This old and spacious building was once a fairly large carriage barn, but has been converted first as garage, and then into something else entirely. It once had massive two-story front doors, but they've been permanently closed, and a smaller door built into them. (It seems to have been reinforced at some point recently.) The walls, too, appear to have been reinforced in some way, making them stronger and somewhat soundproof. The size of about two large rooms, the first floor is undivided. It's got wooden plank flooring, and has exercise equipment dotting its expanse, with free weights in one area on the door's side of the building, a punching bag in a corner, and other equipment scattered about. There's a rough ladder up to the second floor loft, which is carpeted, but has unfinished walls, a few dangling light bulbs, and is apparently serving as a somewhat informal bunk area. The lighting is, understandably, somewhat inadequate. The floor mostly consists of mattresses, innumerable throw pillows and bed pillows, warm bedding, and the occasional glimpse of carpet. There are a few shoes resting against the wall near the ladder; clearly, people are expected to take their footwear off once they get up here. One can peer down from the ladder-opening, or from the edge of the loft. (There's about three feet of space between the edge of the loft floor and the barn walls.) A wooden door on the upper part of the garage leads into the second floor landing of the house. There is no exit to the house from the first floor of the barn.
The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well.
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 reasonably defined musculature and 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.
Shaggy brown hair and darker brown eyes frames this man's face. Justin has a slightly tanned complexion with a hint of Puerto Rican from his mother's side, Caucasian from his father's. He has a fairly lanky build, but underneath his clothes is a body fitted with new muscle. He wears loose fitted 'destroyed' blue jeans, simple tank tops, and worn down sneakers that are about five months in need of replacement. During the cold, a thick green military jacket from his Grandpa. After a mishap with a monster, he was aged roughly five years forward and now looks like a young man in his early 20's. Now at 6'2, he has finally hit the rest of his growth spurt.
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.
This young woman stands at around five feet and four inches in height. Straight black hair is in a stylish cut as the strands of hair reach down to just below her shoulders. Soft brown eyes contrast gently with her tanned complexion, and high cheekbones and her facial structure speak of clear Native American ancestry. Her shoulders are of average width, but she has a woman's figure. A small waist, wider hips, and long legs. her arms show the scars of long healed scratches while her torso on the left side shows the scar of what must have been a savage puncture wound. Her clothing is a simple leather shirt and pants that thanksfully fit just right to cover and still provide full range of motion. Upon one hip at her waist is a small beaver pelt pouch, cinched shut with a small leather thong.
Trace stands nearly six feet in height, with a confidence and certainty to his bearing that makes him seem a little taller, but still the last vestiges of the awkward gangliness of teenagerhood as well. Five o'clock shadow frames a tanned face, hazel-green eyes under perpetually messy hair that reaches just past his ears. The man is dressed neatly, but the clothing is designed to give him ease of movement-- jeans, black leather converse shoes, and a worn leather bomber jacket that's never far from his person over a plain grey button-down shirt with a button-down collar worn with enough buttons open to see the white a-shirt underneath and the hint of a tattoo on one shoulder.
It's a small moon, but morning finds Trace in the downstairs of the garage nonetheless. The Walker has situated himself near the punching bag, where he can keep his eye on the rest of the garage, and busies himself with a series of punches. He's currently shirtless, in jeans, and barefoot. His right shoulder has some old scars, mostly covered by a tattoo of a compass star that is made out of circuitboard, and further down his right arm is an armband of bare tree branches and a few leaves.
Samantha has been curious about the new people since the moot and has made her way back to Edgewood. Of course, she's really hoping that ferrari is out front so she can mark it, but oh well. she stalks about the house and garage, the sounds of someone in the garage though gets her to peek her head in.
Trace seems intent on the punching bag, enough that he doesn't notice the arrival of the ragabash, and continues at what he's doing, pausing after a moment to bend down and grab a towel to wipe his face and neck. And then he notices her, and lifts a hand in a wave. "/Hola/."
Samantha grins as she emerges fully into the garage and starts towards the one who was punching the bag. Her hands are clasped behind her back. "Well, Hello." she offers, looking from him to the bag and back. "Those things never feel like the real thing. you know?"
There's a nod from the Ahroun. "Sometimes," Trace offers, moving over towards the nearby bench where his water bottle is, "that's better, quite honestly." He's apparently been at this a while, because he's worked up a sweat.
Samantha smirks a bit. "Maybe." One hand draws out one of her hunting knives. "I prefer these if I'm not using my teeth and claws." she explains, holding up the knife so he can see the sharp edge. "Keeps me from bruising my knuckles."
"--always had some mighty fine wine," comes floating into the garage with the sound of the loft door opening and then closing, "Singin' Joyyyy to the world!" There's a tiny pause as Felix gets far enough through the pillowed area to see that he isn't alone in the room, whereupon he grins broadly at the two of them, spreads his arms, and sings louder, "Allll the boys and girls! Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, joy to you an' me!"
Trace grins, and pulls out a gun from a holster at the back of his waistband. "I prefer this," he says, giving the antique Colt revolver a quick spin. It's a nice gun, that's for certain, though it's not quite wholly original anymore. The gun is put back into the holster, and Felix gets a wave. "Morning."
Samantha makes a face at the gun. "So crude." she says before grinning. Then her gaze looks to the singer. "Someone's sloshed!" she announces.
"If I was the king of the world, tell you what I'd do," Felix continues, advancing toward the edge of the loft, "I'd throw away the cars and the bars and the war," the last is not sung quite as well as the rest, as he's grabbing the loft railing in the midst of it and vaulting over it and down to the first floor as if he's done it many times -- which he probably has, by now. On landing he points a finger at Samantha and gives her an exaggerated wink, "Make sweet love to you." He cuts it there, saying, "If so they oughta be sharin' with me. Ain't even tipsy, just a good mornin'. 'sup, mi amigos?"
"And me," Trace notes to Felix, sounding somewhat disgruntled. He looks over at the Wendigo and shakes his head. "Mostly," he says, "I prefer the more hands-on approach, and getting my hands dirty." He tilts his head towards the punching bag. "That's just to blow off steam."
Samantha rolls her eyes at the two as she sheaths her knife. "Just find a mate if you want that sweet love or whatever." she advises before moving to find a place to sit. "You sure you're not sloshed?"
"Got one," Felix replies, "She's sleepin'. An' yeah, trust me, I know when I'm shitfaced. Like I said: ain't even tipsy. Although dependin' who went shoppin' lately that might be fixable." He looks briefly considering, despite it not even being lunch time yet. "I'd share," he adds to Trace, and glances to the punching bag as well. "Either of you usin' that? 's what I originally came in for."
Trace lifts his shoulders in a shrug and looks over at the Gnawer. "I was," he says, and then looks briefly considering, watching the other Garou with a more appraising look than previous observation. "Or if you wanted to get an actual workout in, we could spar." The Walker's usually dangerous feral grin emerges as he makes the suggestion, and there's a glance and nod to Samantha that follows. "Though I doubt that," he pauses, and mutters for a moment before telling her, "I didn't catch your name," and then continues, "she wants to 'get her knuckles bruised'."
<OOC> Trace says "There is willpower and force behind the "I didn't catch your name". It's not a suggestion."
"I'm not!" Samantha tells Felix before frowning at Trace. "I do not! I'd use my knives." she tells him before standing once more. "Samantha Greenwood, rited Wind in her Words, Fostern Ragabash of the Wendigo, scout for Deep Waters pack." Then she plops back down where she was sitting.
"Sounds like a plan," Felix replies to Trace, and then grins again, adding, "De accion. I got no issue with bruised knuckles. Or split, either. I'd need somethin' better'n what I got on me for a knife fight, though. At least against what she's wieldin'. What rules you wanna go with?"
Trace sets down his water bottle, on top of the towel, and then pulls the revolver, still-holstered, to set it on top. A moment later, and the Ahroun pulls up one pant leg slightly, unstrapping another handgun, one that's smaller than his /hand/ is, and puts that down on top as well, and then removes a hunting knife from a sheath hidden in the pocket of his jeans. That done, he offers to Samantha, as he stretches his arms out above his head, "Watch, then. Maybe you'll even learn something." A few steps forward, and he offers to Felix, "No gifts. Full contact, full speed, until submission?" The ahroun apparently doesn't mess around with fight club, evidenced by the rules he offers to the other for approval.
Samantha laughs at the ahroun. "You full moons always love your fights." she tells him, "but alright, I'll watch and wait for one of you to go full beast mode. this should be fun and interesting."
Felix empties his pockets near Trace's guns -- though not on the towel -- setting down his wallet, a fair-sized pocket knife, and the Altoids tin he keeps his smokes and lighter in. He stretches as well, then, and nods to Trace's offer. "Stickin' to Homid, or all forms?"
Trace lifts his shoulders in a shrug and ducks a nod towards Felix. "That, I'll leave up to you," he offers towards the other. "The latter could be... interesting. But the former might be wiser."
Samantha leans back a little. "He's got the, eye of the tiger, he's the cream of the crop!" she quotes before laughing a little. 'Come on already! If you're going to fight, fight. Or we can do each other's hair!"
Felix looks a bit tempted by the interesting, but nods to the addition. "Yeah, might be. Reckon given the shit goin' on overall, prolly oughta stick to Homid. A'right, then." He moves to the part of the garage floor that seems to most often see sparring, feet slightly wider apart than his shoulders and stance more notably balanced than when it's casual. He flashes Trace a rather feral grin of his own, fists coming up fairly high, closer to his temples than his chin. "'bout ready when you are."
Trace tosses his head to shove his hair out of his face, and his hands come up into fists. The ahroun moves with surprising speed, barely even nodding before he does, but he opens with a feint of jabs, followed immediately by a low roundhouse kick towards the Gnawer.
Samantha ahhs as the two finally get to it. guess the offering of doing their hair was enough to get them to fight. Oh well. At least this will be a good show.
Felix was apparently not kidding about being ready when the Ahroun was, watching his opponent closely. The feint nearly works, but the Galliard is quick; he doesn't entirely dodge the kick, but a step away from the incoming leg and slightly toward Trace lessens the impact somewhat, and he aims to catch the calf and tightly catch it between his arm and side, his other hand crossing to try to grab the back of the Walker's neck and pull his upper torso into position for a good hard high knee to the sternum.
Catching Trace's leg works, but the Ahroun's reaction is instantaneous and fueled by the speed of rage as he dodges the grab by punching Felix's arm out of the way, and lifts to turn this into another kick, twisting to kick Felix in the shoulder and free himself to land on both feet, guard raised.
Trace pages: Basically a modified butterfly-kick/flying style kick. After all, Felix gave him the opportunity.
Samantha shakes her head as she watches. This is definitely not the way she would try to fight, but then she isn't an Ahroun either.
Felix doesn't currently move quite as fast, not quite fast enough to keep his shoulder from getting kicked; he does, however, continue the movement, and as Trace hits the ground again there's a roundhouse kick there to meet him. It's the shin that's set to make contact, as opposed to the foot.
Trace grunts ever so slightly as he lurches a few feet backwards when Felix's kick makes contact, off-set, and nods. Then it is his turn to try and close the distance, moving right back in and this time, the jab and the uppercut that follows in close succession afterwards are not feints by any stretch of the term.
"Come on! You call that a hit!" Samantha taunts as she continues to watch. "I know cubs who gnaw their toys harder!"
Felix steps back and moves his hand to parry the jab -- it's only a small movement, redirecting the momentum, and this time it's =too= small. The jab still makes pretty good contact, just not exactly where it was intended -- slightly lower and further to the side on his chest. It gets a grunt as well. The block for the uppercut goes better, twisting into it so it lands on his forearm instead of his chin, and this time the Galliard IS moving with Rage-enhanced speed, continuing that twist into a punch at Trace's jaw with the other hand.
"I'll hit you, next, if--" Trace tells Samantha, but the rest of what he was going to say is cut off by the punch to the jaw. It lands. The ahroun twists with the impact, closing the distance between them even more, until he can bring his elbow down on the Gnawer's shoulder, and the movement continues into starting to grapple with his smaller opponent to wrest Felix into a front headlock. At the same time, Trace reaches to hook behind Felix's leg and perhaps pull his feet out from under him.
Samantha giggles as the words get cut off. "Pay attention to the fight!" she admonishes playfully. "Oh no, here it comes!"
It is still early in the morning and Justin had decided to head into the garage after hearing some noises from outside. In his hands is a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. "Hey guys, what's goin--.." He pauses, seeing his packmate and Trace in a fist fight, then puts the plate away to the side.
Pack> Justin says "Hey, the fuck is going on? You need me to jump in there and kick his ass?
Pack> Felix says "We're good, just sparrin'."
Felix growls at the impact to his shoulder, and his hands push quickly up between his neck and Trace's arms, aiming to push them apart and prevent the hold -- extremely fast again, clearly fueled by Rage. His hands continue upward and try to get to the back of Trace's head to pull it down in a clinch, while his weight shifts to the free leg and he lifts the other swiftly, trying to get it away from the attempted hook and the knee up hard into the Ahroun's stomach.
Trace is focused on the fight at hand, and either doesn't notice Justin coming in, or doesn't care. He doesn't move to get away from the hold that Felix starts, taking advantage of the lack of distance between them to bring his right elbow down on Felix's shoulder immediately once again. It's followed by a left hook to the Galliard's midsection, the short distance from punch to impact seeming to make the punch harder rather than anything else. The ahroun clearly seems to be enjoying the match.
Samantha is enjoying the fight emmensely but as another shows up, the ragabash gets distracted and looks over towards Justin. "Don't you dare interrupt!" she tells him. "We have to see who's the better fighter!"
Studying the pair going back and forth, Justin's eyes track the fight, then glances over to Sam. "Trace is the better fighter, he's an ahroun. It's just how it is." He says with a smirk on his face. "I got winner." He says as he cracks his neck side to side.
There is much less dodging in a clinch than out, and both of Trace's hits connect -- as he's pulled into the clinch position, the Galliard's hands on the back of the Ahroun's head, pulling down with his arms above the Walker's, mean Felix's shoulder is moving out of reach even as the blow to it is coming down. The timing means it still hits, though, and hard; there's another, more pained grunt, and it isn't helped at all by the left hook, which definitely knocks some breath out of the Gnawer. Even as the punch is being thrown, however, he's dragging Trace's head downward hard, and his knee comes up remarkably high and fast toward the Ahroun's face.
Whether it's just a matter of experience fighting or skill, Trace gains the upper hand once more. He knocks his head backwards, breaking out of the clinch position and simultaneously dodging the knee that's coming to his face. And it's this opportunity that he takes to knock the Galliard's remaining leg out from under him, dropping to the dominant knee-on-stomach position on top of Felix and pressing his hand up against the other's throat in a chokehold.
"That's not always true!" Samantha disagrees with the man. "Just because you're ahroun doesn't mean you're the best. That'll just make you cocky."
It could also be luck! Many and varied are the possible reasons that Felix finds the tables turned and sitting on top of him. He growls an unusually wolfish growl for his current form... and then laughs, closing his eyes briefly and dropping his head back against the floor of the garage. "Okay, okay. You win this one. ...THIS one."
Trace eases the pressure of the chokehold, and eases the pressure of his knee pinning Felix down, and wraps his fingers around the Galliard's neck for the merest fraction of a second in accepting the submission, and then he grins, letting go. "Don't worry, you can try again later?" he offers, grinning as he gets up and offers the Gnawer a hand up, afterwards, which is followed by pulling Felix into a half-hug. "I'll kick your ass again any time." He rolls his shoulders, and stretches, and looks over toward Justin. "As tempting as that is, I should clean up. I've got a few things need doing." The Glass Walker moves over towards the bench to claim his belongings.
Samantha frowns as the match seems to come to an end. "Well, damn. Oh well, didn't have a bet on the match, at least." she states as she relaxes back in her seat once more.
Felix accepts both the hand up and the half-hug, returning the latter with the traditional pats to go along with it. "Yeah, I'll get you next time," he mock-threatens, and as he steps away, stretches as well, giving his left shoulder a good rub and then a few extra stretches of its own. "...well, I'm about ready for breakfast, now. Work up a decent appetite."
Trace nods, and then lifts a hand in parting to all as he moves to ascend the loft ladder, presumably to that 'cleaning up' he had mentioned.
Samantha shakes her head. "You lost, so, doesn't that mean you have to get us all breakfast and not just for yourself?"
Justin gives a nod to Trace as he leaves, then picks up his plate and takes another bite of his cold eggs. "I can make something if you guys are hungry."
"Didn't fuckin' lose to =you=," Felix says, giving the ragabash a sideways look with quirked brow, "...so no. Though if it did, you'd wish it didn't. You clearly ain't seen my cookin'." He picks up his wallet and knife, slipping them back into their pockets, and then the Altoids tin, opening it to get himself a cigarette and his lighter. Justin's offer gets a grin, "Now, see, HE can cook. Yeah, thanks, J. I'm starved."
Samantha laughs at the response. "Well, it was worth a try." she looks to Justin then. "Was that a new crush I saw you with at the moot?"
"New crush? Lily? PFff. Nah. I just enjoy being a pain in her neck." Justin says with a grin as he ambles out of the garage to head back to the house. "I'll make chorizo and eggs. Give them some kick."
"Nah, she's a continuing crush," Felix stage-whispers to Samantha, and lights his cigarette, popping the lighter back into the tin and then the tin back into his pocket. He takes a good first drag, watching the smoke as he exhales it into the air, and then stifles a yawn. "Mmf. Right, let's break us some fast," he declares, following Justin out.
"Ha. Miss Kitty didn't want to sit on his lap, so things must be rocky." Samantha adds as she stands. Everyone has left or is leaving garage. Should she follow? Or go find others to poke and prod.
After heading into the kitchen, Justin opens the fridge and pulls out the eggs, as well as a few more ingredients. Humming to himself, he turns the heat on the stove. "I'm going to put a lot of peppers in this." He gives a head's up to Felix over his shoulder.
"Didn't say it was =successful=," Felix replies to Samantha, grinning, as they move kitchenward. Inside, he moves toward the fridge possibly out of habit, but only gets close enough to peer briefly over Justin's shoulder at the contents. "Sounds good," he tells his packmate, and glances thoughtfully toward the ceiling. "Gimme one sec, I'll see if Lilah's up yet. She's prolly hungry too."
Samantha moves over to the side and perches on a countertop. "Food for all!" she cheers playfully before grinning towards Justin. "Have you met Mohe, yet?"
"What, you mean the guy you are eye-fucking every time he is around you? Sure, I've met him." Justin says as he drops the ground meat into the pan, then starts to mix it up with peppers and seasoning.
Felix disappears out of the kitchen and up the stairs, and 'one sec' was something of an underestimate. However, it's not more than a minute or two before there's footsteps on the stairs again, and two sets, this time.
Lilah's holding hands with Felix, wearing the same white and black sundress she had on last night at the moot. Soooomeone forgot to pack a change of clothes. She looks mildly groggy, and she sniffs the air as the scent of Justin's cooking becomes apparent. Justin and Samantha get wide grins and a wave of greeting, though Lilah has yet to say anything.
"I'm not eye fucking him. I just fuck him when I want." Samantha retorts, sort of. She sticks her tongue out at him before looking back to the people returning. She offers a small wave of her hand. "Good morning! time to wake up and stuff your face!" she says quickly.
"Uh huh." Justin says as he scoots the meat about in the pan a few times as he watches it sizzle, then pours a large amount of nachocheese in afterwards. After a few more scrapes, he scoops it on to a plate, then cracks a few eggs to dump into the pan.
Felix takes a second trip to the fridge, this time actually leaning in properly, as it's unoccupied, and snagging a pair of beers. He pushes the door closed and moves over to a chair at the table, one with a good view of the others and the cooking going on, and then partially blocks the view by attempting to draw Lilah down to sit in his lap, instead of one of the other available chair, as would be more reasonable.
"I'm always up for stuffin' m'face," Lilah agrees, and smiles broadly to Samantha. "How's all y'all?" she asks, and does settle into Felix's lap without complaint; no doubt she expected such an arrangement. When Justin serves up the goods, she inhales deeply, nodding her head in approval. "Y'cook so good!" she compliments the dish, and offers to help serve, even if that'll get her out of Felix's lap. For food, some sacrifices must be made!
"Things are good out by the lake." Samantha answers as she looks at the kitchen they're in. "I've started not liking being inside four hard walls like this. Feels almost cramped. You ever feel like that?" she asks generally.
Felix doesn't seem at all enthused about this 'letting Lilah get up' thing, but reluctantly does. Justin gets thanked, and a 'later' as he excuses himself for some sort of meeting with the Alpha. "Yeah," the Galliard answers Samantha, "lots, especially when the moon's pretty big. Although it ain't so much the walls in general as which walls. If they're, say, Slaughterhouse's walls, I'm good."
Lilah tilts her head as she considers the question, returning to Felix's lap now that everyone's got their food. "I 'magine I'm predictable an' don't hardly count here, but it don't bother me none. I get tired o' work sometimes, and wanna see the sunshine 'n feel the wind in m'hair instead. But that ain't *quite* the same. If I got good company an' I been able to go outside at some point, I'm purty much a-okay."
Samantha nods her head as she listens to the others, still keeping her place on the countertop. 'Wide open is better, if you ask me, but then no one ever really does so it is kind of a useless point." she states, words going a mile a minute. "So are you two newly mated or just siblings or what?"
Felix snorts, wrapping his arms around Lilah's waist when she sits again, and pulling her in for a probably more through than necessary kiss. "Yeah, she's my sister," he answers Samantha then, absolutely deadpan, "We're close." Poor Lilah gets a decidedly fresh hand sliding about halfway up her leg before he moves it to get his beer instead and says dryly, "I know what y'all say about Southerners, but it ain't true."
Lilah's eyes widen at the question, more out of surprise than any kind of offense. And then she's being kissed, and while she returns it, she's also laughing a little. Poor Felix's ego! His hand sliding up her leg gets a half-hearted slap, and then she laughs, shaking her head. "Mated," she says unnecessarily, and then reaches for her own beer. She pauses, then asks Samantha, "Wouldja prefer to go somewhere more open? After we eat, or even durin', y'know, it ain't no thing. 'sides, I ain't even really supposed to be around here anyways."
Samantha shrugs her shoulders. "I grew up in the city. I'll be fine." she answers with a smile. "Mated siblings, cool!" she adds with a laugh. "At least it's not against the litany. I won't say anything about it to anyone."
Felix rolls his eyes. "No, we ain't siblings," he specifies just in case, shaking his head. "Ain't even from the same state. I'm from Tennessee, found her in Alabama. ...ain't really newly mated, either." That part, he seems faintly surprised by. "Been about... shit, ten months or somethin'?" He looks to Lilah for confirmation; this does not stop him digging in to the delicious spicy breakfast before it gets cold.
Lilah laughs at Samantha's joke, assuming it is one, and has a bite of her own food before pausing at Felix's question. "Left town on the 6th o' July," she says slowly, "So somewhere not too long after that." She looks thoughtful on that point, and then takes the opportunity to kiss his cheek. "So yeah. 'bout ten months." For her part, she stays paused in eating for now.
Samantha nods her head once more as she listens. "Well, good. We'll have lots of little pups or something running around in no time, I bet." she tells them. She sways her legs a little. "Can you believe I'm one of the strongest Wendigos in the area? Freaky, huh?"
"Ain't you one of the only Wendigos in the area?" Felix asks, arching a brow at the ragabash. "I mean, Jacinta left town, so there's you, Esther, who else? I reckon she's stronger. She looked pretty buff. But I s'pose that'd still make you one of the strongest, technically." He has no problem speaking with his mouth full, clearly, but at least he's good at it.
Lilah shifts her food around on her plate, and then smiles over at Samantha. "Well, congrats on bein' one o' the strongest, whether it's by default 'r otherwise. Always nice to feel the upper hand if you've got the arm it's attached to." She takes a swig of her beer, and then asks, "How're ya likin' this city? Things been a mite crazy lately, but..." She shrugs.
Samantha narrows her eyes at Felix. "Not my fault there's only like, three of us around." she tells him before focusing on Lilah. "The city is alright. Saw it mostly when I wasn't changed. The woods and all are way way better. Plus, you can see those nasties coming when you're in the outdoors."
Felix shrugs. "Didn't say it was," he replies, "Just sayin'. I reckon I'm the best Gnawer guitarist for miles around, but that don't necessarily mean I'm much good. ...as it happens I am. But I could be crap an' it'd still prolly be true. Ain't my fault there ain't others around neither." He's getting through his breakfast at quite a good clip, washing the spice down with his beer and seeming to enjoy both. "You can't see 'em when they're invisible no matter where you are. 's inconvenient. Those binoculars an' shit Lin left help though, 'pparently."
Lilah nods to Samantha, and goes back to eating her meal, albeit with small bites interspersed with drinks of her beer. If her expression is any hint, she seems to enjoy both. She's quiet for now, letting the two of them talk without interruption.
Samantha rolls her eyes. "Hey, just had to go and try and knock it down, huh?" she huffs a bit. "And well, if you can't see them, what about hearing them? Smelling them? There's no way they thought to remove all trace of themselves."
Felix shakes his head. "No sound, no scent. The reason the binoculars're good is the trace they ain't been able to get rid of's body heat. You can see it with those, so you can see THEM with those. Also if you blow smoke or some kinda powder where they are, that oughta work, show the spot it should be goin' an' isn't. They can go in the Umbra too, though. An' they got a telepathic link to each other." He sips the beer and rests his chin on Lilah's shoulder for a moment, adding as an afterthought, "Might be you're still pretty strong. I dunno."
Lilah listens closely to all the talk about the wraiths. At least some of it probably isn't new information to her, but she still treats it all as need-to-know. Since she's not talking at the moment, she's able to speed up her eating, and when Felix rests his chin on her shoulder, she smiles and lightly pats his leg. It seems she's the quiet type, or simply has nothing to say, since she doesn't speak up. Instead, she takes a long pull off her beer, and then leans back against Felix comfortably.
"so, a good strong dust storm would be great for showing us where they are and maybe sanding the skin right off them in the process." Samantha muses with a wide smile.
Felix tilts his head, considering this. "Possibly," he agrees, "the ones hangin' out outside, yeah, I reckon it would. That'd be interestin'. D'you know how to get one?"
Lilah has nearly finished her food, and offers the last bite or two to Felix before setting the plate aside. That done, she goes about nursing her beer. She looks with interest between the two, still engaged in the conversation even if not participating.
Samantha shakes her head, "I can call the breeze, so if I had sand nearby, it might fly. There's other gifts with stronger winds I could try to learn, i suppose. Need sand still, though."
Felix finishes off his food, and then Lilah's, washing it down with the last of his beer, and lets go of Lilah so he can stretch a bit. "Mm. Might be worth lookin' into, maybe. Or maybe a Theurge could help work up a way to make it stronger or get sand an' dirt or whatever to cooperate. But speakin' of dirt, I reckon I need a shower, now, get the sweat an' garage floor off me." He gives Lilah a gentle nudge to get up, and then rises himself, taking the kin's hand and apparently intending to take her with him. "Catch you later, Windy," he tells Samantha with a grin, "Be strong."
"It was nice talkin' with ya," Lilah waves to Samantha, and adds, this time for Felix's benefit, "Quick shower, then I *really* gotta head off again." That said, she takes a swig of her beer, finishing it, and smiles over to Samantha. "Take care, now."
Samantha waves to Lilah. "Take care." she tells her before looking to Felix. "Smell you later!" she tells him before hopping down from the countertop in order to start making her own way out.