[Maija] 123 not me!
[Wendy Berber] *It was a pool hall like any other. Golf and hunting games just off the door, red and green billard tables on either side of the sturdy wood panelled bar/snack counter. The recession had hit this place on the outskirts of La Familia Territory hard. What once had been lavish was now bare bones, and there were faded areas on the wall paper where more arcade machines had once been, the tables were scuffed and in disrepair, and ID no longer mattered nearly so much as money spent on a round of pool, and watered down whiskey. A lone man sits perched on a tall barstool, eating onion rings with his hand wrapped round a beer, a trio of fratboys hollered at each other around a table in the far left, and Wendy Berber looked distinctly out of place. Skinny legs crossed, talking to the man behind the bar and tapping spindly fingers at the hard cover of an old book with enthusiasm.*
No no. Um.. If you want a definitive book that will tell you where modern magic as well as Wicca originate, then this is the um... the one um, you probably want.. the one by Sutton is um.. mostly allegorical.
[Lukas] This isn't Lukas's sort of joint. Left to himself, the Shadow Lord, who once caroused through New York City and Boston with the likes of Edward Bellamonte, playboy extraordinaire, would find himself some nice swanky lounge bar or trance club to unwind in.
However, it wasn't his idea to come here. It was his companion's: a young man, though not so young as he was four years ago when he came to Chicago. Nondescript, slight, a little stoopshouldered, with sandy brown hair, he seems like he might've wandered out of some IT company's cubicle hell. His fingers fidget with the napkin in front of him, and his sweating beer mug is barely touched.
His eyes are direct and unflinching, though. They stay on Wyrmbreaker as the two converse in low tones.
Neither Maija nor Wendy, nor anyone else in this joint, would recognize the fellow as the Grand Elder's packmate -- Webrunner, Theurge of the Glass Walkers. He's not there for very long; twenty minutes tops. When he gets up to go, Lukas stands with him. They shake hands like humans do, but the way Lukas puts his hand out palm-up bespeaks respect.
Webrunner leaves, zipping up his fleece jacket against the autumn chill. Lukas, left to himself, sits back down at this table. The Shadow Lord looks tired, a little careworn. He takes his phone out and, laying it flat on the table, taps out a brief SMS. Sends it.
[Maija] Her last trip to a pool hall had not worked out so well. As such she's completely avoided Lucy's since, but it's Friday Night, and Big Bob seems determined that she have a night off, and a social life. He can control the first - the second? Not so much. But since they're also neighbors, and he was watching her door, she ventured out of his range of influence to another seedy pool hall.
This one is just like so many others, and she's in the farthest out of the way of corner pool table. Her hoodie, is tucked over the back of a chair, leaving her in threadbare jeans and a tank top. She's thin, painfully so, and it's made all the clearer when she leans over the table to take another shot.
She pauses, first, having heard the family voice - Wendy's at the bar. She keeps watch, and when the gangly girl turns to look around, Maija offers a slight wave. Then she resumes doing her best to get the balls into the pockets - with reasonable success.
[Wendy Berber] *The bartender/pool jockey/occult hoobyist has little more to say. Wendy's never led him astray so far, and its not as though the twiggy beanpole looked up to a debate. Wendy assures him he'll enjoy it, and turns to make for the door. A blink as she sees Maija and offers the ghost of a smile, slowing and veering her course to the billiards table. Surely if she knew both a Shadowloard and an Elder glasswalker lurked at a nearby table, she'd be on her way out the door regardless. *
Oh.. um.. Hi Maija!
[Maija] If she knew there was a Shadowlord in the corner, she might be right behind Wendy - though she has met him in passing, he was packed with the female version of his tribe that while paying her bills for a while, made her incredibly uncomfortable too. It has a lot to do with her past - and very few of her present know any details of it.
She prefers to keep it that way.
But Wendy, Wendy she knows, and they bonded over something entirely different. "Hey Wendy. What brings ya out here?"
[Lukas] (go around me for a while, guys. sorry about the slowness)
[Wendy Berber] *"What brings ya out here?" The pencil legged kin casts a glance over her shoulder, and seeing the rather dour barkeep preoccupied with the same dismal onion eating dunk as before, she gives a tiny grin. Her shoulders are hunched, looking down at Maija and adjusting her glasses, before speaking quietly.*
"The Triumph of the Moon - A History of Modern Pagan Witchcraft"... by Ronald Hutton. The um, owner of this hall, Mr. Nelson is a, um, a blossoming occult enthusiast. ... I was delivering a book for him.
What about you?
[Boy] These places, these barely hanging on places, these surviving one way or another places, were just part of the reason they'd chosen this area. One of the reasons. The fact that a seventeen year old Boy with enough hardship in his hands and shoulders and enough crazy in his eyes could just stroll on in was a major plus as well.
Its just that kind of Boy that walks in tonight, doing so with the familiarity of someone who's been here a dozen times. This was their territory, after all. The outskirts, maybe, but those were the places they watched closely. He knew the place, from the bartender to the regular drunks lined up and leaning at the bar. He didn't know the frat Boy's in the corner. They had different faces every time they came around. And he didn't know...
He was wearing work boots tonight. Construction boots to go with the dirt under his nails and the slight smell of un-mixed cement in his clothes. Those boots stop near Wyrmbreaker's table long enough for him to level an intense stare, as if he were looking at some exotic animal.
And he's off again, shaking his head and muttering to himself as he moves to find his mate.
[Maija] She glances over at the barkeep in question, and then back up to Wendy. A slight nod, before she leans over the table and takes another shot, the 9ball hitting the corner pocket with a clack. She studies the table, as she answers the question.
"Th'last pool hall I was at dissolved into a brawl. Thought I'd try this one instead. M'boss thinks I need a social life or some shit." It's said with a flicker of a grin, though it fades away fast enough it' may be missed.
[Lukas] (okay, back and posting!)
[Wendy Berber] *Wendy looks at the pol table as though studying an exceptionally complicated algebraic equation. Never great at pool, somehow the angles and force never matched up the way they figured they should.*
OH! .. Um.. Well.. I'll be social.. if you want? *She fiddles with her glasses once more, shy as she does so. Movement at her periphery draws her eye, kin a little paranoid these days. But what she sees has her face cracking into a full goofy smile. Awkward girl besotted.*
Boy! Over here!
[Lukas] When Lukas finishes his text message, he looks around the bar. He recognizes Wendy; every time he looks at her, some part of his mind thinks of daddy longleg spiders, storks, something long-legged and slightly ungainly. He recognizes Maija too, more faintly, chiefly from the night Evan brought Danicka back to the Brotherhood. He considers saying hi to them; he wonders if they'll be disturbed by his presence. He wonders if he wants to socialize at all.
Then Boy's come in. And he stops beside Lukas's table. And he stares.
Lukas looks back at him. His expression is mild enough. His eyes are not. They blaze like diamonds; like the heart of stars. And when the Philodox moves on, Lukas speaks.
Quietly. But flatly.
"Would you care to explain that look to me?"
[Maija] She chuckles, softly, and tips a head toward the line of pool cue's hanging. "Course. Ya can play if ya want - I'll re-rack 'em." She pauses by her table to grab her drink there, lifting it to her lips to take a swallow. Wendy call over Boy, and Maija can't help but smile a little at the obvious happiness in the gangly one's eyes.
"That ya boy?" like it's not completely obvious.
[Boy] His attention shifts over to the waving, calling kin and he's already shifted direction toward her.
But then...Lukas speaks. Boy's boot-steps pause once again, and there's a flash of...something...on his face before he turns on his heels and heads back to Lukas's table, sitting when he got there, invitation or no.
"I'm just wonderin, Rhya, what it is your doin' here." All the other times anyone's heard him talk its been in mostly calm, occasionally formal contexts. They've heard the peacekeeper talk in the way that he was taught peacekeepers aught to. Only a few have heard the slight drawl he shares with his sister. the way they butcher the beginnings and endings of certain words. And when Marrick speaks, its usually out of some righteous frustration. Was that what was happening to Boy now? Was that why he sounded so differently, despite him leveling the hot glare at the edge of the table in front of Lukas?
"Seems you been showin' an awful lot of interest in us lately. 'Cept you aint come to me 'bout any of it."
[Wendy Berber] Oh. yes.. thats Boy. I'm his.
*She nods, as if to confirm it, turnring from Maija with a blush and missing the showdown between her mate and Lukas, as she instead contemplates her own showdown with pool.* ... I'm uh, not reallyl good at pool. But I'll try it?
*The kin that shares a figure with the cues hanging on the wall moves to select one, considering things scientifically. Failing that, she just picks out a medium length stick and calls it good.*
So.. a brawl huh? You're ok though? ..No one got um, got hurt?
[Maija] She glances at Boy again, and then the look lingers half a second more. Tension twists through her shoulders, and she forces her attention back to Wendy, who's blushing. She's Boy's.
Then it's back to pool and brawling. "I ain't so good either, just takes practice. An' luck." she goes about racking up all the balls again, so that they can start a new game. "Those what got hurt got helped. I ain't got a scratch on me. Can't say th'same for the guy I smacked with a pool cue..."
That grin is a little lopsided, amused, though it slides away just as quickly as all her expressions do.
[Lukas] Wyrmbreaker is not the proud, solemn beast he was at the moot; nor the savagely victorious creature wading from the lake three nights ago. The Ahroun looks a little worn, and worse for it. He looks tired, pale under his swarthy complexion, smudges under his eyes.
And he looks impatient. On a shorter fuse than usual.
"I was here on Webrunner-yuf's request," he replies, simply, "and it had nothing to do with your pack. I asked to speak to you at the moot. You never came to me. Why didn't you?"
[Boy] He leans back in his seat now, temper down from glowing embers smoldering.
"Busy." He says simply, and his fisted hands unfurl ever so slightly. "Dietrich was a good packmate. Strong. I had to fill up the holes he left behind. Tend my house. My turf."
[Wendy Berber] just like in the moves. Did it break?
*The glasswalker kin rubs at her neck, scratching in irritation at a scar that likely hadn't been there last time Maija'd seen her. But then, life among garou often resulted in a good many scars for its kinfolk. At least this one wasn't from friendly fire. Her eyes drift back towards her mate and she squints, frowning a little. She recognizes Lukas vaguelly, and the frown worsens. The two males didn't look happy with one another.* ...well. um. Hmmf.
[Doodle] (Locations?)
to Boy, Danicka, Lukas, Maija, Wendy Berber
[Maija] She nods, slightly. "Yeah, it did. I paid th'owner what I had on me t'replace it."
She gets the balls properly racked and situated, lifts the triangle and spins it in her hands, tucking it away again. She puts the cue ball in place, and nods for Wendy. "g'on n break."
She moves to the nearby table and drink, lifting the latter to her lips, as she glances at Boy and Lukas again. Just keeping tabs.
[Maija] (Wendy and Maija at the far pool table. Lukas and Boy across the room at a table. You're jus' walkin in. The cricket is being someone's conscious at the bar, trying to entice him to return home to his crying wife..)
to Boy, cricket, Danicka, Doodle, Lukas, Wendy Berber
[Wendy Berber] ((failing billards room. Maija /wendy on right playin pool. Boy Lukas on right staring angrily. Bar with a drunken onion ring eating man and the dour tender in the middle. Bathrooms behind on either side of bar. gold/hunting games at the door))
[Lukas] "Dietrich," Lukas replies -- not angrily but bluntly, flatly, "was also an idiot who couldn't keep his mouth shut about his tribe's dirty laundry. And an Alpha who failed so utterly he ended up another pack's Omega. If filling his shoes took so much of your effort that you couldn't find time to talk to me about your 'house', your 'turf', then you can add one more reason to the list I gave your sister."
A beat.
"I am assuming, given your demeanor, that she's told you what I asked her to."
[Doodle] The Door swings open, a silhouette on the inside-
-And swings back closed again as the silhouette ducks back out and to one side, suddenly, peeking over the rim of the window pane that extends the entirety of the pool halls front, making his stealthy peering at the man by the door, somewhat...less then ninja. His fingers curl slightly on the edge of that pane, his mouth and nose hidden behind it's thick metal length, eyes peeking out over top at the man who hasn't moved an inch since his brief incursion into the place.
The invite had been a minor thing left behind on the couch and he'd come with the intention of finding out some details, but at this rate...well...
The eyes dart back and forth in the window, squinting to get a better look, only for his breath to begin fogging up the view, forcing him to scrub one fingerless wool glove over the pane to clear it away again and start the entire little procedure over.
[Wendy Berber] *Wendy quirks her lips, dragging her gaze away from her mate reluctantly. The triangle of balls is considered, and she bends to line up her cue.*
Ok.. I'm not very good at this..
*CLICK! The balls.. well, they move. jostle out of position. roll away lazily leaving a general clump in the middle.*
Oh.. um.. *She blinks, then pulls at her sweater with a shy shrug of shoulders.*
You play this often? I think I've played about ... 5 times?
[Maija] "Jus' takes practice. Ain't always how hard ya hit it, but where ya do."
She moves around the table, picks her shot, and finishes up the break that Wendy started - pulling it just enough so that she doesn't drop a ball into a pocket. She steps back, and lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "A bit. When I was on th'ru.. road.. pook halls was a good place t'make a couple bucks when I needed it."
She doesn't say how - letting it be assumed it was with pool.
[Maija] (Yes. Pook Halls. They're all the rage for runaways. POOL.)
[Doodle] He huffs another breath as his eyes trickle over to the pool table, spying a familiar and reedy shape. A glimmer of joy erupts on his features followed closely by another wary glance at the bulky doorman. Then he pulls back from the window and musters his back up onto his shoulder, the grey winter coat dangling nearly to his knees, fastened together, hood pulled up and tucked around his unruly hair and jaw set and pushed forward slightly; coupled with the furrow of a youthful brow and the slight hunch he pushes into his shoulders, one might think it is designed to make him seem older. Or tougher. Or both. Or maybe just obtuse.
Nevertheless, he shakes out his limbs, hitches his bag up another time and puts a march in his step that is at once a vague swagger and an attempt at military efficiency. The door pulls open infront of him and he turns and throws a chin-up nod of confidence to the bulky doorman, sauntering on by with nothing short of a '
"Sup!" At his lips. Followed by both lips tucking between his jaws and an unstoppable wince claimin' his features as he bee-lines his faltering swagger toward Wendy and the Pool Table.
[Doodle] (Bag not back^)
[Callie] *Callie is on her way home when she spots a familiar figure heading into a pool hall. Maybe not so much familiar as recognised, but it's early days yet. It takes time to build up the connections that make a pack. At a loose end now, having made enough on the streets of the City to warrant going home early, she finds herself wandering in after Doodle on the chance that it will be an opportunity to grab a drink and a chat and get to know the other 'prospective' a bit better.*
[Boy] "What Dietrich did with his tribe was his own business. He made that clear from the start. Some people listen and learn, others gotta feel. But in this pack, he was a resource. And I'll ask you kindly not to speak a bad word about who I pack with."
Here he took a breath, deep and slow, and exhaled in the same manner. One could almost feel the heat coming off him, the quaking Rage just under his skin.
"Yeah, she mentioned."
[Wendy Berber] *Wendy leans and tries to sink some solid yellow bar, squinting and sticking out her tongue in concentration. It bounces off a side pocket and careens with a bounce back toward her, kin flinching and squeaking in surprise. She doesn't notice Doodle at the window, but Wendy certaintly notices him swaggering in, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving a shy wave to the theurge.*
Hey. Heya Doodle. .. Um.. have you ever met Maija?
[Callie] *Once she's past the doors, with her ever-so-useful smile and reassuring nod to the doormen, she can see Doodle at the pool table with . . Wendy, playing with someone she doesn't immediately recognise. Amused, not having pegged Wendy for any kind of hustler, she's about to make her way across when that prickle of something else going down alerts her and as she turns . . there's a definite space forming. People flow back, leaving a space . . .
And at the centre, with Rage flooding the thick atmosphere of the room around him, is Boy . . and Wyrmbreaker.*
[Danicka] This is most certainly Danicka Musil's sort of joint. Or rather, this is the sort of place where people know her as Dani and never learn her last name, the place where they would be shocked to see her in a skirt or driving the Infiniti. This is the sort of place where she doesn't shark at pool because she wants to keep coming here. This is the sort of place she doesn't tell other students from UC about... because she wants to keep coming here.
The fact that it's at the edge of the territory of a pack that is currently somewhat at odds with Lukas means nothing to her. Or, rather, means nothing to her because she simply doesn't know. Danicka lives right at the edge of Eagle territory and doesn't know that or know who the Eagles are, so it's hard to say if she'd care.
When Danicka comes into this pool hall she's still viciously, vividly alive from the use of a talen igniting her very skin with resilience. She is still exhausted even after roughly twelve hours of fitful, tearful sleep. She is dressed in bootcut jeans with a dark-stained leather belt keeping them snug on her hips. She has fitted button-down shirt on with slightly overwide cuffs and a sharply pointed collar, brown with thin vertical stripes of red and white here and there. There's a black choker on her throat. She has on a pair of cowboy boots.
She owns a pair of cowboy boots.
Actually, she owns several, but that's beside the point.
Danicka's hair is down in waves on her shoulders. She's taking off a plain tan trench as she walks in, doesn't have a bag with her tonight. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold; she took transit. Or she walked. She looks around, and, simply, the rage in the room slaps her on one cold cheek with an iron-hard hand. She breathes in, exhales, walks towards Wendy instead. She at least recognizes Wendy... if vaguely.
[Maija] Wendy squeaks, and Maija chuckles, briefly. "Ya got the strength for it - just need t'work on ya angles." Case in point, she leans over lines up her shot, and drops that same yellow ball in the side pocket. She then deliberately misses her next shot - or maybe it's because Wendy is inviting someone she doesn't know over. She doesn't explain, either way.
Though she does explain her shot... "Remember that when ya hit it, where ya hit the cueball counts - line up ya angles, but anticipate the bounce of the ball. If ya aimin' straight, all th'momentum goes forward. If yer gonna hitit off to the side, it's gonna bounce apart farther than ya think it will. Don't be afraid t'use the table too, an' bank it."
Yeah. More than she's said all night, probably - an' its likely an attempt to cover the fact that someone new is comin over and Maija? She ain't do new so well.
[Doodle] Wendy waves and a wash of relief creeps into his features, one hand already lifting to attempt to wave back-
"...IhaveID!" It's a harsh whisper, hand already displaying 'Mr. Kowalski's' Driver's license, the picture a vague, tossel-haired resemblance of a man a good fifteen years older then the boy beneath the hood. He holds it in front of himself like some shield of permission, as Callie steps into the Bar behind him. His face is a rictus of stretched lips in a down-turned smile (No, not a frown) and wide eyes of expected violence.
"...Oh..." When he spies Callie and no one else present, lips coming back to a sense of normalcy, the ID lowering slowly as he begins to back peddle, gestures of apology (waving hands doing Jedi Mind tricks, ["This is not the boy you're looking for"], head shaking and nervous titters of mirth escaping his wordlessly moving mouth) lighting his features.
...By the time he's reached the pool table, he's a wreck of shaking nerves and shakier breath, puffing cheeks out and leaning forward on the edge of the Table with eyes glued on the White Ball. He doesn't dare look back. Doesn't dare breath differently then he is. He sort of...sinks into a smaller ball against the pool table, trying to blend in with his surroundings as much as possible.
[Lukas] Lukas simply watches Boy for a moment, his eyes intense, studying the deliberate slow breaths, the rage sparking in the Philodox's eyes.
Then he leans back, his own gaze relenting a touch. "I'm not speaking poorly of those you pack and packed with to insult them, or you. Believe me, if I thought you could handle your pack and hold your territory, I wouldn't give a damn if you decided to pack with squirrels and chipmunks. But I don't think you can. Like I told your sister, I think your pack's in real danger of turning into a liability for us all. If you can prove me wrong, then all the better. If you can't, I will challenge you before the December moot.
"Now," Lukas has a calm, methodical way of speaking: laying the facts out one by one. "If you have something to say to me other than vague snarks and excuses, I'll listen. Otherwise, the next time I catch you glaring at me, I'll take it as a challenge."
[Callie] *That sense of the impending disaster has not faded. Callie does not cut an imposing figure right now, or ever really, faded and torn jeans grimy with sitting on concrete steps and curbs, huge baggy charcoal grey hoody with a rip down one sleeve and a cluster of tiny spark burns on the other, her hair hangs loose round her face, and only the rings glint with light in her ears, nose and eyebrow. With a deep breath, she drifts across the room to stand at the edge of the circle of emptiness as it widens around Boy and Lukas . . watching*
[Wendy Berber] Oh. Ok.. So I jus -Mr. Kowalski? *Wendy is distracted at the moment to say the least, blinking owlishly at the picture, as though she might inspect it even over the distance. She doesn't get a chance for a closeup before Doodle's startled and apologizing, which startles Wendy in turn, leaving her to watch him in confusion as he stares at the pool table. *
...Doodle? Um.. hey now? uh..
*What does one do in this situation. WEll.. Doodle was kinda like a little brother. Granted one that could maybe turn into some gigantic killing nightmare.... The kin compromises and pats the gnawer's shoulder, hand falling muffled on his puffy coat.*
Hey?
*She looks to Maija and gives an apologetic cringe/shrug combination.*
[Maija] She blinks.
She doesn't do new, easy, and she has her own nerves and wariness to contend with, and she's been known to cringe away, to carefully build a wall, a mask to hide behind. Doodle isn't hiding - and seems a worse bundle of nerves than anything she's ever seen.
She glances up at Wendy, a brow arching slightly as if to ask if he's True or not... a beat.
"Doodle... ya draw or sumpin?" That's Maija making an effort - and it's for Wendy's sake - not his.
[Doodle] "I think we're good..."
He puffs his cheeks out one last time, gulping in a lungful of air a moment later before turning to regard Wendy with wide eyes and a nod, nervous tick of a smile creeping across his features at her patting gesture. He looks down at his boots, scuffing the toes together briefly before turning to move to a nearby side table, behind some of the support struts in the bar and deeper into the lightless areas where the seedy makes it's home. He slaps the army bag on the table and pulls out a chair, clambering into it, hood still up and lips slightly pursed.
Wendy is looking at someone and so Doodle is looking at someone too. Maija gets a long faced glance and an oddly distant stare, eyes narrowing into a squint after a few solid moments. His face freezes like that as one hand creeps up beside his hooded head and wiggles fingers at her experimentally. When Maija pipes in with something, it takes him a few solid moments to work past his current confusion and into what she's sai-
"Draw! Yea'!" It's an excited sound that transforms his face almost instantly-...and then another second later, hands clapping over his mouth and eyes darting around the pool table incase anyone might have been disturbed by such-
"..Yes I-" Freezing again. His eyes find Danicka upon approach, jaw hanging slightly open as his hands come away. Unabashed or maybe only capable of one courtesy/etiquette strategy at a time. "Uhhhh..."
[Boy] And there's another rasping breath, another hot wave of Rage, and this time his it plays out on his face in a rolling snarl, but with tight lips that refuse to show teeth.
"What is it exactly you're expectin for proof, Rhya? You want us to string up the carcasses of the dead at our Borders? We're not Eagle's Chosen. Our glory goes to our Sept. You want us to bring you skulls and signs of conquest? You want our names to cover the pole? That may work for a pack of full moons, but that aint us either. That aint me. And as long as I'm leadin' this pack, we're not gonna be goin down that road."
Here Boy leans forward, eyes still respectfully low and hands unclenched but fixed tight on the edge of the table. His voice is quiet, but his tone is the same.
"I'm responsible for balance...for myself, for my packmates, and for my pack. So we'll count our own success in the things we build. Not just what we break down. The breeding dens of the wyrm we found when we got here are gone. The paths that people were afraid to walk on are safe again. Ask the Eagles when was the last time they fought something from their northern border. When have they ever had to cross into our land for something we couldn't handle. Ask our neighbors what it is they've seen that--"
He stops himself there, pulling back and dancing with those eyes of his. Eyes that dart and flit and twinkle.
"Oh." Boy says. "I wonder..." He follows up. But then, nothing more.
[Lukas] "What it is they've seen that what?"
[Boy] His eyes dance more, still twinkling against the dull table surface. It takes him a moment to realize Lukas has spoken, and when he does he simply looks up and says:
"What?"
[Doodle] (LoL)
[Callie] *She can feel the tension ratchet up another notch with Wyrmbreakers question. The door bangs behind a couple, and then another three folk who've decided to get out before tables start flying. Not that anyone's actually fighting but . . it's in the air. They can sense it. She glances across to Doodle, but he's really not paying much attention to anything apart from a girl with long blonde hair that cascades down her back.*
[Lukas] A flash of impatience that, on another night, the Shadow Lord would not have had. Or shown.
"You said, ask our neighbors what it is they've seen that -- , and stopped. That what?"
[Boy] "What is it they've seen that...makes them doubt."
He's distracted still, obviously. But distraction in an Uktena was a curious thing. That press of his Rage subsides in lessening throbs.
"Afterall, Wyrmbreaker~Rhya. They are so close."
That drawl is gone. That calm, calculated speech has returned. His eyes still wander dazzlingly.
"And you...are so far."
[Danicka] The shirt Danicka has on reveals a narrow V of pale flesh right to the point between demure and immodest. She's small breasted, of average height even in the slight heels of her boots, and there are debates in several states about whether or not she's 'pretty' or 'hot' or 'not my type' or 'oh god no', but there is something about her that's a draw. To Doodle, unlike Maija and Wendy, there's the fact that he can sense her tribe all over her.
Only she's different. Danicka does not bring to mind the smell of mountain winds and stark landscapes. Lowlands. Meadows. Vineyards. These are the images that get conjured, more than iron and stone. As she gets closer, she smells like... home. Warm hearth, a full belly, children sleeping nearby. It's not even a scent. She looks like an Ahroun that Doodle has not and will never meet. She looks like a Theurge from seven generations ago. She walks as though she is aware of every nook and cranny in this building, every shadow and secret in the minds of those around her.
Draw! Yea!
She blinks at Doodle when she comes over, then nods to Wendy. "Hey," she says simply, as Boy's voice wanders and Lukas's snaps behind her. Her shoulders are tense. Her murky green eyes are slightly drawn. She looks at Maija, glances at Doodle, looks back to the one she met once upon a time outside a department store. She nods at the table. "Can I play?"
[Wendy Berber] *They're getting a crowd. And worse, its a crowd full of angry people who aren't buying anthing. The bartender is scowling to himself. The onion man has disappeared into the bathroom, the Frat Boys have left, Rage is pulsing through the pool hall and Wendy is getting distinctly uncomfortable. Her eyes Flick to Danicka and she pales in memory. The SL kin asks if she can play, and Wendy does not see hearth and sleeping children. She sees white mazes and smiling faces and the too soothing comfort of organization and shared logic and a mid that * -
I HAVE TO GO!
*And the pool cue is clattering to the ground as she makes for the door, thin legs twitching out in front of her at a rapid pace..*
[Wendy Berber] [mid = mind]
[Maija] Draw - yeah! "Me too." said, offhandedly, for Doodle, though he's instantly distracted.
Then, Danicka asks if she can play. Maija starts to answer, to tell her she can play winner, when Wendy flips out and beelines it toward the door.
She just stares after her. She picks up the pool cue, and offers it to Danicka. "Yer stripes."
Deep breaths, Maija.
[Lukas] Now the Shadow Lord is frowning, puzzling over Boy's distraction, his odd affect. He draws a breath to reply on the topic at hand --
-- and releases it. A beat.
"What's the matter with you?" It's a genuine question. "Why are you so ... distant all of a sudden?"
[Danicka] It is not necessarily hard to surprise Danicka. It's hard to sneak up on her. It's easy to startle her. It's hard to show her something she's never seen before. It's almost unheard of for one to step outside of the bounds of what she's seen of human behavior. But Wendy suddenly starting and bolting makes Danicka's eyebrows quirk at odds with one another, makes her squint one slightly, makes her lips part in bewilderment. She watches the scrawny woman stork-run out of the establishment, blinks once, and clears her expression until it's as placid as a still lake.
She turns to Maija, takes the cue held out for her. "Thank you kindly," she says, without affecting an accent, surveying the table. "Whose shot?"
[Boy] "No, Rhya. You're the distant one. All the way over in the Brotherhood. In that territory that is no man's territory, and yet--"
Its not every day that a number 2 pencil with legs goes running past you. Its the kind of thing that gets your attention no matter what. Especially when that number 2 pencil is your mate.
"Wendy?" He calls out to her, but he might as well have been talking to the door. Without so much as an excuse me he's out of his seat, booted feet beating it after her.
[Doodle] Doodle is lost in all that bloodline and pretty for a few solid moments, eyes a little wider then they should be and the paleness of that suggestive neckline and head cranin' slightly as if searching for the best possible an-
I HAVE TO GO
And Doodle is startled more then most. He hops in his chair, blinking rapidly and watching Wendy go tearing out of the bar, already half-way from a sitting position, bag slinging over his shoulder with a reflexive twitch. His gaze remains on the doorway, swinging back to supine from Wendy's sudden exit, then turn to regard Maija and Danicka briefly before moving back to the door. A frown eclipses his features and he goes rooting around in his bag-
"I have to-" A pause. Rummaging further. "I should..." Pause, searching deeper in the bag. A few steps are taken toward Maija "I gotta...go...after...Uhhh..." He grumbles something under his breath, the vaguest flare of Rage pluming off of him, like the snippet of a hot breath in a cold room, before he looks up at Maija and nods emphatically...
...Slapping a number two pencil on the pool table for her.
"I gotta go see if Wendy's ok. Keep the scribble alive please." And then he moves around her and begins to make his way toward the door, eyes lifting to spy Boy for the first time, a slight dance coming to his step and emphatic pointing...well, dying as Lukas is taken in and Doodle shrinks again...and creeps now toward the doorway.
(Suddenly find myself dead tired and reminded of the few hours I got sleeping last night. Gonna hit the bed folks. Night!)
[Lukas] Instantly: "Sit down, Cliath. We're not finished here."
[Callie] *She's about to go after Wendy herself, but Doodle beats her to it . . so, there's Wendy already out the door, Doodle on his way after her, Boy legging it for the door himself and Wyrmbreaker ordering him no less, to stay put. She hesitates, mid-turn, waiting to see what Boy will do. With Marrick not here, if he goes, she'll go . . but if he stays, she stays too.*
[Maija] Who's shot is it... "Yers." She gestures at the table, absently and then...
then... well, things get weird. And he slaps the pencil down, and there's a flicker of rage and she takes a step back - almost visibly flinching. Then he tells her to keep the scribble alive, and she's left to simply stare after him.
It takes almost 30 seconds before she manages to shake herself free from the sight of the fleeing Familia. She reaches down, takes the pencil, and ticks it behind her ear, holding her hair back. "....ooookay."
Pool. Let's concentrate on pool.
[Boy] Its instinctual, the sudden brake that he makes mid-stride. His jaws clench tight in an instant, but then there's doodle in front of him. The hand on the young theurge's shoulder looks like a shove. Perhaps it was, peppered with the Rage in him. But Boy would call it emphatic encouragement. 'Go after her' it said without words.
Meanwhile Boy slowly stepped back to Lukas's table.
"You said, if I didn't have anything else to say..."
[Danicka] Keep the scribble alive please.
She ignores it. Danicka cannot cope with it right now. She doesn't even flick her eyes at Doodle as he heads out, taking a small sip of air and then a sharper, more sudden one when she hears Lukas snap at Boy. She has no inclination to follow Wendy, and absolutely no intention of turning around and looking at the altercation between her mate and the human pencil's mate.
Besides. It's her shot.
Danicka leans over the table and lines up, looking distracted. She is. She misses, looks vaguely disappointed, then steps back. "So what's your name?"
[Maija] Her hair has gotten long, and without the confines of that oversized hoodie hiding it, it falls freely over her shoulders down almost to her waist. All the better to hide behind. She studies the table, rather than what's going on with Boy and Lukas, her attention on what's before her. Including the Shadow Lord kin, mate to the one across the way confronting Boy.
She picks her shot, and lines it up, taking a slow breath and then crack sending a ball into the corner pocket. It almost looks easy - but she wasn't paying enough attention to leave herself a decent second shot, and misses.
She steps back, and then glances at Danicka. "Maija." mi-yah.
[Danicka] Unfortunately, or perhaps for the best, Danicka is no more aware that Wendy is mated to the teenager arguing with Lukas than Wendy -- or anyone, really, except for Lukas -- is aware that he finally went ahead and upped the quality of his previous claim on her. Danicka did not frequent the Brotherhood when Maija lived there briefly, has not heard her name spoken by Garou or Kin, does not know what she is.
She's vaguely surprised that Maija isn't running away, but doesn't mention it. She'd have to explain why. She'd have to say because there are monsters in here. And Maija looks like she'd break in half if someone were to break that news to her.
Her head tips to the side. "Nice," she says, and walks to the edge of the table again to sink the 12 in the side. She does it so quickly it seems thoughtless, takes more time on the next shot, staring across the table. 9 and 14 drop into a corner one after the other. And then she goes for 11 and only manages to bounce the cue ball off the side, rolling it gently against the 3.
Danicka frowns briefly, bemused, and then moves away.
"Danicka," she mispronounces, because it's not worth it.
[Maija] There are monsters in here - but Maija has quickly learned that in Chicago, there are monsters everywhere. Or they just seem to appear where she is, for the sole purpose of seeing if she'll break in half.
Looks can be deceiving, however. She doesn't break so easily. She runs, she endures, she has more scars than she should have survived at all, inside and out. She's a survivor. She does so just because folks don't think she should - or could. But Danicka doesn't know that, and Maija isn't one to share. Instead, they remark on pool shots, and trade names.
And Danicka is clearly a better pool player than Wendy. Maija puts her game face on, and drops three balls in quick succession. She misses the fourth - but it's a close call. "Damn."
She glances across the way, toward Boy and Lukas, before stopping by her table and taking a drink. She pulls the pencil from her hair, and tucks it into the 'roo pocket of her hoodie where it hangs on the back of the chair, then turns around to watch Danicka shoot again. "Yeh know Wendy, then?"
[Lukas] "That doesn't mean I have nothing to say." The chair across from Lukas jumps out suddenly: booted from under the table. The Ahroun's foot withdraws back to his side of the table, slow as a coiling viper.
"Sit."
Waiting, then. The silence goes on some time, critical, frowning. Then, "You seem convinced that I'm picking on you because I think you're some kind of weakling or coward. You seem convinced I scorn you because all I know is battle. I know there's more to the War than battle. I know even Garou so physically weak as our Ritesmistress have immense power and utility in other arenas. And if you were indeed strong in some other fashion, I would respect that.
"But here are the facts, Boy. All I have seen from you and yours is weakness. You packed under Black Unicorn. Whatever else he is, he is a totem of war. It's dishonorable and pathetic to try to sideline that obligation by lecturing me about the subtler arts. You're a pack of war. Whatever else you are, you must at least be competent at war.
"And you're not. You chose to claim territory when so many other packs chose to protect the Caern above all, but you cannot defend it by yourself. Twice now I've seen your pack pressed beyond its means in battle. Twice now I've seen others pitch in to save your asses.
"If you can't hold it, Uktena, don't claim it. And for god's sake, don't abandon your allies when they assist you in battle. You're packed under the promise that you would protect your allies. But when you cried for help that night in the alley, on your turf, when your pack-sister was bleeding and unconscious, Strikes with Valor and I responded. And you, out of selfishness or cowardice, grabbed your sister and fled, leaving us to finish what you couldn't.
"I'm not surprised your totem left you, Boy. I don't know why, but I do know it was not because you were too few to hold him. It was not because you ended your bond amicably. I do know what it is Black Unicorn hates. And I do know what I have seen with my eyes, distant or not."
Lukas's words are hard and heavy as stone. He lays them out one by one, patiently, his eyes level on Boy, his tone even. When he's finished, there's a beat of silence.
Then, "So you're mistaken. It wasn't inability at war alone that brought me to your door, Boy. It was all the rampant failure you've shown me these months -- to say nothing of what I've seen from your sister, and your errant brother. Pull your pack together, Brother of the Lost. Pull your own damn weight. Bring something useful to the table. Stop being weak. Stop failing. I won't challenge unless I must."
[Danicka] "I've met her a few times," Danicka says idly, as she bends over the edge of the table. The ball is nearly dead center, and she has to stretch a bit with the cue to strike it, has to angle carefully so she doesn't disturb any other balls. This time she just flat-out misses. "We know some of the same people."
[Maija] "Yeah. Me too." Somehow, the simple phrase gives the impression she means the latter, not the first. She and Wendy have known each other longer than a while, despite moving in distinctively different circles.
She lifts a hand, her fingers slender and pale, and rubs absently at the edge of her jaw, before she leans over to take her shot. She misses - but it's close. All told they're pretty evenly matched, though it's highly doubtful they honed their skills in the same places.
[Callie] *It's a distinctly uncomfortable place to stand, here on the edge of the Rage-created circle around the two arguing garou. Callie stays where she is, listening to the exchange. Listening to Wyrmbreaker berate and dismiss her prospective pack Alpha as weak, incompetent and a coward. But she doesn't move. Silent, not interrupting or distracting . . just there because you never know how these things will end.*
[Callie] ((ok, I have to go. For reference, Callie would stay put in case she's needed and leave whenever Boy does unless told to do otherwise))
to Boy, Danicka, Lukas, Maija
[Danicka] She doesn't look, even in jeans and a dark top and boots like these, like she belongs here. Even mortals can sense something different about Danicka's carriage, about the intensity of her eyes or the strangeness of her features. She is more likely to be assumed to be kind on sight. She is more likely to be assumed to be leadership material. She is more likely to be considered prettier, stronger, faster, better, and no human being would be able to tell anyone why they think so other than that she gives them a feeling.
Every werewolf in the room could answer that question.
It sets her apart, that heritage. It makes her more noticable, more likely to grab the attention of undesirables. Or monsters. It makes her, in that sense, the opposite of the very young woman playing pool with her. Maija could be said to fit in here. Danicka could fit in anywhere, even as striking as she is. She just isn't putting out the effort tonight, isn't trying to blend, isn't trying to pretend. It happens anyway. Assumptions could be made about where she learned to play pool as well as she does, whether she had a tutor in a private class at the club or if she just happened to have a table in the commons of her dorm. She isn't asking. She certainly doesn't correct.
"Like the kid talking to the dark-haired guy over there?"
She ends up taking three shots in a row on her next turn, effectively demolishing the stripes left on the table.
Danicka pulls back, examining the table. The solids left forlornly on the green, the glossy black 8-ball, the white cueball mottled with bits of blue from the chalk and places where it's been chipped and scratched.
Oh, puns.
"Corner," she says simply, and leans over again.
[Int + 'Melee' // +1 diff (unskilled), -1 diff (IT'S MATH)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 3, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
[Maija] Danicka doesn't fit in, where Maija does. As much as she could be said to fit in anywhere. She's too guarded, too careful, to wary, too tense. She doesn't relax much, and should that little powwow over there intensify, she'll be so tense that her shoulders will ache for hours later, her muscles coiled and taut and aching. The force of memory is a powerful thing. The tension of today built on the pain of yesterday, without hope of a better tomorrow.
She's broken. Somewhere deep inside, where it will take more than just time to repair.
But that' neither here nor there as dark eyes watch Danicka sweep the table clean of her balls, and drop the eight ball with neat precision. "Nice."
Danicka mentions the monsters over there, and Maija nods, sharply, once. Then. "Wendy's Boy..." a beat. "See ya with the other one. He yers?" She pays attention. She remembers.
[Boy] "So I should leave her there and have even more harm come to her? What danger were you in, huh? Lemme hear what you'd have done if it was one of yours lyin' there, bleedin out?"
Two fists, heavier than they look, slam down firmly at the table, giving a rattle that sends even the barman on edge. He may have thought the heavy rap of his baseball bat on the solid oak bar would have been enough to cut the tension. It wasn't. Instead, he had Boy's eyes leveling on him, weighing him down with Rage just barely held in check. The man balks, readies himself to say something vaguely threatening, and in that time Boy has attention back to the table, eyes squeezing shut as he breathes a slow, trembling breath, at least appears more calm.
"So. Far. Away. You can think whatever you want, Rhya. Its easy to point out the failures of someone when you see them struggling for whats theirs. Especially when you're so far away. Up in your free lodging, eating your free food. Easy to look the part of the ever capable warrior when you never actually take the risk. I'm not gonna jump ship because I've too many bumps these past months. You may feel like challenging four our turf come December, which, by the way, sees what's comin' to the sept before it even gets there. You may even win it. But I'd love to see how you think you can keep it from so...far...away."
And with that he slumped himself back in his seat, displeasure still plain on his face.
[Lukas] "I would not have abandoned the allies I was sworn to protect," Lukas snarls back, low, his teeth a white flash.
Then Boy's fists come down on the table. Lukas's rage reacts instantly, a white hot spike that sears ever higher as the Philodox speaks. Of all the things that Boy says then -- and he says a lot -- it's perhaps unexpectedly the words free lodging, free food that make him angriest.
So angry that he can feel his pulse beating behind his eyes. So angry that the hairs on his arms rise, as though to gathering electricity.
But just when a showdown seems inevitable ...
... Lukas leans back. Both Garou lean back, one slumping, the other slower, more controlled. As though both remembered where they were, how many mortals were there to see, and who else was about --
Danicka at the pool tables.
Wendy, so recently out the door.
-- they settle into an uneasy, bristling silence that calms by slow and forced degree.
"I think it's clear," Lukas says finally, low and level, "that we have nothing else to say to each other that will not result in blood."
[Boy] "Then you wont mind if I go see to my kin now" says Boy, even as his fingernails etch grooves into the lacquered edge of the table. Annoyed or not. Incensed or not, he was still a cliath, half moon to boot, and he was still addressing one of higher rank. He would wait to be excused this time.
[Lukas] Maybe it's his sapped will. Maybe it's his exhaustion. Maybe it's what he's been through in the last seventy-two hours... or the last weekend.
Lukas snaps, "She's your mate. If you can't respect her enough to not coddle her every time she whimpers, at least have the grace to call her what she is."
It's uncharacteristic of him; even petty. Afterward, his jaw clamps tight. He leans back and watches Boy go.
[Danicka] "Thank you."
It's politeness, though it sounds sincere, even if Danicka doesn't give Maija the eye contact to go along with real connection. She glances at the other woman, the game over and neither of them moving to re-rack the billiard balls. The 'boy' part of Maija's statement isn't a name, in Danicka's mind, but it passes unremarked. She could very well be called someone's girl, has been in the past, assumes that's what Maija means.
She tips her head to the side slightly, her brow furrowed a bit. "You've seen me with him?" She sounds more bewildered than anything else, like Maija might be mistaken.
[Lukas] (go on w/o me, i wanna see this response *dies*)
[Maija] Maija isn't one for eye contact on a good day. Not until she has gotten to know someone, really well, and often times - not even then. Eye contact is something of a trust issue, allowing someone to really connect. And she does not trust easily, if at all.
She doesn't answer at first, taking the time to drain her soda by half. She sets the glass on the table, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She glances at the table where Lukas is and then grabs the triangle to start re-racking once again.
"Yeah. I used t'live at the Brotherhood. Came downstairs one night - he was in th'kitchen. Ya'd been hurt or some shit, some red-headed dude delivered yeh." A skinny shoulder lifts in a shrug. She's not surprised to go unnoticed - she's very well used to making sure she stays that way on a normal basis.
[Danicka] One light eyebrow flicks upward as Maija speaks, settles back down. There are slight dark circles under Danicka's eyes still. All the sleep in the world this afternoon wouldn't have gotten rid of them. She issues a small, thoughtful hmm at that, and steps to the wall to put the stick back in its rack.
"So that would make you one of them, or one like me?"
[Lukas] Over in the back of the establishment, Lukas and Boy seem to have concluded their discussion. Boy leaves, or goes to another table, or -- whatever it is he might do. Lukas counts out money to cover his tab, then gets up.
There's no doubletake when he sees Danicka. It's not an accident, either. He looks at her like he knows she's there, and like he'd seen her walk in. Both of which, of course, is exactly the case.
And he comes over. They're racking up to play another game. Lukas doesn't grab a cue and join in; he pulls up a barstool instead, sitting.
"Hey," he greets Danicka, quietly. It brings to mind a wolf whuffing at his mate. Then he looks at Maija, curiously. "Haven't seen you for a while. You moved out of the Brotherhood, didn't you?"
[Maija] One of them or one like her. She snorts, and the roll of balls against the table in the rack as she settles them into place is with a decided smack. She lifts the triangle, lets it spin between her hands and moves to put it back on its hook on the wall.
Though there's very little about her that could be considered like Danicka. She's too put together, to nicely dressed, too... well. And Maija is not. "I'm jus' a street rat. No more, no less, an while I got anger issues, it ain't nuthin like th'likes a them." Lips curl into a brief smirk, as she chalks up her cue.
And then Lukas is there, and the tension wrapping around her spine is almost visible, the set of her shoulders straighten, and her gaze is very firmly resting on the balls on the table - except for a glance up at him. "Yeah. Gotta new job - was too far t'commute."
And too much rage to handle in one place for someone clearly on edge with just him this close, on a night with a darkened moon.
[Danicka] Another snort, a smirk, and that instant tension rippling through Maija when Lukas comes over. Danicka listens to her, but doesn't have anything to say to that.
One cue goes away. Maija sets the table up for other players, players to come, maybe herself, but at least one woman has put away her cue and is certainly not preparing to break. Danicka greets Lukas quietly, wordlessly, turning her head over her shoulder when he says Hey and simply meeting his eyes for a moment, longer than a second, longer than two seconds, before looking away again, looking at the self-proclaimed 'street rat'.
She doesn't say anything, now. Maybe because of the Garou near them, now, his Rage filling the space around them and the argument with the teenager not so far behind him. Maija's seen them together before, once: Danicka in bloody clothes and pale from trauma, Lukas restraining a barely-leashed temper. It's no wonder she goes silent when he comes over.
[Lukas] "Oh yeah?" Lukas, seeing that the game is breaking up rather than restarting, doesn't sit after all. He leaves the floor open for new challengers to step up. "What do you do now?"
Danicka is not the only one who looks tired tonight. Lukas's rage is at a low simmer, but his patience is paradoxically short. There's a certain restlessness about him, though for what it's worth he seems genuinely interested in the answer. When he spoke to Boy earlier, he was uncharacteristically sharp -- though then again, that may have been as much the situation as his mood.
[Maija] Her fingers tighten around the cue, pale fingers whitening farther with the pressure, before she forcibly relaxes them. "Wait tables." It's not the most glamorous of jobs, for sure but someone has to do it. "M'boss is m'landlord too. Got a killer deal on a lil rat trap."
She's resourceful, have to give her that. She glances up to almost meet his gaze, before she finds a safer place to place dark eyes, like the table, the cue, something, anything. "Ain't much, but..." she stops. She doesn't have to justify it. It is what it is. ...and then she continues anyway. "...s'only till I kin get back t'school."
[Danicka] She notices little things: like Maija's hand tightening on the cue, and the tension that won't leave her. Danicka watches, silent as Lukas questions Maija about her new job, and for a moment her eyebrows tug together, then relax again. She looks at Lukas, and when she finally speaks, it's rather quiet:
"I'm still pretty wiped out. I think I'm going to head back home."
A flick of her eyes at Maija, obviously uneasy around him, around any Garou, probably, and then back to Lukas. "Will you walk me to the station?"
[Lukas] That Maija is kin to the Bone Gnawers may as well be emblazoned upon her forehead. No other tribe's kin would cringe quite so obviously; few other tribes' kin are so downtrodden, so oppressed.
The kin of the Shadow Lords, for all that -- or rather, because -- their Garou are domineering, so brutal, are one of the few other tribes that meet that criterion. However, Shadow Lord kin don't cringe the same way. They don't do it where outsiders can see them, where prying minds can take notice, and tut and tsk, and gossip, and spread slander about their Garou.
Just look at Danicka. Standard Shadow Lord kin, that, for all that her blood reminds one of hearth and home, of lowlands, of spring. Beautiful, ornamental, silent when a Garou stands in the picture, submissive, docile.
So goes the party line, anyway.
Lukas glances at her when she speaks. Then it's back to Maija. "Good luck with that," he says. "If you need help, I think the fellow that was in here earlier -- one of Boy's new recruits? -- is one of yours.
"We're going to take off. Hope to see you around the Brotherhood, Maija."
[Maija] What he doesn't realize, is that it's not just because he is Garou. It is not just she is Gnawer, downtrodden, oppressed. It was not her tribe which did this to her, at least, not alone. It was his. He doesn't realize this, because she would never say it, not to him - not to anyone. And likely never to one that 'is one of hers'.
"I'll keep that in mind. G'night." She takes a breath, and nods, slightly, and moves back to the pool table. If her fingers shake a little when she grabs the cue ball, it's fast enough that it might escape notice. Regardless, her poise with the cue is confident, and sure.
There's a resounding crack followed by the clatter of balls as they separate and fall.
[Lukas] (thanks for the scene!)
[Danicka] [wtf jerk i'm POSTING here]
[Maija] (thanks ya'll! Night! :) )
[Danicka] [GAWD]
[Maija] (....waits patiently.)
[Lukas] (*LOL* *waits*)
[Danicka] The way she tells him that she's wiped out is almost apologetic. The way she tells him she wants to go home is hesitatnt, as though she expects him to tell her that no, she's not going to head home, she's thinking wrong. The way she asks him to walk her to the station is nearly a verbal flinch, a preparation to be told no, or worse, punished for asking a favor. For showing weakness, for showing need.
It's dark, and this isn't the best part of the area. And she's alone.
Lukas, however, doesn't act like he's earned this fear from Danicka. He was sharp with Boy, to be sure, but he's been cordial to Maija, almost boyishly inquisitive. He's been very nearly affectionate with Danicka, who has barely looked at or spoken to him and now seems concerned that he's going to break her in half. One of them must be pretending. Both of them are Shadow Lords. It's hard to gauge which one would be naturally better at deception.
She turns to Maija and gives a small nod to the younger woman before going to get her trench coat on again, her head down and her hair in her face. She looked more confident when she was playing pool, sinking ball after ball... before Lukas walked over. She doesn't lift her head as she leaves the establishment with the tall, dark-haired one who all but owns her, exhales a sigh when she's out in the night air again.
Her head comes up. She nods down the street towards the station. "Z&+367;staneš se mnou tentokrát?"
[Danicka] [YAAAY]
[Maija] (Alright - G'night:take two! )
[Danicka] [Night! Thank you for the RP, Lessa!]
[Maija] (ditto! *dashes*)
[Lukas] It's cool outside now, and it rains often in this season. Lukas's coat is checked at the door, but Danicka kept her with her. He lifts it now, holds it while she slips into it.
They don't speak to each other beyond her inquiry; he didn't even say yes to her, per se. Both of them are pretending, one to a greater degree than the other. They've never discussed why they do this, why they've never thought of stopping. Lukas, at least, would say that it has more to do with privacy, with what they have that is theirs and theirs alone, than any fear of perceived weakness.
Tonight he sat across from a bristling, angry, raging Garou. The Alpha of the pack whose land this particular pool club sits on the peripheries of. The Alpha of the pack whose members were nearly in full attendance at one point tonight. The Alpha, justifiably upset, of the pack that Lukas has spoken of swallowing whole into his own.
He sat across from this Garou, his rage depleted, his will sapped, still bruised from battle and blasted from the ordeal -- and methodically, deliberately, he verbally flayed the other. The thought of potential retaliation occurred to him. The fear of it did not. Perceived weakness is not something that worries Lukas overmuch.
Now he's shrugging into his own coat, which is fine wool, cut at mid-thigh. He wears a silk sweater over an undershirt, jeans. His clothing is tending toward dark colors again, blacks and blues and greys and browns, the occasional burgundy red, hunter green. Winter approaches; the season in which they met again.
Out on the street, a light mist is beginning to fall. He looks at her as she speaks the language she spoke to him the first time they met, falling in beside her as he walks her to the train.
"Ano," he replies, simply. And as they turn the corner from the bar, he reaches out for her hand, folds it in his, and tucks both their hands into his coat pocket for warmth.
celebration.
11 years ago