Hector Ghosh
Over a month has passed since the Grand
Alpha of the Sept of the Forgotten Question gave a small group of Garou
no higher ranked than Adren the leave to reopen a building previously
closed. Some of the Galliards who traveled the septs of North America
and Europe were willing to tell what happened to the Garou who opened
the building in an urban place and some of them weren't. Word spread as
word tends to do and folks as far as Berlin and BrasÃlia and Tokyo have
heard of what is going on in Denver.
Earlier one of if not the
only Uktena currently fighting to get this place back up on its feet
held a sort of court up on the 43rd floor where unidentified Kinfolk are
discouraged from going unaccompanied if they are not outright banned.
Blood flows as free as word spreads up there and conversations are like
as not to come to blows as they are to agreement.
It's later now and Hector is clanging around in the kitchen as he cobbles together dinner.
Whina Dawson
She
looked out of place in the lobby, dressed for nuclear winter. Her olive
drab coat was lined with matted fur, mid thigh on her tall frame, lots
of pockets. A surplus store find. The 'distressed' jeans with holes on
the knees, worn and used to softness instead of purchased for the
'don't-give-a-shit' aesthetic. She wore black tights underneath. Layers,
man. Layers. Her hands were covered in nubby mittens that looked like
they were knitted by someone's blind grandma, and her sun streaked hair
hung in lank, tangled threads. A messanger bag, covered in ink and
patches, was slung over her shoulders.
Whina wasn't from Berlin or
Tokyo, so news didn't have far to travel to reach her. She'd heard of
the audacity of this place and it's shaky times. Curious as her breeding
demanded, she wanted to see it.
And more importantly, if she was going to stay here for any amount of time, she needed to contact family.
Hector Ghosh
The clanging stops when the creature down the corridor hears something.
Before
she lays eyes on the closest thing she has to family in this city Whina
can sense him moving around. Nothing so dramatic as feeling all the
hairs on her arms stand up or having her insides quaver like the chill
outside has burrowed inside her body. But beasts have a way of charging
the air around them.
He pokes his head out of the kitchen when he
hears the elevator and his lips are parted like he's about to shout down
the hall but then he sees a stranger and he squints. Ducks his head
back into the kitchen for a moment.
The Warders never leave this
place. They had to verify that she is who she says she is before they
let her up the elevator. Hector is not a Warder but he's been up here
doing whatever it is he does all day for nearly a week now.
Before
Whina can start to peel out of her cold weather survival gear a young
man of average height and questionable fashion sense comes into the
lobby to greet her. He's in his late teens or early twenties and walks
with a loose-limbed stride as much the fault of his energy as his wiry
build. His black hair is unrestrained and falls to his shoulders. He
wears a metal hoop through the helix of his right ear and has a ring on
nearly every finger. Work boots and black jeans and a flannel shirt over
a band t-shirt.
"Hi!" he says with what would have been a
perfectly friendly smile if he wasn't saddled with enough Rage to
terrify the average person. He offers his right hand and frowns as she
starts to shake his hand. "I don't think I've met you before. Sorry." He
pronounces the word sorry like someone who's spent way too much time in the North Pacific area lately. "I'm Hector. Welcome to Thunderdome."
Lola Hawkes
Having
slept in an empty bed last night, Lola was more willing to agree when
Hector texted her earlier in the day to beckon her join him out at the
Sept tonight. She'd just gotten back in from a short patrol (the
temperatures were quite cold, and the snow from the night before made
travel more inconvenient than it had been. So, she'd texted back:
I'll come to bring you home, at least.
And
that was her plan when she'd come in to the city and parked her Subaru
Forester in the parking lot near to the building. She had to knock on
the door and harass the security guard to let her in, for she had no
codes or special access cards and this was how she always got into the
Sept anyways. She even recognized the fortunate Bone Gnawer Kinfolk
woman with the sandy blonde ponytail that came to answer the door. This
woman had figured out from her last encounter that it was easier all
around to just be friendly with Lola. She let her in and walked and
chatted with Lola on the way to the elevator bay. For her part, the
Hawkes woman was pleasant in return.
She made her way up the first flight of elevators, got out when they reached their height, and walked until she found a warder.
This
is where she would be for the next five minutes, behaving like a
prickly bitch and giving lip to the Warder who was saying he didn't know
any 'Hectors' when she used his birth name rather than his Proper Name.
She called him a jumped up little prick and told him he knew what she meant. He didn't much care for that.
Whina Dawson
It's
a familiar sense. Like stepping in to a yard with an unfamiliar
doberman, even if it looks perfectly friendly wagging it's tail. It's
still an animal, teeth and claws.
Though Whina knew that comparing a Trueborn to a dog would get her smacked down.
She
gripped her bag with one hand while offering the other in an
enthusiastic handshake, postponing the use of her usual hug which people
often found off putting, specially those touchy about their space.
"Whina Dawson, good to meet you." She took a look around the lobby, all
but vacant, "Yeah, I heard you guys had some heavy trouble." She
consoled, her accent odd. Words drawn out, a little flat.
Hector Ghosh
One
has to work up to hugging Americans. Even if Hector looks as if he
could be from plenty of other places besides America he has all the
mannerisms and accentuation of someone who was born and raised in this
country. She can tell that straightaway same as he can tell she isn't
from this neck of the woods.
"That's one way of putting it, yeah,"
he says. He sounds amused by the euphemism and that amusement tries to
cut across his mouth but he's slow to show teeth around here. "You just
passing through, or is someone expecting you? At some point."
Whina Dawson
"Just
passing through. I'm a tattoo artist, been doing a tour of shops around
the country, doing the guest thing, yeah. Trying to spread the word on
menus nation wide and what not." She slipped off the gloves which were
now making her hands sweat and shoved them into a deep pocket. Broad
shouldered and long limbed, she was as tall as most men in decently
heeled shoes.
Her eyes were heavy lidded, giving her a perpetually
sleepy look, and combined with the slowness of her speech it gave an
impression of supreme laid-backness. "Is it okay for me to be up here? I
got hella lost." She jerked a thumb at the lift, "I met your
uh...warder? And he gave me the six degrees. Wanted to know my
grandmas-grandmas maiden name. Glad kuia made me recite that stuff now."
Lola Hawkes
After
a few minutes of bristling feelings and sharp-tongued retorts at one
another, Lola and the Ragabash Warder had reached an agreement-- she
was indeed Echoes of the Lost's woman, she was of the Hawkes line of
guardians of a 'real goddamn Caern', and she was allowed to be there.
He, in turn, did not give a shit what family she belonged to, but
understood that she could continue on. She wasn't unfamiliar, that much
could be agreed.
So, soon later, the elevator doors open and Lola Hawkes stepped out.
Her
canvas coat was worn, zipped down to the center of her chest to
ventilate. A white T-shirt showed underneath. She had jeans, pressed
and stiff and relatively new, and broken in brown boots were on her
feet. She wore no make-up, and had her hair tied into a loose braid,
and looked a little sour still as she stepped away from the elevator
doors and glanced about to try and locate the man that had summoned her
by text.
Hector Ghosh
Hector laughs and rubs the
back of his neck. "Yeah, man, he does that to everybody. It just means
he doesn't want Javed Anubis-Sight coming down on him like a sack of
bricks for not keeping up the defenses around here. You know how Full
Moons are."
She's passing through. It takes him a minute to rewind
enough to remember something she'd said at the beginning of her
introduction and then snaps his fingers all OH HEY at the recollection.
Points at her like she's going to get a bang out of this.
"My mate's cousin. Anthony Tirado. He owns a shop near here. You should totally--speak of the devil."
He steps back from the conversation to cup his hands around his mouth like he needs any kind of help getting any louder.
"Yo, LOLA."
Whina Dawson
"I hear ya." She nodded sagely, knowing the ways of warders and ahrouns well.
Whina
looked back as the elevator doors opened, brown eyes widening a touch.
She gave an upward nod in greeting and a smile, "Heya." Barely even a
word as she turned, including her in the conversational circle. Or was
it a tripod? His mate, she was guessing.
Lola Hawkes
Overall,
Lola was a perceptive creature. She'd spied Hector and the back of
someone's head and shoulders just before the Galliard had leaned aside
to call her name up the hallway. She didn't smile to greet him, but her
eyebrows did raise and relax a little as she approached. Quickly,
Lola's attention fell upon Whina.
To describe Lola, she was an
imposing figure in ways beyond just physical stature. She was a mix of
Hispanic and Native American heritage, and stood tall and square. Her
shoulders were pulled back and broad and her chin was held high by
default, as though she were reflexively posturing on some level, or
fulfilling some need to be impressive. She looked healthy and strong,
and gave the air of someone who's been in a fight or two. It was a
certain kind of hardened that you'd find often on young Garou.
Though
her presence was a heavy bearing and somewhat off-putting one, Lola
still was quick to answer Whina's greeting by nodding her head upward as
well. While she was looking at the Kinfolk directly, she didn't seem
to be hostile or suspicious at least. She even went so far as to draw
her right hand from her pocket and extend it for a shake.
Precisely
as one would expect, her grip was firm and solid and her palms were
calloused with work. She didn't squeeze to overcompensate, though-- not
to say that she wouldn't if this were some burly Get of Fenris she were
introducing herself to.
"Hey. Lola Hawkes. Evenin'."
And, then, to Hector: "There things you need to wrap up here?"
Hector Ghosh
Even
if he doesn't attach himself to her like a magnet to its opposite
Hector does wear a briefly gooey expression when Lola starts to walk
towards them. Dopamine flooding his brain. It's nothing to be concerned
about. By the time she comes near enough to shake Whina's hand the
Galliard has parked himself back in the present and is standing out of
the way to let the women introduce themselves.
"Yeah, I was just
telling Whina here what the situation is," he says. "She's a traveling
tattoo artist, I thought it might not be a terrible idea to introduce
her to Anthony. Since they're. You know."
Hector has no idea what he's talking about.
"Networking
is important." He coughs like to signal his impending and brief
departure from the conversation and jerks a thumb back down the hall.
"Let me go get my coat."
Off he goes. Like a long-haired gazelle.
Whina Dawson
There was a brief 'awwwwe' moment when she saw the look on Hectors face. Her inner chick-flick watcher nearly teared up.
But, back to present.
Whina
took the offered hand, a firm shake. Little callous. She was an artist,
after all, a fairly cushy job for the most part, though spending hours
hunched over and trying to maintain a firm, even grip on a
stick-and-chisel did ache after a bit. 'Whina Dawson." She supplied,
glancing back to Hector as he spoke.
"He mentioned your cousin had a business?"
Lola Hawkes
When
her hand retracted, it went back into her coat pocket, and Lola's eyes
stayed on Hector's face while he expressed what information Whina had
received already before stumbling on his departure and half-jogging his
way back up the hallway to fetch his coat. Lola's face didn't go slack
with happiness to see the Galliard after a night away, but there's a
subtle softening about the eyes that doesn't carry over when her
attention returns to the other Kinfolk.
"Huh?" As though she didn't quite catch the question, but it's followed up quickly by an expression of understanding and a nod.
"Yeah,
he owns three tattoo shops here in Denver." She moved her hands from
her pockets to unzip the coat she was wearing the rest of the way down.
It was kept comfortably warm in this building, and the coat was making
her sweat. With the front of the coat unzipped and pushed back, the
fact that this woman is pregnant is made evident by the shape of her
stomach through the loose fabric of her T-shirt.
"Anthony Tirado's
his name. You could look him up. He might have a space open for rent
if you're sticking around for a few months. I mean, I don't know what
'traveling' is for how long you'll be staying."
She glanced over
Whina, not like she was sizing her up for competition, or at all
really. She was interested in the survival winter coat-- impressed,
really. It had her looking back up to Whina's face and guessing:
"You a Strider Kin or something?"
Whina Dawson
The rounded belly gave another reason for the look that had passed between mates. Whina suddenly felt a little gooey herself.
"That's
awesome. I'll have to see if I have time in my schedule. I'm usually
pretty booked, but i'll see if I can't move some things around." It
always surprised her when she sounded all business-like. Schedules,
booking. It was always a strange to her when people knew her name at
trade shows or wanted her to sign things. Not like she was a household
name, but she was known.
In a way she liked it better
when she was anonymous and could sit and talk to people, take who ever
walked in the door and write their story on their skin.
"Nah. I'm Uktena." The Islander said. " You?"
Lola Hawkes
Having
grown up going through lessons with and taught by Garou, Lola had
learned to recognize the Wolves for what they were-- even as strangers
passed by on the street. This didn't work for Kinfolk, though, nor
could she pick up on breeding in any way. She'd clued in on the
traveling and assumed that the woman was of the Striders. To hear that
she was Uktena, Lola's expressive eyebrows hopped up on her face, and
she nodded her head once or twice before pushing her hands back into the
pockets of her tan coat.
"Uktena." She rolled her head to indicate in Hector's direction. "He's Uktena too. Fostern Galliard."
Now
Lola was looking at Whina more carefully, but her body language was
more open. Less stiff, like were she the predator she thought she would
grow up to be then she would have just gone from stiff-legged appraisal
to pure palm-sniffing interest.
"Not a whole hell of a lot of us around here anymore, though. How long you planning on being around?"
Whina Dawson
Whina
took a look around the corporate digs, steel and glass how many floors
in the air? "Not our usual stomping grounds, yeah?" They weren't known
for being as urban at Glass Walkers or 'Gnawers, but they got around,
more than people gave them credit for. Unlike their Wendigo cousins, the
Uktena took a more global outlook when it came to finding people to
bring in to their flock.
"Glad I met you guys first then. Makes
things easier." She said with an easy smile. "Couple months, maybe. I'm
sorry to hear about your problems here, there anything I can do to help
while i'm around?"
Lola Hawkes
Something about
what Whina said when observing that this wasn't their typical stomping
grounds had Lola scoffing. Sincerely. She tossed her head some and her
nostrils flared with suppressed, mean laughter behind closed lips. Her
hands came out of her pockets specifically so that she could fold her
arms over her chest and look haughty.
"Ain't my stomping
grounds," Lola said, and sounded as though she couldn't be more
disdainful of the building in which she stood. She's not bothering to
keep quiet for fear of offending anyone that may be nearby, and she
lifted her head and nodded it toward the south, or where she was fairly
sure the south was. She got turned around in big buildings like this.
"There's
a real Caern south of here. My family's been keeping it protected and
alive for generations-- since before the European tribes came out here.
That's where I live." Then, again, she was nodding her head up the
hall in indication of her mate. "I'm only here for his ass."
As
for if there was anything she could help with, Lola again scoffed, but
it wasn't a sound that was directed at the woman so much as it was
directed at the situation she was swimming in itself.
"Dunno.
We've just been trying to figure things out, really. Information
gathering's what would probably come in most handy, I'd suppose, what
with the pit here and out at the airport."
Hector Ghosh
A
clanging rings out in the kitchen one last time. When Hector comes
trotting back this time his pockets jingle with loose change and guitar
picks and keys and who knows what else. His knapsack makes even more
noise. He's wearing a hooded sweatshirt underneath an army jacket now
and when he gets back he has a prepaid cell phone out and ready for
number swapping. A hunting knife is strapped to one hip and a medicine
bag to the other.
Conversation interruption: GO.
"Alright,"
he says. "I don't know if you have one of these newfangled gadgets but
supposedly they let you communicate with people across really long
distances with like, pictures and shit. If you have one you should put
its number in this thing in case you need anything. Where are you
staying?"
Whina Dawson
A traditionalist, from the
sound of it. Something to keep in mind for future conversations. "I'll
see what I can dig up, but i'm no Nancy Drew. I usually stick to the
spiritual side of things. Maybe there's something far back I can find,
or if there's any glyphs to be read I might can help, but that's about
it." She shrugged, wishing she could do more.
Turning towards the
disturbance in the force, Whina takes a moment to dig her cellphone out
of her pocket. A clamshell several generations out of date, but it
still worked. "Extended stay hotel not too far." It had a mini kitchen
and a tiny oven, even an gym. Not that she'd ever use a tread climber
when one could simply go outside and Do something.
Lola Hawkes
When
Hector had reappeared, Lola was nodding to what Whina was telling her.
As he'd taken out a cellphone number and interjected to exchange
contact information, Lola simply dropped her chin and eyes so she could
see to be able to zip her coat back up.
She gave the air of
someone who was more comfortable letting others speak for her, but had
no troubles speaking out for herself. As Hector had returned, Lola
looked less open to conversation and more like she was observing than
participating. She did stop to add, for Hector: "Whina here says she
has some knowledge of spiritual goings on and glyph reading. You should
get her some good pictures of The Pit to study." Lola was all for
Kinfolk capability, but even she didn't want to venture too near to The
Pit.
After that, though, while conversations closed, Lola would be
quiet without being surly. When it was time to part ways, she'd bid
Whina a very sincere sounding farewell and 'good to meet you'.
She didn't push with impatience, but only once Hector was ready to go would she leave by his side.
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