Showing posts with label luana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label luana. Show all posts

Friday, September 17, 2010

potluck.

[Danicka Musil] When the subject of where people were going to sit down and eat came up, it wasn't that Danicka had been confused about the question; the concept of a dining table isn't new to her. It's just that she doesn't have one. And she had no intention of buying one solely for an evening at home with supposed Family, one that would have to be rented and given back or left someplace in the middle of her expansive, curving living room. She'd finally decided that the Shadow Lords of Chicago could eat where she and her multiple roommates and her mate ate

(which is to say, wherever they could find a seat and a nearby flat surface)

or they could just stand there and be awkward, if they preferred. There's no real dining room in 23-C, Kingsbury Plaza. There's the cushioned teak chairs and the small table between them out on the little balcony. There's the rather enormous square black coffee table between the couch and the flatscreen, and that couch could comfortably seat four or sleep two without needing to unfold (which it doesn't, anyway). There's the barstools over by the kitchen counter. There's a couple of leather chairs and a circular glass table between them; they overlook the city, the river, the startling view from Danicka's apartment.

One can understand why she never bought curtains for that wall of glass that makes up almost the entire eastern half of her apartment. At this time of evening the light isn't harsh; she can apparently afford the air conditioning when it is. The sunset is behind them, and the view is all gold and dusky twilight as one by one, two by two, however they arrive, the Shadow Lords come to the residence of a kinswoman to whom this

-- 'this' being willingly opening the place where she lives to fullbloods of the tribe --

would have once been unthinkable.


It's easy enough to get there. The building is tall and gleaming. The doorman balks a bit at folk like Dimitry and Aanon and Edwin and Mila, but at least they aren't as bad as that beast of a man who suddenly has a key now. They're all buzzed in through the intercom; they all ride twenty-three floors in the elevator. They all turn east and cross plush, elegantly patterned carpet and numbered doors to find apartment C. They all are greeted with a smile and told to make themselves at home by the same woman who looks like she's in her late twenties or early thirties, wavy blonde hair held off her face by two small clips on each side, green eyes murky and amber-flecked. She's in socked feet; there are a few pairs of shoes by the door in the entryway.

The whole place smells richly of food, but it's no secret: the kitchen is open, faces the living room, and anyone who wants to can peek in on what they're being served tonight.



[Layout of Danicka's place here: http://www.chicagodusk.com/index.php?jove=gallery&picture=6648]

[Mila Davis] Mila arrived at the appointed hour. She looked quite well put together tonight, actually - apparently she could manage to dress up if she wanted to. The dark haired lone trueborn female Shadow Lord wore a short black dress with a v cut front, a set of black pearls and a pair of zebra print heels. Her hair was curled and pulled back, out of her face.

She'd arrived with a pie - peacan in fact and it looked as if it was homemade. She'd set it down in an appropriate spot which Danika would approve - helped herself to a glass of some sort of alcoholic beverage and then claimed a spot on the couch as she waited for the rest of the family to arrive.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Some of those pairs of shoes in the entryway are significantly larger than the others. There's a pair of loafers that straddle the line between dress and athletic; a pair of running shoes. Two pairs of skate-inspired sneakers, one considerably more scuffed than the other, and they're all far, far too large to go on the kinswoman's feet.

They belong, of course, to the Ahroun who's currently in the kitchen, crouched down, peering through the oven glass at ... whatever might be in there. When he introduces himself, his name has suffixes: Alpha of this, that, and that. This doesn't seem like a formal meeting with an agenda, though. There was none appended to whatever invitations may have gone out; no mention of Rites and whispers and plots and plans and challenges.

Casual. That's how Lukas looks. And: like he may have been helping to cook. There's flour on his hands, flour on the sleeves of his soft woven pullover. As the first of their guests begin to arrive, he stands up, dusting his hands on the seat of his jeans as he comes out of the kitchen to greet Mila.

"Hey. Good to see you again. Pecan pie, awesome. It'll go great with the vanilla ice cream in the freezer. Is your packmate coming too?"

[Mila Davis] She smiled warmly at Lukas' greeting. "Lovely home you and Danicka have.. and yeah, it's nice to see you again too - we don't do family stuff often enough. I'm glad we got to tonight."

"As far as I knew he was coming - but he wasn't home when I left the house. There's a note on the fridge incase he shows up there and forgot about it. I do hope he'll make it."

[Aanon Adolfus] Aanon dressed for the occassion. Black pipping charcoal suit from Lords of London, solid black dress shirt and silk tie to match. His fro done up in the beginnings of locks. Spiked but respectable in length. Though the gold earings and nose stud in his left nostral might have been better to go without. He wore them nevertheless.

A half case, wooden crate for six Don Que liters of Peurto Rican Rum were all he had brought, besides a single bottle of Spanish Merlot. If he were nervous he did not show it as he stood in the entry way, chocolate eyes gazing upon them all.

[Danicka Musil] When Mila gets there, there's no music playing. Danicka tips her head as she lets the Galliard in. "You didn't bring your guitar," she comments, though it's without judgement. "Over there," she says, when Mila inquires as to where the pie should go. Right on the bar. Right under the noses of any dessert-firsters who might decide to sit on the barstools to eat.

"There's wine over there, glasses in the cabinet above." The kitchen is small but Danicka's mostly over by the stove, and actually quite good at keeping herself out of the way when others are moving around her. She's provided a Barolo, but doesn't mention the Polish vodka, as though it's a treat to be brought out later. "There's beer in the fridge, too, if that's more your style." And there is. And plenty of it.

Danicka herself isn't precisely dressed up. Her slacks are cream-colored, hang low on her hips, and are on the loose side. Her top is lapis-colored, off the shoulder, but most of it is covered by the apron she's wearing to cook. She could put on heels and a little more makeup and go out in this, go out several fine places in this, but she wouldn't go clubbing in it. She is apparently comfortable enough to cook in it. Which she does, nudging Lukas aside with a bump of her leg so she can get back in front of the stove.

What's in the oven right now does not smell like much flour was used in it. Those are waiting over on one counter, covered with teacloths, waiting to bake after the lamb is done roasting. "What are you doing," she's murmuring to him as he's getting out of the way, "it's not like stalking it now is going to make it any deader."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I'm just hungry," Lukas replies in the same sotto-voce tone, the corner of his mouth hooking upward as he and his mate move around each other.

Mila assumes this is their shared home; it's not a surprising assumption, given the shoes by the door, the scent in the air, and one neither Lukas nor Danicka bothers to clarify. It'd be a long explanation, anyway. "Well," Lukas replies instead, smiling, "we'll be here all night, so he can drop by later on if he's busy.

"Hi," he's caught sight of Aanon: their first face-to-face meeting, unless they'd crossed paths at the moot revel. "New in town, aren't you?" He holds out his hands to help with the crate.

[Mila Davis] It was an easy assumption to make - they were mates, weren't they? Since her assumption wasn't corrected, nothing more was said on the matter.

"No.. no guitar tonight. I wasn't sure all of you enjoy my style of music - so best left without." She took a small sip of her aquired wine glass.

"Ah.. Aanon - welcome. I was hoping to see you this evening." A beat. "Lovely taste in wine." She grinned, one leg crossing over the other.

[Aanon Adolfus] That drew a raise of his brow. There were an easy going aire of eye, a sliver of a grin as he nodded then shook his head. "Si Senor..I mean..no. Sort of. What the hell, yeah. I guess so. Oh gracious.." Allowing Lukas the honors of taking the gifted case of rum. His other hand offering the bottle of Merlot as he stepped further inside their small abode, and for the 'lady' of the house. "A pleasure, I am Aanon 'Drinkwater' Adolfus..."

[Aanon Adolfus] "Mila..." With a curt nod in her direction.

[Danicka Musil] Her eyes do flick over at Mila when she says that Lukas and she have a lovely home. Her lips quirk slightly in a smile, as though she's pleased, or amused, or a trifle wry. She and he do seem at ease in this space together, even a space as small as the kitchen. She doesn't correct Mila. The difference is intuitive, anyway, and doesn't bear or need explanation.

There are indeed triggers to the senses of Garou that this place is shared. The smell of Lukas permeates this place almost as deeply as Danicka's scent, as though he spends as much time here as he does in his own room at the Brotherhood. A few of his shoes are by the door, but some of them were put in the hall closet where the only jacket that would possibly be necessary for September in Chicago also hangs. He acts like he lives here, but

why shouldn't he? This is his mate's residence. His mate, at least in the eyes of the Nation, belongs to him. Everything she owns belongs to him. On a very real level this is his territory as much as Danicka is.

There are other scents, too. There's a cat living here, and though no human nose could pick it up -- the place certainly isn't covered in cat hair or the reek of an ill-kept animal -- the Garou know it as soon as they come in. No sight of the thing, though. No dishes anywhere, no sight of food, no bed, no litter pan. Just the hint of a scent, telling their twitching noses that it's there. Somewhere. Being a ninja, no doubt.

She cooks while Lukas moves out of the kitchen with Mila and Aanon -- who Danicka briefly smiles at and shows where to put the copious amounts of liquor he brought -- and she does so quietly, as though

she knows her place. Even if this is 'her place'.

[Danicka Musil] [Whoops, misread. Addendum:]

Danicka briefly smiles at Aanon and shows where to put the copious amounts of liquor he brought, shaking his hand only for a second before taking it back so she can return to her work. "Dani&+269;ka Musil," she says, and leaves it at that. She cooks as Lukas and the others move out of the kitchen and she does so quietly, as though

she knows her place. Even if this is 'her place'.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The case of rum is easily lifted. That's what the Ahrouns are good for, isn't it? Heavy lifting. A strong back, a sturdy pair of arms.

"Lukáš," he replies over the top of the crate, "called Wyrmbreaker." He shifts the box onto one hip, grips Aanon's forearm in a brief warrior's clasp. "Interesting deedname. Can I ask what it signifies?"

The crate thumps heavily onto the kitchen counter, a few flakes of wood splintering off. The rum jostles gently inside. Lukas searches the drawers for something to pry the top off with, eventually coming up with a small hammer.

[Danicka Musil] The hammer, perhaps to Lukas's chagrin, has a soft pink grip. Danicka is giggling, her back to most of them, as she lifts the lid of a large stock pot and adds a generous sprinkling of rosemary.

[Mila Davis] Mm. Rum. This gathering might be really fun afterall. Mila stood then, and headed towards the bar stool area - where she could watch the men wrestle with the case.

[Aanon Adolfus] "It is, both life and death. For the thirsty drink deep. Fanatic and Rationale men. It is what I do. I fill your cup....of your making." With a slight inclination of his brow and head in deference to the elder before him.

A quick glance about the apartment and back upon Lukas and Danicka before sliding to Mila with a hint of joy. "You have a nice place. Quaint...personable. The Rum is from San Juan, I hope you find it to your liking. It is our Island's best." With that Riccan accent. Again glancing towards Mila as she resettled herself by the bar stool area.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Compliments should go to my mate," Lukas says -- and there the line is drawn after all. "It's her home, and she decorated."

They're a remarkably multinational gathering, just as the Lords are a remarkably multicultural tribe. The best and brightest and strongest -- that's what they're looking for, after all. Lukas is perhaps the most traditionally Shadow Lord of them all, his heritage a pure lineage straight out of central east europe. Danicka's bloodlines cross borders, but manages to be mostly Slavic. Mila's first name suggests something similar; her last name -- and her 'side job' in music -- suggests something far more Americana. And Aanon: even a hundred years ago, most the Nation would have mistaken him for a Strider. Or maybe a Bastet.

"Well," Lukas says of the rum, grinning, levering the top off the crate with a squeal of iron on wood, "let's get started on it, shall we?" He pulls a bottle out, handing it to Aanon. "Will you do the honors?"

[Aanon Adolfus] As Lukus speaks, Aanon inches towards Mila with a snicker. "Really it means only to Drink Deeply" Casting her a wink before turning. Pausing as Lukas asks if he'd do the honors. A nod and he grasps the offered bottle. But before he opens it, he sheds his suit blazer. Relaxing his shoulders before openning the Rum. Sliding it over the bar counter to rest alone for any to take on their own volition.

"And how have you been senora?" Turning back to Mila

[Luana Kirchmann] Luana arrives with Simon. After knocking on the door and coming in, she spies shoes and slips off her heels without being asked or even expected. It drops her down a few inches to her small height, leaving plenty to tower over her. She's carrying a platter with her, of fruits, cut and styled expertly enough that she's either a chef in the making or she's just purchased them. Its a platter that comes with some cheeses too and the strawberries are drizzled with hardened chocolate. Speaking of chocolates, there's a big box of those imported, top of the line things with one of those sticky box attached to the top. Simon's got some red wine that she purchased and asked him to carry.

"Hello!" she greets enthusiastically once she's actually in the door, looking a bit flustered. "Sorry that I am late. I have Simon with me." The woman is dressed in a black dress, enough straps to bare some flesh at the shoulder back but the rest of it rather modest. Her hair is bound up into a messy french styled roll and her make up is minimal. This wasn't too formal, after all.

"Here, these are for you." The box of chocolates is for the hostess of the house, Danicka, and if the woman isn't too quick to protest she also gets kisses on both cheeks and a warm smile.

[Luana Kirchmann] [sticky box = sticky bows attached. oh vey.]

[Mila Davis] "Ah.. well, I suppose. Likely better after sampling some of your fine rum." She quirked a small grin and finished her wine so that she could pour herself a small sample.

"Have you thought further on your place here in Chicago?" Likely Aanon would know what she was asking about there - given their previous conversations.

Her gaze shifted to the door - first to Luana whom she offered a welcoming smile.. and then a bit further back.. to her packmate. She just smirked.

[Aanon Adolfus] "Si, I have." A slow smile caressed his lips as he turned to view the two new arrivals.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [a sticky box would be rather suspicious.]

While Aanon deals with the rum, Lukas sets the crate back on the floor to make room for the potluck. "Luana. Simon! And together. Suddenly," he smiles, reaching to greet Simon with the same armclasp he'd given Aanon, "it makes more sense why you weren't with your Alpha.

"Have you guys met? This is Aanon, called Drinkwater. Aanon, this is Simon, called Bone-Grinder, Mila's packmate. This is Luana, one of our kinswomen. From Germany, I believe."

[Danicka Musil] "Tumblers and shot glasses are above the wine glasses," Danicka informs them, as rum is opened up behind her. She seems quite aware of what's going on, even when she's not looking. The pot she's stirring smells of garlic, of the rosemary she just added.

Here and there she has to pause in her cooking, or Lukas in his mingling, to go to buzz people up. One of these is Luana, coming up with fruits and cheeses and strawberries, another bottle of wine, a box of chocolates. Danicka actually wipes her hands on her apron to help the other woman carry all of it in, laughing lightly at Luana's enthusiasm.

"D&+283;kuji," she says, indulging in the kiss-kiss greeting that's given with a sparse reciprocation. If she thinks it overly familiar, she doesn't speak up to say so. "Thank you," she repeats, as though the Czech came more naturally to her, this time, than the English.

Danicka steps back and starts pointing to empty spots on the counters, which are getting filled quickly. "Fruit and cheese there, wine there, dessert there. We'll share these," she says of the chocolates, and puts them up on the counter beside the case of rum. "Lukášek, p&+345;ijít ochutnat jehn&+283;&+269;í"

It's a mild rudeness, to use the language only a few of them present know how to speak, but it also draws a firm (if otherwise invisible) line: whose home this is. Whose rules apply. What is kitchen-speak, and what is public. What is private, and perhaps a bit tender, and what is meant to be accessible to all. Even Simon, understanding the language, knows an endearment of someone's name when he hears one. That single line is Family Talk. There will not be much of it, if any more at all, during the evening.

She's grinning as she unties her apron, tossing it... anywhere, really, onto some unused portion of counterspace.

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon had offered to help Luana with things but apparently she had everything so... Well at least he could carry the wine! See how useful Full Moons can be? There was an air of pride and certainty surrounding the young man as he entered the room just behind Luana.

He saw that shoes were not allowed and naturally joined Luana in removing them though this didn't make him any smaller. He was still the relatively large imposing creature he always was.

He was wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans and the tattoos on his arms were left in full view though partially covered up by the fact he wore sleeves tonight. He kept himself quiet as introductions were exchanged, and when Luana and Danicka were through saying their hellos he would present her with the bottle."It's umm... French... Er... I dunno... Maybe it's Spanish? Umm... It's some kinda grape! I'm not racist so I don't care if a Grape is from France or Spain but some people might!"

[Luana Kirchmann] The foods go where they're asked to go, and she leaves Danicka to the kitchen with another smile and; "You're welcome." Soon after she's swept up into introductions, looking from Lukas to Aanon, who looks as far from a Shadow Lord that she can imagine.

He gets a smile, after a quick huff at Lukas and side glance. "Austria," she corrects, though it's hard to tell with the accent anyway. A hand is extended to the dark skinned Lord, who she is looking at openly curious from her shorter height. She's a petite woman. "Good to meet you Drinkwater."

[Luana Kirchmann] Mila is not forgotten, she spied the woman while the men were talking around her and introductions were given, and for now she gets a smile and a small nod of her head in greeting. Her attention drifts immediately back to the unfamiliar face whom she's currently standing with.

[Mila Davis] Mila had just been quitely watching the interactions between them for the last few minutes. No, she didn't understand what Danicka said.. but perhaps it's time that Simon teach her. It seems as if it might be a little necessary here.

[Aanon Adolfus] Aanon accepts her hand. A scraping noise heralds from beneath his sleeve as gives her a simple shake. A bracelet? "Hola Senora" Deep were his voice, chocolate hues seemingly swallowing her whole as he took stock of her. Though as he let his hand slip from her own, he nodded only to Simon who'd he'd met before.

"We've met"

[Aanon Adolfus] [sorry, wasn't refreshing]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Oh boy," Lukas murmurs, grin crooked. "Austria. Please forgive the insult."

He pours himself a glass of rum, then, and this alone sets the tone for this affair: casual, casual, casual. If it weren't, he'd pour for the guests first. Or perhaps Danicka would. She's stirring the pot, though, and telling him to taste the lamb, and he carries his glass over to the oven and slips on oven mitts -- silly quilted ones decorated in some cheerful color scheme or other, and opens up the oven to examine the lamb.

"It's so ready," he says. "Let's serve it before I 'taste' it all into my stomach."

[Mila Davis] Mm.. rum. Her empty wine glass was good enough to pour a little sample into. So, she took the bottle and poured a few sips before setting the bottle back down for all to partake in.

"Dinner smells wonderful.." She commented as she eyed the oven and whatever was cooking in it, or resting atop it. She was starving and the smell was making her mouth water. Good thing there was liquor to hold off the urge to dash into the kitchen to steal a piece.

[Luana Kirchmann] Unlike others, there's not an ounce of breeding in the Kinswoman. If not for Lukas stating she was one of theirs, she would be easily overlooked as just another human - helpful, no doubt. It also means she's had to earn her keep.

A glance over to where Lukas vanishes, and Mila too, before a quick glance up to Simon and back to Aanon. Since she's still standing there and he hasn't fled elsewhere she decides to stay and chat. "Where are you from?" Her question is direct, like the way she looks up at him. The tone is quieter, laced with an accent quite different to his.

[Luana Kirchmann] [brb. sorry visitor turned up.]

[Simon Zahradnik] He had already met both Anon and Lukas so he didn't need any introductions. Though all within the building would receive a nod of his head in greeting. A friendly greeting from one Shadow lord to another. Though he had hoped there were more Shadow lords than this in such a massive city. Then again less Shadow Lords means less fighting and killing one another so perhaps this was a good sign?

His attention soon enough slips back down to Luana and then back up to Aanon, curious himself as to the anser. So why not stick around and find the answer out? Normally he was a little more Vocal but he hadn't had the chance to get started. Just wait and you'll see.

[Mila Davis] Mila caught Simon's eye after a moment.. and smirked. Likely, something went unspoken between them. She lifted her glass in greeting.

[Aanon Adolfus] "San Marco, Peurto Rico. My familie has had the honor of being one of the first Castillian Lords to make the journey to the new world during the Spanish Conquest of the New World. My wife whom unfortunately were not able to attend this evening and a few members of my extended familie" Obviously more kin "...have only recently made Chicago our home."

[Danicka Musil] Her oven mitts are most certainly not silly, and the pattern is quirky chic, not 'cheerful'.

Huff.

There's a fork near the oven for Lukas to snag a sliver of lamb to taste. Danicka is taking the large pot off the burner and turning off the heat under some others. She isn't bothering to put things in serving dishes; they can eat from the pots and pans, including the one Lukas is withdrawing from the oven. "Let it sit for a minute," she cautions him, even though he's reaching for a knife.

The way she moves about her kitchen isn't exactly 'bustling' nor 'brisk', but she has some grace, some efficiency of motion, intimacy in the space. Plates and forks and knives come out, serving spoons. "I think," she says, primarily to Lukas, "if you'll get lamb on the plates people can grab their own sides, yes?"

Yes.

Sides include the small red potatoes she was cooking just a moment ago, each one missing a stripe of skin from its midsection, each one cooked in olive oil and minced garlic with rosemary, drizzled with butter. Sides include a salad Danicka puts up on the counter. Sides include some green beans with hints of lemon and cracked pepper. And of course there's the fruit that Luana brought, the cheeses to pair with the multiple wines to choose from.

Danicka whips the teacloths off the baking pans and puts the kolache in the oven as soon as the lamb is done, sidestepping out of the way of her mate and her guests while the former starts carving up the roast beast.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Welcome to Chicago then," Lukas says to Aanon over the lamb -- and the breakfast bar. He's reaching for a knife. Danicka tells him to let it sit for a while, let the juices and heat finish redistributing. He says to her, an amused aside, "I was just getting the knives ready."

Which is, in fact, what he does: getting a carving knife and fork from the block, whetting one on the other with brisk, practiced strokes. Metal rings off metal. It's always a vaguely unsettling thing when Full Moons sharpen their weapons, but for what it's worth, Lukas's intent doesn't seem to be assassination over lamb.

"I could go through the whole spiel with you," he continues, addressing Aanon again, "but Mila could probably play the herald later on, if she's still interested in the job. The basics are simple enough: until you're in a pack, I'm your acting Alpha. You should get in a pack soon, though. Don't shame the tribe and don't act like one of those snivelling shortsighted selfish Lords, and we'll get along fine. Since you have a mate already, I don't think I have to worry about you getting in trouble with the kin, but -- treat them with what respect they deserve, and if they offend you, come to me. I handle the discipline."

He turns the racks of lamb to face the same way, then, and begins slicing between the ribs in groups of four. The leg of lamb he leaves covered and foiled a little longer, letting it sit as Danicka suggested.

"Come on," he urges the others. "Grab a plate. Grab food. Eat."

[Mila Davis] Mm.. yeah - she kinda already gave Drinkwater the rundown when she first met him.. but she did direct him to Lukas for the 'offical' tribe line. "I had mentioned that he may want to consider Dark Sky.. we are short a No-moon."

She was hungry - quite hungry actually. And thus, as soon as Lukas served himself, Mila was right behind him, dishing up a plate. And once it was full, she made her way back towards the breakfast bar and stools where she sat to begin to eat.

[Simon Zahradnik] His eyes slip back to Mila and a slight smile makes its way to his lips as he returns her gaze. His attention, however, quickly shifts back to Aanon."Give us the chance we'll thrive pretty much anywhere. Detroit, Puerto Rico, Chichago... I'm pretty sure we've got some South African Family though I've never been out that way to check. Rest assured where there are assholes there are Shadow lords."He says with a little laugh."So I'd imagine we're pretty much wherever people can be found."

The smell of food teases the senses and his eyes shift from his current focus towards the the food moving across the floor by sheer force of will. It was as if he didn't even notice Danicka was carrying it he was far too focused on the meal itself. Oh how delighted his eyes looked, and if he were a little more emotional his eyes might be watering as well as his mouth.

The Sight of Lukas armed implied to Simon that he would have to earn his meal tonight! Which wasn't a huge problem... Lukas might have experience on his side but he was older reflexes would be a little slower muscles beginning to atrophy when you're that old it's amazing you can still walk. So tonight it would be experience vs. youth... Or wait... He's inviting everyone to eat? Even better!

Simon's attention shifted to Luana. He wasn't gonna leave her here all alone despite the urge to race to the table and eat all the food before anyone else got any. Besides someone had to make sure to defend the kin so that she could eat in the event they tried to keep her from it!

[Aanon Adolfus] Aanon turns, gazing now at Lukas. One hand reaching for his suit blazer. A quick nod as the elder finishes his spiel. "I apologize, but I must regretfully retire for the evening. Tis a holy night among my people. I must join them in our ceremonies.....Mila, Simon. Till soon again Si?" A definate interest in just that as he gave an eye to each. Turning then to Luana. "A pleasure Senora" Stepping back from the counter, doning his blazer, his gaze went to the host and hostess. "Whyrmbreaker-Rhya you shall have no issues from I nor mine that shall tarnish our tribal name and until I am with a pack..I shall defer to you as you say. An honor to meet you both. Thank you all...and good eve" Backing away before turning to leave.

[Simon Zahradnik] He blinks when Aanon decides to Depart."Alright take care out there and look out for umm... Monsters. Like seriously the city is boiling over with 'em... You can't walk around Mag Mile in the afternoon on a Saturday stabbing randomly about with your knife without hitting either a monster or a random person."

[Mila Davis] Mila wished Aanon a good evening and continued to eat the delicious dinner. She flicked her gaze back to Simon.. and chuckled slightly. She shook her head just a little and took another bite.

{Alright ya'll - I gotta be up in 6 hours.. must get to bed. Mila will play nice and have dinner.. and go home eventually. Night!}

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (night!)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] A holy night, Aanon says, among my people. Lukas looks puzzled: he thought they were his people. There's no argument, though. "Take a rib," he calls -- whether or not Aanon does, he keeps carving until all are served with enough for seconds set out and ready.

"It's too bad the Krutova sisters couldn't make it tonight," he says then, loading his own plate last, picking up his rum and joining the others ... wherever they might be in the living room. "They were the ones that started this dinner party idea, and it's a good deal more pleasant than an all-out tribal moot.

"So," he sits on the couch, picking up fork and steak-knife to separate the ribs on his rack-of-lamb, "what's the story with you two?"

[Danicka Musil] Danicka, too, looks a little surprised when Aanon excuses himself. She glances at Lukas, but doesn't know the man, doesn't particularly mind one way or the other if he stays or goes. She smiles at him. "Thank you for the rum!" as he's going, and as everyone else is filling their plates. Simon's words make her cock an eyebrow, but then plates are full and she and Lukas are going to the couch to eat with rum and wine at hand.

"I think she meant to try and make it, but her schedule. And it wouldn't be much fun for Teodora on a Friday night," she adds with a twist of her lips, sitting down and sinking into the cushions.

"To which one of them are you giving the what-are-your-intentions speech?" she inquires of Lukas, as he asks Luana and Simon what their story is. She sounds more than a little wry, this time.

[Simon Zahradnik] Once he has a plate his eyes lower to the beast before him. His eyes were glazed with hunger, dripping with honey so sticky sweet, as he found himself something to drink and then a seat. He looked at first to Lukas and took the time to ponder the Question, as well as his answer, before looking back to Luana and then back to Lukas."Umm we came to the Dinner together I guess. She needed help with the shopping and I am not gonna leave a kin roaming around on a Friday evening all alone! Who knows what kinda creeps are out there right?"He smiles a little."Civic duty and all... Best we look out for one another."He adds.

"I know I'm not a galliard so I guess I'm not as good a storyteller as some. Still i can throw in some monsters and trolls if you like?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] That makes him laugh. So often, Lukas has a stern face: a way of speaking and regarding those around him that make others stand a little straighter; speak a little more formally. It's different when he's like this, when he's in the company of blood relatives, of good food, of his mate. Some Lords would consider that a weakness.

"I'll have you know I wasn't going to give that speech yet," he replies to Danicka. "I'm just curious. And being careful." He looks at Simon; Luana. "Chicago's got a reputation for being ... hm, a matchmaker city, let's say. You guys showed up together and I wondered."

[Danicka Musil] "'Yet'," Danicka repeats, for Luana and Simon's benefit, her eyebrows arching. She sips her wine, shaking her head at Lukas. "Such a busybody," she tsks, the sort of chiding -- however humor-driven -- that would get knuckles flying across her cheekbones from the sort of Lord Lukas is supposed to be. Is thought to be, by many. May have once been.

He snarled in her face once, thinking she was laughing at him. Mocking him. That was a long time ago, though.

[Luana Kirchmann] Food grabbed, a healthy amount that one wouldn't expect her to be able to eat, she's sitting in a spare seat with the plate balanced on her legs or settled down by the coffee table sitting on the floor - whatever works nearest to the other company.

Questions are asked about herself and Simon and she looks up, brows raised to look between Danicka and Lukas. "I don't think you need to be worried about giving that talk," she says in general. "I'm not planning on having children anytime soon." If at all. Which means, logically, she's not taking a mate. She had said as much when first meeting with Lukas.

"No offense, Bone Grinder." She flashes him a smile. "You're easy on the eyes and a proud warrior, but..." looking back to the others, bringing the fork of food towards her mouth, her eyes are gleaming, "definitely not that talk."

[Danicka Musil] "See," Danicka says to Lukas after Luana speaks up, "you're just being nosy."

She has her eyes on him as she puts a bite of lamb in her mouth, eyebrows arching. It's almost challenging, strangely enough. A little haughty. A little teasing.

[Simon Zahradnik] He was mostly eating through all of this. Young, healthy... And technically... Still growing! The full moon was delighted by the meat, it was sweet and tender and delicious. He was known to push himself a little harder than someone likely should during a work out and so it took a lot of replenishing to feed his bodies regenerative processes. Simon burned through energy like nobodies business and it was apparent that he still had a long way to go as far as filling out. Though even now he was already an impressive creature to behold.

They went about their conversation and Simon ate and ate and ate and ate. Then looked up to blink a few times."Oh yeah... Luana's not currently accepting applications for fathers so. Yeah nothing to worry about there."He says with a nod of his head."I mean even if she was I dunno if I'd be ready and all... You know kids are a bit of a responsibility right? And I am ir-responsible as hell! Nonononono! My job is to kill shit... One day when I am your age I might start thinking about leaving something behind. I mean sure I have great genes, strong, healthy, good looking so why not leave kids behind at some point. But the world isn't ready for my Progeny... Too much awesome all at once. At least let me slow down a little first."

[Simon Zahradnik] [Sorry it wasn't refreshing for me :( ]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [EMPATHEE!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6)
to Danicka Musil

[Danicka Musil] The meat is, in fact, juicy and delicious. Danicka's no chef but she's got a few dishes she can cook well. This is one of them. Of course it is. It hasn't been very long but already the smell of the baking pastries in the oven is filling the apartment: that's another thing she can do quite well.

She quirks a brow at Simon. "How old are you, Simon?" she asks.

[Luana Kirchmann] Luana laughs quietly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, fork still held in it, as Simon goes on and on. Apparently she finds him amusing and has no qualms about being open about it. It's not the laughing at him either, but with him. Her shoulders tremor briefly with the softness of the humour.

She looks between them as they talk, swallowing her mouthful and continuing to eat the food, which she really quite enjoys. The woman has a ferocious appetite and washes it down with some wine.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] They're all eating. Simon's perhaps the most buried in his food; Lukas has been working his way through his lamb, though. And his potatoes. He didn't even bother with the greens, if there was any.

No wine tonight. Rum. The stuff Aanon brought, which is quality. He's leaning back in his couch, and Danicka raises her eyebrows at him, and he considers her a moment and then -- at least there's this -- takes the time to wipe his mouth quickly before wrapping his hand behind Danicka's neck and leaning in to kiss her on the temple. Quick, but firm: the sort of display of affection he never would have permitted himself before.

Something about not flaunting her. As though she were a thing, a possession, something to snapped and growled over with his pack.

"I apologize," he says to Simon and Luana then, "if I'm prying. I suppose I'm trying to watch out for you, Luana, so I can be accountable to your cousin if necessary."

[Luana Kirchmann] Sobering a little, she looks to Lukas, eyes flicking up from her plate to regard him. "There is no need to apologize. If I get into some sort of strife, I have said that I would come to you. You have other things to keep you occupied, not fret over a Kinfolk capable of making adult decisions."

"Besides, Bone Grinder," here she throws the other Garou a quick smile, and back to Lukas again, "is entertaining company. Not some groping, sniffing dog looking to mount me from behind at whim."

"Unless you think he's a danger to me?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas's eyebrow quirks. "He's sitting right there," he observes lightly, and drops a stripped-clean lamb rib onto his plate. "Why don't you ask him?"

[Luana Kirchmann] "I don't have a problem with him," she answers mildly, popping another mouthful of food in.

[Simon Zahradnik] He grins a little back to her."Nineteen Ma'am... Still got a few years of growing left in me to go I'm told. I've been at this Garou thing since I was fourteen. I'd consider anyone who is old enough to kill to be an adult but by certain folks standards I am not even done growing yet."He nods his head.

"I mean I guess that's old enough to start a family but I still don't feel I am ready for that responsibility. You want me to smash or break things and I will do it... I mean your average soldier is my age right? So even among the rest of humanity I am old enough to handle pretty much anything that anyone else does."He was smiling and in many ways his persona resembled what one might think from your average young soldier. Foul mouthed, smart assed, and full of way too much energy and enthusiasm for his own damn good. After all the world was still a malleable shape-able thing in his eyes. He still had the glimmer of youth that implied the world was his to change and the thought that he still had his whole life ahead of him even if the grim realities of what he was took hold now and again.

He then chuckles a little when Luana speaks. He then turns his attention back to Lukas and he settles in his chair."I am a full moon... Which by default makes me a danger to my enemies. She doesn't look like my enemy so she's probably not in any danger!"

[Danicka Musil] Lukas grabbing her and kissing her temple seems to startled Danicka slightly. She blinks, but doesn't resist, her eyes flicking shut for a second as he presses his lips to her skin. He lets her go and she leans back again, sipping her wine. She eats more slowly than the rest of them. Smaller bites, chewed for a long time. It means that for the most part, she's a little quieter.

not some groping, sniffing dog

Her eyes move to Luana, her eyebrows drawing together slightly. Her eyes are still on Luana, but briefly skate over to Simon so she can add: "Lukáš isn't that much older than you, Simon," she says. "Not chronologically, at least. Though regardless, you're Garou; the responsibility of childrearing wouldn't exactly be on your shoulders. Protecting your mate and cubs, when necessary. But not raising them."

Danicka cuts a small potato in half. "Not," she goes on, "that I'm suggesting you should take a mate and start breeding. If you aren't ready, you aren't ready." Before she puts the bite to her mouth she looks at Luana again: "I'm glad you were able to come, but I'd appreciate it if you were a little less graphic at dinnertime." Her smile is thin, and twisting with wryness. "The imagery of my guests humping each other is more dessert talk."

[Jesmond Krutova] Indeed, she had intended on attending the dinner party.

And being on time, too. And, probably, not showing up at Ms Musil's apartment in her uniform with tired eyes and dark hair escaping the confines of its bun. She hadn't come empty handed, however. There was a Tupperware container under one of her arms with a particular potato dish requested from the hostess herself. It wouldn't be quite the same as if it were being served steaming on a plate with the rest of the meal; but it would make for inviting lunches.

A departing gentleman is nice enough to hold the door for Nurse Krutova as she steps toward one of the intercom bells and she gratefully swoops into the building; fussing helplessly at her creased uniform and her hair. She tucks several strands behind an ear, and catching sight of her name-tag, unclips it and hides it in a pocket.

There's a polite knock on the door, when she finds the corresponding number and when it swings open; the pretty Kinswoman is bashful, her voice apologetic. "I'm very sorry I'm so late, there was an emergency and I could not leave."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I'll get it," Lukas says at the knock on the door. "Need more lamb anyway." And then he's opening the door, and it's Nurse Krutova, and the Ahroun's face brightens. "Jesmond. I was just telling the others that these dinner parties were really your idea. Come on in, get some food. Lamb over here, sides over there. I'm just going to bring these stewed potatoes into the living room so everyone can have some.

"You've met everyone here, I think. You missed the new guy, Aanon; he had to duck out early."

[heads up folks -- i should head to bed in 30 min or so! alas, gotta work tomorrow]

[Danicka Musil] Danicka looks a little bewildered when there's a knock at the door, because she didn't hear the intercom go off. Maybe a neighbor. But they're not being loud. They're not even playing music, and Mila's excused herself after eating already. She puts her wineglass down as Lukas goes to the door, and when she sees who it is she gets up, heading that direction as well. Then, the apartment is gifted with a near-squeal:

"Jesmond!"

Danicka takes the container and hugs the older woman, beaming. "Come in. Come get a drink; someone brought a case of rum and we have something like three bottles of wine."

And the kolache are baking. And the lamb and potatoes and green beans are still hot and the salad is still crisp. She doesn't so much as flick an eye at Jesmond's uniform.

[Luana Kirchmann] "You're right," she had said to Danicka, "I apologize. That is why I bought the strawberries for after all." There's not much said after since someone knocked at the door. She finishes what is on her plate and sets the cutlery aside on the dish. A napkin is used to wipe her mouth as she glances over to the new arrival, and then over to where Simon is sitting quietly.

[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond was a modest creature, for all that she was slim and lovely, with fair skin and intelligent eyes. She carried herself with a air that suggested she was competent enough in what she could accomplish, but did not need or look for chances to boast of her successes; nor dwell long on her failures.

Her dark hair said much of her breeding, and the relative pleasure she took in being welcomed warmly by both her tribal Alpha and his mate said she was no stranger to the swell of Rage thriving around her. She surrenders her container to the Ahroun, and accepts an embrace from the younger Kinswoman hostess, her smile blossoming.

"Thank you, hello everyone," there's a general greeting and sweep of a smile and she's eying off the food. "Oh my, Danicka you've set me to shame, look at all this food. It's a pity I couldn't bring Teodora, she'd have had thirds and fourths. I don't know where she stores it, though. She's like a beanpole."

[Danicka Musil] [i may be around a little longer, too, but i'm pretty exhausted. so we should wrap up soonish. sorry, jacqui!]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "She works it off again," Lukas quips, sinking easily back into his spot on the couch, "by bullying unsuspecting Garou around. Luana, you've met Jesmond, right? She's a nurse."

Obviously.

[Jesmond Krutova] [aw, save your sorry! it's all good! i just wanted to have jezzy show her face :] ]

[Luana Kirchmann] Unfolding from where she's sitting, she stands up and brushes down her dress, smiling over at Jesmond. "We have, at the brotherhood," she confirms to Lukas.

"It's good to see you again Jesmond."

Picking up her plate from where she had been sitting at the coffee table, the napkin is swept up and placed on the empty surface to carry it in towards the kitchen. Her empty wine glass is picked up as well, taken along with her.

[Luana Kirchmann] [and since everyone else is bailing, I'm going to do the same and start some dinner. Thanks for the play.]

[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond's eyes crinkle at the corners.

"I do believe you're right, Lukas. Much to my horror, she's always been so. She tried that on my mate once when she was twelve, too. Eirik was hardly amused, and she hid behind my legs the rest of her visit."

Luana greets her, and Jesmond extends a hand, presses it over the other woman's briefly. "And you."

[Simon Zahradnik] Lamb... So much Lamb. He was going to suffer a lamb overdose at this rate. How much lamb can one man eat in one night? By the looks of it they were going to find out. Simon ate, quite literally, like a pro football player just after practice. Indeed the things he put himself through would easily rival the workout of any professional athlete. His eyes drit between Danicka and Luana at the mention of guests and humping. This put a smile on his face after all he didn't seem offended with the thought or image at all.

When Jesmond finally showed up he gave a smile and a wave of his hand. Though he was quick to return to his meal. Fiery eyes focused on the meal. If ever in his life he might actually claim to love anything ever in his brief existence it would have to be this delicious meal. If you could marry such a divine creation he would be the first to do just that. Unfortunately it would be a short lived honeymoon as his wife would soon find herself in his belly before the ceremonies were over!

"We need a galliard to tell stories about the tribe during these meetings. You know so we can bond and relate with the history of our people and all that."He says with a smile and a nod of his head."Ancient heroes who chose to stand against evil in all its forms. Daring to make harsh decisions that others lacked the strength and convictions to follow through with."He grins a little."I once heard this story about this Shadow Lord who was so awesome he Danced the spiral just to show the Wyrm how awesome he was."He nods his head."The end of the story isn't so cool but if you don't tell the ending it's an awesome story right? Like... Screw you Wyrm I'm better than you!"

[Danicka Musil] "Oh, leave it," Danicka tells Luana. "I'll clean up."

She's smiling as Lukas goes back to the couch, but her attention is on Jesmond. "You should come over sometime, just for coffee or something. What's this about Teodora bullying Ga--"

Simon stops stuffing his face long enough to speak, and Danicka blinks at him. "This isn't a meeting. Or a moot. It's dinner. And frankly, the last thing I want to hear about while I'm eating are tales of war and idiotic, bullshit heroism."

That word sounds so odd, coming from her: bullshit. Such a soft looking mouth in that sharp jaw, such a harsh word from such a rather tender face.

Quieter, then: "I'm sorry if I'm snapping at you. But I don't find stories like that funny."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas huffs a laugh. "I'd be more appalled and disapproving if it weren't for the fact that grown Garou are letting themselves be intimidated by a teenage girl," he says t Jesmond. "At that point, it's their problem, not mine. Still," he helps himself to a healthy portion of Jesmond's potatoes, "you should tell her not to bite off more than she can chew. Not all Garou take humiliation well."

[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond takes a small serving of almost everything and perches herself at a vacated seat, carefully slicing into her meal. Her hands are nimble which is no great shock given her line of work. They must be adept little digits for what she does day in, day out. For the children she has helped birth and the mothers whose bedside's she has tended.

She slips a piece of food into her mouth as Danicka speaks to Simon, and her cat green eyes (so easily mistaken for a darker shade of blue) glance between them. She swallows, and reaches for a glass of wine, sips from it to cleanse her palate. "I should come over, I don't socialize nearly as much as I once did. I suppose that I found with Eirik gone and Ari so far away," there's a pause; the brief skittering of still-held guilt.

"I just sort of slipped out of the habit of friends, and tribe."

She looks across at Lukas. "Teodora on the other hand, loves her tribe, she just mistakes her forwardness as bravery. I imagine if she'd been born true, she'd be quite fearsome."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "It is a sort of bravery, I think," Lukas says. "And more importantly, cunning. I think Teodora knows better than anyone who and what she can get away with bullying, and so she does. She's a Shadow Lord, after all." His smile is equal parts wry and genuine. "We can smell weakness.

"So, yeah. I think she would have been quite the terror were she trueborn."

Lukas is done eating. He sets his plate down, cleaned out, and leans back in the couch. He's comfortable now, pleasantly full, warm from rum. The apartment is filling with the scent of kolaches, which is arguably his favorite snack ever. He yawns: lazily, jawcrackingly, only making a perfunctory effort to cover his mouth. Then he crosses one ankle over the opposite knee, laying his arms out along the top of the couch.

"You should bring her along," he adds, "if you come visit Dani&+269;ka sometime."

[that's probably my last post tonight! thanks for the RP, folks :D i'll stick around for a few more min and then it's bedtime for me!]

[Simon Zahradnik] There were many things that Simon tolerated. In fact you could likely stab him in the stomach and he would keep smiling. He was just that kinda guy... He always found something to laugh about. It was either that or become twisted and jaded with the darkness one witnesses on a daily basis. He smiled a lot more than most Ahrouns, and often times lacked that serious formality. However one word was all that it took to wipe the smile clean off his face. His eyes met Danicka's own and there was a sharpness to that gaze that implied every second she was, in fact, speaking to a Shadow lord.

Then his lips quirked a little, a smirk, something far less pleasant appeared on his face."I like that... You know calling the deeds and actions of our people and your people bullshit. The way we throw ourselves like idiots into battle with you know wacky crazy monsters all because it seems like the cool thing to do at the time. It's funny..."He gives a soft little laugh."Cause somewhere out there right this very second there is an innocent man or woman screaming in the darkness wishing that some bullshit hero would whisk in and help her out. But you know all the bullshit heroes are here at your place having dinner."He says this all with a little grin on his face though his eyes, and tone speak with all the venom of a man who was somewhat offended."No don't worry it's fine. We don't really do much that's worth any note or mention or anything. Buncha idiotic, bullshit heroes doing a buncha idiotic, bullshit things."He settles back and chuckles a little then pats his stomach.

"Whew I am stuffed."He says."I really should be going. Thanks for the meal. Where do you want this plate?"He asks as he stands.

[Jesmond Krutova] Jesmond looks up at Simon, her expression neutral.

"I don't think she meant to offend the heroism of what you both," a glance spared Lukas, back, placid as a lake her tone, "do for us, our children and the world. I believe she just wishes to conserve the atmosphere of a dinner table. Sometimes 'work' ought to be left at the door with our shoes."

She smiles at Danicka. "Or so I think."

[Danicka Musil] Danicka doesn't bat an eyelash at Simon. She's happy to have Jesmond here. She wants to sit with her and have kolache and after-dinner coffee and lounge on the couch with her mate. Perhaps in a little while that's what they'll do, the three of them. She'll introduce Jesmond to her cat. But the night's already winding down. One by one the guests have trickled out, some of them not even staying for food. And now Simon has her attention.

It says something profound about how Danicka has changed that she gets looked at Like That by an Ahroun of the tribe and she doesn't duck her head, round her shoulders, and demure. Jesmond speaks up, and Danicka puts up a hand, shaking her head slightly before Jesmond can finish the soothing words. Her eyes are on the Ahroun. Maybe it's easier for her to do this with Lukas there, but still:

she's breathing more carefully, her heart rate so elevated it's almost audible, and she lets him finish. "Simon," she says levelly, and quietly, "a Garou of my tribe dancing the spiral because he thinks that will prove something would only be giving evidence that he's an idiot, and that his heroism is bullshit. I call it that because I know the end of that story is that the Wyrm would have yet another of our warriors who thought himself too badass to be corrupted, or just thought it was 'the cool thing to do at the time'. And that would be idiotic. And that wouldn't be funny.

"If you take from what I said that I think the actual fighting of the war, as opposed to the arrogant flaunting one's so-called bravery, is bullshit? Then you're an idiot, too, and more of one because you have no comprehension of who you are speaking to, or what I know of true Shadow Lord heroes."

A beat. Her voice hardens a bit. "Go to one of the Galliards and ask them for a tale of Night Warder, Summit's Lightning, Ender of Names, Breaks the Sky, Elder Ahroun of Thunder, who died when I was fourteen. Then ask yourself if I might just know a thing or two about the deeds of our people, and what is bullshit, and what is not."

Danicka takes a breath. "Put your plate down where you are and get out of my apartment."

[Danicka Musil] [agh, sorry for the wait! :\ i really need to sleep, too]

[Jesmond Krutova] [np! thanks for letting me pop my head in. :) ]

[Simon Zahradnik] The plate is placed where it is and he stands fast. Somewhere in there his attention would turn towards Lukas. Then finally back to Danicka."Good evening..."He finally says with a bow of his head and even more venom in his voice. Words were not something he could speak or deal with right now. There was only violence swimming in his head and his eyes. Only fiery bloodthirsty anger. Indeed the words he would speak would have been spoken before his elder, and to his mate. Rather than do so the only option left was simply to leave.

It only takes him a few seconds to make his way to the door and exit the room and soon enough the building.

Friday, September 10, 2010

potato juice at moots.

[Luana Kirchmann] There's a place like many of them along the Mile, where music is playing and drinks are sloshing. Tables and booths, lounge chairs up the back, and people coming and going through the opened doors. It's not as popular as those with lines out the front for hours, but it's already late anyway. Inside is dark, aside from the straying lights by the floor and the dim coloured rows edging around the walls.

It's more laid back then a ravers bar, and the drinks cost more then they should, but Luana's up the back lounging in an oversized chair that's meant for two, but she's sprawled across the whole thing, legs crossed and head resting on the arm. There's a drink with the base of it resting on her thigh,her fingers holding the top rim, spreading the palm over the opened surface. With her eyes closed she listens to the music, mostly unaware of the crowds moving around.

Dressed in poured on pants, some killer strap heels, and half a blouse under her black waist cinch corset, she looks every part the edged lifestyler that many with too much money and too little sense like to be. Her dirty blonde hair is some sort of weave that keeps it away from her features, the fairness of them faint in the dimness of the lounge corner overlooking the dance floor.

[Mila Davis] Mila was already four drinks into her night. Needless to say, it was going quite well. She'd had her own spot not all that far from the blonde woman taking up too much space. However, the difference was.. she'd found enough drunk people that they could simply ignore the tingling they got that Mila was much more dangerous than they appeared and her chair was near overflowing with people. {Danger? Drunk people -loved- Danger!}

She wore a strapless short black dress and a pair of zebra stripped heels. Her necklace was chunky and in the current style. Her dark hair was curled and messily pulled up in that sexy bed-head sort of way. Her makeup, as usual, was dark but wasn't out of place in this sort of bar.

An outburst of laughter errupted from Mila's current grouping and she just looked a little smug. Apparently, her storytelling skills were being put to good use tonight.

[Lukas] There was a time when Lukas came to these places for more than the ambiance and the company of packmates. They were a high-flying lot, the Unbroken Circle; Katherine and her money, Edward and his cards. It wasn't unusual to see them sprawled about a place like this. It still isn't unusual, but the difference is -- Lukas leaves alone at the end of the night, now. Or with his packmates. Or with his mate.

Neither packmates nor mate are anywhere in sight right now. Lukas looks like he's just finished having a discussion with a dark-haired, slightly smarmy looking fellow over near the bar. Hairline receding from a sharp widow's peak. Perhaps mid-40s, perhaps a little older, but still eyeing the 20-something women in their short skirts. Doesn't look like a friend, from the rather cool way they bid farewell to each other: a firm shake of the hand, no smiles. Looks like they've been acquainted for some time, though, and to Mila -- looks like a Shadow Lord kin, though what purity of blood he had is diluted almost to nothing.

When his ... colleague? contact? departs, Lukas orders another drink. He speaks quietly. His manner is courteous, even mild. Even so, there's a berth around him that no one breaches. The bartender is quick to fill his order, if only so he'll get away. When Lukas has his drink, he leaves the bar. He makes his way over his Mila and Luana, who are sitting nearly in one another's proximity without really being aware of each other.

Since Luana's alone, he goes to her. He sets his drink down on the low, squareish table; takes a seat in one of the lowslung armchairs, more attractive than strictly comfortable. He makes eye contact with Mila, though, beckoning her over with a mouthed,

Come over when you have a minute.

Then he smiles at Luana. "Hello again."

[Luana Kirchmann] There's a slight movement to her head in time to the music that's playing, but she doesn't open her eyes. Not until Lukas has come over towards where she's lounging around as if it was her couch at home, dark lined, they open and shift to look up and over to where he's just sat himself.

"Hello Lukas." Her hold on her drink shifts and she lifts it to salute him with it, tilting her head forward to take a sip from it after.

She holds the glass up high, careful not to spill any liquid as she struggles to sit up. It leaves space where her legs were formerly taking up residence, which have now shifted towards the floor, the toes barely reaching with the diagonal angle she's settled into the chair.

Turning her head towards him, she lets her gaze flicker over what he's wearing and around to see who he's with. Then back up to his features. "Are you here for business or pleasure?" Her voice carries under the music, more accented with the alcohol in her system.

[Mila Davis] The look was caught. The young woman smirked and gave a little nod. The man beside her was treated to whispered words in his ear and a playful wink which promised more than she ever planned on delivering on. The man went in for a kiss.. and Mila stopped him with a single finger to his lips. She shook her head slightly stood - to the collective pouting of the group. Likely, she promiesd to return as they went back to their business {read: drinking}.

Slender fingers then snagged her still half full glass and with careful steps {four inch heels were dangerous..} she picked her way through the gatherings and over to Lukas and his blonde companion.

"Lukas." It was as much of a greeting as anything. She smiled. Her tone was light, friendly and playful. "Nice to see you again."

Grey-blue eyes shifted to land upon the blonde. Darkly hued lips curved into a smile. "A new friend of yours?" Again, she spoke to Lukas.

[Danicka] On Friday afternoon Danicka emailed Lukas. It was just a forward, and odd enough because she's almost never emailed him, never ever ever in the history of Danicka. Well: travel itineraries and the like. This was, however, the rubric for a project due on the Tuesday after Labor Day. The only notation from Danicka herself was:

I think we have to postpone the dinner.

Upon looking through the requirements for said project, Lukas would understand nothing more than that Danicka's classes are clearly more intricate than he ever imagined, and that yes. Dinner would have to be postoned. So her head wouldn't explode.

Now it's two days later. If he's come over she's been holed up in the north room and Kandovany went so far as to rub against his legs if only to communicate stupid female not stroke me. you will do, peasant. She can be quite focused -- Danicka, not the cat -- when she puts her mind to it. So focused, in fact, that her head might explode anyway.


He's only a few blocks away when his phone chimes or vibrates or what-have-you in his pocket. It's Danicka, in those big friendly letters on his iPhone's screen that he loves so very much. It's just a text message. Given the nature of lounges like this he might not even get it til a little while later, but when he does get it, it's liable to make him smile.

[Danicka] Short circuiting. I need to get out of here, where are you?
to Lukas

[Lukas] Lukas's smile is a little quirky. He takes a sip of his drink -- while is a horrific electric blue -- and then sits back.

"Business, primarily," the Ahroun replies. "The weaselly fellow that just left is family. Complete ass, but he seems to know everything about everyone. It's good for me to check in with him occasionally.

"However," he goes on, sprawling out, "now I'm just chilling. -- Hi, Mila. New mutual friend of ours, actually. Have you met Luana? She's family. Luana, this is Mila, who is currently betraying her country roots." His grin is like his tone, gently teasing, "Shouldn't you be kicking your boots up at some hoedown?"

There's a buzz from his pocket. He shifts, glances discreetly down at the phone, and -- yes -- smiles. Onehanded, he taps a quick message back, and then is polite enough to put the phone away and converse with those right in front of him.

[Lukas] (xyz lounge) with Mila and Luana. Come down :)
to Danicka

[Luana Kirchmann] Her attention shifts from Lukas to Mila, and shifting her hold on her drink, which is now resting back on her thigh again, she offers out her free hand. "It's good to meet you Mila," she says loud enough over the music to be heard. And after the woman shakes her hand, or doesn't, Luana settles back into the corner of her chair again, getting comfortable and leaning into the armrest.

"Who was he? I didn't see him," she tells Lukas, but doesn't seem too bothered by missing the opportunity.

[sorry, this thing didn't update.]

[Mila Davis] "I hadn't actually met her just yet.." Mila set her glass down on the table before them and decided that the space Luana had just shifted from looked like a wonderful place to sit. Gracefully enough, a hand smoothed her skirt beneath her and the Galliard sat, ankles crossed just slightly off to the side.

"A pleasure to meet family, of course. Welcome to Chicago, Luana." The blonde's hand was taken.

"Hoedowns are on Saturday. silly.." She grinned, just playing along with the teasing. "My boots were dirty today.. so I thought I'd try something a little different. And.. I bought these shoes today and well.. just -had- to wear them out somewhere."

[Lukas] "His name is Jones. As for meeting him -- don't worry. Do something notorious and I'm sure sooner or later he'll be gossiping about you, too."

Lukas laughs when Mila plays along. "Well," he adds, polite creature that he is, "you look very nice." A nod over to the people she was with, then -- "Are those your friends?"

[Luana Kirchmann] That gets a raise of her brows and, wisely, no comment. She takes another sip of her drink as she listens to them banter back and forth, glancing over to where the others had been hanging around Mila. Earlier, when she glimpsed the woman and her groupies, she hadn't thought particularly nice things.

Her attention diverts soon enough, disinterested, and in favour of some others moving around by the bar and heading towards the dance floor. She's still paying attention to the two Shadow Lords, by ear mostly.

[Mila Davis] "Why thank you. You look quite handsome yourself."

Her gaze flicked back towards the group she was with earlier. "Hadn't met any of them before tonight - but they seemed to enjoy the embellished stories. I wouldn't call them friends, just people to drink with this evening."

[Lukas] "You do tell a good tale, though," Lukas observes. "I liked the one you told at the last moot." He tips his head back, then, draining the last of his drink. Strong shit, that. Inebriation starts to drizzle through him almost immediately.

"I've always wondered," he adds. "How you decide what story to tell at any given occasion?"

[Luana Kirchmann] Turning her head, she glanced to where Mila was sitting beside her, interested again. She takes in what the woman is wearing, and how she carries herself. Earlier she hadn't gotten the country reference and still remains largely clueless as to what that was all about, but nor did she ask. Lukas had good questions, though.

[Mila Davis] "Mmm.. thanks. That one is one of my favorites." She sipped her drink before continuing on.

"There's usually a lesson in the stories I tell.. especially the ones for special occasions, and I decide on which one to tell based on a few things. Mood, is one - just how I feel in general. Tone of the story is another and probably most importantly - is there someone listening who needs to hear it?"

"For the people here.. well, there is no particular rhyme or reason. Though, I have found.. the more drinks I have the more interesting the stories become.."

The young woman glanced back over at the kin, offering a small smile. "But, enough about me. What is it you do, Luana?"

[Luana Kirchmann] Her smile comes easily, and there's a little bit of amusement in it. "Computer programming," she answers Mila easily. "Far less creative then what you do, by the sounds of it, nor as entertaining." Leaning forward, she rests her forearm on her crossed thigh and takes another sip from her glass. She's drinking some sweet, girlie concoction that has plenty of alcohol in it and sugared soda.

[Lukas] The more she drinks, the more interesting the stories become. Lukas laughs, "We'll be sure to fill you up on potato juice before the next moot."

The conversation turns to Luana. Lukas leans back -- stretched out on the lowslung armchair, feet apart, large and languid and leonine. A few times, he glances in the direction of the door, but for the most part keeps his attention on his companions.

His tribemates. His extended family, quite literally.

[Mila Davis] "Ah.. I'm sure it's creative in it's own right - though I do have to admit that I don't know much about it. " While that could be seen as an opportunity to explain further just what computer programming was.. this likely wasn't the place.

Mila chuckled quietly, mostly to herself - but the amusement was evident in her eyes. "I think the entire moot might be livened up a bit by some of that potato juice. It might makes things a little more interesting.."

[Luana Kirchmann] "If you need help with computers, you can call me," she tells Mila with a smile, networking, before looking over to Lukas, reminded of something.

"Lukas? Do you remember the two at the brotherhood, the boisterous ones that went to fight on the rooftop?" Nights Reprieve and Rainer she's referring to, and once she gets an acknowledgment from him either way, she continues with: "I asked one of them if they would teach me defenses." Her mouth quirks and there's a brief shine in her eyes. "If that would be alright with you, they have agreed."

And since she doesn't think they will follow through with it, she asks him, "Have either of them come to see you about it?" In her mood, right now, she finds the idea a little funny, recalling the expression on Rainers face when she'd bluntly asked him after watching them spear each other on top of the Brotherhood.

[Danicka] The jeans on Danicka's body may as well have been painted on. There are zippers up the ankles on the outside, thin little laces up the front of the peek-toe ankle boots she's wearing that make her somewhere closer to 5'10" than her natural height. Her top is off the shoulder and cream-colored. Hoops in her ears. A triple-banded bracelet on her left wrist that's hard to see.

She finds Lukas as though somehow he told her exactly where in the club he was. She finds him flanked by women and, strangely enough, this does not lead to an altercation involving the film crew from Cheaters and two blondes clawing each other's eyes out.

It's just Danicka, walking up to them and saying "Hello," to them all before she sits down on what's left of the armchair's seat cushion and gives Lukas's drink a thousand-yard stare.

[Lukas] Lukas lets out a blurt of laughter. "Yeah, you suggest that to our stuffy Grand Elder. See how fast he pitches you into the Maelstrom. I'll just be over here."

He's still smiling when he turns to Luana. She's being serious. Semi-serious. More serious. He sits up a little and listens. "I don't see why not," he replies. "But I'm just going to say this up front: if you end up in a relationship with either of them, it won't end well for either party involved. Either you lose your lover or you lose your ancestry." A shrug, his smile rueful, "Sorry to be so blunt. There's a track record of intertribal matings in this Sept."

Then: there's Danicka. Lukas's eyes leave Luana, leave Mila, go to his mate. He doesn't burst into an ear to ear smile. He doesn't laugh with glee, or blush, or do anything overt. Still --

it's there. Subtle, but obvious: his pleasure in seeing her. "Hi," he says quietly. She sits, and he makes a little room for her. "Mila was telling us about her proposal to bring potato juice to the moots."

[Luana Kirchmann] Waving her hand a little, she shrugs off the talk about lovers. "Don't worry about that. I'm not remotely interested in settling down and having babies, there are others for that, and with better breeding." Speaking of which, Danicka has arrived and makes herself comfortable with Lukas. She gets a smile from the other blonde woman who is certainly not sharing the same chair - she's sitting with Mila instead.

[Mila Davis] "You shall be the first person I call should I have a problem with my computer.." Mila's drink was then drained and the glass set back down upon the low table between them.

Danicka's arrival was greeting with a warm smile and a "Hey."

She laughed. "Lukas! It wasn't entirely my idea. I believe you suggested it might make my stories more interesting if I had some. I merely wanted to share with the rest of our beloved sept.." Mila smirked then.. and shook her head some as she stood.

"I should get going.. it was lovely to see you all - hopefully we can spend more quality family time together sometime soon."

After goodbyes were had, Mila headed for the door.
(I need to get to bed, worked a very long day and need sleep! Thank you all for the scene.)

[Luana Kirchmann] [thanks pandora!]

[Danicka] "Mila has my profound and everlasting approval, then," Danicka says mildly, speaking of potato juice. She doesn't look confused as to what potato juice is, but the way she's looking at that Adios Motherfucker it's possible there's not a grain spirit in Gaia's creation that she's unfamiliar with. "Thank Gaia I'm not in charge, same breath."

She gives a nod of goodbye to Mila, and while reaching out to wrap her hands around Lukas's glass, asks: "Did you tell them the dinner's postponed?"

[Luana Kirchmann] [dinner run. bbs. assume she excuses herself for another drink.]

[Lukas] "Lies," Lukas replies, mock-straightfaced. "I'm clearly the innocent, virtuous party here."

Then Mila's leaving, and Lukas is raising a hand to clasp hers briefly, palm to wrist, as she departs. It's a rather fraternal grip; like something a man might give another. Gender roles in the Garou Nation aren't always so rigid.

"See you later, Mila," he says. And then he blinks. "Actually," he replies to Danicka, "I haven't." To Luana, then, with a touch of humor: "I should tell you: the dinner party's postponed on account of homework."

[Danicka] At innocent and virtuous, Danicka does something she never would have done a year ago. She snorts, and if a snort can be delicate, this one is. Which means it isn't really, it's just a little soft. She eases Lukas's drink out of his hand just as he's gripping Mila's arm, and she takes a long drink. She gives a little nod to Luana as the other blonde excuses herself, and then leans back, exhaling deeply after swallowing.

"I'm only a sophomore," she says, like one might say I'm only fifteen! as they die on a battlefield.

[Lukas] That adios motherfucker was empty a few moments ago. Then Danicka arrived and started staring at it in a way that made Lukas think of lions and gazelles, wolves and newborn fawns. This is the sort of place with a waiting staff, so Lukas seeks one out, makes eye contact, lifts his hand from the arm of his chair and makes a one more, please gesture.

He doesn't complain, moments later, when Danicka eases it out of his hand and knocks it back. It seems like he expects it. He laughs quietly, and then holds his hand out for his drink. His sip is a little smaller.

"It's like the second or third week of school, too," he observes. "You going to be all right with the class load?"

[Danicka] "I am going to rip this class load apart with my teeth and grind it to pulp on my molars," Danicka informs him, reaching for the glass again and taking another long pull. She doesn't hand it back. Greedy little thing. She sounds quite determined. "I have a feeling this professor is trying to break us."

[Lukas] Lukas gives up his AMF for lost. While Luana is gone for another drink, he settles in beside Danicka. Their legs touch, hip to knee. He leans into her and kisses her temple once, quickly but warmly.

"What class?" he asks then, leaning his head on the back of the armchair, relaxed.

[Danicka] She used to be afraid of this. Of being out in public, amongst members of the tribe or possible informants to members of the tribe, and taking the liberties that Lukas gives her so freely. She used to be afraid that if she ate from his plate or took his drink or did things like share his space so easily as she does now, it would come back to haunt her in his rage at the potential for bruising his reputation. As strong. As hard.

She has had more than one pair of eyes cast down to the flatness of her belly, more than one slyly put insult at the fact that the mate of the Ahroun Elder, who has been his officially and entirely for close to a year now, has not given him or the Nation the children that she is so capable of bearing. Every Garou who sniffs her knows intuitively that her lineage is known particularly for its fertility (on one side) and viciousness (on the other). Strong children they'd be, and probably many of them, if she would only get started.

And what sort of Ahroun of Thunder treats his Kinfolk as anything more than favored pets, really? There are a number of Garou and Kin alike who think he should strike her for her impudence. Beat her regularly, dominate her, all that, blah blah. Etcetera. Yet Lukas lets her go on with this schoolwork business, and he doesn't impregnate her, and he showers her with what, to Shadow Lords, is a ridiculous and somewhat embarrassing amount of affection and indulgence.

They are alone right now, Mila gone and Luana off to the bar. She puts her legs over his lap, and twists a bit so she can lean on his chest after that kiss on her temple. She cradles the drink and takes smaller sips now, one at a time.

"Continuous Time-Linear Systems," she says loosely.

[Lukas] There's a pause. Then Lukas bursts out laughing. It resounds through his broad chest; she can hear it through the thick warm sheets of muscle there, echoed from beneath the bone.

"I," he says, "am not even going to try to pretend I understand what you just said. It doesn't sound like sophomore-level work, though."

And -- it's true. These conversations are almost unheard-of amongst the Shadow Lords. Since when did Shadow Lords let their kin babble on about schoolwork? About continuous time linear systems? Since when did Shadow Lords allow their kin to get a pet, for god's sake, when they should be hard at work keeping the house clean, paying the bills, popping out the children?

They're not the usual Shadow Lord pair. Whatever eyes have been cast in the direction of Danicka's flat belly -- and Lukas doesn't know about any of them, and this is likely a good thing -- and whatever instinctive desires might flicker and burn in his own breast: to procreate, to breed, to rear cubs that bear his blood and his face and his mate's blood and his mate's face, Lukas has never pushed on that matter. He wouldn't.

Maybe that's why he didn't bat an eyelash when Luana announced she had no plans to provide children for the Nation.

His hand comes to rest easily over her legs, palm over her far knee. His other arm is behind her, a warm bar at the small of her back. Her weight, half on him now, seems negligible to him. He's as relaxed now as he was, his head still back against the couch cushion, turned to look at her.

Quieter, and serious now: "If it's too much, maybe you drop a course and take it next quarter."

[Danicka] The look she gives him is so affronted she pulls away from him, straightening her back to give him a Look somewhere between imperious and ruffled.

[Lukas] "...or not," Lukas says. "Forgive me for even daring to suggest such a thing. Good god, did you learn that look from Kando?"

[Danicka] It works better than telling him that he worries too much, or Very Seriously telling him that it stung a little to have him suggest she drop the class, take it later, this is too hard for you, it's too much, maybe you shouldn't.

Danicka sniffs and drinks from the bright blue fluid he ordered for himself and ended up giving to her. She settles back against him. "No, I already had that one. I learned that it was effective versus your more ridiculous and offensive comments from Kando. When you offered her kibble that time when she wanted the canned food."

[Lukas] The truth is, it isn't until Danicka tells him he was being offensive -- albeit gently -- that Lukas even thinks of it that way. As soon as she does, though, he sees it. The why, the how. The subtle chauvinism involved in his implicitly lowered standards and expectations.

So he's quiet now, thinking, while she drinks from his bright blue adios. His thumb moves slightly on her knee. Then he draws his head back enough to look at her, eye to eye.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I of all people shouldn't be the one suggesting that you back down at the slightest hint of challenge."

[Danicka] The way he moves so he can see her face unsettles and unmoors Danicka where she'd cuddled against him. She was on the verge of saying that maybe Luana isn't coming back, went off away from Couple Time so she could find herself a bit of fun maybe, but then Lukas is lowering his voice and meeting her eyes and Danicka tips her head to the side, gazing back at him.

When he says what he does, she's quiet a moment, then leans toward him. Her hand comes to the back of his head, in his recently trimmed hair, and her eyes close. When her lips seal against his it's brief as any kiss in public should be, but there's a softness to it. Danicka communicates like this better than in words sometimes. She lets it linger a little, just barely shy of too much for a lounge on a Sunday night. She strokes her fingertips over his scalp and sighs softly as she pulls back, licking her lips gently.

Her eyes are on his, still. She doesn't remove her hand but scritches slowly through his hair, massaging the nape of his neck. "Yes," she says, because it's the truth. But she leans over and kisses him again, a smaller thing this time. It's never said that she forgives him, or that it's alright. Words have ever, for they two, been the source of misunderstanding. So she kisses him instead, and hopes he understands.

[Lukas] One of the earliest signs of affection between them wasn't the kissing, wasn't the fucking. Those things can be faked. They weren't, in their case -- but their lust for each other was something akin to need. Something akin to burning, painful hunger. It wasn't affectionate, or warm.

Her hand in his hair, though: that was. The way she scritched his scalp sometimes after lovemaking. The way she tendered his hair back behind his ears, or at his temples.

She kisses him now, and it is warm. And affectionate. And soft, and slow, and just shy of too much for a public lounge on a sunday night. His eyes close; he accepts the kiss, reciprocates. When she draws back, his eyes open again, and the color should be cold, should be icy and hard -- but not when he looks at her. She agrees, but Lukas has never been the type to shy from the truth, and she's so very gentle about it. When she kisses him again, his hand comes to her face, cradling without holding.

The second time they draw apart, Lukas smiles. "I don't think Luana's coming back," he says, echoing the thought she's already had. "Want to go someplace where they actually dance?"

[Danicka] All signs of their growing attachment to one another were subtle, and a little broken at first. She made him his favorite treat as secretively as possible. He felt a sort of mad rushing in his ears every time she was threatened or struck or humiliated because he wanted so badly to protect her and clamped down on it, rejected it every time. She tried to hold his eyes while she came for the first time with him. He kept her warm as he laid there with her and kissed her shoulder so she'd know he was coming back.

And when he found her drunk outside some restaurant in winter he took her by the elbow but she moved away, she linked their arms as though showing him no, this is how you do it --

later, much later, in the Underworld, the spirits of renewal called back to that memory and the Gatekeeper who wore her form and face and voice was like that with him, taught him by showing him, by even going so far as to manipulate his hands and arms into the correct position, and she was so gentle about it, there was such a lack of condescension,

that it came terribly close to what he knew to be true,

so close that he thought that was the point of it all, to reject it as false, to know it for an illusion, which would have been a hard enough test


-- but that was affection, too. Walking together before he got angry at her and before she went home and passed out. It was a long time before she let herself do this strange little caress, scritching his scalp the way she does now so easily, so thoughtlessly, so comfortably. She doesn't remember the first time it happened. She thinks maybe when the moon was waxing to gibbous and he was coming into the hotel bedroom and whispering to her not to think about that. She thinks she stroked his hair then, did not know what else to do as he went to his knees and tried to find some new way to love her when he did not have the words.


Danicka sinks down a bit into the armchair and against his body. "Hmm," she says in agreement, when he mentions Luana. She smiles, more to herself than to him since now he can't see her face again. "I have to finish my drink," she says archly, sipping from it again. "Then we should go to my place."

Which isn't 'home'. Just... her place.

"I want you to undress me there, and yank my jeans down my body. I want you to lay me down or bend me over and fuck me senseless." She sips from the drink, and looks at him. "I mean it. If I remember my name afterward you'll have to open me up and fuck me again."

[Lukas] Lukas is kissing Danicka's hair when she says --

well. What she says. And she knows he hears her, because he goes thrummingly still. When he draws back he's breathing a little harder. His eyes catch the light and throw it back differently; glinting. She can see his throat move as he swallows.

"Oh my god," he says softly, and then glances at her drink. His drink. Whatever. "Are you going to finish that soon?"

[Danicka] Her eyes are a very pale green in this light, somehow, the way they go vivid pale when she's truly angry, not at all the poison emerald of sheer terror. But she's not angry. The colors shift and trend towards aquamarine, towards the blue they are in daylight. She considers him. Considers his lust, laid out on display for her like a banquet, offered now so freely where once he resisted even showing it to her, hinting at it.

He could fuck her anytime, and she knows it. If she came to him in the middle of the day, mere hours after he fell asleep from a long battle, a long night, a long argument with this pack alpha or that,

if she woke him up by crawling under the blanket with him and spread her thighs over his lap and whispered to him

please, baby

he would give her what she wants. And she knows it. She almost never toys with him, which is perhaps how he came to trust her with his desire so utterly. She toys with him now, though, looking at him and then at her drink. She lifts the glass and takes a very

slow

sip.

"Waste not, want not," she says.

[Lukas] She's playing with him. He knows it, and a year ago this would have infuriated him. He would have looked for ulterior motives. Was she trying to humiliate him? Prove to him how strong her hold was? He would have ignored her games, ignored his lust, dumped her out of his lap and walked away.

He doesn't now. He looks at her, and she takes that slow, slow sip, and there's a huff of laughter, a grin that bares a flash of incisor. He takes the drink from her and he slams it back. When the glass comes down it's empty.

"There. Wasted not," and he leans forward, and he catches her mouth with his, his hands on her body, on her thigh and wrapped around her side. This kiss is a bit harder than the last ones. A little less decent. Not quite acceptable for a public lounge on a Sunday night --

-- but then it's over, and he's opening his eyes.

"Let's go," he whispers.

[Danicka Musil] At least he thinks that. Thinks he would have walked away, infuriated. Forgets how many times he walked away from her in the past. How many times it didn't make him stop wanting her, how even if he thought she was teasing him he was turned on by her, and maddened by that fact as much as anything else. She knows. She could see it in his eyes every time he turned away from her. Can see it now, when he doesn't even try to hide it.

"Hey!" she says, when he snatches the drink back from her, which she barely got any of. She has rarely ever pouted, at least not in his presence, because it is such a childish thing. Such a limp thing. She doesn't quite pout. She scowls at him as he drains the glass dry, her lips full with displeasure, however feigned.

When Lukas puts the glass down, it's so hard and he lets go of it so quick that it almost tips over. Then he's on her, opening her mouth with his own and opening his hands over her lean thigh, as though he would pull her onto him somehow, even in public, even clothed. She plays with the idea of resistance for a moment, unresponsive and pressing away from him, but it's a game. It's a game they never used to let themselves play, because he didn't know how serious it might be and he couldn't risk forcing her. She couldn't risk tempting him to. She didn't trust him.

She trusts him now. Enough that even a year ago she let him tie her to his bed. Enough that next time she goes to his bed at the Brotherhood he won't have to use one of his neckties again.

And he can trust her now not to mock him. Not to go away anymore. Not to use him. Not to take advantage of him for some sick power play on her part. She doesn't need to dominate him like that to feel less vulnerable in their world.

Danicka has had perhaps two drinks -- literally, two swallows. Not two glasses. She's nowhere near tipsy, much less drunk, but he knows very well if she wanted to straddle his lap and maul his face in the middle of a lounge she would. That in and of itself is thrilling, that she can do that now, that she doesn't care as much who sees, that she doesn't think, constantly, of what will happen to her at home if she's seen misbehaving. And that's because of him.

Because of her, too.

But it has everything to do with him.

She puts her hand on his shoulder and lifts herself up, turning her body towards his as she does so. She opens her legs over his lap but only for a moment, only for that second before her feet are touching the floor again, before she's levering herself off the chair and standing up. Danicka offers him her hand, not because he needs a hand up, but because she wants to touch his hand. "Do you need to close out a tab?" she asks quietly, practical as ever, as he rises to stand with her.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Pragmatism. That's one thing that's always marked the both of them -- by blood, by genetics, or perhaps simply by their own makeup and personalities. The most impractical thing Lukas has ever done, in fact, was to resist this. Resist her. And even then, he thought he was making the right choice. Putting pack ahead of self, or war ahead of self, or ...

something. It doesn't matter now. She's rising, and he's looking at her body, and she knows that's not all he wants her for, never was, and so he's never been afraid to show her just how much he loves her body. Her sleek stomach, her pert little breasts, her sweet little ass, and that cunt, that amazing, sweet little cunt that he's called everything from legendary to sofuckinggood with varying degrees of seriousness.

His hands are at her waist for the brief moment she opens her thighs over his lap. Their size difference is never so obvious as when his hands are on her body: how he covers so much, how his hands seem to span from hip to breast on her side when he opens them; how the body she almost straddles for a moment is so long, so broad, a veritable continent beneath her,

even though it's her family that's always associated with the earth, and his that's always reflected the sky.

"No," he says, standing with her when she draws back. "I gave them my card up front. They'll just charge it to that." He takes her hand; gives the crowd one cursory glance. He's a polite thing. He'd say goodnight to Luana if he saw her. He doesn't see her. He doesn't look particularly hard, because then his eyes are back on his mate, and he's threading their fingers together.

"Let's go. I'll drive?"

[Danicka Musil] They are Shadow Lords.

He knows it in every bone, every fiber, every inhale of breath that carries her scent. He told her he recognizes it in her and that the spirits at the homelands, the children of Thunder and the paragons of his brood, would know her, too. Every time he feels her growing stronger under his hands it's something of a sharp and instinctive thrill.

His mate is healthy. His mate is strong. His mate will be tireless and fertile and be warm in the coming winter. His mate is very good. And his. No other's.

Which is all very well and good. If they were human she would have good reason to smack him for such thoughts, for being so pleased at the thought of mounting her, holding her with his teeth, breeding on her, possessing her. They aren't human, though.

They're Shadow Lords.

Danicka makes no play at coyness. She doesn't gasp at his hands on her. She meets his eyes and there's a hint of a half-smile at the corner of her lips as he makes himself take his hands back and rise to his feet, as he maintains this facade of civility, humanity, and etiquette. He gives the room a cursory onceover for his errant kinswoman but she's a big girl, and one who has run off to her own entertainments.

"I walked here," she says, starting towards the entrance, which is easy to see because this isn't a nightclub packed with people thrashing around on their long weekend. "And you've been drinking."

Which is, apparently, that. She walks a little ahead of him, but when they're out the doors and into the streetlights and nightlights of the Mile, Danicka turns to him and holds out her hand, smiling.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] It goes without saying that Lukas cuts a wider path through what crowd there is. People move aside for Danicka because they're polite, and because she's an attractive woman. People move aside for Lukas because on some basic, irrational level, they think he might take their heads off if they don't.

It's still warm in Chicago, though this is the unofficial end of summer; though the astronomical end of summer is only weeks away. The sky is overcast and the head is a trifle oppressive. Lukas takes his mate's hand as they emerge out in the darkness and the warmth, and he smiles back.

"I'd like that," he says. "Walking."

In the winter he would want to wrap his hand around hers to keep it warm, maybe guide both their hands to his pocket. Those thoughts are so often in his head, too: protect. Keep warm. Keep safe. Because she is mine. No other's. It's not winter, though. He laces their fingers instead, squeezing gently as he starts following her back to her apartment, mere blocks away.

There's a laugh underlying this: "But let's walk quickly, all right?"

[Danicka Musil] She laughs. "I meant for you to give me your keys so you didn't have to leave it here, but walking works, too."

She lets him take her hand, though, eyes twinkling a bit, and leans up to him to kiss him. This one's softer. It's not so charged, so erotic, as before. It's something more tender.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Oh, well." Lukas is somewhere between abashed and matter of fact, quickly reaching into his pocket to produce his keys, "If you want to drive, we should totally drive. We can take a nice, leisurely walk afterward. My car's over here."

[Danicka Musil] "Oh, no," she says, offering his keys back to him, echoing his tone. "If I'm not supposed to be able to remember my name, much less how to walk. You're fucking me so I can go back to work," she informs him.

And nevermind how ludicrous this discussion is, held on the sidewalk outside a lounge, just a couple of blocks from her apartment. Nevermind that there are people passing by right as Danicka is telling him that he's fucking her senseless, turning their heads and glancing quickly, blinking, snapping their eyes forward again a second later.

She's this slim, golden thing in denim and cream, half-stepping back away from Lukas as though to move out of his reach, grinning at him. Playing.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] They say things to each other that make passerbies blink and hastily look away, faces still, masking their reactions. He thinks things that humans would smack him for, send him to therapy for, break up with him for, talk to their therapists about. They're not human, though they wear the mask well; when she sidesteps away from him like that, though, she may as well be an animal, dancing sideways to initiate play.

And he reacts like one. He turns toward her, and he grins suddenly, and there's an gleam in his eye and a flash in his smile and even as she's dancing away he's pulling her back by the hand, pulling her right against him and wrapping his arm around her and

leaning down to her, play-gnawing at her neck. "Rrrr," he says. His teeth grip gently at her for a moment, then release. He hasn't let go yet. He's still bending to her, wrapping around her, rumbling a mock-growl at her. "How are you supposed to go back to work if you can't even remember your own name? I think we might as well just stay in bed after and fuck until we're unconscious."

[Danicka Musil] Danicka may as well be grabbing his favorite toy and running off with it, laughing. Play with me. Chase me. Tickle me. Let's wrestle. She dances away from him and he plays, too, grabbing her back to him. She doesn't wriggle or fight, pretending to want to get away. For one thing, there's enough people out tonight who would think she seriously needed help, that man doesn't look right, but for another thing, she doesn't want to get away. She likes the way he feels against her.

Funny, how a year and a half ago or something like it he grabbed her and held her against his body for the first time, and it terrified her. She didn't want to kiss him then. She didn't want him to kiss her, she wanted him to let her go but she was scared to so much as ask for it. He wanted her so badly that day on the waterfront, wanted her in some mad way, wanted to press her against the bars of the railing and push himself between her legs and grind onto her, even through their clothes and coats, and it's only through his rather remarkable restraint that holding her close to him for a few scant seconds was all he did.

That and, perhaps, realizing she was shaking, and it wasn't from the cold, and it wasn't from desire.


This is so far from that it's worlds apart. Danicka is pressed to his legs and his torso and she's breathing a little faster, watching him. Her eyes flicker closed for a second when he goes to bite at her neck, his growl like a purr. It takes her a second but she tips her head to the side, giving her throat to him, refusing to move her hips, refusing to rub against him. To anyone walking by it looks like helplessness, or the pretense of it.

It is pretense: the way she gives him her neck like that is submission, but not to him. The way she doesn't struggle as he holds her is surrender, but not coerced. He can feel her breathing, feel every rise and fall of her chest, feel her body through that thin silk-blend knit of her shirt, feel her pulse in her bared arms.

"No, you don't understand," she insists, holding onto his shirt with one hand. "If I can't remember my name or whatever else, then my brain has enough room for the science."

Danicka breathes, and exhales in a shudder, her voice lowering: "We need to go."
 
Copyright Lukáš Wyrmbreaker 2010.
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