A long, hard-packed dirt road winds almost a mile through the forest off Sunrise Road, eventually opening out into a small front yard, and coming to a stop in front of a large house, which may be the very definition of ramshackle. The house is not visible from the road, nor can one hear anything but perhaps a gunshot. Its foundation and general structure are solid, but its once crisp grey-and-white paint needs updating, and some of the trim is having trouble staying attached. A fixer upper, one might say. Off to the left, there's a former garage, long since converted into something of an in-law apartment. A connecting flyover attaches it to the second floor of the house.
There are no fences surrounding either the front or back yards. In the rear of the property, the yard (larger than in the front) eventually comes up against a well built garden, with the very beginnings of sprouts. Shaded and obscured by surrounding trees, there is a small (but deep) natural pond, with a chuckling brook leading out of it, into the woods. There's a rope swing hanging from one of the trees. The yard to the southeast of the property stretches on for a time, and then is eaten by woods, into which there may or may not be a path; it apparently fades away quickly. There's a certain looming feel to these woods.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is partially cloudy. The temperature is 44 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southeast at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.04 and steady, and the relative humidity is 89 percent. The dewpoint is 41 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501
Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (67% full).
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.
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 a well-worn biker jacket of the traditional sort, all fairly closely fit black leather and silvery zippers and snaps. Beneath it, he's got 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.
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.
Here is a young woman who is built like a track star with shoulder length brown hair and matching brown eyes. Her skin borders on the slightly tanned due to being kissed from the sun from her outdoor activities. Alicia is of caucasian descent with a hint of peruvian mingled into her DNA. Her apparel tends to be a mix of urban streetwear in the form of loose fitted cargo pants and crop shirts, to long skirts with button down blouses. Fairly tall at five-eight, she looks to be a young woman who has seen her share of scraps, and radiates an aura of confidence and showmanship with how she walks. Under her shirts, her stomach has a number of hacksawed looking scars along her skin that criss-crosses around to her back and just under her breast.
Scroungy and dirty would be the best words to describe this teen. Benny stands at 5'8, his build short and stocky. He is wide in the shoulders and his arms are well defined from a life on the streets without much food. He wears a ragged and frayed jacket overtop a torn and worn out t-shirt along with a pair of gloves with the fingers cut to reveal the dirt caked beneath his fingernails. He wears a pair of camouflage cargo pants along with a two worn out and broken steel toe boots he obviously saved from a life at the dump. His rough appearance is only enhanced by the long tangle of brown hair that hangs from beneath his black knit beanie and the grizzled brown beard. His face is wide and his eyes are almost constantly ringed, giving him a sleepless appearance. He has a long chrome wallet chain that hangs down to his knee.
Briari stands at a fairly average height of five foot three with shoulder length curly blonde hair. Her eyes are a soft blue color. She has a lean, lanky build about her which appears built more for running than lifting. She tends to dress in boring jeans and shirts purchased at the local Hot Topic. Geekery shirts with logos of Adventure Time, My Little Pony, Futurama, Star Wars, etc. She rarely wears make up or jewelry. She has a bit of a southern tan complexion from living in Georgia.
The young woman before you is a strange transplant from a culture quite a distance away. Charlene's face is a soft, oval-shape, with bright blue eyes like small almonds and softly arcing brows. Her cheeks are a soft ruddy pink; a light contrast to the rich tan that covers the rest of her exposed skin, and if you catch her just right, small dimples appear when she smiles. Her nose is slim and straight with a turned up tip, and her hair is long and reddish blonde with a hint of a curl, hanging nearly to the middle of her back. Her height is about average for women in the United states; about 5'5" in bare feet, but what she doesn't have in height, she makes up for in curves; though what generous curves she has speak more of regular exercise and a high metabolism than the latest fashionable diet.Her movements are sure and easy, showing an unconscious grace.
She is wearing an outfit that she seems very comfortable in; the type of clothing you'd see on the average person going down the street. Blue jeans hold her legs closely - a little faded from regular washing and wear, while a white T-shirt covers her body. Over all that is a plaid button down work shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons loosened, letting breezes catch it and cause it to flutter. A battered cowboy hat is perched jauntily on her head with a few ravens feathers tucked into the brim, a pair of broken-in steel-toed Doc Martens cover her feet, and around her neck is a chain with two things; a small gold locket and a ring of gold and platinum.
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.
A number of targets are set up in the meadow on top of hay bales. The targets look like bullseyes on tripods at varying heights. Briari is out front in a pair of spandex workout shorts and a matching sports bra of a black and pink color. The golden shot gauntlets are over her hands, and she is wielding a top of the line bow and arrow set. Instead of standing in one spot, she is moving left to right quickly, pulling the bow back as an arrow is notched. She lets fly into one target as her gauntlet goes off in a loud BANG, creating a concussive blast that sends the arrow forward to hit the target, followed by an explosion.
Charlene's shower the night before lasted until the hot water ran out, and the Fury, now suitably clean, shifted down to her four legged form to curl into the blankets of one of the beds where she stayed all night, barely moving but to breathe or to stretch. After a long and needed rest she got up, shifted back, got dressed, and made some breakfast - bacon and eggs rolled in a tortilla the size of Grandma's knee - before heading out to the porch to investigate what the hell was causing all of that racket. Standing on the porch, she watches the pink and gold spandex-clad Garou strafing left and right before sending an arrow downrange. It often ends in an explosion, the Fury wincing a little. Taking a big bite of her burrito, she heads back inside, emerging after a few minutes with her own bow - a well-worn recurve bow made of wood and sinew, a little shorter than she is tall, carved carefully with runes along the upper and lower arms. Over her shoulder is a quiver of hand-made arrows, each fletched with feathers found on the bawn. Crow, Dove, some eagle and hawk....it all depends on what she found when she was making it. And, munching on her breakfast she heads into the field to see if she can practice as well with her packmate.
The sound of a car is the first sign of anyone else approaching the place, and really, said car probably ought to be going slower on the packed dirt. But hey, those old Cadillacs have great suspensions, right? It turns out to be a blue Eldorado, probably fairly recently painted since someone driving like that on these roads likely hasn't kept it nice for all that long, with the top down despite the coolness of the day. Felix parks it out of the way, the slowing to a stop portion of events rather shorter than ideal, though from the grin he seems to think it was about right. The sounds from the direction of the house get his attention as he gets out of the car, and his eyes narrow slightly as he identifies their cause.
Moving to the next target, Briari is practically dancing on her feet as she twists and turns, as if she was dodging invisible projectiles. With a burst of rage, she flips into a one handed sommersault as the gauntlet goes off once she strikes the ground, causing her to rocket upwards into the air. Her other arm swings outwards, taking aim at another target as the loud concussive bang goes off, creating an explosion as the target evaporates into dust. When she lands, the bow is notched once again and another arrow is sent out. Thunk. She moves like liquid through each move, practiced and well oiled.
Lilah doesn't seem to mind the too-quick pace of their arrival, judging by her smile. She smoothes out her hair once the vehicle's stopped, and it sorely needs it. She's chattering about something quietly, but she breaks off at the sound of one of those explosions. She reaches out to brush her fingertips over Felix's hand, and doesn't get out of the vehicle just yet.
Charlene stays out of range as Briari does her tumbling and flipping, leaning on her bow as she watches, bending down to pluck a length of grass from the meadow and tucking it into her cheek to gnaw on momentarily. When the echo from the handspring explosion fades, Charlene lifts a pair of fingers to her mouth and gives a sharp whistle. "Hey!" she calls out. "Don't think some of the neighbors can hear ya."
"Don't reckon they can hear much of anything, anymore," Felix calls in response, taking Lilah's hand and twining his fingers with hers as they head toward the house. Both bows get an interested look, and the wielder of the less explosive looking one as well; the look toward Briari is too casual not to be intentionally so. There's no Briari-like bouncing and dancing around as he walks, but there's enough energy bleeding off him at the moment that one might expect it to break out at any time.
Lilah gets a lopsided smile at Felix's comment, and squeezes his hand lightly as they walk. She nods to Briari and Charlene as they walk up, but is silent for the moment. Unlike the Gnawer, she's looking pretty relaxed at the moment.
The Fury looks over as two people she's never met show up, then back to Briari who's shoved a phone to her ear and wanders off somewhere quiet to talk to someone about something due to financials. She sighs, giving a shrug before looking over to Lilah and Felix, tipping her hat back with one thumb. "Afternoon." Her voice is almost certainly Texan, judging from the drawl, but she's been here long enough to where it's softened a bit. "Ain't met you two b'fore. New to St. Claire?"
"Afternoon," Felix replies, flashing the Fury a grin; his own accent is Memphis, and probably hasn't had time to change a whole lot yet. "Ain't met you before, neither. We've been here..." he glances to Lilah, "what, 'bout two months?" He gestures to where Briari's wandered off and adds just a touch dryly, "Her, we've met. Felix T. Sinclair, Lets-Them-Eat-Cake, Cliath 'Gnawer Galliard, at your service." He makes a playfully flamboyant bow with the arm not holding Lilah's hand, adding afterward, "...and this's Lilah." Everyone's out front, where some haybales have been set up and used for explosive archery; Charlene's got a bow, and Briari and her own bow have briefly wandered off for a phone call.
"These are coyotes." Briari says as she heads back to Charlene with her usual Red Bull drunk swagger. The phone is tucked back into her hip pouch that is belted to her waist. She gives a quick twirl of her high end compound bow that looks like it belongs fifty years into the future, and slips it over her shoulder. "Thanks for the cookies by the way." She says to Felix with a smirk tugging upon her lips.
"Bone Gnawer, huh." The way she says that isn't derogatory or anything - more of a statement of fact, the fury shifting from one foot to the other before straightening, tipping her hat back a bit. "I've kind of been out of the loop, doin' a lot of stuff with the bawn and all. I'm Charlene Schweitzer, Song-of-Vengeance, Fostern Galliard of the Black Furies, and head of Otter Space, packed under, who else, Otter." She glances over to Briari. "Aw, she ain't so bad. Wouldn't be in my pack if she wasn't." The fury blinks. "Coyotes, huh?" She grins, her eyes glimmering a bit. "Guess I'll have to keep my wits about me before pranks happen."
"Has it been that long?" Lilah asks, blinking. "S'ppose it has." She, too, has a Southern accent, but it's not quite Texan. Must be some other southerly state. "Lilah Sinclair, 'Gnawer kinfolk." She smiles at Felix's bow, shaking her head with amusement, but doesn't comment on it directly. She turns that smile on Charlene, then, saying, "A pleasure t' meetcha." She only lets her smile rise up into a grin at mention of coyoteness.
A loud bang echoes in the surrounding area, followed by a low mechanical rumble akin to a very pissed off bumblebee. Soon a rusted out Volkswagen Bus can be seen ambling down the road leading to Edgewood House. The bus pulls up with a creaky squeel of brakes and another backfire that shoots out a cloud of stinky gray smoke. The passenger door is shoved open with a rusty pop and out jumps Benny, cigar clenched in his teeth. He goes to oush the door closed, but it seems to be stuck. Try as he might he finally yells out, "Damnit Maud!" and kicks the door which finally allows it to snap closed, a new dent in the side. Turning, the Bone Gnawer Theurge finally seems to spot the others gathered and he says, "Oh. Hey. Fucking antiques, eh?" As if to illustrate his comment, the bus backfires again as it wheels about and heads back toward town, another cloud of exhaust sent into the air.
"And that," Felix agrees cheerfully enough, "packed with Tactical Frivolity, under Coyote. Ain't quite used to addin' that part just yet. Nice meetin' you." He looks over to Briari, adding almost sweetly, "...an' no problem. We made 'em specially for you, y'know. You even actually ended up with 'bout half the batch, which is prolly a great honour." The noise of the bus gets his attention, and he watches the arrival. "I dunno, ours ain't doin' too bad," he says, gesturing to the probably similar-vintage Eldorado parked over there, and looking Benny over. "Anyway," he says, glancing back to Charlene and grinning again, "I reckon we all oughta be keepin' our wits about us regardless, right?"
With a smirk towards the Coyote, Briari says, "Well, thank you regardless. I am sure they were very delicious. I donated them instead to your tribemate Bad Boy because he is always hungry and I am a big believer in giving back to my community." Rocking her shoulder backwards to pop the joint, she raises a brow at the arrival of Benny, then glances over to Charlene for a moment with a shrug. "Anyways, Felix, seeing how you have extended a laurel branch to me, I wish to do the same. I would like to teach you a gift that you may find useful in the city."
Sometimes the best thing to do is to not say anything at all. Briari and Felix seem to have a nice conversation going - whatever bad blood the pair had apparently seems to be going beneath whatever bridge they happened to cross, and Lilah's greeting gives Charlene a smile. "Pleasure to meet'cha too. Good to see more kinfolk about." She tips her hat, straightening as the VW deposits its passenger before heading back out to the road, setting the bow against the inside of her foot, ready to string it. "Jus' because it's an antique don't mean it don't work. MY motorcycle's older than me, still works great."
Lilah watches the interplay between Felix and Briari with interest, and at Briari's offer, she glances over at Felix for a moment, squeezing his hand. She nods to Charlene then, looking ready to say something, and then turns in surprise at the sound of the bus. It gets a sudden grin, despite her not seeming to recognize its occupant. She gives a wave that direction, and then leans casually against Felix. "People've been real friendly-like, an' we 'ppreciate it," she tells Charlene, though this could go for any of the others as well.
Benny walks towards the group at an extremely casual pace, almost seeming so lazy that he just slides his feet along in the dirt. His eyes are quite bloodshot and there is a heavy scent of booze about him. Looking to Briari he smirks and says, "You again." A beat and then he says of the departed bus, "I guess the door being stuck isnt the worst problem it has. There's a hole in the floorboard you have to straddle or you'll be Flinstoning." He chuckles wheezily and then adds to those he doesnt know, "I'm Benny Martinez."
Felix shakes his head, looing woeful. "You missed out, then, 'cause they were indeed fuckin' delicious. I oughta know, I think I ate most of the other half of the dough. But seein' as I'm pretty big on that whole feedin' the hungry thing, I reckon gettin' donated to other members of my tribe ain't such a bad fate for 'em." Briari's offer, unlike her distrust of his scrumptious baked goods, is apparently a surprise, though it shows as just a flicker of startled wariness. "...oh, yeah? That's mighty kind of you. What'd you have in mind?" Benny gets a friendly nod of greeting, but Felix's attention is focused on Briari right now, and more introduction will have to wait a moment.
"Oh, it's you. Please, keep your eyes above my chest level this time." The blonde super hero says as she sports a pair of spandex workout shorts and a matching sports bra. No scars or tattoos line her toned, pale body. That statement was to Benny. Briari rubs her nose a bit as she sizes Felix up, then says, "Supernatural parkour." With that, she turns and heads towards the house, picking up speed, then leaps upwards as she tags one foot along the post of the porch, then another as she runs up it, then leaps forward to grab the edge of the roof. Once she snags it, she pulls herself upwards to land on the roof. With a smirk, she pulls her bow and an arrow out, then runs to the edge of the roof and leaps off it, taking aim and sending the arrow outwards and over their heads to tag the target. Thump. She hits the ground with a bend of her knees, rolling forward into a sommersault.
There Briari goes - showing off again. It's flashy, sure, but it's a lot of effort to look good. Char's more of the 'shoot them from a distance and let them wonder' type of person. She does chuckle at the admonation, though. "If you didn't want people lookin, you might consider wearin' a little more next time, Bri." She snickers and puts her weight on the bow. Slowly, with a creak it starts to bend, allowing her to slip the bowstring over the end. This is a very strong woman and the bow seems a bit heavier than it normally would for someone her size.
Lilah smiles at Benny, and greets him with a, "Well howdy. Lilah Sinclair, 'Gnawer kinfolk. Nice ta meetch--" She breaks off as Briari starts running, her eyes widening as she watches her actions. A glance toward Felix, and then she nods, seeming impressed. She blinks, as though remembering she was mid-speech, and turns back to Benny, embarrassedly rubbing at the back of her neck. "Er. Sorry, you were sayin'?"
Benny also watches Briari run off doing whatever Hipster, nerd hybrid stuff she does. He nudges Felix and says, "By the look of you and the little lass here I got something a hell of a lot more useful to you." With that he adopts a look of concentration, his nostrils flaring a bit as he sniffs at the air. He moves slowly as he walks, like a hound following a scent, straight to the trash can beside the house. He pulls off the lid and smiles back to Felix as he reaches in and pulls out a half eaten hot dog and crunched up bag of potato chips. Holding them aloft like war trophies he says, "You'll never go hungry again! Sugar Lips the Bone Gnawer Theurge at your service!" He takes a bite of the half eaten hot dog shamelessly.
Charlen chuckles. "Was that really necessary? I mean, we've got a kitchen right there in Edgewood." Scavenging isn't anything new for Charlene - she's done it, after all, when in the woods as Groundskeeper - but when there's a kitchen 'right there' inside the house, chock full of food....well. "I guess you were you just proving a point? If so, congratulations. You've done so rather well."
Felix can't help looking impressed with the demonstration -- or maybe a better word would be delighted. His eyes light up and there's a shift of the way his weight is balanced between his feet that gives the impression he's at least half-tempted to see just how much of that might be doable without knowing the relevant gift yet, all that barely repressed energy pressing harder to escape. Yeah, Briari may have judged this one pretty well. "Okay," he says, tone about ten times more casual than the rest of the reaction supports, "I might could find a use or two for somethin' like that, now'n then..." Benny's counter-demonstration gets a laugh. "Not bad either... but what kinda chips? I mean, are we talkin' barbecue here?" Slightly too serious to actually be. "Felix T. Sinclair, Lets-Them-Eat-Cake, Cliath Gnawer Galliard, packed with Tactical Frivolity, under Coyote. Nice finally meetin' you; Justin's mentioned you here an' there."
"The best use of this gift is when you are about to get the shit beat out of you and you are out gunned, and you need a quick escape. Or, if you are tailing an enemy from above by rooftop and you do not want them to know you are chasing them street side. This allows you to leap easier. Digging in trash cans is fine and all, but this gift will save your life." Briari says as she undedicates a pair of pants and a cable knit sweater as the clothes reform about her. With a bit of concentration, the bow and quill disappears as well, then the gauntlets shift back into a pair of large gold bangles about her wrists. "Hey Lilah." She flashes a grin to the kinfolk.
Lilah watches Benny's display as well, and then she claps briefly for him, and on second thought, claps for Briari as well. She's definitely impressed by the two of them. "Both o' those seem real handy. Nicetameetcha, Sugar Lips." This is said without an ounce of teasing, as though it were the most natural name in the world. "It's a pleasure to meet ya," she says, and then looks toward Briari, nodding her head and giving her a smile. "Howdy."
Now that her bow's strung, Charlene takes aim at one of the targets with a black arrow from her quiver, two more clenched in her right hand. Drawing the bow back in one smooth movement, the arrow on the outside of her wrist instead of the inside, She lets the arrow loose with a streak, hitting the target. Then, almost as fast as she can draw it back again, the second arrow is nocked and loosed, then the third. Three arrows in about that many seconds. Bow use is kind of a Fury thing, it seems. "Let's just say they'll all be advantageous. Being able to avoid fights is a good thing, and being able to find food is another good thing." Even if it is a little gross, eating out of trash cans. She looks over at Briari as clothes re-materialize, wrinkling her nose a little before drawing three more arrows and shooting the same three targets. One *thunk* Two *thunk* Three *thunk* No explosions this time, though.
Benny nods his head slowly and says, "Of course starving has never killed anyone." He smirks and tosses a wink toward Briari. He shuffles back over to the group. "Yeah, Justin is alright. For a poor kid."
"Ladies, ladies, please, there's plenty to go around! I can learn ALL the gifts!" Felix assures everyone assembled, releasing Lilah's hand so he can raise both of his in a placating manner. The grin does somewhat detract from the effect, however. He slides his arm around Lilah's shoulders afterward, watching Charlene's shots with somewhat subtler admiration than the parkour thing. "Yep, he ain't half bad. Wouldn't be in my pack if he wasn't," he says to Benny, echoing an earlier remark, adding innocently, "Though he thinks my ritename's almost as bad as yours."
"Well, while you are learning how to find old hot dogs in trash cans, how about I will take Lilah out for dinner? I have VIP reservations for a new steakhouse that is opening up across town and Puff Daddy will be there." Briari says with a grin upon her face as she dips her head to the kinfolk. "You want to come along with?"
Charlene meanders over to the targets and withdraws the arrows with a twisting motion, tucking them back into the quiver before coming over. "Might not be the best plan for me. Galliard moon and all. I'd probably drive half the restaurant away thanks to simmering rage and besides, I can prob'ly cook a steak better than any steakhouse out there." She grins. "May have to get some Tomahawk steaks an' cook them for you guys one day. Good eating, and lots of bones left over for the lupus."
Lilah can't help but grin at all of their comments, especially when Felix spreads his arms out. She laughs under her breath, and then leans over into his space. Briari's offer does seem to take her aback, and she glances at Felix before saying, "Uh. Er, sure, thank ya kindly. I do like steak." Stating the obvious, there. She recovers some of her equilibrium as Charlene speaks, and smiles over at her. "I betcha make a mean steak."
Benny shrugs again in reply to Briari as he finishes off the rest of the hot dog. He nods in reply to Felix's assessment of Justin in reference to their pack, but otherwise just remains silent.
Felix quirks a brow at Briari's offer, looking mildly amused. "You better have her back by curfew, an' if you're thinkin' 'bout funny business remember I'm gonna be home cleanin' my shotgun while you're out," he informs the Ragabash, then turns to kiss Lilah on the temple. "Get everythin' delicious. Bring me a doggy bag." Quick grin. "There already any steak that kitchen, maybe?" he asks Charlene, at her musings, "We could have a Galliard steakhouse while they're gone. Be delicious. With our own big name entertainers an' everythin'."
"I can't make a promise I won't keep outside that she will have an awesome time. Give me an hour, Lil', and we will hit the mall to get you something to wear. We have to look amazing of course if we are showing up in my Ferrari. I am thinking Versace for tonight" Briari says with a grin, then bumps her shoulder with Charlene as she walks past her. "You and I will have ourselves a steak date when the moon is lower. I need to make a few calls. Let's go for a run tonight. Felix, let me know when you want to fall off roofs." And with that, she heads down the driveway as her phone is produced and put to her ear.
Lilah licks her lips almost nervously, and nods to Briari. "Thank you," she says simply, and wraps an arm around Felix. Beyond that, she's quiet for the moment, watching others rather than commenting.
Benny likewise drifts away as Briari makes her exit, heading for Edgewood house and steppig inside without a word.
Felix's eyes narrow slightly at Briari's remarks to Lilah, and near the end of them there's a twitch near the corner of one. The kin can feel a wave of tension through his arm where it sits around her shoulders, as well. "Sometime soon," is all he answers, and that to the Walker's last words. He glances after the others as they head into the house, and says to Lilah, "Well, I came here to hit things. Reckon I prolly oughta get goin' on that."
Lilah nods to Briari as she goes, and then looks over at Felix once the woman's gone. She leans over to place a kiss on his cheek, and then gives a firm nod. "A-punchin' we will go, a-punchin' we will go..." A half-smile lifts to her lips.
"Heigh-ho the derry-o, a-punchin' we will go!" Felix sings in agreement; Lilah's song draws a grin as he joins it, albeit one of the more feral ones which suggest he might have particular targets in mind, at least in his perfect world. In this one, he keeps the arm slung around Lilah's shoulders and brings her along with him toward the garage.
Lilah bounces her head from side to side with his singing, keeping a rhythm. She even swings her arms a bit to complete the look. Once they're inside, and it's clear they're alone, she pulls him in for a kiss, and not a quick one.
You'd think Felix would expect that -- or plan it himself -- but perhaps he was focused on the imminent hitting, since there's a fraction of a second of reorientation before the arm around Lilah's shoulders slides until his hand's on the back of her neck, and his other arm goes around her waist, pulling her in close for that kiss. He doesn't seem inclined to make it any quicker than she is, and when it finally breaks he rests his forehead against hers a moment, then lifts his head to look toward the ladder, and up it. "Y'know," he murmurs, "there's a whole loft fulla pillows an' shit over there..."
Felix and Lilah are in the barn-slash-garage, and this being them, they've just finished a bit of the ol' liplock. Whatever's just been said to her, Lilah goes a bit red, and playfully punches Felix's arm. "You're encouragable," she insists, and yes that is definitely the word she uses. "C'mon, get t'yer punchin'," she laughs happily.
Felix has one arm around Lilah's waist and the other hand still on the back of her neck after the kiss. He gives her the cutest pout he can muster, punch or not. "I could always get t'my punchin' after," he points out, "I mean, it ain't like that bag's in a =hurry= to get beat on."
Lilah smiles brightly at that pout, seeming affected by it. "I like when you pout," she says, "It's plum adorable." She leans in to give him another kiss, and then pulls away after a bit. "I reckon I should do whatever's gonna make you have that look th' most." She lifts her brows, grinning, and kisses the tip of his nose. "I reckon you need that practice. After all, you get less chance to practice *that* skill."
Felix pouts more, just on principle, and sticks his tongue out at her when she pulls away. The arm around her waist moves, his hand sneaking under the hem of her shirts and up along the small of her back -- then changing its mind and sliding downward instead, aiming to slip under the denim instead. "Well, I dunnooo, I make a general rule to try an' practice both at least once a day. It's just that there's got a better shape for fightin' than the other mattress."
Lilah laughs at the tongue sticking out, and sticks hers out right back at him ever so pretend-petulantly. She sways back and forth, hemming and hawing, before she leans in to kiss him. "This's a terrible idea," she insists, but it's not exactly a 'no.' She kisses along his jawline, shaking her head with amusement afterward.
Felix licks her tongue when she extends it, and then grins wickedly at her, his hand sliding further under her jeans to give her rear a good squeeze. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I've had worse. This one sounds pretty good to =me=..." For all that historically means. "Anyway, if I went over there first instead, by the time I'm done you're gonna be off eatin' steak with overrated rappers, an' I'm gonna be all alone..." And so, so woeful!
Lilah blushes at the lick, and leans in to try and catch his tongue for another kiss. His reasoning, and particularly the woeful nature of it, gets a light laugh. "A'right, a'right," she relents, holding up her hands, "But if we get caught, I'm blamin' you. Yer wiles. They overwhelmed me. In fact, I'mma blame you even if we *don't* get caught." She laughs again, and gives him a surprisingly gentle kiss to his cheek.
Felix grins again, wider this time. "See, that's the thing about coyotes. Wiley," he tells her, and gives her neck a nuzzle after she kisses his cheek. "C'mon," he says, then, reclaiming his hands to take one of hers, and leads the way to the ladder. There's a plucked turkey hanging from the side of one of the crossbars, but it's still easy enough to climb and get to the loft. He pulls her up after him when she reaches the top, needed or not, and flops down in the nearest pillows to remove his boots and add them to the collection of shed shoes near the edge.
Lilah groans at the pun, but she definitely seems to like that neck nuzzle, at least. She squeezes his hand and follows after him, climbing up the ladder with a mix of trepidation and excitement, as one might expect. She grins at him as he pulls her up, settling in next to him before she slips out of her sandals, leaning in for a kiss.
The doors to the garage opens and in walks Alicia, who is wearing a baggy sweater and a pair of cargo pants. The tall woman's brown and red streaked hair is a bit long and now shoulder length. Though it may be hard to see, but the woman has a baby bump hiding under the fabric. There is a loud yawn as she starts to fuss with a few tools on the table, muttering to herself about trying to find a flat head.
"...I'm pretty sure any time there's anythin' to blame someone for, folks're gonna go with me rather'n you anyhow," Felix adds, though he doesn't sound as though he necessarily thinks they're wrong. That kiss is given and then he pulls Lilah further back into the loft with him, into more of the piled soft things. He sheds his jacket and shirts immediately and is just getting started on Lilah's when there's the sound of someone else arriving; he makes a shh gesture to Lilah, finger to lips, and sits up to get a look over the edge of the loft.
Lilah smirks at his comment, though she doesn't deny the wisdom in his words. She squirms up against ever so casually during the kiss, and once his shirts are shed, she begins running her hands softly over his chest and stomach. When he shushes her, she gives a nod to show she's heard, and doesn't make a move beyond that.
Finally finding a screw driver, Alicia plucks it off the table and into her hand. As she starts back for the door, she gives a bit of a pause and glances upwards slowly towards the loft.
Felix gives Lilah an evil smile and reaches down to give her a thorough grope -- and then it's like some kind of sixth sense that Alicia's pausing instead of leaving and where she's looking when she does, and he follows the older Garou's earlier example, stifling a yawn as he moves to more obviously look out from the loft to see who might be there. Somewhere, a theatre company is the poorer for the loss of his sleepiness-simulating skillz. "Afternoon," he greets, giving her a faintly drowsy smile.
Lilah's eyes widen at the grope, her expression promising she's going to pay him back at some point, and it won't be pretty! She chews at her lower lip and focuses on staying still, unsure if she's supposed to be 'awake' or not.
Finding the eyes of the Gnawer in the loft, Alicia stares at him intensely for a moment with her dark brown eyes. "Afternoon." She says in a calm tone as her fingers twirl the screwdriver about her palm. A brow lifts upwards slowly as she regards him for a few moments. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Just thought I heard someone down there," Felix says easily, "And turns out I was right. You fixin' somethin'?" A gesture vaguely toward the twirling screwdriver, with that question, although from where he's at that still ends up being more or less in her entire direction. He looks her over, considering a breath before adding, "...and d'you want me to introduce myself from here, or would you rather I came down there?"
Lilah is barely even breathing, at this point. Which could fit, if she's 'asleep!'
"Yes, I would like for you to come down here." Alicia says as she glances at the screw driver. "And I will need you to fix something if you are capable. I am working on the register and need to change out the filter but the grate appears to be stuck."
Felix runs a hand through his hair, and nods. "Well, reckon I can give it a go, sure. One sec." He turns to Lilah then, studying her a moment, and then gets up and heads for the ladder, all the movements careful and quiet. He doesn't bother putting anything on that's off; barefoot's not so bad and the weather's nice enough right now. He waits until he's fairly close to announce, still just slightly quietly, "Felix T. Sinclair, Lets-Them-Eat-Cake, Cliath Gnawer Galliard, packed under Coyote with Tactical Frivolity, at your service." He gives her that bow while he's at it, because hey, it's fun. And some people find it charming!
For her part, Lilah settles in quietly and closes her eyes, apparently intending on *actually* sleeping! Skip me for a bit!
Tilting her head slightly as she regards him once he is fully presented before her, the Gaian says, "My name is Alicia Jackson. I am The Last Song Standing Between Two Rifts. Rited as Guards the Last Flame of the Future. Adren and Galliard for the Children of Gaia. I am the Voice of the Goddess and tribal Elder for our people. I am the Alpha for the all honorable pack Excelsior under his majesty the Black Unicorn. I have been at this Sept for nearly fifteen years as well as the Sept of the Western Eye where I brought two Septs together to peace when they were at the edge of war." Her eyes turn upwards to the loft, then back to him. "Coyotes, huh? Are you the one who put gum behind the filter so that I cannot get it out?"
"Pleased to meet you," Felix says, looking her over again -- as if matching her to something in his head, not as though ogling. "...and no ma'am, I don't chew gum and I'm not even sure what kind of filter you're talkin' about. I ain't real mechanical, but I don't mind seein' if there's somethin' I can do if you point me at it." He stretches, looking somewhat more awake and energetic now.
"It's alright. If you aren't handy I will figure it out." Alicia says as she lifts her shoulders upwards. "It will help me kill some time for the evening until some of my pack mates show up for dinner. I am making lasagne in the kitchen if you and your girlfriend that you're hiding up there is interested." She says as she turns and heads for the door that leads back to the house.
Felix grins, quite genuinely. "Ain't hidin' her," he answers, "She's tryin' to have a nap." Which is true! Now, at least. "I think Briari's plannin' to drag her off for lifestyles of the rich an' famous for dinner, but I'd be pretty interested in lasagna, myself. Anyway, now I'm all curious about what kinda register an' filter an' all this is."
"The register is what controls the temperature in the house. Heat and cooling. The filter keeps the air clean of dust and allergens." Alicia says as she gives him an amused smirk as she heads out of the garage, starting her ambling towards the house. "Your girlfriend is heading off with Briari for the night?" There is a bit of amusement in her voice. "She may leave a Bone Gnawer but will come back a Glass Walker if that is the case. She is a millionaire. Appreciates the finer things in life."
"OH, air conditioning, okay," Felix says, following along for the moment. "Not somethin' I've had a whole lotta call to mess with." He snorts softly at Alicia's prediction, shaking his head. "Lilah's got a better head on her shoulders'n that," he says, "...an' yeah. I've noticed." He actually sounds perfectly light and casual with the last comments, neither condemning nor impressed.
Heading into the living room, Alicia settles down next to the register and takes the screwdriver and starts to unscrew the box with practiced motions. "Mm.. interesting." She hums to herself. Once she cracks it open, she starts to scrape the bubblegum off it. "So, what are you coyotes up to besides making our lives interesting? I have got word about the vampires. Do you need me to resolve it for you guys or do you have it handled?"
Felix stays just barely out of the way, watching what's being done; there's a faint half-smile at the gum there, and he shakes his head. "Well, we're doin' some more lookin' into that. There's this preacher guy attached to 'em, an' looks like he's popped up again, so we're aimin' to get us some more information off of him," he answers, "...reckon after that we oughta have a more up-to-date handle on how much firepower resolvin' it's gonna take. Couple other folks were meant to be talkin' to =other= folks for arrangin' things, I think, but we ain't heard anythin' outta 'em for a while now. So I reckon we're movin' forward on sortin' shit out anyhow, 'cause we ain't big on this draggin' on."
"Well, I will talk to my ragabash and send her your way then. I know that you guys don't have one. Mine has fifteen years of experience. I rited with her." Alicia says as she yanks out the old filter, then reaches for the new one that is in a plastic home depot bag. She sizes it up, slips it in, then closes the grate back up.
"Yeah, so far we're short one," Felix says, "...which is kinda ironic, really, thinkin' 'bout it. You guys been packed together that whole time?" The idea is impressive, clearly. There's a pause, a thought being considered. "You rited fifteen years ago, then?"
"No, no. We did not pack together that long. Though we did pack together in San Francisco when we both lived at the Western Eye. We have been best friends since we were cubs. She rited a few weeks before me, but it was in the ball park." Alicia laughs softly a she rises upwards to her feet and brushes her knees off. "But yes, about fifteen years, sixteen now." She says thoughtfully. "I am turning thirty-one in less than three months."
Felix nods, still thinking. "So... sorry, 'fraid this might be rude, an' I don't mean it to be. But I know your daughter, an', well, that doesn't mean you were pregnant when you were ritin', does it? 'cause I reckon generally alla that's hard enough already." Unclear whether he means riting or pregnancy, really, but it may not matter.
Gives a shake of her head. "Oh, no. I had her about a year after or so, maybe year and a half." Alicia ponders, then squints her eyes at him. "How do you know my daughter?"
"Well, that seems more convenient," Felix decides, nodding to the timing. The squinty-eyed question surprises him a little, and he shrugs. "I think originally I met her when she was hangin' out with Henry," he says, "an' she likes Lilah, and I randomly run into her downtown here an' there, so I guess we run in similar circles, or whatever that phrase is."
Alicia nods her head as she ponders for a moment. "Ah, yes. That is right. My tribemate is your pack Alpha. He is a good kid and has a great head on his shoulders, even if he works himself up by over thinking everything." Heading to the kitchen, she starts to dig through the fridge to pull out ingredients to make a lasagne.
"We're maybe gettin' to be friends, I reckon," Felix decides, and the description of Henry gets a grin. "See, I don't think," he says airily, leaning against a convenient bit of counter, "It's what guides me." Slightly more seriously, "Maybe havin' both of us'll cancel out. Or maybe I mean balance. That sounds better." A shrug, and he stretches. "Anythin' you'd like me to do for you? 'cause if not, if y'don't mind, I might go back out an' check on Lilah, maybe get in somea the practice I was plannin' on today if I can squeeze it in before dinner's gonna be all ready."
"It's up to you if you really want to help or not. Most of the time one would not ask. They would just do." Alicia says as she turns the faucet on and starts to wash her hands under the water, then applies a bit of soap. Once done, she begins to unwrap the pasta sheets and lay them on the bottom of a pan. "Go have fun with your girlfriend. You may not have many days left to do so."
"Wouldn't wanna get in the way," Felix says, "...and honestly I got no idea how you make lasagna, except I'm pretty sure tomato sauce gets involved somewhere along the line." He gives her the kind of boyish smile that's had a damn good record at charming second chances and special exceptions out of people over the years, though it goes more wry at her last remark. "Yeah," he replies a little more quietly, "I know." A tiny pause, and back to normal, almost teasing, "Unless that was a threat, in which case I'm real sorry an' I promise I won't do it again, whatever it was."
Eyes rolling a bit, Alicia gives her a 'shooing' motion with her hand. "Lasagne will be done in forty minutes or so." After laying down the first layer of pasta, she begins to layer on the cheese with a soft hum in her throat.
Felix salutes, and heads out before any minds can get inconveniently changed; he heads back to the garage, glancing around when he steps inside and listening to see if he can hear Lilah's breathing from there.
Lilah has actually fallen asleep, which seems to have been her plan. Her breathing is heavy and slow, and she's pretty still up there.
She's still pretty up there, too! Felix goes to take a look, climbing the ladder and settling into the pillows near Lilah to watch her for a few moments. He reaches to move a bit of hair away from her face, gently, and looks a bit torn: to wake, or not to wake?
Lilah inhales deeply as the bit of hair is brushed away from her face, seeming as though that choice may be taken from him. But then her breathing evens out again.
Felix considers for another second or so, then cuddles in closer, right against her side, and wraps an arm around her waist as he kisses her on the temple. Still not directly waking her up, although it might anyway.
It definitely seems to rouse her at least a little bit, as she flops an arm around him in return. That, and she mutters under her breath, "Speedy toad..." It doesn't seem to be an insult, and may not be addressed to him whatsoever.
Felix laughs softly. "Am not neither," he murmurs, despite the tone and likelihood it wasn't even meant for him, and puts a few soft kisses on the side of her neck. "You real tired, doll?"
"Mmffm," is Lilah's response to his retort, and she balls her hand up, rubbing at her eyes. The kisses to the side of her neck, paired with his words, seem to finish waking her up, and she slowly sits up, looking faintly confused before she remember where she is. "Hey," she greets him, smiling blearily.
Felix doesn't encourage the sitting up part, giving her a few more kisses instead. "Hey," he replies quietly, adding in a nibble, and then aiming to catch her mouth for a kiss as well. "Hope you got some rest, don't want you collapsin' out there tonight."
Lilah returns his kisses, resting a hand on his shoulder, and nods to what he has to say. "Yeah, reckon I did. How're you doin'? You feelin' okay?" Not that he has much of a chance to answer before she places a soft kiss on him. After that, though, THEN he can do so.
"...yeah, pretty okay," Felix decides, once the kiss is done, "Feelin' like I oughta respect my elders an' do as they say." And he's so very earnest about that, too. Must be body-snatchers or something. "Specifically, I'm s'posta go have fun with my girlfriend..." He claims another kiss, this one starting to get a bit less soft than the previous few, and leans a little more into her space.
Lilah arches a brow at his earnest tone, and then laughs softly at the rest. Given she knows they only have so much time before Briari returns for a night of le Puff Daddy and steaks, she wastes no time in acquiescing, pressing her body against his and helping to remove the rest of his clothing. When the time comes, she covers her mouth per the usual, though here at least it's appropriate.
Felix does a fair amount of covering her mouth with his own, 'cause he's helpful like that. Also, efficient! This time no one else comes visiting the garage, not even afterward, when he half-dozes-off cuddling her for a couple minutes, or after that when he corrals any wayward garments and brings them back for her. He doesn't bother with his own shirts or jacket or socks; he's still got practice to do in here, after all. They can wait.
It's Lilah's turn to stay awake, and when he temporarily dozes off, she watches him adoringly, careful not to move. Cuddles, of course, are more than welcome. She thanks him quietly for finding her clothes, which she of course puts back on before planting a warm kiss on his cheek.