Time/Date :It is currently 19:05 Pacific Time on Fri Dec 21 2007.
Place : Farmhouse
Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 38 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.39 and steady, and the relative humidity is 85 percent. The dewpoint is 34 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius.)
Moon Phase :Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (83% full).
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 A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall.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.
Sometime over the last couple of years, a teen girl with a poor attitude and a hair-trigger temper has grown up, and matured into a young woman. With a poor attitude and a hair-trigger temper. KL is a little over five-foot tall - no late growth spurt for her - and slimly built. She moves quickly, and is rarely still for any length of time. Her natural balance and co-ordination are clearly evident in her movement, but any hint of grace is smothered with her air of irritation, hostility and restrained aggression. She manages to turn even simple activities - like ordering fries - into not particularly subtle attempts to provoke fights.
Her mousy-brown hair hangs loose around her shoulders, the front falling to frame her face. Her hair looks like it has been cut recently, and by someone with at least a little skill. She's really quite attractive, perhaps not a pin-up, but far from ugly, with a cute upturned nose and wide expressive hazelnut eyes. However, any level of appeal her physical appearance might have is swamped by the anger in her gaze and the sullen set of her mouth. She stares at people - particularly people she doesn't know - with a cold fury, as if trying to decide exactly which way to kill them.
KL has pale skin decorated in two places - on her left upper arm is a largish tattoo of something that looks a little like a bear, with its jaws spread wide and slaver falling in droplets. It has the words "No Mercy" written with gusto beneath it. On her right shoulder-blade, if visible, is a second tattoo, two-inch-square, of a winged horse. There isn't 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.
She is wearing a pair of blue jeans that look brand-new, and have a designer label clearly visible on the rear, a pair of combat boots that also look new. On her upper half she is sporting a rather snazzy black leather jacket over a clean new white t-shirt.
Around her neck hangs a pendant, an oval disk made of some kind of bone. It looks like it's been decorated with carved designs, which are somewhat hard to make out on casual inspection. The pendant is hung on a leather thong.
Somehow the multiple piercings of eyebrow, ear, and nose manage to add to, rather than detract from, the appearance of this dark-skinned young man. His blue-purple hair falls in fine ringlets to his shoulders, swaying with the light bounce to his step. He's almost too pretty, almost beautiful, and yet still manages to exude masculinity. His accessories add an air of rebellion, and make him seem younger than he might otherwise appear. Still growing, his lanky form already reaches more than six feet.
His nearly black eyes seem ancient, holding both wisdom and sorrow far beyond years. His step is generally light, though there are times when his shoulders sag.
Kavi's clothes have recently altered dramatically. Gone are the t-shirt and jeans, replaced with more stylish attire. He's currently wearing a button down polo of a deep red. The thin cotton sits well on his narrow frame, accentuating the angles of underlying musculature. Beneath, he wears a pair of five pocket leather pants, sleek black and tight enough to be interesting. The pants are held with a wide belt and his feet are adorned with a pair of black and red, six-eye Doc Martens. Though it doesn't quite fit with the rest of the ensemble, he generally wears a leather biker jacket over the rest. It's old, probably older than the man who wears it, and though the length is right, it's clearly designed for someone much wider than he.
Evening finds Kavi sitting on a chair in the corner of the living room at the farmhouse. His guitar is on his lap and he's bent over it a little as he works on a tricky chord change. Fingers go back and forth over the same sequence, and then move on. His voice can be heard, though faintly, even outside as he sings a song not heard here, before.
Obviously, what every good song needs is the accompaniment of some percussion. In this case, it's the slamming open and then closed of the front door, followed by the rhythmic thud of boots on flooring. Alerted by the music, a brunette, barely over five feet tall, peers around the entry to the living room. Displaying a perfect disregard for etiquette, she interrupts the song with a "Who the fuck..." her voice trails away. "Wow," she breaths, as her eyes fix on Kavi.
Kavi stops playing at the slamming of the door. When the brunette appears from behind the door, he stills the strings, his palm flat against the taut wire. He swallows as he looks up and then makes a couple failed attempts at speech. Finally, he rises, setting the guitar aside. "I... I'm Kavi. Bhaskar." He takes a step forward, starting to extend his hand, but something stops him and he stills with his hand drawing back to his hip.
"I'm...um...hi...I'm KL," KL says, "and I've come to...steal some milk." She smiles, a bit oddly, eyes never leaving the Glasswalker. "Are you...um..." she pushes a stray hair back behind her ear. "Is there more? To your introduction. Not milk." A step inside the room. "You play guitar."
Kavi swallows again, studying the woman closely, though his eyes barely touch her face and never once reach her eyes. As he does a subtle tension appears in his shoulders. "I, um. Ringtone," he answers after a moment. "Galliard of the Glass Walkers."
"KL Cole, Escapes-From-Money, Cliath Ahroun of the Black Furies, packed under Wolverine as part of HAVOC," KL says. Her words are slightly wooden, as if it's a well-rehearsed mantra that she's barely paying attention to. "So...um...are you new around here? I've been away for a...nice pants...while." She brushes her hair back again.
That subtle tension in his shoulders ceases to be anything related to subtle and his jaw sets. He takes a step back, bumping into his chair in his haste. "Oh," he says, planting his gaze on the floor.
"What?" KL demands, hesitancy gone. "What the fuck did I say?" She takes a couple of deliberate steps and folding her arms across her chest, her gaze hardening and her own jaw setting to match Kavi's.
The Glass Walker seems to be expending a great deal of effort to control his breathing. If she catches the flicker of a glance toward her, there's anger in it, but he keeps his gaze purposefully low. "Nothing. Sorry," he says through the breaths.
"Oh yeah, like fuck am I going to fucking well believe that," the Fury spits. "Now fucking well tell me what the fuck the matter is, or I will fucking well drag you out to the fucking barn and fucking make you. Either you've got something against me, my tribe, my auspice or my totem and I fucking well want to hear what it is."
Kavi's breathing catches, and he almost chokes for just a second. He gives a swift shake of his head and it seems that he tries to step back further though the chair prevents it. "I... Nothing. Nothing."
"Fucking spineless piece of shit coward," KL throws at him, closing another couple of steps, so that she's maybe six feet away. "Won't even tell me why the fuck you're so fucking defensive."
Kavi looks up sharply, then, and the anger pushes aside the fear and pain she might also see in his eyes. "You don't even know me!"
"Yeah?" KL says, mockingly. "So fucking what?" She takes another step, the angle such that she's looking up at him slightly. Her eyes seem almost misted, as if there isn't much in the way of intelligence piercing through the veil. "I can see perfectly fucking well that there's something about me you don't fucking well like."
Despite the advantage that height gives him, Kavi turns his gaze away from the Fury, turning his whole head to the side as his gaze shifts back to the floor. His breath is rapid and shallow, and he seems just barely in control.
"Fucking well *speak*," the angry Fury demands. She slowly unfolds her arms, her hands clenching into fists. There's a pause, and then a hand flashes out - not to attack Kavi, but instead to grab for his guitar, resting innocently where he lay it down.
Eyes suddenly wide and wild turn to KL, and a slight tremor runs down his arms with the intensity of the tension there. "Don't!" he shouts, then quieter, more dangerous, "Put it back."
KL hefts the guitar. "Oh, so *now* you can fucking well talk. So, tell me why you fucking well hate me so fucking much, and no instruments get hurt." The grin that accompanies this is...not pleasant.
"I... I... I don't... I don't know you." Kavi's words are slow, broken, and his attention is focused exclusively on her hand where it holds his guitar. The tremor becomes a small shake, not just in his arms, but throughout his body.
The Fury's hand tightens around the neck of the guitar. "Yeah, right, and I don't fucking well know you, but I know two fucking things. One, when I gave my fucking introduction, you reacted like I said I was a black fucking spiral fucking dancer. And two, you really don't want this fucking banjo damaged. So fucking well tell me why." Oddly, she's calmed down slightly - there's more control, if not fewer swearwords in this.
Kavi drops to his knees, though his eyes remain on her hand. The change in angle lifts his chin, exposing his throat, though it's not clear if that was intentional. His breath shudders, and his answering words are whispered rasps without any real volume. "Stop. Please stop. I'll talk. Just... no more."
KL blinks and takes a step back. She sets the guitar down very carefully, back where it was before. There's still a quiver in her muscles, but everything is under control. If anything, there's a slight air of embarrassment. "No more," she says, eventually, throwing herself into a seat with the kind of violence that, had it been unleashed on the guitar, would have resulted in a fresh supply of firewood. As it is, the chair easily defeats her clumsy attack, and stays in one piece. "Tell me." There's an odd note - a softness in her voice - that *really* wasn't there a moment ago.
Once the guitar is safe, Kavi crumbles. From his knees, he falls forward, bending around himself and drawing his arms in tight. He rocks slightly from his hips, and his whispered voice is nearly lost in his knees. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I... can't. I... can't."
The Fury slides out of her seat, and crouches down next to Kavi. "I'm sorry," she says. "Luna is fat, and I get...you know." She goes to put a hand on his shoulder.
The shriek in response is piercing. As beautiful as his voice is when he sings, it is terrible in his pain. The cry is wordless and terrified. He doesn't just jerk away from her touch, he launches himself bodily from her. He never reaches his full height as he runs to the front corner of the room, farthest from either door. There he crouches, cowering, but keeping her in sight.
KL looks confused, and a bit hurt, a hurt that visibly transforms into anger. "What the fuck?" she says, about half-angry, half-puzzled. She stands up stiffly. "I don't know what the *fuck* is wrong with you," she says, stabbing a finger in his direction, "but you are fucked in the head." She makes a move towards the door. "Maybe when the moon is slim, we could try this conversation again, from the start."
Kavi remains where he is, shaking from head to foot with his back to the corner of the room. He makes no effort to speak.
The Fury huffs annoyedly, and heads into the kitchen, where the fridge can be heard opening and closing, as she carries out her milk-stealing mission.
Kavi shifts just a little, so he can see the doorway through which she disappeared, but makes no other attempt to engage her. His shaking remains, and the rocking returns.
Having got her milk, KL exits the farmhouse through the sliding back door, paying no further attention to the Glasswalker huddled in the front room.