Lola Hawkes
A night's exploits can be summed into one
word more often than not. That word is the driving factor-- the reason
why that night occurred. Tonight when a pair of Uktena drove an hour
into the nearest city to see a big action flick on a whim, the motivator
was--
Youth.
Boredom.
Bonding.
Possibilities.
Something like that.
Either
way, the young man and his similarly-sized (just barely shorter--
barely) female companion found themselves driving in a busted rusted
white truck not away from the city necessarily-- not to go back home
anyways. Instead they went eastward, just to see what they would find.
They
found a park-- the kind that was more acreage than equipment or
content. It was the kind of place that had a playground on either end, a
public restroom on one, a tennis court, basketball court, and a big
broad stretch of grass for local festivals and soccer games. The grass
was surprisingly green and fresh-- kept that way by diligent
sprinklers. This was where the rich people brought their kids for
afterschool activities, after all.
The big rustbucket truck pulled
into a small parking lot for the park, and Lola climbed out, still
chattering animatedly about the movie that she and the Galliard had just
gone to see.
"--What can I say? The whole role wrapped around
him like a king's robe. I'd take Charlie Day to my bedroom and the war
stories he would tell later? No one'd believe."
This statement
was punctuated with the heavy smack of the truck door being thrown
closed, and Lola jerked her head up at Hector from over the hood. "I
know you wanted the Russian."
Hector Ghosh
"The Jaeger, or one of the Street Fighter twins?"
That's
the important part of the equation, according to the one of them who
was so amped up about the movie that he made Lola sit in the dawn's
light of the rolling credits to watch all the way to the end and then
yelled THAT WAS AWESOME once it was just them and the poor kid come
through to sweep up the spilled cola and errant bits of popcorn.
The
last time they rode in the truck the silence stretched pervasive and
awkward for the newness of his Rage. Hector bears it not with pride now
but with familiarity. Like a coat that belonged to an older sibling now
departed. And he bounds out of the cab all happy to be out in the fresh
air and the waning sunlight and the grass and he comes around the front
of the truck to walk beside her into the park proper.
"I don't know, man, if we're talking Who Would You Do... Hannibal. Definitely."
Lola Hawkes
"Oh, we're expanding this to all of movie-dom?"
Lola
was all toothy grins in that moment, placing sandal-clad feet in the
grass and meandering aimlessly forward-- not toward any of the
structures, but out into the clearing of well-manicured grass mowed into
perfect rows, only to be smashed up tomorrow morning by eight-year-olds
in lacrosse gear. She'd dressed in sandals that strapped about her
ankles (flip-flops were out of the question, they didn't stay on feet
nearly well enough), a pair of denim shorts with a white tank-top tucked
into them, and a loose thin overshirt, with paisley-esque designs
painted in navy and gold over a red background. The sleeves of this
shirt were rolled up to the elbow, and rather than buttoning up it was
tied in the front. Her hair was worn down initially, but had since been
tied back in a loose ponytail that was combed into place by fingernails
and secured with an elastic she'd kept habitually about her wrist.
When
Hector had come to The Homestead that day declaring that they should go
out and see Pacific Rim because he just saw the trailer and there were
robots and this wasn't the kind of movie you went to see alone he needed
someone to talk about it with later and share the experience with him.
Lola had declared that there was a theater in Littleton, halfway
between home and The City proper, and that she would get the truck out
of the garage.
Clearly, Lola had no complaints to being dragged out of the house. For a shut-in, she wasn't very good at being anti-social.
After
some time of thought, spent watching a pair of tweenaged boys walking
their bikes up a sidewalk on the otherside of the park (headed away, not
toward), Lola declared: "Han Solo, I think."
Hector Ghosh
For
their dress and the ease with which they walk together the two of them
could be a couple of college kids home on break. Hector has his hair
pulled back and pieces tucked behind his ears for they came loose during
the course of the film and he put on his flannel shirt to ward off the
air conditioning and hasn't taken it back off yet for the coolness in
the night air. A looseness in his walk that belies the heaviness of the
moon overhead.
It's waning now. Hector was born under a boisterous moon, not a somber one, and the full is behind them.
The
park they've chosen is called Jackass Hill Park and they probably could
have found a nice bench or a few swings at Writer's Vista Park or found
plenty of wooded seclusion at South Platte but they're here and the
rolling view of the mountains and the town at its base spread out beyond
them and as comfortable as he is walking beside her now the young
Californian who talks like a Canadian sometimes for as much time as they
spent up north these past few years is agape at the majesty of the
scene before them.
As the tweenagers leave the area with the
coming of dusk and the threat of their mothers' retribution at hand
another figure comes out of the gloaming. They can make out nothing of
it from this distance, not yet. But it moves slower than the teens and
its eyes are big and wide and its head swivels from side to side. Human.
No reason for them not to think it's human.
Han Solo is her all-time movie crush.
"Okay,
wait," Hector says but it has nothing to do with the figure fifty-odd
yards away from them. "Can I change my answer? Do you mind sharing?"
Lola Hawkes
The
figure off in the distance isn't unnoticed-- Lola is aware that there's
someone else on the sidewalk, but that's all she knows or cares at this
moment. She's severe, she's territorial, she's protective of her
Homestead... but they weren't there, were they? This park wasn't
Lola's, it wasn't her home to protect, so she wasn't nearly as diligent
or familiar here as she would be back home. Back home the character in
the distance would have her rapt attention until it was identified.
Here, Lola just assumed it was someone who lived nearby out for a stroll
now that the air was cooler, blowing the dust of being indoors off
their skin.
Hector wanted to know if she would share, and Lola
raised an eyebrow thoughtfully at him, then leaned down to brush some
dry grass clippings out from between her toes. She balanced just fine
leaned over, didn't wobble or need to hold the grass or Hector for help
staying upright. But, again, she trained her whole youth away planning
to be a warrior-- if she was strong in physical combat, it stood to
reason that she would be able to maintain her footing without problem on
any given day.
"I suppose I could share." Still leaned down,
preoccupied with the simple aimless task at hand, she went on to ask in a
tone that was pure curiosity, if a bit brash and forward (but that was
Lola's way, wasn't it?): "You gay? Maria didn't ever tell stories
about that."
Hector Ghosh
You gay?
"Whoa!" he says.
And
for the loudness of it Lola might think she's actually pissed him off
if she hadn't heard him make this noise before. It's for show. Most of
what he does is for show. He's spent the last three years in close
proximity with a couple of ball-busting tricksters.
The stranger
wandering down the sidewalk is staring right at them. It comes no closer
to them than they come to it, Hector stopping when Lola stops so he can
watch around them as she dusts out her sandal.
"Lemme ask you
something: would you rather hear me make jokes about Ron Perlman being
the hottest piece of ass in that movie, or regale you with graphic
details about the unsavory things Rinko Kikuchi is going to do to me in
my dreams tonight?"
She doesn't get a chance to answer. The young man practically bristles a second later and it has nothing to do with her.
"Also,
I realize I'm going to sound like a roid rage-y pinhead in about three
seconds... but I don't like the way that dude's looking at us."
Lola Hawkes
Most
Kinfolk grow up in houses with Kinfolk parents and Kinfolk siblings--
typically they have one or two Garou within the family, and the odds are
this is usually a grandparent, an uncle, a second cousin-- something
like that. Moral of the story is, most Kinfolk don't spend a lot of
time around Garou outside of their marriage. Most don't learn how to
simply be around a Garou, how to judge where their Rage stands or what
to make of the more... animalistic ways that they had.
Lola
thought she would be one. She grew up with a Garou sister, and her
peers were Garou as well. So when Hector's posture shifts beside her
she notices his calves tighten and heels spread. When he bristles and
his Rage stirs with the beginning ebb of defense, the flesh on Lola's
back prickles along with.
He said he didn't like how that guy was
looking at them, and Lola straightened up to her full height, which was
on the slightly taller side of average but not by much. It wasn't her
height that made her impressive, though, it was the way she held
herself. When she straightened her chest broadened from how she rolled
her shoulders back, her hips set sturdy and her chin was nudged a bit
higher than resting. Dark eyes returned to the man she'd assumed to be a
resident of the neighborhood, and similarly dark eyebrows crinkled
thoughtfully.
"Y'know, me either."
So, the brash Kinswoman
jerked her head upward and rolled her upper body into the motion just a
little-- the gesture would have matched well with swollen muscles and an
Afliction tee shirt.
"'Ey! The fuck you staring down,
huh? Keep moving if you know what's good." The shout was sharp and
openly confrontational. Feeling froggy? It said to jump.
Hector Ghosh
[doo de doo]
Dice: 6 d10 TN8 (2, 3, 8, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )
Hector Ghosh
[ack! - reflexive wp resist]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (7, 7, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
Hector Ghosh
Beside
her Hector laughs the short-lived huffing laugh of someone who oughtn't
find amusement in the situation but does anyway. They haven't been in
many situations where they've had to fend off interlopers before. He
knows she's a solid shot because he's seen her practice before and she
knows he can throw a punch because he's hit Corey more than a few times
only for Corey to laugh it off but most of his time in her presence and
at The Homestead has been peaceful.
The other person hears her.
The tweenagers probably hear her too but Lola and Hector can't hear the
tweenagers anymore. Something ripples in the air but they do not feel it
and they are not aware of it.
The stranger is tall and skinny.
Sallow. Lank-haired. Twitches when Lola addresses him and takes the
address as a sign he ought to engage. Comes forward at a skittering
unsteady pace and though he isn't running it's clear that he could, if
he wants to. His eyes aren't blind.
And Hector knows better than
to treat Lola like she can't handle herself but he can't really help it
and if she had her doubts as to why he was taken to coming around
bringing random pick-me-ups as presents and sleeping at her place and
insisting she come out into public with him because he can't go see this
movie by himself, well, here it is.
He steps forward to put
himself between a potential threat and her. Has nothing to do with
chivalry. He knows she can kick his ass.
"Shit," he says. "You think he's practicing for football tryouts? Looks like more of a basketballer to me."
They've
got about five seconds before the stranger is inside their personal
space. Thick blue veins stand out around his jaws and dried rivulets of
saliva - is that blood? - run from both sides of his mouth.
Lola Hawkes
Lola
stood like a pillar. She looked like she couldn't be moved, even if
she was dressed in some of the nicer clothes that she owned. The shorts
were flattering to her legs and hips, the undershirt was bleached white
and clean, and the overshirt had no tears or frays. She had some
mascara on, but that was all. No sense in dolling up just to sweat it
off through the day, after all. Despite the lack of levis and a
wifebeater, though, the Kinfolk still looked strong and healthy, but
more than that she looked confident and willing. Anyone could look like
they picked fights, but it took more than that to look like you would
finish them.
But all the same, when the man starts walking again,
this time the motion jerky and strange. The motion seemed disjointed
like it was edited in a horror movie to look more unnatural. This in
conjunction with the wave of discomfort and 'something's not right' that
pulsed through the air had the Kinfolk's jaw tightening and the humor
leaving her face.
It's been said before that Hector was lanky and
not a lot taller than Lola-- he skimmed the ceiling of six foot but
didn't quite make it, and wasn't bulky in his build. However, he still
stepped between his Kin and the man that had a stone of discomfort
sinking lower in her belly, and it looked appropriate. The Moon was in
his favor, and his handle on his Rage was a competant one-- it worked
for him.
It was perhaps for that reason if not for common sense
that Lola did not protest to the act of Hollywood chivalry. Rather, she
stepped nearer to his back and without letting her eyes leave the man
shambling toward them she spoke low at Hector's shoulder.
"My sidearm's in the truck-- should I get it?"
Lola Hawkes
[Init + 3 Dexterity + 3 Wits]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (9) ( success x 1 )
Hector Ghosh
hector
+7
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (10) ( success x 1 )
Hector Ghosh
baller
+5
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (1) ( fail )
Hector Ghosh
baller 2
+8
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (10) ( success x 1 )
Hector Ghosh
round one order aw yeah
baller 2: 18
hector: 17
lola: 16
baller 1: 6
Hector Ghosh
baller 1
declare: chomp on hector, no homo
Lola Hawkes
[Turn is Movement--Run to Truck & Open Door]
Hector Ghosh
hector
"THAT
WOULD BE GOOD!" he says to the matter of getting the sidearm as the
skinny beyond-the-veil-eyed man opens his mouth to reveal he has two
rows maybe more of razor-sharp teeth.
[action: grapple!]
baller 2
[dex + stealth: when you see a kinfolk running off to her car, DO THE CREEP]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 6, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
Hector Ghosh
hector
str + brawl: le grapple
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 5, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Hector Ghosh
baller 1
str + brawl: LE RESISTANCE
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (7, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )
Hector Ghosh
baller 1
dex + brawl: le chomp
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (1, 2, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )
Hector Ghosh
[dmg: str + 1 +1] [L]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 5, 7) ( success x 1 )
Hector Ghosh
[soak!]
Dice: 3 d10 TN8 (2, 2, 7) ( fail )
Hector Ghosh
[rage check for shits and giggles]
Dice: 5 d10 TN5 (1, 4, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )
Hector Ghosh
Folks
who walk away from car crashes and shootings can often only say in the
awed tones of those who are still stuck in the moment that it all
happened so fast. One never hears that from Garou gone through their
Rite of Passage, from Kinfolk who have seen gun battles break out as
quickly as they've been roused from a half-slumber in the dead of night
to tend to the aftermath of some battle or another they did not witness.
Their
exchange could well be their last: she reminds him of the presence of a
sidearm in her truck, he employs a mixture of sarcasm and alarm to lend
weight to the decision.
The last thing she hears before she's
gone out of earshot are her wiry tribesman struggling with an emaciated
possessed man and then the squelching of something sharp gone through
something soft, a bitten-back scream that turns into a snarl, like a
warning.
And she makes it to the truck. She throws open the door.
Nothing's there. The tweenagers are gone and no other cars keep hers
company. Bugs throw themselves against the lamp posts and the night
carries on without them.
Hector Ghosh
round two housekeeping
baller 2: OK, stealth moded
hector: 1L
lola: OK
baller 1: OK
Hector Ghosh
baller 1
declare: that was kind of fun, i wanna bite you again
Lola Hawkes
Hector
has force to his voice-- he throws sarcasm like a flag and that might
have been worth cuffing him in the back of the head for were it not for
the gravity of the situation. The emaciated man's lips peeled back
revealing a mouth crowded with multiple rows of teeth, with too many
teeth smashed together into a row, each one of them wickedly sharp--
like a shark or a leech.
Lola didn't real back or stumble or
hesitate. One moment she was at Hector's back, and the next her sandal
ripped some grass as she launched herself into a dead sprint back toward
the truck. It was fast going, they didn't stray far and the distance
to cover wasn't great.
When she got to the door she stopped her
momentum by smacking her chest and stomach into the vehicle's side, then
tore the door open, glad that she neglected to lock it in the first
place. She leaned forward, not bothering to climb in, and instead
reached her arm under the bench seat and felt around for a second before
fingers touched a leather case. The snaps on the case were popped open
with an exertion of force and the gun was put in her hands. The safety
was flipped from On to Off with her thumb, and she swung around again.
The
truck door stayed open, and Lola put her back to the open cab to
prevent her back from being open-- just like she'd been taught many
times before. Her arms flexed and the gun lifted, and she worked to
line a shot on the many-toothed shambler sinking its teeth into her
Tribemate.
[Retrieve gun and remove safety on it]
Hector Ghosh
hector
1a/b + 2R: punch baller a bunch of times
baller 2
She
sees a shadow come around the front of the truck and that's all the
warning she has before it's upon her: nearly six feet tall, built not
like a bodybuilder but like an athlete all the same, strawberry-blond
hair malnutrition-thin and bedraggled around her shoulders, the
emaciated guy's lady companion threatens to tear the driver's side door
off its hinges as she whips around to confront the half-blood in her
truck.
Barbs protrude from her knobby elbows and knees.
[declare: grab lola's ankles - will roll a grapple to drag her out of the truck next round]
Hector Ghosh
hector
1a: wap! -2 dice for first split. totally using his dex spec on this one.
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )
Hector Ghosh
LOL damage [B]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )
Hector Ghosh
baller 1
soak!
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (1, 6) ( success x 1 )
Hector Ghosh
1b: wallop! -3 dice.
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 5, 6, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 4 ) Re-rolls: 3
Hector Ghosh
[+3] [B]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 4, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
Hector Ghosh
baller 1
was that a stiff breeze?
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (4, 9) ( success x 1 )
Hector Ghosh
baller 1
chompsky
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (2, 5, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )
Hector Ghosh
[str + 1 +2] [L]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 4, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )
Hector Ghosh
[soak!]
Dice: 3 d10 TN8 (2, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )
Hector Ghosh
hector
RAGE PUNCH TIME #1
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5) ( fail )
Hector Ghosh
#2 :(
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 4 )
Hector Ghosh
[+3]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Hector Ghosh
baller 1
soak!
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (9, 9) ( success x 2 )
Hector Ghosh
[Giving Hector back 1 point of Rage for SUCKING.]
Hector Ghosh
round three embarrassment tally
baller 2: OK
hector: 1L, needs to get back in the kitchen
lola: OK
baller 1: 3B, thinks this is pretty funny
Hector Ghosh
baller 1
declare: one more ti-ime [biting, idk what's going to happen if no one dies this round]
Lola Hawkes
Lola
had no sooner turned and lifted her gun than something else caught her
attention. In the corner of her vision the toothy thing tried to bite
at Hector again, and Hector answered by thumping it uselessly with his
fists. He was growing frustrated, the creature he fought was
entertained, and Lola was busy with other things.
You see, the
thing that appeared trying to rip the truck door off its hinges nearly
scared the Kinfolk out of her skin. She jumped, hard, when the skinny
broad with stringy hair and spikes growing out of her joints appeared
and jerked on the door to open it further and give herself easier access
to the Kinfolk.
"Jesus fuck!"
The woman--
or what was once a woman-- leaned forward to reach for her, skinny
fingers grabbing and assumably stronger than they looked. Lola answered
with a language known universally -- gunpowder.
[Split Actions-- Two shots, point blank]
Hector Ghosh
hector
He
doesn't lose his temper easily. Ever, really, unless one is listening
to the story of the time Corey left the pack, and even the most warped
rendition doesn't have Hector losing his temper. If he's ever frenzied
he doesn't remember doing it. This isn't a frenzy. This is him deciding
he has better things to do with his night than have a slap fight with a
Wretched.
reflexive: -1R, snap-shift to crinos
1a/b + 1R: same as before only with claws this time
baller 2
And
the woman laughs a godawful laugh as she tightens her hands around
Lola's bare ankles and hauls. The spikes around her knuckles feel like
thorns.
declare: haul lola out of the truck
[str + brawl: YOINK.]
Hector Ghosh
Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (3, 4, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Lola Hawkes
[Resist Grapple: Strength 3 + Brawl 2]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )
Lola Hawkes
[Soak Lethal Damage: Stamina 4]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 7) ( success x 1 )
Lola Hawkes
[Forgot to change difficulty from 6 to 8-- that's no damage soaked!]
Lola Hawkes
[First Shot: Dexterity 3 + Firearms 3, -2 split action, -1 damage penalty -- 4 diff for Point Blank]
Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (5, 5, 7) ( success x 3 )
Lola Hawkes
[Lethal Damage: 6 (Heavy Revolver) + 2 suxx]
Dice: 8 d10 TN4 (1, 3, 3, 3, 6, 7, 7, 10) ( success x 4 )
Lola Hawkes
[Second Shot: Dexterity 3 + Firearms 3, -3 split action, -1 damage penalty -- 4 diff for Point Blank]
Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (3, 9) ( success x 1 )
Lola Hawkes
[Lethal Damage: 6 (Heavy Revolver)]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Hector Ghosh
baller 2: INCAPPED
Hector Ghosh
hector
1a: swipe! -2.
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 3, 3, 4) ( fail )
Hector Ghosh
1b: -3
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 7, 9, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
Hector Ghosh
[+3]
Dice: 11 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 8 )
Hector Ghosh
*slow clap*
Hector Ghosh
Maybe
it's the fact that he clean misses the first swing he takes. Or the
fact that he hears the growling and the yelling and the gunshots behind
him and has to fight off the urge to abandon the stupid struggle he's
in. Or he just really likes dramatic pauses and delayed payoff.
Tamsin
would say that Hector, being a drama queen, probably just wanted to
drag out the denouement for as long as was humanly possible so that when
he goes to tell the story later it sounds like way bigger a deal than
it actually was. Like why would he shift to his war form right away when
he could bat the guy around in his human skin for a while?
This
is a warrior poet who doesn't have any battle scars not because he's
never been injured but because he's never died. He's seen other people
die and he knows that they are not truly dead not because they live on
through tales because sometimes tales gather dust and blow away on the
wind. But because their spirits go to a place green and endless and
beautiful.
Behind him one shot takes a twisted woman's unholy arm
off at the shoulder and the unfortunate doesn't have time to scream
before the next round goes through her head. Her boyfriend meets a
similarly quick end a moment later. After weathering three weak punches
and one miss, his entire body north of the equator explodes into ribbons
of wet red.
Seconds pass. No birds sing. Hector melts back into
his birth skin and after another second to assure himself of the fact
that the poor bastard isn't getting back up and he cannot see any more
in the distance he turns around and runs back to the truck.
Lola Hawkes
BLAM!
BLAM!
The
gunshots hurt her ears-- they always do if you don't have your cans
on. Sound was washed out and replaced by a dull ringing, so she didn't
know for sure that the woman didn't quite have the chance to scream.
All she knew was the first shot from the heavy Magnum tore through the
woman's shoulder and rended her arm from her body, save for a few cords
of skin and sinew that stretch and fail when the weight of the arm drops
and hangs. The second shot went through the woman's head, spraying
blood and tissue out the back across the grass.
Lola was a mess of
blood. It splashed her clothes and face and limbs. It dripped down
her bare legs and smeared when she swept a palm hastily over her face to
make sure it didn't get in her eyes and mouth. She glanced up in time
to see Hector-- no longer a man, but a Monster-- dragging claws through
the body of his foe like it was nothing more than soft butter. The
carnage is similar to what was near the truck, but worse because it was
made by claws.
Hector slipped back to his human skin and began
running back to the truck, and Lola's answer was to shake her head and
wave her arm at him in big gestures-- signalling for him to go back.
"Clean up," she yelled. "Grab him, throw him in the truck! We can't leave them-- grab and go!"
Thorns
were still stuck in her ankles, made from god knows what-- flesh?
Callouses? Bone? She wasn't sure. She was leaning down, cringing, to
pluck them free and toss them aside when she heard the wet gurgling
sound to indicate that the woman still lived. That was corrected not
with another gunshot, but instead with a hard stomp of the heel of her
flat sandal into the woman's windpipe. The fewer gunshots fired into
the air the better-- they had to bail and they had to hurry.
Hector Ghosh
Relief
washes over his naked-honest face when he sees she's okay. Relatively.
Can't tell that she has injuries of her own underneath the blood and
meat and brain splashed over her like chum splashed up out of a bucket,
any more than she can tell that he has a gaping but not even remotely
fatal wound on his neck underneath the splashed remains of his own kill.
And
then she signals. And he skids to a halt, the rubber on his work boots
scratching against the asphalt with how hard he brakes, and he wheels
around and runs back in the other direction.
"Ugh," he says mostly
to himself and it isn't disgust but annoyance. Like why couldn't he
have exploded into smaller pieces. Hector throws the limbs and the
organs that would be identified as human into the man's now-empty torso
and if he could pray to anything other than Gaia he wears the expression
of a man who would but Gaia bids him combat the Wyrm and this human
form was of the Wyrm.
No angst or guilt here. Just a goddamn mess
that he grabs by the ankles and hustles across the grass back to the
truck. Helps Lola load the corpses into the back of the truck and cover
them so they can take the back roads to The Homestead and hope a state
trooper doesn't grab them.
As he swings himself back into the
passenger seat careful not to touch anything with his bloody right hand
he says, "At least it's supposed to rain tonight?"
Lola Hawkes
While
Hector was turned about and busy trying to gather up the diced remains
of the man-monster he'd turned into a corpse, Lola flinched from the
impact of her foot on the woman's throat but opted not to waste time
trying to pluck the quills out of her ankles just yet. Instead she just
dealt with it-- the pain was uncomfortable, and the weight of her body
being supported on feet and ankles didn't help the situation, but as
she'd expressed to Hector they needed to go.
He knew Lola was a
solid woman, and that she could best plenty of men in a fist fight. She
packed power behind her punches, but that power could be applied to
other things as well-- such as dead lifting. The body of the woman
wasn't difficult to handle because of weight because the
strawberry-blond had been elongated into a skinny bag of bones with
whatever transformation she'd gone through. It was, however, awkward,
and Hector's hands certainly helped finish rolling the woman into the
bed of the truck after Lola had gotten her mostly lifted up.
With
both bodies in the bed of the truck, and a tarp hastily thrown over them
and weighted by rocks, Lola clambored into the truck behind the wheel
and turned the engine to life. Quick as a whip (Hector would find
himself thrown against the window) she was out of the parking lot and
driving away from the park. Once up a few blocks she found the speed
limit and drove casually. Luckily it was later at night, the battle had
been quick, and there weren't spectators apart from heads poked out
windows that could later report a truck (Was it white or tan? Or was it
silver? I don't remember, but it was kind of old. I think--) but no
licence plate number.
"Mercifully," was Lola's answer. She still
hadn't pulled the spines from her ankles, and the tightness to her
expression, particularly about the mouth and eyebrows, betrayed this
fact. She still hadn't noticed the gouge in Hector's own flesh,
though. It hid beneath his foe's blood and her eyes were on the road
instead.
Hector Ghosh
He doesn't buckle his seatbelt. Combination of the youthful delusion of immortality coupled with a werewolf's air of it.
In
his human skin Hector is muscular but skinny. His skin stays dark even
in wintertime and he used to take off his shirt all the time when he was
at The Homestead because it used to make Glen and Maria laugh their
asses off when he did it. Tamsin would wrinkle her nose. Still does.
Gets worse if his hair's down. But in all the weeks that he's been back
since Lola's sister died, since his pack split as violently as the
bodies of the dead now in the bed of the truck, Lola has not seen him
bare like that again.
The flash she saw of him in his war form was
nine feet tall. Chiseled and black-furred. His jewelry is dedicated to
his form. Could have been someone else, anyone else, for she did not
witness the transformation though she heard the snarl and the whisper of
claws through the body and the popping and cracking of a body going
there and back.
A lingering darkness, maybe, as he does not try to
make her laugh once they're on the road. He stares out the window for a
while as he absorbs what happened. He will recall it perfectly later,
even the things he does not know now that he remembers.
After a
time he looks over at her and she can feel the weight of his eyes in the
darkness though his Rage is that of a spirit-talker's now.
"Are you hurt?" he asks.
Lola Hawkes
Quiet
envelops them, interrupted only once they reach the highway. Out there
Lola decides that the cab of the truck is too cramped-- that the blood
drying on her skin is too itchy, or that the adrenaline in her system is
making her sweat too badly. Either way she leans to the left, toward
her door, and cranks the manual lever to roll the window down a few
times. Then the cab is filled with the sound of wind rushing in and
out. It's noisy, borderline obnoxious at sixty miles an hour, but it
cools the sweat at Lola's brow and gives her more air to breathe.
A
dozen miles or so up the road, after Hector has had time to fall back
into the battle in his mind and run through it, gather details and
remember what happened for later (as such was his Job, his Moon, his
Nature), his attention shifts. Rather than focusing out the window at
the dark he looks at Lola's profile and sees the sweat on her face,
unrelated to actual temperature, and sees the pinched expression she
holds as well.
When he asks if she's hurt, she nodded but followed
up with a quick borderline indignant huff. "Bitch had quills like a
porcupine-- had them in her hands too. She grabbed me and a couple
broke off in my ankles when I jerked away from her. Haven't had a
chance to pull them out is all. It'll be fine-- I haven't turned blue
or black or started frothing at the mouth yet, so I doubt it's poison."
Hector Ghosh
She
was more efficient and acted quicker than he did tonight. Didn't have
the swinging scythe of Rage to duck away from but she has the
copper-tang of adrenaline in her throat, the human tendency to freeze up
when the heart rate gets away from you. In spite of the blood and the
mess no one will say they could have done better.
No one will say
she would have done better if she were Garou. They might joke that in
the dyad between the two Uktena that Lola ought to have been born true
and Hector the one expected to stay home and take care of the land and
the people on the land. He is the one running a damage report now while
she thinks of the veil and the destruction of the bodies and gets them
there quick and without notice.
"I've got something that can
help," he says. "A Water spirit bound into a talen, like your kin-fetch.
When we get there I'll give you one."
Careful with his wording, too. Not use one on you. Not heal you.
"See, though, if I'd gone and seen that movie by myself, I'd be in some hot water right about now."
Lola Hawkes
The
last comment that Hector made broke the tension, and Lola answered with
a laugh that, while more mellow, still came from the belly. A grin
took the place of the grimace that was there previously, and she swung
her arm out the window to let it rest on the door and direct the breeze
up to her torso to more effectively cool her.
Anyone will tell you
Lola should have been a Garou. They might even speculate that she was
intended to be one, and that's why the Wise Woman misread her birthright
when she was a babe. The might say that the spirits had something to
do with it, or say that her mother, a Uktena Theurge, had made a bargain
with spirits and sacraficed her daughter's Heritage to serve as payment
(that was one rumor that resulted in a broken nose and browbone, and
Lola needing to be pulled off another young woman before Rage stole her
away).
This reflected in the night-- presented with immediate
danger Lola acted harshly and without remorse. She did not hesitate to
kill, did not freeze up in the face of danger. This was what she knew,
and something that she yearned for from time to time. She felt a need
to test her mettle, just to prove that she could still be of use in
battle, and that she was worth more than just the average Kingirl. Some
might speculate that on the other side of the coin maybe Hector should
have been the Kinfolk instead. His concern was not immediately for the
Veil, but rather for well being. Was his Kinswoman okay? Was he okay?
Was everyone dead? Lola was only invested to see that they were both
standing and breathing-- injuries could be tallied later. Protect the
Veil, Slaughter the Wyrm, all of that was at the forefront of her mind.
But,
the stars were aligned another way, and it was Hector who had been
graced with the ability to Change, who had been given a sleek-furred
body that dealt damage and soaked it up with ease because it was
Nature's Weapon. Lola had to run for a gun. He was Garou, she was
Kinfolk, and that's the way things were.
"I think you would've had
it-- you just shouldn't have pussyfooted around shifting is all. Once
you changed you had it all under control."
-------------------
It's
a forty minute drive from Lola's house to Littleton, and it passes
quickly. Soon they've rolled up to the house and pulled the truck
around back. There's a stand alone garage back there, and within it are
tools that one would assume are intended for cleaning and butchering
game meats. They work delightfully for dismantling bodies to be burned,
though, and that's precisely what Lola puts them to use for.
She
won't tell Hector not to help any more than he'll try and chase her away
from a duty she's taken upon herself, so they work together through the
night to further break down the bodies until they fit comfortably
between two big open oil drums, emptied out, designed specifically for
burning animal (right, animal) remains that served no other purpose.
The
smoke would stink and wisp into the sky. Earlier, when they'd arrived,
Lola had pulled the quills from her ankles, and at some point later
she'd accept the Talen that Hector offered to repair her ankles back the
way they ought to be.
It's about three thirty in the morning when
the fires can finally go down, and Lola's too exhausted to shower, too
dirty to climb into her bed. Hector's in a similar boat. So, Lola
brings a pair of quilts out from the back of the truck and lays them on
the grass and recommends they sleep there. The sun will wake them soon
enough, after all.
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