shadow lords
Tommy McCann
Fri 08:25PM CST
"Miss," Tommy, gentleman that he is, offers a warm wet hand to help Arabella off the rickety gangplank.
Then it's off to see the wicked witch of the ... northish. Mm-mm-mm. Tommy tries hard to be a gentleman, 'cause their momma raised 'em right, but hell, he can't help the glance down. She's soakin' wet and her bra's showing. What do you expect of a red-blooded Indiana boy, anyway?
"I'd be more'n happy ta lend a hand myself," Tommy says, bringing up the rear of the little convoy. Cracking his big knuckles, he adds, "I know a l'il bit about healin'. Now what the dang-gumbit was you doin' out there ta get so chopped up?"
Arabella Eberstark
Fri 08:27PM CST
"Thank you Tommy." Something more of a genuien smile for the hand. She may not need help, but it was appreciated and she took few chances with the gangplank. She did not want to end up like Taiven afterall.
The slight blush for the state or... disarray and she tried not to stare, looking elsewhere some, and around for some reason this woman was hurt. was there something dangerous around...
Taiven Barrow
Fri 08:27PM CST
Slowly, dispassionately her eyes roll toward Lucian, and she peers at him for a long silent moment with strained steadiness. Liquid black eyes taking in his features, and the lines of his body like a stalker watching his next rape victim from the treeline. Hungry. Irrational hatred. Inky eyes slide over the gauze that he produces and her slender nostrils flare briefly.
"You think that little strip of cloth is going to close this up?"
Disdainful, her voice carries a stark sarcasm with it as she lifts her left arm, which seperates the wound beneath it. A gouge that spans her entire armpit gapes, open and liquid red. Spilling blood onto the wet sand at her feet.
Her gaze rakes across Lucian's features, and stabs into Tommy's. A white hot glint [rage] lighting the midnight eyes briefly as she lowers her arm slowly.
"Wrestling a Rokea."
Her tone is bland, and humorless... though of course... she must be joking.
Lucian Smith
Fri 08:29PM CST
"Ah... well, then it probably would not be enough to heal it entirely... but if you apply pressure to wound, it would slow the bleeding, perhaps keep you alive long enough to heal... at least, that's what I'd wager. If you'd rather I not... and would like to just bleed to death here... well, then I suppose I could leave you to that."
Billy McCann
Fri 08:30PM CST
Seated on the narrow deck of the houseboat: one Billy McCann. He's got on a worn old undershirt and a pair of old jeans on for clothin, but his feet are bare. Hair's about a tenth of an inch shy of needing cutting, which means its a tenth of an inch short of turning into fucking golden curls. Ain't there yet, though. An' Billy'll shave it all the fuck off afore it gits there.
Feet propped on the railing, which whinges ungraciously beneath his careless weight. Fingers picking over the fretboard of an old guitar turned about half upside down across his lap, bottle of beer in his left (chord-makin') hand.
Watchin'.
Tommy McCann
Fri 08:34PM CST
She must be joking. And Tommy laughs like she is, his scarred face briefly alight with humor. The same scar that draws up one half of his mouth into a permanent smirk pulls down the same eyelid; it gives him a look of sardonic amusement that doesn't fit his quiet, essentially kind nature.
Then the joke's over and he meets her gaze levelly. 6'4". Built like a blacksmith, all shoulders and chest and arms. Most people would think it was Taiven who was the brave one. Some spine in the little lady, after all.
"Com'ere." He flexes his interlaced fingers outwards like a pitcher warming up. "Yar first fix's fer free."
Taiven Barrow
Fri 08:36PM CST
"It wouldn't be the first time I'd nearly bled to death for mealstrom."
Not as guarded as she typically is with strangers [they -are- in the caern afterall] she shoots another glance toward Lucian and lifts her arm again with a curt and simple nod of acceptance. Gauze will have to do until someone with real healing abilities comes along.
Blood oozes freely from the wound staining her shirt from damp white to drenched red. Alluring and enticing in a raw and [sick] primal way. Her nipples beneath the harsh lace of her bra stand in painfully rigid points from the chill of the water. Like beacons to the eye, they dare the others to try -not- to stare.
The skirt, white and see through clings to her thighs as she cants her head to once side, and watches as thick, delicious drops of blood land on its blank surface. Weary, she looks slowly up again toward Tommy, and rather than step toward him, she simply turns.
Sleek and muscled beneath translucent olive skin, she barest he gaping wound toward him, like a fully blossomed rose after a rain. Crimson, and shining. Not velvety... but meaty.
Arabella Eberstark
Fri 08:36PM CST
Her laugh is half hearted, not entirely sure what a rokea is and fairly sure she didn't want to meet one if they did that. She stayed standing near Tommy for the time being, watching. The attitude of Taiven didn't exactly impress upon her the wish to make friends...
Billy McCann
Fri 08:41PM CST
"Hey - Miss Arabella," the second oldest McCann made his way to the narrow deck of the houseboat sometime 'tween when Tommy and Arabella done left, and set hisself down without nary a glance in their direction, enjoying his first drink of an evening, and thinkin' about trying for some fish even if they's probably diseased half through 'em. Iron-stomach could've been Billy's deedname, but it ain't. He's got a lazy drawl and a lazy, squint-eyed gaze, but it's pretty well locked on the pretty Silver Fang. "Why doncha c'mon back up here and leave that brother a'mine to his rescuin' of fair half-naked maidens."
Lucian Smith
Fri 08:41PM CST
He slips forward quickly and sets to wrapping the gauze around both her shoulders, across her chest, going a few times over and binding it down tightly, watching as the blood begins to seep into the new layers of fabric, a little less each time. When he is content with the wrap he nods and tapes it off. "Forgive me... if I had knowledge of more efficient healing, I would make use of it. I will make certain to learn it, at the earliest possible convenience."
As his immediate concern fades he relaxes slightly, taking note of her quite attractive form, tensing up straightly and blushing faintly as he steps back away quickly.
Arabella Eberstark
Fri 08:45PM CST
"Oh, Billy... hello." She was glad of the distraction from surly, bleeding wet woman and her would be rescuers, or at least healers. It wasn't the blood that bothered her, it was the tension in the other. Besides, Billy was nice to talk to. She looked back up at the boat where Billy was and with a glance to the other, proceeded to climb back aborad.
They didn't need her for this anyways. Gangplank navigated with some agility and she glanced around the deck at the top to find Billy again. "Look... I found your boat." Implying she knew where to find him now, with this discovery.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 08:48PM CST
Veiled eyes peer back at Lucian blandly as she nods. Ungreatful. Testing the bandaging job as she rolls her shoulders, causing the moist clinging tank top to slide wetly across her flesh. Her features, blank and beautiful, register no pain as she lifts a slender, birdlike hand to tug at one strap of her tank top.
She offers no words of thanks as her full [pornographic] lower lip catches between pristine white teeth. Harshly, to keep it from trembling as goose flesh stands out across her bare skin.
Tommy McCann
Fri 08:50PM CST
When Taiven turns, obviously meaning for him to go to her, Tommy laughs under his breath, closer to a scoff than a chuckle, and gives Arabella a what-can-ya-do sort of shrug.
Then he wades through the three inches or so of water at the lake's edge. A lake this big has waves that curl over his toes and drag him outward. At the edge of it, where the tide comes and goes, it's easy to lose your balance, get that sense of vertigo as water shifts out from under you and pulls sand with it.
"Shut up, Billy," he drawls without turning, 'cause, hell yeah, he's staring, and none too shy about it. In this case, at least. Poor Lucian's kinda bumped aside unceremoniously as soon as he's done wrapping her up. And it can't be standard theurge operations, when his blunt calloused fingertips trace the streaks of blood all the way from the small of her back up to the wound. His nostrils flare with the scent of her blood. "Yer Garou, ain'tcha," he says, without much needing an answer. And there's no question that he is. At her back, his presence tingles the way one predator's presence always does to another.
Firmly, he presses his palm against the fresh bandage, grabs her shoulder in his other hand to steady her, and pushes hard enough to strain the ribs. It hurts almost more than getting scratched up in the first place, but it's mercifully brief. His concentration is intense. His palm burns. Flesh mends. It closes up. A maddening itch comes and goes. What remains is a faint scratch, not quite perfectly healed.
"There," he says, a little out of breath. He shakes out his tingling hands and bends to splash cool lakewater over them.
There's a distinct look of one-upping as he grins at Lucian, toothily, shaking water off his hands as he straightens.
Lucian Smith
Fri 08:50PM CST
He frowns faintly and bites his lower lip, his heart catching as he watches her intently. "Miss... ah.. you should... ah... if you could... change your clothes, it isn't too cold at the moment, but hypothermia is still a real danger."
Lucian Smith
Fri 08:52PM CST
He sighs ever so faintly as he watches the crude fellow use his master of one of the few gifts readily available to him that he has yet to master and looks away quietly, frowning faintly.
Billy McCann
Fri 08:53PM CST
Calloused hands still over the fretboard, then pull a jangled chorus of relief from the strings as Arabella makes it aboard. Billy watches Arabella move the same way Tommy's watchin' Taiven, with a sharp-eyed, shark-eyed attention. 'Cept Billy's gaze is flatter and his smile ain't pulled into a sneer. It just never surfaces on his long face. Nothing like it. Holding both bottle and guitar in one hand, he leaves off the half-hearted picking and leans forward. Snags an old folding chair from where it leans akimbo against the peeling paint of the structure proper and snaps it open for her. "Ain't got no throne for ya, hopin' this'll do." He says with a gesture at the chair, which is a little too close to his own, really. "You know where I'm livin'. That mean what I think it means?" Expressionless, still, just the pale burn of his eyes boring into her like he could swallow her up with a look.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 08:58PM CST
The sound of pain that errupts from between her clenched teeth is more a growl than a hiss. If he needed an answer to his earlier remark [garou, ain'tcha] then that was answer enough.
Gutteral and predatory, the sound is stiffled as she clamps her full [blow job] lips together and casts a scathing glance over her shoulder toward the theurge. Liquid black eyes drink him in slowly. Taking advantage as they move over his scarred features, and the broad bulk of him. Teasingly, they slide over intimate curves, uninvited and cold.
"Your skill is appreciated."
Never thank you. Never submissive statements that ring of gratitude. Never warm and inviting.
"I'm Taiven, Sister of Shiva. Crescent moon of the Shadow Lords."
He likely wouldn't be flattered to know, that he is the first garou she has met without insisting their introduction before giving her own. One good turn, deserves another, and though Lucian's gauze was a kind gesture, and good deed... it was all in all, fairly useless to her.
Arabella Eberstark
Fri 08:59PM CST
She chuckles, curling into the chair carefully, smoothing her hands over jean clad thighs in absent sort of instinct. There were usually skirts there for her. "Mean what? I just meant I could find you without having to wait for my telephone to ring." She says it with an impish lilt. He set her mood on a better level, trying not to wonder at the gaze. Whether she was sitting too close or not seemed to fly right by her. There were degrees of things she just didn't grasp well... like how often men seemed to take an interest she just never saw.
It was about then, close and settling, that there's a slight, muffled ring. Electronic tones and she digs at her pocket to pull out the slim cellphone. Opening it she studied the number on ID and blinked. "Oh fudge... its later then I thought Billy. I have to go." Her smile apologetic as she stood back up so soon after sitting, and letting the call go to ehr voicemail for the moment. She'd call them when she was alone. "I'll stop by tomorrow maybe, if you're around..."
is that a promise or simply polite. She heads for the gangplank and right back down, making ehr way away from water's edge towards the fence she'd come in through.
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:01PM CST
He straightens back up, the sudden intrusion of proper etiquette hitting into his ears and pulling him from his momentary reverie. He bows his head deeply to Taiven, though he does keep his distance, and says, "I am Lucian, Speaks with Circuits, Theurge Cliath of the Glasswalkers."
Billy McCann
Fri 09:06PM CST
"You do that, Miss Arabella." Billy replies. He ain't gentleman enough on his own boat - or maybe in sight of his damn brother - to stand up and see her off. He just sets there and watches her walk, pale eyes narrowed and settled on the Silver Fang's hips. Which sway as she walks like she was wearin' skirts. He just sets there until she's gone. Fingers still dancing speculative-like over the strings, as his attention turns from the pretty little Fang girl to the brother and the Shadow Lord in the water.
Stand and deliver, man. Back of the mind. She's askin' fer it, if'n I read the way she done looked atcha right.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:06PM CST
Oil slick eyes, eyes that leave you feeling dirty [violated] slip toward Lucian again and she nods to him faintly. Theurge, met with a degree [however minor] of respect.
Then her midnight eyes are flowing back toward Tommy, a slender black brow hitched questioningly in his direction as she waits silently [impatiently] for an introduction in reply.
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:07PM CST
"Is it?" it's another rhetorical question. Her introduction is met with his smirk, which is to say it's met with nothing at all, because that smirk isn't by choice. Though, at her tribe's mention, he curses under his breath. His faded blue eyes looking out from under the low brim of his hat flicker over the Lucian, and then back. He stares for longer'n necessary.
"Tommy McCann," he says finally. His words are measured, even. He takes his time. "Fianna, same moon as all y'all. That there's my brother -- one of -- Billy McCann. We done come from Indiana just last week, we did. Ayup."
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:07PM CST
She's a danged Shadow Lord, Billy, Tommy grumps back, she'd sooner bite it off'n suck it.
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:11PM CST
He blinks faintly, the first two Garou he meets and they're both Theurges. He falls back into his silence though, simply listening quietly.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:11PM CST
Full [kissable] lips twitch as though a foul taste had suddenly blossomed on her tongue. Country bumpkins. How droll.
Her inky black stare shifts from Tommy, to Billy and then back again slowly. Measured and steady, her black gaze is ambitious [challenging] and stark, without being outright and in your face... barely.
"Mmmm..."
The murmur of sound [moan] is one of distraction as her head turns slowly, and she peers toward the water.
Adok Dragos
Fri 09:12PM CST
*Though the umbra a predator strolls. Feeling the familiar buzz in the back of his skull of one of his packmates being close he turns and heads towards the shore. Midnight black fur, stocky build in lupus, it all denoted the pure blood in the wolf that would be Lord.
Grandfather thunder had likewise chosen Adok to be his own. Little flickers of lightning flicker along his fur as he pauses near the shore. Concentrating on the real... peeking though the gauntlet.*
Billy McCann
Fri 09:14PM CST
They's a solution fer that, Tommy. The boat and the brother Tommy indicates: boat's just about fallin' over, looks more like a ramshackled collection of building materials than a houseboat, except it seems to be floating, tied up to the old dock. And Billy: tall, sunbrowned and blonde, cords of lean muscles coiled into a sullen sprawl. Short blonde hair. Near broken down old guitar that twangs out a discordant sound as the Shadow Lord looks over in his direction. Tips his head in her direction, long features dour and still. Give it to her where she ain't got no teeth, dumbass.
Billy smiles then, and it ain't no more'n a moment. Just a lazy-lidded, snake-eyed smile.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:16PM CST
Full lips curl at the corners into a faintly sardonic smile, as though in reaction to some unspoken, or unheard joke as she turns again to look toward the McCann theurge, and Lucian.
There is a glint to her gaze, hot and moist as her faint and pleasantly sinister smile is leveled upon Tommy once more.
One gets the impression that Taiven has teeth everywhere.
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:18PM CST
His gaze remains intent on Taiven, studying her for a moment, though his gaze does flicker over towards the McCann brothers, feeling some air of tension in the air and furrowing his brow.
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:19PM CST
Tommy grunts, though no one had spoken recently. Ducking down, he pulls his hammer up out of the water and shakes it off. He looks the Shadow Lord in the eye for a hard moment before his eyes inevitably slide down. Not much shame in that, neither. Nothing surreptitious 'bout it. Hell, one gets the feeling if she wasn't a Shadow Lord, and thus liable to turn him in for chewing the Litany up and spittin' it back out, he mighta made a pass at her already. Or a grab.
As is though, territory be dangerous. "Why don'tcha do as Lucian here says an' change yer wet clothin' fer dry, miss," he says, gruff, the mallet in his hand dropping so he grips it near the end of the shaft, turning to toss it haphazardly in the direction of the houseboat.
With a little luck, he won't put a hole in the hull.
Adok Dragos
Fri 09:20PM CST
A look of amusement flicker over the dark ebon eyes and the large wolf takes a step forward. Here in the caern the gauntlet is tissue paper thin. A slight motion and it parts. Rippeling around him in the real world. Amongst those gathered, out steps a wolf. And not a small one. Dark fur of obsidian black ripples along it's form as it exits the spirit world, The large anvil shaped head pivots from one to another, to another. The flinty ebon eyes take in their postions. Hea held high. Ears forward. This was a wolf born of a line of kings. Not fairy tale kings or Russian Czars but the hard bred, blooded nobility of the balkins. It's body compact and stocky in the way of the Shadow lords. Slowly one large paw takes another step forward and he scents the air. Ears flickering as he watches. Speaking over the innate link to his packmate.*
A bit on the scrawny side arn't they?
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:22PM CST
The wolf appearing apparently from nowhere draws Lucian's eye, but he does not blink or start, compared to Taiven's appear, Adok's is pedestrian. He bows his head politely to the wolf, though he remains unable to find voice for his words.
Morgan McCann
Fri 09:24PM CST
Thunk!
Inside the boathouse there is a quiet stirring. A low creak as a body shifts in its bed, rolls out, and hits the floor. It groans in annoyance, pulls itself from the ground, and emerges from the door a moment later, throwing it open hard enough that it clatters against the connecting wall with a clatter.
"What in the fuck is this shit about!"
"Some stupid motherfucka has a death wish, throwing shit, and waking decent folk up. Which one of you threw that? Which one of you assholes wants to get his ass walloped! Huh?"
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:25PM CST
Taiven lifts a hand which touches lightly the front of her soaked white shirt. Her gaze lowering to peer down at the slope of her chest [black lace beneath sheer white]. Slender shoulders rise slowly, and then fall.
As Adok steps out of the umbra, the dark beauty's gaze shifts toward him. Settling upon him, and taking in the slow ripple of light across black fur as she meets the wolf's flinty gaze and then lowers her own... briefly. Minutely.
She offers no reply to the suggestions of the men who surround her. They seem to be the only ones uncomfortable with her current garb.. which should it matter to her.
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:30PM CST
Awwww, jeers the totemline, poor widdle Morgie Porgie got woke up from his beauty rest. Tommy flashes an uncharacteristically toothy grin over his shoulder.
And then, turning back, the grin slips off like a mask. It don't seem to matter to him that Taiven's friend (alpha? superior, whatever it was. oh hell, to have her lower her eyes like that to him -- heh.) just popped outta the umbra. He glances down when she touches her shirt, and then lifts his eyebrows at her. Not that she can tell, with his hat brim riding so low.
"Well ain't you some sorta cocktease." This time the smirk's real. He nods in the direction of the houseboat, where Morgan was hollering. "You wanna make good on them bedroom eyes o' yours, you know where to find me."
Billy McCann
Fri 09:31PM CST
"That'd be Tommy." Billy replies, an indifferent look tossed in Morgan's general direction as the boy comes barreling outta bed like there was at least a half-dozen demons out for someone's blood. "Thank he was just tryin' to express his appreciation for that fine speciman straight outta the Carpediem Mountains issue a' Playboy." The beer bottle swings against the body of the instrument, dangles between two fingers as Billy hitches himself up a fraction straighter and sets down to concentrating on a complex series of fingerings done with the three free fingers he's got, and tips of the two around the neck of the beer bottle.
An I think you kin wait t'kick his danged ass until the fuckin' Shadow Lords is gone.
Adok Dragos
Fri 09:32PM CST
*If Adok noticed the PLASMA HOT, Hottie in the wet clothes as being such, no reconition show on his eyes. They are taking in those around, gawlking at her surpream Hotness. A flicker of an ear to Lucian who gave him a nod. The lupine equivilent maybe. Then bam bam bam, 3 that could only be brothers sharing a scent that foul.
When the last one comes busting out of the boat house making all that big noise his ears flicker back a bit in a rather frightening non-pulsed look. Wiskers aside the muzzel twitch and he waits.
At the announcment of Taiven being a cock tease his dark eyes flicker to Tommy and then over to Taiven. She's a big girl. Should she go for his cock he'd only get in the OTHERS way.*
Ryan McCann
Fri 09:32PM CST
Movement stirs from another part of the boat house. Loud noise drawing the attention of the eldest, rousing him up from the depths of his whiskey stupor.
Drunk again, Ryan? Ya fuckin' betcha he was...
Totemphone: What th'fuck ya whores doin' down there anyhow? Makin' more noise than a $10-dolla Chinese given a suck job.
Grumble. Grumble. Grumble. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. A dark silhouette moves through the boathouse until it hits the bottom level, staggering out onto the deck to peer out with blurred vision. Dark eyes narrow slightly, unkept brown hair tousled up as a dark shadow of stubble runs over the Eldest McCann's chiseled face.
The smell of whiskey imbedded into his clothes, but not a bottle in sight.
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:35PM CST
He ponders quietly for the moment, watching the Fianna back off, leaving him with apparently two Shadowlands. He then nods slowly, mostly to himself and addresses Adok, "Ah... I'm Lucian, Speaks with Circuits, Cliath Theurge of the Glasswalkers, new to this city... and hopefully to join the caern in due time."
Billy McCann
Fri 09:38PM CST
"Christ." Billy shoots a glance at Ryan as he comes stumbling outta the depths of the houseboat. Curses, but don't hardly move hisself up from where he's sprawled. Billy shoots Morgan a glance, then looks back at Ryan, then gives a shrug. Makin' eyes at the natives.
Billy pulls a long, mournful chord outta the guitar. Adjusts his fingers, lowering his pale eyes from some point near the horizon to some point considerably closer. "They's coffee in the galley." That's right: Billy said galley. Bout the only damn boat-word he knows.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:38PM CST
Aqualine features shadowed by the fading sun turn toward Tommy as he casts accusations toward her. Full lips that have ceased to tremble curl upward at the corners and her teeth, pristine white, glint from beyond their plump [orgasmic] mass.
"Some sort.. yeah."
Sultry and smooth, she eases the tip of her glaringly pink tongue over her upper lip, before looking away. Tasting his arousal, before turning toward her wolfen alpha.
The Fianna forgotten for the time being, she moves up the shoreline to a dryer position, her hands gripping the skirt and hiking it down over the smooth firmness of her behind. The thin floss of her black thong disappearing between rounded cheeks as she steps out of the damp skirt and twists it in her grip to wring the water from it.
Adok Dragos
Fri 09:40PM CST
*The massive furred head turns to Lucian and the ears take in the introduction. A raise of the head indicates he's heard. A look in those deep dark lightning flashed predators eyes shows he understands. So far the massive black wolf has made no move to converse. Then again much is said though body language in wolven forms. His is muted as well as he assesses the situation.
Slowly the eyes rotate back to Taiven and as she strips, one ear flickers. He watches and then watches the brothers, watch*
Morgan McCann
Fri 09:41PM CST
His eyes swung from each of his brother to the woman in the soaking wet white t-shirt, where they lingered for a length of time that wasn't decent by any stretch of the imagination. "The fuck is this?" he hollars back at his brother, his eyes narrow in Taiven as she pulls her skirt straight off. "I hope she ain't expecting me to stick a dollar bill in her nasty panties for that show," he grumbles under his breath, looking toward Ryan.
"Hey.. some Shadow Lord's given Billy a free show."
And with that said, the Irish blonde with iron red skin slinked off toward the galley (or whateverthefuck) to get some coffee.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:47PM CST
Once the skirt is wrung out, the last drops of water dripping from it to the ground at her feet, she steps smoothly back into it. Pulling the white garmet up over her hips again and snapping the elastic waist band into place.
A smile peels her lips back from her teeth as she glances over her shoulder toward the McCann's boat. Sinister... dark, as she nods as though in agreement before focusing on her wet clothing once more.
Her sleek arms cross in front of her, and she grips the hem of her wet tank top, hiking it slowly up and over her head. Black lace strapless bra... without the gauzey covering of wet cotton.
She gives the shirt a like treatment. Wringing it in her frail seeming hands, the water that pours from it a sickly pink hue from the blood that had mingled with the water.
Her back to the houseboat, she shakes the shirt out and glances toward Lucian briefly.
Ryan McCann
Fri 09:47PM CST
Totemphone: betta not be touchin'em natives... kick yar teeth in if'n I catch ya doin' it. Same goes for Tommy...
The eldest McCann snorts, exhaling whiskey-flavored breath out in a white cloud before his face. He pulls himself upright, squaring off at the shoulders, bare chested, and scarred. More like a patchwork of scars marks his entire torso and back. He ignores the thought of coffee, heading out of the boat towards his siblings and the Natives.
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:49PM CST
He has respectfully turned his gaze away, and has kept silent, perhaps lost in his thoughts as he is oft to do.
Adok Dragos
Fri 09:51PM CST
*Adok doesn't turn his gaze away. He's mainly watching the Fianna watch his packsister, but he's watching her too. He's no fag. He could appreciate the female form. Espcially one as deadly as hers.
Stirring into motion the wolf gracefully pads towards Taiven now. Slowly rolling into motion and slipping across the ground like a shadow. The onshore breeze rippeling his furr. Scenting the air again he passes though Lucians personal space on his way to his packmates side.*
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:52PM CST
Easily, almost submissively, he steps back from Adok's path, making sure to avoid any physical contact with the lupine Shadow Lord.
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:54PM CST
Seems the McCanns shared a similar disdain for shirts. Tommy makes up for his lack of one with his big battered ugly old straw hat, though, which he pulls off briefly to rumple his hand through his hair. Catching all the ogling going on, he looks back just in time to confirm the color of Taiven's thong.
"Nice," he comments, but thumps up the gangplank to the houseboat anyway.
Cresting the side of the ship, he hauls himself up and over in an impressive display of strength. Showing off? Maybe. Or maybe it's just his way. THUNK. His weight on the deck, and he squints at Morgan. "Aw, damn. I thought I 'least knocked out a tooth 'r two this time." He picks his hammer up again, tossing it to the stern of the ship where it crashes into a collection of glass bottles. Sacrifice for the spirits. Don't ask.
Sobering, then, "Ryan been a-dippin' into the bottle again?"
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:56PM CST
"I wouldn't."
Offer. The words are spoken aloud in reply to her packmates silent observations. Flicking the shirt once more, a few droplets of water spray from it, and then she is pulling it back on over her head. Raking paths through her damp black hair and turning toward the lupine figure who has joined her.
Morgan McCann
Fri 09:57PM CST
Morgan slowly emerges from galley, with a some coffee poured into whatever was conveniently laying around at the time. It so happened to be a plastic mug that he rinsed the soda out of just before pouring some coffee into. Black. No sugar. The kind of stuff that'll put hair on your chest.
Break something on the boat Imma break something on yer face he warns Tommy, lowly, before stepping over to the rail near Ryan.
Morgan McCann
Fri 09:57PM CST
Morgan slowly emerges from galley, with a some coffee poured into whatever was conveniently laying around at the time. It so happened to be a plastic mug that he rinsed the soda out of just before pouring some coffee into. Black. No sugar. The kind of stuff that'll put hair on your chest.
Break something on the boat Imma break something on yer face he warns Tommy, lowly, before stepping over to the rail near Ryan.
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:59PM CST
Cheerily enough, in his quietly amused way: Big talk. Little man. Passing Morgan, though, he gives his younger brother an affectionate scuff on the head.
"Where's Code?"
Ryan McCann
Fri 10:00PM CST
The eldest McCann looms over the younger Billy, tilting up his head to focus his attention on the object of the Brothers' attention. "Think I got a half-dollar in mah pocket. Probably all she's worth."
A snort, craning his head back to look at Tommy, "Ain't dipped anythin', brah, but I sometimes gotta wonder where ya wet ya dipstick at some nights, Tombo."
His head dips twice, acknowledging Morgan. Burly arms lift up to collapse across his scarred chest, a somber expression written across his face.
Lucian Smith
Fri 10:01PM CST
He furrows his brow and glances around again, noticing everyone grouping together in accordance to their tribe, and leaving him off on his own. He frowns faintly, before shaking his head softly, and turning slowly, heading on off towards the bawn.
Billy McCann
Fri 10:01PM CST
Billy rouses himself out of the throes of near-creation to offer this comment to Tommy. "Ain't dippin. More like swimmin' in it." Shrugs, taps his foot, and returns to the fretboard. The steel guitar strings hum and whine everdamntime he moves his hands. Losing himself in the act of composing and whatnot.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 10:03PM CST
If anything... their sheer number is impressive. Wether they are all full blooded or not... there is strength in numbers.
Stepping away from the damp spot of sand she wrung her shirt, and skirt out on, she sits and peers out toward the horizon. Watching the spot where the faded blood red sun meets the water. Stark beauty. Her sleek muscled arms lift to hug the curve of her knees as she pulls them in toward her chest. An almost innocent stance, as a breeze begins to dry her soaked ebon hair.
"Hillbillies."
She murmurs faintly to her wolfen packmate, as she glances toward the houseboat dwelling quartet with an inward shudder of displeasure.
"Fianna hillbillies."
Fri 08:25PM CST
"Miss," Tommy, gentleman that he is, offers a warm wet hand to help Arabella off the rickety gangplank.
Then it's off to see the wicked witch of the ... northish. Mm-mm-mm. Tommy tries hard to be a gentleman, 'cause their momma raised 'em right, but hell, he can't help the glance down. She's soakin' wet and her bra's showing. What do you expect of a red-blooded Indiana boy, anyway?
"I'd be more'n happy ta lend a hand myself," Tommy says, bringing up the rear of the little convoy. Cracking his big knuckles, he adds, "I know a l'il bit about healin'. Now what the dang-gumbit was you doin' out there ta get so chopped up?"
Arabella Eberstark
Fri 08:27PM CST
"Thank you Tommy." Something more of a genuien smile for the hand. She may not need help, but it was appreciated and she took few chances with the gangplank. She did not want to end up like Taiven afterall.
The slight blush for the state or... disarray and she tried not to stare, looking elsewhere some, and around for some reason this woman was hurt. was there something dangerous around...
Taiven Barrow
Fri 08:27PM CST
Slowly, dispassionately her eyes roll toward Lucian, and she peers at him for a long silent moment with strained steadiness. Liquid black eyes taking in his features, and the lines of his body like a stalker watching his next rape victim from the treeline. Hungry. Irrational hatred. Inky eyes slide over the gauze that he produces and her slender nostrils flare briefly.
"You think that little strip of cloth is going to close this up?"
Disdainful, her voice carries a stark sarcasm with it as she lifts her left arm, which seperates the wound beneath it. A gouge that spans her entire armpit gapes, open and liquid red. Spilling blood onto the wet sand at her feet.
Her gaze rakes across Lucian's features, and stabs into Tommy's. A white hot glint [rage] lighting the midnight eyes briefly as she lowers her arm slowly.
"Wrestling a Rokea."
Her tone is bland, and humorless... though of course... she must be joking.
Lucian Smith
Fri 08:29PM CST
"Ah... well, then it probably would not be enough to heal it entirely... but if you apply pressure to wound, it would slow the bleeding, perhaps keep you alive long enough to heal... at least, that's what I'd wager. If you'd rather I not... and would like to just bleed to death here... well, then I suppose I could leave you to that."
Billy McCann
Fri 08:30PM CST
Seated on the narrow deck of the houseboat: one Billy McCann. He's got on a worn old undershirt and a pair of old jeans on for clothin, but his feet are bare. Hair's about a tenth of an inch shy of needing cutting, which means its a tenth of an inch short of turning into fucking golden curls. Ain't there yet, though. An' Billy'll shave it all the fuck off afore it gits there.
Feet propped on the railing, which whinges ungraciously beneath his careless weight. Fingers picking over the fretboard of an old guitar turned about half upside down across his lap, bottle of beer in his left (chord-makin') hand.
Watchin'.
Tommy McCann
Fri 08:34PM CST
She must be joking. And Tommy laughs like she is, his scarred face briefly alight with humor. The same scar that draws up one half of his mouth into a permanent smirk pulls down the same eyelid; it gives him a look of sardonic amusement that doesn't fit his quiet, essentially kind nature.
Then the joke's over and he meets her gaze levelly. 6'4". Built like a blacksmith, all shoulders and chest and arms. Most people would think it was Taiven who was the brave one. Some spine in the little lady, after all.
"Com'ere." He flexes his interlaced fingers outwards like a pitcher warming up. "Yar first fix's fer free."
Taiven Barrow
Fri 08:36PM CST
"It wouldn't be the first time I'd nearly bled to death for mealstrom."
Not as guarded as she typically is with strangers [they -are- in the caern afterall] she shoots another glance toward Lucian and lifts her arm again with a curt and simple nod of acceptance. Gauze will have to do until someone with real healing abilities comes along.
Blood oozes freely from the wound staining her shirt from damp white to drenched red. Alluring and enticing in a raw and [sick] primal way. Her nipples beneath the harsh lace of her bra stand in painfully rigid points from the chill of the water. Like beacons to the eye, they dare the others to try -not- to stare.
The skirt, white and see through clings to her thighs as she cants her head to once side, and watches as thick, delicious drops of blood land on its blank surface. Weary, she looks slowly up again toward Tommy, and rather than step toward him, she simply turns.
Sleek and muscled beneath translucent olive skin, she barest he gaping wound toward him, like a fully blossomed rose after a rain. Crimson, and shining. Not velvety... but meaty.
Arabella Eberstark
Fri 08:36PM CST
Her laugh is half hearted, not entirely sure what a rokea is and fairly sure she didn't want to meet one if they did that. She stayed standing near Tommy for the time being, watching. The attitude of Taiven didn't exactly impress upon her the wish to make friends...
Billy McCann
Fri 08:41PM CST
"Hey - Miss Arabella," the second oldest McCann made his way to the narrow deck of the houseboat sometime 'tween when Tommy and Arabella done left, and set hisself down without nary a glance in their direction, enjoying his first drink of an evening, and thinkin' about trying for some fish even if they's probably diseased half through 'em. Iron-stomach could've been Billy's deedname, but it ain't. He's got a lazy drawl and a lazy, squint-eyed gaze, but it's pretty well locked on the pretty Silver Fang. "Why doncha c'mon back up here and leave that brother a'mine to his rescuin' of fair half-naked maidens."
Lucian Smith
Fri 08:41PM CST
He slips forward quickly and sets to wrapping the gauze around both her shoulders, across her chest, going a few times over and binding it down tightly, watching as the blood begins to seep into the new layers of fabric, a little less each time. When he is content with the wrap he nods and tapes it off. "Forgive me... if I had knowledge of more efficient healing, I would make use of it. I will make certain to learn it, at the earliest possible convenience."
As his immediate concern fades he relaxes slightly, taking note of her quite attractive form, tensing up straightly and blushing faintly as he steps back away quickly.
Arabella Eberstark
Fri 08:45PM CST
"Oh, Billy... hello." She was glad of the distraction from surly, bleeding wet woman and her would be rescuers, or at least healers. It wasn't the blood that bothered her, it was the tension in the other. Besides, Billy was nice to talk to. She looked back up at the boat where Billy was and with a glance to the other, proceeded to climb back aborad.
They didn't need her for this anyways. Gangplank navigated with some agility and she glanced around the deck at the top to find Billy again. "Look... I found your boat." Implying she knew where to find him now, with this discovery.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 08:48PM CST
Veiled eyes peer back at Lucian blandly as she nods. Ungreatful. Testing the bandaging job as she rolls her shoulders, causing the moist clinging tank top to slide wetly across her flesh. Her features, blank and beautiful, register no pain as she lifts a slender, birdlike hand to tug at one strap of her tank top.
She offers no words of thanks as her full [pornographic] lower lip catches between pristine white teeth. Harshly, to keep it from trembling as goose flesh stands out across her bare skin.
Tommy McCann
Fri 08:50PM CST
When Taiven turns, obviously meaning for him to go to her, Tommy laughs under his breath, closer to a scoff than a chuckle, and gives Arabella a what-can-ya-do sort of shrug.
Then he wades through the three inches or so of water at the lake's edge. A lake this big has waves that curl over his toes and drag him outward. At the edge of it, where the tide comes and goes, it's easy to lose your balance, get that sense of vertigo as water shifts out from under you and pulls sand with it.
"Shut up, Billy," he drawls without turning, 'cause, hell yeah, he's staring, and none too shy about it. In this case, at least. Poor Lucian's kinda bumped aside unceremoniously as soon as he's done wrapping her up. And it can't be standard theurge operations, when his blunt calloused fingertips trace the streaks of blood all the way from the small of her back up to the wound. His nostrils flare with the scent of her blood. "Yer Garou, ain'tcha," he says, without much needing an answer. And there's no question that he is. At her back, his presence tingles the way one predator's presence always does to another.
Firmly, he presses his palm against the fresh bandage, grabs her shoulder in his other hand to steady her, and pushes hard enough to strain the ribs. It hurts almost more than getting scratched up in the first place, but it's mercifully brief. His concentration is intense. His palm burns. Flesh mends. It closes up. A maddening itch comes and goes. What remains is a faint scratch, not quite perfectly healed.
"There," he says, a little out of breath. He shakes out his tingling hands and bends to splash cool lakewater over them.
There's a distinct look of one-upping as he grins at Lucian, toothily, shaking water off his hands as he straightens.
Lucian Smith
Fri 08:50PM CST
He frowns faintly and bites his lower lip, his heart catching as he watches her intently. "Miss... ah.. you should... ah... if you could... change your clothes, it isn't too cold at the moment, but hypothermia is still a real danger."
Lucian Smith
Fri 08:52PM CST
He sighs ever so faintly as he watches the crude fellow use his master of one of the few gifts readily available to him that he has yet to master and looks away quietly, frowning faintly.
Billy McCann
Fri 08:53PM CST
Calloused hands still over the fretboard, then pull a jangled chorus of relief from the strings as Arabella makes it aboard. Billy watches Arabella move the same way Tommy's watchin' Taiven, with a sharp-eyed, shark-eyed attention. 'Cept Billy's gaze is flatter and his smile ain't pulled into a sneer. It just never surfaces on his long face. Nothing like it. Holding both bottle and guitar in one hand, he leaves off the half-hearted picking and leans forward. Snags an old folding chair from where it leans akimbo against the peeling paint of the structure proper and snaps it open for her. "Ain't got no throne for ya, hopin' this'll do." He says with a gesture at the chair, which is a little too close to his own, really. "You know where I'm livin'. That mean what I think it means?" Expressionless, still, just the pale burn of his eyes boring into her like he could swallow her up with a look.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 08:58PM CST
The sound of pain that errupts from between her clenched teeth is more a growl than a hiss. If he needed an answer to his earlier remark [garou, ain'tcha] then that was answer enough.
Gutteral and predatory, the sound is stiffled as she clamps her full [blow job] lips together and casts a scathing glance over her shoulder toward the theurge. Liquid black eyes drink him in slowly. Taking advantage as they move over his scarred features, and the broad bulk of him. Teasingly, they slide over intimate curves, uninvited and cold.
"Your skill is appreciated."
Never thank you. Never submissive statements that ring of gratitude. Never warm and inviting.
"I'm Taiven, Sister of Shiva. Crescent moon of the Shadow Lords."
He likely wouldn't be flattered to know, that he is the first garou she has met without insisting their introduction before giving her own. One good turn, deserves another, and though Lucian's gauze was a kind gesture, and good deed... it was all in all, fairly useless to her.
Arabella Eberstark
Fri 08:59PM CST
She chuckles, curling into the chair carefully, smoothing her hands over jean clad thighs in absent sort of instinct. There were usually skirts there for her. "Mean what? I just meant I could find you without having to wait for my telephone to ring." She says it with an impish lilt. He set her mood on a better level, trying not to wonder at the gaze. Whether she was sitting too close or not seemed to fly right by her. There were degrees of things she just didn't grasp well... like how often men seemed to take an interest she just never saw.
It was about then, close and settling, that there's a slight, muffled ring. Electronic tones and she digs at her pocket to pull out the slim cellphone. Opening it she studied the number on ID and blinked. "Oh fudge... its later then I thought Billy. I have to go." Her smile apologetic as she stood back up so soon after sitting, and letting the call go to ehr voicemail for the moment. She'd call them when she was alone. "I'll stop by tomorrow maybe, if you're around..."
is that a promise or simply polite. She heads for the gangplank and right back down, making ehr way away from water's edge towards the fence she'd come in through.
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:01PM CST
He straightens back up, the sudden intrusion of proper etiquette hitting into his ears and pulling him from his momentary reverie. He bows his head deeply to Taiven, though he does keep his distance, and says, "I am Lucian, Speaks with Circuits, Theurge Cliath of the Glasswalkers."
Billy McCann
Fri 09:06PM CST
"You do that, Miss Arabella." Billy replies. He ain't gentleman enough on his own boat - or maybe in sight of his damn brother - to stand up and see her off. He just sets there and watches her walk, pale eyes narrowed and settled on the Silver Fang's hips. Which sway as she walks like she was wearin' skirts. He just sets there until she's gone. Fingers still dancing speculative-like over the strings, as his attention turns from the pretty little Fang girl to the brother and the Shadow Lord in the water.
Stand and deliver, man. Back of the mind. She's askin' fer it, if'n I read the way she done looked atcha right.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:06PM CST
Oil slick eyes, eyes that leave you feeling dirty [violated] slip toward Lucian again and she nods to him faintly. Theurge, met with a degree [however minor] of respect.
Then her midnight eyes are flowing back toward Tommy, a slender black brow hitched questioningly in his direction as she waits silently [impatiently] for an introduction in reply.
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:07PM CST
"Is it?" it's another rhetorical question. Her introduction is met with his smirk, which is to say it's met with nothing at all, because that smirk isn't by choice. Though, at her tribe's mention, he curses under his breath. His faded blue eyes looking out from under the low brim of his hat flicker over the Lucian, and then back. He stares for longer'n necessary.
"Tommy McCann," he says finally. His words are measured, even. He takes his time. "Fianna, same moon as all y'all. That there's my brother -- one of -- Billy McCann. We done come from Indiana just last week, we did. Ayup."
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:07PM CST
She's a danged Shadow Lord, Billy, Tommy grumps back, she'd sooner bite it off'n suck it.
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:11PM CST
He blinks faintly, the first two Garou he meets and they're both Theurges. He falls back into his silence though, simply listening quietly.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:11PM CST
Full [kissable] lips twitch as though a foul taste had suddenly blossomed on her tongue. Country bumpkins. How droll.
Her inky black stare shifts from Tommy, to Billy and then back again slowly. Measured and steady, her black gaze is ambitious [challenging] and stark, without being outright and in your face... barely.
"Mmmm..."
The murmur of sound [moan] is one of distraction as her head turns slowly, and she peers toward the water.
Adok Dragos
Fri 09:12PM CST
*Though the umbra a predator strolls. Feeling the familiar buzz in the back of his skull of one of his packmates being close he turns and heads towards the shore. Midnight black fur, stocky build in lupus, it all denoted the pure blood in the wolf that would be Lord.
Grandfather thunder had likewise chosen Adok to be his own. Little flickers of lightning flicker along his fur as he pauses near the shore. Concentrating on the real... peeking though the gauntlet.*
Billy McCann
Fri 09:14PM CST
They's a solution fer that, Tommy. The boat and the brother Tommy indicates: boat's just about fallin' over, looks more like a ramshackled collection of building materials than a houseboat, except it seems to be floating, tied up to the old dock. And Billy: tall, sunbrowned and blonde, cords of lean muscles coiled into a sullen sprawl. Short blonde hair. Near broken down old guitar that twangs out a discordant sound as the Shadow Lord looks over in his direction. Tips his head in her direction, long features dour and still. Give it to her where she ain't got no teeth, dumbass.
Billy smiles then, and it ain't no more'n a moment. Just a lazy-lidded, snake-eyed smile.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:16PM CST
Full lips curl at the corners into a faintly sardonic smile, as though in reaction to some unspoken, or unheard joke as she turns again to look toward the McCann theurge, and Lucian.
There is a glint to her gaze, hot and moist as her faint and pleasantly sinister smile is leveled upon Tommy once more.
One gets the impression that Taiven has teeth everywhere.
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:18PM CST
His gaze remains intent on Taiven, studying her for a moment, though his gaze does flicker over towards the McCann brothers, feeling some air of tension in the air and furrowing his brow.
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:19PM CST
Tommy grunts, though no one had spoken recently. Ducking down, he pulls his hammer up out of the water and shakes it off. He looks the Shadow Lord in the eye for a hard moment before his eyes inevitably slide down. Not much shame in that, neither. Nothing surreptitious 'bout it. Hell, one gets the feeling if she wasn't a Shadow Lord, and thus liable to turn him in for chewing the Litany up and spittin' it back out, he mighta made a pass at her already. Or a grab.
As is though, territory be dangerous. "Why don'tcha do as Lucian here says an' change yer wet clothin' fer dry, miss," he says, gruff, the mallet in his hand dropping so he grips it near the end of the shaft, turning to toss it haphazardly in the direction of the houseboat.
With a little luck, he won't put a hole in the hull.
Adok Dragos
Fri 09:20PM CST
A look of amusement flicker over the dark ebon eyes and the large wolf takes a step forward. Here in the caern the gauntlet is tissue paper thin. A slight motion and it parts. Rippeling around him in the real world. Amongst those gathered, out steps a wolf. And not a small one. Dark fur of obsidian black ripples along it's form as it exits the spirit world, The large anvil shaped head pivots from one to another, to another. The flinty ebon eyes take in their postions. Hea held high. Ears forward. This was a wolf born of a line of kings. Not fairy tale kings or Russian Czars but the hard bred, blooded nobility of the balkins. It's body compact and stocky in the way of the Shadow lords. Slowly one large paw takes another step forward and he scents the air. Ears flickering as he watches. Speaking over the innate link to his packmate.*
A bit on the scrawny side arn't they?
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:22PM CST
The wolf appearing apparently from nowhere draws Lucian's eye, but he does not blink or start, compared to Taiven's appear, Adok's is pedestrian. He bows his head politely to the wolf, though he remains unable to find voice for his words.
Morgan McCann
Fri 09:24PM CST
Thunk!
Inside the boathouse there is a quiet stirring. A low creak as a body shifts in its bed, rolls out, and hits the floor. It groans in annoyance, pulls itself from the ground, and emerges from the door a moment later, throwing it open hard enough that it clatters against the connecting wall with a clatter.
"What in the fuck is this shit about!"
"Some stupid motherfucka has a death wish, throwing shit, and waking decent folk up. Which one of you threw that? Which one of you assholes wants to get his ass walloped! Huh?"
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:25PM CST
Taiven lifts a hand which touches lightly the front of her soaked white shirt. Her gaze lowering to peer down at the slope of her chest [black lace beneath sheer white]. Slender shoulders rise slowly, and then fall.
As Adok steps out of the umbra, the dark beauty's gaze shifts toward him. Settling upon him, and taking in the slow ripple of light across black fur as she meets the wolf's flinty gaze and then lowers her own... briefly. Minutely.
She offers no reply to the suggestions of the men who surround her. They seem to be the only ones uncomfortable with her current garb.. which should it matter to her.
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:30PM CST
Awwww, jeers the totemline, poor widdle Morgie Porgie got woke up from his beauty rest. Tommy flashes an uncharacteristically toothy grin over his shoulder.
And then, turning back, the grin slips off like a mask. It don't seem to matter to him that Taiven's friend (alpha? superior, whatever it was. oh hell, to have her lower her eyes like that to him -- heh.) just popped outta the umbra. He glances down when she touches her shirt, and then lifts his eyebrows at her. Not that she can tell, with his hat brim riding so low.
"Well ain't you some sorta cocktease." This time the smirk's real. He nods in the direction of the houseboat, where Morgan was hollering. "You wanna make good on them bedroom eyes o' yours, you know where to find me."
Billy McCann
Fri 09:31PM CST
"That'd be Tommy." Billy replies, an indifferent look tossed in Morgan's general direction as the boy comes barreling outta bed like there was at least a half-dozen demons out for someone's blood. "Thank he was just tryin' to express his appreciation for that fine speciman straight outta the Carpediem Mountains issue a' Playboy." The beer bottle swings against the body of the instrument, dangles between two fingers as Billy hitches himself up a fraction straighter and sets down to concentrating on a complex series of fingerings done with the three free fingers he's got, and tips of the two around the neck of the beer bottle.
An I think you kin wait t'kick his danged ass until the fuckin' Shadow Lords is gone.
Adok Dragos
Fri 09:32PM CST
*If Adok noticed the PLASMA HOT, Hottie in the wet clothes as being such, no reconition show on his eyes. They are taking in those around, gawlking at her surpream Hotness. A flicker of an ear to Lucian who gave him a nod. The lupine equivilent maybe. Then bam bam bam, 3 that could only be brothers sharing a scent that foul.
When the last one comes busting out of the boat house making all that big noise his ears flicker back a bit in a rather frightening non-pulsed look. Wiskers aside the muzzel twitch and he waits.
At the announcment of Taiven being a cock tease his dark eyes flicker to Tommy and then over to Taiven. She's a big girl. Should she go for his cock he'd only get in the OTHERS way.*
Ryan McCann
Fri 09:32PM CST
Movement stirs from another part of the boat house. Loud noise drawing the attention of the eldest, rousing him up from the depths of his whiskey stupor.
Drunk again, Ryan? Ya fuckin' betcha he was...
Totemphone: What th'fuck ya whores doin' down there anyhow? Makin' more noise than a $10-dolla Chinese given a suck job.
Grumble. Grumble. Grumble. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. A dark silhouette moves through the boathouse until it hits the bottom level, staggering out onto the deck to peer out with blurred vision. Dark eyes narrow slightly, unkept brown hair tousled up as a dark shadow of stubble runs over the Eldest McCann's chiseled face.
The smell of whiskey imbedded into his clothes, but not a bottle in sight.
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:35PM CST
He ponders quietly for the moment, watching the Fianna back off, leaving him with apparently two Shadowlands. He then nods slowly, mostly to himself and addresses Adok, "Ah... I'm Lucian, Speaks with Circuits, Cliath Theurge of the Glasswalkers, new to this city... and hopefully to join the caern in due time."
Billy McCann
Fri 09:38PM CST
"Christ." Billy shoots a glance at Ryan as he comes stumbling outta the depths of the houseboat. Curses, but don't hardly move hisself up from where he's sprawled. Billy shoots Morgan a glance, then looks back at Ryan, then gives a shrug. Makin' eyes at the natives.
Billy pulls a long, mournful chord outta the guitar. Adjusts his fingers, lowering his pale eyes from some point near the horizon to some point considerably closer. "They's coffee in the galley." That's right: Billy said galley. Bout the only damn boat-word he knows.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:38PM CST
Aqualine features shadowed by the fading sun turn toward Tommy as he casts accusations toward her. Full lips that have ceased to tremble curl upward at the corners and her teeth, pristine white, glint from beyond their plump [orgasmic] mass.
"Some sort.. yeah."
Sultry and smooth, she eases the tip of her glaringly pink tongue over her upper lip, before looking away. Tasting his arousal, before turning toward her wolfen alpha.
The Fianna forgotten for the time being, she moves up the shoreline to a dryer position, her hands gripping the skirt and hiking it down over the smooth firmness of her behind. The thin floss of her black thong disappearing between rounded cheeks as she steps out of the damp skirt and twists it in her grip to wring the water from it.
Adok Dragos
Fri 09:40PM CST
*The massive furred head turns to Lucian and the ears take in the introduction. A raise of the head indicates he's heard. A look in those deep dark lightning flashed predators eyes shows he understands. So far the massive black wolf has made no move to converse. Then again much is said though body language in wolven forms. His is muted as well as he assesses the situation.
Slowly the eyes rotate back to Taiven and as she strips, one ear flickers. He watches and then watches the brothers, watch*
Morgan McCann
Fri 09:41PM CST
His eyes swung from each of his brother to the woman in the soaking wet white t-shirt, where they lingered for a length of time that wasn't decent by any stretch of the imagination. "The fuck is this?" he hollars back at his brother, his eyes narrow in Taiven as she pulls her skirt straight off. "I hope she ain't expecting me to stick a dollar bill in her nasty panties for that show," he grumbles under his breath, looking toward Ryan.
"Hey.. some Shadow Lord's given Billy a free show."
And with that said, the Irish blonde with iron red skin slinked off toward the galley (or whateverthefuck) to get some coffee.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:47PM CST
Once the skirt is wrung out, the last drops of water dripping from it to the ground at her feet, she steps smoothly back into it. Pulling the white garmet up over her hips again and snapping the elastic waist band into place.
A smile peels her lips back from her teeth as she glances over her shoulder toward the McCann's boat. Sinister... dark, as she nods as though in agreement before focusing on her wet clothing once more.
Her sleek arms cross in front of her, and she grips the hem of her wet tank top, hiking it slowly up and over her head. Black lace strapless bra... without the gauzey covering of wet cotton.
She gives the shirt a like treatment. Wringing it in her frail seeming hands, the water that pours from it a sickly pink hue from the blood that had mingled with the water.
Her back to the houseboat, she shakes the shirt out and glances toward Lucian briefly.
Ryan McCann
Fri 09:47PM CST
Totemphone: betta not be touchin'em natives... kick yar teeth in if'n I catch ya doin' it. Same goes for Tommy...
The eldest McCann snorts, exhaling whiskey-flavored breath out in a white cloud before his face. He pulls himself upright, squaring off at the shoulders, bare chested, and scarred. More like a patchwork of scars marks his entire torso and back. He ignores the thought of coffee, heading out of the boat towards his siblings and the Natives.
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:49PM CST
He has respectfully turned his gaze away, and has kept silent, perhaps lost in his thoughts as he is oft to do.
Adok Dragos
Fri 09:51PM CST
*Adok doesn't turn his gaze away. He's mainly watching the Fianna watch his packsister, but he's watching her too. He's no fag. He could appreciate the female form. Espcially one as deadly as hers.
Stirring into motion the wolf gracefully pads towards Taiven now. Slowly rolling into motion and slipping across the ground like a shadow. The onshore breeze rippeling his furr. Scenting the air again he passes though Lucians personal space on his way to his packmates side.*
Lucian Smith
Fri 09:52PM CST
Easily, almost submissively, he steps back from Adok's path, making sure to avoid any physical contact with the lupine Shadow Lord.
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:54PM CST
Seems the McCanns shared a similar disdain for shirts. Tommy makes up for his lack of one with his big battered ugly old straw hat, though, which he pulls off briefly to rumple his hand through his hair. Catching all the ogling going on, he looks back just in time to confirm the color of Taiven's thong.
"Nice," he comments, but thumps up the gangplank to the houseboat anyway.
Cresting the side of the ship, he hauls himself up and over in an impressive display of strength. Showing off? Maybe. Or maybe it's just his way. THUNK. His weight on the deck, and he squints at Morgan. "Aw, damn. I thought I 'least knocked out a tooth 'r two this time." He picks his hammer up again, tossing it to the stern of the ship where it crashes into a collection of glass bottles. Sacrifice for the spirits. Don't ask.
Sobering, then, "Ryan been a-dippin' into the bottle again?"
Taiven Barrow
Fri 09:56PM CST
"I wouldn't."
Offer. The words are spoken aloud in reply to her packmates silent observations. Flicking the shirt once more, a few droplets of water spray from it, and then she is pulling it back on over her head. Raking paths through her damp black hair and turning toward the lupine figure who has joined her.
Morgan McCann
Fri 09:57PM CST
Morgan slowly emerges from galley, with a some coffee poured into whatever was conveniently laying around at the time. It so happened to be a plastic mug that he rinsed the soda out of just before pouring some coffee into. Black. No sugar. The kind of stuff that'll put hair on your chest.
Break something on the boat Imma break something on yer face he warns Tommy, lowly, before stepping over to the rail near Ryan.
Morgan McCann
Fri 09:57PM CST
Morgan slowly emerges from galley, with a some coffee poured into whatever was conveniently laying around at the time. It so happened to be a plastic mug that he rinsed the soda out of just before pouring some coffee into. Black. No sugar. The kind of stuff that'll put hair on your chest.
Break something on the boat Imma break something on yer face he warns Tommy, lowly, before stepping over to the rail near Ryan.
Tommy McCann
Fri 09:59PM CST
Cheerily enough, in his quietly amused way: Big talk. Little man. Passing Morgan, though, he gives his younger brother an affectionate scuff on the head.
"Where's Code?"
Ryan McCann
Fri 10:00PM CST
The eldest McCann looms over the younger Billy, tilting up his head to focus his attention on the object of the Brothers' attention. "Think I got a half-dollar in mah pocket. Probably all she's worth."
A snort, craning his head back to look at Tommy, "Ain't dipped anythin', brah, but I sometimes gotta wonder where ya wet ya dipstick at some nights, Tombo."
His head dips twice, acknowledging Morgan. Burly arms lift up to collapse across his scarred chest, a somber expression written across his face.
Lucian Smith
Fri 10:01PM CST
He furrows his brow and glances around again, noticing everyone grouping together in accordance to their tribe, and leaving him off on his own. He frowns faintly, before shaking his head softly, and turning slowly, heading on off towards the bawn.
Billy McCann
Fri 10:01PM CST
Billy rouses himself out of the throes of near-creation to offer this comment to Tommy. "Ain't dippin. More like swimmin' in it." Shrugs, taps his foot, and returns to the fretboard. The steel guitar strings hum and whine everdamntime he moves his hands. Losing himself in the act of composing and whatnot.
Taiven Barrow
Fri 10:03PM CST
If anything... their sheer number is impressive. Wether they are all full blooded or not... there is strength in numbers.
Stepping away from the damp spot of sand she wrung her shirt, and skirt out on, she sits and peers out toward the horizon. Watching the spot where the faded blood red sun meets the water. Stark beauty. Her sleek muscled arms lift to hug the curve of her knees as she pulls them in toward her chest. An almost innocent stance, as a breeze begins to dry her soaked ebon hair.
"Hillbillies."
She murmurs faintly to her wolfen packmate, as she glances toward the houseboat dwelling quartet with an inward shudder of displeasure.
"Fianna hillbillies."
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