[Drew Roscoe] The house that Drew had led Erek to just a scant handful of evenings ago had been out on the outskirts of the despicable neighborhood of the Cabrini-Green. It was on a small, narrow residential street full of trees that were coated with snow from the recent storms. It was probably shady and pleasant during the summer, in the quiet inbetween moments of turf wars and mayhem. Her house was set in the middle of two others, one of which vacant, foreclosed upon by the bank two years ago and uninhabited since. Hers was a small two story affair, with the upper story being much smaller than the lower. It was blue with white shutters, there was no fence to enclose the small yard, and the garage was too small for her truck to fit in, so she'd turned it into a shed and parked in a driveway with almost as many cracks in it as there were dead weeds poking through.
She'd made food that night, chattered for a little while, then excused herself to bed, going up the flight of stairs tucked back behind the dining room to get there. She'd invited him to the guest bedroom, one with a window that looked out into the front yard. It had hardwood floors like the rest of the house (except for the kitchen with its pale tiles), and was decorated sparsely. There was a full sized bed with blue-and-green checkered bedding, a dresser, a night stand, and an empty closet. The few pictures that she'd hanged up on the walls were black and white shots of landmarks across the globe, forgettable things to take up space on the empty white walls. She'd invited him to make the room his own, he could stay as long as he liked.
So a few days had passed, and this afternoon Drew's truck rolled into the driveway around two p.m. rather than the typical five or six in the evening. She'd finished her workload early, worked through her lunch and sped through projects that she could have taken her leisurely time on, but did not. She'd get out of the truck and walk through the front door, closing it behind her and working to unbutton her way out of her thick blue winter coat, knocking snow off the bold purple high-heeled shoes she was wearing on the welcome mat.
"Hello?" It was difficult to tell when someone was home or not, when they didn't have a vehicle outside to indicate presence.
[Erek Skulason] *Like any displaced Garou, Erek travels lightly, carrying anything that can be stuffed into the dedicated bag that he sometimes carries. It explains why he wears the clothes on his back, and the stench of an unwashed body permeates his scent. At least, it did until Drew took in the stray pup. The first night he had arrived, Erek made good use of the facilities, waiting until Drew had gone to bed to make use of her washer and dryer to clean his clothes and stood for an hour under the spray of hot water. His skin a rosy pink hue from scrubbing every ounce of dirt and funk from himself. It was the first time that he could remember feeling remotely human again, and not living out on the streets like a stray dog.
The days following his arrival signs of Erek's presence could be seen and felt. Like most boys, there were dirty dishes left in the sink, or an empty food container left on the counter and not thrown away. He hasn't yet contributed to any housework as Drew has not asked anything of him just yet. The young Get of Fenris has prowled her neighborhood, shadowing the surrounding streets to get a feel for the gang activity, marking a boundary to warn off any nastiness that might be stupid enough to get the idea that her place was unprotected. It wasn't an official claim to territory on his part*
Hello?
*A voice echoes from her kitchen, clearly Erek's, but distracted as if he might be doing something. She'll discover him leaning against the counter, barefoot in jeans and a shirt, peering over a book. His head lifts up at her entrance, blue eyes darting over her quickly before dropping back to what he was reading*
[Drew Roscoe] Official claim to the territory would be conflicting, seeing as Last Watch's turf began a mere two blocks east of where Drew was living. He could mark around the street corners, but if he got too close he'd end up needing to have words with the Jarl about getting a little too ahead of himself. Yet the patrolling helped. He'd find the occasional cluster of young men, shoulders turned to the world, passing illicit things between hands in exchange for money. There'd be the groups that hung out at the park up the street, glowering at people who passed and daring them to say something.
They left Drew's house alone though, thus far at least, because she kept it unassuming. She didn't challenge them, they didn't challenge her. The night that they may try something, though, she wouldn't have been entirely unprotected. She kept a gun by her bed, her shotgun in her truck, and a spare in the kitchen just in case. With a Garou under her roof, now there was no question of security.
She finds him leaned over the countertop in the kitchen, answering her call. She had to grin a little at herself, he was easily within eyesight, she didn't need to ask with that greeting to find him. "Hey." The coat was shrugged off and hung up on one of three hooks she'd put into the wall behind the entry door. She was dressed in her work clothes, nice and business-casual. A pair of black high-waisted slacks that helped add length to her legs (she could use all the length she could get), and a white button-up short sleeved blouse tucked in. She made sure her shoes were dry on the mat before walking in, passing the Rotagar in the kitchen and getting a glass out of the cupboard, filling it up with filtered water from the fridge.
It was a little early to go for the beer bottles just yet. "Is that one of mine, or have you been hanging onto some reading material on your journeys?"
[Erek Skulason] I think it's one of yours. I snooped around a little, but didn't dare go upstairs when I smelled all that frilly girl stuff you keep up there.
*Erek tilts his head, casting a quick glance in her direction, blue eyes following her movements across the kitchen as she pulls a glass out of the cupboard and went to fetch water from the fridge. He blinks, eyebrows furrowing together as the smooth skin on his forehead wrinkles up into a slight scowl. He stares at Drew, his expression becoming blank for a minute, and then he snorts softly. Shaking his head as Erek just woken up from a dream*
How was your day at work?
[Drew Roscoe] "Frilly girl stuff..." She smirks at him and, after putting the water jug back in the fridge, leans back and takes a few long drinks of water before hitching an elbow on the countertop behind her and crossing one ankle over the other. "It's deodorant, actually. I could bring you some home?" Her eyebrows lifted, but it's all play. Grins have a difficult time fading off of her face.
He's watching her, staring without really seeing her it seems, and drifting back into his own mind, down some winding thought trail or another. She watches him do this for a second, blinks, and shifts her gaze down to the book he'd chosen, reading the cover, thinking back to the content of those pages and what all it'd given to her in the week or so she'd taken to devour it. She remembered doing most of her reading in an apartment about thirteen blocks from here, with her dog's head in her lap, one hand rubbing at his floppy ears while the other held the book, stopping only when she needed to turn a page.
Those days had been better.... She found herself staring blankly as well, at the book in his hand rather than Erek himself, when he snorts a little, drawing her attention back to his face so she could see him shake his head and ask a mundane question. She shrugs and smiles a bit, taking another drink from her glass before she bothered to answer.
"Nondescript. We're testing out a new program in radiology, so I installed it on a few computers down there and we tested it out. Ironed out the few glitches there were, came home early 'cause that was my whole agenda for the day.
"How about you? Any adventures over the night that I missed?"
[Erek Skulason] *There was an air of familiarity about all of this, the way they stood in the kitchen together. Like it was something he had always done with another person, Erek leaned against the counter with the book balanced easily in his hand, its weight barely noticeable as line of muscles in his arms coil and flex. She can see through the cut of his clothes that he must have been an athlete before the change, his body was lean, lacking an ounce of fat, hardened and shaped to be built more for agility and speed, instead of the bulkiness of someone that relies on raw strength.
One corner of his mouth quirks up slightly (always the left side) to give him that boyish appeal. He nods his head slightly in a response to her words, snapping the book shut and gently sets it down on the counter beside him*
Radiology? *She had his curiosity now* Are you a doctor?
*Drew inquires about his adventures and Erek's face suddenly flushes with color, he grows flustered and confused, starting to frown again as he remembers everything that happened. His conversation to Sofie had left him angry earlier that morning when he spoke with great exhilaration about what he had done. The blond kin had seemed disappointed that he hadn't killed anything. Half-heartedly, he tells his story without the exuberance that Drew has seen him express*
Me and some other Garou, a couple of Get, Gwen and Fire Claws, and Asha and Mila, a Fang and Lord, we went into the penumbra and dealt with this huge Mechanical Monstrosity. It looked like a giant tarantula with lazer cannons. It was trapping all these wyrm nasties in its web. Asha got the idea to pull the webbing free to release the wyrm to make it attack the weaver shit. It worked.
*Erek rolls his shoulders back in a small shrug frowning more* I created a diversion when I realized we didn't have time, and distracted the spider. That's about it.
[Drew Roscoe] The Kin laughed and shook her head when he inquired about her career. "No, no, Slaughter's a 'Doc, I'm just an IT gal. I keep the computers running. There's nothing selfless or glorious about what I do." She finished the water in her glass then stashed it away in the dishwasher. "My passion isn't in my job. It's in you guys, the Family, what we all do. This is just to pay for a roof and food."
She turned to lean back against the counter again, resuming the same stance she'd had before. Something they shared was that they were both athletes, or had been at least. They had been involved in drastically different sports, though. For Erek, he looked like he was a baseball or football player. Drew's strength was more apparent in the thick muscles of her legs, in the lean cut of her arms. She wasn't without an ounce of fat, but she was hardly out of shape. She stayed quiet and attentive while he told the story without much enthusiasm about what had gone down last night. Something in the Umbra, a giant mechanical spider, turning it on a pile of Wyrm creatures until they destroyed one another.
She lifted her hands to take her hair out of the loose snare that had it bunched up and tossed over the front of her shoulder, snapping the elastic about her wrist and tossing her hair about with her fingers until it laid loose and natural down her back. She didn't congratulate him on a job well done, it was a part of their life. What she was more worried about was the scowl on his face. It had some of the smile dripping off her own, a slightly more stern flint manifesting in her eyes.
"...Why're you frowning? Who died?" It was as serious a question as any.
[Erek Skulason] *The seriousness in her tone makes Erek drop his eyes from her, too embarrassed to mention it right away. He hesitates, draws in a deep breath as he tries to form the answer in the back of his head. No one had died, it wasn't even glorious if he really thought about it, but the fact they had done what they did, the thrill of victory had the young Get of Fenris wiggling his hips and shaking his tail in a dance*
Aw, fuck. What is it with you girls anyway?
*The words explode out in a fit of teenage angst, his cheeks reddening as he pins a blue-eyed gaze on her. His arms lift up, hands thrown up above his head into the air. He pushes away from the counter, starting to pace the length of the kitchen*
Why's it got to be so damn difficult. It weren't good enough, there wasn't any glory behind it, no one died... I didn't kill nothing and bring home a trophy to drop at her damn feet. And yet she was disappointed... disappointed, Drew!!
*Bare feet come to a halt, pivoting on the balls of his feet to face her as he drops his arms to his sides, hands slapping noisily against his thighs*
All I did was run around like a igit tapping the webs to distract that spider to make sure it didn't go after the others while they unhooked the webbing. I faced it, it was right there only a few inches from me, but... that ain't good enough. I was so excited when we won, when we got them to destroy each other. It was like a victory. I even danced... I hadn't done that since I manage to run the full length of football field to score a touchdown when we were 3 and under last spring!
[Drew Roscoe] Erek's all full of tension and frustration, bubbling under the skin. It shows in his face, in the lines of his body as well. It doesn't take long for it to boil over, though, and soon enough he's half-shouting at her and the walls, pacing back and forth in front of the island counter, throwing his arms around and moving to stop in front of her. He tells a little more of the story in this rant, how he'd provided a distraction, how the webs had been positioned, how many of them there had to be, how close danger had come if it was only a scant few feet in front of his face...
He's yelling like she could have an answer, and she does nothing to stop him. It's safer to let that Rage and frustration out of his system. Safer for the both of them. She's not scowling at him, doesn't appear outraged or afraid. She's not laughing at him either. Her hands are on the counter's edge, elbows pushed out from her sides, and she's still leaned back against the counter but not quite as comfortably as before. She's standing straighter now.
"You know, the last time I checked it's not about the trophies you bring home. It's about what you've accomplished in the end." Her expression isn't stern, but she seems pretty serious about what she's telling him anyways. It shows in how she maintains eye contact, how she doesn't duck her eyes down. This isn't something she does because she's stubborn, but because she's been exposed to enough Rage that she knows precisely when she should be afraid of it and when the ground she walks on is safe. At this moment she knows she has nothing to fear from his claws.
"No one died, and it sounds like that might've well been because you distracted this spider thing. Kept its attention off everyone else, right? Without that, who knows who would've died? I say that's something to be proud of right there." There's a pause, and the bridge of her nose crinkles up in disapproval. "Whoever 'she' is to be disappointed needs her goddamn head checked, because it's nobody's place to be disappointed in that."
[Erek Skulason] *She allows him to blow over, to release the frustration and the tension that had been building since this morning. He couldn't understand what had gone wrong, the sudden change in the other girl's demeanor. He didn't like disappointing people, he had been raised on the praises of family and friends, that performing at his best made them happy, filled him with a sense of pride. Erek feels the tight constriction in his chest as he'd been holding his breath for too long, he lets it out in a sigh. The color draining from his face for a moment, until it's replaced by embarrassment yet again. The realization that he just blew up in front of the woman that was being generous to him*
Ah, shit, Drew, m'sorry. I didn't - shouldn't have yelled at you like this. It's just'a...
*Erek drops his eyes from her, brings his hands up to scrub them over his face, and sliding them up to shove the blond locks of hair off his forehead. He peeks up at her, offering her the smallest of sheepish grins*
She's just some girl I met. Pretty and blond, too much damn breeding that makes my head spin. She's kinda straightforward I guess. Not what I'm used to with kin, they weren't all like that back in the Sept I trained at, hell half of them wouldn't look a Get in the eye.
[Drew Roscoe] "Don't be sorry." There's a faint grin that answers the sheepish smile, and she's smoothing her hands down the sides of her pants, busying them by tugging wrinkles loose and bits of lint free. It could've been a lot worse, he could have put holes in her walls, grabbed her and shaken her, or if the moon was just right (or wrong, depending on how you looked at it) and his frustration running high enough, he could have just seized with the Beast and forced her to fight for her life, draw that heavy pistol out of her drawer and aimed for the eye. That she would've hated the most.
And he's lamenting over some pretty blond girl with a whole lot of breeding, and Drew has her suspicions of who it might be but says nothing. Rather she just shakes her head a bit and glides over to the topic of kin in his home Sept. "And they were Fenrir kin? ..There's a right time to avoid the eye, but to do so all the time doesn't do anything but alienate you guys even more. As for this nameless mystery-woman, there's a difference between being straightforward and being unnecessarily mean. If she's Kin then she has no right in being disappointed in anything you do. So what if you don't have some bloody new wound to be looked after? Like I said, result's the same."
Near the end she seemed to get a bit worked up herself, not flushing red or raising her voice, but frowning lightly and talking a little faster. She doesn't really seem to catch herself like Erek did, either, but instead ends up looking for something to do with her hands, an outlet. She seizes a couple of dirty dishes out of the sink that Erek had left over and rinsed them off, then worked to load them into the dishwasher.
[Erek Skulason] *The way Drew grows flustered catches his attention, it creates a diversion that pulls the young Get of Fenris out of his own slump. The left corner of his mouth starts to crook upward, turning to keep his eyes on her as she moves around the kitchen, searching for something to take her frustrations out on. He trades places with her, slipping by the cabinets that house the glassware, opening and closing doors after retrieving a glass for himself and moves on to the fridge to fetch a glass of water. All along, Erek keeps his gaze on her, trying to read her body language, hoping that whatever the boy can gleen from Drew would offer some incite into the mysterious world of womanhood*
Most of the kin I've met were like that, the Get didn't really associate with them unless we needed to, or they were life mates or family. It was a bit rural I guess, up in the more forested area of Wisconsin just near the Great Lakes. M'uncle Skúli wouldn't let me near the kin, kept me on track with my training and making sure I recovered from my illness.
*It was the first time he had really opened up to a person that he'd just recently met. He folds his arms across his chest, shoulder braced against the door of the fridge and holds the glass to his mouth, sipping from it in-between words. He angles his head to the side, causing blond hair to fall across his forehead and into his eyes*
She ain't as nice as you are, Drew. Sofie that is, that's her name. She's cold and frigid, whereas your warm and homey, least you remind me of home. Though, I can't remember anything about it.
[Drew Roscoe] She isn't slamming the dishes around, the Kin's not in a Rage. She's just frustrated in her own ways, at her own points of anger. There were only three dishes left, they were in the dishwasher by the time Erek was leaning against the fridge door and looking over at her with his head tipped to one side, hair casting itself across his forehead. She's not leaning against anything at this point, but standing in the center of the kitchen, listening to his story, then his comparing her to-- Sofie. She'd guessed right.
"Thomas's Sept they wouldn't let you even consider a mate 'till you hit Fostern. To prove you could take care of yourself before you got the responsibility of a Kin." She's got a half-smile, a sort of sad look to accompany it, and is moving on, wiping her hands on the thighs of her slacks to dry them of the water she'd rinsed his dirty dishes with. "Sofie's... Impertinent. That's a good word for it. Only words I've had directed at me from her mouth was an off-handed bit of snide when I was walkin' out the door. If she's any better than that? She failed to show on the first impression."
The huff is half-indignant, a fine show of frustration. She didn't understand why her peers had to continue rubbing her the wrong way. What happened to the days when people like Lonna and Gina were to be heard of and found instead of these guys?
The topic shifts gears, and she's eyeballing the hair on his forehead once more. "Most other Garou I've met keep their hair a lot shorter than that. Doesn't it get grabbed in a fight?"
[Erek Skulason] *Erek laughs then, not at her, but at her question about his hair. He rolls his eyes up, crossing them towards his nose as he stares at a blond strand. He straightens up, cheeks flushed with color as he runs a hand through his hair, trying to push it out of his eyes. It's a bit of a fight as it just wants to lay back down across his forehead again*
I'm used to it, makes me look prettier than a queue ball.
*He shrugs his shoulders, dropping his hand from his face and finishes off the water, turning towards the fridge again to refill his glass. He thinks about what she said, eyebrows dancing up and down over his strong features set into a thoughtful frown. Erek resumes his stance once again, watching her*
I've seen Garou with longer hair than mine, they wear it down to their asses and decorate it up in little plaits and thick braids. Skúli did that a lot. I saw him damn near choke a man to death with his braid once, he wore metal tubes on it that I thought were just decoration, enough force behind it and he crushed a guy's windpipe. I could see the advantage of not having hair, but then again, I don't let anyone near my head when I'm in a fight.
[Drew Roscoe] She chuckled a bit at his 'prettier than a cue ball comment, shaking her head but not commenting. She really couldn't defend the choice of hairstyles that her Boys kept, and she wouldn't try. She just understood the functionality of shorter hair, hadn't seen too many male Garou that left their scalps covered with more than an inch or two of growth. To each their own, she supposed.
He went on to talk about how his uncle used his hair as a weapon, and this has Drew lifting her eyebrows in interest and surprise both. "Really, now? That's kind of crazy." She brushes her fingers through her hair, an idle gesture that took the snags out, smoothed it back from her forehead as he did, but hers had more than enough weight to stay back on its own. "Makes sense, I guess. From what I've seen there aren't a lot of bald War Bodies anyways. It's all the same pelt when you've got your claws and fangs out, right?"
She hadn't seen every Garou she's ever met in Crinos, so she couldn't say this indefinitely, but she'd seen plenty of them close enough to see that for the most part facial features were those of a wolf rather than those of a man. There was a lot more death on those faces than something flat and soft like her's could carry.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek twirls his index finger in a circle an inch from the left temple, flashing her a wide smile that was all teeth and split his face in half. He chuckles, the sound vibrating up from the depths of his diaphragm to rumble in his throat. His voice was settling, but still tried to issue a squeak every so often, forcing him to clear it. Erek pushed off the fridge, still drinking from the glass of water as he walks over to the dishwasher, head tilted back to drain that last of the liquid*
Skúli was all kinds of crazy, he's got voices that constantly speak inside his head. He's always glassy-eyed and doped up on some kind of herb that frees himself from the chains of his mortal body as he likes to put it. I never understood any of it, not when he had dead people talking through him. It was pretty scary if I think back on it.
*He sets the glass inside the dishwasher, turning to bump the door shut with his hip and looks at her. He reaches out to pluck up the closed book that he set on the counter and tucks it under his arm, regarding her with a raised eyebrow*
You know if you need me to do anything around here you could leave me a note or something.
[Drew Roscoe] Her eyes trail after him when he passes in front of her, moving from fridge to dishwasher and tucking the glass away. He speaks of his uncle, of how he smokes some kind of dope-herb to 'escape from the confines of his body'. She managed to suppress a snort of skepticism out of respect for how ranked this guy had to be, what he had to mean to Erek to be his mentor. His communicating with the dead didn't strike Drew as particularly creepy or surprising, though. She knew a young man that channeled the ancestors almost as frequently as his own mind was at the front.
Erek retrieves the book he'd been reading, but pauses to regard her. She looks right back, like she's partly puzzled by his stopping, inviting him to say whatever he had on his mind with an upward flick of her eyebrows and the same warm, open air that she always seemed to keep about her. She'd be a difficult person to keep secrets from, she's too easy to talk to, to tell everything to. That could easily be dangerous one day.
"Well, there's not much to be done. I only just moved in, the place was fixed up for renting before I even got in here." She shrugged and gestured toward the front of the house with the vague sweep of one hand. "There's no yard work 'cause it's all buried under a good five inches of snow still. No leaks, no cracks in the walls, and most of those I could fix on my own anyways." There's a shake of her head to solidify what she was telling him. "You do enough going out on your patrols like I see you do, keeping the Wyrm in check like you did last night. That's more than enough."
[Erek Skulason] *It doesn't seem to be enough for him to just accept what she says, that he didn't need to do anything. Some ingrained need to be of use around the house, to perform chores of the most mundane tasks felt right, it felt normal. Something that he sorely missed most days, the littlest of mundane things. Erek sighs, his shoulders rolling forward as he looks around, trying to grasp for words or a visual of anything that might have a fault in it that he could tinker with. She mentions the five inches of snow out front and he seems to snap to life, lifting a hand to point at the direction of the front door*
I could shovel the snow for you. I mean I can't let you do it by yourself, you've got to be tired after performing all those radiology things that you do. Shit, I'll take the damn trash out if I could find any, or just make a mess to give me something to clean up.
*He offers her a cheeky grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief as Erek promptly changes his expression to a give Drew the saddest puppy dog eyes the boy could muster. Mixed with the blond hair falling into his eyes, and his boyish charms he was cute*
Should I beg for some menial task to perform? I could if you want me to? *As quick as Erek was, it didn't take much to drop down to the floor on his knees in front of the small kin, hands pulling the book from under his arm to clasp it between his hands as he held it up to her, trying as he could to make her laugh*
[Gina McClaren] *The doorbell rings shrilly through the house. Gina McClaren having been chased off by a strange fenrir last time she and Dew got drunk together, it would seem the pretty pikey is here for a do over. Tattered leather satchel hanging heavy at her hip, laden with a bottle of Jack. Half gone. Lets just say the pikey's picked up a habit or two while in Italy. She leans an ample hip on the doorway, watching frost dance under the porchlight well above her head.*
[Drew Roscoe] Drew's eyes widen some in surprise when things flip about and the teenaged werewolf is dropping his knees heavily to the tile floor and scooting forward in front of her, holding the book out toward her like she was a priest and he was a repenting young man, clutching the bible as though to prove how much he meant to abide by it.
It was ridiculous enough for a broad smile to crack across her face, but it's dampened when she squashes it away to play along. She looks to the left, then sweeps an empty stainless steel container that reads 'coffee' on the side of it and lets it clang noisily onto the floor, rolling a short distance to come to a stop against the bottom of the counter length by her ankles. She switches her gaze back to him, wide-eyed and expectant.
...Then bursts into laughter and shakes her head, kneeling down to retrieve the empty coffee container. "Alright. You can take the trash out to the curb and shovel the driveway and sidewalks when it snows. Nothing to do today, but--"
Diiiiiing-doooong
Drew glances up, as though surprised that she'd have a visitor. "Huh, wonder who...," and rises, patting Erek affectionately and thoughtlessly enough on the head as she passes by him to go answer the door, heels that she's yet to remove clacking on the hardwood as she went.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek watches her with a curious flick of an eyebrow, he remains poised in that knelt position looking up at the small kin in her high heels. He tilts his head to the side, much like a dog would watching its master, blue eyes dart to the coffee can, focused on it as Drew reached for it and promptly drops it on the floor. His head dips down, following it with his eyes. Muscle coil up under his shirt, pulling it tightly across his back as the young Get of Fenris was about to go pick it up when Drew looks at him expectantly, and then bursts into laughter, making him pause*
Done deal then.
*Erek chuckles, and promptly freezes in place when the door bell rang. His nose twitches, head tilting up to sniff the air as his eyes slide to the side. Erek rolls his eyes at Drew as she affectionately pats him on the head and goes to answer the door. He rolls back on his bare feet, erecting up to his full height of five feet and ten inches, and starts to dog after her*
[Gina McClaren] *Drew's met with a familiar grin, all trouble and warmth as the little caramel woman at the door is quick to wrap her in a one armed hug. Fingers cold on the Fenrir kin's arm, she chimes in a voice just short of magnificent - and incomprehensible.*
Allo Allo! Glad yer home darlin, ah'm here wi a bit o a belly warmer fer us both! Ye free?
*Strider kin entering the house as though more than certain she's ever-invited. A ridiculous length of long brown hair shaken from beneath a shawl, clumsily bound off the diminutive kin's neck with one hand as the other flaps the garment towards Drew.*
Thes es fer ye tae. Ah -
*Lovely voice trailing off as she realizes they're not alone, kohl rimmed eyes falling on Erek sharply. A moment passes, buxom kin frozen in place warily.*
[Drew Roscoe] Erek follows her toward the door, some part curious and no doubt another part protective.. or territorial, however you wanted to look at it. This was Drew's home, he was a guest in it, but using the bed a couple of times and sharing a few meals with the Kin made it feel more like home for him, which appealed to the territorial part of the wolf mind. Drew opened up the door to reveal a Kinfolk with the whistle of road-wind in her blood and the kinds of curves that rappers rapped about. Drew's face lit up, and she exclaimed happily: "Gina!" and answered the one armed hug in kind.
The Strider Kin bustled into the house, unwrapping the shawl from about her neck and tossing it toward Drew. The Fenrir Kin caught it readily enough, examining the fabric curiously, but looked up when the curiously beautiful, lilting voice that couldn't be thrown off even by the strong and brusque accent in which she spoke, cut off. She looked curious, surprised, but when her eyes hopped between Erek and Gina's faces, realization sunk in. She put a hand on Gina's shoulder and squeezed, smiling happily.
"Gina, this is Erek. Ragabash of my tribe, new in town. He's staying here for now, couldn't let him out on the streets, you know? He's alright." And, to Erek. "This's Gina McClaren. Best damn Kin you can find in this part of the world."
And Drew's eyes fall on the bottle in Gina's hand, her smile turns to a grin, and she's tisking with plenty exaggeration. "You know it's only, like, two thirty in the afternoon?" When has that stopped the girls from unwinding, though?
[Erek Skulason] *The pair of women seemed to intimate friends from the impression he got by the way they hugged and cheerily greet each other. It leaves Erek to feel more like a stranger in Drew's home than something that actually belonged there, like the furniture. He runs a hand over his mouth, rubbing long fingers across the golden fuzz of beard growth that tries to form on the strong, masculine lines of his jaw and chin. Blue eyes peering at Gina searchingly when he can see her tense up. The boy that towered over the pair, nearly resembles the very visual aspect you'd think one of his tribe might represent. Even if they couldn't sense the purity of his viking's blood, Erek wore the face of a dead hero, carried the mannerisms of his great-grandmother, and was as much a warrior as his grandfather had ever been, which left some big paws to fill*
Hello... Gina.
*He is apprehensive at first, cheeks flushing with color the more he takes the small kinfolk in, her accent playing tricks on his ears as he tries to make it out, blinking several times. They can start to hear his voice crack as puberty hadn't quite settled in yet, and he was feeling all sorts of giddy*
[Gina McClaren] *A garou yes, but as easily read as a book. Young. Inexperienced. Ill at ease. Gina shakes her arms and head as though throwing off a bad vibe, and replaces the startled glare that had recently become her default for dealing with strangers. A smile, easy and welcoming as a fire after a snow day is offered to the glorious Get. *
Allo Erek Darlin.
*An offhand gesture to Drew, grin getting cheeky.*
Dinnae lesten tae a word thes harlot tells ye. M' jest nae as bad as tha town likes tae paint me. An as fer drenken en the afternoon...
*A finger points to the Fenrir kin as Gina sashays to the nearest chair and throws herself into it, hair falling around her like a curtain half a second later.*
Ye should consider et! Makes dealin wi' ragey relatives easier!
[Drew Roscoe] Gina's surprised glare is washed away, replaced by the kind of smile and attitude that she filled rooms with before things turned so dark for her. Drew just grins brightly, half-defensively when Gina warns Erek not to listen to a word that his Kin tells him about her, and glances back down to the shawl in her hands, rubbing her fingers over the weave of bright, bold coloring in pretty cool-toned colors. The shawl is hung up on the hook beside her jacket, and she looks back to Gina, folding her arms comfortably over her chest and smiling warmly to see the other Kin so at home, at ease, even in the presence of an unfamiliar Garou.
"Ragey?" She lifts her eyebrows, then pushes air past her lips in a sound of dismiss. "That's no bother, I sat crammed in a truck cab with Thomas and Joe for a good forty-five minutes on the bumpiest, slickest drive of my life. You know Thomas's a nervous rider? Kept trying to seize the steering wheel out of my hands." She lifts a finger to wag it at Gina, emphasizing her point. "That was an excess of ragey."
There's a beat, and she cracks more of a grin once more. "Nothing saying that there's anything wrong with an unwinder, I suppose. I'm not due anywhere 'til tomorrow morning anyways." She looked to Erek, eyed the flush of pink to his cheeks and ears, and chuckled. "You look like you could use it, almost."
[Erek Skulason] But I'm not that rage-y? Am I?
*Young and inexperienced to a fault, but makes up for it with his wit and charm. He blinks, the hand under his chin working the fingers over the jaw muscles, feeling the tiny hairs coating it tickle his palm. He snorts softly at Gina, the left corner of his mouth quirking upward into a devilish grin as she greets him. His curiosity is piqued; Drew mentions a Joe and a Thomas, others that must have been close to the kin of his tribe, but do not live here now. He hadn't smelled another's scent when he came to this place, the scents were too barren, too fresh, like Drew hadn't called this place home for long*
I'll have you know... *Erek clears his throat, mocking a feigned shocked expression* That I am not as rage-filled as most of my ilk. I'm sorely offended. *He pretends to sniffle, pulling the hand from his jaw to curls the fingers shut and wipe a fake tear from his eyes* It hurts my feminine sensibilities, ladies.
[Gina McClaren] OCh jaysus...
*Bawls the strider kin raucously, smoothing a hand across her tank top as she shakes her head and smirks at Drew's retelling of her glorious road trip. She can only imagine. A bittersweet quirk of lips. The old guard, where were they all now? Dead or gone. Dark eyes slide toward Erek's fresh face, a shadow of worry flitting across exotic features, glance passed along to Drew.
Then Erek is playing at being the martyr, and Gina can't help but give him the benefit of a laugh. Digging in her purse to draw out the bottle of whiskey, and showcasing it like a gameshow prize.*
Put yer beg girl panties on, rotogar. We're nae weepin' women en thes house. "ave a bit o Jack wi' oos?
[Drew Roscoe] If he'd put on his wolf skin at all while Drew was out to better investigate the home, he'd find it precisely as barren as he'd expect. The couches have been wiped clean of whatever had been on them, that was the glory of leather. Even still, the scents left rubbed in were so old and faded and mashed together that it was impossible to pull anything from them. The corners of the house, the floors, the appliances... everything was clean and stark. His own bedding had been rarely used, and washed thoroughly before being put onto the mattress in the first place. He didn't go up into her room to check it out, that was too much an invasion of privacy just yet.
Erek and Gina play back and forth with words, and Drew just laughs along with them, shaking her head before walking forward to meet Gina at the chair. She was right, these two Kin were among the most weathered in the city. They've outlasted many other Kin, many Garou as well. Chicago had tried to chew them up before, and they still stood, able to smile and joke and enjoy a drink together and invite someone new in on the festivities as well. They were proof that the city couldn't conquer everyone.
"I'll mix us something up. Feel free to the media, Gina. Got the radio hooked up since you've been gone, and the television too-- just in time to watch the Bears lose but, hey, what can you do?" She shrugged and grinned and stuck out a hand for the bottle that Gina was showing like it were a letter and she was Vanna White.
[Erek Skulason] *Erek brings both his hands up to cup his cheeks, blue eyes widening in mock surprise as Gina showcases the bottle of whiskey and tells the young Get of Fenris to man up in her own sweet-voiced way. He can't contain himself, head flung back to bark out in raucous laughter that echoes through the living room*
You luscious caramel temptress, Miss Gina, you do realize I'm a bit underage for that? You'll be enabling a teenager to drink, how can you live with that notion?
*He is openly teasing Gina, testing the boundaries to how far her sense of humor will extend. Erek folds his arms across his chest, hands tucked under his arms, palms flat over his ribcage as he watches the two women. He had to guess that they were both older than him, by how much he wasn't sure and wouldn't dare ask for fear of getting kicked in the shin. It was rude to ask a woman her age, this he figured out first hand*
Tsk... *Erek clucks his tongue at Drew, the grin playing across his features once again. He drops his arms from his chest, moving over to claim a seat on one end of the couch, trying to find an angle that will comfortably allow him to watch Gina*
[Gina McClaren] Three glasses? Ah've come entae a bit o money, ah can buy us chink food effen we're tae drunk tae cook.
*Cold glass slaps flatly into Drew's palm, Gina kicking off her boots with twin klunks beside her chair. Long gypsy skirt falling away from socked ankles as the diminutive pikey props small feet up on the arm of Drew's furniture. Comfortable as can be, if only by conscious decision not to be less so. Drew and Gina both barely in their twenties, and yet a year or two in Chicago had weathered them. Wizened them, and at least in Gina's case, left a heart a little more jaded and mistrusting. It was an effort for women who cared so much to play at being carefree. Her head lolls against the opposite arm of the chair, voice singsonging teasingly.*
Ask aboot town darlin, ah'm a corruptin influence. Anyhow, yer nae mooch o a Viking effen ye cannae hold yer drenk, are ye? Effen ye let tae wee lassies ootdrenk ye?
*A bounce of eyebrows to both get in turn, challenge in brown eyes.*
[Drew Roscoe] "Way I look at it, Erek, is if you're old enough to be out doing the things you did last night? You're old enough to be properly introduced to Jack." She says this as the bottle's slapped into her palm, and she takes it both by cupping her hand at the bottom of the bottle and wrapping the other about the neck, smiling at Gina and bumping her hip into the other Kin's leg as she passed by the chair she was taking up to go into the kitchen and go about making drinks.
"How old are you, anyway?" This is to Erek, sheer curiosity with no ounce of judgment flavoring the question. She's setting out three glasses and taking a bottle of Coca Cola out of the back of the fridge and mixing three very simple cups of Coke and Jack. A little on the stronger side, because while she weathered the storm that was Chicago and all its heartbreak and came out pretty intact, she did like her drinks a bit heavier now because of it. The faster she could feel warm and carefree the better.
And, for Gina. "Where'd you come into money from?" The slur thrown into the mention of take-out Chinese food is ignored or not noticed. Spending as much time with a heavyhanded racist as she did, hear ears had grown numb to such things.
[Erek Skulason] *Gina's voice tickles at his ears, perking Erek's interest. He has never heard a voice quite like hers before, nor had he ever met a real gypsy. They were the stuff of fantasy and movies, or roleplaying games, much could be said the same about werewolves. She tosses a challenge at him that bruises his male ego, and riles the young Get of Fenris slightly to thinking about accepting it. His head dips down, leaning his upper body forward as shoulders hunch. He digs his elbows into his knees, hands cupping under his chin, he steeples his fingers together to tap them against his nose*
I'm eighteen, I think?
*He calls to Drew from the main room, never taking his eyes off the little gypsy kin, he was waiting for her to do something fantastical. All sorts of things racing through his mind as he wondered what she was about*
So, Miss Gina, do you read fortunes and put curses on men that cheat on their wives. You that sort of gypsy?
[Gina McClaren] Where'd ah gie the money? Where ye thenk ah gaw the money!?
*Bawdy laughter, Gina prodding the Get kin with her socked foot, before hollering after her into the kitchen, shoulders arching off the chair as she bellows -*
Ah stole et darlin! Cannae exactly shake me tuppeny bets fer coin en thes weather, sae tha leaves theivin' an whorin.
*Erek's question about fortune telling earns him a wink, as she explains with mock gravity.*
Och, tha's recht, aul o et. Sae mind yer P's n' Q's, oor ah'll throw a curse on ye. Put ye straight back before puberty.
[Drew Roscoe] "Oh." Her answer's as simple as that, for Gina at least. She knew the gypsy to be a pickpocketer, she didn't question her ways or motives or morals. Just so long as she wasn't taking from Drew or her friends then she was just fine with it. Besides, a the people who could afford to carry cash around in their wallets could afford to lose it, if you asked Drew.
She moved back into the living room, balancing two glasses in one palm while holding the other with her other hand, and handed one to Gina first, then to Erek, and sat herself down on the other side of the couch from the Rotagar. She kicked off those deep purple high heeled shoes and tucked them under the coffee table so that they wouldn't get tripped over, then leaned back into the corner of the couch and took a sip of the belly-warming drink. She's grinning over her glass at Gina and shaking her head. She couldn't curse, but she wouldn't tell Erek that. Rather...
"How do you 'think'? Do you even know what month you were born in? Or did you take a heavy hit to the head a while back?"
Eighteen. That's how old Joe'd be.
[Erek Skulason] *Someone was pulling his leg, Ere wasn't sure if it was Gina or Drew, but the pair of kin were doing a fine job of setting the young Get of Fenris on edge. His uncle had warned him about the wily ways of women, how they'd mess with his head if he didn't keep it on straight. Erek snorts, thinking back to what his uncle had said, wondered what he would perceive of the two women in the room. His eyes dance back and forth, content to keep his slouched over posture to watch them interact. Much could be garnered from his quiet surveillance*
No, I can't remember what month I was born in, I can't remember anything past the day I first took shape as a werewolf. Skúli thinks my memories were misplaced for a reason, that I'm not meant to have those reminders of the life I lived before. I don't even know who my mother and father are, there names or where I was born.
*Drew had set the drink down in front of him, he left it untouched for the most part, dropping his gaze down to stare at it. He reached for it, hefting it up to his nose to sniff at it. The bittersweet taste almost makes him sneeze, cautiously he sips at it, his face skewering up as he's never experienced real alcohol before*
It's all blank.
[Gina McClaren] Och Peaches....
*The chair squeaks as Gina's drawn to a sitting position, dark brows furrowing as she looks at Erek anew. How terribly sad, to see a young man whose life would begin and end in war. tawny hands weaving through the air in accompaniment to her words.*
.. Darlin, tha's terrible. Ye dinnae remember any o et?
*A glance to Drew over her glass as she tips the booze to her lips. She couldn't think of anything less fair, and its clear from her pinched expression. A huff of resignation, before the Strider kin lifts her chin and singsongs.*
Well. Fookit. Aul tha moore reason fer ye tae live life tae tha very fookin fullest now? Aye Erek?
[Drew Roscoe] Drew's mouth presses into a sympathetic slash of a line, and she draws her legs up onto the sofa, curling them to the side of her body so her bare feet are tucked close to her rear, kept warm there. The house was small and cozy, but the floors were drafty, it wasn't perfect, nor was it top notch. It was what she could afford in the belly of Chicago's metropolis. ...No, that was a lie. She could afford a ritzy apartment with two bedrooms and one bathroom and modern appliances and plush carpet and reliable heat and cooling...
...but it would be an apartment. She needed privacy, four walls without ears pressed in on either side, room enough to lay out a full grown Crinos if the need arose. With her ties, her family all being a bunch of Monsters that tended to roar and shout and scream and bleed everywhere, she needed an actual house. The hardwoods were a preference because of a memory of a massive blood stain in her apartment, and how she'd struggled and worked for days to cover the stain up. It was lifted from the carpet, but if anyone were to lift it they'd find a shocking surprise on the floorboards of a bloodstain roughly the size of a small trampoline.
"Well... I understand it's a pretty traumatic thing to go through." Another sip from her drink, and she's smiling faintly at the look on his face at what has to be his first taste of alcohol in a long time. It was nearly precious. "How long ago was that for you? Just a handful of years, I'd imagine?"
There's a pause, and she's rolling her head, stretching her neck to glance out the front window at the faint drift of snow that was starting to make its way down. It was hard to tell if it was actually snowing or if the wind was just shaking what was stuck to the tree branches loose into her yard. "Well, what's your favorite time of year?"
[Erek Skulason] *Peaches, Gina calls him that. Her voice strings together like a purr of words that is delightful and surreal all at once. It makes him a little hungry now as he is thinking of fruit, which equates into food. The alcohol he sips burns in his throat, running down into the pit of his stomach. He drains all of it, coughing once with a furrow of eyebrows and sets the empty glass down
Sometime in the spring, I don't remember if it was last year or the year before that. Skúli says I'm a quick learner. I pick up on things well, said I took after my great-grandmother quite a bit.
*He settles back into the cushions, tilting his head back as his eyes slide about the room, first to Drew and then to Gina. He offers the women a small smirk, chuckling*
Winter is my favorite time of year. The world turns white and is covered in ice. It's when the Snow Queen comes out to earth to visit her kingdom of Ice and Snow.
[Gina McClaren] Och, ye would like the winter blondie. Ye've a body like a fookin coal furnace.
*The last of her drink downed with nary a grimace, pikey shaking her hair back from her face and waving her feet in the chill of Drew's little home. It reminded the kin of a place she once had in bronzeville. Before the garou nation decided to explode all over it in a flurry of cannibalism and arson. Lips press thin at the memory, her glass brought to her lips again, only to be discovered empty. The pikey sighs and sets it on the hardwood.*
Tha's why we kin love ye sae. Ye keep oos warm , aye?
[Erek Skulason] *Erek was unsure if Gina's cynicism was leaking through her demeanor or not, his eyebrows shoot upward at her comment, regarding the little gypsy with a half-smirk. He digs his elbows into the couch, pushing himself upright and leans forward again to rest his elbows on his legs. His movements were fluid and agile, the muscles dancing under the bare skin of his arms uncovered by the short-sleeved shirt*
If I had more rage, I would blister hotter than a thousand suns, Miss Gina, it would be more than enough heat to melt you all over, my charming little nightingale.
[Drew Roscoe] "She's got a pretty good point." Drew's smile has yet to be chased completely from her face, it's an everlasting presence tonight, soft sometimes, sad once, mischievous others. They've both downed their drinks, Gina and Erek, and Drew hasn't even cut through half of hers yet. She's taking her time, sipping rather than chugging, enjoying rather than pushing through for the effect the beverage will have.
"Well, we'll have to make you up a birthday then. Sometime in the winter. December's a great month to have been born in." The smile brightens, and she taps an ice cube in her drink with her fingernail, looking between the two's empty glasses for a second before informing them:
"You guys are welcome to refills, of course. Or anything else in the kitchen. Don't expect me to get up every time you run out." She's got the warm touch of humor and kindliness to her voice, but the words are honest. She wasn't obligated to play hostess with either of them, she was too familiar with the both to push being polite and having exceptional manners for the sake of a good impression. Erek was sleeping in the bed downstairs and leaving dishes in the sink, Gina was sprawled out on the plush loveseat like she had been there for years.
Erek, with his last comment, gets a bit of a good-natured warning, but a warning nonetheless. "Easy, tiger."
[Erek Skulason] *The smile he pours on for Drew comes to easily, his voice drops to a husky rumble as he leans back against the cushions once again, flopping over to the side to catch himself with his arm and use it as a prop. It closes the distance between them as he sprawls across the middle of the couch to reach her, but he doesn't stretch a hand out to touch the kin of his tribe*
She started it...
*He purrs innocently at Drew, batting his eyelashes, the corners of his mouth peeling back into a devilish grin that is too full of teeth and splits his face in half. A trickster's grin*
[Gina McClaren] *Drew protests, and Gina smirks. She knew all too well she'd be getting her own drinks. It was a freeforall once the first shot was out of the way. This standard procedure from the merry days when Gina, Lonna, and Drew had converged on each other's homes to get drunk and toast to their exploits in the Nation. Gina and Lonna would laugh and banter about sexy tidbits about the prowess of their current lovers or love interests (often separate, those two.) - and Drew would regale them with rough and tumble tales of "her boys".
How things had changed.
The little brown woman feigns innocence, looking between Erek and Drew as though entirely shocked at the turn of conversation.*
Ah ded nae sooch theng!
*Its her tone thats pure devilry wrapped in chocolate, eyes laughing despite her shocked expression. *
Noow darlin Fenrir, ah'm nae enterested en rubbin against a felly wha's blisterin'. Nae lass es.
[Drew Roscoe] Erek, apparently, hasn't been formally introduced to liquor before. Admittedly this was partly Drew's own fault, she made the drinks stronger than typical, but she figured that if the boy had passed his Rite of Passage then he knew a thing or two about holding his liquor. But he was the one that slammed the drink and let it swim directly to his head. He leaned toward Gina, and when Drew spoke up he sprawled his way across the couch until his nose was a scant inch or two from her knees.
She smiled at him while he purred at her and batted his eyelashes and smiled a crescent moon smile that was too close to baring teeth. A hand went out to smooth the hair from his brow, then returned to her glass (presuming it wasn't stopped on the way back home).
"I'm thinking maybe we should get something in your stomach to cushion the alcohol if you're going to keep going, Erek. Or a glass of water at least."
Completely ignoring the 'who started what' track.
[Erek Skulason] Then it's a good thing, Miss Gina, that I'm smooth like a well-oiled machine without a blister to show for it.
*Erek quips; catching on Gina's devilry without a bat of an eyelash. His body shakes with quiet laughter, something he tries to contain, but is having a hard time doing so. Drew catches the young Get of Fenris off guard with her gesture, her hand smoothed back the tousle of blond hair that keeps finding its way into his eyes. He goes quiet as she does this, tensing his body to remain still, half-wondering if she'll do it again*
You cluck after me like a mother hen, Drew.
*It was true, though, in the short span of a few days that he's known her. He doesn't argue with her about the lack of food in his system, nor does he correct her that he could likely hold his liquor better than either woman in the room. He seems to enjoy the attention, playing up the innocent act as best he can*
[Gina McClaren] Part o' tha job descreption... Goes wi' bein kin.
*Singsongs Gina. rising from her seat to pad barefoot into the kitchen. She'd lost her socks somewhere between amnesia and blisters, baring brown toes with shiny turquoise nails. B-lining towards Drew's pantry to scrounge some crackers, a box of cereal getting a good looking over before it too is tucked under her arm. Jack nabbed by the neck and hauled along for the ride as the pikey does the loop, headed back towards the Get.*
Mother's, sister's, daughter's ... lovers...
*A considering glance to Drew and the blue eyed Rotogar. Gina's smile falling quietly fond.*
Meant tae be et aul, one time oor another. Here. Line yer guts wi' thes.
*Cereal tossed overhand to the young no-moon.*
[Drew Roscoe] Erek states without really complaining that Drew fussed over him, and Gina said all that needed to be said on that topic. Drew just nodded along with the Pikey's words and finished what was in her glass before leaning forward to set it on the coffee table, not concerning herself with finding a coaster. There've been much worse things on that table and it's all washed off before, a ring from a glass's condensation wasn't anything to worry about.
A cereal box is tossed toward Erek, and Drew's leaning back into the couch again, tugging at the cuffs of her pants so they covered her ankles a little better.
"She's precisely right, you know. And I suppose I've got a personal investment out of this-- I don't have to worry about you throwing up in my house and missing the toilet this way." Her grin is easy, humored, and dismissive of the fact that he was exactly right about her clucking after him. She would, in her own ways. She wouldn't worry about him being out, she wouldn't fret over him getting into fights or returning bloodied up. She would just make sure he's got food and water and sterilize his wounds, cover them up so he didn't bleed everywhere, and let him heal at his own pace.
Family's family, and she'd care after any one of them that needed it, even if she found herself not liking them. It was Duty, after all.
[Erek Skulason] Your whiskey is bitter, sharp.
*Erek comments, eventually pushing himself back up as Gina disappears into the kitchen to forage for food. He sits upright, his eyes snapping to the small gypsy upon her return to the living room. The box of cereal thrown his way, he is quick to catch it, hands shooting up into the air, stretched out at arm's length to clap around the box. He pulls it back to him, setting it on his thigh, and runs a thumb along the cardboard edge to flip the tab open*
Mead, fair maidens, is the meat and drink of the Vikings, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Honeyed-wine is rather nice, carries a better flavor than whiskey, I don't think it's as dry. Haven't been so deep into my cups since last...
*a hesitant pause, a hand diving into the box of cereal to scoop up a palmful and carefully holds it to his mouth, shoving it all in. Erek is not so eloquent when it came to eating with his hands, cereal manages to escape onto the couch and partially falls back into the box*
Last solstice.
[Gina McClaren] *Skirts rustle as Gina sinks back into her seat, an arm streeetched towards the other brunette in offering of Cheesy Crackers.*
Hmm.
*The tawny hand holding snacks aloft bobs as the strider kin is caught in a yawn, elbow of the opposite arm coming to shield her open mouth.*
Fook me. Late nechts are kellen me.
[Drew Roscoe] Drew shakes her head, turning down the offer of cheesy snack crackers. She didn't actually like them that much, she went shopping when she was hungry like a fool and bought a few extra boxes of snack food that sounded amazing at the time, but she realized she wasn't too fond of when she wasn't ravenous. Gina could have at those cheesy crackers all she pleased.
Drew eyeballed Erek as he let crumbs fall back into the box and made a note of which cereal he was munching on, then straightened up and stretched out her shoulders some before leaning forward, planting her now bare feet (no nail polish on those toes, not for the moment) on the floor and stretching across the coffee table to snag up the bottle of Jack and pour it straight over the ice cubes left in her cup. She didn't fill the glass up, only enough to surround the ice cubes, and leaned back once more to take a small sip that had her making a little bit of a face before relaxing again.
"Well they don't exactly sell this Mead stuff at the local grocer, so you find me one of your Godi spirit-brewers and I'll hook you up gladly." She grins at the Rotagar, then switches her attention to the pikey. "If you need a nap, Gina, you're welcome to my bed upstairs? We'll hold up the party 'till you're rested, I swear."
[Erek Skulason] Then it's settled, Miss Gina. You're staying here. I and I'm sure Drew, won't accept a refusal.
*Spoken around a mouthful of dry cereal as Erek's hand continues to plunge into the depths of the box, scooping out more of its contents by the second. He gets about four to six handfuls shoved into his mouth, and partially chewed and swallowed before losing interest in the box. He sets it down next to the empty glass, dusting the crumbs from his mouth and his lap with little regard to them falling on the floor*
Do you have a place she can stay, Drew? I can give up my bed for the night if not, I don't mind passing out on the floor, or the couch. Hell I may go out in search of trouble in a little bit.
[Gina McClaren] We're lasses darlin. We curl oop en the same bed, n'giggle tell we fall asleep.
*She teases, rising to her feet again and setting the box of crackers down beside the rotogar. If he were anything like Delmar, he could eat a body's entire pantry and still have a hankering for more. Fucking garou metabolisms. A gentle ruffle of Erek's hair, fingers finding the places that are like to itch, and giving them a good scratching. Gesture intimate as an old friend. A wink to Drew.*
Aulrecht, ah'm gintae sleep fer a few minutes, gi' me soome gusto fer tha walk home. Dinnae party tae hard wi' oot me, aye?
*A wag of her finger, before the pikey is sashaying towards the stairs for a quick nap.*
[Drew Roscoe] Gina jests about she and Drew curling up together in the same bed and falling asleep, no doubt to tease the imagination of the Rotagar. Drew had no troubles sharing a bed with Gina, it was true, but it wasn't nearly as intimate as the teenage boy's imagination would lead him to believe. She pauses to scratch lightly at Erek's scalp for a second, bats a wink toward Drew, which the Fenrir Kin answers with a bright, beaming grin, and the Pikey is making her way to the back of the house to ascend the staircase into Drew's room, which took up the entire (scant) area of the second story of the house.
Erek set his cereal box back down, and Drew sipped a little more at her drink, letting the sound of Gina's bare feet padding up the staircase soften up into the quiet that settled between herself and the Rotagar. A few seconds pass, and Drew adjusts how she's sitting, shifting her legs so that they're folded to the opposite side now, making sure no one leg ends up getting squished longer than the other, so that way she doesn't end up with a dead foot.
She breaks the silence easy enough, casually and with the kind of fluid flow to conversation that paid tribute to how easy she was to keep company with. "So, up until the sun fades off the horizon and you're gone searching for the things that bump in the night... What would you like to do? I could put you to work helping me unpack the last few boxes, or we could veg out."
[Erek Skulason] Maybe when you're about six shots into falling over your panties coiled around your ankles.
*Erek snorts at Gina when she tousled his hair, the smile never leaving his face as he peers up at her. It makes him shake his head a little; blue eyes follow the sway of the little gypsy's curve out of habit, he was young and male after all. There is a look of appreciation expressed in his eyes, but he doesn't vocalize it or make crude remarks*
I don't think we'll party too hard, Drew's likely to pass out before I will. Don't think she has the stamina to beat me.
*Erek laughs then, calling out to Gina* Have a good rest.
*He turns to glance at Drew after Gina is gone upstairs, slouching back onto the couch once more to sprawl across the middle and bring his head closer to the Get kin's lap. His blond eyebrows dance up and down over blue eyes, shifting his sprawled position until he was on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He can feel the shift in Drew's seating when she adjusts her legs, his eyes turning to look at her from an upside down angle. He is quiet until she breaks the silence, pondering an answer for her question*
I'm not sure really. There's a bit more to the city I'd like to discover, usually best to do that at night when I can skulk around in the shadows more. I'm interested in finding out the hideouts of some of the local shit heads that live in your neighborhood and scaring the piss out of them. But, I'll hang out for as long as you can tolerate me.
[Drew Roscoe] Erek made himself right at home, eating dry cereal on her couch and sweeping the crumbs off his lap and onto the floor, not being self conscious about making a mess that's as simple as that to clean up. If he was breaking furniture that'd be another story, but crumbs were nothing. The only disappointment was that she didn't have a dog to clean up the mess for her anymore. She'd had to give Basil up, she couldn't keep putting the poor dog through his terror fits whenever a Garou walked through her door.
The Rotagar lay across the couch so his head was close to her legs, then squiggled so he was on his back rather than on his side. He mentioned terrorizing the 'local shit heads' and she chuckled into the rim of her glass and shook her head some. "Just don't lead them back here. I'm confident about protecting my home, but I don't necessarily want to have to. It's quiet here, for now, I don't need people driving by my house and breaking my windows with bullets."
As long as she could tolerate him seemed to be an indeterminate length of time. She propped her left elbow up on the arm of the sofa, keeping a hold of her glass in that hand while the right fell to Erek's head, fingers threading their way idly through his hair in the same thoughtless, comfortable motions that a thumb might swirl on someone's hand while holding it.
"Better to relax before the evening comes, if you were to ask me. The nights can get too stressful, too sad. Batteries need recharging in more ways than one."
[Erek Skulason] *Drew can feel the twitch of an eyebrow lift the moment her hand fell to his head, fingers threading through the tangled mess of blond hair unconsciously set him at ease. Like a mother soothing a child of a nightmare. He hadn't felt such things in a while, but it was starting to have another affect on him. He clears his throat, his body shifting on the couch to get more comfortable, legs stretched to allow his bare feet to dangle over the arm, toes wiggling as he flexed the muscles in his calves to ease a budding tension that grew.
This close to Drew, Erek was aware of her femininity. Her scent permeated his nose, her warmth felt through his skin as small creases form in his brow when he frowns. That faint musk of her breeding tickles in the back of his mind, and the wolf that lays deeply under his skin almost awakens from its lethargic sleep*
You had a mate at one time didn't you? There seems to have been a male or two that were presence in your life. What became of them?
[Drew Roscoe] The smile on her face doesn't slip away when he asks That Question. The expression saddens some, it's impossible for it not to, but it's also fond. The memories were good ones, at least. Her fingers continue on autopilot, easing tangles out of his hair until it was completely smooth, then simply bushing it from his face and ears rhythmically.
"Yeah, I did..."
For the second question, the fuller story.
"Thomas 'Gut Song' Weist was the one that introduced me to the fact that I'm a Kinfolk, in the roughest way imaginable. He's a Skald. He knows every hero to have walked the earth, he knows my heritage even though I don't. He's... intense. But incredibly intelligent and devout. I love him greatly. Joe 'War Handed' Holst was a Modi, a bull-headed kid about your age, outwardly horrific and brutal and merciless, but smart as hell and... just inherently good. Joe was my mate."
She takes another drink from the glass, sipping lightly. "...Thomas, I'm not sure where he is now. He left for the Umbra about.... eight or nine months ago now? Some mission or another, I never got the full details. He never came back. Joe and I left for Portland, he caught wind of something going on out there and wanted to go join the movement. I packed up to go with him." She's wrinkling her nose, scowling at the cup now, fingers shifting movements to smooth their way across his forehead and over his temples now. "The Fenrir there murdered him for his Camp. They refused to look past it at who he was, what all he'd accomplished. He was Jarl here, he gave Kora a pack, a home, a start. She took over when he stepped down to leave. He's done so much for this city, and they murder him and don't even have the good grace to tell me he's gone. I go looking for him a week later and get the most casual answer imaginable."
There's a beat, and she kills off the rest of her glass, sets it to rest on the arm of the sofa, and smirks a bit. "I got kicked out of the city after I beat and tried to kill the man responsible. Broke my hand on his face. I feel a little better for that, at least."
[Erek Skulason] *The motion of Drew's fingers massaging through his scalp, untangling the mop of blond hair sends shivers down his spine. It's hypnotic and relaxing, making him lethargic as his eyes drift shut and all he can do is listen to her voice with his ears. His senses become more honed with the lack of sight, he feels the slightest of tension that might run through her fingers, or the way her voice will change in tone as she spoke about the one's she loves. The clinking of the melting ice in the glass sets off the watery smell of whiskey, he knows when she sets it down, when she moves by the shift of the cushions under his back. Her story is painful one, one that she tells to a strange no moon resting on her couch with his head near her thigh.
It was all so surreal for Erek.
He doesn't disrupt her, doesn't want her to stop what she was doing. The wrinkled lines in his forehead smooth out as he no longer frowns, his head slides until the top of his skull touched against her outer thigh, feeling the hiss of fabric against his scalp*
You've got the resolve to continue on, Drew, it has to be hard for you? Yet you manage to wear those smiles, you continue to give aid, you seem happiest when you can help someone.
[Drew Roscoe] Erek relaxed under the administrations of one hand thoughtlessly working its way through his hair and along his scalp, never scratching with fingernails but always rubbing and working lightly with the flesh of her fingers instead. His hair offered no resistance to being run through after a time, it had been smoothed as it could, and when that point hit, when he scooted up so the top of his head pressed to her leg, she was massaging his scalp, fingers moving slow and on their own accord.
She didn't lean forward yet to set the empty glass down on the table, but kept it in her left hand, tapping a fingernail lightly on the side, light enough to not generate a lot of noise in doing so.
"Yeah..." She smiled a bit and glanced back down at him. The alcohol warmed her up, fogged her mind some and made it easier to let happy memories drift to the surface, to let go of the bored expression that Fenrir whose name she couldn't even remember wore on his face when he told her he'd killed Joe and wondered aloud what she was doing with 'cowardly trash' like him. "Well, it's what I'm here for. I can't fight the good fight, I support you guys however I can instead. I know the kind of stuff you see, that you feel and go through. If I can get you guys to sit down at a table for a hot meal or sleep in a warm bed rather than out in the open? Well, y'all deserve it."
"Anyway, Joe wouldn't want me wasting my life and potential crying for him. He always seemed to be waiting for me to move on, even when he was alive. We both knew how short the life expectancy for a Modi is, especially one as bloodthirsty as he was."
[Erek Skulason] Would you move on? Could you, even with Joe still fresh in the grave, find yourself gravitating to another Garou that would likely end up in some fate different from your mate's, but still dead?
*They were thoughtless questions, given rise to his curiosity of her, wanting to absorb knowledge, to dig deeper into the young kin's history and mind. It was the role of his auspice to question everything, so he does it now, to rest her resolve*
What makes you think that Joe was waiting for you to move on, did he not love you?
*The administration of her fingers upon his scalp manage to find a sweet spot that makes the young Get of Fenris tense suddenly, he squeezes his eyes shut, and bit down on his lip. It was a pleasurable feeling, like when you rub a dog behind the ear, or scratch him just under the chin. It makes him grunt softly, his left leg twitches for a few moments until Erek can't stand the sensation any longer. He brings a hand up to seize Drew's wrist, gently pulling it away from his scalp, and tilts his head back to open his eyes and look at her*
[Drew Roscoe] "Oh yeah, I'll move on sometime. It's just rough that no one's ever gonna be him, and it's not fair to compare to him either." Two glasses of whiskey had loosened her tongue some. These kinds of things she probably wouldn't be so honest about. More than likely, she'd be closed up and vague with her answers, smile brightly and switch the subject to something else entirely. The second question is greeted with a shrug. "He always thought that I should be with Thomas, since he found me first. He never believed me when I chose him, and I think a part of him always waited for me to change my mind and go find 'someone better'. He didn't ever think he was good enough or believe fully that I would stay." She frowned softly and shook her head, fingers finding what had to be a sweet spot that had his back and shoulders tensing up without her really realizing. "But he loved me as much as I loved him."
His leg twitches, and she glances curiously down the length of his sprawled out body to the funny motion. Then he seizes her hand and pulls her fingers away from his scalp and hair, and her eyes find his. She blinks once, like she's confused, then grins a bit sheepishly and shrugs one shoulder up close to her jaw. "Sorry. That was just kinda second-nature I guess."
And she leans forward to put her empty glass on the table, finally.
[Erek Skulason] *From this angle, he can't exactly hide his expression from her and Erek seems so unguarded with his emotions, that they read so plainly on his face. She will notice that his cheeks have darkened to a rosy hue, he squeezes her wrist gently before letting go, and pulls his arms back down to rest them on his stomach. He waits until she isn't looking to make a slight adjustment by tugging on the waistband of his jeans and sighs.
Two glasses of whiskey have gotten the kin to open up to him, he ponders how much more would loosen her up even more, but then snapped his tongue against the back of his teeth in a chastising cluck, and snorts*
You'll never find another Garou like this Joe. It ain't going to be easy to replace him, and you shouldn't have to. If that day comes you find someone else to let in, you'll have new memories to create. Just look at it like a book, one chapter ends as another begins.
*Erek can feel the rise in his body temperature, the flush was spreading down into his throat to burn at his collarbone and shoulders. He turns, digging his elbow into the cushions, using the leverage to prop himself up slowly. His head bowing down to cause blond hair to fall across his eyes, hiding his expression. He shakes his head, breathing in and out as he puts distance between himself and Drew*
I knew a girl once. I see her sometimes when I sleep at night, I don't know who she is or why she's there. I think she's connected to the things I don't remember. I've manage to stamp down the pain that came with her image, the confusion. It was rough the first couple of months after Skúli found me and I was sick. The change had left me pretty fucked up.
*He stands now, giving Drew his back as Erek stretched his arms above his head, rolling up on the balls of his feet, and then drops his arms to his sides. He seems slightly uncomfortable as he steps around the table, half-turning to bend and pick up the boxes of crackers and cereal, and his empty glass. He winks at her before walking away to head into the kitchen*
[Drew Roscoe] Drew's a pretty attentive girl on an average day. It was one of many things her paranoid (rightfully so, though) father instilled in her, made sure she was sharp about so she could survive more effectively when he was no longer there to shelter her. This was why she was a sure shot with a gun of any sort, why she knew how to sneak through the shadows and walk so her feet didn't make any noise. It's also how she became accustomed to keeping constant watch on her surroundings.
He adjusts his pants, and on a typical day she'd notice that, but with a solid buzz of alcohol humming in her mind it slips by. Lucky him. She's leaning back, he's letting go of her wrist after a bit of a squeeze, and she smiles warmly at him before stretching out, propping her heels up on the coffee table and sinking back into the couch comfortably. Her eyes followed after him as he started to clean off the coffee table and head into the kitchen with everything in his arms. An eyebrow quirked upward, and she shook her head and spoke clearly enough, with no slur to her words just yet, but quiet enough that she wasn't bothering Gina upstairs.
"You're pretty sharp for an 'eighteen, I think' year old. Your uncle Skúli was right about you." There's a beat, and she's closing her eyes and resting slumped comfortably into the corner of the couch. "This girl. You think she's a sister or a lover?"
[Erek Skulason] *Drew can make out his rustling in the kitchen, might even see his tall form moving back and forth as cabinet doors open and close. He deposits his glass in the sink, bending over to rest his elbows on the counters' edge and rubs his hands across his face when he leaned over. Fingers slide up into his hair, gripping it tightly as Erek squeezed his eyes shut and forced his body to relax. The reaction that sparked from her massaging his scalp, doesn't seem to surprise him once bit. He's had situations like this before*
What makes you say that?
*Erek calls from the kitchen, finally pushing away from the sink when he thinks he's calmed down enough, and decides to return to Drew in the main room. He doesn't return to the couch, just stands with his arms folding across his chest, blue eyes peeled to the small kin*
What makes you think I'm so 'sharp for my age? *a wry grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, she mentions the girl and the smile disappears quickly*
Not sure exactly. I just know she was important somehow, but I can't see her face. And I know if I see it, it'll come back, like a flood.
[Drew Roscoe] He spends some time out in the kitchen, trying to force himself to ease up, let some of the tension wrapped up in deft fingers that had detangled his hair and rubbed at his scalp run free, simmer down away from a boiling point. She was as good as a landlord, after all. Upsetting her could easily be a fast track back out onto the sidewalk
--though she didn't seem the type to kick someone out, not like that.
Her eyes are still closed when he returns to the living room, but one opens up when the pad of bare feet stop short and he doesn't sit on the couch or the loveseat but instead opts to stand, hovering in the space between the two pieces of furniture, arms over his chest and eyes stuck to her. She surveys him while he stares her down.
"Because most people wouldn't really understand where I am after Joe. You picked up and understood even with some whiskey fogging the way between us. Hell, when I got back into town the first question on most peoples lips was whether we had a chance for me to get pregnant or not." She frowned faintly, thumping her barren abdomen with the flat of one hand before letting it rest there. He moves on to express that he's sure if he finds this face, if he can see it in real life and everything that surrounds it, it may trigger his memories.
To this Drew answers with cautious skepticism rather than rushed encouragement to go chasing chance. "...You ever wonder if there's a reason you forgot, though?"
[Erek Skulason] *A muscle ticks in the right side cheek, spreading up into his temple and into his eyes. He squints at her, narrowing them into thin slits. It isn't a baleful glare Erek gives Drew, nor an angry one. The smooth skin of his forehead puckers and wrinkles with a frown, contemplating an answer to her question as he desperately tries to unlock the heavy doors that close off certain memories. A growl that isn't quite human, and nowhere near rageful rumbles in the base of his throat out of frustration*
Call it instinct - a hunch. I ain't good at reading people, and yet I can sometimes think up the right thing to say. Maybe it's my moon, or Brigid's fine perception aiding me from beyond her grave. I ain't got a clue, darling.
*The frustration intensifies as Erek lowers his body into a couch, swaying slowly until he stands on the balls of his feet in perfect balance. Muscles clenched tightly in his thighs and calves press against the fabric of his jeans*
Since the moment I became a Garou, my life's been upside down. I don't know how or what triggered it, except maybe that ghostly face I see is a part of it. My mind may not be able to handle what happened, because it was so horrific, could that shutting down like that is the only way to keep from going insane.
[Drew Roscoe] He's scowling hard now, crouching down on the hardwood floor rather than moving to sit in either piece of furniture. Drew's content where she is on the couch, in her dress clothes still, one arm up on the sofa's arm while the other hand stayed resting on the bottom of her stomach, staying where it'd fallen when she'd tapped herself in the abdomen for emphasis on her aggravation with the question most thought suiting to greet her with when she came back home mateless.
"Right..." She's moving her hand from the sofa arm to scrub at her eyes, rubbing away some of the eye shadow she'd applied for work in doing so, fading the light violet color on her eyelids to more of a natural nude tone. "It's gotta be frustrating not to know... I can't even compare, or begin to understand. But to speak of it from an uninvolved standpoint... It just seems like it might just be for the best. The mind doesn't blot things out all willy-nilly like that, there was probably something that would've snapped you. In an effort for self-preservation, you blocked it out and everything involved with it too."
She groaned some as she sat up, planting her feet on the floor and leaning forward, tucking her hair back behind her ears before sitting up straight and plucking some of the stray hairs that had come loose from brushing her fingers through Erek's hair and letting them fall to the floor to be swept up along with his cereal crumbs later. "I can't say I know if it was overkill or not, and it wiped out too much.... but... I don't know. I just personally wouldn't go sniffing for something that could very well ruin my spirit."
[Erek Skulason] *Drew had a point, Erek could see this through the haze of frustration that was attempting to cloud his judgment. He grunts once, running his hand back through his hair to shove it out of his eyes one final time and stands up. He settles his eyes on her face, allowing them to travel over the little woman. The hard edges that had drawn them into slits softens as Drew was pulling pieces of his hair from her fingers to let them drop on the floor*
I must be shedding all over the place. *he mutters to her*
You look tired, or drunk. I'm not sure which, I know a hot shower would perk you up, and Miss Gina's got to be getting all lonely without someone to cuddle with.
[Drew Roscoe] She chuckled a little and shook her head when he informed her that she looked drunk and/or tired, letting the last bit of hair she found on her black slacks drift to the floor. "Maybe a little of both. I went in early this morning so I could get done as fast as I did."
So she stands up and tucks a hand under the long, heavy mass of dark brown hair to scratch at the back of her neck, the other hand at her hip while she did this. Shoulders pulled back, her chest pressed out, and the vertebrae in her upper back crackled quietly, releasing tension and stored up stresses carried in her back muscles when she stretched them out like that. She returned her gaze to the Rotagar after closing her eyes to stretch, and smiled lightly.
"Gina's a wonderful girl, don't let her tell you otherwise. There's a reason I trust a pickpocket alone in my bedroom." She walks by him on her way to the kitchen, but pauses to scrub a hand along the backs of his shoulders, scratching gently with her fingernails through the material of his shirt so that the touch could be appreciated rather than stinging. She got awfully touchy after a drink or two seeped from her stomach to her mind. "Thanks for the talk, though, Erek. First time I've been able to admit how much I really do miss those boys since I got back home."
And that said, she'd make her way for the staircase to ascend and join the other Kin for an afternoon nap.
"Nurture your mind with great thoughts; to believe in the heroic makes heroes." -- Benjamin Disrael
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