tells me they are together. So ya got two teams a meeting, sorta. Yet keeping the lines of seperation."
[Hector Burnell] "So you ain't from around here," says Hector, and seems to visibly regain some confidence. He opens his mouth to say something more, but then snaps it closed as Amunet once again intercedes before he can get a word out. Suddenly, even while the car is smoking beside them, they're all playing at meet-n'-greet. Frowning once more, he leans forward to catch their names, works them over in his mind, and then hawks and spits on the road, right into the gutter.
"A Fang and a Lord?" he says this in a guttural whisper, stage whisper, clearly unclear as to how one speaks subtly. "You fuckin' kidding me? Offering to help me push my car? What, your mama's didn't teach you how to piss on the rest of us right?" This isn't even said in a provocative manner. He's simply that taken aback. Placing a hand on Amunet's shoulder, he seems about to move her aside before he realizes who she is, catches himself, and stops. Leaves his hand there, almost possessively, and stares at the pair once more.
[Lukas] Lukas laughs, a breath of humor. "After the French revolution, we reconsidered our approach." A nod at Amunet, "You're the Alpha?"
[Amunet] ::She looks at Lukas and smerks. She would have never done it if she hadn't known they were safe. But her eyes move past them and watch Imogen and Kemp. She's not stupid. She had felt them, even all the way down here. Her rage was low enough that anyone with higher rage screamed at her. And the breeding in Imogen screamed just as much as rage. Her eyes shift back to Lukas and shakes her head::
No I am the shamen.
[Imogen Slaughter] "Is that so," she says, glancing over her shoulder at the group, turning back to look at the Rotagar - a younger man than she by far - but an adult by all the standards he knows.
"How educational."
[Kemp Oates] "Oh gee, you're so welcome."
She made him roll his eyes as he exhaled a huge cloud of breath into the cold night air.
"Sometimes ya just ain't no fun at all."
Then his eyes narrowed on Imogen.
"Ain't ya freezing your ass off?"
[Edward Bellamonte] "If it suited, I might, but this seems hardly the time or place." It's hard to tell whether he means this or is joking - what is not difficult to tell is that he's already irritated with lacking manners and so forth. One would guess that this gentleman has had scads of classes in behavior required for various circumstances, and one would be correct. "However, what kind of ruler would one be if one left the subjects and serfs to misery and misfortune always? A rather quickly deposed one, I'd think. Do you want help moving your car or not?"
[Hector Burnell] "Hold up," says Hector, clearly losing patience with Amunet. He does move forward now, his progress ineluctable, shifting his packmate aside with a gentle but firm hand. He's standing in the gutter, not quite willing to step up onto the pavement and force the Lord and Fang back to give him room.
"Now just hold on," he says again, "We don't know these sumbitches from Adam. Far as we know, they could be lyin' to us." He's speaking to Amunet, directing his words over his heavy shoulder. "These two here could be Spirals. My old packmate always used to say fair is foul and foul taste like shit, or something."
He reaches up and wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve. "So excuse us all mighty and polite like if we don't go spilling our secrets right away."
[Amunet] ((hey guys I have to hit the sack))
[Lukas] (thanks for the RP! i guess either have amunet wander off or let hector npc ya)
[Amunet] ((Gunna have her wander))
[Amunet] Yes you get on that.
::She hands him something. It looked like a dilapidated frog. He'ed be fine. She'd been on the road for four years. She trusted her intuitions. Silently she started to wander off::
[Hector Burnell] ((Take it easy!))
[Imogen Slaughter] She's no fun at all. "I'm devastated." A smirk, barely a twitch at the corner of her mouth.
She shakes her head - she's not freezing her ass off. "S'cold, not frigid," she notes. "Besides," a lift of her chin indicates the rents in his clothing, "I ha' more on than you."
[Lukas] "Yeah." There's a trace of irony in this; a hint that his seemingly boundless patience is wearing thin at last. "We could be Spirals. But you have my word, on my honor, that we aren't. If that isn't sufficient for you, I'm disappointed. But if it is enough, the polite thing to do is to return an introduction for an introduction. We've told you our names, and I've told you Ed's the Alpha. Your shaman's told us her name. We're still hoping for the rest, but." He ends midsentence, on a shrug.
[Kemp Oates] "I got on as much as ya do. Just maybe..."
He lifted his arm as if he could smell through the grimy old coat.
"..don't smell as good."
His attention still locked mostly on the now trio down the way.
"I still have hopes for them."
[Imogen Slaughter] A faint smirk, "Right - that's the difference. The pleasant smell o' my attire."
She glances at her watch before looking over her shoulder, back at the trio. "Well," she says, stepping back and half turning to indicate the cafe a few blocks away with a lift of her chin, "The cafe there has cocoa and cookies. Yeh could buy some and get settled. Fer my part, I'm headed off."
A flick of her gaze back toward the Rotagar. "Ha' a good night."
[Lukas] (if you guys are staying around a bit longer, lukas wants to talk to ya. as soon as i extricate myself from the naming dance here. *LOL*)
to Evan McCollach, Kemp Oates
[Kemp Oates] "Heh, well I would say be careful. Take care and all that, but you'll just tell me to go fuck myself. Which..."
He wiggled his brows with a teasing smile.
"..I will be sure ta tell ya all about next time, if ya do."
[Kemp Oates] ((Yup, I been running back and forth from the computer between posts LOL! ))
to Evan McCollach, Lukas
[Imogen Slaughter] "I would never be so vulgar," she retorts, before turning and heading down the street.
[Imogen Slaughter] (thanks for the RP, folks!)
[Evan McCollach] Christmas shopping. Most people think about the joy of giving and great deals, chasing that perfect gift as you make your way from store to store. The true spirit of Christmas. Well that was for normal people at least. Normal people who had normal worries. His christmas shopping involved keeping his eyes open in the middle of a chilly street, looking for waht could possibly be some trouble. Shopping was not exactly one of Evan's fortes.
His eyes kept scan on the cold streets, looking for any sign of potential threats, potential wyrm doing. Because Chicago was starting to actually become somewhat boring.
[Evan McCollach] (Yeah I will be on for some time. Now if only the page would update for me.)
to , Lukas
[Evan McCollach] (Yeah I will be on for some time. Now if only the page would update for me.)
to Kemp Oates, Lukas
[Kemp Oates] His head turned, watching Imogen walk off before he shrugged and started towards the cafe not so distant from the trio and the dead car.
[Edward Bellamonte] "I'm beyond tired of the lack of manners, and there's someone with that woman from outside of the shop - perhaps he's more interesting at least if not," this with a glance towards Imogen and Kemp, "any better kept. Shall we, Lukas? The man could probably move three of these cars on his own, at once, without our help anyway."
[Hector Burnell] Amunet... simply walks away. Hector is clearly disconcerted by this development, half turning to watch her stride across the road and melt into the sparse crowd, managing to disappear quickly despite the lack of pedestrians.
Hector turns back around, suddenly alone, and takes a single step back, squinting one eye as he looks from Edward to Lukas. "Well, if you were a Spiral," he begins, speaking ponderously, a smile growing on his face as he works his answer out, "Your word would--"
Edward cuts him off, and Hector's face flushes, his 'clever' retort lost and ignored. He grinds his jaw, and then gives the still smoking engine (though the amount of smoke is much abated) an impatient stare.
"Yeah," he finally manages, turning to Edward. "My Theurge left 'cause she knew you guys were Gaian, so that's enough for me. Not your word." He shifts his weight. "Name's Hector Burnell, known as Meat Locker, Fianna Ahroun Cliath of the... Fianna." He pauses, scowls, continues. "And my Alpha is Oscar [insert name here] of the [insert pack name here]. You'll be seeing us around, I guarantee."
He takes stock once more, follows Edward's gaze towards Kemp, and then sniffs again. "But run on, then. Knew you were to high and proper to get your hands dirty."
[Lukas] Edward's abruptly tired of it all. Lukas can't say he blames him. He follows his glance -- notes Kemp. Meets Edward's eyes for a tick.
"Oh, that's Kemp." There's nothing, no inflection on the words, that gives it any weight at all. "Anyway, I'll catch up."
And after the other departs, he stays for the introduction, nodding once at its conclusion. "Thanks. Good to meet you." He tucks his gloves into his coat pocket, starts unbuttoning the heavy overcoat. This could be done as a one-up, as a form of passive aggression, but Lukas is as casual and nonabrasive about it as one might have come to expect. "I'll stay and help, if you want." -- a question implicit there: a touch of uncertainty. Clearly, he still remembers Hector's reaction to his earlier attempt at assistance.
[Evan McCollach] He rubbed his hands together, breathing into them without much worry. A couple of people here and there walking through the streets, bundled up against the assault of wind and chill. He really didn't mind the chill, in its own way it was a bit comforting. Something he was used to.
But it seemed that the night was starting to become a bit more interesting than he planned it to be. A familar face a bit up the street, a few people here and there. And then the trio by a smokey car. Now that wouldn't be out of the ordinary if it were anywhere else. But in Lake view, a little strange.
[Kemp Oates] He was headed in the direction of the cafe, which took him towards Edward who was headed his way and towards the car and Lukas and Hector. If anything, he probably looked like a bum. A very tall, lean bum with the holey jeans and jacket. Whatever stained the jacket, left darker splotches across the front like someone had loaded a super soaker with chocolate, or coffee and sprayed the once entire front. His gait was a long easy saunter and the pace didn't change when he realized he and Edward would end up either meeting or passing each other.
[Edward Bellamonte] Hector's response gets a Look but isn't dignified with an answer - there'd been offer that had hardly been acknowledged, let alone accepted, several minutes ago, after all - and then there's Lukas and his bit of information; to it, Edward gives a nod that says he understands and will keep what he knows in mind when dealing with such a figure in the local Sept. "Do enjoy your car moving endeavors," is all he says, and then he's on his way towards Kemp - all boyish charm and mischievous grin. He's average looking with winter-paled skin and brown hair, but still he has a certain draw about him, does this man who practically bleeds breeding. "Hi. My friend knows you, says an introduction wouldn't go amiss." There's a nod towards Lukas at the 'my friend' bit, of course. "I'm Edward," he says, a hand extended for a shake.
[Hector Burnell] The Lord begins to peel off his overcoat, and somehow, despite it all, retains his cool. Hector watches, brows raised, absently wiping his palms of the front of his chest. His mouth hangs open, and he stares at Lukas, silent until the Lord pauses and inquires politely as to his desires. Hector seems, almost literally, disarmed.
"Uh..." he says, and turns to stare at the car to cover his uncertainty, pretending to size it up, eyes darting back and forth, and then turns to Lukas again. "You for real?" Something is just not computing. A basic part of his world has ceased to make sense. He shakes his head once more as if trying to physically dislodge the block.
"No," he finally says. "No, you don't have to push nothing. I'm going to ditch it. Ain't mine, anyways. Stole it back in--" he stops, catching himself. "It's broke, broke real good and I ain't going to waste any more money on it. So fuck it."
He turns and gives the bumper a good kick, and then turns back to Lukas, face clearly expectant. Waiting to see what the Lord will do, and obviously completely unable to guess.
[Kemp Oates] What the fuck was it with these people and all the fucking touching shit. Here he was with another hand stuck out towards him and he had to put on a big ole ass munching smile like he really liked this shit.
"So you are the Ed. The super nice guy, Edward. The Bellamonte Edward. Heh. Yup, met your boy lastnight."
He gritted his teeth in that smile that was making his jaw hurt as he extended a dirty nailed calloused hand to wrap his fingers around Edward's extended hand which he proceeded to give a few good pumps before releasing it. His hands were a working man's hands, the nails chopped off short and square. Even though he'd turned 20 the end of September, right now he felt a hundred years old next to this guy.
[Edward Bellamonte] Edward is a couple years older than Kemp, not that anyone would be able to tell - the Silver Fang's hands are smooth but not quite soft, and he manages to keep his grimace at the appearance of Kemp's hand under control, if barely. "You know, some people say a handshake is the cornerstone of polite society," he says idly, with no apparent point. "Much can be told in such a simple gesture." Then there's a shrug, and a wide grin - boyish, pleasant, and there's no further offer of contact. "I need some cocoa or something myself. Do you play cards?"
A non sequitor, that, but disarmingly friendly - one hardly expects such from Edward's sort. And if he's trying at all, it doesn't show unless one knows him well.
[Lukas] Unexpectedly, Lukas grins: the charisma there is considerable after all -- just frequently hidden beneath the dour, the serious, the careful.
"Alright. Well." He rebuttons the two buttons that he undid. "I'm staying at the ..." what does one call it, anyway? Speakeasy? Microbrewery? Bakery? "... you know, the kin place." He makes a general gesture in the direction of departed Amunet. "She has the address. I'm sure I'll run into you and your crew there."
It has the sound of a goodbye, and indeed, Lukas is moving away. He pauses, though, as something occurs to him.
"By the way." He nods at the car. "Might want to take the plates off, just in case."
[Kemp Oates] He was tall and lean, well over six five and thank Gaia he seemed to have stopped growing. And his smile was all teeth and a charm that he knew how to put on if only to disarm others.
"Ya know, some people say ya learn more from a good ass sniffing, but what the fuck do I know? Now, I could use a warm drink, but what's cards got to do with it?"
Yep, he felt a hundred and fifty years old as he sized up this Edward, trying to figure out what the big deal was. Lukas had been almost like some kind of religious fantatic when he mentioned Ed.
Just about then Evan caught Kemp's attention and for a split second his green gaze flickered in the direction of the other before it was firmly back on Edward.
[Hector Burnell] Hector doesn't reply. He simply watches Lukas go, his open, unguarded expression of surprise and confusion slowly clouding over with suspicion as the Lord walks away. He stands still for a moment longer, shifting his weight from side to side, and then punches a large fist into the other hand several times. He mutters quietly to himself, turns to look at the car, and then goes round to the trunk from which he retrieves a duffel bag and backpack. A moment longer as he stares after Lukas and at the conversing pair that he's approaching, and then he simply jogs across the street, forgetting the Lord's advice, striding almost right into a car before gaining the far side.
Just before he takes the corner he turns one more time to stare at Lucas. His expression now has darkened into a scowl. He watches the man for a beat, maybe two, and then shakes his head before disappearing from view.
[Lukas] (thanks for the play, man!)
to Hector Burnell
[Hector Burnell] ((*waves and runs*))
[Edward Bellamonte] "Cards can be a lovely diversion, and again, a good way to get to know a person - but more importantly, I always have my eyes out for a good game. Also, I tend to think the ass sniffings are more reserved to . . . other shapes." And yes - it likely would be difficult to put a finger on why Lukas follows Edward with such fervor - he seems a nice enough fellow, but there's little apparent to inspire such devotion.
The flick of Kemp's eyes doesn't go unnoticed, though Edward remains relaxed, calm and in a good humor - whatever's behind him, he doesn't seem to particularly care. "If you play, perhaps something could be arranged. Blackjack, poker, I don't much mind what."
[Kemp Oates] "Well ya know, they say cards are a fool's game. And I might be a fool, but I'm a fuckin broke fool that ain't got money to piss away. Mine goes to the future, not chance. Though I appreciate the offer, I done think ya already learned something with this game over the cards."
He smiled big and wide like the wolf he was.
[Kemp Oates] (( LOL! We lost Evan. ))
to , Lukas
[Kemp Oates] (( LOL! We lost Evan. ))
to Edward Bellamonte, Lukas
[Edward Bellamonte] "Oh, I didn't say anything about playing for money - I'd win, and to be honest . . . well, you look as you say, as if you haven't any to take." This comes with a smirk, amused. "I just like to play cards. It's a good way to keep a number of skills sharp, really - so if you change your mind, keep me in mind."
One would likely be inclined to think that Edward is too nice, really.
"But all that aside - shall we, then? Cocoa and pastry seems like a good way to warm up on a cold evening."
[Kemp Oates] He barked laughter in a big ole white cloud into the cold air. Rocking back on his heels as he roared laughter.
"Modest, ain'tcha? You'd win! Fuckme, I ain't had a laugh like this since lastnight."
At this rate, these guys were going to make him bust a gut. Had he ever been this young?
"Tell ya what."
He was fighting to get his mirth under control before he started crying.
"Before ya make me cry from laughing and freeze my damned eyelids open so I got no choice but to stare at ya in sheer wonder, I'll letcha buy me that cocoa and one of them fancy pastry thingies."
[Lukas] Kemp and Edward have not quite made it back into the cafe when Lukas returns from the curb -- Hector's big old dump of a car abandoned where it is. He's tugging his gloves back on, nodding to Edward and Kemp as he joins them in front of the cafe.
"Hey." The sun has long since set, and the night is dropping below freezing. Lukas' breath comes out in a white plume. "When you two have gotten your drinks and pastries, do you want to go somewhere a little more secluded to talk? Make the proper introductions, and all?"
[Evan McCollach] He started to approach the pair after a few more moments of just scanning the last few people on the street. The night was drawing on and the good little boys and girls were starting to go off to bed. With that cleared in his mind, he headed towards the cafe he saw Kemp at. Maybe try and be a little social once in a while. It wouldn't kill him.
He watched as Kemp seemed to converse with two of the three from the broken down car, now left. And most likely soon to be towed to the impound lot.
[Kemp Oates] "Fuck, let's do it. Good ta see ya again Lukas. Though I think there's another player in this little game of kiss and tell that might need to jump in while the gettin's good."
With that he curled his tongue between his teeth and let out a sharp whistle and lifted his hand to flick his fingers in a come to me gesture at Evan.
"That there is Evan."
[Edward Bellamonte] "Modesty has its place, of course, but at a certain point it just becomes a lie. I'm good at cards," he says with a shrug, that grin still playing on his lips. "As for the cocoa and pastry, I was going to offer anyway. More coffee, Lukas? And how about your friend, Kemp?" This last with a nod behind him, in the general direction that the Rotagar's glance had gone. And then, "Going somewhere to talk sounds like a plan to me."
And yes, he's buying cocoas and coffees as people want, as well as an assortment of pastries to share - it never does to go places empty handed, after all, and as snobby as Edward may be in his own way, there are rules from which one simply doesn't deviate.
[Kemp Oates] "He's a...what is that fancy word...co-worker, that's works for me. And up to him, though I am sure he got the invite."
He was speaking of Evan when he said co-worker.
"Though, that there is another tale, cause he's there but not there. Part but not. Boy is that a story for someone with better storytelling skills than I got."
His head turned to watch Evan, calling out again.
"I'm freezing my balls off here. If ya don't want to pick them up and warm them, get a move on!"
[Evan McCollach] The whistle drew his attention, if he wasn't already on his way towards them. The fiery red hair left uncovered to the brutal weather that winter brought down on Chicago. His body covered up in that long black mariner's coat. The only thing he really needed to fight off the excessive chill. And as he walked up to the trio he nodded to Kemp. It had been a long time since he seen the ragabash, really a long time since he was seen anyone except his packmates and his own mate.
"Good evening."
His eyes look over to the other two, something about him seems to trigger something in the base of their spines. Something akin to Edward, something akin and yet strangely unique. Then eyes back to Kemp.
[Lukas] "I'm fine, thanks. I was going to suggest the [INSERT NAME OF SPEAKEASY HERE]. Thought I'd go ahead and grab a bite there instead."
(once we're done here, i suggest we locate to the caern room and put that we're in the speakeasy in our tags. evan, don't worry, the speakeasy is not in the bawn itself, so it's neutral lands)
[Kemp Oates] "Evan...Edward...Edward...Evan. Evan...Lukas....Lukas...Evan. There, we are all on first name bases. Now, let's move it before someone asks about that hunk of junk. And that's a good idea Lukas, let's move it."
(Works for me, let's do it, I am getting towards the hit the sack point.)
[Edward Bellamonte] "In which case, pastries can wait - they're better there anyway, comes back over Edward's shoulder, though he does emerge with a pair of cocoas - he'd had his tea, and will wait for further until they get where they're going.
((I'm down, let's go!))
[Lukas] (OK, since we don't have final details from maddie yet we're gonna have to wing it a little!)
Whether they arrive by car or foot, separately or together, eventually the four reconvene in the back rooms of the speakeasy over pizza and wings. And beer. Whatever Edward's feelings toward such plebeian fare, Lukas seems to like it well enough. It's warm in here, and the Shadow Lord has doffed his coat and his sweater, loosened the collar of his button-down shirt and rolled the sleeves up out of the way of the potentially messy food.
"Well," after they've all had a chance to dig in and dull the edge of their hunger, "I suppose I'll go first. I'm Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Cliath Ahroun of the Shadow Lords, beta of the Unbroken Circle [name may yet change]."
[Kemp Oates] He too had shed his coat once inside. No need to roll up his sleeves since he wore a faded black tee that had a darker spot in the shape of the now missing pocket on the breast. Major hat hair was going on where he'd taken off the stocking hat, but he didn't seem to care. The holes in his jeans were more obvious as was the leaness of his body as it tapered from wide shoulders to narrow hips and long legs.
"Good ta meetcha again, Lukas. I'm Kemp Oates. Known to the Nation as Truth in Frenzy. Fostern of the Fenrir. Born on the new moon."
[Edward Bellamonte] Edward went to college - he likes pizza. He also likes beer, though he does insist upon the best there is to be had, and Lukas to this day has only ever once seen Edward drink more than one or two drinks at a time - only once has he seen his Alpha less than sober, and that once had lasted about a week, and Edward hardly remembers it, he'd been so trashed.
Anyway.
"And I am Edward 'Bets on the Underdog' Bellamonte, (rank goes here) Ragabash of the Silver Fangs," Some part of him wants to list out his long and illustrious pedigree, but he (just barely manages) keeps it to a simple, "First born, only son and heir of the Bellamonte clan, originally hailing from France." There's a flickerflash of a glance Lukas' way, an eyebrow raised; it's not questioning, but more a glance of 'hah, look! I can do as the simple folk do!' More or less, at any rate. He'd only been wearing a suit jacket to begin with, but now that's laid neatly over the back of his chair - the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up as well.
"Alpha of the Unbroken Circle."
[Evan McCollach] He shed his coat once inside the Speakeasy. It was not within the territory of the bawn so he was still within the ban that was placed upon the Eagles. However it was a lot closer than he had been in a long, long time. The bawn was a living territory that was up to change when the sept decieded so. He didn't want to take a chance.
"I am Evan "Jugdement of Sterling Silver" McCollach. Fostern Philodox of the Children of Gaia. One of Eagles Chosen."
And with that announcement, whatever seemingly tingle they might have had, the mystical purity of his breeding seemingly dissapating. The McCollach were a decent and proud Silver Fang family, something he was not.
[Kemp Oates] He kept eating, just waiting for reaction with Evan's introduction. Pretty sure if these guys had been poking around the Caern, they'd heard rumors of the Eagles, himself and so much shit. Though he was betting no one was loose lipped about the time his former pack had gone pulled the Grand Elder's ass out of a situation the fucker had never thanked them for. That was one of many things that still stuck in his craw.
[Lukas] Surely Lukas has noticed the Fang breeding in the redheaded young man. If the tribe comes as a surprise, he stomachs it well, merely knocking back his beer and then raising it in a wry salute.
"Cheers. It's a pleasure to meet you both.
"I was telling Kemp about our reasons for coming to Chicago," this is ostensibly spoken to Edward, though after a brief glance at his alpha, he directs his attention to the 'locals' instead, primarily to Evan who hadn't heard this before. Wry, "I think I might have come off a little high-handed and head-in-clouds, but the sentiment behind it stands. A caern raised out of nothing is nothing to sneeze at. Still, there's always room for growth and betterment. I think Kemp-rhya said it himself, anything's possible. If you guys can raise a caern, then maybe if we work together, we can make this place something real special. So," the Ahroun shrugs, a self-deprecating gesture, "we came to pitch in."
He pauses to take another swig of beer. There's a stereotype that Ahrouns are short-tempered and tonguetied, but Lukas is at ease in such a situation -- calm, relaxed, patient. There's a natural sort of vibe between he and his Alpha: an unspoken concord. When one speaks, the other is quiet; where one is lighthearted and charming, the other is steady and quiet.
"Anyway. I spent some time with the Guardians. Asked them about the state of the Sept. Seems like most of the Sept offices have been deserted. They told me you were the Wyrmfoe, Truth in Frenzy, and the name of the Grand Elder. Other than that, it seems the Sept's gutted.
"We'll step up where we're needed, of course. But frankly, it'd be the worst kind of rudeness for us to just barge in and take over, and we'd rather see the locals rally to take the positions in their own Sept before we fill in the blanks. I mean -- " a glance at Edward, as though to confirm, "I think the last thing we want to do is disrespect those who were here before us. So, that's what we wanted to talk about tonight -- whether the two of you wanted to step up to fill some of those empty Sept positions, or knew of anyone who can."
[Kemp Oates] (( Ya know, I think we need a list of those positions and what NPCs are filling them, cause it's been so long, I have no idea anymore. LOL! ))
to Edward Bellamonte, Evan McCollach, Lukas
[Edward Bellamonte] ((Right there with ya, Blu - I haven't the foggiest.))
to Evan McCollach, Kemp Oates, Lukas
[Evan McCollach] (Yeah I don't remember who was what anymore. )
to Edward Bellamonte, Kemp Oates, Lukas
[Lukas] (*LOL* as far as i know, the council of elders got disbanded, so all that remains are the classic positions:
grand elder - balance without fault
warder - evens the odds
guardians - buncha npcs
wyrmfoe - kemp
major positions that should really be filled:
gatekeeper - open (probably performed by evens the odds)
ritemaster - open
master of challenge - open
keeper of the land - open
minor positions that can be doubled-up if necessary:
caller of the wyld - open
master of the howl - open
talesinger - open
truthcatcher - open)
to Edward Bellamonte, Evan McCollach, Kemp Oates
[Kemp Oates] "Ain't no secret the blood runs thin here lately. One of the best lingers on the outskirts. Change came and our numbers have thinned to the point of the Caern being filled with specters more than flesh and blood. Which we have been fortunate so far in that the other sides ain't figured it out. While brains and wit can help fill in where muscle is lacking, it's only a matter of time before our numbers are tested again and we just might not be enough to push 'em back. I for one am glad for the sudden influx of numbers. And I ain't so stupid that I don't realize there will be a lot of head butting and bullshit pain in the ass shit to deal with cause I done seen it so many times in the past. I also know there's better moons suited to the slot I'm filling in for. So, as you can see, I've an open mind."
He looked them over as he wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans and rose to retrieve his coat from the back of his chair.
"But it don't mean I won't challenge any bullshit that comes callin."
He winked as he pulled the old ratty coat on.
"I'd like to take this up again. I'm sure Evan here will be happy to spread word to his Alpha, but I ain't so sure what that reaction is going to be. What with that seperation, it kind of leaves Evan here in a touchy place as far as filling positions, which I'm sure he would love to elaborate on."
Sure he could use big words when he felt like it. And right now, he was leaving Evan in a position that just gave him the best internal laugh he could have.
"I gotta get my ass on the way. Thanks for the eats and we'll meet up again soon."
[Edward Bellamonte] "Thank you, Kemp." Edward's hands are wiped clean and he stands - not offering a shake this time, as he'd seen the reaction before. Still, there is that show of respect - he's heard of what Kemp's been a part of, after all, even if he is little better than a bum. "I look forward to meeting again." And then, when it's appropriate (after the Get has exited), the Ragabash sits back down, his eyes on Evan - he's intrigued, if nothing else, about the past drama. It doesn't hurt to know these things, after all.
[Evan McCollach]
[Evan McCollach] The news of the Sept being gutted and lacking any real support seemed to come as a bit of a surprise to him, maybe it was even noticed. He left a glance over to Kemp who seemed to have been keeping to himself. Then again the way that Decker and he parted it wasn't uncommon. The info of the gutting and lack of support that the Sept had would soon be transferred across the link he shared with the rest of the Eagles. But after that nothing more on the subject unless someone chimed in.
As for the thought of him holding any positions within the Sept, that almost drew some sort of reaction from him. But he held it back. They didn't know what had happened between the Eagles and the Sept. Nor would he tell the story, it was not of his moon. But of course that was not such an easy task. Kemp was making his way out and just like the smart-ass trickster, Kemp threw him under the bus. How did he not see this one coming?
"Thank you Kemp. I am sure I will be seeing you around soon."
No threat, just assurance. More to the fact that the Caern was left mostly unguarded and even if they were banned from the Bawn, it was still apart of the laws to come to aid of any hollowed place and keep it clean of wyrm should the need be.
"I am sure the guardians are well versed in the story between the Eagles and the Sept. If memory serves me correctly, the wardens have a tale spinner among their ranks. I am ill-suited for such a tale."
[Lukas] "I'll be around. Here or in the caern." Likewise, Lukas tosses his slice of pizza down and stands to see Kemp out.
(just wanted to toss that out so blu can sleep. now gonna reply to the rest *LOL*)
[Evan McCollach] (Night Blu, enjoy the comforts of the soft wonderland of dreams)
to Lukas
[Evan McCollach] (Night Blu, enjoy the comforts of the soft wonderland of dreams)
[Kemp Oates] "Heh, never thank the Devil till ya get your soul safe in Heaven by at least a year's lead."
He canted his head in a very regal manner dispite his shabby appearance. When you lived in a storage shed and gave your funds to a child's wellfare, there wasn't much left for luxuries. After the cant of the head, the hat was tugged on and he was headed for the exit. He waved calling over his shoulder.
"Just tell 'em Evan, don't be a chicken shit and leave it to me, cause I ain't so good at polishing shit up to make it all shiny."
And he was gone with a chuckle. Damn sometimes life was good.
[Kemp Oates] (( Night guys and thanks! I enjoyed having play! And now must sleep before I die. ))
to a wicked brick, Edward Bellamonte, Evan McCollach, Lukas, peeky share
[Edward Bellamonte] ((Night, Blu!))
to a wicked brick, Evan McCollach, Kemp Oates, Lukas, peeky share
[Evan McCollach] The Eagle's link seems to trigger while he was in conversation with the trio.
"Decker it seems that the Sept has had a lack of support of late. From what I have learned, only the Grand Elder, the guardians and Kemp are all that is left of the old Sept. Seems some new faces are coming in, from what I see a handful, maybe a little more. Not much in the way of a lot of experience."
to Lukas
[Lukas] (ouch. computer crashed randomly *grr* WHY DOES IT DO THIS, WHY!)
[peeky share] (its not random. Its heavily planned.)
[Evan McCollach] (Yes the evil randomness of share)
[peeky share] (*Wicked!!*)
[Lukas] After, Lukas reseats himself and takes a big bite of his pizza, then wipes his hands on a napkin. He's chewing when conversation resumes, and he shakes his head -- contradicting something or other, though he says nothing until he's washed his food down with a gulp of beer.
"I heard something about your pack and the Grand Elder's not being on the best of terms. I didn't pry. Frankly," and he sits back, wadding the napkin up into a ball and tossing it back on the table, "we aren't the type to care about personal issues and the like. The fact remains that the Sept is short on manpower and it could use a good Philodox. One who's been around this particular block. You should ask your Alpha. Master of Challenge or Truthcatcher -- they're both traditionally positions held by Philodoxes, for starters."
[peeky share] (way to put him on the spot! *LOL*)
to Lukas
[Edward Bellamonte] "Not a bad idea, really - perhaps your pack could be persuaded to rejoin the sept. There are benefits to such all around," he says with a shrug; he's not overly effusive as that hardly seems the best way to go with this particular fellow, but there's something about him that says he could be in some other circumstance. He practically bleeds optimism, somewhere behind all that friendly charm and the open smile. "It's worth a thought, if nothing else."
[Evan McCollach] (Did you get Evan's totem phone to Decker?)
to Lukas
[Lukas] (yeah man. we'll probably need a scene between 'em to figure something out, and i have to ask mei about the exact terms of the eagles' departure from the sept and all. i'm gonna leave decker out of the sept cuz i think he'd crush the game with his adren-ness, but i think for the sake of the game i'ma have him be open to evan going to lend a hand)
to Evan McCollach
[peeky share] (night!@ gonna go sleep!)
[Evan McCollach] "I assure you that Eagle's strength will still be within Chicago as long as any one of us still breath. You will see our territory quite easily. It is located within the Cabrini-green area. And you will see it in the Umbral. The area is easily marked off."
He watched the pair of them.
"I was once the Truthcatcher, I know of the position and what is asked of its charge. But how about you two. It is incredibly rare to see a pack of two. It has been done before, but uncommon to say the least. How many others of your own have come to this city?"
[Lukas] (damn, i just talked to mei and she shot down the idea of just one eagle returning to the sept *LOL* okay, we definitely need a scene. are you around tmrw?)
to Evan McCollach
[Evan McCollach] (I will be after 6pm EST)
to Lukas
[Lukas] i'll be around later, like around 9pm est. if you see me on as lukas just grab me, i can multitask.
to Evan McCollach
[Lukas] (shit, are you waiting on me?)
[Edward Bellamonte] (Haha, yes, it's your post.)
[Lukas] (sorry, i thought ed would field that one!)
The Shadow Lord grins suddenly. It doesn't light up his face, but it comes close: surprisingly charismatic, easy. "There's seven of us." He ticks it off on his fingers, "Ed, me, Katherine and Katerina, Sampson, Dylan, and [mindy'schar]. All auspices represented, but the order's too confusing to sort out right now. You'll meet us all soon enough, I daresay."
[Edward Bellamonte] "We're a decent bunch, if I do say so myself." Edward can't help grinning when Lukas does - his is warm, [relatively] open and comes often, but his packmate's is a far rarer thing, and goodness knows Edward enjoys seeing it, regardless of the cause. "We're all staying here for now, at least, so we're not terribly difficult to find. Something will work out, as Lukas says."
((Heading towards [past, really] pumpkin time for me, guys.))
[Lukas] (same here actually! i think we're heading toward a scene close though.)
[Evan McCollach] "Seven. That is a large pack. May I dare ask where you have all come from? Which Sept did you call home before?"
This was just a small conversation, just to learn who these new faces were. Especially since these were going to be the most likely spine of the Sept that was right next store. It was important to know who your new neighbors were afterall.
[Evan McCollach] (Wow its starting to get late. I am going to need to crash soon)
[Edward Bellamonte] "Katherine and I are from (insert place here and OMG GET ON JACQUIS ASS TO GIVE KENNA AND ME THE BELLAMONTE INFO), I met Lukas in Boston, Sampson's from Kenya, Dylan's from (insert place here), Armstrong's from Boston, Katarina's from (That Place, There). We met at various times and hit it off, worked well together, and here we are." That with a shrug, then a grin. "If you want the real story, you'll have to ask Dyl. She's better at these things than I."
[Lukas] (she's on right now, says my AIM!)
[Evan McCollach] He started to get up, getting himself ready to depart from the new pair of Gaians that had come to save Chicago from the ravages of what will be an all out wyrm assualt once they learn of the weakened state of the Sept. But hopefully that was still some time off. The Eagles would need to plan out what they would have to do.
"Well a very diverse companionship you all seem to have. Hopefully I shall run into your packmate Dlyan to get a stronger understanding of the fellow Gaian's that call Chicago home."
Yes he made sure to say Chicago and not the Sept home. The Sept had not been his home in a long time.
"However I must return to my patrols. The Wyrm does not rest and neither can we."
[Lukas] "Goodnight, Evan." As with Kemp, Lukas stands -- offers his hand, though, not in a handshake but in a brief clasp of the forearm.
(thanks for the scene, all!)
[Lukas] (yo man, can you get on AIM just for a sec?)
to Evan McCollach
[Edward Bellamonte] "Goodnight," he says, also standing - and he, too, offers a hand, but for a shake. "It was a pleasure, and I look forward to finding out what your pack has to say."
((Yeah, thanks! Yay for new chars!))
[Evan McCollach] (I should be on now)
to Lukas
[Lukas] (just pinged you, didja see it?)
to Evan McCollach
celebration.
9 years ago