Thomas Delacroix
Thomas is lounging, a little out of
the way of the main path, seemingly fascinated by a sculpture of
sweeping curves and watchful eyes. There is a sculpture of similar
materials, by the same artist, but the sharp, cold lines of that one
don't appear to merit his attention. He's dressed casually, gray
tee-shirt, blue jeans, hiking boots; and were it not for the
undercurrent of energy that threatens to spill out from under his skin
and into sudden, unpredictable action he'd be easy enough to overlook.
He
looks away from the sculpture only once every other minute or so, scans
the crowd for any disturbances (that are not him), and then returns his
attention to the sculpture.
[His specific sculpture of interest is this one: http://ts2.mm.bing.net/th?id=H.4791024215788005&pid=15.1]
Hector Ghosh
[dex + stealth + fog: sneaking into a museum aw yeah]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )
Hector Ghosh
Nobody
particularly cares if some stoner-looking kid decides he wants to
stroll past the ticket counter without coughing up twelve bucks and
change and submitting his wrist to a neon paper bracelet but by god,
he's Uktena! He's a child of Fog! He's broke!
So he sneaks in.
Thomas
may be the first person to see him because by the time he gets that
deep into the gardens he's decided the coast is clear and he can stop
skulking from shadow to tall tropical tree and just walk like a normal
person. So out of the shadows he steps all light-footed and whistling
like he's been here the entire time. A lanky young man of average height
with black hair long and pulled back with a band, loose jeans and a
flannel shirt over a band tee, wearing more than a few rings, bracelets,
and necklaces.
No sooner does he stroll past Thomas than
something about the younger kid grabs his attention. He tries not to
look over at him. Ends up doing it anyway. Smoo-ooth.
Thomas Delacroix
[P+PU to recognize Garou D=4 (for Hector, anyway)]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 10, 10) ( success x 2 )
Hector Ghosh
[perc + primal-urge: oh yeah i forgot about this]
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (3, 4, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
doesn't catch sight of Hector so much from the look as from the look as
from the way he suddenly appears as he's scanning over the crowd. He
tenses a little, takes a slow breath, and forces himself not to do
anything too crazy in the nice, pretty botanic garden. Also, there are
hardly any kinfolk around, and he's more used to throwing himself
between things than directly at them.
The reluctant look earns
Hector a raised eye-brow and a half smile. A second later, perhaps
because of the look, the debate on how to greet Hector is decided, and
he gets a quick wave.
Winona Bogdan
No body cares,
either, if a pretty Native American looking woman pays not just her own
admission but adds another admission's worth to the donations jar;
whether she saw Hector gearing up for his sneaking or not, it evens out.
She's friendly, this girl, with a smile for everyone who looks her way
(though she's a Theurge under the wrong side of her own moon, so she's a
bit spookier and higher strung than usual) and the sort of magnetism
that draws people in despite themselves. It's really hard not to like
Winona, to be honest.
And she knows about plants. Sure, she reads
the little plaques like she's actually interested, but there's more to
it than that. This is something she'd learned about, done, as a very
young child and so it sparks something, a gentle passion, that only
enhances her general appeal.
Lo, there's Hector! And a kid, who
knows who he is. But if she can see them, chances are good they've long
since sensed her. She doesn't bother trying to sneak up, just walks
until she's alongside them, stops. "Hi." Even her voice is sweet -
with little training, she could turn it to song. If she were interested
in such any more than recreationally, or as is required for a rite.
"How're you?"
[Sure, Per + PU, why not?]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 4, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )
Hector Ghosh
"Sup, Handsome?"
This
is to Winona, who he recognizes for who she is and not what she is. He
looks back to Thomas after she's joined them and indicates him with a
thumb. Rests with his weight on one hip and tries very hard to ignore
the creepy metal sculpture lurking at his back.
"This poor guy is
minding his own business and I've never met him before so I figured I'd
embarrass him a little. You want to help me?"
Whether she says yes or no he extends a hand and gives Thomas a winsome smile that doesn't show teeth.
"Hector
Echoes-of-the-Lost." So they're all aware of each other. Thomas, if he
was at the Moot, ought to recognize him as the Alpha of Celduin who
hijacked the Tales and Songs for nearly an hour. "What's up, brother?"
Winona Bogdan
"Always,"
she answers, and there's that bit more Ragabash than anyone's
comfortable with to her that says she'll totally do it in a heartbeat,
without a thought. Or possibly with considerable thought, as a prank.
"Winona Over-Sea-Under-Stone. Nice to meet you."
She speaks too
clearly, enunciates to well, for English to have been her first language
- but enough sharpness has been taken off to indicate it's a well worn
knowledge, that she learned it a long time ago. Her accent too, is worn
at the edges, softened and indefinable.
"What a convergence. And
how lucky am I, to have both of you?" True to Hector's request, she
doesn't touch him - but those eyes, oh. Molten brown, and they move
over the Uktena in a way that can only be borne of familiarity . . . or
of teasing. Taunting. I'm not touching you. "Everyone's well, I hope."
Thomas Delacroix
Winona's
approach right as Hector reached him unnerves him only until he manages
to sift through all the faces from the moot. After those first few
seconds he relaxes a little and nods to Winona. "Hello," he says, with a
quick flash of a welcoming grin.
Thomas blinks at Hector's
opening, then drops his head back and laughs, the kind of low, pleased
sound that indicates if Hector wants to embarrass him he is going to
have to try much harder. He returns the smile easily, and reaches out to shake Hector's offered hand.
"Thomas,"
he says, then glances around and determines that they do indeed have
enough space for deednames, despite the fact that everywhere in Denver
it seems that multitudes of people are all too close. "Thunder's Cry
Echoes From the Sea."
Hector Ghosh
At Winona's
question the Uktena cuts her a sly half-a-grin and winks at her, making a
click noise with his tongue, all cheek and no sincerity. He just looks
like he smokes a lot of weed. Right now he looks and sounds fairly
cohesive compared to how Winona has seen him the last couple of times.
"Thomas
it is," says Hector before pirouetting and depositing himself on the
bench off the path. Then he frowns and cants his head to one side and
indicates the sculpture in front of him. "What on earth am I looking
at?"
Thomas Delacroix
There is a flicking of his
attention between the two as they play. Thomas laughs again at Hector's
pirouetting and the question that follows, then looks from Hector to
the sculpture and back.
"Art," he says, in a playful tone.
"Clearly." There is a slight shrug, and then he continues in a slightly
less playful tone, but still light. "With all the eyes it looks kind
of like it should be guarding something."
Winona Bogdan
Ah,
but see, Winona is a bit better. She not just pirouettes but lands
over Thomas' lap in a swoon, all Maiden Fair, first. "Who can notice
anything but this splendor? I'm driven well past distraction. I don't
know that I can go on."
For a moment, her hair tickles Hector's
knee, maybe, left down, free and wavy as it (usually) is. Her scent
(clean and perfume-free, just natural Silver Fang and mystery) certainly
drifts by both men in the midst of her antics. It seems that, if
Thomas allows it, she may well stay there just so.
Hector Ghosh
"Yeah," he says to Thomas's supposition of the sculpture's nature. "Some kind of Weaver realm."
He
appears to be ignoring the hell out of Winona's theatrics, but he can
forgive her for indulging in them. Theatrics are one of his favorite
things in the whole wide world, waxing moon that he is. Hector slings an
arm over the back of the bench and leans back to continue the
conversation without Winona in his line of sight.
"See now I'm worried as soon as we get up it's gonna start moving."
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
does not throw Winona off his lap, or swallow his tongue. There is a
definite, if fairly minor twitch of a startle response. Strangers don't
normally fling themselves into his lap. As a rule, if any dramatic
immediate contact happens, he's generally initiating it and causing
someone else to be startled.
"Well do try to go on," he purrs at
Winona. "For me." He manages, for about five whole seconds after that,
not to grin. Now that she's in his lap, and he didn't throw her off
reflexively, she gets to stay. Thomas' general level to rate as
unacceptable casual contact, even from strangers, is way higher than
surprise lap guest.
"Probably only guarding the pond," Thomas says
to Hector, all faux-serious. "I wouldn't look away too long while
we're here, but I doubt it'll follow you home."
Winona Bogdan
"It
collects, that thing does. All the people that stare at it, wondering
about it, all the ideas and imaginings. It inhales them, ingests them,
and turns them into new eyes that eventually take the places of the old.
Next time we come back, we'll see it differently."
Of course
they will - perceptions change, and art mirrors that. But that's not
the implication in Winona's little ghost story, oh no.
"I
suppose," she says after all that, "I shall have to recover. I don't
know what I'd do if my dignity were lost." And then, she's moving to
sit beside Thomas on the bench, proper and prim as a Silver Fang should
be thought it doesn't fit her nearly as well as it does most. "So,
Thomas, do you have a thing for creepy art?"
Hector Ghosh
The
more Winona speaks the wider Hector's eyes grow. And he has fairly big
puppy-like brown eyes to begin with. By the time she's finished he has
affected an air of constrained horror. Like he hasn't stared down things
bigger and nastier than him before and come away unscathed.
"ThatisthecreepiestthingI'veeverheardinmylife," he says in an airless voice before shuddering to shake it off.
Thomas Delacroix
"I
thought it looked like a cute little guardian spirit, you're the ones
making it creepy. I totally would have scratched just behind it's eyes
on it's weird swirly, feathery...tentacle-y things." Thomas laughs.
"Okay, maybe it's a little creepy, but how else is it going scare off
evil spirits. Also, I bet it purrs when you scratch on its tentacles
just behind its eyes, because it totally loves that."
Hector's
'terrified declaration' gets a slight roll of his eyes and he reaches
over to pat Hector's arm that is resting on the back of the bench. "Be
careful, if those are little tentacles made of wind, if you breathe in
too deeply after a statement like that you might just breathe it in.
And then where will we be."
Winona Bogdan
"Obviously,
I'll have to protect you both." This is spoken with much amusement, as
Winona really isn't the most battle worthy of Garou. Talens by the
shopping bag full, healing for days, but fighting? Who puts their
healers and sages in the front lines? "That little thing there only
goes after dudes."
Yes, the Native American Silver Fang said dudes.
"And I know its weakness. You'll be alright, both of you." Such a grin goes with that. Such satisfaction.
Hector Ghosh
Hector is from California. 'Dude' holds a place of prominence in his sentence structure.
Only
his sentence structure has fallen by the wayside since he's decided
it's more fun to sit back and let the other two talk while pulling
faces. Thomas pats his arm to try and reassure him but then turns around
and follows it up with a joke about invisible air-feelers that could
climb in through his lungs.
The Uktena's wide-eyed terror turns
into stony resolve. The hand that isn't slung behind Thomas's shoulder
leaves the wrought-iron armrest of the bench to slowly come up to cover
his nose and mouth. Rings glisten in the sunlight and they can hear his
breath huffing Darth Vader-style against his palm.
Thomas Delacroix
"I
know how to make it purr. We're best friends already. But you can
protect me from the stabbity looking one over there." He waves at
another sculpture over the pool.
The corners of Thomas' mouth
start twitching at Hector's attempts to ward off
wind-tentacle-myriad-eyed guardian spirits of an admittedly creepy
nature. "Oh, you're fine," Thomas says, patting his arm again. "Unless
the wind changes. Then we might have something to worry about."
Winona Bogdan
"Thomas here is right. If we were downwind! That's when you'd really be in trouble."
It's
not always so easy or comfortable, meeting new people; apparently,
Hector and Winona are a good combo. Or maybe they're just that easy to
be around in general, and on their own. (Also, Winona is from the
beaches of Baja Sur - something akin to 'dude' holds a prominent place
in her vernacular in every language she knows.)
"Hector, there.
Always cautious, always on the lookout. So where'd you come from,
Thomas? And how are you liking Denver so far?"
Hector Ghosh
Hector
looks like five-foot-eleven of nothing but the muscle underneath his
flannel is solid. It's that deceptive sort of strength that coalesces to
ensure his reputation as a humble badass will ring out in the halls of
ages long after he's gone.
Now though he takes his hand away from
his mouth to say, "Spirits don't abide by the rules of nature, man.
Can't be too careful."
Thomas Delacroix
"Maine," Thomas says, lightly enough but he still tenses up as he says it. "So far, Denver is...." Fantastic. Claustrophobic. Brilliant. Horrific. "Something."
And,
for the first time, he fails to properly bait Hector. Hell, he fails
to even look about to smile. His eyes just flick over, suddenly
shuttered and numb, then away again.
Winona Bogdan
"Everywhere is something.
Personally, I think Denver's the first US city I've lived in that I
really like. Though Phoenix was okay, too." Of course, she hasn't had
Thomas' experiences and she knows it - and eventually, she'll have her
own trauma, one imagines. "I'm from a little fishing village you've
never heard of on the beaches of Baja Sur, mostly native but every now
and then tourists find it. But don't tell my dad I told you, he doesn't
like it when I admit to my humble beginnings."
This gets a roll
of her eyes, and she's clearly more or less okay with it now, though one
imagines she wasn't always so well adjusted.
"But hey, that's all
ancient history, and I'm no talesinger. Have you met Phoebe or Keisha
yet? They're like my sisters." In the ways that count, anyway, to some
- not by blood or Tribe, but by bond nonetheless.
Lola Hawkes
Approximately
two hours ago, give or take, a text conversation occurred between
Hector and the Kinfolk that his pack was bound to protect (although the
likelihood that she actually needed protecting was slim.)
--
what are you up to?
Adventure. Sneaking in to Botanical gardens.
--
jesus christ why?
Got bored. Lol. You should join me!
-- i can be there
in 1.5 hours
See you then!
One and a half hours wasn't
the best judgment of time, and Lola wound up paying the entrance fee to
the Gardens with a crumpled ten dollar bill with a few ones to go along
with. The day had been sweltering, and while the sun had finally hidden
itself behind the mountains to the West the heat had not abated nearly
enough just yet. It had been close to a hundred degrees farenheit
earlier, and now it was just skimming the low eighties.
So Lola
entered the park dressed not for show, but for comfort in defense of
today's heat. She wore a pair of khaki shorts that rode the tops of her
thighs and put her long strong legs on display despite the fact that
she walked in well-worn sneakers instead of sandals. A coral colored
wife-beater tank covered her torso, and she had a wide-brimmed straw hat
on her head that looked better suited to gardening than wearing about.
Her hair was looped back in a plain ponytail at the nape of her neck,
and there was a borderline surly expression on her face.
"Twelve and a half fuckin' dollars, no wonder he snuck in."
Still
grumbling to herself, the Uktena Kinfolk tugged a plain little
cellphone -- the type they give you for free when you start a contract
-- from the back pocket of her shorts and fired off a text.
-- no wonder you snuck in this place is a fuckin jip. where are you?
Hector Ghosh
The
other Galliard is watching Thomas's face as he answers Winona. What
levity kept them screwing around threatens to drop out from under them
as he mentions Maine and a stitch tightens between Hector's brows.
His
phone vibrates in his pocket and he about leaps out of his shoes.
Tensions are running high, folks. That statue is staring at him.
"Yikes!!"
No shit: yikes. Pounces up like a fucking jungle cat so he's standing
on the bench and once he realizes what he did he clears his throat and
just stays standing as he takes out his phone. "'Accept.'"
Whatever
the text message says makes him laugh that corny nerd laugh of his and
then he looks around. Can't see her for all the greenery around them.
"Excuse me a second," he says to the two seated Garou before he cups his hands around his mouth and bellows:
LOLA!!
That accomplished he responds to the text message with another text message:
By the Guardian of the Black Gate. I think it's called The Catalyst. It's creepy. Just follow the soothing sound of my voice.
Thomas Delacroix
"Yeah, I've met them." He frowns. "How is Keisha? Have you talked to her...today or yesterday or the night before that?"
He's
okay when the phone rings, but when Hector jumps up, he half rises,
then catches Winona who is almost tipped onto the ground and flops back
onto the bench. Not a crisis. Totally not a crisis. Just two twitchy
Garou. Nothing to see here. Really people.
"Seeing around the thorn bush," he says, automatic and flat.
Lola Hawkes
Lola!
It's
followed about thirty seconds later by her phone buzzing in her palm.
Prior to the text message being written and sent by the Galliard
Kinsman, though, Lola had startled to hear a sudden bellow come from the
center of the park, directly in front of where she had idled herself
until she was given a direction to go. She'd startled like an animal--
skin twitching and heart leaping but not moving limbs or spinning about
or actually jumping in surprise.
Recognition of her name had
processed a second after the shout, and Lola shook her head and started
walking in the direction it had come from. The text that followed
confirmed that she was headed in the right direction (along with the
little directory pamplet that she picked up at the gate), and so the
phone was pocketed and Lola went on her way.
The park wasn't so
gigantic and the Catalyst statue wasn't so far away from the front gate
that it took Lola more than a few minutes to find Hector. When she did
spot him she was surprised, though, because she wasn't expecting to see
two other Garou (yes, she was positive of that fact) there along with
him. This wasn't Tasmin-- maybe the man in the middle of the bench was
Jack?
Only one way to find out.
When the Kinswoman
approached it was immediately noticeable that her gait seemed to be
something she picked up from other Garou around her. Her steps were
longer and everything about her stride from her squared shoulders to her
toes was self-assured. She approached like she was on the same level
as the three Wolves that gathered on the bench, although it was
immediately recognizable to the lot of them that a Garou she was not,
although the blood of them ran solid in her veins. She was a child of
Older Brother, and that could not be mistaken.
Before she was near
enough for words a hand was lifted and waved briefly, the greeting
coming from a distance. It might seem presumptive of her to think she'd
be noticed outside of conversational distance, but she knew that her
Cousins were perceptive things. She doubted she'd be missed, especially
since Hector was waiting for her.
Hector Ghosh
[manip + subterfuge: how bad is he at playing cool]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (9) ( success x 1 )
Winona Bogdan
Make
that three twitchy Garou - for all that Winona is far from the Last
Great Warrior, there are certain instincts and reactions that are
ingrained. Hector jumps, Thomas stands, and Winona finds her feet
quickly, though without anything resembling Hector's style and aplomb.
She's still brushing herself off, straightening the skirt that looks
downright demure next to Lola's shorts (though it's actually on the
short side for skirts she owns, skimming just above mid-thigh as it
does) and the sleeveless polo-type thing she's wearing with it. (And
yes, she's wearing sandals. This had been a fun trip, not a working
one.) She's middling height, at 5'6 or so, and towards the low end of
middling weight - no supermodel, she, but certainly pretty enough and
full of friendly, magnetic personality.
"Hey." That's all the
admonition she gives, though - she's okay with it, more startled at the
sudden change of positioning than anything else. Really, she kind of
looks like the Silver Fang princess she is, despite the attitudes and
jokes and conversations that might lead people to think otherwise.
"Friend of Hector's, huh? I'm Winona."
Hector Ghosh
If the look that comes over Hector's naked face tells her anything it's that she was missed but they're using two different senses of the word.
Stood
up on the bench like he is he can see her before she is within
respectable conversation distance. Once she waves and he waves back
Hector takes a giant step off the bench and it occurs to him that he
needs to conduct a round of introductions.
And to his credit he
doesn't turn into some doofy lovestruck moron the second he sees Lola
but it's obvious to anyone who's looking at him that he's playing at
suaveness. Almost grins at the sight of her but tamps it down real far
so it's just a aw hey I know you smile. Gives her a fraternal yet slow-motion punch on the upper arm in greeting and then indicates her with a thumb.
"Kids,"
he says to Thomas and Winona, "this is Lola. She takes care of the Bawn
out there at Forgotten Questions. Lola, this is--yeah. Winona. And
Thomas! Turns out we all work together, isn't that weird?"
Thomas Delacroix
Breathing.
He can do that. Deliberately and slowly, in fact, which he does until
Lola is closer to them and he has to deal with introductions. And then,
then, there is a flash of a grin to Lola and a wave.
"Hey," he
says. And it is friendly enough, but Winona and Hector got to see
actual warmth and not this constructed brightness overlaying the
remnants of the tension from questions and the sudden collective
spooking. "Nice to meet you."
Lola Hawkes
When
she was near enough, Hector hopped down off the bench that he and the
other had been occupying. Thomas was on his feet now, as was Winona,
and Lola regarded them each with a nod. She was probably going to say
something more, but Hector was doing introductions instead.
He
smiled to her and greeted her with a slow-coming punch to the upper
arm. Lola was smaller than both of the men, but taller by the Silver
Fang by a scant inch. However, she was sturdy. Like, sturdy in the way
that made it look like she could shrug off a punch and deflect a hockey
player who's come to check her into the wall. She had strong limbs,
her shoulders were squared and her hips were broad, and her expression
tended to default to something stern. That's how she looked when she
was walking to join them.
The punch to the arm, though, cracked a
grin on the Kinswoman's face and the surly tough demeanor fell away.
She seemed easier to engage with when she didn't look ready to make
someone swallow their teeth. Dark eyebrows hopped up and she looked at
Hector with a quick, silent 'that's what you went with?' expression, but she quickly enough switched to Winona and Thomas in turn.
To
Winona, she held her hand out for a shake. If it was accepted, and one
assumes it would be because etiquette was important to Silver Fangs,
the Kinswoman's palms were calloused from work and her grip was firm.
"I'm his Kin," she explained simply-- it could have any number of
meanings, and she didn't allude one bit to which one was most
appropriate. "Good to meet you."
Thomas was greeted next, as he
was introduced second. He was given a handshake as well, but the way
she shook Thomas's hand was stronger with a bit heavier of a grip-- not
crushing, but compensating. "And you, Thomas. Good to meet you too."
Lola
then turned to look at the Catalyst, made a face, and nodded her head
toward it. "That metal scribble looks like Mayhem puked it out. Why
hang out in front of it?"
Hector Ghosh
That's what you went with?A brief teeth-bearing yeahidunno grimace-smile in response.
He
seems at ease at Lola's side as she introduces herself, managing not to
look too pleased with the fact that she calls herself his Kin even
though it doesn't mean anything other than they share a tribe. They
shared a sister once. Neither of the Garou gathered here have met Willow
or Maria or Glen or Corey. Don't know who in Celduin's past has died or
stormed off.
It's a fresh start, almost. Ignore the fact that
Hector doesn't come across as either an alpha or a competent Cliath who
could make Fostern within a few turns of the moon if he keeps himself
out of too much trouble. There's more to being a Galliard than jumping
around in a dirt circle telling stories but there is a lot to that.
Motherfucker is bold.
Back to the Catalyst.
"These two
clowns think it's sucking people's souls out through their lungs. Thomas
says he's got its number though. He'll protect us." A beat. "Mostly I'm
afraid to turn my back on it in case it decides to wake up and start
chasing people."
Winona Bogdan
"It was Thomas'
idea," Winona says, and the last time anyone heard her talk this way was
several years ago, around the time she and Hector first met. It's not
quite nervous, but near enough; the speed picks up, the accent
(Mexican-ish, for anyone keeping track, but of the more indigenous sort
rather than Spaniard-y) deepens, and suddenly she's looking anywhere but
at the Uktena. Either of them, for that matter, though of course she's polite, of course
she shakes hands. In short, she's the least Fang-y Silver Fang any of
them has met in awhile, despite the carriage and breeding (both
capitalized and not, and hard won by the whiter side of her family in
the case of the less capitalized variety) that proclaims her Tribe.
"Something about guarding the deep. Watch out for the dream-snatching
and wind tentacles, though."
There's a pause, then, brief, and her eyes go distant - it's a thing with Theurges, maybe, or packed Garou.
"I
. . . kind of have to go. It was nice meeting you, Thomas and Lola.
See you around, yeah?" She waits for acknowledgement, but she's
definitely on her way . . .
. . . out.
Thomas Delacroix
He
shakes Lola's hand firmly. "See, that poor statue only wanted be loved
and you all just hate." He glances back at the statue. "It's okay. I
love you, even if they don't."
"Goodbye, Winona. Nice meeting you."
He
glances between Hector and Lola, and waits to see what they do. For
all he, briefly, resumed being playful about the statue, he's still
distant compared to earlier in the conversation.
Lola Hawkes
The
theory about the structure is almost taken seriously. It's not quite
believed, but it isn't entirely dismissed either. This shows in how
Lola frowns some and glances briefly to Thomas, then looks back at the
sculpture one more time for a more in-depth expression.
"You sure that thing's malicious? It just looks like nonsense and nothing to me."
Then
Winona was acting shifty, and that didn't go unnoticed one bit,
especially not considering the proximity between the four of them. The
Silver Fang's eyes went kind of distant and she looked a little...
uncomfortable. When Winona came back into focus and was made aware of
the people around her again, Lola was staring at her openly with one
eyebrow a little higher than the other on her forehead. "You alright?"
The
Crescent-Moon (although Lola didn't know that's what she was-- she
didn't even know the woman's Tribe) said that she had to go, and that it
was nice meeting her and Thomas both and she'd see them around. Lola
watched the woman go with a nod, although the mingled confusion and
skepticism didn't leave her face at all. "Yeah, uh, see you around.
Nice meeting you."
Then there were three. Lola stood side-by-side
with Hector and the stance seemed comfortable and familiar enough. It
suggested that they spent time together, but didn't necessarily betray
anything romantic. She didn't lean into the Uktena Galliard, didn't
brush his hand or touch at his back. She just stood with her hands on
her hips and elbows tucked back so that they didn't jut into Hector's
side.
"So... This is the place to be, huh?" She tossed her head
back with a small jerk, lifting the brim of her hat up out of her face
as a result. "What do we do now?"
Hector Ghosh
And
Hector isn't able to keep the confusion and the mingling--what is that,
contrition? He looks conflicted and responsible for the sudden
discomfort in the female Garou but doesn't move to stop her. Maybe he'll
explain later. Probably he won't. Hector can't lie but he does omit
detail like an old hat.
As for what now:
"I don't know. I didn't think too far past 'sneak in and walk around.' Maybe we try the actual walk around part."
Thomas Delacroix
"Sure.
The walking around part isn't so bad, if you haven't done it yet." He
runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. "Though, if you two want to do
that on your own, I can just take off."
Hector Ghosh
Now
Hector's body language becomes forcefully nonchalant, like he's in an
improv group and has been told he has to act like he has the
intelligence and confidence of the captain of a high school wrestling
team.
"How am I supposed to subtly decide if I want to scoop you up into my pack if you just take off?"
Lola Hawkes
"We're
kin, man," Lola chimed in along with Hector, urging Thomas to stay.
"We have all the time in the world for it to be just the two of us."
This is said casually, without the same sense of dramatic flair that the
Uktena man naturally added. She was a little distracted anyways, still
peering off after the Silver Fang and the swishing of the skirt as she
left.
When Winona had rounded out of sight, Lola looked back to
the pair of Talesingers and asked the pair of them: "What was her
deal?"
She didn't sound insulted. She didn't take Winona's sudden
discomfort and departure to heart, and didn't assume that it was
anything related to hard feelings or rivalries that the Kinswoman had no
idea of. After all, she'd only just shaken the Theurge's hand before
she decided quite abruptly that it was time to go. Instead, she sounded
genuinely curious, maybe even a little gossipy.
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
turns to look at Hector, frowning slightly. The thought of being
pulled into an existing pack pretty obviously just never occurred to
him, and he isn't even sure what to think about it; but, after a few
seconds of consideration he relaxes a little. "I suppose I shouldn't
make your life more difficult. Shall we circle around downwind of the
statue that even I'll admit is a little creepy?"
"No idea," he says to Lola. "Just met her today."
Hector Ghosh
"Ehhh..."
Fuck
it. Lying isn't his strong suit and what you don't hide away doesn't
become something people can warp. They start walking as Hector tucks his
hands into his pockets.
"Between my First Change and coming to
Denver the first time I was out at Window Rock, which is like, heart of
the Navajo nation in Arizona, right? Sept of the Painted Sands was
nearby. Whole point was to make up for the whole LOL Lost Cub good job
thing I had going for me. Uh... I was eighteen, she was a student at UA
and nobody knew she was true-born, they thought she was..."
This is not a flattering story.
"Yeah.
Anyway she kind of had a crush on me then. Nothing happened. I got
scooped up by my mentor and had to do my Rite of Passage and all of
that. Willow and Maria and Glen blew through after then and they were
like get in loser we're going to Colorado. Turns out Winona's a
spirit-talker. Found that out when she showed up last month. I think she
might still dig me but we're both, you know, plus--"
To Thomas, like she isn't standing right next to him.
"--even
if we weren't, I'm kind of crushing super hard on this one Mexican
chick who guards the Bawn out at Forgotten Questions, soooo..."
Lola Hawkes
Hector
had a way to him that grew on you. Maria would jokingly call it
Cancerous Charisma and, with her small winding smirk that was so
tailored to her heart-shaped face, the Ragabash eldest Hawkes sister
would jostle Hector by the shoulders and curl under his arm and make a
show of pretending that he was a tumor growing out of her back.
All
the same, though, even while Lola listened to the story, and even while
her face grew stonier as it went on, her kinsman's last line softened
her expression and curved the corners of her mouth up into something
more friendly, more accepting, more fond.
None the less...
"I
know how that feels," Lola said with a huff, and while Thomas misses
out on the meaning behind the comment Hector knows full well what she's
talking about. Lola was predicted to be a True Born, the Soothsayer
told her parents so. However, come age sixteen when no Change had
happened or could be provoked out of her, they went back and it was
confirmed that the Blessing had skipped her and she was simply a Kinfolk
instead. It seemed the same had happened to Winona, but in the
opposite direction. Lucky bitch.
"Past is the past, and
she'll need to get the hell over that heartache right quick. That
tiptoes some lines that she can't be sniffing around. Even if she
doesn't act on any of that, still harboring it's not only gonna lead to
temptation, but it's gonna make her heart sick too." She didn't sound
angry or territorial. She wasn't making accusations that someone was
gonna come along and try to 'steal her man'. If anything, especially
considering the last sentence spoken, she was plainly concerned for both
parties and wanted the issue resolved.
"And that's half-Mexican,
thank you." This is said with a small bump of her elbow against his
side, and she started walking in whichever direction suited her
momentary fancy. They'd talked about seeing the rest of the gardens and
getting away from The Catalyst but hadn't moved yet, so she started
walking and figured they could steer the direction if they wanted to
later. After all, starting and stopping motion required the most
energy-- once you were going, though, momentum was easy.
Thomas Delacroix
The
set of his shoulders starts to relax a little as Hector starts telling
his story, and he moves along with them, listening. Thomas isn't
terribly difficult, just tell him stories and ask him...well...no
questions. About anything. Ever. He'll calm right down. Or, at least
stop looking ready to jump out of his skin. It's a start at least.
He
stays close, falling to whatever side of Hector Lola isn't on, closer
than most people would tend to be unless they knew someone. But then,
their little tableau on the bench probably would have fooled most of the
people who passed them about how well they all knew each other. He
stays quiet too, but not in a way that screams tension now.
Hector Ghosh
Lola
throws out an elbow that doesn't aim to do damage and Hector retaliates
by hooking his under her chin. Looks like a stranglehold from a
distance but he puts no pressure on her windpipe or her shoulders. Makes
a noise like a kitten trying to growl and then releases her.
"No no," he says. "Thank you."
And
the burden of steering the conversation looks like it's about to fall
onto his shoulders. Luckily he either enjoys being the center of
attention or that's just a natural consequence of never shutting the
hell up.
"In other news, I've discovered that if you wear your
hair down while you're playing your guitar or... ukelele or whatever
floats your boat downtown, your busking revenue goes up by at least...
a lot. I wasn't ever very good at math. But I could have paid the
exorbitantly bourgeoisie fee to get in here today based on yesterday's
tourist haul, just by wearing my hair down instead of up. So..."
He cants his head at Thomas.
"I mean yours is pretty short. You might not need this information."
Thomas Delacroix
"I'll
keep it in mind, just in case I ever grow my hair out and take up
busking," Thomas says with a smile. There is a slight pause, and then a
sigh. "You live in the city then?"
Lola Hawkes
The
playfulness is carried over from elbow-nudge to loose headlock. Hector
had a few inches of height to leverage over the Kinswoman, so wrapping
an arm about her neck was no difficult feat. Granted, Thomas could
easily see from how the Kinswoman's muscles rolled under skin and what
padding was there by grace of being a woman that she could defend
herself from almost any human man she could encounter on the street.
If
she wanted, she could have tossed Hector in a moment. He didn't weigh a
lot, he maybe only had about twenty to thirty pounds leverage on her.
It even played somewhere in the back theater of her mind-- if this were a
true attack she would have hooked her shoulder into his chest and
seized the arm about her neck with one hand. She would've carried his
momentum for him, pushed with the shoulder and leaned forward. He
would've rolled off her back and slapped his hard on the ground.
But
Hector is no attacker, and his elbow crook doesn't apply any pressure
to her throat at all. So rather than reacting violently she cuffed
lightly at his face with the side of her hand until he growled and let
go.
Soon the conversation shifted elsewhere, and the two men were
discussing playing for money and how having long hair left down really
helped get more income in a day. Thomas grinned and participated in
conversation once more, but the sigh didn't go unnoticed. The Kinswoman
of varying intensity peered at him from across Hector's shoulders. "I
don't," was her answer to his question (probably directed at Hector more
than her, but who cares?), and she moved right along to: "You alright,
friend? Sound kinda... exasperated or something."
Hector Ghosh
"Most
people make that noise when they realize how glorious my hair is,"
Hector says. He's interested in Thomas's response but looking at the
path ahead of them now instead of the other Galliard's face as if that
has a chance of getting the younger male to answer.
Thomas Delacroix
He
watches the playful scuffling, not seeming concerned about it, but
simply noting the way they move. "I'm-" He breaks off answering to
laugh at Hector, shaking his head. "I'm not experiencing dramatic envy
of your hair! Much. Not until you brought it up!" He gives Hector a
light shove with his shoulder.
His face goes less playful as he goes back to Lola's question. "I'm-" Really terrible at lying. Trying to think of a way out of answering this question. "Having a kinda wild week. Just-I'm...I'll be fine."
Lola Hawkes
Thomas
might still be a teenager-- he looked like he was 'legal', so to speak,
but he still seemed fairly youthful. She'd peg him for anywhere
between 18 and 21. Hector's age she knew. That made Lola the oldest,
which was a curious sensation for a youngest sister to experience.
Still, she left no doubt of her age. She came across as purely an
adult, solidly hugging the fence between 'early twenties' and 'mid
twenties'. The air of adulthood was not something that was displayed
with specific actions, though, or even necessarily the shape or lines of
your face. It was a feeling that you gave off, a certain groundedness
that came from living on your own and keeping property and taking care
of yourself for several years.
This might be why poor Thomas feels
on the spot with Lola looking at him, calling him out on the sad puff
of air he'd exhaled before asking about their residences. It was like
when a student mutters something in the back of the room, but the
teacher notices and asks for clarification. Lola, resoundingly an
adult, was staring down the Shadow Lord Cliath like she had every
authority to do so.
His answer was vague and cried to have the subject be left alone. Surprisingly, perhaps, Lola obliged.
"It
happens," she dismissed, and continued on with the conversation as
though there had been no hiccup in it at all. "I live on property just
southeast of Forgotten Questions' land. My family's been there for
generations. Hector's just landed in town with his pack not too long
ago."
Hector Ghosh
Thomas bumps Hector. It isn't
any more of a serious blow than any of the other cornholing-around blows
they've traded today but he makes an exaggerated OW!! face and
rubs his upper arm. Gives Lola time to decide how to handle Thomas's
answer and then make mention of the newness of Hector's roots here.
He
sucks at lying and the truth of the situation is that coming to town is
a complicated bittersweet thing and sometimes he still gets pissed off
because part of the reason why things are the way that they are is a
5'5" jerkwad who's still alive and out there somewhere as opposed to the
other three people who've died in the last year and aren't here
anymore. The pack as it stands now is not the pack they left with not
even a year ago. Lola hasn't even met Jack yet. For all she knew this
handsome motherfucker Hector was sitting with today was Jack.
"Just fell off the back of the old turnip truck," he says.
Thomas Delacroix
"I
got here...just before the full moon," Thomas says quietly. "I'd never
really spent more than a day in a city until then. I still don't live
here. In the city. But...I'm used to a lot more space. Full of a lot
less people."
Lola Hawkes
The fact that he was at
the Gardens kind of made sense, then. It was a place with lots of plant
life and some trees to help you forget that you're in a city. Except
that Thomas couldn't-- the plants were purposefully arranged, the trees
weren't frequent or tall enough, and the skyscrapers were visible in the
distance past the Gardens' gates. He could smell the exhaust and
sewage and other general smells of the city in the air because he was
used to what fresh air smelled and tasted like.
The poor fucker was probably miserable, and sympathy softened Lola's face some.
"Hey,"
she said, and her tone was just slightly more soothing to go with the
change in her expression. "Makes sense that your week's sucked, then. I
won't lie and say you'll get used to it, but it'll wig you out less as
time goes on, I promise ya that.
"Anyway, where ya from? Have you found Kin here to stay with yet? If not, where the hell are you laying your head at night?"
Hector Ghosh
Here Hector gives Lola a look that all but oozes Aw look at you all trying to take care of wayward Cliaths.
The edges of the look are teasing but at the center it's all gooey and
warm and he tamps that down the way he tamped down his joy at seeing her
arrive earlier.
Continues to keep his mouth shut to give Thomas room to speak.
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
glances at Lola, slightly puzzled. "I'm not living with any kin, but I
do have a house not very far from Roxborough State Park."
He
shoots Hector a quick, pleading look that could mean anything from
'please tell more stories' to 'can't you make her stop asking me
questions?' but doesn't actually say anything to him.
Lola Hawkes
"Good,
good. That can't be too far out from where The Homestead is." And
yes, you can absolutely hear the capital letters when she speaks of The
Homestead. She talks of the land like it's something holy, a remnant
from a time long since gone that still lives and beats and breathes and
defies the world that tries to smolder it away.
Thomas is making
pleading eyes at Hector from an angle where Lola doesn't quite catch
it. She's distracted by the fact that Hector was looking at her not
unlike how someone will look at a big tough guy when they catch him
being gentle and sweet to a tiny kitten. Lola didn't snort or get
defensive, though. She just raised a single eyebrow, shrugged the
opposing shoulder, and dipped her hand into her pocket to seek her
cellphone, but more importantly the time it displayed.
"Place is
gonna be closing up soon. We should probably find our way out. Thomas,
you need a ride back home by chance? The truck's a little cramped, but
no more so than that bench you all were cuddling on."
Hector Ghosh
And Hector shoots him a look back complete with penned-in shrug that very plainly says I... ah... er... no.
Piggybacks
Lola's offer with: "I can ride in the back. Let her pepper you with
questions the entire way back. You look like you'd really enjoy that."
Thomas Delacroix
"No,
as much as I would love trying to figure out those logistics, I'd have
to figure out how to get back here to get my car. And I have already
dragged the only person likely to do those kind of favors out to my
place twice this week. He may have a cap on how much fresh air he can
get. Wouldn't want to push him." Thomas smiles, fondness creeping into
his tone.
Hector Ghosh
"Light rail, son. I mean it's ten miles out from Roxborough to the last station, but that's what your feet are for."
Lola Hawkes
Hector's
comment was greeted with a nudge-- her shoulder to his, and nothing
more. She'd stopped wandering toward the back of the park and instead
changed the course to direct them all back to the gates. They would end
up spying a couple walking several dozen yards in front of them,
holding hands. Apparently they realized it's closing time too and were
headed out the same way. Lola opted to follow them, but set her pace to
ensure that she didn't close the gap between the two groups.
Thomas's
comment, however, wasn't quite greeted at all. Rather, it was regarded
with a new kindling of suspicion that she did nothing to hide from her
face. She gave the Shadow Lord a long analyzing look, like she was
searching for (possibly even finding) new data just from the outline of
his figure and the cut of his face.
Finally, she says simply: "Didn't realize you have a car. Nevermind, then."
And
she'd fall to the background of the conversation, let Hector and Thomas
go back and forth until they reached the gates. Once past them and out
into the parking lot, she initated the parting of ways with another
offer for a handshake to the new Galliard. "Well, Thomas, it was good
to meet you, for real. I hope to see you around the Sept of Forgotten
Questions-- it sounds like it's more your speed than this city-Sept.
Shit, it doesn't even have a proper Caern, you know that? Just
piggybacks off of ours." All of this spoken as though she were
commenting on a sports team's performance while shaking his hand.
Thomas Delacroix
"What?" Thomas asks Hector curiously. "Oh! That...train-like thing?"
He
frowns a little at Lola's analyzing look, and raises an eyebrow. But,
if she wants to give him weird looks and try to figure out god knows
what by staring at him, good for her?
He takes her hand when she
offers it again, shaking firmly, just as the first time. "It was nice
meeting you. Ah...yeah, that's odd, but it's already been good having
people here when...when we needed them to be."
Hector Ghosh
At
the end of the line he stands to the side once again to let Lola
negotiate the social transaction. Snort-laughs when Lola points out that
the city Sept isn't a legitimate Caern, refers to Forgotten Questions
as ours.
He offers his hand to shake again and gives Thomas
another one of those teeth-behind-the-lips smiles. If Lola seems more
suspicious, he doesn't find it mirrored in Hector. Or maybe Hector's
just slow on the uptake. Or he's just trying extra hard not to make an
enemy out of a Shadow Lord.
"Alright, kid," he says to Thomas. "Now if you'll excuse us..."
Whereupon he turns around and shoves his hands in his pockets and addresses Lola like they're already alone.
"So sneaking in worked out nicely. Got a whole twelve and a half bucks
burning a hole in my pocket now. Quest proposal: let us find the finest
cheeseburgers and milkshakes in all the land and then consume them."
Thomas Delacroix
Hector
also gets another handshake and a return smile. "Yeah. Goodnight."
And he heads off. Wherever he is parked, it isn't here, because he
heads back out toward the street.
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