Loneliness, Texas, and a Pronoun

[Gina McClaren]

----recapped---- [Boy] The pronoun comes in with head ducked and quiet politeness playing out in his narrowing shoulders and respectful distance from both parties present. He looked tired somehow. Stressed or frustrated or...something. Something that had him just a bit off. But, even though it outshines Waco's own by degrees, and even though the smoldering pressure of it seems to warm the small house slightly uncomfortably, it isn't his Rage that's off. That is held firmly in check. Something about Boy just wasn't right. "Brother of the Lost." He says in a soft but smoothly deep voice. He grips Waco's extended arm at the wrist and forearm. The two had similar hands, but Boy's had yet to grow knotty or imposing in anyway. In fact, looking at him, he couldn't be a day over seventeen. "Cliath Law-moon" He continues, and releases the other's hand. His eyes wander over him, over his clothes and bald head and even his mouth as he speaks. Where Waco's are bright and vibrant, Boy's gaze is deep, long, and somehow hungry. [Administrator] Boy has left Bronzeville (Southside) [Gina McClaren] *The curvy strider kin watched the two interact with unabashed curiosity, dark eyes alight with interest and mischief. She's silent for now, cozy kitchen radiating warmth and thrumming with the subtle press of rage held in steady check. The two Uktena getting a soft smile as she has a sip of tea. Without the pleasant rise and fall of her singsong, the two men are left to their own chatter. She takes in the differences between them with a chuckle. Boy short, of darker completion, eyes speaking of something fathomless and unrelenting. Waco tall, comparably fair, and full of slightly manic affability. The deep kid and the crazed Texan* [Waco Rogers] While Boy is barely out of the pubescent stage, Waco is at the far end of it. He'd reached his full maturity long ago, and is nearing the first stages of the end of his life. Or at least most kids Boy's age would say so. If you asked someone Waco's age however, they would say that 30 is the new 20. The kid makes formal introductions, and Waco glances from Gina to Boy with a slowly growing smile. "Some folk call me Skah Patwin... others call me White Man. Either way, they come down t'the same thing I reckin." While there were glaringly obvious differences in the two, there were similarities as well. "Cliath." Yep. At his age. "Half moon." Another similarity. "Uktena." That however, seems to be where the things they have in common draw to an end. Waco is twice Boy's age. Tall, pale, with glittering blue eyes that dance on th edge of intensity. He sips coffee from one of Gina's mugs, his jaw flexing around each swallow. "I reckin Gina here's mentioned y'all once'r twice."

[Boy]

Boy nods once, firmly. He doesn't sit. Instead he begins rooting through his pockets, which actually seem to be heavy with who knows what. From deep in one pocket he pulls out a wad of folded tissue, turning to Gina as he opened it. "Gina. I brought you something." Its a pendant, it seems. Simple, and humbly pretty. The blue glass has been smoothed of almost all its edges, shaped into a teardrop shape, and wrapped and held tightly in copper wiring. Held up to the light it glowed with a dull, smokey blue. A simple bauble, but a gift nonetheless. "For being our host." He holds it out to her, handing her the tissue as well as the pendant. "And for you, White Man." He doesn't have to reach as far into his back pocket for Waco's gift. He pulls out what seems to be a simple wooden rod, about seven inches long. Boy holds it in both hands, and pulls it apart slightly, sliding the wooden sheath off the blade. Its short, too short to be a useful weapon. And the blade isn't some gleaming sport hunting, tempered steal item. Its ugly, but shaped into a nice point, and sharpened on both sides. "This is for you."

[Gina McClaren]

*Gina leans forward in her chair, looking at Boy like he was a wonder as she holds the pendant in her palm. No one ever gave the little Indian kin gifts, and yet this one was the second she'd received from the young Uktena. Her face falls soft as she admires it and sets it carefully aside.* Thank ye Boy darlin. Ah appreciate et. *A hum of soft appreciation before she looks on with curiosity at Waco's gift. It appeared neither Philodox was inclined to sit.*

[Waco Rogers]

The kid starts handing out presents, and Waco sits watching as Gina receives hers. His pale blue eyes aglitter with a smile as he eyes the kids handy work, and Gina's reaction to it. Then Boy digs in his pocket again, and pulls out a little something for Waco, and the tall lean cowboy takes the rudimentary knife with a sense of care and purpose. He turns the wood sheathed blade over in his weathered hands, and utters a low whistle of sound. "Thank ya kindly." He tucks the knife into an inside pocket of his worn denim jacket, and then pats the spot on the outside of the jacket as though to say, it's all tucked in tight. "I didn't bring anythin along fer y'all but I reckin if it suits ya... yer more'n welcome t'come out t'my ranch anytime fer a sweat. I reckin there ain't many places in Chicago where y'all can go fer a good sweat." Not that all Uktena partake in the usage of a sweat lodge, but the offer stands as a reciprocated gift.

[Soledad Gutierrez]

Soledad had captured word of an request for her presence at Gina's house. Some sort of dinner party or another. When you didn't have a roof over your head or a steady source of food, it was almost impossible to turn down a good meal. Especially when your body was wearing on you as hard as Soledad's was. So she came the only way she knew how-- by foot. The Uktena marched along sidewalks through the rain, occasionally hitching a ride on the back of a truck that was careless enough to not notice the lanky dark-skinned girl perched just past their tailgate with her feet dangling a few inches above pavement that swept rapidly away under her soles. She would arrive at Gina's, but by the time she did she was soaked to the bone, her thin black T-shirt sticking to her skin, her thick black hair stuck to her forehead, face, neck and back. Her jeans were stiff with moisture and rubbed uncomfortably between her thighs when she walked, and her sneakers were sopping wet and squished unpleasantly when she took a step. The wind would sweep, her skin would goosepimple, but she didn't complain or seem to notice. She simply strolled up to Gina's door and laid solemn knuckles to it three times. Knock-knock-knock.

[Boy]

Boy's eyes follow Waco's movements closely, noting where he put the pocket, and apparrently analyzing his smile like it was some exotic animal. Then he mentions coming out for a 'good sweat.' "You have a lodge?" He asks. Something dances in his eyes. "And a ranch?" He seems about to say something else when there's a knock at the door. Boy turns to the general direction, and his expression darkens. His chest rises slowly, and drops quickly as he let out a quiet sigh. That would be the third, then.

[Page from Mei]

hi everyone, I am making chat configuration changes. PLEASE DO NOT POST BETWEEN 7:46 and 7:48 or you may risk losing your posts.

[Gina McClaren]

Tha ee daes.. *She interjects in a warm singsong, she's up again, jingling and swishing between the two men, an apologetic touch to Waco's shoulder as she moves to the door, opening it and doing a double take at Soledad's soaked state. Her outraged exclaimation resonating through the little house.* CHRIST! Darlin coom enside, yer fookin soaked. Ah'm certain ah could o found somewan tae gi' ye a ride... Och.. *A heavy sigh as the pikey is making to shut the door behind Soledad, singing more quietly.* Boy an' Waco are en tha kitchen. Ah made ye some ginger tea, an there are meat an' veggie pies on tha table. ... Ah'll gie ye some dry clothes....

[Waco Rogers]

"I do. And I do." Waco's is an easy smile. His mouth always (well almost always) seems on the verge of it. Boys reaction is expected, for the most part. Because as Waco said, it's probably hard to find a place in the city to touch base with your roots. They are interupted by another knock at the front door, and as Boy turns in that direction and sighs, Waco turns toward his coffee and takes a sip. His attention is drawn toward the front door by Gina's reaction to whoever it is. A curious hitch to one brow, he leans out in his chair. Tall enough to remain seated, and see around the corner into the entry hall. He takes in the visage of the damp woman at the door, then casts a curious glance at Boy before returning his attention to his coffee. Going on, as though the sodden newcomer were a common occurance. "Like I said, y'all'r welcome anytime."

[Boy]

He seemed a bit distracted, listening quietly Gina at the door and whatever exchange there might be between her and the latest guest. Waco's voice brings him back, however, and he turns back to the other philodox crossing his arms across his chest and nodding, eyes slightly less intense. Slightly. "I might take you up on that. I haven't had a chance since leaving Oklahoma."

[Soledad Gutierrez]

Soledad stared rather blandly at Gina as she cursed loudly and ushered her inside, complaining about how she's soaked, how she could have hitched a ride. It was impossible for the Ahroun not to imagine the Kinfolk twenty years down the line as a somewhat stockier forty-some year old woman with a dozen kids scampering around her, but with complete control and confidence on every child. The essential mother hen. Soledad stepped inside and peered down at the Pikey as she gestured to the kitchen, explained that there was tea and vegetable pies, and that she was going to go fetch her some dry clothes. The tall female with the deep alto voice shook her head and spoke faintly as her dark amber eyes switched from Kinfolk to the two Garou in the kitchen. Boy, a face she recognized and found herself oddly wary of, and Waco, a face she'd yet to see. She spoke as she surveyed the new man. "Your clothes will not fit me..." Never was a truer statement made, nor a more obvious one. Soledad had at least a half a foot on the short woman, perhaps closer to a full foot in height, even when she stepped out of the squishing sneakers to stand on her bare feet on the carpet. She was tall and thin, Gina's clothes would be too broad and too short for her. That and there was the bulge at her midsection made all the more apparent by the fact that her shirt was sticking to her like a second skin. The being soaked in threadbare clothes left little to the imagination, and a more self-conscious/self-aware woman would be modest and covering up were they in her situation.

[Gina McClaren]

Ah have others loves.. *She singsongs teasingly from the guest room, whatever further self deprecating comment she was going to make falling dead on her lips as she rummages about faintly. Gina's own room is the one opening into the kitchen, door open, caramel kin apparently not worried about her privacy. She takes her time, letting the three visit.*

[Boy]

As Soledad entered the room Boy stepped oddly to one side, and then back, giving the full moon plenty of room. He didn't rush to greet her. He didn't grasp her at the wrist and forearm. Didn't cluck over her soaking wet state the way Gina did. He simply met her gaze with equal recognition and apprehension, and nodded slowly. "Muerte Fria."

[Waco Rogers]

Once Soledad is ushered into the house, and is standing dripping inside the door, Waco peers down the hallway at her. The lean cowboy takes particular note of the way Boy greets the newcomer, one blond brow cocking mildly. He rises from his chair, and tips an imaginary hat, as his own weathered cowboy hat is resting idle on the table next to his coffee cup. "Howdy ma'am." A polite and courteous greeting for a stranger. He nods toward the dripping woman, his intense blue gaze taking her in. There is nothing lusty about his stare as her clothing clings to her wetly. It is a calculated look, measured and thorough. In a glance, he takes in the depth of her rage, and with it, her lineage. He sees in her facial structure that of his own female ancestors, and in just a few heartbeats he knows more about this woman than she knows of him. Gina called her Soledad. Boy called her Muerta Fria.

[Soledad Gutierrez]

Gina assured her that she had other clothes, and Soledad simply shrugged her shoulders dismissively. If the Strider wanted to dress her up, that was fine. Sol wouldn't protest to warm dry clothes in a warm dry home. She turned to fully face the two men (the man and the Boy) in the kitchen, and there was a deep, sharp, lingering moment of scrutiny that passed between those in the kitchen and the one in the entrance. Her eyes flicked from the man with the shaved head and the clear blue eyes to a face more familiar. "Brother of the Lost." The return was simple, solemn, and she looked back to Waco when he greeted her. "And you are?" The tone wasn't haughty, she didn't address him as though she thought herself better, didn't veer away from what was considered a polite greeting on purpose. She just seemed to have no grasp whatsoever on what was considered acceptable etiquette.

[Boy]

Boy's hands slide into the back pockets of his jeans and his shoulders point forward awkwardly. He stays that way, keeping silent as the other two introduce themselves.

[Waco Rogers]

He holds out a long fingers, calloused hand toward the woman. "Names Waco Rogers ma'am." Waco has always had more tolerance for rudeness from women, than he has for rudeness from men. Perhaps it's because he expects men to know better. "Skah Patwin, some folk call me." He glances briefly at Boy as though to apologize for the redundance of his introduction. Boy heard all this just a moment ago. But garou get used to hear, and saying the same introductions over and over again as a rule. "Or White Man if it suits. Cliath, half moon." If there is a pause, or a lack of response he waits a breath...

[Gina McClaren]

*The swish of skirts and the the tinkle and clink of charms precede her into the entry way and kitchen. That faint smell of spice on her skin, the mustiness of feathers and road dust a sharp contrast to the fresh wet rained on smell of Soledad. Gina offers up a full cotton gypsy skirt and a long scarlet silk shirt. Narrow, but clearly a mans style. Her shoulders rise in an impressive bouncing sort of shrug, easy.* Reckon ets nae entirely fashionable, but et'll be warm until ah dry yer clothes fer ye. *She's an impossibly small and soft creature amogst the forest of far taller garou in her kitchen, sidling and sashaying , weaving past them until she's all but collapsed in her seat with a skid of wood on lino. She laughs and shakes her head.* Saerry there's nae mooch room darlins.

[Soledad Gutierrez]

Soledad regarded the extended hand for a moment before striding forward to meet it, long slim denim-cased legs carrying her away from the carpeted living room/entryway onto the linoleum of the kitchen. When she was near enough, and only just near enough, she put out a similarly long and lean arm to take her hand past Waco's, to grasp his wrist rather than the hand itself. She didn't shake it, but held it firmly while she looked him in the face through rain-slick hair that stuck against her cheeks and one particular tendril, shorter than the rest, what might have been part of her bangs several years ago before they grew out. "Muerte Frí­a. Cliath Uktena Ahroun." She released his hand when Gina came into the kitchen to hold clothes out to her, and accepted them with a downward glance at the bundle of white and red that had been set in her hands. She nodded to show her thanks, and without much other a word she turned to part from the kitchen, moving into Gina's bedroom without bothering to close the door but at least having the courtesy to tuck herself out of view behind the wall when she changed.

[Boy]

Boy leaned forward on his toes, then back again. His hands were still tucked in the back pockets of his jeans, and his eyes were pointed at the ground. "So..." He says, mildly uncomfortable. "How long you been in the city?"

[Waco Rogers]

Intro's taken care of, and Soledad off to change out of her damp attire, Waco takes a seat again, casting a smile in Gina's direction before replying to Boy's question. "I reckin near a month now." He does a little math in his head, his blue eyes squinting, then he nods. "Yeah 'bout that." His long fingered hand comes to rest against the hot ceramic of his coffee mug. Nostrils flaring at the heady aroma of the brew as he lifts it to take a long swallow. "Just long enough t'ave seen a wyldling in the park'n kill a few wyrmlings what was after it." He chuckles at that, and his lean shoulders roll in a slow shrug. "How 'bout y'all? Been here a spell have ya?"

[Waco Rogers]

to Boy, Gina McClaren, Soledad Gutierrez (sorry i'm slow guys, am a little groggy on flu meds)

[Boy]

"About..." He has to think on it for a while. "Since about June. Came here with my sisters and my..." Boy seems to stop himself, his brows furrow slightly and he looks up to Waco as if he might have said something silly and embarrassed himself. "I mean...with Bones to Dust. My packmate. And...she's pretty much my sister anyhow. Closest thing I got to family that's still alive."

[Gina McClaren]

*Gina's holding a small tea cup daintily, fingers smoothing over the gilded rim. She savors the ginger, dark eyes lifting to Waco. He had said he wanted to meet the other Uktena. An eclectic bunch, to be sure. And it seemed her and the Texan were more or less the most social folks here. She chuckles, offering the two men a warm grin. Boy mentions dead family members and her face grows soft. And that rminds her of something. She slaps the table with her palm.* OCH! Tha reminds me darlins.. while ah've ye three shapeshiften super-lupes aroudn.. would wan o ye be able tae set a lass's mind o ease an hop-skip entae yer Umbra round here? Ah had a rather agitated ghost visit the other necht, an while ah reckon she was harmless but fer a broke window, ah'd like tae make sure naethen.. nasty es lurkin aboot.. *She pauses, suddenly looking sheepish. Its not like she'd just asked for someone to move a washing machine or something as simple, perhaps this wasn't an appropriate request. She pinks coral and wets her lips nervously, dark eyes slipping from Waco to Boy, and over towards Sole getting changed.* ...Jes, effen wan o ye es up fer et? Mayhaps?

[Waco Rogers]

"I reckin I'd like t'meet yer sister someday." Waco has the type of personality that assures someone he will be the first to embarrass themselves, or to say something stupid. Gina chimes in, and Waco's attention spills in her direction. His pale blue eyes settling on her expressive features as she says something about ghost and the umbra. His brow furrows as he deciphers her accented words, and then he glances briefly at Boy before replying. "I reckin 'fore the nights through one'a us could step over darlin." The tall Texan returns his attention to Boy. "Y'all can bring yer packmates out fer a sweat sometime friend. Just let me know yer comin and I'll set some wood out fer ya."

[Boy]

His face softens slightly, and with his hands still in his back pockets, his shoulders do an odd job of shrugging. It wasn't a smile, but it was an obvious sign that maybe, just maybe, he was warming up to the man. "Thanks. I'd like that. Um...I think I get message to you. Where's your ranch anyway?"

[Gina McClaren]

Thank ye Waco. *And Gina falls silent, listening for awhile as she waits for soledad to emerge, finally laughing and singsonging in teasing good nature towards the door.* Ye tangled up Sole darlin? Ets a skirt, nae a spiderweb!

[Soledad Gutierrez]

"Ghosts are not the same as spirits, Gina," Soledad said from the doorway of the bedroom that she all but manifested in. She did that from time to time, snuck up, seemed to appear out of thin air. The full bottomed gypsy skirt that Soledad was wearing actually flattered her nicely, even if it would fall down were it not for the saving grace of elastic and ties about the waist. She'd slung it low under the mild swell of her stomach and discovered that this was the most comfortable route she'd seen in the past couple of weeks. She may just have to follow Gina's lead and take up wearing skirts over jeans a little more often. Truth be told she couldn't even button her pants anymore. The men's shirt fell loose on her shoulders and over her front and back, and her hair had been pushed out of her eyes, slicked down her back, still wet but no longer clinging to her face at least. She held the wet clothes bunched up in one hand and was leaning a shoulder against the doorway. "They reside in a different plane of the Umbra than what we can reach easily. We can't simply hop over and look around, we will find nothing. Their plane is deep, deep in a place where we shouldn't tread." Her head shook solemnly. "The land of the dead is not ours." From there she walked into the kitchen, and with her clothes still wadded up in one hand she worked to ease a piece of the aforementioned veggie pie out of the dish and onto a plate with a fork. The smell of food was making her drool, and she doubted it would matter if this was pie, raw beef or macaroni and cheese. She hadn't eaten in a day and a half and was nutrient starved.

[Waco Rogers]

"Bout 20 minutes drive west'a the city. Near out the border of Tekakwitha. It ain't much as far as a ranches go. No more'n a few acre, but it keeps a few'a my horses comf'table. Big'nuff fer my double wide and my new packmate, n'I reckin any other packmates that come along." He chuckles at the pleasant thought. "Gina here's met Julian. Half moon's well. Child'a Gaia. Fine fella." Soledad returns with a lecture on the levels of the umbral plains, and Waco weathers it with a passive smile. He watches her pad into the kitchen and help herself to some food, and as she does he glances back at Gina with a slight wink across the table. "I don't reckin there's any harm in takin a peek anyhow. If it sets her mind at ease."

[Boy]

Boy finally slides his hands out of his back pockets, and something else with it. At first its just a sound, a soft whispering clatter. But as he holds his hand out toward Soledad, he reveals something small enough to fit in his palm. Its a Rattle. The handle is a tiny thing, small enough for the grip of a bay, and with a larger loop at one end. At the other end was a round cylinder with what appeared to be delicate etchings on both flat panels. One was of a wolf, large and slightly menacing even in profile. The bottoms of its paws, muzzle, and body were stained slightly darker (as if it might have been wading through...something.) The other side held the silhouette of a woman, at least if the long hair was any indication. It was a slender woman, but with strong arms and legs that seemed to be in mid stride, only the figure obviously wasn't walking. It was leaning slightly on a spear. The wood of it seems to be just a facade, as whatever is in the cylinder rattles metalic as he presents it toward Soledad. "For you, Muerte Fria." Boy says, and his eyes stay on the rattle itself. Jaws set tight, waiting for some sort of reaction.

[Gina McClaren]

*The strider kin pushes up from the table, hair falling in a chestnut curtain over her shoulder as she meets Waco's wink with a mouthed "thank you" and an expression of soft appreciation. Her next words she speaks aloud as she's moving towards the pregnant ahroun, tea in hand.* Here Sole.. Trade me tea fer soakin clothes. Ah'll toss them en tha dryer aye? *Boy speaks, offers the woman a gorgeous rattle, and Gina wisely takes a step away, setting the tea on the counter rather than approaching to make the trade. Suddenly tense as she leans on the ugly olive stove.*

[Waco Rogers]

Waco watches this exchange, and the reaction to it in silence from where he sits. One hand resting on one denim clad knee, the other encircling his half empty coffee cup.

[Soledad Gutierrez]

Soledad's eyes turned to Waco when he winked at Gina and mentioned putting her mind at ease. The Warrior scoffed and glanced to Gina, nodding in agreement and trading off the rain-sopped clothes for a cup of tea. "Thank you," was spoken softly, distractedly, and she looked back to Waco and set her plate and cup down in front of an empty chair at the table, not quite bending yet to sit. "She doesn't need to be coddled. There will be nothing there, and now she knows this. The dead that do not rise are not within our realm to handle." Another nod was given to Gina. "If it returns, seek to appease it. Find what it wants and deliver it. It ought to go away on its own accord when its need is met." She was about to sit when Boy turned to her, palm outstretched and cradling what looked like wood and sounded like metal. She had very little experience with children, with any kind of cultural events or socializations that involved infants, so she didn't recognize what it was right off the bat. But it rattled, the air went tense, and she plucked the item out of Boy's hand to study the drawings of what she came to recognize as herself, as a wolf and as a woman. Her brow furrowed, and she turned the thing about with the slow, soft shuffling sound of the rattle-rice inside. Recognition clicked, her scowl deepened, and she looked up to Boy once more. For a second it was hard to tell if the taller girl was going to lunge forward. It was likely, that was nearly what had happened the last time the topic had been broached. Soledad inhaled slowly through her nostrils, exhaled through parted lips, then nodded and set the rattle down on the tabletop. "Thank you," she said for the second time tonight, and eased herself down into the chair she'd selected for herself. Were this not Gina's home the response may have been different. If the moon were not but a sliver in the sky it might have ended with bloodshed, claws, and broken drywall. Mercifully these two buffers seemed enough to keep Sol in line, though it couldn't stop the almost sharp-sounding words that followed the gratitude. "Though you realize the child will not stay to understand the meaning of the drawings."

[Boy]

"Sometimes..." He says with a quiet certainty. "Sometimes...sometimes anything might help. Even remembering something you never knew. Believe me." And at the same instant there came a sound from yet another pocket. A tweeting rather than a rattling. Boy pulled out the cell phone, staring at it curiously before flipping it open and holding it tentatively to his ear. "Hello?" He inquired calmly. "Calm down." His voice said a bit more sternly. "I'm on my way." He said with finality, and clasped the phone shut. "I'm sorry, all of you. I'm...being called away. An emergency at home." And he turns to Waco once again, nodding to him. "I look forward to seeing you again, White Man."

[Waco Rogers]

"Shoot, now I'm just plain curious." His chair legs scrape against the linoleum as he rises up out of his chair. His reaction not to the exchange between Soledad and Boy over the gift he'd offered her. That was none of his business. This reaction is in lue of Soledad's assurance that he would find nothing in the Umbra if he went searching. "I don't reckin it's called coddlin when ya do somethin fer someone who's been nothing but kind t'ya. Wether y'already know the outcome or not." There is no anger in his words, but rather a deeply ingrained sense of how you should treat people that gone disappointed one too many times since hitting the city. "I reckin there's been a kin'r two in the past what mistook a spirit fer a spook. And like I said... ain't nothin t'me t'check it out fer ya Gina. If it'd set yer mind at ease." He glances again at Soledad his thin lips pressed into a line, before he turns to Boy and nods. "Likewise friend. Y'all take care now."