Time/Date :It is currently 07:49 Pacific Time on Fri Apr 4 2008.
Place : Hayden's Bike Shop(#4112RJh)
Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 40 degrees Fahrenheit (4 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the south at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.99 and falling, and the relative humidity is 86 percent. The dewpoint is 36 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.)
Moon Phase :Currently the moon is in the waning New Moon phase (9% full).
Hayden's Bike Shop(#4112RJh)
This is an old brick building, built just after World War II, and the 'sales' area itself here in the first floor hasn't changed all that much. The wall nearest the street is brick, with two fairly small windows on either side of the door, which, while once glass, has been replaced with a sturdier wooden door. The floors are hard-wood, in serious need of a buffing, except back towards what used to be the stockroom, where the floor is simply concrete, in need of painting. A single counter runs down one side, presumably where cash registers used to be. The place hasn't been used for years, but it appears as though someone is starting to clean the place up.
Now in her early twenties, KL has lost much of the teenage stroppiness that characterised her younger self. It has been replaced by a slower burning, though still as fierce, intensity. She is still on the short side, standing perhaps 5'2" tall in her bare feet, and has a slightly built and slender frame, with a tight musculature that speaks of plentiful exercise. When she moves, she displays a compact grace, poise and balance. Even if she still occasionally slouches.
She has long, mid-brown - uncharitable people would say mousy - hair which she usually wears in a long plait that falls down between her shoulder-blades, secured at the top and the bottom with wide black leather bands. She's really quite attractive, perhaps not a pin-up, but far from ugly, with a cute upturned nose and wide expressive hazelnut eyes. There's something off-putting about her, though - she has an aggressive posture, a tendency to glare at people - particularly people she doesn't know, and an air of barely-restrained violence.
She 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.
Unless obscured by clothing, visible across her throat is a fairly horrendous scar, an angry stripe running from the bottom right corner until it terminates just below her jawline on the left side. More likely to be obscured is the scar in the small of her back, faded and older, but just as horrible.
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.
The young man before you is certainly notable, in that he certainly won't be winning any beauty pageants. Standing tall at 6'5" and looking to weigh something on the order of 200 pounds, Urick is in no way a delicate flower, the tangle of black hair hanging nearly to his waist looking capable of devouring small children or wayward pets. Yellowed and crooked teeth sometimes wink in a feral grin from within a beard that matches his hair, itself hanging about halfway to his belt. While his eyes are a normal enough brown in color, the left one is crowned by a truly horrid looking scar that traces back around the man's head, apparently having taken the top half of his left ear with it in some past squabble.
For clothing, he wears an outfit that, if not pretty, is certainly serviceable. Heavy jeans encase his legs, held up by a plain leather belt and hanging low enough to conceal the laces of a pair of battered combat boots. His torso is covered in what was probably a truly offensive red t-shirt at one point, but time and wear have reduced whatever logo it may have sported to a slightly off-color patch on the chest. Over this he wears a heavy leather jacket of the sort that motorcycle enthusiasts tend to sport, its surface scuffed and dull, marred in multiple locations by old rents and scrapes.
Standing 5'5 and with a lean physique, Brooke carries herself like someone who knows she is armed. Her hair is long, dark and wavy- hanging well past shoulder length. Her light green eyes dance with a bold mischief that is almost fae like, and her smile is full of confidence. She moves with a steady, sure gait, but not one that is overly rigid or strict; she's fluid, and graceful, but with a strength about her as well. One suprising thing about this woman, is that despite a body and appearance that is fully feminine, her hands are strong and callused, the kind that speak of hard physical work.
She dresses in form fitting casual attire. Jeans, tank tops, leather jackets, boots and the like. While the clothes work to show off her form, they do not limit or overly inhibit her motions or actions. She also wears a bronze pendant that is in the shape of a crescent moon.
It's raining lightly this morning, so the garage has become a much needed refuge for not one, but two bikes. Urick's bike is the one on the rack being given a tune up by the kin woman, and the second bike is a Harley Softtail. One that is not unfamiliar to the streets of St. Claire. Brooke is covered from elbow down in grease, and a sheen of sweat touches over brow and temple as the pair work on the bike. "Yeah, the weather around here is shit for riding. Mostly because it changes so fast and the forecast is never right. Where were you before this? You mighta told me, but I can't remember."
Urick is mostly handing Brooke tools and sometimes holding pieces for her to work on. Well, and admiring the view. He's as male as the next man, after all. "I don't mind it too much, but it's a bit damp, aye." He grins through his beard, reaching over the girl's head to help her tighten down a connection, "Came in most recent from Portland. Been all over. Started in Kentucky, though that seems like... hell, forever ago."
Brooke grins a little, "Yeah, funny how time does that. One day it's 'just yesterday' and the very next it's years ago." She lets out a soft grunt as she pulls a bolt tight, "Thanks." A shake of her head puts hair back over her shoulder, "So I found a place. Two bays with lifts, counter, bench and it's old. One of those places that's got a house above it. Signing paperwork for it next week."
"I understand the weather's better on the coast," comes a female voice, from the garage door. KL is leaning up against the frame, wearing the mid-length belted leather coat Brooke gave her, and - for the first time in history - wearing a pair of shades, of the rounded Lara-Croft-like variety, which she's peering over.
Urick laughs, "Yeah, does that. And if you need help movin' in..." Of course, then the Glasswalker breaks off as a new voice intrudes, and he turns to look over at KL, one hand still leaned against the bike up on the rack, one eyebrow raised in inquiry. He'll let Brook handle the introductions, it seems.
Brooke turns to look back and grins. "Hey babe. Come on in, meet a friend of mine." She stands up and wipes her brow with her forearm, by some miracle not smudging grease from wrist to face. A rag is taken up and she gives Urick a little nudge. "She's Greek. Sorta." The garage is empty save for the two bikes. The one off to the side is polished well and seems to be in exceptional working condition, and there is something that KL would find familiar about it. Like, as if she'd seen it somewhere else - like the Brownstone's basement.
"Yours?" KL asks, blinking behind her shades at the second bike. "I've seen it before." She looks at Urick. "Hi," she says, offering a hand. "I'm KL." It's friendly enough, but there's an intensity about her eyes - even part-obscured - that's difficult to mistake, and is slightly offputting.
Urick grunts at the nudge, his grin coming back as he reaches out to take KL's hand in an easy grip, "Urick. And if you're friends with Brooke, that's a mark for you already." Something, perhaps instinct, keeps the large male's eyes from meeting KL's, though he otherwise isn't flinchy. Just not attempting to be dominant through body language.
Brooke chuckles, "Garage is empty if you two wanna get into more formal butt sniffing, and no KL, not technically mine. But definitely in my care. A friend left it in my charge when she started travelling abroad." She grabs a towel and finishes wiping off her hands with it. "How goes things?"
The Fury's mouth curves into a smile. "Unless Brooke has taken leave of her senses, then a more correct thing for me to say is that I am KL Cole, Rises-Like-Phoenix-From-Rage's-Fire, Fostern Ahroun of the Black Furies, formerly packed under wolverine as part of HAVOC and Elder of the Furies of the Hidden Walk." She reels all this off deadpan, and then has another look at the bike. "Signe!" she exclaims, the penny finally dropping. "I remember seeing her ride it." A considering look. "On the one hand, it's weavertech on wheels. On the other hand, I've often wondered what it would be like to have something big and powerful..." her voice trails off, thankfully avoiding the double entendre that was coming.
Urick grins back, taking his hand back to tug his forelock, "Ma'am. Urick Garret, called Hunts-the-Storm, Cliath Ahroun of the Glasswalkers, currently Anruth. Though I've been trying to help out." Oooh crap, the Fuy elder. And though there's a bit of nervousness to the Walker now, it's more like someone keeping an eye on a potentially skittish venomous animal than actual fear. Furies make him twitchy.
Brooke looks toward KL first and puts a finger to her nose. "Right on the button. Havoc huh? That sounds familiar to me too actually, that /was/ Signe's pack, wasn't it? And what's with formerly?" She watches the introductions go back and forth with a smirking grin. "God that politics annoys me. I'd never have made it as a furball."
KL nods. "Yes, Signe was my Pack Alpha for a bit." She shrugs. "My last packmate got kicked out of the Sept," she says to Brooke, "and there's a lack of people that I'd want to pack with who'd be appropriate. The only one with the right sort of fire hates me, I think. And it annoys me too. I just want to hit things." She raises an eyebrow, and looks at the Walker. "Well, good to have you in St. Claire," she says. "Are you planning on staying around?"
Urick snorts and makes a face at Brooke, "It's not politics." At least, not to him it isn't. Rolling his eyes a little, he glances back down to the Fury elder, "I'm not sure just yet, ma'am, though I think so. I try to go where I'm useful, y'know?"
Brooke waves a hand, "Well I don't know a better term to use for it. Or maybe I just don't buy into dominance. That could be it too. But hey, I don't have to right?" She smiles brightly and then moves toward the bike. "I met Signe before she headed south. Haven't heard from her since though." The motorcyle is eyed fondly, "Still, she'll be back someday and that bike will be waiting for her."
The Fury Elder puts her head on one side, looking at the Walker. "You're big enough, and you've got enough scars to suggest you're useful in a fight. I think we could use you." She looks back at Brooke. "Are you still up for that trip to the coast? The baby books say I'll start to show soon, and being elder's changing me a bit. I want one last chance to be really fucking bad."
Urick outright grins at KL's verdict, and if he were in lupus his tail would be wagging. But then he blinks and his eyes drop to the Fury's waist reflexively. Oh. Huh. "I do what I can, ma'am. Just let me know if there's anything I can help with." Don't act protective, that makes them bite sometimes.
Brooke laughs a little, "Urick's a keeper KL. I like him." She grins and nods at the bearded man, "I think I might throw some steaks out back and see if he keeps coming back around." She nods to KL then, "Yeah, I am game. When you wanna go? I got some papers to sign next week for the shop, so, hell. Could go anytime this week. Moon's thin enough."
KL looks enthusiastic at this. "Whenever you're ready. I've maybe got something to do tonight, but after that, I'm as free as a bird. Until the moon gets fat again, or someone wants something." She looks at Urick. "Yeah, I think you're right. You can just call me KL, though." A smile at the Walker, then her attention is back on the kin. "Though you're going to have to come up with a way to be bad that doesn't involve alcohol, drugs or smoking. I'm banned from those."
Brooke smiles and nods. "Let me clean up here and finish with Urick's bike. You wanna stick around and we can talk about route and stuff?" A grin is given to Urick as he buries his attention into cleaning up his bike. "Actually. We could go hit the Rat and Raven, c'mon. Urick can come if he wants, or hang out here and finish up."
KL moves back to the door. "If you think I'm getting all greasy, you've got another thought coming," she says, and then adds a "*here*" with a coy smile. "Rat and Raven sounds good, and we can look at a map on a table then, might be easier." She leans back up against the door frame, waiting for the kin to be done.
Rat and Raven Main Room(#2828RJM)
A relaxed atmosphere characterizes this room: less rowdy than a bar, less formal than a restaurant, the pub is filled with a friendly hubbub that spills out from tables and the bar itself. Several tables are scattered across the floor, each with room enough for two or three people at a time to walk between them. The tables are a dark wood, kept clean by the waitresses bustling around to accept orders. The patrons range from low twenties to their mid-fifties, or thereabouts, both male and female. Paintings decorate the wall, one each of the 'mascots' of the bar, a rat to the left of the door, a raven to the right, both depicted with a nobility not commonly offered to, at least, the rat. The other paintings include a three-masted ship, sails spread to the wind, that matches the tiny ship in a bottle behind the bar.
In the Rat and Raven, KL manages to snag a booth without having to glare at anyone until they moved, which has left her in a seriously good mood, leaning back on the seat, a smile playing around her lips. "So," she says. "Where're we going, and what are we doing?"
"Well, we're taking the Chevy, so that makes it easier. Any place in particular you want to see? National Parks, or cities, head down to San Fran and hit the gay bar strip?" Brooke grins widely at that. "I betcha that the butches down there wouldn't even flinch at you. Course, they'd wanna put you on your back too."
The Fury raises an eyebrow above her shades. "I'd like to see them try," she says. "I've got a couple of old friends down in San Fran, from when I was down there four years ago," she says. "Be good to show them what a success I am." She shakes her head. "I just want to go somewhere that isn't here, isn't St. Claire. Isn't somewhere I have to be in charge." She looks intently at Brooke. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happier than I've ever been. But fuck, I want to blow off some steam. It's been intense, the last couple of months. And I want to be really fucking bad." And there's the danger there, the edginess. The sense that there's really not much in the way of a limit to how bad she's prepared to be.
Brooke raises her eyes at this, "What kind of fucking bad? Keeping you away from booze, drugs and the like means you're cutting out half of the bad ass percentile. If you mean you wanna live it up, then I say we had down the coast. Go to San Fransisco, live it up, tire ourselves out, then stop in Chico on the way back and mellow. Get the smell of city off you before you come home."
KL nods, "Sounds good to me," she says, pondering. "I'm thinking that's going to take about a week, all told? So we should set off sooner rather than later. And yeah, no beer sucks, but..." she shrugs. "Only intending to be pregnant once." She pauses, pondering something. "Can you think of any conceivable use for being able to hold a handstand for ten minutes?" she asks. "It's just, I ended up bragging about being able to do that, and then I couldn't think why it was important."
Brooke smirks at this, "Well, you wanna go down on someone while they're standing up, and get the favore returned at the same time? Yeah, that's conceivable use. What made you think of that though? I think you just like people to know how great you are. Got that full moon ego. Needs stroking."
The Fury laughs out loud at this, and then looks at Brooke. "Yeah, I've got an ego. And yeah, I need stroking occasionally," she says, her grin becoming mischevious. And then she goes quiet. "I think I'm like anyone," she says. "I want to be loved and appreciated. I'm just harder to love than most, and less willing to make compromises to acheive it."
Brooke nods her head a little, "So you gotta take it where you can get it, or start making more compromises. I've found that some compromises I start off thinking hell no, and as time goes by I loosen up and come to find I was being an idiot of a hardass. I think you're loved though KL. I mean, not in the cuddle up under a fleece kinda way. But, yeah."
"And also," KL says, "I was, like, seriously repressed. Not by other people, but by my own...temper." She darts a glance around, checking they aren't being overheard. "If I want to express my sexuality, *however* I want to express it, should be OK." She takes off her shades, for a moment. "And if occasionally I want to use it as a weapon, as a method of influencing and controlling people, then I think that's OK too." She cocks an eyebrow. "So, yeah, let's get into your beautiful car, let's wind the windows down and turn the stereo up and just drive."
Brooke studies the other with a wide grin, "Hey, I use it all the time as a weapon. And of influence. Just remember, sometimes what you're flaunting has to be sincere, or else it's -only- a weapon." She stands up then and grabs the map. "So, local drive here today, or what? How about up into the mountains, make a day of it."
"Well, I had a busy day of shouting at people planned," KL says, with a grin, putting her shades back on. "Just get me back to the house by evening. I have a man with lots of money taking me dancing." She grins at the kin. "Vertically. To begin with."
Brooke laughs at that, nodding her head and getting up to fetch the keys. "Nice leather by the way. Looks good on ya. Would look better on my floor, but..."
"It might be my favourite thing in the world at the moment," KL says, quietly. "Well, second only to my bow." She looks challengingly at the kin. "And you have *no* hope of getting me on my back, woman. I am *so* too quick for you."
Brooke smiles at that, "Don't challenge me girl, you know I can't pass up a challenge." She laughs as she makes her way out the door and toward the car.