Time/Date: It is currently 12:30 Pacific Time on Fri Nov 25 2005.
Weather: Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 47 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 12 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.72 and rising, and the relative humidity is 93 percent. The dewpoint is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)
Moon Phase: Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (39% full).
Place: Anji's Apartment
Standing a little over five foot tall and slimly built, KL makes a not particularly imposing first impression. In her late teens, she has an air of irritation, and of nervy energy, combined with hostility and restrained aggression.
Her mousy-brown hair is pulled back into a plait that hangs down to the small of her back, and is fastened at the bottom and the top by dark brown leather bands. She would be quite attractive she has a very cute, upturned nose, and expressive hazelnut eyes were it not for the anger in her gaze and the sullen set of her mouth. She stares at people particularly people she doesnt know - with a cold fury, as if waiting for an opportunity to attack them.
KL has pale skin, and on her right shoulder-blade is a two-inch-square tattoo of a winged horse. There isnt much in the way of excess flesh on her, her cheekbones are clearly visible and her bare arms have a tight musculature that speaks of regular and plentiful exercise.
Shes rarely still for very long, and while she still remembers to slouch around from time to time, shes less inclined to do it these days, and her natural grace, balance and co-ordination is clearly evident in her movements.
She is wearing a white T-Shirt which has a dirty brown mark across the middle, a pair of white cycling shorts, white sports socks and a pair of white trainers which have seen better days. There's a large bandage wrapped around her right calf.
A shortish, plump woman seemingly in her early twenties, Anji Kyriacou gives the impression of somehow containing more energy within her body than its size and shape would normally hold with comfort. Perhaps it's the mass of tightly curled dark hair that runs in spring-like coils down to her shoulders that suggests tension. It's held out of her light olive-coloured, round face by a headband. Her brown eyes are bright and her cheeks frame a mouth that's just that little too close to her nose for her to be thought of as beautiful, especially when taken into conjunction with her rather stout form. She might qualify as pretty, though, at least in the eyes of some. She's generally smartly dressed in blouse, jacket and either neat female trousers or a skirt, depending on whim and weather. If encountered in working hours, she may well be wearing a namebadge on her lapel with her name and the St. Claire University logo.
An old and basic, but clean, apartment. The front door opens straight into the living area, at the far side of which a door leads through to a small kitchen. A side wall leads into a small passage off which may be found a bedroom, a bathroom, and a large cupboard (or if you prefer, a small storage closet). The bedroom and living room walls are covered with posters of various vintages and subjects; for instance, a gothboy holding a guitar aggressively is juxtaposed with a New York Gay Pride advert from three years ago, and alongside these two is a cute blow-up photograph of a raccoon perched atop a garbage can. Notable furniture includes a fold-out sofa-bed in the main room, as well as a large blue corduroy bean-bag strategically placed near the television and music centre, while the bedroom boasts a rather full clothes rail and a double bed whose bedspread is embroidered, seemingly by hand, with the image of a reclining striped cat.
What passes for early afternoon peace in this neighbourhood is violently disturbed by a fierce pounding on the door to Anji's apartment. The knock has a familiar, peremptory, aggression to it, and as it's accompanied by a shout of "Anji? You in?", it might just..._just_...be possible to work out who's outside.
The door opens a mere crack. "I'm only in if you promise not to smash me," Anji says though the crack a little cautiously.
"Smash you?" KL replies, curiously. "Why? What have you done?" She stops banging, obviously, and steps back, looking a little hurt. "But no, I won't smash, bash, crash or hurt you in any way."
Anji slips the chain and opens the door fully. "You just sounded a bit excited," she says as she ushers the ahroun inside. "I wanted to be sure, that's all. Can I get you anything?"
The Ahroun steps into the room. "I just didn't know if you were in. You might have been listening to music or something. And yes..." She turns and stares at Anji. "Anji, the situation is desperate, and I need your help. I can't solve it without you."
Anji's eyebrows ascend towards her curly hairline. "You know I'll help if I can. What's gotten you in such a flap, sweetheart?"
KL turns around very slowly, and points to her bottom. The lyrca of her cycling shorts has 'gone', it's saggy slightly see-through, and there's a hole in it. She turns back. "I've run of clothes. I can't get this mark off this T-shirt, my shorts have gone, my jeans are more hole than fabric and my other T-shirt fell apart in the wash. I'm not a clothes horse, but it's reached the point of stupidity." She folds her arms across her chest. "So, will you help me? I really _really_ can't do this without you."
Anji actually laughs with relief. "Oh, KL! I thought you were gonna ask me to drive the Goddessmobile as the getaway car in a bank raid, or hack into the Pentagon's computers and launch a nuclear missile. Hmmm..." She eyes the ahroun. "I'd give you some of my spares, but they'd hang off you like a tent, you skinny little puppy, you. Okay, do you feel like a clothes shopping expedition?" And she gives an anticipative grin.
KL nods. "That's the point. I can't do that by myself. Well, other than in Walmart and they don't let you try anything on and..." she pauses. "I don't just want a new set of jeans and stuff. Well, I do, but... and I know I'm being weaverish, but I want some proper _clothes_." She opens her palm, which up until now has been folded up tight. "I've got about 200 dollars, do you think that's enough?"
Anji, not without caution, reaches out to pat KL on the shoulder. "Hon, that's not being weavery, it's being /female/. Even you girls need to let yourselves go in for a bit of retail therapy now and again. Good for you, it is. Honest!" she chirrups. "And two hundred bucks'll get you some nice duds, and to spare."
The Ahroun doesn't look convinced, but gives a little shrug. "I met Jessica, by the way." she says, waving a casual hand. "She's got a very large car."
"I saw it," Anji confirms. "I should think she needs one with that great big mutt of hers. Do you know if she's sorted herself out a place yet?"
"She said she had a house _and_ a shop." KL says, as if this was in some way either impressive or a scathing condemnation. "I didn't see a large dog, though." She pauses, and thinks. "I think she's OK, though. I sat on the bonnet and she didn't say anything." She looks down at her clothes. "What do you think we should get? I mean... where sells the right sort of clothes?"
Anji nods. "Big big dog. I actually wondered if it was..." She mimes a small figure growing into a larger one. "Okay," she says then, in a businesslike way. "We need sensible things, cold weather gear, nothing /too/ girly, but... not too butch either?" she asks, not quite sure of herself.
The Ahroun blinks a couple of times. And then doesn't reply, but gazes out of the window for a moment, then quietly sits down on the sofa, draws her knees up to her chest (putting her feet on the couch) and stares at the floor.
Anji colors a little, evidently conscious of saying something tactless. "In style, I mean," she murmurs belatedly.
KL looks up, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. "I don't..." she shakes her head very slowly. "Everyone assumes..." she tries again, before faltering. "And I just don't _know_." The last word comes out almost as a wail.
Anji takes that one like a car on a speed bump, a brief jerk and an expression of surprise. She bounces onto the sofa next to KL and slips one arm round her. "Oh, honey. At your age, not knowing is no surprise. If you are, you're in the right tribe. And if you're not, you're /still/ in the right tribe," she says with a very mild smile. "You full moons get it all the time, I'm sure. All anger and fight, instead of being pretty-girly like they try to teach us to be."
"I've never been pretty." KL says. "There were photos of me, from when I was small and Mum and Dad made me wear pink dresses with frills and lace. And I have an expression as if I've trodden in some dog shit." She grins a little. "Most boys make me so fucking angry that I just can't work out whether or not I'm attracted to them or not. And I don't know what I'm _supposed_ to feel." She shakes her head. "I'll figure it out, I guess. So, clothes?"
Anji gives a sympathetic smile. "You never again have to wear anything you don't want to. You can wear jeans and boots the rest of your days if you like. And it doesn't stop you liking boys, either, if you want to. It's not what you wear that dictates who you sleep with. Hell, you can keep a foot in both camps like me, even... Now, clothes?"
"Well, on one level, I need clothes that I can run about, fight the wyrm, trudge through streets and so forth. That's quite easy, I guess." KL cheers up fairly quickly. "But it would be good to have something nice as well. Something that I could wear to... well, I don't know. Make an impression that isn't 'look what the dog dragged in'."
Anji nods, understandingly. "Utilitarian but not drag. Maybe..." She looks up and down at the ahroun. "You've got your waistline on your side, hon, which is more than I ever will. Some kind of leggings or culottes, maybe, but a slim-fit to show you're in trim. Not a girly color, or it'll clash with those boots. Black goes with most everything, of course. Let's go see what the stores have?"
"Sure." KL bounces up, then stops and scratches her thigh. "You do understand why I need you along with me, don't you? I should warn you if not." She looks at Anji with one eyebrow raised, hand on hip.
Anji pauses thoughtfully. "Surely not because you plan to buy so much you need the car to carry them...?"
KL shakes her head. "Because shop workers won't talk to me. If I ask about sizes, they won't have it. If I ask to try something on, all the changing rooms will be out of action. If I want it in a different colour, they won't have anything at all and could I now please fucking well leave. So you're going to have to do most of the talking."
Anji clicks her fingers. "Course. I'm used to you, I forget how you freak most normos. Don't ya worry, I'll sweet talk them all and you just blend into the background till it's time to try the things on."
On their arrival back in the apartment, KL drops plastic bags on the floor without a care at all, and slumps down onto the sofa. "I can't believe how tiring that was. Or how expensive. I know I said I wanted to spend it all, but fuck me. I could live for a month on what I've just spent." She looks over it all. "Still not sure about the shoes. And that assistant was _so_ laughing at me. But..." A pause, and she looks up at Anji. "Thanks, you know?"
"Laughing, nothing," Anji insists. "She was giggling because she was all nervous and didn't know what to do. I wish women didn't giggle when they get scared. I do it myself sometimes." She crosses to boil some water up. "We deserve to put our feet up and have a hot drink -- it's cold out in the streets today. And then you have to try some of those new outfits on. Your feet will love you for those espadrilles after years of nothing but combat boots."
This gets a very wary look. "I mean, they're comfortable and everything, but I'm not convinced they're me. I mean, what happens the first time I run through a puddle? Still, I could fight in them, I guess. Though boots hit harder." The Ahroun slumps back in her seat. "You've spoken to Leslie more than I have. Any idea what she's like as a Philodox?" There's a studied casualness to this, a throw-away comment that is obviously very carefully thrown.
"No NO. Just don't run through puddles wearing them..." Anji grins. "Leslie? She strikes me as pretty damn smart and conscientious, but I wouldn't know what her actual judgments are like, for obvious reasons. Why, are some of the boy garou cross with her? I know she was saying most philodox here are male..."
"No. Nothing." KL says, unconvincingly. "I'll ask her myself." She looks down at the floor and shifts in her seat. "Right. OK. No puddles." KL puts out a hand and looks through the bags, peering into each of them. "Have to sort out getting some of these dedicated."