This week has been a blip in the weather patterns for Winter-- the temperatures had been in the mid-fifties for the first half of the week and today they even stretched up into the sixties. The flocks of geese flying north overhead and spied nibbling grass seeds from soccer fields signified the early onset of spring weather, as did the returning hum of insect wings in the night.
Rafael found himself patroling his territory this evening, with the sunset almost entirely finished, offering only the faintest pink-red haze peeking from behind the mountains to the West, the rest of the sky dusky purple and bruised black-blue with rainclouds that drifted threateningly by without dumping anything yet. The warmth of the day was still hanging around in the humid air, and kids who were outside taking advantage of the weather were playing noisily, but decreasing in number as many mothers called to them to come in for dinner. His ears would catch one particularly irate woman a half a block up an adjacent street bellowing to her child that she'd 'come drag [him] back by [his] goddamn ears if [she] has to call out one more time!'
His feet were probably getting used to marching this particular path. In the city and the wild alike, wolves became very familiar with their territory and its outskirts.
Above, though Rafael couldn't see it, he could feel the moon. Tonight was the last night that it would scream the war-song to his Rage as it was doing now. If ever there was a night that he needed something to challenge him so he could spend that fire and wet his claws, it would certainly be tonight.
Maybe if he was lucky, something would cross his path.
[Let's start with a Perception + Alertness roll!]
triumph[shhhh]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )
Rafael[P+A! I READ THAT SLOWLY OKAY.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 6, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )
triumphSomewhere behind him, somebody is a'sneaking.
They're not doing a very good job of it, though.
Rafael hears: sneakers scuffing on the sidewalk as scampers, stops, scampers, stops, and so on. Rafael sees: out his peripherals, a petite figure in dark loose clothes, following behind only to dart into alleys or behind shop displays trying to go unnoticed.
They're terrible at sneaking.
RafaelStrange that he doesn't really think of this as his territory when it so clearly is. When he's so clearly territorial, at that: creature who likes knowing where he stands. Likes understanding the ground beneath his feet. Doesn't particularly care for the people, but they're part and parcel, and so he protects them too -- secondarily, and by corollary.
All of which is to say: he's on the prowl. Street-level today, hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket. Up until recently that was probably the best item of clothing he owned -- thick, real leather, with removable ceramic plates to cushion in case of a wipeout. He still wears it more than anything else, collar turned up against the cold. Stride's long and feet are sure. He's not particularly careful about the noise he makes.
Is aware of the noises made by others, though. Particularly people following him. A block, two, and then he's sure of it. He's got a tail. Turns his head like he's looking across the street and there it is in the corner of his vision, darting behind a dumpster like maybe he wouldn't see it.
The wolf stops. He turns around. When his shadow peeks out from behind that shoddy screen, he's right there staring back.
triumphRafael stopped and turned about completely to steady a stare and wait for his follower to come out and see that they'd been caught. It only takes a few moments before he gets the satisfaction of seeing the expression of somebody being busted.
The head that pops out from behind the dumpster is that of a young girl, possibly a pre-teen but possibly not quite yet there either. She had a wild looking mane of dusty blonde hair that stood high away from her head before falling back down around her shoulders and onto her back. She had tanned skin, like she spent a lot of time playing outside. Fuzzy blonde eyebrows flew up in surprise when she found that she'd been spotted, and hazel eyes that were already wide with youth widened further.
For a moment she stood there-- leaned out from behind the dumpster and looking at the Werewolf. Deer in headlights. Hand caught in cookie jar.
Then, with an intake of breath and an expression of steeling resolve, the girl stepped out from behind the dumpster, revealing that she was dressed in baggy back pants and a baggy black long-sleeved shirt as well. Like she was trying to blend in with the shadows with her attire (even though it obviously didn't help her any). With her arms stuck by her sides and pumping along with her quick steps, the girl marched quickly forward toward Rafael, but stopped a good ten feet away.
She kept her fists clenched at her sides and looked like she was being forced to take medicine and looked to the side instead of right at him, and spoke quickly in an almost sullen tone.
"I'm s'pposed to find you and bring you with me. You's the Falcon Wolf, right?"
RafaelWolf's eyebrows wrinkle together instantly. "Who the hell are you? And who the hell sends a ten year old girl out on East Colfax alone?"
triumph"Twelve."
The girl answered with petulant tone and wrinkle of her nose, the way that any child will when they're mistakenly accused of being younger than they were. At that age, every month counted toward life experience worth acknowledging.
She sniffed a little and lifted a hand to scrub under her nose with the cuff of her sleeve.
"You's invited to a real special party. A treat. A wrassle. Boss said that Falcon Wolf has the strength and the hard skull, or so we heard. The Moon--" she pointed up at the sky and continued -- "She singin' your blood song, ain't she?" Those ghost-pale eyebrows fluttered up on her dirty little forehead again. She looked dusty, but not homeless. Her clothes were clean enough, and not too tattered.
"Come on. What you got to lose, 'eh?"
Rafael"Too young," he fires back immediately.
She wipes her nose. Wolf grimaces. Kids could be so gross. He digs in his pockets, comes up with a rumpled dinner napkin, which he hands to her. Meanwhile she's talking about a special party, a wrassle; knows way too much about him.
"Not interested," he says. "Who's your boss? Where are your parents?"
RafaelDice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 7, 7) ( success x 2 )
triumphThe napkin that he offered was regarded as though it had Fuck You written on it in black marker. The girl's brow knitted together and, for the first time, she looked him right in the eyes. Her irises were hazel, no doubt, and the pupils were black as they should be, the whites white as well. But in the center of the pupil, and laced through the brown-green-gray of the iris, was a pinprick of crimson that seemed to have bled out from the center.
The sight, the moment of eye contact, caused a jolt somewhere deep in Rafael's chest and belly both-- like a cold hand reached into his very essance and chose to play a few quick notes on his spinal cord like a harp. There was an energy, an essence, that he was familiar with despite his birthright as an Ahroun instead of a Theurge.
This girl was not normal. She felt like she'd passed through the Umbra and carried some of the Spirit Essence along with her.
"Not interested," she said, throwing his words back at him but now about the napkin. If she wanted to have a snot-crusted sleeve that was her right as a free girl. Except that the free girl had a boss, apparently, whom Rafael was asking after along with her parents.
"Parents? Oh don't you worry about those. They ain't yours to be concerned about. Ain't hardly mine to be concerned with either. The Boss, though? That's Kuilis. And turnin' down Kuilis's invite? That's a mistake, Wolfman."
RafaelThere's a trickle of ice down his back.
There's a tickle of something else in the pit of his stomach. A sort of excitement; a stirring of recognition. Not of her. Not even of the otherness of her. It's something deeper and more primitive than that: recognition of the hunt. Recognition that there's a bloody raw game afoot.
He crouches. Slow and easy. Now he's eye level with this girl-who's-not-a-girl, looking carefully at her.
"Who are you really? What's this about?"
triumphThe Silver Fang crouched down so that he was now eye level with the girl. She claimed to be twelve years old, but she was petite with thin limbs and knobbly joints. Some twelve year olds were five and a half feet tall already, but this one was perhaps four and two-thirds at best. He was moving slowly and easily, perhaps so as not to trigger his own Rage, but perhaps so as not to provoke this spirit-soaked girl who had come seeking him.
When asked who she was, she looked impatient and aggravated and rolled her eyes and shook her head. Spirited though she may be, she very much acted like a middle school student.
"Even though it's super unimportant right now, I suppose you can have my name. It's Penny. The name you need to worry about is Kuilis."
She jerked her head back over her shoulder, in the direction they'd come from. "I already told you what this is about-- what makes you think I was lying to you, huh? Boss told me that you Wolves is at War, but you ain't at War with everyone and everything. This ain't no trap. It's an invitation. To a wrasslin' party. Now, it's rude to turn it down. Sometimes Boss gets all riled up, but hey?" She grinned, and it was a cheshire thing. "Maybe that'll make it more fun.
"Now," she spoke with a note of finality and leaned backward, like she was stretching her body to begin walking away soon. "You comin', or what?"
RafaelHe leans back, sits on his heels. Frowns.
"Feels like a trap to me," he says, and despite it, stands. "I'll come along. For now."
triumphThe girl-- this 'Penny' as she called herself-- shook her head and rolled her eyes again. She beckoned to him to follow her with a wag of a couple of fingers toward her palm, then turned around and started to walk up the sidewalk.
As she went, she reached into the deep pockets of her large pants and produced a pack of Newports. Started tapping them into her palm to pack them and spoke as she went.
"Soldiers are so paranoid of traps. I get this all the time. They tells the Boss 'maybe you should change how you send invitations?' Boss don't like change. Boss laughs, says 'maybe you should sack the fuck up'.
"What's ya name, Falcon Wolf?"
Rafael"Jesus, are you kidding me?" wolf mutters. "You can't smoke. Not if you're gonna pretend to be a little girl. Someone's going to report you to CPS."
Follows, though. Catches up, walks alongside her.
"Rafael. What's this Boss Kuilis like?"
triumphPenny laughed openly and went on chimp-knuckle-smacking the cigarettes into her palm for a few more strokes before holding the pack up and shaking a few cigarettes loose. One came free and was put between her lips. The pack was offered back to him as well-- whether he accepted or declined was inconsequential. The girl would light up and the pack would ultimately find its way back into a pocket in her pants.
"One, I'm not pretending to be a little girl-- I am not a little girl. I'm twelve, I told you. Just because I'm different doesn't make me not what I am. Two, you kiddin'? This is Colfax. East Colfax. Nobody gives a shit-- they all jus' glad I don't have a needle hangin' out my arm."
Smoke would swirl miasma-like around her hand and face as she smoked and walked. She glanced up at him and grinned. "Oh, you gonna like Boss. Boss brings the ruckus, the kind you War Moons like. Rewards the winners too. This is gonna be fun, you gotta relax more. Nothin' more fun than bleedin' with friends."
Her grin was sharp-- not literally, her teeth were still blunt and square, but her eyes were still bright and red-laced and spirited. She'd lead him on.
Onward they would walk. She was willing to talk as they walked, but her chatter wasn't necessarily the most interesting thing in the world if left undirected, and she didn't like playing twenty-one questions and would stop if pressed too hard. She'd chatter about great burger joints and how she got this scar on her knee and this time when an earring got yanked out in a fight because she's a tussler too you know and...
They along Colfax for about three blocks until they came to a stretch of storefronts close together. There was a narrow alley between two of them that she'd lead them down-- light didn't touch back here. The building on the left had three doors down its brick length, and she picked the very last one. Tapped on the lock with her finger three times before opening the door. Inside-- concrete steps leading down to a hallway with a bare bulb light hanging on its cord.
She waved her hand to lead him in while holding the door open with her back.
"We gonna take the tunnel."
RafaelA beat's hesitation; then he takes a cigarette. Catches the lighter when she tosses it over. There's practice in the way he cups flame to tobacco. He hands the lighter back, shoves his hands in his pockets, squares his shoulders to the wind.
Snorts a laugh at the needle-in-arm line. She's probably right. Damn if he's going to say so though.
"Seems like a bad idea," he mutters -- but follows anyway. Curious maybe. Or just stubborn.
Onward they walk. She prattles on. It's very dull to the wolf, who answers in monosyllabic grunts. Listens as she talks about fighting, earrings yanked out; what the fuck. He's given up trying to figure out what the hell she is. For now, anyway.
When she stops, he sniffs the air audibly. Peers distrustfully down the steps. Grabs the hanging bulb and points it down, looks to see how deep the steps are.
"Yeah, this doesn't look suspicious at all," he grumbles. Starts down.
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