Moon Phase: Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (82% full).
Weather: Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 67 degrees Fahrenheit (19 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.00 and falling, and the relative humidity is 56 percent. The dewpoint is 51 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius.)
Time/Date :It is currently 14:00 Pacific Time on Fri Jun 24 2005.
Place: Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room
Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room
All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.
At a little over five foot tall and with a slim build, KL is hardly awe-inspiring on first sight. She appears to be around seventeen years old and still carries a teenager's air of disenchantment and irritation.
Her mid-length mousy-brown hair is brushed back out of her eyes and behind her ears. It's showing the signs of recent careful, if unskilled, attention - the ends have been neatly trimmed and it's been well brushed. She would be quite attractive - in particular she has a very cute, upturned, nose - were it not for the sullen and aggressive set of her mouth and the hostility of her gaze. Her hazelnut eyes look out with disappointment and poorly hidden anger, as if the world were a holiday villa that didn't match the travel agent's description. Her skin is oddly pale, and on her right shoulder-blade a two-inch-square tattoo of a winged horse is visible. Physically, she's well proportioned, and her bare arms show a tight musculature that speaks of regular exercise.
She's got a habit of slouching and of leaning up against any available support. When she forgets to slouch, however, she moves with a surprising degree of grace and compact poise.
She is wearing a faded and beaten up pair of blue jeans that are just a little too large for her, and have holes in the knees, a pair of worn combat boots and a faded red tank top with "And your little doggy too!" emblazoned across the front. The tank top has a badly-repaired tear across the chest, causing the word "little" to be have its second "t" deformed. Similarly, the jeans have a set of unrepaired holes on her left thigh, pale skin showing behind the rents.
She looks young, maybe somewhere around eleven or twelve years of age. Her limbs are gangly, a little too long for the rest of her, a little too clumsy to be anything but the product of early puberty. As far as her build goes, she's whipcord thin--and her cheeks are a little hollow, her bones pronounced despite skin and muscle, suggesting that this thinness is more a product of ill nutrition, not good exercise and a high metabolism.
Her hair is red, not the carrot top redness that is more common, but a dark auburn--it would look quite nice if it weren't so dirty, scraggly, and generally ill kept. The hair reaches just past her shoulders, though the length is definitely not uniform, and there are split ends galore. Someone doesn't understand the concept of a hair brush. As far as her face goes, it too looks as though it has the potential to be rather attractive, given a few years. That is, if one is able to look past the dirt, grime, deathly pale skin, and ignore the overall general /feral/ look this kid seems to possess. Her eyes are a muddy sort of green, almost hazel but not quite.
She's wearing a pair of very worn looking khaki pants, no shoes or socks, and an old t-shirt that is so faded the original slogan is unreadable. There are holes torn into either side of the shirt. This allows for her metis deformity to show clear and obvious--there's an extra pair of arms about halfway down her torso. They look even thinner than her normal pair, and the hands themselves are ill formed, with somewhat stubby fingers that are mostly the same length apart from the thumb, no fingernails, and a missing middle finger on each hand (and a space for where that finger should be).
Beautiful, this woman isn't. Most people wouldn't even call her interesting, although there is a spark of something, deep down in there. Even so, most people would call her homely, if they bothered to call her anything at all. She's about 5'6" tall, and burly. Not fat -- It's the kind of burly that's all muscle, just not well defined muscle.
Her hair is brown, distinctly curly, and in her eyes. Constantly. The part that's not in her eyes is about shoulder length. Her eyes are distinctly odd, although it's hard to tell, given how often she hides behind her hair. They're yellow, and look almost cat-like. The rest of her face isn't offensive, just boring. The nose is a bit big -- maybe it's been broken, or maybe she was just born that way. Her chin is broad, as are her cheekbones. Classic features for a man that don't at all work on her. There's a wry, cynical smile often playing about her lips that does nothing to add to her mostly non-existent charm. Makeup, it's clear, is of very little use to this person.
"Battered" would describe her choice of clothing quite well. Grey trenchcoat, tired blue jeans, an oxford shirt hanging open, with a t-shirt underneath. Her sneakers are black, and she often has a black hat jammed over her head.
On this balmy summer afternoon, Kaz is conked out firmly asleep on the couch, drooling gently into a pillow.
Having entered the farmhouse via the back door, KL has poured herself a glass of milk and comes wandering into the front room with it dangling loosely between her fingers. She seems oblivious to the presence of anyone else in the house, humming tunelessly as she moves towards the seating.
Thump-thump. Thump. Thump-thump-thumpthump. Someone's coming down the stairs, and they aren't being in the slightest bit quiet about it.
Kaz grunts as she hears KL rustling about, and then falls off the couch once the thumping starts. "Ow," she mutters, and scrambles back onto the couch. Her hair looks as if it's planning on eating her, soon. She peers at the Fury, and asks, voice somewhat hoarse, "Who're you?"
The Fury, absorbed in her own little world, starts and spins to face Kaz, almost dropping the glass in her hand. Some milk spills onto the carpet, but she manages to keep it clutched firmly. Still, an epithetical "Fuck!" escapes her lips. Her feet automatically separate and her knees bend into a fighting crouch. Taking a deep breath, she straightens up and takes a sip of milk. "KL Cole. Escapes-From-Money. Cliath Ahroun of the Black Furies. Who're you?" There's a flat hostility in her voice.
Kaz observes this process with faint amusement in her eyes. "Dude, if you keep gettin' startled by people fallin' off couches, you're gonna have a heart attack before you're 30. But, well, hi. I'm Kaz. Ears, t'Garou. Bone Gnawer an' Galliard." She adds, watching the other woman carefully, "Metis, too. Used t'hang out here, before the Caern fell. Challenged, got Fostern, led the tribe, all that good shit. Helped reclaim the place, but half my pack died in the process, so I left 'cause it was sort of depressing. An' now I'm back."
A final thump announces that the whoever-it-is has made it to the first floor, but Bug apparently isn't a social butterfly. She stops at the entrance to the living room at the sound of voices, only her head and shoulders visible as she peers into the room. The cub has a dark frown on her features--but how's this? She's clean, she's wearing clothes (minus shoes and socks), and she smells like something besides dirt and gasoline.
KL relaxes a little at the introduction from the Bone Gnawer. "Cool." she says, flicking a glance over her shoulder at whoever has come down the stairs. A glance that quickly turns in to a full on double-take, followed by a stare, a stare aimed at Bug's arms. "Fuck!" she says, again, this time an element of wonderment. "Uh..." she pulls herself together. "Hi."
Kaz brightens. "Hey, kiddo. How goes?" To KL, she says, wryly, "Spinner can't hide s'well as I can."
Bug returns KL's exclamation with a blank, somewhat tense expression--her greeting may as well be made to the wall the metis cub is leaning against, for all the reaction it garners from her. She chews at the joint of a finger (from her usual set of hands) for just a moment, then looks toward Kaz and grunts.
"Spinner, hey?" KL says with a grin. "Sorry about swearing at you - I'm a bit on edge at the moment. Keep expecting to be evicted." She shrugs and looks back to Kaz. "We have a mortgage problem on the Fury house."
Kaz sucks air in through her teeth. "Aw, damn, you too? Them Fangs've had some issues goin' on, also. Ain't no fun, not havin' a secure place. Well," she amends, "Ain't no fun for some people. Me, I'm used t'it."
Bug pulls the finger from her mouth and points to her chest. "Bug," she says, in a very thick, garbled sort of voice. "Fian-na me-tis Gall'rd cub."
"Yeah. I've been around a bit too, slept under my share of hedges, and in the odd dumpster too." KL admits, waving the milk glass expressively. "But...fuck it...I'd just got used to having a place, and a pack and everything, and now it looks like I'm going to lose the place." She turns back to Bug. "Heya. I'm KL Cole, Cliath Black Fury Ahroun, packed under Wolverine." This is said slowly and deliberately, as if the Fianna is hard of hearing.
Kaz gets a half-nostalgic, half-amused grin on her face. "Wolverine, huh? That must be... interestin'." She shakes her head faintly, and adds, "Anyhow, you still /got/ a home, so far, and even if y'all get evicted, you'll still have th' pack."
Bug grunts again. She steps into the room after another moment, moving with a strange sort of hunch-shouldered lope that keeps most of her weight on the balls of her feet. And then her direction takes her straight towards the old, out-of-date magazines.
KL looks somewhat relieved at no longer having to carry on a conversation in two different directions, and faces Kaz again. "That's true." she says. "And it's not like I have much stuff to shift if the worst happens. As to packing under Wolverine...it's kind of where I am normally anyway. Doesn't feel unnatural, just cool. So what brings you back to town? Going to be staying? Do you know Squeaks?"
Kaz says, "Huh. Yeah? Wolverine always seemed really..." She trails off, and, sounding slightly more formal, says, "I packed under Wolverine in a difficult time in my life, and his lack of compassion did not mesh well with my approach. I'm glad it works for you, though." She perches on the arm of the couch, and shrugs. "Um, originally, a message did. I was lookin' to tell Does Things The Wrong Way somethin'-- she's a Gnawer knife moon. I was kinda pissed to find out she was here. I was gonna book it once I'd given her the message, but then she kinda fixed me with a gimlet eye and was like, "You're staying," only more mystical than that, and I said, "Um, guess I am." I mean, it ain't like there ain't stuff t'do here. An', yeah. Squeaks is a fun lil' brat."
Bug picks up the magazine on the very top of the pile, an issue of 'People' that is dated in the early nineties. Then she drops into a crouch and flips it open, resting it on her knees and leaning very far down to look at the pages. The position looks extremely awkward, to say the least.
KL moves over to a chair and dumps herself unceremoniously into it. "Yeah, well, I've never been hot on the 'mercy' thing anyway." There's a dangerous undercurrent to this, a hint of threat creeping back into her voice, though it soon goes. She waves at the tears in her jeans. "Sure is fun. When I met...Squeaks...decided to make a break for freedom. Olga thought it was quite funny, I think." Not much bitterness there, just amusement.
Kaz says, with a touch of wryness, "It can lead to an inability to tell potential friend from definite foe. But, y'know, like I said, it works for a lot of people, an' I know my experience is weird, so seriously, go you." She snorts. "I was... somewhat less amusin', when I was a kid. But then, I got stuck in the woods and left there, f'one thing."
KL nods, a frown creasing her brow. "Not something I'd know too much about." She gestures at her body. "Though I did get stuck on a farm in the middle of nowhere when I was a cub. Well, kind of. So I do know what some of these lot are going through." Another airy wave at the farm.
"Oh, these guys have it... Different. F'one thing, less pain. But I mean, even so, I wouldn't wish the whole 'being kidnapped' thing on anyone. It ain't fair to the kids, it ain't fair to us, and I wish there was a better way." Kaz shrugs. "But, there you go."
"It's tradition!" KL says, with a conspiratorial grin. "We've done it for a thousand years, so why change?" She folds her arms across her chest and sighs. "'Course, for some of us, being kidnapped was a blessing. You haven't met my father."
Kaz blinks slightly. "I take it this is the kinda guy some've you folks'd cheerfully gack?"
Bug peers over the top of her magazine at the other two Garou, though she still remains uncomfortably hunched over.
KL shrugs. "Nah. Not that bad. Just controlling, and very concerned with the way things looked. The way his daughter looked, in particular. What his daughter did. What his daughter was going to be." Old anger flares in her eyes. "So I said 'fuck him' and never looked back."
Kaz says, "Sounds like a plan. 'Cause, you know, it ain't like you need to be Ms. Formal And Precise, y'know? Specially not if you're gonna be hackin' things up in your spare time."
Bug grunts quietly and drops her eyes back to the magazine pages. If one looks closely, however, they'd be able to see her eyes aren't actually moving. She's not reading.
Kaz vanishes off to the bathroom. Apparently, the need was fairly urgent.
"So, how long you been here, Spinner?" KL asks, after watching the retreating Bone Gnawer. She takes a big swig of milk, looking surprised at the now empty glass.
"No know," Bug replies, keeping her gaze firmly on the magazine. Her muscles tense slightly, only just enough to be noticeable.
"Is there a problem?" KL asks, a rivulet of poison running through an overly sweet tone. The glass is placed on the floor, and she twists around so that she's facing the cub, then leans forward, a predatory glint creeping in to her eyes.
Bug's tension ratchets up several notches, and she gives a quick, jerky shake of her head. Still, she doesn't raise her eyes.
"Well?" A flat-voiced demand, her jaw jutting, her cheeks starting to colour. KL's hands clench into fists and she starts breathing deeply.
Confusion invades Bug's otherwise blank expression, mostly around her eyes and wrinkled forehead. Her fingers close tightly around the pages of the magazine, wrinkling them, and she chomps down on her upper lip. Abruptly, the metis child seems to make a decision--she jerks her chin up and to the side, exposing throat, then waits, practically holding her breath.
This gets a hiss of displeasure from KL, who swings out of her seat and stomps towards the door. "Nobody has a fucking spine around here." she complains, to nobody in particular. "See ya." she says, somewhat dismissively, looking back over her shoulder at Bug.
Bug's confusion clearly grows at KL's reaction. She remains crouched where she is, eyes firmly on the magazine, biting her lip fiercely, and with her head still tilted to the side. Finally, just before KL is about to get out of earshot, she calls, thick voice likewise confused, "Have spi-ine."
"Whatever." The Fury yells back, before heading towards the door. The empty milk glass remains where she left it, on the floor. There's a thump as the door swings closed behind her, then she's gone.