The library's ground level is one large room punctuated by even rows of pier columns that confidently hold the weight of the upper floors. The building is old but solid, its lath and plaster walls dark with age. Here and there some of the plaster has worn off to reveal the wooden slats beneath. Heavy, dark grained and decorated mahogany wainscoting runs the length of the walls, complimented by thick, ornate crown molding along the ceiling and each of the columns. It's clear from the dilapidated condition that the building's been abandoned for decades. There is a somber, sepulchral quietness to the place, even when alive with people, that is perhaps a ghostly echo of the rigid, required silence that its wardens demanded when the library was in its heyday.
Compact is the word for him: wiry, not quite 5'6" in his bare feet, with a sense of compressed energy and imminence like a coiled spring -- or a cocked gun. Never quite still for long, balance flowing through the balls of his feet. There's a striking intensity to his narrow blue-green eyes, the colour contrasting with his fair skin and spiky copper hair; just below the left is what at first appears to be a faint mole, but closer inspection reveals as a small, long-healed scar. His features are appealing, with high cheekbones and a good jawline, but it's the confident mien and roguish smile that most often seem to draw people in.
He's in old black jeans with a rip in one knee and the cuffs half walked off, and his lack of shirt displays a small collection of tattoos. On his left arm, just below the shoulder, is a parachuting rat holding a crowbar and wearing a pair of glittery-gold star-shaped glasses; on the right side of his abdomen, about where the waistline of pants sort of act as the ground, are a pair of rats with a mortar aimed up toward the left. Both tattoos are all in black (aside from the glasses) and resemble spray-painted stencils. His back is covered by a phoenix rising from flames, smoke, and ash, in suitably fiery colours and a completely different style. A reasonably close-up look reveals a number of scars worked into the design of that one. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a pair of dogtags on a length of ball-chain around his neck; his nails were apparently painted black some time ago, since they're starting to show chips. Late teens, most likely, and when he speaks it's in a mellifluous, southern-accented baritone voice.
Standing tall about six foot five, Brom has the body of a brick wall. He obviously works out on an obsessive basis. His arms are thick and his chest broad, giving off the look of perhaps a well in shape football player. He has a pair of intense blue eyes that always seem to border on anger, and a well developed scowl.
Brom has long hair to about his shoulders, a dirty dark blonde that is typically tied up into a tight pony tail, pulled back from his head. He has a jagged looking scar along his neck that dips down into his shirt, and a few more along his arms that appear to have been made by claw marks. He tends to dress very plainly, a pair of beat up blue jeans with slashes and holes in them, a tight fitted black muscle shirt and a beat up looking leather jacket. Shit kicker boots adorn his feet and a large belt buckle with the picture of an axe on it.
Thick honey-blonde hair, styled in a poofy set of curls, rings this pretty blue-eyed young woman's head. She's in her late teens, and her hair's currently left down, though it's occasionally pinned up. She stands about five and a half feet tall, and is a little on the thin side of things, though not to an extreme. She dresses mostly in informal styles, from ripped jeans and tank tops to the occasional sundress.
Currently, she wears the former, her black tank top emblazoned with a large sequined red heart, and her jeans so ripped as to be nearly indecent. About half of the heart's sequins are missing. Her feet are clad in red strappy lightly-heeled sandals that have seen better days. She wears little in the way of jewelry, just a black wooden bracelet, a stainless steel and rhinestone mood ring, and (probably fake) gold earrings. When she speaks, a fairly thick Southern accent is evident.
Thane isn't a man who's appearance stands out much. He's caucasian of skin tone with a faint swarthiness should he stay out in the sun long enough to catch a tan. His bones are pronounced, giving him the appearance of leanness despite having a solid, even musculature that speaks of someone who's gained his athleticism through rounded activity versus focused weight training. His hair is a tawny brown in most lights and usually kept in a short style. Often, there's a good day's growth of beard on his face which seems to hide small nicks and old scars. His eyes are a mid-tone blue, often held under pensive brows.
There is a look to him, the weight of something undefined. It's like looking into the eyes of a man who has seen terrible things and was never quite was the same after. It's even more haunting considering his blind right eye is couched in scars like an attack from a bear.
Usually, he's casually dressed but cleans up when the need calls. He's never seen among the normal public in anything but long sleeves regardless of the weather, underneath showing massive scarring on on his forearms. They don't seem to restrict movement, but the oddly darkened scars are numerous like lightning bolts across his skin. Another deep slice runs at the upper portion of his abdomen.
Down the block comes the squeal of tires, followed by brakes screaming as a large black jeep skids in front of the library. Brom climbs out of the driver's seat, growling into a phone, "Jack! Thane was attacked here in the city! He looks half dead in the back seat. He said they're coming, right before he blacked out. They're coming for us!" He seems rather frantic, angry and on the edge. "We need a safe place here. Vault is compromised. Full of those white fuckers." Yanking the back door open, he reaches out with his other large arm and snags Thane (and his fang dagger) and hauls him over his shoulder. The front door to the library gets kicked open, followed by, "Hey coyotes! You here?!"
Thane is jolted into awareness by being bodily hauled out the car. Were he in any better shape Brom would likely risk a sudden mauling but he can't summon more than a hiss through his teeth. "Let me..down!" He says with exhausted indignation. The Shadow Lord looks a bit like the world's most worn out rubber chicken. He's limp and seems barely conscience and his face looks drawn and strained, complete with some wrinkles that hadn't there and a horribly unhealthy look to his lone eye like more was wrong that isn't just on the surface.
Things are rather calmer in the Library than outside. It's just Felix and Lilah in there right now, the latter sitting in the former's lap, facing him, the more effectively to get kissed. Screeching tires outside aren't a massive distraction -- it's not like it's so unusual a sound around here -- but the kicking of the door certainly is, let alone the greeting. "What the fuck?!" the Galliard asks, starting to get up; it's slightly delayed by the need to move kin, but he's on his feet fairly quickly and starting toward the entering pair. The delay lets him get a better look at them, but the initial question still seems to cover things pretty well.
"Shut up." Brom growls to Thane as he slams the door shut behind him with a kick of the door, then lumbers over to the empty bean bag chair and flops the Alpha down on to it. "Get on the horn and tell the others that was with you tonight, do not go to the woods. I think they're tracking you guys. I"ll send word back to Blitzkrieg to lock down the bawn. Thanks. I owe you." He says into the phone, then hangs it up as he shoves it into his pocket. "You." He points at Felix. "Who else is here?" He says as his wild blue eyes look from him to the kin.
Lilah smoothes out her sundress as she's moved, and she hangs back a bit as Felix heads forward. She's alert and watchful, biting at her lip a little nervously, but she's not talking just yet. She looks between Brom and Thane, though her focus is more on Thane, and it's a concerned focus.
"Yeah, me," Felix replies, checking the pair of them out with slightly narrowed eyes. "Me, Lilah, everyone else's out far's I know. An' I repeat: what the fuck? What happened? What's goin' on?"
MAIL: You have a new message from Slug.
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39 From: Slug At: Tue Apr 19 18:57:13 2016 (Conn)
Fldr : 0 Status: Unread
To : *Bone_Gnawers
Subject: Get Out
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Slug sends message through texts and other discrete means that more or less say, in coded phrases, "Fomori coming, safehouses aren't, grab your shit ( and some of mine ) and leave.
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Thane is unceremoniously dropped on a crunchy throne, but he seems just too tired to even be irritated at it. All he does is shifts and straightens up in order to rest arms on his knees. He takes in several slow and deep breaths before he speaks. "Garage is a Bermuda Triangle. Went to follow Salem, got lost. Someone talked over the earpiece, old voice, got me out." There's pauses at several points as he talks as if he needed to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. "Thought it was Jeb but didn't answer me if he was. Got me out, so went to the Vault to get a ride. Ambush. Pack worth of Spirals, one of the white Fomor." He grimaces sharply at that and his hands curl into fists. "Spirals pinned me, pasty bastard interrogated me...." He trails off then, face darkening and his posture curling up some defensively. The normally cool, collected Alpha looks really freaking spooked.
"Get your kin, get in the car out front. Congrats, you're my God damn back up." Brom says as he starts for the kitchen at a pace far faster than the bulk of a near seven foot man can move. Yanking the fridge open, he starts to unload bottles of water and grab whatever may be food in his arms. "What?! Fucking spirals?! That old voice called me on my phone, told me to come get you." He looks aorund for a backpack, then gives up and grabs what appears to be a jacket on the ground to shove the stuff into it and use it for a back pack. "What do you mean interrogated?"
Lilah winces as she listens to what Thane has to say, and looks sympathetic, particularly when he trails off like that. She must be the silent type, because she doesn't say anything just yet. Instead, she watches as Brom heads for the kitchen, and reaches into a box to pull out a few grocery bags. Beyond that, she stays out of everyone's way. The fridge, for the record, is pretty stocked at the moment, particularly with leftover tubs of mashed potatoes. Someone must REALLY like mashed potatoes. And Coke.
<OOC> Lilah says "Also, didn't exactly make clear in my pose, but she's helping clear out the fridge with those grocery bags. But trying not to bump into Brom or anything."
Felix's brows furrow at Thane's answer, eyes darkening, and he looks toward Brom, "An' you came =here=?" The implication that the Get didn't know about at least some of that possibly mollifies somewhat, or maybe he's just distracted by the buzz of his phone, which he pulls out and stares at with furious concentration for at least a full second before letting out an even more furious, "FUCK. Slug says they're comin', grab shit an' go." He's already heading for the stairs about as fast as he can move, which is... fairly fast.
"Questioned, with force." Thane says with a half-hearted growl. "Wanted to know who was on the strike team. Sold out Blue to buy time, they had no idea who he was. What that Fomor does..." He shudders heavily and crosses his arms around his chest, talking while the others move about. "Justin only got it mild. I think at one point I was an old man. One of the Spirals... he drained him to dust, skin and bone. Paralyzed. Pain like... there's not a word for it." He takes in another long breath before continuing. "Managed not to give names. He did... worse. Reversed what he did but it... it was..." He stops talking and begins to look twitchy. His nails are digging into his arms enough they may end up drawing blood. And then Felix is answering the phone and the Lord raises his head and looks... terrified. Actually terrified. He's getting to his feet but he's still not entirely stable and almost pitches over save a last minute correction.
"This is the first time I'm hearing about all of this shit. He's been half-conscious in my car. I came here because I knew you'd be here and I need muscle right now. Consider this saving your life. Salem just gave me a clean address west of the city that we're going to. No power but it has water and supplies. Tell the rest of our coyotes to meet us there and to be careful. Do not go to the caern or the bawn." Brom says in a very 'I am in fucking charge and you can deal with it' tone to his voice. "Thane, take a deep breath man. I need you to be cool. I got this. This ain't my first rodeo." With a look to Lilah, he says, "Can you handle a shot gun?"
Lilah's body is a bit stiff as she's stuffing that grocery bag, clearly a case of 'holy shit this is scary.' She pauses packing up the grocery bag at Felix's news, and immediately just starts shoving shit in the grocery bag without paying attention to what. Moldy leftovers? Sure! Hope you all love potatoes, though. For real. She doesn't stop as she listens to Thane, but she's frowning deeply as she hears what he has to say. When she's directly addressed, she nods to Brom. "Yeah, I hunted sometimes, back in Fairhope. I'm a straight shooter, but I ain't had to aim at anythin' but deer 'n stuff a'fore."
"Can you kill someone?" Brom asks the kin again with a firm, serious tone to his voice.
Swallowing thickly, Lilah nods her head. "If I gotta, I gotta." She doesn't sound thrilled by this idea, but ... she also sounds determined.
"You gotta." Brom assures her. "But most likely you aren't blowing the head off your neighbor. You'll be fine. Shooting a monster is like shooting a deer. Come on, we're loading the car up and I'm showing you my boom stick." He says as he pushes the door open, heading out. "Thane, when Felix comes down, tell him to load up. Can you walk?"
If the tone rankles, Felix doesn't show it. He doesn't directly respond at all, currently, but this may have something to do with the fact that he's not pausing on his way upstairs. There's the sound of a door, and if one listens hard, probably some muffled thunks, but the building was built to be a quiet place. It's no more than a couple minutes before he's coming down again, with more thunk this time as he's no longer barefoot. Or shirtless. He's carrying two large duffel bags, both currently somewhat over half-full and lumpy.
Thane is rigid as he tries to pull himself together enough to do his job but the Lord looks like he's gone through hell tonight and he's not got much else left in him. Close inspection would show he's shaking, though with the effort of his muscles being locked to forced rigidity or something else is hard to tell. "Yeah." He responds to Brom, eyes taking in the packing and then turns towards the door. "We need to go. Now."
Lilah nods her head firmly, licking her lips. She's not looking exactly eager to hunt monsters, but she's not shirking her duty, at least. She glances upstairs to where Felix went, frowning lightly, and then moves to go with Brom, overfull grocery bags in hand. She looks intensely relieved when Felix comes back downstairs.
Opening the back door to the jeep, Brom hefts the bags into the back as he takes them from Lilah, then reaches under his back seat and rips a sawed off shot gun off the duct taped straps that kept it hidden. He cracks the barrels to ensure it's loaded, then snaps it back with a click. He hands it over to the kin with a wide grin. "You're riding shotgun with me." He then straightens his face. "It's not a pun. You're up front with me. Felix, you're in the back with Thane." He heads back into the library with loud, thumping marches, then reaches out to snag one of Thane's arms and slides it over his shoulders. "Come on, boss. We'll get you some water and Tylenol You'll be all right."
There's no sign of trouble on the street. At least, no sign of trouble beyond the ordinary for this neighborhood. Sirens in the near distance, but heading somewhere else. The yowl of a cat. Cars. A raucous party somewhere nearby. But no white skinned monsters or charging Dancers.
Felix nods curtly to the seating arrangement, putting things into the car. The Caddy and the sound of the party both get fleetingly longing glances, but alas, neither are particularly options right now. He opens the back door to help let the battered Lord get settled in, giving a hand if needed, then gets in as well.
Thane seems to be moving well enough all considering, though he's slow and his steps too measured to be normal. He says nothing in response to Brom and has just fallen into a heavy silence as he gets into the car.
Despite herself, Lilah can't help but tensely smile at the not-a-pun. She doesn't look at the Caddy, or the party. She's looking at the shotgun for now, checking it and making sure it's of a type she can handle. Apparently it meets her needed specs, because she doesn't complain. Instead, she eyes the world around them, chewing at her lower lip nervously.
"Hey." Brom says to Lilah as he lays a heavy hand on her shoulder. "You're gonna be okay. You're in the presence of a true warrior of Fenris. If shit goes down, you get a front row seat to the assbeating I will put down on a motherfucker. Trust me, it's a great show." He says with a flash of teeth. "Get in, put your coat across your lap. I don't need a cop peeking in and seeing you hold on to Lucile." Rounding the jeep, he climbs in after he ensures the three are in the car, then revs the engine as he drives off from the library.
Felix snorts good-naturedly. "I swear there's some kinda law y'all ain't allowed to go half an hour without talkin' up how badass Get are," he says, shaking his head with a half-smile and a skyward glance. He reaches forward to rub Lilah's shoulder, "Don't worry, though, he's right, there's a shitload of asskickin' shoved in this thing right now. It'll be okay."
"Oh, I know," Lilah says, managing a tight smile. "Y'all," and here she seems to mean Brom, Felix, and Thane, rather than only the Get of Fenris, "are great at whatcha do." Her smile, albeit not her body, grow more relaxed, and she glances back to Thane and Felix before putting a jacket over her lap, as ordered. She does her best to look calm and collected. It's maybe halfway successful.
<OOC> Thane says "Suppose could relocate to this safe spot, Thane can go hide somewhere, etc? So I can sneak off then. :)"
<OOC> Thane says "We have a room to occupy or just go hunker in one of the random fallout shelters?"
<OOC> Sheogorath says "Random, I think."
<OOC> Brom says "Yah. Salem gave him an address."
<OOC> Thane says "Got a DB? If not no issue using one of the shelters just to loiter in for now."
<OOC> Brom says "Nope. It's really just one of his hidey holes. We can create a room or something. I'm going to crawl upstairs to bed now. XD But Brom would drop everyone off, tell Felix he is in charge of protecting Thane, then he'd probably head out to pick up Viv and Reed. XD Bring some muscle in."
<OOC> Thane says "Thane will be hiding under the bunk in Lupus most likely. Night night :)"
So. The ride to The Secret Place Thingie is apparently uneventful, with Lilah trying to look pleasantly casual the whole way. Nope, nothing weird under THIS jacket, Officer! There's a tenseness to her jaw, but she's doing her best. At any rate, she helps carry things into The Secret Place Thingie, if the others will let her, and Brom is probably given his shotgun back. She's *very* quiet except when directly addressed. It's a full moon, everyone's tense, and Things Are Not Good. Thankfully, it seems Coyote's given her a break, because there's no incidents with her mouthing off or speaking her mind at inappropriate times. Thane goes lupus and settles under the bed, and she watches him for a brief moment before making her way to Felix's side. Not a word.
Brom's dropped them off, telling Felix he's in charge of protecting Thane -- probably unnecessarily, since the other options are Lilah and Thane himself -- and headed out to find some backup, or something along those lines. Felix is a bit on edge, inevitably. That full moon, and he had other plans for the evening than going into hiding. He watches Thane settle in as well, and sighs as Lilah reaches him. He leans against the wall, but almost immediately pushes up straight again and starts toward the bunks. It's the top one he climbs up to, then leans down to offer Lilah a probably unneeded hand up -- more invitation than assistance.
It may be an unneeded hand, but she accepts it nonetheless, climbing up carefully. She's got on a sundress and flats-- she was probably wearing strappy heeled stuff earlier, but she's switched to flats. Somewhere, she probably has sneakers, but that wasn't exactly a priority. Lilah settles in next to him, probably against the wall if he's wanting the outer edge. Without a word, she places a hand on his chest, just a gentle, comforting gesture.
Felix does indeed guide her to the wall-side of the bed, leaving himself between her and the rest of the room,and where he can easily be between Thane and the rest of the room as well, if need be. He somewhat reluctantly takes off his jacket, hanging it on the corner of the bunk -- it's too hot today for it, and too hot in here. His boots (which he tied in the car) stay on, as does the t-shirt, for now. The touch of her hand gets a tiny smile, and he tilts his head in a little closer to hers, murmuring, "Hey."
"Hey," Lilah repeats softly, the first word she's said in quite awhile. No other words follow, but her hand lightly traces over to his shoulder, squeezing it gently. She glances to his jacket, and sets hers aside as well; she's been carrying it since the car, but hasn't worn it. She manages a tight smile, nowhere near as convincing as those she gave while outside.
Felix reaches out to toy with one of her curls, twining it around his finger as he so often does. "You okay, doll? Holdin' up a'right?"
Lilah tilts her head toward his hand as he wraps that curl, a force of habit even hiding out can't stop. His question makes her nod her head firmly, far more sure than a moment ago. "How 'bout you?" she asks, sounding concerned on his behalf.
"Ain't too terrible," Felix replies, giving her a small smile. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but. Whatcha gonna do, right?" He lets the curl boing back. "...wouldn't've minded all of this waitin' an hour or so to happen, though. An' I kinda wish I had somethin' more to do." A slight pause as he considers that, then adds, "Things that'd mean you were in danger not included. Rather be bored'n that."
Lilah brushes her thumb over his shoulders, nodding. "Whatcha gonna do?" she agrees; it's not a question. "Seems like... workin' out ain't a great idea right now. Gettin' you all tuckered out when you're lookin' out for Thane 'n all." She glances toward the bed the Alpha's sleeping under, and then quickly back to Felix. She pauses a long moment, and then simply shrugs.
Felix glances down toward that bed, as well, when she does, and then back to her, mirroring her shrug with his own. "Yeah, prolly right," he agrees, and sighs, "Prolly shouldn't do anythin' that'd shake stuff too much an' wake him up, neither. Wonder how long it's gonna be before Brom an' whoever get back, anyhow? How many folks you reckon we're gonna squeeze in here?"
Lilah nods her head to his words, agreeing without needing to speak. She suddenly tries to take one of his hands in her own, and bring it to her lips for a quick kiss. Regardless of the success of that move, she answers, "I dunno. 'rou, kin, you said there was a Corax-- hope they're a'right-- hope everybody's gonna be a'right. Seems like it could be a lot." She pauses, then admits, "I hope it's a lot. S'better than the alternative."
No trouble getting that hand, or kissing it. Felix squeezes her hand afterward, and takes a quick glance around. "I dunno. I reckon this ain't the only prolly-safe spot left. Might be better if we ain't ALL in the same place, not just for keepin' us sane. Still..." He sighs again, letting his head thunk lightly back against the bed and looking up at the ceiling. "Prolly oughtn't get too drunk, neither. I mean, could fix it if I had to, but that's kinda a waste. So. Can't do nothin' useful. Can't do nothin' fun." He makes an annoyed noise.
Tilting her head, Lilah murmurs, "Yer prolly right, 'bout this not being the only prolly-safe spot left." She purses her lips, frowning a little as she asks, "You ever seen anything like all this? Fairhope's so..." She shrugs. "Nothin' like this ever happened in Fairhope." She doesn't sound wistful, all the same-- merely matter-of-fact. When he makes that annoyed sound, she chews at her bottom lip, and then leans in to kiss his cheek. "I could read to ya. We could ... swap stories, but you'd have better'uns than I would. I'm sure we can think o' stuff t'do. Maybe not the best stuff, maybe not the fun stuff, but somethin'."
"Like this? ...nah, not really. This shit's big. I mean, LA an' NYC caerns fallin' big. They had towers too, or do, ain't positive which. So no. Not really like all this. I ain't really had to do a lotta hidin' out, not from anyone I couldn't more or less lose by hangin' across town for a while, for sure." Felix shrugs, and taps one of his boots lightly against her shoe. "Readin's maybe good. Got a couple of books in your bag, plus whatever's here. Or stories, yeah, those're interestin' too."
[...sleep.]