Some Ugly Revelations and Some Ugly Drinking

[Amy] [Hunter] “Oh..” That seems to surprise him, but he refrains from responding by throwing a shot in his mouth.

clink

“Why’s that?”

[stam!]

[Amy] (OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, DICE!)

[Amy] “Because they’re not my pack. They’re Sar’s pack. Lukas made it petty clear when we met that I’m her problem, not his.”

[Hunter] “Hm,” thoughtful, perhaps an almost-frown in his lips. He reaches for another shot, throws it back. “But I mean.. ain’t they wanna be friends or whatever?”

[derp+1]

[Amy] “Do they strike you as the kind of people that would want to be friends with me?”

[Hunter] “They don’t strike me as the kinda peeps who wanna be friends with anyone.” He laughs, “Though Joey n’Sinclair came into this city together – like sisters or somethin’ – years back, crazy shit happened though. They don’t talk no more.”

[Amy] That gets a scowl, and she downs two shots quickly.

[Amy]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Amy]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 4, 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Amy] (Dear Roller. Die in a fire. XOXO Ang.)

[Hunter] He eyes her, watches her take two of the shots and he takes the third before she can get her hands on it. Throws it back.

“What you scowlin’ about? Also you never fuckin’ told me what you said to piss Leon off so much.”

[stam +2 dif failed last one!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Amy] “Not gonna be like that. Not with Sar.” She shakes her head hard…

And loses her balance. One hand grabs the bartop, one grabs Hunter’s arm, and she steadies herself.

“Which time? I pissed him off a lot.”

[Hunter] He’s getting a little flush in the cheeks, a little glazed in the eyes, but he isn’t wobbly, not like Amy. So he helps steady her somewhat, gets her back in her seat.

“The time he fuckin’ hit you, duh.”

[Amy] She takes another shot, and signals for two more beers. “Which TIME that he hit me?”

Oops.

[Hunter] “WHAT!”

He looks outraged, looks like he’s about to break a bar stool. Instead he picks up one of the shot glasses and hurls it at the wall.

Smash

“The fuck?!! He did it more than once???”

[Amy] (Stam)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 8 (Failure at target 7)

[Amy] “You’re gonna get us cut off, and then it’ll suck. Say you’re sorry now.” She tries to give the bartender a charming smile, though her heart isn’t in it now.

“Just one day, though. Leon.” She nods slowly, somehow believing that will help.

[Hunter] “I’m sorry.”

He’s not, at all, not even a little bit. What she says does not help either.

“What’d he do, where’d he hit ya’ what the fuck happened amy!!”

[Amy] She ticks them off on her fingers as she talks

“I lied to him. I used him. I thew John in his face all the time. I cheated on him. I told him that I was all into him and I wasn’t.” Oops. Out of fingers on that hand. “I don’t know. Lots of shit.”

More money gets put on the counter, and her hand wraps around the fresh beer.

[Hunter] “Did you provoke him? Did ya’ make em lose control?”

[Amy] “I don’t remember”

[Hunter] “..”

“He knocked you out?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The Strider makes her way into the bar, looking around. She was out picking up a space heater and some other shit for Amy and John’s meeting spot. Somehow, she thinks that she’s losing her mind over this; she’s not just letting it happen now, she’s making goodwill deliveries to their fuckin’ rendezvous spot. She sighs, looking around for Amy. She knows the woman’s at a bar, and this is the third one she’s checked.

She smiles a bit as she sees Amy, and she’s so glad that she’s found the place that she doesn’t even feel uncomfortable that Hunter is here. She smiles and walks up, the smile starting to fade when she notes the tension.

“Uh…hi guys.”

[Amy] “No. Jesus. I just got hit in the head again and I dont-”

Fuck. She looks over her shoulder, biting her bottom lip. “Hey Sar.”

[Hunter] His head turns, eyes raising to the Garou as she wanders into the bar. There is most definitely tension here, and an array of empty vessels lined up along the bar in front of them. Hunter reaches out his hand, fingers wrapping around the beer that was recently purchased and raises it to his lips.

“Hi,” he begins, seems almost about to drink when he pulls the bottle away and continues, gesturing to the kinswoman with it. “Hope you know what that fuck bag of a walker did to your sister.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She freezes, frowning. The level of anger that quickly flashes to her eyes when Leon is mentioned is obvious and perhaps surprising to see on Sarita’s face. She’s not someone who gets angry often. Maybe at Amy, but she never looks like she hates something. Leon…yes, there is hate there. A scowl, and she walks up to the bar, waving for shots.

“Yeah. I know he hit her. And believe me, there’s nothing I’d have liked better than to put HIM in the hospital too.”

[Hunter] “Why the fuck didn’t you?”

[Amy] She holds her breath until after Sar talks, knowing what a bomb that question could have lit off.

“It wasn’t a big deal. I started it. Sar, you want a shot? We’ve got lots.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That’s a really fucking good question.” She lights up a cigarette, shaking her head. “Couple reasons. One, I was dealing with the fact that Amy had a concussion and a rebroken wrist, and needed to get her checked out.” She takes one of the shots in front of Amy and downs it.

“And two, because Amy begged me not to. Leon has the potential to make some things pretty messy. My concern was that Amy was safe from him. I made sure that was the case. And don’t give me this ‘it wasn’t a big deal,’ Amy. I don’t give a shit if it was just once or what. I told you, there are a lot of fucking Ahrouns out there. Take Hunter here, and John. Lukas, too. They don’t hit the people they’re involved in.”

She’s assuming, anyway. She thinks it’s a safe assumption.

[Amy] “He wouldn’t have shifted and hit me if I had just shut my goddamned mouth. And my wrist wouldn’t have broken again if it wasn’t fucking all healed by Owen. That shit doesn’t take right away.”

She takes another shot, already feeling fuzzy.

[Amy] (Stam again!)
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 2, 7 (Failure at target 8)

[Hunter] “Damn fuckin’ right we don’t.”

He turns his gaze to Amy, points with two fingers as if to drive home the message.

“Grounds for divorce, not a fuckin’ concussion. Don’t care what you —“ He wouldn’t have shifted His eyes go wide and his lips curl in a snarl. This time he hurls the bottle across the bar at the mirror behind it. The bar-man ducks and Hunter is already turning around to walk out.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks about ready to give a retort to Amy when Hunter flips out. She sighs, rubbing her temple, and moves to get in his path, walking backward so he doesn’t just run her over. “You going where I think you’re going?”

She doesn’t honestly sound entirely opposed, but she is still in his way. Make of that what you will.

[Amy] Slow blink. A couple of seconds pass before it filters through that he’s pissed off and leaving, at which point she scrambles up with a fair chance of falling on her face.

[Hunter] “Does it start with L and end with rippin’ off his fuckin’ arms and shoving them down his throat?” He snarls at the Strider. “Get outta’ my way Sarita.”

[Amy] [Dex for staying on her feet]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 6 (Failure at target 7)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Listen, you wanna beat the shit out of him, I’m right there with you. But let’s hold off for right now, and I can tell you why later.” She arches an eyebrow, stopping at the door. A meaningful glace is given to Amy, and then back.

The expression is clear: We need to talk on our own about this.

[Amy] She yelps on the way down, then launches into a sailor worthy tirade of swearing as she picks herself back up/

[Hunter] He stops, whether it’s because Sarita asked him to or because he heard the kinswoman yelp and fall over behind him is unclear. To start with his fiery green eyes remain on the Garou, but after a moment he swivels his head, looks back over his shoulder.

“Jesus christ.” He sighs. “Let’s get outta here for they call the cops anywho.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “And here I was hoping to get plastered myself.” She sighs and tosses Hunter her keys. “My van’s outside. You’re not driving. I’ll get her.”

She slips by the Gnawer, moving to help Amy get to her feet and supporting her so she can walk with some level of effectiveness. “C’mon, you. Bitchmobile taxi service is here…”

[Hunter] “I ain’t leavin’ my fuckin’ car here. I’ll be fine.”

He pushes out of the door and stumbles towards the side of his car.

[Amy] “I’m fine” She scowls, waving off Sarita’s help and stomping for the door.

Garou can shift. Kin cannot. This is on her list of Unfair Things That Piss Her Off.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Hunter’s fine. Amy’s fine. And Sarita’s left behind, watching them both stomp out of the fucking bar. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

She follows behind, out of the place. “Hunter, do not make me disable your fucking car. You are NOT driving. Also, give me my keys back. Amy, get in the van please.”

The Ragabash is the responsible one here. How the hell Sarita got to this point, she couldn’t tell you. She just knows it was easier when she was getting chased out of cities by angry Garou.

[Amy] She at least doesn’t argue. Leave that to Hunter. Climbing into the van, she twists around to explore what Sarita brought.

[Hunter] [dex+ath KEYS!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Hunter] Hunter tosses the keys blindly at Sarita, but they hit their target and he’s unlocking his door a second later. There is something decidedly distracted about the way his eyes look and the reactions on his face, like he’s communicating with someone who is not here at all.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She catches the keys and sighs as he has no apparent desire to avoid being a drunk driving target. “Hunter, this is your last chance. I have the auto mechanic skills to disable a car in moments.”

Her eyes widen when Hunter looks like he’s communicating with someone else. “Seriously, will you fucking listen to me for one fucking second?”

[Amy] Amy is busy being delighted and feeling guilty. Blankets, some of her clothes, space heater, generator so that it works, groceries….

While the adults fight, she crawls into the back of the van with the stuff and starts to cry.

[Hunter] Hunter turns around to face her with a look of annoyance, like she’s interrupting something and he barks out a “What??” Before his hand locks back up the door to his Impala. He stuffs his keys into his pockets and looks at Sarita.

“I can’t go with ya,” the anger in his face is evident, he’s about a millimetre away from frenzying and he knows it. The fact that he can even attempt a conversation at this point goes to show the lengths this man has taken to control himself – the times in his past where he might not have been able to.

“Joey’s comin’ to get me.” That’s all he can say, not because he’s hiding anything but because he’s more likely to bite his own lips off than produce understandable words right now.

[Hunter] [oh yep! -1 WP]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chills out a bit at that. It’s just about her moon, and she’s undoubtedly pissier than usual. But she knows that look, she’s seen it just before Amy’s said You know, Cleveland sounds good this time of year and she’s unsuccessfully trying to start their van like it’s a horror movie. There’s a scratch across the back of the van that attests to that, that Sarita’s never had a chance to fix.

“Where are you going,” she says fairly calmly. “Are we meeting you there, or am I dropping off this shit at the house and we’re heading home?”

She knows he may not be able to answer, but she’s just trying to give him options in the coolest-headed way possible.

[Hunter] He can’t talk without snarling, but she asks him questions anyway and it makes his blood pressure spike. It’s not her fault, it’s his if anything, or Leon’s – that muther fucker.

“Don’t know.” He grunts out, childlike, pathetic. He crosses his arms over his chest then barks something that sounds like “Home.

[Amy] She’s never been good with time, and it’s even worse when she’s drunk. The side door of the van opens and she half leans, half falls out.

“You guyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyys. I’ve been in here foreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeever. C’mon!”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay. Going now. Meet you there.” She gives him a nod and then heads back to the van. Amy is helped back into the van. “C’mon, we’re going.”

She shuts the door and moves to get into the driver’s seat, pulling out.

[Amy] “Why isn’t Hunter coming? What did you DO?”

[Hunter] Hunter paces on the street, back and forth, around in a small circle like he’s not exactly sure where he’s going. They see him wander off down the road and disappear into an alleyway, kicking a steel rubbish bin over as he does so–

Well, kicking it over is putting it lightly. It bends in half at the point of impact, goes flying across the street and smashes into a brick wall. He’s gone a moment later.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Nothing.” She sighs, starting up the van. “Joey’s coming to get him. We’re meeting at his place…wherever that is. You’ll have to direct me. He needs to cool off a bit because of Leon.”

[Amy] “Oh….”

Something in that statement has made her unhappy. She slinks into the seat, giving Sarita directions to the house.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A little nod and she pulls out, reaching over to rub Amy’s shoulder as she follows the directions.

And hopes Amy isn’t so drunk she’s giving the wrong ones.

…you know. It could happen.

[Hunter] [Thanks for the scene SO FAR!! *ominous*]

[Amy] She’s drunk, but not so much that she can’t give directions. Yet.

Hopping out as soon as the van stops, she stumbles just a little. “Stay here. I’ll go open the door.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Sweetie, lemme do it. I gots the break-in skills, remember?” She smiles a little bit and moves to get out. “And you’re drunk. Don’t need you slicin’ open your arm on a window or some shit.”

[Amy] “I’m fine. We always get in this way.”

She moves to the side of the house, pushing open the window the inch or so she can get it. It’s escaped her until this very second that the reason she’s able to get up and through the window is the Fenrir that’s lifting her up at the time.

Instead, without him, she jumps and

[Amy] AND ZOMBIES ATTACK! AAARGH!!!

Instead, without him, she jumps and starts to unsteadily pull herself up.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs and looks around, then walks up to the side of the house. She puts her hands under Amy’s feet and helps push her up to the window.

[Amy] She yelps, then cracks up when the boost takes her by surprise. The window is pushed open more, and Amy tips in to crash onto the floor in an amazing lack of grace.

“Fuck. Ow.””

A couple of minutes later, the front door is unlocked and opened.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs and goes to get the heater, generator and some groceries while Amy heads to the the front door. Just a little Gnosis and this would have been easy…

Still, she’s grinning a bit when she slips inside. “Where does this shit go?”

[Amy] She gestures vaguely behind her. “I can carry shit, you know.”

Wriggling around her, she jogs to the van to collect clothing and blankets.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, but I wanted to grab the breakable shit.” She carries the stuff inside, seeking out a good central spot to put the generator and space heater. The food is put into the kitchen…no spoilable items, of course. Not when they don’t have power. She starts to unpack the stuff while Amy brings the second load in.

[Amy] She dumps her armload on the hard wood floor, blowing up bits of fur from Hunter’s sleepover the other night. After shutting and locking the door, she goes to the kitchen to shut and lock the window before turning around to lean on the counter. She watches her sister for a moment, then clears her throat.

“Thank you”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A little shrug as she puts stuff away in cabinets, not looking over immediately. The bottle of tequila’s been left out. She doesn’t give a whole bucketload of fucks, she is getting drunk tonight.

“Don’t mention it.” She half-looks back, smiling, and puts some cereal up. The brand Amy likes…she doesn’t know what John likes. Doesn’t know much of anything about him, come to think about it.

“Not a bad place, all in all.”

[Amy] “Yeah. Hunter’s full of fucking surprises. We gotta remember to change the locks, then we won’t have to come in through the window anymore..

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That would be a good thing.” She nods, turning to face her now. “How you doin’?”

[Amy] “I need a drink. I need to fucking think before I open my mouth.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You look like you’ve had a lot to drink already, hon.” She frowns a little bit. “No, this is shit that needs to get out now. Leon’s a fucking moron, it would have come out eventually I’m sure. Better get it right out of the way.”

[Amy] “And what happens when Hunter kicks his ass, and he goes running to Lukas or whoever about me an’ John?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, he needs his ass kicked. A lot.” She shrugs. “Honestly, I was a horrible person for not doing it myself. And he just knows about the one time, right? And the feelings on your part too, sure, but not anything else?”

[Amy] “He knows why I got hit and that I was using Leon. I told him it was my own damned fault, but he’s not buying that. Obviously.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “And nor should he buy that, because it’s not your own damned fault. I meant Leon, though. Leon just knows about the one time with John, right?”

[Amy] “Yeah. And he knows I love him.” She looks sheepish, eyes on the floor.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods. “Yeah, I knew about that. But that’s it, right?”

[Amy] She nods too. “Yeah. Fuck.” She moves to the widow, as if looking out will somehow summon Hunter.

“He was talking to one of them. You said Joey was coming to get him? Fuck.”

Because Amy, being mere kin, really has no understanding that packspeech doesn’t work like a one way voice mail machine, but rather like an old fashioned party line, dispensing words into everyone’s head equally.

She wouldn’t be nearly so calm if she knew.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That’s what he said, yeah.”

She sighs. “So, here’s what I’m thinking. Leon’s getting the fuck beat out of him. You know and I know that Hunter won’t leave it at that. And if he tells John…whoa, mama. But…we can probably work this fine. I’ll be there, ’cause frankly like I said I should have beat him to hell, and we’ll tell him to keep quiet or the Furies find out. That should shut his ass up.”

[Amy] “It won’t. He’s a prideful fucker. He’ll scream until somebody pays attention.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, we’ll have to figure something out. Because we won’t be able to stop Hunter. And I really don’t know that we should.”

[Amy] “And now fucking Joey knows. That’s great.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Probably, yeah.” She nods. “Hopefully, that’s the only other person. If John knows, all bets are off.”

[Amy] “He knows.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She blinks. “He knows that Leon fucked you up?”

[Amy] “He knows I got hit. I asked him to leave it alone. He knows how fucked we would be if Leon starts screaming.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay, but does he know it’s Leon, or just that someone hit you?”

She needs to make sure. She knows how good Amy is at lies of omission.

[Amy] “I’m telling him everything about shit, Sar. Totally fucking honest.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay. Just making sure.”

[Amy] “Why?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Because I want to know what the case is. I wanna be in on the information and make sure I know what to say to people.”

[Amy] “Alright. That’s fair.”

She crosses her arms, looking out the window again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches Amy for a long moment, then grabs the tequila. “C’mon. Let’s get some drinks going.”

[Amy] “He should have just come with us….” She sighs and tromps back to the living room, picking up an armful of clothes and one of the blankets, leaving the other on the floor while she moves to the small bedroom to drop everything else off.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, I know.” She shakes her head, getting down some glasses she brought along with them and pouring a hefty amount of tequila in each. “I tried. He was on the edge of frenzy though, sweetie.”

[Amy] “You want to know what the really fucked up thing is?”

She comes back to the living room, pushing the other blanket toward the wall and sitting down.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Sure. I love fucked-up things.” She moves and sits next to Amy, handing her a glass.

[Amy] She takes it, drinking before talking.

“It’s sweet. It’s…. it’s like being home again.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Like being home?” She frowns. “What do you mean?”

[Amy] “Just. Hunter reminds me of Ox. A lot. This is something that he would do.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh.” She falls quiet, nodding, and takes a drink of her tequila. There’s the good burn.

[Amy] “He was….”

She hasn’t told her sister about her non blood brothers back home. She hasn’t spoken of them at all, until Hunter’s prompting for a story the other night brought them back to life for her.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “…someone you knew at your home sept, right?”

She finishes the thought for her, pulling her knees up toward her chest and drinking a bit more. That wasn’t hard to figure out.

[Amy] “He was my best friend.”

She finishes her glass in one long gulp, ignoring the burning that makes her want to gag

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “…oh.” She blinks, then smiles a bit. She knows Amy’s never talked to her about most of her life at her home sept, and that’s always bothered her a bit. She sighs slightly and nods, repouring some for them both.

“That’s cool.”

[Amy] “You only say that’s cool when you’re pissed.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’m not pissed, Ames. I promise.” She swallows a fair amount of her tequila. To be fair, she said she wanted to get plastered well before shit went sour. She sighs, and shuts her eyes.

“I just tend to forget that in some ways, you’re way more knowledgeable about this shit than I am.”

[Amy] “Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you. I just haven’t let myself think about it for a long time.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs. “S’fine. I knew you’d tell me when you were ready…I never wanted to push.”

She pours some more. “Is it fucked-up that I really envy you?”

[Amy] “No. I envy you too.”

She scoots closer, leaning on Sarita now

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’d be a shitload better at this shit if I’d grown up around a sept, I think.” She shuts her eyes, downing some more. She’s in full-on drink it up mode. “And not just ‘Hey, here’s how to use your shit, go to this sept for a few months to figure shit out.'”

She sighs. “I wish I’d had Garou friends growing up. Or kinfolk.” Or you. I’m glad you had that.”

[Amy] “I’d be totally normal. If he had just fucked my mom and mated with yours, you would be unstoppable and I would never have known what I can’t do.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives an amused snort. “With our luck, I’da been the kin and you’da been the Garou at that point.”

[Amy] She laughs, nodding “Yeah. I can fucking see that.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Whenever you want, I’d love to hear more about your home sept.” She turns her head, resting her chin on top of Amy’s.

“You don’t gotta. Just…if you wanna. Sometime.”

[Amy] “Everybody there knows about you, you know. He used to brag about you all the time”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her nose wrinkles. “The fuck did he have to brag about? You know what I was doing until Mom died? Fucking guys in high school to get them to do my homework, dealing drugs to my classmates and generally just being the worst influence my school’d ever known.”

[Amy] “Well, if there was any question about if we were related, there you go.” She shrugs a shoulder, knocking back the rest of the tequila in her glass. “He’d always be like ‘I saw my daughter, and she did the most amazing fucking thing!’ ”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “He WHAT?” She straightens and the awkward leaning against the wall makes her lose her balance. The small amount of tequila in the glass splashes on her face, adding some sputtering and coughing to the embarrassment of the slip.

[Amy] Which, in Amy’s present state, is possibly the funniest thing she’s ever seen.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She scrambles up, looking too stunned by the revelation and the tequila bath to be pissed off. It’s coming, though. “Esteban fucking WATCHED me? Are you kidding?”

[Amy] “Um.” She stops laughing, then shrugs. “I guess?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gets up, stalking over toward the kitchen counter and grabbing one of the new dishrags to wipe her face off with. Amy can see the tension in her, from her lower back all the way into her neck.

“Here I thought he was just always fucking busy elsewhere and never had time to come by. Jesus Fuck.”

[Amy] “Never had time to come by where?”

She’d be confused, even if she wasn’t drunk.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “And see me.” She turns around, stalking back and swiping the bottle. “You know, come to Los Alamos and say ‘Hey. S’up. I’m your father.'”

[Amy] “Yeah… like, once a year. Fuck, Sar. You weren’t missing shit. I barely saw him more than that.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I never fucking met Esteban until the day after my mother died, Amy.” She raises the bottle to her lips, taking a heavy swig off of it. Yeah, she’s gonna be barely able to walk soon.

“And then I knew him for all of like three goddamn months.”

[Amy] “You’re fucking drunk.” She takes the bottle away, taking several gulps.

“He saw you every fucking year. I heard about it for weeks.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, he didn’t. I didn’t know him. At ALL.”

[Amy] “But….”

She’s confused, and drinks more from the bottle.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Never. Once. In. My Life.” She scowls, pacing. As much as a drunk person can pace.

[Amy] “Fucker.”

That sums it up, pretty much

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Unf…fuckingbelievable.” She looks like she could hit something. But she’d probably miss, unless it was air.

[Amy] “Fuck him.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “What’s the fuckin’ point o’ that shit? Why randomly fuck with your fuckin’ KIDS?”

[Amy] “You’re better fucking off. He was a fuck. He was fucking mean.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Fuck that shit. Fucker can fucking…get fucked.”

[Amy] She nods, then scrambles up to run into the kitchen and throw up.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Shit…” She moves to follow Amy, reaching out and clumsily gathering up the kinfolk’s hair.

[Amy] Fortunately, she’s got nothing but liquid in her stomach. Most of the tequilla comes back up, and she makes a miserable, groaning sound.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “C’mere.” She draws the kin to her, rubbing her back. “You’re ‘kay.”

[Amy] “Jesus fuck. I haven’t puked in years.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Really? Wow.”

[Amy] “The guys would have never let me hear the end of it. Then I wasn’t really drinking much when I was running around with him.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She breaks into a wide grin. The alcohol is really kicking in now. “So what you’re sayin’ is that you’re turning into a lightweight?”

[Amy] “Oh FUCK YOU”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She giggles a little. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

[Amy] “I clearly need to drink more” She turns the faucet on and scoops some water to rinse her mouth before spitting it out and turning around.

“So, this is it. Home sweet dirty little secret.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah…” She looks around, head swimming. “S’not bad, s’not bad. As secret pads go…”

[Amy] “Hunter stayed over the other night. We all wound up crashing in the living room”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That’s what I smell.” It’s unlikely she currently smells anything other than the tequila that splashed her face, really. She takes a lean against the wall, eyes shutting.

“S’cool, though. S’good, I guess.”

[Amy] “It was nice.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods a little bit. She walks over to grab the bottle for a drink.

“You got somethin’ better’n me. S’good.”

[Amy] “So come over and sleep in a pile of stinky fuckers.” Her hand is held out for the bottle.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shakes her head, taking another drink before passing the bottle back. “Uh-uh. That’d be kinda wierd.”

She sighs. “You gotta come hang with th’Unbroken, though. Seriously.”

[Amy] “Yeah. Okay. Pool days, right?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Fuck yes pool days.” She grins. “You an’ me are gonna act like it’s fuckin’ somewhere warm and be totally hot hangin’ out by the pool.”

[Amy] “Well. I’ll be hot. You’ll be like, a half hour after the pizza gets pulled out of the oven.”

She grins, ready to duck.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, FUUUUCK YOU.” She doesn’t take a swing or throw anything; instead she tries to tackle her with a laugh.

[Amy] She shrieks a little, trying to get out of the way and falling over instead.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She laughs and falls too, landing with a jarring ‘oof.’ She gets to her hands and knees, trying to drag Amy back to her.

“Who’s the hot one? Huh?”

[Amy] “Oh puh-lease! You saw them looking at me in the club. Hunter spilled his fucking drink.” She squirms and kicks, but it’s halfhearted at best.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She crawls as she pulls, taking the kick with an “OW!” and ending up sitting on Amy’s back.

“Yeah well, I can’t help if if they’re not used to quality hotness.”

[Amy] “Get the fuck off me. Jesus. What the fuck did you EAT?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I dunno, but at least it stayed down.” She says it with a tease, socking Amy in the leg before she rolls off her.

“I’m totally the hot one.”

[Amy] “Whatever you gotta tell yourself.” She sits up, grinning

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles and gives her a light kick to the leg. “Bitch.”

Her eyes shut, and she smiles. “Oh, wooooonderful spinniness…”

[Amy] Which makes her crack up, of course.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay, I will admit…” She finally opens her eyes, looking a bit green when the room keeps spinning.

“I like this whole lone house thing. Like the Broho, but not having to worry about anyone else just walking in…just chillin’. That’s damn cool.”

Never mind that they’re in what is essentially a Defiance safehouse and any of them could come in at any moment.

[Amy] “Pretty fucking cool, isn’t it? You gonna stay here tonight?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs. “S’it gonna piss off the guys if I do?”

[Amy] “No. And fuck ’em if it does. Besides, I think you get a free pass on wakin’ up and finding strange people in your space.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She snorts. “You have NO idea how fuckin’ panicked I was that someone was about to walk in at any moment, or even see when I walked out the door. I had to crack the fuckin’ thing and shimmy out.”

[Amy] “We had all our clothes on. Jesus.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, ’cause that woulda been better.”

[Amy] “You know Lukas pretty well. What do you think he’s going to say?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “About what? You and John?”

[Amy] “No, about Kate and the fucking Prince.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, it’s OUR Kate who’s marrying the Prince?” She grins at that.

“Seriously. I don’t fuckin’ know. I ain’t exactly broached the issue with him. ‘Hey Lukas, what do you think about Metis and Kinfolk? Cool, not cool?'”

She shakes her head. “Ain’t happened.”

[Amy] She nods, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You know the best way to get him on your side, right?’

[Amy] “Other than not fucking the Metis? Because that’s out.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Get to know him. Get him liking you. I mean, he already does like you. He’s told me that much. But still, right now you’re that sister of his packmate-to-be. If he thinks of you as a friend, it’ll be a lot harder for him to do something when or if something DOES come out.”

[Amy] “Katherine too?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods, stumbling to her feet and going for the bottle. She’s not done getting plastered yet.

“Katherine too. Have you even met Kate yet?”

[Amy] Her head shakes, the room continuing to spin even after she stops.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Dude, you totally need to. She seems severe, I know, and she is really formal-like, but she’s actually pretty fuckin’ cool.”

She takes a couple swallows off the bottle and moves to sit down again.

[John] SQUEEEEEK!

says the window in the kitchen to which John has grown accustomed climbing through rather than using a door like a normal person. Something stops him from just barreling through the window like he normally does: he hears voices. The females can hear whoever it is pause before a heavy body starts to climb through, slowly.

[Amy] She just relaxes completely when she hears the very obvious sounds of someone breaking in, leaning her head against the wall and smiling a little.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “If you’re here to burn, pillage and loot, make sure you do it in the right order!”

It’s shouted out to the direction of the window. She likely doesn’t realize that she actually SAID it in the wrong order.

[Amy] “Don’t take off, okay? Please?” She keeps her voice quiet as she leans to take the bottle from Sarita.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Dude, what. You think I’m driving anywhere like this?”

She keeps the bottle out of Amy’s hands long enough to get another drink. Sarita is in full-on lush mode at the moment, and she doesn’t care who sees it. She had to be the responsible one earlier today. The Ragabash, the RESPONSIBLE one. What kind of fucked up city is this? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the kind where a Strider lets her sister get involved with a Metis? Shut up you, it totally makes sense. It’s all about her backstory. No it’s not, there’s no “And then she fell in love with a Metis” in her backstory. …oh yeah? Well…I just forgot about it. You were going to make Sarita a Mary Sue, weren’t you? Blow me.

Finally, she gives the bottle over.

[John] He’s too large a guy to try and do anything stealthily, regardless of his permanent silence otherwise: the floorboards squawk beneath his weight as he moves toe-to-heel from the kitchen into the living room, as if he’s going to sneak up on whoever is camping out in–

Oh.
Oh, hi, Sarita.

John looks like he’s the last survivor of a goddamn airplane crash. His jeans and boots are filthy, and he’s not much better off. Blood stains his arms, particularly his wrists, and it’s crusted on his right eyebrow, beneath his nose, yet there are no wounds beneath it. He heals too quickly for much fuss to be raised over split skin and lost teeth.

His jacket is intact, but whatever shirt he’d had on underneath is no longer with us. His Rage, it’s worth mentioning, is completely drained. He could pass for human if he had a shower, if he didn’t possess mannerisms that were outright mammalian at times.

The metis stands in the doorway for several seconds, processing the drunk sisters in front of him, and he looks Amy over from a distance as though she’s the one who’s turned up bloody. When it finally sinks in that she’s okay, relief hits him so hard he leans against the archway, and he sighs. Taking a moment to scrub his face, smearing blood, when John collects himself he pulls his hand away and waves.

[Amy] The living room is pleasantly toasty, due to the newly acquired space heater and small generator chugging away to power it.

Amy looks up, still smiling. The smile fades when she sees him though, replaced by a look of pure guilt. Scrambling up, she moves too quickly and has to brace herself against the wall to keep from falling over.

“What happened, baby?” She knows, of course. Maybe this simple question, tossed out like any normal girl would pose it to any normal boy, will help make it less real though.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over at John, and her eyes go wide. “Oh fucking sonuvabitch [u]lo que la mierda que te pasó?[/i]”

If she noticed that she switched languages, she doesn’t show it. It’s possible she’s been going back and forth this whole time and Amy’s just been nice and not pointed it out.

[John] Though he doesn’t write or gesticulate, his reaction to Sarita’s tripping out of English into Spanish is naked and, considering the circumstances, absurdly comical: What the fuck did you just say to me?

They’re lucky he even speaks English. Given how long it’s taken him to learn that goddamn language he’ll be dead by the time he starts grasping Spanish.

The look to Sarita is quickly reeled in and cast toward Amy, who wants to know what happened. He scoffs, looking relatively miserable, and glances skyward. It’s a Lord help me that exists independent of faith or a deity in Garou mythology, and when he looks back down, John just holds a hand out to indicate Amy. He does it again, as if he’s wordlessly appealing her to explain to him what happened, then plants his hands on his hips. For several seconds all he does is look at her.

[Amy] “He talked to you too.” Fuck. She doesn’t look at him, eyes on the floor instead. Several seconds tick by before she attempts something to say that’s at least reasonable.

“You should go take a shower”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She purses her lips, staying where she is on the ground. Her arms wrap around her knees as she watches them, feeling suddenly like an intruder in their place.

[John] Considering he can’t lie worth a damn, it can’t be a good sign when John’s face hemorrhages expression. The way he looks at Amy after she says ‘he’ talked to him ‘too’ is almost entirely devoid of emotion, as though he doesn’t even have the energy necessary to react anymore. His jaw is set even in the absence of his Rage, and she can see a light in his eyes that speaks of the depth of his love for her, but beyond that he could be a statue now.

Something passes through him, but he doesn’t feel it necessary to share with the rest of the class. A drawn, loud breath, and he looks over to Sarita. His eyebrows furrow, slow and expectant, and his eyes are imploring. Even intoxicated, grasping at his question isn’t much of a stretch.

Did you know?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She puts her index fingers up, trying to get to her feet and failing as she falls back on her ass.

“I can…OW! Sonuvafucking puta bitch-ass floor. John…I knew he hit her, yeah. You gotta gimme a minute. I did NOT just sit around an’ do nothing, if that’s what you’re implyin’.”

[Amy] “I asked her to leave it alone. Just like I asked you, and I asked Hunter.”

[John] At Sarita’s falling back, John drops his hands off of his hips and starts across the room. If he had not frenzied earlier, he might have been rough with her, might have actually hurt her; he still grabs hold of her arm instead of taking her by the hand, and hauls the Ragabash to her feet instead of helping her. The female is not so short that he towers over her, yet even without his totem’s assistance the metis is physically stronger than her. Once she’s standing, or leaning against the wall, he steps back.

Then Amy speaks up. She asked her to leave it alone.

John blinks, the answer clearly not what he wanted to hear. His eyes are a color more akin to ice than sky at the moment, and there is no apology in them. Without explaining why, he looks back to Sarita and gestures to her sister, eyebrows lifted this time.

[Amy] “Hey!” She pushes off the wall and stumbles, crashing into him before pushing herself back off. “You don’t hurt her, you hear me? You don’t EVER fucking hurt her”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives a bit of a yelp as she’s yanked up. The rough action forces a bit of sobriety on her, but she’s still very tipsy. She puts her hands up again, shaking her head. “No. Yes, I mean, that was part of it. Wasn’t all of it, though. Lemme explain.”

She sighs, and shakes her head. This isn’t going to be easy. When Amy does that though, she is stunned into silence. “.,.Amy.” Okay, except for that word, silence. Her eyes are wide, looking between them. She looks like a rate caught in a cage for the moment, deeply uncomfortable.

[John] His nostrils flare when Amy crashes into him, but it isn’t his hackles raising: he’s scenting her, even in his ineffective human skin, and that’s when the alcohol hits him.

He holds up his hands in a universal gesture of being unarmed, of meaning no harm, yet the look on his face is both bewildered and irritated. He stands like this for a few seconds, as if he needs to demonstrate to her that he is not, in fact, going to hurt her sister, then looks back to Sarita. His hands go back to his hips.

This close, without a shirt beneath the open jacket, Sarita can see the array of battle scars cut across the front of the Modi. None of them are higher than his heart, yet it seems as though he has been clawed, bitten and stabbed to death plenty of times in his life.

He’s stubborn enough to keep on living despite everything he’s likely endured in his life; he can afford a few extra seconds to allow a Ragabash to speak. At least the chance of him frenzying is nearly nonexistent.

[Amy] “Yeah. Well. Just.” She scowls, the expression fading quickly and alcohol fueled into something that’s more like agony as she steps back and crosses her arms over her middle.

“Neither of you can get hurt. Ever.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She stares at Amy a moment, as it blasted into mindlessness by the enormity of what just happened. She blinks, and then looks back at John, who is looking at her expectantly.

Oh, right, explanation. This is going to suck.

She chews on her lip. “Listen…I wanted to rip him to shreds. I wanted to put enough bullets in him that he didn’t ever get back up, and frankly, I didn’t care if I got kicked out of the Nation or killed for it. That’s the motherfuckin’ truth.” Now ~she’s~ starting to get angry. That’s the problem with alcohol, and it is pretty much her moon. Only the tiniest sliver of Luna is in the sky.

“You think I liked having to take her to the fucking hospital because she had a concussion? Do you? Fuck no. But she was hurt. And I needed to be there for my sister. Not off being some vengeance-driven bitch who only wanted to kill MY pain. Yes, she asked me not to. And there was a good reason I didn’t.”

She looks at Amy, knowing this is likely to piss her off, and looks back to John. “Amy was in a delicate place, John. She had everything being taken away from her. Her chance at a pack. You. Everything she wanted, and Leon took advantage of that. If I killed him, I was taking something else away from her, and it could have destroyed her. Killing Leon wouldn’t have done me any good if Amy was destroyed too. So I did what I could and I made sure that Amy was safe. I pulled the plug on them, and I made sure it was kept pulled. Now, should I have gone after him? Maybe. But forgive me for being willing to risk the chance that the price of vengeance was that the one thing I love in this world was lost, either to me or to everyone.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[forgive me for being NOT willing]]

[John] She explains. That’s all he’d wanted from her, but that doesn’t quiet him at all. John scrubs his face, as if briefly covering his eyes with a large hand is going to stop them from hearing the by-now-familiar sigh escape his lungs, and reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket to pull out the leather-bound journal he keeps with him. It’s nearly half-filled after only a month, but not all of it is words and glyphs: some pages are just sketches, drawings, half-finished in most cases.

He flips to a clean page, and starts writing in his sloppy left-handed writing. Third grade boys have better handwriting than John does. Whatever he’s scrawling out takes a while.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs, her energy spent for the moment in that tirade, she she takes a step to the side to lean against the wall. This is where she sees everything going bad. Defiance decides to hate her, and thus she gets alienated from Amy. Who she probably just alienated anyway. And that’ll be it. Because of her mistake, she’ll be lost.

She watches John. Watches him write. And she waits to see what’s been said.

[Hunter] It’s late in the night when Hunter finally stumbles upon his pack-mate and the two Striders. He has been busy the entire time, getting advised by Joey, getting taken on hunts and beating things up, working the anger out until there’s nothing remaining but the horrid gash on the side of his face and eyes that seem far too tired.

He doesn’t knock, he doesn’t even announce his presence, it’s like he’s walking into his own home and it’s probably a foolish person here who disputes that. But he doesn’t seem angry when he stumbles inside, he seems spent – drained – exhausted to the point of mindlessness. His hand shakes though he hides it inside the pocket of his jacket. It’s not the actual news that has him like this, but the steadily built up effects, the denial of release, the refusal to frenzy, it has drained him and left him weaker than he has been in a long time.

“Hey,” he mumbles to all three of them, turns to John and it’s there his eyes focus. “You alright?”

[Amy] And there they go. She shakes her head when Hunter walks in, arms tighter around her middle as she leans back into the wall again.

[John] He tears out the page instead of leaving it in the journal. He’s done this numerous times, but the binding wasn’t designed for that: it’s going to loosen and spill all of the pages eventually. So it goes. John hands the paper to Sarita, yet there is nothing written that he wouldn’t expose Amy to if he could speak.

amunet is strong but shes your sister. how it luk if i tel master of chalenj i want greevance settled? cant. they ask why i hit him kill him they find out i do it protekt amunet they ask why. i say why i dont no wat hapen to her. they kil me probly.

you hav to protekt her and other kinfolk
wat if he do it to sumon els?

i see him agin and he not punishd – i kil him

As Sarita is reading this, Hunter lets himself in. John looks the exact opposite of physically alright, actually looks as though he frenzied, was nearly arrested and killed someone, although the order in which this occurred is questionable.

As for whether he himself is psychologically alright: it’s John. Fenrir won’t rather commit seppuku than admit to having feelings.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She reads it, and she nods. She didn’t expect less.

When Hunter comes in, she looks down. The normally in-your-face Sarita doesn’t even look the Bone Gnawer in his, nor John after that. She may be sobered up in mood, but she is still drunk, and that’s making her a lot more honest that she otherwise would be. That honesty comes in the fact that John completely put her in her place, and she knows it.

“Hey,” she says to Defiance leader, as she wobbles over to find the bottle. “I fucking need más para beber..”

[Amy] She looks over John, looks over Hunter…. Then snorts. When she speaks, her words are angry.

“Usted podría haber muerto. Cualquiera de ustedes. Ambos de ustedes. Maldito hombre obstinado. ¿Alguna vez piensa en lo que se iba a pasar usted murieron a causa de algo que hice? Se me iba a matar.”

[Hunter] He frowns, she knows he understands the words, why she chooses that language is lost on him — unless she doesn’t want John to hear. “I was fuckin’ fine.” He was not. “Me too Sarita, me too.”

[Amy] “Usted no se les permite hacer esto a mí. No puedes hacer que me sienta seguro, y luego tomar todo por la borda.”

She turns and storms away, into the bathroom to slam the door. The shower starts a moment later.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She takes a swig of the tequila bottle, and staggers over to hand it to Hunter. The two Garou can see several grocery bags, most of them empty, on the kitchen counter. The cabinets are now stocked with non-perishables. They may have also noticed the generator and space heater sitting in the main room.

“Relax,” she says when Amy’s gone off. “S’fine. She’s only doin’ it ’cause she’s upset and scared. She’ll chill out. She’s not legit…legitimately angry.”

[Hunter] He takes the bottle, wraps a large worn hand around it and almost raises it to his lips before pausing and frowning at the Strider. “You okay? Sorry to fuckin’ bail on you, didn’t trust myself round you two, could’a done somethin’ stupid.”

Swig. Yum.

[Amy] The door swings open again. Amy stands in the doorway, arms crossed.

“You both fucking need showers. Get the fuck in there. Please.”

[John] Nobody translates what just went on, and nobody tells him why Amy storms out of the room, and John does not appear to be in the mood to chase, wheedle or ask someone to cross two language barriers to help him understand. He’s covered in blood, shirtless, and completely tapped of Rage. Already today he’s gotten into trouble, and there is most likely an APB out for a tall blue-eyed Caucasian.

There are maybe two of them in this neighborhood.

He leaves anyway.

[Amy] That knocks the wind out of her sails. Water left running, she trails out after John to catch him.

“I’m sorry. Don’t go. Please?”

[Hunter] A sigh from Hunter and he stops John from leaving, then says directly to him. “Where the fuck you goin’? She’s all scared and shit don’t fuckin’ run out on her.”

That might be all the translation he gets because Hunter is about as patient as a fucking live wire right now. John probably is too, this could get ugly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I understand, really.” She’s definitely 2.89 sheets to the wind at the moment. Pretty exact number. How do you figure? Easy. Carry the one, divide by pi, take the square root of it and Kiss My Ass because it was a joke. Jokes are funny, though. Yeah, like your face. Wow, we’ve hit sixth grade now? Oh, shut up.

Yeah, so she’s almost totally drunk. She nods a little. “I get it. I was just worried y’were gonna do somethin’ t’someone else y’regretted. Y’know I almost got Simon to beat the snot out of me rather that go out of a club all pissy? But yeah, I get it.”

[Amy] “You WHAT?!?”

Her attention turns on Sarita, more anger in her tone now. “Lo que en el coño te pasa?”

[John] John is a saint on his best days, capable of tolerating so much aggravation and outright bullshit that it’s not even funny; today is not a good day, but even at his worst, John makes the effort. He made an effort, and that was all he had, apparently.

‘She’s scared’ doesn’t register with him, or else he stopped listening.

He nearly tears the back door off the hinges as he walks out of the kitchen.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, HAY.” She looks at Amy. “A, That shit was a while back. B, Better me than him killing someone. I heal. C, He didn’t, my gambit worked–though my rogue was off getting her hair streaked and stealing someone’s powers…” She grins, seeming to find that funny. “So chill.”

[Amy] She’s caught.

Her eyes dart wildly between Sarita and John, a look of absolute panic on her face. Sarita’s joking doesn’t do anything to calm her, and she flinches when she hears the back door yanked open.

Tequilla makes her weepy on even her party days. This is why she doesn’t drink it anymore. Weepy has definitely taken over, but she’s quiet about it.

[Hunter] “I’m takin’ that shower.” Whether was stopped or not, Hunter strips out of his upper layers revealing tanned skin and a myriad of battle scars, left rib to hip, thick barb marks on his shoulders, a vicious claw mark on his right side. The marks on his shoulders and upper arms look remarkably like the teeth of something Amy fought recently. It seems that was not his first encounter with such a beast.

His garments are dropped on the floor and he wanders down to the bathroom, shouting things like “Fuck him! John you fuck!” He suddenly stops in the hallway outside the bathroom, half stripping out of his pants. “He’ll come around! Just let em’ go, I’ll talk to em’ while I shower,” and he disappears inside the bathroom.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She winces when John makes his exit, rubbing at her face.

“Fucking hell.” She frowns. “My bad.” She doesn’t really know what IS her bad, but she’s pretty sure it’s her.

[Amy] She moves close enough to a wall that she can lean on it, arms crossed around her middle.

[John] [Thanks, guys! I gotta get ready to leave work!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Thanks!]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs and walks over, wrapping her arms around Amy.

“M’sorry. I suck at this shit.”

[Amy] She doesn’t say anything, barely counter leaning.

[Hunter] Shower noises. Some horrible singing, something like bohemian rhapsody, interrupted now and then by totem conversation.

Mama, Just killed a man! put a gun against his —

Derp.

Head! Pulled the trigger now he’s–

Hm.

Dead! Mama!..

[how bad is he]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 4 (Failure at target 7)

[Amy] (Woooow 🙂 )

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Yeesh!]]

[Hunter] [christ, I’m a talented musician and Hunter sounds like a fucking honey badger]

[Amy] [Irony, baby!]

[Hunter] [don’t lie he’s fucking hot sounding you are all jealous]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “It’ll be fine. I promise.” She cradles Amy a bit against her, sighing. “Just…rough day.”

[Amy] “Fucking my whole life is in this fucking house, Sar.” She pauses, recalling the recently yanked door. “Was in this house.”

Her head shakes and she sighs. “If anything happens to you guys, I’ll die.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “A, nothing’s gonna happen to us.” She kisses her sister’s forehead. “And B, don’t say shit like that. Please.”

[Amy] She hiccups a breath, but doesn’t say anything.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “C’mon. Let’s go sit somewhere.”

[Amy] Shrugging, she shuffles back into the living room and flops down on the blanket.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She waits until Amy is settled, and then she shifts. The Strider doesn’t take other forms often, and most have not seen her in Lupus outside of Moots. Even Amy has probably only seen it a handful of times; she would under no circumstances change in a situation where people she didn’t know incredibly well were present.

Here, she’s taking that chance. The proper circumstance has been found. The Strider takes her jackal-like form and nudges Amy with her head before curling up next to her sister.

[Amy] She clears her throat, raising her voice loud enough to be heard in the shower. And down the block probably.

“Jesus FUCK Matthews. Fucking rub one out in your own shower.”

[Amy] She pets Sarita, scratching gently at the back of her neck.

[Hunter] It isn’t that long before they hear the shower cease it’s rattling spray upon porcelain, earlier his voice had stopped croaking that horrible rendition of Queen’s most beloved song. When he emerges he has a towel about his waist, muscled form revealed but he doesn’t seem to take any notice of it, like it’s no big deal.

“Hey, hey, hey..” Hey says in soothing tones. “Man’s gotta clean up right? Man-sculpture and all that, whatever those metro fags call it.”

A pause and he looks at the jackal-like strider and the kin. Once upon a time his tribe called him Jackal, due to his pure chocolate brown coat, devoid of any tints or marring like the gnawers are used to. A long look at Sarita, a thoughtful expression and a smile. There is no mistaking the Ahroun for anything but a brutal killing machine in any of his forms, but something warms his heart when he sees the Jackal, something deeply personal.

He slumps against a wall and slides down to the ground.

“Like I’d beat one out in ‘the house’ that’s fuckin’ gross.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She makes a sound like a chuff, that sounds amused at Amy’s bellow. She lifts her head when Hunter comes out, head cocking a bit to the side. She watches him, then settles back down.

[Amy] “That’s gross? With all the shit John’s been doing to me like, all over this place?”

She grins, probably teasing.

Probably.

[Hunter] “Ughhhhhhhhh, you did not just fuckin’ say that. What the hell amy. That’s like hearin’ about my sister gettin’ reamed by some biker. I don’t wanna know that shit.”

[Amy] She smiles sweetly, motioning him over. “Come sit the fuck down”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She makes a quick whining sound when Amy teases and looks at Hunter, since she knows he can likely .

Not want to know either.

Still, she’s got the amusement in her deeply expressive eyes. She settles her head down and shuts her eyes.

[Amy] “Oh for fuck’s sake, Sar. Calm the fuck down. We haven’t done anything, anywhere.”

She scritches behind ears, glancing at Hunter again.

[Hunter] He sighs, looks across at the Kinswoman and expresses what can only be described as fondness mixed with annoyance and humour. The fondness over-comes though, and he lifts onto his knees, keeping a secure grip on the towel at his waist and shuffles across the room to slump down next the Amy.

The look from Sarita is understood and he gives her a sympathetic glance, grinning. I know right? His body is warm, not spent of Rage, like a hot rock in the summer sun.

[Amy] She leans into him, head on his shoulder. “If I tell you that I love you, you’re going to know what I mean and not freak the fuck out on me, right?”

[Hunter] He blinks, looks at the Jackal-formed Sarita and laughs, like she always like this? A grin though, followed by an understanding smile – that’s what separates the humour from acknowledgement and he looks Amy in the eyes.

“Course, guess you understand why I had to wait for Joey then?”

[Amy] Joey is, apparently, somewhat of a sore spot with her. She nods, eyes on Sarita’s head as she gently pulls her ears.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] There is a decidedly human-like lifting of her shoulders, like a shrug. It looks exceptionally strange on her, but she’s too lazy right now to provide the full body language that would translate into You’re just figuring this out?

Not long after, the No-Moon’s breathing is slow and even, consciousness having left her.

[Hunter] [empathy!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Ever wonder why we even bother Emping Amy these days? 😀 ]]

[Amy] [HA!]

[Hunter] “What’s up Amy? Ain’t got nothin’ smart to say about that?”

[im totally upping empathy this month]

[Amy] [It won’t help. She’s fireproof]

[Amy] Her head shakes a little.

“What did he say?”

[Hunter] “What did who say?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Thanks for the scene you guys. 🙂 Night!]]

[Hunter] [Night!]

[Amy] “Don’t be an ass. You said you were going to talk to him while you were in the shower.”

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A Long Talk, Then Clubbin’

[Amy] More than half her stuff is packed into her bags which are piled on top of her bed. The bed she hasn’t slept in in a few nights, now.

When she slips into the room, she knows that it’s time to face the music.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita knew that this decision would involve change. When she came home last night to find Amy’s stuff packed, she realized that it was far more change than she was aware of. She’s sitting on the bed, staring at Amy’s. The Strider doesn’t look as if she’s slept all night; she’s dressed in a white tank top and jeans. An ashtray full of cigarettes sits on her bed. She looks…tired. Worn down…exhausted. A little bit haunted.

She doesn’t look up when the door opens and closes, just takes a drag off her cigarette. “Hey.”

[Amy] “Hey”.

She smells like him. Not in a ‘Broke the fuck out of the Litany’ way, but in a has spent several hours in contact with him way. It’s faint, and people wouldn’t notice. But Sarita isn’t people, and Amy comes to flop down on her sister’s non-luggage-laden bed with her. She’s not hiding anything in the brief minutes that she doesn’t have to.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over finally, settling tired eyes on the kiinfolk. The smell is obvious to her, and she takes a breath before looking back to the other bed. “So, when were you gonna tell me you were moving out?”

[Amy] “When I explained what the deal was.” She looks over her semi-packed things too. “It’s one of Hunter’s conditions. I move to Bronzeville, so that we have some sort of cover. I told him I wasn’t going without you.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She snorts. “Wow. So my choice now is to move away from the rest of my tribemates that were currently living here, or go back on the whole thing and say ‘Fuck off, I’m not cool with this’ and be the bitch.”

Letting Amy go without her isn’t even mentioned as an option, because to the Ragabash, it isn’t one.

[Amy] “You’re going to fucking make me choose too? Fucking really?”

She hops up, favoring her still not entirely healed wrist as she searches through her bags for the Ace bandage.

“I already fucking picked him over Stefan, and him over fighting, and fucking Bronzeville over fucking indoor pool at fucking Katherine’s. I’ve picked him over every other fucking option there was, and now it’s going to be all for shit because you’re going to make me pick too?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Did I say that?” Her anger rises, at the same time that she rises off the bed.

“You didn’t fucking tell me this when you asked me. And you damn well know that this completely changes MY fucking life as well. You’re making me lie to my fucking packmates-to-be. At least you MADE the choice between Bronzeville or Bellemonte Loft. I apparently didn’t get that choice. Frankly Amy, I think you’d choose him if it meant that you got beaten within an inch of your life every god damned day. And you don’t care who else you hurt when you do it, you selfish bitch.”

[Amy] “Fuck you.”

She doesn’t look behind her as she wraps the wrist, trying to keep her breathing even and slow and getting even more angry when it hitches and gives her away.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her jaw is set, hands clenched into fists at her side. Some of the anger immediately drains at that tell-tale sign in the catch of Amy’s breath, and when she speaks again, it’s calmer.

“Tell me that I’m wrong, and I’ll apologize.”

[Amy] “If you don’t want to go, then we don’t go.” She briefly wonders how many conditions Hunter would let her wriggle around before he just put an end to it himself.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “It frankly doesn’t make sense.” She shakes her head and walks over to Amy. She wills her anger away and slips her arms around her sister, leaning on her. It’s most for support, but because the No-Moon is a but unsteady on her feet.

“Nobody gives a shit if you make trips to Bronzeville. That should be obvious by now. If we move out of the Brotherhood into Bronzeville, people will start wondering why. Especially when I’m moving into another pack’s territory despite being not being a part of them. Double especially if Hunter is right about the fact that they were looking at me first, and told Lukas that. That needs to be talked out.”

[Amy] “I’m just doing what he says, Sar.” She sounds exhausted, wiping her eyes with her freshly wrapped hand and leaning back into his sister. “There isn’t a fuck of a lot that I wouldn’t have agreed to”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, he’s being a fucking idiot. No one’s tailing you into their territory.”

[Amy] “Yet.”

[Amy] She pulls her phone out, texting with one hand and waiting.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Why would they at all?” She frowns. “You’re doing shit with the pack. That’s not news. Although, I guess you’re not now, which is kinda also stupid because it means ‘Okay, we’re going to throw away a perfectly valid cover and replace it with one that seems completely out of the blue.'”

[Amy] “No. I’m not doing shit with the pack. Not anymore.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I hate how much you’re changing yourself for this.”

[Amy] “I can still do shit, just not for Defiance. I can still do whatever Lukas lets me have.”

Which, from her tone, she doesn’t expect to be much.

[Amy] Her phone beeps, and she reads. “He wants to know what issues.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “We’ll have shit for you to do.”

She frowns when Amy reports what the text says. “Just tell him that I want to talk to him about the living situation.”

[Amy] Type type type. “Should I probably mention that I was a complete pain in his ass last night?”

[Amy] She winces when the return text comes through, handing the phone to Sarita and wandering back to the clear bed.

“nothing to talk bout she can live there or not live there, not my problem, your choice”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She scowls. “Fuck off, dickbag.” She dials the number and puts it to her ear.

[Amy] It’s a test. It has to be. The whole thing is just a sick fucking joke to see how loyal she can be. There’s no going back at this point, though. Stefan will join Defiance, and that’s the end of him. She still won’t be able to work with them. She won’t even be able to be friends with them.

Making her pick between any of them and her sister? They should have known that’s the one place she’d draw a big fucking line.

But then again, maybe that’s what they were counting on, Ames. Because you can’t take a fucking hint.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, Hunter.” She starts to pace, putting on a smile and taking a good-natured tone. “We gotta chat a bit about this moving thing.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles a bit at Amy and starts to talk. “So, here’s the thing. You’re going to draw a lot more attention to the situation if Amy and I move out of the Brotherhood out of nowhere and into your territory. Especially when I’m packing up with Lukas and company. And honestly, I don’t get how this works as a cover, since no one is questioning why Amy’s spending time in Bronzeville anyway. I mean, you’re talking about being worried about sneaking through the tall grass, so you’re instead having her set fire to the grass instead.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, yeah. She insisted because my sister and I don’t live apart.” It’s said fairly matter-of-factly, with a sense of finality to it. “We are a package item, and that’s something that needs to be clearly understood out of the gate. Now frankly, I don’t see the problem as long as they’re not showing up at the Brotherhood for their dates or hanging out cuddling there together, but hey, I can compromise. What I’m saying is having us live in Bronzeville as a primary residence is equally not an option.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She frowns at what comes over the receiver, a look that says she’s not particularly pleased with what was just said.

“Like I said, a compromise. To find out what a decent compromise spot would be, I just need to know what you’re looking at for this living place. Are you expecting somewhere that they’ll be able to hang out and be a happy couple? Just a place where she’s not going to be followed leaving from, or what?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “None taken. And that’s what I’m saying…people wouldn’t bat an eye if Amy moved out into your territory, but me they would. And we’re a team.” She sighs. She hates this whole thing. She hates the way that it’s changing Amy and turning their lives upside down.

“Here’s what I’ll say. We’ll get a spot more or less halfway between the Unbroken’s loft and Bronzeville. I’ll try to get a spot within the loft itself too; she’s gonna be doing work with the Unbroken, it’s going to be necessary so that Lukas doesn’t just show up at her front door with ‘Hey, I have a job for you.’ Which I don’t think he would, but I’m being cautious here. That’ll give us a spot outside of your territory but a lot closer than we are now, with a private location that has no kinfolk or True eyes but mine. And it’ll also mean that I’m having to be a lot less dishonest to my packmates-to-be.”

[Amy] She hops up suddenly, shaking her head and heading out the door “I gotta pee. I’ll be right back.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s laying down on her bed when Amy gets back, the ashtray on her chest and a cigarette being smoke. She seems more relaxed, now. A little, at least.

[Amy] She’s gone longer than is necessary for a potty break. Her knuckles are scraped up when she gets back.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks up from her bed at Amy when she comes in, frowning a bit. “Jesus Fuck, girl. What the hell did you do this time?”

She gestures to Amy’s hands, to make sure Amy knows she’s talking about that and not something she may have discussed with Hunter on the phone.

[Amy] “Hit stuff” She leans in the doorway. “So?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “So, compromise accepted.” She smiles tiredly. “We got time to find a place between the Loft and Bronzeville. I’m thinking we can find something cheap near the University. I’ll hit up Katherine, see if we can claim a room at the Loft as well. In the meantime, when you wanna meet with your boy-toy, to quote Hunter ‘they meet at ‘the house’, whether she’s livin’ there or not.'”

[Amy] “How pissed is he?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I think he was okay by the end. He was kind of pissy about midway through…or he just doesn’t like a hell of a lot of talking being sent his way. But I think he’s cool.”

[Amy] “He’s going to think I changed my mind.” She drifts over to the first aid kit that they keep stocked, cleaning up the blood on her knuckles.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “About being with him?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Seriously, I think Hunter’s fine.”

[Amy] “About agreeing to all his conditions.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, some of his conditions were bullshit and he put you on the spot. I’m your voice of reason, looking out for you.”

She looks over, watching Amy through shadowed eyes. “Can I ask something? What big changes is John making in all of this, to be with you?”

[Amy] “Putting his ass on the line, knowing that when the all find out, it’s not an unreasonable expectation that they may just slit his throat.”

She looks over at Sarita, challenging her to argue the weight of the concessions.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods, not arguing that. “And you could be fucked, too. My point is, you’re changing your whole life around for this. And there’s a shit-ton of risk for all involved…I just wanna know it’s not all you making yourself what he wants to be. Bein’ with someone is about loving who they are. Sure, tweaks might happen here or there, but…”

She shrugs. “You know what I’m saying?”

[Amy] “I know.” She at least has the good grace to look ashamed. Once her knuckles are cleaned, she comes to sit on the bed again. “How long do we have to find somewhere?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Wasn’t specified. I’ll go out looking tomorrow.” She sighs. “And I’m assuming by that look that it’s all you changing.”

She stubs the cigarette out. “I’m still not going to let you become something that the you before you met John would have hated. Just so you know.”

[Amy] “All I’m doing is not fighting with Defiance anymore.” You know. The only pack she’s actually been able to do anything with so far. “Nothing else is going to be any different.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay. I’m just putting that out there, so you know not to be pissed if I start giving you shit as needed.”

She gives a faint smile.

[Amy] “Can you do me a favor?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “If I can, of course.”

[Amy] “Don’t call him my boy toy. This isn’t something I’m going to just get tired of in a week. He’s not somebody to keep me company until a new somebody comes along. It’s disrespectful to talk about him like he is.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles a little, apologetically.

“I wasn’t trying to imply that. I’d call someone’s mate a boy toy. I know this isn’t just some fling for you, obviously.”

[Amy] “You know that dad is rolling over in his fucking grave right now.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs. “Why, ’cause you’re settling down, or who you’re settling down with?”

[Amy] “The who. He made it pretty clear that he expected me to be” She shifts into a deeper, gravely voice that’s a fair representation of the man “Hecho con toda esta mierda y actuar correctamente algún día.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A snort, and she shakes her head. “I loved Esteban…you know that, right? At least, as much as a girl can love a dad she knew for all of like eight weeks. But homey had no room to talk about doing the right thing. You know that as well as I.”

[Amy] “Well, I fucking hated him. So he can shove his right thing right up his ass”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Can I ask something?” She looks over at Amy. “If you hated him so much, what’s with the whole, ‘hunting down his killer’ thing? Was that just looking for a way to get in on action, or was it legit?”

[Amy] “I want to hunt down the fucker. He was still our father. Even if he was an extraordinarily shitty father.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A little nod. “Fair enough. Had to ask.”

[Amy] “Because I’ve been too busy seeing what I can beat up and who I can fuck”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, ’cause I’ve always kinda wondered.” She shrugs. “I know how much you hate him, so…the question was always kinda there in the back of my head. Probably shoulda asked earlier.”

[Amy] “I didn’t hate him until mom got sick, and they couldn’t find him.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s quiet for a little bit. “What was he like when he got back and found out?”

[Amy] “Pissed off. He wasn’t expecting to have to take me with him when he left again.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Was he upset?”

[Amy] “I can’t say he wasn’t, but I never saw it if he was. They didn’t like each other very much.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She frowns at that, and nods. “Gotcha.”

[Amy] “Do you ever wonder what would have happened, if you were the one he was around, and I was the one that barely knew him?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “A lot actually, yeah.” She sighs and sets the ashtray down, turning to curl on her side toward Amy.

[Amy] “I don’t think that either of us would have been nearly as fucked up as we are.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Maybe. We might not know each other either, though.”

[Amy] “We probably wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have had any reason to come find you.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “So thanks dad for that, at least.” She gives a faint, though somewhat strained, smile.

[Amy] “Fuck him.” She turns to her side to face Sarita now. “The other night at the house? The first fucking night we’re together and we don’t have to worry about anything, you know what he did?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] An eyebrow arches. “What?”

[Amy] “He asked me to tell him about myself. About where I came from and shit. Shit that other guys never bothered with.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles a little. “Very nice.”

[Amy] “I told him all about home and mom and wandering. About how I used to fucking hate you, until I found you.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay, so I don’t want to beat his ass quite as much now. That’s good.”

[Amy] “He isn’t like other guys, that’s for sure. In a lot of ways that makes me crazy, but in some ways…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs, and shuts her eyes. “Yeah. He seems great.”

[Amy] “You can fucking hate him if you want. You don’t have to like him just because I’m in love with him.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I don’t hate him. Not at all.”

[Amy] “I’m sorry.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs. “I’m disgustingly jealous of you. You know that, right?”

[Amy] “Because I’m in an impossible situation that is only going to get people hurt?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “’cause you got someone who makes you happy.”

[Amy] “It’ll happen, Sar. And fuck, you’re getting a pack. So we’re pretty fucking even in the jealousy department.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs a little bit, turning on her back to stare at the ceiling. “Fair enough, I guess.”

[Amy] “So we’re each getting something that the other wants.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A faint smile. “Yeah. Lucky us.”

[Amy] “It will be nice to have a place, though. Just ours, you know?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, that’ll be nice. Just keep the fuckin’ noise down, a’ight?” A little grin emerges.

[Amy] “Fucking bitch.” Her nose wrinkles. “Hunter said she’s not a friend or anything, so fuck her.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles. “I wasn’t talking about that. I mean that you’re loud, Screamer.”

[Amy] “Yeah, well, lucky fucking you. I guess part of keeping it on the down low is going to have to be me keeping quiet.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Naah. You don’t have to worry about anyone else finding out. You just have to worry about me turning the hose on you guys.”

[Amy] “We’ll probably be at the house most of the time. It’s kind of our place.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh. Well, okay.” She looks over. “Does that mean I’m never gonna see you?”

[Amy] “No, that doesn’t mean you’re never going to see me. Shit, you’ll probably see more of me now that I’m not going to be playing musical beds.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Sorry. I just remember when you were with Leon, you were here like one out of every three nights.”

[Amy] “Yeah… you know what he told me? I went to see him the other day.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Who Leon?” Her nose wrinkles. “What did he say?”

[Amy] She nods slowly. “He said that if I wanted, he’d claim me and then let me go to John.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She snorts. “Yeah, ’cause he’s totally all trust-worthy and shit. Fuck him and his fucking bullshit.”

[Amy] “He scares me now. Still… ” She shrugs. “It was sweet to offer. Unless it was just a ploy to get me to agree to let him claim me.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, it totally was. I have no doubt about it.”

[Amy] She’s quiet for a few seconds before launching in again. “Stefan said that if things don’t work out with John, that he’d like to try again.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She blinks. “Wait…seriously?”

[Amy] “Seriously. But he’s packing with Defiance, so…” She shrugs a shoulder.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “So who the fuck cares? If he’s supposed to be okay with John being with you, then John should be able to be okay if the reverse happens.”

[Amy] “Yeah, I know. Fuck, it might not even come up. Or he might be involved with somebody else when it does. I think it just says something that he even offered, you know? I come and tell him that it’s been fun but I’m going to go off and sneak around with a Metis, and he says that he’ll take me back if it doesn’t work out.”

She blinks hard when the words come out of her mouth, as if she hadn’t quite thought about it like that before.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over at Amy, blinking.

“Dude, seriously. How the hell do you fucking do it?”

[Amy] “It’s not as much fun as it might seem. I feel pretty shitty about it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’m not saying it’s fun. I’m just saying I’d like to harness a fucking fraction of it.”

[Amy] “Yeah, well, you can have it. I’ve got the one that I want now”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Just write down your secret or, like, distill it into an essence. Then I’ll be set.”

[Amy] “Fuck, I learn to distill that shit and we’re fucking selling it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Potential Side Effects: May cause insanity and Obsession Over Metis”

[Amy] “Total fucking insanity.” She nods, looking thoughtful. “You think I wouldn’t be all like this if he wasn’t Metis?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, I don’t think it has to do with him being Metis, other than the fact that it makes sure you’re not relegating to being the baby-maker. I think you’d still be like this if you’d let him have a chance.”

[Amy] “Yeah. I told myself that’s all it was, too. But it was bullshit. I mean, the part where he’s had to work his ass off too, just to get a chance. That’s more it than anything.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods a little. “Yeah, I can see where that appeals to you.”

[Amy] “That, and he’s got a fucking HUGE cock.” She manages to keep a straight face for ten whole seconds before she cracks up

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She rolls her eyes. “DUDE. Did NOT need to know that.”

[Amy] “Which is why I said it. You can decide how true it is.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’m not going to think about it.”

[Amy] “You believe me, right?” She’s more subdued now, moving to lie on her back and look up at the ceiling.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “About what?”

[Amy] “That I’d ditch him if it came down to him or you.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A slight shrug. “Would you be angry if I said that I wasn’t completely sure?”

[Amy] “No.” She sighs. “I don’t get to be pissy over something like that. Not after all the other shit.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, not an issue now.”

[Amy] “What do you want to do tonight?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A little smile. “Something that doesn’t involve us sitting in here talking.”

[Amy] “She hops up, stretching.” Good. Where to?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Fuck if I know. A bar, a club, whatever. Just get me the fuck out of this room, I’ve been staring at your bed for since like eleven o’clock last night.”

[Amy] She winces, nose wrinkling. “Sorry…. So… Club?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sounds good. She sits up, sighing. “Lemme go shower, and I’ll be good.”

[Amy] “Yeah. I should probably do that too” She moves to dig through her packed clothes, half unpacking by way of dumping things on the floor.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A chuckle to herself, and she grabs some clothes before heading off to the shower.

Nightclub

[Amy] DJ turn it up
It’s about damn time to live it up
I’m so sick of being so serious
It’s making my brain delirious!

She gets them shots as soon as they get into the club, wriggling her way back through the crowd toward where she left Sarita.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s taking a lean near a wall, head nodding a little to the beat with a bit of a grin on her face. Sarita is dressed to impress tonight, the duster changed out for a black leather jacket She’s in a short skirt and low-cut top…out of everyone in Chicago, only Amy has seen her dressed like this. She’d probably have a rare moment of mortification if anyone she knew did. She takes a drag off of her cigarette, looking over and reached for a shot as Amy comes up.

“Gimme gimme!”

[Amy] Amy should probably not mention that she texted Hunter and John to invite them along, then. Which she will not. The shots are set carefully on the nearest ledge, three for each of them. The girl should wait tables from all of this experience carrying multiple glasses.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles and takes a shot, knocking it back like it’s water. “Yeah, that’s the stuff. You’re awesome.”

[Amy] “Fuck yes I’m awesome.” She’s in jeans, boots, and a tanktop, but the jeans aren’t skin tight and the tank covers a lot more than most of her other ones do. She must have had to dig to find it.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Another shot follows, and she takes a drag off her cigarette, looking around. “It feels good to get away from all the bullshit, even for a couple hours.”

[Amy] “I’m sorry that we didn’t get to do this the other night.” She does two of her shots to keep up with Sarita, feeling the slow burn in her stomach.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Ehh. I needed it more tonight, so s’all good.” She leans against Amy, watching the crowd. “S’nice to get out though. I just need some downtime where everyone’s as much of a ship in the night as I’ve been.”

[Amy] “Think we can find some E?” She tosses it out casually, with enough of a flip tone so that she can say she was joking if Sarita responds badly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She raises a brow, but nods. “Yeah.” She looks back out to the crowd. “Man, I haven’t done E since…like, I was thirteen.”

[Amy] She considers before speaking. “You want to?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I dunno.” She frowns. “I dunno what that shit would do to someone like me, you know? Do you?”

[Amy] “I don’t know. I mean, you can do pot okay. I think it would be about the same.”

She checks her phone, just in case.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I guess, yeah.”

She shrugs and nods, looking over. “Everything okay?”

[Amy] “Totally okay. So what do you think? Should I go find some?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks like she’s wavering a bit. It’s borderline with what she considers good versus not good in the way of drugs. Finally, she just shrugs.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

[Amy] She grins, knocking back her third shot before winding her way back through the crowd.

[Amy] [Cha+Street=Score?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She settles back, an arm folded around her middle as she smokes. She looks just a little bit nervous now as she sits there against the wall, picking up her last shot and downing it.

[Amy] It doesn’t seem like she’s even been gone that long when she moves back through to Sarita. She’s carrying another set of shots, and is trailed by a tall, handsome, stunningly built man.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She raises an eyebrow when she sees her come back with a guy. She swipes her hand through her hair, giving Amy a questioning look.

[Amy] Grinning broadly, she sets the shots down before holding her hand out to him. He puts two gelcaps in her hand, and she gives one to Sarita.

“This is Corbin”

She gives her sister a meaningful look, stepping back behind Corbin and nudging him closer to Sarita.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives Corbin a friendly smile and leans in close to Amy, murmuring under the beat of the music.

¿Olvidaste que yo, dijo que las relaciones sexuales al azar con la gente normal no lo estaban haciendo por mí?

[Amy] Her eyes roll, and she shouts over the music “Jesús puta mierda, necesita tener sexo con ALGUIEN!”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shakes her head, sighing, and gives the man a smile. She leans in to speak to him, patting his chest lightly. He doesn’t quite know to make of what she said, but nods and heads off across the club. The Strider pockets the gelcaps and takes a drag off her cigarette.

[Amy] “What the FUCK, Sar?” She scowls at the departing man, then back to her sister.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’m not into the fuck random…” She doesn’t know how put it in a crowded club, so she just waves in that direction, though it’s somehow more expansive. “People like them thing, anymore. It doesn’t fucking do anything for me. I appreciate the thought, but I told you that already.”

[Amy] She shrugs, leaning next to Sasha and handing her a shot. “Fine. Fuck. Where’s your pill?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Sasha? Where? 😉 ]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “In my pocket. I was waiting until Hottie Boy was off first.”

[Amy] “Oh. Okay.” She checks her phone again, scrolling through messages before putting it back in her pocket once more.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Someone call?” She adjusts the low-cut top, taking a lean against the wall as she takes a drag off her cigarette.

[Amy] “Noooo….” Check out that innocent look.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She arches an eyebrow, now starting to look a little nervous. She is TOTALLY not dressed as the image she likes to project. “Should I be worried?”

[Amy] “They probably won’t come. I don’t think that clubbing is their thing, really.”

But she’s not taking the pill yet, just in case

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her eyes narrow. “They WHO?”

[Amy] “The guys.” She smiles brightly and hands Sarita another shot.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “The gu–” Her eyes go from narrow slits to silver dollar-sized.

“You mean Defiance.”

[Amy] “No. I didn’t text Joey or Eve. I can’t.” She looks thoughtful. “I don’t know though. I guess they might have.”

She takes a tiny step back, just in case.

[Hunter] The club totally can’t even handle Defiance right now.

They emerge from the stairwell, easing past the bouncer and pushing through the doors to the main floor. John enters first, slightly more Ragey than he was the previous night but still remaining short of his potential. Hunter thrums a bit hotter, a bit heavier, though even he fails to bristle like he is known to.

He’s wearing a button up shirt. This never happens, does he even own a button up shirt? It looks nice too, relatively speaking, it fits him perfectly — though that is more to do with his body than any inherent value in the shirt — and beneath it are a slightly less stained but no less worn pair of jeans. His chin twists from side to side, checking for the peeps who managed to convince them to get out here in the first place.

“She better be here, if this was some fuckin’ trick..”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her teeth make a gritting gesture, a strangled sound coming out. That’s just before she launches a stream of Spanish vitriol.

Oh mi dios de mierda que usted perra loca, vas a ser la muerte absoluta de mí!

She looks around, suddenly self-concious, and looks back.

“What part of ‘I really needed to get away from all this bullshit’ wasn’t fucking clear, Amy?”

[Amy] “Jesus FUCK Sar. We’re fucking out. I invited my boyfriend and his best friend to come out too. That’s IT.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The normally casually-dressed Strider, rarely seen without her duster and boots, is looking VERY different than what Hunter and John have ever seen her. The duster is changed out for a black leather jacket, instead of jeans and a shirt of some kind she’s in a short black skirt and low-cut top. Hell, she doesn’t even have her gun…nowhere to put it. She’s not that chick from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake, after all.

“Great. I’m going to feel ~totally~ not like an outsider here.”

[Amy] “Calm down. Fuck. They’re not going to even show up, and you know it.”

Another shot is taken, and she takes Sarita’s hand to tug her through the crowd to the dance floor. Amy is dressed very much like Taken Girl out with Single Girl. Jeans that fit but aren’t tight, a tank top that covers more than her usual tank tops do, and boots.

[John] This is not at all John’s scene.

Even without the mountain man beard, he still has the look of a big dumb farm hand that makes him look ridiculously out of place here. He had wanted nothing to do with nice clothing, and so he’s wearing the same damn ensemble he has on every night: shit-kicker boots, jeans that haven’t been washed since Friday night, a dingy white t-shirt that probably came out of a pack of three, and a brown Carhartt jacket, unzipped despite the fact that it’s cold as Hell outside. Though he doesn’t stare around at the cluster of bodies around him in consternation or confusion, neither does he step through the room with a powerful motion.

Hunter is grumbling about she better being here, and John hands him a look that says Relax. Perhaps he himself is worried that this is, actually, a trap, but if he is it’s buried so deep that all the world sees is someone who strikes chords of cognitive dissonance into those who look at him.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She still looks like she’s frustrated, and particularly nervous and self-conscious. But she allows herself to get tugged toward the dance floor, albeit looking around while she does.

[Amy] She was a little irritated that her clubbing night got destroyed on Friday. On balance though, she’s happy that things worked out like they did.

There’s at least a subtle shifting of people on the dance floor when the girls arrive. Low rage is still rage, and before long Amy is dancing up a storm inside an area that’s been cleared around Sarita.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She is nervous for a bit still, but once she gets out there she lets it go for the moment. She starts to get into it and become one with the music. She’s actually quite the dancer, and while that and her look attract a host of potential hookups, she’s keeping them at bay. She’s not here for a random hookup, just to have fun.

[Amy] Hour and a half, six shots.

Each.

Amy is in her extended happy place, considering the E in her pocket now that she’s convinced her sister and herself that they’re on their own for the night.

[Hunter] “Let’s get a drink, I think that’s what we’re supposed to do. Fuckin’ girls.”

He mumbles the last part and the roughly shoves someone out of the way as he wanders over to the bar. A seat is vacated just as he arrives — make that two, no three seats and he drops himself down into one of them. They have to wait to be served, places like this are notoriously hard to get served in if you have a penis.

“Two Jacks, don’t fuckin’ skimp none either, fill em up.”

The drinks are poured and then:

“Fifteen Fifty.”
“What, you’ve got to be fuckin’ shitting me. Do you fuckin hear this guy John? Fifteen Fifty he says, like we’re fuckin’ payin’ in russian money or somethin’. You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve guy, some fuckin’ nerve I tell ya.”

But he hands the money over, these will be the only drinks the two members of Defiance get out of their own pockets.

“Fifteen fuckin’ fifty, jesus christ.”

[Amy] Amy…. needs more alcohol.

She grabs Sar’s arm, tugging to get her attention and pointing at the bar before starting through the crowd again.

[John] John doesn’t have any luck with male bartenders, at all, so he doesn’t even bother. He stands by, trying not to look too awkward as Hunter haggles and harangues and eventually hawks up enough money for a bus ticket to Canada. The Modi lifts his eyebrows at the price, as if he’s heard wrong, and doesn’t sit down until the drink is poured out in front of him.

He’s going to be nursing this mother fucker.

One foot flat on the floor in case he needs to stand quickly, John lifts the shot in his typical Thanks man gesture, careful not to spill any of it, and takes a sip rather than tossing it back. The expression on his face, once the gratitude has been handed over, echoes Hunter’s own: Jesus Christ…

[Amy] [Mama needs some money]

She wriggles through the crowd, touching and tugging just so.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She is easily tugged along, a big smile on her face as she slips her way through the crowd. She’s got a good, solid tipsiness going herself as she slides along through the crowd.

[Amy] She’s going through the wallet when she walks up toward the bar, her attention on what cash she can find rather than the fact that there’s a huge empty space in front of her.

[Hunter] They might notice the Rage, they might notice the space eventually, what they won’t be able to ignore at all is Hunter’s voice which is a loud rumble. He sounds annoyed and rather uneasy.

“Fuckin’ last time I was in a place like this I had to fuckin’ bail before I ripped someone’s legs off. You remember that Luana chick? Yeah, fuckin’ hell. Got all up ons, had to leave fore I did somethin’ I’d regret.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She skids to a stop when she sees the space, and hears Hunter’s voice. She looks around, seeing the two, and she freezes.

“Oh hell. They came.”

[Amy] Cash liberated, she puts her hand with the wallet to her side, going a few more steps before letting it fall to the floor and finally turns her attention to where she’s going.

Well goddamn…. Two thought occur to her. A. She’s glad she’s not rolling. B. Sar is going to KILL her.

[John] Though John’s eyes are cast towards his high ball glass, he’s well aware of the fact that his Alpha is uneasy. They both are like fish cast upon a sandy, filthy shore here. Though his Rage is waned, it still creeps under his skin like implanted embers, and he has to focus on something else so he doesn’t acknowledge that yeah, actually, places like this are foreign and not all that comfortable.

There are a lot of bodies. A lot of squishy, fragile bodies filled with liters of blood and lungs that produce piercing shrieks when said bodies are compromised.

He looks over at mention of ‘that Luana chick,’ and he has to think for a moment. The process is visible. John goes from frowning to blank-faced to having a light bulb moment in a matter of seconds, and then he flicks his eyebrows as if to confirm that leaving was the best of his options at that moment. Though John doesn’t speak across the totem link, or go for his journal, the sentiment is practically audible:

Fuckin’ women.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She swallows hard and runs her hand through her hair, before she pulls her jacket shut. Her jaw sets and then she takes a breath, gesturing.

“Let’s go, I guess.”

[Amy] There must be something wrong with the woman that marches up to the misfit pair that everyone else has left alone. Her eyes flicker over John briefly before she looks at Hunter, head shaking.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaym. Who died and made you hot?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pauses, blinking, when Amy walks up to Hunter and hits on him. The expression on her face tells the tale clearly.

What the fuck is going on NOW?

[Hunter] He frowns, it isn’t a subtle gesture. It’s more of a scowl, really, than an actual frown, but the confusion in the expression makes it appear more so towards the latter.

“The fuck?”

The words are simple, to the point. What the fuck Amy?

[John] John laughs that voiceless laugh of his, glancing over at Hunter as if to see what it is Amy is seeing that he isn’t. A quick glance up at down reveals that the Bone Gnawer is wearing nice, clean clothes instead of what John has chosen to wear out tonight, and when he looks back at Amy he cocks a thumb at Hunter and makes that falling-water gesture he’s cobbled together to express showering.

At Sarita’s arrival, he is somewhat guarded. The last time he actually stopped to converse with her, he ended up punching her in the eye. Since then, he’s barreled past her after talking to her sister, been in the same room with her while Amy fumbled through giving him a computer tablet, and fallen asleep in her sister’s bed without noticing the Ragabash’s presence.

Then she and Hunter both react strongly to Amy’s question, and it stops being funny. He puts his hand down, coughs, and puts it in his pocket.

[Hunter] Hunter looks at John, hears him laugh and he visibly relaxes. “Guess your girls got good taste afterall.”

[Amy] “Teasing. Jesus fuck. You fuckers are all way too uptight.”

She glances at John, smiling brightly before shaking her head.

“Yeah. We’re going somewhere else now, aren’t we?” She hooks her arm in Sarita’s, nodding to the bar top “You guys do your shots, we’re going to go change clothes back. I TOLD the bitch that I look better in that than she ever could.”

Sure, she wants the points for not dressing like a tramp in front of John. But she wants her sister to be comfortable more.

[Hunter] “What you mean change? Just in the fuckin’ bathrooms? We just fuckin’ got here.” He looks at John incredulously. “I knew this was a fuckin’ trap.”

He groans with exasperation.

“Fifteen fuckin’ fifty!”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shifts on her feet when the tension seems to be growing between everyone; she’s already completely off her game, and John being distant while Hunter doesn’t seem to even notice that she’s there in favor of his packmate and her sister have her about ready to melt back into the crowd. She is completely the outsider here, and she looks and feels it. More to the point, she looks like a girl who’s trying WAY too hard to get a guy by her clothes, and trying to cover the top with her jacket just makes her even less comfortable.

When Amy links arms with her, she tenses as if she’s about to be thrust forward face-first in the awkwardness. She relaxes a bit when Amy says they’re going to change, and she gives a little smile to the two man.

[Amy] “You bitch like a girl, Hunter”

She waves her newly gained cash at him. “I want to stay, but you two already look pissed off, so if you want to go somewhere else, we can go.”

[John] He knew this was a fuckin’ trap.

John holds up his hands, slowly flailing them back and forth while noiselessly shouting. Oh no! It’s a trap! It ceases to be amusing after a matter of seconds, and he stops, huffing out a breath as he plants his hands on his hips. Looking between the other three, an expression that ought to be familiar to them by now hits him.

Go on, guess.

[Amy] Oh! Oh! Is he confused??

She leans into Sarita, looking John over again before her eyes move back to Hunter for his answer.

[Hunter] “You fuckin’ shoot like a bitch.” Hunter retorts.

[Amy] “Fuck yeah I do. You want to go to the range sometime? Give me something ELSE to laugh at you about?”

There’s absolutely no question that she’s kidding, and even goes so far as to let go of Sarita to lean in and playfully jab at his side.

[Hunter] He snorts, then barks a bit of laughter, shortly followed by a twisting of his torso when she jabs at his ribs. “ACK! Quit it, go get fuckin’ changed. This club can’t even handle me.”

[Amy] “Yeah, nobody can handle you. Too sexy for your fucking shirt and all that shit, right?”

Grinning, she glances to John once more before dragging Sarita off to switch clothes.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] When Amy lets go of her, Sarita is already moving off to go change. Amy has to pick up the pace to catch up with her.

[John] Dear god.

John draws a breath, that confusion lifting into resignation and acceptance of things he can neither change nor fucking understand, then lifts his chin in a farewell nod and turns back to his drink. Fifteen fucking fifty.

He takes another bracing sip, then frowns and reaches out to take a swatch of Hunter’s shirt between his fingers, as if he can’t figure out what the attraction is. He isn’t going to sniff for pheromones, but damn that is nice material…

[Hunter] “Somethin’ like that.” Hunter smirks, then when they turn away he’s shaking his head, a look at John shares the thought.

Fuckin’ women.

[Hunter] [Hunter *lisp* “It’s Egyptian silk”]

[Amy] Amy looks…. hot.

She strides out of the bathroom a few minutes later, all low cut here and super short there and curves in all the right places. The leather jacket was left with Sarita, who’s now safely tucked away in Amy’s jeans and tank.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Hold off on that second part, Sarita may not be coming with. 🙂 ]]
to Amy

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Hold off on that second part, Sarita may not be coming with. 🙂 ]]

[Hunter] Hunter is about to take his shot when Amy strolls out of the bathrooms, it’s midway between the bar and his lips, nearing his chin when his head tilts to the side and his eyes go wide.

“Fuckin’ hell John.” He declares, just as the 7.75 shot cracks in between his fingers and goes splashing down the front of his shirt.

He doesn’t even notice.

[John] He isn’t the most aware-of-his-surroundings mother fucker to ever walk the face of the planet, so it isn’t until Hunter’s eyes go wide that the Modi figures out something is amiss. He sets down his shot and turns to see what the problem happens to be. It isn’t actually a problem, that he can tell, although Amy strolls out wearing a much more revealing outfit than the one she’d had on a few moments ago. For whatever reason, he doesn’t have quite the reaction Hunter does.

Maybe it’s because he would like to not die at the age of twenty unless he dies defending a Caern.

His gaze is appreciative, but not outwardly lecherous. Perhaps he thinks the Grand Elder or the Philodox Elder have nothing better to do than lurk in dark corners waiting for sin-born to eye-fuck purebred kinswomen from other tribes. He’s respectful, and while Hunter is giving his shirt his shot, John just flicks his eyebrow and tosses his back.

I know, that eyebrow flick says. He lets out a voiceless huff as the alcohol burns his throat.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Guys, can you give us just a couple minutes please? We’re trying to figure some things out.]]

[Hunter] [oh totally! no problemolos!]

[Amy] Some smartass tries to grab her as she makes her way back to the bar, and gets punched in the face for his efforts.

She arches a brow when they get back to the bar, looking Hunter over. “What the fuck happened to you?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She comes out alongside Amy. She still looks off…she’s not skittish like she is before, but she’s still got more make-up on than she’s comfortable with Hunter and John seeing her in, and she didn’t exactly get a warm, welcoming feeling from the two when she was out there before.

She walks up behind Amy, heading straight to the bar and ordering herself several shots, straight up.

[Hunter] “Huh?” He says to Amy, then looks down at his shirt. “Oh..nuthin'” A scowl, he turns back to the bar and wipes his hand on his jeans before brushing it along the front of his shirt.

[Amy] Either she’s oblivious, or she’s mercilessly fucking with him.

Placed in front of Hunter, she leans into and around him to grab one of the shots that Sarita has ordered.

[Hunter] Amy isn’t oblivious, he knows this. She is fucking with him, without a doubt. There is no movement from him – even to pull away – like she wasn’t even there, though an observant individual might notice his nostrils involuntarily flare and his jaw clench.

“You always such a big fuckin’ tease Amy?” He finally says when she has her shot. “Go fuck with John, I wanna talk to Sarita.”

[Amy] “Not always.”

She’s pretty obviously pushing it though. Drawing back from him, she glances at Sarita and scoots over to John.

[John] It’s abundantly clear that John, at least, is oblivious. After his shot is gone, he sets the empty glass down, stomach settling quickly, and leans against the bar with his arms crossed over his chest. It’s hotter than Hell in here and he’s starting to sweat beneath his coat, but he doesn’t take it off until Amy scoots closer to him.

Hunter isn’t the only person who noticed her when she walked out of the bathroom. The Modi sighs, the sound not even a sound at all in this loud room but still etched into his face and body, and shrugs the lined jacket off his upper body. Without gesturing first, he drapes the coat over her shoulders.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s already downed two shots in the amount of time it’s taken Hunter and Amy to have their exchange. Sarita looks over at Hunter, masking whatever has caused the strange self-consciousness in her to flair with a grin. It’s not overtly sincere, but it’s there.

“Yo.”

[Amy] She gives him an apologetic smile, leaning up to talk right into his ear.

[Hunter] “Waddup,” he’s still situated in his barstool , twisted around to the the side to face Sarita but when she gives him that grin he reverts back to looking straight ahead. She’s right next to him, they can talk huddled over their drinks.

“You’re all fuckin’ quiet tonight, what’s up with that? Usually can’t shut you up.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives a shrug. “I just didn’t know you guys were coming out. If I did, I woulda…” NOT COME BECAUSE I WAS TRYING FOR A GOD DAMNED NIGHT WITHOUT BEING SURROUNDED BY THIS WHOLE DAMN THING 24/7 GOD DAMMIT AMY THAT WAS A DIRTY SNEAKY TRICK “…dressed a little differently.”

[Hunter] [ORLY]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Hunter] [aaaaaaaaand]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[John] [… was that Empathy? Put that shit away it’s so tiny it’s not even worth it.]

[Hunter] [AHAHAH DON’T MOCK ME YOU HAVE ONE MANIP POOL]

[John] [I WILL BEAT YOUR ASS CLARENCE]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[YA RLY I LIE I LIE I LIE RELLY GUD]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Hunter] [oh you jerk you’re defender]

[Hunter] Hunter studies her face, for more than a few seconds. He looks her in the eyes, looks at her lips and the way she sits, the way her hand holds her glass — Hunter takes his god damn time with this. Probably because he’s terrible at it — as indicated by the fact that he comes away none the wiser.

“Oh yeah? S’wrong with that? Seems fine to me.”

[John] He isn’t monstrously taller than the kinswoman, but John still ducks his head to meet her halfway as she lifts up to speak into his ear. Eyes made nearly black by the dim lighting in here focus straight ahead at nothing, seeming to stare straight through a throng of scantily clad, barely legal college coeds gyrating several yards away. He isn’t paying attention to any of the humans in this place, other than to answer the question as to where they are in case of any number of scenarios in which they would become impediments rather than simple background elements.

There are far too many of them, but for now, they’re just there.

Whatever Amy says to him is lost to time and rampant cacophony in the background. He returns his arms to their crossed position over his chest once he’s divested of his jacket, and when she concludes whatever it is she has to say, John bobs his head in a nod. All the response she gets is him reaching out to solemnly yet playfully grip the top of her skull in one hand, then rest that arm on the bar behind her without touching her.

He’s about as sly as church flatulence, but he’s not exactly trying to be sneaky. He probably just wants his damn arm to rest somewhere. The Fenrir can’t lie worth a damn.

[Amy] She laughs when her head is grabbed, swatting at his hand before twisting around to watch Hunter and Sarita.

So what if it puts her back almost touching his arm? Girl can’t lean and watch the devastatingly handsome Gnawer talk to her sister?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives a little shrug, downing another shot. “Yeah, this is. I don’t think you noticed when I was wearing what Amy is now.”

[Lukas] The last time Lukas went clubbing with Danicka was New Year’s Eve, and he ended up soaring on ecstasy, pawing indiscriminately and fascinatedly at the seats, the windowglass, the ceiling upholstery, and the woman beside him as they rode the cab back to the W.

Tonight’s excesses aren’t so … excessive. The only substances in his system are a jolt of red bull (disgusting stuff, but Sinclair swears by it) and two shots of turquoise-blue AMF. He’s laughing as he comes up out of the tumultuous sea of dancing bodies, though, fingers tangled with Danicka’s, hair mussed, one shirt-sleeve rolled up to the elbow as though he’d done that much before forgetting the other.

Wait,” he all but shouts — they’re passing near the wall of subs — “wait wait wait, hold on, my shoelace is untied.” And he ducks down to knot it by touch, looking bar-ward, shrugging a drop of sweat off his temple and onto his shoulder. “Hey,” and he nods in Sarita’s direction, “that’s Sarita. Have you met her yet?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Per+Alert: Do I see Lukas?]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Hunter] He reaches out his hand for one of the shots, a little sigh escaping his lips – twisted in the corners revealing perhaps a hint of amusement. The floor behind them pounds, though the speakers are deliberately setup to limit as much noise as possible around the bar. It doesn’t make it quiet, not in the slightest, but it makes it possible to actually order drinks and shout in each others faces in an attempt at communication.

John doesn’t have this problem, of course. Bastard.

“Fuckin’ glad for that too. Last thing I wanna be doin’ is checkin’ out some fuckin’ wolf.” He laughs, it’s probably lost in the noise around them but it splits his lips and tips his chin.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks up, eyes falling on the Shadow Lord and his mate. She pauses a moment, drawing up just a bit. It would be very difficult to see the change in her demeanor, because she’s good at covering it and…well, they are in a club and the duo are a bit away. She smiles and waves as she directs her words toward the others. She knows Hunter understands Spanish and can get the message to John, and Amy can as well.

Señoras y señores … un Shadow Lord Elder se acerca. Sólo para que tengan conocimiento.

[Danicka] “Nooope,” says the blonde next to Lukas, smiling benignly. Her hair is actually up tonight, a rather thick ponytail with tendrils curling around her face. She came to dance, maybe, and not whip her hair back and forth. She’s not exactly sober at the moment either, though she perhaps handles herself — ironically — better than the Full Moon beside her. Her pants are tight, the fabric and color hard to discern with the lighting in here. Her shoes are flats, which make her height and his more lopsided than usual. Her shirt is some body-skimming metallic blue thing with short sleeves that is held on by a series of ties over her shoulders. Her coat is checked.

“Why didn’t you wear loafers?” she asks him when he’s done re-tying his shoelace. “You have those nice ones from Aldo. Who is Sarita?”

[Amy] She can’t hear it, but she sees the look to someone across the room and reads “Shadow Lord” on Sarita’s lips plainly enough.

Fuck.

She leans back into John’s arm for a second, just long enough to let her make full contact with him before she shrugs out of his coat. It’s caught and handed to him, and a moment later she’s scooted just barely out of Tits on His Arm range of Hunter.

[Hunter] “Que bueno.” Is Hunter’s reply to Sarita and he quickly throws back the shot. This time it goes down his throat instead of down the front of his shirt. Then it’s time to swivel on his stool and look around the club like a blind man trying to find his reflection. It’s dark in here, there are far too many people, the only thing that helps him is the breeding and the Rage.

Luckily there is enough of it to fill a small truck. He passes the message down the phone to John and then–

There are tits near his arm. He sighs.

[John] John doesn’t speak Spanish, but he reacts to what Sarita’s said seconds after she says it, anyway. His eyes flick down the bar toward her as Amy is handing back his jacket. He holds it in his left hand for a moment, fighting the urge to look around the room to find the source of Sarita’s announcement, and drums the fingers of his right hand against the tacky bartop.

Fabulous.

Sniffing, the Modi drapes the jacket over the crook of his elbow and keeps his other arm where it is, looking nonchalant as hell with no drink nearby, nothing to chew on, nothing to smoke. He seems perfectly content to just stand here and watch the proceedings, so that’s what he does.

That and try not to exhibit schaudenfreude in Hunter’s anguish.

[Lukas] “See,” Lukas says, a little more loudly than necessary, “when your outfit consists of a buttondown shirt and jeans, how dressy or undressy you look depends entirely on what shoes you wear. And these,” he points at his shoes, old-school skate shoes in black and grey, “are appropriately casual.

“Plus,” he adds, getting back up, “they’re better to dance in. And Sarita’s a prospective packmate. A Ragabash Strider. I like her. Come on.”

If Lukas weren’t inebriated, he might have caught the little reveille that goes through the Cliaths and kin at the bar. He is, however, inebriated, and less of a fuck is given all around.

[Danicka] “Why are you giving me fashion lessons?” Danicka wants to know of her mate. She looks at him like he’s grown a third head. She doesn’t resist when he starts heading over to the Cliaths at the bar. She looks quite pleased with the world in general, Lukas’s shoes and inability to remember who he is talking to notwithstanding.

“Hello,” she says to the lot of them when they arrive, smiling and giving a little wave.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Lukas!” She smiles as he comes up, giving him an upward tilt of her head. “What’s shakin’, trial-run boss?” She grins to him. Her regular duster is gone and she’s wearing more make-up than he’s used to seeing her with. It’s more of an ‘I’m going clubbing in order to try and catch something’ look, although the clothes–tank top, jeans–don’t match. They aren’t baggy or the like, but they’re just more casual.

Danicka gets a warm smile from her as well, and a little nod. She doesn’t know the woman, but any friend of Lukas… “Hola. Funny to find you guys here. Club often?”

[Amy] She’s flirted with guys to get what she wanted for years. It’s gone beyond flirting more often than not, and the Owlet has never been above using any man when it suits her purposes.

After all, just look at Leon.

So why then, when she glances to Sarita in between big, flirty smiles for Hunter, does her expression shift to one of painful guilt before the expression is quickly wiped away?

[John] John’s player can’t be fucked rewriting what he looks like tonight. Typical Dorn Ahroun: hot dumb and doesn’t talk. Boom, roasted.

The Adren was a Fostern when one of the Cliaths met him. When they all met him, actually, but this particular Cliath met him when he was a mere step above him on the food chain, and he’d been bold enough to look at his cheekbones then. The Fenrir doesn’t look far past his throat as he and his mate mosey off the dance floor, though he does look over at the kinswoman and give her what is supposed to pass for a polite smile and doesn’t quite make it, as though the muscles responsible for smiling are so dusty and out-of-use that it isn’t going to happen. His eyes crinkle at the corners, slightly, but that’s about all she can expect tonight.

As if to make up for it, he lifts his right hand off the bartop long enough to give her a motionless wave. Hi, it says. He, however, doesn’t open his mouth.

[Lukas] “Because,” Lukas replies, and then just … kind of laughs.

They’re with the others by then, anyway. And whatever tension was brewing between Amy, Hunter, and John more or less flies right over Lukas’s head. Or at least he gives a very good impression of entirely missing out on it. Unmistakeably tall, dark, and rageful, the Ahroun returns Sarita’s grin with a slightly lopsided one.

“Sort of. Not really. This is Dani&+269;ka, my uh.” A blank; a durr moment. “Mine. My mate.”

He looks happy to say this. It’s a little absurd. A moment later Sarita can all but see him taking a breath, mustering some amount of respectability for the others. “Dani&+269;ka, this is Sarita. Hunter. John. And Amy, Sarita’s sister.” He turns his head, speaks into Danicka’s ear, then.

Talented lipreaders might catch it: John can’t speak. He’ll write instead if he needs to.

[Amy] Hey, did you hear that Sarita’s wayward sister is a slut? No? Well just look at her.

She isn’t as lean as Sarita, so the low cut top is clingier, and the short skirt is shorter. She’s dressed for clubbing, even though her makeup seems a little subdued for her clothing.

Because this goes SO far toward Lukas seeing her as an actual asset. Really it does.

[Hunter] “Yo,” Hunter offers in return to the arrival of the Lords once Lukas has done his introductions. His back is up against the bar, his feet perched on the frame-work of the stool. Raising both elbows, he lowers them to the surface behind him and flicks a glance at Amy – she’s doing that thing again. By the time he walks out of here he will probably figure it out, right now though she gets a look of annoyance from the Gnawer. But he doesn’t shove her off and a second later his attention is elsewhere, leaving her to smile devilishly and rub up against him all she wants.

Tension in the trio, perhaps, but beyond John looking bored, Hunter looking annoyed and Amy looking like she’s trying far too hard – there isn’t much to see.

“A club Lukas? Really?” He can’t help himself, his eyebrow raises. It’s like seeing your principal at the arcades.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, nice to meet you, Danicka.” She grins and holds out a hand to her. The whole thing that is going on behind her, she seems oblivious to. “Forgive the outfit…I usually travel in much less respectable clothing. Amy was nice enough to switch with me, though. I overdid it, I’m afraid.”

A friendly, grateful smile to her sister, and then she looks back at Lukas. “How’s tricks been? Keeping busy and up to no good?”

[Danicka] The first word that comes to Lukas’s addled mind is mine, which fits. His mate. Danicka looks thoroughly amused, turning her head away from the others to look at him for a moment. She shakes her head, not quite laughing, and then laughing quite out right when he does Very Serious Introductions. She puts her hand over her mouth to stifle it, nodding absently at whatever it is Lukas mutters in her ear. She’s holding his hand, too. She doesn’t have a drink anymore, but her green eyes are bright and it’s clear enough that she’s feeling loose and having a good time.

She extends her hand in turn to those that want it, greeting them in turn. “Hi. Hi. Hello. Hi. Good to meet you, Sarita!” That given with a flash of a smile, as bright as her eyes. Warm as her hands.

Then Hunter speaks up and she looks over at him. “What? I met Lukáš in a club.” A beat. “You’re not going to get all weird because of his rank or something, are you?”

[Hunter] “All weird, what ya’ mean by that?” He tilts his head, curiosity in his tone. “He just don’t look like much the dancin’ type.”

[Amy] She scowls at Hunter when he flat out ignores her, though the look seems to be more exasperation than irritation.

Reaching into her prominent cleavage, she fishes out a lighter and pack of cigarettes as she yells to be heard by everybody. “I’m going out for a smoke. I probably won’t be killed or anything. Nobody go with me”

[John] He can’t read lips worth a damn, either, but John ends up watching the couple as the male turns to speak into the female’s ear. It isn’t that he’s ignoring what’s going on next to him, but he certainly doesn’t seem to deem it worthy of his attention, either. A kinswoman flirting with Hunter?

Woooo. Fetch a Galliard, that’s one for the record books.

When Danicka pulls away from the huddle and begins with the hand shakes, the tallest of the three Cliaths looks around as if waiting for his cue. His shaking hand is resting on the bar, which is crawling with Christ knows what sort of bacteria and filth. John glances down at it, then decides to spare Danicka exposure to whatever is clinging to his skin by holding it up again, acknowledging her Hi with a pan-flash of a smile. It’s like ripping off a damn Band-Aid, how fast he does it, but he makes the attempt.

Hunter’s observation makes him laugh. So he can smile, he just chooses not to. How atypical of his tribe and auspice. The Modi cants his head to indicate his Alpha, then gives a facial shrug. It’s true: he doesn’t look much the dancin’ type.

[Lukas] “I don’t think Hunter even remembers my rank half the time,” Lukas replies.

His eyes level on Hunter for a beat. There might be a veiled warning there. Then he pulls a barstool out with his foot — he doesn’t even bother looking over his shoulder to make sure no one’s sitting on it. No one ever sits on barstools near Lukas for long. That stool goes to Danicka. He doesn’t actually sit, himself — he turns away for a moment, leaning over the bar to call out a drink order to the bartender.

That accomplished, he turns back. “At least no more cannonballs into pools,” he replies to Sarita, that smile resurfacing, crooked now. “By the way — ”

he cuts off. Amy announces she’s stepping out, no one come with her, she’ll be fine, really. Lukas’s eyes, dark and straight, flick up.

“Do you wanna go with her?” he asks Sarita.

[Lukas] [er. Lukas’s eyeBROWS, dark and straight.]

[Danicka] “I think you just challenged him to a dance-off,” she informs Hunter.

Angelina yells that she’s going out. She won’t be killed. Nobody go with her. And Danicka bursts into laughter, forgetting — at first — to clap her hand over her mouth.

A barstool is picked out for her. She does not seem to notice it.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles and nods to Amy when she steps out, and looks back to Lukas.

“Nope. Don’t need to smoke, and if I just followed her out there…it would get ugly. If someone snatches her off the street directly in front of the club, she’ll let us know. Or kill them.”

She says it with a chuckle. “She’s cool. She’s just…well, she’s Ames.” As if that explains it. “Now, what about cannonballs and by the way?”

[Amy] She can’t be killed. She’s tried fairly recently, and all it gained her was another hospital stay and another conversation that she doesn’t want to have to have.

She gives Sarita a smile when her defense is lept to, nodding and taking a few steps away before stopping and backtracking to John.

“Can I borrow your coat?”

[John] Watch this, this is how poor a liar he is: Lukas tells Danicka that Hunter doesn’t remember his rank half the time, and the Modi, who up until that point had been watching the Adren, lifts his eyebrows in something like disbelief, or surprise. Maybe he’s amused; it’s hard to tell with him. Whatever the case is, John slowly looks over to Hunter before lowering his heavy brows and squinting over at his elder. He pops the knuckle of his right thumb with its buddies, then rests his half-fist back on the lacquered slab of wood and crosses one boot over the other, continuing to lean his fine-ass self against the bar instead of sitting down like a normal person.

Amy asks to borrow his coat, and he doesn’t even think twice about it. He does manage to pull his attention away from their superior long enough to unbend his elbow, drop the coat into his hand, and give it to the kinswoman. With his head turned, the rest of them can’t see the exaggerated look of warning on the Modi’s face, as though there will be dire consequences if she gets killed while wearing his jacket.

[Amy] She just barely nods, pulling on the dirty Carhartt over her lovely club clothes and hunching into the coat as she goes outside.

[Hunter] Lukas looks at him, and unlike his Modi pack-mate, the Alpha of Defiance doesn’t look the Adren in the cheek bones or the throat, he looks him right back in the eyes. There isn’t much of a challenge in it, more like just how Lukas put it. He doesn’t put much stock in rank. Words are held for now though, because Amy is looking like Hunter just yelled PASS in her face, or at least that’s how it seems to the Gnawer.

She gets no response from the Gnawer, not at the hints of her dying out there and not when she wanders over to grab John’s coat. There’s something far more interesting that has him grinning.

“Dance off?” He laughs, “I just take em’ at his worth. Man like Lukas’ll get me yappin’ to his song regardless’a what titles are floatin’ over his head.” He smiles, Isn’t that right Lukas?

[Lukas] “Hm.” It’s a thoughtful sound, a little curious. He leaves it be, though. Not quite the first night he met Sarita but the second or the third, she told him what it was like for her and her sister. They were tight. She protects her sister. Two desperadoes back to back against the world, all that. Only at the same time — she realizes what she can and can’t do. Can and can’t change.

Gives her sister freedom, even if it’ll kill her.

Lukas can respect that. He doesn’t really get it — not with his protective instinct which sometimes, frequently, verges into over territory — but he respects it.

Anyway: the bartender slides him his drink. Dear god, it’s another adios motherfucker. The Shadow Lord takes it and gulps it down like nothing. Eastern European jokes abound. Setting the half-drained glass aside, he crunches an ice sliver between his teeth.

“By the way,” he picks up where he left off, “we should talk sometime. About the totem, the pack, philosophy, all that. Maybe later, when I’m less … y’know. Drunk.”

There’s talk of a danceoff going on over there. Lukas flicks an eyebrow up, doesn’t comment. He does pass his drink over to Danicka, though, sharing like they taught him to in kindergarten.

[John] Good thing John left his phone in his jeans pocket and not his jacket pocket: when the stupid thing buzzes for his attention, surprising him to the point that he starts slightly but does not jump like an electrified cat, he reaches into his pocket to grab the thing. The screen produces a light so weak it barely penetrates the darkness, the glow dying inches from home. Whatever it says makes John’s squint deepen.

He elbows Hunter in the side, lighter than he does when he’s horsing around, and shows the contents of the cheap prepaid phone’s message to the Bone Gnawer.

[Danicka] Danicka’s laughter does indeed die down after awhile, into giggles and a single demure sniff. Amunet walks outside and, frankly, they’re in a nice area of Chicago. They are in what counts for the upper twenty-five percent on Danicka’s mental spectrum of swank –> divey. If Amunet going outside for a smoke is something worth batting an eyelash for in anyone’s book, it’s a book Danicka’s not reading.

She’s eyeing Hunter as he opens his mouth again. A drink slides towards her and she looks at it, then at Lukas, wounded. “You didn’t get me my own?” she says, bereft. “Worst boyfriend ever!” she says adamantly, and leans past him to flag down the bartender.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hell to the yes,” she says with a nod to the Adren. “I am game literally whenever you are. Assuming, you know. I’m not in the middle of a deep sleep, dreaming that Javier Bardem is one of Owl’s kin and mine, ALL mine.”

She gives a Cheshire grin at that, though there’s something a bit…bitter, perhaps? That may be the word to describe what swims well under the surface. The woman had her opportunity to get laid tonight thanks to her half-sister, but Sarita’s not into the random lays that she picks up from clubs. She’s done the Coyote Ugly morning one too many time for that, and she’s had enough experience with it to know that nine times out of ten, she’s not satisfied with some random nobody who she’ll never see again. Still, she’s had kinfolk/Garou relationships swirling around her head for weeks now, and it’s starting to take its toll in reminding her that she doesn’t have that.

She picks up a shot from the five or six she has lined up in front of her and downs it. “Amy definitely wants to talk at you more when she can too, about seeing if there’s anything she can get involved in such as what you mentioned to her before. Scouting and such. I don’t know that there’s much at the moment, but I know she’d love to get active, when she can.”

[Hunter] If there’s any reaction to the text that John showed him, it isn’t expressed by the Gnawer beyond a glance to the Modi and another at the door. It shouldn’t be unfamiliar to anyone here — the sharing of information, silently, between pack-mates –, so perhaps it isn’t a surprise when both members of Defiance stand from their stools.

Sarita begins her talk with her to-be Alpha and Hunter is frowning, tight lips, tight jaw, there’s something in the look he gives both of them but it is fleeting, resolving into half-hearted wave of his hand – a twisting of the corners of his lips.

“Sorry to leave, duty calls, corners to clear n’all that. Cya Lukas –” eyes turn to Danicka and she gets a nod. Sarita’s farewell gets said over his shoulder as he’s turning to go.

“Later homie.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Later, Hunter. John.” She gives them both warm smiles and waves, then looks back to Lukas.

[Danicka] “You know, I’ve never been particularly attracted to Javier Bardem,” Danicka muses as she waits for her drink, leaning on the bar. She takes no notice of John and Hunter leaving, even managing to miss Hunter’s nod in her direction. “He looks like… a Cro-Magnon. A noble, philosophical Cro-Magnon.” She looks over at Lukas thoughtfully, as though mentally comparing, then picks up a bright blue drink identical to the one Lukas ordered and turns towards Sarita as she mentions her sister again.

There’s interest in her eyes as her lips close around the straw in her drink. She doesn’t slam it. Well, she’s a slender thing, and female, and closer to mortal than Lukas. Maybe she wants to take it easy. He looks like he’s at least on his third or fourth; this is probably her second, third at most. Chances are she can’t hold her liquor all that well.

“Can she shoot?” Danicka wants to know.

[John] [Sam, Ange, thanks for the scene!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh man…it was Vicky Cristina Barcelona that did it for me. Just…oh, Dios mio.” She grins and shrugs. “I was hooked. And he can be a creepy little fucker too.” That’s an attractive trait? Hey, no one said the sisters were normal. Speaking of which…

“Can she shoot?” She grins widely. “Better than me, and to be perfectly arrogant, I shoot well. Hell, just the other day she unloaded one to help Hunter and Joey take down a freakin’ Thunderwyrm.” She nods. “Yes, she’s insane…I don’t dispute that. But girl’s got some serious mettle to her.”

[Lukas] Lukas, downgraded to worst boyfriend ever, doesn’t seem particularly heartbroken about it. He huffs a laugh, drinks his drink, and then lays a thoughtless, gentle hand on Danicka’s back as she leans across him to order.

“Night, guys.” That, offhand, was to Hunter and John. Back to Sarita and Danicka, “There might actually be something afoot. One of my contacts forwarded me this from the paper today,” and it’s not actually a newspaper he pulls out but his iPhone, fingers flicking deftly over the touchscreen until he pulls up a webpage, which he passes to the females.

“One or two homeless folks disappearing into the cold isn’t unusual, especially with this year’s weather, but half the expected population is a bit much.”

[newspaper clipping is this one: http://www.chicagodusk.com/smf/index.php?topic=8172.0 — and Amunet’s already signed up for that scene with jacqui, so consider this your ic lead-up *LOL*]

[Hunter] [thanks for scene!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She raises an eyebrow and takes the iPhone, looking it over. She doesn’t actually own such a piece of equipment herself–she’s been considering snagging one like her sister is so adept at doing, but not yet–but she does have an iPod so she can navigate it fine. Bless the evil conglomerate Apple and their love of a universal iOS. She looks over the article, frowning.

“The streets take them? Jesus, that’s ominous. Like, some kinda Joss Whedon creepy prophecy ominous.”

Her phone chirps, and passes the iPhone along to Danicka as she pulls her own out to look at it. A little frown, and she texts back.

[Danicka] “I never finished that movie,” Danicka says. “Never even got to the point where apparently the two chicks made out.” She shrugs. “I can’t ever get into Woody Allen’s crap.”

She has called Lukas her worst boyfriend ever before. That time it actually ended up in a series of phrases that made him turn his head away so he could hide his glowing, beaming smile of pleasure, but this time he just scoffs it off. They do have a certain comfort with each other, less like an old married couple and more like people who have been dating long enough not to Freak Out over every little thing.

His hand on her back, for instance. She doesn’t suddenly flutter, or blush, or drag him to an empty restroom. She smiles, and he leaves it there, and so it goes.

Her eyebrow lifts when Sarita mentions the Thunderwyrm, and Amy helping bring it down. Danicka doesn’t comment on that, nor does she look terribly interested in the newspaper clipping at the moment. She listens, though — this is the first she’s heard of it. “I like Joss Whedon,” she muses aloud. “Sometimes. The longer he goes on the more it becomes clear he’s a self-indulgent sexist.”

[Lukas] Another small laugh. The ice cubes in his glass clink together as Lukas drains the last of his AMF. The iPhone — which truthfully was a gift, not a purchase he made himself, and is in fact a by-now-outdated 3GS — comes back around to him. He puts it away.

“There aren’t a lot of details yet. But I believe Laughs in the Face of Death, the Ragabash elder, is thinking of having a look. If your sister wants to poke around the storefront end of things, so to speak, we might be able to use her information.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A little bit of a nod. “Oh, well that’s perfect. Amy’s been hanging out with them a bit. Obviously, hence the Thunderwyrm thing. I’ll let her know.” She sends another text and slips the phone away.

[Danicka] For a few minutes there Danicka is the only one present who is not using her iPhone. Then again, where would she put it? She doesn’t have a purse on her, and her clothes are tight and pocketless, her left hand stamped with the insignia of the club, her drinks on Lukas’s tab. She’s finished her AMF.

Maybe not taking it so easy, after all.

[Lukas] “Great.” Phones go away. Danicka has finished her drink. Lukas’s is a pile of ice. Business set aside, he smiles, indicating the dance floor with a tilt of his head. “You guys ready to head back out? Maybe we’ll find you a Javier Bardem lookalike out there.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles. “I’m not here for a pick-me-up. I’m not that kinda girl anymore. Just here to have fun.” She downs her last three shots in quick succession and nods, standing. She’s weaving a bit.

“Hey Mr. DJ, put that record on, as the Queen of Pop said. Let’s do it.”

[Danicka] “You two…” Danicka informs them slowly, “…start without me. I’m going to get some water and… be… sitting for awhile.”

[Lukas] Lukas’s eyebrow quirks up at that. He looks from Danicka to the empty glass and back. Then, meeting Sarita’s eyes, he quips, “She probably won’t get killed. Nobody stay with her.”

Sarita’s not exactly sober either. Neither is Lukas, for that matter. One weaving, the other swaying a bit, they head out onto the dance floor with its legions of clubbers.

[oy, sorry that took so long — getting sleepy here! that’s probably gonna be my last post tonight.]

[Danicka] To that, Danicka snorts a laugh, bordering on derisive. She sits on the barstool Lukas originally tried to pull out for her, leaning back and watching Lukas go off with his potential packmate. She just smiles. Orders one more.

[Danicka] [Yeah, sorry I got so slow, too. I v tired and going to bed now! But thank you guys for the RP!]

[Danicka] [Night!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita grins and follows Lukas out on the dance floor to get down. Even intoxicated, she’s a decent dancer, and she is happy to forget all the bullshit flowing around her mind, the anguish that it’s brought down on her, and just enjoys the night until it ends.

[[Nini! Thanks for the scene!]]

Angry Birds, Not-Too-Angry John, Nervous Sasha

[Amunet Trujillo] She looks relatively pleased with herself as she makes her way back upstairs and to room 10. The door is opened and shut quietly, just in case Sarita is still sleeping, and not lying in wait to play Inquisition.

[Amunet Trujillo] (Stupid defaults to new posts on top)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s laying in bed, curled up on her side with her eyes shut. The slow rise and fall of her chest would indicate to almost anyone that she is in fact out like a light. Sarita never has been a particular morning person, after all.

She actually lets Amy get almost to wherever in the room she’s going before speaking up. “He seems nice.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Fuck.

“Yeah, he’s okay. When did you get in?” She settles cross legged on her bed, leaning over to pull the iPad out from under the bed and turning it on.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Uh…somewhere between too fucking late and too fucking early.” She pulls herself into a vague sitting position, rubbing at her eyes. “So my guess would be, like…I dunno. Fucking Shoot Me-O’ Clock.”

In Sarita talk, that’s probably between 3:00 and 5:00 in the morning.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Then go the fuck back to sleep” She touches and drags and taps, and soon obnoxiously cheery music starts up.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She had just flopped down and her eyes had shut when the music kicks in. “You are the spawn of Satan himself when he was having a particularly bad day.” A pillow goes flying in the kinfolk’s direction.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Fuck off.” The music stops, replaced by chittering, chirping, crashing, cheering sounds as she drags her finger across the screen, then lifts it off.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Blow me.” She cracks an eyebrow, looking at the tablet in Amy’s hands like it’s the source of of the very Wyrm itself.

[Amunet Trujillo] Something cracks her up, at the same time that a loud crash results in animated cackling from the tablet. “Nice retort, Sar. Classy.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, because we’re classy fuckin’ people, right?” She lifts her head and then notices something with a surprised blink. “Hey, what happened to your face?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Fuck you. I’m classy as fuck. I own a fucking dress now. FUCK!” She scowls at the tablet, glancing up to Sarita and then back down. “Carter can do this fucked up take away the damage thing. I don’t know. He took off before he would explain it.” Touch. Drag. Crash. Cackle.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Who the fuck is Carter, and what the fuck is that infernal thing DOING?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Weird dude. Lord kin, I guess. That’s what Stefan said.” Drag. Crash. She glances up with a sheepish grin. “Angry birds.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Angry birds are making for an angry sister.” She scowls and swipes her hair out of her face. The Ragabash may be one of the least Ragey Garou you can find, but even she’s irritable on nights and days of the full moon.

“You’re just all about the Thundah these days, huh?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “He doesn’t make me feel like shit. That’s already an improvement.” There are a couple more drag/crash combos before the noise stops. “Fuck him. I think I’m keeping this.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, good.” She nods. “That means I don’t have to force-feed him his own liver. That would make things awkward with Lukas.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “He’ll be fun to have around for a while.” She shrugs, tapping to end the game, then going about clearing everything else off the iPad. “I don’t expect you guys to hang out and be all buddy buddy. He doesn’t need to hear any of your stories.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks heartbroken. “Does this mean I can’t tell him about the time in Jackson that we had to go on a week-long search to find all your clothes because you got so drunk you forgot where you’d left them?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “That’s pretty much what it means, yeah.” She glances up, then back to the tablet, keeping her voice absolutely casual. “I like him enough that I don’t want him to know what I was like before.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She cocks her head to the side, brow raising, and then gives a little shrug. “Okay, fair enough. I’ll be good and be zippin’ the lippin’.”

[John] Knock knock knock!

[Amunet Trujillo] “Or I’ll kick your ass. Don’t forget that I can. Get the door, hey?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Oh, FYI in case time references matter (we probably shoulda chosen day), this is morning-ish]]

“Eat me.” She crawls out of bed, still carrying her serious case of bedhead and generally half-made up. She shambles to the door and opens it up, looking out.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Fuck you, I’m busy here.”

[John] The last time he was here, he was dismissed under the pretense that Amunet had “shit to do” that didn’t require his presence. He had gone, closing the door behind him without meaning to slam it, and grabbed up his jacket without stopping to say much in the way of goodbyes to her sister.

It’s warmer now, and the moon is heavier. When Sarita opens the door she finds John standing there, fully upright and almost militant in his posture rather than leaning against the doorframe. It’s above freezing, which means he’s without a jacket today. His outfit doesn’t vary much from day to day: he wears the same boots and jeans he has had since arriving the end of last month.

At any rate, if he was expecting someone else, it doesn’t show on his face. John looks different than he normally does, if only in his eyes. They’re as fiery as one can expect from someone with blue eyes, yet there is no hardness or ferocity on the rest of his face. He nods to Sarita, then pauses to scribble something in his journal. Showing it to her, she sees that “Amy” has been written atop “you.”

Hunter says you asked for me

[Amunet Trujillo] Deep breath, Ames. She can smell his scent, having picked up the habit of paying attention to how each person’s differs from years of Trueborn friends. She taps and swipes a couple of more things on the iPad, then looks up at the door but doesn’t get up.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks John up and down, her expression a bit bland. She blinks a bit of sleep away, rubs at her eyes, and then yanks. “Hey.” There’s a bleary smile that comes along with it. Someone didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, it would seem.

She leans in, squinting so that she can see the journal. “Oh. Right. C’mon in.”

She turns around and walks back toward her bed. “Bachelor +1’s here,” she says to Amy. “Wink Martindale’s not asking any fuckin’ questions, though.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Good. Because he’d get punched in the fucking mouth.”

She nods at John with a slight smile. “Hey. Sorry, I thought he’d just have you text me or something”

[John] Empathy isn’t his strong suit; he makes nothing of the way Sarita looks at him, and doesn’t read into it. For his part, he doesn’t look particularly tired. It’s hard to tell, what with nearly a month’s worth of facial hair grown in. Must be whoever was keeping on him about shaving his face departed from this world along with the pack he’d mentioned being dust now.

The journal is stuffed into his pocket for now, and John enters the room with some trepidation. Confusion comes across his features when Sarita mentions bachelors and winking and questions. He shakes his head, clearing the confusion away like water, and scratches his brow as Amy speaks. There is none of his usual attempts to seem as though he knows how to smile. One could say he’s businesslike, were one unaware of the current phase of the moon. He shakes his head, and then attempts to convey what happened to his phone by holding his left hand up to his ear, thumb and little finger forming the ‘phone,’ then draws his index finger across his throat.

That done, his hands go to his hips, and a curious expression comes across his face.

[Amunet Trujillo] “What did you do to it?” She reads him too easily. “Come sit down. I want to show you something.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She faceplants onto the bed, lying there dramatically for a moment before she rolls onto her back and gives a sigh. Yeah, she knows that she’s not sleeping at this point. Might as well get used to the idea. She looks up and between the duo, watching them with a vague curiosity.

[John] That question almost makes him laugh. Were the moon darker, he probably would have: John falls all too easily into the Strong Silent category, yet he isn’t a dour, humorless stereotype. No one is going to nominate him to be the face of the Fenrir tribe. For starters, if one were to ask the opinion of the rest of the populace he’s too damn pretty, but that’s beside the point. He laughs more than the rest of the Fenrir put together, and he doesn’t have a voice with which to accomplish this.

Not this morning, though. This morning it just takes away some of the intensity in his eyes for a few seconds, and then she’s imploring him to sit down. She wants to show him something.

Curiosity becomes suspicion. If he were a fertile male he might be even more concerned. John glances over to her sister, but finds no answer to his question. He remains standing.

[Amunet Trujillo] She scowls, just slightly. “Jesus fuck. I’ll keep my hands to myself. Sar is right fucking here so even if I wanted to do anything to you, I wouldn’t.” She runs her free hand through her hair, the casted hand sitting on her lap. “Just sit down, okay? Please?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives a little nod in conjunction with her sister’s words. There’s not much doubt that Sarita would NOT be cool with getting booted out so that more getting it on could happen. She may not be sleeping, but she has no intent of getting fully dressed so she’s decent enough to wander around the Broho.

“Truth. There would be much yelling and swatting with brooms. I’d possibly even turn the hose on her.”

[John] Maybe he was just waiting for her to ask him to sit down instead of telling him to, or wanted to hear the magic word. John looks away from the kinswoman when her sister pipes up, a soft huff of amusement leaving his nostrils with talk of punitive responses to Amy touching him made even softer by the fact that he isn’t blind and would have noticed the cast faster if his player weren’t half asleep. After a pause, he pulls a chair back from the desk and sits himself down, feet apart and hands clasped between his knees. He waits, eyebrows raised, that suspicion turned to wariness.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Jesus fuck. Just make this as fucking hard as possible on me, right?” She scowls a little more, repositioning herself so that she can turn the iPad around on her lap. Notepad is already open, and she uses one finger to tap out a short message, taking longer since she’s selecting her letters upside down now.

do you know how to type?

[John] He doesn’t seem to recognize the device she’s holding out in front of him, or recognize that that might possibly be what she wants to show him; his eyes flick to it, watching her finger as she writes out her question into the word processing program. Now, a normal person might think to maybe demonstrate that he does, in fact, know how to type by actually typing his response into the program, but John either actually has nothing better to do with his day than to make Amy’s task as difficult as possible, or he’s a creature that relies more on body language than intermediary sources to express simple thoughts.

In either case, he waits until she’s looking at him before he nods. He frowns, then seems to grasp something that she isn’t saying and reaches out to take the iPad.

[Amunet Trujillo] The fingers sticking out from the cast help to balance the iPad as he takes it, and she watches him before launching in full speed.

“There’s notepad, so you can type shit out instead of having to fill up notebooks. You can save notes, so like at the back of yours when you have shit you say all the time they’ll be right there. I can show you how.” She’s talking far too fast, clearly nervous. “There’s a couple games on it, and we can find you more shit if you want. The battery life is kind of shitty if you forget to turn it off, but there’s a charger that’s one of those usb things and the electric socket bit is separate, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find a way to charge it up….”

She has to breathe, eventually.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Sweetie…” She sits up, looking between the two. “Think you probably wanna go a bit slower than that. You practically lost ME in that particular explanation.”

[John] Glancing over at the Ragabash, John allows another of those not-quite-laughs to be heard, and looks down at the device. He is hardly the largest Garou roving the city, yet in his mitt the device looks small and fragile. They can both see, as he looks down at it, that he’s questioning whether or not he can handle the responsibility of something so expensive. He couldn’t grasp the concept of keeping a cell phone charged, and so that has fallen into the annals of Drawn in Blood’s History of Failed Attempts at Modern Communication.

He would probably be equally nervous if someone handed him an infant.

After a moment to digest the fact that someone else’s kinswoman just gifted him something very expensive and accompanied by an easily-voided warranty, John looks back up at Amy. His free hand scrubs at his face, callouses bristling against beard, and when he types it’s no more eloquent or properly spelled than his handwritten attempts.

thank you
i dont no if i can ecept this
afrad wil brak
wil you keep it for me

When he hands it to her, like with the phone, he relies on his facial expression to convey that it’s a question instead of using punctuation.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh. Yeah” She grins and reaches for something next to her, setting the black thing on her lap before tapping the screen. “There’s this shield thing on it, so it won’t get scratched. The case…” She takes the tablet over, showing him the back. “It’s that carbon fiber shit. Seriously hard to break. And…”

The grin gets bigger as she puts the tablet on the bed next to her, covering it with the black thing from her lap and struggling to get the top snapped into place one handed. She manages though, and once the screen is protected and the case completely covering it, picks the whole thing up and hurls it across the room.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She cringes as the thing flies across the room. She knows the case is sturdy, but it’s instinct as the sees the tablet computer being used as a frisbee…never mind the loud ‘smack’ when it hits the wall.

“Jesus fucking Christ su hijo bruja malvada de Satanás mismo me voy a estrangular a uno de estos días!

[Amunet Trujillo] She laughs and gets up to retrieve the tablet, fingers just barely brushing John’s shoulder as she moves past him.

“No, no lo son. Tú me amas. Y el efecto más, visual, ¿no? Él tiene que saber que lo digo en serio, y no sólo atraerlo aquí para nada.”

[John] He watches the tablet go flying through the air as if he’s watching a sporting event, eyes following the curvature of the iPad through the air with muted interest before it smacks against the wall and bounces a few feet. That seems to have convinced him, or at least has driven him to humor the kinswoman. He doesn’t tell her that his claws could probably destroy the thing in half a second, but neither is he given the chance: an eruption of Spanish from the bed has him looking over, idly scratching at his eyebrow.

And then Amy brushes his shoulder. He sits up ramrod straight, then hauls himself out of the chair and tugs on the hem of his shirt. Aware of the potency of his Rage this time of month, of her injured wrist, he does not trail after Amy. Assuming its next destination is his hand, John examines the iPad to see how the thing held up during its unmanned flight, then types. There is a pause after two hard returns, but he forges ahead.

Ok i wil tak car of it
Thank you
How much i ow you

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She still looks unsettled despite Amy’s comments. Sarita is no threat to go a red mindless killing spree, and compared to all but the most docile of Garou she’s very chill. It still doesn’t mean she’s a true joy to be around on nights that Luna’s face is fully visible. She shakes her head and falls back to lay on her back, looking between the two with a vaguely dour disposition.

“Guess I’m just lucky the infernal thing didn’t go heat-seeking on my head or some shit,” she mutters.

[Amunet Trujillo] The tablet is good as new when he opens it again, still powered up to the notepad.

The fact that he reacted like that didn’t escape her. She stands a bit away when she hands it to him, going the long way around to grab the charger and cord. “I’m sorry…”

Sighing, she winds around to settle on her bed again, cast in her lap, free hand tugging at a lock of hair nervously. “You don’t owe me nothing. I just thought it would help you. The case, there’s some silicone shit that blocks the ports so if you’re in the rain or whatever it won’t get fucked up. Like I said, I can show you how to use everything. You can put music and shit on it too, of course. That bird game is kind of funny….”

She trails off, knowing that she’s babbling, watching him intently to read every expression.

[John] There would normally be warmth and some sign of affection in his eyes. Perhaps he ought to have come after Luna had waned away from full, when he didn’t feel a drive to fight constantly, when he didn’t feel anger constantly eating at his breastbone like an ulcer threatening to send him careening into a frenzy that he cannot control. John is particularly dangerous: he can swallow back a berserk frenzy, can stave that off so long as he is not utterly drained of will to keep going, but should the Wyrm take him over there is nothing he or anyone else in the room can do. Running won’t help the latter, and he is metis. All Thralls are horrific, but there is something particularly gruesome about theirs.

It’s never happened to him. He’d probably be dead if it had.

At any rate, his expression as he watches Amy becomes inscrutable. It’s hard to tell if he understands half of what is coming out of her mouth, but John is honest almost to a fault. If he didn’t understand, she’d know. Without glancing back at Sarita, the notion that he’s doing something wrong apparently not something with which he’s concerned at the moment, John steps forward to grasp Amy’s shoulder. It’s firm, his hand near to unbearably warm, and there is no yearning or sensuality in it. He grasps his comrades’ shoulders like this.

The last he’d heard they were friends.

That done, he looks between the sisters, pocketing the charger and other cords, and appears mildly at a loss for what to do next. He holds the iPad up, the way he does to thank someone for the item he’s been given, then tucks it under his arms and pantomimes again: he points to his chest, holds up his cobbled-together ‘phone,’ punches buttons like he does when he texts, points to Amy, and waves his hand in a forward motion.

He’ll text her later.

With that, he nods to Sarita, and ducks out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

[Amunet Trujillo] “There’s a note on it.” She grabs for the iPad before he can put it away, for the moment ignoring the fact that he touched her. There’s plenty of time to obsess about what it did or didn’t mean later. She flicks back to the main screen, pointing to a saved note that’s just labeled with his name. “From me. Just… read it whenever.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She may be the snarkmaster, but she has the good sense to stay quiet. Whatever her thoughts about her sister’s latest overture to John–and what that overture may be motivated by–she isn’t going to interrupt and cause it to get weirder than it probably already is for them.

Why? Well, you go and do something to make an already on-edge Ahroun feel even less comfortable on the night of the full moon. Go ahead, do it. No really, go. I’ll wait. I don’t see you moving toward that Ahroun in the corner. You know why you’re not moving. Because you’re not a fucking idiot. Right, well, neither is Sarita. Hey, mention that incident from Seattle one more time, and…never mind. Just don’t.

When John looks her way, she gives him a little smile and wave.

[John] Somewhere between grasping her shoulder and pantomiming that he’ll text her later, John looks at the screen to see where the note has been stored. He doesn’t read it now, perhaps cautious of what it is he’s going to find there with her sister present, but he does nod, acknowledging that he understands what she’s pointing out, perhaps promising that he’s going to read it later.

Full Moons are strange to begin with. From childhood they are sensed as being different, difficult, by their human peers. John did not have human peers. He didn’t have human anything growing up, and metis, at ten years of age, look like teenagers. Considering what his life had to have been like growing up, what he’s expressed to Amy that he’s experienced in the last ten years, it’s a wonder he isn’t more overtly angry, less in control of his temper.

Even when he is restraining his tribesmen and punching people in the eye, it’s a calculated move rather than a loss of his ability to behave. Violence isn’t a thoughtless act with him, and it isn’t his first line of response.

At any rate, Sarita’s restraint and silence is still a sign of intelligence. She herself can feel the effects of the moon, though it isn’t visible. It’s worse for those of them inundated with Rage. John had taken a gamble coming here today, and he’s trying to leave before their luck runs out.

So: the pantomiming, and then the exit. He doesn’t linger any longer than he has to.

[Thanks for the scene, guys!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Thank you!]]

[Amunet Trujillo] She flops back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling and folding her good arm under her head.

“So…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Sooooooooo…” She finally gets up and starts looking for a comb to straighten out her rat’s nest of a post-nocturnal ‘do.

“What’s on your mind right now?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “That I’m pretty fucking sure I love him.” She sighs, turning onto her side toward her sister. “I will kill you if you ever repeat that, and I won’t do it all easy in your sleep.”

She curls up a little, knees pulled toward her chest. “It went okay though. I mean, he took it, right? That’s good.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’m telling NO ONE, believe you me.” She takes a breath. “But yeah, it went okay. I mean, it’s the full moon. It could have gone a LOT worse.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Yeah. He could have shoved it right up my ass and left.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That would have been a hospital trip for the record books.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “It would have been something.” She smiles very slightly. “I’m glad you were here”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, there was no way you were making me get dressed to leave.” She looks over and smiles a bit. “Happy to be here.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Pretty sure that if he’d unzipped, you would have been gone.” She sticks her tongue out, then looks away.

[Saschenka Neal] Up, up, up the stairs…!

She tromps up the stairs, bag of boots again dangling from her fingers and flats on instead. She looks a little more out of sorts then normal, but that’s what happens on Fridays when the weather is suddenly nice and you can see the ground again. People go insane, and helping police goes up, thus, one ends up with more work.

Glancing around, and see the common room empty, she stashes her boots in a corner, and then goes to explore. It be worth looking, to see if there were showers here in case of really bad work days. Neda probably wouldn’t mind that whole smelling like decomp but sometimes… you really wanted to at least wash off before walking into your home.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A wry look toward her sister as she starts running the comb through her hair. It catches several times and she makes an irritated look each time. “If he’d unzipped, that infernal thing would have gone flying at something a bit lower than the wall.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She half laughs “That was pretty good, wasn’t it? I knew he’d be worried about breaking it. I mean, if he gets his ass jumped by Spirals carbon fiber isn’t going to do shit, but…” She trails off, scowling as her brain spirals off into The Worst Thing That Could Ever Fucking Happen.

[Saschenka Neal] Glancing around a corner, she steps into the hallway and heads down it slowly, glancing around. Washers and dryers… and personal rooms. She was not going to even touch that with a ten foot pole. Though enough wandering shows her, as she pokes her head (carefully) into one room, that there are indeed showers.

“Awesome,” she murmurs more to herself, voice echoing ever so slightly in the empty hallway as she pulls back.

[Amunet Trujillo] Shaking her head hard, she hauls up off the bed. “I need to shower. Come on. Get your ass moving. We’ve got shopping to do”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey now.” She looks over at Amy. She knows her sister well enough to imagine where that’s going. “Pull yourself back from there, Miss Fatal Attraction. Don’t start plotting out any black dresses to wear yet, you’re getting a wee bit ahead of yourself.”

The sound of Sasha’s voice sounds from the hallway, and she stands. It’s not one she recognizes. She lets go of the comb, not minding that it has conveniently decided to stay in her hair, and moves to open the door and look out.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh fuck you. Stefan is taking me someplace decent, and even I’m not enough of an exhibitionist to get on a bike in a dress. I need something classy to wear.” She gets up too, following.

[Saschenka Neal] There is totally a blond woman in the hallway, hands clasped behind her back. Her hair is pulled into a braid and tucked up under and she seems to be wandering, looking at the rooms and the like. She’s dressed in sturdy jeans and an unzipped windbreaker that has ‘Crime Scene Technician’ stitched into the upper left. Just a plain, cotton t-shirt underneath it. The only thing a little out of place is the nice looking flats she’s wearing.

She glances over as she sees people, smiling a little, politely… maybe a little apologetically, for bothering them. There is the vague prickling of her skin that tells her at least one of the woman is a Trueborn and she nods, politely and respectfully.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks Sasha over, and her head cocks to the side. The comb that’s still stuck in her hair hangs over the floor.

“Okay, Amy. What did you do to bring the freaking Crime Lab here? I am NOT gonna be your alibi again…”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Um. Nothing?” She peeks around Sarita, looking the woman over “Oh, hey. You were in here last night….”

[Saschenka Neal] She startles, and then laughs, holding up her hands. “I swear, I’m off duty. I don’t think anyone could pay me enough to go back on duty at this point.”

There is a nod of her head as Amy says she was there last night, and the bruised face finally kick starts her memory. “I was. You were up at the bar… right?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Yeah. You lost or something?”

[Saschenka Neal] “No,” she answers, shaking her head and moving close so she’s not shouting down the hall. “It’s just that it’s only my second time up here, and I was looking to see what was available on this floor.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She takes a step the rest of the way out so that Amy and Sasha can talk, heedless of the fact that she’s more or less half-dressed in boxers and a T-Shirt. The T-Shirt, for the record, reads “Relax, I’m hilarious.”

She picks back up with combing her hair, watching Sasha with intense interest and a lopsided smile.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh. Well. It’s bedrooms, mostly. Dorm shit. And the showers.” She gestures, then gets close enough to offer her hand. “I’m Amy. That’s my sister, Sarita.”

Apparently, the modesty gene came from Sarita’s mother’s side. Amy happily parades out in a tank top and panties, oblivious to the potential offensive factor.

[Saschenka Neal] If she’s offended, she totally doesn’t let it show. It’s odd, perhaps, but she’s seen people wearing worse, so panties and a tank top is just fine. A hand reaches out to shake Amy’s, and she smiles a little. “It’s nice to meet you both, I’m Sasha. And I saw the showers, that’s… really nice to have.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hola.” She smiles and waves with her non-combing hand. “We’re the classy ones around here.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Well. Otherwise we’d stink, right?”

[Saschenka Neal] “Very classy,” Sasha agrees, a smile playing along her lips. “And I was happy for them for other reasons but… yeah, probably be a touchy smelly if there weren’t any showers.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Speak for yourself. My natural scent is fucking roses and sunshine.” She grins, taking a lean back against the wall. The fact that Sasha hasn’t yet taken offense appears to be a good thing in Sarita’s eyes.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Bitch, I lived in a van with you. You are full of shit.”

[Saschenka Neal] There is a slight arching of her eyebrow at the exchange, but she still looks amused at the both of them. “Apologies, ma’am. I shall attempt to smell you better next time to ascertain your rose status.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Soooo….. Sasha. You and your mate new in town?”

She’s already pegged the woman as Fang by the looks of her. And Fangs are all too willing to latch on to the first Garou that comes their way.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh god…Sasha, was it?” She gives the woman a wide-eyed, pleading look. “Please, ever call me Ma’am again. She’s the one with the stick up her ass.” A thumb directed at Amy and a grin. “Sarita would be lovely. In fact, from the way I hear it, Sarita IS lovely. Haven’t had any complaints, anyway.”

[Saschenka Neal] The arched eyebrow goes higher, more pronounced, a little bit of that hoity toity showing that shows Amy she is indeed a Fang. “… no mate. Not even a boyfriend, actually. And yes, I just got here about a week and a half ago.”

Her look relaxes a bit at Sarita’s plea though and she actually grins, if only briefly. “I think I can do that. No more ma’am-ing.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She looks Sasha up and down. “Why not? Something wrong with you? Can’t pop out crotch fruit fast enough for them?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, well cool.” That at the fact that Sasha just got here…not the no boyfriend thing. Not that Sarita has a problem with the fact that she doesn’t have a man. Not that she particularly loves it either. Sarita ain’t like that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, ’cause there ain’t Some of her best friends are…no, it’s not a line. No, it ain’t like that. Look, let’s quit while we’re ahead, okay.

Amy gets a roll of the eyes. “Be nice, you. That’s the opposite of what you’re being.”

[Saschenka Neal] “We have gone from amusing to slightly insulting, but I’ll roll with the insinuation because it’s not entirely off.” She says smoothly, eyes maybe narrowing, though the smile stays. “It’s a long story, actually, though I’m someone somewhere has said I’m defective and or something is wrong with me. I would actually bet my next paycheck on it.”

[Amunet Trujillo] For whatever reason, she breaks into a smile. “Well then. Welcome to Chicago.”

[Saschenka Neal] For a moment or two longer, her shoulders remain tense, as if preparing. But when Amy relaxes, so does she, smiling faintly back. “…thanks. Also, crotch fruit is a new one. Crotch dropping I heard, but not yours.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Yeah, I’m pretty proud of it. People have to stop and think before they’re offended.” She nods, still smiling.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles at the two, shaking her head before something occurs to her and she looks at Sasha. “Oh, hell. Have you met Katherine yet?”

[Saschenka Neal] There’s something that flickers in the kin’s eyes when Sarita mentions Katherine, but she shakes her head, hands sliding behind her back again, like she’s at parade rest almost. “… no, I haven’t met her yet, though she’s been mentioned to me.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, do you wanna?” She dips into the room for just a second, returning with her phone. “She’s my packmate-to-be, I can give her a call…”

[Saschenka Neal] No, she really has no desire to meet the Fang Elder and see what she’s going to say. But she nods, managing to smile to Sarita. “That be great, I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

Seeming to realize Amy did indeed speak before Sarita mentioned Katherine, she shakes her head a bit. “It does sound slightly less offensive then crotch dropping, at first blush.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She seems to be pretty content to just let them talk, her mind already having wandered off to analyze every detail of the previous hour in excruciating detail.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Of course.” She smiles at Sasha and flips the phone open, hitting a number she only recently programmed into her memory and dialing.

[Saschenka Neal] Her smile fades a bit, and she glances around before looking back to Amy. Since Sarita is making the phone call, she murmurs, “Have you been in Chicago a long while?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey yo Katherine, it’s Sarita. Found one of your peeps here at the Brotherhood, she’s new around these parts. Her name’s Sasha…” She pauses a moment, and cups the phone to look at Sasha.

“Sorry, she’s not here so I’m leaving her a voice mail. What’s the rest of your name and your phone number? She’ll totally follow up.”

[Saschenka Neal] She doesn’t grimace, but it’s a near thing. “If it’s a message, it’s Saschenka. Saschenka Neal.” And then she gives her cell number to Sarita.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Schweet.” She doesn’t even blink at the name, though she does grin a bit before she goes back to the phone.

“Sorry, it’s Saschenka Neal. You can give her a call at XXX-XXX-XXXX. Good deed for the day accomplished, and you and I gotta hang one of these days. Peace out.”

She hangs up and puts the phone away. “Taken care of.”

[Saschenka Neal] She manages to smile again, though it’s not the widest smile ever. “Again, thank you. It’s appreciated it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles. “Relax, she’s pretty cool. Pretty lassaiz-faire. You don’t make her life hell, she won’t give you a hard time.”

[Saschenka Neal] She forces her body to relax, and her features to even out as much as she can make them. “So I’ve heard. I try hard not to make any Trueborns’ life hell. It generally makes -my- life less hellish as a result.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Generally, a good way to go.” She grins. “Amy feels differently.”

[Saschenka Neal] “Sometimes,” she admits, with a faint smile, “a kin feels they have to do what they have to do. If that be occasionally speaking up or pointing out flaws so be it.”

She pauses, and then adds in, admitting, “It should probably be done carefully though. We don’t regenerate.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I haven’t pissed off all of them here. Yet.” At least she’s paying attention again.

[Saschenka Neal] “… yet?” She asks, arching that thin eyebrow. She’s more relaxed again though, having eased out of the parade rest into a more normal stance.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yet,” she says, to add further emphasis and confirm Sasha’s question.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Not for lack of trying.” She shrugs a shoulder, looking off down the hall for a moment.

[Saschenka Neal] “Not a hobby I would chose personally, but to each their own.” She admits with her own slight shrug, not really judging. She is most certainly not one to judge about things like that.

[Amunet Trujillo] “It’s not really a hobby. It’s more just an unfortunate side effect to me not being a well behaved, keeps my mouth shut kin.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “We’re not normal.” She says it with a grin. “So, Crime Scene Tech, eh? Sounds like fun.”

[Saschenka Neal] There is a moment where the look on her face, and the little smirk, indicate she seems to know exactly what Amy is talking about. “I’ve noticed that.”

[Saschenka Neal] But then Sarita is talking about CST and this is a lot easier to talk about. “It has it’s days. I’ve seen stuff that can be classified as hilarious and interesting. And then they’re are other days… not so much with the fun.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m going to get a shower, Sar. I need to find something for tonight.” She nods at Sasha with a little smile. “Nice meeting you. See you around, and all that shit.”

[Saschenka Neal] She nods, managing a small, honest smile to Amy. “Have a good night.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles at Sasha. “Yeah, I can imagine. It’s not all funny anal insertion accidents and heart attacks mid-coitus.”

She nods to Amy. “Later Ames. If you need to dip into the reserve fund, you know where it is. Call me if you need anything.”

[Saschenka Neal] “I have actually never had heart attack mid-coitus. Stuff like that, actually, I rarely get called for. I get a lot of burglary, home invasion, please come collect this knife because these people got into a fight over a hat…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I notice you said nothing about never having had an anal insertion accident…”

[Saschenka Neal] “I stopped being surprised at that stuff within my first six months of being on the job,” she gives a wry grin. “The things people do to themselves… it’s rare, but when you are called to it, that stuff sticks in your brain.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles. “Yeah, I bet. Something for the brain bleach, no doubt.” She looks down at herself, then frowns. “I should get dressed. C’mon in.” She gestures her head toward the door to the room and then walks inside.

[Saschenka Neal] Brain bleach….? She mouths to herself, trying to figure that one out before Sarita motions for her to come inside. She pauses, surprised, before she follows after the other woman. “Sorry, didn’t mean to keep you outside undressed.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, pssht.” She shrugs, walking over to a dresser and digging inside it. “Didn’t bother me none, but I gotta face the day at some point, right? Close the door, if you don’t mind.”

[Saschenka Neal] “No problem.”

The woman’s rage is negligible enough that she’s not entirely freaked out about being in a room with her with the door shut. So she shuts the door at the woman’s request, though she leans back against the wall near it.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She does have a lot of shame as she pulls out a new T-Shirt, stripping off her old one and putting the new one on. She finds a pair of jeans in the dresser as well and steps into them. “So, how’re you finding the city so far?”

[Saschenka Neal] Politely, very politely, she averts her eyes as the other woman changes. “… busy. Mostly busy, so far. With more kin, then trueborn.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, there are a lot of kin around here.” She runs her fingers through her hair, straightening it, then picks up her duster and slips it on. “The Garou aren’t as prevalent around the Brotherhood, but you’ll find them. Good lot, for the most part. Only a couple dicks.”

[Saschenka Neal] “I’ll take your word for it.” She almost asks who she should avoid, and then thinks better then not. After a moment, like it’s a natural jump in conversation, “Are there a lot of Silver Fangs?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Mmm…” She frowns and thinks. “One, two…three kinfolk that I know of, you included. Three True that I’ve met; Katherine, Asha–also part of the pack–and Matthieu.”

[Saschenka Neal] The names are committed to memory- Asha, and Matthieu. Derek is the other kin which only leaves one other Silver Fang unaccounted for. It’s more then she thought but less then she feared, so… not terrible, but not ideal. “And Katherine is the Tribe Elder, for the Caern?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That’s right,” she says with a nod. “She’s a Fostern, Asha and Matthieu are Cliaths. Katherine’s also the Master of the Challenge.”

[Saschenka Neal] Fostern AND holding a position within the Caern itself. Wonderful. There’s a tiny shake of her head at something, a hand pushing back a flyaway hair before she nods. “Got it. Master of the Challenge. Philodox, I’m assuming?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yep. You don’t earn the names ‘Truth’s Meridian” and “Honor’s Compass” as a Ragabash. Trust me, I’ve tried.” She throws Sasha a wink, before the look mellows some.

“Seriously, sweetie. I promise, you’ll be cool.”

[Saschenka Neal] Grey eyes watch Sarita for a moment or two before she smiles to her, nodding slightly. “I’m sure. And a Ragabash named Honor’s Compass would just be plain weird. I really have to admit.”

She shifts slightly, and then smiles sheepishly. “… I know my mannerisms give my tribe away, but I regret I’m not so great at gathering others tribe’s yet. I should have asked from the beginning to whom you’re with.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Ohhhh…” She blinks and now it’s her turn to look sheepish. She flops down on the bed, scooting to make room for Sasha. There’s also a chair nearby that was pulled out before Sasha got here, and Amy’s bed further across the room.

“Right, sorry. Amy and I are Silent Striders. My bad.”

[Saschenka Neal] She actually heads to the chair, nogt comfortable with sitting on someone elses bed. But she does sit, and her eyes get wide momentarily before she controls the reaction. “… I actually never met a Silent Strider. My brother told me one use to come by the Caern, up in Michigan, but… well, Kin didn’t go there.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives a little nod. “Lotta people never met one of us. Too much wandering itch running through our legs to stay in one place for the most part. I wandered a good nine years before I met Amy, and then we’ve been together a year before we got here last month.”

[Saschenka Neal] She smiles, faintly. “It’s good you have each other, at the very least.”

There is a pause, and she glance at her phone, wincing, and then standing. “… Sarita, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. I should head home.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles and waves off the apology. “No prob.” She pulls out her cell and texts the number that Sasha gave her earlier.

“There, you got my number. You need anything, don’t hesitate to call. Coo’?”

[Saschenka Neal] Surprise ripples across her face again at the offer, but she nods. “… yeah, thanks. Have a good night Sarita. It was really nice meeting you.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You too.” A smile. “Take it easy. Don’t have too much fun.”

[Saschenka Neal] She does a soft laugh, nodding, and then slips out to head home.

That Sister of Mine Got Me Punched

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s actually semi-up. By “semi-up,” that means that she’s in the common room, half-dozing and half-staring at the television. Sarita has problems sleeping in a room by herself, with the amount of traveling she’s done with her sister these days. God have pity on her poor sleep schedule if one of them ever moves out and leaves the other one behind.

At this point, it’s informercial time. She’s blinking, awake JUST enough to be flipping through the channels and mumbling.

“Don’t need a bigger dick…don’t need jullianne fry maker…don’t need Soft Rock of the 70s…don’t need industrial-strength carpet cleaner…”

And so it goes.

[John] In about twelve hours, the males of Defiance will be incapable of going out in public without scaring the majority of humans whose paths they come across.

That isn’t what the Fenrir of the pair is thinking about as they mount the stairs for the second time in twenty-four hours, he once again taking the lead, as if acknowledging that this is his bed that he has made, that he is the one who has to lie in it. At this point he just wants to push the bed into the fucking river and start sleeping on the floor like he used to, but that’s neither here nor there. He isn’t here to talk to Amy. He has determined already that there is absolutely zero point in talking to Amy.

It’s hard enough to get other people to listen to him when he can’t fucking talk, but when they won’t read what he writes, either, that makes the endeavor all the more fruitless and frustrating.

At any rate, the two males–one green-eyed and bulky and the other blue-eyed and unshaven–appear at the head of the stairs as Sarita is bemoaning the lack of engaging programming at 7:30 on a Tuesday morning. John’s eyes only briefly flick to the large television to frown at what it is she’s doing, then lifts his head in a nod. It isn’t as gregarious as the one he tossed her the last time they met, yet he isn’t slinking, either. He simply isn’t in a mirthful mood this morning.

He gestures between the Ragabash and himself with a questioning expression, then furrows his brow and makes a gabbing motion with his left hand. The closest translation is Can we talk?

His Alpha and translator’s presence wouldn’t suggest that it’s actually a choice she has, but at least the hulking Modi is attempting diplomacy.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She blinks twice, sitting up when she hears footsteps coming up to the landing of the common room. She looks over John and Hunter and then rubs at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Oh hey, hola…” She yawns and pops her neck to either direction.

When she realizes that this isn’t a casual ‘Yo, what’s up’ type visit, she blinks once more to get a little more alert. As John does the gesturing, she seems to get the gist of it and sighs. She has that look on her face of weary resignation, like you know that a piece of birdshit is about land on your head, but you also know that you can’t avoid it. Might as well put of the Wile E. Coyote sign that says “Ulp!” and get the shampoo ready. Sarita sighs and nods in acknowledgment of the request to talk.

“What did she do this time?”

[Hunter] “Let’s get some air ye’?”

He says this to Sarita, flicks his head towards the stairs and then waits for the two of them to hustle their way first up towards the roof. The door pushes open and there’s actually the faint glow of sun on the horizon, today might be a nice day despite the fact that it is freezing cold. The weather doesn’t bother the Modi nor the Gnawer though he tips his chin down into the popped collars of his coat and reaches inside his pocket.

A packet of cigarettes is taken out, Camel no filters and a worn zippo. He pops one in his mouth, lights it and then offers the pack to the two of them once the door has closed behind him. The rooftop has snow in places, a lot of it has been lost by the few reasonably pleasant days since the epic storm but it is there in patches, in the corners and shadow of the building. There are blood stains up here, tales of fights long since passed.

“So we gots ourself a problem.”

[John] John accepts the cigarette. Knowing sign language from any country known to man would not help him if the rest of the Nation doesn’t know it, either; his hands are as useless as his throat in engaging in a conversation like this, and as much as the stereotypical Modi loathes asking for help, asking his people to tend to his sickness, this isn’t a sickness. That’s on his parents, so far as most emotionally stable Garou are concerned, and he does the best he can with what he has to work with.

Unfortunately, this means using his bound packmates as a mouthpiece when he has to have a serious discussion with another Garou. For what it’s worth, he looks at Sarita when Hunter talks, and at Hunter when he’s relaying what it is he wants said. He doesn’t wince when Hunter speaks, though he knows damned well that he’s going to put his own delightful flourish on the information.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She follows along to the outside, popping her own cigarette into her mouth. She squints, looking around the outside as she lights up. She has a feeling this is not going to be a very pleasant conversation, but she’s an optimist. She’s hoping to be surprised.

“What, because my sister has a thing for you and doesn’t know how the hell to deal with it?” She gets the just of what’s going on here, and she’s looking at John when she speaks, though she throws an occasional glance to Hunter so that she’s not ignoring the Gnawer. She’s not hostile or defensive around these two. She’s just a little tired at the moment.

[Hunter] He nods his head to Sarita’s words, hands over the lighter to John and pulls his own cigarette from his lips after inhaling. A breath of smoke filled with frosty steam, bill hicks would be waiting for Hunter to pass out from exhaling. He doesn’t.

“S’part’a it. She knows what John here is, keeps on houndin’ him anyway.”

His eyes flick to John and he nods confirmation.

“John gotta’ text ta’ show ya’. Says it’s dishonourable for her ta’ be tryn’a get more’n a mistake outta’ John, dishonourable for ya’ ta’ let her.”

A quick puff.

“I agrees.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She frowns. Trying to get more than a mistake out of John? Something about that sentence doesn’t seem to register to the woman. Whatever it means, she’s sure that she’s going to find out, so she doesn’t bother asking. She just gives a little nod, exhaling a drag of smoke, and holds out her hand.

“A’ight. Let’s see it.”

[John] The Modi plugs the cigarette between his lips and pulls the cell phone, already scratched and battered despite being less than a week old, out of his hip pocket. Frowning against the drifting cigarette smoke, he awkwardly pecks through the screen with his index finger until he finds the last message he received, sometime yesterday afternoon. Rotating the phone, he hands it off to Sarita.

From Amunet, it reads:
Just.. fucking let me know if you want this to be something or not. I’m not going to make an ass of myself any more than I already have. I told you how I feel. Ball’s in your court. Text me back if you want something. Don’t bother if you don’t.

[Hunter] “This from yesterday,” Hunter adds.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She takes the phone, reads the message. Her brow furrows, a bit of a frown coming up on her face. She looks between the two, eyes hitting John first, then Hunter and back to John. And then she hands the phone back to John. The Strider obviously understands the words on the phone, but there’s confusion there.

“So you guys think it’s dishonorable…what? That she’s interested in John and wants to be in a relationship with him? That she’s chasing him? I’m not getting the dishonor here.”

She looks at John. “She has a romantic interest in you. She knows what you are. It doesn’t matter. She has problems expressing such a thing, and as such she may be a bit…” She pauses. “Poorly-worded about it. But she’s asking if you are interested in being involved with her. If you don’t want to be, then tell her that. Just please don’t NOT tell her. Because all that does is leave her hanging.”

[Hunter] A tick across Hunter’s jaw as it clenches, eyes narrowing upon the Ragabash and his nostrils flare to the smells of cold wind and cigarette smoke.

Eyes turn to John.

“It does fuckin’ matter cause there ain’t no sumthin’ ta’ be had. It’s dishonourable cause he can’t give her what she wants but she keeps fuckin’ askin’ for it anyway like that’s somehow gonna change anythin’.”

A pause, he licks over his teeth.

“John wants ta’ know why she think it don’t matter what he is.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Because she’s not looking to be mated and settle down and have kids.” She sighs and shakes her head, looking at the ground. There’s something a little bit angry there…not at Hunter and not at John. Not at anyone, really, just…generally so. She takes a drag off the cigarette and looks up.

“Listen, my sister? She’s not like normal kin. She doesn’t want what everyone else wants, and she’s not going to have a normal kinfolk’s life. When she was growing up? She earned her way into going out to do certain missions with the Cliaths. And that wasn’t even enough for her. But the point is, she had earned it back at her home sept. And because of that, she’s never going to be the stay at home, raise kids and such kind of girl. You dig?”

She shrugs. “She wants someone who she can spend time with. Who she can care about and who respects her. It’s not dishonorable any more than it is when two kinfolk get involved. There’s not going to be any of us bred from that. Does that mean it’s wrong? No. She doesn’t want what John can’t give her. She wants what he can. If you think that’s dishonorable, then fine. But don’t do her the disservice of figuring she’s like every mousy kinfolk out there who just wants security and a home. Truth be told, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that she might die before I do.” Her jaw juts out a bit at that.

“And I’ve had to accept that. Because that’s who she is.”

[John] John looks absolutely flummoxed. He looks between Sarita and Hunter not as though she has started speaking Spanish. Even Spanish, incomprehensible to him, seems to make sense, its cadence and intonation getting across that some human thought is occurring. This doesn’t translate at all even though it’s in a language he has been exposed to his entire life and speaking for half of it.

The largest of the three of them scrubs his face, as if he’s developing a headache, and looks at Sarita with a look that’s part plaintive and part flint as he talks to Hunter.

[Hunter] How brow creases, eyebrows narrowing along with his eyes when Sarita begins to talk about what it is that drives Amy, what the kinswoman really wants. John’s voice sounds in his head a moment later and he doesn’t take his eyes off the Ragabash even in the silence.

“John don’t like it, her thinkin’ it’s okay ta’ bed a Metis n’tha Nation won’t care. Does she care about John? Would she care what fuckin’ Katherine Bellamonte would do ta’ him if she knew bout’ some Metis bangin’ kinfolk? I know Kate, fought with her before many times, she’s a good chick but she’d have his fuckin’ balls for bangin’ a bred kinfolk.”

A brief beat.

“No offence John.”

“If she cares about him she needs ta’ get this foolish shit outta’ her head cause it don’t matter what she thinks it should be like, it only matters what it is like.

If she cares about him she needs ta’ leave em’ tha’ fuck alone. N’I swear ta’ fuckin’ god Sarita, if ya’ stupid fuckin’ sister fucks with one’a ma’ pack n’gets him inta’ trouble I will smear ya’ fuckin’ brains all over fuckin’ bronzeville till ya’ given what ya’ cost ma’ pack.”

His finger points at her, but it falls now and his expression softens.

“None’a this needs ta’ be done. She just gotta’ accept that tha’ Nation don’t think it’s right – what she’s askin for n’all – n’that she’s fuckin’ puttin’ his life on tha’ line with her thinkin’.

She needs ta’ fuckin’ quit it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] None of it seems to faze her. The statement of what Katherine would do, the threat, she listens to it all. Her jaw is still set solidly from when she spoke, like she knew this was coming. The most reaction they get is a hardening of her gaze when Hunter places a threat on her life. When it’s all done, she just smirks and shakes her head, giving a little chuckle.

“And of course, since you guys don’t want to be the one to tell her, you’re telling me to tell her.”

She gives a little shrug, taking a drag off of her cigarette, and looks between the two. There’s been something lost here, no doubt. She exhales the smoke into the air, where it dissipates into nothingness, and nods.

“Fine. I will tell her. I’ll say this, though. This wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t decided to play bounce the bed back and forth and kiss her on top of it like it meant something. While Katherine’s packmate was in the other room with me, no less. She could have let it all go, but she’s felt something she hasn’t felt before. Ever. So before we all go about talking about how my sister is the bitch here for putting John in a tough spot, let’s remember that it takes two to tango, and that the blame isn’t all on her. She’ll be upset and I’ll clean up the mess, that’s fine. But don’t you fuckin’ threaten my ass again. I may seem all happy and big with the jokes, but I don’t expect to have my hide threatened by those I fight alongside. And I take that shit seriously.”

She licks her fingers and snuffs out the cigarette, pocketing it to be deposited somewhere later.

“We done?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[John] [I’M SORRY SAM 😦
+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Hunter] [Sarita
John]

[John] [Kahseeno knows his cause is unjust.
1: shove. Don’t ask me what this is supposed to accomplish besides looking manly and intimidating.
R1: punch.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[No dodge. She’s not moving, even though she sees it coming.]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] When she gets shoved, she kind of expects it. She she sees the punch coming. She doesn’t dodge (though she is glad she snuffed the smoke so it doesn’t roll away or get in anyone’s eye–that shit fucking SUCKS). Instead, the corners of her mouth twist up in a trademark, faint lopsided grin.

[John] Which apparently just makes him want to botch EVEN LESS.

[Mod’s telling me nix the R1, have 1 be the punch.
1: Brawl+Dexterity: I’M SORRY 😦 ]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]

[John] [Strength +3 (Eagle) +0] [B]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Soaky soaky, artichokey?]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[John] The only time Hunter has seen John strike another Gaian was the night he called him “Dibs” in the coffeehouse and he attempted to punch him in the throat instead of saying Hey man I hate that name. Granted, that night he didn’t have someone there who could translate for him, and he was bereft of pen and paper and the patience to procure some just to make a point. His fists, he felt, would suffice, and he was accused of not being kept busy enough by an Adren he has not seen again.

What his problem is right now, Hunter could articulate even without John repeating it for likely the nineteenth time this week: he told Amy, the best way he knew how, that he could not be with her. Even if the best way he knew how was to tell her he was metis, or to tell her to date Leon, he made the attempt.

With Hunter right there, he could have repeated this without punching Sarita in the eye, which is what he ends up doing. When he turns away from her he doesn’t look victorious, or mindless, or even irritated. He doesn’t look like anything. The Modi draws a heavy breath, shakes out his hand, and walks–not storms, or stalks, or stomps, but walks–back to the doorway leading downstairs.

[Hunter] Hunter’s stance becomes alert as soon as the Modi pushes Sarita, maybe even before. He prepares for a fight but it becomes obvious that the Strider isn’t going to fight back, at least not with her fists. She gets socked in the eye and then John turns around and walks calmly back towards the doorway.

The Gnawer crosses his arms over his chest.

“That was him tellin’ ya that he told her. Came ta’ ya’ because she ain’t gettin tha’ message.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And just like that, she’s spun around and on her knees a stunned squawk. She stays there, motionless for a moment, and wipes at the blood coming from where his knuckle made contact with bone and cut her. She takes a beat, and then looks back. She’s not angry about the punch. She expected that. She just looks up at him.

“Funny, she seems to have thought otherwise. Because he never said, from anything I’ve seen or heard, ‘I don’t want to date you.’ I guess that would be too easy. And none of it changes the fact that he got down and to my knowledge, he didn’t have a gun to his head.”

She shrugs. “I ain’t saying Amy isn’t at fault. She deserves her share of the blame. But if it had been spelled out this way to her? We’d have never had this conversation. Now, if you don’t mind, I hear a Cialis informercial calling my name.”

[Hunter] “Ain’t my job ta’ be teachin’ kinswomen how ta’ act. Ya’ should have explained it to her if she didn’t get it.”

Now that John is out of earshot he speaks plainer.

“You got any fuckin’ idea what it’s like ta’ be a Metis? Cause I sure as shit don’t but I’ve known quite’a few of em, respected quite a few of em too. Maybe ya’ should think bout how it is for John ta’ be asked ta’ explain himself bout’ what he is n’why he can’t have what he wants.”

He raises an eyebrow.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She leans in a little. “And do YOU have any idea what it’s like to be a kinfolk who was constantly told she was less then a sister she never met for over twenty years and tried to be greater than anyone said she could be, and has actually been able to accomplish what most kinfolk can’t? I don’t, but I’ve know one for the last fuckin’ year, and I love her to death. Maybe YOU should think about what it is for Amy to not even be told why she can’t have what she wants.”

She’s defensive, yes. You can do whatever you want to her, but her sister, she takes punches for without batting an eye…even when it’s been beaten in. “You just try and tell someone who was allowed to accomplish what people told her was impossible that she can’t be allowed to care for someone. And it’s not your job to teach Amy how to act, true. But if you’re his alpha, I sure as fuck hope he at least got bitched at for actually fucking her in the first place. I’ll do my part, but I will not let you demonize my sister and sanctify him. He could have said no when they were in our bedroom.”

[Hunter] With that he sighs, turns around and walks towards the door. “Fuckin’ ain’t tha’ problem Sarita.” He pries it open with one hand. “Plenty’a people be fuckin’ n’keepin’ behind closed doors. Not expectin’ anythin’ that ain’t possible.” It sounds like he speaks from experience and his head turns over his shoulder to look at her again.

“If she ain’t got told ya’ only got ya’self ta’ blame.”

He disappears down the stairwell.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She makes a strangled sound, hands clenching. “Satan in a handbasket boning Saddam Hussein with a pineapple…Hunter!”

She moves to the stairwell, but doesn’t go down. She’s not going to chase after them, but the sound of his name does have a ‘come back’ tone to it.

[Hunter] He emerges from the stairs, eyes find John and he nods his head to that drinking motion. Hunter could use one despite how fucking early it is. The bar isn’t usually serving people this early but there will be workers down stairs for breakfast, a beer won’t be hard to find.

Steps don’t take him far from the stairs, instead he just rounds the corner and starts heading down towards the kitchen.

[John] [Thanks, Sam!]

Of Lineage, Shadow Lords and Buckets Of Cold Water

[Sofie Janssen] After an adventure back to the Brotherhood, which had her covered in snow and more than a few falls off the back of a sled, Sofie had showered, changed clothes and grabbed something to eat. That was hours ago. Now the Kinfolk was sitting on the couch, television off, taking advantage of the fact that plenty of Garou are out on a Saturday night and not lounging around like herself.

White ear buds sit in the young womans ears, strings sliding down to the mp3 player, not iPod, laying on her stomach. Blonde hair dried and falling over the arm of the couch, she’s resting the back of her neck over the arm and had her eyes closed. Sweat pants and a t.shirt is warm enough in the Brotherhood and bare toes tap to a regular beat, tucked up onto the couch with her, knees bent and looking comfortable.

“Unmade bed.
Makes me feel.
Like a failure…”

She’s singing louder than she realizes, and Hunter need not defend himself after hearing the Fenrir Kin’s voice.

[Hunter] At least there is that; at least Sofie doesn’t sound as bad as Hunter does. He of course thinks he sings perfectly lovely, which makes the Fenrir kin’s voice sound like an angel. Footsteps are heard on the stairs but they don’t come from below, they come from above and she sees his feet appear before his face.

He moves heavily, the grace of a predator but not the inhuman litheness that she had witnessed in him even in his drunken state. Something about him seems different, stronger, more resolved and it continues into his face when it appears. His eyes are perceptive, scanning the room even as he enters. It had been empty when he had gone upstairs, now there is someone sitting in it. He wears Jeans, boots, his rough and long brown jacket buttoned tightly around his body.

His hair is ruffled by the winter winds, flecks of snow can be seen in parts of it though he doesn’t brush his hand through it to remove them.

“Yo,” he announces, eyes narrowing for a second, waves his hand if he hasn’t got her attention yet and then unceremoniously dumps himself on the couch beside her. “Whatcha’ listenin’ to?”

[Sofie Janssen] Her eyes snap open when she feels the presence. It’s less about hearing anything or seeing anything, obviously, and more to do with a gut instinct. She looks around and then over to him as he’s strolling out from upstairs. Briefly she wonders what’s up there. By the looks of it just the roof.

Then she’s studying him, her singing ceased, as she tries to place what was different about him. It’s hard to pin point since she’s seen him once before only. She doesn’t move where she’s sitting, shoulder into the back of the couch and lounging back like that against the arm, looking for all the world like a girl tucked up at home in front of the television. Except for those eyes and that blood, and those features.

He can hear the music, pouring out with a lot of guitar, but she reaches up and tugs the buds gently from her ears with one hand and slides the volume lower with her other. “Veruca Salt. Earthcrosser.”

Sitting next to her has her shift to sit taller, and move her toes so that he doesn’t place his ass on them. They wiggle into the space between the cushions, forcing her knees to tuck higher and fold her more in half. “Want to listen?” she asks, offering him out the headphones.

[Hunter] He doesn’t sit on her toes luckily, that would be slightly awkward for both of them. It has nothing to do with his placement of himself though and more to do with the fact that she tucks her feet up at the last minute. He leans back into the couch, eyes closing after he asks that question with his neck curled into the top of the sectional. One eye peels open when she asks him if he wants to listen, he has never heard of the band but then again she had never heard of Bradley and Lou dog so all is fair.

The other eye opens and he nods with a tip of his chin. “Ya’ sure,” a hand reaches out, takes hold of one of the buds and he places it to his ear closest to her. He sways his head back and forth a few times, hmms, vibrating from between pursed lips and then he removes the ear bud, hands it back to her.

“Sounds aight, dunno if it’s my kinda thing tho. How’s this fine establishment been treatin’ ya’?”

[Sofie Janssen] While he listens, she sits there and merely watches him. Sofie doesn’t stare, but lets her gaze flit back and forth across his features as he absorbs the music not to his taste. There really was pretty foreigners in this city, she’s already decided, Hunter confirms this. Sofie’s beginning to firmly believe that Chicago must be an ugly place in dire need of attractive genetics and that’s why there’s a warm of handsome Garou in town, most of them men – who, no doubt, are around to spread their seeds like wildfire.

“Yeah,” she says, taking back the ear bud. “Screaming girls on guitars are an acquired taste.” Tucking the earphones up, wrapping them around her now switched off player, she seems content to be social for the time being. “You wouldn’t know how to play a guitar would you?” There’s a brief grin at that, before she goes on to answer his question.

“It’s alright. No complaints.” Yet. Her gaze roams around the room, then dart back to him. “I was expecting much worse.”

[Hunter] There are pretty men in Chicago, pretty girls. There are also troublesomely pretty girls, though Sofie doesn’t give Hunter that idea. The Fangs are the worst, socialite monsters each and everyone of them, even the nice ones. Apparently screaming girls is an acquired taste and Hunter’s lips quick into something of a grin. His hands start to unbutton his coat and he has to lift forward off the couch to shrug out of it. It’s warm in here for the Ahroun, toasty. Could make a man with as much Rage as Hunter Matthews feel drowsy.

Beneath is just a plain black t-shirt, fitted but without any apparent markings. He drapes his jacket over the arm of the chair while he’s listening to the Fenrir kin talk.

“What did ya’ expect? Like fuckin’ orgies n’loud idiot’s every night?” He grins, clearly joking. The brotherhoods loud idiot died last month.

[Sofie Janssen] A small huff is amused. She watches him take off his jacket, and while he’s leaned forward, takes the opportunity to shift the way she’s sitting so that her knees are to one side, resting into the back of the couch, and her spine is straighter so she doesn’t feel like she’s eating a kneecap. While there had been plenty of room for the Garou to sit elsewhere he had decided to sit right next to her, which doesn’t bother her as much as it might others, understanding that Garou have different boundaries to humans.

“Yeah, more or less. Some of the girls here give that impression to tell you the truth.” Shrugging a shoulder, she’s back to watching his face, his grin. Her own doesn’t come then, though, because she doesn’t think much of folks like that.

[Hunter] He raises eyebrows to that comment, lips curling with incredulous amusement despite the fact that hers do not. It has been awhile since he heard a kin-folk talking about the others around her like that.

“They ain’t so bad, I mean not all of em’. Some good ones n’here for sure. I ain’t ever seen not a single orgy in here before if it makes ya’ feel better.”

[Sofie Janssen] “Really?” The look she gives him is complete disbelief. Not at the orgy comments, but at the not so bad part. Her look is wry, and her low chuckle matches it. “Please. The first time I walked in here, you remember that girl giving you and John the eye? I know you saw her. Pretty as a doe.”

This sort of talk needs beers involved.

“But I’m glad to hear about the orgies. Even if there was, at least I have a decent headset here.” Lifting the player for emphasis then tucking it into her sweatpants pocket with a chuckle. Sofie certainly does not seem to be the type like plenty of others. She hasn’t given out a single come hither vibe to anyone. Then again, don’t Fenrir go about it differently? Probably punch someone in the mouth before kissing them.

[Quinn] It’s early yet for the owner of The Winchester to be returning to The Brotherhood, but then she went in earlier than usual. And on a slow, cold winter night like tonight, they didn’t need so many people manning the tavern.

So Quinn bundled herself up against the cold, and she made the trek north to the place that, for now anyway, is home. She’s been around for a while, has already showered away the smell of the bar and changed into clean, dry clothes. Voices in the common room, faint enough to be acknowledged but not loud enough to be understood, draw her out at last.

The two out there hear a door open, and then there she is, dark hair twisted up into a clip, dressed in a t-shirt and black cotton lounge pants. They can see the trail of birds winding its way up her right forearm. Hunter may notice that her ears are bare.

She stops in the doorway leading into the common room with a, “Whoa hey.” Then she frowns, wears an expression that openly wonders if she’s intruding, especially when she catches orgies. She quirks a brow at Hunter, an unspoken question there.

[Amunet Trujillo] She doesn’t exactly stomp, but she’s no graceful thing either. A career as a ballerina is definitely not in her future. Coming down the hall from her room, she glances around the gathering area and scowls deeply as something is muttered just under her breath.

[John] John comes up the stairs not like an ogre or another mythical beast but like a soldier, his steps controlled and purposeful, boots clomping but not crashing against the wooden stairs as he ascends. Behind him, there is little din from the kitchen. His Rage is half its normal strength, hardly the overwhelming wall of anger and nerves that it tends to be. It doesn’t cause the senses to scream and the ironclad to shy away, though humans, the majority of them, still cannot tolerate him.

This is nothing new. He cannot even understand humans, let alone begin to know how to tolerate them.

It’s cold as hell outside, cold enough to kill, and when John arrives at the top of the stairs, he looks somewhat frozen. Compared to last night, he does not look as though he wishes he were dead; his lips still have a bluish tint to them, and his skin is pale as the moon overhead. There are blisters on his hands that he popped hours ago, draining into the bathroom sink at the warehouse while he scowled, leaving flattened patches that would likely grow infected if he were human.

He didn’t bandage them. Rinsing them off with whiskey is the only thing he could have done to possibly make his own self-inflicted first aid manlier, but he hadn’t wanted to waste alcohol.

So, when John appears, he looks cold. He is cold, but he isn’t here to warm up. He’s here because he finally had the chance to look at his text messages and realize what it is that Amunet was going on about last night. Hunter, at least, is aware that his packmate has arrived before he has to turn around and find him with his eyes. The Modi doesn’t acknowledge anyone out in the common room, save for a cursory flick of his eyes and a shrugging out of his jacket. He tosses it over the arm of the sofa, revealing his uniform of boots and jeans and a tame-colored thermal shirt, and keeps walking.

Whereupon he nearly runs right into Amunet.

He doesn’t stop, and he certainly doesn’t speak. He takes her by the upper arm, the expression on his face hidden from the congregated by his direction, and urges Amunet to walk with him back down the hall. His grip is so light it’s barely worth mentioning; but he is also far stronger than he looks, now, which ought to be a frightening prospect for most people.

[Hunter] A Fenrir would most definitely be more likely to punch someone in the mouth than kiss them, a fury too perhaps, another reason why their tribes are not as different as they claim to be. This Fenrir talks about a girl and Hunter narrows eyes, trying to recall a girl who had made eyes at him. Truth be told he had been intently focused on recruitment rather than relaxation, the girl had probably escaped his notice. Maybe she had, but he has seen her since and he knows with a sudden realisation that blooms on his face of which girl Sofie is talking about.

“Ooohh.. makin’ eyes at me?” He blinks, “Really? Don’t remember that.. I seem ta’ recall she was–”

He pauses, Sofie can see the slightest motion of his nostrils taking in a breath before his head turns and his eyes fall upon the Fiann in the doorway. Whoah she says, hey. An eyebrow is raised at Hunter in question but he isn’t looking at her eyes, they have found their way to her ear and its lack of jewellery. She might notice a difference with the Gnawer too, the way his shirt bunches on his body and the strength of an arm that curls up along the back of the couch in her direction.

“Quinn.” He says in a rumble and seems lost in thought for a moment before he continues. “Was just tellin’ Sofie bout’ tha’ serious lack’a orgies here.” A smile that reaches his eyes, something warm yet amused. Just then there is another girl behind Quinn, scowling and muttering.

Hunter isn’t watching her though.

“Have ya’ met?” He flicks eyes back to Sofie then to Quinn, questioning glance. He barely even looks at John though he knows what is occurring outside his line of sight. They have a totem phone now, he doesn’t have to say anything out loud.

[Amunet Trujillo] Her mouth opens, then closes again. Scowling just slightly, she allows herself to be propelled down the hall without as much as a grunt of protest.

This is not good….

[Sofie Janssen] Giving a glance over to Quinn and Amunet who’s came in behind the tall woman, Sofie watches them a second and takes in both their expressions before giving a quick look to Hunter. Her voice drops, but it’s certainly not a whisper. “One of those your girl?” Unable to help herself, her teeth flash in a sudden and rather fierce grin.

Suppressing her chuckle.

Then John comes in, dumps his jacket and walks out to take Amunet by the arm and off down the hall. “Oooo,” she whispers softly, then does make a snicker of a laugh under her breath. “Someone’s got to tell that guy we’re supposed to have better taste.” We being the Get of Fenris, of course.

Quinn gets a nod and an actual smile from Sofie, though it doesn’t make her expression soft by any means. Gentle and soft doesn’t mix with this Kinfolks features. Her eyes aren’t the sort that can get all bedroom nor pleasant either. “Hey,” she greets.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The Strider comes from the hallway, freshly dressed. her hair is wet and somewhat tangled, having just showered and gotten her still-healing wounds from the other night cleaned up. She’s wearing a black tank top and jeans, and generally seems to be in a good mood. Even if she is walking a bit gingerly. She heads down the hallway to the common room, pausing only briefly when she sees John and Amy heading in the opposite direction. She locks eyes with her half-sister, an unspoken message passing between them before she smiles and nods to John and continues on her way.

Once she makes it through the door into the common room, she looks around at those present and grins. “Hola, chicos and chicettes. What’s shakin’ like bacon?”

[John] Now, he hadn’t made a scene last night though there are plenty of other men, let alone Garou, who would not have taken kindly to being toyed with, whether it was merely his perception or whether there was anything rooted in reality to substantiate the notion, nor being walked away from. John, however, is not a hot-headed young buck who has something to prove. He does not attempt to intimidate or dominate every other male Garou he comes across, though with his height, his breeding and his presence he would likely be capable of it without much trouble. Beyond that, he actually seems like he has a decent sense of humor, takes very little that doesn’t require seriousness seriously, and actually has respect for someone other than himself.

It’s a rarity, given what has been blowing through Chicago in recent years, but given that he can’t talk, he doesn’t do a lot of blowing up of his own ego.

So, last night, John had just laughed at what had happened because he didn’t understand it and walked out. It wasn’t until after sobriety hit him like a bucket of water that it occurred to him that wires were crossed, perhaps. Lord knows what he was thinking.

Passing by Sarita, John looks somewhat amiable considering he’s pedaling her sister down the hallway towards their room. He gives her a lift of his eyebrows and a nod, the light in his eyes seeming to say Oh hey what’s up! as though they’re in a park in the middle of June on a sunny day and not the halls of a hostel.

They continue around the bend of the hall, and a moment later, a door opens and closes.

That’s when he lets her go.

[Quinn] She laughs when Hunter says he was telling Sofie about the lack of orgies here. The sound is low, more of a huff through her nostrils than anything so defined as a hah. “Hi, Amy…” is all she gets before Guy strongly insists the other kinswoman head back down the hall with him. She steps out of the doorway, fully into the common room.

“Is that a bad thing?” she asks, and heads for one of the chairs rather than the sofa.

“Quinn,” she gives as introduction.

[Hunter] Eyes follow the movements of Quinn intently and it wouldn’t be an illusion if she saw his jaw clench and his lips press together in a flat line when she drops herself down into one of the chairs. But he doesn’t say anything and although that eyebrow of his threatens to raise questioningly, it doesn’t.

Sofie has a question, a low murmur as this is all happening, not a whisper at all but not normal tones either. She wants to know if one of those girls is his and Hunter just straight up does not answer her.

“I dunno, depends on ya’ point’a view. Orgies in here though? Ain’t no place for them sorta’ games.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay, seriously. If I’m getting left out of orgies, I’m gonna start kicking some serious ass.” She grins and moves toward the couch. “S’bad enough that my sister gets laid more than I do, but I gotta at least have the opportunity to be competitive.”

She sits carefully down on the couch and sighs. “So we’re all exciting, being shut-ins on Friday night, huh?”

[Sofie Janssen] “Well met, Quinn.” Sofie doesn’t move from where she’s sitting in the corner, back to the arm of the couch and knees pressed together, resting against the back of it. The t.shirt she wears is a simple navy blue and it’s loose enough to sleep in. Her sweatpants are a lighter shade of gray. Bare feet are tucked in with toes curled between the cushions, separating herself and Hunter.

Looking back and forth between the two, and then to the woman that enters calling them names of another language and talking about shaking bacon, Sofie decidedly stays out of any further talk about orgies and sex, especially with the more explicit talk about being laid. There are some lines she doesn’t cross, though these aren’t clear cut.

[Asha Singh] Someone is coming up the stairs. Two someones, actually. There is the sound of some – crazy foreign tongue, that sounds functionally like nothing anyone in the room has every heard before. Like a spider-scrawl of a tongue, seventeen accents and an extra umlaut per vowel that you cannot even tell from the consonants.

One of two people is stomping.
The smaller one of the two.
Actually.

[Quinn] “Nice to meet you, too, Sofie,” she replies with a polite incline of her head. Quinn draws herself up into the chair, wraps an arm around upraised knees, curls a hand around an ankle. She’s friendly, open, not exactly gregarious, but she tries not to leave people out.

“Ah hah, yeah, if any orgies break out spontaneously, Sarita, you can have at it. I’ll be the stick making a beeline for the door.”

Someone is stomping up the stairs. The Fianna kinswoman lets go of her legs, lets her knees drop down so that one presses into the arm of the chair, and she twists to get a look at the stairway. Before anyone appears, though, she looks back at the gathered, casting about a confused Do you know what that’s about? kind of look.

[Asha Singh] And soon enough: a girl emerges. Dark-skinned, slight, with coils of crisp black hair falling in elegant, shampoo-ad worthy waves around her exotic features. She’s wearing a strapless gown of bronze sequins that falls perhaps four inches above her knee, and a single gold bracelet liquid around her wrist. Her feet are bare.

She is carrying a doughnut.
It has sprinkles.

In her other hand, a plastic sandwich bag, the kind that ziplocks closed, smeared with a gelatinous red. It could be cherry pie filling oozing out of a deep-fried crust. It could be an ear.

God only knows.

Behind her a tall, well-dressed man in a tailored suit, crisp lines, black and white. A cravat, subtle diamond cufflinks through the cuffs of his monogrammed white shirt. He has a stick.

At the top of the stairs, she takes a survey of the people in the room, checking them off against some mental list. She pauses when she sees Hunter, waves, rather peppily, and turns to the tall, dignified gentleman with gray curling at his blond temples. Says, leaning as if she were whispering, for all that she is perfectly audible to all. “He’s one of the ones I need a proper introduction to!”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs a little to Quinn’s unspoken question. She seems intensely curious as to who it might be herself, and she glances to the stairwell before she looks back to the kinfolk.

“No clue, but we may wanna call an exorcist. And suggest that they put split pea soup on the menu for tomorrow.”

When Asha and her companion arrive, she looks back, examining the two. Each of the participants in the room are summarily dismissed by the newcomers, except Hunter. That brings a cock of the eyebrow, and Sarita leans back a bit to watch with a grin that can only be described as Cheshire-like. And possibly worrisome.

[Hunter] “Yo’ Sarita.” He throws it out casually with a nod of his head.

Stomping is heard, voices, or what are presumed to be voices. The only thing that marks them as such is the phonetics that vaguely resemble some unknown language and the audibility of it all. His eyes drift past Sofie, past Quinn to the stairs and he actually steps up off the couch to wander over to that exit almost protectively of the kinfolk.

He doesn’t get very far though and he stops before she even emerges. Ancestry strikes him like a blow to the head and causes his lip to curl but it relaxes a moment later into a smile for the woman when she makes her way into the room. There is someone at her side, someone Hunter has never seen before and he looks the man over.

He’s one of the ones I need a proper introduction to!

One brow lowers, the other rises and his lips quirk at the corners, he crosses his arms over his chest. This is unusual. He waits to see how it all plays out.

[Sofie Janssen] There’s little talk that follows the new arrivals into the common room, where Sofie had been listening to her player not but ten minutes ago, alone. Now coming up the stairs is someone speaking gibberish to someone else equally qualified in the language, and moments later Hunter is up to go and see what it’s all about after Quinn’s partially worried glance and Sarita’s quip.

Sofie merely glances over and watches the woman enter along with the man, both of which are dressed in a set of clothes that costs more than her whole closet stuffed in her closet. Its this she notices more than anything else, and the way the woman speaks to the man. Brows raise. Eyes stare.

And her mouth quirks at Hunters stance.

[Asha Singh] “His name’s Hunter,” Asha tells Thomas. The kinsman – whose blood is rather less fine than his rather young mistress’ own – has a certain dignity of purpose about him that makes up for what he lacks in raw breeding. He inclines his well-groomed head to listen as Asha “whispers” to him. “Burnout.” And gives her a smile of approval when she manages to refrain from informing Thomas that Hunter Burnout is very common.

Good girl!

The gruesome little package in her hand is sealed firmly, dark against the striking brilliance of her dress, which sends dancing motes of light all across the floor around her as she moves. “Yes ma’am,” Thomas says, pronounce it mum in his oh-so-posh British way. Then he smiles, magnanimous, toward Hunter.

And raps his stick, once, against the wooden floor. (Asha loves this part, so much.) As if everyone in hte room were not already staring at her. “Mr. Hunter Burnout, sir. I believe you have been casually introduced before. However, do allow me to make an informal introduction.

“I have the deep, abiding, personal pleasure of introducing you to Her Eminent Highness Arundhati Sunyana Elevarisi Asha Priyamvada Natajaran Singh.

“Daughter of Alexander Harrison, Vision of the Fall, Scion of House Wyrmfoe.

‘”Great grand-daughter of Sri Padmanabha Dasa Vanchi Pala Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma Dharma Raja Kulasekhara Natajaran Singh, Svatantrya to the Nation, of the Sept of the Broken Sky.

“Descendent of the Maharahajadhiraja Bahadur, Great Prince of Princes, Elder Philodox of the Silver Fangs, House Blood Red Crest.”

All this for a “Cliath Ahroun, House Blood Red Crest, kalaratri to the Nation. Which means both night of death, and death of night, in your own human tongue.” Asha beams at Thomas, all approving. Apparently, that’s all she wanted.

Flashes a glance at Hunter. “Hi!” And takes a bite of her doughnut, the ear swinging casually from her hand, blood contained, but dripping against the sides of the bag. Then, she glances back at Thomas. “I’ve been thinking about moving in here.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her mouth drops open. There’s no other reaction that is remotely attainable for the Strider than a jaw-dropped, googly-eyed stare at the pomp and circumstance of the whole thing. It’s not pure shock, though…the corners of her mouth are upward turned. Her eyes are both disbelieving and glittering with mirth. Either her usual grin has been sublimated by the stunning introduction, or the whole sequence that just unfolded is so funny to her that the wires in her head have crossed and she can’t quite express it.

It takes several moments before her voice finds her again. “Holy fucking hell, I gotta stop doing drugs. Or at least the ones that cause flashbacks. Because I swear, it looks JUST like that actually, seriously happened.”

[Sofie Janssen] The Kinswoman looks like she’s swallowed a fly. Her features do this weird contorted sort of thing, where she’s really trying to stop her eyes from bugging out their sockets, while trying to keep her tongue from flapping and all the while trying not to do what she really wanted to do and bust out laughing. She is going to give herself a hernia with the effort, to be sure.

She can’t be serious. He can’t be serious. Sofie looks between them, and sure enough, they are.

Leaping off the couch, like her pants are on fire, Sofie pads barefoot around the back of the couch and takes a direct path towards and through the hallway door. The moment she’s out of sight, she’s jogging down the end of the hall, biting the heel of her hand as snorting starts to come out her nose.

[Quinn] There is no worry, no concern drawn into the kinswoman of Stag’s face, merely confusion. She doesn’t recognize the language, not even enough to say that it’s one or another. And she doesn’t recognize the young woman who steps into the common room with an escort, though she does recognize what she is.

Hunter rising is noted, drawing her attention pointedly away from the girl in the pretty dress that’s probably worth more than her bar. Blue eyes travel over the Ahroun, lingering a touch longer than necessary before shifting back over to the girl and her announcer.

An intro begins. Quinn turns in her seat to watch. Though she knows she and the other females in the common room have been dismissed with just a glance, she is patient and respectful and not at all wishing to get up and walk out of the room to read or break into a bottle of bourbon.

Her eyes, though, are starting to glaze by the end of it. These aren’t names she needs to know, and yet the kinswoman will remember them, the ones she hears anyway, the ones she pays attention to.

Asha’s looking to move in here, well fantastic. “I must’ve inadvertently shared whatever you had,” she quips to Sarita, unfolding herself from the chair and rising. “I think we’re having the same hallucination. I think I’m going to go walk it off.” And the third kinswoman of the evening makes her exit. This one reappears a few minutes later, bundled up for the winter cold despite the hour and the neighborhood and all of it. She bypasses the Fangs, heads down the stairs, and disappears into the night like a goddamn ninja.

[sorry guys, it’s 2am and I can’t handle life @_@ thanks for the play!]

[Lukas] The thing about Asha’s introductions is — even if you’re, say, in your room, kicking back in your bed, reading a book or writing a letter or something — you still have plenty of time to get up and get over before it’s finished.

So by the time Thomas is done, Lukas is leaning against the doorway that leads out to the halls and the rooms. His arms are folded across his chest. Or well. They are, until he raises one hand — very gradeschool — and asks in apparently utter seriousness:

“I’m sorry, your Eminent Highness, but I’ve forgotten my table of genealogies. Could you remind me of the full ancestry of His Royal Majesty Maharahajadhiraja Bahadur?”

[Simon Zahradnik] Have you ever stabbed your own mother in the back with a rusty knife again and again while listening to her scream I love you so much why are you doing this to me?!? all the while twisting the knife around and laughing? Well neither has Simon and yet why does he feel dirty. Like the kind of dirty that doesn’t wash off? The kind of dirty that clings to the soul and cannot be erased. Simon has always done what was necessary… He has always stood ready to put his duties and responsibilities before himself. Yet the stench of betrayal hung heavily around him. Rage coursed through him and yet it was an entirely unsettling kind of rage. A kind of bitter self hatred that he still couldn’t seem to chase away.

He could still taste the chill of frost upon his tongue. The kiss of freedom… Of boundless, limitless power wanting to be unleashed only to watch it whimper and fade as the Garou turn their backs upon the very forces that feed their inner rage. Their boundless destructive potential, the churning belly of the mother who gave them life… Her skies, her seas, her beautiful mountains.

Funny… Simon has never been a part of such an impressive victory and yet was left feeling like it was a complete failure. In the end though this was the kind of thing that hardens the heart and helps awaken the Shadow Lord to the true nature of the world right? He was learning that sometimes you had to destroy hope cause… Your elder doesn’t like it? What the fuck does that even fucking mean!?!.

“Before you can truly understand what you are fighting for you must stab it in the face Simon! That will teach you the value of… Something something…”He mutters as he swings the door open and makes his way upstairs.

He needed something to calm himself, so why in the fuck did he come here?

Eyes scanned the area. Looking about the Common area. Pool… Pool will help. Right? The darkly clad Ahroun made his way towards the tables. Who in the hell knows what he needed. He should be out smashing something evil’s face in that’s what he fuckin’ should be doing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over when Lukas is suddenly there, and he asks Asha to go through this full ancestry. Her eyes widen to silver dollars, and she looks back. She looks back at Asha and Thomas, smiling like a little kid on Christmas day. It’s not often she looks this giddy, ’cause it’s not often she gets to be this amused.

…no. No, she’s not normal.

[Hunter] A commoner takes part in something he has never before been subjected to in all his years under Luna’s smiling face. If there are words to describe the thoughts that run through Hunter’s heads in this moment then they escape this writer like sand through a sieve. Outwardly he smiles at first when it all begins, this ageing gentleman speaks like it is an honour for Hunter Matthews to receive this special attention and effort from the undoubtedly royal Ahroun at his shoulder.

But it all begins to fall apart because let’s face it, Hunter is no member of the court, he is no Prince of Persia or even the stable boy of such a man. He is a Jackal, a Gnawer of Bones both proud and yet without the restraints of believing that pride is worth anything. His arms go slightly slack, one falls to his side before the other and he stands there lop sided with a hand tucked to his ribs and his mouth slightly open in shock.

It doesn’t end, it really never ends. He wants to scream out HELP HELP IM BEING OPPRESSED , but he really doesn’t have the energy or the cognitive ability to form words right now. She is the daughter of some Indian dude with a name consisting of more letters than the alphabet and all Hunter got out of it was that somehow this is meant to mean something, that this doesn’t happen for everyone.. surely.. she surely doesn’t do this to every person she meets. His eyebrows raise in alarm and confusion How does she get anything done??

About halfway through it he stops looking at the man and starts studying the female at his side, she preens and beams and smiles like this is exactly how things should be all the time. No Asha, this is not how things should be all the time. The look is written all over Hunter’s face and he barely gets a chance to react before all the kinfolk in the joint go running for the hills, hiding faces and bellowing out their sudden disarray at this assault on their senses.

“I..” He stumbles and then Lukas is there, goading her on. The look Hunter flashes him is not one of kindness at all, it is a look a bro might give another bro when he just set him up with a particularly disgusting blind date in order to score the hottie. Hunter growls and his lip curls but his eyes go back to Thomas.

His face says one thing to Thomas, I swear ta’ god if ya’ keep talkin’ imma’ rip ya’ god damn throat out. But somehow it is without simple anger, more frustration and amusement and a totally dominating sense of pleading. He begs, don’t do it!

[Asha Singh] Asha snorts, part-way through her bite of the doughnut. Which is sugar: with sprinkles in multicolors scattered over lavender icing. Then she chews, with a sort of prim precision, like she were listening to some childhood governess in her ear telling her that it’s not polite to slip treefrogs into the folds of your obnoxious sister’s sari before she’s meant to go meet the the eligible young men of whatever is the latest Sept to which she has been paraded for the purpose of Catching a Man’s Eye and Making New Babies for a Dying House while she sits there trying to figure out how to produce more fucking tree frogs now that all the cliath Ahrouns in the Sept slew the ones she had with their stupid little swords (which: mind, were not nearly as cool or bejeweled as her own pata.)

“-rhya” says Asha, with that bored emphasis on the word. “I only wanted an informal introduction. Why, Thomas has his stuck, but he doesn’t have his sword OR his hat.” Neither of which Lukas himself has ever seen. “Anyway, it takes like three days and nights to recite so it’s not very practical, is it? If you want, though,” conceding, at last, something to Lukas’ greater rank. “I can have Thomas write it down for you so you won’t forget. Or he can come by, uhm, if it’s three hours every evening, it will take one turn of the lunar cycle, so maybe 8 p.m. tomorrow?”

Then she wiggles the bag at Lukas.

“Has you see the other one of these? I had a matched set.”

“Maybe you left it in the car, ma’am,” Thomas suggests. Steers, giving Lukas as much of the eye as he dares. “Shall we go have a look?”

“Oh, bother,” declares Asha. “I did not. I suppose I’ll have to get another one.”

AND before you know it, our heroine and her entourage are trooping back down the stairs!

[Sofie Janssen] Down the hall, room seven has busted its door open and partially shut, and a Kinfolk has barely made it to the bed when she’s howling out laughter, with sinuses burning from the previous, snorting effort. She knows don’t laugh. Don’t laugh in front of Garou, which is why she had tailed it out of there the moment she felt it coming on. It’s that bewildered laugh that has turned into something hilarious because of the effort of being suppressed. At least she has mind to roll and bury her face into her pillow to muffle anymore and tries hard to get it under control, while practically crying.

What the fuck was that!

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches the whole thing with a look of amazement. This is the most surreal thing that’s probably ever happened to her, and considering that her half-sister likes to pretend she’s a Garou from time to time, plus other random misadventures, that says a lot. She blinks when they bloody ear is waved about, and she looks around the room, as if asking them if they’re seriously seeing the same thing. Then she looks back.

And then, like they were never there, except for the dumbfounded faces, Asha is headed back down the stairs. Sarita is speechless for a couple of moments until finally she nods.

“Yeah. Totally gotta stop doing the flashback drugs.”

[Lukas] “I — ”

before Lukas can tell her that no, no, it was quite all right, he doesn’t need the full introduction, and no, he hasn’t seen the other severed ear she left lying around someplace, Asha is turning and trooping out again.

“If you want to move in,” he calls after her, “I think the only room left is nine!”

Also, following her in mind if not in body: Weren’t you Her Exalted Highness before? Did you get demoted?

[Asha Singh] Stupid Anchal had a baby. Asha grumbles back in his mind. Maybe she has been demoted. It looks like a wizened monkey’s shriveled head.

Then, moments later when he can feel them wandering through the kitchens.

Hey! Do they have a blender down here!

[Hunter] After that storm of names that mean nothing to the Gnawer it is in a flash that her Highness leaves the building. She talks about swords and hats and ears and all sorts of other things before stomping off back down the stairs with her entourage.

Hunter is left with a foul taste in his mouth and a headache.

“What tha’ fucks’a Pad man asa Dasi fuckin’ Vanny Vichi anyway?” He shouts rather belated and confused like.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Hunter’s exclamation causes a spout of laughter from the Ragabash. “Wait wait…I know this.” She pauses, as if to think. “Vinny Vichi V.D.. I came, I saw, I got gonorrhea.”

[Sofie Janssen] After collecting herself and wiping tears from her eyes, Sofie flings her legs off the beds and sits up. She breathes out and double checks she’s got herself under control before she gets up and leaves the darkened room, thankful she hasn’t even seen signs of her supposed roommate.

In the bathroom she takes a moment to splash cool water on her face to help get rid of the flush on her skin, and wonders where it is John and Amunet had ran off too. At first she’s thankful she couldn’t hear anything down the hallway, until she reminds herself, with a snicker, that John’s a mute. The imagery after that is best left unsaid and even makes herself shake her head and stare at herself in the mirror.

“This weather is driving you crazy,” she tells her reflection in a low voice, cautioning.

[Lukas] Over in the doorway, Lukas’s eyebrow flicks up. He shifts his weight, straightening. Rage pushes ahead of him like a storm front as he comes across the room to drop down on the couch — his usual place facing the TV.

“Asha is one of the last scions of a dying House,” he says mildly. “Rather than hiding in her ancestors’ palaces counting kin and waiting to go mad, she’s chosen to dedicate her life and honor to a war she knows her House won’t live to win. For this, her House considers her a deserter. And because of her perceived shame, she’s sacrificed every ounce of renown she’s earned to her tribe’s totem for the last year. She’d be most of the way to a Fostern by now if she hadn’t.”

A beat of pause.

“Laugh at her ways to her face if you want. She’s not so proud that she’ll mind. But don’t mock her when her back is turned.”

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon watches Lukas, and listens to his defense of his packmate. Simon isn’t about to say anything… Lukas has the majority of the Silverfang tribe under his boot. That means the Shadow Lords run the show in this Town. But he gets so defensive when you say anything about his pet Fangs! Simon’s learned the best thing to do is keep your mouth shut. Besides Asha was pretty goddamn nice to look at and Simon… Well Simon is shallow as hell!

“Honestly the Romans were pretty damn clean by comparison to some soldiers… I mean sure they caught their share of diseases off the locals but that’s what happens when you let soldiers do whatever they want to the locals as a reward.”Simon finally says as he lifts a pool Cue and begins to examine it.

“Hey… Anyone know anything about history?”He asks as he wanders over to the table and begins collecting balls.

[Hunter] Simon is ranting in the corner by the pool table and it bashes on his senses, his eyes are for Lukas though.

“Couldn’t fuckin’ laugh even if I wanted to, she do that often?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s still grinning a little, her mood not dampened by Lukas’s shift in conversation to a much more serious tone. She dials back a bit, just as a natural reaction, and looks Lukas over. The man is of course her superior, and she respects that. But she’s not not the kowtowing, tail-between-the-legs type, especially when she doesn’t think she did anything wrong.

“Couple things, with all due respect. A, I wasn’t sayin’ anything that I wouldn’t say to her face. B, I ain’t judging her, ’cause I don’t know her. I don’t make fun of people until they know my name.” Admittedly, the fact that she may have well not existed in the room to Lukas’ packmate irked her, and a bit of that shows on her face, but it doesn’t factor into the situation.

“And C, I wasn’t mockin’ her. I was mocking Hunter for his mispronunciation of the names.”

She grins, sitting back. “But your point is noted.”

[Lukas] “No,” Lukas puts his bare feet up on the coffee table. Wry, “I think she was actually honoring you with a proper introduction, since I gave you two an improper one the other day.”

He yawns, then — a big, jawcracking ho-hum, as though his late night was finally winding to a close. With both hands he scrubs his face, then directs his glance over to Sarita. “You ever manage to track Gina down?”

[Hunter] Thoughtful, far too thoughtful for an Ahroun but he is a Gnawer after all. He is still standing there, now with his back to the stairs though both his arms have managed to fall back to a reasonably comfortable state.

“Fought tha’ fuckin’ Naugh wit’ her, she crushed it like’a champ.”

A ponderous pause, he licks over a canine then closes his mouth like he has come to a decision about the whole matter before he speaks again.

“Ta’ each their own ye’? I’mma grab somethin’ ta’ drink, any takers?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over at Simon when he asks about history. “I got a high school education in it…that’s about all, though. Why?”

Lukas then grabs her attention, and she looks over at him. She leans back, wincing just slightly, and nods. “Yeah, couple days after. I’ve been working on her…it’s slow going. Pretty understandably considering her history, she’s not too trustful of her own.” A shadow passes over her face then. Sarita is not serious too terribly often. You don’t earn the Deed Name ‘Echos of Laughter’ unless you know when to laugh at life. But something there is distinctly unpleasant as she mentions Gina’s history. And one might pity those others of her tribe that have contributed to that history if Sarita ever found them, if one pitied those who earned their spots in hell.

The shadow is gone quickly though, and she smiles again. “But it’s going well, all things considered. Long as I don’t get shot in the face by her at any point, I should be fine.”

[Sofie Janssen] “Yeah, I’m coming,” says Sofie as she appears around the corner, having come down the hall from the bathroom with impeccable timing. She’s glad to see Asha is gone and that there’s none of that lingering around, because she’s not sure how she’d handle it. At least she’s composed now. Right back to normal.

She makes a bee line for the stairs to head down.

[Simon Zahradnik] He smiles back to Sarita.”I was just wondering if anyone knew how that whole Nazi thing ended. I mean… Of course they lost blah blah but what happened with the rest of them? You know all the soldiers who were all like… “We were just following orders!” how’d that turn out for them in the end exactly?”He asks with a hint of a smile finally taking shape on his face as he lines up his first shot.

He waits, gives anyone who wants to a chance to answer.

[Lukas] A ghost of pride over Lukas’s face. “Yeah,” he says, “she’s a lot deadlier than she looks.”

A nod then – to each his own. Hunter and Sofie head down for a drink; Lukas turns his attention back to Sarita. “I don’t know exactly what went down with her,” he says, “and it’s not my business. But she’s not the same woman that came to town a year and a half ago. It’s good that she’s got someone to keep an eye out for her now, even if it’s just temporary.

“If you need a hand getting even, let me know.”

Simon’s question makes Lukas quirk an eyebrow. “Strange thing to ask,” he comments. “What’s really on your mind, Bone Grinder?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Ooh, ooh. I know this.” She does, actually. She loves pissing off skinheads, and pointing out that you know more of their history than they do is a great way to do it. Especially when you’re darker-skinned.

“Three got acquitted. The rest got ten years to death. And one of them was found guilty of asking a rhetorical question. Don’t remember his penalty, though.”

She looks to Hunter. “Rain check. Totally wanna go drinking with you some day. But on a day when i can get into a bar fight and not have a couple strikes against me.”

[Hunter] She is a lot deadlier than she looks, Hunter learnt that when he was hanging from the fist of a giant and she near cut it in half with one bite. It gave him the slightest window of opportunity and that’s all it takes. He rumbles a confirmation and agreement of Lukas’ words then starts heading towards the stairs though he is looking over his shoulder at Sarita as he does so.

“Ya’ sure thing, Joey’ll come lookin’ for ya’. Night boss.” He lazily salutes the Shadow Lord without bringing his hand anywhere near his forehead and then disappears into the stairwell.

[Simon Zahradnik] He smiles at Sarita and nods his head.”You and I gotta go out to the Hangar to test your your skills one of these nights soon lady.”He says with a little smile and a nod of his head before taking his shot.

His attention then turns to Lukas.”I am just curious when a man is supposed to know if an order is something he is supposed to carry out and when he is supposed to know to stick his middle finger up and say fuck you ya know?”He asks curiously.”I mean… We don’t challenge our elders in the heat of a battle. I would kill someone for putting peoples lives on the line cause they don’t feel like listening to me. But when is an order the wrong order to follow?”He asks, maybe Lukas knew. He’d been around the block a few times.

[Lukas] For whatever reason, this line of conversation seems to strike a chord in Lukas. The interest is immediate and apparent – flickering through his eyes like a shadow. His eyebrows draw together. He sits up, putting his feet flat on the floor.

“When you feel it in your bones,” he replies. “When you know you shouldn’t follow because the cost of blind obedience is higher than the cost of honorable disobedience — not to yourself, but to everyone around you. That’s when you stop following orders. But the Litany is still the Litany. And if a wolf didn’t catch his leader’s weakness before battle began, then I say he deserves to be punished for rebelling even if his rebellion was just.”

A pause. Then he asks again, quieter, “Why? This can’t be just idle speculation. What happened?”

[Simon Zahradnik] He smiles a little and shrugs his shoulders.”The Snow has ceased falling… The ice no longer collecting on our rooftops. No longer keeping people from wasting their hard earned cash on useless goods. We’ve opened the way for commerce to continue and for parents to buy their kids junk food to get fat… Everyone can go back to their lives because the threat has passed.”He shrugs his shoulders.”And yet you don’t get to come back from that…”

“The storm is a gift… It brings destruction, and renewal. Standing in the way of that…”He trails off and looks down at the table for a second.

He shrugs his shoulders.”Would you stand before Thunder Himself and demand he stand down if it was he who decided our city must be wiped off this earth? Would you fight nature itself in the name of this scab whose very existence is an insult to our creator?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks at Simon, talking in metaphors and then generalities and then like he’s composing the Charge of the Thunder Brigade or some shit. It is plain on Sarita’s face that while she gets what Simon is saying, she is completely lost on the path of conversations…like, walked into the La Brea Tar Pits behind the Bates Motel levels of lost.

“Okay…did I forget to eavesdrop on a meeting and did the Incarna decide the city needs to be wiped out? Just checking…I need to make sure I got gas in the tank and enough Twinkies to last Amy and I a few days.”

[Lukas] Lukas’s eyebrow flicks up. He thinks for a moment, eyes flicking briefly to Sarita. Her comment makes the edge of his mouth tug upward for a moment, but then he’s serious again, looking at Simon.

“Yeah,” he says, “I would. Because Thunder and Gaia put me on this earth to protect it. To fix it. To fight in it, and for it. So if something that looked like Thunder or Gaia showed up and told me to stand aside because he was going to level this city, this city that I know has worth, whose worth I’ve seen, then I’m going to question who the fuck that actually is and what their true motives are.

“On the night of the eclipse, Simon, I met a spirit that called itself the embodiment of Gaia, and she was powerful. And good. And she gave me a gift that I didn’t think I could get, and I am thankful to her. But was she Gaia? I don’t know. I don’t … think so. Not really.

“Not too long before that, you and I stood before spirits that called themselves the archangels of the Judeochristian god. And they were powerful. And maybe not so very good. But were they truly angels? No. Probably not.

“My point is this, Simon. When you stand before the Earth-Mother and the Sky-God, I believe there will be no doubt in your heart, none, that you stand before your creator. The fact that you even have to ask this question tells me you doubt. And that tells me you already know whether or not you should listen if whatever you met told you to stand aside.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She listens to Lukas talk. Her head tilts to the right, watching him and taking in the words. She smiles a little…not her usual snarky grin, just a standard sort of amicable smile. She’s not huge with the spirits, herself. Being on the road for years, either alone or just with a kinfolk, means that you don’t get to spend a lot of time with Theurges, and Sarita didn’t have the greatest grounding in Umbral knowledge herself. But it’s always nice to hear perspective.

“And knowing is half the battle,” she says when he’s done. Somehow, it sounds more like a compliment than a joke.

[Simon Zahradnik] He glances at Sarita and shakes his head.”It’s not that complicated… Bad.”He says with a smirk. Had Thunder, or Twister come to this city to destroy it Simon would not stand in its way.

He then listens to Lukas, and once more he hears Adamidas… A different face, and yet he heard Adamidas no less. He drew in a slow and deep breath.”So then we’re all heroes then… We saved the day and we protected the innocent denizens of Chicago against the wrath of nature. Go team…”He trails off. These were not the kinds of answers he had hoped to hear.

He lowered himself to take another shot before sighing to himself and standing up tall.”I should excuse myself Rhya.”He says before offering a bow to Lukas and then Sarita and settling the pool cue on the table before him.

[Lukas] “That’s not quite what I said,” Lukas says — not quite willing to let Simon leave on that note. “What I’m saying to you is: I don’t think it was even ‘Nature’ you faced but the Wyrm by some other name. Even if the spirit itself did not realize it, to call for the blind genocide of millions of souls, every human in the city, is an act of mindless destruction. And what is the Wyrm, if not mindless destruction?

“Simon, I think it’s easy to hate humanity, seeing the havoc they can wreak, seeing how lazy and weak they have become. But if we were not part human, you would not have the drive or the ingenuity we need to win this war. An animal would gnaw its leg off to escape a trap. But a human would dismantle the trap. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking humans are worthless and evil. That’ll open you to precisely the sort of temptation you faced from … whatever it was that masqueraded as the storm.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Some people might expect Sarita to be bored by the conversation. After all, she’s known more for spouting off pop culture references and the seventy-five different variations of her grin than getting involved in deep, overreaching conversations about the nature of the War and the philosophy of evil. The truth of the matter though, as one who looks closely enough to her expression as she listens to the Shadow Lords debate, is that she finds the conversation deeply intriguing. Not only does it give her different perspectives on the deeper questions that the Nation faces, but it gives her a lot of perspective on the two children of Thunder in front of her. And that is information that Sarita finds far more valuable than any game of banter or “So how do you like the city so far” conversations.

So instead of popping in with a witty quip, she stays quiet for the moment, listening and learning. Her attention shifts to Simon, watching him closely for his words and/or reaction.

[Simon Zahradnik] “It’s not about hating humanity… It’s about shattering their misconceptions. I bound to twister because I understood why Twister destroys. I understood that Twister shattered the safety and the silence… He brings destruction. But in the wake of his destruction he leavers a shattered world torn to pieces. A world where people had given up and lost hope…”He shrugs his shoulders.

“Don’t you see? Twister takes… But in the process Twister renews hope. He takes from those who have nothing to fear and he teaches them not to give up and not to become complacent and to always push and struggle. The destruction Twister asks us to bring is not blind. It is beautiful… It reawakens the dying soul and instills hope. It refreshes and invigorates…”

“Twister isn’t about hurting people… Twister is about teaching people to live every moment to its fullest because any second it could be snatched away from you.”

“That is what I saw and that is what I felt… It wasn’t a Wyrm Creature… It was a force of the Wyld. It did not hold malice or contempt in its heart. It only wished to do what it does. What it brought was a gift, for in the wake of the Wyld’s destruction there is new life, there are tears but there is new hope. The weaver doesn’t offer hope… It doesn’t offer anything but an empty soulless meaningless existence. Nobody deserves that fate.”

“I’m not some bloody mindless vengeful asshole… Twister chose me because I understand and feel this. In the wake of destruction… New life arises. These buildings were not intended to last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

[Lukas] Now it’s Lukas’s turn to listen, and if Simon looks between them, he’ll see a startlingly similar expression on the Shadow Lord’s face and the Strider’s. Interested. Intrigued.

Perhaps it’s ironic that of all the wolves in this city, the ones having this debate — discussion — whatever it is, are Shadow Lords. Are Ahrouns at that, often accused of being blunt instruments. Blind weapons, rising fast and dying young, brutal and mindless tools for smarter garou to direct.

Simon rebels verbally, explicitly against this. I’m not some bloody mindless vengeful asshole, he says, as though aware — painfully so — that that’s sometimes his exact reputation. There’s a look that skates across Lukas’s face then, part wryness and part empathy, gone almost too quick to catch. Nothing lasts forever, he finishes, and Lukas nods.

“I can agree with that,” he says. “All of it. I don’t … follow that creed myself, life out of destruction, but I see its worth. But why the doubt, then? You sound so sure of what you’ve just told me. Why the questions of right and wrong, when to follow and when to rebel?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And her attention shifts back to Simon. Sarita has her own input that she could offer here, her own opinion. But it is her decision to hold back. Her contribution would probably derail things a bit, and she’s intensely curious to see how this plays out.

So she remains quiet, looking to Bone-Grinder, to see what his volley back consists of.

[John] Without warning the trio in the common room, minding their own business, in the midst of a conversation, become aware of a muffled thump as what sounds like something bigger than a breadbox is pushed–not slammed–against a door on the other side of the wall.

[Simon Zahradnik] He was a little surprised that Lukas did take the time to listen. It’s not like full Moons to do that. He ponders the question himself and shrugs his shoulders.”I followed my orders… And yet I am left feeling as if I should have gone the other way. The Weaver won and what do we get to show for it? Nothing… The weaver will hunt us and give it a reason and its minions will actively destroy us without hesitation. We are its enemy…”He shrugs.”The Wyld is not our enemy and it is weak… It is our hopes and dreams, and the fuel that makes life possible. It doesn’t hate… And next to Gaia it is one of the only pure things left in this world. It might not be our friend and it might never learn to appreciate anything we do for it. But in the end strengthening it weakens the hold of our enemies on the world…”

“People are going to die in our war one way or another… People are going to die. But without the Wyld… No one will truly get to live. With out the Wyld there is only stagnation and death.”

“The Weaver won because we took it’s side. Now we go back to our lives as if nothing happened… Whatever that thing brought to our city for good or ill it brought change. Nothing more, nothing less. We helped the weaver and the weaver destroyed it without mercy. Whatever potential was there… Is no more.”

“I followed my orders and yet… I feel responsible for destroying what could have been. I feel I intervened in a step that could have helped crush weaver and wyrm and open this city up to us and ours.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her head jerks up at that sound, and her eyes narrow. She looks to the wall…she knows what room that is. Her jaw clenches and she shakes her head, before doing a literal facepalm.

“Fucking A, bitch,” she mutters. It’s not a pleased sound. She rises and looks to the two. “Excuse me for just…uno momento, por favor.” She slowly, carefully walks back into the hallway, with a purpose.

[Lukas] The thump doesn’t even make Lukas look up. He’s lived here a long time; is used to odd noises and occurrences at all hours. He does, however, glance briefly at Sarita as she gets up — offering her a half-smile as she goes.

“We should talk sometime,” he says.

Then, leaning his elbows on his knees, he presses his palms together for a moment, thoughtful. When he looks at Simon again he says, “I think first and foremost you need to figure out what it is you’re feeling guilty about. If you’re feeling guilty because you feel you did the right thing but at a terrible cost — well, sometimes that’s how this war is. You’ll learn that again and again as you gain rank, and believe me,” there’s a raw note here, like a recent wound scraped up again, “every single lesson is a cruel one. We give so much for so little gain, but in the end, it’s worth it. It has to be.

“For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing, because even if you let the Weaver destroy a Wyld creature, you probably saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives. The Wyldling might have had the best intentions, but you know what they say about the road to hell. It might have wanted to break the denizens of the city from the grasp of the Weaver, but that storm hurt far more than it helped. Maybe it’s because of our idealistic differences, but … I say destruction in the name of good ends where innocent lives are lost. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t have hesitated to stop the Wyldling however I could.

“That said … maybe there was another way. However I could doesn’t imply letting it die. Perhaps there was a way to stop it that didn’t involve destroying it, a way that your war-party overlooked. And if you do feel guilty because you did the right thing but paid too high a price, then you need to take that lesson and learn from it. You need to learn how to avoid that price in the future. How to do better, not do differently.”

There’s a small pause. Then — and this is ironically gentler:

“But if you feel bad right now because you feel like you did the wrong thing, and you did it simply because you followed orders … well. Then you have a tougher question in front of you. You’ll have to weigh whether or not you should have done differently. Whether you should have disobeyed orders in a battle, broken the Litany, and suffered every consequence you reaped, all in the name of your principles. You’ll have to take yourself and your own self-interests out of the equation entirely and weigh whether or not that course of action would have resulted in greater devastation to your allies and to innocents or not. And ultimately, you’ll have to ask yourself, too, if you backed down from that because you decided the cost was too high — or because of cowardice.”

Another short pause. Then — because this is difficult to say — “Simon, I hope to god there’s never a battle when I lead in such a way that compels you to act against me for the sake of doing what you believe is right — because if you rebelled mid-battle, I will not hesitate. I will cut you down.

“At the same time, we can never know whether our course of action is truly right or not. We can only follow our conscience and our deepest principles — selflessly, and faithfully. So while I hope the day never comes, if there ever comes a day when your honor truly and genuinely compel you to rebel mid-battle, I do hope you have the courage to do so. No matter what the outcome.”

On that note, Lukas gets up. “I have to go,” he says. “It’s almost dawn, and I want to see my mate before the new day begins. Will you think on what we’ve spoken about and let me know what you decide — whether you were right or wrong to destroy the Wyldling?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Footsteps sound, for those who are paying attention and has good hearing, along the wall on the other side of the common room. The footsteps are not stomping, nor are they particularly light. They continue all the way along, until they reach the approximate location where the thud came from. Coincidentally, it is the wall near the pool tables, where Simon currently is. Anyone who might be fanciful might imagine something terrible, like Michael Myers walking along instead of a very pissed-off Silent Strider.

The footsteps stop suddenly, and after a couple moments, there are three loud pounds upon the door. “No está permitido tener relaciones sexuales en la sala! Y no a todos hasta que hable con nuestros familiares, perra! No creo que no voy a entrar con un balde de agua fría!” A pause.

Then three more pounds, and the footsteps make their way back along the hallway. Sarita appears back at the common room door, smiling again. “Sorry about that.” She moves to take a seat.

[Simon Zahradnik] He listens to the words of his elder… Nodding. Call it a lesson. Lukas always seemed a little softer hearted than he which wasn’t necessarily bad for a Shadow Lord, after all he was stronger than Simon. Well… Simon wasn’t about to challenge him anyway. Simon… Believed Lukas was stronger so it didn’t matter if Lukas was softer hearted or not in the younger Full Moon’s mind what mattered was that Lukas has strength Simon did not. That meant there was always something to be gleaned from him.

He nodded his head slowly.”Always stand up for that which you believe in… Noted Rhya.”He says with a nod of his head.”Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I will think on the matter.”He adds with a nod of his head and a little smile.”I will do what I can to put the matter behind me. You take care.”He says with a nod of his head before grinning a little and turning his attention on Sarita.

“No problem… Glad to have you back.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Sarita is almost back to the common room before there’s any sort of answer, which comes in the form of a fist slamming back into the door, then it’s quiet again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Have a good evening, Lukas.” She nods to him, giving him a little grin as she moves to take a seat on the couch. “Or….morning. Or whatever.” She’s still got that underlying pissed-offness to her, but when Sarita gets angry, the snark just comes out a bit more. She’s not so filled with Rage that people cringe at her presence. Maybe they should, but compared to the other two in the room, she’s freaking mellow.

She leans back, wincing a bit, and looks to Simon. “Sorry I missed the end of that conversation. I was enjoying it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And then she frowns when she hears the bang. “Do me a favor, Simon? Hit the wall there for me, right about lined up with the the far corner pockets?”

[Simon Zahradnik] He smirks a little at Sarita’s request. With a roll of his eyes he walks over and hits the wall with enough force to send the noise straight through the wall. At least so it is heard.”There happy?”

[Lukas] Perhaps there’s some truth in that: Lukas has gentleness in him, rarely seen by outsiders but present.

Though, two years ago he didn’t ever show it. Not to anyone not of his pack, anyway. Not to his family, even, except maybe his sister — certainly not to the woman who became his wife. He was a harder, more vehement creature then, filled with the fearless conviction of youth.

Those harsh, cruel lessons he spoke of has tempered that. Made grey out of black and white. Given him a sort of depth and patience, too, that he didn’t have before.

He returns Simon’s faint smile, and the nod. “You too, my brother,” he says. Then, to Sarita on his way out, by way of goodbye — “Hope things work out with your friend in there.”

His footsteps thud down the stairs, not so much noisy on purpose as by simple dint of his size, his height, his breadth. A little later the kitchen door opens and shuts; a little later that, the BMW starts up in the parking lot, then departs through the predawn blue.

[thanks for the RP, guys! really enjoyed it!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No. I probably just pissed her off enough to make my bed the one with the wet spot.” She shrugs. “But if she’s smart she’ll come out soon, before I go in.”

A little smile, and she looks at the man. “So how you feeling after the other night’s festivities? Sounds like you’ve been extra busy since…”

[Simon Zahradnik] He watches Lukas leave before looking back at Sarita.”You want me to go in there and…”He glides his index finger across his neck while asking the question.

He then ponders the rest of her question.”I’m great… How about you? All healed up and shit?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Dude, that’s my sister. No offense, ’cause I like you and all…but you kill my sister and I’m gonna have to kill you. And then someone’s gonna have to kill me. And it’ll be a whole big killing…thing.”

A pause. “And John would bleed all over the room. I don’t want that.”

She shrugs in regard to his question. “Not yet. I still got a little ways to go.” She grins. “Pain is good, though. It reminds you that you’re alive. And more importantly, that you can say, ‘Yeah, but you should see the other guy.'”

[Simon Zahradnik] He chuckles.”I’m just extending the offer… Fuck don’t kill the messenger lady.”He says with a little laugh before shrugging his shoulders and leans against the pool table.”You should see the other guy… What is left is worm food.”He says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t dick around with Wyrm creatures… They wanna play in my court they will learn that I have one rule. There ain’t no rules. I am bigger, meaner, and nastier than anything they got to throw at me. I have no problem playin’ Doctor with some asshole who thinks it’s funny to chop up little kids or drag folks off into the woods to… Do whatever.”He says with a shrug of his shoulders.”When I make war it’s total and absolute… Gimme time and I will teach the minions of the Wyrm they have something to fear. There ain’t nowhere the Wyrm can run or hide… If I were them I wouldn’t worry too much about Hell cause it’s right here and it’s comin’ to get ’em.”He says with a little grin and a flare in those eyes.”No mercy, no surrender, no forgiveness… I am coming for every last motherfuckin’ one of them and when I’m done with them I will hunt down their friends, and family and their fuckin’ dogs and chickens and every piece of shit who ever thought it was funny to back their asses up.”He laughs a little.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, aren’t you just Keyser Soze.” She gives a slight chuckle. The woman doesn’t look surprised by Simon’s words, and her comment may have humorous intent, but it’s not meant to be insulting in any way. Quite the contrary.

“I can’t say that I disagree as a rule. You have to hit them where it counts, after all. Do what you can.” She pauses, and the grin widens. “You know…just think. Not long ago I was trying to convince you to kick my ass. Now we’re hanging out and chatting. That’s why I love this city. So far, there’s no end to the surprises. I’m a fan of the unexpected.”

She looks over at the wall, and checks her watch. She seems to be timing something. That time is drawing closer.

[Simon Zahradnik] He shrugs his shoulders.”I am a Full Moon… I get in a lot of fights with a lot of folks. Doesn’t mean anything most of the time. I get pretty goddamn pissed off sometimes…”He laughs softly.”It’s nothing personal.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, totally nothing personal for me either. If it was personal, I would have thrown the first punch. Or, more likely, knee.” She waggles her brows.

Another check of the watch. She pauses, looking up as she does some math, and rises. “So what else have you been up to? Besides killing and pool and awesome conversations with your tribal Elder, that is?”

[Simon Zahradnik] He grins a little and laughs.”You knee me in the balls and we might not be on such friendly terms anymore!”He says with a little grin as he looks her over.”That’s about the extent of what I do around here. I am either talking, killing, or…”He rolls his eyes a little and choses not to finish that. There’s a lady present.

“Pretty boring guy most of the time.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “If you were gonna say ‘fucking,’ don’t feel the need to hold back. I am very fluent in George Carlin-ese, believe me. The seven words are like the ten commandments to me.”

She walks over to the wall and pounds four times, loudly. “Esta es la última advertencia antes de que consiga el cubo!

[John] [Alertness+Perception: DOO DOO DOO… -1 pool (2A), +2 diff (out of sight).]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 4, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Simon Zahradnik] He laughs a little and shrugs.”You seemed like a… Refined and sophistocated woman I didn’t wish to…”She pounds aon the wall and screams a little and Simon folds his arms over his chest as he listens.”El Cubo… That sounds pretty serious.”

[Amunet Trujillo] TXT: Back the fuck off, please? I really like him…
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her phone lights up, playing a snippet of “Pocketful of Sunshine,” and she slips it out of her pocket. Simon can actually see her shoulders bunch up on frustration. She stabs at the keys, typing a message back, and puts it away before looking back.

“El Cubocapra. It’s like the bloodsucking bat, but plastic and with a handle. And walruses often get them stolen and then are sad.” The snark is definitely kicked up now. “Anyway. Yeah, I’m one sophisticated bitch, that’s for sure.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] TXT: You shouldn’t have fucked him in our room. You realize that I’ll be smelling that all morning now? Thanks for making me sleep in the van. You get this one time. I’m not pleased.
to Amunet Trujillo

[Simon Zahradnik] He nods his head.”I see… This is like some important cultural shit or something?”He asks her with a little grin. He then looks at whatever she is typing a message into.”Careful those things break way too easy.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve only broken, like, seventeen since I met Amy.” She shrugs, coming over and hopping up to sit on the pool table. “Three more and T-Mobile owes me a set of steak knives.”

[Simon Zahradnik] He grins a little.”Steak knives are pretty sweet. I mean for steak or like… Whatever… I dunno.”He says with a little grin.”She pisses you off a lot? That like a sister thing? Or is she just a bitch?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Mmmm…” She runs her tongue over the edge of her teeth while she thinks. “Right now? I would say it’s because she’s just a bitch. But the truth is, it’s a sister thing. I piss her off as much as she pisses me off. I wouldn’t be pissed if I didn’t care, y’know?”

And in truth, there is a deep caring for her sister underneath Sarita’s anger. The bond with the kin is the thing Sarita has that is unbreakable, and that hasn’t been able to be taken from Sarita. They’ll fight and they’ll argue and irritate from time to time, but there’s a definite sense in the way Sarita talks about Amunet that she’d move heaven and earth for the girl.

As long as she doesn’t let guys pound her in a room where Sarita will be smelling it all day, anyway. Details.

[John] One of the occupants of the room, it seems, has some semblance of sense: the noises from Room 10 stop.

Of course, a shower turns on in the bathroom a few minutes after the last assault from Sarita’s fist against the wall, but that’s a minor detail. She isn’t disturbed again, and when she goes back to her room tonight, there won’t be a tall, apparently-attractive-to-Simon Modi anywhere near the place where she lays her head.

[Simon Zahradnik] He nods.”I see… So that’s like something from your DNA like binds you and shit? Some kinda magical DNA power or something?”He asks her with a little grin. In the back of his mind he thinks John is a pretty attractive Modi and if he were a kin and into dudes there might be somethin’ goin’ on… Unfortunately chicks still seem to have that unhealthy hold on him. Damn… If only!

He then forces a little frown back up when Sarita mentioned not being pissed if she didn’t care and Simon nods his head.”Right. I get it now.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs when she hears the shower. “I better go check and make sure I’m not getting stabbed in my sleep or anything. And possibly get some sleep. It’s been good talking to ya though. We should go kill shit again some time.”

She throws Simon a wink as she heads for the hallway, Room 10 her destination. “Hasta.”

[Simon Zahradnik] He grins and enjoys the view as Sarita walks away. A little grin showing before he turns and heads for the exit with a bitter little smirk. If Gaia didn’t want you to fuck ’em… Why’d she make ’em so goddamn curvy? Bitch is crazy.

A Trip To The Wieners Circle

[John] Whoever is on the other end of the conversation is not the world’s quickest thumb-typer. It’s easy for her to imagine, perhaps, that the tall Modi is attempting to push the buttons with an index finger rather than his thumb; he does not appear, either in person or her recollection, to be the world’s most manually dexterous person. It is a good two minutes before she gets a response.

[Amunet Trujillo] She gives Leon an apologetic smile, phone in her hand as she waits and tilts her head toward the door. “Shall we? What sounds good?”

[Leon Davenport] He turned hishead to look at her with a smile “Hmmmm only places that mgiht still be open are mCDonald’s or Denny’s. Only you know of another place, I guess Denny’s would be ok”

[Leon Davenport] (*Unless you know…)

[Amunet Trujillo] The smile she gives him is pure evil. “You like hot dogs?”

[Leon Davenport] He tilt his head at her expression “Hot dogs, sure.” he say with a smile

[Amunet Trujillo] GodDAMNIT. How the fuck does she get into these situations? She texts quickly, then slips her phone into her pocket.

[Amunet Trujillo] “I know the perfect place.” She zips her jacket, then heads out into the cold.

[Leon Davenport] He watche her with her phone then nodded at her reply “All right, lead the way”He say moving after her “Should we get a cab?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Probably a good idea, yeah.”

[John] There is no response that Amunet can read on her phone; whoever is on the other end must have figured that silence was the equivalent of acquiescence. Given who it is, that can’t be too surprising. She doesn’t hear from him again until they get to the hot dog stand.

[Leon Davenport] He nods and look around for a cab, once he spot one he hails it and let her give the driver’s directions to where she wanted to go

[Amunet Trujillo] (Acquiescence is a great word…) She makes small talk in the cab on the way over, pulling out a compact to check her makeup and powder her nose in a move that seems far too girly for her.

[Leon Davenport] He watched her with some kind of half smile on his lips. He hoped it was for him, but had a feeling it wasn’t so. Though life is full of surprises right? He talk with her during the ride, paying for the ride once they arrive at their destination

[Amunet Trujillo] The hot dog stand is run down, at best. Even in the sub zero wind chill, the place is overflowing with the usual late night crowd, with people crammed into the tiny space and shouting orders and obscenities over each other.

[Leon Davenport] He looked at the place “Lovely”He say with a grin. He headed inside, opening the door for her and well his presence hascertainly quieten the place a little as people stare at him not without fear as he move to find a place to sit. Those stuck around them are giving him wary glances, not too sure if the man will attack them if htey make too much noice. Fact is..it could happen.

[John] Standing apart from the crowd of people is a tall, solidly-built young man who ought to be familiar to Amunet by now, who Leon might recognize as the nameless Modi whom he had bought shots last night prior to his seemingly uncalled-for disappearance. He’s not paying attention to his surroundings–or at least, he doesn’t seem to–because he’s staring off into the distance, likely at nothing, snow seeming to melt before it touches him as it falls down out of the sky. He is wearing a jacket tonight, but no gloves, scarf or hat. It’s brutally cold, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

[Amunet Trujillo] The drunker of the patrons, which is most of them to be honest, continue to shout and cat call. They aren’t inside five minutes before Amy’s ass is grabbed, the owner of the offending hand spitting out teeth not ten seconds later after a particularly effective right hook.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s moving gingerly this evening after the misadventures from the night before. The Garou is in a fairly good mood though as she walks along, not minding the cold. It distracts from the rest of the discomfort. She flicks a cigarette out the window as she pulls her van up to the hot dog stand, slipping out and making her way along toward the front door.

[Leon Davenport] Just before he sat, Leon noticed John. Great, he tihnks ot himself. There goes his appetite. He didn’t believe in coincidences. He now had a good idea who it was that teexted Amy and made her grin earlier. He doesn’t say anything, except nodding to the man, a barely perceptible nod, hands in his pockets. He doesn’t move closer to John, thinking Amy will either motion him over or go join him

[John] [Hey guys can you do me a huge favor? I’m a slow writer and tend to bail out of scenes I can’t keep up with. Could we do maybe one post per “round” so I don’t have a flail moment?]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[That’s fine!]]

[John] [You guys are awesome, thank you so much! I’ll try and keep my posts short.]

[Leon Davenport] (works for me…so order is you, Amy, Sarista then me?)

[Leon Davenport] *Sarita

[John] [Yeah… we don’t even have to do an ‘order,’ just as long as I don’t have more than one set of posts to respond to at once.]

[John] On the next sweep of the room, he notices a few things: Amy is being manhandled by one of the myriad drunk patrons frequenting the place, she manages to knock out a few of his teeth and move on with her night, and she’s brought along the Ahroun who she was with last night.

This doesn’t faze him. Perhaps that speaks more of John’s intentions being nearly Puritan, but there isn’t a rankling of territorialism or a flash of jealousy when he realizes she’s here with another wolf. He just pulls away from his perch, where he’d been leaning against a wall out of the way, and starts to wander over. He’s moving slowly, but he doesn’t appear as though he’s in any distress.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pushes in through the front door, looking around as she does so. She seems familiar with the unique environment of the place and is grinning a little as she lets the door swing shut behind her. She pauses to take a lean against the door for a second, getting her bearings and figuring out the lay of the land tonight.

The first thing she sees is John, who of course she recognizes from last night. He gets a big grin and a little wave, before she follows his path to see Amy and Leon. Her brow quirks at that, watching the situation placing two male Garou in conjunction with her sister, and she walks over toward the table. Her expression is more or less inscrutable. She’s smiling, but anyone who knows her knows that this could be either good OR bad.

[Amunet Trujillo] Chants of ‘Chocolate Shake!’ start, along with a collection of bills. Once there’s a sizable amount, the wad is handed over to the large, loud black woman behind the counter. After flipping through to do a rough count of the amount, she tucks it under the counter, then lifts her shirt and shakes her bare breasts as a loud cheer fills the small space and echos off the cinderblock walls.

[Leon Davenport] He turned his head and looked at what happened with a brow raised then grinned at Amy “You bring me to most wonderful places”He say witha touch of amusement. He noticedJohn heading toward them and leaned into his seat. He felt Sarita more than he saw her, and turned his head to get a look at her for she was behind him. He recognize the beautiful woman having saluted him last night as he left the bar. She receive a brief nod of greeting, in case she recognize him but he had to turn his head back again, after all he was a wolf, not an owl.

[John] It takes a moment for John to recognize Sarita when she isn’t in another form, but the piercing eyes and the breeding does what his brain cannot do of its own volition. She grins, teeth flashing, but it is the wave that keeps his hackles down and his temper quieted. He feels more like a Forseti tonight than a Modi, his reserves drained down to the dregs last night, but even so, the Forseti of his tribe tend to be as intense as some of their warriors; he does not seem any more calm than he usually does, yet John isn’t exactly known for his hair-trigger temper or his bullheadedness.

Granted, the others see how strong his blood roars in his veins, sees how true to the Viking archetype his physicality is, and they make assumptions. It doesn’t appear to bother him, and if it does, he’s either an adept liar or else he simply takes advantage of his inability to speak. Lord knows what he would be like if he could fire off what he was thinking with the instantaneousness that others enjoy.

A chant starts up, and rather than approaching the couple at the table, John ambles a few feet closer to Sarita, as though there’s some strength in numbers, or as though they share camaraderie after last night. Slowly, one eyebrow raised, he turns to watch the woman behind the counter as she lifts her shirt in exchange for money. The horror on his face is muted to the point of being comical, and when he looks back to Sarita, the question is plainly written:

What the fuck?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hola, chico,” she says to John. When he gives her the look of confusion and horror over the Chocolate Shake show, she just gives a casual shrug and a chuckle. “Welcome to the Wieners Circle.”

She pats his shoulder and nods her head toward Amy and Leon’s table. “C’mon. Let’s get you where you were going. You can introduce me to my sister.” That confusing statement makes complete sense to Sarita,somehow, and she heads over to Leon and Amy, giving them a nod.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” She looks between the two, brow raised.

[snowstorm] (closed scene?)
to Amunet Trujillo, John, Leon Davenport, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[John] [Not anymore! Mwa ha ha!]
to Amunet Trujillo, Leon Davenport, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, snowstorm

[Leon Davenport] (it’s open)
to Amunet Trujillo, John, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, snowstorm

[Amunet Trujillo] She flashes a quick grin at Leon, nodding. “I knew you’d like it. They have food, too.” Her arm automatically links with John’s for a moment when he gets to the table, and he’s abandoned a moment later as she leans into Sarita.

[snowstorm] (Where’s the current location at?)
to Amunet Trujillo, John, Leon Davenport, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wieners_Circle ]]

[Amunet Trujillo] (This is why you rock…)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Yay!]]

[Leon Davenport] His piercing blue eyes looked up at the woman who arrived it seem to join them with the Get. He didn’t know who she was but he had an idea what she was “Good evening” He say to her with a polite smile. His eyes flicker to John after Amy let go of his arm “Evening”He say a little more flatly.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Sister. Leon. John. And then back around.” She points to each as she names them, then circles her finger between them all.

[John] Welcome to the Wieners Circle.

He laughs, looking somewhat shell-shocked as he looses that voiceless Heh heh! and allows the much smaller woman to lead him away from the front counter. Without looking back, they travel the distance between Sarita’s sister and John’s auspicemate. He seems not so much confused as he is reserved when Amy links arms with him, perhaps taking Sarita’s words to heart or simply noticing, immediately, the flatness with which the other Full Moon addresses him.

That’s when he looks confused, but it’s brief, and he’s quickly distracted by introductions. He gives Leon a lift of his chin in silent greeting, eyes curious yet cautious. His face has not been shaved since the last time they met, and while he’s clean, John still looks as though he’d be more at home in a forest or in the desert than in this metropolitan jungle. A glance to Sarita, and he finds a seat at the table with nothing to do with his hands. They’re clapped onto his knees, and he says nothing. He had said nothing last night, either.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles as Amy leans into her, even managing not to wince too badly. “Hey, you. Keeping busy, I see?” It’s teasing, but for once she’s not seeming bitter about it. She’s a little more docile than Amy might be used to from her, and she slips an arm around Amy’s shoulder, relaxing in the seat. That relaxation, the shifting of muscles, causes her to wince a bit. Someone doesn’t have friends who can “Poof, You’re Healed” to her, so she’s still baring the wounds for now. It’s simply that she was doing a better job of hiding it until she sat down and relaxed.

“Wanna introduce me to your friends, who I’ve met…kind of, anyway?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Leon is the one I told you about that’s going to let me train with him. John… “Yeah. What?” Met him at the Broho the other night. He kept me from smacking somebody last night.

She pulls away from Sarita, looking between the two wolves. Fuck. “I’ll get dogs. Everybody play nice.”

[Leon Davenport] He looked at Amy go then brought his attention to John and Sarita. He offered his hand to her “Plesed to meet you. I never got your name. I know she calls you Sar but I’m pretty sure it’s not your full name” He was smiling slightly, trying not ot let the tension or animosity he felt toward John to show. Sad thing is, he know it wasn’t the guy’s fault. It started with the Remy and Sofie episode and then last night with the way Amy reacted to him. He jsut has the worst luck when a kin caught his eye it seem.

He then offered his hand more reluctantly to John to shake it, not saying anything more.

[John] Unfortunately, the man sitting across from Leon is about as empathetic as a head of broccoli. He seems friendly enough, which in turn makes him seem not all that bright, which is only further substantiated by the normal weight of his Rage and the near-fearlessness with which he runs into battle and the fact that when he attempts to communicate via written language, it is riddled with spelling and grammatical errors. Right now, there isn’t a shred of hostility in him, and there hadn’t been last night, either, yet he can see enough of it in Leon’s eyes that it has him eyeing the offered hand before taking it.

It isn’t suspicion so much as it is preparation for it to be some sort of a trap. Leon’s reluctance is telling, but John doesn’t let it deter him. He takes his large hands off of his knees, shrugs out of his winter jacket to reveal a dark blue thermal shirt, and extends his right hand to clasp not the other man’s palm, but his wrist. Eye contact is made, blue on blue, and when he sits back, his confusion has abated.

[Amunet Trujillo] Waiting in line, she sends a quick text and chats with a very drunk group of Sorority sisters.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks between Leon and John, then back to Amy, then back to John, then to Amy. One can practically see the terrible idea welling up in her head before it comes out, and one might even try to stop it if one figured out how. But this is a Strider whose bad ideas will not be stopped. Ever.

So she shakes her head. “Wow. This is just a whole table full of not talking about underlying tensions. And only one of us really has an excuse.” He looks at Leon. “There are two things my sister isn’t a fan of when it comes to her men. One is a small dick. The other is passive-aggressive bitchiness. You wanna get a ruler out and see if you’re 0 for 2?”

[Leon Davenport] He rose a brow at Sarita “Excuse me?” He say, his eyes looking directly into hers, his tone not cold, but certainly not warm either. He hadn’t met this woman for more than 5 minutes and already she was in his face “Look, if I really had a problem with the man, or her, or both, either I would be taking this place down ducking it with him or would leave. Since I”m doing neither, maybe it’s something else entirely and I’m dealing with it. Or maybe it’s just not of your damn business.”

He say leaning into his seat “I’m all right, no problems, let’s leave it at that”

[Quinn] Ah, the park. There’s probably snow piled all over the place, and the temperatures are not favorable to those without Rage. But the streets are terrible for driving, even if one has a vehicle, so a certain tall, lanky Fianna woman is out strolling on foot. Well not exactly strolling.

Dressed for the weather in jeans and sneakers, a leather jacket with who knows how many layers beneath, a blue-and-white knit cap holding down her long dark hair, and a matching scarf around her face, Quinn is making good time as she cuts across the park from one end to the other. Her business this night is her own, and it takes her past a hot dog vendor with some tables and, she looks, does a double take. Her pace slows.

Amunet and Sarita she recognizes from The Brotherhood, the other two Garou, she hasn’t seen before. Hm, interesting. Her steps bring her near but not right beside the table. Close enough for them to pick up on the breeding, that sense of rolling green hills and passionate barbarian warriors, yet not close enough to intrude.

[Amunet Trujillo] (They’re actually here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wieners_Circle)

[John] His phone makes some sort of strange noise that ends up being buried beneath the din within the restaurant as John keeps his attention on the confrontation brewing at the table. Muscles in his jaws are tense but mostly hidden by the week’s worth of growth on his face, but once he releases Leon’s hand he sits back in his chair, hands returned to his knees, looking prepared for an outburst or an attack rather than appearing to be relaxed and waiting for the conversation to take another turn south.

A thought occurs to him, and he reaches into his pocket for his cell phone. It seems to be less permanent and more legible than his handwriting; when he opens the device, though, there’s a message waiting for him. He frowns at it, running his tongue over his teeth with his lips closed, and his eyes flick in the direction Amy had gone before he claps the phone shut again and puts it back into his pocket.

When he looks back to Sarita, it’s as if to confirm that Leon’s answer is satisfactory. They’re Full Moons, one of them a Modi whose Rage is higher than normal. While it is a safe assumption that if there was a legitimate problem they would have hashed it out by now, he looks as certain of the situation as he had in the moments before the human woman bared her breasts earlier. That look doesn’t last long before he’s sniffing, harshly, and turning back to Leon.

[Amunet Trujillo] Amy makes her way back to the table with four fully loaded Chicago dogs and four drinks all stuffed onto a tiny tray. The tip of her tongue pokes out over her bottom lip as she concentrates on carrying the tray without incident, the habit seeming totally involuntary.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She just smirks a little bit at Leon’s answer. It’s clear that she doesn’t really buy it, considering both what she’d seen and what she’d heard about. Everything she’d seen so far told a different story…and honestly, it might not be totally clear whether she spoke up for Amy’s sake or for John’s. But she shrugs a little, half-acknowledging the comment and half-dismissing it.

“You talk big, but I know what’s up. I said my peace, you heard it, you protesteth too damned much. Let’s go back to the a comfortably awkward dynamic.”

She looks to John and smiles to him. “So, you feelin’ as much like hell as I am?”

[Quinn] Quinn actually sees them through the window, and she pauses, considering the wiener stand, which isn’t a stand at all and is in fact a little restaurant.

Something draws her to head inside. A pull or push of the entrance’s door, and she enters along with a bit of the wintry air. Stepping into the line, she glances at the table of Rage, thoughtful and contemplative.

[Leon Davenport] He smirked at her but said nothing before turning his attention toward Amy who was struggling with the tray “Hmm John, sister”He say to Sarita as she never offered her name “any of you might want to help Amy with that”He would have gone, but well, he was the farthest from her and he would have to go over John to help Amy. He would behave around John, but moving over and into the man’s personal space to help Amy might not be a good idea.

[John] With the transition, John looks back to Sarita, jabbing a calloused finger at his own sternum with eyebrows lifted as if to confirm she’s addressing him. Of the five of them, the Modi had taken the brunt of the damage, jumping in front of nearly everyone on the impromptu battlefield before ultimately falling beneath the fangs of a war wolf. He was not pleased with the turn of events when he regained consciousness, but he was returned somewhat to rights by the end of the night. One of the few benefits of being born as he was is the lack of necessity of complete immobility to heal more quickly.

The question registers, and John laughs again, that same motion that is more suggestion than anything else. He lifts his left arm to pantomime flexing, as though that’s supposed to be indicative of how tough he is, and when Leon asks if any of them are going to help Amy, he turns around. It isn’t a Fomor attack or a broken ankle but a brief struggle with a drink tray.

As much as he loathes the idea of relying on someone else to speak for him, he seems to be under the impression that either Sarita will agree that her sister can handle the task of carrying a tray a few feet, or she’ll get up to tend to her own Kinfolk. John doesn’t move.

[Amunet Trujillo] Okay, who’s sitting next to who? I’m confused. Leon by himself on his side, Sarita and John on the other?
to John, Leon Davenport, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[That was my interpretation]]
to Amunet Trujillo, John, Leon Davenport

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “She’ll be fine. Trust me, worst thing you can do is suggest Amy needs help with something.” She looks back at the arriving Quinn and she smiles, raising a hand over her shoulder to wave to the kinfolk in a friendly gesture.

“Hey chica,” she calls out. “What’s shaking?”

[Amunet Trujillo] While the debate is raging, she makes it to the table without dumping anything. Something about “fuckers” is muttered under her breath, and she flops down in the empty spot at the table.

[Quinn] “Hey hey,” she greets with a wave back and a smile seen only in her twinkling blue eyes. She looks over at the line, then back to the table where there are at least two people she recognizes.

Hands in the pockets of her coat, she tugs down the scarf, loosening its stranglehold. “Nothing much, thought I’d thaw out a bit before trying to catch a bus back north. Hi,” she says, her smile warm as she greets the two unknowns and the other kinfolk. “I’m Quinn.”

[Leon Davenport] He nodded at Sarita “Actually it was more that I didn’t trust the other hmm patrons for lack of better words. Apes did come to mind though”He said with a smile, watching the loud and drunk people in the hot dog stand. When Amy sat beside him, he smiled to her “Thanks for the food” He looked at the new girl and offered her a smile “Good evening, I”m Leon”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Hey. Amy.” She’s grabbed one dog and one soda from the tray, apparently abandoning the others to get their own.

[John] [I’m gonna go shower real fast, I smell like a Bone Gnawer. John will be alert and attentive but obvious not say a damn thing. BRB!]

[Amunet Trujillo] (Eeew)

[Hunter] [HEY!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grabs her own food, smiling to Amy. “Thanks. You’re the best that isn’t me?” It’s said in a good-natured tease. “Hey, do me a favor…switch places with me. My right side is killin’ me because someone tried to kill me, and I’ll sit better where you’re at.”

Sure, maybe it’s her side. But if you listen close, you can’t help but note the mischievous twitch to her smile. She looks to Quinn and smiles warmly to her. “Sit down, if you want. If you need, I can give you a ride back if you want to go at the same time I do. That’s the nice part of owning a van. Long as you don’t park it down by the river, then you’re a Saturday Night Live cliche.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[“You’re the best that isn’t me.” As in, non-question.]]

[Leon Davenport] He picked a hot dog and a soda, raising a brow at Sarita when she asked Amy to switch place. He leaned back inot his seat as he angled the hot dog in a way he could actually take a bite out of it without sending everything inside all over the table. He did look at Sarita at the mention of someone trying to kill her “What happened?” He ask her with curiosity “That is if you can talk about it here”

[Quinn] “Hey,” she greets Leon with a polite incline of her head. She knows what he is, just as she knows what Sarita and the other, quieter stranger are. The kinswoman of Stag knows her place, is polite and respectful yet still warm in her dealings with strange Garou. It’s the years spent in their company, and the knowledge that the moon overhead has little to no effect on them tonight. Tonight, their Rage is quiet, and only as troubled as the Garou themselves are.

“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to grab a dog and head out. And I think I’m a little too motivated to wind up in a van down by the river,” she quips with a wink to the Strider.

[John] There is not a lot going on, yet John isn’t speaking. He does not have a tag on his shirt that says MUTE, so while he spars the kinswoman his attention for the brief amount of time that she’s at their table, he doesn’t greet her or attempt to engage her in conversation as Sarita does. Sarita does well enough for the both of them, but she’s otherwise engaged when Leon asks her what happened. The Modi furrows his brow in thought, then taps the edge of the table to get his attention and briefly pantomimes what happened last night.

A fight, is what he can get out of it. And maybe Sarita was squished. It’s hard to tell what he’s trying to convey.

[John] [Hah. “spares,” not “spars.”]

[Quinn] [percept + intuit: Time for a Vulcan mind-meld?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Quinn gets a chuckle, which comes with a wince. “Oh god, I’m turning into my sister.” A reference to Amy’s being banged up for the last week and a half or so. She shakes it off and nods to the Fianna kin.

“Well, fair enough. If you end up stuck out in that weather and need a life, gimme a call. I’m all sorts of down for giving you a lift.”

She looks over at John when he pantomimes what happens, and nods, looking to Leon. “That’s about the gist of it. Things tried to go stabby stabby, bitey bitey and chainsaw-y chainsaw-y. We went bitey bitey and chainsaw-y chainsaw-y better. And never try to throw something bigger than you can pick up.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She half scowls at Sarita, then stands up to change places with her. “Bitch has to go off and get in all the good fights without me…”

[Leon Davenport] He offered a polite smile at Quiinn as it seem she wo’n’t stay. He watched John micmicking the fight and then nodded at Sar’s description “Well glad you’re both fairly ok” And he actually sounded honest on this. No matter what he might be feeling or not toward John and his real or imaginary relation with Amy, in Leon’s mind, there was too few of them for him to actually wish the death of another Garou. He took a bite out of his hot dog “Hmmm, that’s pretty good”He say after swallowing

[Quinn] “Thanks,” she says, and means it. The offer will definitely be mulled over and considered, possibly even accepted. She watches the quiet stranger pantomime a fight, and someone getting squished, to which Quinn lets out a huff of a laugh.

“Well that’s just good old common sense. Excuse me,” she says, looking over at the line, then back to Sarita and the others, “I’m going to try and get some food before they start getting surly.” She steps away to stand in line to order herself a couple of char dogs with the works.

[Hunter] There is a bristling of rage at the door, it swings open to emit the Gnawer who is wrapped up in a long brown coat, not as dark his mop of hair, dark chocolate brown and rustled by the winter winds. It sticks up at odd angles. There is a fine mesh of stubble along his jawline, around his lips and chin and cheeks and after opening the door his hands dip back into his pockets.

He doesn’t look towards the counter, doesn’t look at the displays of options for food, instead his eyes find the inhabitants within. At first he sees John, Sarita, a kinfolk he has seen before and an unknown Garou. He nods to the Modi but does not smile from his position near the door.

There is breeding in this room, strong breeding telling of ancestors and their great deeds. It speaks to the Ahroun but doesn’t overwhelm him, he has learned to become accustomed to it here in Chicago. A particular batch of breeding though claims more of his attention than the rest and his eyes settle on the back of the Fiann for a good few seconds and unless she turns around to see him – he motions to John with a flick of his head.

Hunter would like a word.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She stands and slips around Amy, taking the seat next to Leon and letting Amy have the one next to John. She sits down with a hiss and then laughs. “Fuck me sideways with a chainsaw, that sucked.” She pauses. “Also, being fucked sideways with a chainsaw would suck. And was a distinct possibility last night.”

She nods to Quinn. “Sounds like a plan. Go go, eat. Be Merry. Hell, be Pippin.” Amy gets a little apologetic grin. This one isn’t too apologetic though. “Hey, I don’t find the trouble lately. It keeps finding me.”

And finally, she looks to the door when it opens and Hunter appears. She gives him a little grin, followed by a nod. No need to drag him over if he’s not wanting to come…just an acknowledgment of the fellow Garou.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Jesus, you’re a fucking weirdo.” She grins at her sister, sliding in next to John with her hand resting on his leg and flashing Leon a quick, apologetic smile.

[Leon Davenport] He saw the hand on John’s leg then the apologetic smile. He wondered if she was apologizing for the switch, or for hte hand and maybe liking John. He has no idea how she actually feel about the get, or him, or even him toward her. Might be jsut lust he feels, or some sort of Alpha male instinct to have her. Maybe it’s something else entirely. And it was giving him a headache. So he decided to give her a smile, kinda saying it’s all right with that smile, then continued to eat his hot dog

[John] The sisters stand from the table to swap places, putting Sarita next to Leon and Amy across from him, and John appears unconcerned until the kinswoman calls her sister a bitch, speaks of getting into fights without her. He appears as though he isn’t certain whether to laugh or be concerned, but luckily, the door opens and allows another Full Moon entrance into a place that is quickly emptying of human influence.

It’s the two blue-eyed men at the table, but nobody here is going to admit that.

Without a totemic bond or breeding or excessive Rage on Hunter’s part, John isn’t aware of his presence until his eyes happen to meander over in that direction of their own accord. There’s a shared nod, and then a jerk of Hunter’s head coinciding with Amunet reaching over and resting her hand on John’s thigh. His eyes flick sideways, nostrils briefly flaring, and without ceremony reaches down to take the kinswoman’s hand by the wrist–gently–and set it on the tabletop for safe keeping. Without a second thought, he gets to his feet, leaving his jacket strewn over the back of the chair.

His strides eat up the distance effortlessly, most of John’s power seeming to be in his limbs rather than in his core like a human. Without fur or fangs, he still walks with a confidence that comes from knowing he could kill just about anything that happened across his path tonight, and when he gets to Hunter he gives him another upward nod, an indication that he’s ready to listen. It’s cold as Hell tonight, and he is missing his jacket.

Whatever Hunter has to say is quiet. John leans one arm against the corner of the wall, curling his wrist around the edge, his other hand going to his hip. It’s loud tonight, the drunks out in full force and not reacting well to the monsters in their midst.

[Quinn] Quinn turns, as most people in a line will turn when they hear a door open and feel the rush of outside air filter into a space. Her body twists, and she looks over her shoulder with idle curiosity, not expecting to see anyone she recognizes.

She should know better by now. It’s difficult bordering on impossible to go anywhere without finding a Garou a step behind her, or waiting up ahead. This one she recognizes. The smile she gives him is broad, warm, familiar. Her eyes flick in the direction of the Modi he wants to talk to, and she turns away.

It’s her turn to place an order, anyway.

[Amunet Trujillo] She blinks in total surprise when her hand is moved to the table and John is up and gone almost in one smooth motion. That has obviously never happened to her before, and she seems unsure as to how to handle it. Her eyes track John for a moment, then return with some effort to Sarita and Leon.

[Hunter] Sarita gets a nod of the head but no words, he has seen more than she could tell him and his Beta will find out the rest.

As John approaches, he sees Hunter flash a smile to the Fiann, it isn’t like the comical grins that he has seen before on the Gnawer’s face, this one is warm and understated to the point of confusing anyone but the recipient. But she knows he has business, she doesn’t try to interfere, instead she just goes about her order and leaves him to it. The Gnawer does not hesitate to do just what he had come here to do and his attention reverts completely to the Modi who leans in beside him.

The words are hushed, inaudible to the rest of the room but when he has finished, Hunter gives the Modi a clap on the shoulder hearty and familiar. He grins at him with narrowed eyes. Their war will begin soon. The brief meeting finishes and Hunter pushes back through the door but waits outside.

[Leon Davenport] He was as surprised as her by John’s reaction and some part of him was happy about it. It didn’t change things for him much, or in his favor and Amy’s reaction to it showed that. He shrugged slightly and turned to look at Sarita “Might not be any of my buisness”He ask the Ragabash “But I was wondering if you had joined a pack yet.” He ask with genuine curiosity

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives a slight cock of the head to John’s reaction, but not much else. Amy gets a little shrug, and she leans back to look at Leon. The grin on her face might be interpreted by a trusting person as liking Leon. A paranoid person might think she’s imagining what he looks like when he’s been driven into gibbering insanity. Someone who knows Sarita well might say that it could very well be both. Yes, she is one complicated bitch to figure out sometimes. But that’s half the fun of Sarita. She’s like a riddle wrapped in an enigma, surrounded by signs that say Abandon hope, all ye who even get close to this crazy bitch. In an Old English font. Because that’s how she rolls.

“A pack? No, I haven’t.” She shakes her head. “Amy and I are still weighing options.” If it seems odd that Sarita considers Amy’s opinion when choosing a pack, Sarita doesn’t seem to realize.

[John] A clap to John’s shoulder is met with the Modi abandoning his relaxed stance against the wall to return the gesture. Something the Bone Gnawer says makes him look back over his shoulder at the table, yet it’s difficult to tell where exactly his gaze falls. He squints, briefly, before looking back to Hunter a giving a nod of his head.

Alright, it says, to whatever it is that’s been determined, and he steps away from the two-man congregation, arms at his sides and pace slow as he moves across the considerably less-crowded dining room and back to the table where his auspicemate and the two sisters are still sitting. He does not drop himself back down, but rather reaches down to pick up his jacket with one hand. Amunet’s shoulder receives a brief yet not featherlight touch to grab her attention, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

It’s held up, as if to demonstrate what it is he wants, and he jerks his head towards the door, his expression imploring rather than intimidating. What that’s supposed to mean may be an enigma to the other two. Whether or not Amunet decides to get up and come with him, John shrugs back into his jacket and walks off, not much of a farewell given to the two at the table beyond a nearly indecipherable glance between them and a lift of his chin.

[Quinn] Of course she lets Hunter conduct his business in peace. Quinn didn’t come to the hot dog stand to fawn over Garou, just to say hello to some new ones she hasn’t seen before and grab a bite to eat before making the trek back to The Brotherhood. Maybe try to thaw out her fingers and toes a bit while she’s at it.

It doesn’t take long for her order to be filled and thrown into a paper bag. Food in hand, she makes her way back through the restaurant toward the door, tossing a wave to the table in passing.

“See you later, guys. Nice to meet you, Leon and Amy. And you, too, Guy.” This last to John as she passes him on her way out into the cold.

[and Quinn is out! Thanks for letting me flyby, guys!]

[Leon Davenport] He nodded at Sarita “Yes, Amy mentioned something to me as both of you coming together. Well me and two others are looking into forming one. I spoke briefly to Amy about it and I’d like if I could contact both of you to meet with us and maybe some others so we can talk about what we have in mind and see if it would fit with your goals.”

If it seemed weird to him that Sarita was considering her sister’s opinion, it didn’t show. He put down his hot dog and took his soda, drinking some of it. “The meeting should happen saturday and shouldn’t take too much of you time if you’re not interested in what we’re selling. “Hesay to both of them as John comes back. Once again, it seem Amy might leave with the guy. Ah well, life’s like that. You win some you lose some. He smiled slightly and nodded to Quinn, then looked at the sister’s for their answer

[Leon Davenport] (*at the sisters…)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[I think we lost Ange, I think it’s safe to assume she might go with John, might be a good place to exit her.]]

[Leon Davenport] (nods* i agree…she can come back later if she wishes to)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, I’ll meet.” She nods. “I won’t promise anything more than that, up to and including the possible permanently pissing off the other prospective pack members you’ve got lined up. But hey, at the very least maybe you can get them all united by a desire to kick my ass.” She grins widely…almost TOO amused at that.

“That’d be fun.”

[Leon Davenport] HeHe nodded with a smile “I’m not asking anything more than that. Do you mind giving me a number to reach you at, or should I contact you through Amy?” He ask, drinking some more from his soda. “I have a feeling you might be at least partly interested in what we have in mind” He say with a slight tilt of his head. He grabbed his hot dog again, taking a bite out of it.

[Amunet Trujillo] She sighs inwardly, jacket grabbed as she slides from the booth. “I’ll be right back. No making any decisions without me.” It isn’t clear which of them she’s addressing, but there isn’t time to clarify as she’s up and moving after John almost before the sentence is out of her mouth.

[John] At the door, John stops to give the kinswoman time to catch up to him. In the amount of time it takes her to reach him, he has extracted his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket; his tongue is pushed into the back of an incisor as he holds the device in the palm of his right hand and slowly, carefully, pecks his way through the fields to do what he wants to do with it. Rather than sending her a message to her own feet, when Amunet catches up to him, he turns the phone around so that she can reach it.

He doesn’t let her take it, but neither can anyone else beyond her read what he’s tapped out, either.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I might be.” She cocks her head to the side. “Might not be. Only way we’ll find is to jump into the kerosene and light a match. If the smoldering corpses float, then they’re witches; if not, they’re innocent. Either way, I’ll bring the marshmellows.”

Did that make sense to anyone? Hey you, in the crowd. Did that make sense to you? No? Okay good, ’cause I’m lost too. But then, maybe that was her point. She grins, watching Leon.

[Amunet Trujillo] Something has irritated her between the table and reaching the door, and there’s a slight scowl on her face even before she reaches John and leans in to read what’s been tapped out onto the screen. The irritation is replaced by complete confusion, which slowly fades into a guarded look as she reads the words twice before shrugging a shoulder and flipping her hair. “Just thought you might want to hang out.”

She isn’t looking at him though. Not directly.

[Leon Davenport] He simply grinned at her. She didn’t make any sense to himat all, but hey, she certainly could keep people entertained with her wits “All right, do that, we’ll have beer. In the canse of Mathieu, probably more like brandy, btu hey, should be fun anyway.” He finished his hot dog, then looked at her “Thank you for agreeing to listen to our proposal. It’s appreciated”

[John] She won’t look at him, and that doesn’t strike him as completely aberrant behavior at first, if only because in his experience, most self-preserving Kinfolk won’t look a Modi right in the eye even on a good night. Tonight, compared to how he normally is, is the best anyone can truly hope for: his Rage is diminished, and he is slowed down by an injury that no one but Sarita knows is present. His typical nights are not marked by out-of-control or crazed behavior, yet his mere presence doesn’t crackle with the force of Rage beneath his skin; when John tries to meet her eyes, the realization that she isn’t like the Kinfolk he is used to prodding him in the kidney, she does not feel as though she’s being sized up by a monster.

They’re, all of them, monsters, to a certain extent. It depends on how far removed from their humanity, from their morals, from their people they are. John is grounded. He hasn’t given himself up to despondency and depravity, nor does he seem to have such a thing in him. He sighs, adjusts the fall of his jacket, and taps out another message.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs and nods. “Hey, can’t do any hard by listening. And if all else fails…that’s why I bring a gun.” A little wink. She looks over her shoulder, casually, at Amy and John, watching them for a moment. For all her bluster, the Strider is protective of her sister, that much is very clear. She won’t stop Amunet from doing any fool thing she tries, but she’s always there to catch her if she falls.

[Leon Davenport] He ddin’t tyunr to look at Amy and John, nor did he really want to know what was happening. Amy’s life wasn’t his business after all. Instead, he simply nodded at Sarita’s words, looking straight ahead as he drank from his soda. He was silent for a moment, before he looked again at the beautiful Garou

“How do you like Chicago so far? Amy hate the cold and snow, but how are you handling it?”

[Amunet Trujillo] Her eyes flash dark for a moment when she reads the continuation of the message. Jaw set, she meets his gaze with a practiced ease that can only come from years of holding her own against Garou. Without taking the phone from his hand she reaches to delete everything typed so far, then finally looks away from him long enough to tap out her own message.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, I loathe it.” Her eyes furrow at what she sees before she looks back at Leon, a grin coming back. “I’m a New Mexico girl. All this white frozen water falling from the sky bullshit sucks.”

She gives a little shrug. “Other than that, I like the city though. Good people for the most part, good business. Lots of excitement. What the fuck’s not to like?”

[Amunet Trujillo] Once the message is complete she looks to John again, giving him a sweet smile before turning to head back to the table.

[Leon Davenport] He did raised a brow at her expression when she looked again at Amy and John, he did feel something for Amy after all. Maybe he only cared, or really liked her, or simply wanted or, or whatever but there was something. Still Sarita was Amy’s sister. If Amy was in trouble she wouldn’t be sitting here talking about the city with him, so the young woman was probably fine.

“I have to admit that you’re right about the people. As for ther excitement, I’m too new to the city to be caught with it yet. I expect and I have to admit, hope that things will change.” He say with a smile. He was awarrior after all and he craved action even though he was used to fights in board rooms as much as on a battlefield

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Just go out at night.” She grins again. “You’ll find it. Just make sure you bring your chainsaw.” Said as if it should be expected that everyone just HAS a chainsaw. Because they TOTALLY should.

She looks back at Amy as she comes up. “Hey Ames, remind me by the way. I need to think about getting Harry pimped out. Get the fingerguard taken off.”

[John] Oh, that’s cute.

Maybe she was expecting him to cause a scene, or grab a hold of her arm, try and get her to stay and explain herself. John just laughs that dry, rattling laugh of his, bemused more than anything else, and pockets the phone. He doesn’t cause a scene. Obviously, he can’t yell after her, but unlike last night, John doesn’t go for her, either. She gets several feet as he stands watching her go, appreciating the view but not doing anything to keep her here with him, and then he turns around and steps back out of the restaurant, the night and the snow swallowing him after a few steps.

You win some, you lose some, right?

[Leon Davenport] He chuckled “Guess I should go out and buy one. Though I think I’m handier with a gun than a chainsaw” He finished his soda and looked up at Amy when she get back. “Hey”he say with a slight smile, then leaning back in his seat as he was done eating. He was actually the only one who had eaten out of the four. He now was content to listen to Sarita and Amy chat about whoever Harry is

[Amunet Trujillo] She looks…. hurt. The expression is quickly swept away in favor of a quick, if slightly forced smile.

“Hey.” She nods at Leon first, then Sarita. “Yeah, Sar. That sounds great.”

Not that she has the slightest idea what she’s agreeing to right now.

[John] [Thanks for letting me crash, guys!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[You bet!]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her expression softens just slightly, for a single moment. It goes back to normal quiickly before she scoots over. “Sit you. Your food’s getting cold.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Her head shakes and she leans against the booth rather than sitting, eyes pinned on Leon now. “You ready to get out of here?”

[Leon Davenport] Hesaw that she was hurt, it did stir the Rage inside him some but he kept it under control. When she spoke to him about leave, it did surprise him a little “Yeah, I am”He look at Sarita “I’ll tell Amy when the meeting is”He say to her, since she hadn’t given him a contact number

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She opens her mouth, and then shuts it. She’s a little surprised, the snark taken from her for a moment, but she nods. “Yeah…okay. Amy can give you my number, I guess.” She looks at Amy, watching her for a long moment, and nods to Leon.

“Have a good one.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’ll make sure he’s got it. I’ll talk to you in the morning, hey?” It’s Sarita’s eyes she won’t quite meet now, her expression bordering on apologetic.

[Leon Davenport] He got up, unable to leave if Sarita doesn’t move “It was nice meeting Sarita. Take care of yourself”He say with a look at her injured side “See you on Saturday most likely” He offer her a smile and exit the booth if she let him pass

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, sure.” She says it without really looking at Amy and then gets up, slipping out and making her way for the door. Leon got his farewell already, and one was enough for him in the Strider’s mind. She pushes past a couple people to get to the door and slips out, heading on to her van.

[Leon Davenport] He walked out with Amy, moving past the aptrons “Anything you want to talk about?” He ask, looking at herm zipping his leather jacket. He would’ve asked if she was ok, but obviously, she wasn’t. He took hiscell phone and dialed the operator and got a cab companie number because at 4 am, there were a lot less cabs around

[Amunet Trujillo] “Nope.” Her arm hooks through his as she waits.

[Leon Davenport] He nodded “Ok”He say as he call the caband give them the adress of the Weiner circle “Where would you like to go?”He ask looking at her “Want a ride home or get some privacy and sleep in a hotel room” He said it as if she would be alone in the room, not necesserally with him there.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh, no. We should totally get a room.”

[Leon Davenport] He nodded with a smile “All right” He looked at her while they were waiting, his body close to hers, warm. He was what he was and used to the cold, so his presence could provide her with warmth “So will you come with your sister on saturday?”He ask her, trying to talk about anything but how she feels

[Amunet Trujillo] “Yeah, of course. She can’t be trusted alone” She flashes a quick smile before getting ready to head out into the cold.

[Leon Davenport] He smiled at that “Sounds good” Eventually the cab arrive and they got in. He gave the adress of the bar they were at earlier to get back his car. Then he headed toward the hotel he used ot stay when he arrived in the city, being mostly silent for both rides, unless Amy felt chatty

[Leon Davenport] (night all)

Chainsaw Charlie and the Wolfie Boys

[-dogs of war-] [1. OK, let’s do a quick hunt! 10 min posting rounds. If/when we’re dicing, declare in 2 min. Roll in 2 or I’ll roll for you and/or skip you. If you want to post ICly during combat, keep it to when you’re not actively declaring/rolling, or else keep to the 2-minute deadlines.
2. If you happen to be multitasking, make sure you can keep up with the deadlines. Otherwise, I’ll ask you to stop your other scene.
3. No posting order, but please post ONCE for every post I make unless I say otherwise.
4. Keep track of your own health and tempers.
5. Questions in the chat. Don’t IM me. If I don’t see the question, repeat it until I do. If I don’t respond for minutes on end — I’m probably posting. You should wait, unless it’s absolutely urgent, upon which you should PM me once.
6. PM me your applicable flaws. This includes stuff like nightmares and phobias and hatreds and compulsions!
7. If there are any off-limits themes, imagery or events you do NOT want to see in a scene, PM ’em to me now.
8. I’ll start us off! ]

[-dogs of war-] Last night’s blizzard had hit with such ferocity that the lakeside is shrouded in ice and snow. Even now, with the brunt of the storm past, Grant Park is abandoned. It looks like another world altogether: the lake indistinguishable from the land, the paths buried, the buildings prehistoric dark lumps in the snow, all of it cloaked in white.

Across this surreal landscape comes the unmistakable, equally surreal sound of someone revving up a gasoline chainsaw. And someone else screaming, muffled.

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Why Patrick is anywhere at any given time is like asking why people put cigarettes out on the sidewalk when there’s a rubbish bin two feet away — it just is, and he just is. Right now, the taciturn Fianna Galliard is doing a round of the park grounds with a — surprise, surprise — cigarette between his fingers.

He’d been at one stage watching the fountain, and ignoring the creepy as fuck faces that smiled at random. Everything is white, white, white — and frozen. His breath mists, sounding louder in the quiet. His boots crunch over frozen ground and in the distance — a chainsaw revs.

Someone screams.
Patrick stops, and exhales.

“… the fuck.” Such an eloquent soul.

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Why Patrick is anywhere at any given time is like asking why people put cigarettes out on the sidewalk when there’s a rubbish bin two feet away — it just is, and he just is. Right now, the taciturn Fianna Galliard is doing a round of the park grounds with a — surprise, surprise — cigarette between his fingers.

He’d been at one stage watching the fountain, and ignoring the creepy as fuck faces that smiled at random. Everything is white, white, white — and frozen. His breath mists, sounding louder in the quiet. His boots crunch over frozen ground and in the distance — a chainsaw revs.

Someone screams.
Patrick stops, and exhales.

“… the fuck.” Such an eloquent soul.

[Prayers to Broken Stone] […ahem. ]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She just came from a bar in this general vicinity, and considering what may be coming, it’s probably a good thing that she didn’t drink too much. She is in a semi-pissy mood for some reason or another, and is just making her way into the park for some introspective time. She has a cigarette dangling from one corner of her mouth, having just lit it while walking along the pathways.

And then there’s the metallic rip of a chansaw buzzing in the night. And what should come after every good chainsaw rip…if you’re Leatherface, that is.

Sarita should be surprised. She’s not. She just narrows her eyes, shakes her head, and starts walking toward where sound came from with an exhalation of cigarette smoke into the air.

“Fuck February,” she says, patting her duster where Harry lies. “Stupid bullshit wanna-be month anyway.”

[Burnout] Hunter decided to take a stroll on his way home since the weather had begun to clear. John had been waiting in the car for him and now they walk through the park taking in the eerie white blankets all around them. Cigarette in his hand with his coat pulled tightly around him.

They had found Patrick, talking to him briefly(well hunter did LOL SOZ JOHN) before that chainsaw noise shook through the empty park.

the fuck Patrick says.

The fuck indeed.

“You got any fuckin’ talens on ya’ Patty? John? Fuck it.” He flicks his chin, autobots roll out.

[Simon] Simon was out for whatever stupid reason that honestly made no sense to him. Something something… You should go outside! That is what he said to himself and here he was out and about. Still the boy was smart enough to wear light colored clothing. White hoodie, even white jeans, and a heavy white scarf with a white coat over the top. The surreal wasteland worked well to cover him up in the event he actually had to hide in this all. Simon was out to keep an eye on things as always… His patrols never stopped even if the rest of his pack slept!

His car was a pain in the ass… Luckily there weren’t many out on the streets tonight and so he didn’t have to worry too much about causing an accident. Besides there was no way in hell he was walking in this shit. The main streets were opened, partly, and he was making use of them.

Luckily the muffled sound that accompanies heavy snowfall made it easy to pick out the screams of someone. His car stopped slowly and the sounds of a motor were heard. A familiar sound… The kind of sound that lit the full moon’s eyes up with a hint of glee. Someone brought a chainsaw out to play… Simon found a spot to park his car and immediately stepped out and opened the hatchback and immediately began to rummage through the tools he kept piled in the back.

[Drawn in Blood] Even if he can’t talk, the Modi doesn’t appear as though he’s made too miserable by the fact that it is zero degrees Fahrenheit outside, and the wind slices off even more warmth, and steam is rising from his body as he walks through the park. This isn’t an aberrant weather phenomenon compared to what life further north is like, but considering the freakish storm that had passed through several nights before, it’s still not exactly enjoyable.

So, he’s hunkered down into his jacket as they move through the park, unable to communicate with his hands pushed into his pockets in lieu of suitable gloves. When that scream pierces the night air he looks up, sharply, his nostrils attempting to flare even though they’re practically freezing together every time he inhales. Breathing through his mouth makes his lungs burn.

He’s used to this, but the lack of sunlight makes it near-intolerable.

John?

The Fenrir nods, tersely, and with that flick of his soon-to-be Alpha’s chin, he breaks off running down the treacherous sidewalk in the direction of the scream. It’s too fucking cold for a full-out sprint but this isn’t something to leisurely stroll toward, either.

[-dogs of war-] In the distance — over by the manicured trees, the shaded paths where people walk their dogs on nicer days — the chainsaw revs again, that distinctive coughing, cycling noise.

And then it’s not revving anymore, just roaring. The muffled screaming reaches a fevered pitch of terror. The tenor of the chainsaw changes, becomes wetter — the screaming shifts abruptly into the sort of shrieking, inhuman noise most people never hear in their lives, much less make.

[Burnout] This is not okay, the screaming sounds out again in his head and this time his body is shifting after a quick glance around him. He does it on the move, running through the snow and he stretches down into all fours long before he loses arms in favour of front legs. He lopes in crinos, then in Hispo, then finally in Lupus. Still unsure of who is around, still not willing to risk it.

His head turns to John as he runs along beside him and he let’s out a little snarl. Soak please. Is what it asks, and he holds his mouth open briefly.

They head in the direction of the manicured trees.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Sólo mi maldita suerte…” She breaks into a run, hauling ass that way. She’s not stupid, though…she doesn’t know she’s not alone in heading that way, so she pauses a moment to activate Blur of the Milky Eye (or as she likes to call it, “Predator Mode”) before she heads that way.

[Predator-Mode: Engage]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6 (Failure at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] [wanna try again at +1 diff?]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Always! And WP this time, ’cause she thinks she’s stopping psycho chainsaw men alone as of yet]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 6, 10 (Failure at target 9) [WP]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Fucking February,” she mutters under her breath again, as she can’t get the concentration right and just gives up.

[Drawn in Blood] The scream hits again, this time accompanied by the sound of a chainsaw chewing up flesh, and John nearly wipes the hell out skidding to cut off the walkway and onto the snow-covered lawn. Like the Bone Gnawer, he shifts to a form better suited for covering long distances in snow, morphing through bodies until he hits his wolf skin and runs, quickly but not so quickly as his fleet-footed companion.

A bit of rummaging, and he deposits a small granite wafer stone in Burnout’s maw. It leaves him one from the scant supply of bound Earth Elementals he had commandeered for the journey south. He readies his own, and picks up the pace.

[-1G, +3 soak from talen!]

[-dogs of war-] No go for Sarita. Her body tries to blur, but the spirits slip from her reach, leaving her starkly visible. At least the moon is dark. Her moon.

[Sarita, Burnout and Simon, roll 1d10! Highest roll gets there first. Burnout’s roll counts for himself, DiB and Patrick]

[Burnout] [rollin]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [C’MON KAHSEENO!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Simon] Simon began to whistle to himself as he pulled out a tool suited to the occasion. It was rare he got a chance or reason to make use of the thing so why not? A small gas can was also lifted and gas was poured into the engine. He primed the engine and before long it was wrapped up neatly in a little blanket and gently settled into a duffel bag.

When he is ready he closes the door and begins in the direction of the sound. Taking the time to begin activating Talens!

[-1 G BB, -1 G Soak Talen!]

[Simon] [Rolling!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Prayers to Broken Stone never claimed to be an elegant man.

He hears those noises and there’s a guttural, unnatural snarl. He starts running and leaps over the snowy ground at one point — when he lands, there is no more man — only beast. Huffing, paws pounding heavily against the snowy ground. It flies away from his progress as if blasted by the sheer weight of his on-coming.

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [FYI: Patrick gives not a single fuck and is in Hispo. :D]

[-dogs of war-] It’s the Ragabash, scout and forerunner of the Nation, that makes it to the scene first. She knows she’s near because she can hear the chainsaw coughing and snarling just over the next rise. She can smell the sharp, acid tang of fresh blood. The screaming has died down — a sort of snuffling, sobbing noise now, spiking now and then into a fresh wail.

She can hear another voice, too. It’s a boy. He sounds young, no older than fifteen or sixteen. “C’mon! Make some noise! Don’t fuckin die yet you fuckin pussy. Your sister lasted longer than you. You wanna know what I did to her? Huh? Well, first I —

— what he describes then, and in extreme, gleeful detail, chills the blood.

[Sarita, roll me a percep + alert or percep + PU, whichever is highest, diff 6.

Hunter’s crew, roll the same thing at diff 8.]

[Burnout] [percep+alert dif 8 -2 lupus]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Well, if she’s not gonna be all yautja (that’s the name the Predators have for each other. Shut up, Sarita’s not a geek, and she’ll kick your ass with her steel-toed boots if you suggest otherwise), she’s at least gonna be armed. She pulls out her .44 Colt Anaconda and she approaches the sound of flesh and bone being split like cord wood, pulling the hammer back.

She keeps low as she moves, going as fast as she can without being obvious by yelling or, you know, setting off Piccolo Petes along the way.

[[Both the same, so I say Alertness just because]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [PU+Perception, -2 diff (lupus).]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [Per + Alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [There might be more than that one voice over the hill.]
to Burnout, Drawn in Blood, Prayers to Broken Stone, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [oh fuck the fucking diff, man.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] That’s why they make guns with more than one bullet, she thinks to herself as she approaches. She crouches lower when she gets to the hill, gun at the ready as she comes up and getting a quick look at what she’s shooting at (and how many) before she shoots.

[-dogs of war-] [sarita, roll wits + stealth to stay hidden while peeking!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[SNEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAKY]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [percep counterroll – diff 8 cuz i’m SAWIN AWAY]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 6, 7 (Failure at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] [i’m not sawin’.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [nor i.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 6, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [nor me.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [there are four. one’s got the face of a snotnosed kid and the body of a steroid-pumped bodybuilder. he’s got a chainsaw. the other three are mangy, starved-looking wolves. i’ll probably put better descrips into my pre-init post, but there you go!]
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[-dogs of war-] [whup – pause a sec for me to get a post in!]

[-dogs of war-] It’s not that Sarita’s particularly loud, or clumsy, or inexpert. Quite the opposite. The Ragabash moves smooth as silk as she pops up and over the crest of the hill for a look. She’s just unlucky.

On the other side of the hill, there’s massacre. There’s a body that used to be human tied — with razor wire — to a tree trunk. The tree’s in the way, sparing Sarita from seeing what inevitable gore was wreaked on that unfortunate. Standing in front of him, bare to the waist in this weather, is a kid. At least, he has the face of a kid. Towheaded. Freckled. A little goofy, like some sophomore class clown. That face sits on the towering six-three body of a professional bodybuilder, though, bulging with steroid-driven musculature.

There’s a chainsaw in his right hand. It’s red. There’s a bowie knife in his left. It’s red. His face is red too, his chest, all of it splattered with blood; there’s red all over the ground, exploding outward from the near-dead thing tied to the tree.

And he’s chewing, as though on gum. But it’s not gum. It might be an ear.

Chainsaw Boy’s not alone in that copse of carefully tended trees. He’s attended by a trio of wolves, or what might be wolves. They’re huge, bristling. They’re also so emaciated that their ribs show through their mangy pelts, the points of their shoulders and hips jutting through their winter coat. Two of them are snarling at each other, fighting over a

severed arm

but the third is looking right at Sarita. He sees her. He gives a single, low, powerful bark. The other two drop their toy immediately, heads swinging around to face Sarita, hackles coming slowly up. Chainsaw Boy looks up, too, and his bloody mouth splits into a wide grin.

“Well, damn, baby!” he crows. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve seen this week! Mm-MM! Why don’t you come on down!”

Behind him, the first of the wolves begins to rise to its hind legs, growing as it moves.

[Okay, one more round of reactions! Inits will come at the end of your posts. Hunter et al can be at Sarita’s position by the end of this round, but Simon will need to run for another round to get there.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her eyes widen, and she utters many curses directed at several Catholic saints and gods of capricious luck as she does. Amidst there is a brief “Help me out, Jude” as she takes aim at one of them. Hopefully she can cap one and play hit and run with the rest. That’s just about the only way to play odds like this.

Well, you know, except to get help. But that would be expecting FAR too much from Sarita. She’s more concerned about saving who’s whoever might be alive than silly things like self-preservation. You know who was into self-preservation? Joe McCarthy, Osama bin Laden, Lex Luthor and Satan. Do you want to be like them? Sarita doesn’t. And that’s why she’s not a self-preservationist. Because if you worry about keeping your own life, the terrorists and Satan win.

Somehow, in some way, that made a disturbing amount of logic, but Sarita doesn’t have time to think about that. Instead she just grins and takes aim at the nearest wolf. “Oh, sweetie, trust me. You couldn’t handle me…I play too rough.”

[[Init +6]]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Burnout] Hunter skids to a halt when he starts to hear those noises, smell those scents. Wait up, he wags, hold. The human,or what is most likely human, is still alive. This means the veil, this means he either has to die which he probably will anyway, or.. Well John is here, not a problem.

The other problem is that there are more of them, perhaps many more of them and there’s some animal quality about the others. Nostrils flare, teeth crunch the soak talen that had been given to him and he pauses to think.

I have had it with this shit, let’s break some heads boys.

His body shifts again, a short way up into a bulky Hispo wolf with slavering jaws and feet that dig into snow, compacting it beneath a vastly bigger weight.

You ready?

Green eyes flick between the two then he’s rushing forward to meet Sarita and the abominations.

[-1G +2 soak! -1 WP Resist pain INIT +13]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Prayers to Broken Stone] The Galliard doesn’t speak; his teeth are bared; his gums drawn back at the scents and sights before him. A claw dances in the snow; impatient. Vengeful. He licks his chops, and when the Bone Gnawer speaks, he simply whines in anxious need to be out there. To destroy.

It’s not even a question of Gaia’s War.
It’s what is right, and what is wrong.

They are wrong.
The Fianna will decimate them.

He runs after the others, yapping in exhilaration before he morphs, swarming up into his Hispo form.

[Simon] Simon keeps coming. He fully intends to join this fight… Though he is oblivious to the fact that others are already there he gives a warm and affectionate little smile when he gets into the tree line and lowers himself to set his bag on the floor. Unzipping it… He pulls out the contents. Priming the engine once more to be certain then slowly his form shifts upwards to his war form. With the Chainsaw in hand he begins towards the Scene… The massive black furred creature pushing through the brush and snarling as it races towards the scene of the crime or… Whatever it was. Readying himself for a fight! A violent bloody fight…

Don’t bring a gun to a Chainsaw fight motherfucker… Bring a fuckin’ chainsaw!

[-1 WP Resist pain]

Runrunrun! Through the trees… Leap, dodge, jump, swosh… Gonna get there before all the fun is over…

Somewhere in the distance the sound of another Chainsaw is doubtless heard revving up. More allies perhaps? Or something far far more sinister?

[Drawn in Blood] Drawn in Blood cannot snarl. Fury fills his eyes, golden in this form, and he nearly bristles with the driving need to rush down there and bury his claws in something, but no low growl of warning leaves his throat. He does not slaver or snap his teeth. They are bared, glistening and sharp in the moonlight, and they flash like knives in the darkness as he waits for a cue from the Bone Gnawer beside him.

No one back home would believe him capable of following an urrah into battle. He had this realization the other night: he will not survive in this forsaken city if he practices exclusion based on tribe.

Burnout shifts, the Fiann whines, and the Fenrir, his blood notably pure for being as thick in the End Times as they are, just explodes into his war form, charging into battle alongside the two strangers, whetting his claws on trees and buried stones as they go.

[-1R, activate Razor Claws!
-1WP, activate Resist Pain!
+7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[Drawn in Blood] [HOWARD’S GHOST IS GONNA ROLL FOR PATRICK
+8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[-dogs of war-] War Wolf 1: White Fang +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] War Wolf: Balto +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] War Wolf: Buck +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Failure at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Handler +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] The Handler 17
Hunter 16
Patrick 16
DiB 14
Balto and White Fang 13
Buck 11
Sarita 10

Declares in reverse, please!

[Simon] [Init! +9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[-dogs of war-] [Simon has top inits when he gets here next round!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [1 Rage spent. action 1: shoot a wolf, action 2 run]]

[-dogs of war-] White Fang
1. Bite Patrick
R1. Claw!
R2. Special Maneuver: Dread Howl
R3. Tackle DiB!

Balto
1. Fur Gnarl Burnout
R1. Bite Burnout
R2. Bite again!
R3. Bite DiB while he’s down

Buck:
1. Bite Sarita
R1. Hamstring Sarita
R2. Bite Burnout!
R3. Bite DiB while he’s down!

[Drawn in Blood] [1a:
1b:
R1:
R2: all claws on White Fang, switching to Balto if he goes down.]

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [1a.
1b. Biting on White Fang
R1
R2. Same again! Fianna don’t give a single fuck.]

[Burnout] [1a – spur claws Balto
1b –
1c –
r1 –
r2 – bite white fang switching to balto if he goes down]

[-dogs of war-] Handler
1a. Kill guy on tree
b. saw Burnout!
R1. saw Patrick!
R2. saw DiB!
R3. saw Sarita!

[-dogs of war-] The Gaians bear down, rushing over the hill into that shallow basin full of churned snow, sprayed blood. Almost as one, the tainted wolves grow to meet them — dim, primitive, hungry intelligence in their eyes, snarls of foul challenge spat from their maws.

Their handler isn’t angry. He’s delighted, crowing and laughing, giving that ripcord on his chainsaw a good hard tug not because the tool — the weapon — needs it, but because it’s just fun.

Without batting an eyelash he plunges the chainsaw into the chest of the gurgling, bound man. The tenor snarl of the chainsaw hits a lower, labored pitch as it grinds through meat and bone and organ, into wood. There isn’t even a scream this time. Just fountains of blood, hot, melting snow with soft sizzles. The boy gives a shriek of delight, then wades through the blood to meet the largest and strongest of the wolves on the field.

[1a. KILL!
b. saw burnout, -3 dice. Chainsaws: diff 8 – really unwieldy.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8) Re-rolls: 1

[-dogs of war-] [chainsaw damage: str + 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Burnout] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Burnout] [1a – spur claws on balto -3 split(WP Because this is important)]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]

[Burnout] [dmg ;(((( COME ON KAHSEENO]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [Balto soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 6, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [+2 diff to Balto!]

[Burnout] [1b -4 bite white fang!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Burnout] [dmg+3]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 3, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [WF soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Burnout] [1c -5 bitin again!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Burnout] [dmg+3]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [WF soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [1a. Bite WF! Don’t laugh at my puny totemless stats. -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[-dogs of war-] [WF soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 5, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [Damage + 2]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [1b. RAR.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 6 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[-dogs of war-] [WF soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Damage + 0]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [1a: claw White Fang, -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [+2]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [WF soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [1b: -3, DO NOT FUCK WITH ME TODAY KAHSEENO]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [WF soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [+1 I WILL TAKE YOU OUT BACK AND BEAT YOUR ASS WITH THE WATER HOSE OR SOMETHING IDEK I AM FOR REAL]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] The would-be Alpha charges first, claws swiping at one of the wolves before turning on another. His lunges directs the storm: one after another, his packmates-to-be follow his attack, snapping at the ugly, misshapen beast that had first noticed Sarita.

It’s a tough kill. It takes all three of them biting in tandem, one after another, to finally bring it tottering down to the snow. Even there it growls feebly, paws struggling to move.

The Handler wails — a petulant sound of pure peevishness. “You’re not FUN!” he accuses.

[WF: x_O]

[-dogs of war-] Balto 1: Fur Gnarl on Burnout! 7d10, diff 7
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[-dogs of war-] [Claw Damage str +2. Every succ /2 = -1 soak to gnarled spot.]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [ignore that! fur gnarl fails. +2 diff!]

[-dogs of war-] Buck 1: Bite Sarita!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Autoshift to Crinos]]

[-dogs of war-] [Bite Damage str +3, +3 from suxx]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[GO GO GADGET SOAK]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Gotta change action since I don’t think she can shoot–finger guard don’t fit anymore. Claw time]]

[-dogs of war-] [+1 diff, and go!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[CLAW +1 Diff]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Sorry, Buck]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [{DIE!!!!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [buck soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [Handler: saw patrick!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] [whoops, the 10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7 (Failure at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] [dam +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 6, 6, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Burnout] [R1 bite Balto!]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Burnout] [dmg+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [ack, soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [x_O]

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [R1. RAR bite, uh, that dude that done sawed me. Yeah. -2 Guts Hanging Out.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 10 (Failure at target 5)

[Drawn in Blood] [R1: claw… whoever’s up! Buck! Yeah!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [+2 KAHSEENO WHY DON’T YOU GO BACK TO YOUR HOME ON WHORE ISLAND]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [Buck soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] The second war wolf goes down faster than the first — its throat torn out by the Bone Gnawer, its heavy body puffing powder snow up as it falls.

There’s just one left. He’s barely nicked Sarita; meant to tear her hamstring out. But she’s facing him now, scratching for his throat. His tail hangs low. He gives a single uncertain whine. Then it shifts. Strengthens. The single standing war wolf throws back his head and howls.

[R1 changed: special ability – Rallying Howl. -2 Rage. Each succ/2 restores 1HP to war wolves in earshot. Charisma + Survival roll! +1 diff for action change.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[-dogs of war-] [WF and Balto teeter up to 6Agg!

WF – +1 diff, clawing Patrick — Burnout takes this hit!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 7)

[-dogs of war-] [damage +5]
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Burnout] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [Balto’s biting Burnout at +3 cumulative diff next]

[Burnout] The claws strike down his flank after the two war wolves rise from their twitching half-graves. They look broken, destroyed, utterly ravaged but still they continue. Hunter snarls low and gruff to the two wolves at his side.

The first target! TAKE HIM DOWN! LEAVE THE SPURRED ONE!

[-dogs of war-] [balto, bite!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] [dam +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Burnout] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Claw claw claw clawy claw on Buck. Fucker]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Failure at target 7)

[-dogs of war-] [I’m gonna let Simon join combat now so he doesn’t wait the entire thing out. Declare for R1/R2 (or just R1 if you wanna spend just 1 rage!) — we’ll assume the main action was running]

[Simon] [R1:Chainsaw Chainsaw Man!
R2: Chainsaw Chainsaw Man More!]

[-dogs of war-] [Roll R1, Simon!]

[Simon] [Chainsaw +Wp]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) [WP] Re-rolls: 2

[Simon] [Str+3+4= 15]
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [Handler soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 7, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Handler, R2: Saw DiB!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] [dam]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 6, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Burnout] [Hunter r2 bite buck!]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Burnout] [dmg+2]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [Regen!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] [we’ll save that for end of round]

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [R2 Bite on, uh, the handler! -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [Damage + 2]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [ack! soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [R2: WHITE FANG]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[-dogs of war-]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Drawn in Blood] [*siiiiigh*]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Burnout] [soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [WF: Dread Howl. Succ/2 in damage (soakable) — plus, if you get damaged, you’re deafened and can’t hear commands for a round.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [FUCK YOU WHITE FANG]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Burnout] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [Balto: chomping Burnout next.]

[Simon] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [Soaking the rest of the hits on Burnout!]

[-dogs of war-] [biting at +2 diff!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 7)

[-dogs of war-] [dam +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [You fucking asshole.]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [And Buck: same!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5)

[-dogs of war-] [dam +5]
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [Come at me bro.]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Simon] [Chainsaw Chansaw Man!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Simon] [Str+3+2]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [ack!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [rageback!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] Handler: Frenzied! Drops chainsaw, commences stabbity.

R3. Changed to: Stabbing Simon! +1 diff
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 5)

[-dogs of war-] [dam +5]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Simon] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [roll stamina vs diff 8 as well!]

[Simon]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] WF: R3 – tackle DiB!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [sorry, diff 7 – same succ though]

[-dogs of war-] [dam +4, bashing]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Balto: bite while down! -2 diff, +2 diff from spur claws
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[-dogs of war-] [dam!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [buck’s next action is also to bite while DiB is down]

[Drawn in Blood] [I swear to god Damon if he dies because of Bashing damage again John will haunt your fucking sock drawer.]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [Buck: chomp!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 3)

[Drawn in Blood] [ZOOM]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [dam +5]
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Burnout] [Hunter +13!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Drawn in Blood] [IT IS A GOOD DAY TO DIE
+7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Simon] [Init +9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [Sarita +7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Drawn in Blood] [PATTYCAKES
+8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[-dogs of war-] Shit happens. People die. Then they bounce back up! And more shit happens. And now two of the war wolves are clinging to life; the Handler’s frenzied; Buck’s still doing all right. Not great, but all right.

On the Gaian’s side, Patrick is pretty badly sawed up, but he’s healing. DiB’s kinda nibbled at. Hunter and Simon are scratched. Sarita’s still good.

The fight rages on!

[-dogs of war-] WF +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Buck +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Balto +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5 (Failure at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Handler +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Hunter 21
Simon 18
The Handler 16
Hunter 16
Buck 15
Balto 12
Sarita 11
Patrick 10
WF 10
DiB 9

[Drawn in Blood] John
[1a:
1b:
R1:
R2: all claws on White Fang, then Balto, then Buck. Fuck.]

[-dogs of war-] WF
1a. chomp Sarita!
b. chomp Simon!
R1. chomp DiB!
R2. chomp Burnout!

[Drawn in Blood] Patrick
[1a:
1b:
R1:
R2: same as John.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[1. Grab Buck by head, throw him AT the Handler]]

[-dogs of war-] Buck
1a. chomp burnout!
b. tackle Simon
R1 chomp DiB!
R2 chomp Sarita!

Balto
1a. chomp DiB!
b. chomp Simon!
R1. chomp burnout!
R2. chomp sarita!

[-dogs of war-] Handler
1. knife simon!
R1. knife him again!
R2. knife burnout!
R3. knife DiB!

If Buck actually gets tossed onto him, he may accidentally stab buck a few times.

[Simon] [1a: Reserved for a Chainsaw Parry!
1b: Chainsaw The Handler
1R: Chainsaw TH, Balto, Buck, WF
2R: Chainsaw ” ”
3R: Chainsaw ” “]

[Burnout] [1a – bite WF
1b – bite WF
1c- bite Buck
r1 – bite buck
r2 – bite balto]

[Burnout] [1a -3 bite WF!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Burnout] [dmg+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [rage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Burnout] [1b -4 bite WF]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7 (Failure at target 5)

[Burnout] [1c WHAT -5 bite buck!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Burnout] [dmg+4]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 7, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [buck soaks too!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Simon] [First action reserved for parry straight to second action! -3 dice for split action WP!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 4, 6, 7 (Failure at target 8) [WP]

[-dogs of war-] [handler: knife!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 4) Re-rolls: 3

[Simon] [Chainsaw Parry! -02.000 Dice]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Failure at target 8) Re-rolls: 1

[-dogs of war-] [dam +8]
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 7, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Simon] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Simon] [Staminaz!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] Buck: 1a. chomp burnout! -2
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 10 (Failure at target 5)

[-dogs of war-] b. tackle simon! -3
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[-dogs of war-] dam +2 bashing
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Simon] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Balto: 1a chomp DiB!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[-dogs of war-] dam +2
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [Soakage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] b. chomp simon while he’s down!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 3)

[-dogs of war-] [dam +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Simon] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Simon] [Stay standed]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 9)

[-dogs of war-] [buck: don’t fall!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She reaches out and grips the wolf code-named “Buck” around the head and proceeds to pivot, intending to use her momentum to fling the thing directly into the handler. As she does, she bellows something in High Tongue.

~ht~ “BOOM-LAY, BOOM-LAY BOOM”

Forgive her. Someone’s been watching The Expendables far too much. And been pissed there’s no female member of the team. What the fuck is that shit about anyway? Was Milla Jovovich, Linda Hamilton or the like too busy with their shitty Resident Evil sequels and…whatever Linda Hamilton is doing these days? What about Uma Thurman with some Bride revenge shi–ahem. Sorry. Oh yeah, attack.
[GRAPPLE!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[WP, need 2 to get to 8]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 6 (Botch x 1 at target 9)

[-dogs of war-] [buck’s pretty heavy. bashing damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] Pattycakes
[1a: -4 (first split/4L).]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Drawn in Blood] [+1]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 6, 6, 6, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [WF soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [annnd incap!]

[Drawn in Blood] [1b: -5]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 6 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Drawn in Blood] [+2]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 4, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] balto soaks!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] John
[1a: -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [+2]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [nooo i want to liiive!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [rage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 8)

[Drawn in Blood] [1b: -3]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Drawn in Blood] [+1]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Burnout] [Hunter r1 on balto]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 3

[Burnout] [dmg+3]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [balto soaks]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [er, buck. buck soaked that]

[Simon] [Chainsaw Handler!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Simon] [Str+3]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 8, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Handler
R1 – knife Simon!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 4)

[-dogs of war-] [dam +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Simon] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Buck
1. chomp DiB!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[-dogs of war-] [dam +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [WHAT IS THAT]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] Balto
R1 chomp burnout!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[-dogs of war-] dam
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Burnout] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] here are 3 soaks for wolves, plus one for chainsaw man. i gotta get noms!

wolf soak vs patrick
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] vs DiB
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] vs Burnout’s R2
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] and Handler vs Simon
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Simon] [Chainsaw Handler!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 10 (Failure at target 8) Re-rolls: 1

[Burnout] [R1 bite ]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 7 at target 5)

[Burnout] [that was actually R2+6 dmg]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] Patrick
[R1! -2!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Drawn in Blood] [+2]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON
R2
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Drawn in Blood] [+4]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [hold on!]

[-dogs of war-] Handler R2! stabbity burnout.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 4)

[-dogs of war-] [dam +6]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Burnout] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] buck, chomp sarita!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[-dogs of war-] [dam]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [balto’s also chomping sarita]

[-dogs of war-] [balto’s still at +2 diff]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 4, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[-dogs of war-] [dam]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Burnout] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [dog soaks against pat’s earlier attack]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Simon] [This is the Final Fucking Chainsaw… Only cause if I don’t chainsaw I get +1 Diff anyway so why the fuck not!?!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Failure at target 8)

[-dogs of war-] Hunter 21 – 5Agg
Simon 18 – 2Agg
The Handler 16 – 5Agg
Buck 15 – 5Agg
Sarita 11 – 4Agg 2Bash
Patrick 10 – 4Lethal

[Drawn in Blood] Patrick
[1a:
1b:
1c: OM NOM NOM]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Fuck the fancy shit. 1: CLAW BUCK MOTHERFUCKER!]]

[-dogs of war-] Handler:
1. Stab Simon. QUITE SWIPING AT ME.
R1. Stab again!
R2. And again!

Buck
1a. Bite whoever bites me first
b. bite whoever bites me second!
R1. first guy again!
R2. second guy again!

[Simon] [Okay here’s what I’ma do Handler!

1a: I’ma Bite you to hold your ass still with my Mouth(And kill you a little)!!!
1b: Then I’ma jam the Chainsaw up through your rib cage as I hold you still and dead!!!
1R: Then I’ma throw the Chainsaw and you aside and Claw the living fuck outta anything still standing]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Burnout] [1a
1b
1c
1d
1e – all bites on handler changing to buck if he goes down will spend WP in there because this shit is ridic.]

[Burnout] [1a -5 bite handler]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)

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

[-dogs of war-] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] x_x

[Burnout] [1b -6 bite the buck I WANT MY FUCKIN’ CORNERS]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Burnout] [dmg+5]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-dogs of war-] [Final tally:

White Fang 7A
Buck 7A
Balto 7A
Handler 7A +1 overkill

Hunter 5A
DiB 7A
Patrick 4L
Sarita 4A 2B
Simon 2A]

[-dogs of war-] [I’M TOO TIRED TO WRITE A WRAP! but y’all were great. thanks for participating, and thanks for sticking it through!]

[Drawn in Blood] [THANK YOU DAMON]

[Simon] Simon will make sure everything is alive… And then he will make good use of that chainsaw to get the parts shredded and when they are properly hacked up he will see to it that the bodies are disposed of… With the help of anyone who is standing around…

When the matter is dealt with he will keep the second chainsaw. You never know when you will need two!

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita helps Simon with the body disposal and so on. She’s good-natured, despite being fuckered up, and makes lots of jokes. Until it comes do dealing with the victims, at least. She puts away the humor for that.

[Drawn in Blood] [WAKE UP MODI
PU+Wits I want to fail another roll before bed]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 4)

[-dogs of war-] It should be mentioned:

During cleanup, they might stumble upon more bodies in the snow. Some are decayed; others are frozen so solid they didn’t get a chance to decay. All have been terribly mutilated. They put down a real monster tonight.

[Burnout] A Gaia’s breath to John, just the one and then Hunter waits patiently for the Modi to rise so they can help with clean up. Back to bronze, he might stop on the way and pick up a street walker since his Rage is so low, or maybe a kinfolk or two.

[Drawn in Blood] [WHAT’D I TELL YOU SON]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Drawn in Blood] [+2]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Burnout] [block]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)