The roof of the library is flat and expansive. In places it sags slightly, tending to collect damp patches or pools in those areas, but despite this damage it still seems solid. A three foot wall runs along the edge, ending in small extensions or cupolas at the corners. Wrought iron decorative spires sit atop these. Someone's brought up a few aluminium and plastic lounge chairs, a few plastic lawn tables, and one large, round patio lawn table with four matching chairs and an expansive sun umbrella through its center. The vast expanse of St. Claires landscape can be viewed here--or at least most of Regan Avenue. The larger buildings of downtown dwarf the old library and seem to pull it humbly back to earth and close it in. Dominating the available view is the old cathedral across that street. every night it thrums and throbs as the Temple comes alive in stark contrast to the silent, vigilant, and vacant library.
Compact is the word for him: wiry, maybe 5'6" in his beat-up black combat boots, 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, with a faded black band t-shirt ('Anarchy Burger - Hold the Government', parodying the In-N-Out sign) under an open dark red hawaiian shirt. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a length of ball-chain disappearing beneath his collar; 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.
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.
A relatively small guy, he stands at a lean 5'8. He possesses a lean runner's frame, and carries himself as such. His sandy brown hair is worn semi long and is casually swept to the right of his face so as not to obscure his brown eyes. His complexion is a smooth white, his jawline clean shaven. He wears a pair of dark blue jeans with a light blue flannel button down and a pair of tennis shoes.
Shaggy brown hair and darker brown eyes frames this young boy'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 that could use a bit of bulking upas he is built like a high school track runner. He wears loose fitted 'destroyed' blue jeans, simple tank tops, and worn down sneakers that are about five months in need of replacement, and during the cold, a thick green military jacket from his Grandpa. He looks like your average, ordinary American young teen that plays outside and is fairly active. Tall at five foot ten, he is a few inches higher than most his age for now.
(As Three-Mountains) It can take a minute to properly identify just what this canine is. To those in the know, though, his species isn't quite so vague. As a coywolf, Watcher physically resembles his coyote heritage more than his wolf as a whole. He's smaller and leaner than a wolf, with the longer ears and lighter build one would expect to see on a coyote. He's got a thick coat, though, and it lends him a bit of false bulk that usually makes him just look a bit shabby. His paws are also larger, ending with curving claws. His muzzle is a bit broader though not so heavy as a wolf but contains the same array of sharp teeth. Overall, he's a tawny grey-ticked coloration with a darker saddle. His undersides are lighter and he has yellow eyes.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (39% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 70 degrees Fahrenheit (21 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 14 mph, with gusts up to 22 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.93 and falling, and the relative humidity is 47 percent. The dewpoint is 49 degrees Fahrenheit (9 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501
It's a nice evening -- warm in a comfortable way, breezy but not too intensely windy, generally just plain pleasant. Felix is taking advantage of it by having his dinner on the roof, or apparently has been judging from the McDonald's bag on one of the chairs, by another paper bag. Currently, he's wandering along the wall that rims the roof as if it were a not-too-challenging balance beam, looking over and out at the surrounding city while he has a smoke. And a beer, currently.
Heading out to the roof with his posse' is Justin, lumbering with his usual confident Gnawer swagger. "Yo!" He calls out to the Galliard as he draws the hoodie off his head that he wears. Today's fashion choice is a pair of long baggy boxer shorts with Chewbacca's face on the back of them, sandals, and a simple black hoodie. Either he forgot his pants or just said 'fuck it'.
Three-Mountains is trailing along with Justin in his native form, the rangy coywolf looking windblown and scruffy but far more carefree than in the week or so past. He carries in his mouth a brown paper bag of his own though it seems to lack any sort of branding. It looks no different than the kind a kid'd pull out at lunch if his or her parents just didn't see a need to get them a 'proper' licensed lunch bag.
The Alpha of Tactical Frivolity brings up the rear of the entering trio. He walks along with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts, an easy smile on his face. As they make their way out onto the roof he also calls out a greeting to Felix, "What's up man?"
Felix glances over to the door when he hears it open, flashing the arrivals a grin and lifting the beer to them in a mock toast. "Hey, y'all," he replies, "'sup?" He reaches a corner and steps up onto the cupola/extension this, cigarette in his mouth to free a hand to grab the spire for leverage up and maybe a touch of balance, though he experimentally lets it go to see if he can stand there without. Turns out he can! And gets cocky enough to try it on one foot, even. Luck's with him, for now. "Not a lot. Havin' dinner, thinkin' 'bout findin' somethin' interestin' to do next. Y'all?"
"Thinking 'bout taking you across the pond to meet OhNo. That is if you're still interested in running with us." Justin says as he folds his arms across his chest. "It's a good night for it. Moon is low, which means it will be even more creepy at night. He gets wonky during these times. Would be a good test."
Three-Mountains places down the bag in his mouth as the pack's beta wags his tail towards Felix. He wants to meet you, notes the Lupus. You interest him because you interest us.
Henry nods along with his packmates' words and steps forward and says, "Yeah man. With all of the shit that's going down in the city lately, now is probably the time to jump on board if you are going to. You seem like a pretty cool dude and we are all good with it. So there's just one more that you need to impress."
"Speakin' of wonky," Felix says, eyeing Justin up, and then grinning again, "You forget somethin' before you headed out today, or you tryin' to start up a new trend? 'cause I could support the moxie but I don't see it hittin' Milan any time soon, man." He leaps down from the cupola to the roof, and polishes off the last off his beer. "Sure, what the fuck? Not like I had somethin' more important planned, for sure. I'm in. Whatcha need me to do? ...and what's wonky, compared to normal, when you're talkin' 'bout Coyote?" He saunters over to the chair his bags are on, tucking the empty bottle into the food bag and picking both up. "...and like I told Justin before, y'all seem like pretty cool dudes to me also."
"What? You don't like my fashion apparel? This is all the rage in Gnawerville." Justin says as he reaches down to shift his 'boys' into place with his hand. "Sides, easy access for when I put peanut butter on my dick and Watcher here is hungry." He snickers to his best friend, patting him on the head. Then, reaching into his hoodie pocket, he pulls out a mirror and holds it in front of the Lupine. "He'll take us across. He has the best connection. Come on, time to meet the master of mayhem."
Three-Mountains lets out a noisy, amused sounding whuff as he glances skyward. It is very warm. Hard to be cool. The statement is about as sarcastic the wolf language can convey. The comment from Justin though brings his ears to slant back and he gives the Ahroun a scolding stare - apparently he understands exactly what Justin is referring to. He's feral but not an idiot. With a snort he looks to the other Garou expectantly to gather round before he looks to the mirror to lead the way across.
Henry shakes his head as Justin's humor, but there is a slight grin nonetheless. He steps toward Watcher and says to all gathered about, "There is no normal once you get with Coyote. Everything is wonky, but it can be pretty fun at times. Hope you have a good prank planned." The last is directed directly to Felix.
Felix snickers also, setting the bags back down, albeit this time on the table, since they seem to be leaving from here. "If you gotta get peanut butter and packmates involved, dude, you're doin' it wrong," he drawls, moving to gather round appropriately. The lupus's joke gets a grin as well, if a smaller one. "Maybe you just need more practice. Maybe head South for a summer, get some hardcore trainin' in." The cigarette gets somewhat reluctantly put out, and the remains tucked in a pocket. "Don't have a lot of anythin' planned, honestly; I got any specifications here? 'cause I reckon I'm pretty much gonna hafta wing it."
"Pfff. Let's just roll out." Soon as the coy-wolf takes them across the gauntlet, the Umbra becomes a dark and gloomy place as the glow of Luna's sliver barely lights the sky. The city is covered in cobwebs old and new and the spirits of the city zip about with eager energy and pulsing with electricity. Ambling to the edge of the library, he looks out over the murky terrain and takes in a deep breath. "Ah. Now that is fresh air." From behind them comes a shrill laugh of pure lupine delight as a pair of gleaming yellow eyes peer out at them from the rooftop. ~Hey hey hey! How is my favorite pranksters doing tonight? What have you brought here before me? This the guy, huh?~
Three-Mountains crosses with ease, snatching the brown bag he brought along before crossing. On the other side, the building's roof is a bit smudgy but solid enough to hold them. There's been enough time and life in the old place to keep it going. The smell of rat is strong, though if there's around they're well hidden with the arrival of the sharp-toothed trickster. Watcher greets the totem with an enthusiastic wag as he bulks up into his Hispo form and sets the bag down. ~This is him! Brought you the things you wanted.~
Henry follows his pack over and similarly turns to greet Coyote as he comes forward. He shifts to his Glabro form and says, ~True enough. This is the new kid on the block and he says that he wants to run with the coolest pack around. He seems to be an alright enough dude to us.~
Felix looks around at the other side of the place with interest and probably approval, inclining his head to the totem when it addresses them. Henry's shift makes it clear enough whether English is doable here, so he grabs the hem of his t-shirt and takes it off, the overshirt along with it, tucking both into the side of his waistband as he shifts to Glabro as well. Turns out there's tattoos under there. ~Well, I'm the guy who's lookin' to meet you,~ he confirms cheerfully, ~Anything else I was nowhere near at the time. Unless you liked it. Evenin'.~ Another slight head-inclination to the spirit, and he adds, ~Felix T. Sinclair, Lets-Them-Eat-Cake, Cliath 'Gnawer Galliard, at your service.~
Prancing over to his packmates, the lanky coyote gives each of them a bump of the shoulder fondly, followed by a swat on the ass with his tail. To the Uktena, he leans his muzzle down to knock the bag over with a sly grin. ~I know what this is, you rapscallion you. I will enjoy this immensely.~ To Henry, he puts on a fake, hurt look. ~WHAT?! You mean he wishes to join Excelsior!? Why are you wasting my time then? You are teasing me you big meanie.~ Flailing a paw to his face dramatically, he turns, lifts up on his hind legs, then topples backwards right on to a drama-couch that poofs behind him. Thud. He lands on the bright purple pillows, then crams a spoonful of icecream into his mouth that floats before him. Sniffle. After a few more bites, he peeks over to them again, then snickers. ~Ha! Just kidding. Seriously, you got ten seconds to impress me kid. TEN.. NINE... EIGHT...~ He starts counting down.
Three-Mountains flops himself back on his rump not far from the couch like an attendant to a king, eyes turning expectantly towards Felix. ~He counts better than me.~ Remarks the Lupus before falling quiet and watchful.
Henry smirks and shakes his head saying, ~Everyone knows Excelsior is a bunch of old guys past their cool days.~ He chuckles as Ohno makes his demands of Felix and shifts his eyes to him to watch what happens.
~Lotta things ain't real impressive when they take less'n ten seconds,~ Felix says as the countdown begins, and shifts his weight from one foot onto the other, head tilting slightly. ~Well, now, last time I was thinkin' 'bout impressin' someone, I was up here on the other side, spendin' some time walkin' on the wall, and my girl showed up,~ he starts, the story-telling animated, as he heads over to the wall nearish Justin, and hops up onto it, walking it like he was when the others arrived. ~Now walkin', walking's nothin'. Even backward, y'know?~ An idle demonstration, taking him further from where Justin stands. ~So I thought, you know, I reckon I might could do a cartwheel, on this.~ He makes a show of looking the ledge over, but doesn't do it immediately. ~It was a great cartwheel. One of my best,~ he brags, ~...right up 'til the end. Landin' was almost okay, an' then my foot slipped. Went right over the edge lookin' like your animated compadre. Just barely managed to grab that there corner thingy an' drag myself back up.~ He grins, looking far more amused and pleased with having nearly dropped three floors onto concrete than any sane person should. ~Anyhow, I reckon I deserve a redo.~ And he does one, right along the wall in Justin's direction. This time, it goes exactly right -- except this time, he angles it to land slightly to the inward edge of the wall, heels on and toes off, and slides down off it to land in a controlled sit on the roof itself, grabbing the side of Justin's boxers and trying to take them with him as he goes.
As the coyote watches, he has a bored expression upon his face. Galliards and their windbag performances. YAWN. Though, has he starts to go through the motions of the cartwheel, he leans his head forward and watches, then belts out a loud laugh as he snags the young Ahroun's boxers and tugs them down to reveal his huge (average) gifts that he was born with. The young Gnawer blinks his eyes, then lets out a soft cough as he reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out a piece of gum, popping it into his mouth. He doesn't even bother to pull his boxers up. Fuck it. HashtagYOLO. OhNo hops up to his paws and lets out another whooping laugh. ~HA! You got MY attention. Very clever. Very much indeed!~ With a look to the other three, then gives a low sweeping bow. ~Good work my newest coyote!~ With that, he takes a running leap for the edge of the roof, vaults himself off and POOF, he turns into the LuckDragon from Neverending Story and flies off through the night with a cackle.
Felix grins broadly when the pantsing succeeds, and Justin's gum reaction gets a laugh as the Galliard stands. ~Thank ya kindly,~ he says to OhNo, looking pleased and proud with the spirit's laughter, and watches the leap and transformation before looking back to the others. "...well," he says, melting back down to his more accustomed form, "I reckon that went pretty okay."
Three-Mountains regards the de-panting passively. What's going commando to a Lupus? He does clearly approve of Ohno's approval though. As the acceptance is made, the other Galliard raises his head to let out a loud and gleeful howl that rings through the Umbral sky. It's raucous and more highly pitched than any wolf's howl. ~You are pack now! Now you must pull a prank. It is tradition. We all did our first night.~
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- 4 From: Felix At: Sat Aug 22 04:18:56 2015 (Conn) Fldr : 0 Status: Read To : Henry, Three-Mountains, Justin Subject: Pack-Joining Prank --------------------------------------------------------------------------- So, the day after joining the pack (since the place would already have been closed for that day), Felix went to the mall. Like all good teenagers! And messed with the bathrooms. He put lifesavers inside the taps for nice sticky water, filled the soap dispensers with mayo, poured powders (cocoa, koolaid, cayenne pepper) into the hand dryers to get all over the place and stick to nasty sticky hands, and stole and/or trashed as much of the toilet paper as possible, trying to leave just enough for a few people to go ahead and use the stalls. (Relatedly, the Library now has at least a backpack's worth of mall-type toilet paper somewhere -- possibly two, if Lilah helped.) Then he hung out at the food court to watch what happened, 'cause c'mon, that's half the fun. Plus: Cinnabon. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------