{good night}
Denver
downtown is a mess. The mortals, the humans, the ordinary folks, they
don't know. They think it's a mess because Hipsters, or because Obama,
or because the NRA.
The Garou know better. The Theurges have been
working non-stop in shifts since last Thursday to cleans and reclaim
the spiritual side of the city, to shoo and banish spirits of carnage
and pain and horror and to soothe the nicer ones. Or rather the ones
more beneficial to their constant battle against the Wyrm.
It's
dangerous on the streets these days. With the Guardians dead there is
no longer a cavalry to call in case of dangerous doings. Some have
taken it upon themselves to patrol these streets in groups of three or
four or more and more. They form packs, sort of. There is strength in
numbers, they hope.
Hope. Now there's a thing that's been in short supply these days.
The
night is dark, the streets lit only by the pale yellow haze of
streetlamps. This is not LoDo. This is not Uptown. This is not the
Financial District. This is not an area of downtown where the people
crowd the sidewalks as they go from restaurant to bar to club. These
streets are empty, mostly.
Somewhere out of sight, someone is crying.
Keisha Ballard
The
Theurge has had a lot on her plate as of late between helping cleanse
Cold Crescent and soothe spirits, preparing for the moot and...well,
what little sleep she's allowing herself, which doesn't leave a whole
lot of time for 'me time.' So she tries to find a little time here and
there to work in walks or meditation, or even just a cigarette break.
Anything to give her time to catch her breath.
Not too time though. Then she starts thinking.
Anyway,
right now is one of those moments; she's gone out on a bit of a walk. A
little bit of time to clear her mind. And yes, maybe keep an eye out.
She's sure as hell no Guardian, but someone has to do it. She smokes a
hand-rolled cigarette (yes, it actually is only a cigarette in this
case!) as she moves along the sidewalk.
The sound of someone
crying is anathema to the child of Unicorn. The moment she hears it she
pauses, frowning. Standing on the corner of a street, under one of
those street lamps, she looks around and tries to identify the source.
Hector Ghosh
If
they were beyond the epicenter of the scene of the latest affront
against their people he would let her have her space. Out in the wilds
that they both call home now Hector is content to let her go as far as
she wants and he doesn't seem to care how long she's gone because she,
unlike he, doesn't disappear and then come back days later laughing
about how a BSD stronger than three of them put together wiped the floor
with him.
But they're downtown and downtown is a mess even on its
good days. They're here because someone called a war moot and driving
back and forth is a pain right in the neck. There's reconnaissance and
patrolling they can do to help the decimated ranks here in the city even
if the Spire-Sept isn't exactly near to their hearts like the Caern is.
So
they're in the miasma of human stink and trouble and Hector holds
Lola's hand. It isn't the idle physicality of a smitten young idiot or
the possessive clutching of a meathead. It's more for his sake. If he
gets yanked down an open manhole by a tentacle monster or something she
won't know until it's too late.
And then the crying starts.
"KEISHA!" he hollers when he sees the braids and senses the Rage from down the block. "THAT YOU, GIRL?"
Lola Hawkes
Lola
had spent the night in the city last night, and it put her in a bit of a
sour mood. She was no Wolf, no, but she was precisely as territorial
as one when it came to The Homestead and the land that the Hawkes family
has been guarding for generations. That was her purpose here on earth,
or at least it was what she was born to do. She was a part of a long
line of Guardians of the Sept of Forgotten Questions, and so for the
past few years since her parents had passed and her sister had left for
adventures with her pack, Lola had taken up the mantle of Protector of
the Bawn and put it upon herself to do patrols on a daily basis.
But
then Cold Crescent virtually fell apart. It was eaten from the inside,
Guardians and well-ranked Garou turning on one another and tearing each
other to ribbons. It was traumatic, and those who witnessed the event
were still shellshocked by the experience. Lola wasn't there, she had
no reason to be, but she came when the Warmoot was called and was sure
to be present for that.
Hector had a point-- they should stay.
This was where people were needed, where the action was happening. Lola
was uncomfortable with the idea, she said it seemed likely that this
notorious Spiral Pack would attack Forgotten Questions while people were
focused on Cold Crescent, and that was unforgivable because Forgotten
Questions was a real Caern. It had Gaia's essence i its heart, and that was so much more precious and something to be concerned about.
But
this was a Sept none the less, and this was the problem that needed
addressing. After all, Forgotten Questions had its Guardians, and they
would keep the place safe. Eddie promised to make sure The Homestead
went untouched for her, so Lola relented and got a motel room to stay in
for now.
Tonight she was out with Hector, fingers laced through
his while they walked hand in hand. It was for the sake of company, for
puppy-dog romance to the world looking in on the Hispanic-looking young
woman and Indian-loking young man. Hector held onto her to make sure
they didn't get pulled apart by monsters, though, and Lola held on to
him because it helped soothe her nerves. Being away from home put her
on edge.
That's probably why she half-flinched, half-startled when
Hector bellowed after Keisha. Looking displeased with herself for
reacting in such a way, Lola pulled her hand free from Hector's so that
she could tighten the ponytail her dense black hair was tied into.
"At
least we found someone," she commented vaguely, distracted almost right
away by the sound of crying she picked up once Hector's yell stopped
ringing in her ears.
{good night}
There are a few
people on the street now, alone - smoking - or in a pair - holding hands
unlike lovers. It's quiet, but for that crying. Perhaps it is some
homeless urchin, crying from hunger or from pain or from
god-why-does-life-suck.
Somewhere else someone coughs. A shadow
breaks off from a wall to meet with another figure and together they
walk down the main street. The crying continues.
Until, that is, a
youthful voice shatters the silence. A Galliard calls out to a Theurge
and the world stops to listen. The street falls silent.
Then:
Footsteps. Light ones, shuffling ones. Something is coming closer,
something small maybe, and oh, yes. Yes the maker of those steps is
quite small.
It's a child. A boy child. His skin is darker than
Keisha's, his eyes large and watery, his small nose broad and leaking
snot profusely. His hair is a tangled dark corona around his small
head, and he is filthy. Street child, it would seem, kid lost to the
streets because his parents were or because his parents died and no one
claimed him.
He appears in a nearby alley, little body half hidden
by a building as he peers outside. His hand comes up and swipes at his
nose, smearing his face.
Keisha Ballard
Where
Lola flinches when Hector shouts, Keisha jumps and spins around, tense
and about to bring her Iskakku staff to the ready. She's tenser than
the moon or her low Rage would imply; trigger-shy ever since The Incident. She relaxes before she gets into a defensive position though, and instead just sighs a bit and raises a hand to wave.
"Hey
Hector." She puts on a smile, tired and restrained but friendly
enough. She doesn't know Lola, hasn't met her. But the smile is
extended to her two; Still Waters isn't exclusive or stingy with her
welcoming gestures and expressions. "No, it wasn't me. Do you guys
see..."
And that's when she trails off, because she hears the
footsteps. She turns and looks, seeing the small boy that is upset,
scared and apparently lost. What we have right here is like
Keisha-catnip, ladies and gentlement. Except for instead of her wanting
to play around with it, she wants to make it better. That's what she
does, on her best days.
She looks back at the Garou and kin for a
moment, brow furrowed questioningly in response to the child's approach,
and then looks back and smiles to the boy. She lowers down to a
crouch, her staff gently set on the sidewalk next to her. Still in
reach, but unthreateningly.
"Hey there," she says with a
sympathetic look, voice gentle. "What's wrong? You can come out
here...I'm not gonna hurt you. Promise."
[[Activating Persuasion!]]
Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (1, 1, 6, 9) ( success x 1 )
Hector Ghosh
"Yeeeah..."
He
doesn't sound like Lola's words offer much consolation. Not that he
isn't happy to see Keisha upright and with all her organs intact but
there's still crying going on and his joke lost its potency traveling
across the distance as it had to.
As her hands work at tightening
the band keeping her hair out of her face he throws a glance back over
his shoulder. His eyes dart over her form but not out of lascivious
appreciation. He wants to make sure she's got her sidearm on her if
nothing else.
And then the child appears and whatever else Hector
was about to say dies in his throat. Given his age and his pesky Y
chromosome and his cumbersome Rage one would think he wouldn't know his
ass from his elbow when it comes to dealing with children but he doesn't
careen away from it like it's got something he can catch.
He doesn't rush at it either, though. He's an Uktena. They're notorious for being paranoid.
"Where's his mom?" he asks from the safety of his place behind the Gaian.
Lola Hawkes
The
pair of Uktena regard the child in a very similar way-- with caution.
The Child of Gaia, of course, bends her knee and coos to it, calls out
that it will be okay and makes an effort to soothe the poor wretch's
suffering. Lola and Hector, on the other hand, are more concerned with
what might come following after the kid.
Hector had skimmed his
eyes down Lola's side when she lifted her arms, and his hunt was
rewarded by the flash of that big heavy revolver she typically kept in
her truck being strapped to her side, visible for a moment when she
lifted her arms because it pulled back the button-up shirt she was
wearing. The button-up was a thin cotton thing in light blue tones,
with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and the buttons undone, with the
front flaps of the shirt tied into a knot in front of her navel. Under
that she had a simple white tank-top, and a pair of khaki shorts adorned
her legs. It was August, and of course the day was hot, so shorts were
opted for over jeans. Comfortable sneakers were on her feet, though.
She knew there would be a lot of walking, and expected that she might
need to take off running at the drop of a hat with the way things have
been going in this city these days.
Her sidearm was kept for the
same reason that she wore sneakers instead of sandals. Her permit was
in the back pocket of her shorts, just in case.
Hector queried
about the little boy's mom, and Lola spoke quietly with her arms folded
over her chest, walking to Hector's other side behind Keisha and leaning
to peer up the alley that the little black child was leaning out of.
"Probably nowhere near here..."
She should introduce herself to
Keisha, but the Gaian was busy. There would be time for that later.
Instead, their introductions to one another had to settle for a nod
exchanged between the two women that would be made up for after this
business with the crying boy was settled.
{good night}
Keisha
sees the child and her instincts kick in. She wants to help. Even
though she's tired, she's feeling drained emotionally from all the shit
she's dealt with, she drops to a nonthreatening crouch, and she sets her
staff on the ground nonthreateningly.
Meanwhile the Uktena are
cautious. They stand behind the Theurge, using her body as a shield to
protect them from the child, or from the alley, or from whatever might
come following it. Nothing follows it, though.
The alley is
empty. There's a dumpster there, some free floating trashing, some
puddles of dubious content. There are offshoots, narrow passages
between the four, five, however many buildings line the street to the
other side. The alley itself is lit by a single light that flickers up
above them.
The kid is still crying. Little face all screwed up,
he shuffles a little closer to Keisha, but stops when Hector asks after
his mom. The kid hiccups a little and looks up at him.
Probably nowhere near here... says Lola, and the wails begin again. The little kid, he turns his body and he looks back down the alley. And he points.
[percept+PU, normal diff, please]
Keisha Ballard
[[Per+PU]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Hector Ghosh
[WHEE]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 8) ( success x 1 )
Lola Hawkes
[Perception: 3]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 7) ( success x 1 )
{good night}
[For the 1 suxx:
The kid smells bad. Not just filth and garbage and human waste and stale urine bad, but bad. Off. They can't quite put their finger on what it is exactly that's wrong, but to the Uktena it is quite unsettling.]
Keisha Ballard
And
just like that, as her nostrils flare slightly, tension swells back
into her frame. Hector and Lola may notice the slight drawing back of
her shoulders, the clench of her neck, the way her hand strays vaguely
toward the wooden staff on the ground next to her. She flicks her gaze
to the alleyway, intent eyes sizing it up. Her lower lip gets caught
inbetween her canines. Signs that something clearly isn't right here.
She has an idea. She's hoping the idea is wrong, but she somehow doubts it. She's not that lucky these days (clearly).
She
slowly, carefully rises to her feet, picking up the staff as she does.
"Sweetie," she says to the boy who may not be just a boy (please be just a boy).
"I need you to get back from the alleyway, okay? We're gonna check it
out." She starts to approach, not rushing. Her voice, empowered by her
Gift, takes on even more mellow tones, urging the kid: relax. It's
okay.
"Is your mom in there?" She moves to get close enough that she can possibly see, though she stops if the boy doesn't back away.
Hector Ghosh
He
takes in the snot and the unkempt hair and the dirt on his skin but
that isn't what has Hector tensing beside Lola. The last time he tensed
up like this a spindly stupid-eyed creature was shambling across an
otherwise empty park towards them and then the guy tried to bite through
his windpipe. Lola had asked him if she ought to grab her gun.
That's another story he has to tell at this month's moot.
This
story hasn't happened yet and he's staring wide-eyed into the alleyway
not from fear or from the jangling quality of the kid's crying but from
uncertainty. That first leap off a cliff knowing that the water lies
below but not what lurks beneath it would have him hesitate just the
same. They aren't in Mexico or Southern California. The wind isn't in
his hair. He has it yanked back expecting they would run into trouble
tonight.
If they get some he's going to be the first one in.
Hector grips his kinswoman's shoulder as he steps around her and he
glances to Keisha before he steps closer. He keeps to the edge of the
alleyway but if he scares the boy, he scares the boy.
"Keep talking to him," Hector says low to the pacifist healer as he passes.
Lola Hawkes
Born
Kinfolk, Lola didn't know what it was to lean heavily on scent as a
reliable source of information. Not because she doubted that it would
carry useful information for her-- quite the contrary, really. It's
just that a human nose is weak, and it can't pick up all of the details
that a wolf's nose can.
All the same, though, she's able to sense
that there's something off about the way the little boy's filth-stink
fills her nostrils. Lola couldn't see anything up the alley, so she
shifted her gaze down to the little boy who was pointing up the
alleyway, supposedly indicating that either his mother was up that way,
or that whatever was bothering him and making him cry was up that way
instead.
Her lips parted to say something, but she paused when
Hector's hand squeezed her shoulder and the rest of him moved to pass
her. He was making his way to the mouth of the alley, finding the best
way to go in without walking up a corridor of traps and ambushes. The
Kinfolk pressed her lips together, but didn't say anything to stop him.
Something was off, after all. She could sense it. There was more to
this than just some poor kid left out on the streets with no one to care
for him.
She didn't reach for her sidearm just yet. She was
still out on the sidewalk still, after all. So instead Lola fidgeted.
Her weight shifted from foot to foot every dozen seconds or so, and her
thumbs hooked into the empty belt loops of the shorts she was wearing.
She was glancing around, making sure nothing came up behind her and
Keisha's shoulders, but her attention kept gravitating back to the
alley. She was apparently waiting for something to come thundering
through it like the boulder from Temple of Doom.
{good night}
Hector
steps forward, intending to be the man on point, the leader, the Alpha
of this little soiree. The mantle of leadership may fit him awkwardly -
it was made for someone else and he, Hector, is still trying to figure
out how to get it tailored to his tall skinny frame - but he doesn't
shirk it. He doesn't take it off and stuff it in a corner and try to
forget about it. He's a good young man, is Hector. If he survives this
city he may just get to be remembered as just 'a good man.'
Lola
stays back on the sidewalk, guarding their backs. Guarding the child a
little, but mostly her friend and the Theurge. The sidewalk is empty
here, the streets dark and deserted. There is something in the air that
makes the mortals know that they should stay away from this place, a
something that makes Kin and Garou go rushing in. Not that they're
rushing in this case, but, you know.
Keisha rises and the boy,
poor little filthy crying street child, looks up at her through eyes
blinded by tears, and he trusts her. He trusts that everything is going
to be okay. He trusts that this woman, this stranger with the really
big stick, she's going to make everything okay again. He will be with
his Mama again, who makes everything a little better, even when the bad
men come. She makes sitting on the street corner holding a sign he
can't even read better. She makes garbage cuisine taste a little
better.
Yes. Yes. He will have that again soon. He nods to
Keisha, silent for his crying and his sniffles and his sobs, because yes
his mother is in there.
Except...
Hector steps into the
alleyway first, leading the way. There are not trip wires, no false
steps, no hidden traps. He makes his way unimpeded with Keisha at his
back, because she knows. She knows because she's been made Witness -
perhaps accomplice? - to the machinations of the Wyrm. They go in
together.
And as they go the stench gets worse and worse. Even in
a form with weaker senses they can almost see the trail left by the
child. If they could actually see it it would be a sickly greenish
yellow-grey, the color of decay, and death, and terrible things. The
smell gets stronger, and it smells like death. It smells like decay.
It smells like bodies left to the flies for days and days and days and
days. As they near they hear something, too, something so soft and so
gentle they never would have heard it unless they let themselves get
this close.
It's a rustling. The alleyway is quiet otherwise.
[percept+alert from those in the alley (or from Lola at diff 10)]
Keisha Ballard
[[Per+Alert, spec Uncanny Instincts]]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )
Hector Ghosh
[fuck me sideways]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )
Lola Hawkes
[Perception 3 + Alertness 2 -- because why not try?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN10 (3, 4, 6, 7, 9) ( fail )
Keisha Ballard
You know, it seems like a quiet night, she'd thought to herself. I need to give my spirit a rest. Why not a little walk? It'll be short, I'll be fine. Can't get into that much trouble.
That's what she'd thought before she went on her walk. Now, she's thinking: Oh Keisha. Why must you tempt the fates? Oh, and also her personal favorite that's becoming a catchphrase:
"Oh, fuck me."
She
takes up a defensive stance and steps to the side if the alley permits,
so she's side-by-side with the Uktena Galliard instead of hiding behind
him. She holds the staff in one hand at her hip, the other end
pointing toward the end of the alleyway. "Did you year the feathers
too," she says as an aside to Hector. And the...rending?"
This
might need more than the staff. And she focuses her spiritual energy
for a moment, centers it and directs it to empower her body to suit her
all-important vow.
[[Gnosis point dropped into Mercy.]]
Hector Ghosh
Oh, fuck me.
"I mean, I would, but..."
Once
he realizes the Gaian is following him he keeps an arm out in front of
her the way drivers who grew up without seatbelts in their vehicles grew
used to protecting their passengers in the event of a sudden stop. Like
the human elbow is a better restraint than a belt and a buckle. Then he
realizes she intends to walk beside him and he sighs and lets his arm
drop.
At the question of the feathers he counters with: "Where's
it coming from? All I heard was something rustling." Sigh. "If we have
to kill that kid tonight I'm going to be seriously put out."
Lola Hawkes
The
two Garou went ahead, and Lola was left at the mouth of the alleyway
looking in, with the urchin child hovering on the sidewalk nearby. The
kinfolk didn't offer him a hug or any other sort of comfort. If
anything, she looked put-off by the presence of the smear-faced little
boy. She didn't like the odd smell that she couldn't place coming off
of him. It wasn't blood, she knew that smell. It wasn't urine, because
that stink was there too. This was something else, and she was
unsettled by the fact that she couldn't identify it.
So, instead,
she watched Hector and Keisha. Her fingertips scratched quietly at the
fabric of her shorts, and she leaned forward and called in a low, hushed
voice:
"I want to help. Let me."
The silent plea behind it was:
Don't leave me out here with this weird kid. I don't want to babysit Damien.
Keisha Ballard
"Yeah,
that won't be happening," she says when Hector quips about killing the
kid. Hey, she is who she is and she's got that one rule, after all.
She's been rather fortunate that she hasn't had to butt heads over it
to date, but it may happen here. If it does, she'll deal with that.
She
looks back at Lola a moment, and at the kid. "Sweetie, you need to
stay back a bit, okay?" She flashes a smile that may be pointless or
may be giving some warmth to a monster, but they aren't sure yet. Off
doesn't always mean evil, or that he's the source; rather, the residue.
She shrugs a bit to Lola, as if to say 'sorry' and then looks forward,
slowly advancing with the staff at the ready.
"From ahead. And there were a lot of feathers. Several wings' worth, I'd say."
Hector Ghosh
Hector
has made far fewer jokes about Lola's stolen birthright since he came
back from Canada with three of his packmates missing and the other one
straggling along behind but the fact remains that she's as deadly with
her weapon as Hector is with his claws. Leaving her in the alleyway
wasn't a choice he made. He thought Keisha the Child of Gaia would want
to stay behind with the kid just in case something gnarly threw
themselves out of the alley at them.
Having her at his side while
his kinswoman stays behind doesn't set right with him and when he hears
her voice Hector stops and turns to look back at her. A shrug from
Keisha and Hector reaches his hand back behind him, repeating a
pointless grabbing motion like he's trying to telekinetically pull Lola
after them. He stops when she moves of her own volition and then turns
and continues moving along with Keisha.
"What, straight ahead?" he asks. "Let's get this over with."
Fog
would be so proud of him. He starts slinking along faster than Keisha
decided to move. Either he's going to make beautiful music with the
shadows around them or he's going to kick over a can and break a window
and bring the entire flock of wyrm-gulls down on their heads.
[dex + stealth: GHOSTING. +1 stealth bc fog.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 6, 9, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
Lola Hawkes
Keisha
shrugged at Lola but reminded the child to stay put. Hector motioned
for her to come along with. It might come across as rather odd to
Keisha that the Kinswoman seemed to have some weight lifted off her
shoulders when she was invited to join the frey. Most Kinfolk were
smart enough to stay out of the line of battle. Most female Kinfolk
especially would glue themselves to the child and make sure that it was
protected. That's what Kinfolk did, right? They tended the young, they
looked after their Garou, and they kept themselves from getting killed.
Lola
sounded almost relieved when she got to look at the kid and say: "You
heard the lady. Just stay here, alright? We'll take care of whatever's
up that way that made'ja cry."
Her voice was low, her tone was
rough, but at least there was some heart behind what she told the little
boy. She didn't know if he was evil or a victim, and in this exact
moment she didn't trust him anymore than she trusted what was up that
alley. But on the off chance that he really was just some kid that
found the short end of the stick way too young in life, she at least
wanted to impress upon him that they were the Good Guys, and that he
didn't need to cry for them.
So Lola left the little guy, hoping
that he'd stay there and not jump onto her back to bite at her neck the
instant she had it turned. The big revolver was taken from its holster
along her left flank, and the safety was switched off while she walked
forward, careful to stay nearer to the wall, careful that the soft
rubber soles of her sneakers were gentle on the ground.
[Dexterity 3 + Stealth 2]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 7, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )
{good night}
The
kid does stay behind. They don't know if they can trust this
child-shaped-creature, if it really is a kid or if it's a
monster-in-kid-skin waiting to lure them into a trap. But when Keisha
smiles back at him, he looks back at her from the mouth of the alley,
his eyes all big, but his tears have slowed and they slow a little
more. He sniffs, and he looks up at the girl who was left behind with
him, not like he's some terrible toothy creature considering eating her,
but thinking that about her. He doesn't know her, doesn't know if he
can trust her like the lady with the stick, even though she says what he
hopes the other will do. Make things right. Make things okay.
Luckily,
Lola doesn't stay with him for much longer. She leans in, calls out,
gets invited to join the party in the alleyway just before Hector finds a
patch of shadow and disappears into it. He places his feet carefully,
silently, missing cans and other debris. He is become a ghost in the
night.
He creeps ahead of the others, past the first offshoot on
the right and the first on the left, buildings for shops or a cafe or
something. Then he gets to the second offshoot to the right. And when
he pauses to peer around the corner, oh, what a sight he sees, and then
Keisha, and then Lola creeping up all ghostlike to stand with them.
The
offshoot isn't so narrow as some. It's about as wide as Hector is
tall, multipled by two. It's space enough for a large dumpster set out
beside someone's back door. It's large enough for a homeless person to
make a little nest for themselves and for their child. It looks like
maybe possibly perhaps that's what happened.
Death hits them as soon as they reach that corner, the scent so powerfully pungeant it's nearly a physical presence.
In
one corner there's shopping cart, old and metal-wired and full of
blankets and trash cans full of bottles and cans and things. On the
ground between the wall and the dumpster there is a pile of boxes
littered with papers. And on top of that pile there is a body. Or what
they can see of a body. They can see extremities, hands and feet,
sticking out from beneath a writhing black mass, moving like living
shadow only not so quiet.
Birds. Lots and lots and lots of
birds. Wings rustle as more birds, as they jostle for position around a
body that was probably obviously female until a little while ago. One
lands on an outstretched hand, lowers its beak, and tears off a strip of
flesh that pulls the whole finger off from its joint. It looks up, but
not at Lola or Keisha or Hector. It looks up and out at the mouth of
the alley, unconcerned with living things, a finger hanging loosely from
its wet black beak. The Gaians might expect the creature to blink
beady little black eyes, but it doesn't. It blinks nothing because it
has nothing to blink. None of these things has eyes to see, because
they don't need eyes to see to do what they do.
Strip the flesh of
the dead. Except there are more in this place than there ever would
have been a week ago, before Champion of Honor corrupted the Guardians
and flooded the area with spirits of carnage and disaster.
Hector Ghosh
[int + occult!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 5, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Keisha Ballard
[[Int+Occult]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Lola Hawkes
[Intelligence 2 + Occult 2]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )
{good night}
There
are spirits that travel the umbra. Like their material counterparts,
they clean in their own way. They pick clean the carcasses of the dead,
of the trophies left on poles or the bodies left behind because no one
could or no one knew to search for them.
There are more here than
there should be for one scrawny homeless woman. There are more of these
all over the place since carnage and corruption sullied the top level
of 1999 Broadway. They are stronger than they should be, strong enough
to ride and mutate their material counterparts so that they can clean up
this side, too.
Keisha Ballard
It'll be okay, she
said. She kind of knew it wasn't going to be. She hoped, but Keisha
isn't always as naive and out of touch with reality as she seems.
There's a difference between hoping and believing. She doesn't have
that much optimism to spare lately. And she is definitely not going to
be able to make his mother all right.
She sighs though. This,
she can fix. She raises a hand to her temple, looking tired. She's
not, really...no more than she was a moment before...but it's another
cleansing added to the pile of dozens, if not more, that she's done this
week. All because of Champion of Honor. Which, indirectly, is because
of her. She didn't fix it; she caused it.
"I need to run and get my cleansing branch from the car, it's not far." She says it to Hector. "Be right back."
Hector Ghosh
"Keisha."
Hold up
says his tone. He's staring at the ravens and the comprehension of
their purpose has his voice gone hollow like to fit the reason behind
their appearance. They have no eyes and they don't need them and they
aren't interested only in flesh. This area doesn't offer much in the way
of flesh.
"I can do it."
His connection to the spirit world
is just as strong as hers and he has not drained himself night after
night in service to this sinkhole of a sept. His tribe was here before
hers was. His ancestors light themselves in his eyes sometimes and he
can see the rolling plains before the cities went up and he can see the
sun instead of war painting the sands red. His ancestors are angry
motherfuckers but he is peaceful despite the preternatural anger inside
him.
"You want to do me a solid, you can talk Lola out of taking that kid home with us."
Lola Hawkes
"Well,
I'm sure glad you two worked this out," Lola muttered quietly. The
birds-- these big mutants without eyes feasting on the corpse of what
was probably that kid's mother-- seemed to look right past them, but
Lola was still on edge. She was quiet, gentle in her movements. She
didn't want to startle up the flock or provoke them to attack.
The woman was long gone. Let them have their meal.
"Because I don't have nearly enough bullets for this," the thought concluded.
Keisha
said she would cleanse the place, but Hector offered to do it for her
instead. The Theurge did appear wary, worn to the bone. Lola would've
advised her to go find someplace to lay her head for the night if they
weren't in the middle of a situation. So, instead, she thumps her elbow
against Hector's ribs for the jibe he made about taking the kid home
with her. "Ain't taking that kid anywhere but to a shelter," she said
resolutely.
Then, to Keisha: "You might wanna go get your stuff anyways. This job might be too big for just one of you."
Keisha Ballard
"I'll
take him to a shelter tomorrow," she says quietly, nodding as Lola
suggests the idea of the two of them working in concert. "Someone needs
to talk him out of breaking the V-word."
That's something she can
do to fix this. The last thing they need is the kid talking to
psychologist and cops about how eyeless crows ate his mom until the nice
staff lady, the woman with the gun and the incredibly sneaky guy waved
their sticks around with water and made them go away. She gives the kid
a small, false smile and touches his shoulder as she hoofs it to get
her tools.
Lola Hawkes
"Breaking his what? His
V-card? He's like six years old, you freak, you don't need to talk to
him about any of that." Lola called this in a low voice that's
semi-joking as the Child of Gaia turned and hurried up out of the
alleyway to retrieve her cleansing kit.
With Keisha out of the
alleyway, passing the child and going to wherever her car was parked,
Lola and Hector were left to watch the writhing mess of feathers and
flapping wings crowding the body. Carnage didn't squick the Kinswoman
out. This was the stuff that she was prepared through most of her youth
to see.
Still, though, she frowned and kept herself relatively
near to the Galliard's side. She could excuse the desire for proximity
on wanting to keep her voice down later (although she probably wouldn't
be challenged for the decision to hover near Hector's side at all).
"It's
bad news. I don't like this-- spirits coming over across the Gauntlet
here in the middle of the city. If this isn't the only instance of this
happening we're straight fucked. We can't contain all of this, and
normal people will start to notice."
Hector Ghosh
Of
all the places to hit Hector when he's acting up the ribs are the
easiest and the most difficult to defend. He has the reflexes of a
jungle cat and can weave away from the blow before it lands. It keeps
her elbow from catching him right in the intercostals. The scene before
them what it is he does not try to retaliate.
Lola hasn't seen
that distant look in his eye before, like he's retracing the path that
brought the ravens here. Like he's maybe been there before. The rite
requires a willow branch and he can't exactly carry one around with him
all the time. He has to wait for Keisha to go and come back anyway and
in the meantime he never loses awareness of the fact that Lola is beside
him.
When she says she doesn't like this he breathes out heavy
and puts an arm around her shoulder. This time it isn't to keep a tether
to the world so someone will notice if he's plucked off. If she'll let
him he tucks her in against his side. It looks comradely enough from the
back.
"I know." His voice is near as distant as his eyes. He's thinking. That may or may not be a bad sign.
Lola Hawkes
She
lets him. Hell, she even goes so far as to wrap an arm around his
waist in return and turn her body so she tucked more comfortably, more
naturally against his side.
He says he knows, and that's all the
answer she gets for now. She accepts it, and waits quietly for Keisha
to return. When she does come back, this is likely how she'll find the
pair-- Hector vaguely distant, tracing paths and opening doors in his
own mind, and Lola warily watching the birds, glancing above
occasionally to make sure nothing bigger and badder was going to swoop
down at them.
Keisha Ballard
She really isn't
parked that far, as it turns out; yes indeedy, our little peacemonger
was all of about half a block into her nice, long, relaxing walk when
our nightly adventure hit her. Add another half a block for the street
corner to the alley, factor in that she's running there and back, in
case those birds decide to get expansive. So it doesn't take her much
longer than a minute or so until she's back, holding a liter bottle of
purified water her second-favorite piece of wood. (Oh, get yer mind out
of the gutter.)
She stops on the way back, just at the edge of
the alley and kneels again, facing the boy. "Honey, we have to fix
things. And then I'm gonna take you to get something to eat and we're
gonna talk. It's gonna be okay, okay?"
Hopefully he believes her,
or at least doesn't run off. She squeezes his shoulder and rises,
heading into the alleyway. "Okay, let's do this."
Hector Ghosh
[char + rituals]
Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (3, 6, 6, 7) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Keisha Ballard
[[Cha+Rituals for Cleansing, WP]]
Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
{good night}
The
kid's name is William but everyone calls him Billy. He's lived on the
streets for as long as he can remember, which isn't long. He's not even
five yet. He knows death already, he's seen it somewhere else. A
grizzled old man "sleeping" on a bench on the 16th Street Mall only his
chest isn't moving and his eyelids aren't fluttering. His mama did the
same earlier this evening. She sat down on their nest, she closed her
eyes, and with a rattling breath she relaxed into oblivion. That's what
happens when sickness settles into the lungs and there's no chance of
healing.
Then the birds came.
Those birds, those strange
unearthly birds. The ones with no eyes and who make hardly any sound.
They swarm on the body now, ripping and feasting and clearing away the
dead on this side instead of the other. The Theurges of the city are
doing what they can, cleansing and banishing and soothing. Keisha
knows. She and her sisters have been working nonstop since Thursday, or
mostly nonstop. They pause for walks, for sleep, for food. Then they
get up and they do it again. But there is just. so. much.
Sometimes spirits slip through the cracks. They slip through and they do what they would do on the other side.
Keisha
returns with water and branch and says a few comforting words to the
little boy Billy. He nods at her, thinking she's going to fix it, she's
going to make Mama get back up again, gonna make everything right.
She'll make it right, but not that way. He stays out of the way,
though.
Let's do this.
The wand and water go to
Hector and the wolves step out. They approach the birds that continue
to feast, who pause only to tip their heads up in their direction, but
Keisha and Hector aren't dead so what do they care. There is a body,
the dead to eat, om nom nom.
They have to modify this ritual for the city. They can't shift, not with a little kid sitting right over there
watching them with huge, watery eyes. They can't howl here because
even if people thought they heard dogs, who hears dogs in the middle of
the city?
They make their adjustments, though, they flick the
water and they do what they have to do to shoo those pesky spirits out
of here. Light shimmers on the flock. Some of the birds become mere
birds again, with beady little eyes and bellies full of food. They
notice the presence of humans and Rage and they take flight. The rest
vanish, too bound to their spirit riders to have a life on this side
anymore. They disappear and they leave behind a body split open and
picked apart.
And a different kind of cleanup is needed.
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