Hector Ghosh
The day is nice and bright and dry and
Hector has been a presence around the Caern since nightfall doing
whatever it is he does when he isn't annoying the spirits or the other
Cliaths or the Warders or whoever happens to be walking past.
Patrolling, like as not. Doing other heavy-lifting chores because heavy
lifting is a pastime revered by those who are trying to get jacked so
their packsisters stop accusing them of being scrawny.
At this
particular moment he's just lounging on a rock whittling some sort of
instrument out of a piece of wood he found floating around with a
hunting knife.
It looks like a completely innocuous flute-type
thing from a distance. Really what it is is a distraction while he waits
for someone more loquacious than his kinswoman to wander past.
Hector Ghosh
[dex + crafts: how shitty is this flute-type thing going to be when it's done?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9) ( success x 4 )
Keisha Ballard
She's
been near death and around near-death and she's had death on her mind
and pretty much been tap-dancing on death all week. Probably longer
than all week, but this week in particular has been a killer. (Ha, ha.)
And yet, Keisha is still out, doing her duty to spiritually tend to
the septs in whatever way they need. Today she was at Roxborough,
meditating in order to establish a little extra peace of mind before she
did a little talking with the spirits that inhabit the place.
That
accomplished, she's making her way out to just...wander a bit. Keisha
doesn't do especially well when she's on her own; her thoughts come to
visit and they aren't often great thoughts. It's better, having a pack
that she can feel. They keep her balanced, keep her propped up.
They've helped immensely.
Still though, she's looking tired as
she walks along, chancing toward where Hector is. Her dreads are
hanging free, her body wrapped in a green shirt long, flowing sleeves.
A sarong-style skirt in warm brown covers the lower half of her body
and her sandals as well. Her staff is in-hand and she looks up, smiling
faintly and raising a hand to wave to Hector.
Thomas Delacroix
Speaking
of wandering, Thomas comes wandering onto the path from somewhere
deeper in the park. He's not worried about things like ambushes here,
so he doesn't notice Hector and Keisha until he's practically on top of
them. His eyes widen for a half second, because people from nowhere,
but then he registers who it is and he grins.
"Hey." Keisha, who is on the ground, gets a little nudge with his shoulder, and then he leans into her to whisper something.
Lola Hawkes
Last
night Lola came home sometime around one o' clock. The house was
quiet, and when she glanced in the bedroom she found it empty. Hector
was out for the night. A little disappointed, but perfectly capable of
getting over it, Lola had a full glass of water and a shower before
climbing into bed.
When she woke up that morning she discovered
she'd slept quite a bit later than usual-- the sun was well into the sky
by the time she'd opened her eyes. She was surprised and a little
upset with herself, but decided that shooting an innocent teenager's
brains across a parking lot warranted a few extra hours of sleep. She
had a late cup of coffee and lounged in the living room for about twenty
minutes. When that ritual had passed she dressed herself in a pair of
jeans, boots, a red-purple-pink-yellow plaid shirt and a white insulated
vest to keep her torso warm if the weather were to decide to grow
chill. Hiking boots were tugged onto her feet, her hair was wrapped
back into a sloppy bun at the back of her head. With a pack slung over
her shoulder full with a large water bottle and some lunch and other
errant supplies, she was out and on her way to start the daily routine
of patroling the Bawn.
About three hours later, when she's getting
ready to stop for lunch, she catches sight of a trio of bodies up on a
mild plateau an eighth of a mile away, down the hill from where she
was. She didn't keep binoculars, but her vision was perfectly fine and
after shielding the sun out of her eyes she was able to get a good idea
of all three, for she recognized each of them well.
The backpack
straps were adjusted on her shoulders, and Lola started her long-legged
and steady, ground-consuming stride to close the distance and come to
meet where the three Wolves gathered. It would be good to have an
excuse to take longer sitting and having her lunch, anyways. She hadn't
been able to quite wake up entirely today and was feeling tired again.
Hector Ghosh
Either
he hasn't been anywhere near a mirror since the last time either of
them ran patrols with him or someone told him that he actually looks
better with whatever that is growing on his jaws is supposed to be but
Hector has his hair down instead of yanked back with a band and about a
month's worth of beard grown onto a face that doesn't support full beard
growth at this stage in his life. Maybe by the time he's 50.
So
he looks up and he looks like he's been living out here instead of
sleeping in a bed and showering everyday. His eyes flash in the bright
daylight and for a moment as Keisha waves at him he looks about as wild
as he does when he's stood before a fire recounting something someone
did involving the Wyrm.
It passes. He smiles back at her and waves
and then catches sight of Thomas. Starts to draw a breath to holler
something obnoxious at the younger male but then he and Keisha
whispering and Hector's sitting there with a wooden instrument in one
hand and a big-ass knife in the other. His work boots leave the rock so
that he ends up sliding standing again. Cants his head at both of them
and squints one eye like he's trying to sort out what they're whispering
about but doesn't come any closer.
A twig snaps or he senses
movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns towards Lola and you'd
think she was the one who didn't come home last night by the way he has
to fight to keep from looking happy to see her. He waves to her with the
hand holding the flute and then turns his accusatory gaze back towards
the Coggie and the Shadow Lord.
"So!" he says in a bright tone of
voice. It borders on sing-song. Like he knows he doesn't know what they
know and it's driving him up a tree. "How was everyone's night?"
Keisha Ballard
She
isn't paying attention to anything other than Hector at that moment and
she jumps, startled, when Thomas is suddenly there, saying Hey
and nudging her and whispering in her ear. She chills out quickly
though and whatever he says, it puts a small smile of amusement on her
face, glancing at Hector and the rock he's sitting on.
"It'll do
in a pinch. We can go take a closer look to make sure." she says in
response, walking on over. "Hey, Hector. How's it going?" He follows
the Uktena's gaze to Lola and watches her come up for a long moment
before giving a little nod to the kin and then looking back, frowning in
response to Hector's question. However it went for everyone else, it
wasn't Keisha's favorite night in recent memory, and that bar isn't very
high. "Yeah, it was a night. I am one hundred percent leaving it
right there. Yours?"
She starts to settle down where she was to sit for a moment.
Thomas Delacroix
"No
one died," Thomas says, as he and Keisha reach where Hector is.
"So...win." It may not have been his favorite night, but the bar to
truly traumatic has been set pretty high for Thomas lately. No one dead
or missing or in need of supervision after trauma...well...that is a
night that went just fine as far as he is concerned. He glances at
Keisha, who has the misfortune to care about the brains of people who
aren't part of the Nation being on the pavement and sighs. "Kind of,"
he amends. For her sake.
"Hey, Lola." He gives her a flash of a smile. "It's been ages," he says in a tone that is all playing.
And
then, he turns to Hector. Because Hector is always manhandling him,
but Thomas is never really actually initiating that. Also, there is
Lola. That's...whatever it is. "You haven't said anything actually
obnoxious yet. You okay?" He asks, in the same playful tone he just
gave Lola.
Lola Hawkes
From where Lola's able to
be spotted making her way down one hillside to join them up on their
slight grassy plateau, Hector waves happily and Keisha nods. They both
get a mutual wave, a broad motion where she passes her entire arm over
the top of her head in either direction once, twice, before letting it
drop to her side again.
It's surprising how little time it takes
her to close the distance. She was a woman of average height, and
though she erred on the side of leggy that shouldn't make the
difference. Yet, somehow, she manages not just to find a wide stride
angle that consumes distance like fire does dry grass, but she also
manages to keep it without becoming winded or lagging.
Usually.
Today, though, as she approaches them, her step drags just a little and
she huffs a single breath in order to regain her regular breathing
rhythm.
"Eons," she agrees with Thomas when he greets her, and
though her tone is a little flat she still grins to the Shadow Lord. To
Keisha, she offers a nod and a glance over, eyes going down to toes and
back up to her face. It's the same way that many Garou will look at
the Kinfolk under their watch, surveying for damage or injury and making
sure all was well. "You healed up all the way, then? Good. Were back
up on your feet in an instant, though, like a champ." The last is
provided like a compliment, as though it meant something for a Garou to
be told that they were good in battle by a Kinfolk.
For Hector she
may have been about to say one thing, but was stopped and her greeting
was changed by the whittled wood in his hand. "Well that's neat."
Hector Ghosh
It was a night. She is one hundred percent leaving it there.
Say
whatever else you want to say about him but Hector is sharper than he
looks. He has eyes the color of blood-stained rock and a demeanor that
lends itself easily to supporting the idea that he is distant and a bit
unhinged even if one does get to know him. A sense of humor and a
charming disposition will only take a person so far and Keisha doesn't
generally find him either funny or charming.
She asks how his
night was and Hector just waits out Thomas's response. His face doesn't
do much insofar as alerting any of them to his thoughts goes. Which
catches Thomas's attention.
Lola comes up to join them and he
shoves his hunting knife back into the sheath on the waistband of his
jeans. No belt in sight but the sheath is clipped on all the same. He's
got a small medicine bag tied onto an empty loop on the opposite hip.
Once the knife is out of his hand he reaches out to briefly grip Lola by
the crown of her head, like that's a proper way to greet a woman, and
blows into the flute without trying.
His handiwork is solid. The
open G is clear if a bit flat. Once he cleans it up it will do what he
needs it to do. He holds the note for a good three beats and then points
at Thomas.
"I'll show you obnoxious." Which would be Thomas's
sign to get running. Hector steps towards him. The Shadow Lord's about
to go into a headlock.
Keisha Ballard
She smiles a
little bit when Lola compliments her. "Yeah, I'm good as now. And
thanks." Keisha's all about letting go of stuff with people, least as
long as it's not herself. She knows that everyone has their own way of
handling things; it's only rare moments where she gets preachy about her
ideals (usually not in ways that she comes out looking particularly
right in), and now is not one of those times.
She's not
inobservant, either; her brow furrows when she notices that Lola's
dragging a little, and her head cocks to the side. "What about you?
Are you okay?"
And then, suddenly there is about to be some kind
of scuffle. She looks between Thomas and Hector, brow raising even as
she smiles a touch. "If you guys fall on me, I'm gonna start bopping
heads with the staff. Fair warning"
Thomas Delacroix
Lola
gets more of a grin, at her response. Though, it bears mentioning that
Lola, like Keisha, also gets a look for a second like he's figuring out
if he should be concerned. But then Keisha is already asking and
Thomas is....
...well, this is not actually playful. But it looks
like it and sounds like it and at least it is easier to be around than
when he's actively sulking. Or completely unwilling to be more than
barely engaged with anything.
"Fair enough," Thomas says, laughing
and putting a bit of distance between himself and Keisha, because it
probably would be best not to go tumbling onto her. Probably. It
doesn't look like she'd play. At least not right now.
And then
his eyes track back to Hector. He probably is about to end up in a
headlock, but he seems more amused than concerned about that.
Lola Hawkes
Hector
greeted her by reaching out with one hand and grasping the top of her
head. From what Keisha and Thomas both knew of Lola, this was the sort
of thing that she would swat away. With Hector they'd expect that it
would be playfully, but that she may reach out and smack him in the
chest or gut as retaliation for getting her head nabbed. But instead
she accepted the gesture for what it was, and flashed the other Uktena a
smile that pulled one side of her mouth more dominantly than the other.
Then
the Galliards were teasing one another, Hector approaching Thomas, and
the intent was made clear that things were about to get physical. Oh,
not in any harmful way. Keisha gave warning that she not be pulled into
the fray, and Lola moved to lean back against the rock that Hector had
been seated on, propping her rear end on a corner and sitting with her
weight half-supported by her lock-kneed legs as well.
Her pack was
swung off her back and set on top of her shins, and she leaned down to
unzip and pull the bottle of water free. Keisha asked how she was
doing, and Lola raised her eyebrows in moderate surprise and question to
the Theurge before shrugging one shoulder and continuing through the
motion of taking a drink from her big orange plastic water bottle.
When
finished drinking, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and
held the bottle out in offering to Keisha along with her answer. "Yeah,
I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all."
Hector Ghosh
"Head bopping. Got it."
A
moment later he's practically on top of Thomas and he's got the younger
Galliard around the back of the neck. No real pressure. He's careful
not to clamp down on his arteries or smash his windpipe with his bony
arm but he's still clinched. Nothing like a bit of lighthearted
homoerotic male-dominance bullshit to liven the mood after a night of
brain-splattering and near-death.
Once he has Thomas in the
headlock he starts to drag him further from Keisha and looks up from the
scuffling to give both eyes to his kinswoman. One would think if anyone
would be concerned of reports of her looking tired it would be him but
it didn't occur to him that she was dragging for any reason other than
she was up late and slept late until the other two started asking.
"I keep telling her," he says, "she stays up late partying, she's gonna be tired at school the next day, but does she listen?"
With his free hand he blows a low judgmental note through the flute.
Keisha Ballard
She's
already recovering nicely, to her credit. As we said, Keisha doesn't
do well on her own; like most Garou, she is a social creature although
her social leanings are sometimes seem more human than Gaian. So she
lets a small grin slip out as the two Galliards start to rough house,
watching them a moment. It's so very different from the pack of
Theurges she's part of, for so many reasons; they're all female and far
from a war pack while Hector and Thomas are higher in their rage than
any of them, and have the testosterone to boot. It's completely
opposite of the multi-racial girl's style and sensibilities but she
enjoys seeing the camaraderie there.
Lola says that she's just
tired, and Keisha is a little curious about the look of surprise that
raises the kinfolk's eyebrows. She waves off the water bottle with a
grateful look. "Thanks, I'm good. And I can get that. It's been a
tiring time all around." And she ain't whistlin' Dixie there; whether
because of the increased activity everyone's been taking part
in--patrols, spiritual help, generally tending to things at one sept or
the other--or because of the stresses that all the goings on with
Beloved Horror and tension through the two Septs, it's not an easy
time. Lola's holding up very well in the Child of Gaia's estimation,
all things considered.
"Hey, we all need gotta do it how we gotta
do it, right?" That's in response to Hector's wisecrack as she leans
back a bit, resting her weight on a hand placed on the ground behind
her.
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas is, beyond any doubt,
fine with being manhandled in general. Hector's had him by the
shoulders on plenty of occasions now with barely more than a blink,
sometimes not even that. There is a second, when Hector locks an arm
around his neck where his eyes widen and he tenses a little. But it's
Hector, so in about the time it would take to even register that
response it's gone, and he goes practically limp, rendering dragging him
a far more annoying task than if he was keeping on his feet to
struggle.
He does glance at Keisha and Lola, but caught in a
headlock, even a relatively careful one, isn't the most perfect time for
talking. They seem good anyway.
Lola Hawkes
Keisha
and Thomas were probably left with an impression of Lola from the night
before that she was an.... well, not the most pleasant person, we'll
say. Thomas has seen Lola outside of a patrol and battle scenario once
before, and she seemed fine there if a little gruff. The majority of
either wolf's familiarity with her, though, is on business. When she's
out walking and looking for trouble, pruning it from the city or suburbs
that lay south of it. Then she's hard-mouthed and trigger happy.
She's abrasive and blunt and quick to escalate to violence.
They
might have expected her to be snappish here in a more relaxed setting,
where they're on Gaia's land with no immediate threat or danger about
them. To their probable delight, she isn't though. Instead Lola is
happy to relax, and when the conversation turns to how she's doing and
the three say what they will about her feeling tired she just shakes her
head.
"I suppose," to the fact that it's been tiring. Hector
gets a glance, a smirk, and a flash of the middle finger before Lola
sets her water bottle on the ground and fishes for a protein bar
instead.
While pleasant, she isn't the most talkative person at
this current time. She seems more happy to slide down the rock until
she's sitting with her rump on the ground and knees bent outward, and to
eat her incredibly portable lunch while watching Hector manhandle
Thomas, and Thomas go limp and resist as passively as possible.
Hector Ghosh
The
last thing he sees before he ends up on the ground is Lola pairing off a
smirk and a middle finger. He lifts his eyebrows in affected surprise
before glancing around at non-existent onlookers.
"Oh, real
nice," he says, like either of them are ever concerned with impressing
anybody. "That's how you're gonna introduce yourself to my mother, huh?
'Nice to meet you, Missus Ghosh...'"
He tosses the flute aside not so he can imitate Lola but so he can wrestle Thomas onto his back without hurting either of them.
"Who's obnoxious now, motherfrakker?" he asks. Stops to dry-spit like he'd wound up with grass in his mouth during the maneuver.
Keisha Ballard
The
flipping of the bird (and Hector's quick response) give Keisha a bit of
a chuckle. This is more what she's used to. I mean, wrestling
aside...there is a familiarity here and a camaraderie that she
appreciates between Thomas and Hector, and Hector and Lola and even that
earlier playful banter between the Shadow Lord and the Uktena kin.
She's a girl on the outside of this friendly comfort and ease between
eachy other, but she seems to be comfortable with that as she tips her
had to the side, settles in and watches.
"Oh yeah, Hector. That
totally proves that you're not the obnoxious one." It's said with an
amused smirk as she raises the hand that isn't supporting her to run
through her dreads, free one from the tacngling embrace of the other. A
little shake of her head completes the job and she lets out a slow,
easy breath as she settles in comfortably to just be an observer.
Taking in their good moods so it can bolster her own.
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
struggles, definitely still playing, for a moment before he's pinned.
He's maybe not in impressive physical condition in homid, but even
playing, it's still evident the kid's spent some time fighting. Or,
judging by his general attitude toward the world, maybe practicing more
than fighting. He doesn't seem exactly the type to have picked this up
by going out looking for people to fight with.
Because really,
let's be serious a minute, Thomas just seems to have so little of the
aggression or passion you'd expect from a Galliard at all. Lola comes
closer to matching with an auspice than he does and she. Isn't. Even.
Trueborn. Sure, he'll surrender to violence easily enough, and once
he's committed to it he certainly isn't gentle, but until that moment
where he has to commit...there is so rarely any real display of
intensity.
So it is hardly surprising that within a moment or
three he's pinned and letting his shoulders relax and his head tilt a
little sideways, exposing his throat. Just long enough to demonstrate
that Hector wins, and this is done, at least for now, before he looks
back at Hector and laughs. "Yeah," he says, still smiling. "You
totally showed me."
Lola Hawkes
Hector feigns
insult from the ground, where he resituates and flips Thomas over on his
back to pin him down by his shoulders. Lola's answer to that is to
laugh, the sound punctuated here or there with the crinkling of the
wrapper that tore while she freed her 'meal' from it. "Yeah, and then I
pop your dad one in the nose and ask him how his day at work was."
From
there, though, she seemed content to just sit and munch away on the
powerbar, leaned back against the rock. After a minute her head would
be resting against it too, and the powerbar having been consumed with
efficient quickness meant that she would soon be washing it down with
more water.
Attention would switch from the playfighting boys,
Thomas showing Hector that he was the alpha without even putting up a
fight (tsk, for shame), and Lola would look to Keisha instead.
"So
that necklace got disposed of and all, right? The Silver Fang was
still carryin' it around when I left you guys last night, if I remember
right."
Hector Ghosh
If Hector were actually
trying to dominate or even hurt Thomas this would have veered so far out
of the realm of horseplay it wouldn't even be funny. The Shadow Lord
and the kinswoman have seen him in his war form or his wolf skin and
they've seen how quickly he can tear down something larger than meaner
than he is. Never seen him get into a fight in his birth form before but
despite being a lanky homeless-looking son of a bitch the Uktena could
hurt someone if he isn't careful.
They're just screwing around
though. Thomas shows his throat without making Hector work for it and
that takes all the fun out of it. The older Cliath heaves a world-weary
sigh and drums flat palms on Thomas's chest one-two-three-four times
before flipping himself over to lie on his back beside him.
And
then Lola is back to discussing serious things. Hector elbows Thomas
before he can get too far into escaping, sits up and hauls him back into
the grass if he has to.
"What necklace?" he asks in a low voice.
Keisha Ballard
"Hmm?" She was lost in watching the two guys wrestle around for a moment (no, not watching like that)
and takes a moment to register the question. Once she does,
realization dawns and she looks apologetic for having taken that
moment. "Oh! Right...yeah." She nods to Lola. "Yeah, Sophia and I
took it out to a safe spot, I cleansed it and then we freed the spirit
inside. It wasn't a Bane, it was just a really angry memory spirit that
had been trapped in there for a long time. Everything's good there." She smiles a little at that. Sure, there were some tense moments and
Keisha nearly died and all of that. But she's increasingly sloughing
all of that off and it's easier for her to focus on the important part.
Everyone lived, and the spirit was freed. And as long as it's only her
that almost died, she can accept that.
Her eyes drift to Hector
when he asks about the necklace. "Oh, while we were all out on patrol
with Reese and Sophia, we ran across a bunch of kids who had gotten
their hands on this necklace somehow. Nothing evil about them, just
typical dumb teenagers," ...says the nineteen-year-old, but she's older
than her age permits. "...and the spirit took them over, shoved some
dark impulses into their brains. They attacked us, we handled it,
spirit dealt with."
A little smile. She's no Galliard after all;
she gets right down to the point and doesn't make a production of the
story. "Everything worked out, really."
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
seems content to stay there, not even trying to escape. He lets Keisha
give the bare bones version of the story she gives, and doesn't go into
the dramatic detailed rendition of events. It might be so that Keisha
doesn't have to hear about the glorious shot Lola took at that boy, or
the way that death was robbed twice that night; but, considering that he
is actually being still and something like calm it might also be that
he doesn't really want to do the intense re-living of that thing that
the story would require. Keisha seems older than nineteen and
Thomas...Thomas might seem younger than that most of the time. Still,
those kids were about their age and separated by a margin that keeps
seeming to slim itself down anytime Thomas stops focusing on it.
Also,
as evidenced at the moot at least, he'd have to get up for proper
storytelling. And who wants to do that right now? Particularly when now
he's not really in easy expression-reading distance of Lola or Keisha,
who both call him on things when he doesn't put on a face. They aren't
the only tired ones. And Hector...is close enough to read his not
playful mask face well enough, but until Hector calls him on that he
gets to see actual expressions for a minute. If he's even paying
attention, which...maybe there are clouds to watch instead or something.
"Yeah," he says absently. "Everything is fine now."
Lola Hawkes
"That's
good," Lola says to Keisha, and that's about where it rests. The
necklace was discarded of, the spirit inside that had made it impact
those dumb teenagers the way it did had been released, and just for
safety's sake the relic was cleansed before being gotten rid of.
Hector
asked about the necklace, and Keisha told the bare story of what
happened. Thomas, a Galliard who should probably be taking the part of
telling the story the way it should be told, opts not to and simply
agrees with Keisha that everything was fine.
Lola, apparently
unable to pick up on the fact that the other two might not want to
relive the experience, provided the highlights.
"Yeah, this gal
and her four friends were hanging out in the 'burbs between here and
Denver. Came up and asked if we wanted to party. Then her eyes went
dark, and her friends joined and their eyes went black too, right?
"It was over pretty quick, but in that time that Glass Walker Kinsman got cut up pretty good and Keisha got the shit
sliced out of her. That Silver Fang had to heal her, but when she did
Keisha here was up on her feet in a heartbeat and ganked the necklace
right off from around the bitch's neck with her staff-- that was pretty
awesome, by the way, Keisha. When the necklace was off they all went
back to normal."
Lola cleared her throat before continuing. "We
kicked up a bit of a fuss. I blew one of the kid's brains 'cross the
parking lot and the girl started weeping her head off over him once she
came back too. But we had healers, so he's all better now. That and
Keisha -- again, girl, you were killin' it last night -- and the Glass
Walker guy managed to talk the townsfolk out of calling us in or making a
deal out of it.
"So, yeah, no harm no foul. But the story was way cooler than either of these two made it out to be."
Hector Ghosh
As
Lola fills in gaps Hector sucks on an eyetooth and considers her. The
other two can see his gaze going a bit distant not as she talks about
people hitting the ground and getting back up but as that Glass Walker
Kinsman -- he's going to go ahead and assume that's Reese from the
warmoot, ooOOOoo who's Reese from the morning after the bar fire in the cafeteria -- got cut up pretty bad.
One
of the downsides of being a good storyteller is that he has a vivid
fucking imagination. He reaches around behind Thomas to pluck up the
rough flute from its place in the grass and blows a series of flat
notes.
"All three of you suck at telling stories."
This is a
guy who doesn't even get sweaty palms or a dry mouth before getting up
in front of a few hundred Garou he's never met or spoken to and jumping
around reenacting battles that starred no one more important or
noteworthy than a couple of Cliaths. To accuse a stoic kinswoman, a
newbie auspicemate, or an old-school isakku-wielding healer of sucking
at telling stories isn't harsh criticism.
He says it mild, too,
like he can understand why Keisha wouldn't want to regale a possessed
human dropping her in one fell swoop or why Thomas wouldn't want to
relive his boyfriend being near-eviscerated.
"One time me and
Glen..." Thomas and Keisha have no clue who that is or why he would
hesitate before finishing the story. "Glen was a Fostern Ragabash ran
with Celduin until a few months ago. He's dead now. Anyway, we were
walking through this strip mall parking lot in New York in the middle of
the day and we ran across this group of high schoolers must've been
cutting class. We were like Oh okay whatever just ignore them high schoolers are vicious but they tried to fight us! Glen looked like this big stupid teddy bear that wouldn't harm a fly and I mean--"
He indicates himself with both hands. Like who on earth would want to fight someone so sweet and innocent.
"I don't even know what their damage was. We were like What the fuck, are the Fomori just getting them real young these days or...?
Nah. They were just high on I don't know what. Bath bubbles or whatever
it is the kids are doing these days. Wasn't even anything cool like a
trapped memory spirit. If I were that memory spirit I'd be pissed. Good
job freeing it."
Tweeeeeeeeee, says the flute.
Keisha Ballard
She
can't help it; she visibly winces when Lola just goes ahead and tells
the story, what was coming of her good mood being rather completely
wiped away. Because she didn't particularly want to relive the whole
experience, and they nearly made it through with doing so. She does her
best to cover it up, to her credit; she smiles a little and shrugs it
off when Lola compliments her and she nods a little bit once Lola's
version of the tale done.
Still, while she's not in sulk mode the growing smile is gone. "It was what it was. I'm just glad it's resolved."
She
glances up at the sky then, takes a deep breath and gets to her feet.
The smile she forces isn't incredibly sincere but it's an attempt to.
"I
should actually take off...I've still gotta stop by Cold Crescent, see
how everything is there before I head home. Nice seeing you all again."
And with that she is turning to head off. Alone with her thoughts might actually be best here.
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
winces a little, not so much at Lola telling the story, but at Keisha's
response. "Yeah it was good to see you too. You-" You call me or something. You'll be okay. You should stay. "Take care."
Hector's
story seems to confuse him more than anything, and other than a brief
flicker of sympathy when he mentions Glen is dead, Thomas barely
responds to that at all.
Instead, once Keisha is out of earshot he
sighs and then props himself up on his elbows for a few seconds to look
at Lola. "That was an amazing shot by the way." That statement was
very clearly filed under Things Not to Say Around Keisha. He does smile a
little for Lola before he drops back down. It's not quite the full on
look-at-how-we-are-playing face from earlier, but it does come close.
Lola Hawkes
Her
expression shifts when Keisha reacts to her story telling. Lola didn't
have problems recognizing how the people around her felt. The spasm of
discomfort on Keisha's face was immediately recognized for what it was,
and the same holds true for the Crescent Moon's efforts to try and
cover up the displeasure with hearing the story told again. She stood
up and said that she would be on her way.
Lola was good at
recognizing emotions, but that didn't mean that she knew what to do with
such knowledge. She knew that she'd made Keisha uncomfortable, but she
wasn't aware of how to fix it. So, instead, she just let her eyes
follow the younger woman as she stood and bade everyone farewell.
"Yeah, see you around then," was all that Lola said to the retreating
Theurge, and she watched her go from where she sat with her head leaned
back against the rock.
Thomas and Hector were still side-by-side
in the grass. Hector had his flute near his mouth now, and was tweeting
out notes occasionally-- he'd used them to punctuate his story about
how he and Glen got into a fight with some teenagers that were high on
'bath bubbles', as he put it. Thomas watched Keisha go, waited until
she'd put some distance between herself and the group, then propped
himself up on an elbow to compliment her on her shot.
This
switched Lola's gears quickly, and she was grinning proudly at Thomas to
answer him. "Thanks. When you figure out that you don't get to heal
like you thought you were gonna be able to, you get pretty good at
putting fuckers down quickly. Makes sure they don't get a chance to
fuck your shit up first, y'know?"
Tweeeeeee.....
"Hector, you made yourself a damn fine little whistle, but you're on the fast track to losin' it."
Hector Ghosh
"Alright, girl. See ya."
Some
hint of apology in his tone not because of anyone's actions but because
of his inaction. Poor judgment maybe. It isn't her place or her duty to
make sure everyone in attendance can see the scene like they were there
but he doesn't chastise Lola either. Not his place and he doesn't have
the inclination to.
He wanted to know. Nothing to know now that
the story's out there. He does lift a hand to wave to Keisha as she goes
and then the matter of the flute and the fact that Hector keeps blowing
into it.
He's on the fast track to losing it. He points the non-business end at Lola and lifts his eyebrows.
"Woman,"
he says. That's all he has to say about that. Can't even come up with a
convincing threat. He just unsheathes his knife and goes back to
cleaning the edges with the knife's obscenely-sharp blade.
Thomas Delacroix
"That
seems to be a rather solid line of reasoning in other kin I've met with
skill sets like yours." Thomas says to Lola, without propping himself
up this time. "And mostly effective." There is something in his voice,
something haunted and definitely not something he really meant to be
there. He debates leaving too for a second. A minute. Two.
But,
the truth is, he is just out of places to go. And at least he has
company here. He may not adore Lola quite like he does Hector, but even
if she isn't the most traditionally comforting presence he would lay
solid odds she shoots anything he doesn't see coming in the face before
it touches him and when you've had some of the days he's had that's its
own kind of comforting.
He watches Hector working on the flute,
curious and quiet. He's never learned to make things. Certainly not
flutes. With knives. He'd barely be able to not sever a finger trying,
really. But it is all the more fascinating to watch because it is so
far outside of anything he does know how to do.
Tamsin
Tamsin
has spent the day, really the whole day, began early before the sun
rose in order to watch any sun-greeting rituals, near the heart of the
Sept, umbral-side, trying to coax out stories about the Sept Elder and
the Septs, trying to learn. This serious-eyed earnest Fianna with a
silver-tongue, can convince you to walk on your hands before you realize
that's not a great idea, just: obnoxiously present.
Not loud, oh no,
not loud necessarily, but: following, following, following, at least the
moon is waning and thin, a theurge's moon, rage can't be that high.
Maybe she had a good day, messing around. Maybe there were hours of
nobody, nothing but this spiritual reflection of the world- except it
isn't a reflection. The physical world is a reflection, the spiritual
world is the real world-
Anyway, the point is, Tamsin's tired and
hungry now, and Fog brings her voice plaintively to Hector, fills his
head in that true-voice way the spirits grant though doesn't Fog
sometimes like her jokes and leave a question?
Where'd you
get to, Uktena Boy [Samwise]? You still around? Think I'ma sleep here
tonight. I'm bone tired. But hungry [starving] (ate a rabbit), what
about getting McDonalds [gross (so good) mm Shamrock Shakes (go
Faux-Ireland)], bringing it back (I'm thirsty [want to get trashed]
(trashed is not recyclable but you recycle your stories when you're
trashed so it's a conscientious way to live)? I want McDonalds (no I
don't [do I?]) (mm, rabbit fur) (gross teeth need floss).
He knows she's tired because there are lots of layers to her totem-voice.
Lola Hawkes
Thomas
said that her logic lined up with that of many other gun-happy Kinfolk,
and she shrugged her shoulders and went on to explain: "Well, it's
pretty much our only option. S'why I shot that kid first, really. I
mean, the Silver Fang pretty much tells us the Wyrm's about, and then
this kid with blacked out eyes comes at me swinging.... Half of the
time when that happens they sprout fangs or spit acid at you, so I put
him down before he had the chance."
She didn't sound remorseful
for what she did, and that may be the part that was most disturbing--
what kept Keisha from getting close with the Kinfolk at all (though she
was certainly polite, and that was good). She was justifying it,
though, and that must mean that she saw the error that she made. After
all, she wouldn't be defending herself if she didn't think that she
needed to.
"Had no way of knowin' that kid would revert back after the necklace got taken out of the picture...."
Hector
had, when threatened to have the flute taken away, responded by
pointing it at her and starting a retort, but ending it on the same word
it began with. The tweeting flute noises did cease, though, because he
went back to honing the instrument further with the knife. When the
conversation had lulled the Kinswoman rubbed at her closed eyes with her
forefinger and thumb and sighed. "Man, the night wore me out for some
reason."
Hector Ghosh
Something neither of the
others can hear has Hector's deft hands stilling stutter-brief. Nothing
they can react to like all the birds gone silent or an inhuman noise in
the stream nearby but he does stop and he does hear and that something
makes him breathe out laughter enough to make them question his sanity
because it doesn't come at a point in their conversation that would make
sense for him to laugh.
Okay okay we'll go get McDonald's. Come over here and say Hi to Thomas and Lola. We're by the Big Rock and she can see the impression of it sent as imagery and she can feel the path her feet ought to take you might run into Keisha. Don't say anything about killing rabbits if you see her. Comeherecomeherecomehere.
Wood
shavings fallen between his akimbo knees and he considers the kinswoman
with stitch between his brows. It isn't like her to voice a complaint.
She has a high threshold for starters and she isn't one to make known a
weakness in mixed company and just as quick as any other impulse he ever
has fires his merriment leeches away.
"You sure you're alright?" he asks.
Thomas Delacroix
"It
was the right thing to do." He shudders and swallows. Not because of
the kid. That kid's brain could have stayed on the pavement and Thomas
would have hardly registered it as anything but unfortunate. "Their
eyes...around here, right now, I'd recommend killing anything that's
eyes go all wrong like that. And then maybe do it again. Sometimes
once isn't enough." Lola...Lola may not even know what he's talking
about. Hector heard him tell the story once, but he was practically
another person then.
"You know-" He rolls onto his side, and then up to half crouched. But he doesn't quite rise to leave.
Tamsin
The
Theurge Still Waters [There was a theurge called Still Waters and still
waters run deep and she-]? Uh, okay, why, does she have a pet rabbit?
Is she trying to make nice with the rabbit spirits and they told her she
can't kill any for a month or else they'll eat her Gnosis and leave her
without a leg to- the Big Rock? K. I'm comin. Wait Lola's there [:(]
[:)], ask her if she has a [tampon] NEVERMIND [wait haha do it] or-
[being rude (stop texting), coming! Does Thomas have a car? Can he take
us to get McDonalds?
And silence while Tamsin gets from
Point A to Point B, finds a likely place near the Big Rock in order to
sluice out've the umbra, one moment a rocky hill the next moment a girl
coming out've the brush, red ants crawling up her shoelaces, then
clomping that-a-way. She sees a pretty stone and picks it up. Then
another, and picks that up, too.
And then there's a lizard, and she chases it.
And
then she realizes she's chasing a lizard, which isn't very dignified,
and she stops, and then she can hear voices, so she covers her eyes and
squints up at the rock itself to see if she can see silhouettes or
what-all.
Lola Hawkes
Fingers moved away from her
eyes, and she shifted the focus of her gaze over to Hector to see the
concern sketched on his face. His brows were furrowed together, and he
wanted to know if she was sure she was okay. He was right, she wasn't
one to complain. She'd driven home with pain and stab wounds and little
organic needles still stuck in her ankles after a fight against Fomori
once. She barely flinched or bothered to take notice when she cut her
arms up on broken glass after busting through a window. It was odd that
something as simple as being sleepy would be groaned about outloud,
especially out here away from the house where others can hear.
But, as far as Lola was concerned, there was no problem in Thomas being aware of her drowsy spell.
"Yeah,
probably," she told Hector, and with a low huff she sat up straight and
leaned forward, away from the rock that she was propping herself up
against previously. "Maybe I'm just fighting off the flu or somethin'.
Ain't bruised or bleedin', so I'll be alright." She didn't stop to
question his odd giggle or that he had become stiff-alert at something
that she and Thomas didn't notice. She assumed it was something
spiritual, something she could never hope to pick up on, and let it pass
without comment.
Thomas was rolling up, getting ready to stand
but not quite committing to the motion. Lola held up her water bottle
in offer, raising her eyebrows in a silent question as to whether he
wanted a swig for the road or not.
Hector Ghosh
And
then he zones out again as Lola is answering him. He's struggling so
hard to pay attention but it's like having someone draped over his
shoulders and prattling along in his ear and he sits with a confused
expression on his face for several seconds while staring at Lola's lips
like he can filter her words through whatever it is he's hearing.
Thank
Gaia Hector wasn't born under a thinner moon. If the spirits talked to
him more often than his packmates did he'd be even more of a pain in the
ass.
"Sorry, Tamsin's incoming," he says, shaking off the
conversation. "Wants to know if someone has a tampon and will drive her
to McDonald's."
How do you like them apples, Tamsin.
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
makes a slight face at the mention of the destination, then sighs. "I
was about to leave anyway. I can take her, I guess." It is practically
the least engaged he has been with Hector yet, even watching him
messing with the flute Thomas had been more really present. He waves
off the offered water, but probably he'd wave off about anything at the
moment. Visions of being attacked by the headless mess of someone you
tried to save just don't make for wanting things.
But it is Lola, and so he gives her a very tiny, strained smile. "Thanks though."
Tamsin
Tamsin
likes those apples well enough. They're not the apples she'd pick out
at a supermarket, but let's be honest: Tamsin doesn't know the
difference between different kinds of apples, unless the kinds are
'green' and 'red' or 'rotten' and 'not rotten,' and sometimes the
difference between the latter two isn't as clear as -- the point is.
THEM APPLES, them apples. Them apples mean once she sees no silhouettes
and then a stir-of-movement that is Lola pushing from rock she's leaning
on, the first words she actually makes out are 'can take her, I guess,'
and that means the Fianna galliard is beaming when she is finally close
enough to raise-her-voice and say, "Hey Hector and Lola and um Thomas,"
the um, because she only knows him from moots, right? Moots and
reputation, "What's up?"
Lola Hawkes
Hector had
appeared distracted when Lola offered her guess to the cause of her
lethargy. She figured she was fighting off the flu, because while her
immune system was harty and she was very seldom sick with anything, even
the common cold that almost every American caught at least once per
cold season, she was still susceptible to illness. She hadn't had the
flu since she was about sixteen years old, but who knows?
Thomas
shook his head and forced a tiny, weak smile and thanked her for the
offer anyways. Lola eyeballed the Shadow Lord suspiciously, an
expression he's seen on her face when she's staring him down once before
(back at the Botanical Gardens, when he'd gotten wistful over some man
that was mentioned). After a handful of seconds she let it pass,
though, apparently deciding against calling him out on his melancholy
and asking him what was up.
He said he was on his way and he could
take Tamsin into town to a McDonald's if she wanted. Hector had
advised that she was on her way and needed a ride and a tampon both.
Lola raised her eyebrows, thoughtfully, then leaned forward and started
to paw around in her pack. When Tamsin arrived she got a glance from
the Kinfolk, then a smile. "Heya Tamsin," she advised.
"Hector
said you needed a plug, and I think I have one in the first aid kit."
She pulled free a small red pouch, straining against its zipper and made
of a tough canvas material.
Hector Ghosh
"You're a GOOD MAN, Thomas Delacroix!"
And
just like that Hector is alive and on his feet again and it's like the
totemphone hijacking of his attention and energy never happened. He
sheathes the knife and thrusts the flute at Thomas that he might have
his hands free as his packsister comes out of the clearing and joins
them at the rock.
It isn't as if he hasn't seen her recently and
won't see her again. Matter of fact Thomas is going to be seeing them a
lot sooner than he'd probably care to see them but he doesn't know that
yet and the other two Galliards aren't saying anything. But his pleasure
at seeing her is muted by the fact that Lola is trying to feed him a
line about having the flu.
He walks up to the kinswoman and puts the back of his hand against her forehead like that's going to prove anything.
"Tamsin!"
he calls. "Thomas is gonna drive you to McDonald's! I'll perform the
Rite of Cleansing on both of you when you get back."
Thomas Delacroix
Tamsin's
arrival and Hector's sudden reanimation leaves him a little bit at a
loss for quite what to do. And he has a flute in his hands. He gives
it a curious glance then rises and walks over to hand it to Lola. Which
is in no way at all moving toward the person currently making the
fewest demands on his capacity to deal with things right this very
second. He just wants to give the flute to someone who is not leaving.
"Hey," he says to Tamsin, but it's more reflex than interest right this moment.
His
eyes do flick to Hector at the comment about the cleansing, and he
manages a smile that is at least less of a lie than the one he'd just
given Lola.
Tamsin
"Yay!" The word 'yay,' not a
cheer. This is an important distinction to make, and Tamsin hovers like a
Tamsin-shaped Lola-shadow while the kinswoman unzips her first aid kit,
"If you have one, you're my hero with the lustrous hair deep and dark
and full of night, or something," and then Hector puts his hand on
Lola's forehead, and Tamsin cuts him a what-the-heck-are-you-doing
side-look, and then smirks, "I'll perform the Rite of Ate All The Fries.
ALL OF THEM. Uh, hey, do you have a dollar I can borrow?" - soulful
eyes, cue, just trained on her alpha, and then: that expression
dissolves so that she can better regard the languishing Shadow Lord
(yuck [knee-jerk reaction, trained into her]) galliard (oooh, he's so
pure-bred) thoughtfully, "You ready to go now? Thanks, man. I am really
hungry for junk food."
Lola Hawkes
The Garou came
to converge around the big rock that Hector had originally lounged on
but Lola was set up to sit against now. She wasn't sitting against it
anymore, though, just near it, with her legs crossed indian-style and
her torso leaned forward so she can access her pack. Thomas handed her
the flute, which Hector had handed him first. She blinked when the
little wooden instrument was pressed into her hand, but grinned a bit
and moved the flute to salute the Shadow Lord with it.
Tamsin
hovered behind her, letting her know that she would be her hero if she
did in fact have a tampon to spare. Hector, though expressing
excitement that Tamsin had come to join them, paused close enough to
reach down and press the back of his hand to Lola's forehead. She's
just a little bit warm, but not feverish at all. He only has enough
time to figure this out for himself before Lola's jabbing at his fingers
with the tampon she'd found in her first aid kit.
"Oh, get on," she told her Tribesman. "I'm fine, I told you."
And
then the tampon is passed up to Tamsin. "Here ya go. You can sing a
song about my hair after you've gotten your food." As for the dollar,
though Lola couldn't help. She didn't carry cash out on patrols.
Hector Ghosh
"Ew!!"
he says when the wrapped tampon hits his fingers. Doesn't even make a
grab for it the way he would have if she'd swatted at him with the
flute.
As for whether anyone has any money Hector heaves the most
put-out sigh ever sighed in the history of sighs and unties his medicine
bag from his hip. It is barely large enough to fit his hand inside but
Tamsin knows and Lola knows that it contains at least one small healing
gourd and at least one small Nightshade and that's about the extent of
their knowledge of what all he puts in there. Something clicks and
something jingles and he fumbles out two beat-to-hell dollar coins and
deposits them in Tamsin's palm.
"You're such a mooch," he says and
maybe she thinks she's going to get away with it but then Hector is
lurching forward and wrapping her up in a big gangly-armed
one-leg-wrapped-around-her-knees-so-she-can't-escape hug. "HAVE FUN
DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS I LOVE YOU BYE."
And then he's all but
leaping around the rock to evade from any retaliatory kitten-like
attacks. Points at Thomas from behind his kinswoman to offer: "Don't
drive like an asshole. Also don't let her talk when you get to the
drive-thru, one time she tried to order in Elvish and the kid almost
called the cops on us."
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
laughs, muted but at least not forced and shakes his head. "Okay. Come
on random starving new friend. Let's go get you food. Are you sure
you want McDonalds?"
His hand brushes lightly over Lola's
shoulder as he walks away, more a graze with his fingertips than
anything. "Night," he murmurs to her.
Hector gets a wave. "Okay. I will try not to kill her or unleash her on the unsuspecting. See you maybe later."
Tamsin
[Punch Hector for the road. You can't dodge me!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )
Hector Ghosh
[DODGING YOU]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 2, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )
Tamsin
Tamsin
grins shamelessly at Hector's put-upon sigh, palm out like a bratty
child in a 90s film about children-being-better-than-adults, though he
does get her fist lashing in his direction after he releases her from
that smooshing hug and tries-to-just-barely jumps away, hmf!, and then
the grin flickers and she nods a serious farewell to both of them, no
jubilation here, just, "You'll never know if someone else speaks the
language unless you try, I keep telling you if you're going to learn it
you've gotta use it, and um, seeya later Lola and Heck!"
"They are
always unsuspecting, Thomas..." and the two galliards will fade out
talking, Tamsin watching Thomas sidelong, onward to McDonalds glory! Or
not!
Hector Ghosh
If ever Tamsin
Cinder-Song has to hurl herself back over the cliff-edge dropped down
into oblivion then she's going to come back even grimmer and more
furious in her lament than she was before she went down. Like Gandalf
the Grey coming back from the fatal battle against the Balrog and
carrying on the rest of the quest as Gandalf the White.
Everybody
knows if they were in Middle-Earth Tamsin would want to be the ranger or
the wizard. Hector gets stuck with elf comparisons because of his hair
and how moronically pretty he is. Elves are immortal though. Impervious
to everything except slaying.
So the younger Galliards set off on
their mighty quest to procure low-priced junk food and Hector leans on
the rock beside Lola. Comes out of hiding only after their footsteps
have tramped through the grass enough of a ways that he does not have to
fear another attempt at punching. With the hemorrhaging of bodies he
will calm down but they are in a transitional period where he's still
jangling with the energy generated from other people finding humor in
his antics.
They sit in silence a moment, or Lola decides to
speak. Either way Hector's hand slowly floats up behind Lola's back and
comes around the side of her head and rests against her forehead again.
Lola Hawkes
Successfully
thwarted by the tampon, Hector's hand fled Lola's face, but went
straight to Tamsin instead. The Fianna got all wrapped up in her
Alpha's arms and leg and Hector yelled his farewell to her, an
exaggeration of a father bidding his teenage daughter to be safe while
out with her friends. There's a lash of a punch, and though it was well
aimed and would probably have smarted if it landed, Hector is deft and
hops back out of the way quick enough that Tamsin's knuckles skim
clothing but nothing more.
While this goes on, Thomas reaches down
and brushes his fingertips on the shoulder of Lola's shirt. This earns
her attention, and her dark eyes met his for a second, then her
expression shifts and a rather genuine smile was offered, small and
sincere. He and Tamsin were waved to, the both of them, as they were on
their way.
She watched the pair of Galliards retreat, Tamsin no
doubt chattering to Thomas and Thomas no doubt putting up with it
valiantly. Only once the pair had departed well enough away did Hector
still and settle beside her. He still hummed with energy, she could
tell, but he wasn't loud and leaping about any longer. She was still
distractedly holding onto the flute that Thomas had placed in her hand,
thumbing at the carved curves of the instrument.
When his arm went
around her she leaned like she may settle into it and against his
shoulder. Then his hand touched her forehead again (same result-- a
little warmer than ordinary but not concerningly so). She turned her
head and rolled her eyes to look at him, but didn't chase his hand away
this time. Instead, she stared at him blandly.
"Hector. I told'ja I'm okay. And even if it is a flu, so what? I'm miserable for two days then back on my feet."
Hector Ghosh
At
least he thinks he's funny. He laughs almost as a reflex the way people
with no combat skill will hold up their arms to protect their vital
organs and smooths back the hair from her brow. Does not find it clammy
or burning. With his arm back behind her now Hector leans his hip
against the rock to anchor himself and draws her in against his side
like she thought he was going to do.
Not much point arguing with her but he does it anyway. Maybe it's a litmus test. If she's actually sick she'll give up quicker.
"Yeah
but Kinfolk don't get sick," he says. "I wasn't joking, you guys suck
at telling stories. Left out so many details. None of those kids bit
you? Kids carry so many germs. All that gum they chew. And I hear
cooties are making a comeback because of the anti-vaccine
anti-breastfeeding anti-common sense people."
Lola Hawkes
He
laughed when she fixed that stare on him, and apparently content that
she wasn't feverish or breaking a sweat for no clear reason his hand
fell away. He adjusted how he sat and, with that arm wrapped around
behind her, he tugged the Kinswoman so she would lean more against his
side. Without spectators about (not for the sake of shame, it should be
clarified, but for a simple sense of privacy [this is mine, ours, not
yours]) she was more comfortable with opening up to affection, and
clearly the same marked true for him.
So she leaned against his
flank and let her head settle near his, brow touched to his jaw. He
insisted that Kinfolk don't get sick and pried for more details out of
the fight. Lola's answer was to shake her head, but lightly.
"First
of all, we do get sick, just not often or easily. But, nah, they
weren't biters or clawers. Just kids with knives and fists. I didn't
get touched-- one kid tried to take a swing at me but missed, like I
said. I shot him in the head. It was pretty close range, and I got his
blood on me, but not a whole lot of it. Exit wound is the one that
sprays, not the other way around really."
Hector Ghosh
Chalk
this up to being one of the downsides to letting a Galliard love you:
he's trying to fix a present problem by shuffling back through
everything he knows and he's not coming up with anything. Sometimes
people just get sick.
But she's not snuffling or sneezing or
coughing. He isn't a spirit-talker. His father was a heart surgeon and a
damned good one but none of those interests had filtered down to
Hector. What Hector wanted to do was act. If he had survived past his
junior year of high school he might have started writing and directing.
Found his true worldly passion in college, maybe. His relationship with
his father would have become more strained and good lord the fights they
avoided because he didn't end up going off to medical school like his
older sisters.
His mother taught Asian history and literature but
among her all-time favorite works were The Iliad and The Odyssey and
she'd named all of their kids after characters from those two stories
and after Hector read it he'd teased his mom about naming him after some
dude whose corpse got dragged around behind a chariot and she'd asked
him if he'd been paying attention to everything that happened before
that. She named him after a good man, an honorable man.
Some things don't gain significance until long after they've happened.
Anyway: he can't sort out what could be wrong with Lola because he's caught up on not often or easily.
And she isn't even that sick. She's just tired. The seasons are
changing. He steals the covers at night. Concern replaces manic energy
but he keeps his mouth shut. She can still feel it in the way he rubs
her arm and doesn't talk with her brow against his jaw.
Lola Hawkes
Hector's
quiet spell is precisely as telling as his words would be. Sure,
they've had companionable silences before, plenty of them. Even before
they fell into one another a couple weeks ago they would have the
occasional moments where either they were up later than everyone, or up
earlier, or everyone else wanted to go do something and Hector and Lola
were happy just being stoned and sitting around the fire still. They've
been quiet together then and it was just fine.
They're quiet
together now, too. When they're out on the porch with lulls in their
conversation, or at night when they lay beside one another and wait for
sleep to come take them away. On those nights sometimes they're wearing
pajamas and just plumb tired. Other nights their clothes are tossed
onto the big woven rug that Lola's bed stood upon and the covers are
peeled back so that the sweat will dry from their bodies, and sleep
steals them away faster with the help of exertion and release.
This,
though, is different. That's made more apparent by where their
conversation had ceased and how he was rubbing her arm, gentle but
diligent.
She breaks the quiet.
"If you're going to be
letting every little thing worry you so badly, then you'll stress
yourself to the grave before War can get you there. You know I'm gonna
come home with broken bones and clawmarks, and that's gonna happen way more often than a common cold."
Hector Ghosh
"Pfft."
He
has to push that dismissive response up out of his throat. Stood like
this not moving or yelling or harassing someone is enough to lull him
but this isn't just a state of contented silence they're in.
The
chastising is enough to have him draw a deep breath and blow it back out
again. The sun still shines through a sky not occluded by clouds and
the weather has taken a turn but all of the deciduous trees are
beginning to lose their pigmentation and drop their leaves to the
ground. By the end of next month everything will smell of decay and
preparation for slumber.
And the Gauntlet between their worlds
will thin. And dead will walk where before they did not. This time of
year is ripe for the earth rejecting that which has been entrusted in
it. People remember in their blood and their bones what it is to have to
store up for winter. Not so much in the modern age but for far longer
than electricity there has been the harvest and the deaths come from a
long winter. Pestilence still plagues places where people are not so
lucky.
Hector still lives and thinks like they are in the wilds of
Canada or the southern ends of Mexico or running around Eastern Europe
and not like they're in Colorado. Hard to come home and hard not to
worry but he turns his face towards hers and breathes in her hair the
way humans press their lips to their beloved's brows.
"Yeah, and I can't promise I'll be elated to see you come home--" Like ripping off a Band-Aid. First time he's called it home
since he came back from Winnipeg. "--messed up, either. It's like I
care about you or something." He returns his head to the neutral
position that she might rest against his jaw again. "Besides... I'm not
worrying. I'm just thinking."
Lola Hawkes
Born to a
Kinfolk and a Garou, sister to a Garou, and friend exclusively to one
of those two categories and nobody else, Lola was more familiar with the
ways of Wolves than she was necessarily to the ways of humans. At
least when it came to person-to-person interactions. Her mother, often
adrift in the world of Spirits, would cradle her as a very small girl
and breathe at the top of her head and murmur tales and limericks and
spiritual wonders to her often. She didn't grow up with fairy tales,
she grew up with stories about the Umbral Realms instead.
She
didn't play sports with other kids when she was traveling between
infancy and puberty. Instead she wrestled with them, chased and hid and
climbed and hunted and fought. There weren't many Lupus at the Sept,
but there was one that was around for a year and a half when she was a
young teenager, and wrestling with a wolf was just as fun as wrestling
with a human body, she found. You had to watch for the teeth, though,
they pinched skin and left harsh blood blisters if you got careless.
So,
when Hector's gesture of affection is to turn his head and breathe in
the smell of her hair (shampoo and sun and, under that, a smell
distinctly Lola) instead of kissing her forehead or squeezing her with
the arm wrapped about her, she doesn't find it odd at all. She lets her
eyes close, feeling the little mole-hill swell of positive emotion that
came along with, and left them closed even after it passed.
"Yeah,
you won't like it. But, y'know, it's gonna happen." He says he wasn't
worried, though, and that he was just thinking. Lola's voice was quiet
from the comfort that encouraged her drowsiness and heavy-limbed
lethargy to tighten its grasp, but she wasn't quite nodding off just
yet. "Care to share the thoughts? I'm curious now."
Hector Ghosh
They
both came here to serve the Sept but Hector has been here since late
last night and Lola feels more tired than she is used to feeling. A good
portion of his nervous energy is coming from the fact that he needs to
eat and sleep instead of sitting around in the grass whittling flutes
and waiting for news of what happened last night. If he did eat last
night it was something he killed on the Bawn's edge.
Homid Garou
do not become strict carnivores upon their First Change. He can show her
pictures of how he looked when he was a baby and didn't know jack shit
about what lay ahead of him. But she knows as well as anyone else that
he's lost most of the fat that carried with him through his fostering
and his Rite of Passage, that he hasn't known a stable safe place to
rest in years. Their pack was a bunch of transient animals. Hector now
looks like a transient animal. He's clean at least but he hasn't grown
accustomed to being still yet.
And she wants to hear his thoughts
but they're both warmed by the sun and the physical contact staved off
by the others' presence and he keeps rubbing her arm even though she
told him not to worry.
"Man... we'll be out here all day if you
open up that can of worms. Let's go home first. I wanna make this soup
Ma used to make that would stink up the entire house for like a week
afterwards. It would cure anything. I swear it kept me from dying of
appendicitis when I was a kid." He offers her his arm to climb down off
the rock and, beyond that, as an escort away from it. "C'mon. Now that I
mentioned it I'm drooling a little."
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