[Cordelia] Half of her mouth upturned, it's not a half smirk. It's more of a quarter smirk. Cordelia just watches him and shakes her head. Cordelia puts the string down on the ground.
She then takes a second, and choses her words ever so carefully-
"I want you," and she is doing so carefully. English isn't her first language... or her second, or to be quite honest, her fifth language. English is just something she picked up out of necessity, though the structure, "to call nine-eleven if I fall out of the tree. Si?"
She smiles all sweet and puppy dog pleeeeaaaaaase at him.
"... and I want you to never speak Spanish again. You make my language cry. Es verdad."
[Linus] "Fine but only if A) I get to laugh when you hit the ground and B) if you teach me how to say 'Fuck you' in Mexican..."
He offers a flourish of a gloved hand at the Tree as if inviting her to take a shot, all broad smiles and fluttering eyes of the sardonic.
[Cordelia] "A- si, B-" pronounced like ah, and beh instead of aye and bee, "-done."
She looks at the tree like it's some kind of challenge. Like it's a trial to overcome because damnit she pair three dollars and forty-seven cents for that kite and she is getting it back now. She swings her arms back and forth, and the female takes a running start. She is, in her own right, a graceful and gifted sort of thing, bt there is no fanfare in this.
Graceful does not equal athletic.
She runs, jumps, and grabs the branch.hell, she even pulls herself up enough that she ends up folded over the branch. Cordelia lets out some triumphant sound, an effeminate but successful yop. Until, of course, she realizes her center of gravity is off and now there's a kite and a well-bred Fang stuck in a tree.
[Cordelia] "... I haven't fallen out, you-" pronounced more like choo "don't get to laugh yet."
[Linus] "...You ain't come down yet either, so don't go cluckin' victory like I'm all out of luck. I feel me a giggle comin'..."
It's spoken in some southern twang, the fellow leaning out to pat a rotund stomach that isn't there. He watches the Young woman climb and clamber and freeze near her kite, lips pulled off to one side. It's only when she's been stuck there for a few more seconds that he takes a few middling steps toward her. Nothing hurried or chivalrous mind you. More curious and amused.
"This might be in bad taste but-" And he plucks a chocolate bar from out of his pocket, beginning the slow process of unwrapping it from a safe twelve feet away "-could you howl like a monkey for me for just one minute? Or wait there for ten while I go find a disposable camera and catch this for posterity?"
He lifts a hand, pausing his unwrapping momentarily to flash fingers in a line, as if reading some Newspaper article headline.
"Royal Fang gets in Royal Mess. Defeated by Tree. Falcon knows shame for Decades."
And a Grin.
[Cordelia] "Not defeated, inconvenienced," she said, "I meant to do this."
She sounds so very very serious, too, except she can't keep a straight face long enough to do it. She reaches up to keep them from falling off. She tries to sling one leg up, which kind of works, then she loses her balance and ends up hanging onto the branch like a squirrel in an earthquake.
He says something else, and Cordelia almost gives him the finger, but that would involve letting go of the branch long enough to do so.
Royal Fang gets in Royal Mess. Defeated by Tree. Falcon knows shame for Decades.
"Thank god Falcon doesn't use Youtube."
[Linus] "That's what little shits with Camera phones are for, actually..."
He hooks a thumb off to their right, thirty yards off a small trope of bicycle hoodlums no more than fourteen or so, paused on the curve of the Bike Trail that runs through much of Grant Park, pointing and snickering to themselves. At least three of them have phones out, pointed in her direction, the distant 'click-bzzz' of pictures being taken easily audible even in the wind.
He doesn't so much shoo at them as he poses, with a wave and a point at Cordelia for effect.
[Cordelia] Linus points, and waves. She gives them the finger, but has such a chipper smile on her face that it's hard to tell if she's mad or not.
"Es verdad," she either has no shame, or has no sense of embarrassment, or... well... who knows. The blonde finally makes more progress to where she's actually sitting on the branch. She scoots over a little. The branch wobbles, and she holds on.
Scoot. Wobble. Pause. Repeat.
"... so, I'm Cordelia," she finally introduces herself. Scoot. wobble. Pause. Wobblewobbleclingforlife.
[Linus] "...Yeah that sounds about right."
He takes a rather large bite out of the chocolate bar, stuffing the contents into the hollow of one cheek while staring up at her with a certain level of expectation.
"This is either gonna end with the branch snapping or a looney tunes catapult launch into a nearby garbage can. Either way, I'm pretty sure shit's gonna get funny real quick."
He takes another bite of the chocolate bar.
"If you manage to make it down though i'll give you some of my Kit kat."
[Cordelia] "What sounds about right?" she looks confused, and now, now comes the tricky part. the female puts a hand on one branch, steadies herself, and starts to stand up, her upper body is lost int he strees, and the string on the kite jumps a little, and there's silence for the time being.
A frisbee comes flying out of the tree and hits a nearby bench. It hits with a rather unappealing plop. Then, Cordelia keeps working on her kite.
She's precariously perched.
"You promise?" she asks, "I shouldn't take candy from strangers."
[Linus] "Don't worry about it. Name's Linus."
He munches another part of the bar, now half gone and continues to watch as she struggles with the Kite, a glance given to the Frisbee which has only a few seconds to land before some enterprising Terrier comes tearing across the park after it, snatching the plastic piece up and high tailing it back toward his yelling owner a good ways off.
"...And yeah sure, I promise. I expect you to be down here soon anyway, though you might want to hurry on that. Not sure how much is gonna be left." A pause. "You should have brought up a knife or something to cut the string out."
[Cordelia] "Like Linus y Lucy?"
The fang, amidst the trees, proceeds to sing the Charlie Brown themesong. Sixteen bars is enough to get it across. She tugs, and whatever she's doing up there with the kite seems to be completely mysterious. She could be brokering some deal with the squirrel gods at this point, though it's really hard to tell.
The string jumps, then jumps, and jumps again.
It finally snaps. She's aboutat the point of the Charlie Brown theme that is about to change when it does, and down came Blondie-kite and all.
She makes a series of undignified noises, and squeels in absolute shock. A branch breaks, and down the goes. Cordelia hits the ground like a sack of well-bred potatoes. The branch comes tumbling after, but gets stuck on the way down.
She's holding the kite in front of her. Intact.
[Linus] Cordelia falls and...well Linus thought process is swift and degrading:
This is going to be funny.
Wait, Silver Fang right?
Falcon's brood = Pain in the ass.
Which = Angry elders.
Trueborn in the area? = Yours truly.
Save girl fucking hell = Shift
Public Park = No Shift
Save Girl = ....Awwww Mannnnnn
Linus is grimacing even as he drops the Kit Kat and steps under Cordelia, grunting, cursing and bellowing as she falls in a heap atop him, his arms and strength doing nothing of the chivalrous and dignified comforts one might imagine from a would-be hero. Instead, he's flat on his stomach, groaning and lifting his head after a few seconds to start shouting.
"Git off me already you half-brained giraffe, I ain't a throw pillow." One hand reaches back, planting on an ass-check and shoving Cordelia bodily backward, Kite and All, while he shimmys and shoves in the opposite direction.
The kids with the Camera Phones are having a laugh riot about now, another round of click-bzzz making it's way to their ears.
[Cordelia] "Ow," is the only thing she says.
Cordelia half rolls over, and sits up. She's got leaves in her hair, little dead twigs, and her ponytail is past being fashionably messy and has moved to the realm of legitimately messy. Her glasses are nowhere to be found, so she's reduced to squinting at him because she's pretty sure she's landed on Linus.
She doesn't stand up just yet, she just holds onto her kite for dear life.
"Tu eres de worst pillow ever," she grumbles, "gracias."
[Linus] "If you weren't royal, I'd throw you in the lake. With no Arms. And Rocks. Lots of them. On Fire. From Mt. Fuckin' Vesuvius." A pause. "...During a lightning storm."
He manages to extract himself for the most part, wincing slightly as he pulls himself up and to his feet, hands climbing into the small of his back which he stretches out with a series of small pops and twists of arm and hips. The scarf is undone and laid to dangle nearly to knees on both sides, while the jacket is laid open to allow him to breathe a little better.
"You happy now? Got your kite and everyth- Awww man!" He crouches down, picking up what's left of his Kit Kat, covered in dirt and a few bits of leaves. He plucks at the pieces, scowling at the tainted bar, trying to brush the detritus off with his fingers.
[Cordelia] She places her hand over to try and find her glasses, and she finally finds the awful pop bottle rims. She sighs and puts them on. One of her lenses is cracked, but overall it doesn't seem to be too big of a problem. He picks up what's left of his Kit Kat, and erupts into open displeasure.
She cocks her head to the side and frowns. The giraffe heads out that way, and shakes her head. Cordelia signs and reaches forward. If not interrupted, she takes him by the end and starts to half-drag him off to god-knows-where.
"Come on," she says, "I owe you."
If he doesn't let her drag him anywhere, of course, she would stop. put her hands down, and stare expectantly/hopefully/apologetically at her poorly-padded savior.
[Linus] He'd be plucked up still mourning the chocolate bar and after a good five steps, beginning walking in step with her enough not to be dragged anymore. He is still inspecting the Kit Kat rather excessively, finally coming to the conclusion that most of it is unsalvagable. A quick surgical snap and most of the bar is hucked behind him with a small 'hwup' sound uttered. What remains is a small chunk of chocolate that nearly vanishes into his mouth...
...Followed quickly enough by a glance out of the corner of his eye. The piece is snapped in half again, the quarter of a mouthful, offered to her as they walk, while the other vanishes into his jaws, munching away absently.
"So I didn't think Silver fangs could be Mexican. Something about Latino minorities and dirty sanchez'.."
[Cordelia] She takes the quarter of a mouthful and raises it up in mock salute. Cordelia eats Kit Kat bars one layer at a time. The top layer goes, then the next, then the next, until finally there's no more chocolate bar there.
"Not Mexican," she corrects him, "Spanish. Soy de España. You know... slaughter of various indigenous peoples, imperialism, dogmatic superiority complexes... Spain and Silver Fangs? Chocolate y peanut butter."
She shrugs, and puts her hands back into her pockets.
[Linus] "Oh you're the other guys."
As if that explained everything. They're walking through the park at something half-kin to brisk, Linus' gait more used to something relaxed or casual, as if he were observing the world rather than passing it by. He takes in their surroundings with reflexive glances and flitting stares, only occasionally sneaking looks toward Cordelia, mostly when she's speaking. He dusts and wipes his hands down on his pant legs, before moving up to bundle the long coat once more and re-tie the scarf around his neck.
"Tacky Gold Everythings and a powerful need for Salsa music." He flicks a hand out at a falling leaf threatening to cross his path, missing it by a country mile. "...And you're in Chicago because..."
[Cordelia] "I do have a powerful need for salsa music," she says. She nods, and it's a gesture that looks a little like a bobble head. Up and down and up and down and then it stops.
Cordelia has determined a way to amble bruskly. She doesn't look like she's walking with purpose, but she doesn't look down. She doesn't slump. she doesn't slouch at all- Cordelia stands tall and she doesn't compromise on it.
"Diplomacy," she tells him, "my sister's pack may come here and my parents wanted to know if Chicago was worth the investment."
[Linus] "...So....they sent a Kin..."
His bewilderment is something both honest and blunt-force-traumatic. A certain level of disbelief creeps into his tone, though he doesn't seem entirely aware enough to make it exaggerated. Yet.
[Cordelia] "Better options were busy."
[Linus] "Kin aren't options, for fuck's sake, they're..."
The best word available right now is 'liabilities' but Linus and his Tribe didn't believe in such things. To do so would admit a certain level of weakness on their part and that just wouldn't be allowed. Carve out the blight. Instead-
"...You send in True. Send some bodies to make nice with the local elders. Chat up a few other tribesmates. You don't go sending a kin in to test the waters, be bullied about and end up on the short stick with the short bus kids, looking for handouts while she's got a Tiara for blood. Asking for trouble..."
[Cordelia] "They're what?" her voice is a lot sharper than she realizes it is, and tempers slightly, "I'd love to know."
She stops walking and just looks at him. It's pointed, the corners of her mouth have pulled inward and one brow has raised. She doesn't hold it for long, and instead she continues on with walking in the direction she had chosen.
Her response is calmed, and she half shrugs, "kin can, and do, work with the informal structure of a city. Which are just as important, and overlooked. And what do you mean asking for trouble?"
[Linus] "Asking for Trouble. As in, unescorted, Purebred Royal bodies ripe for Spiral baby makin' wandering around a new and strange city getting kites stuck in trees. You'd think half the damn nation didn't know what the hell security was anymore for Fuck's sake. I'm convinced this entire city is half-way to the Dog kennels, things are so backwards in the ass."
He bats at another leaf flying through the air without looking at her.
"Kin can help. I never said they couldn't. That doesn't mean they should be allowed to wander like snow whites and shit."
[Cordelia] "What makes you think I'm the rule and not the exception? You're no witch, you're not offering tight corsets and poisoned combs and apples."
He bats at another leaf and she looks at him again, incredulous. She waits for the next leaf. He's watching the road, and she's watching him. It's become completely different.
"Or are you? Is this a trick of a test. I know your name... maybe," then, she is suspicious. And has slowed down.
[Gwen Sullivan] Cordelia and Linus were having a political back-and-forth at the end of the park further from pedestrian traffic, away from the Fountain and the Bean and all other such tourist-drawing attractions. The sky was clear and blue like the painted wall of a baby boy's bedroom, the air warm and the sun low in the west, preparing to paint the horizon in tones of pink and orange instead. In with the trees and the narrow paths the shadows prevailed, the sun on the autumn leaves creating something of a stained glass effect on the ground where it managed to break through.
Gwen had parted from work early today, yet again her Rage had hindered her job, she'd gnashed teeth at a customer and her father, frowning with concern and irritation both, had thrown her jacket at her as a not-so-subtle sign for her to hit the road. So she had-- but rather than taking the city bus home she'd hopped off early to take a mind-clearing stroll around the park instead.
In progress, she'd found herself at a point where voices cut into her thought process, and she'd looked up to find a ridiculously tall, unhealthily thin blonde girl and a face that was stamped in the pages of her photographic memory. Her molars clicked together, and she stopped walking and stood at the bend of the path some forty yards away, watching openly without approaching (something about wolves and territory and all that compelling this decision).
She had the appearance of a typical teenager, in a three-quarter sleeve sports shirt, with the body white and the sleeves green, a pair of jeans and sneakers, and an abundance of bracelets. Her hair was tied back, save for the bangs that stayed free, and dyed back to a dark brown from that horribly flamboyant red that Linus would remember matching so well with the red-and-white circus tents a couple weeks back.
[Linus] "Kind of like her."
He points. At Gwen. Like some foreigner found on the tip of immigrations propaganda posters.
"Wandering around all lost and found without something or someone to keep and eye on her and what the fuck?" The last few words are a shrug of incomprehension directed at Gwen as they come to the bend she is waiting at, his eyes narrowed and his features a cast of frowning, scowling and familiar cursing.
"Have you found a Home yet? Or someone to tell you what not to do when faced with Demonic creatures of the Vanishing Freaks?"
A pause. A flick of a glance off toward Cordelia, his hand rising to flash between the two.
"Cord, Gwen. Gwen, Cord. Do that girly glee thing you people tend to do 'n get it over with."
[Gwen Sullivan] Linus points, then proceeds to call a question out to her. Gwen's nose wrinkled a little bit, her hands jammed into her jeans pockets, and she started walking forward, teeth clicking on her lip ring as she moved, walking in a way that ate distance quickly, shifting gears from meandering to having a destination to reach.
"I'm still feeling that one out for myself." Her tone of speech was dry, her voice raspy like the dead leaves that skittered on the ground around them whenever a breeze chose to pass through, something that would've been more appealing to the general public a handful of decades ago than what it was now. Her eyes hopped over, and up, to the Kinfolk accompanying Linus. "But at least I know how to take an ass kicking and live."
To Cordelia, the upward jerk of a chin that constituted a proper greeting in most of America's youth these days. "Hey." And that made up the rest of it.
[Cordelia] Cordelia needs to gain some freakin' weight. It's at the point of ridiculous. She's tall, very very tall, and thin enough that there's a chance that there is no way in Hell the runways in Milan would let her walk. There's a difference between being conventionally pretty and being apt to making babies. Now, breeding dictates that Cordelia would be some sort of little-full-moon-making-machine, but the problem is that she's nearly six feet tall, underweight, and generally looks like making aforementioned babies would probably snap her in half.
It's problematic.
Cordelialooks at Gwen and smiles. her teeth are clean and straight and white and she smiles all confident and stuff. (And stuff seems to be her best descriptor.) There's dirt on her cheek and twigs in her hair. She's a mess, but she's got a kite with her like it is the prize from a hunt.
So, blonde nodswith a tilt of her chin, "sup?"
Oh, and did we mention that she's got one Hell of a thick accent? It makes American slang odd to hear.
[Linus] "...There. Now that you've both butchered the delicate art of introductions, Let's go find some hot chocolate somewhere, preferably with a cute wait...ress..." He pauses slowly, turning to regard something...not...quite...there. His frown is more genuine this time. Less whiny. Full and unfashionable. A quick flick of lips curling and he mutters something unintelligible (like the crackling of fire that noise) before turning back to the pair.
"One of you is buying, by the way."
He begins walking again, stopping briefly to slap at a leaf that deftly avoids each of his blows, before continuing the pace once more.
"...And yes, You're the Exception. You talk to strangers, accept their candy and ask them for help with your kites. Alice wasn't that stupid and she did drugs and talked to inanimate objects."
[Gwen Sullivan] The trailing off is something to note, or so decides the girl who gets by on noticing everything around her. The Godi's head turns, his eyes find a middle ground between focus and not, and his face is fitted with a frown. Gwen attempts to locate whatever caught his attention, but doubtlessly with no avail. The next minute he's talking again, even while she's trying to figure out the mumble, and then he's walking, and Cordelia and Gwen are left unsure.
Gwen's eyes, caught somewhere in the uncertain tones of hazel, hop up to the stork-girl's face, then to Linus's shoulders before she shrugs and starts walking as well.
"So," she said, "the topic at hand is the habits and behaviors of your typical stupid white girl?"
Again, the tone of voice is bland, but it's trailing off with distraction. She keeps offering side-glances to Cordelia, watching the way she walked, the way she held her shoulders, perhaps trying to find the right word for her hair color (corn silk? high noon sun?), wondering how she was able to stand without gravity snapping her bird bones into splinters. In truth, she was noticing the breeding, but not understanding what it was or why she sensed it. That was a whole new deck of cards to her.
[Cordelia] "... would you prefer going somewhere with unattractive waitresses?" she looks confused for a second. Cordelia cocks her head to the side and reaches up with her free hand to pick some of the twigs out of her hair. She looks at the twig, then flicks it away. It goes off flying into the wild blue yonger.
Gwen keeps looking at her, and Cordelia doesn't seem to change her gait. If there's any doubt that she is, in some sense, royal, there's none in her. Cordelia stands tall, nearly six feet tall in fact, with her shoulders back and her head high and unapologetic. She's less like a terrified giraffe when she has both feet on the ground.
Which adds to the disconnect, because she has the worst glasses in the world, that are now cracked, and she looks like an utter mess.
"So," she offers Gwen, "I'm being trouble. Talking to strangers, eating their candy. I even jog at night. The fact that I haven't died horribly yet is either sheer dumb luck or something divine likes me."
[Gwen Sullivan] "Sounds like sheer dumb luck to me," is Gwen's flat, unhelpful statement. "Why the hell would you jog at night?"
[Linus] "...Divinity is a lie."
An absent-minded, almost casual dismissal. Reflexive, as if he were not commenting but responding to some age old lesson ingrained by elders with short tempers and shorter sticks. He grunts at the end of it, as if trying to deny the phrase's existence before halting in place (quick enough to bump into if they weren't paying attention) and then turning arbitrarily toward the next bend in the path.
"...She's special as things gets, our girl Cord. Coke bottle eyes. No warden to speak of telling her all the rights and wrongs of the lifestyle. You'd think the Fangs had something better to do like...oh I don't know...be all Rain Man on the throne..." He grumbles something under his breath, scowling at the path they're on.
"Swear I've passed this rock when I came through here last time..." He changes directions abruptly, curving east.
[Cordelia] "Why the hell would you jog at night?
"Because I'm full of shit, I don't actually jog at night, or at all. I hate jogging," she waves a hand at it.
She rolls her eyes, and actually manages to not fidget with whatever it is she's wearing for the time being. It's problematic for her, but that's neither here nor there. She catches what Linus says and almost doesn't catch the direction change. She opens her mouth and he veers east.
Cordelia makes a vaguely military-styled turn and follows.
"And who says divinity is a lie? Hmmn?"
[Gwen Sullivan] The abrupt halting on one man's part is cause for the sudden skid of rubber soles on pavement. Gwen doesn't bump into Linus's back, but she does stop short and toss her attention from left to right, because when people stop like that it's for a good reason, right?
I swear I've passed this rock...
The cub's eyes are glued in disbelief to the side of the Cliath's head, then she makes a noise that's caught between a grunt and a sigh, and calls after Linus. "If you don't know where you're going, do you still have the right to lead?"
She'd tested the boundaries of dominance before, and that had been under the wrong set of teeth. She was somewhat hesitant to do so again, but was growing to understand that it was downright inevitable. So she wouldn't sass, she wouldn't insult or ignore, but she wasn't ducking her head so much either.
[Cordelia] "... so, how do you two know each other? I'm not so sure that this isn't going to end with me dead in a dumpster."
She eyes Linus and Gwen.
[Linus] "Because I'm older, wiser and more badass then you right now, Kid."
It's Linus' only answer, still not turning back to stare at either of the two girls, pausing and going with each new movement through the landscape of Grant Park. They are steadily heading west, if a little sporadically. It isn't until they reach the far edge of a small copse of trees, that he pauses and sets his hands on his hips.
"Of course we are going for Hot Chocolate, not being superheroes or anything." He pauses, turning to look back at Gwen and nodding her forward.
"You can lead. Lead us to Chocolate."
He turns toward Cordelia afterward, perking a brow in consideration.
"If I wanted you dead, eaten and buried, I woulda led you away somewhere. Or let you fall out of the tree on your damn own. Or any number of other horrible things that I haven't done because right now all I want is some damn Hot chocolate."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen leveled her typical deadpan stare at Linus when he explains that he's a bigger badass (she wouldn't argue that until she had more battle-faith in herself) and that's why he got to lead (though she would argue that collective logic as a whole). He looked between her and Cordelia, then nodded for her to go forward, since they were just looking for hot chocolate, not anything really important. So she nodded, quirked one side of her mouth in a brief, flitting appearance of a grin, and moved ahead of the two to lead them to a cafe she knew of, across the broad streets that framed the city's most well-known park.
He and Cordelia talked, and Gwen commented over her shoulder, again unhelpful but sounding as though she was trying to be despite it.
"If she fell out of a tree, she'd break her bird-bones, then you couldn't use her later." Beat. "Hypothetically."
And back to marching forward.
[Cordelia] "I did fall out of a tree, right on top of Linus. I think I have bruises... or at least bruised pride. Es wounded, no bueno," she heaves an overly dramatic sigh, because she seems to enjoy it.
She listens to Gwen, and she should pale. her brows do raise, and the giraffe looks somewhere between surprised and confused, like the words aren't quite coming together or whatever she just said didn't quite translate out properly in her pretty little Spanish head.
"Yo no soy birdboned, soy slightly underweight. Es different."
She was slightly underweight, like Linus was kind of Fenrir and the sky was sort of blue Homegirl might have curves, but if she has them, they're hidden under her clothes or she's trying, desperately, to get rid of them.
[Linus] "Hahaha..."
It's Linus only real reaction to the girl's and their 'semantics'. He follows along in the wake of the leading Gwen, hands stuffed in pockets, eyes on not quite anything at all.
(Ordering pizza, Will be slow.)
[Gwen Sullivan] "Define 'slightly'," is all she really seems to have to say to the stork-like Kinfolk, and it's paired with a long glance over her shoulder at the other young woman before she looks forward again, hands in her pockets still, stride simultaneously certain and wandering, it seemed.
She'd pause before they stepped away from the trees and out into the long open plane of grass and statues and tourist eyesores/artist namesakes, shuffling the toes of her sneakers against the dead leaves that followed on the breeze, and took in a deep breath of the smell of autumn. It was one of her favorite seasons, just for the smell of the leaves. She'd come to enjoy that, so precisely as she had done when entering the park, she exited with enough of that smell in her lungs to linger for the night.
With that done, she'd lead the rest of the way, across the park, past the Bean, and off to a corner of the city block that Grant Park took up where she'd pause at a street light and thumb the button that would start up the signal for them to walk. Some thirty seconds later the lights changed, the flow of traffic shifted, and they crossed the street, headed toward a small hole-in-the-wall looking cafe that came complete with the chairs and tables out front and the little green awning over the door and window.
[Linus] Linus' steps grow further and further distant, slowing as they make their way toward the Cafe in question. It isn't until they're several blocks distant that he pauses and turns to look back the way they came. He grumbles something incomprehensible again and turns to look back at Gwen with something akin to seriousness.
"You take her home when you're done talking. Make sure she gets there."
and then, without another word, he begins walking back toward Grant Park, unbutton his coat and bundling and pocketing his scarf along the way.
[Cordelia] "Sarah Palin is slightly conservative, the sky is slightly blue-"
She stops and catches Linus grumbling something that she doesn't understand. Cordelia purses her lips and watches him. He heads off on his way, and starts to unwind his scarf. He's putting things together, getting ready for...
Something. She stops.
"... huh."
She tries to put things together, and she fails miserably. She lacks the knowledge base necessary to get through that train of thought.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen scoffed and did a valiant job of resisting digging her thumb into the ribs of the girl who had a whole half a foot of height in advantage to her, but that wasn't all on her own: she had some help from Linus.
The Godi caught her and Cordelia's attention both, stopping what could easily be construed as bickering with puzzlement. The Kinfolk stared curiously after Linus, and the cub watched him with a stern expression on her face. He unbuttoned his coat and took off his scarf as he went, which translated into business in her mind. He was loosening his clothes so he could move easier, more quickly. It meant that he'd noticed something, then either figured it out or confirmed it once they'd crossed the street. He was going back, and she had half a mind to accompany, but was stopped with orders to escort.
So she huffed out a breath through her nostrils, then looked almost gloomily up at Cordelia.
"So did you still want that drink, or should I just take you home now?"
Note the irony in a girl who had to be sixteen years old escorting a grown woman home.
[Cordelia] "Aw, you don't like babysitting?"
The irony, it seems, is not entirely lost on her. She walks a little faster at this point; her legs are long, so she can cover a lot of ground. She stands with her shoulders back, head high, and completely unafraid of what might be going on right behind them.
Of course, that must be a little bit of a show. Cordelia is walking a little faster and a little more purposefully than she had been before.
"Let's go home."
Just keep walking.
[Gwen Sullivan] Now, Gwen was about average sized for an American woman, maybe just an inch or so on the taller side (considering that the average woman was about 5'4", give or take). She could cover some distance when she wanted to, she'd run track for a couple of years in junior high and high school both. However, she wasn't running, and her legs weren't nearly so long as Cordelia's, so when the Kinfolk picked up the pace, it wasn't long before she was leaving Gwen in the dust, and the cub had to trot to catch up.
"Jesus Christ, lady, could you slow it down a bit? Not all of us walk on stilts."
And whether she slowed or not, Gwen pushed the green sleeves of her baseball tee up and tightened the ponytail that her hair was pulled into. "Can't we take a bus or something? Chicago's a big fucking city, you know."
[Cordelia] Even compared to Spanish women, Cordelia is tall. She is incredibly tall, and she's not even wearing heels today. She's taller than the average American man. She's taller than a few garou. Hell, she's taller than her boyfriend. That's intense to think about.
Cordelia starts to slow down a little, enough that Gwen isn't... you know... trotting.
"There is a bus that'll get us there. Two blocks from here."
A beat.
"Aren't your parents worried about you?"
[Gwen Sullivan] "That's good." The bus, that is. It was good that the woman knew which buses went where, and that she wasn't lost, that she knew how to get from mid-city to her home, wherever that may be, whoever she may be living with (because she sure didn't sound like she was from America, she didn't look like she was from South America, except maybe Brazil but then she'd be speaking Portuguese and not Spanish).
Gwen wasn't out of breath from trying to keep up, she was conditioned, and like any good wolf she could go on for miles and miles without losing her wind. Her hands didn't slip back into her pants pockets just yet, but rather her fingers (nails painted a neon pink this week) kept themselves busy by plucking at and rearranging the multiple jelly bracelets at her wrists, another sure mark of her being a teenager.
Aren't your parents worried about you?
This gets a glance upward at the Kinfolk, a long stare complete with a dissatisfied thinning of lips as they're pressed tightly together, and then, finally, an answer as flat as any other statement she's made this evening.
"Intensely." Sniff. "Why?"
[Cordelia] "Because you're a rage-filled death machine, and from what I've gathered... Linus outranks you," she says. It's offhanded. Just a random remark.
She continues, and once she can see the street she slows down to that slow ambling pace. Cordelia sighs, and doesn't even flinch at being stared at. She stops for a moment, reaching up and taking her glasses. She inspects the crack in one of the lenses.
Without her glasses on, she's... well, she's pretty. She has full lips. She has pretty hair, somewhere between flaxen and honey golden. It's like Superman and Clark Kent. She frowns at her glasses, openly displeased at the fracture in the lenses.
"I'm just curious."
[Gwen Sullivan] "Not entirely, not just yet."
The girl played with her lip ring, this was something that drove her mother insane. She kept insisting that Gwen would chip a tooth on the damn thing someday, but as was true with any person with a mouth piercing, be it tongue, upper lip, labret, what have you... it was a force of habit, something she forgot she was doing even while in the process of doing such.
"Linus, Fire-Claws, Roman, Kora, Simon... Pretty much everybody outranks me. It's not much of an accomplishment when you don't have a rank."
She glanced sidelong at Cordelia once more, and only stopped walking, only idled when they made it to that bus stop. Until then, she kept walking forward, even if Cordelia slowed down to a point where Gwen would bypass her. She trusted that the Kin could and would keep up easily.
"...I'm new to everything still, and there are a lot of things I don't understand. I should have someone that I ask all these things, but I don't, so I ask who I can. Right now? That's you. My question: what is so drawing about you? I don't get it, but I know it's there, and I've... felt it before off other people too."
[Frost] Cordelia's status as freakishly tall is offset by the platinum blonde that steps out of a nearby Starbucks, sipping a raspberry mocha. She's casually dressed in levis and Neon Black tee shirt. Industrial boots that just look made for curb stomping, lace up her calves. Blue eyes play up and down the street as she notes who's where and doing what.
[Cordelia] She takes a second, and muses.
"I want to help you out," she tells Gwen. She seems to think about this, and go over the pros and cons and what she can do, exactly, to help Gwen out, "es honorable to help kin of other tribes. Especially without benefit to yourself, which this should constitute as. If I see Katherine, I'll say good things. Es Gwen, right?"
She leaves that where it is, because that seemed to be where she was. Cordelia stops at the bus stop, and she sits down at the bench. When she's sitting down, she isn't near as imposing. For Gwen, who probably hasn't had a lot of experience with people like Cordelia. OF the list of people she just listed, there wasn't a single Silver Fang in there.
"Es... hmmn. Es breeding."
She stops a second.
"Es odd... but it's a mark of your ancestors and the sacrifices they made and their achievements. It's who you came from. But it's not just that... it's... complicated. It's both who you came from and spiritual loyalty. With me? Well- uh... Do you know about Silver Fangs?"
[Gwen Sullivan] Her mouth pressed to the side some while she listened to Cordelia speak. It didn't bother her much at first because she didn't know enough to be bothered, but not having a tribe, a pack, or anything like that? It was starting to weigh on her a bit. She had no affiliations or alliances, and while she believed she could handle whatever was thrown at her initially now she felt more and more lost as the weeks rolled on.
Cordelia sat, and Gwen leaned against the side of the bench that the giraffe-kin had settled into, securing her hip against the rubber-and-plastic coated metal structure and folding her arms over an incredibly average sized bust.
"You don't know... I could be your tribe and just not know it yet." Her smile was grim and didn't touch her gray-green eyes. "But what would you intend to do to help me out, huh?"
Breeding was mentioned, and this was worth contemplation, but went without comment. Her eyes drifted up the street to search for the bus while she thought about all the nuances of breeding, of perpetuating the race, of Kinfolk and Garou and how they're supposed to go together and how it was their duty to be that way...
...but rather than finding a bus, she spotted a face that she'd only seen once but recognized instantly anyways. The name took a moment to pair up, but even when she remembered ('Frost') she didn't call out. She'd only met the woman once, briefly, vaguely, and wouldn't know what to say to her anyways.
[Frost] Pale blue eyes meet briefly with Gwen's as she strolls in their direction, her long stride casual, but ground eating. She too recognizes Gwen, but not her companion, and she looks the other woman over with a trained eye as she approaches.
[Gwen Sullivan] "Oh,"
an addendum:
"Silver Fangs are the kings and queens-- or they like to think so anyways. That's what you are, then?"
[Cordelia] She looks at Frost, who surpasses Cordelia in title of Supreme Tallest, and she smiles. She's got a pretty smile, and since she's holding her dorky glasses in hand she looks a lot less nerdy and a lot... well... a lot more regal. Of course, she doesn't look like she should have the accent she has- Cordelia looks overwhelmingly anglo.
"We took our original homidkin from literal royals... but... we believe that it's our duty to act as leaders for the nation," she nods. And there's absolutely nothing apologetic about it. Just the facts, "but, es dificil determining what leadership is."
She then stops, and looks at Gwen again. It's intent, intense, and set on something.
"I plan on telling people that you helped me. You took me home and made sure I was safe and made certain that we were not in danger. You did something that was completely selfless... also, if you ever need anything, tell me, and I'll.. eh... bust my ass?" she's looking at her like she's looking for the right words there. Like she is trying to understand the idiom's use.
[Gwen Sullivan] Frost was approaching, so Gwen felt compelled to do the polite thing and greet her. However, for a teenage werewolf, this wasn't an awfully strenuous assignment. As she had done with Cordelia, she simply jerked her chin upward in the Americanized version of a non-verbal 'sup?'. She didn't squiggle or shift around a lot, just stood still, a training wheels sentry if you will, beside the bench that Cordelia sat on, one hip into the bench's back, arms crossed over her chest, dark brown hair in a ponytail and face relatively void of make-up, save for the last-second-out-the-door choice of bright purple mascara.
Her jaw clicked when she pressed her molars against her tongue and applied pressure a certain way, then she looked over to Cordelia again, paused, and grinned-- this time with all of her mouth, not just one corner.
"What little ass you have," and the tone this time made it apparent she was teasing. She looked down at the neon pink nail polish she wore, distractedly, while continuing. "Leadership's pretty easy to determine, actually." So said the Philodox. "Gusto, authority, charisma and know-how. No offense to your people, but it's a lot more than just a title.
"But thanks for putting in a good word for me."
[Frost] She slows her steps as she draws near, returning Cordelia's smile with one of her own. It's a warm, friendly smile that goes beyond her lips and lights the eyes. Since they are conversing she doesn't move intrusively close. Gwen gets a greeting when their conversation has a lull. "Hello Gwen, nice to see you again." Her posture is loose, comfortable, a woman at ease and self confident.
[Cordelia] "Leadership is more than a title," she says, "but it's more than authority and know-how and charisma. It is also service to the people. Making things happen for them and making things better for them. No es... eh... shit."
She lets her posture drop for a second, like she's missing words and looks frustrated as a result. She puts her arms back on the bench and she starts on with what she's saying again. She waves it off, but obviously wasn't very upset with her lack of words because she goes on.
"Anyway, I feel like es complicated and multifaceted. Long story short, I think es my tribe's duty to serve others."
She shrugs. The female smiles, and sits up. she offers Frost a hand.
"Hi, I'm Cordelia, I don't think we've met," dear god where is this girl from? English does not sound like it's her first language.
[Gwen Sullivan] "Mmm."
Gwen's eyes hardened into granite while Cordelia spoke, locked onto her like she was going to memorize the minute details of her cheekbone. Her expression wasn't angered, her Rage didn't flex, but to be under her eyes still felt uncomfortable, like perhaps you were about to be scrutinized or hit in the head with a brick or scolded or murdered or left behind alone to walk yourself home.
None of the above happens, though, and instead Gwen seems to decide to let the debate about leadership go, and instead looks to Frost when the (impossibly) taller woman speaks up, smiling and perfectly physically Fenrir in every sense of the description, it seemed. "Hey Frost." Because she didn't have a first name, and to use the title of 'detective' in public could be detrimental to an undercover case or something. "How's it hanging?"
[Frost] She steps close and takes Cordelia's hand, wondering if she's from Spain. Such an interesting accent. The tall woman has a firm grip but it's not crushing. "Nice to meet you Cordelia, I'm Frost." Gwen's amusing greeting regarding her absent penis gets a chuckle. "To the left."
[Cordelia] Cordelia, under most circumstances, can see things. That is, of course, because under most circumstances she's wearing glasses and as a result doesn't have her vision impaired. All she knows is that Gwen went Mmn and that Frost is as tall as she is.
"Your name es much better than mine, I'm jealous," she tells her.
[Gwen Sullivan] Frost got a quirk of a grin that only functioned on one side of her mouth, as though she were a very young stroke victim, in favor of the penis joke that came in return to her own.
Aside from that, though, Gwen went quiet and waited, letting the Kin converse and watching out for the bus.
[Frost] "If your real name was Anise you'd get a nickname too," she chuckles, then eyes Gwen. "No anus jokes. You ladies need a ride somewhere?"
[Cordelia] "Gwen's taking me home," says the blonde about the younger teenaged girl.
[Frost] "Ah, well that's good. It is a bit late to be out and about on your own." She gives Gwen an approving glance, glad to see the girl is on her toes.
[Gwen Sullivan] "You know..."
Gwen didn't take her eyes off the street, continued to stare and wait for the bus, even as she spoke, fingers tucked between her biceps and her ribcage to keep them still, warm, and preoccupied. The sun had slipped past the horizon and it was getting chilly outside. "One could say the same for you, Frost. You've probably got a gun on you, but I can't imagine that would do a whole hell of a lot of good in at least ten different situations that come to mind immediately."
Those hard green-gray eyes jumped over to the impossibly tall Get of Fenris kinfolk, stayed on that face for a second, then moved to the posting of bus schedules on the side of the bench. Where the hell was that bus driver?
[Frost] A hint of a smile curls her lips and she lowers her eyes, granting deference to the cub. "That is true, but I did bring my car, and I'm not very well known. And I'd like to think I could spot trouble and avoid it, but life has no guarantees."
[Gwen Sullivan] "You might not be well known, but you more than stand out in a crowd, I'm pretty sure you know that."
There's a pause, she seems to be thinking, recalling, and then she shrugs her shoulders and tugs down her 3/4 sleeves to mid-forearm, so this way they're no longer bunched up at her elbows. After this she goes back to tugging on the multitude of bracelets she's got decorating (blocking from damage) her wrists. "Irrelevant anyways, I'm pretty sure. From what I understand there's a monster in every dumpster and something worse in the shadows behind it, and no matter how well known or not you are, it'll find you and get you." She's heard a lot of horror stories, and if she was going to be escorting kin... well, why was Cordelia more important an assignment than Frost?
But she had a car. "So, you're heading home then?"
[Frost] "It's hard to stop living, in spite of the risks. I do appreciate your concern. If it will put you at ease we can all three of us take my car to drop off Cordelia. And if you'd like to see me home... "
[Ray Ostermann] Late, a very late night in the office, but hey if you want to make big bucks and crush the companies of your enemies under heel, you do what you have to. Having found time to at last get out of the office, Ray had gone to his favorite hotdog stand to indulge in some street meat before moving on home to his condo in Lakeview.
Raven hair and sparkling blue eyes adorn a handsome clean cut face. His smile is warm, friendly even and he looks all the world the professional as he stands straight and tall. The slate grey suit he wears fits him perfectly, tailored precisely to his six foot one height the mark of any fine broker. He has the lean build of a swimmer, sleek and firm and his hair is styled just so. He smells faintly of a fine cologne and even finer cigars. All together Ray Ostermann presents a model businessman, a man of refined tastes, and even finer fortunes. He screams wealth..and even more so...success.
Or at least he certainly would if he weren't walking around the park with a hotdog in hand and a soda in the other. It wasn't the most fashionable meal as he drew closer to the three women, but it was tasty.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen's eyebrows went up, not with skepticism but thought instead. The offer was a reasonable one, a kind one, but she wasn't going to go ahead and make that decision for the entire group. She might know that Frost is kin of Kora, that Kora trusted her, and that she (Gwen) trusted Kora in turn. So by her, Frost was alright. Cordelia, though? She just met both of them today, so she might not be keen on getting into a private vehicle with a pair of strangers on a whim.
So, Gwen glanced to Cordelia and waited for a second, then realized she probably couldn't read facial expressions too well without those ridiculously thick glasses on her face, so she vocalized what her face was saying as well. "What would you want to do, Cordelia?" Aw, she didn't call her bird-bones, how nice!
And up the sidewalk came another face worth noting. Not because she could taste the breeding, something she was just discovering and feeling out, not because she knew him, but because he was tall, dignified, and wearing an expensive suit. Sure, there were plenty of suit-wearing people in the downtown part of Chicago, but the vast majority of them looked beaten down and gray, dreary, sucked dry by the city. The difference between that and this new Kinfolk was what drew Gwen's eye while she waited on the Silver Fang kinfolk's answer.
[Frost] Perhaps she had been about to say more, but she trails off as a gentleman approaches, pale blue eyes playing over the man in the expensive suit who is eating on the go. Not a bad looking sort either. Not that she's looking she's just.... looking. Her attention shifts back to Gwen and she waits to see if Cordelia is ammenable, but she keeps the man in her peripheral vision.
[Cordelia] She didn't call her bird bones or twiggy or any other remark that points out the fact that she is, in fact, one skinny, skinny thing. She looks at them, or rather at the outline of the two. She looks them over, carefully, though it seems to be that she's only doing is looking near them for the sake of being polite. She can't see much of a damned thing.
"We can take your car," she says, "but I'm fine either way. It's whatever you think should happen, Gwen's making the safety calls."
[Ray Ostermann] Ray strode on towards the three woman, with the intent of moving around them, no need to disturb their little get together after all, he himself had other places to be, more important things to do perhaps.
But as he came closer and closer to the trio he seems to recognize one of the three, it was cordelia of course and Ray's casual confident smile went into overdrive, flaring up into an award winning smile as he changed course and stepped amongst the trio.
"Good evening Ladies, it is a pleasure." He says with a nod, his voice warm and rich as if formed out of all the rich tastes he had. He turned his gaze directly to Cordelia and spoke in spanish then. "It is good to see you once more Ms. Sarafin-Diego, you have been well?"
He then looks back to the others and extends a hand, his pop shifted to the other hand. "Ray Ostermann, and you two would be?"
[Gwen Sullivan] The man in the suit was just going to pass right by as though they didn't exist, she was quite sure of it. Perhaps he would eyeball Frost because of her (ahem) assets, perhaps he would stare at either of the tall blonde women because they were ridiculously tall and ridiculously blonde both. Gwen, of course, would be overlooked, but that didn't matter, because this guy was just gonna be on his way.
Until he stopped.
He knew Cordelia, it turned out, and he greeted her by a hyphenated last name, which had Gwen looking at Cordelia, then down at her left hand to try and find a wedding ring, she seemed young and gawky and not the type to be wed already. With none in sight, Gwen thought about why she'd have two last names up until the point of having the tall business man look at her and stick his hand out for a greeting.
Gwen was by and large an unimpressive specimen. She was average in many ways, from body shape to height to facial features. The only distinctive thing about her would be the air of certainty, the multiple facial piercings, the purple mascara, and the tremble of Rage in the air around her. She stared at his hand for a second, then met it with her own, tipped by neon pink fingernails.
"Sullivan."
Because first names didn't feel appropriate with suits.
She didn't ask aloud (yet), but her question wasn't so much his name or profession, but who he was to her. If he was Kin, if he was Garou, or if he was just some human that Cordelia happened to know. She didn't know if she had to watch her mouth around him or not.
[Cordelia] And there is no ring to speak of. There's not even a tanline. She smiles happily and stands up.
This is something that Silver Fangs do, and if there is any doubt that she is a member of her tribe, it's right there. She stands, holds her shoulders back, and exudes a sort of social grace and confidence that an underweight blonde geek has no right to have.
She offers a hand, and it's a general approximation of where it's supposed to be, "well Mister Ostermann I am keepking out of trouble, es the best I can hope for."
She's not wearing her glasses. She's either vain or-
"I broke my glasses."
That.
[Frost] Frost glances at Gwen as the man boldy, and perhaps if not for the silky voice, somewhat pushily entered their space. She picks up Cordelia's last name and notes he speaks spanish. Well dressed, well educated, over-confident. Frost almost wishes sh were still in her work clothes... almost. As it stands, she's casually dressed in levis, a Neon Black tee shirt and boots that look well equipped for curb stomping. Everyone needs a hobby. When his hand comes her way, the tall woman shakes it firmly. "Anise Carrington," she offers, since he was formal enough to use his full name.
[Ray Ostermann] He turned that award-winning dazzling smile to each woman in turn, over confident? maybe, but one way or another he had confidence to spare, even when facing the young woman so full of rage, he raised a brow to that and as if Gwen's rage were a matter of interest in one way or another.
"I apologize for intruding on your...get together." He says calmly, casually as he looked between the three of them. "But I do not like to walk by someone I know without first saying hello." He chuckles, and that rich noise bubbles up like a fine wine or whiskey.
He turns his gaze more completely to Cordelia once more and tilts his head ever so slightly. "A shame, still waiting on your new perscription then?" He asks innocently enough.
[Cordelia] "I broke them..." she stops for a second and looks back at Gwen, "thirty minutes ago?"
A beat.
"I fell out of a tree. You are a well-dressed blur right now."
[Gwen Sullivan] "Well...," Gwen starts, but falls quiet after re-thinking.
Rather than completing the thought, she just went back to leaning against the bench that Cordelia had been sitting on (but wasn't any longer, as she'd stood up to address the businessman, Mr. Ostermann), arms folding over her average-sized chest once more.
One of the downsides of being a teenager was the self-consciousness. She felt like a toadstool amongst tall trees, an oak, a willow, and a maple. She didn't scowl or pout over this, but instead tucked her fingers out of sight and clicked her teeth on her lip piercing, letting the conversations flow naturally rather than rushing people to shut up and get a move on.
No need to be moody, Miss Sullivan.
[Frost] Geez, the man was like candy on steroids and looked absolutely, edible. No. She did not just think that. She shifts her stance and moves to lean against the bench near Gwen, wondering if Cordelia wouldn't be needing a ride home afterall.
[Ray Ostermann] What had been a chuckle turns into a laugh, not at Cordelia's expense, but just at the moment itself and he nods at that. "Of course, of course how could I not see that. And I am pleased to hear that even in my blurry state, I still managed to impress." He shakes his head a few times and watches as the other two women turned and moved to the bench. Not one to exclude them he turned and looked to the pair.
"How do you two ladies know Ms. Diego? Are you perhaps...family?" He asks as he looks from one to the other as he considers them, intent and purpose in those words, as if he were trying to suss out some form of truth.
[Gwen Sullivan] "Met her today."
The teenaged girl stopped playing with the piercing that went through her lip, a sterling ball set right at the pout of her lower lip, and another just beneath, long enough to speak, shifting those stone-like eyes up to the tall handsome businessman's face, flicking briefly to Cordelia before returning to Ray as she finished her thought process/statement making. "I'm seeing her home, and Frost as well."
He asked if they were family, and she answered this with a half-quirked grin and a lift of one eyebrow. "In a sense. Why, would you need an escort home as well?"
[Frost] Ah, the man is fishing. Likely one of them then. She purses her lips as she tries to fit him into a tribe, but its like plugging a square hole with a round peg. She doesn't have enough information. Gwen picks up the ball, and she straightens her posture then reaches into her pocket to glance at the display on her phone. "Well, it looks as though I'll have to opt out of taxi service tonight. It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Ostermann, Ms. Diego." She pockets the phone and pulls a wallet out of her back pocket, fishing a business card out and handing it to Gwen. "In case you want to get hold of me." And she moves to excuse herself, striding away.
[Ray Ostermann] "A pleasure Ms. Carrington." Ray responds in kind as she strides away before turning to look at Gwen once more, the little punky woman who was offering a ride home. To that he smiled for her, bright and dazzling before shaking his head. "I have my own ride waiting not far from here. But I do appreciate the offer." He says as he takes a sip of his drink before seeming to consider something.
"You...remind me of another I knew once, she was a good friend, I am quite certain you are the same." He makes conversation as if this were completely natural, and that they were like good friends, but then....didnt you have to do that in the business world?
[Gwen Sullivan] Frost had checked her phone, and discovered from that glance (a text message or page or something, she guessed, had shown up) that she had someplace to be. Probably federal work, if she had to venture a guess. The tall Fenrir kinswoman left, but handed a card off before doing so. Gwen took it, lifted her eyebrows, then slipped it into the butt pocket of her jeans and nodded. "Thanks." And the Kin was on her way.
Ray, however, flashed that all-too-winning smile and turned down what he thought was an offer to drive him home. Gwen glanced briefly to Cordelia, who was concerned with fiddling with her glasses it seemed, then looked to Ray once more.
"No, I don't have a car. We were going to take the bus, but Frost--" her head jerked to the retreating federal agent's back, "--was gonna drive, but now we're back to the bus. I just meant if you needed some muscle to make sure no boogymen got you."
She was fresh faced, if he'd met Garou before he could tell. She wasn't eager or anxious to help, her palms didn't get sweaty at the thought of having to kill, but she still spoke bluntly, openly, and seemed a little too gung-ho about her duties. Or perhaps, compared to the complacency of the rest of the city, she was precisely what was needed?
[Cordelia] "Sullivan's good for her word," she says, nods like it's important, and she gives the Fenrir kin a wave goodbye, but it turns out she's accidentally waving at a Swedish Bikini Team lookalike. She blinks once, twice, then sighs.
She needs to get those damned things fixed.
"She said she would take me home and she's put up with my prodding and trouble-making ways. Good head on her shoulders," she told Ray. the young woman smiled, and it's all confidence, all charm, all sorts of jazz.
"What's got you out here?"
[Ray Ostermann] Ray listens intently to both woman, doing his best to pay attention to each of their words in detail, soaking up what is said and nodding appropriately when the time came."Aha...well then, perhaps I can be of assistance instead, and save you both the bus fair. As I said, my car is not far from here, If you like I could give you a ride back to your respective homes."
He suggests to Sullivan in a kindly and open manner, that charm still plastered all across his face. He then turned his gaze back to Cordelia and held up the hotdog as if to answer her question. "Only the finest street meat in the city. The vendor and I have a long standing relationship, it helps that I managed to get him the particular spot he resides on now."
[Gwen Sullivan] Again, Gwen shrugged her shoulders and deferred the decision to Cordelia. She went back to clicking her teeth on her lip ring, and glanced past the pair of Kinfolk, watching a car roll by slowly, a face in the tinted window staring in their direction. It was impossible to say why they stared, what they stared at, but Gwen watched them intently while they rolled by anyways.
It was an amusing thought, this Ostermann dropping her off at home. Her parents were fairly lax, but she could only imagine their response to some dude in a suit dropping her off out the side door of a Rolls Royce. The questions would pile up, and perhaps be the cascading weight that snaps the dam of restraint. They've been respecting her privacy, it was their parenting policy-- to let their children bloom on their own accord and be there for support whenever they wanted, and when they truly needed it.
But that may be worth investigating, and then they may start asking why she's been so skiddish, so snappy lately. Why she's been out late so much more often, where she was when she should be in school....
Kora was right, it might be a good idea to get the GED and get the hell out.
(But where could I possibly go?)
[Cordelia] "I had never had a hot dog until I came to the United States, and I am perfectly fine letting them remain a delicacy," she says.
This, of course, is from the girl who had street cart food in New York and got ridiculously excited to be on the subway. She had to laugh, and it suited her. There was a definite disconnect there, because Cordelia was, without a doubt, a dork. However, she was really confident, she was personable, she was all sorts of things except what she looked like.
"That sounds better than a bus," she says.
A beat, and a look at Gwen.
"Do you have school tomorrow?"
[Ray Ostermann] Ray was about to say something, about to comment that his car was a little tight for more then two, but it could fit them no problem, when his cell phone goes off. He frowned at that and pulled out a shiney new Iphone to look at it the sender, his shoulders slump ever so slightly at that and he turns to the two women before him.
"I...hate to be such a poor friend, but I'm afraid I am going to have to give you a free ride another day. It looks like I'm being called back to the office." He says with a slight sigh. "My sincere apologies."
[Cordelia] "Don't settle for less than three million," she tells him.
[Gwen Sullivan] Cordelia asked her if she had school tomorrow, and Gwen looked almost sheepish for half of a second before recovering and returning her face to a more neutral state. "Yeah, but don't worry. We've got a coffee maker."
Ray was offering a ride, Cordelia was acquiescing, and then Ray, like Frost, was getting a message on his cell phone that called him back to duty. He apologized and dismissed himself, Cordelia jested about how much money he was going to make tonight, and Gwen just smirked.
The expression was simultaneously too smug and too bitter to be appealing.
"Bus it is."
[Ray Ostermann] Ray laughs as he nods to Cordeia. "I wish it were quite that bracket, its more in the hundreds of thousands at this moment." He says with a smile as he stepped of, moving away into the night.
[Cordelia] There is a whole world of expressions that are, in their own rights, completely lost on Cordelia because she can't see them. she can't see how Gwen is half smirking, she can't tell that Ray is apologetic and has the same charming smile as ever. She laughs, and waves. The young woman sits down to wait for the bus, which happens to sound like it's pulling up down the way.
[Gwen Sullivan] Cordelia settles back down, Ray started walking away, and Gwen huffed quietly, muttering as the man in the suit that could easily cost as much as one of her dad's bikes went back into the world of red tape and finances. "Oh, gee, is that all?"
A glance up the other direction of the street indicated that the bus was turning at the light and coming to get them. Gwen licked at her pierced lips and spoke more clearly, now addressing the half-blind giraffe she was accompanying home.
"Bus is comin',"
followed by:
"Thanks for vouching for me like that. Not sure who that was, but thanks."
[Cordelia] "Tha's Ray, he's a business associate of mine. He should be helping me acquire some properties on the south side," which begs the question- why the fuck is this blind giraffe climbing trees and running around unescorted. Not only is she going to get eaten by Black Spiral Dancers, but she's going to get jumped and more-than-likely mugged by some random dude.
"And I said I would," she says. Like her word is a contract.
[Gwen Sullivan] "Right. But I thought you'd meant to... like... an elder or something."
Truth be told, Gwen had no idea what an 'elder' would look like. She thought perhaps they sat upon a throne, or wore a headdress, or something like that. She had no idea that Cordelia's 'elder', so to speak, was a haughty twenty-something woman with blonde hair (that seemed to be a trend among these people, they were all blonde), high cheekbones, and more than just a dollop of psychosis. She was pretty sure it wasn't Ray, though.
Her thumbnails clicked together, and the bus brakes hissed as it came to a stop in front of them, the doors creaked to let the girls aboard, and Gwen straightened up to wait for Cordelia to go first.
The Kin shouldn't be out and about, she was too gangly and blind and awkward to defend herself, and she probably shouldn't have been up in a tree either... But none of this felt like it was really Gwen's business. She would help where she could, Linus told her to take Cordelia home so she would, but that didn't mean she was going to attempt to dictate this woman's lifestyle. She'd just do her best to help her out when she could.
Like now, she'd step up behind Cordelia so she could brace or catch her if she tripped.
[Cordelia] "Which will also happen," she tells her, "the more people that know your name, and know you're good for your word, the better. Helps get the word out, because other people talk to their elders. Do it right, and suddenly you're getting a reputation."
She puts her hand on the rail and heads up the steps. She takes them one at a time, and knows about how far she needs to step. She's done this before, or at the very least, has practiced this motion time and time again. Cordelia knows what she's doing. Or, at the very least, is preparing for the worst.
"And not the kind that girls get in catholic school about being easy, either, like an actual reputation."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen won't invade personal space to help Cordelia up the stairs-- she was blind, not wounded. So she didn't put a hand at her back or waist to guide her, instead she tugged some bills out of her pants pocket and stuffed them into the pay box after counting them out for the bus driver, and followed Cordelia to join her wherever she chose to sit.
The comment about reputations had Gwen chuckling, just a little bit.
"And reputation is key, apparently. Which makes sense... But anyway, thanks. Just sayin', you just met me, and all I'm doing is tagging along as an insurance policy. I don't actually think anything's going to happen and I don't think you're incapable of getting home? But at the same time I'd hate to find out later that something did happen and I could've been there to stop it."
There's a beat, a moment of contemplation, and a bit of a scowl that appeared more at her nose than her mouth. "Though I'm not too sure I'd actually be able to stop much. Maybe just slow it down. Still a greenhorn."
[Cordelia] "We both know that you're capable of getting me home, and we both know that I'm capable of getting on a bus and going home. Reputation brings an opportunity to prove yourself, which is what really counts."
A beat.
"You're just untrained, it's not that you're not capable. Besides, don't worry about it, this will be a walk in the park, nothing bad will happen, and you're probably under-estimating your own abilities right now. And if you really do suck? Everyone sucks once. You're young, you're allowed to be inexperienced."
[Gwen Sullivan] "Heh."
Once Cordelia picks a seat and settles, Gwen sits next to her, framing the tall Kinfolk against the window, guarding the aisle (just in case). She sits with her knees apart, leaned forward, shoulders rolled forward as well. Her hands clasp together, neon-tipped fingers interlacing to hang between her knees, elbows braced on her thighs. She sits like a man waiting to hear about how his wife's surgery went. It said something about the weight on the girl already, and helped to classify her as Garou. It was a distinctive thing amongst them, not many were carefree.
The bus lurched into motion, and Gwen spoke softly to continue conversation. "I don't know about my ability or experience. I've... fought. But I've also had my ass whipped, and it felt like it was easy for him." Her hands shook some in her pause, she nipped at her lip ring, then continued with a bit more resolution in her voice. "I can learn. I'm willing. I just need someone to teach me."
[Cordelia] "You're going to fight a lot," she says, "when I first met my boyfriend? He wasn't too scarred. Now?"
She takes a second and tries not to sound as teenaged girl as she does. She pushes through.
"Anyway, he's a full moon, so unless that's you?.. I don't know. There are people around who will teach you, who.. well, who suits your style?" she has to ask. She doesn't quite look at Gwen, but she's listening well enough. Her attention is outside the blurs passing.
[Gwen Sullivan] "Yeah..."
Gwen didn't have any scars yet, but it did take her a little while to heal up the gash in her side. She was surprised that no marks had been left, and when observing this, standing before the mirror in her bedroom and running her fingers over the smooth flesh between hip and ribcage, she found herself wondering what it would take to leave a mark. Even when Fire Claws had torn her up to the point of her limbs going cold and her breath going weak, no marks had been left, and that had healed up rather quickly in and of itself.
She'd decided that she didn't quite want to learn that one first hand, not just yet anyways.
"No, I'm a half-moon." It shouldn't be too startling of a revelation, it was engraved into her as most auspices were into those born into them. She was tempered and thoughtful, listened and learned, and already had the kindling for the sort of strength that was steady rather than volatile. She was suited to her role, as Gaia and Luna had collaborated for her to be. "But so far lessons seem to.. conflict. I think the idea is that I'm supposed to learn for myself rather than be told."
There's a pause, then a puff of breath. She straightened up and pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and started typing out a text message. As she did this, she mumbled. "I need to figure that one out tonight, though, I think."
No comments:
Post a Comment