22 Feb 2016
Nica was pacing again. The well worn carpeting of the narrow inn room was beginning to show signs of the rut her boots were making. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She was coiled tension, a spring ready to pop. Despite the good start to the morning, training had not gone well and like usual, she was left feeling dissatisfied and anxious. Typically, Daniel had to split his attention between multiple students at once but one on one, he was a whole different beast. Demanding and relentless, he didn’t let her give up even when she was well past the point of exhaustion.
“Ye should get some rest.” Niamh offered her sage advice from her sprawl on the bed. In comparison to Nica’s bed, it was a rumpled mess compared to the Nephilim’s militarily precise creases but man was it comfortable. One leg was left to hang off the side of the bed, shoe still on, while the other crooked at an angle, shoeless. She watched Nica pace while chewing at the edge of her thumbnail.
“I don’t need rest,” Nica snapped, stopping to squint at the blonde. Her pause was brief though and soon her feet got to moving again.
“Really, I sorta disagree. But awrigh’, whatever ya say, princess.” Niamh shrugged and felt around for the television remote again. Maybe she could watch the Jerry Springer show again for what must have been the five hundredth time that day.
Again Nica stopped, this time at the foot of Niamh’s bed, squarely between the werewolf and the TV. Her hands settled at her hips and she set her shoulders as she scowled at the woman. “Do not call me that.”
“What? Princess? S’never bothered ye b’fore…” The blonde shook her head, sitting up and setting the remote aside. Springer could wait. “Ye don’ think yer bein’ a li’l o’er sensitive do ye?”
“I’m not being over sensitive! You just, you wouldn’t understand,” she answered, her shoulders dropping. Her mouth was dry and her head ached. Really she should have done something about it but…
“Ever the martyr, ye are, Nic.” Niamh’s laugh lacked humor. Swinging the other leg over the side of the bed, she set her elbows against her knees and looked aside at the frustrated Nephilim. “Oughta call Loverboy up, maybe work some’a that frustration out.”
“Don’t bring him into this and don’t start that martyr **** again. I’m doing my duty, there’s nothing wrong with that. And there’s nothing wrong with being annoyed at how things are playing out while doing so. You don’t get to judge me for that.” Nica stood firm, her chin lifted with the indignation.
“Don’t kid yerself, ye enjoy yer sufferin’, b’cause the greater yer woes, the greater the payoffs right? Somethin’ ‘bout temperin’ ye in fire? Stronger fer yer sufferin’?” It took a lot to make Niamh bristle but sure enough, she rose to her feet and rolled her shoulders. There was an edge to the look she gave the angel blooded woman, one she couldn’t quite shake off. She moved to step past Nicanora. “I’m not doin’ this.”
Nica sidestepped between the beds, blocking most of Niamh’s path. “You’re really going to pull that card? You don’t get to spew **** like that and then turn tail and run, Nee.”
“Naw, now it’s you that doesn’t get ta call me tha’. Look, I don’t know wha’s up yer arse lately, but I’ve done nothin’ but try ta help ya in any way I can. Thought that migh’ buy me a li’l more consideration than yer sort normally give us dirty Downworlders.” In the room’s dim light, the yellow in her blue eyes seemed brighter, almost reflective when she glared at the shorter woman. “Now lemme by. I need ta get some air or somethin’.”
Nica had no answer to that, her jaw tight and her shoulders tense as Niamh pushed past her. She didn’t even turn around as Niamh scooped up her backpack by one strap, slinging it over her shoulder and starting for the door. It wasn’t until the door shut behind the blonde that she looked, staring hard at the aged wood as though perhaps if she squinted hard enough she could see through it.
Niamh didn’t look back either, hurrying out of the confines of the stuffy room, down the dingy hallway, through the quiet lobby and out into the slowly falling night beyond the front door. Normally she could handle the moody Nephilim’s attitude with ease but tonight it just set her on edge and she couldn’t explain why. Once she made it further from the inn and cast a look toward the horizon, she figured out exactly why. A full moon was rising, its sister, while not full also, still flanking it with all of the ominous influence that one would expect for one in her position. A colorful curse spilled from her lips and she considered going back to the inn. Back to hostility, which would only make things worse. She couldn’t do that. Instead, she reached out to the only other ally she had in the entire city.
need sumwhere secure 4 the nite
u know of anywhere?
Fool Moon Rising
Re: Fool Moon Rising
It wasn't as though Will could even pretend he understood what Niamh had to endure with her... no, he couldn't call it a condition. He had been around enough other people in his year here to understand that any number of lifestyles could be different and he was far from judgemental until someone really irritated him. Even then, it was all a matter of possessing his own moral imperative to make fun of someone. It made him feel normal, which was something he felt in short supply of these days. No, Niamh didn't have a condition. This was who she was and she'd been friend enough since her arrival that he wouldn't deny her a helping hand.
Careful consideration had gone into his approach to the pending problem. He couldn't direct her to some dark alley or sinister looking place without his intentions being called into question or creating the wrong impression to the locals. But he doubted an enclosed place filled with innocents would help. Not having a real timetable to work with was a little frustrating and the paramedic was almost sure movies weren't nearly rounding out his education like they should. So in the end, he sat on a bench outside of Bluebird Sky, clutching a large travel cup in each hand. In the right, his coffee. In the left, Niamh's tea. There were very few pedestrians about, this would keep her outside, and the place he had in mind wasn't far off.
So he waited and hummed.
It took Niamh exactly five minutes to get from one side of town to the other, an indiscernible slip on late winter's breeze, swallowed up in one gust and spat out at the tail end no worse for the wear. One moon, the less full of the two, was quicker than its counterpart on the rise, bathing the city in its cloud filtered glow and spurring the gael onward. She had never been to Bluebird Sky personally but Nica said they had passably decent hot chocolate, not as though Niamh partook. At one time, it made her happy to hear such talk. Tonight it only made her chest ache and her feet feel like they were made of lead. Downwind, she caught his scent before she saw him so it was with assured confidence that she offered her greeting to the man on the bench from twenty paces out.
"Tea. Ye shouldn't've." No, really, he should have. Tea was like kryptonite to the Irishwoman. As she got closer, another sniff confirmed it for certain. "Yer girlfriend's a right daft twat, I'll have ye know."
She may have been talking about the lunar situation. Maybe not. But she slowed once she neared, her typically pale blue eyes blooming a goldenrod that seemed to refract any light that touched her irises. "Sorry. Sorry ta bug ya... an' sorry ta say that. Jus'. Yea'. G'evenin'."
It should have bothered him that he felt her before he saw her, the light thrum of a choir-like chord vibrating through his veins and drawing a look to the side at her approach. He tried not to think about it. Instead, Will offered up a big grin for the tomboyish blonde werewolf and held the cup aloft for her. The mention of Nicanora and whatever her current mood was (she had to be in a mood in order to have Niamh so unpleasantly flustered) wouldn't have diminished his jovial expression if not for the label that had been applied to her (twice now). The smile faltered and anything he would have said in good fun died on the tip of his tongue.
"You know, you're the second person to call her that and everytime I hear it I'm caught between the desire to cringe and the desire to put my mushroom stamp of approval on it. As shaming as it is to say, right now cringing is winning out, though it's not for a lack of the great deal of feels I have for that warrior-princess." Her apology was brushed off with a dismissive wave and he mustered that infectious smile back up for her benefit. And maybe for his. "You're not bugging me. It's my night off and Fanny's busy and apartment hunting on my own got boring, so I'm glad to help. I can only assume I know what you need and why, I watch too many movies, so I'm hoping I can lend a hand."
"She's a girl, she's a friend, an' yer ***' on a regular basis. 'Bout as close ta normative labels as ye can get wit'out makin' it offish." Niamh bent at the waist, her hands to her knees and her shoulders curved as she exhaled a slow breath, dragging it out for as long as she could without making herself lightheaded. The subsequent inhale was much shorter and she straightened to her regular, if slouchy, height. Perhaps the tea would help. As she came closer, she reached one hand out for the proper travel cup.
"The movies get some'a it right. S'none'a that American Werewolf shyte though, so no worries." Cat was out of the bag, not as though she kept it too under wraps. After all, if Nica had put her trust in the paramedic, Niamh was willing to offer the same by some extension of the word. "'ve had close ta fourteen years ta get it under wraps but this one's catchin' me off guard. I jus' need somewhere I can stay til mornin'. Locked, if possible. Know'a anywhere?"
"Screwed up is the normal for here, so I suppose we fit right it." Will's smile was wry, disappearing briefly when he sipped from his cup. "I bet the Nephilim's Republic of Haughty Tightasses wouldn't appreciate my humor on the matter, though."
His expression softened as she explained the situation, a little light on the details but perhap a little more than his newness deserved. He could appreciate it and nodded along to the question before rising to his feet. "I know a guy with a stage space a few blocks away. Steel units with heavy doors and lock from both sides. That gonna do you?"
"Yea', well the Nephilim's Supreme Confederacy o' Racist Twatwaffles can sit an' spin fer all I care righ' now." She made a lewd gesture with one hand but took the tea for a greedy and long overdue drink. It was hot, a little too hot for consumption even, but that didn't keep her from gulping it down. Tea, soothing tea, how she missed thee. It wasn't as though she was particularly secretive on the matter but rather she kept the less pleasant information under wraps simply because she wasn't sure how he'd react. Nevermind he had been in a place like Rhydin for, what'd it say, over a year? Regardless.
"Brill. Sounds perfect." She was more than agreeable, waiting for him to get them moving before falling into step at an arm's length to his left. "Um, think I could convince ya ta lock it from the outside an' come let the dog out in the mornin'?"
The half-cocked grin said she could be at least somewhat self-deprecating about her condition.
"Shadowcunters." There. Done. Will grinned. "This is the part where we pinky-swear to never repeat this, because I like getting laid."
He set them forward at an easy, relaxed pace. Niamh seemed concerned but not yet urgency, so at best his strides were brisk. Will glanced at her sidelong as she spoke, his head bobbing with an understanding now. "Nah. I'll sit outside and keep you company. We can talk until you get moony over me and then I'll crack Scooby Doo jokes until you're over it. Then I'll feed you and walk you back to your real cell." Because the more he learned of Daniel, the more that place sounded like prison.
Niamh barked out a sharp, echoing laugh and gave him an even sharper snap point. "S'a good one. Surprised 've not heard it before. I'ma have ta keep it fer future use. From an anonymous source o' course."
Affecting a fairly relaxed posture, all things considered, she was really counting down the minutes in her head. She had an hour and a half, maybe two hours before the Change would force her hand but her long legged stride kept up with him in such a way that made it look easy. "Ye sure ya wanna be doin' that? Ain't the most pleasant thing in tha world ta listen to. Though maybe not as bad as yer puns."
Careful consideration had gone into his approach to the pending problem. He couldn't direct her to some dark alley or sinister looking place without his intentions being called into question or creating the wrong impression to the locals. But he doubted an enclosed place filled with innocents would help. Not having a real timetable to work with was a little frustrating and the paramedic was almost sure movies weren't nearly rounding out his education like they should. So in the end, he sat on a bench outside of Bluebird Sky, clutching a large travel cup in each hand. In the right, his coffee. In the left, Niamh's tea. There were very few pedestrians about, this would keep her outside, and the place he had in mind wasn't far off.
So he waited and hummed.
It took Niamh exactly five minutes to get from one side of town to the other, an indiscernible slip on late winter's breeze, swallowed up in one gust and spat out at the tail end no worse for the wear. One moon, the less full of the two, was quicker than its counterpart on the rise, bathing the city in its cloud filtered glow and spurring the gael onward. She had never been to Bluebird Sky personally but Nica said they had passably decent hot chocolate, not as though Niamh partook. At one time, it made her happy to hear such talk. Tonight it only made her chest ache and her feet feel like they were made of lead. Downwind, she caught his scent before she saw him so it was with assured confidence that she offered her greeting to the man on the bench from twenty paces out.
"Tea. Ye shouldn't've." No, really, he should have. Tea was like kryptonite to the Irishwoman. As she got closer, another sniff confirmed it for certain. "Yer girlfriend's a right daft twat, I'll have ye know."
She may have been talking about the lunar situation. Maybe not. But she slowed once she neared, her typically pale blue eyes blooming a goldenrod that seemed to refract any light that touched her irises. "Sorry. Sorry ta bug ya... an' sorry ta say that. Jus'. Yea'. G'evenin'."
It should have bothered him that he felt her before he saw her, the light thrum of a choir-like chord vibrating through his veins and drawing a look to the side at her approach. He tried not to think about it. Instead, Will offered up a big grin for the tomboyish blonde werewolf and held the cup aloft for her. The mention of Nicanora and whatever her current mood was (she had to be in a mood in order to have Niamh so unpleasantly flustered) wouldn't have diminished his jovial expression if not for the label that had been applied to her (twice now). The smile faltered and anything he would have said in good fun died on the tip of his tongue.
"You know, you're the second person to call her that and everytime I hear it I'm caught between the desire to cringe and the desire to put my mushroom stamp of approval on it. As shaming as it is to say, right now cringing is winning out, though it's not for a lack of the great deal of feels I have for that warrior-princess." Her apology was brushed off with a dismissive wave and he mustered that infectious smile back up for her benefit. And maybe for his. "You're not bugging me. It's my night off and Fanny's busy and apartment hunting on my own got boring, so I'm glad to help. I can only assume I know what you need and why, I watch too many movies, so I'm hoping I can lend a hand."
"She's a girl, she's a friend, an' yer ***' on a regular basis. 'Bout as close ta normative labels as ye can get wit'out makin' it offish." Niamh bent at the waist, her hands to her knees and her shoulders curved as she exhaled a slow breath, dragging it out for as long as she could without making herself lightheaded. The subsequent inhale was much shorter and she straightened to her regular, if slouchy, height. Perhaps the tea would help. As she came closer, she reached one hand out for the proper travel cup.
"The movies get some'a it right. S'none'a that American Werewolf shyte though, so no worries." Cat was out of the bag, not as though she kept it too under wraps. After all, if Nica had put her trust in the paramedic, Niamh was willing to offer the same by some extension of the word. "'ve had close ta fourteen years ta get it under wraps but this one's catchin' me off guard. I jus' need somewhere I can stay til mornin'. Locked, if possible. Know'a anywhere?"
"Screwed up is the normal for here, so I suppose we fit right it." Will's smile was wry, disappearing briefly when he sipped from his cup. "I bet the Nephilim's Republic of Haughty Tightasses wouldn't appreciate my humor on the matter, though."
His expression softened as she explained the situation, a little light on the details but perhap a little more than his newness deserved. He could appreciate it and nodded along to the question before rising to his feet. "I know a guy with a stage space a few blocks away. Steel units with heavy doors and lock from both sides. That gonna do you?"
"Yea', well the Nephilim's Supreme Confederacy o' Racist Twatwaffles can sit an' spin fer all I care righ' now." She made a lewd gesture with one hand but took the tea for a greedy and long overdue drink. It was hot, a little too hot for consumption even, but that didn't keep her from gulping it down. Tea, soothing tea, how she missed thee. It wasn't as though she was particularly secretive on the matter but rather she kept the less pleasant information under wraps simply because she wasn't sure how he'd react. Nevermind he had been in a place like Rhydin for, what'd it say, over a year? Regardless.
"Brill. Sounds perfect." She was more than agreeable, waiting for him to get them moving before falling into step at an arm's length to his left. "Um, think I could convince ya ta lock it from the outside an' come let the dog out in the mornin'?"
The half-cocked grin said she could be at least somewhat self-deprecating about her condition.
"Shadowcunters." There. Done. Will grinned. "This is the part where we pinky-swear to never repeat this, because I like getting laid."
He set them forward at an easy, relaxed pace. Niamh seemed concerned but not yet urgency, so at best his strides were brisk. Will glanced at her sidelong as she spoke, his head bobbing with an understanding now. "Nah. I'll sit outside and keep you company. We can talk until you get moony over me and then I'll crack Scooby Doo jokes until you're over it. Then I'll feed you and walk you back to your real cell." Because the more he learned of Daniel, the more that place sounded like prison.
Niamh barked out a sharp, echoing laugh and gave him an even sharper snap point. "S'a good one. Surprised 've not heard it before. I'ma have ta keep it fer future use. From an anonymous source o' course."
Affecting a fairly relaxed posture, all things considered, she was really counting down the minutes in her head. She had an hour and a half, maybe two hours before the Change would force her hand but her long legged stride kept up with him in such a way that made it look easy. "Ye sure ya wanna be doin' that? Ain't the most pleasant thing in tha world ta listen to. Though maybe not as bad as yer puns."
Re: Fool Moon Rising
"Maybe I'm not being generous enough. Nicanora," he liked saying her name like that, "is pretty tops on my list of favorite people and Crispin is pretty cool for a quiet, broody guy. Though he needs a motorcycle. And some sunglasses. The Nephiliminator. Man, could you see that?" Will grinned. "I'll stare bach," he mimicked Arnie's voice. "Come with me if you want to drink tea..."
"Daniel's the one that's a tweaked nipple. Maybe Fanny's old man. Couldn't hear him talking, but he sounds like a right old joy." They turned a corner and cut through a dimly lit alley. "Trust me, Niamh. I've heard some pretty bad ***."
"Fer the most part, they're a whole lot o' hoity toity arseholes. Haven't met this Cris guy but he seems more along the lines o' Nic's thinkin', which fer their kind is pretty progressive. An' even she has her slip ups." The words were bitter, the wounds were fresh. Niamh gulped at the tea again and turned down the alley like it wasn't a thing. Her eyes adjusted perfectly, perhaps quicker than her escort and by far easier than any normal human. Not that she thought Will was normal. Not in the least.
"Gregorio's...old school. Proud man, stuck in the old ways but with a daughter that's been rebellin' 'gainst that ever since her mum croaked. Much as I'd like ta say he's lookin' out fer 'is girl, he's unfortunately also up there on the racist twatwaffle list too." The lycanthrope cut him a look, appraising in its once over. "At the very least, yer a step up so there's that." She paused. "But if it gets bad, I won't be offended if ye leave."
"No one's perfect." Will shrugged. For as serious as his recent conversation with Nicanora was, the optimism dimmed in him every time he considered the potential eventualities. He wasn't certain she would stay in Rhy'din. Duty called and she had to respect that. Thinking about it hurt. "But her ass is. Just saying."
"I'm a step up from something, sure. What that something is? Up for grabs." His smile wavered. "I've heard bad. I've seen worse. Battlefield's a screwed up place."
"I'll give ye that." She sniggered, faltering only to take a slow breath. Blowing out through pursed lips, she lifted her eyes toward the skies and sucked at her teeth. Two moons. Who would have though to plan for something like that?
"Heh. Yer a step up from me. That's what." Shoving a hand back through her hair, when she pulled it free, it left her locks a worse mess than usual. The laugh she managed was dry. "Ye heard someone break an' reform two hundred bones pretty much at once? Sounds worse than it is."
He had her thinking though. And the thoughts had her adjusting the straps of her backpack, the contents of which weighed heavily on her. "Where'd ya serve?"
"That's subjective." He shrugged again and turned them down another alley, the lights brighter at its end. "Maybe on your Earth. Maybe not."
He listened to her describe the transformation in limited detail and winced. The paramedic had experienced plenty, perhaps even worse than that, but those were difficult comparisons to make. In the end, he shook his head. "Don't know if I could imagine it. Sounds terrible, though. I served all over. The Middle East, Africa, South America. The Ukraine. Bad places with unpleasant locals."
"By their standards, s'what I mean." She chuckled again and kept pace, bright gaze taking in each detail of her surroundings. It was an easy path to retrace should he need arise but didn't want to miss any of it, committing every inch to memory. Sliding a look over to him, she nodded shortly.
"Where all'a the shyte hits the fan. Maroon beret, yea'?" That memory, it was a steel trap even when she was distracted. Her distraction kept bleeding into the conversation, her fingers fidgeting with the backpack's straps with each darting of her eyes heavenwards.
"Who rescues the badasses when they get in over their heads?" Will's mouth twitched in a faint smile, a handsome expression of there ever was one save for the lines around his eyes that hinted at sadness. He sipped at his travel cup a few times, occasionally casting a glance over at the blonde werewolf. "I've seen some stuff, yeah. Not demons or vampires or dragons, but... stuff. Sometimes men are the worst monsters."
Towards the end of the last alley, he stopped them before a set of all metal doors and shoved his free hand into his pocket to fish around for some keys. "Was it the ink that gave it away? I didn't take you for the type to have a heavy interest in the military."
Niamh caught the smile sidelong and it resounded quite the note of irony. She could have remarked how it was funny that he had fallen in with the Nephilim, how she had as well, all of it really was quite humorous if you looked at it from the proper perspective. That said, she wasn't feeling the humor just yet and instead she chuffed a canid snort and nodded her head. "Can be, that's fer damn sure."
Sneakers scuffed to a halt, crunching on the gravel, glass, and other miscellaneous detritus of the alley as she watched him feel around for keys. The metal doors were surely ominous even on the best of days but she could only think about how well they'd do at keeping things in rather than out. "The ink, yea'. M'da's Dáil Éireann IRA, was through his contacts that I made it o'er to tha States when I was younger. Did some work fer 'em stateside, made a lotta friends an' contacts that way. Ended up in Miami on a job an' stayed there. Got a couple in the pack that've got service under their belts. Former Ranger, Combat Controller, uh, couple others. Support system fer Changed vets ain't exactly the strongest, ye know, so they usually fall in ta similar packs."
"It's funny, almost. Even when people find out you've been a combat medic, most of them wanna ask: 'How many people have you killed?' Like I'm supposed to be keeping count. No one ever asks how many lives you saved. That and assuming that if you're in the Air Force and you're not a fighter pilot, you must be some sorta pushover. People, man." The paramedic produced his keys and began sorting through the, in the ambient light that stretched down the alley from the street, finding the one he was looking for and trying to jiggle it into the lock. Jiggle. Jiggle, jiggle.
It didn't work. "Huh."
He talked as he fiddled with it. "The support system for Vets, period, isn't the strongest. And VA administration is a joke. I thought about doing that after mustering out, you know. Staffing at a VA hospital."
"Have to learn how to kill before they let you save. Even in the Chair Force." It was a good natured ribbing that she was offering, held together with a crookedly sharp grin. As he tried keys, she found herself bouncing on her toes, her long arms crossing her torso while her fingers wound around the straps of her backpack. Her nails bit into the nylon canvas until it began to fray in little crescents under each finger.
"Yea', so take how weak that is an' somehow find a way ta make it worse. But the packs take care'a their own so it works out." She sucked in a breath and held it. "Sure ye got the right place?"
"Yeah. This should be the place. The crack den is around the corner." He shot a teasing grin over his shoulder. "Benny gave me a leg up when I first got here. He's a little on the shady side, but good people. The key should work..."
"An' here I thought we passed it on the way in." Niamh chuckled and pulled a hand away from the backpack strap to smear her fingers over her mouth. It wiped the grin away as she pursed her lips to exhale. "I run a garage tha' doubles as a chop shop slash wolf den, so ah, 'm not too concerned 'bout shady."
She was however concerned about the cresting moon, its silver beams stretching high in the sky to announce its rise. Thirty minutes tops, she estimated, and even then she couldn't be sure with the secondary influence of the other moon. "Think he'd be opposed ta breakin' in?"
"Welcome to West End." The wide-eyed look he gave her was deliberate and preceded a big grin, before he was pocketing the keys. His multi-tool was pulled from its place on his belt. "You got a hair pin?"
"Do I really look like the sort ta use a hair pin?" She shoved a hand back through the mussed blonde. When she pulled her fingers free, they were tipped with sharp claws ending in wicked points. At the very least it was an intentional change so she stepped toward the door and gestured for him to move aside. Once she could take a look at the lock, she wedged her pinky nail into it, twisting and turning. She paused twice and had to withdraw partway once, but finally she engaged the right tumbler and with a click, disengaged the lock. "Man it's been awhile since I did tha'."
"Hair pins are a utilitarian item," Will informed her matter of factly, pointing at her and stepping aside. "You remember that, Niamh, or I'm gonna call the Comfortable Shoe Police and have your carpet licking privileges revoked."
The tool was replaced in his help and he watched her with no small amount of appreciation and perhaps a touch of wonder. He really needed to get some real superpowers. When the lock finally popped open, he was stepping past her again, clapping her lightly on the back as he did, and then pocketing the open padlock. A heavy tug brought the door open. "Don't mind the smell. Benny likes dogs and keeps them here sometimes."
At least she appreciated his humor.
"Daniel's the one that's a tweaked nipple. Maybe Fanny's old man. Couldn't hear him talking, but he sounds like a right old joy." They turned a corner and cut through a dimly lit alley. "Trust me, Niamh. I've heard some pretty bad ***."
"Fer the most part, they're a whole lot o' hoity toity arseholes. Haven't met this Cris guy but he seems more along the lines o' Nic's thinkin', which fer their kind is pretty progressive. An' even she has her slip ups." The words were bitter, the wounds were fresh. Niamh gulped at the tea again and turned down the alley like it wasn't a thing. Her eyes adjusted perfectly, perhaps quicker than her escort and by far easier than any normal human. Not that she thought Will was normal. Not in the least.
"Gregorio's...old school. Proud man, stuck in the old ways but with a daughter that's been rebellin' 'gainst that ever since her mum croaked. Much as I'd like ta say he's lookin' out fer 'is girl, he's unfortunately also up there on the racist twatwaffle list too." The lycanthrope cut him a look, appraising in its once over. "At the very least, yer a step up so there's that." She paused. "But if it gets bad, I won't be offended if ye leave."
"No one's perfect." Will shrugged. For as serious as his recent conversation with Nicanora was, the optimism dimmed in him every time he considered the potential eventualities. He wasn't certain she would stay in Rhy'din. Duty called and she had to respect that. Thinking about it hurt. "But her ass is. Just saying."
"I'm a step up from something, sure. What that something is? Up for grabs." His smile wavered. "I've heard bad. I've seen worse. Battlefield's a screwed up place."
"I'll give ye that." She sniggered, faltering only to take a slow breath. Blowing out through pursed lips, she lifted her eyes toward the skies and sucked at her teeth. Two moons. Who would have though to plan for something like that?
"Heh. Yer a step up from me. That's what." Shoving a hand back through her hair, when she pulled it free, it left her locks a worse mess than usual. The laugh she managed was dry. "Ye heard someone break an' reform two hundred bones pretty much at once? Sounds worse than it is."
He had her thinking though. And the thoughts had her adjusting the straps of her backpack, the contents of which weighed heavily on her. "Where'd ya serve?"
"That's subjective." He shrugged again and turned them down another alley, the lights brighter at its end. "Maybe on your Earth. Maybe not."
He listened to her describe the transformation in limited detail and winced. The paramedic had experienced plenty, perhaps even worse than that, but those were difficult comparisons to make. In the end, he shook his head. "Don't know if I could imagine it. Sounds terrible, though. I served all over. The Middle East, Africa, South America. The Ukraine. Bad places with unpleasant locals."
"By their standards, s'what I mean." She chuckled again and kept pace, bright gaze taking in each detail of her surroundings. It was an easy path to retrace should he need arise but didn't want to miss any of it, committing every inch to memory. Sliding a look over to him, she nodded shortly.
"Where all'a the shyte hits the fan. Maroon beret, yea'?" That memory, it was a steel trap even when she was distracted. Her distraction kept bleeding into the conversation, her fingers fidgeting with the backpack's straps with each darting of her eyes heavenwards.
"Who rescues the badasses when they get in over their heads?" Will's mouth twitched in a faint smile, a handsome expression of there ever was one save for the lines around his eyes that hinted at sadness. He sipped at his travel cup a few times, occasionally casting a glance over at the blonde werewolf. "I've seen some stuff, yeah. Not demons or vampires or dragons, but... stuff. Sometimes men are the worst monsters."
Towards the end of the last alley, he stopped them before a set of all metal doors and shoved his free hand into his pocket to fish around for some keys. "Was it the ink that gave it away? I didn't take you for the type to have a heavy interest in the military."
Niamh caught the smile sidelong and it resounded quite the note of irony. She could have remarked how it was funny that he had fallen in with the Nephilim, how she had as well, all of it really was quite humorous if you looked at it from the proper perspective. That said, she wasn't feeling the humor just yet and instead she chuffed a canid snort and nodded her head. "Can be, that's fer damn sure."
Sneakers scuffed to a halt, crunching on the gravel, glass, and other miscellaneous detritus of the alley as she watched him feel around for keys. The metal doors were surely ominous even on the best of days but she could only think about how well they'd do at keeping things in rather than out. "The ink, yea'. M'da's Dáil Éireann IRA, was through his contacts that I made it o'er to tha States when I was younger. Did some work fer 'em stateside, made a lotta friends an' contacts that way. Ended up in Miami on a job an' stayed there. Got a couple in the pack that've got service under their belts. Former Ranger, Combat Controller, uh, couple others. Support system fer Changed vets ain't exactly the strongest, ye know, so they usually fall in ta similar packs."
"It's funny, almost. Even when people find out you've been a combat medic, most of them wanna ask: 'How many people have you killed?' Like I'm supposed to be keeping count. No one ever asks how many lives you saved. That and assuming that if you're in the Air Force and you're not a fighter pilot, you must be some sorta pushover. People, man." The paramedic produced his keys and began sorting through the, in the ambient light that stretched down the alley from the street, finding the one he was looking for and trying to jiggle it into the lock. Jiggle. Jiggle, jiggle.
It didn't work. "Huh."
He talked as he fiddled with it. "The support system for Vets, period, isn't the strongest. And VA administration is a joke. I thought about doing that after mustering out, you know. Staffing at a VA hospital."
"Have to learn how to kill before they let you save. Even in the Chair Force." It was a good natured ribbing that she was offering, held together with a crookedly sharp grin. As he tried keys, she found herself bouncing on her toes, her long arms crossing her torso while her fingers wound around the straps of her backpack. Her nails bit into the nylon canvas until it began to fray in little crescents under each finger.
"Yea', so take how weak that is an' somehow find a way ta make it worse. But the packs take care'a their own so it works out." She sucked in a breath and held it. "Sure ye got the right place?"
"Yeah. This should be the place. The crack den is around the corner." He shot a teasing grin over his shoulder. "Benny gave me a leg up when I first got here. He's a little on the shady side, but good people. The key should work..."
"An' here I thought we passed it on the way in." Niamh chuckled and pulled a hand away from the backpack strap to smear her fingers over her mouth. It wiped the grin away as she pursed her lips to exhale. "I run a garage tha' doubles as a chop shop slash wolf den, so ah, 'm not too concerned 'bout shady."
She was however concerned about the cresting moon, its silver beams stretching high in the sky to announce its rise. Thirty minutes tops, she estimated, and even then she couldn't be sure with the secondary influence of the other moon. "Think he'd be opposed ta breakin' in?"
"Welcome to West End." The wide-eyed look he gave her was deliberate and preceded a big grin, before he was pocketing the keys. His multi-tool was pulled from its place on his belt. "You got a hair pin?"
"Do I really look like the sort ta use a hair pin?" She shoved a hand back through the mussed blonde. When she pulled her fingers free, they were tipped with sharp claws ending in wicked points. At the very least it was an intentional change so she stepped toward the door and gestured for him to move aside. Once she could take a look at the lock, she wedged her pinky nail into it, twisting and turning. She paused twice and had to withdraw partway once, but finally she engaged the right tumbler and with a click, disengaged the lock. "Man it's been awhile since I did tha'."
"Hair pins are a utilitarian item," Will informed her matter of factly, pointing at her and stepping aside. "You remember that, Niamh, or I'm gonna call the Comfortable Shoe Police and have your carpet licking privileges revoked."
The tool was replaced in his help and he watched her with no small amount of appreciation and perhaps a touch of wonder. He really needed to get some real superpowers. When the lock finally popped open, he was stepping past her again, clapping her lightly on the back as he did, and then pocketing the open padlock. A heavy tug brought the door open. "Don't mind the smell. Benny likes dogs and keeps them here sometimes."
At least she appreciated his humor.
Re: Fool Moon Rising
"Oh no, please don' take m'dyke card. Whatever would I do then." The flat deadpan didn't quite match the tremble of a grin that threatened her faux seriousness. As she stepped aside briefly to allow him entry first, she managed another laugh and moved inside. "I'll fit righ' in then."
Even in the dark, her eyes adjusted immediately and she swept a quick look around her surroundings. Chin lifted slightly to scent the place, trying to get a feel for just the sort of locale Will had brought her to. Not as though she could be choosy after all. Desperate times. Desperate measures. It would do.
"Hey, I know some nice girls working dispatch if you're looking for a little company." He bobbed his brows and stepped across the threshold into the darkness, reaching instinctively to his left to flip a switch. An electric up and a few flickers saw a domino effect hazy lights coming to life down the long stretch of a hallway and bathing it in a sickly yellow light. The walls were lined with old metal garage doors, as many closed as opened, and with most of the closed doors boasting locks.
"Ah, I dunno. 'M pretty picky." She laughed and shielded her eyes with a hand over her brow just long enough to make another adjustment. Low whistle was blown past her lips as she started down the hall at a less than brisk pace. While she was intent on securing herself, she wanted to check it all out first. Explore the digs, ya know. Stepping through a flickering patch of dingy yellow, she stood in the doorway of one of the open metal doors to an empty unit.
"'M gonna leave m'backpack out here. Said it locks from both sides?" She canted a look back to the paramedic. Despite all of her joking, a clear apprehension crinkled the corners of her eyes and tensed her posture. Unfamiliar places and vulnerable moments had a way of doing that even to the best of 'em.
Will lingered in the doorway and gave the woman her space, letting her feel the place out. A slow lean saw him slumped against a nearby wall, reliving a memory or two as he listened to her talk, only to reach a hand out for her luggage. "Hand it over. Am I gonna find any princess plugs or used tampons if I start going through it looking for snacks?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Simple latch on the inside. Steel slides and a deadbolt on the outside. That gonna work for you?"
Shrugging the pack off, she held it out by one strap. She was slow to relinquish her hold but once it was out of her grip, her hands dropped to her sides. It was a well used bag, frayed in places but sturdily built so that the little edges didn't matter. Eyes that had gone more yellow than blue rose and fell between the paramedic and the backpack a few times before finally settling on the man. "I really don' recommend goin' through it unless ye want yer fingers broken."
Then what he said registered and she let out a laugh that echoed through the empty unit. Niamh stepped back further into it, reaching for a hold on the door. "Got no clue wha' a princess plug migh' be an' 'm not sure I wanna know but nah, none'a the other. Scouts honor." Rather than the three fingers that would go with a girl scout salute, she gave him a single one and a wink before yanking the door down. It let out a screeching protest but fell into place. She flipped the latch and pounded the heel of her fist against the door twice. "Good 'nough, yea'. Lock me in?"
"No broken fingers. Check." The paramedic appeared very stoic for a moment, somber beneath the weight of the threat. It didn't last. It melted away easily beneath his more typical good nature and took the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder without giving it a second thought. Whatever his curiosity over the contents of Irish lesbian werewolf handbags, it wasn't worth the cost of Niamh's opinion of him. He watched her as the door dropped, cringing for the brief screech of metal amidst the heavy rattling. When the were pounded, he pounded back, leaning close to the door to call to her. "Is it a bad time to tell you a farted in there before you closed the door?"
"Can't be any worse than what it already smelled like in 'ere. Gotta tell yer buddy ta invest in proper ventilation, s'musty as hell." She laughed and leaned her back against the door, slumping down until she could sit with her shoulders against it.
"Ey Will? Thanks man. Yer a cool guy no matter what Nic says 'boutcha." Half teasing, half sincere, it was all she could do to keep her mind busy. The Change was something she'd gotten refined down to an art, a single night each lunar cycle where it won out over the will of her humanity. But this, this was a whole different monster.
Of a companionable mood, Will finally slumped down against the other side of the door, placing the backpack in his lap and laying his head back against the dusty metal. Lapis blue eyes drifted shut. "I'm a royal pain in the ass, but I think I'm worth the headache more often than not. I'm glad, at least, that a few of you are likely to agree. And Nicanora's biased. She loves the food and the sex."
"Ye can't take too much of it ta heart when it comes t'tha others. S'jus' how they're made. Holier 'an thou through an' through but it's bred into 'em." She had finished off her tea and got rid of it on the walk over but she could have killed for another one. Niamh made a mental note to try out that Bluebird Sky place when she was feeling a little more like herself. "'Ve known Nic fer...some'at like six years now? She seems ta get a lil more laid back each year an' I think in turn Daniel gets a lil worse."
"Think she likes more 'an that, though she'll never cop to it. Whatever, so long as yer good to 'er. Don't put up with her ***, o' course, jus' be good to 'er."
"I've got a soft spot for her, yeah." Niamh seemed like a kindred spirit, after a fashion, so being candid with her wasn't as difficult with her as it was with most people. "Don't think being good to her will be all that hard. She's certainly fun to pick on."
Niamh wheezed out a laugh, a shake of her head ruffling her hair against the door that separated her from the paramedic. "Yea', gets her pretty li'l feathers all ruffled sometimes but s'cute."
A few moments passed where she lapsed into silence save for the tapping of her heel against the cement floor. Finally after a few minutes of thought, she cleared her throat and tilted her head back against the door again. "She's pretty special t'me even when she's bein' less than pleasant. I'd do mos' anythin' fer 'er, ye understand that righ'?"
"Is this the part where you tell me you'd regret breaking my neck when she eventually has to leave Rhy'din to go back to Miami, but you'd do it anyway?" The words were only half serious and, even then, mostly only as it pertained to any thoughts of Nicanora leaving. "She's becoming pretty special to me too. Didn't think I'd be interested in ever letting that happen. Maybe she sucked my soul out through my penis and now I'm just a pushover. Can Nephilim do that?"
"Naw, she's capable'a doin' that 'erself if it ever came down to it. But I don't see 'er goin' back any time soon. She was pretty insistent on comin' back here after things with Silvano. How hurt she was, I wanted to keep her somewhere I knew but Danny boy refused to do anythin' but what she wanted." Her laughter was becoming more and more sparse even if her amusement remained at the same level. Still she gave him a chuff if only to indicate she appreciated the humor. "I'd like ta say it's a Nephilim thing but I think the girl's jus' a drug in human form. Gotta be, righ'?"
The tapping of her heel quickened and she went quiet again. It was a shorter pause. Time was ticking. "Main pocket o' m'bag. Manila folder. Don' ask how I got it b'cause I can't tell ya that. But s'my only copy. Know she wouldn't mind knowin' lotta what's in it but 'm thinkin' it's yers ta tell 'er. Feckin' Christ--" The first hints of the shift began to ripple through her muscles, jolting an elbow back against the metal door. It was her cue to scoot away from it. "--ahem. Don't hafta be a pushover or nothin', but consider talkin' to 'er. She wants t'know you."
"Well, duh," Will snorted. "For as much of a dick as that guy is, have you seen the way he looks at her? It's not just me being a Mundane that gets his goat. Dude would kill to be where I'm at, which is between those long, long legs. And, a little more feelsy, in her thoughts. So I'm especially in his personal dog house. But, eh, whatever. That's on him. And Fanny? Jesus. She's hard as hell to get out of my head."
He was ready to delve a little deeper, to wax romantic about the beautiful Nephilim, when Niamh dropped her bomb. Will was a smart man and knew what was being implied without having to have it spelled out. Silence reigned.
"Keep an eye on that one. Jus' sayin'." She managed to get out, letting her words hang in his silence. Of course she didn't expect him to take it well, but one favor deserved another and she thought maybe she could even their playing ground by offering him what she had before it went to the Nephilim. The silence didn't get to linger too long though. It was broken by a pained snarl, closer to human than not. She felt sick. No, it was more like being stabbed several times over and left to die. A sharp, cold pain like her bones were falling apart as they shifted, grinding against muscle. Through the pain, her vision and hearing sharpened further and she could practically hear Will sweating on the other side of door.
"Don' be mad an' most of all, don' open the door til mornin'." At last the pained snarl lost its humanity and in the end, the wolf won out as it always did.
The anger was always there.
It rarely ever broke the surface anymore and almost always remained buried deep inside of him. At some point during the silence Will had retrieved the manila folder. He hadn't opened it. He could only assume he knew what the contents were. A lot of facts and speculation about who he was and how he should reaction to things. No, he didn't need that dredged back up. Instead he was left to wonder what he would (or should) do about it, until Niamh's final words stole him back to the present.
"I got you, Nee." He said, though the words were likely lost to the change and he pressed his back harder into the garage door. "I got you."
He really wanted to be mad.
((Thanks to Will for the scene!))
Even in the dark, her eyes adjusted immediately and she swept a quick look around her surroundings. Chin lifted slightly to scent the place, trying to get a feel for just the sort of locale Will had brought her to. Not as though she could be choosy after all. Desperate times. Desperate measures. It would do.
"Hey, I know some nice girls working dispatch if you're looking for a little company." He bobbed his brows and stepped across the threshold into the darkness, reaching instinctively to his left to flip a switch. An electric up and a few flickers saw a domino effect hazy lights coming to life down the long stretch of a hallway and bathing it in a sickly yellow light. The walls were lined with old metal garage doors, as many closed as opened, and with most of the closed doors boasting locks.
"Ah, I dunno. 'M pretty picky." She laughed and shielded her eyes with a hand over her brow just long enough to make another adjustment. Low whistle was blown past her lips as she started down the hall at a less than brisk pace. While she was intent on securing herself, she wanted to check it all out first. Explore the digs, ya know. Stepping through a flickering patch of dingy yellow, she stood in the doorway of one of the open metal doors to an empty unit.
"'M gonna leave m'backpack out here. Said it locks from both sides?" She canted a look back to the paramedic. Despite all of her joking, a clear apprehension crinkled the corners of her eyes and tensed her posture. Unfamiliar places and vulnerable moments had a way of doing that even to the best of 'em.
Will lingered in the doorway and gave the woman her space, letting her feel the place out. A slow lean saw him slumped against a nearby wall, reliving a memory or two as he listened to her talk, only to reach a hand out for her luggage. "Hand it over. Am I gonna find any princess plugs or used tampons if I start going through it looking for snacks?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Simple latch on the inside. Steel slides and a deadbolt on the outside. That gonna work for you?"
Shrugging the pack off, she held it out by one strap. She was slow to relinquish her hold but once it was out of her grip, her hands dropped to her sides. It was a well used bag, frayed in places but sturdily built so that the little edges didn't matter. Eyes that had gone more yellow than blue rose and fell between the paramedic and the backpack a few times before finally settling on the man. "I really don' recommend goin' through it unless ye want yer fingers broken."
Then what he said registered and she let out a laugh that echoed through the empty unit. Niamh stepped back further into it, reaching for a hold on the door. "Got no clue wha' a princess plug migh' be an' 'm not sure I wanna know but nah, none'a the other. Scouts honor." Rather than the three fingers that would go with a girl scout salute, she gave him a single one and a wink before yanking the door down. It let out a screeching protest but fell into place. She flipped the latch and pounded the heel of her fist against the door twice. "Good 'nough, yea'. Lock me in?"
"No broken fingers. Check." The paramedic appeared very stoic for a moment, somber beneath the weight of the threat. It didn't last. It melted away easily beneath his more typical good nature and took the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder without giving it a second thought. Whatever his curiosity over the contents of Irish lesbian werewolf handbags, it wasn't worth the cost of Niamh's opinion of him. He watched her as the door dropped, cringing for the brief screech of metal amidst the heavy rattling. When the were pounded, he pounded back, leaning close to the door to call to her. "Is it a bad time to tell you a farted in there before you closed the door?"
"Can't be any worse than what it already smelled like in 'ere. Gotta tell yer buddy ta invest in proper ventilation, s'musty as hell." She laughed and leaned her back against the door, slumping down until she could sit with her shoulders against it.
"Ey Will? Thanks man. Yer a cool guy no matter what Nic says 'boutcha." Half teasing, half sincere, it was all she could do to keep her mind busy. The Change was something she'd gotten refined down to an art, a single night each lunar cycle where it won out over the will of her humanity. But this, this was a whole different monster.
Of a companionable mood, Will finally slumped down against the other side of the door, placing the backpack in his lap and laying his head back against the dusty metal. Lapis blue eyes drifted shut. "I'm a royal pain in the ass, but I think I'm worth the headache more often than not. I'm glad, at least, that a few of you are likely to agree. And Nicanora's biased. She loves the food and the sex."
"Ye can't take too much of it ta heart when it comes t'tha others. S'jus' how they're made. Holier 'an thou through an' through but it's bred into 'em." She had finished off her tea and got rid of it on the walk over but she could have killed for another one. Niamh made a mental note to try out that Bluebird Sky place when she was feeling a little more like herself. "'Ve known Nic fer...some'at like six years now? She seems ta get a lil more laid back each year an' I think in turn Daniel gets a lil worse."
"Think she likes more 'an that, though she'll never cop to it. Whatever, so long as yer good to 'er. Don't put up with her ***, o' course, jus' be good to 'er."
"I've got a soft spot for her, yeah." Niamh seemed like a kindred spirit, after a fashion, so being candid with her wasn't as difficult with her as it was with most people. "Don't think being good to her will be all that hard. She's certainly fun to pick on."
Niamh wheezed out a laugh, a shake of her head ruffling her hair against the door that separated her from the paramedic. "Yea', gets her pretty li'l feathers all ruffled sometimes but s'cute."
A few moments passed where she lapsed into silence save for the tapping of her heel against the cement floor. Finally after a few minutes of thought, she cleared her throat and tilted her head back against the door again. "She's pretty special t'me even when she's bein' less than pleasant. I'd do mos' anythin' fer 'er, ye understand that righ'?"
"Is this the part where you tell me you'd regret breaking my neck when she eventually has to leave Rhy'din to go back to Miami, but you'd do it anyway?" The words were only half serious and, even then, mostly only as it pertained to any thoughts of Nicanora leaving. "She's becoming pretty special to me too. Didn't think I'd be interested in ever letting that happen. Maybe she sucked my soul out through my penis and now I'm just a pushover. Can Nephilim do that?"
"Naw, she's capable'a doin' that 'erself if it ever came down to it. But I don't see 'er goin' back any time soon. She was pretty insistent on comin' back here after things with Silvano. How hurt she was, I wanted to keep her somewhere I knew but Danny boy refused to do anythin' but what she wanted." Her laughter was becoming more and more sparse even if her amusement remained at the same level. Still she gave him a chuff if only to indicate she appreciated the humor. "I'd like ta say it's a Nephilim thing but I think the girl's jus' a drug in human form. Gotta be, righ'?"
The tapping of her heel quickened and she went quiet again. It was a shorter pause. Time was ticking. "Main pocket o' m'bag. Manila folder. Don' ask how I got it b'cause I can't tell ya that. But s'my only copy. Know she wouldn't mind knowin' lotta what's in it but 'm thinkin' it's yers ta tell 'er. Feckin' Christ--" The first hints of the shift began to ripple through her muscles, jolting an elbow back against the metal door. It was her cue to scoot away from it. "--ahem. Don't hafta be a pushover or nothin', but consider talkin' to 'er. She wants t'know you."
"Well, duh," Will snorted. "For as much of a dick as that guy is, have you seen the way he looks at her? It's not just me being a Mundane that gets his goat. Dude would kill to be where I'm at, which is between those long, long legs. And, a little more feelsy, in her thoughts. So I'm especially in his personal dog house. But, eh, whatever. That's on him. And Fanny? Jesus. She's hard as hell to get out of my head."
He was ready to delve a little deeper, to wax romantic about the beautiful Nephilim, when Niamh dropped her bomb. Will was a smart man and knew what was being implied without having to have it spelled out. Silence reigned.
"Keep an eye on that one. Jus' sayin'." She managed to get out, letting her words hang in his silence. Of course she didn't expect him to take it well, but one favor deserved another and she thought maybe she could even their playing ground by offering him what she had before it went to the Nephilim. The silence didn't get to linger too long though. It was broken by a pained snarl, closer to human than not. She felt sick. No, it was more like being stabbed several times over and left to die. A sharp, cold pain like her bones were falling apart as they shifted, grinding against muscle. Through the pain, her vision and hearing sharpened further and she could practically hear Will sweating on the other side of door.
"Don' be mad an' most of all, don' open the door til mornin'." At last the pained snarl lost its humanity and in the end, the wolf won out as it always did.
The anger was always there.
It rarely ever broke the surface anymore and almost always remained buried deep inside of him. At some point during the silence Will had retrieved the manila folder. He hadn't opened it. He could only assume he knew what the contents were. A lot of facts and speculation about who he was and how he should reaction to things. No, he didn't need that dredged back up. Instead he was left to wonder what he would (or should) do about it, until Niamh's final words stole him back to the present.
"I got you, Nee." He said, though the words were likely lost to the change and he pressed his back harder into the garage door. "I got you."
He really wanted to be mad.
((Thanks to Will for the scene!))
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