Lola Hawkes
Elsewhere in the country, tornados are
touching down and ripping houses from their foundations, and terrible
thunderstorms that turn the sky black are accompanied by winds that snap
branches from trees and send them crashing down on rooftops and
powerlines. Here in Denver, though? The weather is downright balmy.
There isn't a single cloud in the sky, and the sun is bright and warm.
Many people are out in the park today, having picnics and riding
bicycles and playing games of frisbee and what-have-you. Merriment is
abound here at the City Park, because it could very well be the last day
that the citizens of Denver get to be out without a hat and scarf for
many weeks to come.
There is one part of the park where this
merriment doesn't quite bleed over, though, and that would be at the
edge of one of many flat sprawling fields of well-groomed grass. Here
Lola Hawkes was laying on the ground with her back in the grass, looking
up at the chipper blue sky and listening to the squall of ducks and
geese in the pond not too far away.
She looks like she might be
sleeping here because she has nowhere else to go. She's dressed in a
pair of jeans that are getting worn out at the knees and thighs, frayed
at the cuffs. The sneakers on her feet have seen better days, but are
still intact at least. She has a plain gray hooded sweatshirt wadded up
to make a pillow under her head, and there's a loose black T-shirt that
she's wearing under that-- cut almost provocatively low at the neckline, with a hem long enough to fall past her hips and rear end while standing.
For
now, though, she laid and soaked up the sun and stared at the sky with
an expression that was somewhere between neutral and gravely worried,
given the fact that her eyebrows had somehow found their resting spot
knitted together into a pseudo-frown.
Somewhere nearby a child
pointed and asked their mother if she was okay. The mother, a woman
with expensively dyed hair in a sharp A-line haircut, gathered her
child's hand up and advised him not to bother those less fortunate.
Lola managed to overhear some comment that the mother made to the friend
she was walking with about how the woman on the grass was 'probably
sleeping it off'.
In other circumstances, Lola may have stood up,
chased the woman down, and dared her to say that again to her face.
Today, though, she just scowled a little harder but stayed still and
quiet in the grass.
Hector Ghosh
Hector's sitting
not too far away from her underneath a tree. His skinny legs are crossed
at the ankle and he's hunched over a paperback novel that he's reading.
An elbow on a knee and his chin propped against the heel of that hand.
His
eyes lift from the page when he hears the little girl's high voice
pointing out the downed woman in the grass. As the mother drags her
child away from the woman his eyes follow her.
At least he has the decency to wait until she's out of earshot before he starts to laugh.
"Oh, man," he says before he turns back to his novel. "That'll give 'em something to talk about at yoga tonight."
Javed Anubis-Sight
To
some, this weather would be considered balmy and warm. Certainly it is
warm for the season, particularly in a mountainous region like Denver.
And that brings out the people who want to enjoy a pleasant day for
picnics and exercise and taking their dogs for a walk. However to Javed
Anubis-Sight, for whom the average November day is in the mid-80s, the
high 50s is downright frigid. He may just never get used to the idea of
Denver weather for as long as he lives here.
That being said,
you'll see and hear no complaints to him. Complaining really isn't
Javed's thing, and no matter what the weather he always appreciates the
ability to get his feet under him and do some wandering. Sure, these
days his wandering is kept within the very general environs of the
Denver area but it still counts as wandering. His people has wandered
since they were cut out of their ancestral homeland, their connection to
their ancestors denied. It's very possible that they will wander until
the end. And Javed is no different in that.
Generally, he does
try to keep at least somewhat away from people when he wanders. Not
that he avoids populated areas, but he doesn't go out of his way to
march directly through the crowds. In America, the last thing you want
to be is a dark-skinned man of Middle Eastern descent with one good eye
and a general ambiance of "psychotically angry." And the fact that he
gives off that ambiance through his calm demeanor just makes it worse.
So he tends to keep to the sidelines when he moves through parts.
And
this is how he ends up coming across the edge of the field where Lola
and Hector sit. He has his hands in the pockets of that military jacket
he picked up not so long ago, his eyes up and around, keeping alert.
This is how he registers the two sitting there; though he doesn't
recognize them, Lola's breeding draws his attention. He throws a quick
glance around before he approaches.
Lola Hawkes
Their
purpose for coming into the city was some errand or another for
Anthony. They'd met up with him at one of his tattoo parlors that was
set up in prime real-estate in Downtown Denver, and after Hector had
effectively terrified one of the clients who was getting his throat
tattooed and after Lola had her brief conversation with Anthony in the
back room, the errand was finished and they were on their way.
Hell,
they were already in the city, why not spend some time in the park
keeping an eye on things? It'd been a while since they'd run any kind
of patrol on these streets, so they decided to spend some time resting
in the park, watching the things that happened around them and keeping
an eye out for hiccups in the peace while simultaneously soaking up the
sun. Hector had his book, and Lola said she had plans for a cat-nap but
instead was left with her thoughts.
The quiet had been mutual and
comfortable, interrupted only just now by the two women and child and
Hector's chuckle in answer. Lola turned her head to glance over at the
long-haired Uktena man, then jerked one shoulder so it rubbed in the
grass-- this this closest she was getting to a shrug for the moment.
"If that's what they find to talk about, then their lives are pittyingly
boring."
When she'd turned her head to look at Hector, another
familiar figure caught her attention. Well, her attention was caught
first because of the fact that the tall masculine figure with the army
jacket was approaching them directly. Lola had hooked her elbows to the
ground beneath her and pushed herself up into a half-lounging lean
instead. Her chin jerked in Javed's direction, calling Hector's
attention to his approach, and only after another moment and a squint
did she recognize the man.
She liked Javed enough that the
semi-stormy mood that had been peeking in and out of her day was cleared
when she realized who he was. It had been a while since she had words
with the Metis Warrior. So, one hand lifted and waved over her head,
hailing the Silent Strider and showing friendly recognition. She didn't
say anything, though. That she tended to leave to Hector when he was
about.
Hector Ghosh
"Are you kidding? If I saw you
lying passed-out on the grass in the park I'd tell everyone I knew. You
were drooling a little, it was kind of funny."
When Lola sits up
from her supine position in the grass Hector lifts his eyes again not
because he picks up on the Fostern's presence but because he isn't
entirely convinced the kinswoman isn't rising to slap him upside the
head. He's about to laugh again when she stays reclined on the ground
and indicates a spot in the distance with her chin.
They've had a
relatively wide circle of solitude today owing to the energy jangling in
Hector's nerves. It isn't his moon that will be calling to them tonight
but it's just as easy for him to snap and succumb to frenzy on a full
moon as it is on a gibbous. Most people don't find being around him
particularly pleasant any time of month.
It's that whole "psychotically angry" thing Javed understands so well.
It
isn't Lola's voice but Hector's that comes across the field. By now
he's starting to pick up on the fact that Javed doesn't recognize faces
but he's slower to pick up on the fact that voices aren't much more help
to him. Hector rests the book facedown on the grass and cups his hands
around his mouth to project his voice further.
"HI JAVED!"
Javed Anubis-Sight
Javed
isn't as good at recognizing voices until there has been a hell of a
lot of association between it and the identity, this is true. Even then
it sometimes takes a lot of focus for the Strider to sort through the
various hints and clues that he has to keep in mind as associations to
people's identities. But behavior is always an easier thing to put
together. And the clues here coalesce, combine into a singular
identifier: Lola's breeding, Hector's full-on shout, their presence in
each other's company. These combine with several little clues to
broadcast who the couple are, and while there's always a chance he could
be wrong Javed would consider this an educated guess.
The Iranian
takes his hands out of his pocket as he comes up to the couple, folding
them together as he offers kin and Garou a nod of greeting. "Good
afternoon, Echoes of the Lost. Miss Hawkes. It is most pleasant to
come across you both in my daily travel, as always." Ever polite, that
Strider. "How does this day find you?"
Erich Storm's Teeth
It's
like it's spring and the daffodils are popping up! Except it's not
spring, it's almost winter. And instead of daffodils, it's Erichs
popping up out of the grass. Or well: one Erich, lurching up kinda
rumpled, a book tumbling off his face where he'd set it down to shield
his eyes from the sun while he took just a tiny nap.
Which went on for a couple hours. But anyway.
"I
said I'll return it tomorrow, it's not due until Tuesday!" Pause.
Blink. Wait. Dreaming. Right. Erich rubs his face in both hands,
then looks around. Oh look! People he recognizes. He grabs his book,
dusts some blades of grass off. Gets up and ambles over.
"Javeeeeed." Erich sticks out a fist for fist-bumping. "Hectoooooor. Person I don't knoooooow."
Lola Hawkes
Hector's
cupped hands assured that his shout would travel, although one can rest
assured that Hector would have been able to shout across the park
without needing the help of his hands to megaphone the sound further.
Between the eager shouting and the water-snake-god heritage in Lola's
face and bones, Javed's able to figure out who it is that he's walking
toward, that had summoned his attention unintentionally at first, but
eagerly soon enough.
When the Silent Strider was near enough to
greet them, Lola relaxed back on to both elbows again, but did not
resume her full on sprawling pose in the grass. Her hair was down in a
heavy mass of black that fell past her shoulders, making its way toward
the center of her back in length. There was a dead leaf and a few grass
clippings caught in her hair from where she was laying on it, but she
didn't notice, and probably wouldn't much care even if she did.
His
greeting is formal and polite, as are most of his mannerisms. Lola
nods her head to him, dips it really more than anything else, to mirror
the respect that he showed the both of them to begin with.
"Warm
and pleasant enough. Even here, I suppose." Her nose wrinkled up a
little as she glanced back toward the walking path nearest to where she
and Hector had set themselves up, and watched a forty-something year old
man in a windbreaker jogging suit plod his way along. He was prompted
to move faster than a leisurely stroll for the first time in forty
minutes when he got too near to the growing cluster of high-Raged Garou
in the park. Lola's undeserved disdain for this average human man was
cut short, switched when another voice joined the fray.
Her eyes
were dark always, thanks to her heritage and ethnicity, but they were
cool and hardened when they fell upon Erich. She looked him over, from
shoulder to knee and back up to face, but said nothing to greet him in
return. Rather, she pressed her lips together and situated herself so
that she could sit up straight and not lounge leisurely any longer. It
seemed that Erich's presence meant she was no longer comfortable enough
for that kind of relaxed pose.
Hector Ghosh
The
Strider joins the Uktena and bows and gives them as formal a greeting as
one would expect in an urban park in the middle of a warm November
afternoon. As he approaches the Galliard picks up his novel and dog-ears
his page and tucks the book into the back pocket of his jeans. He's
wearing the pin-striped blazer instead of the army jacket today. That's
enough of an admission of the weather not being that shitty as they're
going to get out of him.
And then a Shadow Lord emerges from
dreams and the long grass like a mythological creature rising up out of
Loch Ness. Hector pushes wild shocks of hair back behind his ears and
returns the greeting:
"Eriiiiiiiich." He waits to see how Javed is
going to fare with the bump before holding out his own ring-covered
fist. In the meantime his mouth runs. "Erich, meet Lola Hawkes. She's my
handler. Lola, this is Erich Storm's-Teeth."
Javed Anubis-Sight
Erich's
sudden appearance of course draws the metis' attention; anything with a
Rage higher than his own had better Gaia-damned well catch Javed's one
eye, or he can hand in his Ahroun badge right now. He snaps his
attention over, eyes narrowing slightly by default when he can't
recognize the man off a few quick hints. Erich and Javed have had some
interaction but not as many as he has had with Lola and Hector, and thus
it is a little harder for him to figure it out.
The good news is
that there's only one person who's ever fist-bumped with him, and that
would be Erich. Combine that with the Fenrir blood and once again, the
Iranian has an identity confirmed. The first time they did this, he was
uncomfortable with the gesture as he didn't understand it. This
time...well, he still doesn't understand a single iota of it, other than
It's like a handshake, only with fists. But that is enough that he doesn't seem exactly uncomfortable, instead only giving the amount of pause needed to associate fist bumb with Shadow Lord. And then he holds out his hand to accept the greeting.
"Good
afternoon, Storm's Teeth. I hope we did not interrupt your rest." He
gestures to indicate where Erich came from, as if to indicate the nap
from which he awoke.
Erich Storm's Teeth
"It was
time for me to get up anyway," Erich says affably. The fistbumps are
completed: one is awkward and a little unnatural, the other actually
sort of normal. He raises that bump-happy hand to Lola: "Hey, Lola."
And
then this sort of curious tilt-headed look at Hector, and the worst
attempt at a subtle sort of confirmation-of-relationships ever: "Handler
as in .... like .... girlfriend?"
Lola Hawkes
The
introduction between Lola and Erich is brief and simple. Hector refers
to her as his handler, and in most conditions that would have earned
him a grin or chuckle or smirk or something good-humored along those
lines. In this moment, though, the humor seems lost on her. Erich
gives her a 'hey', and Lola just hops her chin up in return.
The
question that followed, clarifying what Hector meant by 'handler', had
Lola making a scoffing sound and deciding that sitting was no longer
acceptable. She left her hoodie in the grass for the time being and
pushed herself up onto her feet. Thoughtlessly, she seizes the
waistband of her jeans through the loose fabric of her shirt and tugs,
adjusting the way her pants sat about her waist and hips-- pushing down
rather than pulling up, of all things.
"Don't worry about it,"
Lola says to Erich, answering the clarifying question in Hector's
stead. She looked a little stiff and on edge, but who can blame her?
She was swimming in a pool of Rage standing here between the three
Wolves that had come together in the park this afternoon, brought by
chance or Fate or some other form of magnetism.
"I know
Storm's-Teeth," Lola provided for Hector, addressing the introduction
that he'd given. She looked at the Shadow Lord for a moment, like she
was teetering on the edge of what to say next. Her expression sets at a
light frown and after a second she figures out what she wants to follow
it up with. "We've seen each other at the War Moots."
Remembering
the moon above and feeling the strong, seizing swell of Erich's Rage
was what kept her from immediately spitting out some venomous comment
about the scene he made at the punishment ceremony. That didn't mean
that the electricity and desire to confront didn't keep thrumming under
her skin, though.
Hector Ghosh
The
Galliard looks as if he's about to laugh at the question and supply his
own answer but then Lola is getting to her feet and telling Erich not
to worry about it. That almost-laugh turns into an uncomfortable smile
and a silent bobbing of his head.
Yup. That's my girlfriend.
The
conversation carries on and Hector rubs the sort-of beard he's got
growing. Poor bastard can't grow a full beard even though he hasn't
shaved his face in months. Points for trying.
"Oh, right, the warmoots."
His
eyes go distracted as he listens to something the rest of them can't
hear. One of his packmates is probably yammering at him right now. Or
incoming. Or incoming because he's been yammering at them.
Erich Storm's Teeth
"Oh
yeah." Erich gets this awkward look on his face that tells everyone he
doesn't remember Lola in the slightest. "I remember you now. Cool."
His
hands go into his pockets. Jeans, t-shirt. Summer gear. Or just
year-round gear, maybe, if you were born in the upper midwest right
smack in the middle of the snow belt, and also your ancestors were
viking barbarian wolves. The storms of Thunder are a little different.
Thunderstorms, hurricanes, typhoons. Hot and oppressive and
destructive. Likely the comparison doesn't occur to Erich at the
moment, though, because he's kinda nodding-up at Hector and saying,
"Happy for ya, man."
Re: having a girlfriend, one imagines. Even if said girlfriend is like let's not discuss it.
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
comes toward them with the lack of ambling that suggests that he's
probably been in some kind of contact with Hector - and at least most of
those gathered have seen him calm enough that they could easily imagine
yammering.
Javed gets a nod in greeting as Thomas approaches, but
then a warm smile. "Javed." And then, because maybe that wasn't
enough of his voice yet for Javed to recognize him. "I haven't seen you
by the house for awhile." It's the best clue he can think of so that
Javed can guess without any overt prompting. They really need to get a
code phrase or something.
Then Hector gets a nod and a similarly
warm smile. "Hey." It's a somewhat cautious hey, like he is trying
really hard not to say something ridiculous and formal like good evening
instead because...reasons.
Erich gets a nod and no real verbal greeting as Thomas moves closer to Hector and Lola.
Lola
doesn't get as much in the way of the nodding, but Lola is the only one
he reaches out to touch, that same featherlight graze of fingertips
over her shoulder. She gets a smile too. Apparently it's smiles for
everyone day.
Javed Anubis-Sight
There are many
things that Javed is good at. He can rip off heads with the best of
them, for example (it is his favorite combat tactic). But the concept
of relationship dynamics is one that completely eludes him. Yes, its
completely understandable--what use will he have for them, after
all--but it still makes for times where he's in the dark or at least not
elucidated on why someone would have to invent so many different terms
for mate, and why someone might be coy about their status in such
respects. And thus, when those exact things unfold he simply stands
there, attention shifting from one person to the other and not quite
getting the full context.
Javed, of course, has his own thoughts
about what went down during the judgment of the Elders, but that is not
his place to offer an opinion. The matter is past them as far as he is
concerned; he is more interested in the present, after all. He nods a
little bit to Erich when he says it was time to get up anyway, accepting
it without question.
And then Thomas is there. He looks over at
the other Shadow Lord and offers another nod; the mention of the house
is indeed a sufficient clue. "Thunder's Cry Echoes From the Sea. I
have not been, this is true. Most of my time is spent in patrols,
working with my new student or at the Cold Crescent building as of
late."
Lola Hawkes
Lola doesn't look insulted that
Erich clearly doesn't recognize who she is. There's no hurt or anger
or anything like that. She does look about a coin toss away from
rolling her eyes at him, though. Again, the Full Moon that was waiting
its turn to dominate the sky kept her actions in check. With how clear
and brilliantly blue the sky was today, it was a sure thing that the
light of the moon would be vibrant enough tonight to cast shadows and
show clear paths through the landscape.
Hector nods to confirm
Erich's question anyways, and though Lola's moderate frown doesn't budge
any she doesn't shoot any sharp glares at her Tribemate or try to
negate the fact when Erich expresses happiness for the man that he
fought beside in taking down Beloved Horror. Rather, Lola contents
herself to bite her tongue and fold her arms under her bust and cast her
gaze about.
It's in this casting about that she notices Thomas's
approach. She doesn't smile or wave, that gloom that's been following
after her all day has settled a cloud over her head once more, but she
does at least nod to him when they initially make eye contact. When he
gets nearer and reaches out to touch fingertips to her shoulder, she
manages to break through that surly attitude if only for a moment, if
only for the newest member of Celduin. For him, she unfolds her arms
just long enough to reach out and pat a hand against the side of
Thomas's neck, a clear gesture of camaraderie and oddly martial
affection, before her arms stitch together across her chest once more.
Javed
says something about a new student and the Cold Crescent building, and
Lola's attention snaps to him like a rubber band sailing across a high
school classroom.
"You're bringing a student into the Spire Sept?"
Hector Ghosh
Erich
is happy for him. Hector keeps that uncomfortable expression on his
face but it's an act. He's trying to get some sort of a laugh out of
Lola, stood across from him and awash in all this Rage as she is.
"Thanks," he says. "I can't believe she went for it, either."
Then
Thomas tries to go around the circle and appropriately greet everyone.
He ought to know what's coming by now. Neither the content nor the
volume of Hector's speech has been appropriate since the day they first
met and even then that was only because he was trying to decide if
Thomas was a friendly or one of Grandfather Serpent's.
Now he
tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt as he waits for
Thomas to work his way around the circle. Once he gets to Lola and Javed
returns the greeting it's all over though.
"There's my boy!" He
reaches out to ruffle Thomas's hair and then he puts him into a headlock
for good measure. Not a side-hug but a proper headlock. "Aw, son,
you're getting so tall. I'm not going to be able to do this in a couple
years, you'll be big enough to kick my ass."
Javed Anubis-Sight
As
Hector makes his greeting to Thomas, Javed turns his attention to
Lola. The Ahroun regards the kinfolk calmly for a moment before shaking
his head. "You misheard me, Miss Hawkes. I am working with the
student, a lost cub of my Tribe and auspice. And separately, I am
spending time as the Cold Crescent. Although I do intend to bring her
there at some point, now would most certainly not be an appropriate
time. It would be more appropriate when she has gained more footing
within the Nation, preferably after her Rite of Passage, or when we get
the Sept fully re-opened."
And of course, there's nothing in there
suggesting that he feels the need to defend the decision. The
explanation is because he respects the kinswoman and feels that she
merits one.
Lola Hawkes
She'd misheard him, and
Javed clarifies what he'd said. He says that he isn't bringing a Cub to
the Broadway building, and Lola's posture relaxes just a touch with
that reassurance. He might not be able to recognize faces, but he can
probably understand her body language well enough to pick up on the fact
that that matter was settled, as far as the Kinswoman was concerned.
She
probably would have stayed more relaxed, reached down to grab her
hoodie and dig around in its pockets for a pack of gum that she bummed
off her cousin (it helps my stomach, be a friend), but for Javed's last
couple of words.
Her eyes sharpen, pupils constricting a little,
and her expression sets itself like stone. Suddenly her words were
sharp and difficult to navigate, much like the earth that took Curved
Sky's life away last month. All at once she was a yawning bear trap
waiting to be sprung.
"Why the fuck would you reopen that hellhole? After everything that just happened?"
Thomas Delacroix
"You're
welcome an-" Thomas starts to Javed, and then his hair is being
ruffled and he's in a headlock. Which, beyond the initial half second
where he tenses a little, doesn't seem to bother him at all. And
really, he should have expected that the second he got close
enough for Hector to reach him. He's grinning by the time Hector is
done talking, and tries, rather ineffectually, to shake his head. Less
like he's trying to get away. More like in response to what he's
saying. "I would think it might still be slightly impolite,
regardless," is all he says, but the tone is less about formality and
more about amusement.
He does make an effort to get away then, but
it's not really serious. Hector will let go when he lets go. Thomas
isn't so much attempting to escape as seeing if he's about to get
released. He doesn't continue with whatever he was about to say to
Javed whether or not he is released, less because of Hector's
interruption and more because he's interested in the answer to Lola's
question.
And everyone's response. Especially everyone's response.
Melantha Argyris
The
weather lately has been spectacular. It nearly feels like the last few
days of September, not the middle of November. But that's this part of
the country, this part of the state: seventy degrees and sunny on Black
Friday, snow flurries on Father's Day. It's happened. And those who
have been here a few years, or all their lives -- including the assholes
with the 'Native' bumper stickers -- know it, and just shake their
heads over it.
Melantha has been here only a matter of months, and
she is still bewildered by the fact that the seasons here don't give a
fig about your expectations. She overdressed this morning, because it's
colder in Evergreen than in Denver, and the only reason she knows to
dress in layers is because of much travel and living in the middle of
nowhere the rest of the time. So now in the seat of the truck there's
her big long warm coat -- the new one, the one that isn't bloodstained
-- and a hoodie and Melantha herself is just wearing a flannel shirt
with the sleeves rolled up over a t-shirt. The flannel is blue and
green and black. The t-shirt is grey. Her jeans mostly fit, but that's
what belts are for.
She's walking towards them because she can
sense where Erich is. She can always find Erich, and he can always find
her. Even if he couldn't track her by that overwhelming breeding.
They are bound by spirit, after all. They're pack. Even if she can't
always fight alongside him. This isn't a fight... she's pretty sure.
After all, Javed seems okay, and she recognizes the others for the most
part.
everything that just happened? Lola is saying, and
angrily, in voice and in expression. Melantha looks at her, because
she's speaking, then at Erich, then at Javed. "Hi again. If you can't
tell who I am it's Melantha, Erich's packmate."
And that is as far as she goes, in terms of interrupting. After all: people are talking.
Erich Storm's Teeth
Well, that gets Erich serious in a hurry. Mention of Cold Crescent. Memories of everything, everything happening in the last few weeks. His affability evaporates. His face slams into a scowl.
"The hellhole never closed.
Wolves sitting in the Cold Crescent building twenty-four seven might
be the only thing keeping a lid on the whole pot. Abandoning post is
like, the worst idea ever. But then this is an idea coming from
the same Elders that think torturing someone to death with FUCKING
SILVER IS DECENT JUSTICE."
Oh. He's yelling. Erich bites his lip, reining it in.
"Sorry.
Still mad." And: Melantha! His eyebrows come up a bit out of their
scowl. He sort of sways sideways to nudge her. "Heya."
Lola Hawkes
[Willpower!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 8, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Hector Ghosh
"Slightly impolite?"
Because
roughhousing with a cohort every time you see him is the height of
propriety. He feels the wriggling as Thomas tries to escape and claps
him on the gut with his free hand before releasing him. Reaches up with
the hand that just released him to pick a piece of fuzz off the collar
of Thomas's shirt.
His eyes move sidelong when the other kinswoman
arrives and he nods his chin up at her. He hasn't ever shaken her hand
and though she didn't speak the entire time they were both at the alpha
meeting Phoebe called before the subterranean fight. At least he
remembers his name. It's kind of his job to remember people's names.
"Hey, Melantha."
This
is just a sidebar. He goes back to paying attention to the Ahrouns and
Lola after he's greeted her. A tension stretches his spine taut like
he's expecting this to come to blows. It doesn't resolve when Erich
raises his voice. If anything an expression of oh, shit comes across his face.
Erich isn't the one whose reaction he's worried about.
Melantha Argyris
At
the one warmoot she went to, it's true: Melantha did not say a word.
She stood off to one side, she looked distinctly uncomfortable, and she
tensed whenever eyes glanced her way. She seems less retreating now,
but it wasn't exactly fear that had her so uncertain at the warmoot.
She wasn't at the second one. She didn't see Erich and Phoebe, a
Theurge of her blood-tribe, get all up in each other's faces. Frankly,
she barely knows anyone beyond Charlotte and Erich. That may be the
source of her silence.
Well, Erich gets mad. And Melantha knows him well enough to know the difference between getting mad and losing his temper and RUN,
but it's still worth noting that she doesn't flinch when his voice
raises. She looks at him, her brows tugging together, head tipping to
the side. He stops yelling, and he nudges her. Her mouth, turned down,
lightens a little with familarity and affection, but she doesn't bump
him back. No reason, really. He's just pretty solid, and bumping
against him usually ends in her stumbling backward.
Hector says
hi, and she looks over at him, startled to hear her name from a voice
she mostly finds unknown. "H- hi," she says, politely enough. That
uncertainty: it's not fear. Not even with Erich and Javed near her.
Not even with Lola scowling. Not even with two Galliards standing right
there. She breathes in deep, and drops her hand to hold Erich's. Not
for solidarity or comfort. Just cuz, y'know. Handholding.
Lola Hawkes
Lola
had harshly questioned Javed's motives on why he would want to re-open
the Sept, and Erich answered for him. The Shadow Lord spoke his piece,
and come the end of his piece he was shouting. This pulled the
attention of a young attractive couple that were walking their border
collie-- the dog whined and yelped and started barking, and the young
couple startled. The man put his arm around the woman's shoulders while
she seized his shirt by the stomach and back. They hurried along
quickly, but Lola didn't notice them at all.
She barely noticed
that another Kinfolk that she only vaguely recognized had arrived
(Melantha got a brief flicker-glance and not much else), for the Uktena
Kinfolk was too busy glaring into Erich's face.
Tread lightly,
was a piece of advice provided to her once upon a time ago, when she
was still reeling from the news that she would never Change, to help
teach her how to interact with Garou now that she would never be one
herself. Today the words rang solid enough in her head, and the fact
that Hector and Thomas were watching to see what she did, that she
pulled in a full deep breath through her nose that filled her lungs and
pushed her chest out.
Astonishingly even to her, Lola's voice is even when she speaks:
"Bane
Tenders keep watch over portals and Slumbering Great Ones. You don't
see our tribe building Septs overtop to keep that shit on lock, do you?
Living where the Wyrm shits is the worst fucking idea I've ever heard.
"And I'd call death a fine 'bout of justice for someone who's responsible for the death of so many. That rite is an old thing, a piece of tradition, laid down upon those that've committed the worst crimes. The fact that that woman chose to strong-arm what she thought was the best idea despite what everyone around her advised, to threat of their very fucking lives? She had it coming."
Javed Anubis-Sight
Lola
is clearly incensed by the very idea that Cold Crescent re-open. This
is not surprising to Javed, who had taken note of the way she had
reacted when he mentioned his intent to do so the night after the
breaking of the Beloved Horror. That she says it the way she does draws
a pause, a raised eyebrow followed by a furrowing. But he is
unphased. In truth, she is hardly the first person to suggest such
sentiment to him...she is only the first person to suggest so in that
blunt of a manner.
Erich goes ballistic. Javed frowns when he
does, because that's not how they're going to get people to their
cause. He looks at Melantha and gives her a courteous nod of hello, but
now there are more important matters. He holds up a hand to those
gathered, to ask for a moment, so he can give his reasons.
"With
all due respect, Miss Hawkes, I have never been quiet about my intent. I
am also not alone. The reason is simple: because it is a Sept.
Because if we are to defend the city of Denver against the Wyrm, then we
need a base of operations here. I believe we can best defend that
portal from a close proximity and that any distance we leave is room for
our enemy to slip in. Furthermore, the Cold Crescent serves our
purposes as a Sept and as we know the mistakes that came before, we are
unlikely to make them again."
He pauses there, looks at the
woman. "In addition, because it is much more than just a base of
operations; it a home to the many Garou and kinfolk who have lived there
for the last ten years. A home is not just a building, and forcing
those people who have lived there to move on to another place will
promote an instability that we can ill afford. Look at my homeland of
the Middle East and see what happens when you force people to relocate.
It would do those who lost their lives defending the Sept a dishonor if
we were to abandoned that which they gave their lives for.
"And
finally," he adds, nodding to Erich here before looking back. "Because
any Sept should not simply be abandoned. Miss Hawkes, you are mistaken
about the portal. It is not a thing of the Wyrm; in fact, from what we
have learned it exists entirely outside of the Triat. Those are not
Banes which emerged, and the only time anything emerges has when they
were summoned. We must defend it, and we are doing so. And the city."
Thomas Delacroix
Melantha
gets a quick nod in greeting, a quick smile. It isn't quite as warm as
the earlier greeting smiles, but that's probably got more to do with
the way his eyes don't leave Erich than because he's never really met
her. His attention flickers between Erich and Lola. Lola doesn't
actively provoke Erich, at least not as counts for provocation with
Lola, but he doesn't really relax.
He follows the discussion.
He'll speak when he's invited to at moots. Or if you catch him with
two of the Garou he trusts most in Denver. And outside of that...he's
not jumping into this debate. At least not yet.
Erich Storm's Teeth
Ballistic
would be one way to describe the sort of
rant-slash-tirade-slash-possible-frenzy Erich looks about to embark on.
But Javed, ever the soul of temperance, steps in with an argument about
fifty times more logical than Erich can muster up right now. Well;
more like infinite times, because Erich looks like he might just ...
yell. Incoherently.
Javed, however, wisely steers clear of the topic of that awful Punishment Rite
and whether or not it has a place in Garou society -- seeing as how
going one way would suggest the Great Elder didn't know what the fuck he
was doing, and going the other might cause Erich everywhere to blow
their stack entirely. Erich, however, doesn't have the foresight or
patience or self-control to keep his mouth shut on the subject. Javed
is barely finished when he blurts out:
"YEAH. What he said. Also, NO. No one
has something like that coming. That was just -- it was like the worst
thing I've ever seen in my life, and that is saying something
considering I raid Wyrmholes for a living. 'Cause, dude. We're not
Wyrm. We should be better than that.
"Torturing someone to death?
Killing them slowly like that, from the feet up, with silver? How is
that okay? How is that ever justified? How is that not something that stains our spirits as much as anything the Wyrm wants us to do would?"
Hector Ghosh
This
would be the optimal time for the Uktena Galliard to jump in and
educate his fellow Wyrmhole raiders as to why it is rites like Gaia's
Vengeful Teeth exist but Hector is otherwise occupied frowning a baffled
frown and clutching onto Thomas's arm and watching the argument.
He
doesn't clutch Thomas the way an aghast society woman clutches the
pearls around her neck. It's more like he's bracing himself because he
has to pay attention to what's going on in the present while he's
mentally dredging all the awful things he's seen in his short-short
Garou life to find a pearl of wisdom and purpose in it.
Being that awesome takes time and effort, man.
Melantha Argyris
Lola's
opinion on both the status of Cold Crescent and the death of Curved Sky
isn't couched in euphemism or disclaimers, and Melantha actually
instantly respects that. She doesn't end her sentences on a question
mark. She doesn't shift her eyes from man to man to man to man to see
if they're liking what she's saying. In fact, she's getting all up in
the grill of a Fostern Ahroun, which -- whatever her other opinions on
it may be -- Melantha decides means that Lola's got her some ovaries.
It's
hard to verbalize any other kind of thoughts when Erich keeps blowing
up, though. He yanks the conversation back to the rite, and Melantha
looks between he and Lola.
"She's dead either way," she says, a
bit flatly, "and the rite isn't going anywhere, good or bad. What point
does it server for you two to bicker about whether or not it was
justified?"
Melantha looks at Javed. "For what it's worth, I know
what you mean," she says, about something other than Gaia's Vengeful
Teeth. "Garou and kin live in cities, and in most cities, they're
like... refugees." She turns to look at Lola again. "Who have every
right to build and hold on to a home together, if they can. And if they
want to build a home where they can do the most good, and keep the Wyrm
from getting at a new source of power, that doesn't seem stupid to me.
It's practical." She shrugs. "Besides, no one's saying you have to live there."
Lola Hawkes
Javed
pulls Lola's attention away for a moment. His voice was a low thing,
and something about its register and the throat that it stemmed from
made it easy to distract Lola from whatever she was about to sink her
teeth into. Bless him, he is calm and logical and takes his time in
explaining his standing to Lola. And, for the most part, she seems to
at least understand where he's coming from.
He says that the
portal isn't of the Wyrm, and her eyebrows lift out of that hunkered
down scowl to show her surprise. Really, now? they say. But she
doesn't have a chance to speak to the matter, to ask her questions and
find out more on the topic. Erich is interjecting again, following up
from where the Silent Strider left off. Except, rather than defending
his reasons for staying at the Broadway Building, he instead switches
back to the matter of the Punishment. He says that it's something that
stains your soul, and that no one should be tortured.
Someone stop her, because Lola downright sneers at him.
"Estás tan susceptible,"
she begins in Spanish, her language slipping between the two that she
grew up speaking since she was able to make her young tongue and tiny
baby teeth form words. "Clearly your soul couldn't handle the burden."
Then
Melantha, bless her as well, interjects in a very matter-of-fact way
that what's done is done, what exists exists, and that's the way it is.
Lola's attention settles solidly on her for the first time tonight.
The Black Fury woman addressed her directly, and Lola is at least
respectful enough to listen. She's known for her prowess, her
outbursts, and the fire in her breast that struggles to make up for the
Rage she feels (nay, insists) she was denied, but at least she knows how to listen.
When
Melantha finishes making her statement, Lola scoffs, but something
about it seems more compliant than she had been before. "I don't deny
it needs watchin' and moniterin'. I don't think we should collapse the
building on top of it and ignore it's there-- then it'd come back to
bite our children right in the asses. But to have families
living there? A daycare of infants, people resting their heads? It
ought'a be patrolled, but not lived in, not now that we know what's
there. If you live there, you get comfortable there, and the vigilence
will slack.
"But, like ya said, I'm not the one who has to sleep
with Not-Bane Monsters trying to crawl through another dimension in my
basement." Her hands go up, palms out, in a gesture that says 'That's all you, take it if you want it'.
Melantha Argyris
Clearly, your soul couldn't handle the burden. Melantha frowns, fury blossoming in her pale eyes. "Was that seriously
necessary? You can't disagree with someone without insulting them,
too? No one here is calling you weak or stupid because of what you think. Maybe you could try showing the same respect to them that they're showing you."
Javed Anubis-Sight
Melantha
gets a nod when she pulls the matter back to one that is a bit more
arguable than whether such an extreme Rite should be used,
and--indeed--a look of gratitude. It is not that he does not have an
opinion on Gaia's Vengeful Teeth, of course, but that would only serve
to divide them further and that is the last thing that they need. So he
keeps his attention where it has been: the matter they can resolve.
"I
understand what you are saying. And no one will be forced to stay
there. But I would also point out that the portal rested undisturbed
for years and countless Garou and kinfolk lived without any threat. It
took Green Dragon Itself, embodied within a pack of powerful Black
Spiral Dancers, to cause damage. The portal had nothing to do with what
occurred on Floor 43, I believe, other than its objective. And now,
being well aware of what lies down there and not keeping it a secret, we
can remain extra vigilant in case any other Incarna-possessed Black
Spiral packs wish to assault us and attempt to reclaim it again. This
time, I think, staying up front about it would defuse any potential
bombs as were delivered."
That may sound like it has some sarcasm
in there, at least from the wording. But the truth is that his tone is
quite serious and ever-respectful and calm. He means exactly what he
says; no more and no less.
Thomas Delacroix
People
start trying to bring the emotional volume down a notch or two, and
sometimes then bring it up a notch or two. Hector's grip on his arm is
unexpected enough that he actually glances at Hector's hand and then at
Hector's face before he returns his attention to the discussion.
"Her
fate was not ours to decide." When he finally does break into the
conversation, he addresses Erich, and his tone is relatively gentle, if
strained. "She was not ours to judge. All we have, right now, is to
watch those who have earned that right already and decide whether we
will follow in their footsteps or not. In that your packmate is
correct, the rite will not be abolished, and tonight is maybe not the
best night to discuss it.
"I'm not saying you should be silent.
I'm saying we should reopen the discussion, both discussions if you
like, on another night." He waves with the hand on the arm of his
that's free. "Privately. My place, if you want and need a place to do
this, or wherever else. We can talk."
He takes a very careful
breath and actually makes eye contact with Erich for a few seconds,
though his expression is more of a plea than a challenge. And for all
that he does not like to be in the middle of these things at all, his
tone is steady. "Not like this."
Hector Ghosh
"And his place is really nice," he says. "High ceilings. No one around to hear us scream. You know. Isolated."
Erich Storm's Teeth
Erich's
mouth flattens to a line when Melantha points out that dead is dead.
His hand squeezes hers after a moment, though. He casts her a quick,
sidelong glance. Exhales.
A moment later he squeezes her hand
again. This time it's involuntary, it's furious, he's taking a single
step toward Lola and uttering, clench-toothed, "I swear to god if you
weren't kin -- "
-- only to stop because Melantha is stepping up, and Melantha is kin too, and: well, he just stops. And scowls at Lola. And flicks a glance at Thomas.
"I'm sure your place is awesome but honestly I think she and I are just gonna fight all night if we're in the same room."
Lola Hawkes
Thomas
speaks up this time, and Lola's gaze is pulled toward him. There are a
handful of Garou that Lola would say she has a soft spot for, and most
all of them reside within the circle that is Celduin. Thomas she may
have been unsure of at first, but she regards him more gently as time
continues on. It must be something to do with a budding maternal
instinct.
Melantha's eys light with a mute fury, and she calls
Lola out on the shade that she'd thrown Erich's way. The Uktena didn't
appear ashamed or defensive to the fact at all, though. It was
abundently apparent that she felt justified in everything that she
said-- as to whether she actually was or not was what was left up for
debate (that debate would eventually conclude with, no, Lola, that was a
hundred times unnecessary and probably really stupid to boot).
Lola's
lips were parting to answer back, and the way her mouth and eyes were
held and how smooth her breathing was it was clear that her answer was
going to be a calm one. But then Erich actually took a step forward,
and any progress that was made with the headstrong Kinfolk was dropped
like a plate made slippery with dishsoap.
I swear to god if you weren't kin--
"What?"
Lola's word is barked out, not shouted, but stamped sharply like a
knife thrown in the dirt. Erich had stepped forward one single step,
and for that Lola took two toward him. Her shoulders rolled back, chest
pushed out, chin lifted, and eyes flashed fury. Her lower jaw jutted
out, and she even went so far as showing her teeth just a bit (although
it's yet to be determined if that was intentional or involuntary, an
expression made from years and years of fighting with wolves). "Huh?
Don't let me bein' a Kinfolk stop you, ése."
She's got
her arms to her sides, hands balled into fists, feet set apart in the
grass. The wild glare in her eyes and how her muscles twitched in her
upper body made it plain that she wished he would. Then she'd have an
excuse to throw her fists at someone, and there was seldom a time that
she didn't itch for a fight.
Hector Ghosh
"WHOA."
Hector
abandons his place at Thomas's side and moves with a fluidity and a
quickness that seems woven into his bones. He's slight enough that he
can and does slide between Erich and Lola. It doesn't bother him to have
Rage as hot as Erich's at his back. Doesn't bother him having a
pissed-off girlfriend at his front either.
He puts a hand up on
her shoulder and spins her around so he can sling his arm over it. If
she doesn't want to move with him that's great. He isn't above picking
her up.
"Hey, alright, no. We're not doing this here. Come on. Goodnight, everyone."
Charlotte
Charlotte
shows up. There's no why or wherefore for it but it's a park and
there's a full moon somewhere out there beyond the horizon. The sun has
set, is setting further, is sinking and the days are all closing in
together, getting darker and shorter and the nights longer and the night
sky bright and cold. It is not frigid right now, not freezing not-yet,
but it is cold enough that they can all see their breath. Charlotte
can see her breath and that's what she's watching. The way her breath
condenses and coalesces and then dissipates as it leaves her body.
Atomizes.
She's sitting on the spine of a park bench and one
hardly notices her until one notices her and then if one is a werewolf
one cannot un-notice her because she is royalty.
With
shorn, pink-tipped shoulder-length platinum hair and a certain lankily
adolescent frailty that is deceptive in its spindly way and packmates to
whom she is attuned enough that the frission of Erich's sudden
involuntary spasm of fury sizzles down her spine and is enough to wake
her up from her steady study of her condensed breath and propel her to
her feet and into earshot just in time to hear Lola call Erich an essay.
Then Hector jumps in and well and yes.
Here's Charlotte at the tail end of everything. So much going on that she doesn't say hi except to her pack. In their heads.
Hi.
Javed Anubis-Sight
Hector
moves quickly to get Lola away from the situation, and so does Javed.
Not to get her pulled away, but rather to interject himself between the
kinfolk and the Ahroun. The metis is ever-respectful, ever calm. That
is only because he makes himself so on a constant basis. The urge to
lose control is always--ALWAYS--present and he knows that Erich probably
feels the same pull. The Shadow Lord is just more open about it, and a
kinfolk daring him to throw down--
Well, Javed has little doubt
that Erich wouldn't ACTUALLY do it. But he also is not taking the
chance that Rage proves to be greater than logic, which is why he
positions himself between the two. He says nothing because there is
nothing to say. He just...
Stands there. He's not facing either
of the two, though that would of course change if one of them continues
this dangerous course of action.
He would say hello to Charlotte
if he knew she was there and this didn't happen, but his attention is
kind of preoccupied. And he would have to recognize her too,
which...yeah.
Melantha Argyris
Lola, for what it's
worth, hasn't lost Melantha's respect. It may not matter to the Uktena
whether or not she has it in the first place, but even angry on behalf
of one of her best friends, even though she disagrees with Lola and may
not even like her at all, Melantha has respect for her, and tries to
show it. Lola steps up, fists clenching, goading Erich to fight with
her -- okay, maybe the sheer stupid factor of that lessens Melantha's
esteem, but it's not like it lessens it any more than Erich
half-verbalizing that 'if you weren't kin' threat took him down a notch
-- and Melantha tightens her grip on Erich's hand right back, the flow
of Volcano's power making that grip a lot harder and lot firmer than
Melantha's power alone.
She blinks, startled, when Hector...
completely disregards Lola's agency. Gets in between her and Erich.
Swings her around, puts that ever-so-sheltering arm over her and
decides, for people who are not him, that this is over and he's going to
shepherd his lady away from them. Melantha's anger surges again, like a
storm over a maelstrom at sea, and this time it is directed wholly,
entirely -- and yes, okay, perhaps unfairly and perhaps out-of-linely --
at Hector.
But it's Lola she looks at, to see what Lola's going
to do about it. After all. It's Lola's grown-ass body that Hector is
manhandling, and Lola's argument that Hector is ending.
--
Charlotte,
coming up towards them, can feel that white-hot rage in both her Ahroun
packmate and her not-even-a-wolf packmate. It's like a rapid heartbeat
from Melantha, who isn't getting in between anyone but Javed is and
Hector is but Melantha just holds really tight to Erich's hand while she
chatters through Volcano.
hey! hi! I think everyone is trying
to make erich and thisgirlIthinkhernameislola not beat each other up
which is sort of hysterical because now there's like a billion people
trying to make sure that doesn't happen. I'M REALLY GLAD YOU'RE HERE.
Erich Storm's Teeth
"Dude." Erich's teeth are gritted. There are things to be said, stuff about what would happen or what could happen or omfg or --
"DUDE."
That's
all he says in the end. Charlotte is there. He glances at her
quickly, mind-nudges her, then goes back to shaking his head at Lola.
"I can't even. You're nuts. You would die. I mean, not that I wanna kill you? But seriously, you would die."
Thomas Delacroix
Thomas
looks at Lola for a second like, 'are you even doing this?' And then
he breathes out, hard. It's too forceful to really be a sigh. Because
of course she's doing this. She's bold, and she's fearless, and she
doesn't know how to walk away from anything. It's why he loves her.
It's why she'll die.
He has -mostly- made peace with those things.
Javed
and Hector are already between Lola and Erich. Erich isn't charging.
And...Charlotte. He's come to respect Avery and he owes something to
Sophia, but Charlotte is the only Silver Fang that gets a reflexive
smile from him. She even gets it now, though it is quick and tense.
Lola Hawkes
Lola
and Erich are up in one another's faces, for he stepped forward and she
downright refused to step backward. She manages to spit out her
challenge, and at once bodies are moving to separate them. They all
know what moon it is, and they all feel the almost overwhelming presence
of Erich's Rage pulsing in the warm afternoon air. Javed puts himself
between them, giving each a shoulder, presenting neither of them his
back or his front. Lola jerks her head back when Javed intervenes,
nostrils flaring, eyes wide. She might be about to push him out of the
way, yell at him for trying to interrupt this, but then there's Hector.
Hector's
hand lands on her shoulder and pushes, urging it to move, trying to
physically force her to turn about. He's taller than her, broader in
the shoulder, built deceptively strong for how skinny he looks under the
clothes that hang from his body. But Lola is a strong woman, square in
her shoulders and solid in her hips, dense in her thighs and strong in
her core. He pushes her shoulder and she locks her bones and muscles
and refuses to be moved. If Hector pushes hard enough she'll have to
give up a step of ground, but it probably doesn't come to that. She's
turned her eyes from Erich to Hector, is looking into his face with an
expression that is bewildered, insulted, unsure, wild and flying and
needing something to bring her back and ground her, or alternately to
launch her into the sky and let her go.
His arm goes for her
shoulders, and she may have been about to relent, but then Erich's voice
plucks at her ears again and her chin jerks, face moving from being
aimed at Hector's to looking back past Javed's chest, back to the
blond-haired Shadow Lord who's equally bewildered with her.
Lola wavered, but only because her normal answer to something like that would be to press the challenge. To fucking dare
him to. If Javed and Hector weren't there she would get close enough
to touch her nose and forehead to Erich's face, to breathe hot air down
his throat and drag that Rage and Rise out of him. Since that wasn't an
option she was left to words, and words simply weren't her strong suit.
That's why she says:
"What?
I'd die 'cause you can't just settle shit with your fists?" This is
called over Hector's arm and shoulder, past Javed's solid body. There
were spectators now. People weren't sure if they should call the cops
or not, and no one wanted to get close enough to find out. "You'd kill
me, sure, but then you'd have to hang your fucking head in shame 'cause you can't control yourself well enough to let a Kinfolk survive a disagreement with you!"
Hector Ghosh
It
looks like Hector is being a controlling overprotective male with no
sense of personal space or respect for his kinswoman. It also looks like
he doesn't care how his reaction or the behavior that comes afterwards
looks. Lola locks her feet into the ground and then she starts to shout
back over his shoulder.
That's when he says 'fuck it' and yanks
his arm off her shoulder like her skin shot up about a hundred degrees
in temperature and keeps walking, quicker than he was when he thought
Lola would at least walk with him.
He hasn't ever stood up in
front of a moot and laid down a claim on her. So far as he's concerned
she can make her own decisions and nobody has to come to him if they
want to be seen in public with her. That notion is at war with the fact
that they mean more to each other than 'tribesman' but anyone looking at
him can see he's angry.
And then he starts ranting to himself
once he's past the outer edge of the congregation because he can't keep
his mouth shut when he's this aggravated but there's no point aiming it
at anyone else. The thoughts aren't even fully formed. They just fall
out of his skull like his mouth is a release valve as he keeps walking.
"That's
great, keep trying to to rile up an Ahroun on a full moon so he might
eat your entire head in one bite, I didn't want you and the baby to
actually stay my mate and my baby, why would I want that, mates and
babies are pains in the neck, they just cry and eat things and die
anyway--"
Charlotte
They are both burning in her
mind, then. Both bright, all incancescent. Charlotte does not
understand the way that people of a certain scientific persuasion
understand the sun to burn: she merely knows that it does, that the sun
has a name and the heat inside it is hotter than most anything she can
imagine except the they feel sometimes when things are intense and
jagged and vivid and immediate. So Charlotte has her hands balled up
into fists and her fists curled up beneath the raggedy cuffs of her
slighty-oversized hoodie perhaps in unconscious physical reaction to
that burning-brightness and her mouth goes skewed, twists to one corner
and her nose wrinkles and her attention goes darting-bright over Lola
and Hector; specifically their backs. And Javed, yes his too and there's
enough going on that the coil of instinctive revulsion that lances all
through her because she remembers he's a mule doesn't much show and
anyway no one's looking at her right now because
FIGHTFIGHTFIGHT
Except
Thomas, who flashes her a reflexive smile that she returns, her own
taut-as-his because there is the scent of ozone in the air and well,
Charlotte's smile is a little daft. Her attention is scattershot and
there's so much around them just at that moment.
Erich gets mind-nudged back. So does Melantha. The affection is heavy and is pack-centric and is animal-spirit.
I'm glad I'm here too who are you fighting because she called you essay? I heard a really cool song about the sun -
Chatter
chatter chatter chatter in the back of their minds until Lola turns and
calls out all that over her Fence of Warrior Defenders. All the breath
goes out of the theurge and the creature's pale, wild eyes dart over
Javed, Hector, take in Lola all askance in the shadows. Only a
momentary glance.
Charlotte knows what Erich's rage is like. How
it explodes over him, how he loses himself to red, red ruin. How these
things consume, and are in turn consumed. She breathes out hard, steps
in front of no one, affixes the whole of her attention on her Ahroun
packmate now.
we'rerighthere we'rerighthere stay. right. here. she doesn't know anything about you. she's not your fight tonight.
More wordless than anything though there are words scattered into the
mix. What Charlotte does is make herself an anchor, a sink, a taproot, a
ground.
Ruby Lee
She had to get out of that
house. It's confining in there, with just herself, bad memories, and a
disembodied voice to keep her company. Not that she'll shake that voice,
mind. He follows her everywhere.
It's a pleasant enough day, for
almost-winter, and she's out for a run. Feels good to run, feels good to
be in the park again, even though this time she tends to scatter people
wherever she goes. It's almost a blessing, that, considering that they
smell like meat.
She comes across the little gathering, and it's
not entirely a welcome sight. Most of these people she caught glimpses
of at the Judgement, if she recognizes them at all. Javed she knows, and
she sees how he's placed -- between a woman and a man. Keeping them
apart. For their own good.
"You see how they are?" comes a
whisper in her ear, and she just growls under her breath. This is the
last thing she went to the park for, damn it all. She just wanted to get
away from all this pent-up bullshit. At least Javed's there, at
least...
She takes the run down to a walk, leans up against a tree, and just watches. Yes, let's see how they are.
Javed Anubis-Sight
He
had been keeping a shoulder to each of them, with intent to change that
if one of them continued. They both continue, but one more than the
other. And so he snaps his attention to Lola as Hector stalks away,
staring at her. He's always calm and polite, but a little of both have
begun to erode away now between the Rage (exceeding even his own, no
less) colliding with him on one side and defiance burning on the other
side. His own Rage spikes up a little bit in response of being between
these two fires; it is held firmly in check, though.
"Miss
Hawkes. I would request that you join..." He almost continues with
Hector's Deed Name, but he has noticed the people gathering and he stops
himself. The words sound odd coming from his mouth, like he is
attempting to speak a language he knows but doesn't truly understand.
Like if you had tried to speak Japanese after learning it from a book,
but had never heard someone else speak it. "Mister Ghosh in departing.
Please."
The Please is less of a request than it is a
very, very, very strong sugg--oh, let's call it what it is. He's
telling her to leave while trying to be as civil about it as possible.
Melantha Argyris
Melantha
frowns. She rears her head back a little, not unlike a pup who has
gotten a butterfly landing on their nose and isn't quite sure what to
make of it.
"That's -- that is literally no different from the 'what are you gonna do, hit a woman'
line," she says, taken aback. "It's one thing to stick up for
yourself, but it's a completely different thing to insult and goad
someone to try and prove something about yourself... then unravel
whatever you think you're proving by sneering that they should be the
ones ashamed for picking on li'l old you. That's twisted, sister, and it's cheap. It'd be twisted and cheap even if you weren't garou and kin, even if you weren't male and female."
Her
hand slips out of Erich's, and she steps forward, because Lola is the
only one she's talking to right now. "For what it's worth, if you two
decided to punch each other out, here's how it works: if you lose
control, you aren't going to hurt him much. If he loses control, he
kills you. That power differential sucks, and it's not fair, but it's a real thing we all have to deal with.
"If
he were to swagger around treating you like shit because he knows he's
stronger than you and you can't fight back, then he's a crummy
douchebag. If you swagger around getting in people's faces because you
know that they can't hit you back unless they want to risk killing you,
then you're a stupid asshole. And I don't really know you, but I know
Erich's not a crummy douchebag, and I don't think you're that stupid or
that big of an asshole."
She isn't even paying attention to
Hector's rant, or realizing that Lola is pregnant. She's just talking
to Lola. "So if you're trying to prove something, at least prove
something other than 'I'm a stupid asshole'," she says, quieter.
Lola Hawkes
"No,"
she spits out at Melantha. It was unfortunate, and later Lola may feel
a twinge of guilt for letting her anger lash at the other Kinfolk like
that. But Melantha's not an unintelligent woman, she's probably well
aware that Lola's anger is still flaring at Erich, that she holds no ill
will toward the Black Fury. She probably had more to say, but Melantha
kept talking and Lola yielded the floor to her, but wasn't able to keep
paying attention to what she had to say.
Rage was a flaring
whirlwind about her, and all at once Hector was absent from her side.
This was what drew Lola's attention more dominantly than anything else.
Her head twisted, eyes breaking away from the dead-on heavy-weighted
glare that she'd landed on the Black Fury while waiting for what she had
to say. She was watching Hector storm away, she could hear his voice
but couldn't make out his words for the sound of Melantha's voice
filling her other ear. She held a hand up, pinky and ring finger curled
loosely down, index and middle pointed up. The hand shook a little,
and a small 'Shht!' noise came from her mouth. She was cutting Melantha
off, informing her that she was done listening, that she was trying to
hear something else, that she needed her focus elsewhere.
A few of
Hector's words got picked up on, but truthfully they weren't the most
important thing anyways. The important thing was that he was walking,
not looking back. A pained expression flashes momentarily across Lola's
eyes, flexes her eyebrows up in the middle, but she's scowling heavily
again just as quickly.
The hand that had been lifted to signal for
quiet clenched into a fist, and that fist bounced in the air a little
bit before she took a step backwards. Her body was tight like a wire,
she was so worked up that the acid in her stomach was trying to climb
its way up into her throat. Her nose crinkled up, her forehead mimicked
the texture, and she took another step back. For all of the people
gathered, Lola's eyes find Thomas's rather than anyone else's, and for a
second her expression is a plain to see pleading for assistance: Jesus Christ, Thomas, help me I don't know how to de-escalate anything that isn't what I do.
She
won't wait for him to interject or take the reins, though. Instead the
tension within her will snap with a curse released into the air like
the kind of snarls that lions make at one another over territory:
"Motherfuck!"
And, with that, she spins about and takes
off after Hector at a jog. She barely remembers to snatch her hoodie up
from off the ground on her way.
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