((want some company?))
Erich[i don't mind! i just got home from a long day and i'ma be slow and tired, though]
Ingrid[if you can set us up haha i picked the room without looking at where to start a scene]
Draco((sure can, lemme get in character!))
Sarah(hmm, her descrip needs changing, the scars aren't fresh any more LOL))
Sarah*She wanders down the sidewalk, guitar slung across her back, a hand holding the strap where it crosses her mid section. The strap of a purse mirroring it the other direction, creating an X across her chest with the straps. It only emphasizes the growing baby bump of at least 5 months along at this point. She wears sweatpants now, less binding than jeans, and a large loose t-shirt. She glances around for a good outdoor bench or place to sit and practice at*
IngridThere is a girl walking down the street. Her clothing is comfortable, the gentle swell of her belly is accentuated by the straps that cross her torso. She glances about for a bench.
Only the closest is already occupied. A slender Asian woman sits there, legs wrapped in tight denim, the snugness of her jeans a contrast to the dark, oversized sweater she wears. The shoes on her dainty feet end in sharp points, the kind that make you wonder if her toes aren't now deformed. The heels are sharp as spikes.
This woman has noticed the other, and she watches her in a way that is uncomfortable. Not lustfully, not hungrily. Hers is the detached gaze of the sated lion that watches the gazelle amble past. The weaker animal is safe -- for now -- because the predator is not on the hunt.
For now.
Sarah((Should I wait for Erich or go ahead and post?))
Erich[i'm working on one, but don't bother w/ post order. if i really need people to stop and wait, i'll yell]
Sarah*feeling eyes on her, that tingle at the back of the neck that makes hairs stand on end, some called intuition, others called it instinct, even others call it paranoia. But one isn't paranoid if there really is people out there to get you. Her eyes settle on the other girl, tilts her head and offers a friendly smile in defense against the hard stare.* Hello, weather's beautiful right now, isn't it? *she turns slightly and takes a deep breath* Fresh air coming in off the water sweeps a lot of the city funk off and clears the dust.
ErichThere's a Mustang parked across the street. Black, with thick white racing stripes. Its driver is a young man, blond and muscular, the sort that a thousand years ago would have made people think Norseman, Dane, Viking; the sort that today simply makes people think more muscle than brain. He's parked there and his engine is still running, and his driverside window is rolled down, his forearm along the rim, and this is because:
there's a police cruiser parked behind him, sirens off, flashers on, spotlight trained squarely on the back of the young man's head. A traffic stop: the plates on the Mustang are out-of-state, and the registration tags are expired.
IngridSome would look away when they're caught staring, eyes darting to the left, maybe offer an apolgetic smile. Something. Anything.
The woman on the bench does not look away when Sarah seeks her stare. The jut of her chin is not a challenge daring the girl to react, but she does watch her. That smile is interesting. People don't generally smile at Ingrid, they don't try to converse with her or tell her about the weather, and yet in this metropolis there have been a few.
Interesting.
She only looks away -- glances, really, just a slight upward tilt of her head up and at an angle -- when the girl takes that breath. She matches it, breathing deeply through her nose. There is a freshness, sure, and mositure, but beneath that the stench of the city prevails. Ingrid's keen nose picks up waste, urine, et cetera. Slowly, blinking slowly once.
Lights flash across the street, and that predatory gaze lifts and shifts not to the man in the Mustang, but to the policeman. The looks is brief.
"It stinks."
She looks at the girl, looks her up and down, before drawing a clutch to her midsection and rising. In these heels she's the taller.
Sarah*she chuckles* Yeah, to some it does, but the city's my home. To me it's the smell of familiar places, childhood memories. *she shifts the weight of the guitar across her back* I take it you aren't from around here then?
Sarah*follows the glance toward the flashing lights and shakes her head slightly at the image* Makes me wonder what got him pulled over? Bet he's hoping for a good looking lady cop. *impish grin*
ErichThe cop is taking his time. It's an intimidation tactic -- let the pulled-over stew in his predicament for a bit, cool his heels and his head. It's that, but it's also because on some semiconscious level, for some reason, the policeman isn't terribly keen to walk up to this one. Something in the back of his brain is twinging; the sort of primal instinct that movie detectives crack cases with, save lives with, trust.
Reality's different. This policeman, in the end, shakes the heebie-jeebies off. Pushes his door open. He heft his belly up with his belt, and for what it's worth it's not that big a belly, not for his age (mid-50s) and not for this region (mid-Atlantic) and certainly not for this goddamn country where the entire lower and middle classes are trending toward obese. He has a hand on the butt of his gun as he goes not to the driver's side where Erich's started to drum his fingers in impatience -- or nerves -- but to the passenger's.
The cop raps on the window. Erich's eyes flick down, but he doesn't look over. He thumbs the power window down; that's it. Dialogue inaudible. But Erich isn't doing what everyone knows you're supposed to at a traffic stop: provide license, provide registration.
IngridFamiliar places. Childhood memories. For a fraction of an instant something moves in the deep dark void of Ingrid's eyes. Perhaps she thinks of her own childhood, has a momentary reminesence. Perhaps she's thinking about dinner, or how easy it would be snap this girl's neck, or that pedestrians, or or or...Whatever the thought, it's gone with a blink.
The traffic issue is dismissed. From this distance it all looks very routine, and very routine isn't nearly as interesting as this young pregnant girl, this homespun sweetness with a guitar on her back.
Ingrid's full lips move into a smile. The expression softens her face.
"I'm not," she says, heels tapping on the concrete to the slow tempo of her walk. Her movements are graceful, fluid like silk in a breeze. Dark eyes flick back when there's movement from the squad car, and stay there. "If he's hoping for someone soft, it looks like he'll be disappointed." Her words are accented slightly. No, she's not from around here, but she's been here long enough to be understood.
Sarah*When the woman walks in those spike heels Sara watches her for a long moment, if she gets too close Sarah makes sure she has a way to go, in case she's come upon the wrong sort of person. Not frightened, not even by the low simmering heat of rage, but wary. Glances toward the patrol car and grimaces* Nope, no luck there. *squints at the scene, realizing the driver isn't doing the normal routine and she steps back away from the curb, putting the building closer to her back. Glances both ways down the road. Tension across her shoulders* He didn't get his hope, but I just hope it doesn't turn ugly.
ErichMore prophetic words have rarely been said. Sarah's scarcely done hoping when shit turns ugly. Approaching from the passenger's side doesn't mean you'll never get grabbed, not when the guy you've pulled over is this fast. This strong. Erich's arm lashes out; he grabs the cop by his standard-issue tie. He doesn't even bat an eyelash. He doesn't even look at the guy. He yanks, and the policeman's face slams into the window frame, and then Erich does it three more times before shoving the cop back.
He goes sprawling, bloody-faced, unconscious. Most people -- well; most people would never in their lives do such a thing. But that small, violent minority that might do such a thing: most of them would be gunning the engine, burning rubber.
Erich throws his door open so hard the women across the street can hear overstressed hinges creak. He doesn't circle around -- he slides across the hood, lands behind the car, drops out of their sight. Maybe he's a fucking zombie; maybe he's devouring the body. Or maybe he's scrounging through the cop's pockets, grabbing his keys, his two-way radio, his ticket pad.
The half-written ticket -- with Erich's plate number on it -- gets torn up and ripped to shreds. The keys go sailing into the distance, thrown with ridiculous force, in some random direction. The two-way radio is stomped to silicon and plastic under Erich's foot, and then,
provided no one's tried to stop him yet,
Erich runs over to the cruiser and climbs in and starts trying to figure out how to delete those last shreds of incriminating evidence off the policeman's on-board computer.
IngridIngrid watches the violence, her movements toward the girl shifting ever so slightly to grant her a better view. She watches, arms folded over her slim chest, as the mad man in the Mustang moves with lightning speed across the front seat of his car. And she watches, the corner of her mouth still quirked upward, as the policeman vanishes on the other side of the car.
This is the part where a normal person makes a commotion. Someoene should be calling the cops, and perhaps someone is. But that person is not the slender Asian woman. She takes a deep breath through her nose, sorts out the scents that assault her senses until she finds the one that she expects. Fresh and coppery and warm. Blood.
The blond man gets out of his car, and the dark-haired woman crosses the street toward him. The girl, unless she's made some movement or some commotion, momentarily forgotten. This is far more interesting.
Clearly this man is adamantly against getting a ticket.
Sarah((pause a sec! kids!))
Sarah*she squeaks with her mouth closed, grabs the straps of purse and guitar and backs a step right against the building looks both ways. She knew what that kind of speed and ferocity meant. Maybe she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wishes to hell she could contact David or Tray over the Totem phone. But next best thing, as she scoots along the building she pulls a cell phone out of her purse and hits the 1 and dial and holds it to her ear. She needs to get out of here fast.*
Erich[oh, i should have rolled this last post - wits+comp - figure out how to delete shit, fast!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )
ErichFor someone who's just beaten a man unconscious, and an officer of the law at that, Erich looks remarkably composed. Angry -- nostrils flaring, jaw tensed -- but in control. He's sitting in the cop's still-warm seat now, behind the cop's steering wheel, with the lights still flashing overhead and the spotlight still trained on his own car.
Oh yeah. Spotlight. He fumbles around for a second, figures out how to turn it off. Now it's just the red-blue-red-blue strobing of the rooftop lightbar, which lights the stark planes of his face in ghostly flashes as he punches buttons only partly at random on the on-dash computer, scrolling, scrolling, deleting.
Hasn't noticed Sarah calling for help.
Yet.
Sarah*scooting farther away she frowns as she gets no answer. Damnit, where were those men when she really needed them? Bunch of male mother hens all the other times and now no one answers! She hits the 2 button and dials, slips into the doorway of a business and hopes it hides her from sight for the moment as she listens to the phone ring*
IngridBehind her, the girl steps back, moves to call for help, for escape, for something. Ingrid doesn't care if she's kin or mortal or something Other. In her condition she couldn't possibly outstrip a werewolf, not even in spiked heels. If she proved to be some manner of issue to be dealt with, Ingrid would deal with her.
But on the surface, at least until someone gets angry and turns into some sort of raging beast, this is all very...normal, considering. Or if it's out of the ordinary, Ingrid is so used to it that it's normal to her.
The spotlight goes out, and her smile broadens. By now, the staccato of her heels will resound clearly to the man's ears. Whether she's there to help or hinder remains to be seen.
Or perhaps it is seen, for just a handful of feet away she stops. Her hip juts to the side, and she crosses her arms once more.
"That was an interesting way to avoid a ticket," she says, cool as the night falling around them.
ErichErich barely pauses as Ingrid approaches. He's aware of her. Of course he is: her heels are a sharp, precise click on asphalt. His head turns a fraction. He sniffs the air. Then he turns back, keeps punching buttons on the police cruiser's computer.
"Walk away, lady," he mutters. "Or I'll lay you out just the same."
A jerk of his chin toward the cop, still sprawled on the sidewalk. Someone's going to notice soon. Someone other than the two who've already noticed. Erich punches another button, and then he's satisfied, he's cleaned his mess as well as he could. Which probably isn't all that well. Cop's going to wake up, and unless he's lucky as fuck, cop's not going to have amnesia.
He gets up. A tide of rage rises with him, makes his advance an innate weapon of intimidation. His eyes are as blue as his hair is blond; they cut toward Ingrid, then up and down the street, restless, wary.
[annnd a percep/alert roll! you can counter this with stealth if you want, Sarah.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (6, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )
Sarah((she's a pregnant kin, she's a law student, not well trained. Just standing hopefully out of sight while dialing franticly for a ride home, LOL))
IngridHe sniffs the air, and he gets the city. He gets the squad car, which smells a bit like its driver, sweaty and male. But from the woman he gets nothing. There's not just a lack of the Storm that flows in her veins, there's a complete void where she stands.
Her eyes stay on the man when he looks toward the sprawled body of the cop. Everything in him is meant to intimidate, to scare away this witness. His Rage eclipses hers, they are opposites on the spectrum after all. And she knows the threat is not idle. He's around twice her side, probably more. Still, rather than shrinking away, she lets out a low whuff from the back of her throat. A laugh.
"And if you can't?" she asks, tilting her chin down so that she looks up at him from the corners. And she moves, around the squad car in the direction of the sprawled cop, surveying the damage to the man's face from a distance, watching the rise and fall of his chest.
Sarah*As yet another call goes to voice mail she growls at the phone. She certainly was NOT going to call the cops* Damnit David! Where are you when I need you?? *she mutters a bit too loudly, winces and speed dials another number. She hated to, the only female in the pack was a bit off her rocker, but she was better than being alone!*
ErichThe wall of heat and rage and muscle takes a step forward: crowding Ingrid's space.
"I can."
And then his attention tears away from her. There's a gleam of a glowing screen in the dark doorway -- some cute little smartphone's SuperAMOLED or Retina Display or IPS-LCD or whatever the fuck it might be that sounded so good in the store, turns into such a liability right now. It catches Erich's roving, hunting eyes: another fucking witness, and this one calling too. The cops, probably. "Hey!" he shouts, a bark of sound; his feet pound pavement, he sprints across the street,
snatches the phone out of Sarah's hand and pretty much does to it what he did to the cop's two-way radio. Drops it on the pavement. Stomps his heel on it.
"Get out of here. GO."
Sarah*she cries out and reaches after her precious cell phone, then turns so her back is away from him, protecting the precious guitar, but does she retreat? Nope. Crazy wench, after what happened to her brother and the rest, she wasn't about to flee like a rabbit, she wasn't prey for anyone. Instead of instinctive Flight response, the mother in her combines with her Trueborn father's bravery (stupidity?) and Fight comes to the fore instead. Her hands fist and she stomps a foot, like a bull ready to charge a threat and she growls like her late mate* NO! You broke my fucking cell phone! Ass-hat! I wasn't calling the fucking cops! You owe me a new one!! *hormone storm: 1, Intelligence: Zero*
Sarah((*absolutely dies*))
IngridThe angry wall tries to crowd Ingrid's space, but if it wants to be successful it'll need to keep moving because she doesn't stop. Not speeding up, not moving purposely away, just continuing around the vehicle toward the man on the ground.
Erich's attention is snatched by the pregnant girl, and then he's off, gone away from the violence he inflicted so easily. There's an altercation there. Ingrid ignores it for the time being. She crouches beside the officer, which causes her to disappear behind the squad car. Whatever she does there, she's hidden from view.
When she eventually reappears, she's studying her fingertips -- now red and wet -- absently. The clack of her heels carries her to the still open passenger window of the Mustang. Ducking her head, she bends close and takes a deep whiff of the interior. The Ahroun may not have been able to get her scent, but she has his.
Straightening, she looks over the roof of the car, perhaps expecting carnage. Whatever she sees, she opens her clutch and retrieves her own cell phone, one of the latest and greatest in the lines of Android models. Turning, she leans back against the car, phone hidden by her hair.
Erich[shit, this wasn't refreshing.]
Dr. Lucien Satori
(Hi! Just trying to read what I walked in on)
((Just a note, I don't want Sarah killed, but bruised isn't out of the realm of possibility LOL wouldn't surprise me if her mouth got her into trouble. ))
Dr. Lucien Satori*Lucien walks into the area rising put of one of the metro exits. He glances around a moment then carries on onto the sidewalk. Today he is wearing designer skinny jeans and a rather nice shirt. His hair hangs freely around his face and he is carrying some manner of messenger bag as well.*
ErichErich: he doesn't stick around for the hormone storm. As soon as the cell phone's stomped to smithereens he's turning around, a shoulder-led pivot, a loose bounding stride taking him down those few steps to the sidewalk. Sarah insists she wasn't trying to call the cops. Erich smirks for just a second; he's facing away. She doesn't see it. He doesn't explain it, but he does toss this parting shot over his shoulder:
"Yeah? Maybe Santa Claus'll bring you one for Christmas. Be a good girl and see."
Ingrid's leaning on his car making a phone call when he gets back to it. Erich shoots her a glance over the top; misses her little cell in this light, in her hair, in his hurry to clear the scene. He climbs in, slams his door, and starts the engine with a roar. She's got about three seconds to clear the launchpad before he simply drives off from under her.
Dr. Lucien Satori*He also has purebreeding which pings him as a kin. Pure breed 1 of the Uktena, rare out and about in the city*
Sarah*She's practically shaking in her shoes. Fear? Maybe later, adrenaline rush? Oh yeah, to the umpteenth degree. As the guy whirls around and jogs back to his car her knees suddenly turn to jello as she realizes just how close she'd come to getting her head bit off....literally. What was she THINKING?? Drops to a seat in the dirty entrance to the alley, feet splayed, sitting on her rump with the guitar on her back and purse at her side. Comfy sweats now getting grungy as she starts to shake more from reaction*
IngridShe's off as soon as the door slams on the other side, off the car and off the phone. With a smooth graceful jerk, she tosses her hair off her shoulder.
In three seconds the car is roaring off into the night. Plenty of time for Ingrid to bend at the waist, peer in through the passenger window, and say with a smile, "To boayo."
not a snailLucien's phone rings. Wherever it is. Should it remain uncrunched, hopefully quite unlike Sarah's.
Dr. Lucien Satori8He notes the car zooming away and studies that scene for a moment to see all of what is going on. Seems naturally curious despite how quickly it happened and its on the way he is going also.*
Dr. Lucien Satori*He blinks and picks up his phone* Hello?
Treads-the-Ashen-PathThe call had come to her through one of her packmates. She had listened to the message but was otherwise uncertain how to respond. So instead Sophia left the house in a rush to find the woman. She moves swiftly when she needs to, unnaturally quickly, and off she goes in search of the kin. She was carrying the child of her packmate and this made her that much more important to them all.
Exactly what Sophia was going to do was anyone's guess. What mattered, however, was that she got to the kin as quickly as possible! Which meant everything else was considered secondary, at best!
There was focus in her eyes, intent, and she looked startingly intense at the moment. Some things are taken quite seriously, indeed!
Dr. Lucien Satori*He nears the scene though, speaking on his mobile. Ingrid catches his eye first and he has that warm feeling inside and even blushes a little*
I guess, I think something just happened here though, people sped off really quickly. Anyessa, is everything alright? *Into the phone*
Sarah*she's staring at the shattered remains of her cell phone. Tears start to pool in her eyes and she starts picking up the little pieces of dead tech. At the address beside the store she'd left a description of on Sophie's phone and the rest of the packmates she'd called. The tears spill over as she mourns the poor dead cell phone and hormones rock from the high point of Fight down into an unwarranted strong grief over the loss of such a silly little thing. All compounded by the relief of being alive and the downside of adrenaline.*
Erich[fuck. i missed ingrid's post in the flood of posts. this should go right after hers]
Ingrid gets a flick of a glance - moody, annoyed, a little bewildered. His ever-so-literate response, ever-so-courteous response:
"Fuck off."
And then drops into gear. A few hundred horses roar under the hood. The cop-beating, cellphone-smashing, not-a-Fenrir Ahroun goes tearing off into the night.
not a snail"Fine. If you hear of my ... tribe in Browntown, let me know, Da? Take names., I would like to meet family. ALso, keep eye out for any kin needing job-- teach them medic I, is good?"
Dr. Lucien SatoriI barely go to Browntown. I have a few friends there and sure I'll keep you informed if I do meet any. Yes, I can do that, is good. *He says into his smartphone and nods gently* I'm looking to meet people as well you know.
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