zealrules!
1. If you guys want to follow a post order, go for it. I only care about everyone posting once for every post I make.
2. The chances of combat occurring are so low I haven't tabulated a "character death" probability but one never knows. Try not to shoot the NPCs and you should make it out with all your health levels.
3. If you have Flaws, hand 'em over.
4. I'm going to make assumptions based on stalking y'all's transcript blogs for setting this up but if you want to supply me with the name(s) of up to 3 Garou (living or recently-deceased) who your character considers "important" I will totally use them against you later.
5. Hold onto your butts, opening post incoming.
Evans[nightmares, yo]
Dice: 7 d10 TN7 (2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )
zealThey all got a letter yesterday.
A few of them are not easy to find and their properties afford them enough of a lookout that they could have seen a visitor coming. Others live in secured buildings. Locks between them and the outside world. It doesn't matter. The letters bear no postage and no return address and they do not recognize the handwriting on the outside.
Thin block letters score their names into the centers of the envelopes' faces. The paper inside the envelopes is yellow, legal, without scent. The handwriting on the letter itself is careful with an edge of anger to it. The author pressed hard but did not smear the ink.
Each letter says the same thing, in the first paragraph:
You and I have never met. I know you have no reason to read this, let alone trust me, yet I write to you in the hopes that you are decent and will meet with me anyway.
The rest of the letter is different for each person.
EvansSam finds the letter in her mailbox, along with ads and junk mail and bills and such. When she finishes sorting through the stack she picks up the envelope, frowning a little. The Glass Walker isn't entirely married to the idea of electronics, but paper correspondence? In this day and age? When she opens it her frown deepens.
Well. That doesn't really clear up much. Sam Evans has a lot of friends that are a lot of things. So, is this letter calling out hackers? Members of the queer community? Computer engineers? If there is one thing someone might be worried their sister is, it's a computer engineer.
Garou, maybe?
Whatever it is, despite the angry cast of the handwriting, someone is asking for help. If there is one lesson Samantha Evans should have maybe learned in her time in Denver it's to stop answering calls for help. She's seen so much, nearly died a time or two. She also got a kid, though, so.
She fires off a text to Keisha letting her know that something's up, leaves Jake in the care of the nanny (a Bone Gnawer kinsman by the name of Anthony, by the way, a kind man with a Garou cousin not far away just in case of...well, just in case), and heads out to the Wells Fargo Center.
She pulls her aqua blue CX-5 into the lot, but doesn't get out yet. Instead, she hangs back in the driver's seat, checking her bag to make sure she has all of the essentials. Notebook, wallet, taser, mace, 9mm hand gun, check check check check check.
Lola HawkesLola had received a letter yesterday, pinned under the foot of the small wooden table between two rocking chairs on her front porch. She was immediately suspicious, as such is her nature, but after she'd opened the letter and started reading that feeling was justified. By the time she reached the end of the letter, the suspicion was replaced with defensive anger that boiled in her ribs and flushed her face. It was a watered down, impotent rage compared to what her Cousins carried, but it had her crumpling the letter up in her fist and stomping inside of her house none the less.
The next day she arrived at the Wells Fargo Center as the letter had instructed, approximately ten minutes within the seven o' clock hour. She had parked her old and half-rusted metal deathtrap of a white truck in the parking lot, the vehicle rumbling and creaking in protest on its suspension as it moved from street to lot. She found herself a spot that she could fit the dinosaur of a vehicle into, climbed out, and slammed the door shut behind her.
It's seven on the nose when Lola makes her way around to the front of the very tall building. She only looks out of place because she seems to be searching for something-- wandering, anxious, hunting, but unsure of what for exactly. She wore her long black hair down her back and over her shoulders with a white knit cap to keep her head and the tops of her ears warm. Along with that she wore a thick wool-knit cream colored sweater with cuffed sleeves that hugged her wrists, and a thick red down vest overtop of that. Dark jeans and brown riding boots covered her bottom half, and her hands were jammed into the pockets of her vest.
Along with clothes she wore a heavy scowl, and when her breath huffed in white clouds into the air they were almost reminiscent of a bull snorting steam at a red sheet.
She was hunting for whoever this Matador would be.
Alexis Theron LambrosAlexis Theron Lambros is, as those people who have met him can attest to, a very calm individual. Many people learn martial arts for many reasons; self-defense, athletic outlet, just so they can beat people up and be a badass. Alexis' reasons were firmly for the first two, and he studied the philosophy along with it. He practices elements of that philosophy, and it gives him a bit of a Zen outlook to complement the teachings of the Nation. As such, there isn't much (well, Phoebe knows one thing, but besides that) which can rattle him.
Mention of certain individuals in conjunction with a potential blackmail threat prompts him to leave all that Zen calmness at the door of his apartment. The letter and its envelope are left crumpled on the floor and he's generally been in a bad mood for the whole of the day afterward. He keeps to himself and calls off his classes for the day, and stays at home until the time is right.
The time is now right.
He shows up at the location, pulling his 1984 Buick LeSabre into the parking lot of the building. He's dressed simply enough, in a grey turtleneck and jeans with a windbreaker over the whole thing. He hasn't come armed, because...well, he doesn't believe in guns. He knows how to use one, but he hates them as a rule, and the weapons he knows how to use don't conceal well. So when he slips out of the car, still frowning, he casts his eyes about the place. Alexis generally has good situational awareness, and he's putting that to use now as he scans the lot, starts to move toward the building front.
Éva IllésházyBy seven full dark has fallen and the city is wrapped in that strange balance of shadow and brilliant, artificial light that seems strange and bright and stirring as the days narrow toward the winter solstice.
Listen, there is a nondescript Lexus parked some indeterminate distance from the Wells Fargo Center. It is not close. The woman who drives is is attractive but not remarkably so. She is careful to check the mirrors and the terms and conditions of the public meters, and careful of her periphery, and careful of so-many-things, but also, not entirely full-of-care.
After all, she is here now, has been here for some time. At 5:30 p.m. she slips into the bar at Randolph's and orders a Scotch that she nurses. Something approximating a meal follows, but anyone closely observing her would note that she does not consume much of either the beverage or the meal, before paying her bill and leaving a generous tip. Oh, but anyone observing her closely is so-observed in turn. This is how things go.
--
Éva arrives before 7. Call it 6:50. She is dressed in business casual attire, carries a leather attaché case.
She is armed in so very many ways.
More than you dare count.
--
When Lola appears around the edge of a tall building, in the shadows of the evening, at seven p.m. on the nose, the Shadow Lord notices. Smirks, mildly and wholly to herself, and turns in an arc for another singular survey of the space before walking up to the Uktena.
The pair are of a height, though Éva is wearing moderately-sensible three-inch heels, which lift her up to 5'10" or so, so perhaps she has to drop her mouth to murmur into Lola's ear.
"Let me guess. You received a letter."
Melantha ArgyrisMelantha gets her letter at work, and that's pretty creepy. But that's how it has to come, because the tinyhouse doesn't exactly have an address other than one they have made up. She gets it, and she reads it on her dinner break, frowning, her spine and shoulderblades knotted up with growing discomfort. The first line and the third line are strange -- so hopeless, so plaintive, so needful -- but the lines in between them seem all but threatening to Melantha. Warning. She doesn't like it, and she wants to find this writer and give them a piece of her mind.
She borrows the truck, one more notch in the 'get a second car' vote that's ongoing, and drives down from Evergreen, glad that the promised snows have yet to show up down in the city.
--
The truck is big, and yellow, and... pretty hard to miss. It's been seen at Forgotten Questions for moots and meetings. It's been seen at Cold Crescent for other stuff. Melantha gets out wearing jeans and comfy sneakers. Her coat is knee-length and bulky, very warm, with a thick hood. She got her own hoodie to go under it, a thermal one with sleeves that hook over her thumbs. The hood is down, and her hair -- and there is so much of it -- up in a thick ponytail.
She just gets out of the truck, and sees a stranger, and frowns at him. "Hey!" she says, outright, calling over to Alexis. "Did you send me that creepy letter?"
zealMost of the people who work in the Wells Fargo Center and the shorter buildings surrounding it have gone home for the evening. The lots are emptied of everything but empty 20-ounce plastic bottles and cigarette butts and errant bits of paper fallen out of pockets and purses. Foot traffic has bled out and the only people still moving between vehicles and doorways are those with great distances to travel.
For a time the only two bodies out in front of the building are a hard-faced young woman and a sharp-dressed sharp-eyed lawyer. Their breath steams up from their mouths and the wind does not tug at the hems of their garments but the cold seeks to leech the life from them anyway.
More vehicles arrive. More faces they recognize from warmoots or the recent punishment rite. Irony in the meeting but a poetic sort. Melantha and Alexis are the only ones in the parking lot.
If anyone feels as if someone is watching them it is not paranoia bred of the letter's nature. It is the same letter. Sent via email it would have been blindly carbon copied. Maybe the wording would have been more deliberate in its vagueness.
Whoever wrote the letter had to write it five times. Travel to the places they spend the most time. Jam them into door frames or underneath furniture before sneaking off again.
Now she tucks her hair back behind her ears and glances both ways before she crosses the street to walk towards them. At a glance she is a young woman of average height, her build concealed beneath a peacoat, long dark hair beneath a wool cap. They have about thirty seconds before she's at the front of the building with them.
She appears to be alone. They cannot read the nuances of her expression yet. She walks with long strides and keeps her hands in her pockets.
Melantha Argyris[alertness! do I notice the lady or am I too busy gearing up to yell at Alexis?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9) ( success x 4 )
Melantha ArgyrisUnknowingly, this is how the two Black Fury kin meet each other: the female one, the shorter one, the one who looks and smells to wolves like a scion of their tribe and not a mere... y'know: kinfolk waitress, storming up to him across a parking lot after sliding out of the driver's seat of a giant yellow truck with black racing stripes, which doesn't look like something anyone should drive ever, it's so ridiculous. Making demands. Wanting to know if he's a creep.
He's not, but she doesn't know that yet.
She catches sight of someone else, too. A woman she's seen at warmoots and 'around'. Another one with a little ear-spike that she has also seen at warmoots and 'around'. And the lawyer, who she... also realizes she recognizes. But then someone crossing the street, as unknown as Alexis is. Melantha drops back a step or two, narrowing her eyes at him.
Alexis Theron LambrosAlexis glances over at Melantha when she shouts his way, brow furrowing. Truth be told, he might be asking the same of her if she hadn't said it first. Perhaps it's cosmic irony that the two Fury kin haven't met yet, or pehaps its fate that they should first meet now, outside of the vicinity of those Garou who mean so much to each of them. Maybe it's just a matter of circumstance. Whatever the reason, Melantha eliminates the need for Alexis to be suspicious, and he shakes his head.
"Not unless I sent one to myself, first." He's already at the edge of the parking lot, and he nods with his head to the other Fury as if to say Coming? And then he's turning round to the front, where he sees Lola and Eva. Two more that he hasn't specifically met, though he saw them both at the judgment the other night. He frowns again and moves to walk toward them.
And as that other person, the new presence who he knows he hasn't met, walks across the street, he has another unknown element. Another blackmail-ee? Or their own person Mister (Ms.) Boddy? And that's when he stops where he is, between the two kin at the front of the door and the parking lot where Melantha and (unrevealed yet) Sam are, watching the woman making her way toward them with hands in pockets.
He's watching those hands closely, switching his attention between the pockets and her shoulders. When someone makes a sudden move, their shoulders are usually where you see it first.
Éva IllésházyDuring those first ten minutes, Éva studies the hard-faced young woman while frowning, rather mildly, down at the screen of her tablet. Texting something; responding to e-mails. Involving herself in the digital world to provide herself with a reason for loitering here, at this hour, in this weather, alone in the largely deserted square.
It would be so much easier if she were simply to take up cigarettes, but
instead she looks like a thoughtless professional captured mid-walk by some suddenly pressing something at near-seven p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon.
The girl must know who she is, though. To deliver such correspondences.
Must know who they all are.
--
A sideglance at Lola's expression, long enough to take in what is doubtless some note of resonance over the letter she received. Some confirmation, affirmation: something like a yes.
And Éva is careful, turning her dark head (hair pulled back into a sleek chignon, her suit jacket dark beneath a short dark peacoat. Her 9 mm always within reach) noting the others on the periphery, shadoes against the parking lot.
Notes them, all of them. One by one by one.
And makes a decision, walking toward the girl rather than away, reaching into her left pocket with her left hand for a folded piece of paper.
It is blank but otherwise the color and texture of the letter she received, which was examined and then burned to ash.
"Excuse me," to the hard-faced young woman. " - are you the author of this letter?" The paper flashes white against the darkness, then disappears into back into her left pocket.
EvansSam sits in her car, watching as people arrive, a stranger storming toward her friend, and another stranger headed for the building. It's a few minutes after seven now, so this has to be it. These people probably received letters, as well, and chances are decent that this other newcomer headed toward Lola and Eva is the one who sent it. Or the young woman storming toward Alexis is.
Sam opens the driver's side door and slips down onto the pavement. Quietly, she shuts the door behind her and heads with a quiet, swift efficiency toward Alexis. If the other stranger turns out to be a threat she's pretty sure Eva at least will have that area covered.
As she gets closer she realizes that's no stranger at all, but a young woman she's seen before, at the last warmoot probably, or somewhere in the crowd for the punishment. And then Alexis is giving Melantha that Come along, Pond head nod Sam recognizes. She does not ask them to wait up. Sam may be the shortest of the lot by nearly half a foot, but she doesn't need people to make allowances for her just because of her stature.
So it is that she arrives at the cluster of Kinfolk a little late but just ahead of the stranger.
By way of greeting, she looks around and simply asks, "Letter?" Her long brown hair is down beneath a blue knit cap and her hands are tucked into the pockets of a fitted olive green jacket. Her jeans are snug as well, her boots comfortable, good for kicking or for running, whichever comes first.
Lola HawkesThere's a tell-tale 'clack clack' of heels on pavement that catches Lola's attention, and she turns sharply to face the sound, eyes sharp and wide and a dead giveaway to the woman's intent for half a second. Whoever it was that summoned her here was in for it, simply put. But recognition dawns upon the Uktena Kinswoman soon enough, as she's seen this older dark-haired white woman at several Moots. She's a Shadow Lord Kinfolk, and she could be trusted, so Lola's body language relaxes (only a little), and she turns to face Éva more directly.
The question is met with a huff of air through her nostrils, but not blown into the face of the inquirer. "Sure did."
She didn't ask how the older woman was lured out here, or what her letter had said. She knew they wouldn't be identical, hers was very specific to her after all. However, it became clear after a glance past Éva's shoulder to spy one unfamiliar face and one that she recognized as a Kinfolk, soon joined by one that she knew to be Reese's sister, that this was a summoning of Kinfolk. They were all called out here, probably for the same reason.
Lola growled under her breath to the thirty-something (forty-something?): "This reeks of a trap."
Then, bit by bit, their attention all turns to a woman who is crossing the street to join them in front of this massively tall skyscraper. Éva turns and approaches first, asking the question that they all wanted to know. Lola kept her hands in the pockets of her vest, flicked her eyes to the other three that were congregating toward the area as well, then followed after Éva on flat-soled boots. She didn't crowd the older woman, but she would fall to stand at her side, looking imposing and brooding but saying nothing-- just glaring at the woman and waiting for an answer with what is clearly baited breath.
Melantha Argyris[Correction to previous post: cut out everything after 'know that yet'.]
zealThe woman wears running shoes with the laces tucked down. They will not flap or come untied if she decides to bolt. Her jeans are boot-cut and fit snug to her legs. She walks as if she is used to taking her time to get from one place to the next.
And as she draws closer her pace does not slow but the light in her eyes mutes itself and she looks from one face to the next to read what it is she's walking into. This is a meeting of her own making but that letter did not tell them anything other than that if they did not meet her here she would come for them.
It may well be an idle threat. The woman's posture is impeccable and she carries herself as if the repercussions for slouching are heavier than whatever she wears beneath her coat. The coat conceals her weapon but not the presence of the holster she wears.
Her cheekbones are covered in freckles. Her hair and her eyes look the same color in the dark. Yellow street lamps are all they have to push the night back away from them. When the attorney speaks the woman looks to her. She worries her lower lip before she answers.
"Yes," she says, and nothing else.
Evans[percept (insightful) + empathy (emotional states)]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 ) Re-rolls: 1
Alexis Theron Lambros[[Per+Emp]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 4, 8) ( success x 1 )
Lola HawkesThe instant the word 'Yes' leaves the woman's mouth, Lola is a flurry of motion. Her feet move her forward a step and a half, and her hands fly out of her pockets so that they can shoot forward toward the female. Anyone with an eye trained for combat can tell that she's not trying to strike or punch-- she isn't throwing from the hip or shoulder, so that doesn't apply. Anyone without that trained eye, though, will probably be convinced that Lola's going to initiate a brawl because her lips peel back from her teeth and she's already making a gutteral noise in her chest and throat, the sound mingling with and eclipsing the 's' on the woman's answer.
She doesn't hit, but she does seize the woman by her coat-- collar preferably, but lapels or simply loose fabric at the front will be accepted. Lola's difficult to escape like this-- she's fast, she's strong, and when she gets a grip on the coat her grasp is like steel wire.
The poor woman gets two solid shakes by her jacket before Lola snarls in her face.
"Don't you ever fucking lay threats down on me and mine again. 'Don't make me come to you'? Bitch, you wouldn't make it halfway."
Éva Illésházy"An absurd sort of trap," Éva remarks back to Lola, rather agreeably and remarkably quietly before she approaches the strange woman. All the work put into those letters and their delivery, merely to draw them here? If Éva intended to hunt someone, she would not alert them to the game ahead of time.
Why do anything other than shoot to kill?
"More than this one, I think." An arched and singular brow and a cool dark stare that rises from the strange around the space, then falls back to her. "Which seems to have been quite the task to undertake. Did you do it of your own volition - "
Then Lola is stepping forward, lips peeling back from her teeth, all-in-motion, reaching for the girl's lapel. Éva grits her teeth, a supple spasm of motion in her temple, and makes a gesture intended to stay or still or forestall Lola before the Uktena actually grabs the girl, in hopes of giving Lola pause before she does make that grab. She will not, however, physically put herself between the two.
Lola HawkesÉva will make an effort to stop Lola, gesturing with a hand or expression or otherwise that this is a poor choice.
Lola likes Éva. Hell, she may even respect her. But Lola's been thinking about doing this since she decided simply shooting whoever was unfortunate enough to fess up would be too extreme. She would not cease her action for the older (wiser) Kinfolk's silent suggestion.
Alexis Theron LambrosThe woman approaches and the kinfolk start to converge on her. And Alexis is willing to let them before Lola steps forward and starts snarling threats. Just like that, the Fury kin is moving foward. He's not rushing with aggressive intent, but he's still moving quickly as he tries to get between the two women.
"Whoa, easy," he says to Lola as he puts a hand on Lola's shoulder. He can take a punch if she needs to unleash one at a target; while Alexis is in fact combat trained and knows she's not going to hit the woman, she may need somewhere to throw that anger so they can handle this. Alexis is none too pleased with this woman either; he doesn't get angry often but he's pissed right now. Still, threatening a blackmailer is usually not wise. They're often desperate or have contingency plans. And he noticed that holster, too.
"Let's step back a moment, and talk." He shoots a glare to the mystery woman, one that strongly suggests that the key word in there is talk.
zeal[ST note: ret-conning Mel out of the scene because reasons. I have to adjust a few things but another post is coming.]
zeal[oh right i didn't do this yet
manip + subt]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )
Éva IllésházyThis deep and frustrated noise, back-of-the-throat. Whatever else the woman might have said is forestalled by Alexis' intervention. Éva takes a distinct step backwards as he puts himself between the two women.
This lingering irony in the shape of her mouth. Much of what she intended to say is swallowed, changed, redirected with a glance at the stranger. Over the heads of the other two kin.
"Is that the reaction you wanted? If so, I think you earned it. What exactly is it that you want out of this."
Éva IllésházyFor ST reference: Perception + Subterfuge. Spec: hidden motives. Looking for: in any answers she gives, whether she is being deceptive.
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 4 ) Re-rolls: 1
EvansSam hangs back a bit, a little to the side of Alexis until Alexis is moving to touch the Uktena kinswoman. For a moment, people are mostly focused on the potential for violence, for either a punch or a good shaking. Most of them, that is, except for Sam.
Sam who is looking at the woman, her own expression calm and just shy of pleasant for all that she received a similar threatening letter. Whatever was written in hers, though, it didn't drive her to a fury of protectiveness for the ones she cares about. Her eyes, too dark to display color in the dim evening light and lined with heavy black liner, shift to Lola before returning to the woman.
"That will probably make you feel better, but-" but then Eva speaks up and Sam cedes the floor to the older, more experienced kinswoman.
zealIf the woman does not anticipate the rural woman leaping forward to grab and shake her then she does not react to it. But: she knew enough else about her to lance fear and anger up out of her in less than one written page. She does not react because she is not surprised.
The eldest of the four allies attempts to stop her and the only man present attempts to calm her. With a fist wrapped around her collar the woman stands stock still and watches Lola's face without staring at her. Watches too Éva. Samantha doesn't get very far with her sentence but she can read familiarity in the way the woman carries herself and speaks.
Anything she says Éva will be able to tell if she is lying. As of right now all she has to go on is what was in the letter. She thinks her sister is one of them.
"I don't know which it was," she says and now that she speaks more the Kinfolk can make out an Eastern European crackle to her accent. "But one of your friends bit my sister."
Alexis Theron LambrosHe's got his hand on Lola's shoulder, and he's half-expecting an attack from her. He wouldn't be surprised. Maybe he's expecting the woman to shoot them in panic from being semi-assaulted, or a sniper that the woman has as a backup taking a shot from a hidden location.
He was expecting a lot of things. He wasn't expecting to hear
THAT.
He really doesn't mean to be rude. It's not laughing at her, really. But...come on. And so he looks at the woman and a full moment of laughter gets out before he has a chance to try and swallow it back.
"Oh, for..." He shakes his head, still trying to hold back a chortle. It's just so...well, COME ON. "No one bit your sister. I can promise you that."
EvansSam's expression quirks, eyes narrowing a little as her mouth turns upward in a slight, disbelieving smile, the sort of smile that graces one's face when they're not sure if a joke has just been made. At least she doesn't laugh, c'mon, Alexis, rude much? She didn't get very far with her sentence, which was going to lead into a question, but the answer to that question comes anyway.
"And you thought, what? You'd tattle to us and ask us to keep our friends in line?"
Of course she would, she thinks, because if she made it through the Delirium knowing her sister was bitten by Garou she's probably afraid to face their shifting cousing head on.
Then again, she doesn't seem terribly afraid at the moment. Maybe she doesn't know what sort of people she's drawn out.
Lola HawkesAlexis was a man that Lola had never met before, but here he was walking up and clapping a hand on her shoulder and trying to (gently, in his defense) tell her to step back and step off. Lola at this point seems to be all but ignoring the other Kinfolk there, but at least she isn't redirecting her anger where it isn't deserved. Alexis isn't hit for touching her. Hell, his hand isn't even shrugged off of her shoulder. But she does keep a firm hold on the woman's coat, and seems even more bothered by the fact that she didn't get anything close to a reaction out of her.
When the woman speaks, expressing worry that one of their lot bit her sister and now she's changing, Lola scoffs noisily and shoves the woman backward-- hard enough that she would be forced to stumble at least one step back to maintain her balance. Lola's feet, though? They don't move from where she's planted them on the concrete. This is her claiming ground and standing it, and she won't be moved.
But hey, at least she's not shaking anyone anymore.
"Don't be fucking retarded. If you know enough about us to know where to find us, how to get us here, and if you know....--" Well, whatever it was that this stranger knew about Lola was clearly something that she didn't want to talk about and spit into the public air, so she cut herself off and sneered instead. "You know full well that's not how that works. Cut to the goddamn chase, we ain't idiots."
Éva Illésházy"I can see why you're concerned, then." Éva returns without so much as cracking a smile. There is a degree of concern and a degree of professional composure and no real warmth in her eyes, but the competence is can be soothing.
Then Alexis: laughing has Éva shooting him a brief and quelling look. It is a glancing blow, before she returns her attention to the stranger, but seriously and quite precisely.
The flare of her nostrils.
Neither Sam nor Lola receive the same look, primarily because there are only so many directions one can glance at once. The first rule of dealing with the unknowing or insane or the egomaniacal and so many in between is to cede them the rules of the universe. Grant them their world and let them describe it for you.
Also: Éva knows that the woman is not lying. She believes what she says.
"Excuse them. I for one take this very seriously. Where is your sister? Is she still injured? Or is she experiencing...
"Other symptoms."
Éva IllésházyManipulation + Subterfuge: biting is absolutely how werewolves are made, yes you are right I totally believe you crazy lady.
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 3, 6, 6, 6, 7, 10, 10) ( success x 6 ) Re-rolls: 2
zeal[perc + subterfuge: i call bullshit.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
zealAlexis laughs and she does not react.
Samantha asks if she is tattling, thinking she is going to ask them to keep their friends in line, and she looks as if she is going to bust out into a cousin of the laughter that gripped Alexis. Whereas his laughter was born of relief thinking the woman before them to carry ignorance with her hers has a different sire.
Her hands haven't left her pockets. They are still there even as Lola shoves her back from her. The woman takes one step back to maintain her balance and another to regain her stolid footing. She shakes her head to free her shoulders from the curls fallen down over them and she smirks.
"'Other symptoms.'"
The woman chews her lower lip again and looks away a moment. The glance away is not a tell. Wherever she parked is not within her line of sight. Soon her eyes come back to them.
"Your friends and the things they fight... they're all the same to me. If I have to, I will put her down myself. But I thought we could come to an arrangement, seeing as you know things I do not know."
Alexis Theron LambrosThe laugh, to his credit, does go away. It was already on its way to gone before Eva threw him that look. It was more a reaction of relief and just an emotional release than anything else, not that it would be interpreted as such. Truth be told, he already feels a little bad for it, but that's just the way it is.
And it's CERTAINLY gone when she says she might "put her down," her being the sister in question. That draws all the humor off his face, and he looks at her more closely now. Frowns.
"Your sister. Blood relative, or adopted?" He glances at the other kin and then back to her. "What sort of arrangement are you talking about?"
Éva Illésházy"What symptoms?" A brief, lifting query. "I ask because it is possible that the infection has not yet spread. She could be cured, depending how far this has gone.
"Someone would have to examine her closely, and determine whether the infection can be contained or eradicated. You understand the delicacy of the situation. Give us her name and her address, we will look into it and have someone contact you to let you know if recovery is possible.
"Or if a more final solution is necessary."
EvansThe woman wants to make a deal, Alexis (and Sam) want to know what sort of deal. Preferably one that doesn't have some close or unrelated family member getting killed. And preferably that doesn't have this woman asking for access to other supernatural creatures. She is a benign threat, but a threat none the less.
Sam Evans, though? Sam is not a threat to anyone, not unless she needs to be. Her smile of disbelief melts into something pleasant and friendly. It's perhaps a strange counter to Lola's aggression and Eva's sharp tone. But hey, sometimes you catch more flies with honey.
"I'm interested in names, too," she says. "Like yours for one. How do we know we can trust you to stick to any kind of arrangement you propose?"
[I am totes your friend: charisma (charming) + empathy]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 6 ) Re-rolls: 1
Lola HawkesAlexis asks about this relative, if they are blood related or adopted to be made sister to the woman who didn't react to Lola's up-front aggression or Alexis's laughter.
Éva said that the infection could be spreading and tried to pull information from this woman as to the whereabouts of this sister.
Lola still didn't even believe that this sister existed.
The Uktena scoffed again, and swung her arms in front of her, then back to her sides, then in front again a couple of times. Each time that her hands met in front of her, it waso to roughly tap the side of a tight right fist in the curved palm of the other. This made a jarring clapping sound each time it happened. Thankfully it only went on for about four turns.
"Whoa, now. Before any goddamn thing else--" And she cuts a sharp look back to the other three Kinfolk, eyes burning hard on all three faces for a half a second at a time. Her eyes are quick to return to the stranger, though. "Who the fuck are you? To know as much about me and probably these others here, to have looked that deep into our lives, I don't trust a fucking thing that's come out of your mouth yet tonight.
"Shit. I doubt this sister even exists."
zealThey have more questions than she has given them answers and they do not have a name for her though she not only has their names but their addresses and the names of their loved ones. In some instances this woman has information that not even the rest of the Nation has. Knows those who have died recently and those who are not even born yet.
If she had reached out to the werewolves themselves they would have cut her down right here or dragged her in for questioning.
Alexis knows that Phoebe and Thomas would have wanted her checked for taint. Keisha and Tamsin would have wanted to follow threads back to her sister, if she has a sister, if she is not out here alone and insane trying to goad them into giving up more information. Even Lola can't reliably predict what Hector would have done but they all know what Erich would have done.
There's too much variability when dealing with the ones actually perpetuating the War. This woman considers her options. If she were lying about the sister Éva would have seen it.
That Sam projects an air of trust and companionability - that it is an air - is lost on the woman. She's too distracted now by all of the questions and all of the possible ends to this ride she's started.
"She does exist," she says. "For now. If the day comes I do not recognize her, then no. This sister will not exist. She is my twin, Mister Lambros. And this was all her doing. I will take responsibility for not stopping her sooner, but... we all have reasons for doing the things we do, yeah?
"If you can stop this, whatever it is that made your friend bite her, I will give you everything we have. The computers, the notebooks. Our guns. All of it. And you'll never hear from us again. That is what I propose."
She pulls a business card out of her pocket. On the back she has written another address. She hands it to Éva.
"Meet me here at the same time next Friday, if you accept. My name is Nina."
That isn't her full name but it's enough for mystics to work off of. She leaves them with that. Turns and walks back the way she came. That's another difference between them and their cousins. She would have never given a wolf her back.
EvansSam's aura of trust and kindness isn't so much an air as it is a projection of her self. She is kind. She draws frightened Black Spiral Dancer cubs into the circle of her arms not because she'd want her last act on this earth to be one of kindness, but because that is the kind of selfless person that she is. She rescued a squalling baby from a burning bar not for praise or accolades, but because that is what you do when the helpless are trapped in danger.
She is good, is Sam Evans. That does not mean that she is trusting. The woman - Nina - turns and walks away and Sam, whatever the others do, she hangs back a bit. Waiting to see if Lola has another burst of fury to get out to draw attention. When it's quiet, though, Sam glances at the others, tips her chin in farewell, and she tails the woman. Not far, just enough to catch a license plate number or see which bus she catches.
[dex+stealth, +WP]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 5 ) [WP]
Lola HawkesThere is an instance that the sister does insist, and the woman continues on in a flat tone and provides some information. It's not nearly what Lola would have wanted, and not necessarily what she was asking after in the first place. She wanted very much to know where this woman got her information and how she was able to find it there in the first place-- why she would have been prompted to dig, where she would have located their identities to even begin that digging.... This was the biggest, most important thing for her to understand because, you see, Lola is as territorial as the literal wolves she calls her cousins.
But.
She gets a name (probably a fake one), and a flimsy lead (although the address on the back of the business card would be checked into immediately), and that's all the woman provides before she turns her back on them and starts walking away. A more hotheaded Lola would have persued, would have forced hands away from the holster that she knew was there, would have knocked her skull into the pavement a few times and would have fought anyone that tried to stop her, or simply ignore their blows and pulling arms until she'd gotten what she wanted.
The Lola that stands her tonight instead takes a deep breath of cold air as though it can cool the fire in her chest, rolls her shoulders back so her chest is pushed out a bit and her back is straightened and her overall posture is larger and more intimidating, and says nothing.
She'll glare after the woman as she leaves, wait until she is out of earshot, and then say harshly to Samantha, Éva, and Alexis the three of them (this prior to Samantha sneaking off, as the Glass Walker was waiting for the Uktena to make her move anyways): "I'll give you one guess as to where I'm going." She taps the business card against her palm in indication, then slips it into her pocket and starts a distance-consuming long-legged stride back to where she parked.
Éva IllésházyÉva accepts the business card with precise, fine fingers. Glances at the address, then lifts her dark eyes back to the woman's face. Steady, quiet, withheld. Shielded, assuredly. There is a quick-curl to her mouth, which is not quite smoke and is not-quite fire and is more and less than both.
She is remarkably careful, watching the stranger walk away. Allowing the name to unfold in her tongue, consider the diverse knot of other kin to whom the woman issued whatever she issued: pleas or threats or something in between. When Nina is out of earshot, she allows the other three to inspect the business card. The name, the address. To write anything down that they desire.
Then she glances at the rest.
"Someone's going to have to meet her. I think it would be best to bring a shaman along, as well, at the very least. Perhaps the sister is a cub. Perhaps she's Fallen, or falling.
"Stay in touch," the Shadow Lord counsels the Uktena. With a faintly ironic smile. " - and if you do go looking prior to the meeting, try not tip your hand."
