Decker Rohl

Imogen Slaughter

Fri 04:40PM EST
It's raining, it's pouring...

The rain is coming down like a torrent, pounding the street and obscuring the would-be afternoon sun behind a layer of impenetrable clouds. She'd gone dashing from her car to the garage, dressed in a pair of slacks and a rain slicker that declared OCME (Office of the Chief Medical Examiner) on the back, disappearing within, leaving her car out in the rain, while the garage door falls shut behind her. About half an hour later she's out again, on her porch, standing half in the rain turning her head up toward the downpour. Dressed now in jeans, turn at the knees and a baby doll t-shirt with the words "don't touch the merchandise" scrawled across the front, she is clearly not going back to work (if that is where she came from).

Titian hair plastered to her head by rainwater the droplets cascading down her cheekbones, falling into her mouth, her eyes and dripping down her neck, she eases herself up on to the porch railing, back toward the street, leaning out somewhat to catch more of the rain. It's an odd action, perhaps but one she appreciates so much she doesn't appear ackward in doing it.

Decker Rohl

Fri 04:49PM EST
Now.

Wtf. Was she doing?

His roommate was rubbing off on him. He was starting to think in acronyms, the way she did. What the fuck becomes crunched into wtf, "wu'da'fuhk," the primitive tongues of the superadvanced technolheim. Stomping up the stairs with a boxful of random shit (his very literate magazines, pots and pans, one ancient pillow almost flat from years of use) in his arms, looking none too happy about the downpour, he openly stares at his Dr. I-Slaughter neighbor while he backs into his door, using his elbow to push the handle down. A little later there's a crash as he empties the box out...wherever, and goes down with the cardboard spotted and streaked in darker brown from the water.

Emptying out his mobile home. Getting ready to sell the cranky old shell for a hundred bucks if he was lucky. When he gets back, he'll figure out a way to put up a more permanent home somewhere. Maybe. Splashing through the large puddle gathered at the foot of the stairs, this time he bothers to ask.

"Whaddafuck are you doin'?"

Imogen Slaughter

Fri 04:56PM EST
It feels like it should thunder and lightning should crash to go with this kind of dark weather. Instead there is near silence, but for the rattling of the rain on the variety of surfaces North Jersey has to offer, and the whisper of the wheels of cars against the rain slicked roads. Just the rain, and now his voice. One dampened eye slits open into a narrow triangle of blue as she regards him, turning her head slightly to where he stands at the bottom of her stairs. Her slender near-bony-ness is made all the more apparent as the rain drenches her opaque clothing to her delicate flesh. After a moment, her lips part in an answer, "Enjoyin' tha rain," she drawls in her cornish tones, half turning, further drawing herself out into the rain to look at him, up and down, for a moment before glancing toward the remnents of the metal hull that was his mobile home. "Movin'?"

Even through the rain there is a faint smell, dampened and nearly gone, just a faint underlay barely sensed. First it's of lemons. Then just beneath, like an afterthought, a bare memory, the faint smell of death. Almost decay, but more sour.

Decker Rohl

Fri 05:03PM EST
He shifts the clanging box under his arm (plastic plates and what passed for silverware, this time), turning to look with her at the hunk of junk in the parking lot. Space 32A. Space 32B was Rune's fucking BMW roadster, flashy and gorgeous even in this sort of gloom. Talk about inferiority complex.

"Goin' on a business trip." What was that, some sort of quip? "Didn't want it to rust into scrap metal while I'm gone. Gettin' rid of it while it's still worth a buck or two."

The box starts to slip and he, without bothering to excuse himself, charges inside and empties it again. Cacophony. Back outside a little later, he pauses for a minute on the stairs to examine a growing rip on the bottom. Should be able to hold for another trip or two, which is all he'll need.

"Yer gonna catch yer death like that," he tosses over his shoulder as he trots down the slippery steps two at a time. The raindrops on his shirt had long since melted into a solid patch of wetness along his shoulders, seeping down his chest and back; likewise, wading through the puddle repeatedly had turned the lower half of his pants a darker shade than the top by capillary action. He figures even if he slid on his ass, it wouldn't make him that much wetter.

Imogen Slaughter

Fri 05:10PM EST
"Rain doesn't getcha sick, germs do," she replies automatically, a smirk curling her lips as she nevertheless ducks back beneath the eave of roof, remainign up on the railing, just sheltered beneath the overhang. Her hair falls over her shoulders in damp tendrils, the small droplets falling, insignificant against the days down pour. "And it takes some doin' ta get me ill."

She watches as he continues his trials and tribulations with his preparation for a 'business trip', considering another phrase or comment, even opening her mouth to say it, before closing it quietly and remaining passive.

Decker Rohl

Fri 05:13PM EST
"Yeah well," he calls from halfway across the parking lot, "yer the one standin' there with yer mouth wide open for all them germs to get inside. You ain't exactly one to talk."

He ducks through the door (hatch? hole?) in the side of the aluminum can that had served him as a home for the past some-odd years. Distant crashing as things get swept in indiscriminately, and then Decker and the box reappear. Coming up the stairs, he shoots her (mouthing opening and closing like some sort of fucking goldfish) a glance.

"Say it," he growls.

Imogen Slaughter

Fri 05:18PM EST
"I'm not the one sloggin' around in it, either, so I would be careful which kettle you called black, Rohl." She retorts reacting to his rather bitter mood with a blaze of vibrant blue eyes.

Her copper eyebrow arches slightly as he orders her drawing herself into a more of a sitting position, crossing her legs indian style as she balances on the porch. "Was gonna ask you were yer business trip was gonna drag you, but figgered it ain't none of my business." She replies indifferently.

Decker Rohl

Fri 05:23PM EST
He starts to snap back at her, but (surprisingly) flashes a smirk instead. "Feisty redheads, just like they say, huh?"

Inside. Crash(clatterclatterclatterclatterthud). A brief silence. He reappears outside with a roll of clear packing tape, where he sits on his doorstep and patches up the hole on the bottom of the box while returning her shrug with one of his own. "Ain't no place on earth, so you ain't gonna know even if I told you."

Imogen Slaughter

Fri 05:25PM EST
She snorts faintly as he makes a comment about feisy red heads and had she known his tribe, perhaps she would have made a retort back. As it is, she simply smirks back in reply watching as he continues his rounds, unable to see an opening to help, so remaining where she is for the moment, commenting only "Duties o' tha blood, then." More of a statement than a question on the subject of his business trip.

Decker Rohl

Fri 05:33PM EST
A shake of his head as he struggles to tear the tape, which insists on stretching in his rainslick fingers. "Ain't duties really. Just somethin' I gotta do. Ain't nobody told me to do it."

Something like that, yeah. The tape rips at last and he slaps it down, sealing the hole shut. Flips the box over and does the other side, then gets up and heads down for a final round.

This time, he pauses a minute to lock up before he carries the last load, lighter than the rest, up the stairs braced against one side. The index finger of his free hand strings through the keychain, which clinks lightly with his step. Halfway up the steps he wipes rain out of his eyes, shakes off his hand to the side in a small arc of droplets.

"Ask you a question?"

Imogen Slaughter

Fri 05:36PM EST
Her slender hand darts up to toss back soaking wet hair from her face shaking her head as she tries to free her fingers from the sticking knots. It's humid on top of all the rain, so her hair will not be drying any time soon in spite of the oppressive heat. Her eyes narrow slowly into blue slits as he speaks shrugging narrow shoulders slightly, "Ask away."

Decker Rohl

Sun 05:33PM EST
...and he passes her by without anything but that (semi)eloquent look. Didn't talk until he was good and ready to, even if he started the conversation. Inside, more riffraff crashes to Rune's floor. The box sails out of the door a little later. The Full-Moon follows, kicking it down the stairs in the rough direction of the trash bin.

Coming back into the shade of the overhang, out of the rain and out of the sheet of water coming off the edge of the roof, he jerks his chin at the garage. "What's in there?"

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 05:38PM EST
"You're in a right and cheerful mood t'day aintcha?" She notes in a tone of mock pleasantry. Vibrant eyes follow the jerk of the head, "In 'ere? Washer, drier. Bleach," she replies as she rotates her neck slowly, relieving pressure on her vertebrae with a soft crackpop of joints. "Some garbage bags."

Decker Rohl

Sun 05:41PM EST
"Always," he mutters. Didn't have much hair length to speak of, but what there is catches the rain in a million tiny droplets which shimmer and bead and run together down the side of his neck with every movement of his head. Inhaling sharply and none-too-subtly through his nose, he adds, "Smell like shit. Under lemons."

Probably thought she kept dead bodies in there. Cadavers. Human beings reduced to objects for study and dissection in the name of science, justice...whatever.

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 05:48PM EST
She snorts faintly, "Sorry," she says not meaning it in the least. "I was on the job today. When they're ripe, the smell of them can bond to yer skin. Lemons help." Another smirk, a faint shake of her head, showering droplets of rain to the ground, to join the thousands of droplets of the down pour, which shows no earthly sign of letting up.

"Apparently not for your olfactory sense."

Decker Rohl

Sun 05:53PM EST
"Ripe," he repeats. Real good sense of humor, there. "That why yer standin' in the rain? For that great 'spring shower lemony' scent like they sell on Martha Stewart?"

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 05:58PM EST
"Yeh. Ripe. Dead for 'bout a week, an' left in a trunk ripe." She answers, qualifying her previous sentence, before he makes what might pass for a sarcastic quip. "They don't teach sense of humour to full bloods, do they?" She inquires solicitiously as she runs her hand through knotted and soaking damp here. "No, I'm out 'ere enjoyin' tha beautiful day." As if to compound on her statement the thunderstorm this should have been finally breaks, lightening slicing through the sky in the distance. Thunder murmers it's lazy retort.

Decker Rohl

Sun 06:05PM EST
Frowning, he leans back against the stucco wall and folds his arms over his chest. "Helluva way to end up." Cocking an eyebrow, he shakes his head. "Guess I just don't see nothin' funny 'bout none of this."

A glance up as lightning flashes. There's a certain soothing quality to the hush of rain on pavement and leaves and the whispering of wet foliage stirring in the breeze, but thunder's the kind of thing that stirred a primordial response. In some it manifests as fear; in others, a certain thrill. In him, it cranks him a notch tighter.

Beautiful day. Snort. "Gonna get sick," he says again, frown fast heading toward a scowl.

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 06:08PM EST
"No, there's nothin' funny about the dead." she says, "but somehow, I think I would bore the bleedin' daylights outta ya if I went into scientific descriptions as to why I won't get tha smell offa me fer a few days."

He reiterates she will get sick. Blue stoney eyes regard him for a long moment, before saying simply, "How d'ya figger?"

Decker Rohl

Sun 06:11PM EST
For that, a shrug. "Yer standin' in the rain," also a repetition. "My ma always said you get sick if you stand out in the rain."

A little later, as though realizing his mother's opinion probably mattered little to the big-city forensics doctor, or whatever it was called, he adds, "'Sides if you smell like the dead you probably got dead people germs all over you."

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 06:14PM EST
"I'm sitting under the roof. You're standing in the rain." She says pointedly. "And yer in as much danger of gettin' sick as I am." She officially decides that trying to get him to qualify what he thinks 'dead people germs' are, and how one gets 'dead people disease' is not the way to go. Instead, she asks, "What tribe are ye, anyway?"

Decker Rohl

Sun 06:21PM EST
He glances up at the sky, down at himself. The border of wet vs. dry has shifted down considerably from the top, and up considerably from the bottom. The fabric clings to him, faintly flesh-toned except where it wrinkles up into a fold. Must be some sort of wet t-shirt contest, hick/Cornish style.

"Don't get sick," he replies, not so much smugly as matter-of-factly. Then, with a smirk, "Fenrir. Thought you knew already."

Most people guessed. Someday he'll go around telling people he's Child of Gaia just to mess with them. Right after he grows a sense of humor. Which'll be never.

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 06:24PM EST
Well, he had wit. Which is markedly different than a sense of humour. Humour is trying to be funny. Wit, in his case, meant sarcastic comments that could at least surprise a smirk out of her. "I thought ye might be, but tha worst thing that can happen is ta guess someone's tribe an' get it wrong." Perhaps, or maybe it was just some sort of inbred insanity that takes all people born in small towns or villages.

Decker Rohl

Sun 06:27PM EST
He nods his chin up a half-inch or so at her, giving him something of an arrogant, lazy-eyed look. An answering curl of a smirk pulling up the right side of his mouth. "Call 'em Fenrir and they oughta be flattered.

"You gonna go change, or you gonna parade around in those until you do get sick?"

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 06:29PM EST
"Bah." A short sound of near frustration tinged with bemusement, "Will ye stop naggin' me if I do?" Beginning to arch her slender frame off the porch railing. ".... never heard a garou so damned concerned about whether or not a kin got sick...." half mumbled.

Decker Rohl

Sun 06:36PM EST
That brings another flash of a frown. As she peels herself off the wall to head inside, he peels himself off the balustrade and stalks toward his own door. "The fuck said I cared?"

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 06:39PM EST
A faint snort of a chuckle, "Fine. Never heard a full-blood nag so much, then...." she corrects herself as he stalks away bare feet scraping against her own porch as she moves somewhat more leisurely toward her own humble abode.

Decker Rohl

Sun 06:49PM EST
"Ain't naggin' neither," he mutters as he vanishes through the open door. Inside "his" own apartment, he claws his shirt off from the back and pawing through the unholy mess on the ground to find another dry, semi-clean one. The wet clothes get dumped in the general vicinity of the washer/drier; the mess gets ploughed off toward the wall, less in the way.

That bit of housekeeping done, he straightens and looks over the condo, hands loose on his lean hips. Rune was probably going to have an apoplexy when she saw what he did to her fancy high-class high-life high-tech living room, but he'll be out of town by the time that happened. It's all good.

When he comes out of the condo, the sky seems to have darkened another seven shades. Bruise-bellied giants of thunderheads gather and glower. He looks at the arm-length gap between her balcony/patio (and you can be sure they advertised the condos as including both balcony and patio) and his. Deciding the trot down stairs, down the sidewalk and up again wasn't worth the trouble, he climbs up on his stone balustrade, takes a giant step over to hers, and hops back down.

Raps on the doorframe. Must've been deciding to act halfway polite, rather than just barging in. "Come in?"

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 07:02PM EST
A call from within, sounding positive in it's reply, as the faint sounds of someone coming down hard wood stairs, as she opens the door to permit the full moon entrance. An eyebrow lifts as she moves aside dressed in dry clothing now, though the mass of red hair has left damp patches along her shoulders and her back. Black tee. dry jeans. Still smelling of lemons, though thankfully for the most part it ecllipes the other things she could be smelling of.

She closes the door as thunder mutters, drawing ever closer. Her own apartment is differently furnished of course from Rune's. Hard wood floors, rich colours of wooden furniture. Not so much lavishly decorated as done upon a single theme. It's spartan in apparance for the most part. A bigscreen t.v, a stereo system. A few paintings on the walls, suggestions of art rather than true art.

Decker Rohl

Sun 07:12PM EST
He stands in the doorway, thumbs hooked into the flat white canvas belt cinching his pants low on his hips. Thug style. For all his lazy (sometimes unbearable) brand of arrogance and condescension, there's something halfway uncertain as he stands in what passed for the foyer of her home. She wasn't like other people he knew. Garou he could figure out pretty easy: kick their ass and they're beneath you, they kick your ass and you're beneath them. People, even, the kind he surrounded himself with but never quite fit in with, they were easy too. People working for a living, on their feet or on their knees or on their backs. People with no college education, no high school diploma half the time. People who got high to blur the darker shades. Men and women who'd fight one another with their fists on a dime's drop, men and women who'd bed one another for the pure physical release of it and think very little of it afterwards. People, in short, like him in class, status, mindset and outlook.

Then there's this. M.fuckinD., nice condo, not Garou, not his tribe, nothing in common with him other than maybe half a drop of blood they shared a hundred thousand years ago. The thuggish Modi sidesteps just enough for her to get by and shut the door, then goes to sit on the second-to-last step on the stairs.

"Nice," he says out of lack of anything else to say.

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 07:21PM EST
She arches an eyebrow slightly smirking faintly, "Thank you" she replies absently, glancing down at him as he sits crouched in her stair well, pausing for a moment at a loss for words wondering vaguely why on earth he would be here. "Uhm... would ye like to come in a little bit farther?"

Decker Rohl

Sun 07:36PM EST
He shakes his head: no, he did not. Then, catching her puzzled look, he adds, "Just killin' time 'til evenin'. Got someone to meet before I go."

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 07:41PM EST
"Ah. I see." Sitting down before him on the floor, crossing her legs indian style as she tilts her head up slightly to glance at him, a hand reaching up to pull away a drying spiral of hair from her face. Just outside the front window, lightning spears the sky. "Want a drink?"

Decker Rohl

Sun 07:46PM EST
Another shake of his head: he's good. No thanks included. After a moment of staring back and forth, he smirks. "Makin' you nervous?"

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 07:47PM EST
She smirks faintly a mirror to his own. In a way she detests the implication that she's nervous. The implication of weakness, "More curious why tha hell you'd pick my condo ta kill time in when you have all the technology in tha world next door."

Decker Rohl

Sun 07:55PM EST
He frowns a little, picking dirt out from under his nail. Moving his shoulders under the new shirt, which looked remarkably like the old: wifebeater, white, looks like an undershirt turned to outerwear, he replies, "Too many buttons to push. Afraid I'll blow it all up. Anyway," he adds, flicking the dirt he's rooted out off, "maybe I like makin' you nervous

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 08:03PM EST
She lifts herself off the floor, with sound of amusement deep in her throat standing to her full height of... err. five foot four. "I'm ever so glad ta be providing you with amusement before you go off ta 'fight tha good fight'." She replies sardonically as she turns, walking through the carefully appointed living room, and heading into the kitchen. After a moment, he can hear the fridge open. And then close. A crack, as a bottle of beer is opened and she reenters moving again to sit in the hallway, taking a swig of the beer.

"So wonderful ta know I have me own part, y'know," she concludes.

Decker Rohl

Sun 08:09PM EST
"Hey," he shrugs, eyeing her beer and holding his hand out for a sip after all, "this or brood marin', right?"

A pause - perhaps an offended one on her end - before he adds, half-grudgingly, "Didn't mean that as a threat or nothin'."

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 08:11PM EST
Her lips curl into a smirk, as she offers him the beer, holding it by the neck. Perhaps she is offended by the comment, for certainly, her lips tighten at the comment, before shrugging it off, adding an equally grudging, "Of course it wasn't," a hand waving in dismissal of the entire comment.

Decker Rohl

Sun 08:13PM EST
Leaning up and forward to snag the beer, he downs a sip before holding it back out. "You got one, though?"

One what?

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 08:15PM EST
One what is correct. A blink as she stares at him for a moment, "One what? Brood mare?" she replies after a moment of contemplation trying to discover exactly what the crazy Fenrir meant now.

Decker Rohl

Sun 08:18PM EST
"A part," he replies impatiently. In Decker's world, everyone speaks in monosyllables and chopped phrases. "In the whole fuckin scheme of things."

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 08:20PM EST
"Yeah." She does a good job of speaking simply, for a doc. "I fuck over my career when a dead body with something questionable comes my way. Evidence gets lost, the autopsy gets fucked up. People don't find the silver bullet, or that the claw marks could never be that of a dog, or a wolf, or even a bear. Beyond that, I'm still figuring it out."

Decker Rohl

Sun 08:29PM EST
"Yeah well," he mutters, wiping the moisture from the cold one off on his leg, "me, I'm just point and kill."

Looking up, he flashes her a smirk bordering on a grin that might've been surprisingly charismatic for all the half-second it was on his lips. Then he gets up, dusts off, and tilts his chin at her. "Thanks fer the company, Imogen." Not far into the apartment anyway, he turns around to let himself out. "Don't get kidnapped by the big bad wolves while I'm gone, huh?"

Imogen Slaughter

Sun 08:31PM EST
A ghost of a smile curves her lips as she lifts her lips in the movement, raising the beer up in a jaunty salute, "I shall do my best, Rohl. Try not ta get killed why yer gone, huh?"

Decker Rohl

Sun 08:37PM EST
Pulling the door open - "Hell no. Might dissect me, make me a fur rug." - and pulling the door shut.

Missy

Mon 12:30AM EST
She slips up through the trees..
plans had changed The not so conservative method of getting the message to him probably worked..
She assumes..
why am i here she thinks..
hes going to kill me.
She made sure no one was following her, she didnt even tell them who she was meeting..
breathe...deep breath ironic as she lights up a smoke...

im one step closer to the edge and im about to break

She walks into the abandoned drive in, the tank top tight on her body, the jens baggy as always, converse high tops and a bacpack hangs off one of her shoulders..
at least im out of the chaos back at home (malcoms) she still called it home, it wasnt..
I really ought to go back to my dump of a shithole...

She walks...looking around..
wndering if he got the message..
shit she knew he liked hookers

Decker Rohl

Mon 12:37AM EST
Liked might be too strong a word. Was passingly fond of them, perhaps, if only for their discretion, their no-nonsense way of going about physical needs. (Hey boy, wanna ride? Twenty bucks and I'll cross your eyes.)

Soon enough the air shimmers. Just barely-unseen threads break and pull apart. A thickening patch of nothingness forms into the thuggish young Modi, who cracks his neck to the side as though pulling through the Gauntlet had been tough for him. And it had.

Coming closer to her without a word, his low-to-the-ground gait, his swaying shoulders, he raises his eyebrows at her in question.

Missy

Mon 12:54AM EST
Chaos is ever changing, isnt it...Was she naive? probably should she have come here without anyone backing her? probably
Did she...
who knows Who knows what went through the mind of the ragabash as she came to the abandoned drive in

She gazes at Decker, what a day she had, just trying to keep the whatever the fuck he was guy out of her brain was hard enough, but Christian now too...
where was she going next?
She tugs slightly at her tank top and her fingers move to her hair, twisting the hair between them..

She speaks softly...
"Follow me"
nothing like going right back where he came from
stepping sideways...she heads back to the other side...

Decker Rohl

Mon 01:01AM EST
Tilting his head in question, he follows her. It takes him longer; he has to fight harder against the strands of the Wall, but eventually they do give.

In the Penumbra, he is different and yet the same...spirit instead of flesh, flesh into spirit. There is perhaps a nobler cast to him as his (pure) blood shows through stronger, strongly; yet over it all is still the brooding darkness in his eyes.

The diffuse ambient light of the huge (justpastfull) moon casts his cast to the ground. The landscape is deserted, most the unawakened structures of humanity stripped away, gone. The Wyld is still strong here, Gauntlet or not, Weaver or not, Wyrm or not, and she can feel it.

Missy

Mon 01:09AM EST
She looks around..how long had it been since she had been here..shit she rarely came to the umbra..
Taking the time to look around she lets out a soft sigh and puts the backpack down, still close to her feet, and her reach
"No tricks Decker..right?" she looks at him
what the HELL was she thinking, trusting him...he brought Malcolm to Gabriel (although Malcolm was an idiot) why wouldnt he do the same to her?

who knows
Her true name, Wins with Tricks...driven by the urge of lies, and here she was asking him if he was there with tricks..

a mess, a total mess..
paranoia will destroyya
She sighs...a soft sigh, fingers twisting her hair again...
"Im not sure why we needed to even meet up Decker" she shakes her head.."and for the record...earlier wasnt a set up, it was a coincidence..believe it or not..i didnt tell him to go there, if you recall, i was playing pool long before you wandered in there" she watches his face as she talks...
then goes quiet...

Decker Rohl

Mon 01:14AM EST
Hard to tell if he believes her. His gaze is steady and grey, steady until it drops to the Penumbral floor.

"It don't matter. No harm done." Not much, at least. Yet. He chews his lower lip for a minute and then looks up, off to the side where the spirits of long-dead trees rustle in the Penumbral wind.

"I'm takin' off soon," he says, and he doesn't have to say anything more.

Missy

Mon 01:20AM EST
She nods.."yeah i know"
pause
she looks around..
why were they even here
Decker and Gaby never had time to even party together, much...it usually ended up in some kind of argument, and lately, the arguments had gotton worse.
why am i here
Was their a point to this?
a little sense of doubt in her mind about the path she chose?
Maybe its because the one who promised her the safety was already dead...and his own killed him.
nice loyalty
Maybe its because no one had been with her much sicne to teach her...
except Vos, and she didnt understand WHAT he was
(He made brains for dinner)
She twists the hair around her finder tightly, cutting off circulation making it turn colors only for a moment then releases it..
(nervous habit?)

"What you taking off for anyways again?" askin him...
"I dont think..." she sighs..looking around..
who am i? who the fuck am i?
Up until 2 day ago, she was so sure of herself, this WAS her destiny
now..
she doesnt know whats real and what is the lie
lies lies lies
she never doubted it...why was she here?
To prove to herself that she was sure of herself?
my life is a riddle, and i cant solve it
"I dont think im going with you"
(why should i? give me one good reason..and bark it at me and im outta here)
and her eyes move to his..
briefly something flashes through her mind... and she smirks

Decker Rohl

Mon 01:26AM EST
He doesn't even look back at her. If he flinches, if he so much as blinks, it's all turned away where only the spirits will see.

"Out there," he says. "I'll start walkin' and I'll start thinkin'. Focusin'. Then the ground beneath my feet'll turn to bone and rusted steel and the din of battle'll be in the air and I'll be there. First stop. Try to kill my old man's shadow. Won't be able to."

At last, eye contact. Draws half a breath. "After that, I'll keep thinkin'. I'll keep walkin'. I'll keep focusin' and things'll change again and maybe I'll hear my Granddaddy's voice. Maybe not. I'll go and I'll see. Ain't got much of a plan."

He brings a hand up, scratches absently at his chest, then behind his neck. Cracks his neck again. Focuses on her, really looks, and hard. "What's keepin' you?" Detached, his earlier words were, but the quiet, steady hum of his Rage was coming back. Intensity, fervor. "What's holdin' you back?"

Vos Sage

Mon 01:29AM EST
*Rides with Asher. Content in the passenger seat. Looking around absently.

He hums a "Jimmy Eat World" song. He rather likes the name of the band. His eyes scanning around them as they go*

Missy

Mon 01:37AM EST
She thinks...listening to his words...
"Decker...have a good trip..i hope you find what you are looking for i truly do" she chuckles..
"you're good in my book, no matter who you follow, what you believe and what you think" she twists her hair
"Although that whore wasnt much to look at, should have probably gone once or twice in the hay with ya before all this...could have been fun"
She chuckles..and looks around..

"Nothing is holding me back, in fact...its all right..all of it.."
she smiles..its a real smile
"Its all so fucked up it makes sense now...all of it"
riddle me this batman

"Be safe...I dont know why you are going, i dont know why you chose to follow any of it, ill always hate them (Garou) "Always" she winces at the thought..
They (dancers) saved my life from them (Garou)
This was my destiny, its just right she laughs now...

"I gotta go Decker, they are on me like flies on shit, im not gonna stick here until shit happens, it just isnt right...and I have shit to learn, i have shit to deal with.."
enough said...nothing lost, nothing gained
"Kinda fucking funny ya know, all this time ive been here, you and me coulda been fuckin the town up..." she looks around

"Be safe Decker..and lets hope we dont cross paths again...cause I'm sure our opinions of each other will change in time, i cant promise that, but im sure they will"
She kisses her hand and blows it at him...

"Watch your back and try not to follow them too much, its like a cult, its bullshit, all of it..i hate them
and with that her choice is made,
it always was made..she knew it..but she had to be sure

And she looks up and around..
"Im outta here"

Vos Sage

Mon 01:41AM EST
*As they get to the drive in vos srugs and steps from the car.

Looking around he can't "Feel" Anyone here.

He hops up and sits on the hood with one leg pulled up and the other on the bumper.

Letting Asher look around as he wants to.

Rooting around old drive though's isn't really his style.*

Asher

Mon 01:46AM EST
the brakes murmur in the middle of the drive-through lot (he knew south. only. south.) and the Galliard stops, exits, and climbs up to sit on the hood (maybe it's a crashed train of thought or perhaps a wayward memory) of the (stolen) car, just like something was playing on the big screen

[and maybe there was.... just for him]

those mismatched eyes wander over the horizon
(where oh where has my fallen dog gone......)
tongue slipsliding across lower lip in his silence
(where oh where can she beeeeeee.....)

"You seem as if you feel out of place, Vos......"

there is chide - the fomor in the fine suit, well groomed and kept versus the Dancer in baggy jeans, tank boots and an open shirt (just where did you get those scars, little boy)

Decker Rohl

Mon 01:47AM EST
Not so fast. He catches that hand. Not getting outta this without even touching me once. She was cutting her ties, cutting her losses; he can see she's saved up this speech all night, even if she fucked up and stumbled a few times in the delivery.

"Gaby," he says, and that's all he says for a while.

Then, "God damn it. God damn it. I know what yer doin', and you can take it and shove it. Yer just pickin' the path of least resistance now. First time we met, you talked about freedom and all that shit.

"And now. Fuck. Now yer layin' down and turnin' yerself into someone just like the fellows who fucked you up 'cause, hey, it ain't you gettin' fucked this time. But someday it will be. Trust me on that. Ain't no Wyrm that didn't bite the hand that served it.

"You think this is the freedom you looked for? You really think you found freedom?"

Vos Sage

Mon 01:50AM EST
*he chuckels*

I am sort of. DOn't like being dirty and I've found that the farther from the cities one gets the more balls the gaian's have.

* He waves his hand around them*

Too damn open up. Could be snipers...

* he points out difering places*

Hell I could have ordered toxic waste to be hidden out here. That really pisses them off ya know? They hate that shit... had some dumped on a caern from the air once. whoooooooo boy. THat sure put a fire under them.

* his chuckel deep*

On them too now that I think about it.

You ever seen a buncha gaians and their kin running around on fire?

* He makes a Yuck face*

Asher

Mon 01:55AM EST
"Yes."

murmured (which side was he on when he watched them. all. burn) absently
lost in a memory, it seems

"They get confident out here. Too confident. They think it's safe to walk alone at night. And you know.... Vos...."

the words chuckled (chortled) the fat cat entirely too satisfied by the mouse's blunder when it's purr becomes a blues tune all its own

"...... it's never safe for a woman to walk alone at night. Hm? Common sense will tell you that....."

mismatched eyes drifting to a spot (that spot) that, now, is only a shadow (only a memory)

Missy

Mon 02:00AM EST
He catches her hand..fingers tighetening on her...
She looks at him
listening to his lecture
"Nope, i gave up on the freedom thing a long fucking time ago...none of my choices are gonna make me free...except for death" she smirks at him..
"Im picking the path i was destined for, the one that calls to me...the one that I wa supposed to follow...you think its the path of least resistance "
she laughs...
"Try dancing the spiral Decker...you will see its hardly skipping down the yellow brick road.."
she pulls her hand from him, but edges closer...eyes still locked on his..


aint no wyrm that didnt bite the hand that fed them

Asher killed Malcolm...packmates..he killed him..
she tries to dismiss the thought...Malcolm was stupid about some things, the way he handled things..but---

did he deserve to die? How quickly they turned on him...and now, here she was meeting with Decker..

was she next to die..would they say she had been weak?
Thoughts rushing her head..fuck fuck fuck
But this was her destiny wasnt it?
He can see the different emotions in her eyes as she plays over everything all of it...

what am i doing
"I cant go with you Decker...I dont want to be one of THEM she shakes her head...
but why didnt she stay ronin, what was so wrong with that
Cause Malcolm DID his job, he wooed her, he truly did..he was so good about it,

promised her the world, the stars, his sweetness, that almost was too sickly sweet, actually that was what pulled her to them and now Malcolm was dead..
and Malcolm was killed by the packmates he had trusted

shit...she never thought of that
She tenses...standing there
stunned..........

Vos Sage

Mon 02:01AM EST
Hell it's not safe for anyone to go wealking at night.

* he absently scraches behind his ear*

There any reported cases of West Nile Virus in this podunk state?

*He looks around. Not really ever one to be bitten by mosquitos. They just didn't like his taste. but he's no outdoors man. THat's for sure.*

Decker Rohl

Mon 02:07AM EST
"FUCK DESTINY."

It's probably the only time she has ever heard him shout. It's probably the first time he's shouted in ...years, probably. He shifts before her, while she stands stunned - Glabro, Crinos, growing huge and grey and terrible, grey and crowned by white at the shoulders. The killing form.

And yet he doesn't strike.

Destiny gave me this. Wolfspeak, snarled and bitter. He jabs a vicious finger at the white ruff over his shoulders. Destiny gave me my father, and my father gave me this. His mark. His brand. His Rage and his temper and his violence.

Down again. Back to the Decker she knows. Thug in the wilderness, savage in the city. Belonging to neither and both, and with those eyes so full of thunder.

"Destiny gave me that and I feel it in my veins. If I just...let go, follow destiny, I'll be just like him. A great, big, fuckin', hero who beats on his wife and mate, and everyone else who crosses him. I don't fuckin' think so. Destiny can give me what it wants but I'll take what I want.

"And you. Jesus-fuckin-Christ. Destiny gave you that Malcom fuckhead, the Wyrm. But you go dancin' down that path and you'll see Destiny fucks you over just as happy if yer followin' it or if you ain't."

And something nagged at him. His eyes narrow; he asks the question. "Who the hell did Malcom in, anyway?"

Because he didn't.

Vos Sage

Mon 02:13AM EST
Me? I work for Megadon. I don't have anything to worry about. You shouldn't either with that..

* he waves his hand*

Werewolf thing.

*he's aware of the museings of the Spiral. THey do go on aboutkilling people don't they.*

You might want to check the "Sprit world" Or what ever... That's where the Christian guy came from tonight. If she's not here. Mayby she's there?

Asher

Mon 02:20AM EST
again, that sound that dances over his tongue, mimicking the flinging wave

"Werewolf thing...... I like that."

dismissive, but not insulting, hands sliding into the pockets of denims that strange (unnatural, inhuman) gaze seeming to just..... wander (the barrier's quicksilver)

"Tell me more about Christian."

Vos Sage

Mon 02:24AM EST
*He srugs*

Don't know much.
Standard Stray profile.
THinks he's top shit.
Is a bit parinoid.
Thinks he can kill everything.
Overconfidant.
Goes on about this and that as if the people listening to him gave a damn?

*He looks around hearing a night hawk and frowns. Damn Drive in.*

Missy

Mon 02:25AM EST
She looks at him...watching him shift up ready to do the same if needed...
He yells she listens..
she was used to hearing them yell at her

Once he returns to 'Decker' again she takes a deep breath and looks at him...
"I choose my destiny also" she chuckles..."I always do what I want.."
words to live by...
she remembers the things Asher told her..
There were only 3 rules, 3 things she had to remember...
and none of the 3 had to do with tellin her who she could and couldnt fuck
Pretty simple actually
don't violate unspoken laws: carry yourself with pride, for you are the Army of the Apocalypse; let no insult go unpunished, but do not lose yourself in vengeance; and leave no loose ends.

She then thinks about Malcolm...and all of a sudden what didnt make sense..
does

"The beta of his pack" and she laughs..a deep laughter
it makes sense now..the lightbulb had been turned on over her head...
"Holy fucking shit.." she laughs harder now...
"Decker...you head for your destiny, I got mine.." she shakes her head..."Im leaving now...I got shit to do..." and she heads away from him...Ready to slip back into the reality she had chosen...

Vos Sage

Mon 02:30AM EST
*He looks around and sighs*

Can she fly?

* He looks up

Asher

Mon 02:36AM EST
a look casts its way back to Vos

"Sounds familiar......."

still mused (whispered) until a growl thickens through the sound (invisable hackles raising) as those eyes snap to the top of the abandoned screen (you can almost seen the long tail sweeping ground behind him)

Vos Sage

Mon 02:37AM EST
*He nods and chuckels and then sits up as Asher growls*

What is it? You smell something?

*He looks around with wide eyes.*

Asher

Mon 02:43AM EST
strange (days) gaze narrows, ticktocking his indecision
the screen
the fomor
the screen
then fomor

finally it locks on the pretty boy (such a pretty toy), smile widening (hungry)

.......................this better not be you, fomori............

that voice echoing it's whispers through Vos' mind - he's wary of their tricks (the wound still seeps - a touch healing it only so far), though soon looks back towards the screen, deep breath reading the wind as brail

Decker Rohl

Mon 02:44AM EST
"Gaby."

She turns to go; he calls out to her. He has only a few words for her. He has a million more, and he says nothing of them.

In the end, what he does is this: a blade drawn from the pocket of his cargoes; silver shines in the light of Luna, so bright here. Asher's blade, the one that left his voice gravelly and rasping. Held up, twisted lightly to make the light catch. "Give yer Dancer friend my regards."

The knife is pocketed. It wasn't meant for her. He stands there a minute more (--he kissed her last night; he'd felt her want--) and then he shrugs in his old uncaring way. Turns, walks away.

"Later, Gaby."

Vos Sage

Mon 02:48AM EST
What's me?

* his voice curious and a bit mellow. he's indulged in his singulair vice as of late. He's in a decent mood now.

Even after Gaby stormed out. Said later to that little shit sucker Christian. Didnt even bother to LOOK at him. He walks up to stand beside Asher and looks around.

His hand slipping to the small of his back and pulls a Herculian pistol modeled off the stolen Glock design.

He taps it gently aginst his dark pants as he scans the area with the spiral.

His deep baritone voice breaking the night in a soft purr*

Well you look thata way.

*He gestures with the gun*

Ah'll look this way.

* WIth that he turns and walks across the parkinglot. Careful to step over the parking place markers and not trip and bust his face open on the ground.

That would be rather unpleasent.

THe dark hair reflects the moonlight as he strolls.*

Missy

Mon 02:58AM EST
And the words slip off his tongue and hit her right in the chest...
She looks at the dagger, puts 2 nd 2 together..
floored
For what seems like minutes (hours... eternity even)
What was done was done.
Battle was battle..Both good and evil fighting in hwat they believe in, and whos to say who is right and who is wrong, Asher, going to get his packmate out of danger (what happened to Malcolm after having no cearing on the fact that the pack did get him back, as anyone would do...even Decker..
If it was herself taken by the Dancers...if she had been taken to their alpha, Decker would have been with the others and ould have elft a blade in their throats as well..
irony seeping all around them...an incestuous story twisting and turning all around her
Lifes a bitch...never fucking fair, she knew that
He looks at her, their eyes are locked monintarilly eyes are the portholes to the soul(Goodbye Decker)

...and as he walks away she closes her eyes and heads back to the reality shes used to...
"Later Decker"

***and she is gone into shimmering air

Missy

Sun 02:44PM EST
Fuck this why the hell do things have to just fuck up and happen when everthing is going as planned

"Damn you Decker" she says alooud as she knocks the bals into the pocket..
She hasnt missed a shot in an hour..
no one is playing her, not here, they know her
she was the reigning pool hall queen, never met a man who could pin her down...
This is where ineed to be..Vos..Christian, Kaj, Asher..
She thinks, knocking another, this time 2 balls right into the pocket..
middle of the day, shes already buzzed...
just beer
She shakes her head, she was meeting Decker tonight...
to tell him what
lies lies lies..
but lies werent moving her this time she didnt know what to do..
this is you destiny...she knew that, she DIDNT WANT to be one of them (Garou) she KNEW THAT
Why the FUCK was going on in her head..
she never even gave Decker a secodn thought before, he never gave 2 shits about her....
smakc the ball goes flying, 2 more into a pocket

Decker Rohl

Sun 02:49PM EST
...but the second is caught before it sinks, three fingers coming down on it and stopping it dead.

Look up from there: defined arm, powerful shoulders, wifebeater jersey and the (familiar?) grey eyes. "Hey," he says, simply, pawing the ball into the pocket.

Missy

Sun 02:53PM EST
"It was going in anyways" she mutters and finishes the beer...
holding onto the pool cue, resting it against her thigh...
She doesnt look up at him, she looks to the bartender, signaling for another beer...

"Thought we were meeting up tonight"

Decker Rohl

Sun 02:57PM EST
He shrugs. "It's 3 in the afternoon. I'm leavin' soon as the moon is up."

Steel grates over bare concrete floors as he drags a stool up, perching himself on it to watch her shoot pool. Must be something like hunting for him. A way to lose yourself in the skill and the routine, and not think about other shit. When she signals, the bartender glances at him, too - one of those cautious, quick glances he's used to getting from normal folks. Decker shakes his head. Nothing for him, right now.

"You comin'?"

Missy

Sun 03:03PM EST
She doesnt answer...
eyes watching the 2 balls acros on the table...
She bends over the table...
(pause)
And smakc cue bal off the first, knocking it across the table, they both go opposite directions into the respected pockets...
Sh doesnt look up
too much happening lately, fuck you Decker, why they hell do you give a shit

No words yet...she moves to gather the balls, and re-rack them up.

She looks up at him
what the fuck
"Have a drink"

Decker Rohl

Sun 03:05PM EST
She looks up and he's looking right at her. A shake of his head, again. "Not thirsty." She was stalling; he already knew the answer. Even so, "You comin' or not?"

Missy

Sun 03:08PM EST
She looks at him.."you'll know when im cumming" she smirks.."i am a screamer"
she racks the balls up again and looks at him from across the table..
fuck you, what the fuck and WHY
She breaks, 3 go in on the break
not a bad shot
"Quit asking me that..and have a drink, you are always thirsty"

System Admin

Sun 03:12PM EST
*The front door opens and a man in uniform comes in with a hand truck. On it stacked tall is crates of King Breweries Beer. He wheels it over to the bar and sets it down*
"Hey Jo, you ready for todays shipment?"

*The bartender looks up from watching Missys ass and nods*

"Oh sorry Gereld. Sure thing. Wow, you Kings boys are always on time."

*Gereld smiles*

Well they really bust our balls if we're late man. You don't have any idea of the bastards in management.

* THey go over the order and check in the boxes. Gereld grins and pulls out a cardboard tube*

"I also got a new poster of the Kings Wenches for you to put up. I know how your customers love um."

"Them? Hell I love um!"

* The bartender takes it and smiles. the delevery man heads out*

Decker Rohl

Sun 03:14PM EST
He snorts, or maybe it was a laugh. The young thug slides off his stool and strides over, taking the cue up out of her hands. She can get another from the rack.

Leaning down beside her, he lines up his shot. "Told you, I ain't thirsty. Quit dodgin' the question. Said you'd have an answer by today. Lyin' to me again?"

Missy

Sun 03:18PM EST
She looks at him..
as the pool cue is taken..
muttering as she grabs another
"I aint lyin again i didnt lie before..i said id have an answer..i didnt know there was a time limit, what the fuck...am i on jeopardy i dont here theme music"

Decker Rohl

Sun 03:24PM EST
Anger flares: she can feel it. He takes the shot and it goes wide; rising to face her in the same arc, he sets the butt of the cue down on the ground. She's fucked up. She's so fucked up, he can't even begin to keep up. Didn't know why he even bothered; didn't care to know.

"You said you'd have an answer," he snaps, "so I'm fuckin' here to hear it."

Vos Sage

Sun 03:25PM EST
* REMs "It's the end of the world as we know it" Comes on the juke box.

The front door opens and in walks a new man. Today is his afternoon off. He's dressed in jeans and a dark purple teeshirt with a styalixed "M" on the brest. The difference between him and the other guys in the bar is that he makes it look good

The music plays on as he crosses the floor

"... off me solutions, or offer me alteritives and I. De-Cline!"

He gets across the room and stops at the bar and seems to servey the list turning to look around the room.

He's tall with dark hair, blue eyes. A neatly trimmed mustash and vandike.*

Vos Sage

Sun 03:26PM EST
*He sets a slender black case on the bar and watches from where he is. it's about a foot and a half long by 4 inches tall about 3 inches deep and made of hard black plastic.*

Missy

Sun 03:29PM EST
She looks at Decker...
"Fuck..what the hell" she looks back
vollying anger back
"what the fuck do you give a shit for...why you fuckin making such a big deal" she sets the pool cue against the table...

"Here we go again, barking back and forth, is this it, is this all we are capable of?"
she shakes her head..
"This is fucking bullshit, i will have an answer"
havent i made my choice, wasnt that made when i took the wyrm in my heart...my destiny...

Eyes move to Vos as he enters
what the FUCK was he doing here

holy shit holy shit holy shit

I am a marioneltte everyone has a strong, i dance cause you pull the string..

Missy

Sun 03:30PM EST
Her eyes gaze over...and her hands go to her ears...
"FUCK"
She look at the door..
"i gotta get out of here now"

Vos Sage

Sun 03:31PM EST
*He takes up the case and smiling crosses to the tables. Looking them over he reaches into a pocket and comes out with a $100 and lays it on the edge of the table and steps back.

Placing the case on a stool he opens it and pulls out a custom cue and assembles it. Seemingly content to wait for somone to have the sack to take up his bet.*

Decker Rohl

Sun 03:32PM EST
He watches her, the way she reacts, the widening eyes, recognition, and then shock that creeps over her face. Then he turns, following her gaze, and his own is narrow.

Tossing his cue down on the table with a clatter that draws the eyes of every patron within ten feet, he follows hard on her heels. "The fuck was that all about, huh?" low, angry. "One of yours? You set me up, huh? Stallin' until yer buddies get here, real smart. Real fuckin' smart, Gaby."

Vos Sage

Sun 03:34PM EST
*He assembels the McDormott two peice cue and raises a brow at the red necks antics.*

Missy

Sun 03:34PM EST
She looks at him..
"FUCK YOU" she shakes her head..
He aint one of mine"
Now shes pissed, she didnt set up SHIT

GET OUT OF MY HEAD
She walks past Decker..
her eyes dont move to Vos
what the FUCK was he doing here

Missy

Sun 03:34PM EST
to Decker Rohl: as she passes Decker she whispers softly
"Please..ill meet you at my old shack...hes in my head..i gotta get out of here"

Vos Sage

Sun 03:35PM EST
*He smiles to the woman as she tells the other guy to FUCK YOU. Taking a bit of chalk from his case he dusts the tip of his cue and waits*

Decker Rohl

Sun 03:38PM EST
He paces her to the door, aggression in every line of his body, but there she shakes him off, and there he lets her go. The particularly vehement 'FUCK YOU', which draws the attention of the other half of the bar, has him taking a step back, raising his hands in frustration and resignation. She storms off; he casts the mustached rich-boy a black scowl and stalks off in the opposite direction.

Some sort of lover's spat. Young people. Soon as they're gone, the ennui descends again. Patrons go back to their drinks, their games, their bets.

Vos Sage

Sun 03:39PM EST
*He points his cue at a guy at the bar and grins. THe man thinks him a sucker and strolls over to take up the game. And looses**

Missy

Sun 03:43PM EST
She is outside the pool hall pacing...
pacing back and forth
pacing
pacing
Lighting up a smoke..
pacing...
pacing..

"holy shit holy shit holy shit" her hands tremble slightly..
and she heads back inside...

looking at Decker then to Vos..
(cefore decker leaves)

"Both of you...."
eyes to them both
"back room"
she sighs...
eyeing the bartender, who knows this routine oh so well..

"No tricks, and no bullshit"
she has no clue what shes about to do"

Vos Sage

Sun 03:45PM EST
*he's playing pool with a guy. He looks up*

I got a game goin' here sunshine. * He leans back over the table and lines up a shot.*

Decker Rohl

Sun 03:48PM EST
Decker turns back, brow furrowed. Had to be nuts, the girl, asking him to trust her enough to step into a back room with her and her buddy. His hand is tight on the frame of the door.

"Yer outta yer mind," he says, quiet and steely. "I'll be where you said, but I'm leavin' at dusk." A flicker of his storm-grey eyes to the other fellow. "Settle this."

Vos Sage

Sun 03:50PM EST
*he looks up from his shot at Decker* Dude get your cock out of my beer and quit trying to fuck up my shot so this happy shit will win. I dont know what the lady is talking about. She must have confused me for somone esle. * he chuckels. No real malice in his words, he seems to just want to shoot*

Missy

Sun 03:51PM EST
She grumbles...and looks at Vos...
fuck hes in my head again
She looks at him eyes glazed over..
only for a moment

"Im outta here"
she leaves..

shell meet decker in private
shes a basket case...a time bomb
ready to BLOW

Decker Rohl

Sun 03:52PM EST
"Fuck off," he fires back: a temper like a bomb on a hair-trigger. Plenty of real malice there; Decker was a friendly fellow, all right. He turns his back and walks out.

Vos Sage

Sun 03:53PM EST
*he looks at the brute and conciders turnning his brain to jellie and chuckels. No.. it'll help his cause if he alienates Missy more. He lets the man go and turns back to his game.*

Gaby

Fri 01:50AM EST
Holy fucking whoa
What a fucking week...she is completely at a loss for words at the moment

walking up the street..
wonder if malcolm place is mine now...wonder if i WANT it to be?
It washis fault anyways

'im fond of her'
what a dumb thing to say, jeesh
she hadnt lived this (free im free) lifestyle long, but she had a brain on her head..
a good one at that
this was exactly where she needed to be...her life..was in order (order, chaos, disorder, chaos)
She smokes, and walks..

alone

Decker Rohl

Fri 01:56AM EST
Rattling old truck pulls up next to her, one of those cars so old the license plate is still black the way they were fifty years ago, the corners are rounded, and the paint is peeling. She might not stop walking, but Decker keeps up with her, leaning over to roll down his passenger's side window.

Scent of acrid smoke fills the cabin of the truck. One hand on the wheel, the other unlatching the door, he raises his voice to her. "Get in."

Gaby

Fri 01:58AM EST
She turns her head
"do i look like your dog?" she keeps walking...smoking the smoke
"get in?...so you can bark at me some more and take me to some other fucking preacher who wants to tell me how to live my life?"

Decker Rohl

Fri 02:02AM EST
He isn't dissuaded. Like a trick that just won't leave her alone, he keeps up, matching her step for turn of his wheels. "Fuck you," he replies, the casual drawl she's heard so many times before. "I ain't tied you down to listen to him. Now get in the damn car. Ain't gonna kill you."

Gaby

Fri 02:03AM EST
She tosses her smoke and gets in
and i could probably take ya if you tried
She opens the door and gets in...
"Man you ever clean this shithole?"
(sounding like leah to hans in star wars)

Decker Rohl

Fri 02:04AM EST
"No," he fires back, accelerating before her door's even shut. It's a marvel the old rattletrap still runs, not to mention goes at the speeds he pushes it to. "You offerin'?"

Gaby

Fri 02:09AM EST
She laughs.."not a chance, but thanks for asking" she shakes her head and relaxes a bit...
"So Decker...just out for a drive...looking for hookers...wantin some good smoke, or dont you do that anymore since you made friends with papa preacher"

Decker Rohl

Fri 02:13AM EST
He shoots a glance at her. "Nobody changes me," he replies, quietly. There's a rasp at the end of the words, and he clears his throat, frowning, rubbing his Adam's apple. Asher's silver blade did its work well...he had a feeling his voice wouldn't ever be the same again. "Nobody but me."

Taking a left, he casts her another glance. "You dance the Spiral already?" he asks, abrupt as ever, no transition, nothing.

Gaby

Fri 02:17AM EST
She looks at him..
"no" she rolls her eyes..."why the hell are you asking me that?" lies lies lies (but how truthful it sounds)
"what the fuck is wrong with you?" she looks at him as he clears his throat...and rubs his adams apple..
She takes a deep breath and looks over at him..
"listen, your are one of the few of Them (she ALWAYS called the Garou them its nothing new) that doesnt make me want to hurl...i dont wanna ist and volley back banter ok.."
she smiles and winks..."i mean cmon, we got enough people out there to hate"

Decker Rohl

Fri 02:26AM EST
They're going on a highway. Straight unwavering road, and he just looks at her, his grey eyes frank but hooded. He never says much, but he saw more than he'd let on. Knew more, too. She gets the feeling that he might be surprisingly astute under the sneering, the apathy, the contempt.

Finally, she asks him a question. He leans across (does she shy away now?) and pops open the glove compartment, takes out a knife. Silver.

"A Dancer left this in my throat." The message is clear: if he wanted her dead, he would've struck already. Before she can reply, he tosses it out the sliding window into the bed of the truck, well out of reach. The knife clatters around behind them as his eyes return to the road. Miles roll past, measured by thuds of lane dividers under their wheels, cars whooshing past.

"What you do to yerself is yer concern," he says at last, "but don't. Lie. To me."

Gaby

Fri 02:32AM EST
She looks at him...as he leans across she doesnt budge
you gonna fucking try?
but he doesnt...
dont lie to me
and yet controlled by the urge of lies how awkward..

watching the silver dagger get tossed she cringes..
"I live my life how i need to Decker..im different then you, and you know that"
she doesnt comment on the lying, nor does she change her story...

and they drive....
"What the fuck were you doing with a Dancer Decker?" she looks surprised..she had heard of the attack, but didnt think Decker was involved...

"You go to them..or they come to you?" she
stops and laughs..the laughter fills the car
"ohmygod youwell dont worry your pretty little face bout it...hes dead now" she chuckles..
"dead from bein dumb bout shit...hes gone.."

so maybe she hadnt had the luxury of dancing yet...who knew

Decker Rohl

Fri 02:42AM EST
His jaw clenches. She can see it. "What I know," he starts - stops.

"Ain't gonna lecture you," he says at last, taking a right off the interstate. Outside the city now, in the industrial sectors: grim streets full of litter and oil, skies overhead an overcast iron-grey, the same as his eyes. "Just want you to see somethin'."

Turning down a sidestreet then, he passes under a rusting sign advertising some faceless megacorporation or other. "Thought you were tight with this 'Malcolm' fuck. You changed, Gaby. You let someone else change you."

The truck's stopped. He pulls the handbrake with a loud creak and opens his door with a louder creak. It's night, and quiet. His feet crunch on the gravel.

"Come on. Get out."

Gaby

Fri 02:48AM EST
She stops before getting out..
"First of all Decker, you dont know me, so you dont know what or who changed me, and you cant even go there, ok?"
(pause)
"Tight with this malcolm? He was a good lay, and he was completely into (fond of) me...I got what i needed, but i wasnt tight with him, im not tight with anyone, but me...
I didnt change, this is who i always was, had fucking Garou wanting me dead for questioning their precious litany....
had a few of you (prophet, laz, rune) who actually had me believeing their shit...until i realized when i was saved from DEATH by my own fucking family...the people who saved me, they did it cause they knew my destiny
(dark fate..cant fight it)
they have come through with the promises..and dont think i dont know this will probably be one of the last times me and you will be hanging out...
but i aint ever comin after ya, and i aint ever gonna get in your shit..just dont get in mine"

She gets out of the truck..."ya know, all the sides all have their misconceptions...the true ones (she maks a face)
the Ronin, as you all call yourself..and the dancers..
i really ought to come up with my own fucking group" she chuckles and starts to walk, the new navel ring peeking out fro her tan top... her jeans hang on her hips...not such a bad looking girl
"ok where are you taking me?"

Decker Rohl

Fri 02:57AM EST
He says nothing through the tirade, head down, moving (prowling) low to the ground, deeper and deeper into the factory's belly. A few sodium lamps burn unnatural orange, lighting their way at intervals; otherwise, the way is uneven and rough, a tunnel into the depths of the plant sheltered by plywood planks and old steel pipes.

"Where?" A shake of his head, a snort. "To see yer own. The remnants."

The tunnel, which resembles a city's temporary covered-sidewalk where a skyscraper is being renovated, abruptly opens up on a small open area. Shattered TV screens and computer monitors ring it, broken glass crunches under their feet, and everywhere there is the stink of old blood, of piss and shit let loose in death's final agony.

And of sex. Of dried semen, lubricants, Spanish fly.

Spitting on the ground, Decker sifts through the mess on one of the tables where complicated technology once rested and lifts out a video tape. He heaves broken monitors off the table with noisy bangs and crunches until he finds one behind the rest, still working.

After hunting around a moment, he finds a socket. Plugs the TV in. Inserts a tape, hits play and walks out of the room, leaving her to enjoy the (snuff) show.

He couldn't stay. That sort of shit...it always made him lose it. Always.

The Jones Girl

Sun 02:59AM EST
She looks at him
"Listen, i dont need a lesson, i told you i aint one of them, they aint mypeople whatever"
she grumbles..
"if i knew you were taking me to the movies, i would have brought popcorn" she chuckles.."ya ever do the popcorn trick?" she smirks at him and lights up a smoke

Decker Rohl

Sun 03:21AM EST
At the door he turns. "Shut up," a flat-out snarl, that, and vicious, "and watch, whether they're yer people or not."

He slams the door shut behind him. The lock had been busted, the hinges torn half from their places, and the closure is dubious at best. She can hear his receding footsteps in the quiet night, over the tape hiss...that is, until the show begins.

Does she watch all of it? Has the Spiral twisted her so that she takes no pain from it, but pleasure instead? Beatings, rape, torture, finally death, all carried out upon four half-drugged, screaming victims. All by the same four masked men with a sort of dreadful, ritualistic seriousness that is worse than any amount of giggling. All with the camera trained unblinkingly on the scene.

There are shattered tapes all over the floor - doubtless, just like this one. The equipment gathered around, torn to bits and blasted, seem nonetheless to suggest that this had once been some sort of broadcast site where the rich and depraved could tune into death and dismemberment across the Internet. Live.

The tape runs for about an hour, then blanks out. She doesn't need to watch for more than fifteen minutes to get the picture, though - but, depending on whom you ask, the show did get better as it went along.

The Jones Girl

Sun 03:25AM EST
she had barely walked the spiral...and knows nothing more, the one who was to teach her was dead...she had a new one coming to teach her...but

but
this was what the world was??
This wasnt what she thought...
but..
as much as some parts disgusted her, some didnt, and that was sick in itself
dark fate...this was her destiny her flaw, it was what would happen regardless who did it
she watches 15-20 minutes of it before she becomes bored
i didnt do that shit, fuck it, whatever, nothing i can do
mind giving her her own little escapes..
Her mind wandering while she sits there...

"hello...boss, the tapes done...can we move on?"

Decker Rohl

Sun 03:34AM EST
It's a few moments before he comes back in, trailing the aroma of marijuana. Kept him calmer...not that he was ever calm.

He looks from her to the screen, and back. Then in one terrifyingly fast movement, he plows the TV face-first onto the ground where the screen implodes in a small electric fireball. He's not done. Ripping the tape out of the VCR, he smashes it down on the ground a foot from her. Plastic shrapnel fly everywhere and then he's in her face. Toe to toe, nose to nose, his fist twisted into her shirt.

"You whine about what yer tribe did to you, and that's all fine and dandy 'cause what they did was wrong. Then you watch this shit and it's all right 'cause it ain't you doin' it, and it sure as hell ain't you gettin' it done to you. This is the shit the Wyrm likes. This is the shit the Wyrm wallows in, and you think as long as you ain't personally involved, that makes it okay.

"It don't. Not anymore than my not bein' personally involved in yer tribe tryin' to kill you made that okay."

The Jones Girl

Sun 03:42AM EST
The smelllahhhhhh
but then the change in attitude..
and she feels him grab her
"you gonna beat on me like my dad did, go ahead...you wanna rape me too, like my dad did, like my dads freinds did...huh...those noble Garou...THEY werent in the video, they werent Dancers....well here i am, cmon, fuck the shit out of me"
she looks at him
"my tribe came after me fine..whatever, and you can show me whatever you want
disassociaating from whatever she was shown
"You dont know shit bout me Decker..you dont care bout no one but yourself...so sit on your pedistal and fucking thikn what you want...im not doin shit, i aint fucking doing nothing wrong im surviving"
she shuts up
painful memories of being beather to death almost (memories fabricated? or real?)

"You got more of that?" she sniffs the air

Decker Rohl

Sun 04:06AM EST
His grip shifts to her upper arms then, and for a moment she(he)'s sure, dead sure, that the violence in his blood will take over and there'll be no end to the bloodshed.

Then he inhales once, sharply, through his nostrils. His grey eyes flicker away from hers, to the ground, and he lets her go.

"My father," he says, barely above a whisper, "is Njal Bjornsen, the great Get Adren. He's Modi, just like me, but he's killed enough banes to populate an army of hell. He's got Glory out his ass and plenty of Honor too...if he had just a little more Wisdom, he'd probably shoot straight to Elder. The Tribe loves him. Wherever he goes, cubs wanna be just like him. His Elders respect his opinion and if someone has a tough mission that no one else can handle, they send for my dad. He kicks ass all around, takes names, comes back with the heads.

"Growing up, I watched him beat my mother and fuck other women while the Sept lauded him for his bravery and his honor. One day I tried to fight him and he beat me within an inch of my life, locked me in the bathroom, and whaled on my mother until she couldn't even scream no more. Then he walked out the door, my mother a broken, mindless shell, me left to take care of us.

"I was eleven. I ain't said nothin' of this to nobody before this, ever. It's my shame, my weakness. It's why I can't look at shit like that without going batshit. It's why I ain't gonna kick yer ass like I probably should.

"But don't tell me I don't know shit about you and yer life. Okay? Don't tell me I don't care shit about no one but myself."

The Jones Girl

Sun 04:10AM EST
She listens and nods..
your father could have been mine
she nos..she was his mother (not like that) but that was her..
"ok..fair enough"
no owrds will EVER be repeated of what he said, and although she is controled by urge oflies, he can SEE that was the truth..

his weakness..let see...
"It didnt stop with my father...or his friends...its even happend here..."
she lifts her shirt to show him bruises on her side...pulling hte shirt up more, perfect breasts..
tempting...so ver tempting bruises along them..
"and it wasnt one of them" she sighs....
thos eyes looking at him..
then pulling the shirt off
its almost a full moon, what does my scent do to you turnng around, welts on her back..only a few, but still there fresh...so fresh...

Decker Rohl

Sun 04:21AM EST
His brow draws together; his face darkens. She can see the storm creep over him as his eyes go down, down. Then she turns, and the shirt comes off, and the welts are revealed. He touches her, and Rage sparks along the contact.

Drawing a breath, the Full-Moon steps back. "Maybe they didn't," he says, "but they didn't stop it from happenin', either."

He takes her shirt from her hand, straightens it out, and hands it back to her. "I'm goin' into the Umbra for a while. Got some things to settle with my grandpa. He was a good man, and I gotta honor his memory.

"I want you to come with me. I don't care if you've Danced the Spiral or not. It ain't ever too late."

The Jones Girl

Sun 04:26AM EST
she stops and looks at him...."cause i didnt know them then...i knew YOu, and and Laz and Prophet...which by the way, all are missing in action yet again it seems...it was one of yours, it was a fucking Gaian....oh noble Gaiain who did this to me"
"say what?" she stops and looks confused..holding onto her shirt..
"you want me to go where?"

Decker Rohl

Sun 04:35AM EST
"Umbra," he replies. "Spirit-world. Don't know where exactly. Gonna wander around lookin' for my grandfather's spirit. Gonna try to fix his weapon and do him proud."

A shrug. "Hard work, but I can watch out for you. You don't gotta run to people who do shit like this," jerking his chin at the setup behind him, "for protection."

The Jones Girl

Sun 04:39AM EST
She nods..."i dont know, i dont know if i can go"
she sighs..
She stands there...
"Decker..." she still holds her shirt, she isnt shy
"Decker, i hate them (garou) "Dont you understand that, i hate them their rules, all of it, i dont want to be a part of that life, i dont want to be a part of any of them"

Decker Rohl

Sun 04:47AM EST
"So you run to their enemies just to get even? Jesus, Gaby.

"Jesus. The Garou ain't got everythin' right - hell, they probably got most of it wrong - but they ain't on the side that's killin' women and children on the internet for fun and profit. I don't care what bullshit they fed you; this is the reality as I see it. You don't gotta pick sides, but don't pick the wrong side."

He hoists himself up on the teetering desk, gesturing vaguely at her shirt. "Put that back on. I ain't a saint, and I already sinned enough for this week."

The Jones Girl

Sun 04:52AM EST
She smirks, not at al embarrased with her bosy, "dont tellme what to do, im leaving it off cause i want to" she smirks.
"and you aint gonna do shit and i know it, so dont even start"
she chuckles
shed fuck him in a second
"Im not picking sides, stop saying that, she shakes her head
"Decker Malcolm is dead..gone buh bye...so thats tha..ok quit it, he was a good lay, i got to give wicked blowjobs in really wild places, ok thats it...so QUIT it"
she shakes her head..
"What ever happened to your father?"

Decker Rohl

Sun 04:56AM EST
"Then come with me," he fires back, choosing to ignore her little taunt. Was for the best. Wasn't gonna get anywhere with her if she started thinking he was just after a fuck. She'd just stick him in the bin with the rest of the guys that fucked her and fucked her over, move on. "What's keepin' you? The other Dancers? I saw 'em. The pretty-boy Alpha and his two mutant thugs."

Then, quieting, taken aback, his eyes slide from hers. Go back. "He's still out there. I hear about him now and then." Bitterly, he spits the words out, "Still a great big fuckin' hero."

The Jones Girl

Sun 04:58AM EST
She smirks...(having only truly had 2 prtners EVER sexually..funny how rumors get started)
"big fucking hero?" she shakes her head...
"do you hate him?"

Decker Rohl

Sun 05:00AM EST
He doesn't answer that, not directly. The muscles in his arms and shoulders stand out against his skin as he uses his hands to brace himself, shifting on the desktop.

"Every time I go into the Umbra I go by the Battleground and find his shadow and try to kill it." Try being the operative word. "That answer your question?"

The Jones Girl

Sun 05:03AM EST
She nods..
drops the subject...standing there looking at him
she sighs and sits
:i cant go with you"
she is lost, more lost then she knew

Decker Rohl

Sun 05:06AM EST
His mouth twists; a grimace. Fast, but there. Never was good at hiding his feelings. For a minute he says nothing. Then he shrugs, reaching for the familiar blanket of apathy.

"Yeah, whatever," he says with a shrug. A few seconds pass in silence, the scent of old blood and old sex all around, the remnants of violence just and unjust (who draws the line between, anyway?) scattered everywhere.

He has to ask, "Why not?"

The Jones Girl

Sun 05:10AM EST
She looks at him..holding back showing him her at all
i mean look who this was, Decker the jerk Decker the attitude he'd just toss it back in her face..
he would...
she shakes her head and stands up, shirt on the chair, toned body, navel ring showing

"dammit decker, dont ask me, just...just..i cant"

Decker Rohl

Sun 05:15AM EST
"Dammit, Gaby," he slides off the table as she gets up, that much closer to her now - close enough to reach out and catch her by the chin. "Tell me this once and I ain't never gonna push for nothin' again. That's a promise."

He kept his promises. She wouldn't know that, but he did.

The Jones Girl

Sun 05:20AM EST
She doesnt look up at him, her eyes closed
(help me Father? Father? is that who helps me?)
...nothing, empty
(help me someone)
She tries not to open her eyes...
"tell you what once?"

Decker Rohl

Sun 05:24AM EST
Evasion can't seem to shake him off. Quietly stubborn, just like he always is, he repeats it for her, and somehow his grip has changed to a gentler one, both hands, if such is possible of the Modi. His palms rest against her jaw, her cheeks, and his fingers curve behind her neck.

One step from sin(?).

"Why you ain't comin' with me. Why you can't."

The Jones Girl

Sun 05:28AM EST
She stops, her eyes stare at him..one step close to sin, not even close
Mating..that is sin...
pure raw get out your aggression intense fucking is sin
They arent close to sin...yet. His palms on her jaw, she feels them there
why do you care, why the FUCK do you carestill topless, both nipples hard (is it cold out? hardly)

She goes to speak...her mouth quivers slightly..
show no weakness ESPECIALLY to him
dont say it...dont fucking say it
"i'm scared"
you fucking dumbass you said it
weak piece of shit
the voice in her head rings out

Decker Rohl

Sun 05:39AM EST
But he doesn't laugh. Mocking, contemptuous, lazy-eyed, physically superior, arrogant, pot-smoking, alley-brawling, hooker-fucking lustful violent apathetic fuck-up Decker: he doesn't laugh.

(Maybe she's a foil to him. Makes him a better man than he was.)

No; he doesn't laugh. He exhales halfway, and he shakes his head. "Everyone's scared sometime," he replies. "Be stupid not to be. But sometimes it's better if you got someone else with you."

Arm's length distance has diminished. "Listen," he says, not just quietly now but softly, "listen. I'll look out for you. I'll watch yer back ...if you watch mine."

In the Umbra. Elsewhere. He was talking about both, and she can feel it as clear as she can feel the heat of his palms raising goosebumps on her flesh.

The Jones Girl

Sun 05:49AM EST
Just a gasp...goosbumps on her flesh..and a tremble, a slight tramble can you feel it she looks at him
i cant believe you fucking said it you fucking dumbass
vulnerable, compleely vulnerable...
i have danced the first ring, i have chosen a path i am rules by an urge...you dont want to watch my back
She had made her choice...
hadnt she???
Who the hell could she ask, how the hell did she know
fuck fuck fuck
and now she was vulnerable
she didnt like it, her stomache flips..
eyes still on his...
She moves closer, so close he can feel her breat on his neck, her body inches away, still no shirt on from showing her wounds...
just a sot whisper
"Decker, you dont want me there, you dont want me watching your back...im fucked up...my life...everything"
she sighs, the sighs righ across his ear..
its your moon, here i am...vulnerable
She tries to break the gaze
Thats Decker, decker, the dick, the cranky get, what was she doing questioning everything she believed in
she did believe it right...RIGHT??
Who to confide in, anyone she talked to would convince her of their side being the best
(the grass always greener ont he other side of the fence)
still right against him, so fucking close t him
not touching him at all..
she just looks at him

Decker Rohl

Sun 06:04AM EST
So he touches her.

He doesn't touch her body, naked to the waist, lean, toned, beautiful, scarred. His own is hard with muscle, tense beneath his thin shirt, and held away. His hands stay where they are, steadying, cradling her face, and he touches her only to kiss her.

Decker's no sappy romantic, and he'd scoff at the purity of love and romance any day, but it is what it is, that kiss. A pure thing, something he didn't think himself capable of, and didn't exactly want to be capable of. It's the only clean thing about the room, about what's happened in this room before, about what's happened on him, in his skin, to him, by him.

"You have no idea," much later, this, when they have drawn apart and he has tucked his hands into his pockets, "how fucked up I am."

I am my father's son.

Maybe he was trying to make amends. With her, with himself, with something he didn't even know how to name yet. His blood, his family...Gaia? "I could use the help." It's not an admission he makes easily. A shrug, nearly eloquent in truth, as he adds, "I'm leavin' tomorrow. I'll come by for you, and you can decide if yer comin' or not. Okay?"

The Jones Girl

Sun 06:19AM EST
Hand on her face, she returns the kiss, eyes closed..
holyshit what the hell but she doesnt pull away, actual passion intense lust what the fuck is this
How much of her tales were lies
(urge of lies controlsme)
How much were real..
the BSDs wanted Decker, she wouldnt give him to them, not at all..why

Dont worry, this isnt a sappy love affair, she isnt some girl off the front of a romance novel
a BSD or at least heading that way...right
She feels her hand move to his thigh..tansingon it, gripping it massaging it her hand moves up..
passion intensity rage, erotic intensity
she new better, now..thre was no turningb ack she wanted him now
that would be fucked up
she pulls back when he does

whoa
a soft whisper as she looks at the ground...
"meet with me tomorrow..if you can wait until tomorrow, i can know than....i neeed..."
she steps back, her body still exposed..
looking over at him...
holy shit you bastard, this wasnt part of the plan!
She takes a few steps back, still looking at him...
i need to think...i need to think, fucking fuck fuck

All her plans, he dreams, she didnt know which end was up...she had avoided the BSD cause of what Decker had told her when she first met him...
then he wasnt around,none of them were...

no love affair, no strange crish...pure animal instinct..
the moon, the sky Gaia...
whos saving me...who the hell am i
She shaks it off...
"Fuck" she sad walking away, toding on the tank top again...
she turns her head..
"if you wait till tomorrow...ill know what to do"
she smiles at him
first smile in...
who knows how long

Decker Rohl

Sun 06:26AM EST
And so Decker watches her go. Doesn't try to follow. God knows what he was thinking, what he thought now. He just nods, once, and once only.

"Yeah," he says, some sort of affirmation. "Tomorrow."

She's already gone. The moonless darkness was her patron, always had been, even before the Dancers. He knew that, and he knew you never trust a Ragabash. So what the fuck was he doing?

Maybe she'll betray him tomorrow. Maybe she's sure of her faith now, but it'll waver and be gone by tomorrow...just like the trickster's moon. Maybe he'll meet with her and it'll be her and the whole Dancer pack, eight or nine of them, fomors and twisted Garou. Or maybe it'll just be her, dressed to travel.

Doesn't matter. He'll take the chance.

(madison cassidy)
She is sitting in Gabes clearing, re-stringing the large handcarved drum she carried with her. Bare feet against the wood of the body as she pulls the strings tight. Things had calmed down She had been learning, actually listening, and some of the attitude was gone.. maturing? Hardly...

(decker/Kaj)

August evening.

Flies and mosquitoes. A certain sort of unstirring, suffocating peace brought on by heat. Streams are dwindled, easily forded...even by a man with another hog-tied, badly battered and thrown over his shoulders.

Soon enough Decker arrives at Gabriel's cabin. Hut. Wherever the Fianna Elder made his home. Soon enough, the Modi knocks on the door, heavily, loudly.

...and elsewhere. Umbraside. One-two-three-and-four slide through the dense undergrowth of Luna's Shadow. The leader is pale silver, utterly lovely save for his unnatural black eyes. Behind him, his twisted Beta; behind him, a monstrosity spilling maggots and flies.

And behind all three, one who has no name.

(sb)
He follows his Alpha, and his Beta like the faithful hound he resembles. He runs in Hispo, his twisted form only able to truly keep up with his pack as such.

(gabriel thunder oak)
The walk was good, the spirits were restless. Given the situation as it was continuing to unfold it was no wonder either. Thus time spent away from everything... time to listen, time to reflect, time... well Just time.

Returning to the clearing the tall Fianna stood against a tree looking off toward Maddy. Smiling to himself as he silently watched her work her own project.
A humble change and break to the schedule of events that have been taking place as of late.

(maddy)
She looks over to the guy at the door...
heh she recognized him, this should prove interesting
"He isnt there" she smirks, not getting up from the ground...

Also not knowing Erik was behind her, as well as Gabe watching from the trees

(decker)
...which would explain why no one answered. Turning, the thuggish Modi with the angry grey eyes dumps his burden unceremoniously on the clearing's floor. Those eyes slide past Madison then, alight on ThunderOak.

"He is now," mutters the sullen youth, toeing the bound and gagged - and unconscious, at least for now - man on the ground. Malcom. Not particularly remarkable. "ThunderOak," he greets the elder. "Got somethin' for you."

(asher)
the creature moves (poetic) long tail lashing behind the twisted galliard, mule ears listenin to the chitter of Banes

and what's most frightening of all.... he's still. dead(ly). silent.

(blood eagle)
She doesn't even hear his approach. If he was a damn spiral, she'd be dead, or worse. His eyes narrow in annoyance. Maybe this was a mistake... Well, he's back now.

He steps out of concealment, already sized up Decker, and knowing Madison for many years, he throws Gabe his wicked smile, transformed into a demonic leer by the heavy scars on his face.

(kaj)
From the long claws of the Crinos Philodox danglings a stone, its pull subtle but unmistakeable. There is no sunlight on this side of the Wall; there never is. The moon's light is bright, though, and silvers all the world and all its foliage.

Perhaps, for the Fallen Ones, it almost evokes memories buried deep - primordial remembrances of a time before the Spiral, before Tribes, when all were one. Do they yearn for that time, that place, in some part deep in their black hearts? Or is it only a memory recalled only to be brushed aside, forgotten?

This way. Words not spoken by insinuated, a graceful tilt of head, a curl of tail. Deeper, deeper into the Pine Barrens they move, the children of the Wyrm.


(gabe)
Looking to the man the bundle dropped within the grounds of his domain. Unannounced, Unaccepted, and most assure definatly uncool. The thought of anger rushed over him for a moment before he noticed the bundle more closely. Stepping from the tree the large Irishmen moved closer. Casting a gaze off to the side of him as the other approached, it was about time he saw this one again... nodding to him, before turning his attention back to the first.

"And what be this lad?"


(mad)
She glances to the bound and gagged present being towed by the Modi. Setting down the drum against a tree she stands up,
Madison is tall and athletic, long jet black hair spills over her shoudlers, a white streak (battle wound) striped down the right side, and jade green eyes. Dressed in a black T-Shirt that says Chaosgirl across the front and flared bottom hip huggin jeans.


Eyes move to Gabriel as she takes her place next to him, acnowledging him with a smile before returning her gaze to the Modi and his gift

(adds)
Turning her head she spots Erik and actually takes a step back..

"Well ill be damned" she chuckles and the smile grows...
"Missed me that much did ya?"

(decker)
Decker: a model of Southern gentility. Or not. Cracking his neck slowly to the side, the young Modi scowls.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be here." A step back from the crumpled form on the ground. "I got my suspicions about him. He's Garou, but he don't ever come around here. Don't ever talk to any of us, not even when he saw me on the street talkin' to his friend, and I know my blood's recognizable. When I asked him point-blank, he gave me attitude."

So Decker beat his ass. It made sense, in a Fenrir sort of way.

"Also," he adds after a pause, "that friend of his? The more he talks to her, the more violent she gets. Mindfucked." A slow, loose shrug, ignoring the conversation around him. "I asked Rune," no explanation of who Rune is, "she said find someone to 'test' him. I figure you're the one I ask."

Longest speech of the century from Decker, that.

(be)
He raises his head and snarls at her, or maybe it was a smile. Not even she can always tell. "You know it."

He abruptley turns his attention to Decker and the bound figure, leering cruley down upon it, or him, whatever.

(sb)
They are closing. not a sound issues from the No Moon, but his form shifts, shrinks, until he runs in lupus with his pack.

His body seems to vibrate, the closed in things>/B> within him writhing to get out, to find an escape after beeing pent up within the rotting carcass that is SickBoy.

(asher)
anticipation ripples beneath the tar-black pelt
[this way]
not a sound is needed, not in a hunt like this, the gestures of the Dancers more than enough communication...... the whip dangles (hungry python) from gnarled right hand, the blades tucked neatly into sheathes on make-shift belt

(gabe)
"So you bring this lad before me to test him. Test him for what? Taint? Corruption? Truth? And what if he is Corrupted or tainted? What then? For obviously he would not be alone and any who have been in a pack know you will do whatever it takes to find your mate and if this is so you will have led them straight into my domain."

Pausing for a moment as he looks down upon the bound man.

"That might not be a bad thing after all..."

Casting a look to Erik he smiles.

"What say you Brother? This one is of your tribes blood."

(mad)
She nods, and her hands move into her pockets...
Glancing at Gabriel as he speaks...
led them straight into our domain
nice--just what she wanted to hear..She moves to the treeline..slowly...trying to catch scent of anything in the area, anything at all...

"Might not be a bad thing?" she questions, her head turning to Gabe and Erik as she asks..
"How do you figure?"


(sb - 4th beast)
Behind SickBoy, follows the nightmare for all their kind. Its body liek a scorpion, armored, with 6 massive legs, ending in spikes that tear chunks out of the umbral ground as it follows, deathly silent behind the pack. The light of luna reflects of its entire body. Silver body. Its upper body raised, as it would have been ona centaur perhaps? yet this is no such fable like creature. This is pulled from every shifters nightmare, taken form. the 2 lower, massive arms end in great jagged pincers, and the thinner, longer upper arms end simply in razor sharp spikes. It has no definable head, and what must be its one eye glints greenishly with balefire from the center of its torso. Its back has jagged peaks, razor sharp scales. Its long flexible tail, as the rest of it, of pure silver, ends in a wicked spike, the spike dripping of the greenish and burning essence of the wyrm. Balefire.

(be)
He grunts. This aint no Caern. Any violatin of it is between you and him. That's it. And I say we test this one for taint quick, and be ready to move."

He reaches into his army field jacket and withdraws a shotgun. A cruel weapon, its double barrles have been sawed off, and the stock replaced with a pistol grip. But that is not what catches the attention. The barrlles have both been blackened, and bright glyphs worked into it. This weapon is a fetish.

(d/k)
Decker's never been one to back down. Ever. The thug tilts his head slightly to the side at the reprimand(?), grey eyes thinning.

"I ain't here to debate laws, Rhya. If he's tainted, we kill 'im. If his pack comes...well fuck, we're in fer some fun then."

A shrug, no other words. Blood Eagle (blood of his blood) receives a once-over, perhaps a slight nod.

Umbraside: the one, the two, the three, the four move in single file, closing in. Abruptly enough, Kaj'sha holds up his hand - Stop.

The black voids of his eyes take on a sickly yellow glow; he looks. Sideways.

(be)
His eyes scan the surrounding forest warily. Its more than habit with him, this wariness. Its compulsion. His eyes are always wandering, restless in their search for danger. He knows the wyrm well...

(sb)
It bares its sickly rotted fangs in a silent confirmation of its Alpha's orders. slime drips slowly from its diceased jaws, staining the umbral ground below him

[Sideways - Dinner!]

(mad)
Maddy isnt one who is lacking of conversation most of the time, in fct she is never short of words
unless theres a situation and this seems as close to a situation as it could be, she watches Erik and Gabe, now awaiting any sort of logical move...
As the shotgun is pulled out she smirks slightly...its been a while since shes seen that

(4th)
The beast stops behind the pack It knows, just as any nightmare knows, what comes next. It waits, ready to act upon the command given. Its tail rise up to quiver in the air above it, its pincers snap once. A few steps taken sideways, anticipation of the blood that is to spill soon.

(kaj)
...and then that prickling unease (someone's watching) goes away.

Kaj'sha's eyes blacken again, and he looks to his pack - and the bloated monstrosity behind him.

Have a care. The Fianna is an Athro...not to be trifled with. Three for the life of one is a bitter trade.

Grra'ack, link us with your mind. Then you and I and the beast will run interference for Tam'aul - who aims to disable the elder first. Then we take the fight to this side of the Gauntlet.

Clear?

(gabe)
Looking toward Erik he quickly looks back to the bound one.
Kneeling down he looks deep at this one... taking in his scent deeply he begins to cough. Standing up sharply as he growls into the night....

"Gods be damned... this one reaks of the minions.
Which means he probally isn't alone."

Looking toward Erik quickly... as he points toward the Modi.

"This one is of your blood as well pair up and make ready. We need to sweep the wood. This may not be a caern but damnit there's something near here that is begining to wake and I'm not going to let it fall to these bastards."

Looking down to the bound figure he growls at him.

"Kill it."

(be)
Something aint right. "We're being watched..." He growls, already shifting.

(asher)
stop
sideways
it turn to the lupus SickBoy, reaching to catch the slime (diseased) dripping to the umbral ground (bless my hands with your taint, brother)
nodding to the (nothing) words...... their minds crackle (the pack as one)
and then the twisted (metis, unnatural) body thins


(sb)
A short, barking [Laugh] is the quick reply. His body shifts once more. Hispo is more suited, that is clear now. A gaze to the monster [Nightmare] following them, and one to his packmates. All is ready, now, or never!

[MS]~Lets show these pure ones the truth my brothers.. The Father is with us!~


(itzybitzyspida).
"Well shit" Wipping his grimy oil laiden hands, his face sqwinched up in angst before the radiator mist. Grumbling again as he starts banging on the cylinder with his rubber mallot. "Work God Damn you!"

(decker/4th)
Sometime between then and now, the Modi has changed...on all fours now, an iron-grey beast of (war) destruction, his massive shoulders crowned with a snow-white ruff.

Like father like son.

Without a sound, he pads forward, jaws unhinging to reveal long, sharp teeth. Kill it?

With pleasure.

But it is at that moment that the spirits cry out - abruptly and suddenly - into ThunderOak's mind. DANGER!

The fabric between worlds rips. The first one through? The beast. A nightmare which has no name, all sharp teeth, flailing claws, lashing tail. Shrieking in a twelve-partite voice, all the noise of madness unleashed, it launches itself at the Athro...


(mad)
Great
She follows Erik and begins to shift as well..Flesh changing to the black coat with the white streak. Slowly growing in size, instinctively she is behind Erik
they fought as alpha and beta for so long before, it was almost habit
She makes herself alert and watches..
awaiting a cue?


(gabe)
"This is going to get ugly..."

Sliding his hand behind his back under the shirt the object of rage and power is pulled forth as the Great Fianna begins to shift up. As the clothes of mortal man shred away the deep scars across his chest continue to bare no fur or hair of any kind. (Battle scars) of a former demand.

The marks of rank and tribe splay across his back and shoulders as the bone and stone necklace around his neck shifts with him softly begining to glow with the power of the spirits ...


(sb)
So small compared to the other beasts that fall throught he thin veil of worlds. The hispo is more like a large wolf. Its fur having rotted off in places, so much as to leave most of its head and muzzle completely without it in fact. It comes through with a bound, but wiht it, comes the stench. Its the stench of rotting garbage, of oilspills, and corupption. It is the scent of the wyrm itself, spilling out quickly over the woods, to make pure ones gag, and his packmates revel in the scent of home, and pleasures long forgotten. The Hispo bounds directly into a thorn brush, into the cover of the woods, to prepare its attack.

(be)
Thunder erupts in the clearing, shaking everyone to the bone, except the wielder of the fetish that caused it. Many times the fetish has saved him life in just such a way, and he already was certain there was wyrmtaint near...

(4th)
The beast Follows. A huge monstrosity made of pure silver. It appears standing straight over their fallen packmate, its tail raised and poised, its pincers snapping at the air infront of Decker where he was approaching. Its 6 massive legs digging deep furrows around Malcolm where he lies, its one eye sending a greenish, foreboding light to spill out over the pure ones. Its touch is silver, its skin is silver. The creature, is nightmare incarnate for the pure ones.

(asher)
and behind the beast, behind the dodging lupus, behind his Alpha...... finally the shreiking Galliard - he knew they would react, so he waited
(such a beautiful voice reduced to the coils of madness)
the Song of the Abyss, the Father's gifts of disorientation, confusion, hysteria..... and never ending promise of pain


(decker/kaj/4th/st)
BLAM.

Thunder fills the clearing and flattens Grra'ack and Madison both, as well as Decker. Malcom escapes death - for the moment. Gabriel remains standing, barely, and the beast rears, shrieking its rage.

Then, shaking its head, it charges Gabriel again while the iron-grey Modi attempts to get his paws back under himself only be knocked flat by the swift, pale-furred (silver fang?) Dancer that races past.

Wake up, brother! The command of the Alpha to the unconscious Ragabash...

...as the silver beast lashes into Gabriel, and burns, and burns.


(mal)
**the bound and beaten ragabash begins to stir slowly**


(gabe)
Anger rising from the Galliard as the thunder and the intruders rush into the scene. As the minions of the wyrm errupt around him the foul stench overwealming.

Shaking he steps back as the one lashes into his body. The bone breastplate, a gift from the Mighty Spirit of Gaia deflecting some of the blow yet the fire errupts in his flesh as he howls out both in anger and pain as the firey tool of death desends upon the attacker. The Rage singing in his ears as the Silver Blade seaks out the foul heart of the beast in front of him.

(sb)
It is shock by the force of the thunderclap, but most of the force is taken up by the cover it dodged behind. yet it still bursts the air from its lungs. As the silver beast hooks onto Gabriel, together with his alpha, he continues his circling, searching for that perfect target.

(be)
Erik takes aim on an isolated spiral... These are spirals for sure, and unloads the gun. Trigger is rigged to empty both barrles at once when pulled back on all the way. That's a muther fucker of a swarm of hot lead flying at ya. Too bad he isn't loaded with silver.


(kaj)
The isolated spiral happens to be the Alpha. Lead drives the (beautiful) Crinos back, and he bares his teeth and snarls, hisses in rage. Red explodes over silvery white. Steel-grey melts out of his flesh, then, a shotgun (small as a toy in his Crinos paw) dedicated to his body materializing; he takes aim and lets the rounds fly.

You're not the only one with a gun, bastard of Fenris... - words spat in a dialect of Garouspeech so twisted it hurts to hear.


(sb)
[There!]

The No Moon sees Blood Eagle fire both barrels at their Galliard, and his responce is swift, and painful.

Rage burning in his system, as the Hispo charges, leaps, and lands on Blood Eagles back, claws tearing, fangs seeking the exposed neck, but more importantly, splaying that lethal Malleating poison all over the Fenris with the gun, not like when he went for his packmate earlier, this time, the Ragabash doesnt hold back. Maggots, slime, sludge and poison spraying out over the Fenris in a heavy, corrosive and deadly stream.

(asher)
the song stops as breath is stolen (thunders call) scrambling along the ground to regain his feet, Rage igniting the terrifying sounds from its throat again

and the whip lashes out, it's tip wrapping around Decker's throat (shreiking laughter as blood is drawn), hauling backwards..... keeping him from going after Kaj'sha

(be)
The return blast barley slows his, as he was already following it with his body, claws outstretched as he howls to his great ancestor Axel Troll-Feller to come join him in carving these spirals to shreds.

(4th_)
The beast would scream, if it had a mouth to scream with as the klaive sinks into its chest, cracking its silvery body open, to spray out the greenish essence of hell, Balefire all over Gabriel. Struggling to maintain its balance, it snaps out with both pincers, trying to pin the mighty Athro below it, where the mere touch of its silver body will burn like nothing else could.

(gabe)
Anger Raging as the Galliard summons deep within his soul the power of his own people's voice. As the burning sensation in his flesh continues and as the instrument of death in his hand lashes out at the creation... the scream, no HOWL of the Banshee echos from without the soul of the Fianna. Drawing down deep the power of the Faye people with whom he is kin by blood from days past. The shattering soul shreak echoes through the trees.

(d/k/st)
In the chaos, no one seems to notice SickBoy skulking through the undergrowth...not until it's too late, that is. As the Fenrir Modi wheels to take his place beside his tribemate, SickBoy lands on Blood Eagle's back. Poison stings into his body, wracking him with pain...but what Fenrir ever fears pain?

Decker is still silent, as though he were mute. Teeth bared, he lunges for SickBoy - only to be dragged back, gagging, by the Devil's Whip about his throat. Forced to shift to Crinos, he grapples for the suffocating fetish, straining to rip it form his throat...

...when the Howl of the Banshee splits the clearing, and for the second time, sends everyone crashing to the ground.

(be)
Pain is an old friend to the Dark Moon Warrior, it brings him to the very foot of the Bifrost and unleashes his Rage so the Valkeryis will choose him, and with his Ancestors singing in his veins and guiding his claws, he shuffles, four footed, backwards, while yanking forwards on the thing atop him. Then, when it slides forward over his head, his fangs seek its underbelly and neck.


(gabe)
The spuing flame of the balefire a sore memory from his youth when he faced down the demons which cased the scars across his chest. Anger errupted from within as he grasped hold of the Talon objects around his neck, 6 stones in all and in a fit of rage as the silver continued to bite into him the Raging Fist of the Fianna hurled the stones at the attacker in front of him. IN the same instance as the Blade of Firery Silver of his own was being ripped out from within the hiddious carcus of the animal in front of him.

(this is going to hurt.. alot)


(asher)
mule ears pin as the (banshee) howl sends twisted chrinos reeling backwards (death grip on the whip's pommel, the sickness in salvation) to the ground, dragging the choking Get with him, keeping tension on the whip

until everything reverses and the Galliard rushes forward, toxic claws dripping glowing green (and blessed with my brother's bile) aimed at Decker's face...... eyes, ears, nose...... take a wolf's senses and what is he left with

(a soft throat ready for shredding)

(sb)
Thumped by the Banshee's howl, and now pulled over, the no Moon screams as Fangs first tear into his underbelly, and a torrent of Acidic slime sprays over the Fenris face, from the blisters covering most of SickBoy's frame, pure Acid powerful enough to melt metal, or fur and bone with ease.

[My blessing, your curse!]

Strangely enough, the No Moon doesnt try to escape the grip, instead, his own claws as he shifts to Crinos go around the Fenris, and simply, twists the now puttylike spine of the proud Get, the poison already beginning to make this body like clay to be formed [Twisted] into shape.

(4th)
The monster once more reels from the force of the blasts that rock it, over and over, yet its remains with its vice like grip around the Athros shoulder, pincers digging deeper into armor, and flesh. Parts of its body fall to the ground, shattered, and melt into nothing, as the beast does indeed near death, yet one act remains. Its tail rush up, forward, and down, to try and sink its silvery, poisonous stinger into the neck of the mighty Fianna.

(d/k/st)
Gabriel's furious onslaught destroys the beast - utterly. Silver flies in every direction, scalding shrapnel hitting everyone in the clearing. At the same time, the Fenrir Grra'ack has managed to loop twists in the coils of the whip, maw opening to meet claws with teeth suddenly sharper, suddenly deadlier. A burst of Rage gives speed to strength, and Grra'ack is met with a snapping steel trap that feels. no. pain.

Get of Fenris. Child of Shark.

Bought a moment's respite by his packmate, the Alpha of the Black Spiral Dancers looks about him, ripping a fragment of silver form his skin...at SickBoy dragged under Blood Eagle, the Fenrir fighting to the last; at Asher with his whip about the other Fenrir; at the Beast ripped asunder by the (badly) wounded Elder.

Even so, even so...they were three, and now the Gaians were three. One of whom was an Athro. A very. Angry. Athro.

He makes a decision. Fall back! Perhaps SickBoy will try to grab Malcom; or perhaps Grra'ack. Perhaps. Fall back! To me, Dancers!

(be)
No fuckin way! The Blood Eagle finally summons his rage, and unleashes it fullforce upon the monstrosity of disease and venom that has fouled his body. Teeth blun as he grabs and rips, and shakes his head like a great cat playing with a fresh kill. And he feels no pain.

(gabe)
In the speach of the Gaian Garou Tounge he howled in anger and rage as the fire burned him and his flesh bit deep against the silver and bale fire (Damn another battle scar im sure)... he howled after the Three in HIS Clearing... in the Home of the spirits he called and summoned forth for their protection for their aide...

"NOT this time"

Slowly the song was beginning, the thunder of the earth, the very shaking of the settlement was beginning to rumble and quake in the spiritual realm as the call went out to the Great Grandfather thimself....

Continuing to scream anger and rage at the now regrouping and falling back Spirals...

"YOU called down the thunder and here it comes...

Grandfather of old, Father of the world beyond, hear the song of your child, here the song of your pleage. Rage and Anger, Hate and Victory... GRANDFATHER THUNDER I CALL UPON YOU!"

(i'd say about less than 4 rounds and hell is going to be unleashed... not nice to piss of the Fianna in his own back yard)


(asher)

hate
there is hate in those mismatched eyes
rolling beneath the angry Fenrir's charge (whip uncoiled) slender silver blade pulled from the sheath at his belt (wanna taste my blood, Get?) shreking as teeth connect, as shrapnel bites
five inch blade shoved into Decker's larynx
then Kaj'sha's command sends him scrambling away


(kaj/decker)
Selfishness...

Possibly the greatest (only) reason the Black Spiral Dancers have not yet won this war. Kaj'sha is already back across the Gauntlet, loping off, favoring his right foreleg. His pack will come to him...or they will be left behind.

On the other side of the Gauntlet, the Modi gags as the blade sinks into his throat, bright red splashing onto the ruff of pure white. Clawing it from his throat, he drags himself up and limps toward Malcom, murder in his eyes.

You started this...you end with it.


(be)
Fuck.

He lets the unclean thing go, turning to match murderous eyes with Decker as he approaches Malcolm.

He manages two steps before an odd expression comes into his eyes, like something is wrong and he cant figure out what. He stands there growling lowly for a few breaths, then collapses to the ground.


(asher)
a fist cracks against the back of Decker's skull
(might as well get what they came for)
pain resisted for just this much longer (just a little while), throwing himself past the dragging Get and grabbing the fallen (twice?) Malcom, talons ripping into his flesh in desperate drag/lift/carry
matching the murder in rage filled eyes .....he's mine.
and the gauntlet snaps when the galliard runs into (through) the barrier and away


(system admin)
Slowly the Clouds begin to form as the first of the children of the Storm can be seen. The Stormcrows of Grandfather Thunder, their crys and screatching voices begin to shatter the darkness.

Passage through the Umbra is no safer, in fact it would almost be worse as the circleing form of clouds start to take shape the first bolts of lightning shatter into the distance striking trees and bringing death to the Banial spirits that accompanied the Spirals in their crusaide.


(decker)
...and his prize is snapped away. Dazed from the blow, furious, the Fenrir lunges, teeth snapping shut on the Dancer's ankle. Bone crunches, tendons snap...

...but not fast enough.

The Dancers are gone. Darkness settles in the glade and the Modi, baring his teeth uselessly at the empty air, slowly sinks down in exhaustion.


(gabe)
The song continues from the Large Fianna, the silver finally being dug out of the flesh of his side and upper arms, those would heal eventually, yet the fire did its deed. Draining down his right side in a long streak... a faint scar but a scar none the less would form there.

(kaj)
...and Umbraside: the Philodox, far in the distance, turns. Gathers his will, his Wyrm-given gifts; unleashes the command as spirit energy crackles and fades, devoured.

FATHER! Protect us!

Banes gather; darkness becomes absolute. The cackling laughter of the Goddess of Corruption splits the heavens...the Spiral Dancers have vanished with their collected prize.

(be)
His limbs will not obey him. They rebel, locked and rigid as if in death, though his eyes are bright and burning with rage. He grows angrier and angrier the longer he cannot move, and finally gives himself away to Fenris and Frenzy. Still, he does not move more than to throw himself into convulsions of Rage.

As the thunder roars he slips into unconsciousness, fury and willpower spent, though he witnessed the lesson taught to them well enough.

(gabe)
The song slowly dies as the thunder parts and the storm crows of the heavens decend and fly off into the Umbra persuing their prey. Many of the banes will not make it but the battlelines have been drawn.

Standing the rage inside him and the pure force of will refusing to let him fall to the earth as the biting, searing pain rushes through his body. The healing would be slow for this wound. Still he stares off after the menising Spirals...

"Fools..." he growled "Now we know their numbers and strength... the hunt begins"