Logs:Border Wars: The Meeting
|Border Wars: The Meeting|
"Oh here we go..."
|Dramatis Personae|| |
The Pure come to Tur to discuss a problem in the Greater County Area. Part of the Border Wars plot.
Ishmael had called a meeting tonight at the Crosscut. It's been closed down for the evening for one reason or the other to the Herd. But for everyone else, it's open. People can come in and gather in the back room. Apparently it's going to be a meeting. There's drinks and some food out, the usual bar type foods. So chips, tater tots and all that good deep fried, bad for your arteries type of stuff.
Jori, appearently a huge fan of meetings, is in the backroom. Leaning in a chair with a good vantage point of the door and the people settling in at the table. The middles aged socialite's legs are crossed carefully, she's dress impeccably in white with red touches and heels more expensive than some people's wardrobes. Already the middle aged smoker's perfectly manicured nails are tapping against her cup of tea in a small niccy-fit.
Bryce heard from one of these ijits that there was some sort of meeting at the pub and being no strangers to pubs, chances are he would wind up at one of them by 8. Seeing as there's no point bringing sand to the bead, he's stuck only carrying a pack of cicgarettes and he decides to light on up as he enters the room. He's dressed casually, just a tight t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He nods in approval upon seeing the spread of the place.
Nadya arrives a little earlier than the meeting was called for, taking the time to find a scene and claim it as her own. She's already loaded up a plate with food nad gotten herself a drink, but everything is set to the side, untouched for the time being. Instead, she waits to see who else might be showing up, dark eyes tracking over anyone that she doesn't already know.
Ginger is like a stark contrast to Jori in her 'probably came from a thrift store' shredded jeans, and a T shirt that used to be for some band but has been washed so many times that most of the logo has faded to the same grey as the once white fabric has darkened to. Her hair's wound up in a braid that's laced around her head in a crown and she picks at the food on the table cause... well free food.
Elon enters the backroom neatly dressed. fine, black pas and a crimson buttoned shirt with a dark tie. The jacket, which matches the pants, has been slid off, folded over one arm. "Family." he says as he steps in, scanning the present and the arriving. "Good to see you all." He smiles, stepping to the side, approaching the spread to give it a proper inspection.
Ever prompt, Desmond answered the call right as he was instructed. So prompt that he is already seated next to Marjorie. He has on his usual fare, a pair of dark carpenter jeans and a black tee-shirt with some faded logo on it. He's tracing the lines of one of his tattoos, across his right forearm, to idly pass the time as others pick at the food on the table in front of him.
A meeting? Well, it might not be real time and in a forum, but something about it seems to have engaged Jacques' interest. The young man has a spring weight jacket over his shoulders and hands shoved firmly into the pockets of his jeans. He's wrangled himself a drink, half-drained already, as he waits to see what the whole to do is about. Of course, the other hand is holding his smart phone, and he seems to be poking away at something or other.
Morana's settled herself into a comfortable slump not too far from Ginger, a plate of salty, greasy, glorious bar food held near to her body as she picks at the assortment with appreciation. She's wearing pink tonight. Bright, unignorable pink in the form of a sweatshirt with a large, elaborate black hamsa on the front. Pairs well with her faded jeans and worn boots and the assortment of jewelery, mostly rings, which round out the pseudo-boho look. Blue eyes watch the growing gathering with a lazy patience, lips curled into an easy smile which doesn't shift much one way or the other as familiar faces move past.
Where there's one D'Amour, sometimes there's two. She didn't arrive with her brother, but in comes Seraphine, wearing her own pair of jeans and a t-shirt that has 'Talking Board Historical Society' scrawled across the chest. Her hair is a riot of curls, and she looks tired, but there's a smile on her lips. Both could have something to do with the man who follows behind her. Hush is her shadow, tall and stretched out. Every now and then, she looks behind her shoulder to make sure he's still there, as she heads for a chair. Up-nodding to those familiar, and warmer smiles for those well aquainted with.
the new guy, Noah is probably more curious than anything. Or maybe he just wants to mingle. He doesn't appear that way though. Entering the back room with almost no expression save for cold, piercing eyes that seem to stare through people as much as that them. His nose sniffs the air and he makes a face. Covering it with an arm, the big man moves to the back of the room. His clothes dark, all black really, and unremarkable, he could be homeless. Instead of finding a seat though, he crouches at the back, seeming to look all too comfortable like that.
Melissa made her way in with Noah in her usual uniform of jeans, boots and a tshirt that didn't start it's life as hers under the leather jacket that shares the same distinction. Her hair is damp and she smells like chlorine as if she's been swimming. Her eyes swept the room quickly to take stock of who was there and Elon got a smile as she took up a place next to the crouching Noah.
When Noah crouches by the back wall, Nadya turns in her seat, offering the plate out toward him. It's laden with bar food, sort of heaped up in a pile. "Want some?" She offers up a smile, not too worried about the cold look that he seems to give just about everyone. Dark eyes shift to Melissa, staying there a moment before returning to Noah.
Ms. Cavanaugh's chin remains high and her expression thoughtful as more and more people trickle in she leans towards Desmond and murmurs into his ear a moment before pulling back with a little smile. She remains comfortably regal like some foreign dignitary. She lifts her tea to her lips to sip at it lightly her expression utterly immutable as it so often is. She does nod though to each person who enters with a half smile for those she does know who enter the room. Velveteen brown eyes hood for a moment and her brows knit as even more people arrive, watching the interaction with a quietly clinical appraisal.
Telly wanders in a little bit after Mo' after doing that all important thing called 'parking'. He smells of 'I'll shower tomorrow' and lingering weed, and is dressed in faded jeans and a military surplus jacket. He wears an old baseball cap down low over his eyes and makes his way towards where his lazy Alpha sits, setting in beside her with a grunt, stealing a peanut from her horde of snacks, idly shuffling a pack of cards in his other hand.
Chair. Chair. Person. Chair. Chair. Person. Person. Glass. Chair. Person.
Hush moves quietly behind Seraphine, however his sunken, blackened eyes slink over every part of the room from behind; a game of Duck-Duck-Goose going on in his head, while doing nothing to hide how many fucking Monster cans are shoved into his pockets. Six. Seven. Nine. One of course, a BFC, rests in his hand and is slurrrrrrrrrrped loudly, when it is slurped, which is often enough to make a sort of rhythm for the Irraka to walk to. Chair. Slurp. Person. Person. Chair. Slurrrp. Eventually, a chair is chosen and pulled out, so the woman he follows might sit. Like a quiet, twitchy, butler.
"Thanks." Mel snagged a fry from the plate offered to Noah, giving Nadya a wink and leaning into the large Rahu as her attention slipped back to him, eating the fry. "I'm fucking starving after earlier. We should have stopped for food."
"Mel," Elon greets the woman as she heads over to linger near Noah. He's interested in something to drink, fixing himself a bit of liquor to hang on to before he wanders back into the mix, picking a middling spot to linger, becoming more observant as he settles on his feet.
Desmond straightens himself in his seat after leaning in to hear whisper from Marjorie, an expression halfway between a smirk and a grin growing on his thin lips. He doesn't answer her with any verbal utterance, but the small movement of a nod given is still an agreement.
As Telly settles down beside her, Mo nudges her knee against his in a lazy sort of rowdiness. It might be a half-hearted protest of that peanut theft. Maybe. Her smile grows as the last of her pack--the one with her the longest--rounds the headcount out: all of the Dropouts are present and accounted for. Hard not to take pride in that fact, even if the alpha offers no specific greetings to most, silently pleased, content to stuff her face, watch and wait.
Noah shakes his head almost immediately to Nadya, his nostrils flaring at the food. He makes a face of disgust, brief, but there, before it slides away. "Thank you." The pleasantries are there, at least, from the deep voice the emits from him. He gives a bowed head then to Nadya, and another to Elon as he sees him. His eyes sweep the room then, going over everyone and everything there.
Seraphine, in the process of leading Hush, alters to move by those of her pack. Touching each one, in turn, on the shoulder briefly with her fingertips in greeting. Even the needs-a-bath Telly. She sits slightly apart from them, giving the Irraka she comes with room to pick the place he finds most optimal seating for her. She settles in that chair, with a slight lean that gives her contact with the Monster-slurping Hush, while she holds her own three fingers of whiskey.
Nadya turns her gaze back to Melissa, one brow lifting silently as she regards the other woman. The look lasts several moments before she returns her attention to Noah, the smile in place again. "Thought I'd offer," the words are spoken as she turns back to the table, the plate set down and shoved out of the way.
Ishmael greets everyone as they come in and the man looks like he's had a long day. When everyone is nearly settled there's a bit of a breath taken and then he looks about, "So, this is going to be a meeting that might get a little tense, but if you'll stay cool with me and our guests. This should be a good informational session for us." he tells them. With that, Ishmael goes to out back into the front room to get their 'guests'.
Ginger leans back in her seat, her shoulder close to Mo's and she pops a bit of fried cheese in her mouth while she waits to see wtf is happening rather unconcerned seeming.
Jacques watches quietly as people arrive and settle, tipping his chin to those few people he already knows. His sister's arrival rates a smile, at least. Though it's then paired with a mildly inquisitorial eyebrow when Husk walks (possibly shambles?) in behind her. When he notices how many cans of Monster seem to have been slain at the Irraka's hand, he tilts his head in acknowledgement of such a feat of abuse towards one's kidneys and liver.
Melissa leaned her head into Noah's and said something quiet, head resting against his for a moment in a wolf-like gesture.
Jori sips her tea listening to Ishmael, as ever her resting bitch face reveals nothing as to her thought on his announcement. She remains straight backed and regal her attention skipping over people, keeping track of the Forsaken and Blooded in the room as much as on the door. The old local Blooded is no stranger to unpleasent meetings.
"Ten bucks says he returns with Pure," The words are pretty much muttered under her breath as Nadya withdraws her phone from her jacket pocket, obviously not really meant for anyone particular that's sitting at the table. Those closest will likely hear the mutter, though.
Elon looks intrigued with Ishmael's intro. His mind already working over several possibilities for what might be coming. He smiles slightly, as if the prospect of some upset might not be entirely unwelcome for the man. "This should be interesting," he murmurs, lifting his glass for a light sip. Waiting patiently.
"Thank you." The pleasantry comes again, as if necessary, towards Nadya. Another bowed head as Noah turns back to the woman. Still no emotion on his face. His attention is almost instantly taken by Ishmael, eyes to the man and then following him. A brow goes up, and he glances sideways at Mel, briefly curious, before his gaze goes around the room again, as if answers might be there. He does seem to pause to let Melissa whisper what she will. Then they go to Nadya, and his lips thin slightly at what she says.
Ginger glances over to Nadya, "That would be a wonderful start to ending the whole 'cousins murdering eachother needlessly' shit wouldn't it?" She queries, though the question is both rhetoric and wistful.
Ledge keeps his internal tally of those present and arriving, mostly unfamiliar faces, until one of the few recognized moves to settle with her pack. When Seraphine moves to deposit herself with the rest of the Dropouts, Simon's brows descend like thunderclouds- not in anger, but in focused memory retrieval. Familiar face, quasi-familiar setting, last seen, name-
His eyebrows bounce upwards. He has a name! Well. Has one for the lazily smug provider of snacks to the Dropouts. He takes a moment to relocate, weaving along the edge of the room to get to the pack's location, pausing before he can introduce himself or, in fact, say anything, to listen to Ishmael speak of the night's plans. Once he's finished. He crouches, to better greet those he recognizes who are seated. "Evening, Seraphina. And... please, forgive me if I am mistaken, but would your name be Morana, mademoiselle?" His voice has an accent, rustic- likely French-Canadian.
Telly bumps his knee back towards Morana, a counter strike in response to her lazy assault. He reaches over and puts one arm behind her chair, with all the finesse of a teenager in a movie theater, and with none of the same intent. His intent, is to reach over and Flick Gingers ear, like the mature adult he is.
"If he does, we still mind the meeting. It was called for a reason," Desmond answers Nadya without a stern tone creeping into his voice. A statement of fact, little more. "His spot, his rules." All that said though, the Iminir still slides his seat back a bit from the table, to give himself more room should their 'guests' not respect the Tur in the same manner he would.
Ginger's hand lifts and she slaps back at Telly's hand with a light grow, more sibling annoyance than intent towards violence.
Morana casts a wary look askance at Ginger as Ishmael slips out of the room... then looks down at the redhead's plate to see if there's anything worth pilfering. Her lips curl into a little smirk at the exchange between her and Nadya, but she contributes nothing. Greatly because she's distracted by Ledge's approach. "Mo more often," she confirms with a shallow dip of her head and a slight narrowing of her eyes. "Toronto, right?" No, that doesn't ring quite true, her brow scrunching. "North. Not too far." But she's having difficulty finding a name to go with the face, potentially in part because her gaze keeps flicking toward the door, even as she bows forward slightly to duck out of the way of any potential war brewing between her packmates flanking her.
Nadya nods to Ginger, then to Desmond. "It's Tur. They respect that as well, don't they? I mean, if that's who it is, they're likely aware of the rules already so will obvious respect them." She pauses, looking thoughtful, "Unless it's a whole slew of them and this is just a ruse to off all of us, since we're in the same room. You never know."
"Which would be fucking stupid. Closed area, no idea how many of us are here." Mel shrugged at Nadya's consideration. "Seems too short sighted for wolves."
"Speculation is pointless, friends," Elon notes, looking around the room a moment. "We are here and they will be soon as well. We will address what comes, when it comes. Better to not send ourselves mentally running down chaotic tracks. There will be chaos enough in the future for everyone."
Well shit. Ishmael /does/ in fact return with some Pure. And Ginger knows two of them! Or well, she knows their sent and she's seen them bleed. One of them is Deadeye, famously known for the milky white left eye that is indeed, dead in it's socket. Stonehurler is there, an older and stockier man. The last one that enters is older, but still retains much of his youthfulness, it's just the eyes that tell the age. He's also dressed WAY nicer than the other two.
"These men are hear to speak with us about a threat that is growing in the Greater County Area. Where none of our kind have laid claim to territory. If anyone wants to leave now, they can. But Tur is a neutral place and these men wish only to speak with us this night." Ishmael tells the gathered.
"Dangerous game, inviting themselves into the Hunter's den. Chances of survival low." Noah actually speaks, and he sounds rather confident in that, more towards Nadya. His crouch seeming a lot more for purpose as comfort, he does look very much like a wolf ready to pounce. His eyes do go back to the place Ishmael exited though. His face remaining expressionless, though there's really never anything casual about him. He falls silent as soon as Ishmael appears, curious, but nothing more.
Ginger sits up a bit straighter at Ishmael's return and she looks over the two curiously, before she offers a nod. Cousins are cousins even if they're on the wrong side of the political/spiritual divide.
Marjorie listens to the conversation. Brown eyes glitter as they dip over each new word and then back to the door. And Ish who enters and then the older Pure, her lids hood and the middle aged Iminir Blooded's expression goes from neutral-ish to deadpan. She's still no idea which of the Pure murdered her husband twenty years ago, in favor of emotion Jori sips her tea.
Melissa actually relaxed a bit when the guests make their way in and are announced, standing straight again as she scratched at her wrist and watched them closely. Each is studied, her head canting a bit to the left as they're taken in. Finally she nodded, offering a half smile and raising a hand in what might be a wave. "How's it going?"
There's a slight tensing of Seraphine at mention of the Pure, and it shows the most in the line that her lips purse into. But she lets out a breath, and glances to her brother, as if to beckon Jacques closer. Little Sister demands. It's when Ledge crouches in front of her that she gives a quick smile, and a pleasant, "Hello, Simon." She listens to the voices around her, thoughtful. And when Ishmael does return with the trio, she doesn't quite lean into Hush so much. Giving the Irraka room, but not giving up contact.
A nod answers Mo's guess, once corrected to north of Toronto, and Ledge offers quietly, "Ledge. I can refresh with a full intro later. I hear footsteps." And, sure enough, Ishmael returns, with... people that Simon doesn't know at all. As the matter is brought up, as those present are invited to leave if they feel it necessary, context is provided and a glance is tilted towards Desmond for a moment before he settles back against the wall, attention on the speakers and the Dropouts in the path of that attention. One of his small smiles tips Seraphine's way once he's greeted, and she completes his name for those listening.
The head tilts the other way then, looking over the biggest Pure, reaching into his coat to slowly draaaaaaag out a can of Monster -- and toss it at the big ol' whopper. In doing so, reveals the pommel of The Most Beautiful, there, horizontal at his back. "You look tired."
Hush's attention fails to draw on the room now, instead, honed there on The Biggest. Because, Izhi.
Morana relaxes back into her seat when the door opens again, except that she's not /quite/ so relaxed as she had been a moment earlier, a delicate tension weaving itself through her lanky frame. Her chin dips in acknowledgement of Ledge's deferral, agreement to that 'later.' For now, the full weight of her focus is on the three strangers Ishmael's lead in. Her demeanor remains amicable, though her smile's faded toward seriousness. "We're willing to listen." She certainly doesn't speak for everyone, but she speaks with some, and she does so with a calm, confident authority.
The greater county area, where Desmond's been spending his nights. The older Iminir brings one leg up to rest crossed over the other, leaning forward in the chair in a way that expresses his interest before his words do. "I think at this point we are all staying and willing to listen, right? What goes on in the shadow of Alderstone Mountain, then?" The Iminir's forearms rest on the table's edge, but the whitening of his knuckles as his fingers interlock speak of his tense eagerness.
Elon is silent when the guests are brought back into the room. His head canted slightly as he takes some time to really study them. His eyes rolling over the there men intently. As if to commit each to memory. And for now, he allows others to speak, if they will. Or for the guests to get to the point. He's listening, after all.
Nadya watches as the door opens again and the three new arrivals step into the back room. She eyes them carefully for a moment, then gives a soft sigh. "I should've bet people money," Again, the commentary is to herself. She reaches for her drink, pulling the cup in toward herself as she falls silent, waiting to hear what's to be said.
Noah springs a little in his crouch, but it's barely a movement, from flat footed to the balls of his feet maybe. He glances at Mel, grabbing her wrist for some reason. He meets her gaze momentarily, shaking his head up at her and then letting it go. Eyes move from her back to Ishmael and more importantly the Pure. However, he still remains without emotion. He is completely silent, but those eyes, they can be unnerving, the looks he gives. It's just his way, perhaps.
Bryce looks on thoughtfully as he smokes. Like he's trying to play the role of some kind of profound intellectual. He's leaning back in his seat but when the others walk in the room and he stands up. "Ay me name is Bryce, son of Sean Collins "He Who Reaps", son of the Beast of Kinsale Bay." He clears his throat. "Now I'm the beta of possibly the fastest growing pack in the area. And me packmates have close to what amounts of a blood oath against these pure. They treat all who aren't there's as livestock. Would a cow trust the farmer, when he could be hiding a prod behind his back? Not likely. So I'm going to need to express a degree of skepticism. There are many of us with unfinished business with them. Especially, but not limited to the Tzuumfin
" He speaks in a loud booming voice with a thick Irish accent. "Ay now I've said my piece. Gimme a bottle of whiskey." He slams a couple bills on the table and grabs a whiskey bottle then starts taking a long swig from it. "Now say yer peace then feck off." He mutters under his breath while he sits back down in his chair and rocks back.
Jacques tenses at the new arrivals, but doesn't appear ready to leap forth and likely get butchered. Instead, he merely takes his phone and slides it quietly away into his pockets. His expression is not exactly a pleased one, it must be said.
Levi is there. Like he was there the whole time. Gypsy Magic - best not to question such things. The lean Hunter Blooded is standing there, brazen as you please near the Dropouts. Because all are accounted for and present. Nadya gets blown a kiss, Jori is given a flash of a smile. The rest are quickly assessed before he sinks into the pack proper. He stands behind the redheaded Ginger, a hand finding Mo's shoulder for a brief touch before eyes focus on the Pure, on Ishmael. This might be one of those few moments he wished that the toys he carried weren't 'awake' all the time.
Melissa looked back to Noah when she was grabbed, giving him a sheepish smile. "Sorry." Her attention turned to Bryce then, bottom lip licked before she spoke. "You know this by experience? Or are you going on what you've been told? That hasn't been my experience with them at all, speaking as one of the alleged livestock." Her gaze flickered up and down Bryce, then she looked to the guests again.
When no one immediately starts to throw anything or turn into a nine foot taller murder machine (tm), there's a bit of relaxing in the shoulders of the better dressed of the three Pure. There's a dip of his head in greeting to the gathered, "Our apologies for the surprise, but we've been keep track of an issue that both of our groups need to be aware of, and hopefully we can take care of." he states.
Then Bryce speaks and the man stands at parade rest for the moment, letting him speak before he gives a bit of a nod, "Well, we'll feck off if Ishmael tells us to my good man. But, I'm trying to explain a growing problem. I count three of us and a lot more of you. Now really, there's not much of a fight if you choose to just act instead of listen for a few minutes." he points out to Bryce.
"I can respect a blood oath, Bryce, but if you disrespect the sanctity of a Tur, then you will lose a great deal of respect from The People regardless of where you go. I've given you the opportunity to depart, and don't bedgrudge you taking advantage of it." Ishmael states calmly, looking only at Bryce in the sea of Father's get. "You don't have to stay and listen, but if you choose to, then everyone's voice in this room holds equal weight."
Marjorie sips her tea again a she keeps an eye on the room, who speaks and who doesn't. She takes stock of everything, down to the twitch of muscles. Where Desmond leans foreward she remains a pillar of resolve, unmoved by the sheer amount of wolf and blooded in this place. The eye of the storm, sipping tea. "Then perhaps, due to tensions, we ought to just get to the shared issue at hand?"
Nadya nods to Marjorie's words, likely thinking the same thing. She absently taps her fingers against the side of her cup, but the sound is a mostly silent one. For the most part, her gaze remains on the three at the front of the room.
Stonehurler looks at the can of Monster that was tossed at him and then looks to Hush with a bit of a stoic expression. Tired? Pfft. "Thanks." the gravely voice states to the man. But it doesn't send him into a frenzy at all.
Ledge remains leaned up against the wall near the Dropouts, one hand buried in his pocket, the other hanging from a tucked thumb off the other pocket. He watches the Pure through his eyebrows, a steady, deep glower that expresses his dislike and his respect for the Tur all at once.
Ginger sits up straighter, her hand reaching back to rest on Levi's hip as her attention fixes firmly on the new comers, waiting.
Bryce shrugs. "Now I haven't been livestock but I know at least three people within me own pack who would attest to that. What do I have ta get the collar of these people?" Bryce scoffs. "This should clearly be treated on a case by case basis. But I have to stand with me pack and I don't see any of them going for it. So even if I would consider it, that makes putting aside this reservations outta the question. Now I don't plan to start fights here. I'm here just so me pack's voice wouldn't be silenced. Feck it. On with it." He takes another draw from the whiskey.
"Yes, let's get to the point," Elon speaks up. "And most especially, why we should be bothered, given your hold on this region. I'd be curious what trouble rises that you feel insecure enough to alert us to, expecting that we will put meat and blood into the mix of dealing with." His tone is even, with an honestly curious lilt to his statement. He glances back towards Bryce. "Plenty of time to talk grievances later."
Morana scarcely moves save to pop some food into her mouth, but her eyes shift slowly to watch each of the talkers in turn, not especially moved by any of the dialog until Jori urges things forward. That earns a hint of a grin which doesn't linger long.
Seraphine feels the movement of air, as Hush withdraws that can of Monster, and tosses it. She lets out a breath, as she sees what it is, and the reaction is not...an explosive one. Another glance to Jacques, and the vodoun stays silent. One step beyond resting bitch face is Active, and that's where her expression is right now. Though it's not precisely focused on the Pure.
Telly is quiet and watchful, he's even stopped trying to pester Ginger. Lips are tight, leaning partially against Morana, he just shuffles his deck of cards. It might even be ominous were he not so skinny.
Levi has gotten good at adopting the RBF of his employer. So he stands there, attentive and alert with vivid green eyes on the three wolves That Don't Belong. Ginger's hand at his hip is found with his own, fingers curling around her palm. We are unamused.
Marjorie is ever patient, like a chopping block, eyes drifting from the Forsaken to the Pure. She does not shift, she does not fidget and her expression remains forever unreadable. She glnces to Bryce, "There's no good that can come froma fight here, nor from making a descision before we've even heard the issue. There's also no saying we have to decide to help them tonight." Mom voice. Who doesn't LOVE mom voice?
Noah is quiet as always, his eyes only flicker from each face of the three Pure, that hard, cold stare on them. A study, perhaps. Nothing else about how he feels about the situation is given, though he glances at Melissa briefly before giving his attention back to the three Pure. He rests like a wolf, on his feet in that crouch, still tall enough to see most things. He is almost unmoving save for that. A sentry or a statue near the back of the room, every ready and alert.
"The two men with me are Deadeye and Stonehurler. A few of your group have met with them. I'm Blackheart." he offers introductions. Then there's a nod to Bryce, "Thank you for bringing your grievances to us." he tells him. Then there's a look to Elon, "This problem has killed two of your Werewolves. Then the murder of one was blamed on this pack." he nods to the two Predator Kings. "There's a large number of Bale Hounds in the Greater County Area. We don't know why they are gathering, but they are slaughtering anyone that steps into their territory. We've lost more than a few of our own. We aren't asking you to help get rid of them. We are making you aware that if any of yours turn up missing or dead and they are out there, then that's what got them." he explains.
"As of when?" Mel's voice was without nervousness or fear of the Anshega. "When did you lose your first and when were you able to tie it to the Bale Hounds?"
"Before the choir of naysayers springs, I will state the obvious. There is a chance that this is a smokescreen from your side to ours." Desmond starts, unlocking his fingers from one another. His right hand moves to scratch idly upon his left forearm, at the ink of a wolf with a chain across its mouth. An exhaled breath follows, as he turns his gaze from the three Pure at the entrance to the backroom to the others in the room. "So I assume there is proof rather than mere voiced aspersions on a nameless gathering?"
Ginger squeezes Levi's fingers and then pulls her hands free, "Blackheart, I am Sandstorm, and I am concerned for the safety and wellbeing of not just us but out bloods, and your own, they are often by standards in our quarrels with eachother and our foes. Are your families secure where ever you keep them?" The question is genuine and honest. "As for the Bale Hounds, to you have any ideas of their numbers?"
Jacques grunts when he meets Seraphine's glance, shaking his head slightly. This is no good, his expression seems to say. "So we should just assume the Bale Hounds-" he starts, until Desmond speaks up. Then he simply nods, falling quiet. Apparently it's proof that he wants as well.
There goes another can of Monster tossed to Blackheart. Underhand, just in case. Hush continues to watch, and slurp, and stare, and slurp, and at the mention of Bale Hounds just sort of stares, before another can is pulled free and tossed to Deadeye. FUCK IT. The BFC of Monster is raised up, before the eyes turn back down to Seraphine. "They're like...Manga Monsters, with the tentacles, and the bear-trap-faces." A pause, a look to the Pure, and then to Seraphine. "Not them. Bale Hounds. These are more..." A handwibble is given, "...Krull, Warrior-King."
Hush then just straightens back up, and continues to slurp on his can. Dazed, in his chemical-cocktail.
God damn full moon. Everything was going smoothly, everything. Noah was calm and quiet in the back, giving out cold stares and not bothering anyone. But something Blackheart says changes his stance in the back. Some might not notice, but many near him will. Noah's fists suddenly clench and unclench and his teeth also come together in what can only be called a snarl. What's that small little sound coming from the man? That's a low growl, that's growing louder and louder by the minute. He doesn't move, but every muscle in the big mans' body seems to flex at once.
Melissa reached over to rub Noah's back gently, leaning close to whisper again and then pulling away once more. "Going to waste a lot of time with more maybe it's a trap bullshit, there are better questions to ask and more important information to get."
"I'm pretty sure if we went to them, saying the same thing, quite of few of their numbers would be asking if it was a trap," Nadya points out. "It's only natural to question such a thing, right?"
Levi remains neutral, but the questions remain (of course, unless someone else asked this already), "A Forsaken fell in February. And another a few weeks ago. Bale Hounds? Or you?" Blunt, to the point. He watches them for answer, willing to believe them.
Morana finishes up her munching, though her plate's not yet entirely empty, a subtle suggestion that her focus has fully shifted from food to the discussion at hand, the plate slid onto the table... and her hands wiped on her jeans. She offers a pair of shallow nods, first to Desmond, then to Ginger, though there's a flicker of attention for Jacques as well before her focus settles on Hush. And stays there for a good long moment. There's eventually a little smile which lingers when she returns her attention to Blackheart, expecting him to address the concerns, the requests for evidence.
Jori sips her tea as the Pure brreak down why they are here. She lifts her tea, empties it, and sets the cup aside. She looks around, keeping track of questions like a hawk and then looking back towards the Pure once more. She will be checking to see if each question is addressed. She, however says not a word about their story yet.
Elon is a touched surprised by this. His expression faltering slightly. He's heard tales. Real or not? Who can say? He glances towards Desmond, the elder's stating the obvious garnering a nod from Elon. Possible. Other voices chime in and he focuses on their guests again. "Bottom line. The question is, do you boys have the goods?" Keeping his tone simple and neutral.
"Bale Hounds are a cancer to both the Urdaga and the Anshega." Ishmael offers, looking at the sea of faces, whether stone, poker, angry or skeptical. "They seek to insinuate themselves into both societies, corrupting a little bit at a time until they lead an individual or pack into the fold. While they do not commonly gather in such numbers, when they do, it is usually around a Wound they intend to let fester and grow."
"We can bring proof. We also have a body to turn over to you. It's more intact than the last one that was found. He should have a proper burial and things." Blackheart states. "I expected that we would need to get past the skepticism and things, I didn't think we were going to waltz in and find open hearts and minds. It's not easy to trust those you've been raised to hate and to fight." he nods. There's no contempt or venom in his voice. "My pack and I are going to be going scouting to check on numbers. If you would like to send a few of your scouts as well we will take them along." he states.
Melissa rolled her neck to crack it and sighed softly. "Jesus fuck. So, here's the deal. They're going to stay here as long as it seems smart or safe. So we have a finite amount of time to get all of the information we need and it's being wasted on dumbassed discussion. Move. On. Be smart about the time we have." And then her attention turned back to their guests. "When did it start?"
Ginger nods slightly to herself, turning a glance back at Levi and then her attention returns to Blackheart. "I will scout with you." She states simply. "But you will answer our questions."
Seraphine's gaze flicks, meeting that of her brother. There's some meaning exchanged in that gaze between siblings, and when Jacques starts to say much the same as Desmond, she dips her head. And then pauses. Dark eyes flick to the Pure, and then...Hush is gently tossing two more cans of Monster towards them. At least it's not done like a dart. He speaks to her, and the vodoun's head tilts to listen to his words, nodding. "I will take your word on the visual, love. It doesn't seem like anything I want to see in person." And then, she pauses. Tilts her head. And does a mental roster of the wolves she has not seen recently, frowning.
"I have been camping on the high peak, at Alderstone. I will go on this scouting with yours, as well." Desmond answers Blackheart with a steady and even tone, turning to nod through his words as he backs up Ginger's offer. His feet shift until both are resting upon the floor again, though he doesn't yet rise from his seat. "After we have had our losses returned to us."
"I'm in too." Mel glanced to Ginger and nodded in agreement. "I'm ready."
It's difficult to get it out, he's still growling, even as he listens to whatever Melissa says to him. The deep voice at the back says something, finally, "I will go." There's no hesitation, no fear that the Pure might be setting a trap, no conditions. Noah stands then, to his full heights, his fists still clenching and unclenching. His breathing deep, as his chest rises and falls. No more cold stares, there is a heat in that gaze. He paces slightly, suddenly looking unconformable here.
Ledge raises his voice now, glancing at Ginger while she volunteers, then to each of the others. "I will lend myself to such efforts." He's remained quiet up to this point, taking in everything he can.
A muffled shifting of metal against metal might be caught beneath the din by those closest to Morana when Ginger volunteers herself so swiftly, heavily ringed fingers curling into a fist. She leans aside to murmur something softly to her beta before returning her attention to the growing number of volunteers. Whatever smile she'd been wearing isn't there anymore.
Bryce breathes in sharply. "Well I'm not sure about sendin' our scout. Naw, they aren't ready....too much risk but hey if you want to voulnteer, while I'd reccomend against it, especially for the younger ones, your choice." Bryce wrinkles his nose. "Now I didn't come here to be patronized by a buncha yanks but I believe I understand the gist of the situation. So...I'll wait for this evidence at the very least before getting up."
Elon turns his head, looking back towards Mel and Noah with an arched brow. Though most of his attention is on Mel. The man thoughtful for a few moments before he gives a silent nod towards them. His eyes linger briefly before he looks back towards The Pure. "Whatever data you have on movements and locations of encounters, I'll have a copy of them. Unless you know where they're lairing yet, we will have to pinpoint it." Willing to,f or the moment, assume that this is legit.
Marjorie emains where she is and silent as death.
Ginger's head tilts in towards Mo when the Alpha whispers to her, though her attention never leaves their 'guests'.
To Ginger, "They are secure and safe, yes. My wife has had a run in with them, but managed to not get harmed." Blackheart states. If the Pure were supposedly evil bastards what could their blooded be like?! "Some of us would like to have peace. I'd like to work towards that. One of our sides had to initiate." he admits. Then there's a nod to those that have spoken up, "I will give everyone a time to meet. And I'll answer questions. Any that you have." he tells the group. "For now, I'd like to give you the body and the photographs and things that we've taken of markings around the place where we've found the bodies." he offers.
Melissa left her spot suddenly, winding her way closer to the front of the room and the Anshega. Her eyes flickered between Blackheart and Ishmael, voice quiet. "If I can have a minute when we're done here?"
Ginger nods slightly to Blackheart. "Some of us would like peace as well Brother. We can speak more while we hunt our shared enemy. Perhaps the bonds we share can over come the differances between us with time." And a shared enemy. "Thank you for coming tonight."
Morana nods to whatever Ginger offers back in quiet response, blue-eyed attention briefly flicking toward Melissa. As she withdraws, she leans the other way, her weight shifting toward Telly. "Agreed," she chimes in after the storm lord beside her welcomes the talk of peace, a nod tipped toward Blackheart and his companions.
Nadya has been silently listening, her gaze flittering from person to person as they speak.
Blackheart looks to Melissa, "I didn't get to answer your question earlier. The attacks started a little after the start of March. We'd noticed some unknown Werewolves in the area, but didn't think of anything like this." he tells her. "And sure, we can talk after we get things in order with the others." he states to the Blooded. Then there's a look to Ginger and he gives a small bow, "Thank you, Sandstorm. We'll be sure to talk on this." he states as he straightens.
Noah pauses in his pacing when he sees Melissa move forward, eyes following her. Hands still clench, but he's clearly trying to calm himself down. They flow past her then back to Blackheart, listening to what he says. Eyes then sweep the room fully before landing once more on Melissa. He still looks very edgy.
With a nod, Desmond settles back against his chair. All the tension is satisfied for the moment as well, as Blackheart gives mention of seeing to the return of those lost. As they thank Ginger, the Iminir Rahu turns his attention away from them, to the others in the room. "Mo, are you staying for a moment? We should talk if you have the free time. In light of this and other things."
Elon is thoughtful, studying the Pure quietly. He seems somewhat skeptical, though of just what remains unspoken. However, he does decide to follow Mel. Only so he can lean in close to her and murmur, "See you back at the shop." Giving her a nod. His eyes lift and he considers the trio again, a bit closer. "One more question. How pervasive is this desire for peace?"
Marjorie nod to the Blackheart as she looks at the others. "Whenever you're ready to dliver the evidence." She looks sidelong at Desmond, then to Mo and her pack. "Are you delivering it here or should I go get in my pickup?" She inqures.
Nadya pulls out her phone, thumbs tapping away at it for a moment before she lowers it down to rest against her thigh. Her gaze shifts back toward Noah, both brows lifting as she watches him pace. "You okay?"
Morana tracks Desmond's approach with only a few slight deviations as her attention strays to others nearby, catching reactions and fragments of conversation as the official portion of this unusual meeting starts drawing to its close. When she's addressed, her focus settles on the rahu, a small smile mustered as she nods. "I'll be available. Here or elsewhere. There are definitely discussions to be had." Marjorie's words steal her attention briefly, and the crowd-scanning picks back up.
"No." Noah gives Nadya an easy answer to her questioned, if a slightly heated one. It's the first real emotion he's shown tonight, surely. He does look at the woman briefly, but he just gives her a bow of his head, his eyes once more going around the entire room, to each face, and each corner. Finally they settle once more on the PUre at the front, falling as silent as always. He's still not looking comfortable at all, but for whatever reason he's staying put.
"Thank you. I'll grab you when we're done." Nodding once, Melissa made her way back to Noah and rubbed his lower back again, once more whispering.
Levi reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, tapping into it a few times before shoving it back into his pocket. That intense gaze flicks over to find Jori as she mentions getting the truck, a brow perking upwards for a moment. Motion and movement distract the Hunter and he turns to find Desmond and Mo conversing. His gaze continues back to find Seraphine and Hush, focusing on the Blooded of the pair for a moment. A hand slips into his pocket to withdraw a cigarette which is lit via brass zippo. Tucking the lighter away he shifts his attention back to the Pure, stoic still as they answer questions. A brief glance is given to Mel as she manuevers around the room, it lingers for a moment before he lets his hand brush Mo's shoulder as he moves towards Marjorie.
"There are a few of the packs that are in my area that would like to put the blood and fighting on a shelf. We aren't all monsters." Blackheart states to the question of peace. "I'm going to try my best to let people know it doesn't always have to be like this." he adds. Then there's a look to Marjorie, "I parked my truck near the bar and we have the body wrapped to where it won't be so suspicious. We also have packets that can be studied. I'm sure that other werewolves or the Blooded here can look over them and help with things." he offers as he turns and starts to head for the door.
Marjorie nods and stands, "We'll move it to mine." She says as she rolls her shoulder and starts to stride that direction as well. Her chin straight, the high society woman moving regally along seemingly unsurprised that Levi will be following. She also seems expectant others will as well. She does murmur to Levi, "We'll get it moved as soon as everything's tranfered over. no sense in letting it linger to long here." A quick glance over her shoulder and she's off to do business as it were.
Elon glances towards Melissa and Noah, nodding towards them slightly before he looks after the trio. His expression sliding into something a bit more shrewd. After a few moments he starts to follow them. To see what here is to see. And that information. Some bedtime reading.
Nadya simply nods to Noah, attention turning away as she studies her phone again. A few more seconds of tapping, then she tucks it away into her coat pocket.
Seraphine, looked to, looks back. Dark brown and gold eyes move to Levi, and she gives him a dip of her head. Still, she's going through that mental list, and there's a mild edge of concern to her face.
Noah listens to what Melissa says to him, bowing his head, his eyes closing momentarily. He gives that same bowed head to Elon then. That done, he is on the move, following those going towards the body, presumably, or maybe just for the door. He definitely looks relieved for that.
Morana nods her acknowledgement to Levi as he offers that silent gesture before stepping away, her attention trailing after him for a moment. When it becomes clear that Marjorie will be following after the Pure to handle the transfer of remains, the lazy elodoth draws slowly to her feet. Looking to Desmond, she tips her head, wordlessly suggesting the follow the pair just to make sure everything's on the up and up and nothing shady happens to their people.
The remarks and answers from Blackheart give Desmond pause to his inquiry to Morana. But after the Pure makes his statements, Desmond looks back to the Alpha of the Dropouts, speaking in his usual casual and unhushed voice. "Undoubtedly you and yours will be meeting. I'm sure the same goes for most packs in the city. But we need to address this as a city, as the People. We spoke last time of a fire, a gathering for stories and reminders. I intend on seeing to that, at the Mountain this weekend."
Melissa headed out with her pack, brow furrowed in thought and wrist scratched at lightly.
Bryce chugs back most of the rest of his whiskey. "Aye, you identify the body yet?" He checks his watch and then starts to slowly stand up. "I suppose we can take it wasn't yer doins. Naw if it was you we'd probably have ta try and use dental records or something..." He strokes his chin. "There is perhaps a degree of exageration in that--a degree."