fons van der noot.

[some notes: Dec moot -- challenge between Fons and Lukas. Resolution in forums.
Dec 23 (backdated) -- Fons brought before council on accusation of lying. Forums.]

[Fons Van Der Noot] (Are you okay today?)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Genevre de Provence] Her favourite Coffee Shop, just a couple of blocks from her apartment. She was currently sitting in the back, away from all the others, a now cold cup of Sumantra sitting on the table as she was going over legal papers for work. She had let her hair to relax, and had her head braced on her hand as she was reading.

On the other hand, the message she had sent to her cousin a week ago had yet to be met. But she waited, each night she waited here. So she would see.

[Fons Van Der Noot] He had better issues to deal with, better matters to think of, more important matters that he would do before he met with his cousin once more.

Like counting all the cracks in the streets of Chicago for one.

However she would not let up, she would not stop messaging him. And begrudgingly he would met her at her favorite coffee shop. There was something she said that had to go to or came from King Calvin and he would not ignore that.

His glare was not something one would want to see, the mundanes moving as his rage flared with each step. His dark eyes searching intently for the kin of his tribe. And when he catches sight of her, he moves with swiftness and purpose.

Standing over her he holds out his hand, motioning it as if looking for the item and nothing more.

[Genevre de Provence] She looked up when she felt him there, and motioned to the chair across from him. "Bon jour, mon cousin. It is.. good to see once more." She looked tired actually. And none have actually seen her since the Visage Kemp had produced. "I 'ave been wanting to talk to you."

[Fons Van Der Noot] There was no response to what she had to say, he had no desire to speak. He just glared at her, a sneer crossing his lips. His eyes focused on her as if he wished to set her ablaze with a mere stare.

He actually snarls slightly, the growl coming with a slight crackle to it. He does not even think twice of the idea of killing her. One hand moving to pound on the table, the other more aggressively motioning for her to hand over whatever item she has for him.

[Genevre de Provence] She frowned, and reached down to her briefcase and pulled out the wax sealed letter. She handed it to him. "Fons, I am sorry, truly I am. I zought.....I was doing zee right zing. I even tried to fix it." motioning to the letter. "I spoke wiz mon père about what 'appened. You will be surprised by what 'e said."

[Fons Van Der Noot] If she was fearful of him before, she would be damn well fearful of him now. He did not restrain himself as he had before, he did not speak to her. He just stared with hatred that he only reserved for those of the wyrm.

She starts her apology for what she did. She thought that her words mean anything to him at the moment.

They don't.

All that he has for her at the moment is swiftness, his hand moving without pause to rip the letter from her hand now. Looking down at it and before sneering at her again.

[Genevre de Provence] She looked down, begging in her body language for forgiveness. "I ... petitioned mon père to replace mon child as heir wiz yours. Votre enfant will be first for zee throne, non mine. Non unless zomething 'appens to votre enfant. I... relinquished mon claim to zee throne for you." She paused for a moment. "I asked Katherine what zee Rite does. I will non make fun, cousin, but s'il vous plaît say something. You even 'ave permission to speak in mon mind whenever you wish. I just wish I 'ad zee cousin I grew up wiz back. You 'ave changed so much after your change. I took zings for granted before, Fons. Non more. I am a broken woman, my cousin. I took my status and my life for granted. And now I realize I was wrong the whole time. I am non recording zis, or playing you. I give up, Fons. I just wish to serve where I am needed."

[Genevre de Provence] ((Shit, that whole Italics part was suppose to be in french))

[Fons Van Der Noot] He watched her for a moment, then turns to look at the letter. Looking at it in hand without opening it. His eyes falling on her hard now. His voice moving out with crackling, sharp snaps. As if he was still before his firsting.

"You are a fool mon cousin."

Some of those that sit about look at him strangely, and they are met with dark glare. He was just within an inch of killing someone right now. And as they met his gaze, they move from the table but he could not say the next parts without worry of endangerment. His mind link with his, his voice not some crackled horrificness.

~MS~

I tried to keep this dishonor from spreading, yet you could not abide it. Do you think I want for this? You are just as stupid as you ever were. You are only heiress because the one who would mate you would be King. I tried to protect your honor, tried to hide this foolishness. But you wished to bring it before the Elders of the Sept, tell me what mate will wish you now? You have ruined your good name for what? To shame your own blood. And why? What did you gain? Favors of shadowlords? Tell me?

His words harsh now. There was no need to be polite, she did not warrant it anymore.

[Genevre de Provence] She motioned once more for him to sit. Pleading with her eyes so as not to make a scene.

~MS~ I zought I was doing zee right zing. It was non to gain any honor for mon self, I swear it. I was non zee one to call zee Elders. I was only asked to say what you did. I didn't do it for any gain, or any favor from zee Lords, I swear on our blood, mon cousin. Per'aps I will doe alone. If zat 'appens, zen zat is what I deserve. I zought zere was an injustice and zought I was doing mon duty. You 'old in your 'ands mon punishment from mon père for all mon indisgressions. I wronged you. And I wish to make amends, Fons. You can read mon zoughts, non? Zen you will see I am truly being sincere. Zat I am non lying to you.

[Fons Van Der Noot] ~MS~

No I cannot read your thoughts, my gifts do not work like that. I can only speak to you, nothing more. But tell me who told you to speak out against me? Who called the Elders together?

He already knew the answer, but to hear it from her would ensure it. To show her the point of it all. She would not listen to his words, maybe her own would make more sense.

[Genevre de Provence] She looked down, already knowing whee this was going.

~MS~ Lukas, mon cousin. I listened to a Lord after you said non to. And I 'ave been paying for it ever since. I should 'ave listened to père, and non spoke against you. I amsorry, truly I am, Fons. 'Ow can I make it up to you?

[Fons Van Der Noot] He shakes his head at this. It only took her until their house in Chicago was made to look foolish before she learned her lesson. How does she think she could be a proper lawyer if she must be made a fool before a court before she could learn.

~MS~

Lukas is honorable, the shadow lords would never use you. Never play you. He is just and righteous. Those were your words correct? I did not misquote you? Yet here we stand, your name besmirched, my name dishonored and he stands, lording over both of us.

He does not wish to sit, does not wish to even be in her presence at this moment any more.

~MS~

You saw that you were not getting your way, so you turned into a bratty little child. Now as fate has it, you have been shown your errors and you want to change the results. Well it is too late. You are just as guilty as he. What do you know of duty? I have been robbed of my duty, I have been robbed of my charge before Luna because of a whiny child kin and pissy lord who has the Sept wrapped about his finger. And you think sorry is worthy? That this punishment justifies the shame I must endure? I am done with you for tonight. Maybe if you beg Katherine, maybe she will see leniency in this.

He turns but stops for a second, an answer needed. His voice crackling again to life as it seemed they were there in silence for the last few moments.

"Tell me... mon cousin... was Gabriella truly cast out because she defended me against this Lukas?"

[Genevre de Provence] She closed her eyes, and fought not to cry. Not to be the bratty child he just named her.

~MS~ I am non sure of zee details, but I do believe oui, zat is why she was cast out. I am begging you, Fons, I want to make it up to you. What would you 'ave me do?

[Fons Van Der Noot] ~MS~

I will think about it. This grievous actions has cost more than a simple sorry can ever make up for. However I am looking for one named Heckles the Wyrm, there is some... business I need to speak to him of. If you can find him and can arrange a meeting... that may aid you in once again gaining my favor.

He stands there a few moments before looking back at his cousin on the verge of tears. However pity was something he had no care for. Strange sounds of crackles and yips mix in with his words.

"Decorum mon cousin... decorum."

He turns to leave once more, letter in hand.

[Wyrmbreaker] As they say: speak of the devil.

Lukas is standing in the doorway of the cafe. To call his countenance stormy would be the understatement of a century.

He speaks softly: "Well, this is interesting."

[Genevre de Provence] She nodded sowly, and wipes her eyes discreetly. "Bonne nuit, mon cousin. And I will do mon best to find zis Heckles person you speak of. Merci for coming. I will talk to you soon."

[Fons Van Der Noot] He moves to the cafe door, only to stop at when Lukas stands in the way. The letter of the house king still in hand. His eyes dark on the man now, no words said.

Just looking to move passed him and back to his duties

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre doesn't watch her cousin go, so she doesn't see Lukas in the door. She just goes about hiding her face beneath her hair and looking back at her work through watery eyes. She reached for her cold coffee and sipped, only to make a face. But she didn't say anything, unlike the Genevre before the Council who would have shouted another order out.

[Wyrmbreaker] A hand lands firmly on Fons's chest. He shoves him back.

Cafe patrons gasp.

Lukas snaps, low and hard, "Get over here, Genevre. Stop pretending you don't see me."

[Fons Van Der Noot] He only looks down at the hand on his chest. His shove now. And in return he points to his chest.

"That is my personal space, my territory. Touch me again and I will take it as a challenge against me."

His words a strange crackle as he speaks, ire and snaps coming into a mixture of one.

[Sinclair] Sinclair is a few steps behind Lukas, her coat and the cap on her head snowdusted. She nearly rams into him when he stands in the doorway, mutters something to herself, and then she glances past and sees Fons and Genevre. Her pale blue eyes widen for a flash, then narrow. She doesn't say anything, but a muscle works in her jaw.

[Genevre de Provence] Her head snapped up and she blinked with an 'Oh Merde' look. She honestly did not see him there. Now she felt the weight of life pushing down on her. She closed the files she was reading, and slipped them into her briefcase. As she stood, she put the case in her seat, took a very deep breathe, and walked over to the 2 garou. "Oui, Lukas?"

She heard Fons and winced. ~MS~ "S'il vous plaît, mon cousin. Non 'ere. Non in front of zee 'umans.

[Wyrmbreaker] "Keep your mouth shut," Lukas snarls instantly. "One more word out of you and I'll break you in half."

Some would-be hero: "Sir, could you take this somewhere -- "

"We're leaving." The Ahroun's rage is a flood of ice. He waits for Genevre to approach, then rounds to flank her out the door. "Right now."

Outside the wind is a bitter blast; the sidewalk slick with snow melted and refrozen into treacherous ice. The Shadow Lord's footsteps are firm, his strides long. He does not restrain either of the Fangs, but one doubts it would be in their favor to run. He's heading for his car.

[Fons Van Der Noot] He looked down for but a second as Lukas snarls in that one second. His eyes turning to his cousin for a moment as she approaches and some mundane man speaks up.

As they move from the cafe into the cold bitter, winter wind. He can only look up and smile, that light little smirk. as the ahroun had bared his teeth at him before, a thought crossing his mind. And that crackled, teenage voice comes out, still masked in breeding. The letter in hand tapped against his leg.

"Challenge accepted."

Two simple, yet powerful words.

[Sinclair] The once-athlete -- though she isn't, any longer, has become a warrior and monster rather than a cheerleader or swimmer -- sidesteps out of the doorway before Lukas turns. She stands there to wait for Fons and Genevre, falling into line behind them both. One can imagine she came with Lukas, was futzing with the radio in the BMW on the way here til snarled at, intended to just get some coffee. The worst days of the month have passed for her. Her color is returning to her cheeks. She looks less gaunt around the eyes. She is more social again. The moon is still waning, but at least it does not remind her so painfully of what it is like when her phase is waxing.

Fons speaks, squeaking, and there's a distinct "Snrk." behind the two Fangs and the Lord. She can't help it.

[Genevre de Provence] She looked back for a mere second. "Mon coat." But Lukas probably didn't give her the luxury. She followed, hugging her arms against the cold, rubbing them through the thin blazer she wore for work. Then she hears her cousin and her heart sank.

~MS~ Why are you doing zis, Fons?

[Wyrmbreaker] When Genevre had complained about the cold -- "Freeze for all I care, you self-centered, spoiled, stupid, careless little brat."

And when Fons opens his mouth again: well; the reaction is instantaneous, and violent.

(we're gonna have to go to inits! clark, if you gotta jet, we can do this tmrw or something.)

[Fons Van Der Noot] (Rage check)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Fons Van Der Noot] (I need to jet, but Fons will start this scene in a frenzy)

[Genevre de Provence] She just blinked at Lukas. "You do non know why we met. I was giving 'im a letter from mon père."

[Sinclair] [I'm planning on initting Sinclair in, too, but if you guys need to get this done and I'm not around tomorrow, go on without me.]

[Wyrmbreaker] [we're gonna try to continue this sunday before/after superbowl]

[Genevre de Provence] ((I'll be on))

[Sinclair] [+7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Wyrmbreaker] [quick recap -- correct me if i'm wrong.

they're on a street in lakeview, not far from a cafe. Lukas, Genevre, Fons and Sinclair are all walking. Lukas yelled at Genevre to STFU and DIAF (figuratively) and Fons frenzied.]

[Fons Van Der Noot] (Just a point of order. They have just stepped outside of a cafe in Lake View. And Fons has frenzied... as per the roll last night. He would shift into the Hispo form from frenzy)

[Fons Van Der Noot] (9+)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Wyrmbreaker] [1R - Hispo to meet the frenzied beast
Init +20]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[peep] [Lukas 26
Fons 15
Sinclair 11

Declare in reverse!]

[Wyrmbreaker] [reflexive orders to sinclair: go Crinos to invoke Delirium. Keep the kin out of the way (and from running away)]

[Fons Van Der Noot] (Simple attack. Bite with full force)

[Fons Van Der Noot] (Drop 2 rage for bites as well)

[Sinclair] [Reflexive: Totemphone: Tell me what to d-- oh, okay.
Reflexive: -1R to Crinos
1a. Get between Genevre and Lukas/Fons
1b. Held -- Grapple Genevre if necessary
1c. Held]

[Wyrmbreaker] [1a. bite
b. bite
c. bite
R1. bite
R2. bite]

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. -3 dice!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Wyrmbreaker] (damage +7)
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)

[Fons Van Der Noot] (Soak)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] b. -4 dice!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Wyrmbreaker] (damage +3)
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Fons Van Der Noot] (soak)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre doesn't fight, she's broken thanks to Kemp. She just stands out of the way, rubbing her arms. Then looks to Sinclair. "May I atleast get my coat and briefcase? There are important papers in there for my work. You can follow me if you want. But I will come right back here, or you can hunt me down yourself and kill me." (Would normally be in that funky accent typing, but I broke my glasses, so I can barely see to type it out))

[Fons Van Der Noot] (Rage back)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 7, 9 (Failure at target 8) [WP]

[Sinclair] The crinos-formed beast filling the sidewalk has made the mortals inside and out go screaming. At least one person has flung themselves into the side of a car, not looking where they were going. Another is hiding in the stock room of the cafe, sobbing. The air is rich with shrieks, with twisted human howls of terror. And Warcry's breath steams, fur thick and monochrome, all shadow and steel and snow. Her eyes gleam blue even in this form. She's on all fours, hulking and claws digging into the concrete.

Genevre speaks, and she lunges slightly, threateningly, paws slamming against the sidewalk in front of the kinswoman. Sinclair snarls resonantly, maw opening to show glistening fangs.

The answer is apparently no. You may not.

[Fons Van Der Noot] (Dead)

[Wyrmbreaker] Genevre is complaining about her coat. And her briefcase. Wyrmbreaker and Dirge of the Covenant

are killing each other.

Whatever else may be said about Fons Van Der Noot, he is the nephew of a King. Greatness is in his blood. Outside the Silver Fang tribe, decades could pass without a single cub being born with such pristine purity of breeding. Even withing the Silver Fang tribe, Dirge of the Covenant's presence was arresting.

Was, because in two vicious snaps, Wyrmbreaker tears his throat out. Dirge of the Covenant hits the sidewalk. He does not rise.

A moment later, he reverts to homid form.

Pure as Fons's blood was, it's as red as anyone's, stains his skin and his clothes just the same. Dripping from Wyrmbreaker's jaws, it's as hot and salt and coppery and anything's. The Ahroun is crackling with Rage spent but unwielded, backing away. A second later he snaps to his own Crinos form, grasping the Silver Fang's body by the belt, throwing it over his shoulder.

My car's a block away. His mindvoice is glassy calm; less ruffled, perhaps, than it should be. We need to get off the street, now. Carry the damn kinswoman if you have to.

One hand holding the Fang's body secure to his shoulder, Wyrmbreaker runs for his car.

[-1WP: Keep a cool head!]

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre didn't even flinch when her cousin hit the ground. Nor did she bother running over to mourn for him either. "Someone tell me what the hell is going on? All I did was give him a letter from my father as requested... By my father!" She shook her head.

[Sinclair] Her head whips around, away from Genevre. She doesn't even seem to hear the rest of what's said by the kinswoman. Blue eyes turn cloudy as she looks from Alpha to corpse, and back again. Sinclair remains in her warform, breath fogging the air. She watches, stock still, as Wyrmbreaker hauls Fons's body up and over his shoulder. She hears his voice in her mind, and gives a great shake of her coat,

and is in her birth form a moment later, looking at Genevre. Her hand snaps out, grabs the kinswoman's forearm in a firm grip that is, nonetheless, not meant to injure. Yet.

"You can walk to his car in silence, or be carried unconscious. What's it gonna be?"

[Genevre de Provence] She watched Lukas drag Fons to the car. She stepped away from Sinclair only long enough to retrieve the letter Fons had dropped to the ground. Then Sinclair made her ultimatium. "You can shift down. I'm not going to run. Tired of it really." She sighed. "What about my things?"

[Sinclair] [Sinclair shifted down to homid before she spoken to Genevre.]

[Genevre de Provence] ((Just cut the "You can shift down" out))

[Sinclair] "I said in silence, kinswoman," Sinclair says levelly, and turns, beginning to walk after Lukas. She's still holding Genevre by the arm, her grip tightening slightly as though she doubts the part about Genevre not wanting to run anymore. "God, you're a piece of work. Your cousin's a corpse and you're worried about your briefcase. Just... shut the fuck up, alright?"

[Genevre de Provence] She sighed and whispered softly. "Sinclair, I was just giving him a letter. And the fight, I didn't scream, I didn't protest. And now he is dead. Do you see me crying?" She held up the letter she retrieved. She just hoped the staff would put her things in the back for her to pick up later.

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker does not shift down. He does not get up, either. He runs on three legs, and when he gets to his car, he snaps back to Homid, thumbs the key fob, opens the passenger's door and flips the passenger's seat forward.

Only when Fons has been laid in the back seat of the coupe does he straighten. He doesn't wipe his mouth. He leaves the evidence where it is, raw and red.

"Another word out of your mouth," he says to Genevre, flat, "and you'll spend the rest of the night unconscious. Now get in the back."

He gets in the driver's seat. Sinclair piles into the passenger's. They pull away from the curb. Lukas is a good driver. He can be fast, but not tonight. Last thing they need is to skid off the icy roads and crash into a telephone pole.

"I need to take Dirge of the Covenant to the Elder Council. Both of you are coming with me as witnesses. When that is settled, Genevre, we'll discuss your behavior."

A beat.

"And stop trying to ingratiate yourself to us. We've seen you dance between Fons and I often enough. That trick won't work anymore."

[Genevre de Provence] She just shook her head and got in the car, leaning her head on the door window and waited.

[Sinclair] She gets to I was just -- and the Galliard lets out a harsh huff of air, a sound of frustration. Her hand unlocks from the kinswoman's wrist, and the next thing Genevre knows, there's a hand flying towards her face. The strike is calculated, carefully placed, and incredibly powerful. The entirety of the Unbroken feels the surge of Perun's blessing go through it, and a second later, Sinclair is catching the Fang before so much as a hair on her head brushes the asphalt.

Genevre is carried to the BMW. Genevre is, apparently, going to spend the rest of the night unconscious. Neither warning from Lord or Walker was heeded, so she is put into the back seat with her cousin, both of the Fangs motionless, only one of them breathing.

Sinclair gets in the passenger seat, tense. Nothing is said, now. She watches the city go by through the windows, steaming the glass with her breathing. The only communication is a brush against Lukas's mind over the totemlink, questioning.

Concerned.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas gives a quick sharp jerk of his head, as though shaking off a physical touch.

All he says is, "It's too soon. We'll talk about it later." A breath, deep. His hand tightens on the wheel and he shifts into sixth gear. "Call Katherine and tell her to meet us at the Caern."

[Sinclair] He could call Katherine, too, the same way Sinclair decides to. She doesn't pull out her cellphone and thumb across the display to the Silver Fang's name. She pulls her mental outreach back from her Alpha's mind and reaches out to another, though all of the Unbroken hear it.

...Kate?

Uncertain, almost. Querulous.

Lukas and I are on our way to the Caern. You need to be there when we arrive.

A beat.

So if you're not already there, leave now.

giftbox.

[Danicka Musil] Last night she was on her way home from shopping when she sent off a text message to the -- naturally -- first person she thought of who could clean up a horned and twisted dog so big that it shook the ground on impact. It included a street address and information on what had to be done, but it also included assurances:

I'm safe. I'm at my place. I'm exhausted.

Which was code for, sadly:

I can't be around you right now.

It's been about twenty-four hours now, though. Danicka's not at her place anymore. She's sitting in a coffee shop that she's been frequenting since she arrived in Chicago. The cups have rough black exteriors and glossy green interiors, perfect pottery. Everything is in dark, warm earth tones. It's somewhere between a lounge and coffee house. What Danicka has includes alcohol, and she is sitting in a table she usually sits in, beside the window despite the cold. She remembers sitting here one day in February before being almost literally dragged a few blocks away.

It makes no difference. She reads 100 Years of Solitude and sips her drink, her hair straightened and down.

[Genevre de Provence] Danicka's cell rings.

[Danicka Musil] Technically, Danicka's cellphone vibrates. It's sitting on the tabletop, though. She glances at the screen, one finger in her book, and her brows draw together. She taps the screen as she picks it up and puts it to her ear. "Hello?"

[Genevre de Provence] The french kin sounded a touch bummed or moody or something. "Bonjour, mon ami. Are you close by? I need to talk to someone, S'il vous plaît."

[Danicka Musil] "Whether I'm close by depends entirely on where you are, Genevre," Danicka says placidly. Over the phone, the Fang kinswoman can hear a page turn. In the cafe, anyone else present can see her look at the ceiling. "What happened?"

[Genevre de Provence] She looked about from her car "I am a couple of blocks from mon home." She had pulled over til the shaking stopped. "I went to zee Brozer'ood to check on Lonna. And Theron (which always sounds odd when she tries to say it right) was zere. Where are you? I would rahzer non talk about zis on the phone."

[Danicka Musil] Her eyes close a moment. "I also don't know where your home is, Genevre. Where are you?"

[Genevre de Provence] She spilled out the crossroads she was close to which maybe put her a few blocks from the coffee shop.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas sits down across from Danicka. He doesn't ask if he can or not; yet somehow, the gesture doesn't smack of dominance and presumption.

He smiles at her a little. She can see the way his eyes move over her, as though taking inventory. He produces a small box from inside his coat, which he then shrugs out of it, leaving it draped carelessly back over his chair.

It's unwrapped; looks like a leftover giftbox, the sort of thing chocolates might come in. It's a little late for christmas, though.

[Danicka Musil] The Fang on the other end is telling Ms. Musil where she is when Lukas sits down. Her eyes open at the presence of rage, the nearness of it, and her lips stay close together. On Genevre's end there's not so much as a sudden inhale to be heard. Just silence as she speaks. Then: "That's not far from me. I'm at the Red Lotus, do you know it?"

She confirms that Genevre does, and a moment later she's saying her goodbyes and hanging up. She closes her book. She sets her phone atop it. Danicka's sweater is the color of fresh milk. Her thin scarf is far brighter and more chaotic, reds and yellows and greens and purples, all darkened and subdued in the yarn. She looks from Lukas to the box, and back to him.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asks, then: "Genevre's on her way. She's upset about something." Just a warning. A heads up. Something.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Probably," Lukas admits. "I thought you might be running low."

He glances out the window as though expecting to see Genevre out there. Or perhaps himself, walking by, seeing Danicka inside; turning to come in. Deja vu washes over him. He looks back at her.

"It's been almost a year," he says, quiet.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] In the box:

- A stack of stiff, discolored cloth squares (6)
- Tiny baggies of grey ash (6)
- Throwing darts, the sort one might find in a dart set (10)
- Small clay tokens in the crude shape of shields (7)
- Small clay tokens in the crude shape of spears (7)
- Small clay tokens inscribed with a circle pierced with eight lines -- the approximation of a spider (8)
to Danicka Musil

[Keith Sommers] ooc: So where are you fools?

[Danicka Musil] "I have one bandage," she says. As though taking inventory, giving it back, as though it matters to him. Or maybe just because she chants it in her head sometimes, what she has in her bag of tricks that makes her a little more like Mary Poppins than she already was. "One dart. Two beads. Four bags of dust. One vial."

It's so much less than he gave her. He's seen her use one, perhaps two of the contents of the original box, or the second time he handed talens over. It's so much less.

"Dr. Slaughter wanted me to pass along her thanks for one of the bandages. I used another on Lonna Larson last night. I'm fairly certain she would have died," Danicka says quietly. She has no comment on how long it's been. She's tapping into thoughts she hasn't shared yet, and if she stops now...

...well.

She hasn't opened the box, either. She leans on the table. She could be passing endearments to his ears. She is not. "I gave one of the beads to a little boy in the twelfth century. He was rather scared afterward. And I used one of the vials to sneak behind a corrupted wolf ready for war so I could put a knife in his back."

Danicka reaches out and puts her fingertips on the sides of the box, drawing it across the table towards herself. She opens the lid and glances inside, frowns slightly at the unfamiliarity of some of them, but closes the lid again and looks at Lukas. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you any of this earlier; please don't be angry."

[Theron Locke] After the scene in the Brotherhood earlier Theron had tried to return to sleep, but found that he was unable too. So here he was walking down the footpaths of Chicago, no real destination in mind as he wandered aimlessly.

Hands buried in the pockets of a Buffalo Leather Box jacket, protecting them from the elements.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] ....and vials of inky liquid (4)
to Danicka Musil

[Danicka Musil] [At a coffeehouse/lounge called the Red Lotus. Danicka and Lukas are at a table by the windows in front.]

[Theron Locke] It was just moments later than Theron found himself passing one of many coffeehouses in this strip. This one in particular was called the Red Lotus, and he would have kept walking on by had it not been for the two familiar figures that sat in the window. So he stopped and looked and found Lukas and Danicka to be sitting inside. A smile on his lips as he pulled a hand out of a jacket pocket and rapped his fingers lightly on the window to get their attention.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Oh, and:
- Tiny feathers, like those you might find in a pillow (4)
to Danicka Musil

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas looks ... a little stunned. He leans back, frowning, staring while she enumerates her expenditures. Some of it makes him feel a little better -- they weren't all her. She wasn't so badly hurt or so badly endangered she needed so many bandages, so many protective talens.

Some of it appalls him; makes him angry until he recognizes it for fear. And some of it doesn't even make sense.

When she finishes, and apologizes, his eyes close, ice blue lost behind black lashes. Danicka can see him take a breath, and let it out. Then he opens his eyes again. "I gave them to you so you'd use them if you needed to," he says. "It ... frightens me to think how often you needed to, but it makes me glad you had them."

He leans forward, elbows on the small cafe table; scrubs his face for a second with the heels of his hands.

"You know what the bandages, the darts, the ash and the vials are. There are three kinds of clay tokens in there. They're inscribed, so separate them out and don't confuse them. Two of them you'll be familiar with. The third is new. It'll make you hit harder, no matter what you use.

"There are also feathers. When you activate them, you'll be able to direct where they float. They'll let you smell and hear everything within ten feet.

"Dani&+269;ka...

"Be careful."

Lukas can feel his packmate's presence, so the rap on the window doesn't startle him. His affect does change subtly, almost imperceptibly, though. He sits back, spine a little straighter. And he touches the cold window with his fingertips -- still gloved -- smiling faintly back.

Come on in, Theron. You should know Genevre's on her way too, though.

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre gave up on driving. She left her car parked on the street, and started walking. She was so mixed up inside right now. There was the unhappiness of 'It's over finally.' occassionally sending a ping of heartache. Then the overwhelming 'I'm free! It's over finally!' also screaming at her. Final goodbyes usally made things better. Now she just needed to figure out which one was how she truly felt. So she tightens the coat around her, and begins the trek to the Red Lotus.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [OK, so she just got:
6 bloody bandages
6 arrow killers
10 sense dep darts
7 soak talens
7 damage talens
8 trapdoor boons
4 nightshades
4 whisper feathers]
to Danicka Musil

[Theron Locke] Theron nods in acknowledgement that he has been given permission to join them. Though it's not hard to notice that brief moment when his Alpha was relaxed...not having to be on the "job". Theron had been through a lot to find that....things had progessed to a point where that might be a possibility.

He then responds to the last comment Thanks Lukas... apologies for the interruption he looks apologetic as his eyes flick to Danicka briefly Thanks for the heads up though...but I think things are going to be alright between Gen and I. She sent me her final goodbyes as he says the last he reaches up and pats the breast pocket of his jacket

He makes his way through the door of the Lounge and proceeds to their table "Evening Lukas, Danicka... sorry again for the interruption. I hope I was interrupting anything important? I'll find another table if you'd prefer?" his eyes switching from one to the other.

[Theron Locke] (( I hope I wasn't - rather....))

[Park] This is a far cry from the neighborhood that saw the two of them knocking back beers and entertaining stares from a crestfallen woman on Christmas night.

It's a little further north, a few minutes' drive, yet there is a massive difference between the dive bar with the indecisive jukebox and the beleaguered clientele and the coffee house that the pair go to tonight. Whether Keith had come by the Brotherhood or Park had gone by the Loft, one of them had found the other tonight, and one of them had suggested that they go out into the city and get a cup of coffee and talk. There was plenty they could talk about, in theory. Their conversation had been cut off when last their paths crossed.

The moon overhead is full. What few people are out on the sidewalk at this time of night do their goddamned best to keep their eyes off of the pair as they walk down the street, if only because they feel as though they are up to absolutely no good, because they feel as though a wrong glance or a wrong word will incite violence against their persons. There isn't much to either of them; they're lean and young and easy enough to look at, but not easy enough to bear.

As they walk, conversation is at a minimum. Tempers are too high for idle chatter, and guards are at a high as they move through streets that Park confesses at one point to being surprised at; she'd thought, given the rumors that they're telling as far away as California, that the gutters would course with blood here.

Park has her hood up, and it isn't until they step over the threshold and her boots connect with the hardwood floor that she reaches up slim hands to lower it. She steps out of the way to allow the Silver Fang room to enter, and then she shakes out her hair and unzips her barn coat.

[Danicka Musil] There's more. Things like And last night, the dog? There were also two leeches. Tentacles again! Why always with the fucking tentacles and these assholes?

But she'd rant about bloodsuckers. Danicka dislikes them more than monsters, partly because they so often look human, because they take away her control so often, because... because she remembers things about them, knows them as well as she knows corrupted Lords and crazy Fangs. Danicka does not fear what she can't see, or what she doesn't know, or what she doesn't understand.

She's rather intimate with all the things she fears. And hates.

They speak of such things in their near-corner table that would warp the minds of mortals. They speak quietly, etching soft words into the air, and though Danicka doens't take notes on what he tells her, she files it away. She knows that to use this means draining her reserves of energy, exhausting herself, which makes them for preparation and last resort efforts. She knew that before. Her eyebrows flick up slightly when he explains the talens that increase damage done... by bullet, by knife, by whatever it is.

But she actually looks somewhat delighted when he tells her about the feathers. "That's so neat," she says, or is about to say, when he tells her to be careful. The smile fades. Her brow furrows. She adds, more quietly: "I am."

Danicka doesn't start when Theron knocks. She does blink, though, turning her head towards the rapping on the glass. It's debatable whether or not she knew he was there, saw him coming. She didn't make eye contact, but her peripheral vision is something stellar. Her attention to her surroundings borders on hypervigilant.

Lukas touches the glass. Danicka closes the box more tightly and twists in her seat, putting it in her bag hanging off the back of her chair. "How are things with he and Anežka?" she asks before Theron enters. It isn't a casual question. Not for her.

Whether Lukas has time to answer that or not, a few moments later Theron's right there, apologizing 'again' -- though that word makes her eyebrows tug together for a second in confusion. She sits up a little bit straighter, looking over at Lukas. Deferring.

[Danicka Musil]
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 12 at target 3) Re-rolls: 1
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Keith Sommers] He's in a mood. He's usually in some kind of mood: curious, friendly, self-mocking, aloof, let's do violence tonight, let's do violence tomorrow, let's do violence yesterday and today, let's sit and do nothing, let's do nothing, wouldn't it be nice to just nothing, or -- he'll come across easy, joking, just wants to do something, anything. He's often restless, Keith, but today he's in a mood, and this means he's not just letting his Rage tug him toward random outbursts. This means he's feeling low, and it shows -- the way his shoulders slope, even though he carries his head (the way they're taught: the way they're supposed to carry 'em) high enough. The way his eyelids stay half-hooded, like he doesn't want to get into the bother of meeting anybody's eyes, because he'd much rather be estranged from the (would you believe -- fucked up! -- beloved, maybe?) frisson of hatred and fury that's spiritually righteous (or so he's heard).

That mood's sort've put a damper on Keith's natural ability to carry on a decent conversation, but he's got something on his mind anyway, and Park confesses that she'd thought the gutters would course with blood. He managed an offhand reply, something about it being too fucking cold for any liquid to course -- how fast does blood freeze, anyway, just outta the body? They're in, and by sheer chance (Keith's definitely not perceptive enough to have planned going to the same coffee shop as Lukas and Danicka and Theron, as his cousin's packmates) it's the Red Lotus they've gone to for some coffee.

In Keith goes after Park, in a mood, running his fingers through his hair, boy needs to stop or maybe one day he'll go bald, but shyah. Like that'll happen. "Where do you want to sit?" He follows that up with: "Let's sit by the window."

[Danicka Musil] 8 + 11
Dice Rolled:[ 19 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "They're through," Lukas says in the moments between Theron's knock, and Theron walking up to the table.

Then the Ahroun shakes his head at his packmate. "You're not interrupting, Theron. Come on, sit down. The waitress hasn't been by for me yet." His eyes flick past Theron; to Keith, to Park.

"Have you met them yet?" He nods at the pair. Newcomers. Lukas has been in this city a year; that's somehow become a long time in comparison.

[Genevre de Provence] The weather was screaming out for more snow, and the night sky that hid the full moon behind the engourged clouds showed it.

Genevre shuffled through the streets, along the sidewalks, til she finally found the Red Lotus. Two things caught her eye. The table by the window where Danicka, Lukas and Theron sat. And yet, this time, seeing him, there was no ache. No screaming pain of loss.

And then the second window where she saw Keith with another garou. She smiled and went to their window and knocked, trying to get Keith's attentions. When he looked, she would blow him a kiss. Then made her way inside.

[Danicka Musil] There are, when Theron arrives, two chairs at the table where Lukas and Danicka sit. There may very well be a third chair by the time that Genevre arrives, pulled over by the Theurge to seat himself. The table isn't very large; Danicka is putting her book away now, too, the greenish cover mottled with various animals. Snakes. Birds.

She is blinking at Lukas as people are making their way inside, but not in surprise. She does, however, lift a hand and flag down Genevre when the Fang enters, waving her over.

[Theron Locke] Theron turns his head to the two Lukas point, he shakes his head in response "I don't believe I have. They people I should meet ?" turning his face back to Lukas.

Eventually finding his way into a spare seat as he sits down. Hearing the door of the lounge open, he directs his gaze there. His Alpha had told him to expect Genevere, so it's not surprise when he sees her entering. When and if she gets his attention , he gives her a nod of acknowledgement and a small smile.

Turning back to Lukas and Danicka , he directs his next question to the later "Does Lukas know about last night?" he asks this question before saying anything more.

[Park] It's an easy enough question, but one that is asked as Park is surveying the bodies currently occupying the coffee house's belly. It's late on a weeknight, but most of the people in here have the next day off, have had the entire week off, these students and young professionals and artists, people with nowhere else to go on a Wednesday night than the local lounge. Many of them find themselves growing uneasy. The polite-looking young man with the gorgeous blonde is, in a word, intense; the tall, dark-haired fellow who joins him is far less unnerving, yet there is an edge to his presence that makes the weaker willed of the bodies start to grow uncomfortable.

Park reaches up to gather her hair into her right hand before tossing it over one shoulder, allowing it to drape behind her rather than about her upper body, and says, "Let's."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "The woman is one of Thunder's. You might remember her from when we went before the Council ((annnd we're just leaving that there cuz we don't know how that ends)). The man is one of Kate's, and she likes him quite a bit. You might as well meet them both."

The question that follows gets Lukas's attention, though he doesn't do more than look between his packmate and his mate. Then he raises his hand in greeting at Park and Keith as they approach.

"Hey," he says. "You guys want to move a table over and combine?"

[Danicka Musil] A different woman would, after just -- finally -- hearing that his relationship with her mate's sister ended, feel sympathy for him, however misguided. She's oblivious to any interaction between Theron and Genevre other than a dance that was, as Lukas told her, just a dance. Danicka is missing more information on the social dynamics swirling inside the Red Lotus tonight than anyone else, but she carries herself with a calm grace that suggests she knows everything Theron is thinking, everything Genevre is feeling, everything Lukas wants to say but isn't.

She might.

Theron doesn't know Danicka very well. And he has no idea the reaction she has when he asks her -- not Lukas -- if Lukas knows about what happened last night. Her forehead is smooth, and a small, gentle smile curls the corners of her mouth. It's soothing. She nods. "He knows."

[Keith Sommers] Keith is a direct person (it seems, usually). Let's, Park says, and Keith chooses a table without looking around; without much thought except for the moon overhead, and whatever it is that's putting him into a bad mood tonight, whatever it is he and Grandfather Thunder's philodox are going to discuss. Which is to say, he sat down without noticing Lukas. He doesn't even notice Genevre, at first, until she knocks on the window. That gets him. He doesn't quite flinch, but he goes dangerously still (tenses) for a second. His eyebrows furrow, and he looks out. She blows him a kiss, the furrow deepens. He picks up a menu, studies it. Says something to Park, and looks up to see what she's going to make of it -- and that's when Lukas waves, and calls over, and Keith sits up (he'd started to slouch once he was in the booth, drumming his fingers on his leg, drumdrum, drumdrum). He opens his mouth to reply -- checks himself; the presence of Danicka and Theron and Genevre. He lifts his voice, says: "Lukas. If there's enough room, why not."

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre enters and is flagged down by Danicka. She glances over to Keith for a moment, then joins those of the Unbroken at their table. "I did non realize you 'ad company, Danicka."

[Danicka Musil] "Actually," Danicka says, pushing her chair back as she rises to her feet, "let's move. There's a larger table over there," she adds, pointing to one in the middle of the room that will seat six. No one is there. All the minitables, suitable for two or three people, are taken up by couples or small groups. Nobody's sitting at the two square tables with six chairs around it.

She plucks her coat and purse from the back of the chair and shakes her straightened hair off her shoulder, smiling at Genevre. "Neither did I. I just happen to be a lighthouse for our people, or something."

Notably, when she reaches the table, Danicka takes the seat to the left of the head.

[Park] Whatever Keith says to Park grabs her full attention. She doesn't reach for her own menu right away, doesn't shuck out of her barn coat or toy with her hair again. She looks straight across the low table at the Ahroun, briefly pulling her lower lip between her teeth to chew at a tag of skin, and replies in a quiet voice not meant to carry far enough to be heard. That settles the matter; they're being waved at.

The woman looks over at the Fostern who had called a meeting of the Council last week, her expression nigh unto unreadable. Keith accepts the invitation, and the woman--who had only been introduced as Covered Sky-yuf by the Philodox Elder last week, who had not supplied her human name unless asked for it--glances between the two of them before standing again.

Her eyes find the Lord kinswoman easily enough, but she doesn't stare or sniff or scoot as close to her as she can get. The Fang who had blown Keith a kiss is likewise given no special attention. There's a suggestion that they move, and Park appears amenable to this.

"Lukas," she greets the Fostern, and her eyes flick to his packmate.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Let's do it," Lukas says, and gets up.

The six of them make a small commotion in the cafe as they move, winter coats and all. At the new table, Lukas doesn't hesitate to take the seat at the head of the table, beside Danicka.

"Have you guys all met? This is Dani&+269;ka, my girlfriend, and Theron, my brother. That's Keith and Genevre, Kate's cousins. And this is -- " he hesitates for a second; he realizes he has no idea what Park's human name is, " -- my cousin Sky."

[Genevre de Provence] When they all move around and go about switching tables, Genevre does her best to get a seat next to Keith. A smile was given to Danicka. "I suppose it can wait, mon ami."

[Theron Locke] The conversation he was going to have with Danicka, stopped for the moment. He moved with the group as they changed tables.

Theron offers both Park and Keith a nod of greeting, the former now recognised as the philodox he had stood before "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

[Danicka Musil] The word 'girlfriend' makes Danicka smile in a flash, for some reason. It fades as she nods a greeting to Keith and Park, the two she hasn't met. To Genevre, a simple one-shouldered shrug and a nod of assent: "As you will."

Settling into her seat, she replaces her saucer and mug on the table in front of her, loosening her tightly-knit, brightly-colored scarf around her throat a bit more. "I'm afraid I've already eaten, but they have decent sandwiches here. And the pecan-pear salad is very good."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "If you need to talk," he says to Danicka, and more vaguely, to Genevre, "I should probably have a word with Sky and Keith."

[Keith Sommers] It isn't difficult to get a seat next to Keith for the Silver Fang kin -- at least, Keith puts no difficulties in her way. He chooses a seat at the foot of the table, just about opposite Lukas, but he doesn't take it immediately. Instead, he nods courteously to Danicka -- gaze resting on her collarbone, flicking up to her face -- then a nod of similarly measurable courtesy is given to Theron. "Likewise," he says, to Theron; a brief quirk of the mouth is meant to extend a similar sentiment (pleasure, not likewise) to Danicka. THEN he'll sit. "I'll apologize upfront if I make for bad company tonight," he says, and the furrow appears between his eyebrows again. He shrugs it off. Then: "What's their coffee like?" It's idle; he doesn't expect Danicka to know. He doesn't expect her not to know. It's filler. "And how is everybody?" He clues into something: "Ah. I don't want to keep you girls from girltalk."

[Genevre de Provence] Gen waved a hand. "It can wait. It is.....girl stuff." She smiled, her eyes going from Lukas to Keith and back, trying to give a hint about just what she needed to talk to Danicka about.

Then she heard Keith's comment and reached over to gently take his hand if he allows. "No worries, mon ami."

[Danicka Musil] [perception + empathy]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Park] Introductions are handed out in order of importance and familiarity, Danicka taking the seat to the left of the head and the rest of the group falling in from there. She is introduced as Sky, and she doesn't move to correct or amend, to offer up anything other than what has been given. Sky seems perfectly acceptable. Maybe her parents were hippies, or they just liked the way it sounded in English.

Park winds up sitting between Theron and Keith, across from Genevre, who is given a more thorough investigatory glance once she has taken up her seat. Coat is draped over the back of her chair, revealing the woman to be wearing a gray thermal shirt underneath. She hikes up the sleeves, and when Lukas says he should probably have a word with the two of them, she glances down the table.

The woman doesn't talk much. She hasn't said more than three words since they walked in, and all of them were directed at the Fang.

[Theron Locke] Theron just sits quietly and watches all the interactions, previously he would have been fixated on Genevre. But tonight it appeared he was more relaxed around her.. perhaps important events had been left in the past and now they would both move on freely.

He turns to Keith "Don't worry... I'm in the same boat. A bad night and a lack of sleep doesn't really help matters."

[Danicka Musil] It isn't Genevre who has Danicka's attention as to the matter of whether they need to talk or not. She looks at Lukas for a protracted moment, then allows Genevre's dismissal of the topic to end the matter of whether or not they'll be excusing themselves. She looks over at Keith. "Their coffee is their reason for existing. It's fantastic, and they use excellent cognac.

"And thank you," she says with a smile, "I'm doing quite well tonight."

If it's relatively speaking, it's still not a lie.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas agrees to Genevre's dismissal with a wordless gesture of his hand. The Shadow Lord slouches a little in his chair, relaxed; one arm over the back, the other hand atop the table. It's that hand that turns briefly palm-up. Then he addresses Park:

"So how are you settling in? I've barely seen you since you came to town."

[Keith Sommers] He's not really very good at hiding his thoughts. To whit: he offers Genevre a somewhat perplexed look; puts his other hand over hers, pat, pat, there there, yes, they're Shadowlords aren't they, but it's okay, then deposits her hand on the table. Keith is a gentleman, or he tried to be, sometimes, even when the moon is full. As he does this, he's raising his eyebrows (expressive, those) at Danicka. Attentive. He grins, then. "Do I take it this a regular spot for you?" Theron says he's had a bad night and a lack of sleep, and he gets a look. "I'm sorry to hear that, man. What happened?"

[Park] A quiet smile tugs at Park's lips when Lukas states he's barely seen her since she came to town, as though she finds something vaguely humorous about what he's said. She doesn't laugh, though. She just folds her hands in her lap beneath the table and takes up the other half of the conversation.

His voice is deep enough that she doesn't have to strain to hear from beyond arm's length away. When she speaks, it is not in a soft or quiet voice but rather a low, confident alto.

"I keep strange hours," she says. That is to say: she's barely seen him, either. A beat, and then, "I'm settling in well. It's nice to sleep in a bed again, I haven't been in one place long enough to have one for months."

[Danicka Musil] Tonight Danicka is dressed like a schoolteacher of sorts. Her sweater is modest, her scarf eccentric but not offensive, her pencil skirt a subtle gray and almost knee-length; demure. Her tights -- or stockings, impossible to guess without pulling up her skirt, really -- are similarly colored to her sweater. Her shoes, a pair of leather ankle boots the color of gunmetal, are hardly fuck-me heels, but take her three inches above her normal height all the same.

She is, as Lukas discovers after a moment of conversation, able to slip her small feet out of them just as easily as any regular pair of pumps. His jeans aren't loose enough for her to slide her toes up alongside his leg, but that's alright. The touch of her foot to his ankle, running up and down his calf, is... more familiar than anything else. They haven't so much as touched hands since the last time they saw each other.
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Theron Locke] Theron offers a shrug to Keith "It seems just the usual for Chicago... some friends of mine ran into some trouble last night. Saying ne ended up pretty badly hurt is a understatement, thankfully she was brought to me in time and there were a couple of others to help. "

"But last I heard from her guardian.. she was safe at home, resting. Just has all left me rather tired and stressed. I'm just glad they are in one piece though" a small look to both Genevre and Danicka.

"However I don't want to be a downer... was actually out looking for a distraction. So maybe we should direct the conversation elsewhere."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "You'll have to tell me about that sometime." That's not just conversational. He means it: he'd like to hear the story behind that. They're Shadow Lords. They're not particularly known for wandering.

Lukas goes on, "I'm sure someone's already passed the word on, but I take care of our family's affairs here. So if anything comes up, or if you get in any trouble, come find me. I'm at the Brotherhood most nights, room 2."

[Danicka Musil] "You do," Danicka answers Keith, in an agreeable sort of tone. She's leaning back a bit in her chair, looking a touch more relaxed than she did at first, her head tipped slightly to one side. In this light, the amber flecks in her eyes come out more brightly, make her gaze warmer.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Perhaps it says something, how good they both are at looking ... well, normal. Above the surface of the table, Lukas's attention doesn't waver from Park. He doesn't glance at Danicka when her foot contacts his shin.

Beneath the surface of the table, his leg extends slightly; brings the hard arch of his shinbone more solidly in contact with the curl of her toes. There's a sort of familiarity in that, too; an unshy, firm intimacy, like an animal bumping up against his mate in greeting.
to Danicka Musil

[Keith Sommers] It seems just the usual for Chicago, Theron says, and something about that phrase. Keith frowns down at the table for a moment, and when he looks up, his expression is apologetic. For once, he's managing control. "You're right, Theron; and I'm no good for company at all tonight, so I think I'm going to leave. I'm sorry; I'll try the coffee another time," brief nod for Danicka, and it's amazing that he even remembers these social niceties. "If you're coming," he says, to Covered Sky, giving her the option. And to Genevre, whose player looks like she's fallen off: "Good night. Lukas? I would like to speak to you soon. Nice to meet everybody once again." And with that, he makes his escape into the cold.

[Danicka Musil] Her foot slips behind his leg, entwining as they sometimes do when they're bared. When they're alone. He often covers her legs with his own as they sleep, just as his arm wraps around her and keeps her close to his chest. On the surface level, Theron is discussing last night and -- Danicka is watching the others leave, each to their own.

So she withdraws her leg, lest they see it nestled against his as they leave, the table not covered by a cloth. And exhales.
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Danicka Musil] A muscle in Danicka's cheek works as Theron goes on about last night. Again. She doesn't look at him, but nods to Genevre as the other woman takes her leave. There's a slight exhale from her and a nod of goodbye as Keith exits, possibly with Park in tow. She looks at Lukas, then at Theron.

"I wasn't aware you knew Lonna."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's brief discussion with Park seems over; he looks up as Keith stands. "Sure," he says. "I'm at the Loft often enough. Are you still staying there?"

[Keith Sommers] "Yeah, I'm there tonight; probably tomorrow. Otherwise," a moment's pause. He's antsy, can't quite keep still. Too much energy, and it gets expansive. "I think Kate has my address." Ah: so the freeloader actually had his own place; he was just too lazy to go there. Or he liked the pool. "Good night," he says, again.

Then: gone!

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I'll catch you there," Lukas replies, meaning the Loft. Or maybe the pool.

Genevre departs as well; the table belongs to the Shadow Lords. Lukas looks between the two for a moment. Then:

"You guys want to get sandwiches to go?"

[Theron Locke] "Sounds like a plan.. I've got some things I want to talk to Danicka about." and then he turns to face her "Yeah after a few casual run-ins , we've been spending a bit of time together.". Standing from the table as he readies to make his leave with them.

[Danicka Musil] That makes one of Danicka's eyebrows quirk. She doesn't know Lonna very well; she's only met her a few times, and usually something horrific is happening. But the eyebrow lowers, unexplained, and if there was a question behind it, Danicka doesn't voice it. She looks vaguely curious about whatever it is Theron wants to talk to her about, but -- again -- doesn't seem to think now is the time.

"I'm actually going to go home, I think," she says, half-turning to glance at Lukas before returning her attention to the Theurge. "You can get my number from Lukáš," she says, and -- oddly enough, especially for a kinswoman of their time -- there's a note of permission being granted, to both of them, in that statement.

She says his name differently from everyone in the city. A rounder vowel, a susurration of sound at the end. It's deeper on her tongue, warmer from her throat. It isn't just that she pronounces his name correctly. She doesn't say anyone else's name with that sort of... ache to it.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Já uvidíme se pozd&+283;ji," Lukas says to Danicka.

Then he stands up, picking his coat up off the back of his chair, raising his eyebrows at Theron. "Sandwiches, and then I'll give you a lift back to the BroHo?"

[Danicka Musil] "Brzy," Danicka says back, rising to her feet and picking up her coat to shrug into it. She shoulders her bag and nods a goodbye to Theron as she buttons her coat, smiling faintly at both men before walking out the door and down the street ot her car.

[Theron Locke] "Yeah sounds like a plan... I got permission to go see Lonna, but I think I'll save that for the morning." he gives Danicka a nod as he is told to ask for her number , and watches as she leaves.

eenie meenie miney moe.

[-bump-] OK folks! This is gonna be a pretty standard dicetastic scene. Nothing fancy. Ergo:

1. 10 min per post OR LESS. Preferably less. If we're dicing, declare in 3 min. Roll in 2 or I'll roll for you.
2. No posting order, but please post ONCE for every post I make.
3. Keep track of your own health and tempers.
4. Questions in the chat. Don't IM me. If I don't see the question, repeat it until I do *LOL* If I don't respond for minutes on end -- I'm probably posting. You should wait, unless it's absolutely urgent, upon which you should PM me once.
5. PM me your applicable flaws. This includes stuff like nightmares and phobias and hatreds and compulsions.
6. If there are any off-limits themes, imagery or events you do NOT want to see in a scene, PM 'em to me now.
7. Go ahead and post yourselves in. We are a block or two off Broadway, so it's a quiet semi-urban commercial/residential area. Brick rowhouse, treelined street. Looks something like this:

http://tinyurl.com/yb2vaqp

Your character might just be coming out of a theater or a restaurant or something!

[Lonna Larson] Lonna Larson had finally become comfortable enough with herself that she could go to the movies alone and not be embarrassed or frustrated or anything of the sort about the act. It violated a social norm, yes, that one was supposed to be ashamed when they came out of movies alone because it was an inhernetly social act to sit by your closest friends for two hours and not say a word to them.

No. No, Lonna thought this act was completely stupid because, well, if she wanted to watch a movie with her friends she would talk through it. And, if she wanted to actually watch a movie, she obviously did not feel the need to surround herself with people that she liked.

So, there she was, making her way out of the theatre smelling vaguely like cut flowers and dissapointment.

There was twelve bucks and two and a half Lonna Larson was never going to get back.

[Danicka Musil] Ms. Musil is finished shopping for the night. She's striding down the sidewalk, back to the station or back to wherever her car is parked. Her boots are worn over her skinny-legged jeans, crunching into the snow and crushing the salty icemelt. She's got a few layers on up top underneath her black wool revere coat, a yellow leather purse over one arm, and she's carrying a couple of shopping bags in her other -- gloved -- hand. There's a green knit hat on her head with a tiny decorative brim and a daisy on it, offset. Her hair is in two long blonde braids.

It's very cold. She's alright with that. Her breath steams as she walks. Her cream-colored scarf peeks out at the world from beneath her coat. She hums to herself as she goes. It's the Happy Birthday song.

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre had spent most of the morning and afternoon in this district working on some contracts for a local company. Now she was on her way back up the street to find her car, since parking sucked in America, so that she could head back to the office and work on revisals.

[-bump-] There's an faux-irish pub just down the block, and the door flies open to emit a burst of noise and music -- as well as one glass walker kinsman, tossed out on his ass. The Fox & Feather isn't really the sort of establishment you see barfights in a lot. It's all green felt and dark wood, expensive and just a little pretentious, a place for young professionals with musical leanings to go for overpriced scotch and half-decent open mic nights. No wonder Alexander Vaughn and his antics weren't welcome here.

"I know girls that fight better than you!" he shouts back in the open door. A motorcycle helmet answers him -- pitched out at his head. He catches it. The door slams shut. The street is quiet again.

By coincidence or serendipity, they're all within a block or so of each other -- Danicka, Genevre, Lonna, Alexander. Grumbling, the Glass Walker gets to his feet, dusting snow off his ass.

Somewhere down the street, a dog starts barking.

[Danicka Musil] She's not one of the women in this town who delights in seeing Alexander Vaughn tossed out of a pub, tackled flat in the snow, or otherwise brutalized. She doesn't feel much at all when she sees him up head, nor does she have much reaction to the sight of Lonna coming out of a theater across the street. She's familiar with both of them. She usually only sees them when bad things are happening, and that may be why the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end suddenly.

No matter, no matter. She ignores the crawling sensation of foreboding for now and keeps walking, does not offer Alexander a nasty quip, but does wave to Lonna slightly. She hasn't seen Genevre yet.

[Lonna Larson] Somewhere, a dog starts barking. The blonde keeps her hands in her pockets and she moves down the street. She stops, finds herself looking at a pub, and wonders briefly if she should go get a drink or not. There's always room for booze, it seems. The Child of Gaia continues on her way, though her eyes go from Mr. Vaughn to... oh, a wave.

She looked at Danicka and she smiled. The bonde slipped her hand out of her pocket and waved hello to her. Lonna had yet to realize that she only saw Danicka when something terrible was about to happen. They were missing Atropos this evening, how unfortunate. She does see Genevre though, and she waves to her as well.

She is pleased, to say the least.

[Genevre de Provence] She manages to get to where her car -should- be and looks around. She frowns, she could have sworn she had parked just there.

Hearing the commotion not too far away, she looks to see Alex throw out on his ass. She smirks a bit, finding it amusing actually. Then a look around, and she notices Lonna. A light wave was given back before she moved up the way and stood next to Alex.

"You alright, monsior?"

[-bump-] By then, Alex is back on his feet, dusting his ass off, turning his helmet over in his hands to check for damage.

"What?" He whips around, looks at Genevre. "Who the fuck are you?"

Down the street, the dog's bark grow louder, more urgent. Whoever's dog it is, he isn't getting shushed. Maybe the owners aren't home. Or maybe --


(percep/alert check! diff 8, all or nothing.)

[Danicka Musil] [perception + alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8) Re-rolls: 1

[Lonna Larson] [per+alert, diff8]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 10 (Failure at target 8)

[Genevre de Provence] "Genevre. I 'ave seen you around, non? May'aps at the Brother'ood? For zee celebracion of Thanks?" But the dog's barking makes her turn to that general direction.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[-bump-] That dog is getting closer.
to Danicka Musil, Genevre de Provence

[Danicka Musil] Her attention does pick up on Alex and Genevre now, as her hand drops and she turns her head that way. The barking of the dog makes her frown, as she heads towards Genevre and Alex, expecting Lonna to do the same, perhaps.

"Genevre de Provence, Alexander Vaughn," she says. "Vaughn, de Provence." Only half a beat. "Would the three of you like to join me for some drinks? I have an idea to run past some of you, and now's as good a time as any."

Maybe she believes in Providence. Or Serendipity. Or something.

[Lonna Larson] Lonna Larson is deliciously clueless in this regard. There was a dog barking, and it was barking quite a bit. Lonna wasn't too sure what that meant, but she didn't quite put much thought into it. She smiles, something polite and lovely as usual and has finally bridged the gap with little effort.

"I'm Lonna, Lonna Larson, it's a pleasure," introductions to the man who is a little taller than she is, and it's back to Danicka.

Mentioning booze. God bless Danicka Musil.

"That? Sounds fabulous, I would appreciate that."

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other, so she could get to her purse hung from her shoulder, and shifting her hand in it as if looking for something. She's a touch distracted by the dog barking, but a nod was given to Danicka. "Oui, mon ami. I will buy zee firse round."

[-bump-] Alexander laughs, a rough sort of sound, dabbing at his nostrils with the ball of his thumb to see if he's bleeding. He's not. "Well, if she's buying, I'm in. We better head somewhere else. I'm no longer welcome here -- "

He breaks off. They can all hear claws on asphalt now, running. The dog's still barking. It's loose. It's coming at them, and

it's not a dog.

This is a nice street; a quiet, tree-lined street with brick rowhouses that march away into the distance and plenty of street lighting. Pools of amber sodium light fall on the snow drifts and the well-plowed street. Sprinting straight down the center of the road, seen in flickers and flashes as it dashes through those pools of light, is a beast out of nightmare.

It's fourlegged. It runs like a dog, forepaws stretching for leverage and hindquarters churning with power. It has short, dense fur; the markings are vaguely those of a doberman, or a rottweiler. That's where the resemblance ends.

The size of the thing is mindboggling, for one -- as large as a pony; bulging with overblown musculature. Bone spikes protrude from its elbows and the hocks; from the point of the shoulder and the croup. A ring of bone crowns the withers. Three horns protrude from the skull, like a triceratops gone wrong. Slaver runs from its jaws as it snaps and growls and barks, coming straight at them.

By now, it has become rather clear Fido doesn't want to play.

(inits!)

[Danicka Musil] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[-bump-] (Those of you with guns: I'll let you draw and load in one action (split is okay). Fido is still a good 20-30 yards away, though it will cover that in a round -- so for this round, it's just running at them.)

[Genevre de Provence] 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Lonna Larson] 5+1d10
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[-bump-] +6!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] (Action order:
Fido
Lonna
Danicka
Gen

Declare in reverse!)

[-bump-] 7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] (Ahem.
Alex
Fido
Lonna
Danicka
Gen)

[Genevre de Provence] Spending round to draw gun and load clip.

[Danicka Musil] Upon sight of the dog, Danicka Musil's eyes go wide. She drops her shopping bags on the sidewalk immediately, but it's not out of shock. Air, ice cold, shoots into her nostrils as her hand goes into her bag with motions that are, sadly, becoming rather practiced.
[1a. Draw and load
1b. 3RB on Fido]

[Lonna Larson] There was a dog there. A bog... thing... ish. She looks at it, brows knit and the blonde takes a second to rifle through her purse, because no lady was ever really fully dressed without a hand gun
[Actions1
1a: Draw and load
1b: 3 round burst! Sorry, Fido]

[-bump-] Fido:
BARK! BARK BARK! RUN! BARK!

Alex:
1. Dig in Danicka's shopping bags for something to use as a weapon.

[-bump-] (Anything useful in those bags?)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2 (Failure at target 6)

[Lonna Larson] [Shoooot! dex3+firearms2+3RB = 8 -3 (split) = 5, diff 7)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7) [WP]

[Lonna Larson] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-bump-] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] The first staccato burst of bullets comes from Lonna. They hit the once-dog with a crunch of lead into bone. The creature yelps, stumbles ... keeps on coming.

[Danicka Musil] [1b. dex + firearms + 3 (burst) -3 (split)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7) [WP]

[Danicka Musil] [damage. 4 + 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 6, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Genevre de Provence] *is loading in the clip*

[Lonna Larson] Bullets hit the once-dog, but it doesn't stop moving just yet. No, it's still coming. it just... keeps... coming. The blonde grits her teeth, and a look of clear displeasure crosses too pretty features. Normal day in Chicago, it seemed.

[-bump-] Danicka, Genevre and Lonna, for all intents and purposes, appear to be three ordinary young women.

They're not going to some secret meeting; they're not on some quest. They're rather attractive, all of them, but nothing that would stop traffic, shake the earth. They're all well-off, or at least comfortably situated in life, but none of them appear to be heiresses to a fortune. None of them are out particularly late. None of them are returning from anything particularly interesting.

And then a hound from hell comes howling down the street at them. And not a single one of them shrieks, or runs. Not a single one of them cowers and hides.

They all drop their shopping bags, their movie popcorn, their briefcases -- and pull handguns out of their pretty little outfit-coordinated purses. Not little snubnosed ladies' affairs, either, but matte black, heavy, semiautomatic pistols capable of firing three round bursts. They step away from each other on instinct, load, flick the safety off, square to the target, brace their firing hand with their off.

The street resounds with gunfire.

And with the sound of tearing paper and cardboard. Alexander has found a knife block in Danicka's shopping bags. A moment later the kinsman gets to his feet, a cleaver in one hand, a chef's knife in the other.

"Bring it!" he shouts at the dog-thing.

And the dog brings it.

[Genevre de Provence] 1) Firing, 3RB at hellhound

[Danicka Musil] "Alexander Vaughn, I swear to Christ almighty if you blunt a single one of those I will end you," snaps one of the two blondes, the shorter one, without lowering her arms.
[1a. 3RB
1b. 1 shot]

[Lonna Larson] Action! 3rb!

[-bump-] Hellhound:
1a. Headbutt Lonna! With horns!
b. Bite Alex!

Alexander:
a. Stab in ribs with chef's knife!
b. Chop cleaver into skull!

[-bump-] a. Stab! +2 diff for targeting. Effects: if damage after soak, stamina -1 for collapsed lung. -2 dice!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] Damage, +1
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[-bump-] b. HEAD CHOP. No particular effect.
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 8 (Success x 3 at target 4)

[-bump-] 2
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-bump-] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-bump-] Alexander: "Your knives are already dull!"

[-bump-] The hellhound yelps as Alexander's knife -- formerly Danicka's knife -- parts thick muscle, slips past arching ribs, finds its target in the tender tissue of the lung. However, it shrugs off a direct blow to the cranium. Doesn't even seem to split the skin.

A second later it bows its head and drives directly for Lonna with its three wickedly pointed horns.

a. -2 dice, headbutt!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 7, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[-bump-] Damage +1(headbutt) +2(succ), lethal.
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Lonna Larson] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] Lonna isn't nearly so tough. Bone tears through her flesh like razors through paper. The kinswoman drops, stunned, as a pool of blood begins to spread beneath her.

The hound doesn't hesitate. It turns and snaps, viciously, for the one with the knives.

b. -3 dice, bite!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[-bump-] Damage, lethal!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Lonna Larson] She doesn't so much sit up as she does roll over and look at the triceratops-turned-housepet. The blonde barely levels her gun and fires three times. Thank everything she's close...

[3RB: dex3+firearms2+3 = 8 - 5 (OWW!) = 3, diff 7 - 2 (really effing close))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Lonna Larson] damage
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Danicka Musil] Danicka doesn't answer Alex. The hellhound's closer, and there's a muscle in her jaw twitching, a glint in her eyes that isn't fury but terror. She readies herself for the nine millimeter's kickback and fires off three rapid shots again, thinking not Alexander Vaughn is an asshole but oh god oh god oh my god oh god.
[1a. dex + firearms +3 (burst) -2 (split)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Danicka Musil] [damage! 4 + FUCK YOUR MOTHER]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Danicka Musil] [1b. dex + firearms -3 (split)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4) [WP]

[Danicka Musil] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 7, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[-bump-] (soak against 1 auto)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Genevre de Provence] ((Dex 2 + Firearms 2 + 3RB Diff 7 - 2diff point blank shot))((Add WP))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5) [WP]

[Genevre de Provence] Dam 4 + 1
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] The thing is unholy in its toughness. Despite bullet after bullet hitting its hide, the hound

just
keeps
coming.

(Let's reinit! Hound, +6!)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Genevre de Provence] 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[Danicka Musil] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[-bump-] Alex, +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Lonna Larson] (0+1d10)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[-bump-] Genevre
Hound
Alex
Danicka
Lonna

go!

[Lonna Larson] action!: 3rb on the thing

[Danicka Musil] [1a. 3RB on Fido
1b. -1WP, BB on Lonna]

[-bump-] Alex:
1a. This is fun! Stab to back of neck with chef knife.
b. Cleave again!

Hound:
1a. STOP STABBING ME. Bite!
b. STOP SHOOTING ME. Toss Danicka!

[Genevre de Provence] 1) shooting again 3RB

[Genevre de Provence] ((dex + fire + 3RB = Diff 7 -2diff for PB range)) ((WP again))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5) [WP]

[Genevre de Provence] Damage 4 + 1
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-bump-] Yelp!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[-bump-] ...until Genevre plants three bullets in its thick skull, anyway. The hound's head snaps back so hard it rears up, its huge body twisting once in the air.

Then it hits the asphalt on its side, motionless. There's so much mass there that the kin can feel the ground literally shudder on impact.

They get only a second's worth of respite before an inhuman shriek splits the night.

"THEY KILLED MY PUPPY!"

It's coming from above them. At the edge of one of the brick lowrises is a girl, perhaps 18 or 19, pouting. She clings to the sleeve of a tall gentleman whose coat and hat makes him look like a throwback to Chicago's gangster era.

"POOPSIE, THEY KILLED FIDO. THEY KILLED HIM. LOOK."

The man beside her sighs the sigh of the longsuffering. "Yes, darling, I see that. But I told you, if you let him off his leash like that, he'll get hurt one day. Didn't I tell you?"

"BUT POOPSIE--"

"No buts. Come on now. Let's find you another one."

The girl's face lights up. Her mouth splits open. The smile is an obscene mockery of delight, all sharp teeth.

"REALLY, Poopsie? Which one?"

The gentleman looks over the edge at the kin below. "Pick one," he says.

The girl -- well, she looks like a girl, anyway, until she vaults over the edge and falls, falls, lands in a coiled, compact, effortless crouch. Her eyes are totally black, insectoid. She looks from one kin to the next.

Then she begins to chant:

"Eenie, meenie, miney, moe..."

[-bump-] (one free round while the two are talking to make whatever preparations you like!

also, everyone roll 1d10.)

[-bump-] (alex)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Genevre de Provence]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Lonna Larson] (ohgod!)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Danicka Musil]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Danicka Musil] Danicka starts to lower her gun when the hound goes down. She's breathing heavily from terror, from preparation. Her arms are already sore. She jerks when the shriek hits her ears, whips her head -- and, notably, her firearm -- around, though the barrel doesn't point straight at the girl until she sees those sharp teeth. And then she just bolts towards Lonna, reaching into her purse and taking out something wrapped in cellophane.

"You're okay," she says to Lonna, the woman whose intestines are currently showing and who -- even so -- went on shooting. Danicka lays the bloody bandage, black and dried, across her midsection. "You're going to be fine. But you need to get up."

A hard rush of air leaves the Lord kinswoman's lungs right as the bandage starts to glow faintly blue, sparking with bits of silver that turn black as they die out, like candles extinguishing themselves when the wick and the wax are diminished too far to be of any use. The bandage feels like rage when it shudders, unravels, and then disperses into nothingness. When the glow has faded, all that's left are -- well.

Lonna's midsection is still a mess. But it's far less of one, now. Danicka stands up, rolls her shoulder, gun still in hand. She goes over to Alex and hands him a pair of thin darts, speaking fast. "You have to get up close anyway. Focus on these and jab them wherever you can. You'll have three seconds, maybe, where they won't be able to react while you chop them the fuck up. Okay?"

She doesn't wait for an okay. She lifts her gun and aims.
[-1WP, BB, +3Health to Lonna]

[Genevre de Provence] The dog finally drops, and as she listens to the strangeness of the girl and man, she pulls out a fresh clip, her spare, and switches them out. Leaving the half clip in her coat pocket so she can get to it faster. Her eyes staying on Mantis-girl.

[Lonna Larson] Lonna Larson always expected that, if her life was a horror movie, she would be the first to go. She sits up as best. she can, though it doesn't quite work. Everything hurts. There's blood everywhere, and she's starting to feel incredibly lightheaded.

She shoots anyway.

Danicka rushes over, and within a moment her midsection isn't quite as disgusting. She's okay, Danicka says. She's going to be fine, but she needs to get up.

The blonde has no qualms with it, and she is on her feet quickly.

"Anyone parked close? We gotta get the Hell outta here," it's all the advice and forethought she has to offer.

[Lonna Larson] (close that tag!)

[-bump-] While Danicka is handing out talens, Alexander is staring at her.

"What are you, Mary Poppins?"

And then, to Lonna: "My bike's a block away, but that doesn't help the rest of you much."

--

"...catch a tiger by the toe.
If he hollers let him go.
Eenie meenie miney ... moe."

Her finger points at Alex for an endless second.

Then:

"My, mommy, told, me, to, pick, the, best, one.
And, that, is, Y ... O ... U."

She's pointing at Lonna. And then she squeals in delight, jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

The gentleman leaps down behind her. He lands as she does, effortlessly, catlike in balance. And he shrugs apologetically at the kin.

"You heard her."

(inits!)

[-bump-] Alex +7!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Danicka Musil] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Lonna Larson] 3+1d10
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[-bump-] Darla +6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] P. Sherman +5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Genevre de Provence] 5

She glanced over her shoulder, and took a quick look. "Zee red one" A gesture to the red Volvo 3 cars up across the street.
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[-bump-] (init order:

Alex
Danicka
Darla
Genevre
P Sherman
Lonna

For the record, I'm going to say Genevre's car will take a full turn for most people to reach (doing nothing else). If you split your actions 50/50, it's two turns to get there; if splitting 33/33/33, it's three turns, and so on. It'll take an additional action for Genevre to unlock it, and then 1 each to get in.

Declare!)

[Lonna Larson] action! 3rb for Miss Darla (Sorry Darla!)

[-bump-] P Sherman:
1. Evil Powerz, Activate!

[Genevre de Provence] 3RB at Sherman

[-bump-] Darla:
1a. Grab Lonna
b. Evil Powerz, Activate!

[Danicka Musil] She doesn't look at Alex when she answers him, staring down the street. "I used to be a governess, actually," she says. "Not a nanny." Like it matters. Especially right now.

"I didn't drive," she adds to Lonna, and fires at P. Sherman. She's getting tired. They're not even half done and she's tired. She would wonder if she should run, if it weren't for the fact that she's too focused on what she's doing.
[1a. 3RB on Sherman]

[Lonna Larson] (changing action to this: dodge Darla like a mofo]

[-bump-] Alex:
1. Jab Sherman with dart! -WP to activate talen.

[-bump-] Rolling it like a knife, since it's in his hand! +1 diff for unwieldy knife.
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 6, 6, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Danicka Musil] [dex + brawl + 3 (burst) // diff -2 (pointblank) -2 (partially immobilized target)]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 2, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 3)

[Danicka Musil] [damage. 4 + 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] Alexander doesn't know what he's doing. He's never handled a talen before. But when the tall man comes sailing down, and when all the kin line up their beads on him, he doesn't think twice.

The Glass Walker leaps in and jabs the dart into the tall man's side. As though struck by lightning, his spine arches and his head flies up, eyes staring emptily skyward.

Three seconds. The kinswomen unload.

(soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] Darla: grab! -2
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Lonna Larson] Eyees widen, her heart pounds, and all she knows is that she does not want this spoiled brat of a whatever she was touching her. Lonna intended on getting out of the way

(dex3+dodge2= 5 - 1 (oww) = 4)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]

[-bump-] Quick as the preying mantis Genevre thinks of her as, the girl strikes at Lonna --

-- but the blonde dodges. Easily.

Shrieking with vexation, the girl tries again.

(b, changed action! -3 dice, +1 diff.)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Genevre de Provence] ((dex 2 + fire 2 + 3RB / diff 7 - 2 diff (point blank - 2 immobilized target))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 3)

[Genevre de Provence] Damage 4 + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] (Action order:
Alex
Danicka
Darla
Genevre
Sherman
Lonna

declare while i quick-recap!)

[Lonna Larson] action: stomp on Darla's instep (poor Darla)

[Genevre de Provence] 1) SHooting Mantis girl now 3RB

[-bump-] This time, Darla gets a fistful of Lonna's hair. The girl's strength is nothing to write home about, but her tenacity is alarming. Like a piranha on a victim, she just doesn't let go.

"Lets," she hisses, "make you a little prettier."

Meanwhile, the others fire on Sherman again and again. Bullets riddle his wool coat, his felt hat; for all that, only Genevre manages to wound him -- and then, only grazingly.

Seconds tick by. Awareness is coming back into his eyes. For the first time, his longsuffering weariness melts into something else, closer to true irritation.

"Insects," he snarls.


[Sherman declare: 1. ACTIVATE EVIL!]

[-bump-] [Darla declare: 1. ACTIVATE EVIL!]

[Danicka Musil] [1a. 3RB on Sherman
1b. 1 shot]

[-bump-] [....on Lonna, that is. Sherman's just powering up something evil.]

[-bump-] [Alexander: 1a. Get behind Sherman
b. Kidney stab!]

[-bump-] a. move!
b. -3 dice, -2 diff.
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 2)

[-bump-] dam +3!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-bump-] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Danicka Musil] Even as she fires, Danicka is counting, chanting in her head like a nursery rhyme. Seven to go, seven to go, seven to--

Go.
[1a. dex + firearms + 3 (burst) -2 (split) // diff -2 (point blank)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5)

[Danicka Musil] [damage! 4 + 5]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Danicka Musil] Four to go, four to go, four to --

Go.
[1b. dex + firearms -3 (split) // diff -2 (pb)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 4)

[Danicka Musil] [damage! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] (this will be followed by a short post)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[-bump-] Darla's eyes are bottomless pits.

They hold Lonna's as her thin hand holds its grip on her hair. The girl's other hand comes up and grasps Lonna around the throat, viciously.

The sensation that follows, rippling out like a shockwave from that pitiless grasp, is like nothing Lonna has ever felt before. Radiant pain shocks through her very bones -- literally. Her skeleton pops and cracks, and then her skin splits.

Spires of bone, bloody still from their sudden eruption, rear from her shoulder girdle; curve from her knuckles; jut from her elbows. Darla's shrieking laughter rings in her ears.

(soak 2 lethal, Lonna!)

[Genevre de Provence] ((Curve the bullet!!!))

((dex 2 + fire 2 + 3RB / diff 7 - 2 diff (point blank))((WP))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) [WP]

[Lonna Larson] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Genevre de Provence] Damage 4 + 4
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-bump-] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 2 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] [this, too, will be followed by a short post.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7)

[-bump-] Darla doesn't laugh for long. Genevre's next shot hits the girl square in the shoulder, smashing bone, tearing flesh.

The wound doesn't bleed.

The impact drives her back, though, slams her against the brick wall. She slides down in an untidy heap, dazed, Lonna slipping from her grasp.

Her companion snarls in fury, lips peeling back from his teeth. They all see it: his canines long and sharp, translucent white like those of a viper's. And then shadows devour him alive. Where the man once stood is a column of living darkness, writhing and sentient.

[Lonna Larson] Oh that. was. It.

The blonde one, bloody, warped, and ultimately displeased, turned and looked at Darla. She was a vengeful little thing.

"I'm pretty the way I am, thank you."

(actions!
1a: punch! -2
1b: 3RB for Darla)

[Lonna Larson] (oh, wait, just a 3RB, she doesn't have the dice to split)

[Lonna Larson] (dex3+firearms2+3rb= 8 -2 (oww!)= 6, diff.. something)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 9 [WP]

[Lonna Larson]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] (init order:
Alex
Danicka
Darla -- Stunned
Genevre
Sherman
Lonna

Declare in reverse while I recap!)

[Lonna Larson] Action: she's stunned, may as well finish the job!
get in point-blank-range for Darla, aaaand shoot.

[-bump-] Darla stares at Lonna stupidly as the child of gaia -- badly injured but pissed as hell -- blows another hole in her chest.

That one doesn't bleed either.

Then the column of shadow and wrath, howling like nothing human, moves. Fast as light. Fast as darkness. It gets between Lonna and the girl, protecting her. Tendrils of darkness, agile, dimensionless, like countless ropes of gossamer, lash out.

[Sherman, reflexive:
-1 blood point. Heal for 1L

Leftside tendrils:
1a. Disarm Lonna
b. Initiate Clinch on Genevre

Rightside tendrils:
1a. Grab Danicka
b. Bash against wall!)

[Genevre de Provence] 1) 3RB HEAD shot @ Darla

[-bump-] [Darla: stunned]

[Danicka Musil] [1a. Dodge
1b. 3RB on Sherman]

[-bump-] [Alex: 1a. I ATTACK THE DARKNESS (stab!)
b. MOAR. (stab!)]

Furthermore: if your character has NEVER seen Obtenebration 4, roll permanent WP vs diff 8 to prevent succumbing to terror. If you fail this roll, you must try to flee instead.

If you have Gall, roll at diff 6.

Alex's WP roll -- ]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Lonna Larson] [OMG WTF?!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Genevre de Provence] ((WP))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] a. stab -2!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 6 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[-bump-] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] b. Stab -3!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 6, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 4) Re-rolls: 2

[-bump-] dam+3!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-bump-] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Danicka Musil] [1b. 3RB // diff -2 (pb)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Danicka Musil] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[-bump-]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] Alexander strikes at the seething darkness. Danicka's knives -- once gleaming, now wet with houndsblood -- sink again and again into

nothingness.

It does little. The same can't be said for Danicka's shots. Muzzleflash from the guns casts their shadows onto the buildings -- everyone's except the man-turned-darkness. Like a vampire of legend, the shadow itself casts no shadow. It does not bleed. It does not speak.

But it is capable of being damaged. Wounded.

Brought down.

Three bullets strike in quick succession, square-on, and the writhing tendrils of darkness seem to twist in on themselves; fall apart at the edges. Tattering, shattering, they spin apart --

-- the form of the man, revealed again, hits the wall beside his companion. Slides down.

He looks dead. He doesn't breathe. His skin is cold. But at least one of them here knows that if he were really dead, he would turn to ash.


[Darla: still stunned! Genevre, go!]

[Genevre de Provence] ((dex 2 + fire 2 + 3RB / diff 7 - 2 diff (point blank - 2 immobilized target))
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 3)

[Genevre de Provence] Damage 4 + 5
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Genevre de Provence]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-bump-] Darla: Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 2 (Failure at target 6)

[-bump-] One last burst of gunfire from Genevre drops all light of awareness out of Darla's eyes. She slumps beside the tall man, apparently lifeless.

[-bump-] [back IC!]

[Danicka Musil] She's shaking now. Her backbone -- never what she's been known for, at least before Chicago -- feels chipped away at, bent out of shape, weakened. Danicka has one bullet left in her gun, and she doesn't carry extra clips. She's never exhausted even one before. Why would she carry extras?

But she knows she has one. One. And she knows what these things are.

When the others are faced with massive black tentacles of shadow writhing about in the street, Danicka thinks only Oh, god. and it's a resigned, exhausted sigh of blasphemy even in her own skull... rather than a scream of terror resonating around her head. She doesn't lower her firearm but squeezes the trigger once, twice, three times in quick succession, praying. She prays, sometimes.

And it does the trick. Finally. Danicka lets out a noise that's not quite relief, nor is it anywhere close to triumph. She is breathing heavily, her chest moving with each pant, and her arms are still locked to keep the gun at the ready.

The girl falls, and Danicka walks immediately to the fallen man. She bends at the waist, presses the barrel of the gun to his head, and unloads one last bullet into the bloodsucker.

[Genevre de Provence] It took a few moments for Genevre to lower her gun. She wasn't shaking, or fearful, or the like when one took a life. It almost seemed as though, this wasn't the first life she ever took. She slowly pocketed the gun in her coat. "Why iz it when I go out, some kind of bullzhit like zis always 'appens?"

[Lonna Larson] She has no idea what this is. She has no idea what they are or what they could do [she has an inkling though, and that was enough]. She could handle quite a lot of things, but this was not natural by any means. She is furious... and when the fury and anger and indigation settled down...

She caught a look at her knuckles, her shoulders, the blood that was everywhere and daring to make her get sick to her stomach. Lonna looked pale, and now that her adrenaline was daring not to pound too heavily, her hands were shaking...

"ohmigod..." is the only thing she can think.

Ohmigod. ohmigodohmigodohmigod fix. it. now

Breathe, Larson. Right?

"I think I'm gonna be sick..."

[Genevre de Provence] She moved over to Lonna. "Come, we take you to.." She had to think for a moment then grumbled. "We take you to Theron. 'E will fix you, 'opefully."

[-bump-] The bullet does nothing.

But the spark -- the fire bursting from the muzzle, point blank; the ignited gunpowder coughing out onto the bloodsucker's temple --

it catches. Like sparks to paper, lightning to tinder, it burns, sudden and hot and unbelievably fast. A rim of fire spreads, orange and furious, licking from one monster to the other. Behind it, flesh and bone, a century old or more, crumbles away to ash.

In seconds, the man and the girl are gone. Ashes blow away on the wind, speckling white snow with grey.

--

Kinfolk live a rough life. They get jaded fast.

A few months ago, Alexander fought against fomori for the first time. He was terrified. Tonight, facing the hound with the bone spikes and the muscles and the teeth, he thought mainly about how to kill it. Where to strike. How to angle the knife.

And then he saw a man turn to darkness.

The knives are shaking in his hands, splashing shards of light in all directions. He's panting, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. His helmet is forgotten in the gutter.

"What the fuck was that?"

[Danicka Musil] "Leech," is all Danicka says, and this is to Alexander Vaughn.

She's stepping back from the fire, and she's still trembling. And shudders when she looks over at Lonna. "Oh god. Lonna, I'm sorry."

As though she could have stopped that.

[Genevre de Provence] She was pulling off her coat to put on Lonna's shoulders. "Zat was our life, mon ami."

[Lonna Larson] In a moment of morbid fascination, the blonde perks up with a half of a laugh, "hey, look, they're self cleaning. We don't have to do anything."

Ashes scattered to the winds, and she shudders. The blonde is genuinely horrified. It comes across in her speech- shakey, uncertain, quiet, and the way that she is holding onto Genevre's coat for dear life.

"I'm fine," is the only thing she can get out, for her own benefit as much as anyone else's. "We... we... we need to go. We need to go now."

[Genevre de Provence] She took Lonna by the arm. "I take you to Theron. 'E should know 'ow to fix zis." And started for her car with Lonna in tow.

[-bump-] Alexander just gives Genevre a look: equal parts disbelief and disgust. "What the fuck?" he says, and then turns back to the blonde. The one with all the spikes. "Let's go. Think we can get someone to ... help her? Push her goddamn bones back in under her skin?"

[Danicka Musil] The Shadow Lord kinswoman -- who has been, at turns, mistaken for a member of a great many other tribes, and not just by Mr. Vaughn over there -- looks at the Fang and the Gaian with a concern she's never shown for others after one of these skirmishes. She looks at Genevre. "She needs to be taken to her tribe. If you don't know a Child of Gaia, take her to the Brotherhood and flag down the first one of them you see. Someone will know a Theurge."

Her eyes go to Alex as she's staring to put her gun away. She swallows hard. "Would you mind giving me a ride home?"

[Genevre de Provence] She shoo'd Alex off. "You go. I will 'andle Lonna. I will take 'er to mon pack's zeuge. Now shoo." Being all Fangy at it.

[Danicka Musil] "Genevre," Danicka snaps. "It hardly matters which Theurge it is. Find someone, for god's sake. But shut up and go."

[Genevre de Provence] *takes Lonna to the BH*

[Lonna Larson] People keep talking about taking her to her tribe. The blonde, however, doesn't seem to be taking this well. Of course, she's taking it just fine for a moment, then the realization of something seems to be sinking in and she's reminded of something else and things build and build and-

Genevre was taking her to the brotherhood. No panicking.

[-bump-] Fang and Coggie head toward the red Volvo. Alexander watches them go, trying not to stare too hard at the bone spikes.

"No problem," he says to Danicka. "It's this way."

[Danicka Musil] [intelligence. is there any chance you even remember?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 3, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Danicka Musil] There are shopping bags on the sidewalk. Williams Sonoma. Crate and Barrel. Pottery Barn. They are left right where they are, as the rather pale woman in the black coat -- which has ash on it now, and Lonna's blood on the cuffs -- and the cheerful green hat walks over to Alexander Vaughn with a small nod, gun in purse now. She shoulders the bag and nods. She doesn't even notice the shopping bags, it seems. Or maybe she just doesn't care.

"It isn't far," Danicka assures him, as though this makes much of a difference with a dead dog-monster's body behind them and a cloud of ash stirring up and vanishing. She stops, though. "Oh."

And looks at the dog, then Alex. "I don't want to deal with this," she confesses. And then: "One moment."

An iPhone, sleek and shining, comes out of her coat pocket. She doesn't call anyone. She sends a text, and then nods to Alex. "Alright."

Her address is given, and she doesn't shy from quite literally clinging to him once they're on his bike, all the way to Kingsbury Plaza.

[-bump-] "Hey, you forgot your stuff," Alex calls. If she doesn't go back for them, he does -- muttering the whole time.

It's probably a good thing she doesn't live far. The Buell's saddlebags are small on a good day; its storage space is miniscule with a passenger on board. It's possible she'll have to leave some things on the curb.

The knives, maybe.

They get there, though -- Alexander riding not so fast as he would in better weather; under better circumstances. The kinsman's body is stocky and solid, a compact, dense bundle of meat and bone. He shrugs her back if she leans against him so heavily he's in danger of losing his balance, but given who this is, and her approximate mass, this is unlikely.

At the foot of her building Alex stops, sitting back as she gets off the back of the bike. She's at the glass doors when he suddenly calls her back.

"Hey!" Irony: it's the same words. "You forgot your stuff."

He's holding the second dart out to her, shimmering between gloved fingers, faintly green-black in the sodium lights.

[Danicka Musil] "Oh."

Danicka does indeed turn back to get her bags, folding paper around items inside to shove them into the saddlebags. Her trembling is dying down. She'll have to be reminded again when he gets to Kingsbury Plaza, perhaps, to take her stuff back out. She didn't shake when she was firing. She just lets it all hit her now, in the aftermath.

She's ridden on the back of a motorcycle before. A few times. A lot of times. And she does need to be reminded of the talen, if not the bags from the places she chose to shop at today. Her hands have Lonna's dried blood on them when she turns on her heel, walks back, and takes the dart back.

"Thank you," she says. No words about keeping it, or about doing a good job out there tonight. She does look at him for a moment though, and her parting shot is just: "You'll be hearing from me."

She goes in. Home. Or something like it.